#i deeply fucking loathe everything about my body and i don’t think anything i could ever do would change that

[inwhatgalaxy]

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[thedickgraysons]

acotar tag game!

thank you for the tags @mathiwrites and @fourteentrout ! this was really fun to do, i'm always looking for an excuse to yap about my opinions

Who's your favourite ACOTAR character?

It’s definitely a tie between Lucien and Nesta! I’ve been a ride or die for Lucien since the first book, because I love me a charismatic red head, but I tend to be more vocal about my love for Nes.

Who's your least favourite character?

Oof, it would have to be Amren. I just don’t think she really adds anything to the story beyond existing to be snarky and drop lore when SJM writes herself into a corner. Definitely a character that would have had more impact if she would have stayed dead.

Say something nice about your least favourite character.

Her concept is very interesting! A creature that is not a faerie who was forced to inhabit the body of one. Who had greater abilities than anyone could dream, her only connection to the creature she was, only to lose them all at the cost of her living. Psychologically that is so cool, I would love to read more about what it meant for her mental state in the aftermath.

Who's your favourite High Lord? (If you picked one for your fav character, then who's your second fav!)

Tarquin! When he was introduced, he just instantly stole the show for me. I loved how gentle he was with Feyre, his kindness and confidence in his goals to unite lesser and high fae, and how passionate he got when confronting the Night Court.

Favourite MINOR character?

Remember the mortal that Feyre, Elain, Azriel, and Tamlin saved? Briar? Yeah, her. I’m obsessed with her story. A woman who was essentially groomed into praising the fae, learning first hand how awful they could be, and then going off to live with them in her lowest? I need more of her. I want to see how she develops. I hope she’s got a story in the future, because some main players don’t even have a name but she does! I also fuck with Jurian but I don't think he's really a minor character.

Favourite ship? (Crackships included!)

Oh there’s just so many, I can’t keep up. I think my top three, however, would be Azris, Neris, and a secret third crackship that I cooked up, Eris x Azriel x Gwyn. I call them Azrisyn in my head. I’m working on a fic. It’s a whole thing. I think I just really like shipping people with Eris.

Favourite court and why?

Spring! I love the aesthetic and how deeply magical everything was. It truly was like entering a new realm, with a new creature and magical adventure at every turn. I'm also a Winter and Autumn enjoyer.

Make up a brand new court RIGHT NOW, NO PREP JUST VIBES.

OH UHMM The Under Court. Just under the surface of Prythian, in a sprawling maze of tunnels and caverns, is a city carved of glowing stone and glistening gems. Because of the sheer size, this Court is divided into four sections, with each of these sections being overseen by a Stewart, who report directly to a (gasp) High Lady. They're called the High Council. Now I want to write this.

What relationship would you have wanted to see more of in the books?

Emerie and Azriel. Azriel has such an intense loathing for his people that it greatly effects his own view of himself. I want his arc to include him learning more about his culture, and overcoming that internalized bigotry. I want him to look into the face of someone who has been just as brutalized by the Illyrians as he has and realize that they are a people who need help out of the cycle of violence.

What's your unpopular opinion?

All of them, but my most unpopular one is probably that Cassian's wings should have stayed shredded. It made no sense for them to heal, and it would have added more to the story and his character (ie having a bridge to Nesta) to have him stay disabled.

What's your favourite headcanon/fan canon?

I love thinking about the faeries being more magical! I have a whole thread of eldritch horror-style High Lords and I think about it often. A less intense headcanon I have is that Eris has a gap in his front teeth and Gwyn has glowing freckles because I think its cute.

If you were swept away to Prythian, what's ONE thing you would want to do?

I’m shooting my shot with Lucien, so write that down. I also want to do the Winter Solstice in the Winter Court, because I feel like that would be so much fun. And then I’m moving to Dawn because I do not think I am surviving literally anywhere else. If the climates didn't kill me, the politics would.

If you could have ONE faerie ability seen in the books, which would it be?

If Helion's spell casting and cleaving don't count as one ability, then probably shapeshifting.

again, i love doing tag games so thank you for letting me! i cannot for the life of me think of who else to tag so uhm @ennawrite @wingsdippedingold @christeak and anyone else who wants to tap in?

[windrunnered]

please tell me your deku hcs omg. whichever your favorites are

cracks knuckles YES CHEF i think deku absolutely loathes the way the professional industry functions. i’ve written about it in less of a meta way and more of a narrative way here. (and i have a fic about it. (incomplete)) i think the way it’s shown to basically monetize saving lives and show that the professional industry (see: hawks and his infiltration) and more about just being showy, big, cool, better, and not anything about justice would rattle deku thoroughly. i also think he dislikes hawks thoroughly, but that’s another horseshoe in another stable

i’ve written, but have since scrubbed any remnant of that blog off tumblr, that deku has some rabid ocd symptoms if not ocd itself. we’ve all seen that he’s obsessive, but i think that this moral thing he has going on (i have to save them, it’s my fault if i can’t save them, you have no choice but to be saved by me) with his savior complex is really interesting and i don’t think it’s normal. i think it’s most interesting when compared against shigaraki, who most definitely does not want to be saved anymore, and deku just does not care. i think i have written some aspects of him having tics before, if i could find them.

i have complicated feelings about the way that the lines in the sand are drawn between heroes and villains, intentionally honed in on by actions done by endeavor and stain for example, but i think deku also hones in on it. especially as an adult, especially after the war, especially in any au where he becomes a professional before getting put in situations like he does in canon. i think he is not immune to propaganda. i think he would really like overhaul if overhaul got a hold of him. i think he would actively advocate for toga’s rehabilitation, but wouldn’t be able to save dabi. i don’t think he hates endeavor for similar reasons that todoroki doesn’t hate endeavor. because people grow. and it’s different to see the dark in one’s self and turn away than to never turn one’s eye inward and ignore the potential of one’s own darkness.

i don’t think deku is all that different from a nomu and i think that probably fucks him up as an adult. being stuffed full of 8 quirks when your body isn’t even made for one is probably a lot. i hate that we don’t see nomus anymore because what a fantastical psychological horror element in a world where endeavor’s mindset about quirk marriages exist, because you are basically doing the same thing in two different ways. lord knows touya suffers! LIGHTNING ROUND!!!! i’m obsessed with deku not liking hospitals, but having an eerie sense of comfort with them despite everything; i think deku is too familiar with the idea of martyrdom to ever fully reject it, even if he consciously denies it; i think deku is, like we’ve discussed actually tern, very autistic; i think he’s too obsessive for most people to want to date, and he personally views himself as too messed up for it; and finally, i think deku, deeply, deeply struggles with whether or not he is actually a hero. i think deku, the way i write deku at 18, does not see himself as one.

ask me about my obsessions.

[strawberrylucv]

hello!! i love your writing may i request scaramouche loathing but secretly loving the reader then hate fucking the shit out of her because he doesn't wanna admit he likes her 😩😩

hello!! awww thank you so much!! i hope you like this :> !!

Scaramouche hates you but loves being inside of you.

words : 1,596

warnings: Scaramouche smut, choking, orgasm denial, spanking, degrading, being fucked dumb, afab reader. NSFW BELOW THE CUT

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You see, Scaramouche absolutely hated you. He hated everything about you, from the way you look to the way you think, he thought you were incredibly stupid. How you dress yourself is beyond disgusting. When you touched him, goosebumps topped his skin. It was that unbearable. He loathed how you would look at him, as if he and you were friends.

But then again, he hated himself for thinking like that because in reality, he adored you. He loves every single thing about you. He would never tell you that though, well maybe not yet. There was this one thing in particular that he loved about you. That was how you would scream his name when he fucked you hard.

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You always thought the Sixth Fatui Harbinger hated you. Every time he was in your vision he would always seem to talk about anything negative. Whether it be a snarky comment about your appearance or whatever it was you said that day, you tried to avoid him the best you could. After all, bumping into him would always manage to ruin your day.

Yet here you are, being played with by Scaramouche. He's the one fingering you right now and causing you to almost orgasm every time his fingers curl in that spot but he kept denying it in the end. "What a whore." He says as he puts your leg over his shoulder allowing him more access to reach the parts inside of you that made you whimper and moan even more, which only added to his ego. "Only a cunt like yours could be tightening up like this." You lost count on how many orgasms you lost that night.

It was so sudden, you were just walking back home from work and as always, Scaramouche bumps into you. "Oh, it's you. Disgusting, scum like you should never bump into someone like me." A sharp comment leaves his mouth. "Hey, I'm talking to you. Ugh, what do I know. Your brain is probably not even capable of replying to me." He brushes off his shoulder as if your touch was like garbage. You just clench your jaw and stride trying to ignore him. He questioned why you wouldn't say your usual remarks, following you trying to ask what's wrong with you. As you see your home nearby, you stop your tracks causing Scaramouche to stop as well. You walked towards him and shouted, "What the hell is wrong with you?" He was taken aback since you've never shouted. All you ever wanted to do was be friends with him yet he treated you like trash and you were so tired of it.

"I'm so fucking done with you trying to bully me every-fucking-day!"

"And? What're you gonna do about it?" He replies with a very prideful face, he wasn't affected by any of the words you've said.

"I'm-I'm gonna-" You tried to think of a comeback and what you thought of was 'I bet he'll get super flustered if I kiss him'.

You grabbed his top and pulled him closer to you and put your lips on him. You proved yourself right when right after you pulled away from him, he was unusually silent. This was unlike him, and it brought a smirk to your face.

"Was that your first kiss, Balladeer?" You mocked and let out a laugh as you watch him stand there, his eyes still wide from the shock and confusion of it all happening.

After you are done laughing, you see Scaramouche walking towards you with a furious face. You raise your chin up to indicate that you weren't afraid. But he didn't raise his fist, instead he pulled you close and placed a kiss on your lips inserting a tongue in.

You don't know why but you melt from the kiss, legs giving out, hands shaking from the sudden action. When he parted his lips from you a string of saliva connected from the both of you. His hands cupping your cheek as you try to catch your breath.

"What a bad girl, trying to provoke me?" He grabs your wrist and brings you to the front of your house.

"Open it." He commands you. You fumble trying to get your keys, his eyes glued to you. You felt his presence behind you and you swore you could feel his breathe. Your nervousness got the better of you as you found yourself failing to simply place the key into the lock of your door. It seemed he picked up on your failed attempts and to your surprise, he placed his hand on yours. “Like this,” He says as he guides your hand to insert the key and twist it, hearing a soft click afterwards. When you enter your house, Scaramouche follows, and as you close the door, he immediately pins you to the wall.

Passionately kissing you, his tongue twirling in your mouth, you let a moan escape from your mouth and this made him so fucking horny. You lead him to your bed, not taking a break from his kisses. His hand travels downwards to feel your wet pussy. He removes your panties and it was then that the situation you were in dawned upon you. In your sudden realization, you push him just a bit to catch your breath. What were you doing with the man you loathed? And what was he doing with you? He hated you, but why is he beside you right now, looking about ready to fuck you with his fingers?

Before you could question anything, he inserts his two digits making you moan out his name, causing him to get more hard. When you pushed him, he went down on you, licking your clit and fingering you hard. You couldn't control your moans and the whole room was filled with your excessive noise. "Stop-Sto-Ah!~" You feel the knot on your stomach about to release, and it was then he decided to stop what he was doing, causing you to lose the feeling. "Why?" You whimper out.

“Disobedient girls deserve a punishment." He looks up from where he was and his eyes meet yours. The flushed look on your face accompanied by your glossy eyes and heavy pants was euphoric. He was addicted. And with that, he began to do exactly what he knew would get you to be more vocal; he began to eat you out once more. Your legs leaving his shoulder, thrashing around so much that he had to hold you down again so that you could stop. You could feel the same knot again, you begged him to let you come but as you almost feel the release, he stops again causing you to cry. "The only place you’ll be coming tonight is on my dick, you fucking slut." He flips you around and pulls your body closer to him, aligning his dick to your entrance. He teases your hole with his tip and you get restless, "Ugh, please just get on-" You say but stops as he inserts his whole dick into you. "Why are you so fucking disobedient to me?" He raises his hand and brings it down to smack your ass making you whimper at the sudden contact, but you couldn’t deny that this made your pussy throb, and this didn’t go unnoticed.

He takes notice of this and does one, two, three slaps on your ass. He was also so deep in you. Your walls clenching on him causing him to groan. He sucks your nape and the side of your neck, leaving marks on your skin. After he was done with your ass, his hands climb up to play with your breasts, flicking and pinching your nipples while he thrusts into you more deeply. His hands wandered off to your neck, gripping it tightly, he loved how you were feeling pleasure from this. Feeling the familiar knot in you again, you cried to him begging to let you come. He's so deep inside of you, you could feel him hitting your favorite spot. You might lose your voice from all the moans you've been making. He pulls your face and inserts his tongue once again in your mouth,

"Who do you fucking belong to, Y/N?” His voice was so deep, and when he didn’t hear a reply, he pounded into you deeply once more, groaning from how tight you are. “Tell me.”

"Fuck!” You exclaimed. You couldn’t think straight anymore, and you only had one thought in your mind. “I only belong to you! I love being fucked by you. Only you can make me feel this good." You cry, you've been wanting to orgasm all night but he kept denying it.

"Come for me, Y/N."

With his permission, you came, clenching around his cock and he followed right after. He pulls out and cums on your ass. Both of you try to catch your breath. You flipped yourself over so that you were now facing him, he was still so hard. You go down on him and lick his throbbing cock. He grabs your hair and says,

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Please give me more...I want to feel good again,” You plead. “Make me your cumslut, use me please." You reply right after you suck on his dick.

"Then spread your pussy for me."

You obeyed. He knew that this night was the only night he can verbally confess that he actually loves you, but maybe for tonight he'll just fuck you stupid. Someday he'll tell you how he truly feels, Someday.

[tojigasm]

You're Rich And I'm Wishing You Could Be My Master, Yum

Authors Note: This is the first part of my collab series with @tsundere-cherry-girl I'm sorry this took me so long to get out as I really was excited for this piece and wanted to ensure it was perfect before sharing it with you all! I will now be working on requests! enjoy our dilf king Toji, blessup.

* cw : 18+ minors dni, Daddy kink, age gap, and anxiety attacks

Word count: 14.7k

College wasn't something you enjoyed, in fact you loathed it. There was something about autumn winds and winter snow storms that no longer brought along the warm fuzzy feeling that they would have when you were younger. Now, the snow storm that had passed through overnight only reminded you of how far you were going to have to walk to your next class in the freezing cold.

You pulled your coat closer to your body, the cream corduroy acting as a soft barrier against the freezing air. Boots shuffling through the layered snow as you made your way through the peninsula of covered sidewalk, dead leaves that had fallen to the snow being kicked up; rising to the air quickly before falling onto the ice again.

Despite the fact that throughout your childhood you dreamed of college - a way to escape the bouts of teenage immaturity and transition to adulthood - a couple of years to have to yourself. But you couldn't help but be fucking irritated by the constant parties and think-with-their-dick boys who approached you after class, pawing at you and calling you sweet names with their whiny voices that pricked your ears like an icepick.

Outside of the constant nagging from boys, you did have your friends: friends that would call you in the middle of the night to ask if you wanted to go to the dorm next to yours and go party, friends that slipped you the answers to your History teacher’s exam because Mr. Yaga was a fucker who didn’t care if you passed or failed.

Outside of school ruining your life, you had your friends and your friend group was interesting to say the least: there was Megumi, your best friend, who would approach every situation with the least amount of worry - no matter how unprepared he might be and always end up fine in the end. Then there was Itadori, who was late to every single class, a head full of dishelved hair that would shake in shame as your professor scolded him for the upteenth time that week. And then there was Nobara, who was your roommate but spent more time out with at parties than actually in the dorm. Thankfully, all four of you had become close throughout the first hellish year of college, being there for one another when need be.

It was finals week, your schedule was filled to the brim with studying and back to back classes that would determine your grades for the end of the semester. Long nights in the main library and in your dorm resulted in early coffees and shaking fingers as you worked out the answers to your exams.

You hurried to your last class, holding your textbooks and folders closer to your chest, boots skipping up the steps to the door, black letters on the textured glass read ‘Professor Nanami’.

Once inside, you hurried to your seat next to Megumi who was rereading some of his notes, his head turning to you when you sat down and began to pull out your notes randomly.

“Are you serious?” Megumi asked, deadpanning at your mess of scrambled notes and chicken scratched papers.

You gave him a sheepish smile before pointing a finger at him, “Hey! I made it before Itadori, and that’s saying something!”

Megumi chuckled lightly and went back to his notes, highlighting a few things “So… have you decided whether or not you're gonna stay at my place for winter break?”

Your eyes widened. Shit! you forgot about that!

“Uhm… are you sure you’re okay with me coming, I don’t wanna feel like I’m intruding on your break, let alone your family.” You clicked your pen nervously and bit the plush of your bottom lip.

Megumi gave a fake look of shock “No, you’re all good, I want you to come!” he reassured and then went back to writing.

You thought it over for a second, eyes dashing from the scattered and scribbled papers on the table and back to Megumi “Then I’ll go, it sounds exciting!” You smiled widely and Megumi nodded, opening his mouth to say something when he was interrupted by your professor, clapping loudly from the desk at the bottom of the auditorium.

“Alright, as you all know this is your final for the semester, determining whether or not you’ll pass my class.” he took a moment to shuffle the stack of papers, collecting them together. “Do your best, and once you’re finished, you’re free to go.”

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves.

Your professor walked up and down the carpeted steps, placing blank tests down and continuing down the aisle to the next row of students.

Your palms were clammy and your skin pricked with beads of sweat, your turtleneck began to stick to your soft skin.

The atmosphere of the classroom did nothing to relieve your stress, the humming of the heater causing a persistent ache in your head, pulling at the strings of your mind as you tried to think over all the information you had spent the past week and full 12 hours reviewing. A blank test was placed on your desk and you inhaled deeply, looking over the first question and picking up your pencil before circling ‘A’.

Walking out the door and into the snow, books held to your chest, you turned to Megumi before heading in the direction of your dorm.

“So what time are you planning on leaving?” You asked, jutting your hip out to stand more comfortably, snow crunching under your heavy fur boots.

Megumi always stood so perfectly still, even when talking - when you had first became friends it was off putting, making you think he was uncomfortable in your presence, only when the two of you became closer - basically best friends, did u realize that Megumi did some pretty odd things, that being one of them.

“I was gonna head up around like eightish maybe?” Megumi looked up to the sky as though he were in deep thought,” I can drive us both if you want.” He offered, hand gesturing to you.

You shook your head and placed a mittened hand out to stop him, “No, it’s okay, you can just drop by my dorm once you’re ready and I can follow you.” You smiled.

Megumi nodded and then looked away towards his dorm.

“Alright, well, make sure you pack for at least a week and half’s stay, wouldn’t want you to not have something to wear.” he joked, kicking the ground a bit, dragging his shoes through the snow aimlessly as if he were drawing something.

You shook your head and laughed, “I will,” you sighed deeply and clicked your tongue, your shoulders falling gently, “well, I gotta get going, I’ll see you at eight then?” you began to walk backwards, the snow squealing under your boots.

“On the dot.” Megumi concluded and turned, walking through the deep snow on his way back to his dorm.

The next morning when you woke you felt refreshed, your face felt soft and your muscles were relaxed, little to no cramps as the contrast to how the week of finals had treated your body - the overwhelming stress not giving you a minute to relax.

You took a shower and got dressed, putting on your favorite fur jacket over a hoodie along with a pair of baggy jeans. You took one final look in the mirror before checking your suitcase once more, making sure you had everything packed.

Toothbrush, check. Hairbrush, check. Tampons, check. Phone charger, check…

You continued down the checklist of items, failing to hear Nobara enter the room. She had a coffee and muffin in one hand and her purple-bubble thick cased phone in the other.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” she quirked an eyebrow, clearly wanting you to elaborate on where you were going. Nobara was always like that, she felt like more of an aunt at times than an actual friend.

You turned your head to look at her, “Don’t get too excited now, I’ll be back when school starts up again.” You smiled and turned back to your open bag.

Nobara didn't say anything, opting to take a small bite out of the muffin and a sip from the straw of her drink before swallowing loudly.

“A-are you going to your parents place?” She still stood in the hallway, leaned against the wall, she bent over a tad as she continued to look at you, eyebrow pulled into a tight arch.

You stopped zipping your suitcase up to take a deep breath, voice becoming stuck in your throat and tears building up in your downcast eyes.

“N-no, uhm actually,” You cleared your throat, shaking your head slightly, “I’m actually going out of town to stay with Megumi, he invited me to stay with his family for break.” you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and placed it onto the ground, pulling the handle all the way up.

“Hey, you okay?” Nobara asked, walking up to you and chucking her phone onto her bed, the case causing the phone to bounce in the process.

You nodded and smiled, you knew she was looking out for you, aware of the issues you’d had with your father in the past, but that didn’t make the mere thought of your relationship with your father any easier to think about.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just nervous.” You gave a weak smile and grabbed your phone from your nightstand, slipping it into your coat pocket.

“Awh, you’ll have tons of fun, I’m sure Megumi will do a great job making you feel right at home!” She smiled and her hair shook as her head lifted in excitement.

You nodded again and smiled at her warmly, reaching to grab the handle of your bag, “Alright, well, I’m off - I’ll see you again soon.”

Nobara nodded and followed you out of the doorway. The two of you said your goodbyes and you made your way down the hall, fur boots clumping on the carpeted ground.

“Wait!” Nobara’s voice stopped you, making you turn to look at her, one hand in your coat pocket.

“What’s up?” You asked.

“You got everything? Like, all your girl stuff and everything?” she kept a hand on the door handle, the other on the wall.

You smiled at her and nodded, “Yeah, I've got everything.” You then waved to her and continued to make your way to the elevator.

Once outside you shivered as the wind hit your face, biting your skin as you made your way down the snow covered steps and onto the pavement. Megumi was waiting at the curb, leaning against his black Mercedes, dressed in a Louis Vuitton coat, arms crossed and looking to the side.

You always wondered where he got the money for all of the expensive things he bought: his cars, his shoes - being his best friend, you didn't feel comfortable asking, but now that you were being introduced to his family, you realized that the possibility of his family being just that rich never actually occurred to you.

“Hey Gumi!” You waved, pulling your suitcase through the snow behind you.

“Hey,” He turned to you and smiled, “You need help taking that to your car?” he asked, flipping his keys absentmindedly

“No, I'm all good, you wanna just meet me in the parking lot?” you gestured to the lot at the side of your dorm.

“Yeah sure.”

The ride to the cabin was fairly smooth, most of it being a fast trip on the freeway until you followed Megumi’s black Mercedes down an off ramp and into a new town.

You took the time at each stop light to look around, making note of the winter decorations parading the streets. The clouds covering the sky gave the town’s look a picturesque holiday aura to it.

Music played through your speakers as you followed Megumi throughout the town, the road soon became flat and desolate for a few miles before his car came to the start of a small trail.

The tires of your car grumbled over the gravel, rocking your car side to side as you drove down the pine covered road. The trees created an atmosphere that felt almost - in no other words to describe it - home.

You could see mountains to the left of you, sun glittering against the snow, you could smell the pine wafting through the ventilation of your car, relaxing your nerves and washing over your senses greedily.

The road seemed to go on forever, not that you were complaining, the surrounding forest made you feel as though you were stuck in a perfect place in time, nature in its purest form, no city lights, no roads, no cars, just the soothing smell of pine and the occasional cry from a bird.

Megumi’s car took a right and suddenly the ground became smoother, the rocks becoming a makeshift driveway where a Black Ford F150 was parked next to a tan Rolls Royce in front of cobblestone steps that lead up to the chestnut red door of the prodigious house you assumed was the “cabin” Megumi had told you about. The two of you obviously had different ideas of what a “cabin” was. This was a multi million dollar house at least, you wouldn't be surprised if his parents owned the place...scratch that. They definitely owned it.

Megumi parked his car next to the tan Rolls Royce and stepped out, walking over to your car. You rolled your window down to which he bent over and leaned his crossed arms against it, ducking his head to look at you.

“You can park next to my dad’s truck if you want.” He tilted his head and threw his thumb back to point at the giant F150.

“Okay, thankyou.” you let Megumi step back and rolled up your window before pulling into the parking spot.

You stepped out and went to the backseat of your car, pulling out your bag and your blanket before rounding the car to where Megumi was still removing his bags, two Louis Vuitton duffle bags were sat on the sanded down gravel, dirt already seeping into the leather and fabric.

“Your family knows I'm coming… right?” You chuckled nervously, watching Megumi continue to sift through the many expensive bags in his trunk.

“Of course, I’ve told them all about you. Trust me, they’ll adore you.”

You almost cried at that. What had Megumi told them? what if he was lying and they actually were just allowing you to stay out of pity, what if Megumi had actually told them something terrible about you and you weren’t even there to defend yourself.

You felt bad, knowing Megumi would never talk so horibily about you; The two of you were best friends. You just still couldn't help the metaphorical vomit that filled your brain to it’s brim, threatening to spill from your lips until you convinced Megumi you wanted to go home, spilled over until the words became tears because you couldn’t even fathom the idea of Megumi’s family not liking you.

“Are you ready to go?” Megumi stood with two duffle bags in one hand and another thrown over his shoulder.

Nodding, you let Megumi pass you and followed him up to the front of the red painted door. The wood had been furnished and was well kept, obviously polished regularly.

Megumi raised his fist and knocked on the peppermint red wood, a soft rapping filling your ears.

The door opened to reveal a young woman in red bottom snake heels and a cream sweater, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail.

“Hi ‘Gumi!” She smiled happily, her eyes squeezing shut as her arms crushed him in a tight hug before parting and looking him up and down. “My goodness, you’re so much taller than last time I saw you.” Megumi grumbled and she giggled, petting his shoulder lightly.

Suddenly she turned to you, “Oh hi! You must be y/n, Megumi has told me all about you.” She went to grab your mitten covered hands in her own, “Please come in, you must be freezing.” She stepped to the side and placed a hand on your back to guide you inside.

The three of you walked down the wood paneled hall, the walls were decorated with wreaths and cute accessories for the holidays.

“My name is Tsumiki by the way.” She smiled at you again, leading you into the living room, her heels clicking against the floor.

Once you entered the living room you immediately felt out of place - well, more than you felt already, if even possible; a flat screen TV sat was built into the flat wooden wall, a huge leather couch was placed in the middle of the room, double doors leading to a balcony were opened, the sound of birds and creaking wood echoing throughout the home.

The smell of sugar made you turn your head in the direction of what you assumed was the kitchen, the heaviness of it making you close your eyes and hum.

Tsumiki giggled, “I’m making a pie, it should be done before dinner if you two wanna go get settled down and unpack.”

Megumi nodded and took your arm in his hand, pulling you down the next hallway as you said a quick “Thankyou!” before you were out of range.

Megumi pulled you along to a crème covered carpet staircase, climbing the steps with one hand on the rail and the other still on your arm.

Once you made it upstairs, you came into another hallway; a chandelier illuminating the white thicket walls. Four doors were on either side of the hall leading to two large pearl French doors that sat at the very end.

“My dad’s room is the room at the end, Tsumiki sleeps in the room closest to the bathroom ‘cus she always has to pee, I usually take the room farthest from my dad’s just ‘cus.” Megumi informed you. You nodded at his words before it dawned on you that you would be the one sleeping closest to his dad - someone who you had yet to meet and someone who quite frankly, intimidated you.

“You can take the room I usually sleep in if you want.” Megumi tilted his head to see your nervous expression.

“No!” You cleared your throat, “It’s- it’s just, it doesn’t really matter to me, I’m fine either way.”

“M’kay.” Megumi walked to his door and opened it, standing outside until you entered your own, “I’ll get you when dinner’s ready.”

You nodded and walked into the bedroom, met with a king sized bed and glass panel door that led to a balcony. The walls were a grey color, decorated with simple objects and pictures of the surrounding mountains. The room smelled of lavender and vanilla, painting a clear picture of the woodland surrounding you.

Placing your suitcase onto the bed you began unpack; putting your folded clothes into the auburn dresser and closet, placing your shoes at the bottom of the wardrobe. Deciding to keep your toiletries in your room, you put them on the vanity seat beside the glass sliding door.

Once you had everything put away you grabbed your phone and sent a quick text to Nobara, informing her you’d made it, to which she replied with a ‘Good to hear, can’t wait for you to come back, miss you already! xoxo’

You smiled and put your phone down, getting ready to move some things around when a knock came from your door. You opened the heavy door to come face to face with Megumi who had changed into a navy sweatshirt.

“Dinner’s ready.” he informed you and you smiled, nodding as you followed him down the staircase and back through the hallways into the dining room. The walls were plastered with gold and black trim, decorating the thicket walls; a candled chandelier illuminated the room in a calm light.

