#despite my lack of promises and slow answer time i truly appreciate every single one of you!!

[scimagic]

Mm I don't think I've been very fair with a lot of the things you guys send to my inbox. If you've sent a message and I haven't replied for a very long while then the possibility that I've deleted it is very high, otherwise it's just sitting in my inbox waiting to be answered-!

Sometimes I delete asks because I don't have the motivation or energy to answer, but I think most of the time is because I. Don't know How to respond. On the rare occasion I simply don't answer because people request something out of me that I cannot/don't want to fulfill. I don't apologize for those but I do apologize to the ones that were easy to respond without a drawing or a sketch, I just didn't see that at the time

Why am I suddenly talking about this? Well you're probably about to see an influx of answers that don't have drawings or jokes (I also don't like posting without a drawing or Something worthwhile to you all but I think just having conversations is nice from time to time! I just have to remember that!)

[amiechuchu]

Magic, Mayhem, and All Things In Between

Chapter 3: Background of the Study

[A/N: finally some y/n and loki development. soft loki moments. i am once again back with the self-indulgent fic and i hope you enjoy :’)]

other chapters can be found here

Weeks had passed since you had accepted Mr. Stark’s small favor. Weeks had passed since you began spending the majority of your time with the Asgardian brothers and dear Uncle Bruce. Though the days were filled with chatter, the late nights in the lab were quite the opposite. With only the low hum of machines to keep you company, you realized how lonely it can be. It was unlike the times you spent in the hospital, where you’d be surrounded by fellow doctors, nurses, and patients even at the dead of night. Despite how these late night duties meshed with early mornings, dulling your own sense of time, you didn’t mind it because of the company that you had. Research work, on the other hand, was a different story. Despite your years of experience, the burnout and loneliness that accompanied research work slowly made its way to the deepest parts of your brain.

“Hey,” a voice said as a hand waved in front of you, snapping you out of the trance you were in. It was Loki. “Are you okay, pet? You look rather dead.” The God held up a cup of freshly brewed coffee and passed it on to you.

“I’m fine,” came your quick reply as you received the cup from him, your hands nudging his slightly, “thank you for the coffee by the way.” You gave Loki a weak smile before beginning to sip from the warm cup of comfort that was given to you.

The lack of reaction was unusual. How many times has Loki seen you flustered with just the tiniest forms of physical touch? Probably every single time. Confused, he grabbed a chair and set it down beside you. “Are all you Midgardians always so dishonest about what you feel?” There was that usual bite in his manner of speaking. Though, no matter how hard he tried to hide it in his cold demeanor, he could feel the concern dripping from the words he uttered; the loneliness he saw in your eyes hit too close to home. Did he get too close? Maybe showing that he cared was a mistake.

Keeping your eyes on the warm mug, you hummed in reply, refusing to answer a clear yes. Your eyes glanced up at the God beside you, longing to understand why he’d even bother. Clearly, you were oblivious to any form of care or concern Loki has shown. It wasn’t as if you had your guard up, rather you were quite unfamiliar with the intimacies of talking about your own feelings. Although the question he asked was clearly rhetorical, you still wondered: Do Asgardians not repress their own feelings to prevent them from getting distracted from things that truly matter?

Green orbs stared at yours, noticing the ever darkening bags under your eyes. “I was just concerned,” Loki began, voice softening. The God looked away and focused on the variety of glassware set up on the table adjacent to them, “it has been a while since you’ve left the laboratory. You didn’t even sneak out to the medical wing for a little breather.”

You raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. How could he have noticed all that? How could he have cared at all? After all, you were just a lowly Midgardian, as he put it, and he was a God, a deity, someone with power and importance. “How did you-”

“It pains me that you put me on the same level as them, little doctor,” the God interjected as he faced you once more, “out of all the weeks we’ve spent in this laboratory, you really believed I wouldn’t have noticed.” He noticed the closeness of your proximity; his form inches away from yours, yet your mind was elsewhere. 

“In my defense, everyone else I’ve met in this tower described you as a narcissistic asshole and a war criminal,” you shrugged, “so, naturally, I didn't think you would care at all about my well-being.” You took a sip from your cup, and indulged in the buzz the caffeine began to give you. “But I don’t think you’re as bad as they make you out to be. They just didn’t think of the whole story. Just took out a portion of it. It was unfair - what they did to you. It felt as if you always had the short end of the stick.”

Silence. 

Now, it was your turn to shock your Asgardian companion. Being on the other end of empathy was foreign to Loki as everyone treated him quite harshly. He grew up in the shadow of Thor, the more loveable sibling, and, as much as he wanted to show off his capabilities, that he was just as worthy as Thor, Loki was left in the darkness, to wallow in promises unkept, to wallow in dreams broken, to wallow in his own great tragedy. 

Eyes feeling heavy, You turned your head towards Loki, waiting for a response; though you were a naturally perceptive person, the look on his face was filled with emotions you couldn’t make out. Was he mad? Did you say too much? That analysis was unwarranted, of course he’d be mad. Embarrassed, you looked down on your cup of coffee once more, “I apologize if I said anything out of line. There are just too many things in my mind right now. I don’t think I was able to filter my thoughts very well.”

“Pray tell, dear doctor. What are you thinking of?” Loki replied, deciding to change the course of their conversation. With brows slightly raised and his gaze set at your exhausted form, you felt the God studying you, attempting to break down the essence of what makes the little physician tick. 

Deciding to be a smartass, you replied, “like I said, many things.” You set down your cup of coffee on the table and crossed your arms. “Why do you ask, Loki? These past few weeks you’ve been awfully helpful to the point that Uncle says it’s weird and unlikely for you to do that just for a human. I appreciate it though, but I just don’t see why you should go out of your way to listen to me.”

“Your words wound me, doctor,” Loki chuckled, emerald eyes piercing yours, “can I not be concerned? I see years worth of loneliness and unfulfilled expectations in your eyes to the point that you can’t even deny it. I’m sure you understand what isolation and over independence can do.” Your eyes softened, glistening under the incandescent lights. You were cracking slowly, and the God knew this. He knew what you were seeking: comfort, validation, a shoulder to cry on. It was clear as day.

“Well, I could see all the walls you’ve built. You know everything about everybody, but barely anyone knows anything about you,” you attempted to reply proudly; however, your words were breathy, already beginning to shake. So much for an attempted bark. Embarrassed, you looked away defensively, not taking another moment under his perceptive gaze. It felt as if all the skeletons you’ve kept inside your closet were being showcased all of a sudden, and you hated every second of it. Your stomach churned as your defenses slowly came undone; it wouldn’t take a while now for you to start oversharing, possibly even crying your eyes out. His hand tenderly reached out to the edge of your chin and tilted it towards him. It was warm, soothing. Comforting.

“I could say the same to you, darling. You act as if you don’t build walls around you, yet you keep everyone else at arms reach. I know what loneliness and distrust does to people, and I also know that you shouldn’t hold yourself accountable for all these expectations.” There was a slight pang in Loki’s chest as he said all these truths. He too bore wounds invisible to the eye. He too carried scars from the past. These emotions were far too familiar to the raven-haired God much like old friends, and he was afraid that, by reading these off your face, he’d become attached somehow, mended together by a mutual understanding of each other’s pain. What would become of his plan then? His glorious purpose?

Looking up to him, you realized how small you were, how fragile, how easy it was for him to see through your façade. It was oddly nice to have someone who had a grasp on your inner demons, albeit without consent. You felt a connection in the making.

 Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to trust him.

 *

Days have passed since the God of Mischief and the doctor have shared a portion of the thoughts they hid away in the darkest parts of their head. It was needless to say that the two now had an unspoken connection, a commiseration of loneliness, self-doubt, and crushing expectations. Often, they’d find their gazes focused on one another, with smiles shared and laughter exchanged. Other times, a helping hand would linger longer than usual atop the other’s. A gentle squeeze or the light encircling of one’s thumb, a sign of care and concern; these gestures only happened when the two were alone, knowing that dear Uncle Bruce would be highly against it. However, it wouldn’t be long before the others noticed.

