#hard to find him mad. he seems like the kind to be loud and expressive even when angry

[purple-raspberries]

Assorted Howdys (Howdies? Howdys.) with expressions. I like his face :)c

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, momentary mean! Steve, established relationship, lil bit of angst, PIV sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, hate sex turned make up sex WC:2.2K

A/N: Why not? Enjoy!

"So we're still fighting, huh?", Steve narrows his eyes at you from the kitchen entry way.

He's a picture of disarray — shirt misbuttoned, belt buckle in need of fastening, tie draped loosely over his shoulders and hair a wild, mussed up mess.

His unruly state came to be as a result of forgetting to set his alarm after your heated exchange last night, waking to find he was running late for work and you hadn't bothered to rouse him like you usually would have.

His sarcastic barb goes seemingly unheard though when you refuse to look up from the dishes you're scrubbing in the sink, back still turned to him even though the crumbs from your breakfast of blueberry jam on toast have long been washed clean from your plate.

It was a disagreement blown out of proportion that had caused the friction between you two. Steve had hoped sleeping it off would help to cool your tempers enough to reconcile in the morning but now that seems as likely as him making it to work on time.

Or was it?

He sighs, a clear note of irritation coming through because he should be digging through the laundry basket in search of his socks before he tries to shove his feet inside his shoes without them again in his rush, not rooted in place, eyes dark and stony but taking you in.

Of course you'd try to give him blue balls on top of it all too.

He grits his teeth as he stares at you in your too short satin robe, every inch of your legs and thighs on display as the hem hangs high, just a few inches below the swell of your ass. Practically dangling yourself in front of him.

He enters the kitchen then and though it feels risky approaching you the way that he does, he recognizes that the air's thick with a familiar kind of tension when he comes up behind you.

Quickly and none too gently, he rucks up your robe to confirm a suspicion he'd been harboring. He finds you're nude underneath the thin, silky layer when you allow him just a glimpse, swatting his hand away with a look sharper than a knife's edge when your eyes connect with his over your shoulder.

But Steve knows better than to take it seriously. There's no ire behind your glare — no unspoken threat meant to make him retreat. You're still mad, sure, he can feel the heat radiating off of you just as it's made his own skin warm but your expression softens just enough to confirm that what you really want is for him to come closer. And that's exactly what he does.

You feel the warmth of Steve's chest pressing against your back when you turn to the sink once more, his arms caging you in place, leaving you no room to escape. The water continues to run until he closes the faucet too, leaning down to whisper into your ear. "This how you want to solve it?", he asks, pulling his hand back to lift your robe again only this time you don't attempt to thwart him, letting him cup your ass and squeeze your soft skin. Hard.

The heat of last night's fight had died down to a simmer but it left you both burning in a different, much more familiar way as you answer him.

"Yeah. This is how I want to do it", you utter loud enough for him to hear you clearly though this close together, there's nothing he can miss no matter how softly you might whisper it.

The sound of his belt coming undone has you buzzing beneath your skin while you brace yourself, curling your fingers under the edge of the countertop as Steve finishes pulling out his girthy cock. But before he even attempts to get it anywhere near your entrance he holds out his palm to you, knowing that he doesn't need to ask for you to spit into it, something that feels instinctual now at this stage in your relationship as he draws it back and slicks up his cock with your saliva.

With his length coated in a warm, glossy mixture of your spit and his precum, Steve doesn't keep you waiting for long, your legs parting to help with easing the tip of his cock in.

"Does it hurt?", he asks and while it might sound like he's only concerned about you, you can hear the heat still present in his veins.

"A little", You answer with a little heat of your own, no intention of asking him to stop.

"Good. I know you can take it", he tells you, all thorns and shit eating grins.

It doesn't happen as easily as when you two take the time to engage in foreplay first, your body usually opening up to accept him once he's gotten you ready with his tongue or fingers but this time Steve manages to notch his tip by your hole and breach you once it pops inside with a little effort, the rest of him slowly sinking inch by inch into your velvet heat.

Despite the wetness that smears your inner thighs, your whole body tenses and you have to breathe through it, pain marrying pleasure while you're being stretched open, hissing under your breath when he reaches his base. He spends a few seconds all the way inside you, just feeling you wrap around him and squeeze, your walls pulsing when he decides that's as soft as he'll allow himself to be with you today.

And he proves it when he begins pulling himself out, only to grit his teeth and drive himself back in again, making you squeal instantly, getting you thoroughly acquainted with the feeling and the force of every thrust as his pelvis bounces against your ass.

Steve so rarely ever fucks you like this and you're so caught up in taking his cock that you barely notice the way he reaches up to pull the front of your robe open too, realizing what he's done when he finds your nipples and begins to pinch and tug on them, smirking when it draws a high pitched whimper out of you as your steady breathing turns to shallow pants.

But you're not some delicate flower type. You're not one to be so compliant and let him ruin you so easily. So while Steve's busy fondling your chest you're quick to even the score when you grab hold of his right hand, lifting it up to your mouth so you can sink your teeth into the soft skin between his thumb and his wrist.

The pained hiss turned groan he lets out despite himself is a small victory but a sweet one nonetheless, enough to make you smile around his throbbing hand before deciding to remove your teeth from him, making sure to scoff at him all smug as he rubs at the little red teeth marks left behind on his tan skin.

Of course he takes it as well as a throatful of glass, considering the act a challenge for more.

Steve offers you one small moment of respite, slowly pulling almost all the way out, making sure his swollen tip remains inside you while you sigh, only to make you choke on a moan when he pushes all the way inside again in a single hard thrust, punching the air out of you.

You wanted to retaliate again, maybe reach behind to sink your nails into his thigh, scraping at his skin until narrow lines or blood rise to the surface or even rip at the clothes that hang on him in his state of half undress but you're unable to follow through this time with how he's managed to rattle you.

Steve's far too pleased to feel your elbows start to shake as your arms struggle to keep you up at this point, set on making your knees wobble too just so he can gloat about it later when you find it difficult to pick yourself up off the kitchen floor and walk away once he's done with you.

Slowly, Steve withdraws again, glee lighting up his eyes when he pushes back in with the same force of that first sharp thrust and this time you fail to stop a short scream from ripping out of your throat, back arching from how well and hard he's pressing against that spot deep inside you.

"Something you wanna say, sweetheart?", he sneers and taunts, pleased when you struggle to put together a coherent sentence while trying to endure his unforgiving pace. "Spit it out before I stop being so nice."

You muster what you can and manage to whimper it out, feeling so worn out though you haven't even reached your climax yet.

"Cum inside me. Please", you tell him — beg him, fingers turning cold and numb from how hard your grasping the countertop.

He's nothing short of cocky when he hears you whine all desperate and spent, a smug sense of accomplishment washing over him when he sees the thick coating of slick and cream you've left on his cock as he watches it withdraw and disappear inside you one harsh thrust after the other.

And then you tell him the rest.

"M—miss you when you're gone. Need to —ngh. Need to feel you in me when you're not here", you manage to string the words together before letting out a sound that's somewhere between a gasp and a whine, the kind he'll think about later on his own, working himself up until he's got no choice but to pry it out of you again.

But this isn't one of those moments, no matter how much he'd liked the sounds falling from your parted, panting lips.

Steve loses his rhythm before he stills completely inside you, your words sinking in like nails piercing his skin.

This was it. The crux of last night's argument.

You missed Steve. He'd been working too hard lately and you'd grown concerned. With the stress of his job and the little sleep he'd had he'd grown defensive and you'd gotten irritated, both of you clashing when you should have been listening and working together.

When he had woken up this morning Steve had cooled down enough to know he'd been unfair to you the night before. He was usually the type to talk things out but he'd gotten swept up in how things happened to pan out today, wrapping an arm around you tenderly, the hand you'd bitten placed over your thumping heart. He nuzzles his chin onto your shoulder to get closer to you, the stubble he'd been unable to shave this morning scratching against your skin gently as he whispers into your ear with so much sincerity.

"I'm sorry— I'm so sorry."

The sound of him all earnest and ragged makes you melt in his hold because you know how much he means it — you can practically feel how much he means it as it sinks into your skin and reaches into your ribcage.

Like Steve, you would have been open to talking it out had this been a regular fight. This particular fight however had you dumping more fuel on to the fire that roared between you because it required more than just words to resolve everything. It needed more than swapped apologies for the two of you to make amends and return back to normal.

You really needed to fuck it out. All teeth and nails and sore, spent bodies.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too", you answer, a smile growing on your parted, panting lips. "Now fuck me, will you?"

It catches Steve off guard enough to make him snort, thankful that the worst of your fight is behind you now as he starts to pick up the pace again, firm but also tender with the way his lips move against your neck and his fingers brush and roll at your nipples.

"Going to make it up to you, baby. Gonna be around more. Gonna be here for you, okay?", he pants against your skin, all gravelly groans and grunts with his nails digging into the skin on your waist.

You moan out his name, using what little strength you feel you have left to push yourself back to meet his thrusts. "Steve, oh fuck... I'm so close. I need you— I fucking need you, please."

He snaps his hips against your ass again, drawing out a blissful shudder out of you. "Gonna make it all right but until then—", you feel him draw away from you a little bit then, his hands leaving your body as you realize that he's going through his pockets.

With his cock still buried inside you and throbbing, he pulls out his phone and begins dialing, his thrusts commencing again, steady and deep enough to make your whole body draw tight, your release within reach.

"Try to keep it down while I call in sick, okay? Gonna have you all to myself today. Promise I'll keep you nice and full— gonna look so beautiful when you're dripping with me..."

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: No matter what Bradley did, you seemed frustrated with him. You needed a new car, but you needed to start communicating with him even more. He was scrambling to try to fix everything, but it was hard when you could barely stay awake for a conversation.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, pregnancy topics, angst

Length: 5900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

When nearly a week had gone by, and you still wouldn't focus on picking out a new car for yourself, Bradley was starting to get frustrated. Sharing the Bronco with you wasn't a big deal. You respected it and treated it well, but he had to play nice when you wanted to use it to go to brunch on Sunday with Cam and Maria at the same time he wanted to play golf.

"Can't Jake pick you up?" you asked him with an annoyed sigh. "I'll text him and ask if he can come get you."

"Why can't Cam or Maria pick you up?" he asked, feeling kind of fucking fed up with you at the moment. 

"Fine," you replied, an eerily calm expression taking over your face. "I'll have one of them pick me up for brunch in the morning. Don't worry about it."

You turned on your heel and walked back to the bedroom leaving Bradley raking his fingers through his hair. He had finally started to feel normal again after having your parents at the house for a few days. It's not like they were even loud or inconsiderate, but he just struggled a bit with it anyway. He wasn't used to closing the bedroom door knowing Tramp liked to wander around the house at all hours of the day and night. He liked to take a piss with the bathroom door open, and he liked to randomly reach up under your shirt when you were in the kitchen if you welcomed it. And he just couldn't do any of that with other people in the house, even though it was family. 

"Fuck," he mumbled. It wasn't even a big deal for you to take the Bronco to brunch. Jake or Javy could easily get him on their way to the golf course, and now he needed to go apologize to you. But the bedroom door was closed when he got there, and he immediately felt like he needed to be touching you, because you were literally the only person who could be in his personal space all day long and not usually annoy him in the slightest. 

When he turned the knob, he was relieved to find it wasn't locked. "Baby Girl?" he called out cautiously, and then he found you in the bathroom. "Shit," he whispered, watching you wipe your eyes before turning toward the mirror, but there was no way to hide from him in here. "I'm sorry."

"Could you just leave me alone?" you asked without looking at him.

The words caused him physical pain, because that was the last thing he wanted right now. He'd gotten used to how much better everything was recently, and he was absolutely unwilling to stop communicating with you. "Can we talk about it? About a car? We could buy one tomorrow if you pick one out."

You turned and snapped at him. "Maybe next time just don't fuck up the one I already have!"

He had apologized to you countless times. He'd given your shit car a eulogy. He had offered to buy you any car you found that you wanted, but now he was just as mad as you were. "I just wanted to tell you that you can use the Bronco tomorrow."

"How generous," you replied sarcastically. "But I already told you I'll get a ride from Cam or Maria. Now would you please leave me alone?"

Bradley nodded and retreated back to the living room couch with Tramp, because he didn't know what else to do. He stretched out and decided to look at cars until you resurfaced to make dinner. There were two huge dealerships in San Diego that had the current model year of your old car, and they both had them stocked in several colors with different options available. You could get a new red one with a sunroof and gray interior just like you had before. He'd upgrade the stereo package to make riding in it less painful for him, but he'd buy it right now if you said it's what you wanted. 

As he thought back to the way you dragged your feet about wedding planning, he muttered a string of obscenities. At this rate, he'd be sharing the Bronco with you for a long time. He bookmarked a bunch of new cars, and then he searched all over the country to see if anyone was selling an exact replica of the one he totaled. A few hours later, it occurred to him that you never came back out of the bedroom. He scooped up Tramp where he'd fallen asleep on his chest and carried him back down the hallway. 

You were sound asleep in bed, curled up on your side, breathing softly. Bradley checked the time again. It was only 7:15, but maybe you just needed to rest. He tucked the covers up around your shoulders and kissed your forehead before venturing back out to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich before working out.

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

By the middle of the week, you were aggressively annoyed by everything, but mostly Bradley's voice. On Sunday, Cam picked you up for brunch even though Bradley told you a million times you could use the Bronco. You didn't even want to use the Bronco. He could use it all day long. And then you went back to Cam's place and lounged on his couch until you were starting to get hungry for dinner. If Bradley wondered why you were out for a six hour brunch, he didn't ask. 

But when he eventually called your phone, you asked Cam to drive you home. "Your husband is like a twelve out of ten," he murmured as he drove you. "Don't be mean to him." Then you climbed out of his car onto your driveway and rolled your eyes, because after that he was getting on your nerves, too.

So on Monday and Tuesday, you just avoided Bradley as much as you could at work after driving in with him, but on Wednesday, as he pulled into the parking garage, he cleared his throat. "Hard Deck tonight?"

"You can go," you replied as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "You can take the Bronco, and I'll just stay home." You bit your lip immediately as you said the words, because you felt like crying. You couldn't understand what was wrong with you as tears burned your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was skip a fun night out. You also didn't know why you couldn't commit to a car. Everything felt like too much the last few days, and you wanted to scream.

"Can we talk about this?" Bradley asked, his voice pleading with you, but you didn't even know what to say. 

"Later," you told him before heading for the building, but he was right behind you, undeterred.

"Don't give me that later bullshit. We've been talking and communicating a lot better, and I absolutely refuse to stop doing either of those things!"

You spun around so fast, he almost collided with you. "I have a meeting with Bickel, okay? About Annapolis. And it starts in twenty minutes. And I'm tired. And I miss my car. And I need to go."

After that, you weren't sure if he followed you or not, because you didn't turn around to check. When you got to your office and opened your computer, you saw the calendar reminder that made more tears cloud your vision. You cradled your forehead in your hand. Saturday was Carole Bradshaw's birthday. 

The fact that you forgot it was coming up was worrying, because you couldn't let work take over your life again like it had in the past. You'd been mentally planning to make another fancy dinner to celebrate her day, the way you had for both of Bradley's parents' birthdays last year. Filet mignon and crab cakes and brownies. 

Fuck. You wanted to sit alone in your office and cry all morning, but now you had four minutes until you had to sit down with your boss. You pulled yourself together the best you could and made your way to talk to Bickel. Cat was there too, and you could feel her intense gaze on you as if she was physically touching you. You knew she could tell something was on your mind, but you sat as calmly as you could and looked through the folder of information that was given to you. 

