#gave all my plants that needed it a good drink. since its so damn dry this summer...

[burningeyeslikestars]

cultivars are crazy tell me why my cultivar cardinal flower is almost desiccated, flopped onto the earth, and still has been blooming profusely for months.....

[violetnotez]

HC: The Boys Taste Their S/o’s Chapstick

Anonymous:  could I request headcannons for shinso, mirio, denki, sero, and bakugo kissing their s/o and tasting their chapstick ? Or if you want or when they realize their s/o takes care of them in really subtle ways that they didn’t really notice it at first ? i love your blog so much 🥺❤️

Hey babe omg Im so happy you like my blog!!!! Also this ask OMG I have been wanting to write it for so long!!!! Im a sucker for these super cute and fluffy headcanons, so thank you so much for the idea!

Pairings: Shinso x reader, Mirio x reader, Denki x reader, Sero x reader, Bakugo x reader

Warnings: some might get suggestive, but none of these are full blown NSFW! Just a sprinkle of spiciness, thats all!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

S H I N SO U

Flavor: Cherry Vanilla

Your currently trying to get ready for bed with Shinsou, his purple hair cascading against the pillow as he’s scrolling through Insta

defintely looking at cat vids

Youre just BEAT from the day- work, school, practice, whatever your life entails it just felt so incredibly tiring today

Of course, Shinsou seems to have other plans

Once he sees you come out of the bathroom, your hair wet, your skin dewy from washing, your body only wearing one of his oversized shirts and some small shorts....

man is gonna wanna be allllll over you

“Damn, kitten who allowed you to look that hot,” he’d purr, his eyes drinking you in as he propped his body on his elbows to get a better look

You’d roll your eyes, a smile on your lips-

Lowkey a perv for his s/o fight me on this

Once you sit down on the bed, its over

Shinso’s hands are all over you, his palms trailing under your shirt as he leaved lazy kisses on your neck

“Cmon, baby, lets have a little fun before we sleep....”

Just tell him your tired, and he’ll comply, turning super fluffy and cuddly in a matter of minutes

Reluctantly tho this boi is horny when hes horny

“Ahh my kitten’s tired? Fine then, you need your rest.”

He’ll lean in to give a sweet kiss, unknowingly of how flavorful you taste now with your chapstick

And OHOHOHO after that its OVER

The taste of vanilla bursts in his mouth, the scent of cherry becoming more prominent-

When did you start tasting so good?

He honestly wont know how to react- he’ll shake his head and blink a few times, “The hell-?” spilling out of his lips

He grabs you buy the chin, his thumb swiping against your lips gently

Once he sees the faint red sheen on his digit, it kinda dawns on him whats going on

You catch on to his confusion, a small giggle spilling out of you as you tell him its just chapstick you bought since your lips felt dry

He’ll just give you a lazy smirk, his lilac eyes a royal purple as he eyes you

This man cant HELP HIMSELF

He’ll lean in for another kiss, this one lasting much longer and more passionate as he tried to capture that taste again

“Do me a favor and keep wearing that kitten,”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

M I R I O 

Flavor: Birthday Cake

Im so proud of fidning this picture im sorry it just matches so well

Anywaysssssssss

You had just gotten out of the locker room, your UA uniform a little wrinkled from being balled up while you were training

You walked out the metal doors, your lips feeling much softer than usual- you were in desperate need of chapstick after that particular lesson

Thanks UA for having training grounds that blow up every 5 seconds and spray dust everywhere

But thankfully Neijire is the best person ever and hooked you up with some super cute chapstick

Since it was new and just sitting in her book bag, she just told you to keep it

NEIJIRE WHY YOU GOTTA BE SO SWEET?

You had to admit though, you really liked it- the packaging was pretty cute, it was nice on your skin, but the SMELL

OMG

You felt like a bakery was near you every step you took

And everytime you licked your lips it tasted like sweets, which was an amazing addition

Makes ya wonder how safe it is to consume makeup 👀

Mirio is the cutest boyfirend though-wherever your class is, he waits for you outside and walks with you until you have to go your seperate ways

So, as usual, he’s waiting for you outside the locker room, a wide grin plastered on his face

Once he sees you walk out of the doors, he’s already bounding over, his arms swinging cause hes always just so happy to see you 

“Hey sunshine!” he greets you like any other day, his voice just radiating happiness

Some days though, Mirio will kiss the top of your head as he grabs your hand and walks you to his class

Other days, he’s a little more bold, instead leaning down to give you a kiss on your lips as he snakes his hand around your waist

TODAY BABE 

IS THAT DAY

You can tell he’s feeling a little more *frisky cause he’s got this mischievous glint in his eyes

ehhhh why not indulge him?

So you get on your tippie toes, leaning in to him and planting a quick kiss on his lips

But thats when Mirio gets confused- did you eat something?Is it cake? CInnamon roll? Cookie? But whatever it is, it tastes GOOD

“Sweetie, did you buy something from the vending machine?” he asks, a confused grin on his face as he eyes you

You laugh, not realizing that Mirio would be affected by your new chapstick too, 

“Oh no, its just a chapstick Niejire gave me, I think its cake batter flavored- do you like it?”

Mirio licked his lips , savoring the lingering flavor on his skin

“You batter belive it!”

*cue the groaning

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

D E N K I

Flavor: Pina Colada

So Mina, bless her little music crazed heart, somehow won a pack of tickets from a radio station to a new water park opening up not too far from UA

It was superrrrr expensive to get in, but the music station hooked all you guys up with VIP tickers, a private cabana, food, THE WORKS

You had been running around with the group all day

(except Bakugo- he either went to the lazy river or the surfing simulator thignie cause Kaminari said he would wipe out and wanted to prove him wrong)

Everybody else wanted to do everythingggg, from ride the craziest rides to trying all the food the park had

By the end of the day, you were completely beat and just wanted to rest

Mina was sitting beside you in  the cabana (again, thank you radio station for hooking some teens up!), just searching it for snacks the boys hadnt eaten

“Aww cmon, really?! We have chapstick but no food?!”

Your head instantly perked up at the sound- chapstick? God, you could deifnitely use some right now from all that chlorine and sun...

You asked Mina to toss you one, the pink skinned girl throwing you a tube as she grumbled about how “piggy” boys were

You checked the flavor on the tube, the fruits on the side label instantly telling you it was something tropical

As you were putting it on, the boys of Bakusquad were bounding up the steps, their feets covered in sand-

“Guess what?! We got Bakugo to go in the wave pool! Isnt that crazy! It had sand on the bottom, like a real beach-”

Kirishima was just gushing and super excited, Bakugo looking like a pissed off wet cat next to him

You sat up quickly, happy to see your boyfriend, his spiky hair all wet from the day and his boxers dripping

As Kirishima and Sero were messing with an extremely annoyed Bakugo, you went and grabbed the boys some towels, giving the last one to your boyfriend

“Aww thanks babe,” he gushed out, his hands grabbing the towel gingerly as he leaned to kiss you

But wait- you tasted- really sweet?

Kaminari pulled back slightly, a small smirk on his lips, cause damn, that tasted really good

“Did you eat some fruit or something? Cause you taste super yummy babe-”

You�� pointed to your lips as you told him how Mina found some free chapstick lying around in the cabana

Kaminari just gave you this really blissed out stare as he sneaked one more peck from you- he was kinda wishing his friends weren't here, cause hed totally be making out with you with that yummy stuff on your lips...

“Do me a favor and dont take that stuff off, okay? Until we get back to the dorms,”

He sent you a small wink, weaving behind you inconspicously, and giving your bottom a playful pinch

WHY YOU GOTTA BE A FLIRT KAMINARI

(Also before you left Kamianri most definitely dumped the whole jar of chapsticks into his backpack)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 

S E R O

Flavor: Peppermint

You and Sero had just gotten coffee from a little cafe when it starts to rain

Like alottttttttttt

And of course it happens when your right outside, waiting for your ride to take you back home

So you two are just standing there like weirdos with the rain POURING, Sero holding up his jacket over both of your heads

But honestly, it’s not doing much to block out the rain, so honestly-why not have some fun?

You run out of the fabric, instantly feeling your whole body get drenched as you start twirling and laughing

“He-hey wait, babe!”

Sero’s gonna be laughing, and now y’all playing a wierd game of tag

Aghhhhhh so cute tho 🥺🥺

He catches you pretty quickly, his tape grabbing your waist and pulling you to him,,,

You instantly collide with his chest, your cheeks rosy from running around so much and your hands resting on his chest

Sero gives you the biggest grin, his finger under your chin and raising it to look at him

“You know your the biggest tease I know?”

“Yup!”

He laughs, placing a kiss on your lips-and omg why are you minty? and it feels soooo good to him, cause honestly mint isn’t a bad flavor-

“Hey babe whatcha got on your lips? Did you eat-gum or something?”

You just laugh and tell him it’s some chapstick you got (imagine the mint eos U KNOW THE ONE)

He asks if it’s the egg chapstick OML 💀

Yes Sero the egg chapstick

His lips are parted a little, his eyes wider than usual cause he’s lowkey confused on how he liked that so much

But he send you another huge grin before he kisses you again-

“I think your gonna need to wear that more for me, yeah?”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

B A K U G O

Flavor: Cinnamon

Bakugo has ben practically forcing you to wake up at ungodly hours with him to train

He says its cause “youre getting weak” but really he’s a total simp for having such close contact with you

Also he’s a little brat and put his all into it  so you cant ever beat him, which boosts his ego for some reason?

“Hah, that really the best you got?” he scoffs down at you, his calloused hands pinning you to the ground as his body cages you in for the umpteenth time

Honestly, its hard to fight when your 1) annoyed about loosing and 2) have your hot as hell boyfriend pining you to the ground

But thankfully

THANKFULLY

He was starting to overheat, his breathe coming out in low pants as  strands  of hair began sticking to his forehead

You felt one of his palms begin to slip ever so slightly near you, and on instinct you knew you had to do something, you finally had an opening-

so you caused a distraction 

Your hands quickly flew to the nape of his neck, pressing his head down to your so you could kiss him square on the lips

Bakugo was completely confused in the best way possible- he didnt expect that to happen, but hell, hes not complaining-

until his lips start to tingle

“-the hell?!” he sputters out, his mind trying to figure out what was going on just before you successfuly flip him over, with you now on top

You stared down triumphantly at your boyfriend, not knowing how well that worked- until you noticed how shiny Bakugo lips look

He begins mashing his lips together, trying to rub it off since you had his hands pinned down

“The hell is on my lips? Agh, dont tell me its that weird ass lip stuff that supposed to make your lips bigger or something-’’

Ummmmm how does he know about lip plumping lip gloss? Question for a another day-

“Its chapstick silly,” you giggle, “-cinnamon”

Honestly, he’s gonna like it-this boy likes spicy things and the fact that “spicy” sensation came from his s/o....shoooottttt he is in love

But

Of course

He’s gonna act like it’s wierd or something, cause HES wierd

“Cinnamon? You couldn’t get something normal like cherry or grape?”

You scrunch up your nose, cause yeah your not for those flavors AT ALL, and Bakugo finds his chance

He quickly flips you over, your back now against the floor and his body on top of yours

“Cmon, baka don’t tell me thats seriosuly all you got-“

Don’t remind him that you were able to flip him over tho he’ll turn red and tell you to shut it

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[anyoneseenadam]

You write fenrys so well 🥺

Can I request something for him falling in love with a lady who works in a library and is friends with aelin and he keeps finding excuses to visit the library and one day they realize they’re mates ? Can you plz include alot of longing looks & touched and his friends noticing ?

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: drinking, small argument, mainly fluff

a/n: kay so it's been a hot MINUTE since I've posted and I am sorry my loves, also I comepletely modified this but I hope you still like it, comment and shiz pls it really helps with writers block lol <33

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

You had met Aelin sometime after the war. She had been wandering around town a couple days after the coronation, smiling at children and waving at the elderly, observing the way the town was slowly filling again, people returning home now it was safe. There weren’t many people about however, it just being seven in the morning.

She had walked past a shop then. It was small and rickety, the door barely on its hinges as a girl fought with it, swearing like a sailor.

“Do you need some help?” she asked, moving to stand beside the girl. You screamed instantly, jumping out of your skin at her sudden appearance, having not heard anyone coming due to how absorbed you were in your job. Aelin screamed when you screamed, and it left the two of you staring at each other with wide eyes before you fell apart in fits of laughter.

You stood from where you had bent to clutch your stomach, wiping tears from your eyes as you calmed down.

“Jeez you fucking gave me a heart attack,” you laughed as she apologised, still giggling behind her hand. You then turned, hands on your hips as you glared at the door of your shop.

“Rude men should be put down,” you muttered and Aelin was laughing again.

“That I can get behind,” she said as you opened it, giving up on fixing it completely, Aelin gasping when she saw the inside.

“You have a bookshop!” she exclaimed, and you laughed.

“Had, now I just have dusty books and a broken door. It was my mother’s before…” you trailed off and Aelin put a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and you shrugged.

“It’s fine, it was ages ago anyway,” you stepped further into the shop, going to the large window up front and tugging of the white sheet that obscured it from light. “However, this shop isn’t dead yet so might as well get it done.”

Aelin looked around the shop, the paper on the walls was peeling, the paint on the shelves cracked and the books covered in a fine layer of dust. “Damn, where do we start?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves and grinning at you when you whirled around, frowning at her.

“Doesn’t the queen have better things to do?” you asked, and she shrugged, laughing at your bewildered expression.

“I’m sure my husband will cope.” You gave her an unsure look at that, and she laughed, “He’s competent.”

“If you say so.”

“If you knew I was queen you really have no fear of authority do you?” she asked as you started pulling books down and pilling them onto the sheet you just pulled off the window.

“Respect is earned, plus you’re the one who made me shit myself.” She laughed again, smiling widely, and helping you take down more books as she realised this was the most she had laughed since the war ended.

--

The worked all day. First removing the books and putting them upstairs in the rundown apartment you lived in, filled with plants, blankets, and somehow even more books. Next the repainted the shelves, setting them outside to dry while they re-wallpapered the walls and cleaned the floor until it was shining.

When the sky got darker you swore as you realised neither of you had eaten all day, going up to your new friend and asking her what she wanted for dinner.

“I make really good pasta,” you had suggested, and she had nodded enthusiastically as you went upstairs to your apartment, drinking wine as you cooked together. As you ate on the floor, drinking yet another bottle of wine, this time straight from the bottle Aelin asked about your past.

You assured her it was relatively normal, asides from the whole ‘evil tyrant thing’ as you put it. You talked together for hours, going back downstairs, and bringing the now dry, sage green shelves back in and putting all the books away, setting them in categories.

Hours later Aelin decided to go home, not wanting to worry so much and she opened the still broken door, the both of you laughing as you realised you had forgotten a pretty integral part.

“Hey, you could just name the shop, ‘the broken door’,” she suggested, and you smiled.

“That would work.”

--

When Aelin got home she was met with a concerned Rowan, asking where she had been all day.

She smiled at him, pausing before answering, “I think I have a new best friend.”

Rowan frowned at that, “And what brings you to that conclusion?”

“Today was the first time I’ve laughed since…” she trailed off as silence fell at the thought of their past few months, Rowan then bringing her in for a hug.

“You know this means I have to meet her too then,”

“Nope my best friend get your own.” She shoved him playfully, falling asleep next to him that night with a smile on her face.

--

They went to see you the next morning and Aelin laughed when she saw your dishevelled state.

“Did you sleep?” she asked when she walked into the shop and found signs put up and plants dotted around the room as you sat on the floor, drinking a coffee that smelt so strong she almost gagged, much preferring sweeter tastes.

“Sleep is for the weak!” you said, half-heartedly raising your hand.

“And what’s with all the plants?” Rowan asked, frowning as he almost walked into another and you sat up straighter, glaring at him.

“What you too good for plants?” you asked your hands moving over-exaggeratedly as you got to your feet. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just a stinky man,” you whispered to the plants and Aelin laughed at her husbands offended face.

You stood and started walking upstairs, your feet dragging as you went to get breakfast. You heard them follow you and you pushed open the door to your flat.

You had even more plants up here and Rowan rolled his eyes as you moved to open the large windows, letting in fresh air, you then moved about making pancakes, mixing enough for the three of you and adding blueberries when you were finished.

You cooked them up while chatting idly with Aelin and Rowan, only receiving a small amount of judgement when Aelin discovered you didn’t actually have a bed and instead just a mattress on the floor with a sheet for warmth and some soft pillows. Your house was newly decorated, art hung on the walls, plants and candles decorating every surface.

“Tea, coffee, water, vodka?” you offered them drinks and Aelin whined.

“No vodka, we had too much wine last night,” you laughed at that as you served up coffee and pancakes.

“Yeah we’ll have to go properly drinking some night,” you muttered, Rowan chuckling under his breath and nodding in agreement.

The three of you ate the rest of your food, laughing and joking together and Rowan really noticed the difference in Aelin’s manner. She hadn’t been truly comfortable or at ease in months, always looking over her shoulder, but now she sat laughing with her friend and Rowan wanted to thank you a million times over for bringing her back out of her shell.

--

Since you first met Aelin you were meeting up almost every day, discussing books over tea and hanging out at your shop, or drinking from expensive glasses in her castle while trying on elaborate dresses. Soon you were practically apart of the family, but that didn’t stop the confusion Fenrys felt when he walked into the castle and found a young girl sleeping on Aelins’ bed, a book opened but abandoned on her chest.

He tentatively walked forward so he could see her more clearly and felt his heart clench when his eyes fall upon her peaceful face, her eyes closed, and hair spread around her head like a halo. He was about to reach a hand out to brush a strand of hair from her soft hair when he heard the door open, turning to see Aelin run in, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

“Fenrys I didn’t know you were back,” she said when she pulled back, bouncing on the soles of her feet excitedly and he laughed.

“Are you going to explain why there’s a girl in your bed, or do I need to break some news to Rowan,” he joked and she shoved his shoulder before moving to the bed and shaking the girl awake.

“It’s just (y/n),” she explained as the girl huffed and rolled away from Aelin.

“Ah of course this person who I definitely knew existed,” Aelin stuck her finger up at him as he laughed, unable to stop his eyes from trailing back to her.

He watched as she breathed in deeply, her eyes opening slowly as she took him in, before she pulled her covers up to over her chin and frowned at him and Aelin with a small pout.

“I was having the best dream every asshole,” she complained and Fenrys smiled as she sat up on her elbows and reached a hand out to him to shake, introducing herself. He brushed the shake of and instead brought her hand to his mouth pressing a kiss to the back of it as sparks show through her skin at the sensation.

“I’m Fenrys, ambassador of Terrasen,” he smiled cheekily as she shrunk away slightly, nerves taking over her, “hope to see you around more.”

He left, pressing a quick kiss to Aelin’s temple, and winking at you as Aelin moved over to you with wide eyes.

“Aelin…” you started as she squealed.

“He was totally flirting with you! You would be such a cute couple, please, please ask him out I need you two to get married and have to worlds prettiest babies!” she was bouncing in hr seat as you moved to shut her up.

“Okay ONE, I just met him. And TWO, he was far too pretty for me,” you said and Aelin frowned.

“Nope, nope you are incorrect, and he is going to fall in love with you,” she demanded, and you laughed, kicking her with your foot.

“Mhm sure.”

--

The next few days, Fenrys was coming to your shop every day. He would bring chocolates and flowers some days, or coffee and pastries other days. Always dropping them off with a smile, before lounging in the plush, green chair in the corner of the shop and talking to you for hours. He has also started coming to your and Aelin’s weekly cocktail night, wrapping his arm around your shoulder’s and laughing drunkenly into your neck as you told stories.

However, through all this you remained ‘friends’. He would press kisses to your cheek and hands, keep an arm slung around your waist when men came to speak at you at bars and primarily referred to you using pet names and rarely ever your actual name. And it was getting frustrating.

You were having to start putting genuine effort to not kiss him every time you had a drink and he sat extra close to you. Or when you were invited to parties, and he moved smoothly through the countless questions asking if you were dating.

And while you revelled in the attention it was tearing at your heart slightly as insecurities told you that he would never actually be interested in you. You wanted to scream at him every time he kissed you but wanted to melt into him every time he hugged you, your brain constantly at battle with itself when he was near.

You knew you were due to explode any time soon. So when you were out one night and he was holding you extra close, you pulled away, muttering an excuse about getting another drink.

Standing at the bar as you waited you rested you head in your hands for a second before you saw a man begin to approach you. He was attractive, not like Fenrys, but honestly you would take anything to get your mind of him at the moment, so you smiled at him, tilting your head.

“What’s a doll like you doing all alone?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly, unlike the smooth, deep timbre you were used to, but you just laughed.

“Waiting for a man to not dehumanise me,” you bit back, and he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, what would you prefer?” he flirted, sidling up closer to you as you turned to face him.

“Can’t go wrong with ma’am,” you joked, and he laughed, looking down and shaking his head, only to look back up, his eyes going wide. You felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist and looked up to see Fenrys, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as he glared at the man in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice deep and full of authority, the man in front of you shrinking under his gaze.

“Shit sorry man, didn’t realise she had a boyfriend,” he apologised and this time you did roll your eyes.

“He’s not my-“ you began but Fenrys cut you off.

“Yeah she does, so back the fuck off.” You looked down as he spoke, shaking your head as tears of frustration built in your eyes. You harshly pulled out of his grip, leaving the bar as quickly as you could, wiping away the escaped tears as you heard Fenrys follow after you, shouting your name.

You whirled around when you got outside, your glare murderous.

“You do not get to do that!” you shouted as he moved closer to you.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry,” he began but you cut him off.

“NO! I am not your girlfriend! You have never once asked me to be so you don’t get to try scare away any guy that might have genuine interest in me!” his shoulders slumped as you spoke. Truthfully, he has been working up the courage to ask you out for months, and while he knew it was unfair how he treated you, he couldn’t help himself. He was addicted. He thought of you constantly, the texture of your skin, the smell of your hair, the way your eyes lit up and the way you moved your hands as you spoke. So when he saw you engage with the man that had the audacity to talk to you, his grip tightened on his glass so much it shattered, ignoring the worried looks from Aelin and Rowan as he stomped over to you.

“(y/n) listen, I’ve been an asshole I know,” he raised his hands, tentatively stepping towards you, “But I really care about you, and I want to be yours.”

You laughed bitterly, “You’re just saying that.”

He shook his head vehemently, stepping closer to you again and wrapping his arms around your shoulders so gently, one would think you were made of glass.

“I love you darling, please be mine,” he said into your hair, and you pulled back, looking up at him through glassy eyes before nodding slightly.

“I love you Fenrys,” he smiled down at you before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against your mouth, pouring his heart into the action. You gasped slightly as your lips met and he smiled widely against your mouth as the bond clicked into place.

“You know this means I now have an excuse to break the nose of any man that talks to you,” he whispered against your lips, and you giggled, shoving at his shoulder gently.

“I’m still annoyed at you,” you muttered, and his eyes darkened.

“Well I’m sure I can make it up to you.”

[midnightmoonkiss]

Painful Stings & Sweet Apologies

Yandere! Izuku Midoriya X Fem! Reader

Summary: Rage fueled by failure, Izuku finds comfort in a bar, only to come home to a broken promise and a furious darling. He didn’t mean for this to happen.

WARNINGS!: blood, violence, alcohol (Izuku under the influence)

Category: Angst, one-sided fluff

Word Count: 9k+

A/N: This is my first yandere fic! I’m nervous as hell, I have no idea if I got this right lol. Though I did spend months perfecting it to the best of my abilities! Hope you enjoy~

Just To Clarify:

You’re both adults

It’s Friday

It’s cold and rainy (naturally--)

Izuku’s bedroom has a walk in closet and a bathroom

the kitchen is off-limits

THIS IS A YANDERE FIC!

Izuku is an obsessive yandere~

Cold, burning liquid rushed down the male’s throat as he gulped at the drink within the short glass.