You were grateful that today was a relatively slow day in the laboratory. Majority of the specimens that were scheduled for today’s tests were finished earlier than usual along with the case presentations and progress reports Mr. Stark had asked you to make. Though it seemed like such a small feat, you took it positively; today, you could finally take a breather. You hummed happily as you began arranging the mountain of paperwork around the main table.

Upon reaching for the next pile of papers, a familiar hand laid atop of yours. You smiled and looked at your raven-haired companion, admiring the way his tousled locks framed his oh-so ethereal face. 

“Do you need help, my dear doctor?” Loki asked as his thumb drew circles on your hand. Though his silvery voice tugged at your heartstrings as they always did, your cheeks were slightly tinged a light shade of red at mention of the pet name. The God never called you his doctor before.

“I can manage,” you replied as you turned your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You kept your gaze on your hands intertwined with his, the way they fit together so perfectly. “It’s surprisingly not as busy today.”

Loki leaned down, his face close behind your neck. “A bit bold today aren’t we, pet?” he jested, breath tickling the side of your ear.

Thor observed the scene from afar, shocked. He never thought that his brother would’ve established a bond with the doctor, not in the way that Loki didn’t deserve any type of social interaction, but in the way that his brother wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. With arms crossed, the God of Thunder continued to watch as the two continued on with their intimacies, wondering when and how this managed to start. He watched the way your eyes lingered on his brother attentively; the way you were able to tug a smile on Loki’s face; the way his face lit up when you were around; the way your gentle touch was able to open a different side of Loki. 

Though he was wary of his brother and his antics, Thor disregarded his suspicions: the two of you were much too happy occupied in your bubble of… friendship? No, it was more than that. So much more. Something was blossoming, and the God of Thunder was sure of it. He was unsure of the status of you and Loki’s relationship, but nevertheless he was still happy. However, he wasn’t so sure if your uncle would be so accepting of it, knowing the bad blood between what had happened in New York.

The doors of the laboratory swept open, startling the two friends. Thor coughed loudly to alert his brother and the doctor, but it was already too late for them to fall back to a more believably platonic position. Out came Mr. Stark and Uncle Bruce from the elevators, both shocked at the closeness of you and Loki. Tony looked more curious than shocked at the development. Your uncle, on the other hand, radiated a crushing aura, and, although Uncle Bruce’s face seemed calm and collected at the moment, you knew very well that there was anger hidden underneath it. He always warned you about Loki and the danger he could bring if you got involved, so it was no surprise to you if his anger came from both concern and disappointment. 

Awkward air filled the room as the two made their way towards the laboratory’s main table. Loki stepped back away from you, whispering something along the lines of you being okay. You nodded in affirmation then looked down, averting any type of eye contact, and started to fiddle with the sheets of paper you had in hand. 

Sighing, you knew it was taboo to speak of the laboratory’s peace out loud since it always brought bad luck. Now, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.

taglist: @gaycatlord-stuff​  @aces-tattooartist​ 

[submissivedjberry]

Clarifications || Jolia

Tagging: DJ Berry & Jo Fabray ( @jofabray )

Date: August 23

Location: Jo’’s Suite

Summary: The aftermath of the threesome with Tina.

DJ

The night with Jo and Tina had been a series of ups and downs. But for the most part, DJ had enjoyed the time that they had spent with the other submissive. And she felt like if given the opportunity she could become even more confident and comfortable in situations like that. She felt, despite some lingering tension, like she had done well the night before. And she hoped that Jo had felt the same way. Even if she wasn't certain. And that was something that she needed to go over with the blonde that day. Because she had some worries and things that had bugged her that she wanted to be honest with Jo about and hopefully get some clarity on. Tina had left not too long before and DJ had busied herself with cleaning some things up, even if they weren't things that truly needed to be cleaned. It was more to keep her mind and body occupied until she felt the confidence to talk with Jo. Eventually though, she made her way to the living room and claimed her spot on her knees. She let out a slow breath and glanced down at her thighs, waiting for the Domme.

Jo

The experience of having two submissives under orders at the same time was a different one for Jo. It had been complicated, and she knew that not every part of it had gone smoothly, but she hoped that when it was said and done DJ and Tina both felt like they'd been given a fair share of attention and treated as equally as Jo could manage. She knew that her lack of experience meant that mistakes could be made, and while it would hurt if she'd done so at least the experience would be better for all of them the next time. Stretched out on the couch with a book as Jo cleaned, she looked up with a smile as her girl came to kneel before her. "Hello, darlin' girl. All finished up out there?"

DJ

She offered a small smile and nodded her head. "Yes, Miss, I managed to clean everything up." She assured her, biting down on her bottom lip and then clearing her throat slightly. "Do you think that we could talk for a minute, please, Miss?" DJ questioned, head tilting to the side as she glanced up at the Domme. She felt anxious and unsure, but she promised that she would be honest about the way that she was feeling and she wanted to do that, even if it was very difficult to speak up. She chewed on the inside of her cheek waiting for the Domme to respond.

Jo

"Such a good girl," Jo praised, wanting DJ to know - as always - that what she did was never unappreciated and would never go without reward. The question, and particularly how nervous DJ looked, made Jo a little nervous in return, but she didn't hesitate. Communication was one of the things that was most important to any potential claim. "Of course we can, darlin'. Would y'all like to stay where you are for this, or would you like to join me on the couch?"

DJ

The praise, as always, caused a warmth to spread within her and she sighed contently. She let it soothe her for just a few moments, and also let Jo's willingness to speak with her sooth her a bit as well. "I'd like to stay here, please." The submissive expressed, feeling more centered with her place on the floor, taking a few moments to breathe and gain control of herself. She rubbed the back of her neck and then cleared her throat. "Did I do something wrong last night while we were with Tina, Miss?"

Jo

"Of course, darlin' girl." Jo straightened up a little, though, making sure her book was tucked away and that DJ had her full and complete attention. The wait felt long but she didn't wriggle or fidget, because DJ deserved focus. "Did you..." she started to repeat, shaking her head. "No, Dalia, not at all. Y'all didn't do a thing wrong. Why do you ask?" That was the part that worried her. If something had happened to make her feel bad, then that was on Jo's head.

DJ

"I just..." She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I feel a bit dumb for asking. But Tina got to make you and I cum..." She paused and chewed on her bottom lip. "And then you got to make Tina cum but I didn't get to make anyone cum. And I wasn't sure if that was because I had done something wrong." She paused and rubbed the back of her neck. "But I guess I'm really just being selfish because you should have gotten to make her cum if you want to. I'm sorry, Miss." DJ said quietly, looking back down at her lap.

Jo

Jo paused, looking down at her fingers for a moment as she tried to remember the sequence of events. Tina had made DJ cum. Then Jo had sat on her face as DJ had...had started getting her off before Tina asked her to stop. And then when they'd restarted, Jo had taken her place. She immediately felt like an idiot for not realizing before, and her face fell a little. "You're not selfish, darlin' girl. And you're not dumb for askin'. But it was absolutely not because y'all did anythin' wrong. It's because I wasn't thinkin'." Jo ran a hand through her hair, frustrated and upset with herself. "When we stopped, I guess I lost track of who'd been where. Stupid of me," she shook her head, scuffing her sock against the floor with a sigh. "You did nothin' wrong, my girl. Not one single thing. Your Domme just...needs to learn to plan better. My fault, and definitely not yours."