Bickel folded his hands on his desk and said, "I'm letting the two of you decide how you'd like to present our work in Annapolis. I'm trying to finalize some dates for us, but it's looking like the first week of August. This would add two million dollars to our pending budget for next year, which would give us the opportunity to explore an even more advanced comms system. And it would be a great way for me to push for your promotion, Lieutenant Coleman."

"Yes, Sir," Cat replied immediately. When you were both dismissed, she took you by the arm out in the hallway and whispered, "Please, I need you to focus on this for me. Okay? Why do you look like you're on the verge of tears?"

"I'm having a bad week," you whispered, still unsure why you felt like this. Your fingers were tingling, and you were so anxious, you were about to walk yourself to see Dr. Genevieve. But you hadn't eaten breakfast, and it was almost lunchtime now after Bickel kept you so long. "I need lunch," you told Cat, and she sighed and walked down to the cafeteria with you.

Part of you wanted to see Bradley, but part of you did not. And something about the idea of a burrito bowl was turning your stomach just looking at it. You picked out a sandwich and some soup and found a spot at a table that was completely empty except for Bob. 

"Hi," you said softly, and he looked up from his notebook with a smile as you slid into the seat across from him. 

"Hi," he replied in his sweet voice that immediately made you feel calmer. "I actually was hoping to see you to thank you again. Maria has been really accommodating about me moving in, and this way I don't have to commute into the city every day."

You waved him off as you tried a spoonful of the flavorless soup. "I'm just happy it worked out. For both of you. I didn't want Maria to have some creep move in since she couldn't find anyone else. And obviously you're just lovely, Bob."

He visibly bristled a bit. "No, she shouldn't have to deal with a creepy roommate."

Then Jake dropped down in the seat next to yours and turned to smile as Cat sat on his other side. "Angel. What the hell are you doing to Rooster now?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, looking around, but your husband and Nat were still in line for food. 

"He's fucking miserable today. Cranky as hell. And I know for a fact nothing can set that man off the way you can. It's honestly pretty funny, but he did snap at me three times. It's like dealing with Hondo all over again."

"Sorry," you heard Cat mutter as she ate her lunch.

You gripped your spoon in your hand and took a deep breath, but all you could say was, "I don't know." You truly didn't know what was going on. Your brain was in a constant fog, and you felt so antsy. 

Bradley sat across the table from you, eyeing you carefully from his spot next to Bob. You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but you didn't know if it came across that way when he just looked sadder. 

"Who's coming to the bar tonight?" Nat asked loudly.

After Jake and Cat agreed to go, you quietly said, "Not me. I have to catch up on some things I was supposed to read, but I'll drop Bradley off for the night."

Your husband shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but Nat was already squeezing his shoulder. "Sounds good," she said, and after that, he sat quietly. 

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

Bradley flew all afternoon, and it was bad. Just really, very bad. He was distracted, and the fact that Javy had to keep repeating himself was about to earn Bradley a lecture from Maverick if he didn't pull it together. But you were just making him so sad, and he had no idea why you were currently barely able to look at him without crying or yelling. 

He hadn't even done anything. Had he? Yeah, he'd completely destroyed your beloved car, but the visit with your parents had gone pretty well. He hadn't missed any important dates of anniversaries. He'd been keeping up with his chores at home. 

You'd been running a bit hot and cold in the bedroom. He'd never push you for more than you wanted to do, but then perhaps he hadn't been good for you recently? The mere thought had him squirming and sweating in his cockpit as he followed Javy into a dive. Shit. Could that be it? He always got you off. Except that he knew he hadn't in the family bathroom at the Padres game, but you and he had been in a rush. And that night last week when you started yawning while you rode him, he distinctly remembered you saying it didn't matter if you came since you were so tired.

Shit. Things had been going great, he didn't realize what he'd been doing, and now he had to figure out how to fix it when you seemed so disinterested in talking to him. As he brought his jet back down to the tarmac he tried to come up with a plan, but he felt helpless. These were the times he felt like having a mother of his own would come in handy, because he couldn't exactly take this to your mom. 

"Fuck." He wrenched his helmet off and ran his fingers through his hair. You were sending him off to the bar alone tonight to get him out of your space, he could tell. So maybe the best thing he could do right now was just follow your lead. 

After he showered and headed for the parking garage, he found you leaning against the side of the Bronco waiting for him. "Hi, Sweetheart," he said, leaning down to kiss you softly.

Your quiet response of, "Hi, Roo," made him feel a lot better, and you let him buckle you in, which was great. But then you said, "I'll just drop you off at the bar later and come back for you. I have some things I want to get done."

He nodded. "Sure. Whatever you want." 

Back at home, he was able to coax you onto his lap for dinner at the dining room table, and even though it was a quiet affair, he didn't mind. He just rubbed his hand up and down your back, and eventually you sank back against him even though you'd only had a few bites of food. You were practically asleep on him as he finished eating, but you jolted up when his phone vibrated against your hip.

"It's probably just Nat," he whispered, and you nodded as you checked the time. 

"I'll drop you off whenever you're ready, and I'll come back for you around ten?"

He cupped your perfect cheek in one hand and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to come? I can help you get caught up with work tomorrow or this weekend. I'm a pretty good helper."

You cracked the tiniest smile as you said, "I'm just not in the mood. You go and drink and have fun, and I'll come back for you."

He kissed your cheek. "I'll be waiting, ready to come home with you whenever you get there."

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

When Bradley climbed out of the Bronco, you watched him head inside the bar. He was wearing his white and yellow floral print shirt, part of the matching set that he'd bought for the two of you, and he looked so sexy, you were thrumming with need. You were all over the place. A few days ago, the mere sight of him had you ready to climb out the window, and now you were on the verge of chasing him down to fuck you.

"Get a grip. My god," you moaned as you pulled back onto the road. At least now you could go to the store and purchase everything you'd need to make Carole's birthday dinner in peace. 

The store was quiet, which was great, because you didn't currently know if something was about to set you off. You grabbed a cart, and the cool metal against your hands felt nice. A smile found its way to your face as you listened to Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac playing throughout the store and picked out some beautiful looking steaks. Then you found everything for the crab cakes and the brownies, and you got a bottle of expensive champagne. 

You were already feeling better now, almost excited to celebrate the mother-in-law that you'd never had the privilege of meeting. She deserved a special day and a fancy dinner, because even though you didn't know her personally, you were absolutely certain Carole Bradshaw was incredible. The sparkle of your engagement ring caught your eye, and you stood in front of the wine and champagne and sobbed quietly until you felt like you could continue shopping. 

It had to be the combination of work and her birthday and your car that was setting you off. No matter how bad it made you feel, you'd pick out a new car this weekend. You knew there was enough in your savings account for a down payment, so you just had to force yourself to bite the bullet. You'd do it for Bradley and for yourself. 

While you unpacked the groceries, you made a sandwich, finally hungry again after you'd barely been able to eat dinner. But that started to make you too full after just half of it. "Don't tell Daddy," you whispered before feeding it to Tramp. 

Then you sat at the island and read through the folder from Bickel. You had weeks of research and planning ahead of you, but it would be worth it for the grant money. Cat was a solid gold choice as a partner for this, especially since she was motivated by that promotion she wanted. You were excited, but realistically so. You needed to make sure you didn't overdo things this time around. You could rely on Cat as much as yourself, and you knew that now.

When you checked the time on your phone, it was already 10:30. You texted Bradley and let him know you'd be there soon. When you started the Bronco, you got a text back.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: Can't wait for you to take me home.

You smiled and sang on your way there, already feeling better about having everything for Carole's birthday dinner ready to go. You parked the Bronco and headed inside, twirling Bradley's keyring on your fingers. As soon as you pushed the door open, the wave of noise hit you, and you made a beeline for the pool table. Penny's summer drink specials must have been on point, because the place was packed.

Just when you were trying to squeeze between two massive guys, you caught sight of Bradley just in time to see a woman walk up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. Maybe he thought it was you at first, because he spun to face her with a smile on his face. You got jostled around a little bit as your steps faltered and came to a stop. Bradley was conversing a bit with her now, although his smile was gone, and you watched as she reached up with her perfectly manicured nails and dragged them along his paper airplane tattoo on his bicep.

"Oh, hell no," you gasped, registering that Bradley looked surprised, and not in a good way. But you were frozen to the spot now as disgust, embarrassment and jealousy washed over you. It wasn't like he wasn't wearing his wedding band. He was. How was that not enough? You couldn't decide if you wanted to run away or rip her head off.

Bradley immediately started to back away from her, shaking his head as he went, and then his gaze connected with yours. He mouthed your name, and you could see the concern on his face as you swallowed hard. Instead of running away, you stood there like an idiot when he came rushing in your direction.

"Sweetheart," he said, reaching for your hand, his eyes on yours. 

"Who's your friend?" you asked. Your voice sounded like it belonged to someone else while your throat burned. 

You let him wrap one big hand around your back and pull you closer, holding you there. "No idea. Never saw her before thirty seconds ago."

"I didn't like her touching you."

His eyebrow quirked up as his hand dipped a little lower. "Neither did I. Especially since I got the tattoo for you, Baby Girl."

You had your arms around his neck instantly, the other woman forgotten as you kissed your husband. He tasted like your favorite beer, and you whimpered. But your body felt somehow both too tender and too needy pressed up against him as you said, "It's for me. Mine. Let's go home."

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

Bradley let you drive since he'd had a fair amount to drink. That fucking woman just about ruined his night by asking him what he was drinking and then touching his arm, feigning interest in his unique tattoo. The past week had already felt like touch and go with you, and he was unwilling to make it worse. He still wasn't quite sure how to get things back to where they had been just a short time ago. 

When you parked in the driveway in the spot where you used to park your car, he almost winced. But you crawled over to his lap and started to unbutton his shirt. "Take me to bed," you told him, rubbing yourself on him through his jeans. 

He grunted in response, carrying you up to the porch and wrestling with his key in the lock as you kissed his neck. Clothing was discarded along the way, and when he got you in the bedroom with the soft lamplight illuminating your skin, he moaned. 

"Jesus Christ, you're a dream."

Truly, your tits had never looked better, and somehow the aroused looking little scowl you were shooting his way was really working him up as you shimmied your jeans down your legs. He was hard when you finally pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top. 

"I love you," he promised as your lips met his, and you sank down around his length. Warm and wet and perfect. Holy shit, you felt incredible as you rolled your hips slowly, his hands settling at your waist. You were velvety smooth everywhere. The only thing he wanted. 

He held your hips in his hands and thrust up into you as his lips met your nipple. You moaned as he licked you, but as soon as he sucked hard, pulling you between his lips, you gasped. So he did it again and again, but your hips stilled and your hands left his shoulders and reached for his cheeks.

"It hurts," you gasped, pushing his face away from your chest. "Stop."

He let his head settle back on the pillow. "Sorry." Tentatively, he brought his hand up to your left breast and gave you a nice squeeze, but you pulled away further. Then you were kneeling next to him with your arms crossed over your chest. "Sorry," he repeated. "But I always touch you that way?"

You burst into tears and said, "It just hurts."

And that was the last thing you said to him for the night as you crawled under the covers. As soon as Bradley got his erection under control by pacing around the bathroom, he walked back to the bed to find you sound asleep.

On Thursday and Friday, you didn't even acknowledge it. When he asked if it was okay if he touched you on Thursday morning, you went willingly into his arms as the toaster popped out your breakfast. And on Friday morning, you let him snuggle with you a little bit before you got out of bed, so at least he was fairly convinced you weren't too mad at him. But he just knew he hadn't been doing enough for you in bed which really pissed him off. 

He was older than everyone else around him seemingly all the time, and now he was feeling insecure about it again. If he could just manage to get you to have a real conversation with him, then he'd try to fix this. But you were busy with work, something else that had a red flag shooting up in the back of his mind. No, he was not going to fuck this all up yet again. You and he had something special, and he was going to demand a conversation. 

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

You poked at your lunch on Friday as Jake and Bradley argued next to you in the cafeteria. You were barely able to pay attention to them, because you were so tired, and you had another meeting with Bickel in an hour. As far as you could tell, you were getting the flu, which seemed weird for July, but nothing else made sense. 

No matter how much you slept, you were exhausted. Your body was aching, and you were so damn moody. You'd practically accosted Bradley on Wednesday after you picked him up from the bar, but then you fell asleep as soon as you told him your breasts hurt. You felt embarrassed now as you looked at him next to you, because after all of that, you didn't even let him finish that night. 

As you adjusted your shirt, you could have screamed at how tender your nipples were. At least it was Friday. You could catch up on reading for your presentation research, and then you could sleep. 

"Come on, Rooster," Jake complained. "You have to come tomorrow. I'll leave the hard seltzers at home, and Javy and I will behave."

Bradley turned to look at you with big, brown eyes before he told Jake, "No. No golf tomorrow. I have some things I need to take care of." Then he turned back toward you and softly said, "We're talking tomorrow. About a bunch of stuff. Until we are sorted out."

Now you felt guilty as Jake shot you a look. "We can talk tomorrow afternoon, Roo. Go play golf."

"Yeah, Bradshaw," Jake piped up. "Angel said you can do shit with her in the afternoon. So you'll come with Bob, Javy and I? You know Reuben sucks at golf. He's even worse than you."

"Go," you told Bradley, kissing the edge of his mustache before you stood. "Yes, Jake, he will be golfing tomorrow. I plan on sleeping in, and the quiet house will be nice."

Bradley reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he looked up at you. "I love you."

You nodded. "I love you, too. I need to go get ready for a meeting." His eyes were on your body as you walked away, but you needed to focus on work right now. 

It was all you could do to go back to Bickel's office with Cat and not fall asleep in his soft leather chair. Your boss's calm voice and the warm room were almost too much for your senses. You were fighting with yourself to keep your eyes open. Fighting with everything you had to stay engaged. An hour went by and then two, and he was still talking, and so was Cat, and they kept asking you for input. You were clinging to your extensive knowledge on the subject matter and hoping for the best when Bickel's desk phone rang, and he finally dismissed you. 

"This is so exciting," Cat gushed out in the cooler hallway. "I was telling Jake last night that you and I are going to have the best presentation at the Naval Academy next month, and do you know what he said?"

"Hmm?" you hummed as you walked to the lab.

"He offered to watch Jeremiah!"

"Oh." You hadn't even really considered how hard it would be for Cat to go to Maryland with you, but this was probably a big deal. Jeremiah wasn't even two yet. "Wow. Look at Jake being an exceptional boyfriend. Good thing I pushed the two of you to actually communicate with each other."

Cat laughed and hugged you before entering the lab, but you cringed. Communication. You'd talk to Bradley tomorrow afternoon. You'd pick a car tomorrow afternoon. But when you got home today, you were going to take your temperature and then get in bed. 

You had to wait by the Bronco for such a long time, you contemplated texting Bradley to see what the holdup was. It was late, you were actually starving, and you wanted to go home. You shifted your bag from one shoulder to the other, beyond annoyed that there was only one key to this thing; you couldn't even sit inside. You glared at the pretty blue paint, really missing your ugly red car with your whole heart when you heard boots pounding the pavement behind you.

"I'm so sorry, Baby Girl," Bradley gasped. He must have run the whole way here from the tarmac since he was still in his flight suit. "We ran over. I should have left the keys with you this morning. I"m sorry."

You nodded as he helped you in the passenger side door and buckled you in. "Okay."

He pulled out of the parking garage, glancing at you every few seconds. "All you're going to say is okay?"

You yawned wishing you could get undressed. "What do you want me to say, Bradley?"

He was quiet for a few blocks, but when he turned down your street, he let loose. "I want you to say something more than okay. I want you to fucking talk to me, alright? I feel like everything I'm doing right now is making you mad at me, and I hate that. I fucking hate it." He hit the brakes a little hard in the driveway, and now you were alert as you started crying. 

