#genuinely surprised i hadn't made the will powers one yet

[just-illegal]

spoilers for the last case of aa3

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: paige is your sneaky link & you wear her jersey to surprise her after a game.

warning (s): smut → dom paige, slightly sub reader, power play, pussy eating, fingering, nipple sucking… etc MINORS DNI

word count: 1.5k

author note: not edited, wrote late at night, and rushed ending kinda.

Paige Bueckers was NOT your girlfriend. Neither of you even had the bandwidth to focus on romance — her, with an intense basketball career occurring outside of her dynamic with you, and you, an essential slave to your university studies.

That's what made it feel like fate when you guys first met at the Uni New Years Party. Genuinely, you both believed so, and had told one and other that before fervently making out in the washroom that exact night. Granted, you were both insanely drunk, but Paige could recount the story like it was yesterday that she saw you, single, hot, and dancing unbotheredly, though it'd been three months already."Gosh, you were just sooo cute. I was asking KK & all em', 'Who is she? How is she single?' And then they're like 'Oh, she's focused and questioning, not the romantic type,' and I was thinking, 'She's perfect.'"

Despite knowing that Paige and you are not dating, and that she really appreciates your understanding of casual, which is why she's consistently fucking just you, you can't help but feel butterflies when she describes your existence as perfect.

As an athlete, a great one at that, nothing was ever perfect to Paige. Except for you. And shit, whenever you recalled her slew of admirers at your school, on the net, and among her fans, the fact she deemed none of them were worthy of her undivided attention like she had with just you made you spiral.

You loved being her only girl. You loved being the epitome of perfection to Paige Bueckers, UConn's star. Her game tonight, televised, had ran late, and you thought she'd be too exhausted to come over and play, however, after winning, she was fired up and soon sent you a picture of her in an Uber, telling you she was on her way.

Most nights, sometimes early mornings, it was the same routine. She would come over, you would buzz her into the building, let her into your apartment, and she'd shower before fucking you into oblivion whichever way she pleased. It was always fun, varying some nights. This night though, to celebrate UConn's first win of the season, you surprised her by wearing her jersey. 'Bueckers' read the back, '#5'. When you opened the door, Paige was wearing a white shirt, grey sweats, and glasses, her hair in a half-neat, half-disheveled bun. She looked so hot.

You could feel yourself getting wet at the mere sight of her. She was on her phone due to the wait for you to open the door, and she hadn't yet looked up from the gadget as she chided playfully, "Let's start opening this door faster, ma. I waited long enough to get to you all-da—" She stopped; blue eyes fixed upon your body and her jersey and your body in her jersey. You giggled teasingly. "You like it, P?" you asked, guiding her much taller stature into your apartment by the wrist with considerable ease. Paige, who usually held control, was left dumbfounded at the sight of you. "My gosh, baby," she murmured softly, the wrist you'd just been previously holding pulling you closer into her body as the other hand rubbed down your smaller frame, smoothing circles into your lower back until she gripped a handful of your bare ass, making you moan. "Paige!" you whimpered, cheek against cheek, breathlessly. "C'mon, P, play nice with me." you purred sensually. She licked her lips, pleading, "C'mere," her voice low and laced with desperation. You wouldn't listen, though, reveling in your effect on her and how she was breaking, wanting to be in control for once. You buried your face in the curve of her neck, tracing tender kisses along her most sensitive spot, coaxing out heavy, breathless sighs from the taller blonde. Your hands found her hair as you sucked a spot onto her neck, intertwining into it and unraveling her updo as you worked on her, leaving it in disarray.

"Y/N," she exhaled shakily, "Baby, quit that, or I'm not playing nice with you tonight." she warned, tone determined to repossess her dominance. Paige never really called you 'babe,' or 'baby,' — nothing sweet like that. Typically, her nasty mouth — the one that satisfied you and degraded you all at once — was calling you a dirty slut or whore, and when it got intense, she'd make you call your ownself things. She was immensely losing it talking sweetly, and this was a stark reminder.

"Do you want me stop, Paige?" you murmured, pausing briefly only to speak before delving into her neck again, licking a hot stripe up her new purple hickey before nibbling on her ivory skin. Paige suppresses a groan, reducing it to a tiny indelible noise.

"I do," she responds positively, her hands on your waist, smoothing down your ribcage before gently lifting your jersey up until her hands were underneath it. "I don't know if I wanna keep this on you or take it off," she husked conflictedly, kneading your tits.

"You're so fuckin' pretty, angel, you'd look so good both ways." Paige surprised you when her hands fell low again, lifting you up and forcing you to cling to her body as she carried you toward your bedroom. The entire way there, your lips had been pressed against each other's, and though it was risky, you trusted Paige's coordination as an athlete. Before no time, you had made it safely into your bedroom, and she gently placed you down on the mattress before stripping off her white tee.

After discarding of it somewhere amongst the dimly lit room, she slides her body between your legs, pressing her pink lips against yours and her strong knee into your bare bottom half, the friction causing you to whimper into the kiss. Moments later, she pulls away from the kiss briefly and gazes down between you both, inspecting the now dark grey sweatpants for any signs of damage, her mouth slightly agape as she marvels at the sight of your slick that's coated her pants. "You're such a slut," she says in a sultry chuckle, "I can't believe you're this wet for me and I've barely even touched you yet," she breathes out in disbelief.

"I'm your slut, Paige. Touch me," you beg. She slips her fingers inside you, torn between focusing on the way your face contorts in pleasure as she scissors you open or on how effortlessly you accommodate her lengthy digits. She decides on both, using her free hand to push the jersey up before latching onto your nipple and sucking gently, as if she's unsure about how you might respond to the intense pleasure you're experiencing.

She watches you attentively, so beautiful and immersed in pure pleasure, your mouth parted with little gasps falling from your gorgeous lips as Paige presses against the sensitive pad inside your pussy that aligns with your clit on the outside. She ceases sucking. "I want to watch you play with it," she states. You're dazed, out of breath with your head cloudy, and you manage to murmur, "W-what?"

Paige doesn't say anything. She resumes her attention, this time on your left nipple, nibbling gently, and she guides your hand down to your clit with her free hand, assisting you in beginning the circular motions upon it. The stimulation of each pleasure zone on your body has you arching your back, whining out Paige's name in a mantra. "Fuck, P, mmph," you gasp, body on fire, "Please don't stop, mommy, I'm so fucking close." you plead, voice trembling with need. You swear you could hear your heartbeat momentarily, the intensity building to an unbearable crescendo as you teetered on the edge of release. But Paige did say she wouldn't play nice, and she smirks up at you deviously. “Tell P how good she makes you feel,” she commands, her pace slowing to an agonizing speed as she relished in the power dynamic at play. You knew the game she wanted to play; still tinged with the frustration from your earlier encounter where you had taken control.

Too horny to care, you proclaimed, "You make me feel so good, Paige,” voice filled with longing. “I love your fingers so much, yes,” moaning as she gently accelerated, indulging your desires just as you indulged hers: submission, each of you surrendering to the other’s needs, finding pleasure in the delicate balance of power and desire. "Good girl," she praises against your chest. "You're a good fucking slut, right?"

You nodded, "Yours." closing your eyes, unable to keep looking into hers. She looked too good. Paige was fortunate that you were rendered immobile by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. If you could move, you'd pounce on her with an aggressive kiss. Her hair cascades around her shoulders, her glasses still perched on her nose, and that cute appreciative smile she gives you as she nastily, relentlessly fucks her fingers into you sends butterflies swirling in your stomach.

It'd been three months being with Paige and the fact that the golden star of UConn is here, with you, not even an hour after basking in the spotlight of victory, is surreal. She generally was. It was surreal to gaze upon such a stunning girl as you reached the peak of bliss, cries of pleasure mingling with the realization that you were climaxing, hard and long. And through it all, she maintained eye contact, talking you through it, her gaze unwavering. "Cum on my fingers, baby, I want to taste you. I want to see you do it. C'mon," she coaxes, her voice dripping with desire as she urges you on.

You were drowning in her. And soon enough, she was drowning in you, having creamed all over her fingers. Paige pumps thrice more before bringing her fingers to her mouth, her tongue swirling around them as she savored your taste, gaze locking with yours in a dirty exchange of desire. "Tastes as sweet as you are," she remarks, chuckling softly before offering her fingers to you to clean off the rest. "Say ahh," she commands, and you eagerly comply, seeing the benefits of giving into Paige, sticking out your tongue out to allow her to place her fingers into your mouth. "I want them spotless," she demands, her tone filled with authority as you bob your head, licking the remainder of cum off her fingers. "Suck on them," she says, her eyes smoldering with desire as she watches you suscept, eager to fulfill her wishes.

When she's satisfied, she kisses you deeply, her lips igniting a fire within you as you revel in her taste. As she stands up, removing her bottoms, you can't help but admire the sight before yourself. Paige, the girl you were with, had the most exquisite pussy you'd ever seen. You were grateful to be the only girl allowed to experience it, but it truly was a treasure. The harmony and balance of each feature always left you in awe, and you excitedly anticipate the pleasure of eating her out, knowing that it's a demonstration of your complete submission to her. You don't wait. The instant her sweats come off, you yank her by her bra, pulling her onto the bed. There's no time for her to assert dominance as you take control, dropping to your knees below the bed and holding her knees in each hand like they were stirrups.

Her underwear still on, you tease her, licking a stripe against her clothed cunt, tongue flexing at her clit and dampening the spot. "Love this pussy," you groan, voice filled with desire as you used a finger to play against her folds, eliciting a frustrated moan from her. "Stop, Y/N," she pleads, voice scorned with true confliction, torn between the desire to surrender to pleasure and the need to regain control.

"Just wanna hear it once, P," you smirk up at her. "Say please, Number Five." She bites her lip, throwing her head back, causing her glasses to fall off, her bare eyes now locking with yours. It's difficult to maintain your composure under her intense gaze, but you manage, licking another small stripe against her underwear, causing her to jolt. "A-ah, fuck," she moans, trying to close her legs, but you hold them open. "I just wanna make you feel good, Paige, and I can tell you wanna feel good too. Say it."

She exhales, her voice pleading, "Please, Y/N," as she pulls her underwear aside, revealing her glistening pink folds. Your mouth waters. "Can you eat my pussy?" she asks, so politely you wanna kiss her, but you wanna eat her more. She holds her underwear to the side, and you accept the invitation, tongue exploring her wetness with fervor. Her hands flies to your head, something to anchor herself onto as she squirms away from your powerful tongue. You coast her back, however, and suction her clit into her your mouth, moaning into her pussy. Paige isn't a loud girl, but she's having trouble restricting her moans. The scent of her arousal fills the air, driving you wild with desire as you delve deeper, savoring the taste of her essence. As you continue to lavish your attention on her, the intensity of her pleasure builds, her grip on the sheets tightening and knuckles turning white as she writhes beneath you. You feel her body quivering with each flick of your tongue, moans growing louder and more desperate with each passing moment. You spit down onto her, making it sloppy, merely adding as a plus to the rawness of the carnal energy between you two. Her wetness coats your lips and chin, the sound of your movements mingling with her cries of ecstasy. And as you bring her to the brink of release, a tear runs down Paige's face, a testament to the overwhelming intensity of her pleasure. But you don't let up, determined to bring her to the peak of pleasure and beyond. With each lick and suck, you push her closer to the edge, until finally, she shatters beneath me, her body convulsing in waves of bliss as she succumbs to the ecstasy of her climax. The night was far from done. Your jersey was still on, and you still wanted to play.

guys i wrote this because there’s lit no Paige smut on here pls pull thru

Send me req btw!! I’m def considering writing again masterlist

[lecsainz]

Can u do any kind of luke imagine with maybe a daughter of hades:p

˒ ⌕ DID YOU EAT, TODAY?

parings: luke castellan x hades!reader

an: this was my first piece that my sister liked? I'm sooo happy because she's picky, and I usually have to beg her to read anything I write. yes, I know it's pathetic, but I usually don't think my writing is good, and I don't think you guys will like it. I have a bit of a validation-seeking complex (mirroball girl here 😭

summary: where, after 18 years of surviving alone, you finally arrive at camp half-blood, discovering you're a child of hades. adimist it all, a hermes' boy might find himself perhaps falling for you.

( my last work || my last work for riodanverse || go to main masterlist )

The camp was bustling with activity, but for you, the chaos of your newfound identity as a demigod and a daughter of Hades was still settling in. The moment you were claimed upon entering the camp, it felt like your entire world had shifted. As the campers dispersed for their activities, you sought solace by the lake, needing a moment to process the overwhelming revelations.

Luke, having noticed your absence from the group, made his way to the lake with a small cupcake in hand. Blueberry, your favorite. He approached cautiously, recognizing the turmoil on your face. The daughter of Hades, a complex puzzle of emotions and powers.

"Hey there," Luke greeted, sitting down beside you. "Did you eat today?"

You looked up, your eyes still reflecting the confusion and vulnerability that came with the newfound knowledge of your divine parentage. The mere question, though simple, struck a chord within you, resonating with a sense of care that you hadn't expected.

"I... I didn't really feel like it." you admitted, your voice betraying the uncertainty.

Without another word, Luke handed you the cupcake, and the corners of his lips lifted into a reassuring smile. "Well, you should. It's blueberry – your favorite, right?"

Surprised, you glanced at the cupcake, realizing that somehow, amidst all the chaos, Luke had remembered your preference. A small, genuine smile formed on your face as you took the cupcake. "Thank you."

Taking the cupcake, you managed a small smile. The gesture was simple, yet it carried an unspoken understanding. You hesitated for a moment before taking a bite, savoring the sweetness that contrasted with the bitter reality you were grappling with.

Luke watched you quietly, and when you finally met his gaze, he reached over to wipe away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. It was a gentle touch, one that conveyed more comfort than words ever could.

"You know, being a demigod is tough, especially in the beginning," he began, his tone gentle. "But you're not alone in this. We're a family here, weird as it may be."

You chuckled, feeling a hint of warmth amidst the emotional storm. "Yeah, a family of demigods with divine parent issues."

Luke chuckled with you. "Exactly. And you've got powers from the Underworld, which is pretty cool if you ask me."

Your laughter echoed by the lake, and Luke couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading within him. He looked at you, your smile contagious, and a goofy grin formed on his face. In less than 48 hours, everything you did seemed to become his favorite thing.

"See? I knew blueberry cupcakes were the way to go," Luke teased, nudging you playfully.

As you enjoyed the cupcake, the night air became a canvas for the unspoken. Luke's gaze lingered on you, studying your features. The flicker of vulnerability in your eyes and the subtle playfulness of your smile sparked something in him. His mind wrestled with conflicting thoughts. The prophecy and his allegiance to Kronos felt like a weight on his shoulders, yet the simple act of being there for you seemed to defy the inevitable.

Luke couldn't help but think he was treading on dangerous ground. The more he got to know you, the more he realized that maybe, just maybe, there were things worth fighting for beyond the plans of gods and Titans.

Caught in his own internal struggle, he locked eyes with you. His expression shifted between uncertainty and an undeniable connection that was forming against all odds.

And then, as if a realization hit him, you blushed, looking away. The daughter of Hades, powerful and enchanting, now bashful under his gaze. A small smile played on Luke's lips, acknowledging the unexpected turn of emotions.

"Stop," you said, your voice a blend of amusement and a blush that colored your cheeks.

"I can't help it," Luke responded, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He made no effort to hide his amusement, which only intensified your embarrassment.

A playful slap on his arm was your immediate response. "Seriously, cut it out."

Luke chuckled, the sound resonating in the tranquil night. "Alright, alright. I'll behave... for now."

"Hey, Castellan! We're heading out. You coming?" The moment was interrupted by a group of Hermes cabin members calling for Luke. As he got up to join them, he glanced back at you. "You coming?"

He extended his hand towards you, a gesture so simple yet filled with unspoken invitation. With a slight hesitance, you placed your hand in his, and together you walked away, fingers intertwined.

The children of Hermes exchanged smirks, whispering amongst themselves as they watched Luke and you leave the lakeside. One of them winked at Luke, teasingly remarking, "Looks like someone's got a soft spot."

Luke shot back with a grin, "I don't know what you're talking about."

He glanced at you, a sly smile playing on your lips radiating a warmth that ignited a turmoil within him. In that moment, a realization struck Luke like a lightning bolt – perhaps you were the unforeseen obstacle in Kronos' grand plan. As he stared at you, the idea that his growing feelings for you could complicate the titan's scheme loomed over him, and for the first time, Luke Castellan felt the weight of a dilemma he hadn't anticipated.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere husband Genghis Khan

❝ 📜 — lady l: I hope you like! I hadn't written to him yet, but I confess that I liked it! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes!❤️

❝tw: dub-con, mention of massacre and destruction, possessive and violent behavior, implied torture.

❝📜pairing: yandere!genghis khan x female!reader.

Genghis Khan set his eyes on you after you became a concubine, one of his many that he possessed. After invading your city and looting and massacring the inhabitants, you were given to him as spoils of war. A concubine and nothing more.

When you were summoned to his tent, you were scared to death. Terrified of what he could do to you. You had already seen what the other soldiers had done to the captives women and you were shaking in terror at the thought of suffering the same.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest when you walked in and found him waiting for you, wearing light clothes and drinking. You took a deep breath and walked towards the conqueror of your city. He looked at you briefly and you knew what you had to do.

To your surprise, Genghis wasn't rude or forced you, he was quite calm and gentle. A word you never thought you could use referring to him, aiming at the reputation he maintained. That said, you started to like him more, to like the nights you spent together more and more.

You were called by him every night and not every night was about the pleasures of the flesh, but because he enjoyed your company. You also started to like him, he wasn't that bad, at least not to you.

He soon decided that he wanted to marry you, to transform you from a concubine to his wife. You were surprised when he told you this news, but you didn't reject the idea. Being his wife would bring you more benefits than being his concubine and soon the preparations began.

The wedding was celebrated in typical Mongolian style and you were welcomed by soldiers and people important to him. Even his main wife, Börte, congratulated you and she seemed genuine. Genghis Khan appreciated this fact immensely, he could always benefit from it later.

You were treated with all the perks he could give you, jewelry, food, clothes made of the purest silk, anything you wanted he would have no problem getting. If you asked him to, he would destroy an entire tribe or city just for you.

You held a lot of power over him, especially when you got pregnant with your first child. Genghis was especially happy about this and you spent the whole night making love after this news. He was falling more in love with you every day.

He was quite possessive, however, and that was obvious to you. He once had one of his own subordinates tortured for daring to lust after you. You would never forget the screams that night or the bloody way your husband had appeared to you.

Genghis cares and cares for you in his own way and often resorts to violence to do so. He wasn't a conqueror without a reason, there was a murderous fury inside him that many knew. It soon became very clear to everyone who they must protect at all costs. You kept him in check.

He might have other concubines and wives, but he always came back to you in the end. In your arms, he had found a comfort he didn't know he needed until he got it. Genghis could kill anyone who looked at you the wrong way, but it was because he loved you.

You may not be his first wife, but you are definitely his favorite.

[evermorecountsastherapy]

★ of literature and lingering contingence ★

pairing: Gale Dekarios (BG3) x fem!reader (unnamed, no use of y/n, second person)

tags/warnings: fluff, teasing, literary references, established relationship, post-canon, shameless smut (soooo much of it), soft dom gale, porn with plot, praise kink, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, oral sex, rough sex, love confessions, a lot of sappy stuff toward the end, explicit sexual content: MDNI please

word count: 12,400

a/n: recently was gripped by the most powerful wave of Gale brain rot that I have ever experienced and this absolute monstrosity emerged as a result. initially vaguely inspired by this fanart that has rerouted and taken over every single one of my functioning braincells (I don't know the artist, pls pls let me me know if you do! I owe them a life debt for creating that piece!) this was also inspired by the literary masterpiece Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (let's just pretend it exists in 1492 DR, alright?) if requested, I will consider writing a second part to this story, seeing as I really enjoyed writing this. as a fair warning, this is about 85% filth and 15% sappy lovesick stuff so enter at your own risk!

★ AO3 link ★

✦ playlist link ✦

Enjoy!

image taken from Pinterest

Out of all the days in the week, Sundays had to be your favourite.

It was the one day where you never had any obligations or responsibilities to worry about, and you often found yourself with nothing to do but relax. 

It wasn't, however, this lack of routine that you loved so much but rather the fact that Gale's schedule followed a very similar pattern as yours, leaving nothing for both of you to do but spend the entire day in each other's company. After the perilous, action-packed journey you'd both come back from a mere few months ago, you were both more than happy to catch up on quality down time together.

And this Sunday had turned out to be no different. You'd been tucked away together in his tower all day, watching as the bright sun rose early that morning through the crack in the balcony's drapes, your bodies tangled both together and in the soft sheets. Later on that afternoon, you'd watched it set again from where you were nestled together on his worn antique couch, his head using your lower stomach as a pillow and his body encased between your legs beneath the blanket he had thrown over the both of you, a worn copy of Jane Eyre open in his hands. 

A few weeks prior, the two of you had been discussing your favourite books over dinner (as was a popular topic of discussion wherever you and him were involved) and at one point, you'd casually quoted that very same literary work. This earned you a puzzled look from Gale, his brow quirking in a way you realized he genuinely didn't catch your reference. You were equally surprised by this revelation; until then, you had yet to mention a book that Gale hadn't already read and meticulously analyzed. 

This was a definitely a first. 

The thought made you somewhat giddy, already planning to be up at the crack of dawn the next morning to grab your equally well-loved and annotated copy from your place on the other side of Waterdeep. You were in the process of selling your old apartment, seeing as you had moved in with Gale after the War and spent the majority of your time outside of work with him at his tower. It would be a good opportunity to bring a few more of your things over to his place, as you had been doing over these last few months.

So that was exactly what you did. Every night from then on, after Gale had finished grading papers for the students he taught at Blackstaff and you'd cleaned yourself up after a long day at the House of Healing, the two of you would curl up on the living room couch next to the blazing mantle and read the story of Jane Eyre together. The idea that his initial reading should be a group activity and that he would be the narrator of the story was entirely his idea, and one that you'd found hard to refuse. You did love the sound of his voice, so listening to it perpetually for hours was only an added bonus.

This was precisely where you found yourself now, once again curled up on his couch watching as dusk fell and lingered on the corners of the room, the addition of flickering candlelight creating the coziest atmosphere in the little space. Head nestled in the space between your lower abdomen and pubic bone, your lover's voice read the words off the pages in front of him with a hushed enthusiasm that made you think he would be wonderful as a children's storyteller. You would have to mention that to him later.

"...still he looked preciously grim, cushioning his massive head against the swelling back of his chair, and receiving the light of the fire on his granite-hewn features, and in his great, dark eyes; for he had great, dark eyes, and very fine eyes, too—not without a certain change in their depths sometimes, which, if it was not softness, reminded you, at least, of that feeling. He had been looking two minutes at the fire, and I had been looking the same length of time at him, when, turning suddenly, he caught my gaze fastened on his physiognomy." Gale read aloud, his voice hypnotically rhythmic. 

Each word he spoke reverberated on to your stomach, sending gentle, electrical pulses all throughout your body. The feeling was enough to warm you a little more with each passing minute, a familiar yet patient desire beginning to grow inside of you. Your fingers began to lightly play with his loose locks in an attempt to distract you from your growing arousal, his hair so gently manipulated you doubted he could even feel your ministrations.

"'You examine me, Miss Eyre,' said he: 'do you think me handsome?'"

You smiled as you immediately recognized this as one of your favourite parts in the book, your hands idly starting to braid a small section of his hair to mask your excitement. By the way the pitch of his voice had changed ever so slightly, you were inclined to think Gale was genuinely interested in where the dialogue in the story might go from here.

"I should, if I had deliberated, have replied to this question by something conventionally vague and polite; but the answer somehow slipped from my tongue before I was aware—'No, sir.'"

Gale let out a hearty chuckle as he read the last dialogue tag, resting the book face down for a moment on his lap to peer up at you. 

"This girl reminds me of someone I know, actually," he said with a grin.

This earned him a quiet laugh back, only briefly pausing your braiding to look at his smiling face. "Oh yeah? And who might that be?" You asked playfully, your minding immediately thinking of your mutual friend, Shadowheart. 

"You, my love," he answered, his grin now taking on a more mischievous air to it that rendered your lungs temporarily useless as your heart skipped a beat, the feeling leaving you a little light-headed. With how much his smile grew after your reaction, you were sure he had a fairly good idea of how he was affecting you. 

"Keep going!" You laughed before the blush in your cheeks could grow anymore, setting him back on track with a light tap of your free hand against his stubbled cheek. Looking pleased with himself, he picked the book back up and continued reading.

"'Ah! By my word! there is something singular about you,' said he: 'you have the air of a little nonnette; quaint, quiet, grave, and simple, as you sit with your hands before you, and your eyes generally bent on the carpet (except, by-the-bye, when they are directed piercingly to my face; as just now, for instance); and when one asks you a question, or makes a remark to which you are obliged to reply, you rap out a round rejoinder, which, if not blunt, is at least brusque. What do you mean by it?'" He finished reading the last line with a sigh, lowering the book slightly to look up at you once again. 

"I'd say he's definitely into her, wouldn't you agree?" He conjectured aloud. 

You smiled, happy to see his engagement in the story you loved so dearly. "Uh-huh," you agreed, focusing your concentration on finishing the little braid in his hair.

"What is it that you're so busy with up there, hm?" He asked, reaching his hand up to touch the braid you'd just completed. A smile spread back across his lips as he realized what you'd done with his hair. "Oh, that feels like it looks lovely. Thank you, dear."

He reached over to set the book onto the coffee table, pushing the empty mugs the two of you had been sipping warm tea from earlier aside to make room for it. With a small, barely audible sigh, he sat up between your legs and twisted his torso to face you, his hand resting just beside your outer thigh to support his body weight.

"I might make this to be part of the signature look. What do you think? I'll admit I feel considerably more handsome with it." He said, caressing the braid with one hand, his big eyes boring into yours with a lingering glint of mischief. "Do you think me handsome, young lady?"

Every functioning braincell in your body screamed "yes!" at the question he posed to you, especially seeing as you had let him know how attractive you found him on more than one occasion that week alone. If he hadn't quoted Mr. Rochester so eloquently, you might have been inclined to answer in this same way. Something mischievous, however, bubbled up inside you when he said it, your curiosity wanting to see what might become of teasing him ever so slightly.

"No, sir," you answered, a slight quirk in your lips. 

