#don’t expect me to be too quick with the links- I work nights and sleep most of the day

[ruesol]

you condition your roommate, Gojo Satoru, into expecting a forehead kiss every time he leaves for work.

Notes: gender neutral reader

main masterlist

It all started on a Monday morning.

You had read about classical conditioning the night before- when a stimulus is linked to an action that is done routinely. You were feeling cheeky so you decided to test it out on your roommate who you knew had been trying to ask you out for the longest time.

You’ve been waiting for him to explicitly say how he feels but he’s chickened out way too many times. So as revenge, you played mind games with him. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t satisfying to see his shocked expression.

“Satoru, before you leave-“ you skipped to him before he could grab the door handle, and grabbed his arm to turn him towards you.

“-don’t forget this.” You pulled his tie down and kissed his forehead.

The white haired man’s eyebrows reached high enough to almost touch his hairline. “Wha-“

You pushed him out before he could utter another word. “Bye, you’ll be late!”

Soon after that fateful morning, you’d kiss his forehead before work. It became so ingrained in both your routines that he’d simply walk up to you while you were making breakfast and you’d slip him a quick peck.

You almost conditioned yourself to it too. Whenever Satoru would move his hair away from his forehead, your mind would automatically make you lean in towards him. It confused him the first couple times you did it and then you caught yourself on after that. You were the one playing mind games. Not him.

It had been three weeks of giving him forehead kisses when you decided to stop the action.

Your morning started the same way as it always did- you woke up, showered, made your coffee, and then sat down to eat your breakfast. However, it was the opposite for Satoru. He had slept late the night before and woke up with only fifteen minutes to get ready so to say that the apartment looked like it was hit by a hurricane was an understatement.

You saw a flash of white go towards the fridge as you calmly stirred the berries in your oatmeal. “Huh, I was wondering if you had taken the day off.”

“I didn’t. My manager gave me some intern’s report last minute and I had to correct the whole thing. I was up until three am.” You felt bad over how he was rushing to spread jam on his toast so you pulled out a tumbler and began to prepare his coffee as he liked it (so sweet that a hypoglycemic person could be cured).

You could see the effects of sleep deprivation on him- tie crooked, bag half-zipped, shirt tucked out of his slacks and of course, crumbs of bread all of his face. The man looked like a walking mess.

You walked him to the door, handing his tumbler over to him and muttering a small ‘goodbye’ as he shoved his feet in his black leather loafers.

You were about to close the door on him when he stopped you. “Did you forget something?” You innocently asked as you leaned your head to the side while folding your arms.

“No, you did.” He haphazardly moved his hair away from the center of his forehead and pointed at it.

“Why are you doing that?” You wanted to laugh at him so bad but you pinched your arm to prevent it. “What do you mean? You always kiss my forehead.”

“Yeah, but I don’t feel like doing it anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to keep doing it?”

“Yes, I’m way too used to it!” You almost jolted at his urgency. The man was clearly yearning for a forehead kiss.

“But why? It’s weird- only couples do something like that. I don’t know why I did it in the first place.”

“Wow, NOW you care if it’s something couples do?”

Gojo sighed and rubbed his temples with his forefinger and thumb. “Look, I’m really late right now and I don’t have time to explain myself. All I’m gonna say is this- you, me, date at seven tonight. And you best believe I won’t be late for that. Now give me my kiss.”

Your face was flushed after his sudden boldness and you quickly leaned in to press your lips against his sweaty forehead (you had worked him up with your little prank). “I’ll be waiting.” You grinned.

And he had walked right into your trap.

Gojo scoffed at you before closing the door with a small slam. You began jumping as soon as he was out of your vision but your celebration was soon stopped when the door opened

“What now?” You groaned.

The man simply pulled you towards him by your elbow and left a sweet kiss on your cheek. “This.”

—

Trust me when I say that playing mind games like this is a lot of fun. My ex situationship can’t listen to Childish Gambino without thinking of me 🙏

[alexiroflife]

"soft"

flufffffffff, reader is burned out, i love me some toji

toji fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: you ponder over how gentle toji has become with you during your time together

to sum it up: you and toji have a casual relationship, but he just may care about you a little more than he leads on

WC: 2,079

Warning(s): vaguely sexual themes

You had never expected Toji to be as soft of you as he is with you.

The Fushiguro’s hardened exterior combined with his intimidating physical appearance in addition to his unique occupation often sends people walking into the opposite direction of his path when they see him coming. He’s an uncommonly large man with a rather inhospitable air about his bulking frame. 

He’s not very friendly, for he’s often glowering daggers into the backs of people’s heads when they pose as minor inconveniences to him during his day to day, such as standing too close behind him in a line to order food or blocking his view of the television screen where the race he has bet on picks up speed. 

Toji’s a frightening man with an exceptional talent for murdering people swiftly and mercilessly. He isn’t the kind of guy you stop on the side of the road to ask for directions, for he exudes the epitome of unfriendliness. 

When you start seeing him, you truly don’t expect much but a passionate fuck and a short text every other week or so. The two of you don’t have an official title to your relationship, therefore you imagine at first that he can’t care less whether you live or die, leave or stay. 

You don’t think he’s a bad guy initially. While he’s rough around the edges and quick to agitation, he has the decency to text to make sure you get into your home safely though not the position to walk you home from his house. He also doesn’t yell at you when you notice that he is angry, though you understand that is not necessarily something that should be praised. When he’s mad, he puts forth his emotion into the way he fucks into you, hands gripping harshly around your waist while you writhe beneath him as the filthiest words you’ve ever heard in your life fly from his lips, then he’s alright, asking if you enjoyed yourself and going on about his night.

You never expected much from Toji, for you aren’t his girlfriend and he isn’t your boyfriend. But as time goes by, you notice his behavior shift ever so subtly toward you. Before you know it, he’s taking you out to grab food more often before your links, he’s letting you sleep over in his bed from time to time claiming that he ‘doesn’t feel like having to worry about you getting kidnapped on your way home,’ and he’s texting you more, randomly; asking about the movies you want to watch the next time you’re over, demanding to know what time you get off of work so you can visit him, and listening to you talk about your day as you curl up into his sheets under his arm, babbling on as he watches you blankly. 

You don’t think he’s listening to you the first time you start chatting a little while after the post-breathlessness of your orgasm has died down, but then he’s mentioning something you briefly mentioned in your rant the next day casually, tossing it into the air like it’s nothing. 

He tries to make it seem like his shift toward you is something he pays little attention to or doesn’t care about, but you know that this isn’t the case. He grows gentler with you both inside and outside of his bed, hand finding the space on your lower back as he moves carefully around you in public, palm lingering for a few seconds too long before it drops. He begins to put forth more effort toward cleaning you up when he’s done with you, smoothing his calloused hands over the aching muscles in your thighs and bum and running you a shower to wash the fluids from your skin. And his jade green eyes melt into something softer when he looks at you, his expression flat but his gaze cradling you within his vision as though you’re a priceless gem he’s just discovered, something that he must admire and protect. 

Your fling with Toji no longer feels like a fling. Instead, his free time is opening up for you, his phone no longer pings with the names of foreign women, and he’s shamelessing telling you to stay with him as much as you possibly can. He acts so nonchalant about it, but you know it’s a sudden, yet pleasant change for the both of you.

What stuns you the most, however, during this steady transition in dynamics between the two of you is the way he first reacts to your rather rare instance of vulnerability. You’re exhausted, work tiring you to the point where you feel like practically collapsing to the ground face first, your mother nagging you about finding a more stable career, and your rent gradually rising with each passing month you spend in your apartment. You’re completely overwhelmed, feeling trapped within your own skin, and you’re so caught up in your stress that you forget Toji is visiting.

You open the door after you hear that familiar knock pattern of his and greet him with tired eyes and a slumped posture. He towers over you, eyes dragging over your figure to analyze your state. His brow quirks when he examines you, stepping into your apartment after you hold the door open for him. The moment he closes the door, he’s onto you.

“What’s the matter with you?” he poses the question lowly, tilting his head to get a better look at you with his hand on his hip. 

That’s all it takes for you to break down.

Embarrassingly enough, you’re ducking your head and crying before him, shoulders tensing as your hands come to shield your face. Your gentle sobs wrack your frame, and you feel humiliated. 

Toji’s eyes go wide as he looks at you, caught off guard. He isn’t sure if it’s something he has said that’s got you crying all of a sudden, but he feels his heart clench at the sight of you in pain. 

“M’sorry,” you sniffle into your palms. “Rough week.”

You half expect the dark haired assassin to turn away and let you melt down on your own, promising to come back another time, but instead you feel strong arms envelope your figure and wrap you into his chest, holding you softly yet with security at the same time. Your shoulders jerk in shock before you’re crying again, the comfort of Toji’s hold absorbing you into his chest as you continue to weep into your hands. “Alright, girl,” he murmurs gruffly, tilting his chin down to rest his lips against your head. “Let it out.”

His hands, tinged with the blood of millions, gripped with the memory of gruesome deaths, caress tenderly over your back as he wraps you up tighter, sheltering you within his mass. You tremble as he holds you, chest quivering as you snivel in a distorted pattern. Toji can feel you twitching uncomfortably against him, trying to catch your breath.

“Breathe,” he instructs with firm consolation, his hand motion over your back soothing into circles. You whimper, attempting to follow the pace of his breaths that you feel rising in his broad chest. You quiver, struggling a bit more before your breaths ease into a steady pace that mimics his own. “That’s right, you got it. Nice and easy,” he says into your hair.

You nod stiffly against him, pushing your hands down from your face to wind tightly around his waist, sinking further into him. He lifts his chin to look down, trying to sneak a peek of your hidden face. He sighs, bending down to tuck his arm under your knees and keep the other firm against your back. Your arms adjust, winding around his neck and tucking your face into his shoulder as he carries you to your room. 

He sits down on the edge of your bed, keeping you swaddled in his arms. He nods his head down to you, nudging against your forehead to urge you to look at him. You pull away and look up, teary (e/c) eyes swimming with sadness and weariness. Toji twists his lips up to the side, scar stretching with his movements, and he stares tenderly at you, lifting a knuckle to brush at the dampness on your cheeks. You shiver, unfamiliar with this delicate, attentive side to Toji. His face is hardened as though he’s mad, but the concern in his orbs and the fragility of his touch tells you otherwise, that he is only concentrated intensely. 

His thumb wipes at the corner of your lips where a tear or two has drifted before inhaling slowly. “You all there with me, now?” he asks, his voice a low murmur, and you nod, suddenly feeling foolish. He hums in approval, fingers smoothing over your hair. “Good. Now who did this to ya?”

You shake your head slowly. “No one,” you tell him. “It’s nothing, it’s stupid.”

“Well, it can’t be stupid if it’s making your pretty self cry.” You gaze up at him with round doe eyes rimmed with pain. Toji didn’t know how much he hates the sight of you upset until now. “Out with it.”

You shrug, sniffling as you unwrap your arms from his neck and lower your hands into your lap, picking at your nails. “I’m just so tired,” you mutter. “Everything’s been so hectic, I haven’t had a chance to breathe.”

Toji’s eyes search your face as you avert your gaze, shrinking into yourself. “For how long?”

You shrug again. “A few months maybe.”

“You ‘been holding everything in for months?” he repeats incredulously. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know…” you frown, a single tear dribbling down your cheek when you blink. Toji’s chest tightens at the sight. “I’m used to pushing through, I guess. Plus, I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Toji’s brows pinch together as he marvels at your words. “Now that’s stupid,” he sighs. “What you need is a break.

“But I don’t get to take breaks. I have to work so that I can keep the lights on, and rent is due in two weeks but I still have-”

Toji ducks down to shut you up with a featherlike touch of his lips to yours. You stop, subconsciously returning the soft peck with a pout, his hand moving to cradle the side of your head. He pulls away, smirking lightly. “You talk too much.”

He’s then standing up, lifting you along with him, and turning around to lay you onto your sheets. He kneels down, pressing a kiss to your knee, taking off your socks and tossing them aside, then shrugging you out of your jacket. You watch him with slightly baffled red eyes as he touches you as though you’re going to break, each brush of his hand against your skin softer than the last. 

He props up his hands on either side of your thighs on the bed, crouching to pepper soft kisses from your hip up to your abdomen, then over your chest to your collarbone and shoulder. He ducks to kiss your lips gently once more before pulling away to meet your eyes. “Don’t you move an inch from this bed, y’hear me?”

“Wh-”

“Don’t ask questions,” he interjects. His hand is gripping your cheek as he kisses you one last time before pushing himself off of your comforter and away from you. “I’ll be back. I’ll grab you some food, you just text me what you want.”

You ogle at him in awe, nose red as you sniff. “But… what about… tonight…?”

“Don’t stress about that. I gotta take care of you first.” 

He tells you he’ll only be ten minutes and to text him your order before leaving your room. 

You freeze up when you see him stick his head in your door. 

“Oh, and let me take care of that rent for you. You just lay out the details when I get back,” he says, and then he’s gone, leaving you stunned and tear-stained. You did not expect Toji to react so swiftly or understandingly to your predicament. By the way he swept you up and held you, you would have thought that you’re his girl. 

You sigh, sinking back into your pillow with a fuzzy feeling bursting in your chest. Who knew that Toji Fushiguro, the man of steel with cold, calculated brutality in the face of his targets, could be so compassionate?

[kaezerdoodles]

Okay so I DIDNT make a server for Dan fans *specifically* BUT I DID make a server for fans in my niche little corner of the Phandom- for those who enjoy Dan, Vlad and dragons. Writers, artists or simple enjoyers are welcome- shoot me a dm and I’ll hit you up with a link! (18+ only- I very much enjoy spicy talk- I WILL be checking)

Is there is a discord for fellow Dan fans?

I’m having fun connecting with the phandom but I gotta know

Or would anyone be interested in one being made?

[flightlessangelwings]

Us Against the World

Tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 4.4k

Dialogue prompt- “ hey! why don’t you try picking on someone your own size! “ Action prompt- [ DISTRACT ]: sender causes a distraction to draw the receiver’s attacker/s away from them.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY), action, protective!Peter, food mention (reader makes salsa), Peter lifts reader, attempted harm to reader, the villain uses gas and chemistry to attack and reader is described as being trapped in a cloud at one point, reader interacts with kids briefly, no use of y/n

Notes- This month’s Year of Protectiveness is in honor of Andrew Garfield's birthday! I can't believe we're in August already! @yearofcreation2023 But this one was alot of fun to write so I hope y'all enjoy it! And I wrote it so that it could be read in the same timeline as Just Kiss Like Real People Do so if you liked that one, here is more with that pair but of course it could be read on its own! I"ll link it in the taglist rb if you want a refersher!

@flightlessangelwings-updatesis my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs!

~

The city lights illuminated the way as Peter swung through the tall buildings of New York. The air was crisp so high up, and it felt refreshing after a long night of being Spider-Man. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he knew it was late… well after midnight. And even though the villain he was chasing got away… again… all Peter looked forward to was coming home to you.

Peter expected you to be sound asleep in the tiny apartment, so he was surprised when the light from the widow shined like a beacon calling him back. His heart pounded in his chest and he hoped you were alright as he flipped his wrist to shoot a web towards the building and hurled himself into the window. Letting out a heavy breath, Peter ripped off the Spider-Man mask and closed the window behind him.

Just as he was about to call out your name, the sound of the blender filled the space. That combined with the intoxicating aroma of the spices and tomatoes told Peter exactly what you were doing. His stomach growled as he stepped out of the tiny bedroom and into the living space where you were occupied at the kitchen counter. 

He stood in the doorway for a moment and just watched you with a lovestruck expression on his face. Every time he saw you it was like the first time, and even dressed down in a t-shirt and shorts, you looked stunning to him. You were too consumed with putting the last touches on your salsa that you didn’t hear him come in. But, Peter enjoyed the view for the time being and his heart skipped a beat in his chest with the overwhelming emotions he felt towards you.

But, when you let out a startled yelp, Peter quickly jumped into action. 

You had turned around and were surprised when you saw him standing there. So surprised that you almost dropped the blender that held the salsa you had worked so hard on. But Peter was quick, and in a flash he jumped across the room and caught it before it hit the floor and splattered everywhere.

“Peter!” you exclaimed, “You scared the shit out of me! I didn’t hear you come in!”

“Sorry sweetheart,” he mumbled sheepishly as he set the blender on the counter, licking a drop that splashed onto his fingers after, “Wouldn’t want to waste any of your famous salsa,” he laughed softly, “But why are you up? It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged as you eyed him up and down. Ever since you found out that Peter Parker, your best friend, the person you had been in love with for years, was Spider-Man, it never got old seeing him in the suit. His long, toned arms, muscular body and especially the messy hair took your breath away every time.

“Everything alright?” Peter asked, concern lining his tone as he peeled the top half of the suit off and stepped closer towards you. 

“Fine,” you fidgeted as you felt your skin heat up under his gaze as your eyes dropped down to the floor, “Just thought you’d be hungry when you got back…” your voice sounded distant.

Peter looked at you with a softness and adoration in his eyes as he reached out and cupped your face, gently pulling you to look at him, “You know I know when you’re lying to me, right?” his voice was soft as his thumb brushed your cheek.

You let out a shaky breath as his eyes locked with yours, “I…” you trembled in under his hand, “I was worried…” you admitted.

“Baby,” Peter rested his free hand on your waist, holding you in his special way, “I’m fine, honestly. You know nothing would ever keep me from coming back to you, right?” he exhaled deeply, “I promise,” he took a breath, “You and me, remember?”

Tears filled the corners of your eyes at the sincerity in his voice and the confident look in his face. You knew he had been Spider-Man for a long time now, he had his powers and he knew what he was doing. Yet, you’d never loved anyone as much as you loved Peter, and sometimes you couldn’t help but worry as your mind went to the worst possible scenario. 

“I know,” you breathed. You opened your mouth to say more, but the words were caught in your throat as Peter reeled forward and kissed you deeply. Somehow, you were sure he knew what you were going to say, how much you worried for him. He said it in his kiss. 

“Sweetheart,” Peter mumbled between kisses as he backed you up against the counter, “As much as I love your salsa…” his voice dropped and his eyes darkened, “There’s something else I want right now…”

“Peter!” you couldn’t help but laugh at his insinuation, but you also felt a pulse of need through your body. You clung to his shoulders as your mind swam and your body warmed.

He let out a soft chuckle as his hands roamed up and down your sides, savoring the feeling of you under his touch. As much as it was a comfort to you to feel Peter’s hands on you, to feel his touch, it was just as much a comfort for him to know you were here and safe. Peter’s cock twitched as his hands dipped under the waistband of your shorts and in a flash he yanked them off of you, causing you to yelp in surprise.

But, before you could react to your shorts and underwear suddenly on the floor, you found yourself hoisted up onto the kitchen counter. Giggles erupted between you as Peter nestled himself between your legs… your bare legs. A low groan unlike anything you ever heard rumbled from deep in Peter’s throat as his eyes landed between your legs.

“Fuck…” he breathed heavily in a tone that made you shiver.

“Pete,” you sighed as you watched him drop down to his knees.

Immediately, you buried your hands in his hair as his hands ghosted along your inner thighs. Peter mumbled your name in a praise before he licked his lips and dove into you, causing you to scream loudly.

You saw stars as Peter worked you with his tongue, licking and slurping every sensitive spot with precision. You could tell even in your blissed out state that he was too desperate to tease you and take it slow tonight. Tonight was all about need; it was the need for both of you to know the other was here.

Tugging at his hair, you felt like your body was on fire from the way he worked you with his talented mouth. Every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure up your spine, and you were sure you weren’t going to last much longer. You arched your back as parted your legs more to give Peter more access to your body, an invitation that he immediately accepted. 

“Shit… Pete…” you moaned as you felt your body tingle.

Peter grabbed your inner thighs and squeezed hard as he intensified his motions, determined to push you over the edge in bliss. And from the way you screamed his name, he knew you were close.

It only took a few more licks of his tongue, a few more nibbles of his lips, one last nuzzle of his head before you came hard. Your head slammed against the cabinet as you screamed, your legs trembling under his strong grip as you gushed into his mouth. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as bursts of color clouded your vision.

As Peter coaxed you down from you high, you felt his movements slow before he reluctantly broke away from you. A trail of spit connected the two of you until he moved far enough for it to break, but in the corner of his mouth remained a shiny dribble of your release. Peter watched until you opened your eyes to lick it clean with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Delicious,” he chuckled as he rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around you, “But I’m not done with you yet,” he tone dropped as he easily picked you up and spun you around.

“Pete!” you yelped as you wrapped your arms and legs around his strong body. No matter how many times he lifted you up, you never quite got used to his super strength, and it caught you off guard in the most wonderful way every time.

He quickly made his way across the small apartment and gently lowered you down onto the bed, handing you with tender care as he did so. Peter stood for a moment and admired the sight of you, spread out on the bed, naked from the waist down and a look of pure bliss on your face. Hastily, he ripped off his Spider-Man suit so he was bare for you, and the way you eyed him hungrily made his cock stiffen even more.

“Like the view, sweetheart?” he asked with a cocky grin.

“Very much,” you purred as you bit your lip and extended your arms for him. You loved when he got like this.

“I do too,” his tone matched yours as he hovered over you, “But,” Peter grabbed your shirt, “You’re overdressed.”

You burst into laughter at his antics and allowed him to take off your shirt, the only barrier between your bodies. The two of you let out matching gasps at the sight of the other, as if it was the first time all over again. At times, it felt like that for both of you. The wonder, the passion, the desire never got old so matter how many times you slept together.

“I love you,” Peter broke the silence with a breathless voice as he cupped your face.

“I love you too,” you replied in a dreamy tone as you mirrored his action.

In a flash, Peter closed the gap between your bodies with a heated and desperate kiss. He swallowed the moan you let out as you parted your lips for him once more. The taste of yourself on Peter’s tongue was just as intoxicating for you as it was for him, and you bucked your hips against his hardened cock in a wordless plea.

Without breaking away, Peter muffled a moan as he positioned himself between your legs once more, this time with his cock poking at your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you, past the first ring of muscle and into your warmth to connect your bodies together.

The moan you let out made you break away from the kiss, and your cry of pleasure echoed in the tiny room as Peter entered you inch by slow inch. You heard Peter’s own moans as he felt you engulf him, and he rested his forehead against yours as he slowly bottomed out inside of you.

Together, the two of you laid with Peter on top of you. Heavy breaths filled the room as you stayed with your sweaty foreheads pressed together. You wrapped your arms around him and dug your nails into his shoulders, clinging to him desperately.

“Move,” you pleaded softly.

He groaned your name and compiled without another word. He started slowly at first, rocking in and out of you, savoring the moans and groans you let out every time he was fully sheathed inside you. It wasn’t until you let out a higher pitched cry that Peter picked up his pace; he found what he was looking for.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” Peter moaned, “Shit…”

The bed creaked as Peter thrust in and out of you faster and faster. As much as he wanted to keep his eyes open, to watch every expression you made when he was inside you, he couldn’t. He knew he would cum too fast if he watched the way your mouth hung open and your body bounced with his every move.

But luckily for him, you also weren’t far behind.

“Fuck!” you screamed as you dug your nails into Peter’s skin, “I’m gonna cum… Peter…”

“Me too baby,” Peter grunted, “Fuck…”

Peter’s thrusts became fast and erratic as he chased his climax as well as your own. He pounded into you with fervor as you screamed and your second climax hit suddenly. Your inner muscles clenched around him as you squeezed him inside and out. That and your beautiful screams were just the final push Peter needed for his own orgasm, and with a loud moan of your name, he came deep inside you. But, he kept going, wanting to savor every second of your shared climaxes together until he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. 

Peter let out a deep exhale as he collapsed down on top of you. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close as you could. Neither of you wanted to move, content to stay in the other’s embrace, safe and loved. For several long moments, no one spoke, and just the sound of slow, deep breaths filled the room as you felt the other’s heart pound against your bodies.

It was Peter who broke the silence first with your name in a low voice.

“Hmm?” you hummed as you ran your hand through his hair.

“You know I’ll always come back to you, right?” Peter said as he propped himself up on his elbows to look into your eyes.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, “I know,” you cupped his face the same way he did yours earlier, “I trust you… I just worry sometimes,” you admitted.

“I do too,” Peter breathed, “But I’ll always keep you safe, sweetheart.”

The truth was Peter always worried about you too. He was scared that someday someone would find out his superhero alter and use you against him. He was scared that one day you would get hurt because of him. He was scared that one day he might not get back to you in time… But, as much as you trusted him, Peter had to trust you too. Having no one else, it was just the two of you against the world.

“I’m gonna go shower then we can sleep in tomorrow,” Peter broke himself from his thoughts, “How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you purred as you gave him a chaste kiss on the lips, “A day at home together sounds like just what we both need. But remember, the day after is that science museum day I wanted to go to.”

Peter let out a soft laugh as he tapped your face playfully, “I wouldn’t miss it, baby.”

*

“Looks like we came on a school field trip day,” you commented as you and Peter walked hand in hand into the science museum.

Children filled the space and chattered excitedly among themselves. The two of you followed close behind the class as you lost yourself in the exhibits. At one point, you broke away from Peter so you could play with one of the hands-on displays, and he couldn’t help but chuckle brightly at you as you were just as excited as the kids were.

As Peter watched you, a thought popped into his head: he was ready to marry you. He had never been more in love with you than he was at that moment as you laughed in fascination at the exhibit. He wanted to marry you for some time, but as he stared stupidly at you, Peter knew it was time for him to pop the question.

“Hey Pete…?” your voice broke him from his thoughts.