"Fuck!" Bradley growled, hands gripping the steering wheel. "I'm sorry." He looked so upset right now, you didn't even know what to do as tears streamed down your cheeks. Then he was running across the driveway and helping you out of the Bronco and into the house, but the tears kept coming. And now your head was throbbing and you felt so sick. 

"I just want to go to bed," you gasped. "Please," you begged as he kissed your forehead over and over again while Tramp jumped around. 

"Of course," Bradley whispered, his lips meeting your face again before he knelt in front of you. He kissed your thighs through your khaki pants and helped you out of your boots, looking up at your face which you were sure looked like a wreck. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I yelled." 

"It's okay," you managed as the room spun a little bit. "I just need to get in bed."

He carried you there, and it felt amazing to not have to walk. Then he set you on the bed and undressed you as he asked, "Do you want some water? A snack?"

You nodded and got under the covers, and said, "Yes, please," as you started to doze off. All you managed to do was eat a handful of trail mix and chug a glass of water before you passed out. 

When you eventually woke up, you felt a little better, but when you rolled over, the other half of the bed was empty and cold. It was eight in the morning according to your phone. You'd just slept for over twelve hours, and Bradley was out playing golf now. The cool fabric of his pillow on your face felt so nice, you rolled over all the way. You must have a fever and the flu. You felt too hot, and your breasts were aching. So was your abdomen. Your period was probably about to start. 

You frowned and looked at your phone again, opening the calendar app. It was Carole's birthday, but it was apparently also five weeks since you'd had your period. "Oh my god." You practically fell out of the bed, your legs tangling up in the sheets as you tried to get to your feet. 

"Oh shit," you gasped, running for the bathroom. You didn't know what to do first, but your stomach won as you lunged for the toilet and threw up everything in your stomach. "Gross," you groaned as you flushed the toilet, but as soon as you tried to stand, more came up. Your heart was thudding in your chest as you forced yourself to be patient and let your stomach empty itself.

When you finally could, you got to your feet again, removing your glasses to rinse your mouth out and splash water on your face. Then you dried yourself and slid them back on. You eyed the linen closet next to the door in the mirror before turning around slowly. As you strode across the tile floor, Tramp came in to investigate, but you ignored him as you closed the distance to where you thought you might have one last pregnancy test hidden away.

You opened the narrow door and knelt down, and then you started throwing everything from the bottom shelves over your shoulders, frantically searching. You saw the box, and you tore it open. You already knew what to do, because you'd done it so many times before, but your hands were shaking as you removed the test and looked at it on your palm in the foil wrapper. 

Tramp whimpered at you as you got to your feet again and made it to the toilet, this time pulling your underwear down as you went. When the wrapper fell away, you took the test, hands shaking as you set it on the edge of the sink vanity when you were done. Then you wiped as you started to panic. Three minutes. You needed to wait for three minutes. 

Your phone was simply too far away as you started counting out loud, your voice echoing around your bathroom. It wasn't ready yet. You climbed into the empty bathtub, sitting and wrapping your arms around your knees. And you counted. 

You closed your eyes, and you counted. You looked at Tramp, and you counted. You pressed your forehead to your knees, and you counted all the way until you reached one hundred and eighty. 

"Three minutes," you whispered, your heart beating so hard, it was making you feel like you might need to throw up again. You climbed out of the tub onto unsteady legs and held your breath as you walked to the vanity. Very carefully, like it was the most precious thing you'd ever touched, you picked up the test. You checked the result before promptly dropping it to the floor.

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

Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 27

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

[wolfiesmoon]

A valid excuse

Floyd x gn!reader

I have been consumed by tweel brainrot there is no turning back

Anyways here's something i thought of in 5 mins lfmaooo

You were awakened from your peaceful slumber by loud and oddly agressive knocking at the door to Ramshackle dorm.

What in the world? Who is trying to visit at this hour?

You groan, gently pushing Grim off you and slowly making your way to the door to find out who your late night visitor is.

"Finally..." Floyd mumbles when the door reveals your slouched figure. He makes a mental note of how you look in your sleepwear.

"...Floyd?" You mumble sleepily, hoping you didn't say the wrong twin's name. It's kind of hard to tell which one it is in the dark.

"You sure took your sweet time answering the door, Shrimpy." He invited himself in, casually walking past you into the lounge . Yup, it's definitely Floyd.

"Why are you here?" You yawned.

He squeezed you really hard all of a sudden, which woke you up almost instantly. You felt your bones cracking, you swear. Way more effective than an alarm clock. Or Grim.

"I had a nightmare... Can I sleep in your bed?" He pouted at you almost comically.

"That's why you came banging on my door at 2 AM?" You raised a brow at him, slightly annoyed. And besides, Floyd wasn't even your boyfriend or anything. He's just that one guy who gets really excited when he sees you for some reason. Why is he coming to you with this overly childish request? Jade works just fine.

His pout increased and he squeezed you even harder. As a warning, no doubt.

Seems there's no way out of this...

"Okay, okay- Fine-" you sounded strained due to your innability to breathe. You kinda don't want to die because of Floyd's squeezing, though it would certainly be a unique way to go.

"Yay~" he let go of you, prancing over to your bedroom like an excited child.

You followed behind him, worried that he might throw Grim out the window to make space for himself. If there's one thing you know about Floyd, it's that he's unpredictable. Not that that's a bad thing, you just don't want to end up with catlike casualty tonight.

"Ehhhh, why is Sealie all cuddled up on your bed?" he sounded offended, like someone just took his well deserved space.

"...He always is." you smile to yourself, thinking of how Grim is actually kinda like a real cat when he's all curled up by your side. You always feel the urge to pet him when he's like that.

Floyd takes a step forward (to "remove" Grim, no doubt) but you quickly pick up Grim and place him down on the rocking chair to prevent a premature death. Grim so owes you for this later.

"Here, the bed's all yours." you point to it somewhat nervously, watching his expression soften. I mean, were you seriously just going to let him sleep with you? You're honestly so tired you don't even care anymore.

He flops down on the bed unceremoniously, waiting for you to join him. As soon as you do, he hugs you tightly. "My dream was soooo bad... It was just horrible..." he mumbled into you with an overly dramatic undertone.

You still have no idea if the nightmare was just an excuse or if he actually had one. Either way, he is squeezing you right now and seems quite satisfied. You let your eyes slip closed.

"Wanna tell me what it was about?" you whisper.

"Later... I feel like squishing you forever for now..." he swung one of his lanky legs over you, sighing happily.

"You know Azul will get mad at you if you squish me forever, right? Cuz you won't show up to work..." you surrender yourself into his embrace fully, noting how smooth his arms are.

"I don't really care, to be honest...."

You suddenly felt a kiss on your cheek and you jolted slightly. Did Floyd just kiss you?

No, no. That was definitely just your imagination. You're half asleep, after all.

it's late at night as i'm proofreading this and i just got a rook card when i wanted the vil one😭😭😭😭😭😭my unluckiness knows no bounds

[kitsunesfandomtime]

Simpler Times

Summary: A four year old Yoichi just wanted to prove that people are nice. Turns out he was very wrong but at least he knows he is safe as there someone that will make sure nothing ever happens to him.

_______________________

Since Yoichi could remember all he ever knew was his brother. White hair and white eyes that seem to stare at the world with fear and hostility. He always noticed people steered clear of his older brother.

But they weren’t kind to him either.

They didn’t fear Yoichi like his brother, but they didn’t offer a hand to him when he is near. They look at his hair and their face would scrunch in disgust when they realize he is different.

Unlike the fear they feel at his brother when they look at him, they look at him with contempt. He just didn’t understand that look considering he was only four years old sheltered by his brother. Always protected from the worse of it but his eyes still holding the light of innocence.

As he has seen adults being nice to kids, so maybe they will be nice if they see he needs something?

“Look at this little freak, is he looking at us?” One spoke, Yoichi could barely understand their words as he walked over to the group of guys. He had approached because he didn’t believe his brother when he said people would hurt them. People couldn't possibly be that mean but then he never really interacted with many people. He shifts in place as he realizes there were several adults, his green eyes looking up at them hungry.

Slowly he holds his hand out to the adult as he tries to remember the words to express his hunger.

“F-Food?” Yoichi stuttered wanting to prove to his brother they can ask for help. His green eyes looked hopeful as the three guys looked at him with confusion. For a moment, he thought they were considering helping as they looked among each other.

He was naive.

“Hell no!” One screamed and before Yoichi could even realize the danger he was in. He felt a sharp kick to his stomach as his reward for his bravery. A harsh gasp escaped as he fell to his knees before being kicked in the face.

“Damn you actually kicked the kid. What if he had some creepy powers and skewered your ass!” Another of the men questioned but Yoichi was on the floor gasping. He didn’t understand what he had even done wrong; he was just asking. His eyes were filled with tears as his teeth ached, instinctively his hands moved to his mouth since had been kicked in the face. It hurt.

He whines but it didn’t seem any of the adults cared that he was in pain. As they began to talk among themselves.

“Tch, it’s fine. I got to make sure he learns to stay away and see I’m in one pie-” 

Those were the last words the man ever said as a large metal beam slammed into him. A loud disgusting crunch could be heard as he was slammed through the wall. The other men were shouting in terror at seeing their friend but they weren’t able to get away. As a familiar face came onto the scene.

His big brother had found him already hitting them with a strength unbecoming of his size as he steals their power from their unmoving bodies. Those white eyes staring down at the assailants as he steps on them like insects.

He needed to act fast, Yoichi forces himself up despite the pain before finding a random soda can. It wasn’t much but it was something so he grabbed it. With as much strength as he had he chucked it as hard at his brother. The loud clink was heard as it made contact with his older brother and the older boy froze.

“Stop,” Yoichi spoke trying to remember all the words he learned to make his brother understand. His brother looked over at him surprised at having a can thrown at him. Those white eyes staring intently at him and Yoichi can tell he might be mad at that, “Don’t hurt.”

There is a pause, his older brother did seem to stop attacking the men. As if his words had the effect he wanted as the older boy without a name approached. Yoichi looks up at his older brother, trembling just a bit since this is the first time he did something like this. 

Then Yoichi got kicked for his trouble.

“No cans,” his older brother said, making it clear the kick was for throwing a can at him. Being rough with each other wasn’t anything new. Unlike those men the kick wasn’t that hard even if many would disagree as it did throw him back. Falling onto the hard floor Yoichi winces in pain at the rocks digging into him. Guessing it was a small price to pay to get his brother to stop.

His brother leans down next to him looking at his face with a frown before picking him up, clearly unhappy at stopping. Likely more upset that this area was now unsafe for them to live in since people now know they were here. He tucked Yoichi under his arm as goes to find a new hiding space for them.

Yoichi guessed he should have been more careful so no one else gets hurt. Not at all fighting his brother as they needed to find a new home to live in, far away from here. So no one that knows them will come to hunt them down, Yoichi learned his lesson on approaching strangers. Guessing his brother was right that people did want to hurt them, he was more surprised his brother wasn’t more angry.

If you ignore the kick anyway but that seemed more about the can being thrown at him then him approaching strangers.

“Sorry….” Yoichi mutters those words as his brother finally finds a spot and places him down to settle in. His brother doesn’t say anything, at most he moves a hand to pet and ruffle his head as goes to sit next to him. It seems his brother was empty handed so his attempt to find food must have not gone well.

“It’s ok,” his brother said softly as they just sat against the wall. His older brother moves to grab his wrist and leans back against the wall clearly tired. His brother really does a lot for him, he moves closer snuggling up against his older brother as he closes his eyes.

He loves his brother and hopes eventually he will be big enough to help.

[clangenrising]

Month 13 - Newleaf

Life in the wild cat camp moved slowly. Mystique spent the first day talking with their leader, Goldenstar, and Russetfrond, who seemed to be her second in command which was less than ideal. The wild cats had all sorts of questions about Razor and the city and their plans and her intentions and she could understand why but she eventually had to admit that she didn’t have that much to tell them.

“Look, you’re asking the wrong cat,” she had said when pressed about battle plans. “I know how to fight but I’m not like… in charge of training the Chaff or strategizing or anything. Razor keeps all that stuff between him and his friends. I just hang out and do odd jobs now and then, like watching Ginge- I mean, Scorch.”

“Right,” Goldenstar had nodded. “You were asked to keep her from running away, correct?” 

Mystique had shifted uncomfortably. “No, I mean… He asked me to keep her safe, that’s all.” She still didn’t feel ready to examine that train of thought too closely.

“Sure,” Russetfrond had huffed in that infuriating way he had a habit of huffing, “and that’s why she wasn’t allowed out of your sight ever.” 

“Yes!” Mystique’s tail had lashed back and forth over her back. “Is that so unbelievable?” 

“Thank you for answering our questions,” Goldenstar had quickly ended the conversation. “I apologize again for needing to keep you here. Just let your guard know if you need anything.” And they had left her in the empty den. In the days that followed, there were no more questions, although Russetfrond did come by to check in with her guards and glare at her. She entertained herself by poking fun at him. He always took the bait and he always ended up stomping off in a huff after a few minutes. That at least gave her a little satisfaction. 

The rest of the time was much duller though. She wasn’t allowed to leave the den except to scat. Her meals were brought to her by the younger cats - apprentices, if she’d heard right - and she was starting to get used to eating mice but she missed her kibble and gravy treats. Sometimes she would try to strike up conversation with the guard, depending on who they were, and sometimes she slept, but for the most part she just watched. 

She learned their schedules, picked up on their habits. She had a pretty good sense, in her opinion, of who was friends with who. Scorch seemed to be friends with no one even though Goldenstar and the loud ginger tom seemed to be trying very hard. 

One time, she and Scorch made eye contact as she was coming back from a sanitary break with her guard. Scorch had lifted her head with an aloof twitch of her lips but Mystique noted the split second before it where her ears flicked back. If she wasn’t mistaken, the expression was one of guilt. 

That puzzled her. Everything about Scorch was puzzling, honestly. It was like she was always performing this gracious, all powerful being but you could catch a glimpse of something underneath if you were looking right. Mystique still wasn’t sure what kind of beast she had glimpsed slithering beneath the surface and when she thought too hard about it she inevitably ended up thinking about Razor and that was where that ended. 

She didn’t want to think about Razor right now. Alarms flashed in her head every time she tried. You won’t like it in here! they cried, You don’t want to see the shadow truth! Turn around! She always turned around. Still, there wasn’t much to do but sit and think and it was driving her mad. If she didn’t find something else to do soon, she just knew she was going to ignore the warnings out of sheer boredom so she decided to find a distraction and fast.

One afternoon, when this need for something else gripped her, she looked over at her guard for the day and sized him up. He was smallish and round, with a face almost but not quite flat and black spotted fur. He’d been pleasant with her the other time or two he’d been assigned to watch her. As she stared, he seemed to notice and awkwardly turned his head to look at her. 

“Hey, there,” she said, sprawled out near the entrance of the den where he was sitting. 

“Um,” he shifted and straightened his posture, “hello.” 

“Remind me your name?” she asked.

He smiled with a touch of nerves. “Pantherhaze.” 

“Right,” she grinned. The name was familiar now that she heard it again. She jerked her chin up in a nod and said, “Mystique.”

“Right,” he echoed back, trailing the words with a little laugh. She snorted softly. He would be pretty cute if she was into that sort of thing. 

She flicked her tail. “So, is there anything interesting to do around here?” 

“Oh, um,” he frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not sure… At least, I’m not sure what you could do.”

“Well, what do you do for fun?” asked Mystique. 

He shrugged. “Hunt, fish, maybe wrestle? I dunno.” 

