#and this is a very good moment compared to last winter

[dreamyberry]

/14.10.24

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

~

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

~

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

~

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

~

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

~

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

~

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

[silkysoftie]

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬

shouto todoroki x female reader

summary: when his sweet girlfriend is nervous to meet his family, shouto decides to help take the edge off.

↳ warnings: 18+, nsfw, college au, established relationship, pet names, praise, tears, fingering, exhibitionism (aged up characters)

beta reader: @themellowminx

a/n: sorry this took so long! i meant for this to come out sooner, but i fell into a writing slump :( sho is a bit difficult to write so i hope i was able to do his character justice! enjoy <3

Little white puffs of snow floated slowly through the still evening air as Shouto quietly led you down the sidewalk to his family home, his palm warm in yours.

Winter had come at last, the days shortening, and the temperatures dropping. You’d met Shouto Todoroki in the spring. The fields of flowers he’d once stopped to pick from for you now hid away under a thick blanket of snow. After the first snowfall of the year, Shouto had quickly decided winter was your best season, captivated by how you seemed to glow amongst the vast whiteness. Though he’d never mention it, he quite liked the dusting of red that covered your cheeks and nose in the icy air. He couldn’t help the little grin that tugged his lips at the sight of you, bundled up in a pink, fluffy scarf, hair windswept and frosty. You just looked so cozy.

Seeing as the two of you had been dating for some time now, Shouto thought it appropriate for you to finally meet his family. Rei, his mother, was delighted by the idea and invited you to dinner without hesitation, anxious to meet the girl Shouto always mentioned in his letters. Thus, the very next Friday you were at the Todoroki’s doorstep, shaking like a leaf.

What if they didn’t like you? After all, you’d always felt Shouto was way out of your league. For goodness’ sake, the man was built like a Greek god, all sharp angels and smooth muscles. When you’d passed by him on the way out of the lecture hall, his distinctive dual-toned locks catching your eye, you’d had to do a double take, astonished to share a class with someone so unfairly handsome. And to think, he’d noticed you of all people. You’d never been particularly insecure, but next to the campus heartthrob, you just couldn’t compare.

“Hello! Welcome in,” Rei opened the front door, her words soft and gentle, but filled with excitement. Your trembling seemed to worsen at the mere sight of her.

Shouto lightly squeezed your hand in reassurance before ushering you in. After greeting her son, Rei turned to you.

“I’m so pleased to meet you, Y/N. Shouto has told me so much about you,” Rei smiled at you warmly, a slight lift at the corner of her lips. Suddenly, you were struck by how closely Shouto resembled her. They had the same, soft shape to their face, straight nose, and long, sweeping eyelashes. Not to mention the way in which they observed the world around them, quietly, but perceptively. She was almost as unreasonably beautiful as her son. Maybe God did have favorites after all…

“Hel-” your voice wobbled embarrassingly thanks to your nerves. Shouto’s shoulders raised almost imperceptibly, his lips pressing into a thin line in attempt to smother a laugh. Yep, ok, time to go home and dwell on this for the rest of your life.

Clearing your throat, you tried again, “Hello, it’s very nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me over.”

Rei’s smile widened, just enough that a flash of brilliant, white teeth peaked through. Beside you, Shouto swelled with pride, a little smile of his own making its way onto his face at his mother’s reaction to you.

“I also, um, brought you this,” Rei watched with interest as you fished around in your purse in search of something. After a moment you pulled out a small, ornate box, decorated with a delicate bow.

Shouto’s mother took it from you carefully, her movements graceful and slow. After opening the little box, a quiet gasp left her.

“It’s mochi from my hometown…” you wrung your hands together nervously, hopeful she’d like the gift since you’d picked it without knowing much about her tastes, “I know it’s not quite the holidays, but I thought you might like to taste it.”

“My goodness, this is very kind of you,” Rei murmured, her grey eyes examining the little desserts and their descriptions intently.

After a moment, she turned her thoughtful gaze back to you, “Thank you very much, Y/N.”

Shouto had a hard time schooling his features into their usual, serious expression when his mother was so obviously pleased. Rei was a rather reserved woman, a trait she’d passed on to him. And like him, she kept a tight hold on her emotions, her countenance always very carefully calculated. To anyone else, Rei might seem as cold as ice, but her son knew better.

She liked you, Shouto could tell.

Just as you were about to respond, a young woman burst into the hall, running over to where the three of you still stood in the genkan.

“I’m so sorry! I was brewing tea and didn’t hear you come in!” the words tumbled out of the woman in a rush, her glasses slipping down her nose in her haste.

“Y/N,” Shouto said in that temptingly deep voice of his, “this is my sister, Fuyumi.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Shouto mentions you and your cooking often,” you bowed slightly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. It was nice to finally put a face to the name. You wondered briefly if all the Todoroki children looked so incredibly alike. Shouto and Fuyumi shared, not only, their mother’s elegant bone structure, but also their coloring. Fuyumi’s white hair was dotted with the same shock of red that split Shouto’s evenly down the middle. Only their eyes set them apart, Shouto boasting both Rei’s deep, stormy grey and Enji’s electric blue.

Fuyumi beamed at your indirect compliment while Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed somewhat. You guessed he might be embarrassed that you would mention his comments about his sister’s cooking, seeing as he was a rather poor one himself.

“Please come in,” Rei urged you, “We set up the kotatsu today in anticipation of your arrival.”

Shouto helped you shrug out of your winter coat, his long fingers brushing lightly against your neck as he unfurled your scarf, sending a lick of fire down your spine. After dawning your house slippers, the two of you made your way through his family home, stopping every now and then to marvel at the beautiful, traditional, Japanese architecture.

Before long, the four of you were seated comfortably under a brightly colored kotatsu, sipping hot, green tea and chatting. As the tea slowly warmed you from the inside out, the heater worked to thaw your frozen limbs. More than once you had to stop yourself from letting out a sigh of relief, thankful to be out of the cold.

Unable to part from you for long, Shouto pressed himself firmly against your side, his hands fidgeting with his teacup as though he didn’t quite know what to do with them. The feeling of his thick, muscled thigh rubbing up against yours under the quilt did nothing to help calm your nerves. You made a point to focus on the conversation at hand, rather than the heat from his body seeping into yours.

“Natsuo will be joining us later, he has to work late this evening,” Fuyumi mentioned as she fiddled with the teapot, pouring another round for everyone, “and Touya is out doing who knows what.”

“Probably burning down an elementary school,” Shouto mumbled, more to himself than anyone. You hastily brought your teacup to your lips in attempt to hide your snicker. You’d heard all about Shouto’s oldest brother and his rebellious ways, leading you to believe that his comment was more plausible than not.

After regaining your composure you curiously asked, “And what about your dad?”

A somber silence settled over the table at the mention of Enji Todoroki. Your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. Clearly you’d touched on a sore subject. Whatever good first impression you’d managed to make was likely now squashed. Good going.

“Our father is a politician,” Fuyumi explained quietly, “He’s almost never home… always at one meeting or another.”

Sensing your distress, Shouto huffed loudly, drawing attention to himself.

“That’s fine, more soba for me.”

Was that.. a joke?

A surprised giggle escaped Fuyumi as Rei’s eyebrows shot up, the two effectively distracted from your earlier blunder. You glanced up at the man next to you, all the love and affection you’d ever felt for him bubbling up in your chest. His heterochromatic eyes found yours, the smallest of smiles on his face. God, he was just so good… so good to you.

Mood officially lightened, the conversation carried on as if nothing had happened.

“So, Shouto, how are you doing in school?” Rei questioned.

“I am doing well. Y/N and I study together for our shared classes. I find her presence very helpful,” Shouto responded easily.

Overwhelmed with adoration for your boyfriend, you were unable to focus, a goofy grin pulling at your lips as you stared at your teacup, replaying his kind gesture over and over in your mind.

“Y/N?”

It was only when Shouto’s elbow lightly nudged yours that you realized Rei had asked you a question. Your hands flew to your face, flushed in shame.

“S-sorry, what was that?”

It was as though all of your earlier nerves rushed right back into your body, fingers trembling against the smooth, ceramic cup.

“I only asked if you were enjoying school,” Rei smiled encouragingly, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Oh! Yes, very much. My classes are all very interesting, but I have to admit, I enjoy the ones with your son the most.”

A little smirk tugged at the corner of Shouto’s mouth, clearly pleased with your answer.

“I’m very glad to hear it,” Rei laughed a bit, “As much as I’d love to keep chatting, Fuyumi and I have to get dinner started.”

You floundered as she got up to leave, not wanting to seem impolite, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thanks for offering, but you’re our guest. We’ll take care of it. Like Shouto has told you, I’m an amazing cook!” Fuyumi puffed her chest out in pride, a brilliant smile on her face. Shouto merely grimaced, deflating a little in his seat.

The two left for the kitchen, leaving you and your boyfriend to your own devices.

“Ugh…”

You folded over, forehead smacking against the top of the kotatsu table. Shouto chuckled quietly, one of his large palms coming up to rub at your back.

“They probably hate me,” you whined, words muffled by the wood.

You heard a sigh escape your boyfriend followed by his smooth voice, “They do not hate you. In fact… I think they quite like you.”

The speed at which you were back up and staring at him was almost comical, Shouto’s mouth quirking up at the red mark on your forehead.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you considered his words. Could they really like you? You’d fumbled and stuttered your way through the entire conversation, for crying out loud! Not to mention the slip up regarding his father; you shuddered at the mere memory.

You knew that Shouto, of all people, would never lie to you and if the genuine look on his face was anything to go by, he didn’t plan on breaking that streak of honesty anytime soon, but…

“Ah.. I don’t know! I’m not very good with meeting new people. What if I mess everything up?!” your hands found your cheeks once more, scrubbing anxiously at the flushed skin.

Shouto caught your hands in his, squeezing tightly in an attempt to calm you, “You are not going to mess anything up.”

But his actions had the opposite effect, his warm touch sending shivers up your arms and worry bubbling up inside your chest. Here he was, always so incredibly good and kind, and you were just… well, you were just you! Plain, old you!

“Oh, I am! I’m going to mess everything up and they’ll hate me forever! And then you’ll dump me and we’ll never get married and we’ll never have babies, and-“

Shouto’s lips were suddenly on yours, hot and demanding. Coincidentally, all thoughts seemed to fly right out of your brain, leaving only buzzing excitement in their wake. Your surprise allowed him to slip his tongue inside without much effort, his mouth working expertly over yours.

To put it simply, Shouto kissed you silly.

When the two of you came up for air, panting slightly, he reassured you, “Love, they like you. I know they like you. I am not going anywhere and we can have all the babies you want. You’re overthinking.”

You stared at his lips, a little dazed from the unexpected kiss. Blinking a bit to clear your head, it took a moment for his words to register, but when they did, you frowned, “I know, I just… Ugh! I can’t help it!”

His warm hand slid under your chin, tilting your face to meet his unwavering gaze.

“Then let me help.”

It was a simple—well, it was more of a command than a question—but it had your mind short circuiting all the same.

“Please?” Shouto tilted his head in question, his innocent expression a stark contrast to the implications of his words, “Will you let me help you, my love?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, unable to resist him when his eyes were burning holes into yours with such an intensity it turned your bones to jelly.

His lips stretched into a lopsided grin before he dove back in, hungrily capturing your mouth with his once more. While you were distracted, one of his hands snaked its way under the kotatsu quilt, finding the soft, little space of flesh above your tall, knitted socks and giving it a light squeeze. A squeak of surprise escaped you, but Shouto swallowed it down, fingers tracing a familiar path up your leg. A path you recognized all too well.

It took all your strength—both mentally and physically—to pull away from his addictive taste, “Sho... what are you doing?”

He eyed you curiously, looking as though the answer were the most obvious thing in the world, “Helping.”

You gaped at him, a furious blush staining your cheeks. He couldn’t be serious. For goodness’ sake, Rei and Fuyumi were just in the next room over!

“W-what? I thought we were just gonna kiss! What about your f-family?!” you managed to stutter out, incredulous.

Shouto shrugged, eyes flickering to the hallway and back, “Can you be quiet?”

You nearly choked. Here and now, Shouto Todoroki was going to kill you. They’d find your lifeless body in his family home and wonder what could have happened. Your ghost would float above them, cries for justice falling on deaf ears. And your boyfriend would stand there, knowing he was the cause behind the mysterious heart failure.

“What?!” you cried, but Shouto was unfazed, carrying on as if you hadn’t spoken.

“I think you can,” he murmured thoughtfully, fingers drumming against the inside of your thigh.

This behavior was so incredibly unlike him, that you were at a loss for words, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, “B-but, but-”

“Shh,” he hushed you, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, “stop worrying and let me take care of you.”

All complaints died on your tongue when he leaned in close, his warm breath prickling your skin as his broad shoulders once again filled your vision. Your heart lurched when his fingers trailed up your thigh, teasing their way up under your skirt. A squeal caught in your throat, your panties sticking uncomfortably to your core. Was he really going to do this right now?! But when his mouth moved forward to capture your own, locking you in another passionate kiss, your thoughts quieted, a happy, little hum escaping you thanks to his skillful tongue.

It seemed this was the response Shouto had been waiting for, because the second you accepted his lips, his deft fingers found your panties, tracing lightly along the hem. He paused a moment, perhaps surprised your lack of safety shorts, but recovered quickly, a single finger hooking under the band. You tried to pull away from him, to remind him of his family in the next room, but he was undeterred, kissing away your protests.

Ever so slowly, his fingers inched under the fabric, resting against your heated skin. You chased after his lips when he pulled away from you, his chest heaving and eyes half-lidded behind his bangs. He was so utterly beautiful that it nearly took your breath away, arousal licking at your core. The air between you had grown warm, whether from the heat of the kotatsu or the moment, you didn’t know.

Shouto looked to you for permission one last time, a single, white eyebrow raised and an unspoken question dancing in his irises. All you could do was nod, so thoroughly bewitched by his beauty.

In an instant, his hand was on you, right where you needed it most. Gone were the fleeting touches and gentle caresses, having been replaced by desire and desperation.

Your boyfriend waisted no time in sliding his fingers up your folds, his eyes gleaming with interest when they came away covered in slick. Shouto’s tongue darted out to lick at his lips, his breath coming a bit quicker thanks to the discovery. He was getting worked up embarrassingly fast, pants already feeling a little tighter.

After a bit of light petting, he finally slid one, long finger inside your sopping entrance, his pace torturously slow and hitting all the right spots. You held back a whine, lip caught between your teeth and your gaze flicking between him and the hallway. A low rumble came from deep in Shouto’s chest, displeased by your divided attention.

In attempt to win you over, he leaned forward, lips grazing along your neck, finger still pumping in and out of you steadily. That seemed to do the trick, your posture finally relaxing and your eyes falling shut. Shouto inwardly celebrated, glad to have finally calmed you.

As he nipped and kissed his way down the column of your throat, his hand picked up the pace, finger thrusting into you a bit faster. The muscles in your thighs tensed and twitched, making him smile against your skin before sitting up, anxious to watch your pleasured expression twist with each careful drag of his digit against your clenching walls.

Hiking your skirt up for better access, Shouto added a second finger without warning, the loud squelch of your wetness making heat rise to your cheeks. An involuntary moan ripped from your throat, prompting him to slap a hand over your mouth.

You both froze, waiting for Rei or Fuyumi to come storming in at any moment, but that moment never came.

“I know it feels good, but you have to stay quiet for me, alright?”

You nodded obediently, whimpers muffled by his large palm. As arousal dripped from your pussy, your knees fell open of their own accord, making space for his hand to slot against you, cupping your heat. Letting your head loll back, you gazed up at Shouto, glittery, little tears brimming in the corners of your glassy, unfocused eyes. It was a precious sight, one that was practically begging for his affection.

Leaning down to place a gentle kiss against the back of his own palm was the best he could offer, knowing your voice would betray you should he let you free. A pathetic whine tumbled from you, desperately wishing it was his lips on yours instead.

“You’re doing so well, love,” he reassured, “I know you want me to kiss you right now, but we can’t risk someone hearing those sweet noises of yours. Just hold on for a little longer, ok? Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

Surely this man would be the death of you.

Your nails clawed at the arm that held you, eyes rolling back when his fingers found that special spot deep inside of you. It felt as though you were on fire, skin burning underneath his touch. All reservations and embarrassment faded away, blinding you to anything other than the rhythmic tempo of his ministrations. Chasing the high that continued to elude you, your hips rolled, grinding down into his palm.

Sensing your impending orgasm, Shouto’s hand lightly pushed against you, urging you down to the floor carefully. Crawling over you, he resumed his brutal pace, finger fucking you as though there were no tomorrow.

You were so damn close. Just when you thought you couldn’t handle anymore, his thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive bud delicately. He just looked so devilishly handsome hovering above you, sharp eyes watching you closely, fascinated by the way your body squirmed.

“Think you can cum for me? I know you need to,” Shouto cooed, thumb and fingers working in tandem to bring you to the very edge.

Your legs quivered, hips jerking up uncontrollably with each press against your clit. Frustrated tears finally slid down your hot cheeks, unable to keep them at bay any longer.

“Pretty girl,” he whispered, a blush of his own settling at the top of his cheekbones, in awe of how angelic you looked underneath him.

His words were your undoing.

Shouto quickly replaced his hand with his mouth in hopes of suppressing your cries. A strangled sound left you, climax tearing through your body with unexpected force. But your loving boyfriend kissed you through it, thumbing away the tears that trickled down your face.

Just when you were beginning to catch your breath, mind still reeling from such an overwhelming orgasm, a knock at the door cut through the silence.

Startled, you sat up abruptly, accidentally knocking your forehead against Shouto’s, “Ack!”

Shouto hissed through his teeth, gingerly rubbing at the welt that was beginning to form when a loud voice rang out from the genkan, “Hey, it’s me, Natsuo! You guys left the door unlocked!”

You and Shouto shared a panicked glance before scrambling to tidy yourselves. Quick as lightning, you adjusted your skirt and rolled your knitted socks back up your thighs.

Rei’s gentle voice answered from the kitchen, “Hi, honey! Dinner is almost ready, Fuyumi and I will be right out!”

While the two of you adopted your former positions under the kotatsu, Shouto reached out and ran a hand through your mussed hair, carefully brushing through the tangles.

“Thanks…” you huffed out, winded from more than just the rush to look presentable.

But before your boyfriend could respond, Natsuo was striding into the living room, briefcase in hand and hair tousled from the winter weather. He plopped down onto the floor across from you, groaning appreciatively as he stretched his stiff legs out under the quilt, basking in the warmth of the heater.

Once he’d settled in, he bowed his head at you politely, “I’m so sorry I’m late. You must be Y/N. I’m Shouto’s older brother, Natsuo.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you choked out, cheeks ablaze as the reality of your risky behavior set in.

Next to you, Shouto sat straight as an arrow, shoulders squared and spine ridgid. He wore a pained expression, though if Natsuo noticed, he didn’t care to mention it.

Suddenly, Rei made her way back into the living room, Fuyumi following closely behind, their arms burdened by many plates and trays of gorgeously prepared food. They’d gone all out, making sure to include all the traditional favorites, the love and care they put into the meal evident. Once everything was laid out on the kotasu table, the two sat down, admiring their handy work.

Conversation flowed easily, Rei asking Natsuo about his day at work and how the office profits were doing. Fuyumi got to work dishing out appetizers, occasionally piping in here and there.

After awhile, Rei’s observant gaze turned on you. You couldn’t help but flinch under her watchful eye, a nervous smile dancing on your lips.

“Y/N, dear, you look flushed. Are you feverish?” Rei’s eyebrows furrowed with concern, the look of an anxious mother staining her elegant features.

You glanced at Shouto, who appeared to be rather uncomfortable with his erection straining against his pants, thankfully hidden by the thick quilt. He merely stared back, a promising look in his eye.

“Maybe I caught a cold on the walk over?”

“Don’t worry, I will take care of you,” were, of course, the next words out of Shouto’s mouth.

tags:

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Genshin Cuddles HCs: Part the Second (Kaeya, Dainsleif, Zhongli)

Is it any coincidence that I'm tired again while doing cuddles head canons? Probably not. I imagine I get really clingy and cuddly towards the end of the day.