Peter suddenly found himself face to face with you, and he must have zoned out for a moment because you looked concerned, “Yeah?” he asked as he cleared his throat and tried not to look conspicuous. 

“Everything ok?” you asked as you tilted your head to the side a bit.

Peter just smiled back at you; you had no idea what he had in store for you, “Perfect,” he slid his hand in yours again, “Shall we check out that chemistry demonstration?” his tone was light, “You look like you’re having more fun than the kids are,” Peter joked.

“Shut up,” you giggled as you playfully nudged him.

Peter imagined that your hand would feel like with a ring on your finger as he fiddled with your knuckles. Yes, it was time, and everything was perfect. But, just as it felt like nothing could bring down his mood, a chill ran up Peter’s spine and he was suddenly filled with a sense of dread the moment the two of you crossed the threshold into the other room where the chemistry table was set up.

He stopped dead in his tracks as his heart sank and the hairs on his neck and arms stood up. The man behind the table was instantly recognizable to him; he was the one that kept slipping out of his grasp. And the feeling of dread was only made worse when the chemist looked up from his table and made direct eye contact with him.

It was like he knew.

“Peter?” you sounded even more worried than before as you tugged his arm.

Without a word, Peter dragged you out of the room and down the hallway towards the bathrooms. His heart pounded in his chest as his first thought was of keeping you safe and getting you out of harm’s way.

“Peter?!” you repeated more forcefully, “What’s going on?”

“Listen to me,” Peter grabbed your shoulders and spun you to look him in the eyes, “That guy… He’s…” he let out an exasperated sigh, “He’s the guy I haven’t been able to catch,” he finished in a hushed tone.

You gasped as your eyes went wide.

“I think he knows who I am too. Something just feels off,” Peter sounded more scared than you’d ever heard him before, “But I want you to get out of here, I’m going to stop him here and now.”

“What about those kids?” you asked as your breath came out fast and ragged, “We have to get everyone else out too,” you inhaled deeply, “Let me help you, Pete.”

His lips tightened as he paused for a moment before he spoke with a heavy exhale, “I’m going to create a distraction, and you help them out,” Peter’s grip on your shoulders tightend, “But you promise me you’ll get yourself out of here.”

You nodded, swallowing your fear, “What kind of distraction were you thinking?”

At the same time, both your heads turned and both your eyes landed on the fire alarm that stood out on the wall. You looked back at Peter and he nodded at you, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

“I love you.” Peter’s words sounded more like an assurance than a confession.

You knew what he meant too: Stay safe.

In a flash, Peter pulled the fire alarm before he rushed around the corner to rip his shirt off, revealing the spider suit underneath. At the same time, you ran towards the children, who you headed screaming and panicking before you even reached the room.

“Quickly!” you shouted, “Outside! Now!”

The kids scrambled as they rushed towards the door and you ushered them out. But, as you did that, a movement from the front of the room caught your attention.

The chemist dissolved into a fit of rage, and you heard his angry mumbles to himself even over the fire alarm. Smoke billowed out from either side of him as he mixed his viles together and for a brief moment, he looked up and caught your gaze.

Everything felt like it froze as you locked eyes with him, and suddenly you knew what Peter felt. It felt like this man looked into your soul and read your deepest secrets. Your blood ran cold and fear pulsed through your veins as he suddenly launched himself at you.

You yelped and covered your head, anticipating an impact, but it never came. Looking up, you saw Spider-Man clinging to the ceiling, a shot of web tangling with the chemist and stopping him in his tracks.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Spider-Man quipped as he flung another web shot at him and flipped over to stand in front of you.

“Spider-Man…” the chemist growled as he threw a bottle towards him.

Peter quickly covered you, protecting you from the impact as well as the few kids who still hadn’t gotten out. 

“Spider-Man!” They cheered together as they kept for joy- and relief- at seeing their favorite hero.

“Get out of here kids!” Peter instructed before he glanced at you for a moment. The two of you nodded subtly before he turned back to the chemist and launched himself at him.

“Come on,” you breathed, “Hurry!”

You pushed the rest of the kids out of the room, but before you yourself exited, you couldn’t help but look back. Deep down, you knew Peter put himself in danger as Spider-Man, but to actually see him fight in person, and so close, was something else. You felt fear, but not for yourself. Watching him take and deliver hit after hit honestly scared you. 

But you suddenly had something else to worry about.

“You!” The chemist roared as he gathered his concoctions.

“No!” Peter sounded more scared than you had ever heard him before.

Clearly, it was obvious to the chemist how important you were to Spider-Man, to Peter, and he took advantage of the opportunity. Before either of you could react, he threw something at you, and you found yourself surrounded by a blinding gas. 

You gasped as you covered your mouth and dropped to the floor. Faintly, you heard the grunts of Peter fighting him still, but you couldn’t see anything. You were sure if it was from the gas or just from the adrenaline but you felt more and more dizzy the longer you stayed in the fog.

I’m another flash, you heard an explosion and the building shook. You struggled to keep from falling completely flat on the floor and you scrambled to stay on your hands and knees, ready for anything. 

You heard your name in Peter’s voice before you saw his silhouette appear in the fog. You tried to call out his name, but your voice croaked. Reaching out for him your hand trembled until it finally made contact with his.

“I’m here,” Peter murmured to you as he yanked you close, “Cover your mouth and hang on,” his voice trembled, “I’m getting you out of here.”

All you could do was nod as you felt yourself lifted into his arms with his super strength. You covered your mouth as you clung to him with your other arm. A gust of air hit your face as you found yourself flung through the air as Peter flipped and flung your bodies out of the museum. Faintly, you both heard the kids cheering for Spider-Man and shouting excitedly. Usually, Peter would have stopped for them, but right now his first priority was you and your safety.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck as you felt the air get fresher and fresher as he fwiped through the buildings and landed you both in an empty skyscraper far away from everyone.

The moment he sat you down, Peter ripped off his mask and looked you over, cupping your face as he did so. “Look at me,” he sounded breathless, “Are you hurt?”

You immediately saw the look of pure fear on his face, and it made your heart sink. You were sure you looked a mess, and you felt sore but you didn’t feel hurt. “I’m ok,” you whispered. 

Peter exhaled your name in relief as he gathered you in his arms. “You’re ok, sweetheart,” he cupped the back of your head as he held you as close and as tight as he could, “You’re ok…”

You weren’t sure if his words were for you or for himself. Perhaps both.

“I’m ok Pete,” you whispered softly in his ear as you clung to him, feeling safe in his arms. All the fear and adrenaline slowly faded away and you felt calm and safe the longer he held you. With one deep exhale, you felt better and you pulled away just enough to look into his eyes while still remaining secure in his arms, “Did you really have to wait and pull a dramatic rescue like that?” you smirked softly.

Peter rolled his eyes at you, but at the same time he was relieved to hear you say that; it meant you were back to normal with your wits about you, “Sweetheart…” he breathed. The truth was he had never been more scared, especially with the explosion. He opened his mouth to voice that, but the words were caught in his throat. Peter grimaced at the thought of losing you and a tear formed in the corner of his eye.

Sensing the change in tone, you tried to distract him, “Hey Pete?” you asked.

“Hmm?”

“What happened… To…?”

His grip on you tightened, “I think the mixtures he was using affected his mind… Made him so angry… He…Umm,” Peter trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud and upset you.

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure of what to say next. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for several moments as the breeze hit your faces. “Well, thank you,” you broke the silence, “For saving me.”

That brought a smile to Peter’s face. He leaned in and kissed you deeply, expressing all his emotions in the kiss instead of with his words, “You never have to thank me, honey,” he murmured against your lips as he placed a chaste kiss, “I’ll always protect you.”

You grinned against his cheek as your eyes fluttered closed, “And I’ll always take care of you too,” you hummed, “We made a good team back there though, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Peter chuffed, “You and me…”

“Against the world,” you finished the thought.

Silence fell over the two of you again, but before either of you could say anything, a growl from your stomach interrupted. You looked at Peter and both of you burst into laughter.

“I guess all that excitement made me hungry,” you chuckled.

“How about we get out of here then?” Peter said with a smirk, “I know a place that’s got the best salsa. We’ll pick up some tacos or something on the way too.”

You smiled brightly at him, “Sounds perfect…” you poked his chest, “Spider-Man.”

Peter felt his heart flutter in his chest. Oh yes, he definitely was going to find you the best ring he could and he was going to ask you to marry him as soon as possible. 

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt

Your best friend has warned you to stay far, far away from her younger brother — infamous party boy, Sergeant Johnny MacTavish. However, when she asks you to be her maid of honor in her wedding, you and Johnny end up closer than you ever expected.

Soap x Reader AU

Link to AO3

JUNE

You shouldered your backpack as you waited in the aisle of the train, sleep-deprived and hungry. When Hamish had called you to let you in on his little surprise, your heart had leapt in your chest for your best friend, Brigette MacTavish. She and Hamish had been together for nearly two years, and he had finally worked up the nerve to pop the question.

Brigette thought Hamish was just coming over for a Sunday roast, but you were showing up as the red herring. While she was distracted and fussing over you, Hamish could quietly panic until dinner was served, and you could take the pictures. You were glad to help him, you really were, and the MacTavish cottage was only an hour outside of Glasgow, so you didn’t mind, but your work had been exhausting lately, and your body ached for your own bed.

You hailed a cab on the app and waited in the cool night air for your ride to arrive. It was a cold one, and your Floridian bones weren’t used to it yet, even after five years of graduate school at the University of Glasgow. You were a Shakespeare scholar, and you loved every moment. It was just more demanding than ever, and you could barely meet the deadlines as it was. Now, you had a wedding to help plan, and you were torn between excitement and stress.

A clean Saab pulled into the gravel lot of the train station, and a cheery old man popped his head out,

“Where to, lass?”

The cabbie smelled like coffee and smoke as you climbed inside. You handed him a slip of paper with her house number on it,

“Old Kilpatrick, please. Here’s the address.”

A quick ride and you were dropped off at your destination, eager to see Ham and Pidge. Brigette hated her nickname, but it had stuck to her like glue. Her younger brother, Johnny MacTavish, had given it to her ever since he was a little boy, unable to fully form the proper sounds until it was too late. Pidge caught on like wildfire, and there was no escape.

Johnny was famous for making trouble around these parts. You’d never met the man, but you’d probably slept in his room more often than he had in the past year. When you stayed over with Pidge, you slept in his bed and wore his old, soft Rangers football tees. But, Johnny was a sergeant in the SAS, and he never took leave. When he did have to come home, his sister would complain about him staying in strangers’ beds instead of his own. She’d warned you from the start,

“Don’t look my wee brother in the eye, or he’ll hypnotize you like he does to every lass who comes within six feet of him.”

Pidge called Johnny a playboy, a womanizer, and a lush. She smacked him on the back of his head when he came home with another hickey on his neck, and by the time he went back to his deployment, Brigette said she had to chase the women out of the front garden like stray cats looking for their Tom.

“Promise me you won’t touch Johnny boy without gloves and a hazmat suit.”

You’d always promised you wouldn’t get involved with her brother. It seemed like an easy enough promise to keep with a man who was never home. His photos were few and far between, but it was obvious there wasn’t a girl north or south of Hadrian’s wide wall who would turn him down. Johnny’s boyish grin, his striking blue eyes, and his devilish mohawk made for a terrifying triple threat. Combine that with the body of a Spartan warrior and he was a sure weapon. Lucky for you, you were certain he’d never even look your way.

You knocked on the MacTavishes’ door and waited for her to crack it open for you. When she did, she looked astonished, but she wasted no time in hugging you around the neck and squealing with delight.

“What are you doing here, babe? I thought Hamish was takin’ the piss when he said you were on your way, haverin’ on about settin’ three plates for dinner. Come in! Come in, ya dafty. Give us your bags. Go on. I’ll put ya up in Johnny’s room,” she shooed you into the parlor and yanked the backpack from you, strong as hell for her small size.

You found Hamish in the kitchen, minding the potatoes, testing them with a fork to see if they were done.

“Hammy! Show it to me right this second, or else,” you laughed, whispering as low as you could.

His wide, bright smile was framed by his full, dark brown lips, and his deep skin gleamed. He was glowing like a virgin, and just about as nervous as one.

“Okay, but quick as you can,” he tugged the ring from his pocket and showed it to you.

Hamish’s hands trembled, and you clutched his palm in yours, shaking your head

“It’s beautiful. She’s going to love it.”

He smiled at you with joy and gratitude, but as soon as you heard Pidge coming down the stairs, he pocketed the ring as fast as he could, turning back to the food, nervously stirring potatoes that didn’t need to be stirred.

You poured a generous glass of wine for you and your hosts, making sure Brigette was distracted until dinner was served. You caught up on all the latest gossip. Pidge was the primary source for the juiciest news. As a librarian, people from all over would come to tell her things that they probably shouldn’t have told anyone, ever. And when a new romance novel came out, Pidge had the scoop on just how spicy it was. A five alarm fire on Pidge’s scale was a hard score to achieve, but the books that earned it, really fucking earned it.

“…and apparently, while she was out with Pink Shoes’ mister, the Skateboard Dad was out with Pink Shoes! Can you believe it?”

All of her gossipers had codenames. She was mindful about privacy, but you’d been hearing about these people’s dirty laundry for so long, it felt like you knew them well enough to come around for Christmas dinner.

“Here we are, ladies,” Hamish set down your heaping plate and slowly sat in his chair, looking like he’d seen a ghost between the oven and the fridge. You smiled at him, sending the strongest vibes you could with your smile, praying for him to hold it together.

He didn’t.

“Actually,” the noise of his chair scooting back away from the table was grating and a bit of a shock, but when he paused, it was dead silent. He continued, “Brigette, babe, I just…I want to say that, um, I don’t…uh…”

Pidge looked concerned. Her bright blue eyes gleamed as she gazed at her tall, dark, and handsome boyfriend. She dropped her fork and turned to face him, giving him her full attention. He was a full professor of biology and very rarely was he inarticulate. She checked on him,

“What is it, darling? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, grabbing her hands in his, bending down on one knee so he could be eye-level with her,

“Brigette. It’s quite obvious to me that I can’t live another moment without you. Please, say you’ll marry me before I come apart like a total idiot.”

“Hamish! What?” She was beaming, but still a little confused and shocked by his proposal.

You were catching the entire moment on your phone, trying to keep your hand from shaking with excitement as you did so, holding in your joy. Hamish pulled the ring from his pocket and Brigette gasped, all of the air left her lungs in a shaky sigh, and she began to sob. It was the most picturesque response, and you couldn’t have been happier for her.

After she had hugged him around the neck a hundred times, gasping and laughing as he told her his secrets and showed her your texts, she threw herself into your arms. Her hair was soft in the way that a girl’s hair was supposed to be, and you wondered if yours would ever feel that way. She smelled like the sun and old books, warm and nostalgic.

“God! I cannae believe you kept this from me! You’ve got the worst poker face. I never thought you’d be able to stand it,” she pinched your arm, gently teasing you.

“I know,” you admitted, “It wasn’t easy. Hamish had to talk me down from the ledge more than once.”

“Well, you’ll be my maid of honor, of course!” She squealed, pausing for a moment, remembering how busy you were, “Right, babe?”

You nodded, already thinking about the sleepless nights and missed deadlines,

“Of course!”

Hamish took your plates after you were done eating, and his warm voice boomed from the kitchen,

“This calls for champagne, right, ladies?”

He received two very loud “yes” shouts in agreement. You drank and talked until it was well past midnight, and with a goodnight hug, you sent the lovebirds to bed.

In your room (his room), you dug through Johnny’s old tee shirt drawer. You loved staying with Pidge, because her brother had the softest tee shirts in the world. Sleeping in them was like a buttery, smooth, transcendent experience and you were glad he wasn’t around to stop you from wearing them. You’d be mortified if he found out, but he was off in some terror-filled Green Zone, and these big, glorious tees were just languishing here unused.

You quickly spotted your favorite. It was a blue Rangers shirt made to look like a jersey with the name McCoist on the back. You clutched it to your chest, inhaling the smell of oranges and clove, mixed with some other human scent you couldn’t quite place. The sheets smelled just like it, too. You kept forgetting to ask Pidge what detergent she used.

The shirts he had in his old dresser were so big on you, you imagined he must have been tall his whole life, and wide. You never wore anything underneath, savoring the sensations of the fabric all over your body and reveling in it. You threw your hair into a high bun and padded back into the kitchen to get a warm cup of sleepytime tea before calling it a night.

You put the kettle on and opened the cabinet to reach for your favorite tea box, stretching up so that the shirt barely skated across the edge of your ass cheeks.

Then, you heard a low wolf whistle. Your heart stopped beating. You turned around as slowly as you could, paralyzed.

There was a man looming in the foyer in black riot gear, hoisting two huge rucksacks over his shoulder, staring right at you. You gasped, wanting to scream but no sound was coming out.

He stepped toward you. His eyes were blue, just like Brigette’s, but he was so very tall. His muscles were huge, bursting from his sleeveless tank and stretching out of his gear vest. Covered in guns and canisters and ammunition of all kinds, he looked absolutely terrifying. On his head, he had a shaggy, grown-out mohawk, laying flat and unstyled. His eyes were blackened with soot. When he glared at you, you thought you might melt to the floor in fear, until he opened his mouth,

“You’re a pretty little thief, you are. Better gimme back my favorite shirt, hen, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Johnny?” You hoped beyond measure that you had matched old photos to this new, dangerously handsome face.

He halted his approach, his features softening immediately, reminding you of the pictures of him you had a habit of studying in the hallway.

“Yeah…who are you, lass?”

You told him your name, and he nodded,

“Ah, Pidge won’t shut up about you. What are you doin’ here a’ this hour? I just got in from my tour. Got a note from Hammie that it was urgent.”

Johnny dropped his bags and came closer to join you in the kitchen. The soft light from the stove cast delicate shadows over his bright eyes and golden skin. He looked like a dream. He reached toward you and you flinched. A low, sarcastic chuckle resonated in his chest,

“Easy. Just keepin’ the kettle from keenin’.”

Studying you like an explorer in a new land, his eyes watched your every move, as if trying to memorize your skin like a map. He moved the steaming pot to a cold burner and you watched as the white hissing clouds died back down. You decided to break the ice, smiling knowingly at him,

“Good to finally meet you, Johnny. I’ve heard…so much about you.”

He took your hand in his and shook it once, dropping it and grabbing his own tea bag from the cabinet, plopping yours and his in their respective cups. It was an easy reach for him, and he grinned,

“It’s all lies. So, what’s the craic? What was so urgent?”

“Hamish proposed,” you said, watching his mouth fall open in shock.

“You’re takin’ the piss.”

“No, it’s true. Look,” you showed him the video.

The way his eyes gleamed, full of emotion, as he watched his sister agree to Hamish’s proposal was breathtaking. Surely this was not the same Johnny famous for accidentally inviting his two flings to the same Christmas dinner. He didn’t seem like the type.

Then, the sergeant leaned in closer to you, situating his enormous shoulder behind yours, getting a closer look at your screen, and you could smell him. That familiar, delicious, earthy citrus made you fall apart. It was nearly edible, and the fact that it emanated from such an attractive man made it that much more intense. No wonder he had women crawling all over him. The thoughts that invaded your mind made you blush.

His smile was back, and you never wanted it to leave,

“Tha’s fuckin’ brilliant. She’s asleep?”

He didn’t wait for your answer. Treading off down the hall, he knocked on Brigette’s door. You couldn’t see them, but you heard her answer it, the wood was creaking and popping from age and weight.

“Johnny boy? Is that you, you fuckin’ numpty!? Brother,” your friend’s voice was muffled as if she was crushed to his wide chest, “I’m getting married.”

“Let’s see it, then, Pidge.”

There was a span of silence, and then you heard him say in a low tone, unaware that his voice was carrying down the hall,

“You put a fit lassie in my shirt as a part of the occasion, or…?”

The sound of a slap on a heavy body reverberated along the wall, then a dark warning,

“You. Will. Not -“

“I dinnae ken what you’re abusin’ me for, Pigeon! I’m a saint!”

“Johnathan Fergus Euan MacTavish, she’s off-limits! You’ll not lay a hand on that girl’s pretty wee head, or I swear on Mother Mary and all the actual fuckin’ saints…”

“No promises, Pidge. If she wasn’t such a smoke show, you might have had a dog in the fight, but a gorgeous wee hen making tea in my kitchen wearing my fuckin’ shirt; it’s enough to make a lad start sinnin’.”

“Start! Tell me when you stopped. Is she out there? Oh, fuckin’ hell, you arsehole.”

You heard footsteps. You spun around and pretended to fuss with the tea.

“Babe! You met Johnny?” Pidge looked red in the face, and Johnny looked redder.

“Yeah, just came home. Showed him the video,” you shrugged.

“Great, this is just great,” Pidge forced a smile onto her face, and you got the sense that this was anything but great.

After not a small amount of insisting, you ended up in his bed and he slept on the sofa. So, when you awoke in the morning to the heavy weight of a body sinking into the mattress, you jolted up, thinking that he’d come to start sinning with you and you’d have to somehow find the inner strength to fight him off. Pidge would kill you both. Based on her reaction last night, you knew it in your bones.

But, he wasn’t even looking at you. He was sitting on the edge, digging in the side table for his phone charger. He tugged on the jumble of wires and acted surprised when you groaned out a quiet,

“G’Morning…”

“Ah, hey, lass. Sorry to wake you. Goin’ down to the shops for coffees. I always -”

“You bring them to Pidge your first morning back, I know. She told me,” you smiled and then smiled wider when he looked overjoyed with your knowledge of his fraternal lore.

“Pidge mentioned that?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, she loves it.”

He looked…healed, somehow, like you’d added space into his heart.

“Well, you’re part of the tradition now, so what’s your order?”

“Really?”

He rolled his eyes, feigning impatience. You laughed and answered him,

“Chai latte, please. Let me give you some money, hang on…”

You started to dig below the bed to find your bag, but he was already walking out the door,

“Back in two shakes, bonnie.”

As the door clicked closed, you lay in the man’s bed, in his room, in his house, in his shirt, and you wondered what exactly you’d gotten yourself into. It had been all fine and proper when he was just a cute face in a picture frame, but now that you could feel his heat and see his eyes looking at you, and hear that warm voice - and gods, his scent…

“Shit,” you said to nobody and everybody at the same time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 02

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 5

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Would she make him change his ways? Even though she resists him every step of the way, would he fight all odds (& her) to have her in his life? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

..........................................................

Ananya reached her apartment around 1 am. Roma was not back yet, thankfully. She wasn’t ready for her interrogation. 

The night still felt surreal. She leaned against the dining table and held on to the edges to steady the head-rush she was feeling. If the Tupperware of leftover pasta was not in front of her (he had insisted she took some coz she had barely eaten), the girl would have seriously wondered if she had hallucinated the whole thing. But no, this really happened. And she didn’t bail on whatever this was, as she had initially planned to do.

The wine was still buzzing in her system, helping calm her nerves. Before turning in for the night, she sent him a quick message.

Ananya: Reached 15 mins ago. Thanks for the drop. 

She wasn’t expecting a response. He must have a ton of people to talk to / respond to after the match earlier that night. So she started an episode of Friends, hoping to fall asleep in a bit.

5 mins later, her phone flashed.

Jude: Cool. Tired?

Ananya: Oh yeah, in bed already. You?

She rubbed her temple to soothe her straining eyes. It had been some day. 

Jude: Wanted to crash but some of the guys still partying at Vini’s house. Cama kept sending me videos, gosh he’s so wasted right now. Came there for a bit.

She smiled at her phone. The team deserved every bit of celebration tonight.

Ananya: That’s nice. Have fun :)

Jude: Yup. What plans for tmrw? Boss cancelled our training so I am free till afternoon. 

Ananya: Have to work a few hours in the morning, which might extend, not sure.

Jude: On Sunday morning?

Ananya: Welcome to investment banking.

Jude: Keep forgetting how smart you are.

Ananya: Not that smart, but ok :)

Jude: So, I have an ad shoot tomorrow evening, then flying out for an away game on Monday after training. Don’t know when I will see you next.

A wave of sadness hit her, surprising her with its force. Her brain admonished her. She had only just met him and she needed to get a grip. 

Ananya: It’s fine. Will figure something when you are back.

Jude: Hmm. Haven’t even kissed you yet and you are already messing with my head.

The sadness was replaced by a warm shiver as she stared at the screen and thought of a response. But couldn’t come up with any.

Jude: Did you just fall asleep on me? 

Ananya: Stop being dramatic. I am right here.

Jude: Naa, wish you were HERE. Why’d you leave?

Ananya: Jude, you know why.

There was something about the way she said his name that made him want to hear it on loop, in various settings. God damnit this girl.

Jude: Yeah yeah. You thought we won’t be able to keep it in our pants.

She choked on water, and some spilled out on her blanket. 

Ananya: How drunk are you?

Jude: Plentyyyy. Don even know what’s been shoved down my throat anymore. 

Ananya: Figures :)

Jude: One last thing. Veryyyy important, like proper critical. 

Ananya: Yes?

Jude: Need to see you in my jersey. 

She smiled to herself before typing.

Ananya: Maybe win the Madrid derby next, score the winner, and then we’ll talk?

Jude: Tough, tough crowd. No mercy. No rest for the wicked. No respect for the Classico winner. 

He was even more dramatic when he was drunk. She could almost hear the whining from his texts.

Ananya: Good night, Jude :)

Jude: Good night, dove. Try not to dream of me too much. Mwahhh!

She smiled at the screen and ended up kissing it, finally drifting off to sleep.

