#he also looks different from the last time I drew him loll

[alectoperdita]

Oh hell, I am all about them drugged confessions. If/whenever you’re up for it. 💕

From Put That Guy in a Situation(TM) Ask Game

Jumped this one ahead in the queue since it's someone's birthday. 💜💜💜 Enjoy, my friend! I hope this has enough of the stuff you dig about them.

13. Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions

content warnings: referenced non-consensual drug use and mildly spicy because Seto is thirsty

---

The city lights stabbed into Seto's eyes. The city's heartbeat—a frantic cacophony of bumper-to-bumper traffic, music spilling out of late-night shops and restaurants, and an overwhelming pulse of humanity—pulsed against the back of his head like a second migraine.

He lifted his heavy head and tried to get a better look at his surroundings. Not an easy feat when the world wouldn't stop spinning. Seto could feel the planet's rotational force itself.

In the sky, a bloated, sickly yellow moon hung on the black canvas, a dim bulb when compared to the Oriental Pearl Tower's neon blue and magenta on the opposite riverbank. The phalanx of lit skyscrapers behind the landmark formed a blinding wall that threatened to lighten the night sky.

No wonder they were sitting at a standstill in traffic. He was in the Bund. Shanghai. He was in Shanghai. Not for the first or second time, but the city's nightlife never failed to overwhelm.

It came back to him in bits and pieces. The Pan-Asia Duel Monsters Championship was in China this year, which KC was a sponsor of, along with a dozen international and domestic corporations. Seto wasn't here to compete, though. He was here to do business and build guanxi.

Which meant night after night of hard drinking and tedious back slapping as Seto endured their patronizing compliments about his passable Mandarin. Endless rounds of maotai until his blood must be 90% alcohol. That was the preferred poison of the old-school elites, the ones who built their wealth on the backs of a rapidly booming economy that outpaced everyone's wildest imagination. Not even Japan had sustained that kind of boom in the post-war years.

Potential liver failure was the price of doing business in this country.

That was last night, though. Seto was sure of that much, even if the passage of time seemed theoretical at best. Tonight, he'd been swept into a gaggle of their children, mainly the sons of the previous night's party officials and business moguls.

The fuerdai. His "peers."

Ha! Gozaburo had handed him nothing. Everything Seto owned, everything he accomplished, was through his own sweat and blood.

Seto will give them one thing: their tastes were decidedly less provincial. While their fathers drank baijiu like fish drinking water, they preferred cocktails, or at least pitchers of iced green tea mixed with Crown Royal.

Maybe that was his first mistake. Maybe he shouldn't have underestimated how fucked up he could get on such a simple mixture.

That was the last thing he could remember. He drew a yawning gap between the afterparty at the club and this taxi cab.

Seto sank into the seat and squeezed his eyes shut. His stomach lurched. Perhaps it was a good thing that they were stuck in traffic. He might not be able to keep it down in stop-and-go traffic.

An abrasive—a familiar abrasive voice—encroached from the fringes, though. An equally combative voice shot back in a different language.

Seto's head lolled to the side, away from the window and toward the other passenger in the backseat. Reluctantly, he pried his heavy eyelids open. God, why was he so tired? It felt like he'd pulled several all-nighters in a row.

His fellow passenger was Jounouchi, locked in a heated conversation/argument with the cab driver.

Right. Jounouchi was also in Shanghai this week. Except he was here to compete in the tournament. And unlike Seto, he didn't speak a lick of Chinese.

Not that his laughable grasp of English fared any better.

"Fuck, I'm telling ya, it's the other Marriott!" Jounouchi groaned in Japanese, running a frustrated hand through his bird's nest hair. It looked softer than it had any right to be, though. The strands ought to be bleached to hell and back after this many years.

But Jounouchi had been updating his wardrobe and his deck in recent years. Every victory advanced his look and style, and even netted him some media training like someone deserving of media notice, which was why he was playing in the Pan-Asian championship. Seto couldn't ignore him like he once did, like he still tried to in vain sometimes.

(And sometimes, he very much didn't want to ignore Jounouchi, wondering if he could catch the other man's attention in return...)

None of that explained why they were in the same cab, though.

Jounouchi tried again to communicate. It hurt to listen to him butcher English to that extent. The cab driver appeared to grow even more irate, threatening to eject them entirely.

Giggles spilled uncontrollably out of him. Of course! Of course, Jounouchi's incompetence got them stranded on the opposite end of the city from their hotel.

Fortunately, he was a snack to look at, even if his brains were nothing to write home about.

Seto's words croaked out of him, repeating in Mandarin what Jounouchi had been trying to convey. God, why did it hurt so much to speak? But even his drunken slur sufficed, earning a grousing retort from the driver that Seto should've just said so sooner while shooting a death glare at his other passenger through the rearview mirror.

At the sound of Seto's voice, Jounouchi jolted in shock, releasing the driver's headrest he had been clinging to. After several awkward moments of staring, he inched closer to Seto, stopping short of touching him. But the proximity and the tight enclosure made Seto's skin crawl. Not in an unpleasant way, though. His body tingled and felt a touch flushed.

How would Jounouchi's skin feel against his?

"You alright there, Kaiba?" asked Jounouchi, seemingly floating closer. He waved a hesitant hand in Seto's face.

Base urges welled up in him. He wanted to grab Jounouchi's hand and bite it, no better than a dog, as he once mocked the other man for being. Better yet, he could drag his tongue across the rough palm and lap at his knuckles. Suck his thick fingers into his mouth and learn contentment from how they could fill his mouth.

Seto was never drinking green tea mixed with whisky ever again.

He managed a small noise of confirmation before he twisted away, curling as best as he could around the seatbelt. Something like a whimper pushed at the back of his throat, but he refused to release it. He wouldn't humiliate himself any further. Just as he wouldn't crawl across the middle seat and cuddle into Jounouchi's lap.

But god, he wanted that so much it hurt.

A warm hand landed on his back, and he nearly surrendered as Jounouchi rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"It's okay." Jounouchi spoke softly, but somehow it rang louder than the many decibels of Shanghai traffic. "We'll be back at the hotel in time. Just hang in there."

Seto spent the rest of the journey folded into himself, wedged firmly against the side of the taxi, trying and failing not to tremble under Jounouchi's caring touch. With a hushed tone, Jounouchi explained what had happened. It was pure coincidence that he ran into Seto and his "party" at that particular club. (Coincidence is giving chance too much credit. There were only so many high-end nightclubs in the city.) Jounouchi had wandered over to say hi before rejoining his own group. But out of the corner of his eyes, he'd noticed that Kaiba was acting unlike himself. In fact, the entire group seemed a bit off.

Seto was coming to his own conclusion before Jounouchi shared his.

Seto had been drugged. And since he knew better than to take random shit handed to him by strangers, it must've been slipped into his drink. Or maybe it was in the communal cocktail pitcher to begin with.

"They were trying to drag you off to someplace else. Don't ask me where. But you didn't look like you wanted to go, so I stepped in," Jounouchi trailed off. He'd yet to remove his hand, but it sat unmoving, a steadying weight on Seto's back helping to ground him to reality.

"I can't imagine they were happy," Seto muttered.

Jounouchi chuckled. "Not one bit. Acted like I was trying to kill the party. One chick threatened me with her stiletto heel."

"My knight in shining armor." Seto found himself laughing, then regretted it when his head throbbed.

"Don't worry, I didn't hit any of 'em. Mighty tempting, though. I just kinda threw you over my shoulder and high-tailed it outta there. That was how I knew you were really outta it. You barely cursed me out."

Heat associated with both shame and arousal rushed through him. It turned out those biceps he secretly admired weren't just for show.

"Finally, we're here!" exclaimed Jounouchi. His hand also regrettably retreated.

Seto watched blearily as Jounouchi overpaid the driver and leaped out the door. He didn't go far, though. He jogged around the vehicle to Seto's side and yanked open the door. As he leaned in and over Seto to undo the seatbelt buckle, the woody scent of Jounouchi's cologne flooded Seto's nostrils. And his strength was plainly evident as he braced his arms around Seto's shoulders and hip.

"Alright, up we go," urged Jounouchi.

Under any sober circumstance, Seto would've never allowed this to happen. To let Jounouchi touch him, especially as a caretaker. But Seto was the farthest thing from sober, fucked up on whatever combination of alcohol and party drugs he had been unwittingly fed. He didn't have the strength to stand on his own two feet.

So he relied on Jounouchi and his strength. Clung to the man's sweat-slicked neck.

The doorman didn't give them a second glance. Why should he? Seto was simply the latest in an endless stream of drunken guests stumbling back into the five-star hotel.

A lobby concierge approached and tried to help, though. Both Jounouchi and Seto waved him off. Jounouchi likely because he didn't want another stressful not-conversation, and Seto didn't want anyone but Jounouchi touching him right now.

"Hey, what floor?" Jounouchi asked after propping him against the wall of the elevator carriage.

Seto patted down his pockets and was relieved to find his wallet. He didn't expect the fuerdai to rob him blind like a common mugger, but you never knew. He tossed the leather wallet to Jounouchi and croaked, "Key card."

The tournament competitors were provided with single-bed guest rooms. Seto, on the other hand, occupied the Vice Presidential Suite for the week. Their elevator shot toward the top floors, bypassing the dozens of floors between the ground and the suites.

As they ascended, Seto snuck covert glances at the other hand. Despite the air conditioning running at full blast, Jounouchi was still huffing and sweating. Who could blame him? Summer in Shanghai could be blistering.

"Can you walk?" asked Jounouchi when the elevator doors finally parted.

Struck muted, Seto shook his head. His heart raced as Jounouchi wrapped a burly arm around his waist, and together, they hobbled down the hall to the suite's door.

The lights flicked on automatically as they entered, drawing an impressed whistle from Jounouchi as he took in the room.

"Yeah, guess I should've known. You wouldn't be caught dead living like us commoners. Where's the bed in this joint?"

The mention of bed caused something hot and heavy to coil in Seto's navel. Without meaning to, his arm tightened around Jounouchi's neck, which only prompted the other man to grip him tighter, mistaking the action as a plea for more support.

"Bedroom," he moaned, knocking his head against the side of Jounouchi's. He might be imagining it, but he swore Jounouchi shivered and pink flooded down to his neck.

Seconds later, they stumbled into the adjoined bedroom. The spacious room apparently didn't warrant any comments, because Jounouchi deposited Seto on the bed and disappeared from sight.

To say Seto was disappointed was an understatement.

It may be a blessing in disguise. Jounouchi had already done the "decent" thing: extracted him from a dicey situation and brought him to safety. Seto didn't need to embarrass himself in front of the other man any further.

He jumped when a hand grabbed his shoulder, kicking a leg out blindly.

"Relax, it's me."

Silly though it was, Seto did relax as soon as he registered Jounouchi's voice. His firm but careful touch.

"Here. I got you water from the minibar and a cool towel. It's unopened. I promise."

Seto stared helplessly at the two items being offered to him. Jounouchi made no moves, either. They were at a stalemate. At least until the other man sighed and pressed the moist towel to Seto's sweat-dampened forehead. His eyes fluttered closed, and he unleashed a faint moan at how good and chilly it felt.

"C'mon, you gotta drink the water, too. The whole bottle, then I promise to leave you alone."

Panic spiked through Seto's system. Being alone, something he never minded before, suddenly sounded unbearable. He didn't want Jounouchi to leave.

He reached out. Not to take the proffered bottle, as refreshing as its content may be, but to grab Jounouchi's forearm. Jounouchi froze under his clutch.

"You can't leave. I won't let you," said Seto before he could stop himself.

Jounouchi's breath hitched. As he stared at Seto's face, his eyes darkened with something unspeakable. He licked his lips. "Okay, not leaving. Not tonight. Guess someone's gotta keep an eye on you and make sure things don't take a turn for the worse. But you gotta at least let go of my arm. I'll take the couch outside."

Seto slid closer. "I want you—"

Jounouchi gasped. Seto could kiss him at that instant, but his head spun.

He wanted Jounouchi in every conceivable way. Wanted to feel his naked skin against his skin. Wanted to feel his weight pressing down on him as his cock pushed into Seto's hole. Wanted to shatter apart and then let Jounouchi piece him back together in the afterglow, warm and content.

He thought Jounouchi might grant him those things. If only he'd ask for them. But the words remained stubbornly lodged in his throat as sobriety started to creep in on the edges.

"I want you to stay with me," he whispered, holding Jounouchi's shell-shocked gaze.

Tonight and tomorrow. Maybe even for the rest of their lives. One day, Seto would give voice to the whole truth.

Read other prompt fill ficlets here

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I stayed up way too late last night because this wouldn’t leave my brain, so enjoy

The dark lizard shifted, taking on the form of the eldest hero, and the height difference of the other form also lifted Sky up by his throat, cutting off his calls for the others.

“You really think they’ll help you?” The shadow-version of Time hissed with a sneer. “You really think anyone will come to your aid once they know?” Sky fought against the hold. If he could just not be in the air…trying to swing the Master Sword resulted in a mildly annoyed look before the Shadow twisted Sky’s arm until the bones creaked, then broke. His beloved sword clattered to the ground. He would have gasped at the sudden pain if his air wasn’t running out.

The shadow had taken a Hylian form now…holding Sky up by the neck as the Chosen Hero fought weakly against the hold on his neck.

“Ah, heroes.” The Shadow grinned as they froze. “At last… here. A gift for you.” And with that, a black cloud rolled from the Shadow’s outstretched hand and enveloped the heroes…

—

“See, Chosen Hero. They know now. Know that you’re responsible for their suffering and they’re leaving you to suffer…” Sky’s head started to loll back, he was fast loosing consciousness, and the Shadow huffed and shifted his hold to a handful of the tunic and the broach that held his cape in place, allowing Sky to gasp for air.

“They’re not coming to help you…” he taunted. “Look at how they just stand there, furious at what they’ve seen…” Sky couldn’t see. What little of his vision that wasn’t threatened by black spots was blurred by tears. He could barely hear over the wheezing of air through his tortured windpipe and the pounding of his heart. But the worst part was the silence from the other heroes.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could give. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough but he had to say it. He repeated it over and over, going from the rasp of an almost-strangled-a-minute-ago to a desperate plea. The continued silence from the Chain was almost more damning than their anger. He could handle being screamed at. He could work through anger. He could make amends with disappointment. He could work harder, push himself more, do something, as long as they hadn’t given up.

But they had

No one would fight the monster to save him.

Not then, not now

And he was too slow

Too weak

Too late

A mistake

It was fitting that the Shadow took this form…the hero that had the most reason to hate him for what he’d done…

Time broke free from the Shadow’s spell first, yanking a bow away from a still-frozen Wild and launching an arrow at the Shadow. Sky’s pleas for forgiveness were getting weaker. The boy was crumbling in the Shadow’s hold. Time’s aim was terrible, it was honestly a miracle he hadn’t hit Sky, but the arrow bounced off the Shadow’s paldron. The Shadow hissed in a manner more fitting of his reptilian form than his current form, then cracked a grin.

“Don’t you appreciate my gift, Hero of Time? You have a face to put to your suffering. Someone to take the fall for everything that’s gone wrong.” He waved the Chosen Hero without letting go.

“Let him go.” He barked. The Shadow laughed.

“Very well…” the Shadow drew his version of the small gilded sword Time kept on one hip, then drove it twice in quick succession into Sky.

OOF OH NO SKY

GET HIM, TIME

AHHH AJ!!!!

[astranite]

A continuation for the insistent Virgil fans. (Untitled)

Some more for the Virge fans, and everyone because of encouragement! (I’m very happy that you actually liked it.) I enjoyed writing this extra bit, it got longer than I thought it would.

Just calling this a low pressure piece of writing, just get out a something without worrying about it being that perfect on a technical front. I’ve honestly proof read this once, and fairly half-assedly at that. Also throwing medical accuracy out the window for this, ignoring what I know because narrative reasons and can’t be bothered to research what I don’t know.

Don’t worry, Virge’ll be okay. In a bit. Just not right now. (...Might do a third part even.)

Part One (This won’t really make sense without it, and who’d say no to more Thunderbirds?)

Warnings for descriptions of injury.

-----

“Alan, Gordon, go prepare the med bay. “ John voice snapped through both their comms. 

Alan jumped and Gordon’s arms briefly tightened around him. 

“FAB Thunderbird Five,” they both answered, Alan a second behind. He’d been too surprised by Gordon’s serious response coming right next to his ear. Where was the joke about John getting the tinies to do the heavy lifting, or something? When they were paired together, Gordon was always teasingly ribbing him or cracking silly one liners or pointing out funny things to make Alan laugh. Even in the serious moments he has smiley eyes. Alan would even take the awful puns right now. Anything that meant Gordon sounded like Gordon. 

Or Virgil’s puns which were worse, but they’d mean his big brother speaking and okay and right there with him. He had Gordon but Alan just wanted his bigger brothers. 

Gordon nudged him to get them moving towards Thunderbird Two. A hand on his baldric tugged him around when Alan half turned to look behind them. He didn’t see anything, just Scott still crouched on the ground. At this point he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to. 

Inside the green ‘bird, he and Gordon went through the medical equipment. With trained efficiency they prepped the bay for receiving a patient. It was better to be moving. At least he wasn’t just waiting helplessly, straining his ears listening out for the slightest noises, trying to put the pieces together but not able to see what was going on. He was doing something to help his brothers, he was making a difference. Or he hoped so. It still felt like it wasn’t enough, that somehow he could be, should be doing more.

Gordon had more medical training than Alan did so he was preparing medications, drawing stuff up from vials that had scary names with way too many letters in them. Alan recognised the type of strong painkillers he’d only been given once. It had been when he’d last broken his arm, a nasty compound fracture that hurt like screaming white hot. After the drugs he’d apparently been deliriously babbling about spaceships, but he’d have to take his brothers’ words for it because they’d knocked him out good. That Virgil might be injured badly enough to need them wasn’t a fun idea. 

Alan ran system diagnostics on the med scanner one last time, then handed it off to Gordon when it all came up clear. Next he checked their crash cart by the procedure Grandma had drilled into him. He never wanted to think about actually having to use it. Especially not on a brother, not on Virgil. The only thing keeping him from completely freaking out was that Gordon was letting him check it over instead of doing it himself. He knew Gordon trusted him to do it right, but also it meant he didn’t think they would likely need it. 

Gordon’s hand landed on Alan’s shoulder when they were done with the checks and he drew Alan into his side. This time Alan went willingly. He leant heavily on him, because Gordon was warm and comforting and here right now, and Alan needed that. 

Two’s doors opened with a clank and whirr. Alan’s first thought was that Virgil looked so small. He was limp in Scott’s arms, head lolling against Scott’s shoulder.  Scott was carrying him, carefully supporting his body, paying attention only to Virgil, not Gordon and Alan. It made Scott look small too, his lean frame contrasting with Virgil’s bulk. Their eldest brother didn’t usually pick up their biggest brother, that was usually reserved for the younger ones and John because he was a lanky space noodle that even Alan could sort of lift if he tried hard enough. To see Scott bracing himself, face set in stubborn determination, and Virgil not responding at all was awful.

Alan quickly moved towards them, to stand on Scott’s left next to Virgil’s head. On the other side, Gordon did the same, sharing words with Scott. 

