#eagerly looking forward to drawing them all of his waking day until he can sit down and draw them until he goes to bed)

[lycanlovebites]

WMOM as Twitter and tumblr posts aka sketch page of me giving Victor the world’s saddest wettest pathetic baby seal eyes. Also having fun with drawing Alistair! here’s a bonus unfinished little doodle of him (where people are trying to raze his manor down) bc he’s my babygirl (he is thousands of years old and has killed people before ❤️)

this is my third WMOM fanart post. I’m crazy I’m crazy augghrggggrrr!!, HRRRGRGRR!!! I have too much free time to draw the same two guys over and over and I regular use it!! I’m so normal about them I’m sooo normal I definitely don’t listen to songs and imagine animatics with them. I definitely don’t spend my days waiting to draw Victor and Alistair until I can actually sit down and draw them until I fall asleep. I can be trusted to enjoy them a normal amount (<- lying)

cough. anyways. Blorbos are by @stjohnstarling per usual! I love the sillies and thank you for sharing them with everyone (including me teehee)

[stinkysidebitch]

Horny Bird (HawksXGN!Reader)

Summary: Hawks gets hit with a libido quirk and tries to hide it from you, obvs very NSFW, no mentions of reader’s genitalia 

(first smut chile)

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

Today had been a very.. strange day for Keigo Takami to say the least. He went to work like he normally had, and the first villain he took down was supposed to be fairly weak. His quirk wasn’t. Hawks was hit, but he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t even text you, his loving, live-in partner.  Still, after that the individual was pretty easy to take down. Then he had to deal with a few more unsavory characters and began to really feel it. 

First thing that happened was he remembered waking up to you this morning and he felt that dull ache in his stomach. Then that feeling happened again. It happened three times after before the rest of his body began to ache. He ended up finishing his shift and coming home with the most painful boner he had ever experienced. Everything in Hawk’s body was tense, and warm, and aching. He wanted you so damn badly. It had been a libido quirk, he wasn’t stupid. 

With every step he felt himself shift in his boxers and he had to pause to keep himself from letting out any of the sinful groans he was trying to swallow down. In truth Hawks was surprised it didn’t hit him harder right away, but now he felt like his legs were fucking numb as he trudged inside. He hoped you were taking a nap so he could go in the bathroom and jerk it until his member quit throbbing, but unfortunately he wasn’t that lucky.

He closed the door a little too loudly, and just like that your voice rang out from the kitchen.

“Hey, babe! Made us some dinner, come eat!”

Even hearing your voice made his stomach tighten. 

“I-uh..Yeah, just. I need to go lay down for a bit,”

First of all Keigo was stuttering. He didn’t do that. He sounded strangely unsure. You peeked around the corner and took him in. He was red and sweaty. He awkwardly kicked his shoes off and put his jacket on the coat hanger while avoiding your gaze. His headphones were next to go, tossed haphazardly into the nearest chair. His wings were shaking. That was pretty rare.

“Are you okay?

“Never better, birdie.” He gave you that smile. You know the one, but something wasn’t right. He looked like he was straining a bit. Maybe he just had a bad day and wasn’t feeling well.

“Can I lay with you?”

“Uh- sure, yeah.” Weird. He was being hesitant. 

In truth you wanted to see what was up with him, but a nap sounded even better. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leading you to the shared room. You had to admit, Keigo was a fantastic cuddler. His arms were strong and warm, not to mention the way he wrapped his wings around you when the two of you were entangled.

You crawled in first and your boyfriend followed suit. Hawks quickly pulled you into his lap so that your legs were situated around his hips and arms around his neck.  You tried not to gasp when you felt his erection against your thigh. He was hard, like, really hard. It was strange to you that he wasn’t addressing that, though. You planted a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth and he affectionately nuzzled his cheek against your shoulder. Two large red wings circled around you  like a security blanket. It was almost like he was making sure you stayed with him. It was a little strange how the two of you were sitting, still. You expected he’d lay down like he normally did when he had a bad day, but he didn’t.

Obviously you weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon. Random affection was always nice. You couldn’t help but notice how stiff and rigid his shoulders felt. With one hand you began to gently knead at his shoulder and your other scratched his scalp. Usually that relaxed him pretty quickly. You were surprised with the little happy groan he released against your shoulder. Usually he wasn’t so vocal receiving simple shoulder rubs but you assumed he just really needed it. The horniness probably wasn’t helping either.

“You’re reeeaally tense, honey. Did something happen today?” You hoped he couldn’t hear the smirk in your voice when you shifted a bit in his lap.

Hawks’s hands that were wrapped around your waist tightened a bit and he shook his head, effectively burying his face further into the crook of your neck. You planted a gentle kiss on his shoulder, not missing the way he stiffened a bit under such a small gesture. This wasn’t like him at all. You just hoped he was okay.

Meanwhile Keigo was struggling to hold himself still at all. He couldn’t even think right now. He wasn’t sure how this quirk would affect him sexually though, and he was scared to find out. Besides, admitting he needed your help with something like this would only damage his ego-

A little swivel of your hips interrupted his thoughts, resulting in a muffled moan. Honestly he was surprised he didn’t cum just from that movement alone, but he guessed the quirk also gave him a fair amount of stamina so he was weaker for a longer period of time.

“Unusually cuddly today, aren’t we?”

He let out a frustrated groan into your neck as you moved to nip at his ear. His breathing was heavier than normal, and you swore you heard him let out a little whine as soon as you bit him.

You dragged a hand to the base of his feathers and lightly scratched at the roots. You felt him move beneath you and took that as an opportunity to allow your free hand to wander down his side and up his shirt. You couldn’t help the little smirk that formed on your face when his head finally tilted back as a defeated whimper left his lips. Keigo’s face was red, his brows pinched together and eyes closed.

A sinful look that you usually only saw when he climaxed.

“What’s going on, bird-boy?”

“Got... hit with a-fuck-a quirk.”

“Next time, tell me. I’m more than willing to help, just ask.”

He looked back down and up at you through his long dark lashes. 

“Doove, help me out... You can get me there, yeah?” 

Your hand that had previously just been exploring his abs began to trace his adonis belt as a little smirk formed on your face. He already knew your answer, but hearing him ask like that made you want to play along.

“’Course I can.”

Leaning forward you pulled him into a deep kiss, taking all of the control. He secretly loved it when you did that.  It was full of movement and passion but Keigo could barely keep up. He felt dizzy and hot. You pulled his hair and ground against his erection and he broke this kiss with a shaky breath and puppy dog eyes. That was the begging look. He needed this bad.

You motioned for Keigo to lay back and he did as told, resting his weight on his elbows. You positioned yourself between his legs and began to trace his belt, taking in how flustered he truly was. A few pieces of long blonde hair had fallen onto Keigo’s face. He was sweaty and red, breathing heavily and even chewing on his lower lip to calm himself. You jolted a bit at the realization that he was drawing blood.

“That’s gonna hurt tomorrow, babe.”

With a smile you removed his belt, tossing it to the side and palming him through his pants. He tried to act unbothered, but you saw the way his legs trembled and his grip on the sheets tightened. You wanted to hear him though, so without warning you yanked his pants down as far as you could. 

His black boxers already had a significant stain from precum at his tip. The fabric was straining because Hawks wasn’t the smallest guy around by any means. If anything he looked bigger that usual, probably due to the quirk.

You playfully traced his erection through the boxers earning a frustrated moan. You could feel his skin through the boxers and it was unnaturally warm. Hot, even. Looking up though you were met with the desperate eyes of your favorite horny bird and couldn’t really resist. 

If you had to guess he was probably pretty uncomfortable. When you abruptly pulled down his boxers Hawks quickly raised his hips to help you out. He didn’t give you the time to pull them father than his mid-thighs, dropping his hips stubbornly. The first thing you noticed was that his dick was...

red.

like.. red, red. And leaking.

“Like what ya see?”

You shot him an eyeroll.

“Still trying to be slick?”

“Always.”

For someone who was suffering from severe horniness he sure was sassy. That changed when you firmly grabbed Keigo and slowly pulled your hand down from his upper shaft all the way down to the base.

“O-Ooohh fuck!”

His eyes screwed shut yet again, head tipped back as a long, unfiltered moan spilled from his pretty lips. You swore you saw his toes curl in his socks.

“You sound so pretty like that,”

Reaching a hand underneath his balls you took the opportunity to massage them with one hand, using your other to thumb at his tip. His head lolled forward, eyes closed and breaths heavy. You gave him another long stroke, pausing to give his leaking head a good squeeze. He physically shuddered, and slowly lifted his head to look at you through strands of damp blonde hair.

“How long were you thinking about this today?”

“God..a- all... all fuckin day-”

He cut himself off with a stifled groan as you pumped him a few more times. Keigo was biting his lip again in an attempt to quiet himself, his eyes were heavy and almost vacant. He was already so fucked out and it was driving you crazy. You sped up your pace, leaning forward to reach a hand up the front of his shirt. 

It drove him fucking insane when you played with his chest, and that’s exactly what you did. Your hand found his nipples, giving one a pinch earning a sharp intake of breath.  You massaged the sensitive area, tugging at it a few more times. He twitched in your hand from the sensation and you let him go for a moment in order to crawl over him.

It was probably the first time you had seen your boyfriend look so speechlessly flustered. Hawk’s face was red, eyes unfocused and lips slightly parted. You dipped down, capturing him in a slow and hungry kiss. Eagerly he grabbed your hips and allowed himself to fall back completely against the bed. Large red wings shook around you.

His hips involuntarily bucked, hitting your crotch. It was fun teasing him a little but you felt bad. Doing him a favor you reached between the two of you, pumping him again earning a shaky moan against your lips. It was almost immediately that your boyfriend began to fuck your hand. His legs were trembling pretty badly at this point. In truth you weren’t sure why he hadn’t cum yet, but you got an idea.

Prying your lips from his own your began to leave a trail of kisses down his jaw and neck. The small sounds that escaped whenever you grazed him with your teeth were beautiful, but you figured he had suffered enough. He helped you take his pants and boxers completely off despite being pretty weak at the moment. Eventually you got to his hips and settled yourself between his legs. 

Instead of wasting time, you licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft earning a choked sound as his head hit the pillow. When you reached the tip you took careful time in using your tongue to prod at the hole. His hips bucked and a heavy sigh left the quivering man. He had been teased enough. You leaned over him and took the head into your mouth, laving your tongue over it in the process.

“Ohhh, (y/n)”

You wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft and relaxed your tongue, taking him in as deep as you could. What you couldn’t fit in your mouth, your hand pulled and massaged. He jolted as his member entered the wet cavern in your mouth. It was so hard to not fuck your throat but Keigo didn’t want to choke you. A long, soft groan left his lips at the sensation as he allowed himself a glance at you. 

“Fuck,” He loved seeing you like this.

You began to bob your head up and down, sucking him for all he was worth. Keigo was pretty like this, eyes nearly rolled back in his head, mouth open with soft pants coming through, brows furrowed. Your jaw was beginning to ache from the exertion but it was clear Keigo was close. 

You hummed around him and he choked on a groan, his ever so slightly rocking into your mouth. He was trembling and sweaty. The coil in his stomach was so tight he thought he might explode. 

“I’m so close, I’m so fucking close..” His voice was shaky and dsperate. It was like music to your ears.

You pulled all the way off of him and all the way down, firmly sucking on Keigo. His head hit the pillow and he let out a long, high pitched moan, body tensing and back bowing off of the bed. You rose with him, swallowing the ridiculous amount of cum that spurted from his tip. If this was what happened when he got hit with a quirk like that you couldn’t help but feel jealous. He flattened against the bed, gently rocking in and out of your mouth as he rode out his orgasm. Keigo propped himself up on one elbow and allowed his head to loll to the side. His moaning had turned into shaky panting at this point, hand now tangled in your hair.

Finally he finished. It was probably the longest orgasm he’d ever had and certainly the most satisfying. You pulled off of him and wiped your mouth with the back of your wrist, giving your boyfriend a satisfied smile.

“Feeling better?”

He shook his head with a light laugh.

“What do you think?”

[unholyobsessions]

I love you, please don’t break my heart

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Description: Falling in love is stupid, or it was until you met him.

Warnings: implied sex 

Word Count: 1.5k

Some people can name the exact moment that they fell in love. Growing up you thought that was stupid. It seemed impossible to look at somebody one day and just know. It seemed impossible to fall in love with someone. You didn’t believe it was natural to want to give everything to someone, to be emotionally tied to one person for the rest of your life. Your cynical thoughts as a child persisted through adolescence and adulthood. You never had a relationship that lasted more than a few weeks and would often settle for meaningless hookups. You didn’t believe in falling in love. Not until you met him.

Your relationship with Dr. Spencer Reid started like any others. You met him at a bar (classy right?) and he took you back to his place. It’s a routine for you, new guy every weekend, hook up, sneak out, repeat. Which is exactly why you’re surprised when that routine is broken. You don’t know what happened but you woke up too late and the space next to you was empty.

You entered a state of panic, a flutter of curse words slipping quietly past your lips. You quickly scrambled around the room, picking up your abandoned clothes and slipping them on. You all but ran out of the vaguely familiar bedroom only to stop dead in your tracks at the sight in front of you.

Spencer was standing in front of the toaster, shirtless, spreading raspberry jelly on a piece of bread. The delicious smell of brewing coffee overcomes all of your senses and you start moving forward before you even realize what you’re doing. The loud creak of the floorboard is what inevitably catches Spencer’s attention.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he starts. “I umm...made breakfast. I’m not a good cook but I made toast.” He’s nervous, that much is clear to you and you can’t help but find it slightly endearing.

You don’t know how to respond. This goes against a system that you have kept up since you can remember. You rarely stay the night and never stay for breakfast. But the smile he gives you, the way his eyes light up, and the awkward gesture toward the plate sitting on the counter, make the tiniest crack on your walls, but it’s enough to convince you. You smile back at him and walk the rest of the way into the kitchen, grabbing the pot of coffee and preparing a cup for yourself. You take it black, and the disgusted look on Spencer’s face makes you let out a small laugh. You sit together and make conversation, somehow managing not to mention the intercourse of the night before. His eyes speak a thousand words though and you find yourself flushing under his intense gaze.

Noon comes far too fast and you leave his apartment with his number and a promise to meet again.

. . .

You go on four dates with Spencer before you realize how serious your relationship with him is getting. It should bother you, it should make you want to block his number and forget about him. You entertain the thought for a while before shaking your head. You don’t want to forget about him. Without you even realizing Spencer has been breaking down each of your walls one by one and you don’t find yourself caring.

Your phone rings and a picture of Spencer with the biggest grin on his face lights up your screen. You eagerly answer the call and accept Spencer’s offer to come by his apartment after his flight lands.

Forty minutes later you’re standing in front of his apartment, your fist raised about to knock on his door when he opens it.

“Hi.” He breathes out.

“Hi.” You match his smile. He pulls you inside and into a kiss, mumbling against your lips how much he missed you and for once in your life, you find yourself feeling the same. You allow him to push you against the wall as you thread your fingers through his messy hair. He pulls back and pulls you to his couch, holding you close to him. He looks exhausted, and you want to ask him about the case but you know he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. Right now he just needs a distraction and you are more than happy to provide him with one.  

You suggest a movie, saying the first title that comes to mind. The change in his demeanor is instantaneous. His eyes light up and he starts gesturing with his hands as he goes on a tangent about the director and the history of the movie and you smile. You lean your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering upwards to gaze at him. And in that moment, you know. Your heart stops at the realization.

You finally understand the way you feel whenever he gets so excited when talking about statistics or random facts he knows. You understand the feeling in your chest when the he scrunches his nose when he is in deep thought, the butterflies in your stomach because he always asks for your opinion and never makes assumptions of you. You understand why you are so entranced by his laugh, his humor, his radiant personality, and the way he just seems to bring life to every situation. You can finally explain the never-ending happiness he makes you feel.

You are unbelievably, irrevocably in love with him. And God you’re terrified.

You don’t know what to say. He’s stopped talking and is now studying you, silently asking if there’s something wrong. You shake your head and lean forward to grab the remote. You try to ignore the tightness in your chest as his fingers subconsciously trail down to your thigh and start to draw random figures on it.

You love him but you can’t tell him.

Not yet.

You wonder if he knows. If he can feel your heart beating erratically or see the look in your eyes. Maybe he can read it on your face, he’s always been able to know what you’re thinking with just one look.

I love you Spencer Reid. I love you. Do you know that? I need you to know that.

Your head is screaming at you and you can hardly concentrate on the movie playing in front of you.

You wonder how he will react if you tell him. Will he say it back? Will he reject you? Will he confirm your fears that you are not worth it. That you are not good enough to have an epic love story. Just like your mother wasn’t.

I love you Spencer Reid. Please don’t break my heart.

. . .

You don’t tell him until a month later.

You’re sitting on a picnic blanket at the park with him. He is looking up, pointing out different clouds. You are not gazing at the clouds but are however admiring the way he looks. He is leaning back on his hands, his purple button up shirt rolled up just above his elbows. He’s smiling, completely entranced by the captivating sky and he’s relaxed, calm, for a single moment not worrying about the monsters hiding in the dark. He’s happy. The angle of the sun hits perfectly and lightens his face with an angelic glow. He looks nothing less of ethereal. You are mesmerized by the man sitting in front of you and you have this strange need to paint him, to capture this perfect moment in the way only an artist is capable of doing. You apparently allow yourself to ogle him for too long because he turns to you with a confused grin before speaking.

“What?” He lets out a small, adorable laugh and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I love you.” He pauses. The peaceful atmosphere breaks and you avert your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. You feel the infinity of milliseconds between each second. An eternity passes by again, and again, and again. You find yourself counting in your head.

Point zero-one. Point zero-one-two.

Your mathematical tangent is interrupted by a featherlight touch on your chin. You allow Spencer to move your head but you still refuse to meet his eyes.  

“I love you too.”

The world stops. Your eyes snap to his and he’s grinning. A beautiful, dazzling smile that knocks the breath from your lungs.

You kiss him.

You kiss him because it’s the only thing you can think to do in that moment. Your brain has stopped functioning and you’re not one hundred percent sure your heart is still beating. But you don’t care, if you die, you can’t think of a better way to go, because Spencer Reid loves you. You and only you. You both pull away wearing similar lovesick smiles.

The atmosphere changes but at the same time it doesn’t change at all. The feelings have always been there, the only difference is that they have now been spoken. They are out in the open and the air around you whispers the words back hoping to engrave the passionate moment of declared love into the earth forever.

Spencer looks back up at the sky and points out another cloud, a bunny riding a motorcycle, and you allow yourself to lean against him as you peer up at the sky.

[honey-dewey]

Moreno Family Movie Night

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/GN! Reader

Word Count: 1,658

Warnings: Mentions of the events of the movie Jaws, but this is 100% fluff

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell​

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog​, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never seen Jaws?” 

Marcus looked up from the breakfast table, eyes wide. You and him had been talking about childhood movies and he’d admitted to never seeing the classic movie. “I dunno,” he said. “I just never saw it.” 

You sat beside him, still slightly shocked. “You were, what, a teenager in the 80’s?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And Jaws came out in the mid-seventies.” 

“Yep.” 

You stared at Marcus. “And you haven’t seen it!” You said, probably a bit louder than you should have.

Marcus laughed, taking your hand. “Babe, is it really that much of a tragedy that I haven’t seen Jaws?” 

Nodding, you kissed Marcus’s knuckles absently, already looking up movie tickets on your phone. “Yes it is, Mr. Moreno. Yes it is.” 

Two days later, you had a plan. There was a beautiful vintage drive-in theater that was doing a marathon of summer movies, and Jaws just so happened to be on the list. You got tickets, getting a third knowing Missy would probably be joining you, even if she just slept in the backseat the whole time. 

Naturally, you told Missy all about your plan first. 

“Hey kiddo,” you said, poking your head into her room the day before movie night. She was doing homework, but looked up when you came in. “Wanna go somewhere special tomorrow night?” 

“Yeah!” Missy said eagerly, jumping up. “What are we doing?” 

You smiled. “I’m taking you and your father to see Jaws at a drive-in.” 

Missy hugged you, her homework entirely abandoned. “Really?” she asked. “Is it scary?” 

Laughing, you nudged her back towards her desk. “Well, when it was made, it probably was. But now? Not really. The special effects are, pardon my language, complete shit.” 

“That sucks,” Missy groaned, flopping back into her chair. “But it’ll still be fun!” 

You nodded. “Yep. Gonna be fun.” 

The night of the movie, you insisted on going out to eat, as a treat because Marcus had been working his ass off at work and deserved to relax for one goddamn night. He accepted, grinning as you took him and Missy to your favorite tiny little burger place, just outside the drive-in. The burger place was technically a food truck, but the burgers were so damn good you didn’t care one bit. 

Sitting at a picnic table with your food, you sat practically in Marcus’s lap, handing him his burger and passing Missy’s across the table. The night was warm but not overly stifling, with the setting sun in the background and the gentle sounds of the evening rolling over. It was peaceful, even with Missy shooting you amused glaces in between fries. You simply smiled at her, giving her the barest of head shakes when Marcus wasn’t looking. 

“So,” you said, stealing one of Marcus’s fries and smiling at him when he poked your side. “Missy, how was school?” You were trying to keep the conversation mundane, so as not to give away your plan. 

“Good!” Missy said happily. “I started a new project in science today. It’s all about animal classifications.”

Marcus nodded along as she spoke. “Really?” 

“Mhm!” Missy hummed. “I got this list of animals, and I have to make a poster classifying all of them.” 

“Sounds fun,” you said, taking another fry, despite Marcus’s playful nudging for you to not. “And how’s your Heroics stuff going? I know you said last week there was a fight.” 

While Missy told you about how her after-school activity was going, you checked the time, smiling. Half an hour. 

When you were done with dinner and conversation, you ushered everyone back into the car, not wanting to be late for the movie. The sun had fully gone down, and you had a tiny bit of trouble finding the movie spot, but when you did, Marcus knew what was going on instantly. 

“I swear to god, if we’re seeing Jaws,” he said as you showed the attendant your tickets. “Missy is in the car!” 

“It’s a PG movie,” you reassured, smiling at the attendant when they told you where to park. “Well, PG by 1975 standards, but that means it’s PG-13 now.” 

Marcus sighed. “Are you sure?” 

You nodded, laying a hand on Marcus’s thigh after you’d parked. “Hon, I watched this movie about a dozen times when I was like, seven. She’ll live. Plus, it’s only PG-13 because people get eaten, duh, and you can see the silhouette of a woman’s bare boob for like, half a second. It will be okay.” 

Reassured, Marcus began to fiddle with the radio, as per the instructions on the screen in front of you. The radio fizzed and hissed, sound going fuzzy until he found the right frequency, playing smooth waiting music. 

“Ten minutes,” you said happily, looking into the backseat. “Now is the time for bathroom breaks.” 