Next morning, she woke up to a message from him. Sent at 5 am. A drunk out of their wits pic with Jude, Cama and Fede. Along with a caption.

Jude: Your preciousss Cama.

Then, another message from a few seconds later.

Jude: Don’t stare too long. 

She responded with a heart emoji to the picture and got started with her day.

Next few hours were hectic. She got into her work mode, shutting out all the madness that had transpired the day before.

Still, in between, her eyes drifted to her phone, to see if there were any new messages. Poor guy must have been sleeping. Or busy. He did say he had an ad shoot in the second half.

She somehow pulled through the day, and it was almost 5 pm when she finally finished work. Roma was also on the same project. The girls sighed about it being Monday morning just  next day, and decided to make the most of their remaining evening. 

They ended up at the same cafe where Ananya had met him the other day. Was it just two days ago? God - so much had happened since then.

She ordered her favourite churros and took a picture. Then wondered whether she should send it to him. Would it look desperate? Like she was just seeking his attention? She couldn’t have that.

But it was a harmless pic. He would get the reference. Deciding to not overthink it, she ended up sending the photo with a caption.

Ananya: Back to ground zero!

No blue tick for over 15 mins.

Roma rolled her eyes at her then.

‘Can you stop the sappiness? Look around - lovely day. Lovely food. Let’s get some Sangria and let the world go to hell.’

Her roommate was the best. The two perfectly complimented each other. Plus, her American upbringing lent her this carefree attitude which Ananya really wished to imbibe.

‘Well, how can anyone say no to Sangria?’

The girls ordered a pitcher and ended up staying there for a few hours. Gossiping about their colleagues. Talking about life. Planning a vacation - Sevilla and Granada were top of their list. They looked up their calendars and found a long weekend that seemed ideal. The prospect itself making them cheerful.

By the time they got back, it was already 9 pm. There was still nothing from him. Not even a blue tick. She knew he was working. Yet, an ugly thought still creeped in - was this just a one night distraction? Did he already…lose interest after she dumped her constraints on him? All her doubts from last night came rushing back, leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

She got into bed and tried watching a movie. Anything random to keep her thoughts at bay. While scrolling through her insta.

And there it was - a post from him a few mins ago about the ad campaign for a cologne. With a gorgeous, stunning model at his arm. Ofcourse. 

The first photo looked like a part of the creative. The two were dressed immaculately in all black, she was leaning against his chest while his hand rested just above her butt. Seductiveness oozing from every inch of that frame.

The next was a BTS video - of him just being goofy on set while getting ready or trying to take a shot & not getting it right. The whole crew just getting charmed by his antics and boyish smiles. The model, in particular being extra supportive, extra attentive, giggling a bit too hard while holding onto his arm. Perfect hair, perfect figure and perfect skin. Ofcourse. 

And just then, her insta reels recommendation showed Jude hugging multiple female fans who had lined up outside his shoot. They screamed his name, begging for hugs and he obliged. Warm, cozy, Jude hugs. Granted he only wrapped one arm around their shoulder and looked embarrassed when some of them reached up to kiss his cheek or pulled him closer, but still. This wasn’t something she needed to see right now. 

Was this going to be her life from now on? Curled into bed, following his activities on social media, feeling inadequate. She didn’t deserve it. No girl deserved this. 

She threw her phone aside and forced herself to focus on the movie. It was already 9:45, it would be best to get some sleep soon. Next week was going to be super hectic at work. Yes, work is what she needed do focus on. That’s why she was halfway across the world in this city. That was her goal in life right now. Not some ridiculously handsome random boy who made women go weak in their knees everywhere he went. 

Around 10 pm, her phone buzzed. She had tucked herself into bed by then and almost decided to not look at it. But curiosity got the better of her.

Jude: Heyyy. Sorry my phone was not with me. Just getting back from a shoot.

She was equal parts relieved and irritated with that message. Ananya took a deep breath to calm herself down, and thought of a neutral response.

Ananya: Oh yeah, you had mentioned. How did it go?

Jude: Not too bad. Somehow got an ok on my take, that’s all I care about honestly. This acting gig ain’t no joke. 

Ananya: Hmm.

Jude: Churros looked lovely. Hope you had fun.

Ananya: Yep, and yep.

Jude: Tired? Am I keeping you from something?

Ananya: Nope. 

Jude: Why so wry then? What’s happened?

Oh, how she wanted to scream. What’s happened was exactly what she didn’t want to happen. What she swore she won’t put herself through with another boy. And this was amplified 1000 times here coz of who Jude was. 

She started typing, then deleted, then typed again, unable to find the right words. This went on for two mins. 

Jude: Can I call?

She sighed, exasperated. Her voice will immediately give away her irritated and confused state. But he knew something was up and typing like this was getting exhausting.

Ananya: Sure.

He called the next second. She braced herself, then answered. 

‘Hey.’

She couldn’t have possibly made it sound drier even if she tried. 

‘Hey. Wassup?’

‘Nothing, was just about to crash. Already in bed.’

‘Hmm, won’t keep you for long. Just wanna hear your voice.’

Damn him. To the moon and back. Damn his sweet agonising voice. 

‘Why? Looks like you had enough company today.’

The words just tumbled out of her before she could check herself. Great going girl, way to make yourself look pathetic. 

He paused for a few seconds.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing, forget it.’

‘Tell me you’ll sort this on your own and wake up all fine tomorrow morning, I’ll leave it be.’

She knew that wasn’t gonna happen. There was also no way for this to ever work if she wasn’t honest with him. Especially given his situation, things will just compound and then break very quickly. If they ever even get started, that is. 

‘The photos bothered me a bit.’

She could sigh him breathe audibly at the other end - probably getting irritated at her insecurity. Or her immaturity. Maybe both. 

‘What about them bothered you?’

Damn him for always making her spell everything out loud.

‘Just…her? Everything about that stunning woman. Looks like she fancied you.’

She could tell the wheels were churning in his mind at the other end.

‘I see. And you think I should be with someone like her. In fact, maybe I am going to her hotel room right now & talking to you on the way.’

Her silence was deafening. Jude gripped the edge of his seat to not curse out loud. 

‘Ananya - didn’t we speak about this last night? Are we gonna go back full circle here?’

‘I am sorry. It’s just - I don’t know how I could ever compete with someone like that. Also, I don’t want to. I am a normal, regular girl Jude. Don’t need that in my life right now, or ever.’

‘YOU DON’T HAVE TO COMPETE. Can’t you see you have already won?’

Warmth and fuzziness ran over her, making her feel gooey inside. She had to clutch her tummy to arrest that feeling. To arrest the freefall. 

‘You don’t know what’s gonna happen.’

Jude fought the urge to throw his phone against the opposite seat. 

‘DO YOU? Does anyone? Girl, why don’t you believe me when I say I want you? Should I list down how much I have fantasised about you the last two days? How much I wanna…..’

‘Stop, please stop Jude. Please.’

Both were breathing heavily at this point, for different reasons.

‘Can I ask you for one thing, Ananya? Try trusting me till I give you an explicit reason not to. I am not such a dog, y’know. Yes, I have seen multiple girls together before but all parties KNEW it was casual. No commitments. This is not that. This is not a situationship. I would have told you to your face if that’s what I was looking for.’

She clutched her phone close to her chest. Him being who he was had made it all so hard. But he was right - he hadn’t done anything. Well, not yet. 

‘I don’t know what to say, Jude. Like I know a lot of this is in my head but I don’t know how to make it go away.’

Heavy breathing continued at both ends. He broke the silence after a few moments. 

‘How about this? Ask me what you really wanna ask me. All your unsaid questions, assumptions, perceptions about me that make you want to distance yourself. I won’t lie, promise. Be the smart girl I know you are and break it down like you will a work project.’

That was actually a fair suggestion. She could see what he was trying to do by appealing to her logical side. Not just a pretty face. Clearly not. 

She chucked her inhibitions on how crude her questions might sound. He was right - without this they would keep coming back full circle.

‘So…when you said you were dating multiple women together..’

‘Seeing…not dating.’

He clarified before she could go on. It was an important distinction for him. 

‘Yes, seeing them together, how long back was that?’

‘In Dortmund.’

‘Hmmm.’

She didn’t know how to feel about that. So she skipped to the next obvious question.

‘And…what about Madrid?’

‘Seen a couple, texted a couple, but not at the same time.’

‘Ok. When was the last time you were…you know..’

He understood the question before her finishing it.

‘Two weeks ago.’

‘I see.’

That wasn’t too long back. Was he still in touch with her? Did they meet up at his house? Something about the last thought made her feel icky.

‘And, these rendezvous, usually happen where?’

He chuckled at her choice of words. She really was something. 

‘At a hotel close by. It’s a private, exclusive property.’

‘Ofcourse.’

He could tell there was a tinge of sarcasm in that last word but chose to let it go.

‘Are you in touch with her….the last one?’

‘Not since a week.’

She was feeling particularly bold at this point. Jude could anticipate her next question from a mile away.

‘Well, are you planning to?’

‘Nope. Not her. Not anyone else. I will only be with you and you will only be with me. Exclusively.’

He declared without hesitation. Her mouth open and closed at his last line, unsure of how to react. He waited patiently. 

‘And what about the hordes of women who throw themselves at you daily? Who would do absolutely anything you want, and more?’

‘There is no easy fix here. You will have to find a way to believe that I will not stray, I will not indulge them.’

He could have backed his statement with evidence. Coz the model from today did slip him her number & he had politely wriggled out of that. But even he had the good sense to know this wasn't the time to bring that up.

She appreciated how he didn’t try to feed her any rosy crap, really following through on answering honestly. His tone & speed of response gave her enough assurance that he wasn’t being evasive. 

She had run out of questions and said as much to him. Weirdly, in some inexplicable way, this was healing.

‘My turn then.’

This caught her off guard. But it was a fair ask, after the grilling she just put him through. 

‘Sure, go ahead.’

‘Open your door in precisely 1 minute. I will ask in person.’

The phone dropped from her hand as she sat up, landing somewhere under the blanket. She reached for it blindly with one hand while switching on the lights with the other. 

‘What do you mean in person? You don’t know where I live.’

‘Agnes knows.’

Ofcourse. His driver had dropped her home last night. Great, his presence was making her dumb now.

‘But….what if someone sees you? Roma is home too. The house is so messy. And I am, I am..One second, your shoot was on the other side of town and this is not in your way. What would you be doing here? Are you messing with me?’

She rambled faster that the speed of light. He ignored every other comment but picked up on the last one.

‘How did you know where my shoot was?’

Damn. Bloody rotten hell. She groaned audibly on the phone and he laughed out loud.

‘Dove is a stalkerrrrrr!’

He said teasingly, in a sing-song voice. 

Before she could respond, she heard a car honk under her window. No, this couldn’t be. He wouldn’t. Would he?

‘Buzz me in and open the door. I am getting out of the car now.’

Ananya rushed frantically to the door, buzzing the building gate open. The idea of someone seeing him here filling her with nerves. Thankfully, she was on the first floor, half a staircase away from the building door.

Three seconds later, she saw him enter the building. Eight seconds later, she was grabbing his arm and pulling him into the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind them.

What was he thinking? What if someone had seen him outside? The media crap storm would have been unstoppable. How irresponsible was this? The gall of him to show up unannounced like that, anytime he wanted. Oh, she was mad. Raving mad.

Before she could turn around and give him a piece of her mind, strong arms wrapped around her from behind. 

‘Sorry. Just wanted to see you once before I fly out tomorrow. Didn’t want to leave on this note.’

And just like that, he knocked the fight out of her chest. With two simple lines. Frankly she was a goner at sorry itself. The boy carried a magic wand of persuasion with him. 

Her shoulders, which were tensed in anger, dropped as she leaned back into his chest. He kissed the back of her head, conveying his gratitude.

She could stay like this forever. In his warm, comforting hold. His scent, familiar by now (when did that happen?), seeping into her skin, taking over her senses. His big, calloused hands enveloping her smaller ones. Involuntarily, she sighed.

‘Thank you for being honest with me earlier. I feel better now.’

‘I am glad. My turn? Only have one question.’

‘Ofcourse.’

He turned her around in his arms and tilted her chin up to look straight into her eyes.

‘Would you let me kiss you right now?’

Time stood still. She was very numb yet very aware in that moment. The dim lighting in the living room from the night lamp, the faint noise from the street, the rhythmic tapping of feet coming from Roma’s locked room who was blaring music on her headphones. All registering in some peripheral part of her brain.

But what she was hypnotised by was his face, and his eyes, gazing intently at her, drawing her in. How was it ever possible to say no to that face? To those big brown eyes which looked even deeper, softer, more vulnerable than ever before?

She didn’t realise when he took off his jacket, nudged her towards the dining table a short distance away, put his hands on the sides of her waist, lifted her slightly to place her on the table. But when her legs were being parted gently so he could stand in front of her, their torsos touching, her trance broke. The heat radiating from his body was palpable. 

Jude’s face was inches away, almost eye level.  A pleasing, handsome, perfectly symmetrical face. The dim lighting creating a halo around him. Ananya tilted her head to look at Roma’s room and if it was still locked. But he put two fingers on her cheek to turn her back to him.

‘Been waiting for this since I saw you.’

Jude lifted her arms & wrapped them around his neck, while his hands stroked her back. The flimsy fabric of her tank top not providing any barrier; it was almost like he was stroking her skin. Her legs, spread wide apart to fit him in, dangled aimlessly on the edge of the table.

How was he expecting a coherent verbal response from her in this situation?

She slowly slid one of her hands from his long muscly neck to his hair, fingers gliding through the thick, firm, soft curls. Her eyes searching his, telling him this is the best she could do right now.

That was all the signal he needed. Her grip in his hair tightened as he angled his head to cover her lips with his. Plump, pillowy lips caressing hers. Making her tightly shut her eyes and whimper out. Which broke something in him.

He dove in again with more urgency, parting her lips this time, getting them to move in sync with his. She gladly obliged, submitting to his rhythm while her heart hammered against her chest. She wondered if he could hear it too. But he was too occupied with tasting her mouth. All her little sounds & shudders giving him a head rush. His hot breath fanning her cheeks. 

When her whimpers went up an octave, he gave her a little breather, connecting their foreheads as they breathed in the same air. Her hands had fallen to the wide expanse of his shoulders, clutching at them to anchor herself. 

He kissed her forehead, the top of her eyes, and placed two delicate pecks on each cheek. His light stubble grazing her skin. She tilted her head involuntarily along with his movements, giving him ready access, like a puppy would to someone petting it. 

‘Ananya, lemme see you.’

The way he said her name, the fondness in his voice, it was like a silent command she couldn’t deny. Her hands gripped his shoulders tighter as she opened her eyes. 

He smiled affectionately, and it took her breath away. All the walls she had built around herself, all the rules, all the notions of just focusing on her work for now, this boy had bulldozed his way through all that with just his breathtaking smile.

Some part of her still conscious brain tried to chide her that she was no different than any of the other girls fawning over him. All it took was him showering her with his undivided attention and she was putty in his hands. But her brain couldn’t get a word in edgewise, her other senses had taken over. 

Jude reached for her hands, unclasped them from his shoulders, somehow sensing the tension in them. What he did next made her lightheaded. He moved his lips to her palms, placing soft, lingering kisses on both. And then, he moved her hands to his face, as if asking her to hold him. Somehow, this felt even more intimate than their kiss. 

His unending torso was all hard muscle, pressed into hers, but his face was soft. Rugged yet soft. Her hands couldn’t even fully cover his cheeks, she noted absentmindedly. So she used the pads of her thumbs to stroke the rest of his gorgeous face. 

Suddenly, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer into him. She looked up in surprise, finding darker, hooded eyes. 

‘The next time you wanna run away from me, remember this feeling.’

Not only had his eyes changed colour but his voice had turned hoarse too. Insistent lips crashed into hers, prying them open, his tongue penetrating her mouth. She gasped at the invasion. One of her hands fell from his face  & settled behind her on the table, trying to find balance, as the force of his kiss made her lean backwards, with him looming over her. 

His spare hand gripped her bare thigh to help steady her. She just realised how her tiny sleeping shorts had completely inched up her legs, leaving them almost fully bare. His hand was firm and his fingers dug into her skin, making her head spin.

She lost her balance, despite his support, falling further backwards and knocking down a container behind her on the table. He broke the kiss & stretched his arm to reach for the container, finding it just before it was about to crash on the floor. While she just panted in his hold.

‘Jude…I..’

‘Shhhhh, I got you.’

They fell into a warm, comforting embrace. Arms settling around each others’ backs. Her face resting in the crook of his neck as he quietly stroked her hair.

‘Did it ever occur to you that it’s hard for me to trust as well?’

That made her grudgingly break the hug and look up at him with confused eyes, while their arms remained locked around each other. 

‘It’s tough to figure if someone really likes me for me or it’s the lifestyle, fame, money and exposure that they are after. If a private encounter would remain private or the details would be splashed over some social media later. If some photoshopped images or invented stories be circulated as sworn truth. I have struggled to judge, so honestly I stopped trying. Keeping it just about sex was simpler. Uncomplicated. Convenient. No strings attached.’

No, it hadn’t occurred to her at all. Not till he put it like that. On any other day, she would have been irked at him trying to conveniently defend his conscious indulgences. But it felt more like an admission than justification. 

She stroked his neck and shoulders as he continued being vulnerable with her. 

‘You see, the normal and regular you think to be such a distancing factor, is in fact the opposite. A huge chunk of my life will always be public, I get that. I signed up for that. But this bit, I wanna protect. I’d love to come home to someone normal.’

Ananya stroked his face with all the tenderness she could muster. Trying to show that she understands. From the way he relaxed into her, she figured he got her message. 

Jude knew he had to be careful with her. Seeing her skimpy nightclothes hugging her body tonight had already disrupted his brain chemistry. He couldn’t shake the thought of how easy it would be to just push her on her back then & there. To rid her of the flimsy fabric barely covering her form l, with one determined tug. 

That’s why he knew he had to leave soon, while he was still thinking with his head. She wasn’t ready, not yet. 

‘That your room?’

He tilted his head towards the open door at the end of the corridor. 

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Want me to carry you in and tuck you into bed? I will leave after a goodnight kiss.’

She met his gaze with a twinkle in her eye, cocking her head sideways, biting her lip slowly. His eyes followed every little movement. 

‘Think you can handle being in my bedroom just to tuck me in?’

Boy, he didn’t see that coming. Didn’t know she had it in her. It immediately made him even more interested. The open challenge in her eyes, the suggestive tone, and that jutting out bottom lip. That needed to be responded to.

He leaned in and bit down at the same spot on her lower lip, making it sting a bit, then flicking it with his tongue. His hand gripped her bare thigh again, knocking the sass out of her.

‘Lippy. So lippy. I love it.’

He continued rubbing circles on her thigh with his thumb till he drew a moan out of her, despite her biting her cheek to keep it in.

‘Your pretty brain may not approve of me yet, but your body is definitely #TeamJude.’

She gasped, and he chose that moment to lean in for a deep goodnight kiss. Making it wet & sloppy, on purpose, so much so that she had to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand when he was done with her.

‘Sleep tight, dove. Talk to ya tomorrow. And..’

He leaned in to whisper in her ear, enunciating each word.

‘Will think about you tonight. Maybe in the car as well.’

With one last attempted wink, he bid her goodbye and walked out. While she was still perched up on the table, her body tingling everywhere he had touched her, her lips tasting of him, and her mind reeling from what had just happened.

……………………… 

There it is. Was delayed because, well, the pictures threw me off :)

As always, feedback / comments are always welcome. Hope you are enjoying their journey so far!

[fancysaladbro]

Small Steps to Big Changes: How a Simple Habit Transformed My Energy

You know, we're always busy. Don’t matter whether you’re working, studying, or just running around town doing errands, everyone’s on the go, no time to slow down. I used to think that being busy was the same as being productive. Wake up early, work through lunch, stay up late to finish everything. At first, it seemed okay. But over time, I realised I was just running on empty.

I remember last year, it got to a point where I felt like I wasn’t getting anything done, even though I was busy all day. Every morning, I dragged myself out of bed, feeling like I had just run a marathon the day before. I started to feel run down, and my body was just giving me signs — dry throat, constant fatigue, and no energy at all. And you know what happens when you feel tired all the time, right? Your productivity goes down, your mood dips, and even the smallest tasks start to feel like big challenges.

I thought maybe I wasn’t getting enough rest, so I tried sleeping earlier. Still didn’t help. I started drinking more coffee to stay awake during the day, but it only made things worse. Coffee gave me the initial kick, but by afternoon, I felt more exhausted than before. It was frustrating. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew I had to make a change, or else I’d be stuck in this cycle of exhaustion.

One day, while scrolling through social media during my lunch break, I saw a post about Bodigard VitaStixC, a supplement that promised to help with immunity and energy levels. Normally, I wouldn’t pay attention to these things, but something about the product caught my eye. Maybe it was the simplicity of it — a quick, fuss-free way to get your daily dose of nutrients. No pills, no mixing, just tear and go.

I clicked on the link and read up on the ingredients. Vitamin C? Check. Zinc? Check. Turmeric extract? Not bad, right? These are all things that I know are important for the body. And the best part? It didn’t seem like one of those complicated health products you have to remember to take multiple times a day or follow a strict routine. This was easy — just one stick in the morning, and I was done.

So, I decided to try it. At first, I wasn’t expecting much. I’ve tried other health products before, and some of them worked for a while, but then the effects would wear off. But after just a few days of taking Bodigard VitaStixC, I started noticing a difference.

I didn’t feel as tired in the morning. I didn’t feel like I needed three cups of coffee just to stay awake. By the time lunchtime came, I wasn’t yawning every five minutes. And when I went to bed at night, I actually felt like I had energy to get a full night’s rest. I wasn’t lying awake wondering if I was going to make it through the next day. For the first time in months, I felt like I could handle whatever the day threw at me.

A few weeks in, I realised that it wasn’t just my energy levels that had improved — my overall mood and mental clarity were better too. The constant brain fog that used to cloud my thoughts started to lift, and I felt sharper. I could focus for longer periods of time, and my productivity at work improved significantly. It was like a switch had flipped, and I was finally back in control.

The thing is, it wasn’t just about the physical benefits. Taking Bodigard VitaStixC every day became a small habit that gave me a sense of control. It was something I could rely on every morning to help set me up for the day ahead. And it wasn’t hard to remember. It was just one stick, and I didn’t need to make any complicated changes to my routine. That’s what made it so easy to stick with.

I used to think health was all about drastic changes — like giving up certain foods, going to the gym every day, or taking expensive supplements that I didn’t even know if they worked. But what I realised was that it’s the small changes that make the biggest impact. You don’t need to overhaul your life overnight. Just find one thing that’s easy, something you can do every day, and build from there.

I shared my experience with a few friends, and they were sceptical at first. “What’s so special about this?” one of them asked. “It’s just a supplement.” But after seeing the difference in me — the increased energy, the clearer skin, the improved mood — they started giving it a try. A few weeks later, one of them messaged me, saying, “I didn’t believe you at first, but this stuff really works!” That’s when I realised that this wasn’t just a personal win; it was something that could help other people too.

Now, every morning, without fail, I start my day with Bodigard VitaStixC. It’s part of my routine, and I honestly don’t know how I went without it before. Some people swear by their protein shakes or other supplements, but for me, this small, simple habit has made all the difference.

If you’re someone who’s always tired, feeling run down, or just struggling to keep up with life, maybe it’s time to try something that’s easy, effective, and doesn’t require a lot of effort. Give Bodigard VitaStixC a go. It’s not going to magically fix everything, but it might just give you the boost you need to take on the day. And sometimes, that’s all you need to get started.

[gothcsz]

imagine pornstar javi having an only fans 😩

girl i'd subscribe so fast

oh hell yeah nonnie, me too... top subscriber, working 3 jobs just to support this sexy man. who's with me?! 🙂‍↕️ tagging @miss-oranje-disco-dancer & @almostempty because duhhh 🖤 i hope i did this justice!

tags: black f!reader, smut babes, onlyfans!javi let's gooo, he talks you through it, dirty talk duh, masturbation (f&m), use of pet names (doll, baby, sweetheart, muñeca, bella), roleplaying (?), i have no idea how OF works so just vibe with me, everyone say thank you to your bestie, unbeta'd, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx. ~ 3.1k w/c

p.s. if you’re into pornstar!javi you should check this out 🖤

look at how yummy this dick is 👀

You frown as you read the message preview sent from your best friend. Your eyes flit up to check the time.

It’s barely past two in the morning. Does this bitch ever sleep? Granted— you’re also up late.

You tap on the notification before it disappears, going into your message thread with her and you see the link attached to her horny message.

why are you sending me unsolicited dick pics at 2 am? what would your man think of this?

She replies right away.

first of all i don’t have a man second of all it’s a video and just please go watch it

You’re confused by that first message since she was just raving about this guy she met at her job but you let it go, tapping on the link and waiting for safari to open it up.

The OnlyFans website loads and prompts you to log in before continuing. You go back to your messages.

tabling the i don’t have a man convo for another time can’t see it because i don’t have an account 

She’s quick to send you her log in and you laugh out loud— of course she’s a registered user.

You type in her email and password, patiently waiting before the post she sent you loads and your eyes widen.

Just the thumbnail has you intrigued. A man, dressed in a tailored navy suit sans the jacket and tie, the fabric of his white collared shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The title reads: Late Night at the Office. 

The transparent play button teases you, almost daring you to give in to the intrigue.

So you tap it.