But apparently not as tired lol

CW: A little angst, fluff

A/N: As per the last one, reader is presumed to be short because this 100% self insert

kaeya x gn!reader, Zhongli x gn!reader, Dainsleif x gn!reader

(PS. If you want tagged for certain kinds of content, hit me up in the asks. I'll be happy to put together some taglists)

Kaeya

To be honest, on first starting to date Kaeya, you'd think that he would be a huge tease (I mean, it is Kaeya)

But when it comes to stuff like cuddling and mid winter snuggling, it's usually quite the opposite.

After all, Kaeya is far more serious and earnest, I think, than he allows himself to let on.

Cuddles with Kaeya come in three forms

The first is him big spooning and you little spooning. He absolutely loves being the big spoon. You're so small in his arms and it feels wonderful to know that you trust him like that.

When big spooning he really loves to bury his face in your hair and trace little gentle shapes over your skin

Other times things are reversed. He really never thought that he'd enjoy being the little spoon, but he trusts you without reservation. These are moments where he has no responsibility, instead just lets you take care of him

He frequently falls asleep like this, which really warms the heart. It's moments like these where he'll let you take off his eyepatch and set it to the side

What he doesn't know is that when you do, you usually press a little kiss to the scar

Then there's the third kind

These are almost exclusively late at night, when even the strongest masks start to lower.

Sometimes he'll reach out for you, pulling you into his embrace. He'll hold you like you're fragile, like he's afraid you'll break. it's in these moments where he'll whisper in your ear the most genuine words of love

They would be the warmest moments, but in those moments you hear a truth he never speaks. He's terrified of losing you, that you--like everyone else in his life--will not find him worthy of keeping

All you can do in lose moments is lay your head on his chest, letting him wrap you in his arms, until he's convinced that not only are you still here, but that you're not going to leave him

Dainsleif

Dainsleif, I think, is surprisingly good at cuddling

I was honestly surprised in 3.5 when we saw a very gentle side of him and I think that would apply to his significant other

Seriously, the man has lost everything. He's gonna treat his s/o right, no matter what

For Dain, and for you as well, cuddling is a way to relieve stress

It really doesn't matter the position either, as long as you're sharing warmth on cold nights

You can't count the number of times you've curled up against a rock--though you find that's not the most comfortable spot for really anything--laying your head on his chest, just listening to his heart beat

It's just as often that you find his head in your lap, blond hair splayed out while you rub circles into his scalp. The touch is soothing, grounding him in the moment

Of course, there are times when you curl up under a blanket, limbs tangled together, pressed so close you can't tell where you end and Dain begins. Those are almost desperate in nature, as if warding on the ever encroaching nature of time. It's in these moments that Dain finds himself scared, and intent on branding these memories in his mind

Zhongli

Compared to Dain and Kaeya, cuddles with Zhongli are the fluffiest things on the planet

They usually happen at two times of day, with some exceptions

It's not uncommon to start the day with cuddles in bed. You'll wake up to find a pair of strong arms holding you close and a pair of molten gold eyes watching you sleep.

It never fails to make you blush, because he looks at you like you're the entire world. Which is really rather flattering given the power and status of the man currently giving you this ridiculously soft smile

The other time you two cuddle is at the end of the day. Sometimes it's inside by the fire. Other times it's outside looking at the stars, but you almost always end up wrapped up in each other

So many nights, you're tucked under is arm, or laying your head on his lap while you listen to the stories from the past or random every day advice

It's really soothing. He's got the beautiful deep voice that is almost magnetic.

The exception to the rule is when you're upset. There are times when something happened during the day, or you wake up after a nightmare and all you want is to be held and reassured. And he's good at that too. Grounding you, centering you.

Of course you do the same for him, though, given his personality it is very rare. But there are times when the past catches up to him, where an event he is incapable of forgetting weighs on his mind. He's found that your touch, your embrace, you holding him the same way he loves to hold you, makes it a little better

[scarararo]

luctatio // blue lock itoshi rin

luctatio - an effort; a struggle

angst! where rin leaves reader for blue lock

wc: 2066 words

you and rin were childhood friends.

both of you had never spent much of your lives apart from each other; you grew up side by side, matured together, and experienced practically everything together- including your first love.

there was no way he didnt like you. everyone could tell at first sight that he was head over heels when it came to you. no, this isnt a case of unrequited love. you did indeed love him back, so much that you would go to unworldly extends to see him smile. and by that, you truly you meant anything.

the progression of your relationship, the bond you both had from the start, the moment you both realised that you were meant to be ; never had the connection faltered. it had never made you doubt the fact that he was your undeniable significant other, your missing piece.

you would give the world up for him. he would give the world up for you. but of course, whats life without the brutality of it? well, after all, the universe did give up on the both of you.

————————————————————————-

you stood up from the couch upon hearing the doorbell of your house ring with a simultaneous notification from your phone that a parcel had arrived.

“rin!” you call, hoping that he heard you despite the earbuds in his ears.

“hm?” he responded, peeking out from behind the doorframe of the guest room in your family home (it was practically his room, considering how often he would come over)

“come here,” you gestured excitedly, patting the seat beside you, signalling for him to take a seat.

he ambled over with the smile you know all too well, quickly inquiring, “whats up?”

upon sitting down, you eagerly questioned, “rinnie, what’s different about me today?” , a smile on your face.

“you smell different,” he replied quickly, as if it was his second instinct.

beaming, you smiled happily, validating his response with an enthusiastic nod, as you begun to blabber on about your new perfume that you just received, and how you got it for a good price. this went on, with rin by your side, looking at you with eyes full of love. he watched you maunder, looking at you like you had hung the sky in the stars- you had been there for him through everything, and he was bounded by a love that felt unbreakable.

he knows you best, and you know him best. maybe it was his sharp eye, but he could always tell when you were different - even down to the way you lugged your soft toy around your house.

there was once ; you hark back to the time he realised you were carrying the bear plushie (which you named hazel, and proclaimed was your child) by it’s arm instead of its usual neck. when rin noticed, he asked about it, but it wasn’t until his 5th attempt that you spilt the beans. you hadn’t noticed that there was a hole at the side of hazel’s body, and she had lost too much stuffing for her to be comfortable to hold by the neck any further, which was why you begrudgingly and unwillingly switched to lugging her by her arm.

and to that, rin simply nodded in response, acknowledging it and quickly returned to watching the soccer match on television.

the very next day, it was to your surprise that when you came home from after school activities, and on your bed laid hazel; slightly unshapely stuffed with a flower patch sewed messily on top the hole that once gushed out all of hazel’s stuffings.

gasping, you giggled to yourself upon seeing the note that was left beside hazel. it read in rin’s uniform handwriting , “i tried my best. i learnt it last night so it’s lukewarm at most. i hope it’s to your liking. let me know if i can do better, i’m off to practice. see you tonight”

despite the cold weather outside, your heart felt and overwhelming warmth, one that wouldn’t be comparable to a hot chocolate on a cold winter night, or one that came from getting a scholarship- it was different. it was the taste of love.

the next day, you devised a plan to attack him with a flurry of thank you hugs.

its safe to say he wasn’t fazed, he called it, as he wld say. yet a smile crept up onto his face while you weren’t looking, expeditiously wiping it away before you could see it.

too bad he doesn’t know you felt his cheekbones rise, and you smirk to yourself, vowing to keep this a secret that he’ll never know.

————————————————————————-

years flew by, with this being the usual way of life for the both of you.

that was until rin hit the age of 16, when a letter appeared in the mail. a letter that came from the japanese football association.

that was the pinnacle, the twist- of your love life.

the love you both once knew, the once reassuring smile that you once knew, the once warmth that he provided: eventually all faded away, and in its place, stood a seemingly unforgiving, stoic, unrecognisable, cold figure of a man. not the man you knew, but a man.

————————————————————————-

the day and the week that he received the letter was clearly etched into your mind. across the span of that week, you had realised that he was slowly progressively getting more and more distant with you. he would go out daily, and you knew it wasn’t his daily runs or practices - they wouldn’t take that long. he had stopped updating you entirely, and the distance between you both grew.

he would go home later than usual, and woke up before the sun rose. you barely got the chance to see him; lest talk to him about it. furthermore, the text messages you sent were all reciprocated with dry, uninterested replies.

on one hand you wanted to push and ask him for it, or maybe his brother for a valid explanation for rin’s actions. however, this time, it was something different. you know it. it wasn’t something resolvable through a talk, otherwise, rin would have talked it out long ago. the sensation and emotions that resided were too foreign; you were perplexed - unsure of your next step, and hence you decided to wait it out. invariably, time will heal all, won’t it?

————————————————————————-

eventually the talk did come around.

rin asked you to meet at a cafe that you both often, and upon seeing him, your felt your heartstrings tighten, almost about to snap- like a fraying string under pressure. he was dressed in his usual clothes, the sweater you love on the man you love.

he nodded at you, signalling for you to take a seat. he had ordered you a cup of your comfort drink, awaiting on the circular table.

he heaved a sigh, a sigh you knew carried so much weight, and so much regret, guilt, frustration and resolve. you were already aware of the letter he had received, and he decided not to beat around the bush. taking a sip of his drink, he begun.

“blue lock…it isn’t just a normal camp.”, his gentle gaze that once dawned upon you, was now replaced by one that could pierce through rock. “it’s a battlefield; survival of the fittest. it’s where we have to prove ourselves- to shine out above the rest and destroy them, and if you get distracted for just a second, there will be no excuses, no second chances. i-”

he paused. each sentence he said out was equivalent to glass shards being stabbed into his heart- it felt like it was bleeding. his jaw taut and tight, he swallowed the lump in his throat, persisting on to finish his sentence. “it’s where i have to be to reach the top. you know the relationship my brother and i have better than anyone else….it’s…inevitable. if i don’t do this, i’ll never be enough- not for myself, and not for anyone…” his voice crescendoed to a silence, awaiting your response.

he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, seeing you in such a state of hurt, he wished, so hard, how he could just swallow all his words back in.

after a few seconds of profound silence which felt like minutes, rin cleared his throat in attempt to break the stale silence.

meanwhile,you held back your tears that were threatening to spew out, your nails digging into your skin in attempt to control your tears. you press your lips together to prevent them from quivering. you weren’t selfish; you thought to yourself. you were worried you would say something that would hurt him more, you wanted to protect you both.

you felt like you couldn’t comprehend whatever he was saying, it felt like a nightmare you once had, that manifested itself in reality. the weight of his sentences felt like they were wringing your heart out like a wet cloth, leaving you crushed. your stomach coiled in on yourself, the tension thick and awkward.

“you’re really leaving?” you muster out, voice shaky and in denial. “why does blue lock mean leaving everything behind…even me?”

your words softened his heart, you could tell from his expression, tightness in his eyebrows rose in surrender, yet his demeanour remained indifferent. with the ice in his heart evident, he retorted coldly, “i’m not in a place to give you all of myself- my goal doesn’t leave room for anyone else. not even you.”

silence on your end spurred him to try justify his actions even further, despite the air getting ostensibly thicker and harder to inhale.

“blue lock is everything i’ve worked for. everything ive built myself to be, and-”

at that moment, your heart broke, all of your self restraint to try to be selfless and think for him shattered. your morals clashing headfirst with your desires. you longed for him, and you were willing to fight for him, protecting the fire that once shone strongly between the two of you; now reduced to smouldering ash. the words you said next tumbled out of your mouth, with no prior thinking.

“and me?” you pressed, different emotions overwhelming you like a wave. you leaned in closer, tears streaming down like waterfalls. “are we not worth fighting for? it hurts rin…it really hurts..”

rin gritted his teeth, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, “it hurts me too - and i know it’ll hurt me more knowing that i can’t be by your side…” he trailed off, “i know my brother would do the same in this situation, he-”

before he could finish his sentence, the air around you turned sharped to inhale, and his words reverberated in your head like an echo chamber. you knew that this was everything rin had worked for ,you’ve seen him grow and strive towards that goal for years now, you knew how much it mattered. your head pulsed, thoughts at war with each other, as a dull ache bloomed, the sheer weight of your spiralling thoughts pressing against your head cavity- unrelenting and overwhelming.

however, in the deep recesses of your aching heart, you knew one thing; and that was that you would respect rin’s decision, even if it means hurting yourself- even if it meant going against everything you’ve wished for for the future.

“fine then go,” you mustered, voice trembling and afraid, yet with a strong, stable note of finality. each word quivering with agony you were trying so hard to suppress.

“go ahead and leave me behind. leave us behind. leave everything you’ve ever known behind. i hope it’s worth it rin, i hope blue lock gives you what you want, because i won’t, and i can’t be here to cheer you on like how i used to.” swallowing hard, you continued, clenching your fist so hard, your nails dug crescents into your palms. yet, you were determined to get what you wanted to say out of you, before you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore.

“i wish you all the best, rin.”, your voice cracked on the last word, your mind running wild with emotions and thoughts that were jumbled, incomprehensible. you wanted to say more, your heart yearned to say more, but the lump in your throat stopped you.

the note of finality hung in the air, vulnerable and raw, with two fractured souls so far yet so close, leaving both your chests hollow and empty, as if a part of you had been ripped out, and shredded into pieces, forever unable to be reannealed.

————————————————————————-

through your tear tainted vision, you could feel rin’s gaze on you, his usual sharp glare tainted by something he refused to let himself acknowledge. he nodded, “thank you, y/n, for everything.”, his voice was low, hesitant even. he was afraid to say more, he couldn’t trust his heart to hold it’s ground.

he gets up from the table, the chair screeching against the floor, as he grabbed his coat and his duffel. tearing his gaze away from you, he turned around, as though each of his heartstrings snapped one by one with each step he took away from you. away from the life he was leaving behind. he didn’t turn back- not even once, because he knew, that if he did, he would falter, and his heart would waver at the sight of you in tears.

rin walked away, seemingly indifferent to your cries. he stepped out of the cafe door, into the world of blue lock, with his heart burning with every step, yet his resolve burned hotter, knowing how much he had to sacrifice for this dream. this was his destined path, even if he knew he had to walk it alone.

as he left you in the cafe, obsolete and numb, feeling all different kinds of emotions you couldn’t quite put into words, you buried your face impossibly further into your palms, as you glanced at the seat he was in moments before. reality sunk in, he was gone - really gone, and you knew, that no amount of wishing would ever bring him back to you.

that was it.

this was it.

he was gone.

at the end of the day, you both knew, a shared past wouldn’t mean a shared future. it was simply a fragment of the past, a chance of fate that you both met, that this would be and had to be the way life went. your fate was determined from the start, there was no hope, no point in fighting for the both of you.

you were the sun while he was the moon. both close enough to reside in the same sky, yet following such different paths. however, once in a blue moon, just once; both of you had aligned in sync, before nature had to pull you both apart, leaving you both only with the shared memories you both had. the fleeting times of the youth.

[midnight-mourning]

Winter's Chill

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 15❄️❄️

Never written a mer fic before, it was a lot of fun! I see why people enjoy the concept so much ^_^ anywho, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: How exciting! I think it would be fun to have mer snuggles to stave off the cold. Maybe yn is a handler in a aquarium and the dca's favorite human, or maybe yn's a mer, or maybe yn lives by the seaside and yn's they're favorite human. Maybe yn and dca can exchange cold weather traditions/favorite things to do. Being coiled in either of their tails just sounds very warm and snuggly : D

Word Count: 1881

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The breeze blows heavily around you, cutting against the skin of your cheeks with the salt it holds. The sand is cold between your toes as you walk across the shore. It's not cold enough for the water to freeze, but it does send a shiver down your spine as it tickles your toes. It wets the bottom of your pants, but you're too distracted to care right this moment, you'll worry about it after you go back inside. 

Staring out into the surf, you don't see any sign of them, but you don't let that worry you. You imagine with the cold weather they're probably holed up in their caves, staying warm. Like you should be doing yourself, but given the sudden turn in the temps you'd thought you'd at least get eyes on them yourself. 

Additionally, you'd been talking excitedly the past few weeks about each other's cultures and traditions when it came to the winter months. 

The very idea of mers was new to you, but that didn't make them any less fascinating to you. Rather, you were incredibly curious both of the two that had stumbled into your life all those months and of their culture. Much like how they were intrigued by you and the human world. 

Recently you'd been comparing how mers celebrated the change in the seasons versus humans. While you gave gifts and spent time with others, mers apparently had large feasts and parties, followed by periods of long hibernation all together. Waking up every so often to do it all over again. 

The idea of not seeing either of the pair for weeks at a time did disappoint you, despite their assurances that they wouldn't be participating like they usually did this year. You weren't going to keep them from their traditions, just like how they wouldn't ask that of you. 

Still, you'd been hoping to see them at least one more time before they're first hibernation. You shift the gifts in your hands, and adjust the basket on your arm as you scan the horizon one last time. Nothing but brown-grey sea and sky stares back at you. 

With a sigh, you turn around and head back to shore, the wood of your dock damp and cold under your feet. 

About halfway back, you hear a whistle off to your right. 

Twisting, you see a yellow, finned head poking out of the water, around where the shore turns. It peeks out further, revealing a grin of sharp teeth. You return the smile in earnest

Sun chirps, waving at you quickly. 

You shift your presents to one hand and raise your now free one to wave back. 

He makes a beckoning motion and you send back a thumbs up, understanding. He tilts his head a moment, then does the same. 

Doing your best to not slip, you hurry back down the dock and across the beach, rounding the edge where the cliffs start to grow large and rocky. A bit more traveling and you make it down to the stretch where the cave your mer friends call home is. And after a bit more maneuvering and the likes, you head inside. 

When you get there, you see Moon lazily resting on a rock that's partly in the water. He waves a clawed hand to you before resting it back on his stomach, eyes closing. Soon enough, Sun bursts up in the middle of the water, sending waves throughout the pool and disturbing the other mer. 

"Hello friend!" Sun exclaims swimming over to the edge where you stand. "It's so good to see you!"

"You too, Sunny. I was worried I missed you guys."

Moon tsks. "We told you we won't be hibernating this year. Just,"—he yawns—"'Sleeping in' later, as you call it."

"And I told you, that you don't need to change your routine for me. Which is why we're going to have some fun now, and then you’re free to sleep contently for as long as you like." You start setting things down on a rock, scanning for a good location to set up. 

They both watch you intently, seeming incredibly curious as to what you're up to. 

Sun catches on quick. "Oh! Is this that holiday you told us about? Chr-Chrislist?"

"I think it's pronounced 'Christmouse'." Moon quips. 

You laugh, pulling out your picnic blanket and setting it down on the relatively decently sized flat spot near the backside of the cave but still on the water's edge. "Christmas, guys. And yes, that's exactly what we're doing."

Among the things in your basket is a large thermos of hot chocolate, several large raw fish, a few sandwiches and a bag of chips for you—though if they get their hands on it they may fight over it—and a multitude of blankets. 

While again, you knew worrying about them was unnecessary, you figured that any extra help they could have would be good.

Once you're all set up, you turn around, clapping your hands excitedly. "Alright, let's get started—hey!"

Both mers look up from picking at their presents. Then, before you can protest, break out in feral grins hands slinking forward to snatch the gifts up entirely. 

"Don't you dare." You warn. "We're eating, then we'll open presents."

The two share a look, and before you know it, your feet are flying across the smooth rock to try and stop them. Right as they snatch up the gifts and swim back is when you reach the water's edge. But, you'd miscalculated the distance and realize you're running straight into the water. You try to course correct and stop, but it's too late. You slip and fall into the water. 

It's not as cold as the ocean outside. In fact, it's significantly warmer. But still, it's quite a shock to you. You're pulled to the surface by two pairs of strong arms. You gasp when you do, taking a few deep breaths. Taking a moment you realize the air is filled with worried chirps and clips and you have to fight a moment to get them to let you go and strop fretting. 

"I'm okay, I'm okay. It just shocked me is all." You say, laughing slightly. 

They're both pouting as you shoo them away, taking a moment to bob in the water and collect your thoughts. 

After another moment or so, you move back to the shore, pulling yourself out and sitting on the edge, feet still in the water. 

You shake your head, water going everywhere. With a sigh, you start wringing out your clothes. At least they were excited about their presents. 

"We're sorry, Sunshine..." Sun's head is hung low, fiddling with his hands as he just barely peeks out of the water. 

