#bonus if there is a 'ooh there's something moving under my skin' and then they like cut it out and it is bugs

[raiynesummers]

PLS

i need more books like house of hollow and wilder girls, like i love the fucked up forest, people rotting, this deadly but grotesquely beautiful nature and stuff like i EAT IT UP. the more disturbing the better lol. if you have any suggestions PLS tell me, thank youuuu

[dokifluffs]

Lookie | Bokuto Kōtarō

Pairing: Bokuto X Reader (female) ft. Kuroo, Kenma, and Akaashi 

Genre: fluffyyy, surprise domestic

Author’s Note: I WANNA BE Y/N 

gif from @rivaillerose​

“Kenma, you gotta hurry or else you’re gonna get blown away,” Kuroo called as he paused, the bitter frozen winter wind blowing right into his face

He tightened his grip around the bag in his hand while Kenma shuffled through the inches high snow, not a single big of his face showing as he hid himself in his bundled layers to keep warm

The two walked through the blizzard with Kuroo walking behind Kenma, walking toward the house

With a brief knock on the door, the door opened to Akaashi as he stood there

“Where’s Kenma?” He asked  

“Here,” Kuroo raised his arm, revealing Kenma at his side, facing into Kuroo’s body to stay as warm as possible

The two entered and stripped their layers and boots, letting the warmth envelope the two of them completely

“Thanks for bringing chips,” Akaashi said as he took the bag from Kuroo

“No problem. Are Bokuto and Y/N running late again?” Kuroo asked as he noted the silence in the house

“Actually no, they got here a few hours ago. They’re on the couch.”

And with that, the three of them made their way to the living room of Akaashi’s house, for the  occasional movie night and sleepover

The three walked in on Bokuto as comfy in his regular spot on the couch, a warm blanket nu, smiley as ever but quieter than normal and with his face looking down into his sweater

“What’re you doing?”

“And where’s Y/N?” Kenma spoke as he quite enjoyed your company yet you were nowhere to be found

“Shhh,” Bokuto shushed them almost louder than the two cats spoke

He was giddy and he seemed like he was about to explode from excitement or something but he couldn’t

“Lookie!” He happily waved the two over as he pulled his collar

“Huh?” Kuroo confused as ever

The two hesitated as they just looked to Akaashi

“Just trust him,” Akaashi commented from the side, smiling himself at his best friends

The two leaned forward and their questions had been answered

There you were, fast asleep against Bokuto’s bare chest inside his sweater, cuddled close beneath the blanket too

It was like there were stars forming in Bokuto’s eyes as he adorned you in the position you were in

“She looks so comfy,” Kenma said quietly, a tinge of envy in his voice as he was still freezing cold from the journey here

“She actually has a bit of a fever-“

“But she can’t go home in his weather or she’ll get even worse and I didn’t want her to be alone while we were all watching a movie, so she’s here with me,” Bokuto cut off Akaashi but spoke every word with his chest as he squeezed you closer to him

“Alright then,” Kuroo said quietly, only for Bokuto to dramatically shush him once again

“Don’t wake my little bean,” the ace practically whisper yelled to Kuroo

“I didn’t even- fine,” he gave up as he grabbed a blanket and found his seat

For the rest of the night, Bokuto could hardly focus on the movie

His heart did flips every time he looked into his shirt and there you were, your cheek squished against his warm skin, your lips jutted out just a bit so it looked like you were pouting

Your hair and breath tickled his chest and stomach but he didn’t mind it a single bit

The others could hear and feel the bubbliness emanating from his persona throughout the entire movies

The little laugh he would give when you moved a little or when he played with your hair or booped your face

His occasional movement, that you had gotten used to sleeping on him, to reposition himself

But also how quiet he was whenever a jump scare popped up

He was always the first one to yell or leave the room but not tonight

He couldn’t focus

How could he when you were right there and you were fast asleep on him

You were his precious little bean and he wanted to make sure you got all the rest you needed to make a speedy recovery

But oh all the times he had to refrain himself with smothering you with his kisses

He just wanted you to shower you with all the love in his big heart for you

He wrapped his arms and legs around you, not wanting to let you go even for a millisecond tonight

Domestic bonus: 

The popcorn popped in the microwave as the paper brown bag expanded and expanded, always making you nervous that one day you would open it and it would just explode into your face 

but you just watched as the bag expanded 

you could hear subtle noises coming from the living room but before you could look, the final beep of the microwave sounded off in the kitchen 

“Hot, hot, hot.” You barely held onto the hot bag with your fingertips as you juggled it to prevent burning yourself 

You poured the bag into a large bowl, bringing it to your living room 

and that’s when your heart melted 

“Peek-a-boo!” your husband lifted the collar of his shirt, his face disappearing as he called, the living room erupting with laughter from your daughter as she giggled contently 

“Where’d she go?” He “closed” the collar of his baggy tank top, teasing her as your little girl hid herself under his shirt, hiding her face into his chest 

“Here she is!” he opened his collar again, more laughter ans squeals erupting from both of them as he pulled her out, sitting her in his lap, playing with her, giving her butterfly kisses as her small hands reached out to cup his face 

“She’s swo cwute,” he turned to you, his cheeks being squished by his daughter. “Ooh! Popcown!” 

Both their eyes lit up as they turned to you, Kotaro lifting his baby girl in his arms as he made his way over to your side 

Though only you and Kotaro ate the popcorn while your baby girl played with his clean hand, the occasional giggle coming from her as he tickled her 

but to be honest, the two of you could barely pay attention to the tv when you two had your little girl

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

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[luv-leni]

Vampire!Cravity with a human s/o

Authors Note: Hey guys so listen the inspiration for this one hit me like a semi-truck. Which means this one is long(especially minhee’s) I mean like 2k words long. I’m very sorry 😭 please let me know if having this all be one reaction kills your eyes and I’ll edit it and split it into two separate posts.

Warnings: blood, dark themes, suggestive in minhee’s part if u squint, violence, death, and overall angst. There is fluff in here too I promise. This is all fiction!

Enjoy!!

Reaction under the cut.

Serim

A gentleman but a gentleman in a high position

He probably works for a big company

He wasn’t turned too long ago so his age isn’t a problem

He has literally no clue what he’s gonna do when his age does become a problem

Anyway this businessman is very friendly

He is charming and acts like he’s got nothing to hide

U meet him outside of his workplace maybe in a coffee shop

He’s dressed to the nines and super cute so u can’t help but stare at him

Of course he notices so he offers to pay for your drink

Correction he insists on paying for ur drink

This sparks a conversation, mainly about why he’s out in public in a three-piece suit

He talks about his work and meetings and stuff u aren’t really interested in

Before u can completely lose interest tho, his eyes capture ur attention

They almost look like they’re glowing

U interrupt him to ask about his eyes and he shifts uncomfortably and brushes it off

U being perceptive notice that maybe this well put together businessman isn’t all that he seems

He on the other hand thinks u are amazing for a human and he is attracted to u very quickly

look at you heart-stealer 😉

U two start dating for completely different reasons, u want to see the skeletons in his closet and he is falling helplessly in love with u

While snooping through his personality and life u find urself starting to fall for him too

Soon his secret won’t even matter to u

Serim is very good at keeping his secret so u aren’t going to find out unless he wants u to

So whether u find out about it or not is up to him

But he is a great boyfriend so u can’t complain

Allen

Ancient vamp

Allen would be the vampire who’s been around for like 400 years

When u meet he’s reluctant to be friendly with u

He’s old enough to have seen all the people he loves leave him

So he doesn’t want to get hurt :(

It would take some persistence from u but he’d eventually warm up to you

You’d fall in love with him and all his cool vampire features

His cold skin and glowing eyes

And he falls for u hard

He’s soft to u through the whole relationship because he doesn’t want u to think he’s dangerous

Even though out of all the boys Allen might be one of the more dangerous vampires

One thing is for sure he will protect u fiercely from anyone or anything

Jungmo

Jungmo lives as if he was still human

He’s been alive(well as alive as a vampire can get) for long enough to know what he’s doing but not long enough to lose his innocence

He still loves human activities

He exercises even though he doesn't need it and eats the foods he loves even though he doesn't need to eat

He goes to the park and plays with dogs

He meets u while playing fetch with a German shepherd

U just think he’s a normal guy who is very active

When u find out he’s a vampire u don’t really believe him

And then u see his fangs

He suddenly becomes much more intimidating

He does his best to reassure u he’s still the same guy u fell in love with he just drinks blood sometimes

now u get why he volunteers at the blood bank so much

Woobin

Sweet boy

Ruby blends into society very well as a vampire

He hangs out at coffee shops and bookstores he probably even works at one

U meet him there and he is an amazing gentleman

He doesn’t want u to know he’s a vampire because u are so cute and sweet and doesn’t want to scare u

he also doesn't want to confront the fact that he is going to live forever and u won't :(

But then u find bags of blood in his freezer

When u confront him about it he is so gentle and sweet that u really aren’t that freaked out

And he shows u his cool vamp powers and promises to never hurt u

A better love story than twilight

Wonjin

Flirt flirt flirt

He thinks if he’s gonna live forever he is gonna make it worth it

So he flirts with anybody and everybody

But when he meets u

He notices that u make him feel different than everybody else

Ur different, special

U make his undead heart race and he becomes addicted to u

He still flirts with u but he does it differently

He means everything he says about u

When u agree to date him he feels alive for the first time in a while

When u find out he’s a vamp the world gets 10x more exciting

U get a boyfriend who’s basically invincible and has cool powers

Jinnie is so relieved that u aren’t scared he wraps u in a big hug and picks u up with his vampire strength

A super exciting relationship with a very exciting boy

Minhee

Ooh mysterious~

Minhee is barely noticeable in everyday life

He rarely goes out during the day and works somewhere private so he doesn’t have to meet many people

When he does go out he blends into the shadows and is so sneaky that he could get away with almost anything if he wanted to

It’s lonely but he prefers it that way

He wouldn’t talk to u unless he absolutely had to

So maybe he works in a private office and u get hired as his assistant

He doesn’t want an assistant but being a big strong vampire doesn’t mean he can do everything by himself

Ur first day u notice how closed off and dark he is

But u are determined to be his friend

As time goes on minhee becomes intrigued by how determined u are (bonus points if ur good at being his assistant)

All the tension that has been building between u two comes to a head when u confront him in his office and ask him why he’s so cold to everyone

He gets this intimidating look in his eyes and says “people aren’t worth my time anymore” or something dramatic like that

You get upset because like?? Ur obviously worth his time 🙄

So to prove it u kiss him

He’s surprised but he wants it as much as u do so he doesn’t push u away

He thinks that maybe just maybe ur the one human he can let his guard down for

Then u guys make out on his desk

Hyeongjun

I think being a vampire would dull hyeongjun a bit

He used to be this cheerful happy boy but living forever can really take a toll

So he’s a little shyer and a little quieter as he moves through daily life

He never stays in one place too long because he doesn’t want anyone to suspect him

So he doesn’t have friends or partners for very long

Then he meets u

Ur kind and friendly and u remind him of who he used to be

So he immediately becomes ur friend

Something about u is different compared to the people he usually meets it’s like he’s drawn to u

Hyeongjun comes to trust u very quickly and ends up telling u his secret himself

U don’t believe him because vampires?? real?? uh huh sure.

Hyeongjun still has the same personality deep inside so he has to show off to u so he picks up ur couch with one hand to prove he’s telling the truth

Ur rightfully shocked and he is visibly nervous

He wants u to accept him so u think over all the good memories you’ve had with him while he stares at u with wide eyes

U love him so eventually u decide to accept him and keep his secret and he couldn’t be more grateful

U accepting him definitely bring out more of his cheerful personality

U two probably move away from the city into the countryside where no one can find u

It’s peaceful and beautiful and u get to spend the rest of ur life with the one u love

Taeyoung

That last one was so sad let’s move on to the cheerful stuff

Tae is a helpful boy!

He’s gonna live forever so he’s like ‘might as well make the world a better place since I’m gonna be here forever'

He volunteers literally everywhere

He does community service and works at nursing homes

The type to go around and pay for people’s parking meters in his free time

Like jungmo he volunteers at blood banks to get his blood because he doesn’t want to hurt anybody

He does all of this under fake names that he changes every once in a while so that way no one questions why somebody who should be like 90 looks 18

He meets u while helping out at an animal shelter

U come in looking for an animal to adopt

(If u don’t like animals then u come in looking for work)

Tae helps u out with the cutest smile on his face

He’s so cute that u ask him for his number

He agrees and everything goes smoothly for u two for a while

Once ur further in the relationship tho, tae’s secret starts to eat at him

He loves u and thinks u deserve to know the truth and he hates hiding things from u

So, like hyeongjun, he tells u his secret

He does it sweetly and holds ur hand so u don’t freak out

Accept this boy and his secret and he will treat u like a queen

He doesn’t like using his vampire powers but if it makes u happy then he will

He will keep u happy for the rest of ur life if u let him

Seongmin

My babysitters a vampire incarnate

He’s a baby vampire who got turned while in high school

He can’t really control himself so he stays away from people as best he can

U see him while in class and in the hallways and u think the poor boy is just shy

He doesn’t sit with anybody during class and eats lunch alone

U find him one day outside the school eating lunch and ask to sit with him

He hesitantly agrees and u notice how cute he is

U talk to him for a while and he isn’t very responsive or talkative so u ask him why he sits alone so much

Ur expecting usual answers like maybe he doesn’t have any friends maybe people make him nervous but no

He says that he has a secret 👀

Now ur interested so u ask him what it is

He says he's a vampire and ur like damn the cute boy is crazy this sucks :((

But then he offers to prove it so u say sure and he

Has fangs???

Those must be fake right??

U lean forward and touch them and prick ur finger on one

Nope they’re real and now ur bleeding 😃

Seongmin’s eyes go wide and he scoots away from u while u search ur bag for a bandaid

When the awkwardness subsides and seongmin stops looking at u like ur dinner, u start talking about this very unique situation

He tells u that he’s literally been starving since he was first turned and needs blood badly

And u just so happen to volunteer at a hospital

So u offer to get him blood if he promises to not eat u..he agrees obviously

And that marks the start of ur very strange high school relationship

Despite how strange he can be he truly loves u and takes care of u throughout school

U two are now inseparable

[mmvalentine]

Lockdown Lovers, pt 5 | Feysand

Modern pandemic AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4. Smut abounds.

Rhys padded to his room with Feyre's body in his arms and her tongue in his mouth. Luckily, the apartment was so small, there wasn't much to navigate between the couch and his bed, and very soon, he was pressing Feyre down against his rumpled sheets.

Feyre kissed him, but then scooted back against the headboard. Her lips were kiss-reddened and swollen, but her blue-gray eyes sparkled with mischief.

"I've never been in here," she said, her voice husky. His cock throbbed at the sound of it. "You haven't?" Feyre shook her head. "Always kind of wanted to though." She tilted her head curiously at him.

Rhys scratched at the back of his head, wondering whether to indulge her, or to just grab her ankles and pull her back down to him. Eventually, he gestured an invitation. With an inward sigh.

Feyre grinned, and slid out of bed. Rhys sat down on the end, and watched her walk around the room. Gods, she was still naked from the waist up.

Feyre walked slowly, taking in the black chest of drawers and stack of books sitting on it, work desk with computer off and papers strewn over the top, and the shelves on the far wall that appeared to hold the rest of his miscellaneous belongings.

The latter she stepped up to, and peered over with her fingers on the bottom shelf. "Is it okay if I look?" she asked. Rhys shrugged his consent. Honestly. What was he not going to let her do while she was shirtless in his bedroom? He watched her ass as she tip-toed up to examine the objects, and when she bounced on the balls of her feet, he found himself crossing the room to get his hands back on her skin.

"What's this?" Feyre giggled, as Rhys's fingers dragged over her stomach. She held up a small stuffed bear. Rhys moved his lips over her shoulder. "That was a present from my mother, before she died," he said. "Oh." Feyre regarded the item with new reverence. She placed it carefully back where she found it. "How old were you?" "Eight," Rhys said, pulling her hips back against him. "I'm sorry," Feyre said. She picked up an old but expensive looking watch. "And this?" Rhys smirked into her neck. "That I pinched off Cassian while he was drunk. Back before the lockdown, of course. He's still looking for it, turned the house upside down. Nes is ready to kill him." Feyre laughed. She set the watch back too, and then picked up a couple of cologne bottles, sniffing each one. "Ooh, I like this one," she said. Rhys inhaled at the base of her throat. "I think you smell better than anything in the world."

He replaced his nose with his lips, and then his hand slid in between her legs. Over the layers of fabric, he could feel the heat of her. Feyre forgot the bottles, finally, and leaned back into him. Rhys rubbed his hand over her again, and she turned her head to kiss him.

With his teeth on her lip, Rhys dipped his fingers down the front of her absurd little shorts, brushed down the seam of her. Feyre moaned, and all he knew was that he wanted her to make those sounds for him forever. He stroked gently up and down, until his fingers were slick and it was her own wetness that was guiding him into the core of her.

Feyre's legs buckled, and Rhys bent to catch her under the knees and sweep her up into his arms. He carried her back to the bed, and this time, she was going to stay there.

Indeed he was getting no argument from Feyre, who had wrapped her legs around him and was lifting her hips to grind against him. The feel of her soft, bare breasts against Rhys' chest, and her eager writhing beneath him had Rhys on fire. He moved his lips from her mouth, to her jaw, to her nipples. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to her ribs, down her stomach, and over her hip bones. Then slid a hand under her knee, lifted her leg, and bit gently into the soft part at the top of her inner thigh. Feyre bit her lip and bucked her hips off the bed, and Rhys had her shorts pulled off in one fluid motion.

He laid her back down and kissed where he had just bitten, then repeated the action on the other side. Goosebumps rippled down her legs, and he could feel the laboured rise and fall of her chest as her breathing stumbled. Then he placed his mouth over the damp fabric of her underwear, and sucked her clit through it.

Feyre cried out, and he was rewarded with the feeling of her getting even more wet on his tongue. He licked her roughly a couple of times, and then pulled her underwear off. Then his too.

Rhys knelt by the foot of the bed, and pulled Feyre toward him so her feet dangled off the edge. He smoothed his hands from her knees to her hips, and then settled his hands over her stomach before dragging his tongue up her centre and around her clit.

Feyre clutched at his hair, and moaned his name. The sound of it had him grabbing himself, stroking slowly even as he flicked his tongue rapidly over her.

"Fuck Rhys, holy- gods- fuck," she ground out. Rhys let go of his cock, and slid a finger into her instead. Her moans became higher, more breathy, as he added a finger and kept his tongue going at a frantic pace.

"Rhys, stop, I'm going to..." But the words faltered, and Feyre rocked against him in silent ecstasy. Yeah, there was no way in hell he was stopping now. Not a minute later Feyre broke against his tongue, and then she was pulling him up toward her so she could get her mouth on his.

Rhys pulled away to find a condom in his bedside drawer, and Feyre took the opportunity to wrap her hand around him. She didn't start slow, but went straight into the same rhythm he had been using on her moments earlier. For a second, Rhys just gripped the wood of the table top, all thoughts deserting his mind. Then he dragged his focus back to the drawer, and sat back on his heels to put the condom on.

Feyre watched him with hungry eyes, and as soon as he was over her again, she licked up the column of his throat. Rhys shuddered, and the twitch of his cock tapped against her. He kissed her deeply, then pulled back long enough to say,

"Is this okay? Is this what you want?"

Feyre responded by using her legs to pull his hips to hers.

"Holy gods yes," she said. And that was more than enough agreement for Rhys.

Rhys pushed into her slowly, and the sensation that skittered between them had them both groaning. He paused, and let Feyre adjust. Then he pushed in a little more. A little more. A little more.

Feyre was perfect. She was warm and tight and absolutely delicious. Some distant part of him marvelled that this was actually, finally happening, and that after a month of torture, he was at last inside of her.

Rhys began a lazy rocking, just savouring the exquisite feel of her. Her nipples grazed his chest and when he put his mouth on hers, the sensation intensified. He got faster, Feyre's legs tight around him and pulling him in more. The thought of her wanting him drove him wild.

"Rhys," she murmured. "Rhys." His name, breathless on his lips, almost pushed him over the edge. But first...

Rhys pulled out of her, and flipped her over onto her stomach. He pulled Feyre's hips up to him, and pushed into her from behind. She propped herself up on her hands, but when he reached around to toy with her clit while he fucked into her, her arms gave and she slid onto her forearms. Deepening the angle even further.

From this vantage point, Feyre looked incredible. He sped up, and Feyre got louder. The sight of her on all fours like this was surely something Rhys would have burned into his brain forever.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he told her. "Just.. fucking..."

He was so close. But he was going to make her come again first.

Rhys moved his arm to pull Feyre up against him. Her head rested against his shoulder, and from this position he had much better reach round the front of her. To make use of his idle fingers.

Feyre came, the force of it throwing her back down onto her hands and knees. Rhys had wanted to keep fucking her until the waves had subsided, but he broke apart before she had stilled, putting his forehead on her sweat-slicked back and holding onto her hips as his own climax wrung him out.

Exhausted, they collapsed together. Rhys dropped the condom into a nearby bin, and then rolled into her back to spoon her.

"Well," she said thickly. "That is one benefit of being stuck with me for so long." Rhys listened to her heart beat slowing down in her ribcage.

"Honestly?" he said against her skin. "I hope you never leave."

A slow smile spread over Feyre's lovely features, and then sleep stole silently over them like snow. ****

We made it kids! Thank you so much to those of you who stuck it out with me for all five parts, I cannot tell you how amazing it has been to come home and read the notes. And I am sad to leave this little world.

