#i know it was covered just last week but i have

[ameliathornromance]

The Other Woman - Part 2

A/N: I'm blown away by the support you guys have given me with this part. I want to thank everyone who commented on the first post and gave me feedback! I'm always happy to recieve constructive critisim to make my work better for you all. This part 2 is a little different from how I usually handle part twos, so I hope you guys enjoy!

Link to PT 1

Your eyes itched as you dragged them open the next morning. The tears you shed last night had completely exhausted you by the time you got back to your room in the Palace, you had just flopped into bed without changing, skirts covered in melted icing.

A part of you was glad for it, as you had something to distract yourself from the soreness of heart break in your chest. You had no idea what you were going to do when you headed to court. The King’s personal guard would be there, and as far as you were aware, he hadn’t seen you the previous night.

Which means to him, nothing had gone wrong between the two of you.

You weren’t sure what to do knowing that. You could: A) Pretend nothing is wrong, carry on with this affair like you’d never seen what you had, or B) End things with the Orc and live with the guilt of what you did for the rest of your life.

Option A was just too difficult for you to do. You couldn’t bare the thought of doing something so heartless to that lovely Orc lady who worked in the kitchens. She was too kind to you, and always willing to lend a shoulder when you needed it… She would be a great mother.

So, it looks like option B is the only way to go.

As you finished remaking your bed, a shaky sigh escaped you as you leaned against your mattress, trying to steady yourself to face the day.

Leaving your quarters, you walked through the halls with your head in the clouds, thinking about how exactly you were supposed to end this affair. Would the King’s guard be angry? Upset?

After stewing on it, a wave of indignity washed over you. Really, none of this is your fault, it’s not like you were aware of his marriage. So, why should you be the one to break it off?

Of course, the last thing you wanted was to stay with the Orc, but if anything, he should be the one ending things with you! He was the one who chose to lie to you and hurt you in that way.

But how would you send that message to him? It’s not like you could just tell him what you saw. He might try to convince you to stay with him and you would not be persuaded into doing such a thing.

… Maybe, if you ignored him, he’d get the message and just leave you alone? Then that way, he’d know that you were angry with him and then, he would have no choice but to apologise to you. He’s not a stupid Orc, he should realise sooner or later what you were upset with him about.

But then, how do you regain your dignity as a Lady?

You chewed your lip as you greeted the Queen, apologised for your lateness and then followed her, alongside the other ladies in waiting to the throne room.

Thinking about this anymore would have to wait. You had a job to do as the Queens lady in waiting.

Their excited whispers brought you back down to Earth.

“Do you think that he’s handsome?”

“I don’t know, have you ever seen a forest dweller before?”

“Well no, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not good looking!”

“(Y/N) what do you think?”

“Hm?” You looked over your shoulder at the others. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve really been all over the place this week haven’t you?” One of the ladies said, “you know we’ve been preparing for the Forest Fae? Well, the Lord of the Forest Fae, is apparently, devilishly handsome. And, he’s not married or in any other kind of commitment with a woman or man!”

Another one of the ladies giggled, “do you think he’s come here looking for someone to marry?”

“Unlikely.” The third lady said, dismissively. “Men of any species love to flounder, even when they’re married. Why make their promiscuity more complicated than it has to be? You agree with me, don’t you (Y/N)?”

You didn’t answer. Due to recent experience, you had no interest in trying to romance a Fae Lord, there was no point in trying to if he was so easily led astray. “All men seemed to be like that.” You said, callously. “Even if he is loyal to those he sleeps with, I’m not looking to marry a Fae Lord.”

“Oh come on (Y/N), don’t pretend you’re not even slightly interested!”

“Ladies,” The Queen shushed and all the other women fell silent. “Gossip is unbecoming of all of you. If any of you wish to become involved with the Lord, I’ve heard he’s not one for those who spread rumours.”

Upon reaching the throne room, all the chattering of the ladies had fallen silent.

The doors to the impressive room opened, the Queen, you and the other ladies in waiting taking their respective places next to their mistress as they waited for the Fae Lord to make his entrance.

Sunlight caught the Queen’s glittering necklace, making you look around in surprise. And infuriatingly, you caught the King’s Guard’s eye. He smiled at you, eyes kind and wide like he was expecting you to return it.

Instead, you whipped your head away from him and locked on the throne room door. Other courtiers bustled around the room, discussing whatever was on the nobles minds at that moment in time.

For now, you would just have to stick to your plan of ignoring him. What else could you do until you could think of something more suitable for vengeance?

Soon, the doors to the throne room opened and the whole room fell silent.

The first few Fae glided in like they were sliding on ice, their ethereal beauty suffocating and snuffing out any other attractive person in the room. There were eight of them, four entering from opposite sides of the doors, who twirled in what looked to be spider web like dresses, their skirts sparkling in the light as they came to a stop, their long blonde hair falling down their backs with an eery gracefulness.

One of the ladies next to you mumbled something about how the Fae were so lucky, but you were so focused on not looking around at the Orc standing beside the King, that you couldn’t hear what the rest of her sentence was about.

After the graceful – and attention stealing – dance, a Fae man, taller than the others you’d seen so far, graced the courts prescence.

His hair was so white you might have thought that he was an old man, if not for his smooth skin untouched by aging. His eyes were deep pools of black that threatened to suck you in and never let you go, while his smile was kind and serene.

The Fae Lord came to a stop a few feet away from the thrones, and bowed his head. “Your Majestys, it is so wonderful to see you all again. I’m so pleased that I could finally make this trip like my father before me.”

“And we are pleased to have you, my Lord.” The King returned. “As it’s your first time staying here at the Palace, we’ve prepared a little celebration in honour of your new position…”

As the King droned on about how he hopes that this will be the new beginning of a fruitful alliance between humans and Fae, yada-ya, a chill went down your spine.

While the King’s announcement had been going in one ear and out the other, you brought yourself back into the room and carefully searched for the source of your discomfort… only to find the Fae Lord, looking directly at you.

You stood a little taller, returning his gaze in an attempt to be polite. When you gave him a polite inclination of the head, his smile widened as the King finished his speech.

“And so, we will have this little ball to welcome you and hope that your stay will be as comfortable as possible.”

“Yes,” the Fae Lord said, airily. “I’m sure it will be.” He turned to look back at the King and inclined his head once again. “I appreciate that the ball isn’t until tonight, and since this is your court, I’d like to ask if I can be a little forward, your Majesty?”

The King frowned, but nodded his head.

“You see, I couldn’t help but notice that lovely lady standing over there,” the Fae Lord pointed at you, “and was wondering if it would be too much for me to ask her for her first dance tonight?”

Your eyes widened.

The other ladies beside you, nudged you in the ribs. “So it was you he was looking at! I was wondering why his eyes were wandering, I thought he was just bored!”

Face burning, your eyes darted to the Queen and in the process, caught sight of the Orcs face.

His nose was scrunched up as he snarled, “awfully cocky, aren’t you?”

The Fae Lord ignored the Orc as he looked at you once again, hands behind his back.

When you looked at the Queen, she smiled at you and jerked her head to the Fae. “Well? You don’t have to ask me for permission, Lady (Y/N).”

All eyes on you, you bit your lip and sucked in a deep breath. Most of all, you could feel the Orc’s eyes baring into the side of your skull, like he was trying to make you face him, daring you to accept the Lord’s offer.

But the image you saw the previous night, flashed through your mind.

Spite leading you, you answered the Fae Lord. “I’ll have my first dance with you, my Lord.” You said, firmly.

The Fae bowed his head to you, “I look forward to it, my Lady.” And with that, he said his goodbyes to the King and Queen before the entire court was dismissed.

The rest of the day went by with a bubbly air, all the ladies sneaking glances and smiles at you as you went about your day.

You, yourself, could hardly believe that you had accepted the dance. It was true, you weren’t interested in romancing this Fae Lord in the slightest… but if it meant that you could piss off the King’s Guard, then you would gladly accept anything else that the Fae Lord had to offer.

After all, it’s not like the Orc could jump in and say that you couldn’t do something, people would get suspicious then.

As soon as the Queen had sent the ladies in waiting to go and prepare for the ball later in the afternoon, they all pounced on you.

“I can’t believe it!” One of them said as they took you by the wrist. “He really asked you, in front of the whole court!”

“It’s just a dance,” you told them all as you made your way back to your apartments. And that was all it would probably be, you told yourself. “It was just formality that I accept him. It would have been an awful start to his stay if I had told him no.”

“But even so, to ask you in front of the entire court!” Another one of the ladies squawked. “He must really like you.”

“We haven’t even formally met.” You said.

“Oh can’t you just be romantic for one minute?!” The first Lady huffed. “I’m imagining a star-crossed lovers romance, where he dramatically proposes to you just before he’s about to leave, flying through the corridors, abandoning his carriage in search of you-”

“Alright.” You said, firmly. “I get it. Well you can have your fantasies all you like.” Once you reached your apartments, you yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind you, locking the other ladies outside.

Sliding to the floor, you pulled your knees to your chest and squeezed. When you’d first started seeing the Orc, all you did was fantasize like that. Dream of running away with him and sharing all sorts of romantic ventures together.

But any kind of desire for that experience had left the moment you saw his wife.

You didn’t want to colour all men with the same brush, but a betrayal like the Orcs, isn’t something that you can just shake off.

And although it gave you the slightest bit of pleasure to know that the Orc was angry with the Fae, you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to get caught up in the romance of it all. He may be the exact same as the King’s Guard for all you knew.

And… you didn’t want to end up hurt again.

Once evening finally did come around and you joined with the other ladies in waiting – who were all too eager to have you be the leader of the group – the ballroom was full of chatter, people drinking and watching couples dance in the centre of the room.

“Oh, he’s not here yet?” Frowned a lady beside you, “don’t worry, he’ll turn up soon I’m sure, most of the other Fae are here. You should sit by the entrance that way, he’ll see you as soon as he enters.”

The suggestion made you want to roll your eyes. While you were going to dance with this Fae, you didn’t want to be seen as desperate for company. Taking a glass of wine from a passing waiter, you decided to hover to the side of the room.

As you sipped on the delicate glass, your eyes scanned the room where you spied the Queen dancing with the King, the other ladies mingling and chatting animatedly with other guests.

You caught yourself glancing at the entrance to the doors a lot. Keeping an eye out for the Fae Lord. You had to keep internally slapping yourself. This was just a means of getting back at the King’s guard.

And perhaps it was because the King’s guard was standing opposite the room, within perfect line of sight of keeping an eye on you that you were eager for the Fae Lord to arrive.

The Orc’s eyes glazed over the room, mostly following the King, but occasionally, he found you.

Anger boiled in your veins as you kept your eyes firmly fixed on the doors to the ballroom.

Even now, the Orc was good at keeping his affection for you a secret.

A part of you wanted to throw the wine glass in your hand at him, just to keep him on edge.

But, before you could put your thoughts into practice, gasps echoed around the room, drawing your attention to the ballroom doors.

The crowd parted as the Fae Lord’s eyes searched the room and found you. His eyes lit up at the sight of you and he passed through the crowd of people, and held a hand out to you. “There you are,” he said, smiling. “What are you doing hiding in the shadows over here? A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be hidden away like this.”

You shook your head as he took a wine glass from a waiter and sipped from it, “do you mind if I have a drink before we dance?”

“No, not at all my Lord.” You replied.

Over his shoulder, you chanced a glance at the Orc, whose eyes were now locked onto you and the Lord.

The Fae spoke, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask for your name first before asking for your dance, my Lady…?”

“(Y/N).” You answered smiling. “Thank you, for asking me for this dance.” You held your hand out to him, which he took and pressed a kiss onto your knuckles. A pleasant chill ran up your arm.

The Fae Lord bowed his head as he took another sip from his glass. “It’s an honour that you accepted. I should be thanking you for not humiliating me in front of all those courtiers.”

You chuckled at that. “I wouldn’t have done that to you, that would’ve been cruel, even if you were being very forward.”

“I just don’t have a care for all of these silly procedures,” the Fae said, waving his free hand around the ballroom. “There’s no point in any of it, I’d have preferred that the King and I just talk about what I’m here for and then to just leave, you know. But, a simple ball isn’t so bad.”

“So, you’d say you’re a simple man?” You asked.

“Completely.” The Fae finished his drink and you rushed to do the same too.

“My Lady, please, don’t do that on my account, we have the whole evening to dance, you can take your time.” He pulled the glass by the stem away from your lips.

You frowned, holding your free hand up to cover your mouth. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting, it would be rude of me to do that.”

With a sly wink, the Fae Lord said in a low whisper, “if I didn’t want to be kept waiting by you, I wouldn’t have asked for your first dance.”

You gave him a suspicious look, to which the Lord replied, “I want to get to know you, (Y/N).”

“Why?” You asked, shortly. “We’ve never even met before.”

The Fae Lord didn’t flinch at your tone. Instead, he searched your eyes. “Because, it seemed as though you were in need of some cheering up.” He said, simply. “And I don’t like seeing people upset.”

With a gentle smile, he patted your shoulder. “Don’t feel like you have to tell me what’s going on right now, after all, we did just meet each other. But whenever you’re ready, I’m here if you want to talk.”

You stared at him. Was he being serious? As you looked into his eyes you could sense no malice, no playfulness or manipulation in his face… Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to give this Fae a chance?

Once you’d finished your drink the pair of you took to the dance floor.

And for the next few days, he always made a point of talking to you. At first, it was mundane things, how did you sleep? Did you eat breakfast yet? Before it became more involved questions, like what your family did for business, asked about your other ladies in waiting and if they were doing well.

And gradually, you started to look forward to your little chats and began to ask about him and his life. It turned out he was an only child and took the Lordship after his father had died of some kind of tree associated illness.

He was funny, had a quick wit and was fond of lymerics. He liked the smell of morning dew on grass and the way the forest smelt after a rain storm. Oh, and he enjoyed rum cake.

Your stomach bubbled with excitement every morning now at the prospect of seeing him around the Palace and speaking to him in the evening, the Orc barely even crossed your mind anymore.

Except for when you were on your way to your apartments one time, and the Orc ambushed you from a dark corner of the halls.

“What is with you?” He snarled at you. “You’re completely ignoring me in favour of that pretty Fae man.”

You didn’t spare the Orc a glance and kept walking. “He’s nice to me.” You shrugged, “I can’t talk to other men?”

“It’s not just talking to other men!” The Orc hissed. “You’ve been ignoring me and the gifts I leave you, along with letters as well! Whenever I enter your rooms to give you something else, the other gift is always left unopened!”

He grabbed you by the wrist, forcing you to stop in your tracks. He tightened his grip, “did I do something wrong?” He asked you. “Tell me if I have, I will do what I have to do make up for it.”

Anger flared like a fire stoked with gunpowder. You wanted to yell at him, to shout at him that he should go back to his wife, confess that he was an adulterer and that he should be begging for her forgiveness.

But for some reason, you couldn’t let that anger escape. It refused to climb up and out of your throat. You shook your hand free of his grip. “You really want to fix it?” you hissed. “You can leave me alone. Pretend that this never happened. Take your hush gifts and give them to the person who really deserves them!”

And with that, you stormed off to your apartments.

Once you were inside the drawing room, you let out a groan of frustration. Of course, going off with the Fae Lord was definitely one way of getting revenge… but it didn’t feel like it was enough.

You still felt awful for the Orc lady, who was pregnant with that adulterers baby. There had to be something else you could do… some other way of getting back at him and really sticking it to the King’s guard.

And then, an idea came to you. It was a risk to ask, sure… but, the Fae Lord really seemed genuinely interested in you. And he did say himself that he would be open to listening to you if you had any problems. Who knows? Maybe he would be up for your revenge too.

So, that night you arranged a private dinner for the two of you, away from court to tell him what was really going on.

He was perplexed by your request to meet him in a place away from the public eye, but never the less accepted and arrived to dinner with that same pleasant smile he always gave you.

“What’s all this about?” He had asked as you finished setting the table.

You intertwined your fingers together and clasped them in front of you, as if you were about to start praying.

“… Do you remember when you told me that you could sense a sadness within me?” You asked. And over dinner, you told him everything. The secretive meetings, the presents. As you told your sombre tale, you realised how badly it all truly sounded.

Of course, the affair was awful enough on it’s own… but the fact that the Fae Lord had been unwittingly helping you in your payback, would come across as you using him.

And as you finished with the climax of your story, the Fae Lord’s fists clenched tighter around his cutlery. His jaw tightened.

You bit your lip, wanting to explain yourself. “I have to say that your asking me to dance in front of the whole court was what inspired me to continue on with this plan of revenge. I have truly enjoyed spending time with you and didn’t mean to use you my Lord…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” The Fae spat. “It’s an awful thing for him to do to you, it’s no wonder he was so against us dancing and being seen together in the first place. I had half a mind to complain to the King about his behaviour.”

He knocked the butt of his fork on the table as the Lord looked around your drawing room, like there would be some kind of explanation somewhere. “How dare he use someone like that to get his own rocks off!” The Fae Lord hissed. “And especially you. You should have told me sooner, this isn’t something that you should have to deal with alone!

“No, do you know what?” The Fae pointed at you, “don’t do anything else until I say so, alright? We’re going to get this bastard man-whore… or should it be Orc-whore?” He gave you smug smile as you laughed. “For this plan to work,” he continued, “I’ll need to ask permission from someone before I go through with it.”

You frowned. “Ask permission for what?”

The Fae Lord gave another sly grin, “It’s a surprise.” His smile faded as he reached out across the table with a free hand and took yours in his, “I’ve grown very fond of you, (Y/N) and I hope that you have of me too, so with that in mind, please trust me, okay?”

He was right, you had grown fond of him and his presence. It would be strange for him to not be around in court any more. Your heart sunk in your chest at the realisation that he wouldn’t be around for much longer.

You nodded. Lowering your head, you stared at your empty plate and sighed. “… I feel really silly for thinking that he could have actually liked me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The Fae Lord asked, frowning. “I like you.”

You sighed. “I mean honestly liked me. Not just used me as a means to have an affair… I thought that we would get married one day and…” You gripped your skirts.

For a moment, the Fae stayed silent. “You don’t deserve to be loved by trash like him.” He said, firmly. He gave another squeeze of your hand. “And we’ll make sure he knows it. So don’t put yourself down, alright? It’s not you who’s in the wrong, it’s him.”

And once again, he was right. You sniffed. It made you feel a lot better to hear someone say it out loud, and to talk to someone about this affair. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off your chest.

Weeks went by and everything continued on as it had been before. The Fae Lord acted no differently than before your dinner together and the King’s guard grew more and more furious each time he saw you and the Fae together.

He had stopped bothering you since you’d told him to leave you alone… but there was still that foreboding feeling that the Orc was still looking for ways to win back your approval, proved by his scathing looks of the Fae Lord when you and he were together.

And with that feeling hovering in the air at court, you began to realise how stupid you must have been, to believe that you were only worthy of such a deceitful kind of love. You deserved so much more, wanted so much more.

The strangest part about knowing that, was that you felt it might come true very soon. You didn’t know how you could tell, you just knew it.

You began to worry as the final days of the Fae Lord’s stay drew near. There still had been no update on the Lord’s revenge plan and when you asked him about it, he’d always reassured you and given your hands a reassuring squeeze. “I’m just making the final preparations, alright? Don’t worry about a thing, I’ve got this.”

It was all too soon that the final week of his stay around. Everyone in the Palace was suddenly mournful that the Fae Lord and his company would be departing.

The Monday of the week the Lord was going to leave, you awoke to find a gift box. It was carved of wood, the bark of the tree still on it’s exterior and top, with a mossy bow tying it shut.

And as you opened it up, you couldn’t help but gasp at the sight you saw. In a bed of moss, was a necklace made of spider web, droplets of water beads strewn around it delicately. Underneath it, was a note:

I would like to give you a surprise gift every day leading up to the final day before I leave. I hope that if you appreciate this gift, you’ll wear it today and the others that are to come.

Others to come? Was this part of the revenge plan that the Lord had cooked up?

Without a second thought, you put on the gift and when you entered the Queen’s apartments that morning, all the of other ladies practically screamed with excitement for you.

Even the Queen – who never normally allowed herself to be emotional – got involved with her ladies delighted chattering.

The next morning, it was a bracelet made of hardened tree sap – the note detailed that if you licked it, it would make for a good snack – the morning after that, a broach made of butterfly wings.

And every day you wore them, eventually looking more and more like a forest Fae than a human noblewoman.

When the day finally came of the Fae Lord’s departure, you found that there was no gift that morning. Although strange, it didn’t surprise you.

He was leaving today after all, perhaps he just didn’t have time to leave one final gift.

With a heavy heart, you made your bed, adorned yourself with all the gifts you had received that week, and set off to go to court to wish the Fae Lord a good journey home.

Following the Queen to the throne room, the rest of the ladies in waiting seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet. When you gave them strange looks, they all pursed their lips or looked away from you, as if they were trying to hide something from you.

Even the Queen refused to look at you. Although you were sure that you caught a small smile on her lips whenever you all turned a corner.

When you entered the throne room, it was packed with courtiers, all chattering as usual. But there was something different in the air. You weren’t sure what it was, but there was certainly something going on without your knowing.

Once you had taken your place beside the Queen, the doors to the throne room opened and in stepped the Fae Lord with his company.

You had hoped that he would make time for a private goodbye, or at least tell you how his plans for revenge had been progressing.

The whole time you had seen him in court or in other places in the Palace, it seemed as though he was doing nothing to try and help you with your revenge plan.

A part of you wanted to be angry with him for being so slacked about it.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to be. At the end of the day, you’d been able to get back at the Orc in some way; throughout the whole week of you wearing the gifts that the Fae Lord had been giving you, the King’s guard said nothing to you, apart from giving you foul glares from across the room whenever he saw you.

“Your Majesty's, I must thank you for your hospitality these past weeks, it has been nothing but delightful.” The Fae Lord announced.

As soon as the sentence had left his lips, the whole court went silent, hanging onto his every word.

“But, if you do not mind, your Majesty,” he looked at the Queen, “I would like to steal one of your ladies in waiting.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him as the Queen smiled at him. “But of course, it’s been difficult to ignore that you certainly have a favourite among my girls.” She looked at you and tilted her head. “Go on, (Y/N).”

Your head darted between the two. Again, you caught the Orcs eye, who gave you a warning look of carefully concealed fury.

At that, you straightened your back and headed over to the Fae Lord. Once you had come before him, he held his hand out to you.

You took it. Sandwiching your hand between his, he looked you in the eye. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks,” he said, “but they’ve been some of the best weeks of my life. You’re funny and smart,” he lowered his voice. “Vengeful.”

Rolling your eyes with a smile, he continued, “but most of all, you make me happy. So, I ask that you come back to the forest with me and be my wife?”

Your jaw dropped and you clasped your hands to your mouth. “You… you can’t be serious…”

The Fae Lord let an abashed smile come over him. “I am… so, if you’ll have me as a husband…” He pulled a ring, made of wood from his pocket, a white, misted crystal adorned the top of the ring. “This is the final gift… I’m sorry that there wasn’t one for you to wake up to this morning, but I felt you may appreciate it more if I gave it to you in front of everyone.” He gave you a knowing look.

You allowed a devious grin to broaden your lips.

An aww escaped the crowd, followed by a few claps. But before you could give your reply, a shout rang out.

“No!” You and the Fae Lord whipped around to find the King’s guard, abandoning his post. “No, this is completely inappropriate!”

The Fae Lord pushed you behind him, as the Orc towered over the pair of you. He jabbed a thick green finger at the Fae, “what makes you think you can just wander in here and take one of the ladies in waiting?!”

“Actually,” the Fae returned, plainly. “Her father gave me permission. I asked him last night before coming here… Unlike some people here, I’m actually upfront with future family.”