Moon's gone over to his corner to sulk himself. They're downturned attitudes make you chuckle, which perks them up slightly. 

Water pours from your jacket as you twist it tight. "It's okay. Not your fault I'm a klutz. Completely on me."

You're lucky you didn't have anything valuable in your pockets, this would be much worse if that was the case. You make the call to remove your shirt, not able to stand the half damp feeling more than you have to. 

You don't notice the wide eyed stares they both have as you stand up and walk over to fling your clothes over a rock, hoping they'll dry quick but doubtful of such. You remove your pants as well and turn back around again. 

"Well, you guys can go ahead and open them I guess..." You trail off, noticing how they're both just staring at you. "What—oh come on! It's the same as a swimsuit, don't make this weird for me." You skin burns and now you're avoiding direct eye contact. 

You go over and snatch up one of your blankets wrapping it around you. 

"There! Is that better?" You shiver then, the cold finally starting to seep in after the initial surprise and embarrassment have worn off. 

At this, they go high alert. You sit down on the blanket, grabbing one of your sandwiches and taking a bite. "Unbelievable, acting like I'm a Victorian woman showing ankle, nothing you haven't seen before."

There's a splash and you look up, seeing them both hovering above you now. Sometimes you forget how big they are since you're usually looking down at them, instead. 

"Go on, I caught that fresh yesterday morning." You nod to the pile of fish. 

They don't move, and you frown, slowly taking another bite of your sandwich. Another chill runs through you and you use your free hand to bring the blanket closer to your body. 

"You're cold." Moon states. 

You reach for your chips. "A little, I'll live."

Sun's hand wraps around your wrist. "You're freezing, Starlight. You land folk have terrible heat regulation." A cheeky smile appears on his face, eyes narrow. "And that simply won't do."

You make a grabby hand for your chips. You open your mouth to say something, but you're suddenly picked up in a flurry of blue and yellow. 

The first thing you notice is that you go from feeling mildly cold too much, much warmer. The second you notice is a, slightly intense, feeling of being squeezed. 

"Too tight." You managed to get out. 

There's a slight shift and you can breathe again. You find that both Sun and Moon have wrapped themselves around you, resulting in essentially a cuddle puddle of their tails and arms around you. And you will admit, it's actually quite cozy.

The parts of your skin not covered by your blanket or underwear are met with smooth scales that generate a rather large amount of heat. And if you weren't still very hungry, you'd probably have fallen asleep. 

"This is lovely, but can I have use of my arms please?" You ask after a minute or two. 

Sun's shakes his head against your neck, where it's buried. For good measure, he kisses the spot once, twice and snuggles closer. 

Moon's words vibrate against the top of your head, where his chin rests. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait."

"But I'm hungry." You whine. "Arguably, I'm more hungry than I am cold. Besides, there's a big herring in that pile of fish that'll surely go to waste if you don’t—"

"Mine!" Sun hisses, quickly shifting to snatch it up. 

You laugh as Moon growls at his actions, starting to argue over it with the sunny mer. You take the opportunity to reach back and grab your abandoned food, sitting contently as they fight over their food. You think that's fair pay back after your little mishap earlier. 

No matter what though, they keep their tails tangled around you, keeping you cozy and warm as they dig in to their own meals. Almost like a fishy weighted blanket. An odd concept, but a welcome one.

This certainly wasn't how you were expecting this day to go, but you'll have no complaints if this is how you stay for the next several hours. 

Given how wet your clothes were, and how intent your two mers are at keeping you close, you think it'll be at least that long before you go anywhere. 

And that's just fine.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you for the lovely request @rosescarletful!! This was super fun to write and I agree, it DOES sound super warm and snuggly, hope I captured the feeling properly :)

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Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

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@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[cressidagrey]

I breathe flames each time I talk - Chapter 2

Summary:

The story of how Oriana Fireborn Belmont finally meets her mate's family.

Also the story of how Rhysand, The High Lord of the Night Court, finally recognises that by the cauldron, there is no fury like a female scorned.

Azriel would just like everybody to get along.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing, Serious Injury

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

“Where’s Az?” The words of his brother made him look up. 

“He’s not with you?” Rhys responded, staring at Cassian. They were supposed to meet today. 

It was…It was their weekly meeting at the River House. They always all attended. Unless something dire was happening. 

“No. I thought he was in Winter?” Cassian responded. 

“He came home last evening. The whole thing was a bust,” Rhys explained. “He got stuck in a bloody ravine.” He had made his displeasure about that clear to Kallias. Still, that wouldn’t help Azriel or the bruises that his face had gotten from it. 

Cassian grimaced in empathy. “How bad was it? Was he hurt badly?” 

“He said he was fine.” Definitely fine enough to nearly bite off Rhys’s head of that much was certain. Still, that didn’t explain where Azriel was. 

Azriel? 

“And you believed him?” Cassian asked, sounding incredulously. 

Rhy wanted to roll his eyes. 

“He’s a grown-up,” he pointed out. And it wasn’t like Azriel had given him many an opportunity to be worried about him when he had disappeared before Rhys had even been able to tell him to go see Madja for a pain potion. There wasn’t much she could do against the bruises but she could probably do something against the pain. “Besides, my worry wasn’t appreciated.”

“Have you tried reaching out? It’s not like him to be late.” And now Cassian sounded like a mother hen. Still, Rhys amused him. 

Azriel? he tried once again. Nothing happened. He reached out for his brother’s mind. He knew it as well as his own in a sense, easily able to pick out Az and Cass from a crowd, even over loving distances. Something left over from the time when they had been separated by his father. Every evening Rhys had laid in his bed and before falling asleep stretched his abilities to their very limit to brush over Azriel’s mind, then Cassian’s. 

He knew the feel of them, their rhythm…none other would ever compare. 

He found Azriel’s mind, rapping against the wall. 

Nothing happened. No movement. Nothing. 

It stayed still in a way that it never did. 

Even if Azriel was asleep, this would have woken him. He pushed again, and still nothing . 

He could feel the presence of his mind. Azriel was alive, he was definitely in a range where Rhys should be able to pick up his thoughts. But the walls were up, his mind was dark and devoid of anything and…

“Nothing,” Rhys told Cassian, swallowing. “I get absolutely nothing , Cass. He’s not out of my range, but I get nothing .”

“That’s not good ,” Cassian said immediately. He knew what Rhys wasn’t saying, understanding him without a second thought. 

Azriel . Rhys tried once again. Damnit, Az, wake up!

“No,” Rhys agreed. 

“I’ll go check on his house,” Cassian immediately said. “It’s as good a place to start as any. See if he arrived back home.”

Yes, that was sensible. 

“I’ll check in with Nuala and Cerridwen,” Rhys agreed immediately. “Let me know once you know.” Rhys hesitated for a moment. “Thank you, Cassian,” he thanked his brother. Cassian stared at him for a moment, inclining his head. 

“He’s my brother too,” Cassian gave back quietly. Though Rhys could hear the sharp point in that simple statement. That Cassian did this for Azriel. Not for his High Lord, not for Rhys. “Let me know if you get anything.”

Azriel? He tried once again, as Cassian left the room. 

Nothing. Silence. Stillness. 

Absolutely nothing that spoke of his brother. No dry remark, to pointed comment. Nothing. 

Something was wrong, Rhys could feel that in his bones. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Enya had stayed for a few hours.

Long enough to make sure that the healing was going to stick , so to speak. Long enough to make sure that Oriana wasn't going to have a mental breakdown. Long enough to promise her that Enya would be back that evening, making sure that everything was going to be alright with Azriel. 

Still, finally, Oriana had apologized to the shadows for using them as some kind of transportation service, though they seemed more amused than anything by that. She managed to whisk Enya back to the mountain before anybody even noticed that her sister had been gone. 

And then Oriana had been at home, alone. Unable to sleep. Even when she tried. 

And she had tried more than once but every time she had closed her eyes she would see visions of Azriel suddenly stopping breathing in the middle of the night, without her noticing and she hadn't been able to stomach that.

She knew that it was ridiculous, especially because Enya was the best healer her people had to offer. 

If Enya said that Azriel was going to be alright, then Oriana could trust her sister. 

But to love was to worry. Oriana had learned that lesson the hard way. 

So she kept her vigil in the overstuffed armchair they kept in the bedroom and watched the healing field do its work to keep Azriel unconscious and let the healing magic actually heal him. 

Oriana wasn’t the only one who kept a vigil, Azriel’s shadows did the same thing, curling themselves around every bit of skin they could get from her because they clearly couldn’t be with Azriel right now. 

She nodded off a few times and then startled herself awake again. She forced herself to eat when the first rays of light broke through the window, managing to write a note to Penelope to open the store without her and that she wouldn’t be there for a few days. 

Pen and Cilla would have The Goldmine well in hand, she was sure of that. She had trained them well. 

Still. 

She worried. 

Came afternoon, she started making soup, trying to give her hands something to do, starting not to have a complete meltdown, even when she really wanted to. 

She had always known that Azriel getting seriously hurt was a possibility, was something that could and probably would happen in the future. But to see it…to see her mate that she loved near death and feel like there was nothing that she could do to stop it…that was another thing entirely and Oriana hated feeling helpless. 

She could make him armour but no amour couldn’t protect him against a bloody ravine. 

Nothing could. 

And then, just as she was peeling potatoes for her stupid soup…she could feel somebody at her ward boundary. 

She paused in her work, willing them to go away. She didn’t like it. Nobody ever came that close to their house. She had made sure of that. There was a notice-me-not enchantment worked into her warning net, ensuring their privacy from anybody that she didn’t personally know. 

She didn’t like somebody being there, pacing. 

Especially not when the presence didn’t disappear. 

Oriana made the choice immediately, her magic reaching out to seal the bedroom with Azriel inside, making sure that he was safe. 

Mistress? the shadows asked her, clearly startled by her sudden action. 

“Somebody is coming,” she answered as she walked out of the house. 

And then all hell already broke out. 

It’s just the General, the shadows assured her. At the same time, immense magical power was thrown against her ward that broke wide open under the onslaught, doing the only thing they could, going out in flames, burning him.

He, was a tall, brutish man, with red glowing siphons. Illyrian. 

That’s all she got, as he tackled her to the floor, the edge of a knife pressing to her thr.  

Bright Red Magic poured against her warding net and made it shatter. It reacted the only way it could, its last action being to turn into flames. She had seconds herself to react, but she wasn’t a fighter, wasn’t a warrior, hadn’t been trained for this. Her work had always been in the forge, making protection. She had never been the one doing the protecting. 

And against a pissed-off Illyrian, that was clearly all muscles and little else…she had absolutely no fucking chance. 

They crashed to the floor, his weight on top of hers and she swore she could feel her ribs crack under his impact.  

“Who are you?” He demanded the blade of his knife against her throat. She swallowed, her mind running a mile a minute. 

Mistress… the shadows hissed worriedly, but she could only stare at him. 

He looked like Azriel did. In so many ways. The same hazel eyes, the same dark skin…the round ears…the same massive wings…but he was broader than Azriel was, more muscular, a scar knicking the side of his face. 

And she couldn’t help but be fucking furious that he had destroyed weeks of her work. 

It wasn’t the smartest thing to say, but then she hadn’t slept in days, and her worry about Azriel was making her furious. 

“You destroyed my ward!” She snapped at him. Her ward! It was the safest thing she had ever created and he had ripped it to pieces without even breaking into a sweat!

“You burned off my hair!” He snapped at her, and only now she realised that he was indeed…half bald, the hair singed off thanks to her magic. 

“You are holding a knife to my throat!” The singed-off hair was probably the last of his worries. And then she realised that she was magical, damnit, and willed the metal of his knife to grow hot, to grow malleable, kike she did to the metal in her forge, when she was working on it. 

He had no choice but to let go of it unless he wanted to burn his hands. She couldn’t help the proud expression on her face at that. That’s what he got for that. 

“You melted that!“ He snapped, trying to replace the knife with his bare hands, but her skin could be heated just as much as his knife. She was going to put herself on fire if he didn’t let go of them soon. So she moved her hand to the knife she wore strapped to her thighs. He caught it in a vice-like grip. 

“Who are you?” He demanded, glaring at her. 

She glared right back. Who did he think he was? “Who are you? You are the one who destroyed my wards !”

“You are the one who is here at my brother’s house !“ 

Oh. 

Suddenly she felt a tiny bit better about her wards being ripped apart like wet paper. This was Cassian. Azriel’s brother. The only other Illyrian who wore 7 siphons.

She stopped fighting him, looking at him, taking in the male before her, mentally sliding him in place into the stories Azriel had told her. 

Azriel’s brother. 

“I live her,” she answered, still staring him down. Any minute now. 

“You live here,“ he repeated, sounding like he didn’t believe a word she said and then he opened his mouth to say something else and froze in place. 

She could see the moment his eyes widened, as realisation set in. He caught her scent which she knew was a mixture of hers and Azriel’s even now, making it impossible not to notice for, because he would be able to easily pick out his brother’s scent. He would know. 

Azriel had never really given her much of a reason as to why he didn’t want his brothers to know. At first, she had just thought that he was shy, but lately, she hadn’t been able to get it from her mind. Especially not since they had made plans to go to the mountain at her birthday, to introduce Azriel to the rest of her siblings, to her mother and grandmother. 

Azriel had never made plans like that. Still, she hadn’t pushed. 

And now they were in this fucking position. 

Oh well. Cassian could just fuck off. She imagined that Azriel had some kind of reason for it, even when he hadn’t shared it with her. 

“You are Azriel’s mate .” The word came out haltingly like he couldn’t quite believe it. She could smell him too, smell the surprise, shock and anger that was dissipating. 

“Wow, you are a genius,” she drawled. Oriana couldn’t keep the disdain out of it. “What gave it away, the fact that I am in his house or that I smell like him?” she asked him drily. 

“You…since when…” She had made him speechless. He was still holding her down though, and her ribcage ached with it. “How?” he demanded and she stared at him

“I think you know how mating works, Oh mighty Lord of Bloodshed.“

“Azriel has never mentioned you,“ he shot back and she could just stare at him. She wondered why. 

“Then maybe you should think about why ,” she pointed out, shifting, trying to take some of his weight off her.” His scent changed again, so quickly that it was getting her whiplash, something like happiness, quickly replaced by fear and then back to contentment. 

“Truce?” Cassian offered her and she glared at him.

“Get off me , you big brute,“ she muttered under her breath as she finally felt like she could breathe again as he rolled off her. The shadows converged onto her as soon as they could, helping her to his feet.

Mistress, are you alright? they asked her, sounding worried, but she waved them off, taking a deep breath against her aching ribcage and pressing a hand there. 

“My name is Cassian.” 

She just so managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. 

“I know,” she gave back. She knew his name. She knew who he was even. She knew that he was the General of the Night Court’s Armies. She knew that he was Azriel’s brother. She even knew that he was mated to a female named Nesta. 

“May I know your name?” he asked, sounding taken aback.  

“Oriana.”

“No surname?” 

“Don’t you have one?” she snapped right back.  

“I am a bastard,” he gave back pointedly. “I don’t have one.” 

Right. She knew that too, but it had slipped her mind. 

“Fireborn or Belmond depends on who you’re asking,” she finally answered, softening just a bit towards him. Even when he had destroyed her warding net. 

“I am looking for Azriel,” Cassian finally said. “He was supposed to be in a meeting. Rhys can’t reach him. He could be in trouble.” 

Suddenly his sudden appearance made sense. Still, she couldn’t help but laugh, because clearly they had cooked up something in their heads that was far removed from reality. 

“Oh, he is in trouble. With me,” she answered. “He’s unconscious. That’s why Rhysand can’t reach him.” It was all she was willing to give, though she was softening because Cassian smelled actually worried and had come to check on Azriel. That counted for something. 

“He’s here?” She nodded. “Can I see him?” Cassian requested, his voice quiet. He smelled worried. She was waffling for just a pent but then…well. He was Azriel’s brother. He was important to him. 

“Do you promise me not to destroy our house?” Oriana asked drily.  “I’ll burn you to a fucking crisp if I need to.” She meant it. She could probably manage that if she put her mind to it. For Azriel. 

“You have a dirty mouth, you know,” he told her as she turned back to the house. She opened the door, letting him in.  

“I don’t actually. You just caught me at an ill time. After I spent a few hours yesterday wondering if my mate is going to die on me,” she gave right back, her voice cutting. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Cassian asked, the smell of worry intensifying as she led him towards their bedroom. She took the ward off the door with nary a thought as she pushed open the door.  

“He’s bruised extensively, and I didn’t think it was anything but that at first,” Oriana explained. “He had a headache…we both thought he was just tired…he woke up three hours later vomiting blood and losing consciousness. He had inner bleeding in the abdomen. The healer told me all that was wrong with him but after that I just…” Enya had explained it to her in detail. She just couldn’t…recount it all. It had been a rather long list. 

She watched as Cassian took in Azriel, still lying on that bed, wings spread out, chest rising and falling. He reached out for the greenish glowing dome and she caught his hand. 

“Don’t touch it, please,” Oriana said, not wanting his magic to interact with her sisters. , “It’s a healing trance. We use it in the mountain…I have it on a very good account that he’ll be fine. He was bleeding out from within. Which would have been caught if he had gone to a healer after his mission and didn’t come home to me immediately, because I quote I missed you ,” she muttered under her breath. 

He could have died. Just because he had hurried to meet her. Hurried to see her. If he had just gone to see a haler…then this wouldn’t have happened. He would have been fine so much earlier. 

“Are you a healer?” Cassian asked her curiously and she couldn’t help but snort. 

Not in a million years. Thought she was wondering if Enya couldn’t at least teach her enough to…stop him dying. Stem bleeding, magical first aid. Anything like that. 

“Do I look like a healer to you?  My bedside manner would be more than questionable,” she answered. 

“What are you then?” Cassian asked, mustering her curiosity. She wondered why he was curious. If it was just because she was Azriel’s mate or if there was another reason for it. 

“Does it matter?” Oriana asked as she leaned against the door.  She was a lot of things. “By Trade? An Enchantress. By Creed? A Goldsmith. By heritage? Half High Fae from the Autumn Court, half Tartera Faerie living in the mountain. By Love? His mate. And that will always come first.”

She was Azriel’s mate these days. And that took precedence over anything else in her life. 

Even now. Especially now.  “Emotionally? Completely pissed off at Azriel, right now,” she added, her voice breaking. He could have been fine. But he wasn’t. And really as pissed off as she was at Azriel for being stupid and hurrying home even when he should have gotten his injuries checked out…there was someone she was way more annoyed at these days. “And at your precious High Lord when we are already at it.”

“Rhys? What has he done?” Cassian wondered, blinking. 

“Send Azriel on his merry way. He wouldn’t have even been there if it wasn’t for him. Azriel thought the whole thing was a bad idea, but Rhysand insisted.” If he had just listened to Azriel, it wouldn’t have happened. But no. He knew better. 

Great to know that some things haven’t changed in two centuries. 

“He wouldn’t have done that if he thought that something was wrong,” Cassian said carefully. She couldn’t help but snort. 

“You don’t believe me,” Cassian said drily and Oriana shrugged. 

“Let’s just say that I have a list of problems with him, and this is just the last one I added to it,” she gave back evenly. 

It wasn’t even a joke. She actually had a list. It went from simply political, which was the question of what the fuck he was thinking he was doing with Hewn City…to the more emotional and not actually that thought out though the way he seemed to talk to Azriel, pissed her off to no avail. 

“With Rhys? What had he done to you?”

“To me personally? Nothing. To Azriel? I have a list,” Oriana said, sticking out her chin, and crossing her arms. 

Cassian’s brows rose. 

 “Does he know about you?” Cassian wondered. 

Oriana thought back 200 years ago. She imagined she had made an impression. There weren’t that many people that put a High Lord’s jacket on fire, right? 

“Rhysand knows off me. There is a difference,” Oriana said carefully. “If you ever want to annoy him you should ask him about his last trip to talk to Custodian of the Mountain…oh about 200 years ago? And what happened to his favourite jacket,” she answered. 

Cassian looked like he was biting back a grin. 

“There is a story there, isn’t there?” he wondered. She shrugged. 

There was. It involved Enya. And Rhysand. And completely inappropriate flirting. And Oriana. Who had put Rhysand on fire. 