Missy didn’t get up, only shifted to the middle seat and scooched forward a bit so she could see. Marcus got out, but only so he could grab a few blankets from the trunk that he kept in there for emergencies such as forgotten ones at sleepovers or a car breakdown in the winter. As he distributed the fuzzy blankets, you managed to find a once lost bag of gummy bears, now unearthed from your center console. You passed Missy a generous handful, leaving the bag open in the console for you and Marcus. Just as Missy asked when the movie was going to start, the lights dimmed, and the message faded from the screen. A cool voice said through the radio, “Please enjoy your movie,” and then, it had begun. 

You smiled, taking Marcus’s hand. The movie brought back millions of memories for you, mostly memories of crowded couches and late nights with extended families. Even now, you could still remember crawling into your father’s lap and falling asleep there near the end of the movie, although it may have been the middle, but you couldn’t recall that detail now. All you knew now was that you had to make this very first viewing memorable for Marcus and Missy, just as it had been memorable for you. 

“Okay, the first attack is kinda super scary, so be warned,” you said softly. “Missy, honey, if you get scared, just tell one of us, okay?” 

Missy promptly shushed you, focused entirely on the movie. You smiled, turning back to the screen. 

Not even five minutes later, Missy and Marcus were gasping, meanwhile, you were unfazed by the frankly terrifying death that had occured. 

“I’m never swimming in the ocean again,” Missy decided, scooting back and trying to conceal a yawn. 

“I second that,” Marcus added, gripping your hand tighter. “You’re sure this isn’t scary?” 

You nodded, smoothing your thumb over the back of Marcus’s hand. “I promise,” you said. “That’s the scary bit.” 

Around the halfway bit of the movie, you heard Missy shift in the backseat. Turning, you smiled as she yawned widely and lay down, her eyes barely open at this point. “Missy,” you said softly. “If you’re tired, close your eyes. I have this movie on DVD, and we can always watch it later, okay?” 

Missy gave you an exhausted thumbs up before turning over and burying herself in her blanket. You leaned closer to Marcus, placing your head on his shoulder. He moved so he was closer to you as well, cuddling up as best he could with the center console in the way. 

Despite the late hour, you and Marcus stayed awake for the rest of the movie. It was hard, but eventually, the movie was drawing to a close, and you were finally ready to fall asleep, even if you were the one behind the wheel. 

“Babe?” Marcus mumbled as the credits began to roll, nudging you to see if you were still awake. “Hey, you up?” 

You nodded, stretching and pulling the blanket off of you. “Yeah. Did you like the movie?” 

Marcus yawned, looking into the backseat, where Missy was still stretched across all three seats, using a spare blanket as a pillow. “Should I wake her up?” 

“She has to buckle in,” you pointed out, starting the car and fiddling with the radio so it was playing actual musica again. “So yeah.” 

After Missy woke up, accompanied by a lot of groaning and complaining, you pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive home. Missy fell asleep again, sitting upright and leaning against the window, and Marcus very quickly began to do the same, his hand loosely holding yours as he drifted off. You smiled, the gentle sounds of your two favorite people sleeping mixed with the soft music coming from the radio lulling you into a place of peace. 

Home came too quickly. Despite how exhausted he was, Marcus carried Missy into the house, laying her in her bed and pulling her blankets around her. You stood in the doorway, waiting for Marcus. He smiled, giving you a gentle kiss before following you to your bedroom. 

“Tired?” you asked, watching Marcus stumble around the room looking for the pyjamas you were holding. He nodded, grinning at you. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, coming towards you and taking the pyjamas. “Good movie though.” 

“Really?”

Marcus nodded, wrapping you in a warm bear hug. “Mhm,” he hummed, the vibration of it in his chest rumbling through you. “The special effects were garbage, but it was really good.” 

You smiled, wrapped in Marcus’s hug, warm and safe, there was no place you’d rather be, especially after a night like the one you just had. Nothing could make it better than it already was like a Marcus Moreno bear hug. “Just wait until I make you watch the rest of them. In the third one, the shark’s brother or some shit is out for revenge.” 

Marcus groaned into your shoulder. “No. No, absolutely not. We are not watching that.” 

“Aww, but-” 

“Nope!”

[nobodyfamousposts]

The Wisdom Teeth Reveal

Alya visits Marinette after she gets her wisdom teeth removed.

Warnings for angst. Angst. ANGST. ANGST.

...No one said the reveal was going to be a good one.

____________________________

It was supposed to be funny.

When Alya had learned Marinette would be getting her wisdom teeth removed, it had sounded like the perfect opportunity for some fun. People under the effects of the medication were usually suggestible and easily fooled. It would make for a hilarious prank. She could record it and share it with Marinette later once she was recovered. They would have a long laugh over it.

People did it all the time. So it was supposed to be okay, right?

Besides, Marinette was a good sport. She never complained about the things Alya posted about her to Instagram, after all. Regardless of what any of those lame self-righteous naysayers claimed. Besides, she gave Marinette permission to do the same to her, so that was fair. Those people didn’t know what they were talking about. 

And this would just be another bit of harmless fun to add to the mix.

Oooo! And what if she got video of Marinette confessing her feelings for Adrien! People on the medication were often noted to lack a filter. Maybe she could use this to help her bestie. She could get Marinette to admit her feelings and then show the video to Adrien! It would be perfect!

Alya chuckled to herself as she made her way to Marinette’s room, giving a brief reassurance to Sabine as she told Alya that Marinette was resting and not to bother her too much. Not like recording for prosperity was really anything too strenuous.

Sure enough, when she made it into the room, Marinette was on her bed sleeping. And completely out of it. It wasn’t any trouble getting her to wake up and acknowledge Alya’s presence. No more than it was to have her camera out and at the ready.

“Alya...m’tired.”

“C’mon, Marinette! You need to wake up!”

“I want to sleep.”

“You need to answer a few questions first.”

“But ‘m supposed to rest?”

“Your mom said it was okay.” Well, technically anyway. “Really?”

“Yes. So you have to.”

“Oh. Okay...” Marinette frowned, unhappily but forced herself into a sitting position.

Alya grinned, gleefully.

“So Marinette, what do you think of everyone in our class?”

Marinette smiled. Or at least as much as she could with the gauze. “They’re great. I l’ve ‘em lots.”

“Aww.” Alya cooed. “We love you too, Marinette.”

Marinette looked at Alya in surprise, her eyes welling up with tears. “Really?” She asked. Like this was actually a surprise.

“Of course!”

And...oh. Yeah, she was crying now. And wiping away the tears that kept coming. “I wasn’t sure.” She sobbed. “Cause...cause we’ve all known each other for years but we’ve never been close. I mean, Chloe bullied me all the time and no one ever said anything. They just sorta...let her.” She hiccuped. “This is the first year any of us actually hung out or anything. And everyone has been so nice and I was scared.”

She wiped her nose. “S’why I do so much. And take on all the requests. And became Class Rep. Cause I want them all to like me and ‘m scared they don’t. Or they’ll stop. An...an maybe if I keep doing things for them, they’ll like me.” She looked up at Alya, eyes red and wet. “They love me?”

Alya swallowed. “Y...yeah.”

And Marinette started crying again.

...okay, this was a bit more uncomfortable than she’d been planning on. Time to switch gears.

She had originally planned on a joke about Adrien agreeing to date her, but given how much she was crying and already worked up, Alya reconsidered. She didn’t want to dehydrate the girl, after all.

But she could still help her.

“Hey, Marinette. You love us all, right?”

“Yeah.” Marinette agreed, nodding enthusiastically for a moment before the dizziness set in and she held her head.

Alya grinned. “That’s great! So what do you think of Adrien? You love him, right?”

“Yeah...”

She had to hold back a cackle. “How much do you love him?”

Marinette hummed to herself at that. Her eyes were squinting and her face was scrunched up in thought.

Alya leaned forward eagerly, phone in perfect position to record every word.

“I wish I never met him.”

Alya’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?”

Marinette sniffled but didn’t answer.

“No. Come on, Mari. I need to know. You love Adrien, don’t you?”

“I do. And I hate it.”

She had stopped crying. Just...stared ahead blankly.

“I’ve...done a lot for him, y’know? I let him think my gift was from his father. I helped him with Kagami. Twice. And I don’t expect that I’m owed anything, because that’s not fair to him. But it’s just...I’ve already done so much but it’s like nothing I do is good enough. I can’t tell him how I feel without something going wrong. And he just...he never sees me. It’s like...maybe it’s the universe’s way of telling me we aren’t meant to be.”

She laughed, sadly.

“But what really hurts...is how little I matter to him.”

“What? Marinette, no! Of course you matter to him!” Alya insisted, trying to reassure her.

Marinette shook her head.

“Not as much as Chloe. Not as much as Lila. It’s like...he knows. He knows what they do. An how they treat me. But...I’m still the one in the wrong for being upset about it.”

Alya frowned. “Marinette, what do you mean by that?”

“It’s like...it’s like how Chloe was leaving! She was gonna leave! I was finally free!” Marinette exclaimed, waving her arms excitedly. “Everyone was happy about it! Not just me! But...he got so upset. And...he just...was all ’poor Chloe’. And how can we be happy she was gone? I...wanted to say so much. But it felt wrong. And...did I really have to point out every horrible thing she’s done? How she hurt me an everyone else? It was obvious! But I couldn’t say it because it’d just make him feel bad for defending her. So the best reasoning I had was that she was ‘useless’ like...like that was the real problem and not that she was mean. Or that she made fun of me every day. Or stole my hat design. Or stole my diary. Or ruined my gift. Or blackmailed everyone. But it was like...he just maybe forgot? And he started a guilt trip to make me feel bad for my bully until I had to be the one to admit being wrong.” Marinette sobbed. “He never stood up for me like that. No matter what Chloe did to me.”

Alya bit her lip. Because no, she couldn’t argue that.

“What if we were dating? What would really happen, do you think? Chloe wouldn’t just let it go. Would he defend me? Or would he lecture me again and take her side? I have nightmares where we’re married and she just...keeps crashing our dates. And taking over our house. And taking Adrien away from me. And Adrien just lets her and I can’t say anything because then he’ll be upset with me.”

She leaned her head back, the picture of exhaustion.

“And I’m just so tired. I try, y’know? And no matter what I do, he never sees me. It’s like I’m being punished every time. Punished for trying. Punished for not trying. I’m like...stuck in...in....”

“Limbo?” Alya suggested, weakly.

Marinette nodded. “Yeah! I’m stuck in limbo and I just want out. Just...just let him tell me no so I can move on already. Because...cause this...this hurts.” More tears fell. “This hurts a lot.”

“So you don’t care who Adrien ends up with?” Alya asked.

“I care. I can’t not care. I just...it depends? It’s okay if it’s Kagami because I know she loves him. Cause I still want him to be happy and in a good nice happy relationship and Kagami cares about him and wouldn’t let Chloe take over. Kagami can stand up for herself better than I can. S’why I’m really jealous of her.”

Okay. This was...not what she had been hoping for. But if Marinette was okay with Kagami dating Adrien, then that meant she had no reason to be upset with Lila, right?

Marinette was clearly out of it. But her current state was only one where she lacked a filter. That meant...everything she was saying...

What was that quote? Drunk words are sober thoughts?

“So you’d be okay with Adrien dating someone else?” Alya asked.

“It’d be a relief.” Marinette muttered.

“Even if it was Lila?”

Marinette froze. The tension suddenly skyrocketed.

“Not Lila.” The words were biting despite her voice being muffled and the slurring of her words.

“Why?” Alya demanded angrily. How could she be okay with Kagami of all people but not Lila?

Marinette hummed to herself, seemingly absent-minded. Alya almost wanted to shake her.

And then...

“Lila threatened me.”

Alya froze, nearly losing her grip on the camera. “What?”

“She threatened me. In the restroom. That day she came back.”

Her thoughts were scrambling. Her mind racing to find an explanation.

“Maybe you misunderstood?” Alya suggested. Maybe Lila had been put off by Marinette’s attitude and was just warning her how she could push people away by acting like that? Marinette had been overly harsh on the girl after all.

But Marinette shook her head. “She said she tells people what they want to hear. Called everyone idiots for believing her.” Marinate curled in on herself, drawing her legs to her chest. “And then she said I could either let her or she’d turn everyone against me. Even Adrien. Though maybe I should’ve let her since he knows she’s lying and defends her anyway.”

She burrowed her head into her knees.

“S’why I was upset. Why th’ akuma came.”

Alya’s eyes widened. “Akuma? You were almost akumatized?”

Marinette nodded, still not looking up. “M’hmm. But T’kki talked to me an made me feel better so it went away. Then Lila got ak’matized.”

Who was Turkey supposed to be?

“Wait. Hold on.” Alya cut her off. “Why didn’t you tell me this happened?”

Marinette lifted her head from her knees, looking at Alya blearily. “Y’o didn’t believe me when I told you before though?”

“That was because you didn’t have proof!” Alya replied, defensively. “But you didn’t say she threatened you!”

“I didn’t have proof then either.” Marinette pointed out, strangely logical. She turned her head away to look at a spot on the wall. “But I had the story with Adrien and Ladybug. An’ how I returned Adrien’s missing book.”

“Wait—what?”

“Yeah. Cause Lila stole it. S’how I got it.” Marinette said, pointing a finger at nothing in particular as if emphasizing the point. “She threw it in the trash when Adrien came. And she showed off a necklace...said it was the Fox Miraculous an that she was Volpina. Then Ladybug came and yelled at her for lying. But...” She wilted. “You didn’t believe me. An you didn’t listen to me.”

She looked back to Alya, genuinely sad. “You never listen to me.”

Alya jerked up, taken aback at that. “Of course I do! We’re friends, remember?”

“You sided with Lila right away.” Marinette noted, glumly. “Trusted her over me. Didn’t even ask Adrien about my story just to be sure before deciding Lila was right. Or ask me about Jagged Stone to confirm her ‘kitten on the runway’ story. You knew I returned the book to let Adrien come back but didn’t take my word on where it came from? You knew I helped Adrien on his date with K’gami but still said I was only jealous over Lila because of him? Did you...even consider how that hurt?” She clenched her fists. “That I was blown off? That you didn’t trust me?”

“Well...” Alya hesitated, glancing to the side in uncertainty. “You have done some wild stuff out of jealousy before.”

Marinette blinked, staring at Alya in confusion. “I lied? I tried to hurt people? I lied about people to hurt them?”

“Well—no—I mean...” Because truthfully, Marinette hadn’t. Not intentionally or maliciously. And while there were a number of times she did hurt people’s feelings in her attempts to win Adrien’s heart, she always felt guilty for it and apologized once she realized it. She had often acted without consideration for the effects on other people, but she never acted with intent to cause harm.

She had always tried to make it up to people regardless of whether she was in the wrong. Even Chloe. So it didn’t make sense why she wouldn’t do the same for Lila.

“I know some things went too far.” Marinette admitted. “And I always apologized. But it’s like admitting I was wrong somehow meant I was always wrong. And I just kept apologizing even when it wasn’t my fault because I didn’t know what else to do.”

Marinette picked at a loose thread on her knee.

“My mind blanks and I panic a lot. And I’ve tried to do better but it feels like you don’t help with that and I have to always be the one to make up for it all.”

Wait, now she wasn’t making sense. “Marinette, what are you talking about?”

Marinette tilted her head to the side, taking a moment to think.

“During the modeling attempt with Juleka.” Marinette started, eyes unfocused as she recalled the incident. “I didn’t want Adrien there. You invited him anyway. S’wasn’t a good time. S’wasn’t a good place. But I couldn’t tell him no after he already agreed to you asking. When Juleka was upset, I tried to talk to her. And you...you pushed her out. To put me in. To force me with Adrien. I wasn’t okay with it either. It was distracting. I wanted to focus. I wanted to help Juleka. But you pushed about Adrien and put us on a time limit. We left her behind and she was aku...ak’ma...doll thingy.”

It was cute and silly and in any other situation, Alya would have laughed. But she couldn’t laugh about this.

“And when it was all over, I had to apologize. Even...even though it wasn’t my fault. Cause...cause I tried, at least? And at the end, I was the one left out cause of it. Like...like I had to make up for it all. An...an this seems to happen a lot. I think?”

“Marinette...”

“You push me a lot. I’m not ready. Not okay with it. Tell you no. But suddenly I’m there and he’s there and I feel like I have to do something because you’re watching and I know what’ll happen if I mess up. Then I panic and mess up anyway and you just...the way you look at me.” Tears started to fall again and she clenched her eyes shut. “It hurts. Like you’re disappointed and annoyed but not surprised cause you expected me to fail. But then like...why do you put me there? Why do you keep putting me there if you knew?”

She looked up at Alya.

“Is it...fun to you?”

Alya suddenly felt her mouth go dry. She couldn’t speak.

“Like...the instagram pic-tures. You got mad when people commented and said it was mean, but you never asked me how I felt anyway. I don’t complain cause I don’t want to make you feel bad but...like...you don’t know it’s embarrassing? Or you do and don’t care? I hafta watch anything I do when you’re around because I never know if you’re taking more pictures of me to post there and...you never ask.” She shrugged and looked away. “You say I can do the same, but y’know I won’t. I’d never. Cause I love you too much and...that’s what friends do, right? Look out for each other and not share things they don’t want shared? Keep secrets?”

Alya swallowed.

“But you told Nino.”

Alya flinched.

“You told him how I felt. Used him to put me in a position I will never not regret.” She gave a sob. “And I don’t know why anymore. Do you...do you like watching me fail?”

“I was...trying to help.” Alya explained.

“Then why does it hurt each time? Why do you talk down to me so much?” Marinette gripped her hair and pulled in clear agitation. “You get mad at me for talking about Adrien. You get mad at me for trying to confess to Adrien. You get mad at me for trying to give up on Adrien. I don’t know what to do to make you not mad.”

“Marinette, it’s not like that! You know that!” Alya insisted, feeling her heard pounding. In fear? In hurt? It was hard to tell.

The bluenette paused, slowly lowering her hands and relaxing her shoulders.

“Sometimes...”Marinette murmured. “Sometimes I wonder if this is how friendship is supposed to be. But...y’re the first friend I ever had. So I don’t know. And I’m too scared to ask because what if it is and you get mad and leave me? And that...everything else hurts. But the thought of you leaving me hurts more. I don’t know if it’d be worse to give up.”

Alya felt her own eyes tear up.

She couldn’t answer that. There was no answer for that.

There was a long silence.

“’M really tired.” Marinette suddenly complained. “And my mouth hurts. Is the surgery done yet?” She asked, looking up at Alya in confusion. Like the entire conversation never happened.

“Y-yeah.” Alya said, nodding her head. “They...everything just finished up. Your mom said you could sleep now.”

“Oh. Kay.” Marinette mumbled. Recognizing that she was in her own bed, she went to lay down, only struggling a little with the covers.

Alya began backing away, reaching for the door.

“G’night, Alya. Thank you for watching out for me.”

She froze, her hand on the door handle.

“Of...of course.” Alya replied.

“That’s...what friends do, after all.”

[joyfulsongbird]

sooooo. I wrote a Thing. all credit to @defilerwyrm for the concept of the mighty nein getting consecuted based on their connection to the beacon and credit to @mightymightynein for coming up with the idea that because molly died in proximity to the beacon, he would then come back in another body. none of these ideas are mine, I just couldn't resist writing out a little thing!! thank you both for your great ideas <3

ao3 link!!

*

Mollymauk Tealeaf wakes.

Not quickly, not all at once, but he wakes nonetheless. It does not feel like coming to, nor is it really the idea we all have of snapping awake one day and coming to the realization that you are not where you belong. He is born again, and born with the name Enna. He is a purple skinned drow, which pleases him that even in the next life he still has a lavender hue to his skin. He looks at himself in the mirror, once he comes to the realization. He looks at his features and tries to rearrange them into something he knew years ago, he imagines this face with horns, these brown eyes with red ones. It is strange, to look at what he knows is himself and it feels correct but at the same time, like something is missing. He grows used to the idea: his name is Mollymauk, he was a member of the Mighty Nein, he died and now he lives again. He does not know why but it takes time in order for him to fully come back to himself.

One night, after he is able to differentiate which memories are from his present life and which ones are from the last, he disappears. He had not been very attached to the family in this present life, they were distant as many parents were and even before his realization, he looked forward to the day he got to spread his wings and leave the nest. This just… pushes things forward a bit. He wraps an enchanted cloak around himself that would protect him from the sun (one that he had stolen months ago, old habits die hard), as that is something he has to worry about now, and sets off into the first adventure of his second life.

He walks and sorts through the memories in his head. Remembers their faces, their voices, the things they did, the way it sounded when they all laughed. On his travels, he purchases a deck of tarot cards. They are not his cards, not as elegant or artistic as the ones he used to own, but they feel good in his hands. His fingers slowly remember how to shuffle the deck, how to flip them between his fingers, and make them disappear, then reappear as if he had snatched them from behind somebody’s ear. He remembers, and it feels wonderful to be able to be a whole person.

His travels are long, he is only going on foot, and he only has so much money. To earn some coin, he gives tarot readings in bars and on the street just like he used to. People goggle at him, differently than they used to. Drows are not all that common, he finds, and it is especially not all that common to find a teenaged drow sitting in a bar with a grin on his face, telling an old man his future with as much confidence as somebody triple his age. As is his nature, people are drawn to him. He had forgotten the electric feeling that buzzes through his whole body when he is surrounded by life like this. It’s a wonderful thing, to feel alive even when you have died twice. And since he has experienced being lifeless twice before (only one of which he can remember his last breath leaving his body), he wants to experience it all again. Nothing wrong with that.

Months go by and he finds himself in Port Damali. He does not know where he is going nor does he have a destination but hopes that someday, fate will shove him near the Mighty Nein again by chance and he will be able to brush sleeves with them in this life too. He sits in a tavern, like he does every day, and tells a young woman that someday her spine will stop aching and that she needs to work less and that she’ll have at least three children. She grins at him and he grins back, already scooping up the three cards she had picked out and is waving his hand absently for somebody new to sit down.

“Do you read tarot cards ‘cause I really, really love tarot cards and I can read them too, you know? You read mine and then I’ll read yours, okay?” it takes him a moment, as he looks at the tiefling sitting across from him. She’s older now, wiser around her eyes but still just as bright in her smile. She’s dressed for the area, in what one could only ever describe as classic pirate garb. Molly smiles at her, his chest aching. It almost pains him to see her again, in this way where she does not recognize him. She leans forward eagerly, legs kicking back and forth under the table. She hasn’t changed.

He clears his throat, not prepared to let his thoughts get the better of him. “Of course! Here, pick whichever cards call to you. Three of them, if you please.”

She happily chooses three, placing them face down on the table all nice and even. Before he can turn them over, she leans in very close. She narrows her eyes at him, “do you know my name?” He laughs, loud and clear. “Let’s see if the cards tell us that, hm?”

Satisfied, she leans away, watching as he flips over the first card. He considers the card for a long time, and Jester watches, enraptured. “You’re a kind soul, aren’t you?”

She nods vigorously. Molly taps his chin in faux thoughtfulness. “You love to draw, am I correct?”

She gasps, “how did you know that? I do!”

“The cards told me.” he says, as means of an explanation. He flips over the next card without further analysis. “Ooooh, interesting. You should not let doubt plague you, you’re far too important to those around you to let those skills go to waste. Don’t hold back, let your chaos run free, my dear.” “That’s what I always say!” her voice rises in excitement and they get several odd glances from surrounding patrons. “You’re so good at this, oh my god!”