Whiskey, or more specifically - a Jack Daniels, the honey-brown alcohol that delivered a bitter slap to all those who drank its refreshing nectar. 

It wasn’t his usual drink, and certainly not one he’d ever guzzle like a parched beast.

Hell, who in their right mind would do that? Even with a single sip, it left your chest burning with its heat.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

Or, more of, self-loathing times call for a quick, one-way ticket to Forget-Me Ville and Cringe Island.

The bar he sat at was lively, filled with drunken laughter and slurred speeches of men and women who have been out for far too long.

But it was Friday night, so who cared?

A rainy, cold, sucky, depressing Friday night, one of which his friends tried to make a bit better by taking the pissed off, green-haired hero out for drinks.

They certainly hadn’t expected Izuku, an innocent little guy who couldn’t handle his liquor for shit, to shoot down an entire glass of whiskey.

At first, he ordered a simple beer - a starter drink if you will.

It didn’t take but ten minutes for him to gulp that glass down, and he was onto his next drink - a sangria wine cooler. His typical drink. He always was more of a fruity guy, after all, preferring the sweet tang over the bitter bite.

But as the night raged on, and so did his inner turmoil, he kept ordering stronger and stronger drinks, until he got to the whiskey. You could say he lost his sense of reason a while ago.

He was still seething with rage, not as much as before but the mixture of anger and frustration swirled hotly with the alcohol pumping through his veins and sitting in his belly.

You could say it was keeping him warm in this lifeless atmosphere.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t think of you, his precious little darling. He could barely think straight, mind occupied with too many thoughts to be able to understand any of them. It was all a garbled mess, one he chose to ignore.

Was that a good or a bad thing? He’d find out later.

But for now?

He needed another drink.

In the beginning, this Friday seemed like it was going to be one of the best he’ll ever have.

For months this pro hero has been working alongside detectives with catching a murderous villain known by the name “Ghoul.”

They were sick and twisted, their motives unknown, their trail hard to tract.

He had only one encounter with them, but he was too late to catch them.

That’s the day he was brought in to help aid the case.

But, that day haunted him for weeks. He knew that if he had arrived at the bloody scene sooner, he could have captured that cannibalistic fuck, brought justice to those who had already died by their mangy hands.. and prevented the deaths that would ensue after.

He’d known horrible villains before, but this one was different. Their teeth were sharp, blood permanently stained their clothes, and they gave off a wolfish vibe. Yes, a hunter. One who tore flesh from human bones and munched on it until someone screamed in terror for help.

For months he helped gather intel, piece puzzle pieces together, aid with location predictions and stakeout missions, until finally - they found that bastard.

It was more of a hunch than anything really, that Ghoul would show up to that site.

Ghoul, while hard to track, left a pattern in their wake. They avoided certain areas, thrived where the poor were at their weakest. The murders always seemed to happen at the exact same time behind run-down fast-food restaurants.

It was unclear if the sicko liked a hearty human meal with their victims own stomachs filled with greasy, fattening food, or if it was just convenient to them, either way - the perp was too damn sloppy.

To regular ol’ police personnel, the murders would just always happen there, behind restaurants.

But after Deku’s team began tracking where each and every murder occurred, it was quite easy to tell they were drawing, funnily enough, a circle around the city’s map.

It was stupid, childish, and downright idiotic, but damn if that didn’t lead the team to find the cold-blooded killer.

Adrenaline and pure hatred for the villain fueled Deku’s onslaught of attacks, each seemingly more powerful and less calculated. His mind was muddled.

He was filled with rage, finally being able to see the shitty excuse of a human again, but it affected his movements. He was being hasty, careless, not his usual calculated self.

And that’s what brought him his demise.

His shoulder was harshly bitten, razor-sharp teeth tearing through the fabric of his suit and shredding up the skin on his shoulder. Their quirk pumped through his blood instantly, making him collapse onto his knees, paralyzed. He hissed in pain as the sickeningly warm liquid flowed down his arm, unable to stop himself from face planting onto the dirty gravel of the alleyway.

He had lost, and Ghoul got away.

He still remembers it, after all, it was only hours ago that it happened.

The sun had long since set, the crescent moon hung high in the sky as her stars shimmered around her. His wound was stitched up and healed by doctors, leaving only a bitter scar to remind him of his failure.

He failed not only himself but those who counted on him.

God, he sucked.

And so, he ordered another drink.

He wanted to forget. He didn’t want to feel the failure sting at his fragile heart anymore.

It was too much to take.

What type of hero let the villain get away, knowing full well that they would kill again?

They couldn’t track Ghoul’s trail anymore, for the circle had been completed - and they were left with nothing with the numbing feeling of brutal loss.

Hours blurred together as his mind went hazy. His speech slurred together, dull, green eyes unfocused and mouth blabbering out nonsense to his friends that he couldn’t even really hear. It just- came out. 

Soon enough, he was being dragged out of the bar by his annoyingly sober friends.

The night had gotten colder since they first entered the warm bar, rain pelted down like freezing bullets flying from a machine gun. A dirty old awning kept them dry as they stood still at the front of the bars entrance, the loud music bouncing off the walls inside echoed down the empty streets.

Heavy streams of salty rainwater poured off the edge of the awning, splattering down into a mud puddle that emptied into the sewer grate below.

Who doesnt love the musty stench of rain on asphalt?

Hell, the smell itself, combined with the strong yet savory scent of the Korean barbeque joint across the street was enough to make him nauseous. He had drank far too much, and his stomach was suffering the consequences. He should have eaten more before drinking. How foolish.

 “It’s pretty late, you should head home.” Reasoned his best friend, Todoroki, puffs of condensation leaving his mouth as the warm breath met cold air, pressing a freezing hand to the back of the freckled boy's sweaty neck to jolt his drowsy, drunken self into a more alert state. Nothing but time could sober you up, but damn if that hand didn’t help slap some energy into him.

“Yeaahh, ye-yeahhh.. I gooht you Todooroe.” God, he sounded like someone high on anesthesia after being awoken from a surgery - which he definitely would be able to compare this experience to. Being a hero meant at least a few surgeries a year. Comes with the job.

Plus, this wasn’t the first time he’s been drunk.

He sure as hell hated the aftermath, but some nights it felt as if the hot burn of alcohol was the only thing that could keep him sane.

This was just one of those nights - or perhaps it was multiple nights slammed into one from just how stupidly drunk he was. The world was blurred, and Izuku doubted he could even walk straight at this point.

The half and half hero waved down a stray taxi, street water splashing up onto the sidewalk as the yellow vehicle came to a screeching halt.

“Get home safe.” Todoroki sighed out his nose at seeing his friends out-of-it state, helping the giddy and jelly-like hero into the back seat.

Izuku pouted, grabby hands clinging onto his friend's shirt in protest.

With a half-hearted chuckle, Todoroki pried himself free from his grip, handing the cab driver more than enough yen to get the drunk boy home.

He gave the taxi driver an address, and soon the car was rolling off down the street, Izukus flushed face pressed against the cold, fogging glass and staring with eyes full of tears at his friend.

Though, it seemed as if he had forgotten a promise he made to someone very important to him. Someone who he devoted his entire life to.

Someone who he risked everything for.

You.

His princess who had been locked in a small, dark room all day, wrists tightly cuffed to loose chains on the wall. The only light provided was a rusty oil lamp Izuku had gotten at a yard sale one day. The flame was dull, and left the room covered in shadows.

The tile below was as cold as it had been since the morning when Izuku had forcefully chained you there for misbehaving the night before.

You had deserved this punishment for disobeying him.

That’s what he tried to convince, anyway.

He was only trying to keep you safe! He hated punishing you, hated the way you thrashed and screamed at him in protest - that only meant he had to be rougher with you. You had broken into the most dangerous room in the apartment, afterall.

The kitchen.

There were far too many harmful objects in there!

Knives that could slice your delicate skin to shreds, forks that could jab into your body, hot stoves that could leave you with a nasty burn, and canned food stored too high up on the shelf that could fall and hit your head.. It was for your protection that the kitchen was off-limits to you!

Plus, Izuku, your oh-so kind and sweet boyfriend, had no problem with cooking you meals to eat together. In fact, he loved it!

He felt accomplished whenever you'd hum in approval at his cooking, or even turned on if that slutty mouth of yours just so happened to moan around your utensil. 

Those were the nights dinner was forgotten.

But you had been foolish, entering the kitchen for a midnight snack whilst Izuku was out on patrol. Your sneaky little self thought you were clever, leaving no trace of your betrayal.

Until you were awoken hours later by a green glow, blood running cold as a pair of murderous neon eyes stared into yours.

It had to be one of the scariest sights to date.

His pupils were shrunk, green electricity buzzing around his large body. He hovered over your trembling body, a wrapper in between his two gloved fingers.

He was so close, your noses brushed together.

You swore he could see into your soul, as well as see the fear in your (E/C) eyes.

“What is this, (Y/N)?” He had asked innocently, hurt coating his words.

“I-” you wanted to make an excuse, protest, say it wasn’t yours, but every single letter died on your tongue as his face pressed closer, a sadistic smile overtaking his features.

“You didn’t.. You didn’t go into the kitchen, did you?”

His hot, minty breath blew all over your face as he spoke, and you shriveled back in fear as insanity crossed his expression in that way you were far too familiar with.

The giggles bubbled in his throat as he tried to fight logic with delusion, “It wasn’t you, right? Someone broke in, didn’t they? You wouldn’t break my trust, would you?”

His voice was cracking, fingers digging into the flesh of the bed beneath you as his eye began to twitch.

He stared down at you, curly green hair brushing against the sides of your face, waiting far too long for an answer he would never get. His bottom lip wobbled, feat tears welling up in his eyes and falling onto your pale cheeks as his body shook with anger and sadness.

He was already stressed about the following mornings mission, and to come home to his princess betraying his trust was not something he enjoyed.

And so, you were punished.

But he had promised you wouldnt be locked in there for long, he knew how you feared the dark. He had conditioned you to fear it, after all. It was his greatest accomplishment.

You were always so willing to cuddle into him when the lights were off.

A few hours turned into nearly an entire day, the only indication you had of this was past experiences, skin around your wrists rubbed raw from the metal cuffs, and the unusual sting of your ass and bare legs burning from the freezing tile beneath you.

That was the least of your worries, though.

Worst of all - the flame, which was holding you together and keeping you from crying out for help to those who might hear you in this soundproof room, which would no doubt get you a harsher punishment, was about to die out.

That flame, albeit small, was your only hope of surviving this.

Izuku was typically a very reliable person, it was strange for him to not keep his word to you. He devoted his being to you, worshipped the ground you regrettably walked upon, why would he break his own promise?

The thought of being trapped in the dark, the echo of your chains taunting your delirious mind had you close to tears. You didn’t want to be alone here anymore.

You watched in horror as the flame got smaller and smaller, tears now rolling down your cheeks as you pleaded under your breath for it to last longer.

The air vents around you provided enough oxygen for it to survive, but that damn oil..

Where was he?! 

Suddenly, the door to his apartment flew open, giggles seeping through the house and teasing your ears.

Then, there was no more light.

A screech tore from your throat, a desperate call of his name as you thrashed around, tears pouring from your eyes.

You felt as if you couldnt breathe as your head whipped around the space, desperate for more air and light as your lungs seemed to scream.

You couldnt feel the cold chill of the floor anymore, body numb as adrenaline pumped through your veins.

What was in the dark?

How big was this space again?

Rather, how small was it?

What was that noise?

Did something just touch you?

There was wind, there was wind, no. A cold chill?

Oh god what was that-

Loud, clumsy footsteps made their way closer and closer to the locked metal door. You sobbed as your heard the jingle of keys, metal scraping against metal as he fumbled with inserting them into the lock.

Until finally, you were basked in the honey-dew glow of the bedroom.

You fought to control your breathing as he dropped to his knees, taking far too long for your liking to get the cuffs off.

But at least now you know why he took so god damn long.

You could smell the putrid miasma of alcohol wafting off him the moment he stepped into the darkroom, tainted with the salty effluvium of rainwater as it dripped onto your skin from his damp, messy hair.

Rage bubbled inside you as he giggled once more at your tear-stained cheeks, “D-did yoou miss mee?” He slurred, a giddy smile on his face as the stale stench of what he had been drinking all night circled around your head like a rotten wreath.

Instead of answering, like you knew you should have, you turned your head towards the door, soaking in the light you were previously deprived of. Even if it was just a mere minute.

At your silence, his smile quickly turned into a frown. Big, forestry green eyes welled up with sadness, bottom lip trembling, “(Y-Y/N)?” He couldnt help but reach out, scarred fingers wishing to wipe away those stray tears from your face.

You missed him.

That’s why you were crying, surely.

He wanted to comfort you, say that he was there now and that you could both cuddle until twinkling dawn.

You weren’t alone anymore.

He was all you needed, and he was right beside you.

He’ll always be there for you, and you’ll always be there for him.

Because you love each other.

“D-Don’t cry-”

His cold hand was smacked away, and his usually sturdy body was shoved back so that you could scramble out of the freezing closet.

You needed space.

More room to breath.

To be on flooring that didnt feel like ice cutting into your flesh.

Hell, you were sure the skin that had the unholy misfortune of touching the floor were burned red at this point from how long you had to sit there.

Not to mention your poor wrists, you couldnt even bear the sight of them being so raw. You were pretty sure they would bleed if you even touched them. Your body was screaming in pain, stomach growing for food, mouth parched from not being given water so that you wouldnt make a mess on the floor.

You were weak, shaking, and afraid.

That bastard had the gall to say not to cry, to look concerned when he knew damn well how much you absolutely despised the dark.

At first it was a childish fear, but the moment he snatched you from your regular life, that fear became a reality. There were countless nights you’d be punished by being left alone in the dark.

He didnt want to hurt you, no, and he never has, but damn if he hasnt conditioned you to be afraid. 

Storms were the worst.

What was once a peaceful white noise turned into a terrifying nightmare once the moon rose in the sky.

There were times you were locked in that closet during violent storms, screaming and begging to be let out.

Sometimes you were, other times you werent as lucky.

Though it was only raining right now, each pitter-patter of the droplets against the window or balcony made hairs on your neck stand up. The sound was previously muted in the closet, but now it was hitting you like a freight train on a track that never seemed to end.

You heard him scramble to his feet as you wiped your tears away, the creak of the floorboards as he stumbled towards you.

A subtle bang made you jump, his foot no doubt hitting the chest at the end of your bed. Everso the clumsy one, even in an illuminated room.

Suddenly, he was right behind you, arms wrapping tightly around your middle as his head dropped to your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against your neck.

Perhaps it would have been pleasant, comforting, even, if he wasnt soaked to the bone. The cold water from his dark grey, long-sleeved sweater was now seeping into your own thin clothes, freezing wet hair sending shivers down your spine and it presses against your heated, sensitive skin. Some drops even went down your back, ripping a gasp from you.

This wasnt comforting at all.

This was suffocating.

You squirmed in his grasp, desperate to get the hell away from him.

You were already pissed, and him wrapping around you and squeezing you tight like a snake to its prey was the cherry on top of your disastrous sundae.

With a grunt, you used the rest of what little strength you had left to rip yourself free from his ‘hug,’ nearly tripping on your own two feet as you rushed away from him.

He pouted at you as you shoved yourself into a corner of the room, finding comfort in being able to see all around you, no surprise attacks from behind, only what was in front of you.

Your breath was heavy as you glared at him, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching.

Truly, you had some nerve.

But it was hard to help it.

He broke a promise.

He never does that, and yet in your time of need- he wasn’t there for you.

For once.

He knew damn well you were locked up, scared shitless, expecting him to return home in a few short hours, yet here he is - looking absolutely clueless as to why you were suddenly so angry at him.

Tears streamed down his drunkenly flushed cheeks, hurt by how you shoved him away again.

All he wanted to do was snuggle you, his body exhausted yet numbed by the alcohol still burning in his tummy.

“Where..” you started, voice low, scratchy, and dripping with venom that reached deaf ears. “Where have you been!”

Just as he was about to open that mouth of his, no doubt about babble nearly incoherently - form logical excuses with evidence to back him up, say he lost track of time which you know damn well he never did, you shut him up.

You hated dealing with him when he was drunk, hell - you hated dealing with his obsessive ass most days.

But drunk? Drunk he got worse. He was clingy, more emotional, and worst of all? He didn’t have a filter.

He always managed to hide those more sinister desires under that sweet mask of his - until alcohol brought it out.

God, the smell of it made you sick to your stomach, but luckily you didn't have any food to throw up.

No thanks to him.

“What the fuck, Midoriya?!” You leered at him, noticing quickly the way his eyes darkened in that way they always did when you referred to him by his family name - the name he hated being called by you of all people.

“I’ve been trapped in that room all goddamn day! You said it’d be a few hours? What the hell happened to that! Look at the fucking time! Nine hours! Nine hours I’ve been stuck in my own personal hell! I can’t feel my fucking legs because of you!”

“I-” he attempted to start, the firm grip he had on his sanity quickly loosening with every shout you threw at him.

You cut him off, again, pent up rage now overtaking your sense of reason and fear, “What the hell happened?! You know what! I don’t even care! Not only did you,” You pointed a trembling finger at his stilled body, “break a promise! Something you swore you would never fucking do, you also had the nerve at laugh at me as I was trembling in fear!”

You looked like a mess, body shaking and bent over itself, one arm clutched around your waist as if to hold yourself together as that accusing finger stayed trained on him. Your hair was messy, frizzy, soaked with sweat and oily as hell from being denied a shower. Your clothes, thin and girly - much to your utter distaste, but to his satisfaction - now damp thanks to his carelessness.

All of this was because of him.

It always was.

Every single thing that went wrong in your life always seemed to be because of him nowadays.

You couldnt believe you let yourself fall for that misleading smile all those years ago, only to end up like this.

A mouse in a lions den.

But hell if that would stop you from squeaking your heart out till his razor-sharp claws ultimately caged you back in.

“Do you see my wrists?!” with a strangled sob, you held up both of your arms to show him the mess he already knew was his fault, “look at them! They hurt so fucking much because you left me in those disgusting handcuffs! This is all your fault!”

Your knees were wobbling so bad you swore your legs would give out at any second, but you’d be damned if you didnt hold your ground to this lunatic.

True, some days he was nice, normal, even. But days like these, or days much worse, you were reminded of just who he really was.

A monster was stretching it. He never intentionally tried to hurt you, your friends, or even your family.

No, he just stole you from your apartment in the dead of night, convinced the reason you were crying was because of the thunderstorm and not because some psycho snatched you from your window like some sort of 1970’s movie trope. That night he cradled your thrashing body to his hard chest with his strong arms, cooing at you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you begged to be let go. You were just scared of the storm~ He would keep you safe~ He is the number one hero, afterall~

That was all utter bullshit, straight from the beginning.

And even now he was still wrapped in the delusion that you loved him as much as he loved you.

A fated pair.

Please.

But you still held on to the pathetic hope that one day he’d snap out of it, return to the Izuku you knew from the beginning and not the person who now stood a few feet in front of you, staring with cold, emotionless eyes.

“I’m sorry.” he says impassively, face as blank as a new canvas - unreadable and dangerous in every way imaginable. It was hard not to feel as if he was just waiting to strike, already calculating his next moves like he always seemed to do. It was far easier to deal with an angry Izuku than one where you couldn’t read his already complex emotions, thoughts, anything. He was the definition of expressive, and it truly took a fuckin bullet to the back of his head for him to be like this.

So clearly, you hit a nerve.

Wonderful.

“Oh?” Despite knowing the implications of the situation you found yourself in, it was impossible not to laugh at such a pathetic fucking apology.

Knowing him, he probably was sorry, deep down inside. You knew he didn’t like seeing you hurt, especially if it was because of his doing, and yet- you pressed on. 

Pent up anger was a nasty thing to deal with, especially since it’s been brewing inside you for so long.

“Are you now? You don’t fucking seem sorry! If you were really sorry, you wouldnt have done it! But look where we are! You’re such a fucking-!”

“Shut up.” he growls out borderline maliciously, stumbling slightly as he turns to walk out the door. He was clearly fed up, his strong hands clenched into threatening fists, but so were you. Even if you were undeniably frightened to confront him, you wouldn't let that stop you from pushing yourself off the wall - your safe space - and wobbling after him.

“Look at you! You can’t even walk right! How drunk are you, huh? Washing away your feelings again, are you? What about my feelings! Huh?!”

You were pushing it.

You really were.

The entire house felt it, the air chillingly still as Izuku had to grind his teeth together so as to not lash out at you. 

He didn’t want to.

That was the last thing he wanted to do, but all that stress and self-hatred previously washed away was coming back up to the burning surface that cages his discretion.

Heavy breaths blew out his nostrils as he made his way to the living room, desperate for you to get the hint from his hunched over body that he wanted you to fuck off.

Yeah, he messed up, deep down he knew he did but currently his mind was far too clogged to even begin to comprehend it.

You were like an annoying mosquito, your words morphing into a persistent buzz.

He was ignoring you, and that made you livid.

He always ignored you when your problems were deemed irrelevant, or when he found you were being far too vexatious.

He always did this, always.

You were trapped in a cell with some asshole who didn't even want to listen to you.

Obviously, you had enough.

Typically you’d back off, go fume in another room or punch the wall till the skin around your knuckles tore open and dripped blood everywhere, making him snap out of whatever state he was in just to suffocate you in his toxic love.

Oh how life proved to be full of surprises.

A low growl of your own slithered passed your teeth, eyes practically burning red as if you prayed you had a quirk that could do something against him.

“You’re a selfish bastard! You fucking piss-poor excuse of a hero-!”

SLAP!

A shrill scream tore from your raw throat, the echo of skin burning against skin dizzying you as you were thrown back onto the floor.

Boiling hot tears streamed down your face as you sobbed out of pure fear, body shaking uncontrollably and you shuffled backward, desperate to get yourself as far away from him as you could currently manage.

It had all happened so fast, you didn't even have time to register it as it occurred.

One moment his hands were gripping the back of the couch with such strength you could see his knuckles turn a ghostly white, and the next, crackling, neon-green lightning surrounded his body, illuminating the dim apartment in a slimy glow. Before you even had a chance to register just what happened, he whipped his head around, his eyes, typically blown wide with sickening love and sparkling under delusional illusions, were narrowed and glowing in a way that sent shivers of immense regret down your spine. His arm whipped back with his hand, the very hand that delivered a painfully paralyzing slap.

He always spoke with his hands, and you just happened to be too close to him at that moment.

The reddended skin of your cheek burned, and you swore you could feel more than just tears streaming down it.

You were stuck shaking on the floor, imaginary bile rising in your throat, and all you could do was stare at him with wide, bloodshot and terrified eyes.

He had never laid a hand on you like that before, you didnt know what to think.

He always promised to do you no intentional harm, to never lay a finger on you with intentions of making you cry out in pain.

He had never acted so feral and out of line before.

It.. it scared you in a way you never felt before.

The gap between you grew, you really were just a mouse trembling in a lion's den.

“P-princess-” he shakily called out, voice weak and uneven, quirk diminishing into thin air like it never was there in the first place.

His own eyes were wide and filled with immense regret, tears already pouring down his flushed, freckled face.

He took one step forward, and you scrambled back, hand coming up to touch at your cheek, shock making you feel faint at the sight of blood coating your trembling fingertips.

You felt sick once again, empty stomach feeling as if it was collapsing in on itself to push even the tiniest bit of nonexistent food out.

You didnt know what to do.

Choking on your own sobs, you tried desperately to shuffle away from him, but he only came closer.

You cried out the moment he dove at you, your hands clasped together tightening against your chest as if to hold yourself together as this bear of a man wraps his arms cold, soaked arms protectively around you, his large shoulders violently shaking as he buried his snotty, tear stained face deep into your unruly tresses.

The stench of alcohol burned your nostrils, edging you on to try and push his heavy chest away. You tried, but you failed miserably, resulting in his arms pulling you even closer to his sweaty and damp body. It was disgusting.