It begins with the mystery man seated, the frame capturing him from the tip of his strong nose down to the top of his thighs. His features are striking from what you can see— plump, pink lips framed by a neatly trimmed mustache, adding a hint of rugged sophistication to his appearance.

His legs are spread wide, unapologetically taking up space, the rich leather of the chair creaking subtly beneath him. His thighs strain against the fabric of his suit pants.

There’s something about the way he sits, so sure of himself, so confident in his own skin, that draws your eye immediately to the center of the frame. One hand rests lazily on his thigh, the other cradles a phone, as if he’s deep into an intimate call. His eyes, though hidden, seem locked on you through the screen, pulling you deeper into his fantasy.

And then, he speaks.

“Have to stay late, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

His voice slides through the speakers of your phone like liquid velvet— deep and smooth, carrying an accent that’s definitely southern but tinged with something else, wrapping itself around each word like a caress.

“Don’t be upset, doll. Let me make it up to you.”

His tone is gentle but authoritative, luring you in. The air feels charged, and despite the fact that you’re watching from behind a screen, it feels as though his words are meant for you and you alone.

“Why don’t you undress for me and lean back,” the command is soft yet irresistible.

Your breath catches in your throat, a soft gasp you weren’t expecting, as your thighs instinctively press together beneath the plush comforter, seeking some form of relief from the growing ache.

It’s as if he has some kind of power over you, the pull in his voice coaxing you into compliance. Your skin prickles with anticipation as you glance around your quiet studio apartment, almost instinctively checking if anyone might be watching; like your best friend who lured you into this horny trap in the first place. 

But of course, there’s no one else here— just you and his low, hypnotic voice filling the space around you.

You pause it, antsy fingers reaching for the hem of your nighttime slip dress, the soft fabric sliding effortlessly off your skin then being tossed aside. Propping your phone up with a decorative pillow at the edge of the bed, you angle it so you’re able to see him perfectly.

You feel a rush of warmth, excitement, as you resume the video and settle back against the mountain of pillows behind you.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, baby,” he murmurs, his tone low and husky, the faintest edge of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t stop picturing you, lying in bed… all warm and soft, just waiting for me to take care of you.”

Your lips part instinctively, tongue grazing the corner as you feel the pull of lust tightening in your core. Your nipples, already taut from the cool air in your space, ache for attention.

You shift, thighs rubbing together again, unable to stop your body’s response. His voice feels like it’s seeping directly into your skin, making it impossible to sit still.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he orders so tenderly and impossible to refuse. “Slowly, sweetheart. Just run your fingers over those soft thighs of yours… don’t rush.”

You obey, hands traversing down the length of your torso until they’re at your thighs, fingertips grazing your skin lightly as you follow his instructions. Your breath hitches again, heart beating louder in your ears as his voice continues to weave around you, wrapping you in the intimacy of the moment.

“That’s it,” he purrs, “Let me hear those little gasps. I want you to think of my hands doing that for you. Think of me sliding my fingers up and down your beautiful body… teasing you.”

And so you do. You think of his larger, surely rougher touch at your inner thighs. The growing pressure at the apex of your legs builds with every syllable, but it’s not just his voice that has you derailing.

It’s everything. 

As the camera lingers on him, you watch his free hand move to the top button of his shirt. His fingers work with deliberate precision as he undoes it then the ones that follow. His movements are slow, taunting you as the shirt falls open, exposing the smooth, muscled lines of his chest.

“You want to see more, don’t you?” he asks the camera, and the teasing edge in his voice makes your clit twitch. “I’ll show you, baby. But you need to keep touching yourself for me. I want you to feel how wet I get you. Imagine me right there, taking care of that aching little cunt of yours.”

He’s intoxicating, and as he slips another button open, revealing more of his firm, toned chest, you slip your hand to your pussy, your body begging for more. You can almost feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way he’s undressing for you, the slow reveal of what you’re aching to see.

He’s unhurried, intentional— he knows exactly what he’s doing, how to keep you, the viewer, on edge.

“Let me hear you,” he commands, fingers grazing his buckle now, threatening to undo his belt. “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how badly you want me to touch you… how much you need me.”

His words have a gush of arousal leaking from your cunt, a whine pushing past your lips as you lightly run a finger down the seam of your folds.

“Need you so bad,” you murmur to yourself, not caring that there’s no one there to hear you, no one in the room but the phantom of his presence. He’s completely transported you into another world, and you’re too far gone to feel any shame in talking to him as if he’s right there in front of you— or over the phone with how he’s set this scene up.

All he’s done is talk, but it’s enough to render you a puddled mess. The heat licking at your core is undeniable, each instruction winding you tighter.

You can’t help but wonder— are you really this starved for a good fuck, or is this faceless stranger just that skilled at weaving desire into every syllable?

His deep, commanding tone oozes with intention, a carefully crafted tease that seeps through the screen. It’s clear he’s an expert at this— at knowing exactly how to pull you in and leave you aching for more. Now, your curiosity is piqued; what other sinful content could he possibly have on his page?

It suddenly makes perfect sense why your friend is subscribed to him. The moment you come, you know you’ll be rushing to make an account of your own, no hesitation, ready to drain your bank account if it means getting more of him— every cent worth it just to see what else he can do to you.

He’s catering to something raw, drawing out a fantasy you didn’t even realize you had.

“I need you just as bad. Real fuckin’ shame I’m stuck at the office… my cock misses you, sweetheart.”

Your breath quickens as the clink of his belt being undone echoes through the speaker, slipping the leather free from its loops, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of his dick, thick and prominent beneath the tailored slacks.

The sight sends a surge of heat through your body, your skin prickling with desire, yearning for more.

His fingers toy with the waistband of his pants now, brushing tantalizingly close to the bulge straining against the fabric, teasing both you and himself with the promise of what’s to come.

His voice is low and seductive, dripping like molten honey, each word striking you like a touch.

“I wish I could be in bed with you right now,” he grunts, and you swear you can feel his eyes locked on you through the screen, as if he can see every inch of your trembling body. “You have no idea how badly I want to worship you… feel your skin against mine. I’d start slow. My lips, my hands, they’d be everywhere. I’d make you come so many times it’d make you stupid.”

You moan, finally dipping two of your fingers between your wet folds and massaging at your clit, spreading your slick all over.

“Go head, play with that pretty little pussy. Use your other hand to touch on those perfect fuckin’ tits of yours.”

Your free hand instinctively goes up to cup your breast as you imagine him there with you, his body pressing you into the mattress, lips tracing over every inch until he’s suckling on your pert nipples then moving down to where you need him most.

“I want to taste you,” he continues, his fingers popping the button of his pants then the zipper, “Feel you quivering on my tongue, feel you melt on my fingers as I fuck them into that tight cunt. I won't stop until you’re shaking, begging me to let you breathe.”

His hand slips beneath the fabric as he shifts in his seat, and you can see the subtle movements of him touching himself. The sight alone takes your breath away, the need coiling inside you, growing unbearable as your own fingers pick up the pace, rubbing the sensitive flesh while your other hand works to pinch and tug at your nipple.

“And when I finally break you, sweetheart,” he whispers, sending shivers all throughout your body, “when you’re crying, trembling… pleading me to stop, that’s when I’ll slide my cock inside. You’d be so full, so wet, and I wouldn’t stop until I’ve reminded you who you belong to, until I’ve had you again and again. Until you’re stuffed so full of my cum that it’s leaking out of your fuckin’ mouth.”

He finally pulls his dick out and you gasp loudly. It’s fucking beautiful. Thick, long, a few shades lighter than the brown skin of his chest with a glistening pearl of precum right at his slit. He spreads it around the crown of his cock and you salivate, imagining how good the weight of him would feel on your tongue.

Yummy in-fucking-deed.

“Fuck yourself on your fingers baby, then stick two into your pretty mouth and suck on them.”

You do as you’re told, sinking two into your fluttering entrance while the ones at your tit slip into your mouth, eyes fluttering close as you suck on them like they’re his cock. It feels so good, your thumb pressed up against your clit— the stickiness of your arousal aiding your fingers in pumping in and out of you.

The sound of him spitting snaps you from the mini daze, pulling your attention lazily back to the screen. There he is— his large hand wrapped tightly around the thick length of his cock, glistening and throbbing as he begins to stroke it languidly. 

“Got me so hard,” he grunts, his voice thick with lust, “just picturing you with your fingers in your mouth like a good little slut.” His grip on the phone by his ear tightens, you can tell by the way his knuckles become flushed and you whimper.

“Choke on them,” he growls, “Let me hear you gag.”

Obedient as ever, you push your digits past your tongue and deeper, your breath growing ragged. The moment they hit the back of your throat, you gag, the wet sound loud and raw in the quiet of your apartment.

You sputter around them repeatedly, eyes filling with tears. Choking sounds echoing off the walls, bouncing back at you in a symphony of depravity. Saliva pools in then out of your mouth, dripping down your chin, and the mess of it only heightens the filthy pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel how slick you are, the sheets beneath you now damp from your horniness, every fiber of your being aching for release.

His pace on the screen quickens, the sound of his bated breath mingles with the obscene smacking of his fist against the skin of his cock, grunting between strokes. His dick looks even bigger as it pulses in his grip, thick and veined and covered in his spit.

“Bet you’re dripping for me,” his words are strained. “I can just picture it… how wet you are, soaking those sheets. Can’t wait to hear you come undone for me, baby.”

Your fingers, still wet from the mess of your mouth, slide down your body, grazing over your hard nipples before switching with the ones between your legs, where your pussy is throbbing. You moan at your own heady taste, the relief of your saliva soaked digits in your cunt almost overwhelming.

The tension builds, every stroke of his hand matching the movement of your fingers, the friction pushing you closer to the edge.

“Ahhh yesyesyes— just like that.” You whine, removing your fingers from your mouth and bringing them down to your nipples again to pinch and pull; anything to heighten the already intense pleasure you’re feeling.

The room feels thick with sexual tension, the filthy sounds of your wetness mix with his groans through the speakers, creating an intoxicating melody that pushes you further into your own climax.

“I’d have your pussy stretched out so good,” he continues, hand tightening around his cock as he pumps faster now, thrusting his hips upwards. “Have you feeling me for days… filling your sweet cunt until all you can do is squirt all over this cock.”

The things you’d do to make that happen. To have him bend and twist and fuck you in a myriad of pleasurable positions. To feel the thickness of his dick leaving you sore and hurting, absolutely helpless. These desires send you careening toward the edge.

“C’mon baby, give it to me.”

Your fingers move faster, abusing your cunt as your hips buck into your hand. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps as your whole body tightens.

You can feel it coming, that sweet rush of pleasure towering over you, until it crashes down in a wave so intense, you cry out.

“Oh fuck!”

You spasm, back arching off the bed as your digits do all the right moves, chasing the high. In a flood of pure ecstasy, your pussy pulses and clenches, a gush of wetness soaking the sheets as you come hard, giving in to the overwhelming euphoria.

Drool leaks from your mouth like a feral animal, your chest heaving, and your eyes lock on the screen, pupils dilated, watching as he strokes himself through his own climax, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he breathes, his cock twitching in his hand, thick ropes of his milky cum spilling over his fist as he finishes. “Made a mess all over my lap. Wish you were here to lick it up. Getting to feel that wicked tongue of yours on my spent cock would be like fucking heaven, mi muñeca bella.”

Just when you thought he couldn’t get any fucking sexier; he goes and speaks fucking Spanish. You’re in love. 

You’re left exhausted, trembling, and utterly satisfied. Your body hums with the aftershocks, still riding the wave of your orgasm, and all you can do is lie there. 

Your fingers lazily tracing the wet mess between your thighs, hissing at the sensitivity, as you catch your breath, the screen flickering with his smirking lips.

“I’ll be home soon,” he purrs, “Take a nap so I can wake you up by burying my tongue inside that used pussy.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you let out a frustrated sigh, wishing— desperately— that this wasn’t just a video, but reality. A real call from a real man, someone who could be on their way to you right now. You stare at his disheveled, post-climax appearance on the screen for a moment longer before the video fades out, the last remnants of fantasy slowly dissolving as you blink yourself back to reality.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, muscles still quivering, and bend down to pick up your slip dress, your legs wobbly as you walk to the bathroom to clean up. 

oh my fucking god that was amazing

You text your friend once you’re back in bed, having pulled off the loose sheet that you ruined and thankful that it didn’t seep through to the fitted one.

right? i need him so bad you should see some of his other stuff. fucking gold you’re welcome 💋

You scoff, a breathy laugh, as you ‘HAHA’ react to her message. Still, her words stick with you as you open the browser, logging out of her account. The curiosity from before tugs at you harder than ever now, and without a second thought, you find yourself signing up for your own subscription.

When the prompt to choose a username appears, you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard until a sly smile spreads across your lips.

@muneca_bella

Perfect.

[thomine]

unfolding reputation - venti

x reader | 1.5k words | general audiences

venti and you were enrolled in the same school since a young age. you wouldn't really call him a friend though, and the stories surrounding him discourages you from even caring. however, when he's assigned as your teammate in a life-changing project, you start to care. [prompt: university au]

tags: unreliable narrator, one-sided misunderstandings, not proofread

links: work tag | part 6 of au august (2023)

.　⁺ . 　 ˚　✦　.　　+ ⁺　 　 . ✦

His name might not be what people remember, but everyone knows the animal he becomes when he’s given a bottle of booze. It’s what draws the crowd, and when there is a crowd mixed with music, there is a party hard to miss. Even after all those years, he has not changed. He’s still the core of rumours. Venti truly was a force to be reckoned with, and he was going to destroy your perfect cumulative score if you did not intervene.

“I don’t want to partner with him,” you demand. If this was anyone else, you would have sucked it up and saved the energy to email the professor to meet. However, this was Venti. He’ll party all night. You don’t expect good contributions from such behaviour, and he’ll probably be too drunk all the time to know there are deadlines to meet. You’re surprised he hasn’t been expelled when he’s done crazy things in parties and probably does not have a good cumulative score.

The professor looks at you with his chin resting on his hand prompted on the table, an eyebrow raised. You know that look.

“Just because you excelled in my previous module and we’ve gained rapport from your outstanding performance, changing partners is not something I can do just because you want to. I’ve already submitted the randomly assigned pairs to the higher ups. Unless you are willing to write a 5-page report due tomorrow explaining to grumpy old men sitting on the board that this unfair practice is excusable, I cannot help you.”

“But sir,” you start, almost on your knees and ready to beg, “It’s unfair to me that he’ll not be pulling his own weight. Although there are components graded individually, I don’t have the means to tank this project by myself and I really want to produce a project you’ll be proud of.”

He sighs and rests against the back rest of his chair. “Kid,” he starts after massaging his eyes, “life is not going to go as you wish all the time. It’s also an important skill to learn how to adapt to the unwanted circumstances thrown at you. Take it from me that it’s better to encounter and learn from this situation during your schooling days than when you’re out in the workforce.”

“But—”

“I cannot help you.”

He presses his lips into a flat line and shakes his head when you open your mouth to counter his firm stance. You deflate, acutely aware that he’s still your grading professor, and if you’re too insistent, this moment might leave a sour taste which will only lead to more disasters for your sore.

You say a quick apology and bow, then leave.

In the years you knew him, you did not have to work with him even once. Doing well in this module will be what sets you apart from the rest, raising your chances to find a job overseas. Why now?

This was fate playing with you. You just know it.

When you leave the office, there’s a familiar silhouette at the bench outside. Speak of the devil. He’s talking with someone who’s crying. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was the reason she’s crying. He does have eye-catching features and who knows what crazy thing he’ll do without meaning it under the influence of alcohol?

You roll your eyes and make your leave. There’s no time to dwell on the details when your shift at your part-time job starts soon.

 Sleeping in the library was the last thing on your to-do list. Unfortunately, it’s the only thing you’ve accomplished. Someone taps on your shoulder, jolting you awake. You expected to see the librarian. Instead, it’s the infamous Venti. He has a wide smile, and before you can stop him, he takes the seat beside yours.

“I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“What time is it?” you ask, checking your phone. It’s lunch time now. Internally, you groan. Not only did you waste a perfect morning, but you also must deal with a partner who draws eyes everywhere he goes. It doesn’t help that the last thing on your bucket list is to be wrapped and preserved eternally in one of those rumour Venti often ropes himself in.

“It’s time to wake up,” he jokes, but he’s the only one giggling. “I never expected myself to be paired with you for this project,” he says, staring as you fight against your natural instincts to rest your head on the table. “It’s nice to see a familiar face though.”

“Please, you know everyone in school.” Whether you said that out loud or it remained in your head, you’re too tired to care.

Venti chuckles. “I don’t know you though.”

You scoff, not wanting to play any mind games. Unlike him, there are no stories of you floating around the campus. Of course he wouldn’t know you when you try your best to stay out of the limelight.

“So, when do we start?” he asks. You narrow your eyes.

“I started a week ago.”

“That’s good,” he comments and you’re not sure if he means it. “But I asked when do we start?”

You straighten your back, eyes growing wide. He’s cooperating?

“We can start now.”

He wags his finger. “Wrong answer. You’re supposed to say, ‘after lunch’.  How else are you going to have energy and work on this project without eating something?”

“I’m not hungry—”

A low rumble emits from your stomach. You curse.

“Guess that’s enough of an agreement. Then let’s go!” He doesn’t care about the stares at his sudden declaration in such a quiet environment, but you do, and when he grabs your hand to drag you out, it aligned with your desire to just fade into the background so you leave your chair with little resistance.

In your hands are paper. For once, it is not your own. Venti had finished a chapter of the report earlier than expected, although he said he had planned to get it done today so that you could have more time to vet through and ensure consistency. You give his work a cursory glance, and the work is substantial. In fact, you think he might be on to something in one of the points he wrote. You highlight that page to return to it later, but your simple just a peek soon transforms to a full dissection of his arguments.

He returns with your lunch, order memorized from the number of occasions he invited you to eat with him. Then, he heads off to get his. In the meantime, you continue breaking down his work.

A shadow looms over you, but there is no smell of food. You look up and meet with a face you’ve seen around campus—you just can’t remember when.

“Was Venti here?” she asks. She has her hands behind her back and a faltering gaze. You look at the direction in which he left. The stall he ordered from must have been further in as you don’t see him around.

“He’ll come back, but we’ll be busy discussing something. I can let him know if you want to talk to him though. What’s your name?”

It hits you. She’s the girl Venti was consoling outside the office.

“Actually,” she says, breaking you from your thoughts. You did not catch her name. “Could you just give this to him? I don’t think this is worth troubling him to meet me another time.”

You extend your hands for her to pass you a small trinket. It’s a handmade clay charm shaped in a letter “V”. She turns around and grabs something from her backpack, giving you a card as well.

She says her thanks and promptly leaves. You’re not one to pry, but when there are only 2 words taking up all the space on the card, it’s hard to ignore the message even from the corner of your eye.

Thank you.

There was a story you heard, once, of Venti convincing the janitor that he did no wrong even if he was the one who vomited all over the sink, leaving a smelly mess. This could be one of the moments where he tricks someone into thinking he’s innocent, but when he calls your name and you lift your head to spot his dazzling smile, you can’t believe you’re starting to doubt your own beliefs you once held so strongly.

He did finish a whole chapter for the project, which far exceeded your expectations.

He places his lunch down and leans towards you to get a better look at the charm in your hands. Gingerly, he takes it, examines it, and without you uttering a single word, he keeps it with a knowing smile.

The paper in your hand absorbed your attention prior. Now, you can only look at Venti as he chews through his meal.

.　⁺ . 　 ˚　✦　.　　+ ⁺　 　 . ✦

author's note: this idea was super ambitious and i did not do it justice, but i had fun trying to condense the idea into 1k words or so, and publishing this meant i wrote 6 days in a row. that most i've ever written in my life. it was something to be proud of, and this fic makes me happy :)

[suntoru]

ok so can i request a touch-starved gn! reader x bakugo? like they have trust issues and bakugo is helping them get used to things like cuddling, holding hands, etc. but they’re taking baby steps until reader is comfortable. sorry if this isn’t worded clearly, it’s my first time doing a request 〒▽〒

a/n: hi love, thanks for the request! no need to worry, you did great <3

⤷ katsuki bakugo

○ okay so you know his ego is too fat to ever initiate any form of touch

○ so he expects you to do it first

○ he waits… and waits… and waits…

○ a couple months go by before he realizes something is off

○ his insecurities start to rise and he overthinks everything

○ is there something wrong with his hands? why do you never want to hold them? why won’t you cuddle him? does he smell?

○ if he does manage to put his ego aside and just hold you, consider yourself special

○ he’s gonna make some random excuse on why he needs to touch you in the most tsundere way possible

○ like how you’re going to get lost at the mall if you don’t hold his hand, or that if you don’t cuddle, you’re gonna get cold in the night and be whiny the next day

○ so one day, you’re walking in the park and your hand brushes against his

○ it’s like that for at least five minutes before he sucks it up and just intertwines your fingers

○ he sighs in relief when you don’t pull away

○ but you tense up and go stiff, and he knows you’re uncomfortable

○ he just silently lets go and for the rest of the walk, there’s an awkward silence between you two

○ he’s trying, you can see that, and it makes you feel worse

○ so when you do open up, he’d honestly be relieved the problem isn’t him

○ you can almost see the outline of a small smile

○ but he holds it in because he doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t care

○ whatever you have to say, he’ll listen

○ he won’t say it out loud, but he loves you and would do anything to make you comfortable

○ so he just keeps his distance until you tell him you trust him and you want to try something new

○ it starts with intertwining pinkies and quick hugs to linking arms and small cheek pecks

○ he quietly tells you he’s proud of you when he thinks you’re not listening, but you do hear it and it encourages you more

○ eventually you are comfortable enough to just hold each other, and he almost lets out a grin

○ he tries to cover it up

○ it doesn’t work

○ if he sees anyone getting a little more touchy with you than you’re comfortable with, he’ll either yell at them or just drag you away

“tch, dumbass… you could’ve just told me in the beginning… i’d wait a thousand lifetimes to be with you.”

⤷ shoto todoroki

○ he really has the same problem

○ after his painful childhood, he craves affection but is also a bit reluctant to trust

○ it takes a little bit of effort and mutual assurance to start something with him

○ but regardless, you know he loves you even if he’s a little awkward with words

○ if todoroki sees you in a romantic sense, it means he trusts you a lot, but it still takes time to open up

○ when he feels ready, he’ll tell you everything about his past

○ whether you do too or save it for another time, you’re both there for each other

○ the two of you are a little stiff when it comes to physical affection, so you start off slow

○ casual touches and light hair ruffles are shared in the comfort of your dorms

○ always making sure both of you are ready before moving on to another step

○ you relish in the small bits of affection you give to each other, but soon it’s not enough

○ getting a bit greedy with your touches, you find yourself pulling a little closer into his hugs and feeling a bit disappointed when he pulls away

○ one day, you decide you want to try cuddling with shoto

○ you feel a bit embarrassed asking him straightforward, so you try to subtly hint at him

○ telling him it’s a bit cold in your bed alone, or it feels kind of lonely sleeping by yourself

○ unfortunately, he’s a bit too dense to get it

○ you hear a knock on the door and you find shoto standing there holding a large heating mattress pad and some stuffed animals to make it less lonely

○ he gives you such a soft and innocent smile that you don’t have the heart to tell him this isn’t what you wanted

○ so you thank him, and as soon as you shut the door, you deadpan

○ eventually you just give up and ask him if he wants to cuddle

○ you’ll have to explain the concept to him, but he’s more than willing to

○ you’re both really tired so you just sink into each others arms

○ the feeling is definitely foreign to him and something you haven’t felt in a while, so you tell him you understand if he isn’t comfortable with this

○ with a slight blush, he’s quick to mumble he doesn’t want to pull away

○ when he thinks you’re asleep, he whispers something in your ear that makes your heart melt

○“my love, thank you for trusting me enough to do this. i love you.”

[pokegalla]

More fluff coming your way!!! But first a quick note!

A shoutout for @theneurodivergentdummy

They always give me new ideas, they are a talented artist and they deserve some follows!

Also! If y’all love learning about new Undertale AUs, I have an AU I’m creating called Unitytale! I’m working on a fanfic that already has two chapters up and an ask blog just for it! Come on by to ask more questions about the characters, story, or just pop in to say hi! Link to account right below:

Sorry for the long intro! Let’s get right back to it! (Little warning for a little NSFW. Nothing crazy just….Y’know how Red is.)

Underfell bros’ First Time Sleeping over at S/o’s home.

Red:

* MAN was he PUMPED. He played it cool though. Like oh sleep over at your place? What are we, kids? Sure let’s have a little pillow fort set up and make s’mores while we’re at it. Mind you he is mentally fist bumping in the air.

* Bake together before heading to bed! He actually knows how to bake so it would be fun! (Bonus points if it’s super late and y’all just say fuck it I wanna make some cookies-). You’d probably fool around and get into a messy battle of flour and batter.

* After a messy battle and cleaning up, you guys probably just wanna head to bed. He was a little nervous at first but tried to deny it but with your reassurance, he gets the confidence he needs and turns into a huge cuddly teddy bear!

* Though he does get a little….TOO confident if you get what I mean. Expect a firm grip on your tush or as a girl, on your chest. And a cheeky little smile from him if you point it out. (Lil shit-)

* And in the morning you can bet on lazy cuddles and kisses. He would be at his softest and sweetest. Please take advantage and make him blush with compliments and sweet words. He’ll love it and even be just as mushy.

Mini Story Time!!!

You stretched and snuggled more into the blanket. You should probably get up….you had a guest after all. You giggled as you looked up to see your bone-friend slightly snoring as he had an arm around your shoulders. You slowly tried to get up but Red quickly pulled you closer.