So should we go again?! Please send me comments, asks, prompts... messages are morgan-treats.

TAGLIST: @artemisausten @ghostlyrose2

UPDATE- Thanks to a certain anonymous asker, there is now a bonus scene for your reading pleasure x

[skullrock]

the movie - Steve x Reader

pairing: Steve x Reader

prompt: hi! can you write a steve x reader fic where they’re having a movie night with robin cause they’re all best friends but robin ends up leaving early cause she had something to do so it’s just reader and steve and they start cuddling, reader keeps moving herself to try and get comfortable and doesnt realize she’s grinding against steve and he’s super flustered and hard and: smut happens. thank you! (bonus points if it’s super slow and sensual)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: smut n swearin’

a/n: sorry this took so long but I hope you enjoy!

===

Robin yawns loudly, then looks at her watch. “I think it’s time for me to head out.”

“What?!” you and Steve ask in unison.

“The movie just started,” you stress. “And Winona is in it – I know how much you like Winona!”

“Sorry,” she says, getting up with her jacket and shrugging it on. “The last two movies have been a blast, though.”

As Robin goes to leave, she gives Steve a subtle wink and he rolls his eyes. You and Steve had been dating for a while but had never really gotten much alone time – Robin dips out to give you both some space.

You say your goodbyes and then it’s silence, except for the television.

“We don’t have to keep watching,” you say. “You can go home.”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, I – I like Winona, too.”

You nod, smiling happily, and scoot closer to him. Steve blushes, but you don’t see it – it’s a little too dim right now, anyway. Your hand reaches for his and you wrap your fingers together, leaning slightly into him. The position gets uncomfortable quickly, however.

“Steve?” you ask timidly.

He hums in response.

“Can we – lay down?”

Steve swallows hard, blood rushing to his cheeks. “Yeah, th- that would fine.”

You both lay down, Steve wrapping an arm tightly around you, the other going underneath. You enjoy the feeling of his warmth on your back, smelling his cologne and detergent. You’re stiff for a few minutes before relaxing into him – you’d never cuddled like this before. It’s nice and you feel safe, as does Steve, and he really needs that.

But he feels something else when you try to shift.

You adjust yourself, feeling your shirt riding up and bunching underneath you. Then you adjust another time because you can’t get comfortable. Then your shirt rides up again.

Steve is trying to act nonchalant, but the feeling of you virtually grinding into him was making him strain against his jeans. It was uncomfortable and quite painful; he tries to adjust himself, but ends up just grinding on you, making your breath hitch. Steve clears his throat nervously, hoping you couldn’t feel him – but you definitelydid. Smiling to yourself, you press tighter into him, and he lets out a strangled moan.

“You like that?” you ask quietly. You try to sound confident, but you’re truly nervous. Your throat feels dry and your body feels hot.

“I’m sorry,” he groans, embarrassed.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “I like it.”

Steve swallows hard again, tightening his grip around you. He presses his pelvis up against your ass once more and you moan lightly. Steve reaches his hand up to cup a breast, and you bite your lip. He rolls his thumb over the fabric and his lips attach to your neck. You moan and press yourself into him and he moans back.

“Shouldn’t you be watching the movie?” he teases, lips tracing your jaw while he props himself up on his elbow to reach.

“Shouldn’t you?”

“I’m watchin’ something else.”

“Ooh, smooth talker.”

Steve rests his head on yours, giggling, and you giggle back. He surprises you by slipping a hand under your shirt and you moan as it fondles you.

“Hand is cold,” you quip.

“I’ll just warm it up here.” He stills his hand and smirks against your neck, kissing more.

“Bastard.”

“Is this the worst thing I could do to you?”

“Probably.”

He smiles again, then flips you onto your back. Your pupils are blown and hair a mess. He thinks you’re beautiful like this.

“Hey,” he says nervously. “Are you okay with this?”

“I’ve wanted to have you for a long time, Stevie boy,” you say, smiling. He crinkles his nose at the name, but you continue. “Please keep going.”

His lips meet yours quickly as he straddles you. His hands reach up into your shirt and you gasp and the cold and the sensation, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. Kissing Steve makes you feel lightheaded and unbalanced, and you thank the stars that you’re laying down for this. His hands work softly and slowly under the cotton, enjoying how smooth your skin feels on his fingertips. He takes in every inch of you, trying to memorize it. His lips slip to your neck again and they kiss and suck. He listens to your gasps and moans, memorizing the best spots.

You tug on his hair to get him to come back up to your lips, then work your way down his neck. He hisses at the contact and squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the feeling of your lips on his neck. You kiss and lick, smiling as he slowly loses it. Your hands run up his shirt and you tug it off of him, gasping slightly as your eyes drink in his chest.

“My eyes are up here,” he jokes, and you roll yours. You sit up and take off your shirt, and now he gasps.

“Uh, my eyes are up here,” you mock, and he pushes you back down gently, kissing down your chest. Your eyes roll back as he kisses across your breasts, finally going and taking a perked nipple into his mouth. You hiss and he grins cockily.

“You like that, baby?” he asks against your skin.

“Don’t call me that,” you beg, but he gently nips your skin and you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Okay, doll,” he says, then laughs, as if it’s funny.

“I could walk away,” you remind. You snake a hand down to his bulge and he hisses, burying his head into your skin. You smile. “Don’t want that, do you?”

Steve groans and pulls you up, chests pressing together as you kiss. You lose your balance, but his arms are around you, steading you.

“Bedroom?” he breathes.

“It’s here somewhere.”

He sighs and snakes his arm down to the waistband of your sweats. He slips his hand in and it finds your underwear, and he dips a finger under the fabric to feel how wet you are. You gasp at the contact, and he smirks. “I could walk away.”

Quickly, you push past him to the bedroom. He follows you closely, seemingly hypnotized as he watches you. You turn around and twirl him so that the back of his knees are against the bed and he lowers himself down. You straddle him and he swears he died and went to heaven while you kiss him, grinding yourself into him. You slip off after a moment and reach down to his waistband, looking at him for approval. He nods curtly. Your lips meet his again as you slowly unbutton him. His hips buck as you undo his fly, and he lifts his hips off the bed to let you take his jeans off. You rub him through his briefs as he moans into your mouth.

“Wanna see you,” he whispers against your lips. His hands go to your sweats again and you nod. He takes them off slowly, letting the fabric tickle your skin as it runs down your legs. You step out of them and climb onto the bed. Steve crawls on top of you and his hips buck into yours a few times as he relishes in the contact.

“Steve,” you whisper. Your eyes meet and you smile softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. He leans into it, enjoying the softness. “You’re so handsome.”

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers back. “So beautiful, Y/N.”

You pull him down one last time and he slips your underwear off. A finger lightly rests at your opening and you moan, nodding to let him know it’s okay. He slips it in, and you choke on a gasp, head burying into the pillow behind you. Steve whimpers at how tight and wet you are, making eye contact the entire time. Watching you is the most sinful thing in the world, he reckons, and starts to pump in and out as you write underneath him.

Not wanting to neglect him, you push his underwear down with your feet. He goes to crack a joke but his cut off by the feeling of your warm hand on his length. He’s in bliss, eyes squeezing shut again as he continues his pace, and you start yours. You match speeds and it’s so hot, too hot, and the coil in your guts builds way too soon.

“Steve, please,” you whimper, and he’s not one to say no. You point him towards the bedside table, and he grabs a condom, ripping it with his teeth, winking at you with a smirk on his face. After putting it on, he lines up with you and his hand rests against your cheek, forehead on yours.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Steve pushes in slowly, both of you gasping. He settles into you and you groan, adjusting for a moment. Steve runs his thumb over your cheekbones, and you nestle your head into his touch. After a moment you nod, and he pulls out before thrusting back in.

It’s an electrifying feeling, making your stomach flip. Your eyes stay locked with his and his lips part slightly, a groan low in his throat. It’s soft and slow, and you can feel every part of him. His skin against yours, soft and warm; his heartbeat in his chest; his finger, still rubbing your cheekbones gingerly. You reach up and cup his face again and he sighs happily, a smile forming on his face. His hand leaves your face and you frown before feeling his fingers rubbing circles onto your clit, feeling just right. You let out a strangled moan and Steve does the same in response, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You okay?” he breathes.

“So okay,” you breathe. “You feel so good, Steve.”

Steve goes a bit faster now, but still slow enough that you can feel the roll of his hips. He presses open mouthed kisses to your neck, moaning all the while. You think his moan has to be the hottest sound alive, and you feel your stomach tighten.

You go to say that you’re close, you’re almost there, but what comes out is “I love you.”

Instead of stopping and leaving, he moans loudly. “I love you.”

Steve rests his forehead on yours again as you both reach your climaxes, spurred on by the confession. You both whisper it back and forth, louder and louder, until you both cum at the same time, kissing sloppily but slowly, happy to feel the other one. He rests his head on your chest and listens to your heartbeat as he catches his breath, and you play lazily with his hair.

“Did you mean it?” he pants. “Do you?”

“Of course,” you smile. “I love you, Steve.”

You feel him smile into your skin, and he turns it to place a kiss above your heart. “I love you, too.”

===

@harrington-ofhawkins @comedy-witch @harringtonisadingus @sassisaluxury @gothackedalready @willowrose99 @pxtrickhxckstettxr @wolfish-willow @harringtown @m-blasterrr​ @anerroroccurrrrred​ @marvels-gurl​ @the-almond-dinger​

[stomachflu]

Ooo, for c//ritical r//oll concept, something with sick Mollymauk? Maybe he's got a really bad stomach flu but is covering it super well with his usual showmanship. He's gotten used to taking care of himself and not showing weakness while on the road-- cant miss a performance for a lil bug. Pretends to be totally fine until he crashes, cue the rest of the m9 taking care of him? Bonus for belly rubs and drawn out nausea.

🚫don’t rb to non-sickfic/emeto/kink blogs, thanks!🚫

thank you so much for this really good prompt! i’ve been working on this for a REALLY LONG TIME but cr//itical r/-/oll has become one of my new fave interests so i enjoyed writing this a lot!

have over 5k of nausea buildup, multiple puking sessions, and caretaking!

(i only realized after writing this fic that not only does jester not have the cure illness spell, but it’s not even a spell in dnd 5e, and i’m thinking of a similar spell from my 3.5e campaign. whoops! there’s probably a lot more errors in here due to me being new to the show, so please be nice to me and ignore them! ^_^)

Molly certainly hadn't objected to taking shelter out of the storm, but the town was small, with only a few small rooms in their only inn, and not much in the way of entertainment, so by all means, he should've been more than happy to be moving on as soon as the rain passed.

The thing was, he had definitely picked up something in that weather. He'd spent most of the previous day huddled in blankets, trying to rid himself of the chills that racked his body. He was lucky that they'd had enough money for four rooms this time, luckier still that Beau and Jester were still insistent upon rooming together, and Caleb and Nott were stuck like glue, leaving him and Fjord with separate rooms. Molly had to make appearances at mealtimes, of course, but he'd put on a good show then, mustering up enough energy to entertain the room with simple tricks – disappearing coins and such.

Molly had hoped that it was just a momentary illness, that it would pass in time, but when he'd woken up burning with fever, he knew he was in it for the long haul. He felt terrible, hot and cold at the same time, aching down to his very bones. It hurt to swallow, but he needed energy if he was going to beat this, so he choked down breakfast as quickly as possible.

The sky was clear now, not a cloud in sight, and they needed to be moving on. The group didn't have time to waste on a cold – Molly was no use bedridden, and, besides, there was nothing that would cure him but time. Jester needed her spells, and it wasn't like he wouldn't have plenty of time to rest in the cart.

Once they jerked into motion, though, Molly quickly realized that he'd made a mistake. He had eaten breakfast with everyone else, and his stomach was not happy with that decision. He took deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to concentrate on something other than his suddenly-churning gut.

Probably motion sickness. Traveling had never made him ill before, but there was a first time for anything. If he had to guess, it probably had to do with how dizzy he was – having the world spin around him while he was jostled back and forth? That would make anyone queasy. What was it that people always said? Something about focusing on the horizon, but that just made him feel more queasy.

Fjord had the reigns, with Caleb keeping watch next to him, so Molly snuck a glance at the rest of the group – Nott and Beau in an animated conversation, Jester with her sketchbook – and risked placing a hand on his tender belly, rubbing it gently. He swallowed back a burp, grimacing as the pressure in his stomach only increased.

The sun was still high in the sky, and Molly needed a distraction from what was quickly becoming nausea, so he spread out his cards in front of him, shuffling through his deck.

"Ooh!" Jester exclaimed, bouncing into a sitting position across from him. "Do a reading for me, please?"

Despite himself, Molly smiled. With his view of the horizon blocked, he did feel a little better. Perhaps it was simply motion sickness after all.

"Alright, cut the deck for me – good. Now, two more times..."

--

Molly's momentary relief didn't last long. He did a reading for Jester, and then one for Beau. By the time Nott asked, he was certain his fever was up, sweat beading on his forehead, so he feigned exhaustion and put the cards away.

His stomach hurt. It was an on-and-off kind of pain, the cramps coming in intervals, leaving him shivering with chills each time. Maybe it's simply hunger, Molly thought, fishing out some strips of dried jerky out of his bag and gnawing on them absently. At any rate, he needed to eat to get over this illness, but putting food in his mouth, but swallowing it down just made him more nauseous.

He needed to throw up.

The thought struck Molly at the same. time that a wave of nausea washed over him, and he swallowed hard. Not right now, not this moment, but at some point in the near future, he was going to vomit.

The cart pulled off to the side of the road, jostling Molly's sick stomach and forcing a soft burp up his throat.

"Alright," Fjord said, hopping down from his position at the reins. "Short break to feed and water the horses, but 's about all I got in me. Anyone else wanna drive?" A beat in which nobody else answered, and he repeated, "Anyone...?"

"Fuck it, fine, I'll do it," Beau grumbled.

"If we are to be switching positions, is there anyone else who would like to take watch?" Caleb asked.

Molly slowly slid out of the cart, his hot, aching joints protesting every movement.

"I volunteer," he said. Maybe the fresh air would help. Already, he felt a bit better, standing in the open air like this.

That was settled, then. Fjord and Nott went about taking care of the horses, and the others took their time walking about, stretching or disappearing into the woods bordering either side of the road to relieve themselves.

Molly was glad for the thick cover of trees – the second he was out of sight of the cart, he clutched his belly with both hands, bending over at the waist. The pressure helped, but his stomach was still churning. He felt awful, knew that he needed to throw up now if he was going to keep up appearances.

Molly traipsed a little further into the underbrush, determined to keep out of earshot of the others, and... waited. He was nauseous, yes, but not nearly to the degree that he had been when he was sitting in the back of the cart.

Come on, puke already, he thought. Absentmindedly, he reached underneath his shirt to rub his stomach, the taut skin hot with fever under his palm. Almost immediately, a gurgling burp shot up his throat, and he leaned forward expectantly.

Saliva flooded into his mouth, and Molly spit onto the dirt, throat tightening in a gag. A sick belch brought up a thin mouthful of foamy bile, and he retched again and again as the liquid pattered onto the dirt.

He didn't bring anything else up, though he remained bent over at the waist. Molly knew he couldn't stay here forever – he was already pushing the limits of what the others would believe, had his excuse of needing privacy to relieve himself been true. Anyways, his stomach felt... not good, not even better, but he wasn't on the verge of puking anymore. Maybe he could make it 'till nightfall.

As he traipsed back towards the cart, he suddenly realized why nobody had gone looking for him, why his absence had gone unnoticed. Standing in a circle around Fjord and Nott were a group of bandits, weapons drawn. Molly was too far away to tell, but by their gestures, he would have bet that they were demanding the cart, and everything on it.

Sighing, he drew his swords. It was going to be a long day.

--

They made quick work of the bandits, dispatching their leader and sending the others running into the woods, pursued by a few of Nott's arrows. It had been a good thing that Molly hadn't asked Jester for a healing spell earlier, though, because Fjord had taken a heavy blow to the chest, and Jester used almost all of her spell slots healing him.

And so they were back on their way, with Molly perched at the front of the cart, acting as lookout. The crisp air was helping a bit – he felt less foggy, like his head wasn't quite so stuffed with cotton. His stomach, however...

Right on cue, his stomach gurgled, and Molly winced, pressing a hand to his midsection. He could feel it bubbling under his skin, everything he'd eaten churning around in there.

Oh. Oh no. A cold sweat washed over his body, and Molly swallowed back the taste of bile.

"Beau?" he asked, swallowing back a belch.

"Yeah?" She wasn't even looking at him, so he allowed himself to press three fingers to his mouth, muffling another queasy burp.

"Would you mind stopping for a moment? I need to, ah – you know, relieve myself."

"Again? We just fucking stopped," Beau grumbled, but she dutifully pulled the horses over to the side of the road anyways, and Molly gratefully slid off of the cart, walking into the treeline as fast as his queasy belly would allow him.

He was gagging before he even came to a stop, a thin trickle of vomit splashing onto the leaves at his feet. He belched up a thick mouthful of undigested food, and then he couldn't stop burping, the sight of his pale vomit on the dark leaves making him more and more nauseous.

Calm down, Molly willed his stomach. He needed to stop puking, he needed to get his churning guts under control and –

Another sickly gag, and Molly managed a mouthful of watery puke. He hovered there for almost a full minute, mouth slightly open, too queasy to even wipe away the thick ropes of saliva trickling from his lips to the ground.

Was that it? He didn't feel done. If anything, his stomach was more bloated than ever, and he didn't feel any less nauseous, but, yet again, he couldn't stay here.

"Done?" Beau asked, hopping back up onto the cart as he approached. Molly took a more careful method, gingerly leveraging himself up so that he wouldn't have to bend over, keeping one hand under the small bloat of his gurgling stomach. It didn't do much, but the illusion of supporting his belly, keeping it from being jostled – it almost convinced him to feel less queasy.

"My apologies," he said simply, muffling a nauseous burp into his fist.

Beau looked at him strangely but only shook her head, taking the reins in hand. "Let's get this show on the fuckin' road!"

He had made a mistake. Molly knew this from the moment the cart jolted to life. Not only was he not done being sick, but the motion was too much to handle. A gag rose up in his throat, and he risked the motion of pressing the back of his hand to his lips as he rode it out. His mouth filled with vomit, and he swallowed it back with effort, and then kept swallowing, throat hitching in an attempt to heave.

Molly sat as still as possible, arms wrapped around his stomach, not even trusting himself to raise his head. The cart hit a particularly bad dip in the road, and his tongue arched in a gag, and he could taste bile on his tongue, and –

"Shit, Beau, pull over," he managed tightly, his throat closing in on a gag. She protested, probably about to make a terrible joke, and then he retched, and she looked over at him in alarm.

She'd yanked the horses over to the side of the road, but he was vomiting over the side of cart before it even came to a stop. He tried to climb down, but it was more of an undignified scramble as he gagged again, adding to the puddle in the grass.

By this point, the others had taken notice, and he was surrounded by a blurry semicircle of his friends as he fell to a crouching position, gagging again and again until he belched up a torrent of puke that splashed everywhere.

He was crying, Molly realized. His face was a mess of tears and snot, thick ropes of spit dangling from his mouth. It felt as if the nausea was never going to go away. He remained there on his hands and knees, panting and belching for what felt like an eternity, until he felt strong arms under his that pulled him to his feet.

Fjord had pulled him up, and was still supporting most of Molly's weight as Jester bounced into his hazy field of view.

"You're sick! Why didn't you tell us?" she demanded, pressing a hand to his forehead. He tried to answer, but couldn't open his mouth for fear of gagging. "Oh, Mol-ly," Jester said in her lilting accent, voice light and almost... teasing? "You have a fever."

"I know that," he managed. "You n – urrp!" He burped into his fist, trying to fight back the wave of nausea that was coming on strongly now. "You need your spells."

"Well, I have one left, so you should have told me," Jester said, voice still light as she fished the Traveler's symbol out from her cloak and pressed it to his belly. "I am going to cast Cure Illness and then you are going to feel better, all right?"

Molly nodded, and the symbol began to glow as Jester concentrated. All at once, a feeling of wrongness washed over him, the nausea surging back tenfold, and he pitched over and vomited on Jester's shoes.

--

"I really do apologize," Molly said miserably for what might have been the tenth time. "I wasn't aiming for you at all."

"My shoes can be cleaned!" Jester said brightly, crouching barefoot in the grass next to him. "You really do need to keep drinking, though."

After Jester's spell had failed and his stomach had calmed somewhat, they'd half-dragged, half-carried him a good bit away from the puddle he'd left on the ground. Fjord had handed him a handkerchief to wipe his mouth with ("Please, keep it.") and Caleb had fished a handful of dry, bland crackers out of his pocket, instructing Molly that he needed to both drink to avoid dehydration, and fill his stomach with something inoffensive if he could.

More like something stale, Molly thought, nibbling on the edge of a cracker. Thinking about how long they'd been in Caleb's pockets made his gorge rise, but before he could ruminate on the thought for too long and make himself sick, Beau walked over from where she'd been huddled with Caleb, Fjord, and Nott.

"Alright, here's the plan," she announced, map in hand. "We obviously can't camp here, so we're gonna get'cha back in the cart and find somewhere where we can settle down for the night, take it nice and slow. There're some towns we could make it to before sundown, but we'd have to go at a pretty fast clip, and I really do not want you puking over all of my things."

"That is very agreeable to me," Molly said, placing a hand on his sour stomach. At Jester's urging, he ate a few more of the crackers and drank deeply from the waterskin as everyone else worked out the logistics of their new plan.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, followed by a chill traveling down his spine, and Molly put his head between his knees, breathing deeply. He could do this. Now that he'd vomited, he would feel better any minute now –

"Molly? Do you think you can stand on your own, or should I be helping you?" Jester asked.