“He’ll be fine?” Cassian asked, looking at her for assurance as he nodded in Azriel’s direction.  Oriana just nodded. 

“He’ll be perfectly fine. A healer will check on him in an hour or so,” she answered. And maybe she could get Enya to check out her own ribs when she was already it. Give her a bruise balm or something. 

“Thank you,” Cassian thought and only a moment later she realised that he thanked her for getting Azriel help. Like just letting him die had been a fucking option for her. 

“He’s my mate ,”  she spat out. “I did it for him, not for you.” 

“I know that,” Cassian assured her, meeting her eyes. “Thank you for loving my brother.” 

Oh. 

She softened. “He’s very easy to love.”

“Will you let me know when he’s awake?” Cassian asked and she nodded. 

“I’ll have the shadows sent a note,” she promised him. “The healer said another day or so.” It depended on how his magic reacted to the healing trance.

“Thank you,” Casisna thanked her again, turning his back to his brother and she led him out of the house. 

She was hesitating if she should broach that subject, especially now, especially like this…but she really…well. 

There was this one thing that she couldn’t get out of her damn mind. 

And as Cassian turned to say goodbye, it burst out of her. 

”Were you the one who told him that he would need to pay for sex because he’s so disgusting that that is the only way he could get somebody to pretend to care for him?” She spat out. Because if it was…

Cassian’s eyes widened. 

“ What ?” his voice was hoarse as he asked that one-word question. She could hear the shock in his voice.

“I am paraphrasing. I imagine the real sentence was more along the lines that if he wanted sex he should go to a pleasure hall and better pay for it,” Oriana rephrased it. “I just ask, because he clearly took it to mean something very different.”

Cassian swallowed. 

“Were you the one?” Oriana demanded harshly. He shook his head. 

She took in his demeanour. Even before he opened his mouth to respond she believed that it wasn’t him. 

“He’s my brother,” Cassian said, his hazel eyes turning fierce. “I would never say something like that to him.” She met his eyes. 

“Somebody did,” Oriana said, keeping her voice even, very carefully.   “I am putting you on notice, I don’t fucking care who it was, but if I find out, I am going to put them on fire.” If it was going to hurt htem, well, she didn’t know that yet. But they were going to pay for this. One way or another. 

“I’ll help,” Cassian promised her. “I’ll hold them down for you.” 

“Then we have an accord.”

[cerezzzita]

Wish You a Devilish Christmas! ★ A Fluffy Fic with the Sparda Family

Hello, @queenmuzz! I am your Secret Santa for @dmc-secret-santas of this year! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing and so sorry if the ending is kinda wonky, I managed to finish it all today and didn't had much time. I, myself wish you all a Devilish, Merry Christmas!

1) Pandoro is an Italian type of bread, culturally and usually made on Christmas, covered in sugar, tasting like vanilla and shaped like an six-pointed star.

Pat!, Pat!, Pat!, the wooden floor responds to the bare footsteps of tiny feet. On that newborn morning of the first day of the joyous month of December, the little Nero had risen even before the sun broke through the skies in his flavescent chariot, timidly piercing the thick curtain of gray clouds and the crystalline winter veil, venturing to run through the extensive corridors of the mansion in search of the right door. There were so many of them! He vaguely remembered the moment when his grandfather, Sparda, a great demon in human skin but always enframing a gentle and inviting smile on his face, had told him that his own demonic sensors were as young or younger as he was; and for Sparda, someone equally vivid and prolonged as time, Nero was very, very young. And despite his best efforts, the little one was unsuccessful in his hunt for his father’s bedroom door.

Pouty, Nero increased the weight of his steps and opened the first door within reach of his large, glacial eyes. His chubby cheeks widened again. It was his grandparents’ room. Blazing like a lightning, soon the boy was vibrating with euphoria, jumping on the bed without hesitation to snuggle into his grandmother’s lap, who until then was comfortable in the physical arms of her husband and in the dreamlike arms of the solemn Morpheus.

“Nonna! Nonno! Wake up, wake up! It’s already Christmas!”

Faced with the significantly strong shaking for a seven-year-old child with a quarter of demonic blood in his organism, Eva was forced to wake up from her pleasant sleep even in the heat of fright; she blinked, bewildered, slowly adjusting her blurred vision to the current scene in front of her — and to her side, where Sparda had already raised his robust figure, presenting them with his usual smile. 

“Nero, darling…” She stammered at first, rubbing her heavy eyelids with the back of one hand, the other cradling the little boy against her chest. “What are you doing out of bed so early?”

“Good morning, little Nero!” Sparda saluted, with an exciting glow in his eyes, something alike someone who hadn't even really slept. Soon, the grandfather’s long, robust arms cradled his wife and grandson. “I take your grandmother’s question as mine: What are you doing out of bed at this time? Don’t tell me that the fleas of an Cerberus invaded your bed?” The theatrical gasp at the end of the speech made Nero laugh, unfolding himself on the sheets to fit in among the adults. 

"No, no!" He vehemently denied it. “Didn’t you hear what I said? It’s Christmas!"

Eva, already a bit more awake, drawing an arch in her blonde eyebrows and an amused smile pulling at her lips, giggled as she said: 

"Christmas? As far as I can remember — and for the last time I stopped to look at the calendar before going to sleep — today is the first of December.”

The little one looked at his grandmother as if something very obvious was being declared — as or more obvious as someone exclaiming that his hair is white. Silver, actually, but he liked to compare the coloring to mounts and mounts of fluffy snow, too.

“And that means it’s already Christmas, nonna!” Nero threw his hands up, trying to reinforce his point. “We have to decorate the house! And make cookies for Santa and pandoro¹! Oh, and hot chocolate with cinnamon rolls! We have to buy presents and call Uncle Dante!” 

“Agreed,” says Sparda, preparing to leave the comfort of the sheets and his wife's redamantic warmth with his grandson in his arms. Automatically, Nero hugged the kind demon’s broad shoulders. “Nero is right, my beloved Eva. We have a lot to do until Christmas Eve!”

“Yeah, nonno!”

“How can I disagree and say no to two stubborn people consumed by the Christmas spirit?” Eva blows, also planting her feet on the woody floor of the room. She placed a kiss on the boy’s forehead and another on her husband’s lips, to which Nero was instinctively reactive when he vocalized an “Ew!”. “But one thing at a time, you hear me? Come, Nero. Let’s see if your father is awake while your nonno calls your Uncle Dante.” 

“At this time, he shouldn’t be up,” Sparda pointed out, transferring the child into the woman’s arms. “Our son has a peculiar sleep, or as some say, a ‘stone sleep’.”

“He had someone to take after…” She said, vulpine. The demon gasped again, breaking the drama with the giggles exchanged between her and little Nero. 

That was the cue to leave the room, Sparda cutting through the distant corridors towards the retrograde and central telephone in the living room, Eva and Nero going towards the door of the room furthest from the others. With three knocks on the fine mahogany and without immediate response, it was concluded in the matriarch’s mind that Vergil was no longer enjoying a good morning sleep; not that it was like him, after all his biological clock was quite… peculiar. All this to say that her eldest son and father of her precious grandson had a practically incurable case of insomnia.

“I already know! He must be in the kitchen, nonna!” Nero pulled his grandmother back from the noospheric halls with his high, childish tone of voice before something else waltzed into them. 

Eva nodded, her pair of hazel irises sparkling, a small smile adorning her face. 

“Let’s see if we can guess what he might be doing: pancakes?”

“I highly doubt it,” the boy wrinkles his nose. In a glance Eva remembered her boys, sometimes unhappy and discordant with each other. The similarities between Nero and Vergil were striking on many occasions. “Dad doesn’t like pancakes unless they have blueberries in them.”

“That’s right, how could I forget? You have a point, dear. So, it seems that he must be drinking tea while leafing through his favorite book of William Blake poetry for the umpteenth time, right, Vergil?” 

The man who held the steaming cup with a minty aroma — ah, mint tea, usual refuge for his taste buds — centimeters in front of his mouth frozed, his thumb wrapped around the page that was about to be replaced and his characteristic glacial eyes expressing surprise at the scene that his mother and son witnessed when they arrived not far from the kitchen counter.

“Good morning to you too, Mother,” he hissed, his voice a fine line between caution and annoyance. The journey of his field of vision went from Eva’s candid face to the glimmer in the blue of her son's orbs. Vergil sighed, sewing a tiny smile on the corner of his mouth. “Good morning, Nero.”

Just like that, the little boy jumped off his grandmother’s lap and sailed towards his father, grabbing his legs, the limit he could reach at such an age and height. Vergil stroked his hair and for a moment he thought that the shy sun of that morning was actually hidden between Nero’s broad and peachy cheeks, so bright and lukewarm was his beaming. 

“Morning, dad! Dad, dad! We’re going to start preparing things for Christmas! Nonno is already calling Uncle Dante and we’re going to decorate the house, make cookies, and hot chocolate and-”

“Nero… Breathe, one thing at a time.”

“That’s what I told him,” Eva said, laughing, with her back turned and in the background as she poured herself a cup of tea. “And there’s no point in making that face, Vergil. Your brother is coming to spend Christmas with us like he does every year, so I ask of you two is to behave, please. You’re already too big for your beaking.”

He widened his eyes. “But I didn’t-”

“Vergil, I am your mother. It’s the least I can assume what’s obviously going through your head.” 

Nero hid a not-so-subtle laugh in his father's pajama pants.

“She’s got you!” He laughed, with his finger pointing towards him. 

Sparda burst into the room before Vergil could react, the phone hooked to his ear. 

“Yes, son, we need to decorate the house! Well, the sooner the better! Soon Christmas Eve will be at the door! As long as you don’t eat half the ingredients for supper — because I know what you and little Nero are capable of doing when Eva isn’t looking — and don’t fight with your brother... Dante, my son, now exactly is..." He paused for a moment to glance at the clock high on the kitchen wall. “Seven in the morning. What do you mean you won’t be in time for breakfast? I know the roads are covered in snow- Oh, of course! Activate your Devil Trigger! No, no one will see! We’ll be waiting for you in twenty minutes!”

“Tell him I sent him a kiss and a punch because he doesn’t call us often! And that I will make pancakes now!” Eva shouted, albeit jokingly. 

“Yay!” Nero rejoiced, sitting next to Vergil. 

“Your mother sent you a kiss and a punch for not calling us often,” Sparda clearly swallowed a laugh. “And she said she’ll make pancakes now. Eva, he said to separate the ones with strawberries.”

“And mine with blueberries, please,” Vergil vocalized, between pages and sips. 

“Can I talk to Uncle Dante, nonno? Please?” 

“Son, Nero wishes to speak to you,” and the phone was gently passed into the boy’s little hands. 

“Hi, Uncle Dante!”

With a yawn, Dante exclaimed on the other end of the line: 

“What’s up, kid! So that means you’re now responsible for the family’s Christmas spirit, right?”

“That’s on me!” Nero used a pompous tone in his voice, a chuckle soon after. “Come quickly, Uncle Dante! We have to put up the Christmas lights after breakfast!”

“Relax, Devil May Cry Express is already sending the package. A really nice package, I must say. Adios, my favorite nephew!”

“Hey, I’m your only nephew!” He protested.

But Dante had already ended the call. Pouting, Nero handed the phone back to Sparda — who was hiding a petit smile with the back of his hand — and went to help Eva with the pancakes. 

Half an hour later, the youngest son returns to home. Dante was ultimately hugged by his parents and exchanged playful faces with his twin brother, not for long before the matriarch intervened and pulled his ears; “And no coming at me with your sweet forehead kisses! You still owe me for not calling often!” she said at some point during the reunion. Of course, Nero threw himself into his uncle's arms and then the two promptly volunteered to be Eva’s sous-chefs with the Christmas meals, although they were removed from such duty and placed to help Sparda with the lights and garlands throughout the mansion. Vergil was selected to help his mother instead, much to the duo's chagrin. 

“Learn that life is not always fair, dear son and little brother.”

Winter dragged the crystals from its veil through the days until Christmas Eve. Days filled with hot chocolate, the infamous hazelnut cookies made by Eva — much appreciated by the men in the family, by the way —, toasted marshmallows and sweet, vanilla-tasted pandoros in just the right amount. When the twenty-fifth day finally arrived, the family was settled in the living room, by the fireplace, surrounded by thick, soft blankets, more cups of hot chocolate and precious cinnamon rolls. A silent Christmas, yes. Pacific, too. Not very common in the Sparda family, but comfortable nonetheless.

Little Nero couldn't ask for any better gift.

“And we, from the Sparda family, wish you all a Devilish Christmas!”

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure Arc: A Song on a Silent Night

Before we begin I’d like to get personal for a moment. About a year ago I decided I was going to step away from this blog as a daily format and only post when I was really inspired to. It was a drastic step, but one I had to make because I was so burnt out and so deep in seasonal depression that I was on the edge of having a breakdown. Ironically, it was this specific adventure arc that did it for me, as I felt pressured to make something for the holiday season but literally couldn't get words on the page. Taking a break turned out to be the best thing for me. This past year has been great and I’ve actually had enough energy to not only do the projects that are important to me, but to also improve my writing.   My partner and I have written a narrative podcast and we’re shopping it around to producers at the moment, I couldn’t be more excited. (BTW if you happen to be in the business, give me a shout) In many ways it’s very cathartic to come back and finish this adventure. I’d even say it was easy, since I didn’t have the pressure I self imposed because I thought I needed it to write. I just wanted to say: Take care of yourselves friends. Nurture yourself and good art will follow. I am so thankful to have you all as my audience and I hope you know that no matter how bleak the season gets it’s an absolute joy to write for you.

It’s the coldest night of the year, and despite all the lights on in town no one is home. They have been snatched from their beds and their hearthsides by a sinister song that carries on the wind and has spirited them off to another world. Our heroes must follow, and in order to get their friends and family back they must lay siege to the sorrowful heart of winter itself.

Find out what led to these events, and their outcome, below the cut.

Into:   Some weeks before the disappearances begin, the party are sent into the cold to check on a missing mail shipment, only to end up clashing against a group of hobgoblins intent on ruining the holiday season. From there, acts that might be construed as harmless planks escalate into outright malice as it becomes clear the hobs are disappearing townsfolk, working off some sort of list given to them by an unknown villain. 

Adventure Hooks:

If you’re running this adventure arc as part of a longer campaign, consider previewing the hob’s lair long before the villains every arrive, an old ruin where fey and witches are said to revel during the new moon. Having a low level party venture out to the ruins for a test of bravery only to return months later as veteran heroes will show them just how far they’ve grown.

From deadly pranks to highway robbery, each act of malicious mischief committed by the goblins is accompanied by a list of names and seemingly innocuous offenses, evidently ripped off a far larger list in possession of their leader. The party are likely to collect more than a few scraps of these over the course of their journeys, and will be surprised when they begin to form together, laying out a series of disappearances that stretches back some years. 

The goblins’ leader Klatterbell was having such a nice time in the mortal realm before the party got involved. As a hob-knight in service to an archfey of sorrow and frost, the material plane was practically a balmy vacation destination compared to his patron’s foreboding frozen realm. This led to Klatterbell slacking off on his task of collecting mortals and develop aspirations of becoming a sort of yuletide bandit lord.  Aspirations the party can’t help but thwart when they riad Klatterbell’s fortress and set the captives free.  The fight can end either two ways, either the party is defeated, captured, and banished through the portal to the frozen realm of the bleakfather,  or the party is victorious, and as his last act Klatterbell rips a horn from his belt and plays a haunting and mounrful note that will be picked up by the wind and transformed into a haunting tune. 

Returning home from defeating the goblins and rescuing the captives, the party find the town deserted, the strange music unleashed by Klatterbell’s horn echoing in the roar of an approaching winter storm. With their rescued townsfolk in toe, the party will begin to explore the eerily empty town, discovering that the inhabitants seemingly got up from what they were doing and walked into the cold, proceeding enmass to the edge of the settlement where the snow erases their footprints.   It’s at that point that the frost giants attack, walking out of the enroaching storm like it was a curtain between worlds. They’re here to mop up any townsfolk where were not swept up by the enchanting song and whisked away to the feywild, and maybe do some looting while they’re at it. 

Regardless of how it shakes out, the party will have to assail the realm of the Bleakfather, battling their way through a boreal wind that will seek to rip all warmth and joy from their bodies. The only way of getting through this storm is to think back on the moments of joy and light they’ve experienced through their adventures: the festivals, the little kindnesses, the gifts, the pranks, the games, the songs, their friends: These things will lend them strength when the cold and the dark creep in to swallow them… battling their way up the mountain, to rescue the townsfolk and perhaps defeat the archefey himself. 

Future Adventures: 

It wasn’t only the party’s neighbors that were taken captive by the bleakfather, scores of innocents from across the realms were taken by the frostgiants as thralls, all living out their indenture over the feywild’s timeless years. Hospitality will hold for the winter, but come spring the heroes will need to set off to find these people a place to live. 

With their slaves stolen and their fortress breached, the ice giants will scatter, some returning in months or years later at the head of raiding parties as they too seek a new home.  While some may be hesitant to give up their supremacy and seek to subdue the locals wherever they go, others may wish to live only in peace. 

[mongoosingisme]

Title: Operation: Cranberry Sauce

Series: Sticking the Landing (see fic Masterlist for previous parts)

Rating: Explicit (MDNI)

Relationship: Harvey/fem!Reader

Word Count: 5289

Summary: Harvey is not very good at taking care of himself when other people need him. You intend to help him with that.

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Lil’ warning: this fic does mention the ramifications of food poisoning, so if you’re sensitive to that sort of thing you may want to proceed with a tiny bit of caution.

Your great aunt died a week before the Feast of the Winter Star, because of course she fucking did.

The two of you were not close. 

She was family, though, and your mom was laying on the guilt, so you threw up your hands, asked Marnie to look after the animals, and hopped on the bus two days before the holidays. It was the responsible choice, you reminded yourself. You were trying to be a little more responsible these days. Take a little more care.

The plan was seven days with your family. You were back on the bus in five.

“Welp, glad to know moving out here was the right call,” you muttered as you hauled your suitcase down the familiar dirt road. Your family wasn’t awful, not compared to some, but between the house filled with guests, the combination of death and holiday, and the unceasing noise and confusion of the city?

It felt good to be back home.

While you were gone it was difficult not to focus on what you were missing. The gathering in the town square had sounded cozy, the time you were sure to spend with Harvey afterwards even cozier, and all in all you’d spent your holiday slightly despondent. 

But you were back now, and you were going to focus on the perks of returning early: two extra days of help around the farm and a chance to make up for lost time. 

You and Harvey had exchanged numerous texts (and one particularly enjoyable phone call) the first two days of your exile, but after the holiday his responses had become increasingly spotty. You were anxious to figure out what exactly was up with that.

After checking in on the beasties (all looked well, clearly thriving under Marnie’s care), you made a beeline for the clinic. The sun was sinking low as you arrived, and you nearly bumped into Maru as you opened the door.

The two of you shared an easy acquaintanceship. Not friends, not exactly, but friendly whenever you spoke, which was becoming increasingly more common these days.

“Oh, hey,” she said. She looked exhausted. “Didn’t know you’d be back today.”

You shrugged. “Plans changed. How’re things here?”

Maru snorted. “Abysmal. Harvey’s going to be glad to see you.”

Uh oh. “What happened?”

“Food poisoning. Apparently something wasn’t right with the cranberry sauce at the feast. We spent the last three days trying to keep half the town hydrated. Don’t think Harvey’s gotten more than ten hours of sleep the whole time, and if I see the color red again in the next week I’m gonna lose it.”

“Oh Yoba, that’s awful! Should I leave him be?”

“Nah, go tell him to take a break. He’s up to his neck in paperwork. Guess we’ll be solvent until Spring at least.” 

Of course he was still working. “Go get some rest, and stay away from the leftovers!”

Maru grimaced as she walked off, and you ducked into the clinic. It smelled strongly of disinfectant, but the odor faded as you turned towards Harvey’s office. 

You found exactly what you were expecting - your favorite doctor hunched over his desk, lab coat on instead of his usual jacket, messy head leaning on a hand as he scribbled something on a sheet of paper. 

You knocked on the doorway, “Hey, doc.”

Harvey looked up. He seemed to take a moment to focus, though whether it was due to surprise or fatigue you weren’t sure. “You…” his voice was low, raspy. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” you confirmed.