He stared at his helpless big brother. Virgil wasn’t meant to be like this. He was the strong one, the steady one who kept them all together. Alan could always rely on him to just be there when he needed him. Now Scott was cradling him like he was the most precious and breakable person in the world. Alan didn’t know what to do.

Gordon kept talking and John too, but Alan wasn’t really listening anymore. The actual medical part would be up to his big brothers.

Scott gently lay Virgil on the med bay bed, hanging on for a second too long before he let go for Gordon to attach a med scanner. Then they were both standing in front of Virgil, leaving Alan once again staring at grey on blue and yellow on blue, with only the tiniest hint of green peeking through. 

Alan still couldn’t tell what was wrong. Virgil was unconscious and that was bad, Alan knew that from his training. But he couldn’t tell why. 

He didn’t think Virgil had hit his head, but he didn’t know. It was definitely possible, the bridge collapsing had left a mess of concrete dust in the air and debris falling. Head wounds bled a lot but he couldn’t see any blood, though maybe Virgil’s dark hair was hiding it. He’d seen a hint of red smeared at the corner of Virgil’s mouth, jumping out because of its bright colour. Hopefully just from chomping on his lip until it bled which was likely enough, but Alan’s mind was going straight to internal bleeding and literally coughing up a lung. 

Dull reflections from the med scanner displays lit up the metal flooring in greens and ambers. Alan let out a sigh of relief at the lack of reds. 

Gordon stepped out of the way to go for something in the storage lockers and Alan finally saw what was wrong with Virgil.

Alan swallowed hard. It looked really, really bad. 

He’d once see Virgil in his workshop straightening out a support strut from the exosuit that during a rescue had gotten all bent out of shape. Except right now Virgil’s leg looked like that. 

His knee was not meant to be at that angle, knees weren’t supposed to be able to do that. Scott was carefully supporting the joint between his hands and Gordon was grabbing splints. 

There’d been much worse injuries Alan has seen up close as a rescue operative. Way worse. But this was his brother. 

He froze up, just staring at Virgil’s leg, unable to look away, until his other brothers blocked his view again.

Gordon finished his tasks and stepped back, leaving Scott was still fussing with equipment near Virgil and watching over him.

As soon as he managed to unlock his body, Alan threw himself at Gordon. He didn’t know whether Virgil’s knee was dislocated with the joint all messed up or the bones completely broken to pieces, and normally he’d just ask Virgil a medical question like this but right now he couldn’t because it was Virgil lying in that bed. 

Alan hid his face against Gordon’s wetsuit. It was the same position Gordon had held him before when he didn’t want Alan to see Virgil’s injuries but this time Alan was trying his hardest to snuggle closer so he didn’t have to see. 

[send-up-my-heart-to-you]

50% into kotlc, here are some thoughts ive had since the 25% mark :D

@aylin-hijabi @that-multi-fandom-hijabi sorry for tagging yall a lot lmao

first thing that comes to mind thats plot-related n not character-related is prentice. he was exiled 12 years ago, same age as sophie. its so obviously not a coincidence. tho i wonder whats up w him n tiergan (idk how to spell lmao i feel like thats wrong)

also, i wonder just how strong sophie is. like, the way she knocked fitz into the wall ??? thats her not knowing the full extent of her powers. i have a feeling shes always gonna be one of those main characters whos extremely powerful but constantly throughout the series she finds new abilities she has. kinda like percy jackson

im also realizing how stupid ill seem if im just overanalysing everything and my guesses are too far-fetched or too deeply thought out to really mean anything lololol

moving to character-related, i adore dex. he seems kinda spiteful tho ??? esp towards fitz. thats prolly bc the vacker family is apparently rlly famous n shit n meanwhile dexs parents were a bad match. still dont rlly get what that means. i feel like theres more to him. also his crush on sophie is adorable

KEEFE. nothing, just... keefe. havent seen much but from what i HAVE seen, hes hilarious. i remember aylin mentioning that hes like leo valdez in that theyre both hot, funny, and traumatized... still waiting on the 'traumatized' part. she also said hes less major in this book n more major in the second book, so maybe ill find out then

midterms are gonna go wrong just wait i just know it

biana seems acc genuine in wanting to be friends w sophie. but there was one point when she was talking to sophie n there was smth like a glare for a moment ?? idk kinda sus to me. maybe im overthinking it cause i cant think of a possible motive

marella seems cool. in the art, shes absolutely gorgeous, but so is everyone in this goddamn book. also notable that the first time i saw her name i misread it as 'redneck' 💀💀💀

stina is a bitch. nothing else to say, except that she looks terrifyingly like me? except different eye color n i wear glasses loll. i hope to see some character development cause i personally hate the trope of "token mean girl" in books (like drew tanaka or zoya nazyalensky) cause theyre so one dimensional n boring (although zoya does become majorly more likeable throughout the grishaverse books, im hoping to see the same in stina)

irrelevant but the amount of times sophie is ending up in the infirmary reminds me of a roleplay w my friends from like three years ago oml the nostalgia (cause there would at all times be at least one character in the infirmary injured or nearly dead bc we needed that drama to keep the rp going LMAO)

overall, theres not as much to say as there was at the 25% mark. (i feel like theres more i wanna say but i cant think of anything.) prolly cause since then, the book has mainly been abt learning abt the elves' world n culture. i think by the 75% point im gonna have a lot more to say, n then ill post the final update thingie when im 100% done w the book

ill be 75% done in 89 pages, but the last day of midterm is tomorrow, so god knows how long thatll take me :') i promise to try thooo

oh also galvins a bitch but i feel like she has trauma fsr idk shes just giving

[zepskies]

Yesss we're at the "almost" end. 😉 Diving into the rest of your lovely review below!

I love a good "morning after" scene lol. Beau is quite snuggly, isn't he?

But when I read that two weeks went by, I just knew that something was off. And I was right. 🙈 However, I loooooved it! 🤭 Thank you for this last spark of drama and tension there. It was just right!

One more bit of conflict before we cross the finish line! 😅

I also loved the little sneak peak into the podcast session. It was funny and flirty. You could feel that they just care so much about eachother. Even Emily did. But still that tension was there.

Hahaa I'm glad you liked that! They really have come to care about each other very much. 💕

And yeah I thought the tete-a-tete between the reader and Carla was needed -- not just for the drama, but for these two to find some mutual ground despite their differences.

Yeah... we all felt that. 😕 And I didn't like the attitude at all. Felt like she was trying to show off that she had more power. And she definitly did, but still... no need to show it here. 😒

In a way, Carla kind of was. None of these characters are perfect, and there was a hint of pettiness Carla had there. She's gone through a lot, but she was also being kind of a bitch there lol. Also, a part of her is also a little bit threatened that the reader, the new woman in her ex-husband's life, is "trying to tell her how to raise her daughter" kind of thing. It's not the reader's intention, but it's hard to not make it come off that way.

Again, how high do you wanna set the bar? 😍🤭 I could imagine this absolutly in my head. It's so Beau. Like he's setting a statement to everyone who see's the couple. 🥰

Ahaha I was very much influenced by the scene in Friends season 2 where Ross carries Rachel out of the coffee shop. 😂

There's just one thing... 🙈 A teeny tiny piece of my heart would've wished he had said that he would stay for Y/N. We all know that Emily is the most important thing for him and Y/N knows that too. She would never expect him to leave Emily behind, but... idk. It feels a little as if she's not so important to him.

So I can see where you're coming from here. If I had drawn this out a bit more, the reader would have had to draw up the courage and ask him again on what he planned to do. Since he'd just heard the news a day or so before, Beau was still just in that zone of not wanting to make a decision yet, or even facing the possibility of leaving her.

He absolutely cares about the reader and wants to be with her. He's just torn between being a good father, doing whatever he can to stay with his daughter, and being, at least in his mind, more selfish by fighting for what he wants, which is to stay in Montana with his new girlfriend.

Idk if you have kids (I don't), but the one thing I've learned from the people in my life who are parents is that your kids come first -- except for that 1% that you get to have what you want lol. (I just watched Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore in Blended recently. That's where that line comes from.)

The reader also knows that he cares about her and is conflicted. Though now that I look back on the chapter, maybe I could've highlighted Beau's internal feelings on the matter more. Thanks for that feedback!

I'm so glad you love this story though. In writing this series I rewatched S3 twice! It made me so wish we had a season 4 to look forward to one day. Sad times. 😭 But we can keep Big Sky alive through fanfic at least! loll 💕

Take Me Home - Part 9

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: We’ve made it, friends. 🥹 But stay tuned, I have a special announcement after the end of this chapter.~

Word Count: 4.1K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

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Part 9: A Choice to Make

There was a man in your bed.

You were pleased to discover that, although your kidnapping of two days ago hadn’t been a dream, being held warm and secure in someone’s arms this morning wasn’t either.

After slowly blinking awake, you looked up from a familiar freckled shoulder to find Beau’s peaceful face. His hair was a floppy mess, his mouth parted in sleep. It made you smile.

His arm was heavy around your waist. It was nice, but you contemplated how you were going to get over to the bathroom and freshen up; maybe fix your hair, brush your teeth, put a little makeup on…

You were careful in how you grasped his hand. You were about to try and peel his arm off without waking him.

“If my alarm hasn’t gone off, means it ain’t morning yet,” Beau rumbled with his eyes still closed.

You stifled a laugh, but you tried again to pull his arm away. He held you to him tighter.

“Where you think you’re goin’?” he asked. His southern drawl was thicker when he was sleepy.

You giggled lightly and rested back against his bare chest in defeat.

“Was gonna try and fix myself up a little, before you saw me in the raw light of day,” you confessed.

You’d caught a glimpse of the yellowing bruise on your cheek last night in the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t a pretty sight. You weren’t really sure how Beau could see past it.

But at your words, Beau finally cracked his eyes open. He made a show of glancing up and down your body, clad in just your black silk camisole. He couldn’t see the rest of you under the blankets, but what he did see, he liked quite a lot—aside from the parts of you that were still healing.  

“You look just right to me,” he remarked, tugging at a strand of your wild, likely knotted hair. “Damn beautiful too.”

Your smile of amusement grew, along with your blush. 

“Flatterer,” you accused. Though you rolled off his arm, fearing you were cutting off his circulation. You moved onto his chest instead, where he held you by your waist and you rested your head over his steady-beating heart.

“Nope. That’s the truth, darlin’,” he said, with a deep sigh. You didn’t see the way his eyes closed in contentment. He knew he’d have to get back into work today, not to mention check on Emily and Carla. For now though, he could focus on this. On you.

“Where do we go from here?” you asked. It was a mere whisper against his skin, but he heard you just fine. It was a good question.

“Eggs or pancakes?” he posed.

You smiled, but you shoved at his shoulder.

“You know what I mean,” you said wryly.

Beau’s resulting deep breath raised you as well. He nodded, brushing your hair back away from your face. You pushed up enough to look up at him.

He gave you a quirking smile.

“I want this to stick,” he admitted. “I wanna take you on a proper date and make it official.”

You smiled back at him. “I’d like that.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “We’re in agreement.”

But you didn’t realize that anything official would take more time than either of you thought. 

Two weeks later, you returned to the precinct with another basket, this one full of snickerdoodle cookies for the whole squad. Poppernak was especially excited when you handed them over to him.

Beau must’ve heard your voice, because he came out of his office to greet you with a broad smile.

“Well, hey there,” he said. You went to him with a smile of your own, but you waited until he’d led you into his office by the small of your back.

Once he shut the door behind him, he pulled you close by the waist and greeted you with a proper kiss. You didn’t even mind the scratch of his beard against your chin. You just caressed his cheek and met him with as much as he gave.

But all too soon, the kiss dimmed to embers, your lips parting softly from his. He thumbed at your cheek.

“To what do I owe this little visit?” he asked.

“Nothing really,” you said. He sat on the edge of his desk, and you followed him, standing between his legs. His hand stayed comfortable on your hip. You toyed with the top button near his collar.

“Fall semester is starting up in a couple of weeks. I don’t have too much of the summer left,” you said. “I’m trying to be ready but…I don’t know.”

You were a bit nervous about it. After the ordeal of this past month, you’d started seeing a therapist to work through some of that trauma. Sometimes you had nightmares, found it hard to focus on things during the day. You worried that it would affect your work once your classes started up.

Beau knew what that thinly veiled worry in your eyes meant; you’d confided in him after your first therapy session a few days ago. He had been supportive, and even somewhat open to your suggestion that he see a professional himself, for the things he still held deep inside.

“The rocky summer’s almost over,” he encouraged, squeezing your hip. “You’re gonna do great, sweetheart.”

You thanked him with a smile, though your fingers became more gripping on his shirt.

“There is something else that’s kinda bothering me,” you said.

Beau grabbed your hand and held it. “What’s that?”

You leveled him with a knowing look.

“I’m just curious on what we’re doing exactly,” you said. “Considering you still haven’t asked me out ‘officially official.’”

Beau’s lips pressed together with a guilty sort of smile.

“Okay, yes, I’ve been working on that,” he said. 

You laughed incredulously. “What’s to work on? It’s a simple question. I promise you, I have a simple answer.”

“But it’s not quite that simple,” he said. That made you pause, along with the sobered look on his face. You slipped your hand out of his and crossed your arms.

“What do you mean, Beau?” you asked.

He grasped your arms gently and let out a deep breath.

“Okay. I just talked with Carla last night,” he said.

It wasn’t a great way to kick things off if he wanted to reassure you. He seemed to know that, and so he spoke quickly.

“After everything that’s happened, she’s thinking of selling the house and taking Emily back to Houston,” he said.

Your face fell with shock. You laid a hand on his chest; to steady him or yourself, you didn’t know which.

“Oh wow,” you uttered.

“Yeah,” he nodded. He dragged a hand over his mouth. You had a feeling this news had been keeping him up at night.

But, you had to voice a thought that began to make your stomach churn with unease.

“Are you…would you move back too?” you asked.

Beau met your gaze with a conflicted one of his own.

“Besides the fact that I got a lot of ghosts in Houston, there are important reasons why I should stay. Why I want to stay,” he said. He picked up your hand again and held it with both of his. “But I also want and need to be there for my daughter.”

You nodded, even as tears burned in your eyes. You knew how hard this time was for Emily right now. What she needed was stability. She needed her father.

“I don’t know what to do here,” Beau admitted.

It was hard, but you breathed through your upset and tried to reign in your tears. You met his gaze and squeezed his hand back.

“You know what I want,” you said, “but you need to do what you think is best. Both for Emily, and for yourself.”

“That’s not an easy question to answer,” he said.

You shook your head. “It might not be, but that’s where we are.”

Your eyes fell to your joined hands, until Beau propped a finger under your chin, guiding your face back up to his. He gave you a kiss that was supposed to be sweet, and comforting.

He only succeeded for the moment.

“Oh God, it’s like I don’t even know you!” you exclaimed. Though you were still laughing.

Beau raised a finger in protest. “Hey, I stand by pineapple on pizza—”

“Alone, Dad. You stand alone,” Emily said. She had a recorder app going on her phone, placed between the three of you in your living room. This marked Episode 1 of her podcast, and already it was going off the rails.

“It ain’t that bad. That’s all I’m saying,” he laughed, holding up placating hands. “Pizza is pizza.”

“Said the human garbage disposal,” you smirked. “Where do you put that one, in your second or third stomach?”

“Nah, the fourth one,” he said, patting said stomach. “It’s got the most room. Very handy at a buffet. Or at Donno’s diner when he puts out the weekly specials.”

You laughed. Beau grinned. Emily made a face of disgust.

“Okay, gross,” she said. “Moving on to the next question.”

“How many you got there anyway?” Beau asked, reaching for the piece of paper she’d printed off with all of these “Questions for Couples.” He’d caught sight of a few spicy ones on there that he’d rather not be asked by his daughter, let alone put on record.

Emily snatched the paper away before he could take it from her.

“Okay, next. What’s the first thing you noticed about each other when you met?” she read off.

You and Beau glanced at each other with curious smiles. That was something neither of you had talked about just yet.

“How about for you?” Emily directed her question at you first. You blinked wider eyes.

“Oh! Um…” you trailed. Beau crossed his arms, adopting a sly, expectant smile. You bit your lip to avoid laughing in embarrassment.

“Okay, well, as you know, we met on that camping trip. If I remember right, I saw him from behind first,” you recalled.

“Liked what you saw, huh?” he teased. You laughed and tried not to blush in embarrassment.

“I noticed how tall he was. I wondered if a mountain man was coming to join us,” you quipped. Beau’s smile kicked up a notch. “But it wasn’t until he turned around, and I saw his handsome face…for me, it was his eyes.”

You were a bit bashful to admit that, but when you looked over at Beau, said handsome face had softened a touch. His hand snuck behind you to settle at the curve of your waist, stroking a thumb along your back.

“And for you, Dad?” Emily asked.

You shot him an expectant look. Beau cleared his throat, looking between his daughter and back to you. Then his smile returned.

“Well, I noticed right off the bat that she was beautiful, of course.”

“Good answer,” Emily nodded, laughing a little. You couldn’t help blushing.

Beau slipped his hand off your waist to come up and brush your cheek instead.

“For me though, it was her smile that did me in,” he said. “She looked up at me, and I uh…yeah. That got me. Was thinking about her for a while after Cassie and I left the camp.”

With that admission, you found yourself melting further. You looked down at your folded hands in your lap, trying to save face, but Beau wouldn’t have it. He took one of your hands in his, brought it up to his lips, and pressed a kiss over your knuckles, making your face warm up further.

Emily watched you both in amusement. She smirked at the next question listed on the page.

“Okay, who pays on dates? Is it Dad every time?” she asked.

Your expression turned dry as you glanced at Beau.

“Well, I wouldn’t know, considering we haven’t been on a real date yet,” you remarked. 

Beau gave a tight smile.

“All right,” he said. “Next question, please.”

A couple of days later, you crossed paths with Carla by chance while you were getting office supplies. She was getting moving boxes. There was a stack of them in her cart.

After exchanging some painful small talk, you heeded a gut instinct that had you offering to buy her lunch. So the two of you went to a café in the same plaza, where you each had a sandwich and fries.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

Carla smiled, taking another fry. “You mean can you ask me something uncomfortable?”

You stifled an awkward laugh. She really was a good lawyer.

“Yeah, that,” you said.

“Sure,” she replied.

You stared back at her for a moment, steeling yourself. You both knew what this was about to be. It was a conversation weeks in the making, but it didn’t make it any easier to begin.

You decided to peel off the Band-Aid.

“Do you still love him?” you asked. You knew you didn’t have to specify whom. Carla sighed and set down her iced tea.

“In a way,” she replied. “I’ll always care about Beau, and I want him to be happy, I do. This has all just been…too much.”

“I understand that,” you said.  

Carla hid it well, but there was pain behind her eyes as she looked away. Your heart broke for her a bit. She’d barely been remarried a year before this hellish summer uprooted her entire life.

Now she and her daughter were living in a big empty house that was meant to be for three. Carla had just finished telling you about her plans to sell it, but that also implied that she and Emily were moving.

“Part of this is my fault, I know,” said Carla. “I’m the one who married a man like Avery—”

You gently stopped her with a hand on her wrist. You met her gaze with empathy.