“We could wrestle,” she tried. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he shifted again.

“Come on,” she pressed, “I’m dying of boredom over here! Indulge me a bit.” 

“I don’t think Russetfrond would like that very much,” said Pantherhaze, sounding more like someone who didn’t want to upset a friend than someone who was worried about getting in trouble. 

That intrigued her so she pulled at it like a shoelace poking out under the door. “You know him well?” 

“Yeah,” Pantherhaze smiled. “We grew up together. Kind of. I was always a few moons ahead of him.” 

Mystique rolled onto her side and looked up at him, head tilted upside down. “Was he always such a stiff?” 

Pantherhaze blushed. “He just has a lot on his shoulders is all. He’s actually really great when you get to know him.”

“Yeah?” she laughed. “How so?”

“Um,” her guard squirmed slightly under the scrutiny. “When we were apprentices, he challenged the whole group to climb a tree on a dare. He and Goldenstar nearly made it to the top but I got stuck on one of the branches. They came back down for me and he even jumped first to show me it was safe to go down.” 

“Aww,” Mystique said, mocking him in a way she considered good natured, “how long were you stuck?” 

Pantherhaze’s ears pressed back against his head. “I- That’s not important.” 

Mystique laughed, rolling onto her back and stretching her paws out as far as she could. “Aww! I bet it was a while, wasn’t it stumpy?” 

“Is the rogue giving you trouble?” Russetfrond’s joyless growl cut in on their pleasant moment. Mystique folded her front paws to her chest so she could get an unobstructed view of him, snorting a little at how silly he looked upside down. 

“No, we were just talking,” Pantherhaze said, sounding embarrassed. 

“Yeah, we were just talking about what a sweet boy you are,” she said. “Don’t be such a wet blanket.” 

Russetfrond curled his lip in disgust at the term. “You kittypets and your strange phrases.” 

“Look, you’re the one who’s weird for not knowing what blankets are,” she said, “not me.” 

“I’m glad to see you’re as vapid as ever, kittypet,” he droned back, scowling down at her. 

“Ooh, ouch,” she winced sarcastically. “You know, your silly little insult doesn’t get better just because you insist on saying it.” 

“Hey, guys, let’s not fight,” Pantherhaze meowed gently. 

“I’m just having a bit of fun,” Mystique said, rolling back over to sit up. 

“Tch,” Russetfrond shook his head. Looking at Pantherhaze, he said, “When Goldenstar gets back from patrol she’ll switch you out, alright?”

“Okay,” said the other warrior. Satisfied, Russetfrond turned and started off towards the prey pile. 

“Aw, come back!” Mystique called after him in a playful pout. “Don’t take the fun away! I’m dying in here!”

“Good,” he called back over his shoulder. Mystique snorted, a wide grin spread across her features, but it quickly faded. She sighed heavily and dropped her chin on her forelegs.

“This is worse than being in a cone,” she grumbled. 

Pantherhaze’s brows shot up curiously but all he said was, “I’m sure it will be over soon.” 

“Oh?” she twitched one ear and looked up at him. “You know something I don’t?”

He stiffened. “No, just trying to be friendly.” She believed him.

“I appreciate it,” she sighed again. “Better than ol’ Bee Face over there.” She watched Russetfrond picking out a meal and noticed him glancing back her way. 

“I dunno,” Pantherhaze shrugged. “You seem to like him a lot.” 

“I don’t know about a lot,” she rolled her eyes. 

“But you do like him?” Pantherhaze chirped. 

“I guess,” she conceded. “He reminds me of my brother a bit, but like… grumpier and better tempered at the same time.” She chuckled at the juxtaposition.

“Oh,” Pantherhaze paled, swallowing thickly. “I see.” 

“Look, he’s really not so bad,” she said again, a frown forming. “I know he makes himself out to be this big scary guy but he’s just kind of a dick, that’s all.” 

“I-if you say so,” Pantherhaze smiled but she could tell he wasn’t convinced. She glowered at her paws. Why was everyone so convinced Razor was some uniquely terrible monster?  Everyone she knew liked him fine enough. He was a smart leader, if a bit hot headed, a loyal friend, an attentive partner. She grimaced. Scorch had seemed pretty upset the other night… And there was that time when she cried while explaining how they met… 

STOP! STOP! The alarms caught up to her in a frantic, screaming hurry. YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR! THE SHADOW TRUTH IS ALMOST UPON YOU! She shook her head to distance herself from that train of thought immediately. That had been close. Something squirmed in her stomach though, like a shred of the shadow truth had escaped and refused to be ignored. She thought she might be sick. Her body ached to move, to drown the thinking out in adrenaline and physical satisfaction. She briefly considered running circles around the little burrow. 

“Hey, Pantherhaze!” Goldenstar’s voice sounded before she appeared from the hill beside the entrance. The lanky white and blue apprentice and the dark bengal she-cat continued past her with poorly disguised stares at Mystique. “I’m here to relieve you.” 

“Okay,” he smiled, “Thanks, Goldie.” He jumped up to leave and then, as an afterthought, looked back and said, “Uh, goodbye Mystique.” 

“See ya, Stumpy!” she purred, flicking one ear. Goldenstar raised a brow at that and settled down next to her to start grooming her own paws. Mystique watched her for a moment before she sat up and said, “Well, how was the patrol?” like a busybody fishing for gossip. 

“Same old, same old,” Goldenstar said. “I hope you’ve been doing alright.” 

“Honestly, Goldie- Can I call you Goldie?” 

“Sure,” shrugged Goldie. 

Mystique smiled. “Honestly, Goldie, I’m about to chew my own legs off. I am so tired of laying around! If you’re not gonna let me go home, can you at least let me go hunting or something?” 

“Hmm,” Goldenstar quirked her mouth to the side as she considered the idea. “I dunno…” 

“Oh, come on, please?” she said, “I promise I’ll be good!” She pressed her paws together and swiped them in front of her like she did when the Folk asked her to beg, to which Goldenstar’s brows shot up in amusement. 

“You sound like Floodpaw,” she laughed. 

“Is it working?” Mystique asked, giving her best totally-innocent-I-swear smile. 

Goldie groaned a little and said, “Yeah… Alright, I’ll think about the schedules and see if we can make it work.” 

“Yes!” Mystique gave a mrrp of triumph. “Thanks, Goldie, you’re the best.”

“I try very hard,” laughed Goldenstar.

[leggerefiore]

cw: fluff, short, Volo in modern world (but not modern Volo)

pairing: Volo/Reader

He had barely changed since being forced here into the future from his place in Hisui.

Just as Volo had promised you, his ambitions to unravel all of Hisui's – Now, Modern Sinnoh – mysteries remained unchanged. A goal of forcing Arceus out before him to claim its power as his own would never leave him, not entirely.

No one but you (and Giratina) seemed aware of his more malicious intent. He easily fell back into his friendly persona that nearly masked his real self. Those piercing, stormy eyes of madness that had stared you down as he planned to use Giratina to end your life for daring to oppose him we no where to be seen among the people who spoke to him.

Well, perhaps that was him losing himself in that moment, as before he had truly been kind to you. Granted, most of it had been for his benefit, but still, you felt a certain closeness that no other in the wild lands of Hisui had to him.

You clutched a gift bag in your hands carefully. It was foolish to meet him alone, but you desperately needed to speak with him once again. Like most people considered an antagonistic type, and just as he was back in his time, it was difficult to find him. His avoidance of public spaces heavily apparent to anyone.

But, you knew him well.

Better than anyone else on this artificial island could ever hope to.

His hand on your shoulder from behind no longer scared you. It was expected. “Are you simply stupid or do you have a death wish?” he whispered, using his towering height to loom over you. You took in a shaky breath. He was terrifying. A madman with the will to bring about his perfect world, no matter the cost of life or pain involved. Yet, Volo was still not some inhuman monster. His friendly mask was not entirely a separate person. Rather, a glimpse into what he could have been.

You turned around to face him, stunned to see him still donning his merchant attire. The bag in your hands was gripped tighter. You stood up straight. “Neither,” you smiled at him, “Well, maybe a little dumb, but I got you a gift.” The bag was held out to him. It had a familiar red, blue, and white pattern on it. His expression was instantly filled with suspicion, yet he still took it from your hands.

Volo carefully pulled away the gift paper as he reached his hand into the bag. Out came a plush toy. The Togepi plush sat cutely in his hand as it stared up at him with a cute face. The blond bit his tongue. “I thought you might like it,” you told him sweetly, “A welcoming gift to this modern era. There's a lot more merchandise themed around Togepi and its evolution line, too.”

Volo shot a harsh look at you before tucking the plush toy into his bag. “Is that really the only reason you sought me out?” he hissed at you, clearly not wanting to admit he liked the gift out loud. You shrugged. His fondness for the Spike Ball pokemon was something that was shamelessly apparent. All the work to go through in evolving it simply meant he had to care for the fairy types.

“... I also wanted to talk,” you stepped closer to him, only a few centimetres away from the blond, “I… I know we may never see eye to eye, but I did truly mean it when I said I loved you.” Volo closed his eyes. It was obvious he was in some form of torment. Yet, before you had time to question his emotional state, cool hands came to cup your cheeks. Volo's grey eyes meeting yours with a strange grin on his lips.

“And I, too, genuinely meant it when I returned the words,” you felt breathless as his face hovered close to yours, “You really were foolish to come here.” His lips met yours for a kiss that held too many conflicting emotions.

“I'm never letting you go again,” he threatened when the affection broke.

It was hard to tell who was the real fool between you both.

[latibvles]

also this is purely bc inez is the light of my life — and with anyone you wish with her!!! [ silence ] sender and receiver comfortably exist in silence together, both of them working or reading or focusing on something different :D thank u thank u!

silence.

listen. whenever I am given a "whoever you want!" I take that as a moment to essentially get as weird as possible. this is prime example of that but it works to me. and is also a fun way to step out of my comfort zone and write somebody new. so thanks for the prompt, friend! <3

—

Inez really did treasure her quiet nights in the front room, right by the snack bar.

She’d always been that way. Inez was more often the type to find herself hiding in the residence hall as opposed to tagging along with her roommate on an escapade back when she was in school. Now, it was often at her crew’s insistence that she follow them off base and into town, but sometimes, they could be merciful upon her dwindling social battery and allot her her rationed moment of quiet time in the front room.

It’s mostly empty, too, which is a welcome relief as Inez makes her way over. There's a couple stragglers, all preoccupied much like she was soon to be, and she gives Helen a warm smile that the woman returns.

“Coffee, Lieutenant?”

“Maybe in a little, thanks Helen,” she says and makes a beeline for one of the wicker chairs by the window, settling her newest recommendation in her lap as she fiddles with her glasses to get them back onto her face.

There were many reasons to be thankful for Josephine Alden: her listening ear, her natural pension for diffusing things, her willingness to wrangle the curious village children and answer their questions. And of course, the massive set of books that she’d dragged with her across the ocean like priceless artifacts. Which, in a way, they kind of were: each book well-loved, annotations in their creased pages, some of their spines cracked. If Inez is completely honest, she’s terrified to touch the battered copy of Little Women that Jo never seemed to put down when she had the time for it.

This copy of The Hobbit is fine though — and Jo sounded nearly scandalized by the fact that Inez never read it until now.

She’s really only a few pages in when she notices a figure in her peripheral vision, standing in front of her, and she looks up again.

“You’re upright,” Inez greets, “Did I take your seat? I can mo—”

“No, no, s’fine,” Hambone waves a hand dismissively.

She heard about the stomach flu that was creeping around base, taking out crewmen like a silent killer, Howard Hamilton being one of them. But he looks pretty okay right now, looking down at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Not that she’d be able to read it in any meaningful way, she didn’t know him all that well to begin with. Just that he knew all the right buttons to push to make June mad (which wasn’t hard) and that he was from Kansas.

He takes a seat in the other wicker chair, the two of them separated by the small coffee table between them. She’s used to him being loud, so this, too, is unexpected. Maybe it’s because he’s shaking off that stomach flu, and the absence of Murphy or Douglass here to spur him into causing some type of trouble has him quiet. She can’t really tell if he’s subdued by the last remnants of the flu or if this is how he always is when not surrounded by those he’s wholly comfortable with.

“You always wear those?” He’s still holding her stare, but in a way that’s… boyishly curious, and Inez has to remind herself that he’s really not that much older than Carrie. They’re so different though: the round face and big green eyes of her friend are the direct opposite of Hambone’s gangly limbs and the sharp angles of his face, making him look older than he really is. Never mind the slivers of gold in his teeth that seem to glint everytime he talks. Inez comes to the quick and tentative conclusion that maybe there’s just a few things about Hambone that didn’t make sense — at least, not to her.

But his question has her immediately far more aware of the barely-there weight on the bridge of her nose, and presses her lips into a line, bracing herself in a way for the inevitable teasing at her expense as she shakes her head.

“Only when I need ‘em. For uh… small text,” she offers, feeling small.

People could be cruel over the tiniest of things. An accent that didn’t “sound smart” or thin-wire frames; the most miniscule of things could lead to doubting her intelligence, her abilities, and she hated that. Yeah, yeah, a navigator who can’t see her maps, laugh it up.

The jeering doesn’t come: instead he smiles a little, and she’s not really used to this expression on his face. It’s softer, with a little bit of a nod and a small shrug from him. She’s used to his dastardly grin, his pointed canines, sharp-edged humor travelling over the din of a busy pub.

“Would take that over the airsickness.” Hambone points out and Inez can’t help the small laugh that escapes, hiding it a bit behind the pages.

“You might have a point,” Inez assents, and they hold each other’s stare for a moment longer before Hambone’s slumping a little more in the chair, and Inez’s attention is reverted back to her book.

The silence there is significantly less awkward than she’d initially anticipated. Every now and again she’ll see him look over at her from the corner of her eye — eventually Helen comes with two coffee mugs. Inez pretends not to notice the face he pulls on the first sip, but she can draw her conclusions on how often he actually drinks the stuff. But it’s… comfortable, in its own way. Unexpectedly so. There’s not much said between them, Inez resigned to her own quiet and Hambone, seemingly, content to sit in it between sips of coffee. She didn’t peg him as much of a people watcher, but that seems to be what he’s doing while his idle hands mess with what looks to be a piece of string.

She finds herself getting lost in the pages and understanding why Jo was so scandalized at the fact that she hadn’t read this one yet. She isn’t really sure just how much time actually passes. When Inez looks up once more, Hambone has effectively dozed off — long legs outstretched in front of him, arms folded over his chest. Sleep relaxes his features further and now he starts looking his age. Inez smiles to herself, endeared a bit at the sight.

Unexpected. It’s a fair way to describe Howard Hamilton and the space he is at present taking up. But somehow the silence, and him, both just... fit, with the way she planned to spent her evening. So even when he wakes after fifteen, twenty minutes, Inez doesn’t rush off, more than happy to keep him in her company if that’s what he seems content to do.

[moa-broke-me]

I was tired.

I gripped my arms tighter around myself, shivering against the freezing pelts of rain, protected only by my baggy shirt. As I passed a store window, I caught a reflection of myself. My lips were blue.

I ducked into the 24 hour drugstore and gas station next to me, and tried to warm myself up a little by the coffee machine. The smell made me nauseated with hunger, so once i wasn't freezing to death, I left to grab the cough syrup off of the shelf, and a cup of instant ramen. Closest thing I could find to chicken noodle soup, and all it needed was a little hot water. We had that at the house, at least. I knew I'd get hungry again feeding her, so I snatched some cigarettes too, just to dull down the urgent pangs that had been growing in my stomach the last two weeks.

I tucked both of the items tight against my arms, and was about to leave, when the automatic doors opened.