"Thanks for the offer, but I can stand," he said, pulling himself to his feet. His belly felt awful, all the water he'd drank churning in a way that really didn't feel good. He could actually hear his guts sloshing as he heaved himself back up onto the cart.

Jester frowned as he put a hand on the bloat of his still-tender stomach. "Are you feeling bad again? Do you need to vomit?"

"Yes, and maybe," Molly said, swallowing thickly. "Not right now. Probably soon."

"Get him set up in the back of the cart," Beau suggested dryly. "If he's gotta puke, he can do it over the edge. If we stay here any longer, it’s gonna get dark."

"That's a good idea!" Jester exclaimed. As Molly shivered with fever, she collected his blankets and bedroll, setting them in the back of the cart, close enough that he would only need to turn his head to vomit over the side. He gratefully settled into the little nest she'd built for him, arms wrapped around his protesting stomach now that he didn't have to hide his illness. Jester sat next to him, humming as she pulled out her sketchbook.

The cart jolted back to life, and Molly swallowed back a sour belch. His stomach was cramping again, and he screwed his eyes shut, tongue rising in a silent gag. He slipped his hand under his shirt to rub his stomach, only to feel a small hand on his wrist.

"Oh! This looks very painful," Jester said, scooting closer to place her hand on the swell of his stomach. "Does it hurt to touch?"

Molly shook his head. "Just hurts in general. Cramps, I'm..." He trailed off as the cart hit a pothole on the road, causing him to burp lightly into his fist. "I'm feeling a bit queasy right now, to be honest."

"Would it help if I rubbed your stomach?" Jester asked, already untucking the loose fabric of his shirt from his pants and rucking it up to his chest.

"Normally, I'd ask you to buy me dinner first, but..." The suggestive joke was lost as Jester poked experimentally at his stomach. Even if he'd wanted to, Molly couldn't fake being healthy now with his flushed, swollen belly on display, gurgling and churning audibly. Her touch ushered up a soft burp, and he blushed a bit, uncomfortable with the sheer amount of sickness, of vulnerability he was showing.

"Did that feel good? I bet it did!" Jester said, continuing to gently skim her hand over his stomach.

He had to give it to her, Jester was good with her hands. She rubbed his stomach in widening circles, slowly increasing the pressure as she went, switching to kneading the sides of his bloated belly every so often, pressing in with her thumbs as she did so. It seemed as if she knew just when to push in deeply, releasing a pocket of air that had been trapped, finally letting him burp it up.

As they bounced around, Molly's burps became more frequent and more queasy. At some point, he had to ask Jester to stop so he could fish out Fjord's handkerchief, and he pressed that against his mouth now, muffling increasingly wet belches.

"I hate to ask, but –" He gagged, mouth closed. "Jes, do you have any healing spells left?"

Molly's stomach gave a particularly loud gurgle, and Jester pressed in hard, dragging her hand along where it was bubbling the most. "I'm sorry, that was my last one! I won't have any more until tomorrow".

"Okay," he choked out, fighting back another gag. "I'm going to vomit again."

He turned his head and did just that, retching harshly over the side of the cart. A series of burps brought up small mouthfuls of water and undigested crackers. He gagged and belched over and over, only aware of the sensation of Jester's cool hands on his stomach, soothing away cramps and then pressing in each time he heaved.

The next thing he knew, Beau was supporting his back, trying to get him to sit up, and Jester was wiping his face with a cool rag. "Not done –" he tried to croak, but retched dryly before he could even finish the sentence.

"It's okay, go ahead and puke!" Jester said brightly, folding the cloth and cupping it under his mouth.

Molly shook his head, lips pressed tightly shut. He was gonna make a mess, he needed to turn back over the side – but Jester held his chin steadily, keeping his head over her cupped hands, and he retched again and again, bringing up more than a mouthful of stringy bile that was easily absorbed by the cloth.

"Think you're empty, dude," Beau said after a few minutes of fruitless gagging. Molly shook his head, one hand pressed to his aching chest. "Look, okay, I'm gonna teach you some monk shit, right?"

"'Kay," Molly managed, immediately choking on a retch.

"This breathing shit, it's supposed to keep you centered, or something like that? I dunno. Anyways. You're gonna breathe in through your nose for eight counts –" She counted him up, and Molly shakily inhaled, fighting back gags all the while. "–And then out through your mouth for another eight."

On five, Molly gagged, slapping his hand across his mouth even though he knew he had nothing left to lose.

"You gotta keep doing it, okay? Don't stop fucking breathing. It helps me when I'm motion sick; you'll feel better soon."

He hoped so. Molly leaned back, listening to the quiet count of eight-seven-six-five-four... He breathed in. He breathed out.

--

By nightfall, they'd found a small clearing with enough room to pull over the cart and horses and lay out bedrolls. Molly mostly dozed through the process, lying in his nest of blankets in the back of the cart, watching proceedings through half-lidded eyes.

"Molly should be nearest to the fire!" Jester insisted. "Look at him, he's shaking!"

"Don't think that you're supposed to let someone with a fever get any hotter," Fjord drawled. "Maybe we oughta help him cool down first."

The cart rocked a bit as Beau clambered up, sitting cross-legged next to Molly. "Hey," she said. "I'm supposed to make sure that you're drinking water. Are you?"

Molly made a face. He'd been trying to, really, but it just didn't feel good.

"Shit," Beau said. "You gonna puke again?"

"No, it's more like..." He grimaced again, waving a hand in the general direction of his stomach. "Cramps. Hurts."

"Puking all day really took it out of you, huh?"

Molly nodded. His stomach muscles were just sore. Even sitting up hurt; he really didn't want to have to puke again. Just for Beau, he took a small sip of water.

"Excuse me," Caleb said, appearing on Molly's right like a ghost. "I could not help but overhear you say that you were experiencing, ah..." He tried a few words in Zemnian before landing on, "Pain, soreness, in the stomach?"

"Yeah," Beau said, and Molly flashed her a grateful smile. His throat was raw from stomach bile, and talking hurt. "Probably from puking too much. Y'know, if you keep that up, I bet you could get a fucking amazing set of abs," she said, elbowing Molly.

"What makes you think mine aren't already stunning?" he retorted.

"I do not think Molly wishes to repeat such... an intense performance," Caleb said, already flipping through one of his books. "Can I have... yes, that, give me that."

Beau tossed him one of the blankets that had been cast aside, and Caleb caught it in one hand, deftly folding it into a compact square and working some sort of magic on it, something that made both his hands and the blanket glow.

"Here," he said at last. "It is enchanted to stay warm for at least a few hours. Not as good as a heating pack, but, under these circumstances..."

"Thank you, Caleb," Molly rasped, nodding his head in gratitude. The folded blanket was warm to the touch, and he peeled off the other blankets to set it on his stomach, the tension instantly draining out of him as warmth spread through his body. The effect was like taking a hot bath after an intense fight – not completely relieving his aches and pains, but making them much more bearable.

Eventually, Molly was able to stand as Beau and Jester moved his bedroll over to the fire, but he gratefully sank back into the blankets as soon as possible. Even with his makeshift heating pad, he was left trembling with both cold and exhaustion, his energy sapped by just a few simple movements.

"You need to eat, Molly!" Jester exclaimed. "It will make you stronger, you know?"

"I'm good, thanks," Molly said, and then, at her intensifying glare, added, "Really, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Well, Fjord is making soup, so! You should eat it anyways."

"'S less of a soup and more of... I dunno. Leftover meat in water?"

"Hot water," Molly said. He was feeling well enough to joke with the others, at least.

He thought to close his eyes and get some rest, but an insistent poking at his shoulder startled Molly out of any chance at sleep, and he turned his head to see Nott crouched next to him, holding a vial in one green hand.

"Here!" she said, pushing the vial into his own hand and closing his fingers around it when he just stared. "You have to drink it!"

"What is this?" Molly asked, holding the vial up to the light. The glass was dirty, nearly opaque, but the liquid inside seemed to be thick and viscous, a texture that made his gorge rise. "Medicine?"

"Yes! Sort of! It will help settle your stomach, make it hurt less. Probably!"

"Nott," Molly said slowly, "did you make this yourself?" She had the chemistry kit, yes, but from the amount of times he had seen her make acid with it, he didn't want to drink anything that came from one of her vials.

"Yeees," she said slowly, stretching the word out. "But it works!" At Molly's doubtful look, she added, "I drank it before, several times! When I had too much to drink, or when I was hungover, or..."

"All right, I get it, thank you," Molly said. "I appreciate the thought."

He uncorked the vial and peered inside. The liquid was a muddy brown, and grit rose to the top as he swirled it. Well, what did he have to lose, besides his lunch? He tipped the contents into his mouth, gagging on the texture but forcing it down in one swallow. The aftertaste was absolutely vile, and he lurched forward, clapping a hand against his mouth as his stomach threatened to revolt.

"You gotta keep it down!" Nott exclaimed. "Otherwise, it doesn't work."

Molly hummed, rocking back and forth as he tried to swallow back the bile that was creeping up his throat. A muffled gag sent the potion flooding into his mouth, filling his cheeks out, and if was only by sheer willpower that he swallowed it down again.

"Ugh," Molly said when the nausea had passed. "You have a stronger stomach than I do, my friend."

Nott beamed at him with a mouthful of sharp teeth, and Molly found the strength to laugh.

After another few minutes of quiet chatter, it became evident that the potion had worked, at least in some capacity. Molly's stomach felt more sure, like that tight queasiness had abated somewhat, and he was able to entertain the thought of food without gagging. Maybe he really was on the mend.

"You know what?" he asked. "Maybe I'll try some of that soup after all."

--

Molly woke up shaking, drenched in sweat, and with a growing sense of queasiness in his belly. He tried to ignore the latter – he had been feeling a bit better, just weak, and he didn't want to get up – but the churning and bubbling under his hand wasn't going away, and he didn't enjoy the thought of soiling the campgrounds.

With a muffled groan, he rolled over, his stomach protesting every move as he stood. It was bloated again, he noticed, far more than last time. Clearly, the soup he'd eaten wasn't sitting well at all.

"You are awake," Caleb observed from his post as watchman. "What are you doing?"

"Need some privacy," Molly said quietly, giving him a small half-smile. He didn't want to wake anyone else, didn't want the attention –

"Are you going to vomit?"

"That too," he muttered.

"I will come with you," Caleb announced. "You are ill, and I would feel – badly, if anything happened to you."

"You don't have to," Molly said, pressing his hand against his sour stomach. His nausea was mounting quickly, a sure sign that he needed to leave before he redecorated the campsite. "You're on watch duty, besides."

"I have this." Caleb gestured to the silver thread wound 'round the perimeter. "I will know if anything happens while we are gone."

"As you wish." Molly pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, burping quietly. He traipsed into the woods yet again, Caleb at his heels. When the dying light of the campfire was no longer visible, he allowed himself to stop, stretching out one arm to lean on a nearby tree and breathing heavily.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he focused on breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth. Beau's exercises didn't make him any less nauseous, but his heart wasn't beating quite so fast, and it helped him breathe through some of the worst cramps.

"Are you still going to vomit?" Molly jumped, nearly forgetting that Caleb was with him. The other man stood a few feet away, head tilted curiously to the side. "I thought you said you were nauseous."

"I will, eventually." Another cramp seized his middle, and Molly winced, bending forward and clamping his hand down on his stomach. The movement jarred a long, deep belch up his throat, and he stayed there for a moment, the taste of acid on the back of his tongue. "It's coming up, just – I'm waiting."

"I see."

Saliva was beginning to collect in Molly's mouth, and he parted his lips, allowed it to fall to the forest floor. No point in holding it back now. "You should head back now, if you don't want to be disgusted. It's not – uuuurp–gh!" A deep, rumbling burp turned into a gag, and Molly clapped his hand against his mouth as he spoke, voice muffled by his fingers. "It's not pretty."

"I am not disgusted," Caleb said, his clipped accent making the words sharper, somehow. "It is merely a function of the body, no more or no less. You are ill, ja? Let your body do what it needs to."

"Mmm." Molly gagged audibly, spitting a glob of thick saliva onto the ground. He felt awful, sick and dizzy again, wanting nothing more than to get this over with.

"Beau said earlier that rubbing your stomach helped, yes? Would you like me to... shall we say, get things started for you?"

"Please," Molly practically begged, shaking with nausea. Caleb silently walked behind him, wrapping his arms around Molly, fingers resting on the base of his stomach. "I can't believe you're not absolutely grossed out by this."

"Like I said, I would like to be of help."

Unlike Jester, Caleb's hands were warm, almost hot to the touch, and Molly wondered if he was doing that with magic. He didn't waste any time, just waited until Molly's stomach cramped and then pushed in, hard.

Molly immediately belched up a hot torrent of vomit, the soup he'd consumed earlier splattering at his feet in a foamy mess. Caleb didn't let up, keeping up a steady pattern of squeezing and then letting go, ushering up wet burps alternating with splashes of thick vomit. Nott's potion, he recognized with disgust. It tasted even worse coming up.

When he was belching emptily, Caleb released his stomach, turning Molly to face him.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm – urp! – waiting on the next round," Molly said. Caleb held out a waterskin, and Molly shook his head queasily.

"You know, vomiting on an empty stomach is never much fun," Caleb insisted quietly.

Molly got a few swallows down before he gagged directly into the waterskin, spraying watery puke onto his hand and arm and down his chest, soaking his nightshirt. He choked on it, coughing and spitting out mouthfuls of water and bile, gulping down gags and trying his best to catch his breath.

When the coughing fit stopped, though, his stomach had stopped churning. The cooling vomit on his shirt and beads of sweat on his forehead let him know that his fever had broken, too.

"That was absolutely vile, but I feel – better," he said under Caleb's questioning gaze. "I didn't catch you in any of that, did I?"

"Oh!" Caleb said, as if he had never even considered the possibility. "No, I believe that my clothing is... unscathed, for now. Are you finished?"

Molly wiped his mouth on his sleeve, making a face. "For now. I'll probably have to puke again later, but I don't enjoy the idea of sitting out here and waiting for it."

"If it would help," Caleb offered, "you might sit with me while you wait for your stomach to settle."

Molly smiled, despite himself. "I just might take you up on that, my friend."

[mossworth]

❤️ 🗣 🏝 💔👤- I could just ask all of them honestly, but I should probably call it here~

I can always count on you to let me ramble about my stuff. ♩✧♪●♩

Ooh, these are good ones, too! But I'm going to apologize in advance because these are much longer than single "lines". But uh. Yeah I'm sure there aren't any rules against it. Tally-Ho.

Thanks again for the ask!

❤️ Share one of your favorite lines.

“…Where one should’ve seen another man’s eyes, seen the sockets and bone that normally made up expression he only saw bulging skin. A translucent, membranous layer coated above pools of oil; sacks of gelatinous fat held in place with grease. Ardolf was thankful he’d been born strong-willed, otherwise he was certain he might’ve fainted. He was already nearly there. In the sockets of its face, murky blacks and blues swam under the transparent skin. There were no pupils, no irises, no whites, but the eyes themselves – the things that overtook the creature’s face weren’t hollow. Instead, he found himself staring into two bulging pockets swollen with liquid – a viscous solution that filled a sack.

Not just as a medical man or doctor of science and research, but as a human being in a world where daily he saw the outcomes of magic in man and beast alike – Ardolf had never seen a creature like that…”

- Sightless Through the Underbrush - A Bit of Fantasy Horror

🗣 Share your favorite dialogue exchange.

“…“Uuwu – what’s this?” He said, bending down to look at the pile.

I punched him. It was on the arm and not hard enough to actually hurt, but we both had a silent understanding that he deserved so much more. “Never say that again.”

He paused for a second – as if he were suddenly faced with an intimately life altering decision. “…Uuwu, what’s wrong with you?”

I punched him again.”

🏝 Share your favorite description of a setting.

I’m so sorry I genuinely couldn’t choose between these two so you’re just going to have to take both –

“On coming to the woods that held the city, life bustled and hurried around them – it was sunset, just as Brutus said it would be, and all the people seemed keen to get back to their homes and their hostels. But even past the endlessly humming crowds, it was impossible to miss the archway that marked the entrance to Olfnor itself.

Fantastically massive trees were bowed and braided into each other, their leaves intertwined creating one single, welcoming archway. Set firmly in their trunks were deep groves, these naturally formed hollows that held stoic-faced archers watching the gates and the people coming through them. If it weren’t the trees that caught their eyes, it was the way the dim, setting sunlight danced and shined through their curved branches. Catching the light in such a-way that it illuminated the whole of the gate in a faint gold and orange glow.”

- "A Poorly Timed Meeting", a bit from a chapter of a "currently unnamed" WIP

“I’m certain there’s better graves on this plane to lay yourselves into.” The voice cracked into a low, muttering chuckle. “Come to me, will you? I want to know whose corpse I’ll be smelling for the next… oh, eleven years. Twelve if it doesn’t get too damp.” With that, those pinkish watercolor lights filtered into the room from every direction. They snaked through the faint cracks in the stone, filling them like a dam-broken into a drought-ridden river. With his hands planted shakily on the ground he could feel the light properly; it was freezing. The tendrils of color wound to the center in pulsating, pastel waves. The figure was illuminated with every strike of pink and white. It was humanoid but radiated this inhuman presence that stifled the room in a light, panicky fog. It sat slumped over its legs with long, spindly arms pulled behind it. Its face stayed turned to the ground as it spoke; long, unkempt strands of hair running in tangles over its bare shoulders and down its back. In the slim cascades of tinted light – purples, blues, and pinks now washing over the walls – it was impossible to tell the color of any one thing on its body. As Illistar peered through the light, trying to determine if the figure in front of him was real or some poisoned hallucination, he realized it was more than some kneeling man with an odd choice of seating – it was bound to the center of the room. Its form propped up, just a few inches, from the floor on a sharply carved pedestal that raised it into a series of chains. They were dull and old, black at the farthest points on the walls but turning white the closer to figure they got – as if holding each magical ray of color it created. The links of metal shot in every direction off the kneeling form. From the traps around its wrist; the collar around its neck; to the largest clamped firmly around its waist linked with dozens of short chains, driving it further in the ground; it sat there in a mess of tightly bound cable and rope. A prisoner in technicolor water.”

- Heteroclite's Chamber, Tales of Waterdeep: The Chained Madness - Heteroclite, Heterodox, Hklinein

This one can actually be read in full!

Either here on Tumblr,

or over here on AO3

💔 Share your most heartbreaking line.

…”As you break your way into the cell, you find him. After all this time, the work, the grief, you finally find him there huddled in one of the corners. Beaten and bullied with dark purple bruises contrasting his grey skin. But as you take a step forward, he shifts back. Not scared or shaken, but angry. He glares at you in a way you'd only ever seen when he had been fighting for you. Staring daggers as if he doesn't even recognize who you are. You try to say something, lifting you hands to sign but you realize he's not looking at you. He won't even let you try to say something.

But in his anger you can't help but to notice tears falling down his face. Bitter, angry and wet – trailing in glossy streaks.

He signs something fast and frantic, hardly legible behind the heavy chains holding his wrists but just well enough that the words strike you. “Monsters.” the first word repeats as he motions to the whole group. “You monster.” He signs, hands striking words now directed exactly at you. “You have taken everything… But not him. Not him.” He hesitates, like a stutter. “At least leave my memory whole.”…”

- Description I wrote for a D&D session from when one of the PCs finally found his love interest who’d been kidnapped by a criminal origination. Theyrn wasn’t entirely willing to believe that Calder really was who he said he was, and thought his captors were just trying to bait him. This was the moment Calder learned that they truly felt the same about each other in probably the most depressing way possible. It was so much fun. My player’s almost cried.

BONUS:

“Go. Live. Don’t waste your life on those who don’t know how to die.”

- The Ghost of an Assassinated Prince to his Still-living Partner

👤 Share a line that shows a character’s personality.

“…“Hey, the car’s not –“ Jo tried to put it in reverse but the shift-stick wouldn’t budge. “It’s not moving.”

“Did you try asking it nicely…?” Martin pitched in, leaning forward a little.

“No, I guess I didn’t think to – James, fix it.”

James put his hands in the air defensively. “Ye forces of magic are old and unpredictable! My hands are clean from whatever’s happening here.”…”

- Ghoul Parade (I’d give a chapter but this one hasn’t actually been published yet, sorry!)

[iamtrebleclefstories]

Every Day I Love You More - Ch.4

Chapter 4 - FIGURES

After having drunk sex, Jo and Alex are having a baby. An actual baby. Here’s how everyone finds out.

-Sequel to I’m Happy Right Here with You-

Jo and Alex are pretty good at keeping their little secret. Cristina just wants everyone to know already.

Another week went by and Jo and Alex had done a surprisingly great job at hiding the fact that Jo was ten weeks pregnant. Thankfully, much of this was due to the fact that Jo still had a few weeks before she’d start showing. Cristina on the other hand, was finding it torturous to keep this secret. She constantly found herself almost slipping up and mentioning the pregnancy to Meredith or Owen or Ross. One time, she even debated telling Zola so that she wouldn’t have to be the only one holding on to this information.

 It helped when she thought of it in terms of HIPPA. Sharing Wilson’s pregnancy would be a violation of HIPPA. It was just another piece of medical information that she was not allowed to disclose. However, seeing the ultrasound picture of the fetus on the refrigerator made it increasingly difficult to compartmentalize. Any time she invited someone over to the house, she’d have to hide the photograph in a drawer. Whenever she ate cereal and sat at the kitchen island, she’d find herself staring at the sonogram in disbelief at the fact that Alex Karev procreated.