He simply smiles, before flipping over the final card. He forces a frown and Jester leans forward again, glancing rapidly from his face and back down to the card. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“You’ve lost things,” he says. “But don’t worry, you will find that not all is lost forever. Jester.” She jumps to her feet, her face alight with joy. Joy. He grins. He had been right, then, when he had named her card that.

She runs a small ways over to another table and grabs somebody's arm, dragging a familiar half-orc all the way back to Molly’s table, her words nearly incoherent out of excitement.

“Fjord, look, look! Tell him what you said, tell him what you saw in the cards- I told you, Fjord! It was the coolest thing, he knew my name, he knew it! I swear, look! Look at the cards!” she bounces up and down, her words strewn together as she points at the three cards laid out. Fjord looks down at them, then glances up at Molly who shrugs as he gathers up his deck and slips them back into his bag, finished for the night.

“I don’t know what they mean.” he says helplessly. Jester rolls her eyes, grabbing Fjord’s hand and then grabbing Molly’s.

“I want you to teach me! I’ve been practicing for-ever and I can’t get that good.” She grabs him and Fjord back to the corner table that Fjord had been sitting at by himself. She forces them both to sit.

“Jester,” Fjord says before she can get comfortable. “Could you grab me a drink from the bar?”

“Okay!” she doesn’t seem to question why, just bounces over to the bar and leaves the two of them in silence.

“How did you know her name?” Fjord asks gruffly. “I know it’s not because of the cards. Are you a spy of some kind? Seem a little young to be a spy.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” It takes him a long stretch of quiet before he can even come up with the words. It hasn’t quite felt real up until this moment, up until he was faced with the ghosts of his past who aren’t actually ghosts. They are very much alive, only aged and more weathered than he knew them last. As he explains, as briefly as humanly possible, he watches Fjord’s eyebrows raise higher and higher. His eyes grow wide and fists clench on top of the table. Mollymauk knows it sounds insane, it doesn’t sound real, by anybody’s standards. There’s an uncomfortable pause after he’s done speaking when neither Fjord nor him know what to say. They are interrupted (maybe “saved” would be the correct word) by Jester returning with Fjord’s drink.

“Why so quiet guys?” she asks.

Fjord opens and closes his mouth, his face paler, “we need to go see Essek.”

[lordabovehelpme]

Save the Day- Din Djarin x Reader

Request: For your DFWL series (which is the best series? I?) May I request for reeza and the twins somehow accidently break a vase or something, and Myles has to be a big brother and attempt to like fix it and try to make sure the parents dont find out cause they went out for a bit? Or just hcs of Myles being a good big bro because i think it would be the cutest! - anon

A/n: Hello lovely! I am so happy to hear that you have been enjoying DFWL so far! I know I have been having a blast writing it! This is such a good idea, so I hope you enjoy this chapter!!! Love ya! 

This is the next chapter of my Days filled with Love series. You can find the first chapter here! :) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay Ready?” Reeza asks as she grabs the back of Isabets little legs.

“REE VAH!” A pat is given to Reeza’s head and she laughs.

“Alright, hold on!” She leans forward a little and starts to kick her foot, just as Paz had told them bulls do. “MMmmmmmmmm.” She takes off and sprints around the meadow.

Both girls giggle and scream as they feel like they are flying. Tobbi laughs from where he sits with Grogu, crayons and markers all over the porch. Myles happily draws pictures with his fellow brothers.

The five of them were supposed to be being watched by Paz. However, the giant warrior had ultimately fallen asleep on the couch. Who could blame him? Five energetic kids is a lot to watch.

You and Din are out on a date, one eagerly prompted by their uncle. “You guys never get out anymore. Go have fun! I’ll watch the kids. And maybe you can come back with the news of another!”

You had blushed and complained that your family was already big enough. But the two mandalorians, in their mandalorian way, giggled back and forth. They assured you that in their culture, a family never stops growing. However they both laughed when you sighed, “My back already hurts.”

So here the kids are, having already worn their uncle out and still lots of energy to keep them up.

“MYLES!” Reeza rushes back to her brothers with Isabet still on her back.

“What?” He looks up from his very detailed landscape he was currently drawing.

“BEES!”

“What do you- BEES!” Flying behind the two girls is a swarm of insects, instantly recognized from the bright yellow and buzz of their wings. Myles, ever the quick thinker, yells out, “GO TO THE LAKE! THEY CAN’T GET YOU IN WATER!”

Reeza runs as fast as her legs will carry her. “Okay Issy, time to learn how to swim!” She gets about hip deep before taking her sister into her arms. Making sure both their heads stay above the water she gets as deep as she can into the lake.

A loud battle cry comes from Myles as he runs to the shore where the bees have stopped. In his hand he pulls the hose and aims it towards the swarm. Holding it like a blaster, just the way his father taught him, he places his finger over the nozzle. The spray of water becomes harsh and unforgiving.

“HAH TAKE THAT! THAT'S WHAT YOU GET WHEN YOU MESS WITH THE DJARINS!”

“WAIT WHAT ABOUT TOBBI AND GROGU?” Reeza calls out from the safety of the lake.

“CRAP!” Myles instantly drops the hose and runs back to the house, on a mission to keep his brothers safe. Rushing up to the porch he scoops his brothers into his arms and does a 180, sprinting towards the lake. Tobbi squeals in delight and his little legs kick as Myles enters the water.

The five of them wait for about seven minutes before starting to bicker about who will walk out first.

“Myles, you're the oldest, you go first.”

“But I’m holding Grogu and Tobbi, and I can hold Isabet, you can’t hold all three of them. We are the older siblings so we have to keep them safe.”

Reeza huffs before realizing her brother is correct. “Fine, but if I die it’s your fault.” She hands Isabet to Myles before slowly wadding towards the shore. It’s a humorous sight. Myles, waist deep in the water with his three squirming siblings in his arms.

All four children watch as their sister walks onto the shore and cautiously looks around. She does a full 360, checking for the insects.

“Okay, it’s alright.”

***

Now in clean dry clothes the children decided that maybe it is safer to stay inside.

Paz is still passed out on the couch, and the kids, trying to be as respectful as they can, decided that the living room is off limits.

They are currently in the kitchen, on a mission for snacks. Raiding cabinet after cabinet they eventually find the items that appeal to them most.

“Let’s eat the grapes in the fridge too, Mom always says we have to eat as many fruits as we do crackers.”

Happy with this, Reeza sits down at the table after strapping her siblings into their chairs.

Myles opens the fridge and grabs the bowl of fruit you had cut up this morning as well as some peanut butter. Reeza opens the packet of crackers and places them in a design on a plate.

“We shall dine like Kings and Queens!” She announces while tucking her napkin into her shirt. Myles laughs while sitting down at his own seat.

Grogu, noticing the lack of parents, smiles before holding his hand out. A single grape rises from the bowl. Tobbi giggles while he holds a cracker in his fist.

Reeza drops down from her seat and rushes over to the side of the room. “Grogu, let’s play a game. You throw the fruit around and I’ll try to catch it with my mouth!”

Grogu claps his hands in agreement. Instantly the grap flies through the air towards Reeza. She leans towards the right and effectively catches it in her mouth. All five kids erupt in laughter. Well, except Isabet, she just sits with a scowl on her face, but you all have come to realize it is just her natural face.

This game goes on until the bowl is almost empty. Grogu has Reeza doing rolls and jumps to try and get the food. However, on the last piece of fruit Grogu throws it towards her left. She rolls and goes to stand up, but…

BAM!

It almost happens in slow motion. She had run into the tall table you have near the window. Some of your trusted house plants rest there as it is one of the places that the house gets the most sun. The vase with a bouquet of wildflowers the kids had picked you wobbles. It shakes and then tilts off of the table.

They all watch in horror as the vase crashes to the floor. Thankfully it landed on the mat by the door so it only broke into about six pieces, but water goes everywhere.

Reeza turns to her brother, head tucked into her shoulders and tears welling at her eyes. Myles runs about four different scenarios through his head in the span of a couple seconds, weighing each option against one another.

After only five seconds he has a plan. Rushing over to his sister he hugs her. “It’s okay.”  

“Mom is going to be so mad!” Tears start to fall on her cheeks.

“No no it’ll be fine. We’ll fix it. But I’m going to need your help, alright?” He looks at her. She wipes away her tears and nods. “Okay I need you to go grab some towels.” She nods again and rushes off towards the laundry room.

Myles turns to where his three siblings sit at the table, all their eyes wide. “You guys stay put, we don’t want glass to get into your feet.”

When none of them go to move he turns towards the oven. Grabbing a stove mit he starts to pick up pieces of the vase. Separating the glass and the flowers, he’s happy when he has two piles.

Reeza bounds down the stairs, quieter than usual as she doesn’t want to wake their uncle. In her hands are two towels.

“Okay, I think I got all the glass up but be careful. Go ahead and put the first towel on the ground and try to soak up as much as you can.” Following his command she does exactly as told. “I am going to go get some glue, don’t let them leave the table.”

Running as fast as he can, he rushes to where his father has supplies to fix about anything. Opening drawer after drawer he finally finds some super glue. “Perfect!”

Making a mental note of where he found the glue he goes back to the kitchen. Analysing the broken pieces he can see where the pieces fit together. Being extra careful, he applies glue to one piece and then another, and presses them together.

“Reeza how is the water going?”

“Towel one is soaked but all the water is up.”

“Great, can you please go quickly throw those in the hamper and put the clean towel back where you found it.”

She nods, her face as serious as he’s ever seen it.

“Okay Grogu, I need your help.” At the sound of his name, he looks up at his brother. “Can you hold these pieces together?” As if it were magic, the pieces are pressed against one another and held in place. Grogu coos, overjoyed that his older brother needs him.

“Perfect! Now I am going to start to glue and add more pieces, so can you do more than one at a time?”

Grogu coos once again and his little eyebrows furrow in concentration. When Myles adds another piece, he effectively holds it right in place. “Alright! There we go!”

Reeza sits down next to her brother, however her usual bright cheery smile is replaced by a frown. “Do you think Mommy is going to be mad?”

Picking his words carefully, Myles turns to look at her. “No, don’t worry about it. I’ll tell them. They won’t be mad at you.”

***

The vase is officially glued back together and it seems to be holding water. The glue is back where Myles found it and the flowers are back in the vase.

“Parents alert!” Reeza informs from where she was sitting at the window. In the distance she can see the Crest flying towards the house.

“Okay time for the clean protocol!”

They move faster than they ever have before. They pick up the crayons and markers from outside, put away the dishes from the kitchen, and settle in on the couch with their uncle. The house looks just as you had left it, no evidence of their eventful day.

Just as they practiced, as soon as the door is unlocked, they all close their eyes and pretend to be asleep. Even the twins know the routine by now.

“Oh babe, look how cute!” They can hear your hushed voice as you talk to their dad.

“Uh hum. You could hear Paz’s snore from the next planet over.”

A soft slap echos through the living room. “Don’t be mean, he gave up his day so we could go out. Be nice.”

They listen as your footsteps get closer and you pick the twins up. Still playing the part, they keep their eyes closed.

“Paz?” Your hushed voice tries to wake him.

The giant warrior stirs before finally waking. “Hmm what?”

“Glad to see you’re awake. We’re back.”

“I can see that.”

You giggle. “How were the kids?”

His arms lift as he looks around and counts heads. “They were great!”

“That’s good. Are you going to stay the night? I know it’s late and I’d hate to kick you out.”

“It’s late?” He mumbles to himself. “Oh umm no, I need to get back but if you need me to stay I can.”

“Oh no it’s alright. Thank you again for watching them.”

“Yeah no problem. You know how much I love them.”

Din has already taken the twins and Grogu up to their room and put them down. He walks back down just as Paz rises from the couch. They give one another a hug and a firm pat on the back. “Thanks man.”

“For sure.” Paz looks back at you before turning towards his brother. “When are you two having the next one?”

Din chuckles. “You try and ask her. Last time I did I had to carry a twenty pound weight around for a week. That shit’s not fun.”

Paz lets out a loud laugh but immediately stops after you scowl at him and point to the kids. “Sorry.”

After the three of you talk for a few more minutes, Paz makes his way out of the door. You sit down on the couch between Reeza and Myles. Reeza shuffles a little and settles down onto your lap. You smile and start to softly brush her hair.

Myles opens his eyes, as if he just woke up. “Hi Mom.”

“Hi baby.” Your arm wraps around his shoulder and pulls him close to you, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “How was your day?”

“It was good… uneventful.” It takes everything in Reeza to stop herself from snickering.

“Oh, that’s good.” Din sits down on the other side of Myles and places his arm on the back of the couch, keeping all three of you within his hold.

“How was your date?”

“It was good, although I missed you guys.” You press another kiss to Myles cheek and he giggles.

“Your mother has separation anxiety.”

Myles laughs while you glare at your husband. “Of course I do! You guys are my babies.” Looking down at Reeza, you scratch her back and you feel a shiver run down her spine.

“Time to go to bed.” Your husband huffs as he stands up, taking Reeza into his arms he beckons Myles to follow him. “Say goodnight to your mother.”

“Goodnight mom.” Myles wraps his arms around your neck and presses a kiss to your cheek. You smile and hold him close.

“Goodnight my love. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

***

You turn the faucet and warm water starts to run. Hands grip at your hips and kisses are placed against the back of your neck. He pulls the zipper down on the back of your dress. Every inch of skin that is revealed to him he sucks and nips at it.

“You looked so good in this dress.”

Turning around in his arms, you press a kiss to his lips. “Mm thank you.”

He growls as you bite his bottom lip.

“Reeza was awake, wasn’t she?”

“Definitely.”

You giggle and slip from his hold. “They’re so funny. I hope they were alright today.”

He sighs as he realizes he’s not getting as lucky as he originally thought. “Cyare, you worry too much. They said they had a great day.”

You slip into the bubbly water and lean forward, silently asking him to slide in behind you. “I can’t help it.”

He kicks off his pants and sits behind you, pulling you into his chest. You rest your head against his shoulder and close your eyes.

The two of you just stay against each other in the comfort of warm water for a second.

“Cyare?”

“Mmm?”

His hand moves over your stomach. “Are you sure you don’t want another one?”

You sigh. “Din, babe, the twins aren’t even one yet.”

“Soooo?”

You laugh, “You’re insatiable. You can ask again in a year. I need a break for right now.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I just love you so much.” You turn your head so he can press a kiss to your lips. “And our family.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Part: Rainy Day

I hope you all liked it! 

Please consider leaving a comment or reblogging, I love hearing what you all have to say! It makes my day! 

Love, Lordy :) 

Masterlist 

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space @jedi-jesi @coldlilheart @remmysbounty @t3a-bag​

If you want to be added/removed from my taglist- just give me a holler! :)

[1000fiction]

Day 11: Electricity ft. Estormo

Relationship:  Unspecified

Species: Unspecified

Warnings: Bondage, Fluff

Summary: In the grand scheme of thing, Estormo’s life was considerably plain. Until he met the dragonborn. Young and in love his pliable, willing to impress, and certainly willing to try new and dangerous things. Especially in the bedroom. 

Estormo muttered senselessly - though it most likely made sense to him – a serious and concentrated look upon his face. The dragonborn new he was deep in thought from the creases on his brow, their eyes following him as he double, triple, and quadruple checked he’d taken every measure to ensure the pre-planned evening was not only pleasurable, but safe. It was frankly adorable.

“Okay.” He exhaled deeply, assuring himself all was as it should be as he took his position at the foot of the bed. It was there he stood face to face with the dragonborn, their form knelt upon the bed, the extra furs piled beneath for their comfort almost swallowing them. Rope bound their calves to their respectable thighs, and their forearms and wrists were bound tightly, but not uncomfortably, behind their back.

He looked over them, the mighty legend bound like a parcel for his eyes only. His parcel. One the Altmer was simply itching to unwrap. The shockingly possessive thought had him flushing deeply from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, his eyes averting from their shameful nudity. A if it hadn’t been him to help them into the position in the first place.

He could their eyes watching him with great amusement, their patience granting him time to breath and regain his composure. He reached out, delicately lifting their chin with a finger till they met his eyes, caught somewhat off guard by the lust that swirled within them. Though he could only assume his were mirroring such an effect.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked gently, thumb soothing over their cheek.

“Very, surprisingly, I dare say these knots are an art form, will be shame to untie them.” The dragonborn responded lightly, easing his fears to near non-existence.

“We can use them another time, for now, I want to ensure the both of us are safe. Tell me again that you want this?”

The dragonborn leaned as far forward as they were able, presenting their lips to him in a silent request. He knelt on the floor, his hands resting gently on their roped thighs as they kissed him, their passion flowing into him and causing a low hum to resonate from deep in his chest.

“I want this. I trust you.” They whispered. His eyes lit up in adoration, swallowing down any remaining nervousness, and kissing them one last time.

“I love you.”

Long, golden fingers trailed across their thighs, pressing against every divot and bulge created by the ropes. He stopped when his hands came to the sides of their strong legs, fingertips drawing circles into the thickest section of flesh before releasing a short spark of arcane lightning. Whilst the quiet gasp was reassurance he hadn’t hurt them, what Estormo found most enticing was the reflex of their sex. Another small bolt, and again he watched the reaction from between their legs. It was a task, but he managed to pull his eyes away from the alluring sight, instead focusing on how the dragonborn breathed deeply in an attempt to cool their burning face.

The dragonborn found being struck so tenderly with the spell to be an odd sensation, similar to the shock of arousal they’d feel when they’d sit upon his lap or would catch his bedroom eyes after a long day apart. It felt good. Considerably more dangerous, but good.

The next hour was filled with blissful experimentation, sweet kisses, and laughter as the couple discovered where the storm mages touch wasn’t needed and where it was fully appreciated. Soon the couple had found exactly what made the dragonborn sing, and like mastering a beautiful instrument, Estormo was eager to compose a symphony.

The dragonborn trembled, quaking against their restraints as the Altmer trailed his fingertips down from their chest, splaying at their navel, and pulling away at the groin, all the while the smallest amount of lightning he could control sparked at the tip of each finger. Their sex ached, dripping with arousal and desperate for direct touch. Every little bolt in the sweeter spots had eagerly sent pleasure south, leaving them meekly gyrating their hips with their limited movement. They craved attention, and Estormo fed off the desperation, his cock rock hard and swollen, the head a painful deep purple.

He’d taken himself in hand multiple times throughout the night, edging himself to his limit as he felt his way across his lover’s body. Miraculously, he’d held himself back, and now his cock ached, the tip leaking an embarrassing amount of pre-cum.

“I can’t hold off any longer.” He muttered, joining them on the bed. They slotted together, one of his knees between theirs, his cock rubbing gingerly against their thigh, the tender flesh twitching away from the rope it rested upon. He whimpered, forehead resting against their shoulder as he took himself back in hand and re-commenced stroking his length.

He moaned and panted hard in their ear, his other hand finally caressing their sex. Given his state, the dragonborn hadn’t expected him to still muster his magicka, though they shouldn’t have thought less of such a superior Altmer mage. A continuous spark ignited his fingers as he handled them absentmindedly. His touch - which in normal circumstances would’ve been considered feather-light - felt intense and heavy, the magic sending strong arcane vibrations throughout the dragonborn’s body. It travelled to their core, an overload of artificial synaptic signals that rocketed through them. They could feel it in the tips of their toes, the palm of their hands, and they swore they felt his magic spike as they felt it behind their eyes. However, such an intense sensation could’ve very easily been the sudden onslaught of their orgasm, the sensation dragged from them by electric tendrils. Head thrown back, muscles taught, their release stole away all breath.

They didn’t hear the mer choke out their name, and nor did they feel him remove the hand that had caused such an intense reaction. His magic seemed to linger within their body, a sadistic paralysis that swam through their muscles, and ghosted sensations in the pit of their stomach.

It was his lips, the wet kisses against their heated skin, that finally drew them from their haze. His hand was filled with his spend, the thick cum leaking through his fingers and onto their thigh. Despite being laden with the fruits of his lustful labour, the dragonborn could see the hint of worry deep in his eyes. They carefully rubbed their nose against his, tilting his head just enough they could press their lips against his.

“I love you.” They whispered, smiling gently as his shoulders visibly relaxed.

“I love you too.” He murmured tiredly, nuzzling into their neck.

The pair giggled softly, the Altmer finally rising to clean up the mess the two had made. It took a considerable amount of time to remove each rope, but with every undone knot, a soothing hand massaged the dragonborn’s skin, a trail of kisses erasing any burning sensations left in the bindings wake.

To be able to stretch out beneath the covers of their bed was an overwhelming sensation, with every movement, the dragonborn could still feel sparks, arcane or orgasmic they couldn’t tell, but they praised their sweet Altmer none the less, assuring him of the immense pleasure he’d brought them till he drifted to sleep, a broad, proud smile upon his face, and his arm wrapped protectively around their waist.

[deltas-writing-corner]

Courtship: Invitation

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Warnings: mentions of blood | depictions of firearms/firearm handling | mentions of hunting

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

AO3 version

Slight revisions and full version posted on: 5/4/2021

“Here,” Sam hands you a thick envelope. “Your pay, as usual.”

 You trust Sam not to go behind your back and the mutual agreement set between you two, but you make sure to grab and stop him from walking away with all your produce just yet. You need to count the money he's handed over and ensure every last madol is where it should be. Thankfully, it is, but there are a few extra bills you know aren’t supposed to be in there.

 You remove the extra money and hand it back to him. “You gave me too much.”

 He pushes your hand back and shakes his head. “Consider this my holiday gift for you.”

 You give him an incredulous look. “You sure? Because if you come back here next week telling me I owe you money I’m going to sick the wolves on you.”

 Your threat is met with a hearty laugh from the shopkeeper. “Have I ever done you wrong, my friend?”

 “Yes, you have actually.”

 “Haha, good times indeed!” He casually waves at you as he hauls away your vegetables on a large wooden cart. “Happy holidays!”

 You have half a mind to remind him that the holiday season is over. Instead, you decide that it’s best to just turn around and walk away. The money is in your hands and your produce is in his care and that's all there is to it. This season's harvest is now officially concluded and you can start prepping for the spring. After a long-deserved rest, of course. The few extra madols give you just a little more than what was needed to put down for a brand new generator for the dorm. You have a model already picked out ahead of time. All that's left is to order and wait for it to come in.

 "Well?" Benji floats up to you as soon as you enter the front door. "Do we have enough?"

 You proudly wave the envelope in the air. "We have enough and then some!"

 Your housemates cheer and pull you into a group hug. Frankie takes the envelope from you and heads out, most likely heading to the safe you’ve hidden from Grim so he can put all the money together and deposit it at the nearest bank. Once the ghosts come down from their brief celebratory high, you excuse yourself and head to the backyard where Malleus is waiting for you.

 "I'm back!" you happily announce your arrival.

 "Welcome back," he smiles up at you. "Did you get your payment?"

 "I did!" you nod. "Frankie's taking it to the bank, so I should be able to get that new generator before sunset."

 "That's good. It'll be one less problem for you to worry about."

