#i’ll lose whatever self confidence i had left oh my god

[milimeters-morales]

NO OMG I FUCKED UP ANOTHER TOOTH BC OF MY PEPPERMINTS AGAIN

[wolverinesleftclaw]

lowkey need logan talking me thru it 😖

oh my god i know, i imagine him just snapping and fucking the reader like crazy. i just know he’d be so vocal during sex. like all that anger omfg. introducing my love peaches as my lil oc for these requests :)

logan talking you through it +18

you’d always known logan had this deep anger inside of him. he tried his hardest to never let you experience it up close. which was why you decided to make a game of it. do whatever you could to make him so mad that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. you loved playing games, you always found yourself on top when it came to them.

you started small, pulling away from him in affection. logan’s deep fear of losing you left him constantly needing some form of affection from you to remind him that you weren’t going anywhere. this blew up in your face faster than anything else you could do when he came home after a mission with wade and threw you over his shoulder grumbling something like ‘jus need to feel you’

so you went big.

logan had left earlier for another mission. now usually you’d stay home like the good girl you were but you were dedicated to your cause so you decided to wear your shortest dress and tallest heels and went out. shooting a quick text to vanessa asking her to meet you at the bar.

you thought for a moment maybe you should at least text him and tell him you wouldn’t be home when he got back but decided against it. you sure did love self-destructive behavior.

‘hey hot stuff’ the soft voice of vanessa rang in your ears ‘last thing i expected was a text from you’

‘oh you know ness sometimes i like to switch it up’

‘mhm, you do realize wolvies going to lose his mind when he can’t find you’

a small smirk grazed your face as you grabbed her hand leading her into the bar ‘that’s exactly what i want’

‘you nasty little thing, i’m so proud’ she laughed calling that bartender over ‘two gin and tonics please, so what is it you want from him’

‘i want him to fuck me senseless’ you state with a smile, ‘ i mean your telling me that he doesn’t have it in him? he’s like two hundred pounds of solid muscle and anger for once i just want to be thrown around ya know?’

grabbing your drink you bring it to your lips as you look around the bar ‘nothing makes him more mad than other men’

‘well if you want to see him murder someone i say go for it, you’d probably find that hot anyways’ she teased grabbing her phone ‘oh look it’s wade’ she said flashing you her screen

‘you enjoy that, i’ll be mingling’ you laughed wiggling your fingers in goodbye, you quickly found yourself at the end of the bar ordering another drink, swallowing thickly you felt a bad vibe in your stomach maybe this was a bad idea.

‘what’s a pretty lady like you doing here alone’ a dark voice said from behind you.

as soft gasp left your throat as his hand touched your lower back. yup, definitely a bad idea.

‘oh um, waiting for my friend’ you croak out looking over his shoulder eyes darting around the room looking for vanessa.

‘yea and where is she now’ he said looking me up and down ‘you know a girl like you shouldn’t be here’

‘and why’s that?’ you question your grip on your glass tightening when he somehow moves closer than he was before.

‘you should be home waiting for your man to come home and take care of ya, doesn’t that sound nice’ his voice dropping octaves as his grip gets tighter on your hip.

suddenly the room got smaller and the air got thicker. what the hell were you doing? this isn’t you and your moment of confidence ran away the second another man started talking to you. you knew your place, you knew where you belonged and it wasn’t here.

‘normally that’s where she’d be’ the gruff voice of your boyfriend echoed around the room.

letting go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding you loosen your grip on the glass quickly getting off the bar stool and away from the man.

‘lo’ you start grabbing the sleeve of his jacket.

‘don’t’ he barked out, his eyes held an anger you’d never seen before and that scared you.

but wasn’t this what you wanted?

he grabbed your upper arm pulling you out of the bar and towards your car.

‘logan’ you tried again

‘stop talking’ he snarled opening your door and pushing you in before moving to the drivers seat. ‘i leave you alone for one fucking night and you decide to go and be a slut huh’

‘that isn’t what i was doing logan’ you argue back turning in your seat to face him as he pulls the car away from the bar.

‘did i say you could talk?’ he asks you as if it was the dumbest question in the world. your silence making him angrier.

‘did i say you could talk?’ he asks again impatiently his hand tightening around the wheel.

shaking your head no, you subconsciously push your thighs together to create some friction. hoping your boyfriend doesn’t notice the growing wetness in your panties with each word he speaks.

the car ride back to the apartment you shared was filled with silence, the tension growing in your stomach as you watched his jaw set and his hands almost break the wheel. not to mention the heavy breathing he couldn’t seem to get under control.

you knew you were in for it the second the door to the apartment closed and he pushed you roughly against it.

‘this is what you wanted huh bubs?’ he groans out slotting his thigh between your legs pushed perfectly against your heat. ‘could smell you the whole fuckin’ car ride’

‘lo…’ you moan as he attacks your neck, feeling his canines against your carotid as he harshly bites down to shut you up.

‘i’m here wondering if it was me that did this to you or that fuckhead at the bar’ he voiced roughly his hands moving under your thighs to pick you up. ‘hmm?’ he hums cocking his head.

‘you logan, only you’ the breathless words leave your mouth without a second thought. pushing your body forward to kiss him he leaned far away not letting you.

‘i’m in control here darlin’ not you’

holding you close to him he locks his lips with yours. the kiss nothing but messy, filled with teeth, tongue, and spit. he walks you to the bedroom throwing you on the bed hovering over you. your thighs pressed together did little to ease the need in your core. ‘cmon honey gunna let me show you how i’ll ruin any other man for you’

‘mhm’ you moan out when he continues his attack on your body, leaving trails of kisses down your chest stopping at the peak of your breast. ‘please’ you say closing your eyes

you heard it before you felt it. the sounds of his claws tearing your dress apart. very few times had his claws ever made an appearance during sex mostly being out of his control.

his mouth laps at your nipple, sucks, biting as his other hand moves down to your heat. ‘so wet already darlin’ i’ve barely touched you’ he cups his rough calloused hand against your cunt, his middle finger prodding your hole lightly.

squirming under him your rendered silent when he forces two fingers into you, pushing and pulling back and forth you moan out his name like a prayer.

‘cmon use your words’ he smiles down at you ‘feels good doesn’t it’ his head dipping down to meet with your neck again, his breath on your ear as he bites down.

‘just remember your mine’ his gruff voice bounced around my head as his ministrations came harder and faster his thumb meeting my clit in haste. ‘you gunna cum for me peaches’

you felt the familiar tension in your lower stomach, like a band that was waiting to snap. your pussy clenching around his two fingers you throw you head back moaning out waiting for that snap.

only for it to never come. your eyes widen as you lean up on your elbows looking at the seemingly put together man. ‘what the fuck logan’

‘watch it baby’ he counters getting off the bed and removing his clothes ‘you didn’t think i was gonna let you off that easy’

you watch as he walks over to the side of the bed grabbing your leg and pulling you forward. ‘open up hun’ he commands grabbing a fist full of your hair.

you eye his large cock placed in his right hand. god it was beautiful. you could trace every vein with your eyes closed that’s how well acquainted you were. the weight of his member made it band downward instead of bouncing up to his belly.

opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out he eased himself into you. ‘just like that…’ he groaned out, not giving you a second to adjust he picks his pace up. hips thrusting forward at a fast rate, his hand in your hair the only semblance of balance you feel in that moment. ‘you look so pretty like this’

moving your hand down your body you fingers barley touch your clit before his rough hand wraps around your wrists pinning it above you. ‘so fucking impatient’ he groans with one last thrust to your mouth before pulling out completely.

his hand that’s wrapped in your hair pulls your head up so he’s met with your face. ‘why you crying peaches? m’ i being to rough for ya’ he mocks before dropping you on the bed slotting himself between your legs.

he lines himself up with your hole before roughly grabbing your hips and thrusting in. the pace he sets is relentless, borderline inhuman as he stretches you out leaving you a babbling mess of ‘yes baby oh god’

‘fuck peaches your so fuckin’ tight takin’ all of me’ he groans his grip on your hips sure to leave marks. ‘such a little fuckin’ slut for me’

feeling your orgasm climbing to its peak you feel your breath getting heavier and your hands clamping onto to anything and everything to stabilize you.

‘be a good girl and cum for me yea’ he commands his rough grip moving up towards you neck with pressure. just the feeling of him absolutely railing the fuck out of you is enough to make you cum but add in the sudden choking and your a goner.

you cum with a scream slamming your eyes shut and your nails digging into logan’s back. it’s not long before his thrusts slow and his hips stutter does he cum inside of you with moans in your ear.

pulling out of you he lays his back against the bed pulling you close. ‘you love playing games don’t ya peaches’ he laughs out against your head.

[diavolosthots]

Hey dear! I hope that you have a good time! I want to make a request, but please delete it if you don't feel like doing it.

I saved that request in the notes and been waiting for you to open them 😊

For request

First fight with brother (any of your choice) and one of them (I mean MC or that brother) thinks that it's end of relationship (because never had anything serious), but they reconciled in the end. I want some heavy angst with happy ending. MC can be GN if that is OK.

If you don't mind you can do for Mammon, but feel free to choose another one if you don't feel like write for him. Or if that would be better to write as headcanons for all the brothers. That's up to you!

I haven't been doing requests for ages. Please don't hate me if there is something wrong! I've read the rules, and I hope I haven't missed anything.

Anyway, sorry for long ask. And thank you for your writings!

(I forgot to look if you did anything similar, and remembered it at the end of writing that ask. Sorry if you already did something like that!)

Hey babes ❤ I did end up doing HCs for all of them because I thought it would be cooler (or more like I know someone is gonna request separate fics for all of them if I dont and I'm saving myself that trouble lol) I still hope you like it ! ❤ also this got SUPER LONG so its under a cut

Warning: angst -> happy ending-ish

THE BROTHERS in a fight with MC and thinking that they’re over (yikes)

Lucifer:

Everyone always says Lucifer is quick to lose his cool but he’s honestly been nothing but patient with you. He may have hinted at several things he doesn’t condone and he definitely has that ‘look’, you know the disappointed dad look, but he has held back a lot so as to not ruin the beautiful relationship you have with him. Everyone snaps, though, and when he finally did, it was ugly. He did NOT call you names, but oh he didn’t. He went straight for your feelings and pointed out every mistake you ever made for as long as he’s known you. Ouch. In his defense, you weren’t nice either. The argument ended nasty and ‘I hate you’s!’ were definitely thrown around, but none of them were meant, right? Goodness, he doesn’t know. After you left, he threw himself on his bed, literally, and just stared at the ceiling. His anger slowly fled away and he began to feel… guilty. Not necessarily because of the argument itself, but because he delivered some low blows and he knows that. Are you over? Done with him? You haven’t texted or called or talked… you’ve been actively avoiding him and he doesn’t like that, but his pride is such an issue, goodness. He can’t straight up apologize, that dickhead, but he’s sending you flowers and standing in front of your door with a sad face that says it all. 

“Forgive me? I made reservations at your favorite’s? We can talk over a nice dinner?” 

Mammon:

Mammon is known to get mildly agitated over the silliest things, let’s be real. He’s also quick to revert to the “are you dumb?!” argument, which is never effective. But he loves you and he would do anything for you so even if you do do something that he deems ‘dumb’, he usually bites his tongue. Doesn’t mean that doesn’t get on his nerves, though, and he definitely has a short temper, although people tend to overlook that. You just managed to push his buttons today and he used the “are ya stupid?!” argument, to which you obviously defended yourself, and rightfully so. This ended in a massive screaming match and him saying “Then leave! Ain’t nobody keepin’ ya with me!” He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth and you could see his eyes grow wide in shock at his own words, but that didn’t mean you stayed. “MC!” he tried running after you immediately but you were faster and honestly, who can blame you? He fucked up, and he knows it, and he feels terrible about it. Honestly, he’s crying just at the mere thought of you taking his words seriously and he can’t… he can’t bear to lose you, you know? What’s he gonna do? You’re the light of his life, as pathetic as that may sound to some…. So he won’t let you run away. Homie will hunt you down and beg for forgiveness. 

“Please, MC! Forgive me! I’m dumb, not you!!! Don’t leave me…” Don’t leave him. He will continue crying. 

Leviathan:

His constant need to put himself down is frankly, quite annoying. To you anyway. But you put up with it and just reassure him that, at least to you, he’s the most amazing demon that ever existed. It’s just facts. But a person only has so much patience, right? You can’t always spend your days trying to lift him up when all he does is dig himself a bigger hole. Who has the emotional time for that? You sure don’t. “Oh my God, Levi! Shut up! I can’t take it anymore!” Followed by “See! You’re just like everyone else! Leaving me!” and then you slamming the door to his room shut. It’s frustrating and understandably so. It makes you feel awful that you can’t even make your own boyfriend feel good about himself and get at least a little bit of self confidence and it’s so, so, so very draining to have to constantly listen to that. At this point, it’s affecting your own mental health and you just… you just can’t…. But Levi can’t lose you because he knows you’re right. He has to work on himself if he wants to keep someone as amazing as you with him and that’s why he’s crawling back to you now. 

“Look I… I know you’re right… I’m sorry. I promise I’ll … I’ll try. For you.”

Satan:

For being the Avatar of Wrath, you always admired Satan for his ability to keep cool. He prefers the relaxed and easy going life much more than the type of life people expect him to live, and you respect that. That doesn’t mean his constant need to one up Lucifer, through whatever means necessary, didn’t bother the hell out of you, though. You tried talking to him about it once or twice in a calm manner, but you always got the same answer “Pfft.. it’s Lucifer. Who cares?” And it never sat right with you. Just today he decided to pull a prank on the eldest and you had enough, standing in front of Lucifer and letting the bucket of cursed green slime land on you instead, to everyone’s shock. “What are you doing?!” Now that you’re thoroughly green from head to toe, you were also beyond pissed. “What am I doing?! What are YOU doing?!” But Satan matched your anger tenfold, accusing you of favoring Lucifer over him and oh! “You probably got an affair with him, too!” Which was a stupid thing on his part, but it looked like it the way you defended him. Anger doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion you felt running through you and had it not been for Lucifer, you probably would’ve physically fought Satan for such a dumb accusation. Lucifer took you to get cleaned up and lifted the course, giving you your natural skin and hair color back within a few days and plenty of scrubbing, and Satan felt like shit. You’ve always been there for him and, rationally speaking, he didn’t have a reason to doubt your loyalty to him, but he just can’t help but feel insecure beside Lucifer…. He decides to come apologize anyway, a deep blush on his face and guilt in his eyes 

“I’m… sorry for accusing you. It wasn’t my right to speak out of anger and jealousy…” 

Asmodeus:

How can anyone fight with the Avatar of Lust? Seriously, the guy is super easy going and he loves pretty much everyone. Not as much as himself, but almost. You on the other hand… you didn’t. Well you didn’t NOT love him or yourself, but you were just… you. You didn’t spend 4+ hours in the bathroom trying to get ready when you knew you were only going to the kitchen down the stairs. Like?? Although you never brought it up to Asmodeus, he constantly bothered you about skincare and what foods to eat and what not to eat, etc… It’s quite annoying, honestly, and at some point you just gave him a passive aggressive “Okay, whatever. Can we move on now?” To which he didn’t take lightly. He was still nice and sweet, trying to convince you that at least one of these things will make your skin glow brighter than a unicorn’s ass but you just had enough. “Can you stop?! You’re indirectly saying I’m ugly without that shit ton of product in my face and a diet that would make me starve before it helped me! If you want a skinny VS angel that barely holds onto their skeleton, get one!” It was more hurt and frustration speaking than anything, but your outburst still shocked him and he was taken aback for a moment. And then you ignored him for a week straight and as someone who thrives off of attention, especially the kind he gets from you, he can’t handle that! So he showed up in your room in sweats and a tshirt and messy hair and no product on his skin. 

“You’re right… we’re all naturally beautiful…. Wow that… that really hurts to say MC but can you forgive me?” 

Beelzebub:

Oh the sweet, sweet angel. He’s far from innocent and you know that. We all know that. But for this story, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. His reliance on Belphegor is just really… annoying. Belphegor this, Belphegor that. “Belphie used to…” or “Belphie said….” or “one day when Belphie and I….” Like why does everything have to include his twin? It’s so annoying and so rude when your significant other is right here !!! and planning their own future with you, Beel, thanks. It makes you feel less than and like Belphegor will always come before you. It makes you feel like shit, quite frankly, and who is to blame you? “Hey MC did I tell you what Belphie---!” “No! Shut up! I don’t care! It’s always about Belphie! The day you come to me and don’t let that name drip from your tongue is the day Jesus comes back to save me and we both know that will be never! I’m tired of always being stuck with Belphegor! We are not equals!” Granted, you shouldn’t have yelled and Beel was more than confused at your outburst, but you wouldn’t talk to him anymore after that so he left you alone. He thought you may need an hour or two, maybe a day tops, but that day turned into a full week and he even lost his appetite just because he knows you’re angry with him. It’s been a week, does that mean you’re over? His heart aches just at the thought… 

“I’m sorry for bringing Belphie up… I don’t want you to feel less than, MC. You mean a lot to me and so does Belphie, but you’re not Belphie and I need to learn that…”

Belphegor:

Honestly it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost his temper at you yet. Well, he partially blames it on his own laziness because if being angry or getting upset didn’t take so much energy out of him, maybe he would’ve snapped by now lol, but he tries really hard not to because he thinks your relationship with him after everything is pretty good, considering yall kiss and snuggle and fuck on a regular basis. But anyway, that’s exactly the issue. Considering everything, you’re still holding *that* against him. It’s never direct either, which makes it worse. It’s always said in a joking manner and something like “haha look it’s just like that one time you killed me” or “Beel’s grabbing that ham like you grabbed my throat” or “I remember seeing jesus for a moment there” and it agitates him. It makes him so angry, and he finally snapped. “I know I fucked up MC! Stop holding it against me! What do you want? A medal of honor? A survivor's certificate? Maybe a pat on the back for developing some sort of Stockholm syndrome that made you come back to your abuser?!” And then he left. And you may have cried both from confusion and your own anger, he isn’t quite sure. It’s just so…. Aggravating. He can’t deal with it. He knows it was a mistake spurted by his own insecurities and survivor’s guilt which ultimately led to his hatred but please, stop holding it against him.. He can’t keep putting up with it from the person he’s grown to love. He’s the one ignoring you and he won’t budge either because he’s a stubborn ass, but maybe if you come up first… 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you… I’m just so tired for it being held against me… I love you, and you should know that, and I do feel guilty about what happened.” 

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

shelter me from winter’s bite

Everyone’s doing a hypothermia fic so I figured I may as well contribute. It’s one of my favorite tropes.

title taken from Brian Czyzyk’s poem “Hoarfrost” (he’s my favorite young queer poet and you should check him out).

tw: hypothermia, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending

---

“Do you always have to be so damnably loud?” Geralt growls, glaring at Jaskier from across the small room. 

“My apologies for existing,” the bard snaps back. He’d only been rearranging his pack, looking for something reasonably clean to sleep in while his clothes were laundered by the innkeeper’s lovely wife. “I’ll try to do so more quietly from now on, good sir.”

Geralt huffs out a breath in passive-aggressive annoyance and Jaskier bristles. 

“Oh well, then. C’mon witcher, I know you want to say it!”

“Say what?” Geralt asks. His voice is low and threatening. He’s ready to play the game and by god he’s going to win this time.  

“It’s practically your motto at this point,” the bard hisses through his teeth, angry and bitter and tired. Geralt sees victory. Sees some peace and quiet on the horizon. “Say it!”

Geralt does as he’s told, like any good witcher would: “Fuck off, bard.”

“There it is!” Jaskier laughs joylessly, throwing up his hands. He pulls on his doublet and boots and heads for the door. “If you want me gone so badly, Geralt, then I will go. I’ll get out of your lovely white hair and leave you to mope in peace.”

“Fucking finally,” the witcher snarls, turning away. He doesn’t see the genuine hurt in Jaskier’s blue eyes as the bard quietly closes the door rather than slamming it. He doesn’t hear the quiet sob that rips its way out of Jaskier’s throat as he stands very still, shocked and suddenly exhausted all the way to his bones. He doesn’t smell the salt of his bard’s tears as he slips silently down the hallway and out into the late autumn night. He doesn’t notice the snow starting to pile up on the windowsill ahead of season.

He’s too busy being a self-flagellating moron to notice any of that.

---

Geralt is woken in the middle of the night by a commotion downstairs. He can hear several loud, panicked heartbeats and one very quiet, very slow heartbeat beneath all of those; it’s achingly familiar but the half-asleep witcher can’t quite call its source to mind. Geralt listens as the innkeeper barks out a series of sharp orders: “Meredith, you get to the kitchen and make some strong black tea! Florence, fetch a pail of warm water and two or three towels from the laundry. Josiah you lazy lout, get into the attic and fetch some blankets! The poor lad has gone blue all over!”

The witcher peers into the hallway and catches the skinny stable hand, Josiah, racing for the attic staircase. “What’s going on?”

“A farmer from the next town over was on his way over to help a friend’s sow give calf and he found-” the lad pauses to suck in a great gulp of air and launches off again “-and he found that friend of yours lying in a snowbank, muttering nonsense and shivering like a leaf. The poor fool didn’t have a cloak on him or anything, just a doublet and walking boots! He’s near-dead!”

Geralt curses and makes for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reaches the main floor. There are voices coming from the kitchen and he follows them as if in a dream, his feet moving without aid of his conscious mind. “Jaskier? Is it the bard, Jaskier?”

“Are you the great brute what kicked him out?” the innkeeper’s wife asks, crossing her arms over her ample chest and narrowing her eyes. Geralt falters. 

“No, he- he left on his own, in a huff.”

“Wonder who could have started the huff,” the woman rolls her eyes. This isn’t about his status as a witcher, Geralt knows; this eye roll was made by a woman who knows a lovers’ quarrel when she sees one. Except that this stupid little spat might have cost Jaskier his life.

“Where is he? May I see him, goodwife?”

The woman points to a table in the corner, which has been cleared of cooking implements and cushioned with a heavy bearskin. Jaskier lies atop the brown fur, his skin frighteningly pale, his lips and fingers tinted a slight blue. Geralt rushes to his side and takes one of the bard’s stiff hands in his own. He brushes a stray lock of brown hair from Jaskier’s forehead and nearly recoils in shock from the temperature of his skin. Even colder than his hands, which are already dangerously frigid. If Jaskier cannot play his lute-

Geralt doesn’t even allow himself to finish the thought. Instead he works on rubbing small, careful circles onto the back of the bard’s hands with his thumbs, warming the skin in tiny increments: “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

The bard remains unmoving, heartbeat fluttering weakly, lungs barely drawing breath; Geralt fights back an overwhelming sense of panic, trying to recall whatever training he’d received at Kaer Morhen concerning freezing humans. 

“Do you mind if I take him upstairs and tend to him myself?” the witcher asks.

“Can you take care of him?” the innkeeper’s wife replies. 