“L-let go of me!” you wailed, your own tears stinging your eyes as your vision blurred and you could no longer tell just what you were staring blindly at, the dimness of the living-room paired with the suffocating embrace of your captor swallowing you whole.

You couldnt take it.

You could barely breathe at this point.

“p-p-ple .. plea-s-se..!” your cries intertwined with his own desperate ones as he babbled nearly incoherently on about how sorry he was, how he never meant to do something so horrible.

“I’m not a monster!” he howled out, desperate words seeping with ululation.

He was desperately trying to convince himself of that.

He wasn’t talking to you at all.

He was talking to himself.

He wasn’t a monster.

He wasn’t a monster.

He’s not like him.

He’s not like that piece of filth.

No, he’s so much better.

He’s a good man.

No, no, he’s not a monster.

He’s your hero.

He could never purposely harm you.

No.

It was an accident.

An accident.

You’d understand.

He knew you would!

You always understood him.

You were like two peas in a pod!

You forgave him, surely.

Yes.

Yes!

You did the moment he hugged you, the moment he started comforting you.

He was a good man.

How could you not forgive him?

He loved you so, so, so much.

You knew that-

You knew he would never do such a thing.

His breathing was even, eyes wide and straining as he stared at the floor, a crooked smile on his face as he repeated the words over and over again in his twisted mind.

He never met to hurt you.

No.

He didnt.

“Plea-” you tried once more, biting your wobbling lip as he squeezed you even tighter.

“No, no, no, no, no, no..” he heaved out, hand coming up to gently pet your oily hair as if to calm you. His head shook back and forth in your hair, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m so sorry, honey.”

There was nothing you could do.

You were stuck alone in a mouse trap, the cold, metallic bar snapped down on top of your frail neck.

There was no escape.

There never was.

His form of ‘love’ far too strong for you to even attempt to.

And so, you gave up. 

Just like you always did.

There was no point in resisting him.

Sticky blood trickles down your raw cheek, dripping down onto the chilled bare skin of his neck, still cold from the damp clothes he wore, instantly catching his wondering attention.

“You.. you’re bleeding?” he whispered guiltily, already feeling a new wave of salty tears building up in the corner of his eyes.

His large left hand trailed up the skin of your neck, idly collecting the thin trail of red liquid onto his fingertips and smearing a path up to your jawline, stopping the moment your shivering form flinched.

He frowned at the red mark taking up half your beautifully innocent face, a small cut resting in the middle of it where no doubt the ring he foolishly wore as an accessory swiped.

Guilt made his stomach churn, the familiar burn of acid rising in his throat.

A deep inhale, and he swallowed it down, arm still wrapped around you, languidly rubbing your back as he stared with nothing short of pity at your wrecked state.

Your lips wobbled, holding in a reply as you force yourself to look into the vast abyss of darkness that was the hallway of your apartment instead of his orbs gleaming with concern.

Concern.

Concern for something he caused.

At least he had a heart, but you were still scared shitless and wanted nothing more than to run away. You were still fighting to regulate your breathing.

His thumb suddenly pressed against the slap mark, ripping a yelp from your throat as your head flung back to avoid any more contact. It was then that you noticed a pounding headache echoing inside your skull, yet another reason to aid in the water running down your face. Pain consumed your body, and you wanted nothing more than to escape this shell you were trapped in.

Openly chewing on his lip, both of his arms went back around you, cradling your delicate form to his chest.

Without a word, he stood up, practically forcing you to have to wrap your bare legs around his waist to keep yourself steady, something you were trained to do by him. He loved it when your legs were around his waist whenever he picked you up.

It became a regrettable second nature.

Heavy foot steps brought you back to your bedroom, and then into the bathroom connected to it.

Your fears crept up your spine at the pitch black room you were forced into, remembering how you were in a similar position just a few minutes ago.

When would this cycle end?

Ah. 

It wouldnt, would it?

You were set delicately down atop the cold marble counter as if you were a fragile piece of glass, which, in many ways, you were. The tears had at least stopped, but your body continuously shook like a chihuahua, your breathing still hard to control as fumbled around mindlessly with your fingers to serve as a distraction.

He flipped the light on, momentarily blinding your sensitive gaze with its bright light.

Sniffing, you wiped at your nose, watching as he walked about the bathroom, grabbing a wash cloth just to run it under cool water. The rain was still heavily pouring just outside the wall mixed with the loud splatters of the stream against the white sink. It would have been calming had cold water not splashed up onto your bare thighs, making goosebumps prickle along your skin. Your thighs were nearly numb at this point.

After ringing most of the water out, he held it up to your cheek, staring at you.

Taking the cue, you hesitantly took the cool, wet cloth from his grasp and gingerly pressed it to the swelling skin on your face. You hiss out in pain, dry sobs wracking your body at the stinging pain and the fact that he was still far too close for you to currently handle.

The pain on your cheek paired with the numbing cold was a good distraction.

You chewed on your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut, freehand gripping tightly at the hem of your shirt as you listen to him fumble around in the cabinet hanging over to the left.

You jumped the moment you felt his larger fingers ghost over the ones holding the cloth to your cheek, cautious (E/C) eyes opening ever so slightly as you looked over at him.

You couldnt help but feel idiotic as you suddenly felt flustered at the intense gaze he was giving you, eyes now gleaming viridescent in the white light of the bathroom almost staring right into your soul.

It was like he was reading you, pulling words off your own frail pages just so he could recite them to you.

He did this often.

Keeping silent, staring for long periods of times as he tried out scenarios in his head of the words he was going to say.

It gave you chills, but yet, it made you feel like you were the center of his drifting attention.

The sun his planets revolve tirelessly around, repeating the same cycles like a record forever skipping on repeat.

In these moments, though, he became an enigma.

Not exactly something your fragile state of mind entirely needed right now.

You shivered when his palm came to cup your soft jawline, thumb absentmindedly tracing over your parted lips.

His mouth opened, ready to say something, but he stayed quiet.

Mouth shutting, he leaned forward, tentatively bringing you into another hug.

“I’m sorry.” he repeated, the words nearly as quiet as your stilled breath, but you had nothing to say to it. And he knew it.

He was used to you staying silent.

He would prefer it most of the time.

So he could sink into his fantasies, the deluded fantasies that you loved him wholeheartedly, that you chose to stay silent as to not hurt his feelings, and always forgave him no matter what.

That you would forever and always be his.

He wouldnt give you the choice not to be.

He wouldnt let you leave when you’re his favorite person in the whole wide world.

The only one he needed.

And he was the only one you needed.

Yes.

Of course.

You didn’t need anyone else but him.

And he didn’t need anyone else but you.

So what if a few more people died because of his mistake, he would capture Ghoul eventually. Regardless, he would always come home to you.

Always.

And that’s all he needed.

He chucked against your neck, having buried it in the crook as his mind slipped through his shaky fingertips.

The Big Bad Wolf and his Little Red Riding Hood.

God how he loved the comparison.

Perhaps he was addicted.

Addicted to you.

Even now, as he inhaled your sugary sweet, natural scent stained with the metallic smell of dried blood.

Pulling back, he gazed into your hesitant eyes, delicately resting his forehead against yours.

His hair, now dry and no longer dripping with salty rain, tickled your skin, making you involuntarily take in a deep breath.

Closing his eyes once more, he soaks in the moment of your warm body in his frigid embrace, nothing else mattered to him.

Just you.

Only you.

“L-let me see your cheek,” he asks softly, words not as wobbly as before,  afraid that if he spoke too loudly in such a thin atmosphere, everything would shatter abruptly like glass.

Your body moved on instinct as if you were used to doing as he asked immediately no matter what, pulling the cool cloth away from your burning cheek.

Resisting the urge to sniffle and flinch away, you allow him to rewet the cloth, holding still as he dabs lightly at the small wound.

“I know it hurts,” he breathes out, “shh, shh, it’s okay.” it was always so strange how his voice still managed to calm your nerves even after all you’ve been through.

Deep down, you knew he was still that loving and energetic boy you met back at that coffee shop.

If only you knew how sinister and twisted he could really be.

Perhaps.. perhaps you wouldn’t be in such a situation now.

But there was never any point in pondering the what-ifs.

All you could do was fight your mind from seeking normalities in such a relationship as this, if you could even call it that.

You wouldn’t succumb to his desires like you always did.

You wouldnt lose yourself.

No.

You couldn’t let that happen.

Or was it too late already?

You hissed when you felt the stinging seer of rubbing alcohol dotted onto your cut, cleaning the wound.

“It’s okay.” he repeats, cooing to you with a reassuring smile that should have made you feel sick all over again.

You let him apply antibiotic ointment and a small cheek bandage, his hands shaky yet careful. You could say he has experience in applying bandages.

It was uncomfortable as it sat on your raw skin, but it’s not like you were going to go and rip it off. That would feel like ripping off a wax strip on a sunburn.

Humming, he gingerly wipes away the dried blood on your neck with the same washcloth, not minding how blood-stained the innocently white fabric became. 

Next came your still aching wrists. There wasn’t much he could do for your legs, but at least he had roll-on bandages on standby.

Turning the cold tap on, he lets you run them under cool water before gently dabbing the stray droplets away, careful not to press too hard.

He really needed to invest in softer handcuffs, it’s just- those were the only ones he had, and he didn’t use them often. Besides, it never got this bad before. But that wasn’t a good excuse.

He’d have to order some online tomorrow..

Applying more ointment around the area, the kind that offers instant relief, he wraps your smaller wrists up as best he could, cringing himself whenever you’d flinch.

He’d make it up to you.. Pancakes in the morning, perhaps?

Izuku then begins to sluggishly put away everything he brought out of the cabinet, tossing what needed to be tossed into the trashcan.

He was slow, almost as if he was trying to keep his balance, which he no doubt was. 

Standing in front of you once again, he wrapped his arms around you, whispering “up” in your ear.

It was something he would always say when he wanted you to wrap your arms and legs around him so he could carry you like a baby.

But who were you to refuse?

It wasn’t as if he couldnt pick you up without your limbs wrapped around him, it was more for your comfort rather than his convenience.

So, tentatively, you wrapped your still shaking arms around his neck, doing the same with your legs around his bent waist.

“Good girl.” he praised as he began walking back into the bedroom, stopping just at your side of the bed to place you down at the edge.

Numbly, you let him remove your rain-soaked clothes from all the hugging, sitting on the bed in just your panties as you watched him toss the clothes in the hamper by the door

It wasn’t the first time he insisted on treating you like a child who needed help changing, but at least you didn’t have to walk.

It was hard to remember if it was a good or a bad thing that you didn’t care about being nude in front of him anymore, not even bothering to hide your chest as he came back over with a fresh set of clothes - the strawberry patterned pajamas he always seemed to adore you wearing.

You always looked so innocent in them. The shirt is far too large for your frame, the sleeves hanging off your hands and the large v-neck exposing your collar bones and parts of your shoulders. The bottoms were the regular run of the mill pajama pants, soft as cotton and comfy as hell.

The top truly was the part of the look that tied it all together.

He couldn’t help but smile as your arms immediately raised as he pulled the shirt out of the pile, making quick work of slipping it over your cute head and helping your arms into the sleeves.

He liked to take care of you.

You needed him to, after all.

You were his innocent, helpless little darling, after all.

Pulling your pants up, he guided your body down into a resting position, dragging the thick, grey, and black patterned comforter over your stilled body.

Such a good girl.

He tucks loose strands of messy (H/C) hair that fell across your face behind your ear, being mindful of the wound.

He stares at it for a moment, his expression holding that of worry and regret.

Pushing off the bed, he stumbles his way to the kitchen in the dark, having turned off the light as he went, the layout of the apartment burned to memory so he could easily avoid furniture.

In the kitchen, he opened the freezer and grabbed an ice pack, one he would commonly use on his own sore muscles and bruises. It hurt his heart knowing he was the reason you had to use it for the first time.

After wrapping it in some paper towels, he trudges his way back into the dark bedroom, eyes wracking over your balled up form, covers bunched over you like a shell.

“Put this on your cheek..” he whispered, placing the pack just in front of your face.

He would love to be the one to hold it to your cheek, but his mind was still hazy, and his words were still slurred. Events could sure as hell sober you up a bit, but damn did that nausea always come back crashing in through the brittle window full force when you’d least expect it.

Rummaging through the drawers once more, he picked up some of his own fresh clothes and made his way into the bathroom again.

All he wants is to sleep, but he also didnt want you to smell dried sweat and rain on his being throughout the night.

He knew you missed him, him and his warmth, you always did, right? No question about it. You must be longing for him even now. 

Wanting him to hold and comfort you just like always.

Numbed adrenaline pumped in his veins as he stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away his filth and regrets.

God, it felt so good to be able to somewhere warm for once.

The entire night he’s felt nothing but cold.

Not even the fire in his belly or the breath stolen from his lungs could’ve warmed him up.

He was mad at himself. Mad that he lost control and hurt the one thing that mattered the most to him.

Mad that he let himself get disgustingly drunk.

Mad that he walked in the rain like a dumbass just to soak your clothes and make you feel as cold as him.

But at the moment, too many thoughts were flying in his mind for him to properly think, no, he couldnt really even say he was thinking at all.

He was just letting the water splatter on the back of his neck, forehead resting on the cold shower tiles and he watched as water swirled down the drain like a whirlpool. His hair stuck to his cheeks like glue, but he couldn’t find himself caring.

Absentmindedly, his fingers brush across the fresh scar on his broad shoulder.

He swore the longer he stood there, watching the clear flow of water, the looser his grip on himself became.

He couldnt really say he felt anything at all anymore.

When did he lose himself?

Was he ever even really found?

Ah.

With you.

You were the missing piece in his complicated and skull biting puzzle, the one who made him whole and lit up his dull life. You were the reason he felt things anymore, you were the reason he still managed to get up and save people with a clear conscious.

You always had such a positive impact on his life, and he knew he had just as good a one on yours.

A wobbly smile tore his flushed face in two, you both really did need eachother.

He was so happy to have you in his life.

Knowing you’d never leave him.

Turning the boiling hot water off, he stepped out, the plushness of the bath-mat embracing his wet feet as water continued to pour down his nude body.

It felt, it felt so hot suddenly.

His breath came out in exaggerated pants, hands sweeping his hair from his face as the burn of bile rose in his throat.

Lunging for the toilet, he emptied his stomach into the glistening white bowl.

Gasping for air, Izuku whipped his mouth on the back of his hand, still trying to catch his breath as he fumbled to flush.

God, he needed to sit down.

Shakily turning the bathroom faucet on, he washed his hand, making quick work of brushing his teeth before lazily drying himself off.

Ignoring the other clothes he brought in, the toned hero simply pulled on a pair of black boxers before walking out of the bathroom.

Green eyes immediately looked at your form, just to see the soft rise and fall of your chest as you soundly slept, the ice pack sitting comfortably on your cheek.

You looked so adorable.

You always did.

Smiling once more, he walked over to the bed, pulling back the sheets just to slide his larger, warm body in and next to your own.

He sighs blissfully the moment he tugs you into his embrace, relishing in the feeling of your soft body against him.

Removing the icepack from your cheek, not wanting you to awake to a cheek burning from the cold, he places it on the nightstand before snuggling closer to you.

You always fit so perfectly in his big arms.

You were meant to be by his side.

And you loved it, didn’t you?

Eventually, he fell asleep, soft snores echoing around the quiet room filled with the downpour of rain still pouring down outside the large glass windows,

But you were still wide awake.

It was hard to remember the last time you got a good night’s rest, especially when the room was spine-chillingly dark..

Hard to remember what life was like before you even met your own personal nightmare.

You were used to the exhaustion, the dark circles kissing at the skin under your eyes becoming normal the day you were brought here.

Oh, how foolish you were.

You should have locked your window that fateful night.

But heroes are quite stealthy, aren’t they?

Was this even reality at this point? Or all just a figment of your imagination, protecting you from the true horrors before your very eyes.

Either answer wasnt one you wanted.

But you never had a choice.

Tears slipping from your eyes like they always seemed to do, you stared longingly off into the distance, the warmth pressed against your back pulling you further into your own bubbling madness.

All it took was a signal thought for this to all become normal.

For the pain to wash away with your tears.

‘Maybe this is ok.’

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 48

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman always gave Peter a sense of pride and purpose, even if he could only share it openly with a few people. It was the kind of accomplishment that made all the hardships seem worth it in the end. It also made him happy in a way he couldn't really explain, but which involved a certain connection between him and the people he protected and got familiar with over the course of his superhero patrols.

But being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman was difficult in a neighborhood where no one was actually friendly in return.

Peter’s frown grew the further into the building he went. He was pretty sure it was the same one Loki and you had been renting an apartment in, and since he was a rather frequent guest, the neighbours should recognize him by now enough to at least return his greetings. 

That was what logic dictated, but Peter was pretty certain the people he met in the hallway only gave him a stern, disapproving look before walking past him quickly.

Peter was still frowning when he moved up the stairs, juggling the keys in his hand. Then he stopped. The unearthly screams of the damned were muffled, but most definitely coming from apartment number 13. 

Opening the door quietly, he slid into the familiar interior, now echoing with pain and suffering so loud, Peter had to cover his ears just enough to move to the root of all evil  - the bathroom. 

There were many inexplicable things Peter had witnessed happening in the apartment 13, and to some extent he got used to the thrill of not knowing what he'd face next time he paid a visit. Still, he hadn't expected to see various parts of a half-drowned owl sticking out of the sink filled thick with foam and bubbles. The owl must've struggled a lot, judging by the amount of water splashed on every possible surface, and the iron grip you and Loki still kept on the bird. Even if Loki was not wearing his usual features, it was still obvious who your partner in crime was.

The two of you froze. Soap and foam dripped to the floor. Loki's new form shimmered with a glamour only magic could achieve.

"Um, what are you guys doing?" Peter asked.

"Trying a new disguise?" The curtain of Loki's new long hair was luscious and utterly drenched. 

"No, I meant-"

"Listen, boy, as surprising as it might be for you, I'm still me, just with a less… criminally wanted image."

"Yeah, only if 'ME' stands for mischief embodied," you laughed.

"It literally doesn't. It's smooth, but it doesn't."

"Thank you, love. Now, could you please stop drowning poor Barbara?"

Loki sighed, but relaxed his grip on the bird just enough to allow it to peak its head out from under the surface and take a deep, long breath. 

Peter put his backpack down and meandered closer, dodging the growing puddles. "Why is there an owl in the sink?"

"Because I'm not allowing any fleas into my house," you firmly stated, pushing the wings back under the water. "And I don't care how many hours we'll spend here, I'm getting all the mud and dirt out."

Barbara clung to her dirt with all her might, but was overpowered and utterly misunderstood. Loki's new form was slimmer, but held the bird with his usual strength and a big dose of satisfaction. The smirk on his face was unchanged, even if the features were new.

"What do you need a disguise for anyway?" Peter asked, looking for a towel. "Can I go with you?"

"I'm afraid that as wildly chaotic and lawless as our destination is, you'd still be age-checked," Loki cooled his enthusiasm.

Barbara rushed to the towel and clung to it, loudly exclaiming what, precisely, she thought about her caretakers. Peter tried to dry her up as best as he could through her wriggling and screams. 

"Are you sure all this soap is good for her? Did you use any animal-friendly shampoo?"

Loki shrugged. "I doubt she can get any more dead."

The boy looked at the owl. The owl looked at the boy. The ruffled and drenched feathers were sticking out in all directions, uncovering a deep and no doubt fatal hole in her side. 

"You got a dead owl…?"

"It was not my idea," Loki groaned, casting the bird a disgusted stare in the mirror where he tried to change the shape of his eyebrows. 

"You're just angry because she likes me more," you laughed while mopping the floor.

Peter did his best to become invisible and not stare too openly at the ribs poking out of the feathers. Barbara puffed them every time he moved the towel around. The boy couldn't speak owlish, but the small, crittering noises she made were definitely far from happy.

"Where will you be going?" Peter asked. The owl sat on his knees and refused to move even after he finished drying her on the couch.

"To the largest casino on the Moon."

"Wait- There are casinos up there?"

"Not for kids your age," Loki said.

Peter slumped on the couch. "That's not fair."

"We'll be back before you notice." You threw the wet rag to the sink. "Of course, as long as a certain someone FINALLY decides what to wear."

Loki ignored your pointed look, too busy with changing his hair color. No matter how many little details he changed, he still struggled with finding a form he was sure would allow him to pass through the guards unnoticed and unrecognized. It was a shame he couldn't use his own - it felt like a waste to hide a face like his. 

The owl settled on Peter's shoulder, immobilizing him with the claws buried in his skin. But even from the couch, the boy could see the remnants of a hurricane that had thrown a rather alarming amount of clothes around the apartment.

"I thought these were yours," he admitted. The owl kept on looking through his hair with the utmost scrutiny and very little gentleness.

"I've settled long ago on what I'm going to wear. As for the diva himself, though…" you gestured around.

"I need it to be perfect," Loki said. "I have an important role to play, I can't just waltz in there and be recognized."

"You could go blond," Peter suggested.

"Ew, I don't want to look anything like my brother- Wait, that's actually a great idea."

Before any of you managed to protest, a full-grown Thor stood in Loki's place, watching himself from all angles in the mirror. The clothes no longer fit, so he dropped them and dove into the closet again.

"...what have I done?"

You patted Peter's free shoulder. Barbara nested in the crook of his neck. "Nothing they can prove. Hopefully."

*

"I am not my father's servant," not-Thor downed another beer. "And if I want to relax for just one evening, I shall!"

The tankard broke into tiny pieces as he smashed it on the ground. The loud applause and waves of laughter followed the very Thor-like outburst, making Loki relieved he was playing his role well. Even in a place like this, crowded with drunkards and gamblers from all over the universe, it was common knowledge what the god of thunder enjoyed.

Loki forced his glamoured face to remain cheerful as another tankard of beer had been brought to him, disgustingly sour and rough. He knew his brother well, and was sure he'd love it, but Loki himself would rather bite off his tongue than willingly digest any more if only he had an actual choice. He didn't, and therefore swallowed another gulp to the cheering from the crowds gathered at his table. The cards had been laid out, waiting for the victors to celebrate their success, and the rest to decide how much more money they were willing to lose to the god of thunder.

Seated in a great hall of marble and gold, Loki wished he could play the way he actually wanted to, which was the very same way that got him banned from the Moon last time he had visited. But for the sake of the mission, he stayed just above the line between bankrupting and winning money, which added to the body he was wearing, was just big enough temptation to keep his table busy.

Everyone entering the biggest casino on the Moon was inclined to try their luck, or at least take a quick look. It was a perfect, if rather boring, way of scanning everyone who entered the rich complex of buildings. The few fountains set further in the back murmured as they shot curtains of water. The air was thick and warm, making crowds of people inevitably gravitate towards them in search of any cold. With the tall, lush plants artistically winding over and between the pillars, it created little areas dotting the impossibly high hall, where the pleasant breeze gathered the people looking for just a moment of relief. You occupied a spot beneath the fountains, where most people would wind up going to at some point, and used it as a second checkpoint, just in case anyone missed Loki's, or rather his brother's table.

"Come on, does anyone else want to lose their fingers?" Loki heard you call out to the crowds.

Between their never ending sessions of losing and winning the money back just to lose them again, there were many individuals in need of a drink and a quick break from the gambling. How easy it was to grab their attention with a loud voice and a dead owl.

Loki stretched his neck and looked over to where you had sat down the bird with all kinds of currency piled between its claws and a single coin shining through the open ribcage. 

"All you need is to get the coin out, what's the matter, people? Is there no one brave enough to win all this money?"

Greed has always been a major deciding factor for the living beings regardless of race and the world of origin. The queue only rose in length as everyone wanted to try their luck. 

The table under Barbara grew more and more slick with blood from cut and bitten fingers. Pure malice shone in her dead eyes.

"What an awful creature," Loki muttered to himself. 