His eyes seemed to grow darker almost instantly, a smirk forming as a product of your quip. For what it was worth, you assumed the borrowed line would earn you little more than a hearty laugh and an incentive for him to continue reading. Your emphasis on the title (one you had never taken to calling him before) looked to have stirred something more than innocent amusement inside of him and you briefly wondered if calling him that was the best decision on your part.

You did need your legs to work come tomorrow, after all.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, your mind giving you flashbacks of that time on the road with the party when you'd decided to tease him a little too thoroughly. The result? Yours and Gale's night of passion had become so intense that you had no choice but to stay back at camp the next day, every muscle in your body sore and aching. Gale had stayed back with you, ever the gentleman, doting on you and almost ridiculously apologetic for the adventure you'd be missing out on that day because of him. As sorry as he was, however, it didn't stop him from fucking you senseless against a tree in the forest a short distance from the camp when you'd begged him. Against your better judgement, you'd teased him like that on more than one occasion since you'd been back from your travels together and each end result turned out to be better (or worse) than the last, if that was even possible.

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly moved closer toward you, walking his hands forward along the cushion underneath of you, the insides of his wrists just barely brushing the sides of your torso. Your breath caught in your chest as he hovered over you, dark eyes staring back into yours like a starved predator that had just found its next meal. 

"No?" He breathed, his face mere inches away from yours. Candlelight flickered off his sharp features, the sight momentarily mesmerizing you and causing you to shift your gaze away from his intense eyes and onto his rosy lips, delicate and soft looking compared to his somewhat rugged features. He noticed this shift in your attention almost immediately, bringing his index finger up under your chin to gently guide your gaze back toward him.

"Say it again." He commanded, voice stern. 

A familiar dizzying feeling that originated in your stomach came over as you processed his words. It left you a little breathless once again, your senses now properly heady with growing desire. 

"No, I don't think you handsome." You near-whispered back to him, his lips so close to yours now that they were almost touching, causing your eyelids to droop slightly with desire. "Sir."

His head dropped painstakingly closer at your confession, the space between your mouths so miniscule it would've only taken you to flinch to touch your lips to his. His warm breath mixed with yours and you wanted nothing more in that moment than to wrap your arms around his neck and properly smother him. But at the same time, you also wanted to know what game he was playing at, genuinely curious to see where this might lead. You were the one who had started it, after all.

Slowly, he lowered his lips to yours, only giving you the faintest whisper of a kiss before you felt a smile grow on his lips and he whispered against your mouth, "And I think you're a liar."

The words reacted with your body in a way that threatened to prove him right, that warm feeling pooling in your lower abdomen turning a temperature not far off from molten lava. Gale must have easily picked up on this from the way he let out a breathy little laugh into the corner of your mouth, his neatly stubbled chin brushing against yours slightly. 

"And you know how I feel about liars, don't you, love?" He teased in that voice usually saved for his classroom at Blackstaff, his mouth moving to place delicate kisses along your cheek and slowly working his way down, his head burrowing itself in the crook of your neck. Your hands finally betrayed you, your arms snaking their way around the sides of his head, your fingers threading themselves through his soft hair in an attempt to keep him in that position. 

His affections moved lower down your neck and into the space just below your clavicle, his one hand moving to fiddle with the little buttons that held closed one of the old button up shirts of his you'd thrown on earlier that morning. It was your usual Sunday attire, the length of it long enough to rest just above your knees, the need to wear pants with it futile when it would just be the two of you for the day. That and you knew how crazy it drove him to see you in nothing but one of his shirts and a thin pair of underwear. 

Freeing the first button, he brough his mouth back down to your skin as he worked on the next ones. "Not only do they need to be punished for their miscreant behaviors, but that behavior also needs to be rectified if there is any hope of them recovering from their impropriety." He said somewhat breathlessly against your chest, the sound vibrating throughout your entire body.

No sooner did the final button on your shirt give way was the thin material being yanked open by eager hands, the slight chill that lingered in the tower causing your bare nipples to perk. Gale pulled away slightly to rake his eyes over your partially exposed body, his gaze like a comforting caress you'd come to know so well and long for so often.

He whispered something under his breath that sounded much like 'Gods...' before shifting back down to press his warm mouth to the space between your breasts. The feeling was like no other. It was magical; he was magical, with or without the power of the Weave. 

His soft lips drifted over your breast to land on your nipple, kissing it softly while looking up to meet your eyes, asking for permission. You sucked in a short breath and managed to nod ever so slightly, too focused on what he was doing to be able to think clearly. Slowly, his wet tongue met with your sensitive nipple, the sensation of that mixed with the suction his mouth had created driving you wild. Against your own volition, your back arched upward into him as if you were nothing more than a marionette whose strings were tied to his practiced fingertips, every movement your body made just an extension of his careful manipulation of your desire. You didn't particularly mind; Gale was one of the only guys you'd ever met who had taken so much time to learn in great detail the ways in which to make you feel good. It was something you never thought you'd come to have in life, though now that you had it, you knew you would never be able to settle for anything less.

A pathetic-sounding whimper escaped past your lips as his tongue swirled around your nipple for a final time before alternating to your other breast. You could feel how his breathing had increased since he had started his form of worship on your body, his exhales fanning out in little pants of warm air over your breast. It was almost too much to bear. 

Before you could open your mouth to demand he just take you already, his mouth detached itself from your breast to trail intermittent kisses down your stomach, his eyes never leaving yours.  You felt your heart skip a beat as he passed over your navel, his fingers coming to rest at the waistband of your underwear. 

"Shall we continue?" He asked with his chin hovering just above your pubic bone, a certain hunger palpable in his aura. "Or will I need to find other ways to change my pretty little liar's mind?"

You managed a desperate nod and when he didn't make any move to continue, a strangled, "Yes, please."

Your words seemed to appease him and with a swift motion, your underwear was down your legs and being slipped off your ankles, falling to the floor along with the blanket the two of you had been covered up with earlier. He snaked his arms under your knees, pushing them up gently and guiding your feet over his shoulders so that you were fully exposed to him. You felt your heart rate spike a little when his hands came to rub along your outer thighs and hips reverently, placing little kisses along your inner thighs and inching closer and closer to the apex of them. 

A breathless gasp escaped you as you watched him place a firm kiss to the center of your clit, the sudden sensation making you squirm in his grasp. A quick, victorious smile spread across his lips at your reaction and you had the sudden premonition that you were really about to be in for it.

Opening his mouth slightly, he placed that 'practiced' tongue of his flat against that little bundle of nerves before curling it wickedly to swirl the bud around in a way that made your head spin. The sensation itself was almost too much to bear, though in the same breath, you prayed to any god you could think of just to beg that he would never stop. 

As if he could read your mind, his mouth moved further down your slit to lap at the pooling wetness that gathered farther down. A low moan escaped your chest at the sight and you felt him smile again in response, his eyelids fluttering slightly to look at you through thick lashes. 

"How's the view, my dear?" He asked teasingly, pulling away from your heat slightly to give you a good look at the thick layer of your juices that glistened on and around his lips, showcasing the sinful mess like some kind of artwork. "Changed your mind yet?"

You contemplated this for a second while frantically trying to catch your breath, the way he was looking at you from between your dampened thighs making this a near impossible task itself. As much as you wanted to admit how you loved the way he looked from your current perspective, you loved toying with his ego just as much. It was simply too much fun, not to mention exceptionally rewarding (sexually and otherwise) for you more often than not. 

"I- I'd like to see the full extent of your talents before... coming to a decision." Throwing what you hoped was a seductive smile his way, you added, "If you'd be willing to indulge me, that is."

This earned you one of his heart-stopping smirks, that sparkle in his eyes a telltale sign of both his amusement and arousal. "Oh, finally found your words, have you? If you insist, my little minx." He retorted, voice suddenly dropping down to that husky octave he knew drove you wild. "I'd be my pleasure."

Yep, you definitely were not going to be walk out of this one on functional legs. That much you were now certain about.

His eyes still locked with yours, he sank his face down between your legs once again, his tongue moving to press against your entrance this time while his nose nestled itself against your clit. The feeling set off an intense fluttering sensation in your stomach and you had to fight the sudden urge to buck against him. 

Without warning, his hands curled themselves around the back of your thighs and gripped your hips firmly, pulling you up to meet his face at an even more flush angle. With the better access granted to him from your new position, he started lapping away at your pussy with such fervor you couldn't help the desperate whimpers you tried to supress from escaping the back of your throat. He continued to work his tongue up and down your delicate folds, occasionally breaking rhythm to push his tongue into your tight pussy teasingly.

The way he was working your sex felt nothing short of heavenly, a juxtaposition to the absolutely sinful noises coming from both his mouth and intense suckling. His eyes closed at some point in the process, his brow furrowed in deep concentration and - from what you could see in the dim candlelight - a light blush beginning to creep into his cheeks, staining them an adorably rosy pink. The sight itself was nearly enough to send you over the edge. He truly was beautiful.  

Your pleasure took on new heights when his thumb crept along your hip to land on your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make you squirm uncontrollably. Your hand moved instinctively to clutch the top of his head, your fingers finding purchase in his smooth tresses in yet another desperate attempt to keep him right where he was. The added stimulation was almost too much, and you felt that familiar string of desire grow taught behind your navel with every swipe of his tongue. Gale, sensing the fast-approaching crest of your orgasm, took this as motivation to increase the intensity of his ministrations, his tongue lapping at your wet cunt like a man starved. Your chest heaved to a point you were certain you couldn't take anymore, a few sections of your loose hair sticking to and curling around your neck a little more each time you tossed your head from side to side on the plush pillow your neck rested on.  The change in pace caused the cross between a whimper and a moan to escape from the back of your throat and your grip on his hair grew impossibly tighter. 

"Mmm... that's it, darling. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours. You're doing so good for me, so good..." he breathed against your pussy, his warm breath on your sensitive parts only adding to the sweet torture. His eyes flitted open, locking directly onto yours while his thumb - ever persistent - continued it's own form of artistry on your clit. "Now, come for me."

His words were enough to finally push you over the edge, your climax surging through your body in wave of pure ecstasy. A desperate moan erupted from within you as your hips bucked into his face, your voice ringing out suddenly in the space around you. A low, guttural sound released itself from deep within his chest and reverberated deliciously off your pussy as he ate you through completion. The feeling was utterly intoxicating, and you were certain nothing you had ever experienced up until that point felt nearly as good as this.

"Good girl, falling apart so beautifully for me," he praised as he softly lowered your trembling hips back down to meet the couch cushion after giving your clit one last kiss and pulling away slightly. His chest heaved with exertion as he licked his lips with a lascivious smile. "Might I dare ask for the verdict? Or is it too soon?"

Your hands moved to brush away a few loose strands of hair from where they fell in front of his eyes, your palm resting on his stubbled cheek. Taking quiet notice of the way his ends of his hair had started to curl slightly from your mixed perspirations, you realized you felt about as flush as he looked though you had no intentions of leaving the extent of your fun at that for the night. A blissful post-orgasmic haze washed over you and you felt that you were all but glowing with how much love you harbored for him in that particular moment.

"You've never looked so beautiful as you do now," you answered, trying to catch your breath. "How is it that you're my man?"

He smiled, a rare and bashful boyish kind that only emerged as a result of any praise you gave him. Over time, you'd found this to be a reaction only you could stir from him, whether it was in relation to his beautifully bright mind and the extensive knowledge he kept within it or his considerable talent both in and out of the bedroom. Either way, you always loved seeing the way your words could affect him. After all, you'd just experienced (yet again) how much a few words from him could affect you. It only seemed fair. 

Speaking of fair, you were reminded of how much you suddenly longed to even the scoreboard between the two of you and at least attempt to show him an equal act of reciprocity as he came over you again, the noticeable bulge in his trousers brushing briefly against your thigh as he brought himself to hover over you. The feeling intensified as he brought his lips down to meet yours once again, the lingering taste of yourself on his tongue driving you even more wild. 

"I am yours, body and soul," he whispered between kisses. "And you, my dear, are all mine." 

His tongue tangled with yours with a way that moved from sweet and gentle to hungry and primal, as if he was trying to further prove his point by claiming you with his mouth. The intensity of it was enough to stoke the fire in your core again, the thought of him laying claim to you in such a way intercepting any coherent though from forming in your head. You nearly forgot about your improvised plan as his hands roved their way up your sides and kneaded your breasts in a way you knew he wasn't finished wringing pleasure from you and showing you the ways in which you were his. Appealing as it was to you, the thought of how he would look writhing under you as you drew out wave after wave of pleasure from him was really what set your loins alight.

"There is another angle that I'd like to test out, however," you managed to breathe out against his fervent kisses, causing him to slow ever so slightly in interest.

He raised an eyebrow, a curious look glimmering in his eye. "Is that so?"

You nodded.

"And what might that be?" He asked.

You dragged your hands along his torso just as he had done to you, goosebumps rising in their wake. "Let me show you," you whispered against his lips.

His lips met with your again as you began to sit up from where you lay on the couch, placing a gentle hand to his chest as you pushed him onto his back and your other hand moved a pillow under his head, careful to never break your kiss in the process. You felt his breath hitch as you fumbled with the buttons on his long cardigan, his hands coming up to weave themselves in your hair. The thought of pleasing him so easily made your heart soar; you wanted to nothing more than to make him feel as good as he had made you feel and it made you indescribably happy to know you were already on your way there. 

Little time elapsed between the point where you finished undoing the last button on his sweater and when it was being shrugged down and off his shoulders, landing somewhere on the floor beside the couch. You finally broke your intense kiss to move slightly back and take in the view of his bare chest before you.

The sight of him never failed to take your breath away; his broad shoulders and defined muscles looking like they were carefully crafted by the hands of the gods themselves, the flickering candlelight highlighting the depth of his considerable pectoral muscles and the swirls of dark hair that ran along them and down his chest. You couldn't help but follow the little trail from where it was thickest across his sternum down to where it thinned out slightly over his abdominal muscles and then grew denser where his trousers rested. The thought of what lies beneath them made your core clench around nothing, your need to pleasure him growing with each passing minute.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest quicken as you laid your hands on his stomach gently, moving them up slowly toward his pectorals in exploration as you lowered your head to burrow into his neck. His hands took hold of your torso to bring it flush against his as you alternated between placing delicate kisses on his neck and gently nipping at it, moving into that spot just below his right ear you knew made him particularly responsive. Sure enough, a low groan escaped him as your lips met his skin there, his hands tightening their grip on you. You smiled before jutting your tongue out to press it against his warm neck and then sealing it by pressing a kiss over it once more. 

This seemed to stir something entirely new and hungry in him, his hands now desperately seeking purchase on the sides of your head and bringing your lips up to meet his once again. He let out another groan as he devoured you, your mouths moving in a frantic tandem against each other in an intense dance of tongues and lips. You wanted it to last forever.

Pulling away slightly for air, you watched as a small string of saliva connected your bottom lips. The sight of it made you feel weak with desire, suddenly picturing what that same string of spittle might look on other certain parts of him. From the way he was eyeing your lip in return, you guessed the sight ignited something similar in him.

"You torture me, wicked girl" he rasped.

"Oh, sweet thing," you smiled innocently, "we're only getting started."

You saw his eyes widen ever so slightly at your insinuation and you felt a sense of pride in your choice of words. It wasn't easy to leave Gale Dekarios speechless, though you'd just done it singlehandedly.

Lowering your lips back to down to meet his chest, you heard him sharply inhale above you as you placed gentle kisses down his sternum and through the trail of hair that grew there. His scent filled your nostrils: a mix of the sweet-smelling body wash he used, the musk that rubbed off the ancient leather-bound books he always had his nose stuck in, and a tinge of sweat that had accumulated over the course of the day. It had to be one of your favourite scents, so familiar to you by now that it had, at some point, started to smell like home to you. You relaxed at the thought, any lingering anxiety you harbored and carried with you up until that point melting away into nothingness.

Your kisses trailed lower down his stomach as you dragged your fingernails lightly along his chest as you went, his breaths increasing a little more the closer you got to the waistband of his loose-fitting trousers. When you could travel down no farther, you moved your hands to rest on top of his hips, gently massaging the muscles underneath and looking back up to meet his eyes once again.

You knew this type of intercourse - one where he was the one on the receiving end, rather than the other way around - was a sensitive area for him. For years, he'd become accustomed to sexual experiences that only served to satisfy the other party: his goddess. Gale was nothing if not a generous lover and as much as you believed him when he told how arousing he found going down on you, the thought of him not receiving the same amount of care and devotion he gave to his goddess - to you - simply didn't sit right with you.

Mystra had him smitten from a young age, using her celestial power to always extract exactly what she wanted from him. The thought made you sick on the best of days, and what was even worse was how Gale had stood completely oblivious to her toxic manipulation of him until you entered his life not even a year ago. To heal from the damage that she'd inflicted over such a considerably long time was no small feat for him, though it was a battle you refused to let him fight alone in. You were in it together, no matter how rough the road ahead got at times. And oh, could it get rough. 

You recalled one of the nights you'd spent together early on in your relationship when you'd begun to explore each other's bodies more freely. What started as an innocent make out session in his tent quickly turned heated and desperate, the thrill of the newfound lust sizzling between the two of you giving you the confidence to attempt to try something new. You'd accumulated a certain amount of guilt over the previous few nights from how he would spend literal hours pleasuring you in ways you hadn't dreamed possible up until that point and then proceed to tuck both of you into bed when he sensed you were well and truly spent for the time being, not giving you the chance to even attempt to return the favor.

On this particular night, however, you'd managed to beat him to the chase. All was well until you'd shimmied his night pants down his legs and took hold of his cock, stroking it in a way you hoped felt at least alright to him. His muscles tensed at your touch and his face contorted slightly, raising himself up suddenly on his elbows in alarm. 

"W-What are you doing, love? I thought..." he asked, his sudden concerning behavior instantly causing you to believe you'd done something wrong. It was your first time having done such things to a man before, and the confidence you felt in your abilities was already scarce and dwindling to start off with.

You instantly pulled back, taking your hands off his body and shoving them under your arms as if you'd been burned as your heart began to hammer in your chest. "Oh gods, I'm sorry, Gale. I- I can't believe I... I’m really sorry, I've never done this before and I was... just... just trying to make you feel good too, as you've done for me all these nights. It just seemed... fair to me." You rambled as your voice began to quiver, desperately fighting back the sudden onslaught of tears that threatened to prickle through and overflow so easily. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him and ruin this beautiful thing you'd built together.

The look on his face at your confession was equal parts remorseful and understanding. "Oh love, no. You are doing wonderfully. I'm the one at fault here and I apologize, I regret not wording that question better. I just... well, these are new sensations to me, you see. I am uh... somewhat unexperienced in this area as well." He scratched the back of his head, his cheeks reddening slightly from what you assumed was both his own confession and how his body was currently fully exposed. You reached over to retrieve one of his blankets and drape it over him gently, hoping it would help him to feel less self conscious. 

Realization hit you like an early morning light as you smoothed the blanket down. "Have you ever had...?" You asked quietly. To think Gale - your sweet, precious Gale who could give head intense enough to cause you to nearly leave your body all together and was by far the most doting lover you'd ever known - had yet to experience a basic level of reciprocity from a lover at this point in his life was something you had a hard time wrapping your head around. If that was simply something thing he wasn't into, then that was completely understandable in and of itself. But to never have had that offer given to him in the first place? What kind of relationship had he had with this goddess of his?

"Would you laugh if I said I hadn't?" He answered, his voice dropping down to the same octave as yours.

"Are you kidding? Of course not!" You reassured him, taking one of his hands to give it a firm squeeze of solidarity. "Though the question is... is this something you want? I would really love to give this to you, but only if you're comfortable with it."

His hand gave yours a squeeze back almost instantaneously, maneuvering the placement of his to thread his fingers in between yours. "I would love nothing more. Though I will warn you, the experience might not... last very long. Considering..." He said sheepishly, giving you a half smile and motioning to the tent that had been created between his legs when you placed the blanket over him.

"Gale Dekarios, you are an utter fool if you think I care even for a second about such things." You leaned over to kiss him once before returning to your original position between his legs, taking the blanket on his lap with you. 

Gale had been truthful in his confession, as always. He had come undone for you with little more than a bit of light teasing and a few strokes to his cock, your warm mouth wrapping around the tip to catch his spend in an attempt to please him further. It definitely seemed to work, the intensity of the orgasm that ripped through him bringing him to literal tears. The reaction flattered you more than anything, though you were a little concerned about the true meaning of the tears that erupted from him so suddenly.

After gently redressing his lower half, putting out the lanterns in his tent, and pulling a blanket over the both of you, you settled beside him in bed for the night. He'd nuzzled his head into your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you, bringing your body as close to his as possible.

And then he'd gently wept into your shoulder for the better part of an hour.

It was the most vulnerability he'd shown you until that point, and your heart broke to know he'd been carrying around that hurt within him for heaven knows how long. Despite it all, you felt a certain energy change in the tent that night, as if years worth of trauma had begun to lift itself off his shoulders. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't cried along with him when he started whispering how sorry he was; sorry that he was so weak and naive in the face of Mystra, sorry that he loved you so much and smothered you with his emotions like this, sorry that he was the one you decided to love. 

How he could ever believe such things to be true felt like someone driving a stake right through your heart and twisting the handle maliciously. Since the moment you made the decision to pull him out of that mysterious rune after you'd crashed on the Nautiloid, you'd felt nothing but pure, blossoming adoration for the man. With his flowery language and bad jokes, he emerged as a small but bright and persistent beacon of light in your otherwise bleak life and for that you were forever grateful. When he told you the story behind his need for magical artifacts and of what Mystra had done to him - how she'd used him for so many years and then simply tossed him aside at the drop of a hat - you'd struggled to fight back tears the entire time he talked, his face alarmingly calm and passive as he spoke of his mistreatment. His words replayed themselves in your mind as you tried to fall asleep each night from then on, utterly and thoroughly disgusted with the woman this sweet wizard worshipped and even more furious at the fact that she'd done such a good job of pulling the wool over his eyes for so long. And then came the night when dear old Elminster barged his way into your camp to deliver Gale his death sentence, handed down by none other than the conniving goddess herself. His emotions had been intense that night, though you could hardly call your moment in the meadow together "smothering". You loved him, even with all his strings attached. You loved him, and nothing could ever change that, not even death.

And so, this was exactly what you told him, your voice unwavering as you professed your conviction into the top of his head. His tears began to slow as he whispered over and over how much he loved you and how glad he was to have found you between jagged inhales. You echoed his sentiments and placed soft kisses to sporadic spots on his head, wishing there was a way to kiss all the hurt off of him. While massaging small circles into his bare back with your fingertips, you felt his breathing begin to slow and after a few minutes you knew he had fallen asleep in your arms.

Something between you had shifted that night, as if both of you had finally realized how much you needed each other. The rest was history from there.

How far you'd come in those few months to end up where you were now, lounging and making love to each other on his couch in Waterdeep. You could recall when the very idea of relaxing a random Sunday away on a couch seemed like a luxury, never mind being able to spend that day alongside the love of your life. There was a time when certain death loomed over your head so heavily it might as well have been set in stone, making the idea of dreaming up a future beyond a few weeks in advance feel laughable. Hells, Gale had even been given orders to sacrifice himself by his ex-goddess, hadn't he? Yet here you both were, against all odds. 

As you looked into his eyes from your position between his legs - a position so similar to the one you'd been in that night - you briefly entertained the idea of his mind drifting back to that very same memory you shared with him. You wondered if he too contemplated the unexpected turn your lives had taken you in and the mystery behind the lucky hand both of you had ultimately been dealt. Either way, you were contented to know that everything had turned out for the better.

"Tell me, baby," you whispered, your tone equal parts seductive and playful. "Is this what you want?" You slipped your index finger just under the waistband of his trousers and dragged it along his skin lightly, watching his reaction carefully. 

He sucked in a breath, his eyes growing dark once again. "Yes. Oh gods, yes." When you simply raised an eyebrow, he added a pained, "Please."

Satisfied, you undid the fastenings on his trousers and pulled them down his legs, throwing them in the general direction he'd thrown your underwear earlier. His cock sprang free from it's confines immediately, painfully erect from where it stood in front of your face. You looked back up at him once more, waiting for just one more sign of approval.

His hand squeezed the one that rested again on his hip in return, his other hand reaching down to cup your cheek gently. His fingers brushed against your jawline briefly before threading themselves through your hair and gathering it up and away from your face. You smiled at the endearing gesture (even if it was only to give him a better view of what you were doing) and placed your hand around the base of his cock, marveling at its size. Gale truly was a work of art, inside and out. 

Slowly, you brought your hand up his shaft and rested your thumb on his swollen tip, relaxing your hand to mold to his girth as you went. You saw him tilt his head up to the ceiling in your periphery, his other hand detaching itself from yours to tangle his fingers in your hair on the other side of your head. Any loose strands that had potential for getting in the way went with it, clearing the way for you to work your own kind of magic on him.

After stroking his length a few times, you lowered your lips to gently kiss the tip of his cock. His fingers in your hair tightened in response and you couldn't help but smile; how fast this man could fold from simple foreplay never failed to amaze you. Lifting slightly to lick your lips, you lowered back down onto his cock, this time slowly taking him into your mouth. Breathing through your nose, you took as much of him as you could before hollowing out your cheeks and sucking in that way you knew made him melt beneath you. 

"Oh - oh, fuck! Yes, just like that. Don't stop, please - don't..." he cried out above you, that usual eloquent vocabulary he was so predisposed to using now replaced by half-finished, non-sensical sentences.

You eagerly take his encouragement to continue and begin what starts as a slow bob along his length, your lips stretching around his girth as his cock stinks a little farther down your throat with each pass. Your pace gradually picks up, the little beads of saliva escaping your lips mixing with his milky precum, aiding your ability to glide along his length. As you do, you feel your tongue trace down one of his veins and his pulse began to hammer in your mouth. You'd never felt anything quite like it before, the sensation sending tangible pools of heat between your legs once again, your body and clit alike buzzing with arousal. 

Your hand drifts back to the base of his cock as you come up for air, his tip slipping from your mouth with a little pop that coaxed his eyes open again. He looked confused at the sudden loss of stimulation coming from your mouth and you tried telling yourself it was only to tease him along, not because your vision had become almost completely obscured by your watering eyes and you were in desperate need of a minute to catch your breath. Well, you thought, maybe it was a bit of both.

"Is it oh-" he started, interrupted by a clever flick of your wrist around his shaft. "Is it your intent t- to break me into a thousand pieces with your sweet torment?" His voice shook a great deal more than you presumed he intended for it to with each syllable that passed through his lips. "Because if it is... you've shattered me."