 "You can say that again," you sigh. "Thanks for your help today. I'm surprised we managed to pick and clean everything up before noon!"

 You situate yourself next to Malleus, who's sitting down on the low porch. Gunter's pups have been following him since breakfast and you don't think they'll be off his heels for some time. It's been like this since they were born. One might even be able to say that they like him more than they do you. Malleus doesn't show it or verbally express it, but you can tell he enjoys their attachment to him. He allows them to jump all over him and drench him in wet kisses without much of a fuss. Who knows, when they grow older they just might start following and taking orders from him rather than you. Maybe he won't need Sebek and Silver to follow him anymore if they stick around?

 You can imagine Sebek being incredibly offended that a bunch of wild wolves took his job.

 Malleus looks at you. "Have you given them names yet?"

 "The pups?" you ask for clarification. "I've been meaning to, but my head can’t think of any. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them."

 Malleus mulls over your offer. He picks up one pup at a time, trying to think of an appropriate name to give them. After about 10 minutes his shoulders go slack and he looks back over to you with disappointment. "I'm afraid I'm drawing a blank as well."

 "Well, you gave it a shot," you clap your hand on his shoulder. "Tell you what. Once we get that new generator, we can sit down and do a bit of name-brainstorming over some tea."

 "Yes, that sounds lovely," he smiles again, and you start to realize that he has a damn good smile. "When do you want to get together?"

 "Sometime next week. With the extra money Sam gave me I can get the generator in faster!"

 Malleus seems momentarily excited, but it quickly dies as he suddenly realizes something. "Can we meet the week after next? I have something important coming up."

 "Sure," you say. "What's happening next week?"

 "It's…" he hesitates. "It's my birthday next week."

 Your eyes pop wide open. "Oh shit, for real?"

 "Indeed."

 One of the pups desperately tries to jump up onto the porch, but his stubby legs and meager strength aren't enough to push him over the edge. As you reach down and help him up, you ask, "How come I'm only hearing about your birthday now?"

 Malleus carefully lifts the other pups onto the porch as well. "You never asked me."

 "No kidding", you snort. "To be honest, I thought that maybe you didn't celebrate it anymore since you're hundreds of years old. Don't birthdays lose their novelty after a few centuries?"

 "They do,” he agrees  “I haven't had a grandiose party since I was about your age."

 "Wow," your eyebrows lift in shock. "That's just rude."

 He suddenly looks so terrified. "I didn't mean it-"

 "I'm kidding!" you quickly reassure him. "Lighten up Tsunotarou! I'm not going to shoot you for poking a bit of fun at me."

 "So you say," he grumbles.

 "I'm not!" you defensively shrill. "If you're talking about the time I shot at those sea worms, I had every right to! No way in hell was I gonna be intimidated into giving my dorm up. Not now. Not ever."

 Those "sea worms" you're referring to are Jade and Floyd Leech from Octavinelle. During exams week, Ace Deuce and Grim as well as many other students who made a deal with Azul for his infamous study guides practically kissed the very ground you walked on in order to convince you to rescue them from their dubious contracts. Initially, you refused their request no matter how much they pleaded or bothered you. It wasn't until Jade and Floyd caught onto this bit of information (it’s hard to ignore a dozen students following you around like a bunch of chicks) that they began to set their sights on you. The two tried to squeeze you into a deal that would release everyone who signed a contract with Azul for his infamous cheat sheet, so long as you could keep up your end of the bargain. 

 It was clearly too good to be true or fair. Nevertheless, you decided to at least listen and attempt to negotiate some sort of proposal that would make both sides happy, if only to have your intruded space restored to normal. Unfortunately, Azul wouldn't settle for anything less than your dorm, which you refused to hand over despite Grim's OK to put it up for grabs. Jade and Floyd insisted you agree to the terms for the sake of your friends and fellow schoolmates, but you bluntly told them something that, to this day, never fails to make Malleus giggle even when he's in a foul mood.

  "You're not getting my fucking dorm! Not now! Not ever!"

 Unfortunately, Jade and Floyd began to follow you around too and even went as far as to visit your dorm during unconventional hours, on a regular basis. Their insistent arguments began to turn into veiled threats, and you aren't the type of person to take them all too well. Malleus remembers visiting you one day only to find you out on the roof, your hunting rifle in hand, keeping a vigilant eye out towards the gates for the Leech twins to make their expected visit. Malleus knew that your weapon is a dangerous one when used correctly, but he did not expect as much power behind it as it had until you shot a couple of live rounds near the merfolk's feet.

 His ears still ring thinking about that powerful discharge.

 "Where is your rifle?" he asks. "Also, where is your falcon?"

 "Twilight? She's still upstairs in her cage." You make a vague gesture towards the second floor.

 Twilight is a falcon that you found during one of your hunting trips, having suffered a nasty injury to her wing. You have some experience with falconry so you immediately recognized her mannerism as that of a hunting falcon as well as her breed, an Aplomado. You tried to find her original handler while you nursed her back to health, but unfortunately, no one came forward to claim her and you decided to keep her. You and her bonded very easily, so rehabilitating and training her to take commands from you was a breeze. While you expected her to maybe leave your side once she was able to properly fly again, she remains determined to stick with you.

 You stand up and turn towards the back door. "I should probably wake her up before she gets mad at me.”

 "I'll watch over these while you do that," Malleus grabs one of the pups who topples over another and refuses to get off of them.

 "Thanks!" You bend down and give him a quick one-armed hug from behind. "You're the best!"

 As you're about to head back into your home, you stop at the door and turn back around. "Are you sure you want me to bring my rifle?"

 "Do you not want to bring it out?"

 "I don't mind bringing it. It's just, not everyone likes to be around guns."

 Malleus nods in understanding. "Well, I'm not like everyone," he playfully remarks.

 "No, you're not," you smile. "I'll be right back then."

 "Take your time," he assures you.

"Rise and shine pretty bird!"

 You lift the dark sheet off of her cage so she can bask in the morning light. Twilight was busy preening herself, but now that you're in her sight she begins to happily screech and shuffles closer to the door, eagerly awaiting for you to open it so she can jump on you.

 You quickly slip on your handling gloves and help her transfer from her perch to your hand. Her sharp talons tightly grip around the sides of your fingers, but the thick leather prevents them from piercing your raw flesh. You snap your fingers a couple of times to get her attention focused solely on you. When she maintains steady eye contact with you, you reach into your pocket and present your other gloved palm to her. In it are some bacon bits you managed to snag from the leftovers of this morning's breakfast. She eagerly pecks and munches down the small meal.

 "It still isn't the best time to go hunting, but how's about I let you out anyways and you can stretch your wings for a bit?"

 She expands her wings and flaps them a few times, a sign that she's eager to take you up on your offer. You haven't taken her out to hunt for about a month, mainly because you were gone half of the time. The winters here are especially harsh, even with a bunch of fire faeries keeping the campus somewhat warmer. The pickings are also dry since most of the wildlife on the island are sticking close to their burrows to stay warm and wait out the season.

 You've been itching to head out into the forest recently, but winter is usually a bad hunting season for you. Luckily, you've met and befriended a few of the locals on the island who live off the bounty of the land as you do. They tend to look out for one another and offer help during difficult times, and the barren winter is no exception. You make a mental reminder to reach out and ask where some of the best hunting spots on the island are once this generator fiasco is all taken care of.

 "Now, you wouldn't happen to know where my rifle is, do you?" you ask her. When she goes to nibble a piece of your hair, you know that she has no clue.

 As you're about to head down to the foyer (you often leave it there), a sudden squeaking noise catches both Twilight and your attention. There, at the other end of the hall, a beady-eyed Jerboa bounces up and down in a steady rhythm in an attempt to grab your attention.

 Scarabia wasn't entirely traumatizing. You met Gizmo, the Jerboa before you, during one of the exhausting desert marches, nearly dead from severe dehydration. The little guy brought you a bit of comfort throughout the entire ordeal. He also was able to bring you the enchanted envelope Malleus gave you before he went back home for the winter break. It immediately sends any letter you place inside it to him once you set it on fire. How else could you have contacted him after your phone was conveniently confiscated after your first escape attempt?

 "Good morning, little guy," you smile down at him. "You wouldn't happen to know where my gun is, do you?"

 It seems he does, as he turns and begins to race down the adjacent hall. He stops every so often to look back at you, making sure you're still keeping up with him. Eventually, he stops in front of a door to one of several lounging areas. This one, in particular, is more the ghosts' lounge than anyone else's. It's filled with all sorts of memorabilia and photos from the dorm's heyday. The ghosts have shared a few stories about the shenanigans they got in when they were both alive and students at NRC. Interestingly enough, the dorm was a sort of "halfway home" for students undergoing the difficult process that is switching to another dorm. The idea was to separate the student from those of their originally assigned dorm so they can better learn and adopt the characteristics of the dorm they wish to transfer into.

 Soon enough, the dorm began to house more and more people. A common feeling amongst the residents of the past was a feeling of displacement or disconnection towards the other formal dorms and the ideals they upheld. While not approved by the headmaster, the residents began to form a sort of pseudo dorm with its own set of principles as well as assigning a dorm leader and vice leader just as the others did. Nothing was ever written in stone, but the ghosts vouched that the main “characteristics” amongst Ramshackle’s past residents was a desire to establish camaraderie with those around them, no matter their background or origins.

 Listening and learning what the Ramshackle once meant to them and so many others hit home for you. You lived near a small rural town, surrounded by people who were willing to share their resources with their neighbors and even the occasional stranger simply because it was a kind thing to do for one another. The students of NRC are willing to put their heads together, sure, but there almost always has to be some sort of catch that benefits the individual.

 Living with students like that is stressful as hell. Somedays you just skip school entirely, having already gone through the many woes and few wonders of high school back in your world. You have zero patience to deal with people who only view each other (and subsequently you) as inferior or a mere stepping stone to trample over. Ace and Deuce are your friends and have proven that they are "exceptions" so to speak. However, they're still just a couple of kids. No matter how well you three communicate and work well with each other, there's just a natural disconnection you feel with them that not even magic can fix. 

 It makes your close connection with Malleus, someone who's centuries older than you, incredibly ironic. You've essentially had your life figured out back home, and in some strange serendipitous way, so does Malleus. He's going to become king of his home country immediately after or sometime after he graduates, while you were going to continue living that nice rural lifestyle you lived back home, alongside your 3 aunts and many cousins. At least, once Crowley finds a way to send you back.

 Maybe that's why his confession felt so much more confusing and intensely when it happened. Everything seemed so linear before he uttered those three words to you. Now, it feels like the clear and concise timeline you've had pictured in your head for months is just one big blob of scribbles and nonsense.

  "Am I doing something wrong?" you desperately ask Frankie. "Because it feels like I made some huge mistake and now it's coming back to bite me in the ass right now."

  "Of course you haven't done anything wrong," he rubs your shoulder reassuringly.

  "Then why does it feel like everything around me is slowly falling apart?" You're sobbing at this point. The cigar you took from him earlier is now abandoned, snuffed out in the ashtray. "Why does it feel like  I'm  falling apart?"

  "Nu-uh," he shakes his head and gives you a stern look. "We're not gonna do none of that. Do you hear me? None."

  "Then what the hell do I need to do?!" you shriek. "Frankie, I'm fucking losing it here. I'm one more backhanded dismissal away from kicking Crowley's teeth in. I swear, if one more overblot happens, so help me. I can't deal with someone else's problems when I can't even get a full night of rest anymore!"

  "You've done nothing wrong, you hear me?" he reaffirms. "I get it, I do. Right now, life is handing you a bad hand and you don't have the people you usually rely on for support. I've been there kiddo. We all have. We may not be like your aunts or your loud-ass cousins,"

  A smile finally cracks on your face. He's using your own words you've used to describe your younger family members. You love the little tykes, but they can be a handful sometimes. 

  Damn, you miss them, your aunts too. They're all that you have left after a messy custody battle with your parents. This garden. Your rifle. Hell, even your insistence at taking over many of the household chores have all been your desperate attempts of finding some sort of familiarity in this new and strange world. 

  "But remember, those in Ramshackle stick together and help each other out when they're in a pinch. We'll handle all the little stuff, the cooking, the cleaning, the occasional clogged pipe," he scoffs, annoyed just thinking about the pipes clogging up again. They've been doing it a lot lately and everyone in the house is incredibly over it. "Right now, your only priority is yourself. Okay?"

  It takes you a moment to really take in his words, but eventually, you nod in understanding. "Alright," you affirm out loud.

  He squeezes your shoulder. "Good."

  A sharp and muffled whistle pulls your attention away. Johnny's voice is a little hard to make out, but you're able to make out "generator working" and "warm coffee".

  "C'mon," Frankie holds open the glass door and ushers you outside. "I don't know about you, but I could use a cup of coffee."

  "I could use two," you sigh.

  He gives one last squeeze around your shoulder. For a moment, it feels like you're back home. You feel a little better too. A little bit more secure.

 As you enter the room, you see that Benji, and Johnny are gathered for the usual late morning/early afternoon poker matches. 

 "Hey, prefect," Benji, the first one to notice your entrance, greets. "Need something?"

 "Have you seen my rifle?" you look around the room for any immediate sign of it. "It's been a while since I used it and I've completely lost track of it."

 "Should be under one of the floorboards here," Johnny, who is playing busy rearranging his cards, says. "If not, try the floorboards in the living room."

 You thank him and begin carefully stepping and tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards, trying to find and search one of many secret spaces made back in Ramshackle's glory days. Nothing dangerous (you hope) was ever hidden. It was mainly used by the students who lived here during its heyday to hide bottles of alcohol and cigarettes. You know, the typical items a bunch of teenage outcasts would keep around.

 There was actually a bottle of some rare and expensive wine that was left behind as the number of residents began to dwindle. You and the ghosts are waiting for the right occasion to crack it open and enjoy the vintage-like a bunch of fiends. Grim won't be having any. Hell no.

 Twilight has temporarily detached herself from your side and perches comfortably on Benji's shoulder. Her talons dig into his white spectral body, but he doesn't wince or show any sign that he's in any pain. She nibbles on his worn scarf to pass the time until you call her. Gizmo busies himself by helping you find all the secret spaces. He finds one and begins jumping over it more enthusiastically. When you pry the wooden slat up, you perk up as the familiar scent of old gunpowder fills your nose.

 "There you are!" you practically sing when you lift the board and see your trusty gun. "And here I was thinking Benji lost you."

 "I heard that!" he shouts, deeply offended.

 "I know," you reply. "Glad to know that your hearing hasn't gone out yet. Had me worried for a while, gramps."

 Johnny erupts in a symphony of loud laughter. While community and mutual respect were a value shared between Ramshackle residents, a bit of teasing and the occasional prank is always welcomed. It's a great way to keep morale up. It's also satisfying to say a remark that makes everyone laugh or have a prank go as planned. So long as no one got hurt, it's all fair game between you all.

 You lift the heavy rifle out of the space and do a routine check. The internal magazine is empty and when you probe the back of the chamber with your pinky you don't feel a loaded round inside. You flip the safety on and off and pull the trigger a few times to make sure the mechanisms are working correctly. You also do a quick count of your ammunition. While guns do exist in this world, coming across bullets is much harder than it is in your world. This is mainly due to the reliance on magically sourced bullets that help reduce the use of resources. Their rarity makes them expensive, and the few blacksmiths who do make them usually don't sell to anyone unless they feel the buyer is a genuine enthusiast of their craft. The buyer also needs to have a license to own them, which you thankfully earned after a few safety lessons and a short exam.

 Lucky for you, the one and only smith on the island who makes bullets was more than happy to provide you with some bullets at an affordable price after you allowed him to ogle your rifle for a few hours. It's an old model, supposedly used by your great grandfather after he was enlisted into the army. When the war ended and he was sent back home, he customized it so it can be used for hunting deers instead of people. Your first aunt Gia was always handling it. Whether she was taking it apart and putting it back together or out in the backyard doing some recreational target practice. 

 She always looked strong yet elegant carrying it around, not that she isn’t without it. During your first year living with her, you tried to imitate her, slinging some large stick you found out in the woods to try to exude the same energy she did. When your second aunt Lucia moved in with your cousins after her divorce, she was quick to reprimand you and confiscate any of the newly found branches you brought back home and waved around as an imaginary rifle. Your aunt Gia eventually began to teach you how to properly and safely handle her firearm. By the time your third aunt Marisol moved in after graduating from university, you were one hell of a sharpshooter and a damn good hunter.

 With the rifle now deemed safe to take to Malleus, you sling it over your shoulder and make your way out of the room. You whistle the signal for Twilight to return to your side and she immediately heeds your command. Her obedience earns her a few more bits of bacon. Gizmo also wishes for some compensation for helping you locate your rifle. You make a quick trip to the kitchen and give him a few raisins to snack on. He's the only one who eats raisins in the dorm, so you don't skimp out on him.

 Blossom does try to snag a few for himself, but a threatening screech from Twilight scares the gluttonous fawn away. That deer sure loves to eat.

"I'm back, again!" you announce as you reclose the back door behind you.

 "Welcome back, again," Malleus regreets you. "And a good morning to you, Twilight."

 Twilight also loves Malleus. She eagerly shifts her feet, desperately wanting to fly onto his arm and properly say hello. You let her transfer onto him once he slips on the safety glove you provide. After a few minutes of giving her loving neck scratches and trying to stop her from nipping at Malleus's ears (she likes them a lot and, now that you’re thinking about it, you do too), you take her back and help send her off into the air for some much needed soaring time. 

 "I see you brought your weapon," Malleus looks at your rifle with an examining eye.

 "I did," you bring it around and into your arms. "Now, why did you want me to bring it again?"

 "No reason in particular," he admits. "I just...I'm quite used to seeing you with it. You're never without it unless you're attending classes."

 A proud smirk finds its way onto your face no matter how hard you try to hide it. "I'll take that as a compliment."

 A potentially stupid idea pops up in your head. "Do you want me to teach you how it works?"

 "Truly?" Malleus looks extremely shocked at your offer. "You dislike it greatly when another person touches it."

 "I dislike it when people who don't know the first thing about gun safety touch my gun," you correct. "But count yourself lucky, because I know everything there is to know about this one right here!"

 "Very well,” he gives a conceding nod. “Have at it."

 This is the most excited you've ever been since waking up in the floating coffin all those months ago. While you aren't the biggest gun enthusiast out there (you only ever use it for hunting), you do like it when people show interest to learn about your hobbies. Ace and Deuce are teenagers, so it's no surprise that they don't exactly find the long and grueling labor that goes into gardening all that exciting. Your firearm is nothing more than a toy in their minds, though Deuce is a bit more serious than Ace is when it comes to safety.

 Speaking of gun safety. "Now, I don't mean to nag but it's important to remember that, under no circumstances, are you to ever point a gun at anyone. Loaded or unloaded."

 Malleus makes a face of confusion. "Then how come you pointed and shot at the Leech twins?"

 "Hey," you put your hands up in defense. "I wasn't shooting at them. I shot at the ground and it just so happens that their feet were near my line of shot."

 "Ah, I see," he chuckles at your convenient excuse. "So shooting near an individual is ok, so long as the bullet doesn't hit them."

 "Exactly," you wink at him. "But seriously, don't point it at or near anyone. And don't look down the barrel. Lilia nearly gave me a heart attack when I caught him doing just that."

 He closes his eyes and gives a deep nod like you just bestowed upon him a great piece of wisdom. "Duly noted."

 "Next is the magazine," you turn and pull back the bolt handle to show him the empty magazine hidden underneath the bolt itself. "This is where you put the bullets. The magazine holds up to 4 bullets, 5 if you keep one loaded in the chamber. Since my gun is an older model, you can’t pop in an external magazine. Unless you're in a desperate situation, it's best to"

 You look up to make sure Malleus is following along with your explanation. Maybe he is, but it's hard to tell when his eyes completely ignore the rifle you have set between the two of you and instead keeps his eyes focused solely on you. Your throat immediately dries up and you feel your heart begin to beat just a bit faster after it skips a beat. The look he's giving you is the same one he gave you at Scarabia, a content, and dazed smile. There's a hint of melancholy in his expression, evident by how the inner corners of his eyebrows turn upward. 

 He looks so at peace, yet so sad.

 "What's wrong?" you ask, though you know full well what's making him feel that way he does.

 He shakes his head in denial. The visual sadness goes away once he settles. "Nevermind me. Keep talking, please."

 "R-Right," you stutter. "Where was I again?"

 "You said your gun is an older model."

 "Right," you remember. "Since the model is old, it's best not to reload too quickly, otherwise you risk jamming the gun and in some cases, you might break a mechanism."

 You feel a faint vibration underneath your leg. Thinking it's your phone (now set back to vibration mode) you start to pat down your clothes to try and find the device. Surprisingly, it actually came from Malleus's phone. It keeps pulsing in fixed intervals, likely from someone calling him. He quickly pulls it out and clicks on the red reticle, sending the caller to voicemail without batting an eyelash. You couldn't see who was calling, but you swear their name started with an 'S'. Could it be Silver or Sebek calling? You hope it's not Sebek because once Malleus starts to manually decline his calls, the next person he usually rings up is-

 You feel another vibration, this time it's coming from your phone that you apparently left in your back pocket. Lo and behold, it's Sebek that's calling you. You show your screen to Malleus, who makes a dramatically loud sigh of exhaustion. Sebek...While he's well-intentioned and has his charming points, he can be a bit of a handful...

 Ok, that's too nice a way of putting it. Really, as passionate as he is, he can be a bit annoying to deal with sometimes. You're trying to be polite as you can be with him because you've been told that Faes offended easily and you're not going to be that asshole. Though, you’ll be the first to admit that he’s such an easy and fun target to joke around with. Blame the ghosts, their behavior is gradually rubbing off on you.

 His protectiveness and the deep admiration he has towards Malleus is a little quirky, even cute at times. It reminded you of a child vehemently protecting their parent from their lover, not that you and Malleus are dating or anything. 

 Why did that last part feel weird to say in your head?

 "Go ahead and answer," Malleus concedes. "I’m not entirely in the mood to listen to his shouting in the middle of the day."

 "Oh, his heart would break if he heard you," you place a hand over your fake-pained heart. "You are such a cruel man, Great and Benevolent Malleus!"

 The two of you erupt into a brief fit of laughter. After calming yourself down, you answer the phone. "Hello, you've reached the Ramshackle dormitory." 

 You have to turn away and cup your free hand around your mouth so the phone doesn't pick up Malleus's uncontrollable giggles.

  "Human!”  he shouts into the phone and you have to pull it back to alleviate your overwhelmed eardrum. “  If you would kindly put Lord Malleus on the phone, I would greatly appreciate it."

 You look over to Malleus, but Sebek was loud enough that you don’t have to mouth anything to him. He gestures for you to hand the phone over to him, but you put your hand up to tell him to give you a moment.

 "If you want to talk to Malleus, press two,” you blankly say. “Those are the rules."

  "Human! I don’t have time for your terrible jokes!"

 Malleus then gestures for you to hand over your phone. "Do as they say, Sebek," he calmly commands.

 Your hands slap against your mouth to cover the loud and ugly screech you make when you hear the loud dial noise come right after. 