He could sense the stolen pin somewhere in the vicinity, but the casino was a loud and chaotic place, with multiple areas each centered around a different type of entertainment. More than an hour had already passed, but whoever was currently holding onto the pin, had not yet ventured anywhere near.

The two of you were slowly but inevitably running out of time. Odin might've been old and naive, but his spies' eyes reached far and wide. Loki had little doubt he would be interested in his favourite son's apparent evening fun, especially if he had that particular son with him, in the palace. Thor was a good cover, but not for much longer.

And then, by chance or a generous turn of fate, the shadows stirred and whispered. 

Loki cast the dice, not paying attention whether he'd won or lost. His money wasn't real anyway.

There - by the high palms stood the Hoarders, clad in the worn out rags and way too much jewelry. With their grey skin and long limbs, it was no wonder how easily they blended in with the shadows, using their skills to warp their surroundings and get in places others would consider highly secure. But their success was not measured in how many places they were capable of breaking in themselves, but rather how many individuals of all races they could easily befriend and bend to their will. Although, to be quite honest, Loki doubted the necromancer had needed much convincing. 

There were only three of them, each almost an identical copy of the others, but the Hoarders were encircled by both their partners for the evening and whatever scum tried to befriend them. That made it so much harder to approach them, but Loki was already thinking of a good excuse when he rose from his seat. People parted, giving him space - much more that would be granted to Loki's original form. 

The shadows whispered again. One of the ladies separated from the group, with an annoyed expression on her face.

Loki stretched, making sure to put his hands high. Once he caught your attention, he followed the lady at a leisurely pace.

"What do we do?" You asked once both of you entered the corridor and disappeared behind the corner. 

"She's got the pin."

One more turn took you in front of the ladies restroom. 

"Time for Plan C.” Loki began undressing quickly.

Holding a spare dress in your bottomless pocket was not the wisest choice, but it apparently paid off, even if fishing it out took you a moment. Your hands shook. Someone might have walked in on you at any time. While Loki would be doing whatever it took to get the pin back, you would be the one making sure no one interrupted him…

Like distracting the waiter that was now staring at both of you. Focused on the contents of your pocket, you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. Loki clad in only Thor's skin, blinked. 

The waiter turned on his heel and disappeared.

"I can already feel the gossip stirring," Loki shifted into a more feminine body, quickly putting on the dress. "They are going to eat my brother alive."

"Do you feel bad about it?"

"Oh, my heart is breaking into a million pieces," Loki assured you with a smile far too wide for that to be true. 

He kissed you quickly before disappearing into the restroom. 

Life felt amazing. Loki couldn't help but imagine the amount of trouble his brother would get once the word spread about his whereabouts.

His imagination was running wild, but the one thing Loki couldn't imagine was how, merely thirty minutes later, he'd find himself in the dungeons deep beneath the surface of the Moon, half-drowned, and viciously bitten.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Hello

We need another sneak peek *PLEASEEEEEE *😀

You know how much we love the demon give us some mercy *pleaseeeeeeeeee *

Have a nice day please..

Ps : love your ff dude

I know you weren't trying to be rude, I do. So far I've been really fucking lucky in not having any legit rude anons or readers. But I just... sometimes it can start to feel like I'm this work horse, ya know? And sometimes things are like "... Hey 😔, I know it's taking a while but ya coulda asked a little more politely here man I work hard on this stuff." When someone post a 1k snippet you have to realize that represents a couple hours of work they put in instead of doing other things because they want to make these stories great for readers. So just, yeah. Please keep that in mind. But yes, here's a little snippet but nO MORE I GOTTA FINISH THIS DAMN THING 😩

////////////

She had this. 

Raven was right. It was just a friendly dinner. 

A friendly dinner where Clarke could possibly see what it might feel like to live out the mortifying ordeal of being seen as half of a… something. 

A something with Lexa. 

Clarke pushed the thought down as she twisted the handle, taking a minute to herself to breath and calm her nerves.

Which was all shot to shit the second the door swung open. 

"Hey, gorgeous."

The smirk that greeted her sent a flutter through Clarke's belly, her eyes doing a quick route down the length of Lexa's body. Gone was the skirt and skin tight blouse from earlier, all vestiges of the office wiped clean.

The usually wild mane of brunette was pulled back in a ponytail, an exquisitely messy one that hung over her shoulder and draped across the curve of a sharp collarbone. Clarke's gaze wandered along the waterfall of it, sliding to the cleavage that peeked out from the unbuttoned dip of a low-cut navy Henley. Her leather jacket stopped just shy of distressed jeans that clung to her thighs, calves, and ankles and stretched down to a smart looking pair of black boots. 

Clarke shook her head at the deeply pleased look painted across Lexa's face.

"How did I not foresee you managing to get yourself invited here?"

Lexa's smile slipped into a frown, head tipping to the side as she spoke. "... You didn't know I was coming?"

"No," Clarke sighed. "I was not made aware until about five minutes ago. We've been set up."

"Ah," Lexa breathed in understanding, shuffling awkwardly on her feet on the front stoop. "I should've known when Raven told me to hurry up. The texts felt very urgent."

"Don't know how you don't know this by now, but you can never trust Raven. And I'm saying that as someone who also fell into this trap."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"I can't uninvite you from someone else's house, Lex."

"That's not what I asked," Lexa murmured, throat bobbing with a swallow as her eyes strayed to her shoes.

Clarke licked her lips. Thumped the door twice with her thumb. Weighed the conversation from the kitchen that still felt fresh on her tongue. 

"You really weren't in on this?"

"I would tell you if I had been. She just texted and invited me. Said it was dull with just the three," Lexa shrugged. "Felt rude to say no."

"I'm sure that was the reason," Clarke snorted, shaking her head with an exasperated smile. "Not at all like you wanted to spend the evening with me or anything."

"Well you already know how I would've preferred tonight to go."

Clarke's smile weakened when Lexa wagged a devilish brow. 

Right. 

Sex. 

There it was. Why she hadn't wanted to do this to begin with. Not this way. Had questioned ever even fucking confronting the jumbled mess of thoughts that had been churning in her skull for the past few days. Because she'd set up these boundaries and didn't know why she'd begun questioning them to begin with. 

Something in her face must've given her away. A glimpse of her hesitance. The stab of something sharp and unpleasant at Lexa's admittedly innocent words sobering the smirk on Lexa's face. 

Lexa stepped in closer, one foot on the threshold, the other firmly staying outside. "I can go if you want me to," she said so quietly Clarke wouldn't have heard if she weren't that close. Wouldn't have seen the sparkle in Lexa's eyes from the porch light above them. "But I'd like to stay. If you want… You know I'll take any time I can get with you."

Never mind.

That was why she'd been having those jumbled mess of thoughts. 

It sent her stomach flipping and chest aching with something else entirely. Clarke smiled more genuinely, throwing in a cursory roll of her eyes for good measure. "At least you're getting better at being smooth."

"Just like making you smile, gorgeous."

"Mhm… in that case, I guess you can stay."

"Lucky me… So are you gonna invite me in now?" Lexa asked, the silky hum of her voice causing Clarke to sway a bit on her feet as Lexa lifted her hand to reveal a 6-pack of imported beer. "I came bearing libations as peace offering. Just on the off chance you were a little… cranky. For whatever reason."

Clarke eyed the bright label as she reached out to grab a fistful of Lexa's shirt, stepping aside to make room as she yanked Lexa inside and shut the door. "How did you know what beer I like? You're a wine girl."

"I asked Raven," Lexa said as she set down the case and shrugged out of her coat. "She's a very helpful secretary… Sometimes."

"She's a goddamn schemer," Clarke corrected with a grunt as she shot a glare in the direction of the kitchen. 

"Don't be mad," Lexa soothed and hung up her coat on the wall before sliding back into Clarke's space.

Her hands settled low on Clarke's waist, thumbs brushing over the swells of her hip bones that peeked out from beneath her shirt. 

Clarke felt a rush of heat flare through her as Lexa bent down and kissed her. Kissed her slow, and full, with the careless intensity that left Clarke spinning. That languidness Clarke had been struggling so hard to describe. She felt a moan against her mouth as Lexa pulled back with a smile. Barely reigning in a pleased smile of her own, Clarke worked to keep a straight face as she poked a finger to the flat of Lexa's chest.

"Hello to you too, handsy."

"What?" Lexa whispered, eyes twinkling in the dim light filtering from the doorway a few feet away. 

"We're in Raven's front hall."

"And? I don't see anyone else with us."

"Ya can't just cop a feel every single time someone isn't looking."

"'Cop a feel?' You mean like this?"

Clarke sucked in a breath as Lexa surged forward again, the length of her body pressing along Clarke's front as hands wrapped around her backside and squeezed.

"Lex--" 

"Lexa, hey, you made it!"

A reproachful yelp died in Clarke's throat as the new voice called from around the corner, her mind working just fast enough to thrust her hips forward to send Lexa a few stumbling steps back. 

Clarke shot up off the wall and turned as Raven emerged from the kitchen, an inviting smile on her lips even as sharp eyes slid between the two.

"Here I am," Lexa said without missing a beat, bending down to retrieve the all-but-forgotten drinks. "Complete with alcoholic party favors."

"Oooo. A woman after my own heart," Raven leered as she drew even, taking the pack from Lexa's hand and bussing a kiss to her cheek. "I'm gonna go pop these in the fridge, but make yourself at home. Clarke knows where everything is if you want anything. And dinner should be done any minute. Sound good?"

Lexa nodded as Raven flashed her another smile and turned to leave, Clarke barely resisting the urge to throw a middle finger up when Raven mouthed a silent 'lock it down, bitch' on her way out. 

"Okay, new rules," Clarke sighed as she tugged Lexa by the elbow down the hall. "Since apparently my very well thought out guidelines for us around people are apparently useless, let's just get through tonight unscathed, please? Yes, obviously Raven knows we're…"

"... Fucking?"

"Lexa."

"Friendly fucking."

"This is gonna be a disaster," Clarke mumbled to herself, reaching up to rub at her temples. "Yes, Raven knows. Yes, I'm okay with it. Just… please try to at least keep your hands in appropriate places. And no offering up details about… this. Us. I know you think it's hilarious to embarrass me to the point of wanting to run screaming from any given room, but in reality, Raven wouldn't let me live it down for weeks. So. Behave... Behave-ish. Aim for like a three on a scale of one to... you."

"I promise, gorgeous, don't worry," Lexa whispered, leaning in to nuzzle a spot beneath Clarke's ear as they rounded the corner into the front room. "I'll be such a good girl for you."

"Jesus Christ, Lex."

Quickly pulling back, Lexa shot her a devious smile, lip firmly planted between her teeth despite Clarke's shove to her shoulder. A throat clearing stifled the flustered rebuke that teetered on Clarke's tongue as the crack of a book closing sounded through the room.

"Sorry, I would've met you out there, but Raven said to give you a minute," Anya said airily as she tossed the book in her hands onto the table with a thunk and turned. "I'm Anya, Raven's…"

Anya's words seemed to die in her throat as she ground to a halt halfway around the far end of the couch. 

Clarke watched as the bored set of her eyes sharpened. Widened. 

A paleness slunk over her features as Anya stared at the woman at Clarke's side, Clarke's brow furrowing as she glanced between the startled look of her friend's wife and the relaxed grin on Lexa's face.

Throat bobbing through a few dry swallows, Anya's ribs expanded and released as she breathed in deeply. 

"You're Raven's boss?"

Lexa gave a quiet chuckle, Clarke's heart jumping at the dark timbre of its sound. 

"Guilty as charged."

//////////////

[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

12 Days of Christmas with Jack: Day 1

Pairing: Jack Whiskey Daniels x OC (kind of, written in second person though)

Rating: PG (general rating for the whole series)

Warnings: FLUFF the whole series is fluff, brief mentions of family passing

Word Count: 1,589 (this was suppose to be a drabble series y’all)

Author’s Notes:*cracks knuckles* here comes a hella long note section to start this off with. My lovely friend, Charlotte ( @clint-aww-no-barton​ ) and myself came up with this little series idea. I promised myself if I ever did a longer series I would not do it as a reader name insert so I came with with an OC kind of. Legit just has a name. I did try to make it more gender neutral but it may lead slightly more a female. Most things I tried to keep in mind or not add in so everyone could read it and enjoy it, plus it was a lot easier to write out with a name inserted. This series will be posted over the next 12 days with the last day posted on Christmas Eve. I am serious pray to the writer gods I can keep trucking it to get it completed for all of you. The beginning of some days may not have all this mess before it, I’m not sure how I will go about that yet but gosh I hope all of you enjoy this. It has been fun (and stressful cause its me let's be real). Charlotte thank you for putting up with me during all this and already thank you for putting up with me in the future. I am going to put this in its own masterlist under Jack’s name so you will click on it and it will take you to another one with all the parts. I will also link the previous part because it will have a connection throughout. Now that I typed another story I hope you all enjoy!!

Series Summary: Agent Jack Whiskey Daniels of Statesman agency has not been a fan of Christmas for a long time. Ever since the day he lost his wife and unborn baby the holiday always left him alone and cold. His coworker Ryder finds this out and is determined to make him fall in love with the holiday again. Follow Ryder as they set up different holiday activities to bring the Christmas spirit back to Jack’s life. Will feelings blossom? Will Christmas end up being Jack’s favorite holiday after all? 

  “Wait you’re telling me Jack doesn’t celebrate Christmas at all?!” You stared in shock at Ginger who sat across the break table from you.

  “Hasn’t for awhile as far as we all know. He has no family to spend it with so he either goes off somewhere tropical or covers Statesman for emergencies so we can spend time with our families. We have all tried to invite him to things but he won’t have it,” she shrugged her eyes full of sadness as she spoke.

  “That’s so sad. Someone needs to revamp his Christmas spirit,” a smirk played on your lips and Ginger stopped chewing to look up at you.

  “I mean you can try Ryder but I don’t know if he is going to take to it.”

  “Oh he will. I’m going to make sure of it. That man deserves to have a good Christmas and I’m going to make damn sure he does,” you smacked the table under you lightly.

  Ginger let out a laugh at your determination.

  “I wish you all the luck.”

  You gave her a smile and continued your lunch. When you were finished you went back to your desk to work on some more paperwork for Tequila. You had been working for Statesman for a few years now as a secretary. You helped the agents with the paperwork and the rest of the desk work some of them couldn’t sit still long enough to do. You loved your job. They were all incredibly sweet to you and treated you like one of the family. Jack and yourself especially had taken a liking to one another right off the bat. Constantly flirting and finding excuses to be together or hang out but as Christmas grew closer you noticed a slight change in the usually perky cowboy. You had finally broke down and asked Ginger about it exposing Jack’s distaste for the holiday season. You understood completely and didn’t want to overly push the ordeal on him but you wanted to at least try to bring his spirits up. You sat a notepad in your reach so when a thought ran across your mind you could jot it down. After the day came to a close you had twelve ideas to bring Jack’s Christmas spirit back and you were going to give all twelve a shot.

***

  There was two solid rings before his southern drawl interrupted the third one, a smooth hello making you smile slightly.

  “Hey Jack. Are you busy today?” You asked cautiously.

  “Not a thing darlin’ what’s wrong?”

  “Weeeell there is a leak and I’m not sure where it is coming from or how to even fix it.”

  “I’ll be right over alright,” Jack was urgent with his words and you could already hear him getting up and moving around.

  “Thank you so much Jack it sure would be a big help,” you tried to hide the smirk in your voice.

  “It ain’t no problem darlin’ see you in just a few.”

  You spoke your goodbyes before hanging up and glanced over your apartment. Everything was already set up for your little plan for the day. You almost felt bad lying to Jack but you weren’t sure if he would come over if you told him the truth of your plans for the day.

Your normal all out Christmas decorations were out and soft Christmas music played from a bluetooth speaker in the kitchen which was already set up as well. You thought Christmas cookies would be something small and simple you could ease Jack into this little plan you had for him. You were just finishing up getting things out and tying an apron around you when there was a knock on the door. You smiled before hurrying to the door and opening it. Jack stood there in casual wear but still topped off with a cowboy hat, his toolbox in hand. His eyebrows knitted together at the sight of you.

  “Okay I lied to you to get you over here,” you gave him an innocent look as you moved for him to come in.

  “What is going on Ryder?”

  “Ginger may have told me how you were always alone on Christmas and never cared for it because of it so I thought maybe I might do a few things for you so that you are not alone and to well maybe get you back into the spirit,” you fidgeted with your hands and looked up at him.

  “Oh Ryder you don’t have to do this darlin’,” he shook his head and gave you a chuckle.

  “No I want to. I can’t even think of you being alone on Christmas Jack or even during the season. I know what it’s like and I’m not letting it happen,” your voice was firm and a smile tugged at his lips.

  “So what’s first on the list then?” He glanced you over as he set his toolbox down and took his hat off.

  “Christmas cookies, small and simple,” you smiled and pulled the apron you had been hiding behind you out for him.

  He chuckled before putting on the apron and following you to the kitchen where you had already made the dough and had it rolled out and ready to cut.

  “I did the worst part but now we get to cut them out and decorate them,” you were beaming and Jack couldn’t hid the smile that spread across his face at your excitement.

  “I think I can manage doing this,” he glanced over the cookie cutouts that were spread all over the counter next to the dough.

  He picked up a Christmas tree one and carefully placed it down in the dough moving it slightly to get it all the way through before carefully pulling it up. You smiled even wider as he picked up the Christmas tree and smiled showing it to you.

  “See perfect!! Now just place it behind you on the pan and after we get enough we will bake and decorate!”

  The two of you cut out cookie after cookie, re rolling the dough when need be until the two pans you had prepped were full. You slid them carefully into the ready oven and then it was time to wait.

  “You can fix yourself a drink and relax. I’m just going to clean up a bit,” you spoke brightly to Jack before moving around the kitchen and dumping bowls in the sink.

  You had gotten everything used in the already soapy warm water when Jack came up next to you.

  “You wash and I’ll dry?” He gave you a smile and you couldn’t help to return it.

  “We can do that.”

  You started to wash things off and then handing them to Jack. You realized after a few moments that he was humming the Christmas song that was playing and you couldn’t help smiling to yourself. You washed the last bowl off and handed it over to Jack whose hand brushed yours and you swear you felt a shiver run down your spine. You glanced up at his eyes when he didn’t move his hand away either and caught him watching you. The two of you stood there froze in a stare down and you felt the butterflies erupt in your stomach. You let your eyes move from his to his lips for a mere second and then he was leaning in slowly. Just as the two of you were a few short inches apart the timer on the oven went off causing the both of you to jump and clear your throats. Jack took the bowl from you finally and began to dry it off as you rushed to the oven to remove the now baked cookies. You planted them on the counter and looked back at Jack with another wide grin. You pushed your little moment to the back of your mind for later and made yourself focus on the task at hand again.

  “Time to decorate!!” You were all too excited and Jack let out a laugh as he came back over.

  You moved around the kitchen quickly getting the icing, the sprinkles and metal tips for the icing. You fixed some icing up for Jack before handing it to him and getting a very questionable look from him.

  “I’m going to show you. I promise it’s not super hard.”

  You fixed your own icing and started to instruct Jack on how to pipe the icing onto the cookies. You watched him and smiled at how well he was doing. You couldn’t help but to giggle slightly watching this cowboy pipe icing.

  “What are you laughing at?”

  “Just seeing you of all people pipe icing is just wholesome,” you shrugged and elbowed him earning a smile from him.

  The two of you kept decorating until all of the cookies were done and you stepped back to look over your creations.

  “I don’t think they are half bad,” Jack spoke with excitement.

  “I think we did good too. Now to eat them!”

  You both grabbed one and very softly hit them together before taking a bite and sighing at how good they tasted. You quickly fixed the both of you some milk and you finished your cookies and downed the milk. 

  “Hey Ryder I really appreciate this,” Jack turned to you as he set his glass down.

  “You’re welcome Jack. Trust me I have much more up my sleeve,” you gave him a smirk as you turned to him.

  “Oh darlin’ of course you do.”

Tagged list: @jimmythegirl​ @arcadianempress​ @discogrrl​ @immundusspiritu​ @someplace-darker​ @thisis-theway​ @ohpedromypedros-main​ @scribbledghost​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @spookyold-saintjm​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​

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[george-mackay-macfine]

Fight Club. Part 2

Requested: Yes / No

Synopsis: Part two to fight club.

Word Count: 3,324

“So you and MacKay, on again?” Jane asked as we sat on the bay window in our recently acquired apartment.

“Off again,”

“What?” I cried, “I thought you two were getting passed all your idiotic shit,”

“We were till I saw him with another girl two weeks ago,” I huffed, “He had his arm wrapped around her, so I’ve been ignoring him,”

“I wish you’d told me that sooner,” Jane frowned guiltily,

“What did you do,”

“Baby,” His voice sent chills up my spine, “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you,”

“Didn’t try hard enough,” I muttered picking up my vodka and coke.

“Well after you ignored my first sixteen phone calls, I figured you needed to get the stick out of your arse,”

“I’m going to go see Dean,” Jane muttered as I spun around to face the dangerously hot man I’d been fucking for the past three months,

“Are you serious?”

“What is this about, because I know you don’t believe that I’m fucking another girl behind your back,”

“Really? Because you have before,”

“Low blow,”

“Truthful,” I picked my drink back up as George sat across from me.

“I told you, you’re it for me so what’s going on?”

“I don’t know if we’re going to work George,”

“Why?”

“We’re opposite’s,”

“Who attract, try again.”

“It’s not something I can explain. You’re just… You seem… dangerous—like someone I should stay away from. All the fighting,” I elaborated.

“Dangerous,” He repeated. “Okay, so you do like me, but that scares you because I’m different than the straight-laced guys you fucked before I came back into your life and showed you what a fuck really was?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Would you prefer something else?” My mouth dropped open.

“You’re insane.” His blue eyes were piercing.

“You like it.” I shook my head.

“I don’t.”

“If you didn’t, you’d be long gone.” I sighed. I did like it, and this exchange was getting me hot under the collar. “God, you have a pretty smile.”

“Stop that,” I mumbled.

“So back to clarifying…” George cleared his throat. “If that’s my other girlfriend, what are you?” Oh shit. It was a trap. We’d never clarified what we were, we just said we were it for each other, and now I’d gone and baited myself. I folded my legs under myself and pushed up, forgetting about the ankle I’d rolled trying to avoid George on campus. I yelped and fell forward, face-planting into George’s chest knocking us both off balance. George fell off the seat and landed on his ass, and I landed on top of him. George’s tongue poked out to lick his lips, a small silver ball on it.

“Did you?” I whispered amazed at the small silver ball, He’d only gone and pierced his fucking tongue.

“Answer the question,”

It would have been the perfect position under different circumstances.

“I’m just the girl you’re stalking.” George wrapped an arm around my waist, keeping me where I was.

“I think you like me stalking you.” I snorted a very unfeminine snort.

“Well, you’re a criminal, so of course you’d think that.”

“We’re back to that, are we? Don’t you think the stereotype is getting a little old?” The arm around my waist tightened. His eyes dropped from mine and focused on my chest that pressed against his. “I don’t know if you know this, but this shirt is pretty much transparent. I can see your bra through it. And that’s a lot of cleavage you’ve got going on there.” He stuck a finger in it to demonstrate. “If I was your boyfriend, I don’t think I’d be all that happy that you wore it to around campus today. Especially paired with this skirt and knowing what weirdo’s people are.” George’s hand eased lower to my ass giving it a little squeeze.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re not my boyfriend then, isn’t it?”

“Definitely a good thing,” George squeezed harder and shifted under me. “Way better that I’m just stalking your fine ass.”

We stared at each other for a half-second before I yanked off his beanie, shoved my hands into his hair and plastered my mouth to his.

George cupped the back of my head and rolled us over so he was on top. The seam at the back of my skirt gave way with a huge tear as I forced opened my legs so George could fit himself between them. We dry-humped the living hell out of each other as we made out in the middle of my living room floor.

