#i don’t have anything to say about grown ass women like your brain is probably fully developed get a grip

[stardust-sunset]

why are people so weird to the actors in the outsiders? like why are people commenting ‘marry me’ and ‘adopt me’ on peoples lives?(i get they’re probably 12 but why do 12 year olds have tiktok and instagram? 12 year olds honestly shouldn’t have social media but that’s another convo for another day) i just read something where someone said they were at broadwaycon and when jason walked on stage some lady screamed ‘take your clothes off’ at him. apparently stage door has been getting a lot more rude and disrespectful to the actors too like can we not? it’s so gross. just because they’re on broadway and happen to be uber kind doesn’t mean it’s okay to harass them! it’s so gross. i wish more people were more respectful of them.

[booburry]

Sam Coe Alphabet

CW: 18+, Minor's DNI.

Lots of filthy...filthy things below for ADULT EYES only.

Saw this kind of post for Astarion and felt the immediate impulse to create one for Sam Coe. Only it was like 2am and I needed to sleep.

So, instead, @5oh5 and I fused our brains (as we apparently do) and worked on this list for about 5 hours, on and off. It was such a fun, entertaining and brain-rotting time!!!

Below, we present for you what we think are the abc-D's of Sam Coe:

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

No matter how you two pleasure each other, the aftercare with Sam is always soft, loving and focused on you. He showers you with compliments, will physically clean you if you are too tired, get you prepared for bed, and cuddle and hold you until you fall asleep.

B = Body Part (Their favourite body part of their and also their partners)

Favourite body part on his partner, I would say lips. Not only cause he always looks at them and thinks of how much he wishes to kiss them, but also because he wants to see you smile, you laugh, you purse your lips at a particularly bad, yet hilarious, joke of his.

Favourite on him? I think that is a bit harder to say and I honestly think that Sam has some insecurities with his body having grown a bit into a dad bod. I see his younger self being absolutely ripped, having appetite suppression from all the drug use, wanting to stay fit for all the action he was finding himself seeking, and also for all the sex he engaged in.

Then with Lillian, the depression that came from that, the drinking that must have come along with it (without the drugs to suppress his appetite) brought him into a bit of a dad bod. Then his focus was on Cora and not his physique but he is secretly very insecure and does not think of himself as attractive (idiot).

I think his hair and his eyes are probably the ones he outwardly comments on when asked? If he really had to come down and choose something, he would, very awkwardly, admit his arms.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Soft or Dom Sam loves cuming inside of you, there is no way around it. Not a full-blown breeding kink, as I don’t think he is actively seeking to have another kid, but he loves seeing his cum drip out of you after he climaxes. (also with his new S/O I do truly see him being open to having or adopting another child if it was what his partner wanted & Cora would be stoked to have a sibling.)

Dom!Sam also loves to see you covered in his cum, over your face, mouth, chest, stomach, ass...all of it.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I take Dirty Secret two ways. One is the absolute filthiest thing he has sexually done and the other is what he perceives as the ‘dirtiest’ or ‘grossest’ thing he could request from his partner.

Sam’s most pleasurable sexual experience was during one of his bingers on Neon. He’s never told a soul until you, but it was just him being used by numerous, numerous, men and women. By the end, his body was numb, covered in marks, filled and covered with cum, and had been completely drained himself. Claims he slept for a few days straight after that day and couldn’t walk straight for a few more after.

I think Sam greatly struggles with his bisexuality, in that he has been taught to be ashamed of it. His father probably always had his son on the track to marry a woman and Lillian would have taken offence that she wouldn’t be enough pleasure for Sam. Because of this, I think this ‘Dark Secret’ would come out in two ways:

If romancing someone without a penis, he will awkwardly and very hesitantly open up about how he enjoys anal stimulation, and how he would enjoy it every once in a while for you to fuck him with a strapon, but fully expecting you to refuse and for this request to potentially break up your connection/relationship.

If romancing or pining for someone with a penis, I think he would be very hesitant to openly engage and admit his feelings for them—at least the first individual able to naturally give him this stimulation as he has never fully allowed himself to explore that in combination with love.

Obviously both of these things are nothing for Sam to be ashamed of and it’s with his S/O’s open acceptance he slowly gets rid of the shame behind these desires.

E = Experience (how experiences are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Tons, Sam knows exactly what he is doing and honestly does not give any hints about his sexual prowess until you are in the moment, finding yourself in a new position or with Dom!Sam pushing the envelope. But just because he has a lot of experience doesn’t mean he has to do everything under the sun with you, he is happy to stick within his partner’s wheelhouse of comforts and kinks and doesn’t feel dissatisfied if they don’t explore out of that. He never pushes you to try anything you don’t want and is very conscious, even when being a Dom, to not overstep what he may perceive as your boundary.

The only time he does allude to his sexual experience and prowess is in his relentless flirting, egging you on in ways he knows make your insides turn, before playing it off like he is unaware of everything he is doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Soft!Sam = Missionary. He wants to see the face of his lover as he gives them pleasure. He wants to be able to caress their skin, look at them as he gives them constant praise, and tell them how much he loves them, how they deserve the universe twice over. He wants to be able to kiss you, to allow you to feel how much passion, appreciation and affection he has for you.

Dom!Sam = Breeding press. Similarly, he wants to see the pleasure on his partner’s face, but in a position where they are beneath him and pinned against his weight. He wants to see your legs spread, your open mouth, to see and hear your desperate moans. He would also pull out just to see your hole pulse from the pleasure. He would also hold you in that position after letting himself go inside of you, just to watch his cum slowly slip out, only to push it back in with his fingers or cock, or both, and have you lick them clean after.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc.)

Dom!Sam has no place for games or humour.

Soft!Sam, however, enjoys cracking a good joke when teasing you or warming you both up. I think that it also depends on how much love and affection he is feeling for you in that moment. If it’s overwhelming, he would immediately slip into giving you praise and affection and drop the playfulness. If it’s spontaneous sex, and you are giving into the banter, I truly see it going for as long as both of you can keep it up.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

Sam takes great pride in his mane, or at least he does now.

Originally he only learned about a hair routine to help Cora with her curls and to make sure she didn’t get a lot of frizz, but then she started nagging him about taking care of his own hair, eventually starting to do it herself which forced Sam to take on the routine himself so that Cora wasn’t worrying about him in that aspect.

He uses hair oil, has some specialized combs to reign in his curls and keeps it all tidy under his hat.

For his body hair, he 100% has a tummy trail and hair on his pecks, forearms, legs and a little back hair. He 100% manscapes and keeps the area around his crotch and balls clean-shaven—solely for the reason that he doesn’t like his pubes getting in the way of seeing him fuck you or your pretty face enjoying taking his cock. He also loves to see your cum and precum glisten on his skin and the feeling of your warm flesh against his with every thrust.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Intimacy for Sam extends far outside of being ‘in the moment’ and sexual gratification or pleasure. He sees every moment with you as intimate and romantic. He would love to be the domestic one in the relationship, just so happy to finally have another person who he can care for besides Cora—someone who chose to be with him. He would love to shower with you, wash you, help you get ready for bed when you were really tired, keep the ship tidy and clean and cook for you and Cora.

Side note...when he cooks he totally has a waist apron on and whenever anyone gives him shit for it, he always asks if they want to cook instead. When they turn down the offer he always mutters ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought. Lay off my fashion choices if you want dinner.’

Also, when you are both alone, he likes to cook in nothing but that apron.

During Sex? Either Soft or Dom Sam has nothing but love and appreciation for you and shows it either through his vocalized affection as Soft Sam or with his details and astute aftercare and praise while dominating you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When Cora was still a baby, he did it as a stress reliever but as she got older and more aware, he almost entirely stopped. When he needed to get some level of release, he found that the shower was the best place. It allowed him some privacy, ensuring Cora wouldn’t see or hear and a contained place to clean up afterwards.

When he meets you, however, he finds himself having a more frequent need for release as you plague his mind with all the positions he could have you in, or you have him in. I think he would also add in some anal stimulation when he was deep in his lust for you – either in the shower if he has enough time or at night at The Lodge when he knew he had extended privacy to indulge in such pleasures while moaning your name.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinds)

I think Sam’s kinks vary from his time being a smuggler and partying on Neon and when you meet him in the game/post having Cora.

Overall, his biggest kink would be a praise kink—both giving and receiving but mostly engaging in giving. And this praise kink resides outside of bedroom activities too. Every time he sees you after any amount of time away it is a small gesture of a smile full of love and pride to full-blown showers of words of worship along with loving and affectionate kisses and touches to your body for you to feel his praise.

Dom!Sam would greatly enjoy bondage, ropes, blindfolds, restraints, gags...the works. What he engages in depends on how deep and dark he desires to Dom you, however, he rarely gets to the point of degradation—save for the very few and far-between moments when he needs to let out his pent-up frustrations 😉

And during Sam’s time at Neon...I honestly think he wouldn’t have given enough shits about himself, his body or contain any level of self-respect for himself. This led him to not really care what he engaged in, so long as it left him feeling something at the end of it. Or he was just too plastered out of his mind to be aware of what was going on or being done to him.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

I think Sam would have a few...maybe a top 3.

Your shared bed. That is your sanctuary, the place where he always ensures to be devoted and tender with you. He refuses to dominate you in such a space as he sees it as the one area where you both can be soft and open and loving with each other.

When you touch down on a new planet. Taking in the new wilderness, seeing all the new wildlife and minerals, skylines and landscapes gets Sam excited—both at the thrill of exploration and of conquering something new. Always with you two travelling alone, he finds a place to take control and this will be the place where he is almost always dominant. If it’s a planet that has an atmosphere, then he will find a cave or covered place outside. If you need to be inside of a space he either hunts for an abandoned building or clears out some spacers—using the adrenaline to fuel his dominant actions and further both of your pleasures.

Moments of significance within your relationship. Places that mark milestones and memories that were tender or special between you two, often enjoying going back to that place or a place that was reminiscent of it and reliving whatever experience you both shared there, being soft, dom or sub Sam.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Pleasing you. Literally nothing else, he is motivated to make sure you have had the most pleasure you can handle or want.

He also gets turned on by his domestic behaviours, taking care of you outside of sex, your praise and thankfulness for that care he gives. Your praise on how good of a partner he is, how good of a father. Any time you compliment him, he gets a little more turned on until he needs to repay you for all of those words and affectionate gestures.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Sam, from his time in Neon (as referenced in the Kinks section), would have a strong sense for the things he did not enjoy or want to engage in, as he either engaged in it himself or was around others engaging in it. I honestly cannot see him going through that dark, self-destructive, time without being exposed to it all.

Also because of that, I think there are very few things that Sam wouldn’t be open or wanting to engage in. I don’t think he would enjoy Age Play due to his dynamic with Cora, and when in a committed relationship with someone he would not engage in Cuckholding or Hotwifing. I also don’t see him being into piss play or scat play but otherwise, I don’t know if he would have any hard no’s, without doing a deep dive into every single kink out there.

It would also turn Sam off if his partner showed any emotional distress prior to sex or during and immediately giving them comfort. Only if they say that any type of intimacy would make them feel better will he then reluctantly engage but normally not seeking his own pleasure unless the position calls for it, and even at times will not seek to finish himself after seeing you orgasm and relax.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves giving Oral the most but also greatly enjoys receiving and shoving his cock down your throat during certain levels of domination. He contains a ridiculous amount of skill and has a surprising amount of dexterity with his fingers and tongue. There are days when all he wants is for you to sit on his face for an hour or more as he just licks and pleasures you, not even seeking or wanting satisfaction for himself.

He doesn’t care about the skill of his lover, just that they are engaged and enjoying servicing him. Sam also always seeks eye contact, whether that’s when your lips are wrapped around his cock or he is eating you out or taking your dick into his mouth. He needs you to watch him passionately service you, occasionally glancing towards you to see the results of his actions with great pride.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Soft!Sam is slow and passionate but he has a hard time holding back as his passion builds through sex. Occasionally he will lose his control and suddenly quicken or harshly slam into you or push you against a surface while changing positions, groaning at the release he feels before apologizing and praising you for being so irresistible.

Dom!Sam will switch and transition but mostly fast, hard, and with force is the pace he has. Occasionally he does like to go slow and steady, watching every twitch in your expression, but this is normally closer to when you cannot handle any more OR are begging him to make you cum as you are right on the edge.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If the mood strikes and you both are alone, he will be down but I don’t think Sam would be the one to engage in the quickie. His partner would have to be the one to initiate it and steer the direction of their actions.

A single exception, tying into below, is when the risk factor of the moment excites Sam enough, he will take control for a dominant quickie—usually involving him covering your mouth to muffle your moans and groans of pleasure as he fucks you fast and fierce.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc)

As a former, and closeted, adrenaline junkie? Without a doubt, risk is a huuuuge turn-on for Sam.

The only time he will not engage in any type of risk is when there is any level of chance that Cora would be within proximity to, hear or see him engage with himself or his partner.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

His famous line tells it all. This man has stamina.

Preferably you both go for 2 to 3 rounds, 4 or 5 being his preferred. I don’t think it takes a long time for Sam to cum, only that with his lengthy experience with group sex and pleasuring multiple partners, he has a great understanding of how to pace himself and the time he needs between when he orgasmed and when he was ready to go again.

It would not shock me that he could, if time allowed, have you and him in throws of pleasure for hours on end. Only taking necessary breaks for food, fluid and to use the bathroom.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Sam greatly enjoys the use of toys and is pro toy in almost all situations. For owning them, I think that on the ship, whether yours or his, he never allows anything to be on there in fear that Cora will find it cause he knows she snoops and will find literally anything that is left on that ship. At the Lodge I see him having a small lock box hidden that contains a few anal toys for himself to use when he can have a prolonged period of privacy.

Soft!Sam only uses toys for your pleasure, never anything that would have you left looking or feeling degraded or in pain. He will use the toys as an extension of himself seeking to give you the most pleasure you can have.

Dom!Sam loves the use of toys and will find a way to do so. If out adventuring, he will find impromptu items to fit his need or desires to stretch you or gag you, but both of your preferred place is the Paradiso Pleasure Suites as they contain all the toys you would want without having to keep them around Cora. Plus, Cora loves the beach and the resort and keeps herself occupied while you occupy each other in your own suite.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sam? Unfair? Without a doubt.

That man loves to tease you inside and outside of the bedroom. Outside it’s just quips and little playful digs. Sometimes when he can ensure the privacy of his actions, he will grab you in your pleasure spots, and kiss you in areas he knows make you wet, a smug smile always present afterwards with the knowledge of how he was torturing you.

During Sex? He loves the build-up, the slow rise of tension as he can focus on your body, on how he can delicately touch you, kiss you, and build that symphony of sensations until you are begging for a release.

Soft!Sam will give you that release immediately, deeply moaning into you as he does, losing himself as he feels you buck against him, and possibly fill his mouth or throat with the results of your orgasm.

Dom!Sam, however, needs you to beg for it. And when he finally thinks you have sufficiently done so, he gives you that release but immediately ramps you up towards the precipice of another climax, demanding to hear you beg once more.

Sam also loves being teased himself, he loves being edged and left hanging, craving for that satisfaction and release. He loves to see his partner don a mischievous smile or grin with every taunting touch, every luscious lick or flick of their tongue, but he never begs. He just rides that edge as long as possible until he is shoved over into some of the most relieving and satisfying orgasms he has.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Sam is not a loud man, most of his sounds of pleasure are short hisses of pleasure, short inhales and hitches in his breath, soft moans and swears under his breath. When dominant he will growl and groan more viciously and will use his full voice at any sign of disobedience.

When Sam is submissive is the time when he loses this control, but only if it’s what his partner desires. If wanting him to be quiet, he would also whimper and let out small pleas for his lover's touch between moments. If allowed to be vocal, he would give full, guttural moans, as he felt you enter him, as you handled him roughly, his breathing heavy and quick, and his moan from orgasm being deep and prolonged.

However, when it comes to his partner, no matter the position he is in from above, he wants to hear them. He wants to hear them moan, he wants to hear how their breath changes with his actions, telling you or begging you to not hold back. If in a position where he needs to be careful of the volume you two make, he will ensure the sound is dampened. If being soft, it would be a gentle hand over your mouth. If being dominant, it would be a gag. Either way, he would still want you to moan but just so he can hear you and nobody else.

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sam loves to watch you pleasure yourself but is also okay with you masturbating on your own. If he ever manages to walk in on such an act, he will offer to assist or provide privacy.

Soft!Sam would love to watch you pleasure yourself with your hands or with toys and gets immediately excited when you reach out and use him to do so. Maybe placing his fingers somewhere, ordering him how to move, or using his body as a way to prop your leg up to get a better angle as you press a toy deeper into yourself, even using him as the surface you have the dildo on that you are riding.

Dom!Sam loves to instruct you how to pleasure yourself, pushing you to go harder, harsher, faster. Scolding you when you stop and sometimes walking to you only to place your hands or toys back where they need to be. He always does this while sitting far away, never touching himself but letting the anticipation grow. He sometimes prefers to stay clothed, as an additional sign of dominance and indifference, but the other times his hard cock is out and throbbing, his pre-cum dripping down his shaft only to fall off and form a small pool between his feet.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I see Sam being more endowed with girth than length. I still see him being slightly above average, 6 to 6.5inch but with significant girth. Circumcised and a little veiny, two or three prominent veins always popping out the harder and more turned on he gets.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This man can fuck. A lot.

He is always pining for you every moment he sees you, always wishing to be in contact, to love you and shower you with affection, and more. When without Cora’s presence, he wants it daily if not multiple times a day or prolonged afternoons of you two not getting out of bed.

When it’s been a while due to circumstance or company, and you two not being able to be alone, he will seek out every opportunity for you both to be intimate.

The longer you both go without intimacy and building more yearning = the more dominant Sam will be. (Except for situations that would have him feeling overwhelming soft love for you.)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He waits. He waits a loooooooong time after you have fallen asleep to allow himself to find slumber and he fights it up until the moment it takes him.

The moments of him cuddling you and holding you after you have fallen asleep are some of his happiest moments. It’s when he finally feels completely at peace and whole and with purpose outside of Cora. In those moments, he feels like he holds his entire life within his arms.

He also loves the small sounds you make while sleeping, watching your chest slowly rise and fall, your mouth slightly open and when you let out little moans or sounds, he fights every urge to kiss you or laugh—sometimes failing and waking you up to him hugging you tightly, kissing your forehead or top of your head.

He also loves placing his face into your hair, breathing in your scent. I think this is one of the things he seeks out on those nights when he can’t find sleep or needs peaceful comfort.

BONUS! Absolute Brain Rot that 5oh5 and I got while brainstorming this post:

Kissing Sam’s tummy trail only to feel his body immediately flinch at the sensation before relaxing against you, a soft, shallow, breath escaping his lips you are showing love and affection to a place he is greatly insecure about.

His bare ass in just an apron. His partner pressing their bulge against his bare ass as he cooks them breakfast, the soft blush on soft, domestic, Sam’s face as you whisper sweet praise into his ear, the apron slowly starting to lift as he gets hard with anticipation.

SoftDom!Sam eating you out, laying and relaxed between your thighs licking, kissing and fingering you to every edge possible, always leaving you lingering. Waiting for you to beg enough that you deserve to cum, only for him to continue to bring you to the next moment right before climax, expecting you to beg again.

Dom!Sam sitting in a chair across the room watching and guiding you through pleasuring yourself. Seeing him visibly get harder and harder, precum dripping down his cock into a small pool growing on the floor, his eyes trained on your hole clenching around a clear dildo or nothing.

Soft!Sam kneeling on the bed right at your feet watching you pleasure yourself, slowly stroking his hard cock.

Also will be cross posting to A03 because we can.

[thecleverqueer]

I was reading the local news which is always a mistake, and I was triggered by an article that I stumbled across surrounding a drag show at a local museum which, I would imagine, coincides their current installation highlighting local LGBTQ history in the community. The reason that the drag show was cancelled was not given, but the Proud Boys happened to showing up to protest said drag show. Their reasoning for being there, of course, was doubtlessly to “protect the children” from “groomers” and, on god, it caused my brain to snap.

First of all, have these people ever been to a PG-rated drag show? Because they exist. Can drag shows be risqué? Absolutely, but it truly depends on the act, the drag queen and what their niche is. To assume they’re all risqué is a myopic few that, while I’m not at all surprised, only someone not familiar with drag at all would take. A lot of drag shows are just men dressed up as women lip-syncing to the latest gay pop hits on the radio. This is not at all a threat to children. In fact, I would imagine that children would dig the person dressed up in excessive amounts of makeup with the princess dresses on. They probably wouldn’t even equate it to gayness or sexuality at all. All drag queens don’t strip and gyrate on folks in the crowd. Grow up.

Secondly, being gay does not make you a f*^%ing groomer. Far from it. I only have sexual intercourse with consenting women of age. I prefer being with women in their mid to late 30’s or early 40’s. This is when women are both at their hottest and at their sexual peak. I’m not the only one. Most gays like to be with folks their own age, or, worst case, with consenting adults that want to go. The ONLY difference between homosexuals and heterosexuals in that regard is that we like folks of the same-sex.

Third, we aren’t trying to convince your child to be gay just because we want to see representation on screen and in a community. I will say that based on the insane amount of bullshit that I have been through in my life directly related to my gayness (religious trauma, family abandonment, lost friends, micro-aggressions, violence, judgement, loneliness, depression, mental anguish, fear, anxiety, isolation, hiding), I would have never chosen to like girls consciously. I will also not lie about liking a man to fit into this stupid heteronormative society. I don’t care that much. I’m not going to punish myself to fit in. I did try. I failed miserably. Sex with a man to me is much like what I imagine having sex with a tree might be like: boring, emotionless, dry, stoic, lame… as opposed to sex with women which can be literally explosive and earth-shattering. Still, I wouldn’t wish this on my own worst enemy let alone a little child. It’s a chemical reaction. I cannot control it. If they turn out gay, neither will they. We’re not going to blow glitter in their faces, or perform some sort of Jedi-mind trick that convinces them that they want to hook up with someone of the same sex. You can’t be f*^%ing recruited. That isn’t how this works. That isn’t how any of this works.

Finally, if anyone is grooming anyone, it is f*^%ing heterosexuals grooming their own f*^%ing children. I cannot tell you how many f*^%ing times I have seen parents joke about their toddlers having “boyfriends” or “girlfriends” in preschool. F*^%ing really? It happened to me when I was a kid. I was constantly being asked by some grown-ass adult if I had a “boyfriend”. No, b*^%+. No, I don’t have a f*^%ing boyfriend. I’m about as sexually attracted to boys as I am a f*^%ing chair. Plus, I’m five. I don’t even know what sex is yet. On top of this, parents are buying kids gender specific toys so that they fit into a preconceived role in our heteronormative society (boys get cars and action figures, girls get kitchenette sets and dolls), and, they’re being fed a steady diet of Disney stories that refuse to do anything more than veil in queer-coded characters here and there while the main characters almost always end up being a boy and girl that get together, kiss, then riding off in the sunset to live happily ever after. As a baby gay, I can assure you that the lack of representation only further stunted my growth into a well-rounded adult by about 20 years, and I’m still not sure that I’m actually there. So yeah. It is you that is doing the damage. Just let your kids like what they like. Be supportive. Love them.

In closing, F*^% you. F*^% you for canceling the drag show. F*^% you because your d*^% is so small, and your thoughts so repressed that you feel compelled to butt your pathetic little nose into other people’s affairs. F*^% you.

[aemonds-sapphire]

Caution: Slippery When Wet — Dabi x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Dabi just wanted to take a shower, and he didn’t care that you were in the way.