Oh no. Was that... Batman?

I fell onto the floor and curled into a ball, begging him not to beat me up. But I knew it was no use; he hated criminals, and I was a criminal.

-

When I forced one of my eyes open, he was kneeling beside me, with the cough syrup and he noodle cup tucked into his arms. "How old are you?" He demanded gruffly.

I tried desperately not to cry, not to appear any weaker and more vulnerable than I already did. "Um..." I couldn't think of a lie, so I figured I should answer honestly. "... E-eight. I'll be nine in January."

"Yeah, I'm not beating up an eight year old. Not even if they kill someone."

I curled into myself. "A-aren't you mad at me? For... T-trying to steal?"

"I'm mad that you feel the need to." He answered. "The fact that you're out here at all, when it's this late. The fact that it's November and you don't even have a jacket on." He unsnapped his cape with one hand and draped it over me.

I hesitantly snapped it over me. It felt like that waterproof fabric umbrellas were made of, at least on the outside. The inside was fluffy and fleece-lined. "Th-thank you." I forced myself to stand up, legs shaking underneath me. "So, if you weren't looking for criminals to beat up, why were you here?"

"I was just getting some snacks for my driver and I. Running low on gas." Despite his intimidating cowel, I felt I had no choice but to believe him. "What were you doing here?"

I sighed shakily. "M-my little sister has a cold, a really bad one. I just need that medicine and soup for her, and then I'll be home again."

"I see... And why were you the one to go on this fetch quest? Where are your parents, or whoever's responsible for you?"

"My d-daddy's at home, but he... He doesn't do that kind of thing."

The man sighed. "I see. What does he do, then?"

"Um... Works, sometimes. Sleeps on the couch. Punishes us when we're bad."

His expression was hard to read with the mask on. "... What counts as 'bad'?"

I shrugged, holding myself. "I-I'm not sure. Being too loud, too quiet. Crying. Eating too much, not eating what he tells us to. Or..." I felt a chill run down my spine. "O-or telling anybody." I would be in a world of trouble when I got home.

His posture was stiff as he reached out to me. I didn't want to flinch when his hand reached my back, but I did. I didn't want to cry, but I was crying anyway.

He gently prodded me closer, and I stepped until my cheek was laying on his waist.

Eventually, he spoke again. "Would you like to come live with me?" He asked.

I did. No matter how scary he was, I'd take him over my dad any day. He seemed like he cared about me.

But...

"... I don't wanna leave her behind." I sniffled.

"You can bring her too. We'll stop at your address and let you get her, and anything else you'd like to take."

I nodded.

"There. Now, is there anything else you need from here? And please don't say cigarettes, I'm not buying an eight year old cigarettes."

I thought for a moment, before nodding. "Um, can I get a cup of hot chocolate?"

He nodded and went over to the coffee stand, which had a station for hot chocolate. I went out and picked up a lemon poppyseed muffin. It was bigger than my fist, and I silently went up to the hero I'd just met, and slipped it in with everything else.

He paid with cash, I guess to keep his secret identity a... Well... Secret, and as soon as everything was paid for, I started eating my muffin, only pausing to lift the cape over my head as we went to the parking lot. I slid into the backseat of the batmobile, my hot chocolate already in the drink holder.

"Alfred, I went ahead and got you werther's again." He held out a bag of caramel candy. "I know you like those."

"Thank you, Master Wayne." He replied. "Who's that in the backseat? Did you find yet another troubled little boy to call your own?"

"Guilty. What's your name, by the way? I never caught it."

"N-Nico." I answered. "Nico diAngelo."

"Right. Where's your old address, Nico? You said you had a sister to pick up."

I told him before shoving the last of the muffin in my mouth and sipping on the hot chocolate. "Do you have a baby seat?" I asked. "Sh-she's only two."

I watched Alfred's face scrunch in thought for a moment in the rear view mirror. "I believe so. Hold on."

He pressed a button, and suddenly, the center seat flipped out into a baby seat, built into the car. "Wow... I knew you had gadgets, but... Wow."

"Alfred?" He asked. "When did we get that installed?"

"I figured it was only a matter of time before you'd need it."

-

It wasn't long before we were at my dad's house. I quickly ducked out and snuck inside, making sure to avoid any of the floorboards that creak. Soon, I was back at my bed, where Hazel was sleeping, wrapped in my jacket. It was the closest thing she had to a baby blanket.

"baba?" She asked weakly, coughing.

I smiled. "I'm here, Hazel." I picked her up, still bundled in the jacket, and tried not to trip over the cape as I went back out again, covering both of us with Batman's waterproof cape.

I slipped in and sat her in the baby seat, pouring the little cup full of cough syrup and holding it to her mouth, but she wasn't having any of it. She fussed and cried and shook her head, but I pleaded with her anyway. "Hazy, please. It'll make you feel better."

She smacked the little cup out of my hand, crying her little lungs out.

And cough syrup splattered everywhere.

I froze. I didn't know what to say, I was horrified.

I began to hyperventilate. "Oh my god I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry, I ruined everything! The floor and the seats and... And your cape! Oh, I messed up your cape, it must've been so expensive, everything must've been so expensive and I got cough syrup all over it- I'm so sorry, please don't take us back to dad, please don't leave us in the woods, I'm sorry, I'll make up for it I promise! I-I..." I stopped talking when I heard the words 'pull over, and just curled up into myself, shaking and crying. It was no use, this was it, I've crossed the line-

"Breathe, Nico." His mask was off now, and I thought I recognized him from a magazine somewhere. "Breathe in for four seconds, alright?"

I tried to follow along, but it was hard working around the tightness in my chest.

"Alright, you're doing good. Hold it for seven seconds, can you do that?"

That was easier. I held my breath and counted to seven, looking to him for the next step.

"Now, out for eight seconds, ok kid?"

I nodded, and slowly let my breath out.

"There we go, just keep doing that until you feel better."

I looked up at him. "... How did you...?"

"Picked it up from Dr. Quinzell before she went with the circus. She was my grief counsellor way back when. I don't have panic attacks like that nearly as often anymore, but it still helps."

"Panic attack?"

"Yeah. Y'know, when you're so scared you can't breathe, or talk, or move? It feels like you're just... Frozen."

I considered his words for a moment. "... I thought that's just what being scared felt like." He looked incredibly sad just then, and I didn't understand why, but I felt like I'd done something wrong. "I'm sorry-"

"You don't have anything to apologize for. And I mean anything."

"N... N-not even spilling all the cough syrup?" I asked.

"Hey, accidents happen. That's why I have Alfred."

"And that's why I deserve a raise." He added.

"Yeah, you're getting one. Just like you got one with Grayson, and Cassie, and all the others."

He closed the door again, and went back to his seat. I began tending to Hazel, who was crying a little. I held her hand. "There we go, Hazy." I kissed her cheek. "My little hazelnut."

She cooed a little.

I kissed her chubby little baby hand, before turning back to the man who rescued me. "Who are they?" I asked.

"Hm? Oh, Cassie and Grayson? Just two of the kids I took in. My name's Bruce, by the way."

I hummed. "... How many have you taken in?" I asked.

Bruce shrugged. "Total of... Six. Or, I suppose eight now, counting you two. I'm sure you and them'll get along just fine, but we can hold off the meet and greet until you're ready. It's been a long night for you, hasn't it?"

I sighed. "Kinda, yeah."

We started moving again. I picked up my cup of hot chocolate, which was more like warm chocolate by now, and drank the last swig or so. I was lucky the syrup didn't end up inside.

-

When we reached the manor, Alfred picked Hazel up from her baby seat, and I felt my anxiety spike.

He must've noticed. "I'll make sure Madam Hazel is well taken care of." He assured me. "Trust me, I'm a professional."

I smiled a little bit. "Thank you, sir."

I got out and let him lead me to the front. He walked me down the hall, and showed me to my new room.

I laid down and sunk into the plush pillows and comforter, and I was out like a light.

-

@via-rant I've started this thing for real! You can add onto it if you want <3 We could even move it to AO3, I'll put you down as a co-creator

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Unfair

Kanae Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: The request for this fic was along the lines of Zenitsu finding out that his sister has been dating Kanae and gets jealous. I hope you like it, thank you for reading! Word Count: 938

Zenitsu was not in a good mood.

After being cursed out of the kitchen by Shinobu and Aoi for only trying to help them by kneading the lumps of bread dough they had been working on from behind them, and then getting the wind knocked out of him by Inosuke during a surprise training that he did not agree too, mind you, he was looking for his sister to complain about how unfairly he was being treated.

This added to his fowl mood because he couldn’t find her anywhere. She wasn’t on a mission. She would have told him before she left if that was the case. So where the hell was she? Some big sister she was. Now if he had a sister like Kanae, that would be amazing. Her warmth and kindness was wasted on someone as bitter and snarky as Shinobu could be.

But then again, Zenitsu giggled to himself, Kanae would make a good girlfriend too. So beautiful, graceful and strong…

Zenitsu broke away from his musings when he heard murmurs of quiet conversation deeper within the flower garden. Probably too quiet for the average person to notice, but for Zenitsu it was perfectly clear.

So that’s where his sister had been all of this time. She was with Kanae too, a bonus. It would be so nice if (Y/n) got along with her possible future sister-in-law. Zenitsu hummed to himself, pleased.

“Onee-chan!” He called as he skipped though the blooms, all to happy to insert himself into whatever hushed conversation they were currently engaged in.

When he reached the tranquil center of the garden, he shrieked, causing every bird within a ten mile radius to scatter.

(Y/n) pulled back and quickly whipped her head around to face her brother, a near mortified look on her face at being caught locking lips. Kanae sat up more slowly, her expression was caught between amusement and confusion at Zenitsu’s sudden appearance.

“What are you doing?!” Zenitsu demanded shrilly, pointing an accusatory finger in his sister’s face.

(Y/n) flapped her lips, barely able to get a single sound out after the rude and frighteningly loud interruption of an otherwise perfect moment. She flinched slightly when Kanae’s hand came to rest atop hers, but slowly relaxed as Kanae’s thumb worked over her skin.

“Zenitsu-kun, good afternoon!” Kanae beamed, “We were just enjoying the good weather.”

It seemed to Zenitsu that they were enjoying something a little different, actually. He continued to stare daggers into his sister.

“How long has this been going on?! Huh?!”

Having had a little more time to gather her thoughts, (Y/n) smiled sheepishly as she answered.

“…About a month.”

“A month?!” He screeched, (Y/n) was concerned for the state of his vocal chords, “You’ve been kissing Kanae-san behind my back for a month? Why didn’t you tell me?”

(Y/n) looked Zenitsu up and down, “Your reaction just now pretty much sums that up.”

“This is so unfair!“ Zenitsu cried, quite literally, and flopped to his knees, face planting into his sister’s lap. As mad as he was, she was still his number one source of comfort.

“Leave some girls for me, why don’t you!” He demanded while snotting all over her pants.

“Um, I did? Kanae is the only person I’m dating.” (Y/n) shuddered at the warm, damp spot forming on her knee. Some things never changed it seemed. Still as wet and sloppy as he was when he was a baby. She petted his hair sympathetically.

“Kanae-san counts as at least ten girls and you know it!” He sobbed. “You are a terrible big sister! The worst! How dare you share the same blood as me!”

“Oh dear,” Kanae chuckled, “Zenitsu-kun, don’t be so hard on your sister, hm?”

Zenitsu scrunched up his face and shook his head against (Y/n)’s thigh, causing her to release a grossed-out groan. Good.

“I’m sorry to say I’m already quite attached to (Y/n), but I’m sure you’ll find your match one day as well.” Kanae added, trying to be helpful, surely. “But you have so many sisters now! Isn’t that grand?”

“But we aren’t married.” (Y/n) flustered. They’ve only been together a month and Kanae was already considering marriage?

“Not married yet.” Kanae corrected before continuing on, “You’ll have me, Shinobu, Kanao, Aoi, Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho as your sisters-in-law. Won’t that be nice? A big happy family.” She clapped her hands together and cutely tilted her head to the side. (Y/n) couldn’t help but smile tenderly at her.

Zenitsu let out a noncommittal grunt, too tired from his previous screaming to give much more of a reaction. Maybe Kanae didn’t count as ten girls, but she for sure counted for at least seven. Perhaps he jinxed himself by thinking that Kanae was a better sister…

“So unfair…” He whined again.

(Y/n) sighed.

“How about we go into town tomorrow and I’ll take you to that food stand that specializes in eel dishes that you like so much?”

Zenitsu slowly turned his head to peek up at his sister. He did like eel… hes sniffled loudly and sat up, wiping his face on his sleeve before nodding.

“Will you buy me sweets too?”

“Fine…”

“My, such a doting sister you are.” Kanae teased.

“And you aren’t?”

“You’ve got me there!”

Zenitsu pouted up at (Y/n) and Kanae from the ground as they bantered. This would know doubt continue to sting for awhile, but to see how his sister’s eyes shined so brightly did feel kind of nice. Make no mistake, he was still going to be petty. At least until he got tired of eating fried eel.

[sparkleburstdoodles]

Stepping In The Sun: Looking Up?

Sunburst was starting to feel good.

Finally, something he was actually making progress with. Something he can actually DO. Something other ponies were proud of him for. And Sunburst was really good at it!

He couldn't help but smile with pride at the scoreboards for the final grades. His name was so high up, his neck kind of hurt looking at it.

“Wow. You're second place, Sunburst!” Bouillon Roux–an albino filly– remarked. “Think you can tutor me a bit? I got 20th place…”

“Well, shucks, I dunno about THAT.” Sunburst rubbed a leg in bashfulness. “Moondancer beat me by a LARGE margin. You probably should ask her.”

“Get real. She doesn't like anypony but her friends. I feel like she'd bite me if I approached her.”

“Come on, I don't think–”

“Look, it's Shimmer and Cadenza!”

The two turned with the crowd to see the two stellar students of the academy—under the tutelage of Princess Celestia herself! — trotting down the path.

Mi Amore Cadenza: the supposed niece of Celestia. She was a pegasus with incredibly mysterious aero-magic that seemed to enchant anypony that laid eyes on her.

And Sunset Shimmer: a newer protégé with exceptional spellcasting skills and a seemingly endless well of magic at her disposal. She also happened to be Sunburst's sister.

Sunburst ducked a little behind Roux when he spotted Sunset. He didn't want her to see him.

Sunset held her chin high, seeming to ignore Cadenza's chatter in her ear. Sunburst wasn't sure if she was trying to act cool, but she had an annoyed expression that focused directly ahead. She always seemed so mad these days.

The two mares approached the boards, where Cadenza sighed so loud. “Phew! My all-nighters paid off. I hope this makes Auntie proud! What did you get, Sunshim?”

Sunset pointed as she looked for her name, then grunted in displeasure. “Not good enough. So not fair.”

Cadenza’s ears flattened a bit, searching the board. “Well…you placed lower last semester right? So it's still very good–!”

“Oh piss off already, Cadence.” Sunset pushed through a group of kids. “I didn't ask you.”

Sunburst watched her storm away, Cadenza hurrying behind Sunset.

“What was that about?” Roux whispered. “She bit her head off.”

He shook his head. “I don't know. She's quick to be mad.”

“Huh? You know Shimmer?” she tilted her head.

Crap. Sunburst rubbed the back of his head. “It's…not important. Let's just get to class.”

“Right. Isn't today we gotta get our report cards?” Roux remarked.

Gulp.

Report cards. He didn't think that part through. He grew nervous.

“Sunburst?” Roux touched his shoulder. “Are you worried? What for?”

“I…didn't tell my mom I switched classes,” he admitted.

“Why?”

“I'm worried she'll take it wrong. And she'll make this big fuss and make the principal put me back in Spellcasting.”