DJ

Watching Jo's face fall had caused a sharp pain in her chest. She almost felt like she could have kept the question to herself because nothing was worth watching Jo's face fall like that. She hated that she had been the cause of that look on her Domme's face. She shuffled closer to her Domme as Jo began to speak. She wasn't sure if Jo was right about her not being selfish, but she was glad that the blonde didn't think that she was dumb for asking the question. She felt a bit better that she hadn't done anything wrong, but she still hated that she had caused the Domme to look so bad. "No...you're not stupid, Miss. Please don't think that way. I just....I just wanted to make sure." She paused for a moment. "Can I come sit on you?"

Jo

"Y'all can always, always ask me," Jo promised, trying to shake off her frustration at such an easy mistake. All she'd had to do was keep better track of things and DJ wouldn't have had to worry about it. But should a night with the three of them ever happen again she'd be better at planning things out. "Of course, darlin'. Come on up." Jo patted her lap, waiting for DJ to join her and wrapping her gently in her arms. "I'm sorry y'all felt left out. It won't happen again, I swear."

DJ

She eased off of her knees and moved to claim her spot on her Domme's lap. She slipped her arms around Jo's neck and then pressed her lips against Jo's cheek. "Thank you for the apology, Domina. And you're forgiven. I really just wanted to make sure that I hadn't disappointed you somehow. But I should have known that you would have been clear that I was being punished." DJ expressed with a shrug and then nuzzled against her Dominant's neck, breathing in her familiar scent. "I am so happy to be yours. I want you to know that." She felt like the blonde could use a bit of a reminder.

Jo

The kiss against her cheek went a long way toward easing the disappointment that Jo felt in what she'd done. The apology did the rest, and she rested her head gently against DJ's with a hint of a smile. "I would have. But I so, so appreciate that y'all asked me to clear things up. If I'm gonna be good for you, I need ya to help me out that way. To ask questions, let me know when y'all feel like somethin' happened that you don't understand. So that I can figure it all out with you." Her smile grew wider at the soft statement, and she pulled DJ more tightly against her. "I am so happy that you're mine, darlin'. Happier than I've ever known."

DJ

"You told me you wanted me to be open and honest and it's not easy but I'm trying my best. Because I want to make you proud of me. And I want to make it easier on you that I'm yours." She grinned as Jo said that she was happier than anything else to know that DJ was hers. It was so special to know that that knowledge could bring such happiness out of the Domme. Because being Jo's made her so incredibly happy as well. More than she could even begin to describe. Resting against her, she gently kissed her neck. "May I ask something else please, Miss?"

Jo

"That is exactly what I told you," Jo agreed with a smile. "Because I don't think a claim can happen without honesty, and that's what I've promised y'all in return." She did shake her head, though, at the next sentence. "Being mine doesn't have to be easy, darlin', it just has to feel right to us both. Good things rarely come easy." DJ's kiss on her neck felt entirely too good, but rather than get distracted she was quick to take in the question. "Of course, darlin'. Ask away."

DJ

"I know you're right, Miss. And I want you to be honest with me about everything too. It will make us a more solid relationship and claim moving forward." She said gently. "I know it doesn't have to be easy but I don't want to be something that makes your life more challenging. Does that make sense?" DJ expressed, wanting her thoughts to be easy to understand. "Did you really enjoy the time with two submissives? And do you think it was because you were with two subs in general or because of who you were with?" DJ questioned, curled tightly into her Domme as her eyes closed. It felt like an important question and her tummy churned slightly as she was waiting for the answer.

Jo

"I can always promise honesty," Jo assured her. "Above all, and no matter what." There was no way she'd enter a claim with anyone that she couldn't be totally honest with at all times. She'd seen the sort of ugliness that lived in her parents' claim, and she would never subject herself to that. "It does," she promised. "But that doesn't mean that y'all should ever hold back, either, because makin' my life easier doesn't mean not bein' true to yourself, all the time." The question wasn't unexpected, but Jo didn't rush out an answer. This was an important conversation, and DJ deserved a well thought out reply. "I did," she nodded. "It's a challenge, for sure, but I think everyone had a good time and that's all I really wanted. As for the why...I thought Tina was a nice fit with both of us, sure. But it's really, really important to remember, darlin' - all we did was play video games and have sex. It was nice doin' that with Tina, and with y'all. But you're my choice to be here all the time. To be domestic, to live the quiet moments with. If Tina becomes someone we could both share that with one day, then we'll talk about it then. But you're my priority, okay? You're going to be my claim. Anythin' else that might happen is a long way down the road."

DJ

She was a little anxious about the question that she had asked but she knew it was a necessary to ask. She knew that Jo wanted her, but she also knew that Jo could want another submissive and she was glad she had taken the class to prepare for that possibly reality. When Jo began to speak, she nodded her head. Beyond wondering if she had done something wrong, it had been a very enjoyable time. "Tina is a very fun person. I had a very good time with her. And...she did pay attention to me." DJ expressed with a smile. When Jo said that there was something important that she needed to remember, she sat up and glanced at her. She nodded when she said that they had only played video games and had sex. She felt her cheeks flush and she smiled when Jo said that she was the one that she had chosen for now and that they would talk if things became more serious. She paused and rubbed her forehead slightly. "So...me first? And then you'll think about a second claim? What if you get a really strong connection with someone else?" She paused. "I don't want you to miss out. Even if I do love being your priority."

Jo

Jo smiled, running her fingers through DJ's dark hair. "She did, and I was very glad to see that. And I'm really happy that y'all had fun with her, because I wanted that more than anything else for the night." She felt really good about the conversation they were having, knowing that she could both ease DJ's fears and work through some of her own. "You first," she nodded. "And then we'll see what happens. But a second claim isn't a necessity for me. You are. Anything else can be figured out later on." She didn't want her girl thinking that she'd be somehow lacking without another claim. "And if I have a connection with someone, I'll expect them to be able to wait for us. Our claim is what I want. It's my goal. And then we'll see."

DJ

The feeling of fingers running through her hair was always a beautiful thing. It helped relax her and ease her fears. "Thank you, Miss. Our claim is my goal too. I am very excited to be yours wholly and completely. I wouldn't want to be anyone else's. And if someone else comes around that you feel really connected with I want you to go for it. As long as I have time with you...as long as I'm not forgotten...I can deal with it." She promised. "I just...as long as you're mine, I can handle anything."

Jo

Jo was grateful to hear it - she knew that the idea of someone else added to a claim would always be a challenge. Both parties would have to be assured of their equality and made to feel special, and neither of them could ever feel lesser than. But it meant the world to her that DJ would be willing to try something like for her if the time came. "You are so wonderful, darlin' girl. So completely wonderful," she smiled, pressing a soft kiss to DJ's forehead. "Whether that day ever comes or not, y'all will never be forgotten. You're mine. Always." She hesitated for a second before going on. "I had a thought...about our trial. I promise it's nothing bad, at all. But I really, really want y'all to give me your honest opinion on it."

DJ

"I might get jealous. Especially if they don't want me too. But I promise to do my best to be good." DJ assured the Domme with a shrug of her shoulders. "I will be good for you though. Promise. I know you won't forget me. Just...yeah." She froze when Jo mentioned having a thought about their trial claim, feeling like her breath was caught in her throat. When Jo said that it wasn't bad, her body relaxed and she sighed. "Okay, Miss. What's on your mind?"

Jo

"If they don't want you too, my girl, then they're not part of our future. Our claim comes first, and no one gets to come in and not be into you. Because y'all are important to me, and you'd need to be important to them as well. And you will never, ever be forgotten." DJ's quick breath reminded Jo that she needed to be more gentle with her questions. "So, I've been reading some of the old trial approvals that are on file, and I noticed something. A collar is an option for a trial, but so is a set of cuffs. And I wondered if that might be something fun - to do a set of cuffs for the trial and then a collar for our permanent claim. But I want to know how that'd make y'all feel. Would you rather a collar? Honest answers, please, don't tell me what ya think I want to hear."