“C’mon! I need to make breakfast!”

“Five more minutes….,” He mumbled.

He opened his eye sockets and stared down softly at you, moving your hair out of your face and rubbing it between his fingers. The gesture was so gentle and loving….you smile and cup his cheek bones.

“You’re so adorable when you wake up. Teehee, it’s almost like we’re married,” You said.

You notice his face turns into a brilliant shade of his namesake but smiles before quietly saying, “If I get to see you every morning like this, I wouldn’t mind tying the knot.”

His smile widens as your face flushes up. He kisses you right on the lips. You kiss back, both of you giggling in between and finally ending it with a big hug.

“I love you,” You say happily.

Red kisses your forehead, “Love yah too sweetheart~”

Boss:

* He probably has been waiting AGES for you to ask him. Even setting up minor inconveniences to try and get you to invite him inside. (He was too embarrassed to ask you personally.)

* But when you asked him (or probably figured out his plan) he was estatic!!! He’ll be sure to be making dinner that night! And you can bet he made it elegant AND romantic!

* He even set up a romantic candle lit bubble bath! It comes with wine! (Don’t worry wine doesn’t have to have alcohol in it).

* Once you guys hop into you sleepwear, he low key was nervous. He’s excited to cuddle with you but he was calculating how his tall ass was gonna fit-

* You guys manage though! And in the morning you wake up to a breakfast in bed!

Mini Story Time!!!

You woke up to a lovely smell of coffee and pancakes, making your stomach rumble. You sat up right when Boss had entered the room.

“Ah! You’re Awake. Excellent. I Made Something For You,” He walked over and carefully placed a tray of food over your lap, “There! Now Eat Up! I Want You To Start Your Day With A Nutritious Breakfast!”

You giggle, “Aw you didn’t have to!”

“Of Course I Did! You Are My Date Mate! I Must Tend To You! What Kind Of Monster Would I Be If I Didn’t,” He proudly states.

“That or you’re showing off that your cooking is getting better?” You said.

He blushes, “Well That Too! Look! It’s Not Burned At All!!!”

You laugh and pat the bed beside you, “I’m proud of you. But you did make a bit too much food. I simply can’t eat this myself. Come eat with me! Pleeeeeeease?”

He chuckles softly, “Oh….Alright.”

You both enjoy the food together.

[eddiemunsonsdrug]

The Missing Link Part 2 | Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve knew Hawkins would drag him back one day or another, but coming back because Dustin was missing was almost something out of a nightmare.

warnings: A few curse words and smoking of the devils lettuce

A/N: I hope you enjoy part two, please like and repost if you like this as it keeps me going. Also let me know if you would like to be tagged in future parts. (I can totally picture Eddie living close to Wayne when he gets older, just wants to be close to his father figure)

Words: 2323

--------------------

Steves steps were heavy as he climbed the stairwell up to Robins place, he had told her to pick the place with the elevator but, she wanted the cheaper option, and he thinks she enjoys the mild work out. But currently Steve would give anything for an easy ride to her 9th floor apartment.

He felt close to falling asleep or passing out when he finally got to her door and gave two exhausted heavy knocks on the cheap plywood. The door narrowly missed his slumped over body as it swung open quicker than he had expected, though he knew Robin was most likely sitting close to her door at the kitchen table.

“You’re late.” Robin began her usual time management lecture but was interrupted by Steve collapsing in her arms. Her shock lasted a quick second before she securely wrapped her arms around Steve and held him tightly against her. Though Steve weighed significantly more than her, the adrenaline of seeing her best friend so broken and weak kept them both up. She could feel his tears begin to soak into her shoulder, through her shirt.

“Hey, hey. Its okay.” She squeezed her grip to reassure him. “I’m here.” She whispered. “I missed you.” Steve sobbed into her, he was trying his best to regain stability, he hated appearing weak, he hated being weak. He was supposed to be the strong one, but Robins arms stayed around him.

“I missed you too.”  

---------------------------------------------------------

You had napped after you had gotten back to your own place and Steve had left. But after waking up and seeing the darkness of the night flooding your apartment you knew you didn’t want to be there; you didn’t want to be alone.

After chewing your thumb for a while, debating on reaching out to Robin to see if Steve had gotten there okay, you convinced yourself you were simply being paranoid. Its not like this was his first time at her place, he had visited before. Though you only found out he had been there after he had already left back for college and Robin had let it slip.

But you still couldn’t help sitting and wondering what could have been going through Steves mind earlier in the day. You finally calmed yourself down and wanted nothing more than to get out of your apartment.

You called the one person you knew would answer, would be happy to see you at anytime of day. “Well, hey there little bird.” Eddies voice rumbled through the phone; it sounded like you woke him up. “Were you sleeping? You were probably sleeping.” You rambled as you looked at the nearest clock, it was nearing 1 in the morning. “Hey, hey, woah. I’m never too asleep to answer your calls, you know that.” He reassured as you took in a deep breath to calm your racing heart and the guilt rising in your gut. “Eddie, go back to sleep. I’m fine.” You attempted to convince him. You knew how rare it was for Eddie to get a full night’s rest. The months after Vecna had been hard on everyone, but the lasting effects were mostly on Eddie. Well, Eddie and Steve. They were the ones left with the scars; they were the ones that were reminded of everything they had been through just from a simple glance at a mirror.

“Do you want to come over?” As each moment passed, the more awake he sounded, the more you felt awful for waking him in the first place. “You don’t need to do that Eds.” A scoff came from the other side. “Get your ass over here already.” You could hear him getting out of bed and shuffling around. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He said before abruptly hanging up, ending your ability to fight him more on this.

You stayed seated for a few more minutes, you couldn’t shake the nerves built in your stomach, you needed to decide if you were going to let anyone else know that Steve was in town, that you had seen him with your own two eyes, that you had touched and held him and that he looked like a ghost.

You exited your place and hopped on your bike, wondering why you didn’t choose to ride it to the police site earlier that day. But a bit happy you hadn’t, or you may not have gotten a ride from Steve.

The spring air cooled the sweat you had inevitably caused during your overthinking, and the wind in your hair began to relax you. You felt like you could fall asleep again just from a short bike ride.

Pulling up to Eddies trailer you could see his silhouette in his kitchen window.

After everything with Vecna was finished the government replaced Waynes old trailer with a slightly newer one and offered Eddie a place of his own, it could have been anywhere. He could have moved to a new country and changed his name. He had a chance at a new life, he wouldn’t have had to work much in his life, he would have been set.

But instead he had a simple request, he wanted a trailer of his own  next to Waynes.

He worked as a mechanic in the day and still played shows at night with Corroded Coffin. Though fame and fortune was no longer what he wanted in life after Vecna, he still loved music and playing with his friends.

It warmed your heart that he had stayed in Hawkins, that he had stayed humble and modest, that he still lived right by Wayne.

Climbing up the wooden steps you reached the door and knocked lightly, still scared to be here, and bothering him. He appeared in a flash, the door swinging open and his smiling face beaming towards you. He looked exhausted, his hair was a knotted mess, and his eyes were rather blood shot. “Y/N.” He mused . “Eddie.” You said back attempting to plaster a smile to your face. “Come in and tell me what’s wrong.” He pushed open the screen door to allow you to enter.

As you stepped into his place you shook your head. “Nothings wrong, did I ever say something was wrong?” The screen door slammed when he released his hand from it. “No you did not, but you, madam, have a tell.”

“A tell?”

“A tell.” He gestured towards your body. “You just kind of-” He slumped forward, his arms hanging loosely in front of him. “Deflate.” You snorted at his actions. “I do not.” You poked at his kidney to get him to flinch. “You do, its your tell.” He mocked as he straightened upwards and entered his kitchen area.

He leaned backwards from the cabinets and wiggled a joint between his fingers along with wiggling his eyebrows. You chuckled. “I don’t know if I should, my brains already so foggy.” Eddie moved over to you resting on the back of his couch and dramatically dropped onto it upside down. “Come on, you know it would help me sleep.” You rolled your eyes, still deep within you felt that guilt yet again.

“Okay, but you can’t use that excuse again for a week.” You looked over your shoulder and down towards him, he crossed his fingers against his chest before rolling the rest of the way off the couch and onto the floor before bounding back up.

“Lets hit the roof.” You could use the fresh air once again.

As the two of you made your way outside you followed behind him, watching him climb up the ladder he had perched onto his trailer. It was something he had done to his new place almost immediately after getting it. Once the trailer was secure and steady, he placed an older looking ladder against the side and placed two cement blocks against the bottom. It had become an instant new hang out place for the gang. Whether anyone wanted to get some sun, smoke, or have a safe place for intense conversations.

After reaching the top and joining Eddie sitting on the roof, you watched as he lit and took the first hit from the joint. Though he had quit dealing, no one thinks Eddie will ever go without pot.

He passed the joint towards you and laid down against the cool metal before exhaling. You took a few smaller hits; you didn’t want to be falling asleep at Eddies like normal. You wanted to get up tomorrow to see if you could find Steve once more. “So, are you ever going to tell me?” You sighed and passed the joint back into Eddies hands, laying next to him and watched as he took some puffs. “Well, I mean Dustin’s still missing.” Eddie exhaled and the two of you watched the smoke float into the sky before disappearing completely. “I know that little bird.” Plucking the joint once more you took a bigger hit, hoping the weed would give you some form of comfort.

“But you’re carrying something else with you.” He stated, you held your breath for a second too long and coughed out the smoke. Eddie couldn’t help but grin in your direction. “ Eddie.” You began as you cleared your throat and took in a few breaths to cool the raging fire now burning your chest. “Listen, if you’re not comfortable telling me now, just know I’m always here for when you are ready” he said, the timber in his voice rumbled through the roof and down your back. “Thanks.” You replied meekly.

The joint was nearly finished as you both stared up into the stars and moonlight of the night sky.

“God, I wish I knew where that kid was.” Eddie muttered. “Yeah.” You breathed. “Me too.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steves vision was hazy as he began to wake up, he didn’t remember falling asleep but, here he was on top of Robins bed with his muscles aching every time he took a breath. He looked around the small open concept apartment, Robin was in the kitchen portion stirring gently into a pot. “Hey.” Steve creaked out, his throat and mouth were both dry. He coughed and cleared his throat as he forced his sore body to sit up right. “Hey.” Robin said back as she moved to her cupboard and grabbed a glass, quickly filling it with water and walking over to Steve.

He brushed his hair back out of his face. “How long was I asleep for?” He questioned as he grasped the glass and took three giant gulps from it. “About two hours.” Robin answered looking behind her to her stove clock. “You feeling better?” She asked as she went back into the kitchen to watch the pot on the element. “Not really.” Steve said truthfully, his brain was thumping in his skull and his whole body felt like stone, plus everything else that was running through his mind wasn’t exactly going to be fixed with a small nap.

“What are you cooking?” He finished the glass of water and moved to sit at the kitchen table, pulling out a seat and watching Robin as she chuckled. “Instant noodles, hope you’re hungry for some gourmet cooking.” She continued to laugh as she added in the soup mix. Steves stomach inadvertently began to grumble. “Honestly, that sounds like the best right now.” He smirked. He exited his seat and headed to the cabinets. “Where are your bowls?” He asked whilst digging through every shelf. “Oh, yeah, I just eat this out of mugs.” Steve rolled his eyes. “You have no bowls but, you have mugs?” Robin turned the stove off and placed a hand on her hip. “Don’t judge me, I couldn’t find any I liked.” Steve pulled out the biggest mugs he could find and set them on the counter. “Pour the soup Buckley.”

They sat back at the table and forked at their noodles and sipped at the broth for a bit. “So.” Robin began, Steve looked up from his mug and raised an eyebrow. “So?” He asked back. “Are you going to ever tell me what happened today? Or am I going to have to beat it out of you, Dingus.”

Steve went back to staring down his mug of noodles. “Oh, long day.” He shrugged, avoiding the exhausting subject. “I uh- saw Y/N.” Robins eyes bulged with shock. “Don’t tell me she was at the scene?” Robins voice had a panic in it that Steve was surprised to hear. “Yeah, she was. How did you know that?” Robin’s eyes softened as she pushed the food from her. “She’d been doing that since Dustin disappeared. Its like she has a police scanner, she always finds where they are that day. She’s been warned to stay away, Hopper usually drives her home.” Steves heart sank in his chest from this news, you had been on this since the day after Dustin disappeared and were willing to get in trouble to find him. And yet Steve felt exhausted from one swim in a pond.

“God, I had no idea.” Guilt ran through his blood. “She was so distraught today.” Robin nodded. “She’s been like that every day; she tends to run out of energy from how much she stresses.” Steves mind flashed with the memory of you today. “Yeah, she looked exhausted and ready to give up.” Steves shoulders slumped as he fiddled with his fork. “She’s like a sister to the kid.” Robin nodded lightly, she loves the kids but, Y/N always had a way with Dustin and his need for answers.

“Fuck Steve, what if its-“

Steve cut her off with the slam of his fist onto the vinyl table.

“Its not, he’s dead, okay? Repeat it. Vecna is dead.” He stared harshly into her eyes.

Robin stared back in a moment of shock before closing her eyes and taking a breath.

“Vecna is dead.” She repeated.

[tunastime]

Hot Tea

Summary:

“Let me over the fence,” Bdubs says, all at once. He turns his head, but not his body, to Etho. Etho looks away, shaking his head.

“I can’t do that.”

“Let me over,” Bdubs says again, and as he sees Etho open his mouth in protest yet again, he lurches forward, stuttering out his words. He nearly knocks the tea out of his own hands. “Just—just for tonight. Just tonight.”

Etho knows he has to divide the base between them. It's the only way to settle, now, knowing everything between them. How Bdubs shouldn't be there. Etho builds the fence. Etho divides them. And Etho divides himself in the process.

(AO3 link)

(2,448 words)

The worst part about the whole situation was that Etho did not want Bdubs to leave. The fence was his idea, just high enough to where if either of them tried anything, it wouldn't be profitable, and just low enough to still meet halfway.

The loneliness set in approximately three days after Etho set the last fence post.

It wasn't even like Bdubs and him were physically apart—aside from a wood railing between them. But Etho felt the emptiness in the space next to him, when he checked the farm, when he sharpened his axe, when he hung the kettle over the stove and willed it to boil, when he looked up, seeing the stars in the sky.

He never knew it would be so hard to look up into his husband's face and expect there to be something else behind red, hungry eyes. It was like Bdubs was possessed by a creature that could never be sated by the bloodshed of one.

Striking flint against steel, Etho lights a fire. It was a dangerous torch in the night, but for this moment of respite he does not care. He lays meat in the red hot coals and hooks the kettle to the rig balanced precariously above the smooth yellow flame.

Bdubs is at the fence in an instant, the flames reflecting in his eyes, casting gaunt shadows on his bruised and healing face.

"Nice of you to keep the fire close to the fence," he chirps, shooting Etho a toothy grin. Etho looks over for only a moment to study the fire in his eyes before he turns away, face morphing into a grimace first then back to neutral in quick succession. He shrugs.

"Figured I could do something for you," he says coolly. He can’t help but smile just a little, though. "It'll be a cold night without it."

"You don't have to pity me," Bdubs says. "Better off without your help."

Etho's eyebrows raise. "I can snuff it out if you prefer—"

"No! No," Bdubs lunges forward, holding to the fence post he had been leaning on. "Don't do that. Don't be like that,"

Etho laughs to himself, casting another throw away glance in Bdubs' direction.

A solemn silence falls over the two of them as Etho works, busying himself. He stokes the fire to keep the coals alive, and Bdubs keeps his back to the fence, soaking in the heat. They partake in an equivalent exchange so often a part of their intertwined lives, whether or not Etho or Bdubs really noticed.

Every so often, Bdubs turns, looking up into the clear sky, tipping himself to lean against the fence posts. He finally stills, eyes turned to the sky, as Etho lifts the pot of water and dried leaves from the flame and settles, precariously, with his cup of tea. The wooden cup is warm in his hands, steam rising from the lip. When he takes the first sip, it’s scorching and bitter, and he swallows with difficulty.

Etho, too, finally looks up, kettle cooling on the coals, still steaming. He speaks softly, as to not startle Bdubs if he were sleeping, but finds that he barely meets a whisper.

"It's clear tonight," he says. He hears Bdubs hum to himself. "I hope it stays that way."

"I don't think it's rained once since we got here," Bdubs says, sitting up. He turns to face Etho, who shifts back on instinct. He nearly kicks himself for it, since Bdubs made no further movement toward him. For a split second, a fracture opens in Bdubs’ scowling facade, and the bone deep hurt shows instead. Etho's face morphs into concern, and he shifts back.

"Yeah," he says, looking away. "You're right."

Bdubs sighs. The fence creaks as he leans against it.

"So you're still doing our ritual, huh?" He asks, his voice flat. When Etho looks at him, he can't see his face, but Etho doesn't speak for fear of the confusion being too evident in his voice. He can't tell if Bdubs reads it in his body language or his face but Bdubs shakes his head, settling back against the fence.

"The tea, Etho. You used to make tea for us at night. Especially if you weren't feeling well."

Etho blinks. His stomach is in thick knots, twisted in on itself—sick, as Bdubs had assumed. He holds the cup loose in his hand, bringing it up to drink, the motion deliberant.

"I did?" he asks, voice somewhat lost. He sets the cup in the soft sand beside him. "Oh. Hm. I guess I’d forgotten that."

“I’m sure you did,” Bdubs says, and then in one motion, he rises to his feet. Etho can hear the sand crunch as he walks away and for a moment lets out the breath in his chest.

Etho listens as Bdubs leaves, and only then does he eat. It’s not a satisfying meal in its own right. It’s plain and lukewarm and hard to swallow, and would be even without the lump in his throat. He sits on Bdubs’ words as he eats, turning them over to inspect the sentences. He never thought twice about how the little habits might change each meeting but clearly the two had gone from meeting like a semicolon to meeting like a period. There was a sense of finality in every word Bdubs spoke to him. Like he expected it to all come down around him.

The ache was back in Etho’s chest, a solemn silence that replaced hunger and hurt a little less. It wasn’t welcome, but it was bearable.

Etho tracked the sounds of Bdubs’ footsteps across the sand. He must have gotten something to eat because he hadn’t said anything in between the moment he left and the moment Etho was within his sight. Everything was within earshot, silence was only a formality.

Etho hears Bdubs sigh as he sits, then hears him clear his throat.

"You know, Etho, it doesn't have to be like this,” Bdubs says, almost nonchalant. “I can help you. We can help each other, even, it's not that hard—"

"C’mon, now,” Etho cuts him off, raising his hand. “You can't possibly mean that."

Bdubs sighs, and it has a certain quake to it that does very little to settle Etho's nerves.

"I don't," he says after a beat, but immediately inhales as if to note that he's speaking again. "But Etho—"

"Bdubs, please—"

"No, Etho listen—"

"No, you listen—"

"I miss you, okay?" Bdubs says, turning fully around to face Etho. "I miss you so, so much, you have no idea ..."

And then Bdubs falls silent. His chest rises and falls haphazardly like he can’t get a breath in otherwise and his face has fully morphed into something very painful for Etho to look at. Even in half darkness he doesn’t want to see the ache in his eye that may surely manifest in his chest if he does. He does not want there to be a hand shaped hole in his heart where it may be held and willed to beat. He does not want anything. If simply wasting away in this space would be enough to sate Bdubs he would do it. But he finds that that is not the case.

“I know,” Etho says, voice bowing. It barely scrapes by a whisper, so he clears his throat. His words stick together. “I know .”

The quiet, though unbearable, envelopes them again. Etho takes the time to look up to where Bdubs’ head is tilted, shoulders knocking back against the fence posts. He watches the sky, hoping to find any sort of solace he can, and finding only the cool black, and the stars that wink back at him. He opens his mouth for a moment, almost pointing out a series of stars that form one of the many constellations he’d gotten good at recognizing, but then shuts it. He stays quiet for a minute even though it weighs like a heavy coat on his shoulders. He holds his cup in one hand, letting the warmth seep into his fingers until he reaches over to his bag, and sets the cup in the sand. There, he takes another small wooden cup from the satchel and turns back to the pot. The metal tin is lukewarm at best, and only a few long wisps of steam rise from the cup’s surface, but Etho cradles it in both hands. With a deliberate slowness, he turns to Bdubs, and extends his hands.

Bdubs sees him out of the corner of his eye and when his gaze fixates on the cup outstretched to him silently, Etho’s gaze elsewhere, his eyes snap to the cup and his hands and not Etho’s face. He doesn’t dare look, likely for the same reason. He takes the cup and only then does Etho sigh in relief. Bdubs takes a long sip of bitter tea (Etho can tell its bitter, Bdubs’ pulls a face so scrunched it takes everything in him not to laugh) and then moves to speak. His eyes fixate on the stars above him.

“Etho...” Bdubs says, still looking up into the sky. Etho turns his head to him, and in the light of the fire, he can just see the profile of his face, tipped back. Etho’s eyebrows raise questioningly.

“Yes?”

“I want to offer you a proposition.”

Etho’s voice bubbles with amusement.

“Shoot,” he says, as if he doesn’t already know where Bdubs is going. In all honesty, he’s thrown away the notion all together until the words slip from Bdubs’ mouth.

“Let me over the fence,” Bdubs says, all at once. He turns his head, but not his body, to Etho. Etho looks away, shaking his head.

“I can’t do that.”

“Let me over,” Bdubs says again, and as he sees Etho open his mouth in protest yet again, he lurches forward, stuttering out his words. He nearly knocks the tea out of his own hands. “Just—just for tonight. Just tonight.”

His voice mellows out as he sits on the words, the last of them spoken low and without fervor.

Etho sighs, his brow furrowing.

“Why, B?”

Bdubs shrugs, a motion that’s almost lost to the dark.

“We both said that we miss each other,” he reasons. “What’s one day? One night?”

“I...” Etho tsks , sighing through his nose. The words he wants to say are hard to find, and he folds and unfolds his hands, as if the words might be written somewhere on the backs of them, or in the sand around him. He finds nothing but the grey-brown swirls in the soul sand.

“Bdubs...” he tries. “I don’t think it would be just one night if I let you do that.”

Bdubs is silent. He deflates, body moving as he twists around, leaning sideways against the fence. He folds one arm over himself, letting the other rest on the sand.

“Then...then...” Bdubs fights, looking anywhere but Etho’s eye. “At least let me hold your hand.”

He finally manages to get the words out with what seems like a frustrated sigh. Etho almost laughs. He almost can’t help himself. The notion that Bdubs would be asking to hold his hand when they were married not long before, and for all accounts and purposes, still. But the notion remains terrifyingly the same. He requests Etho’s vulnerability, face up. Palm up. Much like how his hand rests under the last rung of the fence, palm up, fingers outstretched.

And Etho gives it to him. He sets his hand, palm down, into Bdubs’, and nearly instantly does he find that Bdubs locks his fingers around his own and the side of his hand, slotting in the funny way he always held his hand at this angle. Bdubs gives Etho’s hand a hesitant squeeze.

It’s as if all the confidence Bdubs had at the beginning of their meeting tonight has seeped out from his body. He holds onto Etho’s hand with careful pressure, thumb skimming the side of his fingers and over the top of his hand. He stops for just a moment to trace a thin, fine scar at the base of Etho’s thumb. Etho makes a noise in the back of his throat, a huff out of his nose, as the motion settles.

With his free hand, Etho finishes the last of his luke-warm, bitter tea, and realizes that the flavor isn’t so bad anymore. It settles in his stomach, no longer knotted, and as he presses back against the fence he can actually feel the dark, heavy sky around him again. There’s still a shred of empty air that claws at the corner of his heart, but, all at once, Etho decides that there’s no reason it should fester.

He detangles his fingers from Bdubs’ hand. In doing so, a short, painful oh catches in Bdubs’ throat, but it’s very nearly replaced with the sound of Etho pulling himself to his feet. He looks down at Bdubs, and Bdubs’ eyes are wide and Bdubs blinks hard as he looks away, and a second later Etho isn’t looking at him. He’s moving, pulling himself over. He doesn’t even need to hop the fence. He lifts one leg, then the other, and he’s over it. And he’s there. He falls to his knees and Bdubs is in front of him, eyes still wide and mouth slack jawed. There’s nothing behind the red in his eyes, at least, to Etho, the hunger is gone. There’s nothing. But they are round, and wide, and glossy, and Bdubs is halfway to reaching out to him before he even thinks about pulling away and Etho can’t help but meet him anyway. He pulls himself into Bdubs’ outstretched arms, lurching forward into him. His head falls into the dip of his neck, hands cradling his shoulder blades. His knees sink into the sand and his body forms a convex at which Bdubs is the apex. He lets himself be held in Bdubs’ hands like everything else has suddenly stopped mattering. And to Etho, it has.

Bdubs holds the back of his neck in the palm of his hand and the other rests at the top of his spine before he curls his fingers into Etho’s jacket and holds him fully.

“Etho you said—” he tries, the nervousness bubbling up into his voice. Maybe he, too, fears the inevitable that Etho is promptly ignoring.

“I don’t care what I said, I missed you,” Etho says against his shoulder. “I miss you, Bdubs.”

“I know, Etho,” Bdubs says. His forehead falls to Etho’s shoulder, his body sagging as he sighs. “I know.”

[urwelcomeforthis]

Alex’s tattoo shows up the day after she punches Marcus Hinkle.

He had been picking on Kara in the hallway, dangling her math book above her head, taking advantage of his summer growth spurt.