Warnings: NSFW. Orgasm denial. Overstimulation. Vaginal fingering. Quirkplay. Unprotected sex. Praise. Creampie.

Word count: 3.6k

A sudden loud bang snapped you out of your steam-induced daydream and had your heart skip a few beats in distress.

“What?!” you gnarled, eyes gazing through the foggy shower door only to be met with a pair of turquoise eyes.

Dabi.

“You done in there or what?”

Panic filled your entire body at once. “Get the fuck out!”

Any indication that you might be blessed with a peaceful shower session soon flew out the window as the young villain showed no intention of budging.

Thoughts on Dabi? You’d rather not have any. And not because you loathed him. Far from that Your body made sure that the most hostile emotion you had towards him was unquestionable sexual tension. Therefore, you really, really needed to train your mind not to fixate on him or the possibilities that might come from any interaction with him. In order to cope with this, you tried your best to mask your genuine feelings with resentment.

On the off chance your paths crossed while living together with the rest of the league, you always had your mind set on antagonizing him. You dreaded the possibility of anyone figuring out that — albeit buried deep within you —, you craved him.

“Not happening. I need a shower.”

Sliding the glass door, you peaked your head through the narrow slit only to be met with Dabi covered in... slime? From his dark hair all the way down to his boots.

“What is that awful smell?” you grimaced as the foul stench filled your nose.

“Collateral damage,” he said with a blank expression, eyes on yours. “You can thank Toga for that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Go wait outside. I’m almost done here.”

No answer.

“Out!” Yyou half-yelled, feeling heat creep through your cheeks, thoroughly glad that the fog glazing the shower door kept most of your body hidden from his gaze.

No answer yet again.

“Dabi!”

He shrugged and proceeded to remove his knee-length coat showing no concern that you were intensely staring at him, mouth agape in shock.

His filthy shirt went off next, revealing the uneven edges of his staple-covered skin across his upper chest. Your heart was racing at double speed and all your brain could conjure was that you most definitely should not allow your eyes to roam across his body like that. Dabi was too fucking hot — pun fully intended— for his own good, and suspected he knew that

That proved to be enough to snap you out of your trance. “Why are you taking your clothes off?!” Yyou blurted out, failing to realize how ridiculous that sounded given the context.

Dabi paused briefly as he was about to undo his belt. “Not showering with my clothes on... the fuck?” he remarked, arching a brow and glaring at you like you’d grown a third arm.

Panic hit you instantly. “Uh—Just wait!”

His slender fingers unbuckled the belt swiftly. “Doll, you’re wasting time. All that rambling and staring... could be done already.”

He was not wrong.

It suddenly dawned on you how easily he’d always manage to crawl under your skin. Whether he knew the effect he had on you or not, it remained unclear. But something inside you clung to the idea that, whatever it was that you felt for Dabi, it was somehow reciprocated.

Patches of suds began trailing down your temples and forehead, causing further distress.

“Just...” your voice trailed off, but sudden outrage burst from within you. “Don’t you have some decency?”

“No.”

He had managed to strip all of his clothes off until he was only left in his underwear, and he was about to—

“No! No fucking way!” you shrieked in dread, quickly having to wipe a few suds that were stinging your eyes. “Leave it—“

But before you could mouth further protests, you saw him yank his underwear down, which caused your eyes to reflexively close tightly.

A low chuckle was heard. “Calm down, princess. I won’t even look. Just wanna rinse off this slime.”

You were positively mortified from all this mess, and a large part of you cheered in pride as you managed to kept your feelings towards him out of the way.

For now, at least.

Immediately, you withdrew your head from the rack, and shoved the shower door shut, with one hand keeping it in place while the other reached out to grab a bottle from the corner shelf.

Dabi tugged at the door a few times before sighing. “Seriously? You gonna throw a... bottle of shampoo at me?” he drawled out, a slight hint of amusement taintIng his voice. “Terrifying. I can see why Shigaraki scouted you,” he added in blatant mockery.

The sudden confrontation had you wish some random hole in the ground would prop open and swallow you whole, effectively putting an end to this.

Your eyes flew open at once and you glared at the bottle in your hand that read: ‘Strawberry passion — let your senses be filled with bliss and calmness’. Now that was fucking ironic.

Another tug.

“Don’t make me burn this shit down.”

You scoffed. “You keep your eyes fucking shut, then. Not even a peak.”

“Sure, doll.”

Admitting defeat, you scooted to the corner of the stall, your back facing him as you heard the door slide open. You felt him brush past you, but managed to keep your composure. There was no point in stressing about this. Dabi was merely your... colleague? Coworker? Fellow... villain? It came with the territory, right?

You grasped the shower head and raised your arm to have warm water pour down on you. For a brief moment, you were able to ignore the man behind you, and just kept on rinsing as fat as you could to terminate this awkward situation.

Just a few more seconds...

But, of course, life seldom went as planned.

“Sharing is caring, doll,” his low voice rumbled, and you felt his breath fanning the nape of your neck, causing you to jolt.

The sudden proximity sent your brain into overdrive. Every single hair in your body stirred as goosebumps spread from the shiver running down your spine. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt his hand wrap around yours.

You tried to muster a few words, but the overwhelming sensation of having someone you felt so attracted to being so close to you, definitely proved to be a harder task than you’d imagined.

“Eyes shut...” you managed to mumble as a reminder, feeling the curtain of water shift to your back and ultimately leaving your body entirely.

Dabi let out a sigh of relief. “Fuck... this feels good.”

His choice of words had heat spread across you like wildfire. Unfortunately, the sudden loss of a heat source had your body quivering in an attempt to keep your temperature from dropping. You wrapped your arms across your chest out of reflex, but it did little to help.

That din’t go unnoticed by the young villain. “You cold?”

“Ju-just... hurry up...” you said between teetering teeth.

Silence fell between you two before you heard vague splashes of water. “I can warm you up.”

He was close to you once more. Too close. Close enough that you could feel his hot breath near your ear, and something else nudging at your backside.

Your head turned to glare at his half-hooded eyes. “No, thank you...”

His lips were dangerously close to yours, and from that angle you could see the way the metallic hoops on each side of his face strained but a little when he drew a faint grin.

“You sure you don’t want me to fuck you?”

That gave you a whiplash.

As soon a those words left his mouth, you gasped in confusion. “What?!”

But there was nothing to be confused about. It was a rhetorical question from him. You were suddenly aware that he knew. That he had been able to read your signs all along.

Dabi placed the shower head back in its holder, pressing his back fully against yours in the process.

That’s when you felt all of him.

From the hardened nipples to the cool edges of his staples, and all the way to his hard cock pressed against your ass. You shuddered under his touch, causing it to settle right in between your ass cheeks.

“Dabi...”

He bucked his hips lightly, his slippery cock gliding with ease as a deep growl ripped from him. Haziness swarmed your mind, and you pressed both hands on the cold tiles for support, welcoming the water that poured on you from the shower head.

“Say my name again...”

“Why...” you mewled back, swaying your hips sensually against him.

What the fuck...

This was probably a bad idea. You weren’t even sure how you allowed things escalate this quickly. Dabi could snap anyone in half if he felt like it; he could also incinerate anything just as easily. You supposed the dangers of meddling with someone this volatile added to the allure.

And he was aware of that fact.

He fed on it and used it to get you to surrender yourself to him.

“Say it,” he repeated his request, bringing both hands to grasp your hips.

Your eyes snapped open once he pressed a soft kiss on your neck.

“I hate you.”

You mentally slapped yourself for being so weak. Those words carried no weight whatsoever, and they only served to heave a taunting chuckle from him. Even though this entire situation had your face burning with heat, the rest of your body still struggled to keep your temperature up, causing you to shiver from time to time.

Dabi excelled at reading body language like no other. He took pride in being able to know someone’s true intention just from the way their body reacted to his presence. He was no stranger to the inner workings of women when it came to him; he knew precisely which strings to tug in order to get them to crave his touch.

You were no different.

In fact, you had completely and miserably failed at keeping your thirst for him at bay.

And with unprecedented expertise, Dabi had your body to bend to his will, granting you one of your deepest desires.

You felt his palms heat up against your skin.

“I... hate you...” your voice came out in a weak tremble.

Were you trying to convince him, or yourself?

His hands began sliding up your sides, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. You realized you were no longer quivering from loss of warmth; your shudders were stemmed from the way Dabi was slowly and carefully feeling you up. His heated hands moved to your breasts, and without any notice, he had both your nipples being rolled in between his fingers.

Instinctively, you bucked against him. “Fuck...”

Dabi let out a hiss in response. “Sure you hate me?”

He pinched your nipples lightly before grazing his staple-covered palms along the sensitive buds.

“Yes,” you blurted out firmly.

The metallic hoops spread across his palms teased you further.

But before your throbbing clit could welcome the new stimulus, he halted and the heat pooling on his fingertips quickly died down. “So you want me to stop.”

“No!” you protested as his hands abandoned your skin.

“Then what?” Dabi inquired, bringing one finger to trail down your spine, prompting your back to arch downwards and your ass to spring up invitingly. “All these mixed signals... tss.”

You managed to suppress a moan when you felt his slippery cock slide down to tease your entrance.

“Dabi...” you let out, trying to find a few words to say. “Eyes shut.”

He chuckled. “Doll... I have my cock pressed against your ass and leaking for you... does that even matter?”

Of course not. You weren’t even sure why you had said that... your mind was playing tricks on you.

Even so, you weren’t so lucky the second time around, and when he slapped your swollen clit with the tip, your mouth fell open in a strangled cry. You highly doubted the slick tiles would be able to support your body as he proceeded to place his cock in between your damp folds.

“Hold on tight, doll. I need to prep you for my cock first,” his voice dripped with lust. “Be a good girl and bend over.”

Your pussy clenched impulsively.

To say you were completely and ridiculously turned on was the understatement of the year. No amount of rationality would help you now. You were too far gone, and your desire for him clouded any shred of judgement in you.

There was no point in resisting him any longer.

You strongly held on to the shower faucet, in the hopes of it being enough to keep your knees from giving out on you from the overwhelming pleasure spreading across your clit.

He kept sliding his thick cock along your pussy lips coating it in your wetness. It was faintly embarrassing to think of how quickly you’d gotten soaked for him, but on the other hand, you couldn’t really blame yourself for it. Dabi was definitely a natural. You figured he had enough experience to get you all riled up in no time.

You felt him snake one arm around you as his hand travelled down to your pussy. In all honesty, you felt too empty. Even though you hadn’t seen his cock, you had felt it and you craved it more than his fingers at this point.

The palm of his hand brushed against your clit, earning an instant moan from him.

“Dabi... just... fuck me...” you panted in between groans as he teased you with the staples carved into his skin.

Those staples had long caught your attention, but you never thought in a million years that you’d find pleasure in having them brush against your most intimate parts.

His velvety voice came out in a low purr. “Patience... I need you soaked enough to take my cock.”

“I am!” you half-yelled, bucking your hips in an attempt to have his cock placed at your entrance.

The hand teasing your clit stopped abruptly. “Really? Lemme check, then,” just as soon as he whispered those words, he pulled back from you momentarily, pressed one hand on your lower back to have you at a desired angle, before shoving two long fingers inside your wet cunt.

It took all of you to hold back a guttural groan from echoing throughout the bathroom. You bit down on your lower lip, an you reckoned it wouldn’t take long to draw blood. He held you firmly in place with his free hand gripping your hip while he fucked you with his fingers.

“You’re not just soaked... you’re fucking drenched,” he said in bewilderment, curling his digits inside you. “Think you can take a third one?”

You felt another fingertip prodding at your entrance, but you could only nod. There was no way you were going to open your damn mouth. The implications of doing so were far too severe, and you dreaded the idea of anyone outside being able to hear you moan for Dabi.

His third finger struggled at first to join the others. “Tight... just part your legs, doll...”

Doing as he instructed, he finally managed to get the slender digit to slide all the way in, until he was buried in you knuckle-deep. You’d never felt this stretched out before, and the newfound sensation was enough to finally have you let go of your lip and have your mouth fall open in a sigh of pure bliss.

“Now that’s a good girl,” he praised you, while finger-fucking you at a steady rhythm. “You’re literally milking my fingers...”

From the way his voice was starting to emerge fully strained, you figured this was also taking a toll on him. Having your walls involuntarily clench around his moving fingers and hearing him occasionally growl from it, had your ego soar dangerously high. Your entire body was urging you to cum, and as despair overcame your senses, you hand one han settle between your legs to rub your needy clit.

Dabi suddenly stopped thrusting his fingers, and clicked his tongue. “Stop.”

Annoyance hit you hard from the loss of his stimulation. “Fuck!”

His hand grabbed yours. “Let me make you cum. Just me.”

As soon as your gripped the faucet again with both hands, Dabi jumpstarted his ministrations in order to help you reach your much desired high.

“Say my name.”

You truly didn’t want to do that. The fear of losing control and having your moans being heard, kept you from heeding his request once again.

But Dabi had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Both his index and middle fingers pressed against your clit, and you felt the fingertips starting to heat up. He was definitely using his quirk in order to help the heat in your lower belly to intensify. It was a neat trick coming from him, and it was most welcome as you felt the familiar coil of an upcoming orgasm build inside you with each passing second.

“Say. It.”

Obscene soppy sounds left your tight pussy as he showed no signs of faltering his pace. Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth hung open as you tightened around him, preparing to let a peak of pleasure wash over your body.

“Fuck... fu-fuck... I...” you mumbled incoherently, not able to muster any comprehensible thoughts.

You were so close.

Your hips jolted into his hand, and just as you were about to cum, you felt sudden emptiness and were left clenching around nothing nothing.

“What the fuck?!” You cried out indignantly. “Why?!”

The high inside your suddenly plummeted back to the ground, leaving you on the verge of tears.

Dabi gave your ass cheek a light smack. “Told you to say my name.”

You turned your head to give him a death glare. “Fuck you!”

He pressed the tip of his cock at your entrance. “Besides, I want you milking my cock.”

With one hard thrust, he pushed himself halfway inside you, unable to hold back a satisfied growl. Right then you understood exactly why he insisted on preparing you for him. He was definitely thicker and bigger than average. The sudden discomfort had you clench tightly around him in reflex, preventing him from going balls deep at once.

“Stop... fuck... stop being so fucking tight....” Dabi growled, stilling inside you. “Relax, doll...”

Your took a few deep breaths as your pussy adjusted to his unexpected size. He placed his hands on your hips, brushing his thumbs in circles across your flushed skin. It was most likely Dabi’s own way of offering comfort.

You weren’t sure how many seconds passed, but you were genuinely grateful he was waiting for you to finally loosen up and allowed his cock to finally slide all the way in.

A sudden gasp emerged from within you as his fingers gripped your hips vigorously, guiding you along his length. He started out slowly, but his self-restraint wasn’t enough to keep him from thrusting faster and deeper into you. The pace he set resembled that of someone on the edge of losing their sanity.

“You really wanna make me cum fast with that tight pussy of yours...”

His words were like fuel to the fire that once more threatened to get out of control soon enough. Your hands desperately grasped the faucet as pleasure overwhelmed you. A few more thrusts had your thighs starting to quiver.

Dabi had his fingers on your clit once again, determined to deliver all the pleasure he could possibly provide.

“Dabi... Dabi!”

His hips faltered for a split second. “Fuck... such a good and tight girl...”

You could hardly breathe once he set a new rhythm, which nearly had your face getting pressed against your hands from the brutal force.

“Dabi...” you mewled, feeling droplets of water mix with your own saliva as strings of spit hung from the corners of your mouth. You were officially drooling for this man.

In no time, your vision started to tunnel as you were thrown into the pinnacle of sheer bliss. Your mind went blank for a brief moment, with his name coming out in broken moans. The ecstatic orgasm had your pussy ripple and squeeze around his cock mercilessly as you kept rocking your hips against his desperate to ride out your high for as long as possible.

“Fuck this...” you heard him mumble at one point, his groans overcame your own. “Fuck!”

His own release was nearing, that much was certain. He was pounding into you hard and fast, jackhammering into you like his life depended on it, driving the breath from your lungs.

You had long descended from your orgasm, but you were still left to deal with the overstimulation from his cock sliding in and out of you relentlessly.

Tears soon prickled the corners of your eyes. “Oh my... god... enough.... Dabi...”

He responded by rubbing your clit harder in unison with his thrusts.

“Fuuuuuuck!”

His long drawn out groan let you know he had finally reached his peak. Your own knees began to tremble from having to hold your body in that position for so long, but he made sure you weren’t going anywhere. With a few pumps of his hips in a broken rhythm, you felt hot sprays of cum shoot inside your pussy.

He slapped your ass cheek once he was done, enjoying the sight of your pussy still tightly wrapped around him.

“What a pretty pussy....”

Your heart was still racing and your breath coming out uneven.

In one swift motion, he fully slid from inside you, and you immediately felt his cum drip as your walls contracted. “Let’s get you all cleaned up. Then we can take a proper shower.”

You were fairly certain you might regret what just happened later on, but for now, you chose to brush that aside.

Dabi wasn’t someone easy to read.

He most definitely wasn’t someone easy to get.

For the time being, you’d relish on the fact that you had made him cum. Probably not something curriculum worthy, but it was good for you and your ego.

-

Masterlist

[jadequeen88]

Accidental Valentine

◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

This is my fic for The Citrus Dome Server Lover’s Day Literature Collab! Please go check out The Masterlist and support all of the amazing artists and writers that have contributed.🖤

A/N: WHEW guys... I don’t think I’ve put this much work into a fic EVER. I’ve been feeling pretty bad about my body and wanted to write a reader who struggled with it as well. Who better to boost your confidence than DILF Kiri feeding your praise kink?! I was heavily influenced by this amazing drabble by @rat-suki​ and got permission to use it as my inspiration for this fic.🖤 (for reference, reader is 30 and Kirishima is 42)

Thanks to @afictionalwhore and my dear friend Orchid for the beta read!🖤

RetiredProHero!Kirishima x YoungerF!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

TW: size difference, oral (both receiving), daddy kink, praise kink (lots and lots of praise), TBH the sex is pretty vanilla but very passionate, both are insecure about their bodies.

When you trudged into work this morning, you didn’t ever dream of meeting your childhood idol/crush, but here you are, staring up at a beautiful mountain of a man. Eijiro Kirishima, or retired pro hero Red Riot, had never come into your coffee shop before and you’d never imagined he would. He was huge. Nearly 7 ft tall and built like a brick house. His hair was back to his natural black with flecks of silver at his temples and hung long and wild around his shoulders. He had on a pair of glasses and wore a dark maroon sweater and jeans.

Even though he’s aged, he looks just as handsome as the young man you fell for as a girl.

The year he made his debut, you were only six, and like most other six-year-olds, you idolized the pro heroes. Most of your friends loved Deku or Dynamite, but you always loved Red Riot. His smile, warmth, and his fiercely protective nature made your tiny heart burst with admiration. Throughout his hero career, you kept up with all of his interviews, the battles he’d been in, the awards he’d won, and his hero rankings. You’d also gotten as much merch as possible over the years and still wore your worn-out, oversized Red Riot t-shirt to sleep in. When he retired a couple of years ago, you still scanned articles online trying to gather bits and pieces of information about the hero, but he wasn’t one to seek out the spotlight. You think that’s probably why he’d always been your favorite. He was a true hero. Serving the citizens and keeping them safe was his top priority. You didn’t want to admit it, but you kept up with him for one main reason… You wanted to know if he was seeing anyone.

You remember being eaten up with jealousy when you’d see his arm around another woman going to galas and award ceremonies. Your sixteen-year-old brain knew that of course, he’d date women. He was a grown man and a pro hero. But your heart would ache, wanting to be the one his soft eyes and pointy-toothed grin was fixed on.

Now those same eyes were fixed on you, his mouth moving and forming words, but you were too star-struck to hear what he was saying. When you snapped out of your daze and remembered you were supposed to be taking his order, you were mortified.

“I-I’m so sorry sir! Could you please repeat that?”

“Sure thing!” his bright smile was hypnotizing, “Just a venti-sized flat white. Have you had your coffee yet? Ya looked a little far away there for a second, kid.”

Your heart leaped at the little nickname. “Yeah, sorry about that! I guess I should get a couple of shots of espresso in me before I try to be productive.” You chuckle nervously as you scribble his order on the cup and turn to make his drink.

“Oh, uhh…” he peeks around the counter to get your attention, “Do you need my name? For the order?”

You freeze realizing you forgot basic, barista 101 etiquette…

“Actually,” you face him, a sheepish grin on your face, avoiding eye contact, “I know your name. You… umm, were my favorite hero,” you blush, and your eyes widen in embarrassment, “you know when I was a kid...”

You turn back to your work, kicking yourself for being so awkward. 

“Really? I think you’re the first person to recognize me since ya know,” he circled his head with his pointer finger, “I stopped dying my hair..”

You turned your head to peer up at him through your dark lashes, a light dusting of blush still on your cheeks, “Well, I like it. It looks good on you.”

The retired pro’s heart was bursting at how damned cute you were. Was this pretty, young girl… embarrassed? Over him?! He watched your tiny hands move as they worked on his drink order, wondering how small they’d feel grasped in his massive ones. Your soft hair caught in the sunlight making you look like a literal angel and he sighed. You reached up to grab a canister from the top shelf and a sliver of soft skin between your t-shirt and jeans peeked through. His gaze became far away and he damn near drooled at the sight. Just how long had it been since he’d touched another woman? Kirishima wasn’t one for casual flings. He always got too invested in whoever he was seeing. So when he and his long-time girlfriend broke things off a couple of years ago, he wasn’t rushing back into the dating scene.

However, things were a little more… complicated than just not finding the right girl to commit to. He was getting older and it was starting to show. Over the past few years, he’d lost his confidence. He’s bulkier around the middle no matter what workouts or diets he tries. Overuse of his quirk has caused stretchmarks and scars all over his skin. He was starting to get crow’s feet and he was overall just TOO big and TOO hairy. He felt like some sort of gorilla walking around in human clothing. Kirishima isn’t stupid or trying to fool himself. A young, gorgeous thing like you wasn’t looking for anything from an old, washed-up man like him. But, fuck… It was nearly impossible for him to move his gaze away from your ass… Oh, the things he’d do to you if he were a few years younger...

You turned to look over your shoulder and notice his gaze… and it’s apparent that he’s checking you out. He looks like a man starved, eyes glued to your ass.

“Well, well, well… maybe he wasn’t so annoyed with my fangirling after all.”

When he realized you’d gone still, his eyes met yours and he quickly averted his gaze. His cheeks turned as red as his hair used to be. You busied yourself with the milk steamer to hide your big, goofy grin. With a new burst of confidence, you decide to take a chance and when you go to write his name on his to-go cup, you write

 “Big Red <3” 

You pause, bite your lip, and think to yourself, “why the hell not?” as you scribble your number underneath the nickname. You turn to give him his drink and your nerves almost make you retreat and make a whole new drink. Then he meets your gaze and your world stops spinning. His vermillion eyes crinkle at the edges as his scared lips turn upwards into a syrupy sweet smile.

When Kirishima takes his drink from you, your fingers brush his for the briefest second and he can tell they’re trembling. “Oh no, I hope I haven’t made her nervous or uncomfortable.” He wanted to go crawl in a hole… That was until he saw what you’d written on his cup.

He stammers, looking from the cup to your face like he’s checking to see if you’re pulling a prank on him or not. Before he can say anything, you bite your lip and look up at him. 

“I’m off work this Sunday. Just… if you’d like to hang out or something.” your gaze shifts and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

After a moment or two, his face lights up in a huge grin. “Y-yeah, great!” he turns and walks a few steps, then turns around and motions at the cup, “So… I should just, ahh… text you?”