“Hi there!” Tsumiki waved as she placed a basket of bread rolls onto the table, “you can sit wherever you’d like.” You took a seat next to Megumi, the cushioned chairs adding a soft touch to your nervousness.

As Tsumiki sat down she opened her mouth to ask a question when the sound of a door shutting made you jump, looking towards the hallway to see a tall raven haired man round the corner, dressed in tightly fit black shirt and baggy jeans, his timbs pounding the polished floors.

“What’s for dinner?” His gruff voice immediately made your legs tense. It screamed authority and discipline - the voice of a parent, a father who was stern but rewarded good behavior. The man took a seat at the end of the table and looked at you, his eyebrow raising.

“Who’s this?” he didn't speak to you, opting to talk to his son.

Megumi took a bite of his food and looked at his father, rolling his eyes, “Her name is y/n, I told you she was coming.”

You felt almost helpless not being able to speak for yourself in front of the man of the house. You couldn't deny Megumi’s father was attractive, a part of you embarrassed that you couldn't even make eye contact with the man, afraid that if you did, he’d surely know you were crushing like a schoolgirl on the father of your best friend.

“Oh yeah, nice to meet you, y/n.” He nodded in acknowledgment and began eating.

Tsumiki made small talk, making sure to involve you in all the conversations: asking about your school work, which major you were studying, your plans for the future.

You answered each honestly, explaining why you were interested in your major, why you chose the same college Megumi attended and how you planned to succeed in the workplace you were working towards being in.

Toji had leaned back in his chair at some point, his arms folded beneath his head as he listened to you ramble on about how important school was and your eagerness to be introduced into an industry such as the one you were interested in. It was cute.

Tsumiki listened attentively, asking questions and nodding her head in agreeance whenever you said something. “That's really cool, y/n, I believe you’d be a good addition to any team that hired you, you’re a smart girl and a hardworking one at that.” Tsumiki interrupted herself to gasp lightly, turning to her father. “Come to think of it, dad, didn’t you do some work in that major?” she swallowed, “I could’ve sworn I remember you talking about it.”

You looked to Toji, only to meet his eyes and immediately look at your lap; he looked almost bored - eyes lidded and plump lips resting against each other, the pinkness of them only becoming a darker color, your eyes traced of the scar that was ingrained in his skin.

Toji laughed at your quick shift of focus, taking a hand out from behind his head to scratch at his chest, the fabric of his shirt sliding over his pecs as he did so. “It’s okay, kid. You can look at me - I don't bite.” you gulped at that, if there was any questioning of your attraction to the man, the way his biceps bulged at his shirt as he spoke assured that you were swooning for the older man.

“But, Yeah, I did.” He said flatley, watching you with squinted eyes. There was a moment of silence before Toji stuck his tongue into his cheek and looked down at his finished plate before moving his hands back down to the table resting his elbows against the cotton of the tablecloth.

“Gojou still working there?” He asked, reaching towards the glass cup of toothpicks and inserting one between his teeth.

You gulped sighly and nodded “Y-yeah, he is.” You felt as though you needed to speak with your head down - a primal dominance encouraging you to not make eye contact out of respect, his blue eyes pierced your own as he brought his tongue out to lick the scar on his lip.

You could’ve sworn you died right there and then; something about the oh-so-innocent yet so aware action he pulled by simply flicking his soft tongue along the line of the dark scar made your knees weak, your thighs squeezing together, your shoes toeing at each other nervously.

“He’s a dick.” Toji stated.

“Yeah-” you laughed a bit. “Yeah, he is.”

Once dinner was finished and you and Tsumiki had cleaned the china plates until your fingers pruned, scrubbing the soft sponge across the glass plates gently. When the plates were all put away, you fled to your room.

You had spent what had been at least thirty minutes with your soft hand between your legs, rubbing furiously at your clit, replaying the image of Toji sliding his tongue over the dark line of his scar - pretending it was your plush legs he was kissing instead.

A part of you wished he could hear you through the smokey colored walls, entertaining the idea that he was just as perverted as you, jacking himself off to your soft moans and imagining that he too wished he was with you too. The thoughts themselves brought you to an orgasm; pushing a satin pillow onto your face, you moaned, deep and shaikly, feeling your stomach tighten.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming.” You wined, rubbing circles around the small bundle of nerves until your legs tensed and chills ran down your spine when your orgasm washed over you.

You pulled the pillow off your face to inhale deeply, pulling your fingers from between your legs, looking at your soaked fingers, embarrassment flooding your body as you stared at the proof of how long you had been jacking it to your best friend's dad.

A wash of realization hit your brain when you remembered where you were, whose house you were in and who was sleeping in the rooms on either side of you.

Oh god. You slapped your hand to your forehead, immiedialtey praying to god that your wishes for Toji to hear your soft moans and supple sighs hadn’t been answered.

Getting out of the tall bed, your feet hit the cold floor and you shivered, padding your way to the door of your room, you stepped out and made your way into the bathroom across the hall.

Once inside, you washed your hands, lathering a generous amount of foamed soap that read ‘Winter Candy Apple’ and was wrapped in a sparkly red plastic that slid against your fingers as you sat the bottle back down onto the granite countertop.

Toji was laid back against the expensive furs of his queen bed, fisting his cock furiously to the sound of your moans, sweat beading in small drops on his firm chest.

“Gah -fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” he threw his head back, his hair sprawling behind his head and he hissed, cum spurting onto his hand and abdomen.

“Ohhhh shiiit.” he groaned, voice shaky.

Toji pnated in the mess of blankets and crumpled satin sheets, staring up at the cream colored ceiling, chest heaving.

His blue eyes tracing the iron lines of the gray barn liam chandelier, Toji felt dirty, jerking his dick to his son's best friend. He scoffed, “what the hell?” Toji took another shaky breath and ran his hands over his face before sitting up and pulling his boxers up over his waist and walking into his adjoined bathroom.

The fluorescent lights created a flaxen glow against the white walls and black mineral countertop. Grabbing a small towel from beneath the counter he placed it under the sink’s faucet and wiped down his abdomen, sighing as he chucked the soiled towel into the hamper and walking back into his bedroom.

Toji walked to his dresser and pulled out a white tshirt before heading to the door that connected his bedroom to the hallway.

Walking out into the hall Toji scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the carpeted floor, his eyes tired and adjusting to the dark of the hallway when suddenly something - someone bumped into his chest making him reach his hands out to steady the person he hit.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You whisper yelled and gripped onto his forearms.

Toji squinted to see your features outlined in the dark, “Oh, hey kid, what’re you doin’ up?” He took his hands off your shoulders and yawned dramatically, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

“Sorry, I just needed to use the restroom.” you told him, eyes meeting his sapphire ones.

He nodded, “You wanna come downstairs? I’m gonna get some coffee.” Toji walked past you.

You listened to the stairs creak as he made his way down the steps, “yes!” you whispered yelled again, being met with a light chuckle from the bottom of the steps.

Following Toji throughout the massive cabin you reached the kitchen where Toji had you sit at the bar. He stood at the opposite side of the island, pouring a pot that had been put out by Tsumiki earlier than night, aware of her father’s habit to wake up and come to the kitchen searching for something to drink and calm his nerves.

Your eyes followed Toji’s movements, his arms flexing as he placed the pot down and pulled out a packet of sugar, ripping the paper and pouring the bag into the cup before grabbing a spoon and mixing the drink together.

“You want something sweetie?” Toji placed the spoon into his mouth and looked up to meet your eyes.

Your face felt warm as you watched him gently suck on the spoon, “u-uhm, no, I’m okay, thank you.” You pull your knees up to your chest, resting your chin and stopping your knees.

Toji offered a slight ‘tch’ and walked towards the sliding glass door, pulling it open and stepping out onto the balcony, letting snow-chilled air fill the room.

You didn't know what to do, too nervous to ask if you could follow but too shy to stay behind and sit awkwardly until Megumi’s father decided to come back into the warmth of the cabin. Stepping off the bar stool you slipped on a pair of slippers you had left at the door and walked out onto the patio, making your way over to where Toji stood.

He was bent over the wooden terrace, leg crossed over another as he looked out at the moonlit forest. You walked up beside him and mimicked his position. He side eyed you and chuckled lightly, noticing the repeated movements of his own. He turned around and leaned his back against the terrace, wondering if you’d follow.

You stayed in Toji’s original position.

“It’s pretty right?” Toji stated, nodding his head towards the pine trees and snow covered ground.

You nodded and began to pick at the wood of the terrace, sniffling as the wind tickled goosebumps up your arms and legs. “It really is.”

Toji huffed in aggreence and turned back to lean on his forearms again, taking a sip of his coffee, the steam from the cup swirling in the air like a growing cloud of fire, eating away at the air in a grey mass.

Toji sensed your nervousness and laughed a bit before scooting closer to you and pointing towards a small tire swing, nearly covered completely by the snow, only a sliver of rusted rubber still visible. “When I was younger, around ten or eleven, I used to swing on that thing everytime my parents drove me up here, and broke my arm on it once too.” He laughed at the memory and took another sip.

You laughed and leaned over the ledge a tad as you tried to imagine Megumi’s father as anything but a father at sometime in his life. Fully believing that he’d been born a father and stayed that way for the past thirty-five years if he had told you that. Maybe he looked like Megumi… possibly Tsumiki, she has his nose-

“Megumi broke his arm on it too, I think it’s cursed.” He joked and you looked at him in question.

“Really? He never told me that.” you sounded disappointed, almost as if Megumi had hid something from you - logically, you knew he hadn’t but in the past thirty minutes, Toji had shared more memories of his own childhood with you than Megumi ever had in your three years of knowing him.

“Are you ready for ice skating tomorrow? There's a lake in the woods that we go down to every year.” he asked

You did remember Megumi mentioning a lake… now that you thought about it, you didn't have any skates.

“I don’t have any skates…”

“You can have a pair of Tsumiki’s, she’s got like six different colors.” He rolled his eyes at his daughter’s adoration for fancy colors and need for fashion.

You giggled at that to which Toji smiled. ‘I don't know how to skate either, haha.” you ran your hands up and down your arms trying to stay warm.

Toji lifted an eyebrow at that, adjusting to lean on his elbow that held the cup of now-cooled-down coffee. “You serious?” He took another sip.

You met his eyes for a split second before looking at the balcony terrace again, “Yeah.”

Toji gave a ‘hmph’ in surprise, tilting his head as he downed the rest of his coffee. “I’ll teach you.” he stated, giving you no room to refuse his offer.

“Okay.” you smiled.

The two of you entered the cabin a few minutes later and Toji sent you up to bed with a hug, following behind you as you made your way back up the stairs and into your room.

“Night, Mr. Fushiguro.” You stood in the doorway of your bedroom.

“Night, brat.” He smirked and waited for you to enter your room and shut the door before retreating to his own room and falling back onto the bed, eyes searching for something to focus on as he forced himself to sleep. His eyes decided on the iron of the chandelier again, tracing the intricate lines and candle holders as he fell asleep, the smell of your shampoo and memory of your moans filling his senses.

As you lay in bed, you stared at the ceiling; thinking of how you’d ask Tsumiki to borrow a pair of skis, what you’d wear, and how you’d have Megumi teach you how to ice skate without embarrassing yourself. Wait no. Toji was going to teach you. Your eyes slowly begin to close, your body sleep deprived and too exhausted from the long drive and late talk with Toji to question why he offered to teach you rather than have his son.

The next morning was far more relaxed than the evening before, you helped Tsumiki make breakfast, whisking eggs as Toji made his way into the kitchen.

“Well aren’t you two cute.” he teased and tousled his hair a bit.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, “It’s almost done if you wanna get Megumi.” You said, choosing to watch the basking of the eggs rather than make eye contact with the taller man.

Toji laughed and walking over to the coffee pot you had refilled, pouring himself a cup of it and adding a packet of sugar. He made his way over to the bar and sat on one of the stools, his chin resting in his palms as we watched the two of you work.

He felt like he had a family back. It was a horrible thing, truly, to seek comfort in the young girl who Megumi had introduced as his friend. But Toji wanted you, and whatever Toji wanted, Toji fucking got.

A plate was placed in front of him by a pair of small hands, he looked at you and smiled, placing a hand on your head and scratching your scalp as he tousled your hair “Thanks.”

You nodded and went back to the other pre-made plates. You placed another next to Toji for Megumi.

Toji internally groaned, he wanted you to sit next to him.

“I’ll go get Megumi.” You left the kitchen and Tsumiki siad a quick ‘Okay!’ before turning to her father who was devouring the food you’d cooked.

Toji could feel his daughter’s eyes on him, looking up from his meal to stare blankly “What?”

Tsumiki rolled her eyes and turned back to her own plate of sugar covered pancakes, decorated with strawberries and whip cream. “I see the way you look at her dad. She’s in college and you’ve barely known her for a whole day!” She exclaimed.

Toji simply shrugged his shoulders at her input and continued to eat, taking another bite of eggs, “You’re gonna give her a pair of skates for when we go to the lake today.”

Tsumiki nodded and picked up her plate, walking past him to sit at the table, placing a hand on his shoulder “Dad.” she pleaded

Toji lifted an eyebrow “I’m not gonna do anything.” He put his hands in mock defense to which Tsumiki gave a ‘really?’ look at and sighed, walking over to the table and taking a seat.

Only a minute later you came down with a sleepy Megumi following behind, rubbing his eyes and tripping over his feet. “Morning.” he said groggily, taking the seat next to his dad and digging into his breakfast.

Toji ruffled his pointed hair and laughed as the raven strands bent for half a second and then bounced back up into their original place.

You sat at the table with Tsumiki, watching the quiet scene unfold, smiling warmly at the interaction. The father-son interaction brought you to think of your own father, your thoughts scrambling to find a moment in your life where he was as soft with you as Toji was with his own children.

“You guys excited to go skating later?” Toji turned in his chair, looking at you Tsumiki.

You nodded, mouth full. Wiping your mouth you nodded again, “I am, Mr. Fushiguro. I’m very excited.”

Toji’s heart warmed at your tired voice, feeling a little guilty for keeping you up outside in the cold for as long as he did. He crossed his arms over the back of the stool and watched you eat, “I can take y/n in my truck if you two wanna take the Royce.” Toji stated more than asked.

Megumi shrugged at that, not really caring who he went with but still concerned about how you’d feel being all alone with his father, He was fine with driving with his sister but Megumi knew his dad’s truck had enough seats for all of you. “y/n are you okay with that?” Megumi turned to you.

You felt embarrassed as all eyes were on you, “I’m okay with that.” you smiled at Megumi, slowly turning your head towards Toji, reassuring him with a smile.

He smirked and stepped off the stool, stretching his arms over his shoulders, his shirt riding up past his navel. “Alright, I’m gonna go get dressed.” he made his way through the kitchen and into the hall before turning back and looking at you “y/n, wear something warm ‘mkay?” He said and walked off.

Tsumiki rolled her eyes at his request “Don’t mind him, it’s just his dad shit telling him to be all parental, wear whatever you want.” She said.

You smiled at her before dragging your finger through the leftover whip cream on your plate, bringing your finger to your lips and sucking on it gently. It felt nice to be dotted on, to be worried about, to be worried about by a father. As you made your way to your room and got dressed, pulling on a hooded mink fur jacket, like Toji told you to do; You twirled in your mirror, picking up one foot cutely, watching the strings of your furry moon boots dangle.

A knock came from your door before Megumi entered the room, dressed in a luxury white fur coat, the hem running to his jean clad knees. “You almost ready? Tsumiki put your skis in my dad’s truck already, she guessed your size.” you laughed at that.

“I’m sure they’ll fit.” you picked up your phone and slipped it into your pocket and followed Megumi down the carpet steps. Once outside you stepped onto the gravel and over to Toji’s truck where he stood, resting against the tailgate with his arms crossed; the denim of his jacket stretching over the bulkiness of his arms - drool pooling in your mouth at the sight.

“You ready kid?” Toji stepped out, timbs crunching the gravel beneath him.

You nodded and watched Megumi walk past you and open the door to Royce, “We’ll meet you there right?” he said, hand on the door. Toji gave a thumbs up before walking up to your side of the truck; Tsumiki pulled out beside him as he did so.

“Be careful on the road, dad, she doesn't need to be subjected to your psychopathic driving skills.” She narrowed her eyes only to soften them when she saw you, “Don’t worry, baby, I’m sure he’ll keep you safe - something about Tsumiki’s insignificant promise that her father would protect you made your knees weak - It’s only about a thirty minute drive, we can get lunch after too.” She then left, wheels rumbling over the gravel as the car rounded the corner; Leaving you and Toji alone.

“C’mere baby,” He motioned for you. You walked up to the passenger side, Toji standing with the door open, hand on his hip. “You ready?” you nodded and he placed his hands on your hips, your smaller ones grasping his forearms in shock, placing you in the seat he then squeezed your thigh gently, “Good girl.” he shut the door.

You were gonna die right then and there. Jesus Christ you were going to die and Toji-Fucking-Fushiguro and his deep voice and big hands were going to be the reason Megumi would find you dead in the passanger seat of his father’s car.

The sound of the driver’s side door opening made you turn your head, watching Toji step into the truck with ease and push the start button, the car rumbling as it turned on and warm air ran over your skin. The contrast between the cold air and the heated car made you shiver.

The ride was silent as the truck rocked back and forth over larger rocks in the road, Toji had some music playing at you watched the mountain range, making note of how it must've snowed last night as there was visibily more white frosted trees and the mountain seemed to hide all the dark toothpick looking trees from across the valley.

“When I was younger, my dad took me up here with my friends,” he paused as you turned to him, waiting for him to continue in complex adoreness. Toji felt his hands grip the leather wheel with his left hand, his right folding into a fist on the compartment piece in between the two of you; his mind begging him, demanding him to reach out to you and hold you, hold your thigh, your hands, anything to touch you.

He cleared his throat and continued “I took his pickup out to go get drinks with my friends and slid on black ice, we jumped out in time but the truck went down this lil’ valley, thought I was gonna die.”

You felt your shoulders release - aware that Toji had survived since he was literally driving you down the same road he nearly died on before you were even born. But a part of you made you relieved to know that he hadn’t slipped down the icy mountain and met an evil demise brought to him by the reigns of teenage boy stupidity.

“You were okay though right?” your eyes wide with worry

Toji laughed at your shocked expression, the thought that you asked if he was okay, the thought that you were worried about him made his heart swell. He loved the way you made him feel and simuloutansley hated it. Knowing you’d almost never reciprocate the same feelings he had.

“Yeah honey, I was okay.” He ruffled your hair teasingly before grabbing the back of your hood and pulling it up and over your head, covering your eyes.

“Hey!” You moved the hood from your head and hit his arm, he jumped back and put his hands up in mock defense, laughing heartily.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughed and turned back to the road.

You gave a ‘Hmph’, crossing your arms dramatically.

A hand was placed on your thigh gently, squeezing at the plush of your thigh through your pants. Turning your head you met his eyes, the car slowing down, his focus now on you. Toji shifted a small bit, moving closer to you, his grip on your thigh growing tighter.

The air suddenly seemed thinner, your lungs scrambling to find breath in such a quiet and intimate moment. Your best friend's father had his hand holding your thigh, your best friend’s hot, older dad had his giant, rough hand holding your thigh - holding you.

You exhaled shakily, almost embarrassed to meet his eyes.

“Hey” placing the hand that was on your thigh to your cheek, stroking your cheek gently.

“Hi” you whispered, toji smiled at your voice, god he was whipped and he’d only known you for seventeen hours.

Leaning in, he watched your plump lips part, his face was so close you could feel his breath on your skin. “You’re so pretty, baby.” he whispered, thumb coming up to rest on your bottom lip and pulling it downwards.

Heat went straight to your pussy, your thighs clenching together as toji brought his lips to your own. His hand went to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he ran his tongue over your teeth. You moaned into the kiss and brought a hand to his arm, rubbing his skin softly.

Toji groaned, pulling away from you and shifting the gear of the truck into park and reaching over you with both hands, cupping your face to his. Toji inhaled deeply through his nose, pulling apart to see a line of spit attaching your lips together.

“Fuck.” his eyes were lided and his lips were swollen and red “C’mere” he brought you into his lap himself, pushing the seat back so you’d have more room. Looking out the window you could see you were still on the trail, no other cars in sight. Your head was turned by Toji, grabbing your chin and leading you back to his lips.

Your lips met again, Toji’s hands coming to squeeze the flesh of your ass appreciatively. Moaning into the kiss you lowered your pelvis down to his prominent bulge, rutting against it gently. He hissed at the movement, breaking apart from you to look down between the two of you.

“Shiiit,” he sighed and went to run a hand through his hair, “can’t do that to me, I’m gotta fuck you, needa be inside you so bad baby.” placing his hand on the cup of your sex making you shiver.

“Toji please.” you closed your eyes, head tilting downwards slightly.

“Please what? C’mon use your words.” he smirked and ran his hands down the sides of your body, battered and roughed fingers caressing the soft-textured fur of your mink coat.

“Mhmm'' you whimpered, suddenly very aware of where you were and who you were with. Shying away, you backed away from him to rest on your thighs - still straddling Toji’s waist - you brought a finger to your lips, biting your soft skin and looking through the windows as if you were being watched. As if the trees and the birds and the deers and the clouds knew you were about to lose your virginity to your bestfriend’s fucking father.

“Hey, hey, what’s up munchkin?” Toji sat up, bringing you to his chest comfortingly - a parental instinct to protect - “m’ I movin’ too fast?” he asked, petting your head softly as you softly nodded into his chest.

“M’ sorry sweet girl'' Toji rubbed your back gently, letting you snuggle into his hold and hide yourself in the neck of his turtleneck, sniffling quietly. “Shh, no more tears, baby m sorry.” he cooed. The two of you sat in the car for a good while, the soft humming of the engine and Toji’s warm arms wrapped around your small body mixed with his soft words slowly lead you to sleep.

When you finally woke up you were met with a bright light, bringing a hand over your eyes to shield the sun away you saw Toji leaning over you slightly, working to unbuckle our seatbelt. “Hey sunshine.” he smiled.

“Hey…” you rubbed your eyes gently making him chuckle, “are we at the lake already?” you asked, looking from your seat in the truck, noticing you were in a small parking lot surrounded by forest.

“Sure are sweetcheeks, you wanna get out?” he backed away from the door and let you stumble out, knees still wobbly from being asleep. Toji steadied you and pressed a kiss to your forehead to which you hummed at and tilted your head back, puckering your lips for him. Toji chuckled and pressed a small peck to your lips.

He took your hand in his and walked you to the bed of the truck, picking you up and placing you onto the rubber mat of the bed and grabbing your (Tsumiki’s) pink skates.

Toji pulled off your moon boots and helped lace up your skates before putting you down, patting your head gently. Yawning, you watched him go back to the passenger seat of the truck and put your shoes underneath the seat before coming back to you.

“You ready lil lady?” he looked at you once and took your gloved hand in his, leading you to the rink where Megumi was skating backwards and talking to Tsumiki as she twirled lightly. Megumi saw you and waved, making you giggle and wave back with your free hand.

Toji walked you over to the entrance of the rink, stepping in and holding a hand out for you to aid you in walking to the frozen lake bed. You hesitated, watching Megumi and Tsumiki, they made it look so easy - but to someone who had never skated in their life, you were sure this was how you were to meet your end.

“C’mon baby, I’m not gonna letcha’ fall.” Toji urged, stepping a tad closer to you as reassurement.

“You promise?” you looked down at the ice and back to his face and then his hand.

“Yes, honey, I promise.” Toji’s face turned serious, eyebrows furrowing as you took his hand, helping you step down and grabbing your hip when your leg slipped a tad. You held onto him for dear life, the hood of your coat rubbing against his shoulder.

“It’s okay, kid” he laughed a little and stepped backwards, holding his other hand out for you to take, letting you follow him as he took small swerves backwards. “Easy, just like that - ooh, careful! Good girl.” Toji praised, allowing you to grow more confident as he only held one of your hands now, still skating backwards as he watched your footing. Praising you when you made a turn or caught yourself.

Tsumiki had stopped skating and was standing by the edge of the lake, watching her father and you skate together. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that her father was pinning you and that you were returning, said pinning with the intensity of a school girl crush.

Megumi made his way past her and slowed to watch the two of you, turning to her as his chest heaved slightly. “Why are you watching them?”

Tsumiki was taken aback by his question, taking her hands out and gesturing to the two of you - you had slipped and Toji had caught you, bringing you up to his chest to hold you, letting you rest against his body as he continued to skate backwards, allowing you to hold onto him as he did the work for both of you.

“They look like they’ve been dating for four years for christ’s sake!” She exclaimed, her ponytail swaying. Megumi looked between her and the two of you shrugging lightly before preparing himself to continue skating. “How can you just sit here and not be bothered by that?” she laughed airily.

Megumi sighed and tilted his head towards her, “If i’m being honest, i don't really care - she’s still my best friend, and like, yeah” he shrugged again, “It’s weird, but this is the happiest i’ve seen dad in years, not to mention, she seems happy too.” Megumi then looked down at his gloves, restrapping them before taking off to skate again.

Toji held you to his chest, skating slowly as you listened to his heartbeat through his shirt. The rhythmic sway of his movements slowly lulling you into a sleep again. “You still with me baby?” his voice startled you slightly, vibrating through his chest and tickling the side of your cheek making you giggle.

“Yeah,” you slurred and moved to get closer to him, legs still moving in sync with his to help him as the two of you skated around the lake. “You’re warm.” you snuzzled him.

“Oh yeah?” he pulled your face away from his chest to tilt your head upwards, “Well, you’re pretty.” he watched you turn away from him bashfully, earning a deep laugh from him. “Awh c’mere stinker,” he grabbed your face and turned you back to him, slowly stopping the two of you in the middle of the lake. “You really are pretty.” he said and you nodded, leaning up to kiss him.

Megumi watched the two of you holding each other, completely unaware of his presence in staring at the two of you. An odd feeling filled his chest, not one of anger or sadness but one of almost relief, relief he could see his father being happy. Relief for you, someone who always seemed to sell themselves short, someone who put others before themselves. It was interesting to see you and his father somehow grow closer in less than a full day than he had managed in twenty-two years of living in the same home as the gruff man.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Tsumiki grabbing her brother by the arm, dragging him off the lake and onto the snow covered ground. “We’re gonna head into town and get some takeout, you guys wanna come?” She yelled.

Toji pulled away from your gaze to give her a thumbs up, “We’ll probably get something on the way back, don’t wait on us.”

You watched Tsumiki nod and return the thumbs up, walking with Megumi to the Royce and pulling out of the lot, gravel crumbling under the tires.

Toji sighed as he watched them get into the car, “Finally, gotcha’ all to myself.” He tucked his head to nuzzle your neck making you squeal and wiggle around in his arms. The two of you sat in silence for a small while, listening to the soft air and snapping of tree branches, the occasional bird crying. It was heavenly - you and Toji’s own little space among the battered and destroyed world.

Feeling yourself move forward, you open your eyes slowly to see Toji skating backwards gently, moving so quietly that he skates hardly made any noise against the frozen water. “Hey, you ready to go, baby?” there was that pet name again. That damn name that made your knees weak, an insignificant title that made you want to sink to your soft knees and devour his cock.

“Mhm” you hummed, following him as he made his way to the snow covered ground and pulled you up, helping you stand as he watched you sway tiredly - worn out from skating and probably talking the night before did not help any.

Once in the car, Toji had buckled you in and removed your skates, letting you sit cross legged on the heated leather seats. You watched Toji remove his own skates and put on his shoes before stepping into the car and reaching his hand out towards you. Heat rushed to your cheeks when your hands met, it was a simple act of love - one might even say domestic, and for a minute, yeah, you entertained the idea of being domestic with him. Of having a family with him. Of being his.

“You okay?” He asked and rubbed the skin of your knuckle with his thumb gently, putting the car in reverse with his other. Toji held your hand the rest of the drive, squeezing occasionally when you pointed something out.

“Okay, baby,” Toji parked in a shopping center and let you look around at the sea of snow covered cars and neon labeled writing that covered the illuminated buildings, “What’re you feelin’?”

Sitting up a tad straighter you scanned the buildings, looking for any place you could recognize before falling back against the heated seat. “M’ not really sure, I don’t recognize anything here Toji.” you yawned and leaned over the compartment to wrap your arm around his bicep, snuggling into him.

Toji cooed at your tenderness, patting your head and making the decision himself, pulling into a drive through and ordering something for himself and for you, deciding to get you two different things in case you favored the other.

You woke up to the smell of something spicy, rubbing your eyes before letting them focus on the ma sitting in the seat beside you. “Mornin’ to” you yawned, jumping lightly when he laughed through the mouthful of food.

“It’s seven P.M, baby cakes” Toji took another bite of food and then reached into the backseat to grab the separate bag of fruit and hand it to you gently. “I got you two things so you can choose which one you want.” he brought his hand to your head, pulling you towards him and placing a kiss on your temple and then went back to eating.