 Cristina could not wait until Jo hit the twelve week mark, or people started figuring it out. Sure, Jo’s stomach was still flat, but her boobs had grown at least a cup size and she was eating more than usual. On top of that, she was taking constant trips to the bathroom to vomit and had been avoiding the x-ray rooms like vampires avoid the light. Jo also had this annoying new shine to her hair and skin, that made Cristina scowl with annoyance.

 As Cristina mulled over not being able to talk about the Junior Evil Spawn that was on its way, Jo walked into the kitchen. Cristina looked up from the box she was eating out of, “Good morning, Hairball. Or should I say, mommy to be?”

 “Good morning, Yang,” Jo rolled her eyes. She had a strange relationship with Cristina Yang. They lived together and she was one of the only people to know about Jo’s pregnancy, but they still were not on a first name basis. To be honest, Jo never thought they would be.

 “You know, I wanted to say thank you for finally moving all of your stuff into Alex’s room because that means you no longer monopolize my bathroom in the mornings puking your brains out,” Cristina said as she chewed on her cereal.

 “You’re welcome?” Jo scrunched her face. “And just to let you know, I’m not puking as much as I was before. It’s slowed down. And thank goodness because I was pretty sure people were going to find out. I’m running out of ways to get away from Stephanie.”

 “Everyone is going to find out if your boobs keep growing at the rate they are,” Cristina shrugged.

 “They’re not that bad!” Jo exclaimed.

 “What’s not bad?” Alex asked as he walked into the room.

 “My boobs,” Jo looked down at her breasts. “I know they’ve gotten bigger, but they’re not that bad right?”

 “Hey, don’t ask me. I think they’re great.” Alex grinned. “No complaints over here.”

 “Alex I’m serious,” Jo slapped his arm. “Do you think anyone has noticed? Yang said that they’re growing fast.”

 “Like I said,” Alex took a bite into an apple. “I think they’re great. I’m too busy staring at them to notice if anyone else is.”

 “He’s useless,” Cristina rolled her eyes. “Anyway, if we’re going to carpool today I’m leaving right now so, get in the car and vamonos.”

  By the time they arrived to the hospital, everyone had been ushered into various tasks. There was no time for meandering around and waiting for instructions. It was a busy day and required heightened senses and focus. There had a playground collapse at a local elementary school and there were a few kids in need of care. Thankfully, not many were injured enough to require surgery. However, in Trauma 2, Jo and Alex were treating a young girl of about six years old with internal bleeding and possible open fractures.

 “Hey you called for an ortho consult,” Callie asked as she entered the room.

 Alex looked up from the ultrasound he was performing, “Yeah. She’s got a couple broken ribs and an open fracture on her leg that needs surgical treatment.”

 “Okay,” Callie looked over the young girl’s injuries. “Wilson, I need you get a portable x-ray in here stat. I want to get a better look at her fracture before we go up to the OR.”

 Alex and Jo exchanged a look. They had done such a great job at avoiding situations like these for the past two weeks. Alex cleared his throat, “I’ll do it. Jo, I need you to get my extra scrub cap from my locker. I forgot that I didn’t have my usual one washed.”

 Jo nodded appreciatively as she exited the room. Callie gave Alex a strange look, “I know she’s your girlfriend and all, but she’s the resident. She should be doing the x-ray. Not you.”

 “It’s fine. I don’t mind,” Alex said as he and Callie each put on a lead x-ray covering. “Besides, I’m the attending, so it just makes more sense for me to stick around than leave the patient with a resident while I go get my scrub cap.”

 “Well, she wouldn’t have been alone. I’m here,” Callie pointed out.

 “Oh. Yeah. That’s right,” Alex shrugged.

 Callie watched Alex move under her scrutinizing gaze. He was being weird, and Callie was determined to find out why. Suddenly, Callie’s face turned to one of pure shock, “Oh, tell me you didn’t.”

 “Didn’t what?” Alex asked. “I know how to take an x-ray. I didn’t move anything.”

 “No, I’m not talking about that,” Callie shook her head. “Tell me you didn’t get Wilson pregnant.”

 Alex gulped, “I… what?”

 “Oh my God. You did,” Callie stood up from the stool she had been sitting in. “And you can’t even lie about it. She���s pregnant.”

 Unsure of what to say, Alex decided to keep quiet as Callie rambled off a ton of questions, “When did this happen? How far along is she? How long have you known??”

 Sighing, Alex motioned with his hands, “Calm down and keep quiet. She’s only ten weeks so we’re trying to keep it a secret. The only other person who knows is Cristina because we live with her. We found out two weeks ago, the day before we told everyone that we’re together.”

 “She’s already ten weeks?” Callie exclaimed. “How long have you two been together without telling us? How did this happen?”

 “You remember Mer’s birthday party?” Alex laughed awkwardly. “We had drunk sex and made baby.”

  “You what? But you guys weren’t even together back then,” Callie’s eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of her head. “Oh! Oh… good Lord. Don’t tell me you’re only with her because of the baby. You might act like you have no feelings but you are actually a pretty decent guy and it’s totally something you would do.”

 “No! I’m not with Jo because of the baby,” Alex exclaimed. “I’m with Jo because I love her and I want to be with her. The baby is just an added bonus.”

 “That’s probably the most sickeningly sweet thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Callie looked at him weirdly. “Who are you and what have you done with Alex Karev?”

 “Hey! I’ve got your scrub cap,” Jo announced as she walked back into the trauma room. “Did you guys finish the x-rays?”

 “Yes, Wilson. We finished the x-rays. No need to worry. Your precious cargo is safe,” Callie replied.

 Jo’s face paled. She looked at Alex accusingly, “You told her?”

 “Didn’t have to,” Alex shook his head. “She figured it out.”

 “It’s the boobs isn’t it? That’s what gave it away,” Jo huffed. “Cristina said they were growing really fast, but I didn’t think they were that bad.”

 “No it wasn’t the boobs,” Callie chuckled. “But now that you mentioned it, they look fantastic. Don’t be surprised if people start hitting on you. I know I sure would.”

 “I don’t know if I should be proud that I have a hot girlfriend or worried that someone’s going to try to take you from me,” Alex wrapped an arm around Jo’s waist.

 “Oh please,” Jo rolled her eyes. “In a few months, the only person who’s going to think I look hot, is you. And the only reason you’ll think that is because your male, primal instincts tell you to find me attractive so you can protect me, even though I’ll be as big as a whale.”

 “That’s true,” Alex kissed her forehead. “You’ll always be hot to me.”

 “Ugh, now I’m going to puke,” Callie made a face. “Let’s get this girl up to the OR. You two can stare into each other’s eyes later.”

 Hours later, Callie walked by Cristina in the parking lot on the way to the car and gave her a pointed look. Cristina tilted her head and stared at Callie for a moment. Finally, Cristina’s jaw dropped, “You know.”

 “I know,” Callie confirmed.

 “How did you find out?” Cristina asked. “They aren’t telling people yet.”

 “Alex made up some lame excuse to get Wilson out of the room when it was time to take some little girl’s x-rays,” Callie shared. “I figured it out pretty quickly and he didn’t even try to deny it.”

 “Oh thank God,” Cristina breathed out a sigh of relief. “I was going crazy not being able to talk to anyone about this.”

 “Ooh, you know I’m down to talk about this whenever,” Callie grinned. “Alright, so tell me, how did you find out?”

[snaileer]

Chips & Salsa Chp 5

Lance stared blankly at his team, each caught up in their own worlds. Pidge and Hunk discussing some new gadget. Allura and Coran discussing the castle. Shiro and Keith talking about... training probably. They were all together in the common room, but nobody was talking to anybody else. 

He felt fuzzy. Like he was empty, not bad empty. Just.. silence. The world felt muted. It felt like he was watching himself sit there. It was like he was another person, no emotions tethering him. It felt dangerously peaceful, something heavy sat in his stomach telling him it was wrong. 

They hadn’t done anything after yesterday, and he hadn’t slept last night, or since he’d been back. The sleep deprivation must be getting to him more than he thought it was. 

Lance still watched himself sit there, looking at nothing, seeing nothing. Nothing but haunting, eerie, calm that-

Lance winced harshly and grabbed his ears as he leaned over in pain. The others stopped and glanced over in worry.

“I’m fine, ignore it.” The words felt heavy to get out, like pulling his mind from a fog, though the ringing in his ears had already yanked him away.

The team hesitantly turned back to their conversations. And he pretended not to notice their inability to subtly glance at him.

‘Ignore it.’ What wonderful, fantastic, completely useless advice.

The ringing was barely even the problem, he could deal with this. It was the nothing that was bothering him. Doing nothing, talking about nothing, he was bored.

His leg started bouncing. 

He spread his arms out behind him and tapped his fingers on top of the couch backrest.

He looked around at the room, to his teammates. He glanced back and forth between each small group.

Screw this. Lance stood and left the room without a word, easily brushing off the questions that followed him out. He wasn't ‘leaving-leaving’ so they shouldn't get too worried about it. And it’s not like he was participating in any particularly riveting discussions with them.

It’s not like they were even having a moderately boring conversation with him.

It’s not like they were talking to him instead of about him. Or including him in anything.

It’s not like it was any different from when he left in the first place.

Lance ran his hand through his hair, feeling the small scab on his temple from his first moments back in the castle. He sighed,

To the training room it is then. Lance rolled his eyes,

Hooray.

x--x--x

Lance sagged against his bayard, using the barrel of the gun as a staff. He was exhausted, his breath was ragged and his muscles burned from overexertion.

Lance flinched harshly when the doors swished open. He blinked the blurriness out of his vision, and there stood Keith in all his mulleted glory. 

“Keith?”

“Oh, hey, Lance, I didn’t know you were in here.” Keith stood there stiffly, his words tight. The tension from yesterday had not disappeared completely yet.

“It’s fine, I just finished.”

“Really?”

“Yes, don't worry Samurai, I won't tell Shiro you’re in here. Train to your heart’s content. Or ‘til you drop. Whichever comes first.”

“Ha ha,” Keith said sarcastically, “I’m better at regulating my training now.” Lance gave him a doubtful eyebrow. “Most of the time,.” Another skeptical look, “Alright, some of the time, but I’ve got it under control.” His voice got defensive.

“Okaay, whatever you say, Keith,” Lance spoke over his shoulder as he started towards the doors.

“Oh! Wait! I was supposed to tell you, we have a team meeting in an hour.”

Right. That.

“No problem. See ya’ there.” An hour was just enough time for a shower and a short face cleanse, finally.

The shower immediately made him feel better. Lance stood under the showerhead for longer than necessary, feeling the water flow over his face and his skin. He missed the water. Missed being clean. He’d hated the dirt and grime of the cells, the terror of every second-

No, don’t think about that. Anything else.

He shut off the faucet with a bit more force than necessary. Stepping out of the steam, Lance stumbled and braced a hand on the wall as a headache bloomed. He really needed to sleep, he could feel the dropoff point of exhaustion creeping up on him. Lance shook it off and wrapped himself in a towel, pointedly avoiding the mirror as he left the room.

He was relieved to find all of his facial supplies were still usable. The space-avocado face wash was a blessing he had longed for in captivity. There were a lot of things he had wished for in-

Nope. Nope. Nope nope nope. Other things. Puppies. And rainbows. Properly cut mullets.

Lance quickly moved his thoughts away, forcibly humming ‘These Are A Few of My Favorite Things’ under his breath as he washed the avocado cream off. He glanced up at the mirror in habit. His eyes caught his own reflection.

His wet hair was still stuck in weird spikes and plastered to his forehead. Before, he might have fussed about it drying like that. Now: he was still annoyed by the mangled haircut, but his eyes focused on the scars.

Lance had managed to protect his face relatively well. There was still a few marks he hadn't managed to avoid. 

The scab on his right temple. From Keith’s knife when he got out of the pod. To remind him he was here.

The grooved slash at his hairline. From being thrown across the room by Zarkon. To remind him of his place.

The small nicked mark on his neck. From his first fight. To remind him to survive.

The short rough scar at the bridge of his nose.

From the muzzle.

To remind him of obedience.

Lance’s eyes lingered on that one. He remembered it well, though it was the least noticeable. It was barely there, visible if you looked but easier to feel. Lance ran his finger across it. It was short, probably less than an inch long in total. But it was the implications that gave it weight.

Because it looked exactly like Shiro’s.

Lance finally pulled himself away from the mirror, deciding it was best to ignore his other scars. He got dressed again, just in time to be... very late to the team meeting.

Crap.

Lance was still pulling on his jacket as he ran down the hall. He came to a rolling stop in front of the bridge doorway.

“-still has no punctuality.” He heard Keith’s voice first when the doors opened automatically. 

“Sorry I’m late. I did remember it though,” Lance announced as he entered.

“It’s fine, Lance. Keith complains but he was only ten minutes earlier than you.” Shiro said from behind Pidge’s chair.

“Thanks, Shiro.” Lance gave him a grateful smile, Shiro nodding in response.

“Don't tell him that!” Keith burst out at the same time.

“What? It’s true.” Shiro smiled cheekily at his brother.

“Yeah, I know that but-”

“I’ve got it!” Pidge’s exclamation called everybody’s attention to her. Her paladin chair was surrounded by gears and random metal pieces with various pop-up holograms. Hunk among them as well.

The momentary pause as they moved to Pidge made Lance realize he still had the headache from getting out of the shower. The bags under his eyes felt heavier, he would need to rest at some point soon.

“So, yesterday, after, ahem,” Pidge cleared her throat awkwardly, glancing at Lance, “breakfast. I started going over the old missions, including that mission.”

“And why were you looking at that mission?” Shiro’s space-dad came out to scold her.

“Because I was hit by a wave of guilt and decided to indulge my self-destructive tendencies. Why else?”

“Pidge, we’ve talked about-”

“Anyways. I was also looking at the rescue mission and the EMP device we used. And I realized that if I could miniaturize and focus the pulse onto the chip, I might be able to shut it down-.”

“So do it. Let’s get this show on the road.” Lance stepped closer, eager to get this over with. Allura moved to give him space.

“Let me finish, Lance. I could shut it down temporarily. And even then, it’s risky. A high-level electromagnetic pulse aimed directly at your brain? There’s too many possible consequences and too many variables.”

“So why tell us about this at all?” Keith snapped.

“Because it’s still useful.” She barked back, before taking a deep breath, “It could be useful in times we need him asleep. Like in the pod, or when we can get rid of the chip.” She glared at Keith sharply, “I did make something else though. A way to stop the tracker within the chip.”

“Then you can stay, Lance,” Hunk looked at his friend hopefully, “We can be legs again!”

“Can’t wait, bud,” Lance could wait for it, he wanted to. Yes, he loved being a part of Voltron, but he didn’t even know if Blue would still accept him. He was afraid to find out.

“So I was working the design to be small and compact, Hunk helped me with that, and we made it into a bracelet.” Pidge pulled a small box out from among her things, handing it to Lance. 

Inside the box was a grayish bracelet, it was about 2 inches long, went all the way around and- 

“How am I going to get this on my wrist? There’s no gap.” Lance looked from the box back up to Pidge.

“Ooh! That’s the coolest part!” Pidge jumped up from her seat to grap the bracelet from him.

“A bracelet that blocks radio-waves across the galaxy from a magic chip in my head, and that’s the coolest part?” Lance looked at her doubtfully.

“Of course. Watch this,” She tapped an almost invisible button on the bracelet and a piece slid away. She used the newly appeared gap to put it on Lance’s wrist. Then, another tap of the bracelet and it slid closed again. A red light blinked on.

“My, that is pretty cool, number five.” Lance held his arm up for Coran as he leaned in to look. 

The weight on his arm felt familiar. And, bonus points for perfectly covering his weird tan lines.

“Any chance we can make it blue?” Pidge glared at him like he’d destroyed her honor, Lance put his hands up, “Yeesh, fine, no blue.” He turned it wrist back and forth, the bracelet really did fit perfectly. “I really like it, Pidge. Thank you.” He gave her a small smile, “And you’re sure it’ll work?”

“Yes, I perfectly calculated it to the chip’s signal, which was crazy hard to say the least. I’ve never seen a signal like that before. It functions like a cell phone call, but both receiving and sending were the same signal. It really shows the advances of alien technology and the push that space travel must have had to be able to communicate over the distance of galaxies. It’s incredible, really!” Pidge smiled in amazement at the technology.

“I’m definitely not as excited as you about this chip. I’m probably gonna melt it to bits the second I get the chance.”

“But what about the tech?! I have to study it!” Pidge pleaded.

“But what about the- no,” He mocked her then dropped his voice at the end, “Fire. Lots of fire. Maybe even a blowtorch. I don’t know. I’ll get creative, have a bit of fun with it.” He gave her a tense smile.

“But the possibilities of-”

“So, bracelet… it works?”

“Yeah, it works,” she grumbled, “All I have to do is turn it on.” Pidge reached over and clicked something on the bracelet. The red light turned green.

“How does it have power? Will it ever run out of charge?” Keith asked as he stepped up to the group.

“Nope, tiny balmeran crystal, right at the heart of it,” Hunk said proudly, “Courtesy of Shay from our last visit.”

“Whoa, when did Shay start giving you gifts? I so don't remember that from last time.” Lance piped in, elbowing Hunk with a smirk. Everyone’s face dropped. “What? What’d I say?”

“Nothing. Just... while you were gone, we had to make a trip to the Balmera. Had to save the whole planet actually. It wasn't easy, especially-.” Hunk looked down, “Especially without the Blue lion.” 

“What? What happened? When did-?” Lance stood straighter. The team looked at each other, wondering if they should tell him, “Guys, I’ll be fine. Just tell me what happened. I need to know.”

“It was still pretty soon after you got.. y’know…” Hunk started wringing his hands together, “And uh, we were looking for you when we got a distress call from Shay’s Balmera.” He looked back at Lance, “We almost didn’t go.”

“But you did go, right?” Lance looked at the others, they avoided his gaze, “You did your job, right?” His tone was harsh, “You saved people, like Voltron is supposed to, right? You didn’t sacrifice a planet just to look for me, right?”

“We did go, Lance-,” Shiro tried to reason.

“But by the time we got there… the beast had already destroyed so much.” Keith still felt guilty about it, mostly because he had voted against going at all. He still didn’t know if that was the right choice. Or if he regretted it.

“The beast? What Beast?”

“The robeast we fought before; the one that got encased in crystal by the Balmera,” Keith explained, “It broke free and used the crystals as power sources.” 

“And flying shields, which has got to be one of the most infuriating things Voltron’s ever fought,” Pidge chimed in from her chair.

“Wait, Voltron? You guys were able to form Votlron without me?” Lance had heard rumors of a full voltron in the cells, but he’d hoped they were false. That he wasn't as easily replaceable as that. That he did contribute to the team, but if Voltron could form without him-.

“Barely,” Keith scoffed, “Blue was more temperamental than Red about Allura flying her. Even when we did form Voltron, we were hardly at full power. And we fell apart seconds after defeating it.”

“It’s true. Though the Blue Lion is the most friendly, I fear we are not as great a match as I had previously believed.” Allura looked saddened by the prospect.

“So the rumors I heard? About Voltron resurfacing?”

“Only a few times,” Pidge climbed out of her chair to sit on the armrest, “It was so draining that none of us could sustain it for long without serious damage.”

“I wish I had been there. We could have stopped it. Voltron wouldn’t have been late.” Lance could only feel useless at the idea of Shay hurting because he couldn't be there when he was supposed to be.

“It’s alright. There’s nothing we can do about it now.” Shiro was the first to get back up, “We have you back and that’s all that matters, right?”

“No, Shiro! That’s not all that matters! An entire planet was hurt because I couldn’t be there. Because I-” Lance’s voice cracked, “I couldn’t-”

“Exactly, you couldn’t. You would have been there if you could. You would have tried to help any way you could. You always do.” Shiro stepped towards Lance, but he stepped away. He glanced around at the others looking at him with worry.

“Yeah, sorry guys, but uh- I think I’m just gonna hit the hay,” His words shook with the devastation in his eyes, “I’m pretty tired and-” Lance cleared his throat to try and steady his voice, “Thanks for telling me though, I’ll see you at breakfast.” He backed out of the room with a weak wave, dutifully ignoring the lump in his throat.

Lance quickly turned towards his room. He hoped the team would be too awkward to follow him. Lance scrubbed at his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears before they could fall. 

Later. Cry later. 

“Dang it, Lance,” He mumbled under his breath, “You don’t have time for this now.” He sniffed and tried to take a deep breath, “Yeah, it’s no big deal. Just an entire planet you abandoned.” He stepped into his room, letting the doors swish close behind him.

“Gah! I knew it!” He swung his fist at the wall. The mental dented, but didn’t crush like drywall. “I knew something would happen! God, I’m so stupid! Thinking everything would be okay for just three months!” He paced around the room, throwing his hands in frustration. “But nooo, the world needs Voltron!” Lance dropped onto his mattress with a sigh, “And you don’t even have the guts to tell your own team that you can't-!” His voice lowered, “that you can't even connect to the Blue Lion anymore. That you haven’t heard her since…,”

Since the druids.

“You really screwed it up this time, Lance.” He put his arm over his eyes as he laid on the bed. It felt squishier than he remembered. He’d nearly thrown a fit at how uncomfortable Altean beds were, but still, it felt too soft. Like he was laying on marshmallows, the stuffing swallowing him up.

“And now,” He sighed again and sat up, “You’re so worked up you can’t sleep. Great job on that one.” He was tired from days without sleep, but his brain wouldn’t let him relax, not yet.