Bouillon blinked. “So she won't understand? Even if you're really good at it?”

“I don't think so. When my mom has her mind set, it's hard to talk to her.” Sunburst looked down.

“My dad’s kinda harsh too,” Roux admitted. “I love cooking, but he wanted me to be a scholar more. Because he couldn't make my brother do it. Hey!” She stepped closer to his face, making him nervous. “I got an idea!”

“W-what?”

“Shh!” She warned, whispering. “I'll change your report card for you! Then she won't know!”

“Ch-change…?? Are you crazy?” Sunburst panicked. “But that's wrong. If she finds out, I won't hear the end of it!”

“She won't! Don't tell anypony, but I've gotten good at it!” Roux smirked. “I do it for my brother all the time. And Dad never catches on.”

“I don't know…” Sunburst looked away.

“It'll be just a name switch. Think about it. She'll be proud, and you don't have to go back to the other course! Avoid the conflict!”

“I would think lying would add MORE conflict…”

“Fine. How's this? I’ll change it for the night. If you don't send it to your mom by morning, I'll change it back. No sweat!” Bouillon held out a hoof. “Eh?”

Sunburst hesitated. Well…he'll be letting her down either way…but he COULD go scotch free. “....Alright. I’ll think about it. ”

————————

Later that night, Sunburst couldn't sleep, even if his short life depended on it. He just sat on his dorm room bed, staring at the paper.

It wasn't like he was changing his grades or anything. He was changing the class names. Could it be so bad?

Yes! This was still lying! Mom would be so mad and Dad would be disappointed! What if the school kicks him out for this?

Sunburst groaned and rubbed his forehead. He didn't want to tell Mom what he's been holding back either…could he claim he lost the report card? No, Mom would probably call the school for it.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The orange unicorn jolted. Somepony at the door?

“H-hello?” He stood near the door, reluctant to open it.

“It's Sunset.”

Sunset??

“I don't have all night.” She grunted.

Sunburst cracked the door open enough to poke his head through. “Something the matter?”

“I'm visiting Mother tomorrow.” Sunset explained, “Did you get your report card?”

“No!!” Sunburst panicked.

Sunset blinked, and scrunched her nose in annoyance. “You don't have to yell. Jeez. I thought your whole grade got them today? I was just saving time.”

“Right…we did. Sorry I'm just…stressed over…homework!” He nodded and smiled nervously.

“....whatever. Give it to me.”

He did so. Get it over with.

“And stop wasting ponies' valuable time.” Sunset turned to leave.

Sunburst sighed, and moved to shut the door, when he heard his sister mumble.

“Take care of yourself.”

Did he hear that right?

—————————————

Another piece for Sunburst’s story! Bouillon Roux is a very old OC I decided to ponify

Cutie mark vectors are all from DeviantArt I credited them on my DA lol

[xjulixred45x]

Kaigaku x GN Reader

Request: my spanish isn’t super good either but i’m hoping to get better at it! and it’s so cool you write for kaigaku too, so if i may, can i request him a gender-neutral reader who is an academic at heart and extremely knowledgeable and they’re a researcher at a renown institute like for oceans or something and has a super hard time expressing emotions and comforts people by awkwardly making them a handmade gift or by rambling about random facts instead of the usual sit down talks of you can tell me anything? how would the two interact?

Hey Pal! Your Spanish is pretty good! Spanish is My first language, but worry not, i have your Back, Kaigaku Lovers.

Reader: Gender neutral

Genre: Headcanons

Warnings: none really, Maybe OOC Kaigaku?, Kimetsu Academy and Canon Kaigaku, Reader is very Smart but kind of dense of feelings. Fluff.

To say that Kaigaku is impressed with your intelligence is an understatement. You know, especially if we talk about Kimetsu Academy, then you are someone quite relevant.

While he may be a little jealous of everything you accomplish, he manages to brush it under the rug because he simply can't be mad when you seem so happy with something at work.

He's not a big fan of you having to go to other continents from time to time, but he manages, but he hopes it's a tick attached to you when you return. Do you recognize it? Never.

If we talk about the canon, he's a little more joking that you're a "nerd" or something like that, of course, he doesn't say it to tear you down, but if he sees that you take it the wrong way, he'll try to cheer you up with a comment best intentioned, you are the brain and he is the muscle, honestly.

When I said the above, I mean it, whether in a normal world or not, Kaigaku doesn't have much education, and the few ways he has to resolve conflicts is with his fists, so seeing how dedicated you are to studying It's something new for him, he just never considered the possibility of learning for the fun of it. But here you are.

Honestly, thanks to you, he is starting to use his head more and not violence 😅

That being said, accept any gift you've given him, making it handmade only adds a certain pride to the fact that you love him enough to invest this kind of effort in him. It makes you feel good inside even if you don't say it.

You and him are very similar in the way you show affection, Kaigaku doesn't usually say "I love you" a lot or things like that, his way of showing affection is by taking care of you and making sure you are safe, for more advanced terms of relationship , also physical contact. But understand that it can be difficult to say the "L-word" out loud.

As for the sudden talk of random facts, in some ways he finds it funny, sure, sometimes he's frustrated, but having you come and tell him things he had NO IDEA about and with so much enthusiasm makes him forget why he was there. frustrated at first.

Of course, if someone complains about your babbling, Kaigaku sees RED, he won't tolerate it and can 1- throw DEATH looks at the person or 2- directly go to blows. 2 is more likely.

In general, both complement each other quite well despite everything. It's worth a try.

Sorry this is short compared to my other works! It's just that I have midterms ahead of me and I don't have as much time as I would like. But this was so CUTE that I couldn't pass it up! I have another Request to do, I will try to do it after a well-deserved rest.

[decks-writing-blog]

Whatever the Fuck Benrey Is: Chapter Fifteen: I'll Listen

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

~

As was always the way of things, silence and solitude were easier to bear in board daylight with the TV on, its volume just a tick or two away from being too loud. Focusing on the game he’d chosen to play helped too. Maybe it was a crutch to lean on that when he really should try to just get over it already because it was rather pathetic but so what? At least he hadn’t run over to Dr. Coomer’s place across the street the moment Benrey left the house.

Even with that being the case he hadn’t been at it for long before a knock sounded on the door and he eagerly stood to answer it. Someone coming to him was fine, he wasn’t being needy. Out of habit, not neediness, because the Black Mesa living space doors didn’t have peepholes or windows to check one’s visitors before answering a knock, he went straight to opening it.

“Hello Gordon!” Dr. Coomer said with his usual endearing tone and smile.

“Hello Dr. Coomer. What’s up? You wanna come in and hang out?” Gordon stepped back and gestured him inside. “Benrey left on a walk but I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

Dr. Coomer strode in pretty much just far enough for Gordon to close the door behind him but made no move for the couch. “I saw him storm off and decided to come over to see how bad your fight was. Do you need a shoulder to cry on about it?”

“Uh… no. And it wasn’t a fight… or at least I don’t think it was, not this time anyway. I was being kinda nosy about what he is and his past and stuff but only because I care… or no, not only. Some of it is scientific curiosity but I was upfront about that and he seemed fine with it and it’s mostly because I care, which I was also upfront about. He doesn’t know if he was made in the lab or if they found him as an egg and decided to keep him as a pet science experiment. That’s sad, right? You’re with me on that being sad?”

“That is quite tragic, yes.”

“Exactly. And so, I was asking him questions about stuff, trying to see if I couldn’t spark any clues or whatever which he seemed mostly fine with.” No way was Gordon going to admit to the blood experiment. “But then I guess I hit a sore spot or something when I asked him if his current form is like… his true form or whatever. ‘Cause he can shapeshift so he might have like ‘this is what he really looks like but can change it’ kind of thing going on. He didn’t seem mad but uh… I guess it’s kinda hard to tell with him sometimes. It for sure wasn’t a fight though. He just said he was done talking about it and left. I figured it was best to leave him be but… you think I should call him to apologize?”

“I’m not sure. I just wanted to see if this was the big fight before you reconcile and end up kissing in the rain.”

Unable to keep still, Gordon had set to pacing a little while he talked. Now though he stopped, turning to face Dr. Coomer again. “Excuse me?”

Dr. Coomer met his gaze, his expression the same as always. “Hello… h… We could go back to Black Mesa and see if we can’t find his records. That should tell us if they made him in the lab or if they found him. We are far from done with salvaging everything after all. We could volunteer to go on the next trip and go straight to Benrey’s department while we’re there. We’ll have to ask Benrey to come with us or for him to tell us where in the facility his handlers stored information about him.”

“Uh… hold onto that idea for a moment and go back to the the thing you mentioned about me and Benrey… kissing in the rain? I misheard that, right?”

“Nope, that is exactly what I said. I suppose it probably won’t be in the rain though. It doesn’t rain much in the desert. But, don’t worry, I’m sure it will still be plenty dramatic.” Neither Dr. Coomer’s voice nor face cracked even once, seemingly he was serious.

“Why would we kiss at all?”

“Because that’s how these things usually go.”

“What things?”

He was silent for several seconds. “These… things.” He gestured vaguely with his hands as if indicating the world as a whole. “So Gordon, what do you think of my plan to look at Benrey’s records?”

There was nothing else to do but sigh and give up on figuring out where Dr. Coomer had pulled that idea from and so… “It’s uh… a good idea, actually.” How had Gordon not thought of it before? Rather made in the lab or stolen from somewhere, research data and records on him would be stored somewhere in the facility. Which would answer all such questions about him and more. “We’d have to ask Benrey though, huh? ‘Cause that stuff’s probably sensitive?” It’d be like looking at someone’s detailed medical records.

“It is possible his records don’t exist anymore. The computers they and their backups are stored on might’ve been destroyed. I doubt this though as they likely would be in a deep part of the facility, safe from the bombings. It is still possible they were shot with guns or destroyed through other means of violence. It’s also very possible his files are among the devices already salvaged from the facility. Which would mean we would need to look through the data storage devices already gathered in the new lab.”

“Fuck, you’re right. And if that’s the case, it uh… kinda puts a damper on our whole ‘keep Benrey a secret’ thing. Someone else at Black Mesa seeing those records might not be good. He can’t die… or I guess he doesn’t stay dead so it’s probably pretty obvious he’s still around somewhere. They might decide to go looking for him. So we should probably for sure find them then.” Maybe that’s where Dr. Coomer had gotten the idea that Gordon and Benrey might kiss. Gordon had gone from wanting him gone and willing to help contain him again to now immediately wanting to go out of his way and possibly risk losing his job if he was caught stealing Black Mesa’s experiment files to keep Benrey’s freedom a secret the moment he’d learned of a potential threat to it. But he was perfectly capable of recognizing the way Benrey had been treated was wrong and care enough about that and him as a person to want to stick his neck out for him without also wanting to kiss him. “And we probably wanna be sneaky about what we’re looking for.”

“Ooh, I do love a good stealth mission.”

“It’s not really a stealth mission, just a few lies about why we wanna dig through the data stuff. When Benrey gets back, we’ll talk to him about it. Before then though uh… when I was having that talk with him earlier, he mentioned that you have a the Black Mesa Sweet Voice too. Is that correct?”

“That is correct, yes. Would you like a demonstration?”

Damn, Gordon apparently was that stupid. “Sure.”

Dr. Coomer took deep breath and then did indeed let out a stream of sweet voice; blue to green, meaning he’s not mean. His tone was different, it was distinctively a human voice singing a note. Still pretty but not as much as Benrey’s. He also couldn’t hold it as long. Which wasn’t to say how long he did hold it for wasn’t impressive, just not as inhumanly long as Gordon had seen Benrey hold his a few times.

“Awesome, thanks,” Gordon said as it petered out. “I’m not sure how I missed that but… whatever. But um, While you’re here and while we wait for Benrey to come back, I’ve been meaning to ask you if you could help me move the couch and TV and stuff into I guess what’s gonna be the gaming room.” It did make some sense to have all the gaming stuff in one room.

“I am quite good at lifting things so sure, I’ll help.”

***

Benrey leaned in the kitchen’s doorway as Gordon, sitting at the kitchen table across from Coomer, explained the idea the two of them had come up with to extract the files Black Mesa had on him either from the lab directly or the stuff already salvaged from the lab. If it were just to look to see what he was or where he’d come from, Benrey would’ve told them not to bother. Even if he was curious now thanks to Gordon, it’d be a lot of work and would instead be easier to go back to not thinking about it. But if they didn’t find his records, likely the rest of Black Mesa eventually would.

Dealing with them trying to get him back would be annoying. With his files they’d likely know how to contain him too which would make it even more of a pain in the ass. So keeping those files out of their hands just in case would be nice.

On the other hand though, the thought of Gordon going through them made Benrey’s insides feel as if they were squirming. What all they contained he wasn’t sure of but Gordon looking through all of them might be… not good. He was already interested in Benrey scientifically, which was fine because he’d also said he cared about Benrey earlier – not a sentiment often shared with him. But what if having all of Benrey’s science info at his fingertips pushed him to seeing Benrey more as a science experiment than a friend?

Given their rocky history and how Gordon used to not like him at all, that thought perhaps shouldn’t be as disconcerting as it was. Gordon viewing him like that wouldn’t necessarily mean Benrey had to stop hanging out with him or disown him as a pet. Having only one person studying and performing experiments on him wouldn’t be too bad. Presumably the gamer pad would still be his. His prior handlers had conceded to him having such a place once they found out about it, so Gordon, kinder than them by far, surely would too. But… but… he liked what they had now. And what if the option of moving out on his own was removed? Just because he wasn’t sure yet if he wanted to take it didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy having it be an option. Even if such was the case for no other reason than because he’d never had such an option before.

“And of course if uh… you don’t want us looking at them, we’ll just delete them. Or if you want them for yourself, we’ll just copy them over to a flash drive and give it you,” Gordon said, ending his explanation.

Oh, perhaps Benrey could have the best of both worlds after all. But… “Don’t you wanna look at them?” He was the one with the questions and who cared what Benrey was enough to feel sad for him not knowing.

“Yeah, I do. So if you’re like… okay with me looking at them, that’d be neat. But it’s a privacy thing so I wouldn’t look if you didn’t want me to.”

“Or he would try not to,” Coomer added, lifting a hand. “Curiosity is a powerful beast and whoever finds your records will have to look a little bit no matter what to make sure we have the right files and that we have all of them. It would be easy to accidentally look a little more than is necessary to sate it.”

“Uh… yeah, that. So I guess it’s still a risk no matter what. But better any of us look a bit too much on accident than Breen trying to get you back into custody or something. … Would he even be able to do that? Like you can phase through stuff, right? So you should be uncontainable unless there’s a material you can’t phase through or a way disable that power or… just your powers in general.”

“They could contain me before, maybe they have the stuff still, I don’t know.” And Benrey wasn’t going to tell him how because the less people who knew, the better. Being locked up was lame and boring beyond anything else in existence except for maybe watching paint dry.

“All right, we should definitely do something about that then… unless I guess, you don’t want us to for some reason. Which I don’t know why you wouldn’t but what do I know?”

“Nah, get rid of them. Or uh… actually, I want them. Yeah, find them and give them to me.” If they had to be found anyway, Benrey might as well get an answer to the question of if he had a true form and what it was if so. And then he could tell Gordon if he was an alien or made in the lab from alien stuff so Gordon could finally stop being sad for him.

“We’ll need information from you then,” Coomer said, “if your information is already in the lab we need to look through it to find it and thus, we need to know what to look for. We might also need to know where to go if we do end up needing to go back to the old facility to obtain them.”