I grabbed the hem of his hoodie and yanked it up, pulling it over his head when there was a break in the kiss. His white T-shirt came off with it. Under all those clothes was his seriously cut body that’d I’d missed exploring.

“I’ve done another thing since you last saw me,”

“Oh?” He nodded his head, “What?”

“You’ll find out.” I ran my hands over his chest and down his abs. “Badass enough for a stalker?” George asked, that damn dimply smirk curving the corner of his mouth.

“You must be the king of badass stalkers.” I tried to pull him back down for another kiss but George sat back on his heels. He untucked my shirt from my skirt.

“I don’t think you’ll be wearing this shirt again.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t have any buttons.” He grabbed the hem on either side and pulled. The buttons popped off, pinging against his ripped chest—seriously, all that fighting did a body good. I didn’t even care that he’d ruined my sort-of slutty professional shirt. I thanked the gods of bra design for the little heart-shaped front clasp on the one I was wearing. I opened it and set the girls free. They were like homing devices for George’s hands. He cupped them immediately, separating his fingers so my nipples peeked through. Jesus. He really did look like a criminal—an incredibly hot criminal who’d broken into my house - technically he was invited, but still.

George ducked his head and sucked one of my nipples into his mouth. I moaned and arched as I fumbled around, searching for the buckle on his belt. Finding it, I freed the clasp and went for the button on his jeans. There wasn’t a zipper to make him easier to access. It buttoned all the way down. It was hard to concentrate while he continued the nipple sucking and biting, but I finally managed to get them all undone. I took a deep breath I missed this part of him, two weeks is too long I wrapped my fingers around his shaft.

“Thank God,” I muttered watching as George lifted his head.

“Worried I wasn’t going to have a dick anymore?” I stroked the length, getting a feel for how much there was once again until I hit something that didn’t feel like it belonged. I looked between us, but it was dark down there. I put a hand on his chest so I could check it out a little better.

“Is that a—” I brushed the steel with my thumb. Not only was George now sporting an above-average cock, but it was also now pierced. I met George’s amused gaze. “I want to know what that feels like.”

“Go ahead and touch it all you want.” George’s mouth went slack as I stroked him a few times.

“No.” I licked his lips. “I mean I want to know what it feels like from the inside.” George grinned.

“Should I assume you’re not talking about the inside of your mouth?” I thought for less than a second. I could do the whole blow job thing another time. Besides, knowing my luck, I’d end up sucking the ball right off the piercing and that would result in a trip to the hospital. I’d been fantasizing about being pounded by George since the last time he’d pounded me, a long two weeks ago. I shook my head.

“Not the inside of my mouth.”

“Just to clarify, are you asking me to fuck you?”

“Yes, please.” George pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and slapped it on the coffee table beside us. Then he stripped off his pants. George didn’t bother taking off my skirt. He just shoved it up to my hips and dragged my panties down my legs. He lifted his hot gaze to hers. “Did you bedazzle your pussy for me?”

“What?”

“It’s all sparkly.” I lifted my head and tried to see what George was seeing, but I’d have to pull off a seriously difficult yoga pose to make that happen. He rubbed the crest of my pelvis with his thumb and held it up for me to see: pink sparkles.

“Jane,” I growled remembering how she’d thrown glitter on me to try and cheer me up this afternoon. George nodded as if he understood. He dropped his eyes again, along with his hand. He rubbed a slow circle around my clit, then went lower, sliding a finger inside. “Later, I’m going to eat that pretty little pussy of yours. It’s perfect.” I was sure all my sex parts had just exploded in their own glitter bomb of excitement.

“That sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Oh, it will be.” George grabbed me by the hips and dragged me closer. “Wrap your legs around my waist.” A shiver raced up my spine, goosebumps breaking out across my skin. George circled my clit with the head of his cock, then slid low, teasing me with the tip. “How do you want it, baby?”

“Huh?” I was too focused on the feel of his cock nudging me to hear the question.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” He leaned over me, slipped low, and eased inside. “Hard and fast, or slow and easy?” His question inspired an image of being pretzeled into some porn-star position and pounded. It was exactly what I expected. Except that wasn’t what I got.

George stayed deep, rolling his hips, hitting sensitive places inside my body. I held on to his shoulders, submerged in sensation as that piercing worked its magic and brought her to the edge of an orgasm, then dropped-kicked me right over the edge into heaven.

Sometime in the middle of the night, a police siren’s bloop woke me out of a very dead sleep. Shivering, I turned into George’s arms, seeking warmth. The chill from the night air danced across my naked skin, lining it with goosebumps. We need a blanket, I thought but then changed my mind.

The bright yellow streetlight shone through the apartment windows and across George’s chest. He slept in the nude, like any self-respecting, criminal underground boxer would. Smiling to myself, I turned my attention to his face. Over his strong jaw and scruffy cheeks, his eyes remained shut, his breathing deep and rhythmic.

I would never have ever imagined myself in bed with George as he was now, maybe the George I’d fallen for in high school, but I never thought I’d be with this version of George. I giggled softly. He was so different, but even now he was still the same George.

I shifted to get a better look at him. His dick piercing winked in the window light, cutting through the darkness and her thoughts. I winked back, giddy upon remembering his words. ‘Should I assume you’re not talking about the inside of your mouth?’

The plan formulated in my mind, seizing me from the inside out. Bold I was not. Ever. But with George, something spurred me on. Maybe it was his reckless abandon of convention or the way he pushed me to be free. I felt it warming me again. I wanted to borrow some of his bold. Maybe inherit it a little.

“Midnight snack,” I whispered and slipped from beneath his arm. As I moved, he remained asleep, but his brows furrowed together. His mouth slanted and his arm stretched as if seeking me out. My heart squeezed and my stomach dipped. His long, lean body shifted, scratching against the carpet as he slung an arm over his eyes. The other scratched his stomach before falling to rest against my leg.

Our clothes were strewn across my living room. Belts, shoes, jeans, and then I spied his T-shirt. I pulled it over my head, relishing the scent that surrounded me. Looking down at myself in it, I realised I looked wanton—all mussed and ruffled, the picture of properly fucked.

I needed to get this show on the road.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I sized up my best approach. I wanted nothing more than to feast on him, savour him fully and feel the ball at his tip against my lips. His hands in my hair. My name on his breath. But I needed to move slowly, gently, for maximum effect.

Careful not to disturb him, I moved into position from the side. The prickly rug rubbed against my belly. It wasn’t helping the butterflies already in there. Deep breaths in and out were my saving grace as I inched my mouth down and around him. Once, twice, three times, and then I was no lady.

Lust roared through me on a moan and took over. All sense of slow and steady went out the window on the breeze. In a flash, he was awake.

“Y/N,” He gasped, muscles bunching beneath my hand as I dipped again. “Y/N, what are—oh, fuck,” I nipped at him playfully. Just a bit, but it was enough for his entire body to snap with tension.

“Midnight snack,” I informed him, dizzy with need as I plunged my mouth around his cock again. One hand cupped him, and I reached the other between my legs to lessen the throbbing. George caught my hand before it hit home. “No,” He ground out, his body angling up off of the rug. I knew he must be getting close. When I tried to reach my pussy again, he slapped my hand away.

“My turn,” He demanded, smoothing his palm over my ass and down my thigh.

With each pass, he got closer to where I wanted him. Needed him. Two fingers traced from my hip to my thigh and back up. He swirled them around until finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please,” I begged around his cock, rubbing the tip between my lips. I shook my ass in jest. Something to spur him into action

“Oh, baby, you don’t know what you’re in for.” He surged up and slid backward to lean against the couch cushions we’d pulled down last night. His hard cock slipped out of my mouth, and I whimpered a full-blown you-took-away-my-candy whimper. I was fairly certain I pouted as well. “Give it here,” He said with a light slap to my ass. Instead, I crawled away, brushing my knees against the rug, taking my ass out of his grasp as I looked over my shoulder. He’d slouched comfortably like he was ready to relax and watch television, but it just so happened he was naked and his hand was moving up and down leisurely over his cock. His eyes, though. They let me know this was no game to him. He was going to devour me.

With narrowed eyes, I wiggled my ass for him to come to me.

“I said,” He repeated slowly, his finger signalling for me to come forward, “Give it here.”

“No,” I quipped, marching away on all fours. Quickly, he caught my ankle and pulled me back. The rug burn would hurt like hell in the morning, but for now, it did nothing but kindle the fire. His legs were spread, his cock jutted up, and I tried to reach for it …

“Not yet,” He barked, pulling one of my legs over his body so I straddled him, still facing away from him. “Give it here,” He urged, laying his hands on my calves. He massaged, deep and just a tad too hard, and waited for me to catch on to what he wanted.

“You can’t mean…” I dropped my head to look at him from below. Upside down, he peered at me, watching my breasts sway with my shuddering breath.

“I can mean,” He said, smacking his lips as his eyes drank in my pussy. “And I want.” His hands came to rest below her hips, guiding me back slowly.

Anticipation choked me as my pussy came close enough to feel his warm breath.

Shifting, he tipped my hips up to meet his waiting mouth. His tongue dipped and swirled. Slowly, he kissed me. Fucked me with his mouth until my arms, weak like jelly, gave out. I managed to prop herself up at an angle: ass in the air, my forearms on his legs.

“You had your midnight snack,” He said against my pussy. “This is my breakfast.”

I pushed back as George lunged forward, burying his tongue inside me. He ravaged me, unrelenting, unforgiving.

“Holy fu—” I began when I felt the ball, the tiny silver ball wreaking havoc on my clit. His hands came up and slid me apart. Fingers, tongue, lips, and a little teeth. I was melting from the inside out.

“Please,” I gasped, reaching for something to hold on to before I fell. He wouldn’t let me slip. Not yet. Not until he’d had his fill. I knew that even in the haze of my building orgasm. I felt him shift, legs spreading while his upper body shifted to take the weight of my legs onto his shoulders.

Closer to his mouth.

Jesus Christ.

I surrounded him, and he me. My cheek brushed his cock, and he moaned, the vibration rumbling through my entire being.

“You fucked…” I paused, my eyes rolling back, my awareness heightened from the sensations of his lips on mine. “You took. Now I want.” With a cry, I took him in my mouth again and lavished, meeting his actions with my own. For every lick, suck, and nibble, I gave a swallow, a pump, and a run along the shaft with my teeth, which I’d realised he loved.

“Y/N,” A warning, He was going to come.

“George,” An answer, I wasn’t stopping. I was lost in the single-minded focus of making him come, of losing myself to his mouth and—fuck! He added fingers now.

“Come on me,” he begged. He was losing it. We both felt it. Precise movements gave way to harried and frantic actions, that final climb to the top before we both fell over.

One more time I swallowed, deep, and with a groan, he let go. I kept going, enjoying the way all her senses lit up on the build of my orgasm.

“Please, Y/N,” I heard him say. Or I thought I did. I teetered on the wire until he pinched the nerve, and I snapped. Overwhelmed by the emotional surge, I felt tears streaming down my face, running over my nipples and dropping on his still-shaking legs. He slowed, kissing me reverently before helping my weak body into a more comfortable position.

Quietly, we laid together, breathing heavily. I felt dizzy, weak, and happier than I’d been in forever. After a few minutes, George’s breathing slowed to a normal pace. I figured he had typical-man syndrome and had fallen back asleep like a lump after he’d destroyed me, I was wrong.

“My girl?” He whispered lips pressed against my forehead.

“Your girl,” An agreement.

“Wear your uniform to the next fight and let me fuck you in the bathrooms,”

“You’ve only just cum, and you’re already making plans for your next turn?”

“What can I say? You do this sort of thing to me,” He chuckled his arms holding me tighter. “Do you like the piercings?”

“I love the piercings,”

[zippiestdraws]

Choking Curiosity Ch 9

ftm reader x Michael Myers

read on ao3

The microwave clock says five-fifty am when Michael creeps into the house. He shakes the dew out of the mask’s hair and reaches for the kitchen towel to wipe off the latex.

The book is new. He saunters to it slowly, leaving it untouched other than plucking the note from the cover. Your request in writing is met with indifference, barely read, but his thumb rubs over the inking of your name at the bottom.

He’d seen it amongst your things, but this trinket he can keep. He pockets the paper, crumpling it in his grip, and picks up the book. Beginner’s Guide to American Sign Language.

Michael snarls under the mask. Past anger wells in his chest at the words, fighting to vent through his fingers. They tried to make him use sign language in Smith’s Grove. He never wanted to learn to communicate better, even if out of spite, it was what he could control. The only sign that really stuck was the middle finger.

Michael climbs the stairs with a harsh grip on the spine, sparing a glare towards your bedroom door and throwing the book into his room before him.

*** You wake up with purpose this morning and only spend half the amount of time as usual sitting in your bed before getting up.

Fussing with the bedhead in the mirror, you brush your teeth when a thought hits you. You haven’t seen your new roommate brush his teeth.

Ew.

You sigh. You’re going to have to get him a toothbrush and some deodorant, you can’t imagine being on the lam has left him smelling decent. You gag. He better not have touched your toothbrush.

The book is gone from the counter, which you count as a win. There’s no response to your note, but you’ll take what you can get. You just need to remember to study your book too, when you get back.

Thinking about the cookout, you stop short.

‘Was I supposed to bring a dish?’

You groan, hopefully they won’t judge you for bringing some chips and dip.

You get dressed what would be considered way too early, but you need to get gas anyway, and luckily you did because, as you leave your house, you see Abtin approach from his yard.

He gifts you a tomato from his garden, to your surprise, and begins to tell you how his plants are doing. He tells you he’s gonna cook the rabbit that keeps eating his cabbage if he catches it, in the way he jokes for shock value.

“So, hey, is that your brother I keep seeing behind your house? He keeps coming and going-”

You choke on your own spit.

“I’m just messing with you, I know what it is.” He laughs and slaps his knee. You don’t know what you would say if you could say something. What excuse could you give? You hope he doesn’t mean what you think he does, but you’re the only person he gossips to anyway.

You’re relieved when he moves on to critique the spray paint still out front, but at least Halloween is next month and then you’ll probably be able to paint the house.

In another ten minutes, you pocket your tomato and make it to your car to drive for the first time in probably two months. Hopefully you’ll have enough gas to make it to a station.

*** You’re lucky you filled the tank before leaving because you got lost twice trying to find the turn off indicated on the map. Finally, on another turn back, you see a faded red flannel tied around a tree, and upon closer inspection, an old dirt road hidden at an odd angle.

When the trees part into a wider clearing down the road, you slow to a stop in the drive of what appears to be a tricked out log cabin. Putting your car in park, you jump at a loud whack nearby, someone splitting logs in your peripheral.

Jake is wearing what looks like a cowboy hat, but you’re more enamored with the way his arms look in his sleeveless vest when he swings the axe. You close your mouth and remind yourself he’s spoken for. Stepping out of the car and grabbing the food you brought, he waves to you, then points to the cabin. Right on time you see Dwight and someone you don’t know lifting a wooden picnic bench, and you jog over to help because Dwight looks like he’s about to get squashed.

At its destination, the other man introduces himself as David and slaps hands with you, throwing his arm around Dwight. It’s almost surprising, the two of them look like a stereotypical high school nerd and bully, but David tussles his hair like an older brother.

After letting go, he pulls you over to where some logs are felled around a firepit to “grab a beer and meet the queers”. You laugh at the overtness of it, and again as a girl with red hair chucks a bag of marshmallows at his head when she hears him say it. Maybe finding someone like you isn’t a lost cause here.

“Hey!”, when David opens the cooler, you look up to see Laurie standing there pointing at you. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you smile, glad to see a familiar face.

“I came with Meg and Claudette,” Laurie gestures at the two other women who nod to you.

“I’m Meg and this is Claudette, to be clear,” the girl with red hair clarifies and nods her head across from her, “and over there is Ace- and so help me, Ace, if you shoot that at me I will roast you over the fire.”

You turn towards who she’s speaking to and see an older man sitting in a blue, plastic kiddie pool struggling to fill a small water pistol while laughing.

“Here you go, mate.” David grabs your attention trying to hand you a beer.

“Oh, no thanks, I gotta drive home tonight-” you put your hand up, but he presses it into your palm.

“Come on, relax, just one won’t hurt. And if you get hammered, you can just camp out here like everyone else.”

It’s in your hand now and you nod at him, but you don’t want to reveal that you think beer tastes like shit.

Dwight returns with Jake and firewood in tow, Ace squirts the water gun at them ‘to cool Jake down’ and you duck out of the way as they drop the tinder into the pit.

“Hey, glad you came,” Jake says, dusting splinters from his hands.

“He brought chips!” You both hear David yell over from the table, presumably with his mouthful.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t bring something better-” you start to apologize but he tells you not to worry about it, chips are great and you brought enough so that David can’t eat them all. David yells back that he takes that as a challenge.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed this much.

It’s a warm enough afternoon that you don’t need to light the bonfire yet, and David gets the grill going while Jake runs back to his cabin to grab the meat. At this point you remember the tomato in your pocket, pulling it out and setting it on the table sheepishly.

“Nice tomato! I always bring a vegetarian option for everybody too, Jake keeps them separate on the grill for me.” Claudette smiles at you from across the table as she sets down some plates.

“Thanks, my neighbor actually gave it to me from his garden this morning before I left.”

The two of you talk, and you learn that planting marigolds with tomatoes is a great way to prevent pests and Claudette knows a whole lot about gardening because she happens to be a botanist.

Meg sits down next to her and listens happily for a couple of minutes before calling Ace over to challenge him to an arm wrestle.

“Don’t let him near the grill, everything he touches burns…” Meg whispers out of the side of her mouth as he walks over. You catch Laurie’s eye from where she’s standing with Dwight, Jake, and David at the grill, exiting the conversation before swiftly making her way over to you.

“I’m gonna show (Y/n) where the bathroom is.”, her hand lands on your shoulder, you guess you have no choice.

You swing your legs around the bench and follow her off towards the cabin with a shrug. When you’re a few paces away from the group, she hisses to you under her breath without looking and you almost miss it.

“Have you seen him again?”

It takes a second before you register what she’s talking about, but you respond before you come to a full conclusion on what you tell her.

“No, not since the first time.” She opens the front door of the cabin and you avoid eye contact. You hope your body language reads ‘upset’ and not ‘hiding something’. “I don’t want to talk about it right now…”

Laurie lets it drop, but sounds irritated when she points out the bathroom. On the way back you whisper a ‘sorry’ and she responds with a ‘me too’. You scrunch your brows in confusion, but head over to the grill. She disappears from your side but a thirty seconds later a stream of water hits you in the side of the head.

You yelp in shock and duck, but Laurie keeps squirting the gun, catching Dwight in the crossfire.

“It’s on!” David yells, dropping the tongs on the grill and vaulting over the table after her. Laurie runs to the other side of the kiddie pool that you see Ace getting out of, holding a beer aloft.

There’s a stand off on either side of the water, broken by David launching over it and landing one foot in the drink to lunge at Laurie, only for her to jump out of his reach. Almost in slow motion, everyone watches as his one foot slips on the plastic and he goes tumbling down, soaking his pants and getting a face full of grass. Everybody has a good laugh while he climbs out with a flurry of curses and peels off his shirt.

Damn.

Jake calls over as he sets one huge plate of hot dogs and burgers on the table and follows it with one of corncobs and what’s probably the veggie patties that Claudette mentioned. Meg whistles at the sight of the food and starts serving hot dogs after passing the vegetarian plate to Claudette, everyone falling in at the table to eat.

*** You eat until you’re stuffed, unashamed as everyone else does the same. The sun is sinking in the sky now, casting a pleasant glow through the trees. Jake deems it enough to start the fire and you approach to watch curiously as he strikes flint onto the dry brush and blows on it.

When he’s finished he tells the group to keep an eye on it while he fetches the s’mores stuff.

“I thought we put it out right here-” Dwight turns toward the logs, confused, but Jake takes him by the arm to bring him along to the cabin.

“I brought it inside because the chocolate was melting.” Dwight seems to accept this and follows along.

When they're out of earshot, Meg leans in towards the log you’re sitting on from her own.

“Jake is proposing tonight! I think he’s doing it!” She squeals a bit in excitement and tries to look like she’s not watching when Dwight looks back before ducking inside.

You share in their excitement and join Ace in stoking the fire into a roaring flame. You watch the smoke dance and carry some ashes into the air and lean back happily. The sky is turning from purple to deep blue now. The light from the fire dances off the trunks of the trees, and you take in the nature of your surroundings as your friends chatter around you.

You squint at a shape between the trees and it moves behind a thicker trunk.

White mask.

*** Michael would never admit to himself of ever feeling jealousy, but a certain irritation of possessiveness grows as he watches. His stomach rumbles at the food, but it’s of little relevance to him.

He spots Laurie and his knife is already in his dominant hand. The strings are connecting what he’s seeing to the same feeling of what he saw watching the teenagers in 1978. This time Laurie is collateral. Funny.

All he has to do is wait.

He could go after the two that already diverged from the group, but he wanted you separated. He moves closer to where you will see him.

The firelight flickers over your form, creating a beautiful moving sepia of you that reminds Michael of the old photographs in the asylum. As you poke at the fire, it licks towards your fingers and that are drawn back sharply.

What sounds would you make when it touched you?

Your eyes had a dream like quality, observing the realness of your habitat, peering through rose-tinted glasses to only see the welcoming nature when surrounded by the lurking sharpness of it.

He may have felt smug when the illusion broke around his presence.

Michael moves out of your line of sight, but he humors over the way a human freezes like an animal in the headlights.

The annoying man who fell in the pool speaks. Michael doesn’t like the way he looks at you.

“Oi, (y/n), you look like you’ve seen a ghost, what’s got you bothered?”

You snap out of it quickly, looking towards him and then shaking your head.

“Um, yeah sorry, I’m just...cold. I’m gonna go get my jacket from my car, I’ll be right back.”

You skitter off nervously, Michael can see the confusion on some of the other faces.

You make it to your car before scanning the woods and spinning to check your blindspot, but you don’t need it, Michael is already walking toward you and you can see the way the orange of the distant campfire glints off of the knife he’s brandishing. You step back, you don’t want to be intimidated, but you fear for what he’ll do to your friends.

The car door stands between the two of you when you open it, pulling out your jacket without breaking eye contact. It’s seeming like you can’t escape him.

“How did you get here?”, you whisper, not knowing exactly where Jake and Dwight are.

You wait for an answer, and when you give up on one, he turns his head deliberately toward the backseat of your car and back to you.

You’re incredulous, the main question you don’t want to elaborate on is “how?”, but you wave it away to get to the point.

“Please.”, you don’t know what you’re appealing to, but you hope there’s some leverage you have in the way he sees the situation. “Please don’t hurt these people. I’ll-”

What will you do?

You don’t know, but you have to save them from whatever he’s planning.

“I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll-I’ll leave right now, okay?” He just stares at you. He twists his knife once.

“The car is open, I’ll go make an excuse to leave and be right be right back, I promise.” You hold up your hands placatingly.

You do a quick jog back to campfire and it looks like you return shortly after Jake and Dwight.

“So, what’d I miss?”, you hope you don’t enter as clumsily as you feel.

Jake and Dwight turn to you on the log and Dwight is wearing the biggest sheepish smile and looks like he cried a little bit. You can see the little gold band on Dwight’s left hand and smile back, issuing proper congratulations.

You force yourself to say it, feeling guilty for springing it on them during a sentimental moment.

“I wanted to stay for the s’mores, sorry guys, but I gotta get home.” Some sad ‘awws’ erupt from the girls and Laurie looks at you suspiciously.

“What, are you afraid of the dark?”, David jeers as you say your goodbyes.

“No, I just have work tomorrow.”, you grimace.

he responds with a hum of acknowledgement before laughing.

“Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.”

You give him a good natured punch in the shoulder before waving to everyone and heading out.

Approaching your car once more, you can see Michael’s silhouette in the backseat and gulp. Sliding in and starting the car like normal, you try not to look back, but in the mirror you see the shadowed eyes watching you.

It’s easy to imagine how vulnerable you are to him in the backseat. The ride home is awkward, but only for you.