“What he did, and what happened after, that wasn’t your fault,” you said. “I know what it’s like to be with a man who lies.”

It took her a moment, but Carla accepted that with a slow nod. You took your hand back, and once again, you tried to gain your courage to dive into deeper waters.

“I also understand that you have to do what you feel is right for Emily, but…”

Carla met you with a more wry tilt of her head. “Let me guess. You don’t think we should leave Montana?”

Your gaze fell. “I know it’s not really my place to say—”

“And if it was?” she countered.

Your lips pressed together. Well, if she wanted to hear your opinion, then she would have it.

“Look, Carla, I was with Emily through the worst of it,” you said. “I know very well what she’s been through. But another out-of-state move when she’d just started getting acclimated, possibly separating her from her father, is that the right call?”

“You’re assuming Beau would stay. For you?” Carla asked. Her words were pointed. Sharp enough to cut you.

“I won’t lie. I don’t want to lose him…but despite his responsibilities here as Sheriff, I suspect he might leave if you asked him to. If it was for his daughter,” you said. Letting out a breath, you looked down at your folded hands on the table. “I love Emily. I want him to do what’s right for her. But selfishly, I want him to take care of himself too.”

Carla considered that, and you, with a nod.

The two of you continued sipping your iced teas for a while in silence.

When you asked for the check, the server informed you that Carla had already paid for it.

The woman gave you a parting smile before she left. You weren’t sure if she’d done it to treat you, or just to win.

That same night, Carla invited Beau over for dinner with her and Emily. It was pizza Friday, like they used to do as a family.

It was familiar, but different now.

They all were different.

Carla asked them to join her in the living room afterwards, with Emily sitting in a lounge chair while her parents sat on the couch. Beau wasn’t sure what Carla was up to, but he was going along with it.

She took in a deep breath, folding her hands in her lap, and focused on her daughter.

“Em, I need to ask you something.”

The girl looked confused, and a little apprehensive at this point.

“O-kay…”

“I know this past month has been…hard for all of us,” said Carla. “Especially for you, sweetheart.”

She took Emily’s hand.

“You know I think it’s best that we go back to Houston,” said Carla. Emily dimmed at that, and her mother could see it. It pained Carla inside to come to a realization…

“But, I think maybe I made that decision for me, not for you,” she said. She had to blink back the sting of tears. “So, what I’m asking is, do you want to go…or do you want to stay here in Montana?”

Beau glanced over at his ex-wife in surprise. He’d never known Carla to change her mind on anything. But now, now he had hope.

He tried not to show any of that to his daughter though. This was up to her now, and he would support whatever she said next.

“R-Really? I get to choose?” Emily asked. She had the beginnings of tears in her eyes as she looked between her parents. 

Carla nodded, attempting a smile through her own tears. “Yes. I, and I’m sure your father, want to do what’s best for you here. What do you want to do?”

Emily considered the question. Yeah, she missed her friends back at school in Houston. They still texted and kept in touch through social media all the time, but she knew it wasn’t the same.

She hadn’t been happy about moving to Montana at first…but after meeting Cassie and Denise, helping them with their cases—it made Emily feel like she was doing work that mattered. That something she did really, truly mattered, and would help people. That was a cool feeling.

Also, she’d met you. She’d begun to find a kind of older sister in you. Someone who encouraged her projects and her creative side without thinking it was too weird, or too annoying. And of course, she could see what you meant to her dad now.

Besides all that though, she just had this gut feeling. Like going back to Houston would be like going backwards.

Emily’s lower lip wobbled. She tried to stop it, but her emotions bubbled over.

“I like it here,” she admitted. “I…I want to stay.”

Beau welcomed his daughter over into a warm hug between them on the couch. Carla rubbed her back and nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “Then we’ll do that.”

They stayed like that for a while. Until eventually, the teen wanted to go back to editing her podcast. She was getting a hang of the editing software, and she wanted to post it online by the end of the week.

“Okay, but I want to hear the final cut before that gets released into cyberspace,” Beau called after her when she ran off into her room.

Carla shook her head and wiped her face dry.

“I still can’t believe you let her record you,” she said with a laugh.

“You and me both,” Beau admitted. If you hadn’t cajoled him into it, he probably wouldn’t have.

And the thought of you had him smiling to himself, more warmly. He’d couldn’t wait to call you…but no, this was something he should tell you in person. He turned to Carla.

“You’re sure about this? About staying?” he asked.

She nodded with a sigh. “We’ll just downsize to a smaller house. Though I will need you to keep sharing more of the custody responsibilities with Emily, presuming you’re able to get out of that trailer of yours.”

Beau wanted to argue that there was nothing wrong with his trailer (sure, it was a bit small. They’d been managing just fine). But as to not look a gift horse-in-the-mouth, all he did was nod in agreement.

“I’ll work on that,” he said.

“Thank you. Beau, I’m grateful for you,” Carla said. Her eyes were honest. “You gave me our daughter. And I’m glad you’ve gotten better, that you’ve been able to work through some of your issues. I think your girlfriend has had something to do with that.”

A smile quirked at Beau’s lips, and he nodded.

“That she has,” he said.

After his shift the following day, Beau met you at the end of your painting lesson at the local art studio. Everyone was starting to pack up their painting supplies. He managed to come up from behind and surprise you.

He tapped you on one shoulder, but appeared on your other side, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He laughed in light of your gasp.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted.

You narrowed your eyes at him in amusement.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied. “Good timing! I just finished.”

While you gathered up your supplies, Beau admired your latest painting that was still drying on the canvas. He whistled lowly.

It was a landscape of Mount Helena. There was mist near its mountain peaks, and dense trees at its base, and wide plains of green, dotted by a couple of horses ranging free.

You swiveled toward him in your chair and looked up at him with a smile. The same one that caught his eye when he met you.

“After everything, everything, I don’t regret coming here,” you said. Your voice shook a little, and your eyes shone with emotion. You stood from your seat and slipped your hand into his. “This is still the place where I got the courage to start over. And it’s where I met you.”

Beau’s face softened.

“So no matter what you decide to do,” you said, “I won’t ever regret knowing you, Beau Arlen.”

His own smile crinkled the corners of his eyes then. He swept a gentle thumb across your cheek.

“I came to tell you that Carla and Emily are staying in Montana,” he said. “So am I.”

You sucked in a trembling breath. Your tears bubbled over and fell, but his hands were there to catch them, framing your face.

“But aside from all that,” he said, with a note of humor gleaming in his eyes. “I’d really, really, like to ask you out to dinner tonight. Call it ‘officially official.’”

You laughed and smiled so bright. You nodded and let him pull you into a warm embrace. He just surprised you by hefting you into his arms next. You yelped and clung to his shoulders.

Your art instructor, as well as a couple of lesson goers remaining in the studio, clapped and whooped and laughed at the way he started carrying you towards the exit.

“Wait, wait, go back! My stuff!” you said, gesturing at your workstation.

Beau graciously backed up so you could grab your bag of paint supplies and your canvas from the easel. It was a little awkward, but you both laughed as he tried to angle you out the door of the studio. He started walking you down the sidewalk.

“Where’re you taking me? My car’s that way,” you pointed in the opposite direction.

“I believe I asked you to dinner,” said Beau, with a teasing grin. “I don’t wanna waste no time.”

You wanted to point out that your hands were stained with paint, and you weren’t dressed for a date in your jeans and plain sweater, and this wasn’t exactly what you meant by asking you out…but maybe you didn’t need a “color-coded list” for everything.

Maybe you could let yourself be a little spontaneous for once.

“Okay, Beau,” you breathed a laugh, and rested your head on his shoulder. “Take me wherever you want.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” he said slyly. He kissed your forehead. “I’ve got plans for you.”

When he reached the passenger side of his truck, he set you down on your feet. He unlocked it and held the door open while you set down your things. You pivoted on your heel and grabbed the front of his shirt, so you could pull him down to you for a kiss.

He tasted like the promise of good days to come.

AN: And there we have it, friends. 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed the ride on this series. I've had so much fun exploring Beau and this version of him and the reader. I hope you'll let me know what you think of the finale here. 💓

But, their story's not quite over yet.

Stay tuned this coming week for:

A Good Man Is Hard to Find

Summary: When Beau starts pulling away from you and Emily during a very difficult case, will the pressure make or break your relationship?

Sneak preview coming soon...

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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Series Tag List (Part 1):

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @ades106

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @deans-baby-momma @tabsluvsu @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

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[knolance]

He angy again

(I’m always up for drawing Nein :))

[echo-of-sounds]

lazy start, intense finish (pt.2 in the 'your first creampie' series)

-Aizawa x f!reader-

smut drabble of aizawa giving you your first creampie

I’m posting this using my phone’s hotspot because I just really wanted to get this out today. Nothing’s really loading. I picked a gif at random. If the format is a little wonky, I apologize. I’ll fix it later.

Warnings: nothing serious, just a little deepthroating/gagging

At the commercial break, you lowered the volume for Shouta sleeping on your stomach. He sighed and nuzzled into you. His hands were burrowed inside your sweatshirt for warmth, resting on your sides. Not that he needed the extra warmth. His body was nothing but a radiator, keeping yours pleasantly cozy in the cool room.

He remained motionless for another thirty minutes until his chest rumbled a swear.

“You alright?”

He groaned, turning his head. Through the thick, black mess, you saw his eyes straining at the Tv. At least they seemed less red than an hour and a half ago. Hair stuck to his mouth. You gently brushed the strands out of his face, carefully combing through them.

A low hum sounded at your grooming. Your fingers graced behind his ear, down his jaw, skimming the defined bone and bristles. It’s grown a little longer than usual, shading in the sparse five o’clock with attractive, full stubble.

He grumbled in a thick voice, “I need to shave it soon.”

“I like it like this.”

“It’s annoying like this.” He shifted on top of you, removing his hands from your sweatshirt. You moved too, bending your left leg, wedged amid him and the couch’s back, to relieve your stiff knee. He faced your thigh and pressed his lips to it. The peck formed into a long kiss, dragging the thin skin into his mouth.

The heated weight between your legs allowed you to lazily hump, working up wetness, not from his mouth. His lower chest rocked with you. Fingertips depressed into your thigh. Hair mingled around your playing fingers, keeping you coupled as he sucked, stressing the skin with teeth and lips.

You sighed for him. He didn’t budge. You wiggled, cooing, “Shouta, come here.”

Your voice corralled him; he lifted, crawled up to your mouth. Heft settled on top, happily trapping you for a kiss. Swelling swayed against you, encouraging your hips to return the favor. His tongue crudely sunk into your mouth. It drew moans and heavy breaths from both of you, hastening your grinding.

The kisses trailed to your jaw, then neck once you opened it, where his teeth decided to taste. You fondled him through his sweatpants. The material didn’t stifle his girth and heat. And your groping spurred his swaying into thrusting, obviously wanting something to thrust into.

You were about to speak when he bit your neck, shaping your words into a gasp. His jaw didn’t release, very clearly set on leaving you swollen. You squeezed his cock. That only made his hips jerk. You squeezed his sleeve next, panting, “Let’s go- Fuck. Let’s go to bed.”

Shouta heaved himself and you up. The cuddly start to your night-in quickly disappeared as he muscled you to the bedroom. His tongue left your mouth once when he slipped his shirt off. Your palms flushed over his abdomen, feeling up the grooves and hair, smoothing along his pecs, kindling from his radiator of a chest.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Then suck me off,” he gruffed, gripping your hair to keep your mouth against his for an airless ten seconds before shoving you to the bed. He dropped his pants and boxers, then joined. But he laid beside you, waiting for you to enact what he said.

And you did. Ready and willing, you hopped between his legs, kissing his erection. Veins in his foreskin slicked with your tongue, from his raphe to his frenulum. The little ridge of skin roused him, physically and audibly. A blush tainted his cheeks. Gorgeous sighs charmed your ears. You lapped slowly, softly, and sweetly at the reactive zone, soaking up his sounds, also soaking your panties.

“You look so handsome right now,” you praised. “Not that you don’t look handsome other times.”

Holding him steady, you pressed a lewd kiss to his head, and you couldn’t help but nip his corona. Then you took him in your mouth, quickly sinking, gradually rising, lightly dragging your teeth along him.

His head dropped to the pillows. Black hair frayed out, exposing pale collarbones and marred skin. His abs expanded in lengthy, indulged breaths. As your fingers trailed up the muscles, he snagged your hair, forcing you lower. Another hand joined. Hips snapped up. Each loud, deep prod choked you. Tears fell when he held you down, flattening your nose into his hair, stationing his dick thick and solid in your throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

Saliva dribbled. Heat pooled in your neck. A crude gag came with his grinding, making him yank you off. Dark eyes watched spit seep past your lips, drooling to him. They kept yours in focus, his head tapping your lips. “Clean it.”

You nursed on him again, sucking up all his precum and your spit. After a gentle thumb wiped the tears away, his palm rested on your cheek, calmly guiding your head. You hummed.

The switch from dominant to mellow wasn’t new, but it always sparked an affectionate glow in your stomach. The glare, from arousal, not anger, was always pleasing. And the intensity, you’ve seen many a time. Yet something about the tilt of his eyebrows and the pink of his ears goaded an unfamiliar experience, a new need.

Wetly, lust-filled, you spoke around his glans, tasting the salt you wanted to feel inside, “Cum in me.”

“What?”

“Cum in me.” You climbed up, parked on his waist, and removed your sweatshirt. You cupped his cheeks, kissing him with all the potency this need inflamed. “I’m on birth control. It’ll be okay. I want to feel what it’s like.”

“No one’s ever cum in you?”

You stroked his jaw. “No. It’s never come up. I want it to be with you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” you whined before kissing him, smiling at the tongue muscling in.

Rough fingers coasted down your back and into your underwear. They kneaded your ass, spreading and pressing you while you moved with his hands, lightly riding his naked chest. The foreplay was becoming a bit too much, evident in the wet material pressing between you.

The fingers skimmed to your front and easily slipped in. “You’re this wet just from thinking about-”

“Yes,” you gasped, appreciating how his palm graded your clit. You stilled his wrist to grind down. “Sho, I’m gonna- Fuck.”

“How am I supposed to cum in you if you get worn out before I’m even inside you?” His stupid, rugged, lovely smirk taunted you.

Before you could respond, you were whipped to the mattress and your panties were tugged off. Shouta nestled between your thighs, immersing himself balls deep without any pushback or preparation. Knowing how this was going to end livened your noises and heightened your skin. Coarse hair, fevered skin, sultry breaths, digging fingers, lips, teeth, nails; all fueled the fire.

With a bite to your already bitten-up neck, the thrusts started solid. His head brushed straight into your front wall over and over and over again. Your nails made a home in his back, scratching, thanking him for his beautiful dick.

Shouta pushed up to his hands, increasing the strength behind the thrusts. You grasped at his biceps and rose, needing his mouth. You got what you wanted; sloppy, saliva, tongue-filled kisses and deep thrusts to curl your toes. Your eyes fluttered closed and head lolled back. Refusing to break, the kiss followed with his added grunts, amorous sounds he barely shared.

You tried speaking, voicing how amazing he always made you feel, your love, close you were, how so fucking high you felt. But nothing escaped your connected mouths except saliva. Instead, you stroked your clit. The width inside was leading you straight to orgasm.

Yet, rather fiercely, your hand was stopped.

“Sho, I-”

“Tonight, you cum from me,” he growled in your ear. He hooked both your knees, leaned forward, and continued his unabashed rutting, flattening you to the bed, completely caging you under him and the weight bearing down and into you.

He withdrew till only his head remained then bucked, slapping his balls against you, using the bed’s bounce to repeat repeatedly, jarring your hips and legs. His thrusts reached your depths. Pleasure drowned any twinge of pain out. You weakly clawed at his shoulder blades, losing energy.

“Cum.”

You whined his name.

“Now.” Teeth, once again, found your sore neck. Hair flared over your face, lending more building heat. “Cum, now.”

Arousal dripped from the disgustingly vulgar sounds between you. Your muscles couldn’t straighten under his control. You fussed and pawed.

“Fucking cum,” Sho gnarled. The guttural demand rolled your head back, driving home what he wanted, clenching muscles and limbs around him. Water formed from squeezing your eyes too hard. Skin gave under your nails.

All the joyous bliss almost turned painful with his nonstop thrusting. Because of the position, your legs couldn’t wrap his waist. But they still tried, needing him to stay inside. You felt down his sides and grappled at the sweat-coated skin. “Shouta, please- Fuck! Please.”

“I’m fucking-” His own huffing cut him off, struggling to even out. Thick groans melted in your ear. His thighs, while railroading through, trembled, humping, seeking.

“Cum in me. I want it.”

The thrust slowed, but the weight behind them didn’t lessen. He pressed into your neck.

“God, Sho, just cum in me.”

Each ball slap lingered longer and longer.

“Please,” you all but pleaded.

Swearing and growling your name, he sunk one last time, grinding against you, trying to push just a little deeper as you finally felt cum inside. It was new, different, and so, so warm. Hearty groans rumbled his chest. He dropped your legs, giving you the chance to wrap around him, embracing tight, and refusing to let him pull out.

Shouta’s labored breathing gradually calmed. Though it didn’t ease the heat of your bodies. And neither of you spoke, choosing to just lay and experience the feeling together.

[vukovich]

Blunt-Forced Drama

It started innocently enough. In May, Potter invited their entire graduating class to a house-warming party at 12 Grimmauld.

Being the gracious guest he was, Draco arrived an hour late with a bottle of wine, two tins of pre-rolls, and a scented candle that claimed to be "woodsy".

Being the highly-distractible, schedule-free dynasty heir he also was, he arrived on a Tuesday evening. Four days after the party.

Potter shrugged and ushered him in, through the house to the patio. The chair cushions smelled like mildew, but neither of them cared. He lit the candle, then lit a joint off the candle by the time Draco realized they were alone, but that was alright. Preferable, even.

Potter was different away from people. Weirder. He was downright funny after half a bottle of wine, and peculiarly sober when he chased it with most of a joint.

"Did you ever wonder if matter stays still, and our consciousness just moves through it like fingers strumming a harp?"

"Stands to reason, Potty."

Draco, on the other hand, was borderline ridiculous, and moderately obsessed with implausible scenarios and how to handle them. When sober, he'd deny having a rampant anxiety disorder.

"What if my face just... fell right off. Right now. What would you do?"

"Suppose I'd pick it up," Potter said, taking a long swig from the bottle. "But I'd probably put it on my face, take a selfie, then wash it off and give it back to you."

Draco mumbled around the filter of a joint he had to look at with one eye to light. "Generous of you."

It became a regularity.

"Did I miss the party?" Draco would ask, libations raised in offering.

"I don't know. Did you?"

"I've never mourned the loss of a social function in my life, Potter."

The patio furniture paint started to flake off sometime in July, but that was alright. Potter left the candle out in the rain, and Draco made a note to himself to replace it with a candle that actually smelled like a thunderstorm.

"What if the stars all collapsed into black holes? Just... boom."

"Even the sun?"

"Well, except the sun."

"Probably wouldn't affect Earth for a few million years. But then you'd be named after nothing."

"True."