Damn. But if Benrey wanted his best shot at obtaining those files than at least some of his mysterious backstory would end up being revealed to them no matter what. Unless he decided to look all by himself. But if his stuff was amongst the information already being moved to the new place, he might be caught and then if Breen or someone else recognized him, they wouldn’t just be reminded that he was out and about but know exactly where he was. Which would potentially be very annoying, he’d rather not deal with that. So probably it was worth it. And well, it’s not like he had anything better to do. Participating in a heist with his pals to steal some top secret scientific records sounded like fun.

He pushed off the wall and walked the rest of the way into the kitchen, pulling out the one remaining chair to join them sitting at the table. “Uh… Benrey’s the name I chose for myself. They called me, um… Subject X, just X for short. The files are titled like that or at least some of them are anyway. I never looked at all of them.” Only now did the idea seem at all appealing. Gordon’s fault because he was a dumbass who cared so much about things that didn’t matter to the point it was rubbing off on Benrey.

“Damn,” Coomer said, “Gordon you’re right, he is quite tragic. Even Bubby got a name even if it was based off his serial code. Benrey just had a letter.”

“It’s not tragic. Just boring and uncreative ‘cause uh… they were boring and uncreative. And I’m not human anyway so maybe a single letter would’ve been fine. I’m not lame and boring though so I named myself.”

The look Gordon gave him, very similar to the look he’d given him earlier after he’d shared his earliest memory, said he disagreed and found it tragic as well. Humans were so sensitive about things sometimes, it was annoying. Some things were just the way they were without it being worthy of dwelling on enough to elicit an emotional reaction.

Thankfully Gordon didn’t make any move to say anything dumb this time. Though he did reach out to lightly touch Benrey’s hand where he had it resting on the table in front of him. Benrey let him because why not? If trying to comfort him made Gordon feel better then he’d put up with it. But if they were touching hands anyway… Benrey lifted his and pushed his into Gordon’s, entwining their fingers together. Gordon flinched and gently tried to retreat but Benrey didn’t let him. He’d started it so if he wanted to pull away, he had to put real effort into it.

“Anyway,” Benrey continued, leaning a bit more onto the table but not changing his tone to hopefully make it even more awkward, “choosing my own name’s better. Every time someone at the lab did a name change ‘cause they didn’t like their first it was like… a big deal. Everyone talked ‘bout it and some people didn’t like it and always had to say so. A bunch of dumb nonsense, easier to just chose a name I like from the start, right?”

“I guess uh… I can’t argue with that.” Gordon had apparently accepted his fate was holding Benrey’s hand now as he made no more moves to try to free himself, instead staring down at center of the table. “It uh… would’ve indeed been been easier to just pick my own name from the start, I guess. But uh…”

Coomer cut in as Gordon trailed off. “What part of the Black Mesa facility did your handlers work in?”

“If you go, I’m going with you.” It’d be more fun that way. “So I’ll lead the way.”

If Coomer noticed or felt any certain way about Gordon and Benrey holding hands on the table he didn’t show it as he replied. “Fair enough. We will also probably want to inform Bubby, Tommy and perhaps Darnold of this plan. Especially if we do have to sort through all the data we already have. I’m sure having their assistance with that will be quite helpful.”

Damn. If Benrey was going to reveal his letter thingy to everyone he’d have preferred to just do it all at once instead of having to bring it up multiple times. Too late now though. “Tell them in the group text thingy.”

“Shouldn’t you tell them?” Gordon asked as Coomer was already pulling out his phone.

“Nah, Coomer types faster.” He didn’t want to deal with their possible reactions in case they also thought it was tragic or whatever.

“No worries, I will convey all the relevant information.”

~

After wishing Coomer a farewell, Gordon closed the front door and turned back to Benrey. “Also, I uh… apologize if I upset you earlier.”

Damn, just when Benrey thought the talking was done and they could play some games instead. “Nah, wasn’t upset just… surprised. Never considered I might have a true form or whatever.” He’d also never considered possibly have a family too.

“Well, sorry for springing that idea on you. But… you okay?”

Benrey turned the TV and opened the Game Cube before answering. “Why wouldn’t I be? What you wanna play?” There was no way he was going to let Gordon’s first day off work go by without pulling him into a longer than normal gaming session.

“Whatever you’re in the mood for is fine with me. But um… I was just thinking, a lot of heavy conversation happened about you today and you revealed some… stuff. So I just wanted to check in or whatever, make sure you’re doing okay.”

Benrey stared at the games lined up like books next to the TV stand before pulling out Mario Party 5. They could set the turn order really high and play until one of them won or went insane. After popping it in, he looked back up at Gordon. “Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

Gordon sighed as he moved over the couch, accepting the controller Benrey handed to him. “Kinda hard not to, dude.”

“I’m not human.” Benrey sat next to him. “That stuff doesn’t affect me the way it would you.” Even if he was a ‘social animal that was emotionally abused’ and had been sad about it once upon a time, it was over now so he was good to go. Gordon didn’t need to bring it up or feel bad about it.

“Maybe that’s true, I don’t know enough to say but… I have trouble believing that you’re entirely indifferent to it. Otherwise it wouldn’t take so much to get you to share.”

“Not fair, I shared a lot today.”

“Yeah, after weeks of barely sharing anything about yourself, you share a grand total of like two solid things and that’s considered a lot. And both of them are sad and fucked up as fuck. But that’s besides the point. What I want to say is I’m not good at this shit, being comforting or whatever, but if you ever do want to talk about it, I can listen. Heck, if you don’t want me to say anything or even try to offer any kind of comfort, that’s fine, just you know, if you ever need to talk to someone about it… It’s not like you can go to a therapist and hoped to be believed. So… yeah, I’m here for you or whatever.”

“Fine, if I ever need a shoulder to cry on, I’ll pick yours, ‘kay?” Assuming he could cry anyway because now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he could. Vaguely he remembered maybe crying in the past when he was young but such memories weren’t the type he had any desire to poke at. “Now can we stop being emotional and play some damn video games?”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore either.”

Despite it not being his turn, Benrey picked Luigi before Gordon could. That’s what Gordon got for feeling bad for Benrey when Benrey hadn’t asked him to care that much and for being the one to bring up all the stuff he was feeling bad for Benrey over. It’d be easier for both of them if he just didn’t try to ask about anything he knew would have an answer he would find tragic.

~

Gordon held Benrey like a almost like a pillow; arms wrapped around him, head resting on his chest. Whether he knew knew Benrey had shifted to make himself more comfortable for him – less dense and thus less heavy where he lay on Gordon’s arm and a little bit softer – was hard to tell. The main benefit of the position was it left Benrey’s hands free to play the Game Boy, or for now, to run his fingers through Gordon’s hair, straightening it out after being pulled up in a pony tail all day.

“You should let your hair down sometime.” It would probably look nice with the waviness it had going on.

Gordon let out a small groan. “It’d get my face all the time if I did.” As if it didn’t escape and end up in his face halfway through the day anyway. Though that did largely have to do with his inability to make the ponytail particularly tight using only one hand. Perhaps Benrey should start offering to do that for him. Tommy brushed Sunkist’s fur fairly frequently after all so Benrey should perhaps do the same with his pet. Or alternatively if Gordon found it annoying…

“You could cut it?”

“I like the way it looks long even if it is kinda a pain. … Or maybe I should cut it, it’d be easier.”

“Hmm… I like the way it looks long too.” Honestly, Benrey could imagine him without long hair, it just wouldn’t feel right.

Gordon hummed an acknowledgment but otherwise didn’t respond. Even now that this had become set in routine, they didn’t talk much while cuddling. The goal was Gordon sleeping after all. But also, limiting their conversation options somewhat, talking about it was still a thing neither of them did by unspoken agreement lest they made it awkward again.

Because they never talked about it, making it possible to pretend it didn’t happen, Benrey letting himself purr to help Gordon fall asleep had become easier over time. Tonight though… something was different. Gordon was still delightfully warm and soft, so much contact with him a pleasant ‘a lot’. But Benrey couldn’t relax into it as much he normally did no matter how long he lay here, stroking Gordon’s hair.

Emotions were dumb and stupid, thinking about them even more so. But the looks Gordon had given him after sharing his earliest memory and assigned letter had haunted him off and on all day. Now lying in the quiet dark, in his arms, it was a bit harder to push such thoughts out his mind. … Gordon feeling bad for him had rubbed off into Benrey feeling bad too. Not for himself though, for sure, he couldn’t be permanently hurt after all, especially not by people he’d never liked, he just… felt bad for making Gordon sad. Yeah, that was it. His status as an experiment in Black Mesa wasn’t worth thinking about due to it being boring, not because it was tragic or whatever. That’s why he never shared much about it and now that he had, he wasn’t sad because he’d been thinking about it when he normally didn’t but instead because he’d made his pet, Gordon upset.

Alas, figuring out the unfamiliar emotion roiling inside him didn’t make it go away. If anything it made it worse, filling him with an odd uncomfortable energy that made it hard to keep still and quiet. Gordon wasn’t asleep yet though; by now he was well versed in the way Gordon’s breathing deepened and slowed as he drifted off. Purring always did seem to make him fall asleep faster but Benrey didn’t seem able to muster one right now. Ugh! It was all Gordon’s fault for being sad about things he didn’t need to be sad about. As frustrating as that was though, Benrey couldn’t just leave him to fend for his own sleep. Sometimes he had nightmares even when Benrey held him. Blue sweet voice fixed it, though going to that length always woke him, but it was still clearly a problem for him that wasn’t going away any time soon.

And so because he couldn’t move but had to do something… “Remember earlier when uh… you said I could talk to you ‘bout stuff?”

Gordon shifted, tilting his head and pulling away enough to look at him properly even though in the dark without his glasses he couldn’t see, right? So why move? “Yeah. Got uh… something you wanna talk about?”

“Nah, just um… you too. Anything you wanna talk ‘bout, spill your trauma and all that, I’ll listen.” He’d thought about saying so not long after Gordon had made his offer to do the same but hadn’t wanted to bring the chatter back around to stuff like that when they’d finally escaped it. Here though, it wasn’t so bad.

“Oh, okay, thanks. I’m good though so I don’t need to...”

Benrey cut him off with a scoff. “Yeah ‘cause I help you fall asleep every night ‘cause you just like cuddling me that much, huh?” Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up but how else was he supposed to respond to Gordon trying to claim to be okay? Benrey might not know much about trauma, the causes or the ways it showed up in humans, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. The nightmares leading to this arrangement they’d made weren’t normal; Gordon wasn’t okay. Maybe that’s why he was so worried about Benrey, he was projecting and by worrying about Benrey’s perceived problems, he could more easily avoid his own.

“I uh… guess you have a point.”

“Yeah, I do so get back here.”

With a sigh, Gordon obeyed, snuggling into Benrey once more, holding him a bit tighter. “I’m just… being pathetic. I survived, right? So it should be fine now but… it’s not. My hand’s still gone and… and I can still remember what all the dead things smelled and looked like. And there was a bit there when I was sure I was going to die alone and no one would care or even know. Everyone left me to die alone and I… I’m sorry, I’m being weird.”

“Nah, dude, I just said you could talk me to so it’s fine.” Benrey returned to petting Gordon’s hair, his other arm holding him around the shoulders. “Some of that’s my fault… sorry.” In his defense, he hadn’t known how big a deal it was at the time. Hadn’t known Gordon’s hand wouldn’t grow back. His belief that the outcome wouldn’t be nearly as bad as it had turned out didn’t make said outcome any better though.

“Hmm… guess I should maybe still be mad. But I just… this is nice, helps a lot. Thank you for… this and stuff.”

“You’re welcome.” Benrey was a good pet owner. Even if he’d played a part in causing what was wrong, he was doing his best to make it better. That had to make up for some of it at least, right?

Gordon chuckled slightly as he loosened his tight hold a little, adjusting himself slightly but making no move to pull away again. “Gosh, it’s interesting how knowing each other better makes so much difference, huh?”

A lot had changed between them at the same time so many other things had changed for Benrey too. All of it for the better, more than he deserved probably. … “Sorry ‘bout the hand in particular.”

“I uh… guess I forgive you. You didn’t know. Intentions aren’t everything but they matter. And uh… honestly, an apology’s more than I got from the others so… thanks for that too.”

Benrey wasn’t sure how to respond so he just kept stroking his fingers through Gordon’s hair because petting was supposed to be soothing, right? It’s what Tommy did for Sunkist whenever she got antsy about something. Seemingly it worked here too because even though Benrey continued to be unable to muster a purr for him, Gordon did eventually drift off. Benrey could gently free himself and get up now or just reach for the Game Boy but… it had been a few days since he’d last slept and today in particular had felt quite long so a nap or even sleeping through the night wouldn’t hurt. Waking up with Gordon in the morning was kind of nice.

~

Next Chapter

[late-to-the-party-81]

You bring me closer to God - Ch1

AN: Righto, I’m here to pop my Buckquín cherry (thanks @sidepartskinnyjeans and @buckyismybicycle for enabling)

Big thanks also to @buckyismyconstant and @sparkagrace for the song recommendations - NIN and Placebo hit just right.

Beta’d by @hannahshattuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board by me

HSB Prompt is Long day at work  - thank you @buckybarnesevents

Master list| Hot Bucky Summer Master list

Summary: Bucky’s pissed off, his blood boiling, but all he can think about is taking out his frustrations on a certain, newly-minted Falcon. 

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Joaquín Torres

Word Count: 1.7k

CW: Mean Dom Top Bucky, Enthusiastic Sub Bottom Joaquín, Pre-established ‘Situationship’, Male Masturbation, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Degradation, Sub Space, Non-Verbal Joaquín, Flash backs

Bucky was pissed. 

Angry. 

Incandescent with rage.

It was bad enough that he had to deal with what seemed to be an never ending stream of war-lords, manic super-scientists with robots, or mal-adjusted mutants, but add to that the fact that Joaquín seemed determined to throw himself into harm's way, Every. Single. Time. had him practically frothing at the mouth.

It had been an annoyance when they first met, when he’d found out how the baby-faced Lieutenant had tried to single handedly stop the Flag Smashers, but since they’d started, whatever this was, Bucky was finding it harder and harder to reign in his violent tendencies.

Luckily, for all concerned, Sam didn’t say anything out loud about Bucky’s mood shifts, although he had smirked, earning him a ‘murder glare’, before Bucky stalked away.

But today? Today the little idiot had jumped in front of Bucky, to protect him from some unknown projectile. Sure, Quín wasn’t completely helpless - he had his suit and his wings - but that wasn’t the point. Bucky was eminently more indestructible, and the kid shouldn’t be risking himself like that, especially not for him.

Once the battle was won, and SWORD were making their way in to carry out clean up - of weapons, rubble and unidentified goo - Bucky had ignored his partner and his, well, sort-of other type of partner - lover, fuck buddy, whatever - and stomped off to his part of the jet, the place he sat when he didn’t want to talk to the others. Sam and Quín had tiptoed around him, and Bucky had pretended not to see the pointed looks his two winged colleagues gave each other as he cleaned and resharpened each knife in his current arsenal.

The newly minted Falcon had only tried once to speak to him, but hadn’t even gotten a word out, his mouth gaping like a fish when Bucky had just growled at him.

“Not now!”

He’d almost felt bad when Quín's expression had fallen, like some kind of kicked puppy, but only almost. He was still too mad.

It had been a tense two hour flight back to up-state New York, and the new Avengers compound. It was late when they got there, and Bucky knew there was no point going home to Brooklyn, because he’d just have to be right back here first thing in the morning for the debrief.

As he’d exited the high-tech stealth plane, Sam had risked bodily injury to snag his arm.

“Don’t be too hard on him, please. Think about what his actions really mean.”

Bucky had just grunted and shaken off Sam’s arm, before walking away at high speed, to his  quarters. He needed to relax, but his blood was up and he knew only one thing was gonna take the edge off. 