[lady-divine-writes]

Trading Favors

Summary: It starts with a chocolate eclair and ends with angel and demon trading favors back and forth while Crowley tries to figure out what he could offer that would be worth his angel making love to him. (2110 words)

Notes: Written to include @drawlight's '31 Days of Ineffables' prompt 'caroling', along with a few others. No sexual content - just a lot of warm fuzzies and some dancing at the end :)

Read on AO3.

“Goodness gracious I would give my left arm for a chocolate éclair!” Aziraphale sighs, his cheek meeting his palm when he props his elbow on his desk, the rest of his body sinking so completely into the gesture he looks nearly boneless.

“Isn’t that vivid? You could always miracle yourself one,” Crowley suggests, less than helpfully since he knows how Aziraphale feels about miracled food.

“Yes, but it’s never quite the same.”

“So you keep saying,” Crowley mutters into his partially drunk glass of merlot. He’s only had the one, poured more out of lack of anything better to do than actual want for inebriation.

Crowley’s in a bit of a pickle.

He wants to hang out with Aziraphale. More than anything. That’s why he came over. Doing nothing here in Aziraphale’s bookshop is preferable to doing nothing alone in his dark, empty flat.

But he’s bored.

So bored that the thought of getting up off the sofa he’s planted on and getting his angel an éclair sounds close to a grand adventure. But he can’t make it seem like Aziraphale is the one doing him a favor. He wants something out of it for himself, and an éclair doesn’t appeal to him right now.

Decisions, decisions, decisions …

He takes a sip to deliberate over - a kiss of alcohol against his lips to warm his mouth. It doesn’t quite do the trick since it’s barely a mouthful and he swallows too quickly. He licks his lips at the same time Aziraphale licks his, and smiles when he thinks of something that could warm him better.

“If I went down to the bakery and got one for you, can I have kiss?”

Aziraphale perks up, turning towards his husband and raising intrigued eyebrows. “What kind of kiss?”

Crowley shrugs – a jumble of uncoordinated joints moving independently of their owner. “Just a kiss.”

“Where?”

“Oh … well … I was thinking … on the lips?”

Aziraphale chews on Crowley’s offer while he nibbles his lower lip. He’s not about to say no, of course. A chocolate éclair for the price of a kiss? That’s two treats in one! Only an idiot would turn that down!

But he can’t let it seem like Crowley is doing him that big a favor.

He fakes a yawn while he pretends to think, bouncing his eyebrows nonchalantly.

“All right,” he says. “If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

“No, no. No trouble at all.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

***

“You know what I could go for right now?”

“Mmm,” Aziraphale hums around a generous bite of light pastry and thick cream, but with the smooth finish of merlot-flavored kisses clinging to his tongue, “what?”

“A glass of Midwinter Nights Dram.”

“Oh my!” Aziraphale chuckles after a swallow. “I haven’t had a glass of that in ages!”

“Yeah. Warmed up on many a cold night with that stuff …” Crowley gazes dreamily up at the vaulted ceilings of the bookshop as though his last memories of throwing back a bottle of Christmas whiskey is floating there amongst the beams. If he had a bottle, he could more than likely persuade Aziraphale to share it with him. Then maybe, just maybe, he could beg another kiss off his husband.

Alcohol on his husband’s breath, he has happily discovered, tastes much better than from the mouth of a bottle.  

Aziraphale chews the end of his éclair, thoughtfully watching his husband go silent, eyelids closed, a peculiar smile bunching his cheeks. “If I happen to have a bottle,” Aziraphale says, “could I bother you to help me with a chore?”

One of Crowley’s eyelids pops open, fast enough to compete with the speed of light. “What chore?”

“Move a few things upstairs?”

Crowley looks disappointed, but not enough to turn Aziraphale down. “How many things?”

“A dozen. Maybe less. But they can’t be miracled upstairs. They’re magic sensitive. They have to be carried.”

Crowley wonders if one of those items could include his angel but decides not to ask. “Sure, all right. If you have it.”

Aziraphale reaches underneath his desk. His hand goes straight for a cabinet by his knee, opens it, and pulls out the exact bottle Crowley was thinking of. Without even shifting his gaze to check, Aziraphale holds the bottle up for Crowley to see, and gives it a teasing shake. “Is this what you were hoping for?”

Crowley grins. He had no doubt Aziraphale had it. If he didn’t, Aziraphale would have miracled it up.

Which puts Crowley in line for another kiss, one that tastes of plum pudding, mulling spices, dried fruit, and vanilla.

But also Principality.

Crowley rises eagerly from the sofa, reaching for the bottle, but Aziraphale pulls it out of reach.

“Work first,” he says, setting the bottle back in its cabinet, impish grin twisting the corner of his mouth. “Drink afterward.”

Crowley, left reaching, his hand still hovering in the air, saunters sideways, eyeballing his flirt of a husband. He flexes his fingers and smacks his lips - his mouth dry, craving a hundred Christmas-flavored kisses. And they wouldn’t need to be on his angel’s lips. Midwinter Nights Dram would go great anywhere – Aziraphale’s shoulders, his spine, the bend of his elbow, the soft skin behind his knee … “I’d better get started.”

***

“Oh blast!” Aziraphale erupts, snapping Crowley out of his mellow dwam supplied by his second glass of whiskey.

“Wot?”

“I was supposed to have this book wrapped up and ready to ship before two!” Aziraphale says, glaring at a leather-bound book resting beneath his right hand as if it’s a rodent he’d killed days before that has somehow returned from the grave.

“And …?”

“It’s 3:15! How in the Hell did I miss the post man?” Aziraphale twists in his chair, looking out the window in search of him, to check if, by any luck, he might still be around. “I’m going to have to run it down to the post office myself!”

“Whatever for?”

“I really need it to go out today!”

Crowley is going to take it for him. He knows he will. It’s the husbandly thing to do.

Still …

He looks at his glass of whiskey and frowns.

He’d gotten the drink he wanted but he’s yet to get another kiss. He thought he might be on the road to getting one. Aziraphale had asked for a glass of whiskey. Things were looking bright.

There it is, on his desk, untouched.

Crowley assumes he’d been reaching for it, which is how he stumbled across the book.

It’s sitting directly in the path his hand was traveling to reach his glass.

Damn!

Crowley doesn’t want to outright ask for another kiss, especially not now. He might end up with a peck on the cheek and no more talk about it. He wants to work up to it, tempt it out of his husband … and possibly a little more.

“If I take care of it, can I get a shoulder rub?” Crowley asks, rolling his right shoulder. “Humpin’ all that stuff upstairs (nngh!) really put a strain on the old muscles.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes but agrees, “Absolutely.”

“A shirtless shoulder rub?”

Aziraphale manages to look unamused and amused at the same time. “You shirtless? Or me shirtless?”

“I’d prefer both of us shirtless, but just me is fine.”

And despite being in front of the eight ball, Aziraphale’s eyes sparkle at the thought. “Then I’d say, in this case, we both get a reward. Chip-chop! Hurry up!”

***

God rest ye merry, gentlemen Let nothing you dismay Remember, Christ, our Saviour Was born on Christmas day To save us all from Satan's power When we were gone astray

“Ugh!” Aziraphale’s head drops to his desk, his forehead making a soft thump when it connects with the wood.

“What?” Crowley asks, lounging on Aziraphale’s sofa with his feet up and his head lolling off the cushions, his manhandled muscles melting into the sumptuous, velvety fabric. His shirt made it back on but barely, the buttons undone down the front, his skin tingling in the winter chill.

“We have carolers!”

“I know!” Crowley groans sympathetically. “And they’re singing the worst Christmas song ever! I wouldn’t say Christ saved the humans from Satan. It was more of a draw.”

“I am not in the mood right now!” Aziraphale snaps into his paperwork.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Not you. Them!”

“Oh.” Immediately seeing an opportunity, Crowley shimmies up on the sofa. “What will you give me if I take care of them for you?”

“What do you want?” Aziraphale moans pathetically.

Crowley leans forward, relaying his request in a husky tone he prays might put him back on track towards seducing his husband. “Dance with me, angel?”

“Yes, all right,” Aziraphale agrees without a single thought, no objection whatsoever, aided by an offensively sour soprano note that might have come about with a hint of demonic assistance. “Just … get rid of them!”

“Will do!” Crowley launches out of his seat and hurries towards the door, but halfway there, he stops. “Promise not to question my methods?”

“Yes, of course. Just … please …”

“On it.”

Aziraphale sighs with relief, lifting his head and straightening the papers on his desk. That’s when he realizes – he sent a demon to get rid of Christmas carolers … and he gave him carte blanche on how to do it! “Wait a minute!” He pushes away from his desk and hops to his feet, following Crowley to the front door. “Hold up! Crowley? What do you intend to …?”

But the familiar growl and shrill screams coming from outside his shop tell him he asked a second too late.

***

At last My love has come along My lonely days are over And life is like a song …

The vintage vinyl spins smoothly under the needle of Aziraphale’s gramophone as he sways slowly with his husband, in the circle of his arms. He inhales deep, his demon smelling bitter and sweet: of cloves and spice, whiskey and wine, cranberry and chestnut, of crisp winter air and the new falling snow from when he stepped out the door and, for a split second, transformed into a monstrous, fire-breathing serpent to clear away the carolers.

Aziraphale didn’t entirely approve of this technique, but he can’t help himself giggling at how a dozen men, women, and children dressed in matching red tartan shirts and wearing wool pompom hats leapt five feet and scattered like mice in a dark room with the lights flicked on. But Aziraphale made sure to bless them as they ran, made certain that little Ryan Weathers would find that bike he wants under his tree, that Molly Stevens would get the game system she asked for (seeing as she was nearly trampled by, of all people, her mum), that Pastor Dorney (the leader of the gang) would find an uptick in attendance at his small church on Christmas morning, along with donations, and on and on. Maybe Aziraphale wasn’t in the mood for carolers at the time, but he can’t blame them for their service. They were only trying to spread Christmas cheer, after all.

Considering the cynical times they live in, it’s truly a noble cause.

Aziraphale hugs his husband tight and Crowley reciprocates. But they’ve been dancing for half an hour and Crowley hasn’t said a word. Aziraphale doesn’t think he feels guilty about what he’s done, but he is curious.

“You sure have gone quiet,” Aziraphale points out, peeking up at his husband, a hair’s breath from his lips. “Still mulling over the frightened faces of those poor carolers you scared down the street?”

“No,” Crowley replies, but a tiny smile slips onto his face. “Well, yes, but … I guess I’m just wondering …”

“Hmm? What?”

“What I have to do to get you to make love to me.”

Aziraphale smiles. “My dear boy. You don’t need to do anything. Just ask.”

“Really?”

“Really. Making love isn’t something you need to trade favors for. It’s something I enjoy. I hope you know that.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

Aziraphale presses a kiss to Crowley’s cheek and rests his head on his husband’s shoulder. They continue to sway, caught in the spell of Etta James’s rich contralto voice, till it hits Crowley that he may not need to do anything, but there still may be something he can do for his enamored angel.

Because he loves him.

“And another éclair?” he asks.

Aziraphale rolls adoring eyes up at his demon. “One for after would be lovely.”

Crowley kisses Aziraphale on the forehead. “I’ve got you covered.”

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXVI

January 12, 2278.

Good question.

Of all the operatives I was trained with, Vanth was the one who took to the program best. Our proctors will ask her to jump, and she’ll jump. If a contract holder asks her to beat a civilian up, she’ll do it without blinking. If a corrupt old pervert asks her to ride her fellow operative so he can get off, she’ll do it without remorse.

It didn’t happen just once, either.

Vanth’s just one of the many people I would’ve loved to put shotgun shells in, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget her cruelty.

Even before the first incident happened, Vanth had always been ruthless. Mag would scold me for calling her a bitch. She said that Vanth is just a product of her upbringing, made worse by the program. And yet, Mag isn’t capable of that kind of shit. Fuck, that’s the damn reason why she was designated as the medic. She’d rather keep us alive than shoot at anyone.

Vanth was different. 

If there’s anything worse than Vanth’s complacency, it was her enthusiasm in inflicting all that hurt on other people. Her cruelty comes from the hatred those responsible for the indoctrination instilled in us: hatred for the insubordinate, hatred for the Reds, hatred for anyone who doesn’t bow to the will of the United States of America and its thirteen commonwealths, and hatred for anyone different. She took all that crap and fucking internalized it.

She hated the protestors for making a mockery of the government. She hated her fellow operatives for failing where she succeeded. She hated Mag. She hated me.

That snake-eyed blonde bitch enjoyed hurting us.

Sometimes, I imagine what life would have been like if I had been as complacent and obedient as Vanth was, if Magwayen didn’t plant ideas that contradict our conditioning in my head, and if Percy didn’t come 200 years later to help me break free from the contract.

I imagine what kind of man, if I can call myself that, I would be if I didn’t have remorse, or if I didn’t have my moral code that I kept to myself, until this woman crawled out of her hole in the ground and appealed to my better nature.

I decided that I do not like that version of me.

All this time, Percy was waiting for my answer patiently, her hands folded under her chin, while she lies on top of me. I can feel her warmth and softness of her body, then I remember Ahzrukhal’s threat to her. I remember the Talon Merc’s orders.

Something dark stirs my decrepit brain.

If they had given me the order, and I had been that man who has no remorse, I would have been like Vanth.

I would have been like Stevie.

A rapist.

Percy’s rapist.

Fucking hell. That’s just sick.

Gently, I push my partner off me and sit up. I turn away from her, ashamed of the thoughts I’ve had. Her words in the hotel room in Rivet City echoes back. The fact that these thoughts disturb me and I feel disgusted at the thought of forcing myself on anyone should reassure me.

I should feel reassured that I am not like Vanth.

But I still feel like shit.

Percy wouldn’t push me to answer if I didn’t want to, I know, but given the circumstances, with Eulogy Jones exposing my past, Percy learning about my fellow operatives, and now me blurting my rapist’s name in my sleep because of a nightmare… I’m willing to pick at the scabs and the leftover bandages off of the goddamn wound.

Maybe this time, it’ll have a chance to heal properly.

“Vanth to me is what Stevie was to you.”

My throat felt dry as I confessed that. Percy seemed stunned. She didn’t say a word or move an inch, probably waiting for me to continue talking, or just taken aback by my admission.

“May 5, 2077. It was my eighteenth birthday… and our contract holder then thought that a nice fuck from my teammate would be a great birthday gift. I couldn’t get any enjoyment out of it even if my body did. I didn’t want it. But I couldn’t say no.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy whispers.

“It was centuries ago. She’s just one of many.”

“That doesn’t make it any right.”

“I know. I was afraid I’d turn out like her.”

I can hear Percy gasp in realization. “So that explains your reaction in the hotel… and how you managed to resist the Talon Merc’s orders. I’m sorry Charon. Had I known where you were coming from when we had that talk, I shouldn’t have made it all about myself.”

“Don’t apologize. I wasn’t ready to talk about it then, anyway. If you didn’t talk to me about what happened to you that night, I wouldn’t be anywhere near confronting my own problems now.”

“Okay. You were also saying my name, while you were dreaming. Big guy, what did you dream of?”

I inhaled deeply.

“I dreamed that she killed you, just as she killed Mag on the day the bombs fell, and I was underneath her again. You… you get the picture.”

Silence.

Gingerly, her fingers pressed against my sides, and she leans over, the contact feeling like a request for permission and a comforting touch at the same time. I held her hands and wrapped her arms around my chest, or at least, what their length permits. Her soft cheek against the side of my neck, the muscles and veins underneath exposed, she whispered where my ear would’ve been.

“Do you want to continue talking, or should I just hold you?”

Heartbeat hammering, my hand wanders to hers, dwarfing it, and I give it a squeeze.

“Hold me.”

“Let’s get to bed so I can do that properly, then.”

She leads me by the hand up to our bedroom, where I lie on our bed, still facing the door out of habit. Percy presses the back of my head against her chest, and she rubs little circles on my shoulder. This won’t go away overnight, but at that moment, I felt safe.

“You’re an angel, you know that?” I tell her.

“Pfft. If you were someone else, I’d have pushed you off the bed for calling me that.”

Percy drapes her arm over me, and I fall asleep listening to her heartbeat.

I didn’t have any more nightmares.

When I woke up hours later, she wasn’t beside me anymore.

Percy’s voice was muffled as she spoke to someone downstairs. I threw on proper clothes, and went down the steps.

“Percy, next time, I’d appreciate a heads up when y’all are plotting something in this town.”

“Are we in trouble, sheriff?” Percy asks.

“Let’s discuss that when you get to the saloon. See you there.”

Lucas Simms  was outside our doorstep, tipping his hat at her. Percy nods at him and closes the door.

“What did the sheriff say?”

“He needs to speak to us in the saloon. Something about the town’s security. This must be about what the slavers did to Doc Church while we were gone… Jesus what have I done?”

“Is the old man alive?”

“He is, thank God. But he’s not fine. Sheriff Simms said that it would be better if I see for myself.”

I nodded grimly. It must be bad.

“Let’s get ready. I need to pick up Dogmeat and get more winter clothes from Moira after that, too.”

Percy threw on a black shirt, then her Vault suit, followed by her jacket. She put on the cap she wore on the day I met her, grabbed her scarf on the way out, and I followed her out the house.

The tenseness came back to her shoulders. I squeezed her hand to reassure her, and she didn’t let it go.

The door to Gob’s Saloon swung open, and Dogmeat ran over to lick Percy’s face, Gob running after him. DeLoria was also there, with a few people from the Abolitionists, and Paladin Cross. Then, we were met by the townsfolk, whooping and cheering.

What the hell?

“I got you good!” Sheriff Simms exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Y'all really think we wouldn’t celebrate when a citizen of Megaton was responsible for bringing down Paradise Falls? The day you went through the gates, I knew I had a good feeling about you, girl!”

Percy’s standing stiff as a pole, eyes wide. “B-but Doc Church, and the slavers coming here and-”

“They can’t put me down that easily.” Doc Church’s voice. The old man comes into view, in crutches, one of his legs in bandages.

Percy gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. “God, Doc what have they done to your leg?”

“They mangled the hell out of my leg but the Sheriff managed to chase ‘em off before they could do anything else. Oh, don’t cry you big baby, I knew the risk when I decided to help you.”

The tenseness in Percy’s shoulders were replaced by shudders from her sobbing.

“I figured the town could use more vigilance ever since that Burke character turned up planning to blow us up. He might’ve ended up killing me if you weren’t a fast shot, too. Now, don’t you cry Percy, dear girl, you’ve done us some good again,” Simms reassures her, patting her back like a father comforting a child.

Nova comes over and pulls Percy to a corner, where she sits with Moira. Butch saunters over and before I can watch the awkwardness that followed, Simms walks over to me.

“And I suppose I owe you my thanks, too,” Simms said, extending his hand. “You’ve been a good friend to Percy. And any friend of hers is a friend of this town. Consider yourself a Megaton citizen too, Charon.”

I gave it a firm and quick shake. The sheriff didn’t recoil in disgust, and just tipped his hat afterwards.

“You kids have some fun. I can’t abandon my duties as sheriff, now.”

“Oh, c’mon Simms! Just one drink!” one of the patrons yell.

I can’t say that I feel overwhelmed by the crowd; I’ve been a bouncer in the Ninth Circle after all. I knew how rowdy people can get when they’re shitfaced. I’ve stopped brawls before. I’ve endured the obnoxious laughter and yelling.

But as I watched my partner surrounded by her friends and being celebrated by strangers from my corner, the gravity of our differences finally sank in.

Usually, when people see me, their first instinct is to stay clear, and regard me with fear or disgust. Sometimes both. When people see Percy, unless they’re raiders or slavers, they greet her, run to her for help, or check her out. Damn, I think that Bittercup kid from Big Town managed to do it all in that order.

Percy really is doing her best to do good. Half of the time, I don’t even know where she can find the motivation to stay that way in this shitsack of a world. Me? I’m just a broken old ghoul who had committed crimes that would send me straight to hell.

She told me that she’s just about to turn twenty the next month. Still so damn young to be shouldering this much responsibility, and yet here she was, organizing people to target slaver rings and doing her part in bringing clean water to the wasteland. On the other hand, I’m past two hundred, and I’m not sure how long I have before I become one of the mindless ferals.

My partner is burning bright, while my fire is slowly dying out.

The worst part is, I want her more than ever.

I shouldn’t be with her. She should be with pretty young smoothskins too.

Looks like I might have to turn her down, if she finally decides to stop waiting.

Percy has no future with me.

My train of thought was interrupted by Gob.

“Hey! Hey, everyone shut up for a moment. The news is on!”

He turned the radio’s volume up, and Three Dog’s voice flooded the room. Everyone went silent.

“News time, children!

Those scumbag Slavers way over in Paradise Falls had one big ole bee on their bonnet, and this baby knew how to sting. Gasp! But what's this? There’s not just one bee, but an entire goddamn colony, and their queen looked suspiciously like a certain kid, from a certain vault. You heard it here first, faithful listeners. The Wanderer showed up with a small army at slaver central and bad guys started dropping left and right. Reports say that among the people present are the Abolitionists Miss 101 herself assisted a few months back, a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, and of course, her trusty Ghoul Reaper. And to top it all off, they gave us one hell of a pyrotechnics show when they fucking blew that place up to smithereens. Holy shit! Slavers of the Capital Wasteland, consider this the big ‘fuck you’ you've had coming since starting this scurrilous skin trade. What an amazing way to start the year!

What’s next? Is the Wasteland Avenger gonna give the Wasteland clean, fresh water too? Oh wait, she’s already working on that! Good job, kid! Just don’t burn yourself out, for chrissake. Keep fighting the Good Fight! The Wasteland is rootin’ for ya!

This is Galaxy News Radio and-”

“Hey! They didn’t mention me!” DeLoria cuts in, and laughter breaks out.

“If he starts calling me ‘Queen Bee’, I’m knocking his door down and stealing his headwrap. I’ve got enough embarrassing epithets already,” Percy sighs, downing a shot of scotch. Then, she turns, eyes searching, and her eyes land on me.

“Big guy! C’mon, sit next to me,” she calls out, and I obliged. Gob slides me a beer.

“It’s on the house. Consider it as thanks for getting back at those scumbag slavers for us.”

I nod and down half the bottle in a gulp.

Yeah, damn it all, I’ll celebrate, why the fuck not.

“Oh, it’s great that I finally caught you two here in Megaton!” Moira exclaims, striding towards us with a box in her hands. Goddamn. And I thought I was going to have a good night. This is the weirdo that made Percy drink atom bomb water.

“Now, I know you probably experienced it before,” she said, motioning to me after setting the box on the table. “But this is Percy’s first winter out here in the Wasteland! Here, as a show of my appreciation for getting rid of those mean slavers, I got you two some warm clothes!”

“Wow, it’s like you read my mind! Thank you so much for these, Moira.”

“No problem! Maybe we could work on a winter survival guide next?”

Panicked, I shake my head and Percy laughs.

“I think I’m going to take a break from experiments for now, Moira.”

“Oh? What’re you up to?”

“We’re gonna bring clean water to the Wasteland.”

[semperintrepida]

The Sellout, chapter two

two: the big reveal

Kassandra sipped her coffee and surveyed the Portland skyline: the muddy river far below, Mount Hood backlit by sunrise skies as soft and pink as a kitten's tongue, and the laughably light traffic skating along I5. Roofs and trees, then trees in greater and greater numbers until they made a velvety green carpet all the way to the mountains. Portland had to be the smallest big city she'd ever lived in.

She sipped again, letting the coffee's warmth ward off the chill from the polished concrete floor beneath her feet, and she wandered away from the unbroken expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows that formed the eastern wall of her condo, back to the table where her laptop waited for her to put the finishing touches on the Yelp review she'd been dying to write since yesterday afternoon.