Harry extinguished a blunt on his tongue and rubbed the ash against the roof of his mouth.

"Universal ultimate goal..."

"Yeah?"

"...for everybody..."

"Mm hm."

"....is to become who you needed."

Draco's head lolled back over the chair, and he pretended to see the stars through the humid streetlight haze.

"Go on."

"I needed somebody to, like, save me, right?"

"Uh huh. Cupboard."

"So I became 'The Saviour'."

"So... I needed... a socialite burnout?"

Harry picked the cork apart with a thumbnail onto the scalloped glass table.

"Nah. You just... you see people. Cuz nobody ever saw you."

Draco frowned at the stars hiding behind the veil of light pollution. He took a breath to ask Harry what that meant, but Harry cut him off with a soft snore. Draco blew the candle out and went home.

Harry never minded a little rain, and Draco didn't mind the humidity.

Draco shook the lighter, flicked it, and drew a slow breath. "What if you lost all your money?"

"I'd be a librarian."

"Hm," Draco hummed around a joint. "That might be nice. Wonder what I'd do."

An animal chittered in a tree, and Harry unscrewed the cap on the bottle. "You'd make wands."

"I'd make great wands."

Harry liked tart wine and indica, and Draco liked the random shit that came out of Harry's mouth.

"I hope there's no afterlife," Harry muttered into the bottleneck. "Sounds exhausting."

Draco sprawled out on a chaise lounge that smelled like wet dirt, tried to blow a smoke ring, and failed miserably.

"I thought you already died."

Harry upended the bottle and caught the last few drops on his tongue.

"Could've been a hallucination."

"What if this is a hallucination?"

"You'd tell me."

"Cuz I see people."

"Yeah, but not like in that movie. You just, like, get people." Harry's chair scraped against the patio, and he flopped down on the damp cushions next to Draco. "What did you get Parkinson for her birthday?"

"Nothing. She only wants things she needs, and she didn't need anything."

"See? What did you get me for my birthday?"

Draco tapped ash onto the ground and stuck the blunt between Harry's lips. "That candle, but that was more for me."

"See? It's perfect."

Draco curled up against Harry and sighed. "What's perfect?"

"You got me the gift of you smelling the candle."

"Didn't even wrap it."

"I hate wrapping."

"Me, too."

Harry drew a breath through Draco's hair. "I like watching you smell the candle."

"Mm."

"It's supposed to rain soon."

Draco pressed numb teeth against his lips against Harry's shoulder.

"What if I just bit you?"

"I'd let you." Harry stubbed the blunt out on the patio.

"Maybe I will."

"Yeah?"

Harry dipped his chin and pressed his nose between Draco's eyebrows.

"Mm hm," Draco hummed against Harry's chin.

They smelled rain, then heard it, then felt the patter of it against their clothes. It dripped down Draco's hair.

Harry's bottom lip slid between Draco's teeth, and he sucked it in on a relieved gasp. The storm-scented candle sputtered out, and neither of them noticed.

[itsallyscorner]

I don’t know if it’s too much to ask, but when you’re done with all your requests, can you please do a part 2 of getting to know you?❤️

Hello darling!💕 Thank you for the request and I’m so sorry it took me so long; I was waiting for Cherry to come out to write this and I also have time to finally write. I hope you like it!💕 *CHERRY SPOLIERS*

A/n: Hello my loves! I just wanted to say that these kind of fics are the closest I will get to writing for Cherry. I will not be writing about the characters in the story, I will only be writing about the filming process, working with Tom, etc. Now that I mentioned that, I wanted to let you all know that this is going to be a bit more of a happier fic! I see a lot of people writing about the hard parts of filming Cherry so I thought why not have a little fun one? I’m sure they had some laughs on set, I briefly remember Ciara and Tom mentioning it. But yeah that’s all, enjoy the fic! Ally xx

💌.

I’m Really Happy You’re Here

(GIF @thollandgifs )

Tom watched you from a distance. From where he was, he could hear the sound of your bubbly laugh and see that bright smile on your face. Your smile was contagious. The way your eyes crinkled at the ends and how your smile squished into your cheeks was something he’s grown fond of over the past eight weeks. Though the difference from the previous weeks was that your cheeks were fuller and the bleak expressions of Emily did not shadow your face anymore.

The last eight weeks of filming have been rough. Both on you and him, along with the rest of the cast and crew. Having to begin filming with the ‘Dope Life’ section of the movie was not a pleasant way of starting a months long project. He felt drained after every shoot, spending his time on set crying, kicking, and screaming. Not to mention he was also starving himself to enhance the ‘druggy’ look on his features. After those eight weeks they had to transition into the part of Cherry’s life where he’s falling in love with Emily. The transition from being an addict to becoming a lovesick college student was a tricky one for Tom. The sudden switch in the film’s dynamic, made Tom doubt himself. From the intense scenes and screaming to being all loving and sweet, he was self-conscious that he was not doing enough. Though you were quick to debunk his doubts. You kept your promise of being there for him and gave him the freedom to be vulnerable. You didn’t judge him, you listened to him ramble and understood the struggles he was facing. Because of this, you helped him through the transition of druggy to lovesick college student. 

It wasn’t hard to act like he was falling in love you. You have been so supportive and patient with him during the previous weeks that he’s grown to adore you. On and off set you made sure he knew you were not only his co-worker but his friend. When he had a rough day, you were there to pick him up. Or that one time when he had a bit of a panic attack and you were instantly by his side to guide him out of it. There were many reasons as to why you are so dear to him, he could have gone on for days listing them. But overall, it was your lovable nature that lured him in since the very beginning he’s met you.

He felt like Cherry in that one scene you guys shot in the classroom. The one where he’s gazing at Emily and admiring her features. Except you didn’t stare back at him, instead you were having a very animated conversation with your makeup artist and one of the stylists. You were dressed in Emily’s clothes, white stockings, a jean skirt, and that cherry pink jacket with flowers embroidered onto it. He thought you looked so adorable and carefree kicking around leaves with your brown ankle boots and playfully swinging your arms around. Tom felt his lips unconsciously twitch upwards at the sight of you.

Harry, who had been eyeing his older brother, nudged him roughly. Tom whips around to look at him, sending him a glare for rudely interrupting his train of thought.

“What?” Tom hissed.

Harry smirked, motioning to you, “(Y/n) looks really pretty today.” Tom distinctly squints an eye at Harry before looking over his shoulder. The glare for his brother softening once you come into view.

“I mean, doesn’t she always? She’s a beautiful woman.”

“And you’re absolutely whipped.” Harry remarked with a smug grin on his face.

“So I can’t call someone beautiful without being absolutely whipped for them now?” Tom retorted crossing his arms. Harry raised his hands up defensively, “You can mate, chill. I’m just saying that because you’re literally staring at her with a stupid love haze in your eyes.”

“No I’m not.” Tom scoffed, hoping to get his brother off his case. Harry stared at him blankly and rolled his eyes, “Whatever, they want you on your mark.”

The filming location was a secluded park located somewhere in Cleveland. The park was set up to appear as a cemetery, gray gravestones were placed on the ground and gothic statues scattered the place. The scene was supposed to be a meaningful one for Cherry and Emily. Emily was going to be telling Cherry about her abusive father and he was going to tell her he loved her.

Tom sat on the grass and leaned against the stone statue where his mark was located. He looked around his surroundings in curiosity. A few feet away from him was the crew, the Russos, and a tent that sheltered the monitors. He breathed in, wallowing in the crisp air of Cleveland’s autumn weather. It was a bit chilly, but not to the point where you were shivering and left with chattering teeth. The vintage looking jacket he was given and the black beanie on his head was enough to keep him warm. His eyes continued to wander around the park, shifting along the trees and studying the clusters of yellow and orange.

“Hey you.” Your gentle voice breaks through the quiet murmurs of nature and the crew surrounding him. Tom’s eyes instantly set themselves upon your figure, their focus on you and only you. The trees and cameras behind you faded in the background. His gaze followed your figure as you moved to sit beside him.

“Hey.” His voice is soft making you hum in response. Being the gentleman he was, Tom held out his hand to help you sit on the ground. You quietly thank him. He watches as you rest your head against the stone and shut your eyes.

“Still sleepy?” He chuckles nudging your shoulder. You giggle along, lazily nodding. Your eyes open again and he’s met with your stunning (eye color) orbs. They were bright and filled with joy even though you were clearly tired.

You turn your head to the side to face him, “I barely got any sleep last night.”

Tom’s brows drew together in concern, “Why didn’t you get any sleep?”

“I may or may not have watched The Nun by myself last night.” You cringed. Tom let out a dramatic gasp, “Darling, why would you do that to yourself?”

“I was bored and I couldn’t find anything else to watch. I thought watching a horror movie would be a good idea, but I was wrong.” You explained, shaking your head at yourself. You breathed out a laugh, remembering how terrified you were the night before.

Tom joined you, also shaking his head. “Why didn’t you ask Harry and I to join? We could’ve watched it for movie night. Then you wouldn’t have to be alone and you’d have two body guards to protect you from the scary nun.” He teased you poking your side. You squeaked and swatted his finger away.

“You guys were going out for dinner. I thought you might want to have some quality time with your brother.” You stifled a yawn, your nose scrunching after, making Tom pout at your sleepy state. He glanced in front of him to see everyone still occupied in side conversations. The Russos were haunched behind the tent discussing things about the scene.

Tom turns back to you and motions to his lap. You give him a questioning look. You glance at his lap, not completely understanding him. Tom followed your stare, realizing that you were probably getting the wrong message.

“Oh! No—I meant that you could sleep on my lap or something. I don’t think we’re gonna start filming for a few more minutes, so I thought you might want to squeeze in a little nap.” He explained, words jumbling together in panic. Your heart swelled at how sweet Tom was.

The two of you were silent, staring at each other before bursting out in laughter. Tom squeezed his eyes shut, fingers holding his temples, “God, I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.”

You chuckled resting your head on his shoulder, “It’s okay, you had good intentions.” When your laughs die down, you look up at him. “Does your offer for the nap still stand? I think I can use it.”

“Of course it does.” Tom shifts so there’s space on his thigh for you to rest your head on. He helps you lay down, fixing your hair so it’s not in your face. He leaves a hand to play with the strands, mesmerized at how luscious it was. He notices that he’s probably invading your space and pulls his hand away, apologizing.

You make a noise of disagreement, pulling his hand back. “It’s ok, feels nice.” You mumble, eyes closing and a content expression on your face. Tom played with your hair; being careful to not tangle any strands or pull on them too hard. He couldn’t help but study your features. To name a few, he took the time to memorize the way your lashes brushed against your cheeks, the shape of your nose, and the curve of your lips. Your lips. They looked remarkably soft and had a tint of pink to them. Tom found his eyes flickering down at your lips the most than your other features.

He was so caught up in admiring you that he didn’t notice the words coming out of his mouth.

“I’m really happy you’re here.”

Your eyes snap open dancing with amusement. A toothy grin forms on your mouth.

“Did you just quote the movie?” You question him, referring to the previous scene you were both shooting a couple of days ago. Tom becomes flustered, the blood rushing to his fair cheeks.

“Yes, shut up.” He muttered, bouncing his thigh, causing your head to loll to the side. You giggle elbowing his stomach. “Well were you practicing your lines? ‘Cause they’re for the wrong scene, Tommy.” You tease him.

Tom playfully rolls his eyes and looks down at you. His hands were still tangled in your hair, the soft strands like silk in between his fingers. “No, I know that—but I’m serious. I’m really happy you’re here with me. I know I’ve told you this so many times but I can’t imagine filming this movie with anyone else. And you’ve been so loyal and trusting, I feel so comfortable with you. You’ve always had my back and I’m really thankful for that. So thank you for—being you.”

You give him a lopsided grin, “You know, you don’t have to always thank me. We made a promise to always have each other’s back. I’m one to keep my word but at the same time you’re my friend, Tom. I’m not being nice to fulfill a promise, I genuinely care about you.” Tom beams while you continue.

“It honestly goes both ways, I should also be thanking you. The beginning of filming was very taxing and somehow you’ve made it bearable for me to come into work not worrying about losing my shit on everyone. So thank you, Tom.” You finish, reaching out to interlock your fingers with his free hand.

Tom sighs happily, “I guess we’re just happy to have each other, huh?”

“Yeah.” You agree, eyes trained on the way his giant hand enveloped yours. A peaceful silence lays upon the both of you. The melody of birds chirping and the sound of Tom’s breathing fill the air as you drift off to sleep.

Bonus:

Tom feels your hand loosen in his grip, your interlocked fingers resting on your stomach. He felt your stomach steadily raising up and down to the pace of your breathing. His hands remained where they were; one playing with your hair and the other holding one of your hands.

Joe approaches the both of you, gesturing to the position you and Tom were in. Though you were unaware, napping on Tom’s lap.

“Is this how you guys want to film the scene? We were gonna have you sitting beside each other instead.” Joe stood above you and Tom with his hands on his hips.

“I think this is actually better—don’t get me wrong, sitting beside each other and cuddling is pretty affectionate. But I think having someone rest their head on your lap is another level of intimacy.” Tom reasoned. He wanted to extend the amount of time you could ‘nap’ but he also thought the scene would be much better if your head was cradled on his lap. Personally, he believed it would show the audience how comfortable Cherry and Emily were with each other.

Joe nods his head, “Yeah, I get what you mean. I think I like that better, to be honest. What do you think, (Y/n)? Is Tom’s lap comfortable enough for you to shoot a few scenes on?” Joe asks, teasing you towards the end. He’s met with no response. He raises a brow at you, “Is she asleep?”

“Yup, long night.” Tom chuckled, running his hand through your hair soothingly.

Joe chuckles as well, “Is she all good though?”

“Oh, she’s fine. She just watched The Nun by herself and couldn’t catch any sleep after.” Tom reassured him.

“Ahh, alright.” Joe snickers, moving to make his way back to the crew. “She’s got a good 10 to 15 minutes to squeeze in a nap, monitors are acting up.”

“Gotcha’ boss.” Tom mentally notes, resuming to bask in the nature around him and your presence.

Tags:

Tom Holland Taglist

↪︎ @lovableparker @aprettyfleur @sunwardsss @dummiesshort @thotforcriminalminds @cuddlykoala101 @itstaskeen @whoslili @white-wolf1940 @tomsirishgirlx @roseke @kaylans-imagines @spideyspeaches @xxstrangegirlxxx @slutforsebstan

General Taglist

↪︎ @quxxnxfhxll @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary @agustdowney

[oven-thermometer]

Darksiders week Day II

Day 2: Shipping - Any rating (so long as nsfw works are tagged properly!) and any trope, so long as it involves shipping. Please note that a ship does not have to be canon (i.e. presented as a ship in the existing material) to count–in some other reality, they could have loved each other. Also, I hear human survivors have been reported by the Hellguard, so feel free to bring your OCs as well!

This is my first time writing anything with an OC, I'm happy it was Aurora because I love her so much. Also I know it's day 3 today but I didn't get to post yesterday and my work gave me the day off??? For some reason?? So I get to post today :>

What Aurora looks like and her different forms It helps to just check this post out to make the story easier to read

Warnings: blood, fighting, angst, lying, description of bad wounds, animal harm (by demons) and death.

The large golden doors swung open violently, slamming into the adjacent walls. Darkness in the hallway was chased away by the piercing light from Hell’s eternal fires raging across it’s plains. Taking her hands off from the doors, her hung head lifted up slowly. Her eyes caught the large throne situated at the end of the hallway, it’s impending presence making her swallow the invisible lump in her throat. ‘At least he’s not here.’ She thought, making her way down the dimly lit hallway, the candles burning to life as she walked past.

“Aurora.” her name was called in a monotone voice. Turning her head, she located the voice at one of the side doors next to the throne. Emerging from said door, was her mother. The woman that constructed her and made her into what she was today. She held neither malice nor love towards her. She had been made into a monster but she never knew the proper way to be treated by someone you were made by so she really had no point of reference. Coming out of her musings she walked further towards the woman. “Lilith.” she said, nodding her head in greeting.

Lilith sauntered closer, stopping in front of the taller creature. Aurora shifted her legs, waiting for her to speak. Lilith hummed and narrowed her eyes before quickly turning around. “You have a new mission. This one pertains quite importantly to the grand plan Samael and I have,” turning half her body to look over her shoulder she made clear eye contact with Aurora, “success is the only outcome that will be accepted. Are we clear?”

Lilith punctuated her last words by closing her fists, reminding Aurora of he last time she hobbled back into Samael’s castle with defeat written all over her wounded body. Shuddering slightly at the thought, she nodded. Lilith turned fully towards the throne again and stepped towards it. Picking up a small scroll of decaying paper from the stone and opening it, she spoke again, “You are to travel to Earth.”

Aurora looked up, her long ears perking up at the name, “Earth? Why there?”

Lilith slid her tail along the floor, signifying her annoyance at the question. Aurora looked back down and mumbled an apology. Lilith drew her shoulders back and closed the scroll once again, “The apocalypse will soon be triggered, Earth will become the battleground for monumental forces. You will travel there and, using your human-form, you will find the horseman that will be sent to find the cause of the trigger.”

Aurora shifted on her legs again, she hated being in her human form. It meant she had to lie. She could deal with the killing and the war but lying and infiltrating made her stomach turn. Deceit was what came with that form.

Pushing her feelings down, she held one of her hands out for the scroll Lilith was holding. Lilith left it in her outstretched hand, making her way back to the side door before adding, “You must seduce him Aurora. You’ve done this kind of thing before and I have complete faith you won’t disappoint me.”

Aurora nodded again, her eyes scanning the contents of the page for more details. “Oh and Aurora, bring him to that location before the third torch atop of this castle is blown out by the dry winds.”

Blood curdling screams replaced the quiet alleyways with sheer terror. Stepping out of the void portal Aurora took cautious steps further out of the alleyway – more screams making her turn her head towards the impeding invasion of demons from a large tear in the Earth. Large orange lava spewed from the enormous crack as demons screeched and hollered from rooftops and street lamps.

Aurora sneered from her place in the alleyway, she may be part demon but this was never who she was. Innocent humans were being torn apart right in front of her and all she could do was look on for the being she was meant to trick into her plans. She had never met any of the Nephelim, even before their demise due to four of their own. Everyone knew the story, even her. She felt sorry for the remaining four, they had been forced to murder their entire family and proceeded to work for the very beasts who bargained with their lives. Lilith also spoke of them often, cursing the four mostly. That was why Aurora was made, so that one day the spawn of angel and demon might continue.

Shaking her head, she returned to her search. Spotting another large tear and a large trail of fire and smoke further into the streets of the city she identified the crash site of the warrior. She swiftly brushed off her clothes, stopping midway as she realized she had to look dirty and beaten for him to take pity on her. Sighing, she threw her head back in sarcastic amusement.

Aurora had made her way from the alleyway towards a building used as a parking lot across the road. Smears of blood and bodily fluid littered the floor, the faint noise of muffled grunts off to one corner caught her attention. A man, a human, was being pinned to the wall as a pack of small demons overpowered him and took their opportunity to rip the scared features from his face. As the life left his eyes and his last whine of pain escaped, his head lolled forwards. Stopping in her tracks, Aurora’s face held no emotion. Seeing this as her opportunity to gain the injuries she required, she started attracting the group over from their feast. She stomped her feet and shouted at them to gain their attention. “Hey you stupid mongrels,” she put her hands on her hips and gave a low whistle, “how’s the invasion going dimwits?”