“Thankyou Toji.” you whispered, leaning against him as you ate and looked up through the windscreen of the car, watching the stars quietly. The soft hum of the engine mixed with the soft song playing on the radio built a warm feeling up in your belly. The feeling of home. Although you had only known Toji for a day, somehow you knew he was everything you needed. The perfect mix of dominance and parental guidance that made you look up at him like he was the only man in the entire world who mattered (scratch that) the only person who’s ever mattered.

“What’s up, baby?” he met your soft gaze. You smiled and leaned up to kiss him. Toji filled the gap between the two of you and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle, short and sweet, nothing forced and nothing fake. It was reassuring.

The two of you went back to eating when you paused after your third bite, “Toji?” you asked and turned to him. “Yeah, baby?” he leaned back to rest his hands behind his head, watching you lovingly. You had him whipped and he knew it. He knew as soon as he heard your cries and soft meals for him through the thicket walls that he would do anything and everything to ensure you were happy and healthy and his.

“I want you to be my first.” so nonchalauntly said it almost made him blush, you spoke as if you were talking about the weather.

“You sure?” He querched an eyebrow at you to which your submissive nature returned, making you shrink away and lower your head.

“Yeah I’m sure.” you said and played with your food nervously. Toji smiled at you.

“Okay.”

The rest of the ride home was filled with soft comments and the soft sound of your knees bouncing nervously. At one point Toji had reached over to hold your thigh, slowing the rhythmic bouncing. “Calm down” he chuckled and rubbed your leg with his hand, “Don’t stress yourself out, I’m gonna take care of you.” he reassured you. Toji looked between you and the road, your face illuminated with a cherry light from the car lights surrounding you, “Hey, I’d rather have you do it with me than some dipshit who’s gonna fuck you and get you pregnant without caring about you.”

Your head turned to his, a worried expression painted your pretty features. “D-do boys actually do that?”

“Do what, baby?” he squeezed your hand and made a left turn, turning the wheel with his left hand smoothly.

“Try to get girls pregnant and then run away?” your bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Toji would have laughed at your naive nature, so easily bought by scary lines of abandonment. He knew you had abandonment issues; if the small tugs on his arms and adoring looks you gave him were any indication that you had trouble believing people (Toji) weren't going to leave you, stemming from some evil plant that had been rooted by most definitely someone you called a “father”.

“No, not all. But boys are idiots, I don’t want you hanging around any boys when you go back to school. They just wanna get their dicks wet.” Toji said, no room up to argue, as if you were going to.

“I won’t, I promise.” you were serious and Toji could tell. His precious baby, you were all his and he’d do whatever he could to protect you from the terrible monster spewed from the selfishness of teenage boy hormones and immaturity.

“I know baby, you’re my good girl, you’re daddy’s good girl.” the title made your legs quiver immediately, panties becoming soaked and thighs rubbing against each other, desperate for friction to ease the assault on your brain. The truck came to a stop at another intersection and Toji took the opportunity to press a kiss to your soft lips, pulling away and running his thumb across the bottom. He hummed at you and kissed you again, “Mhm, my sweet baby.”

“You’re so pretty” Toji praised, looking at you from between your spread thighs, your legs thrown over his shoulder as he pressed kisses to your panties, sucking on the damp spot of the fabric.

“Mmm, daddy, please.” you whined and reached a hand down to slip beneath your panties, your actions serving as pointless when Toji smacked your hand away.

“Please what?” he bit the inside of your thigh, sucking off your soft skin. You mewled at his touch, small fingers twisting the satin sheets generously. “Please touch me, I need you.”

Toji smiled at your neediness, sitting up a tad to pull your panties off and throw them behind him aimlessly. Bringing his mouth to your cunt he inhaled deeply and groaned, cupping your hips with his rough hands and bringing your body closer to him.

You exhaled shakily as he kissed your clit gently then moved down to lick a wide stripe up your core. You rushed to grab his head to steady yourself, thighs quivering as he groaned again when he inserted a finger.

“Fuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, baby.” he sucked your clit, his finger curling inside of you and stoking your gummy walls. “God, can’t wait to feel your tight little pussy on my cock, Jesus.” he exhaled deeply. “Gonna add another finger, kay, baby, you tell me if it's too much.” you looked up from your cunt, your juices coating his plush lips.

You nodded gently, spreading your legs a tad wider to accommodate toji’s new position. He pulled himself to sit on his knees, resting your cunt over his thighs. “Words for me, use your words for daddy.” he kissed your folds and you shivered.

“Yes daddy-”

“Promise me you’ll tell me if it hurts.” his eyes grew soft at your affectionate gaze.

“I promise, daddy.” you nodded and decided to act boldly, scooting yourself higher into his hold. Toji smirked through a chuckle before leaning down and inserting two fingers into you slowly. Wincing at the stretch Toji caressed your thigh with his hand holding you to him.

“I know, so good for daddy, just a little bit more baby.” he continued to praise you until both fingers were stuffed inside your tight cunt, threatening to split you if he tried to stretch them. “Oh honey, you’re so tight, that hurt?” he looked at you, concerned about his features.

You thought it over for a second, “Mm, a little bit, just a lil’ uncomfortable” hissing when he went to remove a finger, walls clenching emptily after benign stretched lightly.

“M’ sorry baby, daddy’s sorry, jus’ wanna make sure you're okay.” he rubbed the inside of your thigh and reentered his finger, sliding the two of them in and out of you with a squelch of your wet cunt. Toji watched as you squirm slightly, his fingers separating gently to stretch you. “So good for me baby, so good.”

Tears welled in your eyes at the praise, bringing your hand down to wrap around Toji’s wrist, he softened his movements. The two of you met each other's eyes and Toji smirked at your expression, eyes lidded hair stuck to your forehead. The way you looked at him with such trust made his heart swell, your swollen lips and rising chest, and the meteophicral hearts swimming in your vision could bring him to his knees.

He needed you and he fucking needed you now.

Toji grabbed a pillow and placed your hips over it, moving back to lean between your legs and press small kisses to your folds. “M’ you taste so good.” he wrapped his hands around your hips, caging you to the bed. His scarred lip tickling your skin when he sucked on your clit and reached his hand up towards you to hold yours in his own. He could tell you were close. Your legs twitched and he could feel your folds pulse and pump in his mouth.

“You’re okay.” he mumbled as your legs clenched as you came, nails digging into the rough flesh of his knuckle. His gruff voice muffled between your legs. Toji continued to lap at your soft cunt, his tongue flicking over your clit as he brought you closer to the edge.

A tight heat coiled in your belly, you tensed again and pulled your legs closer to your chest, toji following you as you moved, keeping a hand wrapped around your waist. He pulled off of you to smile, the scar on his lip splitting - the sight was almost painful to look at. Toji’s fingers pinched your clit while he watched you moan.

Throwing your head back against the fur pillow and tightening your grip around Toji’s wrist you came. “Oh- oh, please I’m cumming.” your walls pulsed around his digits, pussy soaking his mouth.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for daddy huh” Toji smirked against your cunt, licking your wet folds before moving away to kiss up the inside of your thighs and up your leg that sat on his shoulder. He sat up onto his knees to kiss your ankle, rubbing your calf as you panted. “So pretty, baby.” he kissed your ankle again then moved to rest his hands on either side of your shoulders.

Toji brought his head down to snuzzle your neck, kissing the junction between your collarbone and neck, pressing short and small kisses all the way up your jaw until he met your parted lips. He pressed his lips to yours, cupping your head with one of his hands while the other moved down to part your folds again.

“Think you’re ready for daddy?” he pecked your lips. You nodded and whined lightly as he moved back to cup the bulge in his sweatpants. You moaned at the sight, you pushed yourself onto your elbows and crawled over to him.

He watched you eye his bulge, his cock twitching as your head tilted upwards, eyes meeting his own. You looked so innocent - so easy to ruin. You looked between him and his bulge, jaw opening and closing like a gaping fish. “C-can I touch..” you whispered, embarrassed at your own insinuation that you most definitely wanted this man’s cock inside of you.

Toji chuckled and leaned down to pet your head, he kissed your forehead and nodded when your expression grew into one of frustration at the lack of answer. “Yeah, baby, you wanna touch daddy’s cock?” he tilted his head to watch you turn bashfully making him laugh, pulling down the hem of his sweatpants through his chuckle.

His cock sprung up to tap his abdomen and drool pooled in your mouth, you moved to take him into your mouth, Toji’s hand coming up to press against your forehead, stopping you in the process. You looked up to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Daddy’s okay, I’ll teach you how to suck dick another day, kay baby?” he stroked the back of your head. His words were almost condescending, treating you as though you didn’t know any better, as though you were too incapable of doing things on your own. Toji didn't think so though, Toji saw this as his way to own you completely, riot your brain of everything you knew and mold you into a submissive little puppy - mold you into something entirely perfect and special, hidden from the sinful acts of civilization.

“Daddy,” you whined, pawing at his thigh, staring at his cock had begun tortures; memorizing the thin veins that ran up the underside and his pretty pink tip. Daddy’s cock is pretty you thought to yourself.

He hadn't even noticed he’d begun to stare off.

Toji blinked and made a smile at you, holding your jaw in his hand and kissing you roughly, “Daddy���s here.” he pulled off to look behind you at the bed, pushing you back till you were laying on your back, arms reaching up for him.

Positioning himself between your legs, he hiked one thigh over his arm, pressing your knee to your chest. You placed your hands on his biceps, rubbing his skin as a means to comfort yourself as you watched him tug on his cock, precum leaking from the tip.

You made a nervous whimper at the feeling of his tip pressing against your folds. Toji kissed you and stroked the skin of your hip gently. “Shh… kiss daddy’s gonna go slow kay?” he waited for you to nod before slowly pushing his tip in.

You cried out and pushed against his belly, trying to slow him down, “Too much daddy!” tears already fell down your soft cheeks making Toji’s eyes soften. He brought himself down to rest on his forearms, bringing his hands to either side of your face and cupping it as you sobbed.

“Honey, calm down,” he spoke gently, thumbing your tears away “it’s only just the tip, baby”

You closed your mouth and screwed your eyes shut, trying to get used to the stretch only to shake your head when it wasn’t working. “Too big, daddy,” you wailed and brought your hands up to cup his wrists.

“Baby.” he cooed “focus on daddy for me baby” he pulled out a small bit to let you calm down. You slowly opened your eyes, vision blurred with salty tears as you tried to make out his face.

“Daddy you have to go slow.” you cried, bringing a hand up to wipe at your eyes which Toji pulled away, leaning down to kiss your eyelids gently and pulling back to place a peck on your swollen lips.

He cooed again, “I know baby, daddy’s sorry, he was going too fast.” you nodded at his words and he nodded back, smiling when you began to breathe normally again, taking deep inhales through your lips. “That’s my girl, deep breaths, kay?” you continued to breathe until you squirmed a bit underneath him. “Where you goin baby?” Toji asked, head tucked into your neck where he’d been pressing gentle kisses.

“Wanna try again.” you met his eyes when he came back up, “I can do it daddy, just go slow.” you reassured him when his eyebrow quirked.

“Okay, daddy’s gonna so slow, you tell him if it gets to be too much okay?” he kissed both of your cheeks and you nodded, your features filling with excitement in hopes of making your daddy proud. Toji noticed your excitement, of course, and laughed lightly, “Calm down, squirt, we still gotta take it slow. Daddy doesn’t wanna hurt you.”

You nodded enthusiastically and grabbed his biceps again, bracing yourself for the stretch and wincing when he pushed in again. Toji watched your soft expression grow screwed and stopped, “Take a breath, baby.”

You gasped loudly, showing Toji that you were in fact breathing which earned you a smile at your exaggerated breaths. Toji took your moment of distraction to push himself in a bit more, making your smile break into a gasp, nails gripping his skin roughly.

“So good, for me, see almost done” he tucked your head to look between the two of you; the sight of his girth splitting you open making your walls flutter and soak hsi cock, pulling him into you more.

Toji’s jaw dropped at the clench of you walls, you were so fucking tight - and he wasn’t even all the way in - “Oh, fuuuck,” he chuckled breathlessly, readjusting himself to support his weight on one of his hands, “easy, kid, god.”

“M’ sorry” your eyes welled up, thinking you were hurting him you went to move only to be stopped by him keeping you in place.

“No,” he chuckled “No- just- just god, haha” he took a few breaths, bringing a hand down to massage your clit, hoping you’d loosen up because at the rate you were going right now, he was gonna cum right when he was fully inside you. “Jesus, kid, you’re gonna be the death of me.” he said through gritted teeth.

Toji continued to push himself in, your body shivering and leg quivering over his arm as he met your hymen, tapping it lightly with the tip of his cock making you wince. “There she is.” Toji looked down between your bodies, seeing how much more you had to take he gulped and turned his head back up to see your worried expression.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m still gonna go slow, baby, daddy’s gonna make you feel so good.” the two of you waited for a moment, his cock pulsing inside your tight cunt as you took deep breaths, trying to prepare yourself. Toji took the time to appreciate your features; your furrowed brows as you concentrated on the size of him, your long eyelashes stuck together by tears, your soft skin and plump cheeks that made him want to wrap you up in his arms and snuggle you. “You okay, baby?” you nodded “You want daddy to try moving?” he asked and kissed you.

“Yes daddy, I just- I need help.” you looked to him for guidance and guidance he provided. Toji thought for a second before taking your smaller hand in his large one and pulling it down to his cock, letting you wrap your small hand around the girth that hadn’t entered you yet.

“Good girl,” Toji muttered, watching you feel around his cock, exploring the touch and texture of it, “Now, daddy’s gonna push in and if it gets to be too much for you I want you to press against me.” he informed you and you nodded, heart speeding up at the pulse under the skin of his cock. “You ready?” nodding you moved your arm to his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him.

Toji pushed in gently, your hymen splitting, a broken cry muffled by Toji’s mouth, your hand made no move of stopping him but he slowed to a near stop for your sake, stroking your wrist with his hand and pressing kisses over your tears.

“You okay, sweetie?” he pulled back, stroking the back of your head.

“Yeah, m’okay, jus’ hurts a bit.” you sniffled

“I know, kid, you’re being’ so good for me, so good for daddy.” he kisses your nose and lets you relax, running his hands over any part of your body he could reach, slowly kissing you and allowing you to grow accustomed to his size.

“I’m okay now daddy, c-can you move, but be gentle please, like- like slow?” you said softly, taking your hand off his length to hold his forearm.

“Of course, baby.” Toji nodded and pulled out a bit before slowly pushing himself back in. He watched your expression clench up, having difficulty in taking his length; he tried a few more practice thrusts before realizing your body was tense and making it difficult for you to fully let him move without hurting you. “Baby, relax.” he sat up onto his haunches and pulled you closer to him. Your legs were placed over his shoulders as he pressed your body into a mating press, forcing your body to relax in surprise of all of his cock sinking into your tight cunt making him groan.

“Oh jesus, you’re so fucking tight, baby - haha, god, you’re all mine, god you feel so good.” he praised, head coming to tuck into your neck. He pressed small kisses to your skin while he groaned.

“Mm daddy, please,” your legs tensed when his cock twitched slightly. There was hardly any room for him, his cock was pressed against your cervix, your squirming not helping to ease the cramped feeling.

“I gotcha’, kid.” he pulled out and thrusted back in, this time you moaned and threw your head back against the fur pillows. You felt so fucking full. “Fuck, daddy.” you cried, turning your head upwards to watch him to see his focused yet blissed expression.

“Yeah, sweetie?” he chuckled, thrusting deeply inside you, his balls slapped your skin, the sound was damn near pornographic, the weight of his cock made you moan. “Oh, that feels good, does my baby feel good?” he teased at your expression, drool trailing from your mouth.

You nodded enthusiastically and moved to hold him closer, your legs bending against his shoulders to press him further inside you. “Daddy - whine - daddy, please all the way inside.” you pleaded and Toji looked at you worriedly.

“Okay, sweetie, relax for me.” he readjusted your legs higher on his shoulders and sank all the way into you, two of you gasping when his balls met your folds. “Jesus.” Toji shivered and pulled back to thrust into you again.

Toji continued to thrust into you, hitting your cervix and making you moan and clench around him, the heat and tightness of your pussy making him groan. He needed to get you to come. “C’mon sweetie, you’re so pretty for me, so. thrust. damn. Thrust. Good.” he brought a hand down to your clit and began to circle it gently, the rough pad of his finger bringing you closer.

“Oh fuck, daddy!” you moaned, “Daddy, m’ gonna cum, m’ gonna cum.” you cried.

Toji groaned and leaned down to kiss you, “cum for me sweet girl, want daddy to fill you up? Give you a baby?” he smirked at your expression, fucked coompletely stupid.

“Daddy please, please fill me up.” you moaned, the need to be bred was making your head spin. Thoughts of being swollen with his child and carrying his baby for him made your knees weak.

“Okay, kid, daddy’s cummin’ c’mon.” he said through clenched teeth, pressing your legs deeper against your chest causing you to cum. Your jaw dropped and you gasped, pulling yourself closer to Toji as you came.

Toji leaned into your hold, shivering as he bucked his hips into you, your gummy walls pulsed around him, milking his cock as cum painted your walls. He swore you were going to kill him. “God, you’re all mine, kid, all fucking mine. He finished thrusting and pushed himself all the way into the hilt, assuring his seed took before pulling out and falling beside you.

You sat staring at the ceiling, looking for something to ground yourself with as your body shook. Eyes coming to focus on the iron chandelier you felt tears well up in your eyes and pour down your cheeks. Suddenly everything was too much and not enough, you needed more of him, you needed him to tell you everything was okay, to tell you he wasn’t going to leave his multi-million dollar cabin after fucking you ti’ll you were braindead, your mind scrambled to find some logical thought, grasping at the scariest one it could find until you could feel the anxiety rotting in your stomach.

Toji heard you sniffle and turned over to see you covering your face with your hands, chest heaving as tears ran down your cheeks. “Baby, baby, baby, what’s wrong?” he moved to pull you into his arms, spooning you and grounding you with his weight. “Are you hurt, honey, what’s going on?” he kissed the back of your head. Hsi touch made you cry harder, “c’mon, kid, talk to me.” he pleaded and brought his hand over your body to cup your face.

“Please -” you choked, turning over to meet his eyes, “Please don’t leave me, don’t - I can’t, I wan’t-” you were panicking, unable to get the words out as word vomit spilled form your swollen lips aimlessly.

Toji tried to make sense of your rambling, ‘shushing’ you and pulling you against his chest. “M’ not leaving a sweet thing.” he kissed the top of your head. “Remember how I told you I didn’t want you hanging around those boys? Is that what this is about?” he pulled your head back from his chest to look at you, stroking your cheek gently.

You thought for a moment and considered that those scary stories Toji told you about the mean boys and their inability to be mature probably put you on edge. “Maybe” you sniffled.

Toji chuckled lightly, “Baby, I’m not gonna leave you.” he tucked you back against his chest before rolling over and letting you lay against him. “Shh, sweetie, relax.” he cooed as he felt your back heave with heavy sniffles.

Trying to slow your breathing you snuggled against his body, relaxing to the touch of him running his hand up and down your back comfortingly. You turned to him as you felt your eyes get heavy, “Toji?” you sniffled.

“Yeah, kid?” he asked, eyes closed yet his hand continued to run up and down your skin.

“Thankyou.” you said softly.

Toji peaked one eye open, “C’mere.” he brought his arm up to make room for you, letting you lay down next to him before wrapping you in his hold under the heavy fur blanket. “You’re a good kid y/n.” he kissed your forehead.

You hummed to yourself, relaxing into his hold and falling asleep to the sound of his heart.

The next morning Toji sent you to shower, letting you have your own privacy as you scrubbed the blood from between your thighs and watched the clear water that ran over the pearly white tiles turn a pink hue.

Once you were finished and dressed yourself in a pair of pj’s, you made your way downstairs, lured into the kitchen by the smell of bacon and syrup much like the morning before. Toji was sitting at the bar with a coffee cup in his hand and his phone in the other.

Noticing you enter the room he motioned for you to come over to him, letting you stand between his legs as he sat on the stool. “How’d you sleep, baby?” you stroked your head gently.

“Mm, good.” you yawned and rubbed your eyes to which Toji pulled your hand away from your face again.

“How many times I gotta tell you to stop doing’ that shit with your eyes?” You smiled sheepishly before wrapping your arms around him in a hug to which he returned, resting his chin atop your head.

“Forever.” you joked and Toji laughed, you smiled as you felt it vibrate through his body.

“Breakfast is ready.” Tsumiki said through a smile and placed two plates down at the bar, one for you and one for Toji before going back to make her own plate.

“C’mere, sweet thing.” Toji spread his legs and helped you up into his lap. Letting you rest against his chest as he brought your plate over next to his and began to feed you. It was a simple thing, the act of feeding someone you love, but it was a small act of domesticity that warms your heart. It made you and Toji’s relationship seem years old, as he kissed your temple and took a bite of his own food you smiled to yourself.

“What are you thinking about?” Toji teased and flicked your forehead.

“You.” you answered honestly, snuggling into him.

Toji smiled and placed a hand on your head before bringing another fork of food to your mouth, “Yeah, I’m thinkin’ about you too.”

Toji fed you another bite as Megumi made his way into the kitchen. You waved to him and smiled with a mouthful of food, Megumi chuckled at you, his shoulders bouncing.

He made his own plate and went to sit down with Tsumiki. The four of you ate in silence, save for snide comments made here and there by Toji or soft pet names he would whisper to you as you took another bite.

"Are we gonna go to the gondola today?" He pulled the string off his hoodie mindlessly and he munched on a piece of bacon.

Toji looked back at his son before turning to you and stroking the back of your head softly, "How's that sound, baby?"

You nodded your head and brought a hand up to cover your mouth, "sounds fun to me, I wanna see the mountains and play in the snow."

Toji smiled at your excitement and kissed your temple. The rest of the breakfast was filled with far more normalcy rather than tension, son and father making jokes while Tsumiki and you spoke about silly little things.

"You ready to go, kid?" Toji yelled from the bottom of the steps. He wore a black jacket made of PU leather and cotton fabric, snow pants, a pair of leather snow boots.

Bouncing down the steps in your moon boots you squealed happily, "Yes, I'm so excited!"

Toji chuckled and ruffled your hair once you made it to the bottom of the steps, "Careful, baby." He scolded lightly and you shook your head, removing his large hand from your hair.

"I wanna go!" You said gleefully and ran to the door and out into the icy air, Toji following behind, his bag in one hand and truck keys in the other.

You crouched down in the small amount of piled snow that had built up over night, grabbing a stick and poking at it happily as Toji started the F150 and placed his bags in the back.

Suddenly two hand grabbed your waist making you squeal and thrash around, "Toji!'' You giggled and he laughed, kissing your neck playfully. Toji carried you to the passanger seat of the truck and placed you in the seat, helping strap you in and then kissing your nose.

Toji made his way to the driver's seat and sat down, heated up the seats and started the engine before typing in the directions to the gondola. "You ready to go see some mountains, sweet cheeks?" He laid his hand out across the compartment signaling he wanted you to take his hand.

Placing your hand in his, you looped your fingers together and leaned forward to kiss him on his lips. "Yes!" You chirped and grabbed his phone to turn on some music.

Toji smiled at your music choice and rubbed the faux fur of your glove gently as he drove down the trail. He was happy.

[butchcaseyjones]

so the main themes of august’s character are control, power, and success. these things are closely entwined so i’ll mostly be talking about the control aspect because he wants control to have this power and success.

growing up in the royal family with a father who, like august, prized his title and assets above all else taught august that power and control are the most important things. that’s how you survive. stay on top of everything all the time and don’t let your crown slip. we see these attitudes of controlling others and wanting to stay perfectly on top in all aspects of his life come through all the time. especially when we see august with his mother, this reveals a lot, especially since this is one of the times he comes closest to letting down his guard.

as someone who values success and control, august is not the type to betray any of his actual emotions. especially since he’s very mentally ill, he’s not going to let anybody see his perceived weakness. i’m thinking that his behaviour is a front he’s put on since his father’s death - superior, manipulative, controlling, successful. captain of the rowing team, prefect, a natural leader. 

however, someone who’s naturally self-assured and confident doesn’t feel the need to prioritize control and success to the point where it damages his personal life. august is deeply insecure. he’s shown to have an eating disorder and an addiction to adderall (the adderall could be so he can focus to stay on top of his studies and his image, or because it’s an appetite suppressant). there’s a type of person who therapists would describe as having an enormous yet fragile ego built on some form of external validation. someone very arrogant but easily sent into spirals of self-loathing.

the difference between this type of person and august is that august doesn’t actually believe he’s all that. he’s obsessed with the way he appears and he’ll do anything to appear powerful, successful, and in control. hence his body image issues, pill addiction, and frequent manipulation and betrayals of other people.

august is controlled by his taught need for control to overcompensate for his self-loathing and insecurities. in season two, i want him to go even more off the rails. looking at the trailer there’s a good chance this might happen. he looks pretty psychotic in the scenes of him smiling in the mirror. but i want to take that ‘there’s something fucking wrong with me’ scene and run with it for his character progression this season.

i believe august has some form of personality disorder (he doesn’t fit the criteria for any specific personality disorders, but general personality disorder and other specified personality disorder are still out there), and, like the truth of many people struggling with personality disorders, i want it to take him over. i want august to continue to destroy himself and others in the name of his control and his perfect image and regret it over and over again. if wille is on his revenge arc this season, i want august to strike back in incredibly over-the-top ways. give us reasons to hate him and causes to love him. i want my friends who hate him to watch season two and say ‘i take it back something is very wrong with this guy’. i also want his trauma and his relationships with his mother and his dead father explored more. for me, the season would ideally end with him in psychiatric ward. i love him so much. thanks.

[smurphyse]

Loki is dating a young woman who is a fantastic cook and one day he realizes his pants are a tad tight. He’s gained some weight but doesn’t have the heart to stop eating her wonderful food

Southern Belle

Word Count: 1691 words

Tags: body issues (not like anything too triggering, I don’t think), mentions of sex

I always love feedback, but like, please be nice lol

Send me more Loki prompts! <3 I love doing oneshots!

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

“Here we go,” she sing-songed, carrying a large baking dish over to the table, the little hand-painted ladybugs that decorated it’s sides seeming just as excited as she.

Loki sat patiently, smiling at her as she set it down on the blue checkered tablecloth next to a tub of ice cream. She set down a few brightly colored plates, all painted with various bugs and flowers, decorated by her own hand- which were still stained with paint, he noticed fondly. 

“Peach cobbler,” she grinned, shaking her shoulders in excitement, “Just like Mamaw used to make!”

She watched him closely as he took his first bite, giggling when his eyebrows knitted together in bliss. Fuck, everything she made seemed to come from Valhalla.

His girl, his Southern Belle. The two had been dating for only a few months, ever since Loki had come to San Francisco during his travels. She had been poking around an art fair, her long curls pulled up into two pigtails as she pulled out pieces to observe.

She’d been wearing a pair of dirt smeared overalls, detailed with little butterflies and flowers, obviously hand-embroidered. They were rolled up at the ankles, her neon Converse forcing his eye to her like a shining beacon in the night. 

He’d been drawn to her, like a moth to the flame, unable to control himself as he pushed past the crowds to meet her. As he came face-to-face with her she glanced up at him and flashed him a megawatt smile. He’d been speechless, utterly besotted. 

“Can I help you, darlin’? You look lost,” she drawled, and it took a moment for the Allspeak to translate her thick Southern accent. 

“I think I’ve just been found, actually,” he chuckled, finally finding his voice. 

Her smile seemed to grow brighter, the little crinkles around her eyes deepening as she flushed deeply. 

Loki had offered her a coffee, and she took it. He’d been living in bliss ever since.

She’d come to San Francisco to be an artist, picking up little commissions here and there, working in various galleries and zipping from place to place to help out her fellow creators. She was constantly buzzing around, full of excitement and energy about the whole world around her, ready to take it on day by day.

She gave Loki courage, made him see the little details of this Odin-forsaken planet that he had mostly overlooked. He loathed to admit it, but she had made him love Earth, so long as she was on it. 

One day he would take her to Asgard, and he would watch as she painted the skies in her excitement and ecstasy. His world would be born anew in his eyes, just from the little things she would point out, things he’d never seen. 

They found time for one another whenever they could. Loki had kept himself busy working in various art fairs, finding himself a good organizer for such events. One activity that they had found pulled them together, besides the lovely rapture that was their sex, was cooking. Loki had taken it up when he arrived on Earth, mostly enjoying food closer to Asgard’s cuisines. She was from the South, whatever that meant Loki was not sure, but she insisted it meant all things ‘comfort food’. 

And comfort it gave. She’d shown him Tennessee Barbeque, ‘Pop Pop’s Soaked Ribs’, a bunch of things having to do with cottage cheese, and of course, desserts. 