Geralt bows his head, shame licking like flames up and down his bent spine, and nods. “Yes, Ma’am. I have dry clothes for him in our room and I was trained extensively for emergency situations such as this, all witchers are.”

“Alright,” she narrows her eyes. “But he’d best be alive come morning.”

“I’ll happily turn myself over to the village elders to be dealt with accordingly should the bard come to any harm,” he vows. Her eyes widen minutely and he can read the surprise in her body language, but she remains relatively calm. 

“Any further harm, rather. Alright, then. I’ll have my husband and the girls bring those supplies up to your room for him. We’ll be glad to go back to sleep.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Geralt bows formally. She blushes despite her irritation with him and waves him away. 

“Take your bard and go, witcher, before I change my mind and spend all night caring for him myself out of motherly pity. Go.”

Geralt hefts Jaskier into his arms, heavy bearskin blanket and all, and hurries up the stairs to his room. He will not let Jaskier come to any further harm. Not by his hand. Not by his word. Never again. 

---

Back in their room, Geralt quickly undresses the shivering human, peeling away what few damp layers there are with growing disappointment. Jaskier hadn’t been prepared for a walk in the snow at all! Although, to be fair, it hadn’t seemed that cold earlier in the evening and the snow had been sudden and heavy. 

He wipes Jaskier down with a warm cloth and slips one of his own clean shirts over the bard’s head. He tries not to let his gaze linger on the way Jaskier’s shoulders don’t quite fill out the dark material. Or on the way his dark, wiry chest hair peeks out through the open laces at his throat. The witcher quickly shuffles him into clean smallclothes and wraps him in a thick wool blanket. 

They sit curled before the fire and Geralt holds Jaskier against his chest. He hums with his voice like gravel, grating out one note after the other in some attempt to soothe the bard’s aching body. Jaskier shivers and shakes violently in the witcher’s strong embrace, his eyes clenched shut with the cramps that wrack his frame as his muscles return to their normal temperature. Geralt feels like he’s holding a porcelain doll and keeps his grip deliberately loose, tight enough to comfort but not restrain.

“G-Geralt,” he groans. “Hold me, please.”

The witcher squeezes his arms more confidently around the bard’s middle, burying his face in Jaskier’s soft hair and breathing deeply. The warmth that usually emanates from his busy human body is gone and his chamomile-honey scent is buried beneath a layer of damp cold; it feels wrong. Terribly wrong. Geralt murmurs against his temple, begging the younger man’s forgiveness: “I’m so sorry, Jaskier. Gods, I’m so sorry. Will you ever be able to forgive me? I’m a fool, you know. I’m a fool witcher who never says anything important until it’s too late. I’m so incredibly sorry, my love.”

“This is a very good dream,” the bard sighs, smiling despite the pain. His eyes open, bleary and addled. “Like I was having in the woods, but better.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow and Jaskier seems to understand the unspoken question, even in his current sorry state.

“The real Geralt would never be so gentle with me, dear heart. You must be a dream, sent to me on my deathbed to ease my passage into the afterlife. There’s no other explanation for your sudden displays of tenderness.”

“It’s... It’s really me,” Geralt affirms. He runs his hand up and down the length of Jaskier’s spine, “I’m here, Jaskier. Can you ever forgive me for being so stupid?”

“I forgive you for being stupid ever other day, dear witcher. It is of no consequence to me.”

“It almost was,” Geralt frowns. “I nearly- I almost-” 

Jaskier’s arm raises weakly and his too-chilly hand presses to Geralt’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have stormed off like an idiot. I shouldn’t have kept picking the fight. We both fucked up, alright? What matters is our second chance. We got to have one, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

“Am I wearing your shirt?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Yours were all being laundered and this one was clean and it had been in my pack near the fire so it was already warm and-”

“Did you take care of me all night?”

“Hmm.” Geralt sighs after his hum and glances away for a moment. “What did you mean about... about the dream in the woods?”

“Oh. Well, when I was very cold and things were hazy and slow, I dreamed that you were there with me. Everything got very fuzzy and warm for a little bit, and when it was warm you were holding me like this and giving me little kisses. It was... nice. Even though I knew I was dying because you were being so soft, so considerate; saying things to me you’d never say out loud in real life.”

“I love you, Jaskier. I will try my best not to lose my temper needlessly,” the witcher swears. “You don’t deserve it.”

“Can we still cuddle like this?” Jaskier asks, leaning his weigth against Geralt’s firm chest. “It’s so nice to be held.”

“Of course. Anything you want. I’m not going to waste my second chance by treating you poorly. Not for another second, my beloved bard.”

“B-beloved?”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, well then I’m definitely still dreaming.”

Geralt lifts Jaskier into his arms and carries him over to the bed, which is piled high with their extra blankets. He tucks Jaskier into the nest against the wall and lays along the outside of the mattress. He presses his lips to the bard’s, reveling in Jaskier’s returning warmth, and smiles. “I’ll prove it’s not a dream. Every day.”

“Sounds nice,” Jaskier yawns, snuggling into the witcher’s arms and settling down to sleep. 

“It will be.”

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

'Hello life ruiner' 'oh calm down that was years ago and your life doesn't look that ruined to me' for Lucien and Eris?

ok so sorry this took me so long but here it is. I kind of went for a Damon/Stefan Esque vibe so hope you enjoy

A knock on the door had eris up from bed too early.

“Are you kidding me?” his lover asked. Their time together was rare as they were typically both occupied during this time of day, setting aside a few hours a week to make time for each other.

“I’m sorry love, I’ll be back to bed soon, and” eris smirked. “We’ll finish what we started.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“I’m counting on it” Eris quickly put a shirt on and walked to the door and peered through the hole. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Eris took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Hello, life ruiner.”

Lucien gave the appearance of looking around. “Oh calm down, that was years ago and your life doesn’t look that ruined to me”

“Yes well, when you left my reputation shattered with my father's blood on my hands it took half a century to get back to a fraction of where I was.”

“So dramatic and we both know that that was only partly my fault.” When Eris didn’t respond, Lucien filled the silence. “Half a century? Huh, has it really been that long?” god his brother was infuriating, it took all of eris’s self-control not to smack him across his face.

“I actually believe it’s been about 75 years.” Eris turned around to face the voice. “Hello, Lucien.”

Lucien looked amused. “Hello Azriel.”

“That mate of yours making you lose track of time?” Azriel chuckled as Lucien tensed.

“Elain is doing well thank you for asking, I see you and my brother have remained close throughout the years.”

“Extremely and thoroughly” eris provided, enjoying the way Lucien shifted uncomfortably. “And as fun, as this little visit was, I have more important” Lucien's eyes flicked to Azriel. “Things to do.”

“Can’t get rid of me that fast brother, I was instructed to reconcile with you or sleep outside.”

“That bad? Seems to be a regular occurrence for you.”

“There’s that sense of humor I missed so much,” Lucien drawled. “So will you have a drink with me?”

“No.” Eris began to shut the door before Azriel stopped him.

“Sorry, can we just have a minute please?”

Lucien appeared grateful. “Of course.”

Eris turned to Azriel, “he destroyed my life, I am not going to have a drink with him.”

“Sweetie, it’s been almost a century and it was mostly beron’s fault.”

“Keyword being almost. Check back in 25”

“Minutes?” Azriel asked hopefully.

“Years.” Eris was about to walk away when Azriel stopped him gently grabbing his arm.

“Eris.” He turned to face him, Eris's gaze softening.

“Please, if not for him then for me, have a drink with your brother and maybe there will be some rewards after.” Eris hated when he got like that, everything about his resolve crumbled and all he wanted was to melt into his hard chest.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But those rewards better be nothing short of spectacular.”

It was Azriel's turn to smirk. “Oh, they will be.” He turned, dropping Eris’s arm, and walked back to his bedroom on silent feet, fading into the shadows. He looked like a god and Eris had to force himself to turn away. He opened the door once more to find his half-brother standing against the side of his house in a nonchalant manner, pretending he hadn’t been listening.

He shot Lucien a look. “Not a word.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“There are rules.”

“The control freak strikes again.” Eris shot him another look. “Ok ok, what are they?”

“You get 1 hour, and the words Mom, dad, hellion, Gwyn and our dead brothers do not come up.”

“No family, got it.” he held his hand out, eris knew he expected him to ask where they were going so he didn’t. Instead, he took his hand as Lucien winnowed them away.

A second later Eris opened his eyes immediately recognizing the stuffy summer court. It reeked of joy and pleasantries Eris did not want to participate in. They walked in silence into the town square to whatever trashy bar or club Lucien was taking him to. Suddenly he stopped in front of what appeared to be a lingerie store.

“Need some new panties brother?” He ignored him instead walking inside and whispering something to the cashier, something even his fae ears couldn’t pick up. The cashier flashed them a sly smile and walked to a rack of clothes. She snapped her fingers and a door appeared, Lucien turned to Eris and although this was unexpected, he kept his features completely neutral. Alright, at least he’s trying to make this interesting. He followed him through the door and down the stairs to a dark room lit with neon lights. The room was large and filled with high fae and faeries alike.

“It’s a chain, across all 7 courts, called the underground beluga.” Lucien provided even though Eris had pointedly not asked.

“Inconspicuous.” He chuckled at that. They went up to the bar and sat down.

“Bourbon please” and at the same Lucien said “a round of shots.”

The waiter looked confused, “So which is it, bourbon or shots?”

“We’ll have both.” Answered Eris to both the waiter and Lucien’s delight.

“I like your style.” responded the waiter.

Lucien clapped him on the back and pushed him to sit down. “As do I.”

Drink after drink came and just 1 had turned into 5, 7, maybe 10? It was hard to keep track. It started off tense but by drink 3 Eris and Lucien had dissolved into jokes and memories. Reminiscing the good, eluding the bad. They spoke of their childhood and when they had been close. He did well with avoiding the topic of family.

Eris was drunk as fuck. His mind was hazy and his vision blurred but he was sure that it was his name being called up to the stage. “Eris vanserra you’re up for karaoke, it was requested by a member in this club, that would like to remain anonymous, for you to sing don’t stop believin by journey to the middle.” He blinked twice and turned around to face his brother. The sly fox was smirking.

“Oh, you little shit.”

He took a sip from his bourbon, “I have no idea what you mean”

The host's voice came again “Eris, come on lad you’re not above karaoke get your ass up here.”

“You heard the man.”

And then the cheering began. “ER-IS ER-IS ER-IS”

“Come on brother, give the crowd what they want.” but eris had a better idea.

“Alright,” He paused, smirking, “brother.” Eris pressed his hand on Lucien's shoulder and winnowed them both to the stage. “This performance will now be a duet,” he announced to the crowd, causing an epidemic of cheering. Lucien’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, one not too different from the color of his hair. The music began and the lyrics to the song appeared in the air. Well this was happening, eris thought, might as well lean into it.

He gripped the microphone in one hand, letting the alcohol take over, and belted. “JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL.” he winked at a seraphim, walking to the center of the stage. “LIVIN IN A LO-NELY WORLDD. SHE TOOK THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN GOIN AN-Y-WHERE.”

Eris looked to Lucien, enjoying the shock on his face, he gave him a look as if to say, your move brother.

Lucien cracked his neck, ran a hand through his hair and took the microphone in both hands. “JUST A CITY BOY. BORN AND RAISED IN SOUTH DESTROITTT.” with each word, his voice became more and more confident. “HE TOOK THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN GOIN AN-Y-WHERE”

Eris took the next two lines. “A SINGER IN A SMO-KEY ROOM. THE SMELL OF WINE AND CHEAP PERF-UMEE.”

Lucien cut him off. “FOR A SMILE THEY’D SHARE THE NIGHT. IT GOES ON AND ON, AND ON, AND ON.”

He joined Eris in the middle of the stage and they sang together. “STRANGERS, WAITIN. UP AND DOWN THE BOULEVARD. THEIR SHADOWS.” With the snap of Eris's fingers, their shadows reflected on the curtain began to dance on their own and he lit everything up in a heatless flame. “SEARCHIN IN THE NIGHTTT. STREETLIGHTS, PEOPLE. LIVIN JUST TO FIND EMOTION.” Eris and Lucien looked to each other and then at the crowd that was going crazy. “HIDIN, SOMEWHERE IN THE NIGHTTTT.”

In reality, they were sweaty, off-tune, drunk idiots doing karaoke. But to Eris in his drunken stupor, thought they were gods on that stage. Leaving every emotion he had felt in his almost 600 years with don’t stop believin. He was on a high and could not be brought down no matter what. Up on that stage with his brother, he was invincible.

They sang at least 4 more songs, each one more insane than the last. They drank and joked until the sun came up. And though Eris had nowhere near forgiven his brother, maybe just maybe he had taken a step in the right direction.

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

re: your last ask about the time travel shenanigans—holy fuck yes please more of this. like, not only is it funny as hell, which i appreciate, but it's also a. more c!thomas and b. points to just how interestingly both the plot and characters of this series have grown over the years and i am ALL for it

"Janus!" is the first thing Thomas exclaims when he sees the Side Formerly Known Exclusively As Deceit rise up where Logan would usually stand. Which just might be a mistake, if Janus’s expression is anything to go by.

Okay, in Thomas's defence -

This is a really, really weird day, even by his standards. Because, like, Logan's currently standing in front of the stairs, and that's not where Logan's supposed to be, and his shirt and tie are all wrong. And had had been grinning. Openly. He had been openly grinning when Thomas had first woken up and looked in his wardrobe and realized that his favorite t-shirt apparently doesn't exist anymore and all his clothes are a half-size smaller than he's used to but also they still fit and - okay, no, back to Logan. He'd gone downstairs and tripped over a chair that wasn't supposed to be there and called out Logic. And he'd been about to ask him what's going on and why everything feels so off and also why Logan's standing in Virgil's usual spot instead of over to the right of the stairs. But then he'd noticed all the aforementioned Very Weird Clothing Things. And he'd stopped and said, "Uh, Logan?" and Logan's grin had dropped and he'd stared at Thomas for a full ten seconds then whispered, "what the fuck," with great emotion.

And then Patton had shown up with a ridiculous amount of pun-riddled cheerfulness that Thomas had been able to clock as sixty-percent fake within about half a second. And his clothes had been all wrong, too, and after a lot of confused, borderline-incomprehensible yelling at each other, Roman had showed up and added to the chaos.

"I am scared and confused and on the verge of completely losing it!" Thomas had declared at some point, which had been the cue for an ominous music sting somewhere to Thomas's right that made everybody jolt in terrified unison.

"Did somebody say scared and confused and on the verge of completely losing it?"

"Virgil, thank god!" Thomas had practically yelled, and just about thrown himself across the room to get to him - before pausing midway and allowing his brain to process... wrong hoodie. Wrong amount of eyeshadow. "Wait. No, hang on, is this - "

"FUCKING WHO," Virgil shrieked, leaping backwards half a flight of stairs, which had led to another round of confused yelling, with Thomas trying to assure them all that he's fine he hasn't had some sort of strange head injury or whatever, he's just really happy to see Virgil and no of course that's not weird, what do you mean who's Virgil, that's Virgil right over there, Roman please put down that sword things are already out of hand -

And at some point Thomas had got it into his head that the most reasonable course of events was to summon the one person who always seems to know everything that everybody else doesn't, which brings everything up to speed, more or less. Roman had gone, "Thomas, what are you doing," and Thomas, feeling slightly manic at this point, had said, "I'm trying to summon a demon, obviously," because the best way to get hold of a certain someone probably is blatant lying, and boom, instant Janus.

"Jeee-sus Christ on a cookie-shaped canoe, what is he doing here?!"

"Janus!"

So, Janus pops up, he looks literally the same as he always has (except maybe with shorter hair? Wait, they all have shorter hair, including Thomas, wait a second -) with his half-snake-face and his hat and gloves that cosy-looking capelet of his. And although his expression reflects faint bewilderment and that very particular 'wait, what' emotion that results in being pulled abruptly away from something you were busy with, he looks so normal that Thomas thinks for a moment he might be the only sane person left.

But then Janus makes a series of start-and-stop noises of incomprehension, and gestures wildly towards Virgil, who's crouched midway up on the stairs behind Logan, looking like a cornered wild animal, and snaps, "Why for the love of everything that's holy would you tell him my name?"

"You think this is me?" Virgil retorts, hands going up to grab desperately at the bars lining the side of the staircase. "I don't understand anything that's going on! He somehow knows my name! He's - he's being nice to me!"

It suddenly occurs to Thomas that this might just possibly be a time travel sort of thing. It would explain the clothes shift. And the altered layout of his house. And the fact that when he'd checked his phone this morning it had told him it was 2016, and also it hadn't been his phone, it had been the one he'd broken a few years ago in a tragic piano-moving-related accident.

...Okay, yeah, this is absolutely a time travel thing.

"Is somebody going to explain why Thomas ruined all of our heartfelt name reveal moments in one fell swoop?" Roman demands. "I thought we agreed we were going to do them gradually and draw them out as long as possible for dramatic effect!"

"I agreed to none of that," Virgil snaps from his position halfway up the stairs.

"Yes," says Logan, "yes, I think we all would like to know what's going on. Thomas? What's going on?"

"Uh - " Thomas, who has just come to a rather startling realization about time travel and also about how shitty his Sides' taste in costumes were pre-wardrobe change, doesn't really have a prepared answer for this. "I have... I am - I just - "

Thomas struggles for words. Really struggles. And everyone's just standing there, watching him with expressions that range from terror to confusion to suspicion, and they all look so weirdly young in a way that's hard to pin down. It's the clothes. It's probably the clothes, or maybe it's the way they hold themselves. Roman, carelessly confident, without a doubt in the world. Patton, still wearing a fixed dad-grin, politely baffled and looking back and forth. Logan, who hasn't been systematically beaten down and pushed back over the course of many, many years. Virgil, who's basically just a ball of grey-and-black anger and acerbic anger at this point. Janus, who's... Janus. Who's looking at him in a way that Janus has never looked at him before.

And Remus is probably lurking somewhere in the back of his mind, too, doing whatever Remus does, and - would Remus be any different now, four years prior? Thomas hadn't had any significant problems with intrusive thoughts, not back then... or, well, back now. Maybe he's calmer, maybe Thomas could actually talk with him. Try to work something out, try to understand.

But wait, he's still got to give the Sides right here and right now an answer.

Hm.

...Thomas has been through a lot in the past four years. Not, like, fantasy protagonist a lot, but more like a extended psychological journey of self-discovery and mental health crises. Now, he wouldn't trade any of this for the world, because he's learned a hell of a lot about himself in the process - but also? The Sides have put him through a lot of horrifying realization-type things.

Which is why he absolutely one hundred percent deserves to do what he's about to do next.

"I," says Thomas, with an extraordinary amount of confidence and self-assuredness, "am psychic."

And the dead silence holds. Now even Patton is staring at him in disbelief. Janus has graduated into outright horror, his face twisted up into a oh god no I am somehow responsible for letting him delude himself this far expression.

"Thomas!" Roman gasps, almost instantly lighting up with genuine enthusiasm. "Oh, Thomas, I'm so proud, we've been working on this for years. Tell me, does this extend to telekinesis, or just somehow knowing all our names and nothing else?"

"What?" Janus says. "What - no. No, you can't seriously be going along with this - what? That... what? That doesn't even make any sense?" He turns wildly from left to right, and - okay, it's very enjoyable to see him out of his depth, to be perfectly honest. Thomas likes Janus a lot, knows he has his best interests at heart, but the whole courtroom thing had been a major dick move. This is satisfying. "Are any of you getting this? Does anyone here understand what's going on?"

"I'm psychic," Thomas repeats doggedly. "I acquired magical psychic powers and now I know all of your names and tragic backstories. Surprise! I unlocked my full potential and the ninety-percent of my brain power that I wasn't using."

"That's - that's a widely-perpetuated and wildly incorrect myth," Logan says weakly.

"Nope. Turns out it's true, and I was only using ten percent of it, and now that I've gone full big-brain, I know that Patton's repressing all his bad feelings because he doesn't want to bother anyone with them, Virgil acts all scary and menacing because he thinks it's the only way that I'll ever listen to him, and Janus is secretly a huge dork with a heart of gold - uh, yellow, I guess."

"How dare you," Janus breathes, looking horrified.

"Wha - " Patton suddenly looks very pale indeed.

"Also, Roman, you're my hero; Logan, please never stop smiling like that ever again, it's literally my favorite thing in the world and if you ever stop being enthusiastic about teaching me things I will cry - and Virgil, I love you."

Virgil lets out a choked little noise like he's just been punched directly in the stomach.

"I love all of you," Thomas adds, an afterthought. "I never say that enough. Janus, that goes for you as well. You're right, I need to take care of myself more."

"I'm - " Janus is still looking around at everyone in complete disbelief, but now his gaze fixes onto Thomas, his eyes wide. "I'm what?"

Thomas is now on a roll. An extremely cathartic sort of roll. "And Remus -"

Everybody immediately panics. Virgil and Logan's hands both immediately leap up to clasp over their mouths, which seems to be a reflexive reaction on Janus's behalf. Patton lets out a deranged-sounding high pitched giggle that edges into genuine hysteria.

"Brother? What brother? I don't know what a brother is!" Roman says loudly. "I've never had a brother in my life! Thomas, your glorious psychic powers are malfunctioning. Have you tried turning them off and turning them on again?"

" - I'm not going to lie and say I love him, but -" Thomas stops abruptly, and staggers  backwards to catch himself on the couch as a thought strikes him out of literally nowhere. "Son of a bitch -"

"Does being psychic make you swear a lot?" Patton asks weakly. "Because, uh. Not sure I like this side of you, kiddo - "

"Logan," says Thomas. "Logan, what's the date today? This is so, so important, what's the date."

"It's... October," Logan says, very slowly. "October twentieth. 2016?"

"Holy shit," Thomas whispers, and then says it louder, "holy shit. Okay, listen. I was going to sort out all of our collective psychological issues in one impressive emotional speedrun, but I've realized we have something much more important to do." He pauses, and takes in a very deep, shuddering breath. "Guys. We can save Vine. Excuse me. I've just realized I’ve got to make a lot of calls."

[mothicalspoken]

Trading One For Another

Summary: The Night, in Marcy’s body, offers a proposition. Anne takes it. Based off the small theory I have because of Anne’s eye in the photo in The Sleepover To End All Sleepovers. A night!Anne fic 

TW for graphic depictions of violence and injuries! 

-----

Anne’s vision spun wildly as she struggled to recollect herself. Something warm was dripping off her face from the impact with the stone wall, and her head hurt like hell. In the corner of her eye, she saw a vague red blur rush towards her, but in a blink of an eye, the red figure was pulled back from Anne’s vision. 

Blink. 

“Oh no you don’t,” a creepy yet familiar voice tinged with rust hissed.

Blink. 

Anne turned her head, and a flash of bright light shone through her cloudy vision that was just beginning to clear.

Blink.

A glimpse of yellow.

Blink. 

A guttural scream. 