Kara still doesn’t know what possessed Alex – Marcus Hinkle had been a thorn in her side since she had landed on Earth and started school a year ago, but whatever the reason, today was the day Alex couldn’t take anymore.

Eliza had been furious. Jeremiah had been (not so) silently proud.

Kara didn’t know what she had felt, really. Especially not when she asked Alex why, and the older girl had just shrugged and said “You’re my sister. It’s what we do.”

Up until this point being sisters meant fights in the hallway over the bathroom and ignoring each other at the dinner table.

Apparently, things were changing.

Kara is just waking up when she hears Alex’s hushed “What the hell?”

“What is it?” She asks, groggily sitting up and wiping at the sleep in her eyes.

Her sister is holding her forearm up, frantically scrubbing at a spot right in the middle, her eyes frantic.

“I don’t…. I don’t know! It’s like a tattoo but I didn’t get a tattoo! Fuck, Mom is going to kill me.” Alex sounds panicked as she continues scrubbing at the spot, and Kara feels her heartbeat speed up.

“You had a tattoo just appear on your skin?” Kara asks slowly, her mind suddenly far away on a planet that doesn’t exist anymore, in a culture she had been forced to leave behind.

Alex stops scrubbing and looks at Kara with a piercing gaze. “Yeah. It’s some funny symbol too, like the way you used to write before you learned English. Did you do this to me?”

Alex leaps off the bed and crosses the room in two quick strides, arm held out like an accusation.

Kara shrinks in on herself a little but nods. “I think so. I didn’t know it was possible here, but well, on Krypton when your soul mate reveals themselves, a tattoo linking you appears. I should have one too, somewhere, if you do.”

Alex stops dead in her tracks, her eyes wide. “Soul mates? But we’re sisters! That’s so gross!”

Jumping up from the bed, hands held up in surrender Kara hastens to explain further. “No! Not like that, I promise! Back home, people had different kinds of soul mates. Sometimes it was the romantic kind like you talk about here on Earth, but other times it could just be a compatible soul, someone who was meant to be a part of you.”

Alex still looks wary, if not relieved, as she tentatively holds out her arm. “So, what does this mean? What kind of soul mates are we?”

Stepping forward Kara delicately traces the symbols on Alex’s forearm. “It literally means “sister of the soul.” Je shesur. The symbol after it is unique, the way we would know we were linked. If this had happened on Krypton it would mean we were soul sisters. Not from the same parents but family just the same.”

Alex nods. “And here on Earth? What does it mean here?”

“The same thing. At least that’s what it means to me.” Kara refuses to meet Alex’s eyes, not sure she wants to see what waits for her there.

There’s a long minute of silence after Alex takes her arm back. The clearing of her throat brings Kara’s eyes up from their place on the ground.

“Where’s yours?” Alex asks, eyes burning with curiosity.

Kara shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s not on my arms like yours is. It must be hidden. Can you look on my back?”

“Sure.” Alex nods. “Lift up your shirt.”

Kara turns and tugs her shirt up and over her head. It takes a moment, but she hears her sister gasp followed by the feel of fingertips against her left shoulder blade.

“It’s the same as mine.” Alex says reverently, and Kara closes her eyes against the emotion welling up there.

Who would have thought she would get to have this piece of home?

“So, I guess I’m stuck with you. For like, ever, huh?” Alex smiles once Kara has turned back around.

Kara grins back. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Alex shrugs. “Could be worse. But you have to tell Mom about this, because she’ll never believe me, and she is going to be pissed that I have a tattoo.”

“Sure, I can tell Mom.” Kara grins, a piece of her heart settling in place. She hasn’t felt at home on Earth, not really, but at this moment she feels like it isn’t all that bad.

--

The next person to get a tattoo is, interestingly enough, James.

It doesn’t come when they’re dating, or whatever it was that they were doing, no.

It comes after he has revealed himself to be Guardian, and he and Kara have the biggest fight of their friendship.

Kara wakes up the morning after tired, groggy, and more than a little cranky. Its as she’s stripping down to get in the shower that she notices it – the Kryptonese scrawled along the inside of her right bicep.

Throniv Shesur. Protector of the soul.

Kara heaves a deep, deep, sigh and grabs her phone.

She meets James at the DEO, both tentative around each other after the yelling match of the day before.

“So. I woke up with a tattoo. Kryptonese. Any idea what that’s about?” James looks smug, like he’s won some kind of battle with Kara and god, at that moment she wishes they were in the training room and she could just punch him.

“Yeah. I did too. It means “protector of the soul.” She crosses her arms against her chest, desperately trying to hold onto her anger from yesterday but the wide grin on James’ face is making it hard.

“I know. I asked Clark first thing since I figured you’re still pissed at me. He was a little surprised, but he translated it for me.”

“Where’s it at?” Kara asks, still pretending to be upset but truthfully it was hard given the glaring message from home telling her that James was meant to be Guardian. That they were meant to protect each other. Protect others together.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” James says with a waggle of his eyebrows and that’s what finally breaks Kara, a laugh ringing out across the room.

It wasn’t who she expected to have a tattoo, not in this way at least, but if it had to be anyone, she’s glad it’s James.

--

Mon-El doesn’t get a tattoo. Kara wishes she were more disappointed.

--

The last person to get a tattoo is someone Kara had desperately hoped both would and would not get a tattoo.

For a long time, she feared what that tattoo would be, if it were to happen. She feared having to explain it, having to explain herself.

She had checked with Clark a few times, when paranoia would get the better of her.

No, he always told her. Lex did not have a tattoo. They were enemies, yes, but it hadn’t been decided by destiny or fate. It just was.

That mollified Kara because she couldn’t stand it if she and Lena were to become Clark and Lex. She would fight against it, fight against fate to keep it from happening.

And then, well. It kind of happens anyways.

They aren’t enemies, not really. Lena just hates Kara and aims a few Kryptonite cannons at her and tries to mind control the entire planet, but really everyone is allowed a brief lapse of their sensibility, right?

And what matters is she came around, in the end.

It did take time, however, for them to build back to what they once had. It was different now, but in the way that things once broken and fixed usually are.

It was better, if anything.

They were back to shared lunches and dinners, quick breakfasts and coffee breaks. They were back to game nights as partners and movie nights as friends, and the occasional sleepovers as best friends.

Things were finally back to normal, so of course Kara had to go and absolutely, irrevocably, mess it up.

It was Alex’s fault, really.

If she hadn’t said anything, if she hadn’t asked Kara what was up between her and Lena lately, Kara probably never would have stopped to think about it.

She never would have stopped to think about the way her heart sped up when Lena entered a room, or the way her palms got sweaty when they hugged, or the way she just could not stop staring at Lena when she laughed at game nights.

But now she had thought of it and had come to the very scary conclusion that she was in love with her best friend.

Her best friend who didn’t have a tattoo.

She would, after all this time, have a tattoo, the tattoo, if they were meant to be together, right?

Kara mulls it over for weeks. It haunts her. She asks Lena about tattoos, and if she has any.

She learns that yes, in fact Lena does have tattoos and boy howdy one of them is on her lower back and it is seared into the back of her eyes now that she has seen it.

But she doesn’t have any kryptonian tattoos, which is really what Kara was aiming for.

Much like it was Alex’s fault that Kara even realized she was in love, it’s also Alex who reminds Kara of one important detail.

“Well I didn’t get my tattoo until after I punched what’s his face. Maybe you have to tell Lena how you feel and then she’ll get the tattoo.”

Kara feels dumb struck, right there on her own couch, because of course, Alex is right.

The tattoos always come after the person has already revealed themselves.

Then of course comes the true fear: what if she tells Lena and she still doesn’t get a tattoo?

That’s the question she’s mulling over the next night as she and Lena sit on her couch watching some documentary that had been put on Netflix.

Lena looks beautiful, face bare of makeup, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, glasses slipping down her nose.

She’s eating a piece of pizza, a rare treat after a long week of work, and Kara decides that it doesn’t matter if Lena doesn’t get a tattoo.

She’s hopelessly, desperately in love with the woman and she can’t let a tattoo that may or may not come dictate her life.

“I’m in love with you, you know.” Kara blurts out, like this isn’t a life changing moment, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say. (It is.)

Lena chokes a little on the bite she was swallowing, her hand coming up to her chest as she sets down the slice.

“Excuse me?”

Kara laughs. She’s never felt more free than in this moment. “I’m in love with you. I just thought you should know.”

Lena looks at her, shock written all over her face. “Oh. I guess that’s good.”

“Just good?” Kara nudges Lena’s thigh with her knee.

Lena shakes her head. “I mean it’s more than good, considering I’m in love with you too.”

“Yeah?” Kara could float up to the moon, she thinks.

Lena smiles, nose crinkled. “Yeah.”

It’s the next morning that Lena calls and asks if Kara can stop by. She has this tattoo she didn’t have yesterday, right on her ribcage, and it looks like it’s Kryptonian.

Kara frantically searches her own body, finding the script on her hip, on the left side.

Zhao Shesur. Love of the soul.

It took them five years to get to this point, but Kara knows, this moment was more than worth the wait.

[keigosbirdie]

FEMALE READER VERSION

Of all Hawks’ secrets, you are the most well-kept.

Version: Female Reader version | Male Reader Version Links: Gifset (art only) | Mood Music

NIGHTHAWK Rating: Explicit   |   Word Count: 13k  | Art: 14 animations, 2 stills (Technically no spoilers, but if you aren’t caught up on the events of the manga you’ll be missing important context. The fic takes place after Hawks’ meeting with the commission.) Synopsis: Casual was the word you used when you first agreed to sleep together. As weeks turned into months turned into a year, those quick and dirty nights blossomed into private moments that earned him little pieces of you. Warnings: Dom!Hawks, Nurse!Reader, animalistic behavior, rough sex, quirk/feather play, light bondage, biting, praise kink, hurt/comfort, secret relationship, talk of past lovers, mentions of death, panic attacks, PTSD, mention of a past, non-canon event. Spicy, then bitter, then sweet.

There was nothing exceptional about your life from an outsider’s perspective. You lived in an apartment on the outskirts of Jaku City, unmarried and childless. During the day you attended medical school where you studied for your doctorate. During the evening you worked as a nurse in the intensive care unit. Then, when you were home, you sat alone for dinner at a kitchen table meant for two.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

For the past year, however, an occasional tap at your sixteenth-story window would break up the lonely monotony. The tap was quite a scandalous secret, not that anyone would believe you if you let it slip. Even you still had a hard time accepting the bizarre reality of the situation; but it was real. Just as real his voice, which you could hear echoing faintly through your apartment.

You glanced up from your lukewarm dinner and dropped your fork. For a long moment, you sat in silence, listening intently until you heard it again. It was him; it was his voice. Your heart pounded against your ribs as you shoved out of your chair and jogged to the window. The part between your curtains opened, but when you peeked through you saw only the glow of city lights below a blanket of darkness.

A frown found your face, and a sigh spilled past your lips. You heard his voice; you would never mistake it for another. It echoed casually against your dim walls again, and you turned your head towards the sweet sound. The television was on in the living room. Your heart dropped at the realization. The little square thing sat on your end table and taunted you with his image. 

There he was. Hawks, the winged hero, being interviewed by a woman in a pantsuit. It wasn’t often he did interviews, so you left your dinner to go cold in favor of watching the program.

He was dressed in his hero costume, his visor lifted to rest atop his blond, wind-whipped hair, and his scarlet wings folded politely against his back. A wide grin graced his face as he exchanged charming banter with the woman. She seemed enamored with his expression, but she didn't know him like you knew him. He was smiling, yes, but the edges of his eyes were crinkled with tension. When he chuckled, his wings folded a little harder against his back. His beats of laughter were calculated. Uncomfortable, that's what he was.

He’d been that way a lot lately.

"So, I'm sorry, I have to ask- Every bachelorette in the country is wondering, is there any special lady in your life?" the interviewer asked. It was airy and friendly in intent, but your lip twitched with faint annoyance anyway. Your face fell slack and you leaned back into your chair. 

"Well, I don't know about every bachelorette," he quipped. His face was a little grainy on your old TV screen, but you could see the slight pink in his cheeks. He was cute. So, very cute. It made you miss him that much more. "But my personal life, well, how alluring would I be if I didn't keep a few things a mystery?"

And a mystery it was, to everyone but you.

Thankfully, the woman interviewing him had enough tact to know when to move on. Their conversation mercifully veered away from his sex life—your sex life—and towards his agency. The television was a wondrous thing. His voice rang through your home despite his absence. It brought sadness, but also a bittersweet comfort. Viewing him live stung your soul. You watched until his interview ended with a commercial break, and then decided not to wait up for him again. That would only lead to another sleepless night. 

Still, the window remained unlocked for him as you called it a night. The yellow glow of your desk lamp died with a click, and you climbed into your bed. Sleep was always difficult. Many nights you laid awake as you thought about your ICU patients. The things you saw in the ward were enough to scar anyone. But if it wasn’t work that plagued your mind, it was him.

Casual was the word you’d used when you’d first agreed to sleep together. It was easy to swallow when he only snuck into your apartment at night for sex. For the first few months, that was it. He’d steal into your home through the cover of darkness and you’d share a violently passionate night. Then, he would vanish out your window until he craved you again. Which, thankfully, was often.

As weeks turned into months turned into a year, however, those quick and dirty nights blossomed into private moments that earned him little pieces of you. You realized you were in too deep when it became difficult to be unbothered by the casual daydreaming of others. His face was clipped to girls’ backpacks long before you knew him, but others, covered so openly in his merchandise, began to make you a touch bitter. His sex life had been speculated about in tabloids since his debut, but to keep your mouth shut while your friends contemplated the size of his penis became hurtful and emotionally taxing.

The only one you could confide those pains in was the man who unintentionally caused them, but Hawks was too sweet. If he knew just how much it tore you up, he’d surely break things off to spare you the misery.

You cursed yourself for getting lost in thoughts of him. Bemoaning the casual chatter of others as he gracefully balanced the weight of the world on his shoulders made you feel weak. You allowed your eyes to close, your breathing slowed, and your body relaxed into your mattress. By the mercy of whatever god watched over you, sleep slowly overtook all your other thoughts.

At least until a shuffle and a squeak made you toss in your sheets. A faint light spilled into your room from the window, and a coolness settled into your bed. You shivered. It was the fresh winter air from outside. The cold wasn't the only intruder. It was him. 

The light was dim, but a dark silhouette of flared wings blocked out the moonbeams. Your heart lurched in your chest at the dominant display. It was a habit of the bird in him to fluff up when his blood was hot. His predatory energy kept you submissively silent rather than greet him.

Floorboards creaked beneath his shoes. The pulls of their zippers clicked with the movement. His breath was heavy as he moved to your bed. You caught a vision of your lover’s face. Little flecks of snow followed in. They danced around the brilliance of his wings and settled into his hair. In the blue light of winter’s night, his gold eyes looked dazzling. They also harbored a glint of violence akin to the blown-out eyes of a predator in pursuit of prey.

It was a familiar look from the strange animal. He’d seemed so open and friendly when he’d first snuck into your hospital room to talk, but he shrugged away at hugs and only laughed awkwardly when you told him he was your best friend. He didn't understand that kind of closeness.

You’d learned how deep his discomfort ran through him when the relationship became sexual. His inept understanding of touch translated to violence in the bedroom. Sex was most comfortable for him when he thought of it as a battle. He'd hold you down and force you open. You'd dig teeth into his arms and rip out feathers with your fists. To submit to his pounding was capture, but to overstimulate him until he was too weak to hold you down was victory. Extreme? Perhaps to those who didn’t understand your trust in one another.

He'd at least offer a sappy hello before he pulled his dick out, though. Not tonight. He eyed you as if expecting you to run, as if he'd give chase if you decided to. Fuck, it caused the warmest tingle between your thighs. You’d missed him too badly to try to put up a fight.

He left his jacket abandoned on the floor, which offered a much better view of his slim body wrapped in his black bodysuit. His canines dug into the leather of his glove before he yanked his hand free with his teeth. You laid silent and already breathless. It'd been far too long since you last felt him. Your body was hot with need at the sight of his rigid wings alone. His eyes swept over you as he toyed with the front of his tan jeans. He didn't come very often in uniform. To watch him fondle himself through his costume was- god, was there a stronger word than ecstasy?

“I want you,” he said from your bedside.

"You can have me..." You breathed out. It was intended to sound sultry, but your tone was more akin to a pleading whisper. Your body ached for him before your heart did, after all. Old habits were hard to break.

"You've been waiting for me, like a good girl, haven’t you?" he cooed. Cooed, quite literally. A low and rumbling song reverberated from somewhere deep in his throat. Not a bit of you was avian, but your body reacted instinctively when you heard your mate's call.

"I should reward you."

His visor glinted in the dim light as he pulled it off his face and let it land on the floor. His earmuffs, too.

You bit down your grin as the weight of your mattress shifted under his knee. His ungloved hand neglected the bulge in his jeans to tend to you instead. Warm fingertips slipped beneath your covers and found the skin of your thigh. A small sigh spilled from his lips, and your body trembled.

"You missed my hands on you, didn't you?"

You only managed a nod as his fingers slid up and beneath your pajama top.

Your body sank deeper into your covers when he moved over you. One knee landed on either side of your hips. His bare hand played with your breast while the still gloved one ran through your hair. The leather of the glove was frigid from the cold, but his body radiated warmth. The sweetness of his cologne mingled with the harsh musk of sweat. The smell of him fogged your mind.

The pads of his fingers pinched and tugged at the pink bud he discovered on your chest, which earned him a harsh gasp.

"That's it. I love it when you sing like that," he chimed. His hot breath ghosted over the shell of your ear. Wefts of his hair brushed against your face as his teeth nibbled at your throat. You were trapped beneath the cage his body made. 

"These cute little tits of yours- god."

He wasn't usually so chatty when he was about to mount you, but every grumble that reverberated in his throat added to the tingle between your thighs. He could devour you whole and you would thank him for the honor.

Your hands slid up the sides of his tight bodysuit. The inky black fabric was harsh beneath your fingertips. You traced the patterns of its gold accents around to his back and up towards his wings. He stiffened when he felt you slide nearer to them. Between the plush feathers at the base of a wing, you wiggled a finger until you found the skin beneath. Then you gave the joint a brutal squeeze.

Instinctively, that glorious wing of his outstretched and shivered. The stems of his plumes flexed against your hand as they puffed twice their usual size. The longest of them brushed against the ceiling of your room, dwarfing your bodies beneath it.

You were always in awe of the sheer size and beauty of them.

"F-fuck. Not fair," he growled, and then his teeth sunk hard into your neck in vengeance. The harsh bite only made you desperate for more, so you fisted his feathers in your hand and gave a sharp yank. He gasped a hot breath into the nape of your neck. Fuck. You couldn't take the teasing anymore. 

Your hands relieved him of their cruelty to pull off your shirt. He faltered when your bare breasts were exposed. His golden irises became thin rings as the darkness of his pupils devoured them. The tip of his glistening tongue wetted his lips.

It was your turn to stare with sharp desire as you heard the click of his belt, then the pull of a zipper. You pushed yourself up to get a good view of him working his dick out of his bodysuit. The throbbing muscle hit him in the stomach. The sensation made him hiss between his teeth, and you whimpered in reply. 

"Hhm, you must be really hungry, the way you're staring at it," he mused before he spat into his palm and ran the wetness along the shaft. He quivered at the sensation. You quivered, too.

"Please." Your cheeks were flushed, and your chest quaked with desire. "I want to feel it, please." 

"Oh, don't worry. You’re gonna have all of this. Gotta get that pretty little pussy ready for my cock, though, don't we?" he hummed.

He reached into his plumage and pulled out a long, red feather. The thing wriggled between his pinched fingers as he presented it to you. The way it moved was unnatural, but you timidly took it in your grasp. The look on your face must have been telling of your confusion because he chuckled at your expression. He gave no direction. Instead, he watched with a mischievous curiosity as you turned it in your palm. The barbs vibrated independently of one another against your skin.

Your breath heaved when you realized why he had given it to you. His hands slid down your stomach as a pair of red feathers brushed against your sides. They dipped into the hem of your shorts, then pulled the fabric, sliding them down your legs until you were deprived of them. The cold from the open window seeped into your most sensitive places as his hands caressed your hips.

His fingertips stopped over a series of divots and deformities in your flesh. They were painful mementos of the night you met, and reminders of the sacrifice you had made for him a couple of years prior. He was a stranger when you chose to forgo your own survival to shield him from death. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth as he relived the agony with you, but placed kisses all over the scars. It felt like a plea for forgiveness, so you ran a loving hand through his hair.

A soft sound spilled from him, and then his head dipped down to drink in the sight of your bare body. You were naked beneath your shorts, so he hummed through gritted teeth when he teased your legs apart. He'd seen it all many, many times before, but the sight of your glistening pink sex brought about his cooing again. The sound was a deep and beautiful melody unlike anything you'd ever heard, but also purely sexual. It was his body's call to yours. It beckoned you like a siren.

“No panties, huh?” he murmured. His breath hitched and vibrated with his lustful song. “You’re already so wet, my god… how about you put that feather of mine to use?”

He sat back on his haunches. Those narrow eyes bore holes into your exposed body as he spat another thick glob of saliva onto his palm. His hand found his cock. His eyelids fluttered at the contact and he groaned softly as he pumped around it. His eyes drank your every movement. 

You spread your legs for his gaze and then brought the pulsing feather between your thighs. He could feel through them, in a sense. The thought alone caused you to exhale a soft moan, but it was anything but soft when the vibration teased your sex. He groaned, too, at the contact. 

Your body flexed and wiggled when you pressed it hard against your clit. The sensation made your eyes roll back. Your slickness dampened its vanes despite its semi-hard state, and your hips ground into the pleasure. He observed. His hand pumped faster with each desperate whimper his feather worked out of you. 

It wasn't long before he couldn't take simply watching anymore. 

The roughness of his stubble dragged along your breast as he closed his teeth around one of your pink buds. He suckled, and your fingers tangled in his hair as his feather jolted from your grasp. It worked your clit without your help, and hot air blew from his nose as he jerked himself off. You used the distraction to sneak a hand between your bodies. You wanted the hot skin of his cock against you. You wanted to touch and play; to taste and feel. A thick whimper spilled out of him when you ensnared his throbbing dick in your palm and squeezed.

His feather stopped pleasing you.

"I didn’t give you permission to touch, did I?" His wings flexed. The feathered limbs grew massive as their quills stood on end in a frightening display. They were beautiful and plush, but deadly weapons all the same. “Testing me, huh? You're that desperate for my cock?”

Yes, fuck yes you were. You opened your mouth to reply, but your voice cut out when he grabbed you by the wrist. He jerked your hand away from his sex, and you whined. Usually, you were a bit of a hardass. It wasn’t easy to make you crumble, so he looked so devilishly proud of himself when you’d submit beneath the weight of him.

His teeth bared in a deliciously appealing smirk. "I’m gonna have to do something with these hands of yours if you’re gonna grab at shit without permission, yeah?"

You nodded a little too eagerly. His voice was heavy and deep with a depraved need to dominate you. To sully your skin with his desire. You weren’t going to stop him.

A cluster of feathers gathered in the air around you. You had nothing to fear, but watching them circle like small predators overhead made your heart pound against your ribs like a drum. They swarmed you and ensnared your wrists. The strength of his quirk easily had you overpowered. Your hands slammed into the headboard, pinned down by his feathers which trembled with excitement. You were now at his mercy.

“You’ll get your hands back when you’ve earned them,” he informed you through gritted teeth, but you were so mesmerized by the features of his face you hardly heard his words. Beautiful, that's what he was. You'd never told him how his appearance left you breathless. It could scare him away if you said such sweet things too often, but you’d held your heart back for so long it only felt fair to let it beat this once. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” you whispered.

He trembled. His eyes widened in startled confusion, and then his cheeks dusted the faintest shade of red. God, that only made your heart thump harder. His did, too; you could feel it rattle through his chest and against your stomach.

"What was that?"

You bit your lip, embarrassed, but echoed the statement a bit more sheepishly. "I said… you're gorgeous."

Your mattress groaned as he folded back onto his knees. The flaming red limbs on his back lowered until they rested against your sheets. Something about that sweet little compliment tore into him like nothing you had ever said before. That desire that flickered behind his eyes blazed out of control. His kisses landed on your knees before he placed a gentle caress of his lips on the innermost part of your thigh. So close to your pussy that the heat of his breath made you slick.

His other glove was abandoned somewhere on the floor, which rendered both his hands bare. A low groan spilled from him as he pressed his thumbs into either side of your heat. His jaw went slack and his breath erratic as he spread you open.

"So are you," he said, but it was muttered so softly you almost didn't hear.

His head dipped down. The tendrils that framed his forehead fell over your midriff as his tongue caressed your twitching flesh. The hot, wet muscle lapped hungrily between your folds. It flicked at your clit, and your legs trembled on either side of his head. His mouth working you open like that was enough to fog your mind entirely.

“You like that?” he cooed between the slurps of his mouth against you. "Oh, I bet you fucking do."

You replied with only a strangled whimper as you tugged uselessly at the feathers that bound you. You were desperate to comb your fingers through his downy hair, to fist it in your hands and press his face hard into you. A low chuckle flowed from his open mouth and tickled your flinching flesh. Another cry tore from your throat.

“My poor baby, so desperate,” he sighed after placing a kiss against your clit.

His poor baby. He hummed that phrase with such possessive intensity. He was right. Even if it was unspoken, you and your body belonged to him and him alone.