Smiling, you continued to pump his length torturously, moving to settle back down to where his balls lay to pepper wet kisses over the surface of them. "Perhaps..." you teased as he moaned again loudly, your explorative ministration clearly affecting him in the best of ways. "Besides ... your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still." 

Your quote's origin was lost on him, though the meaning of your words definitely was not. You looked forward to the day when the two of you would come across that very same line in the book you were reading, however long that might take you. 

"Waxing poetic as we're making love, are you now? If I didn't know any better, I might think my habits are starting to rub off on you."

You shot him a wicked smile before trailing your tongue up his length, already dripping with your combined fluids. When you reach the top, you take one last inhale through your nose before taking him in your mouth again, doing your best to concentrate on relaxing your throat as you take him in as far as you can manage. You feel the little patch of curls at his root brush against the tip of your nose as you hold yourself there, the fingers he had threaded in your hair pulling at your scalp painfully.

Although you sensed his release was fast approaching, he pulled your head off his cock forcefully with little warning. His sudden change in behavior confused you, though you knew from the wild look in his eye when he brought your head up to be in line with his that you had done nothing to upset him, but rather the opposite.

"Did you really think you'd get away with that, little minx?" He taunted, propping himself up on the hand that didn't have your hair in a death grip, leaning in to give you a sloppy, breathless kiss. When you gave no immediate answer, he yanked your hair back a little, causing you to gasp. "Hmm? What was that?"

The sudden dark edge he had taken on shifted something within you, the increasing amount of adrenaline now running through your body igniting you need for him in ways you didn't know were possible. You knew this game he aimed to play; he told you he once read how a little bit of danger - of fear - could heighten other senses simultaneously as a way of flirting before your relationship had taken flight. Of course, you had given it right back to him, much to his incredulity, though he had yet to demonstrate his knowledge of the subject with you up until that point. 

You shook your head weakly in response to his demanding question. When he merely raised an eyebrow, you managed to squeak out a pathetic, "No."

"No? 'No' what?" He asked again, shifting his bodyweight to sit up fully on his knees, his hand drifting to lazily stroke his cock beneath you. When he purposely dragged the tip along your stomach, you attempted to advert your eyes from his to look down. He was, unfortunately for you, already one step ahead of you and pulled your head back a little harder this time to force you to look at him over your nose. "Not yet, little mouse."

The new pet name had you feeling like you were practically coming apart at the seams and you barely managed a shaky inhale through your nose, all other senses completely and utterly overwhelmed. 

"No, I didn't think that," You panted, voice barely above a whisper. The pieces finally clicked into place in your head and you added, in the most innocent way possible, what he really wanted: a squeaky little, “Sir." 

If getting him to absolutely ravage you meant you were to be a helpless little mouse in his eyes, then you swore to fuck you were about to be the squeakiest little rodent in all of Faerûn.

"Turn around." Came his curt reply, letting go of your hair abruptly to allow you to move freely. You had no objection to his order, spinning around to sit obediently on your knees with your back to him. With hurried desperation, he helped you shrug the shirt you hadn't fully taken off before down your shoulders and onto the floor, wiggling back into him until his knees brushed the backside of yours, your shins abducted to rest along his outer thighs.

He wasted no time in rising on his knees, snaking his left arm around your hip to laying his hand flush against your lower abdomen while his right curled its way around your throat, tilting your head back slightly so you could glance over your shoulder at him. He had made sure to press his body as closely as he could against your backside in the process, his hardness pressed into the curve of your ass in a way that would've had you squirming if not for his firm grip on you. 

"Look at you, needy little thing. What do you say we try another form of stimulation, hmm? Perhaps one that involves me bending you over and fucking you completely senseless until your mind is shattered into a thousand little pieces, just as you had intended for me?" His left hand trails lower to the apex of your thighs as he speaks, the pad of his middle finger rubbing your clit menacingly. The sensation has you whimpering in frustration, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes from all his tortuous teasing. 

"Yes, please, yes," you beg, desperately grinding back into him with a force that had him panting in your ear along with you. 

Much to your dismay, he abruptly removed his adept finger from where it swirled idly around your clit, your body aching at the loss of such sweet stimulation. Before you could think much of it, however, his hand began manipulating his member, sliding it along your slick entrance and through your clenched thighs. It wasn't long before he was pressing the thick head of his cock into you, your back arching in response.

With what remained of his self-control, he gradually pushed into you, allowing you a few extra moments to adjust around his girth. Both of you let out a low groan of relief when he was finally fully seated inside you, his cock buried to the hilt. The feeling was nothing short of exquisite and you could feel your body already thrumming with pleasure.

Slowly, he started to thrust his hips up into yours, his warm sex burying deep within of you as his hand moved to grip your hip hard enough to leave bruises. The snap of hips gradually turned more forceful, and you could feel where the tip of him gently nudged at your cervix with each thrust. The sensation had you crying out, his loose grip on your throat suddenly growing firm. 

"You feel so good, you know that?" He praised in your ear, your hair falling in your face from the force he was pounding into you with. His statement was punctuated with a low moan that just about made you lose your mind, the sound of his skin slapping against yours only adding to the effect. You felt like a ragdoll in his grip, your legs now completely useless and the rest of your body not far off from being delightfully limp. 

As if sensing this weakness in you, he moved to gently hinge you forward so you could rest on your forearms, thoughtfully placing one of the thicker pillows under your stomach for support. You were instantly thankful for the short reprieve, especially when he lowered down to press his stomach into your back, his thrusts growing in intensity and desperation. Almost every part of his body was flush against yours as he fucked into you with abandon and you almost screamed aloud when his hand came to rest on your clit once more, massaging it in a way that nearly had your vision going black. It was no surprise to find your orgasm rapidly cresting once more, the buildup to it releasing frustrated tears from your eyes.

"That's it, my love, keep going. You're being such a good girl." He praised in your ear, using the hand he kept at your throat to turn your head to the side. Between his words and the speed at which he was suddenly strumming your clit at, you felt about ready to explode from the intensity of your pleasure. "I want you to come for me. Don't you dare hold back, I want to hear everything. I want to feel you."

It was the million sensations you felt crashing down on you all at once that finally tipped you over the edge, writhing beneath him helplessly as wave of earth-shattering euphoria washed over you. A synchronized moan released from both of you as you clenched around him, coaxing Gale to his own end. Driving into you one final time, you felt him spill himself as far inside you as he could manage, slumping against your back as you both fought to catch your breath. 

"That was... wow," you breathed after a moment of silence. "Who taught you how to fuck like that?" As soon as the words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them. "Actually, never mind. I don't need to know that."

He laughed, kissing your cheek as you felt him twitch inside you for a final time. The feeling caused instant butterflies to take flight behind your navel, a contented little sigh leaving your chest. Despite both of you being truly and utterly spent for the rest of the night, his cock remained buried deep inside you, neither of you possessing the strength to peel apart from each other quite yet.

"Funny enough, a good portion of that came from that novel on your beside table you seem to like so much. The rest... well, I'm afraid that was all improvisation on my part, darling."

Your eyes widened at his words, instantly chiding yourself for leaving that book out in the open where his curious eyes would no doubt take a peek into it.

"You're kidding! Oh, please say you're messing with me!" You pleaded, somewhat horrified. You supposed you couldn't be too angry with him, though. The circumstances had turned out to be highly in your favor, after all. 

"Unfortunately, I'm not. Though I already presumed you to have an excellent taste in fiction, the scene where he makes love to her on the kitchen table was truly riveting, if I do say so myself." He teased, idly drawing squiggly little lines up your spine.

"I'm never living this one down, am I?" You asked with your face buried in palms, though you already suspected what the answer would be.

"Not as long as I'm around, sweetheart." He confirmed placing a firm kiss to the bony prominence in the back of your neck. "I love you, so, so very much." He confessed into your shoulder, the sincerity in his voice stealing the air from your lungs once again. 

Just as you were about to echo the endearment, you eye caught on a colourful flash of something in your shared room across the hall. Raising your head up to squint in the mysterious object's direction, you quickly realized it was the dress you'd pulled out to wear tonight. To Morena's birthday dinner. With Gale. Tonight. 

You whipped your head around to look at the clock on the wall, panic quickly setting in. 

5:47. 

Oh, this was about to be disastrous. 

"Gale! Your mother!" You exclaimed, pulling away from him abruptly. You felt his spend leak from you slightly as his now flaccid cock exited your pussy, eliciting a pained groan from him. 

"What does my mother have to do with this?" He gestured vaguely to your ravaged features, leaking sex and all.

"It's her birthday and she invited us over for supper, remember? We're about to be late!" You picked up the previously discarded blanket on the floor to wrap it around your naked body and scurried into the bedroom, your legs still a little weak and wobbly. 

"Surely she won't mind if we're a little tardy, dear." He protested from the couch, lying back into the cushions. 

It took you giving him a stern look and trotting back to physically drag him off the couch to get him to acquiesce to your warning. Just as you were about to turn back to getting yourself ready, you remembered how your previous conversation had been cut short.

Taking his hand in yours and looking up to meet his gaze, you said, "And you must know I love you, too. Beyond what words could ever describe."

A shy smile spread across his face, his eyes shimmering in the flickering candlelight. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he placed a the softest of kisses to the back of it, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. You clutched the two ends of the blanket wrapped around you together desperately, as if it was your last piece of sanity rather than the only thing keeping you - against your better judgement - from climbing him like a tree right then and there.

"Of course I do, my love. But I enjoy hearing you tell me all the same." Time seemed to slow as you stood there together, the sight of his naked body before you making it difficult to think straight.

"C'mon, you tease. We've got..." You glanced at the clock again, your tone taking on a more playful edge, "...under 10 minutes to get out the door and you don't even have any clothes on."

"Maybe I would," he countered with a laugh, "if you hadn't stripped them off of me so eagerly."

"Don't act like you didn't do it to me first!" You laughed back, swatting at his chest and heading to the bathroom this time, waiting until the physical distance between you forced you to let go of his hand.

"I'm going for a shower," You announced as you walked away, looking over your shoulder at him when he remained suspiciously quiet. Sure enough, a smug grin had taken form on his face, and you knew what was going on in that pretty head of his almost immediately. "That wasn't an invitation, wizard!

Under the guise that you were too short on time, he had decided to treat your declaration as an invitation anyway, despite your initial protests. It was certainly a struggle cleaning the smell of sex off you in a few short minutes whilst also trying to keep his ever-wandering hands off you, but you'd managed just fine in the end.

The next few minutes passed in a flurry of frenzied last-minute preparations. Gale used a spell to instantly dry your hair to perfection, casting the same one on himself shortly after. You quickly rolled a pair of pantyhose up your legs before shimming into your new dress as he slotted a belt through the loopholes in his pants, his hair adorably ruffled.

To commemorate Morena's 65th birthday, you'd decided (with some reluctance) to splurge on a new dress for the occasion. It wasn't until you went dress shopping one afternoon a few weeks prior, however, that you realized how difficult it was to find a nice one that didn't cost you a whole month's wage. After an entire day of scouring what seemed like every store in Waterdeep to no avail, you'd nearly given up all hope of finding one.

That was, until you bumped into a familiar looking pale elf on the street after dusk.

He had greeted you with his signature, "Darling!" immediately after recognizing you, pulling you in for a friendly hug.

"What are you doing, roaming the streets at such an hour? That foolish wizard of yours hasn't lost his touch already, has he?" He asked, ever the gossip as he linked your arms together and near dragged you up the road with him with his ridiculous amount of enthusiasm. 

"It's nice to see you too, Astarion," you laughed, jogging a little to keep up with him. "I was out looking for a dress. Gale's mother's birthday is in a few weeks' time, and I have absolutely nothing to wear." 

"Oh dear. That is quite the problem indeed." He replied, a grave look on his face. "Though, one I might be obliged to help you with, if you so wish."

You surveyed his face for any signs of mockery but quickly came up short. "In exchange for..." 

He placed a hand to his chest, a gasping dramatically in mock offense. "I am hurt that you think so lowly of me, darling. What do you take me as? Some deceitful, thieving rogue?"

You laughed again, glad to be reunited with the deceitful, thieving rogue once more. "I am not letting you suck on my neck in exchange for making me a dress, Asty. Those days are long since over." 

He stuck out his bottom lip at you, pouting. "Not even a nibble? I can suck on your wrist instead, if that's the problem." He asked innocently and you had to swat him away playfully when he tried to take hold of your wrist. 

"I will pay you in gold, just as in any other regular trade agreement. Do we have a deal?" You stopped to look at him straight on, letting him know you were serious about this. 

He pretended to ponder your offer for a moment before coming to a conclusion. "100 gold, you keep me company for an afternoon back in Baldur's Gate and the most magnificent dress you have ever laid your pretty eyes upon will be delivered to you in no more than 10 days time." He reasoned with an air of finality. When you raised your eyebrows at him expectantly, he added, "And the wizard can come, too, I suppose. I quite miss his terrible jokes, if I'm being honest." He reached his hand out for you to shake. "Deal?"

Smiling, you gave his hand a firm shake. "Deal." You had been meaning to visit him more often anyway, so you were quite satisfied with his added condition to the deal.

He smiled back at you, pleased. "Wonderful. Let's get you measured up." 

After a good hour of wrapping a measuring tape around you in about a hundred different angles and coming up with a general design, you'd invited him to spend the night with you and Gale rather than pay for a room at the inn, an offer he agreed to readily. The two of you scurried arm in arm toward yours and Gale's abode, giggling your way through the now dark and winding streets, excited to see your what your lover's reaction might be when you walked through the door with a dear friend to both of you.

Apparently, Astarion had been in Waterdeep at the time to sort out some kind of business deal he had made with a local bard who hadn't kept up his end of the bargain. He only flashed you both a wicked grin when Gale had asked how he intended to handle the dispute before quickly changing the subject, causing you to chuckle softly into your glass of wine. That poor bard, you thought, though you supposed he had it coming if he was so dense as to cheat Astarion of all people over.

He was gone before either of you awoke the next morning, a note with the address to his place in Baldur's Gate scrawled on it in neat cursive and placed inside a beautiful vase of wildflowers on your kitchen table. Within the following week, a skillfully decorated box was delivered to your door from Baldur's Gate, a beautiful dress made just for you tucked inside.

The colour of it was a dark enough purple to almost be considered black, sleek and formed to hug your every curve perfectly. The length of it trailed down to brush no lower than your ankles, the material fanning out past your knees in a little skirt that allowed you to move your legs easier in it. He had added two-tiered layers of frilly hemming around the bottom of the skirt, the material a pearly, ivory white that shimmered ever so slightly in the light. He'd chosen simple heart-shaped neckline for the dress, using that same pearly material to create thin straps on either side for support, little white bows tied to where they met with the dress on either side. As you observed the way you looked with it on in the mirror, you were certain you wouldn't find a more perfect dress in all of the Sword Coast. 

Gale came over to you just as you were putting in your finest pair of heart-shaped silver earrings, your dress still unzipped in the back due to the impossible range of motion you'd have to possess to do it up yourself. He was already dressed up in a sharp looking suit you'd picked out with him a while back in Baldur's Gate, the purple of his suit jacket a similar shade of purple to your dress. Delicate-looking flowers embroidered in silver crawled up artfully alongside the silver clasps holding the jacket closed on each side, the pattern stopping at his shoulders where a sweeping cape was clasped into place. His pants were made of a smug-fitting, leathery material to match his high-collared undershirt, the few silver rings he adorned on each hand glinting slightly in the firelight. What you loved most of all about his outfit, however, was the charm that hung from his right ear: a simple sliver sword pointed downward with a heart driven through it. You'd gotten it for him a few weeks after you'd come home from your adventure, the earing he wore in honour of Mystra long since been discarded along the road to Baldur's Gate and immediately swapped for the new one. 

His hair seemed to be the only thing he had left to get ready, and you chuckled when he approached you with this comb and a hair tie. You both knew he was perfectly capable of doing it on his own, though he was thoroughly convinced it always looked better when you did it. Turning around and crouching down a little for you, you swept the top portion of his smooth hair up and back toward the back of his head, the strands of gray usually well-hidden by its rich brown colour now well apparent to you in the firelight. The sight of them only made you love him that much more, a gentle reminder of how very human he was. 

Tying off the loose bun, you fixed any fly-aways and adjusted its position to perfection, proud of your quick handiwork. 

"Zip me?" You asked him, turning around yourself as he turned back to face you.

He was more than happy to oblige, his finger gliding the zipper up your back at a much slower speed than necessary. When he reached the top, he leaned down to give your bare shoulder a quick kiss before whispering in your ear.

"Wait here." Was all he said to you before walking over to his bedside table and pulling a small box out of the drawer. As confused as you were in that moment, you obeyed his gentle order, only stealing a quick peek over your shoulder to satiate your curiosity. 

All you heard was the soft sound of him removing the box lid before his hands came around your head to drape something around your neck and close the clasp at the back with a barely perceptible clink, the little cold piece of metal resting an inch or so below the jugular notch between your clavicles. You held it between your fingers and looked down to find a singular sliver charm identical to the one hanging from his ear threaded through a delicate silver chain. The gesture made you start to tear up, turning back around to face him. 

"I wanted to wait to give it to you until your birthday, but you look so beautiful in that dress that I-" You cut off any remaining words in that sentence with a passionate kiss landing directly onto his unsuspecting lips, standing up on your toes and cradling both side of his face with your hands. He quickly deepened the kiss, his hands gripping your waist and gently pulling you into him. 

"Do you like it?" He asked when you both came up for air, his magnificent brown eyes searching yours for anything that might answer his question. You thought it was probably the stupidest question that you had ever heard come out of his mouth. You were still too tearful to tease him about it, so instead you indulged him.

"I love it, Gale. Just as I love you." You punctuated your sentiments with another soft, languid kiss to his lips. Pulling back after a few moments, you were reminded of a line you particularly adored from the novel you were reading together earlier. "All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever.” You quoted to him, each word flowing from your lips with unwavering confidence.

He leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes glassy and brimming with tears. "And every piece of my heart is yours, along with my soul, my body, and whatever else you'll have of me. It's yours, and it was always going to be yours, in the end."

You brushed a lock of hair from his eyes and took one of his hands in your other, stroking the back of it with your thumb reassuringly. "I think it's time to go, love." You reminded him gently.

He nodded, picking up the gift basket you'd made together for his mother. He looked to you again, his gaze soft.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Always," you answered, giving his hand a little squeeze. Your gaze remained unwaveringly focused on him, wanting to absorb this wholesome moment you'd shared as best as you possibly could, locking it away in your mind for safe keeping. 

If fate had been so generous to grant you this soft epilogue, then by the gods you were going to make sure every minute that brought you closer to the end was spent to its fullest, your lover's hand in yours.

~★~

Thank you for reading!

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Mind over Mind - Hero Whumper Villain Whumpee

Warnings: torture, violence, forced compliance, mind control

Summary: Hero almost loses the fight against Villain... until she uses her unique powers to flip the tables.

Villain and Hero had been fighting for only an hour when both of them started to falter from exhaustion, but that's just the kind of fights they got into. Quick. Intense. Violent. Bloody. The kind that's hardly survivable for long.

Hero wielded two wickedly sharp daggers in her hands, while Villain had one in his left, and a serrated hunting blade in the other. Their weapons clashed together repeatedly, showering sparks onto the ground as they fought fiercely for the upper hand, both of them covered in sweat, bruises and dozens of vicious injuries inflicted by their opponent.

"Don't you ever know when to give up?" Hero grunted through gritted teeth as she blocked yet another one of Villain's attacks.

"Nope, apparently not," Villain sneered, and slashed a blade across Hero's ribs, slicing open a deep gash that made her cry out in pain. It was all the opening he needed. He didn't give her a chance to recover.

Villain closed the distance between them and brutally pummeled Hero with a series of quick blows, too fast for her to block or dodge. He punched her gut hard enough to crack ribs, before landing another blow on her jaw with a concussive amount of force, making her head snap back -- and the peak of the fight was over just like that.

Hero faltered and stumbled back with a broken, rattling wheeze, falling to the ground, and Villain descended on her like a bird of prey, wrapping a strong hand around her throat and lifting her up to pin her against a wall, squeezing hard.

Hero's eyes widened as she clawed desperately at the hand cutting off her air, thrashing uselessly in Villain's grip with slowly failing strength.

"The real question is... do you know when to give up?" Villain chuckled coldly.

Blood trickled from both corners of Hero's mouth as her terrified gaze locked with Villain's.

STOP! A booming voice suddenly roared in Villain's head, making him jerk back in surprise, losing his grip on Hero so that she crumpled to the ground, gasping and choking and coughing blood, her eyes still locked intensely on Villain.

Something brushed against Villain's mind that made him shiver, like claws brushing lightly against his brain, wandering and prodding uncertainly, as though searching for a hold. Then those claws turned sharp, deadly, sinking in.

Villain's whole body went stiff, muscles locking in place as that same voice spoke again.

That's right... obey.

Villain's blood went colder than ice, his face going pale as a slow, stretching pain spread through his body, setting every nerve on fire with excruciating agony as it sank into every part of him.

His mouth gaped, he tried to speak, but couldn't find his voice.

He was rooted to the spot with fear as Hero slowly picked herself up off the dirt, gasping and panting as she caught her breath, rubbing her neck where Villain's hand had been mere seconds away from crushing her windpipe.

She straightened with a groan, staggering a little before finding her balance, one arm wrapped protectively around her bleeding midsection. Then a crooked grin that was part-grimace broke out on her face as she spat out a mouthful of blood.

"My, how the tables have turned," she taunted, though it came out in a shallow, weak rasp of air.

"H-How..." Villain breathed, eyes enormous as they watched Hero with sudden wariness.

Because I never reveal all my playing cards, the voice echoed in his head. It sounded like Hero's -- but her mouth hadn't moved.

My single biggest advantage is letting people underestimate me, the voice continued.

Fear -- genuine, raw fear pulsed through Villain's entire being when he tried to move -- but physically couldn't.

He swallowed hard, fighting to tamp down the rising panic and maintain any shred of composure.

"W-What are you doing... how are you doing this?" He snarled, finally snapping out of the shock.

Hero limped towards him until she was inches away, the icy blue depths of her eyes boring into his, full of righteous anger.

"Surprise... my superpower isn't limited to super strength." She grinned wolfishly at his confusion, the utterly bafflement on her enemy's face.

Funny, isn't it? It's almost like... you don't have control over yourself anymore.

Again, Hero's mouth didn't move.

Hero bent over and picked up Villain's own fallen dagger, pressing it into his hand and resting the tip against her chest without a glimmer of fear.

"Go ahead, give it your best shot," she purred. "All it takes is one little push to kill me... try it if you can."

Villain shuddered as those strange mental claws tightened on him.

He gripped his dagger hard, mustering every inch of willpower in him to end it, to finally kill his greatest enemy, be rid of the menace -- his hand trembled, but he couldn't bring the blade forward.

"Don't tell me you're too weak for murder," Hero mocked with a dramatic gasp.

Villain's brow furrowed, and he held the hilt tighter, pushing, yanking against those restraints shackling him in his own mind. The blade jerked forward an inch, but no more than that, and Hero let out a cold, heartless laugh, easily swatting the weapon out of Villain's hand before roughly grabbing his jaw hard enough to bruise, forcing him to look straight into her cruel eyes.

Villain let out a weak whimper, ashamed that the sound even slipped out. But he was injured, and in pain, confused, and so, so scared... fear was a new feeling for him. He was the most powerful villain in the entire city, strong enough to beat Hero on several different occasions -- but never had he been rendered so vulnerable, so useless before, like a puppet with strings, at the complete mercy of his enemy.

Hero carefully wrapped her other hand around his throat, and step by deliberate step, backed him up until he was pinned against the opposite wall. She applied the same pressure that Villain had put on her windpipe earlier, and Villain's chest started heaving as he struggled to keep drawing air. His eyes went huge with disbelief, he couldn't even fight, his arms weren't working right. None of him was, bound and chained by some invisible force.

Spots danced in his vision, and right when he thought he would pass out the pressure on his neck vanished, leaving him taking great gulping gasps of air.

Hero leaned in close, her head right next to his face.

"Doesn't feel very good, does it?" She hissed into his ear before pulling back.

Her fingers trailed down his chest, almost seductively, running over the shredded lines of his suit where long gashes had sliced through and ripped the leather. They stopped at his stomach, grazing over a particularly deep slash right below the ribs.

Villain shuddered with a wince, a low moan escaping him, and he cursed himself for it.

Hero stared at him, then dug her fingers viciously into the wound, never breaking eye contact, her expression deadpan and impassive.

Villain screamed in sheer agony and writhed, which was more like weakly twitching against the bonds holding him in one place.

Hero took her fingers out, and Villain was left trembling all over with pain, his injury throbbing. His head lolled forward, breathing harsh and ragged as he recovered.

"Huh, even agony can't let you break free," she murmured aloud, as though she were experimenting with Villain, testing the limits of her ability. It was dehumanizing, degrading, and flat-out terrifying to know that Hero could do whatever she wanted to him. Holding his life in her hands.

"S-Stop it... L-Let me go..." Villain croaked. He couldn't help the shakiness in his voice, and Hero's eyes lit up at hearing it. "S-Since when could you even do this?" He added.

"Since always," Hero answered flatly. "I just never show it. I don't use this power often, because it is unfathomably taxing on my body in ways you couldn't even imagine, but today... today I'm feeling violent." Her teeth bared into a feral grin, making Villain shiver uneasily.

"I haven't practiced using it much, so I'm curious to see what potential... motivations might be enough for your willpower and desperation to let you break free of my hold." She tilted her head to one side, a lethal predator in every slight movement. "I can break you in so many ways beneath the surface," she whispered dangerously.

"Let's see how strong your resolve is, hmm?" Hero's gaze dropped down where a dagger was, and she stomped on the hilt, skillfully flinging it up into her waiting hand.

Villain whimpered again anxiously, squirming and eyeing the bright metal, and she pressed the blade against his lips.

"Shhh... all you have to do is raise your left hand when the pain becomes too much, and I'll stop," she said mischievously. A deadly game for her, toying with her new victim like a plaything.

Hero leaned close again, her breath ghosting above Villain's carotid artery as she scraped her teeth lightly against his neck, teasing, violating his space.

She trailed the sharp edge of the blade down his bare arm, not breaking skin at first as she smiled coldly. Then she sliced it deep without warning, tearing a ragged wail from Villain as she started carving into his flesh over and over again while her enemy screamed his throat raw.

Villain tried desperately to push her away, to stop the excruciating agony, do something but stand there and take it... but he couldn't. He physically couldn't.

Tears of pure pain spilled out of his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, hiccupping sobs breaking up his breaths at the sheer intensity of it, every time the blade left a fresh mark of fire in his flesh.