Lance considered his options as his eyes flashed around the room. No one would notice if he didn't go to bed right away. They were probably still on the Bridge with Team Punk.

He poked his head out of his door. The hallway was empty. 

Good.

Lance dropped his jacket next to the pillow he’d knocked to the floor and then closed the doors. A short run, a couple laps maybe. Just to tire him out. Get rid of the small ringing in his ears and then he could sleep.

Finally.

He jogged off towards the abandoned sections of the ship. Not even Coran had bothered to clean up the whole castle.

The deserted corridors worked well for running laps, and he picked up speed with each round.

You can make it to 25 laps.

50’s not that far from 25, you can do that much.

That’s only half of a hundred, you can do three quarters, go 75.

He kept reasoning away more laps. First in groups of 25, then in tens, fives; just one more.

One more.

One more.

Keep going.

Always keep going!

Go!

He paused against the wall, leaning on it for support. His breath harsh and rough in the silence.

His limbs felt like jelly, his mind focused itself on making it back to his room.

His vision zoomed in and out of focus as he walked. He might have, just maybe pushed himself a bit too far. Again.

When he made it to his room, the doors had barely shut before he collapsed to the floor. He curled up against the wall, pulling his jacket over him and bunching up the pillow as the lights dimmed automatically.

His mind was quiet with exhaustion as he fell asleep to the hum of the castle’s machinery.

The hum morphed into a buzz, growing louder and more familiar until it sounded more like,... 

Cheering?

Lance looked around, seeing Pidge and Shiro on the floor behind him. They were in a Galra control room. He’d been here before. He knew this room. It was the mission when he’d been-

“It’s the Arena.”

Lance turned to Shiro’s voice. They were looking at a screen. It was footage. A recording of the Arena, his mind told him.

He moved closer, trying to make out the figures fighting.

It was him. 

He was there, on the screen. They could see him fighting. No no no no no. 

No! I don’t want them to see me! I don’t want them to see this! I don't want to see this.

He looked back up, he was in the Arena now. He wasn’t just watching it. His team could see him, they would hate him. 

But then he noticed his opponent.

“Lance! What are you doing!?” Hunk screamed at him. His body moved on its own.

He couldn’t stop it.

“Hunk! Hunk, you have to move! Run! Please!” Hunk dodged, stepping behind him. Lance’s body kept moving, kept attacking his best friend-

No, wait.

It was Pidge. Pidge was behind him when he turned around. And she was crying. No, she was screaming. He couldn’t tell, could barely hear her past his own apologies.

She begged him to stop, but he didn't. 

“Why can’t I control myself!? What’s wrong with me?!”

“Nothing’s wrong with you now, Paladin. I fixed you, remember?” Haggar’s voice reached through his mind. He could see her in front of him, standing there. They were in a dark room, she was hurting him. Torturing him-

He swung at her, but his fist hit Coran. He hurt Coran. Coran was trying to help him. He was with the team, not Haggar. 

How did he forget that?

“No, no no no, I’m so sorry Coran, I thought you were-” Lance reached for him, but he flinched away from him in fear. 

“I thought of you like a son, my boy.”

“Wait, Coran, I didn’t mean-”

“What have you done!?” He turned around to see Allura running at him. Her energy whip in hand. “Why would I ever like you!? You’re not worthy of being a paladin!” She attacked him, his skin burned where her whip hit. He screamed, but now he couldn’t move. He was stuck there, chained, frozen to his spot.

Allura brought down her whip again, and then it was Shiro. It was Shiro’s prosthetic, they were training together. He blocked Shiro’s hit. They were fighting on the castle. But no, no. 

Lance was lying to him.

“How could you do that to me, Lance? How could-”

“I didn’t think-!”

“Exactly! You never think! You don't do anything! Voltron doesn’t need you!” Shiro was walking away from him. Leaving him behind.

“Wait, Shiro! I-” He reached for his shoulder, Keith turned around.

“Lance, why are you doing this!?” Keith fell back against the sand of the Arena, his face bloody. Lance did that. He can’t control himself. “Lance! Please stop!”

“You’ll always come back, Paladin.” Lance could hear Haggar, but he couldn’t see her this time, “It always comes back here.” 

“Lance!” Keith screamed again.

“I can’t- I can’t control- I don’t know-I’m sorry, I’m sorry” His mind screamed against his body, but he kept attacking. “I don't know how to stop this! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so-”

“Lance, get up!” Suddenly, Keith had the upper hand. He was losing. No no no. 

I can’t lose! I can’t lose in the Arena! If I lose-

“Lance!” Keith was on top of him, he was going to die. He had to fight, he couldn't lose; not now, “You’ve got to wake up!” Lance flipped Keith off of him, expecting the spray of sand as Keith hit the ground. 

But the light of the Arena disappeared, it was dark. There was no sand. No blood. No jeering crowd. 

Keith was still below him. 

He looked terrified.

Lance scrambled away, his back hitting the wall. The cells, he was back in the cells. Why was he- How was-

Lights flicked on, illuminating the room. 

His room. On the castle. 

Not the cells. 

He wasn’t there, he was rescued, safe back on the castle. Which meant-

“Keith,” Lance paused, “I’m so sorry.” He dared a glance at Keith. A bit of tension eased from his shoulders at Keith’s face. Clean, not bloody. He was worried and scared, sure, but at least he wasn’t hurt. Not that Lance could tell at least, “Are you okay?”

Keith finally sat all the way up from the floor, “I should be asking you that, Lance.” He reached a hand towards him, Lance pushed himself farther against the wall.

“Did I hurt you?” Keith’s face saddened but he recovered quickly, covering up the pity as he pulled his hand back.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve had the wind knocked out of me before. This one’s on me, I shouldn’t have grabbed your arm like that when you were having a nightmare.”

Oh. It was a nightmare. Bits and pieces flashed through his mind. He cringed internally, a bad one too.

“Why were you sleeping on the floor by the way?” Keith motioned to the wrinkled pillow and his jacket laying on the floor.

He glanced at his mattress, “The bed’s uncomfortable.” He looked to Keith, “Why’d you wake me up?”

“What?” 

“Why are you in here?” Lance stood up and brushed off his pants, “Why’d you wake me up?” 

“Because you were having a nightmare???” Keith twisted a bit as Lance walked past him to get to his jacket.

“God! What is with you people barging into my room because you think I’m having nightmares?” 

Keith jumped up angrily, “The hell does that mean!? What; you want us to just let you suffer like that?!”

“YES!” Lance whipped around to face Keith.

“And why would we do that?! You were obviously in a lot of pain, you were screaming!”

“Maybe! But at least I was asleep!” Lance yelled at him, “This is first I’ve slept since I’ve been back, so who cares if I have a nightmare!”

“We care, Lance!”

“But I don't! Feel my heart right now,” Lance yanked Keith’s hand and pressed it against his chest, “My heart is still pounding, and it’s enough to silence the ringing. I literally have to work myself to exhaustion just to sleep at all!”

“We just want to help you!”

“Well you’re not! I had to figure how to deal with this on my own! And I did. I know what works for me and what doesn't!” Lance jammed his finger at Keith, “And you don't.”

“Because you don’t tell us anything, Lance!” Keith shouted, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re not exactly including us right now! You leave without saying anything! You brush off our questions and you train for hours on end!”

“Oh, and since when did you become Mr. Team Player all of a sudden! Huh? High and Mighty Lone Wolf Keith! You wouldn’t know teamwork if it slapped you upside the head! And you don't know me, you don't know my reasons for doing things. I don't have to explain myself to you, Kogane.”

“No, you don't, but it would be nice if you at least tried!”

“If you’re gonna force me to change, just take me prisoner and make it official.” Lance’s tone dropped dangerously.

“That wasn't what I-” 

Lance shoved past him with his shoulder, “Next time, just don't wake me up.” He stepped out into the hallway, leaving Keith behind as the door closed between them.

Next: https://snaileer.tumblr.com/post/619677648676929536/chips-salsa-chp-6

First: https://snaileer.tumblr.com/post/613092735756402688/chips-and-salsa-chp-1

[hunnybadgerv]

OOH I like those prompts! How about: "I’m in disguise. How do you even recognize me?” Bonus points if it's just a pair of sunglasses and a hat. (But their lover knows every curve, every mannerism, their laugh, et cetera BECAUSE I AM A SAP)

Okay, so once again let me instill the first draft advisory. I got an idea for this last night and finally managed to get something down this morning. It went weird on me last night and it did not at all go the way I was intending. But this is a first draft ... so technically just the skeleton. I’ll tag you again after the revision but hope you enjoy the preview. 

***

A blonde yeoman skimmed past the mass of personnel handling the Normandy’s resupply. A purposeful gait combined with a feigned ease is what captured his attention. Even with her honey gold hair tucked away under a cap and with sunglasses meant to obscure her liquid blue eyes, Kaidan knew that woman anywhere. He’d spent too long following her into hell, and wishing for more chances at the same. The disguise raised questions though.

Why hadn’t she mentioned leaving the ship during the resupply? Was the disguise to get off the ship or to get somewhere else? Where was she going?

“Looks good,” he said rather absently. Handing the data pad off to Cortez, he added, “If you have any issues, reach me on the comms. I’ll be back in a bit.” He, too, slipped out of the cargo bay onto the docks, but he kept his distance.

He trusted Shepard, implicitly, but this type of behavior was something completely unknown to him, and he’d have been lying if he said there wasn’t some sliver of worry in the back of his mind. Of all people, he knew and understood that she was dealing with a lot and fraying under inhuman strain; and he couldn’t help but be concerned about and for her. So, he followed at a distance, contenting himself with the idea that he was only insuring her safety.

The path she took through the Citadel traversed only the open to the public spaces and some of the service tunnels. There his surveillance might have been picked up, but Shepard never showed signs that she knew he was there. When she stepped through a door, he waited a good twenty seconds before following—too much longer and she could have disappeared on him. The door whooshed open to reveal a figure not more than twenty feet from the door, leaning against the half wall there.

Her shoulders drooped and the exhaustion that few people saw in her weighed on her petite frame.

“Surprised you let the door even close,” she said without even looking over her shoulder.

“You snuck out.”

“In disguise,” she replied, glancing at him over her shoulder. The sunglasses came off and were tucked into a pocket on her thigh. “How did you even recognize me?”

He just smiled and laid a hand on his chest as he walked toward her. “Me? You’re asking me? How I knew it was you? Even in a pilfered uniform?” He stopped right behind her, his fingers grazing her jawline. “How could I not have known it was you?”

Her blue eyes blinked up at him like she was waiting for more. “I know you’re walk, spent most of our first tour studying it, to be frank.”

Nyx laughed. “Well, I guess that’s fair. I mean I’ve always had an entirely natural appreciation for the figure you cut in a uniform.”

“Thanks, Commander. Good to know it was the curve of my ass that impressed most.”

Nyx turned away and bumped him in the chest with her shoulder. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Kaidan agreed against her ear as he wrapped his arms around her. “But, seriously, there’s not an inch of you I don’t have memorized.” The admission hurt as much as comforted. “From your walk to the way you set a cap on the rare instances that you wear one.” He pressed a kiss against the corner of her jaw.

Her hands moved over his forearms; fingers threading between his and encouraging him to squeeze her tighter. “I do the same thing,” she admitted. “Try to commit the sound of your heartbeat to memory when I can’t sleep.”

His arms flexed around her again. “I won’t lose you again,” he admitted on the barest whisper.

Her face turned enough to press her cheek against his. “And I refuse to let you walk away without an argument.”

It wasn’t the assurance he needed, but that one wasn’t a promise she could make. He knew it as well as anyone else. The chance they had now wasn’t one either of them could have dreamt of. Even with all the insanity surrounding them, she wasn’t dead. That kind of thing didn’t just happen. He knew the kind of miracle it was for him to have even the chance to see her again, let alone to hold her in his arms.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked, needing a change of subject. He couldn’t think about the end that they both seemed to be racing toward—the one that would rip them apart permanently.

“Just … watching,” she finally breathed out after a long pause. He assumed she’d been looking for a better word. “It’s one of the few areas that Cerberus didn’t manage to tear up too badly. The park was relatively untouched.”

Kaidan let his gaze move to the sight below them. The swaths of lush green grass dotted with flowers in a rainbow of colors grew around and beneath the shady boughs of different trees, almost none of them were native to Earth. But it was a beautiful place. He could read the tension and worry in the stances of some of the parents; some sat on benches leaned forward and pensive, others showed signs of nerves and anxiety playing out in their limbs. The oblivious ones now were the children; they just seemed to revel in the fact that they still had a place to play.

Laughter drifted up toward the two Alliance soldiers.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The words even surprised him.

“What?” she asked. “Not leaving that apartment in Vancouver?” Her words brushed against his cheek.

Kaidan looked down at her, surprised at the revelation.

“All the time. At least until Mars,” she told him. Her fingers slid from between his and he loosened his hold enough to let her turn toward him. “Now I just think about this.” Her fingers grazed his cheek, pulling toward his chin.

He bowed his head, moving with her touch until her lips brushed against his in the lightest way.

“You in my arms,” she said between gentle lingering kisses. “I need you, Kaidan. I can’t do this on my own.”

“You don’t have to,” he swore against her mouth. Their kisses turned desperate, their embrace striving to anchor them to one another. “And I wouldn’t let you.”

Nyx stretched her arms across his shoulders all but pulling herself onto her tip toes. He tried to help her, hugging her waist tight as her face buried against his neck. The tiny tremors in her body gave her away, since she managed to bite back the soft sobs. “I never stopped,” she swore against his skin.

That he knew. Guilt weighed heavy in his gut over it.

“But I tried.” There was shame in her tone when she admitted it. “It would have been easier.”

“You never were one for the easy route, Nyx,” he teased.

Her laugh was equal parts rough and tired. “If I could go back,” she started.

Leaning away from her, Kaidan shook his head. “No. It’s done. Focus on today. Now.”

Her eyes were glassy and clear, the smile that strained her lips soft but it made the blue shimmer all the more.

Brushing his thumb over her cheek, he considered and reconsidered the admission teasing at the tip of his tongue. “I might have thought about it. Us. A family.”

Nyx laid her forehead against the center of his chest. “I still do.”

He let his eyes close as a gentle smile curved his lips, then he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Me, too.”

The rough laugh made her head jump, bashing his bottom lip against his teeth. He groaned, but didn’t pull away too far.

“You okay?”

“Mmm,” he nodded as she smiled up at him.

“Kiss it better?” she teased.

“Yes, please.” His fingers left his mouth and pulled at the edge of her chin. She teased at his bottom lip with gentle kisses, before he couldn’t wait to have more.

[omniswords]

you know what. here goes.

y’all asked, so. here’s that bonus scene for Stumbling Through Heaven, a lukanette Hades & Persephone AU. definitely worth reading that first before diving into this, but hey. you do you, baby. please keep in mind that this is NSFW.

takes place right at the end of part 1.

he says, “ooh, baby girl, don’t get cut on my edges, i’m the king of everything and, oh, my tongue is a weapon.”

Marinette told Luka to bring her death, and so he pulls her in. Or, perhaps, she was the one to do it to him.

He knows little of flesh and nerves; by the time people come to him, they’re withered in the heart, wisps of soul, resigned to all this space underground. Even those who, as the mortals would claim, were taken away at the wrong time, too early for their tastes. (How easily, how frequently they forget that Death’s palate knows no discrimination.) But they are timeless in this world, hungry in the dark, and his queen is cool to his touch. Her flesh, he’s coming to know it, how it gives way under the bite of his nails, how she scrabbles for something to hold onto when his hands catch in her clothes, how her lips still taste of his fruit.

His, his, his. In this world, he has always been king. And should she want to take it by the horns and rule by the flowers in her hair and the pomegranate stains on her tongue, he would more than let her. He said it himself. All of this is hers. All of him is hers.

“Mine,” Marinette sighs into his mouth, drawing his bed curtains around them to close them in, and he lets her. “Mine,” she says again, as though she can’t believe it, and then as though she owns it, and she settles in his lap with a knee on either side of his hips, and he lets her. “All of you is mine.”

“Are you scared?” he asks. His mouth finds her jaw so easily, his hands skimming up her thighs and hiking up her juice-stained robes all the while.

Her eyes meet his in the echo of candlelight, sparkling and wide, wilder and darker than he’s ever seen them, and she smiles, hair disheveled, her neck prime for the claiming, if only she would let him in return. “I have never been afraid of you.”

Luka kisses her, again and again and again, if only to feel her hand twisting in his hair, the impossible softness of her body, the pliant way she arches toward him, seeking something so unfamiliar yet embedded under her skin. He finds the pulse point at her neck, laps at it, nicks it experimentally with his eyeteeth. And when she moans for that first time, the pit of his stomach rumbles and roars, and his skin crawls in suffocation, and he hungers for her, every inch.

“Please me,” she whispers, tipping her head back, and he grabs her by the hips and pulls her close enough to feel him half-aching. He’s never needed a woman in his bed before, and he’ll never need another.

She looks so beautiful underneath him, her eyes glassy and her hair fanned out over his pillows—their pillows—and he kisses as much of her skin as she’ll show him. Her shoulders, her collarbone, the inside of her elbow. He lingers on her fingertips, revels in them for their craft and how they raise gooseflesh on his skin, until she guides his hands to the front folds of her robe and meets his gaze.

“Do it.”

Which of them, would he say, commands Death now?

Luka’s mouth goes dry, and he takes hold, and he rips. He doesn’t hesitate; his mouth searches out everything hiding underneath the frayed edges of her clothes, every scrap of untouched skin, the ridges of her ribs, the pulse of her glittering ichor, the pale pink peaks of her nipples. He could stay there forever, his face buried between her breasts and her hips giving under his grip, if he didn’t have so much to do. If he didn’t have so much more of her to thank for being alive. “You act as though you’ve done all this before,” he says, drunk off the softness of her stomach, his insides begging him to go lower.

Marinette laughs, and it sounds half-hollow. The sort of thing that belongs down here. “I’ve imagined it,” she admits. “Dreamt of you bringing me here. Dreamt of you leading me to bed and taking me.”

His breath hitches. “I don’t take.”

“No,” she hums, evidently pleased with how he pushes her dress up to her waist, “but I’d let you make an exception.”

The scent of her is heady between her legs, floral and musky all at once, but Luka could never do his job properly if he weren’t patient. He teases her, slithers off the bed and pulls her with him until her knees are hooked over his shoulders, until he’s left a litter of bruises on her pale, shaking thighs. “I think you’d take me first,” he murmurs, and he holds her hands down and flattens his tongue to taste her. She tenses in his grasp with that initial contact, and once she falls into a rhythm her body seems to know, she squirms and mewls and all but drives her hips against his face. And the more he drinks her in and kisses her core and sucks at the button between her folds, the less he’d be opposed to being her throne himself.

He wonders, somewhere in all her whimpering pleas, if she must have thought of that, too.

“Luka,” she breathes, trying to tug her wrists free, trembling with all her well-earned greed. “Luka, Luka, My Lord—my god—” She arches off the bed, slick against his mouth and ravenous, desperate in his hold, writhing as her robes spill apart on either side of her. He devours her, slow and greedy, like he’s craved her for centuries instead of for months, until her body is buzzing and her moans bleed into his skin the way only his music ever does, until he’s sure she can see Gabriel, and the sun and the stars can hear her climax at the edges of the world.

Her thighs are still twitching on either side of his head, and he soothes them with open-mouthed kisses and bites, suckling the skin until it turns as purple as the juice that colored their hands and lips. “I have never been anyone’s,” he says, a rasp and a low rumble in his throat, licking softly at her because he can’t bear to be away from her for too long. He drags his mouth over each hipbone, delicately tearing open the rest of her robes as he goes, until she’s sprawled out and naked beneath him. “I’ve never been so happy to be someone’s.”

Marinette’s chest is heaving, perhaps from the dwindling aftershocks, and she yanks him down with her, rolls him right underneath her. Her hair is rippling over her shoulders, all of her soft, pale skin aching to be marked, and her body moves in ripples only his mother could ever control when he dares to claw his nails down her torso and dig them into her hips. “You can be mine,” she whispers, flickers of the soft, tender girl he’s come to know so intimately. “You are mine, and I am yours, and death and life are ours.” Her hands find the cords and pins that keep his pitch-black clothes together, fingers curling tight around them. “Give them to me… give them both to me, and I’ll give them to you, too.”

Luka nods his consent, and his robes unravel under her touch. She barely has to persuade them; they give in to her in seconds, and he’s as bare as she is, his want on display and at attention. Her hands roam over his chest like they’ve been starved of him, and the way her breath hitches and how her gaze drops a little too long aren’t lost on him. “You only have to say so,” he murmurs, pulling her in for a kiss that chases down his spine in waves. They’re so close that he can feel all the wet heat radiating from her sex, and he only has to take her by the hips for him to throb against his abdomen in anticipation. “Say it, and I’ll give it to you.”

“You,” she says, hissing impatiently when she lowers herself to rock against his length. She’s slick and burning, aching to let him in, shaking with the two slender fingers he presses inside to relax her. “Give me you.”

He smiles lazily, running his hands over her, his eyes almost rolling back into his head when she finally sinks down onto him, hot and tight and suffocating. “Marinette,” he hums, growling as low and seductive as the melodies of his lyre. “I gave myself to you a long time ago.”

This is the queen of the Underworld, seated and sweating to the sounds of their breathing, gleaming in the candlelight and wild in the eyes. This is the queen of five rivers, twisting and turning, writhing above him, bracing herself on his body and driving him thrust by careful, curious thrust into their bed. This is his queen of meadows, tender of souls, a breath of flowers among all his grey skies and glittering gems, taking him inch by inch and kissing him eagerly, yelping when he digs his heels and bucks hard into her heat. This is his crown, his blood, his flesh, his wife, his wife, joined to him and snug around him, rolling right back and drawing every moan right out of him, sinking her teeth into his shoulder, whining into the open air and clutching his wrist when he nudges her back by the base of her throat.