“Wh- why?”

“Well, someone gave me some leftover cranberry sauce and now I’m not feeling so hot.”

It would have been funny, how quickly Harvey jumped up, if the circles under his eyes weren’t so dark. “How long has it been since you’ve been able to keep water down?” He was next to you in an instant, gentle hands holding your face, tilting you towards the light, peering into your eyes.

“I’m joking, Harvey, I’m fine. No cranberry sauce, promise.” 

You felt bad, then, for making him worry. He looked about ready to collapse. His hands shook a little against your cheeks as he lowered his forehead onto yours. Three days worth of stubble stood out in stark contrast to his pale face, and his normally impeccable dress shirt was wrinkled and drooping. You noticed a stain on the collar of his coat, decided not to ruminate on its likely origin.

He could probably use a shower.

“Have you left the office since the holiday?”

“I tried to this morning,” he said. “Kent vomited on my shoes before I made it out the door.”

You noticed he was only wearing socks. Noticed a pile of empty instant noodle containers toppling out of his garbage can. The smell of old, burnt coffee permeated the room.

“You’re here,” he said again, in that sweetly disbelieving way.

“You’re a mess,” you said, far less sweetly.

Harvey chuckled, the laughter lifting a layer of exhaustion from his face (about 83 layers still remained). “I’m a disaster. But I think we’re through it. Sent Sam home a few hours ago. He was the last one.”

“Good. I’m going to go lock the door. People can puke elsewhere for a while.”

Harvey was shaking his head. “No, I need to stay open in case people need me.”

“I need you to take a shower.” You pressed a kiss to his temple, softening the words. “I promise Pelican Town can handle its own ejections for a few hours.”

Harvey shuddered, drooped. “There were so many ejections. So many.”

“I know, honey,” you said, taking his hands off your face and pulling him out of the office. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

“I never want to see a cranberry again,” he muttered, and you smiled as you pulled him towards the stairs.

It was good to be back.

***********

You shooed Harvey into the shower the second you  entered his apartment. The falling water pattered faintly as you poked around his kitchen. The only foods you found that weren’t the equivalent of a frozen salt lick were a jar of pickles, two heels of bread, a bit of peanut butter, and a Granny Smith apple.

Guess you were calling Gus.

You sighed and considered the fruit as the saloon phone rang endlessly. Gus must have been off his feet too. Apples and peanut butter would have to do. It was a step up from cup noodles, at least.

You’d finished slicing and were scooping some peanut butter on a plate when the bathroom door opened. Harvey passed through to the bedroom with a towel around his waist. You considered following him, showing him just how much you missed him while you were away, but decided it would be more responsible to get some sustenance into the man before you rode him off into the sunset.

Besides, he was already coming back out, looking slightly refreshed and certainly more comfortable in pajama pants and a loose white t-shirt. You smiled to yourself, enjoying the domesticity of it, the gentleness that settled in your chest upon seeing your favorite person on the road to being cared for and restored.

But then Harvey strode over to you, picked you up by the back of your thighs, settled you on the counter, and you realized that while you were feeling soft and gentle, Harvey most certainly was not.

“I missed you,” he murmured, lips traveling the curve of your neck. While he’d gone as far as showering and brushing his teeth, he’d not yet shaved, and the rasp of his stubble against your skin made you shiver.

“I missed you too,” you said with a small gasp - he’d just nipped at your throat.

“You were… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He grabbed your hips, hauled you to the edge of the counter, ground his pelvis in between your parted legs. It was thrilling, the man who was always so deferential to the bodies of others moving yours to his liking. “I thought I was going to lose my mind.”

“Are you sure part of that wasn’t the cranberry sauce?”

He groaned into the spot he was kissing on your shoulder. “Do not say those two words right now.”

You laughed, then moaned as his hand covered your breast. It was tempting, almost impossibly so, the thought of giving in. Seeing where his frustration and exhaustion, the lack of his usual

composure would take the two of you. See what might happen if he let himself take instead of always giving.

It was a very nice thought.

But no. The man had been running on fumes for the past three days, and you weren’t about to let him burn himself out completely. 

“Whoa there, partner,” you said as his teeth scraped across your collar bone. “You need to eat something.”

“I fully intend to.” The way he was working your nipple between his fingers made it beyond clear he was not referring to apple slices.

You felt your face heating a bit. “Harvey, I mean it.” You bit back a gasp as his fingers found a particularly good angle. “I’m not going anywhere, you need some food and some rest.”

“I need you,” he countered, fingers hooking into your waistband.

“Harvey!” You wrapped your fingers through his hair, soft and still damp from the shower. Pulled him away from your neck. He looked at you as you held him back, dropped his hands to brace himself on either side of your hips. His chest was moving, rising up and down with more force than you’d ever seen. His eyes were dark.

“Eat first,” you said, dropping his hair, letting your palm trail down his cheek. But as soon as you let go he was moving in again, lips on yours now, hard and demanding and desperate and Yoba you absolutely did not want to be the responsible person right now.

But for him you would be.

“Stop.” You jerked your head back, laid your hand across his neck. He froze, inches away from you, still staring with those dark eyes. You could feel his pulse pounding. Your hand had to stretch wide to cover his throat. “Eat.”

He nodded. Swallowed. You liked how it felt under your hand. Liked how he felt under your hand. Liked how he looked, all flushed and desperate. His lashes were longer than you realized, you could see it now, there with his face free of glasses and so, so close to you.

You reached over with the hand that wasn’t cupped around his neck, grabbed a slice of apple, ran it through the pile of peanut butter, held it up to him. He opened his mouth obediently, eyes locked to yours. You pressed the apple in, letting your thumb brush over his lips as they closed around the fruit.

“Good,” you whispered. Harvey shuddered. 

There was something about that you liked. Something about the way his throat moved under your palm as he swallowed, the way he opened his mouth for you as you raised a second piece of fruit. 

“You’re going to eat this whole apple,” you said as you pressed it between his lips, “and then we’ll decide what to do next. Okay?”

Harvey nodded, pressed a kiss to your fingertips. 

“Now behave, you.” You dropped your hand from his neck, though part of you would have preferred to keep it there.

Harvey stayed close, leaning on the counter with both hands as you fed him the rest of the apple. Some of the tension left his body, which was satisfying, but it came right back when you licked a fleck of peanut butter off his bottom lip.

You were still working on being the responsible one, okay?

As soon as Harvey swallowed the last piece he leaned in to kiss you, but you stopped him with four flat fingers against his mouth. “You’re not done,” you said. 

Harvey huffed, backed off an inch. “You’re a difficult person to please.”

“Yet you do a remarkable job of it. Here.” You ran two fingertips through the peanut butter left on the plate, held them up to his lips. He opened for you easily, and you pressed inside his mouth. 

He was warm and slick, tongue running over the pads of your fingers, between the digits, lips closing around you, pursing, sucking. The sight of him, mouth wrapped around you, green eyes looking up through his lashes, body big and warm and close and hovering over you on the counter…

You hoped the apple was restorative, because you were done being responsible.

You pressed your fingers in further, felt the rumble of his moan vibrate around them. “So here’s what I’m thinking,” you breathed. “You’re going to go and lay down on the bed, okay? Get nice and comfy. Relax. Then I’m going to come and have a seat right about here…” You turned your palm, shifted your fingers so you could rub your thumb over Harvey’s mustache. He closed his eyes, groaned, bumped his hips into yours. “Sound good?”

Harvey nodded enthusiastically, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little as you drew your fingers out of his mouth. Yoba, the man could be cute. 

“Go lie down,” you said.

“Come with me.” He pulled you off the counter by your hips. 

“I was going to clean up a little,” you said as your feet hit the floor, but he was grabbing your hand, pulling you to the bedroom, and who cared about being responsible anyway?

Harvey’s bed was small, but plenty big enough for him to stretch out. He let you push him back onto it, helped you strip off his shirt, propped himself up on his elbows as you made quick work of your clothes.

He made a soft “hah” sound as you stood naked in front of him. His arousal was markedly clear through his pajama bottoms, and you saw absolutely no reason why you shouldn’t wrap your hand around it as you settled onto the bed. Harvey’s head tipped back, then his whole body collapsed as you worked him gently. A small wet spot grew on the light blue fabric - it seemed Harvey didn’t see underwear as a post-shower necessity.

You could work with that.

Or at least you could if he wasn’t urging you closer, hand on your hip, and you had to settle for straddling him. His skin was warm beneath you, impossible to resist, so you ran your hands over his soft stomach, trailed them across his shoulders (always so much wider than they seemed under his jacket), traced a finger around one nipple.

Harvey accepted your ministrations, but only for a moment. “I seem to recall,” he paused to gasp as you leaned down to run your tongue over his collarbone, “something about taking a seat.”

“Aren’t you always telling me to be patient?” You smiled at the way he groaned when you fastened your lips on his neck.

“I’ve been patient enough,” he said, resting a hand on your hair. “You’d have come three times by now if I’d had my way.”

“You’d pass out from malnourishment before number two. Now hush.” You weren’t stalling, not really, it’s just that what seemed so easy to propose in the kitchen was a little more intimidating now. The whole mustache ride thing… super hot in theory, a little mortifying when faced with the reality.

But Harvey’s hands were cupping the backs of your thighs now, urging you upwards. You shifted a little, straddling his ribs, hovering. “Are you sure… I’m not going to, like, suffocate you or anything, am I? Because I feel like suffocating Pelican Town’s only doctor is not a great way to ingratiate myself with the locals.”

Harvey laughed, looked up at you with those warm eyes. “Of course you’re not… have you never?”

You shrugged, your bombast dropping a little more. Always great at jumping, always fumbling the landing.

But it was Harvey, so he was catching you. “You’re not going to suffocate me, and if you did I can think of no better way to go. Now get up here, I’ve been dreaming about this since…” he flushed, “for a while.”

You decided you’d store that little tidbit away to mull over later (just how long have you been starring in his fantasies, anyway?). “Alright, it’s your funeral.” 

He huffed, pulled you forward, helped you arrange yourself, a thigh pressing into each ear, hands gripping the headboard, and then all there was to do was let him guide you down. 

Harvey’s hands were gentle at first, pressing on the tops of your thighs. But as soon as his mouth touched you all that changed. His arms clamped over your legs with surprising strength, pulling you onto his open mouth, warm and wet and moving, tongue searching through your folds, running from your entrance to your clit in one broad sweep. Your hips stuttered and he made an approving sound, pulled you down deeper, thrust his tongue up with more vigor, tasting, trailing up and down, and you realized it was all about the angle, the way you could move your hips to control exactly where the pressure mounted. You could tip forward, present your clit to the flat of his tongue, or grind straight down, the sharp scratch of his stubble a shocking counterpoint to the smooth, steady movements of his mouth. 

Your eyes had fallen closed the second he touched you, the instinct to turn inwards, focus on the way the sensations barreled through your core impossible to overcome. But as you got used to the intensity, found you could control it, you were able to look down. And Harvey, who’d fifteen minutes ago looked ready to drop, was as relaxed as you’d ever seen him. Face flushed, nose peeking out from beneath your curls, lashes fanned over his cheeks, looking like every care had been lifted off his shoulders, like he’d reached a level of peace most could only dream of.

“Fuck,” you moaned, drawing out the word. Harvey made an encouraging sound, held you even tighter, and there wasn’t much more you could do but hold on, rock your hips in time with the pulse of his tongue, grind down into it, finding the thread that pulled you tight, pulled you up, pulled you in on yourself, pulled the muscles in your back and thighs and stomach until you were shaking and whining and climaxing in a way that was rich and deep and longer than you’d ever had before.

You felt a rush of wet, a slight edge of unease, but Harvey was groaning, desperate, lapping you up.  He was moving beneath you, no longer relaxed and restful. Hips shifting, knee bending to plant a foot flat on the bed, thumbs pressing into your hips, tonguing you in a way that sent your already overshot nerves singing, flinging you back up immediately, crying out, grabbing his hair (he moaned, fuck, the sound he made as you pulled, fuck fuck fuck) and it was almost more than your body could bear, the tightening, your muscles clenching endlessly, chasing a precipice that eluded and eluded you until finally, finally, his tongue found the nerve that sent you hurtling again over the edge.

“Fuck!” you gasped. “Fuck! Harvey! I can’t!” He was still pulling you down, mouth still working, would keep on working until the sun rose, you had to assume, but you absolutely could not take it, had no choice but to let your body sag over, let the wall and his arms catch you as you rolled off of him, settle to his side, eyes clenched shut, breathing in short gasps and whimpers.

“Yoba,” you gasped. “What did you just do to me?”

You didn’t have to look to see the smug smile on his face. “Worth a little suffocation, I’d say.”

“Fuck, Harvey, that was… fuck!” You put a hand over your eyes, tried to regain some semblance of composure. Harvey ran his arm under your neck, pulled you close to him. You buried your face in the soft skin of his chest, felt the hairs there brush against your lips. Felt the prod of his cock, somewhere around your hip, the pounding of his heart under your cheek.

You’d missed him. 

“I didn’t ask you how your trip was,” he said after a moment. His tone was conversational, like he didn’t just make you come hard enough to melt your brain.

“I assure you there is nothing to report.” You were coming back to yourself a little, enough to shift your leg, roll half onto him. “You were the one with the exciting holiday.”

“Don’t remind me,” he said, and no matter how relaxed he may have looked with you riding his face, how much he’d moved beneath you, there was no mistaking the dark circles still under his eyes.

“Did you get any sleep?” You’d rolled on top of him fully, knees on either side of his hips, head resting on his shoulder.

“Some,” he said. His hands found your ass, kneaded the soft flesh there gently

“Enough?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “No, but that’s part of the job.”

You sat up, indignant enough that you didn’t register how his cock pulsed under you, the way his eyes fixed on your breasts. “It shouldn’t have to be. I don’t like how run down you are.”

He looked ready to defend himself for a second, but then his face changed, softened. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I care about you,” you said.

Harvey squeezed your thighs. “Thank you. I… thank you. I promise this isn’t close to the most exhausted I’ve been while practicing medicine. It’s what I’m good for.”

You hated that. 

“I hate that. You’re good for more than running yourself ragged taking care of other people.”

“It’s not…” he tried, but he couldn’t seem to come up with a response, which made sense because you were right, dammit.

“I’m right, dammit.” You rolled your hips against him for emphasis. He closed his eyes, took a breath. He looked tired again, like he did when you first saw him that evening. Exhausted. Hunched and pale and alone. How many times had he looked like that when you weren’t there to see? How many times had he ignored the apple, gone to bed by himself? For how much of his life had he done what he’d always done with you: give and give and give without asking for anything in return? For how long had he felt that’s all he was on earth to do?

It was a lot to consider. You ached, just a little, as you looked down at him. “You give too much,” you said.

“I like to give.”

You knew he was telling the truth, but still. “You can’t do it all the time. You deserve to be taken care of too.”

Harvey parted his lips as if to speak, but said nothing. Just looked at you, tired eyes soft. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips. He touched your cheek, sighed. You lingered, leaving soft, slow kisses behind, on his lips, his cheek, his nose, his forehead, his eyelids. He held you loosely, hand light at the small of your back, but there was still no ignoring the brush of his cock as you moved.

Well, that’s at least one thing you could do. It’d be the responsible choice, wouldn’t it?

“Now,” you said, settling back on his hips, “tell me you have condoms in that table right there, so I can take care of you.”

Harvey drew in a breath, shifted under you. “I have condoms in that table right there.”

“Phenomenal.” You rummaged in the drawer while he kicked off his pants, helped him roll the rubber on, positioned yourself over his cock.

“So,” you said, shivering a bit as his tip brushed against your entrance. “Do you promise you’re going to get some sleep after this?��

Harvey’s hands were on your thighs. “I promise,” he said.

“Good. And tomorrow - no paperwork and no appointments?”

He was a little less amenable to that. “I… I can’t turn someone away if there’s an emergency.”

“Hmmmm…” you sank down an inch. Harvey took a breath, closed his eyes. The slight flush on his face made him look a little less exhausted. “I will concede that you shouldn’t let anyone die, but otherwise?”

“Day off,” Harvey gasped. His hands were on your hips now, pushing down a little, not enough to force you down, but enough to make it clear how he’d like you to move. 

You straightened your legs instead, loving the low sound he made as he left your body.

“And your food. You can’t live off pickles and microwave meals. I have two days with no plans. I’m cooking for you, yes?”

Harvey was starting to look a little overwhelmed. His mouth opened, eyes closed, hands grasped at your thighs. You could feel him bucking up, but you raised your hips higher. “Yes?” you prompted.

“You don’t… you don’t have to do that…”

“True,” you said. “But if you don’t agree I’m going to get up and go do the dishes.”

He groaned. “Don’t go.”

“So I’m cooking for you, yes?”

“Yes.” 

“Good,” you whispered, let yourself fall down on him again. Watched as his shoulders curled inwards as you took him in. One inch. Two. Stretching you so slowly and sweetly. 

“And another thing,” you said, rising back up off of him. The sound he made was absolutely wrecked. You loved it. “Why were you doing paperwork when I came in? The clinic was empty, you should have gone home.”

“Had to be done,” Harvey gasped. 

“Mmmmmm, not buying it. Try again.”

His face was more than a little flushed now. “Missed you,” he said. “Didn’t know what else to do.”

Oh.

Oh Harvey.

“I’m sorry I had to leave.”

“No. Don’t apologize. You had to go. I just…” He swallowed, ran a hand over his face. “When things get busy like that… it takes me back. I get… it’s hard to turn my brain off, you know?”

“Mmmm, I know.” You ran a flat hand over his chest in a comforting circle. “I know. How’s your brain right now?”

Harvey choked out a laugh. “Not much blood in it at the moment, if I’m being honest.”

“So what are we going to do about that?” You lowered your hips, just a bit, just enough for him to feel the heat of you. 

“Whatever… fuck, whatever you want.”

“What I want?” There he was again, too focused on someone else, too worried to settle into his own mind, his own body. You wanted him there, not thinking but moving, feeling. Wanted the way he’d put you on the counter, finally released from his drive to consider every other body before his own. 

You’d thought that taking care of him meant making him rest, but now you wondered if maybe what he needed was to move.

You looked down at him, flushed and dark-eyed, hands gentle but shaking, holding himself back. “What I want is you,” you said, “but what I need is to go do the dishes, so I’m going to go take care of that right now.”

You were a genius, because he did exactly what you’d hoped he’d do as you swung your leg over to get off the bed: he groaned, grabbed at you, pulled you back in close to him. But then he did more, flipping you, flipping you both so you were under him in one fast movement. You gave a delighted laugh as the mattress hit your back, then moaned as Harvey pushed himself into you with one delicious thrust.

Yoba, the man was big. The sensation, the contrast of going from completely empty to toe-clenchingly full made you groan hard and loud, and Harvey froze inside of you. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Too much going on in his head still. You wrapped your legs around his back, let him feel your nails as you grasped at his shoulders. “If you don’t give me more of that right now I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

And oh, the sound he made at that. You’d have to add it to your list of sounds you’d never expect to come out of his mouth. Low and broken, not quite a groan, not quite a growl. And he was moving, thank Yoba, moving in you just the way you wanted, just the way you knew he needed. Fast and hard, hips snapping, chest heavy on yours, propped up on an elbow. 

The way he moved bordered on overwhelming, sending waves through you, up into your jaw, to the muscles in your calves. You let your nails dig into his back, heard him hiss, then he was catching your wrists, pinning them down above your head with one big hand.

Yoba. 

“Yes,” you moaned. He moved faster. His mouth latched onto the side of your neck, stubble scraping, teeth dragging, overwhelming your senses even further. His cock hit every inch of you, filled you completely each time it snapped in. The way he groaned with each thrust, the sounds his body made as it hit yours, the tight steady pressure of his hand on your wrists, the way you couldn’t move, couldn’t think… you were completely overtaken. 

You were going to come, you realized seconds before it happened, high and bright and tight, so different from the liquid richness you’d felt when you were on his mouth. It made you cry out just as high and bright, made you sob, and Harvey’s free arm was around your waist now, holding you up, holding you to him, holding you down by the wrists, holding you and taking, finally, finally just taking, and it was the best damn thing that’d ever happened to you.