He could feel the warm blood sliding down his arm to drip on the floor with every pounding heartbeat, endless suffering. It was worse when she switched from his arm to the sensitive skin of his abdomen, and he screamed and yelped and cried out as the metal bit his skin repeatedly. Hero showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

Eventually the screaming devolved to agonized moaning and pathetic whimpers as Villain lost strength, his throat burning fiercely in the aftermath of all his loud cries.

Now, listen closely...

That voice returned in his head, and his stomach churned with dread. He couldn't take any more torture. Any more pain. His whole body was blazing with it.

Take the knife from my hand, and put it against your throat...

Hero held the dagger in her hand invitingly, stained with Villain's own blood.

Villain moaned as his shaky hand automatically lifted to take the blade, then his body betrayed him by resting the sharp, cool metal right under his chin. He swallowed against it, throat bobbing fearfully.

Saw through your neck.

Villain's eyes widened with terror, hand trembling as he fought against the mental claws Hero had sunk into him. But it was no use. The blade started slicing through his skin, and Villain closed his eyes, another teak leaking out as he accepted his fate.

...Now stop. Villain's body instantly obeyed, stiffening in place.

Villain took a rattling breath, cautiously opening his watery eyes to gauge Hero's expression, which was dark and unreadable.

I want you to remember this moment, her voice hissed into his mind, remember that I held your life in my hands... that I could have killed you right now... and I want you to run away from here with that memory, and the scar on your neck will remind you of me every time you look in the mirror. Run, and never come back. If I EVER see your face again... I will not stop.

And suddenly, a rush of cold washed over Villain, an aching absence of a hollow void that opened up, and Villain collapsed on the ground, panting as he felt those vicious mental claws retreat, releasing him at last.

Hero stepped back, eyes narrowed. "You have ten seconds to remove yourself from my line of sight before I change my mind. Run, or die. Ten."

Villain peered dizzily up at her, his face pale with blood loss. "...You're bluffing," he wheezed in disbelief.

"That is a theory you're certainly welcome to test. Nine." Hero's face stayed harsh and cruel, and Villain lurched to his feet with a gasp, not willing to risk the chance she'd given him.

He stumbled into an awkward, adrenaline-powered run, limping heavily away as fast as he could while Hero's voice trailed after him.

"Eight... seven... six..."

She never got to five before Villain was out of sight, slipping away into a dark alley. Gone. Never seen or heard from again.

I appreciate any and all feedback from my peers! 😁 (and if anyone has any other Hero x Villain prompt ideas or things they'd like to see more of feel free to share them and I might write a story for it)

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba

[frickingnerd]

i hate loving you as much as i do

pairing: luka couffaine x gn!reader

summary: left heartbroken by a missunderstanding, you end up getting akumatized. but luka seeks you out and clears up any missunderstandings by confessing his love to you!

tags: angst to fluff, missunderstandings, happy ending, mentions of marinette/lukanette, luka × reader endgame, wholesome fluff

everything would've been different, if luka had been by your side, like he promised. you never would've gotten akumatized if he had been there. luka would've been able to get through to you with his words and save you. but you were all by yourself when that akuma took over your body. and nobody could prevent what was about to happen…

luka couldn't believe his own eyes when he saw you on the ladyblog, as an akumatized villain. he was late to meet you, when he got an akuma alert and checked the news. and that's when he saw you.

without even thinking about it, luka rushed to the spot you were last seen, knowing he needed to talk to you. as much as he trusted chat noir and ladybug, he knew you better than they did. they'd only hurt you by trying to restrain you. but luka was convinced that if he was there, things would be different! but he was wrong…

“you are the worst thing that happened to me, luka. why would you think your words would do anything to convince me to stop this? i despise you! acting like you care about me, just to forget all about me when she wants to see you–!”

your words were cruel and your voice was different than what luka knew. it was much deeper, almost twisted. the akuma had done more than just change your appearance.

but while your words sounded too mean to truly belong to you, something caught luka's attention. that girl you mentioned, that made him forget about you…

“do you mean marinette…?”

“ha, so you do know what i'm talking about! did you grow tired of playing dumb? of course i mean her! you're always with her! and you can't even see how much you hurt me when you're with her…”

luka's heart sunk. he never knew you were this hurt by him spending time with marinette. but there was no reason to be jealous of marinette!

“marinette is just a friend! you're the one i love!”

for a short moment, your facade seemed to crack. that mean glare on your face vanished and you looked genuinely surprised. but quickly, you grew bitter again and a sad expression covered your face, that made luka's heart ache.

“stop giving me hope. it hurts so much more than if you'd just tell me the truth…”

“it's the truth!” luka sighed. “i've been spending a lot of time with marinette recently, but she was just helping me with a song i wrote for you! i wanted it to be perfect before you heard it and i knew she'd keep it a secret…”

“l-liar… y-you… you have to be… lying–!”

you shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. you couldn't even look at luka, as you heard hawkmoth's voice in your head, trying to convince you all he said was a lie. that luka merely was afraid of you and wanted to weaken you with his words. but was that really true?

“please, look at me…”

you hadn't even noticed that luka had closed the distance between the two of you, gently placing a hand on your cheeks. as your eyes inevitably darted towards him, luka surprised you with a sudden kiss. and as you gave into the kiss, hawkmoth's control over you weakened…

“if my words couldn't convince you, was this kiss able to do it?”

luka looked at you with such fondness. you had said terrible things to him, had accepted hawkmoth's villainous powers and yet he looked at you with such fondness. as if there was nothing you could say or do that would make him hate you.

“i thought you didn't care about me…”

as those words left your lips, you finally regained control over yourself again. hawkmoth lost all power over you and you detransformed back into yourself, as luka quickly wrapped his arms around you. almost as if he was worried you'd slip away again if he didn't hold you close.

“i'm sorry i couldn't show you just how important you are to me. i should've never kept secrets from you, not even to surprise you. i've hurt you so much… can you forgive me?”

you only began to tear up more at luka's words.

“of course i can forgive you! but i'm the one who should be asking for forgiveness instead…”

“don't.” luka brushed it off with a smile. “there's nothing you need to apologize for. what you said earlier, those weren't your words. i know that you were just trying to push me away, because you were hurt…”

“still!” you insisted. “i'm sorry for what i said. i could never hate you. in fact, i… i love you!”

luka's thumb gently stroked your cheek, as he smiled at you. he slowly closed the distance between you, whispering out four little words, before his lips finally met yours again:

“i love you too…”

[dianawinchester03]

Season 1, Episode 21 - Salvation

Series Masterlist

Third Person POV

The silence was deafening as Sam drove down the interstate to Kansas. They decided to take F/N back to Kansas and give him a proper send off. His body was wrapped in a white blanket in the backseat of the Impala. Dean was behind him on Y/N's bike. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, her helmet covered head buried into the croak of his back. She was in no condition to drive at this very moment. The boys had to be strong for Y/N's sake right now, but seeing her so broken.

It tore into their souls. They lost a father figure themselves, but y/n lost her last bit of blood family. 'Family don't end in blood' as Bobby always said, but it still hurts like hell to lose those you care about. As much as Y/N and her father argued, she loved her dad. He was everything to her, a place in her heart no man could fulfill.

________________________________

Lawrence, Kansas

Y/N stood infront of the Hunter's Funeral Pyre, her eyes swollen and red, her face blank. A half drunk bottle of Jack in one hand and a almost burnt out cigarette butt in the other. She has cried her eyes out already, she felt drained as she watched her fathers body, wrapped in a white sheet on the pyer in flames. She left empty on the inside, constantly telling herself it should've been her on that pyre and not her dad.

She hadn't noticed when an unfamiliar van parked behind them. "Dad" Dean says in relief when he sees his father jump out of the van f/n loaned him for emergencies. Sam and Dean give their dad a quick hug, "How's she doing?" He asks his sons, concerned about Y/N. They look back at her with pity etched on their faces.

She was lost in her own thoughts, still not aware of John's presence. "She hasn't said a word since we left, Dad. Sam and I had to strap her in and everything. I rode her bike back and we took all the weapons from F/N's truck but abandoned it" Dean tells him, his voice broken. Seeing Y/N so pained yet so emotionless was heartbreaking for him. Not only losing a father figure but also the woman he loves looks like she's on the brink of insanity.

"She tossed that vampire through the air and made those car windows shatter with just her scream, Dad." Sam whispers to him. "You sure it was her?" John asks for confirmation. They both nod in unison. They shared a silent look, contemplating whether or not to tell their dad what they saw in her eyes when she shattered those windows with her mind.

"What is it boys?" John asks them when he noticed the look his sons shared. "Her eyes. They um...they turned...." Sam whispers, trailing off. "They turned what?" John asks him. "They turned white" Dean informs him. John nods, already having a mind of what's happening. "You're not concerned?" Dean asks him, surprised that John didn't have much of a reaction.

"It's typical for psychics' eyes to turn white when using an immense amount of power. It seems as though the trauma from...." John tears up a bit, taking a deep breath, "The trauma from F/N's death activated her powers. It's rare but not unlikely" He informs his sons who are astounded. Y/N is a full blown psychic now, they have no idea what her powers would be like. And neither does she.

"Is it true? Is the Colt real?" John asks them. They both nod, "Yeah. F/N used a bullet to kill the vampire that was going to kill Y/N. It's in the car" Dean tell him. John nods, stepping forward to walk closer to Y/N who's still stood infront of her fathers burning corpse on the pyer. "Hey sweetheart." He says gently, Y/N turns around eyes wide. "John" She croaks, tears again begin to well up in her eyes.

She flicks the cigarette butt to the side, John wraps his arms around her shoulder, pulling her in to a hug. "I'm so sorry about your father, y/n/n" John says genuinely, his chin resting at the top of Y/N's head, allowing his tears flow as he takes in the burning pyer with his fallen friend. A man he trusted with his life, a man he raised his children with side by side when their wives were taken from them.

A man he was proud to call his best friend and hunting partner, dare say, his brother. Now reduced to ash. "It's my fault" She drops her head, now sobbing again. "It's not your fault, Princess" Dean walks closer to her. Y/N breaks the hug with John, "You can't convince me otherwise charming" She says dryly sniffling, handing John the bottle of Jack. Dean pulls her in for a hug, she doesn't shrug him off this time.

She wraps his arms around her shoulders as John walks back to Sam who's leaning on the Impala, tears in his eyes. "He died protecting me, Dean. If Luther had just killed me first he wouldn't be-" She rambles but Dean cuts her off. "If you finish that sentence I swear Y/N...." He clenches his jaw. She sighs, sobbing. "Blaming yourself will send you down a deep rabbit hole, princess. We're here for you. And we'll never leave you...I'll never leave you" Dean promises her sincerely, tucking a stand of her messed up hair behind her eyes.

"Please don't" She pleads sniffling, her heart aching. Deans heart pangs painfully at her tone, she sounded absolutely broken. "Your father died getting that Colt, we have it now. And we're gonna get the thing that killed our moms. In honor of F/N. It's what he would want and you know it. We're stronger as a family, together. We'll get the son of a bitch" Dean assured her softly.

She looks back at the pyre, the heat from the flames gushing over her face. "Hey..." Dean uses his pointer finger to turn her face back to look at him. "I pinky promise" He gives her a small smile, putting up his pinky finger. She chokes back a sob, chuckling weakly. She puts her pinky finger up. "Pinky promise" She croaks, smiling tearfully as she locks her pinky with his.

Sam and John, who are leaning against the Impala, hands in their pockets. They tearfully smile as they look on at the two locking their pinkies together. John takes a swig of the whiskey before handing it to Sam, who accepts, taking a swig also.

________________________________

Sam, Dean, Y/N and John are now in a motel.

Their motel room was swarming with all of the information of the supernatural John and F/N had collected over the years. Papers stapled and tapes to the wall, John sat at the table while Sam and Dean sat on the bed. Y/N by the window, smoking again. Her expression blank, staring out the window. She nurses a glass of whiskey as she takes a drag.

"Here's to F/N L/N, a damn amazing hunter, a kick ass player of pool and poker, a father, a man I'm proud to have called my best friend. He didn't die in vain, he will be avenged" John and the kids toast to the life of f/n. They look up to the sky, "This one's for you buddy" John says heartedly. Tears in all of their eyes as they throw their heads back, gulping down the last of the Jack, her father's favorite.

Y/N grimaced harshly from the burn of the brown liquid. "So, this is it. This is everything I know" John begins, gesturing to all the information he had stuck to the walls. "Look kids, our whole lives we've been searching for this demon, right? Not a trace, just nothing" He adds. "Until about a year ago. For the first time, I picked up a trail" He explains.

"That's when you took off, then f/n found you and you guys conspired" Dean says. John nods. "The demon must have come out of hiding or hibernation" John suggest. "So, what's this trail you found?" Dean asks him. "Starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after all of us" John explains.

"Families with infants?" Sam asks. "Yeah" John nods. "The night of the kids 6-month birthday" He adds, this catches y/n's attention. "We were six months old those nights?" Y/N asks him in a croaky tone, finally speaking up. "Exactly 6 months" John sighs nodding. "So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason" Sam says. "Same way it came for us" Y/N scoffs, flicking her cigarette out the window.

"So Moms death, Mrs. L/N....Jessica. It's all because of us?" Sam says in disbelief. "We don't know that, guys" Dean says. "Oh, really? Because I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean!" Y/N snaps, raising her voice that cracks from her sore throat. "For the last time, what happened to Mom and Jess is not your fault, Sam!" Dean stresses. "And what happened to your mom and dad, isn't yours either, y/n" Dean tries to assure her but she rolls her eyes.

Shaking her head, "Yeah you're right, it's not our fault but it's our problem!" Sam defends, raising his voice. "No it's not both your problems, it's our problem!" Dean raises his voice. "Okay. That's enough" John cuts into their argument, he stands up from his chair. They all subside the argument, sighing.

"So why is it doing it? What does it want?" Sam asks him as Dean moves to where John was sitting. "Look, I wish I had more answers. I do. We've always been step behind it" John says a bit frustrated. "Look, I've never gotten there in time to save..." He trails off, it's painful enough to talk about Mary and now F/N's death was so fresh.

Silence fell in the room, "So how do we find it before it hits again?" Dean asks quietly. "There are signs." John answers, turning to his elder son. "Look. It took us a while to see the pattern but in the days before these fires, signs crop up in an area" He begins to explain. "Cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms" John lists off.

Dean looks up in realization when his father lists off the signs. "And then, I went back and checks, and..." John trails off. "These things happened in right here Lawrence" Dean points out. John nods. "A week before your mother and m/n died" He confirms. The three young hunters share a look before John turns to Sam. "And in Palo Alto....before Jessica" John says lowly, Sam's eyes filling with tears.

"And these signs, they're starting again" He tells them. "Where?" Y/N asks John. "Salvation, Iowa" John responds.

________________________________

Salvation, Iowa

The Impala, Harley and Ford Ranger drove past the sign leading into Salvation, Iowa. Sam in the Impala, John in the Ford Ranger and Y/N with Dean on the Harley. He refused to leave her side, she said she was okay to ride but he still didn't want to leave her to ride alone. Y/N and Sam notice John swerve into a track on the side of the highway, they're confused but follow him in.

John jumps out of his Ranger frustrated, "Goddamn it! Son of a bitch!" John punches the van. "What is it?" Dean asks him confused and concerned as he and Y/N take off their helmets. "We just got a call from Caleb" John tells him as Sam jumps out of the Impala. "Is he okay?" Sam asks him concerned. "He's fine. Jim Murphy's dead" John informs them, his tone angry. "Pastor Jim?" Sam asks him in shock, tilting his head.

John nods. "How?" Y/N asks. "Throat was slashed. He bled out" John looks down, still in shock that he not only lost his best friend but another one of his longest friends. The three young hunters are grief stricken, "Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place." John adds. "A demon.." Dean says.

A look on his father face makes him raise his eyebrows. "THE demon?" Y/N asks shocked. "I don't know. Could be he just got- He just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close" John shakes his head in disbelief. "What do you wanna do?" Dean asks him firmly. "Now we act like every second counts" John responds.

"There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, and we cover more ground. I want records, I want a list of every infant that's gonna be 6 months old in the next week" John orders. "John, that's could be dozens of kids." Y/N exaggerates. "How the hell are we gonna know which ones the right one?" Sam questions his father in agreement to Y/N's point.

"We'll check them all, that's how" John answers firmly. "You two got any other idea?" John asks them in a hard tone. Sam and Y/N share a look, "No, sir" They respond in unison. They all turn to jump back on their vehicles, John stops and stares down for a second, Dean notices this. "Dad?" He calls out for his father in concern. "Yeah?" John responds turning back.

"It's F/N and now it's Jim" John says in a tearful tone. "You know..I can't" He looks up, tears welling in his eyes. "Yeah. Me neither" Y/N agrees in a croaky tone. John gives her a sympathetic look. "This ends now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes" John says firmly. Opening the door to the Impala, he jumps in.

Sam follows behind as Y/N and Dean hop back on Quinn. John starts the ignition, driving out. Y/N places her helmet on, Dean doing the same. He wraps his arms tightly around Y/N's waist. She dismounts her bike, the roar of her engine filling the quiet area. Riding out behind John.

Sam and Y/N are now at the Salvation Medical Center, looking over birth certificates after posing as officers. "Here you go, officers". A nurse approaches them, handing them another file of birth certificates. "Thank you" Sam thanks her. "You're welcome" The nurse smiles before walking off.

As Sam and Y/N walk out of the hospital to meet John and Dean. Their heads begin to pound, the familiar feeling of a building pressure in their heads. Flashes of a vision as they hold their foreheads in pain.

A lit lamp.

A dangling toy clown.

A woman in a white night gown and her baby, she's rocking her baby to sleep. A smile on her face.

She rests her baby down in her crib. Before giving her baby a kiss.

The sound of a train whistle blowing draws the mothers attention outside.

She walks downstairs to look out the window.

She then makes her way back up to her babys nursery, the sound of a music box playing.

When they open back their eyes, gasping from the pain. "Did you just.." Y/N asks him. Sam nods breathing heavily. "A train" Sam says. "Holy shit." Y/N gasps, she digs into Sam's bag and takes out a map. Shakily opening it, they both look for a train line on the map. "That's not too far from here" Sam points out. They share a look before following the map.

A couple blocks over, they run through a park. The pressure in their heads building up again. They hold their heads in pain, as a vision comes flashing again.

The woman opens her baby's nursery to see a strange hooded figure leaning over her baby's crib.

Sam and Y/N open their eyes again, walking a bit forwards. "You okay, Sammy?" Y/N asks him concerned. Sam seemed to be in more pain than her, "Yeah, I'm okay" He nods shakily. Her eyes flicker behind Sam, her mouth agape when she notices the house. "What is i-..." Sam asks her concerned, he turns around. His statement cutting short when he sees the house behind him.

The window identical to the one from the vision they both had. They look over to the sidewalk to see the same woman from their visions, walking with a umbrella over her head pushing a stroller. They share a look, "We gotta go talk to her" Sam says. "We can't just approach her Sam. It'll seem weird" Y/N says exasperated.

"We don't have a choice. Follow my lead" He grumbles. Y/N huffs, shaking her head. She obliged, following Sams leads. "Hi, here. Let me hold that. You look like you don't need that anymore" Sam says politely. Gently helping her hold the stroller. The woman smiles gratefully. "Hi. Thanks" She says sweetly. Closing her umbrella.

"She's beautiful. Is she yours?" Y/N asks her, smiling down at the baby. "Yeah" The woman responds smiling. "Oh wow. Hi" Sam waves at the baby smiling. "Oh. I'm sorry. We're rude. I'm Y/N and my fiancé Sam. We just moved in up the block" Y/N apologizes, putting her hand out to shake the woman's.

Sam raises his eyebrow at her lie but goes with it. "Oh hey, I'm Monica and this is Rosie" The woman politely introduces herself and her daughter. "Rosie? Hi Rosie" Y/N smiles, waving at the little baby. "So welcome to the neighborhood. It's good to have new couples in the neighborhood." Monica smiles. "Thank you" Sam says gratefully.

"She's such a good baby" Sam compliments Rosie. Monica smiles "I know. She- I mean, she never cries. She just stares at everybody. Sometimes she looks at you and I swear it's-" Monica chuckles. "It's like she's reading your mind" She says ironically. The two hunters share a look.

"What about you, Monica? Have you lived here long?" Y/N asks curiously. "Oh, my husband and I, we bought our place just before Rosie was born." Monica tells them, pointing to the house they saw in their vision. "And how old is Rosie?" Sam asks. "She's 6 months today" Monica says proudly.

Their faces drop, "She's big, right? Growing like a weed. I'm sure you guys can't wait to have your own" Monica says, she notices the sad look on Sam and Y/N's faces when she says this. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to assume-" Monica apologizes profusely, assuming Sam and Y/N are having trouble procreating. "No! It's fine, we just uh...we-" Sam says awkwardly, internally grimacing at the thought.

"Just take care of yourself, okay?" Y/N says sweetly. "Yeah. You too, guys. We'll see you around" Monica says politely, pushing her stroller towards her house. "Yeah, definitely" Sam says, looking down. They both move across the street to hear a car honk. "Oh, there's Daddy" Monica says in a baby voice to her daughter.

A red SUV pulls into their driveway and a tall man exits, giving Monica a kiss. The two look on but are cut off when the pain in their heads hit again, a vision flashing again.

The music box in the Rosie's nursery is playing, a clown with other ornaments hanging above the baby's crib.

The music suddenly stops and the toys begin to move. A figure approaches the crib as Monica walks in.

She gasps when she sees the strange man in her room. "What are you-" She yells but is thrown into the wall by a force.

Monica grunts and screams as she's slid up the wall and onto the ceiling. "Rosie!" She screams, crying on the ceiling above Rosie's crib.

A familiar wound appears in her stomach, blood dripping down down into her crib.

Monica then bursts into flames, screaming as she burns on the ceiling.

________________________________

After their visions returned, Sam and Y/N met back up in the motel room with John and Dean. Now explaining it, they're basically getting chewed out. "A vision?" John is in disbelief. "Yes" Sam and Y/N answer, sat by the table, groaning in pain as they rub their heads.

Dean and John were sat on the bed. "We saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling" Sam says. "Right. And you think it's gonna happen to this you guys met woman because...?" He asks them. "Because these things happen exactly the way we see them" Y/N responds. Dean gets up, walking over to the fridge. "Yeah, they started out as nightmares. Then they started happening when they were awake" Dean explains.

"Yeah. It's like— I don't know. It's like the closer we get to anything involving the demon....the stronger the vision gets" Sam says, the two younger hunters still holding their heads in pain as Dean pours them some coffee. "Alright, when were you gonna tell me about this?" John asks a bit angry. They all turn to him.

"We didn't know what it meant" Dean puts it simply. "Alright, something like this starts happening to your brother and y/n, you pick up the phone and you call me" John states firmly. Y/N's eye twitches angrily towards John at his tone while Sam shakes his head annoyed. Dean places the coffee next to Sam, handing Y/N hers. "Call you? Are you kidding me?" Dean scoffs in disbelief at the irony, walking closer to his father as the agitation builds.

"Dad, I called you from Lawrence. Alright? Sam called you and I called f/n when y/n was dying!" Dean exclaims angrily. "I mean, getting you on the phone. I got a better chance at winning the lottery" Dean further retaliates. John looks down in shame, nodding his head at the fact his son was right. "You're right" John admits.

They were all surprised when those words came out of his mouth. "Although, I'm not real crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry" John apologizes. "Look, guys, visions or now visions, the fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we all went through" Y/N chimes in, stating the fact of the matter.

"No, they're not. No one is, every again" John says determined. Sam phone rings, he answers it. Putting it to his ear. "Hello?" He answers. "Sam?" A familiar woman's voice chimes over the phone in an excited tone. "Who is this?" He cocks his eyebrows. "Think real hard. It'll come to you" She smirks over the phone. Realization dawns on him, shock taking over. "Meg" he says in recognition.

Dean and Y/N's ears perk up at that name. Their gazes snapping to Sam. He turns to Dean and Y/N as John gets up from the bed. "Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window" Sam states. "Yeah, thanks to your bitch of a friend. That really hurt my feelings, by the way" Meg responds snarkily. "Just your feelings? That was a seven story drop." Sam scoffs. "Let me speak to your dad" Meg demands

He looks over at John nervously. "My dad? I don't know where he is" Sam lies quickly. "It's time for the grownups to talk, Sam. Let me speak to him now" She further demands. John puts his hand out for Sam to give him the phone. He hesitantly does so, Dean and Y/N look on, not knowing what to say or do. "This is John" John presses the phone to his ear.

"Howdy, John. I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your boys and their bitch" Meg introduces herself. "I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood" She smirks. John heart drops, "Still there, John boy?" She says in a mocking tone. "I'm here" He answers gruffly. "Well, that was yesterday. Today, I'm in Lincoln....visiting another old friend of yours and f/n" She tells him, looking down at Caleb who's tied to a chair in a basement, gagged.

"He wants to say hi" She pulls the bandana she gagged him with off of his mouth, putting the phone to his mouth. "John, whatever they do, don't give-" He goes to warn John but she pulls the phone away, "Caleb?" John gasps. "Caleb. You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go" He demands. "We know you have the Colt, John" Meg says.

"I don't know what you're talking about" John denies. "Oh, okay. So listen to this" Meg smirks, wielding her knife, she slits Caleb's throat. John hears him gasping, gargling om his blood. "Caleb? Caleb?!" He calls out worried. "You hear that? That's the sound of your friend dying. Now let's try this again" Meg says menacingly, tears welling up in John's eyes.

"We know you have the gun, John. We know F/N found it and is dead. Word travels fast. So as far as we're concerned, f/n declared war and now you're in charge commander. This is what war looks like. It has casualties" She smirks. "I'm gonna kill you. You know that?" John growls angrily. Meg chuckles arrogantly. "Oh, John, please. Mind your blood pressure" She retorts dryly as John wipes his tears away.

"So this is the thing: We're gonna keep doing what we're doing. And your friends, anyone who's ever helped you and F/N, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved. They'll all die unless you give us that gun" Meg threatens. John doesn't answer, the three young hunters looking on in concern. "I'm waiting, Johnny. Better answer before the buzzer" Meg says mockingly. "Okay" He responds quietly.

"Sorry. I didn't quite get that" Meg smirks. "I said, okay. I'll bring you the Colt" He says firmly. The boys and Y/N looks at him in disbelief. Y/N specifically getting angry. "There's a warehouse in Lincoln on the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're gonna meet me there" She orders him. He looks over at the younger hunters, only to be met with Y/N's furious look.