Your eyes widened as the court gasped and muttering began to rise from the onlookers.

You gripped the Fae’s arm and squeezed it. “No, please don’t. You’ve done enough.”

He looked at you, then back at the Orc. “Well, it’s all down to (Y/N)s decision anyway.” The Fae Lord raised an eyebrow and smirked. “After all, it’s not like you have any interest in her, is it?”

The King’s guard scowled at the Fae. But he said nothing.

“Come back here, now!” The King snapped from his throne. “Don’t ruin this moment for the Lady (Y/N) any more than you have!”

“But you can’t possibly allow this!” The Orc turned to face the Monarchs.

“I just did.” The King glared at his guard. He looked at you with kind eyes as he went on, “well, what is your answer?”

Looking directly at the Orc, you took the ring from the Fae Lord and slid the ring on your finger as slowly as possible.

The Fae Lord grinned and pulled you into a tight hug as the court let out an applause.

Wishing the court goodbye, you and the Fae Lord turned and left, without even giving a second glance to the Orc, who was left in the centre of the room, stunned.

“Now this, was a great revenge plan.” You whispered as the pair of you walked down the corridors.

You bit your lip, “I… I was worried that this was just going to be some kind of holiday fling for you.”

The Fae Lord stopped in his tracks, taking your hand. “My darling, I could never, do that to you.”

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[satellite-evans]

Can't pay the bills

A/N : a blurb that came out of nowhere lol enjoy

word count : 600 words ( she's cute)

Harry was sprawled out on the couch, a book in one hand and a cup of tea resting precariously on the coffee table. His oversized sweater and reading glasses made him look like the coziest man alive, completely at peace in your shared home.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, your phone secretly set up to record. The idea for this prank had come to you last night, and you couldn’t resist giving it a go. Harry was so doting, so protective—it was bound to be hilarious.

“Harry,” you called out, your voice tinged with just enough worry to catch his attention.

His head snapped up immediately, the book falling shut in his lap. “What’s wrong, love?”

You wrung your hands for dramatic effect, sighing as you stepped into the living room. “I need to talk to you. It’s… important.”

Harry straightened, sliding his glasses off and setting them on the coffee table. His green eyes searched your face, a flicker of concern crossing his features. “Alright, what is it?”

Taking a deep breath, you sat beside him, biting your lip. “I can’t pay the bills this month.”

There was a beat of silence. Harry blinked at you, visibly confused. “What?”

“I… overspent. Like, really overspent,” you explained, avoiding his gaze. “And now, I don’t have enough to cover the bills.”

Harry tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “Darling, you don’t pay the bills.”

You paused, thrown off by his matter-of-fact tone. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He chuckled lightly, though his confusion was apparent. “You’ve never paid the bills. That’s my thing. Always has been.”

You tried to salvage the prank, pressing on. “Well, yeah, but I was trying to be responsible this month! Take some of the load off you, you know? And now I’ve failed.”

Harry gave you a look, one eyebrow raised. “You’re telling me you suddenly decided to take over paying the bills, which I’ve always handled, without telling me… and somehow ran out of money?”

You nodded solemnly, trying to keep a straight face.

He leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms. “Alright, let me get this straight. You’ve managed to spend more than what’s in your account, on top of what I’ve already set aside for everything? Love, what did you buy? A yacht?”

At that, you snorted, quickly covering your mouth. Harry’s lips twitched, and you could tell he was holding back a laugh.

“You’re not upset?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“I’m baffled, not upset,” he replied, shaking his head. “I mean, I’d be thrilled if you wanted to be more involved, but you don’t have to. You know I love taking care of you, yeah?”

That did it. The guilt of pranking him—and the tenderness in his voice—made you burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, Harry, it’s a prank!” you admitted, clutching your stomach as you leaned forward.

Harry stared at you for a moment before a slow grin spread across his face. “A prank, huh? You think it’s funny to make me think my wife suddenly decided to ruin my perfectly balanced system?”

You were laughing too hard to reply, especially as Harry reached over to tickle your sides mercilessly.

“That’s what you get,” he teased, his voice filled with mock indignation. “Prank me, will you?”

“Harry, stop!” you cried, wriggling away as he pulled you into his arms, still grinning.

When you finally caught your breath, you looked up at him, his face close to yours. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“Sweet, am I?” he said, his voice softening. “You’re lucky I adore you, or I’d make you pay me back by doing the washing up for a week.”

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, love,” he whispered, kissing you gently.

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!!! i absolutely love your writing and am evidently irrevocably in love with wolfstar. i just got my wisdom teeth taken out, and i know you already wrote something for poly!marauders with that, but could i request something for poly!wolfstar taking care of reader a few days after? so less loopy and more pain with lots of fluff and cuddles! feel free to ignore, love you darling!

Thanks for requesting lovely! Hope you feel better soon <3

cw: allusion to chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 627 words

“Hello,” Sirius says when the front door shushes open. He starts to fold over the page of his magazine. He hardly catches a bit of motion from the corner of his eye before you’re flopping down on top of him, forcing a soft oof from his sternum. “Oh, hello. Everything okay?”

You make a tortured groaning sound, forehead pushing into his neck.

“You’re alright, sweetheart.” Remus passes a loving hand over Sirius’ head in greeting, en route to the kitchen. “I’ll get your ice.”

“Aw,” Sirius tuts, letting his magazine lay tented over your back. He palms the back of your head gently. “Hard first day back at work?”

“It feels like it hurts worse,” you mumble into the space below his throat. The tip of your nose is cool where it presses to his skin. “I’m so tired.”

“Oh, I know, baby.” Sirius kisses the top of your head. “It’s not very fair, is it?”

“Pain is tiring,” Remus agrees. He passes Sirius an ice pack to settle against your cheek, holding onto another while he leans on the back of the couch. “It’ll get better over the next few days. Tomorrow should be easier.”

“I can’t think about tomorrow.” Your voice is softer, lips barely moving as Sirius holds the ice to your jaw. You shift your face from his neck, turning your eyes up to his. “Keep me here forever?”

Sirius feels his mouth spread in a grin. “You know I will, gorgeous. And I’ll do you one better, lift your head and I’ll put two ice packs on your cheeks.”

You pick your head up as directed. Remus passes Sirius the other ice pack, and he sandwiches your face between the two with a smile. Your poor cheeks are swollen and bruised, but Sirius thinks you look lovely despite it, even pouting the way you are. You look between your boyfriends as though waiting for them to do something about it.

Remus breaks first. “Oh, my love.” He gives a pitying laugh, folding over the back of the couch to hug your shoulders. “I’m sorry. The pain won’t last much longer, though. Just give yourself some time to heal.”

“Count yourself lucky you had wisdom to take,” Sirius says. “I didn’t have anything they wanted at all.”

“I’m so tired of this,” you sigh, leaning into Remus. “Sorry, I know it’s only been a couple of days, just. It’s just constant, you know?”

Remus hums. He knows better than most, better than Sirius for sure. Sirius feels overcome by a fond protectiveness for you both.

He touches a pinkie to Remus’ forearm where it’s wrapped around your clavicle. “Alright, that’s enough,” he says, rubbing. “It’s cruel and unjust to have either of you ever work again. I won’t entertain it.”

“Oh, you’re going to be our sole breadwinner now?” Remus asks, smiling.

“Quite right. I’ll need the two of you to carry your weight in homemaking, of course, but I’ll manage the rest.”

“And you reckon your income can cover our portions of the rent and groceries and all that?”

“Don’t worry your pretty head over it, darling. It’s well in hand.”

“Let me lie about for the rest of the week,” you sigh. “Then I’ll go back to work and you can stay here, Rem.”

Remus turns his smile into the top of your head, nose denting into your hair. “Yeah? You sure?”

“M’sure.” You shut your eyes. Sirius grins at Remus, thinking that he has about thirty seconds to change positions before you fall asleep and he has to hold you this way all night. “Just need a few days.”

But Remus will indulge you in anything; he stays perfectly still. “Sure, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your head. “Whatever you need.”

[spoiledprincessbratspostsblog]

needing

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Warnings: English isn't my first language so I apologize for any and all mistakes. All GIF credits to the owner. Heavy implications of smut but no actual smut. Kind of Toxic!Rafe but idk??This is lowkey rushed but I needed it to get out there lol.

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚

Being JJ’s sister already meant people had a bad perception of you, but your attitude did not help the rumors anyway. You weren’t known for being nice to everyone, and that was fine because it scared the weirdos away most of the time.

You’ve always seemed strong and independent. Insults usually rolled right off you, and situations didn’t seem to bother you. Being hard-headed and having an attitude all the time was a good cover. But it was all a front. At home, your dad would constantly abuse alcohol, and you and JJ often bore the brunt of his rage. When JJ started sleeping at John B’s house and only saw you once a week, you ended up taking most of the hits.

You were friends with the Pogues, but not as close as JJ was, so you didn’t feel comfortable staying at John B’s house.

You met Rafe almost a year ago at a party. It was meant to be an emotionless hook-up and nothing more. But over time, what started as frequent, meaningless sex evolved into a friends-with-benefits situation. You two began spending a lot of time together, both with and without there being sex involved. He started taking you out to places and even to parties with his friends and others around.

But he wasn’t your boyfriend. And every time you attempted to bring it up he'd claimed he “couldn’t be the man you needed.” Despite that, as you grew closer, he eventually learned about your home life. Rafe wasn’t stupid—he knew Pogues had it hard—but he hadn’t realized how much your situation affected you. How you were really a sweet and caring person who had just been hurt by your situation. Once he did learn, he started spending more time with you at his house, claiming, “Look, I know this is just sex, but come on, I can’t have you around that bullshit, ‘kay?”

You didn’t complain—free days at Tannyhill with him were a welcome escape!

Everything was fine until Rafe started treating you like an actual girlfriend. You wanted to be his, but was he really capable? Anyway, it wasn’t what he wanted—he’d made that very clear—so it didn’t matter.

Then, you two got into a bad argument last week. You’d started feeling very dependent on Rafe, and you hated it. So you began to pull back, which only made him care more. One comment led to another, and…

“Rafe, stop. If you’re not my boyfriend, stop acting like you care about me like one.”

“My god! You don’t want me to care about you just ‘cause I don’t wanna be your boyfriend? S’pathetic.”

“Fuck you!” you yelled before storming out.

You hadn’t seen or talked to him since. He was pissed but still wanted to fix things; he just didn’t know how.

That’s when you called.

Your dad had come home drunk, yelling and throwing things. You could no longer bear it. So you called Rafe.

“Hey, I’ll be at yours in like half an hour,” you told him, not waiting for a response.

When you arrived, Wheezie let you in. (She already knew the procedure and wouldn’t snitch,) but she stopped you.

“Hey, you okay? You don’t look okay,” she asked.

You put on your best smile. “Yeah! M’fine! Rafe’s here, right?” She nodded and let you pass.

When you reached Rafe’s room, he was sitting on his bed. His eyes instantly met yours. You climbed onto the bed, inching towards him, and eventually straddled him without saying a word while he stared at you.

“Hi,” you whispered before kissing him.

Rafe, being a man with needs, initially kissed you back. But after sensing something was wrong, he pulled back.

“Nah, nah, you were just over here yelling at me. I’m not mad, okay, but you’re not okay,” he said, concern in his voice.

You frowned as tears welled up in your eyes. “Rafe, m’fine. I’m sorry. You’re forgiven. Please just kiss me. Come on, I just need to forget.”

He kissed you again but stopped when he felt you begin to cry lightly, your breath hitching out of sadness.

“Nah, baby, come on,” he said, pulling you into a hug and holding you tight.

You couldn’t cry in front of him. You couldn’t be so attached to him. It freaked you out, and you tried to push him off.

“Rafe, stop!” you cried, but his grip only tightened.

“What is it? Is it me?” he asked softly, stroking your hair to calm you down. “Your parents?” he whispered.

Finally, you broke down, crying into his chest and wetting his shirt with your tears. Although you had previously confided in him, it had never been like this. He whispered a series of “M’sorrys” as he stroked your hair.

When you finally calmed down, you pulled back and got off him, heading to his mirror to clean yourself up. He stared at you with concern.

“Shit, sorry. Okay, well, m’gonna go now,” you said quickly.

He immediately got up and walked over, towering over you. “The fuck you are. You haven’t told me what’s wrong or why you tried to forget by fucking me.”

“I just needed to forget, okay? No point crying over something I can’t change.”

“Something you can’t change?”

“What?”

“What is the something you can’t change?”

“The situation with my dad and your feelings toward me,” you calmly explained.

“Now, why’d you think fucking was gonna make everything better, huh?” he scolded, switching the topic.

You looked away. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“What?”

“I thought you’d no longer be mad at me or wouldn’t care if I was crying if you got to fuck,” you said lightly.

He scoffed in disbelief. “You think that’s the kind of person I am? Baby, I care so much more for you than I’ll ever let on, okay? And this isn’t just sex. You are so much more to me as a person. It’s important to me that you know that, ‘kay?”

You nodded, still waiting for him to respond to your earlier comment.

His face softened. “Look, I wanna be your boyfriend, ‘kay? More than anything, fuck, believe me. But I can’t be the man you deserve. You deserve so much better.”

You scoffed lightly. “But I want you.”

He sighed. “Let me better myself. Then I promise.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead softly. “Stay here tonight, yeah?”

You nodded.

Later that night, as you drifted off to sleep, he kissed your arms, shoulders, and face with gentle affection. “I love you,” he whispered before the both of you fell asleep.

[plutotheplum]

Frosted Brushes

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: an ill-timed snowstorm leaves you snowed in with a less than enthusiastic federal agent.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, kissing, oral sex, face-sitting, vaginal fingering, p in v, spanking, mild choking, bestfriend's older brother!leon

wc: 5.5k

a/n: i know i promised blurred lines pt2 (it's coming) but i just loveee the snowed in trope. also leon's biceps - i love his biceps <3

also on ao3!

Getting snowed in wasn't exactly on your bucket list. 

It’d been a mistake, your best friend had said, her voice anxious and apologetic on the phone as she’d tried to make up for the fact that she’d left you stranded here, in the middle of nowhere in a cabin that she had booked. You were only meant to stay here over the week of Christmas and fly back the next, but she’d conveniently forgotten to book tickets for both you and Leon. It’d been too late by then, a vicious snow storm rolling in and ruining all your chances of trying to leave.

You’d stared out the windows for a concerning amount of time, mourning the loss of your upcoming paychecks and not being able to sleep in your own bed. Outside, the snow was packed in tight and you’d been half-tempted to just grab the snow shovel and clear a path for yourself, but the howling wind coupled with the freezing temperature didn’t seem to agree with your plans. The only thing saving you from this woeful situation was the generator that was still up and running. 

The federal agent currently lounging on the couch wasn’t helping either. You’d known Leon since you were children, mostly seeing him around the house when you’d come over to play with your best friend. He had kept to himself all those years ago, shooting you fleeting glances and berating you when you’d gotten too loud playing.

Boredom makes your temples throb and the thought of reading through another book makes you feel nauseous, so you settle on approaching Leon, flopping down on the other end with a heavy sigh.

“Hey,” you say, your feet nudging his thigh, “can’t you call up one of your buddies and have ‘em pick us up?”

“That’s not how it works,” Leon sighs, his eyes flitting down to stare irritatedly at your fluffy sock covered feet.

“What good is being a federal agent then?” you drawl, head tipping back over the armrest.

Leon rolls his eyes, shoving your feet away. You grumble, tucking your feet back under you before scooting forward to peer at whatever work on his laptop screen.

“Classified,” Leon says shortly, turning the screen away from you.

“Seriously, Leon?” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not like I’m going to leak government secrets to a foreign enemy.”

“You might ,” Leon grits out, sending you a glare as you try to twist your body to take another look. 

“Maybe I should be flattered that you think me capable of treason.”

Leon snorts, his eyes glancing over towards you again. “You wouldn’t last a day in the field, dork. Most likely end up getting yourself killed, or maybe even blown up.”

You glare at him, shifting again, making sure to dig your feet into his thigh a little harder as you roll over onto your side on the couch. Leon lets out a low hiss, growing irritated with your petulant behavior. He doesn’t shove your feet away like before so you settle on staying in that position, eyes slipping shut. A tiny sprig of hope unfurls inside of you; maybe if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to sleep the entire snowstorm away.

The weather doesn’t seem to let up, the wind howling outside, a chill beginning to creep into the cabin. You huff out an exasperated breath, eyes peeking open to sneak a glance at Leon. He looks engrossed in whatever he’s doing, fingers tapping against the keyboard, his brows drawn together.

Perhaps you’d struck out, getting stuck here with Leon. Sure, the federal agent stuff was mildly interesting, but he was more like a silent, grumpy lump. It sort of helped that he had a nice face, even if just to stare at. 

“‘m cold,” you mumble, sock-clad toes trying to worm under his thighs, seeking out his warmth.

“Stop complaining,” Leon grouses, nudging your legs away with his hand.

“You’re so mean,” you shoot back, eyes narrowing. “Is it because you got stuck with a desk job?”

Leon glares at you, his touch growing rougher as he grabs your ankle and throws your leg away from him. A yelp escapes you, body bending awkwardly before you straighten yourself up, curling up away from him.

“I’m a field agent,” Leon hisses, snapping his laptop shut.

You shoot him an unimpressed look, eyes flitting over him. “I don’t see a gun.”

“Yeah and it’s a good thing I didn’t bring it, because I would shoot you if I had the chance.”

A sharp scoff leaves you, arms crossing over your chest as you stand up. “You’re such a piece of sh-”

A loud screeching noise cuts you off, your brows furrowing as you glance towards the direction the sound was coming from. It doesn’t take long to figure out what’s happened when the lights in the cabin go out after a moment, the interior lit up by the flickering embers of the hearth. 

“Great,” Leon murmurs, standing up and walking towards the large windows, his eyes landing on the generator, “it’s probably frozen.”

You trail after him, a frown pulling at your lips as you stare out at the snowy tundra surrounding you in every direction.

“Is there no way to fix it?” you ask, fingers pressing up against the window.

“Maybe if we got rid of the snow,” Leon sighs, his hand running through his hair, “but the cold would probably just make it freeze up again.”

“Time to get shovelling,” you murmur, peering up at Leon.

Leon’s gaze flicks towards you, his lips thinning. “I’m not going out there.”

“What?” you ask snappily, irritation prickling across your skin, “why not?”

“Because I’ll freeze to death,” he retorts, “didn’t you watch the weather report?”

You stare at him, eye twitching at his refusal. At this rate, both of you would freeze to death if you weren’t able to get the generator up and running. You didn’t particularly trust the insulation either, although there was enough wood stocked in the spare room to maybe get you through the rest of the nights here.

“So what are you suggesting?” you ask, “that I go out and do it?”

“If you’re desperate enough,” he mutters under his breath.

“You’re the man!” you protest. “Shouldn’t you like protect me or something?”

Leon scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest as he stares down at you derisively. “You’re on your own, pipsqueak. Each man for themselves.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you snarl, stomping over to the door and yanking a jacket off of its hook. You shrug it on angrily, zipping it up tight before wrapping a scarf around your neck. “You’re pathetic, Leon!”

You grab the snow shovel, moving to open the door, only for it to not budge. There’s a moment of silence and you don’t dare look back at Leon. Setting the snow shovel down, you tug at the door handle, yanking hard. 

“Please open,” you whisper, trying to wrench the door open, “please.”

By the time you’re done grumbling and yanking, the door’s only response is a pitiful groan, failing to give way at all, completely and utterly frozen shut.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you mutter, glancing at the hinges of the door.

“Frozen in,” Leon drawls, stepping up behind you, “who would’ve thought? You know, you looked pretty pathetic trying to open it up.”

You turn around to face him, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from spewing a slew of curses at him. Your best friend would pay dearly for this debacle. Pushing past Leon, you stride purposefully into the room you were staying in, pulling free the sheets before managing to haul the mattress off of the bed frame. 

Leon watches with raised brows as you lug the mattress across the floor. You dump it onto the space just in front of the fireplace, brushing your hair out of your face before disappearing into your room again to gather the sheets and blankets.

“At least you’re resourceful?” Leon offers, following suit as he adds his mattress next to yours soon after.

The absence of heat becomes all the more apparent as the night creeps in, your body shivering and teeth chattering every now and then despite the layers you’re wearing. You and Leon settle on soup for dinner, placing the cans near the fireplace to heat them up.

“Maybe we’ll just freeze to death,” you sigh, tugging the blanket draped around your shoulders a little tighter.

Leon hums, glancing over at you. “Maybe.”

You roll your eyes at his short response, padding through the cabin and into the dark bathroom. No generator meant no lights and you weren’t willing to risk using your phone or the flashlights lest the battery ran out.

“Ouch,” you grumble when your hip hits the side of the sink, your eyes squinting in an attempt to adjust to the dark.

You’re too busy rubbing your hip to notice the dark shadow stepping into the bathroom. There’s an arm landing on your waist and you shriek, hand flying out to smack whoever it is. 

“Careful,” Leon groans when he feels you grab at his face, feeling around blindly.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, pushing at his chest.

“Keeping you company,” he shoots back, “not like there’s anything for me to do other than stare at the fire.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” you say, managing to turn the tap on. The water is entirely too cold, but thankfully not yet frozen. You hunch over, splashing some onto your face.

“Funny,” Leon replies drily, his hand slipping lower to hold your hip as you bend over.

Your breath hitches at the action and you hope Leon doesn’t notice, especially with the way you tremble when his hand smooths over your waist absentmindedly. Leon’s touching doesn’t seem to let up and you turn around in his arms, fingers prodding into his chest.

“Stop touching me, you creep.”

Leon lets out a heavy sigh, his hands falling away from you. You manage to bundle out of the bathroom, finding his eyes in the dim lighting. He stares down at you, and you tilt your head in question.

“Nothing,” he huffs out, shoving your face away with his hand.

You grumble, swatting his hand away, padding over to your makeshift bed near the fireplace. Despite the warmth of the fire, you still shiver, and snuggling in under the heap of blankets. 

Leon’s footfalls are quiet as he makes his way over, settling down on his own mattress. Silence passes over you both until a sneeze tickles at your nose, making your eyes water.

“Are you still cold?” Leon asks quietly.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you mumble back, curling up your toes in your socks, trying to bury yourself deeper under the blankets.

You miss the way Leon rolls his eyes, a squeak leaving you when you feel strong arms looping around your waist, tugging you across onto Leon’s mattress. His chest is warm against your back, the layers of blankets growing with the two of you now pressed together.

“Let- let go of me,” you grouse, trying to unlatch his arms from around you.

“No can do, pipsqueak,” he replies, keeping you close, “my sister will kill me if anything happens to you. Besides, I know you gotta little thing for me.” 

“I do not have a thing for you,” you scoff, your denial sharp. You squirm in his arms, managing to roll onto your other side to face him. “That would be gross, Leon.”

“Yeah?” Leon murmurs, his eyes drifting across your face, “you didn’t think it was gross when you told my sister you’d like to sit on my face.”

You sputter, embarrassment making your cheeks go hot. Suddenly, the chill of the snowstorm seems to fade, replaced by a heat that seems unbearable, Leon’s skin warm against yours.

“I- I did not say that!” you protest, trying to squirm out of his arms again but to no avail.

“I overheard you,” he sighs, rolling his eyes when you try to swat at his face.

“Well, fine,” you admit begrudgingly, stopping your struggling. “But you aren’t special . I could name five other guys off the top of my head that I’d enjoy.”

“Ouch,” Leon replies, his eyes boring into yours. “‘m wounded, pipsqueak.” 

You send him a glare before snuggling closer, your face shoving into his chest. Leon lets out a rough laugh, his grip on you loosening. Silence passes over you and the warmth settles down to something more cozy, making your eyes droop shut.