DJ

She smiled softly at the Domme's words. "It's really nice to hear you say that, Miss." She bit down on her bottom lip as Jo stated the question that she wanted to ask. Her hand lifted to her neck and rubbed and the space where a collar would one day rest. "I'm...really looking forward to wearing your collar. But if you think it would be better to wear cuffs instead, I can do that, Miss." DJ expressed, dropping her hand from her neck and shrugging slightly. "I understand if you want to wait until it's real to get me a collar."

Jo

"It's just the honest truth, my girl. Simple as that." Jo nodded. "That was why I wanted to ask, darlin' girl. A trial doesn't mean it's not real to me, and I want it to feel real to you too. So we're gonna get a collar for the trial and another one for our permanent claim. Actually, I have the one for our permanent one already, but that's neither here nor there. That's the way we'll go." She pulled DJ a little closer to kiss her. "I can't wait to see you wear my collar."

DJ

"But you clearly thought about me wearing cuffs for you, My Miss. If that's something you want then I would be willing to do it for you. I will have forever with your collar around my neck. So I can wear a cuff for you if you want that." She perked up when Jo said that she had her collar already. "You already picked it out for me? That's...I have to wait until you claim me to see it right?" She paused, moaning as lips pressed against her own. When Jo pulled back, she felt like like she was high on it. "I'm so excited. But I love that you already want it."

Jo

Reaching up, Jo cupped DJ's cheeks with her hands and smiled. "I thought about it, yes. But I wanted to know what y'all thought before I made any plans. What I want is for you to tell me what you'd rather wear, and you did. If I find a pair of cuffs that really speaks to me or something, then maybe ya can have both. But otherwise we'll go with the collar." The way that Dalia's expression picked up at finding out about her permanent collar made Jo smile in return. "Y'all do have to wait, yes. That's a special thing that doesn't come out until the day I put it on ya." Her own smile felt so big that she didn't know how her face could contain it. "There isn't a single doubt in my head, darlin'. You're my girl, and there's nothin' we could find out in a trial that's goin' to change my mind."

DJ

As Jo cupped her cheeks, her eyes fell shut and she let out a soft breath. "But I want to please you. And if that will please you, I will do it." She smiled when Jo spoke again. "Okay, Miss. That sounds like a very good idea." She pouted when the Domme said she had to wait. "Will you let me look at it for a while before you put it on me? Just because like...I really want to see it." DJ expressed, biting down on her bottom lip. "When did you find it? Did you have it already or did you find it for me?" She grinned and nuzzled into Jo's shoulder again. "Your girl. No one else's. Ever."

Jo

"Y'all did please me, darlin'. You told me what would make you feel good. That's all I'd ever ask." Her little pout was so adorable that Jo had to kiss it away before she went on. "You'll have a nice long look, I promise. It's in a little display box, and on the night I give it to you we're going to sit at the table and have dinner with it waiting there. Then I'm goin' to ask you if y'all want it, and then I'll put it on. So I promise you'll get a good look." Jo shook her head. "I found it for ya. I ordered it a while back, but it just came in a week or two ago." She was beyond excited, but for her own sake she couldn't bear to take it out of the box until the time came. It would hurt too much to put it back. "Not ever," she agreed. "My perfect, amazin', darlin' girl."

DJ

She hummed when Jo said that she had pleased her by being honest and she toyed with her Domme's shirt gently. DJ let the sound of Jo's voice wash over her as she explained what the night she got her collar would be like. She painted a beautiful, perfect, picture. Her heart swelled again when Jo said that she had found the collar for her. There was something so profound about knowing that Jo had spent time finding her forever collar for her. She felt tears well up and she rubbed at her forehead slightly in response, a wet chuckle falling from her lips. Emotions were weird things sometimes. "I can't wait to see it." It would be a while until she got the chance so she was trying not to feel too excited by it, but it was virtually impossible to do so.

Jo

"Oh, darlin', come here," Jo murmured softly, pulling her close and resting DJ's head in the crook of her neck. "I've got you. Right here with me." She knew the exact emotions that her girl was going through, because they were the same ones she'd felt looking through the catalogue of collars to find one that screamed DJ's name at her. "Soon enough, darlin'. But first you'll get to see your trial collar, and that one will hold a place for it. That one I don't have yet, but I'll have the perfect one here before we send our application in."

DJ

She didn't fight as she was pulled against the Domme, blinking slowly and nodding her head. "Here with you." She repeated quietly. "I'm sure whatever you pick will be perfect." She sighed softly and continued to toy with Jo's shirt. "I'm just so anxious for it to get here. I know I'm yours. But..." She trailed off with a shrug as she closed her eyes again, letting Jo's closeness relax and calm her.

Jo

Jo knew all too well what was on DJ's mind. It was the same twisty, painful thought that sometimes haunted her own - that the longer the day took to come, the more chance there was that someone else would take her away. "But until the day comes, it'll always feel like it might not," she nodded. "I understand, my girl. I wish I could make it come faster, take this wait away, and make sure ya never have to be with anyone but me. But we'll get through it. We'll keep our schedule regular, make sure y'all are here as often as we can swing, and before you know we'll be ready to send in our application."

DJ

Her bottom lip trembled and she nodded her head when Jo finished her thought. It was a nasty one. A terrifying one. One that could sometimes eat away at her in the middle of the night when she was sure that Jo was sleeping and she didn't want to bother her. The thought of Jo being taken away from her in any way was a difficult one to swallow, and it was nice to know that Jo understood. Even if she didn't want Jo to ever think that she would leave. "No matter who I'm with, there's so many parts of me that they don't get. My heart. My soul. My future."

Jo

Shutting her eyes tightly, Jo breathed against DJ for a moment as she drank those words in. It was everything to her, to know that there were parts of her girl that no one else got to see. Got to experience or know or touch. "You know me in a way that no one else does, darlin' girl. Y'all know the past, you know about Bay and the thing my sisters don't know. Y'all are my future. My heart. And my soul." She deliberately echoed DJ's choice of words. "And no one can ever take that away. Not ever."

DJ

Knowing that she knew things about Jo that no one else knew was beautiful. She knew that if Jo found another submissive, she would have to tell her those things. But for now, she felt very protective of that knowledge. DJ felt those three words forming on the tip of her tongue. But she was still afraid to speak them into existence. She should have felt safe enough to say them, but she didn't know if she could handle Jo not saying them back. And so she would wait. After all...the words that they had spoken were just as much, if not more, a promise than those three words. "Thank you. For always saying and being exactly what I need. Thank you for doing your best and for always helping me do better." She mused softly.

Jo

Jo's grip tightened, just a little. "You're so welcome, my girl. And y'all have all of my thanks in return. For being a submissive who helped me remember how to Domme. Helped me remember who I was - and that's not an exaggeration. Thank you for bein' the person I need, for tryin' your utmost at everything you do, and for makin' me not just a better Domme but a better person."

[artificialqueens]

Sunshine, and Glory Too (Trixya) - Chapter 5 - fannyatrollop

A/N: Now that reality’s reared its ugly head, we’re hitting a speedbump en route to happily ever after. 

Previously On: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Valentina was informed that Violet expected her to have derived all the satisfaction she was reasonably entitled to from checking her lady’s behaviour, and that no further abuse would be tolerated. Even so, Trixie continued to see less of Katya than she would like. Chafing under the constant stream of sympathy from Pearl, Kim, and even Violet, if she squinted, Trixie returned to her solitary way of living.

She was not always without company. Adore was beginning to struggle with her human form more than ever, her legs often buckling under her own weight. She said it was bound to happen. For all that taking regular swims in the lake had helped her last longer as a two-legged creature, her body would start to rebel against spending so much time in a state she was not naturally built for without a single drop of ocean water to soothe her. There was no need to worry for her life, what few brains she had been blessed with at birth equipped her with enough understanding to know how to interpret these changes, but it did mean her time at the Academy was coming to an end. Knowing this, Trixie made an effort to see her as often as possible before she would leave them, and would often take turns with Adore’s many friends to help support her in walks about the castle and grounds. She was happy to lend her arm, and to listen as Adore talked about how she needed to get her fill of the campus. She dearly hoped her lack of brains wouldn’t cause her to forget what her home on land had looked like, and all the memories she had made.