His thrusts were losing rhythm now, going harder, deeper. He stiffened, groaning, holding tight and still for long, long seconds, until finally he collapsed. He lay on you, and you luxuriated in his heaviness, the pounding of his pulse where his neck touched your jaw, the way his breaths came hard and heavy in your ear.

“Good job,” you whispered, and he shuddered. Shifted to the side, just a little, his weight still half on you. 

“Are you okay?” He shifted further, curling around your side, running an arm under your neck. His fingertips gently traced over your wrists. “Was that too rough?”

“That was fucking perfect,” you said. “It’s amazing to see you let go. I loved it. Let's do it again.”

He relaxed, huffed that little laugh of his. “Mercy,” he said. “I’m going to need a little time to recover.”

“I suppose I did make you promise to get some sleep,” you conceded. 

“Mmmm, sleep,” he murmured. You helped him get the condom off, cleaned him up with a tissue. Helped him shift so he was tucked under your shoulder. It was tight, but that was okay. You fit together perfectly.

You stroked his hair as his eyes closed. Within a minute his breathing was slow and steady. You wondered if this is how he felt, every time he managed to give you exactly what you needed. It felt like power, yes, but it also felt like peace. A key to a lock. The first step off the bus, looking down the dirt road that would take you home.

You pressed a kiss to his messy head, quiet and calm in sleep, and smiled. 

It was good to be back.

[raph-x-reader-logs]

Last Updated: 16 July 2024

Fluff

Raph with S/O who has particular sleeping habits by @novasintheroom , 2POV, gn!reader, hc format

Spring Fever by @dontlookatmytmntcollection , 3POV, fem!reader , suggestive ending, Summary: Raph is upset you have to go into work.

Raphs Karma pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 by @tmntxreader-fics , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: You leave your best friend Raphael for school and return a few years later to a tank of a turtle. Will you be able to hide your feelings from him?

Bad Child by @tmntxreader-fics , 2POV, gn!reader, slight angst, Summary: Birds of a feather flock together. Who knew that being the dejected/temperamental sibling of the family would make you an unlikely ‘friend’?

Getting Stitched Up by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: You bandage Raph up after a fight.

First Kiss by @yorshie , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raph is a stubborn man. You can be stubborn too.

No Good, Very Bad Day by @pink-bandana-writes , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: You've been stressed and he wants to help you feel better.

A Nervous First Kiss by @captainofthedauntless , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raphael really wants to kiss you, but he's nervous about it.

Gym Buddies / pt2 / pt3 (NSFW) by @eveandtheturtles , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: You made the mistake of making New Years Resolutions with a friend and got ditched. Raph lets some things slip!

Tender Moments by @cowabungacafe , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raph thinks you're absolutely adorable.

Quiet Connection by @cowabungacafe , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: "Putting their foreheads together and just being content with each other's presence"

Homecoming Comfort by @cowabungacafe , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: "Those nights when they come home late and see you asleep on the couch and they come, pick you up and tuck you into bed with a kiss on your forehead"

If You Take My Pulse by @theawfuledges , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: It's not like he's avoiding you. When he see's you he nearly makes a fool of himself and he'd rather not deal with that..

Pining by @moxfirefly , 2POV, Suggestive, fem!reader, Summary: He wanted to eat you. Not in the full definition of the word, but the spirit of it.

Summer Loving by @zprites , 2POV, f!reader, Summary: “Well, that didn’t go as planned…”

Cuddle Time by @yorshie , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raphael's first time cuddling with you.

Cramps by @eveandtheturtles , 2POV, f!reader, Summary: Raph helps you through you cramps.

NSFW

Hey, Beautiful by @avery73 , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: Waking up in the middle of the night in his embrace really gets you going... He sees no problem with this.

That's Starting to Get Annoying by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader , Summary: Raph wants to spend time with you, but your phone keeps ringing.

They're Gonna Hear Us by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary:"They're gonna hear us." "Then I guess you better be quiet."

Raph Watches You From the Rooftop by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: "I can make you feel better than that pathetic toy"

Ya’ Can Repay Me In The Mornin' by @vintagereigns , 3POV, fem!reader, Summary: Raph helps you get nice and relaxed before bed.

Oh Shit.. by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: "I think the condom just broke.."

Begging by @raphsgrl , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: A short oneshot of some spicy time with Raph.

To Leave a Mark by @oozedninjas , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: "Mark me. Mark me so everyone knows who I belong to."“You’re mine”

Spotting by @faith-forgxtten-land , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: It's Valentine's Day and you want to try working out with Raph.

Differences by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: He loves how small you are compared to him.

By The Fire by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: A little warm, cozy loving with Raphie on a cold winter night.

The Naked Challenge by @theturtlelovers , 2POV, Suggestive, gn!reader, Summary: Raph decides to start things by giving you something nice to look at.

NSFW Alphabet by @dontlookatmytmntcollection , 2POV, fem!reader

Angst

Let's Trick or Treat! by @thejudiciousneurotic , 2POV, fem!reader, Angst with some Fluff, Summary: “I love you; I swear I do, but we're not wearing matching costumes”

Yellow Light by @justalotoffanfiction , 2POV, fem!reader, Angst with Fluff, Hurt and Comfort, Summary: Inspired by the song Inventor's Daughter by the Branches. Reader meets Raph for the first time and isn't scared away by him.

Be You by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader, Hurt and Comfort, Summary: Raph helps you through some doubts you have.

In My Memory by @eveandtheturtles , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: There was an accident and love makes people hang on when they should let go.

[ardentprose]

Candlelight Candor

A/N: This is the first public one shot I've written in a very long time so bear with me as I find my footing again.

Type: just sweet and simple fluff; Foggy Nelson x reader

Length: 4.8k~ | 20 min

Warnings: cursing; minor suggestive thoughts; fem!reader

Feel free to message me if a necessary warning isn't mentioned.

Summary: the worst storm of the decade, an unreliable old building, and being alone with your crush, Foggy Nelson

Hell hath no fury like a New York Nor’easter. It didn’t matter whether you had grown accustomed to the brutal winters in the city that never sleeps, because each summer lulled you into a false sense of serenity before winter struck again, the sky darkened, and ten inches of snow were threatening to bury the streets.

Any sane person would be hunkered down in their home, buried under an appropriate amount of blankets, and soundly sleeping away the precious hours gifted by the closing of the workplace.

Any sane person not in love, that is.

When you got the call that Karen was trapped north of the city, as the town she was investigating was hit with the storm first, you were tempted to hang up and go back to sleep. But how could you say no to:

“Good morning, sunshine!”

It took an embarrassingly small amount of convincing for Foggy Nelson to coax you from your haven and come to his law firm to lend an extra hand in the last day leading up to a case. The enigmatic lawyer had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it.

As you tugged on your heavy duty winter coat and forced your triple socked feet into your boots, you dearly wanted to curse the man for taking advantage of your infatuation. Of course, in his mind, he thought you were just a dedicated friend, and while that may be true, it would be more honest to say you were at his beck and call because you were in love with him.

Consequently, you find yourself hunched over a small desk in a small law firm with poor heating, hoping the feeling in your fingers returns.

And that was before the lights went out.

Precarious flames flicker among documents scattered across whatever surface area could be spared. Careful of the two candles flanking your papers - one cinnamon spice and another the supposed ‘scent of rain’ - you hunch lower and squint, trying to make connections between the paragraphs of legal precedents and other such jargon in the wavering light.

You don’t know how much longer you can strain your neck, scrounging every line of text for a loophole or mistype that will get this case thrown out. The ache in your neck grows insistent until you are forced to lift your head and roll your shoulders to appease the pain for a moment. Your eyes, sore from reading in dim light, fall on the lawyer across from you, taking in the welcome sight of him compared to dull printed texts.

Albeit, Foggy sits across from you in a similar position, muttering from down-turned lips as frustration pinches his expression. Occasionally, he heaves a sigh or grunt through clenched teeth as he hits another dead end. Even still, you allow yourself a small smile at how the orange flames cast warmth on his blond locks, causing them to shimmer like spun gold between the shadows.

A prick of alertness wakes you from your dreamy gaze and casting your eyes around you for the sixth sense of being watched, you find the other partner of the firm, Matt Murdock, smiling in your direction as if he could see you.

Your smile falls immediately, though the endeavor is fruitless as your remaining blush gives you away. Despite not having vision, you knew Matt caught you making heart eyes again at your ‘strictly professional legal friend’. It wasn’t the first time Matt sent you an impish smirk or raised his brows in question at your obvious pining. Especially when you laughed too loudly at Foggy’s quips. But what about it? You liked a sense of humor in a man and Foggy Nelson was a comedian in your enamored eyes.

The maddening thing was Matt doesn’t even pause his reading, skirting over lines of Braille with the same urgency as Foggy muttering out paragraphs of legalities.

You roll your eyes and Matt’s grin widens, but you choose to ignore him, checking your wrist watch for the time.

Your glance never makes it to your wrist, but diverges instead to the window when a sudden bang knocks the glass within it’s frame. The forceful wind rattles the glass with vengeance until it settles into an ominous vibrato. It wasn’t the first time that hour, but the three of you jump in your seats all the same.

“For Pete’s sake, this case better be able to fix that goddamn window.” Foggy curses, rubbing a palm over his heart from the abrupt break in silence.

“We have to win the case in the first place.” You lament, heaving a sigh to regain a normal heart rate.   

“We have less than an hour to find a reasonable cause to dismiss this case. But I’m pretty sure I’m reading algebra right now for all the good these candles are doing.”    Foggy groans, tussling his hair into a visible display of his perturbation. Your eyes follow the motion, happy to see something other than poorly lit paper stimulate your vision, though you sympathize with his annoyance.

“Justice never sleeps.” You quip and Foggy matches your wry smile.

“Of course the courthouse is open.” Foggy continues, flipping over another page. “Hell has frozen over but did the courthouse care? Did they reschedule? Of course not! Why indulge the safety of their tax-paying citizens when they could freeze them to death instead?”

“Whoa there, Foggy, is that the hangover talking or just you?” Matt teases, his fingers hesitating over some lines as conversation picks up.

“If anyone is hungover it’s you and your stupid smile that somehow thinks it’s appropriate to make an appearance right now.”

“I’m not the one who suggested shots last night.”

“I’m not the one who drank them all.”

“Hey, I’ve been quiet and well-behaved this entire time.”

“Guys…twenty minutes…” You interrupt, your own sense of justice dwindling by the hour.

You were more than accustomed to the bickering between the two law firm partners. Despite not being a lawyer yourself, your paralegal abilities were usually called into action since being acquainted with Nelson and Murdock over a previous case. You didn’t even work for them, yet you found yourself here more often than your own office. You also found yourself playing referee alongside legal assistance. At this point, you had helped Foggy and Matt win so many cases and stay friends while doing so, that you were an honorary member of the firm.

Foggy flips a page before him, chin resting on his fist. “I say we call the courthouse and tell them we were trapped inside. Couldn’t open the front door cause of all the…”

He squints.

His eyes go wide.

“Fuck! I found the damned thing!”

A groan of relief resounds from Matt and he throws himself back into his swivel chair, spinning to the side slightly. You break into a smile, watching the candlelight twinkle in Foggy’s eyes with his newfound ecstasy.

“Will it help win the case?” You ask, voice soft if only because of your overwhelming affection.

“This piece of evidence - or should I say lack thereof, will get this case thrown out into the nearest dumpster!” Foggy exclaims, meeting your eyes with his own mirth. Your smile grows larger at this revelation.

Matt tilts his head and once more you feel that devil grin, but you refuse to meet his invisible gaze. However, your up-tick in heart rate betrays your fear of a much bigger revelation being exposed by the brunet lawyer.

Matt seems to spare you from your fears, speaking instead of the case at hand.

“Foggy, I don’t know what we’d do without you. I don’t know how I missed such an obvious detail right in front of me.”

As he stands up, Matt compiles his own version of documents into his briefcase.

“What an oversight on my part.”

He grins expectantly.

You throw your head back and groan, then lift your head in order to glare at Matt.

“That’s the last one, Murdock! You’ve hit your ‘blind’ joke quota for today.”

Matt pouts, jerking on his winter pea coat.

“It’s my law firm, I can make as many jokes as I want. Who am I offending?”

“It’s our law firm, buddy.” Foggy comes to your defense. “And your jokes are in poor taste only because they’re not funny.”

“Hey,” Matt lifts the strap over his shoulder and slides out from behind his desk. “I’m funny.”

“Funny-looking.” You tease. Foggy snorts and points the tip of his pen at you in approval. You bite your lip to keep your grin from spreading into ‘infatuated’ lengths.

“Now, I can’t help that,” Matt gestures to the glasses in his hand before slipping them onto his nose, “given, you know, that I’m-“

“No more!” You point your finger at Matt in warning.

“Alright, jeez. Tough crowd.” Matt grins, still clearly proud of his sense of corny humor.

Before he makes his way to the door, he turns partway to explain his departure.

“I’ll head out first to meet the client early. It’s gonna be hell catching a cab in this storm. Plus the traffic will be worse…you get it.” Matt sighs and snatches his cane from where it rests beside the entryway. He lifts it as a form of dismissal.

“Good idea. I’ll revise our argument first then head over. It shouldn’t take more than a few quick amendments.” Foggy says.

Matt nods and turns to leave.

You turn back to clean up your work, but your head snaps up when you hear Matt fall against the door.

“Are you okay?” You blurt as Matt pushes himself upright on the door.

“I misjudged the space between myself and the door.” He chuckles. “Can’t see anything with the lights out.”

“Leave.”

You turn your back on Matt and his snickering.

“I don’t know how you put up with him.” You say once he’s gone and Foggy rolls his eyes in similar exasperation.

“I’ve learned to stop questioning my life choices when it comes to Matt.”

You laugh, humming in agreement. You lift your gaze to hand Foggy the collected papers across the desk and find his eyes already on you.

Before you can contemplate why his eyes take their time traveling down your face to your outstretched hand, the his easy smile lowers into contemplation once he accepts the papers. He licks his lips and begins scribbling down notes with fervor. Now that the essential information has been found, you’re left with nothing else to do but leave it in the capable hands of the brilliant lawyer before you.

Before you realize it, you’re in a candlelight-induced trance, watching Foggy’s eagle sharp gaze flit back and forth. A small, petty part of you wishes his eyes held the same concentration on you instead of the paperwork. You knew from experience how nice it was to have Foggy’s attention on you.

Meeting Foggy Nelson was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a rainstorm. He had come into your life with undeniable presence and charm, which mostly stemmed from how Foggy was unapologetically himself in all contexts. He didn’t put on the airs of the egotistical disposition that many lawyers were known to have.

That’s not to say he didn’t speak up whenever he found himself in an immoral situation,  but more often than not, Foggy reserved his speeches for retelling the repertoire of stories he loved to share with those who spared him an ear. You, always a listener at heart, and therefore his dedicated audience, were usually in hysterics by the end of his theatrics.

Foggy never just told a story. No, he incorporated gestures, voices and facial expressions that brought the characters - real or not - to life. Karen and Matt had heard every story ten times over, but being the newest addition to the friend group, you took in every detail as if there was going to be an exam.

It was his larger-than-life personality that drew you in, but it was his quiet observations that captivated you. Foggy never used his social prowess to embarrass others - Karen and Matt excluded - only ever making himself the butt of jokes. If he teased you, it was only to tease you out of your shell. His questions were genuine and his gaze, reading your body language and expressions, hung on to every answer you offered him.

The first real conversation you had with him, he asked you about your background.

“So what gods - sorry, Matt, God - above orchestrated for you to be doomed with us as friends?” He asked, curiosity making his sincerity clear.

You told him your abridged life story - including the small role you felt you played, despite it being your own life. Foggy’s smile had waned into a wrinkled line and when you finished he looked at you as if you had just admitted to being from another planet.

“You are the sweetest person I know, with a beautiful heart, and I don’t think you know it. But the rest of us sure do.” His eyes sought yours long enough to ensure you believed his sincerity, then he quickly moved on to throw a jibe at Matt,, and the conversation returned it’s levity. You, however, were left reeling from his compliment.

And absolutely in love.

Doomed, more like. You muse, halting the trip down memory lane before you fell down the well-trodden path of self-doubt and hatred. You have been around long enough to hear stories of the women Foggy had dated, slept with, or fantasized about being with. You didn’t think you made the cut. You had no reason to. Foggy was an extraordinary friend but that didn’t qualify you to wish he did more than friendly things to you.

You focus back in where your eyes had taken the opportunity to stare at Foggy fingering the edges of documents while twirling a pen in his other hand. He settles the pen between his soft, pink lips, tapping it before he bites the cap, completed focused on the phrasing of his task.

A hair falls between his eyes, causing him to wrinkle his nose into an unbearably cute expression.

You send the chair stumbling backwards when you stand, and that focused gaze flies to you.

“I…um..I am…What time is it? I think we should start to head over.” You attempt to clarify.

Foggy removes the writing utensil from his teeth as his eyes analyze your abrupt movement. You feel exposed the longer he stares and start to grow nervous he somehow could hear your wayward thoughts about the dexterity of his fingers.

“Yeah…good call.” Foggy clears his throat. He stands up to gather his things and you step forward to help him.

Handing him a file, his fingers brush the back of your knuckles and your eyes flutter in response.

Cheeks warm despite the cold, you turn from Foggy and set about blowing out all the candles until you’re both left in the dark.

You walk to the door and rest your hand on the doorknob. Turning your wrist, you pull the doorknob out the socket.

Wait.

What?

You glance down at your hand.

“What the hell?” A sense of dread fills you.

“What’s wrong?” Foggy asks, immediately reacting to your alarmed tone.

When you don’t respond, he navigates his way around the desk and chairs in the dark to come to your aid.

You turn back to the door and stare at the vacant hole with consternation until you feel Foggy’s chest brush your left shoulder.

“What happened?”

The weight of the doorknob feels condemning in your palm. Foggy leans down, squinting through the dark. His cheek is inches from yours, his height enshrouding you as he peers at your hands, and any other time your heart would be beating out of your chest.

Well, it was, but for the wrong reason.

“Oh.” He says. “Shit.”

“I have no idea!” You insist before he can even turn his grave expression on you and ask. “I guess the other side of it came loose and just fell off.”

“Well. That’s just fantastic.” Foggy hooks his index in the hole and tugs hard. The door jiggles with his attempts but holds fast.

“So we’re locked in our own office?” you conclude.

Foggy growls in frustration. He stalks back over to the desk, muttering curses to himself.

“Perfect. Just perfect. Of course…worst day of my life…”

Foggy pats his waist down, pulls out his phone, and then hits the first speed dial button.

“Hey, Matt.” He says sharply. “…Yeah, the fucking handle fell off the door.”   

Morose, you glance down at the knob still in your palm.

“No, I don’t- Y/N turned the knob and it just fell off!….Yeah, I already did that.”

Foggy sighs, hums in affirmation before his shoulders drop.

“You sure? Yeah…ugh…fine yeah, okay.”

Matt must have asked for the new evidence Foggy was supposed to bring, you assume, as Foggy proceeds to explain the needed information and confirm Matt understood it all.

“Good luck, buddy. Don’t lose.”

Foggy hangs up, ceasing his pacing. His hand runs through his now tangled locks then drops to his waist. He looks at you with resignation.

“Matt says he can handle the case by himself. It’s not a full blown hearing so…he’ll come back as soon as he can. The case has already started so he doesn’t have time to run back here.”

“Oh.” The prickling sensation of tears burns behind your eyes. The last thing you want is to ever be the cause of Foggy’s stress. Hell, you spend most of your time trying to be as valuable to him as possible.

Foggy searches around him until he finds matches. He lights the nearest candle and then sits down behind his desk.

He frowns once he sees you haven’t moved from your tense stance near the entrance.

“Hey.”

Your eyes flit to his face and find Foggy smiling at you with his recognizable optimism. The kind of smile that feels like he’s sharing a secret joke with you. He drags your previous chair around the desk, beside his.

“C’mere and sit back down. We have at least three hours before Matt returns.”

You hum in assent, still clutching the doorknob as you make your way over.

Coming around the desk, Foggy’s hand darts out, shielding your hip from the sharp corner when you almost don’t clear it.