“SASHA!” Anne exclaimed,  swiping at her eyes and not taking the time to examine the thick blood now plastered on the back of her hand. The blonde was on her knees and heaving, one hand pressed over her left eye. A figure clad in a blue wetsuit stumbled back on sudden unsteady feet and the glowing knife fell from thier grip. 

Anne raised herself to her knees with visible strain, and crawled towards her fallen friend. It hurt to even lift her head. Sasha kept one hand over her eye, and looked at Anne with the other, tears brimming even as she held out her arm and took Anne in underneath it. 

Anne wrapped her arm around the back of Sasha’s torso and pulled her close, brandishing nothing but a glowing blue fist as she glared angrily at the figure standing before them. 

They were crying. Their breaths came out as thick, choked sobs, but their face was set with a sinister determination. Orange eyes glowed against the shadows of Andrias’s basement. They took in a deep breath, and wiped thier eyes, muttering loudly to themself in a voice that was far too composed for someone who looked like they were in the middle of a breakdown. 

“Urgh... this child’s emotions are so... annoying,” They said dismissively. Anne stiffened and bristled at their words. “The Wit cries so much- like I get it, I get it, you love your friends or whatever and you don’t want to hurt them. Fine. But here’s the thing! I’m hurting them. And you can’t do anything about it but shake some things around and hope it messes me up. So just sit back and let me conquer this place, okay?” 

“Stop HURTING THEM!” Anne screamed, anger and desperation radiating from every part of her voice. She was powerless to do anything but yell and hold back, due to the threat of accidentally injuring Marcy. “Get out of Marcy’s body and get away from Sasha, you sick freak!” 

“That’s an awfully human term to describe something that has been alive longer than you’re able to comprehend,” the figure in the wetsuit replied with a nonchalant air, orange eyes blinking innocently. “Honestly, considering how young you are compared to me, don’t you think you should trust my judgement? Gotta respect your elders and all that, as frogs say.” 

“I don’t care whatever self-righteous nonsense you think you’re entitled to, you stupid body-stealing eldritch robot baby,” Anne hissed, earning a weak laugh from Sasha. “Just get out of my friend’s body, and leave us alone.” 

The figure let out a long, drawn out, dramatic sigh. 

“Fine. If you REALLY want me to stop doing whatever I’m doing, then I have a suggestion. You might not like it though.” 

“I’ll do anything,” Anne insisted firmly, something deep and permanent fueling her from the inside. “Just as long as Sasha and Marcy don’t have to suffer anymore because of you.” 

“Oh really?” The figure  bent down and looked at Anne with a smug little smile. “Well- do you think you can handle me, you little glowing nuisance?” 

Sasha sucked in a harsh breath in realization, and tugged Anne even closer, whispering frantically into her ear. 

“Anne, don’t fall for it, it’s-”

“Sasha. I’m the only one out of us three who actually has a grip on my calamity powers. It has to be me.” 

“What makes you think that your calamity powers are going to be able to stop whatever that thing is?!” Sasha hissed, voice slightly higher than usual. “You don’t even know anything about it! It takes ahold of your mind, and Marcy was the one who was supposed to be good with that stuff, and-”  “They’re mortally injured! Do you really think that it’s possible to concentrate on fighting off an eldritch god when you have a gaping chest wound?!” Anne hissed back. “They’re trying her best, and they’ve gone through so much already, and I just-” 

“You’re injured too!” Sasha exclaimed, tears brimming in her eyes, finally taking her left hand off her eye. There was a deep burned gash in the place where her eye had been, completely disfiguring the side of her face, and it almost made Anne sick to look at, especially since the smell of roasted flesh began to emanate from it as soon as Sasha took her hand away. She raised her hand to gently brush at the side of Anne’s head, and Anne hissed in pain. Sasha’s fingers came back bloody. “You can't just- I don’t-” 

“Not as injured as her, or you. I’ll be fine,” Anne replied, a little more coldly than intended. She raised her hand to where Sasha had her arm wrapped around her shoulder, and squeezed her hand in a feeble act of reassurance. “Just.. trust me okay? Please.” 

Sasha opened her mouth and closed it again, like an incredibly worried fish. She said nothing though, and instead buried the uninjured side of her face into Anne’s shoulder, holding on for dear life. 

“You’re not gonna lose me. After this, I promise we’ll never have to lose each other again,” Anne whispered, quiet enough so only Sasha could hear. “We’re done with that. No more getting separated, and almost dying, or literally dying. None of that. It stops now. I’m gonna make sure of it.”   

The only answer from Sasha was an incredibly pained look. It was strange to see on the usually composed and confident girl. 

The figure rolled their eyes and groaned. 

“So is that a yes or no? C’mon, I don’t have all day for your sappy little heart-to-heart or whatever you’re doing.”

“I’ll do it,” Anne confirmed. Sasha’s hand gripped onto her t-shirt tighter. The figure bent down to Anne and Sasha’s level and smiled wide, almost mockingly. 

“Well then, if that’s the case...” they scanned Anne’s face, and seemed to come to a decision of some sort. “Hold still. I’mma let my host take over for a little bit here.” 

Anne’s eyes widened as one of the orange orbs staring at her flickered, and soon became smoothly replaced with a familiar brown pupil against a white sclera. Almost instantly, Anne could see the regret and sorrowfulness in Marcy’s eye. 

Thier hands, cold and slightly damp, came to rest on either side of Anne’s face, shaking slightly. 

With a single, determined movement, Marcy leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Anne’s open head wound. 

Almost immediately, Anne’s vision flooded with a bright, glowing orange light, and she shut her eyes against it. A wave of pain shot through her mind, and she  cluctched at the sides of her head, trying to fight back against the intense takeover. 

Marcy slumped over, and fell limply into Sasha’s arms, breathing shallow. Sasha  pulled her into her lap and held her close, whispering “I’ve got you,” and “you’re okay,” and any other words of reassurement she could possibly offer. 

“Ugh...” Anne groaned, finally tearing her hands away. 

Sasha looked over at her, breath catching in the back of her throat. 

Half-lidded, tired eyes stared back at her. 

One blue. 

One orange. 

Anne gave a feeble thumbs up, and laughed. 

[whisperlullaby]

Just Say It And I’m Yours- Ch.5

Summary: Steve is away on a mission and Connor asks you out again and this time you don’t have a reason to say no.

Words: 1766

Warnings: None? Pining, Steve being dumb...just buckle up he’s gonna be dumb for a while. Allusions to toxic family life. (if I missed anything let me know)

A/N: Super special thanks to @river-soul for being the best beta! Thanks to @dreamslikeaheartbeat for the phenomenal banner. If I missed any warnings let me know and please if you’re a minor DNI. 

Tag: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @bestofbucky @loveyou5everr @purselover2 @sweeterthanthis​ @freyagreyson​ @saiyanprincessswanie if you want to be on my taglist send me a DM. If you want to be taken off my taglist also send me a DM.

The weekend went by in a blur. You were heartbroken when Steve told you the almost kiss meant nothing, could mean nothing. You dreamt for months about the feel of his lips on yours and now you would never know what it would be like to kiss him. Steve didn’t want anything more than a friendship with you and after drinking your sorrows away for a weekend you reaffirmed your resolve to be his friend. He was trying to find himself, just like you, and it wouldn’t be fair to ask for more than he was willing to give. After spending all of your free time with Steve, he became your person, and when it boiled down to it you would rather have this version of Steve in your life than try to force something more and lose him altogether. 

You knew the toxicity of being forced to do something you didn’t want to do just to make someone else happy. Not just from working in your chosen field, but from your family life. You lived your whole life to please your family only to realize one day that it wasn’t what you wanted at all. When you told them you had a different path you wanted to take they cut you off and cast you aside. It was the best thing to ever happen to you because it let you have the freedom you needed to learn more about yourself and figure out who you wanted to be. 

That experience left you feeling self-conscious and compliant, ever the people pleaser with poor boundaries. You were determined to move past those feelings even though it was going to be a long road, you owed it to yourself. Being forced to move to a new city was a blessing as it allowed you to grow into a person you felt more proud of. You met Steve a week later and between feeling confident for the first time in years, and Steve looking at you like you hung the stars, you were beginning to feel like you finally found where you belonged. When he told you that you could just pretend the kiss didn’t happen you swore you heard your heart shatter. But you found yourself once before, you could do it again. It’s not like you lost Steve completely, he just needed a friend more than he needed a partner. 

So, you steeled yourself against the heartache. Steve needed to get back to his Captain America duties and you needed that distance to figure yourself out again. He had told you that he was going to be gone for at least a week doing recon work, which meant for the first time since you met him you wouldn’t have Friday movie night.

It turned out to be fortuitous that he was gone because your caseload doubled for the week. By Friday you were up to your elbows in paperwork when Connor walked into your office.

“Hey there, darling. You look busy.”

You looked up and narrowed your eyes. “Yeah, it’s what people who are invested in the wellbeing of others look like. Busy.”

Connor snickered. “Well, I just wanted to know if you wanted to get dinner tonight. No shop talk required.”

You froze. You were expecting it, of course, Connor asked you out every week. This time was a bit different though since you knew Steve didn’t feel the same way you felt about him. Truth be told, part of the reason you always turned Connor down was on the off chance Steve would ask you out. You deserved a chance to be with someone who wanted to be with you too. You were hesitant but you needed to start getting over your crush on Captain America.

“Sure Connor,” you sighed. “Why not? Give me 20 minutes and I’ll meet you outside.”

Connor perked up. “Yeah, whatever you need. It’s not a no this time?”

“It’s not a no this time. I just have a few things I need to finish up,” you tapped the pile of paperwork.

“No problem, I’ll bring my car around.” Connor practically skipped out of your office.

When you heard the door click shut you pulled your phone out and sent Steve a text.

“Hey, I know you’re busy but could you and Bucky come over tomorrow night when you get back? It’s been a long week.”

You flipped your phone over not expecting a response when your phone chirped.

“Of course, doll. I’ll let you know when we land and we’ll come over.”

You let out a cleansing breath. If you were going to tell Steve about your date, you were going to need a Bucky buffer. 

////////////

It was around 8:00 pm when Steve and Bucky got to your apartment. You didn’t miss the way you felt relief wash over you when you saw Steve standing outside your door. After they hung up their coats they each pulled you in for a hug. Bucky’s was quick and he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. Steve squeezed you tight, almost as if he was afraid to let go, swaying as he stood there. You melted into his embrace for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m sorry for missing movie night, sweetheart. I hope it doesn’t happen again,” Steve lamented.

“I hope it doesn’t either.” You nodded, moving into the kitchen. “Thirsty?”

“Sure I’ll take a beer if you have one.” Steve plopped down on your couch.

“Same here sparky.” Bucky sat in the recliner putting his feet on your coffee table.

You gave him a quizzical look. “Sparky?”

Bucky looked at Steve then back at you. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re like a firecracker, so, Sparky.”

You let out a bubbly laugh. “Alright, tinman, whatever you say.”

Bucky pouted as you handed him his beer and kicked his feet off your coffee table. You handed Steve his and watched him drain half the bottle as you sat down.

“You better use a goddamned coaster or I swear to god you’re buying me a new coffee table.” You threw a coaster at Steve’s face just before his glass hit the table. 

 He laughed as he caught the coaster and placed it on the table under his glass.

“So, what’s new? I have to admit I got a bit nervous when you asked us to come over when we got back.” Steve raised his eyebrow staring you down. 

You began to fidget. Your eyes shifted between Steve and Bucky trying to figure out the easiest way to tell them about your date last night. You caught Steve’s eyes as they filled with concern. He knew you better than anyone so you knew that fidgeting was a dead give away that something wasn’t quite right.

“Doll, is everything okay?” Steve reached out and touched your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you rushed out. “I just, um, Connor asked me on a date. Since you were on a mission, I said yes. We went out last night.”

You looked up at Steve searching his eyes for anything to give him away. His hand fell from your shoulder and you heard Bucky choke a little on his beer. Steve’s eyes snapped towards his friend as he leaned down to pick up his own drink. You had hoped Bucky’s presence would make the news a bit more casual so you wouldn’t feel the heaviness fill your chest like lead as you waited for Steve’s reaction.

“Oh, Connor? Isn’t that the guy that irons his jeans?” Steve joked. Only it wasn’t really a joke, Connor really liked ironing.

“I mean yeah, but that seems like a livable concession.” You rolled your eyes. “Besides it’s not like I have any other suitors.” You cocked your head thoughtfully playing with the rim of your glass. 

“How did it go?” Steve was staring at his hands. If there was anything you were an expert at, it was reading Steve Rogers like a damned book and he was avoiding your eye contact for a reason. 

“It actually went really great. He took me to that French place across town, you know the one that looks way too pretentious to eat at. We have a lot more in common than I thought.” You bit your lip before you continued. “I wanted to know if my dating him would bother you. It would definitely limit my free time and I know how much you love my company. Though I think Bucky’s starting to feel left out.” 

You chuckled when you heard Bucky scoff and turned your head to stick your tongue out at him.

Turning back to Steve you tried to catch his eye. “I just want to know if there is absolutely any reason my dating Connor would make you uncomfortable.”

Steve considered your question for a minute. He had no reason to tell you who you could and could not date, especially after he told you he would rather be friends. You had almost hoped that he would admit to the sparks clearly happening between the two of you. You were taking measured breaths waiting for him to say something. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky staring Steve down as if he was trying to have a silent conversation. Steve took another sip of his beer before turning to you.

“I think you deserve to be happy. If Connor can do that for you then I am happy for you,” Steve said, pursing his lips.

You felt tears spring to your eyes and willed them back.

“Great, cool, okay.” You gathered the empty bottles and ran into the kitchen. “I’ll get us some refills.”

That was it. You knew you weren’t going to be able to convince Steve to fight for you, and you owed it to yourself to give Connor a shot. As you grabbed new beers out of the fridge you reminisced about the times when you and Steve would stay up late sharing your favorite songs, how when you saw a kid lose his balloon Steve bought the vendor out just to cheer them up, and how he knew exactly how you took your coffee after the second coffee run you made together. 

You hoped Connor would be able to give you some of those happy memories, but there was a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you something wasn’t right. You pushed that feeling down a little bit further, refusing to listen to it. It was probably just the part of you still hung up on Steve and nothing a little time wouldn’t fix.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unfinished Business ~ Part Six

WORD COUNT: 6K

WARNINGS: Mentions of mafia, strong language, murder, blood

PAIRING: Bang Chan X Reader

DESCRIPTION: Part six of nine of my new Bang Chan series. 

You’re taken hostage but one of Seoul’s leading mafia families Bang Chan but he doesn’t take you because he wants to fake a marriage or make you fall for him in 365 days no…He wants to use you for his own personal gain. To take over another family but when you try to escape things take a turn for the worst and you learn Chan isn’t one to be messed with.(Please I suck at describing stuff)

THEMES: TW || Chapter includes mentioned of being touched inappropriately by a stranger, Smut will be included in a later chapter so this is a fic for a mature audience, Chan x Fem!Reader, Self insert

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

"Wake up sleepyhead," You groaned, shoving whoever was waking you up away from you, hitting them in the face.

"Five more minutes." A rough tug sat you up and you came face to face with Changbin, who was holding a plate in one hand and you in the other.

"Chan isn't here. Eat and then do whatever it is that you do when he isn't here." You looked down at the food on the plate and decided within seconds that you weren't hungry for whatever that was. It didn't look appetising and you didn't trust Changbin as far as you could throw him.

"Where's Jisung? I thought it was his shift this morning." You mumbled taking the plate and leaving it on the bedside table. Changbin didn't care if you ate it or not, he didn't really care for you at all, so he watched you walk around the bedroom trying to figure out what your plan was.

"Are you planning your escape today?" You stared at him and raised your eyebrow, as if he could think you'd run after what Chan did.

"No, I was thinking of cleaning. You guys are pigs." He lunged at you and you smirked at him, you weren't afraid of him or anyone else in this place. They wouldn't kill you because of how Chan acted around you, they held nothing over you which meant you had some kind of leverage.

"I'm going for a shower and then I'm cleaning the house." You rolled your eyes at him and walked into the ensuite bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind you. It's not as though you could escape through the tiny window and it wasn't like you had anywhere to go. Your ankle was doing better though which was great, one less thing to have to worry about when you did inevitably escape from Chan.

The front door had banged open, you looked up from the floor you were cleaning to see who it was that had made such a loud entrance,

"You have a date tonight." You stared at Felix as he spoke to you, as though you had some kind of idea as to what he was talking about.

"To whom are you referring?" He held up two tickets to a charity ball and you stared at them, black tie and ball gown were expected. There was going to be auctions held to donate money to charity. It was a charity ball that donated to the nursing home you used to work at, they held the party once or twice a year for benefactors to make generous donations.

"Chan's going to that?" You questioned. You'd served there a couple of years ago when you wanted to volunteer and the place was beautiful, it was right in Seoul centre in one of the biggest, most expensive hotels ever. Felix nodded his head,

"Like he does every year. Donates a large sum to them every year as well as auction things off. He donates throughout the year though through anonymous donations." You stared at Felix as he told you what Chan did for them, it surprised you you'd only ever heard of the bad things that Chan did for his money, not with it.

"Stealing from the rich to give to the poor? Sounds too much like Robin hood for me." Felix chuckled and shook his head at you, he could see something was going on inside your head. Like a battle with yourself that you weren't going to admit to losing just yet, he was brilliant at reading people and to him, you were an open book.

"I can't go. I have nothing to wear." You went back to cleaning the dishes you'd collected from all over the house and that's when Felix pulled out a wallet.

"That's why I have money, Jisung and Changbin will be following along with us to make sure you don't try anything." You glanced over at your shoulder, Changbin wasn't looking too happy about going with you on the field trip.

"Why not someone else?" You took the washing up gloves off your hands and walked over to the towels. They all knew about your dislike for Changbin since neither of you was trying to hide it, drying your hands and turning back to Felix.

"No one else is free...It'll be fun. I'll help you find something and then I'll get us all a tie to match your dress." Your version of fun seemed different from Felix's. You'd rather stay at home in your bed all day rather than shopping for the perfect dress and shoes.

"Let's go-"

"Don't I have to change first?" You remembered Chan's surprise when you wanted to go out in the jeans you'd been painting in. But Felix was fine with you coming in the leggings and oversized shirt they'd gotten you, it wasn't like he was trying to show you off to everyone.

"Not that's fine. Let's go, we don't want to be late tonight."

The shopping trip hadn't been a total drag like you'd thought it would be, Changbin managed to pretend to be happy to be there. Jisung and Felix were like the brothers you always wanted except way better than you had imagined them to be. It was so nice to be out of the house and joking around with them so much you'd almost forgotten who they were.

"I feel stupid," You said, as you stared yourself in the mirror. Felix was in your bedroom wearing an all-black suit, along with a red tie to match your dress. Chan wanted you all to match so people would know you were all together at the party, that way no one would mess with you. Chan had only gotten back an hour ago and had spent his entire time back locking his office complaining about something to Minho. You'd heard him shouting from inside of the bathroom when you were getting ready but you couldn't understand a word of it, it was all too muffled through the walls to understand anything. He'd been shouting at Minho about how Namjoon was going to be at the party, he never made appearances at things like that which was both good and bad news.

"Chan's downstairs now, the car is here." You sighed and came out of the bathroom nervously playing with your fingers as you waited for them to see you again. The red silk gown was floor length with a split at the front left side coming up to your mid-thigh.

"Whoa." You stared at Felix and shook your head at him, he was the one that had picked the dress out and saw you try it on.

"You saw it before."

"That was before the hair and makeup, you look...whoa." Your makeup had been done by someone in the mall along with your hair. You shook your head at him again and went over to the mirror to look at yourself. It felt like you were playing dress up as a kid all over again, the dress cost more than anything you would ever be able to afford in this lifetime or the next and it had an A-line flow with a backless detail. It was something you never would have worn before, but were wearing now because you had to look your best for the evening.

"Chan's gonna-"

"Chan's gonna what - oh my god," Seungmin gasped as he walked into the room, he'd come to see what was taking so long but he was shocked by how you looked as well.

"Boys," You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes and heading down the staircase. You could hear Chan ranting about something to the rest of the boys, doubling their security and watching him all night. He didn't care if they were tired or not, they weren't to have their eyes off the ball for even a moment there was too much at risk.

"Are you even listening? This is more important than all the other times we've been to these things. We have someone important to protect now- Are you even listening to me?" Jisung pointed over his shoulder at you, and Chan turned around to see you standing there with a small shy smile on your face. Chan’s jaw dropped as he stared at you, you looked incredible and he couldn't believe you were standing there so awkwardly. Someone that looked like you should have been walking tall and high with their head held high, and he was going to make sure he could help you do that. He was going to make you confident and feel like the beautiful girl you were. All thoughts about what he was talking to his men about were gone as you came closer to him. He took your hand in his and kissed the top of it, placing it back down at your hip and you felt a flutter in your heart as he stared at you. No one had ever looked at you like that before, it was nerve-wracking but at the same time, it made you feel warm inside, safe and that you weren't alone.

"The car," Changbin said, having no time to waste on this stupid moment Chan seemed to be having with you. They were all on edge for the night and were now protecting you and Chan while you were at the event together.

"Is everything okay?" You asked, as you sat in the back of Chan's car together Jeongin was driving with Seungmin by his side. The car in front of you had Felix and Minho inside and the last car behind you carried Hyunjin, Jisung and Changbin, you were being watched from angles. The same thing, matching cars and number plates in case any of you were followed it would be easy enough to confuse them. He was going to make sure nothing happened to you.

"Everything is fine." He lied, looking out of the window. He didn't feel like he could lie while looking you in the eyes. Right now he was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself, because you weren't his to touch he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by putting his hands on you,

"At the party, I'm going to introduce you as my fiancé...go along with it." You nodded and he slipped off a ring from his pinky finger. Turning to look at you as he slid it onto your ring finger, it was the perfect fit.

"Is there a reason we're faking that I'm your fiancé?" Chan nodded and turned to you trying to make it seem like he wasn't lying through his teeth right now.

"Namjoon."

"The man from the store?" Chan nodded again,

"I realise that I'm not in your eyes but what I do I do for the good of people and Namjoon...Let's just say he has his own selfish reasons for what he and his crew do. Killing for fun, killing for the sake of killing-" You felt fear ripple through your body and Chan could see that so he stopped talking about it. Namjoon was well known everywhere, everyone had heard of Namjoon and if they hadn't they were either stupid or didn't live in Seoul.

"So I have a target on my back because he saw us together the other day?" This was Chan's idea in the first place, he shouldn't be feeling guilty about this but he was. The plan was to lure Namjoon out, but since the day you spent alone together he'd been having second thoughts about the entire thing. He figured being seen by Namjoon would bring him out of hiding and have him admit that he killed Chan's wife. The bonus would be having him scare you so much you would be too terrified to leave Chan's side, so now why was he feeling so guilty for doing it? All he wanted to do was make you stay with him forever, he would be the one to protect you.