The mindless demons quirked their heads at her - they could smell that she wasn’t human, but she didn’t look supernatural. Snapping out of their daze, as if acting with a hive mind, they snarled and charged violently forwards towards her. Aurora lifted her forearms to act as guards, awaiting the attack.

Her breath felt like it was made of lead. Her arms and legs covered in bruises, welts and scratches. The vicious pain of her combined wounds made her head dizzy as she leaned against one of the concrete walls. Slouching forward she slid down slowly to sit down on the cold floor. Her mind was blank. Only focusing on keeping her healing magic at bay so as not to erase the work the now squashed demons did. As soon as she was content with how much damage they did, Aurora began her offense. Making quick work of them, she needed a moment before venturing out of the building again. She wiped the blood pooling on her chin, the viscous material flowing freely from her nose and mouth due to broken cartilage and cracked teeth.

A small scratching noise caught her attention, lifting her head she looked towards the cars sitting in their lots. It was coming from there, she was sure. It only got louder, a pitiful whining shortly accompanying it. Was it…another human? The demons would’ve killed them before though, or were they sparing them to witness the torture? If it was a person she would need to make sure they won’t get out of this alive: they could’ve seen her use her powers after all.

She stalked closer to the collection of crashed and parked cars, broken glass and more blood breaking beneath her boots. The whining and scratching continued to increase in volume, making her cock her head to the side in confusion. A thin tarp laden with dust and dirt covered the small opening between two cars that had evidently been in a bad crash. Aurora could now also hear deep and scratchy breathing – similar to her own. The whining seemed one akin to an animal, this only deepened her confusion. Lifting the tarp she readied an attack spell in her flesh hand, but what met her eyes gave her pause. A large, white hound met her vision. It’s thick fur stained with it’s own blood. It was slightly smaller than the Hell Hounds that she was used to. Awkwardly shifting again, she pulled more of the material away and threw it behind her. The dog’s labored breathing and flowing wounds made her heart ache – humans had minds, and some of them were vile beings. But, animals and beasts with no sentient choices only wanted peace. They never deserved whatever terrible treatment they got – quickly realizing Aurora made her think of her own situation, she shook her head and lowered herself to her knees. Banishing the attack spell she replaced it with her healing magic.

As she healed the creature she thought to herself, ‘Was that man your owner?’ She didn’t dwell on that thought either.

It’s breathing improved and it’s gashes closed, but it remained unconscious out of exhaustion after her magic had stopped. Sighing, Aurora questioned why she even did this. It was going to get found again. It may be almost as big as a Hell Hound, but it clearly couldn’t fight as well.

Again, another noise drew her attention away from the situation. A large crash near the entrance to the building made her quickly clamber to her feet. ‘More demons??’ she thought, exasperated. But, it was no demon. In fact, it was the one being she needed on this hellish mission.

War’s voice boomed, calling after the pathetic demons that had run from their battle. “Scum!” he shouted, “I saw you running in here with your tail between your legs, come out for a merciful decimation!” ‘Geez, he isn’t one for pleasantries, huh?’ Aurora thought to herself. Swiftly slipping into her role, she began limping her way away from the cars – although the limp wasn’t fake.

Accidentally tripping on a large piece of fallen concrete, her hands automatically came up to cushion her fall. Her metal limb creating a sharp noise against the floor caused her to cringe.

Stopping his intimidating rant, War looked over to the small human. His stony features showed no shock or confusion of any kind. Not any emotion at all. Aurora gave a small grunt, quickly getting to her knees before her eyes landed on the impressive height of War. Scrambling backwards, her face showed a feeling of utter fear. Her mouth hung open as she raised an arm in mock defense, her bionic arm. War’s eyes flashed a light of pity before turning back to their normal cloudy blue. “P-Please..Don’t - hurt me.” Aurora kept her widened eyes on him, showing nothing but the want to live another minute.

War turned fully to her form, acknowledging her wounds, her tired eyes and how she didn’t even seem to have the strength to stand. Forgetting the beasts he was chasing, he wracked his brain for what to do. He had a mission, a purpose – but this, thing, looked so helpless and in desperate need of help. Walking the short distance towards her, he took a healing potion out of his supply belt and set it down in front of her. “Use it.” Is all he said before leaving the building, and Aurora. Rearing her head back in confusion, she lowered her arm and tsked in annoyance. Grabbing the large container of green liquid, she ran as fast as her bleeding legs could take her after the Nephilim. He wasn’t going particularly fast, his normal walking pace, but to Aurora’s state it was difficult to catch up with.

“Wait!” she called out after him. War stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder. Huffing, Aurora got closer and looked up to him, “Are you just gonna leave me here?!”

It was War’s turn to be confused, not visibly though, “Excuse me?” Motioning to her wounds as she spoke, Aurora replied, “Well I am arguably not in the best of states and seeing as you obviously don’t want to kill me, could you at least escort me to a safe place?”

Aurora’s heartbeat roared in her ears, she couldn’t believe she was talking this way to a Horseman. But she needed some way of being near him. War grunted, turning his head back to look onward, “Move quickly, I will take you to the angels.”

Smiling to herself, Aurora followed closely behind as he made his way towards a horde of angels a few blocks away.

[danddymaro]

Resistance | Leone Abbacchio x Reader

Anime Abba if no one minds; Just an advance since I know the manga and anime have different color schemes.

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Word count :  3229

 After the fight With Illuso Abbacchio can no longer hold back 

 Stay Back

 His glazed, golden eyes stayed trained right ahead as his body sluggishly slumped over the brick wall. He struggled to stay upright, somehow pushing past the overbearing pain for just a moment longer as the strength of the human spirit coursed on within his tired, worn being long after he’d accepted his fate.

Like a traveling sludge, he'd left a sticky trail behind, one that would be evidence of his sacrifice, all of which would be the only thing left behind aside from his cold carcass,

And he was fine with things being left as they were; so long as the mission was a success.

After all, they'd gotten the key, and as messy as things got, it was a win in his book.

' That's all that matters… ' he thought with content, struggling to breath, his sight beginning to blur as occasional little black splotches scattered across his hazy vision,

"Yeah...At least… At least I did that right," he thought with a snicker, albeit a rather bitter one, humored that while his life had been a waste, he’d done just one thing successfully,

'But...there's just one thing…' he thought to himself, chuckling wearily at the recollection of a rather dejected face he’d last seen, deeply wishing that hadn’t been his last memory of her, but somehow grateful that it was, because then he could live on with the idea that he died with her resentment.

And maybe then, she wouldn’t miss him. Maybe then he’d only be an ugly memory she’d be willing to forget, finally getting it through her head that he wasn’t ever worth the worry.

“Just stay back!” he barked at her, looking back at her with hardened golden eyes narrowed fiercely at her as she tried to leave along with them.

“Keep watch if you want to feel useful,” he said in an offhand sort of manner, making her face fall, disheartened.

(e/c) colored eyes then hardened as he followed up with more expected backlash, the woman visually preparing herself for his sharp tongue, swallowing it all down with a quiet nod.

“Why the hell Bucciarati insisted on you coming… it's a mystery to me.” He said lowly, completely turning from her by then, not sparing her another glance after the uttered words.

Frowning, Giorno stepped towards her, his hand raised to touch her slumped shoulder before she shook her head, immediately perking,

“Okay!” She agreed, “I’ll stay here!” She chirped, “Abba’s Right,” She went on, “Besides, I wouldn’t want to get in the way,” She added, an undertone of hurt weaved through the façade she put on.

“So you guys go ahead. I’ll take care of things here.”

All the while her eyes were stuck on the other man’s back, watching as he drew further, his shoulders squared and tense as he went in search for the important item, the other two males following in suit, though seeming just as exasperated as her at the elder man’s choice of words.

“I’ll have a talk with him,” Fugo said softly as he walked past her, offering her a lax, apologetic grimace of a smile.

‘You always do,’ (f/n) mused, smiling back nonetheless, finding his effort to help her to be sweet, yet futile because it never changed anything.

‘It won’t change a thing,’ She added, her expression dying as they drew further from her.

She wished it wasn’t so and that somehow, the cycle would cease.

“By now… She should hate me…” Leone said to himself, his heart weighed down by the thought,

'But it's all for the best, ' he silently added, lazily blinking.

‘It’s better you’re not here…It’s better you stayed back,’ he thought with true gratefulness, a shuttered, thankful breath falling past his painted lips.

He thought of her running into the Stand user herself, doubting she’d have any better luck than he did, because after all, her stand wasn’t made much for the offensive, just as his own stand wasn’t.

Hers was meant for love; to care for and tend others. It did wonders on everyone else, the drawback being that the power was useless to her, something that was befitting of such a selfless person.

She could do wonders for others, but not for her own self.

‘And If you were hurt...I just know that bastard Giorno would have the time of his life fixing you up,’ He thought bitterly, hating how close the two had gotten, right from the start,

“It’s nice to have another healer,” she said while showing off a happy, little, quirky smile, one that made Abbacchio’s jaw clench, and seemed to have its own effect on the younger male as well.

Sweetly, Giorno smiled back, a featherlight blush dusting over his features, “(f/n), right?” He said back, meeting her halfway to grasp her hand, the small contact being something the elder man paid attention to keenly because it bothered him so much to see her cozy up to the rookie as though they were old pals.

“ Bucciarati mentioned you briefly.” He revealed to her, making her smile grow,

“Really?” She said surprised, “What did he say?” She asked curiously, wondering just what her Capo had said about her to the rookie.

What was she known for?

“He said well...” Giorno trailed off while suddenly growling nervous as the words formed a knot in his throat, “ Oh well, nothing really!” he insisted, not wanting to repeat that he’d actually referred to her as ‘the pretty, little sweetheart,’ much more, that he’d actually agreed with him the second he found himself locked eyes with her and she smiled to him, seeming to be the most amiable of the group.

It was easy to tell that in some sort of way, Giorno liked her and it irked him. It bothered him even more so to see that not only Giorno showed interest in her, but also had the nerve to go out of his way to make her giggle, finding any excuse to do so, behaving innocent with each attempt, 

"Usually the flowers trail behind you," Giorno started, falling into step with (f/n) as she walked alone, "But today..." he trailed off, humming, "I don't know, " He started, “You don't seem as bright," He added, quirking a brow, stopping right before her, reaching down to lift her chin up.

"It just isn't right," He told her, concerned, the genuine look of worry crossed over his features.

"What do you mean?" (f/n) asked, her dimmed (e/c) colored eyed gleaming up at him, curious as to what he meant.

She knew that perhaps she seemed dull, but to be fair she hadn’t had much sleep to begin with.

"You haven't smiled today," He explained, "which isn't right, as the sun should always shine," He added.

Shaking her head, (f/n) giggled, finding the quirky, little line to be even cornier than Mista’s own cheesy throw-away ones. She was ready to comment on it when his stand appeared before her, the humanoid being’s power at work,

" Giorno," She muttered, watching with growing eyes as a little flower sprouted from the blonde’s hand, the golden, little face of the white petaled blossom facing her,

"Ah...There we go," He mused, a cute, little dust of pink on his own face, chuckling at his own moronic actions.

Perhaps it was over the top, but he knew it would liven her up, and that's all that mattered to him at the moment, because to him, if anyone deserved to have a smile drawn over them, it was the kind woman.

All the while, (f/n) thought of him as sweet, the charming young man being someone she greatly appreciated for his considerate nature, while on the opposite end, the other man in the room brooded, annoyed.

"Tch, " Leone clicked his teeth, his eyes fallen far away from the pair as he ground his teeth together, turning his nose,

'She'll grin at anything he does,' He thought irked. 'She'll just stupidly smile at any shit anyone tells her,' He added, wanting to turn back and eye the cute, little expression, but knowing full well it would scathe him as he remembered just why it existed.

"Shit.." He muttered, trying to push the thought of her away as he realized that she’d yet again invaded every bit of his mind, even during his final moments of what was supposed to be peace.

And it seemed as though somehow, his thoughts had reached her, because before him a small moving blur grew, coming closer to him with hasty speed,

“Abbacchio!” He heard her say, following up with large pants as she knelt before him, immediately falling to both her knees to be more on his level, the skin above both joints burning from the sudden, harsh friction.

He could smell the sweet scent of her perfume, the smell very faintly wafting into his nose as she came even closer, slipping through the personal bubble he’d kept himself in. 

During then her (e/c) colored eyes skimmed over him and every beaten bit of him that was visible, visually shaken at the sighed of his missing limb.

'she came…' he thought to himself, 'she….bothered to come…' he added, grimacing.

After he ordered her to stay…

After he'd pushed her away so many times already…

‘You always come to me…’ He said to himself, falling forward, his heavier body almost toppling her over with the sudden action.

"Hey!" She began worriedly, steadying him, slowly easing him back towards the wall to sit upright, “Come on now,” she encouraged him, her comforting smile present as her hands which were firmly placed on his shoulders immediately went to cup his cold cheeks,

“Abba,” She urged him, “ Stay with me,” She added as she gently eased his lolling head straight, trying to get a better look at his paled face with frantic (e/c) colored eyes.

“I’m right here now,” She told him, “ So you're going to be just fine,” She assured him with an unshaken determination.

He squinted, trying to get his eyes to work right, only to find himself stuck on her own shining (e/c) colored gems.

Her (dark/light) eyes looked into him, and as she did so, he felt an electric charge run up his spine at the glance, the powerful bolt that came down on him raking his entire being with unforgiving violence.

He was spiritless in the motion, yet somehow found it in himself to stray his golden orbs away, deciding to not challenge her own look with his own fading will, the man slowly growing even smaller beneath the grace of her sweetly trained stare.

“Quit staring...Quit looking...at me...like that,” He grumbled, savoring down the bitter metallic taste in his mouth, "Tch… you damn idiot," he rasped, slowly shaking his head from her sweet hold, doing so with all the mustered strength he had left.

He couldn't feel anything, and yet it burned, her touch scathed him, the unbearable ache that was present bursting through from deep within his being.

Maybe she was overreacting she reasoned, chuckling wearily, but unable to fight back tears,

“ It’s just...I...I thought I’d come here too late!” She cried out, not able to resist the urge to hold him, latching onto him with desperation, the bloody grime over his body sticking onto her clothing, causing her smell of sweetness to be masked by his pungent gore.

By then his head was pressed to her chest, placed right over her heavily beating heart as she continued to shake, holding on tightly in a desperate embrace, 

“For just a moment there…” She muttered, “ I thought I was going to lose you,” she added, little tears still pricking her eyes as she began to heal him, her (e/c) colored eyes closed as she coddled him.

'stop...stop touching me ...' he thought to himself, his lethargic body beginning to squirm as she tended him, her hold on him remaining unmoved.

'stop crying over me,' he added feeling her tears fall over him, the droplets falling onto his face even after she’d expressed her relief, despite the fact that gradually his body began to feel warm again, function slowly coming back to him.

'stop…' he pleaded, his bottom lip quivering, wanting to snap at her and make her go away altogether.

He could feel his fingers begin to move, his gaze beginning to align right with the more time he spent under her care.

“(F/n),” He rasped lowly, her head rising at the utter of her name as her face lit up the sound of his voice. And it was then that she drew back from him, her brightened eyes gazing into his glowing eyes with expectancy.

(E/c) eyes stared right at him, her face streaked with salty tears and as she saw the dimness from his golden eyes begin to fade, her face lit up with sheer joy,

“Leone,” She said softly, a smile gracing her, very faintly taking over her, "I’m so ha-," she started, cut off as his hand that was now healed, took hold of the back of her head, tightly weaving itself through (h/c) strands as he grabbed her,

"Why don't you just stay away from me?" He said lowly, teeth grit together as he shoved her down, straddling her as he glared down at her, " You shouldn't be here," he reminded her, “remember?” he asked her, having thought he’d been very clear.

“Are you an idiot?” He went on, his grip on her hair bound tight enough that it began to sting, causing her to wince, “If that asshole was around still...what would you have done?” he asked her, already knowing the answer.

He thought about it with so much rage it had him shaking,

‘ Don’t you get it? I’m doing this for you!’ He thought to himself with utter frustration. 

All the while her eyes were wide as she wordlessly looked up at him, caught beneath him as he continued to loom over her, the sight making his hold slacken for just a fraction of a second, realizing just what he was doing,

“Damn it (f/n),” He grumbled, continuing to look down at her, completely taken by the sight of her in her current state, his vexation slowly dying out.

Through teary-eyed and bloodied, she seemed beautiful lying beneath him, her (h/c) colored strands caught in his hand and tangled there to create the very same scene he’d selfishly conjured up on more than once occasion.

Mindlessly, his eyes then drew down to her lips, tempted by the sight of their inviting curve and thickness, causing his own to press together with longing.

She was filthy now, drenched in his blood, her back pressed onto the filthy ground as well, and even then, it took nothing away from her beauty and much more, the undeniable attraction he had for her.

“It’s so damn annoying when you think I need you,” He told her, trailing off as he came down closer, his lilac-colored lips almost touching her (color) ones, “...even more annoying when you're right.” He muttered, hating just how perfectly she fit beneath him.

They fit like two puzzle pieces slowly being inched together, and he’d already known it would be the case.

“Leone...I want to tell you I l-”

“I know,” He said quietly, “ I already know,” He told her, his heart racing, not wanting to hear her say it, because he knew he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he actually heard her say it.

He was currently struggling, unable to function right, and the single admittance would undoubtedly rattle him, making him do something he’d long fought,

“So quit crying. And quite following me around like a lost dog,” He told her, his voice soft, the words meant to be snide, but missed all the bite they needed.

“I...I don’t want you around me,” He struggled to say, biting his lip afterward.

‘You say so.. but you haven't drawn back,’ She noticed, ‘You’re shaking...And all the while your eyes...Your eyes are so soft,’ she mused, a sudden realization falling down upon her with the weight of a ton,

‘...You’ve been doing it purposely.’ she understood, ‘ But you’ve also been hesitant.’ 

"...Why do you do this?" She asked him, her heart heavy as she looked up at him, seeing the same hurt crossed over his features as he tried to push her away yet again.

It was a frail shove, but a sign of resistance nonetheless.

‘Whenever I feel so close to you...Whenever we’re just inches apart, you find a way to drift back away.’ She thought to herself, helpless as she was stuck in the same repeated cycle with him.

Yet again, he was so painfully close, but all the same remaining distant, blocked off as though there was a stone wall between them.

"- It's better," He said to her, though sounding unconvinced.

He shook, his breath being both inhaled and released in the same shaking manner as for just a second, his lips brushed hers, accidentally smudging the soft color of his lips onto hers,

“How?” she dared to ask. 

“ Don’t you get it? I’ve been trying to fight it... But when you go out of your way for me, I just want you more,” He admitted, swallowing down harshly. "So just quit it already," He begged, "Before I regret it...before you regret it too," he added.