"It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there." He tells Meg. "That's impossible. I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on a plane" John scoffs. "Oh, then I guess your friends die, don't they?" Meg says ironically. "If you do decide to make it, come alone" She orders, hanging up. John then takes the phone off his ear, turning back to them.

"Are you kidding me?!" Y/N yells at John pissed. "Calm down, I think she's a demon" John says calmly, this makes Y/N's eye twitch more. "You think she's a demon?" Sam asks, "Either that or she's possessed by one. Doesn't really matter. I'm going to Lincoln" John says firmly. "Oh you've gotta be fucking with me" Y/N scoffs, chuckling humorlessly. The boys look over at her worried, "Excuse me?" John says baffled.

"I don't have a choice, y/n. If I don't go, a lot of people are going to die. Our friends die!" John says defensively. "MY FATHER DIED GETTING THAT GUN! He laid in my hands bleeding and took his last damn breath! The demon is coming for Monica and her family tonight. That gun is all we got, you can't just hand it over!" Y/N grits her teeth, eyes wide in anger. Tears streaming down her face.

Sympathy etched on all of their faces at her out burst. "Who said anything about handing it over sweetheart?" John says calmly, her anger diminishing a bit. "Besides us and a couples of vampires, no one's really seen the gun. No one knows what it looks like" John states. "So what, you're just gonna pick up a ringer at a pawnshop?" Dean scoffs. "Antique store" John responds.

They look at him in disbelief. "You're gonna hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?" Dean asks. "Look, as long as it's close, she should be able to tell the difference" John states. "Yeah but for how long? What happens when she figures it out?" Y/N asks. "I just- I just need to buy a few hours, that's all" John reasons. "You mean for me, Dean and y/n" Sam says in realization.

John doesn't answer, "You want us to stay here...and kill this demon by ourselves?" Sam says as Dean and Y/N look between him and John. "No, Sam. I wanna stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean and Y/N to have a home" John croaks, turning away so they don't see him crying. "I want my best friend back.....I want Mary and m/n alive" He sobs lightly, putting his hand over his face.

Their hearts panged hearing John sob. He turns back to them, his face stained with tears. "I just- I just want this to be over" He sniffles. Sam, Dean and Y/N share a painful look.

________________________________

It's the middle of the day. Sam, John and Dean are parked below the train tracks, rummaging through Dean cars anything John could use against demons. Most items were found from F/N's truck. The engine of Y/N's bike roar draws their attention to behind them. She swerves it, putting it in park. She turns the ignition off, then taking off her helmet. She then swings her leg off her bike before mounting her bike.

"Did you get it?" John asks her as she walks towards them. She nods, taking the paper bag with a gun inside from out of the inside of her jacket. She hands it to John. "You know this is a trap, don't you?" Dean tells him father as he takes the gun out of the bag, it was almost identical to the Colt. "That's why Meg wants you to come alone" Dean further states.

"I can handle her. I got a whole arsenal loaded" John states smirking cockily. "Holy water, Mandaic amulets-" He lists off but Dean cuts him off. "Dad" John looks up. "What?" He asks. "Promise me something" Dean says. "What's that?" John questions. "This thing goes south, just get the hell out. Don't get yourself killed, alright. You're no good to us dead" Dean pleads.

John looks down nodding. "Same goes for you" He responds smiling a bit. "Alright, listen to me." He begins, pulling the Colt out from his pocket. "They made the bullets special for this Colt. There's only four of them left and without them, this gun is useless" John explains to them. "You make every shot count" He orders them. "Yes, sir" The three young hunters respond in unison firmly.

"I've been waiting a long time for this fight. Now it's here, I'm not gonna be in it. And neither is f/n. It's up to you kids now" John says sadly, y/n looks down painfully at the mention of her father. "It's your fight. You guys finish this. You finish what we started. You understand?" John says firmly. They all nod.

Dean still looking unsure about the whole thing. John then hands the Colt to his elder son. "We'll see you soon, John" Y/N says to him. He turns to her and smiles, "I'll see you kids later" He pats Y/N and Sam on their shoulders. Walking over to the van. He opens the door and jumps in. Starting the ignition, he drives off.

Sam, Dean and Y/N look on as he drives away. "Later" Dean finally says. His mind still telling him that John shouldn't have gone.

________________________________

John pulls into the location Meg gave him, taking off his headlights. He jumps out of the van, the gun in his hand that he was gonna pass off as the Colt. He picks it in his pant and pulls out the holy water and Mandaic amulets from his pocket. Gripping them, he sticks them back in. Now walking towards the warehouse.

Meanwhile. Back in Iowa. Sam, Dean and Y/N are outside of Monica's house in the Impala. Y/N having left her bike at the motel. "Maybe we could tell them there's a gas leak. Might get them out of the house for a few hours" Sam suggests. "Yeah, and how many times has that actually worked for us?" Y/N scoffs ironically. "Yeah" Sam sighs in agreement.

"Could always tell them the truth" Sam shrugs. The three of them look at each other in silence before bursting out laughing. "Nahhh" Dean and Y/N laugh. "No I know I know I Just-" Sam laughs. "With what's coming for these people..." Sam sighs. "Guys, we only got one move and you know it. We gotta wait for that demon to show itself and then...we get it before it gets them" Dean says firmly.

"I wonder how dad is doing" Sam thinks out loud. "I'd feel a lot better is we were there backing him up" Dean sighs. "I'd feel a lot better if he were here backing us up" Y/N chuckles humorlessly. The boys nod at her statement, now looking back at Monica on the window.

Back in Lincoln, Meg enters the warehouse while John creeps around the side. Climbing up a shaft. He opens a tank with water that connects to the warehouse pipes, he begins praying in Latin, holding up the Mandaic amulet. After finishing the incantation, he drops the Amulet in.

Back in Iowa, "This is weird" Y/N says as they stalk Monica's house. Dean turns to her, "What?" He asks her. "After all these years, we're finally here" She says. "It doesn't seem real" Sam adds in agreement. In the back of deans mind, he agrees but they've gotta stay strong. "We just gotta keep our head and do our job, like always" He says. "Yeah, but this isn't like always" Sam further states. Dean turns back to them before saying, "True" He sighs.

"Guys, uh....I wanna thank you two" Sam says genuinely. They look at him confused, "For what?" Dean asks. "For everything" Sam smiles tearfully. "You two have always had my back, you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyways, I could always count on either of you. And now..." Sam says sincerely, trailing on. "I don't know, I just wanted to let you guys know that. Just in case" He finishes.

Y/N's eyebrow raises at the last part while Dean scoffs. "Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Are you kidding me?" Dean scoffs. "What?" Sam asks confused. "Don't say 'Just in case something happens to you'. We don't wanna hear that fucking speech man" Y/N says annoyed. "Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family. Nobody!" Dean says in a hard tone.

"Except that demon. That evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight. You understand me?" Dean adds firmly, determination in his voice. Tension thick in the air. Sam and Y/N nod as they look back at the house.

Back in Lincoln. John appears behind Meg. She turns her head when she hears his footsteps. "John. You made it" She smiles darkly. "Too bad really. I was hoping to kill more of your friends" She smirks, her tone menacing. "Sorry to disappoint" John responds in a dry tone. "I can see where your boys get their good looks" Meg says in a flirtatious voice.

"Though I must admit, considering what they say about you, I thought you'd be taller." She mocks. John just stares at her, not answering. "Well, aren't you the chatty one" She says sarcastically. "Shame I never got to meet F/N, I'm sure he was just as yummy" Meg chuckles darkly hoping to take a bite at his grief, John narrows his eyes at her angrily. "You keep his name out of your filthy mouth" He growls angrily.

"There's the Winchester in you. You sound like Dean" She snaps back laughing. "You wanna get to business" She says, walking closer to him. "Fine. Why don't you hand over the gun" She puts her hand out for it. "If I give you the gun. How do I get out of here?" John says plainly. "Well if you're as good as they say you are, I'm sure you'll figure something out" Meh smirks. "Maybe I'll just shoot you" John says dryly.

"You wanna shoot me, baby? Go ahead, it won't end anything" Meg responds in a coy tone. "There's more where I came from." She says firmly. A man approaches from the dark behind her, "Who the hells that?" John asks. "He's not nearly as much fun as I am, I can tell you that. So I suggest you give us the gun" She smirks, demanding the Colt.

John smirks, looking at the man and back to Meg. "Now!" Meg demands, getting irritated she raises her voice. Putting her hand out. John hands her the gun, she examines it a bit and then turns back to John. "This is the Colt?" She cocks her eyebrow. John nods in confirmation. She hands it to her friend, "What do you think?" She asks him.

The man takes it, then looks back at John with a blank stare. He cocks it and in a swift motion. He aims it at Meg and shoots her. John begins to internally panic as she gasps in shock and pain. "You shot me!" She yells. "I can't believe you just shot me!" Meg further screams. "It's a fake!" The man yells before tossing the gun aside. Identifying it as a fake.

They glare at John who looks between the two of them nervously, both demons moving menacingly closer to him. "You're dead, John. Your boys and y/n are dead" Meg grits her teeth angrily. "I've never used the gun. How could I have known it wouldn't work" John lies fluidly. "I'm so not in the mood for this. I've just been shot!" Meg bellows.

"Well, then I guess you're lucky the hun wasn't real" John snaps back. Meg chuckles darkly, "That's funny, John. We're gonna strip the skin from your bones, but that was funny" She smirks, walking closer as John backs up. That's when steam starts hissing from the outside, drawing Megs attention away from John. He then makes a break for it, locking a door behind him.

He jumps down from the side he crept up to the warehouse, running down the hall. John then turns on a pipe that's attached to the tank he throw the amulet in. The water spraying, coating the floor as it runs down the drainage. Meg and the man look at each other while John has a smirk on his face. The man then steps onto the water, only for the water to burn through his shoes. He groans painfully, falling back toward Meg.

They look at John in shock. "Holy water, John. Real cute" Meg snarks. John's smile widens, strolling away from the two demons who're stuck.

________________________________

Back in Iowa, Dean tries calling his father. Huffing when he doesn't pick it, "Dads not answering" Dean huffs, flipping the phone shut. They look back at the window of Monica's house, "Maybe Meg was late. Maybe the cell receptions bad" Sam suggests. "Yeah, well..." Dean sighs, shaking his head.

The radio then begins to ring a static like noise, this makes Y/N's head snap towards it. "Fellas, wait..." She says, turning the radio up. They look curiously, "Listen" She whispers, raising it louder. The wind outside begins to accelerate as the radio booms a voice mutter, sounding almost like a man. The leaves outside blowing towards the house. The lights inside and outside of the house flickering.

They call share a terrified look, "It's coming" Sam gasps. They all immediately jump out of the Impala, running towards Monica's house.

Back in Lincoln. John finally reaches his van, stopping in his tracks when he sees the tires have been slashed. "Damn it!" He huffs. Checking his phone, only to have no cell reception. "You gotta be kidding me!" He groans in frustration, running out into the street.

Back in Iowa. Dean opens the door to Monica house after Y/N quickly picked the lock. The quietly enter as Dean closes the door behind him. They slowly walk in but then, "Get out of my house!!" Monica's husband screams, swinging a bat at Dean, who quickly dodges, making the bat swing against a lamp, smashing it into pieces.

Dean grabs the bat and slams the man into the wall. "No! Please! Please!" Sam and Y/N plead with him to listen. "Be quiet and listen to me. We're trying to help you" Dean tries to explain to the man, having him up against the wall with the bat to his neck. "Charlie?!" Monica calls out for her husband from upstairs.

"Okay?" Dean pleads as Charlie breathes heavily. "Everything okay down there?!" Monica asks from upstairs. "Monica, get the baby!" Charlie screams to warn Monica. "No!" Y/N yells. "Don't go in the nursery!" Sam screams. "You stay away from her!" Charlie screams trying to push Dean off but he punches him, knocking Charlie out instantly.

Sam and Y/N made a break for the stairs as Monica opens the nursery door to see a strange man leaning over Rosie's crib. "What are you—?" She gasps terrified, only to be slammed against the wall by a force and slid up the wall onto the ceiling. They run into the room, Y/N with the Colt in her hands.

"Rosie!" Monica screams tearfullly for her daughter. Sam and Y/N are now toe to toe with the demon who turns to them, glowing his yellow eyes. They're terrified but Y/N raises the Colt and shoots instantly, only to miss because the demon had disappeared in a ball of smoke. Monica screams when she falls from the wall infront of Sam and Y/N.

"Where the hell did he go?!" Sam yells shocked. "My baby!" Monica screams, "No, hey. Wait!" Sam and Y/N try to stop her from going over to Rosie's crib. "No!! My baby!!" Monica's cries. Dean emerges through the door, "Get her out of here. I got it. Take her and go!" Dean orders them loudly. They drag Monica out of the room as Dean wraps Rosie up.

After taking her out of the crib and running back downstairs, the crib almost immediately bursts into flames. "Deans got her!" Y/N assures her.

Meanwhile, back in Lincoln. John runs around the side of the building to get some cell reception. He pulls out his phone and begins dialing. Only to be thrown into the wall by a sudden force. "Aah!!" He grunts in pain, groaning from the force crushing him. The man from earlier with Meg, emerges from the dark as the force drags him up the wall. John grunts in pain as the man walks closer to him. A dark smirk on his face.

Back in Iowa. They all run downstairs, Dean with Rosie in his hands. The house in flames. All coughing from the smoke. "You get away from my family!" Charlie, who was outside, yelled at the three hunters, going to attack them.

"No, Charlie, don't. They saved us!" Monica stops him from attacking. "I mean, they saved us" She chokes a sob, putting out her hands so Dean could hand her Rosie. She takes her baby crying, going over to her husband. "Thank you" She thanks them tearfully. They look on at the house, Y/N's eyes widen when the the figure of a man appears in the nursery window that's in flames.

"It's still in there" She growls, ready to run back in but Sam and Dean stop her, holding her back. "Y/N. Y/N! No!" Sam yells as they hold her back to push her towards the Impala. "Sam! Dean! Let me go, it's still in there!!!" She screams, trying to break out of their holds. "Its burning to the ground! It's suicide!!" Dean shouts. "I don't care!" She screams.

"Well I do!" He bellows, her heart dropping. Y/N calms down a bit as Sam and Dean turn back to the house. Their eyes landing in the shadow of the man, it then disappears in the fire. Y/N clenches her jaw angrily as they look on at the house engulfed in flames, burning to the ground.

________________________________

Now back at their motel room, Dean is trying to get a hold onto John. "Come on, Dad. Answer your phone, damn it!" Dean grumbles exasperated as Sam sits on the bed fuming, his head buried in his hands while Y/N sits on the window still, her face blank as she stares out the window. Her jaw clenching. Dean hangs up the phone after not getting onto John.

"Something's wrong" He says to Sam and Y/N. Sam nor Y/N answer, he looks up from his phone turns to them. "You two hear me? Something's happened" Dean states again. "If you had just let me go in there...I could have ended all this" Y/N's tone is low, shaking her head is frustration as she takes a drag from her cigarette.

Dean moves closer to her, his face contorted with disbelief just like Sam's. "Y/N, the only thing you were gonna end was your life" Sam scoffs. Y/N's gaze snaps to him, "You don't know that" She says firmly, blowing out the smoke. "So, what, you're just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?" Dean says irritated.

Her eyes wide with determination, she gets up from the window still, walking up to Dean. "Yeah. Yeah. You're damn right I am" She says firmly. Dean is stunned by this, "Yeah well that's not gonna happen. Not as long as we're around" Sam responds in the same tone. "What the hell are you two talking about? We've been searching for this demon our whole lives! It's the only thing we've ever cared about!" She argues, pacing the room.

"Y/N, I wanna waste it. I do. Okay? But it's not worth dying over!" Dean further argues. "What?" She says in disbelief looking over at Sam. "I mean it. If hunting this demon means you getting yourself killed, then I hope we never find the damn thing!" He adds angrily, his heart pumping out of his chest.

"That thing killed Sam's girlfriend. It killed my mom and yours. It's the reason my dad is dead!" Y/N defends. "Y/N....please" Sam says softly, pleading with her. "We'll get it" He assures her, tears in his eyes. She huffs, taking a drag of her cigarette. "Look, Sam said once and you agreed. That no matter what we do, they're gone. And they're never coming back" Dean tries to reason with her.

Her eyes widen with anger, a laugh rolling out of her tongue. She chuckles humorlessly, strolling back over to the window as the boys look at her in confusion. She takes a drag of her cigarette again before crushing it in the ashtray. She turns back to Dean, her shoulder shaking as she laughs, tears still in her eyes. A look on her face that they've never seen before and to be quite frank, it scared them.

"You son of a bitch" She chuckles dryly. Her face then contorting into anger before swiftly grabbing him by his collar and slamming him into the wall roughly. "You don't say that! Not you!" She growls enraged. Sam shoots up from the bed but Dean puts his hand up, stopping him. Indicting he's fine. "Not after all this. Don't you say that!" She breathes heavily, her entire body shaking from the rage and grief.

"Princess, look...I am so sorry about your father. I really am" Dean says sincerely, his tone breaking, still up against the wall. Tears well up in y/n's eyes again. "But the four of us....that's all we have" Dean voice wavers. "That's all I have" He adds, tears welling up in his eyes also as Y/N grips his collar tightly, shaking her head angrily.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together, babe" He admits tearfully. This makes her feel terribly guilty. She huffs, tears falling down her cheeks. Her heart aching as she shakes her head. Her grip loosens on his collar. "Without you, Sam or Dad. I..." Dean stops when she fixes his collar back, patting his chest, "Fuck. I'm so selfish" She wipes her tears, walks back to grab her phone.

"John...he should've called by now. Try him again" She sniffles, trying to calm herself down. She hands Dean her phone, he takes it and dials Johns number. Y/N sinks in the bed next to Sam as Dean puts the phone to his ear, "You kids really screwed up this time" Meg answers smirking. Deans face drops, looking over to Sam and Y/N.

Y/N sat on the bed next to Sam, her head bowed as he rubs her back comfortingly. "Where is he?" Dean clenches his jaw. His tone makes Sam hand holt from rubbing Y/N's back, the two younger hunters looking up at him in concern. "You're never gonna see your father again..." Meg says menacingly. Both Sam and Y/N's face and heart drop when they see Deans fearful expression.

To Be Continued...

________________________________

Author's Note: AHHHHHHHH!! One more episode and we're ready for Season 2 babbbyyyyy. I must say, I am kind of sad that this season has almost come to an end but I'm also excited to roll into another chapter of this series. I can't believe I actually made it through, I swore I was going to lose motivation but the wonderful comment and love I've been receiving means the world to me🥹I appreciate every bit of love and I send it back to you time a million!!❤️Just a reminder, this chapter is unedited.

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor

Xoxo

[stuckymonkey]

Kinktober Day 3: Bondage

Bucky Barnes

word count - ~1k

a/n - this work was inspired by a photo by @/fakesngays on Twitter:

Anyways-

Since coming out of the ice, obviously things were different. What Bucky hadn't expected however was the way people were so open about sexuality and pleasure. After coming out of hiding, Bucky had a lot of time on his hands, most of which he spent learning about the new world, space, media and conspiracy.

Eventually, kinks got added into the mix of topics to be researched.

You and Bucky had been dating for over a year and your sex life was far from vanilla. Bucky found pleasure in both dominating you and submissing to you. You prided yourselves on your level of communication and ability to share desires and fantasies with eachother.

So when Bucky came to you one night and asked you to tie him up, you were more than willing. With some help from outside sources (cough cough, Tony) you were able to have some special handcuffs made so Bucky would genuinely be restrained.

The vibranium handcuffs and kevlar ropes surprised him when he came home that night. He was eager to strip just like you'd asked him, and he willingly stood still while to secured the bonds, having each limb restrained. He tugged at the bonds, testing their strength.

When he found them indeed much stronger than he had originally thought, he was both aroused and nervous at the level of power you now had over him.

Don't get him wrong, he trusted you body, mind and soul. He was yours entirely. But he knew you loved to tease.

"Ready?" You purred, crawling to him. Your seductive moves excited him, his cock stirring to attention. "Yes ma'am." He rasped.

"Good. I think you're going to like this."

What felt like hours later, Bucky was a sweaty, moaning mess. You had edged him at least a dozen times, letting him beg and whine for release. "It's okay baby, be my good boy, I know you can take it love." And he did. He took everything you gave him, over and over and over.

His head hung, watching as you kissed and licked up his thighs. You took your sweet time, making sure every inch of skin had been kissed and nipped. He groaned at the sight. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, blinking slowly. A strangled moan escaped him, you knew all of his weaknesses and you were determined to break him.

Finally, you reached his inner thighs. just by his crotch. "Come on y/n, baby, please." You licked around his length, beside his heavy ball sack and up his abdomen, kissing and biting at the tender skin of his hips.

He tried squirming, aiming his length at your mouth. You slapped his dick away, earning a sharp hiss from James. You pulled back to look at your pretty baby.

He stood tall, yet so defeated, legs and arms spread wide for you. His purple cock head was leaking trails of precum that pooled on the sheets. Hickeys covered his chest, abdomen and inner thighs. The dark purple on his tan skin aroused you, knowing he was yours. You owned him, and he owned you too.

You slowly leaned forward and blew cold air over his cock, making it twitch. Bucky pulled at the ropes. "Please! Please, let me out," He sobbed, tired of the teasing and edging.

You ignored his pleas, taking his member in your mouth instead. Your tongue circled his cock, tracing the vein and flicking over his frenulum. He bucked his hips into your face, making you gag softly. You slapped his thigh harshly.

He let out a low cry and thrust his hips once more, earning a harsher slap over his already red leg.

You took his cock back in your mouth, this time just holding it there, not moving a muscle. "Y/n, this isn't fair, please, please, I need you," You just stared at him, unmoving, enjoying his displeasure.

After a few minutes of Bucky taking deep breaths and trying to be good, you took his length all the way down your throat until your nose settled in the curly thatch of hair at the base of his cock. "Yes, Yes! Please! Oh, God."

You started moving your head slowly, and Bucky knew better to test you now. Although he didn't move his hips, his limbs fought against the restraints. He tugged and writhed, core lit on fire from the way you were taking his cock down your throat.

He whined and begged, trying to be patient as you took him apart. Slowly, you pulled off his cock, letting a string of spit connect you to it before going down to his balls. You took one in your mouth at a time, swirling your tongue and relishing in the texture of them. Bucky keened and whimpered as you sucked and licked. They were firm and heavy in your mouth, ready to cum.

You pulled off after making sure each side of the sack got equal treatment. Leaning back on you heels, you took in the sight of Bucky for the last time. His chest heaved and drool was escaping the corners of his mouth. beads of sweat coated his forehead and abdomen. His eyes never left yours, ready to obey despite being restrained.

teasingly, you stroked a finger from his toes to his metal shoulder. You kissed his lips tenderly, pulling away to see him try and chase your lips. He tilted his head, trying to regain your lips. You gave in, kissing him while untying his bonds. He gasped into the kiss. As soon as his arms were free, they came to your cheeks, holding you as if he wasn't sure whether to believe what was happening or not.

His legs were next, and once they were freed he collapsed onto the bed. Quickly, Bucky rolled over and pinned you under him. "Missed you so much," he whispered, tucking his face in your neck. "You did so good baby," He moaned softly, letting you grasp his cock and line it up to your entrance.

He gasped, feeling overwhelmed at finally being sheathed in your wet cunt. "Y/n!" His hips started moving immediately, not giving you any time to adjust. "Fuck!" His hips were unforgiving as he pounded into you, his thighs hitting yours with each thrust. It didn't take long for his cock to start brushing up against your g-spot, making you cry out and see stars.

The roles had been switched since Bucky got free, as he now started dominating you and guiding you through your pleasure. He used your body for his own pleasure, gripping your hips in a bruising grip.

After a few short thrusts he came with a loud cry, never ceasing the snapping of his hips. Bucky's hand threaded through your hair, pulling harshly and forcing you to meet his eyes. "Come on baby, you gotta cum for me," He said, "You just gotta cum and then we can rest, okay? Cum for me sweets," He continued to thrust, removing his hand from your hair to twist your nipples. You gasped at the touch.

"B-Bucky," "I'm right here," You pushed his mouth over one of your awaiting tits before crying out as you came around him. "Bucky!!"

"Fuck, so sweet doll, coating me so nice," His hips slowly came to a halt. After pulling his length out of your sopping hole he helped to clean the both of you up.

Aftercare that night was spent cuddling and watching movies in the hands of your love.

I hope you guys liked this!! I don't have a taglist but feel free to turn on notifications! All interactions/likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated!!

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

◈ Pairing: Zhongli x fem!Reader ◈ Summary: You've just gotten out of an exhausting relationship with your boyfriend of ten years. Your boss, who you've only brushed shoulders with a few times in the six years you've worked at the company, suddenly makes you an offer that you can't turn down. ◈ Contains: NSFW, Angst, Boss/Employee Relationship, Power Imbalance, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Emotional Manipulation

Already, this was more care and consideration than you've ever received in the past after having sex. Zhongli and you were technically just office acquaintances, albeit him being hellbent on changing your casual dynamic.

“Good morning Mister Zhongli.” You gave him an appreciative smile as you set his usual osmanthus tea in front of him along with a few binders.

Zhongli glanced up at you with a smile, his eyes softening. “Good morning, dear. How are you feeling this morning?” He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

A blush colored your cheeks at his reminder.

“A little sore still, but I'm fine.”

Zhongli raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on it. “I trust you had a good night’s rest?” He asked, handing you a binder.

You nodded, a sincere smile on your lips.

“I haven’t slept that well in a while. So... thank you.”

Zhongli returned your smile, his eyes warm. “I'm glad to hear that, dear. It’s the least I could do for keeping you up late.” He said lightly before taking another sip of his tea.

The flush on your cheeks deepened at his words.

“Also, thank you for bringing my clothes.”

You didn't find out until days later that it was Keqing who insisted his driver take a whole chunk of your closet with him, insinuating that you were going to be spending a lot of nights at Zhongli's place and that she was completely fine with it.

“There’s another meeting with Mister Kamisato later today to sign the contract. I’ve also gone ahead and booked a private room at an upscale club this evening to celebrate the collaboration. The dinner will be served there as well.”

Zhongli gave you an appreciative smile, his eyes landing on a faint mark peeking out from behind your blouse's collar.

“I’ll be outside if there’s anything else you need from me.”

“Please stay for a moment longer.” Zhongli said, getting up from his chair. “I wanted to discuss something else with you.”