"I promise to look after you, he won't ever hurt you." You could tell by the way he was holding your hands, squeezing them and staring into your eyes that he was sincere. Which was what scared you. He was closer to believing that you actually liked him, while you were now stuck with staying with him forever or being on the run from two big mafia leaders who would both want you dead.

"Why do you come to these events?" You asked, trying to change the subject to anything else.  You could avoid the feeling of being scared if you just put it off long enough.

"I have my reasons," He linked your hands together as he sat in the back of the car. He didn't know how to act around you, you were being so nice to him lately and he didn't want to do anything to change that.

"Do I have to be scared about being out with you?" You questioned, your mind wandering back to Namjoon who was going to be at the event.

"No. I promised I would never let anything happen to you and I meant it." He squeezed your hand. You felt somewhat comforted by it, knowing that he was starting to fall for you hard enough to want to protect you. But then your mind went back to Changbin's threat and your conflicting heart. You could already feel yourself feeling sorry for him, clearly whatever had happened with his wife was affecting him badly. Maybe he was just that good guy that got pushed too far. One half of you was wanting to stay with him, but your brain was still on fire battling the thought about him doing what he did to Mrs Lu and the story your ditzy barmaid had told you. That chan had been the one to kill her, anyone with more than three brain cells could tell he hadn't though, that the story of him killing his wife was complete bullshit.

"Thank you." You whispered, looking out of the window nervously as you thought about the event. It was highly publicised meaning someone was going to get your photograph of you sitting there.

"Did you mean it?" You questioned quickly, he hummed at you and turned to stare at your face wondering what you were talking about.

"Did I mean what?"

"About taking me to see my grandfather?" He could tell by the look on your face that you were excited about the thought of it. But you were doing your best to stay calm about it and so he nodded at you. It could be a reward for you if you were good tonight while you were out with him.

"I'll take you if you behave tonight." You smiled shyly at him and nodded, promising you would be good. You'd promised not to try and get away and you meant it.

"Then let's get to it. Maybe get a nice photo to give to him?" Chan asked you, as he looked at the photographers outside the hotel. You nodded and the door opened, flashing lights started to blind you and you held onto Chan as he helped you out of the car.

"How do you deal with this?" You giggled, looking at him as he walked with you side by side. He linked his arm around your waist and smiled down at you trying to look good for the cameras. He paused at the bottom of the steps, a red carpet had been laid out and people were screaming questions at everyone who was walking there. It was like Chan was some kind of famous celebrity and people wanted to interview him.

"I smile and get on with it, I never liked this side of my life. They glorify the things I do and it's wrong, even if I do this all for the right reasons it makes it look good when it's not." You stared up at him as you walked towards the doors, lost in your own world as if the rest of the world melted away as you stared into his eyes. But he kept his head forward trying to focus on not falling over.

The evening was going admirably. You were in the middle of a huge event hall in the hotel, the walls were all white with marble columns to keep up the extremely high ceilings. The boys and you were all at the second-floor bar that looked down over at the rest of the party,

"Y/n?" You turned, to see a man around 6'0 smiling at you and coming over to you. You were standing at the bar while Chan went to stand beside someone and talk. The man was wearing a black suit with a blue tie on, you'd never seen him before so you had no idea how he knew your name. Jisung was supposed to be watching you but he was on his phone, you didn't blame him though it must have been boring watching someone all night.

"Hello." You greeted coldly, looking to try and get Jisung's attention but it wasn't going to work. Changbin was nowhere to be seen and Hyunjin was in the bathroom. You were starting to panic when the man reached for your hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing it gently, looking at the ring on your finger but he didn't care about it.

"May I have a dance? I'm Clarke."

"No, I don't think my fiancé would like that." You were trying to come up with some excuse to get away from him, but Chan's back was to you as he spoke to someone about a donation he was making to them. You didn't know how to get him to turn around without screaming his name, and causing a scene not something you wanted to do in such a nice place.

"I'm sure he won't mind one dance." He pulled you over towards the staircase that led down to the bottom floor. Your heart began to pound, if the boys looked up to see you missing it would be bad news for you, but if Chan looked and saw you with another man it would be bad news for him.

"My fiancé really wouldn't like this, he's-"

"He's an idiot by letting you stand alone and giving you such a cheap-looking metal ring." His hand landed on your waist. Your eyes locked onto the back of Chan's head, hoping that somehow he would feel the stare and turn around.

"Please let me go." You begged him, but his hand slipped down to your waist while his other grabbed onto your ass squeezing it softly. He trailed his hand to your thigh so you slapped him across the face, the room was so packed no one noticed. So you began rushing over to Jisung, he was the closest one to you and the nicest one out of them all. Your hand gripped onto his bicep as you pleaded for him to help you,

"Help." You whispered, he looked at your panicked face and then saw a man coming over to you holding his face with a red mark across his cheek.

"You slapped him?" You nodded, explaining that he started touching you and you had to get away.

"You little whore, dressing like this and expecting not to be touched?!" You whimpered, as the man began storming towards you. Jisung took control of the situation quickly,

"Chan!" Chan turned around and saw the worried look on your face and then the man. He was livid, he stormed to your sight and took your face in his hands turning it side to side to look at you. The man stopped as he realised it was Chan that you were with and not someone else, he began begging for them not to hurt him but Changbin grabbed onto his arms.

"You okay? Did he hurt you?" You shook your head and Chan turned around to punch the man who'd grabbed you the way he did,

"Changbin, take him back to the house and put him up in the basement I'm not through with him." He ran his hands through his black hair. You noticed curls starting to form as he pulled it from the styling gel, you never knew he had curly hair. It was something you were trying to focus on to keep you calm.

"You sure you're okay? Did he hurt you at all?"

"No, I'm fine. He just grabbed my ass and my-" He went to follow Changbin out of the hotel, wanting to kill him for even thinking about touching you. You grabbed onto his hand,

"Don't leave me please." You urged him and he stared down at your hand on his wrist. He felt his heart begin to pick up and he nodded at you, even if he did feel like it was his fault for leaving you alone when he promised he wouldn't.

"Fine. Let's go and have a drink." You followed him towards the bar and ordered a scotch, he did the same and looked at you. He could tell that the fact that the man touching you was bothering you. You were scared, having someone touch you like that in such a public place, you had no idea what could have happened if he'd gotten you down the stairs.

"You promised to watch me, you promised. What if that was Namjoon that got hold of me?" He shook his head at you. He cupped your cheek in his hands running his thumb over your skin trying to calm you down.

"I took my eyes away for two seconds, it's not my fault you're so beautiful that everyone wants you. I promise he'll get what's coming to him. No one will hurt you or touch you." You realised what he meant by that and you stared at him,

"You're going to kill him..." It was a statement rather than a question, about what he was or wasn't going to do. But he heard your voice crack and he stared at you wanting to search for any signs that you didn't want him to, but all he could see was the sign of you being okay with it.

"Yes." He answered blandly, but he didn't care, no scumbag should get away with touching people that clearly asked him to stop.

"Good. Make him pay for it." He liked this side of you, you had no idea where it was coming from but you wanted the man to pay for what he'd done to you. It always happened in the bar you used to work in, sleazy men would touch whoever they wanted and get away with it and you were sick of it. It was about time that somebody took care of it.

"I'll make sure he does." He promised, kissing your cheek and then looking around for the time,

"We have time for a dance before the auctioning starts." He took your hand, you downed the drink of scotch, following him to the staircase to head down for a dance together.

Both of you lost in your world as Namjoon watched from across the room, he asked his right-hand man for the information they had gathered on you. It was strange how you'd seemingly come from nowhere and were now being announced as Chan's fiancé. They told him about your family history, your grandmother using his money and dying leaving bills unpaid. He smirked watching you being waltzed around by Chan, he had a plan now. Chan's hand was placed on your waist, while his other hand held onto yours, slowly leading you along the floor swaying back and forth with you.

"You look great tonight, by the way, I don't know if I mentioned that." You laughed at Chan and nodded at him, even though you didn't believe what he was saying.

"You didn't have to, the boys did it for you. Apparently, I'm 'whoa'." He chuckled and nodded in agreement with them.

"They're right. You look gorgeous." You could feel your cheeks heating up as he complimented you,

"Dip." He said, you stared up at him as he dipped you down and smiled at you. A camera flash went off capturing the happy moment making you both momentarily blind.

"Look at the happy couple." You both stood up to see Namjoon staring at you,

"Y/n Y/l/n, and Bang Chan...surprising couple." You cleared your throat and Chan wrapped his arm around your waist, he knew Namjoon would have gotten to know everything about you by now.

"Can I see the ring?" You didn't have a chance to decline, Namjoon just took your hand in his and stared down at the small silver band around your finger.

"Huh. Seems simple for someone like Chan to give you." Chan didn't have time to say anything,

"I asked for something simple, inexpensive to prove how much I wanted Chan for Chan and not who he was and his money." Namjoon nodded along and looked at Chan.

"May I dance with her?" Chan stepped aside willingly, not wanting to disobey Namjoon and cause a scene. He watched as Namjoon began to dance with you in the same way Chan had been doing before.

"I know he took you against your will, do you want to get out of here?" You stared up at Namjoon as he stared off behind you, trying not to make it look obvious about what he was talking about.

"He didn't take me against my will, I went with him. I love him." You seemed so convincing you almost believed yourself, Namjoon stared down at you shocked that the words had even left your mouth.

"Love him? My dear, that almost sounded convincing to me. You barely know the man, you've been with him less than a week." He kissed your forehead and brought you into a hug,

"You better watch out my love, as soon as he turns his back, you're mine just like his ex. I'll assume he told you the horror story but be warned, I will kill you just like I did to her...Paint his living room a nice shade of red again." He left you alone and you stood staring at the back of his head, Chan frowned coming over to you.

"What's wrong? Did he hurt you? Say something?" You turned to look up at Chan and he stared down at you, you looked terrified, more terrified than the night he'd killed Mrs Lu.

"H-He said I have to watch out before you turn your back and I end up just like your ex." Chan's hand on your hip tightened and you whimpered moving away from his grasp.

"What does that mean? What happened?" He looked around and shouted Seungmin and Jeongin over. It gave him the confirmation he'd been using you for, but now his blood ran cold at the thought of Namjoon threatening you. It wasn't just Chan using you for information anymore, he liked you a lot and now you were in real danger

"Give them the money, bid on the weekend away, I need to take her home. Namjoon threatened her." His hands were on your arm and he was rushing you out of the hall and towards the exit of the building,

"Smile and look happy, if Namjoon knows he's scared you he wins." You nodded and started smiling up at him, he took your hand in his and sighed.

"Come here," He bent down to pick you up bridal style and you squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck and staring into his eyes.

"What are you doing?" You asked, looking into his eyes and nowhere else as the cameras flashed at you both running to the car.

"You move too slowly in those heels. I have to get you home where I can keep you safe." He sat you in the car and told Felix to drive fast and not stop for anything.

"What happened with your ex...Is he going to get me?" You panicked and he linked your hand in his.

"I'll tell you everything, I promise, but right now you need to get home and get you safe. I'm not going to let you die okay." He kissed your cheek and you laid your head on his shoulder, staring at the back of Felix's head as you drove to the house.

"You'll be fine here, no one can get in here, it's all secure," Chan said as he stood in your door, you were laid in the bed dressed in an oversized shirt and some shorts. You hadn't stopped shaking since the moment you left the hotel and he still hadn't told you what happened with his ex. Just that she was dead and it was Namjoon's fault. You were more scared of Namjoon than you ever had been of Chan,

"Get some sleep, we'll talk in the morning. Seungmin is right outside if you need him." You nodded at him and he turned to leave the room without another word.

"Goodnight." You called out and he nodded at you, saying it back before leaving the room quietly, shutting the door behind him.

You laid there for an hour while you listened to the wind and rain outside, the thunder started and you wanted to cry. Thunderstorms used to make you calm but tonight it seemed to make everything scarier, like in a horror movie. Every sound made you think it was someone trying to break into the mansion, specifically your bedroom. You got out of the bed and snuck out of the door, Seungmin was asleep so you could sneak out of the door without being heard. You tapped on the bedroom door belonging to Chan but there was no response, you were about to turn back when thunder clapped so loudly you jumped. Rushing into the room the door banged, he jumped up and pointed a gun at you thinking you were an intruder,

"Chan!" You held up your hands to make him see that you were free of any weapon, and that you weren't going to hurt him, but you let out a whimper as he kept it tracked on you,

"I'm sorry." You whispered, turning to stare at him. He was wearing a black t-shirt and some shorts, he shook his head and stared at you, panicked that something was wrong.

"I'm sorry! Did you hear something?" He questioned you, he got up from the bed to get closer to you.

"No, no." You whispered, shaking your head and looking around his room, it was the one room you hadn't been in yet.

"Do you want me to put the gun away?" You nodded frantically, slowly lowering your hands down now that he knew who it was in his bedroom this late at night.

"Yes please." He took the gun and put it away in the drawer beside his bed and cleared his throat, rubbing the back of your head as you got closer to him.

"What's wrong?" He sat down on the bed and you walked into the room sitting down beside him.

"I'm scared, he said he'd kill me, Chan." You admitted and he sighed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and drawing you closer to him,

"What if he gets me?"

"I won't let it happen. I won't let him anywhere near you, you're mine and I'm going to protect you." He repeated, pulling you to lay down on the bed with him. He spooned you and began tracing patterns into your skin as a way of trying to calm you down. You let the 'you're mine' comment pass, it felt nice for him to say that to you right now, it was something you needed to hear.

"I promise." He kissed your shoulder blade and you closed your eyes, feeling safe and protected around him enough to fall asleep for the first time all night.

"Get some sleep. I promise to protect you." He kissed your shoulder again and you hummed, shuffling back towards him wanting him to hold you closer. But you turned around to face him instead, deciding now would be a good time to question him since you weren't tired.

"Aren't you scared of him?" He shook his head and ran his hand over your cheek, tracing his thumb along your skin as he stared into your eyes. He had to be strong to you even if it meant telling you he wasn't scared when he was.

"He holds no power over me, I don't care about him but if he comes anywhere near you-" Your hand on his cheek calmed him down, you could see him growing more and more agitated, but he was shocked that you'd touched him like this. All the other times you seemed to move away but you were willing, getting close to him and touching him willingly.

"Thank you for protecting me, not just with Namjoon but with that guy at the party." He nodded, the guy had been locked in the basement the moment the boys got him home and Chan was planning on dealing with him in the morning.

"Anything for you." You looked at him, your eyes glancing from his to his lips trying to fight back the feeling of wanting to kiss him but it was hard. You close your eyes and leant in and he leant down pressing his lips against yours. As soon as he kissed you the world fell away, it was all slow and soft something you'd never thought would happen to you, it felt like it was something from the books you'd read as a teenager. It was comforting and his hand fell away from your face and to your hip, dragging your body closer to him so there was no space between you any more. You could feel his heart beating against your chest as he brought you closer, pulling away and running his thumb along your bottom lip.

"Do it again," You begged him to kiss you one more time, your mind blank as your heart took over your actions. He pressed his lips against yours, the world falling away in an instant, but this time the kiss was hot and full of passion. His tongue ran along the seam of your lips and you parted them for him wanting nothing more than to make out with him all night. The kiss was sloppy and you could taste the scotch you'd both been drinking that night. You wrapped your arm around his neck and he chuckled, pulling away from you not wanting to take things too far too soon.

"Enough for one night," He placed a gentle kiss on your lips again to satisfy you and you shifted on the bed, laying your head on his chest to fall asleep while listening to his heartbeat. He laid on his back looking at the ceiling while he listened to your breathing trying to make it the focus of his thoughts. As long as you were still breathing he had something to fight for, something to stop him going after Namjoon right away and coming up with some kind of plan. For you it felt safe right next to him, it was strange and didn't make sense in your head but your heart was telling you it felt right to be there with him no matter what he'd done. The kiss had been too good for you to ignore the chemistry between you both. He kissed the top of your head as your eyes got too heavy to keep them open any longer, and you stopped fighting to keep them open, drifting away into the best night's sleep you or Chan had ever had in the longest time.

Tagline: My fantastic and wonderful editor I would be nowhere without! @moonprincessdiviniation​ @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @calling-dips-on-j-hope​ @hugs4chan​ @ncitythoughts​ @inseonqt​ @cloudsgathering​ @atletino​ @mischiefmakerliesmith5​ @freckledquokka @happygirl327​

[thetravelerwrites]

Dr. Mael Halvorg (Part 2)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationship: Male Part Fae/Female Part Fae Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Fae, Naga, Reader Insert, Anthropology, Genetics Content Warnings: Children, Pregnancy, Incubation, Infertility, Birth, Oviposition, Egg-Laying Words:

Commissioned by @ivymemnoch​! The reader and Dr. Halvorg discuss his lingering infertility problem. Amai lays her final clutch of eggs. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“Good morning, class!” You said on the first day.

“Good morning!” Fourteen bright voices responded.

All of the children except for baby Yenu were sitting on their tails behind desks in a room that had been set up as a classroom by the staff.

“So, every day each week we’re going to work on a different subject,” You began. “Mondays are reading and language comprehension, Tuesdays are maths and sciences, Wednesdays are social studies and economics, Thursdays are geography and history, Fridays are fun days with arts, crafting, music, and educational games. Today is Monday, so we’re going to start with reading. You should each have a workbook appropriate to your developmental level in your desks, so please take out your reading workbooks.”

As the children shuffled and searched for the right book, Dr. Halvorg stepped inside the classroom with a clipboard. You raised an eyebrow.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“I’m observing the children in a school setting to see how they adapt,” He replied.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And I’m also assuming how I teach, correct?”

He dipped his head sheepishly. “I was curious. And it’s for my research.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Mm.” You turned back to your students and fell into your teacher’s voice. “Keenai, if you would begin reading the first sentence, please?”

Keenai picked up his workbook and started reading. “The small dog lives in a red house.”

“Can you tell me which of these words are verbs?”

“Um…” He looked at the sentence, frowning.

“To remind you, a verb is an action word, something someone does.”

“Uh… lived?” He replied slowly.

“Very good.” You said, and he smiled in relief. “Tani, you’re next. Read the next sentence in your book.”

“The red house was built on a wed… wedeness…”

“Wednesday,” You said. “That’s a hard word, I know. Can you tell me what the noun is in that sentence?”

“House?”

“Good! A noun is a person, a place, or a thing. I’m a noun, you’re a noun, the room we’re in is a noun.”

“Is Nenish a noun?” Jinsa asked.

“Yes.”

“Ha ha, you’re a noun!” Jinsa said, pointing at Nenish.

“So are you!” Nenish interjected.

“Hey, hey! Settle down, please!” You called over them, sitting on the edge of your desk. “Fuma, you next.”

Fuma read from his book, and then Amaia. Next, you went down the line of the four-year-olds, having them read a sentence and find colors, shapes, numbers, or sounds in the sentences. The three-year-olds were next, and they simply read small sentences. You then had the one-year-olds spell and say three-letter words.

Their quick development was normal for nagas, as they tended to age quickly until they hit puberty, when their aging progress slowed to accommodate for yearly hibernation, but it was also startling in conjunction with the developmental levels of similar creatures. You had never studied the advancements of a species’ young so closely before, and you had to admit, it was fascinating. You could see why Dr. Halvorg found it so interesting.

You set the children writing tasks appropriate to their learning level and took a moment to talk to Dr. Halvorg, who was scribbling quickly in a notebook.

“They have computers now that you can write on, you know,” You told him, amused.

He looked up over his glasses at you and quirked an eyebrow. “I am aware of that, thank you. I’m not quite so old-fashioned as I seem, regardless of what Amai might tell you.” He looked back down and continued scribbling. “I’m a chronic note-taker. A bad habit I can’t seem to break, though with my profession, it’s often a strength rather than a weakness.”

“Hmm,” You hummed. “And what do your notes say about my teaching?”

“Adequate,” He replied, still scribbling. “Don’t misunderstand, that’s not a criticism. I hold everyone to an extremely high standard. If you hadn’t met expectations, I would have dismissed you.”

“So I meet your expectations?” You asked sardonically.

“At the moment,” He said, snapping his book closed and standing up. “I still want to observe your other classes before I’m completely satisfied.”

“Hmm,” You said again.

True to his word, Halvorg attended every class that week, observing you interacting with the children. Other than a question or two about your future curriculum, he stayed quiet. At the end of the week, he asked that you submit a weekly progress report until you either found a replacement or were dismissed.

It seemed excessive to you, and you were beginning to wonder if he still saw the children as an experiment. He seemed to care about them, but how much of that was genuine and how much of it was his own self-interest? You were starting to feel leery of and disconcerted by him.

Perhaps he picked up on this, because he seemed to go out of his way to avoid you. He had you direct all of your questions and reports to his assistant and rarely picked up his phone. Any conversations were brief and succinct. He did send you notes on your curriculum, making suggestions for each child. If you weren’t already suspicious of his motives, you might almost have though it sweet.

“I think Halvorg is avoiding me,” You told Amai when the two of you went to lunch together. Now that the two of you could hang out after all the years, you made it a point to set time aside for each other and had lunch at least once a week.

“What makes you say that?” Amai asked, drizzling dressing over her starter salad.

“Ever since he watched me teach classes, he’s barely spoken to me. He seemed excited to exchange research notes when I first arrived, but now he seems to have no interest in speaking to me since he finished observing class.”

“He could just be busy,” Amai suggested. “The four year old’s birthdays are coming up. He always does something special for the kids on their birthdays.”

“Are you concerned that he only sees your children as test subjects?” You asked her. “He seems obsessed with them.”

Amai laughed. “I thought that way in the early days, but he genuinely loves kids. If anything ever happened to me or Yenuno, I’m confident Halvorg would take care of them.” She took a sip of her mineral water. “Are you coming to the kids party? You’re invited, obviously.”

“Will there be clowns? I hate clowns.”

She snorted. “Nothing so gauche. I think Halvorg set up a treasure hunt. The kids always love whatever he plans. Honestly, I know I complain about him, but he does make it easy for me sometimes. I haven’t had to plan any major events since the kids hatched.”

“Hmm… I don’t know. It’s strange to me how involved he is.”

Amai sat back in her seat and eyed you shrewdly. “Did he ever tell you about his son?”

You looked up in surprise. “Son? I thought you said he had no children.”

“He doesn’t… technically.” Amai set her fork down. “You didn’t hear this from me so don’t repeat it, but he had a wife nearly a hundred years ago who cheated on him. He raised a boy, thinking he was his son, but the child was actually fathered by the other man. His wife left him and took the boy with her and he never saw him again. I don’t think he ever got over that.”

“Oh, god,” You replied, horrified. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

“He’s spend the last several decades saving dying races from the brink of extinction. In a way, he thinks of those children he helped bring into the world as his children, too. And every time he has to let them go, it’s like losing his son all over again. I think the fact that he gets to help raise our babies is something of a gift for him. Trust me, it’s not something he takes for granted.”