“I never once saw you walk this way,” said Trixie, on one of their indoor walks. “What sort of cherished memories do you have from this part of the castle?”

“You had to be there,” Adore replied.

They walked on at a leisurely pace. Trixie pointed out paintings and ornaments so she could ask Adore what sweet moments they brought to mind. Adore either laughed and called her an idiot, or made up some outrageous story Trixie thought might be plausible in a castle with the highest concentration of magical beings she knew of.

They were examining a painting of an imposing lady, making up stories about her identity since neither knew who she had been, when Adore gasped and tugged at her arm, directing her gaze at the object of her amazement.

Katya was wrestling with her voluminous skirts, possibly trying to check if she was in danger of tripping on them. She ventured to take a few steps while Trixie and Adore looked on, unsure in her footing. The gown itself was a vivid red, accented in gold, with a ruffled collar. Her hair was threaded with roses; Valentina had said that roses were her kingdom’s most famous export. Katya had never looked so stately, not in the time Trixie had known her. She was accompanied by Ginger, who was busy talking to an artist with some frustration as they strode through the halls at an agonizingly slow pace.

Adore shouted Katya’s name, and waved with her free arm. Trixie gave a smaller wave, and when Katya turned to look at them, she merely smiled and nodded in their direction. Her fists were tight around the fabric of her skirts.

***

It had been many nights since they saw each other, so Trixie saw no harm in sneaking off to see her later that night. Katya told her all about how the artist had been dissatisfied with the lighting in her private quarters, and led them in a painful procession in search of a room he would find more suitable to draw her miniature portrait. The man was determined to find fault in every room they came across, so Ginger had to force a decision on him.

“She was practically breathing fire by the time we settled on a room,” she said, with a laugh.

Trixie traced the marks left on Katya’s body by her corset. Katya wasn’t much used to wearing the amount of finery imposed upon her that day, and had pointed out the imprints as soon as she’d undressed so Trixie could pity the sorry state she’d been left in from having to be a proper lady.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop to speak to you and Adore,” Katya continued. “I was trying to navigate my gown.”

“I should like to see you manage your wedding gown,” Trixie teased. “I hope you reach the altar safely.”

Katya laughed, though her eyes did not express true mirth.

“I looked like the ghost of menses past,” she said.

“We should go back and check if you left a bloody trail.”

“Probably from my poor feet!”

Trixie asked her to let her see those poor feet, and Katya shifted so she could take one in her hands. She did not see a source for a trail of blood, but she did her part in rubbing away the soreness she must have felt. She worked at Katya’s feet while she laid back, in perfect bliss. When she was quite through with that, Trixie laid kisses on Katya’s chest, where the corset had left grooves, while her fingers traced the marks on her sides. She kissed her way to Katya’s lips, and asked if she had taken care of all her pain.

“No,” she responded, with a quick kiss to Trixie’s lips. “Not until I’ve made love to you.”

***

Katya was reluctant to let her go in the morning. She held Trixie close as they stood at her doorway, as if she would vanish into dust unless she kept her close to her chest. Trixie assured her of her love, of her resolve to see her as much as their situation allowed until it was no longer possible.

“Remember what you said, when they told me about my marriage?” Katya asked, loosening her grip so they could see each other’s faces.

Trixie could not recall what Katya might like to hear repeated, out of all the things that had been said back then.

“You told me,” Katya said, with purpose. “That if we were to be parted, you would have me as long as I found my way back to you.”

“Of course,” Trixie said, placing a hand on Katya’s face and furrowing her brow.

“Do you think—I couldn’t hate you for carrying on without me, but is there a chance that you would wait? Even now?”

Trixie nodded her assent. She did this even as her rational side reminded her that once Katya was wed, she would truly be lost to her. She only thought of leaving Katya without a doubt as to the depth of her feelings, so that she may always remember her love, even if she never got to hold her again.

Katya kissed the corner of her mouth, and let her go at last.

Ginger later called on Trixie, to request that she stop coming to Katya’s quarters entirely for a few weeks. Katya, she said, needed to polish her manners, and to be briefed on the court she would preside over in due time. Since, as they both knew, Katya could be prone to distraction, it would be appreciated if Trixie could leave them to their business.

“Also, Madame Visage is likely to pop by at any moment. Katya is to receive an envoy from her fiancé’s court at some undecided date,” she said, making a sour expression. “They delight in surprising those beneath them, and will send envoys off at their leisure with no attention to the amount of time we need to prepare for them. In any case, I wouldn’t want you to have to meet Visage, she’s a common cause of headaches and I wouldn’t put it past her to stop for tea unannounced.”

She sighed, giving Trixie a wan smile.

“Also, she doesn’t like you.”

Ginger made the motions that usually signalled her departure, but stopped abruptly before the final flourish.

“Lady Trixie,” she said, looking her dead in the eye. “There’s something I need to ask you, and I need you to answer honestly.”

Trixie nodded, bid her to continue with the promise of complete honesty.

Ginger seemed reluctant to proceed. Trixie couldn’t quite read her. She wasn’t sure if she ever had been able to understand her, when she thought of it. What she did understand, despite her desire to be free of her company, of the tense air that hung between the two of them, was that Ginger wasn’t her enemy. It didn’t make it any more comfortable to face her steely gaze, but she felt it to be true.

“Do you love her?”

Though she took a pause, Ginger held up a pudgy finger to signal that it was not time for Trixie to respond.

She carried on.

“There is no safety in choosing to be with Katya, she has nothing a girl like you would be looking for in a partner. You will not have a country estate, or a steady income. The most you can count on is my protection. Would you choose her over an advantageous marriage?”

Trixie didn’t have to think about her answer.

“I have never had riches in all my life,” she said. “My position has never been secure. I can’t miss what I never had, but I know that if I did not have to resign myself to losing Katya, I would be a fool to let her go.”

“So you do love her.”

Trixie responded with a resolute yes.

Having gotten what she wanted from her, and delivered her message, Ginger vanished.

***

When she woke to Fame gently shaking her awake, Trixie thought she might still be dreaming. Fame rarely had business with her, and when she did, she never sought her out until she’d at least had breakfast. She sat up to receive her, careful not to disturb Kim, who was curled up beside her.

“Fame? What’s the matter?”

“I have a letter for you,” said Fame, pressing some sheets of paper, folded all together, into her hands. “I was asked to give it to you before you could hear whatever is in it talked about in the halls. I haven’t looked at it, so I don’t know what it is that you need to hear. I’m sorry for disturbing you, you can go back to sleep if you wish.”

Fame kissed the top of her head and squeezed one of her wrists before disappearing. Still groggy from sleep, and more than a little bit confused, Trixie placed the letter on her nightstand so she could read it when she was fully rested.

When she finally greeted the morning, she was surprised to see the letter waiting where she’d placed it. The encounter with Fame had been so out of the ordinary, she had convinced herself that she dreamt it. Kim had taken to sleeping longer than she ought to, having few real tasks to occupy her time. Trixie was careful to let her be as she got ready for breakfast, and took the letter with her so she could look at it then. If it was something horrible, she thought, if her mother had died, or her father had been taken to prison, a note would arrive at breakfast for both her and Pearl to read. She thought nothing of it.

She ate with Violet and Pearl, as usual, and wrapped some fruit and bread in a bundle to set aside for Kim.

Fame would regularly join them at breakfast. She didn’t eat, but she would bring letters if there were any, and liked to check in on her “little chickens”. That morning, she came to them with no mail, but with concern etched across her features. She sat herself next to Trixie, placing a hand on her back as if comforting her from a hurt she did not know she had suffered.