You giggle and it’s the sweetest sound he’s heard in a long time, “That would be nice, yeah.”

“Okay, great!... Talk later then!” He waves and leaves the coffee shop, feeling light as a feather and ten years younger.

*****

Sunday rolls around and you spend the morning making sure the place is cleaner than it’s been in weeks. Your place was small but cozy. For a fleeting moment, you’re a little insecure about how modest your apartment is. You don’t know exactly how wealthy pros are when they retire, but you know he’s more familiar with much nicer places than yours. You decide he probably knew just what to expect on a barista’s salary and tried to put it out of your mind. You checked on the cookies baking in the oven. When you found out through your text conversations that he loved chocolate chip cookies with the large chunks of dark chocolate baked in, you went out and bought everything to make them the same day. You kept watching over them like a hawk to avoid burning them. They still looked pretty gooey, so you decided it would be safe to get changed into something a little nicer. Just as you were about to turn the corner into your bedroom, your doorbell rang.

“Shit!” you looked at your phone and sure enough, you let time get away from you. He was here and you were still in your cropped leggings and t-shirt, sporting a messy bun and dirty apron. You groaned as you realized you couldn’t leave him on your doorstep while you changed. Defeated, you hurried to the door.

You opened the door, hoping that you at least didn’t have flour in your hair, and looked up into the much larger man’s eyes. The realization that THE Red Riot was standing this close to you made your stomach flutter and a goofy grin slide across your face. While you stood there star-struck, he broke the silence.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here!”

“Oh!” you jumped a little then promptly ran over to your oven, “Sorry! Please come on in!” you said over your shoulder as you were pulling your oven mitts on. 

Kirishima walked into your cozy apartment and instantly felt at ease. He couldn’t pinpoint just what it was, but something about your place felt more like home than any place he’d ever lived before. As he finished scanning your apartment, his eyes landed on you taking the cookies out of the oven. The comfortable, domestic feel of the place coupled with your ass on full display as you bent down to remove the cookies from the oven had his jeans tightening. You stood up and he averted his gaze before you turned around, not wanting to get caught checking your ass out for a second time.

“Fair warning, I’m not a talented baker by any means,” you removed your oven mitts after placing the cookie sheets on the cooling rack and flashed a sly grin his way, “But when Red Riot tells you what his favorite cookies are… Ya kinda gotta make them, right?”

Oh… If you only knew how pent up this man was… he debated bending you over right then and there and fucking you until you couldn’t walk. He really hit the jackpot with you… a hot, younger woman with the perfect ass who bakes him cookies and for some reason thinks he hung the moon? Kirishima would have given you a ring right then and there if he didn’t think it would scare you off.

“Well,” he radiated warmth as he looked between you and the cookies cooling on the rack, “If you’re not the sweetest thing! I, ahh… might have gotten you a little something too.” he then held up a 6 pack of your favorite cider. “Because when Y/N, L/N tells you what her favorite cider is… Ya kinda gotta get her some.” he winked and you felt your knees buckle and your cheeks burn. You felt like you were in a fairytale.

Then you remembered that the princesses in fairytales definitely did not wear flour-riddled black leggings, old t-shirts, and dirty aprons.

“OH! Umm, I need to go get cleaned up. I’ll only be a minu-” his massive hand wrapped around your wrist as you walked past him. It covered half of your forearm and a shudder ran through you. You wanted those giant hands to roam every inch of your body.

“Please don’t,” his eyes were half-lidded and his voice was low, “...I think you look beautiful like this.” his calloused thumb traced little circles on your skin not meeting your gaze. His deep voice was impossibly tender.

Now that you’d felt his skin on yours, you couldn’t contain your churning desires any longer. You wanted, needed, more. Rising up on your tiptoes, you curled your fist into Kirishima’s shirt collar and pulled his face toward yours.

You felt him tense up for a moment, then relax into the kiss. His massive hands found purchase on your hips, digging into the pliant flesh there. A needy whimper caught in his throat spurring you on to deepen the kiss. 

It was like your bodies were working around each other in perfect harmony… lips parting at a slow pace, like honey dripping from the edge of a spoon and tongues meeting in the middle to taste each other. You both savored the kiss for as long as you could, eyes lazily drifting open and shared breaths causing your hearts to dance out of your chests. 

You saw him falter, his gaze dropping, and you feared that you overstepped. 

“Kirishima I-“

“Ejiro,” he stopped you with a hand against your cheek, “Call me Eijiro…” his thumb caressed your bottom lip slowly, back and forth. His touch held so much devotion in it.

“Eijiro…” you sighed, looking up at him with pleading eyes, “I need you…”

The giant of a man before you swept you up into his arms and began walking down your hallway. You quickly wrapped your arms and legs around his hulking frame as if you were climbing a tree. 

“Second door on the right,” you were panting into his neck, leaving sloppy kisses all over it. 

You blew a cool stream of air along his damp skin and felt him shudder. A giggle bubbled up from your chest at being able to weaken a retired pro-hero known for being a human shield against the worst villains Japan has ever known. Your little stunt resulted in a grunt and a firm, warning squeeze to your thigh.

“So that’s what we’re doing today, huh?” he tosses you on the bed just hard enough to make you bounce up a little… then he’s on you, placing light kisses all along your neck as he prods your sides looking for a ticklish spot. You can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard and the fact that it was your idol drawing it from you made you dizzy with joy.

“Mercy! Mercy!” you were breathless and your abdomen ached from the forceful laughs Ejiro was pulling from you. He blew a raspberry on your neck as a final tease then relented, sitting up to meet your gaze.

You were absolutely smitten. You caressed the lines around his eyes and the scar that split his lips as your eyes roamed across his features. Every crease, every scar… you wanted to kiss them all. When his gaze faltered and he pulled away to sit beside you on the bed, the feeling you’d done something wrong resurfaced. You sat up beside him and placed your hand on his thigh.

“Eijiro…” your voice was barely above a whisper, “I’m sorry, I know I can come on a little strong sometimes, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just…” your eyes meet and his gaze is unreadable.

“No, no…” his ruby eyes drop to the floor, “It’s just that,” he chuckles nervously, “Well, it’s been a while. I’m not very good with casual flings and the like. So I don’t really date much…”

You rise to your feet and move to stand in front of him. Sitting in front of you on your bed, you’re only slightly below eye level with him. You place your tiny hands on his thick thighs and nudge them apart so you can slot your hips between them.

“When I told you that you were my favorite hero,” you reach for his wrist and remove the hair tie from it, “What that actually meant was that I’d watch the news every day just to make sure you were safe.” 

Slender fingers move through his wild mane of silver-flecked hair untangling any knots, “It meant that when that villain with the sludge quirk put you in the hospital for a couple of days, my mom let me stay home from school because I was so distraught,” you pulled all of his untangled hair to the nape of his neck and began wrapping the hair tie around it.

“It meant that my silly sixteen-year-old heart would ache when I saw you hand in hand with a girl in a magazine going out on a date,” you grinned at how silly you felt admitting that. Once his hair was secured in a low ponytail, your hands trailed along his broad shoulders.

“Now that I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself, I’ll get to the point.” your intense gaze held years of longing for the hero in front of you, “Nothing about this is casual for me.”

Tears pricked the corners of Kirishima’s eyes. Had anyone ever showed him this much tender devotion? All the years he’d taken beating after beating, a glorified human shield, content with leaving most of the game to his friends. He was all rough edges and bulk. He was the one doing the protecting every time. Even in his romantic relationships, he was the one who would give, and give, and give… never asking or expecting to be taken care of. Being handled with such care was utterly foreign to him and it stirred up a deep need he never knew was there.

“Eji…” his glassy eyes met yours, “Can I take care of you?” you sank to your knees, hands sliding up his thighs.

“Please…”

Your hands made quick work of his button and zipper. He shifted his hips upwards to help you ease his jeans down his thick thighs and you pulled his jeans and boxers down in one slow pull. Nothing would have prepared you for just how huge he was. Your eyes widened for a fraction of a second, wondering how you’d get that thing to fit inside your cunt, much less your mouth… but it was something you were eager to find out.

Looking up at him from under your dark lashes, you made a show of lewdly licking your lips. You flattened your tongue and drug the wet muscle from his base right above his neatly trimmed patch of black hair, all the way to the swollen, red tip of his head. You felt the powerful muscles in his thighs clench as his head rolled back and a delicious moan escaped his open mouth. Making your hero come undone with one lick to his cock was intoxicating. 

“Fuck, baby…” Kirishima fisted the sheets praying he wouldn’t come just from your teasing. He’s not sure his pride could handle it. It became a very real threat when he dared to look down at you kissing and licking all up and down his length. Once your mouth had gotten him wet enough, your soft hands joined your warm mouth in worshiping his cock. You met his gaze as you kissed his tip and licked up the pre that was escaping in pearlescent beads. When you had teased him to your contentment, you swallowed him down as deep as your throat would allow, wrapped your hand around his base, and moaned.

Kirishima had many blowjobs in his life. In fact, he’d had some that he would say were pretty amazing… but in all his adult life, he’d never been so thoroughly and enthusiastically devoured like this. He threaded his fingers of one hand in your loose bun and fisted your bed sheets in his other to ground himself. After a minute or two, he felt his release creeping up much faster than he wanted.

He placed his hands on either side of your face causing you to stop bobbing your head and look up at him. He ran his thumb against your swollen bottom lip and you leaned into his tender touch. He bends forward and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Lay down on the bed,” he whispers into your hair. Nerves starting to catch up to you, you shook slightly as you stood from your spot on the floor. Before you lay down, you remember to take your apron off then lay on your pillows, heart pounding awaiting further instruction.

Kirishima hovers over you reminding you yet again just how tiny you are compared to him. His warm hand covers your knee and slowly travels up your thigh, stopping right before he meets your throbbing core. He runs his hand back down your thigh to gently nudge your knees apart. Leaning on his forearms, he positions himself between your thighs and you gasp at the friction created where your bodies meet. While planting tender kisses on your neck, he whispers, “I need you to promise that you’ll tell me if I need to stop or if something doesn’t feel okay. Can you do that?”

“Y-yes…” you moan as he nibbles on your earlobe, teasing with his sharp teeth but not breaking your skin.

“Mmm,” he places sweet kisses all along your jaw, your breath catching in your throat, “Good girl.”

Receiving praise from him made your chest swell. You wanted nothing more than to please this man you were rapidly falling for. He sat up, legs folded under his body, and slowly slid his hands under the hem of your oversized t-shirt. You felt his hands still on your stomach and looked up from where you were laying on your pillows to see what had made him freeze.

He met your gaze with a devilish grin, “Baby girl…” his thumbs run small circles on your skin, “Did you wear this for me?” 

When you realize what he’s talking about, you hide your face and groan into your hands. You completely forgot that you were still in your old Red Riot t-shirt that you usually slept in. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing!” you mumbled behind your palms.

Kirishima chuckled and shushed you, “No, no, no… This is the sexiest thing you could have possibly worn.” He pulls the hem of your t-shirt up to expose your tummy, burying his face in the soft skin there. Gentle kisses were placed all along the waistline of your leggings, every squishy part and every little stretchmark that decorated your skin like tiny spiderwebs were lovingly caressed with his plush lips. Having the part of your body you were the most self-conscious of worshiped like this felt more vulnerable than sex.

As the kisses traveled higher, they became sloppier and more desperate. You lifted your arms to allow him to remove your shirt, exposing your plain white cotton bra. The feel of his stubble against your skin as he moaned into your cleavage sent shivers down your body. Instead of paying attention to your neglected nipples, his warm mouth carved a path up the column of your throat, head thrown back to give him as much access as possible.

Kirishima whispered against the tender skin under your earlobe, “This okay, baby?” two large fingers dip into the front of your leggings. You nod enthusiastically, unable to form a coherent answer, “Mmm… I need words, sweet thing. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes… it’s more than okay,” your chests are touching as he works his hand down the front of your pants.

When Kirishima’s thick fingers slid between your drenched folds, you arched your back and grasped his forearm. Slowly, he spread your slick around, dancing past your clit with each stroke. His teasing was turning you into a whimpering mess underneath him. 

He had all the time in the world and having you melt underneath his touch was the best way he could hope to spend it. After what felt like an eternity of him gently brushing against you, only slightly dipping into your needy hole and barely grazing your clit, you were openly panting and whining. A steady stream of praises flowed from his lips.

“You’re such a pretty girl… such a pretty little pussy.”

“Look at how wet you are for me. Like this, huh? My pretty girl likes my fingers teasing her?”

“I can’t wait to lick my fingers clean. You’re gonna taste so sweet.”

You were so worked up that tears began to form in your eyes, “Eji… I-“

“Hmm? What is it, baby girl? Need something?” His finger drags around your clit slowly, adding a fraction more pressure. 

“Please, I need more Eji,” your nails digging into his forearm were leaving little crescents in his thick skin.

“Sweet girl,” he meets your mouth with a slow, wet kiss, “you can have whatever you want.”

Without hesitation, he sits up and pulls your leggings down with your panties. A groan rattles his large chest when he sees a thread of your slick attached to the crotch. Once his face is buried in between your thighs, it’s a real possibility he might come just from eating you out. 

All the teasing had brought him to the edge as well and he was out of patience. With a few hurried kisses to each thigh, he dove into your dripping cleft. His tongue plunged into your core as he nudged his nose into your puffy clit. 

You cry out and convulse around his face. His arms wrap around your thighs, firmly but gently holding your legs open to give him full access to eat you as thoroughly as possible. When he moves to suck your clit, you know you won’t last much longer. As he nurses on your sensitive nub, you feel the familiar tightening in your lower body. He picks up on this and moans into your skin as he greedily sucks. 

“Ahh… Ahh, I’m- I’m gonna….”

“Oh that’s it,” he encourages you by praising you and massaging your thighs in his massive hands, “let me have it, baby girl. Come on, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Your toes curl and back arches as you’re thrown over the edge. “Oh FUCK!! Coming, coming…. ooooh god… ahh D-daddy!…”

“Daddy, is it? Goddamn”

Kirishima felt his dick twitch and his breath caught in his throat.

He wipes his face on the back of his hands and makes a show of licking his fingers clean as he leans over you, nose touching yours.

“What was that baby?” His voice was strained as he pressed his dick into the warm, damp skin of your thigh…

You bat your lashes and ghost your lips over his as you whisper, “Daddy… please let me ride you. I need you inside me.” The nail in Kirishima’s coffin was when you licked his bottom lip then quickly followed with a chaste kiss.

You waste no time wrapping your thighs around his waist and twisting. He follows your lead and lays flat on his back letting you straddle him. You grab the hem of his shirt and similarly tease him, leaving a trail of kisses along his broad stomach. Kirishima flinches a little, self-conscious of his skin and how soft his middle had gotten over the years. You meet his eyes as you pull his shirt over his broad shoulders and run your hands back down his body. 

“Mmm, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” hands and eyes roamed over the expanse of skin in front of you, “It’s even better than in my dreams.”

He wondered for the hundredth time how got this lucky. You really loved his body? Maybe… maybe he wasn’t in as bad of shape as he thought…

“No,” his hands rubbed your hips, kneading your soft skin, “You’re better than I’d ever hoped to find.” He sits upon the headboard and pulls you closer into his lap, “Now,” he pulls your hair free of the messy bun, “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock?”

You lift your hips and place his tip at your entrance. That alone caused a delicious stretch and you knew it would be a slow process getting him to fit comfortably.

“Yes, Daddy,” your hands wrapped around his neck and he growled as he pulled you into a rough kiss.

“Good fuckin girl.” 

He helped lower you onto his cock with lots of kisses, praises, and gentle squeezes. When you got closer to his base, the pain was too much for a moment. Kirishima used his thumb to rub circles into your clit, shushing you sweetly against your parted mouth. 

“Are you okay, baby?” He brushes your hair off your sweaty forehead with his free hand while his other is still working your clit over.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, “You fill me up so well. I love your massive cock filling me up.”

“You’re gonna make me crazy, you know that? Huh?” He pulls your lower lip into his mouth and sucks. You both sit for a while, exchanging kisses and whispers while you adjust to his girth.

“Are you ready to move now, sweet girl?” 

“Yes, Daddy…” he helps you move, dragging your hips up and down his shaft.

After a few deep thrusts, you both increase your pace, matching each other’s movements. It’s not long before your head is thrown back, tears escaping the corners of your eyes. Loud moans and curses escape your mouth as one nipple is pulled into Kirishima’s mouth.

“Oh, Daddy! Fuck, fuck! Right there, right there… I… I’m… AHH!” Before you can even say anything, you’ve come undone, spasming around his cock. 

“Oh, good girl, good fuckin girl,” you go limp and bury your face into his neck while he slams your hips onto his, chasing his release. The feeling of him using your body to get off makes you dizzy with joy. You lean into his ear whispering, “Please come inside me. Wanna feel you come inside me, Daddy… please, need your come inside me, Daddy.” 

Your slurred pleas against his ear send him over the edge into a mind-numbing orgasm. As he comes down from his high and looks into your face full of adoration, he knows he’s caught… hook, line, and sinker. 

*****

The rest of the evening is spent eating cookies on your couch, drinking cider, and watching your favorite crime drama. The sweet kisses and touches sprinkled throughout the night feel so natural… Like you’ve been together for years instead of hours. 

You end up with Kirishima’s head in your lap, running your fingers through his hair as he closes his eyes and relaxes into your touch. The clock on your wall reads 12:30 am and it dawns on you what day it officially is.

“Eji?”

“Hmm?” He opens one eye and reaches up to scratch your scalp. 

“Will you be my valentine?” You bite your bottom lip to stifle a silly grin.

He sits up and pulls you into a bear hug. 

“What kinda silly question is that? Of course. I don’t ever want another valentine besides you.”

Your heart explodes and you kiss him, grabbing his cheeks in both hands. 

“Sixteen-year-old me is absolutely losing her shit right now,” you giggle, rubbing his nose with yours.

“Well,” he grabs your ass and raises an eyebrow, “Forty-two-year-old me is losing his shit right now over finding such a sweet girl with such a sweet ass on her,” he nips at your neck and you squeal.

“Ooh, you ready for another round, old man?”

He growls and throws you over his shoulder. A swift spank to your ass causes you to burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Oh, so I’m dealing with a brat now? You want me to show you what this old man does to little brats?” He squeezes your thighs as he makes his way to the bedroom. 

“But I’m your good girl! Remember?!”

“Yeah, yeah… We’ll see about that.”

[xiaq]

Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)

Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.

I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???

(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)

CW for sex talk (again)

How does one get over purity culture?

Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.

Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.

According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.

Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you’re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.

You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.

The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.

Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.

Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)

Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.

*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).

[roger-that-cap]

meet me in the gardens

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say not to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected your knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either. 

warnings: lots of emotions, feelings, slightly cynical and bitter reader- she’s honestly just being a realist, we are chugging forward, did not check for typos, format could be fucked up bc i’m posting from my phone quite literally minutes before i clock in- PATHETIC LMAO

word count: 2.7k

this is a short chapter by my standards, but it felt long to me because of the things in it??? this is part five! all other parts can be found on my masterlist, it’s my pinned post!

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Wanda asked while she tied your corset, not even needing to ask whether it was too tight or loose. You looked up in your vanity and immediately tried to wipe your smile away, but it was too late. She knew you better than anyone, and she had yet to see a thoughtful smile on your face, ever. Pietro, who had caught you going back inside the previous night, caught on to the fact that you looked more carefree, and that you just seemed to look like you were carrying around less. 

“Nothing.” 

“Hmm,” Wanda hummed, an entertained look on her face. Something told you that she already had an idea of what was going on, even though there was no way she could have. Besides, you hardly even knew what was going on. “I’ll ask again later.” She looked you in the eyes through the mirror, a slightly mischievous smile on her face. “Maybe then you’ll tell the truth,” she said, flicking you on the side of the head, and then letting it rest.

§§

Natasha was out in the village doing whatever it was the knights did one night, and she was planning on spending the night at a bed and breakfast before coming back in the morning. As disheartened as you were about not being able to see her for your stargazing, you were partly glad for it. You missed being with the twins. 

You had dinner with them alone, sitting and laughing about old memories and scheduling times to make new ones together. You loved the way you could be with them. Your laughter was allowed to go over the volume of a giggle without them looking at you like you had grown seven heads, your silverware were allowed to take a tumble onto your plate with a clatter without a second glance, and you were allowed to use whatever language you pleased. You missed the comfort that you felt with them, the comfort that your brain and the part of you that would always be the farm girl felt with them. 

“And Pietro chased him all the way off, you should have seen how terrified he was,” Wanda recapped, and you couldn't help but grin at Pietro, who was sipping wine with his charming grin. “That boy will never lift another skirt, I can assure you of that.” 

“I’m glad,” you mused, shooting Pietro a look that made him laugh. 

“Enough about me,” he said after swallowing a sip of his wine that was much more like a gulp. “We’re not going to talk about how you’ve been walking on the clouds for weeks now?” 

You nearly dropped your fork again. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve both realized,” Pietro said, motioning with his buttered knife towards his sister, who had a soft smile on her face as she observed your reaction. “That you have been significantly happier. Even with the circumstances-”

“Pietro,” Wanda hissed, but you just snorted and shook your head. 

“It’s like you found your own little pocket of happiness. We were worried about you, but, you’re doing alright.” Ever the blatant one out of the three of you, he leaned forward with his trademark smirk, eyes full of curiosity. “What do you know that we don't?” 

You hesitated for a second, mouth opening and closing twice as you grappled for anything to say, even a lie. And then, you settled on just shrugging your shoulders with a grin, shaking your head. “Honestly, Pietro, I know nothing. I don’t know anything.”

§§

Your heart was beating faster than normal as you looked at the woman next to you, your hand subconsciously itching closer to hers as you sat on the ground, ass on the blanket that you had brought out.  “I would like to… show you something.” 

It was probably the twentieth time that you and Natasha had met with each other, and still, you were entranced by her and everything that she did.  And you were entranced while you stared at her and waited for her answer, just a little nervous as to what she would say. 

As if she would ever say no to something you said. 

“Show me anything you’d like me to see,” Natasha urged on, and you fought back a smile. You stood up, and she did the same, and then you were picking up the blanket and walking side by side with her. It was quiet the entire way there as you walked in step with her, hand brushing against her every few steps and sending tingles down your arm every time it happened. 

The feeling that you got when she touched you made you feel both alive and scared to death. You weren’t stupid. You knew what you were steadily collecting more than friendly feelings for her, and that she may have been on the same page you were on. The game you were playing was a dangerous one, the risk threatening to swallow up the reward more and more by the day. 

You had known that being with her by yourself was bad judgement, ever since the first time you did it. Hell, the look you gave her the first time you met her was far from appropriate. Every single conversation that you had with her was a risk, and both of you knew it. And now that your soon-to-be husband was approaching, it was even more scandalous. No one knew and you hoped no one would ever find out, but hiding forever wasn’t a choice. But what would you be hiding if there were no true feelings? 

You hated yourself for falling for her and her pretty words. 

“I used to come here to escape,” you started, pulling yourself out of your thoughts, voice low as you passed the tree line to get into the thick of the woods. You narrowly missed stepping in a particularly muddy spot on the ground. “This was my spot, before I got the garden of course.”

“The woods?” 

“No, Nat,” you said, slightly amused as you stepped over a fallen branch. You smiled a bit when the sound of running water hit your ears.  “The stream.” 

You knew the exact second that she saw it, because her eyes widened and her breath hitched.  “That’s not a stream, that’s a river.”