He was settling down. Norns, if Thor could see him now. He’d likely have a joke or two to make of his unattached, emotionally distant brother finding love in such a creature as her. 

Loki could hear her now, singing some country song in the shower, her deep twang echoing off the tiles and through her small apartment. 

He was getting ready for the day, pulling on a deep green undershirt as he stood in his boxers. He pulled a pair of black slacks out of his little designated area of the closet and pulled them up.

As he buttoned them, he noticed they felt a bit tighter than the last time he’d worn them a few weeks ago. They had one of her art events to go to for lunch, and he’d been wearing jeans mostly when he was working at the fairs. 

Turning, Loki checked out his ass in the mirror. He still looked fabulous if he had to say, but his pants were tighter. 

Could this be a trick? Had Thor tracked him down and performed some spell to throw Loki off his game? It certainly would not be the first time something similar had happened. 

He lifted the shirt, turning to the side as he patted his tummy, his finger pinching along his sides as he sighed heavily. He stepped closer to the mirror, pressing the back of his hand under his chin. His mouth dropped open in shock, and he glared at his reflection.

He’d gained weight.

“I wouldn’t have nothin’ if I didn’t have you,” she sang as she walked back into the bedroom in a fluffy pink towel. She came up behind him and wrapped her hands around his waist, giving him a squeeze as she placed a kiss between his shoulders.

“Hey, handsome.”

Loki scoffed, feeling quite uncomfortable suddenly. She frowned against his back, her hands squeezing his sides lightly, his love handles.

He pulled away from her with a groan, the air feeling heavy around him. He turned to look at her, her lip set in a pout on her concerned face.

“I’m not feeling very handsome today, kitten.”

“Oh,” her frown set deeper for a moment, but was quickly replaced by a mischievous smile, “Is there something I can do to make you feel handsome?”

She tucked her lip between her teeth as she sauntered back up to him, placing her hands on his chest. He smiled down at her, his heart bursting in his chest. 

Loki dipped his head, catching her lips with his own. Her hands tangled into his hair as her towel fell away, and Loki took the opportunity to lift her into his arms and carry her over to the bed.

“I think I have something in mind,” he grinned, pulling her under the covers as she giggled from his touch. 

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

They arrived at the event a little late. The only craft she was not talented in was the art of makeup, but luckily Loki was, and they’d had to spend a few extra minutes covering up some of the hickeys someone had left on her neck and chest.

They were at some vegan restaurant in town that doubled as an art studio. Loki would never understand it, all these hybrid businesses were too niche, they’d have a hard time lasting in this market. But, she liked going and supporting other artists and friends, enjoyed having her art displayed on the walls of local businesses, and who was he to deny her that fun?

The little buffet table was filled with all sorts of leafy greens and vegetables of all colors. It was a vibrant exhibit, accentuated greatly by her art that complimented the bright green and orange paint job of the establishment.

“How come you don’t make food like this?” he asked, waving a blackbean taquito toward her as she gazed at another artist’s work.

“I make vegetables all the time,” she shrugged, snagging the taquito out of his hand and taking a bite.

“You make vegetables with Crisco, which I believe is just butter and animal fat mixed together.”

“I thought you liked my food, honey,” her big eyes clouded with worry, and his chest crumbled in an instant. 

“Oh, my sweet,” Loki sighed, snaking one of his hands around her waist, the other moving to cup her chin, “I do, it’s just-”

“Just what? You’ve been acting weird all day, Loki. What’s going on?”

He felt the heat creep across his cheeks, embarrassment flooding his every vein as he looked down at her. He hated feeling like this, vulnerable, but he wanted to be honest with her, to invest in this relationship.

“I’ve gained some weight recently… and I think it’s from your cooking.”

Her eyes widened in shock, “I haven’t noticed.”

His head cocked to the side, his lips pursing in disbelief. She noticed everything, from the ants on the sidewalk to the stars in the sky, she saw it all. 

“Loki, if you want me to make healthier meals, I’m more than willing. You just seemed to like my comfort recipes so much, and I wanted to make you things you liked,” she wrapped her arms around his waist, tugging his hips tightly against hers. “I have lots of recipes in my book, darlin’.”

“I do love your cooking. I guess I just feel a little… insecure right now,” he admitted, his face starting to cramp from the blazing blush across his nose.

“I really didn’t notice anything, but,” her hands dragged back to his belly, patting it softly as she stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. “Now that you mention it, I do like the little bit of cushion I’m feelin’.”

“Wow,” he chuckled, kissing her again. He covered her hands with his, giving them a soft squeeze of thanks. 

Suddenly, he had an idea. He leaned in and whispered hotly against her ear, “Think you can help me work some of it off?”

“Oh,” she feigned innocence, her southern drawl coming out in full force, “what kind of exercises do you have in mind?”

“The kind that includes me, you, and a locked bathroom door fifteen feet away,” Loki smirked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. 

“Oh, I’m gonna be so sore in the mornin’,” she laughed as Loki dragged her to the other end of the restaurant, admiring his ass in his trousers unabashedly. 

Loki pulled her into the bathroom, locking the door behind them as he lifted her onto the sink. She grinned at him, her eyes full of light as he looked at her lovingly.

His girl, his Southern Belle.

His favorite thing to eat.

[unhealthyfanobsession]

I teased this in a previous post and people asked me to expand so...here’s my controversial take that Rhysand and Nesta are actually parallel characters in many ways and that they both hate each other so much because they ultimately hate themselves.

Alright ladies and gentleman, anti’s and stans, buckle your fucking seatbelts or hope off the roller coaster here because I’m about to learn you a thing or two about the most divisive characters in the ACOTAR world. 

Starting out very broadly- both characters are introduced as sort of confusing villains (Rhys is “evil” but he’s also helping Feyre. Nesta is an “awful sister”, but she also is protective of Elain and tells Feyre essentially to go and be happy), both have faced significant trauma and grapple with self-loathing and feelings of not being good enough, and both ultimately find redemption and healing with their mates who love them. They also both currently exist in a strange parallel coming out of ACOSF where Rhys is supposedly “chosen by the Cauldron” and Nesta is “blessed by the Mother”- the two sacred entities of Prythian.

Intrigued? More specifics and text analysis under the cut

Mommy (and Daddy) Issues:

Both characters were basically raised by their mother’s alone and then lost them at a young age and that had a deep impact on them. Rhysand had a far more positive experience of being raised by his mother HOWEVER I would argue that it was still “grooming��� of a type since she took him away to train in Illyria specifically so that he wouldn’t be influenced by his father.

Rhys’ mother did this out of love and Nesta’s mother groomed her out of a social climbing agenda, but it had the same effect- they both lost the parent who was their primary caregiver at a young age and they were both not close with their father’s because of their mother’s actions  (again this was a good thing for Rhys, not as much for Nesta).

Parents Death: Rhys and Nesta both blame themselves for one of their parent’s death and are deeply affected by feeling like they failed someone important to them.

Rhys thinks that he is responsible for his mother and sister’s death because he gave Tamlin info

Rhys even says after this “It should have been me.”

Nesta feels that she was unable to save her father and she hates herself for it.

Rocky sibling relationship and Separation:

Rhysand and Cassian are obviously a lot further along in their sibling journey, but it’s stated that he and Cassian HATED each other and fought constantly essentially until Azriel arrived and then they decided to be “allies”.

Nesta and Feyre are also at each others throats but seem to put their differences aside in order to not upset Elain. (Even when Feyre first goes back to the human lands Nesta says NOPE NO FAE! But as soon as Elain asks her to do as Feyre says she agrees) and then Nesta states in ACOSF that she and Feyre were brought together by Elain to be allies in the war.

Rhysand and Cassian obviously grew into true brothers despite their adversarial, insulting, bitter beginning... and Nesta and Feyre after ACOSF have done the same. Obviously there’s still a lot of work to be done in that relationship, but the parallel stands (and is just strengthened by the fact that in both cases it’s the character with more power in the relationship- Nesta for being the oldest and Rhys for being the one whose family took Cassian in is then mated to the opposite sibling!)

Both have a parent who essentially separated them from their ‘siblings’ for their own benefit. Nesta’s mom isolated her as a child so that she could groom her and tell her how to maneuver her sisters when the time was right while Rhys’ father- afraid of his, Cassian, and Azriel’s combined power- separated them for 7 years through the first war to ensure they wouldn’t ally against him. Nesta was also separated from Feyre by Tamlin and tried to go to the wall to get her back but couldn’t get through- which is very reminiscent to me of the scene at the beginning of ACOWAR from the first war where Rhys is searching desperately but without hope for Cassian.

Shared Trauma and Learning to be “Evil” to protect their family:

both characters are sexual assault survivors who spend a chunk of their book (I’m counting ACOMAF as essentially Rhys’ book since that’s when we learn more about him as a character) grappling with that, coming to terms with it, and moving forward with a general attitude of “Never Again.” I would also argue that even their abusers are parallels as Rhysand was only ‘with’ Amarantha because he was trying to protect his family and Nesta was only ‘with’ Tomas because she thought his family might be able to take in and feed Elain (she says in ACOSF that she would give him whatever he wanted- her body meant nothing to her and Elain meant everything, which is essentially Rhys’ UTM mindset). In addition, both characters are able to escape their abusers out of love for Feyre. Rhys does so when Amarantha is about to kill Feyre, and Nesta does so because she realizes that Tomas would never go to the wall with her to save Feyre.

 Beyond this, both characters express that it is the lack of control over their own lives that truly haunts them. Rhys when he felt like he had no choice but to be Amarantha’s puppet and Nesta with a lot of her life, but especially when she is forced into the cauldron. Both of these are things that make them feel like failures for not protecting others. Rhys is haunted that he couldn’t protect Feyre under the mountain and Nesta is haunted that she couldn’t protect Elain from the cauldron.

This leads both characters to have a terrifying power-surge nightmare brought on by their trauma (Rhys from Amarantha; Nesta from the Cauldron) that terrifies those around them and can only be stopped by their mate.

In addition to this, they both have a “persona” that they put on and sometimes feel like they can’t shake off, a face that they made to protect themselves and their family. Rhys with his “Court of Nightmares” persona that he uses UTM, in the Hewn City, and with the other High Lords until the war. Part of his growth is letting people see beyond that ‘most powerful high lord of darkness’ mask.

For Nesta this is expressed by her “wolves” that she uses to put up a wall between her and the people who mocked her and her family, and especially Elain. And her learning to open up with Cassian and her found family was really important for her growth

HOWEVER, they both also keep that persona. Rhys has his mask polished for when anyone might threaten the people he loves and so does Nesta. Neither of them truly gave up that side of themselves, the darkness, they simply learned to stop it from consuming them. 

They also both LIKE doing this to their enemies. Rhys likes to toy with his enemies and torture those who would harm his family or betray him and so does Nesta- she revels in cutting down anyone who insults Elain and says in ACOSF that she’s felt the urge to do the same for Cassian. They both wield words like weapons and use their intelligence to ensure they are always one quip ahead of their enemies. Something that both Feyre and Cassian admire in their mates and try to emulate to a degree.

(Bonus points for the fact that in both cases their families did not ASK to be protected/sacrificed for.)

Found family and sacrifice:

Rhys calls Cassian and Azriel his “brothers” after becoming close while training and they conquer the blood rite together. Nesta calls Emerie and Gwyn her “sisters” after becoming close while training and they conquer the blood rite together. Rhys sacrifices himself to Amarantha in order to protect Cassian and Azriel (and Velaris). Nesta sacrifices herself to hold the path of Enalius to protect Emerie and Gwyn. There’s also a line in ACOMAF and a parallel line in ACOSF essentially about Nesta being willing to do anything- including “whore” herself- to protect Elain, and in order to protect his brother’s that’s exactly what Rhys did- “whore” himself to Amarantha.

Both are ‘saved by’ and feel not good enough for their mate:

I hesitate to use the word “saved by” because ultimately both characters have more agency than that, HOWEVER, both characters rely on their mate to a degree to pull them out of a very dark time and place. Feyre helps Rhys remember who he is and forgive himself for under the mountain and he even specifically calls her his “salvation.”

I don’t think I need to even say the Nesta part here, all of ACOSF is essentially Cassian helping Nesta climb out of a dark period so that they can heal together.

(Both also start connecting with their mates on a “just sex” situation.)

Both characters think that because of the things they’ve done and the darkness inside of them that they don’t deserve the people they have been mated to.

Obviously there are many differences, but the characters are similar in a lot of ways and what I think this really highlights is just how true that line is in ACOSF about Nesta being a wolf that was never allowed to learn how to be a wolf. Meanwhile Rhys is 500 years older and has always had power and agency of some kind even at his lowest point. Nesta didn’t have that power and wasn’t allowed to really unleash herself so she armed herself with a steel exterior to make up for that lack of power and control. Which is very similar to what Rhysand did when he felt he didn’t have power under the mountain- put on a cold face, not let anyone in, and act cruel in order to get through it.

Overall it’s an interesting character study because in a lot of ways these are very similar characters, but there is such a MASSIVE divide among the fandom of liking and hating one or both of them. Ultimately, I do think that a lot of the hate Nesta gets is because she’s a woman and female characters simply aren’t allowed to have the same flaws as male ones- which is kind of Nesta’s whole life story. BUT I think that Rhysand actually gets unintentionally screwed over by the narrative in one big way. Becuase my final paralell is that I think a lot of people came around on Nesta when they saw in her perspective that she knows she has problems and how much she was struggling… and I also think that Rhysand is so hated by those who dislike him because of Feyre’s ‘he can do no wrong’ perspective. I think if we saw more of Rhysand internally struggling and knowing that he made the wrong call sometimes and second guessing himself he’d be a lot more likeable character. We know he’s capable of this because when Cassian calls him out on the training roof for always thinking the worst of Nesta he just says “you’re right. I’m sorry” and he even *kinda* admits some wrong when he’s so shocked by how deep Nesta’s trauma is. Feyre and the rest of the IC constantly exalting Rhys as perfect when he so clearly isn’t and in fact has a lot of the same “flaws” as Nesta is probably the most frustrating thing about the character, which ultimately I think is kind of unfair because we know from his few perspectives that he doesn’t see himself that way.

[penajavier]

though you are no god -  Frankie Morales x f!reader

This idea had been brewing for a while and hanging out in my drafts for a longer while, but I’ve finally found the inspiration to clean it up and share it! I am clearly a beginner at this and feedback/critique is always welcome. 

Title: though you are no god (credit)

Pairing: Francisco Morales x f!reader. One use of the word “girl”.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.3k

Content/warnings: brief mentions of nightmares and trauma recovery, angst, smut, still somehow the sappiest shit I’ve ever written. frankie likes to be praised. strictly 18+

ao3

••••••••

The first time you get to witness Francisco Morales fall to his knees in front of you, you almost don't remember it happening.  

His mouth presses hot and wet and urgent against your skin where he is bunching up your shirt to expose it. You are nearly as drunk as him, blindly pulling it off and throwing it somewhere behind him. The wall behind you is cool but does absolutely fuck-all to clear your head because oh god his hands are big and warm and his tongue is incessant and oh god this is Frankie, your goofy, kind, awkward, hot as fuck friend-of-a-friend. He pulls you forward a fraction just to tug on your pants and underwear, letting them gather around your feet without giving you the leg room to step out of them. He lifts your left leg over his shoulder with ease, and then his hands are bracing him against you and his tongue is working as if it has a mind of its own, circling your clit and sliding up your lips and you don't remember his fingers being that thick but somehow they are and you are close to going insane. 

Maybe tomorrow you'll wonder how you ended up here, in a hallway in his apartment where he barely bothered to turn the lights on before pressing himself into you, effectively shutting off any sane connection you might have still retained to the world after however-many drinks you two had got in you. The night was supposed to be about Santi, you vaguely recall, but right now you honest to god cannot even remember what promotion he got that you were supposed to be celebrating. You might have made a mental note to apologize to him for leaving his party early, but Frankie adds another finger to your wet cunt and moans like it's pleasuring him more than you, and it's a real effort not to kick him in the chest or collapse on him then and there.  

The fucker laughs as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and somehow increases his efforts to a degree you hadn't thought possible. It doesn't take much after that for you to feel that knot tightening in your belly, the electricity of it making your limbs shake. Only when he’s satisfied making you cum thoroughly on his tongue and his hand does he stand up, and for the first time since you got here, he speaks. "Hi," he says, the loopiest grin on his face, before leaning forward to kiss you without waiting for you to answer.  

Your last remaining brain cell thinks to itself, this is going to be one hell of a night. 

•••• 

The second time Frankie Morales falls to his knees in front of you, you can barely bring yourself to look at him. 

It's been weeks (months?) since he practically fell off the grid, following your childhood best friend and designated bad-idea-haver Santiago Garcia into the guts of South America. You had reached the point where a part of you was bracing itself for the worst kind of news, of never getting to see your boys again or hell, not even knowing what the fuck happened to them down there. The rest of you was still holding on to your anger in a misplaced effort to stay hopeful, refusing to let you feel anything other than the need to wring their necks as soon as one of them walked back in the door. And that was it, the majority of your days spent getting on edge every time your phone rang or you felt you saw a familiar set of messy curls pass you by on the street, until you walked home one day to find him standing outside your door, hand poised to knock but hesitant. 

"What the fuck?" the words escape you before you can help it, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. When he turns to look at you coming up behind him, you almost stop in shock at how absolutely shit he looks. "What the fuck?" you say again, seeming to have lost all your vocabulary at the sight of this stupid infuriating beautiful man finally standing in front of you in one piece, messy curls and all.  

An eternity passes with the two of you simply staring at each other, your grocery bags forgotten in your hands and his fingers twitching in an effort to keep them to himself. The smell of fresh bread wafting from your grocery bag does little to alleviate any tension, and the silence is almost painful. You want to do something, say something of all the rage and hurt you've nursed in you at being left alone. How dare you, you want to bark at him, want to hold him by the collar and smack him or kiss his face raw. 

You must take too long in your own head because he carefully extends a hand toward you, but you are so over-stimulated at the mere sight of him that you flinch.  

That's what breaks him, you realize later when the storms have passed and the proverbial rivers have calmed. Not the pain and loss and grief of the mission - things he'll whisper into your chest when you let him - and not the physical battering he must have taken through it all. What breaks him is you flinching away from him, as if you'd forgotten who he was. It’s only me, it's your Frankie, he wants to scream; wants to gather you in his arms and breathe into your ribs. But all he can do is fall to the ground and plead with his eyes.

I'm sorry, mi alma he seems to be saying, and the sight of this glorious man breaking down in front of your doorstep makes you ache in the depths of your bones. You rush forward, all your anger evaporating away from you in the instant it takes to wrap your arms around him and let him rest his head on your stomach. The position is awkward at best. His touch feels almost alien and his hair doesn't smell like you're used to, but you let him cry, let him ruin the clothes you hadn’t given much thought to anyway, and it doesn't occur to either of you that the shirt is one of his that he'd left at your place. 

You choke back the ocean rising in your throat, not knowing how to navigate everything you're feeling at the same time. Will we ever be okay? you wonder, your entire body feeling numb as he holds you just the tiniest bit more tightly.  

You don't know then if you'll ever forgive him, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be the same man again, but right there in that moment none of it matters. What matters is that he is here, and you are holding him like you'd wished and prayed for in all those lonely nights. Maybe you'll never be okay like you used to be, but you have him for now, and you're too exhausted to think beyond that. 

•••• 

The third time, it's fucking magical. 

You and your Frankie have finally settled into a somewhat stable routine. After he left you with the promise to get his shit together, he made good on his word. It seemed as if the mission that must not be named put things into perspective for him - and for you, for that matter - and the two of you decided to give up on the delicate dance you kept orchestrating around each other. You had realized that you needed him much more than you could ever resent him for leaving, and he had realized he never wanted to feel the paralysing fear of thinking he'd never make it back to you again. You two had decided to sit down like adults and talk about it, and Frankie’s regular visits to his therapist had certainly helped. 

Now, in the early morning light in your shared bedroom, he looks the very picture of calm. The birds chirp softly outside the window, blending in with the music of the traffic that you two have begrudgingly come to love. The nightmares haven't left him completely, but they're less frequent and far less incapacitating for him. You feel a rush of pride for how far he's come, how much effort he put into building himself back up piece by piece after being shattered to his bare bones. You’ve seen him curl into you out of fear and into himself during the moments of self loathing when he feels he doesn't deserve your kindness, but now he sleeps with his head tilted slightly upward, exposing the beautiful planes of his neck to you. He is beautiful, you've known it for as long as you've known him, but something about the soft sunlight turning his curls golden and the way you can tell he's truly at peace in this moment, brings tears to your eyes and makes your throat clench. 

You lean up on your elbow and touch his face. His skin is soft, and he smells faintly of your body wash. Thief, you think fondly, brushing his unruly hair away from his forehead. he had stopped cutting it as frequently as he used to because he noticed you liked running your hands through it, and you realize with a jolt that that had been years ago, long before you two had any conversation about the future, even before he had his world turned upside down in the depths of an unnamed jungle. That is when you realize that Francisco Morales told you he loved you long before you had the sense to understand it, and this time you do cry. 

He stirs in his sleep. You briefly worry that you woke him, but he simply turns his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply at your shoulder before falling back asleep. The feeling of his soft breaths against your skin makes you smile, and you feel yourself falling more in love with every one of them. 

He wakes you up hours later with gentle kisses and the promise of pancakes, making you giggle with the way his moustache tickles your chin. When you find him in the kitchen later he seems more chipper than usual, smelling like a bakery and humming softly while setting the table for two. He greets you with a sweet kiss and pulls out your chair for you before sitting down in his own. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you ask playfully, and he smiles wide behind his glasses that you’d finally convinced him he needed. Beautiful man, you can't help but think. 

"Just wanted to do something nice for my girl," he answers with his mouth full and you flick a berry at him, which he expertly catches. "Oh so that's how it's gonna be," he puts down his fork and you start to run away, but he is far too quick. He catches you by your waist and pulls you into his chest, licking your cheek obscenely.  

"Frankie, you dog!" you giggle, still fighting his grip.  

"Dogs are cute," he shrugs, seemingly unfazed against you using all your force. He is gentle as anything with you, but he sure likes to show off his strength every once in a while. He lifts you effortlessly off the floor and sets you on the counter. "You think I'm cute?" he wiggles his eyebrows. 

You almost playfully call him insufferable on autopilot, the way you've always bantered since you've known him. But you're aware now how he relies on verbal affirmations, and you've been making a conscious effort of supplying them whenever you can. So instead you hold his face in your palms and tell him that you think he's the most wonderful man in the world, and that you love him more than anything.  

"Baby," he drops his head to your shoulder and sighs. You do this to him, making his heart swell and threaten to burst out of his ribs. He doesn't have the words, doesn't know how to tell you he feels like the luckiest man in the world every morning when he wakes up next to you, every time he hears your voice or feels your palm in his. He doesn't know how to tell you you've been his anchor and his best friend, or how he can't believe he gets to have this kind of domestic bliss at all. "Baby," he repeats, "I love you." 

You try to deepen the kiss he initiates, but he pulls back and tells you he has plans for the day, telling you to get dressed for something outdoors. You feel a rush of happiness at the thought of him feeling more and more like himself with every day that passes, picking up old habits and finding joy in them. You kiss his cheek and run off to get dressed, beyond excited to see what he had planned. 

The ride to the field is longer than you expected. Frankie has turned the radio on and it plays softly in the background as you two talk occasionally. It’s a calm morning, with the perfect weather that's neither too cold nor too warm. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it softly once he's parked, and then he hops out and opens your door for you. 

"Such a gentleman," you tease. 

"Yeah," is all he says before he's kissing you breathless against the truck. It takes you by surprise, but it's far from unwelcome. 

Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, and you can tell it takes a special amount of effort for him to pull away from you, his hands still holding you close as he pulls on yours and leads you deeper into the field. The grass is high enough to tickle your ankles, and the whisper of it against your skin feels wonderful. He slows down, the pace leisurely enough for you to appreciate the wildflowers growing around you. He’s careful not to step on any, and you're struck once again by the multitudes that exist within this one man. The same man who has confessed to sins you could never have thought him capable of, now so careful with a thing as gentle as a dandelion. You think about his hand that is so gentle in yours, and the memory of it firmly wrapping around your throat as he does unspeakable things to you makes you blush, and you will yourself to come back to the present.  

Frankie has led you to a tree, and you notice a tree house resting on the sturdier branches. It’s new, you realize, and look at him quizzically. 

"Remember how I was supposed to pick up new hobbies?" he says sheepishly, gently leading you around to the other side where you see wooden footrests leading up. He urges you to climb up, and you are still so surprised that you can only obey. 

"I thought you'd like this," he's saying. "It can be our secret place, we come here whenever we want. Not that we don't already have a home and privacy but I thought this could be nice to have. Like a little getaway close to home." He's rambling now, as you notice all the fine details he has paid attention to in the construction of it. 

"Honey? Do you like it?" he asks when you've been too quiet. 

"Do I like it?" you ask incredulously. "Francisco Morales, this is amazing!" 

He immediately breaks into a wide grin, and you can see that he is proud of himself. He looks almost like an eager child, and you love the way his eyes shine in that moment. 

"There's one more thing," he leads you to a small opening in the wall that serves as a window. You can see the clear sky and the field stretching out under you, and the cool breeze feels like a gentle caress. It's a beautiful view, and you lose yourself in the sights and smells for a moment. 

"So am I looking at something specific?" you ask, wondering what it was he wanted to show you.  

He doesn't answer, though, and you turn around to repeat the question. The sight that meets you nearly knocks you off your feet, and you cover your gasp with your hand. 

Frankie is on one knee, hat resting by his feet and hand extended, holding the most gorgeous ring you have ever laid eyes on. You might be biased, but you couldn't care less. 

"Darling, I-" he starts, but you don't have the self control that he apparently does, and you throw your arms around him. 

He wraps tightly around you, only letting you have enough room to look up and kiss him. And god do you kiss him. You kiss him like he has never been kissed before, like you could pour every ounce of affection you have for him into that one moment, needing him as close to you as possible. 

You don't realise you're crying until he kisses the tears off your cheeks, and then he lifts your hand and slides the ring on. 

•••• 

The fourth time comes that night, after you've spent your day in the field, holding on to each other and bursting with mutual joy. 

He sits you down on the bed, and kneels in front of you, kissing your shoulders gently. "Hey, Mrs. Morales," he smiles as he says it, even as he's biting the soft skin at your clavicle. 

You laugh, telling him that’s not how engagement rings work. He only grins against your skin and bites harder. 

You scratch his head and he purrs, lifting his head briefly to give you a sweet kiss before he's pushing you to lie down. Let me take care of you, honey, he whispers. Then his hands are on your waist and his mouth is on your chest, making you writhe in place. He kisses and sucks and bites, making sure to give every part of you equal attention. So beautiful, he's talking almost to himself as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down to your tummy.  

His hands meanwhile touch and grab and smooth over any part they can reach, moving as if of their own volition. He knows your body so well that he can map it with his eyes closed, can recognize it with his last breaths. He reaches your cunt and pulls you closer, closer, inhaling deeply and groaning like he's hardly staying in control. 

With the same patience he had displayed earlier in the day he teases you mercilessly, kissing around where you need him most. You pull on his hair and he tuts and bites your thigh. What did I say, baby - a flick of his tongue against you - let me take care of you. You whine petulantly, and he tells you to be a good girl for him. He even says please, the asshole. 

The first lick against your clit comes at the same time as his finger pushes into you, and it takes everything you have not to lift off the bed. So wet for me, he moans against you, the vibration making your pleasure amplify. You fist the sheets around you, telling him how fucking good he's making you feel, how good he always makes you feel. The praise fuels him on and he pushes two more fingers into you at the same time. 

You are so full and so stimulated with his tongue incessant against your clit, and he has no plans of letting up. You feel your orgasm hit you quick and hard, and you can barely warn him before you're gushing, soaking his face and trying to pull away from the overstimulation. 

He looks up at you, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He licks you clean until you're begging him to stop, and then he patiently kisses his way back up your body. 

"That was... that was amazing," you're out of breath as you say it, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in to taste yourself. 

"Oh honey," he coos. "I've barely started." 

•••

fin.

Tagging some lovely mutuals whom I love and who are amazing writers: @disgruntledspacedad @pedropascaldice @frannyzooey. Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future (if there is a future) ❤️

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

dark place, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Min Yoongi is a man with no recourse, looking into the depths of an empty bottle. He’s in his dark place now and there’s no end to the darkness. The only one who holds the light is you, the other with your own dark place, the one he drove away. You shouldn’t have come.

warnings: mentions of attempted suicide; depression; former (toxic) lovers; rated M (18+) for language, alcohol consumption; heavy angst; smut (fem reader, f and m-receiving oral, tit fucking, penetrative sex)

--

“Hey.”

He must be seeing things. This couldn’t be real.

“You smell like alcohol.”