 The two talk for a while. It’s mainly Malleus listening to whatever Sebek is passionately rambling about while giving the occasional hum and idle acknowledgments. At one point during the call, he looks over to you and frowns. You mouth “what’s wrong?” but he shakes his head and looks away. Once he hangs up, he lets out a very stressful sigh and slumps a bit. He’s upset.

 “Hey,” you move your rifle and scoot closer to him, giving him a gentle shoulder bump once you’re near. “Talk to me. What did Sebek say?”

 “It’s nothing important,” he continues to dismiss. “Just a trivial matter.”

 “ Malleus,” your voice becomes stern. “C’mon, talk to me.”

 He tends to downplay his troubles since he thinks they pale in comparison to the many other aspects going on in his life (being royalty can’t be easy). When it was clear that you were more than just an acquaintance, Lilia gave you a bit of advice about Fae behavior so you can better communicate with Malleus and get him to open up to you. Faes cannot lie, but they can give half-truths, and, depending on how powerful one is, they can tell white lies. It took a bit of work, but eventually, you gained enough of Malleus' trust as well as reassured him that you won't up and abandon him for simply voicing his opinions or feelings, even if you might disagree with him.

 “You first,” he says insistently.

 Also by the advice\of Lilia, you have a bit of an ongoing exchange with Malleus. For every instance he bears his inner thoughts and feelings to you, you have to tell him something about yourself that others don’t know about. 

 Have all your facts been embarrassing admittances? Yes, they have.

  “No offense, but aren’t Fae notorious for being a bit...y’know?”

  “Mischievous?” Lilia snickers.

  “Right,” you cross your arms in an attempt to provide yourself with a bit of comfort. Lilia’s casual demeanor surely isn’t helping you. “Telling Malleus all my innermost secrets is surely going to come back and bite me in the future.”

  “Well, in most circumstances you wouldn’t be wrong.” Suddenly his playful voice becomes firm and actually assuring for once. “However, there is no need for concern. I can say with certainty that whatever you tell Malleus, no matter how embarrassing or incriminating it is, will forever remain with him and him alone.”

  The old Fae pats you on the head, despite being taller than him. “He cares deeply about, truly.”

 That fuzzy feeling in your chest returns. Your hands have an itch to fidget with something to try and distract yourself. It ends up being a strand of your hair that gets blown in your face after an especially chilly gust of wind dishevels it. That’s when a small bulb lights up in your head.

 “I hate the winter,” you admit. “The long nights throw me off and I have terrible luck running into wild game when I head out into the field. Really, it's cold weather that I hate in general.”

 “Interesting,” Malleus clearly takes in and files away this new fact he’s learned in his head. “This likely isn’t a surprise, but I enjoy this time of the year.”

 “What's winter in the Valley of Thorns like?”

 Malleus, shocked at hearing your sudden interest in his home, begins to paint as detailed a picture as he can about the kingdom during the colder seasons. Greenery is a bit sparse given the Valley’s more mountainous terrain, but he insists that the thorn bushes you can find in nearly every corner of the land are beautiful in their own right. No matter the season, there’s always some amount of fog that dilutes the rays of the sun, so a day without one is often seen as a sign of good fortune by the people. Modern machinery is all but nonexistent as well, so there are no buildings, pollution, or lights to obscure the starry sky at night.

 “Now it just sounds like I’m back home,” you let out a sad reminiscent sigh.

 “What about your home? What is it like?”

 “About the same as yours, except we got plenty of sunlight and we had lush forests instead of rocky cliffs. There was a small town about half an hour out, but most of the businesses there have been around since the ’50s.” You notice his confusion as your terminology, but a brief explanation of your world’s calendar clears it up.

 “It sounds charming,” he says. “I’d love to visit it one day, should the opportunity present itself.”

 “There’s an ice cream shop down the main avenue,” you mention, knowing how much he enjoys the cold treat. “The owners even change their selections every other day, but the rainbow sherbet is the best one they have!”

 “Is that so?” he chuckles at your enthusiasm. 

 A sharp screech cuts your conversation into an abrupt close. That was without a doubt a signal from Twilight, letting you know that someone is walking up the pathway to the dorm. You aren’t expecting anyone, and Frankie is likely just arriving in town by now. You remember how Malleus seemed dejected after his call with Sebek.

 Just as you connect the dots, Malleus stands up, brushing off any dirt and debris from his clothes. “I apologize, but I must head out now.”

 “Already?” you ask with playful sadness. The fuzz in your chest dissipates into a dull ache. Weird.

 “I need to go over my guest list for my birthday once more. Lilia insisted I send out handwritten invitations to immerse myself into the festivities.”

 “That sounds about right.” After standing up yourself and insisting you’ll walk him out, you ask, “So when can I expect my invitation to come in?”

 “You want to come? Even after,” he immediately stops himself from speaking.

 Does he really think he messed up that badly with you?

 “I do want to go,” you firmly tell him. “Even after everything that’s happened.”

 There’s a brief silence between you two before he says, “You don’t have to force yourself.”

 “I’m not,” you reassure him.

 “So you say.”

 “Malleus,” you sigh. “If there’s anyone scared about our friendship dissolving because of what happened, it’s me. I’m the one that’s keeping you in suspense, even now.”

 The truth hurts, but no amount of shared laughs and the occasional antics between the two of you is going to magically dissolve the damage present. You’ve hurt him, and in a way, it’s hurting you as well. Life isn’t as linear as it was, but sulking and bringing the people around you down is a terribly selfish thing to do, especially towards someone you care a great deal about. You weren’t raised like that. You were taught to appreciate the little things and watch out for those around you. Not for personal gain, but because it was simply a kind thing to do.

 This feeling of insecurity came before the winter break. Being around so many people whose ideals and actions clash with yours often succeeds at making you think that you’re the one in wrong, that you’re the helpless and naive one. That’s far from the truth. The community you’ve built with the ghost trio and the natives on Sage’s Island is proof that your values are shared with others. 

 It’s just like Frankie said, life is just serving you a bad hand right now. You can prevail and return to the better days. The better days when you and Malleus were the best of friends. But why does your heart hurt when you think about his confession for the umpteenth time? What’s making you so hesitant? More importantly, why couldn’t you tell him “yes”, yet you also knew you couldn’t tell him “no”?

 As you watch Malleus and Sebek depart from your front door, making their way down the steps towards the front gates, you hastily announce that you’ll be back and begin running towards them.

 You need to make things right. 

Malleus noticed the way your hands sought something out to fidget with when you were feeling...he doesn’t know what that was. You weren’t feeling uncomfortable as far as he could tell. 

 Were you perhaps...flustered? 

 No, that can’t be it. You don’t think of him that way, he’s sure of now. When he quickly reassesses his behavior, he didn’t do anything that would warrant you to become nervous, other than look at you with a far too amorous gaze while you explained the ins and outs of your firearm. He couldn't help himself. Seeing you so passionate and animated, even if it's over something he has no knowledge or a particular interest in, made his heart flutter as well as ache yet again.

 They fidget with the nearest object when they feel uncomfortable. Remember that.

 “What was that, Lord Malleus?” 

 Sebek’s booming voice catches him off guard a bit, but he quickly recovers as if nothing disturbed him at all. “It’s nothing, just thinking aloud.”

 “I see. In any case,” he quickly changes the subject. “The materials needed to write and send the invitation letters are all ready. Sir Lilia insists that you write each one on your own, but I am more than capable and willing to offer my assistance should you need it!”

 “That’s quite alright. There aren’t a great many I need to send anyways,” Malleus gracefully rejects Sebek’s eager offer. 

 There really aren’t that many people who will be attending, just the residents of Diasomnia and that’s it. He initially had plans to invite you, but he’s caught between a rock and a hard place. You’ve expressed your desire to come, but he can’t help but feel that it’s only out of pity.

 He doesn’t want that from you. At this point, he just wants things to return to how they once were before he opened his mouth and began to spew a bunch of one-sided nonsense. He just wants your friendship, pure and untainted like before.

 Perhaps he’s destined to never have a friend after all.

 “Malleus!” your distant voice calls out to him, causing him to stop in his tracks and turn around to search for you.

 He doesn’t understand how you do it, but just hearing you call his name utterly burns away all the muddled thoughts circulating within his head. He is exceptional when it comes to defensive magic, yet whatever spell you manage to cast on him that makes him so taken by you, it exceeds even his own magical prowess.

 But you don’t have any magic. Not even a speck courses through your veins. You’re just an average human. His nearly crippling infatuation is entirely his own doing.

 "Oh, thank goodness you haven't made it past the front gates yet," you heaved out. Did you run all the way here? Did he forget something? He quickly pats his front pocket and feels a hard lump, his phone. It’s the only personal item he brought.

 "Human," Sebek's voice sounds annoyed at your sudden presence. "What do you need from- AH!"

 Sebek's scream hurts Malleus's ear, but the slight and momentary ring means little when you've wrapped your arms over his shoulders and pull him into a tight embrace. He immediately melts into your arms, smothering his face against the crook of your neck and taking in your scent like a desperate man. Despite the sweat you and he worked up from hours of labor, you still smell so nice, like fresh cotton and assorted herbs. It's unique. It's comforting. 

 It's you.

 "One week," you whisper in his ear. "Give me one week. I'll have an answer for you then."

 He pulls back and looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. "Pardon?"

 "I've hurt you, badly." you look down in shame. "I still am, but I'm going to make it up to you. I promise"

 "A promise made with a Fae is a dangerous thing, especially when you don't uphold your end of the deal," he says with a warning tone. "One week. Are you sure that's enough time?"

 "It is," you say with certainty.

 You're not one to lie or bite off more than you can stomach. You know when you've been beaten, that's why you called for his help over the break. His interpretation of trust differs greatly from yours, and it's not given to many, Fae or not. 

 "Very well,” he yields. “I will trust you to keep to your oath.”

 “Thank you,” you squeeze him closer against you. “And I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just please, don't break my heart any further," he whispers pleadingly into your ear.

Apologies are dangerous words to say to a Fae, even a bit demeaning to some. The same with words of thanks, which you often say to him regularly. Malleus has developed a habit of accepting them out of courtesy. It's an aspect of his culture that you struggle to adjust to since it's interpreted differently in human society. You've also told him something he finds humorous, how your aunts constantly enforced you (in your words “beat it into you”) to say "please", "thank you", and “sorry”, as they didn't want others to think they were living in a crude household. It's incredibly ironic considering you tend to swear every other sentence.

 You explained that "Thank you"s are acknowledgments of the efforts one makes for another, no matter how small or grandiose the gesture is. Apologies are acknowledgments that one has wronged another and wishes to make amends.

 It sounds like common sense, but he understands now what you mean when you tell him "It's the little things that matter most". His heart was hurt when you couldn’t tell him “yes” or even a simple “no”. He's still suffering from the aftermath of his confession, even as he signs off on the last of the invitations for his birthday party, his mind failing to commit to the enthusiastically written words. You've acknowledged that you see his pain and that you recognize that you're its source. Despite having other troubles of your own, you've made it clear that he's now been pushed up your long to-do list and that he's now your main priority.

 It brings much-needed relief to his pained heart, though just a bit.

 He waits until Sebek is gone before he rummages around his desk for a beige-colored envelope, the one he enchanted and gave to you so you can speak to him over the break (he preferred this method over text messages). It still has your SOS letter in it, written with your now aged and darkened blood.

  Malleus. I'm sorry for the smell, but it's all I have on hand. I'm in Scarabia's dorm and they're not letting me leave. I've been here for a few days to help the vice dorm leader with some sort of internal affair, but I think he did something to me that's making it impossible to refuse him anymore. I tried to bail, but they caught me and now they're locking me up and keeping a close eye on me.

  If I may be a bit bold, I'm fucking scared out of my mind. I know it's rude of me to make demands without proper compensation, but I think I need some help. I don't want to cause a big fuss, so if you can could you come alone? If you can't that's fine. I'm sure I can pull through until the break ends.

  I hope you're doing well. Again, sorry for the smell.

 He makes a few more creases in the paper due to gripping it so harshly. He remembers opening it the first time and nearly ripping it in half because of how utterly livid he was. Your fresh blood also didn't help at the time. You didn't state what your current condition was when you drafted the letter and his mind immediately thought of you being injured and that was the reason you wrote it in your blood.

 The time between him sneaking past his castle's security once he received your letter to arriving on Sage's Island via his own magic (curse the dark mirror for being inactive during the winter) is a bit of a blur. All he can remember is that he was just so worried for you, a magicless human against an entire dorm of wizards in training. Even someone with subpar control over their magic can do you a great deal of damage.

 If sneaking out of his home without telling a soul, potentially causing one of the largest search hunts to commence had someone noticed and reported to his grandmother, doesn't prove how much you mean to him, he doesn't know what will.

 One week. If it takes you one more week for you to realize this, then he will wait.

 He trusts you, just as you trusted him when you sent him that letter.

 He grabs his quill and dips the tip into a jar of ink, writing something quick and straightforward on a spare piece of parchment.

  "Please come to my party. It would mean the world to me."

 After the ink dries, he folds it and places it in the envelope, sealing it with wax bearing the crest of his family. He needs not utter a single incantation to have it erupt in a blaze of green fire. He waits. One minute. Two. Suddenly, a spark of blue fire erupts on his desk before dissipating, leaving behind the same envelope he burned minus a wax seal.

 He opens it.

  "Of course I will!"

[mulletcal]

too hot to handle - calum hood blurb.

a/n: this idea is based purely on his hands and the fact that i was watching too hot to handle when i started this. word count: 1.9k warnings: pure smut, consensual unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), light dom!cal behaviour, and choking *****

Your morning had been rather uneventful -  Calum and you had continued your binge of Too Hot to Handle, and you both were chuckling at these adults who had a hard time keeping it in their pants, saying how you both couldn’t relate.

That was, until their band’s Twitter account posted pictures from a magazine they were featured in; and all your teasing of the people who struggled with chastity went out the window.  Calum was oblivious of the thoughts going through your head, his fingers absentmindedly running through your hair as the show played in the background.  Your eyes were trained on his hands though, well the one you could see anyways, mind reeling.

Calum happened to glance down at you, his brows furrowing for a moment, “Everything alright, love?” He asked, his fingers in your hair pausing their movements. 

“Mm, just thinking,” you said softly, lacing your fingers with his free hand.

“Bout what, angel?”

“May or may not be thinking about your hands,” humming softly, you brought your joined hands to your lips, individually kissing each of his fingers before opening up his hand so you could kiss his palm.

Beginning to catch on, Calum encouraged you to sit up so you were sitting next to each other.

“What about my hands?” Cocking his head to the side, a playful grin tugged at his lips while he brushed your hair over your shoulder.  His opposite hand went to rest on your knee, trailing small circles with his.

Your grin mirrored his, your legs parting slightly in hopes of encouraging his hand to travel up further, “Just how talented you are - you can do so many things with those fingers of yours.”

Taking the hint, he slowly dragged his fingertips up your thigh, goosebumps forming in their wake causing you to shiver slightly.  Calum leaned forward, brushing his lips along your jaw, tongue teasing at the skin.

“Might have to get you to list those things for me, doll, d’know what you mean…” His tone was teasing, but his fingers pressed against your clit through the fabric of your underwear, the friction causing you to arch your hips into his touch.  “Go on, m’waiting.”

 Letting out a shuddering breath, your eyes made their way over to his that were alight with mischief, “Well… For starters, when you’re playing your bass.  You’re so talented and such a skilled bassist,” You let out a gasp as he applied more pressure, watching as he rolled his lower lip between his teeth.  “Baby please,” you whined, gripping onto his forearm.

“Please what, love? You wanted this… So desperate for me you could get off just like this couldn’t you? While I’m hardly doing anything,” His voice was just above a whisper, leaning in to press his lips against yours while you whimpered against his mouth. 

You could have screamed when he pulled his hand away, but it died in your throat when he slid off of the couch to kneel in front of you, “I was about to curse you - I was getting so close from the friction alone.”

“Oh trust me, I know, but I wanted to taste you,” Calum worked your underwear down your legs, tossing them beside him somewhere.  You weren’t concerned much with where they landed, but rather his breath ghosting over your heat. Expecting him to simply dive in, you shifted your hips slightly to give him better access - but you were surprised when he lifted his fingers to your lips, waiting expectantly for you to take them into your mouth.

You of course complied, making it quite a spectacle as you sucked his fingers into your mouth, twirling your tongue around them which only earned a groan from Calum.  “What is it that guy called them - naughty little possums? That’s what you are right now,” He teased, pressing kisses to the inside of your thighs, pulling his fingers away.

“Don’t forget also: naughty little quesadillas,” You said with a laugh, tugging at his blonde locks.

“Oh right,” He looked up at you, eyes wide, “That’s you for sure- because you always look good enough to eat.”

Rolling your eyes, you tugged on his hair once again so he could get the hint - to which he responded with a smirk before teasing his now slick fingers against your entrance, you sucking in a breath in anticipation. 

“So needy, baby.  So wet, too - who’s this all for, hm?” Calum teased, his mouth achingly close.

“You Cal, always for you,” you murmured, glancing down at him with a hooded stare.  He had such an effect over you; one minute you were laughing about a dumb reality show, but the next you were writhing while awaiting for him to touch you - but he always made it fun.  You weren’t sure if the two of you had ever been strictly serious during sex, and if anything it made you love him that much more.

At your words, he finally leaned forward to circle his tongue around your small bundle of nerves, two fingers sliding into your entrance as he did so.  Your fingers tightened in his hair, moaning softly at the movements.  It never got old, the sight of this beautiful man between your legs - even more so because your past relationships had never been an equal give and receive, rather just give.  Something about feeling so wanted turned you on even more, and you knew after his previous actions you knew you wouldn’t last long, but you also knew this wouldn’t end here.

“Fuck Cal,” You groaned, laying your head back against the couch, legs tightening against his shoulders.  Calum hooked his fingers inside of you, causing you to arch into his touch, grinding your heat against his awaiting tongue.  He moaned against you, sending electricity coursing through your veins at the new sensation. 

A borderline pornographic sucking sound came from Calum, driving your senses into overdrive.  You were close, so close, and he must have been able to feel it because he seemed to suck harder, and pump his fingers faster.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck--” You gasped, reaching your peak all at once, Calum working his fingers into you even through it all.  Slowly as you came down, he lapped up the mess you had made, pressing kisses to your thighs before he came back up to sit on the couch beside you.

“You good baby?” Calum asked with a chuckle, pressing kisses along your jaw.  You merely hummed in response, turning your head so you could kiss him, brushing your tongue against his lips.

It took you a beat, but once you caught your breath you sat forward, going to slide onto your knees on the floor before Calum stopped you, “Wanna feel you, think you can ride me?”

Nodding eagerly, you allowed him to shimmy his shorts down his legs, only assisting him when they got to his feet before you straddled his lap, grinning down at him.  A look of realization crossed your face though when you had realized you had used the last condom the other day.

“Shit, we don’t have protection,” You frowned, brushing your nose against his.  “Sorry bub, you’ll have to settle for my mouth.”

“What if we… don’t use one?” Calum suggested, nerves clouding his gaze.

“Are you sure baby? I’m okay with it, but we just hadn’t talked about it… Or the implications--”

“I’m all in if you are, love,” His lips pecked yours, and you responded with a grin, turning your attention then to your hips and rolling them against his.  Calum hissed, gripping your hips and resisting the urge to take control entirely.

You reached between the two of you, taking hold of his length to line it up at your entrance, eyes meeting his one last time for his consent.  When he nodded, a small smile on his lips, you sank down slowly.  The familiar stretch made you moan, lowering yourself until Calum was fully bottomed out.  You both took a moment, sharing small kisses, hands exploring over still clothed territories. 

When you felt adjusted, you began to rock your hips against his, drawing a soft moan from his lips. He couldn’t keep his hands to one place, they roamed from your ass, to your hips, up your back, and into your hair.

The room had grown silent now, except for the sounds of your blended moans, the show had long since switched to the ‘Are you still watching?’ page not that either of you cared at that moment.

Calum could only hold off for so long before he began raising his hips to meet yours, the pace gaining speed as soon as he shifted to do so.  You let out a whimper when he hit the right spot, angling your hips so he could drag across that spot on repeat. His calloused fingers held onto your thighs, grip so tight it would likely leave bruises in the morning; not that you cared much anyways about his marks.

Calum bit his lip, breathing laboured as he looked up at you, “Wanna try something princess, but if you don’t like where it’s headed you use your words okay?”

You nodded, curious to where this was headed.  It didn’t take long for you to find out, Calum’s hand sliding up your body, fingers coming to wrap around your throat while holding no pressure.  “Figured since you liked my hands so much, you might like this.”

“Yes,” You gasped, hands going up to grasp at his forearm to help balance yourself, his opposite hand still steadying you as your hips moved together.

Calum applied the lightest bit of pressure, just enough to send your head spinning, moans increasing in frequency.  Smirking, he leaned in to your ear to whisper, “My baby likes that, hm? Always knew deep down you were a lil wild.  Gonna cum for me, princess? Show me how much you like my hand on your neck?”

You slumped forward slightly, trying to get more friction of your hips against his, wanting to feel that spot inside you that would ultimately send you reeling, “Cal, shit.” Hands leaving his forearm, you grasped at anything you could reach to help give yourself momentum to fall over the edge.

Calum’s fingers left your throat, going back to gripping your hips so he could snap his hips into yours with all the force he could.  A gasp fell from your lips, unable to move anymore while Calum took control.  Burying your face in your neck, you felt tears prick your eyes from all the overwhelming sensations, his name falling from your lips over and over as you reached your high.  He continued to fuck you through it, whispering praises in your ear before ultimately reaching his peak as well.  His warmth filled you, overtaking all your senses as you felt wave after wave of affection crash over you for the man underneath you.

The two of you sat in the silence, both of you breathing heavily in a vague attempt to catch your breath.  Calum tapped your thigh gently, signaling you to move from him.  You whimpered at the loss of him though, and he pecked your lips before he ran to get a warm washcloth to help you clean up.

“I think we’d go broke if we were on that show honestly, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” Calum wiggled his hands at you in a teasing manner at the word ‘hands’, causing you to smack his arm in response.

“D’know baby, Kelz was lookin’ pretty damn good,” You giggled, and it was met with a pout on his plump lips that you couldn’t resist kissing. 

tag list:  @haikucal @talkfastromance4 @softbabiestan @boyfriend-cal @calum-uncrowned @wildflowerirwin @irwindoll @gosh-im-short @atlcalm @thesubtweeter @heavenisapeach @ridingcthood @loveroflrh​ @wokeupinjapanisabop @mantlereid​ @inlovehoodx​ @irwinkitten @sexgodashton

[likelyrowdy]

Something Better

"I can guess." Another kiss stole your lips before you could come up with a witty retort. "But I had something better in mind."

Nero x AFAB reader

Read it on AO3

Nico sped off as soon as you were clear of her van. She had somewhere to be, and it was just as well; for as much as you loved the glib mechanic, all you wanted was some well-deserved rest after a successful hunt. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped over the threshold and into the stale air of the empty office, lightly kicking the door so that it hung ajar long enough for Nero to pass through it unimpeded.