His thumbprint let him through the door with ease, and he kicked it shut before crouching to unlace his combat boots. Those were thrown unceremoniously in a corner and then he began to divest himself of his tac vest and other clothes with as much speed as he could manage without damaging the clothes. He was moving as he dropped the various types of black fabric to the floor. Each knife was pulled from its holster and flung at the well scarred coffee table, every single one landing with a reverberating thunk into the wood.

By the time Bucky moved into the bedroom, which only had the barest minimum of personal touches, he was naked and only carrying his phone. He opened his music app and cast a playlist to the smart speaker, placing the phone on the dresser

As he walked to the bathroom, the music started to play. The beat thudded through his body and the lyrics spoke to his state of mind.

He started the shower, stepping under the water before it had even fully warmed, needing to wash, not only the sweat and the grime from day away, but also the anger and frustration too.

Goddamn it. Why did Joaquín have to risk himself like that? Fucking selfish, is what it was. Sam would have been devastated if his protege had been seriously injured, or worse. And him? Well he obviously did like the young man, that much was clear by the number of times he’d been balls deep inside him. He obviously didn’t want to see the young man hurt.

He smirked to himself.

Unless it was hurt in a specific, consensual way by him, of course. Quín did cry such pretty tears, after all.

Water cascaded over him, soothing, and Bucky let his hands travel down his torso and he remembered the last time he’d indulged himself in the soft warmth of Joaquin’s body.

It had been a standard, post mission fuck, the pair of them full of adrenaline and needing to get it out. It had been the younger man who’d started it that time. He’d left the hanger first, leaving Sam and Bucky to finish up. They were all going to get washed up and then meet in the conference room for the debrief. Sam had turned one way to head to his room and Bucky the other, when a closet door shot open and Bucky was dragged inside. 

He’d feigned surprise, of course. He’d know that Joaquín was lying in wait for him, because of the erratic thumping of his heart and stuttered breathing that Bucky had heard from 10 feet away. It was cute though.

“You need something, baby boy? Something so urgent you couldn’t just wait and come knock on my door?”

But Quín had already started to go non-verbal, his need taking over and he’d just rubbed his body up against Bucky’s, nose to Bucky’s neck, inhaling the sweat of the mission, and letting out a pathetic whine. Luckily Bucky knew just what his boy needed.

“You wanna get caught, don’t you? Want everyone here, all of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, knowing just what a slut you are, huh?”

It had barely taken a touch to Joaquin’s shoulder to have him falling to his knees, pulling at Bucky’s belt and zipper in his frenzy to get to Bucky’s cock. Bucky had smiled to himself in the dim light of the storage closet, leaning his weight against the door, and watching his lover lose himself. That was until Quín finally wrapped his lips around him, taking him deeply, with sloppy strokes, and Bucky had had to close his eyes, at least momentarily, overwhelmed by just how fucking good Quín’s mouth felt.

He’d let his lover run the show for a few minutes, slobbering and gagging messily, letting out garbled moans and whimpers as he choked himself on Bucky’s dick, but then he’d pulled the young man off him, and reached into his back pocket for the small packet of lube he now always kept with him… for ‘emergencies’.

And Quín had known the drill. As Bucky lubed up his cock, the Baby Falcon had shucked the sinfully skin tight pants he’d worn under his flight suit. Bucky had lifted him, and he’d wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist. The former assassin had spun them around, pressing the younger man’s back to the door. With desperation and a lack of finesse, Bucky had managed to get the remains of the lube out of the packet and onto his fingers, summarily spread it over Quín’s tight little hole and roughly pressed one in.

Joaquín hadn’t been able to hide his sudden intake of breath, but had had the forethought to muffle any further noises by biting down on Bucky’s leather jacket. Bucky’s prep had been fast and somewhat lacking, but at this point neither of them cared. They’d both needed to be fucking. Right then!

Bucky had lined himself up and sunk home and Quin’s pathetic whimpers had made his dick impossibly harder and spurred him on. The fuck might have been inelegant, and over faster than either would have liked, but it was what they had both needed.

Back under the spray of his Stark paid for shower, Bucky’s hand drifted down to his cock, fully awake after exploring those memories. He wrapped his right hand around it and started to jerk himself with quick, firm strokes. He could have gone slow, but just like that last time with Quín, he needed to get off. He needed to come, and hopefully exorcise the demons currently plaguing him.

He focused on the memories of Quín’s channel squeezing him tight, of the way the smaller man had shuddered in his arms each time Bucky brushed his prostate. The way those involuntary movements had been also accompanied by the most musical of whimpers and sighs, driving Bucky’s hips to snap up, harder and faster. 

Fuck!

He loved the way Quín’s long dark eyelashes alway brushed over his cheekbones, and how his warm, tawny skin flushed pinker as the young man got more and more aroused. He’d get frantic as his orgasm got closer, moving his hips to meet each thrust, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes…

Bucky came with a shout, barely managing not to crack the tiles on the wall with his left hand as he leant against it. Panting, he watched his spend circle the drain, white and sluggish, before slowly sinking down it. 

He’d achieved his goal, but it hadn’t worked as he’d hoped - His cock was still rock hard and his blood was still boiling in his veins. There was now only one possible way to assuage the feelings coursing through him.

He finished up the rest of his shower quickly. As he towelled himself dry, he knew that in theory he should take the time to properly clean his arm and give it a tune up, as well as giving his shoulder a break from wearing it, but that would have to wait until later. He needed two hands for what he had in mind, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

Chapter 2

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel @kmc1989

[eatprayworm]

the other side

high&low drabble. tw for references to child neglect and abuse, but nothing graphic.

the story of how shidaken and odajima met.

The house next door is loud.

Sometimes. Not always. It's loud today, muffled shouts, the sound of furniture banging. A woman crying crying. Yuken stays where he is, looking for earthworms and bugs under the stones in his overgrown backyard. The noise is nice, almost. At least someone's house is alive. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend it's his.

A door opens and slams shut. Yuken huddles a little in the grass, not wanting to be seen. It's one thing to listen, another thing to be caught as a witness. The man who lives there is mean.

A grasshopper jumps from the long blades of grass, and survival instincts flutter away with it. Yuken chases after it, trying to catch it in his dirty hands. He follows it to the fence separating his house with his neighbor's, and that's when he stops. Two of the boards are broken, and through the gap, he can see a boy his age, furiously scrubbing away tears from his face. There's a mark on his right arm, like someone grabbed him too hard. Yuken's arm aches in sympathy.

"Why are you crying?" he asks.

The boy sniffs loudly, shoots him a dirty look through red-rimmed eyes. "I'm not crying. Boys don't cry."

Yuken frowns. That doesn't seem right.

"I'm a boy, and I cry sometimes," Yuken says. Like the time he fell too hard in the driveway. When the shadows in his room are too dark. When he wonders if his parents have left him for good this time.

"Well, you shouldn't," the other boy mumbles. "They'll hurt you for that."

Yuken blinks at the other house. He doesn't ask who 'they' are. Maybe it's everyone.

"What're you doing anyway?" the boy asks.

"Catching bugs," Yuken says. Making friends, he doesn't say. They're his friends, if even for a little while.

"Your parents will get mad."

Yuken shrugs, rips out a weed at his feet. Not deep enough; he didn't get the roots. "My parents aren't home a lot."

The other boy blinks, like he's never heard of that happening before. So are his parents around all the time? Yuken sighs, wistful. "It's always so quiet. Your house is noisy. That's cool."

A severe expression crosses this little boy, far too haunted for someone the age of six. Yuken isn't scared. Their faces look the same.

"You don't want this noise," he whispers, like it's a secret. Yuken doesn't look away - just finds himself nodding. A secret, then. Maybe they're friends now?

Yuken asks where the boy will be starting school - and it's the same elementary school as him! Yuken smiles, pleased. "They serve food at school," he says, matter of fact. "I'm most excited about the food."

The other boy blinks again, confused. "You are?"

Yuken nods, rips another weed. Weeds are unwanted plants. That's what his father said once. Yuken doesn't want unwanted plants in his yard.

"My mom forgot to buy groceries again," Yuken says. It's not her fault. She and Dad are busy. They're adults with jobs, they have a lot to do. Yuken doesn't blame them. He saw his mother yesterday, and she promised to buy groceries tomorrow.

The other little boy stares. Yuken doesn't understand why. Surely his parents forget sometimes too?

Silence stretches, and then the other boy reaches into his pocket, throws a packet to Yuken. "Here."

Yuken catches it - some kind of sweet treat. He beams. "Really?"

The boy nods. Yuken unwraps it carefully, forces himself to take a small bite only. He wants to savor this.

It's only when the other boy hisses 'hey don't cry! what did I say about crying?' does Yuken feel the warm drops on his face.

"Sorry," he snuffles with a laugh. He wipes his tears away. "It's really good."

"I'll try to bring you more later," the boy says.

Yuken smiles. Sugar dances on his tongue, spins a sweet web in his chest. "Thank you! Oh, I'm Yuken."

The boy smiles, just a little. "I'm Shida."

Shida glances over his shoulder, at his house. His lips thin. "I gotta go. I'll see you later."

Yuken waves goodbye to his new friend, and once Shida is inside, he flops in the jungle of grass, takes another bite of his treat. This one is even sweeter.

[korereapers]

Title: Watermelon sugar

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: DC/Batman

Pairing: Edward Nygma/Jonathan Crane, scriddler

Tags: Period smut (expect blood and, stuff related to it), PWP, FEELINGS

This was a present for @sexyinaratkindaway, who deserves the whole world <3

Thank you, scriddler server!

AO3

Jonathan’s teeth slightly shine behind his lips, curling in an almost invisible smile that makes Edward shudder.

“Are you sure that-” he starts, his voice hoarse, but as usual, Jonathan is having none of it.

“Feeling self conscious? That’s new.”

They both know it isn’t. Why would Edward take so much care of his image if he weren’t so fixated on it? On the right hair dye, the right shade of contacts. A perfect suit that accentuates his features, shoes so polished they seem to compete against the sun.

Self conscious it is, right.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

His pants are still on, and it’s getting a little uncomfortable, but nothing he cannot handle. Long fingers caress his face, a thumb softly pressing his lower lip.

“Then explain it to me. With words that are proof of that brilliant brain of yours.”

He knows what to say, how to make Edward’s heart flutter. The Riddler can be a master manipulator, but nobody can play with people’s hearts like the Scarecrow. That’s just facts, but he would never admit it out loud.

“I’m bleeding.”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow.

“So? A wound? Should a wound stop us?”

Edward groans so deep he hurts his throat.

“I’m on my period, you annoying bastard.”

Jonathan’s smile becomes bigger, and it’s almost imperceptible, but Edward knows him well. He is enjoying this torture.

“So?”

“It's disgusting! I feel disgusting.”

“I fail to see the correlation, Edward.”

He knows Jonathan is trying to piss him off, which he is kind of succeeding at. Edward is indeed kind of mad, unable to stand this man playing dumb in a situation like this.

"I'm on my period… and you want to have sex."

Jonathan's eyes shine in something that Edward has seen before, but that he doesn't fully recognize. It's a hunger that hits him deep, making his legs weak. Jonathan has that effect on him.

"Yeah."

"What about the blood? About the smell? About making a goddamn mess?"

Okay, there is definitely hunger in Jonathan's eyes, his lower lip trembling a little in what Edward recognizes as barely contained desire.

"We can use towels. I don't care about the mess."

"I really don't get-"

"I want you in every way. Is that so hard to believe?"

It really is, but Edward doesn't say anything. A part of him feels tempted to just pretend, to use that big ego he has, to flaunt it to hide his insecurities. Before Jonathan's inquisitive eyes, he cannot do such a thing.

He just kisses him, tensing slightly when Jonathan's fingers play with the zip on his pants, nodding slightly when Jonathan looks at him, granting him a silent permission.

Still, he grimaces a little when Jonathan opens the drawer, taking the towels out, carefully placing them on the sheets. Edward obediently sits on them, Jonathan's smile the best treat. He reclaims it again with his lips, trying to relax. Jonathan is not lying. He really wants him like this.

Nervous fingers caress the skin underneath the clothes, and they both shiver, getting rid of them as quickly as they can. Not enough time to think about what they feel if they just focus on the physical sensation.

Edward feels as if he were an unwrapped Christmas present, layer after layer, until he is bare in front of Jonathan. He makes a face when he looks downwards, his thighs already bloody, but Jonathan's expression is one of pure joy.

"God, Edward… Let me. I want to…"

He licks his lips, and Edward finds himself mimicking the gesture.

"Strange tastes you have…"

Jonathan's smile is a silent promise.

"Oh, you have no idea…"

Edward knows he feels sensitive. He has touched himself while on his period, and it always feels a little bit different. Messier, of course, but also… more intimate.

The way Jonathan kisses his chest, focusing on a racing heartbeat, breath against skin though…

It drives him mad.

Edward has always envied his patience, the way he treats him. Despite how much he clearly wants to eat him out, to be inside of him, he still takes his sweet time to make sure Edward knows how much he likes him.

As if he could forget. Sentimental old man…

“Your heartbeat is getting faster,” Jonathan notes, matter-of-factly. Edward groans, his fingers tangling themselves in Jonathan’s dark, greasy hair.

“And whose fault is it?”

Jonathan doesn’t answer, his gaze focused on Edward’s body. The towel is already stained, that much Edward knows, but Jonathan seems to think nothing disgusting at the sight of it. Quite the opposite.

“I’m dying to…”

“Fuck, just do it then.”

Jonathan’s smile would be creepy to anyone else, but Edward knows him best. He whispers a small curse when Jonathan’s breath caresses his groin, even more when he murmurs a praise that Edward is too overwhelmed to process.

Edward pushes him a little, without thinking, only to make him shut up, only not to think about the whole matter. The warmth gets hot, thin lips against his cock, kissing him softly, a warm tongue circling him when he forgets how to breathe. He moans, his voice hoarse, one of his feet moving unconsciously, his muscles tensing.

“Sensitive…” Jonathan mutters, but he doesn’t stop. Edward’s hand shakes against his nape, Jonathan’s tongue tasting him like the sweetest delicacy. Drinking from every sound he makes, his face a bloody mess. He smiles when Edward looks at him, and his teeth are dirty, but it’s not disgust what pools inside of Edward’s groin.

He giggles softly, the gesture interrupted by a moan when Jonathan does a particularly nice motion with his tongue, taking him by surprise.

“Do that again,” Jonathan whispers against his inner thigh, licking it tenderly afterwards. “I love your laugh.”

Edward swears his soul is leaving his body, Jonathan’s mouth going back to him. It all becomes blurry after a little while, because Jonathan, bless his dark and rotten soul, keeps sucking on him like that, smiling against him from time to time, only stopping to breathe for a couple of seconds.

Something escapes Edward’s lips. Maybe a word, a plea. Maybe it’s just a whimper that barely resembles something coherent. A warning that Jonathan ignores, lost in the pleasure of his flesh and blood.

He doesn’t stop even when Edward spasms, a deep sound leaving his throat, so utterly surprised by the strength of his orgasm that he cannot even pronounce Jonathan’s name. They both know he tries, though.

The towels are probably a mess under them, but Edward forgets to care about it for a blissful moment. He does notice how Jonathan licks his lips, feverishly getting closer, probably to kiss him, but Edward stops him just in time.

“Clean… clean yourself first.”

“And then?”

“And then… I want you inside.”

And God, Jonathan smiles like a fool in love, blood around his mouth, like a messy kid after eating his favorite cake. Edward laughs breathlessly, and he can see Jonathan physically restraining himself from kissing him.

Later, though. Later there will be all the kissing he wants.