“Trixie, have you had a chance to read the letter I gave you this morning?”

Fame spoke softly, but Violet and Pearl were shooting inquisitive looks at the pair of them.

Trixie shook her head.

“No, but I have it right here,” she said, picking it up from where she’d laid it on the table.

“You must read it right away,” said Fame. “I have gathered some intelligence this morning from the other fae, and I fear you may find it distressing.”

Fame left her, upon inquiries from Violet as to the nature of these distressing news, to gather Pearl and Violet into a faraway corner of the room where they could hear without anything reaching Trixie’s ears. More than a little alarmed, Trixie unfolded her letter.

It read as follows:

Lady Trixie,

Katya has run away, and I’ve gone with her. Don’t worry, she will be safe whether she likes it or not. Her well-being has been my first priority since she was placed in my care, and though at first I was convinced that proceeding with the marriage was best for her, I soon saw the error in that way of thinking. She should never have been brought to the Academy.

I wish to apologize for the little trick I played on you. It was best to have you out of the way while we planned our escape. Katya didn’t approve of the deception, but I have to say, despite my love for her, that she lacks knowledge in the ways of the world. That’s her biggest weakness, her head is too far in the clouds.

In any case, I explained to her that having you involved from the outset would only bring misfortune to the both of you. If you were to flee together, the consequences could reach your future sovereign, and by extension your sister. She’s inviting enough trouble onto herself as it is. We can’t predict how vindictive the Prince of G— will be, but it’s always best to plan for the worst case scenario, humans tend to run hot in temper. The first point in the Academy’s Code of Conduct is that International Incidents are Not to be Tolerated, and at least if it’s just Katya fleeing the scene it can be framed as a foolish girl with no remarkable origins snubbing the future king of a moderately powerful nation. They may just say Oh, a Pox on Her, and let it be. If, on top of that, she was known to have removed a lady from the loving care of her future queen, you could imagine how inconvenient that would be for us.

If you want to rage and blame anyone for leaving you behind, I hope that you have reasoned that the proper target for that is me.

Perhaps we will meet again, when the dust settles. We can only hope there won’t be much of it, but I have seen armies raised over pettier matters. If only your kind could be prevailed upon to be creatures of sense!

Ginger

Katya was not illiterate. She could read and was capable of writing, but she was a horrible correspondent. Whenever Trixie wrote to her, she would soon be confronted with either herself or Ginger calling on her to give a verbal response. It was always a sight to watch Ginger dutifully try to convey Katya’s gestures, as well as an unedited account of her words.

Looking back, once the shock wore off, Trixie would wish Katya had written at least one line herself.

She read the letter once, twice, and then a third time, as if the contents would change if she revisited it. She then set it down over the dregs of her breakfast, letting her body carry her out the door, past her friends and the ever-present concern she was tired of having to bear.

She didn’t cry, only moved as fast as she could until she was in the wing where Katya’s rooms had been. The door gave easily when she pushed it. Inside, it was as if all trace of Katya had been scrubbed. The little baubles Ginger had made, to decorate the rooms and cheer her up when she had just arrived, were nowhere to be found, as well as the stuffed raccoon she would sometimes wear on her head to make Trixie laugh. In fact, there was no furniture, or anything to suggest the rooms had been lived in. They were a blank canvas, waiting to be filled up by another lucky girl, hopefully one who would be more grateful than their most recent mistress.

She didn’t cry, but she did sink to the ground, where she must have been found and taken back to her bed.

[chargenovasmash]

Six Drink Sara (Pt. 1)

Cousins AU, written (almost) entirely by @pathfindersemail and "finished" by me. Putting this up in two parts because patience is not my virtue. Expect Part 2 later today!

Sara takes advantage of Kian’s offer of free drinks a little too much while waiting for Reyes.

Six drink Sara was a phenomenon hitherto unknown. 

Sure enough, one drink Sara has made constant appearances here and there. Any form of mild celebration or any need to diffuse an otherwise awkward social environment could always be helped with some liquor courage. 

Two drink Sara was less common but not infrequent. It was a dancey kind of state-of-being that wrought havoc in many a parties. Collateral damage included embarrassing vidcon calls and vandalized private property. 

Three drink Sara was less destructive and more verbally incisive. The Romans, lost now to the annals of antiquity, once claimed “in wine, truth.” Well, in Sara’s case, truth had to slush through three fruity drinks, all involving tequila. Three drink Sara made an appearance about five times in her life: twice during a long and drawn out break-up, and once during a bitter fight with her brother. 

Four drink Sara happened every New Year’s party. She normally downed them in succession so as to bypass the preceding phases of her alcoholism. It was the sort of famed “black out drunk” that she would promise to be rid of come next day, but the temptation to swim in spirits at the end of every year was much too strong. 

Five drink Sara had only happened once. She was single, desperate, and teetering at the edge of academic probation in graduate school. The one available outlet for a frustrated grieving pupil like Sara was a one-night-stand she’d rather not remember, and that was that. 

The sixth drink, as mentioned, has yet to happen, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At this point, Sara’s face was pasted on a dance pole while the entirety of her body lay limp against a wall. Her eyes were closed, wearied from a hard night’s work. Still, it didn’t stop her from setting a low-toned growl anytime a passerby offered to move her. 

SAM, meanwhile, labored tirelessly to clear out her bloodstream.

“Hey, Pathfinder!” 

Kian’s voice was honestly the last thing she wanted to hear at that moment. 

“Had about enough?” 

“Ggnnngh,” she grumbled quite irreverently. 

“Listen, I can move you to the lounge. Got a bit more privacy there.” 

The barkeep ran a helpless hand through his scalp. Kian wasn’t one for playing cordial host, least of all to guests too drunk to truly know the merits of such sacrifice. Yet, it would look especially bad if the boss came back and found his… “sweetheart” near-unconscious by a dance pole. It would look really bad.

“Pathfinder…” 

“Gnngh Awnnnngy!” The command came out in a half-mumble. Eyes and face still plastered shut, her hand waved around in a failed attempt to swat him out like a fly. “Nnnnngnhtirednn…” 

“Well, if you’re tired, I can send for your people, eh? Your ship isn’t far. No trouble at all-...” 

“NNNnnngh!” 

Sara shook her head violently, momentarily threatening to lose her balance and make even more of a scene and setting herself and the bartender at quite the obnoxious impasse. Reyes would come back. He had to, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to be standing right here when he did. Kian, irritatingly undeterred, folded his arms in front of his chest and muttered something about never giving free drinks to high-profile patrons again. 

All the while, SAM remained a busy bee. 

Sara, I managed to slightly lower your blood alcohol concentration. You should be able to speak more coherently now. 

Since the opportunity presented itself… 

“Kian...go...awayyyyyy!” 

Her arm managed to swat at him quicker than before, but, thankfully for Kian, her reflexes were still much too depressed to stand a chance against the otherwise mediocre movements of a fully sober person. 

“Ryder, don’t make a fuss now, eh? It isn’t good for business if the Pathfinder’s passed out half dead on my floor!”

Kian inched closer in slow and steady movements, lest he frighten her into utter hostility. “Let’s just calm down… relax…”

He muttered an endless string of words to coax her into compliance. It almost worked, too. His hands were just within reach of her shoulders. The poor bartender broke out into a sweat, no doubt ridden with the anxiety of the plan ultimately failing. 

“Just calm down. Everything will be o-...!” 

Sara’s arm leapt from her side once more, and a Ioud thud thundered against his jaw as if the very bones holding his face together quaked upon impact. Kian flew in one fell swoop down to the floor, making an ungraceful landing. Drunk as she was, Sara Ryder could really pack an uppercut. 

 “Fuck!” 