"I'd never regret it," She insisted, "because I lo-"

Cutting her off, he smashed his lips to hers, his palms both pressed to her cheeks as he rocked his body to hers, wanting to completely melt over her,

“(f/n)” He said in between the heavy kiss, “What did I tell you,” He panted roughly, his lips trailing down her jaw, falling over the flesh of her neck with long, wet kisses as his hands traveled down to her waist, holding her still.

“Just stop, “ He argued, also being a hypocrite, occupied with trailing his mouth over her, not being the one to draw back instead.

“No..” She breathed, “Because I...I love you.” She said instead, feeling his body suddenly tense, his actions stopping, suspended as he held in a breath.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so much Leone,” She said to him, her hands reaching for his long strands of hair, the silky lengths weaved through her fingers before she curled them down to her palms, tugging them whilst he released the air in a small, light groan.

‘And I don’t want to ever lose you,’ She thought to herself, eyes shut tightly as she focused on the feeling of his hands roaming over her body, desperate to grip every bit of her.

As she’d seen him bloody, and barely alive, she knew she couldn’t live without telling him the truth that lay locked within her chest, much more when she began to understand his own reasoning.

“(f/n)...I...I love you too,” He finally admitted, breathing along the side of her neck with tightly shut eyes as the last bit of his resistance died, by then the only thing he held back on was the threatening tears that welled in his eyes as his body relaxed, finally finding ease.

So this was basically Abba the Tsun-Tsun （≧ｙ≦＊）

[theimpossiblescheme]

The Rebirth of Lupin III

(I was rewatching Part 4, and this plot bunny took me hostage after watching Episode 14, “The End of Lupin III”.  After what was probably Lupin’s most harrowing near-death fakeout yet, I couldn’t help but wonder about the aftermath, and before I knew it I’d written this.  I hope everyone enjoys it!)

It wouldn’t have been the first time Lupin the Third “died.”  Hell, given his track record, it probably wouldn’t be the last either.  But damn if he hadn’t put on one hell of a show.  Old Pops had been wrapped around his little finger the entire time—the discarded meals, the weakened voice, the repeated talk about the end being near… that final scene with the shared cigarette… the genuine sorrow in Zenigata’s voice, even moreso than all the other times… it was his finest performance yet.

It might also have been his stupidest.

Turned out skipping meals for multiple months, only eating what he absolutely had to in order to finish the painting on the cell floor… that kind of stunt tended to really negatively impact your health.  Go figure. The amount of times he’d blacked out midway through mixing his makeshift paints, or he’d felt the acid from his own empty stomach rising into his throat as he worked… he’d honestly lost count.  Walking made him dizzy, and that last cigarette tasted like nothing so much as burning tar on his lips, even as he forced himself to finish it.  That final scene, hearing his ears ring as Pops spoke and feeling his hands shake under his blanket, really did feel like one.  Empty stage as Lupin collapses before he can even unveil his master plan. Before he can live up to Pops’ faith in him.  Lights out. Curtain.

It had been an honest to God miracle he’d made it farther than that.  Standing to gloat over his victory as Zenigata finally opened the cell made his legs teeter dangerously, and his throat still felt raw, but if he was going to live to see the finale, by God he was going to make it an unforgettable one.  He’d managed to walk away smiling as Pops could do nothing but laugh in hysterical disbelief, and Lupin felt a bit of that hysteria bubbling up in his own lungs, too.  He’d actually pulled it off… damn, somebody up there must really like him.

Somebody out on the bay liked him, too, apparently.  As soon as Rebecca and Robson’s motorboat sped into view, Lupin wasted no time leaping into the water after it.  Finally, another familiar face—even if his limbs felt like they might snap at any moment, he was still going to make it out to them.  To know that Rebecca had made it out alive, that she hadn’t given up on him even after so long.  When she hauled him up into the boat, his head lolled onto her shoulder against her neck, and he noticed her perfume had changed.  Some new label must have sent her fresh samples… she smelled nice, like a fruity cocktail on a summer day…

Rebecca brushed a lock of hair out of his face, and he suddenly became very aware of how long he’d let it get.  “You look terrible,” she said with a very faint smile.

Lupin managed a wheezing chuckle in response.  “Yeah, probably.”

And then he blacked out again.

*

When he came to, he was in an actual bed.  With sheets and a pillow.  What a difference it made on his neck—sleeping on concrete had done him no favors.  On the endtable beside him was a bowl of stew, still hot, and a cup of what smelled like lemon tea.  Not his favorite, but beggars and choosers and all that, and Robson really didn’t have to go to the trouble.  Besides, after so long actively avoiding any food provided him, it smelled goddamn delicious.  Even with his arms and legs still feeling like matchsticks, Lupin still managed to sit up and help himself.  The stew was gone in nothing flat, and the tea was half-finished and cooling by the time Lupin felt strong enough to stand up.  The Rosselini’s guest rooms were comparatively plain next to the rest of the house, but they could still stand up respectably with any of Fujiko’s favorite upscale hotels.  

(Where the hell was Fujiko… or Jigen or Goemon for that matter… best not to think of that right now. He’d only just woken up, after all. There was still time… there was nothing but time now.)

And of course, the décor was hardly the highlight.  Propping himself against the wall, he turned the latch on the window and opened it, letting the morning breeze waft in and the sun warm his face for the second time in God knew how many days.

San Marino was still beautiful.  A jewel too big to pocket, but not too small to admire.  Lupin stood for a long moment drinking in the view before turning to the guest bathroom.

The sight that greeted him there was less than beautiful.  He still had the damn beard and long tangled hair, but that wasn’t the worst of it.  His cheeks had hollowed out into nothing, and his skin had gone so grey and cold from darkness and malnutrition it may as well not be there at all.  A skull framed with dark hair stared back at him from the mirror, and it took all of Lupin’s self-control not to hurl the half-digested stew and tea into the sink.  Of all the times he had to actually almost die, it had to be when he didn’t even look like himself.  A disguise would be one thing—his true face and body would still be underneath—but this…

This wouldn’t do.

Luckily, a razor and shaving cream had been left on the counter for him.  Lupin immediately snatched them up and began to fill the sink with hot water, actually tapping his foot impatiently as it didn’t fill fast enough.  He needed to see his face again, needed to know that it was still him under all this. When the sink was full, he wet the razor and hurriedly slathered the shaving cream across his chin and cheeks, even carelessly getting some into his hair.  This would be fine.  He’d be fine. Good as new, even.

If only his hands would stop freaking shaking…

He lifted the razor to the underside of his chin and instantly felt his hand slip.  A few seconds of panic preceded the bolt of pain as he felt blood drip into his fingers.  Damn it all… dammit dammit dammit, why’d he have to let it go this far?

“Lupin?”

The voice didn’t come from the door, but instead the window.  Lupin barely even processed that before wheeling around, knees weak and face burning with embarrassment.  He couldn’t let anybody see him like this, not even—

“Goemon!”

His samurai still had one leg out the window as he climbed through, but he froze in place upon seeing Lupin framed in the bathroom door.  A hundred different emotions warred in his eyes, and Lupin wanted so badly to run over and hug him before Goemon’s face settled into its usual stoicism. “Is this where you’ve been all this time?”

“Ah… not exactly,” Lupin said sheepishly, reaching a hand to the back of his neck and internally cursing the cold sweat that had gathered in his hair.  “I’m not really sure how long I’ve been here.  Rebecca and her butler came to get me after I got away from Pops.”  Another poor excuse for a chuckle wheezed out of him.  “Lemme tell you… they don’t half kid around locking somebody up here if they want ‘em locked up… it’s a lot worse if you don’t have the key.”

“I can see that.” Goemon finally drew closer, studying Lupin intently.  “You don’t look like you had an easy time of it.”

“Honestly, does anybody have an easy time in prison?  That’s why I try to stay out of it, y’know.”  But it was hard to keep even a weak smile in place, looking at Goemon now… God, he really could have died.  He could have never seen him again, or any of his gang.  Faking a grand exit for the benefit of Interpol, knowing he could return when the coast was clear, was so much different.  And Goemon looked so healthy next to him—he’d even put on a bit of weight for once, which told Lupin that Jigen must have found him a nice Japanese place outside San Marino.  Hell, compared to Lupin’s sorry state, he looked downright beautiful.  It felt like it had been years… Lupin could stand there staring at him for even longer than that.  How must Jigen and Fujiko look at this exact moment?  Were they worried about him?  Were they okay?  All at once, he wished they were all here, together, and that he didn’t look like the freaking Crypt Keeper when he went to greet them.

Goemon reached up and touched Lupin’s cheek with his fingertips, and Lupin tried very hard not to lean into the touch as he had with Rebecca.  “I’m not sure if the beard suits you, though.  Or the long hair.  You look a bit like something else crawled onto your head and died.”

That got a stronger, if extremely wry, smile out of him.  Nice to know both their senses of humor were intact.  “Yeah, not a fan myself… I don’t suppose you could…?”  He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not using my sword to give you a shave, Lupin.”

“No, not with Zantetsuken, dummy—just use the razor.”  There was the arch, fussy side of Goemon… he had to admit, he’d missed that, too.  Nodding as if he’d understood all along, Goemon picked up the razor and washed away the blood before cupping a hand around the back of Lupin’s neck and letting him lean back as he worked.  His hands were much steadier, almost gentle in their grip, and he was always a few degrees warmer than Lupin himself.  Endless physical exercise would do that, Lupin supposed—ironic, considering how much time he spent under freezing cold waterfalls and out in the snow. Fujiko’s hands were always just on the comfortable side of cold, but she avoided that kind of exertion if she possibly could.

“Where are the other two?” Lupin asked, trying to move his jaw as little as possible so he wouldn’t obstruct Goemon’s work.  “Are they--?”

“They’re both fine.  Fujiko had rented out a beach house on the Italian mainland to wait for you, and Jigen had been spending time at one of the casinos. When I called to let them know you’d escaped, they told me they were on their day—they should be here this evening.”

Thank God…  “So you finally figured out that phone I gave you, huh?”

“I’m not actually from the Sengoku Period, Lupin—I know what a cell phone is and how to use it.” He paused to wash off the razor again, and a very light pink stained his cheeks.  “Fujiko also helped a great deal.  Especially our first night in San Marino.”

“Oh, I’ll bet.”  For once, Lupin hadn’t meant it with any lewd intent, but it didn’t stop Goemon from yanking his head back a trifle harshly as he found a new angle with the razor.  “They’ve gotta be pretty pissed, too… that I took so long.  I know I would be.”

“They’re upset, certainly. But no more than usual for you.” It wasn’t said with any real malice, just as a blunt statement of the truth, but it still stung.  Did it make it any better or worse that for once—out of all the times he’d faked his death—he actually feared it might be for real? Instead of just an act he’d strung them along on for the sake of the greater plan?

Probably worse.  At least all those other times, the plan was to come back.

“I’ll do better next time.” And he really did mean it. Although he’d probably stave off the “next time” for as long as he could—one impregnable prison cell full of rotten uneaten food was enough.  “And I’m definitely not gonna let it go this far.  Believe it or not, the beard isn’t even the worst of it.  With my hands the way they are, I’d hate to think what’ll happen when I need to pee.”

“As long as Jigen doesn’t have to hold you up.”  There was no smile on Goemon’s face, but there was one in his voice.  “And I know for a fact he’ll hold you to that promise.”

Lupin couldn’t help but grimace.  As much as he’d love to see his gunman again… “Yeah, not looking forward to that conversation.  Not just ‘cause I’m gonna bruise like a banana if he punches me.”

“I’ll do my best to separate you.” There was the smile—it softened up the prematurely harsh lines of Goemon’s face as it always did, and Lupin had to remember to keep his head still and resist the temptation to kiss his cheeks until his lips went numb.  Rinsing off the razor again, Goemon tilted Lupin’s head slightly to his right.  “I might be at this for a while—please promise me you’ll never grow a beard again.”

“You got it, man.  And I got all the time in the world.”

[kimistorm]

It's All a Little Strange || Chapter 5 (Dr. Strange x Reader)

You yawned and made your way through Kamar-Taj. You had just come from an overnight shift and even though it was just starting to get bright, you were already tired. You were on your way to your room to change out of your scrubs when you passed by a certain dark-haired man, “Strange!” you yelled at him and his head perked up at the sound of his name. You waved a hand and he noticed you, “meet you at the courtyard when you can!” he gave you a thumbs up to show he heard it and you continued on your way.

Once you were safely in your room, you changed out of your scrubs and pulled on the layers of blue and green fabric. You then changed your sneakers for the leather boots that were a part of your outfit. You tightened a belt here, straightened the shirt there and you exited your room and back out to the clearing.

“Mordo wants to spar with you later.” You explained when Strange entered the clearing in the courtyard. You didn’t wait long until he showed up. “So, I’m going to help walk you through it before you face him.” The air around you crinkled into reflective fractals as the mirror realm made itself known. “That way, you won’t be completely obliterated.” You added smugly and walked into the mirror realm.

“How’s Christine?” he asked when he entered the mirror realm.

“Really?” you asked in exasperation and placed a hand on your hip, “I’m about to teach you how to spar and you ask me how Christine is?”

“She hasn’t answered my email.” He explained.

“She’s fine.” You frowned, “she’s justified for ignoring you.” You drew out a glowing blue shield in your hand and ran straight at Strange who just barely managed to dodge out of the way. “Always be prepared.” You tsked and with a flick of your wrist the shield transformed into your weapon of choice. An icy chakram. Typically you wielded two, but you figured you’d go easy on Strange. Just for the warm up. You ran at him again with your chakram coming around to land a solid hit.

“What am I supposed to do?” he cried out in a panic and dodged your weapon.

“Conjure a weapon,” you sliced at him, “a shield,” you sliced at him again, “or, just dodge them all.” He ducked under a third slice and you dropped to the ground. You placed your free hand on the ground and swiped your legs at his legs and caused him to topple to the ground. You jumped back onto your feet and lightly placed a booted foot on his chest. “I win.” You stepped off of him and walked away as he scrambled up to his feet.

“That wasn’t fair, I didn’t have a weapon.” He protested.

“Not everything will be fair.” You chastised and dismissed your chakram. You turned back to look at him, “do you know how to summon a weapon?”

“Not something like that.” He gestured to where your chakram was and shook his head.

“I wasn’t asking if you could summon a chakram,” you turned fully to him and crossed your arms across your chest, “I was asking if you could summon a weapon.” After a moment of him looking at you dubiously you continued, “have you figured out how to use a spell? A whip? Have you been attending the classes at all?”

“Of course I have.” He retorted and pulled his hands apart while summoning strings of bright red energy in between.

“There you go.” You smiled. “Again!” you summoned your ice chakram again and ran at him again. You did the same moves as you did before but this time he blocked your slices with the strings of energy. When you went down to swipe his feet out from under him he jumped above it and onto you. You transformed the chakram into a shield and held it above you to keep Strange from getting any closer than an arms length from you. “Better.” You nodded. You brought one hand away from the shield and then shoved it at the shield. The shield burst out with a burst of air and Strange was thrown off of you as you jumped up to your feet.

“Mordo likes to use the Staff of the Living Tribunal.” You explained and drew out a glowing red staff in the air.

“The Staff of the Living Tribunal?” Strange questioned and looked at you in confusion.

“I’m sure he’ll explain it to you.” You dismissed his question, “for now. Make sure you can counter these attacks.” You ran at him again with the staff raised above your head for a downward strike. You whirled around him last moment and prodded his shoulder with the staff. The two of you continued this dance of you giving light (or not so light) jabs everywhere on Strange’s body while he valiantly tried to block the hits. One good hit to the back of his knees and he fell to the ground.

“Do you know how to make a shield?” you questioned and dismissed the staff to imply to Strange that you weren’t going to attack him again. He got back up and dismissed the strings of energy as well.

“No.” Strange shook his head.

“That’s really no surprise, shields are much harder to conjure than weapons.” You agreed.

“Why?” Strange asked.

“Summon your weapon.” You nodded to him and he complied. “Now notice this,” you got close to Strange and pointed to the strings of energy, “your weapon is very wild. Flicks of it are going here, there, everywhere. It disappears here, but reappears here.” You stepped back and made eye contact with Strange, “you don’t need to have perfect control over the other dimensions to create your weapon.”

You drew out a circle for a shield and grabbed it. When it came into contact with your hand intricate patterns of arcs and circles appeared within the circle to form a solid shield. “This requires more focus.” Strange carefully scrutinized the glowing blue shield in your hand. “Notice the lack of flickering within the shape and the lack of sparks flying off of it.”

“It’s a different material.” Strange observed the different color from the standard red.

“Yes.” You agreed, “I like this material, but it’s also a different way to form a shield. This way is one of the slower ways. However, this way proves its own advantages. It’s a little less complicated, and it’s much easier to transform from a shield,” you flicked your wrist and spikes protruded from the edge, “to this chakram. Of course, it’s a matter of personal taste.” You dismissed the chakram and it dissolved into blue and white flakes, “you can do it with the red interdimensional matter.” This time you stuck your hands out and twisted them around with a few dynamic movements and two shields appeared in your hands. “Even with it being the same material as your weapon.” You gestured to Strange, “it doesn’t shed sparks.”

“And this is all because you have better control over the matter?” Strange clarified and examined the shield in your hand.

“Yes and no.” You shrugged, “the nature of the shield is also not one where it sheds sparks. Look at the Ancient One, she has extreme control over interdimensional matter, but the portals she creates still sheds sparks. But, her control over the matter allows her to create the shield. Does that make sense?” you questioned.

Strange nodded, “because of her control, she can summon a shield.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, “look at it like a requirement. You need to possess a certain level of control to create the shield.”

“And you can form this into a chakram?” Strange questioned and backed up a bit so he wouldn’t get his head chopped off when you transformed the shield.

“Correct.” You confirmed and with a flick of your wrist the shield transformed into a chakram. “Would you like to learn how to do this?” you questioned.

“Teach me.” Strange demanded.

✯✯✯

The two of you had been practicing for quite awhile. Strange was obviously getting frustrated and you were finding it hard to be patient. “It’s my hands!” Strange cried out and held out his trembling hands, “they can’t control it.”

“It is not your hands.” You snapped, “you’ve seen Master Hamir. He can form a shield no problem. He has even more control over interdimensional matter than me.”

“Yes, but his arms are stable.” Strange retorted exasperatedly, “mine shake!”

“This isn’t a physical thing Strange.” You shook your head, “think of it as your astral projection is controlling the matter.”

“How does that even work?” he asked incredulously.

You were finding it harder and harder to deal with his frustration and endless questions, “it just does okay?” you nearly shouted at him, “try thinking about it like this. Your astral projection is unaffected by your damaged nerves in the physical realm. Therefore, you can’t chalk up your inability to do this because of your shaking hands.”

“But-”

“The Ancient One proved you wrong did she not?” you shouted, “your shaking hands had nothing to do with your inability to create a portal! I already explained to you that it’s very difficult to make a shield, it took you a long time to even figure out how to pull matter from another dimension, you can’t expect that you’ll be able to figure out how to form a shield in less time!” you took a deep breath and walked away from Strange.

“(l/n)-”

“Give me a second Strange.” You forced through your teeth. You took more deep breaths and tried to walk off your frustration and anger. You then decided to sit down and try some meditation. So that’s what you did. You sat down on the cold stone, closed your eyes, and counted your breaths. In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3. In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3. Your anger quickly dissolved into fatigue as the stress and exertion that you’ve been placing upon yourself for the past few days. You tried to stay awake, but your eyes were already closed and you felt yourself fall asleep.