“It’s the forgotten part of the main river,” you explained. “It’s much skinnier and more shallow, and it doesn't have nearly as much fish coming through, so people forget about it.” You looked towards her and saw how intrigued she was by it, so you judged her armor free body with a slight smirk. “What? Never seen running water?”

“I lived in the capital, all they had was the ocean. And even then I was never allowed on the harbor if I wasn’t selling clams, and I didn’t sell clams much.”

You felt silence start to grow between the two of you, so you said the first thing that you thought of. “You don’t look like a clam seller.” 

He looked away from the river and to you, a slight grin on her face even as she talked again. “And you don’t look like a petal kisser, blossom, but look where we are today.”

Your heart raced in your chest. “Blossom? Is that what you’re calling me now?” 

“It’s only payback for calling me ‘cherry’,” she said, and you stifled a laugh at the retired name, glancing up at the red hair that you had gotten inspiration from.  

“You didn’t actually mind it,” you said, looking off into the distance, only looking back at her when a warm hand slotted over yours. You blinked and looked down at your hands, which she had intertwined, and then back up at her again, only to see that she was staring straight ahead in the dark at the way the moonlight hit the water. 

“How could I?” She asked softly, a subtle breeze picking up.”You were the one saying it.” She looked at you, and in the dim lighting, you could have sworn that her eyes were saying, you can call me anything in the book, and I will own it proudly. And then, the look changed to something else, something less devoting, and something more passionate. It took you a few seconds to understand what the look meant, and before you could fully register it, she was leaning forward. 

A few seconds came and went where you could feel your heartbeat all over, and you tried to look somewhere other than in her eyes. You couldn't. “Don’t look at me like that.” When all Natasha did was tilt her head to the side and give you an even more intense version of the look, you let out a small sigh. “Please.”

“Why not?” 

She knew why. She knew why probably better than you did after living in the capital. She saw what happened firsthand to people who committed crimes, and those who committed second degree adultery. If you two did what you were wanting to do with your entire heart, you would fall right into that category. “I know where this is going,” you said softly, “and this won’t end well.” 

“Why not?” She asked again, and you turned your head to the side, shaking it slightly and closing your eyes. 

“Because, I’m about to get married,” you hissed, and though you didn’t mean to sound so angry, you did. Natasha was hardly affected. 

She lifted her arms and let them fall against her clothing with a soft slap that still echoed in the night. “You’re not married right now.” 

“But I will be, Natasha,” you said, gripping her hands and squeezing  them softly, begging for her to understand you. “What’s going to happen when I get married to a man who already has a streak for murdering his wives, and he finds out that I have feelings for you? He’ll kill me. He’ll kill you. And if he doesn’t, we’ll both be hung for adultery, after being put into torture camps for being… together as women.” 

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Y/N, you know that.” The fervency in her tone nearly shocked you as she took a bold step forward, nearly surrounding you in her scent and energy. “I would never let anything happen to you.” 

“You’re too important for me to condemn to death and dishonor just because I have feelings for you. It was selfish of me to meet with you in the first place, but I can’t let myself do this. It’s a bad idea,” You said, voice hushed even though no one would have followed you. You were trembling, hand shaking more than anything else as you tried to understand how fast everything was moving; forward and backwards, sewing together and ripping apart all the same. If you were any more attentive to her expression, you would have seen the grin that lit up her face as your confession. “We were just about to cross a line. We’ve crossed quite a few dotted ones, but this one? It is bold and blaring.” 

“Blossom,” Natasha started, and you just shook your head and kept going. 

“And-and what we were just about to do? That crosses the line. We cannot.” 

“Do you really think my feelings for you are going to change depending on whether or not we kiss?” She asked, her voice slightly deeper than usual, almost sounding insulted. “You’re telling me to close my heart off from you, not to not kiss you. And you know that.”  

“What if I am?” You asked, eyes starting to burn with tears. “I’m doing it for the right reasons, Nat. I’m trying to save us from a world of hurt when reality finally sinks in.”

“That isn’t today.” She took another step forward and this time, you couldn't find the strength in you to step back. “And it isn’t tomorrow, and not even within the fortnight. You and I have something, and I know that you know it’s different. It’s special. We would be so stupid to ignore it, so stupid.” 

“I know, I know,” you said, voice tapering off into a whine as you slowly felt your resolve come apart, even though you thought it was stronger. “I’m sorry.”

 “You don’t have to apologize,” Natasha said after a few minutes of pure silence, and you found yourself exhaling. “I just wish things were different.” 

  “I know,” she said, and you turned to look up at the sky, tears threatening to come down on your cheeks. The stars seemed to twinkle and wink at you, talking amongst themselves about a future you had no idea about just yet. 

“Guess they’re never gonna line up,” you murmured to yourself, and then you heard Natasha grumble something from your side, and then she was coming closer, a barreling energy force full of passion and intent, and you knew exactly what she was coming for. For less than a split second, you thought about it. And then you turned your head and met her halfway. 

You would have been surprised by the passion in it if you weren’t just as desperate for the contact. You twisted in her arms, already wrapped around you as she drew you in close, closer than you had ever been with her, and the tears that were welling up before were now escaping for a different reason. Your lips were pressing into hers, moving fluidly and with an air of fervor that she matched equally. You felt wanted, and needed, and you felt loved. You felt the tenderness of the moment with every brush of her fingers on the back of your neck and with every rub of your back over the thin material of your night dress. 

Your legs were shaking, and she noticed before you did that you were getting weak in the knees. She held you up and pulled back slightly, just enough for you to feel her lips brush against yours while she asked if you were okay, like she wasn’t willing to take herself from you just yet. And honestly, you weren’t ready for her to leave you, either. You nodded, and she leaned in again, much slower, and then you had time to think. 

Her eyes weren’t the same shade they were when the sun hit them, they were almost an eerie pale blue, but they were still just as gorgeous to you, especially now that they were slanted with desire. Her hair wasn’t perfect like she somehow always managed or it to be, and you realized that it was because you had gotten a hand to run through it despite the way that she had previously held you like a lifeline. Her lashes were long, and you swore that she was close enough that you could count them. Her cheekbones were accentuated in the lighting, making her look like something straight out of a fairy tale, like a floating fae creature that led people to safety. In that moment, you could have sworn that she was the answer to every prayer you had ever whispered, to every question you had ever asked your etiquette teachers. In that moment, and in every moment to come, she was your ending and beginning, your creation and destruction, your sunrise and sunset. She was Natasha Romanoff, and in that moment, no wedding or murderous man even held a candle to the way you felt about her.

  What a beautiful person. 

“Now you’re looking at me strangely,” Natasha said, her voice quieter than you had ever heard it as the both of you treated over the moment carefully, trying not to break it and leave it in shambles. “What are you thinking about?” 

“How I’m going to have to pretend like this never happened in a few weeks,” you said softly, and part of you hated yourself for bringing up the bad part of the future so soon after you both had just lost all ties to reality. 

“You don’t have to,” she said, stroking your hair. “We can just keep doing what we’re doing, sneaking off in the night and coming back in the morning before anyone realizes. Nothing really has to change, I just want you to know that I… that we can be whatever you want us to be.” 

“As long as we’re in the confines of the garden walls.” 

“And now the woods,” Natasha said, and you couldn’t help but laugh in her arms. 

“And now the woods."

****

this is short, but i couldn’t see anything being tacked on to this. we’re at an important part, and from here it’s gonna be fun!! thank y’all for reading; if you liked it please drop a like and a reblog bc it makes my day!! comments also make me ascend y’all

tags!! : tags! : @teenwonder @saamwilscn @procrastinatingsapphictrash @fayhar @8plasma @slut-for-nat @dontmindmejustreading @swords-are-cool @200605chaeng @thescottishavenger @antidaytime @jenny-song @madamevirgo @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife​ @shycucumbersandwich @dailyavengering @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ima-gi--na-tion @chickenhavewisdom

so sorry if i forgot anyone!!!!!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Now I want the story where NMJ is half war god and NHS is half fox spirit, thank you so much xD

based on this tumblr post and Lao Nie’s decision to refer to WRH as A-Han in this one ficlet

on ao3

Nie Zonghui had long ago suspected that his Sect Leader was a madman, but he didn’t really know it for certain until the first time he lost the man while on a bodyguarding mission – his first, and a great honor. 

Supposedly.

“It’s all right,” his father said, looking long-suffering, when he reported back in distress. “He’s an adult, our sect leader, and this is a small city with no major threats in the middle of some idiosyncratic festival celebration for some goddess or another. How much damage can he really do before he sobers up?”

Nie Zonghui stared at his father, then turned to his mother, who was also staring at her husband with an expression of sincere incredulity.

“Lots,” she supplied. “Lots and lots and lots, and that’s assuming he doesn’t get himself killed in the meantime. Why would you even say that?”

“He’s our sect leader, have some respect.”

“I respect the boss bull of the herd, too, but it doesn’t mean I let it go wandering around the fields wherever it pleases!” She shook her head, snorting in a manner not entirely unlike a bull herself. “Well, if we’re very lucky, maybe our cousin will knock up a cow while he’s out and about rather than just breaking things. We could use a direct heir already; he’s not getting any younger.”

“We could use him being properly married is what we could use. I don’t understand why he’s so resistant – ah, Zonghui, you’re still here? Go gather some cultivators and go look for him, but don’t kick up any fuss, and worry too much if you can’t find him at once. He’ll be back to business soon enough.”

He was, if by “soon enough” one meant “after nearly ten days” and by “back to business” one meant “still drunk off his ass and waxing rhapsodic about some girl he met and possibly married”.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure the sun shines out of her ass,” Nie Zonghui’s father said, his face stormy. “You still could’ve told us where you went. Look what you did to poor Zonghui, he’s been wearing down his heels pacing in worry over you!”

“Oh, heels, yes, did I mention that my gorgeous goddess had amazing legs, too?” their sect leader asked with a soppy smile and stars in his eyes, totally uninterested in any of their petty complaints. “She could kill a man with them – oh, but I would die a happy man between those thighs…!”

“Zonghui, go guard the outside door,” his mother told him. “Also, tell his younger sister that she might need to be sect leader sooner than she’d hoped, because I’m going to murder this fucking –”

-

Nie Zonghui was there, too, when ten months later his new little baby cousin was (metaphorically) ditched on their doorstep.

The entire thing was entirely too dramatic for his taste, and yes, he was aware that as a person who chose to dual wield sabers he had very little room to criticize others for being overly dramatic, however correct he might be.

They had been fighting bandits – barely disguised mercenaries, really, probably paid off by the Wen sect to harass them – in what had turned into a particularly bad situation. Three separate regiments had joined together to take advantage of a terrible thunderstorm and ambush them at all once and them with their backs against a raging river, swollen with rain to the precipice of flooding, with no way to retreat except by fleeing on their sabers, abandoning the common people they were protecting and losing all face. 

The sect leader had been raging on the battlefield, saber in hand, but even he had seen that they would need to shortly choose between death and dishonor; Nie Zonghui, close by his side, had seen how his face was split with a terrible scowl as he wracked his brain for more options.

Then there had been a terrible roar of thunder, and then a flash of light that had blinded them all.

Nie Zonghui had immediately noted the anomality of it, thunder first and lightning second, and wondered it if it was some sort of array working against them, especially when the light had not faded away but grown brighter, causing searing pain in his eyes that made him fall and clutch at his face. But he was a good soldier, loyal and true, and he forced his eyes open to squint into the night, looking to see he did not know what.

Through his sun-blindness, he vaguely thought he could see a silhouette not unlike that of a woman, ten feet tall and radiant as the sun, wearing a dress of nine colors and carrying a guandao in her hand that seemed to reach the clouds, but when he blinked again he saw nothing at all.

Or, well, he did see something: all of their enemies were headless, no matter where on the battlefield they were, their bodies dropping like a loosened string of coins where they had been standing and splattering anyone they were fighting with blood as they gawped at the sudden corpses.

Also, the sect leader was suddenly holding something in his arms when he hadn’t been before.

“What’s that?” Nie Zonghui asked, and the sect leader turned towards him. Nie Zonghui squinted, and suddenly wondered if this entire battle had been a very bad dream. “…is that a baby?”

“Yes,” the sect leader said, grinning broadly. “He’s my son!”

“He’s your what,” Nie Zonghui said.

“My son! I didn’t know about him, of course – apparently he came as something of a surprise to her as well – but anyway she thought that it would be more appropriate for me to raise him, all things considered. A baby doesn’t quite fit her lifestyle. What do you think of ‘Mingjue’ as a courtesy name? Good, yes?”

Nie Zonghui suddenly understood why his parents were always cursing all the time.

-

“I don’t see why I need another wife,” the sect leader said. “I already have a son.”

“Don’t you want to give said son a mother?” Nie Zonghui’s mother asked, her arms crossed. “One that isn’t the Dark Lady of the Nine Heavens, the war goddess you somehow managed to knock up without getting killed?”

“She never specified that she was –”

“Someone needs to be Nie-furen,” the sect leader’s younger sister interrupted, “because I am sick and tired of doing the job, and it’s a little difficult to ask a goddess to do it. So you are going to find yourself another one that’s a little closer to the ground this time, you understand me?”

The sect leader nodded and agreed, which was universally agreed upon to be the only appropriate reaction when his beloved meimei said something in that particular tone of voice.

(He did, after a suitable period of time, state that he wanted to make clear that there was no actual evidence that he had knocked up Jiutian Xuannü and that it was quite plausible that the mother of his heir was nothing more than a rogue cultivator of particular strength and possibility even immortality. If Baosan Sanren had managed it, why not someone else?)

At any rate, they brought him several pictures of women that might fit the bill and who would not be too offended at being asked to be a secondary wife – their sect leader swore up and down that he had performed bows with the mother of his first son, rendering him legitimate, and anyway no one was in the mood to see if the maybe-a-goddess would take offense to someone calling her child a bastard – but none seemed to catch their sect leader’s interest.

“Consider visiting a few brothels,” Nie Zonghui’s great-uncle suggested. “Anything to get you back in the habit of thinking about women of a less divine nature – though of course we’d prefer that she be literate.”

The sect leader scowled and stalked off to go night-hunting instead.

“I don’t like brothels,” he said to Nie Zonghui as they made their way through an especially deserted mountain valley in search of something that had murdered all the local mensfolk in the surrounding villages with especial viciousness. “Surely there’s an option in between.”

Nie Zonghui preferred his sabers to either men or women, but he obediently wracked his brain to think of where people in stories and famous songs found their wives. “Innkeeper’s daughters?” he finally suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the sect leader scoffed, but the very next day, he decided to break his usual habit of staying out in the wild no matter the weather in favor of taking shelter from the encroaching storm in a small inn right at the base of an especially lonesome and nasty-looking cliff.

“We’re always happy to have guests,” the innkeeper said with a somewhat sinister smile – he was pale as a ghost in the guttering candlelight, and his lips looked very red. “My daughter will show you to your rooms.”

The daughter in question was inhumanly beautiful: small and graceful, with a fox’s face and dark hair that fell to her knees.

“Wow,” the sect leader said, staring at her. “You know, I think you could kill me with those nails of yours.”

Nie Zonghui took a look and agreed with the sentiment, seeing that her nails were as long as claws and looked just as sharp, but apparently he and the sect leader had somewhat different interpretations of this sequence of events and plans on how to address it.

Namely, Nie Zonghui pointed out that the lady was obviously some sort of yao or maybe a gui and that she was probably the one seducing the local mensfolk, draining their yang energy and then slaughtering them, and therefore that it was undoubtedly their duty as cultivators – and cultivators of the Nie sect in particular – to put an end to her vile deeds through the swift application of their sabers. Furthermore, he explained, they should take care never to allow themselves to be alone with her in the process, lest she seek to entrance them with her seductive magics and lure them to their undoubtedly violent deaths.

The sect leader’s rebuttal to this line of logic was limited to “I’m the sect leader and if I want to bang the probably-a-ghost, I’m going to bang the ghost and there’s nothing you can do to stop me”.

Amazingly enough, the sect leader did not end up dead the next day – the innkeeper looked just as surprised as Nie Zonghui felt – and instead announced, very happily, that he was planning on marrying her.

“You what,” the innkeeper said, staring at his very smug-looking ‘daughter’. In light of dawn, she was wearing a dress of many colors with a foxfur ruff, and her beauty was almost painful to behold.

“You why,” Nie Zonghui moaned.

“You shut up,” the sect leader told him. “I’ll have you know that my lady here is very clever, literate and well-learned, and she doesn’t at all mind being the second wife. Weren’t you one of the ones on my case about getting a Nie-furen to help managing things back home?”

“I didn’t think we needed to specify that the person in question didn’t murder a lot of people!”

“Isn’t his first wife supposedly a war goddess?” the lady inquired, her clever eyes dancing in amusement.

“Well…yes…”

“Also, all those men deserved it,” she said. After a brief pause, she added, “In my opinion as a totally unrelated observer, of course.”

“See?” the sect leader said, putting his arm around her waist. “No problem. Anyway, she’ll stick to killing bad people from now on, it’s fine.”

The lady smiled. There were many teeth in that smile, and they were very sharp.

“If she doesn’t, I’ll have my first wife discipline her,” the sect leader added and her smile abruptly disappeared.

Nie Zonghui coughed into his hand, but reluctantly admitted that maybe this wouldn’t turn out to be as bad as all that.

-

“Huaisang is a lovely name,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, being the best of them at diplomacy when she put her mind to it, although admittedly it was something she did only very rarely. “I think we were just expecting something a little different, that’s all.”

“Possibly something a little more fox related,” Nie Zonghui’s father said.

“Please,” the sect leader’s second wife said. “That would be gauche.”

They looked at her.

“…all of my suggestions along those lines got rejected,” she admitted, and glared at the small shrine in the corner as if it had personally wronged her. In this context, it very well might have.

“Is there anything we should keep an eye out for?” Nie Zonghui said, watching his little cousin carry around his even littler cousin under his arm as if he were a sack of potatoes and not a baby that hadn’t yet had its first month celebration. He would have interfered but for the fact that little Nie Huaisang seemed to be notably more in control of his various limbs than the usual infant. “A tail, for instance?”

“Oh, no,” the second lady said. “Nothing like that.”

“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“It’s very rare for fox children to achieve a grand plot worthy of a tail in their first lifetime.” A pause. “From what I understand, that is.”

“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “…great.”

“You’ll take good care of him when I’m gone, won’t you?” she asked, and when they all looked at her, smiled. “Not for another year or two, don’t worry, but I really can’t stay here that long. Sometimes, a girl’s got urges she has to take care of.”

“The sort of urges where we’d need to hunt down a mysteriously appearing fox yao for having murdered a lot of people?”

“I already promised to stop killing people,” she said sulkily. “Although I do think I made some plausible arguments in favor of a little bit of entirely justified murder in connection with the Jin sect and maybe the Lan sect and, oh, the Jiang sect –”

“Please don’t.”

“It’s not my fault your Great Sects are all headed by men who wrong women.”

“You’re not wrong,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, and Nie Zonghui’s father looked alarmed. “But still, don’t.”

“You’re such spoilsports. But no, as it happens, it’s getting to that time when I need to return home for a while to pay my respects to the older generation.”

“How often does that happen?” Nie Zonghui’s father asked. “Once a century?”

“A gentleman shouldn’t ask a lady her age,” she sniffed. “At any rate, my family home is rather far away and they’re fairly insular, so I’ll probably be gone for at least a decade or so. I’d take the baby with me, but, well, you know, long travel and all. He’s better off sticking with his father.”

“All right,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said. “We understand, and we’ll help take care of him as best we can.”

“I’m glad.”

“We have only one thing to ask of you in return.”

Their second lady arched her delicate eyebrows.

Nie Zonghui’s mother smiled. “You be the one to tell your sister-in-law that you’re leaving your post.”

“…you know, on second thought, maybe I can push my departure out a few more years…”

-

“Before you say anything, I want to be clear right now that I don’t need a third wife,” their sect leader said. “I’m fine.”

“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, not unaffectionately. “You’re not allowed a third wife.”

“And therefore – wait, really?” he asked, a little skeptically. “You’re not concerned about me?”

“Oh, we’re very concerned about you,” Nie Zonghui’s father said. “But not in that specific respect. Some celibacy would probably be good for you, at least in terms of increasing your life expectancy.”

“…my sister is lying in wait with a cleaver to make sure she doesn’t have to take on the duties of Nie-furen again, isn’t she.”

“I’m not discounting that possibility, but don’t worry about it, it’s fine, we’ll talk to her. The Lan sect haven’t had a proper hostess in years either, we can just say we’re following their example.”

The sect leader eyed his cousins beadily. “They haven’t had a proper sect leader in years, either.”

“No, you don’t say,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said dryly. “What a coincidence -”

“You have two fine sons,” Nie Zonghui’s father said hastily. “That seems like enough, really.”

“You don’t think they need a mother…?”

“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui interjected politely. “While we admit that it may be within your capabilities to be able to find a mother willing to deal with one step-son who has been waiving around a saber taller than he is since he learned to walk and has a penchant for the unyielding, unmerciful and very violent application of the norms of divine justice –”

Nie Mingjue’s presence bolstered the spirit of good men, while his gaze seemed to make evildoers itch. He was the most earnestly good person Nie Zonghui had ever met, and also one of the most stiff and unbending in respect to what he believed should and should not be done.

Unfortunate that his standards didn’t seem to match up to the needs of either human law or diplomacy…

“– as well as another who can scheme circles around anyone and persuade them of anything as long as he puts his mind to it and only doesn’t because he’s too busy lazing around in the sun to bother –”

Nie Huaisang liked to file his nails down to something that looked quite normal, but they grew sharp quickly enough if he wasn’t paying attention, and he had a penchant for pranks. There was nothing quite as unnerving as running into a sudden and unexpected ambush and then suddenly hearing the shrill peal of a fox’s laughter, hidden behind a scholarly fan.

“– but all things considered, we’d really rather you - didn’t.”

His mother and father nodded fervently.

“Good,” the sect leader said, though he still looked suspiciously at them as if he thought they were hiding something. “Good. As long as we’re agreed.”

-

Nie Zonghui walked in on his sect leader pinning the Wen sect leader to a wall, murmuring something in a low voice with a very particular smile on his face, and then he turned around and walked right back out again.

The sect leader of the Wen sect might appear beautiful and young, but he was at least a generation older than the Nie sect leader. Not that that had stopped the latter from relying on their respective positions to refer to him in startlingly intimate terms – my dear A-Han, the sect leader would say with a touch of wickedness that reminded one of his second son and the tiger gall bravery of his first – and while at first the Wen sect leader had taken it as a challenge to his authority, an act of brash insolence, it appeared that they had progressed beyond that.

That the Wen sect leader already had three wives and two concubines apparently didn’t present any obstacles either – except perhaps in what those poor women might have to endure from their husband when he returned from the wretched teasing he was enduring. Nie Zonghui felt a bit of pity for them.

Shortly thereafter, he felt a bit of pity for himself. The Wen sect had long dreamed of dominating the cultivation world and sought to increase their influence with the other sects through underhanded means, with the Nie sect opposing them at every turn. Even if war was not on the immediate horizon, the wise could smell its distant approach in the air - the best estimates said that it would take another decade or two to arrive, unless the Nie sect leader took an especially hard stance.

It appeared, however, that the Nie sect leader had chosen to take a different sort of…hard stance.

Ugh.

Maybe Nie Zonghui could conspire to throw his sect leader into a cage with a live tiger in heat next time he felt in the mood. It’d probably be less dangerous.