“I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that,” You said in dismay.

“Halvorg is stuffy, strict, and a stickler for protocols, so he can be difficult to read, but I assure you, he loves my children as if they were his own. It may have started as research, but he has a family now and I think that’s what he wanted all along. Try not to judge him to harshly.”

You conceded with a nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The following Saturday, you attended the kids birthday party as requested. The kids were excited and zooming around the receiving area, shrieking and laughing, all of them wearing party hats and nothing else. Amaia was piggy-backing on Dr. Halvorg, her tail wrapped around his waist for stability and her arms hugged around his neck. Dr. Halvorg walked around completely normally, as if this was a typical action and he was used to it. He watched the children playing with a wide, fond grin on his face.

You walked over to Amai and Yenuno, who were watching from the refreshments table with Yenu, feeding her crackers.

“Nothing like a little bit of chaos in the morning,” You said.

They laughed.

“You’ve never seen them after a group kill,” Yenuno said. “They’re uncontrollable after they’ve taken down an elk together. It’s pretty incredible to watch for me, personally. Nagas in the wild typically don’t work together and they especially don’t hunt together, not even siblings.”

“They are very close and friendly, for nagas,” You remarked. “Markedly different to most snake-related species I’ve met.”

“It’s Amai’s blood and influence that’s doing it, I’m sure,” Yenuno said, kissing his wife’s cheek. “She’s the most friendly and cheerful person I’ve ever met.”

“To be fair, sweetie, you haven’t met all that many people,” Amai said, laughing.

“That is fair,” Yenuno conceded. “My point stands, though.”

“Alright children, gather ‘round!” Halvorg called, and they flocked to him, swirling around him like a whirlpool. “Now, you guys are going to split up into teams to help Nenish, Tahara, and Sadji find their gifts. Nenish will have Tani, Jinsa, and Keenai on his team. Tahara will have Amaia, Osan, Ishni, and Dashu on his team. And Khuzho, Chidil, Fuma, and Itheti will be on Sadji’s team.” He handed a small leaflet to each team. “Follow the clues to find the treasures! Go!”

The kids scattered, giggling madly.

“Come get something to drink and rest for a minute, Halvorg!” Yenuno called. “I think you’ve earned it.”

Halvorg grinned boyishly, an expression that brightened his face and made him look… well… rather handsome. He jogged over to the table and had a ginger ale. Elves have hypermobile ears, and his ears were high and wiggling slightly, a normal indication in elvish peoples of happiness and excitement.

“I think they’ll really enjoy their gifts this year,” Halvorg said, taking sips of his soda. “And the treasure hunt is half the fun. It’s challenging, but not too difficult. If they work together, it should be no trouble at all.”

“You didn’t get them history books like last year, did you?” Amai asked with her eyes narrowed. “You might as well have burned the money you spent on those for all the use they got out of them.”

“No, I learned my lesson,” He said defensively. “I bought toys.”

“Educational toys?” Amaia asked shrewdly.

He stopped mid-sip and looked at Amaia with an eyebrow raised. “…maybe,” He said into his cup.

Amaia rolled her eyes. “At least Yenuno and I ordered some stuff the kids will like.”

“You don’t know that they won’t like them,” I said. “I loved educational toys.”

“Yeah, but you’re a nerd,” Amaia said, poking you playfully.

“So what? Your kids could be nerds, too. I’m pretty sure Osan is going to be a Star Wars fan. He’s been talking my ear off about the Mandalorian.”

“It’s so strange,” Amaia said, ignoring your response and looking off in the distance. “I thought that because the kids were hatched in clutches, they would be like twins or triples or the like and have similar interests and personalities, but they’re all so different. Different likes, different traits, different styles. It’s amazing.”

“It amazes me, too,” Yenuno said, staring into his drink with a wistful expression. “My siblings and I separated when we were young, so I don’t know what they were like or if we had similar interests. Honestly, until recently, I never gave them a thought. Watching my children work together… it makes me wonder what my own siblings were like, and if they’d still be alive today if we had helped each other.”

There was a contemplative silence for a few minutes, broken by excited voices reentering the receiving area.

“We found it!” Tahara said, holding up a wrapped gift. The other four were carrying smaller treat bags that had their names written on them. “Uncle Maël, look!”

“Excellent! Well done!” Halvorg said, bending to give Tahara a hug. “Now, let’s wait until your brothers return with their gifts before we open them, okay? How about you five play tag until then?”

“Okay!” Tahara said.

“I’ll play with you,” Yenuno said. “I’m starting to get fat, preparing for the incubation period.” He patted Amai’s belly, which carried his three eggs, likely to be the last clutch they’d have together.

“How soon?” You asked Amai as Yenuno took off to chase with his children.

“Any day,” Amai said with a weary sigh. “And I’m ready for it. These little guys are heavy.”

“Boys or girls?”

“We won’t know until they hatch. It’s too hard to get a clear picture with the ultrasound, and besides, even if it could, both the male and female genitalia are internal, so it’s nearly impossible to tell.” She took a sip of ginger ale. “We’re really hoping for at least one girl. Don’t get me wrong, we love the boys more than anything, but we’d like Amaia and Yenu to have some sisters.”

“I’d like to be present for the laying, if that’s okay,” You said.

“For your research?” She asked.

Your head rocked back. “No, because you’re my friend and I want to be there for you.”

Amai smiled fondly. “Oh. Of course, thank you.”

Dr. Halvorg had not added anything to the conversation with you and Amai, and instead went to the table and made a plate of snacks. You gave Amai a look and a cocked eyebrow, and she nodded understanding, slipping away from her spot to watch her husband and children play.

“Dr. Halvorg?”

He flinched and looked up, glancing around furtively and noticing that the two of you were alone. “Yes?”

“Why are you avoiding me?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again before responding, “I’m doing no such thing.”

“I’ve requested at least three meetings with you this past month, and you’re always too busy,” You said dryly.

“Well, I am,” He said, turning. “If you’ll excuse me…”

“Are you avoiding me because I asked you out?” You asked bluntly.

He missed a step in his stride and stopped.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I should have realized from your professional demeanor that you wouldn’t be open to interoffice dating. I apologize.”

Halvorg sighed and turned to face you. “It’s not that. Not exactly, I mean.” He set his plate on the table and looked you full in the face for the first time in weeks. “I haven’t given a thought to dating in…” He rubbed his forehead. “Gods… decades. The question took me off guard, of course, and I actually had to sit down and give it some thought. I’ve been wrapped up in my work, of course, but I think I was just distracting myself.”

“From what?”

He sat on the edge of the table and crossed his arms. “It’s hard to talk about. I don’t even really talk about it with Yenuno, and I would consider him my closest friend.” He sighed heavily and avoided your eye. “I’ve ignored my personal life in favor of spending my career and fortune in this century helping races achieve something I want for myself.”

“Children?” You guessed.

He nodded a little morosely. “Not just that, but that is a significant part of it. I’ve been following the reproduction rates of Celtic fae since the fae were originally integrated and it’s decreasing year by year. I live in constant fear that my own race will be extinct in my lifetime.” He quirked his head at you. “Your race still seems to be fairly prolific, is that correct?”

“Oh yeah, I have a bunch of brothers and a truckload of cousins. No problems there.”

He sighed. “I don’t know what the problem with my race is. I’ve studied genetic traits, magical impediments, marriage and divorce rates, and ratio of coupling to conceptions.The numbers are terrible and I don’t know why. That’s what drives me crazy. I hate not having an answer.”

“Have there been miscarriages?”

“No, that’s the crazy thing, the rate of conception is extraordinarily low. I think there have only been three live births of Celtic fae blood in the last year.”

“Oh, jeez,” You said, sitting against the table next to him. “I didn’t realize the problem was that severe. Have you considered whether it might be a physical problem?”

“How do you mean?”

“Have you ever done a sperm count? Or had an MRI of the area to see if there’s a blockage? That kind of thing can be genetic and men tend to be shy about stuff like that.”

He tilted his head and frowned. “No, I haven’t. It actually hadn’t occurred to me. Honestly, I’ve been so focused on my work to distract myself, it may have worked too well and I ignored such things.” He looked at you and smiled. “You’ve given me something to think about.”

You smiled back. “Good. I wonder if the females of the race have a similar issue. It may have been something bred into the people over time, over centuries.”

“That’s possible,” He said. “There’s certainly a precedent; some creatures have been bred to extinction. Remember the pug?”

“That tiny dog breed with the squashed face?” You said. “Yeah, they died out a while ago, didn’t they?”

He nodded. “That was human interference, though. Yenuno’s people were dying out due to antisocialism; too reclusive to even propagate their own species. Yenuno was the only one of his kind to take up this project, and even he was reluctant.”

“He seems happy now,” You remarked.

“Yeah,” Halvorg said softly, watching Yenuno laughing and chasing his kids with a sad kind of jealousy. “He does.”

You watched his face, the deep, deep sadness creasing his face and making him look older than he was.

“Follow up, Halvorg, see a specialist. This may have a fix that didn’t exist the last time you tried.”

He nodded, smiling at you, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I will.”

As you stood up, you bumped his shoulder lightly. “Thank you for talking to me. I appreciate that you trusted me enough to discuss such a sensitive subject. I get the feeling that you don’t share yourself with many people.”

He laughed. “No, not really.” He looked up with a smile that seemed more sincere. “Thank you for listening.”

Amai went into labor three days later. She was taken to the laying room, where both Yenuno and Dr. Halvorg were present in addition to the interspecies OBGYN. You were suited up in scrubs and the paper gowns that surgeons wear, as was everyone else in the room besides Amai, who was completely naked, and Yenuno, who never wore clothing. There were natal heart monitors on her belly and an EKG hooked up to her chest.

Amai was sitting on a specially designed chair that would allow her to pass the eggs through her birth canal and into the waiting arms of the doctor. She was already sweating and panting by the time you arrived. The OBGYN and Dr. Halvorg were having a quiet conversation. You went to the other side of Amai and took her hand, trying not to wince when she nearly crushed your fingers.

“Is she okay?” You asked in alarm.

“She’s not fully dilated yet,” Halvorg said, pulling his braid into a surgical cap. “The eggs are getting impatient, it seems.”

“Yeah, well, so am I, so they can settle the fuck down!” Amai shrieked at him.

He bore the abuse with no reaction other than a wry smile. Yenuno wisely said nothing and simply wiped Amai’s forehead with a cloth.

“It won’t be long,” the OBGYN said. “She’s almost there.”

“Just saw me open and get them out,” Amai moaned. “It would hurt less.”

Yenuno tried to kiss her cheek, but she swatted him away weakly.

“No,” She said peevishly. “No touching ever again.”

“You said that last time,” He said, smiling fondly.

“Yeah, but I mean it this time,” She said sulkily.

“Of course you do, darling.” He patted her head. She scrunched her face up at him in annoyance. She was always adorable when she was miffed.

“I’ll make you into shoes,” She said sourly. “And a matching purse.”

It took a while for Amai to dilate fully, and by then she was very tired. Yenuno was looking worried; she’d laid several eggs over the years and never struggled this much before. Perhaps this being their last clutch was a good idea.

“Okay, I think we can start pushing now,” The doctor said, getting ready to catch the eggs. “Amai, when you feel the next contract, hold your breath, bear down, and push.”

“Okay,” She breathed. “One’s coming.”

We all braced for the push. Amai took several quick deep breaths and held it, her face pulled tight in pain and effort, doubling over in the chair as she did. You and Yenuno held her hands and patted her back and murmured encouragement. Halvorg was waiting with a soft cloth to take the eggs for cleaning, after which they would be laid in a specialized incubating carrier to be taken to Yenuno’s cottage.

The first egg came slowly and with much screaming. The doctor caught it and handed it off to Halvorg. The shell of the egg was soft and needed extremely delicate care, but Halvorg was well practiced by now and got the egg washed and into the carrier under ninety seconds and returned for the next.

The second egg came more quickly, but Amai screamed the whole time. By the time the third and final egg was laid, her voice was raw and she was too exhausted to scream.

But it was over. She fell back into the recline of the chair as if boneless and breathed in shallowly, her eyes barely open.

“You were amazing, darling,” Yenuno said gently, kissing Amai’s face. “Rest. I’m taking the eggs to the cottage. The children will visit you when you’ve slept.”

She turned her head slowly to look at him and touched her fingertips to his face, tracing down his cheek, chin, neck and chest before letting her hand fall back to her side, and her eyes closed. Nurses came to whisk her away to a recovery room, the OBGYN following behind. Yenuno and Halvorg left to take the eggs to the cottage for the incubation, and you were left alone in the laying room.

As you were shedding the paper gown and surgical cap, you noticed a small book lying on the ground. It looked to be one of Halvorg’s research journals, though it was smaller than his usual ones. He must have dropped it out of his back pocket when he was disrobing. You picked it up and took it with you with the intent on returning it to him in the morning.

And of course, you’d completely forgotten by the time you woke up.

Amai recovered enough in a few days to be up and walking around. She and the children took turns keeping Yenuno company, as he grew morose if he was left alone too long. You had declared half days until the new babies hatched so that they could have more time with their dad.

One afternoon, after the children had left class for the day, Dr. Halvorg came in and sat on the edge of your desk.

“Hello,” You said pleasantly, closing the folder with their latest work for grading. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I wanted to let you know I took you up on your advice,” He said, looking a little bashful. “I went and saw a specialist. They’re going to be doing some tests soon. Sperm count, blood tests, an MRI. Any test that can be done will be done.”

“Good!” You said, swinging your chair around. “I’m glad. Maybe you’ll finally get an answer.”

He sighed, looking pensive and anxious. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but I still wanted to thank you for pushing me to do it.”

“I didn’t push you to do it, Maël,” You said. His eyes narrowed at your use of his first name, but he didn’t say anything. “I just brought the subject up. It was your decision to do it.”

“Well, thank you all the same,” He replied. “I admit, I’m nervous about it. I could either get wonderful news or have my worst fears confirmed. I don’t know how I’ll react to either option.”

“Would you like me to come with you?” You asked him.

He looked at you in surprise. “You… you don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t,” You replied. “But this is the kind of thing you need friends for. And since Yenuno is tied up with the eggs, I could be a good substitute. You don’t even have to think of me as a friend, if you don’t want to, just an emotional support associate.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I think of you as a friend.”

“Well, thank you. I was hoping we’d get there eventually. So? What do you think? Want some support for this?”

“Not for the tests, I can do those by myself perfectly well,” He said, adjusting his tie nervously. “But… for the results… perhaps… a friend would be nice.”

“I’ll be there for you, then,” You said, standing and patting his arm. “Does Yenuno know about this? Have you talked to him about it?”

“No,” He replied. “I didn’t want to tell him while he’s dealing with his own new babies. Besides, if the news is not good, I don’t want people feeling sorry for me. If the news comes back positive… I don’t know… I think this is one thing I’d rather keep to myself.”

“Except for me, you mean,” You said.

He nodded concedingly. “Besides you.”

“Let me know when the results come back and I’ll go with you. We’ll make a day of it, go to a spa, get a bikini wax together, eat some overpriced salads, buy something ridiculous we want but don’t need. It’ll be a blast.”

He actually laughed a little. “Sounds like a plan.”

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[songbirdsingingthings]

Beachy Keen - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO KOHEI HORIKOSHI

When you first met the blonde-haired boy, you never thought that he knew what being relaxed and carefree felt like. He exuded self-confidence and was always fired-up, but you could tell that it came from a deep place of longingness, anger, and insecurity. You knew enough of Midoriya and Bakugou’s past to know that their once friendly childhood became a toxic relationship pretty quickly. You understand where both boys were coming from. Izuku, who hadn’t developed his quirk for the most part of his childhood, was always there to lend a helping hand - especially to Bakugou. Then, years later, all of a sudden Bakugou wasn’t the star of his middle school. And the explosive boy, the pride and joy of all of those around him, all of a sudden did not meet the criteria of “future number one hero”. The years of showered affections, constant praise, and “can I have your autograph for the future?”s all ceased to exist now. However, both boys, at least to you, were nice. Well, Midoriya was nice, Bakugou was just kind of civil - which was a lot to ask for from the hero-in-training.

It was currently your second year at UA and all of the students had a long weekend off due to most of the teachers attending a hero banquet. Momo, being the sweet girl she is, wanted to splurge a bit on her friends and take them all to their family’s beach house on the coast of Okinawa. Everyone was so excited, especially you. You hadn’t had the opportunity to go to the beach in ages and you couldn’t wait to feel the soft sand in between your toes, feel the salty wind on your face, and relish in the yummy seafood. The school graciously allowed your class to take one of the buses and provided you with a cleared driver.

“Alright everyone! Make sure you have your luggage and double check for sunscreen! We do not want any sunburns and make sure to bring sunglasses if you have light eyes - the sun’s rays can be very damaging!” Iida said, listing his final instructions before the students boarded the bus.

“So Y/N, who are you rooming with now that Hagakure’s sick?” Ochaco asked you sweetly, stuffing her big trunk into the bottom of the bus.

“No one, I guess. I think I still get to keep the room,” you say, sticking your suitcase neatly next to hers. You step onto the bus and find a seat that was next to Mina and across from Kirishima and Bakugou.

“Oh, Y/N! Hey!” Mina said cheerily, giving you a smile.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” You ask, setting your carry-on backpack at your feet.

“Oh nothing, just Bakugou sulking as usual!” Mina responds, nudging your elbow and motioning over to the boy across from you. You were kind of confused. No one had done anything recently to get him into this pissed off state.

“Well… what poked the beast?” You said quietly to the pink-haired girl next to you. 

“Kirishima had to pull out of rooming with him because he had forgotten that he promised he would room with Sero, and now he doesn’t have a room.” Mina said, rustling around in her own bag to fish out her phone.

“Huh,” you say. “Have you asked Momo if there’s another room?” You ask, now facing the boys across from you.

“Tch, what do you think? I’m not an idiot,” he says, kind of glaring at you. You knew that there was only one solution to this predicament since you didn’t want Bakugou sleeping on the couch in one of the many living rooms. That would give anyone a bad back, and for Bakugou, an even worse temper.

“U-um, you can room with me since Hagakure can’t make it.” Bakugou looked at you incredulously and Kirishima gave him a wild grin.

“That’s a GREAT idea Y/N! Quick thinking!” Kirishima applauded.

“Have you dumbasses lost your minds?! There’s no way I’m rooming with her!” He exclaims. It kind of hurt you that you could basically see steam coming from his ears due to how mad and opposed to the proposition of the two of you sharing a room. You were about to respond but Mina beat you to the chase.

“Well Bakugou, what other option do you have? Breaking your back and not being able to enjoy anything on this vacation?” The pink-haired girl retorted, sticking up for you. You shoot her a grateful smile and turn back to Bakugou.

“I’m sure that there’ll be two separate beds and we can stagger times in the room if you want.” You assure him, trying to convince him. Bakugou leans his head back, closes his eyes, and sighs.

“Fine. But I swear to god, if there aren’t two beds I’m going to lose my mind.”

Spoiler alert, there weren’t two beds, but a single queen size bed in the newly cleaned room. You drop your bags in shock and slowly turn your head to see Bakugou’s, who was right next to yours. If Bakugou was mad then he was doing a fine job hiding it because all you could see was a blank expression.

“I-I can see if Momo has a blow-up mattress and I can sleep on that.” You say quickly, trying not to make him uncomfortable. Bakugou simply shakes his head as he rolls his suitcase onto the left side of the bed.

“Don’t be stupid. There’s enough space for each of us, and if you think I’m gonna let you suffer after… doing this then you're wrong.” He says bluntly, already starting to unpack his clothes. You should’ve made yourself look away and not be so nosy, because when you caught a glimpse of a pair of grey boxers, you could’ve sworn that your face lit up like a Christmas tree. You tugged your suitcase along with you to the right side and put away all of your clothes into the side dresser but kept out a simple orange bikini set for later that day. After the two of you finished unpacking, you made your way to the main living room to see the rest of the class lounging on the plush sofas. 

“So, who’s ready to hit the beach?” Momo asked, earning cheers from the class.

Their day on the sand covered shore was nothing short of divine. You all played beach volleyball, went swimming, and even tanned for a bit until the sun started to set, and then you all headed back to the beach house. For the first night, you, Sero, Jirou, Koda, and Todoroki were in charge of dinner. You decided to do an easy pasta bar so that everyone got to pick out what they wanted. After promising to be careful, Momo allowed the class to eat while sitting on the couches and watching a movie, which ended up being Clueless, much to Kaminari and Mineta’s protests to instead watch a more mature rated film. You ended up sitting next to Bakugou, but the two of you didn’t talk much - you were much more invested in the movie playing on the flatscreen. The class decided to pause halfway through to get some dessert which were pre-packaged ice cream cones. Out of nowhere, Bakugou called your name and tossed you one. You looked up at him with a raised brow which just caused Bakugou to scoff in response.

“You like (favorite flavor) the best, so I thought you’d want it.” He says plainly, grabbing a vanilla cone for himself. You gave him a smile.

“Thank you Bakugou, that was really kind of you,” you say sweetly as the two of you head back to your spots on the couch.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“YES! FINALLY!” Mina cheered as Cher and Josh kissed on the staircase. The scene even warranted cheers from some of the boys. Josh’s gesture made you melt as you gently sank into the couch. That is, until your shoulders were met with something hard. You turned your head to see Bakugou’s arm which was there, but he retreated it immediately. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, eyes still facing the screen.

Okay, he is acting weird. First the ice cream and now this? He wouldn’t normally apologize for something like this. You shake the thought from your mind as you help the rest of the class clean up after the movie finished and turn off the lights. You made your way back to your room, only to see Bakugou in nothing but his boxers. The grey boxers. Flustered, you turn around and cover your face with your hands.

“Sorry sorry sorry!” You squeal, voice muffled by your palms. “I’ll wait til you’re changed.”

“I am. This is what I sleep in.” He responds as you hear him lift the covers and let them fall back on his bare chest. Your body temperature must’ve risen by at least 10 degrees because you felt like you were about to faint.

“O-oh.” You force yourself to turn around and grab your pajamas, booking it to the bathroom to change in privacy. You were horrified by what was in your hands. Your pajamas were the only somewhat skimpy set you owned - tiny little shorts with lacy on the bottom and a tank top with lace for the straps. Swallowing the large lump in your throat, you forced yourself into the set and then looked at yourself in the mirror.

If Bakugou can be fine wearing just boxers around me, then I can certainly be fine with wearing a tank top and shorts around him. After giving yourself a reassuring nod, you march yourself back into your room, stuff your clothes from the day in a hamper, and get into bed next to the blonde. You weren’t facing him so you couldn’t see, but his cheeks danced with an ever so slight shade of red. 

“Okay so how is this gonna work,” You ask, looking between him and the space in between the two of you.

“You stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine.” He states, looking into your eyes for approval. Giving a nod, you turn so your back is facing him and turn off your light. You try to make yourself feel comfortable in the silky sheets, but your entire body is freezing. You really should’ve packed better pajamas. A few minutes pass as your body is shaking until Bakugou speaks up.