The warmth of his palms traveled back up your stomach and squeezed your breasts roughly. “Forcing you to wait so long for me, did I neglect my sweet little Chickpea? Hmm, I better make up for it, huh?"

God, the way his husky voice reverberated against your flesh was the most delicious form of torture. You bit your lip and nodded, and he rewarded you with a finger. It slid carefully into you, and his hand caressed your insides. You cried a loud, indecipherable string of mangled words. All grasp on language left you as he curled his fingers up and flicked his wrist.

“Aw, what are you trying to say, Sweetheart?” he huffed. All the little nicknames only pushed you further into your need for him. “You wanna feel my fat cock push into that pretty little pussy?”

A sharp inhale burned your throat.

“P-please!” you choked. Your voice was cracked and pitiful when it finally tore from you, and a wonderfully wonton sound fell from him.

“Please what, huh? Please what?” he gasped.

“Fuck me! I want it- I want your cock- PLEASE.”

“Ohhhhh, that sounds so pretty comin’ outta your mouth,” came his long, low growl. As a reward for your begging, he dragged the wetness of his tongue along the length of your little pink slit.

The rough material of his jeans slid down your inner thighs as he mounted you. The shaft of his hot, bare cock pressed flush against your sex. Clusters of his feathers bunched behind the bends in your knees and forced them back, which splayed you helplessly open. You watched as he bit into his lip and rubbed himself against your wetness. You couldn't look away as the most intimate part of his body sheathed itself in yours. 

The most delicious pressure overwhelmed your aching senses. Fuck. FUCK.  He moved slowly. It may have been meant as mercy, but to your sex-starved body, it felt torturous. The ridges of his dick caught at your swollen walls before the tip of it pressed agonizingly slow into the bottom of you. 

“Hawks! Oh my god, I can’t fucking take this!” your throat jerked and trembled just like your aching thighs. Your hips pumped in desperation for friction where your bodies connected. “Give it to me, give it- I swear to god- FUCK!”

Once you gave him control of your body, he lost control of his own. The mattress groaned when he slammed into you. His teeth dug into your throat, laying his claim on you as he panted for breath. His loose belt buckle beat at your outer thighs, and your bed frame groaned in protest with each merciless thrust. His hands dug into your flesh and locked you into his jarring pumps. He pinned you down as if he expected you to play the fighting game, but you didn't resist his cock this time. You didn't want a battle. You wanted your lover. Your moaning whimpers broke and cracked as his jerking hips rocked the wind from you.

He pounded into you too fast for your mind to keep up. Your scarred body buckled and stung under his animalistic need, but the shockwaves of pleasure that rolled through your core kept you begging him for more. More. More. 

His mind was so fogged that he lost his focus on his feathers. The clusters binding you down came loose without his influence, and you easily pulled out of them to throw your arms around his neck. His wings spread out and bristled until they were pressed against the walls, puffed and massive. His forehead was against yours. His hot breath puffed in your face, and his beautiful body was pleasured with yours. 

"Fuck, fuck! Please- Let me come inside you," he pleaded. His eyes were hazy and fogged, his mouth was slack and face a deep red. His body’s cooing song was so loud you could feel it in your own chest. The familiar smell of his cologne intermingled with the musk of sex and blurred your mind. You wanted every piece of him he'd give you.

"Y-yes, please, please," you begged between the hard smacks of his skin against yours. 

Your eyes shot open as his pace quickened. His wings… they were falling apart. Those beautiful eyes of his lulled further into the back of his head with each bone shivering slap of flesh. His teeth bared and his lips twitched as he pressed your bodies roughly together. Shivers rolled through his muscles, and those fierce wings of his were reduced to twitching little nubs on his back as he came.

You ran your hands between his shoulder blades as you marveled at his feathers. They littered the air as they weaved feverishly around one another. The gentle touch of your hands brought Hawks down from his high, and his feathers slowed until they lazily spun like autumn leaves. You pulled him down into a tight embrace and buried your face into his hair. He heaved into your chest, and you watched all the little pieces of him flutter around your room in the light of the moon.

He often lost control of his wings when you made love. They'd fluff up and flap wildly when he came, which often knocked shelves from your walls and your lamp from your bedside table. That was the first time he shed his feathers, and you were in awe.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His voice was gravely and shuttered between labored breaths.

“Yeah, I’m just... admiring," you said as you stared over his shoulder. He glanced behind him, and his cheeks tinted the faintest shade of pink when he realized the pitiful state of his wings. The little red feathers spread all around your room stilled in the air and swarmed to his back, returning his iconic limbs to their full glory.

“Er, you managed to pluck me. How embarrassing,” he quipped. You were so sore and exhausted from his sex all you could manage was a little laugh. You were a gasping mess, though, when he finally pulled out of you. The loss of pressure was a relief, but it also left you feeling empty. You laid quiet and trembling as he leaned back to marvel over the mess he made of you. His thumbs spread you open again, and he let out a breathless moan as you felt his come leak from you. His head dipped between your thighs. That beautiful tongue of his flicked out and lapped at the mess on your pussy. The warm wriggling of the muscle shocked your swollen clit and made you cry out, but you couldn't bear to ask him to stop. It satisfied something in you to watch as he licked you clean of your slick and his own come.

When he was content that he'd cleaned you thoroughly, he laid his body carefully beside you in your bed. His fingers tangled in your hair as he locked you into a kiss. You could taste the sex he licked from you on his tongue. 

The sex was always feverish and ravishing, but the afterglow was your addiction. In the beginning, it was rare. To kiss and caress crossed the line into his discomfort, but the more he learned to trust you the more of his affection you earned. The man who feared human touch began to ask for hugs every visit. Kisses became frequent and pleasant the more he let you do it. Then came sex that felt less like vicious wars and more like making love. Yes, after everything you did to earn his intimacy, nothing felt as lovely as lying naked beneath his plush plumage. 

His feathers caressed every inch of your aching body. His warm mouth, still wet from the sex, pressed gentle kisses onto your face. Your head rested against his arm as your breath slowly steadied. His wing flexed and rested on your shoulder as if tucking you in beneath a plush comforter.

“Mm. You like that?” he pondered breathlessly. His fingers trailed up your scarred side until they combed through your hair. There was a ginger softness to the touch that made your heart quiver. He smiled at you, those yellow eyes pierced through the dim light and into your soul. as you reached your hand out to run your fingers under his jaw. 

“Do you need to ask?” you hummed. Your cheeks were still red and your chest quaked as you slowly came down from the high. 

He laughed. What a lovely, airy sound. You hummed in the glory of the moment. And, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you could breathe again. Typically, he’d spend his days off kicked back on your living room couch with a tall bottle of something hard in his hand. You’d go a week or so without seeing him when things got tense in the hero world, of course, but in the last two months, you’d had him for only a handful of nights. It was concerning, but you knew better than to ask. No matter how close the two of you had become he would never talk to you about work.

“It's been a while since you last flew in,” you noted as you got comfortable beneath his plumage. His body beside yours was the definition of comfort. Your mind could only be at peace when he was safe in your bed. “It’s nice to see you again, I was worried.”

“I know, it’s been too long. No need to worry, though, Chickpea, I’m right here,” he replied. His slow exhale tangled in your hair, and his hand's gentle touch found your cheek. He offered no explanation for his lengthy absences, but he and his crimson wing caressed you with apologies. 

You relaxed to the sound of his steady breath through the dim blue light of your bedroom. The wing he draped over you was so plush and warm you could easily fall asleep. You might have, if not for the fear of waking up without him. You scooted closer to wind your arms around his chest and bury your face in his neck. 

"I really wish you could stay," you whispered. 

To let your love get in his way was the last thing you wanted, but it was the utterance of a moment of weakness. It was uncharacteristic of you, the pathetic way it sounded, and you felt him stiffen under your arm as he soaked in your request. While there was never a confession of love, you'd tamed the wild bird with years of patience and earnest affection. He was loyal to you. It was cruel of you to ask for something you knew he couldn't give.

“Ah… I would if I could help it, you know that,” he sighed into your forehead, “but I can try to stay until morning.”

“Please. I’d like that.” It came out like the voice of a frightened child, but it was difficult to hide your need for him anymore. 

If you dwelled any further on the possibility of him vanishing, your emotions were going to get the better of you. You played with the feathers draped over your shoulder to calm yourself. A small one by your face was pinched between your fingers as you rolled the barbs around.

"Your wings are filthy," you mused. Dirt particles littered the poor things. You were sure, with some rooting, you'd find a few bugs he’d picked up in the air, too. "Actually, all of you is filthy. You got dirt all in my sheets, bird brain."

"Oh. Shit, my bad," he murmured as he sat upright. You shivered when the warmth of his wing left you.

"Hm, it's fine. Throw your clothes in the wash and I'll get a shower ready for you, sound good?"

“Sounds good.”

The bed creaked in relief when he stood. His frame was slender and small, but his wings at least doubled the weight of him. That was evident with how smothering being beneath him could feel. He kicked off his pants, though his body was still covered by the black and gold bodysuit he wore beneath them. It warmed your heart to see him carry his uniform out of your room and hear him tinker with the washer on the other side of the wall. The sound of the cloth being tossed inside followed by the creak of an opening cabinet seeped through the drywall, followed by the pop of the detergent lid coming off.

He was intimately familiar with your tiny abode. You’d made sure things stayed in the same place so he'd know where everything was the next time he'd visit. You'd been especially anal about it since he'd often be gone for such long periods at a time. When he returned, you wanted your home to feel like it belonged to him, too.

A sensation overcame you as you laid alone in your bed. The sheets were warm from the love you’d just made. Despite his tongue cleaning you off, you could still feel the faint warmth of him inside of you. His contented sigh found you through the wall and your heart burst.

To the rest of the world, he was a hero, but he was so much more to you. You'd give anything to have him completely. For his voice to echo, groggy and sheepish, against your walls every morning. To get to kiss him goodbye before the sun rose, and to welcome him home every afternoon with a warm embrace. For a ring on your finger; a crib in the bedroom. That wasn’t the kind of life that was meant for him, though. As long as he was afraid of you being hurt, those secret nights were all you’d ever have. It made sense. He had enemies, and you could only imagine how your quiet life would turn upside down if you ended up in the pages of a tabloid.

You only spent time together in the privacy of your apartment. Even after two years of being close to him, there was so little you knew about his life separate from you. What little you did know only made you frustrated on his behalf. You held out hope that it could eventually change, for your sake and his.

Preening Hawks was your favorite thing to do with him. There was something special about being across from one another in the shower, naked, warm water rushing over your bodies as your fingers smoothed and placed his dampened feathers. It took the first year of your friendship for him to allow you to touch them at all, so it was an obvious display of his trust in you. Which was understandable. His wings were an integral part of his identity. You watched as he ran his hands over his face and into his hair. His expression was in a relaxed state of bliss as your fingers picked through his plumage.

With his massive wings on either side of you like plush, padded walls, it felt like nothing in the world could get you. His laughter echoed around the small room as he told jokes and stories. It was okay if you didn't have anything to say, or if you just wanted to listen. He would talk for you when you fell short, and that's usually what got you laughing. 

Through the gentle moment, though, you couldn't help but let your emotions get the better of you. During times like those, when his visits were few and far between, your mind danced around the question of why. The possibilities bounced between him either being in danger or losing interest in you. Both were scary thoughts since he had become such an integral part of your life.

"Would you mind if I ask something?" you pondered, which accidentally interrupted a story he'd been telling about an intern of his.

"Depends what it is.”

"Well… there are a million girls out there who'd gladly do this with you," you mused, and it was true, even if it stung a little to remember. "Did you decide to do this with me because it was convenient?" 

That had been your reason, initially. Hawks spent a lot of time hanging around your apartment and he just happened to be wildly attractive. There were no feelings when he’d first asked if he could fuck you. That didn't come until later.

He laughed, and you glared at him.

“Self-doubt, huh? That isn’t like you. Me being away a lot’s really shaken you up, huh?” 

"It's not self-doubt, I'm just genuinely curious," you quipped as you pulled a feather from his wing. They'd moult if they hung around too long, so pulling out the loose ones was a help to him.

"Well… what we have going on is far from convenient," he said. "If that's what I was going for, I'd go after a pro that could keep a secret. It ain't easy to sneak away like this, you know."

So even a pro hero would have to be a secret for him? Did Hawks have any chance at all for a normal life?

“I wanted you, and if I want something, I go for it.”

You swallowed down a breath you’d been holding, but you didn’t say anything else as you watched his eyes dance around the bathroom in thought. 

"And I wanted you because… well, there were a lot of reasons. The night we met was a big one, I guess.”

You looked away. That night felt taboo to mention, considering all the guilt you knew he harbored. Your scars weren’t his fault. Several villains were on a rampage, and your hospital was in the destructive path. You were just another civilian, caught in the crossfire. His feathers tried, but they couldn’t get you out of the building. You’d been partially crushed beneath the rubble. 

“I was sure it was the end of the road for me. It would have been if you and your quirk hadn’t been trapped inside with me. You have a forcefield. You could have used it to protect yourself, but you bubbled me instead. You were gonna die. I was so sure you were gonna die and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.”

Still, your lips wouldn’t move. You’d spent ten months in an ICU after you were crushed beneath the weight of two stories of concrete. If not for the healing quirks of EMTs, you wouldn’t have survived at all. If not for your sacrifice, Hawks wouldn’t have, either. Still, it wasn’t his fault.

 “Still hurts to know I couldn’t help you when you needed me most, but when I looked in your eyes, there wasn't a hint of fear. All I saw was determination. I never met someone who was so sure of their choices, even in the face of death," he recalled. Your emotions skirted between sadness and flattery as you heard his thoughts. If only you could live up to that selfless picture of you, now. “I know a lot of pros who could only hope to have that kind of resolve.”

“Damn, when you tell it you make me sound like a badass,” you quipped, and your laughter bounced around the shower stall.

“I mean, what are the requirements to be donned with the title of badass? I’m sure you’re overqualified. Either that or you’re fucking crazy, which is also a possibility.”

You snorted.

“I'm not crazy. My job is to help people after they've been hurt. If I bubbled you instead, I’d be saving every person you’d live to protect. Before they would need a nurse like me. It’s just what made sense.”

He was silent for a moment as he absorbed your reasoning. You tended to be rational, even in the most emotional of situations. But that borderline-robotic way of thinking was a by-product of your own miseries.

You were a nurse in a world overcome by demigods and treachery. Some of the things you'd seen in the OR would haunt you for the rest of your life. And, sometimes, those ghosts came to torment you in your dreams. That made it hard the first time Hawks slept in your bed. You would sometimes wake with tears in your eyes as your voice quivered out sobs. Your past lovers didn't understand that part of you. The broken part. The part that had been poisoned by the darker side of this superpowered world. 

That's what fostered your love for Hawks. When he had awoken early that morning to you crying beside him, he’d only reacted with a patient embrace. He adored the bright parts of you, but he also had a solemn understanding and respect for your darkness. Having that connection through your mutual suffering was a kind of bond you’d never had before him. And now that you had it, you couldn't imagine life without. 

You went back to preening. You pressed up on your knees to reach a bit higher on his wing, and he watched intently. His voice died into silence as his gaze swept over your naked form, which dripped from the steam of the shower. It wasn't a surprise. Often, he would get lost in himself as he observed you, like a curious bird. It felt like a wordless compliment, so you silently allowed his eyes to explore you. Not that his hands and mouth and cock hadn't already drawn a map of you in his mind.

"Whatcha thinking about?" you teased playfully, and he hummed in response.

"How you look at my wings… I like it."

"Everybody looks at your wings," you said dismissively. A half-smile graced your face.

"You’re right. They do. People admire me because of what they’re capable of. It's what people think of first when they think of me, and rightfully so. They're hard to ignore. But when you look at me, you look at my face first, my wings second. It's like you admire them because they're a part of me, not because of what they can do. I appreciate that." 

Your fingers in said feathers slowed to a stop as he spoke. You smiled a little to yourself as you brushed them against a feather. He shivered. "Your quirk is a part of who you are. That's why I like cleaning them for you. It feels like I get to give you something special, but wings or not, I'd still want you."

Falling in love with Hawks was the best and worst thing you’d ever experienced. The pleasure of those beautiful moments seeped into your soul like a warm cup of tea. But the anguish that followed after he flew out your window… there wasn't a simile that could correctly describe the immeasurable pain. 

Your response must have triggered a long series of difficult thoughts for the bird. His head tilted slightly, his eyes hardened in expression and his brows furrowed as he soaked in your confession.

"In the year we've been doing this… has there ever been another man?" he pondered. The question jarred you. Occasionally, he'd get a touch possessive of his time with you. He’d asked a time or two who you were texting. You knew him well enough to pick up the hint of jealousy despite his light tone, but he never asked anything so outright.

“Well, look who's got self-doubt now. You sure are eager for a lot of questions and confessions tonight. What’s gotten into you?” you asked.

He shrugged. “You asked a question, so it's my turn now. Besides, we’ve been close for a couple of years. We've been intimate for half of that. just seems a little silly to keep up the fuck buddies act. Or is it just me?”

Fuck buddies act? You bit your lip. Hard. When he was with you he was so relaxed. This seriousness was unusual, and it made your wet skin rough with goosebumps.

"It's not just you," you confessed. 

For a short while, the bathroom was filled with only the sound of the running shower as you collected your confession. 

"There hasn't been another man since you. I mean… I've gone on dates a few times, but it never got that far," you replied. The moment another man kissed you… Well, kisses felt dirty if they were with anyone other than Hawks. "I know this thing you and I have going on was meant to be a no strings attached kind of affair, but… Well, if I’m being honest with you, it feels wrong trying to sleep with anyone but you. I like what we have, and I've always got the impression that you really do, too."

He didn't say anything. You weren't sure whether or not that was what he wanted to hear.

"Have you?" you asked. "Been with anyone else?"

You’d never asked before. At first, it was because it didn't feel like your business. Then, when the thought eventually made your heart ache, you didn't ask because you didn't want to know. But now that you had come clean, it only felt fair that he did, too.

Air left his nose and his head bobbed back until his wet hair pressed against the shower stall.

"Once,” he confessed, and he sounded ashamed now that he knew you never did. “I used to have this on again, off again thing, before I knew you. I messed with her a few weeks after you and I first… well, you know. But only once, then never again.”

You’d thought it would crush you to learn he’d been with someone else, but it didn’t sting like you thought it would. Probably because you didn't know specifics. If you knew what woman had her hands on him, if you could see it, it probably would destroy you. But the apologetic way he said it put your heart at ease. He mumbled like he knew it would hurt you, and he didn’t want it to. But you weren’t wounded, and your feelings weren’t perturbed. He never promised you anything, just as you’d never made promises to him.

“Why’d you stop seeing her?” you asked as you scooted closer to smooth shampoo suds down in his hair. He only shrugged at first, then sighed in contemplation when your fingers combed along his scalp.

“I’ve never had a place I could go to, you know?” he said. “I’ve never had somewhere like this, where I can lay my head for a little while and just be…”

“Pampered?” you suggested as your hands moved to massage his shoulder blades between his wings.

He breathed out a little laugh, but shook his head. “Yeah, but that’s not what I was thinkin’.”

“Out with it then,” you teased.

“Well… I’ve never had somewhere I’ve felt safe and... cared about?” he said, though his eyes were distant and lost when he said it, as if he wasn’t sure he should have.

“I gotta always be looking over my shoulder. Gotta always have a mask on and hope no one ever sees through it. But here, everything’s relaxed. You couldn’t care less what my ranking on some chart is or how much money is in my pocket. You don't give a shit about heroing or the tabloids. You’re the only person in my life who asks for nothing other than my company. I feel human here. I didn’t want to jeopardize that, or what I had with you. That’s why I stopped seeing her.”

Your mouth went dry. While your nights were long and passionate, you’d never whispered sweet nothings. You’d never told him how much he and his company meant to you because you felt he wouldn’t want to hear it, but he kept coming back. For a year he had clung wordlessly to what little affection you gave him. If he’d told you this a year prior, you would have given him so much more love.

“So you do have deeper feelings for me. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He was silent, as you’d expected him to be. He both craved and feared the closeness he’d formed with you. At times he’d drown you in sweet little bits of affection, but, when things got too deep, he would shut down. Through the last couple of years, you’d broken through a lot of his walls, but the cold influence of the commission would always be with him. Even if he was in love with you, he’d never understand how to tell you.

"Because of who I am when I fly out your window,” he began. The reverb of his voice against the shower stall took you off guard. You didn’t expect him to answer. "There are things I know you want from me… things that I can’t give you right now, and you deserve more than that. That’s why I never planned on telling you… Fuck. It was never supposed to be like this…”

He spoke more to himself than he did to you at that moment. There was an internal battle going on in his mind; one you'd never really be able to understand, but you wanted to try. 

"You mean you never meant to get attached?"

His silence was telling.

"It's okay," you said. "We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to." You took a hold of his hand, but he flinched away from you. He was regressing back into old habits. It had been months since he’d last recoiled to your affection. Something was terribly wrong. The recoil was fine. It was okay. Whatever he needed to feel comfortable. "I'm sorry-" 

"No, I'm sorry," he interrupted. He rubbed the wrist you had touched as if you'd burned him. His brow was knit and his mouth became a harsh line. "Sometimes it feels easy and other times it doesn't, but I'm trying."

"I know you are. Like I said, we don't have to talk about feelings." 

He stared at you, and the longer his gaze rested on your face, the softer it became, "I want to try." 

You nodded and wrapped your arms around your naked knees. The shower had been turned off long ago by a cluster of his feathers, but the soothing steam still lingered around you. 

“It's just… this is difficult. One day someone may shoot me out of the sky. The thought of you still being right here, waiting for me, when I can never come back… It... kills me." He paused, his eyes hazed over as he swallowed his emotion down. The rawness in his voice struck such an unpleasant chord that your own eyes pricked with bitter water. "That's why I didn’t want attachments like this. But I didn't mean for all this between you and me. You snuck into me slowly, I didn't even notice until it was too late."

"Is this supposed to be flattering? It sounds like you're likening me to a parasite or something- heartworm," you quipped in an effort to dispel the heavy tension. He smiled, but only for a moment before he rolled his eyes at you. 

"Just… listen to me," he said, and your eyes trained on his as your mouth closed. "If that ever happens… If there comes a day you've been waiting for me, only to find out I'm never coming back, please know that I cared for you."

He didn't use the word love, but that's very much what he was trying to convey. In a way, you’d kind of always knew. It was why he’d said it, how he’d said it, that made your eyes prick with tears at their corners. The thought of what he was implying petrified you. Hawks was so skilled, so powerful, so almighty. Despite all his power, though, he was human, just like you. The night you’d met proved how possible death was for him. Nothing could keep him safe forever, not even your forcefields.

But he’d never talked like this before. He was always so light-hearted and relaxed. His work and the dangers associated with it was off the menu of conversion topics. What had happened to bring all this darkness up now?

"You talk like you’re preparing for death." 

Again, he didn’t reply. His silence was more terrifying than anything he could have said, but trying to pry him open would only break him, it seemed. So you didn’t.

“May I kiss you?” you asked instead. 

He nodded.

You leaned forward and breathed into his ear. He shivered when you placed a gentle kiss on the shell of it. His earring pressed against your lip was a gentle and familiar feeling, but after you heard all he had to say it also felt fleeting. He always had some ulterior motive or hidden reason for every little thing he did. It's as if he said all this because tomorrow would be the day he was gone.

“I’m not preparing to die.” Your kiss gave him the courage to speak. "I have too much to live for. It’s just always a possibility- for anybody, really. But heroes especially. I just wanted it off my chest is all."

He smiled at you, but you’d seen every smile in his repertoire, and this one was faker than your stick-on-backsplash. The air never felt so tense between you. Not even the night you met, dying feet away from each other. It all felt so… heavy. The weight of it pressed hard into your chest.

“Er, this reminds me, while we're on topic, I got some things going on at the agency. I hate to say it, but you won't see me again for a little while. I don’t know how long. It could be a couple of months.” His disposition remained fake casual. His shoulders and face were relaxed as he enjoyed the steam of the shower, but his wings tensed. You felt it in your palms as you preened him.

"You're in trouble," you said. Your mouth went dry as the realization drained the color from your face. 

"Trouble? Me? Nah. Just work stuff."

He spoke with a relaxed air about him, but he couldn’t lie to you. 

"No. You've been acting off all night. You’ve been making all these confessions. Talking about death, telling me you're going away for a while. I know you better than you think I do; something big happened and you're trying to tie up loose ends in case you don't get out of it okay," you rambled, and the more you talked the higher your voice became. It trembled and wavered with building fear. 

He stared at you. That silly face of his melted into a thin line and sharp, angular eyes. Those tricks worked when no one was close enough to see through them, but you knew his genuine smile like the back of your hand. You saw right through his facade, and he was annoyed by the very determination he just prided you for. 

"Can't get anything past you, can I?" 

You didn't whimper, but your eyes became glossy with emotion. It was a strange mixture of panic, sorrow, and rage. You had no idea what he'd gotten into, but you also knew he would never tell. He placed preserving missions above all else, which made sense but was frustrating.

"I don't know what's going on, but you need to get out of it if you're thinking it's something you may not come back from." 

"Things aren't that simple. I chose this life, I gotta follow through."

"No, I chose to be a nurse when I was sixteen and understood the implications of what I'd have to go through. You were fucking six when the commission took you, and they spent all that time gaslighting and taking advantage of you-"

"We aren’t talking about that right now, don't use it against me.” 

"Use it- what? I'm not using anything against you! You’re the one alluding to death! There’s nothing wrong at the agency, there’s something else- something terrible-" 

"Drop it.”