Nie Zonghui had assumed that the first person to talk to him about what he had seen would be his sect leader, even if it was only to remind him of the general rule that the sect leader had ultimate power and therefore could exercise his own bad judgment in deciding to fuck whoever he wished, but instead it was the Wen sect leader that found him later that afternoon.

A flush had yet to fully fade from his cheeks, and Nie Zonghui raised his eyes to the ceiling to avoid looking directly at the man in front of him. 

He did not want to know. Others might, given that no one had ever complained about the looks of either party, but he himself had realized long ago that he had no interest in matters of the flesh under any circumstances; he was very content with that conclusion.

“Is there some service this one can provide to Sect Leader Wen?” he asked politely, and it was only when the sect leader flushed again that he realized belatedly that his words could be misconstrued. After all, his own sect leader had probably already made a similar offer regarding the provision of services…

“Your sect leader has a sister, doesn’t he?” the other man asked, his voice tight and his hands in even tighter fists. “I’m not misremembering that?”

“He does,” Nie Zonghui responded honestly, and not without sympathy for the Wen sect leader’s position. He was given to understand that making certain belated discoveries regarding one’s own preferences could be highly disconcerting, particularly later in life. “But she’s rather different in kind than what you may be thinking, so it won’t work out that way. It wouldn’t work even if she wasn’t already married, which she is.”

After a moment of thought, he added, “Also, consider your predecessors.”

The Wen sect leader’s eyes narrowed.

-

Really, it was the sect leader’s own damn fault that he got himself murdered.

[candycityy]

rumour mill (special ops ft. 104th crack with a dollop of rivetra because it's the weekend, why the hell not)

Friendship is a confusing thing.

As such, despite Hanji Zoë's sheer oddness—Levi really doesn't know any other way to put it—he counts her as one of his very, very few friends. At least, inside his head.

It's a friendship that most people don't understand, him least of all. But for what they lack in the conventional features of friendship—things in common, trips to town, et cetera—they make up in one particularly powerful phenomenon: gossip.

"Kirschtein tried to send Ackerman a love letter today," Levi reports, the second they sit down at the officers' table. As expected, Hanji's jaw drops in quite a gratifying manner.

"No," she breathes. "How'd you know?"

The captain allows himself the faintest hint of a smirk. "I caught him hovering outside the women's barracks. Apparently there's some sort of holiday coming up—"

"St. Valentine's Day." The mad scientist nods wisely. "I'm familiar."

"Whatever," Levi snaps. "Anyway, he was just waiting outside there for the longest time, like a creep, clutching an envelope in his hands."

"For how long?"

"Ten minutes. I counted." Hanji lets out a muffled scream of laughter, which garners them a very pointed look from Erwin. Levi glares at her.

She shuts up.

"So, then, I finally go up to him and ask him what the fuck he's up to, and the brat looks like he's about to shit himself." He rolls his eyes. "It took some...persuasion...but he ended up confessing that he was trying to pass something to Ackerman."

"How'd you know it was a love letter, though? It could've been something lame, like a report," Hanji points out. He rolls his eyes.

"Four-Eyes, the envelope was scented. But that's not all."

"No!" Hanji repeats, looking like she's on the verge of passing out with excitement. "Then what happened? Did he end up passing it to her?"

"I was just about to send him off, but then guess who walks right out of the door." A wicked gleam flashes in his eyes. "Jaeger."

"He didn't!"

"He did. And then of course the shitty brat demands to know what he's doing there, and Kirschtein gets all defensive asking what he's doing there, and then Jaeger grabs the letter and reads it and I swear, he yells so loudly I was afraid he was gonna go all titan-mode on Kirschtein's ass."

"And I don't suppose the poor guy stood there and let him read it?"

Levi snorts. "Of course not. Kirschtein ended up in the med bay and Jaeger lost another tooth, but whatever, it's probably grown back already. But look." He nods discreetly at the recruits' table, where the two boys are resolutely glaring off in opposite directions, while Mikasa sits in between, obliviously tucking into her potato stew. "I guess they haven't made up yet, the brats."

"Poor things. Love is hard," Hanji says. She sounds almost sympathetic, and perhaps he'd believe she was, if not for the almost maniacally wide grin on her face.

Levi just sips at his tea and smirks.

==

The new members of the Survey Corps stares at the officers' table, where Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hanji appear be deep in conversation. As they watch, the brunette lets out a peal of laughter, and the ordinarily impassive captain's lips quirk into something that is almost a smile.

There's a collective intake of breath. "You see?" Connie whispers heatedly. "The captain smiled. I told you they had something going on."

"I think it's adorable," Krista goes dreamily. Ymir snorts.

"That's rubbish," she declares. "I don't think Captain Levi is capable of like, a relationship. He's too busy being a scary, frigid bastard."

"Keep your voice down," Eren implores, his eyes darting to the table. "And the captain's actually really nice—he's just, uh, got a strange way of showing it."

"Whatever, Jaeger, we all know you have some sort of hero-worship crush on the captain anyway—"

"I do not!"

"As if Eren would ever," Mikasa sniffs. "As if anyone would ever like that shorty, he's so full of himself—"

"Keep your voice down." Eren looks around nervously. "And I honestly don't think Captain Levi has anything going on with Squad Leader Hanji. In fact, if anything..." He lowers his voice dramatically, and everyone leans in, even Ymir. "I'd suspect he has something on with Ms Petra."

There's a shocked silence. Sasha interrupts it by bursting into laughter. "Petra Ral? The lady in your squad?" she giggles. "You've got to be joking, she's way too nice for him."

"And way too cute," Jean interrupts with a snigger. "Although, at least she's shorter than him, ha—"

"I still think he has something going on with Squad Leader Hanji," Connie says firmly. He grins mischievously. "And if there are any disagreements...well, anyone care to settle it with a bet?"

==

"Guys," Eld announces, striding into the room and grinning like he's just won the lottery, "you'll never believe what I overheard at dinner."

Petra yawns. Gunther shrugs. "Don't know, don't care," Auruo goes, wincing as he stretches in his chair. "Training was a bitch today, I just wanna get to bed."

"Well, you'll reconsider when you hear this." The squad's second-in-command leans forward, his eyes gleaming. "The captain and Squad Leader Hanji have something going on."

For a moment, no-one moves.

"Wow." Auruo stares at him with awe. "Did you take a hit on the head with a tree branch this morning or something?"

"Even if it was true, you've some nerve telling us." Gunther rolls his eyes in amused disbelief. "The captain could walk in any minute, you know."

"I'm keeping a lookout," Eld insists. "But it's true! I overheard the kids talking about it, and you know that Captain Levi spends almost all his time with them these days, them and the Jaeger brat. They must've seen or heard something."

"If the captain was dating anyone, Petra'd be the first to know," Gunther points out wisely, and turns to their sole female squadmate, and Captain Levi's alleged favourite "Right, Pet...?"

He trails off when he catches sight of the look on the woman's face. Her usually sunny demeanour has been replaced by something pale, stony-faced, and all in all quite terrifying.

There's an awkward silence. "Petra?" Eld ventures. "Is it...is it true then? About the captain dating—"

"Dating who, now?"

Everyone except Petra leaps to their feet instantly, their eagerness quelling to a deer-in-headlights guilt as the man in question stalks through the doors, as silently and with rather the same, threatening air of a predator cornering its prey.

"Eld, you ass," Gunther mutters out of the side of his mouth at the failed lookout.

Auruo, on the other hand, glances sideways at Petra, who remains seated, the strange, cold fury still on her face, her fists clenched at her sides. "What are you doing?" he hisses. "Get up."

She ignores him. "Captain," she says instead, her voice frighteningly calm, "Eld was just talking about a rumour he'd heard."

The man laughs nervously. "Petra," he mutters through a forced smile, "I don't think the captain needs to hear about this."

She continues on, as though she hadn't heard him. "Apparently," she says, her words taking on a note so decidedly threatening that even Humanity's Strongest soldier starts looking slightly nervous, "you're dating Squad Leader Hanji. Is that true, sir?"

The last word hangs in the air, like a warning. The captain blinks.

And makes a sound low in his throat that sounds almost, incredibly, like a muffled snort.

For some reason, Petra seems to take offense at it. She shoves her chair back, sends him one last look of absolute loathing (the boys suck in bated breaths at that), and flounces out of the room, slamming the door bodily behind her.

No-one says anything. The captain's expression doesn't shift a centimetre.

"...uh, sir?" Gunther finally ventures, after a full thirty seconds of silence. "Are you...all right?"

The question seems to snap him out of his reverie. He rounds on Eld, even as his face remains a mask of deadly calm.

"Where," he asks icily, "did you hear that?"

"The kids," Eld confesses after a moment's hesitation.

Captain Levi mutters a curse under his breath.

==

Several fingers point, at once, to Connie Springer.

He sputters, looking around wildly at the traitors. "It wasn't just me!" he cries, and glares accusingly at his comrades. "Krista, you agreed, too!"

Ymir steps protectively in front of the blonde girl. "Don't you pin this on her," she snarls.

"Well, she did," Mikasa says, as deadpan as ever. "So? What's this about? Is it true, sir?" The recruits turn a shade paler at her blunt remark. Eren elbows her in the side, and yelps as his arm collides with what seems to be a wall of solid muscle.

Levi glares at the lot of them. "You shitty brats really don't have a brain cell between the lot of you, do you," he barks. "I've never heard anything so stupid in my life."

"If I may, sir," Mikasa goes smoothly, even as Sasha hisses at her to shut up already, "if it was rubbish anyway, why waste your time coming after us? Gossip isn't exactly a subject worth your attention.

"Yes, captain," another voice comes snidely from behind him. It's Petra, arms folded and glaring daggers, lips twisted in a frown that looks quite out of place on her ordinarily cheerful face. "Why bother?"

Eren's eyes widen, darting rapidly from the captain to his pissed-off subordinate. A look of gleeful understanding dawns on his face.

"Oh," he breathes. "Ms Petra, you're dating the captain, aren't you?"

There's an awkward silence. "None of your business," Levi snaps, just as Petra replies, "No."

The captain turns to her, incredulously. "No?"

"Did I say something wrong, sir?" she drawls. They glare at each other in a silent argument that goes on for a few heated moments, before Levi finally looks away.

"Fine," he growls. "I'm not with Four-Eyes. I'm...I'm with Ral here. And no-one outside this room needs to hear a fucking word of this, understand?"

"Yes, sir!" the recruits chorus in unison, thumping their fists over their hearts with suppressed grins. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Connie Springer and Sasha Braus discreetly exchange coins.

He decides to ignore this.

"Anything else?" he asks, folding his arms and turning his best glare on them.

Nobody dares to move. At least, until Eren raises a tentative hand.

"If it helps," he volunteers, "I betted on you, Ms Petra."

Petra doesn't smile. "Thank you, Eren."

==

"Captain!" Eld exclaims, bursting into the room two days later. "Is it true that you and Pet—"

"Fucking hell."

[chudleycanonficfest]

Make a Move

Day 9, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: Make a Move

Author: adenei

Pairing: Frank/Alice Longbottom

Prompt: You did WHAT?!

Rating: T

TW: mild language

**********

Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad. What have I done?

Frank paces the floor of the seventh-year boy’s dormitory. He’s not even sure what possessed him to do it. Since when has he actually proven himself as a Gryffindor when it comes to the opposite sex? He hasn’t—because he’s always been a blundering imbecile when it comes to women. And today has proven no different.

“Frank, mate, what’s wrong?” Robbie Burke shuts the door to the dormitory behind him.

“I—I asked—ah, don’t make me say it again!” Frank throws his hands in the air as he shakes his head from side to side, his sandy-blond hair falling in front of his eyes as a result.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad,” Robbie urges Frank to confide in him.

Frank takes a deep breath to ground himself as he sits on the bed and covers his face with his hands.

“I asked Alice to the Christmas Ball,” he mutters.

“Bloody hell, that’s brilliant, mate! Good for you!” Robbie claps Frank on the shoulder in celebration but pauses when Frank looks up at him, his caramel eyes wrought with dismay. 

“Oh, no, did she say no?” Robbie winces at the premature celebration.

“Not exactly,” Frank huffs.

“But she didn’t say yes?”

“Er…”

“Frank—”

“I ran away before she could answer!” Frank admits his wrongdoing and prepares for the onslaught of profanities that’s about to erupt out of his best friend’s mouth.

“You did WHAT? Bloody buggering hell, mate!”

“I know, I know, I was a coward! But she looked so surprised, and she’s so cool, and I’m so...not, and then I started thinking, ‘why would she ever want to go with me’, and I panicked!”

So much for being a Gryffindor, I can’t even ask a girl out! 

Granted, Alice Fortescue wasn’t just any witch. She was popular, kind, easy-going, and always friendly to everyone. Plus, she was the girl you went to if you were looking to smuggle food and Butterbeer from the kitchens.

Frank has been holding a torch for Alice for as long as he can remember. He recalls how she was the first person he locked eyes with after being sorted into Gryffindor, how she beamed up at him and patted the bench for him to sit next to her. That’s the moment that Frank associates as the beginning of their friendship.

Over the years, Frank and Alice’s friendship has grown into a strong bond of the pair looking out for each other. They’ve worked through countless assignments together, where Frank is always happy to help Alice out with Potions. And Alice teaches Frank about a new jinx or hex that’s been created to cause chaos in return since his shyness has often made him an easy target. 

It was probably sometime between fourth and fifth year that Alice’s infectious laughter and warm smiles began to stir something deeper within Frank. He’s grown accustomed to their study sessions, and late-night hangouts that include swapping stories of Alice’s experiences in the duelling club and gossip Frank overhears during his weekly Gobstones meetings. 

But now, he’s certain he’s ruined their friendship. After a year of wrestling with his feelings and trying to decide whether he should go for it and ask Alice out, he half-asses the invitation and throws their entire amicable relationship down the toilet. How is he supposed to face her for their biweekly revising session? Bloody hell, what’s he going to do if the two of them get accepted into the Auror Academy together? Frank lays his head back on the bed and grabs the pillow so he can smother himself with it.

“Frank, stop, I’m sure it’s not the end of the world.”

“You weren’t there. You didn’t see the look on her face.” His voice is muffled by the pillow, causing Robbie to grab it and pull it away.

“No, I wasn’t, care to describe it for me?”

“Mortification.”

Robbie smacks him with the pillow before tossing it aside. “Gonna need some more details than that.”

“I don’t know. It was clear I took her by surprise. She just stared at me, with her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything. Nora and Melanie were giggling. The last thing I remember seeing was her turning to them, and I used that moment to hoof it on out of there.”

“You are hopeless.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

“What do you want me to say? I’ve been trying to convince you to ask her out for ages. I’m telling you, Alice Fortescue has a smile that’s only for you. Never once in seven years has she seemed interested in any other bloke, and she chooses to spend all her extra time with you. Bugger if I know why.”

Frank ponders Robbie’s words but doesn’t allow himself to believe them. Alice is his brave and ballsy friend, the one who takes life by its wings and steers it in the direction she wants. If she fancied him back, why hasn’t she made a move first? And then it hits him.

“Merlin’s pants, Robbie, what if she isn’t into bl—”

A knock on the door cuts him off. Both boy’s heads swivel toward the sound as the knob turns and the door swings open. It’s Alice who peeks her head in. She observes the room and takes note of both seventh-years before she speaks.

“Oh, hi Robbie! I was wondering if I could maybe speak to Frank for a mo’?”

“Hey, Alice. Yeah, sure, I was just, er, leaving.” 

Robbie grabs his wand and school bag and slips past her. Frank notices that he pauses to turn back in the doorway to mouth a ‘good luck’ before shutting the door behind him. Standing in front of Frank now, Alice asks,

“Mind if I sit down?”

“N-no, go for it,” Frank stammers. “I—er, sorry about earlier.”

Frank’s not sure why he’s apologizing as Alice sits down. It seems like the right thing to say as he avoids looking at her at all costs. He picks at a nonexistent speck of dirt on his trousers to distract himself.

“You are?” 

Frank chances a glance in Alice’s direction and sees her eyebrows both raise and scrunch together in confusion. He’s not sure if he’s imagining it or if there’s actually hurt and disappointment in her eyes.

“Er, yeah. I mean, no? I mean—”

“You took off before I had a chance to answer you.”

Bloody hell, why do women have to be so damn confusing? 

Frank has no idea what she’s thinking, and despite being friends since they were eleven, he can’t seem to gauge her feelings at all. At this point, he’s torn between brushing the whole thing off and saying he was extending the invitation as a friend or summoning the last ounce of Gryffindor courage that might be hiding somewhere inside him to go for it and ask her out officially. Instead, he chooses neither.

“Did you come up here to give me an answer, then?”

“Yes.”

Frank waits for Alice to continue, expecting her to give him either a clear yes or no, but she just stares at him, making him feel ten times more awkward.

“Right, so…”

Alice lets out an unbecoming snort. “Frank, you really are slow on the uptake, aren’t you?”

“Huh?”

“My answer to your question is yes. I’d like to go to the Christmas Ball with you.”

“You—you would?”

Now, it’s Frank’s turn to be shocked. Only in his wildest dreams did he expect her to actually say yes!

Alice nods as she smiles before grazing her bottom lip with her teeth. “As a date, right?”

Frank’s heart momentarily stops, and he has to remind himself to breathe. “I—uh—I, y-yeah! I mean, only if you want it to be a—”

“I do,” she responds eagerly. Her knee is bouncing up and down.

He almost doesn’t hear her confirmation as he babbles on, “—because we don’t, not if it would make things—wait, you do?”

Alice chuckles at his nervousness. “Yeah, and you could have saved yourself all the misery that I’m sure you just put yourself through with overthinking if you’d waited for my response.”

Merlin, she knows me so well. “But Nora and Melanie—”

  “—were giggling because I’ve been hoping you’d ask me out for ages now.”

If Frank could look into a mirror, he’s sure his facial expression would match the one Alice had given him when he’d first asked the question out in the corridor. So many thoughts were racing through his mind that it was a miracle he was able to form a sentence.

“But then, why didn’t you ever ask me?’

Alice shrugs before leaning in and boldly pressing her lips to Frank’s cheek before whispering into his ear, “because I guess there’s still some old-fashioned methods I put stock in, like the bloke making the first move.”

Frank is frozen. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to while all his dreams were coming true. By the time his brain tells the rest of his body to react to Alice’s gesture, she’s already up and halfway to the door. Before exiting, she turns back and winks at Frank.

“I’ve got to go make some plans with the girls, but I’ll see you in the library at seven, yeah? That Auror entrance exam won’t study for itself, even though I wish it would.”

All Frank can manage is a meager nod as he processes the whirlwind of the last half hour. He is going to the Christmas Ball with Alice. She fancies him. Does that mean she’s his girlfriend now? So many questions flood his mind, but one thing was certain: Frank can’t wait to find the answers.

[kashimos-hajime]

late night devils | b.b.

summary: bucky gets revenge on his ex with you, the girl he never got over no matter how much he thought he did.

WARNINGS: smut (18+, oral - m receiving), daddy kink, sub/dom elements, y’all out here being nasty and vindictive, drinking, swearing, mentions of cheating pairing: modern!bucky x fem!reader word count: 5.0k

a/n: smut with very little plot bc i have no brain for it. enjoy heheheh ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) bucky is PUSSYWHIPPED ngl

Bucky doesn’t expect to get a call asking for him to come over when he’s sitting at the bar counter, but he gets it and if he could, he’d break his phone in his fist.

“I told you, Dot, it’s fucking over.” The music is blasting in the club, bright with life, as Bucky tips back another shot. It’s a busy Thursday night. The dance floor is nearly completely occupied and the bass thrums through the floor as he tries to let his ex down gently as he has been for the past ten minutes.

“You can’t be serious. You think you can just walk out after three years—”

Alright. That’s enough.

“And do you think you can just call me like I’m some fucking booty call three days before your wedding after you dropped me like I was fucking nothing? No. Goodnight.” 

Tapping his screen to hang up, Bucky sets down his phone with a hard sigh and gestures to Sam for another line of shots. His hand was burning from how long he held the stupid phone for, and he cools it down by cradling his vodka glass, pushing it back and forth between his hands.

“Dot, again?”

“Yeah.”

“Tough, man. I’ll get you some shots when I get Romanoff off her little blondie’s lap” His friend taps the bar counter in a show of support before heading to the end where Natasha was flirting with one certain blond man. Steve. AKA their resident bouncer currently off duty. Bucky rolls his eyes, smiling for a moment as Natasha turns around. The two give a talk before Natasha ducks underneath the countertop door and slips into the crowd, Steve in hand.

“Hey, Sam!” A sharp, too-sober voice catches Bucky’s hearing and he turns to see a woman wrapped in a leather jacket and tight fucking jeans burst through the crowd. Rain is still glistening along your shoulders and you pull your hair out from underneath your jacket. You wear a hoodie beneath the leather and as you lean against the bar beside him, he catches the words printed onto the chest.

Yes, I’m single. It reads, bright white against the black of your hoodie. Now’s your chance.

His eyebrows rise as you catch Sam’s attention. His friend glances at you but Bucky merely shrugs, looks at you, and thinks, A regular? Fine. I’ll bite.

“What’s the strongest you’ve got?” You tap your fingers impatiently and he watches the strobe lights glint on your black nails as you lean forward on your arms. He shifts back and you send him a glance, eyebrow arched as your eyes rake visibly over his form. Damn, you’re confident, and when you grin, he decides maybe you’ll be an apt distraction from his fucking problems.

“Not the usual?”

“Need something stronger tonight, Sammy,” you sing and he grins.

“I’ll make you something special. Let’s work up to Everclear, yeah?” Sam turns to Bucky, leaning onto his elbows. “Whaddya say, boss? Break out the Everclear for a pretty girl?”

“Now, hold up,” Bucky says, putting up a hand to catch your attention and he smirks as Sam brings out ten shot glasses pinched between his fingers.

“Hey.” Your eyes flicker over his body visibly and he smirks, twisting slightly to look at you fully. His knees part widely and maybe it’s the alcohol he’s already had, but it looks like you glance right between his legs.

“Hey.” The red lights swing their way, blinding him for a moment before it’s gone again. Sam lines up the shot glasses and Bucky watches as he pours them overflowing before glancing at you again. “Wanna? On the house.”

“Are we working up to body shots?” you ask slyly, sliding into the empty stool as he shrugs, grabbing the first one on his end. You take one from the other and throw it back as he does the same. It burns all the way down.

“If you wanna,” he says with a shrug and you laugh. “Hold on the Everclear, Sam. Let’s get to know the pretty lady first.” You snort into your second shot as Sam shakes his head when someone flags him down.

“Well, I’ve gotta get to work,” he says pointedly. “But you kids have fun.”

“Fine by me.” Bucky shrugs. “That just means I get all your attention.”

“Don’t like sharing?”

He half-laughs, pushing down shot three and four in rapid succession before slamming the glasses down on the wood. “Nope. I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“Consider me charmed.”

“No name?”

“I’m not looking for names tonight,” you say before you order another line of shots.

Something about you is undeniably charming. You give the air that he’s known you his whole life as you talk and listen and laugh. He gravitates towards you as you speak and talks about everything when you listen because he has this feeling you won’t judge him. It’s something about the confidence, the way you don’t give a fuck about what he thinks of you. It’s so different from Dot.

Dot, who worried about what that girl was thinking about Bucky or what that guy thought about her. And there was nothing wrong with caring, but Bucky couldn’t bear to give a shit about anything anymore.

“So you’re here because of a broken heart?” you point out after he explained his phone call prior to their meeting and he chuckles, the vodka making his head pulse with the beat in the club. The red and blue lights flash and blur in his vision but your face is still clear.