“Oi, dumbass, what’s wrong with you?” He asks. As rude as his words could’ve been interpreted, you knew they came from a place of caring, so you turned around to face him, only for your noses to be just mere inches away from the other.

“I-I’m just cold I’ll be fine.” You say meekly, trying to avert your eyes and look at anything else in the room.

“Tch, sure.” He says simply, turning away from you this time. An uncomfortable silence graces the two of you until the boy decides to break it again.

“You looked better than usual today. In the orange.” You hear him say softly. Your breath hitched as your brain comprehended the words, making your cheeks turn red. “And your taste in ice cream flavors is at least respectable.” You couldn't help it - you giggled at his words. This made Bakugou whip around to face you as your hand went up to cover your mouth. “What the hell? I’m trying to give you a compliment and be nice and shit dumbass!” He growls, giving you a glare. You manage to calm yourself down but keep a huge grin on your face.

“I know, and it’s really, really sweet but seriously? Ice cream? That’s what makes you say ‘oh yes, that’s the girl I wanna date.’”. You were giggling again, but you were shocked when Bakugou let a little smile grace his face.

“Shut up, I’m new to this whole thing.” He says, smoothly wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You don’t flinch when his hand makes contact with your skin - it’s like it was natural to you.

“Katsuki Bakugou,” you say, a twinkle in your eyes, “I like you too.” 

“I-I didn’t say that!” He protests, slight panic in his eyes.

“You didn’t have to.” You finish, tucking a stray piece of hair away from his face. His response was to pull you close to him which made you panic a little this time.

“Relax,” he says, “you were cold and now you won’t be.” He says matter-of-factly. Your face settles into a dreamy smile as you lay your head against his broad chest. The beat of his heart lulled you into a peaceful sleep and Bakugou followed you shortl with  a stupid smile on his face. Lets just say, that for the rest of the trip, you two didn’t stray too far from each other. And Bakugou made sure to grab you a (favorite flavor) ice cream cone before anyone else could get to it first.

[cockasinthebird]

Laced up and ready to get dirty

Fingers tighten around the leather of the steering wheel, tensing till his knuckles go white then relaxing again. Deep breath in, then a long exhale. In… and out...

Steve is excited and thrilled and eager but also completely, devastatingly… nervous.

He angles the rearview mirror to look at himself and fidgets with his hair- not that it needs to be retouched for the fifteenth time today already, but it buys him time. Precious time to waste away on hesitation, and the longer he gets to hesitate, the less likely he is to actually.... He glances down the tan, buttoned up trench coat and triple checks that it’s closed all the way up and pulls on the belt to tighten it around his waist till he loses breath, JUST to be safe and secure.

It was a stupid spur-of-the-moment idea he got last week when he was visiting Hawkins to clear out whatever was left of his childhood home; his parents selling it now that Steve doesn’t live there anymore, all with such a lack of grace that shows they never really cared for that house, as if it was nothing more than a lavish cage for their only child. In a bag of clothes marked for donation - his father’s idea of philanthropy - Steve found an old Burberry trench coat, truly as fashionable and fitting now as it was back then, only difference being that as an adult who pays for everything himself, this coat would now be the most expensive thing in his and Billy’s entire apartment. Maybe he should have been more grateful for all that he had back then, or so his father would say whenever he found time to reprimand his son, but that wasn’t what he needed.

“Arrh, fuck!” Steve groans and rubs his face in hopes of recentering himself on the task at hand. He could mope around and be sad about his terrible father later, right now there’s more important things to do.

Such as opening the door to the same old BMW, the car soon on its last legs, having only survived this many years thanks for Billy’s expertise truly. It’s a bit colder out on the street than Steve expected, or maybe just a bit too windy, but he isn’t exactly wearing it to stay warm as much as he is to stay covered.

The hem of it grazes against the top of his suede boots as he takes decisive but careful steps around his car, now facing the open carport that exposes the inner works of the small service shop. It’s been almost a year since Billy got hired here as a mechanic, and it is possibly the happiest Steve’s ever seen him. Neither of them ever dreamed of big and important lives, no wanting to be a doctor or president or astronaut. All they wanted to be was happy, and they’ve found it in the simplest way possible.

He spots Billy immediately, past all the sweaty men, scattered car parts, and open hoods, he sees his boyfriend rise up from having just been shoulders deep in the guts of a shiny pontiac, coveralls tied around his waist, his white tank soaked with sweat, arms stained black with oil and grease.

The sight of it all sends delightful shivers down Steve’s entire body, ears to toes, and as he watches Billy wipe away sweat from his brow, well suddenly Steve’s far more confident in what he came here to do.

It shows in the way he marches towards Billy, who turns with a cocked brow at the assertive footsteps approaching him, where once he sees that it’s Steve demanding his attention, the most effortlessly smooth and charming smile spreads across his face, lids heavy to match the way Steve stares - something so salacious in the way his eyes glide up and down Billy’s dirty body, shiny with sweat.

“What are you doing here, princess?” Billy asks in a low and gravelly tone, quickly glancing around to see if anyone heard.

“Hmmm well…” Steve coos and plays lightly with the belt of his coat, the way his fingers flirt with the fabric hopefully clear with his intent, then speaks bluntly, “I woke up kinda horny today, y’know? Thought I’d save it for later- for when you come home, and tried distracting myself with doing the dishes or vacuum or anything really, but my hand just kept going down to jerk myself off-”

“Jesus Christ Stevie,” Billy breathes harshly.

“-and so eventually I wound up back in bed, on my knees, three fingers deep in me-” Steve wiggles said fingers for certain emphasis. “-but it just wasn’t enough. I need something thicker and veinier.”

With every word his stomach ties knots around itself, yet his dick is filled with life at how risky this is, with how much he needs to feel Billy pounding him sore and weak.

“And what do you want me to do about that?” Billy licks his lips, a hand reaching down to inconspicuously cup at his growing erection.

“I was hoping you could help me with my little problem? Ensuring that my engine is properly lubricated,” Steve’s naughty little smile fails at his own words, growing wider and betraying the sexy facade.

But it doesn’t seem that Billy minds as he laughs a bit too loud, biting his lower lip as if that would help keep his own smile more casual than one filled with exuberant joy. “You’re a menace- that was absolutely horrible,” he chuckles and brings both hands to his hips.

“Don’t be mean, I worked on it all the way here!” Steve’s own amusement bubbling over and into his voice.

Billy dares take a step closer, eyes slipping from Steve’s lips down his neck, pausing where he should be able to see the collar of a shirt. “You don’t have to try so hard for me, baby. Just tell me what you need, and maybe I can be of assistance.”

Steve’s expression dips back into something most indecent, his gaze burning with desire, pink lips parted as he slowly enunciates, “I need you to fuck me, hard and rough. I want your hands all over me, want your cock in me so fucking bad I think I might go insane without it. Please Billy, I-I can’t wait till you get home,” desperation seeps in as his tone goes almost whiny.

And Billy gapes like a fish, lips hesitating around emptiness as he tries to formulate thoughts. He glances around the shop, up at a clock hanging above the “Employees Only” sign, brow furrowed as he contemplates his options, all the while Steve waits as patiently as he can, pulling the belt tighter around his waist as if it would magically open up if he didn’t.

“Why don’t we… step into my office, and I’ll see what I can do?”

 Unfortunately by “office” Billy meant the blindingly bright, claustrophobically small employee bathroom. It’s maybe 6 by 6 feet large and not at all what Steve had in mind, but he’s not going to complain about the abnormally large mirror above the sink. And at least it looks clean… enough.

Steve’s quick to turn to Billy as soon as the lock clicks, grabbing on to the white tank and using it to guide him to sit down on the toilet.

Billy, however, disagrees with that immediately and moves to touch Steve, who just as swiftly grabs his wrist, restricting his reach. 

"Billy-" he starts off a bit agitated, but smoothes into something more agreeable, "Baby, if you get my coat dirty, you'll be eating cornflakes till you can afford to send it to the dry cleaner." 

The way Billy laughs at that is mocking in a sense, but his shitty grin simply reminds Steve of the thrill he felt back in high school, after they started fucking around but before they became serious about one another. 

"Forgot what a priss you can be sometimes, princess," he drawls and leans back, licking his lips as he settles with something vaguely familiar to patience.

“Hmmm…” Steve hums, slowly untying the belt of his coat. “You like that I’m high maintenance sometimes.”

He smoothly slips out of the heavy boots.

“Makes you feel real good about yourself though, getting to fuck someone with above average standards.”

In a show of how agile and limber he is, Steve stretches out his leg where the coat parts in front, and hooks his heel over Billy’s shoulder. Who in turn stares with a bit wider eyes at the silky soft, pastel pink nylon stockings clinging to Steve’s shin. Billy’s grip on his own thighs tighten with self restraint, the urge to touch the smoothness of Steve nearly unbearable.

“Did you shave your legs?”

“I did, for you.” Steve generally doesn’t care about leg hair, but found it a bit awkward looking when his thick, dark hairs stuck out of the bright nylon. “Wanna see what else I’ve shaved?”

Leisurely but with gentle pressure, Steve lets his foot glide down Billy’s chest, over his abs and all the sweat stains of his tank, past where the sleeves of his coveralls have been tied together, till he finds Billy’s hard cock tenting already, eliciting a lurid little hiss as he rubs it with the sole of his foot.

“God, you’re so easy, baby,” Steve speaks low with intent, drawing circles, revelling in the choked groans. “Getting you hard like this is effortless.”

At an all too agonizing pace, deliberate and mean, Steve unbuttons his coat from the bottom and up, exposing more and more of his thighs, the build up thrilling him as he watches how Billy sweats and struggles to remain dormant. Oh how he cannot wait to get the coat off and let his boyfriend ravage him completely, even the mere thought of it makes his own prick throb and beg for attention.

Billy stares with the most attention he’s probably ever shown any one person, eyes following the movement of Steve’s fingers, up and up and up, until a hint of lace gets revealed at the end of the stocking, cute and floral and feminine, a dozen small roses hugging the pale flesh, shiny straps leading further up to hide beneath the tan of the trench coat.

Steve caresses his thigh, hooking a finger beneath the strap and pulls it up only to let it snap back against his skin loudly, the sound reverberating, all the while never looking away from how Billy watches with intense hunger.

The burning gaze affixed to fingers follow right along, as Steve makes a bit of a jump and starts unbuttoning from the top now. One by one, till he runs his index along the hem, up to where it grazes against his neck, to pull slowly so that one shoulder can slip out, uncovering the strap of what can only be a bra, reaching down to hold on to delicate lace.

Harsh sighs escapes Billy as he attempts to control his breathing and himself, tongue darting out to wet his lips - Steve can feel the way Billy’s fat cock pumps full of blood beneath his foot.

There’s only two buttons left, and as one of them falls free, the coat drops down to bunch around Steve’s waist and the sink he’s leaning against, putting the pink, lacy bralette on full display; roses and leafs arranged into small triangles that sits tight against Steve’s pecks, his nipples just barely visible beneath the gorgeous and elegant fabric.

“Stevie, babe, please, I’m going to explode here,” Billy complains in an almost hilariously irritated manner, raising his hand up towards Steve’s thigh-

“No touching yet, I’m not done.” Steve swiftly kicks away that dirty hand.

“Thought you needed me to fuck you so bad,” the mocking response comes as Billy’s hand retreats to dig into his pocket.

And Steve pauses with his fingers around the final button that will unravel everything. “Well yes, but the thrill of anticipation gets me so hard.”

He pushes it out, wraps his hands around the coat and slowly pulls it apart, like a curtain revealing a true masterpiece of craftsmanship. And if Billy’s eyes were wide before, they’re now threatening to pop out at the sight of the garter belt attached to the stockings hugging Steve’s waist perfectly, and a thong matching the bralette in shape and lace, that might once have had a chance of containing all that Steve is, but now his long, full dick reaches up towards the belt with hard pride.

“Holy fucking shit,” Billy gapes, “I didn’t forget our anniversary or something, did I?”

Steve chuckles and blushes slightly at the attention and knowledge of just how stunning he looks. “Can’t I just surprise my boyfriend for no reason other than fun?”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m also sure you have some ulterior motive… not that I’m complaining.”

The sly smirk across Steve’s face suits him well as he slips out of the coat entirely, and reaches out to hang it on the hook attached to the bathroom door. Now fully exposed before Billy, Steve spreads his legs a bit further, runs his fingers lightly over the lace of his bra, and bats his eyes slowly.

Who stands up just as slowly, hesitantly, as if he’s still awaiting orders, as if Steve will tell him to stop and sit down any second now. When he reaches out Steve grabs his wrist, firm and assertive, but doesn’t linger in that moment; brings Billy’s hand up and up to touch his cheek, brushing fingers against pale skin and defiling it with dark smudges of oil. Still Steve doesn’t relent as he guides the hand down again till the rough palm presses against his throat, and Billy takes the opportunity immediately to squeeze.

A gasp hurries out at the sudden tightness around his airway and Steve’s eyes rolls back with the pleasure that jolts through his system, making his already painfully hard prick pulsate worse.

“Fuck, Billy…”

The other hand lands on his thigh, besmirching the pretty pink there, pushing into the soft flesh. As Steve closes his eyes to enjoy the euphoric, brutish hold he’s under, Billy dives in all tongue and teeth, biting at his lower lip and licking in to taste how sweet his spit is. Steve lifts up his free leg to hook it around Billy’s hips, drawing him in, finally allowing them both some heady friction, encouraged by strangled moans.

“Mmh- arrh, shit, pretty boy, this really couldn’t wait till I got home?” Billy growls against Steve’s lips, tickling as they brush together.

“I- mmh-ah, I wanted you dirty and risky like this,” Steve coos as low as he can and chases a kiss, but Billy leans away with such a shit eating grin. “Billy-” Another chase. “-Billy, please.”

“Don’t gotta beg, princess,” Billy’s laugh rumbles like thunder on a summer night; warm and deep and comforting

He takes a step back, Steve’s body instinctively trying to follow at the abrupt lack of touch, and with quick hands Billy undoes the way the sleeves are tied around his waist, unzips the rest of his coveralls that fall without effort to the floor, and pulls down his dark trunks enough for his steely cock to practically spring free.

The way Steve audibly inhales at the sight of it is almost humoristic, his body now acutely aware of everything that’s about to happen.

“How do you want it?” Billy drawls.

And it brings Steve back from the more indecent places his mind went at the sight of what he’s been hungering for all day. Half of him wants to drop to his knees and suck Billy dry till he’s delirious, the winning half however… He looks away for only as long as it takes him to retrieve the small and discreet bottle of lube from his coat pocket and pops it open before Billy can even speak again. He pours it into his own palm and closes his hand around Billy’s thick dick, stroking him quickly with impatience, slicking up every inch of hard flesh.

“I want you to fuck me from behind, bend me over the sink and pound my hole till I’m on the verge of tears,” Steve’s voice a lewd little thing, a salacious whisper only Billy would ever be found worthy of hearing, ghosting across his lips.

To which the only appropriate response Billy deem fit is to grab on to his boyfriend’s naked hips and spin him around, leaving clear, gross handprints that get smudged when those same hands smooth their way down to fill out with Steve’s ass.

Steve’s all too eager to bend down over the short sink, bracing himself on the porcelain edges as he watches how Billy admires the view through the mirror. The way those clear blue eyes stare down at his exposed self, tongue out to lick his lips like a wolf would before pouncing on an innocent lamb; it makes his heart beat faster, drowning his senses in quick waves of heavy lust.

“So pretty for me, baby, all laced up and fingered, wish you could see this.”

Billy gazes up through his lashes to meet Steve in their reflection. He grins with his tongue caught between teeth as he raises his hand just enough for Steve to have a moment of realisation before there’s a loud smack and stinging sensation.

“Mmh- ah! Fuck…” Steve barely manages to catch the moan with a bite of lips, his cock dripping with pre cum into the sink, whining with elation as the firm palm on his ass massages the red print.

A finger hooks itself on the slight string of the thong that runs between spread cheeks, pulls it aside, allowing Billy a good eyeful of Steve’s rim still wet with lube.

“You really just stood out in the shop in nothing but this, all slippery and ready for me to fuck your tight little hole with my fat cock?” He pulls on the fabric till it can’t stretch any further, wrapping it around a finger to allow himself freedom to grab on to Steve’s ass again. “Came all this way because you needed me to fill you up with my cum so bad.”

The blunt head of his cock lines up perfectly with Steve’s greedy entrance, and the poor, needy brunette can’t help but push against it, eyes fluttering closed as he slowly slides further and further along Billy’s dick, who hums with appreciation at the way the other is so willing to do all the work, velvety muscles clenching around him when he bottoms out.

“That good for you?” he asks kindly and squeezes Steve’s fleshy, pale cheeks.

Steve draws shallow circles with his ass pressed firmly against Billy’s hips, breathing in a manner that would be moans at home in bed, panting and sighing now; low drawn out hums. He sounds relieved, like Billy’s girthy cock was exactly what he needed, swallowing thickly as he nods, incapable of words lest they come out too loud.

Billy leans in to kiss up Steve’s shoulder, giving every mole on his way the attention they deserve, moves up his neck to the shell of his ear, snaking an arm around to hold Steve by the throat softly and tenderly.

“You’re so fucking tight, princess,” he purrs and nibbles at Steve’s ear as he leisurely starts moving his hips back and forth, adoring how breathless Steve looks in their reflection, mouth hanging open.

With his other hand he leaves a trail of oil stains up Steve’s stomach, leading to where Billy smoothes his fingers across shaved pecs, caressing the skin as he teases the frilly edges of the pink bralette, his every touch like fire igniting inside of Steve, his body tensing delightfully.

Billy squeezes tighter around Steve’s throat, a gesture that can be felt vividly in the way his wet dick pulsates and drips - pre cum running down his aching flesh to wet the thong even worse. The thrusts grow longer and deeper, Billy pulling out till just the head is inside, then tentatively pushes back in till he’s balls deep, and every time he runs over that certain spot inside of Steve a sensuous little gasp escapes those perfect lips.

“Look at what a mess you are, baby.” He brings them as close as possible - Steve’s back against his chest, rim choking around the base of his cock.

And Steve opens his eyes just enough to get a good view of how oil and grease has stained his pale skin and somewhat expensive lingerie, pastel roses and delicate embroidery defiled and tarnished beyond repair no doubt. His painfully hard dick that with a stroke or two would have him come undone. Billy’s crystal clear eyes that stare back intently; hungry- no, starved for this.

“A beautiful…” Billy kisses Steve’s neck with undeniable love and infatuation. “Needy…” Lips at the crook of his neck. “Desperate…” His shoulder. “Mess.”

Billy pulls out and slams back in so suddenly it barely leaves Steve time to catch his lucid gasp before it would have been heard from outside the door. Billy’s hips snap against Steve’s ass again and again at an indelicate pace, his teeth sunk into a shoulder as he bites back his moans, eyes trained on the way Steve’s brows knit together, eyes squeezed shut tight as he struggles with his own wanting to give sound to the burning desire lighting him up.

Skin slapping together, the obscenely wet sounds of Billy pounding Steve’s hole, ramming against that glorious sweet spot over and over, it’s intoxicating, fueling the white hot fire that coils at the bottom of Steve’s gut. Both of Billy’s hardened hands grab at Steve’s pecs, the skin of his fingers toughened up from fiddling with engines all day, rough against Steve’s sensitive nipples as Billy pulls down the bra to pinch and squeeze.

“Mmh ah- fuck-” Steve’s eyes roll back at the flourishing bliss that forms in his chest. “Billy…”

“Yeah, you like that?” A rhetorical question that barely receives an answer before Billy presses his dirty thumbs harder against the strutting buds.

Steve’s thighs tremble from it all, teeth biting at his lower lip as he fights every instinct to let it all out. And from the way Billy leers and grins mischievously at the sight in the mirror, there can be no doubt he knows.

Moves his hands to grab Steve’s hips with near bruising tension as he starts slamming into him, thrusting with intense fervor; the pace punishing and the sounds of how their bodies collide worse. Billy’s eyes are pinned to the spread of cheeks where his steely cock pounds into his boyfriend’s tight, slippery hole, his breathing ragged and tongue out wagging enthusiastically.

And Steve’s helplessly lost in his own euphoria of the moment; a hand flies up to clasp at his mouth, the other pressing against the mirror for the sake of balance so as to not get shoved against it whenever Billy rams inside, helping Steve inch closer and closer to climax, with breathless groans and grunts, sighs and whines, all too loud for such a public setting, yet not loud enough for such an intimate act.

Billy bends over to press his sweaty forehead against Steve’s shoulder, gaze still locked to where heat flares up at every plunge, at the way Steve’s body clings to his veiny dick.

“You’re so perfect like this, baby,” his voice rough like wet gravel, “So eager and greedy. Gonna cum in you, Stevie boy, fill you up till you’re ready to burst.”

“Please,” the self-restraint apparent in his tone. “I-I’m so close.”

Then there’s a hand in his hair, yanking and pulling his flushed face off of the mirror and back, his intense breathing fogging up the mirror as he struggles to keep hushed through his sudden orgasm that washes through him, the intensity blinding, his every nerve buzzing vividly at the unexpected release till there’s nothing left in him, but the sensation of Billy vigorously driving his girthy cock in and out, sending forth slight waves of static heat.

Till it comes to a stop with one forceful shove, the hand in his hair tightening, the fingers by his hip digging in, as Billy buries himself completely, pressing Steve against the sink till his thighs hurt from the porcelain edge jabbing him.

But it’s worth it to feel how every muscle flexes, Billy’s teeth closing around Steve’s shoulder to muffle his deep rooted moan that almost escapes in its entirety. Worth it when Billy comes down from his high and relaxes again, yet stays here like this, softening inside of Steve’s well used hole, arms wrapping around his chest to hold him close whilst they both catch their breaths.

Billy kisses gentle apologies across the imprints his teeth made on Steve’s skin, up his neck and as far across his cheek and jaw as he can reach from behind.

And Steve simply stands still, caught between his boyfriend’s broad figure and the white sink, convinced he would fall if Billy stepped back. He leans into the loving attention he’s receiving, every press of lips to his sweaty skin a blissful little source of tender satisfaction. When he finally opens his eyes again after having mindlessly drifted away in the afterglow, he just barely catches the way Billy glances down and grins in a rather humoured way.

“At least you got most of it in the sink,” he rumbles against Steve’s shoulder.

Looking down Steve sees his cum splattered into the sink, yet a few good drops made it up around the faucet and almost even to the wall. Yet his first thought is that he could have made it onto the mirror if he had jerked himself off to completion.

“Who’s going to clean it up?” Steve huffs a little laugh and meets Billy’s gaze in their reflection.

Who tries to hide his smile with kisses. “Hmmm I dunno, kinda wanna see what happens if we just leave it like this; who my boss is gonna blame for cumming in the employee’s bathroom.”