He did. He did smell like alcohol. He reeked of it. Because he was alone. Because he was thoughtless. Because he was empty, just like the whiskey bottle in his hand. Because he wanted to go to heaven, as soon as possible, and maybe, just maybe, if he drowned himself enough, he could part the sea of his own tears, walk across them, and never come back to this version of himself.

You pushed the door open, just a little. He relented, stumbling back. You stepped inside quickly, catching him. He pushed you away and you let him, sighing softly. You closed the door behind you and stepped out of your heels, watching him wobble into his apartment, almost tripping, almost dropping the bottle.

“Yoongi.”

Min Yoongi paused, swaying. You watched his form, waiting.

“Who sent you?”

His raspy voice was grating and accusatory.

“Hoseok.”

For a moment, you thought he was going to hurl the whiskey bottle. Instead, he just crumpled, sliding to the floor slowly, a mountain of black. Black hoodie, black sweatpants, black hair.

A long time ago, you had asked him the question. The question that drove you two apart, the question that you knew the answer to, but asked anyway. Back then, you thought nothing was more painful than limbo.

“I can’t.”

Those were his words to you at the time.

You took a few steps in, bending down to take the empty whiskey bottle from his limp hand. He wasn’t asleep, but he wasn’t trying to stay conscious either. You were in your black slacks, black vest, and white dress shirt. Your bartending uniform. You knelt down and gently took him by the arms. He tried to fight you, but it seemed more like he was fighting himself. His whole body was shaking, pale face paler and gaunter than before. You dragged him to the bathroom, to the toilet.

He vomited.

You waited, him crouched over the toilet bowl, emptying his stomach of the liquor.

You told yourself you would never come back here. Jung Hoseok called you many times, asking you to come. Asking for help. And every time, you told him you couldn’t. That you weren’t ready. Hoseok pleaded with you, begged. Said you were the only one who understood, the only one who could even fathom what was going on in Yoongi’s head. And every time, you said you couldn’t. Because of what he said.

I can’t.

Then neither can I, you had thought to yourself.

You heard Yoongi choke a little and reached up to pat his back. Ran your hand over it, feeling his bones under the thick fabric, feeling his shivering. He flushed the toilet and you lifted him, righting him in front of the sink. He bent over it, rinsing his face, washing out his mouth. You didn’t say anything. Watched him brush his teeth and rinse some more.

You didn’t look at the mirror. You didn’t want to see your own face. If you didn’t see yourself with him, then maybe it would be like you never came. Like you were never here. Like you never gave in.

“I’m afraid he’s going to kill himself.”

That’s what Hoseok had told you. And you knew you shouldn’t have come, because when you’re in that place, no one can help you. No one can hold you. And you knew that. You knew that, because years and years ago, before you met Yoongi, before you even knew love could exist…

You had stood there, in that dark place.

That night, in that garage, covered in gasoline, you stood there, shakily holding that match. You really thought that was the end. You really thought, this was the way. Not simple, easy, effective, but full-on suffering. You thought you deserved that. You were young then. You didn’t know there were easier ways. You just wanted it to end.

Yoongi lifted his head. You could tell that he was looking at himself in the mirror, looking at that dark place. You knew there was nothing you could say. Nothing to do but stand there.

When two people are in that dark place together, the relationship can’t last. The relationship can’t breathe, because even if you’re in the same place, you both got there in different ways. Both of you would try to heal the other with words that never worked, because neither of you understood how you got there in the first place. You knew that now, much too late.

Yoongi turned around. You could see it, reflected in his dead eyes. The same scene you saw when you were standing in that garage that night so long ago.

“Why did you come?” he rasped.

You smiled sadly and told the truth.

“I don’t know.”

He looked down, at your clothes.

“You look dumb.”

You chuckled wryly. “I thought you liked formal wear.”

Yoongi frowned at you. His dark circles were even worse now.

“You look better naked.”

You shrugged. “I might get arrested on my way here if I did that.”

He scoffed, the side of his mouth raising a little. He pushed himself off the sink and tried to brush past, only to sway and descend against you, sliding down. You reached out and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Even though Yoongi was taller than you, his body felt like nothing. You stood there. He was breathing raggedly.

“I haven’t eaten.”

“You never do when you’re…”

You were about to say, like this, but you trailed off. You had the same habit too. That’s how you knew you were slipping back to that dark place.

Yoongi shuddered, leaning his head against your stomach. “I bet you were never like this after…” He trailed off too, not saying it.

“I was. In a different way.”

“Not anymore, though.”

There was a long silence.

“You learn to pretend.”

He stiffened at your words. “Don’t give me hope.”

You narrowed your eyes even though he wasn’t looking at you. You scowled. “You were the one destroyed it all.”

He lifted himself away from you. Broke out of your grasp. He was kneeling, staring at the floor.

“I know.”

You felt the anger come back. You wanted to scream. If you knew, why? If you knew, then why would you do this to me? Why would you ruin everything? Why would you say, I can’t? I can’t. The words that haunted you every night, every day, every waking second, and every nightmarish dream. But you didn’t cry. You didn’t start. Everything was apathy.

“Do you love me?”

You thought you were mishearing things. You thought your thoughts had come to life and spoken to you. For the first time, you looked into the mirror, into your own eyes. Your own dark circles. Your own face, gaunt and sickened from lonely nights. Was this some kind of cruel joke? Some kind of twisted déjà vu? You huffed in disbelief and looked down, down at the black curled-up form of Min Yoongi. Had he really, just now, said those words to you?

You crouched down. He wasn’t looking at you.

“I can’t.”

He flinched a if he was slapped. Then, very gradually, he turned his head to face you. Staring at you, with those empty, hollow dark brown eyes.

You exhaled deeply. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” you whispered.

He nodded, slowly. “Yeah.”

You knew why he said it back then. Depression. You were both in that dark place. Neither of you fully understood why the other was there. Both of you used it to manipulate the other. Both of you used it like poison, puppeteering the other into the kind of love that was only based on pity, on fear, on sadness. And both of you knew it was wrong, it was terrible, and it was not the way to live. It was not love. And when you finally pulled the word out to him, he pushed you away, either from self-loathing or to protect you. Maybe both.

You sat down on his bathroom floor, looking into the eyes of the man you loved. And maybe they were the same as yours. You didn’t know. You kept yourself busy with work, taking double shifts to forget everything, working your body until you ached and collapsed in bed every night.

Yoongi’s face was completely blank.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

You wanted to hold him. Touch his face, tell him it was okay. Tell him you would always come back.

“There’s nowhere else to go,” you replied.

He was hurting. Hurting so very much. Yoongi stared at your face, at the spirit that he knew he broke, at the heart he knew he shattered. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes.

“I should have one more.”

“You know you shouldn’t.”

Yoongi turned his body, swallowing hard. His legs fell open, one knee up, the other on the floor. A familiar position, where you used to crawl up to and sit with him. But now you sat across from him, unmoving.

“I can’t do anything.” His voice was a cracked whisper, despairing. “I can’t compose. I can’t write lyrics. I can’t think of anything new. Everything sounds like shit. Everything is shit.” He smacked his head against the sink cabinets, brows furrowing. “My muse left me.”

He opened his eyes, slowly. Slowly. You weren’t crying. You just looked at him, heart aching.

“You told me to leave.”

His eyes shifted down. He wasn’t really looking at the floor. He was looking somewhere else, into the dark place.

“I know.”

You knew it would hurt you. You knew his voice, caked with remorse and shame, would hurt you. You knew and yet you came anyway, running at Hoseok’s panicked tone. You also knew, as Yoongi held his hand out and touched your face, brushing his fingers against your cheek, that you shouldn’t have come.

“I’m sorry.”

Because you knew it would be like this. So genuine and real, the way he said it, intoxicated, on the edge and hating himself. You knew because you were capable of the same thing. And yet you let him pet your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. Yoongi studied your eyes, your mouth. He leaned forward, pink lips parting.

You wanted it to be different. You wanted to hold your hand up to stop him. You wanted to be the voice of reason. You didn’t want to get hurt anymore.

But you let him kiss you because, in the end, you were weak too.

He pressed his lips against yours, a little minty from the toothpaste. You inhaled softly, breathing in that familiar smell. He still reeked of alcohol, but there was his own scent too, the scent you loved, the scent you dreamed about. His familiar taste. He leaned in more, crawling to you, cupping your face, lips molding to yours, his gentle breath against them. His tongue slipping out, licking yours. And you knew, with every second, that you were digging your own grave, but you let him because he was falling apart and maybe he was just using you an excuse to not think anymore.

Maybe that’s all it was.

Yoongi’s hands dragged down, finding the buttons of your vest. Pulling them apart, opening it up. He pressed his palms against your chest, nipping lightly at your lips. You breathing hitched, pushing your head back against the bathroom door as he kissed down your jaw, your neck, to the collar of your white shirt. You bit your lip as he undid each button, kissing every bit of exposed skin. You tried to tell yourself to stop him, but he was already pulling your dress shirt out of your pants, pushing it down to expose your bra.

“You still wear front clasp bras.”

You shrugged. “Easy access.”

Yoongi looked up at you, eyes in pain. “For who?”

You looked at the floor. “No one, anymore.”

His deft fingers undid the clasp.

“Was it only for me?” Yoongi murmured, spreading his fingertips on your breasts, pushing the cups aside.

“Everything was only for you.”

He paused. Your chest was fully exposed, shapely breasts with perky nipples poking out at him. He was between your legs, having spread them apart to move downward. Still fully clothed. Yoongi lifted his head, scooting back up to your face. His dark eyes found yours. He pressed his clothed chest against your naked one, forehead against yours.

“I’m hurting you.”

Your hand came up and petted his dark hair. Ran your hand though his dark locks, holding him close.

“That’s okay,” you breathed against his lips. “I know why.”

His large hands slid up your naked back, eyes closing. He turned his head to kiss you again, harder this time. Hungrier this time. Trying to tell you he was sorry for being this way, sorry it was like this, sorry he couldn’t stop. His nails dug into your back, dragging down, and you gasped, breathing into his mouth. He moaned, rolling his body into yours. Rubbing his hoodie into your nipples. You whimpered as the thick fabric stimulated them.

Yoongi pulled back a little to yank his hoodie over his head, dragging the white t-shirt underneath with it. He placed his hands on your waist and drew you into his lap, pulling your shirt and vest off, placing you two back in that familiar position. He was thin and pale, as if he hadn’t been outside for a long time. You leaned down and kissed him, soft kisses on his lips and cheeks, hands on his shoulders. He whispered your name and you whispered sweet nothings, holding him to you as he kneaded your breasts. Gently feeding his ego, falling into a familiar pattern. He smiled up at you, rubbing his thumbs against your nipples, making you moan.

“Has anyone else touched you?” he murmured. “Anyone else since that time?”

Even if someone had, you wouldn’t have told him. “No,” you breathed, gasping as he tugged gently at your nipples.

“I couldn’t think about anyone else,” Yoongi mumbled, pressing his hands into your breasts again, cupping them. “Your body is like a drug.”

You smiled into his forehead. “It’s a pretty normal body.”

“No, it’s not.”

His hands slid down to your waist, nails scratching into your sides. You hissed, arching your back. He continued, clawing at your sides, leaving red marks as you squirmed, throwing your head back as he teased your erogenous zones.

“It’s the body I remember,” Yoongi purred, tilted his head up at you, watching you fall apart. “It’s the body I loved, the body I continue to love, the body I will forever love.”

You wanted so desperately for it to be true, but there was no point in asking now. You clenched your jaw and panted, pleasure prickling up to invade your thoughts, each a blooming spiderweb over your doubts, your fears, your reason. You saw Yoongi’s lips part, trembling as he watched, becoming just as aroused as you.

“Look at you.” His voice low and gravelly, familiar. “You love it when my hands are all over you, don’t you?”

His nails scratched up your back and then back down to your sides, over and over, crisscross marks into your skin like an animal, marks you used to stare at in the mirror and rub yourself to, thinking of him.

You looked down, breathing hard.

“Always.”

You reached for your slacks as he continued, your body shaking with pleasure, unbuttoning them, unzipping them. His hands dragged your pants and panties down, stopping because of your spread thighs. His nails came down to your ass and you moaned, grabbing his shoulders, wishing you were stronger, wishing you were better, wishing depression wasn’t a forever contract. Because you were weak when it came to Min Yoongi, weak when he pushed you to the hallway, yanking your pants down and shoving them aside, weak to him spreading your legs, dipping down.

You sighed in pleasure as his tongue touched you, daintily pushing your slick folds aside, hands on your hips, holding you still as he breathed into your heat.

“Ah, Yoongi…”

His name, so cruel and beautiful, leaving your lips as he closed his eyes and played with your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Just take the pills and the dark place will go away. But it never went away; it just found more creative ways to break you, and you had shared it with no one but the talented tongue beneath you, the tongue that greedily lapped at your clit, so fast and hard that your spine arched, hands on his, every muscle tensing.

“Y-Yoongi, you feel s-so good…”

And you knew it was wrong, you knew you had to stay away, for your sanity and his, but it was too late, too late as he pushed you over the edge, sucking on your clit and licking fast. Your hips bucked and it poured out of you as you pressed your head against the floor and moaned his name again, eyelids fluttering as he sucked it out of you like a vampire, moaning into your pussy, your orgasm like honey, coating his tongue. He fucked you with it, feeling your walls close in on his tongue as he pushed in and out, scooping out more, drunk on you.

Your chest rose and fell as Yoongi continued, softer, licking every little bit out of you. When he was done, he crawled back up to your face, lips swollen and glistening, kissing you deeply, thrusting his tongue in your mouth. You could taste yourself, whimpering as he fucked your mouth with the wet muscle, his saliva sliding into your throat.

You felt wetness on your face. You opened your eyes a crack and tears clung to his lashes. Your hand slid up his back, tangling into his hair. Pulling him closer, kissing him deeper, sucking on his tongue. You realized his eyes were open too, watching you, aware that you had seen, but you only held him tighter, closer.

He broke apart, his exhale heavy against your skin, your name so delicately forming on his lips.

“Can I take you to the bed?” Yoongi asked quietly. Trembling, afraid.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Please.”

He got up and extended his hand. You didn’t have to take it. You didn’t have to hold it. But you did, hand fitting perfectly into his, grasping tightly, letting him pull you up. He swayed a little and you smiled, tipping his head towards you to press your nose to his.

“Haven’t you drunk too much?” you teased lightly, intertwining your fingers.

He scoffed as you two began to walk to the bedroom. “Are you implying something?”

“No, not at all.”

Yoongi frowned at you and pushed you into the room, shedding his sweatpants. “You should know I have a high tolerance.”

“You face is still red though.”

You sat onto the bed, facing him, backing up with your hands. You knew how much space was between you and the headboard. You knew where his pillows were. You even knew the feeling of his sheets on your bare body.

Yoongi’s eyes went to the floor. He walked over to his nightstand, opening the drawer.

“Maybe it’s red for a different reason.”

You chuckled as he took out a condom, pushing down his boxer briefs. His cock popped out, semi-hard, tip glistening with pre-cum.

“It’s not me, since we’ve had plenty of sex,” you remarked off-handedly.

He climbed onto the bed, still not looking at you. You slid down, opening your mouth. He stiffened as you wrapped your lips around his cock, closing your eyes as you swiped your tongue over the head. You groaned at his familiar taste, sucking all over, feeling him swell in your mouth. You pressed your tongue against the bottom of his cock, rubbing from side to side, making him suck in a tight breath.

“It is you.”

You opened your eyes, slowly, his cock still in your mouth.

“Because you came back and I don’t deserve that.”

You blinked up at him. Yoongi sunk his teeth into his lower lip, sighing softly.

“And I’m getting hard, even though I’m not supposed to,” he hissed, voice thinning. “And I still want you, even though I’m not good enough.”

You pulled your mouth off him and took him by the waist, dragging him to you. Pulling him as he resisted you feebly, reluctantly. You made him get on top of you, his cock hitting your breasts, wetness dripping everywhere.

“I’m not good enough either,” you said apologetically. “I guess we both suck.”

You pressed your breasts together, trapping his cock between them. He moaned softly, using his own hand to push his cock into your cleavage, rocking his hips back and forth. It should have killed the mood. It should have ruined everything. But it didn’t, either because both of you were incredibly fucked up or too fucking horny to really care anymore as Yoongi humped your tits, covering you with your own saliva and his pre-cum, rolling his hips into your chest.

“So soft…” he groaned, pressing the head in between your breasts. You rubbed your nipples as you held him tight, moaning with him, staring into his dark, cat-like eyes filled with lust, his black hair framing his slightly rounded cheeks, lips dark pink from pleasuring you.

“You’re still the sexiest man I’ve ever seen,” you murmured, knowing he wouldn’t believe you, knowing he didn’t want to believe you.

He chuckled, drawing his cock out from between your breasts. “You always say that. Your eyes need checking.”

You touched your chest, skin sticky and rapidly getting cold. “I’m offended.”

Yoongi shook his head at you, unwrapping the condom and sliding it on. A small smile danced on his lips as he grabbed your thighs, spreading them. How many times had you fought for that smile? How many times had you prayed and hoped that smile would stay, always? And how many times were your dreams shattered as the darkness always came back, dragging you both down into it?

Yoongi positioned you in front of him, one leg onto his shoulder, one leg around his waist. Slowly, slowly, pushing into you, a soft sigh escaping his lips, eyes closing as he felt you envelop him and pull him in, pulsing around him.

“You’re still so fucking tight,” he groaned, shuddering. “How can I fuck anyone else, knowing you’re this tight and this good?”

He went all the way in, hitting your deepest parts. Yoongi always fit you perfectly and you always clenched around him, controlling your muscles. It was sinful with how good it was. He slid out just a little and pushed back in, making you whimper, your legs tightening around him. He dug his nails into your thighs and dragged them over your skin. You gasped, clutching his sheets, feeling his cock throb inside you, tongue tucked in his cheek as he focused.

“Y-Yoongi…”

He smirked. “Can’t get that anywhere else, can you?”

You smiled back, raising an eyebrow. “Not sure, dildos these days are crazy.”

Yoongi laughed. Laughed and made your heart stop. His teeth and his gums flashed as he threw his head back a little, a little dry and raspy, the same laugh you remembered. His dark eyes went to your face, still gripping your thighs, realizing what he had done. You looked away quickly, not wanting to ruin the moment.

He jerked his hips sharply.

“Hey, I’m still dick-deep here. Pay attention.”

You scoffed and turned back to him as Yoongi leaned down, pressing your leg down to get a higher angle. He rolled his hips into you, grinning as you moaned, your other leg tightly around his waist. You flexed your muscles and he sucked in a tight breath.

“Fuck…” He thrust again, harder this time, shuddering as he felt you squeeze him. “You’re so fucking wet and tight.”

You pressed your head into the pillows as he began to fuck you, really fuck you, hard and fast and powerful, the Yoongi you remember, the Yoongi who clenched his jaw and fucked you so hard that you were gasping for breath, clutching the sheets and moaning as he hit all your deepest parts, making the bed squeak in protest. Your eyes found his and he watched you, pink lips parted, bruising your hips together.

“Fuck, I love the way you sound,” he mumbled, brows furrowing as he increased his pace. You whined, tipping your head back, exposing your neck. “All those sexy noises you make. Fuck. I could cum listening to only your voice.”

“Y-You have…” you gasped. “You’d call me at work, demanding me to g-get you off…”

He grinned. “And you’d always complain about getting in trouble as you fingered yourself in the bathroom.”

“It could have happened,” you hissed. Yoongi leaned in even more, lifting your ass from the bed, thrusting even harder.

“Might still happen.”

Your heartbeat skipped, but then you orgasm crashed down, making you wail loudly as your pussy convulsed around him, massaging his entire length as you shivered, hips jerking involuntarily. He chomped down on his lower lip, swearing as he roughly pounded you, determined not to cum yet, determined to get one more out of you.

“Come on, darling,” he purred, killing you slowly with your old pet name, murdering you with his deep drawl. “Give me another.”

He lifted one hand and swiped at your side, igniting pain once again. You cried out, slamming you head back into his pillows, hips raising to meet his. It made his cock bury deeper into you, unforgiving and unforgettable.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you hissed, his breath hot against your skin, his sweat dripping onto your chest. “Fuck, Yoongi, why is your cock so fucking gooood…”

Your eyes rolled back into your head and you wailed his name, loud and clear, radiating off the walls, a familiar noise to these walls, a familiar scene. He sucked in a breath and rammed into you, gasping as he came, cock twitching against your walls as you felt his entire body tremble as he orgasmed, chest shuddering against your leg.

It took you two a moment to untangle yourselves, comprehension sinking in. Yoongi climbed off you, condom in hand, going back to the bathroom. You laid in his bed, closing your eyes, ribs rattling with shaky breaths. You shouldn’t have come. You knew this would happen. And you knew what would happen next, because you got up robotically, empty inside, wishing you could be stronger, knowing you would have to go to the hallway and the bathroom to collect your clothes and then go home, go home and pretend nothing happened, go home and pretend you were okay, even if nothing was okay.

Nothing was okay.

You stared down at your stomach. His red marks, crisscrossed all over you. His scent, painted on your skin. His taste, all over your lips. His arms, wrapping around you, pulling you to him, holding you tight.

“There’s no home without you,” Yoongi breathed against your skin.

Your eyes looked away, into the dark place. You visited there less often now, but still; it was there. Always waiting. Always coming back.

“Do you love me, YoongI?”

The question, so long ago.

I can’t.

You braced yourself for the answer.

“I do.”

The sound of rain.

“I love you.”

--

masterpost

-

if you have visited the dark place always remember, it is only a visit. long visit, short visit, but still, only a visit.

[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 8)

<<Previous part Masterlist   Next part>>

Join the taglist in here (Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman)

Warnings: violence, near death experience, suicidal consideration.

With all the information you needed in your head, you ran up to the hotel room. Loki and Bucky were wandering around the neighborhood, handling the “incognito” part of the mission very poorly. But you’d be soon back with them, you just needed to grab the suits, some more information and a scribbled map, and you’d be back on the streets, fighting criminals or… whatever the Hell those two were doing.

It was just a matter of time until you finally got the stick. What did it have that Tony Stark feared so much to be in the wrong hands, you would never know. Unless you grabbed the stick before giving it to him and found out yourself, of course (but no, that would be irresponsible, an invasion, all levels of illegal and probably would result in getting you in jail, or maybe even assassinated).

It sounded good, though.

After what felt like a thousand stairs later, you finally arrived at your room. Grabbing the doorknob while inserting the key, you realized it was already open. You stopped. Was anyone in there? You weren’t the last one to come out that morning, so you weren’t sure you closed it well. Bucky was; and he was generally distracted on those details. He would sleep on them because he can take anyone, he’s a supersoldier, after all.

You didn’t let go of the doorknob, and opened very carefully as to not make any noise. Damn, if I just had my gun with myself this would be much easier, you thought for the hundredth time on the mission. You made a mental note on not leaving the room without a gun ever again.

If it wasn’t bad enough, you didn’t bring any communicators with your teammates on. What for? The last part of the mission was done with all of you together. It made sense you’d sleep on it too.

You stopped the self-loathing on your last few decisions and thought about who or what could be on the other side of the door. It couldn’t be someone who wanted the information you’d already collected, because you informed absolutely no one about it. Not even Stark. And you had made sure nobody followed you or heard your steps. So, it had to be someone from the Hydra base. Someone who would think you had the stick with yourself, and wanted it back.

Basing your actions on that speculation, you calculated the time and risks to get to your gun and suit before you’d get attacked, if the agent was still in there. You could only assume it was an agent. What else would Hydra have, in the middle of 2021?

Alright, you thought. Maybe it’s empty already. I only get one chance.

You slammed open the door and ran to your suit and gun as fast as you could, suiting up with a button, and, in a matter of seconds, you were against a wall with your Beretta 92 pointing at whoever could come and attack you.

Silence and adrenaline filled the room. You looked around, and nothing moved. Not a single sound. Not even a fly.

“Whoever’s here, I don’t have it. I swear, I don’t have it”, you said, still with your gun up. “And I don’t know who has it, yet”.

No answer. You looked around a little, opening some doors and looking under the beds, but it really seemed like you were alone now. Someone had definitely been there; your papers were all disorganized and some chairs were on the floor. The window had a gunshot. But whoever went there, saw there was nothing they wanted and left, not long ago. Maybe you could even seek them with the street cameras.

You walked to the window and traced the gunshot with your fingertips. You recognized the bullet; Bucky had used them before, as the Winter Soldier. Looking outside you recognized in the distance, about three blocks away, the unmistakable figures of your teammates.

A cocking gun in your nape brought you back to the room. You didn’t turn around just yet, waiting for some talking (they usually talk, they don’t want you dead; they rather want your information. Quite difficult to take from if you won’t be able to answer). After some more silence, you turned around violently and tried to kick the (huge, even bigger than Thor) man’s gun off. Instead, he grabbed your leg and pushed you to the floor.

Maybe you weren’t exactly awesome when it came to hand-in-hand combat, alright?

Pointing your gun at him from the floor, you tried to get up, and as soon as you felt him get closer to grab your gun, you shot. You made sure to not actually shoot him; just close enough for him to think you were going to shoot him if he got close. He didn’t get fazed at the shot; didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. Instead, grabbed your gun and bent it as if it were melted plastic.

Holy fucking shit.

Good news were, now you knew what exactly was in that stick. Bad news, it was already in the wrong hands.

“Chemistry works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it, fella?”, you asked the supersoldier standing in front of you. “When did they serum-ed you? You might be experiencing some side effects”, you chatted, waiting for your teammates, hoping they’d walk a little bit faster. Hopefully, they’d heard the shooting and realized you were in trouble. They didn’t know exactly how much trouble you were in, though.

“You do realize the more you talk, the faster I’ll have to kill you, right?” said he, finally.

“What’s your name? Can’t see you with your weird mask on” you said, standing up slowly. “Let me guess… you must be familiar with James, right?”.

The supersoldier blinked in confusion, and charged his gun, pointing it directly at your forehead.

“You have exactly ten seconds to tell me how you know about James. Ten”.

“Must be a very difficult experience”.

“Nine”.

“To be so close, yet so far away”.

“Eight”.

“You know, it’d do you wonders some therapy maybe. To process the whole James thing”.

“Seven”.

“You sound like Monica Geller”.

“Six”.

“You’ll get bored of counting, eventually”.

“Five”.

“Alright, pack it up”.

“Four”.

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Three”.

“I don’t know anything about that James, it was a wild guess. Everyone is called James these days”, you explained. He stopped counting but pressed the gun harder against your head.

“Quit the mocking. Give me the stick and I’ll let you live”.

“There’s no way you’re letting me live. I already know Hydra has some more supersoldiers, and I guess the thing in the stick is the formula, isn’t it? Give me the secret formula, spongebob, right?”. The man realized you were just making time, and tried to grab your wrists. “Took you long enough to notice. Soldiers are not the brightest, let me tell you”.

As he tried to lock your wrists, you used all your body weight to push him out of the window. Terrible idea. He was at least five times stronger, and instead of your original plan, the one getting thrown off a nine-floor window now were you.

Bucky and Loki were a block away, and all they saw was a tiny speck on the sky, getting rapidly closer to the street. It didn’t take them much thinking until they realized that speck was you, flying off the hotel room. Loki took impulse and teleported himself as fast as he could to the nearest floor you were currently passing, and grasped your arm and hand with his both hands, holding himself with only his legs from a balcony.

Hanging from just one arm, with seven tall floors behind your feet, you tried your best to not look down. Oh, heights weren’t your best friend, much less the possibility of a bad movement and instantly dying right there. You could only think in how lucky you were your teammate had quick reflexes, and how idiotic you were to think you could’ve possibly taken that man by your own. He bent your gun with his bare hands, for God’s sake. You looked down, and saw the supersoldier already fighting with Bucky on the streets. Your face turned even paler as you observed how tall you were. Everything was tiny below you.

“Look at me”, said Loki, with a calm voice. You redirected your gaze to him. His eyes. There was a glimpse in his eyes, showing something. Your own emotions weren’t allowing you to actually concentrate on his face expressions, anyways. He sensed it, and repeated. “Look at me, don’t look down. I’m here”.

You met his eyes once again and this time you didn’t leave them. There it was. His eyes irradiated pure and raw panic. Fear. No, not even fear; terror. What was he terrified of? Terror of losing you? Why would he care so much? Why would he care that deeply? It didn’t matter now, for you were definitely dying. His grip was strong, but your hand was starting to numb and you were losing strength. You were dizzy and sweating, frightened. He gripped harder and it pained you.

“Hold on to me. Do not let go, I'm here”, he said. His words were tranquil and reassuring, trying to keep it as undisturbed as he could, but a drop of desperation cracked his voice. “Hold strong, I’m lifting you up”.