“Nah. I don’t love her,” he says, turning to the mojitos he ordered for the both of them. Yours is half gone, his gone completely. “Just… sick of being some stupid second fucking choice. She leaves me for a millionaire then comes crawling back for one last fuck. Fucking ridiculous,” he spits, grabbing your mojito and sucking it down.

“You’re preaching to a damn choir,” you say scathingly.

“Husband?” he pries and you eye him for a moment knowingly.

“Boyfriend. Left me for some kid in high school. We’re fucking third year college, man. That shit’s so gross and I’m ready to beat the shit out of him. Might as well do it drunk.”

“Hah, I did that once.”

“Get with a highschooler?” you ask, voice tinging with something judgmental and he laughs because it’s such an outrageous notion and he can’t help but agree. Fucking nasty.

“Fuck, no. I had a best friend I was fucking in love with,” he begins, the mint cool against his tongue. “High school. Got creeped on by some older dude and I beat the fuck out of him when he got too close for her liking. Got expelled, never saw her again after her grad when I realized she was probably going to head to uni and go big, but damn if it was worth it, even if it meant she went with someone else to fucking prom. Fucking Brock Rumlow.” His eyes drift to yours as you stare at him and he chews on his straw, explaining in the briefest of sentences. “Resident asshole of our year.”

There’s a quiet where he sets down the mojito again, and his head is swimming with memories. At the last time he saw the girl of his dreams, graduation cap pinned to hair and a sunset burnishing their street gold.

“No fucking way. Bucky?” you say and he looks at you from his—your—drink. “As in James Buchanan Barnes?” you ask with a scoff evident in your voice and he arches an eyebrow. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“What—” His insides are on fire, and his eyes fall to your lips as you press them into a frown. “Who?”

“You fucker!” You slug him in the arm and he yelps, clutching the offended bicep as you take him by the shoulders. “You fucking left me!” He is forced to look at you as your eyes search his. They’re dark with something he thinks is bitter love, and his eyebrows knit together. What is his luck with women lately?

“Who the fuck are you?” he yells over the thundering music, but his answer is swallowed up by a pair of searing lips. Fists in the lapel of his suit jacket, he groans into your mouth as his hand darts to your hips. He drags you flush against him and you crash into his body. Hitching a leg over his, he feels up your hoodie and you open up beneath his mouth. Your hips dip against his as you jump into his lap and he holds you there by the thighs, squeezing the flesh through your jeans.

“Fuck, James,” you whisper and he feels it all again in a heartbeat. That intense, selfish love that seized him as he walked away from you. The way he fucked you in the bathroom before the ceremony, gown bunched at your waist, pants barely shoved past his hips. The curious disgust every time he got with someone that wasn’t the girl from the stall. It’s you. “God, don’t you recognize me?”

These past few years dating Dot, feeling like he’d move past a tiny infatuation, obliterated to nothing as your voice tears down his defenses. Tears down everything he’s built, every lie that you’re nothing more than the past.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against your desperate lips and you sink into his lap deeper, arms wrapped around his neck. “Fuck. Yes.” He tilts his chin up when you run your teeth along his neck and his eyes close shut. Heat is surging to his cock at the thought of tearing you apart here and his jeans tighten as your hips grind down against his. “Could never fucking forget you. Grown ass woman, now, huh?”

“Fuck me,” you whisper, pulling off of him though it’s more of an order and he nods, standing up with a stagger. Your hand is insistent on his wrist, hand melting through his skin.

“I live five minutes away,” he mumbles, drunk off his ass. When he looks at you, he doesn’t see smokey eyes or mulberry painted lips. You weren’t always so dark, direct, rough around the edges.

No, you were bright eyes and strawberry lip gloss once. Straight A’s, straighter laces. By the books and popular and pretty and innocent until he got you on his bed and ate it out of you.

Maybe he fucked the good girl out of you.

He doesn’t mind. He already knows he likes it when you’re bad.

.

“Fuck.”

His nails scratch down your back pleasantly and you purr, pressing him deeper into his couch. You’ve managed to slip out of all your clothes on the walk up and his hand digs into your hip, his other hand working against your slick heat. The heel of his hand rubs against your clit as you lift and sink into three fingers. Your walls clench around him and he groans at the tight suction as his phone rings.

“Ignore it,” you mumble, kissing him sloppily and his tongue glides against yours, burning with vodka. His hand runs up your back to grab your hair and he yanks your head back, licking down your neck. “James—”

“Fucking missed this, sweetheart. Fuck. Missed this pussy more than anything else,” he groans. Your pants whisper against his ear as your hands roll into fists against his head. Your arms wrapped around his neck, you rock your hips against his hand desperately. “Come on.”

You moan right into his ear when his wrist flicks up and his fingers plunge deeper into you, wet with the first orgasm he’s wrenched from you just like this. It breaks and your whole body shudders. Your walls tightens around his digits and he increases the speed of his fingers. Your legs trembling, you let out a hoarse cry.

Your voice breaks and your nails dig into the nape of his neck as you come on his fingers. Your thighs clench around him as he bends his finger inside you and you choke out a moan. A pulse travels through your body as he lazily plays with your engorged clit and you twitch with every gentle stroke as he pulls you through your high.

His phone lights up. Ding. Ding. Ding. And then, his ringtone blaring in the thick heat of his room. 

You’re sweating against him, resting your whole body on him as you kiss along the cord of his neck and he bites his lip, groaning. You nip along his collarbone before soothing it with your tongue, tasting the alcohol he’s beginning to sweat.

Lazy love.

“She’s not gonna stop fucking calling,” Bucky whispers in defeat, hand stalling inside you and you groan in frustration, hips grinding against his heel. Prompting yourself up, you frown. “Fuck. I have to pick up.” He bites into your breast, licking your nipple in passing before leaning over to grab his phone. Your legs widen, and you lower yourself deeper into his lap as he keeps a hand firmly on your ass.

“For fuck’s sake,” you growl, slipping your hand down his cock and he lets out a groan against your shoulder. His cheek pressed against your joint, he stares at the Caller ID in dread. “She treated you like dirt and you’re still picking up her calls? I think you should just put her in her place.” The venom in your tongue makes something inside him twitch, makes him want to just pin you down and put you in your place because you don’t know shit and Dot isn’t worth my time anyway but instead, he slaps your ass and shifts his legs apart.

“Alright, that’s enough. I’m picking up that call no matter what, sweetheart.”

“Are you serious?”

“Get on your knees.” You pause and he turns to you, a thrill boiling through his blood as he slaps your ass. “Let’s put that mouth to use.” Your eyes go black with lust as you swallow, sinking to the floor between his legs, and he chuckles, spreading his legs farther apart. Your fingers trail along the line of his hips, lips whispering along his thighs as he clears his throat. The phone is still ringing in his hands as he looks down at you and arches an eyebrow. You’re smirking and he grabs one of your curious hands and wraps it firmly around his dick. “Get to work.”

As soon as he’s in your mouth, he picks up. You run your palm down the base of him as you take him in deeper and he lets out a sigh. You’re warm, wet, and he tilts his head back when you swallow. Eyes closing, he lets out a hoarse breath and tries not to give himself away too quickly.

“Bucky?”

“Who is this?” he asks, toying with her, weaving his free hand in your hair. He ups the volume, just enough so you can catch a hint of a word or two over the wet sounds of your mouth.

“It’s your Dotty, Buck.”

Pressing down on his thighs, you angle your head to take him further as if you’re displeased he’s even talking to her at the moment, jealous, even, but he simply grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs you back right, keeping himself just as deep down your throat. You gag, swallowing again.

“Yeah. What do you want?” His words come out breathless. He raises his head just enough to watch you work, eyes glued to the way your fingers, wrapped around him, move up and down. Your eyes are blown out with lust, already on his face and you smile against his thigh as you seem to take him down further. Wet lips wrapped around his cock, hair a mess around your face, it paints a pretty sight. Your tongue flattens against the underside of his length, and he groans when you slowly pull off. It’s an agonizing ecstasy, the way you seem to swallow him deeper despite drawing away. “Oh, fuck. Just like that, sweetheart. That was good, baby, That was good.”

“‘M I being good, daddy?” you ask, voice muffled, and his hips thrust into your mouth just as his hand forces you down, and he closes his eyes at the heat searing his blood. You’re so fucking good.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Don’t worry ‘bout a thing.” He cradles the phone closer to his face. “Fuck. Dot, what do you want again?” he asks. The line is nearly dead and a flash of satisfaction hits him as you moan quietly against his cock. The vibration shoots up to his stomach and he hisses out a breath. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” You bob your head between his thighs, the hand not around him digging into his hip. You hollow out your cheeks, the suction sending his head into the stars as the slick sound of your mouth ceases when you simply keep him in your cheek, blown pupils wide and innocent. Your hips twitch against his foot, seeking friction and he smirks. His needy little girl.

Bucky lets go of your hair, patting your cheek before wiping away the trail of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. He leans forward, dragging you off his dick with a slight pop and a chill brushes against his length as Bucky pinches your chin between his thumb and index finger.

Pressing an open-mouthed kiss against your panting lips, he doesn’t care if Dot can hear every single fucking sound.

He pulls away before you have a chance to reciprocate and your whine follows him as he sinks back into the couch. His hand finds your hair again, guiding you back down his length and you seem to sink back onto your knees. He plunges endlessly down your throat as he clears his own, nearly forgetting he really is on the phone. 

“Sorry, Dot. I’m a little distracted right now,” he says nonchalantly, the smile working onto his face.

“If you’re busy—”

“Nah.” You purr at the lie and he tugs your hair as he stifles a moan—a warning with no merit. He keeps you still despite your impatient wiggle and he opens his eyes, simply admiring your face full of his cock. Your eyes are at half mast as you rest your head against his thigh, and his finger traces down your cheek, along your jawbone, as he adds, “You’ve been blowing up my phone all night. You’ve got my attention now, darling.”

“Bucky,” Dot intones, sounding a bit tense and Bucky can’t help but wonder why, “seriously. It’s fine. You clearly have other company.”

“Oh, don’t worry. My girl over here’s just keeping me warm. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” He moves the phone from his ear to your mouth where he taps your cheek and you let out a soft, garbled moan, eyes fluttering shut. Bringing the phone back to his ear, he chuckles. “You tired, baby? You getting tired?” His tone is mocking and you’re subdued by the way he commands the air as you nod. Your jaw must be aching as you hold onto his thighs and lean against his leg. You’re a sprawled mess against him. “She’s getting tired, Dotty. Make it quick so I can take care of her.”

“Bucky, this isn’t you. What are you doing?” Dot exclaims but he doesn’t care as he lets out a long, guttural groan at your tongue running along his length in your mouth. Still trying to earn his graces.

“Finally getting the time of my life after you left me high and dry for a fucking year. I’m moving on just like how you did during our relationship. How’s the wedding planning? Feeling nervous?” he asks tightly as you swallow, teeth grazing along his skin and he looks down at you. Warning you for real this time. “Watch it, sweetheart.”

“It’s going… okay. Bucky, I… I didn’t want you to be doing this while I talked to you, but please, listen to me. I’m still in love with you.”

You pull off his dick with a long stroke of your tongue and he groans, hand tugging at your hair as you climb up his body. You nip at his skin along the way, your whole body stretching languidly against his as you brace a knee on either side of his hips and sit down in his lap.

“Seriously?” You press kiss after kiss around his face, long fingers wrapped around his cock and rubbing it slowly. Your purr rumbles in your chest as you dip your head to suck a mark into the underside of his jaw and he runs a hand down your back, cupping your ass. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too late right now?”

“You're not giving me any attention, daddy,” you whine with a pout, his dick against your abdomen, just there and he knows you must be aching for it to speak up. Leaning in close, you place your mouth along the cheek where the phone is, trailing tiny little teasing kisses along his swollen lips and flushed cheeks. He tries to snag your lips but you merely pull away and bounce in his lap impatiently. His cock brushes against your stomach, painfully hard, and a groan rips through his throat as you gently settle a hand on his chest.

“I know, baby. Just give daddy a moment, alright?” Bucky murmurs and you pout, your hand pulling at his dick. His hips twitch, jerking into your fist as you lay your head on his chest, slouching against him, kissing his jaw fleetingly. “Be a good girl.”

“Okay,” you mumble as you lazily pump him. Your thumb presses softly against the tip, spreading precum down his shaft and he groans, tipping his head back and closing his eyes again. You smile against his collarbone as you speed up the pace of your hand. A tight-lipped groan in his chest, he runs a hand up and down the curve of your back.

“It’s a mistake. This wedding’s a mistake,” Dot pleads as you watch his expression. He can feel your stare burning into his neck as you press quiet kisses against his chest. A knot tightens in his navel. “I know the way I treated you was shitty, and I know you must’ve moved on, but—”

“Dot, you left me, cheated on me, lied to me about everything.” Bucky bites down on his lower lip. “Fuck. You’re doing so good, sweetheart.” You hum against his chest. The crash is so close and your palm slows down. Growling, he looks up and pins you with a glare, but you merely look at him innocently and he sighs, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “I have moved on. It’s been a year since we broke up and I think it’s time you did, too.” You raise your head off his chest, shifting in his lap as you straddle his hips upright. His eyes follow you like a wolf as he tries to calm down from the high that never came. His hips twitch against your legs and he lets out a growl when you move your hand away.

“Bucky, wait—”

The phone is plucked from his hand and a protest builds up in his throat as you rest your other hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you, lips parted and you smile, sickly sweet. In the dim light of his room, he sees the way the shadows play dangerously on your face. His hand on your back slides to your hip, and his lips find your left nipple as he sinks his other hand into the flesh of your ass.

“Dot?” you ask sweetly as if you’ve no awareness at all, but by the way your eyes flutter, you’re well aware of his mischief. “Hey. Jamie’s a bit busy at the moment. Can you call him tomorrow?” Your smile sits on your face as it turns smug. “Great. Bye!” You hang up and toss the phone onto the coffee stand before cupping his face and kissing him fiercely. It bruises his mouth, sloppy open-mouthed kisses, and he groans as you raise your hips and slide him right in like their bodies were made for each other. His vision explodes in stars as you sink, his cock buried deep inside you.

“Fuck was that?” he mumbles when you part from him for a moment to breathe. Your hips slowly swing against his, taking him in deeper with every move as your hands, still cradling his face, burn through his cheeks. His hands run up and down your sides, your front, and you sigh at the rough palms against your sensitive nipples before he hoists you up more comfortably on his lap. “Jamie? I’m not fucking five.” He thrusts up with his question and your breath hitches.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry..” Your lip caught between your teeth, you rock against him faster and his hips lift to meet your thrusts as you tilt your head back. You arch against him, eyes squeezed shut and he pushes your body forward, teeth running over your breasts. “Fuck, James.”

“Bad girl, hm.” His eyes close and your fingers run through his hair, hug his head to your chest. Your moans are a symphony in his ear and you bounce in his lap, knees digging into the cushions.

“Yes, daddy,” you whine into his ear, gasping and the way your every word becomes high-pitched makes him want to fuck you through the couch. You're complete putty in his hands, warm like fire and malleable to his touch, and he kisses the valley of your breasts, his hands tracing the curve of your spine. “I’ve been so, so bad.”

He digs his fingers into your skin and twists, letting you fall onto the couch as he slides his palms down to grab your legs. Everything he touches is wet, burning, and the squelch of your pussy around his cock sends him into overdrive as he puts your legs up on his shoulders. Your eyes are squeezed shut and your mouth is open in a silent moan when he thrusts deeply into you at this new angle. Your hands find his and fingers interlace as he pins your wrists to the armrests above your head.

Smirking, he pushes deeper into you with no grace or rhythm and you thrash against him, mewling at his slowing pace, begging to go faster with the way your wriggle your hips back against him. “Daddy, I—”

“Shh, sweetheart. Now that I’m not busy anymore, I think daddy’s gonna have to teach you a lesson.” Your eyes barely open at his words and he smirks, making sure your attention doesn’t stray for a moment. “Keep those eyes on me, sweetheart.” You bite down on your lip, trying to stem desperate gasps but he growls a warning as he speeds up to a punishing pace. You’re overstimulated, exhausted, but still you try to push back against him, try to get him as deep as he can get.

You’re so eager to please with those plush, pink lips. “Yes, daddy. I’m sorry, I’ve been bad.”

“Sorry for what?” he wonders aloud just as your eyes squeeze shut and he feels your peak in the way your abdomen goes taut. Slowing down again, he nearly laughs at your disappointed whines. He pulls out completely, waiting for an answer and you cry out at the loss of fulfillment. Your legs lock around his neck. “I’m waiting.”

“Daddy, please... please, I was so close.”

“Give me an answer.” His tip brushes against your heat and you shove your hips forward. “How’re you gonna apologize when you don’t even know what for? How’m I gonna fix it?”

“Please...”

“I’m waiting, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen, daddy.”

He slowly pushes in again and your mouth drops open in an oh as you welcome him easily. You’re so damn wet that he slides in all the way he can with no problem. You lift your hips, heels digging into his back, and he slowly begins to thrust into you again. The sound of his hips meeting yours punishingly, the wet slap of skin against skin is the only sound in the room besides your panting breaths.

Bucky smiles.

“I’m gonna teach you a lesson not to talk out of turn tonight, understood? G’na teach you that when daddy’s on the phone, when daddy’s busy with other things, you behave if you wanna stay around,” he whispers, voice darkening with every word and your breasts heave as he runs a hand down your body. Fingers sneaking between their bodies, he presses a thumb against your clit and you fall apart with a shameless moan that bursts from your heaving chest. 

Bucky wonders how he ever moved past you. You with makeup streaking down your pretty pouty face.

He didn’t. He never did.

“Oh, god,” you groan, dreadfully broken, still trying to recover but Bucky’s not finished with you yet. No, he’s going to make up for lost time for the rest of his life he can. “Fuck… James. Oh, god.” Your walls clench around him, dragging at his cock as he pauses inside you and he lets go of your wrists. Your legs slip off his shoulders.

“You miss me, sweetheart?” he murmurs, nuzzling your cheek and you pant, nodding weakly. He turns to ensnare you into a heavy, tongue-filled kiss as he sucks on your bottom lip. “Miss me a lot?”

“Yes, daddy,” you mumble, voice warped by his incessant kisses and he smiles, ravishing your mouth with his teeth and tongue. He gives you this small moment because it’s going to be a rough night and he wants to savour every last bit of it. By morning, he won’t hear a single peep out of you with how much your throat burns from screaming his name.

That’s three for him, zero for you, and Bucky’s not sure if it’ll end when morning comes.

He wants to ask if you’ll stay and he has a lot of furniture he needs to break in.

The kitchen counter looks like a wonderful place to start to do both.

[onelastbreath-writes]

I Spy

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Fem!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Brief mention of bad(abusive/manipulative) parents, general adult topics, swearing.

Summary: You meet a cute guy at a bar, you date, you fall in love, and oops, it turns out you’ve both been lying about your careers. Classified only stays classified until you get assigned a mission together. (SpecOps&Spies, with Young!Frankie)

A/N: Hey guys, I was bad and started another fic. Whoops. This one is for Triple Frontier because I love that soft boi Francisco. The flavour of this fic, the vibe if you will, is basically the spiderman pointing meme. I’ve vaguely set the timeline to like mid-2000s? so I’ll be trying my best to stay true to technology and aesthetic of the era. There was so much denim. Anyways, that means I’m trying to write for about a 27-33 year old Frankie and a similarly aged reader. I don’t see this series being more than a couple chapters at best, so it’ll be short and sweet. Also, like, very little angst if I can help it; I just want this one to be a good, cute, fun read. Hope y’all enjoy! Xoxo

[AO3][Masterlist]

“So, you’re coming out tonight, right? You’re not busy or anything?”

“Please don’t say it like that, you know how busy work actually is. And I’m a grown woman; if I didn’t want to go to a shady dive bar with you and your very loud friends from the office, I’d say so,” You loved your best friend, and you missed spending time together, but you really couldn’t say the same for her co-workers.

You had nothing against the women she worked with, and you found that they were all perfectly lovely and usually quite fun to be around… it was just that when the alcohol came out, the volume control and verbal filters disappeared.

You wouldn’t say that barhopping was what you’d prefer to be doing tonight, along with more or less babysitting your friend and her friends, but you didn’t know when you’d next be able to squeeze in a night off to just hang out and have fun, so this was happening. You would laugh and smile and keep the drunk secretaries from going home with questionable people, and then you would look back on your ladies’ night with fond memories until you could eventually attend another.

You had known when you picked your career that it would be an around-the-clock, all-day, every-day sort of thing. You never deluded yourself into thinking you would have much of a social life or long-term relationships. Most partners, hell even most friends, would have a problem with you jetting off for weekends, or disappearing for days at a time under mountains of paperwork and appointments.

It just made your best friend that much more important to you. You’d met as kids, went through years of school beside each other, hung out, did stupid teenager things and then stupid young adult things together. You’d cried and laughed and fought and made up a million times, you’d gone to different colleges and still kept in touch, moved away, moved back, and you were still going strong. She was your ride-or-die, your anchor and your parachute and everything in between, so if you could use some of your precious, hoarded, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it time off to see her, that’s just what you’d do.

“You should take some of that fire, and direct it at your boss. Tell him no for a change. I’d love to see his face at that!” She meant well, always trying to look out for you and your health when it came to your beyond demanding job. You weren’t even allowed to tell her a fraction of what you were doing in your professional life, and she knew it, but that didn’t stop her from being ready to throw fists at your employer at a moment’s notice.

“One does not simply tell the über-rich that they don’t need to fly to Paris, again. Being a PA is a full-time nannying gig, except your charge is an adult who can argue when you say no, and you cannot put them on timeout when they’re being a brat. Where he goes, I go, and unless something drastic happens, it will probably continue on like that for a while.” She laughed at your jokes, and your heart hurt a little less at her glee. You knew she would never give up on you or blame you for your work being unpredictable, but that didn’t make the sting of last-minute cancels and missed outings hurt any less, for either of you.

“But it must be nice, just getting on a plane and going somewhere amazing at the drop of a hat. Travelling the world like a superstar, meeting people, having amazing adventures with mysterious strangers…”

“Easy there, Mamma Mia, your wanderlust is showing. And I’d take you with me in a heartbeat if I could. You were born to be a jetsetter, not to be stuck in this town with nothing but the office cubicle beside you to stare at. And I still think you should apply for one of those immersive culture grants you keep mooning over. They’d be fools not to fund your writing expedition!” She was an incredible person, three full degrees to her name in the time it took a normal student to get one, and a brain that could run miles around the rest of the professionals in her field. But she was tethered to this quiet backwater town, and she wasn’t free to fly like she deserved.

“You know I can’t just… go, like you can. My mom, it’d just break her heart… I don’t want to leave her alone, not after Dad,” You honestly doubted that you’d ever meet a woman more horrible and undeserving of her own daughter’s kindness. Helen was a parasite full of lies and manipulations and greed, and she had attached herself like a bad rash to your friend after she’d chased away the rest of her family members.

Your friend searched for the good in everyone, but you wished she’d stop looking for it at that home.

“You deserve your own happiness and freedom, and she should be encouraging you to spread your wings if and when you’re ready.” Politicking your friend was never something you enjoyed. She was the last person you wanted to use your negotiating credentials and sly subterfuge tactics against, but you wanted, needed, her safety and health more. You considered it almost bribery; dangling her dream future in front of her in exchange of being rid of the garbage in her life.