You jump at his fingers against your waist. Foggy jerks back just as quickly, his grimace apparent.

“Sorry! I didn’t want you to run into it. That corner in particular bruises like a bitch.”

You laugh, hoping the airy chuckle doesn’t betray how his fingertips ignited a reaction far from displeased within you.

“I appreciate it. And I assume you’re speaking from experience?” You sit down. Your knee brushes his, tingling with proximity. You’ve never had a reason to sit so close to Foggy before, even in the booths at bars, and without the light, you sense more than see his presence within your personal space.

Foggy snorts. “Yeah, of course. Matt does it all the time.”

“Oh, so you have practice holding his waist too?” You don’t know where this brazen energy arises from, but you blame it on the intimacy of being secluded in the office with Foggy and your only light source being a small flame that smells of cinnamon.

Foggy’s lips split before curving into a smirk. He narrows his eyes.

“Are you accusing me of making a grab at you?”

You shake your head frantically.    “No! Sorry, that was stupid. I-“

Foggy laughs, waving your apology away.

“I would hope you think more highly of me to at least buy you dinner first.” He reasons, pursing his mouth into an easy smile.

You bite your lip, eyes widening at the suggestion. Was he serious? Or were you letting your feelings cloud an obvious joke?

“Of course I think highly of you, Foggy.” You say, settling into the chair. You set the doorknob on the desk. Your brow furrows as it reminds you of how Foggy was trapped here with you instead of at the courthouse winning the case he’s worked so hard on.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Seriously, don’t feel bad about the door. This whole shitty place is falling apart.” Foggy gestures vaguely around him. Foggy must have mistaken your silence as guilt. He’s correct in assuming so, but why did he have to read you so damn well?

“No, I know…I just feel bad for you because you deserve to be in that courtroom.”

“Ah, don’t sweat it. Matt’s got it handled. I’m sure they prefer the handsome lawyer down there anyways. Case will go in our favor that way.” He chuckles.

“Handsome?” You frown, not getting the punchline.

His eyes flicker over your face as if to gage how serious you are being.

Foggy shrugs. “Out of the two of us, Matt’s the better lawyer, both in the legal department and looks department.” His half-hearted laugh fails to win you over.

“That isn’t- that’s not true.” You stumble over your words, because it would be foolish to deny the attention the brunet lawyer garners on a consistent basis. However, you weren’t about to accept Matt’s good looks at the cost of denying Foggy’s attractive features either.

Foggy snorts. He shakes his head, hair brushing his shoulders as he does so and you’re overcome with an intense need to make him realize just how important he is to everyone. To you.

“Foggy, you’re incredible to watch in action.”

Foggy’s frown is near comical with his exaggerated pout. You lean in, determined to convince him.

“Foggy, you’re a hell of a good lawyer, too. If Matt is so talented then he wouldn’t partner with someone who wasn’t on his level. The two of you have your own firm. Matt’s not your boss. He’s your equal. That goes for the ‘looks’ department as well. You’re an attractive, generous, compassionate lawyer and it’s a privilege to work with you.”

Foggy’s expression is unreadable as he listens to you rant. His eyes search your face, flitting back and forth with thoughts known only to him. His brow falters slightly and you fear he’s uncomfortable with your impromptu speech.

But eventually, that full mouth of his turns upwards.

Unfortunately, the smile he wears accompanies a glimmer in his eye that makes you lean back into your own chair.

Foggy follows you, invading your breathing space with the heady scent of his aftershave and a hint of shampoo akin to vanilla.   

“What other traits do I possess?”

All at once you realize how revealing your compliments are. Blooming crimson, you attempt a verbal retreat that Foggy has no intention of allowing.

“Oh, um…I didn’t-I just mean…”

“C’mon, tell me! Attorney client privilege.” Foggy winks, his grin upheld and only growing bolder as he rests his cheek on his fist, full attention on you now.

Well, you did wish for that.

“Technically, to be your client I would need to pay you first.” You throw out, if only to prolong the inevitable corner of confession he was backing you into.

“Aha! So you do learn a thing or two around this office. I’ll only charge you five bucks.” Foggy retorts easily enough.

“I don’t have money on me, but since you’ve been known to accept fruit baskets, would you accept other forms of payment?”

“What do you have in mind?” Foggy’s grin is downright devious.

Your eyes widen as you effectively have backed yourself into the corner you were trying to avoid.

A nervous laugh bubbles from your racing heart as you shake your head, waving your hand too for good measure.

“Nothing! I’m kidding, Foggy.”

“Blood money? Was it blood money?”

“No?…No, it was a stupid joke.”

“Tell me.” Foggy sits up, his demeanor becoming serious.

“Please?” He whispers.

You chew on your lower lip, trying to swallow down the thundering of your heart as silence permeates the dimly lit atmosphere between you two.

Maybe it’s the influence of the warm fire painting Foggy’s gaze in such a soft, accepting light, as if he already knows what you’re thinking - or is even feeling it too. Maybe it’s the months of holding back the truth from someone you would tell anything to in a heartbeat. Maybe it’s the hope that ultimately outweighs the anxiety that causes you to admit it.

No longer do the candles, blizzard, or darkness feel like a hindrance. Now they feel intimate, cozy, and warm.

Romantic.

“I was gonna say…something super corny like, “just my undying affection.” You feel like an idiot, grimacing with the confession.

Your eyes dare to check Foggy’s expression, knowing he’s probably gonna reel back in aversion.

Instead, Foggy scoffs, shaking his head slightly. “You’re affection? Jeez, now that’s nowhere near corny.” He purses his lips and his hair brushes his cheek as he shakes his head.

“Earning your attention, let alone your affection - damn, I would win a hundred cases for you, guaranteed!”

You want to blame the playful words as an excuse to ignore the sincerity in his tone, but your body reacts before you can, heart leaping with a thrill of joy and your lips begging for more.

“Guaranteed?”

“Nothing drives a man like his unwavering passion for the woman he adores.”

You must look crazed, in the throes of shock as your brain tries to process the meaning behind his words. Foggy adores you? Really?

Your mouth continues to take the lead.

“You mean that?”

Foggy lifts his hand in the distance between you, which is scarce, and hesitates a second before placing his warm hand atop both your hands picking at each other’s fingertips. The weight of his palm and the comfort of his grip squeezes your fretting hands still. You release a soft exhale.

“Y/n, I’ve never been more serious.    I’ve adored every detail of yours since you graced my office.”

You don’t know what to say, so you nod.

You keep nodding until it dawns that your feelings are reciprocated, perhaps more than you dared hope for.

And then you’re smiling, beaming, and still nodding, as Foggy brings the hand up from your grasp and cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb over in a silent hello before he presses his lips to your mouth.

You press in, feeling him wholly as mint overwhelms your senses. Your lips move with his, chin lifting as you chase his mouth and he meets you once more, applying pressure before he withdraws, and releases your bottom lip from his teeth.

You can’t see much in the dark anyways, but right now you can’t see a thing. Only spots that accompany the ringing in your ears. You might be light-headed too.

Your dazed silence breaks when Foggy’s whisper begins to escalate.

“Before I have a heart attack…tell me I didn’t screw this up. If I read it wrong and you were just joking-“

“No, no! It’s just…I can’t believe you like me back.” Your laugh is a soft exhale before a sharp intake of breath.

“This isn’t some ‘lights go out and we’re vulnerable in the dark confession.” Foggy says as he cups your face once more.

“I mean every word I say in the dark.” He kisses you again and you welcome his eager affection before he pulls back. You open your eyes just in time for the lights flicker on with a stumbling hum as the building regains power.

“And the light.” Foggy tacks on to his previous statement.

You snort, biting your lip in vain to stop your giddy smile.

“That was pretty fucking cool timing if you ask me.” He says, the same elated grin on his flushed visage.

“That was, I’ll admit.” You laugh. You run your tongue across your lips, savoring the taste of his kiss.

“I wish someone could have witnessed it.” Foggy continues to rave, basking in your growing smile of amusement.

“I did.”

Matt stands in the doorway with a wicked grin.

“Missing something?” He asks. Your eyes flit down to his hand.

The other side of the doorknob.

Matt waltzes over to the desk, grabs the doorknob, then returns to the entry and slides it back into place.

Your frown deepens when he unpockets a screw. Within ten seconds the door is fixed with a good rattle to test it out.

“Lucky thing the case got canceled. You guys would have been stuck in this room all night.” Matt says, passing you both on his way to his office. Presumably to start the next caseload.

Foggy breaks first, swiveling in his chair to jab a finger at Matt’s retreating back.

“You bastard!”

Matt spins around once he’s behind the door of his office. He gives ample time to leave his smirk on display as he closes the door in a slow, dramatic fashion until it clicks with finality.

And with it, a realization of his strange behavior today.

You gasp.

Matt never left the building.

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 9

Oh wow, a new chapter? Who'd have thunk it.

My posting schedule is all off and I honestly don't know if I can get it back under control. I have no idea when I'll get time to sit down and write and when inspiration will strike, so I can't assure weekly updates. But I'll try my hardest to get this story out! I have future chapters written, it's just that I have no way of connecting them right now :/ Oops.

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Ah shit, here we go again. Angst, arguments, jealousy

Word Count: 2,250

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6][Part 7][Part 8]

Some moments are easier than others. Sometimes you feel like you’re not pining like a love-sick teenager enough to think that you can actually do this – you can actually be friends with the man you love.

But then there are moments like tonight.

A few weeks have passed since community get-together, and you and Bucky are the new kids in town. Everyone drops by to say hello, leave you with enough food to last the winter, and invite you both back to their homes for dinner. It’s all very sweet, and you would appreciate the hospitality in any other situation.

But the amount of mothers trying to marry their daughters off to Bucky is insane. 

Several have not-so-subtley seated Bucky next to daughters of marriageable age, while everyone else is silently discouraged from interrupting their conversations. It skeezes you out when the girls are barely out of their teens, but most of the girls are around your age or older. Morality-wise, that’s a whole lot more appropriate. Internal monologue-wise, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh doesn’t even begin to cover it. What you feel whenever he laughs at something they say, or looks at them with his intense blue eyes – it hurts. That’s how he used to look at you, once upon a time. Like his life wouldn’t be the same without you in it, like you’re one of the most important people in his world.

To be fair to Bucky, you probably read waaaay more into it than he ever meant. And you only ever really saw that look come out when you were straddling his waist and grinding hard on his cock, skin mottled with his teeth marks and wearing his metal hand as a necklace. 

Stop, stop, stop, stop!

Anyway,

You’re usually placed next to older, widowed relatives, as most of the young men in the town have already settled down and popped out a few kids with their spouses except for Petre. Tessa foists the two of you together at every possible opportunity, hoping you’ll hit it off and decide to get married in the near future. 

Petre is nice, smart, cute, but not really your type. You’re convinced that you’ve only ever had one type and he’s off-limits. But Petre’s company is much more enjoyable than the sad, lonely older men they try to pair you with – it never feels great to be compared to someone’s long lost love – so you don’t mind having someone around your age to talk during these things.

Speaking of.

“It’s a nice night, yeah?” Petre comments. The night is warmer than expected, but you and Petre are still bundled up in your coats as you stroll through the dead copse of trees near the latest dinner party. The sun had set only minutes ago and the stars are making their presence known. There’s next to no light pollution in this area, so you always take the time to admire the night sky when you have the chance. 

You often take walks with Bucky up and down your street as a way to decompress after your shifts at the HYDRA facility. After the first week or so of being everyone’s errand-runner, they’ve slowly built up your workload to include calculations and deductions based on redacted data – it’s not as much information as you’d like, but it’s enough to build a foundational understanding of what the experiment was about.

You hum in agreement and continue walking. It’s about time to turn around and head back, but you can’t bring yourself to return only to watch Bucky flirt with the pretty girls that were also invited.  

“Is something the matter?” Petre asks you.

You startle out of your petty, jealous thoughts. “Hm? Oh, no. Nothing’s wrong,” you reply with a smile.

“It’s just that you seem very distracted tonight,” he responds.

With your hands in your pocket, the only thing you can do is shrug your shoulders. “Just tired, is all. It’s been a long week at the office.”

“Ah, I know the feeling,” Petre commiserates. 

All of the sudden, a wailing, piercing shriek ricochets between the tree trunks and reverberates in your ears. Tensing with adrenaline, you take two steps forward, ready to intervene in whatever events are unfolding in the darkness.

Before you get much further, Petre reaches out and takes hold of your elbow. Turning you around, he starts leading the way back. You try to tug your arm from his grip, but he holds firm.

“The cry of a vixen who is looking to mate. They’re rather vicious creatures this time of year, foxes. We don’t want to get in her way,” Petre deters.

“But…” you begin, looking back over your shoulders and watching for unexpected movement among the swaying branches. “It sounds so real.”

“Terrifying, really. I was just as concerned when they began, as well.” Petre gives you a tight smile and relaxes his grip slightly when you stop trying to pull away.

“What do you mean?” you question.

“What?” Petre’s eyes flash around quickly, looking through the woods that surround you.

“‘When they began’. What do you mean by that?”

“Ah,” Petre replies. “When mating season began.”

There’s no more discussion on the eerily accurate sound of a woman in distress. You can only trust that Petre would know the local fauna and their habits better than you, since you’ve never spent an extended period of time in areas such as this.

***

The neighbor’s house finally comes into view. A lone figure stands silhouetted against the porch as they lean against the railings, their arms braced against the banister and posture rigid. When you get closer, you realize that the figure is Bucky. 

You can’t see his face, but you can feel his eyes on you. And apparently Petre can as well.

“He doesn’t like me?” Petre asks.

“Why do you say that?” The question puzzles you because Bucky has no reason to dislike Petre. He’s been incredibly helpful so far, allowing you to ask as many questions as you want about himself and others and he doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. In fact, you feel as if you and Petre have become friends.

“It just seems like he’s never happy to see me.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that – James just has RBF,” you reply nonchalantly.

“RBF?” Petre replies.

You laugh as you and Petre climb the stairs, only now realizing that he still has a hand on your arm. You’d forgotten all about it, but you miss the slight warmth that permeated through your jacket when he removes his touch. You turn to look at him, but Petre is looking away, his hands now deep in his pockets. Turning your focus onto Bucky, you see him watching Petre, his eyes squinted.

A large smile returns to your face as you reach up and grab Bucky’s chin, squishing his cheeks and making his lips pucker from the pressure. “This –” you say triumphantly, “is an RBF.”

Bucky glares down at you and swats your hand away. You cackle at the perfect example of Resting Bitch Face™ in front of you, throwing your head back in joy. When you right your posture again, you can see a small smile on Bucky’s face as he laughs along with you.

“Whatever,” he murmurs. He shakes his head in exasperation before circling his arm around your shoulders. Bucky begins dragging you back down the steps you had just ascended and you grunt in protest. “It’s time to go,” he says simply.

“Ugh, you’re so rude,” you say to him. Craning your neck as much as possible, you look back towards Petre who remains on the porch. “I’ll see you later!” you call backwards with a wave. Petre raises a hand in return, face hidden in shadow as Bucky’s had been.

Focusing back on the road in front of you, you can practically feel what little mirth Bucky had drains away. Looking up, you notice that his jaw is clenched and a hard look has entered his eye.

“What’s wrong?” Now you’re worried that something happened to Bucky while you were gone that has put him in a bad mood. Did someone say something to him? Did one of the women reject his advances? You can’t see who in their right mind would turn him down, but not everyone feels the same way about him as you do. But if it’s the latter, the guilt you feel only slightly outweighs the relief.

“You don’t think you’re spendin’ too much time with him?” Bucky says between clenched teeth.

A frown appears between your eyebrows as you continue to look up at him. “No?” you respond. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Ofcoursehedoesn’t,” Bucky mutters under his breath, but you can still hear him.

You slide out from under Bucky’s hold, his agitation sparking flames of your own. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You don’t think you’re leadin’ him on a bit, Y/N?” Bucky asks you.

You scoff. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“You’re always hangin’ around him!” Bucky quips back. “You’re flirting with him and walking out of parties together. All these people, Petre included, are going to think you’re pitching for an engagement.”

The hurt and pitiful feelings from earlier tonight come flooding back. Only this time, instead of feeling them for what they are, you combine them with the anger his comment brings. How dare he accuse you of leading Petre on? As if he isn’t doing the same thing to all those girls?!

“And what about you?!” you yell, the last word ripping its way between your lips and setting your tongue ablaze. “You don’t think you’re stringing all these girls along behind you? You don’t have any intention of getting into a relationship with any of them, either, do you?” 

As the words escape, you remember how Bucky sat you down and asked for a friends-with-benefits situation. Said he wasn’t ready for a real relationship, but tired of one night stands. How the two of you could help each other out since you weren’t seeing anyone either. The old resentment towards yourself and how you let yourself fall for someone wholly unavailable whiplashes back into your mind after months of repressing it. 

If he could ask that of you, does that mean he’s asked someone else? You usually arrive home later than him, but on some occasions that you are released early, he’s not there. Instead of asking where he’s been, you had just let it slide since it could have been construed as possessiveness. Like your feelings – that Bucky believes to be long gone – entitle you to his life. You hadn’t wanted to risk anything at the time, but now your mind can’t help running wild at the possibilities.

“It’s not like I’m screwing his brains out every time we’re gone!” You shout at Bucky. You had been walking down the road away from the house party which was on a street with few homes, so there’s nobody around to hear your fight. “We’re not in the bathrooms having quickies, he’s not fucking me against a wall, or bending me over his motorcycle! He hasn’t proposed we fuck around with each other until someone better comes along!” 

Your chest heaves with the effort of expelling these vicious words from deep within your heart, and you can feel a burning beginning to creep behind your eyes. You hate getting angry – hate that any strong emotion makes your eyes well with tears and makes you look weak. And in this situation, you are weak – weak against Bucky, weak against yourself, weak against the knowledge that the one man you’ve ever loved never felt the same way and never will. Your inability to keep yourself from falling for someone you knew you could never have? Your jealousy that he is probably sleeping with one or more of the women in town? That makes you weak. 

And you can’t stand to be weak in front of Bucky again.

“Newsflash, Buck: I know how it feels to be lead on by you and it fucking sucks!” You lower your voice slightly and take another step away from him. “I know that wasn’t your intention, and I didn’t feel that way at first, but that’s how I feel now.”

“You were my best friend, Y/N – I didn’t want to lose that!” Bucky exclaims. “And I genuinely thought we were on the same page!” He takes a deep breath and clasps his hands over his eyes before saying, “And seeing you run off with Petre all the time just reminds me of us – how we’d always sneak away to get some time alone. It’s just –” He drops his hands and sighs heavily, looking up at the star-studded sky and then back down to you. “I’m jealous.”

“You’re jealous?” You ask incredulously. “Why?”

“Because –” You can tell that he’s struggling to get this out, and if he hadn’t started this argument and accused you of wronging Petre, you might have been more receptive to what he’s saying. More understanding. But right now, your anger swallows all empathy and hope that his words would usually supply. “Because that could have been us,” he breathes. Bucky takes a tentative step in your direction, but freezes solid at the icy glare you send his way.

“No,” you say flatly, “No, it couldn’t have. You made that abundantly clear when I asked.”

You turn your back on him and start running, ignoring the sound of your name as you leave Bucky behind.

Part 10

Taglist: @jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewifeife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshinee @happinessinthebeingg @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

[fushipurro]

Red Lights Red Flags

Chapter 2 - Marigold

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☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, f!reader, ronin!toji, courtesan!reader, jjk historical au, mentions of death/assault, forced prostitution, fluff, pet names, past trauma, angst, hurt/comfort

☆ Word Count: 1.6k

Winter had come and settled in fast, marking yet another month you’ve lived as a courtesan.

Snow piled in the streets and the number of guests that come by have lessened as many decide it best to stick to the comfort of their own homes instead of the arms of a prostitute. Putting your debt aside, you’re content with the calm, only hoping it doesn’t turn to a proverbial storm.

The light of dawn reflects beautifully off the falling snow with iridescent tones, a sight you share with Toji at your side. He’s become a regular client of yours, nearly every night if he’s able. He hasn’t pushed your boundaries, nor forced himself on you which to some may come off as disinterest, but not when we’re dealing with Toji. It’s the opposite really, it just shows the respect he has for you.