This is his life, coming again, soaking at the altar of life and death and twisting the coil in his belly. And he seizes up and spills with his eyes locked on hers, an offering all his own. Her cries ring in his ears and her hips weakly help him along, the feral groan of mine, mine, mine ripping itself from his teeth as their crowns topple from the bedside table to the floor with a dull clatter.

Marinette is still shaking above him and catching her breath as she comes down from her high. She’s gleaming by the light of the candles, her hair curtaining her face and her hands wrapped around his wrist, and she shudders out the rest of her pleasure in the quiet, still fully sheathing him.

“Yours,” she whispers, with his fingertips pressing into her collarbones, and she slumps forward for him to catch her.

“Yours,” he whispers right back, pulling her off of him and holding her close, and he smiles when her soft hands scale his body, when her lips seek out his neck and her nose drifts against his. “Death is yours.”

[justjessame]

A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass Chapter 35:  Feels Like The First Time...Well, If the First Time Happened After Our Kid Popped Out of Me...

Negan led me through our rooms to the kitchen. Once there, he took Kiara from my arms and kissed my forehead. “Go get a long warm bath, princess, I’m gonna get this little doll ready for her sleepover.”

I raised an eyebrow. Sleepovers at six weeks? Shaking my head, I understood that he was trying to give me some down time. A little bit of me time before the we-time. For that reason, I walked over to him, kissed our daughter’s soft head, and brushed my lips against his.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered up to him, and then I made my way to our bedroom, thinking that if he was going to make plans for us, then I’d find my own way to surprise him as well.

I took advantage of my time in the bathroom. I took a long, hot bath, soaking in the water. When I got out, I dried myself and took my hair down. I brushed it out, leaving it down, since I knew how much he loved my hair down. I walked into our bedroom, hearing him fussing with something in the kitchen, I smiled and walked to the dresser. I rummaged until I found a set of the lingerie that he’d filled the drawer with until I came across something that would fit and wouldn’t make me feel stupid.

Red lacy, but with the added function of holding in what I’d like to have held in, while pushing up what I needed pushed up, I had to hand it to my husband. He had interesting taste. Once I had the ribbons and lace in place, I opened up the dress side of my closet. It took less time to find what I could cover Negan’s present up with, and as an added bonus, it was held together with a simple bow. Perfect. And the color of it paired perfectly with my coloring and covered the bright red of the lingerie under it. I grabbed a pair of strappy black heels, with a thick enough heel that was sturdy enough to not make me feel like I was tilting over, and my outfit, and Negan’s gift was complete.

“Callie?” I heard him calling from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready, sweetheart.”

Dinner? That would explain the noises from the kitchen. Negan was going all in on date night. I walked out of our bedroom and to our kitchen carefully. I hadn’t worn heels in far too long and falling asshole over teacups would fucking ruin the image I was trying to create. When I got to the kitchen, I had to smile.

“Spaghetti?” I asked, causing him to look up from a table he’d draped in white, candles in place and hell he even had wine glasses.

Those dimples, those eyes, shit I was done for. “You said you liked my sauce.” Ooh boy, did I. “Come over here, gorgeous.” His eyes were devouring the vision I’d made, from my toes peeking out of the heels to the hair I’d left hanging freely down my back, if eye fucking were real, I’d be a puddle.

When I reached the table, he held out my chair, kissing my cheek as I sat. His hands brushed through my loose hair, pulling it so it hung over the chair back. I took in our plates, he’d recreated our first meal, adding a bottle of brown liquor and a bottle of wine. I was biting my lip when he joined me, waiting to see how far we’d actually make it through dinner before he or I couldn’t take it a moment longer.

Negan sat and offered me a choice between wine and what I realized was whiskey. “Shouldn’t you card me first?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. His answering smirk told me I was pushing my luck, but he knew me and my mouth.

“You sayin’ you’re jailbait, princess?” Ah that deep darkness that I missed so badly.

I smiled down at my plate and picked up my fork. “Don’t think you ever asked me for my age, baby.” I was twirling my pasta around my fork. “Besides, I probably shouldn’t drink-” I was thinking of feeding Kiara, even with the boon of formula they’d found.

He shook his head, and took my hand across the table. “One drink, even that pregnancy book says it’s alright.” My eyes met his. “As for your age, I think I’m more than safe on that one, after all, you’re not fucking wearing the plaid dress.” He winked and I had to laugh.

“Got me there,” I answered, linking our fingers. “Wine, I guess, never had much of a taste for it, but pretty fucking sure that the whiskey would kill me.”

I had a glass of wine, and Negan took a tumbler of whiskey. Our hands parted as we dug into the dinner he’d prepared. We talked, returning to the easy way we’d had before the baby came, the same way we did after she arrived, the way we’d talk to one another until the day we died. I was laughing, feeling a little looser once my glass was empty and noticed our plates were empty. How was it that this man could distract me enough that I rarely noticed what I’d eaten, or drank?

“Looks like dinner’s over.” I offered, glancing up at my husband taking his final swig of whiskey. “What did you have planned for the rest of the night, Negan?” My voice was quiet, daring him.

He sat his tumbler carefully on the table top. “I thought I might unwrap my gift.” I smiled, so he’d noticed. “Unless you’ve got something else in mind, Callie?” Ah, a challenge returned.

I stood and sauntered to where he sat across from me. Like magic, he pushed his chair away from the table and my grin grew. What an eager man. I let my hand reach out and traced his face and lips with my fingertip. “It’s been six weeks,” I moved closer, stepping between his legs when he parted them. “Six LONG weeks, Negan.” I heard the air rush from him when I sunk to my knees. “Guess I’m still a little thirsty.”

My hands went to work on his belt, button, and zipper, as his mouth crashed down on mine. God, I missed this. Him, that mouth, and as my hands met his hardness, definitely this. I pulled away from his kiss and pushed him back against the chair-back. “Relax, baby.” His hands slid through my hair and I smiled up at him as I finally got to take him back into my mouth.

I took my time, enjoying him in the way that he’d enjoyed me this morning. Dear Lord, the taste of him on my tongue was far better than the wine, or the taste of whiskey on his mouth, more intoxicating. Those long fingers of his covered my scalp, guiding me to where he wanted me most, but also holding me carefully, reverently. Before I was given my due, he pulled me gently away, eyes blazing.

“Not yet, princess.” And then I was in his arms, straddling him on his chair as he kissed the very breath from me. He groaned, his mouth leaving mine to trail down my cheek to my neck where he nuzzled against me. “Fuck, I’m conflicted.”

Licking my lips, I fought against rocking against him, thinking if he were that fucking close I’d rather not waste it. “Why?” I was still breathless.

“Part of me wants to tug that bow and open my present right fucking here and now,” I nodded, liking that idea fucking a lot. “Another part of me wants to wait until we get to that fucking bed where I can spread you out and open you up exactly the way I love to.” Jesus, maybe door two wasn’t such a bad fucking idea.

I felt one of his hands leave my back and then he tugged pulled from below me. And then he stood, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. I saw over his shoulder his abandoned jeans, boots, and underwear and nearly laughed. Nearly because that was when his mouth met my shoulder and I felt his teeth grazing my skin. Fuck. My hands went to his head, holding his face to my skin, wanting to feel more.

And then we were in our room and I was back on my feet in front of him. Before his hand could reach for the tie holding my dress on, I tugged his t-shirt up and over his head. Naked Negan was something I would never get enough of seeing, or enjoying. He smiled as his hand finally reached out and slowly pulled the bow free. As my dress parted, I watched his eyes drink in the present that I’d wrapped so carefully for him and I heard him inhale through his nose, and his free hand clench.

That’s the very last thing I noticed, because he had me on the bed in no time flat. And my legs were wrapped around his hips, he was deep inside of me and I felt what I’d always feel with him. The overwhelming feeling of being home, of pleasure, of power and HIM.

 Negan’s date night was amazing. Until I had to remind him of a reality that I think he’d pushed out of his mind. The fact that we weren’t going to be able to finish our lovemaking in the same amazing way we normally would. I wasn’t prepared to go through childbirth again so soon, and he most certainly wasn't willing to go another six weeks without me, so I had to negotiate with him in a way that most men may have once dreamed for.

“Negan?” I was whispering in his ear as he was climbing toward his own release, a feeling I knew well from our months together. “Baby, you know you can’t-”

He growled, pulling his head away from where he’d buried it in my shoulder, still thrusting toward that final goal. His eyes locked on mine, almost daring me to stop him.

“Sweetheart,” I tried, my hands cupping his face, not stopping the delicious feeling of him sliding through me. “Think back to your favorite porn movie.” His eyes widened. “Where would you rather? Skin or mouth?” And his eyes closed as he moaned at the mere thought of it. “Your fantasy, baby, just not the usual one.”

 Later, wrapped around one another in an entirely different, yet still intimate way, I felt him laugh silently. Looking up, his eyes met mine and he stopped trying to hide the sound. I shook my head. “You gonna share the joke?”

“You.” I raised an eyebrow. “Not YOU, but when you had to tell me that we couldn’t,” his laughter came again. “Shit, telling me to think about porn and then pick nearly ruined your whole fucking problem, baby.”

I giggled. “I forgot,” I said, cupping his face with my hand. “I meant to bring it up earlier, but then-”

“Distracted,” he leaned forward and kissed me. “We were pretty fucking distracted.”

“You know you have another choice?” I offered, feeling butterflies in my stomach at the thought of how final this other choice would be.

His raised eyebrow was all I got to continue. “Vasectomy.” One word and I could swear ALL the air left the room.

“You want that fucking quack downstairs to come near my fucking cock and balls with a scalpel?” I bit my lip, he wasn’t screaming, it was a quiet roar. “Do you only want one kid?” And the hurt that came after was more upsetting to me than the first.

“I didn’t say that, Negan.” I answered, pulling the sheets up around me and rolling onto my own pillow. “I just thought I should say it’s an option.”

“A fucking horrible option.” He answered, tugging me off my pillow and back onto his chest. “We’ve been apart enough, Callie, don’t fucking make my head explode.” His lips met my forehead. “I like the porn option.”

I chuckled. “Good, because I don’t hate it, either.”

[kinomiakai]

i know it's a lot to ask but i'm very sad at the moment and don't know how to handle it - and i have birthday on the 9th august. would it be possible to get a (vampire) one shot from you? it would be so great but i understand if that's too much to ask for. ahh its a dumb thing to ask but it would make me very happy so i wanted to try sorry!!!

    Sasuke was tired.

    Not because of the night classes—no, he was pretty well-suited to those. He’d been nocturnal for as long as he could remember. And what they were doing wasn’t particularly challenging—just some poses, and Sasuke was acquainted well enough with the human body. It was nice to look at, Sasuke thought, and he liked to spend the time to learn all the different shapes that people could be. He liked to spend the time to look at them. There wasn’t much that made him feel motivated, nowadays, and it was hard enough for him to live on the schedule he’d come to have as it was. This was the first hobby he’d managed to have since…well, it was the only one he had now.

    So—no, Sasuke wasn’t tired from class.

    He sighed again, forcing himself to move on for once. He’d spent thirty of the last forty minutes drawing and redrawing the model’s neck, over and over again. He already had a tendency to do that, and he was trying to learn not to. Everyone else had managed a full…

    “Alright, that’s it for today!”

    Crap.

    Sasuke sighed, and packed his things into his small, well-worn bag. He’d quit his job last week—or, well, they’d politely asked him to get the hell out of there once his I.D. had finally fell through. He’d very much appreciated the dim lights of the bar, especially alongside the added bonus of drunk, half-conscious people, but Sasuke had been starting to think the constant alcohol was getting to him. It tasted worse from them. Easier to get, though, and he didn’t have to hurt anyone too badly to get it, but he tended to need…more of it.

    He hadn’t liked that.

    Of course, now, he didn’t have that option as accessible. It was still there. He could still do it—still prowl the streets to look for easy targets and stifle the part of his mind that hated every second of it. It was a last resort, though, which is why he was so…

Tired. 

Tired and hungry and a little bit dizzy, and staring at a naked man’s neck for the past three hours really hadn’t helped. Go figure.

    He put his hood up and slipped through the door, keeping an eye on the ways everyone went—groups of three, four, five, six—one person there? No, a couple. Shit. 

    Sasuke leaned against the wall and pulled out his phone—which he’d naively continued to pay for, with the little money that he had, in spite of having a grand total of zero numbers to call—pretending to scroll his way through some screen or another. There were still a few students left in the class, so with just a bit of luck—

    A body breezed past him, tucking two earbuds in. Good sign. A casual jacket hung off his shoulders, left unzipped—no necklaces to watch out for, either. Sasuke watched as the man walked a few more lazy steps, staring down as his phone as if picking a song, before promptly turning down the alleyway Sasuke had had his eye on for weeks.

    Alright, then. The blond it was.

    Sasuke pushed himself off the wall and imitated his own slow, distracted walk. He turned his phone screen off as he continued to stare down at it, letting his eyes get used to the night again—it took longer when he was tired, when he was like this, and he only had about another two minutes before the two of them would be back in the public eye again—he sped up his pace. He had almost mastered getting to them before they could notice—

    “Wh—hey, the fuck are you—”

    Shit. Sasuke was sloppy and stupid and the man wrenched his shoulder from Sasuke’s grip as soon as he’d felt the heat of his skin at his lips—Sasuke grabbed at him but only caught his jacket—the man spun around with a punch that Sasuke would have dodged if not for the jacket wrenching him in—

    His nose would have bled, if he’d had enough blood left. As it was, he was dizzy and desperate and too far in to—

    The man pinned Sasuke to the wall with his forearm, keys in his other hand. And a swiss army knife? For god’s sake. Of all the—

    “Picked the wrong person to…what the hell?”

    The man flinched back. Whether it was Sasuke’s eyes or his fangs that did the trick, he didn’t know. At least he hadn’t stabbed him, though.

    Still—

    “The hell’s wrong with your eyes?” the man asked, eyes wide, brow furrowed, knife in his hand.

    “Probably the same that’s wrong with your brain, moron,” Sasuke snapped, sliding down the wall. He’d barely had the fight in him for that, and now his nose fucking hurt on top of it all. He felt slow and exhausted and fuck this—

    “Wh—you—I’m the moron?! I just kicked your ass!”

    “And you’re sticking around to find out what happens next?” Sasuke spat, pulling his hood back up. “Get out of here.”

    Sasuke closed his eyes.

    “I’m not going to turn my back so you can get another go, you know. I’m not stupid.”

    “Great,” Sasuke said, tucking his head between his legs. “Stay here forever then.”

    The pain pulsed between Sasuke’s eyes—in time with his consciousness, waving in and out. He’d been spacing out and losing his vision and—

    “Are you…okay?”

    Sasuke looked up, incredulous.

    “Are you serious?”

    “Well I’m not gonna let you die here—I’ll—there’s a hospital near here—”

    “I don’t need a hospital,” Sasuke snapped, “either kill me or leave.”

    There was a pause.

    Sasuke closed his eyes again.

    “What were you going to do to me?”

    Oh, for god’s sake.

    “What do you think, genius?” Sasuke asked, keeping his eyes closed. Maybe if he just fell asleep…

    “You—come on. There’s no way.”

    “You’re right,” Sasuke said. “There’s no way. So you should leave before the unhinged lunatic wakes up again.”

    “…Is the unhinged lunatic going to wake up again if I leave?”

    Sasuke opened his eyes only to glare.

    “Your eyes are back to normal,” said the blond, knife still in his hand.

    “And yet your brain remains firmly rooted in insanity. Leave me alone.”

    “I’m serious,” the blond said, stepping forwards—and Sasuke flinched back, hitting his head to the wall, as the knife moved closer, “I—oh, shit, no, I’m not gonna—I mean I—”

    The man’s mouth opened and closed, as if trying to decide whether to appease Sasuke’s delicate sensibilities, or continue to defend himself from an obvious threat.

    “You know I attacked you, right?”

    The blond continued to watch him.

    “You don’t look too happy about it.”

    Sasuke rolled his eyes.

    “Yes,” he drawled. “It ended rather differently than intended.”

    The man’s head inclined to the side, as if he was scanning Sasuke for something—

    “I would have expected you to run,” he said, “after I—y’know—pulled a knife on you and all that.”

    Sasuke didn’t reply.

    “You can’t run, can you?”

    Sasuke didn’t reply.

    “Can you even stand?”

    “Are you getting off on this?” Sasuke snapped, the wave of anger making him feel even more light-headed than before. “Leave.”

    The man crouched in front of him. Sasuke flinched back.

    “Hey,” he said, reaching out an empty hand. “Make your eyes do the thing again.”

    Sasuke stared at him. The man’s wrist came closer. And he could hear the blood humming under his skin, feel the heat of it, he—

    “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said quickly, desperately—

    “Hey,” said the guy, “they do glow. Cool.”

    “You’re insane,” Sasuke breathed.

    “I’ve still got a knife and I’m not gonna let you die. I save your life and you won’t turn me into one, yeah?”

    “I have no idea how to even do—are you—” Sasuke stared at him, “are you serious?”

    The man waved his wrist in front of his face—Sasuke snatched it out of the air before he even had another thought.

    “Ooh, fangs too—wh—o-oh…”

    Finally. Finally. Sasuke nearly collapsed with relief—he fell forwards, clutching the wrist to his mouth, groaning into the warmth—god, he’d been so—

    “Okay—that’s—that’s enough. That’s—”

    Sasuke let out a small half-strangled noise as the wrist pulled itself away. As the man pulled his wrist away, fuck, it was like he lost it in moments like this—

    “That’s—I mean, uh, was that enough…?”

    The haze in Sasuke’s mind slowly, slowly cleared.

    “I…” he said, staring up into the blue eyes he hadn’t even noticed before—and the marks, on his cheeks, oh— “oh. You’re the one who’s always in class.” 

    The blond pulled back.

    “Wh—yeah, ‘cause my dad owns the place—that’s the thanks I get for saving your life?”

    The man waved his wrist in the air and stared Sasuke down expectantly. 

    The corner of Sasuke’s lip twitched.

    “…Thanks,” he said finally. 

    “That’s better. S’weird though,” he said, bringing his hand back to him, “it didn’t hurt at all. I barely felt anything.”

    Sasuke let out a breath, feeling the weight in his body slowly, slowly draining out of him. He hadn’t felt that bad since he’d woken up.

    “That’s the general idea,” he said quietly. At least, he thought it was. He hadn’t gotten good enough to pick the arteries from the veins, but he’d at least minimized his impact as much as possible…when he wasn’t entirely desperate. “You should go.”

    “Hm?”

    “You’re going to be light-headed for a while. Go make it home.”

    “Oh—well—yeah, I’ve donated blood before, I know that. Are you gonna be—?”

    Sasuke snorted and shoved himself off the filthy (and wet, ugh, he hadn’t noticed it had been wet) floor.

    “I’m fine,” he said, giving the blond a challenging look. In debt or not, Sasuke was dangerous. Surely the man knew that.

    “Hey—can I see your teeth again?”

    What the hell—

    “You have the self-preservation of an opossum in the middle of a road.”

   The man laughed and moved closer.

   “Yeah, I’m a real dumbass—my friends tell me all the time. Open your mouth—lemmie see.”

   He moved closer, and—

   “Oi—you—” Sasuke said, flinching back, “get your hands out of my mouth—”

   “Ooh, they are kinda sharper, aren’t they? Not as much as when you bit me, but—”

   “They will be in a second if you don’t stop shoving your fingers at them—”

   That did the trick, and Sasuke stared him down with a significantly sharper gaze. Just because he was satiated didn’t mean he was full, and this idiot was waving himself in front of him like a—

   “Oh,” the man said, staring at him as if— “you’re scared you’re actually going to hurt me.”

   “Wave a steak in front of a rabid dog and see how it ends for you.”

   The man’s head tilted to the side, watching him with eyes that seemed too serious for that smile—

   “You don’t seem too rabid to me.”

   “I just,” Sasuke started, speaking slowly as if explaining something to a small child, “drank your blood. As food. With my mouth. I attacked you about two minutes prior to—”

   “And you let me win. You could’ve bit me anywhere—I only punched you once and you backed off.”

   “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

   “Yeah, you were,” the man said, “you were making sure you didn’t hurt me. You didn’t want to do it unless you knew I’d survive.”

   Sasuke glared at him. Fine. Fine, yes, he was utterly terrified one day that he’d completely lose himself, and he’d spent more than a few hours in a night making sure every person he knocked down could get back up again—

   “Fine,” Sasuke said, clenching his teeth together. “You’re right. Are you going to let me go, now?”

   “What am I, holding you hostage? You can go any time.”

   “You had a knife.”

“Still do, actually,” the man said, flicking it into his hand only to fold it away, “so don’t try anything, vampire.”

   Sasuke rolled his eyes.

   “Hey,” said the blond, “wanna help me find the headphones you so rudely ripped out of my ears?”

   He stuck the keychain into his pocket and shot Sasuke a wide, innocent grin. Sasuke sighed, but let his eyes flicker to life again, just for a moment—

   “They’re over there.” Sasuke nodded at them.

   “Aw, fuck that’s cool,” the man said, trotting over to unabashedly grab at the disgusting floor. “What else can you do? You got like—super speed or something? Do you age? Wh—I feel like we would’ve noticed if you had no reflection in class—”

   “That’s only a thing if the mirror is laced with silver, idiot.”