“Don’t. You’ll fall down. You can’t take this height either” you said without hiding your dread. Your tight throat did the job and your eyes watered. That was it, you thought. And it was. There was no way Loki could lift you without him falling down too. And even if there was a possibility, why would he risk his long and meaningful life for the sake of yours? “Let me go, Loki”.

“I’m not letting you go”.

“You’ll die”.

“No, and you won’t either. Hold onto my grip”, he assured you without leaving any room for discussion, trying to lift your body and almost tripping in the process. He gasped and you left out a whine.

“Loki”.

“Stop it, I’m not letting you go”, he said, less calm than he’d have liked to. “I’m not letting you go”, he repeated, almost in a whisper.

In a struggle, he brought you into the balcony he was hanging from. Your legs were shaking, as you laid on the marble floor by his side. Both of you breathless, looked at each other without saying a word. After a brief moment, you took his hand and squeezed it gently, not ever breaking eye contact.

“You saved me. Thank you”.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Not Theirs {Steve Harrington x Plus Size Reader}

Plot: You’re getting picked on at school and Steve steps up to defend you.

Character: Steve Harrington x Plus Size Female Identifying Reader

Notes: bullying, low confidence, avoidance of eating, grabbing without consent

Part of my Plus Size Reader x Character series!

Another day, another long day of school was ahead of you. A few years ago you had loved school, you’d loved learning, you’d loved hanging out with friends but as you grew up and as others seemed to get more immature, you’d become somewhat of a target for them to pick on you. At first, it was a comment here or there about your weight. Now, you knew that you weren’t skinny and petite like other girls but you didn’t think anyone would really care? After all, it was your body, not theirs. However, teenage idiot boys and snide girls enjoyed picking on you more and more until what little confidence you had was gone.

You used to quite like the way you looked. You thought all bodies were beautiful, all shapes and sizes and you used to feel good about the way your thighs and tummy looked but recently, due to those comments, you stopped looking in the mirror; you stopped admiring yourself and instead, you started wearing clothes that took attention away from those things you’d once loved.

Once showered and dressed, you made your way to the kitchen. Your mom was making pancakes for you. She knew it was your favourite breakfast and she knew that you’d been going through a bit of a hard time recently (though she didn’t know why) so though she’d make your favourite to cheer you up. A feeling of uneasiness came over you when you sat at the kitchen island to have breakfast. You stared down at the breakfast in front of you as your stomach rumbled. Deep down, you knew you shouldn’t listen to the bullies but the names they called you... It was horrible. Your mind thought about not eating, about losing a bit of weight and maybe they’d leave you alone. You knew it wasn’t healthy, you knew that it would do more damage than good but you just wanted them to leave you alone.

All you wanted was to be good enough, to be pretty enough, to be skinny enough; to be enough. If you were enough, would they leave you alone? If you were skinny, would they stop the jeers and the taunts? Would they ever stop? Honestly, you didn’t know. You didn’t know if they would stop. They knew you were a target so they’d probably always try and shoot you down.

Taking a breath, you pushed the plate away, telling your mom that you weren’t feeling too good so you’d pass on the pancakes. She frowned, knowing something was up but couldn’t question it because you were already halfway out of the door.

You had decided to walk to school, walking was good exercise and if you did it often enough, surely you’d lose something? It was horrible thoughts and you felt like crying as you thought of them but you just wanted them to leave you alone. Your stomach gargled and grumbled, screaming out that it needed food. You rubbed it, hoping that the hunger would die down soon enough. You’d have a small lunch and a small dinner and that would be enough. But that would not be enough, you knew it. You knew that limiting yourself like that was detrimental.

School was busy when you got there, usually you were quite early but because you walked you were bang on time. Quickly, you rushed up the steps to get to your locker. Breathing fast after just running up the steps and walking a lot, you could feel your face hot and sweaty. You just hoped no one would see you.

“Look!” A voice laughed and you felt like bursting into tears then and there,  “Here’s the piggy out of breath and sweaty after running for ten seconds!”

You ducked your head, hoping that if you didn’t acknowledge them, they’d leave you alone but instead, the taunts followed you down the halls as quick as you walked. Tears burned in your eyes as you tried to get to your locker.

“Run, piggy!” A girl laughed loudly behind you, “Run!”

“She’s too tired,” a boy snickered, “that running up the front steps really took it out of her.”

Shame burned hot in your cheeks as a lump rose in your throat. If you could get to your locker, throw your things in and get to class you’d be okay. If you tried to ignore them, but ignoring them seemed useless. Their taunts and comments grew louder, their laughter boomed and echoed in the hallways. They knew you were upset and they thrived on that, they loved holding that power over you so they would do more, say more and act out more.

They got braver when you were upset and one took the chance to run up behind you and grab you from behind, spinning you around, pulling your jumper up to reveal your stomach and grabbing at your folds, “Look at all this ugly flab!”

You yelped, shoving out of his grasp and flying to the opposite side of the hall. You couldn’t help the tears now after the violation of your body. You sucked in fast breaths and almost didn’t hear the heavy footsteps and the, “What the fuck, dude?!”

Through blurry vision, you made out that Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was towering over the group of bullies, “Just a bit of fun, Steve.”

“Does that looks like (y/n)’s had fun? You’ve just grabbed her and violated her without consent. All of you are jerks.”

“C’mon, man, she was asking for it-”

Steve’s hand clenched into a fist and he swung for the boy. He hit the boy square in the jaw, the sound making you jump slightly. The group scattered,  “What the fuck?!” Steve hissed as he shook his hand.

“She wasn’t asking for it. She wasn’t asking for you to violate her. She was walking the halls and you were all terrorising her. Scram before I hit you again.” The boy was muttering under his breath about Steve as he got up, rubbing his jaw and rushed away.

You stayed, back pressed against the lockers, breathing heavy as the tears wouldn’t stop falling. Steve came towards you, whole demeanour changing as he stopped in front of you, “Are you okay?” You only managed to shake your head, “I’m gonna get you outta here, okay? Can I touch you?” You nodded, allowing him your consent to wrap an arm around you shoulders and guide you from the school. You let him help you into his car and that’s where you truly just broke down.

Steve let you. He didn’t ask anything of you, he didn’t start the car; he just let you get out all of those emotions. He grabbed his bag that was in the backseat, pulling out tissues and a bottle of water. He placed them beside you for when you were ready. You couldn’t stop crying. You felt dirty; violated. How dare they touch you like that? You felt horrible, your skin crawled and the deep self loathing you felt was awful.

It was a long time later when you managed to calm down enough to talk, “Thank you,” you whispered after taking a long drink of water to hydrate yourself, “You- You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” he said, nodding, “Course I had to. You think I’m gonna let them grab you like that and say that stuff to you without stepping in? No way. It’s not gonna happen again, I promise you.”

You looked at him, lip trembling. You and Steve had barely spoken before, you’d maybe spoken a handful of times and that was in class. You didn’t know why he’d stuck up for you, why he’d just punched a boy for you and now he was skipping school with you.

“You know, they’re lying, right?” He said quietly, “What they were saying about you - you’re not ugly, you’re not a pig... They’re the ugly ones.”

You scoffed, looking out of the window to look at the school, “(y/n), I’m being serious, you’re not-”

“Why do you care, Steve?” You snapped, “Why do you care about what they call me, about what they’ve done? We’re not friends!” You really didn’t mean it, you really didn’t mean to be so angry and upset at him. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t hurt you but he was the only one here so he was getting your anger.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t fazed by the sudden outburst but instead said, “I care because you don’t deserve that. How dare they touch you and violate you like that? How dare they have that much power of you? They bully you every day and you do nothing to anyone. You sit in class, tapping your pen on the desk when you’re thinking and end up throwing the cap off it by accident constantly because you’re too concentrated when you’re doing it and you don’t do anything to anyone-”

“How do you know that?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Come on, I’ve sat behind you for two years in Geography, I know a little about you even though we’re not friends. Besides, it’s your body, not theirs. They should never hold an opinion on your body, they should never bat an eyelid. You are beautiful.”

The statement caught you off guard, the way he stared deeply into your eyes caught you off guard too. You knew he was telling the truth, “You mean that?”

“Being beautiful isn’t purely outer appearance, it’s everything; personality, manners, whatever else. So what if you’ve got extra weight on your bones? You think that makes you unlovable? You think that makes you ugly? No way in hell,” he scoffed loudly, “the only way you’d be unlovable was if you turned into those bullies.” When he finished, he gave you a curt nod and turned to look out the window, frightened of your reactions. He’d ranted and spoken a lot about you candidly for someone who didn’t really know you but it touched you.

“Thank you,” you said softly, “for defending me, for punching that dick-” Steve laughed, “for letting me cry in your car... Thank you for asking to touch me.”

“No one should ever make you feel that way.”

You looked at each other when your stomach grumbled loudly, once again begging for food. Steve laughed again, “Have you eaten today?” You shook your head, “Wanna go get a burger?”

“I-” you faltered, hands instinctively moving to your stomach. Steve reached out but stopped when he was centimetres away. You looked at him and nodded, allowing him to do what he wanted.

He took your hands gently, “You don’t have to be self conscious about anything in front of me, (y/n),” he murmured, “I find you more attractive than anyone in that school, I think you’re beautiful. Please, don’t hide.” You would’ve cried if you had anymore tears left in you to cry. He spoke to honestly and openly, a real change of pace, “You are enough, more than enough.”

You let your hands rest at your sides and cleared your throat, “So... burgers?” Steve smiled as he started up the car and began talking about something else. You watched the sky from the window as he drove, looking at the clouds in the sky, all those different shapes and sizes and still very much beautiful. You hoped that with Steve’s help, you’d be able to see yourself through his eyes but for now, having him speaking those truths to you was good enough for now.

[keltonwrites]

Where no one knows your name

How many times is a person meant to make new friends? When I moved into an apartment in DC with an absolutely iconic girl from Craigslist, I wrote in my journal, “you never know when you’ll meet your next bridesmaid.” Charmingly juvenile, as I was 24 years old. Ironic, as I never had any bridesmaids. And embarrassing, knowing I wrote something that’s surely been embroidered on a bachelorette party t-shirt by now. My point was: you can meet people you fall in love with anywhere, anytime, assuming your heart (and calendar) are open. Now my heart and calendar are open and I am one of Elizabeth Bennet’s sad sisters, cloying and desperate for attention while everyone at the ball ignores me. Meeting people here is unnerving and hapless and eye-clawingly vulnerable. My first new friend told me she was moving away in a few months. Do you invest deeply in hopes of another faraway friendship? Do you just go back to waving as you pass on the street? I like this girl! What an embarrassing thing to have to say to someone! Do you just invite people to every and anything like a lunatic? I can’t even remember to call the people I am forever-and-ever in cahoots with. I’m also deeply bound by what I’ll call the Movie Trap: say it’s 3pm during not-a-pandemic, and you get the urge to see a movie. You look at the showings, and there’s one you really want to see at 7:15. You think to yourself, “I should make an effort,” and you text a friend. “Hey, you wanna go see This Cool Movie at 7:15 tonight?” No one ever says yes. Don’t give me an example of when someone has, because it’s always one of these answers:

“Oooh, I’m actually seeing it with Kate tomorrow - wanna come?”

“Can we go to the 9pm showing? Stuck at work.”

“Yeah but let’s see Movie You’ll Fucking Hate instead.”

Now maybe I’m just lighting flares guiding you to the worst parts of my personality, but this drives me nuts. No, Liz, I don’t want to go tomorrow. I want to go tonight. At 7:15. So I can be in bed by 10. And you’d have to drag my dead body and prop open my eyes to get me to see something like Marriage Story in theaters. The Movie Trap is a big reason I usually hang out by myself, or I make plans weeks in advance. (Don't I sound like a blast.) Just the idea of being like, “I like you! Wanna hang out in October?” makes me want to collapse into a puddle of sad adulthood. Which is why on Friday at 4:30pm, when a girl I’d met a week prior asked if I wanted to grab a drink, I just said yes. I put on a pretty dress, did my makeup, put stuff in a purse, and drove the 25 minutes to town. It was really fun! And how novel to have new contacts in my phone like “Maggie blue house” and “Jess concert friend” — a throwback to the days of “Greg guy on L train” and “Devon ad party.” The very concept of not knowing someone’s last name or even needing it, and a year from now updating their contact info and smiling at your origin story. But for the most part, no one is in our phones. In terms of phone numbers collected, here is the list:

Two friends we knew prior who thank god you guys exist.

New friend who is moving away.

New friend who is game to drink tequila and ride mountain bikes.

Neighbor-not-yet-friend who I really fucking like and am not sure how to cross hang-out threshold with.

​Not to say there aren’t any other prospects or people I’m platonically gaga over, but I don’t have their phone numbers. There are honestly a lot of people like this because when you live in a small town (and you’re from the Midwest) you say “oop, sorry” to every person/object you bump into, and you say “hi :)” to every person you see. These are the rules. If I drive by you and don’t wave, it’s because I was so deep in a daydream I probably shouldn’t have been driving in the first place. This isn’t acceptable, because in our urgency to tattoo our vaccination status on our foreheads so we can make friends, it turns out just driving by someone can be a viable strategy. A few days ago, a man was driving by our kitchen window and then our driveway, and then he reversed back up to the kitchen window and started waving. Ben went outside — it was that kind of wave. The man had seen from his car a smokejumper emblem on the back of a truck in our driveway. “Hey, are you a smokejumper?” We aren’t. But my dad was, and he was in town visiting, accompanied by the emblem on the back of his truck. The guy said we should drink sometime. Numbers were not exchanged. We’ll call that a node, because it’s not quite a connection. And it’s mainly nodes, waiting to be connected, to have relevance. But first, no matter who you’re trying to befriend, you have to answer everyone else’s Do I Care Quiz. The quiz is employed by 93% of locals to determine how they feel about you existing within their personal 50-mile radius. The first question is non negotiable:

1) Are you visiting?

Variations on this question include “how long are you in town?” or “what brings y’all to town?” or my least favorite and most insulting, “did you just finish Jeeping?” I know I have blonde hair and say y’all, but how dare you. (Also, to be clear, you can own a Jeep, customize your Jeep, mod out your Jeep, and love your Jeep, but you’re not Jeeping until you drive too fast through a tiny town so you can hurl your Jeep over a mountain pass without ever getting out of it.) So the answer to “are you visiting” is “no, I live here.” Which brings us to the next question, my favorite for how loaded the gun, kneeling in the grass, scope on, target locked it is.

2) Are you part-time or full-time?

The first time I answered this question, I didn’t realize it was essentially like asking how someone voted in the 2020 election. The judgment was cocked and ready and the palpable relief/joy/or at the very least, tolerance, exuded by answering “full-time” was like when the sun comes out from behind the clouds on a 40 degree day. I was fine, but wow that does feel better. The third question though does not have a standard hoped-for answer. This is where nodes turn to connections turn to phone numbers.

3) What brings you here?

It seems like the best possible answer would be saying you work in town, and you’re going to begin construction on displaced-worker housing to ensure the people who run this town can actually live in it. We’d have everyone’s phone number. Saying you’re a writer who works remotely and bought a house from a legendary and beloved local who could no longer afford it is really something you keep to yourself. But in the interest of making friends, I just word vomit my entire history. We might as well find out at the onset if I make your eyes roll back into your skull. Not at all threatening that all it takes is a single social signal misinterpreted to be the absolute death knell of my ability to make friends in a town of some 1400 adults. In fact, I’ll share one such interaction. I was hiking with Cooper, about 5 miles by foot away from my house. I was on a trail, crossing a sloped meadow, and a group was traversing up the hillside to the trail. I said hi, where y’all coming from. One girl answered and we talked about the trail. She eyed me up and down. “Did you just move here?” “I did!” “I served your family last week,” she said. “Oh,” that phrasing. “Must have been my in-laws.” “Heard you bought Jack’s house. Such a bummer when locals like that are forced out.” “We didn’t even know about his house,” I said. “We were looking at another house and he asked his realtor if he could get us to come see his house. We just loved it, and him!” She had no emotional reaction to this. “You moved from California?” she asked. (Dangerous question.) “Yeah, got these sea level lungs, haha,” attempting to disarm with humor was a failure, “but couldn’t be happier to be out of California.” “It’s not like this all year. Winter’s really hard here, you’re in for a rude awakening.” “Well California’s the last place I lived, but I’m not from there. I’ve lived in brutal winters. At least Colorado gets sun!” I laugh with cloaked loathing. “It’s different when you live at altitude,” she said, like no human aside from her had ever been literally anywhere. “Are you trying to go around?” She indicated the path behind her. “No, y’all go ahead, just gonna wait to give you your space. I’m sure you’re faster than me.” “K, good luck making it to the lake." Maybe she was thirsty. Maybe she was hungover. Maybe she just has vicious delivery, but it felt like every blade of grass was leaning against the wind to listen. She was with four other people and not one of them said a word. I left that interaction not wanting to see another human ever again. But that interaction, and her intimate knowledge of exactly which house I lived in, made me want to decorate like we lived in a gingerbread house, all candy canes and plum drops, screaming to any passerby that we’re friendly. One of the mayor’s first questions to me was “what are you going to do to the house?” There are rules here about what your house can look like, and I kept emphasizing we bought the house because we loved it, not because we wanted to change everything about it. And now, instead of wanting to decorate the interior, I want to put up shades so we don’t contribute to light pollution, I want to hang a sign by the water spigot saying “grab some if you need” for hikers and mountain bikers, I want to paint a sign for the wild mint by our door that says, “I mint to tell you to take some,” because our neighbors were openly panicked they wouldn’t be able to just grab mint from the cabin’s garden anymore. Without question, COVID makes things harder. Dinner parties feel like dares. Dropping cookies off at someone’s house feels invasive. Grabbing a drink feels like the ultimate sign of trust. But at least we have nodes who can connect who can think to invite us and who can see that despite having lived in California, we’re not all that bad. In the meantime, I’ll be painting signs about water and mint, hoping to garner the benefit of the doubt from the so beautifully, earnestly, and waiting-to-see-if-you’re-worth-it doubtful.

Subscribe to the newsletter at tinyletter.com/keltonwrites — high altitude relocation and renovation in a tiny mountain town.

[remsmoonlight]

— title : brownies n’ breaks

— word count : 2.2 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : cooking is your love language and it’s time that you are able to finally make something for Daryl, protected from the high walls that alexandria boasts of are you finally able to bring that vision to life

— warnings : absolutely nothing, except sickly sweet fluff

oooo another daryl request if you’re willing!!! maybe once they get to alexandria reader makes daryl some homemade brownies or some shit because she knows he’s never had much homemade food if any just some domestic cute shit??🥺🥺♥️

          ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested     　/    requests are open   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Sweetness flows throughout the air of your new home, sliding into every corner it can find to fill and warm. The smell of domesticy is something you thought perished long ago when the world died, but here you stand.. with a fresh batch of brownies in the oven baking as if life rebooted and got set back to factory settings. You move from the oven, small steps to the door to be able to survey the kitchen area once more, blinking as if to erase it from your vision, to be greeted with the punishing sun and the dirt filled roads lined with ghosts.

A cozy yellow glow is snug in the pit of your stomach as you think about who the sweet bake belongs to, Daryl has been nothing less than golden. From Atlanta, all the way to Alexandria.. he has always been one to step up without even thinking. You’d shared many secluded moments together, talking about your pasts and while he has never explicitly said anything, you have created a picture in your head about what he has gone through. The love not shared healthily to someone who will always put his family first. Even prior to the downfall of society, you loved to cook for everyone you knew.

You settle yourself with a book on the window ledge close to the kitchen, awaiting the arrival of Daryl, a giddiness that could be likened to a snowfall of glitter falling gracefully within you.

“ you know, when we finally find a new home. I will make you the best brownies you’ve ever had! “

“ if y’don’t burn ‘em first. “ he replied, the corner of his eyes crinkle so delicately as he chuckles lowly.

“ don’t be so fucking mean! here I am trying to do something nice.. it won’t kill you! “ you argue humorously, your fist balling up to punch his arm with little force.

Laughter and carelessness had been a rarity after surviving Terminus, your focus on trying to find safety.. no matter how much of a dream it may be. The journey to coming to terms with the fading faces and memories of the prison has been a painful one, comfort was not something that could easily be found, yet you found it in the least conventionally affectionate person you knew.

“ if anythin’s gonna kill me, it ain’t gonna be your cooking. “

“ actually, I cook very well. it will be a good day when I finally get to show you. “

An airy smile brightens your features, the burdenless weight unable to keep your lips stuck together. Many memories you have with him are of the fond kind, of course, the course of your bond with him runs deep but never has it been a calm sea. There have been moments where you wonder if it’s one sided, if you are inventing a picture that you wish to bleed through to reality, then you are proven wrong and he does things that you know in your heart are true. It has taken losing friends, a home, finding new hope to strengthen that bond and while you would prefer to take the easy road, you know that nothing will ever split the two of you into shards of glass that will never be able to be repaired. You’re both strong people, but stronger together.

A figure clad in black and covered in grime makes their way up the flawless road to where you rest, your vision could be awful but you can make out his being anywhere. The book you hold is laid to rest, your feet already carrying yourself to the door to meet him. Days had past since you last saw him and you can now feel the chords of longing pulling as you had missed him.

Your hand encloses the door handle, swinging it open to finally land your gaze on his form, feeling as if it had been years you’d not done so, as opposed to a few days.

“ took you long enough. “

“ yeah, yeah. quit your complainin’.  “

You move aside, Daryl taking the cue from you and entering the house that bares no soul at that present moment. Everyone is out with their own agenda or job, leaving you to potter about to your own devices.

Some peace and privacy for even a few hours is something you are thankful for, two things that had been incredibly rare from your journey from Atlanta. Though, the noise that comes with your family reminds you of the moments you couldn’t wait to be rid from as you grew up are ones that you no longer fail to appreciate.

“ did you find anybody out there? “

Daryl shakes his head, you see the trouble that he wears often become even more apparent as it overwhelms his features intensely. Knowing Daryl as well as you do, you know that while he won’t admit it out loud, every time he goes out there with Aaron to find people and finds no one wounds his spirit more and more. While his desire to save everyone is admirable, it’s often a concern to you that it might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and he’s often met with your comforting energy of it being simply an unsustainable trait.

“ you know you won’t always find people, right? “ you ask him softly, tucking your legs underneath you as you seat yourself on the sofa.

Daryl refuses to sit, it’s a thought that regularly finds itself bouncing around your mind as to why he can’t relax even behind the walls of Alexandria.

“ yea’, still sucks though. “ he wipes his thumb across his nose, an unconscious habit on his part, discussing his thoughts and feelings has never been easy, raised in a home full of toxicity stunted him emotionally, something he still wrestles with when the occasion arises.

“ there’s going to be a day where you’ve gone and saved everyone! there won’t be anyone left for you to bring back! cut yourself some slack. “

Daryl doesn’t respond, knowing there is truth in your words but he has seen so much death already, the world gripped by dark and dim choke hold, a little dusting of life is something that has been lacking since it died. Avoidance of feelings is something Daryl flees to when the conversation gets tough, he can deal with  words full of anger and rage, but topics so delicate still feel so alien to him.

“ wha’ y’been up to? “ the male questions you, seemingly interested in what you have been up to, watching you from the otherside of the room.

As if a switch had been flipped, your eyes ignite with excitement and joy as you have finally been able to fulfil your unofficial promise to him.

“ remember when we were talking about my cooking? when you insulted it? “ the sides of your lips gently lift with a soft innocence, you feel the elation slowly warming the entirety of your body at the simpleness of it all.

“ y’ain’t gone and poisoned sumn’ have ‘ya? “ asks Daryl, turning to face you from across the floor where he stood. His tone holds a ‘ blink and you will miss it ‘ humour threaded into his words.

“ I should have! “ laughing at him, you fit your fingers between his and lead him into the kitchen with you.

Touch is still something that sends an uncomfortable shiver to travel the distance down his spine, but with everything you have been through and all the time you have spent together, touch is something he’d never turn from when thinking of you. Your relationship has been a strange, never formal one, but it is perfect for the two of you. Unspoken words full of warmth and fondness are a solidity in each one’s souls, and while you both never shared the extent of what the two of you have with the group, they have their suspicions and theories. But if they know one thing, it’s Daryl’s affection for you runs deep.

“ brownies! “

He peaks into the oven that you have opened, the rich smell of cocoa and heat baking the treats hit him like a brick, a pit forms deep in his stomach. This is different from past meals beforehand. You had gone out of your way for him, of all people. Never could he mentally grip why you have been so kind and benevolent with him but it’s something he treasures deeply. In the beginning he was more abrasive with you more than anyone else, but it used to be his go to defense mechanism with everyone in your family. Softness never being something destined for him was beaten into him for a young age, learning only how to loathe and to only say words in anger. It wasn’t until you came along and took your time with him did he let you in, something you have been grateful ever since.. especially since you have been able to discover the colourful soul that resides within him.

“ y’didn’t have to. “ he replies, his mouth watering at the mere smell of the brownies that are close to being fully baked.

“ Daryl… “ a softness in your response that is only reserved for him is heavy, your eyebrows furrowing in dejection. You know enough of his history to be confident in your placed hurt for him being unable to experience kindness in a positive manner. Your hand trails up his clothed arm and rests on his shoulder lightly, allowing for him to decide whether or not to accept the physical affection. He doesn’t shrug it off, if anything he leans more into your touch. “ you know I’m doing this because I want to, you deserve something nice! “

“ thanks. “

“ and they’re nearly done, so you best take a seat. “

Daryl follows your order with little encouragement, a smirk that he conceals from your view and sits at the lengthy dinner table. He’s having trouble connecting the dots of the dead walking and civilisation ended and the pure normalcy of him sitting at a dinner table about to eat home cooked brownies. Even back when the world was bustling with life and people working their nine to fives were home cooked meals a rarity.

“ so this is what y’spent your day on? “ he asks as he watches you with a spark of fondness in his eyes as you work in the kitchen.

“ cooking is therapeutic. “

“ y’ a weird person. “ Daryl quips, staring at you right in your eyes. His expression gives nothing away, though his eyes speak a thousand words and paint a thousand colours that you understand fully.

It’s lucky you know him so well to understand when he’s being serious and when not.

“ but you like it! “

The squares of the baked treats are uneven and jagged, your features contorting into a confused frown at how they could so well until the end. You blame the knife for the imperfection and flaws of the appearance of what lays before you, however your heart knows it’s your inability to present your dishes artistically.

“ now I apologise they don’t look good but they do taste good! “

“ y’never have to say sorry for anythin’ “ he thoughtless says, his mind to preoccupied with the food laid before him.

A picture painted by his mind long ago had you as the perfect person, it’s comforting to know the flaws you have are nothing short of charming in your own little way. With the lack of elegance associated with him, his fingers dig into the irregular shape of the brownie and shoves half of it  into his mouth.

You watch him with your breath holding itself, never have you been a person who has wanted to impress but when it comes to Daryl? You find yourself wanting to do that and more.

“ well? “

He nods with his mouth full, unable to formulate his words. His jokes about your cooking being bad have been nothing more than that, jokes. But even as he’s consuming the small squares he’s surprised at how good they taste, better than he could even imagine.

“ ain’t half bad. “

“ in Daryl speak that means they’re pretty damn great, huh? “ you question him rhetorically, amusement dancing on each word you speak as you gaze steadily on his form.

“ well y’didn’t burn the house down. “

Your mouth opens and eyes widen considerably as your expression twists from being filled to the brim of affection to one of shock, aghast at his jovial words. The laughter tumbles carelessly from your lips as you reach across to swat his arm playfully.

“ you are so rude! “

He joins in with your laughter, a sight so infrequent that you wish you could burn the image into your mind with no chance of being erased by time. It’s moments like these, where you truly feel like the only two people in the world, stolen moments you hold close to your heart. You hope that you will reach a space where you both will be able to freely express your feelings, while the mutual affection is known between the both of you, sometimes you want to use words. So he knows, because it’s something he deserves. To know how much he is loved, without cowering away from the subject.

“ nah I’m just kiddin’. thanks, I mean it. “

[hlizr50]

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 7

Cassian provides comic relief.

And Gwyn and Az spar for the first time since... everything.

Read on AO3

“Well today was interesting.” Nesta raised a brow. Gwyn chose to play dumb.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugged. Her head wasn’t really there, she knew, and her friend could have seen it from miles away.

“Gwyneth Berdara!” Nesta huffed, crossing her arms. “I held you last night as you cried over the shadowsinger and today you can’t stop ogling each other and grinning like fools. What. Happened?” Gwyn smiled sincerely, leaning in to kiss her sister on the cheek.

“I love you, and I will forever be grateful that you are by my side. And that you stalked straight into that study and gave him hell,” the priestess laughed. “We talked last night. I found him in the training ring.”

Gwyn and Nesta sat on the sofa in the library, legs tucked beneath them. Training had ended and hour before and Nesta had practically dragged the redhead inside after being caught in the middle of one-too-many sidelong glances between the priestess and the shadowsinger. Nesta’s ice-gray stare bore into her through narrowed eyes.