Strange noticed you sway a bit before you fell forwards as you drifted out of consciousness. He rushed forward and caught you before your face collided with the rough stone. He fixed his hold on you and then picked you up bridal style while your head lolled about. You were completely out of it. He gazed down at your sleeping face. Your (e/c) eyes were unseeing to the world around you and your (h/c) hair splayed out neatly in his arms.

He didn’t know where your room was; you never showed him. So he decided to bring you to his room. He attempted to hold his hand out while the other made a circle to the portal and surprisingly enough, it worked. The portal opened up directly into his room. He entered through the flickering circle out of the mirror dimension and into his room where he laid you on his bed. You curled up on yourself like you were cold and he pulled the blankets over you.

“What have you been doing?” he murmured to himself and sat in a chair and opened one of the new books Wong had given him, “sure hope you didn’t do that at the hospital.”

Masterlist

[senstia]

Hii!! I love your page!! Do you do headcanons? If so: drunk neil w the foxes and andrew?? Again i love your page!❤️❤️

Hi!! Thank you so much! People don’t ask for them often but i’m always happy to do them!!

-Pls excuse my terrible grammar, punctuation and writing in general loll im very bad

-but anyway i love drunk neil hes the cutest boy ever and neil will always have my whole heart (and Andrews)

Here you go!!

The foxes decided to play 21 questions. It was Allison and Nicky’s idea. Neil attempted to opt out but they would have none of that. Neil wasn’t one to drink and since Nicky and Allison’s version of 21 questions involved a lot of shots he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about it. Losing control wasn’t something Neil was used to but all the foxes looked so happy and he knew Andrew would make sure he was safe so in the end he decided he’d play.

“Andrew your turn!” Nicky yelled enthusiastically. He may have pre-gamed the game a little bit.

“Not playing,” Andrew said. Neil was sitting on the floor below him looking nervously excited and already slightly flushed from the alcohol making its way through his system. Andrew wondered what kind of a drunk Neil was. Hopefully he wasn’t an angry drunk.

“Fine, fine i’ll go again. Ummmm lets see oooh oh i got one! Never have I ever kissed a girl before!”

Allison, Renee, Aaron, Matt and Kevin all downed their shots immediately. Neil frowned down at his drink but slowly tipped it back and swallowed.

“Wait pause, Neil you’ve kissed a girl before?” Matt asked. Andrew tried to hide the curiosity from his face as he looked down at Neil.

“A couple,” Neil mumbled, embarrassed.

“A couple?? Neil is a player! I’m offended you never told us! Must not have been that great since you decided to swing the other way huh?” Nicky blabbered.

Neil flushed bright red. “I already said I didn’t swing and I don’t. Those girls were nothing. Andrew is different.” Neil said. He knew the alcohol was making his tongue looser but there was no way for him to control it at this point.

“Different how?” Allison said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at Neil.

“Don’t answer that,” Andrew snapped at Neil.

“Well, i’m still offended. I thought I was your first kiss!” Nicky shouted. Apparently alcohol made Nicky louder than normal.

“Your first- what? You’ve kissed Neil?” Dan asked incredulously.

“Yeah well...” Nicky paused and looked up at Andrew. Andrew was leaned over closer to him and giving him a death glare.

“Go on Nicky,” Andrew said.

“Please don’t kill me,” Nicky squeaked out.

Andrew pulled a knife out of his armband and started twirling it in his hand. “Explain.”

Allison was continuously feeding Neil shots as they watched this confrontation.

“Well you see, we may or may not have kissed a few times the first time we took him to Columbia,” Nicky said, looking terrified.

“I thought I told you to keep your hands off him?” Andrew said, cocking his head.

“You told me to give him the cracker dust so I did!”

“I didn’t realize that included kissing,” Andrew said.

“Okay yeah so I may have taken advantage of the situation a little bit. But I mean come on can you blame me? Neil is beautiful, like male model beautiful. I just couldn’t help myself! And besides you weren’t even into him back then!”

Aaron wrinkled his nose in disgust at the words. Neil looked perplexed by the whole situation. Andrew looked murderous.

Andrew stared at him in silence with death in his eyes. He wanted to deny what Nicky had said but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to Neil back then, even with the hair and contacts.

“Oh. Oh. You were into him back then? I-I mean um well I thought you hated him when you two met?”

“I did.”

Nicky looked extremely confused and Andrew wanted to stab him so bad his hands were shaking.

“It’s called sexual attraction Nicky. Leave him be,” Renee said softly but not quietly.

Andrew glared at Renee but stayed silent.

“Right um I-I apologize. Please don’t kill me. Please.” Nicky said weakly.

“If you ever get anywhere near him again or compliment him like that again I will stab you in your sleep.”

Nicky squeaked and recoiled from Andrew but nodded his head vigorously.

Neil was just looking up at Andrew in wonder and awe. Andrew glanced down at him and raised his brows but Neil just kept staring. Andrew just rolled his eyes and looked away.

“Okay next round, Kevin’s turn!” Allison said.

The next few rounds went by with little to no drama and Neil knew he was completely trashed. Every thought he usually kept in his head was managing to make its way out of his mouth and he had no way to stop it. Andrew was always beautiful and Neil always loved him but it was like the alcohol was making every feeling he had for Andrew increase tenfold and he was having a really hard time trying to keep those feelings to himself.

Neil contented himself with staring at Andrew in awe. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how perfect his boyfriend was.

“Look at how he’s looking at him!” Allison loudly whispered to Renee happily.

Everyone in the room heard that and they all moved their attention to Neil. Neil was sipping a mixed drink and staring at Andrew like he put the stars in the sky. Andrew was trying as hard as he could to ignore this and was staring intently at the wall.

“Neil what are you looking at?” Allison said. She was an instigator at heart and loved seeing Neil fawn over Andrew. Neil looked over at the rest of the group like he hadn’t realized any other humans existed besides Andrew.

Neil sighed, “My boyfriend,” he said dreamily.

Nicky squealed and the only person who wasn’t grinning widely at Neil was Aaron. Even Kevin looked mildly amused. Andrew just looked down at Neil with a blank face.

“Why are you staring at Andrew Neil?” Nicky asked already getting excited by what his response might be.

“Because I love him,” Neil said with a huge smile on his face. Everyone was squealing and smiling at this and Aaron looked at Neil with something like disbelief on his face.

Andrew fought tooth and nail to keep his expression unreadable but he felt like his insides were being stuffed with sunshine.

“Stop that,” Andrew said and flicked Neil’s nose.

Matt frowned at this. He knew Neil knew what he was doing and he was sure Andrew was different when they were alone but he did think Neil deserved someone who could be a little more affectionate.

Neil noticed Matt’s frown and stage whispered, “Don’t worry Andrew says he loves me all the time, he just doesn’t show anyone else his soft side.”

Everyone started cracking up laughing at this. Neil peeked up at Andrew hoping he didn’t anger him. His mouth was getting really hard to control at this point.

“Sorry,” Neil whispered to Andrew.

Neil was looking at Andrew with the biggest puppy eyes and Andrew knew he was so screwed. Andrew thought to hell with it and brought his hand to Neil’s cheekbone. Neil nodded happily at Andrew and Andrew began stroking his cheek. He leaned in and softly brushed his lips against Neil’s. Neil let out a contented sigh and melted into the kiss. After a moment Andrew pulled back to look at Neil.

Neil pouted, “More,” he whined.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “You’re drunk.”

“Drew I want, I want...” Neil said helplessly.

“What?”

Neil leaned close to Andrew’s neck and paused. Andrew muttered a soft yes and Neil brushed his lips against Andrew’s neck. “All of you,” Neil whispered.

Andrew stood abruptly and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

“Drewww,” Neil whined loudly.

“Oh my god, oh my god. He has a nickname for him! I’m gonna die it’s so cute,” Nicky said excitedly nudging Kevin over and over to get him to watch Neil and Andrew. Matt, Dan, and Allison were all squealing in excitement at the spectacle and Renee was smiling quietly.

“Drink,” Andrew said and shoved the water bottle into Neil’s hand.

“Does this mean we can have sex?” Neil said excitedly. Aaron choked on his drink and cringed at this.

Andrew lightly smacked Neil on the side of his head. “Shut it. Drink your water.”

“Drewww.”

Andrew glared at him, “What?”

Neil scooted up closer to Andrew’s seat and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, “You’re really really beautiful.”

“If you’re trying to seduce me it’s not working,” Andrew said.

Neil cocked his head to the side dramatically. “Last time I said that you let me-“ Andrew put his hand over Neil’s mouth and Neil kept speaking beneath it.

“Finish that sentence and you’re sleeping on the floor.”

Andrew took his hand off Neil’s mouth thinking Neil was done but Neil finished his sentence aloud.

“-under five minutes, so I thought it worked,” Neil finished.

Nicky opened his mouth to say something and Andrew glared at him. “Say one word and you’re dead.”

Everyone was attempting to keep their laughs under control as Neil talked to Andrew.

Andrew got up again and Neil whined in protest. “Calm down i’m just getting you more water,” Andrew said as he stalked off.

Andrew came back and handed Neil another water bottle.

“Drewwww,” Neil said. Andrew just stared at him with raised brows.

“I love you. You’re the best person in the wholeeee wide world. And you’re also really really pretty. And your arms are super muscular. And you have beautiful eyes. And your hair is super soft. And I love that tiny freckle you have on your a-“ Andrew smacked his hand over Neil’s mouth again.

Andrew picked Neil up bridal style and growled, “We’re leaving.”

As Andrew walked out of the apartment with Neil in his arms Neil looked over his shoulder and waved happily at the foxes.

All the foxes just laughed at Neil and waved back at him.

Andrew plopped Neil down on their bed and stared down at him. Neil couldn’t remember anything he had just said but he had a hunch he had said some things he shouldn’t have.

“I’m sorry,” Neil said softly, wishing he was sober right now for about a hundred different reasons. The water had made it into his system enough that he was more aware of everything around him but he still felt off.

“Shut up. Yes or no?”

“Yes. Always yes,” Neil said breathlessly.

Andrew just sat down next to Neil on the bed and kissed him once softly on the lips. Neil sighed.

“Are you mad at me?” Neil asked.

“No. I love you.”

“Hug. Yes or no?” Neil asked.

Andrew just nodded and Neil wrapped him in a tight embrace. They stayed wrapped in each others arms for long minutes and right before Neil pulled back he whispered, “I love you too,” against Andrew’s neck.

Andrew got his answer. Neil was a sappy drunk.

[midnight0stars]

**Stay? ~ Modern AU Isa x Fem!Reader**

Words: 2092

The two of you sat together in darkness, eyes glued to the screen in front of you, though you were still hardly paying attention to it. You were suddenly regretting your suggestion to see a movie, unable to focus on what was going on over the feeling of his hand trailing lightly up and down your leg. You glanced over at Isa out of the corner of your eye, finding that he was seemingly paying rapt attention to the movie.

A touch of impatience ran through you as you tried to remember how long the runtime for this movie was. It felt like you had been sitting there for forever, suffering through the movie that you had been so excited for just an hour ago. Part of you wanted to lift his hand and tell him to stop, but the greater part of you was thrumming with anticipation of what direction this meant your night would take.

His hand dipped lower on your thigh, his thumb brushing over the seam of your jeans. You sucked in a breath at the sensation, almost a tickle but all pleasure as his hand slid further up your leg. Part of you was so wickedly tempted to jump him then and there, but a particularly loud crunch of popcorn from another movie goer snapped you out of it. You sighed, glancing over at Isa again, this time finding a small smirk upon his lips.

You blinked a bit in surprise before realizing what his smirk was for. He knew exactly what he was doing to you and was obviously doing it on purpose — though you really shouldn’t have expected anything different. In your irritation, you grabbed his hand, intending to shove it back into his own lap, but he captured his hand in yours, twining your fingers together. You let out a huff of annoyance but allowed him to keep hold of your hand. A shiver raced up your arm and you jerked to look at him fully, finding his lips still pressed to the back of your hand. The action turned you on more than you wanted to let him know, but the look he gave you as your eyes met broke your resolve.

You leaned forward, crushing your lips against his in a deep kiss, lips parting so your tongues could meet. He released your hand to grip the back of your head, tangling his hand in your hair. You stifled a moan, pursing your lips and pulling back from him.

“Screw the movie,” you said.

That was all the prompting he needed. He gave you a satisfied smile, grabbing your hand again and pulling you up out of your seat and then out of the theater. Your heart pounded in your chest as the two of you barely made it out of the theater before he pushed you into an alcove, hands gripping your waist. His lips found your neck, and you couldn’t help the soft groan that left your lips, ever aware of how quiet everything around you suddenly was.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night.”

His murmured words hummed against your skin, making you laugh breathlessly.

“I’ve been driving you crazy? I’m the one who’s been getting felt up all night.”

“Is that complaining I hear?”

“H-hardly.”

The word was a gasp as his hand found the skin of the small of your back and his teeth nipped your neck. Suddenly, you reached up to push him away, trying to hide just how heavily you were breathing already. You could feel your wetness beginning to soak through your panties, and you wanted nothing more than for him to have his way with you right then and there, but you also didn’t want to get banned from your favorite movie theater.

“My place,” you whispered in explanation to his questioning look.

He nodded in understanding and then the two of you were on the move again, exiting the building and finding your way out to the car. Of the two of you, your place was closer, and Isa navigated there easily, while simultaneously continuing to run his hand up your thigh. Every time he drew close to your core you involuntarily drew in a sharp breath, but it was better than becoming a moaning mess in the car.

When Isa parked the car, you couldn’t hold yourself back. You fumbled with the buckle of your seatbelt before managing to get free and leaned your body over the center console. It dug into your stomach uncomfortably, but you ignored it as your lips crashed together. You reached up and laced your fingers through his hair, letting out a soft moan that grew in intensity as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

“Isa,” you breathed, trying to press yourself closer to him.

The feeling of his palm pressed against the small of your back, and the center console inhibiting you from reaching him, made you draw back in frustration.

“Inside.”

His soft command, reading your mind, sent a shiver of anticipating running through you. You hastily turned to obey, throwing open the door and walking quickly up the path to your door. The deadbolt had barely twisted to unlock when you felt Isa’s hands at your waist, his lips pressing against your neck. You let your head loll to the side, offering him more of your skin that he eagerly lavished.

“I thought… nngh…” You moaned at his teeth nipping your neck, his affections leaving you breathless. “You said inside?”

“You’re irresistible,” he said against your skin.

A shiver raced down your spine and your knees buckled as he reached forward and pushed open your door. Without thinking, you reached down to grab his hands so that he couldn’t pull away when you hurriedly stepped past the threshold. You turned your head, redirecting his lips from your neck to meet your own lips, your body obediently turning under his touch as he made you face him. In the back of your mind, you wondered whether you should try to make it all the way back to your bedroom.

Your question was answered when his hand slipped under your shirt, lifting it as he trailed his fingers up your stomach to lightly trace along the bottom of your bra. Screw trying to make it to the bedroom. No sooner had the decision been made than his hands tugged at your shirt. You lifted your arms up over your head to assist him and in the next moment, the fabric was being tossed to the side.

His lips crashed back down on yours, hands roaming up your torso to find the clasp of your bra. After the long build up of anticipation in the theater and the car ride back, all you wanted was for him to take you and quickly.

“Isa…”

Your bra hit the floor, and there was only a brief moment of time between when the cool air of the room hit your breasts, and when Isa’s hands found them. He cupped them gently, thumbs grazing over your nipples, eliciting another shiver and moan from you. You tangled your fingers through his hair as he swallowed your moans, taking advantage of your parted lips.

Unable to stand it anymore, you pulled back just enough to whisper, “Take me.”

You felt the back of the couch against your skin as Isa pushed you onto it before kneeling down between your legs. The way he looked up at you, gripping your knees and spreading them, only served to make you even wetter, and you were seconds away from whining out his name. His hands slid up your legs, caressing your hips before hooking his fingers through your belt loops. Your fingers found the button of your pants, swiftly undoing it before his expectant eyes could even meet yours.

A smirk lifted his lips as he gave a tug at those belt loops, prompting you to lift your hips so that he could slide your pants down your legs. Impatience mounting ever higher, you yanked down your own panties to go with your pants. You knew if he had his way, he’d be teasing you far longer, and that was the last thing you wanted. When his hands found your thighs again and you had an inkling of what he was planning you wrapped your fingers around his wrists to stop him.

He looked up at you questioningly and you used your grip on his wrists to tug him up towards you. You weren’t quite strong enough to pull him up without a little assistance from him, but he obliged, and as soon as he was close enough you captured his lips with your own.

“Stop toying with me,” you told him after pulling away. “I’m ready for you.”

Isa held your gaze for a long moment before responding by standing and taking off his own clothes. Your eyes roved up and down his body, greedily taking in the musculature of his abs and chest and landing on his erection. It was obvious he was as ready for you as you were for him. In your distraction, he caught you off guard when he suddenly leaned forward, gripping your wrist to pull you off the couch, other arm looping around your waist as he spun the two of you around and switched your positions.

Sitting on the couch now, with you straddling him, Isa pulled you in close, peppering kisses along your collarbone and breasts as his free hand ran up your thigh to your waist, and then up further to trace the curve of your breast. As blissful as those kisses felt, as much as you enjoyed his lips on your skin, you still wanted more. You wanted him inside of you, and you wanted it now.

As he continued lavishing your body, back arching under his touch, your hands found their way down between your bodies, and your fingers wrapped around his shaft. His moan was a soft breath against your skin as you lifted yourself just enough that you could lower yourself back down and onto him. You echoed his moan, letting the noise last for as long as it took to take him deeply inside of you. With how aroused you were, you were wet enough that it was so smooth as he entered you that you almost came then and there.

Both of Isa’s arms wrapped around you then, pushing you downward in an attempt to get himself even deeper. You groaned at the sensation, tangling your fingers through his hair. He kissed you again, and that was when you started moving, gripping the back of the couch instead when you realized that would help you move better.

Even pressed against each other, you couldn’t help but arch your back into his touch when his lips found your skin. He teased the area around and between your breasts, ever so slightly brushing past your nipples, but not nearly enough to satisfy you. A sharp gasp left your lips when he finally did take your nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking it in a way that caused you to pick up your pace as you felt your release coiling within you.

As a particular thrust hit in tandem with the way he sucked your nipple, you cried out as you came, hands leaving the back of the couch to dig into his shoulders. Your movements had paused as you came, but as your senses returned to you, you kept moving, taking Isa as deep as you could until you felt him tense up underneath you. He thrust shortly into you a few more times before the two of you finally went still and you draped yourself over him.

After a few moments, you started lightly tracing random patterns over his chest, your eyes still closed. This was the part usually, where he would gather his clothes, kiss you goodnight, and then leave, but… This time you didn’t want him to. Actually, you never really wanted him to, but you understood the need for a little bit of space, to maintain your own lives outside of each other, despite how much you cared for each other.

Tonight though, when you felt the “I should go” about to come from his lips, you interrupted.