Zhongli made his way around the desk, stopping when he was standing right in front of you. You inevitably caught a whiff of his cologne because of how close he was. He reached out to fix your lopsided collar so that it hid the mark he left on your neck a little better.

“What do you need to discuss with me?”

Zhongli's gaze rose to your eyes. “I will be paying someone a visit in Mondstadt in a couple weeks. Would you like to accompany me on a business trip?” He asked softly, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

“A business trip?” Your eyes widened.

If it were a business trip like he said, then it was your job to go with him and handle all the petty little preparations and paperwork involved like booking flights, renting cars, and hiring temporary personnel.

“Of course. You’re my boss. Wherever you go, I go."

Zhongli smiled at your response. “Good. I think it'll be a memorable experience for you.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his own and pulling you close. Maybe the spell he had cast on you last night hadn't worn off yet. Before you could snap out of it, he had his hand against your face and was leaning in to kiss you.

You quickly turned your head and avoided the kiss, slipping out of his grasp.

“Not at work.” You took your boss's hand, leading him to his chair and gently pushed him back into it. “I don’t want to be a distraction to you."

Zhongli stared at you in muted surprise, his lips parted.

"I’ll be outside if you need me.” You added before scurrying off.

Zhongli watched you go, feeling dazed and slightly disappointed by your rejection. You were right though. He shouldn’t act on his desires while the two of you were at work. He took a deep breath and turned back to his screen, trying to push the tantalizing thoughts out of his head. This was the first time he tried to kiss you at work since you had become his assistant. Maybe he was also still affected by last night. He had never meant to force you into anything, but his desire for you had gotten the better of him.

Your heart finally calmed down a bit and so did the slight pinkness on your cheeks. Your boss was a very attractive man. You were shamelessly aware of that. It's expected that after last night, things would change between the two of you. You were still much too sensitive to his every touch and glance, shivering if he so much as brushed a hand against yours. You were like a pile of dried timbers. A tiny spark could set you ablaze.

[occasionallyprosie]

A Thousand Ways

Chapter 1: "Sometimes you shouldn't just keep your head down"

Event Masterlist | Next>>

On a night in Legend's era, safe within the boundaries of an unnamed town, the veteran finds himself unstable but unable to sleep. He intended to just sleep off the concussion at best, or take a potion the next morning when they restocked on them at worse. He probably shouldn't have gone outside where he was easily seen while not at his best and without basically any of his items.

Febuwhump 2024 | Prompt 1: Helpless

Read on AO3

Warnings: torture

Legend had decided back on his first quest that he hated concussions. Over ten years later and on his... variably numbered quest (it could be the seventh if he combined the Oracles into a single one, it could be the sixth if he ignored Koholint too, or it could be the ninth if he individualized and counted every single vaguely adventure-like thing that happened), he still hated concussions.

Nonetheless, he powered through. It was a mild one anyways, he would be fine by morning probably, and if he wasn't then he'd buy an extra potion to drink.

They just arrived at a town in Legend's own era and kingdom, it was late and they had already decided to get supplies the next day after a good night's sleep in the inn. Legend didn't go to sleep though, despite the rather mild--he wasn't even nauseous really--concussion, he slipped out of the inn and found himself sitting out on a bench outside, watching the innkeepers wife's--Leanne's, he had visited the town before-- garden of flowers sway in the wind.

"Hey," someone sneered, "what's a brat like you doing out this late?"

He was literally an adult, but before he raised his head he saw armored boots.

A knight.

"Just getting some fresh air," he said, keeping his head down. "I don’t mean to bother."

Please don’t--

The boot swung up and he had plenty of time to dodge it, except he was trying not to be recognized so he took it. The steel boot hit his forehead and he let himself gasp, dropping his head lower.

"Look at me when I speak to you, brat!" They spat.

Legend grit his teeth, not responding in favor of keeping his head down. Maybe he should've dodged and just ran, that kick made his concussion much, much worse if only briefly. He couldn't think and suddenly, that nausea that hadn't been so bad, was very bad.

Instincts kicked in when the guard went in for another kick. Legend avoided it and quickly stood.

"You'll learn some resp--" the guard visibly recognized him when Legend met his eyes, forcing back the dizziness.

"You could've just walked away," Legend said coldly. "You just had to pick a fight with someone who you thought was a kid."

"You! Criminal!"

The outraged cry drew the attention of a nearby patrol of guards. Legend cursed, especially the fact that he'd left most of his items inside the inn. Four guards converged toward him, yelling and waking up the townsfolk while Legend bolted.

He didn't want nor should kill them, they needed a reality check sure, but death wasn't the answer here and he only had his medallions as an offense. No regular person would survive them, so instead Legend just ran.

To everyone's surprise, when he swerved into an alleyway unhindered, a patrol of guards were on the other side and startled when the patrol chasing him roared behind him. They quickly blocked off his escape, and with his head spinning, stomach lurching, and eyes refusing to focus--

A shield was slammed into his face and he was out cold.

Legend woke up in a painful daze, his whole body was sore, arms especially so, wrists in genuine pain and not just sore. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, yet simultaneously it felt empty with how his brain seemed to rattle in his skull. His magic was practically gone--

His magic was gone. He didn't feel the familiar weight of his medallions and pendants. He wasn't even wearing all his clothes! His red mail was gone, and his boots, leaving him just in his dark green under-tunic. His cap was gone as well and his hair was loose.

After assessing his own condition, Legend drew in enough focus despite the physical pain and magical exhaustion, and he tried to determine his situation.

He was in a cell, water audibly dripping down from the ceiling and down the walls. The ground was damp if anything. Stone lined the walls and floor, mortar on the walls but dirt in the floor. He was chained to the wall opposite of the (probably) iron cell door, the cuffs around his wrists had runes etched into it... the source of his magical exhaustion no doubt.

Metal clinked as he tugged the cuffs around his wrists, he didn't have a single inch of give, being cuffed directly to the wall itself. His magic was cut off, and his head spinning and throbbing and requiring far too much concentration to focus, Legend took far too long to come to a conclusion about his situation.

He had been captured, by knights no less, and he was completely trapped. He had no items, he'd never had the strength to even escape, and his magic had been drained before he could even try the... two things he'd been able to do in extremely extenuating circumstances to escape.

The cell door slammed open, Legend glared daggers at the knight who entered.

"Link, seems we finally caught you," they said, scowling and approaching him.

"I wa'--I was par-pardoned years ago," Legend snapped, his words attempting to slur, leading him to repeat himself clearly. "You have-- You have... no grounds for this arrest."

The knight drew closer. "Just because you tricked the queen doesn't mean you’re innocent. You'll pay for kidnapping her, and for the murder of dozens of good soldiers, especially Sergeant Alphon."

He snapped. He swung his leg up and nailed them in the face. Despite the height they had on him, his legs were just long enough and he was flexible enough to kick them.

"Get his name out of your mouth you bastard!" Legend fought against his chains, ignoring the pain and fuzziness. How dare this knight try and use his uncle against him?! How dare he?!

"Oh, you'll pay for that."

The knight punched his face, the back of his skull slammed against the iron panel behind him, a loud clang echoing through the room simultaneously followed by a hissed curse. His skull reverberated, pain exploding and seizing. A stabbing pain tore through his mind.

A second punch to his lower ribs had his legs giving out and his stomach to empty itself on the ground.

"Not so high and mighty now," the knight sneered. "You'll die in this cell, hero. Nice and slow, another day, another hour, another pain for all the men you killed."

Legend inhaled shakily, lips wet as he raised his head to glare.

"Do your worst," he growled. "I've survived worse."

He survived death itself, and returned with new items, new artifacts, new memories. He survived Ganon four times over, a lightning strike to the head, the near-death of his ancestor borderline erasing him from history.

Even if Legend did die here, it was the first... second time he could trust that someone else would finish the job. The other heroes would finish this quest and he didn't need to worry. He could die without regrets.

Turns out, dying slowly with a glimmer of hope to escape is far worse than being struck by lightning and drowning in a storm on the ocean.

The other heroes should've been able to find him, he'd gone with Twilight, or Wolfie, to track down the Traveler and Champion dozens of times, never through towns though. Yet they hadn't and Legend had determined not to rely on anyone, even the other heroes.

Though... it was hard not to cling to the hope of hearing blades clashing, or even just the creak of the door as one of them sneaks in. Not as his body refused to do the most simple of things, not while he could barely lift his head, not while he felt the cuffs that drained his magic very slowly chip away at his soul, eliminating any replenishment of his magic before it even formed. It was hard not to cling to any glimmer of hope of someone else saving him for once when his skin was torn, cut open, and his blood soaked the floors more than the water that dripped from above did. He told himself that he had to save himself, just like every other time he'd been pushed to the brink. He had a job to do and even if the other heroes could do it themselves, it was still his job to at least help. Yet as he hung from bleeding wrists, legs not strong enough to support him, he knew that even if he wasn't chained up, even if the cell door was wide open, he wasn't going to be able to walk out.

When the knights returned, jeering and joking with one another with the familiarity of brothers, Link drew in another breath.

He wasn't escaping. He survived death once, thanks to an ocean deity, but he was certain that he wasn't going to escape its hold a second time. Not as the knights pulled out something new--every day, it had been something new, or maybe every hour, he wasn't sure how long it had been--and discussed who got to use it first.

It was a flail, a handle of leather likely around wood but maybe steel, and multiple long ropes of frayed leather.

Link--Legend(they were still there, he wasn't alone again, the quest was still ongoing even if he died here) didn't have the energy to cry out as the cat o' nine tails was whipped across his face, tearing his lip, the bridge of his nose, his brow and cheek, his eyes sealed shut from the pain. He did flinch, he did whimper and gasp, but nothing more.

He didn't have the strength for more. Frayed leather struck across his chest, catching his collarbone and cutting a scabbed wound open. His throat was raw, had been for a while now with stomach acid burning the irritation of his screams. Even as he tried to scream, nothing more than a wheeze fell from bloodied lips.

He hoped they wouldn't be too upset with him leaving them to finish the fight. He almost wanted to laugh, it was a bit ironic... Of course he, the helpless bunny, would be killed in captivity. He, the veteran, would die on an adventure. He, the collector, would be left item-less at the end, after all you can't take anything to the afterlife.

It was ironic, because the adventuring veteran who collected items from across four countries, three worlds, and had killed Ganon four times... was still just a helpless bunny who couldn't defend himself when it mattered.

Soon enough, as his vision faded out, Legend fell.

Though with his magical stores empty and his soul having just been drained... he didn't even notice that his fall had been in the physical sense. Cuffs didn't matter when the goddess herself took matters into her own hands to displace her hero through time.

Next>>

[avacoleman]

when the lights go out || a firstprince fic

summary: Henry Fox’s career is in crisis and his dating life isn’t faring much better either.  After a chance encounter with a charming man becomes memorable for all the wrong reasons, Henry throws himself into his next assignment: writing the memoir of a beloved C-list actor. Henry, however, knows Alex best for the role he played as his random, awkward one-night stand. Henry enters their professional partnership keen on keeping their relationship just that. But after Henry confesses that their hookup was less than spectacular, Alex concots an arrangement that Henry is unable to resist. In addition to ghostwriting Alex’s life story, Henry will teach him a thing or two about satisfying a man.  As they spend months out on the road together, they must decide if the connection between them is yet another story worth telling.

chapter 4/8 || rated e || read on ao3 *updates every tues. and fri. *

Denver, CO Rocky Mountain Expo Henry thanks the powers that be for allowing Pez to crash the tour for the next two days. And by that, he means he cannot thank Alex enough for arranging for Pez to join them at Rocky Mountain Expo in Denver. He figures it might’ve been him mentioning one too many times how much of a Crescent Valley fan Pez was that Alex perhaps took pity and worked some magic behind the scenes to get him to fly out. Whatever it is, Henry is immensely grateful. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed Pez’s presence. Certainly they’d kept up well with FaceTimes and texts over the last few weeks, but there’s nothing quite like genuine face to face connection with a person– especially when that someone is none other than Percy Okonjo. At his side now, Henry watches Pez drink it all in. The convention center, like every other stop so far, is brimming with people from all sorts of fandoms. It’s chaotic and exciting, all baselines for a guy like Pez.  Alex had left from their hotel earlier than Henry so that he could attend the scheduled fan breakfast and Henry could be available to get Pez sorted. It’s such a small thing, but it was almost as strange being apart from Alex this morning as it has been to be away from Pez these past couple of weeks. Henry hadn't realized just how dependent he’d grown on Alex’s company.

Henry’s phone buzzes in his pocket as he and Pez visit different vendors in Artist Alley where creatives sell their custom made pieces. He takes a look at the screen and sees a text from Alex.

Alex everything going well with you and pez?

Henry smiles and notes the time. There’s still thirty minutes before Alex’s panel and having the experience firsthand, he can just imagine Alex behind the scenes, keeping busy to work out his excited energy.

Henry Indeed. Would it be alright if I brought him round to meet you now? Or would after be better?

Alex now pls!

“We’re being summoned,” Henry says, pocketing his phone again. 

Pez doesn’t need any more prompting and Henry leads them through the crowds to get to the hall Alex’s panel is being held. He’s surprised but pleased to find Alex already waiting for them by a private set of doors. Henry’s heart does a funny little swoop seeing Alex standing there, greeting them with a smile.

“Alex. I wanted you to meet Pez.”

Alex beams his thousand-watt smile at Pez.

“I feel like I already know you. Henry talks about you all the time. Nothing but good things, I promise,” he says.

Pez looks more and more like the Cheshire Cat as his smile overtakes his face.

“Alex Claremont-Diaz, as I live and breathe,” Pez says in a scarily good Southern debutante accent.

“You’ll have to forgive Pez. He has consumed far too much American media from the time he was a small, impressionable child. I fear the damage cannot be undone.”

Alex laughs. “It’s paid off pretty well. That sounded authentic as hell. You could give me a run for my money.”

Pez, unshakable formidable Pez, actually giggles at the compliment.

“You’re a charmer. Go on now. Keep saying more nice things. I won’t object.”

Henry watches them go, riffing off each other as if they’ve known each other forever. It feels like Henry has entered into an alternate universe of some kind, watching his worlds collide.

“I’m sure you guys must’ve made plans, but if you’re interested, I’d love to take y’all out for dinner tonight,” Alex says.

Pez’s eyes light up. “I’m sure we could shuffle a few things around,” he says, looking at Henry for confirmation. He nods and Pez smiles.

“We’d be delighted. Dinner sounds positively lovely. Thank you,” Pez continues.

Henry turns to Alex. “We could all meet back in the hotel lobby at quarter to 7 perhaps?”

Alex nods. “Yeah, that’d be great. Things should be pretty hectic at the expo today. I’ll look into making reservations nearby afterwards."

Voices carry a bit louder from inside the hall.

"I should probably get back," Alex says. "But have fun you guys and enjoy the panel. Pez, it was really nice meeting you. I will absolutely be expecting a truckload of embarrassing stories and any overall dirt you might have on Henry, so start brainstorming now,” he says with a wink.

 Henry already rues turning them into co-conspirators.

Pez smiles and wiggles his fingers at Alex before he leaves them to head to the greenroom. The moment Alex rounds the corner, Pez does an unseemly victory dance right there in the corridor.

“How can you possibly stand being around him all day every day without wanting to jump his bones? He’s even more attractive in person. That’s just unnatural. Dare I say, it’s supernatural.”

Henry touches his hand to his forehead.

“Come on. Let’s go grab our seats. They’ll be starting shortly.”

~*~*~

The secret of his true dynamic with Alex haunts Henry like a tell-tale heart. Each time Pez mentioned Alex’s name after the panel and now back here in their hotel room, Henry feels as if he could choke on the secret.

“I’ve hit rock bottom,” he says, apropos of nothing as he and Pez watch an episode of Crescent Valley on his laptop in bed.

“Welcome! There’s plenty of room down here,” Pez says, yanking Henry to rest his head in his lap. “Come now, tell Auntie Pezza what ails you, my darling.”

Henry sighs and hits the spacebar, freezing the show. It’s a small mercy that it isn’t a scene with Alex. He’s not so sure he’d be able to get through this conversation with Alex’s face right there in front of them.

“I think I’ve made a mistake.”

Pez’s fingers scratch lightly against Henry’s scalp.

“My dear Henry, you’re a writer. I need you to put your fancy degree to good use and elaborate for me, love.”

Henry looks away, unable to maintain eye contact for what he’s about to say.

“Part of me is falling for someone that I shouldn’t. Maybe ‘falling for’ is a bit too much. I need more time to parse it, but I feel…different sometimes.”

Pez’s hand stops combing through his hair.

“Hang on now. You haven’t met anyone new recently that I know of. I mean, there’s that secret midnight hookup back in New York and of course, scrumptious Alex. The latter would be bonkers, but it can’t be the former. You never got his info.”

Henry bites back on his lower lip. Pez is so close to the mark.

“That’s not exactly true. I sort of…ran into him the next day.”

“Have you any Advil here? I swear you’re giving me a headache talking in riddles like this. You had lunch with Alex the next day and then came straight home, no?”

Pez’s eyes grow wide, realization sinking in. Henry sits up and not a moment too soon as Pez’s hands fly to his mouth and he muffles a scream.

“No! Oh, my god, wait. No. There’s just no way! You don’t mean to say…Alex is Javier?”

Henry looks down at his hands, suddenly very fascinated with them.

“Well, now, that just shattered all my illusions. Pity he wasn’t good in bed. As fit as he is…hmm.”

“He wasn’t good that first night, no. But since then…”

“Since then! ” Pez shrieks, completely scandalized. “Grab the smelling salts! Get me a lounge chair! I’m going to pass out, I swear it. This is simply too much for me to take,” he says, putting a hand over his heart.

Pez shakes his head almost cartoonishly.

“Do you mean to tell me you two have been shagging this whole time?”

“Not the whole time,” Henry says reflexively. “Look, Pez, you cannot say a word to anyone, do you understand?”

Pez’s face grows serious, all his theatrics subsiding at the drop of a hat. 

“I give you my word. You know that. I wouldn’t tell a soul.”

Henry nods. “No, I know. I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing anxiously at his temple. “I’m just…there’s so much riding on this, you know? The book, my contract. Most importantly though, he’s only out to his friends and family right now. This isn’t even my secret to tell. But, heavens, Pez, I feel like I’ve been dying keeping this in. Things are so good with us. I’ve been loving being on this tour.”

“Well, I should think so,” Pez says, smirking a little. “If I were spending my nights tangled in the sheets with none other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, I’d be having the time of my already fabulous life too.”

Henry shoves him gently.

“You’re horrible, but I’ll admit, that’s been an added bonus. But honestly? I simply like being around him. He’s clever and funny and smart and infuriating in the best ways at times…I don’t know. It’s been fun getting to know him.”

Pez’s brows furrow a bit.

“Are you sure you can handle this, Hazza? It actually does sound an awful lot like you’re falling pretty hard here. I assume you two have struck up a deal of some sort with guidelines?”

“It’s just casual. Platonic even. I’m merely giving him pointers in the bedroom and by the time I leave from the tour, that’ll be the end of that. We’ll both move on from this,” Henry says.

Pez doesn’t look entirely convinced. 

“I don’t think you can put a hard deadline on feelings. No offense, but casual has never quite been your factory setting.”

Henry shakes his head. “It’s fine. This is so unlike me. I’m only being silly now, getting swept up in the secrecy of it all.”

Pez grins. “That I can understand. This is terribly salacious. I’m eating it up with a bib and a spoon.”

Pez hums and taps his chin. “Now, let’s back it up just a taste for one moment, honey. When you say he’s improved since New York…”

Henry buries his face in his hands and groans.

“Oh, come on! You’ve got to give me something here,” Pez insists. “You’ve been sitting on an absolute treasure trove of a secret for weeks now!”

Henry looks up and takes a deep breath.

“He…takes instructions very well. He’s a rather quick and adept learner. An enthusiastic one at that.”

Pez’s smile grows even wider which Henry didn’t think was humanly possible.

“I’d absolutely hate you if I didn’t love you so much. I’m dying. Good on you though.”

Henry laughs at the absurdity of Pez’s praise.

“Anyway, I needed to tell someone before I popped, so thank you for indulging me.”

“No, no. Thank you, my dear, for this cup of delicious, piping hot tea. I’m all the more excited for dinner now, to get to know the kitten who has gotten my best friend so smitten.”

~*~*~

After an incredible dinner at one of the trendiest restaurants Henry has ever been to, Pez insists they keep the night going with drinks downtown. It’s truly a marvel to see how easily his best friend is able to be at home anywhere, even a place he’s only now visiting for the first time.

From the moment they entered the club, Pez took his place on the dancefloor like a king holding court among his subjects. He dances with perfectly good strangers, cozying up to a few of them. Henry is already wondering if he’ll have to arrange to sleep elsewhere tonight.

He shakes his head to himself as he reaches for his drink where he and Alex sit in a corner booth, away from the crowd but with a perfect view to see it all.

“You told Pez about us,” Alex says out of the blue, a statement not a question.

Henry bites nervously on his bottom lip, stunned. He thinks back to dinner. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He actually thought Pez did a good job of hiding the fact that he was in on the secret. Yet still, Alex clearly picked up on something.

“I did. I’m sorry. I promise, he wouldn’t tell anyone. Subtly may not be his strong suit,” he says, glancing over Pez with his bubblegum pink hair and flashy sequined jacket, an all-out blur on the dancefloor, “but discretion is. He knows you aren’t out. He’d never in a million years breathe a word of any of this.”

Alex nods and smiles. “If you trust him, so do I. Honestly, I’m not worried. In all fairness, I told my sister and Nora.”

Henry can’t even begin to absorb that information or the possible implications of it. It’s just enough to know that this dynamic between them felt worthwhile enough for Alex to tell the two closest people to him.

“And do they think us mad for this?”

“Actually, no. They damn near threw me a party,” Alex says, reaching for his beer and laughing to himself.  “Your fan club increased by two automatically.”

Henry lifts a brow. “Am I to assume you’re a member too?”

“Sweetheart, I’m the president. The founding member.”

Henry smiles demurely and shakes his head. 

“Once again, I must say, you do wonders for my self-esteem. Thank you.”

Alex eyes him curiously.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Henry says. “What’s on your mind?”

“How the fuck are you single? Not that I’m actually complaining because, selfishly, there’s no way in hell we’d be able to do any of the things we’ve been doing since New York. I’m counting my lucky stars and all that jazz, but still. It’s absolutely crazy to me that you aren’t seeing anyone. I’m sure that’s a conscious choice on your part. It’s got to be. A guy like you wouldn’t have any issues finding a boyfriend if you wanted one.”

Henry rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t know what it is. Perhaps I’m too closed off.”

“Bullshit. The night we met, you opened up to me. You were so easy to talk to. I felt like I’d always known you.”

This brings Henry up short. He’d felt that same connection with Alex too, but to hear the man echo the sentiment almost identically to how he’d thought about it is slightly disorienting.

“I think we’ve established that night was a special case. It was different with you. I was different with you than I normally am with literally every other guy I’ve pursued. I don’t know why. I just felt comfortable so it was easy, for the first time in God only knows how long to open up. It was a fluke.”

“Or fate,” Alex says. His eyes widen and he blinks twice quickly. “I’m like…I’m not trying to say we’re soulmates or anything,” he stammers. “I just mean, I don’t know. It’s rare for me too to click with someone like that. I think there’s something to be said for two people like us just happening across each other then crossing paths again the very next day. What are the odds of that?”

Henry is quiet as he mulls over Alex’s words. 

“I don’t mean to freak you out. Shit, just forget I said anything.”

Henry shakes his head.

“You didn't. I think you might actually have a point and I don’t know what to make of it.”

He searches Alex's eyes then looks away, back down to his laptop.

“Anyway, to answer your question, I suppose I’m single because it simply isn’t my time right now. I’ve never truly been lucky in that department. Our night aside, I really do have a tendency to guard myself.”

“Why?” Alex asks. “There’s so much good in there. I could see it on day one. That’s what drew me to you in the first place.”

“So it wasn’t just my dashing good looks and accent?”

Alex cocks his head to the side and gives him a look.

“I’m serious. I’ve been seeing it ever since. You’re depriving people, Henry. Most of all, yourself and I think that’s the worst part in all of this. It’d be a shame to never share that.”

Henry’s brows furrow. In a way, hadn’t he been letting Alex in this whole time? Henry realizes belatedly that maybe it didn’t count. After all, none of this was actually real. 

If only his heart knew that.

“Shall I get us another round?” he says, rising from his seat, suddenly needing to be away from this suffocating booth.

Alex runs a hand through his hair.

“Fuck. Henry, wait. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Henry says, perhaps too quickly. He tries again, setting his hand down on the table. 

“We’re good. I just…I need a moment is all. Besides, I should probably get Pez a large glass of water before he passes out.”

Alex’s knuckles touch the back of his hand. It’s so subtle and faint, any passerby wouldn’t even notice. But that small point of contact becomes the sole focus of Henry’s entire world.

“You’re sure we’re okay?” Alex asks again.

Henry stares back at him.

“Always.”

~*~*~

Columbus, OH GalaxyCon Day 1

Another week, another time zone and Henry is convinced tour life might actually be the death of him.

When they arrived in Ohio yesterday evening, Henry had felt a bit off. He ignored the feeling, not wanting anything to put a damper on the upcoming con and Alex’s excitement over it. He’d be joined again by his castmates and was looking forward to the big dinner they had planned before they were all parting ways again.

Henry liked how pumped Alex got ahead of and during cons, the way he’d light up at the prospect of seeing familiar faces in the crowds and new ones alike. Since the announcement, Henry has noticed the uptick in fervor from both Alex and fans. The last thing Henry wants to do is give Alex any cause for concern or worry.

He gets through most of the morning at GalaxyCon pretty well until close to noon when Alex’s panel is set to start.

“You okay?” Alex asks. “You look a little pale.”

“Yeah, I think all this traveling is catching up to me.”

Alex puts the back of his hand on Henry’s forehead.

“You feel warm, Henry. You must be coming down with something.”

Henry can hear the worry in Alex's voice.

“I’m fine.”

“I can literally see and feel that you aren’t.”

Henry can hear fans being let into the hall. Maybe all he needs now is just some time away to sit alone with some peace and quiet.

“If it’s alright with you, I’m going to pop back to the hotel and get some rest.”

Alex’s lips and brows are pinched with concern.

“Of course it’s okay. Do you need anything?”

Henry shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. You have your panel to focus on. I’ll be fine.”

Alex doesn’t look convinced and Henry can see the debate he’s having with himself.