“How can I?!”

"Because I said so." His eyes were narrow and mouth a tight, thin line. You could read him so well. He was regretting this. All of this, because now you were onto whatever suicide mission he was embarking on. But, as his lover, how could you just sit back and silently watch him throw himself into a danger that had even him shaken?

You got louder, and he got louder. You tossed bitter, confused words back and forth until he was screaming. Until you were screaming back at him. Your calm, laid back demeanor slipped through your fingers the moment you realized he could be in over his head. That, if you let him leave, this could be the last night you’d ever spend with him. Your anger was driven by your fear for his life, and his was driven by your inability to let it go. 

He was still screaming. You were still screaming. You were fighting him. He just told you you were the most important person in his life, and you were spitting venom. 

You stopped.

He stopped.

Your hand came to your bare chest as it heaved in an attempt to steady your breath. The other came up to wipe the tears budding in your eyes. He looked away from you, his brow tugged heavily downward, his jaw clenched together in shame.

"Let’s just breathe, okay?" you pleaded.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," you whimpered into your hand. "Out of everyone in the world, you're the last who needs to say sorry, so don't. It's just- it's not right, okay? You're too… I don't know, selfless? I watch all the time as that gets taken advantage of. Doesn’t it get tiring? Even your name is some dirty secret. I've been sleeping with you for a year and I don't even know what it is-"

"Yes, you do," he argued, his lip wavered with weakness for one vulnerable moment. "You know me- you know my name."

Desperation laced between his words and strung the sentence together. It wasn't easy to see your lover look at you that way, just begging for you to let pieces of him go. It was hard to accept it, but whatever name he went by prior to heroism didn't exist anymore. Neither did the once innocent child it belonged to. You tried to respect that, but it was unfair he was denied a basic human right: to have a name. 

"You're Hawks, I know, I'm sorry… it's just… how much is left of yourself that actually belongs to you? How long until there’s nothing left to give? People have taken so much from you that you’ve become numb to it; do you even know what you're missing out on? Do you even know how lonely you are? When’s the last time anybody even asked if you were okay?"

He realized, then, that you weren't angry at him.

You were angry for him.

His eyes shifted to yours, and he nibbled at his bottom lip before he muttered with the quirk of his mouth: “Well, you ask me that pretty much every time you see me.”

There it was. The crack in your voice. The crinkle of your nose and the tremble of your lip. You cried, and he sat there across from you, still bare as his wings lowered to either side of you. His expression didn't change, and, for once, you couldn't read it. You didn't want to be so upset, but knowing he was in some kind of dangerous trouble that shook even him was too much for you to bear.

"I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. It’s just… Do you have any idea how many heroes I've wheeled into the morgue? People die on my table all of the time. Every time is just as hard as the last, but the heroes- those are the ones that destroy me. Because every time someone in a cape lands on the table I know their families are waiting for them at home, just like I wait here for you.

"I saved you once, but you're so far away from me, too far for my forcefields to reach you. Hearing you say you’re going away- all I can think of is coming into work one day and finding you c-... covered in a sheet."

His wings moved up from the shower floor. The feathers were dark with dampness as their joints pressed into your back. You sat there like that as he let you cry. Really, what else could he have done? What else could you have done? Of course you were angry. You would be for the rest of your life over how his panned out. His childhood was taken from him, his understanding of human affection was still stunted, even after all the time you spent gently undoing what damage had been done. Now he talked like one wrong move would end it all.

"It's… difficult," he began, though he couldn't make eye contact with you. He usually couldn't when you had discussions like this. "Being a hero isn’t what I imagined I would be when I was a kid. And sometimes I do ask myself: 'what is this all for? There's always going to be a new bad guy. Why does it matter?' And then I think about you…" 

He went silent for a moment; you could see the little battle behind his eyes. The battle between his affection deprived confusion and his need to be closer to you. To explain himself. 

"I think about you and it reminds me there are good people who are worth fighting for. As long as you are here and there are bad people out there that could hurt you, I have to be out there, too. And, yeah, sometimes I get afraid. But as long as I have these wings, I'm going to use them to keep this world safe for you."

He’d never felt so close to you, and yet so far away. He thought even more of you than you anticipated. A part of you felt touched you'd become a cornerstone for his sanity in such a hostile world, but the other part felt sick. If he wanted to fight for you, that was fine.

But to die for you; that would be unforgivable.

The urge to argue the worth of his life weighed heavy on your heart. If you did, he would call you hypocritical, considering your own history of self-sacrifice. It wasn’t the same, though. His self-worth depended on his usefulness to others and little else, and you feared the day that usefulness ran out. What would Hawks be, if not a hero? It should have such a simple answer, like what you would be if not a nurse. But it didn't. It never would.

You leaned forward to pull him into a tight hug. Perhaps when he was anywhere else you were unable to protect him, but right there, in your arms, you'd use whatever you could to keep him safe. Your bubbles, your kind words, anything. 

"I understand," you said, because you knew there were no words that could keep him away from the hero path. It wasn't just a part of his identity; it was all he'd ever known. "Just… don't forget when the heroing is said and done, you'll always have a place here if you need it."

He hummed a small, contented coo at your kindness. Of course, you didn't have to tell him that. He already knew. Why else would he spend so much of his precious little free time cuddled up to you? 

"I'll remember," he promised as his arms and damp wings curled in to squeeze you against him. 

You and Hawks bathed in the comforting darkness of your bedroom. Your window was frosted from the bitter cold outside, but his body heat kept you warm in the safety of your bed. Or nest, rather, as Hawks tended to construct mounds of tangled comforters and wadded up bedsheets to hide in as he got comfortable. You were buried beneath the mass of cloth and the cocoon of his wings as you tried to fall asleep. It was a difficult undertaking since you didn’t know when you’d see him again. You were so tired, but you wanted to be awake to hold him for what little time you had left. 

You wouldn’t have gotten any sleep, anyway.

Often when Hawks slept in your bed you'd awaken at strange hours. Sometimes this was due to your own nightmares. The subject bounced between the traumatic things you’d seen at the hospital and the night you’d met. You'd wake to find that you’d encased your bed in your protective bubble during your sleep, and Hawks' wings squeezed you gently against his chest. Other nights, it was Hawks' anxiety that would keep you awake.

During the day, his guard was discreetly up. He carried carefree conversations as if unbothered, but those well-trained feathers of his were on constant guard. Really, he never had a moment to breathe. This was something you never would have understood the depths of if you weren't woken by his anxiety in the midst of the night. The anxiety he kept bottled during the day often let itself out in the form of night terrors. He'd mumble. Roll. His wings would twitch over you. His face would morph into an agonized expression, and he chirped in distress. A good, gentle shake was usually all it took to pull him out of the bad dream. 

That night his nerves reared their head, though in an unorthodox way. Apparently, you did fall asleep, because you awoke with a small grumble when you felt the mattress groan, followed by a heavy weight draping over your body. You let out a long whine of displeasure, but the weight just got heavier. You turned your head and opened your eyes to find Hawks, but he wasn't gasping in his sleep. He laid over you, wings puffed but flat on either side of your bed as he stared at the bedroom door.

"Hawks? You're squishing me." 

He didn't answer or turn to look at you. Those sharp eyes of his danced around in panic, his feathers raised as they sensed every small movement in your apartment. You dropped your head back onto your pillow with a sigh. 

"What's the matter?" you pondered.

"Shh," he hummed. "I felt something…"

You laid and listened for a short while, but all you could hear was the lady in the apartment above you walking across her floor.

"It's my neighbor."

"What if it's not?" 

Whether the display was the primal instruction from the bird in him to protect his mate or if it was a by-product of the harsh reality of the life he lived, you weren't sure. Either way, his calm and almost lazy facade cracked. When the world was quiet and his feathers could sense every mundane movement in your apartment, his anxiety that those small bumps in the night might be something that could hurt you overwhelmed him.

The little display was an annoyance to your sleep-deprived brain, but his first thought in the midst of his worry was to protect you. That spared him from your groggy wrath. 

"Lay down, McNugget. There's no one there," you grumbled, but he didn't turn his head away from the door. 

Feeling your hand on his face seemed to snap him back into the moment, even if just a little. He leaned into you and encased you in his wings. It felt like a protective gesture, but the warmth you found beneath them made you hum pleasantly. The fluffy white cloth of his hoodie rubbed your cheeks as he cuddled into you. Well, actually, it was your hoodie. 

At one time it was just some old thing you'd snagged from a thrift store on a chilly day. It was much too large for you, though. When Hawks came into your life later on, you'd cut holes out of the back and hemmed it up. That way he'd have a little something to throw on when it got chilly at your place. He never said it out loud, but he loved the thing. He'd go looking for it if you didn't leave it laying out in the living room. 

"I know you usually have a lot to be afraid of, but you don't have to worry about protecting me. I'm a badass, remember?" you whispered into the shell of his ear. His shoulders relaxed just a bit, and he puffed out a little chuckle. 

"Yeah, I know. I just… I want you to be safe. That's all." 

Your gaze softened, though he couldn't see it in the darkness. You didn't need Hawks to protect you. You didn't need a hero. You needed a best friend; a lover. Between the both of you, he was the one in most need of saving.

"Shh," you hummed gently. Your hair lifted from your pillow and danced slowly around your face as if gravity was lost to you. He scrunched his nose as your locks brushed his cheeks, and his wings settled flat as a ring rose from the floor around your bed. The translucent wall came together above your bodies to form a hard, bubble shell.

"You've been the hero long enough. Let me be the protector tonight,” you said. His throat bobbed against your shoulder as his arms wound around you. He settled, but you still felt his unease.

“What’s got your feathers ruffled?”

“You shouldn’t have to protect me,” he said. His voice was muffled since his mouth was pressed into your skin, but you still heard the sadness in it. “I should be taking care of you.”

You blinked as you soaked in his words. For a year you pined for such romantic things to come out of his mouth. Of course he’d wait for a night like that night to say such sickeningly sweet things. The future that used to feel so full of mystery and excitement had become dangerous, uncertain, and disappointing.

“You don’t have to be the hero every time,” you replied.

“But if I’m not a hero, what am I?”

His question was an echo of your fears. The ambient light from your window filtered dimly into your forcefield, but your eyes couldn’t adjust with tears in them.

“I don't know if I have the answer you're looking for, but... Do you remember when I was in the hospital?" you asked. "When you first came to see me you brought a twenty-piece box of chicken nuggets, and while I was trying to eat one you laughed until you were crying because it looked vaguely like a penis.”

“Vaguely? It had balls and everything,” he recalled, and you rolled your watering eyes.

“Whatever. It was stupid, but it was the first time I laughed since I was trapped in that hospital. And, well… when they said I’d never walk again you helped me out of bed. I cried myself to sleep some nights, but you were there, still trying to save me. You were trying to be a hero then, too, but you became my best friend. If nothing else, that's what you’ll always be to me.”

A sound came out of him akin to laughter. You shot him a look, then hooked your finger under his chin. You wanted to see his dumb grin when you berated him for poking fun at you. When his eyes met yours, though, they weren’t crinkled with laughter. They were red and watering.

“Oh, Hawks,” you breathed, and he tucked his face back into your arm to hide his vulnerability. He never cried before. At least not in front of you. He was always the immovable one, virtuous and strong. Moments like this reminded you just how human he was beneath it all.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you,” you assured him in a whisper. Gentle promises spilled from your lips like lullabies, and he clung to every word with heart-breaking desperation. You whispered every sweet nothing you could think of to ease his pain, but you didn’t have that kind of power. 

You had no power at all.

His world always seemed scary to you. You feared for his life every day, but the thought of him being ripped from your arms overwhelmed you that night more than it ever had before. The protective bubble that encased your bed would keep him safe for as long as you could fight sleep, but what of the morning? You’d be safe at home, and he’d be lost somewhere in the dangerous fray of his duties. Far away from your warmth and the apartment he found so much comfort in. 

This would not be the last time you held him. You had to believe that, but what if it was? What if this sleepless night was your last together? 

Tell him you love him, you thought to yourself. Tell him before you never get the chance again. 

You bit your lip as you felt his trembling breaths on your collar. You prepared your lips for the taste of the confession, but he was so vulnerable, more so than he may have ever been before. He didn’t need you to tell him about your affections, he needed you to use them.

You placed a reassuring crown of kisses along his forehead, and he gripped you so hard his knuckles were surely white. 

When you’d cried as a child, your mother would lay in your bed and sing lullabies until you fell asleep. Your voice was untrained and awkward compared to hers, but you tried your best to use it. Your off-key tune echoed back to you in the dome of your forcefield, and your cheeks pinkened with how childlike it sounded. Your embarrassment interrupted your lullaby. He stirred against your chest.

“Don’t stop,” he said. “Please, sing to me.”

You cleared your throat as you gathered the courage to start again. His eyes fell closed as your song settled into the safety of your shield. His feathers relaxed, and his face went slack as sleep slowly overtook him. You sang until his tears stopped flowing. You sang until he was asleep in your arms. For as long as you could, you laid awake. If you succumbed to sleep, so would your forcefield. So would your promise to keep him protected through the night. As time moved slowly forward, sleep inevitably began to settle into you, too. It was as terrifying and as peaceful as death.

“I love you,” you whimpered as you felt your eyes grow too heavy to fight back open. “Please… stay safe.”

Credits: 

A massive thank you to my wonderful friend and editor, @fuwafuwagem​! If you thought the fic looked especially polished, it’s thanks to her efforts!

Also a big thank you to my buddies and beta readers: @dendriticheep​ and @narcolepticroses​! Thanks you guys for being such sweet friends to me ;u;

And a huge thanks to YOU, for reading !

Authors Note:

I’d love to do a lot more fanfictions like these! If you have any suggestions or requests for animations or animated stories like this one feel free to submit it to me!

[vlion]

hii!! this is my first time requesting ANYTHING on Tumblr ever since I try not to pester people with my ideas but I saw that you take writing requests and since I'm in a bit of a writing block, do u mind if u could write something like"viago x chubby reader" or some shit like that plzz since I'm somewhat chubby in my opinion and I need some comfort but if u cant I completely fucking understand

A Night in Wellington (Viago/Gender-Neutral Reader)

Author’s Note: I am so freaking sorry this took me so long to get to, but it was super fun to write for Viago for the first time. I also tried to keep the reader as ambiguous as possible in this for anyone to enjoy!

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41188905

Content Warnings/General Themes: Gender-Neutral Reader: no explicitly gendered pronouns/pet names used, fluff, slight hurt/comfort mentions of insecurity about appearance/mental health, mentions of blood/biting, reader is human, Viago is a simp, Viago is a little fruity (lol), very light swearing

Rating: All Audiences

Word Count: 2,530

You sighed and sat down on your bed in defeat. Nothing was going right.

The past few weeks had been stressful, to say the least. Your schedule was crammed and you had barely allocated any time for relaxation or recreation. Oh, and not to mention, due to the demands the world required of you during the day, you hadn’t seen your–undead–boyfriend in almost a week.

Actually that wasn’t entirely true; you had technically seen him each day, meeting him for a quick kiss or cuddle as he woke up while you got ready for bed–a poetic paradox that constantly seems to only work against the two of you. Viago has always been respectful of your sleep schedule (or more often, the lack thereof), constantly reassuring you that you were never expected to drop your routine for him. Still, navigating the ins and outs of daily life while trying to correlate your human schedule with your night-dwelling boyfriend kinda sucked; literally, at times.

Tonight, however, was supposed to be perfect. Somehow, the stars had aligned, and you were able to spend the day night with Viago. You planned to join him and your other housemates on a night out, parading around Wellington on the arm of the person you loved. You had even slept through the majority of the day in order to stay up all night as your flatmates had been doing for centuries.

Now, however, as you put on the outfit you picked out and looked at yourself in the mirror, you were having second thoughts. The material was drawn too taught in some areas, too loose in others, and suddenly all of the work you had put in to look presentable felt pointless.

You anxiously glanced outside to notice that dusk had just started to set in, so the boys were due to wake up soon. Peering into the hall from your room, no clear evidence of movement or sound indicated that anyone was awake, so you retracted back into your room and settled back into your state of contemplation. You could’ve sworn you heard the distinct flapping of wings as you shut the door, but blamed it on your heightened sense of uneasiness.

Should’ve gone with the other one, you silently reprimanded yourself, adjusting certain areas to see if you could make the outfit more flattering. After all, you were going out with Viago tonight, who always looked dashing to say the least. Just don’t wanna let him down, is all.

Still peering in the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel something cold sliding down your waist. Your eyes followed the curve of your hips and waist in the mirror and were met with nothing but the reflection of yourself, but it wasn’t until you looked down at your body when you realized Viago’s hands were the culprit. Stupid vampires and their lack of a reflection.

“Surprise!” Viago said, with a toothy grin, his smile widening further as you turned to face him. You flashed him a forced smile in return, which he instantly picked up on.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He asked, his grin fading as he watched you remove yourself from him and sink down onto the end of your bed.

When you didn’t reply and looked down at your lap, Viago crossed the room himself and kneeled before you.

“Darling, tell me what’s wrong. I saw you looking in the mirror, and at first I was offended because that’s like one of the few things vampires get insecure about…” He trailed off as he realized he was rambling and received a quizzical look from you.

“But,” he started again, “I realized if you were not looking at me…”

You glanced down at your lap once more before speaking in a whisper. “I was looking at myself.”

Viago nodded while reaching a hand out to stroke your cheek gently, turning your head towards him in the process. He looked as though he wanted to question you further, to figure out the root of what was bothering you, but as you leaned into his touch, he decided against it. He’s been through these moments with you before, and you had warned him these various bouts of emotion came as a package deal when he agreed to a relationship with you. Still, though, this never made feeling insecure or upset any easier. If anything, knowing that someone else who is as selfless and devoted as Viago is involved in your drama made the feelings worse at times. I just don’t want to feel like a burden.

“You know, Y/N, you are not and never have been a burden, not to any of us” he said, as you slightly widened your eyes in surprise at his ability to read your mind. He didn’t read your’s, or really anyone’s mind often, as it wasn’t something he was particularly good at. He usually reserved it for use as a party trick or for emergencies–yet both options seemed unfit for the current moment.

He slid his hand down your cheek to your shoulder, slowly stroking to ease some of the tension that had built up and crescendoed to the state you found yourself in tonight. You relaxed into his touch as you had done before, allowing him to take care of you. Still, though, you couldn’t help but feel bad for somehow making this big bad vampire cater to your needs and wants. He was supposed to be out terrorizing people; hell, he killed people to stay alive! Yet here he was massaging your shoulders…

You could feel your eyes watering as you spiraled, realizing how fortunate you were to have Viago in your life, regardless of all the chaos it often brought you. “V-Vi?” You asked, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, trying to ensure that any touching up you did to them to get ready stayed in place.

“Yes, my love?” He responded, his eyes searching yours, anxious to hear what you had to say.

You took a deep breath before speaking your thoughts. “I just…I don’t feel the best about myself tonight. Well, actually, most nights recently. And days. And I know you don’t care-”

He gripped one of your hands with his own as he interjected. “Of course I care,” he began, using his free hand to tuck some loose hair behind your ear. “I know it’s like the most cliché thing I could say, but liebchen, you’re the greatest thing that’s happened to me in centuries.”

You nearly rolled your eyes at his statement, but instead smiled at the meaning it held. “Considering only a handful of people can even say they’ve lived for centuries, I think there’s cheesier things you could’ve said.”

Viago’s smile widened, his fangs adorning his lower lip, happy to see your lifted mood. “Yeah, like what?” He asked.

You could feel the tension within yourself diminish as you curled your index fingers and brought them to either side of your lips. “I want to suck your blood!” You said, your accent mimicking a more extreme, dracula-esque version of his. Viago looked as though he was both offended but also glad that you felt confident enough to mock him, and you felt yourself smiling at his ability to cheer you up so easily.

You used your newfound tranquility to glance once more in the mirror, standing up from the bed and walking towards it as you followed the shape of your body. You felt Viago’s hands on your hips, but this time just in passing, as he placed himself between you and the mirror and began removing his overcoat.

You raised your eyebrows at his actions. “Woah, woah, woah, Vi! Are you trying to distract me from how I feel with your powers of seduction or something?!”

Viago chuckled at that, placing his hands on his hips. “As good as you look, darling, and as interesting as that sounds…” he began, moving to place his overcoat over the mirror, covering the glass. “That’s not what I was intending…at the moment. Unless…”

You rolled your eyes at his proposition, closing the space between each of you. You reached up to run your fingers through his hair, admiring the soft sensation under your fingertips. As your hands reach the nape of his neck, you interlock your hands, drawing his attention to your face in front of him. You glanced into his eyes as you spoke, “Vi, do you really think I look good tonight?”

He nodded as though it was obvious, but raised an eyebrow and cradled your chin with one of his hands when he was met with a look of uncertainty from you. “I know what you’re doing, liebling.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” You asked, removing your hands from his neck and tracing them down his chest, resting them on his pecs.

He followed the movement of your hands as he replied. “If I say you look good, you’ll convince yourself not to believe me. And if I say you don’t, which is literally never the truth, ever–”

“Then I will beat your eternal ass.” You laughed, astounded at how easily he could draw you from your dismissive thoughts.

He removed your hands from his chest and held them in his own, drawing circles on them with his thumbs. He leaned in close to reply, knowing you love the sensation, as he spoke. “I’d love to see you try.”

You pulled back, feigning offense, and raising your fists in a faux fighting pose. “Let’s go, you and me, right now,” you said, oblivious to the ironic fact that you just challenged a vampire to a round of hand-to-hand combat.

Viago laughed at your actions and nearly moved to join in on your little charade, but played dumb instead. “Go where? On a date?”

You mentally scolded yourself for teaching him basic rules of sarcasm and modern dialect. His joking inquiry, however, reminded you of the current situation you were in. “Yeah, shit…speaking of that, shouldn’t we be on our way out by now?”

This time, it was Viago’s turn to feign offense before speaking; complete with a dramatic hand over his chest. “What, you don’t want to be fashionably late? It’s like…one of the best things about me being a vampire–we’ve got literally all the time in the world for these types of things.”

You smiled at his proposition. “If you say so, but seeing as you just took off your coolest accessory, I don’t know about the whole ‘fashionable’ part…”

“What do you mean? You’re my coolest accessory,” he said, before his face dropped at how strange that sounded out of context. “Uhh, in a totally non-creepy and 100% fueled by my undying passion and love for you type of way.”

You crossed your arms and shook your head. “You’re killing me, Vi.”

“Well, you’re technically the only one here who even has the ability to be killed, so-”

You grinned throughout his reasoning and then cut him off with a kiss. His lips were cold, like normal–a feeling you had come to love. He moved to deepen the kiss, leaning down and gripping your waist to steady you as you moved against each other. Viago’s kisses were never short of phenomenal; the man literally had hundreds of years to perfect his craft. The coldness of his lips and touch contrasted perfectly with the fire and warmth he so often fueled inside of you.

As you began to get lost in the moment, a bite to your lip brought you back to reality. You pulled back, at first offended, but when you felt the familiar sensation of blood rushing to the location, and Viago’s fixated stare at your lip, you went in for another kiss. This time, however, Viago honed in on the spot where he previously broke skin, and when he pulled back you watched as a drop of your blood dripped down his chin.

Damn, you shouldn't have thought that was hot.

No, like, you really shouldn’t have, cause Viago could literally read your mind. And judging by the way he made a show out of the way he slyly wiped the crimson liquid off his chin, only to bring his fingers up to his lips for a taste, he definitely just did.

You crossed your arms again, with a pout. “That’s not fair!”

Viago shot you a confused look, and removed his–now clean–fingers from his mouth, wiping them on his coat that was still covering the mirror. “What? I thought you liked it when I did that…”

You raised a hand to your forehead in defeat at his lack of knowledge in the realm of human social cues, and sighed. “It wasn’t that Vi! I was just going to say that it’s not fair you get to fuel my fantasies with all your, uhhh…” You paused to search for a better word than what came to mind but decided against it when nothing else felt right, “...vampire-ness, and I can never seem to do the same for you.”

Viago started laughing in a way you had never seen before; like a full on maniacal, if you didn’t know this man you would run for the hills, type of laugh.

“What’s so funny, Mr. Cullen?” You asked him, confident that your jab would snap him out of his fit of laughter.

It certainly snapped him out of it, but of course he had something witty to say in response. “Wait, did you say, uh, Mr. Cullen? As in like the dad from those movies? Darling, I am not offended in the slightest cause, oh, that man-”

You swayed on your feet as you attempted to ground yourself in the current moment, anxious to hear how tonight would pan out. “Viago, my darling, I really do not need to know about your Carlisle Cullen fantasies right now; that is a topic for another time.” He wiggled his eyebrows at your interest, before you continued. “I just need to know if we are going to this thing or not.”

He noticed the anxiousness in your tone and reached a comforting hand out to rest on your arm. “Yeah, of course! I’ve been looking forward to it for a while now. The others are already waiting outside.”

“Really? I mean, we shouldn’t let them wait much longer then, huh?” You said, handing Viago his overcoat.

He gladly accepted it, pulling it around his form. “Oh and in case you didn’t gather this from literally this entire conversation…” He paused briefly to secure his arm around your waist, before continuing. “You look absolutely amazing tonight, and you fuel all my fantasies.” He then leaned down once more, and with a wink he said, “and then some.”

You glanced over your shoulder at the uncovered mirror, seeing now how wonderful the two of you look together. “You know what? After all that, I think I’m going to have to say I agree with you.”

“Glad you can finally see where I’m coming from, my love.” He said, with a kiss to the temple as you hurried out the door.