“Could be fun.”

“What?” you mumble sleepily.

“Could be fun if you sat on my face.”

You peek up at him, taken aback. “Have you lost your mind, Leon?”

His lips purse as he considers your words, shrugging his shoulders lazily. “Gotta kill the time somehow,” he yawns.

“‘m not sleeping with you, jerk,” you reply, trying to ignore the fact that Leon, grumpy federal agent Leon , was offering to eat you out.

He sighs, muttering something incoherent that you can barely pick up on. It doesn’t help that Leon’s managed to ruin your sleep, the image of Leon’s head between your thighs popping into your mind. Could be fun .

Leon’s already staring at you when you look back up at him, his brows raising when you play with the strings of his hoodie, twirling and twisting them.

“Do you want to?” you ask.

He considers your words, running his hand through his hair. “I could use the practice. It’s been a while.”

“I’m not a training dummy, Leon,” you retort, but Leon’s already moving, the blankets around you shifting as he pulls them off, grabbing at your sock and pajama pants. “You said it could be fun .”

“Practice can be fun,” he replies drily, pulling your pajama pants off.

You shiver when the cold hits your skin, goosebumps erupting all over immediately. Leon’s hands are warm when he slides them over your legs, his head lowering to take a look at your panties.

“Cute,” Leon murmurs, finger pulling at the band before letting the fabric snap back against your skin. 

“H- hey!” you stop him when he tries to pull them off, eyes narrowing. “You should build up to it, not just go right in.”

Leon rolls his eyes and you huff out an annoyed breath, feet pressing up against his chest. 

“C’mon, Leon,” you say, voice morphing into a taunt, “work for it.”

“You always like this?” he shoots back, glaring down at you.

You give him a snarky smile, nudging your feet against his chest again. Leon shakes his head, grabbing one of your feet. You watch as he dips his head, his lips landing on your ankle. Leon’s lips are surprisingly gentle, his eyes flitting to yours as he trails his lips up your leg, leaving hot kisses in his wake.

A soft sigh escapes you, the tenseness fading as you relax, letting your eyes slide shut as he squeezes your thighs and kisses the side of your knee.

“Good?” he asks, his voice low.

“Mhm,” you nod, hips reacting to his ministrations as he spreads you apart.

Leon’s breath is hot against your skin, his tongue darting out to lick teasingly as he covers your inner thighs with kisses. You peer down at him, reaching out to place your hand in his hair, back arching slightly when he noses into your panties.

You bite your lip when he licks over your panties, feeling wetness beginning to gather between your thighs. His eyes flutter shut when your nails scratch at his scalp lightly, lapping at your clothed pussy until the fabric is wet with his spit and your slick, clinging to your folds.

“That’s cute,” you murmur, “thought this was just practice?”

He huffs out a breath and you smile, letting him lap at your clothed cunt until he’s satisfied. Leon kisses your hip when he rises up, fingers trailing across your thighs before drifting over your panties again, rubbing the drenched material absentmindedly. 

“‘s nice,” he murmurs, reaching up to tug your panties flush against your pussy, his eyes latched onto the way it outlines your puffy folds. Leon’s fingers reach down, rubbing over your cunt, pressing your panties against you harder. He watches the way you bite back the noises that threaten to escape, his lips turning into a frown. “Don’t do that.”

You shake your head stubbornly and he glares at you, tugging your lip out from the confines of your teeth.

“Guess I’ll just have to wear you out, hm?”

Leon’s fingers are greedy as he pulls your panties free, throwing them somewhere over his shoulder.

“Kiss first,” you say quietly when he thumbs apart your sticky folds, “then lick.”

“I know how to do this,” he grunts, gripping your thighs harder to pull you closer to him.

“Well then show me- oh fuck -”

Your breath hitches when he kisses your clit, the bud swollen and aching from before when he’d licked over your panties and prodded his tongue against you. Leon grins against your cunt, his tongue lolling out to lick a stripe over your wet pussy, delving deep between your folds to drink down your slick.

“Taste good, pipsqueak,” he rasps, licking over your cunt, lapping over and over again until your thighs twitch and your hand tightens in his hair, eyes squeezing shut.

“Don’t- ngh- don’t call me that! ”

“What should I call you then?” Leon asks, pulling back to spit on your cunt, his fingers spreading over your clit and pussy, rubbing it in, his thumb drawing tight circles against your clit. “Hm? Baby, is that what you want? Maybe sweetheart? Darlin’, gorgeous, my good girl? All of ‘em?”

You can only manage out a moan, hips rolling up to meet his mouth as the pet-names ring in your mind, a haze of lust fogging over your mind. Leon lets out a hoarse laugh, prodding a finger against your fluttering hole, easing it in. 

A whimper leaves you, cunt clenching around it as he nips at your thigh, tilting his head to suck your clit into his mouth. You shudder as he suckles, tongue flicking against the throbbing bud, teeth grazing across gently. He presses another finger into your cunt, a deep groan leaving him as you clench around his fingers harder, hips jumping when he sucks at your clit with renewed fervor.

“Such a whiny baby,” Leon muses when he hears the little whimpers and whines that leave you, his hand clamping over your hip to keep you in place as you squirm. “Don’t worry sweetheart, ‘m gonna take care of you.”

You mewl, hips rolling again needily as he buries his face into your cunt, slurping and sucking noisily. It makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment, despite the fact no one can hear you for miles.

“Thought- ah- thought you were gonna let me sit on your face,” you mumble out, body shuddering when Leon curls his fingers, beginning to thrust them in and out of you.

“Is that what you want?” 

You peer down at him before managing out a nod. Leon hums, taking a measured suck of your clit and pressing a kiss to it. He pats your hip, shifting to lay on his back in response. It’s nice of him, you think, when he offers you his hand, pulling you closer as you swing your leg over his face as you peer down at him.

“Sit on my face, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of your thigh.

You flush lightly, reaching out to brush the hair that’s fallen across his forehead, running your fingers through the soft strands. Leon’s eyes slip shut and you smile, trailing your fingers over the curve of his cheek before shuffling forward, lowering yourself onto his awaiting mouth.

“Oh,” you breathe out, hands landing on the sheets above his head, gripping them tightly.

Leon groans, hands grasping at your thighs, squeezing the fat of them as he urges you to rock your hips across his mouth. It’s almost too much, the swirl of his tongue, the intensity of his gaze as he looks up at you.

“I like it when you shut up,” you murmur, giving him a smile as you drag your cunt over the length of his tongue. “So much more tolerable this way, Leon.”

Leon lets out an indignant sound and you yelp, jolting when his hand comes down on your ass, your flesh stinging. What an asshole. You glare down at him, gripping his hair harder, pulling at the strands, enough to make it hurt .

He grunts, eyes squeezing shut in pain before he grasps your hips, pulling you down flush against his mouth. Your mouth opens, a strangled moan sounding as you feel his tongue pressing into your cunt.

“N- ngh- no,” you begin to say but Leon ignores you, fucking into your cunt with your tongue.

You can hardly see straight, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. 

“Brat,” Leon snarls, slapping your ass again, “so fucking bratty, sweetheart.”

“‘m not,” you whine, squirming atop his mouth, moaning again when he sucks his clit into your mouth, tongue flicking and swirling until you’re seeing stars. “‘m not , Leon.”

“You are,” he snaps lowly, “bratty and annoying and a fucking pain the ass.” He licks over your cunt again and again. Your thighs twitch, chest heaving as you suck in short, sharp breaths, hunching over when his teeth nip at your folds carefully.

It’s the worst, or perhaps the best because it has the bridge of his nose pressing up against your clit in a way that you’ve never felt before. You rock your hips, gasping, tears pricking at your eyes when he lands another heavy slap to your ass.

“Cum, baby,” Leon hisses, his voice a low rasp, “cum on my fucking mouth. Can you do that, hm? Be a good girl for once and cum .”

You shudder, a sharp cry tearing its way out of your throat as you cum, twitching violently. There’s sweat covering your body, your eyes squeezing shut as you cum. Leon laps at your slick, drinking it down like a man starved. He squeezes your thighs and you tremble, managing to squirm off of him, slumping down over the blankets, panting as your cunt throbs.

Silence passes over the cabin, save for the soothing crackle of the fire. Leon clears his throat, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer into the warmth of his chest.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “you- uh, you good?”

“Shut up, Leon,” you grouse, still reeling from the fact that Leon had given you the best orgasm of your life.

“I didn’t mean it,” he offers quietly, calloused palm rubbing up and down your side, over the dip of your waist and curve of your hip. “Well, not all of it.”

You shift, turning to face him. Leon’s hair looks like a mess and you figure you don’t look that much better, given all the squirming and writhing you were doing earlier.

“Yeah?” you murmur, “well, I mean it when I say you’re a dick.”

“Fine,” Leon muses, a smile pulling at his lips, “I’ll let you h-”

His words are cut off when you shuffle closer, grabbing his hoodie. Your nose brushes against his gently, eyes fluttering shut as you press your lips against his tentatively. Leon sighs into your mouth, his hand squeezing at your ass, his lips working against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, letting out a soft noise when he licks into your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. He can’t help himself as he grabs at you, his hands sliding up under your thick sweater to grasp at your tits. You whimper when he pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers before tugging gently.

“Gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?” Leon whispers against your lips.

You nod, kissing him again, pulling at his hoodie. He sits up, tugging it up over his head before reaching for you, pulling your sweater off of you. Leon swallows when he sees your breasts, his hands reaching for them greedily.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs, dipping his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. You bite your lip, hands cupping the back of his head as Leon nuzzles into your breasts, mouthing at the sides of them, landing soft kisses across your sternum and up your throat before finding your lips again.

Your hands are just as greedy as his mouth, reaching down to palm him through his sweats, the bulge looking inviting. Leon moans into your mouth and you smile, pecking his lips as you dip your hand inside, curling your hand around his cock.

It’s thick and heavy when Leon pulls down his sweatpants, his cock bobbing. You lick your hips, straddling his thigh, stroking his cock slowly. Leon’s eyes are squeezed shut, his head tipped back as his hips buck up into your hand.

“‘s big, Leon,” you murmur, watching with rapt attention as thick globs of pre-cum bead at the tip of his cock.

“Y- yeah?” he whimpers, thighs twitching, “‘s all yours, sweetheart.”

You hum happily, meeting his eyes before opening your mouth, letting spit drop down from your tongue onto his cock. Leon groans brokenly, watching as you jerk him off, cum and spit mixing together. 

“Enough,” he grunts when you swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock.

You pout, shuffling back, enough to get your mouth around the head of his cock. Leon’s grumbling when your tongue swirls around his cock, his hand fisting into your hair to pull you off roughly.

“I said enough ,” Leon murmurs, moving you until you're on your hands and knees. 

“Thought you said your cock was mine ,” you drawl, wiggling your hips, ass up in the air for him. “You’re being- oh -”

A dazed sigh leaves you when you feel Leon’s mouth on you again, his thumbs spreading you apart greedily, tongue licking over your cunt. You turn your head, hazy eyes finding Leon’s hand wrapped around his cock, his grip tight as he strokes himself.

“Want your cock in me,” you mumble, drooling into the pillows when he kisses your clit.

“Greedy,” he says, rubbing his cock against your cunt for a few seconds before he presses his cock in.

You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, hips shifting away. Leon clicks his tongue, pulling your hips back, forcing you to take his cock. It’s girthy and thick, a mewl leaving you as you feel his cock stretch you out.

“That’s it,” Leon whispers, hand smoothing over the length of your back, “take my cock, sweetheart.”

You babble incoherently, leaning back into him when he drapes himself over your back, his lips on your shoulder. Leon draws his hips back before thrusting them forward, making you moan. He smiles against your skin, kissing the back of your neck before straightening out.

“Look at that,” Leon murmurs, letting out a low whistle as he spreads your wider, his fingers stroking the edges of your stretched out pussy. “Greedy cunt’s just swallowing up my cock, baby.”

“More,” you whine, starting to rock your hips back to meet his thrusts.

Leon groans, feeling your ass smack back against his hips. He grips you harder, fingers bruising against your hips, pushing down on your back to make you arch. The action has you squeaking when you lose your balance, toppling forward, cheek squishing into the pillows.

The clap of his hips against yours is embarrassing, the cold around you forgotten in the dim cabin, the thickness of his cock replacing any worries you had.

“So fucking good,” Leon snarls, tugging you up again. “Perfect fucking pussy, baby.”

You cry out when he fucks up into you, his chest flush against your back, his arm winding around your neck. Leon squeezes and you slur out a moan, head turning to sink your teeth into his bicep.

He hisses at the flare of pain, squeezing harder. Your body jolts with every thrust, eyes rolling back in delirium at how good the feel of his cock is combined with the squeeze of his arm around your neck.

“Leon!” you whimper, tipping your head back, kissing his jaw sloppily.

“‘m right here, sweetheart,” he groans, mouth slotting over yours messily.

It’s all spit and sloppy kisses, both of your bodies trembling as Leon pounds into you without abandon. The squeeze of his bicep has your vision blurring, nails digging into his thigh. Your cunt clenches and Leon whines, pressing you back down to fuck his cock into you, hand coming down on your ass hard .

“Gonna make me cum,” he rasps, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud. 

“Please,” you mewl, hugging the pillow to your chest, “please, Leon- wanna cum, wanna cum please .”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chants breathlessly, kissing your cheek, “wait, where- fuck, baby- where do you want it?”

“In- nghhh- in me,” you beg, hooking your foot awkwardly around his leg, trying to keep him from pulling out. “Cum inside , Leon. Want your cum.”

“Shit,” Leon groans, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, his hips humping into your cunt as he loses himself in the tight clench of your pussy. “Sweetheart, you gotta let go.”

“N- nooo,” you whine, shaking your head, wiggling your hips back so his cock presses into you deeper.

He moans, the sound deep and guttural and it has you moaning too, cunt clenching around him like a vice. 

“Pussy’s not letting me go,” Leon snarls, cock driving into you deeper as he slows his thrusts, opting to roll his hips instead. “Fine, ‘m gonna give you my cum, sweetheart. Gonna fill this greedy, little pussy up.” 

You slur out a response, face shoved into the pillow, writhing as Leon rubs your clit a few more times. He curses when you squeeze around him again, slumping over you as his cock twitches, hot cum spilling into you. You bite your lip, dazed and sated as you cum with him, pussy fluttering around his cock.

Leon kisses your neck, panting as he lets his forehead rest against your back. His softening cock slips out of you and Leon turns you on your back, dipping his head to kiss you deeply. You wrap your arm around his neck loosely, sighing contentedly as he massages your hips and thighs.

“I’ll be back,” he whispers against your lips.

You nod, laying there limp. Leon returns with a dry cloth, his lips lingering on your stomach and hip as he cleans you up.

He tugs you into his chest after, kissing your cheek and letting you burrow into his warmth. Your fingers slide through his hair, playing with the soft strands absentmindedly as he smooths his hand over your side, dropping a kiss to your head every now and then.

“So was that good for practice?” you ask, feigning innocence.

Leon huffs out a laugh, his hand squeezing at your waist. “Yeah,” he says, thumb stroking over the curve of your hip, “real good, baby.”

You hum happily, smiling when he tilts his head, kissing you again.

“Does this mean I can see your work?”

“No,” he replies drily, smiling against your cheek. “Still classified, sweetheart.”

“Well, what can I do to un -classify it?”

Leon grins. “I can think of a few things.”

-

“Bring me any souvenirs?” you call out, leaning against the side of your car.

Leon rolls his eyes, dumping his duffle bag onto the ground, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You laugh, letting him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, humming in amusement when he grumbles.

“You’re meant to say you missed me.”

You did miss Leon. After the snowstorm had receded, you’d still been unable to keep your hands off one another, even when you’d returned home. He’d been called on some mission some months later, and now here you were, picking him up.

“Just a smidge,” you murmur, biting your lip when he noses into your cheek, pressing soft kisses across your skin.

You turn your head, cupping his cheeks to pull him closer, kissing him deeply. Leon smiles against your lips, holding you tighter, arms squeezing around you. “Maybe a lot,” you whisper, landing another kiss to his lips.

“I missed you too,” he sighs, tucking your hair behind your ear and pressing a kiss to your forehead. Leon’s lips drift, dragging down over the side of your cheek and to your jaw. He presses you against the cool metal of your car, one of his hands drifting under your skirt.

“Know that pretty pussy missed me too,” he murmurs, “‘s why you sent me all those videos, right?”

“Shut up, Leon.”

“Oh c’mon,” Leon drawls, pulling you back into his chest when you try opening the door to your car, “I liked ‘em, sweetheart.”

He kisses your neck heatedly, a soft whine making its way out of your throat when he squeezes the fat of your ass and pats it affectionately.

“We should go home,” you whisper breathily.

“Yeah,” Leon murmurs, his hand forward to cup your pussy, stroking it through your panties. “Car’s right here though.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse when Leon speaks again.

“Could be fun.”

[farfromstrange]

One Soul | Matt Murdock x Reader

Matt Murdock Masterlist

Summary: Matt gets hurt, badly, so you have to do the one thing you promised him you wouldn't: take him to a hospital.

Warnings: Angst, life-threatening injury, blood, temporary Major Character Death (he comes back, don't worry), mentions of CPR, religious imagery, conflicted relationship with religion, Reader is described as an atheist but Mad At God, prayer, hurt/comfort

A/n: This is a little angst piece I came up with yesterday. For me, personally, my atheism isn't always black and white. I know I don't believe in God, but I have found myself cursing him in the past because it was easier than cursing something I did not understand (like the death of a loved one). And I just know that being with Matt, chances are he will get himself hurt badly enough one day to the point he has to be brought to the hospital.

Read Me On AO3!

The heart monitor beside the bed signals at a steady eighty beats per minute. You follow the many lines of tubing from the machines to his frail body, your eyes lingering on the purple bruises adorning his pale skin—deadly pale, it is. 

His cheeks, once so full of life, are hollow now. His eyes are swollen, his pretty lips cut, and there is blood stuck to his hair, still, soaking through the bandage they applied. You’ve never seen him so broken, so utterly weak and fragile that you wouldn’t dare touch him. The tears refuse to stop falling. 

Years ago, you made a promise. You promised never to take him to a hospital, to protect his identity and him. Hell, he survived the collapse of Midland Circle, albeit with a scattered mind. He had broken bones and a broken spirit, locked away at Clinton Church for weeks, and still, he survived.

Tonight though, for the first time, you felt his heart stop. It wasn’t one of those ghastly nightmares that have been plaguing you ever since you locked Fisk away and he finally came back to you. It wasn’t a product of your imagination; you felt his heart stop. Hands covered in blood, you watched as the life drained from his eyes and he breathed out without breathing in again. 

You swear you can still feel his ribs breaking underneath your fingertips. “Don’t do this to me,” you cried. “Don’t you dare do this to me, Matthew! I can’t lose you. Please, come back. Come back!”

And you prayed to a God you don’t believe in not to take him from you. You begged for a chance to hear his heartbeat again, just one last time even if it kills you. 

You looked to the sky and swore you’d make a deal with the devil if you had to. You’d do anything for this man; this reckless, stupid force of a man you are so in love with that it hurts sometimes. You would’ve let God crucify you for the whole world to see just to get a chance to look at your beloved Matthew one last time, to know he’s alive. And perhaps God did answer your prayers, or maybe the CPR you’d never done before did its trick for he suddenly took a breath, and his heart started beating again.

You cried over his body like Mary over Jesus. You shielded him as if that would heal him, and he clung to you when he realized what had happened. He coughed, and he was bleeding, and you were paralyzed with the fear of losing him again.

What else were you to do but take him to a place where he could be fixed? If you hadn’t brought him here, he would have died. You shouldn’t feel guilty. It wasn't selfish. Yet, the fire within you keeps burning, and your soul keeps hurting as you watch him like a hawk, wondering what he’ll think of you once he wakes up—if he wakes up. 

“I know I’m not… religious,” you murmur, eyes directed at the ceiling now. “I’m not a good Catholic, far from it. I’ve done things… well, you know. And I don’t pray. Matt prays. I don’t,” you say. “I just wanna understand why.”

Another tear rolls down your cheek. The coil in your throat is tight enough to strangle the air from your lungs. One of the shards of your broken heart is stuck, and now you’re bleeding. Your soul is laid bare for everyone to see. 

It’s pathetic, you think, for an atheist to pray. Because you don’t believe, you never have. Matt believes. He has faith. You’re just… angry? Yes, you are furious, and even more now than ever you feel like it’s all a lie. Where’s the hope? Where’s the faith now?

“Why do you keep letting bad things happen to him?” you ask, your voice breaking. “All he’s ever done is try to please you because he thinks you gave him some kind of purpose. That accident… he thinks it happened for a reason. Going blind, losing every one. After all the hardships and the trouble he got himself into, he thinks he’s some kind of soldier. Even when he was at his lowest and stopped believing, he eventually came back to you. Like a dog on a leash.” 

If Matt heard you, he’d be deeply offended. Religion is so important to him, but tonight, he almost died. He almost died before, but it never felt as real as it did tonight, and the thought haunts you like a restless ghost. 

“I want to be supportive, I do. I mean, everyone’s beliefs are valid, in a way, but it almost killed him tonight. If you’re up there—if you’re truly listening—how can you just let that happen to someone you claim to love, God? I don’t–” You shake your head. “I just don’t understand.”

The heart monitor keeps beeping. The lights keep flickering. His chest keeps rising. No answer. The disappointment cuts you deep. Is there perhaps a part of you that does want to believe? Or are you just looking for someone, something, to blame? Instead of the men who did this to him, instead of the men who quite literally took him apart, you’re turning to the one thing you can’t touch. But you know it’s not what Matt would want. He’d want you to have hope.

How does one go about that when everything seems to be going wrong? When your very heart is lying in a hospital bed? How does even an atheist not curse God out of pure and utter desperation? 

Matt lets out a soft groan, and your eyes flick to him. Your heartbeat accelerates at the same time as his. 

“Matt?” you ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed.

He stirs. Every muscle and bone in his body is filled with a dull ache. First dull, then sharp. The stitches in his abdomen pull at the tender flesh with every breath that fills his lungs, the oxygen so rich and concentrated it almost sets him alight. The plastic tubes weigh heavy on his nostrils. 

His eyes pulsate, and there is this obnoxiously loud beeping in his ear. It’s screaming, almost. Beep, beep, beep. Faster and faster, and faster. But his eyelids are so heavy he can’t open them. There’s nothing but fire, and for a moment he forgets that he hasn’t been able to see for decades. 

In his head, he’s eight years old again, his head wrapped with a bandage that itches his skin so terribly, and the world around him screaming. It’s the same room, it seems, cold and dark and terrifying. 

Matt reaches for his eyes, fingers brushing against the bruises that resemble the shape of a fist—no light. He can taste copper on his tongue. The beeping gets louder and his ears are ringing, and why is the blanket made of sandpaper? He wants to tear the skin off his weary bones.

“I can’t–” he breaks off at the foreign sound of his voice. Another trace of his fingertips against the bruised skin. “I can’t see,” he chokes out.

“Matt!” you say a little louder, your hand finally touching his, and it’s as if the bubble he’s in bursts. 

He recognizes your voice. He remembers he’s blind. He remembers going out last night and kissing you goodbye. He was in good spirits then. But something went wrong. Somehow, his opponent had weaponry that could easily break through the protective material of his suit. He stood no chance against the number of men coming at him. They sliced and they hit, and he thought he saw God, but it was just the swinging ceiling light inside the abandoned factory building. It smelled of mold and water. 

He fought until he couldn’t bear it anymore. Until the opportunity to flee presented itself, and so Matt crawled home to you. With every last ounce of strength, he honored his promise to always come back home to you. 