“So what? You’re miserable for three weeks and he says he’s sorry and magically everything is fine? I’m disappointed, Berdara.” Nesta scowled. “I wanted you to at least make him squirm a little.”

Gwyn’s head rocked back as she laughed, likely the most genuine mirth she’d experienced in weeks. “Don’t worry, dear Valkyrie. He’s not off the hook yet.” She felt her nose crinkle as her friend’s eyebrows lifted again, this time in surprise.

“Explain, Gwyneth,” she commanded.

“Well,” Gwyn paused, contemplating how to keep the story succinct. “I made him explain himself, and he walked me through his past. He said he wouldn’t blame me if I couldn’t forgive him, but that he cares for me… as more than a friend. And I told him I felt the same.” Her heart swelled just as it had the night before, a quiet confession she hadn’t been sure she ever wanted to hear. Not unless it was from Azriel.

“WHAT?!” Nesta shot to her feet and began pacing excitedly in front of the fireplace with her hands covering her mouth. Then she stopped, turning to Gwyn and leaning on the plush armrest. “So are you an item now?”

“No.” Gwyn’s smile was smug as her friend groaned dramatically and collapsed playfully over the sofa arm. “Not yet, at least.” Nesta lifted her head.

“Oh?”

“I told him that things would go back to how they were before this necklace debacle. That’s how our relationship developed in the first place.” She absentmindedly fingered the pendant as she spoke. “He has to prove to me that he won’t fall into this cycle of guilt and self-loathing and deciding for me what I want or deserve. And once I can trust that he won’t push me away like that we’ll find out what’s next.”

“Darling priestess, I’m impressed!” Nesta pushed herself back upright, leaning once again on the couch. “What did he say?”

Gwyn felt the heat in her cheeks as she recalled the roughness of his declaration, his voice unlike any other time she’d heard him speak.

“He swore to me that he would.”

“He swore? Cauldron, Gwyn, you have him wrapped around your finger already!”

“And then I hugged him.”

Nesta’s lips quirked up on one side and she tilted her head. Gwyn wasn’t sure what to make of that reaction, like she was being studied. “And what did he do then?”

“What else does a person do when you hug them?” The priestess giggled. “He put his arms around me and hugged back.” She conveniently forgot to mention that he’d seemed to breathe her in after that. That it had felt like he was trying to pull her so far into him that she wouldn’t be able to pull away. It had been the most incredible feeling.

Gwyn looked to her friend but found a narrowed gray gaze and flaring nostrils.

“CASSIAN!”

The priestess squeaked as she launched herself to the opposite side of the couch, desperate to quiet her sister’s call. She balanced a knee precariously on the armrest, slapping a hand over Nesta’s mouth.

“Nesta Archeron,” she hissed. “What in the Mother’s name!”

“CASSIAN! Library! NOW!” Nesta held Gwyn’s wrists in her hands, lips curled in amusement. The redhead struggled to quiet her, a string of obscenities rolling from her lips. “Berdara, such language! Hardly becoming of a priestess!”

Said priestess pushed off the sofa arm and pulled Nesta down to the ground, pinning the eldest Archeron on her back between her legs. Her victorious smirk fell when she looked up to find the Illyrian general staring down at them, arms crossed over his broad chest and eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I’m going to kill you, Archeron,” Gwyn growled before flashing a bright smile at Cassian. “Hello, General.”

“I’m not sure what’s happening here. I don’t know if I should be concerned, jealous, or aroused.” Cassian’s grin widened as the priestess scowled, even as she felt the blush burning her cheeks.

“You’re a pig,” his mate muttered before pushing her captor in the stomach. “Get off me, Berdara. We have things to discuss.”

“I don’t see how your mate belongs in this discussion,” Gwyn retorted, but rose to her feet and offered a hand to the other Valkyrie. Nesta got up and they helped dust each other off. She lifted an eyebrow at the copper-haired priestess, her smirk creating a coil of suspicion in Gwyn’s stomach.

“Cassian,” Nesta cooed before turning to face him. “Apparently our dear priestess and the shadowsinger shared an embrace last night.”

“Is that so?” Gwyn pressed her hands to her face, trying to douse the fire that was blazing in her cheeks as the Illyrian fixed her with an unyielding amber stare.

“It is. I’m guessing you didn’t know?” Cassian’s gaze moved to his mate.

“You think Az would tell me something like that?” He laughed, sending Gwyn a wink that only ignited her face further. She groaned and collapsed onto the fluffy cushions of the couch, desperate for this conversation to end.

“He’s your closest friend, isn’t he? I tell my best friend everything.” Gwyn peeked out from between her fingers in time to see Nesta fix a pointed glare on her. “Although, it seems my best friend may be wary to do the same.”

“Nes, Azriel doesn’t tell me anything about his love life. He knows I’ll immediately use it to make his life miserable.”

“Gods, Cassian, please don’t,” Gwyn pleaded, planting her hands on either side of her thighs. The Illyrian plopped onto the couch next to her and shot her a boyish grin.

“I make no promises, little Valkyrie.”

She took in his hulking form as she shook her head at him, a smile creeping onto her lips. Cassian was the personification of strength and power, with confidence that toed the fine line into arrogance. With those rippling muscles that were never truly hidden – no matter how loose a shirt he wore – it was any wonder he didn’t have females hanging from those thick biceps at every moment. But she imagined Nesta would put an end to anything of the sort quickly and in the most terrifying way. Gwyn had always been somewhat surprised that the general hadn’t absolutely terrified her, but she had been remarkably intimidated – his reputation, his swagger, his skill. There was a time not-so-long ago when she couldn’t have imagined feeling so self-assured. Even now she was sure she’d never quite make it to Cassian’s level of easy confidence, but she had come so far from that soft-spoken, timid nymph in the library.

“I don’t even know why I asked.” Gwyn rolled her eyes and flopped back against the velvet tufts and buttons of the well-worn couch.

“Aw, now don’t be like that, Gwynnie,” the general pouted and leaned toward her. She crossed her arms and grimaced, freckled nose scrunching at the nickname. “I promise I’ll try to be good. But that’s all I can promise.”

“He just can’t help himself,” Nesta mused.

“Well I appreciate your effort, I suppose. Since it will be so difficult for you.”

“Anything for you, little Valkyrie.” The general tapped a finger on the tip of Gwyn’s nose and guffawed at her glare. Apparently she wasn’t as intimidating as she’d hoped. But she saw Cassian’s eyes soften, amber gaze shining in the afternoon sunlight through the large windows. “I’m glad you were able to talk to him. Nes had us worried last night.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your boys’ night. I never would’ve asked her to –“

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not.” The honey-haired Valkyrie crossed in front of Gwyn and placed herself on her mate’s lap, looping her arms around his neck. Gwyn’s heart squeezed at the casual display, the intimacy of it. It wasn’t a big deal for the couple before her, but… was that something she could have? Something she could do? Would Azriel want that – closed-off and guarded as he always seemed to be? Smiling and laughing was one thing, but public displays of affection? “Shit got done thanks to me. And if that’s what it took to get him to stop being a fucking imbecile then I will never apologize.”