“Stay?” You phrased it as a question, not entirely sure how he would react. “I don’t want you to go.”

His arms tightened around you as he kissed the top of your head and whispered, “Of course.”

[themilky-way]

kinship {loki odinson}

gif credit: go-fandom-imagines

pairing: loki odinson x female! reader

summary: loki never thought that he’d defend, let alone protect, a midgardian. but after seeing you, in your most vulnerable states, he made it his mission to look after you. loosely based on this song. 

warnings: some hints of violence (nothing too graphic), blood, and like one bad word. also when the characters say “kid” to you, it’s nothing age wise it’s just something i feel they’d call you yk.

notes: i’m in my loki feels ya’ll know the drill i just miss this man. also ik some of u ladies don’t have long hair i’m sorry! i’m having a little trouble making the words fit and stuff so please give me tips on how to improve!

the first time it happened was when you were sleeping. he never meant to walk in on your frail body, curled up in a ball in the over sized armchair tony had installed in the common room. your feet were tucked in neatly beneath you, with one hand splayed out across your stomach while the other held a book, your thumb keeping it partially open. your head had lolled down so it could rest on the arm rest, and while at first it had been rather uncomfortable, you let your eyes naturally droop so they could rest. 

it had been the middle of the night, roughly around two in the morning, when loki decided to walk around the tower. he did this every so often, finding some sort of comfort from the peace and quiet the darkness held, but he had never encountered anybody else. he walked down the hall and past every avenger’s room, until he reached the living room. originally, his plan was to stand at the wide glass window the room displayed and simply watch the city lights glitter in all sorts of patterns. after that, he would go to the terrace for a bit, just enough for the sun to come up and the sky to change to warmer colors. but he didn’t do that tonight. why? well, he didn’t really know the answer to that himself. 

when he entered the room, he came across your sleeping form. he noticed the way in which you nestled your body further down the fur of the cushion and curled yourself into your body just a little more to stop goosebumps from forming. you were cold, your body heat not enough to cover the sharp temperatures that reached you. loki, taking note of this, took off his cardigan, and walked over to where you were sleeping. he straightened the delicate fabric before he laid the emerald green sweater over your frame. he tucked it in where he felt it might fall over with a random movement, careful to not dig his fingers in too deeply so it would hurt or startle you. next, he took the liberty to carefully retract the open book from your hand to place it on the coffee table, and then grabbed more of his cardigan so it covered your relaxed hand and tummy. he drew back a few steps, to examine his work. he felt it was mediocre, not as good as it might’ve been if steve or wanda had done it, but it was enough for you to rest. 

loki was not a man who grasped the concept of emotional connections very well. he was someone who didn’t have a feel for intimacy, who despised physical touch, who didn’t know anything about feelings other than hatred or malice. but here he was, peering down at your frail body, in one of its most fragile states that could possibly exist, and felt something. he didn’t know what it was, and he knew he didn’t want to find out, but it would reach him. the feeling, along with the desire, to get to know you in more intricate ways. 

he walked over to the couch a couple of feet to the right of where you were and took a seat, folding his left leg onto the soft, plush seat while the other one remained planted on the marbled floor. he had a view of the window, like he originally planned to study, but he found his attention drifting to another sight. he observed how quietly you breathed, the soft exhales that your nose released every few seconds. after a while, he noticed how your lips parted slightly and began to exhale with it instead. the soft breaths turned louder, and your snores were now evident to him. they weren’t loud, barely even there, and only lasted a minute or two before they returned to regular breathing. 

he also noticed how the hair on top of your head was beginning to disperse from its neat place. the soft, baby hairs that adorned the sides of your forehead lost their place and decided to scavenge for another, and the more you adjusted your head, the more they ruffled. he also saw the way your body slightly trembled from the sudden gusts of wind the air conditioner would send, and how you finally embraced his clothing. it sent a thrill through loki, the thought, the image of you breathing in his scent that lingered on his sweater, how you seemed to like it and do it so mindlessly. it empowered him. and so he stayed there until dawn. 

the next time loki encountered you in a similar state was two weeks later. tony had sent him to fetch you for a mission that was risky, and he had felt bad to include you since you had put in some vacation hours. loki, although he would never openly admit to anyone nor himself, had conducted some research on you since he first saw you. he knew you were stressed, deeply longing some time off to unwind and focus on yourself, and he seemed almost hesitant to follow through with stark’s request. nevertheless, he started his way up to your room, following the route to the elevator, and cutting some sharp corners to finally reach your corridor. as he was strolling down it, however, he caught the hints of different patternized beats and melodies coming from the end of it. he kept his ears perked in case he heard someone else, brows furrowed in confusion, but as he kept his pace and finally reached the outside of your door, he discovered the music was comingfrom you. he felt weird, intruding into your personal space like this, but in his defense, stark had sent him. just before he could reach up and properly knock, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. not sufficient enough for you to see him but enough for him to see you. he watched your body, a little too intently for his liking, flow to the rythmn of the upbeat song. your hands reaching up to run them through your hair while your hips swayed from side to side. your right foot would step out and then you’d bring your left one in, and then did the opposite. 

all in all, it was an innocent dance, you were releasing tension that you were holding in for a while, and you were happy. loki saw that, in your face to be more exact. his eyes first reached your own, which were closed and nowhere near recognizing his broad figure in your doorway. he scanned your nose, how your nostrils would flare harder than usual whenever you released a longer breath. he compared it to when he first saw you sleeping in the common room, and he couldn’t decide which event he liked better. he finally reached your lips, and he had to physically fight his newfound urges and stop himself from busting in and connecting them to his own. they were delicate, soft, and slightly chapped. it was evident that you picked at the skin on your bottom one because he noticed a small red patch on one side of your bottom lip. he couldn’t look away, and he felt awful, thinking of you in such intimate ways while you were unbeknownst of his presence. but what made him almost completely lose his mind was the moment in which you tucked that very same lip, the red, almost raw, portion of it between your teeth. he let his eyes run over the action, and felt an all too familiar emotion grow in the pit of his stomach, one that he never imagined you’d be the one to elicit.

he’d had enough. he’d seen enough. without thinking twice on it, loki barged into your bedroom, steel door hitting the wall with a strong bang, and spoke with authority. 

“stark needs you for a mission. he wants you onboard in ten.” you spun around to face him, a sharp gasp escaping your throat and shocked expression washing over your features. he had to mask his worry and regret of scaring you like this with indifference. he needed to do it like this. he couldn’t risk you turning too far and opening your oh so beautiful eyes only to find him creepily concentrating on you. 

“loki, what the hell,” you breathed. “you fucking scared me!” 

he tried to not let the way you had voiced that get to him. you were startled, frightened, and that mixed with the energy you were dancing with was sure to leave you gasping. but loki had seen you, twice now, in some of your purest forms. so the way you softly huffed his name, even for different reasons, made his mind run wild and his heart jump hurdles. he managed to keep his face stilled, though, and rolled his eyes and told you not to be such a wuss and to shut your music off. you walked over and turned the knob of your stereo down, complying. it took almost every cell in his body to keep from muttering out incoherent apologies, pulling you in close and stroking your ruffled hair. but he didn’t do that. 

“yeah yeah. whatever. can you tell tony that i can’t go? i’m taking some days off and i-”

“he made it clear to me that you’re presence is crucial to the outcome of this mission,” he interrupted, his voice low. you rolled your eyes and started to frantically assemble your go bag, thanking loki for the message. he wanted to stay and watch you do this too, but all he did was let out a hum of acceptance and walk out your door. as he walked through the corridors and seemingly endless turns to leave your dormitory, he replayed everything he saw, and a small smile curved its way onto his own lips. and for the entirety of the next week that you were gone, he kept doing it. 

you, with much reluctance, had hopped on the plane with steve, bucky, tony, and natasha. it was a hard mission, but you had been trained by one of the fiercest assassins that the world ever saw. so, alongside natasha, you fought almost effortlessly. but regardless of how effective you and your team performed, the enemy was also calculated. he managed to trick you into believing he was alone, that he was finishing this fight by himself. but when bucky was holding the sinister man down, he got hit with a strong blow to his shoulder. the metal of the bullet would have clashed against the metal of his own arm, but this bullet, according to the dying words of the man, was made especially for bucky. he was wounded, and tony flew to get him off the field as quickly as he could. natasha took hold of the man and held him down one last time, and as more of his soldiers appeared all around you, you and steve attacked them. you gave your everything, landing nasty blows in every direction. steve threw his shield to pin an adversary to the side of a car as he pinned you down on the ground, and you reached over to take it out of the man and shifted so you were able to see behind you. as soon as you did, you connected the blue and red colored metal to the face of another enemy. the last one. the team, from wherever they were standing, relaxed a little and looked around at all the casualties. tony and natasha had managed to take care of the leader, and steve looked over at you from his protective stance and grinned proudly. but his smile abruptly disappeared when he saw you fall back down. he noticed a small pool of blood collecting around your torso and rushed to your aid. 

“tony, (y/n)’s wounded too! get the jet and get her inside. i’ll get bucky,” steve said hurriedly. tony landed shortly after and told friday to bring the jet down to your coordinates. steve looked down at you and let his hand caress the top of your head lightly before speaking again. “hang in there, kid, we’ll take care of you.” 

you tried to make out his figure leave, and eventually run, to where bucky was lying to bring him aboard. you couldn’t really see him, though, because your vision was beginning to blur and your ears had started to ring. you attempted to keep your eyes open to see tony press a tech device to your wound and you winced, eyes squeezing shut tightly. all at once, you stopped hearing tony’s scrambled words, muscles around your face and body going completely numb. then, you succumbed into full darkness and so did everyone and everything around you.

the next time you opened your eyes, it was to a dimly lit operating room. your visual acuity quickly adjusted as your eyes kept bouncing around the different light bulbs, and then you turned your head to the right. you saw bucky peacefully sleeping, a patch adorning the top of his shoulder and an iv scaling up to the actual bag containing the medicine. you then raised your head a little to see that your clothes had been changed to some medical shorts and an oversized t-shirt. you knew then that it had been wanda who had helped, seeing as the band displayed on the shirt was her favorite. next, you turned to the left, and this time, you saw the back of a male figure. after careful study and concentration, you realized it was bruce. 

“bruce?” you voice came out in a hoarse and cracked whisper. but it was loud enough for bruce to turn around and gleam at you. 

“(y/n)! i see you’re awake, can i get you anything?” he took off his glasses and set them down next to some documents and walked over to you. you nodded weakly and shakily asked for some water, making an effort to get up from the bed but stopped after you felt a sharp pain take over the left side of your abdomen. you winced and let out a painful groan, and bruce instantly took a hold of your arm as his other hand reached around your back to steady you.

“careful, you’re hurt.”

“what happened, exactly?” you wondered, voice starting to come back to normal. by now, you were properly seated along the edge of the bed with your feet unsteadily planted on the ground. once bruce saw that you were stable enough to not fall, he allowed himself to pour water from a pitcher into a glass that had both been on your side table. you took the glass into your shaky hands and brought the rim up to your lips, relishing the hydration it brought to your dry mouth. you swigged it rather quickly, and bruce took it back and set it down before answering your question. 

“well, you were on a mission, from what steve tells me. they brought you and bucky to me as soon as they could. you were stabbed, kiddo. i patched you up and took out your iv about an hour ago.”

your lips parted and let your jaw open a little in a surprised motion. you had a knife, at one point in your fight, plunged into you? you didn’t even feel anything. your head started to throb now that you were fully awake, and you could feel the pain more clearly. 

“you’re strong, you know,” his voice brought you back to him. it was reassuring, gentle, just like you knew bruce was. “all of you guys are.” 

you smiled at him and reached out to touch his hand, and squeezing it lightly. he pulled you into a hug, and you accepted it kindly, acknowledging the help and most importantly the presence of one of your best friends. when you pulled back, he saw you grimace as another shot of pain spread across your abdomen. he asked you if you desired to go to your room, and after you said yes, he was quick in his efforts to completely stand you up and off the bed. his hand was holding one of yours, and the other was on your back like before, but just as you were beginning to walk, another voice spoke. 

“i can take you. if you allow me.” 

your eyes diverted in the direction of the voice it came from, and you landed on a pair of sharp blue orbs. stopping dead in your tracks, you found your mouth becoming dry again. his eyes pierced into your own, and you couldn’t find any word combination that would possibly make sense. you looked at bruce, as did he, and you found yourself nodding. you turned back to see loki all stood up and heading over to where you were standing. since bruce was holding you from the right, loki let his hand slip around your waist on the other side, a few goosebumps forming around your body at the contact. the other hand, reached to take yours in his and held it strongly. you started walking again, at first slowly, but once you got the hang of your own legs again, it became much easier for the both of you.

the walk to your room was silent, but not awkward. he grip on your waist was sturdy, but gentle and whenever you let out huffs of pain, he would stop and allow you to rest for a while. eventually, you reached your door, and he let go of your hand to open it. 

“may i?” loki inquired. you simply nodded again, and he led you in. when you saw the arrangement of pillows and blankets that awaited your arrival, it took you aback. you looked at him before asking, “did you do this?”

he stared at you for a few seconds, enough time for you to feel butterflies crawling around, and nodded.

during your entire stay at the tower, you couldn’t really deny the way you saw loki. it wasn’t anything deep, just a simple, growing attraction towards him. when you first arrived, loki was being detained after literally destroying the entire city, so his attitude towards you was hostile. but you found him handsome, despite his rude behavior, and his snappy comments and witty banter made the emotion within you much stronger. over time, you tried your best to be nice to him, to really get to know him unlike the majority of your team. no matter how many times loki shut you out of his life, you didn’t take it personal and continued to be your happy and cheery self when you saw him. 

over time, loki stopped fighting to keep you out, and he switched from being rude to acting annoyed. you viewed this as a win and didn’t delve too much into far more personal problems to keep him from shutting you out again. despite you promptly sticking to this ideology, you couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t speak to you as often as he did these past few weeks. it was strange, but then again, it’s loki, you thought.

god, but now, he does this? watches you for who knows how long while you’re in the middle of a drug-induced trance? offers to take you to your room, which apparently he’s arranged to fit your commodity, and holds you so perfectly? it’s all too much for you, the way he makes you feel, but even though you try to push the thought away, it bombards once more. 

one of your legs gives out, and you almost, almost fall to the ground. his free hand reached over to grab the other side of your hip to hold you, tightly squeezing the soft muscle that was there. he stilled, watching you intently to see if you were alright and looking for any signs of severe pain. you felt his gaze on you, but you didn’t look up, fully knowing that if you did, you’d give out again. instead, you looked down at your oversized clothes and focused on the design.

“let me get you to bed, so you can rest. can i do that?” his tone was caring, nursing even. his voice was silky, intoxicating your senses more than you liked. you wanted him to talk forever and listen to him rant about endless topics that were running through his mind. but right now your well being prevented you from doing that so you simply muttered, “please.”

he moved so he was behind you, his hands moving along the fabric of your clothes so they didn’t separate from your waist. he pushed you gently and guided you to your side of the bed, eventually letting his hands slide off gradually from your sides as you sat. you missed his touch as soon as it left. and he missed touching you.

as you scooted up so your head could lay on the soft, cushioned pillow, loki removed some other ones that he deemed unnecessary to your comfort. then, he grabbed the folded blanket he placed at the foot of the bed and unfolded it over you. immediately you nuzzled into it and took in the scent that it gave off, and you could’ve sworn that you recognized it. loki noticed it, and he let his mind wander to the night he took care of you sleeping, how you’d done the same exact thing to the smell of his cardigan. it sent him into a frenzy, stomach erupting into fluttering butterflies, hands turning clammy, and pinkish heat coloring his cheeks. how was it possible, he thought, that you made him feel like this. he didn’t notice how long he had observed you for, his eyes raking up your body and wishing nothing more than to embrace it once and for all. to feel the warmth of your hugs, and to ease your pain, even if it would be for a brief moment. his eyes continued traveling up towards you face, and when he finally reached your eyes, he found yours already looking at him. 

“you can take a seat over there if you’d like?” you questioned him. you nudged with your head at a sofa that was behind him, and he furrowed his eyebrows as he looked back to look at it. he turned back around and asked, “you want me to stay?”

“yeah, i kinda do. you don’t have to obviously,” you stopped mid sentence as a new wave of pain rushed through, grimacing. as it passed, you continued, “but it’d be nice.”

of course he was going to stay. he knew he didn’t have to, but he wanted to. he wanted to take care of you, nurse you in every possible way he could so you could dance animatedly again. so you could fall asleep in the common room, reading your favorite novel and cuddle his sweater. and he wanted you. so without much hesitation this time, he offered you a warm, kind smile and made his way to the sofa and settled in. you, on the other hand, adjusted so your legs were folded but your back was still on the bed to avoid hurting yourself. it was an uncomfortable position, but you weren’t one to complain. you stayed there looking at the ceiling and counted the little glow in the dark stars that tony had glued for you. all the while you could feel a strong gaze look at you, but you were too afraid to say something or even look over. about ten minutes passed with utter silence, the sounds of breaths being exhaled exempt. 

“you could’ve died.” 

“we all could’ve.”

“yes, but you could’ve died.” he regretted enhancing the word as soon as he spoke it. had he said too much? gone too far? he saw you shift your focus from the stars to his face, confusion written all over it. he didn’t look away, though, as embarrassing as it was for him.

“i thought you didn’t like me,” you remarked. loki scoffed and rolled his eyes before returning them toward you. “this has nothing to do with liking you, human.”

you chuckled at this, the rumbling of your chest sending another low shot of pain. “then what does it have to do with?”

he turned away and focused on your tiny bookshelf in the corner of your dorm instead. “taking care of you,” he answered faintly. at this, you’re features relaxed. the smallest smile began to tug at your lips, eyes beginning to sparkle with some sort of affection towards the god.

“ah, so you like me.” 

loki laughed lightly at your reply, but mostly to hide the nervousness his voice might convey if he spoke. he found it stunning; how you effortlessly made him feel worthy of kinship. another, shorter, ripple of silence took over, but you were the one to break it this time. 

“can you take care of me?” the words hit him like a punch in the stomach, and almost instantly his mind started running wild once more. every phrase that appeared to be coherent was not anymore. he looked at you, thinking about how innocently you had voiced your words, how genuine you felt them. 

“loki?”

“hm?” he pretended not to have heard you, pretended to be lost in some other thought that wasn’t you. 

“can you stay here tonight?” 

never in his life did loki imagine he’d be watching over an injured midgardian. he also never imagined for them to be you. “of course, i don’t mind,” he swiftly responded. he mentally scolded himself for answering so fast and at how needy he probably sounded. nevertheless, any thought of embarrassment disappeared from his mind when you wholeheartedly smiled at him. you thanked him, and let your eyes close naturally. your head had relaxed completely against the pillow and your arms were entangled in the fuzzy blanket. you spoke, for one last time that night, and groggily whimpered, “g’night, loki.”

for the third time, loki was studying yet another one of your most vulnerable forms. it left him at ease knowing that nothing could ever harm you as long as he was there. and he was starting to realize in much greater depth, that there was nothing in this broken world that he wouldn’t do for you. to make you happy; to keep you safe. when he finally replied, it was mainly for him to hear it only.

“g’night, (y/n).”