“You want to grab the shower?” you asked as you hopped onto the desk. “I’ll call Morrison.” Someone was supposed to call Morrison after each job to let him know that it’d been taken care of, divulging all of the necessary details so that he could tally the expenses, follow up with the client, and collect the money so that the hunters got their cut and Dante kept the lights on. The broker’s number was punched into the old rotary phone before the offer fully left your lips.

“Nah,” Nero exhaled, rounding the desk and dropping into Dante’s chair. “I’ll wait for ya.”

You kicked your legs up and spun to face him, fingers curled in the phone cable. When his fingers tapped against your knees you let them fall apart so he could pull himself closer.

Gooseflesh rose in the wake of fingers skimming up your legs, the glint in his grey-blue eyes betraying his intentions. He was still keyed up from the fight. You both got like this after a solid mission. Not the spats that Nero insisted you both take most days – jobs that paid diddlysquat and Dante refused because they didn’t sound like they’d put him six feet under –, but a real job with a real fight that made fear catch in your throat and adrenaline surge through your veins and victory burst tangy-sweet across your tongue like a clementine in summer. Instead of ending the call, you drew it out. A coy smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you talked Morrison through the less-relevant details of the job.

“Yeah, that’s everything, but while I’ve got you on the phone: I was wondering if-.”

Nero plucked the phone from your fingers and dropped it onto its cradle with a half-hearted, "Bye, Morrison." A giggle escaped you as Nero rose and wrapped his arms around your waist, his touch more insistent as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, short hair tickling your jaw while kisses peppered your collarbone. One of your hands skimmed up his back and around his shoulders to hold him close, the other laid flat against the desk to prop you up.

“So rude,” you admonished with a teasing gasp, not at all upset by the turn of events.

“Me?” he asked between kisses as he inched his way up to worry the skin below your jaw between his teeth. “What about you? Didn’t need to tell Morrison half of that shit.” A nip. “You were ignoring me.” An accusation, teasing and true though it may be. Well, you certainly couldn’t ignore him now – lips and teeth and tongue lighting a small fire beneath your sweat-salty skin – but you could still try to drag it out.

“Can’t a girl-?” The kiss that shut you up sucked the air out of your lungs and sent a familiar tingle down your spine.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Nero shook his head, pulled you to the edge of the desk and stepped forward to eliminate what little space he’d allowed between you while you were on the phone. “I can guess.” Another kiss stole your lips before you could come up with a witty retort. “But I had something better in mind.” His lips quirked into a lopsided, seductive smile and you eagerly nodded your compliance, dropping all pretenses and steering his lips back to yours with a hand cradling the back of his head.

Between your lips blossomed a needy noise and you were both gone. Nero’s hands alternated between kneading the supple flesh of your thighs and drawing circles into it, his palms warm even through the layers that separated you. Releasing his hair, you trailed both hands to the collar of his jacket where you clumsily pushed the offending garment down until it bunched around his elbows. When his hands did finally release you, it was only to rid himself of the constrictive fabric. Without breaking the kiss, he surged forward, tipping you back in his eagerness even as his arms held you in place, and briefly you wondered if there was enough room for the two of you atop the desk.

Disappointment flashed at the very back of your mind when Nero stopped short of straddling you. Instead, you settled a heel into the small of his back and drew him further against you until the undeniable evidence of his desire pressed firm against the apex of your long legs. Another noise reverberated between you when your hips ground together and you smiled, teeth clacking together before Nero broke the kiss.

Lightheaded, you kept your eyes closed and gulped great breaths of stagnant, office air – ozone, propellant, sweat, and something uniquely Nero. Suffocating. Completely intoxicating. You tipped your head back and groaned when he seized the opportunity to work a dark bruise into the pale skin of your exposed neck. With a satisfied rumble he licked your purpling skin as if the tender treatment would ease the sizzle of his brand on you, then gripped your chin between calloused fingers and brought you in for another deep kiss.

You heard it on the tail end of a moan. The heady buzz you’d wrapped yourselves in unraveling.

Blue Rose was drawn before you could reach for the hunting knife hidden in your boot.

“I was wondering how long you two were going to make out before you realized you weren’t alone.” Completely unfazed by the revolver leveled between his eyes, Dante popped the cap on his beer and tossed it in the general direction of the trash bin.

Nero scowled at his uncle and holstered his weapon. “How long’ve you been sitting there?” Dante shrugged. A while, then. You gave Nero a quick squeeze before dropping your legs from his hips and to the floor. He gave you just enough room to stand before he pressed your foreheads together, the smile on his face meant for you and you alone. “Guess we got a little carried away.”

“Oh, don’t stop on my account.”

“Fuck off!” He glared over your shoulder at his uncle, then grabbed your small hand in his. “C’mon, we'll take this upstairs.”

Dante propped his feet up where you sat mere moments ago, already settled into his regular seat behind the desk as you were led away. “Don’t forget to use protection, kid. I don’t need any more brats running around my shop.”

Nero spun as his temper flared. “Something wrong with your hearing, old man? I told you to-!”

“Ignore him,” you soothed, squeezing Nero’s hand.

“And try to keep it down, will ya?”

Nero grit his teeth, but you turned him back to you with a hand against his cheek. “Ignore him.”

“But-”

“Look: if you want to stand here and argue, be my guest. But I thought you had something better in mind.”

And if Dante heard you, he could get fucked. You certainly did.

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 11

The Art of the Crash

CW: bbu and everything in relation to that, drugs/alcohol (explicit), noncon drug use, aftermath of drug use, vomit mention, food mention, discussion of noncon, dubcon kissing, conditioned/trained responses from whumpee, brief mention of suicide (vague), dehumanizing language/themes (let me know if I missed anything!)

Gio slept well into the afternoon the next day. Nicko let him, he knew from experience with Rory that there was an inevitable crash that followed the highs, and he'd spent quite a few days ignoring her sleeping body on his bed, usually it ended in her getting up only to vomit and then cry to Nicko about how shitty life was. So this time, with Gio, he waited in the bedroom with him until that happened. He finished the painting he'd started the night before. He had to refrain himself from waking Gio up to see it. Then he sat on the floor and sketched more, using Gio's face pressed against his dark pillow case and the dull light of sun through snow clouds dancing across his face as inspiration. He didn't draw the bruises or the hickeys, found himself strangely jealous over them both. He kept the tattoos, because those belonged to him, and Giovanni's adorable crooked tooth, and his messy, wavy hair that splayed out across the pillow and his face. Nicko couldn't wait for him to wake up so he could draw him with bed head.

When Gio finally woke up, it wasn't to throw up or to complain about the nightmare of his life crumbling around him, not that Nicko would've blamed him, but to the sound of some music that Nicko had put on quietly to help him focus, deciding to work on some long put off art assignments. Nicko didn't notice that he woke up, and Gio rubbed his eyes just a little and glanced over Nicko's shoulder to see the bright array of colors across his page, dark marker scribbling purposefully against the paper. He was enthralled for a moment, then he turned his focus up to the large canvas he'd caught a darkened glimpse of last night, and he gasped sharply.

Nicko swiveled around to look at him, eyes blown wide like seeing Gio conscious was jarring. It made him wonder how long he'd been out. "Oh. You're awake."

Gio glanced at him for a second, then turned his attention back to the painting. The painting of him, sleeping in bed, lost in a world of blankets. He pushed himself up to his elbows with a wince. "Is...is that me?" He whispered.

Nicko looked back at the painting in question, smiling bashfully to himself. "Uh, yeah. Yeah you were just...you look nice in my bed." He fought the blush creeping up his cheeks, the embarrassment was uncomfortably new. He didn't know why he was embarrassed, just that suddenly he was the one who couldn't make eye contact with Gio. The switch in dynamic was painfully tangible to both of them, with Nicko on the ground, cheeks rosy and face turned away, and Gio sitting on the bed, looking down at him. With a yawn, Gio pushed the blankets off of him and stood up.

Nicko watched him closely, surprised that he hadn't hurled already. Then, as if on queue, he closed his eyes and swayed forward, bringing his hands up to his head with a groan. Before he can tip over, Nicko is up on his feet next to him, placing strong hands on his shoulders to hold him steady. "Are you ok?"

Gio dropped his hands, blinking a few times before squinting up at Nicko. "Dizzy." He looked a little dazed, his face pale, and Nicko crouched down on the floor, gently pulling him down with him. Gio easily knelt, body soft and easily movable, as always. Once Gio was all the way on the floor, hunched over just a little to make himself smaller, as if he wasn't already pathetically tiny already, Nicko ran his hand up his neck, across his jaw.

"I'm gonna go make you something to eat. Ok? You wait right here."

Gio nodded eagerly, towards Nicko's hand, his huge vacant doe eyes gazing up at him through his curtain of hair. Nicko had been right, his curly hair was framing his head in a dark halo, and he had a sudden sense of urgency to get some food in him so he could draw him. Nicko smiled at him, patting his head softly as he stood straight.

Salem was in the kitchen when Nicko came out, and they both froze awkwardly in their places when they saw each other. Nicko nodded at him as he passed, opening the fridge and grabbing a bowl of fruit and a protein shake, then deciding last minute to also palm a bottle of water. When Nicko shut the fridge, Salem was standing a couple feet away watching him.

"He woke up?" Salem asked.

"Yeah. I think he's ok, just hungry." Nicko hesitated, they both looked at each other, then away, then Nicko sighed. "You wanna come? I think he'd like to see you."

Salem lit up just a little, straightening his posture and smiling to himself. "Sure."

When the door opened, Gio flinched upright from where he'd been leaning over just a little, looking at Nicko's sketchbook, at the cartoonish portrait of a woman he had been drawing. He turned to see Nicko standing in the doorway, Salem a couple steps behind him. Gio couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

They both came in and joined him on the floor. Nicko opened the bowl of fruit and set it in front of Gio, but he wasn't paying much attention, watching Nicko's face apprehensively. He knew from observing that Salem and Nicko weren't particularly fond of each other, he'd heard them fighting before, and he was a little worried to show any attention to Salem in case it came across as disloyal. He couldn't afford anymore mistakes, when it came to Nicko.

Nicko sensed it, and opened the water bottle and forced it into Gio's hand as he said, "Salem was waiting for you to wake up like a kid on Christmas. He missed you."

Salem laughed awkwardly, shifting where he sat. "Yeah. It sucked not having anyone to show my lame music to."

Gio was grinning ear to ear at them both, but he said nothing. Truthfully, he didn't really understand what they were talking about, didn't remember what Christmas or lame meant, but he was happy to have them speaking to him anyway. Salem only stayed for a few minutes, then he told them he had to get to class. When he said goodbye to Gio, he gave him a soft pat on the top of the head, like Nicko kept doing, and Gio smiled up at him as he left. Nicko wondered why Salem wasn't Gio's favorite. He was at least nice.

Once he was gone, Nicko picked up a block of fruit, mango maybe, and gently coaxed it into Gio's mouth since he hadn't eaten any yet. Then he reached for his sketch book and his pencils, moving so he was squared up to Gio, who looked a little nervous when Nicko's pencil started scratching across the paper.

"So you were with Rory, huh?" Nicko asked. He kept his tone light, he knew that Gio was anxious enough around him already, could see his face get a little more horrified every time Nicko's voice was a little too loud, too harsh.

He nodded stiffly, only once, then moved very slowly to eat a strawberry. He knew Nicko was drawing him, he was trying to be as still as he could be. He was too cute.

"And how was that?"

Nicko thought he heard Giovanni huff in disdain at the question, and he looked up to see his face screwed up in a tight frown, like it pained him to think about. Nicko sighed, then kept drawing.

"You can tell me as much or as little as you want, Gio. It's just...you don't look too good. I just want to know how she hurt you so I can help." His pencil froze on the paper when Gio reached up and covered his eyes for a second, then he hastily dropped them back to his lap like he remembered he was supposed to be sitting still.

"She told me she was gonna bring me back," he whispered, voice trembling painfully as he thought back to that day, how stupid he was, "she wouldn't tell me where we were going, but she just kept saying she would bring me back before anyone noticed I was gone."

"Ben called me right after you left, I think."

Gio frowned at him. The entire time he'd been wishing that Ben would come out and stop Rory from taking him, and he had called Nicko right after he left? Why did he wait? Gio bit back his frustrated tears, then continued on.

"We went to this guys house. Oscar." Gio flinched as the name passed his lips, then shook his head to himself. "The entire time we were driving she was drinking and smoking, and so I was too. I tripped at some point and made my nose bleed, so he let us in so Rory could clean me off. Then she was talking about...about buying something. From Oscar."

Nicko knew the name, he'd met him only once before, but he knew that he was huge and even more of an asshole than Nicko was. He was the one Rory always went to for her hard shit, which Nicko hated so he hadn't accompanied her after the first time. He stopped drawing altogether, setting his sketchbook down and moving closer to Gio, who was now shaking all over.

"She didn't have enough money, I guess, and uh...um." He couldn't look at Nicko anymore, turning his head away from him completely. He couldn't bare to see Nicko's face when he admitted to the horrible, unfaithful things he did. Giovanni knew he belonged to Nicko and only Nicko, and he was absolutely disgusted in himself for having allowed Oscar or Rory or the motel owner or any of the others to do what they did to him. "He wanted her t-to pay a different way."

"Oh, shit, Gio."

"Only she didn't want to," he continued, "and she was scared, and I didn't want her to be scared so...so when she asked me to do it instead, I-I did."

Nicko was stunned into silence, eyes instinctively dropping to the mess of hickeys all over Gio's frail neck. It was heartbreaking, thinking of Gio feeling the need to protect Rory like that, especially when he was the one that needed protection. It was even more heartbreaking to think of him under Oscar, who Nicko had no doubt had ripped Gio to shreds with their size difference.

Gio was only more frightened at Nicko's lack of reply. Silence meant anger, silence meant that Master was thinking very hard, something Gio was too stupid to do, and more often than not, silence meant brutal, meticulously planned punishment. So Gio did what he was best at: he started to beg.

"Sir, I'm so sorry, I know I'm yours, I shouldn't have ever let them touch m-me." He looked up at Nicko, then his composure broke and he let out a tiny whimper before crawling over to him. "L-Let me make it up to you, sir. Please, use me, let m-me be good for you. Please le-let me-"

"Gio, stop." Nicko was flustered by Gio crawling right up between his legs, trailing his trembling fingers over Nicko's leg suggestively. But all of it was happening rather quickly, too quickly for Nicko to react well, and Gio was freaking out, for whatever reason, so all he could do was sit still. And what was this "them" that Gio was talking about? Had it not just been Oscar that Rory handed the box boy over to? He wanted to ask, but he couldn't form the words, not when Gio was on his knees inbetween Nicko's legs.

"P-please! Please, sir. Wan-wanna be useful." Now his hand was brushing tentatively at his belt, over his zipper, and then Nicko reached down and snatched his wrist up tightly in his hand before he went any lower. Gio gasped, snapping his head up to look at Nicko. He was closer than either of them had realized, now that they were face to face they were inches apart. Gio's eyes were glazed over with something Nicko hadn't ever seen before, something that made them soft and dulled down more so than usual, but simultaneously had a sad glimmer of tears over it. Nicko had thought the huge, spaced out gaze Gio did at him sometimes was his version of puppy dog eyes, but that paled in comparison to the way he was looking at him now. Nicko would never admit it out loud, but it drove him absolutely crazy, to have someone looking at him with such gentle desperation.

"Stop calling me sir." Nicko instructed after a moment of silence. Gio didn't break his gaze, he only blinked a few times, and then he nodded. "I want you to say my name, when you beg like that. Alright?"

Giovanni melted in Nicko's grip, leaning forward just a little closer. "Nicko..." he breathed, and that was all it took. Nicko dropped his wrist and took his face in both of his hands, drawing a small whimper from him.

"I don't want to take your clothes off or use you, or anything like that." He whispered, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against Gio's. "I just want to...try something. For one second. Ok, Giovanni?"

"Please, Nicko."

Gio held his breath right before Nicko kissed him, focusing on keeping himself still and soft and good for Nicko, but it all went out the window once their lips were actually pressed together. Gio had been burning for this since the first time Nicko had kissed him, but he was too afraid to ask and Gio always seemed to make him regret it anyways, so he didn't think there was much use hoping for it. And here he was, with Nicko holding him close, kissing him, just kissing him, and he was so nervous he was going to mess it up and not be good enough at it to make Nicko want him.

Nicko pulled away from him after only a couple of seconds, he laughed when Gio huffed in obvious displeasure. But he was calmer now, not panicking and calling him "sir" and saying all of those...other...disturbing things. So Nicko was satisfied.

"I seriously think you should eat, darling." He trailed his fingertips over Gio's jaw as he spoke, slowly pulling his hands away. "I'm worried you're gonna blow away if we go outside."

Gio sank back to sit down where he had been, picking up the bowl of fruit again and watching his hands tremble as he picked up another piece of the sweet orange-ish fruit Nicko gave him earlier. He couldn't force himself to put it in his mouth, knew he wouldn't be able to chew and swallow over the huge lump in his throat. Why didn't Nicko want him? Why wasn't Gio good enough for him? Maybe it was arrogant of him to think he was good enough, he should be humble, he should just keep trying harder until he actually was. But truthfully it wasn't hurtful because he thought he felt deserving, it was hurtful because he was scared. He wasn't good enough for his old master, he wasn't good enough for Rory, he wasn't even good enough to keep his old life. And he loved Nicko so, so, painfully much, he had finally found somewhere mostly safe and his master was perfect and if he wasn't good enough again then maybe Rory was right, and he should just give up, find a way out, like she said.

Nicko got a little freaked out at the way he could physically see Gio's crash start, he was a little unnerved to see his posture sink in a little, his throat bobbing up and down as he tried not to cry. He could see his thoughts spiraling, realizing that, damn, life kind of sucks, and it kind of always has and what if always does? By now, Rory would be a blubbering mess.

As if reading Nicko's mind, Gio started to sniffle, trying again to press the fruit to his lips, still unable to bite. If he opened his mouth, he might make a noise, and he just wanted to stop messing up already. But then, Nicko was sitting in front of him, gently grabbing his hand and taking the mango away from him, setting it back in the bowl for him. Then he grabbed Gio and pulled him into his lap, holding him close.

"You're ok, Gio." He told him. "I know, it hurts, I know, but I'm here, I've got you."

Giovanni let out a soft mewl, trying without much strength to squirm out of the comforting arms. He was terrified of the gentleness he so obviously didn't deserve, knew it could easily be used against him later. "I was so soft with you earlier," the warm body would say, "Don't you want me to do that again? I will, if you do this for me."

But this wasn't just a warm body, it wasn't his old Master, it wasn't the couple of guards who would visit his cold, concrete cell late at night long after training was over, it was Nicko. And Nicko didn't even want him in that way. Why didn't Nicko want him that way? "Nicko, please please u-use me. I-"

"Shh, Gio. I don't want to do that to you."

"Why?!" He sobbed out, fingers tightening into tight fists around Nicko's shirt. "Why d-don't you w-wa-want me?!"

Nicko gasped at his outburst, reflexively tightening his grip around him just a little. "Giovanni...I...shit. It's not about what I want, it's just that it would be, uh, different, with you. Like it wouldn't be the same as sex with a regular person cause you're uh...trained for it."

Just like that, the boy grew rigid and stopped shaking, leaning away from Nicko as much as he could. He just had to be reminded of his place, that was all. Nicko didn't want him because Nicko was a person, and Gio wasn't. Maybe Nicko just wanted him as something to practice art on, whether it be with the tattoo gun or painting him on a canvas or sketching him in his little notebook. As much as that hurt Gio, to know that he wasn't human enough for Nicko to want him back, he could live with being useful in that way for him.

"I'm sorry," Gio looked away from Nicko and up at the huge painting of him a few feet away. Nicko had done a wonderful job on it, he made Gio look small and pale and broken, like he was and felt he always would be. But Nicko had also done a good job of showcasing Gio as alone, swimming in an ocean of black fabric, isolated and untouched and useless. Like he was, and felt he always would be. "That was...out of line. I'm sorry."

"Gio, c'mon. Don't... Don't be all sad now. I do like you, I really do. I think you're the cutest thing ever." He reached out and grabbed onto a piece of his hair, twisting it somewhat playfully. "And you're a real good kisser, too. Honestly." Gio looked up at him, and Nicko grinned at him, trying to elicit some sort of positive reaction. Finally, Gio cracked a small, halfhearted smile, dropping his shoulders from how tense he was. "But I don't want to have sex with you cause it...you know, it means something different to us. You understand?"

Gio nodded slowly, forcing himself to take a deep, ragged breath. "Yeah, I understand."

Nicko leaned forward just a little and placed a soft kiss into his hair. "Good boy," he mumbled, "now eat your fruit so I can finish drawing you, yeah?"

The smile on Gio's face was genuine that time around, and he sat a little straighter. "Yes, Nicko." So Gio sat still, he watched Nicko scribble against his paper while glancing up at him every so often, and he ate his fruit. It wasn't what he wanted to do, but that didn't matter, he did it because he was told to, because Nicko wanted him to. Gio had once been told, in training, that as long as his master is happy, he should be to. He was seriously starting to wonder if he was broken, because it was seeming like he couldn't be happy at all, even as Nicko smiled at him over his notebook.

[writingsbychlo]

put her together again (06)

word count; 6299

summary; mitch goes to a therapy session, and hates what happens to you whilst he’s there, and hates himself even more for the role he plays in it.

notes; y’all, I gotta make one thing clear - I know irene comes off really awful, but think about how much she’s got to sacrifice to be able to save all the others.

warnings; anxiety attacks, and references to the following; child abuse, electrocution, imprisonment, stealing, and violence.

Mitch wasn’t sure what he had been expecting you to be like before a therapy session, but it wasn’t like this. Then again, this wasn’t your usual therapy session.

You were on edge, that much he could tell, but it wasn’t on edge in a way that he was used to. He’d seen you in many moods, all the way from the very first time that he’d met you as you’d been coming at him with a gun and a pocket knife, and a look in your eyes that read ‘no mercy’. He had seen fear in your eyes before, on the nights when you’d awoken in a fit of screams and tears, thrashing as your legs were tangled in your blankets until you’d rolled from the mattress so violently you’d hit the floor with a loud thud and he’d been rushing in to pick up the pieces and put you back together before morning. 

He’d seen you upset, both in the ways you let it out, tears in your eyes and a cracking voice when you’d been taken back to your parent’s house, the realisation and resurfacing of who you were being prominent in your mind. He’d also seen the version upset when you tried to hide it, when you’d been told that you were being moved out to your own place, even though you’d voiced how you didn’t want to leave him, or the betrayed look on your face when he’d been able to return after an entire week, leaving you to think for a whole seven days that he’d abandoned you.

Mitch had even seen you angry, in the way that was utterly terrifying as you sat with clenched fists until you’d cut crescent-moon shaped marks into your palms as the furrow between your eyebrows created trenches, moody and snappy on days when your drawings wouldn't come out quite right with the way you were picturing things in your head, or the when you would slip up in the way you regressed to yourself, when your progress took a tiny step backwards for all the steps forwards you took when you were tired.