Kian scrambled away, clutching at his nose and loudly spouting curses as blood oozed across his cheeks. Sara, on the other hand, remained in her stupefied state; blessed was she, at five drinks, for she would never even remember what she had done to poor, innocent Kian. 

“Yeah, it’s your fucking girl.” 

Kian had a frozen slab of space cow pressed against his jaw, trying to do his best to yell as loudly as possible without letting the levels of pain exceed a certain threshold. He made sure to stand in full view of the holo, hoping that the sight of him could speak for itself. 

“What are you on about?” Irritation lined Reyes’s voice, clearly unamused by whatever sort of inconvenience befell his bartender.  He knew, of course, and despite the pricks of genuine concern in the back of his neck it was quite high on the list of things he’d rather not have to deal with at the moment.

“The Pathfinder!  Do you see my face? Do you see it?! Look at it!” 

He made sure to point at the bloodied streak scarring his face. Reyes was grateful at the moment that the technology of vidcon calls hadn't quite reached a state where the aggravated roll of his eyes would come through crystal clear on the other end. 

“Calm down, Kian!” 

As if that was ever going to work. 

“You calm down! I don’t get paid enough for this shite. I’m charging you extra, just so you know. I’m slapping a protection fee on that damn room!” 

Reyes pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to gather what he could of the remainder of his patience. 

“What exactly do you want me to do about it? I’m not just sitting on my ass while you play babysitter!” 

“Do something!" Kian retorted. It was a fair enough demand, he thought. “She’s your girlfriend!” 

“She’s not-...” The sentence was almost a reflex, but, come to think of it, it wasn’t a decision they had made just yet. The very distinction seemed somewhat academic given the nuisance he was presented with for that evening. 

“Nevermind!” he groaned through gritted teeth. “I’ll take care of it.” 

He hung up the call before he could hear Kian sing an inaudible praise of hallelujah. Time was of the essence, and he wasn’t about to dilly-dally in the midst of a such a sensitive operation. Without losing a beat, Reyes called the most reliable person he could think of. 

An uncomfortably long time passed before the armored hologram flickered into existence in front of him. The insufferable smartass always took her sweet time to answer, but answer she did. 

“What?” 

Straight to the point. That was how he knew she was reliable. “I need a favor.” He looked nervously around, as if watching for time to pass him by in the precious seconds he took making such backdoor deals. 

“It’s almost like you’ve ever called me for anything else.” 

“You’re a riot, Puck,” he said bitterly, not exactly willing to be out-witted in their banter. Reyes then quickly wound back to the matter at hand. “I need you to grab someone for me.” 

“Well, I can do that,” she said with unnecessary innuendo. He could almost hear the smirk behind her mask. Normally, he would extend the joke, but both time and Kian’s patience were running thin. 

“You’re looking for Sara Ryder. Tartarus. I’d appreciate it if you could safely," - he paused to make sure that the keyword was properly and exaggeratedly enunciated- “return her to her ship. I’ll send you the navpoint for the docking bay.” 

An unexpected pause followed through the line. Her holographic image was so still, Reyes thought the line froze and was cut off. 

“Puck?” 

“I got it,” she answered almost immediately, dispelling the jarring effect of her hologram’s motionlessness. She crossed her arms, readying for a joke. 

“So, I’m taking out your trash now, too?” 

Barring the jab, Reyes couldn’t have heard sweeter words. A sigh of relief rolled through his shoulders after moments of tense aggravation. He quickly gave his send-off before rushing out. 

“Don’t make me regret this.” 

The soundless static of a dead line briefly filled the room before fading back into ambient noise. The Charlatan could now resume his work unimpeded.

[mirajens]

morning will come

an installment from I’ll crawl home to her.   paring: miraxus rating: m genre: romance found on ff.n

Love in the home of play-actors. (Or: how to fall out of love and pretend otherwise.)

She can feel him falling out of love with her.

It’s not something Mirajane notices suddenly; it’s a long creeping sentiment that finally comes to a solid conclusion one night while they two of them are having dinner in the apartment they share. She can’t tell what brings on the abrupt realization that the man she’s given everything to has stopped loving her. Could it be how they sit face to face but he feels lightyears away? Could it be how he’s tapping lazily at his phone instead of making conversation with her? Could it be the whole vibe he gives of wanting to be anywhere else but here? Mira can’t quite put a finger on it.

A woman just knows what she knows, she thinks to herself with no spike of dudgeon, just a sense of hopelessness she hasn’t felt in quite a while. She looks at Laxus, feels her desperation surge, and it’s not until he looks up from his own preoccupation and points out that she hasn’t eaten a single bite that she realizes she’s trying to memorize every small detail of his face as if he’ll fade away at any given moment.

It’s slow, so slow, how he lets her go. When Mirajane tries to wrap her arms around him, he’s stiff as if he wants to recoil. When she kisses him, he turns his head just a little away so her lips land the tail end of his scar. She always looks betrayed after such occurrences but just until a nanosecond later, when Laxus’ eyes find hers as if to check if he has hurt her too much- if he has finally pushed her over the edge.

But Mirajane’s expression has already been reeled in and she’s smiling that sweet little smile at him as if it doesn’t hurt, as if she’s not just waiting for him to dispose of her. She’s not going to be the one to draw the line; she’s not going to be the one to end what she can prolong.

He still fucks her, though.

I guess he hasn’t found that part about me repulsive yet.

They’ve know each other since childhood, been together for six years and living together for two. He’s never liked doing it in the shower until recently and Mirajane tries not to wonder too much on the why. Maybe he wants to wash you off him as soon as he’s done. His hands are on her tits, his lips on hers. Like this, she can still tell herself everything is okay and he’s still in love with me. His kiss is so tender, so loving. It almost feels like a mercy before death.

Then, he breaks away, turns her around and urges her to bend over. Mirajane presses her face against the wall and sighs when he slips inside. The slap of skin against skin echoes against the tiled room, coalescing with pleasure noise. Her moans climb when Laxus’s longest fingers find her clit and he rubs masterfully. It feels much too good so she comes in no time, crying out his name like back then when she still had to ask him to stay the night because leaving each other seemed detriment.

She speculates the possibility that he remembers feeling that way. Maybe he does. He’s holding me so close. It almost feels enough to balm over all the hurt.

But the false sense of hope doesn’t even take root before Laxus pulls out, grabbing her hips so he can turn her and says with a hoarse voice, “Mira, baby…” and she already knows what he wants.

He doesn’t even say please anymore. She gets on her knees and gets to work. His grip on her hair is never painful but it’s probably not out of consideration, more out of habit because she never continues when he pulls. He grunts and pants but he never says anything. When he comes in her mouth, he doesn’t even say thank you, or I’m sorry for being an asshole, sorry for not even trying to fix what’s broken, sorry I’m gonna leave you soon. Above her he just groans as his carnality ebbs into something indolent. She’s not even done wiping at her lips when he gives her an almost perfunctory kiss on the head, turns away and starts lathering his hair with shampoo.

When did they stop talking after this? When did sex start being just something convenient and stop being so romantic? When did he stop holding her after, covering her with kisses, singing her praises, telling her thank  you, I love you, I never want to not have my hands on you.

Mirajane stands on shaky legs, pushes for space under the shower’s spray and washes the last 10 minutes off her skin. They share a two foot width of legroom with miles between them until Laxus, as if he’s just noticing her for the first time tonight, looks at her and says, “Oh, Gramps wants to have dinner on Thursday. You free?”

With no strength to put up anymore pretense, no more desire to meet his gaze, Mira nods, hiding under the curtain of her hair. “Yes.”

Laxus has work that takes him away many days. Maybe this new job is what truly started taking his heart elsewhere and keeping it there. Mira conjures up possibilities of a “someone else” but nips the thought in the bud. She doesn’t need newfangled anxiety on top of existing anxiety right now. She doesn’t need to think of him having already found someone new, not when he’s about to go on another business trip.