He doesn’t remember much more, only falling down the stairs to the rooftop access to the living room. The crash. Your gasp. Your heartbeat. And then, nothing. Nothing but the comfort of darkness. 

“Hey,” you smile through your tears, “It’s me. You’re okay.”

He whispers your name, and you squeeze his hand.

“I’m here. Try not to move,” you tell him. “You’re at Metro General.”

The word makes his breath stutter. “The hospital?” he inquires.

“Yes. You were hurt… badly. They had to take out your spleen. Fifty-something stitches. Some brain swelling. I don’t know, it’s a lot.” 

“I told you,” he grunts, “no hospitals.”

Matt Murdock is not an ungrateful man. However, his words cut deep. You can’t take much more.

“You promised, no–”

“You died!” you cry out. The echo bounces off the walls and resonates in his ears like the sound of a bomb going off. 

“You died in my arms and I had to–” You look at your hands, stained with blood, “I had to break your ribs to bring you back. Your bones… breaking,” you cry. “You died and I thought I was gonna lose you, for good. You can blame me for breaking a stupid promise, but if I hadn’t, I’d be preparing a funeral now!” 

His head tilts in his direction—you’re serious—and his defenses fall like an iron curtain, shattering like glass. The sound of your voice in such a state of disarray, death by a thousand cuts. 

He almost died. Or, he did die, and you brought him back, but the things you had to do for that… you brought him back, but it hurt you. He hurt you. He swore he would never do so again, only over his dead body, yet it was his dead body that almost broke you. 

Matt never wanted any of this to happen. The love of his life, traumatized. What kind of man does that? Surely the kind of man that no one but the one person he never deserved mourns when he’s gone. 

The silence drags on, suffocating you. “Do you get that?” you ask, barely above a whisper. “Do you get that I’d die without you?”

“I’m so sorry,” Matt whispers. “I don’t remember…”

“Of course, you don’t. You’ve never been this hurt.”

“Sweetheart.”

“I would’ve traded your life for mine if I could’ve. I tried, Matt, I did. I prayed to God and told him to take me instead while I was trying to get your heart beating again. And I blamed Him for doing this to you ‘cause I didn’t know who else to blame.” 

His fingers brush against the back of your hand. A nurse kindly lent you clothes from the lost-and-found, but you can still feel the sticky substance on your skin, crawling like a parasite.

You shudder. “If you hadn’t woken up, I–“ 

“C’mere,” he says. 

Beep, beep, beep, goes the heart monitor, and sirens wail outside his window. 

“I can’t,” you whisper back.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Sweetheart, you could cut out my heart and I’d still want you.”

A shiver runs down your spine, settling in the pit of your stomach. You feel so sick, so detached from everything and everyone, but the piece of you that you almost lost is right there, and he’s alive.

He’s alive. 

You have to keep reminding yourself of the fact. His heart is beating. His lungs are filled with air. Those last few hours might have felt like a proper nightmare, but you made it through. He made it through. 

“Please,” he pleads. “I… I need you.”

It’s different now. He’s not asking to hold you for your comfort but his own, and without another second thought, you climb into the tiny hospital bed with him. 

Matt seeks out the comfort of your chest, but he’s aimless in his agony. You gently guide his head to your heart. Touching him, feeling him so close to you, melts away the last of your fears.

“You scared me,” you confess.

He exhales. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just… promise you’ll live for me.”

The silence wraps a noose around your neck. But then, “You own my heart,” he says. 

“So?”

“Yeah, I’ll live for you.”

Those four words mean more to you than a promise to die for you if push comes to shove. Because what are you supposed to do without him? You’d rather he try everything in his power to live for you than leave you. 

“If you live for me, too,” he whispers then, and a tear runs from his cheek down your chest. You can’t survive without him, that much is certain. That may sound like a state of unhealthy codependency, but when two people share the same soul, every breath one breathes sustains the other. There’s nothing you can do about that, nor would you ever want to.

“Without you, I’d–” he cuts himself off. 

Without you, he’d be lost. Without you, even in death, he would not be able to find peace. 

“I promise,” you manage to say, although the words come with a fresh flood of salty tears that mix with the ocean of his. 

He relaxes into you. “Thank you.”

As he falls asleep in your arms that night, you find yourself staring up at the ceiling again.

“Don’t fail him,” you whisper. To God, to the universe, to the moon and Saturn, and to yourself. 

matt murdock angst tag list: @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @mochie-is-a-librarian @buckyssugarchick

[iamconstantine]

arcane characters as college staff

Mel

History professor 

Refers to all students by (honorific) (surname)

Nothing but praise on ratemyproffesor

“I didn’t like history until I took Professor Medarda’s class” 

Doesn’t write scholarly articles, just giant ass books that she pumps out almost every year somehow

Quickly responds to emails. No response = its in the syllabus 

“Is there any make up work I can do to get my grade up—“ Absolutely not

But if you go the writing center you can get extra credit

Every year her students ask for an extension on the final project and every year she gives a long and furious rant about how the project was visible online from Day 1 and they had all semester to work on it

She has a beautiful office that looks like a miniature library and she only sees students by appointment

Jayce

Physics professor

Is a prolific author but somehow can’t figure out how to set up the course online

Prints cheesy physics memes 

Every zoom meeting begins with 1000 messages saying “professor Talis we can’t hear you your mic isn’t on” every. time.

you can come see him in his office any time, door’s always open

but his office is so messy you probably won’t be able to sit because he has a stack of papers on every chair

“Everyone got this question on the exam wrong so I’m going to give everyone credit because that means i didn’t teach it properly”

Always throws an end-of-year party at his place 

Caitlyn

English Literature professor 

would win best dressed of the staff, always shows up in the slacks-and-blazer fit

“To understand why the narrator wears red shoes, we need to take a look at the sociopolitical state of Edinburgh in 1864.”

if you reply to a discussion board post with just “I agree” you’re not getting credit and it isn’t up for discussion 

Never reads contemporary fiction. The “newest” book she’s read is The Great Gatsby

“We’re not having a party but if you want to bring snacks and soda to the last day of class that’s fine”

Covers a lot of authors but it somehow always comes back to Emily Dickenson

Is that teacher that assigns 400-page books every week

Constantly publishing in lit journals (rumor has it she writes steamy open-door romance books under a pen-name but no one has confirmed this)

Ekko

Art professor 

You have to actively screw up to get a bad grade with him

He wrote thousands of letters to the board until they caved and gave the class a proper kiln

“Write a three-page essay explaining why AI art is not art and insisting otherwise is spitting in the face of humankind. Double spaced. Due Friday 11:59”

Throws back coffee. Has a coffeemaker in the studio. Two of them. 

“Hey guys some of you are submitting assignments at 2 in the morning. It can wait until the next day. Please get some sleep.”

He’s created awe-inspiring pieces but if you just wanna paint a frog wearing a hat he’ll say “that’s cool”

Says he knows who banksy is but will never tell

He gets way too deep in the zone. Once reached for his coffee cup while painting, drank paint water instead. Didn’t notice.

Jinx

Chemistry professor 

If you email her the response will be “k” or “no” and nothing else

Waits until twenty minutes after the class begins to email everyone that class is canceled 

Never wears a coat, goggles, or gloves. But will call out students if they don’t

takes 5 years to post grades

“Look I’m not remembering any names. Too many. If I’m talking to you I’ll just point”

Puts a meme on the projector every day. Mostly incomprehensible. Picture of a horse on an beach and it just says “Zimbabwe”

lowest score on ratemyprofessor

someone creates a website called ratemystudent and administration has no proof that it was her because technically the students with bad scores being the same students that get bad grades in her class can be coincidental 

Viktor

Biomedical engineering professor 

Only professor who still uses chalkboards

First day of class is first day of class. No reviewing the syllabus, turn to page 34 in your textbook.

Puts things in the syllabus to catch people who use ChatGPT. If you’re caught, you’re removed from his class. Immediately. You will not get to plead your case.

Most of his cited sources are himself

Literally begs students to thrift their textbooks online instead of buying them from the school. Provides free PDFs as often as he can.

He reads journals every day and will write personal letters to authors he disagrees with

If a student asks a particularly dumb question he’ll step out of the room for ten minutes to compose himself and then resume teaching like nothing happened

Vi

Not a professor, works at the on-campus gym and leads clubs

Constantly curses without batting an eye. Students will leave class with their very uptight professor then come to the soccer club where vi walks in like “sorry I’m late guys i had a motherfucker of a headache this morning”

Please don’t ask her about anything that isn’t club or sport related. If you ask for directions or how to get in contact with student services she’s got nothing

If she refs for a game and you’re on the opposing team you’d better watch yourself. She will rip you a new one if you break any rules. One time a player grabbed one of her member’s mask during a game and he left crying after Vi was done with him

Students run into her at the local hangouts a lot but it’s never awkward. just reminds you not to party too hard before the game tomorrow 

Leads pretty much every club but dance. Wouldn’t admit it but she has no sense of rhythm and refuses to even do it as a student

You can call her coach or captain or just Vi, whatever you want. But if you call her Violet she’ll stare you down until you correct yourself

Heimerdinger

Anthropology professor 

Spends the first day of class getting to know everyone. “We’re going to go around and give our names and a fun fact about ourselves!”

Gives the “Nacirema” assignment and can’t wait to tell everyone the catch

His classroom is filled with artifacts. Don’t ask about any of them because it will take up class time

If you can’t make it to class he sends really nice responses saying he understands, then checks in when you come back

The only thing that puts him in a bad mood is the “why do anthropologists study dinosaurs if anthropology is about people” question. He’s old and tired 

Keeps thinking about retiring, keeps changing his mind

Silco

Political science professor

His classroom is bare and blank. No life. Just fluorescent lights and chairs.

Brags about how few people pass his class

Very strict on attendance. Too many absences and you’re out. 

If the assignment is due at 11:59 and you turn it in at 12:00, it’s late

“I am quite interested to hear why you believe you are deserving of a higher grade when you’ve spent less than thirty minutes attending all of my classes combined. Please, continue.”

Will straight up roast other professors no problem. Encourages students to pass it along

He encourages debate but the only thing students debate about outside of class is whether he’s hot or creepy af

Final project is a choice between A) A ten-page essay on why there is no ethical consumption under capitalism, or B) a presentation on why the country is doomed

Vander

Education professor 

Makes his own series of Crash Course-esque videos

Comes to class in jeans at best. Sweats, sometimes. 

He has one coffee mug that says #1 Dad and he refuses to use anything else

He puts fun questions on his exams, like riddles. If no one gets it, he actually gets sad

Whenever he erases the whiteboard he always misses a spot. He’s that professor.

If he catches you plagiarizing, you get one pass before he reports it. But you have to come to his office so he can tell you how disappointed he is and how much potential you have

He gives a seminar about how worried he is for the future of education and the wellbeing of the next generation and everyone leaves feeling guilty. Everyone.

Make a pop culture reference in class and everything will grind to a halt so you can explain it to him. Visuals help.

Sevika

Librarian

If you play music in the library she’ll walk up to you and just go “are you joking”

Have a phone call on speaker and she’s hanging it up for you

There’s signs telling you to be quiet every three feet

If you see her outside of school no you didn’t

She’s in charge of leading classes on accessing academic databases and she fucking hates it

Somehow knows where every book is down to the shelf. She’ll tell you what you’re looking for before you can finish your sentence

technically she’s supposed to do a walkthrough before closing for the night but if you can’t read the library hours on the signs it’s your fault if you get locked in

[perkypeony]

𝕋𝔸ℕ𝔾𝕃𝔼𝔻 𝕀ℕ 𝕋ℍℝ𝔼𝔸𝔻𝕊

Model Nanami Kento x fashion designer reader

You were flicking through the pages of your sketchbook, your head spinning as you tried to decide which design would be best for your new streetwear collection. You thought you’d ask your friend's opinion later, but for now, you were going to get ready and head to the newly opened branch of your daily wear boutique.

Despite studying fashion design during your time at the creative arts academy and being able to create meticulous designs, you opted to build your own brand of daily wear that’s stylish yet affordable. Your business started small, but with the support of your friends—who happened to be the famous actor Gojo Satoru and the rising singer Geto Suguru—more people came to know your brand. Just last week, you opened the third branch of your boutique, and you were already planning to open the fourth branch overseas in a few years.

You got out of your midnight black Mini Cooper and saw a long line outside the boutique. It was probably too crowded inside, so the staff had asked the customers to queue outside. You made a mental note to install some sort of shade so the customers wouldn’t have to wait in the sun. The staff recognized you immediately and greeted you, asking if there was anything they could help with. You told them you were just doing a little observation.

You smiled as you overheard a customer praising the high quality of the material despite the affordable price. As you walked around, talking with some customers for feedback, you spotted a blonde man wearing a black mask—one you’d recognize anywhere. It was the hot model, Nanami Kento. He became famous after modeling for big brands and even appeared on the front covers of internationally known magazines. And to add to that, he was your crush back in the creative arts academy and still is today. That’s why you would remember him forever.

You admired his calmness and respectfulness. He always maintained a very professional work ethic. Unfortunately, you and he had never been close, only talking a few times. The only person you still kept in touch with was Nanami’s best friend, Haibara. He tried to set you up with Nanami, but you were always too shy and quickly declined his crazy plans.

You were surprised to see him in your boutique. Did that mean he wore your creations? Not gonna lie, sometimes you imagined him modeling your designs, but you had never hired a famous model before. After all, you had two famous friends willing to post pictures of themselves wearing your brand on social media. Without those two idiots, you wouldn’t have been successful today.

You gathered all your courage to say hi to him, hoping he would remember you. “Hi, Nanami. Uh... what are you looking for?”

“A hoodie,” he replied, then looked up to meet your eyes. “Y/N? I never thought I’d meet the designer herself.”

So, he did remember you. You could feel your stomach do silly things. It was probably the butterflies. “I’m just doing a quick observation. Is this your first time at my boutique?”

“I’ve bought a few pairs of pants and shirts from your boutique before. I really like them. And since this new branch is closer to my condo, I thought I’d give it a visit.”

“Thanks for your support. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said with a warm smile. “We haven’t seen each other in quite a few years. Do you have any plans tonight? Maybe we could catch up over dinner?”

A dinner? With your crush? That surely sounded like a dream come true!

“I would love to go to dinner with you tonight,” you answered, trying not to sound too giddy.

“Perfect. Text me your address, and I’ll pick you up at 8.”

“Alright. I have to go check on the... um... cashier. See you tonight.”

Nanami nodded and smiled as he watched you leave. He couldn’t wait to tell Haibara that he had finally asked you out for dinner.

[wordywarriorwrites]

Between the Pages

Title: Between the Pages | AO3 | T+

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader AU

Summary: A photograph brings you back together.

Warnings: Hints of spice.

A/N: For @jolapeno Dear-uary challenge. Prompted in bold/italics.

The photo Joel texted to you didn’t come with any additional context.

His thumb covered up the racier bits, but still, you knew what he had in his hand. A rather salacious polaroid: a private, intimate moment captured forever on film. A photograph meant only for your eyes and his. Something to be kept secreted away, and now, perhaps best forgotten about entirely.

Especially given the circumstances…  

“I found it tucked into the book you loaned me,” he followed up. “Right after the sex scene. Was that on purpose, or just a coincidence?”

You swallowed hard and rolled onto your side, “You should burn that.”

“Not gonna happen,” Joel shot back.

You paused, fingers hovered over the keyboard, cheek smashed into the feather pillow that still carried the faintest trace of his cologne. The two of you had been seeing each other for a while and had inevitably strayed into “where is this going” territory. Keep it casual in one direction, make it more serious in the other, and neither one of you with a map. And other than agreeing you enjoyed each other’s company and that the sex was rather phenomenal, nothing else had been discussed or decided.  

What were the kids calling it? A situation-ship? Is that what you’d gotten yourself into? Whatever the case, a couple of weeks had passed since the night of that particularly awkward conversation, and for a moment, you gave into the pull of your more defeatist thoughts.

You mused that you must’ve misread things. You had a drawer at his place, and he had one at yours, but it was just about convenience – not a sign of intention or genuine attachment. Sure, his glovebox now carried some of your favorite snacks because he knew you tended to get hangry without any warning. And okay, you kept his preferred coffee (sludge, swill, tar) on hand because he didn’t truly appreciate your more sophisticated blend (he swore it all tasted the same).

Or maybe he just didn’t want you anymore?

You groaned, flopped onto your back, and dropped that metaphorical hot potato because it was just too early for such dark contemplation. But still, you threw back the blankets, placed your phone on the nightstand, and got out of bed. From there, you went through the motions – hair and teeth, robe and slippers, toast and coffee.

Mug refilled with a second helping, you sipped and decided a trip to the grocery store was in order. Toilet paper and milk made the top of the list, but the bread wasn’t added because you heard the front door open, and the question of whether you were about to be killed by an axe murderer in your kitchen while wearing your favorite, fuzzy bathrobe was answered when Joel walked in.

It seemed as if he’d rushed over, and it was fucking criminal how good he looked, stood in the passthrough, breathing a bit ragged, damp hair clearly finger-combed, and flannel shirt buttoned all askew. The coffee pot spluttered in the silence, and he fiddled with the hideaway key he used to get in – the one you probably shouldn’t have shared the location of, especially if the two of you were going your separate ways.  

“You didn’t reply,” he blurted by way of greeting.

You stood tall and placed your mug and pen down on the island, “I didn’t know what to say.”

Joel nodded. Ran a hand over his beard. Paced back and forth for a time before he eventually stopped and put his hands on his hips. You met his eyes and tried to brace yourself for whatever he’d just geared himself up for, but the question he walloped you with still hurt.

“You wanna break it off?”

You blinked rapidly and cleared your throat, “Is that what you want?”

“No,” Joel sighed out raggedly. “It’s the last thing I want.”

“So, what do you want, then?”

The little stone turtle that held the spare key in its shell was carefully placed on the counter. Then, Joel slowly rounded the island, his steps careful, almost hesitant. You remained rooted, and you proved to him with your stillness that you had absolutely no intention of running. This talk could no longer be avoided – not if the two of you wanted to move forward. But achieving world peace would’ve been easier than not reaching for him, for the comfort of his touch – especially when he gripped your waist in his hands and turned you to face him.   

“Just want you,” he asserted, straight from the hip, and without any hesitation. “For however long you’ll let me have you. That alright?”

A veritable kaleidoscope of mixed emotions rushed through you. Your relief must’ve been palpable because when you nodded, Joel’s dimples made a rare appearance, and he swept you up into his arms. A breath later, you were being kissed until you were dizzy, and you made no protest when he started to shuffle you out of the kitchen and back into your bedroom.

“Christ, I missed you,” he groaned as he tugged at the tie of your robe.  

“I missed you, too,” you sighed against his mouth. While you worked on the buttons of his flannel, he yanked the belt free from his jeans and kicked off his boots. “But if you won’t burn that picture, at least hide it better than I did, okay?”

Joel grunted and shook his head, “Nuh-uh. Gonna frame it.” He pushed the robe from your shoulders and grinned again. “Maybe even put it on the fridge.”

You laughed and pinched his side, “Don’t you dare.”

He chuckled, shoved his jeans and boxers past his knees, and nudged you toward the bed. The sheets were cold when your back hit them, but they didn’t stay that way for long. Captured by his bedroom eyes, whatever doubts you had, whatever worries you carried – they all melted away. And everything you felt and wanted was distilled into just a few words.  

“Don’t let me go, Joel,” you breathed against the apple of his cheek. “Please, don’t let me go.”

The way he pulled back and looked at you. The way he kissed you – soft and slow, your chin gripped in his hand. The way he whispered “never” in such a way that was somehow achingly tender and fiercely possessive…   

There may not have been a camera to capture the moment, but you knew you’d remember it forever.

[lunarriviera]

What are your thoughts on the last ep of under the skin...that cant be shen yi right...im seeing a lot of twin theories but thats a weird plot twist honestly 😅

to answer this question i guess i have to get up off the floor first, where i have been lying facedown and motionless since uts2 ended over a week ago. two weeks ago? yesterday? today? i don't know anymore i've lost all track of time, who are you? where are we?

oh right—the s2 ending. you must mean this scene, right? what a great way to end things! du cheng, happy, walking to meet a group of friends at his birthday party! truly wrapped up the whole drama, and left us in such a heartwarming place with our favorite characters!

...oh you didn't mean that ending? you mean there's another one?

[mindless screaming behind the cut AS WELL AS SPOILERS]

[and this winds up being about all of s2 as well as the final tag, OOPS]

so okay listen before i can even address this without the mindless screaming, i have to level with y'all here: s2 was rough on me. there are only like three du cheng stans in all of anglophone cdrama fandom and i'm probably two of them ( @wannings-wontons is the other one, thank god for her). i've written eleventyleven fics from his pov so i am ferally protective of my big stupid hot cop son. this season put him through the goddamn wringer and for my taste there were just a few too many scenes of du cheng looking like he was about to burst into tears while shen yi was smiling winsomely, for all the world as if he were not the one personally causing his captain to experience devastating mortal agony. allow me to demonstrate.

in the driver's seat: unspeakable anguish. literally can't talk.

in the passenger seat: hey nice air conditioner! guess what i have a new friend! i spent the night at his place, talking about infinity and human potential! in a few more episodes he'll be a murder suspect!

(i'm getting to the cliffhanger, believe me i'm getting there, no really i am, we just have to spend a minute dealing with the divorce arc first)

because, while i absolutely adore angst bambi (as @whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst has immortalized him), and thanks to @elenothar have firmly adopted him as a most beloved emotional support twink (not least because i suspect tan jianci is himself kind of a genius; no triple threat should be this good of an actor), i also honestly not infrequently this season wanted to drag shen yi into the men's room by his pretty hair and flush his pretty little head down the [redacted] until he came to his pretty little senses. because while later in the arc he clearly is, you know, attempting that deep-cover thing, and has to reject du cheng to his face, right in front of Evil Eugenicist Art Critic Weasel Man, in order to gain Weasel Moriarty's trust, etc.—

there are also a bunch of times when du cheng is visibly upset and miserable and in genuine pain, and shen yi just laughs. literally laughs at him. like tan jianci what are you doing, do you want the audience to dislike you? how are you trying to play this?? are we supposed to think, wow shen yi sure knows what he's doing? are we supposed to think he suddenly has the world's worst taste in men? because long before Weasel Man smashes a vase and snaps at his lab assistant and possibly kills someone and has assorted tantrums which start to tip off shen yi that maybe his new bestie is kind of a bag of dicks—long before that starts happening? shen yi just likes that guy. he LIKES him. enough to quote whitman to him (fang kaiyi you take his queer name out your mouth); enough to stay up all night painting the stars with him and we don't know what all else. enough to hang out in his lab for days on end, listening to junk science and pretending to understand the human genome and just what. shen yi. WHAT. he's literally a Bond villain styled like an asymmetric reptile—all this, just because he's tall? and he's gone to the symphony a few times? what, because he negged your painting, and that turned you on? i shouldn't have said any of that, but i did; and now i refuse to take it back. because inside me are two wolves, and they sound like this:

one wolf has been extremely online for many years, and thinks she's very hip and chill and jaded. this wolf talks in memes and laughs at herself, and she's like: “haha fun drama! Solving Crimes Through Art! lol i can't believe this turgid love song playing over a romantic montage, wow it's so stupid.” and also: “lmao divorce arc so hilarious, WELCOME HOME CHEATER lol get it, good joke right?” and: “oh my god why is there another pointless cliffhanger, they will NEVER GET a s3 what are they thinking. this scene is therefore not canon and can be safely ignored, just like the s1 tag turned out to be a ~~~dream."

but the other wolf is lying motionless in her barrow in the darkness flat on her stomach in mouldering leaves and mud head resting on crossed paws staring into the night with her old yellow eyes and she says they stabbed my son and left him alone in his blood and the last thing he saw was a cruel face worn by the boy he has come to love a boy standing at the end of the alley looking down at his phone who then moves past him and keeps on walking

and then, you know. then i lie on the floor for a week! which is fine, i'm an extremely psychologically healthy person who has certainly not at all outsourced her entire emotional well-being to an imaginary public safety bureau criminal investigator on the coast of southeast china.

so what do i think about the cliffhanger? here is what i think about it; and again, sorry for the hatchet job on shen yi but it was relevant:

1. i do think it's a dream, yes. they've already played that game with us—we waited two years to find out who was carving up shen yi's creepy murder-red self-portrait and whomst should it be but…nobody! just shen yi having nightmares about his future fling, apparently. (notice, too, how fang kaiyi GRABBED that craft knife, which shen yi had deliberately left on the easel, and didn't even ask why it was there. he might be tall and elegant and have good taste but he's nowhere near as smart as you are, shen yi. do better.)