“Hey Toji?” He hums in response. “Has the lake frozen over yet? The one by the big plum tree in the park?”

He glances at you from the side with a raised brow. “Yeah,” he pauses for a moment, “Bunch of kids already running the place.”

“Good, I’m glad.” You smile, and he turns his head to you in full as if waiting for something more. “My family used to take us there many years ago…” You raise a pickled plum up from the dish to your mouth, savoring the taste. “…I miss those times.”

Toji returns his gaze to the window, looking beyond the snow-kissed rooftops to a destination unknown.

“Yeah.”

With the arrival of a new season, Hanami has decided to dedicate today to having the brothel cleaned top to bottom, all hands on deck (save for her prized flowers, as always).

The Peony herself is still very much annoyed with you, but with a Zenin as your client more often than not, it’s given you some wiggle room in avoiding her wrath. There’s also a rumor that she’s found a new “toy” to play with that’s been keeping her occupied. That’s a good thing, right?

Your day so far has been filled with nothing but washing what feels like every robe this building contains. Fabric after fabric of the most well-designed pieces, some worth more than the debt your father’s accumulated. A voice calls out to you by name from a woman in blue, “Whenever you have a moment, Shion’s requested to see you.”

Shion?

The Aster herself?

To say you’re surprised is putting it lightly. Fear inevitably bubbles up like stomach bile as you remember the last time a high-ranked flower requested your presence. At least it’s not Botan this time around, but you know next to nothing about Shion.

“I’ll be there soon!” you tell the woman who promptly takes her leave. You know better than you keep someone of the Aster’s status waiting, so you quickly work to finish the task at hand.

Similar to the Peony Room, the Aster Room’s doors are painted with many blue and white flowers to match her color scheme. You kneel before the doors, announcing yourself.

“Enter,” she replies, with an elegant tone in her voice. When you peel the doors back, you’re met with an equally elegant, mature woman resting by the windows at her bedside. “Come, sit closer to me.”

In the sunlight, her hair is revealed as a blue so pale, it’s almost like ice on a frozen river. A piebald crow is perched on the windowsill, paying no mind to your movements to sit before the woman.

The other courtesans don’t talk about Shion as often, only noting her outward beauty and skill as a courtesan. There are also some deeper rumors that say she’s a witch of some sorts. Nevertheless, she maintains a high status, even compared to the likes of Botan.

She turns to address you in full, eyeing you up with sharp, purplish eyes. Each look she spares feels akin to talons tearing away any façade you may be attempting to hold.

She hums, “Yes, I can see what the fuss has been about lately with you.”

“I’m sorry for bringing you trouble, Shion.” You bow, expecting her to be upset in favor of her near equal.

“Trouble? Nonsense.” she snickers, and you raise your head up in shock. “You’ve made this place much more interesting to me in recent times.”

Now you’re completely thrown off and confused. “You’re not upset with me?”

“Not in the slightest.” Shion reaches forward, cupping your chin with delicate fingers. She leans forward, all while the crow behind her hops to the side. “In fact, I’m glad someone can give Botan a much-needed reality check. It’s for her own good, and yours as well.”

“I don’t wish to offend, but I’m not understanding what you mean…”

She releases her hold on your face. “Don’t stress over it, all that matters is that you found someone special in your short time being here. I wish to help cultivate that.”

Your brain is working overtime in trying to comprehend what’s going on. Everything she’s saying is like a riddle to you, or maybe these are just the magic words of a supposed witch.

“I wish to claim you for my garden,” she says with a confident look, but those words leave your mouth agape at the meaning.

In this specific brothel, gardens are what refers to those chosen by high-ranking courtesans to act as their lady-in-waitings while continuing their work. The difference is that it earns you the nickname of a flower, boosting your significance while also granting special inclusions.

“Are you sure you wish to pick someone like me? There must be better–"

“Don’t sell yourself short now,” she interrupts. “You have a bright future ahead of you, and it’s my duty to make that happen. It’s in both of our best interests for you to accept.”

You lower your head into a bow once more. “I humbly accept your invitation, Shion.”

“You’ve made a wise decision, my little Marigold.”

She brings her hand down upon the crown of your head, softly caressing your hair as a distant memory flashes through your mind of your own mother doing this for you. A few stray tears fall from your eyes onto the tatami, treasuring the newfound acceptance.

“Be proud of yourself, and soon you’ll shine like gold. I promise you that.”

“Thank you, Shion.” You sniffle, raising your eyes to her with a gleeful smile.

The crow caws, stretching its wings before taking flight to the heavens above, leaving behind a two-colored feather on the wooden frame.

The following night, business was up and running like normal. Guests arrive intermittently should the weather allow, and you spend your time at first idling with your new chores for Shion. You were expecting Toji to have arrived already to save you from any other possible client, but so far he hasn’t come by.

You feel a tap on your shoulders, drawing you out of your reverie. “Shion is requesting your assistance.”

Your heart sinks, but the night is early so maybe he’ll come by later. When you arrive at the Aster Room, you’re wearing the new kimono prepared to you by Shion. This one is brightly colored compared to the dull, tattered robes you wore before. The fabric adorned with marigolds colored after the sun, befitting of your new imagery title.

On normal occasions, you would be wearing blue to separate you from Shion’s status, but she’s requested you wear this piece handpicked by her own self. She even spent the time perfecting your hair and makeup in a similar style of her own, and you’ve never felt more beautiful.

“I knew this robe would be perfect for you, my little Marigold.” She smiles softly, like a proud mother. You admire yourself in the mirror, but you can’t help but wonder what Toji would say if he could see you now. “Are you falling in love?” Shion abruptly asks, as if reading your mind is another one of her unique talents.

Her question has you blushing. “L-love? I uh.. I-I mean he’s really kind…”

“Is that all?” She chuckles, and you hide your face behind your hands. “Are you sure it’s not something more?”

Even if it was, would Toji feel the same? It’s one thing to make you feel safe and respected or the time he takes to ensure you’re eating and sleeping properly, but falling in love this fast? There are still so many unknowns.

You ponder her words throughout the night as she entertains her clientele. She’s left you in charge of setting the mood with your musical talents, the peaceful serenade of the Koto becoming a symbol for you.

As the night comes to an end with the light of dawn soon approaching, Toji still hasn’t made his arrival, and you can’t help but worry. That fear turns to something more, like poison brewing in your stomach when you hear some passing gossip.

“I heard they were splayed out all over the place with their heads cleanly removed.”

“That’s brutal… hope they catch the guy before there’s a fifth victim.”

“Who knows, rumor has it it’s that one Zenin. Ya know, the one with the scar?”

“Oh yeah, that monster of a son? I’m sure he’ll get off easy from his status alone.”

You stop dead in your tracks, paralyzed and feeling unable to breathe. With wide eyes, you stare at the men leaving the establishment. It takes everything in you to get your legs moving again before you’re rushing to your new private room. Once inside, you collapse to the ground with trembling limbs.

There’s little doubt that they aren’t referring to Toji, and you wonder if this is why he skipped his visit tonight. Trouble’s brewing, and you know it, but you’re powerless to do anything about it so long as you’re confined to this brothel.

Please be safe, Toji.

☆ Notes: originally I thought of shion as mei mei but..... ew, let's leave that for the plot. there's some hidden details too with asters and marigolds some of you might pick up on, and some deeper tones with marigolds reflecting y/n's character and life. i love flower language.

☆ Taglist: @fandomtrash5092 @catmania-choco

[dreamii-yume]

(Pretends that I haven’t been gone for over 8 months)

It is time to eat! 🗣🔥 I have returned! …And what did I miss? 🫡 Not much? Okay, that’s good lol

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Toge Inumaki (Jujutsu Kaisen)

♥︎ Warnings ♥︎ Yandere | Non-Con/Dub-Con | Referring to Inumaki by His Last Name | Usage of “Senpai” Because I Don’t Know How to Translate Honorifics | Aged-Up Characters | Hurt/(No)Comfort | But It Ended Up Hurting Anyways | Female-Insert Reader | Cheating | NTR | Corruption Kink | A Subtle From of Mindbreak(?) | AU Where Shibuya Incident Never Happened | Reader is kinda menhera herself tbh

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

“I’m sorry for not being there to accompany you with your mission, Inumaki-senpai.” Gentle hands ran down his somewhat swollen cheek, before the cold, yet delicate texture of a gauze replaces it and eases the sting. “Dr. Ieiri needed me for something, and it was a priority mission, so…”

“Salmon Roe.” Toge Inumaki replied, almost immediately—Holding out his hand to cut you off as if he already knew that you were about to go on a tangent. For the inexperienced, conversation without words are something of an impossible feat, but for the years that he was mentoring you, Inumaki has gotten confident of your understanding skills. It’s kind of learning process that most of his friends developed overtime, so he’s never worried that both of you would have some form of miscommunication anytime soon.

With that said, you sighed in relief at his innocent gesture. “…Alright, then please allow me to at least use my curse technique on you.” You suggested, but the moment Inumaki felt your cursed energy spiked in an incredible amount, he knew he didn’t have a choice anyway. Not only because it was your job, but he never planned to refuse your technique if you give him a chance to experience it. Just from this close distance alone, he could practically melt at the feeling—Like a warm fire in a winter night, gently embracing his body in a comforting manner.

“…Salmon.”

Rejuvenation as they call it…An innate cursed technique that you’ve developed while you were studying with him at Jujutsu Tokyo High. It’s not much when it comes to combat, since its only special feature is, as the name suggest, rejuvenation—The power to replenish the user’s body of lost cursed energy, and ultimately cutting back whatever physical consequences of the user’s cursed technique is. It was a shame that by Jujutsu regulations, it was considered a “cursed” technique like everyone else’s when in truth, it can very well be compared to a blessing in disguise for people like him.

Call it a senior’s pride or something like that, but Inumaki thoroughly believed that you’ve naturally developed a technique that he can greatly appreciate because he was the one who raised you better as a sorcerer than your own teacher ever did.

To think that you were but an ordinary civilian when you came in here felt like a fever dream. No relations to curses, sorcerers, or anything—Just a rare case of a normal person possessing a higher cursed energy than most people that they were able to see curses from a very young age. You were a chick fresh out of the egg when you arrived, an outsider to the world of Jujutsu, and Inumaki back then just found himself teaching you on a whim.

He loves watching you use your curse technique a lot more than he could ever admit—The control you have on your breathing, heart rate, and flow of curse energy was spectacular. You always make sure that you won’t hurt yourself in the process by giving too much, but at the same time, you knew exactly how much a current person needs for a complete rejuvenation. His favorite part had always been when you’re done, the way your eyes would snap back into your normal cheerful self after being in a trance like nothing happened. It never fails to make him smile.

”…Well, do you feel a lot better? Is there anything else I could help you with?” Your voice quickly got Inumaki back on high alert as he was in a trance himself. He just couldn’t help it sometimes; he could feel your cursed energy flowing in him in just the right amount that it was way too comfortable to just ignore.

Inumaki tilts his neck in a snap, feeling a satisfying crack from each side before giving you a thumbs up. “Pollock Roe.” He said with confidence to mask the embarrassment he feels inside. He would never say it straight to your face, but as someone who receives this treatment from you a lot, it’s not much of an exaggeration to say that he was addicted to the feeling. He’s a bit…sensitive on how you will react to this information, so he’ll keep it to himself for now.

“Well, that’s great then~!” You said, as he felt your observant eyes on him again—Constantly looking for any injury you might’ve missed, but your work was as flawless as ever. “At this point, please just get plenty of rest as always. If you notice anything else that feels wrong, please refer to Dr. Ieiri as soon as possible.”

Inumaki couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the way you speak during work mode, it’s professional but it just wasn’t the normal cheeky junior he knew. So, with a mischievous look on his face, Inumaki pulled on your cheek slightly with judging eyes. “Mustard Leaf~?” He teased as you flinched at the contact.

“Ow, ow!” You exclaimed, yelping like a kicked animal until Inumaki let go eventually. In an instant, you pouted and rubbed on your slightly reddened cheek. “W-What was that for, seriously…!?”

Inumaki only pointed at you nonchalantly with two fingers. “Tuna, Tuna.” He stuck out his tongue which only puts an irritated vein on your forehead—But somehow, you knew what he was trying to say.

Instead of snapping like how you originally planned, you sighed. “I know, I know…” You said, eventually smiling in defeat. “But it’s work, you know? I have to be prim and proper when it comes to work.”

Inumaki hummed, eyes glancing to the side as if he hadn’t learned his lessons at all—In fact, he just wanted to catch your attention, that’s all. “…And you should be careful around your own work too!” Then came in you scolding him in the end. “Please stop rupturing your vocal cords every time you go on missions! I am not treating you next time, do you hear!?”

“Salmon Roe~” He heard what you said, but it was like the words go through one ear and escaped to the other—He didn’t have any intention of listening to your advice at all. If rupturing his vocal cords was the minimum requirement to come visit you again, then so be it…Besides, he knows you’re lying anyways. He just can’t see you refusing service to anyone who’s in need of help, what more of it if it was him?

“Ugh, why do I feel like you’re not taking me seriously at all…?” You grumbled under your breath but ending up shaking your head anyways. Eventually though, you smiled in a silly manner, just what Inumaki was hoping for. “No, whatever…Just have a good day, Senpai.”

Hearing that, Inumaki finally gave you his famous close-eyed smile to show his excitement. “Salmon~!” He replied enthusiastically after seeing that familiar attitude of yours for the day and quickly pat your head. You giggled as he hopped off the bed, raising his hand slightly to wave at you as he headed out for the door. “…Kelp.”

With one last smile, you waved back at him before going back to your desk, probably checking for the mission you’re assigned to next.

Honestly, for someone who came from humble beginnings, you were making quite the name for yourself as a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world. Non-combatant cursed techniques are rare as it is, and for someone to have one that defies the very definition of a curse and turning it into something of a blessing—It’s no wonder you are highly valued by the higher-ups. It’s hard to imagine that just a few years ago, you were someone relatively unknown and though you did had some help from the teachers like all other students, you still had to teach yourself on how to differentiate between what is a curse and what is not.

Regardless, Inumaki can freely shrug about it now—He was glad you developed a technique that was beneficial to him, and that’s all it matters. You were good friends, on top of being senior and junior back in school, so your relationship with him was undoubtedly better than the rest. Maybe he’s a bit boastful about it, because who wouldn’t want to come home from a long and exhausting mission, only to lay down and be doted on by your cursed technique?

The feeling of a sore throat has been something of a wild fantasy to him ever since you mastered your craft, so what else was there to complain about?

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Hornii?

This Sinfic was in one of my WIPs folder (Yes, I have a folder full of unfinished Sinfics and ideas ☠️ I’m a loser) and I had to travel back to the memory lane on what kind of plot I was trying to cook 8 months ago 😭

I think my goal was to write a  Sinfic is that proves that dialogue is not at all needed when it comes to fucked-up love ♥︎

[99hook]

What if HOOK and Y/N are friends and they get snowed in at a cabin or hotel and they can’t leave. Then the power goes out from the storm and he has to keep her warm when it gets too cold without electricity 🥺

i hope you enjoy it babes!

———

You had to turn the volume up several times just to hear the movie you were watching thanks to the heavy winds kicking it up a couple notches outside.

Through the window you could see thick snow starting to pile higher on the ground, so much so that it was reaching the top of the tires on Tyler’s car parked out front.

Just as soon as you were about to nudge his shoulder and point it out to him, pitch darkness suddenly surrounded you.

Silence filled the living room for a couple moments before you heard him sigh. You could barely see his silhouette in the darkness but you felt his eyes on you. He shifted around a bit before a golden flame illuminated his face.

“Guess we should light some candles.” He says as he holds the lighter out and gets up from the couch. “Did you see any around here earlier?”

You got off the couch and walked around the coffee table, doing your best to focus your eyes in the pitch dark, but you heard him say, “Here” from behind you.

You turned around and reached a hand out, grabbing an extended lighter and sparking the flame. You then set out to find some candles and thankfully came across some in one of the bathrooms, decorated all around the bathtub.

You grabbed four, assuming it would be enough and brought them back into the living room where Tyler was still searching the same spot as if they were going to miraculously appear on the shelves.

“Found some” You said, placing them down on the table and lighting them. It served very little use but it was at least illuminating the small section of the couch that the two of you were sitting on.

You settled back down against the cushions and clutched a blanket under your chin. It was already starting to feel a lot colder without the heat running through the vents.

It was awkwardly silent for a couple moments before Tyler spoke again, only when he looked over and saw the blanket covering the lower half of your face.

“Are you cold?” He asks, scanning the living room and finding more blankets folded up in a basket in the corner. He gets up to grab them, unfolding them and draping one over your legs while he keeps the other one for himself.

“I hope the power comes back on soon. We were getting to the good part of that movie.” He chuckles.

“I thought you said you’ve seen it a hundred times.” You teased. The golden glow of the candlelight put a sparkle in his eyes when he looked at you.

“But you haven’t.” He pointed out.

It was then that he looked out the window and saw his car nearly submerged in the snow. His head fell back against the cushions with another sigh.

“I was gonna say we could go sit in my car if it gets too cold in here but it looks like it’s buried.”

“Yeah, It’s okay. It’s- it’s not that cold.”

He heard the trembling of your voice and looked over at you again, this time with a bit of concern that you could see even in the dimly lit candlelight.

“Are you still cold?” He asks, and even though you shake your head he can practically see you shaking underneath the blankets.

“Here” He says, giving you his blanket.

“No, keep it. I’m fine, just anemic.” You tried to laugh it off, but the chill in the air was getting worse by the minute and the snowstorm didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.

“I’m good. This is nothing compared to New York in the winter.” He says, draping his blanket over the others laying on top of you.

You eyed him for a moment to make sure, but he showed no signs of being cold, which made you wonder if he was just conditioned from growing up up north or if you were just wimpy for being spoiled with warm weather nearly all year round back home.

“How long do you think this storms gonna last?” You asked.

He shrugged as he turned his attention back out the window. “No idea, but we might as well get used to it for now, cause it doesn’t look like it’s letting up at all.”

You curled up under the blankets and tried to keep the warmth stored enough to not shiver, but it wasn’t easy.

After about an hour and a half, it felt like all the heat in that house was gone.

“I feel like we’re stuck inside an igloo.” You said, cupping your hands over your mouth to store warm breaths.

Tyler chuckled, his arms crossed over his chest but he still didn’t seem nearly as cold as you were. Either that or he was just way better at hiding it.

“Igloo is a little dramatic. It’s cold, but not that cold.” He said, lolling his head to the side to shoot you a pointed look.

“It’s actually freezing.”

“I mean, it’s only gonna get colder until the power comes back on, so maybe-“ but he trails off when he’s about to finish that sentence.

“Maybe…?” You tried to encourage him.

“Maybe we should get under the blankets together. Body heat, y’know?”

You blinked twice, unsure if you heard him right.

“It doesn’t have to be weird. We just need to stay warm and it’s only gonna get colder in here.” He shrugs. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

You didn’t think about it long before you nodded at him, unwrapping the blankets from around you and holding them up, allowing him to move closer and get underneath them with you.

He looked like he was a bit surprised that you agreed. He moved slow at first, until you said, “Hurry up, I’m losing heat.”

You noticed his lips tipping up in a smile as he got under the blankets with you. You slid over to allow him some room and the couch being as narrow as it was made it difficult for the two of you, so he wrapped one arm around your shoulders and guided you down to his chest.

You laid on top of him, and immediately realized how warm he was. Your legs tangled up under the blankets and he wrapped his other arm around you, holding you as close as he could to keep you as warm as possible.

“Better?” He asks with a satisfied smirk. Glancing up, even in the diminishing light, you swore you saw a shade of pink dust his cheeks.

“Mhm” You nuzzled your face into his hoodie, realizing how much you liked the scent of his cologne embedded in the fabric.

He could hear the sleepiness in your voice and looked down to see your eyes fluttering. He leaned up slightly and blew the candles out before he laid back down.

You peered your eyes open to the pitch darkness but the sound of his soft breathing was already pulling you closer to sleep.

You felt his fingers lightly twirling the ends of your hair, something he probably did subconsciously.

“Thanks for being my personal heater.” You mumbled, feeling his chest rise and fall with a slight chuckle before his arms tightened around you.

“Anytime.”