This was nothing like any of those moments, though. 

This was chilling. It was calm and collected but unsettling quiet. It was a simple breakfast, with no music or dancing, and only the sounds of cutlery and tinkering pots and pans to break the tension, occasionally muttering underneath your breath. He was sure you could hear the grinding of his teeth as he listened to you remind yourself of who you were. Your name, your address, his name, your birthday, the gym you went to, your coffee order. Everything that made you who you were, making sure it was kept at the front of your mind, that nothing was slipping, and he absolutely hated that such a thing wasn’t something you got to take for granted like he did, that you lived every day in fear that it would all go away, slip from your grasp and slip from your life. 

He ate his food quietly, choking back the urge to speak up or reach out, to offer you comfort and reassurances, because he knew just how badly you needed to stick to your routines, just how much they meant to you, and therefore, he knew that interrupting you and messing them up for the slightly selfish actions just to put his own churning stomach at ease could have disastrous results on your anxiety, and your fragile mindset.

He watched as you slipped away, taking his plate when he was done and offering him a small flick of the lips upwards, but you had barely met his eye at all this morning, and he could count the total words you’d spoken to him since waking on his fingers, and he figured he was already disrupting your rituals before your cognitive hypnotherapy sessions just by being here, but that he couldn't compromise on. He had to see it, he had to know that Irene was looking after you, that you were being cared for the way he would, that they weren’t using you as a source of information and draining you down more than you could handle, sapping you of all energy until you were just a hollow and broken shell. Not when he’d worked so hard to save you, and helped you to build that life that you so truly deserved.

With dishes washed and left out to dry, you slipped away without a word, your back to him as you wandered down the corridor to the bathroom, the door clicking shut, and a second later, the water heater had been humming lowly inside of the cupboard and the sound of water thrashing against the bottom of the tub, disrupted by your body joining the mix. He was left alone, to wander your bedroom and find some of his clothes, dumping the spare ones in your laundry hamper and knowing that you’d keep them and wash them, and he’d find them in the exact same drawer the next time he came over. 

You were wrapped in a robe when you emerged, a little startled as the two of you met in the doorway, but for the first time that morning, you offered him the same kind of affections that he was used to. Your shoulders sagged, stiff tension dropping away for just a second, before you were slipping your eyes shut, leaning in enough to bump your forehead to his shoulder, twisting your head to rest your cheek in its place, and he could feel your short puffs of breath against his skin.

“I’m sorry.”

He wrapped an arm around you, squeezing tightly enough that you sighed out against him, your body slumping into him a little further. 

“These mornings are always weird, it just puts me on edge. I’m not purposefully shutting you out.”

Turning to rest his chin atop your head, Mitch let his own breath go slowly, fingers running over your arm lightly. “I know that, and I understand it. You don’t have to apologise.” You only nodded in response, your hand coming up to sit on his waist, fingers curling in the material of his top as you allowed yourself a final moment to cling to him, to forget where you were going and what you were doing for a few seconds more, and when you shifted a little, he loosened his grip, chuckling as you hesitated in your movements. “You should get ready, Irene will be here soon.”

You backed away, closing the door as he left to have your privacy, and once again, he was shut out from you as you slipped back into your tightly locked state, protecting yourself against your circumstances. He busied himself, little jobs he knew you would’ve done yourself later but he could help you with now, putting away your dishes and plates and making sure everything as neat and tidy, the perfect way for you to come home to after you were shaken up from having someone digging through in your mind and shifting through your every memory and thought for the information they wanted, discarding what they didn’t as though it didn’t matter, like it wasn’t something just as vital in what made you who you are.

Drawers opened and closed, the creaking of floorboards as you wandered around, before the humming of a hairdryer was taking up, soothing enough to him with the ticks and shakes it made for him to use it to steady his own heart rate. This morning - this day - was all about you, he was just here to support you, but the few moments of singular reprieve he got to calm his own nerves and try to get past his own anxiety was more than eagerly welcomed, needing to collect himself so that he could be the strong one between you both today.

There was a soft knocking at the door, and he smirked a little, wandering over and taking his time in undoing the locks, before he was opening it up and offering an openly fake smile to the woman before him, who fixed him with a scowl in response. “You’re here.”

“I said I would be. Eight sharp, yes?”

“Shame. I was rather hoping we’d get to leave you behind.” He scowled at her then, being sure not to move out of the doorway to invite her inside as he reached for his shoes, a hand on either side of the doorframe to tug on his shoes, before his coat was following and he was sticking his arms out in jerky movements to pull the sleeves up, blocking her from stepping into the apartment as she huffed. He knew he was being childish, but the glare she gave him upon having no further actions or responses was more than enough to justify it, in his opinion. 

They were locked in an intense stare-down when you finally emerged, clearing your throat, entirely unaware of the aggressive anger between the two, and you were pulling a warm coat up your arms. A pair of his sweatpants and a simple top, a knitted cardigan with black speckles in cream-coloured wool was sitting on your body, before you were slipping on your shoes, staring at them both expectantly.

“I’m ready. We can go.”

“Great, Mitch can take his own car.” It was a more chipper voice than he had ever heard from Irene, and he scoffed as he watched you lock the front door, a hand on your lower back as he guided you along, choking down the lump in his throat as he picked up the shake in your body as your nerves got the best of you.

“We have another, today?” The therapist jutted her chin out in Mitch’s direction, despite her gaze being locked with Irene’s, his superior only giving a curt nod, and you were lingering in the doorway, picking at the loose threads of your cardigan. “Come on in, (Y/N). Sit yourself down.” She was friendly enough, and you seemed to accept her words as such, shuffling your way over to the couch after hanging up your coat, and you settled down in the middle, laying out one of the pillows to lay downwards instead, and reaching out across the wooden surface to pour yourself a glass of water. “What about our guest?”

She turned to him now, and he cleared his throat, smiling politely as he offered her his hand, his name following, and she shook it gently, before his boss was making her presence known once again. “Rapp is here to observe, he won’t be interfering.”

It was like one of those times your parent inadvertently spoke to you while pretending to be polite in front of others, and he felt like he was being chastised by his mother for being loud and obnoxious in public, the woman nodding her head towards one of the chairs in the corner that he could sit on. You were sipping on your drink, eyes following the every movement of ‘Doctor Lindsay’ as she sat across from you, legs crossed as she leaned forwards, everything about her body language being relaxed and soothing as you sipped at your drink.

“Are you ready to begin?”

Your eyes flicked up to his, not looking for permission or support, simply as though you’d almost forgotten he was there, shocked a little by his presence, and the silence in the room felt stifling, before you cleared your throat. “I’m ready.”

“You remember all of the questions, and the routine we’ll be going through?”

“Yes, Doctor Lindsay, I remember.” Your voice was steady, emotionless once again, and a shudder went along his spine. Your eyes seemed duller, your lips in a neutral frown, and he felt like he was meeting you for the first time all over again. Crossing his arms over his chest in a protective manner, Irene leaned over the back of the couch as you lay yourself down, head propped on the pillow you’d laid out and legs stretched out all the way to the end. 

“I want you to listen to my voice. Just my voice, okay?” You let out a slow breath, and Mitch found himself copying your movements, exhaling slowly in a mimic of what you’d done, and the rigidity of his muscles gave way a little. “I want you to focus on your breathing, and on your heart rate. Slow, in and out, as slow as you can go. Let it all go. Focus on your heartbeat.” 

You licked at your lips, taking a final deep breath, and holding it in your lungs, and he could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his eyes, clenching his eyes shut as he tried to clear his mind, shaking it all away and bringing himself back to consciousness as her soothing voice and simple commands began to get him to slip into a haze place as well. She had an iPad out, bringing up a simple panel of controls, before the lights in the room were dimming considerably, and the hum of the heaters came to a stop, air conditioning taking its place, and the one above his head sent a sudden wave of cold chill into the darkened room. The blinds were closed now, so far that he had to squint to still see you, and he muffled the yawn he wanted to release, wrapping his arms tighter around himself as the temperature within the room dropped.

“Unit eight. State your location.”

He felt bile rise in his throat, the cool and commanding tone to your voice, and your entire body suddenly locked up, that tranquil calmness you’d gained while studying your own heartbeat was gone, your hands forming fists by your side and your body going stiff, and he could see the last bits of who you’d become slip away before his very eyes; “Unit eight is in the dorms, ma’am.”

“Which dorms, unit eight? Which building are you in?”

“Units are not disclosed that information, ma’am.” She nodded her head, humming to herself as she placed the device down, her and Irene sharing a look, before a voice-note recorder was being turned on, only a blinking light to signal that it was active. 

“How old are you, unit?”

“This unit was born eight years, one month and six days ago, ma’am.” She was happy with that revelation, shifting in her chair, before her tone was going slightly softer once again. 

“Can you tell me what is happening, right now? Tell me where you are, what you can see and feel and hear, what are you thinking?”

“I-I see the dorms. My bed, the sheets are scratchy, I don’t like how they feel when I sleep on them, it makes my skin feel itchy. I can hear the guards, they’re changing any minute now, the ones outside the door are getting impatient. There’s plastic, smooth, clean, and cold.” Your fingers twitched a little, your hand moving as though you were holding onto something, and then there was a laminated playing card slipped into your hold, your fingers flexing around it. Your thumb stroked over the material, before you were letting out a sudden gasp. “It’s quiet, now. The showers are running, that’s where the other units are. They’re good, I want to be good, but I don’t like it here. I don’t like it here, please, I don’t like it here.”

You were choking up, voice childlike and cracking as you spoke, slipping between the way he’d known you to refer to yourself as, and a child who didn’t know any better, the inner monologue of a frightened youth who was being made into a monster. “Focus, unit eight. It’s quiet now, why?”

You sniffled, gripping the plastic in your hand again tightly. “The guards are gone. It’ll be forty-six seconds before the others get here. The rounds are changing.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it’s time to go.” There was a finality to your voice now, determined and adamant like a petulant child, before you were taking a deep breath, body jerking slightly from your feet and upwards, as though you’d jumped and landed on them harshly, and he imagined that was from the impact of hitting the floor as you jumped down from bunk beds. 

“Tell me what you’re doing, unit eight.”

“I’m looking out of the window in the door. It’s small, I can’t see much, but I can see the hall. It’s clear. I remember the way, from training this week. I remembered. The second left, the first left, the third right, then straight ahead until I get to the big grey door.”

“Correct. How do you plan to open the door?”

“I stole a keycard. I have to go. I have to go now!” Your voice was becoming more frantic, and then, it all seemed to kick off. Your arm jerked, the one holding the card, as though you’d swiped the card over the door and opened it. Your legs twitched, jerking with each step as your breathing became shallow, like you were running, laboured and gasping as you went, and your entire body was shifting from side to side, up and down, subtle movements, but a considerable amount of twitching nonetheless. You were mumbling directions to yourself, marks you remembered, passing the labs and the gym, as well as the cafeteria, before a cry left you. “No, no, no!”

“What is happening now, unit eight? Tell me what’s happening.”

“There’s an alarm. It’s only been half a minute, they shouldn’t know I’m gone yet! The lights are red, and flashing. It’s loud, it hurts my eyes and my ears.” He knew what they were approaching, Irene had explained it all to him after choosing to travel with him on the drive over. You hit a wall, you got to your escape, and they knew you made it outside but then your mind closed in on itself, and you were lost to them. As soon as you could tell them what happened on the other side of the door, they could track the location, but you never could. “I’m confused. I lost count! I don’t know where to go!”

You sounded broken, and his heart clenched for you, standing up a little straighter and Irene turned her gaze to his own immediately, a silent glare that screamed at him to stay put, and he had to bite his tongue just to stop from making a comment and telling her to back off. Clearly, they were used to this, they must’ve seen you like this a dozen times, but it didn’t hurt him any less.

“The second left, the second left.” You were mumbling to yourself now, panting as you spoke, your chest rising and falling quickly. “The first left and the third right.” Your body was twitching again, like you’d run the route through in your mind and remembered where to go, before you were letting out a cry again, this one sounding a little more victorious. “The big grey door!”

“Have you found the door, unit eight?”

“Yes! Yes, I can make it!” Your arm moved again, before you were shaking, once along your body, and the temperature in the room went down again, even colder, and he assumed that wherever it was you were being kept at the time must’ve been somewhere icy. Irene turned on the fan beside you, harsh winds blowing silently over your body, your hair moving around lightly with the strands that framed your face. Their bodies both sagged as you cheered, before your face was falling again, and you were beginning to let out sobs. “They found me. They found me! It’s too slippery, I can’t make it! There’s too much snow, it’s too much!”

Irene ran a hand through her hair, the plastic dropping from your hands as you began to scrabble, breathing desperately and as your knees jerked, cries and whimpers leaving you as he watched your body shift in diluted movements of climbing and falling, trying to drag yourself along. You were hyperventilating, you were panicking, shutting in on yourself and you couldn’t take it anymore. “Can you tell me what you see, unit eight?”

You only let out another cry, and he watched as the therapist reached for the device, Irene standing up robotically and already reaching for the switch on the fan again as he decided enough was enough, your words mixed with desperate drags of breath and shakes as you got stuck in the cold. 

“That’s enough. Stop it, you’re breaking her!”

“Rapp!”

“Unit eight is-” Your words cut off, Irene letting out a sigh as the flashing light on the device was taken off, Doctor Lindsay’s entire body deflating, and he didn’t care about how much they needed this information, or how much trouble he would get into, he just needed to be there for you right now. His hand found yours, and you whimpered under your breath, before you were squeezing his hand back. “Mitch, it’s so cold. I’m so cold. I’m scared.”

“I know, sweetheart, it’s okay. I'm here with you.”

“Hold on.” Irene’s hand shot out, her mouth agape a little, and the therapist seemed just as shocked. “Continue on, continue!” The device was turned back on, and he adjusted himself on his knees, opening his mouth to protest before the doctor was speaking over him. 

“Unit eight, can you tell me what’s happening?”

“Mitch, they’re here! I’m not fast enough, I’m so cold!” Tears slipped out of your eyes now as you gripped at his hand, and he winced as your nails dug into his skin, scratching as you scrabbled. “No! No, please, no!” Your back arched up off of the couch, a violent motion that made everybody jump back, a loud shout tearing from you, one of the most broken and distressed sounds he’d ever heard.

“Get her out! Now!”

“No, we’ve never gotten this far!” Irene yelled back, uncaring of being delicate now, not wanting to break the trance, her desperation for the information taking over. “Ask her, Mitch, ask her what she sees! She’s responding to you! You’re in her mind deep enough that even her subconscious is seeking you out for comfort, you’re helping her keep going.”

His nostrils flared, but he knew he had to do as told, and so he turned back to you, a shaky hand brushing away your tears gently, before you flinched violently, pulling away from his touch. “Sweetheart, can you tell me where you are? What do you see, tell me about it? How would you paint it?”

“Paint it?”

“What colours would you use? What would it look like?”

You steadied your breath, relaxing slightly as you gasped, wet breaths as more hot tears slipped down your cheeks. “White. There’s so much snow, and there’s grey, too. Looks like there’s a storm coming.”

“You’re doing so good, keep going for me.”

He brushed a hand along the edge of your face, and you tipped into his warmth a little, your mind instinctually searching for him, his heart skipping a beat in his chest as you did. “Green. The trees are tall, so tall they block out the sun, there’s shadows, and the woods look dark, but I can’t take the road. It smells like Christmas.”

“Pine trees. There are pine trees.” The therapist's words were drowned out as you continued to whimper quietly before him. He shushed you gently, watching as you continued to fight, but your shivering was calming a little.

“Tell me about the building.”

“I can see it now, I’m almost at the end of the garden, the fences are broken, I broke them last week so I could get through.” He nodded, waiting for you to continue. “It’s a big warehouse, not like the usual houses. There are lots of colours on the side. Drawings.”

“Graffiti?”

“Yes.” You mumbled this word, going quiet, and suddenly your whole body is stiff. “They’re too close. I can’t go yet. I need to hide. Mitch, we need to hide.”

“Okay, sweetheart. We’re hiding.” You hummed, and he could see your eyes darting around under your eyelids, breathing held, and he rubbed his other hands gently over your ribs, coaxing you to take a breath before you hyperventilated. “Tell me about the drawings, what are they?”

“Not drawings, it’s words. It’s a warning.” 

“What does it say?” You were getting frantic now, whimpering under your breath as a child would, and he felt sick to even be partaking in this, but you were so passionate about it, he knew that if you were of your own mind right now you would have told him to keep going, and you’d already told him how much you wanted to help the others. He needed to know that he could make you safe, that he could use this information to make sure he brought down whatever organisation had ruined you, and make sure they’d never harm you again.

“Берегитесь Ахмеровского леса, он проклят.” Beware the Akhmerovsky Forest, for it is cursed.

“Is that Russian? Did you get that?” He’d almost forgotten about Irene and the therapist, but she confirmed that she’d got it, the blinking device being waved in the air, and the two women looked elated, before he growled, cutting them off and drawing their attention back to him. 

“Great, now you’ve had your fill of picking through her mind, can you bring her back?”

“Unit eight, can you hear me?”

“Mitch! Mitch, they’re coming!” You were whispering now, your hand clenching around his as your entire body went stiff, and he opened his mouth to reply, before a loud shout left you. Your entire body jerked, head to toe, and you were sobbing now, shouting and crying out for help, his name mixed in along the pleas and begs. “No, no, I’m sorry! Please, no! Mitch! Help me! I’m sorry!”

You were struggling to breathe, tears flowing from your cheeks as your legs kicked, your arm flying out so fast he barely had time to avoid it, and your glass of water was knocked to the floor, water spraying everywhere and glass shattering on the wooden tiles with a cracking sound that made him wince. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

“Mitch! Where are you? Mitch, please!” Quite possibly the worst scream Mitch had ever heard sounded out, blood-curdling and enough to make him feel the clenching of his stomach. Your hand was limp in his now, before it was flying up to grip at your ribs, and your breathing struggled. The cushion under your head slipped from the couch, your body twisting to the side, curling into the fetal position as you spasmed, like you were being beaten, and he could feel his own tears leaking from his eyes now.

Irene was shouting, authority and power in her voice, but it was no use, because among the white noise was Doctor Lindsay, trying to get through to you, every keyword and trigger break the two of you had was flailing from her lips, but you weren’t even responding to his voice anymore, panting and whimpering as you relieved each blow and beat in your mind. Finally, you stopped, crying to yourself quietly, and Mitch thought maybe that would be the entire scene, that would be the only fuel to haunt his sleep for the next few months, but then, you were scratching at your chest trying to breathe as it seemed you couldn't even get the oxygen into your lungs, what he knew well as a panic attack was forming.

“No, please, don’t lock me away! I’ll be good, I promise! Please!”

You were making fists again, knuckles white from the intensity of it, and he reached out to try and uncurl your fingers before you cut into your palms, but you jerked away from him. Your back left the couch, your entire body shaking and vibrating in a way he knew was a form of electrocution, and he clapped a hand over his own mouth to stop the noises he wanted to make from being released.  

“Don’t leave me here! I’m scared, it’s dark! Please, don’t leave me!” You were getting worse now, a clammy sweat lining your skin as your body began to go entirely calm, each organ shutting down and becoming sluggish as the panic took over, but you still couldn't breathe, that part of you was still in overdrive as it failed to work. “Please!”

It was the last word to leave you, before finally, you were able to take a deep and gasping beat, everything going silent as your mind gave in, passing out on the couch as reliving the panic attack made you short circuit, giving up to reboot as it all became too much.

It had been hours, Mitch eventually having moved to sitting on the couch beside you, your legs across his lap after repositioning the cushion under your head. After it was all over, the quiet was more deafening to him than your screams had been.

Sprawled out on the cushions, you had looked utterly exhausted, panic and stress still stitched onto your features, your hair messy from your thrashing with flushed cheeks, but he figured the slow breaths you were taking was a good enough step, calm and quiet taking over the room. Irene moved first, motioning the therapist to go with her, and the two had stepped out of the room. At any other time, he would’ve followed them, demanding to know what information it was they were exchanging, but right now he was willing to let them have their confidentiality, because he was more concerned with your well-being.

He smoothed back your hair, lifting your head up to place a cushion underneath, and he couldn't resist the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, mumbling an apology into your skin for letting this happen to you, and for being a part of it. He comforted himself by knowing that you were happy, he soothed his own nerves by pretending that he knew how much you wanted this and that it excused the way he’d acted, but it didn’t. He should have fought harder to refuse, and he should have fought harder to resist Irene’s demands, or to pull you out while you were listening to him. 

You’d had to relive the event that had been the final breaking of your spirit, the final piece that had made you into an obedient soldier who would do as told, and when you’d subconsciously put enough trust in him not to shut down, he’d made you go through it all. He felt awful, and so as the hours dragged on and the light faded away, the therapist and his superior having left you both alone a long time ago, he was still sitting here, waiting for you. 

The dimple between your brows was gone, smoothing out, and the frown that seemed so reply embedded had faded, your face was simply left blank, chest rising and falling slowly, and it was enough to tempt him into a serene level of calm himself. 

His head was resting against the back of the couch, eyes closed as the turning of the ceiling fan made him feel dizzy, and so he’d opted for complete darkness instead to block them out. With a hand smoothing over your leg, he waited patiently, head snapping up when he finally felt a more solid twitch than everything else had been. 

He watched again, your nose scrunching up a little as you began to surface, and your lips parted, a deeper breath than the even ones you’d been taking as you slept, and his lips flicked up at the sides as you began to rise back up out of your unconscious. Suddenly, just like that, the peace was shattered once again. You let out a loud cry, fists clenching again before you were screaming, letting out a stuttered call of his name, followed by a sob, and he couldn't get to his feet fast enough. 

He was kneeling by your side, skin growing damp from sweat once again as he tried to cup your face despite your thrashing, and you sat bolt upright with such speed that he felt backwards, banging his elbow on the coffee table and hissing out in pain as he grabbed it, but his attention was solely on you. Your eyes were glossed over and filled with tears, once that promptly began to leak down your cheeks, fast and heavy tears that dripped away to leave marks on your clothes, and he tried to swallow down the lumps in his throat as he watched you. 

You still seemed a little dazed, staring off into space, and you jumped violently when he cleared his throat, as though you hadn't even known he was there until you were looking at him. Fear and panic became anger, and he almost flinched under your glare as you backed away from him, pulling your knees up to your chest as you pressed back into the cushions. 

“You left me!”

He gaped, staring at you in shock, before hurt was washing through his body again, the tone of your voice breaking him, each crack and wave as you stared at him, sniffling sadly and clinging to yourself for support. Shifting again, he moved, taking a seat beside you on the couch, and you didn’t move any further away, but you refused to meet his eyes, and he let out a deep sigh. 

“It got bad, and you left! You left me alone!”

“It wasn’t real, sweetheart..” You cut yourself off before even saying your next words, raising your eyes to look at him, before you were whimpereing a little under your breath, and he tried to inch a little closer to you now. 

“It wasn’t?”