2. whose nightmare is it, though: shen yi's, or du cheng's? remember that the first time du cheng meets fang kaiyi, he tells shen yi, "he reminds me of someone: the old you." (and shen yi laughs merrily, even though nothing about that is funny, either the observation or du cheng's immediate mistrust and jealousy. TAN JIANCI WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING). then, later, on the precinct rooftop, after the case is all over, shen yi confesses yet again that there's something in him that's not altogether good, that he has quote "demons," and that if he hadn't met du cheng, he might have gone down some vague unspecified dark path. not quite sure how a portrait artist was gonna become a mass murderer or whatever, but okay i guess. there was something off about shen yi 1.0, and du cheng could see it even a decade ago and he didn't like it then any more than he does now.

given all that, then, the nightmare is probably shen yi's. he's prone to them anyway, and he knows now how badly he's hurt du cheng, and that he came dangerously close to, well, getting into bed with the enemy. i don't think it's even until fang kaiyi is so limpidly nonchalant about zhou shanshan's death that shen yi's inner moral compass comes shrieking back into play (and then it really does; shen yi who never raises his voice out there just shouting that man down).

there's one argument to be made for the case that it's du cheng's nightmare, though, which is the way that he looks up at the camera at the very end of the shot, and laughs. shen yi 1.0 is standing too far away for that to be his point-of-view. so who's standing over du cheng? and who would he laugh at, in recognition, like that? shen yi 2.0, presumably (or 3.5? not sure what version we're on anymore).

either way here's my final observation, and then i swear to god i'll shut up, before the shen yi stans come for me like maenads. i was chatting with @wannings-wontons and she said something that absolutely blindsided me, which is that the cliffhanger literalizes the arc of the series: shen yi did, in fact, metaphorically stab du cheng in s2. why else would either of them dream that? du cheng being badly, even fatally wounded by arrogant young artist shen yi is precisely what happened during the divorce arc. and their reconciliation was so heavily censored as to be, to some of us anyway, unpersuasive. (two cops, talking on a rooftop all night! five feet apart cause they're not gay!) as @wannings-wontons said: "the last scene just reflects how badly hurt he was. and we're left to decide whether he'll recover."

so which is worse, dreaming that your lover stabs you? or dreaming that something twisted inside you stabs the man you love?

tldr, shen yi doesn't need a soap opera evil twin: he's his own evil twin, and he knows this. and what is more, du cheng knows it now too. if there's ever a third season, which seems completely impossible to me, the writers have to know that they have NOT fixed this.

fortunately, we have something censored production companies don't have, and it's called fanfiction. so bring on the episode codas, my friends. bring on the long painful conversations and the shouted arguments (du cheng never even got to yell, except once in a parking lot because he was frantic). bring on the tender reconciliations that can only come after those blowout knock-down-drag-out fights, and are therefore real and grounded, not stilted, wooden, woefully inadequate mockeries of reunion. let people throw furniture and cry and try to explain and plead and confess and even, sure, why not, grab the other person and kiss him breathless, and say I don't want to do this without you, say don't put me through that ever again, say but this isn't enough and I need something different, say okay then let's figure that out together, say i'm sorry i hurt you, you're the most important person to me and that's the last thing i ever want to do.

it's up to us, not to leave them there in the alley like that. but the good news is if it's work, it's only work. and it's our work to do.

[kooksvspogues]

Happy 1st Birthday Lilian!! 🥳

Part 8 - last part

Authors note: for everyone that has read this story, thank you soo much! If you have any ideas on more stories, feel free to reach out or comment. Remember all feedback is greatly appreciated! Hope everyone has had a good week and are staying warm 🩵

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

When I pull up at Drew’s place, I undo my braid to reveal somewhat decent curls and pull the visor down to check my eyes in the mirror. The tears finally let up about 10 minutes ago but my face was still red and puffy. I take a deep breath, giving myself a mental pep talk before looking at the time, 5:56.

I grab my phone and pull the keys out of the ignition and hop out of the truck. I hurry up the steps to his front door and knock, waiting to hear anything. I knock again after a few minutes and I finally hear footsteps.

“Mack I’m sorry okay, I’m sorry you’ve been up all night because of me, but it’s not even 6am, can we talk about it later?” I hear him say and I knock again, “listen I gotta go, apparently somebody else is up at this time” he says as I hear a thud and his footsteps coming closer to the door before the door swings open revealing a very irritated and very shirtless Drew.

His facial expression immediately softened when he seen me and at the sight of him, all I can feel is more tears forming and falling from happiness of what’s coming.

“Woah, come here” he says pulling me inside and closing the door quickly. He pulls me into his chest and holds me tightly as I wrap my arms around him. “Mack was just going off on me on the phone, so what happened?” He asks me and I can’t help but chuckle lightly.

“Can we talk?” I ask pulling away to look up at him. He uses his thumb to wipe the loose tear away, but I can’t do anything but stare into his eyes.

“Yeah, of course, cmon” he says placing his hand on my back and leading me to his couch, “need anything? Water? Coffee?”

“No no, I just need to get this off my chest” I say as he gets even more nervous

“Okay..” he takes a deep breath keeping his eyes locked with mine, “can I just say, I am extremely sorry that she seen us last night, but I’m not sorry I kissed you..”

“Drew, just listen” I lightly laugh grabbing his hand as he closes his mouth, holding my hand even tighter anticipating what I’m about to say, “I have thought about this conversation so many times and never can get it completely right so just bare with me. Just in the past few days you’ve done everything you could to let me know that you still wanted to give this a shot and I turned it all down for obvious reasons-“

“But?” He asks trying to read my face

“But, it’s my turn” I say

“What do you mean exactly?” He asks

“I mean, Mack knows about the wedding. She knows everything-” I tell him but he quickly cuts me off

“Is that why she was chewing me out?” He asks making me laugh slightly

“Dreeeeew, listen” I laugh grabbing his face, cupping his jaw with one hand while the other hand covers his mouth, “you listening?” I ask as he nods slowly, “okay, so Mack came to talk to me, she kinda put two and two together about us at their wedding and she apologized for how she acted towards us last night-“ he cuts me off mumbling and pointing towards his phone while I cock an eyebrow at him before making him playfully roll his eyes and smile against my hand.

“Aaaas I was saying, she apologized, and told me that she hasn’t seen you interested in anybody in a while and same for me too. Kinda shocked she didn’t put it all together before now but yeah, so here I am after finally getting the permission I felt like I needed for this to happen to ask you if you’d still be willing to go on that date you were talking about with me?” I nervously smile at him as I pull my hands away from his mouth

“Is that even a question?” He asks me crossing his arms

“I don’t know, maybe I’ve aggravated you too much dealing with Mack and now that we ain’t gotta hide, you may not want it-“ he cuts me off

“I’m gonna need you to kindly shut the fuck up and come here” he says pulling on my arm to pull me over to his lap so I’m straddling him, both of us smiling ear to ear at each other before starting to lean in

“Oh! and she only ‘called to chew you out’ to make sure you was awake when I got here, plus to freak you out a little”

“What a great sister I have” he rolls his eyes sarcastically as I lightly slap at his chest

“That great sister of yours didn’t even take 4 hours to decide this was okay, I’d say she really fucking amazing” I tease him

“You’re right, but if she thinks I’m not gonna be overly touchy with you just to get her back for that, she’s very mistaken” he says smiling making me laugh as I lean in to peck his lips, “God, I’ve wanted this for so long” he mumbled against my lips

“What?” I ask leaning back to look into his eyes

“For you to be in my arms with no fear on both sides” he says reaching up to push a strand of hair behind my ear, keeping his hand on the side of my neck, “you’re so beautiful, Maddie” he says making my face go red

“It’s too early, hush” I say laughing nervously

“Never too early to tell my girl she’s beautiful” he says pulling me down to meet his lips again.

“Your girl?” I ask smiling once we pull away again

“You’ve always been my girl, just was waiting for you to realize that pact didn’t own you” he shrugs

“I’m sorry” I say looking down

“Don’t be sorry, you had your reasons and I think everybody understands why you did it the way you did. It may have took 2 years but who cares, but I do have a question”

“Go for it” I tell him

“Did you really not have any interest in anybody since that night?” Drew asks me

“Nope. The time we shared at the wedding was what I craved to find again, ya know how everybody will sit there and say they want something real but the moment they get in front of ya, they only have one thing on their mind so I always found a way out of it.” I explain to him, “what about you?”

“Same here. Yeah the guys and even Mack tried to set me up a few times but there was no connections, just ‘it’s Drew Starkey from Outer Banks,’ and that’s not what I want, I wanted the realness we had and have right now, I wanted you” he tells me making me blush

“You have me, ‘Drew Starkey from Outer Banks,’ I’m all yours” I wink at him as he rolls his eyes pushing me playfully

“I regret it already” he playfully says

“Oh just wait” I tease making us both laugh, “I’ll be your best nightmare”

“There’s no part of me that doubts that” he laughs pulling me down against his chest to wrap his arms around me

“I’m sorry I lied to both of us” I admit

“What you mean?” He asks

“I tried to pretend you didn’t exist, that there was never a smidge of feelings there, I didn’t have big enough balls to admit to myself, let alone admit it out loud, but your mom really helped with it” I tell him

“She talked to you?” He asks

“Yeah, it was nice, first person I felt comfortable enough to talk to about it, especially when she told me her son ratted us out the same night of the wedding” I laugh raising my eyebrows at him

“I was at a wedding, thought I just met my future wife, but it couldn’t be a thing because of my sister, and then you just took off. What else was I supposed to do?” He asks m

“Keep them lips closed” I joke, “no, I’m glad she knew, I just wish I knew she knew so then I could have actually talked to somebody about it”

“You coulda texted me” he points out

“Yeah but I felt like that would be weird” I explain

“I thought about texting you a lot, like I went and stole your number out of my mom’s phone just incase, and ya know sometimes when my mom would call you to check in?” He asks

“Yeaaaah?” I say

“I was always standing right there, it was ninety percent of the time my idea for her to call” he admits

“You know, some of that was personal stuff” I tell him

“If it started getting personal, she would tell me to go, I promise” he smiles

“Mhm, that is sweet though, looking back, I really don’t know what I would have done if you started talking to me..” I tell him

“Yeah, that’s why I never did, I didn’t want you upset, but, with all this being said, how about, we go get a few more hours of sleep, wake up, get ready and I’ll take you back so you can change and we’ll go on that date?” Drew offers

“Already?” I ask sarcastically

“Took us two years babe, plus you’re only in town for a few more days then going back to Florida for what? One? Two months? I gotta make your time here worth it and keep ya coming back” he smirks up at me

“I’m okay with that” I smile

“Good, you didn’t have much of a choice” he shrugs, “you ready?”

“For what?” I ask just as him stands up with ease making me squeal before unfolding my legs and wrapping them around his waist quickly as he walks us toward a door. His room I’m assuming.

“I’m getting some proper cuddles” he says kicking his door open before throwing me on his bed making me laugh

“Well come on Mr. Starkey” I wink, raising my arms towards him to come lay on me, which he happily obliges.