   The man’s mouth made a small ‘o’ shape. Sasuke’s lips twitched again.

   “And, uh, if it is?”

   “I don’t know,” Sasuke said. “I’ve never found one where I know that’s the case.”

   “Huh,” he said, “don’t you guys have like—a coven or some shit to teach you this stuff?”

   Sasuke’s good mood faltered. (He hadn’t known he was in one.)

   “None of your business. I’m leaving.”

   Sasuke turned on his heel, walking back the way he’d come. He’d be fine for at least a few days, now—and he really needed to find a new job before he was kicked back the gym membership he’d called rent—

   “See you next week, vampire!”

   Sasuke flipped him off.

    And he’d have to find a new hobby.

[lovehelpmewrite]

A Girl Like Mine

Title: A Girl Like Mine

Pairing: Pat Murray x reader

Word count: 1.7k (wow sorry I got carried away)

Summary: After the D-Backs win their first game of the season they decide to go to a diner nearby to celebrate. You and Pat celebrate a little... differently.

Warnings: mad smut, thigh riding, public orgasm, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool guys)

[A/N]: Uhhh wow hi so I don’t normally write or publish smut but @o-holynight really hyped me up and kept me thinking about Joe and Pat and their fucking h a n d s so I just wanna say that if it hadn’t been for you I wouldn’t have been able to finish this so thank you sofuckingmuch. Anyway, please enjoy this: the smuttiest thing I’ve written for Pat yet. (Also, this was the post that inspired this even though I didn’t follow it exactly).

I laughed with all the guys as they cheered while we entered the little diner. The D-Backs had won a game for the first time this season, 5-3, and they were ecstatic. Rightly so, they’d played amazing right to the 7th inning. 

I let out a surprised laugh as Pat came up behind me, spinning me around for the nth time since the game had ended, my sundress twirling around us merrily.

“We fucking won, baby! They didn’t have a fuckin’ chance!” He yelled excitedly. The rest of the boys yelled back in agreement. 

“You guys did so good, Pat! Whooped their punk asses right to the outfield!” 

Pat laughed and pulled me close, his hands resting on the sides of my neck as he pressed a passionate kiss to my lips. I sighed into the kiss, feeding off of all his adrenaline and feeling my heart race. When the rest of the team started wolf whistles and “ooh’s” and “aah’s” Pat pulled back and flipped them off, still keeping his face close to mine. 

His pupils were dilated and his eyes held a look I knew all too well.

“Can’t wait to get you home, celebrate our own way,” he said lowly, pressing one last chaste kiss to my lips before pulling back.

I was glad the diner was empty save for the D-Backs and even more glad they were completely distracted by ordering from the waitresses that lingered around. If they hadn’t been they surely would have seen the heat that climbed up my neck in semi-embarrassment, semi-arousal.

Somehow most of us crammed into the largest booth--which still wasn’t very big--in the back of the diner, managing only by having Barone’s girlfriend, Mary, Ty’s girlfriend, Michelle, and I all sitting on their respective laps. Even then, Dells, David, and Palacco sat at the surrounding booths, kneeling on the vintage vinyl and looking over the back to stay in the conversation.

I felt slightly bad for the staff, as the guys all talked loudly and laughed and ate and ate and ate. The thought quickly left my mind though, getting swept back up in the energy of all of them once more.

I laughed as Michelle reached back and smacked Palacco for some comment I barely heard, shifting in Pat’s lap as the motion moved me so I was essentially sitting on one of his legs. When I went to shift back Pat’s hands came up to grip tightly at my hips, holding me in place.

“Are you trying to start something?” He asked, warm air blowing over my neck and making me shiver. 

Feeling daring, I slid my hips back ever so slowly until I could feel his erection pressing up against my ass hotly. Pat let out a slow breath, pressing his forehead into the back of my shoulder. I turned my head back toward Garvey, David, Dells, and Zapata, who were in a heated debate about how to throw some specific kind of pitch. 

Of course, I was barely listening to them, instead, I was carefully sliding my clothed core over Pat’s thigh, biting my tongue sharply to control my breathing and my face. His fingers still pressed tightly into my skin, helping consistently drag my cover slit across the fabric of his baseball pants. I jumped a little when he started shaking his leg under me, the slow burn in my stomach quickly growing warmer, tighter, and more intense.

I gave a strained laugh as Zapata took a jab at Garvey, trying to focus on the conversation and the delicious way Pat was pushing me down on his thigh, my orgasm growing imminent with each pass of my clit against his thigh.

“How close?” Pat breathed across my neck, his voice low and tight.

“Very,” I mumbled back, a quiet whine escaping me with a series of heaving breaths as my orgasm got nearer and nearer to cresting.

“Let go baby, fuck, let go,” Pat practically groaned, lightly sucking and licking over the side of my neck.

I sucked in a breath as Pat slowly pushed my hips forward one last time, my orgasm was drawn out as I continued to move along his thigh. My eyes closed and my eyebrows creasing up slightly while a stuttering breath worked out of my throat, my lips slightly parted while I tried to stay grounded even as my mind felt 100 miles above in the atmosphere. 

I was slowly brought back as Pat’s hands wrapped over mine, relaxing my clenched knuckles in my lap as his lips left gentle kisses over my neck and shoulder comfortingly.

“So good for me, so fucking good,” he praised. 

I slumped back against him, letting my head drop back to rest on his shoulder. He took the opportunity to kiss my cheek sweetly making me smile in my post-orgasm haze. I turned my head slightly to watch his eyes which glinted with something mischievous as he watched me in return. Suddenly he bounced his leg again, making me let out a choked gasp, my already hypersensitive clit aching at the sensation. I bit my lip and picked my head up from his shoulder, looking around at all the boys again.

“Alright boys, I gotta go to the bathroom, scoot out,” I instructed loudly, waiting patiently as they filed out of the one side to let me slide out. I bit my lip as I chanced a glance back at Pat’s lap, seeing a barely noticeable wet patch on his thigh. 

I tried to hide my blush and the shaking of my wobbling legs even as I took a turn and entered something very obviously not the bathroom. It seemed to be some sort of little laundry room, a stacked washer and dryer filling up one half of the small room while some bottles of detergent and towels sat in a little alcove by the door. 

Finally, the door opened and closed quickly, Pat turning and heatedly pressing himself against me. Automatically, my arms wrapped up around his shoulders, holding him close to me as he rutted his erection against me. I reached a hand down, mercifully palming him through his pants. He let out a borderline pornographic groan against my lips, his breaths blowing haltingly over my mouth.

“Feel good?” I questioned quietly.

He gave a low whine, eyes closing as he nodded, my thumb running teasingly over the head of his cock through his pants.

“So fucking good, baby,” he answered, dropping his forehead to rest on my shoulder as I deftly popped the button on his pants and slid my hand inside.

“Ohhh god. Fuck, Y/N,” he rasped, his fingers wrapping tightly around my waist as my fingers surrounded his heated length. His hips jerked forward, fucking himself in my hands for a few seconds before he pulled back and pressed another passionate kiss against my lips.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he stated, hurriedly sliding his pants down his legs and moving to pick me up by my thighs. I nodded eagerly, wrapping my legs around his waist and watching as he pulled my underwear to the side and slid into me easily.

We both groaned at the sensation, taking a second to breathe and adjust. I bit back a moan as he shifted on his legs, sliding out of me slightly and creating delicious friction that sent shocks up my spine.

“Pat, please fucking move,” I begged, gripping onto his shoulders. He nodded rather than spoke, looking down to watch himself slide out of me only to slide back in. 

He pulled out slowly again and then looked up to my face before slamming his hips back into mine roughly. 

I keened for him, my fingers sliding up to pull at the short hairs at the back of his neck. 

He quickly set a brutal pace, the muted sound of skin against skin echoing in the small room, covered only by our loud breathy half-moans. 

“Gonna cum, Y/N, gonna fill you up,” Pat groaned, sucking harshly against my pulse point. 

I just moaned lowly in response, clenching around him at the idea of his cum filling me. His thrusts got shorter and quicker as he got closer, his breath hoarse next to my ear. 

“Cum for me Pat,” I encouraged just as my second orgasm began to wash over me.

His hips stuttered once more before the feeling of my clenching around him drew out his own orgasm. He plunged even deeper in me, warmth seeping through me as he emptied his cum into me. 

For a minute we just stayed there, his soft cock still sitting inside me, holding in his cum while we both gasped for breath. Finally, he pulled out of me slowly, wincing at the sensitivity before helping set me down on shaky legs. 

I readjusted my underwear carefully, almost sickly satisfied at the sensation of Pat’s cum slowly leaking out of me into my panties.

Pat pulled up his pants roughly before pulling me into him and kissing me once more, this time softer, slower. When we pulled back he lingered, resting his forehead against mine.

“You okay?” he asked, eyes earnest, smile sweet.

“With you, Pat?” I returned, biting my lip before leaning forward and pressing another lingering kiss to his lips before answering.

“Always.”

* Bonus ending *

Pat led the way out of the laundry closet, his hand gently holding mine while I trailed behind him. I stared at the back of his jersey, at the lifting edges of his ‘15′ while he tried to lead us out of the diner inconspicuously. I thought we were going to make it originally, they all seemed too engaged in their conversations to spare us a glace as we passed. I should have known better.

“’ay Murray,” Ty called just as Pat’s hand touched the door.

He turned his head, letting me semi-hide behind his shoulders while he waited for Ty to finish. All of the other boys had also gone quiet upon their notice of us trying to leave.

“Next time maybe wait until your whole team isn’t sitting 20 feet away, huh?” Ty grinned. They all chuckled and whispered in response, some encouraging, some teasing.

Pat laughed and looked down a moment before answering.

“When you’ve got a girl like mine, Ty, you don’t wait.”

[tarithenurse]

On my Mind, in my Soul - 2

Pairing: Loki x burglar!Reader Contents: Cussing, a bit of violence, some angsting and pining, lemons...and lots of them. Consider yourself warned if you’re underage. A/N: Didn’t plan for the first part to actually be a first part. I’d planned it as a one-shot based on @maladaptive-ninja-returns‘s 3 “prompts”...but then it was nicely recieved and I chatted with them again and we had some fun ideas...so here’s part 2. This time the 3 things have been provided with a sister (who was rather confused as to why I was asking...but it did result in us watching the Bridge of Death sequence from Monty Python and the Holy Grail). Anyhoodles, the things were Earrings. Green. And the song “Put your Records on” by CB Rae. Lyric bits are marked as block quotes.

Challenge

Music’s playing in your ears as you make your way slowly through the museum, keeping the perfect distance to make it seem to the tour guide as though you’re part of the group while to them (a class of history students and their teacher) you’re just some random guest that happens to be going at the same pace. The map of the place in your hand is filled with thin lines by now, indicating camera angles and “alternative” routes.

“And over here we have a temporary collection on loan from London…” the voice of the guide announces through a lull in the song.

He’s beaming proudly as the class oohs and aahs at the glittery reflection of the ornate Crown Jewels. Amateurs. Sure, the lineup of necklaces and crowns looks impressive, but the main items are merely very good replicas made to satisfy the curiosity of people who can’t make it to the Tower of London – the real deal’s safely stored there, only to be removed on special occasions when the queen and her family actually uses it.

However, some of the less impressive items are not fakes. Taking a place before a display case, your eyes fall upon a comparatively drab pair of earrings. Fat, pinkish pearls dangle from golden drops and ovals with a multitude of tiny, white gemstones. Yuck. There are tastier ways of showing off wealth in your opinion, but you also understand that sometimes it’s not about having style per se, rather about flaunting that you can have anything. What in your eyes might be ugly (or at the best of cases kitsch) is probably a blatant show of power because deep down humans are simple creatures that understand a simple language: rarity equals wealth and wealth in turn equals power. And those earrings are rare, no one in their right mind would make more than a single pair.

So why those? Simple. You got a job and the buyer was smart enough to wrap it in a dare, claiming no one could get their hands on that set of pearls. To top the whole deal off, the guy’s willing to do wire transfer but a cash bonus if the job’s completed within a month.

You have to hide a smile as you tug the map and pencil into your purse, slipping your phone out for a moment to skip a tune in the hopes of the shuffle finding something more celebratory for the way out of the museum.

It takes a few tries before you succeed, meaning you’re already back in the grand room by the time you return the device to safety and your fingers brush against something unexpected, causing you to pause in your tracks and glance around, but no one stands out in the crowd of tourists and other visitors. One peek into the depths of the purse’s enough to grant a view of an envelope made of special paper. Or parchment? A cold shudder runs down your spine upon realisation that someone must have gotten close enough to slip it in there although you always keep the damn bag close to your body, even tugged under the arm. Whoever it is…they are good. Too good. It’s as if every camera’s trained on you, like each and every single person’s watching even the smallest movement you make, sending prickly waves of tension to the back of your legs while every hair stands on end.

Forcing yourself to move slowly, you leave the museum. Following the most crowded routes home, you only check for followers a million times. Discreetly, of course, despite the increasing frustration of spotting no one in pursuit or out of place (as much as anyone can look that in New York) not even when walking five times around the block before finally letting yourself into your little flat.

It almost feels safe as the deadbolt clicks into place and you allow yourself to slide onto the floor. Deep breaths tasting of curry from last night’s dinner and book dust helps ground you enough to stop your hands from shaking by the time they pull out the envelope. Turning it around and around, you have to admire the cottonlike quality of the paper and the clearly manually cut edges that shout craftmanship to the heavens. The sender is loaded or makes his own paper.

By the table under the glaring light of a lamp, it’s obvious that the person hasn’t left any other clues on the outside of the envelope, forcing you to open it after a careful examination to avoid any hidden nuisances. You’re holding your breath as you peer into the folds, spotting a photograph which you shake out. What the…?

Trying to pretend that the image’s taken months ago is futile, but still you hurry to the kitchen and slam down on your knees by the cabinet under the sink so hard that you bounce painfully on the linoleum. It doesn’t delay you. Eyes sting with pain as you pull the contents out, scattering the bucket with cleaning agents across the floor. You slam a fist onto a loose board to tip it up, revealing the front of a safe nestled among insulation and rubble. Five beeps and a fingerprint are all it takes for your worry to be proven right.

“Fucking! Alien! Pissflap!” Each exclamation’s punctuated by punches to the cabinet door.

At first glance, the contents could appear to be exactly the way you left them this morning…but the Tiger’s Eye Pendant’s missing.

Maybe sometimes we got it wrong, but it's all right The more things seems to change, the more they stay the same

…

Making the right call can be hard in the heat of the moment, but you managed. More than a week since you’ve been burgled and your thoughts stray all too often to the future and the plans it holds to right the wrong, the only consolation being that the job you have to finish first will be a means to that very end.

Hanging upside down from the skylight, each movement has to be perfectly controlled to stay out of the camera’s view until you’ve reached it and slipped the screen before it. It had taken several tries to get the image just right, but the result was close to perfection. Close enough to get me some minutes. That’s all you need.

Moments later, you’re on the floor. Harness and rope still attached for a quick escape as you work through the hollow pedestal because gods know you’ll be screwed if you disturb the glass encasing the exhibition. Each movement tugs at the restraining tether and gnaws at your skin. You reach carefully through wires for the sensors and lights, the Stark “knife” tugged gingerly away in the palm with nothing but a rubber sleeve to prevent bloodshed. Gloves? Of course you wear them, not only preventing fingerprints but granting a safe grip. Without them your hands would have been slippery with sweat and even now there are a few drops running down your spine before they get soaked up in the top. There. You breathe in deeply a couple of times before unsheathing the knife and cutting through the plate where the loot’s resting. No normal knife would be able to do it and getting this tool had been expensive…but so worth it!

A few more breaths, then you can pack away the fugly earrings and your gear. Just in time, too, as you already can hear the night guard approaching. It’s with a minimal thought of remorse that you ascend, the gears whirring softly as you speed towards the fresh night air.

…

There’s a market for everything whether it’s illegally obtained tools or perfectly made replicas. Studying the simile glinting in the hand, you know that even Loki will have to look carefully to detect the fraud…especially after you’ve added the finishing touch on the back of the pendant.

Part of the bonus has been spent on that piece of work while the rest has gone into setting up your safehouse for a longer stay. You still come and go from your usual apartment, ensuring the façade of a student living there, but everything important has slowly been moved to the other side of upper Manhattan and after the last security measures the place’s close to impenetrable. And impossible to find.

Crouched by the coffee table, you go through the last plans. The private guards’ rounds must have been shuffled, of course, and will take a couple of stake outs to learn. Next, you’re certain that the Asgardian snob must have improved the locks on windows and doors as a pure minimum, leaving a reduced list of access points for a human to use. Question is if he’s considered something like a drone.

…

Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song You go ahead, let your hair down Sapphire and faded jeans I hope you get your dreams

The cool air dries the tip of your tongue, but you’re too engrossed in navigating the toy through the chimney to care. Each foot of the descend brings it closer to the smoldering ashes and the thing can only handle a certain amount of heat what with all the plastic components, so as soon as it slips out from the fireplace, you heave a sigh of relief. Now comes the hard part. Orienting yourself through the little screen, the drone whirrs along corridors and through grand rooms in search of a safe entryway fitting a woman. Patiently, you ignore the shingles of the roof radiating cold into your muscles as the minutes tick by until you strike gold in the form of a bathroom window. It’s narrow but not impossibly so and you can’t help but laugh quietly to yourself as you use the flying robot to unlatch it and push it open wide.

Slipping in is simple enough, you only hesitate as you land on the marble floor because you hadn’t expected the dampness of the air. Every hard, cool surface’s laced with a fine condensation, but running a hand over the faucets gives a sense of relief that whoever has showered or bathed must have done this a while ago. It’s disconcerting though. Loki supposedly has a private bathroom en suite with his bedroom, so who would use this? There’s no hamper with laundry, no dirty towels or soaps that have been used. Nothing personal. Perhaps he’s got visitors? It’d surprise you. In fact, you’re almost willing to bet that an employee’s taken the liberty of using the facilities but either way, it doesn’t change the plan.

Silently slipping through the door, you know where to go and within minutes have the display in view from a position in a shadowy corner. There’s still a guard lingering, seemingly taking an interest in a set of blueish daggers. Move…come on…you want to finish the round and get some coffee. Silently willing him on results in absolutely nothing and you can feel anxiousness prickle your back and force you shoulders upwards and forwards. Tomorrow, you’ll need to find a massage therapist to knead the tensions away.

Finally, after agonizing minutes, the guy leaves, whistling a soft tune as if he’s proud of a job well done. At least it might hint of extra time if he lingers in other rooms too.

You’re about to work through the case the normal way when you notice the fault in the glass’s positioning and a brief examination leads to a broad smile stretching your cheeks as you place the glove covered hands on either side of the housing and lift it off – no alarms or boobytraps triggered. The exchange’s quick. A glance on your watch, and then you shuffle over to the nearby shelf with the peculiar knives. Stuck tip-down into a relatively common utensil holder it’s almost as though the eccentric collector only has them for show because he knows visitors might be awed while he himself doesn’t consider them of any specific worth although the blue flaring through the gunmetal-dark material is out of this world. Maybe literally.

It’s when you reach out for one that it shimmers out of existence in a familiar golden haze causing your heart to skip a beat. Cursing inwardly for wasting time, you turn to hightail it out of the mansion but nearly collide with the very same blade you were admiring, the tip now resting delicately on your chest.

“My little thief.” Finally looking past the weapon, your eyes meet Loki’s. “I had almost given up hope that you would come.”

Returning the smirk he grants you, it’s still a careful shrug rolling through your shoulder. “Been busy…but I guess you know that.”

It’s impossible to ignore the quick sweep his tongue makes along the lower lip as he looks you over, the widening of his pupils that sends a flutter through your stomach in anticipation. Never again, you’d promised yourself and still you find the memories begin to team up with the view of the tall figure before you. He’s in command of the situation unless you manage to escape. How? He’s the one with a weapon, its tip felt through the fabric like a pin-prick on the slope of your breast – the tiniest movement and it will be more than just a prick. How?

Looking up at him, you smile innocently to prevent any sudden reactions as you reach out for his free hand. He lets you take it, entwining fingers delicately for a moment before leading it to your face. A tender kiss in his palm, the thin cool skin of his wrist before you let his hand rest on your shoulder, allowing you to reach for him and gently nudge the knife-wielding hand aside though never letting go of the arm. You fingers trace the slender limb lazily, half-forgotten as lips brush along his jaw.

Banzai. Loki’s fingers lock into your hair, folding around the base of your skull to steer you, both your lips onto his but also your body trailing after him as he backs towards the centre of the room. If memory serves you right, there’s some kind of puffy bench or other which means that you only have until you reach that to incapacitate him. Why? I could just go along. Sweet temptation makes your heart flutter against your ribs and a heat pools low in you belly. It’s a dangerous game to play with someone like him and you had promised yourself last time that it would never happen again…just like you had sworn never to return to this place.

A quick glance verifies that you have about four steps before he’ll have you locked beneath him. Grinding against his groin with your hip, the reaction comes immediately in form of a groan and you pray that he’s distracted enough for a few seconds. With a swift snatch you manage to tear the dagger from his grip, brandishing it between your bodies with the tip pointed at his growing cock.

Breathing heavily, Loki’s aware enough of what’s going on to stop moving, his eyes filling with cold fury as he glances towards the alternative hostage situation. “What’s this? Complaints?” Somehow, he still manages to patronize you.

“Consider it a refusal.”

“You didn’t say no last time, my pet.”

He’s right, but you’re not about to give in again and let him get more power over you. “It served it’s purpose. No more.”

“Ouch.” Thin lips curl in a snarl. “It hurts my feelings….especially when you lie that badly.”