Mirajane tries to be the one to take him to the airport as much as possible. It’s more time with him, just a few more moments with the man she still so badly loves, even if she has a fourteen hour shift at the hospital ahead of her, even if she suspects that another woman is going to be picking him up when he lands. She hazards in front of his terminal. Laxus inspects his bag one last time to check for the essentials (wallet, phone, ticket, and the passport Mira has stuck a post-it with I miss you already written on it, reeking of desperation). He’s talking as he fixes his jacket and reaches behind his seat for the small carry on with 3 days’ worth of clothes. Why can’t he stay still? Why is he trying to do everything at the same time? Is he is that much of a hurry to be rid of me? Mirajane can’t hear the reminders he prattles off (“I did the cheques for the bills last night so you can just drop them off.” “If the old man calls, tell him he can reach me on my cell.” “I picked up the dry cleaning last night. It’s still in my car, can you take them inside? I was in a hurry.”), so focused is she on the look of him: handsome, sharp, the only picture of romance that she has ever known. She brushes away the dastardly intrusive thought that she better take a good look because it’s the last time she can.

“You okay, Mira? Did you hear what I said?”

Mirajane doesn’t startle but she flushes at being caught so distracted. “Of course. Call me when you land, okay? And again when you get to the hotel.”

Laxus is simultaneously checking his watch, hefting his luggage and opening the car door. “I’ll see. I’ll be at dinner with Gajeel until late so you might be asleep by then.” He steps one foot out the car, clearly impatient.

Mirajane grips the steering wheel. At least promise you will. It’s not that hard to call. You know I’ll pick up despite anything, just to hear your voice. “Baby?”

Now he’s out of the car, ducking inside to grab his luggage, having foregone a kiss, a hug, any fucking show of gratitude that I made myself late for work just to drive you here. “Yeah, what? I need to get inside and check in.”

Pride is a bitter pill to swallow but at this point, Mirajane has none left. All she has is her ache for someone who’s right in front of her, and it bleeds out in her tone. “I’ll miss you. I love you so much.”

The play of expressions on Laxus’ face is easy to read: bafflement, irritation, and then guilt. He looks like he’s trying to figure out what to say back. He never used to need to, when his feelings were still genuine. “Yeah, love you. Thanks for the lift.”

He dives in to kiss her but it’s more of him just smashing his lips against hers and then the door closes in her face.

She meets up with Gray for coffee the next day Laxus is gone. She’s not sure why it took so long for her to seek out her most trusted friend, since she’s always valued his insight. She needs male perspective on her plight. And to tell the truth, she is lonely as well.

“At what point is it enough?” Mirajane asks. She’s expounded on her domestic issues to a silent Gray, who has had 3 refills of brewed coffee, two plates of eggs and bacon, and by the looks of it, he’s not going to be done any time soon.  Mira has ordered one cup of coffee since arriving and it’s gone cold since. She samples her tepid brew and thinks: the coffee is still shitty. At least time or change has not touched this place.

“Isn’t that up to your discretion?” Gray answers. He’s a man who answers questions with questions, always on the safe side of things with his lack of commitment. Love and care for his friend as he might, he never gives her any imposing input and Mirajane supposes that’s why she likes him so much.

“I’m asking you. What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

“I don’t know, Mira-chan. I’ve never had to put up with your hollow block of a boyfriend so I have no sage advice.”

Now Mira looks annoyed. While Gray’s unbiased opinion is appreciated most of the time, there are times like this when he is too infuriatingly unhelpful in his neutrality. “Are you telling me I’m paying for your caffeine fix and mammoth breakfast and you’re not even gonna give me a little input?”

Gray finishes chewing before he speaks. He sets Mira on edge as he swallows his food and chases it down with coffee.  “Okay. So if my man was treating me like a blowjob ATM and giving me the bare minimum of affection, I’d have long dumped his ass. But not before making sure he comes home to a trashed apartment and all his clothes down the garbage chute.” Gray drains his coffee and signals for another. Their regular waiter is prompt with the coffee pot. Mirajane declines with a polite smile. When the waiter leaves, Gray continues, “Babe, you weren’t born this hot to live off a man’s emotional scraps. You have to figure out if you still really love him and if all of this is worth it, or if it’s just Stockholm Syndrome now.”

The air goes quiet, stale with unshed tears Mirajane blinks away. Her eyes are red, glossy and burning and her throat hurts but she won’t cry. She allows her hands to shake, though. “I don’t know life without him, Gray. And I don’t think I want to find out.”

She’s seen Gray look disappointed before. But never like this. Never at her. “Then there’s nothing I can do to help you, Mira-chan.”

When Mira gets home, she tries his number. Just like yesterday, it goes straight to voicemail and she doesn’t want to remember the embarrassing amount of messages she has left asking him to call her back when he has the time. So far, all she has that indicates he’s still alive is the bare I’m here. Gajeel’s picking me up and we might be busy until I have to leave. Might extend my stay. I’ll call soon, which he sent five hours after his landing time, as if he just remembered there was someone waiting at home for him.

The thing about modern media is that it almost always fails to give the cheating thing any justice. Surely it’s a plot that’s been beaten dead since the beginning of literature but no one focuses on something that Mirajane figures out one day. No one tells you how disgusting it feels like to be cheated on.

Disregarding the awful sadness and the blinding rage, it’s so easy for a long lost sense of insecurity to show up and swallow one whole. Mirajane tries to remember the last time she indulged such an intrusive feeling and the last she can come up with is during high school when the regulated swimwear failed to hide her modesty by clinging to curves none of her classmates had yet.

She observes herself in front of a mirror, just fresh from the bath. Her figure is great but it’s not what Laxus committed to 6 years ago. Her breasts could be perkier and her thighs could be more toned. She’s softer in her belly since she started dedicating her hours to the hospital and all there was to eat there were miserable cafeteria food. There are bags under her eyes. Does that turn him off, seeing her so tired all the time? A nurse has small need for makeup so Mirajane wears none but tinted chapstick these days.

I bet the girls from his office wear makeup and do their hair and wear pretty clothes. Laxus used to tell me I looked nice when I put in effort back then.

Maybe she should bring that effort back. It wouldn’t hurt to line her lids or curl her pale lashes every now and then. Maybe with rouged cheeks, Laxus will love her again. Maybe if she wasn’t so bland, he wouldn’t leave.

The day Laxus comes home is a Saturday. It’s the busiest day in the hospital week but Mira begged off as ill (and perhaps she really was, with the way she persisted with a man who didn’t want her) just to see him come through the door.

When Laxus comes home, it’s five days after no calls, no messages, no emails, no nothing. For a moment, while sitting in the living room couch and casting glances at the door, she has a moment to ask herself, are you sure he’s gonna be back?  There has been no word of him at all. It was as if he stopped caring at all that she waits, that she holds on.

But the heavy load sitting on her shoulders ebb away lightning quick when the main locks sound and the door swings open. There was Laxus, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, but at least he was home. Finally home so that the constricts against Mirajane’s lungs could loosen even for just a bit.

When she rises to greet him, complete with a smile that swallows so much ego, Laxus has the courtesy to look ashamed of himself. But this is a house of play-actors so he reels it in, smiles like she does and pretends like she does.

“I’m home,” he says, as if that words still means anything to him, as if the dirty laundry in his bags don’t reek of someone else’s perfume,  as if this was going to be the last time he’d come home from an infidelity.

But if he knows Mira, he can do this again and again and again and again and he’d still come home to her open arms. This isn’t something he takes for granted. Or maybe if he does, it is to see how far he can push her until she shoves back. Over time, this reasoning seems to have lost the conviction it used to have so that Laxus himself can’t believe it anymore.

And Mira? She doesn’t seem to want to not believe it, if her gentle gaze is anything to go by.  “Welcome back.”