“I could get used to this” he says squeezing me as I squeeze him back

~~~~~~ 43 days later ~~~~~~

I had been back in Florida for over a month, getting everything packed up and ready to move back to North Carolina. I was originally going to just ship what wouldn’t fit in my car but decided to rent a U-Haul trailer for the trip.

As of Drew and I, the day before I flew back to Florida, he asked me to be his girlfriend and he has even flew out here to visit for a week. Other than that, we FaceTime every chance we get. Everything about our relationship has been great.

“So you ready to head out?” Drew asks me over the phone

“Yeah, just dreading the long drive alone but it’ll be worth it once I get there” I tell him.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to see you babe” he says

“I can’t wait to see you either, you almost to your hotel?” I ask him

“Yeah, just a few minutes away” he answer’s

“Well I hope you and the boys have a good weekend, but I think I’m gonna get off here and start putting the last bit of stuff in the trailer, I’ll talk to you later?” I say

“Absolutely, see you soon” he says

“See you soon Mr. Starkey” I tease before hanging up

I go to tape up the last box and stack it on top of the last few I have to load up. I grab my backpack and make sure everything is in it, before grabbing my keys and phone throwing them in my purse. I check the time on the microwave; 6:56am. The sooner I get out of here the better.

I go to pick up one of the last boxes but just as I get it situated, there’s a knock at the door. Maybe it’s Jeff coming to help.

I sit it down and walk over to open the door, “Morning Je— Drew?! What are you doing here?!” I yell jumping into his arms

“Surprise! I didn’t want you to have to drive that far by yourself, knew we’d be on the phone most of the drive so I just decided to come physically be here with you” he explains leaning down to kiss me

“That’s really sweet but you didn’t have to do that” I say keeping my arms wrapped around him

“I know but I wanted to, I’d much rather be with you than anything” he says hugging me

“What about the guys?” I ask

“Ummm, soo I kinda lied, we didn’t plan a weekend trip, I just told you that so you wouldn’t get suspicious on my way here” he explains

“Wellll I really liked this surprise” i say leaning up to kiss him

“Good I’m glad, is this all that’s left?” He ask nodding toward the last 4 boxes

“Yes sir and then I gotta run the key to my landlord” I tell him

“I’ll get everything loaded up” he tells me as I decide to do a quick run through to make sure I’m not forgetting anything yet again.

Once we get into my vehicle, we drive over to my landlords and leave the key with him, and of course make a pit stop for coffee and a quick breakfast. Once we get back on the road and headed home, there’s never a dull moment. There never is between us and I hope that never ends. All I can say is thanks to the best little Goddaughter I could have for being a huge reason that Drew and I are where we’re at now. I feel Drew’s hand grab mine and squeeze tightly.

“So how long you gonna make me wait before you’ll just move in with me?” He asks in all seriousness

“Only time will tell babe. It’ll happen when it needs to” I smile over at him as he squeezes my hand again,

“I’m just ready to be with you all the time” he admits

“We’ll have our day, I promise” I tell him

“I love you beautiful” he smiles

“I love you too” I smile back

The end

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

Tag list: @percysley @dilfs-4life

[violetmuses]

Don’t Go Screamin’ - R. Reigns🖤

Fandom: WWE 

Character: Roman Reigns

Love Interest: Female Reader

This Idea 💜

@episodes-ff @expert-texpert @persethegawd @adriennegabriella @fearlesschimera @secretlifeoofmarpessa @mytribalnightmare @adoresmiles @blackgurlnhermoods @babybratzmaraj @luvrsluxe 🏷

====

During this special episode of “Smackdown,” timing lined up their annual “Women's Money In Bank Ladder Match” and thousands cheered as the winner raved on screen, grateful to hold this accomplishment. 

In the middle of this deserved celebration, spotlights changed out of nowhere and music switched, thundering beats to cut off everyone. 

“Wait a minute. No! It can’t be.” Commentators scrambled through countless emotions as professionals observed behind the alert table. We’ve heard so many rumors, but it’s finally happening! She’s here. She’s cashing in!” 

Clutching the well-known briefcase, you sprinted down this large ramp and darkened both eyes, ready for war. 

“Take down the winner. Go! You have one chance here. Just go!” Announcers nearly cross-talked over and awaited your possible victory. Even fans yelped back, nearly shrieking in this place. 

“Cover. 1-2-3!” The counting bell rattled out loud and you can’t hear thoughts while falling backwards against this mat. “Holy hell! Meet our new champion, ladies and gentlemen.” 

“I’m here! Who can stop me now?” Standing up once more, you grabbed the championship belt and cheered skyward, feeling invincible.  

“Congratulations to our newest champion! Thank you so much for watching this program. Good night and we’ll return next time.” Announcers pulled one last update to end the broadcast. 

******

For another weekly episode, heroically ominous music pulled various emotions as The Tribal Chief Roman Reigns stood tall, flagged by talented cousins Jimmy and Jey Uso. “Ones” lifted up high as fans elevated greatness on live television. There’s no turning back whatsoever. 

“The Tribal Chief will always exude power..” Announcers welcomed this dynasty with each passing moment. 

Out of nowhere, lighting dropped around the ring and sneaky laughter echoed from shadows with new rhythms, cuing another entrance. 

Once lights brightened again, you appeared ringside in silence, turning everyone’s night upside down. 

“What the hell?” Announcers pulled flabbergasted expressions to heighten this upcoming moment. “Oh my. Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for chaos. She’s back!” 

Sliding into this ring once more, you watched members of The OG Bloodline, noticing when Jimmy and Jey Uso traded glances first. 

Wiseman Paul Heyman covered his mouth in shock, almost terrified that you pulled audacity this evening. 

Soon enough, Tribal Chief Roman Reigns stepped forward, prompting an outright frenzy of screams during this moment. 

Almost towering beyond height, Reigns sported this graphic t-shirt and clothed pants. Sneakers moved along once more. Styling dark hair with a bun, this greying beard welcomed his chiseled face. 

“Be careful, Champ. Roman doesn’t share spotlights.” Commentators pulled their warnings to you again. 

Nearly sizing you up, Roman bit his lip. Even Jimmy and Jey can’t believe what’s going on right now. 

“Before we get to the good stuff, do you even know who I am?” Pulling his Southern accent forward, Reigns almost chuckled through one strong and deep voice. 

“Uh-oh! Our Tribal Chief has spoken. What will you do about it, Champ?” Despite measuring Reigns, commentators still wanted you to help you out and fans offered encouragement. 

“Cat got your tongue, Sweetheart?” Teasing this moment with chances to flirt, Roman went further. 

“Don’t fall for Roman’s charm!” Announcers scrambled once more and thousands of people lost their minds. 

“I saw everything. We saw everything. Gesturing around, Roman still addressed you and this audience cheered even louder. “Last week pulled one of the biggest nights in history.” 

“That’s right. She’s the champion!” Commentary pulled another chance to scope your newest title. 

“Remember that I’m The Tribal Chief.” Roman almost lowered his voice. “Join us.” 

The crowd gasped, waiting for your response. 

“No.” You stood your ground, declining. 

Supportive cheering reached otherworldly decibels. Even when you dropped that microphone down, your music picked back up and spotlights flickered, ending another chapter of this saga. 

*****

“I’lll keep watching her. It was crazy, Uce!” Jimmy Uso huddled with his cell phone and watched your championship match during this new segment. 

“You think Ro likes her?” Jey pulled another question about you and Reigns. Curiosity nagged beyond words. 

“I don’t think so. Flirting’s okay, but Roman acts too selfish.” Jimmy shook his head. 

“Good point. He barely puts up with us.” Jey shrugged, quickly watching your footage once more. 

Moments later, Roman entered the space and welcomed his chance to sit down, joined by Paul Heyman as usual. Fans still cheered through the walls. 

“You good?” Jimmy questioned Reigns. 

“Turn it off.” Roman gestured by Jimmy’s phone. 

Members of the audience booed when Jim’s phone turned silent, but there was no other choice at this time. 

“What’s up?” Jimmy waited. Even his twin brother Jey still looked on. 

“There’s another match. We should go.” Roman faced his cousins, ready to watch your part of the episode tonight. 

“Hold on. No way! We can’t interfere, man.” Jimmy spoke up first. 

“I’m not saying interfere.” Roman corrected his statement. 

“Then what’s going on?” Jimmy scrunched up his face. 

“We just…watch…” Roman almost shrugged. 

“Nah. We run this show, but don’t take the spotlight away from her.” Jimmy looked out for you regardless, especially this time around. 

Jimmy walked off before Roman could respond, closing this segment. 

________

“There it is! Another highlight for the Champ.” Announcers welcomed your ongoing victory streak. “Enjoy your celebration.” 

“She’s here!” Fans pulled your slogan once more. 

“USO!” Upbeat yet almost rattling music spiraled thousands out of nowhere and you immediately glanced over. 

Dynamic pair Jimmy and Jey Uso walked down this ramp. Big-time cheering would turn even louder. 

“What’s wrong?” You questioned your “brothers” when this crowd settled. 

“The Tribal Chief’s looking for you.” Jimmy offered the truth. 

“I won’t join your faction. I’ve already refused.” You declined this chance once more. 

“We’re not talking about The Bloodline.” Jimmy explained further. 

“Roman Reigns?! Where did he come from?” Before you could ask more questions, cheering heightened around the venue as commentators expressed shock. 

Towering his muscular build, Roman locked eye contact with you and shadowed power near edges of the crowd. 

“I’m not asking anymore.” His strong voice woke up everyone. 

Joining this ring, Roman passed that microphone elsewhere and sized you up, walking closer until your bodies almost met. 

His famously brown eyes pierced into your soul. 

“The Tribal Chief could plot so much tonight.” Announcers played up fear. 

“You won’t join our team, but I have another idea…” Reigns didn’t even laugh. 

“What?” You’ve asked. 

“Go out with me.” Roman dropped this bombshell. 

“Oh my goodness! What kind of question is that?” Commentators pulled astonishment right back out. 

“Why didn’t you just ask before?” You laugh. Even Jimmy and Jey listened for Roman’s upcoming answer. 

“Never thought I’d say this, but you make me nervous.” For once, this quick smile would brighten Roman’s face as he offered your compliment. 

The crowd swooned everywhere. 

“Why?” You grinned, waiting. 

“Where should I start, y’all?” Roman turned by the audience while still encouraging your presence. Cheering picked right back up. 

“Be careful! We’re still on live television.” Announcers warned Roman no matter what could happen next. 

“You’re talented, badass, and beautiful. Maybe we could…” Reigns trailed, biting his lip once more. 

“Help the family, then we’ll talk.” You understood that power might fall if Roman didn’t stand true on his word. 

Jimmy and Jey saluted, watching you leave this episode on the greatest cliffhanger of all. 

[anotherjheastan]

No Fooling Me

A Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley FanFic

CW Suggestive, mentions sex, fluff

I leave before you wake up

The sun up

Now I’m having coffee, eggs, and regret

Am I the only one in your bed?

You just wanna have fun

And I thought I wanna have fun

…

But I want you to be true, at least true with me

You can lie to all the other boys but no fooling me

- No Fool by Joseph Solomon

Jey slowly blinked open his eyes. He smiled when his eyes focused on Rhea. He carefully sat up and stretched and looked at her again. He wondered how she could look so beautiful even in her sleep. She had one arm curved over her head and her face was relaxed.

I could get used to this, Jey thought as he reached out and touched her cheek. She didn’t move, but the smile faded from his face because that was a serious thought and they weren’t serious. They weren’t together.

They were having fun and getting to know each other, but Jey knew enough. He knew he wanted her for himself, but he didn’t think she felt the same way about him. He heard her phone buzzing as he slipped out of bed. He put his boxers and sweatpants on. He had checked her phone before and she hadn’t minded so he just touched the darkened screen to light it up. His heart sank. Messages from Matt 🖤. A few weeks ago, he was the only one with a heart next to his name: Jey 💙. So what did that mean for him? She hadn’t told him she had met anyone. But maybe she was planning on doing that. Because although she had told him he was the only one with a heart, a few days later, she canceled their date. They started hanging out less and texting less too. Yesterday was their first date in a while and it was fun: dinner, drinks, and dancing. Jey was going to go home after, but she asked him to stay. She said she had missed him and apologized for being distant. And then one thing led to another.

Jey threw the rest of his clothes on. He quickly brushed his teeth with the spare toothbrush she had given him yesterday. He had gotten his gym bag out of the car yesterday when she asked him to stay so his date night clothes were already packed up. Maybe he was overreacting, but he couldn’t be there any more. He didn’t want to talk about Matt and whatever feelings she had for him. He only cared about how she felt about him, but he feared that didn’t matter any more. And it was too early to feel such complicated feelings. He looked at her one more time, sleeping soundly. He could wake up to that face forever, but Jey accepted that this would be the last time. And he left.

He went to Waffle House since that’s where they were planning on going. He sat in the back and pretended to look at the menu like he didn’t know what he wanted to get. He tried not to think about her, but she had been on his mind for over a year, even before they started talking. Getting Rhea off his mind wasn’t going to be easy. He figured she’d be getting up now and if he was there with her, she’d pulled him into the shower with her. And they’d take forever to get ready since they’d be fooling around the whole time. The last of the breakfast crowd would be filing out by the time they’d finally get to Waffle House.

Jey half smiled and shook his head. The waitress came and took his order: two hashbrowns scattered and covered, three scrambled eggs with cheese, two chocolate chip waffles, and a lemonade. She refilled his water glass before dropping his order off.

His phone buzzed. It was a text from Rhea.

Rhea: Where are you? Is breakfast off?

Jey didn’t respond. He didn’t want to get wrapped up in her again if this was the end. And if it wasn't the end because of someone else, it would probably be the end because he pissed her off.

Jey thought about their first date. He was so nervous. They had gone axe throwing. They agreed to meet there. When he saw her come in, he realized she was nervous too. But it didn’t take long for them to relax and have fun. He got it before she did so he helped her.

“Let me show you my technique,” Jey said.

Rhea laughed. “Oh you have a special technique now? Show me please.”

“You gotta let it go before you think you need to,” Jey said, smiling.

He stood behind her and put his arms around her, his hands on her hands holding the axe.

“I feel like this is an excuse to get close to me,” Rhea said.

“I’m trying to make sure you don't accidentally hit anyone with these wild throws you’re doing.”

“Oh this is for public safety?” Rhea asked, not being able to keep in her giggles.

“Exactly. Stay focused,” Jey said, chuckling.

As much shit as Rhea wanted to talk, she did land the next throw and the ones after that.

She called as the waitress brought the lemonade. He listened to the voicemail.

“Jey, what’s going on? Are you alright? Did something happen? Can you call or text me please? I’m starting to worry.”

Well he didn’t want her to worry.

Jey: I’m good.

Rhea: Gee thanks. That’s it? You’re usually not the have sex and vanish guy…Do I have to worry about that now?

Jey shook his head, but couldn’t bring himself to text that she didn’t have to worry about him at all.

A few minutes passed and Rhea sent a text with question marks: ???

Jey didn’t respond. He had to start the separation process. Rhea would be okay. She had Matt Black Heart Emoji to keep her company.

As the waitress brought out his food, Rhea walked in. Jey tried to not to look at her, but their eyes locked. A confused and hurt look crossed Rhea’s face as she approached him. She sat down in his booth.

“Oh can I get you something?” The waitress asked.

“Can I get a coffee please? Black?” Rhea asked.

“Coming right up,” the waitress replied.

“Thank you,” Rhea said.

Jey quickly stuffed hashbrowns in his mouth. Rhea rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Jey, you’re acting weird. What’s going on?”

Jey pointed to his mouth.

“Yeah, I know you just shoved food in your mouth so you don’t have to talk to me. We had fun yesterday I thought? Are we okay?”

Jey swallowed and sipped his lemonade. So this conversation was gonna happen. Got it.

“Who’s Matt?” Jey asked.

Rhea’s face softened slightly, but her arms were still firmly crossed. “I started talking to Matt a few weeks ago. I’m getting to know him.”

“The same time you started being distant,” Jey said.

Rhea dropped her arms and sighed. “Jey…”

“You think I’m stupid, Rhea?” Jey asked, anger bubbling up.

“No,” she snapped.

“You think I wouldn’t figure out there was someone else?” Jey asked.

He ate some more hashbrowns and started cutting into his waffles.

“It’s not like that, Jey,” Rhea said.

“Really?”

“I mean, I wasn’t trying to be sneaky about it. We had this conversation. I just got out of a relationship. I’m not jumping into a new one. If I meet people I like, I’m going to talk to them,” she said. “And you said okay, remember?”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

The waitress, wide-eyed, gently put the coffee cup in front of Rhea and scattered.

Rhea’s eyes quickly widened with shock before anger settled on her face.

“No. I’m only sleeping with you,” Rhea said, words dripping with disdain.

She sipped her coffee and Jey sighed.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Rhea drank her coffee, cutting her eyes at him every so often. Jey focused on his food, ignoring the pangs he felt when she had her eyes on him.

“So you like Matt?” Jey said.

“Yes. And you what? Saw his name in my phone and got upset? That’s why you left?”

“You’re not ready for a relationship, but I can’t share you,” Jey said, looking at her.

Rhea’s breath caught and she sat back in the booth. They stared at each other.

“I don’t mean to make it seem like I’m playing games because I’m not,” Jey said. “I know how I feel about you. And it’s not casual. And I wanted some space because if you like someone else, if you wanna explore shit with him, I need to process that.”

Rhea looked down at the table. The waitress came back.

“Did you want to order anything, hon?” she asked.

“Can I get some chocolate chip waffles to go?” Rhea asked. “Two please.”

“Right away,” the waitress said. She walked away.

Rhea looked at Jey. Their eyes met as he finished the last of his eggs.

“You didn’t tell me how you were feeling,” Rhea said quietly.

“It didn’t hit me until this morning,” Jey said. “You’ve been distant, remember? And then I saw Matt with a black heart next to his name and I figured it didn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Rhea said. “I care about you, Jey. Our time together means a lot to me. You’ve helped me through so much.”

“But Matt’s not nobody, huh?”

Rhea sighed. “I’m sorry. He’s not nobody.”

Jey nodded slowly. He felt tears burn his eyes, but he blinked them away.

Silence settled between them a little more comfortably this time.

“So why did you sleep with me yesterday?” he asked.

Rhea sighed and covered her face. She looked at him. “I missed you. You’re special, Jey. I don’t know what it is about you. But I needed to see you yesterday. Like I needed this breakfast with you.” She reached her hand out to him.

“I missed you too,” Jey said, taking her hand in his.

“The problem is you’re not nobody either,” Rhea said.

“You can’t have us both,” Jey said.

“I’m not ready to choose,” Rhea said, squeezing his hand.

Jey let go of her hand. “Not choosing is choosing though.”

Rhea’s eyes watered, her empty hand lingered on the table. Jey looked away.

“It’s okay, Rhea,” Jey said. He sighed and looked at her. “I want you to be happy. You deserve happiness, especially after last year. If talking to Matt makes you happy, do it. We’ll always be friends.”

The waitress dropped off Rhea’s waffles and two checks. She collected Jey’s empty plates and asked if he wanted another lemonade. He shook his head. She left.

Jey grabbed both checks and pulled out his card.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rhea said. “I can pay for mine.”

“It’s okay. I got it. Next time, it can be your treat,” Jey said, a soft smile on his face.

“Next time?” Rhea asked, locking eyes with him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Let me know if it’s a friend date or not.”

Rhea smiled. “Okay.”

The waitress took his card and came back. He left a big tip for her.

“You ready to go?” Jey asked. “You must be starving.”

“Yeah I am starving,” Rhea replied, standing up. “You gonna walk me out?”

“Yeah,” Jey said.

Once outside, Rhea leaned against her driver door and looked at Jey. Jey slipped his hands in his pockets, looking her up and down.

“I was dreaming about you,” Rhea said. “And before I opened my eyes I was like wait he’s actually here and I was so happy. And then I look and you’re gone. And then you’re not texting me back. And I didn’t just know something was off. I felt things were off. And it still feels off and I hate that. And I’m gonna get in my car and go home and miss you. I will miss you all day today. But I know it doesn’t matter. Because there’s someone else. But I worry that I won’t be able to let you go either.”

Jey leaned into her. He heard her breath catch and he smiled. “If you can’t stop thinking about me even when you’re with him, you come back to me,” he whispered in her ear. “But I won’t wait forever.”

He leaned away and she nodded, her face flushed.

He grabbed her chin. “No. Use your words.”

He was certain flashbacks of last night were on both of their minds then.

“I-I’ll come back to you,” Rhea whispered.

He smirked and let go of her chin. Rhea bit her lip.

“Bye Rhea,” he said, heading toward his car.

“Bye Jey,” Rhea said breathlessly.

He watched her get in her car and drive away before sitting in his driver seat. Jey sighed, clicking on the dating app he had downloaded last week. He still needed to set up the profile. He figured he would get started on that today. He started his car and drove home.

Alternate endings coming tomorrow (1/11)!

[eternaltempest]

Light without Darkness

{Part 2 / TBD}

Demetrian Titus x Fem reader

! 🔞 ! ✠ Pregnancy ✠ Violence (chase scene?) ✠

A/N : God this park took forever. Also writing the latter half took the writussy outta me. Not sure what else to put for tw so uh- good luck!

Tempe out! ✌️

S : After a chance encounter with a guardsmen, you find yourself pregnant and terrified of the future in store. You plan to escape, only to be stopped in your tracks by Demetrian Titus himself, who gives you an unexpected vow

Part 1

Following the celebration, your days return to relative normalcy. You and the other serfs are put straight to work cleaning up after the feast. This one was particularly... unseemly and the messes made throughout the fortress take nearly a week to properly cleanse. 

You and your fellow serfs are no stranger to disarray though, and it is cleaned with efficacy. 

While working, however, you notice a set of unwanted changes within your body. At first you're just sore, that which is to be expected and only lasts for so long. And even the bruises and love bites eventually fade with time, albeit you found it tedious to cover them up each morning. But such was the livery codes of serfdom, as no self respecting serf would present themselves in such a manner before their lord. 

This was all manageable and you are able to pull through after a couple weeks. However, the soreness and pains were replaced with a sudden sickening dizziness and nausea. 

Each morning, you wake queasy and unsteady, a green tint to your bronzed skin damn near every morning. Your senses become hypersensitive, particularly to smells and you end up forgoing breakfasts, running to the nearest chamber pot or window each time you get a scent of anything unsavory. Which was more often than not.  Still, you press on. You dismiss the minor aches and inconveniences; the unusually strong, lingering odors of over seasoned food or the caked on sweat and blood of the infantry's laundry.     

Yet as days turn into weeks, you continue to push your luck and brush it off. You convince yourself that it’s just a passing sickness. Everyone falls ill at some point, you tell yourself. And many of the serfs became ill after the feast, you were just taking a bit longer to recover, that's all. Nothing more.

But by the time you know it, it has nearly been two months since the night of the feast. The morning sickness shows no sign of stopping and other symptoms arise as well, like near constant exhaustion even when you've had a full night's rest. you start to become anxious as you cannot deny the looming truth any longer. 

You find yourself one day brooding and sitting on your bed in your shared room, half-asleep and clutching your aching stomach. You stress about your realization and the truth of your... condition. You wearily get up and head to the serf maids common area, everyone else is there and as you enter the chamber there is a noticeable hush in the previously boisterous conversations. 

The other serfs have long noticed your behavior as well, but in your exhausted state, you fail to register their concerned whispers. 

Your friend Zoahra and two recently conscripted serf maids; the twins Sydia and Dynia, approach you out of concern. 

Zoahra puts a hand on your arm and tenderly pats you “Morning lovey, we're all a bit concerned for you, are you… feeling well?” You blink through the mind fog that seems to perpetually follow you, bleary-eyed and exhausted. "I am well, just a little tired.” you lie, forcing the corners of your mouth into a smile. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you are most clearly NOT, fine child!" A voice sharp but smooth pierces the hushed mutterings of the room. You turn around and realize it’s one of the older head serfs, Icara, a woman everyone sees as a mother in her matronly role. She’s seen many things in her long years as both a midwife to the high Lords of Macragge and a veteran serf. Throughout her years her eyes and mind remained sharp as steel and she was known for picking up on falsehoods or sniffing out a rat.

“You are not fine,” she scoffs. “And your deceptions are as poor as your health, child." She booms as she squints her knowing eyes at you. The room erupts with more whispers and you realize what everyone has been talking about. You hang your head with a mixture of embarrassment and shame.

"WHO TOLD YOU LOT TO PRATTLE ON ABOUT MENIAL TOPICS, ALL OF YOU, BACK TO WORK. IMMEDIATELY!" Icara booms, causing the hive of serfmaidens to frantically scatter to their posts. Zoahra, who stayed by your side, gives you an apologetic look and stays right where she is. The twins in their curiosity stay as well.

You four are left alone with the matron as she refocuses her attention on you. "Now, child, I am no stranger to the throes of life as a serf maiden. Nor am I ignorant to the annals of youth. And I promise you, no harm will come to you if you speak with honesty and humility. So that being said, if you'd please, tell me. Who is the father?” she sternly but gently coaxes you.

You hesitate, taking a pensive breath before answering in a rattled voice, “One of the guardsmen, an officer, I think. He had a beard but I… I-” 

You swallow your nerves before continuing. “Forgive me, Icara, I cannot remember. My memory of that night is all a distorted blur.”

“Emperor guide us, let’s hope it’s not one of the insufferable ones, like Major Cytharion,” Zoahra says with a sigh of exasperation. Cytharion is known to be a strict officer to both his serfs and the guardsmen under him. He has a presence as intimidating as an Ultramarine.

Your stomach churns at the very thought.

“He’d never. If anything, he would be easier to deal with if he got a little action. Even his personal serfs say he’s a headache.” one of the twins says with a wag of her eyebrows. "Besides I heard he's made friends with a company of Ultramarines and they often let him train with them!" Another adds enthusiastically.

"Just think if he ends up being an Ultramarine." At this point the twins are going back and forth, forgetting that the matron is right there beside them. 

"No way, that's unheard of. Regular people like Major Cytharion cannot become Space Marines so late in life. It's a whole process that starts at boyhood, you know." 

"Well maybe that's why he's so wound up, he missed his shot right? And that's why he's just a Major in the Imperial Infantry?" 

"Tch Major Cytharion, more like Major pain in the-"

The matron tsks and snaps her fingers at the two of them. “If you have the ability to stand idle and chitter then, you most certainly can start thinking to help.”

The twins are stunned into silence but turn to you and offer an apologetic bow, to which you return with a pat on their heads. They remind you of the younger serfs that grew up with you.

“Now, we must make plans,” the matron says firmly. “You may not recall the face of the father, but he will certainly remember you. In order to avoid confrontation, you'd best get to the outer city. I have connections there, people: good people, who can help hide you. Keep you and the child safe until enough time has passed to avoid suspicion. If we time everything correctly you may leave within-”

"Wha- pardon me, Matron, but leave?? I cannot leave. All my life I've only ever known the inner city and this fortress.” Your face twisting in horror as you imagine the situation 

“And a serf can't simply leave, we're hunted down and forced to return to our lords. Nevermind about the subjection to any manner of punishment. It's dangerous!" You plead with a tinge of fear in your voice. Such notions of fleeing your livelihood are unthinkable to you and many others in servitude.

She pauses, her tone deepening when she speaks. “Ordinarily, yes, this would be unheard of. However, given the circumstances you cannot stay. If you do, you'll be punished either way, and even worse, your child could be taken and you would have little say in it. You must have strength.”

You reel slightly and your face contorts with the realization. They're both dangerous options, but at least with the former you'll be able to be with your child and it wouldn’t be subject to a life as a serf like your own parents subjected you at birth. You swallow a knot in your throat and meet the eyes of the Matron. 

"What must I do?"

She begins to explain her plan with precision worthy of her years. Like she has done this a million times before, and it comforts you in your hour of need. The preparations will take time, lots of time. Over the next fortnight, you all coordinate in between downtime and shared chores. Practicing over and over until everyone has their parts memorized by heart. 