“No, it just felt real.” He offered a hand out, placing it on your knee slowly as you watched him go, but he smiled a little when you didn’t push him away or back off, your tense stance slipping away a little as exhaustion too over, the fight or flight instinct slipping out of your body and leaving you with nothing but aches and pains, and very tired. “I promise, I would never leave you. I’m sorry I helped them, but you did so well, sweetheart, and now you’ll never have to do it again.”

“It’s all over?”

“It’s all over.” You only nodded, wiping your cheeks on your sleeve, and he could see how sensitive and sore the puffy skin must been, your eyes red, just like the tip of your nose, and he watched as you seemed to process the information, cogs working inside your mind as you became yourself again.

“You won’t leave me?”

“Never. I promise.” You let out a slow breath, before you were uncurling your body and slumping down onto the couch cushions. He offered his hands, standing and pulling you to your own feet, and your legs almost buckled underneath yourself. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.” 

You grinned a little at that, and he didn’t realise just how much he’d been longing to see that expression on your face again until he was seeing it now. He helped you put on your jacket, and grabbed his coat, patting down his pockets for his keys, tugging them out as you signed your name and the time in the visitor book at the front reception, mumbling a goodbye to the friendly receptionist who wished you a good evening, before you were on your way with him out of the clinic. “I just want to go home, now.”

He wasn’t sure you even knew you’d said the words, but he nodded anyway, holding the car door open for you and letting you hop up into the seat. 

He quickly followed your actions, and he couldn’t get away from the therapy practice fast enough, watching in his mirrors as it faded away into her distance, until it was blocked by other buildings and he could no longer see it, finally feeling like he could relax fully. You were safe, and conscious again, and he knew you never had to go back. You’d forgiven him, and so maybe now he could forgive himself, and he felt like the white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel could let up. 

You were playing with the music channels, settling on a classical music station, the low notes of piano and guitar filling the vehicle, and it was soothing to say the least, feeling like each little melody helped to lift away his fears and wash it from his mind, and you were hypnotised by the headlights of other cars, watching as they flashed by along the roads as he took various turns, before you were sitting up a little straighter, staring out of the glass at the road.

“No, no, Mitch. I want to go home.”

He turned, glancing at you quickly, and fixing you with a puzzled look, but you didn’t see it, staring out on the garden with concern once again. “That’s where we’re going, you live here.”

“No, I don’t want to go to where I live.” You reached over, your hand resting on his arm, squeezing urgently as he slowed down the car. “I want to go to our home.”

Mitch felt his heart leap in his chest, lost for words for a second, before he was only nodding, driving right past your building and picking up speed once again, and he didn’t miss the relieved noise you made as he did. “Okay, sweetheart. We can go home.”

[tenderlyrenjun]

[2020 A.D.]

“Hey, pay attention.”

Renjun smacks your inner thigh after he sees you staring at his eyes, more focused on him than the words he reads for your mutual art history class. 

He chose an art degree and you a medical degree, yet somehow you two share a course for his major, instead of something like chemistry or calculus, which would benefit your degree but also satisfy his general education (yeah, you had an assistant prep you on college requirements; this era is so different from the Song Dynasty). In his mind, since the course details go further than your lifespans, starting at pre-history, Renjun thought that the new material would be fun to learn. Well, more than the computer basics class he forced you to register for. You still need to get a little (a lot) better at technology - hence the study session. He only wanted to start with cave drawings to remind you that this should be an enjoyable experience.

But first you have to pay attention.

And he flicks you again, because you still just stare at him.

You scrunch your forehead at him, simultaneously pushing him off your chest in retaliation. Studying anatomy would have been a better decision, you think as Renjun falls back to you, grabbing your neck to draw you in a sweet, long kiss, another persuasion, you know. Exploring the body has to be more exciting than staring at your lives in a textbook. Although, the way he reads it like an epic, inflecting different parts of his melodious voice, is enough to make you watch.

“How can I [pay attention]?” you ask, breathless (to which he rolls his eyes - dramatic), blinking slowly at his lips - they are too far away now. “You make history sound so pretty.”

Renjun slides his hand on your cheek, a tender gesture that he made more habitual in the last 900 years. You lean off the pillows to grant him better access, and he leans on your shoulder in return, complimenting the romanticized Cleopatra and Marc Antony. He stares at you for another minute, until your fingers curl around his palm and you kiss it.

“You made history pretty.”

“Are you trying to get me to look through the text for some pictures of us?” you ask wryly. He shrugs innocently, taking his hand back. You sigh, pulling the textbook (and him) closer. Renjun nuzzles his head up your chest, resting gracefully on your collarbone as you recline against the padded headboard for support. You flip through the glossy pages, looking as forward as the Impressionist era - your time in France was ... passive-aggressive, so you close the book and hug your lover, combing the hairs over his eyes.

“Shall we study something else?” he whispers, tracing the velvet sheets below you. He gradually wakes up, lifting his chin toward you for a better look at your answer. “Hmm?” he asks again. You cup his face one-handedly, pressing another gently kiss on his perched lips, suggesting another typical young adult experience, one that you have done countless times outside the constraints of college. Upon another embrace, when he opens his mouths and you extend your tongue, he murmurs again: “How’s that whole getting to know mortals thing going?”

You put a hand on his chest, swallowing back your spit, relenting for a moment to play along with his college fantasy. “I made one friend.” With your eyes still closed, you go in for another kiss, failing to see him to look up at you - not that it stays, he equally returns your embrace.

“Tell me more,” he asks of you, actions becoming embolden as he crawls over you, planting his hands by your waist.

“His name is Nana,” you whisper, equally enamored as he takes the upper hand that you give him. “He wants to be a surgeon too.”

“Hmm, too?” Renjun smirks, his hands coming onto you now. For someone with many reservations against his ten-year plan, you sure as hell put a lot of work into it. He finds it incredibly sweet of you, and right now, he tells you how sexy it is when you indulge him.

You nod your head, eagerly anticipating more of his enthusiasm; perhaps giving him more details of your day will do the trick: “Pediatrics, not cardiothoracic.” You thought that studying the heart would be easy, considering all the centuries you spent ripping them out. “He somewhat reminds me of Jaemin.”

Renjun nods, understanding, then he kisses down your jaw, to your neck, using his tongue to gently tap at the very visible jugular (well, at least to his vampiric sight; he attributes it to a love tunnel vision though, slightly more romantic). You almost push him away, down, wanting less noticeable bite marks. He should give you another set of bites below the ones already on your rib cage. You can pass that off as a planetary convergence tattoo. Although, this is a little unfair. If he drains your body now,  you will have to feed again and so soon, likely incapable of stopping until you deplete a hospital’s reserve or slaughter an apartment complex. 

“I miss Jaemin,” you confess unexpectedly. Your friend is not gone, unlike Xiaojun, who you still think of here and there, but ever since the Na Clan (also known as the Elysian Coven, in more elite circles) assumed power in 1400, enforcing vampire law, Jaemin has been consumed by traditional politics. The only time you see him is when all coven leaders are required at meetings, otherwise Renjun sees him twice a year for updates. They only last three days, or else you join them, out of fear for another mistress situation or from sensing crises. 

Renjun hovers above you now, licking your lips rather than the column of your neck. He kisses you once, twice, three times, slipping his tongue on your mouth, feeling around for your fangs. When they grow in, matching his, he pulls away, sitting up.

“We can go see him this weekend, if you want.”

You prop yourself on your arms, glaring at him. “No, we have school and work to stay on top of.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, kissing you again. “Okay, then next month.”

“Why not the weekend after?”

“I got invited to a frat party.”

“What?!” 

You shove Renjun off you. That is not fair. “You wore a suit to class. How the hell did you get invited to a frat party?”

“Hey!” Renjun shoves you back, jokingly, his smile poorly restraining a laugh. “Because I’m nice.” He sits up, pulling you into his lap by your waist, close enough to ghost his breath over your lips, still smelling like AB negative. “And I actually know how to talk to people.”

“Oh bite me,” you jeer, rolling your eyes, hands squared over his shoulders. He opens his mouth to taunt you in return, but you pout at him, changing the mood. His endeared smile never changes though, always maintaining the same look in his eye as the first night he met you - which should tell him that ... “I know how to talk to people!” Renjun gives you a look, pulling your bottom lip to get you to tell him the truth. “Okay, fine. I haven’t, in awhile, but I still made a friend today.” You grab his shirt, thumbing the cotton material between your fists, while you pout at him. “Be proud of me.”

Renjun takes the initiative, takes your build up, coming closer. “Always,” he whispers, then kisses you, rolling you over in the sheets for a long night. Without the textbooks.

[thehouseoflamentation]

Wanting What Isn’t Yours (Mammon x MC x Levi) Part 2 - NSFW

For Leviathan, waking up the next morning was just as awful as trying to fall asleep. He was certain he passed out somewhere along the line last night but it still wasn’t enough to quell the restless feeling that clung to the back of his mind. He knew he’d get an earful from Lucifer if he missed breakfast so he mustered up all his energy and dragged himself off towards the dining room. As soon as he took a seat however he felt his heart sink once again. The rest of his brothers had yet to make it to the table so instead he got to sit alone and enjoy the sight of you and Mammon flirting and feeding each other breakfast. He wasn’t hungry to begin with but now he had completely lost his appetite. That should be him sitting next to you! Laughing and flirting and eating together. Why did it have to be him? Why did Mammon always get to be the center of your attention? It just wasn’t fair.

Levi could feel his grip tighten on the fork in his hand before letting the utensil fall back onto the table. He wanted you to feel the same way he felt about you but then again he didn’t exactly have much to bring to the table. If he really wanted you he would have made his intentions known that fateful night and yet here he was forced to witness everything he’ll never get to experience. Having to bottle up his emotions all while pretending everything was alright was just too much to bear. As soon as he cleared what was left on his plate he got up and trudged back to his room locking the door behind him.

He didn’t have any classes that day so he planned to binge on games and anime until his frustrations subsided. Unfortunately for him he couldn’t enjoy ten minutes of peace before he heard a knock on his door. Letting out a deep sigh he got up and opened the door only to find you standing on the other side. Knowing what went down last night he couldn’t look you in the eye. His lips trembled as he stuttered and asked you why you were here.

“Levi did you forget our chat a couple days ago? You said you were free today and wanted to try a new game with me. Are you still free right now or...”

He had completely forgotten about your arrangement but at this point he couldn’t just turn you away. Muttering a soft “Sure, come in” under his breath he let you in and shut the door. Maybe this was his chance. The two of you were finally alone in his room with no Mammon in sight. He might as well make the best of the situation and take his shot. Handing you a controller, Levi turned on the game and took a seat beside you. Soon the minutes that passed turned into hours as the two of you progressed through the game. Levi was less tense than before but he knew that would all change once he made his move.

As the game faded into a cutscene he stared at your hand just inches away from his. He could have sworn he heard his heart beating in his chest but there was no way he could turn back now. With one last deep breath he paused the game and took your hand in his before turning to face you.

“MC I know this is sudden but...I haven’t been honest with you or myself lately and I need you to know that I-I...I like you! I want more than just this pact MC, I want you... ”

As his words trailed off Levi moved closer, his forehead pressed against yours while his lips hovered just centimeters away. When he finally closed the gap he couldn’t help but take advantage of the kiss by pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to finally kiss you but here he was living out his fantasy and it was so much better than anything he could have asked for.

Unfortunately, wanting what isn’t yours rarely ends without consequences and Levi was soon going to learn that. Just as he pulled away from the kiss, the irritated sound of someone clearing their throat caught your attention. Mammon stood at the doorway, clearly pissed at seeing his brother locking lips with his human. He took a step forward and slammed the door shut, his eyes shifting between you and Levi as he drew closer. With one quick movement he gripped Levi by the collar and dragged him away from you, forcing him onto his feet.

“Levi you bastard!!! The one day I’m out for class and you think you can just TAKE WHAT’S MINE?!??”

It was rare to see Mammon this mad but it made no difference to Levi who simply wrenched himself out of his brother’s grip before shouting back in response.

“Yeah well you KNEW I HAD FEELINGS FOR THEM TOO!! WHY DO YOU GET TO HAVE MC ALL TO YOURSELF!?!?? IT'S NOT FAIR!!!!!!”

Each of them had shifted into their demon forms by now but before things could escalate any further you jumped in between the two of them.

“STOP!!!!!!! I’m not letting you fight over something like this!! I trust both of you, I made pacts with both of you, and I LOVE both of you but if you’re just going to fight then I might as well be with neither of you!!!”

Your words shut them up in an instant. The last thing they wanted was for you to hate them so they took a few seconds to regain their composure before they did anything they might regret. They were still far from being calm but that didn’t stop you from throwing your hands around both of them, pulling them into a hug before planting a few chaste kisses on their cheeks.

“Now if you’re done making a scene maybe...we can have a little fun instead?”

Their eyes widened in shock once you said that. Mammon knew exactly what you wanted while Levi blushed at the thought of it all. Your hands slipped out of their embrace as you got on your knees in front of Levi eagerly undoing his belt while Mammon undid his own. Once they pulled their pants down you began palming them through their boxers savoring their moans as precum started to stain the fabric. Seeing you kneel in front of them got them hard in no time and soon they found themselves wanting more. After getting rid of the last piece of fabric separating them from you they each took one of your hands, prompting you to keep stroking their cocks.

“Hehe...see? Sharing isn’t so bad now is it?”

As if to prove your point you give Levi’s head a few kitten licks before doing the same to Mammon drawing out another set of moans from the boys. You could feel them getting close so you decide to ramp things up a bit. Pulling away from Levi you turn your attention to Mammon, your hands on both his hips as you suck him off. As expected it didn’t take even a minute for Levi to start whining again. Despite your effort to keep both of them happy you had to admit it was cute seeing him so needy.

“MC come on that’s not faaaaaaiiiirrrrr!!!!! Y-You said-”

Without taking your mouth off Mammon’s dick you slid your pants down along with your underwear. You were now on all fours, your slick entrance plain to see. You gave your ass a wiggle signaling Levi to get behind you.

“I’m sorry Levi, what was that about being unfair?”

You stopped servicing Mammon just long enough to tease Levi one last time before he mounted you. His hands gripped your hips before moving to squeeze your ass as he started pounding into you. You weren’t sure if it was his lack of experience or his desperation that made his thrusts so erratic but neither you or Mammon were complaining. Everytime he rammed his hips into yours you took Mammon deeper and deeper down your throat. It didn’t take long before they started reaching their limit along with you so you decided to finish them at the same time. You could feel your core tightening and when you had just barely reached your breaking point you backed your ass up against Levi’s dick taking him as deep as you could while he released inside you. You didn’t let Mammon go either as you deepthroated him and swirled your tongue against the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock. Both of them wouldn’t let you go until every last drop of their load was in you. When they finally pulled out the three of you collapsed on the floor as the smell of sweat and sex permeated the room.

Now sandwiched between the two of them you giggled to yourself before kissing each of them again, this time on the lips. They were certainly a handful but all three of you were happy and honestly what more could you ask for?

Epilogue

When you went back to your room that night you heard a knock on the door just as you were about to hit the hay. A familiar silver haired demon let himself in just as he did every other night.

“Soooo....how was my acting back there? Looked like I woulda ripped him limb from limb huh? Hehe, seeing him with you like that I just might’ve ya know!!” Mammon chuckled to himself and sighed as he took a seat on your bed.

“Well I’m glad you didn’t but in all honesty thanks again for agreeing to let him join. He seems a lot happier now or at least more than he usually does.”

“Hmp I woulda said no but I can’t really resist spoiling ya now can I? Well whatever as long as you remember who your first was then I guess I can’t exactly complain too much.”

You scooted to the side of your bed giving Mammon some space to lie down beside you and drape an arm around your shoulder. The avatar of greed could only share so much of you before he wanted you to himself again.

“So MC?”

“Hm?”

“Since he was only mad at me… I take it Levi doesn’t know about Beel joining us in the kitchen that night?”

“.........”

“I’M GONNA TELL HIM”

“DON’T YOU DARE!!!!!”

[nvvermore]

Came In Close

Amaryllis spends an evening with Vissenta, and later has a moment with Julian

[Takes place before Just Ask by @vissenta-senadz]

words: 1456

NSFW: light bondage, mutual masturbation, implied face sitting, feelings

accompaniment

—

The tension between Amaryllis and Vissenta and Julian never went away. Not after the first night they all had together, and only got more intense after the second. Amaryllis had told themself after that there would be no more nights.

But they couldn’t possibly hold themself to it, not when Vissenta looked at them like that and the flush Julian responded to all their taunting with. Amaryllis was incapable of resisting them, incapable of denying their offers to come up with them at the end of the night. Even if each time they obliged the couple, they only fell deeper and deeper.

Now, Amaryllis was visiting with Vissenta at the home she shared with Julian, who was still busy at his clinic. The two magicians were sitting side by side, Amaryllis peering down at Vissenta’s hands as she sorted out her deck. They had only caught a glimpse of the spread she was using, but she had quickly swiped the reading away before they could recognize it.

Amaryllis didn’t ask, just silently took their place next to Vissenta. As their feelings for her— and Julian— became stronger and more complicated, they found they had less to say. They weren’t pulling away, but interacting with the couple in the same manner they always had with everyone else superficially felt wrong.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Amaryllis reaches for Vissenta’s mussed braid. Gently, they begin to undo it, their pale fingers running through her dark strands. Vissenta draws in a sharp breath when they drag their nails lightly across her scalp. Her hands still, no longer shuffling the cards.

Amaryllis decides now is the time to break the silence.

“So, have things become any clearer for you recently?”

Vissenta doesn’t answer, not right away, instead just letting her eyes flutter shut and relaxing against their hands. They were content to wait for as long as she needed, continuing in their attentions to her hair.

“They have,” she finally says, “maybe even too clear.”

Before Amaryllis can inquire further, Vissenta’s lips are on theirs. It’s startling, but if it's what Vissenta needs from them, they’re happy to oblige.

Their grip in her hair tightens, pulling her into them, opening her up with their tongue. The desperation from Vissenta was a different kind than normal, her need for comfort standing out to Amaryllis.

“Vissenta, chérie,” they pull away, “let me take your mind off of it then.”

“That might be difficult, considering it’s always on you.”

Amaryllis tries to mask their surprise. “I- then, let me take care of you.”

“Upstairs.”

Once in the bedroom, with Vissenta on her back and Amaryllis over top of her, as they try not to think too hard about being up here with her.

This time, Amaryllis goes slower than they normally do with her.

They kiss Vissenta’s lips until she’s gone boneless beneath them, working open her bodice little by little. By the time they’re finally slipping her dress down, ruby lips brushing over all her newly revealed skin, she’s panting.

“Already so wound up just from a little kissing?” they taunt once she's entirely bare before them.

“Don’t tease me,” she pouts.

“Oh, I haven’t even begun to tease you yet.” Their fingers trail down her torso, stopping just short of where the dark curls between her thighs start.

“Amaryllis…”

“Why don’t you be a good girl, and tell me exactly what you want?”

“I want to feel you.”

“My hands are on you, my lips were just all over you, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Against me. You’re wearing too much clothing.”

“Am I? I think I’m wearing just enough, I look wonderful.”

“You look beautiful,” Vissenta says, just a little too earnestly, and their stomach does a flip. “Now take it off.”

“Since you’ve asked so nicely…”

Amaryllis steps back, dark gaze never leaving Vissenta as they slowly unbutton their collar. On the bed, she props herself onto her elbows to get a better view of her private show. Their fingers dance at the hem of their dress, lifting it a little at a time. When they’ve lifted it to their hips, the lack of anything else underneath it is obvious, and Vissenta lets out a quiet moan.

“You like that, chérie?”

She spreads her legs. “See for yourself.”

“Oh, I will.”

Amaryllis continues their strip tease, taking their time peeling off their dress and rolling their stockings down. They settle down in between Vissenta’s still spread legs, laying over top of her, pressing against her as much as they can to oblige her request. Red lips capture hers again, and when she tries to touch them, Amaryllis pins them above her. Fingers ghost down to slip into her folds and Vissenta gasps.

Amaryllis pulls back from her, retreating to the other side of the bed. Vissenta pouts and moves to follow, but is pulled back down against the bed by an invisible force.

“I told you I hadn’t even begun to tease you.” Amaryllis leans back against a pile of pillows and spreads their legs for her to see. Lazily, they run their fingers down their body, one hand going to pinch at a nipple and the other trailing down between their legs. “Maybe I’ll just leave you like this. Make you watch me get off to just looking at you.”

It doesn’t take very long for Vissenta’s begging to win Amaryllis over today.

“Touch yourself,” with a flick of their wrist, Vissenta’s hands are freed, but she’s still anchored down.

“You said you’d take care of me. I can do this without you,” she groans.

“But do you want to do it without me?”

Vissenta watches Amaryllis watch her, hand drifting down to rub at her clit. They’re sure she can see how wet they are for her, how effortlessly they slip their fingers inside. Across the bed, they can see the way Vissenta’s toes curl and eyelashes flutter in pleasure.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Amaryllis commands.

“You tying me up for real, to the bed, to a chair, rigging me up somehow, anything. Making me taste you while I can’t move an inch, can’t do anything but lay there and take it.”

Amaryllis hums. “You want to taste me?”

Vissenta nods. “Please,” she moans. Amaryllis pulls their fingers out from inside of them and crawls over to Vissenta. They slip them into her mouth, eagerly licking up every drop of them that she can get.

“Good girl. Now come for me, and I'll let you taste as much as you’d like.”

- - -

Hours later Amaryllis wakes. Vissenta is still cuddled against their front, cheek on their chest and arm slung over their hip. But now, there's an addition of another presence against their back, and their first instinct is to seize up.

“Darling, it’s just me,” Julian whispers, punctuating it with a kiss on the top of their head. He slides his hand around their waist, pulling himself tighter against them. “I was trying not to wake you two, but I’m home now.”

Something about hearing the word ‘home’ while in Julian’s arms, with Vissenta in theirs makes Amaryllis all misty-eyed. They should probably leave, surely Julian has had a long day and just wants to snuggle up with his wife, and here they are, literally in the way. But he’s not kicking them out, but bringing them closer, his lips ghosting across their neck. They must have been sleeping so soundly to not have heard him come in, and they can’t remember the last time that’s even happened.

Amaryllis blinks their eyes open and turns their head back to look at him. “Ilya,” they smile sleepily. They would be overjoyed to stay like this forever, if the two of them would allow it. It’s often they entertain the concept in daydreams, and as of late they’ve come to the conclusion that Vissenta and Julian would let them. “We missed you.”

Julian’s adoring whisper grounds them. “I missed the both of you too.” Amaryllis is surprised, just as they had been by Vissenta earlier in the evening.

And again, when he leans forward to kiss them, soft and sweet. For a moment after, Amaryllis just watches him. His exhausted eyes, full of what they can only describe as adoring, the same way he looks at Vissenta, looking at them.

“I love you,” Amaryllis whispers to him, the confession out of their mouth before they can stop it. They try to ignore the way the rhythm of Vissenta’s breathing falters, and that hopefully the sharp inhale is from whatever she’s dreaming about.

Despite his exhaustion, Julian’s face lights up, and to them it’s far more radiant than the moonlight streaming through the curtains.

“And I love you.”