“I think things are on the right track now.” Gwyn smiled, though she kept her gaze focused on the whorls of dark wood grain in the coffee table. “Hopefully.”

~~~

Two Days Later

Azriel’s shadows wafted like smoke around him, an indication of a peace that was beginning to bloom inside him. Although he had awoken in the middle of the night, it wasn’t his typical darkness and demons that chased him out of bed. He closed his eyes and grinned, feeling the familiar weight of Truthteller in his grasp. Maybe his body was simply accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night, now, and it would take months – or years – of relatively peaceful sleep to change that.

The shadowsinger inhaled deeply, letting his body feel everything around him – the cool night air caressing his wings, the soft glow of the moon brightening the backs of his eyelids, the grounding presence of solid stone as he pushed his weight down through his booted feet and into the packed dirt of the ring. Then he lifted his foot and began the dance, a more elaborate form of the eight-pointed star that he had developed centuries ago, mixing intricate close-proximity blade work with feinting, defense, and hand-to-hand. Every flick of the wrist was carefully choreographed in time with a metronome of inhales and exhales, every shift in weight a perfect harmony accompanying the melody of blade and fist slicing the air.

This, he understood, was one of the most feared males in all of Prythian. Every step, every breath calm and calculated – the result of ruthless research and perfect practice. The Spymaster understood that physical strength and prowess were absolutely important, but the ability to predict and bend and break an enemy hinged on one’s ability to intimately understand every part of the mind inside the body. To so deeply know those who would do harm to his Court, his family, was to be them and see their chosen path, ideally before they even chose it.

And so the dance continued.

Azriel felt the skin of his bare chest and back tighten, pebbling as the breeze and the curling shadows wicked the perspiration from his tanned flesh. He loved this feeling, the quiet and cold of the night a safe haven against prying eyes. They were always on him. He felt them as intensely as if they were the brush of fingers on his skin – lustful longing glances, morbid curiosity over his scarred body and ruined hands, abject and wide-eyed terror at the Spymaster in the flesh. Sometimes his shadows helped hide him, and sometimes he loosened their leash, allowing the inky tendrils to writhe and pulse in his wake, reminding the world just what he was.

Darkness. Malice. Death. The vilified and reviled Court of Nightmares personified in the heart of the beauty of the city of starlight.

So many times he had resigned to himself that he should take residence there, in the Hewn City. Too many times he had been tempted to shut himself off from the love and light of his family and his court and let the shadows consume him. He was endlessly grateful to those who had reached out their hands and walked him back from that ledge – a cliff hanging over the raging black waters of sorrow, brokenness, anger, and fear. Cassian and Rhys. Mor. Feyre.

Gwyn.

Even in the solitude of his midnight practice he could feel the burn of her ocean-deep eyes and scent the hint of rain and water lilies –

Azriel’s eyes snapped open and he spun the quarter turn he knew would leave him facing the doorway. There he found the priestess, clad in those leathers that didn’t hide an inch of her, Cauldron damn him. She leaned against the frame with crossed arms and graced him with a soft smile. He could feel his shadows curl under her thoughtful gaze and he cursed them for once again not alerting him to her presence. It took him but a breath to take in the sight of her, not wanting to ogle her so obviously – a crass male instinct he worked desperately to beat into submission. Gwyn seemed to glow in the night, but while her smooth porcelain skin shone in the moonlight and her straight hair was a fire burning against it, he was captivated always by the teal depths of her impossibly expressive eyes. The emotions he had seen there had nearly brought him to his knees more times than he cared to admit.

“Please, Shadowsinger, don’t stop on my account.” She waved those graceful fingers in his direction, urging him on.

“And give you a free show? I don’t think so.” The sound of her full-bodied laugh may have been the most glorious thing he had ever heard, the sincerity of it something he’d taken for granted. The shadows over his shoulders seemed to vibrate in time with her mirth.

“And what of all I saw before you even realized I was here?”

“A free preview, of course.” He let his lips quirk into a wry smile. “To tempt you.” Gwyn snorted – Mother above she snorted at him. And when she only lifted a skeptical eyebrow at him, he continued.

“Spar with me. If you win I’ll let you watch.”

“You must think mighty highly of yourself if my beating you in a fight would win only the opportunity to watch you train the eight-pointed star, beautiful and elaborate as it may be.” Azriel knew his face was tinged with heat – beautiful – and could only hope the night was dark enough that the priestess couldn’t see. He knew his traitorous shadows would be no help. They seemed to revel in his vulnerability with her, always drifting in her direction and refusing to shield him in any capacity. Not from Gwyn. And while she was clearly unimpressed she pushed away from the wall and strode toward him. Her hair fell over her shoulders and he wondered for a moment why she hadn’t tied it back.

“What brings you here, then, priestess? If not to spar, or to watch?” Azriel knew that her trips to the training ring were borne of sleepless nights, demons and nightmares he had not been able to save her from. But he also knew how she abhorred pity, bristling against it much like he did – a gleaming mirror to his shadowed soul. The spymaster shuddered and took a cautious step toward her as she stopped an arm’s length before him. Her eyes had never left his, and he couldn’t see the exhaustion and pain that had shimmered there only days before. But he still had to ask.

“Are you still having that nightmare, Gwyn?” He knew he didn’t need to explain further, knew that she would understand his ask. He flared his wings, trying to ease the tension between his shoulders that had lodged there as he recalled the wrenching shame of the night he’d been made aware of the full extent of her suffering, the consequence of his stupidity.

Her straight copper hair swished around her face as she shook her head. Azriel felt the unimaginable weight lifting from him as the corners of Gwyn’s mouth ticked up in a gentle smile. A shadow broke away and twirled through a loose tendril that had fallen over her cheek, as if boasting to its master that it could caress her skin and he could not. Azriel’s throat bobbed as he made to speak, but the Valkyrie beat him to it.

“Are we sparring or not, Shadowsinger?” Gwyn stepped away from him, giving herself space to execute a few quick stretches. “If you are to be believed, my viewing pleasure hangs in the balance.”

The spymaster rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t live that down for awhile. He kept silent as he centered himself, rolling his neck and shoulders as he waited for the priestess to take her fighting stance. She deftly wove her hair into an easy plait and tied the end with her ever-present white ribbon.

“Do you just keep a ribbon on you at all times?” Azriel teased.

“I’m always prepared, Shadowsinger.” Gwyn’s eyes narrowed as she answered matter-of-factly. “It’s practically my signature now.” And although the Illyrian chuckled and shook his head, he was inwardly marveling at how she could be so strong and bold and brave and yet still be… adorable.

As Gwyn lowered her hands to her sides, she took a breath. Azriel watched, transfixed, as she seemed to transform in the pale blues and grays of the moonlight upon the stone. Her eyes fluttered shut and she squared her shoulders, breathing in with a patient and measured ease.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Azriel could feel the air around them as it seemed to still along with the redhead – no longer the playful young priestess, but a warrior preparing for battle. He bent his knees and shifted his weight, preparing for what would face him when she opened her eyes. Even his shadows hung frozen over his shoulders, paralyzed in anticipation.

The Valkyrie didn’t give him time to admire how her incredible eyes had become dark and infinite with determination and deadly calm. She struck immediately.

The shadowsinger was taken aback for the briefest moment, but of course he knew that was what she had intended. Often when they sparred it began measured and slow. They knew each other too well, understood their strategies, strengths, and tells. So many times they would simply circle for what seemed like hours, silently daring the other to make the first move. Or relentlessly goading each other until one of them reacted.

Gwyn immediately jumping on the offensive was unusual, and he kept his eyes keenly focused on her face, her breathing, her movement, in an attempt to divine her plan. He deftly blocked punches and ducked under a kick meant for his face, grinning when he heard the muttered curse under her breath. His grin widened as she moved away from him, chest heaving.

“Winded already, Berdara?” Azriel cocked an amused eyebrow as they circled each other. “How disappointing.”

“My training has suffered a bit these last few weeks,” she retorted, wiping the back of her hand over her brow.

“Oh, I am well aware. I saw Nesta knock you on your ass the other day.” The shadowsinger aimed for that same shoulder, the one she left exposed when she was exhausted, throwing a punch, then a kick, and then another punch. Gwyn managed to dodge the kick but couldn’t fully avoid the second fist. She staggered backward with a grunt.

“I’ve been somewhat preoccupied,” she growled. A pang of guilt struck him, but he didn’t let it show, didn’t let it move him. He knew she hadn’t been training healthily, and he knew it was because of him. But their relationship in the ring was just as much about trust and accountability as it was about supporting each other and fighting their lingering darkness. He would not pity her, and he would not take it easy on her.

“Again, priestess. I am well aware.”

Gwyn’s response was to lash out, sending an uncontrolled punch at his face. Azriel caught her wrist and spun her around, caging her in his arms with her back against his chest. He tried to ignore the feeling of her panting body against his as he angled his head to whisper in her ear.

“Your enemy will not wait until you’re ready to strike. You must always be primed, skills honed and mind settled. Even when stupid males make your life unnecessarily difficult and painful.”

The priestess tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but his arms were strong as stone. But he wasn’t prepared for her to stomp her foot into his instep. She managed to escape his arms, but he kept his grip on her wrist as she whirled to face him. She wound her wrist from his hand and in the same breath he spun and kicked his leg out low, sweeping her feet out from under her. Azriel was upon her as soon as her back hit the ground, thighs straddling her stomach. Her loss of breath made it easy for him to grab her wrists and pin them to her chest.

“You must always take care of yourself, Gwyneth Berdara. Always be at your best. There must never be defeat for you. You will not falter. You will not be taken. Is that clear?” His voice had become thick as his throat tightened, the shadowsinger only just realizing the implications of her deterioration over the previous weeks. What if there had been an attack? What if something had happened? Gwyn would have been in no condition to fight. That was not a prospect he was willing to entertain. “Is that clear, Berdara?”

“Yes.” Gwyn’s answer was barely a whisper between gulping breaths. Pink stained her cheeks, but he couldn’t tell if that was from his fierce command, their compromising position, or the physical exertion. Azriel didn’t immediately release her wrists and instead leaned back onto his heels to stand. As he rose and stepped backwards over her legs he pulled her to her feet.

“You’re out of practice, priestess,” he scolded, chuckling as she scowled and pulled her arms away from him. She strode over to the water table and poured a cup from one of the half-empty pitchers left from training. Azriel had expected a retort, and when she didn’t fling one he took his time to join her, first retrieving his discarded shirt from the other side of the ring. They stood in silence, letting the night breeze cool their skin and steady their breathing. Gwyn’s teal gaze drifted to the city below, a rainbow of twinkling lights in competition with the black starlit sky. The shadowsinger was content to be silently near her, present for whatever support she needed. He took the chance to appreciate her lovely face in profile, the moonlight illuminating the freckles painted across her cheeks.

“There wasn’t any real reason for me to come up here tonight,” Gwyn admitted softly, keeping her eyes focused out into the night. “I just… wanted to see if you would be here. I wanted to spar with you again, finally. Like we used to.”

Azriel took a moment to soak himself in her confession and allowed the guilt to wash over him briefly. That there was even a shred of insecurity inside her, the smallest thought that he wouldn’t be there for her. He would snuff out those thoughts if it took him another five centuries. “I told you I would prove it to you, that I would earn your trust again. It felt… right. Tonight, I mean.” And then that beautiful smile graced her full lips. She still didn’t turn to him, but he knew without seeing how that smile would light up her eyes. His shadows lazily churned, basking in her contentment, and the shadowsinger allowed himself to delight in the golden spark of hope in his chest when his priestess finally answered.

“Yes. It does feel right.”

Tag list: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @katiebellf @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430 @live-the-fangirl-life

[mochegato]

Pixie Spy

Chapter 10

Chapter 1     Chapter 9

Marinette shuffled her feet in the hallway.  She smoothed her hair again, as if it could have somehow gotten messy since the last time she checked it, less than a minute before during which time she hadn’t moved from the spot she was in. Content that her hair wouldn’t embarrass her, at least not more than normal, she smoothed over her outfit to make sure everything was in place despite the fact that Jason had seen it earlier in the day getting whipped around in the akuma induced wind.  

Finally she reasoned that she couldn’t put it off anymore.  She took a deep breath to steel herself.  For what, she wasn’t sure.  It made no sense to be nervous and she knew that.  It didn’t relieve the anxiety though.  She was giving him the news he wanted to hear, the news he had asked to hear. So why was she nervous?

She stared at her fist, poised to knock on the door but frozen inches away.  She slowly lowered her hand, the confused look staying on her face.  He was going to get to stay.  He was going to be near her, but what if that wasn’t what he really wanted?  What if he changed his mind once he actually spent time with her?

She stared at the space her hand had been. Was that why she was nervous?  No, her anxiety wasn’t about her love life, not this time.  This was something else.  This was about something more.  Telling him made it all real.  Everything would change and she had argued the change would be for the better.  She couldn’t afford to be wrong about it and it wasn’t up to her.  It all depended on Jason and really, she didn’t know him.  She had bet the world’s future on someone she didn’t know.  

On top of that, for him to really work with the rest of the team, they needed to know what happened with the Lazarus Pit.  And as soon as she knocked, she was going to have to start that conversation.  She was going to have to dredge up painful memories and she loathed the idea of doing that.  The idea physically pained her.

She took a few deep breaths and looked back up at the door with a newfound resolve.  She was Ladybug for fuck’s sake.  She could handle a difficult conversation about emotionally excruciating events.  That was a significant part of her job after all.  People didn’t become akumas because of fun, happy experiences.  And she didn’t know everything about Jason, but she knew him.  She knew he would help.  She knew he was the right choice.  She looked back at the door and knocked loudly.  She silently congratulated herself for her small but significant victory.  She could do this.  She was Ladybug.  She could do this.

Jason opened the door after a minute with an apologetic smile.  “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”  He opened the door to let her through, but she was frozen in her spot.  Her mouth dropped open.  He had clearly just gotten back from working out.  His arms were on full display in his sleeveless shirt and his loose, grey sweatpants clung to his muscular thighs.  His arm muscles looked even more pronounced with the light catching the sheen of sweat covering them.  And God, his arms were bigger than her head.  She stared at them in wonder.  She couldn’t do this.  Who the fuck did she think she was thinking she could do this?

Jason grinned smugly at her reaction.  He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest, making sure to put his fists under his biceps to make them appear larger.  His muscles definitely didn’t need any help to look enormous, but he wanted to impress her and see just how distracted he could make her.  “Like what you see?”

“Yes.”  The answer came out before she even thought about the question.  Her eyes snapped up to his, her cheeks blazing red. His smug smile grew into a deep laugh. She narrowed her eyes at him noticing the smug smile.  “Come on lover boy. The rest of the team is waiting to talk with you and the supermodel has a photoshoot in the morning so he's in a rush to get home and sleep.”

“Supermodel?” Jason’s smile faltered, suddenly less secure in his approach to distract her.

“Yep,” she said with a smirk popping the p.  “Told you it takes more than a pretty face.”

“Good thing I have this body too.”  He grinned again, motioning to himself.

She puckered her lips.  “Did I mention the shoot is for a fragrance, so it will be shirtless?  That’s one of the reasons they chose him.”  He didn’t need to know it was mostly because it was for his dad.  But even if it wasn’t, Adrien’s body was amazing.  That said… Jason’s body was perfect.  Looking at it made her feel like she was going to burst into flames.  Looking at his body and that devilish smile and those captivating eyes, she didn’t think he would even need to touch her to make her orgasm.  And if he kept flexing his muscles like that, that’s exactly what might happen.

“So,” he leaned a bit closer to her so he was in her personal space, bringing her eyes back to his, “what does it take, exactly?”

She pushed him away with a finger on his chest in one of the few dry patches on his shirt.  “Well first of all, someone who doesn't waste my time. Hurry up, Hagrid. They’re waiting and I want to talk a bit before we go.”  She looked him up and down again.  “But, I’m not doing that while you’re sweaty.”

He chuckled and moved to let her in again. She took him up on his offer this time, giving him a wide berth to both keep away from the sweat and keep herself from reaching out to run her hands along his chest as she passed.  “I just need to take a quick shower and I’ll be ready.” He turned to her and gave her devious smirk.  “You’re welcome to join me if you want.”

She quirked her lips to the side and narrowed her eyes at him as though analyzing him.  “I get the feeling you wouldn't know what to do if I actually said yes.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise before grinning seductively at her.  “I wouldn't believe my luck, but I have all kinds of ideas about what we can do. Been thinking about them since we met.”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Marinette blushed deeply and looked away.  “Just… Just hurry up André the Giant. They don't like to be kept waiting.”  

Jason chuckled and started walking out of the room with a small mock bow. “As you wish.”

“And if I got my hands on you we would definitely be late,” she said loudly enough for him to hear her.  She smirked proudly when Jason tripped on nothing, almost falling into the doorframe to the next room.

“You're going to make me take longer in the shower of you keep that up.” He shook his finger at her and kept walking before she could reply.  

As soon as Jason left the room Marinette pulled out her phone and texted Alya.  ‘His body should be illegal.  I can’t breathe anymore.  Thinking about just one of his muscles is going to give me an aneurism.’  

Marinette’s phone pinged almost immediately with Alya’s response.  ‘WTF happened?’

‘He answered the door sweaty and in workout clothes, showing off for me.  I think I died.  Did you see ladybugs flying around, because I’m pretty sure I died and came back.’

‘I’m not sure you’re the best judge.  I think I need to see for myself.’  Marinette could just see the smirk on Alya’s face.

Marinette narrowed her eyes at the phone.  ‘No! Back off.  Mine.  I will cut you.  But he’s going to take a shower so expect a delay.’  

‘Without you? Rude’

Marinette snorted and tucked her phone back in her pocket.  She walked over to the balcony doors and looked out over her city, trying very hard not to think about the water she could hear running.  Just a few feet away, okay more than just ‘a few’, but still not many, he was naked and washing himself… Nope!  She shook her head.  Not going to think about that right now.  She needed to distract herself.

She looked around the room to see if there was anything she could use to preoccupy herself for the next few minutes.  She gave the room a sweep.  Nope.  Nothing. Bastard is going to just let her sit out there with nothing to do but imagine his naked body.  She groaned and fell back over the armrest of the couch, hair splaying out over the cushions and legs kicking idly over the armrest.  

Why couldn’t an akuma strike now?  But nooooo.  They never happen when it would be helpful.  They are also bastards.  Well, not them.  It wasn’t their faults.  Hawkmoth and Argus were the bastards.  And she was the bastard because she couldn’t stop them.  And Constantine was the bastard because… so many reasons, but primarily right now, because he’s the one to put her in this situation in the first place.

She sighed and threw her arm over her eyes. God, she didn’t want to ask him about the Lazarus Pit just as much as she did.  Was there any chance describing it wouldn’t be traumatic for him?  Maybe he would just laugh it off like a joke. “Hey funny story, my brothers and I were just messing around and I ended up falling into the Pit accidentally.  We didn’t even know what it was.”  Then he would run his fingers along her jaw and run his other hand along her side until he got to her hip and pull her closer to him. Then he would kiss her deeply, running his hand through her hair and his other hand would go lower to…

“I see you’ve made yourself at home.” His voice was smooth and amused.

Her eyes shot open and scrambled to stand up.  “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”  He chuckled at her giving her a heart stuttering smile.  He cocked his hip to the side, resting one hand in the pocket of his pants and running the other through his still wet hair.  

“Holy shit,” Marinette mumbled absentmindedly, which was the only way she would be able to do anything right now.  Jason had come out in nothing but a pair of pants that were tight around his thighs and she assumed his ass as well, because his thighs were too muscular for regular, off the rack pants.  She’d have to make him some, she thought distantly.  Though it would be a shame to not see this sight. The lack of shirt and shoes added a sense of casualness and domesticity to his sexiness that Marinette couldn’t handle.

His broad, chiseled chest was on full display and she couldn’t look away from it.  She had known his chest was muscular, the curves of his muscles could be seen even through his clothes, but seeing his bare chest was short circuiting her brain. Drops of water from his wet hair were trailing paths down his chest.  Her eyes tracked one of the drops of water.  She was distantly aware of a chuckling noise but her face scrunched up with concern.  

The drop’s smooth path was getting continually disrupted by scars.  There were so many.  Deep ones, shallow ones, small, large, barely noticeable, wide and rough.  She reached out to touch one of them but stopped herself just short of touching him when she realized what she was doing.  She slowly pulled her hand back and looked up at Jason with concern clear in her eyes.  “I’m sorry,” she said simply.  

She let the intention hang in the air ambiguously. Because she was sorry for so much. She was sorry for acting so casually in his room.  She was sorry for almost touching him so intimately without his permission.  She was sorry for the suffering the scars indicated.  She was sorry that she was going to have to ask him to talk about incidents that may have been what caused the scars.

Jason shrugged with a practiced nonchalance. “No problem.  I’m hard to keep your hands off, I know.” He tried with a smirk, avoiding her eyes.

“Still inappropriate for me to touch you without your permission,” she pointed out sheepishly.

He gave her a roguish smile and moved closer to her. “Oh, you have permission to touch me whenever you want.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she answered breathlessly. She couldn’t look away from the roguish glint in his eyes.  

He stepped closer again until his chest was almost touching hers.  “Please do. And I fully encourage you to make yourself at home here.  Please feel free to get as comfortable as possible.  Maybe start by losing some of your more restrictive clothing.”  

“Is that why you didn’t bother with a shirt?” She looked up at him from under her lashes, not trusting herself to be able to hold her head up straight.

“I hate feeling restricted.”  He nodded slightly, his voice turning seductive.

She gasped quietly when he brought his hands up to cup her face gently.  “You’re making it really difficult to stay focused and be responsible.”

“So be irresponsible with me.”  His voice was enticing and his eyes entrancing, a triton luring her into his lair and she so very much wanted to let him.

She shook her head apologetically.  “I can’t.”

“You’re fighting a villain without help…”

“I have a team.”

“You went in without training.”

“I learn fast.”

“You’re the leader of your team.”

“We work together as a team.”

“You don’t let yourself feel.”

“I feel things.”

“You feel responsible for everything that is happening even though it isn’t your fault.”

“It is my fault we haven’t ended it yet.” She shook her head, tears starting to form.  Everything he was pointing out were things she couldn’t let herself focus on. Because if she focused on them, she would never be able to keep going.

“You deserve a break.  You deserve to do something crazy.  You deserve to be irresponsible,” he said gently.  “You deserve to be happy.”

He ran his thumbs over her cheeks and gazed adoringly in her eyes.  Marinette leaned into his touch.  “You have no idea how much you make me want that.”  She gently placed her hands over his and closed her eyes.  His strong hands made her feel warm and safe, but she couldn’t return the favor. “But we need to talk.  And I don’t want to do it with an audience.” She winced internally at how that sounded.

He sighed and let his hands drop, taking a step away, also well aware that sentence never leads to anything good. “Okay.”

“Unfortunately, you should probably put a shirt on while we talk,” she sighed and looked at the ground.

He smiled cheekily at her.  “Do I distract you?”

She looked back up at him and puckered her lips attempting to keep the corners of her lips from quirking up.  “Yes,” she mumbled and looked away.  

“Good.” He grinned and stepped closer again. “Because you make it impossible for me to focus on anything but you.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head.  She couldn’t let him distract her.  They needed to have this talk and she didn’t want to make him have to do it in front of a group.  After a few deep breaths she looked back at him with a serious look. “It's about the Lazarus Pit.”

His face turned in an instant from teasing to unsure and a bit panicked.  “How do you know about that?”

She gave him a weak smile.  “That’s one of the things we can talk about.”

He looked away with a pained sigh.  “Yeah, okay.  I’ll go finish getting dressed.”  He turned back to her with a strained smile.  He really didn’t want this conversation to go as dark as it probably was going to go.  He wanted to get back to the flirty banter, even though he knew it was probably impossible. “If you’re sure you want me to.”

She gave him a half smile and looked away with a quiet laugh.  “Not really. It seems like a crime to cover your body, but it’s probably a good idea if I’m going to form coherent sentences.”

He nodded and turned to get dressed.  She was still flirting with him.  Still giving him compliments.  That had to mean she wasn’t disgusted by his past with the Lazarus Pit.  Maybe there was hope then.  Maybe she could know the worst parts of him and still stay?  That seemed like too much to ask for.  He would just have to enjoy as much as he could, as long as he could. Until she learned too much about him and changed her mind.

After a few moments, Jason walked back into the room with a serious expression, trying to be prepared for the conversation.  “Well that’s not fucking better.” Marinette threw her hands up in the air and turned away.  Jason was fully dressed but that consisted of combat boots, the same tight pants from earlier, and a skintight shirt that clung to his muscles.  She could see the outline of every muscle through his shirt and trace the movement as they flexed.  “How am I supposed to have a serious conversation with you looking like that?”

Jason blushed lightly chuckled, grateful to her for relieving some of the tension.  “The same way I do when you are anywhere near me.”

“It’s not the same,” she grumbled into her hands. “I’m not always in skintight clothes.”

“You don’t have to be to knock me on my ass,” he answered earnestly.  Marinette looked up at him with wide eyes, a blush taking over her cheeks.  

Jason grinned proudly.  God it made him feel so amazing to know he could make her blush so easily. All he had to do was say a few honest words and she would blush for him.  He could do that.  But they had to be honest words.  She wouldn’t respond if they weren’t.  She demanded honesty.  So he was going to have to give it to her.  He cleared his throat and sat awkwardly on the edge of one of the arm chair’s cushion. “So… you wanted to talk about the Lazarus Pit?”

He had clasped his hands between his knees and hunched over like he was waiting for a scolding.  The sight broke Marinette’s heart.  She rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms on her pants and sat on the coffee table across from him.  Their knees were almost touching.  If Marinette were taller, they would be.  It was the closest she could sit to him without actually sitting on him.  She wanted to be close for this conversation. She needed him to know she was there for him.  She wasn’t going to turn her back on him without hearing him out.

“We know what the Lazarus Pit is and we know you were in it.  What we don’t know is why.  What happened that you ended up in it?”  She took a breath and gave the top of his head, the only part he was showing, a determined look.  “What we don’t know is what it cost you.”

Jason let out a long, deep breath and ran his hands over his face a few times.  “Yeah, okay. That’s fair I guess,” he mumbled into his hands.  Was it really fair?  He didn’t know.  He didn’t know if they deserved to know his deepest, darkest secrets in order for him to stay.  He knew he shouldn’t have to expose the rawest part of himself to stay, but he understood why they wanted it.  And if they knew about the Lazarus Pit, then he understood why they were worried.

What he didn’t understand was why Marinette was sitting so close to him, making herself so vulnerable.  If they really did know about the effect the Lazarus Pit had, then she should know better.  She should know how dangerous it was to be so close.  Yet there she was, sitting inches away, looking at him with openness and compassion.  She was the strangest person who had ever entered his life and God, he hoped she never left it.

“You want the Cliff Notes version or the Mahabharata version?” His voice was tired.

She cocked her head to the side.  “I don’t really know what either of those things mean, but I want to know as much as you’re comfortable telling me.”

Jason huffed out a laugh and leaned forward, concentrating on the floor as he composed his thoughts.  How much was he comfortable with telling?  He was still deep in thought when Marinette spoke up again. Her voice gentle and non-accusatory. “I know it must be really difficult and I don’t want to… I hate that I have to ask you to talk about it, to go through it again.  But, the rest of the team knows too and they’re scared.  If it’s too much for you, we don’t have to know.  You can stay and we won’t push you.  It isn’t a requirement to stay.  But they’re going to be worried and I don’t know if they’ll be able to trust you. They…” she paused considering whether or not to tell him what Alya had said.  There was no way he could take it positively, and he shouldn’t, but she wanted him to know what he would be up against, why she was asking. “They think you chose to go into the pit and they want to know why someone would make that choice knowing the price.”

“Choose?”  He looked at her questioningly.  She couldn’t possibly have meant that.  “Choose!” he repeated incredulously.  He leaned back in the chair and ran his hands through his hair.  “I didn’t choose anything.  I didn’t choose to die at that fucking clown’s hands.  I didn’t choose to get brought back at the hands of that fucking holier than thou Super.  I didn’t choose to get taken in by the League of fucking Assassins.  And I certainly didn’t choose to get thrown into that damned Pit by that fucking bitch.” He started breathing heavily running through everything that happened.

“You wanted to know what it cost me.”  He looked back at her with a feral look in his eyes.  “It cost me my sanity.  It cost me my serenity.  It cost me my sense of justice and balance.  It cost me my family.  It cost me my future.” He scoffed at himself.  “Not that I really ever had any of those things in the first place. Never had them and never going to have them.”

Jason looked up to face her, frustration and betrayal clear in his eyes.  The Pit took so much from him and this should be one of those things.  She shouldn’t let him stay.  She shouldn’t trust him.  “Why would you trust me?  If you know about the Pits, why let me stay?” He cried.

She frowned at him.  “You think I shouldn’t?”

“FUCK NO!” he yelled louder than he meant to and standing up to pace the floor.  “I’m the last fucking person you should trust.  And you already said you didn’t.  You just said you thought I chose to jump into that fucking, godforsaken hell water.”

“That’s not what I said.” Her voice was calm and low, but demanded just as much attention as his screams had.  “I said they were worried about that.  They don’t know you.  They haven’t met you so they’re scared.  They know you have the potential to hurt us, to hurt me, and they don’t know you well enough to know you would never.  I do.  I trust you.”

He threw his hands up in the air and collapsed back into the seat.  Why wasn’t she understanding this?  As much as he hated the way his family treated him, he understood it.  He deserved it.  This though, he didn’t deserve.  It was everything he had asked her for; a chance, their trust, her attention. But he didn’t deserve it.   “Terrible decision,” he grumbled at her. “They could be right.”

She chuckled at his reaction and gave him a soft smile.  “I trust you and I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

He scoffed at her.  “You trust Constantine.”

“Eh.  Yes and no. I trust Constantine to be Constantine.” She shrugged at him and leaned back, supporting herself with her hands behind her. “We needed someone with magical knowledge and questionable morals so he was the best fit.  We sure as fuck weren’t going to go to Doctor Fate or Zatara, for opposite reasons.”  She sighed and looked out through the windows, watching the city’s lights twinkle in the distance.  “Look, I wouldn’t trust him to watch my dog, if I had one.  But I’d trust him to watch my back until the cost got too high.  I’d trust him to know when that was.  And honestly, he’s the only one I trust with that. The only one.”  She turned back to Jason with a quizzical look.  “Do you think that’s what the Pit did to you?  Made you untrustworthy?”

He shook his head and looked her in the eye. She needed to know who he was.  “I was untrustworthy long before that.”

She leaned forward, matching his gaze with a fierce one of her own.  “I don’t believe that.”

“Pixie…” he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

“No,” she cut him off before he could say something else self-deprecating.  He opened his eyes to see what she was going to say next.  “Just because you weren’t trusted, that doesn’t mean you weren’t trustworthy.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”  The look he gave her was heartbreaking and she wouldn’t let him get away with thinking that about himself.

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”  She inched forward in her spot, her face closer to his so he couldn’t look away. “I trust you.  You crossed an ocean to help us.  You went against your family to come here.  You saved Manon and August when you could have kept walking. You left on the rooftop when I asked you to even though you didn’t know it was me asking.  You stopped at the gala to help a little girl because she looked sad.  Because that’s who you are.  And I trust you to be honest with me.  I trust you to help Paris.  I trust you to try.  I trust you to protect us.  I trust you to sit out as long as you can stand it.  I trust you to fight until your last breath when you can’t stand it anymore.  I trust you to do what you think is right.  I trust you to trust me.  And I trust you to argue when you disagree with me.  I trust you.”

The room went silent except for Marinette’s deep breathing echoing through the room.  Jason watched her for a few moments letting her words bounce around in his head. He finally lunged forward to pull her into a tight hug and settle her in his lap.  Marinette froze momentarily before she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.  She gripped him tightly as though she were afraid to let him go, afraid he wouldn’t understand how she felt.  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten worked up. I can’t do that here and I promised you I wouldn’t.”

Marinette shook her head rapidly.  “No!  I asked you about something extremely painful.  I knew it would be horrible for you and I asked anyway.  You had every right.”

“I didn’t.  I’m sorry,” he sighed out.  That was one of the conditions for him staying, not just for them but for himself and for Selina.  He had promised himself and her that he would stay calm and the first day he blew it.  He needed to do better and he knew that.  He couldn’t afford to lose it like that.  No matter what anyone says, no matter what anyone asks about, he couldn’t get angry.  

He sighed at himself and took a calming breath before turning his attention back to Marinette.  He hooked his finger under her chin to get her to look up at him.  When she made eye contact with him, he softened his gaze.  “You had every right to ask.  I can talk about it calmly.  I’m fine,” he tried to assure her with a weak smile.

Marinette looked at him with understanding and nodded at him.  “I can pretend that’s true if you want me to,” she offered quietly.

He furrowed his brow at her, poised to reassure her it really was fine.  That was his standard response, but for some reason it didn’t feel right.  It felt wrong to lie like that with her.  He didn’t want to lie.  He cupped her face and pulled it closer to his.  He rested his forehead on hers and shook his head lightly.  “I don’t want you to pretend with me.”

She looked at him with half lidded eyes and licked her lips.  “I don’t want to either.”

His eyes searched hers as he moved his lips closer to hers.  She closed her eyes and angled her head in preparation.  She jumped when her phone dinged, letting her know she had a text message.  She chuckled lightly and looked down.  “I guess they’re getting impatient.”

Jason changed his path and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger.  Marinette closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss.  “We better get moving then,” he agreed just as quietly.  “Wouldn’t want the model to have bags under his eyes in his pictures.”

She giggled at the comment and rested her head on his shoulder, making no move to get up.  “So very thoughtful of you.”

“Yep, always thinking of others.  That’s what everyone always says about me,” he joked, hugging her closer again.

She pushed away to look him in the eyes and cup his face.  “I don’t doubt it.”  She rubbed his cheeks with her thumb for a moment before standing up to leave.

Jason shook his head and sighed.  “You really should,” he muttered too quietly for her to hear.

“Now we really better get going before Chloe skins me alive.  And if we don’t leave now we’re going to be late.  It takes a while to get there.”

“Ready to go,” he confirmed, following her out the door.

“Sure you got everything, General Sherman?” she teased him.

“General Sherman?” He looked at her questioningly, pulling the door closed behind him.  He could not for the life of him figure out what the American Civil War had to do with him.

She nodded with a grin.  “It’s like the biggest tree in the world or something?”

He shook his head.  “What is it with you and all the tree nicknames?”

“They’re big and annoying, like you.”  She booped him on the nose and laughed continuing to walk down the hallway.

He stared after her for a moment before something clicked in his mind.  He walked up next to her and leaned down to whisper in her ear.  “I think it’s because you want to climb me like one.” Marinette squeaked and stopped walking. Her cheeks immediately turned deep red that spread to her ears and neck.  He gave her a devilish smirk and kept walking to the elevator.  “You coming?”

Marinette cocked her hip to the side with a smirk that said she knew something he didn’t and knocked on that door she had stopped in front of.

Jason looked at the door and back to her and shook his head.  “And here I was hoping I'd be able to make some more and better moves on you on our trip.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “You have stronger moves than coming out in just skintight pants?”

“I do and I'm very excited to show them to you,” he confirmed with a cheeky grin, moving until he was only a hair’s breadth away from her.

She looked up at him and swallowed heavily.  “I’m not sure I’d survive them.”

“Fucking finally!  It’s only like ten feet what the fuck took so long.  Some of us have better things than to do than lay the groundwork for getting fucked by our boyfriends.”  Chloe exclaimed with an amount of exasperation that only she could achieve.

Marinette squeaked again and turned to Jason.  “I swear I didn’t tell them that.”

“I will,” he smirked at her moving past her into the room.

She gave him a halfhearted glare and followed him in.  “Go ahead, but at some point someone should wait for me to agree to be their girlfriend before they start telling people I am.”  She gave Adrien a pointed look.

Adrien jumped up with a scowl, “Hey, no.  It doesn’t count as ‘before’ if we never dated.”

“Take a look at the Ladyblog.  We’ve been dating for five years,” Marinette pointed out with a smirk.

“I meant actual dating,” Adrien pouted, “not fanfiction dating.”

“Luka didn’t tell anyone before… or after,” Alya offered.  “He really didn’t talk about it at all.”

“Bri didn’t tell… oh, no, yeah she did,” Nino added with a grimace.  “Everyone.”

“Looks like Jason is your only hope,” Alya gave smirked.

“Too late for that,” Marinette gave him a pointed look.  Jason shrugged not looking at all repentant and even had the audacity to put his arm around her waist and pull her closer, which Marinette subconsciously leaned in to. “Henry was the only one that asked me and then told people.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t last long, so clearly not a good approach for you.” Alya pointed out.

“Lasted longer than Bri though, so your theory might need some work,” Nino corrected her.

“The problem isn’t the approach,” Chloe chimed in annoyed with the conversation already, “the problem is Marinette.” Alya rounded on Chloe, red in the face and ready to start lecturing, but Chloe continued before she could.  “Her standards suck.  As in she has none.”

“Hey!” Marinette yelped indignantly.  

“She doesn’t date people worthy of Ladybug, let alone Marinette.” Chloe clarified haughtily, pulling out her homework.

Everyone but Jason froze and stared at Chloe. “She’s drunk,” Nino stage whispered to Alya.  “That’s the only explanation.”

“Okay, as godawful as this introduction has been so far…” Marinette spoke up ending the conversation.  “… and it has been.  Let’s do real introductions.  Jason, this is the permanent miraculous team.”  She motioned her arm to indicate the people in the room.  “The drunk one is Chloe.”

“Fuck you, Dupain-Cheng.” Chloe scowled not looking up from her homework.

“I thought that was my job,” Jason commented with a smirk.

“Oh, he’s going to fit in perfectly,” Nino laughed.

“I’m Alya.”  She waved from her spot on the couch.  “The one that looks like he just got in a fight is Nino.  The dork is Adrien.”

“Did you just get in a fight?” Jason asked observing him.  His clothes were rumpled, his hair looked scruffed up, and there looked to be the beginning of a bruise on his arm.

“Kind of.  I said…” Nino started with a wicked smirk.

“Nino, you finish that sentence and I will give you a black eye to complete your look,” Marinette growled at him.

Jason looked down at Marinette in surprise before leaning over to whisper quietly enough that only she could hear, “Did I mention how fucking hot you are?”  Marinette squeaked and turned bright red again.

Adrien crossed the room to shake Jason’s hand with a friendly grin.  “Okay, introductions are done, now let’s focus on the important business before I have to leave.  First, what did you just say?  I haven’t seen her turn that color in years.  Also, a correlated question, he’s already telling people you’re dating?” He waggled his eyebrows at Marinette.  She took a deep breath and let it out loudly in a resigned huff. They were going to ridicule her for the rest of her life over Jason.  Adrien laughed at her and moved his focus over to Jason.  “Good to see you, man.  I’m impressed you were able to find Marinette.”  He eyed Jason’s hand around Marinette’s waist and Marinette’s body language.  He looked up to Jason.  “I ship it.”

Jason grinned smugly at Marinette.  “He ships it,” he pointed out in an innocent voice.

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “He would ship me with Loki.  It doesn’t mean anything.”

Adrien grinned at her and shot her finger guns. “Whatever makes you happy, baby. And Loki is hot.  I ship everyone I like with him.”

Alya pushed him out of the way and stepped in front of Jason.  “Ignore him. He trusts everyone.  You don’t need to worry about him unless you screw up… and then he’ll kill you.”  She stuck her hand out to shake Jason’s.  He looked down at Marinette questioningly.  She shrugged in response.  This wasn’t the worst shovel talk they’d doled out and he was Red Hood, he could handle it.  “We, on the other hand,” she motioned to Chloe and herself, “don’t trust anyone.  We’ll kill you when we think you even might be about to screw up.”

Jason nodded at them.  This was a form of interaction he understood; threats.  “And him?” He motioned to Nino.

“Me?  I provide the alibis.” He answered with a grin.

“One of the most important pieces in the game.” He nodded looking around.  “Another important piece is believability.  People have to believe you would do what you threaten.  That’s where a reputation can help you.  No offense but you guys don’t seem the type.”

“But I am.” Plagg appeared in Jason’s face out of nowhere with a maniacal grin on his face.  

Jason flinched back almost falling on his ass, pulling Marinette behind him as he moved.  “What the ever living FUCK is that?” He yelled out.

The room erupted in laughter except for Plagg who continued staring him down.  Marinette stood between the two with an apologetic smile and helped him straighten up. “Sorry about him.  I’d say he doesn’t mean it but… the dinosaurs would say otherwise… if they were still alive… and could talk.”

“Jesus Christ, Marinette.  You were over there forever.  Did you explain anything to him?”  Chloe groaned.

“I was trying to explain things to but then someone,” she looked pointedly at all of them, “kept interrupting.”

“And just exactly what were we interrupting?” Adrien asked waggling his eyebrows.

Marinette gave him a deadpan look for a few seconds waiting for him to figure it out.  “Explaining things.  I just fucking said that, dumbass.”

“Excuse me, but would we discuss the fucking floating demon cat, please?” Jason interrupted keeping his eyes glued to the floating creature.

“Please don’t call him that.  It’ll just go to his head.  We won’t hear the end of it for centuries.”  Tikki floated up near Jason but at a respectful distance.  “I’m Tikki.  He’s Plagg. That is Wayzz.  That is Trixx.  And that is Pollen.” She said, pointing out each of the kwami in turn as they hovered over their wielders.  “We’re kwami.”

“Right.  That explains exactly nothing.” Jason scowled.  “Is there someone who can use real words to explain what is going on?”

Marinette laughed and pulled him over to the sitting area, letting him take the arm chair while she perched on its arm.  “Kwami are what give us our powers.  Each one represents a concept.  Each concept comes with powers related to that concept. Pollen is the kwami of subjection. She can knock people out.  Wayzz is the kwami of protection.  He creates an impenetrable force field.  Trixx is the kwami of Illusion.  He can cast… illusions.  That one’s rather self-explanatory really.  Plagg, the demon cat, is the kwami of destruction. He can be asshole, like his owner.” Twin heys rang out from Adrien and Plagg, which were completely ignored.  “But his power is he can cast bad luck and he destroys things.  Tikki is the kwami of creation.  She has the power of luck and can create things.  There are more, but those are the five main kwami used currently.”

“Okay…” he drew out the last sound of the word, not sure how to process all that.

Marinette grimaced at him.  “It gets worse so I just… want you to be prepared.”  He scowled at her.  Worse than their last conversation didn’t sound good.  “The kwami are tied to pieces of jewelry called a miraculous.  If you possess the miraculous, you can control them.  That’s why the villain is trying to get our miraculous.  If he gets them, he controls them.  Tikki’s and Plagg’s miraculous can be used together to grant a wish, a physics defying, reality destroying wish.  It can reset time.  It can destroy worlds.  A couple hundred years ago, someone got them.  He wished for immortality.”

Jason watched her apprehensively.  “He created the Pits.”

“No, we created the Pits.  He wished for them.” Plagg hissed.  “But he wasn’t too specific with his wish,” he cackled as he said it.

“Making a wish is like making a deal with a leprechaun. There’s always a catch.” Marinette clarified.  “He got immortality, but at a price.”

“That’s why we’re letting you stay lover boy,” Alya added.

“I already used lover boy,” Marinette interrupted.

“Fuck, yeah that was too easy anyway.  Don Juan?”

“Not yet.”

“Not ever.” She said pointedly and turned to Jason. “That’s why we’re letting you stay Don Juan,” she continued.  “Because the Pit restores your health, but weakens your ability to link to a miraculous or its powers.”

“It means Hawkmoth shouldn’t have as powerful of a pull on you, should an akuma ever land on you,” Nino added.

“It also means you can’t ever wield a miraculous,” Marinette said apologetically.

“Was that a consideration?” Jason exclaimed.

“No!” “Maybe.” “Duh!” Alya, Adrien, and Chloe answered at the same time.  Alya and Adrien looked at each other in surprise while Chloe rolled her eyes.

“We never discussed that!” Alya raised her voice in annoyance.

“It wouldn’t have been the worst idea,” Adrien offered weakly.

“It would have been the obvious next step. If he’s here to help us and he has training and Marinette trusts him, which of fucking course she does, of course we would have given him one.” Chloe explained.

Jason leaned over to Marinette so the others wouldn’t hear him.  “I see what you mean about Manon and Chloe.”  

Marinette giggled and nodded.  “It’s only a matter of time before she adds the cursing in too. She probably does just not in front of me or her mom.”

“And what are you two kids giggling about over there?” Adrien asked with a knowing smirk.

“Fuck you.  I don’t giggle.” Jason grunted.

“Too manly for that.  I only laugh in a manly way,” Nino’s voice lowered to imitate Jason.

The rest of the room started chortling in terribly concealed laughter.  Jason narrowed his eyes and pointed at him, “Yes I am.” Causing the rest of the room to give up on their attempts to hide their laughter.  “Okay, so what I’m hearing is I don’t get one of those magical girl sequences.”

Marinette laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “I mean, you could always pretend. Nobody’s stopping you from creating your own amazing sequence when you put on your suit.”

He smirked and pulled her closer to him. “What kind of sequence were you thinking of exactly?”  Marinette squeaked and turned red.  She buried her head in her hands making him laugh.

“An incredibly fucking boring one considering she mentioned putting your clothes on.” Chloe remarked.

“I’m creative.  I could make it work.” Jason assured her with a wink.  Marinette groaned and bent in half, trying to force her face, still covered by her hands, into her legs while the rest of the room laughed.

Chloe eyed him for a moment before nodding and going back to her homework.  “I’m sure that’s true, off brand Robin Hood.”

“Are we letting him suit up though?” Alya asked. “Do we want Hawkmoth knowing one of Gotham’s vigilantes is running around?  Not to mention, his identity isn’t protected by magic.  If someone knows Jason Todd from Gotham is in Paris and Red Hood from Gotham is in Paris, people will be able to put things together. They aren’t stupid.”

“That’s a good point, babe.  I don’t think we can.” Nino agreed.

“We’re not letting him run around at all.” Marinette’s voice was so firm, the note of finality so clear Jason did a double take. “You don’t have magic to protect you and we can’t give you a suit.  You can’t be in the fights.”

“I’ve fought worse things than you can imagine,” Jason said slowly.

“I have an incredible imagination, but I don’t have to use it for this.  I just need my memory,” she said coldly.  The rest of the room watched her with sympathy, knowing where her mind went.  “Because I can remember devastation.  I can remember people torn to pieces.  I can remember people crushed.  I can remember people drowning.  I can’t remember you like that.”

“I can take care of myself.  I’ve fought Supers.  I’ve fought assassins.  I’ve come back from the god damned dead,” he assured her, starting to understand where her objection was coming from.

“Join the club.  You aren’t special.” Chloe snarked.

“But I did it without a magic suit.  I’ve probably done almost as much as you all and without a magic power up to do it.” Jason argued.

“Power ups are a different thing.” Nino threw in. Marinette and Jason glared at him. He held his hands up in surrender.  “Just saying.”

“I can do more than just hide,” he pointed out, begging her to let him do more.

“And you will, but not in a fight.” Marinette responded, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

“He’s going to need to suit up if he’s going to train us while we’re in suits though.  Jason Todd can’t just be hanging around the miraculous team.  That would put him squarely on Hawkmoth’s most wanted list.  Right next to Marinette.”  Adrien pointed out.

Jason’s head whipped over to her and Marinette groaned. “The fuck?”

“It’s nothing,” she tried to assure him, but the look he gave her confirmed he wouldn’t believe it.

She sighed and shot Adrien a glare.  “Fine.  Hawkmoth likes to target me.  Has from the start.  We have no idea why.  I would say Lila, she’s the only one we know of who actively dislikes the Marinette side of me, but it started before she appeared in Paris and we know Hawkmoth is a man.  We checked her National ID and school records.  She definitely wasn’t here.  We don’t think he knows my identity, otherwise he would have targeted me more. So it’s just one of those fun mysteries that makes life interesting.  Because otherwise our lives would be so boring.”

Jason stared at her with an overwhelming need to protect her burning in his gut.  It wasn’t just as a hero that she was dealing with this.  She had to deal with it as a civilian too.  No fucking wonder she was so fucking over this.  But since she wouldn’t let him fight with them, the best way to help her right now was to train her and to do that, he would have to come up with a new identity.  “Red hood can’t run around with you guys and train you, but maybe another hero can.”

“Hell no.  We’re barely letting you stay, and that is still probationary.  We sure as hell aren’t letting another hero in.” Alya growled.

“No, I meant I’ll have to be someone else,” Jason explained.

“I still don’t want you in akuma battles,” Marinette said carefully.

“We can discuss that later,” he assured her.  He knew why she was objecting, for the same reason he would object to her fighting against the Joker.  He didn’t doubt her abilities, but even the idea made his lungs feel like they were slowly disintegrating.  And worrying about him would distract her during a fight, which he also couldn’t allow.  But he was sure he could convince her to let him help with crowd control, saving innocent bystanders.  He just needed a bit of time and the right approach.  “But for training and patrol and investigations, another identity would help.”  He was specifically thinking about when he was breaking into different places, but she didn’t need to know that.  But the way Chloe was eying him, he had a feeling she knew what he meant.

“Like Red Bat?” Nino suggested.

“No, nothing bat related, just to be safe.” Jason shook his head.

“Oooh, Red Cat!” Adrien exclaimed, bouncing in his seat at the idea.

“Hell no.  I would never hear the end of it.”

“Red Turtle?” Nino suggested with a smile. “Raphael?”

“Oooh, Red Fox!” Alya offered loudly.  She froze almost immediately realizing what that would be.  “No wait… forget I said that.”

There was a pause as people thought of a name. “Don’t look at me,” Chloe spoke up without looking up from her homework.  “I’m not sharing my name.  I’m the only Bee in town.”

“A name can wait.  We’ll need a suit before a name.  I think I can come up with a few ideas, unless you have one already.”  Jason shook his head and Marinette bounced with anticipation.  “Yay!  I never get to design hero suits.”  She pulled him up to standing so she could examine his body with a critical eye, thinking of designs that would work with his body.  Jason suddenly felt exposed as he circled him with no hint of a blush as she stared at him and for the first time, he was positive she was not thinking about him in any remotely sexual way.  He scrunched up his face.  He didn’t like it at all.

“Okay,” Adrien interjected.  She’s going to be gone to the world for a while.  “So, back to the important business.  Second question; is your brother single?”

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