A few days after you are with Zomahra and Icara, hanging up sheets to dry in the inner courtyards. It dawns on you to ask something that has been at the back of your mind since the day in the common room. 

"Why are you all helping me?" You ask with a curious and cautious tone. 

They both pause their work and steal a glance at each other before once more busying their hands. But nonetheless they answer in haste. Icara is the first to speak.

"Many years ago when I still worked as a midwife to many of the Lords and their ladies I was also midwife to the locals. Young maidens such as yourself, but oh how they struggled. You know not of the desperation countless women suffer through. Many of them endured violent acts at the hands of their lords and subsequent retaliation of their envious ladies. And many more succumb to unspeakable invasions of their bodies so they would be rid of a lifetime of living reminders of their abuse." Her voice drops to a reverent whisper as she reaches the end of her sentence.

"Others were in a situation similar to yours but with much less at stake, they chose to flee regardless. No matter the situation, I helped them all. And although it has been decades since those times, your struggle reminded me I still have a moral obligation to uphold." She finishes with a pained smile. 

There are countless people under the Imperium of the God Emperor, as abundant as the grains of sand or stars in the sky. One less life in the world would make little or no difference at all. But to say or think one thing and to actually do it are completely different concepts. And you cannot bring yourself to do what the Matron spoke of. 

Zoahra speaks up while you ponder Icara's words. "Well, I am not sure if you remember but you helped me so much when I first came to be conscripted. And over the years I've come to see you as a dear friend. Perhaps... My dearest one." She states bashfully 

“And there's no chance I'll let you suffer through this alone, at least not if I can help it…” her words trail off as her face flushes red and she quite literally hides behind the fresh linen. 

Overwhelmed with gratitude you give her the warmest hug you can muster “For one such as I, so fallen from grace, it is an assurance to have so faithful a friend. Thank you so much, Zo.” You say as you bury your face in her side swept hair. You squeeze her close, grateful to have someone like her in your corner. “I'm grateful for your steadfast loyalty, even though I have not mirrored the same to you.” You place a hand on the side of her head and leave a kiss on her forehead. Her entire face turns crimson as she jerks back and touches her hand to where you planted it. “Wha- you! I-!!!” She stutters as she tries to find her composure “I-it's not like you wouldn't do the same for me!” 

Her bashful demeanor makes you smile and the Matron lets out a hearty laugh behind you. In days of relative anxiety, the jovial mood is a welcome one and it gives you hope for the long journey ahead of you. 

The coming weeks are filled with further preparation for your departure. Icara has asked a few other serfs whom she trusts to aid with the plan. She begins to  detail her plan for you. Schedules and movements are practiced with everyone over and over, all under the guise of emergency drills or supply runs so that the ever watchful eyes of the servo-skulls and the chaplains are avoided. Until finally, everyone is comfortable in their roles and timing and the day of your escape is at hand.

That night, you make your escape, donning an unassuming merchant garb and a cloak to attract less attention. Clutching a satchel of emergency supplies you begin your path, your heart stirs in your chest while you navigate the fortress’ dimly lit corridors. Thanks to Icara’s foresight, all who would be patrolling are well distracted or removed from the usual patrol routes.

You slip through the dimly lit corridors, staying close to the stone walls with quiet steps, and appearing as normal when you encounter someone so as to not raise suspicion. You swiftly twist and turn in the halls that are more abandoned as you pray that no one spots you. You grow more excited the closer you get to the main exit, but then notice— a shadow of movement, the steps quiet as a barge mouse but sñthe figure large enough to be...

You pause at the realization. An Astartes. The world goes deafeningly silent and your stomach lurches with a combination of your sensitivity and anxiety. Then the shadow moves again, and your senses sharpen with the sudden adrenaline. You can hear the ceramite dragging on the stone floor as he inches closer. Your eyes dart around as a multitude of questions arise. Here? Now?  Why? He shouldn’t be here. You and the others checked and double-checked, consistently and obsessively, so no one should be here. So why,  why? 

You don’t have time to ponder long as the weight of the steps continue their pursuit of you. But as you try to shake him it dawns on you; he’s been following you. He knew you were there from the beginning, before you could even think to run or hide.

The corridor suddenly shrinks around you and you feel a chill as you break out into a cold sweat, but you regain your composure and instead retreat back around the way you came. Darting down a different hallway, keeping note of your location respective to the fortress' exit. Maybe you can get around him and avoid being caught completely. “Don’t panic, don't panic, if you act as if  you’re doing nothing wrong you’ll be fine, just keep going, keep going.” You think to yourself like a mantra to keep yourself grounded and focused.

Your stomach twists, threatening to fold you over and slow you down. But you can’t let yourself get caught — not now, not after coming so close. You clutch your abdomen as you calmly navigate the corridors until you find something familiar, a symbol on the walls signaling a path to the exit. You let out a quick sigh of relief. You approach the corner and beyond it finally see the massive metal doors that are marked as an egress. 

You’re so close now, but so is the marine you catch a glimpse of — your eyes meeting for a split second as you round the corner. Something in you snaps and you break out into a run, hopeless compared to the speed of an Ultramarine but you’ll be damned if you don’t try. 

Thunk- Thunk- Thunk- Thunk.

The heavy footsteps fall in line, one rapid step after another. The chase is pathetically short lived, you don’t even make it half way down the hall before he’s already upon you. His imposing shadow looms over you and the world slows to a crawl, the once long corridor stretches out into an abysmal length. Like a rabbit in the clutches of a wolf, you freeze. Your hands are chilled as your sweat robs you of warmth. 

There’s silence except for shaky breaths and the loud rushing of blood to your head.

Until a heavy gauntlet hand lands on your shoulder and you jump from the sudden contact.

You hear movement and a sudden whisper in your ear 

“Breathe,” 

You do, but it refuses to come out as anything less than trembling breaths. In an instant all those plans you made, the efforts of everyone involved, have been in vain. Tears of fear and frustration well up in your eyes. But that voice, it almost sounded like

He squeezes your shoulder. It’s not a command, but a gentle urging for you to turn around and face him. And what else can you do? You obey and half heartedly turn to look up at him. You recognize him right away. It’s Lord Lieutenant Demetrian Titus, an officer of the Ultramarine 2nd Company. As a ranked officer his orders were absolute, second only to those above him in rank. From the whispers and gossip you had heard of him, he is a long decorated war hero. Though if you recall correctly he had a recent demotion, why and of what severity was unknown to you. Despite his vague fall from grace, he’s always been a favorite among the serfs for his exemplary kindness and temperance among his fellow Ultramarines. Why someone of such renown was bothering with a lowly serf like you was beyond you though.

The usual stern expression softens with concern when he takes in the clearly troubled look on your face and your still shaky breathing. Yet, his hand remains firm on your shoulder, steadying you.

“Breathe,” he says again, kinder this time. “Explain yourself.”

“P-please my Lord,” you whisper as you turn your gaze to the ground between the both of you. There’s no sense lying or trying to make excuses now. “I cannot remain… I-” Your own words betray you as they get caught in the  lump in your throat.

You feel another gentle squeeze, a soft but urgent reminder to speak. You lift your head back up to him but avoid meeting his eyes by squeezing your eyes shut. A warm, desperate tear streaks down your cheek. 

“I’m with child, Lord Titus.”

Titus slowly moves his head back, as if to show his sudden clarity, his grip on your shoulder lifting but never leaving. “Hrm, but why flee?” His question coming off rhetorical.

You blink, not expecting the question, and the shock suspends your tears momentarily. Titus’ mind races, no doubt, mulling the situation over in his head, trying to find answers in the codes and regulations, and a way through. But he comes up short. After all, it is not often an Ultramarine, especially an officer, is made to deal with such civilian frivolities. Not knowing what to follow up with, he begins asking more questions. “Why not just raise the child here? It would not be the first time.” 

You shake your head, your head still hanging low. “The Ordinator of the House and the Master of the Refectorium I serve under, are both exemplary but quite strict. They say there is no room to bring up unwanted babes. Besides I—.” 

The shame in your next thought stops you as you further explain. 

“As much as the position is honorable, I do not wish to burden my child with the life of a serf. My own parents brought me into this world a serf but that does little to motivate the same fate for mine. My thought was to flee the fortress and raise my baby in the outer city, where it is relatively safe. But… now…”

His gaze hardens as he brings the other hand up and squeezes your shoulders.

“That is… unfortunate” he begins. “However, suppose there was a way to avoid this.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, lifting your head to look up at him, a fragile blend of fear and hope twisting inside of you. “...how?”

“You wouldn’t just run without a good reason especially given the ideology of your serf officers and the mention of your child being unwanted.” 

While he continues you wince at his words, although you yourself never considered your baby undesirable, it hurts to think others would. Or worse, take them from you.

“I suspect the father is not another serf, and it is this that drives you to take such drastic action.”

Meeting his eyes, your face twists in the looming fear of having to relinquish your child  “I am afraid,” you confess quietly, as the stream of tears track down your face once more. “I don’t know what to do. What if he takes the baby from me… what if he makes it so I never see it again— what if he dooms it to a life worse than serfdom!” You place your hands on his forearms in a desperate attempt to explain yourself “I do not want them to take away my baby!” You shake your head vehemently among your cries.

Titus’ hands tighten on your shoulders, effectively focusing you and drawing your attention back to him. “I understand. I do. It is the duty of an Astartes under the God Emperor Himself to protect humanity. That is why, on my honor, I will offer you my protection,” he vows. “Become my personal seneschal and I can shield you. And if need be, I will claim your child as my own.”

You jerk your head back and your face contorts in apprehension at his sudden vow “But— my lord… What of your status? What of your reputation!? Why would you—?” you bring a hand to your chest as you react.

“I have weathered worse blows to my reputation,” Titus replies, a look of fortitude upon his face. He looks down at you. “And this is the right course of action. There is little I could do in this situation, this is what I believe is appropriate.”

The astounded expression remains on your face as you cannot shake the reality of what is happening. 

“Come,” he says, letting go of your shoulders. He gently takes the satchel of supplies from your hands.

But you are frozen still. More so stunned than afraid now. Titus could have easily overtaken your meager strength when you refused to budge but he just looks back when he notices your hesitance. 

You stare at him. A scowl on your face and mouth agape.  “My lord, forgive my impertinence but why are you doing this? Do you not think this to be far beneath your station? It’s not even—”

You look away as you stop yourself from sounding too insolent by telling him it has nothing to do with him. 

“It’s nothing to do with one such as yourself. My lord.” 

He is silent for a moment too long until finally “Do not concern yourself with such things.” he says with a low timbre in his voice. 

He extends a firm hand to you.

You glance at his hand and back at him. Your expression falls seriously.

He sighs, perhaps out of slight exasperation.

“Come. There is a room near my quarters you may utilize, and once you’ve gathered your thoughts we can discuss this further.”

You hold his gaze but take his hand and begrudgingly accept his help

It is either this or losing your child to its unknown father. The former, although bizarre, seems a lot more… manageable at the very least.

“Thank you. Lord Titus.” you murmur, following him as he leads you deeper back into the fortress. With each step, you feel the heavy weight of fear and uncertain lift and for the first time in weeks, you breathe.

[maybefalsefacts]

This was supposed to be for poolverine week....

MDNI/NSFW (Not that I didn't write this at work but 🤷)

T4T (kinda) Omega!Logan/Trans!Wade (based on the idea that 'Worst' Logan's world is A/B/O but Wade's isn't)

1.2K words, On AO3 here

Logan woke up feeling... wrong.

Unfortunately, it was an all too familiar sort of wrong. The kind of wrong that he always dreaded and looked forward to not at all.

He was sweaty and achy and the lights were too bright and-

And a hand ran through his hair, pausing to scritch at the sweet spot right behind his ear. And oh did that feel good.

A deep, rumbling purr started up in Logan's chest and he turned to nuzzle into the hand on impulse.

A soft chuckle came from somewhere above him.

Forcing his eyes open, Logan almost expected to see Scott there, giving him that knowing smile. Almost expected to hear his voice teasing and cooing. Logan's heat was the only time the man could get away with it without being stabbed.

Surprisingly, he wasn't at all disappointed to find Wade there instead.

Wade's smile was different, soft and concerned, understanding in a way that Scott's had never been.

"Hey, Big Guy. How are you feeling?"

Wade's hand did another pass through his hair, and Logan leaned into the touch. He wanted more.

Rolling over, he draped himself over Wade's lap, and wrapped his arms securely around the man's middle.

Wade chuckled and continued to pet through his hair; the other hand even coming up to rub over his shoulder and back.

Logan's purr grew louder as he nuzzled into Wade's middle.

"That bad, huh?"

Logan couldn't help the soft whine that slipped free when he went to respond.

But Wade, for once, didn't tease him for it. Recognizing that Logan had already gone nonverbal—like he did sometimes when he slipped into puppy-space—, Wade just gave a soft, "Don't worry, Baby. I've got you."

Wade didn't smell like Alpha, but that was okay. Logan had spent plenty of heats without an Alpha around. Hell, out of the past 200 years, he had spent the majority of them completely alone.

Wade might not have been what his body said he needed, but Wade was what his heart wanted.

Safe

Comfortable

Seen

And Wade knew that. He knew what it meant. How it felt. Why it was so confusing.

Wade understood him in a way no one else ever had.

And that, more than anything, was what Logan really needed.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Logan started squirming.

Wade rolled Logan over, and leaned down to murmur into his hair, "Do you want some help there, Big Guy?"

While this may have been a typical Wade Wilson line, he said it with such genuine love and concern that Logan wanted to cry. Instead, he settled for turning to nuzzle into Wade's neck with a nod.

Wade smiled and paused a moment so that Logan could get a proper whif. Then he slowly shifted around.

As quickly and gently as he could, Wade stripped Logan of his boxers and pulled his knees apart.

Wade didn't have to be an alpha to smell the pheromones wafting from his poor lover. His thighs were coated in slick; his dick throbbing; his labia begging for attention.

Mourning the fact that he couldn't sit back and enjoy the view, Wade hurried to settle between Logan's legs and lean over him.

Chest to chest, bracing himself on a forearm, Wade let some of his weight rest as Logan's arms came up to hold him fast.

Bringing one hand up to brush Logan's hair back. "You okay, Sweetheart?"

Looking up at him with big puppy eyes, Logan nodded and rocked his hips up into Wade's with a whine.

Wade bit off a groan and reached down. Gathering up some of the excess slick, he covered his dick and lined up. Then, slowly but surely, he pushed in.

With a gasp and a long groan of appreciation, Logan gratefully rocked into the sensation.

Smiling, Wade leaned down to kiss his forehead while adding the last few centimeters.

"Do you want it, Baby?"

Logan nodded frantically and started rocking.

"Shit" Wade braced himself and fumbled to match Logan's pace. "Alright, Baby. You wanna be a good boy? You wanna take my knot?"

Logan nodded and whined and, not for the first time, Wade sent a silent thank you to the inventor of knotted dildos. He was also grateful that he had managed to get ready before Logan had woken up.

Judging by the moans and whimpers Logan was giving him, his poor pup wouldn't have fared well if Wade'd had to leave him to strap up.

And so, it wasn't long before, Wade grabbed the little remote from the pillow and turned the dildo on.

Now, while the two of them had discussed and prepped for this day, Wade had not let Logan in on this special present.

It was totally worth it to see the realization light in Logan's heat clouded eyes. To hear the moan of want from deep in his chest. To feel the way his hip rocked faster and his nails dug in deeper. The way his heartbeat picked up under Wade's

Wade's knot had started swelling.

Picking up his pace to match, Wade leaned down to kiss along Logan's collar bone. "You like that, baby? You feel your big strong alpha swelling up for you?"

Logan started panting, leaning his head to expose his scent glands.

"You want your alpha to fill you up? Knot you? Breed you? Fill you full of pups?"

Legs shaking, Logan hooked his heels behind Wade's things, urging him harder. Faster. A not-so-silent plea.

"Are you ready for it, Baby Boy? Are you gonna be my good little omega and take your alpha's knot?"

Logan sobbed and nodded desperately.

"Look at me, Lo. Let me see those beautiful eyes of yours."

With the knot finally close to full, Wade pushed it in, loving the way Logan's eyes widened as he gasped and came hard.

Then Wade leaned in and bit down hard on Logan's scent glands.

Had Wade been anyone else, had he not been braced for it, had Logan not been clinging to him for dear life, Wade just might have been thrown off as Logan bucked and jerked and shuddered. For an endless minute, Wade stayed there, reveling in every move and sound and the way Logan's blood filled his mouth.

Then, when they'd mostly died away, he gently unlatched his jaw. The wound closed quickly, but Wade carefully lapped at the mark as if it hadn't. He kissed and nuzzled and 'scented' the way he knew Logan liked.

After a few minutes, Wade braced back on one arm to lean up a bit. Logan's hold tightened instantly, afraid Wade was going to leave.

But Wade just smiled down at him. Brushed his hair back. Kissed his temple, his cheeks, his lips.

And Logan relaxed back into him, as much a boneless puddle as adamantium and muscle could get.

Wade watched as his love sighed and dropped off into sleep. The knot would take a while to go down and he knew Logan liked to be laid on after sex. So, Wade continued to pet through Logan's hair for awhile, just enjoying the soft look on his face.

He was glad for the opportunity to give the other man even this small modicum of peace. Wade might not have been an alpha, but a deep satisfaction flowed through at being able to satisfy Logan's needs.

The man had done so much for him, and, if Wade could give even a modicum of that back, maybe he could be at least an okay substitute for a mate.

[quillsandtypos]

The Light of Laughter

Words: 7.7 k

Pairings: none, this is a platonic/familial fic

Characters: Lee!Peter, Ler!Tony, Ler!Bucky, Lee!Wanda, Ler!Steve,

Warnings: a lot of tickling and some older brother/mentor tickling so if that’s not your thing please feel free to sit this one out

Author’s note: This is a squealing Santa fic for the lovely @inneedofsupervision I’m so sorry your gift is late but I hope I make up for the wait. I also wanted to give a massive thanks to @squealing-santa for running this event and for graciously helping me with the deadline.

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

The bell rang, sending chairs scuffing across the floor as students pushed their way out of the classroom. Kids pushed past him, knocking shoulders with him in the chaos as Peter waded to the back of the room.

“You don’t have to wait for me, ya know?” Ned said, roughly shoving his stuff in his folders.

Peter’s brows furrowed. He took one look at the mess on Ned’s desk and started helping him pack his things up. “Yes, I do. I’m the reason we got separated in this class, and we always walk out together.”

Ned brushed off his help, but continued shoving things away. “Aww thanks Peter.” He picked up a notebook paper that had floated down to the floor somehow. “You'd make such a good girlfriend,” he said, then frozen with the paper still between his fingers.

Peter gently pried it from his hands, sliding it into his backpack, sensing that all of the tests were starting to get to him. “Was that what you meant to say?”

Ned finally dethawed, going back to the task at hand. “We’re not acknowledging it.”

Peter chortled, fighting back a comment about the blush on his face. “Yes we are.”

Ned pointed a finger at him. “Not if you still want your christmas present.”

Peter mimicked zipping his lips, not wanting to risk losing his gift. He didn’t have to use his spidey senses to guess what it was. Ned had been dropping quote unquote hints to him about his present all week, and Peter had figured out it was legos by Wednesday.

He filed the last of Ned’s papers away, which was less of putting papers in folders, and mostly a lot of shoving. Peter didn’t even know how he managed to collect this many papers in the first place.

“You aren’t going to be able to find any of your papers when we come back from break,” Peter remarked, picking up a broken folder that was nearly split in half with all the papers inside of it.

Ned shrugged. “I’ll just throw out anything I don’t need when January comes.”

“Then get a new folder for the semester so you can break it by summer?” Peter asked, fighting back a grin. He knew he was pushing his luck with his christmas gift on the line, but Peter had a gift for him as well, and he wasn’t afraid to bargain his way back into Ned’s good graces.

“Exactly,” Ned nodded. “See, I’m glad you get it.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“By Mr. Smith!” Peter called, waving to his teacher as they walked out the door.

“Bye boys, stay safe over break. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He said, closing the door on them on their way out.

The hallways were a mess of hustle and bustle, everyone eager to escape the building as fast as possible. With the thought of finals erased from their minds, and their warm beds waiting for them at home to catch up on some overdue sleep, no one was wasting another minute in that dreadful building.

Peter tapped the top of the frame as Ned and him pushed through the doors, letting the cold New York winter air blow into the hallways, sending Christmas lights fluttering in the breeze.

“My gift?” Peter asked, once they were outside and away from the entrance.

“I want mine first,” Ned said.

Peter cocked his head at him, a coy smile playing at his lips. “How’d you know I bought you one?”

Ned deadpanned. “Oh come on Peter, we do the same thing every year. We give each other gifts on the last day of school before break.”

Peter dropped the act. “Fine.”

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small box covered messily in red candy cane wrapping. As he handed it to Ned he realized he’d missed a spot, and he hoped he didn’t notice.

Luckily, Ned tore it open as fast as he always did, barely noticing the wrapping before he immediately threw it away.

“Do you know what it is?” Peter asked, as Ned continued staring at it without saying anything.

Ned’s brows furrowed. “I don’t think so.”

Peter tapped on the clear box. “It’s a Palladium core I encased in resin.”

Ned’s eyes went wide. “No, it’s not-” he trailed off, but Peter nodded.

“Look at the front of it.”

Ned flipped it around and gasped, holding a hand to his mouth. “You got it signed by him?”

Peter smiled. “Yup. This is one of the ones that was inside him,” Peter stopped, holding up a finger. “Wait, not like that.”

Ned grabbed him by the shoulders. “Who cares! Peter! This is the best gift ever!”

Peter grinned even wider as his friend shook him rather aggressively, the zippers on his backpack clanging with the movement. It really hadn’t been that difficult to come by, Tony had just had to replace his, and when Peter asked about it, Tony had happily complied.

He thought it was a little weird at first, but he had just said, “kids these days” then scoffed and walked off, leaving Peter with the core.

Ned stopped shaking him, a frown overtaking his face. “Aww, but all I got you was legos.”

Peter’s face lit up at the mention. “No, are you kidding me? I’m about to get a bunch of sciency stuff from the avengers, all I want are some legos.”

“Alright, fine,” Ned groaned, handing him a bright gift bag.

Peter took it and ripped all of the tissue paper out of the bag. “Yes!” he cheered. “All I needed was the hulk to complete my set.”

Ned raised a brow. “Do the avengers ever find it weird that you collect lego figurines of them?”

Peter felt his cheeks warm. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never told them.”

“Heard,” Ned nodded.

“Alright, see you in a few days?” Ned asked, bumping his fist against his.

Peter finished the handshake. “Yep, I’ll see you then.”

Usually the two would walk home on the last day, but this year was different. As the snow began to lightly fall over the city, Peter was headed towards the avengers tower for a few days.

Aunt May had won some sort of radio contest back in November to go on a Christmas cruise for five days. She was overjoyed, until she found out she had only been given a ticket for one person. The last thing she wanted to do was leave him alone for Christmas, stating that she would rather work double shifts at the community center for two weeks than ever even think about leaving him by himself in New York. Peter was grateful she didn’t know about his nightly patrols, fearful that she might very well have a heart attack, but he needed to come up with some way to convince her to go anyway. Peter knew she needed a break, but after almost a month of trying to reassure her he’d be fine, even he was starting to run out of ways to convince her.

Peter was ranting about it to Tony one day in the lab, and he’d offered him up a solution on a silver platter.

Apparently, as long as he was staying with the Earth’s mightiest heroes, May was willing to let him stay in New York without her. He’d still had to assure her a dozen times that he would be fine with her leaving him on christmas, but they’d managed to pull it off. Just before school that day, she’d left for the airport with her bags. She’d placed a kiss on his cheek, told him to have fun, and to text lots of pictures. She added on as she stood in the doorframe, that she wanted him to be good for Tony. Peter fought the urge to laugh, considering it would be more fitting if she told Tony to behave himself.

He’d heard rumors of Tony Stark’s infamous Christmas parties, and had been fighting the urge to ask him if he’d be invited for the last week.

The walk passed by faster than it usually did, his mind buzzing with thoughts of what he could get up to for the next five days. As he approached the tower, he looked up at the full height of it. The A was already accumulating a fair amount of snow on top of it as the gray skies above it seemed to swirl around the building.

Peter heaved in a breath before he rang the doorbell. There would be more heroes in the tower than he was used to for the next few days. Tony was inviting all kinds of people from all corners of the universe for the week. He’d already met so many of his heroes, and now he had the potential to interact with even more.He’d tried to tease it out of Tony, but he’d only held a finger to his lips and told him he’d find out eventually. However, here Peter was, and the day was finally here.

At last, he gathered up the courage to actually ring the bell, and he listened intently to the sound echoing through the first few levels of the tower.

It was always a mystery who would open the door for him at the Avengers tower. More often than not, it was Happy or Pepper, but occasionally he would get one of the other’s.

Today, he was surprised to be met with no one. The door unlocked on its own, and it just swung open, seemingly on a stray breeze. Peter walked in cautiously, his footsteps light, but nothing seemed glaringly wrong except for the mysterious door. He quietly hung his bag on the hanger Tony had drilled into the wall, and began tip toeing into the living room.

He turned the corner, peeking out from behind the door frame when he spotted Wanda, and another woman he didn’t recognize.

“Oh, hi Peter!” Wanda called. “The other’s are upstairs in various places.”

“Oh, thanks for letting me in,” he said, staying a distance away from them. They seemed to be in the middle of something before he walked in, the other person on the couch blushing furiously.

Wanda stood, placing her glass of wine on the table beside her. “Oh, I almost forgot, Spider-man this is Tele, Tele this Spider-man.” Wanda turned back to Tele. “Or I guess I should specify, this is our world's Spider-man. God, that’s going to get difficult when everyone gets here.”

At Wanda’s words, Peter’s memory came flooding back to him. “Ohhh, your Peter three’s friend.”

They nodded. “Well it’s nice to officially meet you, but Tony said I should meet him up in the lab when I get here, so I should probably go.”

“Go,” Wanda waved. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up in the next couple days.”

Peter hoped she was right, he’d been wondering if she’d be in the tower just yet. He had heard she’d been sent on a mission with Tele, Peter three, and Natasha, and he had a lot of questions for her. The occupants of the tower didn’t always notice it, but they had a tendency of telling him things he shouldn’t necessarily know. Not that Peter was complaining, but it was funny how all of their spy training and stoic personalities all softened when they were comfortable around each other.

Peter stepped into one of the elevators and pressed the twelfth floor. It smoothly rode up the line to his floor and when the doors opened, his eyes widened at the winter wonderland in front of him.

It was like he was stepping into santa’s workshop. The billionaire had strung up garland anywhere he could without making it a fire hazard, and there were so many fairy lights strung from the ceiling that the brightness replaced the glow of the regular lab lights.

Peter walked around, taking it all in.