After visiting fifty — no, closer to a hundred — coffee shops in the month she'd lived here so far, she'd never experienced one quite like Cliffhanger Coffee. The latte she'd ordered was damn near perfect, but the coffee snob capital of the US was full of near-perfect lattes. It wasn't full of beautiful, dark-haired women with fire in their eyes who could pull espresso shots while throwing volleys of sharp, sharp words at the first sign of a threat.

Despite turning up the dials on her charm and attentiveness, Kassandra had gotten skewered almost as soon as she'd opened her mouth. After two years of living with Pacific Northwest passive aggressiveness, the woman's flat-out, in-your-face aggressiveness had hit Kassandra like the first taste of a sea breeze after years in the desert.

She'd savored every sip of that latte while walking up Belmont back to her car, and later on, she'd fallen asleep thinking about the woman's sharp words, the muscled lines of her forearms, and how they'd disappeared into blackwork tattoos that ran under the rolled-up sleeves of her flannel shirt. Trees on one arm and plants on the other, ferns giving way to some kind of vine, twisting in intricate lines on her skin...

Kassandra shook the thought away and focused on the text she'd written. Come for the delicious drinks, stay if the barista likes you... She tapped a finger against her chin in thought, then typed out one final sentence before she clicked "Post Review."

She examined her handiwork with a satisfied grin, then finished off the last of her coffee. Maybe she could squeeze in a visit to the other side of the river after her one o'clock planning meeting downtown. She picked up her phone.

Dessa answered in the middle of the first ring. "Good morning, Kassandra." She'd been Kassandra's assistant long enough to know her working hours went from seven a.m. to seven p.m. and often beyond.

"Dessa. Good morning. How's my two to four looking this afternoon?"

Quiet click-clicks as Dessa brought up her calendar. "You've got a one-on-one with Trevor Adams from two-thirty to three-thirty."

"Reschedule him to early next week."

"Consider it done."

"Any messages for me?"

"Kevin would like you to call, but he says it's not urgent."

Kassandra snorted. A CEO's not urgent merely meant right now instead of yesterday. "Coordinate a call with Lisa so I can talk to him at his earliest convenience." Lisa, his long-suffering admin assistant, who'd followed him from Microsoft to Juniper and every other stop along the way.

"It'll probably be around eight-thirty."

"That works." She drummed her fingers on the tabletop. "How're things back at the ranch?"

A sigh. "Markos has been looking for you."

Kassandra rolled her eyes. "He can make a calendar request like everyone else."

"I told him that, but you know how he is."

She did, all too well. He liked his meetings with her to be in person and off the record, like he was some big-shot politician instead of a middling marketing executive. "I'll be on site tomorrow morning. If he weasels by again, tell him he can buy me lunch."

"Will do. Anything else you need?"

"That's it for now. Thanks, Dessa."

She gave one last smirking glance at Yelp, then closed the browser tab and pulled up Outlook. The number of messages in her inbox had reached quadruple digits, and she made a mental note to spend some time cleaning it up later. She scrolled around until she found the email she wanted, then picked up her phone again. "Hi, Evelyn. It's Kassandra. Ready to start crunching those square footage numbers on the southeast flagship?"

.oOo.

A little after two o'clock, Kassandra turned her Audi R8 onto the looping ramp that led up to the Morrison Bridge, and just past the apex of the curve, she punched the gas and grinned as the big V10 began to howl. The acceleration shoved her hard into her seat, and it was like sitting in a recliner strapped to a rocket, more than making up for the fact that the car only came with an automatic transmission. No matter. If she wanted to shift gears herself, she had motorcycles for that.

She found a place to park on a side street off Belmont, slung her laptop bag over her shoulder, then backtracked a couple of blocks to the building that housed Cliffanger Coffee. The neighborhood wore its light industrial roots proudly: lots of brick and corrugated metal, and the coffeeshop's building was no exception. The ground floor units had lofted ceilings, but there were two more floors above them that looked like they'd been converted into apartments sometime in the last forty years. Likely rent controlled. Probably what had kept the owner from tearing it all down and putting up a mixed use development in its place.

A development on a street corner like this could net tens of millions.

The corner unit was occupied by a store selling overpriced furniture, and she scanned the price tags through the windows as she passed: five-hundred-dollar end tables and six-thousand-dollar couches. The store had probably been open for less than a year. She wondered what had been in its place a decade ago, when the coffee shop next door had moved in and nudged this neighborhood a little further down the path of gentrification.

A slate-colored sign bearing the words "Cliffhanger Coffee" hung over the door, the bold white lettering in a font that was clean and timeless rather than trendy, set over an angular slash that was more suggestive of a cliff than explicit.

Kassandra pushed the door open and stepped inside. Busier today, with customers dotting the interior tables, and the same three people from yesterday seated at the couches, deep in conversation. The woman — the owner, Kassandra reminded herself — was at the register, smiling as she handed a cup to a customer. At the sound of the door opening, her gaze slid from the man, to Kassandra, then back again.

The woman's smile faded as soon as the customer turned his back to her. She wore a blue and white plaid button-down with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and tight black jeans. The buckle of her belt glinted silver under the menu board's lights. "What do you want?" she asked as Kassandra walked up to the counter, her gaze as opaque as smoked glass, and Kassandra knew she wasn't really asking about a drink.

"I'll take a double shot, bone dry cappuccino, please."

The woman's eyes narrowed a fraction as Kassandra's weaponized order hit its mark. "Four dollars and thirty cents," she said flatly, slamming her fingertip into the register's touchscreen so hard its plastic casing creaked. This time, Kassandra took a good look at the woman's hands: long and slender, implying fine bones within, but her fingers were wrapped with muscles, as were her wrists and forearms, powerful lines disappearing into black foliage and vines that climbed up her arm.

That kind of muscle didn't come from pulling shots at an espresso machine — it came from training and effort. Kassandra knew it well; she wore it herself from her neck to her calves, earned it in the weight room and on the pitch, and, once everyone figured out she'd grow up to be tall instead of fast, on the basketball court. The woman had probably started young at whatever sport it was, but she was too tall and lean to be a gymnast, and no soccer player who wasn't a goalkeeper had wrists like that, and she wasn't tall enough to be a keeper anyway...

Kassandra realized she was staring, and her fingers fumbled at her wallet inside her suit jacket's pocket. It took her two tries to pull a twenty from the cash in her money clip, and she made herself take a slow breath before she pushed it across the counter. "Can you make that drink for here, please?" she asked once she'd regained her poise.

The woman tilted her head and eyed the twenty. Her look could have shattered concrete. Then the twenty disappeared into the cash drawer and a stack of coins and bills took its place. "You might as well have a seat," she said, tossing the words over her shoulder as she moved to the espresso machine.

And just like the day before, the woman's shroud of irritation fell away as soon as she focused her full attention on making the drink, her eyes lighting up with a clean, unburdened joy. This woman was the one Kassandra wanted to talk to. She wanted to ask, Does it feel the same way for you too? It was beating everyone in the paint to a rebound, or hitting a holeshot on the racetrack, that flowing perfection where everything is just so and all is right in the world. Kassandra had spent a lifetime chasing it.

One espresso shot and two full pitchers of steamed milkfoam later, the drink slid across the counter. "Bone dry," the woman said in a voice to match.

Kassandra picked up the cup, murmuring her thanks before she drifted around the perimeter of the shop. Lots of brick and exposed metal, softened by green plants. Real ones. This place would Instagram well. She sipped the drink, the hot espresso tunneling through a thick layer of fluffy foam, completely free of milk and its diluting effects. Yesterday's latte had been near-perfect, but this drink was perfection in every way, its components correctly proportioned, the shot ecstatically good. She needed to find out who the woman's coffee roaster was.

A set of shelves crammed with books occupied much of the back wall, under a small, hand-lettered sign reading take one, leave one. Past the shelves, a bulletin board hung over a small self-service bar that held carafes of cream and a variety of sweeteners. Kassandra's eye lingered on a line of brightly colored stickers running along the edge of the board: Best of Portland 2010, Best of Portland 2011, 2012, 2013... all the way to last year, 2017.

She chose a table against the wall that was mostly hidden from the counter's line of sight, pulled her laptop from her bag, sat down, and pretended to get to work.

A steady stream of customers passed through the doors of the shop, despite the doldrums of the mid-afternoon, and the thread of tension wound tight around the woman's voice began to loosen as she filled orders and chatted with customers. Once, she even laughed, low and round and rich, the sound fuming in the air like a good bourbon. Until that moment, Kassandra wasn't sure the woman was capable of it.

The shop began to empty out as the clock swept past three. Kassandra packed her laptop away and carefully set the empty cup into the bus tub under the self-service bar. She strolled over to the counter, ignoring the hostile glances from the regulars at the couches. There was a jar full of business cards next to the register she hadn't noticed before. Enter to win a ten-pack of drinks written in strong, angular lettering.

The woman turned to her and crossed her arms.

"The drink was perfect," Kassandra said.

Silence.

"I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't give it to you."

Not this way, Kassandra wanted to say. Let's not do it like this. Let's just talk. Tell me about your coffee: who grew it, where it came from, and what drew you to doing this? Because she wanted to see that bright joy return to the woman's eyes instead of the anger living there now. "You don't like me at all, do you?"

"Have you given me a reason to like you?"

"Have I given you a reason not to?" Her brows knit with real confusion. "If I've caused any offense, I'm sorry."

"You seem to think that I have to give you the time of day because you're dropping twenties on drinks."

That stung. "Consider it compensation for wasting your precious time, then." She had tried to be nice from several angles, but had bounced off the mirror finish of the woman's anger every time. Nice didn't work on everyone. She'd keep her interest professional then, and run a different play from the playbook. "I guess you really wanted that fifth star," she said, and then she reached into her laptop bag and fished out one of her business cards, and she smirked as she caught a glimpse of a siren's enigmatic smile looking out from a familiar green circle. She locked eyes with the woman and threw the card into the jar by the till. "See you later."

As she walked out the door and onto the sidewalk, she couldn't help but grin. She would have loved to see the woman's face as she read the words on the card:

Kassandra Agiadis Vice President of International Real Estate Development Starbucks Coffee Company

Chapter two of The Sellout. Continued in chapter three...

[briefololtragedy]

Something to Stay Part 4

Sakura X Itachi

Prequel to Say anything

Itachi doesn’t like being called Uchiha-san.

Rating G

Call me by my name

It was 4:55 when Sakura rushed into the locker room to change into her scrubs for the day. She was always at least 15 minutes early, but this morning it was hard to get up. Sasuke had so many questions and worry for his brother, by the time she go to answering all of then it after 11pm and she wanted to crash into bed, which she did the moment she got home. Shower be damned!

Her alarm woke her from sleep at 430, apparently she snoozed it at 4am. Next thing she knew she bolted out of the bed, almost tripped on her bedding that was now on the floor of her bedroom. When she says almost tripped, she means full on face plant to the floor. A quick shower to wash of the hospital grim just for it to be replaced by a new layer. There was no time to dry her hair, which she put into a quick messy bun. Looking in the mirror after throwing on a simple pair of skinny jeans and oversized T-shirt with a bowl of ramen on it, she noticed the bumps on her face and the slight break out she has gotten due wearing surgical mask so long yesterday and only eating cookies. Looking at her watch, it was 445, the time she normally got to work. She grabbed her Toms and ran out the door.

Sakura made it to handoff just as the clock hanged to 5. Kabuto looked smug. “You look like a walking disaster this morning. Try to put yourself together before seeing patients. We don’t want you giving them a heart attack with how dreadful you look.”

Sakura found herself having to count to 10. She could not punch Kabuto, in the face multiple times, it would be unprofessional. She was sure he was upset with her getting to assist yesterday. They had 20 patients to cover. Kabuto took 4 and split the rest between her and the other intern. Anticipation and worry came to her briefly, knowing that she would have to take care of Itachi. She hoped Sasuke and his parents got what ever peaceful rest they could obtain. She heard the nurses complaining how Fugaku demanded them be able to stay past visiting hours to see that Itachi’s needs were being meet. She planned to pre-round on him last, so she could make a quick escape to meet before the formal rounds with Dr. Senju.

She finished going through the charts of her other patients in record time and able to quickly examine them with no problems. She had a couple appendectomies, cholecystectomies, and hernia repairs. She had one hernia repair who tried to get a little to handsy when she was examining his abdomen. Sakura made a mental note to have a nurse with her the next time she had to be in the room with him.

She had 20 minutes before she had to meet with her team. She planned on taking 5-10 minutes to quickly check on Itachi and then get coffee. She already downed her first cup when she was sitting in front of her computer. Sakura also didn’t care to fix her appearance, aside from her dark circles, she looked presentable. She wasn’t here to appeal to the male sex, she wanted to learn and follow in the footsteps of Dr. Senju.

Hana quickly gave her a report on how Itachi was doing. He had woken up in the middle of the night and went back to sleep after some pain medication was given. His family had left before he fell asleep, which came to be a relief for the nurses working. He was still resting this morning.

Sakura took a deep breath, gently knocked on his door. Hearing no response, which she expected, she entered.

Many years have gone by since she last saw the oldest son of Mikoto and Fugaku. From what she remembers when she was 11, he was a tall, dark, intimidating force. He once snuck her some dango that Sasuke didn’t want following her punching him in the face. His parents weren’t happy with her. She had ran off into their gardens after the incident.

This man laying on the bed sleeping was not the picture that she carried with her all these years. He looked paler than normal, his lines under his eyes were more pronounced, IVs in both his arms, and the IV poll on his right side. His heart tracing looked steady, no arrhythmias. Oxygen saturation was perfect. His breathing pattern and heart rate on the lower side confirmed he was in a deep sleep.

“Uchiha-san, its Dr. Haruno. I will be taking a quick listen to you and then will want to look at your surgical incision.” She had placed on her hand on his left arm, gently trying to get him to stir. She then went about assessing him this morning.

It was now time to look at his incision and knew she would have to be more forceful when trying to get him awake. He started to stir.

“Uchiha-san, its Dr. Haruno. I am just going to check your abdomen quickly to make sure everything is ok. How is your pain?” Those words brought Itachi out of his dream world and as he opened his eyes he was met with the most color he has ever seen, bright pink and emerald. He was once again reminded of a cherry blossom field.

As his eyes started to focus more he was met with Sakura. Gone was the scrawny little thing, and now before him stood a grown women. She still had delicate features, gone was the baby fat of her face. Her hair was on the top of her head in a bun. No makeup on her face, which was a breath of fresh air compared to the other women he has come across over the years.

“I will need to bring your covers down to get access to your bandages, is that ok?” Her eyes were warm and welcoming. She had a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He didn’t answer her right away, but went to slowly push his blankets down. The slight crunch he did caused pain to shoot through his abdomen.

“Uchiha-san you should let me do that for you. It wasn’t even 24 hours ago that you have an intense surgery. I will let nurse Hana now that you will need one of your as needed pain medications.” Her voice was smooth like honey.

He didn’t even notice as she removed the bandages on his abdomen and inspected the site. She worked quickly and professionally. After she was done looking she redid his bandages with fresh gaze and tape.

“Do you need anything else Uchiha-san?” He didn’t know why she was acting so formal with him, but he could understand it. They hadn’t seen each other in years, she wasn’t even a teenager the last time they met. He couldn’t remember ever holding an actual conversation with her.

“No Dr. Haruno. Have you heard from Sasuke any?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“I haven’t heard from him since last night. Hopefully he is getting some rest along with your parents, all of you have been through a lot. I almost thought you wouldn’t remember I'm friends with Sasuke.” She had a slight smile on her face. She was staring at him and it was then that he realized it was because he hadn’t said anything in reply. Itachi got caught up staring at her eyes, those dazzling emeralds.

“Sasuke talks about you and Naruto, well as much as someone like him can… Would it be possible to get something to drink? My throat feels raw.” He had to kick himself for asking her about the drink, he was an absolute idiot.

“Of course. I’ll see if one of the nursing students can bring you something. They are pretty good at checking in on patients and helping out. Dr. Senju and the team will be around later, get some rest Uchiha-san.” Sakura had brought his covers up to his chest and walked out the door. For some reason her saying Uchiha-san didn’t sit well with him.

A few minutes later he was brought multiple cups of water and students more then welling to help him. it was when his nurse came in with some pain medication that they were shooed away.

Itachi didn’t know what to do with himself now. When was the last time he was idle for so long.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sakura made it just in time to get a new cup of coffee before starting rounds with Dr. Senju. It was hard keeping an indifferent face when talking with Itachi. She couldn’t help as she acknowledged how attractive he was, but she wasn’t an airhead preteen anymore. She was able to separate work and her personal life. While Itachi muddied the water some, she would be professional with him and his family when they came into the hospital.

A proud smirk made its way onto her lips as she brought up her coffee cup to her mouth. She had beat Kabuto and the other intern to the meeting spot. She only had to make it though 3 more days until she had a day off. Sunday would be a glorious day!

Jin was the second to arrive, he was one in her first year class. He stood a head and half taller then her, he had an average build, his coloring was brown hair and brown eyes. Unlike her, he had a tan to his skin. He was doing a trauma rotation, but belonged to the orthopedic surgery program.

“ Wonder where Yakushi is? I heard you got to scrub into that surgery yesterday with Dr. Senju, man is she scary! “ She couldn’t help but be irritated by his voice, it wasn’t his fault that she was having the start of a migraine.

“He should be here soon, maybe he heard about a new case for the day.” It was unlike Kabuto to not have arrived by now. At times Wednesday could be a slow day compared to the other days of the week. Starting Friday - Monday you would get the reckless injuries that were brought about by too much drinking and wanting to have a good time. A couple of weeks ago it was a party boat that capsized when too many people were on it.

“Where is Yakushi? I’m ready to round, it was a long ass day yesterday. “ Dr. Senju came up, tea in hand. She was not Kabuto’s biggest fan to start and him not being here was not a way to get off her bad side.

“Dr. Senju, sorry to interrupt but Dr. Yakushi was pulled into a surgery with Dr. Orochimaru.” It looked like the nurses had sacrificed one of the nursing student’s to deliver the message. Sakura didn’t know the name of the poor girl, but could see her shaking.

A grumble came form Dr. Senju, her lips pressed together. “ Let get started. I take it you two are carrying the majority of the patients anyway. We will round on them and then you two can finish charting. You two will be up for first assist on the next surgery. Decide among the two of you who will take it when it comes.” She then started walking down the halls.

Rounds were lightening fast. It was decided that Jin would take the first surgery of the day since Sakura got the one yesterday. Jin vanished to do his work, while Sakura took to sitting at one of the empty computers at the nursing station. The gossip from the nurses would put Ino to shame. ‘notes and then lunch.’

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Shisui leave Sasuke alone. “ How many times did Itachi have to stop those two. Sasuke had gotten back at Shisui for giving his cell number to some of the nurses. Sasuke’s phone wouldn’t stop going off. In retribution apparently Shisui’s Instagram was hacked and was announced that he was undergoing treatment for multiple STDs, his prior conquests were not to happy about the announcement.

Shisui had come with food from Mikoto. Sadly he was unable to eat it due to being on clear liquids. The aroma itself was making Itachi’s mouth water. Itachi refused to let either Sasuke or Shisui eat his food and made them put it in the mini fridge in his room.

“I heard you have little Sakura-chan overseeing you. Aren’t you a lucky dog. Sasuke I don’t know how the two of you never got together even for a night.” Sasuke looked ready to attack. Itachi wasn’t aware that his cousin knew Sakura. Shisui initially worked for the family law firm, but then branched off with itachi to do pro-bono work. He typically got in later then Itachi and stayed to close up the office, where Itachi opened it. Shisui had guilt from not being to the office sooner he may have been able to prevent itachi getting shot.

“Uchiha-san I have come to check on you quickly. Sasuke-kun said that you may be in pain.” Sakura was at the door, her presence stopping the inevitable match between Sasuke and Shisui.

Sasuke looked annoyed and Shisui straightened up. Itachi could already tell Shisui was putting his best flirting face on. “Sakura-chan I have to ask if it hurt?” Sakura looked at Shisui annoyance spreading on her face.

“Shisui we have had this conversation before and I’m not currently in the mood to put up with your ridiculous pick up lines.” Sasuke was annoyed he knew his cousin was doing this to get on his nerves. He and Naruto made it their mission to make sure the guys wanting to date Sakura where fully screened, much to the annoyance of Sakura. She had to keep most of her relationships a secret, unless they were creeps. The creeps she held no remorse for when the two idiots chased them away. Just because they watched out for her didn't protect her from having her heart broken a few times, before she decided to focus solely on her training.

“Come on lets go find something to eat since Weasel here wont share his food.” It was then that Sasuke’s stomach started to grumble, he was in agreement to finding food and some tomato juice.

 After dumb and dumber left Sakura was able to speak to Itachi. “Uchiha-san I know you have been having increased pain and wanted to make sure you were doing ok. Is there anything that you need? “

“Why do you call be Uchiha-san? “ Itachi blamed it on his pain medications for having no filter.

“What am I supposed to call you? I think Shisui has dibs on Weasel. “ she looked playful, mischievous look behind her eyes. It reminded itachi of the little girl he remembered from another time it seemed.

“I would like it for you to call me by my name Dr. Haruno. I feel like my father should be in the room when you say Uchiha-san. “ Sakura couldn’t imagine anyone calling Fugaku by anything other than Uchiha-sama. His face would probably get as red of the tomatoes that Sasuke adores so much in anger.

“Itachi-san considering you are older than me doesn’t that make you an old man?” Before Itachi could reply Sakura’s stomach decided to interrupt their conversation.

‘I forgot to eat lunch again! Two appendectomies came in that Jin and her split, which was around lunch time.’ Sakura couldn’t help but be embarrassed.

“Excuse me Itachi-san, but I will leave you to get some more rest.” Itachi didn’t want her to leave. She was a breath of spring in the shade of beige room.

“My mother made me a bento and my doctor has decided to only let me have liquids. I don’t think she would mind me giving it to you.”

Sakura was speechless. Mikoto’s food was a precious commodity, one that Sasuke refused to let anyone have. “I can get some food in the cafeteria, that was made for you and I’m sure you would like to have it once you are cleared for a regular diet.”

“I’m sure my mother would make me a new one when the time comes. This one hasn’t been in the fridge long and will still be fresh. I insist that you take it. Although I do ask that you enjoy it here as a way to repay me. I could use company that doesn’t want to punch the other person in the face.”

“Well that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” This meal would be the first of many, neither of them knowing that at the time.

[pigeontheoneandonly]

This is a little fanfic I did of @citadelsushi’s amazing long fic, Give to Pressure. It’s a fantastic enemies-to-lovers AU set in the Old West, starring her Avory Shepard and Kaidan Alenko.  I cannot say enough good things about this fic.  Its characterization, writing, and atmosphere are absolutely on point.  And it even updates reliably!  It’s a joy to read and you should all stop whatever you’re doing and go read it right now.

All those feels spilled over and I ended up writing a short fic about Nathaly set in this universe.  Since no planet is big enough for two Shepards, I’ve altered her story a bit to accommodate.

* * *

Nathaly Cabrera stood at her bar, tallying up the books from last night.  The sun had just crested the hills and shed long beams of pink light over the worn planks.  Though well-accustomed to rising at first light, Sundays never got too easy, as folks piled into town for morning services and seemed keen to get all their sinning done the evening before.  She wasn’t dressed yet herself; boots and pants and an untucked shirt, just enough to see to the yard, her uncombed hair tumbled over her shoulders in a red tangle.

Least she had the mind to knock the muck from her boots.  Nathaly never cared much for scrubbing floors, and even less for scrubbing chicken shit.

The door swung open and brought with it a dry wind and the promise of another achingly hot day. Nehal stepped inside, tugging off her gloves, a picture in rose silk.  She took in Nathaly with a sigh.  “You get a move on.  We’ll be late.”

“Perish the thought.”  Neither had enough Christian in her for even the devil to recognize, but Nehal would rise from her death bed before she’d miss a lick of gossip.  In a town as small as this, church was the social highlight of the week.  