“Gross.”

“It’s yours, princess,” Billy chuckles out and rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“So you’re saying I should clean up after myself?”

“Mhm, yup,” the p pops.

When something changes in Steve’s expression, a clear difference from one second to another, lids heavy as he turns his head to look at Billy with lips inches apart.

“Then it’s only fair that you clean up after yourself, too, don’t you think?”

[angst-fairygodmother]

May I send in a request if it’s not too much trouble? Maybe some mutual pining/yearning with Diego, and it’s just really fluffy? I know it’s not a lot plait wise, sorry, so you can kinda do whatever, as long as it’s fluffy(I love your angst but i am in desperate need of some fluffy with my #1 stubby husband) 💚💚💚💚

A/N: Hello darling! This is a fantastic trope! Thank you so much for your request. Hope it’s everything you were looking for 😊 Word Count: 1861

You had known Diego Hargreeves for years, shared laughs and tears and secrets with him and he had shared them with you. You had met his mother. You were confident in calling him your closest friend. So of course, like a romance movie cliché, somewhere between bickering over the last slice of pizza and trying to stay up long enough to watch every Star Wars movie in one sitting, you’d fallen in love with him. But, like any good protagonist, you were too stubborn to admit it, too sure that he was still in love with Eudora Patch and would never see you in that way and it would only ruin your friendship.

So you tried to move on, kissed frog after frog, hoping for one of them to be Prince Charming, even though you knew he was standing right beside you, ready to throw knives if any of them treated you wrong.

He also did things like warn you that it was dangerous being friends with him or try convince you that he wasn’t worth it, whatever ‘it’ was. Eventually you convinced him to stop that nonsense by agreeing to take some sort of self-defense class, which turned into him teaching you self-defense, and then basic self-defense and boxing.

And then you found yourself rearranging your entire schedule so that you could go down to the Fighting Lion and get your first lesson, and then maybe hang around to watch Diego’s match. But you definitely weren’t in love with him and had totally moved on. Absolutely.

“Didn’t you have a date tonight?” Diego asked, trying hard to play the question as an off-hand curiosity as he gave you a greeting hug. And if he held you a little tighter or for a few seconds longer than he had in the past, who would know.

“I, um. I cancelled,” you replied, not meeting his eye.

“Oh?” his brows shot up in surprise. You had been talking about this date for weeks, and sounded really into the guy.

“Yeah. I just, wasn’t really feeling it, you know?”

“What?” he laughed incredulously. “Two days ago you wouldn’t shut up about him.”

“Well, things change, alright?” you snapped. “Now are we going to sit around gossiping like old hens or are you going to teach me how to fight?”

He sighed, shaking his head ruefully. “Yeah, yeah. Go change and I’ll get set up.”

When you walked back out of the locker-room in your tight-fitted workout clothes a few minutes later, pausing to use the wall to help you stretch your limbs, Diego couldn’t help trailing his eyes over your form especially lingering on your ass and the way it filled out your shorts. He bit his lip, forcing himself to turn away before you noticed.

“Alright, Hargreeves,” you said, and he looked over at you, trying his best to pretend he had just noticed your return. “I’m all dressed up. What’s next?”

You flashed him a smile, the kind that he wished he could believe was specially reserved for him, but in fact was the same bright and enthusiastic one you gave the whole world.

“Wrap your hands and wrists for support,” he said, tossing you a roll of tape.

Fumbling a bit, you caught the tossed object and stared at it as if it was a snake threatening to bite.

Diego chuckled. “Do you need me to show you what to do?”

Biting your lip, Diego’s eyes flicking down to them at the motion, you shrugged. “That would probably be for the best.”

Almost immediately, you regretted agreeing to that as he walked over, taking one of your hands in both of his. You knew that it was just to keep you steady and still while he wrapped, but still it made your heart race and you could only hope that he didn’t notice. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, watching the intense focus on his face, hearing him speak but not the words he said as he explained how to do it so you could for yourself in the future. In your head, he was saying sweet nothings and holding your hand just to hold it, and you felt frustrated with how much you wanted that thought to be real.

“There,” he said, securing the end of the tape on your second hand with a pat and shaking you out of your dream-state. “You’re good.”

“Huh?” you frowned, mind slow to catch up to reality. “Oh, right. Thanks.”

From there, you did all you could stay focused, especially when he decided the best teaching method after the most basic information to keep you from hurting yourself was to just throw you into a fight against him and tell you to do your best. You were impressed with how you held your own, dodging more than striking sure, but he was meant to be a superhero and you had the reflexes to avoid his blows. (It at no point occurred to you that he might be going easy on you.)

“Come on, Y/N. You can’t win a fight if you don’t hit me,” he scolded, laughing.

“But I can’t lose it if I don’t get hit either,” you panted, struggling not to let your guard drop as you grew tired.

“Yes you can,” Diego stopped, dropping his hands and shifting into lecture mode. “Exhausting yourself is just as dangerous. If you’re trying to avoid a fight, which you should, get one good swing in to stun the other person and then run. Don’t just dodge and duck like you’re toying with them. Because you will screw up.”

You huffed. “Fine, I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” you snapped. “Any other tips?”

“Every time you dodge, you drop your left side, leaving yourself vulnerable.”

“Noted. Back to the fight now?”

“Are you actually going to fight or just keep dancing?” his eyes crinkled in a smile and your heart skipped a beat, again.

“If you want to see dancing, I can dance,” you suggested with a smirk. “But yes, I promise I’ll take your suggestions and use them to beat you, and actually do it this time.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head, and raised his hands back up, stance shifting. “Bring it then.”

“Sure you can handle that babe?” you taunted, darting in on a feint.

Only he froze at your teasing nickname, and your fist connected with a solid ‘crack!’ Diego stumbled backwards on the mats, hands coming up to cup his now bleeding nose.

“Ow!” he groaned.

“Shit! Oh god Diego, I’m so sorry!” you yelled, panicked, rushing over to him and placing your hands over his, trying to guide them down so you could inspect the damage you caused. “Is it broken? Do you need tissues? A doctor?”

“No, no it’s fine,” he assured you, shrugging you off, voice muffled and distorted by his hands and the rapid swelling of his face.

“What happened?” you snapped, voice still high with fear. “That was an easy shot to block!”

“I…I don’t know,” he muttered.

His eyes locked with yours and you stood there, staring at each other.

“I just…you called me babe…”

Your stomach lurched. You had, without thinking anything of it. It had been a joke, or maybe a subconscious slip of the tongue. Had it upset him? Or did you dare to hope…?

“That was an excellent hit,” he continued, finally bringing his hands down, checking to see if his nose was still bleeding and sniffing dramatically to clear the airway. “If you do that any time someone gives you a hard time, no one’s ever going to dare mess with you.”

You smiled weakly. “I don’t think most of my enemies would be so in love with me I could distract them so easily…”

“I wasn’t…I’m not…what are you talking about?” he scoffed.

“Relax, Di,” you sighed. “It was a joke.”

You both lapsed into a momentary silence.

“What if…I was?” he asked hesitantly a moment later, just as you were about to ask if the training session was over.

“What if you were what?” you countered, frowning and puzzled.

“…in love with you…” the confession was so low and mumbled that you wouldn’t have caught it at all if you hadn’t been so familiar with Diego and all of his moods.

You laughed nervously. “I must have hit you harder than I thought, cus you’re not making any sense.”

“I’m serious, Y/N.”

“You…what?” You blinked at him, dumb-founded. “You can’t be.”

You thought you must be dreaming, there was no way this conversation could possibly happening, so you settled firmly on denial, not wanting to fall for his prank or whatever this was. Because if he were telling the truth, then you had denied yourself and hurt yourself for years for no actual reason, and that wouldn’t be fair.

“Why can’t I be?” he asked, stepping closer, frowning.

“Well…because…” you cast about for any good reason why your best friend that you were in love with shouldn’t or couldn’t be in love with you right back.

“Y/N, you don’t have to make up excuses. I won’t be upset if you don’t feel the same, and I won’t let it ruin our friendship. It hasn’t so far.”

“How…how long?” you choked out, now fighting back tears.

He shrugged. “A year or two at least. I can’t really say when it happened.”

“Oh, Diego…why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugged, unable to meet your eye. “I don’t know. It didn’t seem like the right time? And then you were dating other people.”

“Because I was trying to get over you!” you shouted, your frustration at the ridiculousness of it all spilling over. “I thought you were still in love with Patch or some dumb shit so I was dating other people. I thought if I found someone good enough, someone fine, I could make myself feel for them what I feel about you, you asshole!”

He stared at you, mouth agape. The horror of everything you just admitted hit you like a brick to the face and you felt the intense blush flood over your face and neck and like you were going to be sick; you wanted to actually vomit.

"W-what?"

The tears that had been stinging spilled down your cheeks. Rough, calloused fingers and tape wrapped palms reached up to brush away their wet tracks.

"Y/N…?"

"I've been in love with you for years, dammit. I just...never had the guts to tell you'" you admitted at a whisper.

And then his lips were on yours and it was...actually kind of awkward, wet with tears and tangy with the lingering salt-metallic taste of his blood and both your sweat. Pulling back to rest your forehead against his, you smiled softly.

"Not that I didn't appreciate it, because I have been wanting to kiss you for a long time now, but maybe we should clean up a little first?" You suggested.

He laughed. "Yeah, probably. And I have a fight later to drop out of."

"What? Drop out of? Why?"

"I've waited too long to take you on a date. I'm not waiting another minute."

[maddiewritesstucky]

Call me maybe (but only during business hours)

A smutty gift for @raynakiasbel​, for her endless patience with my infuriatingly slow writing and inability to focus on one thing at a time! 

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3308

Tags: CEO Steve, College Student Bucky, Poorly-Timed Phone Sex, Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Light Daddy Kink, Dom/Sub Undertones

Part 1 of the SugarVerse series on Ao3 

Bucky is most definitely not watching the clock.

His eyes have absolutely not been glued to the LED display on the bedside table for what feels like a hundred goddamn years, watching the little white lines form number after number, blinking their way into the formation that will mean he can pick up his phone, and call Steve.

That would be all kinds of pathetic, and Bucky is not that kind of boyfriend.

He’s certainly not the kind of boyfriend who’s already fixing to climb out of his skin on day three (three!) of Steve’s out-of-town business trip. Bucky is one of those autonomous, self-sufficient boyfriends, who is entirely too busy with his own obscenely full schedule to care about the fact that he’s not getting dicked down at his every whim this week.

He has midterms to study for, and hours to log at StarkTech to go towards his internship, and Nat’s surprise birthday party to plan even though she’s literally impossible to surprise…he doesn’t have the mental real estate to spare on thirst right now. He might have become a whole other kind of hoe since being exposed to the many splendors of Steve Rogers’ cock, but twitching for it before they’ve even hit the seventy-two hour mark?

That would be highly problematic, if that was happening.

Which it isn’t.

Bucky is well accustomed to flying solo when Steve’s off in corporate alter-ego mode; he’s done this countless times over the past few months since he moved in with Steve, and he’d made his peace with it long before that. You don’t couple up with the CEO of an internationally renowned architecture firm and expect to see his face at the dinner table every night, and for the most part, Bucky has no complaints about having the stupidly plush bed all to his starfishing self a few nights a month.

It’s just...there’s a method to this, usually. And that method does not involve three entire days of near radio silence.

When Steve goes away, even on his busier trips, he always finds time to call Bucky at least once a day, even if it’s just five minutes as he’s crawling into bed to say goodnight. They’ll text, and Steve will send emails that are endearingly formal because his brain tends to stay in CEO-mode 24/7 when he’s on business trips, and they’ll generally tide one another over with tidbits of cyber-affection until they get back in the same physical space.  

But this time? They’ve hardly been in contact at all. And it’s on Bucky, too, at least in part - he’s been swamped with his own workload the past few weeks, struggling to find quality time or head space even in the few days just before Steve left, and all they’ve managed so far is a few sporadic messages in their rare moments of down-time, which have so far been chaotically misaligned.

It’s been a drag, if Bucky’s honest, and he can occupy himself all he wants with his exam prep and his party-plotting, but at the end of the day…

Bucky’s just a boy, laying in front of a clock, asking his dick to hold out just a few more minutes.

Because right now, it’s 10:42pm.

It’s 10:42pm, which means that in exactly three minutes, Steve will be sliding into the crisp white sheets of whatever lavish hotel bed he’s being put up in; buck-ass naked because he’s as stringent on his no-pyjamas policy as he is on his bed time, and in exactly three minutes…

Bucky’s gonna call him, and phone-fuck the soul right out of his offensively perfect body.

He flips onto his back and nestles into the pillows, a dumb grin already fixing to his face in his hormone-fuelled stupor. The lights of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling penthouse windows bathe his naked skin in soft orange-gold, and his hand migrates of its own accord to the semi he’s been rocking ever since it occurred to him that he could just straight up call Steve and spring a jerk-sesh on him.

The whole thing feels deliciously sneaky-skanky. He’s never done this before, just cold-called Steve with an x-rated agenda. They’ve had phone sex before, a great many times in fact, but there’s always a lead-in; a text exchange turned sordid that spirals into a video call straight out of Bucky’s horny teenage fantasies. 

But he’s never gone in jizz-first, ask-questions-later, and as certain as he is that Steve will be entirely on board, it feels just risky enough to have Bucky a little high off the adrenaline of it.

Here lies Bucky, Queen of the Sluts! Stretched out bare atop cream colored sheets, lit up by the New York skyline! Dick in hand and filth on the tip of his tongue!

He is power! He is scandal! He is ready for this!

He pulls the lube out from its hiding place under the pillow and slicks himself up, stroking slow as he tries to summon some small measure of nonchalance about the whole thing. He has a vision for how he wants this to go, and it does not involve him losing his cool the second he hears Steve’s voice on the other end of the line.

This is about seduction, about surprising Steve with some old-school nasty, no video or visuals involved - just Bucky’s filthy mouth and vivid imagination, and he’s determined to keep it together long enough to paint Steve a picture he can jack it to.

He pulls up Steve’s contact and waits out the final torturous minute with his heart in his throat, hitting the call button the second it ticks over to go-time. He hits the speakerphone button, dropping the phone onto the pillow next to him, and holds his breath through the four rings it takes for Steve to pick up.

“...James?”

And oh, but that bodes well...Steve uses his real name in two contexts, and two contexts only - when Bucky visits him at work and he’s in business mode, and when he’s got Bucky flat on his back underneath him, letting him have it.

If Steve’s already keyed up tonight? This just got a lot more interesting.

“Mm, there it is,” Bucky heaves a deep sigh, “that’s what I needed, that voice...”

His mind’s eye conjures up visions of Steve spread out across the bed, taut lines of muscle and bare flesh all laid out. He’s probably just had a shower, so his skin would be all warm and pink, smelling like soap and aftershave; his hair all fluffy from that irreverent way he has of rubbing it towel-dry...god, Bucky misses him.

“James? Are you alright?”

He can practically hear Steve’s brows drawing together in that way they do when he’s overworked; a tight-wound tension in his voice that Bucky has every confidence he can allay before the night’s through.

“Mm, be a lot better if it was your hand wrapped around my cock right now,” Bucky drawls, rolling his body for his audience of no one, “but I guess I’ll just have to settle for fucking my fist to the sound of your voice. Can you hear me touching myself, Daddy?”

He breathes a soft groan as he strokes himself slick and languid, and Steve is silent for a long moment that Bucky’s brain is all too happy to color in with pornographic images of how Steve might be listening; where his hands might be wandering, how his cock would be filling at the mental picture Bucky’s painting. Bucky thinks this might just be the best idea he’s ever had, and he doesn’t hold back on letting Steve hear exactly how good he’s feeling about his decision...

...Until Steve clears his throat, and unceremoniously hits him with an ice-cold dousing of you-done-fucked-up.

“I’m in a meeting right now, I have two clients with me.”  

There is zero inflection in his tone, and if Bucky thought he had experienced true panic before, he was mistaken. He can physically feel himself paling; his mouth dropping open soundlessly, humiliation warring with plain confusion as to why the hell Steve is still working at this ridiculous hour.

And then it clicks.

Horribly, harrowingly clicks.

Steve isn’t working at stupid o’clock at night.

In the perpetual haze of Bucky’s overworked brain and Steve’s ever-changing schedule, Bucky had forgotten that this trip was taking Steve to Hawaii.

For Steve, it isn’t slutty phone-sex hours. It’s very sensible, 4:45pm strictly-business hours.

“Ohmygod,” Bucky gasps, bolting upright and looking desperately around the room like it might hold the solution to his colossal screw up, “Steve, I completely forgot--”

“Mr Barnes, I can give you exactly two minutes of my time right now because I realize it’s been difficult to touch base recently,” Steve interrupts, his tone cooling abruptly with the air of professional detachment and veiled authority Bucky’s heard him use on work calls a thousand times. “Can you tell me exactly what the issue is with the redesign?”

...Bucky blinks, breath caught in his throat as he scrambles to string together some sense from Steve’s response.

Steve hasn’t mentioned any specific projects lately, is Bucky supposed to know something about a redesign? Was there something he--

Oh.

Oh.

His brain and his dick catch on at the same time in a borderline painful rush of blood. He hears Steve pull back from the phone to address his clients, placating them with an apology and the assurance that this won’t take long, and Jesus Christ...Steve is actually doing this.

Steve is actually going to let this happen, going to let Bucky have one-sided phone sex with him while he sits there in some boardroom, with actual clients sitting right in front of him.

What the fuck.

Bucky’s breath leaves him in a rush as he drops back against the pillows and wraps a frantic hand around himself. “The issue is you’ve been gone three fucking days and I wanna sit on your face.”

“Mm, I see why that’s problematic,” Steve muses, cool and unaffected, “what exactly do you need from me?”

God, Bucky can just picture it - Steve sitting there looking like a fucking wet dream in one of his distractingly well-fitting suits, with his hair swept perfectly over and his beard trimmed just close enough to show off the sharp cut of his jaw; radiating that air of quiet authority that makes Bucky want to bounce in his lap until he dies...

Bucky knows for a fact that Steve’s face will be betraying precisely none of what’s happening on the other end of the line, and why the hell is that such a turn on?

“Well I was gonna describe in graphic detail all the things I want you to do to me when you get back,” Bucky huffs, breaths coming faster already, “but if I’m on the clock now, guess I’ll have to settle for sayin’ I need you to bring that dick home ASAP...fuckin’ miss it.”

“I see,” Steve sighs, “well I’m not back in New York for a few days yet, how do you plan to manage this in the interim?”

Bucky curses under his breath, tightening his grip on himself. “Just have to fuck myself, imagine it’s you.”  He sounds every bit as unconvinced of the efficacy of this plan as they both know he is, and Steve hums thoughtfully in response.

“I’m going to need more detail, paint me a picture here.”

Bucky knows he’s blushing, feels the heat of it all the way down his chest, and fuck this shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Dirty talking at Steve and getting nothing back but clipped responses, void of emotion and the usual undercurrent of affection he’s become accustomed to?

Work-Steve needs to come to the bedroom more often.

“I’ll touch myself, like I’m doing right now,” he twists his grip a little on the upstroke, hissing at the change in sensation, “get my fist all wet and tight around my cock...pretend it’s your mouth.”

How close are Steve’s clients sitting to him? Steve wouldn’t be letting this happen if there was any way they could hear...but what if one of them has some kind of medical condition that gives them enhanced hearing? What if one of them can read minds and is hearing this entire conversation play out in stereo quality in their head?

Why is there a part of Bucky that hopes one or both of those things are true?!

“...And?” Steve prompts, almost brusque, and Bucky gives himself a second to revel in the way his dick twitches for the hard edge in Steve’s voice.

“And I’ll, fuck- ” Bucky stutters, rocking his hips with the rhythm of his strokes, pushing himself up through his grip, “I’ll use my toys, fingerfuck myself.”

“Right, well why don’t you go ahead and start that for me now,” Steve says, off-hand; pulling back from the phone to place an honest-to-god coffee order with the oblivious intern who’s now seemingly in the room too, and Bucky’s never felt more of an affinity for the whole bored-and-ignored thing.  

He slicks up the fingers of his free hand and shifts a little onto his side, hiking a knee up as he slips a finger inside himself.

“Can I take that as a yes, Mr Barnes?” Steve asks at the breathy moan Bucky lets out as he presses in first with one, and then with two fingers, and Bucky nods frantically even though Steve can’t see him.

“Yes, fuck...I'm doin' it...feels so fucking good, Steve.”

And it does. It’s a difficult angle, and he can't quite hit the spot he wants to inside himself, but the steady stroke-tug against his rim while his fist flies over his cock is working for him; winding him towards what would, in any other non time-constrained circumstance, be an embarrassingly fast orgasm.

He can hear Steve shuffling papers, making quiet sounds of agreement along with whatever conversation is going on in the background between his clients whilst they wait, unknowing, and Bucky can’t decide whether it’s a blessing or an immense disappointment that Steve has to bite his tongue right now; that he can’t unleash any of the filth he’d definitely be spitting if he didn’t have an audience. 

Steve fucking loves to run his mouth, and Bucky loves to hear it; lives for the endlessly colorful obscenities Steve comes out with in the throws of it.

Just listen to you, he’d be laughing a little; his voice dripping with that indulgent, self-satisfied grin he gets, so goddamn easy for it, ain’t that right baby? Three fuckin’ days and you’re gagging for it...should be ashamed of yourself…

But Steve is in a very public forum right now, in the middle of a meeting no less, trying to give the impression that he’s very decidedly not having phone sex. Right now, he’s Steve Rogers - CEO, consummate professional.

But he is also an asshole, and when he asks Bucky “do you feel you have a firm grasp on the situation, or would a second set of hands be helpful on this one?” Bucky swears he can hear that faint hint of a smirk all the way across the fucking country.

“Might just have to go find myself a second set of hands if you stay away too long,” Bucky retorts, emboldened by the distance, and a little morbidly curious to see what sassing gets him when Steve can’t say shit about it.

Turns out, what it gets him is a full-body shiver and a throb between his thighs as Steve’s tone dips to somewhere in the realm of politely-veiled threat. “I would not advise that, Mr Barnes.”

It occurs to Bucky, then, that this won’t just be done and dusted once they hang up. At the end of the week, Steve will come back to New York, and he will absolutely have some Things To Say about this little interruption.

He can picture it now, the way Steve will stand there all calm, staring him down with his mouth upticked at the corner while Bucky fumbles his way through an explanation. 

He’ll probably do that thing where he doesn’t say much but his eyes say everything, and Bucky will have to try really hard to seem remorseful even though they’ll both know he’s not actually all that sorry. And Steve won’t want him to be, not really, but it’ll be something he can use to their mutual benefit, nonetheless.

Fuck, Steve might spank him.

Bucky smothers a moan into the pillow next to him, twisting his fingers inside himself and brushing his thumb across the head of his cock as he turns that thought over, Steve bending him over his knee, or better yet, over his desk...