Stockings hung from each large piece of equipment, their names listed on each of them in glitter glue that looked like Morgan had helped. The green and red iron man suit was on display in the middle of the lab, and each of the center poles in the room were wrapped to look like candy canes.

“You like it?” Tony called from the back, his voice echoing a little with all the metal in the room.

Peter spun around, trying to observe all of it in as big of a quantity as he could. “LIke it? I think Santa Claus threw up in here.”

“That better be a compliment Parker, you know I’m not afraid to flip you to the naughty list and take away your presents.” Peter laughed, hearing the teasing in his tone. It was always a challenge when he arrived in the lab to find Tony. Some days he thought the man was purposely making a game of it, but today he found him behind a few monitors with ease.

Peter looked at the screen, leaning over Tony’s desk to look at what he’d been working on. “Funny, you’re not the first person to tell me that today.”

“Well, maybe that means you deserve it,” Tony said, tweaking his ribs.

“Hey!” Peter squeaked, puberty immediately leaving his voice.

“Hey is for horses, what’s it doing in your mouth?” Tony remarked without taking his eyes off of the monitor. Peter backed up, making sure to keep his arms close to his sides.

“What’d you call me up for? What are we working on today?” he asked eagerly.

Tony spun around towards him, looking up at him. “You, my sticky friend, are not working on anything for the next five days.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter groaned. He could work on so many upgrades with all the time he was going to have in the tower. With no school, and no Aunt May, he had nothing stopping him.

Tony held his hands up. “No, I don’t want to hear a whining. I signed on to house a sixteen year old for a few days, not a five year old.”

Peter wanted to say that he was not acting like a five year old, but he feared that would only prove Tony’s point. However, he had never had such an ideal time to work, and he couldn’t give up on the idea that easily. “But I have so many new ideas for my suit.”

“Nope,” Tony said, dramatically popping the ‘p’. “You, my friend, are going to take a few days off, and so am I. There are people being put in place to keep an eye here on earth, and none of those people are you and me.”

“What was the point in decorating the lab then?” Peter asked.

Tony looked at him like the answer to his question was quite obvious, and Peter was reminded of how truly dramatic his mentor was.

Tony patted his back, getting to his feet. “Consider it me paying you back for that time I let you go to space.”

Peter furrowed his brows. “But you didn’t let me? I went without asking.”

Tony slowly turned to him. He stared at Peter for a moment before he started rapidly jabbing his hands into Peter’s midsection wherever he could manage. “Is this really a point you’d like to be arguing five days before Christmas, Parker?”

Peter boyishly giggled as he jumped out of the way. He should’ve known better than to nitpick Tony when he was telling a story. “Noho!”

Tony only followed the teenager, wrapping an arm around him and fluttering his fingers on his neck. “Are you sure?” he teased.

“Yes,” Peter laughed. He lightly pushed him away, taking care to not use too much of his strength considering Tony didn’t even have a suit on.

“Alright, spiderling, I believe you for now. So, are we clear about the rules with lab time?”

Peter couldn’t hide his disappointment, but he shook his head in agreement. “Yes, Mr. Stark.”

“Okay, just a couple other ground rules, and then I’ll let you go.” He clapped his hands together. “We just discussed number one, so you already know no lab time for the next five days, I want you to have some time off. Rule number two, no patrols either, it goes under the time off clause.” Peter groaned, but Tony continued on.

“Rule number three, you have to help Morgan, Pepper, and I wrap gifts because I bought too many gifts for everyone. Rule number four, you need to send your Aunt May an update at least once a day-” Peter started to protest, but Tony held a hand up.

“Ah-ah those are the rules I agreed to for taking you on. If you don’t follow them your Aunt will have my head and yours.”

Peter held his hands up. “I was gonna say that it shouldn’t be a problem because I've already texted her twice today, but okay.”

“Sure you were,” Tony chortled.

“I was!” Peter scoffed.

Tony pushed his reading glasses up on his head. “Well aren’t you nyc’s little golden boy.”

Peter paused, uncertain what to do with the comment. Luckily, Tony moved on from most things pretty quickly.

“Okay, rule number 5, no more calling me Mr. Stark. You are quite literally spending Christmas with me, don’t make it weird. Number six, no shenanigans?”

Peter cocked a brow, and Tony shrugged. “What qualifies as a shenanigan?”

He pointed a finger at him. “Don’t play dumb with me kid.”

Peter gawked at him. “I’m not, what does that mean?”

“Well I don’t want to give you an example, that’ll just give you ideas.”

Peter threw his hands up, and Tony’s facade cracked a little, no longer able to bite down on his smile. “I’m messing with you web slinger, you know I support mischief.”

He pointed a finger at Peter. “Just don’t tell Loki I said that.”

“You have my word, Mr. Stark.”

Tony glared at him and Peter took a preemptive step back. “Sorry, Tony. It’ll take a little getting used to.”

Tony began walking out of the lab, and Peter followed. When Tony came to a sudden stop, so did Peter. “Oh, also, you can come to the Christmas party, but you can’t drink.”

“Oh, come on,” Peter protested.

Tony sighed. “Alright, fine, you can have a singular drink.” Peter began uttering his thanks, and telling him about how responsible he will be, but Tony shushed him. “We’ll pretend we’re in Europe to ease my conscience. You have to promise me you won’t tell your aunt though.”

“I promise,” he agreed, eyes shining. He honestly hadn’t expected to be invited to the christmas party, let alone allowed to drink, and he wouldn’t do anything to make Tony regret it.

“Alright, good,” Tony patted him on the back. “Now be a proper teenager and go bother people or hide in your room, your pick.”

Peter laughed good naturedly, knowing Tony didn’t truly mean it. Or at least, he was fairly sure.

Tony snapped his fingers. “Oh, also if you could bother resident broody and the star spangled banner, that would be the best present you could give me. Truly priceless.”

Peter smiled, heading up the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. “I think I can manage that.”

Tony gave him a thumbs up and they went their separate ways. Peter was surprised he hadn’t received a lecture on gift giving, specifically, on how he should have a lack of it. Last year he had gotten Tony a singular gift for the holidays, just a simple frame of the photo of the two of them, and Tony had given him a gift for ten weeks straight to prove a point. Apparently, billionaires didn’t appreciate teenagers with limited funds using their money on them.

Peter unlocked the door to his room, and jumped on top of his soft duvet. His body went limp, the mattress soaking up every bit of his exhaustion. He sighed contentedly, his eyes fluttering shut. He would just lay here for a little bit, and then he would wander around the tower and visit with everyone else.

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

Peter woke up bleary eyed and still in his clothes from the day before. He rolled, trying to find where his clock was, and realized there was no more bed underneath him. His stomach lurched as his hands scrambled for purchase. He grabbed his sheets, which slowed his fall. He sighed in relief, still half delirious. He stayed there for a second, still trying to figure out what had happened when the sheets lost their hold.

He landed with a thunk and groaned in pain. Apparently, his spidey senses weren’t awake either. He wiped at his eyes, trying to make sense of everything.

He looked up at the clock on his nightstand and had to rub his eyes and read it again to make sure he was seeing correctly. Peter had woken up at nine am the next day.

He wrestled himself out of his sheets and threw them back on the bed. He cursed his teenage body mixed with a spider bite for needing so much sleep. He had probably already missed so many new arrivals while he was sleeping.

As he pulled out some clothes from his dresser, he realized there were decorations all over his room too. He must not have noticed it when he’d walked in yesterday, but someone had done up his room as well. Garland hung from each of his furniture pieces like icicles from the edge of a house, his rug had been changed out to a fluffy red and green one, and he even had some festive attire that someone had thrown in with the rest of his regular clothes.

He opted to forgo the red and green in terms of clothing for the time being. He was already likely going to be the youngest in every room, and he didn’t need everyone looking at him like a child because he was wearing an elf onesie. Besides, that would only bring more attention to him while he was trying to learn about all of the new people.

He quickly showered and threw on his clothes, absentmindedly pushed his hair back and headed out the door.

He ran down the steps at full speed towards the kitchen as his stomach growled. He couldn’t believe he’d slept so late, he’d make sure to set an alarm tomorrow. It was so stupid of him to sleep for so long.

A door clicked open in front of him, and he stopped just a few inches from where his nose would’ve collided with it.

“Little spider,” Natasha laughed, seeing him as the door shut. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

She continued walking, so Peter followed. “I accidentally fell asleep yesterday afternoon when I got home from school, and I just woke up.”

“Oh trust me, you didn’t miss much.” Natasha waved a hand. “The only person in the tower who doesn’t live here went to bed early, Steve and Bucky went on our last grocery trip till after the holidays, and Wanda made a few pie crusts.”

“I know, but-” Peter started, then stopped himself. Natasha had said he didn’t miss much, but she had been a part of this family for longer than he had. He had never spent a Christmas with the Avengers before, and it all felt so new and exciting to him. This was all old business to Natasha, she’d probably find him quite silly.

“What?” she asked, slowing down.

Peter stopped at the next landing to face her. “No, it’s probably dumb. Nevermind.”

“I’m sure it’s not dumb, come on, tell me. Or if it is dumb, then I will forget I heard anything.”

Peter’s lips twitched. “It’s just.” He sighed, but then decided he’d go for it anyway. “I’ve never been here during the holidays, and I just don’t want to miss any of it. I want to soak it all up, ya know?”

He scratched at the top of his head, but then abruptly put his hand back down, thinking the movement looked weird.

Natasha leaned against the stair railing. “Peter,” she smiled. “I was once new to this team too. I know the feeling of wanting to soak up every moment with this family. But trust me, they aren’t going anywhere, and neither are you.”

Peter smacked himself in the forehead. It had only occurred to him till after Natasha said it but it seemed obvious now. He should’ve known that she would understand. It was so silly of him to think he was the only one who had ever felt like this. Still, he knew Natasha wouldn’t take well to him opening the holiday with apologizing to her, so he moved on. “I know that, it just doesn’t feel like it.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “And that’s okay too. It took me a long time to get used to it.” She laughed. “Sometimes I think I’m still getting used to it. But remember, this is a marathon, not a sprint. You’re here for five whole days, don’t run yourself ragged trying to do everything.”

Peter blew a breath out, feeling a little less high strung. “Thanks Natasha.”

She squeezed his arm. “Anytime little spider.”

“Does that mean I can call you big spider?” Peter asked, now following her down the stairs.

She shook her head, chuckling. “I guess so. Just don’t ever say it in front of Clint, or I may have to kill you.”

“Noted.” Peter nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t certain he would ever be brave enough to call her that to her face, but he saved it away just in case he needed it.

He entered the kitchen, counting four bodies occupying the space, and all sorts of delicious smells wafting around the area.

Natasha leaned in beside him, whispering. “Like I said, pace yourself.”

She walked off, continuing down the steps, and leaving Peter in the chaos. He stood completely still for a moment, unsure of what to do. It almost seemed like they were doing some sort of dance. Pots and pans flew above heads, spoons were passed back and forth, footsteps were carefully made around each other like they had choreographed it all in advance. Peter was worried that if he stepped in, he might throw them off rhythm.

His stomach growled angrily, reminding him that while his bite also made him able to sleep longer, it also meant he needed to eat much more.

“Guys, can I cut into the kitchen to get breakfast?” Peter yelled over simmering liquids and frying meats.

Wanda was the first to turn towards him. “Oh, morning Peter. Can I grab something for you?” She looked at the chaos surrounding her with wide eyes. “I think that would be easier at this point.”

“Yes please, if you could hand me the poptarts, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Oh, do try the new chocolate flavored ones we got spiderling,” Thor said, turning around, whisk in hand. “They are quite delicious.”

“Yeah, I’ll have those if we’ve got ‘em.” Peter nodded. “Please,” he added on quickly.

Wanda flicked her fingers, and the pop tart box flew out of the cabinet. Peter was about to ask how she managed to direct her power so casually without hitting anyone, but then he realized the box was already in his hand.

“Hey, wait, we don’t just hand out food for free,” Bucky scoffed. “I thought we agreed the kitchen was a no touch zone when there were chefs in it.”

“Bucky, you’re making brownies. Calm down, you aren’t cooking up world peace,” Sam called out from the other side of the kitchen.

Bucky pointed a dirty spatula at him with such aggression that Peter let out a laugh. “That’s what you think, but for all you know, the moment you taste these all your problems could be cured.”

“Not unless your attitude disappears,” Sam guffawed.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Wanda, are you going to let this happen?”

Wanda looked about near her breaking point. “If by this you mean letting the boy eat his breakfast, then yes I do.”

Bucky groaned, and Peter couldn’t help but wonder who the teenager in the room was. “Can we at least make him help us?”

Wanda leaned against the counter, her hands on her hips. “Peter, I am currently dealing with actual children, so would you mind helping Bucky with the brownies when you’re done eating your breakfast? Steve was supposed to help him, but now none of us know where he’s got to.”

Peter nodded, shoving a poptart in his mouth. “Of course, I don’t mind helping.”

Wanda smiled fondly at him. “Thank you.” She covered the side of her mouth like it would prevent the others from hearing her as she fake whispered. “This is why you’re my favorite.”

The others protested, but she paid them no mind as she went back to her food. Peter took a few more minutes eating his fill in pop tarts until he joined Bucky in the kitchen. The sounds of automatic whisks, squeezing bottles, and bowls clanking against one another filled his ears.

“Alright, have you ever made brownies before?” Bucky asked, quite seriously.

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, who hasn’t? They come in a box.”

Bucky rolled his eyes for the second time in five minutes. “Homemade brownies Peter. Come on, who do you think I am?”

Peter held his hands up innocently. “Wasn’t trying to take away your brownie points.”

Bucky raised a brow. “Was that a pun?”

Peter tensed. “Maybe?”

He could tell Bucky was desperately trying to bite back a smile, and Peter snickered. “Alright, well, homemade brownies are a much more highly involved process.”

“Okay, so what do we need?” Peter asked, pushing his sleeves up to wash his hands.

Bucky listed off the ingredients and Peter rummaged around the kitchen to find them. However, even after five minutes of looking in the fridge, Peter couldn’t find the eggs.

He poked his head out of the fridge. “Guys, I think we’re out of eggs.”

He looked over to see Thor grimacing. “My apologies, between my breakfast this morning, and clarifying the mead, I think I used the last of them.”

Peter brushed him off, now opening the freezer. “That’s fine, we can just use applesauce.”

“No, we cannot!” Bucky protested. “It calls for eggs.”

Sam leaned around Wanda to look at them. “Barnes, have you never heard of a substitute?”

“No, you have to do the recipe exactly as it says, otherwise it won’t turn out.”

Wanda made cuckoo signs around his head, and Bucky whipped around. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Wanda chirped, going back to whisking. She shot a wink at Peter and it took nearly all of his laughter to not burst out laughing.

Bucky threw his hands up. “What? I’m serious, you should never substitute things. It won’t turn out the same.”

Peter cocked a brow. “Didn’t you grow up during the depression?”

“Are you calling me old?” Bucky asked, his voice lilting.

Peter’s eyes went wide. “No! I mean, wouldn’t it have been common for you to have to substitute things?”

“Yes, which is why it’s not good!” Bucky nearly yelled.

Wanda stirred her soup. “My family had to substitute things all the time, and we were fine.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “And you’re telling me all of them tasted the same?”

Wanda nodded patiently. “Yes, you just have to know what you’re doing.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “Are you saying I don’t know what I’m doing?”

Wanda shrugged. “I mean, you didn’t even know that you should substitute applesauce for eggs. That’s pretty obvious, wouldn’t you agree Peter?”

Peter nodded, knowing better than to be on the opposing team of Wanda, and Tony’s earlier words playing in his mind. Bucky flicked him in the arm. “Ow,” Peter winced.

Wanda continued adding things to her soup as she spoke to Bucky. “It seems to me that this is more of a skill issue.”

Bucky sighed. “Wanda,” he said, his tone warning. Peter kept his eyes on both of them, sensing the rising tension and wondering where it would go.

“What?” she asked innocently, her eyes widened. “I think you might just be bad at baking, it’s alright, not everyone can be good at it.”

“Maximoff, I swear,” he started.

“Barnes, don’t swear in front of the kid!” she gasped, her eyes lighting up with mischief.

“Yeah!” Peter agreed indignantly.

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “He’s sixteen, he curses all the time.”

Wanda propped a hand up on her hip. “Peter, cover your ears, don’t listen to the man with the potty mouth.”

Peter followed her lead, putting his hands up on his head. “Yeah, Bucky, how dare you accuse me of such things!”

Bucky looked done with both of them. “Peter, you say shit about seventy times every time you’re in the lab.”

“How dare you! Peter would never do that!” Wanda said, looking like she was about to burst with how much laughter she was holding back.

“You know what Maximoff?” he said, his lip twitching.

She took a step closer. “What?” she asked, raising her brows. Peter backed up, having the innate sensation that one of them was going to snap and it wasn’t going to go well.

They were both perfectly still for a moment, and then Bucky struck. He grabbed her by the stomach with his metal arm, too quick for her to use her magic against him, and began scratching at her sides.

“Bucky,” she squealed, her legs kicking out at him and continually missing.

Peter did his best to fade into the shadows, suddenly forgetting his alliance. He knew how quickly the tables could turn, and how ruthless Bucky could be. Wanda hit out at his metal arm, her magic getting lost in between her laughter. “Are you going to stop giving me a hard time?” he asked.

“Nohoho,” she giggled, twitching all over the place as his fingers darted across her skin.

“Peter!” Wanda yelped. “Help me!”

Peter hesitated for a moment, but decided it would be in his best interest to keep the scarlet witch on his side.

With a quiet, “thwip!”, he webbed Bucky’s metal arm, pulling it behind his back to give Wanda an escape.

She fell to the floor in a heap of laughter, and Bucky let her go, not bothering to continue torturing her.

Peter was surprised he didn’t put up more of a fight, until he realized Bucky was slowly turning towards him.

“Wait,” Peter said, holding his hands in front of him. He had just poked a sleeping bear.

“Did you just web me?” Bucky asked, watching Peter out of the corner of his eye.

Peter could feel Thor behind him, and Sam watching the whole thing in interest now. All of his senses were suddenly alert, like he was about to go into battle. What all of his systems were currently telling him was that he needed to run, and quickly.

Without answering Bucky’s question, he leapt over the kitchen counter, sprinting towards the steps.

“Oh no you don’t, you pest,” he heard Bucky call after him.

Peter ran full force through the living room, thinking that if he could just make it to the steps and get the door shut behind him, then maybe he could make his escape.

He was a few steps away, just only a few more seconds and he would be free. His hand reached for the door, and he pushed it open. He got a foot in the door when a familiar cold arm wrapped around his middle.

“No!” Peter yelled, grabbing a hold of the door frame. He attempted to pull himself forward, but Bucky merely spidered his fingers in Peter’s armpits and he immediately lost his grip, his arms shooting down to protect himself.

Bucky threw him over his shoulder with an ease that Peter wasn’t used to.

“That’s not fair,” he protested. He tried to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms, but there was no give.

“No, what’s not fair is that you all get to act like little shits, and annoy me without any repercussions,” Bucky said, walking towards the couch.

Peter began to panic, squirming around like a bug caught in a web. He knew the moment that Bucky had him pinned he was done for.

“Bucky! Wait! We promise we won’t bother you anymore!” Peter said as a last ditch effort.

“You promise?” Bucky asked, standing directly over the couch.

“Promise.” Peter said, earnestly.

Bucky paused, beginning to set Peter down. Peter blew out a sigh of relief, then, Bucky reversed his direction and threw Peter forward onto the couch. “Too bad, I want my fun now.”

He jumped on top of him, pinning his arms above his head, and sitting on his thighs.

“Bucky, Bucky, wait!”” Peter called, nervous giggles already leaking out of him.

“Wait for what?” Bucky asked, his metal arm hovering over Peter’s stomach.

“Wanda, hELP!” Peter squealed, but was cut off as Bucky’s hand began fluttering everywhere he could reach.

“Just because you can’t bake, doesn’t mean you need to take it out on the rest of us!” Peter giggled.

“You know, I was going to take it easy on you since you just finished finals, but nevermind,” Bucky huffed. He began squeezing Peter’s ribs, softly brushing his thumb into each one.

“I take it back!” Peter wheezed, descending into frenzied cackles. It was a cruel move, targeting his ribs like that. It always sent Peter reeling, his body not knowing what to do with all of the sensations his skin was taking in, and Bucky was especially good at making him shriek.

“Oh, do you now?” Bucky teased, a terrifying smirk on his face.

“Yes!” Peter tugged at his arms in vain. It was no use, with Bucky at his full strength, and Peter weakened by his laughter, he couldn’t overpower him very easily. Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

“Wanda save me!” he yelled, deciding it was in his best interest to rely on someone else’s power.

Peter faintly heard the sound of a door clicking open and prayed it was Tony. He also had a tendency of tickling him, but at least maybe he would accidentally distract Bucky long enough that he could escape.

To his horror though, the worst possible person had shown up. “What’d he do this time, Buck?” Steve asked, sounding unsurprised.

“Be a little shit like usual,” Bucky shrugged.

Steve came out of his peripheral vision, and walked in front of him, briefly wiggling his fingers over his socked feet. “STEVE!” Peter yelled, kicking out as much as he could with Bucky’s weight on his legs.

“Wow, I always forget how ticklish you are,” Steve tutted, removing his hand.

“Not helping!”

Bucky tasered his sides with his fingers. “He’s not trying to, he’s on my side unlike you other assholes.”

“Wanda!” Peter tried again, sensing the team up that was about to happen.

Bucky looked up at Steve, not stopping his attack on Peter while he did. “Oh yeah, Steve, would you mind going to deal with the red head over there?”

“What did she do?” Steve asked as if there wasn’t a teenager dying of laughter right beside them.

Bucky gestured down towards him, and Peter’s face lit up red. Something about being destroyed by laughter while they held a casual conversation made the sensations so much worse. “Same as Peter.”

Steve nodded. “Ah, I see.” He began walking towards her, and though Peter knew it would only further nail his coffin shut, he yelled over at her.

“Wanda save yourself!”

Bucky cocked his head, momentarily pausing. “You really don’t give up do you?”

Peter shook his head. “Friendly neighborhood spiderman.” He smiled sheepishly.

Bucky positioned his hands atop Peter’s ribs. “Well spiderman, you are far too ticklish to be this risky.”

Peter shrugged, his eyes alight with mirth. “At least I can bake.”

Bucky deadpanned, his fingers wrapping around the backs of Peter’s ribcage. “Okay, now you’re just asking for it.”

Bucky attacked, and Peter immediately fell back into his laughter. Loud cackles burst from his mouth as Bucky squeezed higher up on his ribs.

“Peter, oh my god, stay still, I’m trying to count all of your ribs.”

“Nohoh!” Peter squealed, having played this game with Tony too many times.

“Well now we’re going to have to start all over again,” Bucky huffed, squeezing each rib from the bottom to the top. Peter was going berserk, having one of his worst spots targeted for so long. He briefly opened his eyes and saw Wanda being thrown on the couch next to him. Steve didn’t give her a chance to escape and went straight for her neck.

He screeched as Bucky reached the tops of his ribs again, praying he wouldn’t start the process all over again. However, it was only when he felt Bucky’s fingers climbing higher still that he began to panic.

“Bucky, don’t you dare!”

Bucky paused for a moment, and Peter heaved in deep breaths while he was still able to. “Oh.” Bucky leaned in, smirking in a way that Peter knew that no amount of pleading would convince him to move anywhere else.

“I dare,” he hissed, then jammed his fingers into Peter’s armpits. Peter didn’t make any noise for a moment. He dug his heels into the couch, trying to find the leverage to throw Bucky off of him, he twisted around from side to side, trying to dislodge Bucky’s fingers. He would almost get adjusted to one side, then Bucky would start tickling his other armpit. However, his body was only able to contain the noise so long, and he burst into a scream.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Peter panickedly squeaked.

Bucky turned towards the other couch. “See, Wanda? I told you he curses.”

Peter could just barely hear her screams of laughter above his own, but he could’ve sworn she told him to shut up.

“Now,” Bucky said, turning his attention back to him. “If we can just manage to convince you I can bake.”

Peter was writhing on the couch, his laughter beginning to make his abdomen hurt. Though, he was admittedly not fighting as hard as he could. “You can’t though!” he yelled out.

“Okay, seriously, does anything tire you out?” Bucky said, momentarily pausing his hands.

Peter shook his head, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. “You’re maybe the only person I know who’s as stubborn as that guy back there,” Bucky teased, pointing to Steve, who was currently making light work of Wanda’s giggles.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Peter smiled, heaving in air.

“It is one,” he smiled. He ruffled Peter’s hair gently, which Peter doubted he’d attempt if he wasn’t currently pinned underneath him. “However,” Bucky started, sitting upright. “Just like him, it’ll get you tickled a lot.”

Bucky released his arms, and Peter’s brows furrowed. He started to sit up, but Bucky had yet to get off of him. Without taking his weight off of him, he adjusted himself so he was still sitting on Peter’s legs, except he was facing the other way.

Suddenly, Peter’s face went white. “Wait, Bucky please no.”

“Can I bake, Parker?” he asked, without looking at him.

Peter sighed, laying back down so he could save some of his energy. “No,” he answered plainly.

“That’s what I thought,” Bucky sighed.

Bucky didn’t make Peter wait any longer for his payback and all ten of his fingers began dusting across his socked soles. Peter was sent into immediate hysterics. He gave up trying to plead with him, but he couldn’t stop his body from rolling around the couch as continual giggles poured from his mouth. Every so often he would snort if Bucky got him with a particularly good method, or if he would stray upwards to his toes, but Bucky continued until Peter got all of the laughter out of him.

However, once the tears started to prick at the corners of his eyes, he let up. “Have you learned anything today?” he asked, getting up and sitting next to him. Peter stayed laying down, catching his breath. He noticed that someone must have lit the fire because he could hear something crackling.

“Not much,” he breathed out.

“I figured.” Bucky patted his knee. “But I’m always happy to teach you again.”

Peter jumped up from the couch, nearly taking his shin out on the coffee table, and Bucky laughed. “Not now, I’m not cruel.”

Peter raised his brows. “Okay, I’m not that cruel,” Bucky deadpanned. Peter glared at him, though he knew he didn’t really mean it.

He sat back down next to him. “You deserve payback for that.”

Bucky bumped his shoulder against him. “I don’t think so, I didn’t start it.”

A red light flashed through the living room. “I would beg to disagree.”

Peter and Bucky turned to see Steve on the ground. “Peter, care to join me?” Wanda asked, grinning.

Bucky attempted to run, but all it took was one flick from Wanda’s wrist and he was on the ground.

“Sam help!” Bucky yelled. Sam started running towards him, but abruptly came to a stop.

Wanda held an orb of dark red power in her hand, eyeing him carefully.

He held his hands up, walking backwards towards the kitchen. “No, thank you.” He grabbed a hold of a bowl. “Someone’s gotta keep stirring your soup.”

Wanda smiled, her nose scrunching up.

“Care to humble some super soldiers for the holidays?” Wanda asked. She twisted her magic and Steve burst into bright giggles.

Peter always knew it was best to keep the scarlet witch on his side. “Absolutely,” he agreed.

The tower was filled with laughter for quite some time, and lots of threats were said with no real violence behind them. When all was said and done, Peter was absolutely certain he was in for a very interesting winter break with his family.

Second author’s note: Hello my lovelies!! I know it’s been awhile since I uploaded on here, three years to be exact, but I had to come back for squealing Santa. Hopefully the fact that I’ve been working on my book has kept my fanfic skills in shape. While I can’t say I’m fully back to posting, I hope you enjoyed this, and I do have some other fics in the works. (Also if you read closely I put in an Easter egg for a future fic)

Taglist: @tenaciousperfectionunknown @teti-menchon0604 @tell-me-when-ur-ready