He touches Alex’s arm lightly. “I’ll check in with you later. Go have fun out there with your friends.”

Almost on cue, the rest of the cast starts to line up behind the stage. Henry watches them go past but Alex doesn’t budge.

“Go, Alex. I’ll be fine.”

Alex sighs and nods, finally accepting defeat.

“The second we’re done here though, I’m calling you.”

“Fair enough,” Henry says. “I’ll be as good as new by the time you do. You’ll see.”

~*~*~

There’s an annoying pounding sound that makes Henry’s already aching head feel worse as he opens his eyes.

“Henry, let me in,” he hears faintly.

Henry groans and rolls over in bed, instantly regretting the move. His vision feels like a dizzying kaleidoscope. He shuts his eyes again and takes a breath before looking around his room.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been knocked out, but the sun is no longer in the sky and that’s telling enough.

“Henry?” the voice calls again. There are three more quick knocks on the door. “You’re freaking me out. Open up.”

Alex. 

Henry sways as he gets to his feet. It takes a moment for the room to stop feeling like it’s spinning before he walks over to the door and opens it.

On the other side, he’s met with an anxious looking Alex who takes a deep breath of relief.

“Thank God. I was about to get hotel security.”

“I’m fine,” Henry says. 

Alex’s face is incredulous. “You look like shit which I never thought was possible. No offense,” he tacks on. “Shaan has been calling you. I’ve been calling you. I thought you’d passed out though, by the looks of things, I’m guessing that’s exactly what happened. You’re sick.”

Henry rubs at his left temple.

“I need…to sit. You…can keep talking if you want,” he says, stepping away from the door and back into the room.

Behind him, Alex scoffs and presumably comes inside. Henry hears the door close, but it feels like it’d take too much effort to turn around and confirm.

He sits on the edge of bed and wraps the covers around himself like a cocoon.

“I wanted to ask you some more stuff for the book. I just need thirty minutes more. You can go. I’ll set an alarm,” he says, fumbling around the nightstand for his phone but he soon abandons the task when he forgets what he’s searching for a moment later.

“Forget the book. Do you know what day it is?” Alex asks as he approaches his bedside.

“It’s Friday,” Henry mumbles, the comforter falling from his shoulders. 

“Okay, yeah, technically. But it’s also Opposite Day. So, I will be doing the polar opposite of everything you suggest.”

“Alex. How is that— in any way, shape, or form—different from any other day of the week for you?”

Alex grins, his nose scrunching as he does so.

“You may have lost the ability to breathe through your nose, but it’s nice to know your sass is still firmly in place.”

A wave of nausea hits Henry just then, holding him back from making another quick retort. The discomfort he feels must register on his face as Alex’s smile disappears and concern quickly takes its place instead. 

“Come on, seriously, lay down. Please let me take care of you.”

Henry’s tired body responds at once as if it’d been waiting for the command to allow him to finally give in. He settles in on his side and Alex is right there, pulling the comforter over him.

Henry’s surprised as Alex crouches beside the bed, their faces on level as he brushes damp strands from Henry’s forehead. His fingertips are soft against Henry’s skin where they lightly graze him. Alex’s eyes track the movement of his own hand, but Henry can’t look away from the other man's face, taking stock of the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones and his perfect mouth parts slightly. 

“I’ll be right back,” Alex says softly. “I’m going to find the nearest pharmacy and grab a few things for you.”

“I just need to sleep it off.”

Alex scoffs. “Christ, and I thought I was stubborn. I might’ve finally found my match.”

Those words shouldn’t have the power to make Henry’s heart leap. He chalks it up to his sickness for the temporary delusion that Alex could mean anything more. They aren’t a match, even if they’ve been proving to be compatible in virtually every regard. He’s simply not the kind of person Alex actually settles down with.

It’s far too much to think about now; perhaps even when he isn’t feeling like Death warmed over wouldn’t be the best time to attempt dissecting all his complicated feelings.

“You’re the hottest nurse I’ve ever had.”

Alex winks. “If only I’d had time to get a uniform. You’ll just have to use your imagination, sweetheart.”

“A literal interpretation of a fever dream, huh?”

Alex smiles and strokes Henry’s hair again.

“Speaking of dreams, get some sleep while I’m gone.” Henry watches Alex snag his keycard from the nightstand. “I’ll let myself in when I get back. Call if anything changes while I’m out, okay?”

Henry nods, but already his brain is starting to shut down, his eyes too.

He feels a gentle hand against his cheek and what he thinks could be lips on the crown of his head for a brief moment before sleep overtakes him.

~*~*~

When he opens his eyes again, Alex’s back is to him as he sits at the front of the bed. An episode of The Golden Girls is playing on the television and Henry thinks, surely, this fever is playing tricks on his mind.

He sits up slowly and Alex turns at once just as the show breaks for advertisements.

Alex smiles and gets to his feet, going over to the table in the room. Henry sees two tote bags there that Alex begins to unload. The haul is serious, complete with cough medicine, throat lozenges, vapor rub, and even soup and orange juice.

It warms Henry’s heart to see the care that’s gone into this, but he can’t imagine this is how anyone would want to spend a Friday night.

“You’re sweet for this, Alex, thank you,” he says, sniffling a little. He clears his throat.

“You’re going to get sick if you hang around much longer though. You should probably go. I can take it from here. Honest.”

“Do I make for such poor company that you’re giving me the boot already? I’m borderline offended.”

Henry lets out a breath, the closest thing he can muster to a laugh, and gets into bed again, pulling the covers over himself.

“Of course not. I’d just feel even worse if you caught this because of me.”

Alex brings the container of soup over and sets it on the nightstand.

“I’m from Texas. We’re built strong. And besides, I always prepare for the con circuit. At this point I’ve probably got more Airborne than blood running through my veins. I’m good and I’m staying now shh, commercials are over.”

Henry shakes his head to himself as Alex focuses back on the screen and sits beside him now on top of the covers. Henry studies his profile, the sharp angles on a still soft face.

“You must be starving by now and if you aren’t, that’s all the more reason to eat. Here, try a bit of the soup.”

Alex leans over him and grabs the circular plastic container and takes the lid off. Vapors rise from it and it hits Henry then just how hungry he really is. Alex dips a spoon inside and brings it to his lips.

“I can feed myself. I’m not a baby,” Henry protests.

“No, but you’re acting like one. Now shut up and let me take care of you, dammit,” Alex grumbles.

“Your bedside manor could use a bit more work,” Henry says, but he obliges, leaning forward and taking a sip. 

Alex’s eyes look anxious as he watches him.

“Is it good? I went with chicken noodle, a tried and true classic. But if you want something else, I could always—”

“It’s perfect, thank you. You’ve done more than enough, Alex. Seriously.”

He lets Alex coddle him and finishes the soup before taking some cold medicine and orange juice. They watch more TV though Henry doesn’t really pay attention to anything on the screen. His body feels drained again and he's glad Alex had been stubborn and insisted on staying. It’d be an even more miserable scene if he were alone.

He tucks in on Alex’s side and rests his head against his chest.

“I’m really glad you're here,” Henry says after a moment. He listens to the steady drumming of Alex’s heart as the man cards his fingers through Henry’s hair, his dull nails gently scratching against his scalp. It’s enough to lull Henry; he feels himself quickly losing the battle to fatigue all over again.

“There’s no place else I’d rather be. Get some more rest, sweetheart,” he hears Alex’s voice say quietly as he begins to drift. The final word hit Henry’s ear a bit differently. It’s not as if Alex has never said it to him before, but this time, it sounded sincerely affectionate. Romantic even.

His exhaustion and delirium must be at an all-time high and working together to make him conjure up the term of endearment Alex has never uttered in that particular tone before.

~*~*~

Columbus, OH

Day 2

“You missed the cast dinner,” Henry says almost accusatorily, setting his plate of breakfast and mug of tea down on Alex’s table the next morning in the hotel's dining hall.

“Hi, sunshine. Good morning to you too. Slept well then?” Alex replies, popping a grape into his mouth.

Henry frowns as he takes a seat.

“Alex, I’m serious. I just realized you were supposed to meet up with everyone last night.”

Alex shrugs and plucks another grape from the bunch on his plate.

“And yet the world is still spinning. The sun is still shining. It’s not a big deal. I see them all the time and you needed me more. It wasn’t a hard choice to make.”

Henry feels his face warm slightly at the sentiment. 

“You didn’t have to sacrifice your night for me.”

“It wasn’t a sacrifice. I wanted to be there for you. It’s as simple as that.”

Henry pulls out a chair and sits.

“Well, thank you. I appreciated it.”

Alex smiles. “You look good today. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Me too. Considering the fact that you bought up half the pharmacy, my immune system didn’t have a choice but to get itself in order. How much do I owe you?”

“And here I was thinking we finally moved past this. I’m not accepting any form of payment or payback for last night,” Alex says, spreading cream cheese on a bagel.

 Henry smiles to himself.

“You’re infuriatingly stubborn.”

“I might’ve been told that once or twice before, yes.”

Henry laughs and decides he’s better off shifting gears.

“What would you like to do today? Are any of your castmates still in town?”

Alex shakes his head.

“Nah, not for long. They had early morning flights and should be at the airport by now if they aren’t already in the skies.”

Henry bites his tongue to avoid apologizing again.

“Perhaps we could hang out then? Maybe we could get lunch or do something fun before we kiss this city goodbye too.”

Alex grabs his phone and types something into it.

“Have you ever done mini-golf before?”

Henry laughs.

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“There's an adventure park near here. Mini-golf, go karts…you in?”

“Are you an adrenaline junkie?” Henry asks, taking a sip of his tea.

Alex eyes him for a moment.

“I’m a fan of most things that get my heart racing. Surely you must know that by now.”

Henry tries and fails not to look affected. Usually Alex saves flirtatious talk like this for their lessons, when they’re in the privacy of one of their rooms.

He figures he’s overthinking it. Anyone passing by would simply think it’s an innocuous statement. Only Henry knows the deeper meaning of his words. It excites him, having this secret hiding in plain sight.

“That makes two of us then. I’m game.”

~*~*~

They unwind after a day of adventure in Alex’s room watching Crescent Valley. Alex gives Henry behind the scenes commentary on what it was like filming on the show and he takes advantage of the insights, letting his phone rest between them as they lay side by side in bed, recording all the stories so that he can add more color to the book.

Henry creates a new voice note and puts the show on pause, switching over to his running notes document.

“Can you talk to me about your journey learning about your sexuality?” he asks. “It’s such a key part to the memoir, I’d love to hear more about that.”

Alex pulls in a breath and Henry feels a bit guilty about switching gears so suddenly. In contrast to how easy it was for Alex to share on-set anecdotes, he seems unsure of where to start now.

“It used to be a distant, vague thing in my head. The first concrete period of time I can pinpoint is freshman year. I played lacrosse in high school,” Alex says. “And I was damn good.”

Henry can picture it easily, Alex in uniform, a complete rockstar on the field. He’s patient as Alex parses his thoughts.

“I’d get super competitive with guys I thought had an edge on me. I can’t really describe it. But sometimes I’d reason, if I could beat them, they’d be impressed and I’d get on their radar. I really don’t know how to explain it,” he repeats. Henry can hear the frustration. “I guess I was seeking some kind of validation. I wanted them to notice me and not just as an athlete.”

Alex sighs.

“I’ve only genuinely hooked up with one guy other than you. I’ve gotten wasted at parties in L.A before and I’ve made out with some dudes, but it was always something I could explain away like, I was drunk or just doing a bit. Messing around, you know? But then I’d think about high school and the way one of my teammates and I would kinda orbit around each other. It wasn’t…the same with him. With Liam,” Alex sighs and Henry doesn’t miss how soft Alex’s voice gets when saying his old teammates name. 

“I didn’t get that competitive streak. It was different. More real. With him, it was like we were on equal ground.”

Alex shakes his head, toying with his fingers.

“We were good friends. We’d hang out a lot after practice or games. We kind of fell into it. I almost don’t even remember how or when I noticed it for the first time, the way we’d hold each other’s gaze a little longer than was needed. Or the way we’d make excuses to casually touch either other in almost stealthy ways. I guess it doesn’t really matter. Point is, it eventually came to a head. We’d be so hopped up on adrenaline after lacrosse most times and one day, one thing led to another and the next thing I knew, we were making out in my room.”

Henry studies Alex’s profile, sees the deep furrow of his brow as if, years later, he’s still trying to understand his actions.

“The first time it happened, I thought that’d be the only time. We were both kinda spooked by it, to be honest. After he left though, I couldn’t stop thinking about it…about how much I actually liked it and wanted it again. For fuck’s sake, I got off thinking about him and our kiss that night. That was the first time I ever got off thinking about a guy.”

Alex sighs.

“I saw him the next day at practice. At first, we kept our distance in the locker room. We went out on the field with everyone else, and played our parts well. Then he showed up at my house afterwards totally unannounced and it became a recurring thing after that. If we celebrated a win or if one of us had a shitty day at practice...we’d keep seeking each other out. It was mostly always just kissing. But every now and then, we’d touch. Nothing over the top. Hell, we’d mostly just get ourselves off together. I think I was too scared to touch him like that. It would have made what we were doing too real somehow.”

Henry listens on quietly, fully present in this moment with Alex.

“We… I chalked it up to goofing around. Just boys being boys or whatever bullshit I used to convince myself it meant nothing. Liam is actually engaged now to a pretty great guy. We’ve talked since high school, you know, about everything. I thought we were just messing around, but he told me how serious it was on his end, even back then. He’d always felt different than our classmates. He always knew this truth about himself even though he was afraid to say it out loud. He genuinely liked me as more than a friend.”

Alex frowns and collects his thoughts.

“Looking back on it, I feel like such an asshole. Liam had real feelings for me and I know now that I was attracted to him, but we were in two totally different headspaces when we were hooking up. Each time, it was reaffirming something for him. He knew fully that he was gay. For me, at the time at least, it just felt like a way of getting off and having fun. He felt like an exception to everything, an anomaly. I still went out with and hooked up with girls regularly, you know. I didn’t know what it actually meant about me that I was in fact drawn to both.”

Alex runs a hand through his hair. 

“I’m glad he and I have had the chance to talk things through. And I’ve apologized to him several times, but it hardly feels like enough. I should have been more careful. I should have seen what that really was. I never meant to hurt him.”

Henry inches forward, his heart breaking as Alex looks at him with wet eyes.

“You’ve done all you can since learning the truth. It wasn’t intentional and I’m sure he knows that. Liam isn’t upset with you, right?”

Alex shakes his head.

“No, but he’d have every reason in the world to be.”

Henry places a hand on Alex’s.

“You can’t beat yourself up over this. You’ve made amends. You were just kids back then. This isn’t easy. You’ve got to give yourself some grace.”

There’s a distant look in Alex’s eyes as he blinks his tears away.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right and logically, I get that. Still, I can’t fully shake it. I can’t help but to wonder what my life would have been like if only I would have realized what it meant that I kept going back to him. Because I really wanted it with him specifically, but it felt like a one-off, like no big deal, you know? If I thought a few guys were attractive, I saw it as just having eyes and being observant. It didn’t feel like some life-altering thing. But in reality? The things I was doing with Liam, the things I wanted to do with him but didn’t have the courage to say…that was a huge turning point and I totally missed it. Sometimes, it almost feels like I was robbed. But it was my own ignorance that kept me in the dark for so long.”

Alex shrugs and looks away and Henry’s heart shatters at once.

“Anyway, that’s a conversation for me and my therapist. I won’t bore you with it any further now,” Alex laughs, but Henry can hear the pain in it. 

He stops the recording. He’s asked enough of Alex tonight.

“It’s never a bore, a bother, or a burden. You can always talk to me. Even if I weren’t tasked with writing out your life’s story, I’d want to listen. I…perhaps it’s improper, but I sincerely do consider you a dear friend, Alex.”

Alex quirks a brow.

“Given the things we’ve done to each other’s bodies, I’d say friendship is the least improper territory we’ve waded into.”

This time Henry laughs as he concedes.

“You’ve got me there,” he relents. 

Alex smiles softly and reaches for Henry’s hand. 

“I appreciate it though. The offer and…you know, you in general. You’re helping me in all sorts of ways, it’s actually kind of crazy. I don’t know if I’ve even said thank you yet, for any of it. But I am grateful for everything.”

“You’re welcome. It’s nice to know I can be useful,” Henry says, aiming for levity.

But Alex’s face is serious as he shakes his head and laces their fingers.

“It’s beyond that, Henry. You’re essential to me. I don’t ever want you to forget that.”

[writeriguess]

Hi! Can I request Gojo Satoru (top) x Okkotsu Yuuta (bottom) fic? Yuuta starts making bento for Gojo-sensei every day

Yuuta Okkotsu wasn’t sure how it had started. Maybe it was the way Gojo had casually dropped a comment about missing breakfast during a morning spar. Or perhaps it was the way Yuuta felt the need to repay his sensei for everything he’d done, from guiding him through cursed techniques to teaching him how to navigate the chaos that had become his life.

Whatever it was, Yuuta found himself in his small apartment's kitchen, arranging a bento box with careful precision. His hands moved automatically, placing a few rolled omelets next to rice balls, followed by slices of grilled fish, and some neatly cut vegetables to the side. It was modest, but well-balanced—exactly the way he imagined Gojo would never eat if left to his own devices.

“Is this too much?” Yuuta muttered to himself, tapping his fingers nervously on the counter.

Gojo Satoru wasn’t the kind of person who needed taking care of. He had the power to obliterate entire cities if he wanted to, and yet Yuuta couldn’t help but picture the infamous sorcerer mindlessly picking up convenience store food or, worse, skipping meals entirely. Gojo needed someone to look out for him, whether he'd admit it or not. And Yuuta—well, Yuuta wanted to be that person.

When he finally arrived at Jujutsu High that morning, bento in hand, Yuuta hesitated outside of Gojo’s office door. This felt absurd now that he was standing here. Would Gojo even accept the bento, or would he laugh it off? What if he found it too forward?

Before Yuuta could second-guess himself any further, the door slid open. There was Gojo, as usual, leaning back in his chair with his blindfold loosely draped over his eyes. His trademark grin spread across his face as he noticed Yuuta standing there awkwardly.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite student!” Gojo drawled, tilting his head slightly. “What brings you here so early? Planning on skipping class already? I’m proud.”

Yuuta scratched the back of his neck, cheeks flushing under the weight of Gojo’s gaze. "No, I—I just thought you might want this." He extended the bento box, hands shaking slightly. "You, uh, mentioned skipping breakfast before, so I made you something."

Gojo blinked once, twice, before his grin stretched wider, more playful. "Yuuta-kun, are you proposing to me?"

"Wh-What?!" Yuuta's face heated up instantly. "No! I just... thought you'd like it, that's all."

Gojo took the bento with an exaggerated sigh, leaning forward slightly. "So thoughtful. You know, no one's made me breakfast in ages. Well, unless you count Nanami, but he’s always yelling at me while he does it. You’re much cuter when you worry about me."

Yuuta wanted to crawl into a hole right then and there, but he forced himself to stay put. His voice was barely a whisper when he managed to speak. "Just eat it, please."

Gojo opened the bento box with a flourish, his movements teasingly slow, as if building up the tension. When he finally took a bite of the omelet, Yuuta held his breath. Gojo’s expression shifted slightly, and for a brief moment, Yuuta saw something softer in his sensei’s face—a flicker of genuine surprise.

“This… is delicious,” Gojo said, sounding uncharacteristically sincere. He popped another piece into his mouth, nodding in approval. “I didn’t know you could cook, Yuuta-kun. You’ve been holding out on me.”

Relief flooded through Yuuta, his nerves slowly easing. "I'm glad you like it."

Gojo leaned back in his chair, holding the bento box like it was the most precious thing in the world. "If I knew you could cook like this, I would’ve asked you to do this sooner. Think you could make me bento every day?"

Yuuta felt his heart skip a beat. Every day? He hadn't really thought that far ahead when he'd started this whole thing, but now that Gojo was looking at him with that mischievous grin, the idea didn’t seem so bad. In fact, it felt almost... right.

“If you want me to,” Yuuta replied quietly, his voice barely audible.

Gojo’s grin softened, and he reached out, ruffling Yuuta’s hair with a playful affection. “How could I ever say no to that?”

Days passed, and Yuuta found himself preparing bento for Gojo every morning. At first, it was just another task on his list of daily routines, but soon, it became something more—a way to connect with Gojo in a way that words couldn’t quite capture. Gojo, for all his teasing, seemed to appreciate it in his own way. He'd flash that dazzling grin every morning when Yuuta handed over the bento, sometimes giving an exaggerated compliment, sometimes making a playful comment about how Yuuta was trying to win him over.

But despite the constant banter, Yuuta could sense something deeper beneath Gojo’s usual facade. There were moments when Gojo would take a bite of his food, and for just a second, that playful mask would slip. His expression would soften, and his usual energetic demeanor would become more subdued, almost contemplative.

One day, after handing Gojo yet another carefully prepared bento, Yuuta finally gathered the courage to ask what had been on his mind for weeks.

“Gojo-sensei... do you really like the bentos?”

Gojo, mid-bite, paused and raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I? You’ve been spoiling me with these every day.”

Yuuta hesitated, his hands fidgeting nervously. “I just... I don’t want you to feel like you have to eat them. If you don’t like them, you can tell me.”

Gojo’s usual grin faded slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. He set the bento down on his desk, leaning forward to meet Yuuta’s gaze directly.

“Yuuta,” Gojo began, his voice softer than usual, “I’m not someone who needs much from people. I’m used to being self-sufficient, to taking care of things on my own. But these bentos... they’re different. You’re not just making me food. You’re looking out for me in a way that not many people do. I don’t take that lightly.”

Yuuta’s heart raced in his chest, unsure of how to respond. He hadn’t expected Gojo to get so serious. It was as if Gojo could see right through him, into the depths of his intentions, into the feelings that had started to bloom in the quiet moments of making those bentos.

Gojo stood up from his chair, stepping closer to Yuuta, his presence overwhelming in the small office. He lifted a hand and cupped Yuuta’s face gently, his thumb brushing against his cheek.

“You don’t have to worry,” Gojo said, his voice low. “I like everything you do for me. More than you know.”

Yuuta swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Sensei...”

Gojo leaned in closer, his breath warm against Yuuta’s skin. “You’re special to me, Yuuta. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Before Yuuta could fully process Gojo’s words, the older man closed the gap between them, his lips brushing softly against Yuuta’s. It was gentle, tentative, as if Gojo was waiting for Yuuta’s response. And when Yuuta kissed him back, it felt like something had finally clicked into place, as if all the unspoken words, the careful gestures, had led them to this moment.

When they finally pulled apart, Gojo’s usual grin returned, but this time, it was different. Softer. More genuine.

“So,” Gojo said with a chuckle, “does this mean you’ll keep making me bento?”

Yuuta smiled, feeling his cheeks warm. “As long as you want them.”

Gojo laughed, pulling Yuuta closer. “Oh, I want more than just bentos from you, Yuuta.”

And from that day forward, the bento-making continued. But now, it wasn’t just about the food—it was about something much deeper, something unspoken but understood between them. Every meal, every kiss, every quiet moment shared in Gojo’s office felt like a step toward something more—a bond that went beyond teacher and student, something special, something theirs.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[sapphicromanoffxo]

Lucky Ones | vii. Due encounters

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word count: 4,042

Warnings: mild fluff, angst, that's all

Summary: Part of Natasha has been revaled and Wanda struggleed to understand the newfound reality

A/N: i needed to get this off my chest so here it is. Uhh. Advance sorry?

»»-----------► Series Masterlist

The days leading up to her birthday did a number on Natasha's mood, and it showed on how she berated her employees on their poor performance. Every now and then, she found herself pacing in her office, trying to calm down her overwhelming emotions. Could it be that she was trying to cover up her anxiety with anger instead? That had been her coping mechanism for years. No amount of therapy could pull her away from her ways.

One more thing made Natasha on edge. She was planning on telling Wanda the truth but couldn't find the courage to do so. Part of her was afraid of what Wanda's reaction would be to the fact that Natasha had been withholding vital information for months. Natasha's gaze frequently drifted to a polaroid picture on her desk, a snapshot of herself captured by Wanda, who had developed a sudden passion for photography, with Natasha as her muse.

There was an unsettling dynamic between them; Wanda possessed an uncanny ability to influence Natasha, bending her to her desires with a subtle power. Natasha, despite her reservations, complied reluctantly. The emotional ties between them left Natasha apprehensive about potential repercussions. Natasha hesitated to reciprocate Wanda's affection, no matter how genuine Wanda's feelings were. She was haunted by a nagging doubt that accepting Wanda's affections might lead to abandonment once the truth surfaced.

Natasha had found herself contemplating her emotions regarding Wanda ever since that fateful night when Wanda confessed her love. In truth, Wanda's affection felt like a comforting embrace Natasha hadn't realised she yearned for. Despite this, Natasha had a tendency to downplay her responses to expressions of love, a pattern that began with Melina's affection. From Melina's nurturing to Wanda's unwavering love, Natasha had been granted a second chance at a family that genuinely cared for her.

As Natasha immersed herself in thoughts about family, her office door swung open abruptly, revealing Yelena energetically barging in.

"Natalia! Happy birthday to you, happy to you!" Yelena embraced Natasha, singing in an annoying yet endearing manner. It's apparent that both of them are polar opposite since Yelena is a walking ray of sunshine while Natasha is a gloomy weather.

"Yel, it's not even my birthday yet and it's only Thursday. You're too advanced," Natasha quipped, rolling her eyes at her sister's antics.

"Oh hush. I can't wait for your celebration this Saturday. Mom had it all planned out and the kids are buzzing with excitement, too! Although they are only excited about the cake part and that's okay." Both women chuckled at Yelena's comments. She remembers how she and sister would fight over the last piece of cake when they were younger. They ended up not eating it at all since Alexie stole the cake while they were bickering.

The two women talked some more about their lives. Yelena is now a fashion designer and starting her own brand. She is the one who has been supplying Natasha's suits which Wanda adores so much.

After a while, Yelena bids her goodbye as she still has errands to run in the city and Natasha is back again with her gloomy mood.

After completing her afternoon class ahead of schedule, Wanda eagerly anticipated a visit to Natasha since she's been having a bad day at work. Intent on brightening Natasha's mood, Wanda concealed a bunch of pristine white tulips in her bag. As she approached the entrance of the building, a familiar voice called out her name, prompting her to turn around in surprise. "Yelena? Oh my god!"

Yelena enveloped Wanda in a warm hug. "Wanda! It's been ages. How have you been?"