She was too familiar with her grumpiness to spare much concern.  “I heard the train come in yesterday. So I walked down to Miller’s to see about the mail.”

Nathaly took the envelope she offered, and made a face.  “Mi madre.”

“ Sí.” She hiked her bustle and perched on a stool, folding her arms over the bar top.  Relishing her irritation.  “And how is dear Miss Hannah doing?”

The paper was creased and torn, some indication of the distance it had traveled, but she’d learned better than to guess.  She slit it open and read the first few lines.  “Well, she was in Peking as of two months back.”

“Peking? Why?”  That was far abroad even by Hannah’s tumbleweed standards. 

“Says here she joined a merchant caravan out of Persia, heading east.”  Her frown deepened.  Her mother’s wandering feet took her all over the world as a child, putting down roots just to have them ripped back out of the ground, tender and smarting.  Age hadn’t slowed her a mite.

Nehal reached over and rested her hand on her forearm.  Comforting. “Sulk if it pleases you, but you’ve got more than a touch of her blood, and you know it.”

Nathaly muttered. Nehal’s smiled widened, teasing.  “Following that same wind blew you all the way to East India.”

A pressing need to get out of town had blown her to India, fleeing a city a long ways from here, where the fastest way out was to sign on with a ship’s crew.  But Nehal was right.  She let Hannah dig too far under her skin.  Instead, she picked up her hand and planted a kiss in the palm. “Your siren song spread across the seas.”

“Such a charming liar.”  Her laugh faded.  “But that’s not all that came in on the train.”

After seven years and two continents, Nehal was an open book.  She knew her thoughts by her look like she knew her whiskeys by their scent. “Not more of those yellow-sashed bastards.”

At her nod, Nathaly cursed, and reached behind the bar.  Her eyebrows rose, mildly.  “Don’t tell me you mean to leave with liquor on your breath.”

“Don’t tell me I’m not entitled, between my mother and this.”  She poured out a finger and took a sip.  “Damn it.  I have half a mind—”

“We should head south for a spell.”  Switching topics like the weather turning, inexorable and without a care for anyone’s agenda.  “It’s been nigh on two years since we visited your father.  Your nephew will be taller than me.”

Nathaly wasn’t having it.  “Leave papá out of this.”

“Sure as starlight, three weeks in you’ll hear talk of trouble somewhere, or go looking for it.”  She folded her hands.  Nathaly couldn’t escape her level stare.  “And you’ll come home with the sun, covered in bandito blood and lookin’ to cap off the evening with exertions of a different sort.”

“You’ve never not obliged,” she harrumphed.

Her mouth turned up in a wicked little smile.  “Never said I minded.”

It was an opening worth seizing.  “Do we have to go to church?”

“The point,” said Nehal, as Nathaly sighed and took another drink, “Is to syphon off a bit of this poison of yours, so you’ll come home with your head on straight and resist the impulse to start fights you can’t finish.”

“They already heard loud and clear their money ain’t welcome here.  You best believe I’d finish it.”

“No, Nathaly, you won’t.”

That gave her pause.  She’d rarely seen Nehal so sober.  “You’ve heard something.”

She shook her head.  “Not any one thing.  But I haven’t bought a shipment of silver anything in near half a year.  Silk and tea are getting scarce.”

Life under the Raj had been kinder to Nehal’s family than most, undoubtedly aided by her British grandfather.  Though most of the town saw her as a pretty ornament, something Nathaly brought back like a souvenir, the truth was her import business made better money than the bar. She’d eat her hat if any of the townsfolk other than the proprietors themselves could source the sudden availability of so many hard to come by goods.  

But they kept those opinions behind their teeth.  No other place in town had ousted Cerberus, so any woman who could enforce a ban from the only watering hole wasn’t someone to cross.  Besides, Nathaly had yet to meet a body who looked at two unmarried adults living together, sharing property, and couldn’t damn well figure it out. Nobody said anything about that, either. Though they did share the occasional quiet nod with Luther and Eddie when they rode in from their ranch every few months.

“Cerberus is controlling the supply lines, buying them directly or through coercion.  And a snapping up fair amount of the goods.”  Nehal looked up at her.  “A single person taking on an empire is a recipe for a funeral, and I’m not ready to bury you yet.”

She held her gaze a long minute, and then let out an explosive sigh.  “Fine.  Boils my blood.”

“Mine, too.”

Nathaly raised an eyebrow.  “You keeping safe around town?”

She moved her arm to reveal the small pearl-handled revolver at her waist. Prim as it was, Nathaly had seen her put a bullet through the eye of a man at thirty paces.  So as to not get blood on the satin, she’d explained, smoothing her dress.  “And I’ve told Lilybet to keep a weather eye and clear of the station.”

A fever took her parents, and while plenty of ranches would be happy to have another hand, she chose to make her own way.  Or as much of a way as she could, spending more nights than not sleeping in their parlor upstairs.  That was alright.  She’d had it hard enough without disallowing her some dignity in illusions.

Just then, the door creaked open again.  Nathaly’s hand closed on the shotgun under the bar before she was done looking up. Nobody came around for a drink on Sunday morning, and Lilybet would use the back door.  Trains brought in all manner of trash.

She aimed it forward and scrutinized the silhouette darkening her porch.  Then she exhaled, set it down, and picked up the glass. “Oh.  It’s you.”

[secrecykept]

( ☯ ⋮ DRABBLE: Chesh. )

Main verse. 1800+ words of absolutely nothing. but hey, its his house and he talks to himself and his plants. bless him.

He stepped inside his house and closed the door behind himself with a soft click. A sigh escaped through a content smile and his shoulders dropped in relief.

Home Sweet Home.

In a casual search, his eyes swept around, ensuring that nothing had changed during his long week away. Yes, everything was right where he left it, but…his brother’s scent was a vague impression, which meant some of the chocolate hidden in the high kitchen cupboard was most likely gone. Typical.

Chesh chuckled to himself and shook his head, beginning to head further into the house. The short entryway flowed into the large, open plan style that he favoured.

Though he lived alone and didn’t technically ‘need’ such a big house, the animal side of him demanded the freedom of it and revelled in the provided space.

His lounge was to the left, set within a slightly lower level, a square frame. Having different layers and levels within the house kept the leopard appeased. All sorts of things had been incorporated into the house with that, and the other preferences of the feline, in mind.

Everything was as natural and organic as it could be, pleasing and gentle on the senses. The design of the house was environmentally friendly both because of Chesh’s own beliefs and because the therianthrope blood was comforted by it. The house was such a contrast to the heavy concrete and cold metal of the city he’d be trapped in recently.

Working overtime on a large, special order with his boss all week had been tough on his body in more ways than one. Every part of him, from skin to soul, had been getting more uncomfortable with every day and night he had been stuck there, instincts urging him to find the earth and its abundant life again, though of course he appreciated the spare room Mr Delaney let him stay in.

With only enough space for a large bed and a bedside table, the room had been a cage. The old décor, while faded and not too ugly, was still on the overwhelming side to his senses.

The complete opposite to the area he stood in now.

His house mimicked the feel of nature through its use of materials and the expansive windows which seemed to invite the outside in. The ‘trees’ supporting the ceiling, and the exposed beams high above, further added to the illusion of being surrounded by nature.

He took a deep breath in and then out, feeling the leopard relaxing along with him.

A yawn crept up on him and pulled on his muscles and jaw like a puppeteer tugging on strings, making him stretch out in a grand display. His shoulders and arms groaned at him, and he groaned right back and sighed as he relaxed himself down again.

Maybe an early night was in order.

Or perhaps simply an easy night of watching TV until he fell asleep. The quiet here was nice, but after such a long time of having someone else, and of having noise, around him during all hours…it was too quiet.

With that decided, he moved across large room, hopping down the small steps into the lounge area.

Along with the couch, armchairs, and coffee table, there was a less typical element; a large mattress inlaid within the space between the table and the wall which the TV was secured to. The mattress, neatly covered in a dark green bedsheet, was level to the hardwood floor and could easily be mistaken for a rug. Truth be told, he spent more time on that mattress than on the couch or even his actual bed.

He eyed it now and stole a couple of cushions from the couch to throw on it. The remote resting on the table became the next item to be scooped up. He tossed it lightly onto the new nest he was creating and then glanced over to the shelves full of DVDs.

“What should we watch, hmm?”

He heard a huff in the back of his mind, and he rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you, kittycat. I was talking to me.”

Ignoring his other side, Chesh idly rubbed his jaw and then slipped his hand to his neck and the join of his shoulder. Applying a little pressure caused a wince, and he became aware of the scents that clung to him. Sawdust and varnish, wood and hard work.

He sighed.

“Better have a shower first before getting too comfy…”

After a roll of his shoulders, he padded off to the right, jumping up the step and then stopping. His gaze flicked between the wide doorway to the kitchen, and the stairs at the far side that led up to the open, upper level.

“Food first or second?”

Dinner with his boss a few hours earlier seemed like forever ago now, but since his stomach didn’t growl or rumble, he gave it a pat.

“Later then. ‘Suppose it’s grocery time tomorrow anyway.”

He nodded to himself and continued on his way, making quick work of the stairs even while pulling his shirt off over his head. In a display of altogether too much practice, he balled up the shirt and tossed it into the basket across the room.

“Score!”

Pleased despite having no audience, he grinned. The expression eased off slowly after another yawn cracked through him. He avoided looking at his comfortable, ready-to-jump-on bed and set about removing the rest of his clothes. Living alone did have its benefits, there was no one to see him struggle with his shoes and pants, hobbling around as he yet again yawned.

“Damn I must be getting old…”

The chuffing laugh of the leopard in his mind brought him a pout. “Oh, shut it, I don’t need that from you. You’re as old as I am, y’know.”

It was with a great deal of sulking that Chesh finished stripping off and picked up his discarded clothes, adding them to the basket to join his shirt. Once the task was done, he perked up at the thought of the shower that awaited him.

The large, floor to ceiling windows nearby reflected his naked form, but the backdrop of dense forest was faintly visible still. Even if the glass had allowed him to be seen from the other side of it, he was not the type to mind. If someone out there was willing to climb up a tree to get a peek at him, they probably deserved it.

He sighed and turned away, heading to the generous en-suite. As always, he didn’t bother to close the door behind himself when he entered. The dark tile was cool beneath his feet as he crossed it, his destination the glass walls of the shower, though he did give a long look to the spa bath cradled within the floor.

“Not tonight,” he said to it in apology, “I’ll fall asleep and die if I do.”

He reached into the shower and turned the handle, prompting a high-pressure rush of water to rain down from the head set into the ceiling like a waterfall. Despite the water not being warm quite yet, he stepped under the spray anyway and let out a soft moan of approval.

“Oh yeah, that’s good…”

The water pelting his shoulders began to massage away some of the lingering aches. He sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing with a purr.

So good…

…….

He jolted back into wakefulness as his body swayed forward, one hand shooting out to brace against the glass wall. His hand slipped, but he kept on his feet with wide eyes and a colourful curse.

Time to get out already, this thing was dangerous.

After washing himself quickly, soapy bubbles swirling down the drain, he forced himself to shut off the water and step out into comparative coolness.

A towel was handy on the nearby rack, he snagged it and only bothered to rub it over his hair a few times before wrapping it around his waist. Drying off was far too much effort at this point.

He left wet footprints out of the bathroom and across the loft, if he slipped on them later then it was his own fault.

“Good thing I-“ Yawn. “-don’t live with anyone else.”

He shook his head to try force a little more awareness into his brain, which wasn’t the best thing to do while he was descending the steps. He nearly tumbled down them.

He was more awake now, needless to say.

And it was then that he looked across at the back of the room and spotted his little plants.

“Oh! My babies!”

He scampered so quickly over to them that his towel loosened and fell (almost tripping him up, but he was heedless).

“Please don’t die on me, okay? I know I totally forgot to feed you or get someone to look after you, but I’m here and it was only like a week, okay?”

The plants were nestled in rounded, forest green pots along the top of a shelf. Despite there being four pots, only two were filled. He’d only needed two, but there had been a deal to get three, and then he hadn’t wanted to leave the last one behind or for his third one to be without a partner.

He gently touched the soil of one plant and sighed. “Not too bad. Good thing you’re not high maintenance huh?”

Succulents and cacti made for good companions to one as busy and forgetful as he could be.

“Let me get you a drink now, okay, Ouchie? Pointy? I’ll be right back. Be good now.”

He spun around and made a beeline for the kitchen, bending to sweep up the fallen towel on the way. He slung the material over one of his shoulders and carried on with the task of getting water for his dear plants.

A cheerful but tuneless hum from him eased some of the silence within the house as he worked on caring for Pointy and Ouchie.

“There, better now, right?” he asked them once finished, “You’re looking happier already.”

He gave a satisfied nod and directed himself back across the lounge, jumping with both feet down the step this time, just for something different.

“Night you two,” he called back to them, “Don’t snore, okay? I need some beauty sleep; I think my hotness levels have dropped down to a mere 120%. Totally unacceptable.”

He yawned and narrowly missed walking into the edge of the coffee table on his way around to the mattress. He let his knees buckle and set him down on the welcoming softness. It took only a moment of fussing with the cushions before he was comfortable, and then he felt around for the remote and switched the TV onto the most boring channel he could find.

The droning voices closed his eyes and he was deep asleep within the minute.

[swiftwind3]

Let It Burn

A farmer... 

Oscar frowned. 

A wizard... 

He stared at the grip of the cane. 

A hermit... 

He scowled. 

A drunk... 

Whether it was the water seeping into his clothes or his anger that made him shake, he didn't know. 

An engineer... 

His eyes stung. 

A businessman... 

He closed them. 

A headmaster... 

With a single quiet sob, his throat was on fire. 

Were all these lives you lead...truly for nothing? 

Tears slid down his cheeks as he tensed and swung with a loud grunt, hurling the weapon. 

"Answer me!" 

You ass... 

He clawed at the wall in his mind, falling to his knees with a splash. Stinging water brushed and lapped at his wrists. He dug his gloved fingers into grainy sand, gritting his teeth at the tears hooking themselves on his lips. 

"Hey," a low voice called in front of him. "Do you know how much of a pain this was to find?" 

With a sniffle, he leaned back, not minding the water seeping into his pants and saying nothing as Qrow waded toward him, cane grip in his hand. "Listen, you’re in a moping mood. I get it, but can you get out of the water? You know, where you won't get hypothermia." 

Something flared in him and he spat it out. "You get out of the water. Leave me alone." 

The tall man shifted his weight. "Really?" 

The grip shined in Oscar's face, calling him like a pitiful magnet. Batting at it, Qrow moved back quickly, catching his hand and dragging him. 

"Hey," he groaned. "Letーgo!”

"Out we go, " Qrow sighed. 

"Stop it," his heels attempted to drive themselves into the man’s side. "Let me go already!" 

After being planted on dry sand, the hold on him tightened further. "You gonna throw it again?" Red eyes pierced him. 

With a choked noise, he hiccuped, tugging at his arm. "Let go..." 

"That's not an answer," Qrow snorted, shoving the grip back into his wet gloves. "Let's head back to Sapph's place. Everyone's looking for you." 

Wiping his face, the grip shook in Oscar’s hold. I don't need this, he taunted at the wall. It's trash. 

"I don't need this," he echoed bitterly. He turned and tensed again, only to be hooked by the waist. 

"You do need that." 

With a hiss, the cane extended and he roared, clawing and swinging. 

Qrow dodged those meager swings, clutching his arm tightly as he tried to throw the damn cane again. It plopped down on the sand. 

“You know, I went through a lot of trouble to get that thing, and I’d rather not go swimming for it. Now, come on. We're both wet and like I said, I'm not in the mood to get sick. I'm sick enough already from all those damn drinks...” 

The kid only batted and scratched, kicking his legs. "Stop stopーstop it," he sobbed. "Let me go!" 

Qrow's hold on him didn't loosen. "Kid..." 

Freezing, Oscar sagged in his arms, and he withdrew, letting him fall to his knees.

Swallowing his sigh, Qrow squatted to his level while the ocean continued to sing and hiss around them, carrying about its business. Wind pushed past them, paying mind to sway their locks and blow some salt into them. 

Oscar gave a shuddering breath. "Why can't you see I don't want this? Why can't you see I didn't ask for any of this? Whyーwhy are you trying to take me back, since you hate me so much?" Wet green eyes rose to meet red ones. "Besides, you knowーwe all know that I'm not cut out for this sort of thing. And there's no beating Salem," his lips quivered. "So, why? Why are you doing this? Why can't you just let me go? Wouldn't you be happier if you did?" 

Red studied green before dimming slightly in the moonlight. "An answer to that would be I can't let you die, useless or not. The honest answer'd be Ruby and Calavera'd both have my head if I let you drown or get killed by some Grimm just because you wanted to tuck tail and bolt. And I kind of like my head. Even if it is jack-hammering my sanity into the sand as we speak." 

He snorted. "Why do they care?" 

"That was my first answer. Those are their words of justice and chivalry, " Qrow seemed to mock. "Not mine." 

---- 

Ice cold stabbed and cracked into his skin, pulling him out of the dark with a cry. He coughed, light intruding painfully into his sight. "Whatーwhat theーhey. What is wrong with you?" 

"Many things," Maria Calavera grinned. "But I have to admit though, watching you proving me right has been quite a repulsive sight. I am quite impressed, too, though. You meet your idol and once she insults you, you don't even try to argue her." 

Qrow’s scowl relaxed, offering a glare. 

"Really? Nothing at all? I know drunks tend to be more wordy when accused of anything." 

With a sigh, he leaned back on the couch. “Why can’t you let me have my hangover in peace?" 

"Because while you were trying to drown your ridiculous guilt or stupid insecurities, your nieces and their friends have gone off to gods-know-where trying to find that poor farm boy you punched," she barked, her voice hammering at his head. "And I got stuck with babysitting duty. Literally and figuratively,” Adrian cooed at her feet.

Groaning, he flinched at the light. "Ozpin's gone?" He snorted. "Good riddance." 

She shook her head, blue specs narrowed. "Not just Ozpin; Oscar, as well. There are two souls in that boy's body, and it'd do us all some good if you learned that already." 

Rolling his neck, he sighed again. 

"By the gods, are you seriously not petty enough to at least try and prove me wrong?” Her tongue clicked. “Or was it that I hurt your feelings that bad?" 

A growl left his throat, confusing his annoyance and fury for each other. Then, he heard her sigh. 

"You know, you hurt those girls when we finally found you at that bar." 

Blurry memories sparked in his head. He didn’t recall the familiar chant of drunk people edging on a petty bar fight. "I don't remember attacking anybody.” 

"I'd be surprised you remembering anything at all," she snorted. "But you didn't attack them. You did say a name that seem to hurt them quite a bit, however." 

He blinked, eyeing the roof in drifting concentration. "A name?” 

"Summer. You called Ruby Summer. She seemed quite intent on chewing you out just before. And once you called her that, she opted to just leave you behind. Along with me. Not that I blame her. We'd both just slow them down." 

"...She smacked my drink out of my hand." He nodded. 

She mirrored him. "That, she did. It's a bit of a frustrating thing, I suppose, watching someone you love destroy themselves with no concern for those around them. I really am surprised how she managed to bottle up that rage right there and then. But, she's pretty much at her limit. And so is Yang. Seeing how close you and Ruby are, she'll probably let her handle the chewing-out, though." 

He let out a quiet snort, letting his lip twitch upward at the idea of those two scolding him for a change. 

"If you're so fond of them, why do this to them? To yourself? What guilt or inhibition could possibly plague a soul like yours?" 

Pursing his lips, he shook his head softly. "You ever heard of a Semblance you couldn't control, Calavera?" 

"I know they exist," she shrugged. "What of them?" 

"I have one of them," his brows knitted together. "And I suppose it's a bit frustrating to know you're contributing nothing but bad luck to the bad things already happening around you. And it's also a bit of a frustrating thing to know that you cause those bad things, too." 

She let out a laugh. "So, you're the poor bastard that got stuck with the catalyst of misfortune. My father told me to pray for you. And I suppose that is something to cry about." 

"I've cried enough," he muttered after a moment. 

"And now you drink," she retorted. "The next best thing." 

Their silence filled his ears. She situated herself on a chair with a grunt, sniffing. 

"Well, if you're going to do nothing but mope, do me a favor and get out. I don't need your negativity bringing Grimm to this house." 

"It takes more than one person in a city to attract Grimm," his cheek twitched. 

"You think I don't know that? And if you're not even planning on doing the right thing, don't go try and drown yourself again. I don't want to find you in a ditch." 

Sighing, he dragged his legs, standing with a hunch. "Gods...which way did they go?" 

"They've spread out all over the city. Maybe you could try and stop pitying yourself for once; give those wings of yours some exercise as well. Your life is enough of a nightmare." 

He let out another scoff, lumbering to the door. 

"Just how long will you let yourself be like this?" She called. 

Pausing at the foyer, he shook his head. "What does that even mean?" 

"Figure it out once you get out." 

As annoyed as he was, his body was too sluggish to even slam the door properly. 

---- 

"So, she booted me out. Or I let her anyway. I'd call her a crazy old hag but she had some pretty good points." Qrow shrugged. "I knew you weren't stupid enough to leave the city drenched in negativity, so I came this way. And wouldn't you know it, here you were." 

The boy snorted, scratching at salt and tears. "You say you have bad luck, but you seem to have pretty good luck finding people that don't wanna be found." 

"No, no. My Semblance brings nothing but misfortune. The only luck I have in finding anyone's finding them alive." 

Something poked the bottom of Oscar’s stomach, making him shudder. 

"Look. Oscar," he took a breath. "I don't hate you. And...as much as I want to, I don't hate Oz either. After everything he did for me, I figured after a while I couldn't exactly hate on the guy. And him owning up to this one mistake shouldn't have changed a damn thing. But it did. Just slightly, like all truths do when they come to light." 

Images flashed across Oscar’s eyes. A young man that looked like Qrow scowled. Things around him broke and shattered, weather fluctuated wildly, and crowds leaked sorrow and shouted in anger. 

"Still. Even after all he did for me, it didn't make it any less distressing to learn that all our hard work had been for nothing." 

"Your reactions...were justified," Oscar breathed, staring blankly ahead of him as a man shrouded in green appeared behind the young Qrow.

Qrow seemed to cry against the man. 

"But trying to take it all out on me and trying to take it out on Ozpin's two different things." 

"Yeah," he looked away. "You’re right. I’m sure you’d appreciate it if we understood the damn fact already, but we're...we're still getting our grip on things. And I understand that we can’t exactly take our sweet time doing that. Though, I'll be the first to apologize. It wasーignorantーof me to try and think you were one soul. I let my emotions get to me that day. So much so, that I forgot that you're two in one, I suppose. While I'm..." he sighed. "Still having trouble actively applying the fact, I am sorry for punching you. Beating up pipsqueaks like yourself aren't exactly my thing, so I probably should have thought more before I acted. Even though it’s too late for that now." 

“Thanks,” his lip twitched, but then, he frowned at the ground. "And if you can show me that, you can come out and talk, you coward," he spat. 

Qrow raised a brow. "What?" 

"Ozpin," he shook his head, closing his eyes with a sigh. "He'sーhe's showing me things. About your Semblance." 

With a tight chuckle, Qrow shrugged. "Don't get too personal with the kid, Oz. I'd appreciate it." 

Nodding with a hum, Oscar brought his knees in with a shiver. 

"Yeah, figured you start acting like a normal meat human. Let's head back." 

"Yeah," he echoed absentmindedly, attempting to dust himself off. 

"Everyone's going to chew your ears off so use the walk to brace yourself." 

Oscar snorted, his brows knitting together with his lips twitching. 

"What is it?" 

"Youーyou wore a skirt?" 

"Oh, sure. Show him that one." 

Oscar's giggles grew loud, and Qrow didn't have it in him to tell him to shut up. 

--- 

i wrote this really quick and posted it before canon could destroy it tomorrow lmaoo. inspired by @xhikarixyamix‘s lovely artwork which you can admire here. byyeee