“Hey now, we’re getting way too deep into sad-drunk night conversations, and this is strictly a happy-fun-drunk night. Please leave all baggage and woes at the door, thank you!” You admitted your defeat and surrendered your verbal power point on Why Helen Needs to Disappear. You would get her next time for sure, give her the accelerant to burn down that bridge. “Anyways, the reason I called was to remind you of our haunt for the night. One of the girls, Kelly, you remember Kelly, found this adorable little hole in the wall. A total boys’ club apparently: darts, pool, sports games on the TV, but Kelly’s sister’s friend’s brother Tyler said the place was a favourite of the local army guys. So, if nothing else, we’ll at least have some hunks to look at for a while. It’ll be great!”

You jotted down the directions to the bar as she listed them, and the time you were expected to arrive there.

“Oh! And wear that cute little blue number you bought last spring; I know you still have it so don’t you dare lie. It makes your ass and legs look divine, and I think you could stand to make a new acquaintance tonight.” That Little Blue Number was buried in the back of your closet where you had hoped it would remain forever, but luck was not on your side tonight it seemed. But it did make you look, and feel, fantastic.  It was just so… breezy. “And heels! Real ones, not your cute little personal assistant kitten heels. Those black strappy ones would work like a dream!” You just sighed dramatically into the receiver and agreed to her demands.

“I’ll let you go now, and yes, I suppose I can be presentable tonight, dress and all. See-ya later!”

---

Hole in the wall was right. This place was basically underground it was so on the D.L. It was warm inside though, and in the middle of autumn with so much skin on display, you could not be more pleased to get away from the chilled outside air.

You would describe the interior as comfortable with a hint of rustic; lots of warm dark wood and low lights, mixed with the soft Latin music crooning in the background and the few patrons’ conversations adding to the ambience.

All in all, it was probably the nicest dive bar you’d been to in your hometown.

Your party was easy to spot where they had claimed a group of pushed together tables towards the far side of the establishment, and you carefully made your way over to them in your tricky high heels.

You said your hellos to returning faces and introduced yourself to the new additions, and accepted the chair you were pointed to and the drink pressed into your hand.

And so, the hours rolled.

You had enjoyed two fruity cocktails and a flaming shot before you called it quits on the alcohol for the night. You still had a few hours to sober up enough to drive home safely, and you would be able to help the girls get to their rides and ways home too. You appreciated having a social drink or two, but you didn’t care for hangovers and would happily take slightly tipsy over party-hard drunk anytime. Plus, your contract stated you were on-call, always, and you could be required to navigate high-stress negotiations at the drop of a hat. It was just better to cut yourself off, then reap the consequences of your actions later.

You tapped your friend’s shoulder as you walked past and leaned over to talk into her ear. “I’m getting some water for the table; do you want anything else?”

“Mmmm, no I think we’re good for now, thanks!” She was plastered already, but she had a huge grin on her face and was laughing at her co-workers’ stories, so you considered it a win of a night. You gave her a pat goodbye and swayed your way to the bar.

But you just were not accounting for the uneven floorboards, or how much your heels affected your currently less than steady equilibrium, and before you could blink you were teetering over into a nasty fall.

“Whoa there, easy does it, muñequita” Arms wrapped around you and pulled you back into a warm chest. “Careful now, don’t go twisting an ankle in those fancy shoes.”

You certainly did not account for the man you turned around to face. Wow.

His hands glided respectfully from where he had caught you around the waist to your still bent and held out elbows, steadying you as you swayed dangerously again.

Warm brown eyes, soft brown curls, and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest, and you knew that it wasn’t left over adrenaline from your near wipeout. He was gorgeous and handling you so gently, and you wanted to spend forever in that moment.

“Hey there, palomita, I’m Frankie, can I buy you a drink?”

[Next Part]

[dingoat]

[I mulled over a few possible options for this one, heh, but after some chatter with @cinlat I realised I could mush some of my ancient Ahuska backstory with half baked future plans with vague species lore/headcanons and string it along into something roughly story-shaped. The whole thing wound up a lot more somber than I’d anticipated, but at least I can always count on Crow to soften the mood!] ---

For the better part of three weeks, she’d been dwelling. What had started out as the most unexpected news conceivable had led to a flurry of unanswerable questions; was the news welcome? Was she excited? Did she care? Did she want anything to do with it? But that had all rapidly died down into a sullen simmering of nerves, as Ahuska struggled with something she genuinely never thought she’d have to face.

She had a family. She’d been raised well, and loved, as far back as she could properly remember. Did she really want to go back further, did she need to know anything about where she’d come from? The thought of being connected to Bothawui in any way made her feel ill, but Crow had gently reminded her, over and over, that this changed nothing.

She was Mando’ad, where family is built on more than bloodline, and having surviving relatives from a life she couldn’t even recall changed nothing.

Having a twin brother changed nothing.

Except that it clearly meant something to… him. And the older one. Two brothers, with families of their own, who’d reached out to find the sister they’d thought they’d lost with their parents. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know them, but…

“Crow?” Ahuska tapped his arm with a single hesitant finger, but he’d already turned to seek her out. They were more in tune with one another than ever.

“Mmm?”

“I think I… I want you to meet my family,” she mumbled, eyes slipping to the side.

Crow grinned his softer grin. “Ahhh, I think we’ve already been through that part of the relationship. Was a couple years ago now, at least?”

She felt her ears grow warm, but her eyes turned back to him. “With me, I mean. I want you to come with me to… meet the family I haven’t met yet. I don’t know if I even want to call them that yet, I guess, I doubt they’ll want to either once they’ve met me…”

“Oh, psshh,” Crow made to wave away her worry with a flick of his hand. “You said the whole reason they found out you existed was from holos of the business down at the Ve’lora place, right? Not like they haven’t already got some sort of clue about the life you live, and they still reached out.”

“It already feels so weird, though. They’ve known about me… all their lives. They… knew me, a-and mourned me? They missed me, and I’ve just never known… it’s like they’re strangers, who call me a sister. It’s fethin’ weird.”

“I know, I know. And if they’ve got half a brain between them they’ll realise that too. All you gotta do is meet them, say hi to them and their… uh, heh. Hey. What are baby bothans called, anyway?”

“Huh? What, I… I don’t think he told me any of their names, I don’t even know how many kids he said they each had…”

“What? No, I meant like… y’know. Do you call them… uhhh, like how little cathar are kits, and…”

Every one of Ahuska’s nerves abruptly vanished, and the series of blinks followed by a hard stare made Crow immediately realise he’d made one of those mistakes.

“Sorry, sorry, I just figured…”

“Babies,” Ahuska said, her tone completely flat. “Baby bothans are babies. Not cubs, not fawns, not kits…” her snout wrinkled a little at that.

Crow’s manner was meek, but the way he squinted at her made it clear he was still trying to work out where exactly the problem lay. “Okay but… don’t… wouldn’t there be some word you use for them…?”

“What, like ik’aad?”

“Yeah, exactly!” Crow brightened as Ahuska offered the comparison, then immediately ducked his head as her expression grew harder still.

“Like ik’aad. The Mando’a word that literally translates to ‘baby’?”

Crow’s grin wavered, sensing a trap. “Ye-es…?”

“Not likaya? Not pe’ninr?” Ahuska continued to watch Crow carefully as she offered the Mando’a for kitten and puppy.

“Well. No. Of course-”

“Of course not!” Ahuska snapped over the top of him, with an emphatic gesture of both hands to drive her point. “Likaya literally means baby cat. Not baby person. Not baby human, or bothan, or even cathar, it’s the word you use for a little cute wobbly baby animal that meows before it opens its eyes. You wouldn’t call some random Mando kid likaya if we were talking in Mando’a, would you…?”

“I… guess not…” To the unfamiliar, it would look as though Crow were simply still grinning, but Ahuska knew the way it’s quality shifted that he was in fact frowning on the inside.

Ahuska took a slow breath, pinching the bridge of her snout. “And just the same, the bothese for ‘baby cat’ and ‘baby person’ are two totally different words. One translates to kitten, in basic, and the other to baby. Just baby. There’s nothing fancy, nothing cute about it, grown-ass men and women aren’t bucks and does or stallions or vixens, and I’d be willing to bet that there’s a good chunk of cathar out there who hate the way the better part of the galaxy pretends their own native words for their kids translate to ‘baby cat’---!!”

Despite her efforts to calm herself, Ahuska’s pitch and volume had rapidly increased, her gestures had grown more emphatic, and her attitude was positively simmering. Crow didn’t even need to tune into the beat of her heart to know he’d struck a hard nerve, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to handle it.

“Okay, okay,” he said quickly, lifting his hands in an effort to make it clear he was willing to concede. The crease of his forehead knit a little deeper. “I just would’ve thought, of all people, you might… find it kind of cute, at least? Like the way Nines…”

She shot him a look that made him shut up quick smart, then immediately made a visible effort to cool herself off.

“Let me… try and explain it another way,” she said, speaking slowly, her gaze focused inward. “One time when I was little, nine or ten years or something. I was on a trip with my buire, we had to spend the night in an Imperial settlement. We were checking in to some accommodation, just on the outskirts where it was quiet, and… you know buir’ika was a chadra-fan, right? Well, they had me and her go around to the back somewhere, and wait a while in another building. There was a nerf there, a couple of tauntauns, I think a big old varactyl even... one of the tauns had a fawn so that’s where all my attention was. I thought it was excellent, like, some special treat for me, buir’ika sure acted like it was. Anyway, it was a while later that nuvhu’buir… ah, that’s what I called Jinn, yeah? She came round to where we were with all our stuff, a few extra blankets and things, and we built ourselves a bed right there in the hay and spent the night there. I knew she was mad about something, but she never said why, at least not ever to me. I remember falling asleep hearing her and buir’ika talking really quietly together, and I was wondering why she was so upset. Didn’t make any sense to me at the time, since I thought it was… pretty much the best thing ever. I was too little to get it.”

Crow listened quietly, and when Ahuska paused, he didn’t say a word. He just watched her, offering his full attention, and waited for her to go on.

“They made us sleep in the damned stables. It was years later I looked back and realised that. They probably would’ve let nuvhu’buir stay up in a proper room, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with that. Stables, me and buir’ika, just because of our damn faces. So no. No, I don’t appreciate it when people joke about me going to a vet rather than a doctor, or offer me ‘treats’ for being a ‘good girl’. It’s not cute, it’s gross. And that goes hand in hand with asking if my species have litters, or if our babies are called foals, or if we go into heat. Ugh.” She made an ugly scowl at that. “Rule of thumb? If you wouldn’t ask a Mirialan the same question, it’s probably rude as hell to ask a Bothan. Or, y’know. Literally any other sapient species.”

Flushed, Ahuska found herself glancing off to the side, feeling oddly unburdened to have let it all out, and yet also heavy for having to unload to Crow. She knew he meant nothing by it, that of all the beings in the galaxy his intentions were utterly pure. She’d never forget the way he deflected those stuffy noblewomen on Alderaan that time.

She felt his hand envelope hers. “Did you want me to talk to Nines, and get her to let up a bit on the way she-?”

“Nayc,” Ahuska found the answer came easily, even if she couldn’t quite articulate why. “Not to me, anyway. I want to say it’s different, but it’s probably not, really. I dunno. Just maybe give her a poke if she starts on any other bothans with ‘Puppy’, yeah?” “It used to bother you a lot though, didn’t it?”

Ahuska stared out at nothing for a while.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Still sorry.”

His chin came to rest over her head, and she closed her eyes as she let her face rest against the comforting curve of his neck.

“I’m sorry too. Not your fault the galaxy is the way it is. I’m just… a little wound up right now, I think. I’m nervous about this.” “Shhh,” he soothed gently, and she let her face fall against the hand he brought to her cheek. “You don’t need to make an excuse for yourself. I asked you something stupid. Can’t promise I won’t again in the future, but I’ll always be ready to listen to you. Mmkay?” Ahuska found herself nodding against his palm. “‘kay.”

“And I’ll be right there with you, meeting those other relatives of yours. And if they turn out to be bastards? I’ll find a totally not-xenophobic way to give them a piece of my mind.”

She made a little snort, and let her arms wrap around him. “And that’s why I love you.”

[sunlightdances]

Two Hearts on Fire

Title: Two Hearts on Fire Author: Katie @sunlightdances​ Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Prompt: “If you need my shoulder, or my hand, or a hug-” Rating/genre/warnings: PG-13. Mentions of alcohol, canon-typical violence, and swearing. Summary: 3 times Dean was there for you when you needed it + 1 time you were able to repay the favor. Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or Dean Winchester. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites without my written permission! Reblogs are encouraged! Please, please, please reblog creators’ work if you like it. Likes are amazing and beautiful, but sharing your favorite work has such a big impact and really makes my day. Author’s Note: I reference the Reader’s military history only because I just rewatched Generation Kill and have First Recon on the brain. I’m aware that the Marines don’t allow women into that Battalion, but let’s just pretend they do.

Links to my full masterlist can be found on my blog!

One.

You’re in a bar, the kind your mother always told you to stay away from, but you’re a little drunk, a little reckless, and a lot sad.

You concentrate on the amber liquid swirling in the glass in front of you, the sounds of the jukebox in the corner as some old, sad country song plays, and the way the world is just a little fuzzy at the edges.

Someone sits down next to you.

Not too close, but close enough that you can smell the musky scent of his cologne, and something sharp and metallic underneath. He’s tall. Broad. He glances at you, double takes. You mentally roll your eyes, preparing yourself for the inevitable pick-up line, but it never comes.

He drinks slowly, like you are. He doesn’t say anything, just a few murmured words to the bartender when he wants another glass.

He doesn’t even look at you, really, until someone sits down on your other side. Too close. Wandering eyes. Your shoulders tense. You prepare yourself for the inevitable line - what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this, or some similar variation, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, a hand, low on your hip, a threatening voice in your ear.

“One wrong move and I’ll kill you and the girl my friend over there just met in front of this entire bar,” he says, and you struggle to keep your face neutral as you look across the bar, a girl who can’t be older than nineteen giggling as a man twice her age whispers to her, his eyes locked on you.

“What are you?” You ask conversationally, taking another sip of whiskey.

“Like you don’t know.”

“I’m not hunting you.” You tell him, and his grip on you falters. It’s the truth - you’re a hunter, but you’re not hunting. Not tonight, anyway. You would laugh if you weren’t in a potentially life threatening situation - it figures the one night you want to take a break and relax, you end up mixed up in someone else’s hunt.

“What the fuck are you talking about? We scented you outside--”

“She might not be hunting, but we are.” The man on the other side of you speaks up, and you glance at him sharply, wondering how much of this entire exchange he heard. He tilts his head in the direction of the door. Another man dressed similarly in plaid and jeans stands there, twirling a knife in his hands, eyes hard.

“What the hell is this,” the man at your back growls.

“You’ve been terrorizing this town long enough. Time for your friend and you to eat one.” The man says, gulping the last bit of his drink, before standing and facing the two of you.

Despite yourself, your pulse starts to race. This isn’t ideal - a threat at your back where you’re vulnerable, a girl who has no idea what she’s walked into across the bar, probably close to being dinner for the men you’ve figured out are werewolves.

“Seems like a lose-lose,” you say casually, making eye contact with the hunter in front of you, trying like hell to figure out his next move.

The air is tense, and almost as if you’ve practiced it before, a wink from the hunter is your cue to elbow your assailant in the ribs hard, stomping on his feet at the same time.

You duck, just in time for the hunter to sucker punch the wolf with a hard left hook, his grip loosening enough for you to get out of the way. The man across the bar growls loud enough for you to hear, and you only hesitate for a half second before you’re moving, him meeting you halfway.

The other patrons are scrambling, the bartender yelling, but you ignore it all, concentrating with all your might on subduing him enough to get yourself and this innocent girl out of the bar.

You dodge a few swipes, alarmed when you see his claws out, and you curse under your breath, your reflexes slowed by alcohol just a bit, enough to make you nervous. The fight closer to the bar continues, and just as you think you’re about to bite it, another hand grips your shoulder, shoving you aside in time for you to regain your footing.

The two werewolves fully engaged, you grab the young girl’s arm, her eyes wide and filled with tears. You drag her outside, ignoring the fight behind you as people spill out of the bar, the bartender yelling that he’s called the police.

“Listen to me. You need to get on a bus, and get the hell out of town. Don’t come back for a week or two, maybe longer.” You find your wallet, shoving a few bills in her hand. She just stares at you. “Do you understand? Go!”

She nods frantically, taking the money and turning before running down the street.

Sighing, you turn back towards the bar, cracking your knuckles. Before you can do anything else, the noise stops, and the door opens. The hunter who had been with you at the bar looks around quickly before his eyes land on you.

“You okay?” He asks, gruff.

“Fine.”

“They’re dead,” he says bluntly. “Knocked the bartender out long enough to get them outside. The police are on their way, though.”

You nod. “Need help with the bodies?”

He considers it, but shakes his head slowly. “We got this one.” He tilts his head, “You really weren’t after them?”

You grit your teeth. “It’s my night off.”

He stiffens. “We don’t get nights off.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, whatever. Thanks for your help, but I--” really, really don’t need this tonight, you think, but decide just to stop talking. “I have to go.”

When the other hunter comes out of the bar and stands there, tall and imposing, you realize who they are. And you definitely don’t need to get involved in whatever shit the Winchesters are dealing with these days.

“Good luck,” you say, waving a hand nonchalantly before heading out to your car, passing the infamous black Impala on your way. You’d laugh if you weren’t so depressed.

They’re still there watching you when you glance in your rearview as you drive away.

Two.

“Any day now, Claire,” you say through grit teeth as you shove all your body weight against the closed door at your back, trying like hell to keep this angry spirit out, though a voice in the back of your head tells you it could just give up and go right through the wall.

“Going as fast as I can!” The younger girl tells you, and finally, finally the lighter in her hand whooshes to life, the canvas in her other hand lighting quickly.

The lights flicker like mad as the spirit screams, and then it’s all quiet, and you slump against the door, nodding at Claire across from you. “Good job, kiddo.”

Footsteps on the stairs startle you, as does the doorknob rattling.

“Shit, not again,” Claire swears, and then the unmistakable voice of Dean Winchester is on the other side of the door.

“Claire, open up!”

“Oh, come on…” You groan, pulling away from the door so you can open it. Yanking the door open, you’re greeted with Dean’s surprised expression.

“Oh.”

“What are you doing here?!” Claire nearly wails, clearly upset. “I told Jody I had a partner for this one, I had it under control!”

Dean, to his credit, looks a little chagrined. “She just said--”

“That I need a babysitter?”

You look back and forth between them, really not wanting to get in between whatever pseudo-family drama is brewing here.

“I think that’s my cue,” you say quietly. “So I’m just gonna--”

“How come she doesn’t get yelled at?” Claire asks, and you’re suddenly reminded about how young she is.

Dean snorts. “Because she’s a grown ass woman, and Jody didn’t send us here to yell at her.” He looks over at you, a smirk barely repressed.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t really do family drama, so if you’ll excuse me--”

“Wait!” Claire calls, and when you turn around, she’s already there throwing her arms around your shoulders, hugging you close. You stiffen. You’re not used to this affection - the way the young hunter is still so full of life and enthusiasm… it’s the way you remember being a long, long time ago. “Thank you,” she whispers before letting you go.

Head down, you smile gently. “No problem, kiddo. Stay out of trouble.”

You shrug past Dean Winchester in the doorway, his impossibly imposing figure making it hard to get by without brushing against him a little, and you scowl when he grins at you. Antagonizing little shit, you think, but you’re smiling a little too.

He finds you later at the 24-hour diner down the street, like you suspected he would.

A cup of steaming coffee is set down in front of you, and then he’s there, like he’s been conjured out of thin air.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

You hum in agreement.

“You don’t say much, do you?” He asks, but it’s not tinged with annoyance or mocking like you’d expect.

“I don’t know you. What do you want, my life story?”

He shrugs. “Your name would be a start.” He winces at himself, “that sounded like a line. Not how I meant it.” He takes a sip of his own coffee. “Claire talks about you like you’re old friends.”

You meet his eyes. “She’s a good kid.”

He nods. “I know she is. Just gets in over her head sometimes.”

You’re both quiet for a second. You have purposefully isolated yourself from anyone else in the hunting community because you’ve had enough camaraderie to last a lifetime. It never left you with anything but a broken spirit. Why Dean Winchester thinks he’s going to change that, you have no idea, but you suppose you can’t fault him.

You’ve heard all about him - the most surprising thing (heard from Claire and from Jody) being the way he seems to adopt every single person he meets. Everyone becomes part of the family whether he wants them to or not.

You tell him your name.

He frowns. “Why do I know that name?”

You tense up again, and he looks at you dead in the eyes, really looks at you.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” you sigh. “I was in the Marines. First Recon. I was a medic, and it was a total shit show. When I came back, I wasn’t the same person. I couldn’t fathom working at an office or some other shitty job. I met a friend of a friend who had a connection to hunting. Really hush hush. I had the skills. They needed help. The end.”

He looks surprised, but he regains his composure quickly. “And the friends?”

Your hard stare meets his. “Gone.”

He doesn’t press you. Doesn’t ask you who they were or what happened, he just takes the information for what it is - a story a thousand hunters have about a hunt gone wrong and an accident. No one’s fault, except you had your share of not-your-fault incidents in Iraq that still led to your friends dying. You were tired of it.

“Well. If you ever need any help or get in a pinch, we’re happy to help.” He says.

You know you won’t take him up on it. By the cautious look in his eyes, you think he knows that too. Still, it’s the thought that counts.

After he leaves, a waitress slides a slice of pie in front of you.

Confused, you look up, “I didn’t order this.”

“Your friend did.” She says, winking.

Dean Winchester, you think, the exact sort of friend I don’t need.

Three.

You’re pretty sure this is it.

There’s a blade at your throat, and the only reason you aren’t already dead is because the fucking vampires can’t stop arguing with each other.

You wonder if you’ll see your guys again in heaven, if that’s where you end up. Judging by the amount of civilian death you saw in Iraq, you’re not so sure. You picture the men you couldn’t save, the blood that you swear still stains your hands, and think that it’ll be nice to see them again. If only so you can properly repent.

You wonder if your hunter friends will be there too.

You’re distracted from your admittedly morbid thoughts by a knock on the door. It’s loud.

The vampires stop.

“Who is knocking?”

The other one literally shrugs. You roll your eyes. Is this a buddy comedy or a hunt?

One vamp tiptoes close to the door, and before they can do anything, the door flies open, splinters raining down, and the vamp is nailed in the face with the door, falling to the floor unconscious.

“Sorry to barge in,” Dean says. “You’ve got something I want.”

You snort, and have to laugh when you can see Sam Winchester over Dean’s shoulder rolling his eyes.

“What is this, SVU?”

“A little gratitude would be nice.” Dean says, frowning.

The vamp still holding a blade to your throat makes a choked noise. “Excuse me?!”

Dean’s eyes flick to his. The green in his eyes goes from warm to icy in a second. “Sorry, am I keeping you from something?”

“One more step and the girl dies.”

Sam steps into the room and smiles sunnily at you. “I feel like we’ve done this before.”

“Seems familiar, yeah.” You reply.

“Enough!” The blade digs into your throat.

The bickering and bantering has given you more than enough time to saw through the bindings on your wrist, but you’re in no hurry to give away the game. You feel a trickle of blood run down your neck and see Dean’s eyes narrow in on the spot. You just hope he keeps his cool long enough for you to work your way out of this.

“Let her go.” Sam says coolly.

“I don’t think so. Just to get my head chopped off?”

“Seems like a you problem.” Dean says.

“Boys, it’s been fun. But I have to go.” You say, seconds before you rear back, headbutting the vamp behind you. He drops the knife, sending it clattering to the ground, and you’re out of your seat to throw a hard right hook before he can react.