"Things are good. I'm still in college and taking engineering."

"Really? I remember how passionate you were about engineering. I'm thrilled to hear you're making it happen!"

"Yeah, it's a wild ride, but I'm hanging in there."

"By the way, my sister is celebrating her birthday at the orphanage this Saturday. You should come and finally meet her!" Yelena had often spoken about her sister during their time in the orphanage, but Wanda had never had the chance to meet her. Back then, Yelena had been considered being adopted by the orphanage owner but chose to stay a bit longer with her friends before heading to New York.

"I'd love to come! It's high time I meet the sister you've always talked about, huh?"

"Absolutely! I'll introduce you, and you two can chat about your engineering stuff I guess."

Numbers have been exchanged before they went on their different ways. They have agreed on catching up and Yelena would pick up Wanda in her apartment on Saturday.

Wanda strode into the building, navigating her way to Natasha's office. Natasha's secretary offered a greeting and inquired about the reason for her visit. Wanda simply stated that Natasha had requested to see her and sought her assistance. Without further inquiry, she received the green light to enter Natasha's office.

As anticipated, Natasha was engrossed in her laptop, wearing a frown that swiftly faded upon spotting Wanda.

"Hey, I wasn't expecting you here, detka." Natasha pushed her chair back, inviting Wanda to sit on her lap for a warm greeting.

Naturally, Wanda complied, wrapping her arms around Natasha's neck. "I just wanted to see you and surprise you, I guess."

"Hmm. I really like this skirt of yours, sweetheart." Natasha's hands travelled down Wanda's legs, caressing the exposed skin.

Wanda chuckled at Natasha's boldness. "Natty, we're in your office!"

"And? It didn't stop us before. I remember how I bent you over that couch, and you loved every second of it."

Wanda suddenly stood up upon remembering the flowers in her bag. She retrieved them and had a shy look on her face when she gave them to Natasha. "For you."

Natasha struggled to suppress a blush, but her body betrayed her. "Baby, what's this for?"

"Nothing. I know you've been having tough days at work, and I wanted to make you feel better." Wanda settled herself onto Natasha's lap, noticing a small smile on Natasha's face – a positive sign.

"You didn't have to, but thank you. Just being with you makes me feel good." Natasha rested her head against Wanda's chest, attempting to conceal the warmth spreading across her face.

"You're welcome, Nat. I love you." Wanda's words stirred something in Natasha, prompting her to take a deep breath and broach a topic with Wanda.

"Do you have any plans this Saturday?"

"Uh, I'll be out with a friend. We haven't seen each other in a long time, so we're catching up this Saturday. Why? Do you have something in mind?"

Though disappointed, Natasha resisted the urge to persuade Wanda to stay with her. Instead, she smiled and replied, "That's alright. I won't be in New York, and I just wanted to know if you wanted to come with me. But it's okay. I'll be back right away anyway."

"Are you sure? I could accompany you if you'd like."

Natasha gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Wanda's ear, her courage momentarily discarded. "No, no. It's fine. You have fun with your friend, okay?"

Saturday came, and Natasha's anxiety has skyrocketed at a different level. She wanted so badly to just blurt out everything and hope for the best. Being a coward and an idiot will get her nowhere. Wanda has been nothing but gentle and loving towards her, and deserves to know the truth but she can't find in herself to utter a single thing about it.

Wanda was about to leave when Natasha tugged her sleeve. Unable to articulate the depth of her feelings, she managed a simple, "Take care, okay? And keep me informed about where you're headed?"

"I will, Nat. You drive safely, too. Your speed limit is only 60 km/hr." Wanda said to her lover playfully, unaware of the storm that was happening on Natasha's head.

"That's too slow for me, baby. How about I push it to 80?"

"You're too bad! Please be careful, okay? I have to leave now. Bye!" With a peck on Natasha's cheek, Wanda left the apartment.

Natasha headed to the bedroom to dress, catching her reflection in the mirror. Whispering to herself, she said, "S dnem rozhdeniya tebya, Natalia." Happy birthday, Natalia.

Yelena wasted no time initiating a conversation as soon as she picked up Wanda. They delved into years of catching up, compensating for the time spent apart since their orphanage days.

"I enrolled in college; luckily, they accepted me despite the lack of educational requirements from our special education background. It was challenging, having to take multiple tests to meet their standards," Wanda shared.

"Must have been tough. And Pietro? Where's he now?" Yelena inquired.

"He got a scholarship in Michigan as a race track runner. I miss him; it's been a while," Wanda admitted.

"I can't imagine you two being apart. You were practically inseparable!"

"Yeah, it was tough when we decided to go our separate ways. We knew it would happen as we became adults and pursued different careers."

Their conversation flowed throughout the drive until they reached Westview, slightly delayed by traffic. Milena greeted and hugged them upon arrival, marveling at Wanda's growth. Pleasantries exchanged, preparations continued, and Wanda had the opportunity to meet the children.

Wanda had a moment of reflection on how Milena and this place provided safety and a fresh start for her and Pietro, Wanda felt a deep gratitude toward Milena for taking a chance on them and helping rebuild their lives.

"Yelena, your father will be arriving soon. Natalia will be accompanying him, so let's wrap this up," Milena instructed, orchestrating the surprise for the birthday celebration. The children, adorned with smiles and holding balloons, eagerly awaited the moment to astonish the birthday guest. Wanda, however, found herself unexpectedly nervous, unable to pinpoint a valid reason for her unease. She was about to finally meet Yelena's sister, someone she only knew through stories.

Reflecting back to when they were just 13 and 16 years old, Wanda and Yelena shared a unique bond that blossomed in the confines of the orphanage. Yelena's adoption notice at 16 marked the beginning of her new life, and she returned from meeting her adoptive family brimming with excitement about her soon-to-be sister. Yelena had painted a vivid picture of her sister: a college student pursuing a challenging course and is undeniably cool. These descriptions left Wanda with a twinge of jealousy, wanting her to have her own family and the security that came with it.

In those moments, Wanda yearned for the warmth of a family to come home to, a place where she could find solace and a sense of belonging. Although the prospect seemed distant, relegated to the past, Wanda had grown into adulthood, now pursuing her dreams and carving her path in her chosen career.

Wanda's momentary reverie was abruptly interrupted by the melodic chorus of the children singing the birthday song. The long-awaited guest had finally arrived, although the seconds seemed interminable to Wanda as she fixed her gaze on the approaching figure, which made her heart stop. The walk, the mannerisms—Wanda recognized them instantly. The world seemed to hold its breath as everyone erupted in excitement, but Wanda found herself rooted to the spot, unable to move.

Natasha. All she could see is Natasha. Natasha is Yelena's sister. The person she have heard stories for being cool. The person who have given her a place to stay, provided her needs, and ultimately, her lover. What are the odds of this happening from one in a million. It's like the world have played on both of them by being at the right place, at the right time.

Wanda's emotions spiraled in every direction, throwing her out of the loop of the present time. Happiness surged within her, the prospect of being with Natasha and celebrating together. But at the same time, a wave of anger and betrayal crashed over her. The realisation hit her hard—she had bared her soul, shared every facet of her life for the sake of transparency, yet she knew so little about Natasha. In Wanda's understanding, relationships were built on reciprocal openness, and this revelation stirred a heavy mix of conflicting emotions within her.

"Wanda! Hey, are you okay? We lost you there for a moment. Come on, let me introduce you to her." Yelena tugged at her arm, leading her toward Natasha.

"Talia! You remember my friend, Wanda?"

In that moment, Wanda felt her heart pause once again.

Natasha's gaze met Wanda's, and Wanda discerned a fleeting hesitation as recognition dawned in her eyes.

"I know her, Yelena. She works at our company part-time," Natasha remarked, avoiding any mention of their personal relationship, aware that this unexpected encounter was something neither Wanda nor she had anticipated.

In this instance, Wanda wished she could vanish, retreat to the hills, and never return.

"Oh bummer! What a small world, huh?"

Operating on autopilot, Wanda tried her best to keep her emotions at bay. The details of what happened afterwards were blurry for her. The celebration went on for hours and she deliberately avoided Natasha. She wondered how she could engage in a normal conversation without her emotions taking over? Choosing to remain close to herself, Wanda kept mostly quiet.

As the evening neared 6 o'clock, Milena extended an offer to Natasha. "Nat, you can stay here for the night if you want. Yelena will be here."

"No, I don't think so. I still have some things to finish for tomorrow. I'm sorry, Mom."

"Tomorrow is Sunday, Nat. That's all you do, so focused at work. Loosen up a bit." Alexei encouraged, hoping to persuade Natasha to stay the night. Despite his attempt, Natasha remained resolute.

"Dad, I know how to 'loosen up'. I just have a lot to do, that's all. I promise I will make it up to all of you next time. Okay?" Natasha compromised, realising the need for an impending conversation with Wanda, which is more important.

Yelena, eager to spend more time with her friend, turned to Wanda. "What about you, Wanda? You can stay here with us."

"I'm sorry, but I have to decline for now. I still need to work on my projects due next week," Wanda replied, a subtle acknowledgement passing between her and Natasha, both recognizing the unresolved tension.

"Well that's fine, Wanda." Milena reassured her and added "Natalia should drive you back to New York. Both of you should head down now before it gets dark."

The two women bid their farewells and made their way to the car, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. It was suffocating and sickening. Wanda wanted to jump off the car but it wouldn't do any good. Neither dared to initiate a conversation, both opting for silence as they endured the awkward car ride.

Yet, someone had to break the silence and address the inevitable. "I know you have questions, and I will answer them once we reach home," Natasha finally spoke, setting the stage for the much-anticipated conversation.

"Did you know?" Wanda's question hung in the air, her gaze avoiding Natasha.

Natasha sighed heavily, her response measured, "Did I know what?"

"That I will be at your party?" Wanda's voice dripped with coldness, a version Natasha was unaccustomed to, a Wanda who couldn't even meet her eyes.

"No, I did not," Natasha admitted. The truth was, Yelena hadn't mentioned bringing her friend, and had she done so, the unfolding events might have taken a different turn.

"But have you known me for long?"

Natasha hesitated for a moment, a fleeting confirmation of Wanda's doubts. Eventually, she replied, "Yes."

The remainder of the ride passed in a heavy silence. Natasha was acutely aware of the tangled mess the situation had become. She found herself in a position where defense seemed futile, unable to offer a reasonable explanation to appease the situation.

Wanda got out of the car immediately and waited in the living room. She was mentally preparing herself for what's about to happen. She has so many questions! Questions that she never knew she will be asking to the person whom she loves the most. This could lead to two things and Wanda cannot fathom how devastating either endings are.

As the door clicked shut, Wanda wasted no time confronting Natasha, "Are you going to be truthful, or are you going to cover your ass here?"

"I am willing to answer whatever you ask. I owe you that. But I am asking for you to have an open mind," Natasha implored, attempting to maintain a semblance of calm between them. Wanda, visibly vibrating with anger, stood on the precipice of an emotional outburst. Natasha, prepared to weather the onslaught of Wanda's emotions, offered what little solace she could in that moment.

Wanda scoffed at Natasha's plea, "An open mind, you say? How can I have an open mind when I don't even know who you are? We've been dating for months, and I've just realized how little I know about you. I didn't even know who your parents were until now, your birthplace, your story, or even your birthday! Do you understand how messed up that is?"

"Wanda, I'm sorry—," Natasha began, but Wanda cut her off with a surge of frustration.

"No! Your apology means nothing! You're only sorry because you got caught. What if I hadn't run into Yelena and she didn't invite me? Would you continue lying to me?"

Admitting guilt, Natasha pleaded, "Yes, I've omitted important details about myself, but I swear I wouldn't lie to you. Please, you have to trust me."

Wanda, questioned Natasha's sincerity. "How long have you really known me?" The impending revelation filled Wanda with a sense of dread, sensing that the truth might be too hard to understand.

Natasha, resigned, took a seat on the couch, covering her face with her hands. The truth, she knew, would cause a chain reaction of nothing but damage. With a heavy sigh, she confessed, "I've known you since the day you moved into the orphanage."

Wanda felt the breath knocked out of her as she processed the weight of Natasha's revelation—eight years. Natasha knew her for that long and felt uncomfortable with this information.

"You've known me for eight years, we are dating for months now and you never thought to tell me?" Wanda's voice held a mix of betrayal and confusion.

Natasha, grappling with her own choices, responded, "I don't have a reasonable explanation, but believe me, I had planned to tell you."

Wanda, frustrated, demanded answers. "Why keep it a secret for so long? Why did it have to happen this way?"

"Because I was afraid of what your reaction was going to be! I was afraid that you would run off and leave once you knew the truth."

"That's not an excuse, at all! You were just protecting yourself but what about me? You have exposed me to something I have no knowledge about!" Wanda retorted sharply.

"I don't know how and when I was going to say it. I was scared, okay? You were the only good thing that is keeping me going and I don't want to lose you."

Silence.

An eerie silence stood between them and they try to comprehend what was going on at this present time. There's a lot to take in with everything that has just been said, and there is a lot more to tackle.

"What else do you want to tell me?" Wanda implored, eager to uncover every detail Natasha had to share.

Natasha hesitated before revealing, "Mom, Milena, mentioned that you and Pietro were leaving the orphanage for college. I knew it would be challenging as the education provided to you wouldn't meet university standards. So, I found a way to help both of you. I provided letters of recommendation to the universities you applied to. Pietro's went smoothly, but for your university, which had higher standards, I used every resource to ensure your acceptance including a sponsorship to them and it happened. I saw the potential in both of you so I helped."

Wanda couldn't believe what she was hearing. The college application she had diligently worked on was manipulated by someone else to guarantee her entry. She thought she had met every requirement, but now she realised she had been pushed into it without a hitch.

"Are you telling me this to appease me? That you're the reason my application was accepted? Am I supposed to find comfort in that?" Wanda's voice reflected a mix of confusion, frustration, and a sense of betrayal.

"I genuinely wanted to help. I had the means, so I did what I thought was right," Natasha quickly defended herself.

"So you're telling me this was all planned? To weave me into your life? For what? To be manipulated or played with just because you had the power to do it?" Wanda's voice conveyed a mix of disbelief and frustration.

"I'm not playing with you, Wanda."

"But I was a child back then, Natasha! You mean to tell me that you have been watching me since I moved into the orphanage?"

"No, that's not how it was. Whatever it is that you're trying to tell me or thinking is not it. There were no ulterior motives on my part. It was only when I was invited to your university as a guest speaker that I developed an interest in you. You have to believe me. Please." Natasha's explanation carried a sense of urgency, a plea for understanding in the midst of the chaos that had unfolded.

Another silence has enveloped two of them. Only Wanda's heavy breathing and Natasha's sighs echoed in the room.

"I didn't even know your name," Wanda whispered as she sat at the other end of the couch, her words loud enough for Natasha to hear.

"My name is Natalia Alianovna Romanova," Natasha conceded. There was no hiding it now that the truth had been unveiled about their situation.

"Your name is beautiful." Wanda's sincere words hung in the air. Natasha chose not to respond, uncertain about how their relationship would proceed after tonight.

"Feel free to rest on my bed; I'll take the couch. It's been a long day for both of us and you must be tired. Take some time for yourself. If you feel like talking more, we can do it in the morning, only if you're comfortable." Natasha extended the offer, hoping to further open herself to Wanda, one step at a time, as long as Wanda wanted to be with her.

Wanda rose from her seat, heading toward their room, seeking space. Both needed the distance to process what just happened. Wanda desperately wanted to believe in Natasha and her reasons, but her mind was clouded with anger, confusion, and betrayal. To top it all, she's having all these doubts. How could she be certain Natasha wasn't playing with her? Considering the lengths Natasha had gone for her, the possibility of manipulation loomed large.

Sleep was not in store for the two of them. Wanda ended up crying for hours, thinking about Natasha. She loves her so much but could not accept her explanations that easily. She has been bombarded with information however it felt inadequate somehow. This emotional distance was unfamiliar to Wanda, yet within it, she yearned for the comforting warmth Natasha had extended. The desire to crawl to Natasha, to feel the reassurance of her embrace, lingered strongly. But she can't let her longing betray her.

Meanwhile, Natasha decided to have a nightcap because she knew sleep wouldn't come easily. Her thoughts were all over the place, jumping between her past, present, and future. Amidst the uncertainties, one thing remained clear – she couldn't afford to lose Wanda. The younger woman had carved a meaningful space within Natasha, and the desire to keep her close was overwhelming. However, Natasha understood that she couldn't hold onto someone who might want to go. Even though her feelings were strong, Natasha realised that Wanda's well-being was more important than her own.

Natasha started at the moon, just like she used to do when she was younger and asked "Mom, will it get better?"

[ancientgreekyuri]

long (and yet unfinished...) summary of how Dia and Asterius' relationship developed from a currently hidden toyhouse page 💞

At first, Asterius didn't know what to make of Dianthus. Someone worthy of his king's attention must have been extraordinary, but in the beginning, Dianthus just seemed like a regulgar nymph to him. It was only when she openly declared to him "I refuse to be afraid of you; if Theseus trusts you, he must have a good reason for it." that he began to understand why the king held her in such high regard. Even so, at that point he was merely curious about her, and not much more.

Though the pair never held any animosity towards one another... but jealousy spurred between them all the same. Asterius was jealous of how Dianthus brought out Theseus' sweet, gentle, and loving side so easily. Dianthus was jealous of how Asterius could enable Theseus' prideful joy, and how he provided a sense of comfort and confidence both. This jealousy caused this relationship to be rather chaste in the beginning. Dianthus would always greet the bull kindly, and help him find books in Crete's linear language (a rarity even within the library of Elysium). They would spend time together with Theseus, but not on their own. This, for a time, was the full extent of their interaction with one another.

A day came where Dianthus was not her usual self, and it was Asterius who found her in this depressed state. He did not know how to comfort people, yet seeing her in such a way made him uneasy; Asterius decided to offer what little he could, even if it was just a shoulder to lean on. Dianthus confessed to him an insecurity that had been eating away at her; though Theseus was her fiance, she often felt as if Asterius was the one who made him happiest. Such words left Asterius in disbelief— did she not see the way Theseus' face lit up whenever she entered a room? How he would always rush to hold her when given the chance as if it were the last thing he'd ever do? Even just the way he looked at her, so full of warmth of love. How could she ever think such a thing?

But there was something about Theseus that Asterius hadn't noticed until then, as well. The way Theseus loved to have his hands on Asterius constantly, touching his muscles or his large hands. The way that Theseus always felt powerful after a shared victory, and how he would rush to tackle Asterius with a hug. The constant gifts and words of sweet affection, as well... Hearing such things from Dianthus' lips flustered him. He'd not thought about it that way. And Dianthus admitted the same; they both empowered the king in different ways. How funny it all was... to speak frankly about their feelings— and about the king— felt natural with one another. And so they each made a promise... whatever comes, they would not allow it to form into petty anger.

After having a chance to communicate with one another, things became easier. Asterius felt as if he could truly talk to Dianthus, and Dianthus felt very much the same. They began spending time together indepdently, and learned more about one another... Such as: Asterius discovered that Dianthus had a bit of a sweet-tooth, and was a very slow reader. He discovered that she had a tendency to keep fabric scraps and ribbons despite not being too skilled as a seamstress. He found that she was genuinely kind and sweet, and always considerate as well. He found that, as time went on, she became a larger and larger piece of his heart... When he watched Theseus plant a kiss on Dianthus' lips after a rousing spar, Asterius was surprised to find himself filled with an intense longing. He had already acknowledged (and accepted) his feelings towards Theseus, all while aware that nothing may come from them... but to be feeling such a way towards his fiance felt especially egregious.

It was nearly unendurable. Small things such as holding Dianthus' hand became an unbearable activity; he was afraid he'd let himself slip, and she'd know. Dianthus noticed him slowly growing more distant, and became unsure of herself.

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Adrift || Drabble

Fandom: Xmen

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 1444 Summary: My friend @shadowphoenixrider fell hard into the world of the Xmen thanks to a certain card-wielding Cajun and it got me speculating what my mutant powers would be and uh.. Meet Mutant Drifting I guess. -----------------------------------------------

There was only one thing you could be certain about at the mansion; weird things tended to happen almost daily. Maybe it was because of that truth that Gambit didn't really look up from his card trick at first when a seemingly floating t-shirt, pair of jeans and some shoes went on by. After the initial double take, red eyes set in black sclera followed the set as it wandered down the hall.

It genuinely seemed like something Morph would pull, but if that were the case they would have made some sort of comment about the look on Gambits face by now. And with Shadow popping out of the danger room, Gambit decided it was probably best to do something about this before these mystery clothes turned out to be something far less benevolent.

"Oi," the tone of his voice just sharp and authoritarian enough to make the unknown entity halt in its movement, "and where do you think you're going?"

"Well, the plan was to look for either Professor Xavier or the scientist around here- I guess you found me first. Didn't see you, there," a lower but still feminine sounding voice replied.

Curiosity got the better of him, which was the only reason Gambit hadn't thrown a charged card their way yet. He was however holding onto one, flitting it between the fingers of his hand in debate on what to do.

"Well, mind turning that invisibility thing of yours off before you do that? You're making people antsy; can’t let you do that on Diable Blanc’s watch."

"Yeah, uhm, that's kind of why I need either of those two."

Hm. Shooting Shadow a glance, it became clear to Gambit that both of them could wager a guess as to what that meant. Shadow also seemed to be staring at this invisible being as if trying to figure out something about it.

"... You don't know how to turn it off, do ya?" Gambit suggested, slightly amused by that turn of events.

"Right on the money, sir. I've got no clue; I've been like this for two days. Some help would be appreciated."

Raising an eyebrow, Gambit looked over at Shadow, who needed another moment to process that the Cajun was offering her up as a solution to this problem

"Chère?"

"Wh- no, thank you. I don't mess with mutant powers, who knows what'll happen."

"Fine. Gambit'll go fetch Rogue, then."

"Good- wait a minute, Rogue?" Shadow asked, immediately halting Gambit in his process of getting ready to leave, "that's quite the overkill option!"

"Do you want their powers off or not?"

"By putting them in a coma? Again, overkill much?!"

"What would ya have me do, punch their lights out instead?"

"No!! Look, can you just go find Charles, or Ha-"

In the middle of this argument, the air between the three people suddenly took on the faintest hint of sulfur; it was the only warning anyone had before Kurt popped into view, having teleported himself over from wherever he had been previously standing. A startled yelp of 'Jesus Christ!' was all that left the invisible one, and as soon as it had left their mouth the spell seemed to have been broken as everything about them reappeared all at once.

It revealed a tall ish, pale woman with wine red hair and green eyes, who was now observing her hands with quiet awe and surprise as she genuinely hadn't seen them in at least forty eight hours.

"Oh, hey, I can see my hands again."

"You can thank me by not using blasphemy this early in the morning, Fraulein," Kurt responded with an easy smile. "Noted. I was raised in a harbor town, I apologize in advance for all the times I will end up being blasphemous."

"Ohh," Shadow chimed in, "it's a startle response. Interesti- Wait. Miranda?!"

"Sup?" 'Miranda' casually responded, throwing up a peace sign as she shifted her weight to her other leg. With her now visible, Gambit took another moment to really take her in. She had somewhat of a pear-shaped body and stood high on her legs, but she was definitely shorter than him. If he had to wager a guess she was somewhere between six to seven inches shorter than him, probably closer to seven. Crossing her arms over her chest, Miranda had an attitude about her as if she shook off a lot of things as they came to her; she didn't seem that perturbed by the looks of either Gambit or Kurt for starters. "You know her, chère?" "Yeah, she's my friend, she works in catering at my old job."

"Worked," Miranda corrected, running her thumb over the edge of her middle fingernail to check it for any dents, "they don't exactly like it when you no show for two days with no explanation, but I couldn't exactly explain 'well I don't know where my limbs went for starters' without being clocked as weird, in serious life threatening danger or possibly a mutant- not even necessarily in that order."

"Pardon me, anyway," Kurt politely interjected as he actually needed the answer to his question, "Gambit, are the two of us still on for that mission tonight?" "Yes, mon ami. Don't keep me waiting, now." "I never do," and with that he left as quickly as he had appeared. Miranda startled once more at the teleportation, her invisibility immediately clicking back on in response. It brought a groan out of her that seemed to come from the deepest recesses of her soul. Shadow just blinked, as Gambit desperately tried to keep himself from laughing at her predicament... and failed. Shadow immediately started shoving at him to get him to move instead of laughing at her friend. "Will you just go get our doctor, Cajun?!" With now just the two of them left, Shadow watched as just the set of clothes leaned on the nearest corridor wall with a sigh. Well, that certainly was an interesting set of abilities and turn of events. And then there was also the matter of... "So, what happened? The first time, you know, where you turned..?"

"The cabinet where I hold my kitchenware decided to give up on life at like, three am. Scared me half to death but as soon as I figured it was just something in my apartment that broke and, you know, not some intruder I went back to sleep intending on dealing with whatever it was the next morning. Next morning comes, and all I see when I tossed a look in my wardrobe mirror is my pajamas looking back with me. For a second I wonder if I got down with a bout of fucking vampirism, only to then realise I don't see my hands, or really anything but my clothes when I look down either. And then I figured it's probably some superpower thing and I'm better off looking for someone to fix it." "And your first instinct was to find the X-men Mansion?!" "It was that or Stark Tower; I decided to try my luck with the building least likely to vaporize me with its home security system as soon as I step on the porch."

"You're incredibly lucky Logan isn't here, then. That said; Gambit got close."

"Then I'll thank him for not vaporizing me on the spot when he gets back." Despite not being able to see her, Shadow swore she could feel that Miranda was staring at her trying to figure something out. It's not exactly easy to shake the feeling that someone is watching you, whether visible or not. "What?" "You, and Gambit?" "Are just friends," Shadow immediately snapped in return, frowning at the light scoff coming from her invisible friend. "Uhuh." "Don't you take that tone with me when it took less than five seconds of you being visible to see that you were looking at Nightcrawler." "Lord forbid the plush toy granted sentience piques my interest in any way." "Look," Shadow replied exasperated, "How about we both stop talking about this for a while?!" "Deal." What was meant to be a pleasant silence was quickly interrupted when Gambit reappeared, somehow without Beast in tow to which Shadow frowned. "Gambit, I thought I told you to-" "Not to worry!" the voice of Beast coming from up high and behind Miranda, startling her back to visible as she had her attention pointed the opposite way to Shadow and Gambit, "I am here to offer assistance." "I told him to sneak up on her, it seems to work," Gambit dryly remarked. "Fucking hell, there's got to be an easier way to turn me back than this!"