It won’t help to discuss past events with him (especially when you don’t want to admit the truth yourself), so you change focus to the situation at hand by ordering the Asgardian to let go of you. Something he only begrudgingly does when you add more pressure with the knife and it slips through the fabric of his trousers with a soft rippling sound as each thread is severed.

You should’ve seen it coming. The moment you step back, creating distance between the god and the weapon, he moves. A sharp pain races up from wrist to shoulder as the metal clatters across the floor, but you don’t have time to register where it lands because your aching arm is twisted behind your back and used as leverage to force you onto the floor with your face smushed into the green velvet of the seat. It smells of sawdust and a hint of camphor, but mostly it just grates against your skin.

A glint of light reflecting of metal captivates you, ensuring that Loki can use less power to hold you still as you stare at the dark grey-blue tip less than an inch from your eye. Shit. You can’t breathe. Can’t move or think. Only one other sentence keeps circling in your mind – unfortunately it’s full of self-deprecation rather than any useful ideas. Shit.

“Don’t mistake my indulgence for weakness,” the cold hiss explains, “letting you go last time was not a show of defeat as you very well know.”

The dagger moves out of sight, leaving you to stare one-eyed at a shade of green you’ll never forget anymore. Then you feel the prick at the nape of your skull. The cocky alien’s in control now even as he lets go of you and this time there’s nothing playful about the current predicament like the previous encounters had been. Sweat’s breaking out all over your body and you have to swallow hard to simply be able to breathe.

“So what now?” Your sneer’s partially muffled by the plush piece of furniture. “Gonna rape me, you sick bastard?”

He hits you so hard that you skid across the polished floor. Black spots dance before your eyes even after you manage to crack the jaw back in place. You’ve been hit before. Hell, it’s one of the reasons you became such a good burglar, but this tops it all and calls forth hot tears that spill down your face. You don’t care. You especially don’t care when he yanks your face skywards by grabbing hold of the messy hair and the freezing length of a by now familiar blade lands on your throat.

“Look. At. Me.” A spark within you wants to resist, but you can’t and your view fills with the emerald irises that burn with hate. “I may be harsh and cruel, but I would never do something like that to you.” He seems to realize what he’s said and adds quickly, “to anyone.”

Just more than I could take Pity for pity's sake Some nights kept me awake I thought that I was stronger

…

The world’s fuzzy and soft in the night by the time you attempt to open your eyes. It takes a moment to get your bearing and another one before the memories return and you sit up with a gasp. You’re back in your little apartment, but you have no recollection of how you got there. The last you do recall are Loki’s green eyes before a sensation of falling.

What did he do? Padding yourself down, it’s with some disbelief that you accept that you not only are wearing exactly the same as when you set out the night before, but there are no other injuries than a few bruises…excluding the deep gash in your pride. No trace of unwarranted contact despite the fact that you must have been completely at Loki’s mercy. Knowing that, you should be relieved. Not afraid. Not shameful. Not…filling with regret as if you had been the one to make advances only to be turned down by him. Messed up. Too messed up. Is it possible to get addicted to a person?

Frustrated, you push off the bed and begin pacing hectically through the small apartment, a scathing, internal monologue running on repeat to remind you of why it’s good you got away from Loki’s mansion without anything else happening.

…

Turning in your bed, you’re vaguely aware that the light has changed to soft grey tones - you must have managed to fall asleep after all. Tugging at the oversized t-shirt to get comfortable again, the feeling of the pendant against your chest solicits a drowsy smile.

…

You near a state of wakefulness in protest of the chill stealing through your limbs. Presuming in the sleepy state that you must have pushed the covers aside, you grope for it. Not covers. The observation flashes through your head and startles you to move quickly for the crevice between mattress and headboard for a knife you keep tugged away there, but cold fingers wrap round your wrists.

“Not so fast.”

Blinking blearily, you stare up into Loki’s face. The glint in his gorgeous, green eyes is mischievous, not unlike the curling smile that broadens as he takes in your exposed form because no, a faded t-shirt and a pair of panties doesn’t count as cover when he’s the one blatantly studying each curve. You see how his eyes darken, hear the shortness of both your breaths, and memories come flooding back followed by a strong heat in your womanhood.

Your attempt at speaking’s a helpless croak until you clear the throat. “Ch-changed your mind?”

The gaze alone could hold you in place as he refocuses on your mouth. Unbiddenly, you wet your lips that suddenly have gone dry.

“I do not deny that I appreciate your body immensely, but that’s not why I’m here.” Loki changes the hold on your wrist with ease, freeing a hand to caress your neck, your throat, before pulling out the pendant from under the cotton. “No…this is why.” Faint embers are reflected onto his cold irises. “I must congratulate you, my dear…your plan was not bad and had I been a mere human, then I would probably not have noticed the exchange.”

The weight of the necklace returns onto your chest, now cold from his fingers that begin straightening the chain. Each stroke ghosts across sensitive skin, sending goosebumps racing over your body and a soft ache warns you how your nipples are initiating a slow uprising against the t-shirt.

“Why d’you want it back? You let me leave with it!”

Your challenge’s meant to distract him from what he’s doing, but he merely glances before beginning to smoothen the fabric. “I knew you’d come back for it.”

“What?” The word pops out hard and mocking. “You think it’s more than financial value to me?” It doesn’t…does it? You’d meant to sell it originally, but then changed your mind and blew of the potential buyers without remorse.

“Pet…don’t pretend we don’t think alike, you and I.” Leaning down, Loki’s lips brush gently against your earlobe and his hair tickles against your chin, its scent of frost and camphor setting off a new shiver that heads straight for your aching core. “You’d come because of your pride. For the challenge. And deep down…because you yearn for something more.”

The Asgardian tugs playfully at your ear with his teeth, hands sliding along your arm and side before reverting and you feel your body betray your mind as it arches into his touch. Cupping your face in a large hand his lips meet yours gently before he pulls back, letting go completely although he doesn’t get off the bed.

“Please…” broken-voiced, you try to formulate what you need.

Light fingertips on your thigh stokes the burning need. “Tell me what you want, kitten. Last time you denied me my fun…what will it be now?”

“I want…I…” Loki stays within reach of your grabbing hands but doesn’t move towards you either. “I want you…need…please?”

“Are you certain?” His grip on your hip’s still soft. Too soft. “I’d like to reward you for the skill it took to swap the pendant, but you have to want it.”

“Just shut up and fuck me!”

Gentleness is obliterated by a bruising urgency as Loki takes over your body. Every inch’s kissed, bitten, licked, or explored with cool hands that booth bruise and soothe the burning traces. Every time you gasp for breath, his lips find yours to swallow each moan that the pressure of his thigh between your legs elicit. Not enough. He’s gotten you to the brink of bliss, but like a mirage it keeps eluding you and the feverish need for more’s burning you from the inside, leaving a hollow sensation that can be filled if only… A whine escapes your lips, warning the god as you reach for the belt buckle in desperation only to feel them snared and forced above your head.

He positions himself between your legs, nudging the knees apart. “So eager…” the growl’s guttural, nearly muffling the words, “longing for more…”

The golden shimmer’s visible even with half-closed eyes, but although you can feel his skin against your legs and arms as Loki repositions himself, your soaked panties still form a barrier between the cockhead as it pushes against your folds, and the old t-shirt insulates you from the chill of his chest.

“Loki…pleeaase!”

Arching against him, you feel the tremble passing through his body and for the briefest of moments it’s as though his eyes are red, but you’re distracted by his skin changing hue and the man, the alien, growing ever so slightly that his physique becomes impressively dimensioned. A scratching like claws diverts your eyes to the now blueish hands where darker talons have replaced the nails. I should be terrified. The logic’s clear yet simultaneously completely irrelevant as icy lips find the tender skin on your throat where they suck, marking a path spot by spot to your clavicle…then past…and as the V of the cotton obstructs the proceedings, Loki shreds it and tosses the scraps onto the floor without taking his burning gaze off your body now exposed beneath him.

“Little pet…if I hurt you…” He forces his gaze to your face, concern simmering in the darkness of lust. “If I hurt you or you want me to stop…say Laufey.”

The request itself is not unfamiliar unlike the word so you nod. “Mighty confident talking wh–“

You don’t get further because he kisses you again, forcefully, hungrily, biting your bottom lip as his fingers slip past the hem of the panties and delve between your soaking folds to the delighted groans of both of you. Perfect strokes mix with circles around the clit and entrance, often with added pressure onto the former that has you crying out Loki’s name like a prayer. Still, he’s got your wrists in an iron grip even if it clearly frustrates him.

“Belt,” you gasp, causing him to pause, “will get…get your h-hand…free.”

The curling smile bares gleaming, pointed teeth. “What a delightfully filthy idea.”

Not only does he use the belt to restrain your hands. No. The god also takes the opportunity to turn you around onto elbows and knees, allowing him to take place behind you. Claws trail your spine all the way to the elastic of the remaining clothes and you can feel it give way, sliding under the curve of your ass and exposing the glistening heat of your cunt. Then they too are torn apart. Cold hands slam onto the butt cheeks, forming an anchor for Loki as he begins to lab up your arousal, his nose nudging at your core with every movement.

Heat and tension builds within you, has you pleading for your god to fill you or let you cum on his tongue and fingers. Again and again, the bastard denies you release. Each time, he chuckles darkly as he has you watch past your own body how the strong hand pumps a nervewrecking huge cock languidly. The tip a dark purple with the exception of the milky pre-cum leaking out each time his fist passes ridges similar to those on the rest of his body. And all you can think of is how badly you want him inside you, to feel the ridges against the smooth walls, and you pout and curse when he returns to the ministrations that has his face glistening.

Balancing on the edge, you nearly scream as he pulls away once more, but this time his strong hands brings your legs together with his knees on the outside, and you gasp from anticipation and the thundering need at the feeling of the cool cockhead tracing your folds, each pass nudging further in until his manhood’s fully covered in your juices and he’s perfectly aligned.

“Don’t hold back, kitten.”

And with that Loki slides into your tight core, stretching you to the very limits which causes a sweet, stinging pain to heighten the sensation of each ridge that delves in and makes you shout with pleasure on contact with your g-spot. Gold shimmers, freeing your wrists so you can brace yourself.

“That’s it,” he growls, “ let me hear you.”

The rhythm’s slow at first, allowing some semblance of adaptation before increasing the intensity. And you let him hear exactly how you feel. Praises and curses mingle with your gasping breath, turning into groans, then shouts until he has you cumming with his name tearing from your throat in a wild scream as you plunge into the darkness of the abyss to drown in ecstasy. Every muscle seizes in your body, leaving it to Loki to hold you in position…and he does as he rams into you haphazardly before reaching his own peak and unloading like an icy flood inside you, stealing the last air from your lungs.

He doesn’t bother with pulling out, rather he tips the both of you, tugging you tightly to his chest as his form reverts to normal. Gasping for air, none of you speak.

Eventually, though, the peaceful silence ends, and Loki abandons you in the bed in favour of cleaning up and getting dressed the same way as when first you’d had sex. Pausing by the door, he looks back. It’s almost a déjà vu.

“I trust we will see each other again, my pet?” The lazy smile negates the questioning tone.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 116: Prison Chat

Previously on BnHA: We took a break from the U.A. kids and their provisional license exam antics and got a whole chapter from Twice’s point of view. He has a fucked up backstory which involves him cloning himself and then his clones all battling for dominance and murdering each other, and now it’s just him left and he’s not even sure if he’s the original. We also learned that Endeavor is not exactly winning people over as the new number one hero, and most people are either underwhelmed or openly creeped out by him. Meanwhile, emboldened villains feel increasingly comfortable committing petty crimes in broad daylight and teaming up now that All Might isn’t around. A new group of villains lead by a dude named Overhaul committed some light dismemberment and arson, and it looks like Twice is thinking about recruiting them to the League. Finally, we cut to a max security prison where All Might is apparently meeting with the imprisoned All for One to “settle things” omgggggggg.

Today on BnHA: All Might asks All for One about Tomura and about what he was planning. All for One is predictably unhelpful and says that Tomura is working on his own now. They have an admittedly fascinating discussion about why All for One decided to groom a successor after being injured by All Might. AFO then expertly provokes All Might by speculating about the chaotic state of the outside world with startling and annoying accuracy. He taunts All Might about being frustrated and powerless. All Might says he knows that AFO was planning to have Tomura kill both him and Deku. He says he won’t let that happen, and that no matter how many evil schemes AFO hatches, he will always be there to crush them. Back at the fanfic dorms, the kids of 1-A wind down as they excitedly await the start of the new semester. Bakugou comes up to Deku and tells him to meet him outside later and that “it’s about your quirk.”

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 151 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.

**There are spoilers in this recap for chapter 131, which has not yet aired in the anime.** These spoilers are tagged as always, but take heed.)

BAKUGOUUUUUUU

“the noble beast of class 1-A” lol wtf

“Tartarus Greeting” isn’t that like the Greek hell

WE ONLY HAVE THREE MORE CHAPTERS LEFT IN THIS VOLUME FOR THIS BRAT TO GO CONFRONT DEKU ABOUT HIS QUIRK. GET A MOVE ON ALREADY BOY

but of course we’re opening right where we left off first. the prison with All Might and All for One. which I’m also pretty hyped for, so

All for One is complaining about the high level of security in this high security prison

apparently they’re monitoring his vitals, brain waves, etc. at all times, and if you so much as wiggle in your chair the wrong way, all the gun turrets in the place will point at you

still think he could escape in an instant if he wanted to. he probably has a bulletproof quirk. and we know he has a fucking warp quirk. he’s just biding his time

oh, apparently Tartarus is the name of the prison. also the prison is underground. or at least his part of it is underground. cuz it didn’t seem to be underground when we cut to the exterior of the building just a couple of panels ago

is there any wood around, All Might. you should probably knock on some wood. fucking jinxed us all, dude

All for One’s only response is “let’s assume that to be the case.” fffff lol yeah okay

so he’s asking what does All Might want with him, where’s Gran Torino, why did All Might come alone, “what’s with that pitiful costume” -- and okay, with that last one though, so are you actually fucking blind or not. I know he doesn’t have eyes and he’s been using infrared and the like, but his scathing remarks about All Might’s appearance are always so on point and it’s like ???

(ETA: goddammit I wish I could just project this thought into Horikoshi’s mind. like he suddenly wakes up in a cold sweat and is all “THE PLOT HOLE. OMG. I FORGOT” and immediately goes to write one of his infamous bonus page ramblings to correct it. I mean, it’s an easy enough fix. he can make up some bullshit quirk to explain it easily enough. but just. it really bothers me for some reason, like way more than it should. fuck you, All for One)

All Might really fucking hates All for One you guys. not gonna lie, pissed off is a good look for him

now he’s asking where Tomura is

All for One says he doesn’t know. “unlike you, I’ve already let my successor carry on”

now All Might’s asking him what he was trying to do. “what were you after?”

okay but now that the immortality thing has been brought up, it reminds me that I’ve been wondering why would this basically immortal guy suddenly become so obsessed with molding a successor? to the extent where he said that everything he’d been doing was for Tomura’s sake. (although whether or not that’s true is a whole nother story)

All for One says it’s pointless to explain it because All Might would never be able to understand

and now he’s saying that he and All Might are the same. two sides of the same coin type of thing. “in the same way you aspired to be the hero of justice, I yearned to be the king of evil”

when he says “live on eternally”, he’s talking about his legacy living on through Tomura, then? cuz idk, I still don’t buy it

and now All Might is also asking him “if that’s the case, why a successor?”

ah, he says it’s because of the injury All Might inflicted on him

I really love the way the reflection is dividing this image between All Might and All for One’s faces. oh damn

and all right, I guess I can buy this explanation. but I still can’t see Tomura as having those final villain chops though. idk, I wouldn’t be surprised if All for One changes his mind, or manages to acquire a better healing quirk than his current one -- one which actually allows him to restore himself to his former glory -- and then he decides he wanted to carry on with the whole villain thing after all

someone over the speaker is telling All Might he only has three more minutes

and now All for One is like OH SHIT and he’s trying to think of all the other shit he wanted to say to him lol

he’s asking how the world is out there now that All Might’s retired

it’s like Order of the Phoenix, but not quite Half-Blood Prince, fyi

dude on the loudspeakers is warning All Might not to give him any info

All for One says “what a shame”

and now it looks like he’s going to speculate. and probably be bang on target too

did you actually read the previous chapter yourself somehow or what

I wish All Might would stop gritting his teeth and clenching his fist and sweating in this way that just confirms every damn thing that All for One is saying

ffffff he must be so frustrated though. he devoted his entire life to making a peaceful world and to see that all fall apart and to be helpless to do anything about it...

and of course All for One is making the exact same observation. :/ “I believe you will spend the rest of your life stricken by your powerlessness and inability to do anything”

fucking hell, can’t we just have one of these turrets suddenly tragically “malfunction” and end this dude already. someone please tell me why we’re keeping him alive. clearly he’s no good for information

he’s asking All Might how it feels

All Might, the best thing you could do right now would be to just stand up and walk out of the room. you’re not getting anything else out of him and right now he’s getting under your skin, and seeing you hurting over this is giving this fucker exactly what he wants

the loudspeaker voice is also telling All Might to back away

I feel like he’s talking to me more than to All Might. about the “no hitting” part. yes that is indeed a shame

ooh, All Might’s gonna fire something back at him! GO TOSHI GO

he’s telling him not to presume that he knows everything. and he says he understands All for One’s thinking very well

oh shit

okay so like. I really like when older mentor type characters mention their proteges like this and they’re like “that boy” or “that child” and it’s like a reminder of how young and vulnerable and inexperienced the protege character is still, and how the mentor character is always looking out for them. like. I just like that. maybe it’s that it makes me feel like I can bond with the mentor character over our mutual protectiveness of the kid

anyway. so All for One isn’t even denying it; he’s just like, “and?”

and All Might is just like

dang. although once again I really wish that there was some wood nearby for you to knock on fffffffffffff

(ETA: ****SPOILER WARNING FOR CHAPTER 131, WHICH HAS NOT YET AIRED IN THE ANIME****

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so not only is All Might saying “fuck you” to All for One here, but he’s also giving the middle finger to fate itself. and I have to admit, it’s incredibly badass, even if it also makes me more worried than ever about him jinxing it. you see, that’s the upside of sticking around to raise your successor, AFO. you get to be inspired by them in some unexpected ways.

also, All Might is very brave and very determined and I love him so much omg.

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****END SPOILERS****)

and now the loudspeaker guy is telling All Might his time is up

All Might says that whatever future AFO is envisioning, All Might will always smash it no matter what, and AFO can spend the rest of his life sitting here and looking on

yeah bro. way to get the last fucking word in

now the doors are closing on All for One, and he’s laughing because of course he is

oh fuck you, dude. this conversation has been amazing but I’m tired of you now lol

now we’re cutting to All Might riding home with his best bro Nao

Nao’s asking how it went and All Might’s like, yeah, it didn’t

!! he’s mentioning that he also talked with Stain?!

(ETA: Mangastream’s translation made it sound like he spoke with him, but Viz and Fallen Angels's versions said that he was making plans to question him but hadn’t actually done so yet. given that this hasn’t come up again yet -- at least not at the point where I’m currently at -- I’m guessing Viz and FA got it right. though I’m still curious as to what they actually want to talk to him about.)

but now he’s getting interrupted by his phone which is buzzing

AHHHHH HE GOT DEKU’S WHOLESOME TEXT

All Might please charge your phone soon

HE EVEN HAS DEKU LISTED IN HIS CONTACTS AS “MIDORIYA-SHOUNEN” LMAO

HIS DAD FACE AT THE END OMG. HE REALLY NEEDED THIS RIGHT NOW

also it completely slipped my mind earlier, but he finally has his arm out of that cast. and apparently the hand is doing pretty well since he’s using it to text. good good

AHHHHH FINALLY WE’RE BACK AT THE U.A. DORMS

the kids are hanging out in the common area. Deku’s wondering if All Might got his text yet. he has this super cute proud little smile on his face

I’m so happy for him

but I won’t pretend I’m not also preoccupied with how Bakugou is doing lol. like, he wasn’t one to hang out with the others much even before this, and now it’s probably going to be even less so, at least until their excitement at having all passed the exam dies down. I expect Shouto will be keeping to himself a little bit more for a while too

gasppppppppppp

[FRANTICALLY CHECKING OWN PULSE BECAUSE I’M PRETTY SURE MY HEART JUST STOPPED]

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYYYYYYY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD

(((o(꒪ □ ꒪ )o)))

I’M FREAKING THE FUCK OUTTTTTTTTTTTT AHHHHHHHHHHH

 BONUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU GUYS!!!!!!!! HOW AM I EVEN SO EXCITED WHEN I FUCKING KNEW THIS WAS COMING?!?!?! I DON’T EVEN KNOW!!!!!

THE BONUS PAGE IS JUST KACCHAN AND HIS SQUAD ALONG WITH TETSUTETSU AND MONOMA FROM CLASS B FOR SOME REASON

ALSO THE GUY WHO WROTE THE VIGILANTES SPIN-OFF THINKS THAT TSUYU HAD A LIL TADPOLE TAIL UNTIL KINDERGARTEN!

IT SAYS “NOTE: NOT CANON” BUT IT’S MY FUCKING CANON NOW DUDE

“AND I LIKE TSUYU” I FUCKING LIKE HER TOO OMG

BAKUGOU!!!! AND DEKU!!!! OUTSIDE!!!!!!!!!!! TALKING. ABOUT. QUIRKS

someone help me, I’m pretty sure if my apartment were to fucking catch fire right at this moment I’d still be reading and just ignoring it omggggg