Sam and Dean react quickly, brandishing machetes and taking care of business while you check the other rooms in the house to make sure you’re alone.

Meeting back in the kitchen, you’re already recovering your bag that was taken from you and digging through it for your aid kit.

“How’d you do that?” Sam asks quietly. His eyes stray down to your neck as you wince, pressing a pad of gauze to your wound. “Get out of the ropes, I mean.”

You take out a long bandage, winding it around your neck. Without prompting, Sam steps closer and takes the loose end, helping you tuck it in where you can’t see.

“Thanks,” you say, distracted. “I keep a knife taped to my forearm,” you say. “Took forever to get it loose, but they didn’t check before they tied me up.”

Sam nods. Dean walks in a second later, eyes narrowing at the point where you and Sam are touching. You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t trying to make sure you don’t bleed to death.

“Need stitches?” His voice is gruff.

You shake your head. “No. Should be fine. Just a graze.”

He nods.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“Jody called. Said you were supposed to meet up and you never showed. Tracked you down from there.”

Digging through your bag one more time, you find your phone. “Feels like this is beginning to be a habit. You might as well put your numbers in.”

Dean looks like he wants to make a smart remark, but he doesn’t. You’re grateful. “Are you good?” He asks, eyes on your neck again.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t get all emotional or anything.” He teases, and you roll your eyes yet again.

“Asshole.” You murmur, but there’s no heat behind it. “I have to go.”

They give you a ride back to the rest stop where the vamps ambushed you. You’re so tired you wonder if you shouldn’t take them up on the offer to keep you company, but then the faces of all the friends you’ve lost swim in front of you, and you remember why you can’t get close to them.

The Winchesters are too much trouble, even for you.

+1

You keep dreaming that your phone is ringing.

You wake up to someone pounding on your door, your heart racing, and you grip your gun tight as you make your way to the door.

“Open up!” A gruff voice demands, and your shoulders slump.

“Christ,” you mutter. Opening the door, you’re greeted with a pale and shaken Dean, Sam’s arm slung over his shoulder. “What the fuck happened?”

“Stabbed,” he says in a rush. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Get him inside and on the bed.” You say quickly, darting to the bathroom to dig out the med kit you keep fully stocked but luckily haven’t had to use since Iraq.

Back in your bedroom, Sam is groaning, and Dean is muttering platitudes.

“Sam? Sam, hey.” You say, hovering over him. “Look at me, Sam.” He meets your eyes. Luckily his pupils are both the same size, and you smile at him. “There you are. Hi, Sam. You’re going to be okay.”

Dean hovers, and you try to ignore the feeling of his eyes on you as you work.

“I’ve got to get the shirt off,” you tell Sam. “Don’t read anything into it.”

He smiles despite the pain he’s clearly in.

“Sam, can you breathe okay?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s writhing a little, and you force yourself to concentrate.

“Sam,” you repeat, more forcefully, trying to get his focus. “Can you breathe?”

“Yeah, I can breathe. Jesus Christ.”

“Good, that’s good. You’re going to be okay, Sam.”

The wound isn’t too deep. Missed anything important. You relay the information to Dean, who settles a little, perched on the side of the bed as you begin cleaning Sam up.

“Stop squirming,” you chide softly. “Dean, grab his hand or something. He needs to stop moving so I can stitch him.”

The process of cleaning him up and getting him stitched is almost robotic. You can’t count how many times you’ve had to do this in the Marines. You just pray that this time ends better than some of the others.

“Sam, can you squeeze my hand?” You ask, stopping what you’re doing and reaching for the hand that’s not currently being held by Dean. He squeezes tightly. “There you go,” You soothe. “Gonna have a scar, Sammy. I’ve been told women like that sort of thing.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, but he’s smiling when you look up. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Sorry,” you say, pulling the last stitch and tying it off as quickly as you can. “You have to stay put for a while, okay?”

“I was going to run a marathon.” He deadpans.

You chuckle and meet Dean’s eyes. He’s not smiling, not even a hint of his lips twitching, and you start to panic that he might be hurt too before he lets go of Sam’s hand and heads towards your kitchen.

Finishing up with Sam, you tell him to rest and that you’ll check on him in a few minutes. He squeezes your hand again, and then you head to check on his brother.

A glass clinking draws your attention to the kitchen table. Dean’s found your whiskey stash.

“Dean?”

He looks up. “Sorry for barging in here like this.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be.” Sitting across from him, you watch him carefully. “He’s going to be okay.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “I panicked. I’ve stitched him a million times, but he was bleeding so much-- I didn’t know what else to do.”

“That’s okay, Dean.” A beat, and then you add, ““If you need my shoulder, or my hand, or a hug-”

He lets out a watery laugh. “Shut up.”

You grin, plucking the glass from his hand and taking a sip.

“You don’t do hugs.” He adds.

You shrug. “I don’t know. I might, for you.”

His eyes are dark when they meet yours. “I’m really glad I met you,” he says softly.

It sounds crazy, but you think you can literally feel some of the darkness that’s hovered over you for years starting to clear. “I’m glad I met you too.” You reply, just as quiet, the two of you sharing the same glass of whiskey until it’s gone.

Maybe this is how you find your peace. Maybe you let these two guys in, let them be there for you in a way you’ve rarely let other people.

Maybe there’s something more here than just you watching your own back at every turn.

Later, when the two of you are squeezed onto your bed on either side of Sam, trying to catch a few hours of sleep while keeping an eye on him, you meet Dean’s eyes again. Wordlessly, his hand reaches for yours and gives it a squeeze.

You don’t let go, and neither does he.

You finally fall asleep, your heart already feeling lighter.

For the first time in almost a decade, you have no nightmares.

[sneezy-cheeseloaf]

recounting the entire avengers: endgame movie, which i only saw once when it came out, from memory

because i just took the SAT and i want to do anything except think about that so get ready for a fun ride full of holes and my reenactments of scenes and quotes that i remember from however many years it’s been now since endgame came out. buckle the fuckle up

movie opens, clint’s whole ass family fucking dies. cue killing spree fueled by grief and anger. HashTag Relatable

tony is floating through space with nebula and teaching her how to play paper football

holy shit is this how tony dies

“pep” ouc h

oh hey he’s home, dope

The Gang (tm) learns where thanos’s farm is somehow i can’t really remember

“perhaps i judged you too harshly”

“???? thor????” “what? i went for the head”

“five” five what?? days?? weeks??? months???? oh boy i can’t wait to find ou- “years later” HUH???????

steve looks the exact same, so i guess he kept up that workout schedule even through the snap. i mean good for him honestly

and is also running a talk therapy group like sam did

a single smidgen of gay representation but it’s a good start ig

i don’t really remember what everyone else was doing, i just know that tony and pep have morgan now but idk if that gets revealed now or later

the only reason we had a movie is because of a rat. everyone say thank you to Rat for releasing scott lang, please. round of applause

scott’s daughter is all grown up and catch me sobbing over the fact that he wasn’t there to see it

somewhere in here nat is crying and eating a sandwich and honestly girl same

“hey!!! it’s me!!!! scott lang!!! ant man???? also what the hell happened???? lemme IN”

cue scott lang having a single brain cell and bringing up time travel. i think it was him that proposed the idea. maybe not. but imma give him credit

oh yeah bruce and hulk are besties now and bruce is just permanently Like That

and cue everyone being shook at the idea of time travel

time to go see Science Man at his house on the lake

“i wish you had come for anything else.” ouch

gang leaves dejectedly

peter. that’s it. and suddenly tony is all hands on deck

cue science mumbo jumbo in the middle of the night while he eats something out of a bag that i can’t remember

“shit!!” “sHiT!!!” “NO”

“i love you 3000″

Science Man reveals that he has, indeed cracked the code to literal time travel

cue nat, the only person with an umbrella, going to find clint who is busy with murder, as he does

“don’t do that. don’t give me home” stfu budapest man and get in the car.

thor has. enlargened. and is now playing fortnight with korg as a means to cope with what happened plus losing loki, as i think we all would

The Gang is back together and working (surprisingly) coordinately and throwing ideas around and it’s actually very cute. and it makes my heart very happy. and i want to cry every time i think about it because we all know what comes next

scott’s taco gets blown away. bruce gives him another. all is well in the world

and in this exhibit we see the only brain cell in the whole group, which is being used by rhodey at all times

“why don’t we just,,,, (choking motion)” “to a BABY???”

during the time tests someone gets reverted to a baby but i don’t remember who and it’s highkey disturbing

“i consider this an absolute win!!”

cue slo mo walk with the cool white time suits that everyone looks so good in

“see you in a minute” that smile. she looks so happy. sobbing

i think it’s in here that all the color go through steve’s eyes, so let’s just take a minute to acknowledge how pretty he is

“just for the record, that suit did nothing for your ass.” “i don’t remember asking you to look”

“that’s america’s ass.” yes it is scott you’re absolutely right

“i cOuLd dO tHiS aLL dAy” “yeah i knoOoOW”

time for tony to give tony a heart attack and then just stare in what i can only assume is amusement. i’m pretty sure that comes after america’s ass but maybe not

somewhere in here steve is just staring at peggy through blinds and it’s sad when you see it but when you think about it afterwards, it’s so funny for no reason

time to get whacked by a very angry hulk who was not allowed to use the elevator

“NO STAIRS”

tony goes flying. so does the tesseract. loki, in handcuffs, is like “oh bet this is mine now” and. Leaves.

i’m pretty sure it’s bruce who goes and gets schooled by The Ancient One on the multiverse, and i say it’s bruce because i think he’s the only one out of The Gang who could ever actually wrap his head around it

i don’t remember exactly how they get the tesseract but they do

thor and rocket are in asgard and thor has a panic attack, as I think we all would if we had to talk to our dead mother and pretend like we don't know what's going to happen

and remember kids, slapping someone is not the way to handle a panic attack. anyways

a mother always knows

"i'm still worthy!!!!" you always were, thor. you never stopped being worthy

and we have our hammer back

cue sobbing on vormir

“clint. it’s ok. it’s ok.” that smile.

nat’s fucking dead and i’m fucking dead inside let’s keep this party goin

other stones are recovered and i don’t really remember how but hey we got all six

“where’s nat?” cue more sobbing from me and from clint as you can see each and every team member’s heart drop to the fucking floor. especially steve

yeah maybe we’re doing this for half the universe and all the people we lost, but mostly for nat now

tony’s makeshift infinity gauntlet has entered the chat

Green Man is the only one who can physically take the power of the stones, so the fate of literally everything they have ever done up to this point is on him

snap rest in peace bruce’s arm

cue every single person in the theater holding their breath

“guys. it worked.”

cue explosion as their facility gets bombed and i am terrified that it has killed the entire gang

but it obviously has not and i am once again a Class A Idiot

i can't remember if it’s steve or tony who wakes up first but one shakes the other awake and is like “get the fuck up bitch idk what just happened but we got a problem”

everyone is mostly fine. but they’re all alive and that’s what matters

and now we have the setting for the entire rest of the movie basically

oh hey thanos. that’s uh. that’s a big army you got there

i don’t really remember everything that happened with The Past thanos, gamora, and nebula but i remember that gamora once again sees what a twat her adoptive father is and is like “oh hell na”

cue the gang fighting for their lives against Past thanos. literally

oh shit thor’s about to be killed????

OH MY GOD HE HAS THE HAMMER

cue the theater screaming as they should

hell yeah. bonk that giant space grape with the god of thunder’s hammer. you go steve. and look like a badass doing it as you should

shit’s still fucked and they eventually get their asses handed to them one by one

somewhere in here the shield breaks just like we saw in age of ultron. and like damn bro i liked that thing

steve stands up by himself because bitch. you cant kill him unless he says so. he dies on his own terms. he didn’t live for over a fucking century to die like this

our mans is standing up against a whole ass army knowing full well that he can’t win but damn if he aint ready to try

“ok listen strange. you have to open the portal to his left. his LEFT. you hear me???”

“steve. STEVE. on your left.”

cue the most goosebump-inducing scene that i have ever seen and probably will ever see. i would do anything to see that scene for the first time again. that feeling was like nothing i’ve ever experienced

the amazing symphonics are NOT helping my already-about-to-explode-from-excitement heart

now the gang’s ALL here. and we all cry because all of our peeps are back from the dead and we all missed them and highkey grieved for them after infinity war

i can’t remember if steve actually sees bucky yet but i think he does and i wanted to cry on the spot because not only did i miss bucky but man did i just want them to see each other again

cue sick pan of the whole ass marvel roster like smash ultimate, including howard duck somewhere in there

PETER OUR BOY SWINGIN ON IN

“AVENGERS. assemble.” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

but we all know damn well that not a single person could hear him whisper that shit. like steve bro speak up a little

and the battle for the ages commences

we get to see all our favorite boys are girls fuck shit up and it’s absolutely incredible. wow it really feels like someone’s missing who could that be.

this is now a very elaborate game of keepaway

“catch” “Catch” “CATCH “CATCH”

“hey queens” he remembered. catch me cryin

“hey peter. got somethin for me?” god i love her. flew through a whole ass spaceship. no stoppin her

t'challa remembers clint's name. he did care

oh yeah scott is fucking humongous again, but third time’s the charm ig. maybe he won't pass the fuck out this time

somewhere in here, strange starts holding like. an entire ocean back and i dont really remember where it came from

we get a whole segment of marvel women kicking ass and taking names and i think i just need to take a minute. WE collectively need to take a minute

carol flies straight through a spaceship and everyone is like ???? hello????? where have you been?????????

carol gets literally headbutted by thanos and doesnt move a fucking inch. and that look of murder in her eyes. she could tell me to walk into a pit of lava and i would not question it. the power

“launch the missiles!!!” “but sir, our army-” “DO IT”

damn thanos our expectations for you were low but holy fuck

somewhere in here i think petter quill sees Past gamora and is like gamora???? and she like kicks him in the balls or somethin and is like “this is the ones i picked?????”

the fight continues and honestly a lot of it’s a blur but damn was it not the coolest thing i’ve ever seen. 

cue strange knowing exactly how this was gonna go down, and holding up a single finger

i dont think ive ever seen that look on tony's face before

oh shit thanos has the gauntlet and all the stones. fuck.

wait holdup that gauntlet looks a little funky

WAIT HOLDUP

“i am inevitable”

“and i. am iron man.”

the theater, once again holds its breath

all is lowkey calm and everyone is shook

thanos’s entire army slowly fades away. including one of those big worm things that almost eats (i think it was) rocket but like. dusts right as it hits the ground and is a really cool shot

and thanos sits down on a rock. and finally is gone. and it's so cathartic

oh joyous day!! they’ve won!! they’ve done it!!! wait holdup where’s tony. i remember what happened to bruce where the fuck is tony

wait

wait hold on

wait hold on a minute

“we did it. we won, mr stark. we won. please, mr stark”

“pep.”

“it’s ok. you can rest. you can rest.”

i have officially passed away and am a sobbing mess. you can’t do this to me. he’s gonna come back. there’s no way. tony stark doesn’t die. no.

this is a fucking funeral. i am going to combust into tears

“proof that tony stark has a heart”

i just wanted him to be able to see morgan grow up.

but him and nat are eating shawarma together in the sky now.

“i’m recording this in case something goes wrong, which it won’t.”

“i love you 3000.”

oh we’re still rolling. oh we don’t even get a minute to process

steve is leaving??? wait holdup we cant lose both. no

“are you sure about this?” “i have to”

“i’m with you til the end of the line” so that was a fucking lie

but steve deserves to do what makes him happy. so i can’t be too mad. actually, nah i aint even mad i’m just sad

bucky looks so dejected. so sad. someone please give him a hug. he desperately needs it

oh hey steve. but you’re old now. hey then, grandpa. how did you. get there

buck and sam go talk to him as they should

“you wanna talk about her?” “no, i don’t think i will”

“how does it feel?” “like it belongs to someone else”

sam has officially inhered the shield, and by extension, his very own bucky barnes. it’s a packaged deal

clint’s got his family back. and they can finally finish their picnic or whatever they were doing at the beginning of the movies

and steve finally got that dance. finally. and he looks so happy. so content.

and that’s about all i remember

i have not watched endgame since i saw it in theaters when it came out because i absolutely do not have the emotional stability to do it again. but damn the disney plus shows have been bangin

i hope you enjoyed the ride, thank you for joining me in my. whatever the fuck this is

[acowat]

“It’s a Point of Pride”

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. They’re owned by Sarah J. Maas. 

Kinda NSFW

Though Azriel had been courting, to use the human term, Elain for months, they hadn’t been more physical than a few kisses here or there. He wanted more than that, his Illyrian instincts pushing him to take more, but he knew she wasn’t ready. He’d never push her into anything she wasn’t prepared for fully, and though she’d been Fae for nearly five years, she still clung to her human manners.

He didn’t begrudge her that, could never begrudge her anything that brought her comfort. Watching her transition into a Fae had been challenging for everyone; of course, no one more than her. But it wasn’t easy for those who love her to watch her struggle to adjust to a new body, a new life in a place with foreign customs.

So it was a bit of a surprise when, one night, she set down her glass of wine, having grown comfortable enough to indulge in a glass or two, and asked him, “what is it like, making love?”

Azriel choked on his wine, already aware her inquiry hadn’t been overheard by the other patrons of Velaris’s most exclusive restaurant. He’d paid the maitre d’ handsomely for a table tucked into a secluded corner, shadowed from view.

“What--Why--Where is this coming from?”

“Living with Feyre and Rhysand,” she had enough leftover human modesty to blush as she spoke. “I’ve heard some things. Feyre and Mor like to talk. And it isn’t exactly quiet at the townhouse.”

Azriel tried to think quickly, something he’d almost never had an issue with before, but his brain had just stopped working. He knew, he hoped, he and Elain would eventually talk about sex, maybe engage in a little hands-on learning, but he wasn’t prepared for her to just spring this on him during dinner.

“First of all, we’re moving you out of that townhouse. Tomorrow.”

Elain laughed but nodded, clearly ready to be away from Rhys and Feyre. Nasty little shi--

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Az. I’ve just been thinking about it lately and--”

“Thinking about it?” Azriel’s brain had finally caught up and then some. Thinking about it? With him...?

Elain blushed deeper but looked up at him from beneath her lashes. She knocked his breath right out of him. To think that this unbelievably beautiful, kind, thoughtful woman had been thinking about sex lately...

Azriel was suddenly very glad he was sitting, across the table from Elain, as he subtly adjusted himself.

“I’m not uncomfortable, El. A little surprised, to be sure, but primarily I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable by telling you too much.”

Elain paused a moment, looking thoughtful.

“Maybe I could ask you some specific questions I’ve been contemplating? Obviously I’ve been hearing things from Mor and Feyre, even Nesta, and I heard some rumors as a human, but I don’t actually know how many of them are true.”

It was only his five centuries of stealth training that kept his surprise, and eagerness, from his face. Azriel wasn’t a deviant by any means, having gone long stretches of time without sex, both out of necessity and choice. Rhys and Cass had always been more of the sex-crazed ones, especially now that they were both mated.

So though he was eager, he wasn’t expecting to even talk about sex with Elain for a while. He was prepared to wait until he proposed, or until they were married, unsure how tightly Elain still clung to that human modesty. And he could’ve waited forever, knowing how thoroughly he loved her, how confident he was that he would ask her to marry him. He wasn’t as confident she’d say yes, still unsure Lucien wouldn’t come back from his extended stay with Vassa and Elain wouldn’t decide she’d rather be with him, her mate.

“Az?”

“Yes, love, sorry. I’ll try my best to answer any of your questions.” Her returning smile told him she perhaps suspected where his thoughts were leaning, though he doubted she knew his thoughts were on marrying her, not--

“How much does it hurt? I know from my sisters that it doesn’t generally hurt, but how long does it take...to not...hurt?”

“It doesn’t have to hurt at all.” The relief on her face nearly broke Azriel’s heart. The thought that she was dreading sex for fear of the pain...He started to wish she had asked him a long time ago.

“The first time can be a little uncomfortable, but if you have a partner who respects you enough to take their time, it shouldn’t hurt. Though Feyre or Nesta would probably be better equipped to tell you how long it takes to, uh, adjust.”

Azriel couldn’t stop his own blush, then. His mastery of his own emotions didn’t seem to extend to Elain, who always seemed to catch him off guard, a feat in itself. When he calmed himself down enough to look at her again, his anticipation of her next question grew sharply, as he considered her face, eyes resting on her hands.

“I...I heard, from some girls in the village, that...making love doesn’t feel...good. But Feyre seems to enjoy it, so I don’t really understand why she would want to keep...doing that if it isn’t pleasant?”

“It’s generally less, uh, enjoyable for women than for Fae females.”

“Why? Are men worse than Fae males?”

Azriel couldn’t stop the smirk on his face.

“It’s not so much a matter of skill as a matter of concern. Mortal men are less concerned about the, uh, satisfaction of their partner than Fae males are.”

Elain seemed to contemplate this answer for a while, keeping quiet as her eyes roamed the restaurant. Azriel’s heart skipped a beat when Elain lifted her eyes to his and said, “What about Illyrians?”

He could feel the crooked smile grace his face, one of Elain’s favorites as she’d told him.

“For all their backward customs, Illyrians are much like Fae males in that regard. Satisfying our partners, it’s a point of pride.”

Elain looked down again and lightly bit her lip. He wasn’t sure if it was in contemplation or in anticipation, but he had to physically restrain himself from leaping across the table and biting her lip for himself. They locked eyes across the table, and he was mesmerized.

Azriel had no idea how long they gazed into each other's eyes, his hand in hers, thumb grazing her knuckles. It felt like hours later when Elain squeezed his hand and leaned forward.

“Are you ready to go?”

Azriel nodded and led Elain out of the restaurant and into the chilled Velaris evening. As they walked along the well-lit street, Azriel noticed again the gown Elain was wearing: light purple with loose straps draped below her shoulders, half of her back exposed. It was gorgeous on her, but she had to be cold now that the sun had fallen.

Azriel took off his jacket and draped it across her shoulders. She smiled up at him, her eyes soft, and he could’ve fallen in love all over again. They walked in comfortable silence for a while, until they reached the turn that led to Feyre and Rhys’s townhouse.

“Out of questions?” Azriel asked, turning toward the townhouse. Instead of following him, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop.

“No, but I was hoping we might go somewhere a little more private,” she said with a smile, a smile Azriel had never seen before. It was almost a smirk, an enticing, sexy ass smirk.

He froze, mind reeling. Was she suggesting--?

“El--”

“It doesn’t have to be a huge deal, Azriel. I want this.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t have to be a big deal but it is a big deal. I don’t expect anything of you, El.”

“You didn’t grow up with the same culture I did. You grew up in a place where women are expected to please men and I--”

“That doesn’t matter to me!” He regretted raising his voice when Elain’s eyes widened, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Forcing himself to calm down, he whispered, “Elain, I love you. I’m happy with you, happier than I have ever been in my 500 years. I don’t need to have sex with you to be happy. That doesn’t mean I don’t want you because, believe me, I do. But I don’t need that. I want you to be comfortable, with me, with yourself, with that decision before we ever even consider it.”

Her brown eyes, glistening in the starlight, stared up at him for a moment before she put her small hand on his neck and drew his lips to hers softly. He grasped her waist, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. She pulled away, just a centimeter, and whispered against his lips.

“Okay.”

Azriel pulled back further, enough to see her expression. Her face held some leftover frustration but a smile nonetheless.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll think about it more. I want that with you, Az, but I don’t know if I’m quite ready yet.”

Azriel pulled his love closer, placing his lips softly against her forehead for a moment before replying.

“Elain, I’ve waited over 500 years for you. I can wait awhile longer.”