“Oh,” Bucky gasps, a sudden rush of heat twisting tight in his gut, “fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Steve huffs a vaguely incredulous laugh, and there’s a faint creaking sound like he’s settling further back in his chair. “Oh really? Who authorized that?”  

Bucky lets out a deeply undignified whine, his whole body strung tight enough to snap; caught between the sensations of his hand moving frantically over his dick and his fingers scissoring inside himself.

“Come on,” he whimpers, teetering on the knife edge of losing it, “tell me I can finish, please.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

Oh, fuck him, fuck him...how is he still edging Bucky when he was the one who put the rush order on this?

“Please, Daddy,” Bucky doesn’t try to hide the desperation in his voice as he changes tact, “if you don’t authorize this orgasm I think I’m gonna go blind, just fucking let me come!”

Steve pauses a beat, humming a considering sound. “No, I’m not comfortable signing off on that. We’re tabling this until I get back to New York.”

Bucky freezes, both hands stilling; his face crumbling into a mask of abject disbelief.  “You can’t be serious?”  His stomach drops, even as something in the back of his mind says he really should have seen this coming...or, not coming, as is the case.

“I'm sure we can come to a far more satisfying resolution in person,” Steve says, maddeningly cavalier.

Bucky’s gearing up to plead his case, but Steve’s not done ruining his night yet.

“In fact, Mr Barnes,” he piles on, “I’d like to make you personally responsible for ensuring no further action is taken on the matter until I return. Can I trust you with this?”

Bucky gapes down at his poor, oblivious cock still standing at eager attention in his grasp, unaware of the disaster that’s just befallen them, and he takes his hands off himself with a pained groan.

“This is criminal,” he objects, flopping heavily onto his back and throwing his arms out to his sides, “if my dick falls off, it’s your fault!”

“Great! Glad to hear it,” Steve chirps, as if he's not the worst person alive, “I’ll be in touch.”

“Whatever,” Bucky scowls at the shadows stretching across the ceiling, willing his mind off the throbbing ache of injustice between his thighs, “I’m totally not answering any of your calls.”

Steve’s smile bleeds into his tone a little when he responds, the closest he’s come to fondness yet. “Okay, speak soon, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky tries, really tries, to inject some petulance into his tone as he signs off with a grumbled “love you, I guess,” but he can’t quite bring himself to sulk as much as he feels the situation warrants.

After all, in exactly four days, Steve will come back to New York.

He’ll come home, and they’ll laugh about this, and in exactly four days…

Steve will make him forget what he was even upset about in the first place.

(Part 2 of the series here!)

[psycho-slytherin]

Bonus: Yoongi's chapter

Request: Hi! I would just like to say I LOVE strangers! In regards to the bonus chapter, I am so curious as to what Yoongi did at the end of ch. 19. The kiss between them is like my favorite part ever! I just wanna know what his point of view may have been! Again, love the series so much! Thanks for all you do!! <3

Context: This takes place during Strangers ch. 19 after Y/n learned of the damage to her apartment. This content is not relevant to the main Strangers plot.

WC: 3k I have no idea what happened

|mlist|

A/N: yes I did this instead of studying for any of my four finals and no I don't regret it, ty anon for the request! Pls drop an ask or comment letting me know what you think, requests are open!

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

“Nooo,” you groan goodnaturedly as you lose again. Taehyung, your rival, laughs as he grabs the bottle and tops off your glass. You’re sitting in between him and Seokjin, across from Namjoon. Yoongi, as usual, is curled up in his favorite armchair.

He watches you play in amusement, sipping from a cup of mint tea. He’s so used to keeping his guard up around you, and he has a feeling that, like last night, you’ll need help getting home. Even if he won’t be driving, he’d rather have his wits about him to ensure you stay safe.

Oh, wait, no – he’s struck by the reminder that your apartment is getting renovated; you’re staying at their place tonight. He blinks hard and takes a long pull of tea. He knows that he welcomed you to stay, but part of him feels nervous.

You chug the rest of your drink, which as far as Yoongi knows is some combination of beer and soju. He watches as you pause, your expression unreadable. You have a drop of soju dripping slowly down your bottom lip.

“Y/n-” he starts, about to alert you, when you reach up and swipe your lip with your thumb, catching the droplet. On hearing his voice, though, you turn and lock eyes with him. Right as you lick the droplet off your finger. Yoongi half-gasps into his cup, inhaling tea in the process. He immediately coughs and sputters, lungs burning.

“I- kitchen,” he manages, although no one seems to be paying attention. He stands, still coughing, and runs to the kitchen, standing over the sink as he struggles to catch his breath. Your face in that moment feels etched into the inside of his eyelids.

Dear god, that’s just not fair. Once his airway is clear, he runs the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face. He knows you don’t mean anything by your actions. You had an awful day and just want to forget. Speaking of… Xiumin. Yoongi clenches his fist, his face and hair dripping water. He wasn’t careful enough, and ended up soaking his collar as well. If he ever meets your ex, it’ll take all the self-control he has to keep from punching Xiumin in the throat.

When he returns to the living room, Yoongi sees you sobbing on Seokjin’s shoulder.

“I th-thought he loved m-me. Why does nobody love me?”

“I love you, Y/n,” Hoseok replies loudly. Yoongi glances at Namjoon.

“What happened?”

Namjoon shrugs, tipping his glass at Yoongi. “Dunno. She just started crying. Better out than in, I guess?”

“Sure,” Yoongi replies absentmindedly. Seokjin is rubbing Y/n’s back comfortingly.

“Why is she staying the night, hyung?”

“Ah- she said her apartment was getting renovated.”

You raise your head, swollen eyes narrowing at Yoongi. “And my apartment is flooded because someone dragged me out.”

Yoongi raises a brow at Namjoon in surprise as you continue glaring at him. “Min Suga… no wait, Agust… what was I talking about?”

How on earth is it his fault that your apartment is damaged? Still, anger, even if directed at him, is better than a painful, hopeless depression. Yoongi learned that lesson years ago. “You were blaming me,” he says softly. How could he ever be upset at you?

“Right! Yeah, it’s all your fault. I’m mad at you now!” you say, pointing. Taehyung, who’s been hovering between sleep and consciousness all evening, snickers. He’s made a pillow of Y/n’s lap, and Yoongi, after quelling the urge to fling the vocalist across the room, sighs and chuckles to himself. He knows how much of a wreck your life has felt like lately – after all, you tell him practically everything. He doesn’t know exactly what happened tonight, only that you learned Xiumin was cheating on you. He’s glad that you have him and the other members to lean on. He remembers hearing your voice tremble and break in that message you left… “Yoongi, I- I need you. Please, something happened. I don’t want to be alone.”

Lost in his thoughts, he barely hears himself respond to you: “Whatever you say, Y/n.”

Yoongi watches you, still grumpy, poke a sleepy Taehyung on the cheek. “God, why are you all so hot?”

Seokjin snorts, and Yoongi sees Namjoon take a swig of his drink to cover a smirk. Blushing, Taehyung sits up and sticks his tongue out at you. Your mood switches instantly, and you giggle, scrunching your nose at Tae.

“Why’s he getting all the attention?” Hoseok, his cheeks red from the liquor. He, Jimin, and Jungkook have been trying to play cards, but none of their attention spans seem to last long enough to remember who played last. It doesn’t help that Hoseok is clutching both of your shoes in his hands.

“Sorry, guys!” You laugh, wiping your eyes. Yoongi doesn’t understand how you can still smile while clearly still feeling so much pain. “I’ll pay attention to you now.” You try to crawl off the couch, but instead fall onto the floor with a thump, knocking over the deck of cards. You pop up, reaching for an open bottle of vodka on the coffee table, and take a swig.

“She’s gonna have a bitch of a headache tomorrow,” Namjoon comments. Yoongi winces in sympathy, walking over to you as you hug Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook in turn.

“C’mon, let’s get you up,” he holds out a hand to help you up, but instead you take his hand and shake it with a giggle.

“Nice to meet you, Suga~” you chirp, still on the floor. “You’re pretty.”

Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He’s been trying to stay serious to allow you space to grieve, but you’re being so ridiculous, so adorable, that he can feel his discipline waning. “Why, thank you,” he says, chuckling.

“And Joon!” You say, turning your gaze upon Namjoon. “You’re pretty too. God, I used to have, like, the biggest crush on you, you know?”

The boys burst out laughing, Namjoon the hardest of them all. “You’re an honest drunk, aren’t you?” He says with a wink. “What do you think about Yoongi hyung?”

“O-kay, that’s enough, we should all get to sleeping.” Yoongi claps, distracting Y/n from the swift kick he delivers to Namjoon’s shin. The younger rapper grimaces in pain, but it morphs into a mischievous grin.

“Y/n, come sit with me,” Namjoon says, patting the seat next to him on the couch. You bounce up and Yoongi, for half a moment, sees red. Instead of settling next to Namjoon, you’ve chosen to sprawl across him, smacking your lips sleepily. He can’t remember the last time he’s wanted to become another person, but now it’s all he can think about. Almost without thinking, he grabs the last clean shot glass and pours himself a shot of his favorite sweet liquor.

“Speaking of sleeping,” Jungkook says, “Where is Y/n gonna sleep?”

“I can jussht take the couch,” you say, slurring a bit.

“You’re a guest, Y/n-ie. You can have my bed. That is,” Seokjin says, glancing at Yoongi, “If you don’t mind rooming with Yoong-”

Yoongi knows with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t sleep a wink if he were in the same room as Y/n. Besides, what if she wants to sleep alone, or she’s still mad at him? “Don’t worry about it, hyung – she can take my bed, I’ll take the couch.” He doesn’t feel tired at all, so being out in the living room will give him more of a chance to wander without bothering anyone.

“You’re both wrong,” the maknae says with a hiccup. “Why doesn’t she – hic – take my bed? I’m not rooming with anyone.”

You sit up, still on Namjoon’s lap. Yoongi’s eye twitches. Where is this jealousy coming from? It’s not the first time Y/n has acted this way, although she’s certainly bolder than before. He doesn’t know why tonight, it bothers him so much. “I’ve already said I’ll sleep on the couch, and I’ll throw my shoe at anyone that argues with me,” you say, your words clearer than they’ve been all evening.

Yoongi can’t hold back his laugh this time as he looks at Hoseok. “You already did, Y/n. Twice. I don’t know if you’re getting those back tonight.” He wishes he could be as confident a tease as his fellow rappers, but with Y/n… it’s probably best that his platonic intentions are clear.

“Aw,” you say, sticking your lip out in a painfully adorable pout. “Anyways, I’m sleeping on the couch. Goodnight!” With that, you scoot off of Namjoon, who’s still smirking at Yoongi, and push him off the couch. Grabbing the blanket that was lying on the back of the couch, you roll over and begin deep, exaggerated breaths, clearly pretending to be asleep.

“You heard the madam,” Namjoon says, stretching. “I’m off to bed. You guys coming?”

“Yeah,” Jimin mumbles sleepily. Taehyung grabs Jimin's arm to help himself get off the couch, and the three go to their respective rooms.

“I’ll stay here a bit longer,” Seokjin says. Jungkook nods in agreement, and Hoseok is fast asleep on the floor.

“I’ll hang out a bit too then,” Yoongi says. You’re stubborn in pretending to sleep; you’re so motionless it looks unnatural, with none of the twitches or sniffs of a real sleeping person.

“So how come Y/n’s apartment flooded?” Jungkook says with a yawn.

Yoongi thinks to earlier in the night, when you swung open the door with a blanket around your shoulders, your eyes shining with tears. Now that he recalls, he did hear the faint sound of running water when he drew you into his arms and out the door. Had you left something running that he’d distracted you from? Then it wasn’t just your drunk outburst – your disaster really was Yoongi’s fault. He blinks hard, a nervous habit from his trainee days. “I think she may have left something running.”

“Damn, been there,” the maknae laughs. “Remember when I tried to fill up one of those kiddie pools inside the house and forgot about it?”

“I couldn’t forget if I wanted to,” Seokjin replies with a sigh. “I thought Manager-nim would fire us on the spot.”

“Can you imagine? No BTS?” Jungkook asks, absentmindedly poking the sleeping Hoseok’s shoulder.

Can he imagine it? Would he still be Gloss, the underground rapper from Daegu? Would he have tried to make it as a producer, and sent other artists to the spotlight? Or would he have given up on music entirely, and be leading a life as an office worker?

“I have no idea what I’d be doing,” Seokjin says, interrupting his thoughts. “I suppose we’ll never know how hypotheticals might’ve worked out.”

“Mm. I think I’m heading to bed now. Goodnight, hyungs.” Jungkook leans down and picks up Hoseok in a fireman’s carry over his shoulder. The rapper, of course, stays sound asleep. Seokjin nods at Yoongi. “Let’s turn in?”

Yoongi casts a last glance at you. He can’t tell anymore if you’re awake or not. “Yeah, alright.”

With that, he and Seokjin walk down the hall to their shared room. Yoongi flicks off the lights, plunging the apartment into darkness.

In bed, Yoongi can’t sleep. That’s nothing new – he knows ARMYs love to joke about how he’s always sleepy, but it’s so hard for him to sleep at night that his daytime fatigue is constant. He can hear Seokjin snoring across the room. And you, you’re out in the living room.

Shit. Suddenly the air is stifling – he’s too warm, he can’t stand it. Cursing under his breath, Yoongi sits up and pulls his T-shirt over his head, falling back onto his pillow. It doesn’t help. His skin feels flushed, uncomfortable. Several minutes pass as Yoongi tries to keep his breathing steady, pleading with his own mind to turn off and let him rest.

His efforts prove fruitless. At last he groans and kicks his sheets off, standing. I should ask Manager-nim for sleeping pills. He pads across the hall, letting himself into his producing studio and settling into the familiar, comforting chair, reaching for his headset. The demos for his next mixtape are still loaded on the computer. Desperate for something, anything to occupy his thoughts, he hits Play and lets the beat pound in his ears. Immediately he zeros in on edits.

“I need to pause for another measure,” he mumbles, reaching for a pen and scribbling his notes down. “Ad-lib there. Stronger snare in the chorus.”

Another half hour passes in the same manner before he remembers that he still needs to actually sleep. Groaning, he leans back in the chair, rubbing his eyes. “Dammit.”

Eventually he gets up and opens the door of his studio, about to head back to his room when he notices movement down the hall.

Ah. It looks like he’s not the only one who can’t sleep. Yoongi smiles to himself and sighs, returning to his room to pull his shirt back on over his head.

You’re sitting on the floor, against the couch, looking out onto Seoul through the window opposite. Yoongi notices you’ve once again wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. Are you cold, he wonders, or is it more for comfort than anything?

He walks closer, his weight accidentally making the floorboards creak. You notice.

“Yoongi.”

Yoongi smiles to himself as he sits down beside you. How did you know it was him without even turning to look? “Hey, you’re awake. How are you?”

You lean your head on his shoulder, your cheek brushing against his collarbone, exposed by the loose T-shirt. Yoongi feels his breath catch in his throat. “I’m sad,” you say with a hiccup. “Is that allowed?”

Is it allowed? For a moment he feels like he’s talking to his former self – a younger Yoongi that was terrified of the monster inside of him, the one that made him despise himself. Was he allowed to feel?

“Of course it is, Y/n. I’d be surprised if you weren’t.” He hates seeing you like this, knowing he can’t do anything to heal your heartache.

Your voice sounds on the edge of tears again, and cautiously Yoongi reaches up to rub circles on your back like he saw Seokjin do. “You’re so nice. You really are the best, you know that?”

Yoongi snickers. He likes this honest version of Y/n, and in the dark it’s easier for even him to relax. “Of course I am.” He nudges you. “I’m the best at being furniture, apparently.”

You nuzzle further into him, your face now pressed into the nook between his collarbone and the curve of his neck. “You are. You’re like a soft floofy couch.”

Yoongi holds his breath. It’s for comfort, you just got cheated on, you need a friend to comfort you. He’s supporting you as your friend. Your cheeks are warm from the alcohol, but suddenly the warmth doesn’t bother Yoongi as much now. It’s several seconds before he can trust himself to speak without his voice wavering. “That’s good, Y/n.”

You sit up, breaking the spell. “Yoongs? I feel weird. Like, I’m sad, but…” you look away from him, your eyes glittering with the lights of Seoul below. In that moment, Yoongi feels like he could write a thousand songs. “I don’t feel sad for the right reasons.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sad that I’m not sad,” you whisper, turning back toward him. You’re… much closer than before. “And I’m not sad because I have you.”

“Y/n,” Yoongi says, his voice barely audible even to his ears, “you know you’ll always have me.”

You lean closer, your eyes fluttering closed. Yoongi barely has a moment to notice how long your lashes look in the dim light before you’re pressing impossibly soft lips against his.

You’re kissing him. Yoongi can only thank his lucky stars that he was sober enough to remember to brush his teeth, because you’re kissing him. He barely registers it for a second, his consciousness somewhere far away, before: idiot. Kiss her back.

Remembering that he has arms, and that he can move them, helps as he wraps them around you and pulls you in closer, kissing you hard. He knows this isn’t a good idea – you’re heartbroken, drunk, and rebounding – but dear god, are your lips addictive. Suddenly Yoongi resents that breathing is a human necessity; this is so much better. You taste like soju and chocolate, and your mouth against his is so soft and full that Yoongi has to restrain himself from the urge to bite your lip. No, there’s something about this moment that’s too precious, too special, too magic to change. If he takes a breath or opens his eyes, the spell will break. He shifts positions so he can turn to face you completely, tracing his way up to cup your face in his hands. He’s never noticed, since he’s never had the chance, but your face fits perfectly in the curve of his palms. He smiles against your lips, entranced.

Yoongi doesn’t know if it was ten seconds or five minutes before you both pull away, and he sees a goofy smile form on your lips. “You’re amazing, Min Yoongi.”

All the self-control in the world couldn’t stop the blush that spreads across his cheeks, or the grin that follows. “You’re pretty great too, Y/n.”

You look like you’re about to say something else, but inside your muscles fall slack and you slump over, asleep. Yoongi catches you and carefully lifts you up onto the couch. As he spreads the blanket back over your sleeping form, he wishes for a second he were as strong as Jungkook.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he whispers. You’re completely out, but breathing well. In the dim moonlight and glow of the city, you look practically ethereal.

As he tiptoes back to bed, the thought strikes him: What the fuck is going to happen tomorrow?

[gembloomwrites]

Half-Baked

Fandom(s): Professional Wrestling, All Elite Wrestling Pairing: Adam Page/Reader Rating: T Prompt:  “As co-workers who decide to be a fake couple to piss an annoying co-worker off, but they tricked the rest of the staff as well!? How will they get out of this mess?”  Summary:  You decide to finally do something about the plague that is MJF. However, it may not be all smooth sailing. Word Count: 3,045 Viewable on AO3 Author’s Note: Hello there. I began to write this work last year more than likely before the formation of Omega/Hangman team so I apologise if it seems outdated. I do hope you enjoying reading and would appreciate any feedback.I am open to requests sent to me both here and on AO3 @ GemBloomWrites. Thank you.-Gem

Honestly as half-baked plans went it all went smoothly at the start. 

Ever since you joined AEW you’d been pestered with propositions and cheesy pick-up lines from one MJF. It absolutely annoyed you to no end. His sickening smirk and misplaced confidence never ceased to put a damper on any day. Not to mention his lapdog Wardlow would follow his every move.

As for Adam, he’d been on a spiral as of late. Everything seemed to go wrong for him. Among numerous bumps along the road one of the most prominent was the loss of the AEW Diamond Ring to the aforementioned MJF. That slimeball had gone around swanning the damn thing in Adam’s face at every opportunity. Even going so far as to once forcibly shove it into Adam’s lips in an attempt to get him to kiss it. 

All in all, the two couldn’t stand him, and both would love to see that smug smile wiped from his face. 

It all came to a head one day while you were sitting in catering. From a distance you could hear the tell-tale sneer of MJF bragging about something or another to Wardlow. You sighed and promptly sat up to begin to leave. Glancing around the room as you left, you spotted Adam Page in a corner by himself. An idea sprang to mind, running away certainly hadn’t solved the problem, but this just might. Quickly walking over to Adam, he hadn’t noticed you even as you sat down beside him, seemingly too engrossed in whatever drink was in his hand. You tapped his shoulder to get his attention, jumping slightly when he was jared from his thoughts. He looked at you with wide blue eyes, before he could question the intrusion you leaned in and tried to explain your plan in a hushed whisper, “Listen, I know this is weird but I need you to pretend that you’re into me, MJF is on his way and I really need to get him off my back.” Adam stared at you with confusion in his eyes, processing what you had just said. Before he formed a response, he was cut off by a loud shout.

“(Y/N)! I knew I’d see you around here somewhere!”

Maxwell Jacob Freidman has finally arrived and of course he couldn’t let his presence go unannounced. You visibly cringed and looked in his direction with a venomous stare, “Well obviously, we work for the same company.” He didn’t seem to be phased by your snarky comment as he strode over to you, Wardlow in tow. “No need to be so cold, I know you’re just dying to get a piece of me,” he stated, “Why don’t you just drop the act and come back to my hotel?” You scoffed in disgust as the thought of his offer came to mind, “No thanks, I’m hanging out with Adam.” MJF took a moment to look between you and Adam before a smirk broke out onto his face, “This hic? C’mon (Y/N), you can do way better than this fuckin’ loser.”

It was these words that snapped Adam out of his confusion and into the situation at hand. He stood up quickly, knocking the chair he was just sitting on. He squared up to MJF with a tense jaw, you stood up with him, trying to diffuse the situation you unintentionally created. Adam shifted his weight from one leg to the other as he spoke, “Fuckin’ loser huh? I’m not the one running around with a little buddy here because you’re too damn scared someone’s gonna sock ya right in that horse face of yours. I’m not the one acting like the shit to cover up the fact that you’re not even worth lacing up my boots. And I am certainly not the one who tries to flirt with a woman who thinks you’re disgusting!”

Your eyes widened at his outburst, and for a moment the air in the room was quiet and stale. Wardlow shifted towards Adam and reminded everyone else of the situation. You hastily got in between the two men, “Step off Friedman, don’t start lashing out at everyone else just because your dick feels small.” Maxwell turned to you and opened his mouth but before he could reply you cut in, “And for one Adam is not a loser, he’s ten times the man you’ll ever be, he’s way more good looking and doesn’t make me want to vomit. If anything, you’re the loser!” You link your hand in Adam’s, “Look, I’ve met a real man, so why don’t you just leave me alone?” Adam looked to your hand dumbfounded and back to the man standing before him. MJF looked between the two of you with anger in his eye. For the first time since the match for the Diamond Ring he felt like he’d finally gotten under his skin, Adam smirked at this. “Clearly,” the cowboy said, drawing it out for effect, “The lady’s made her feelin’s clear, why don’t you and your lapdog just run off.” 

It was your turn to be shocked, only for the fact that Adam went along with your crazy scheme. Maxwell stood tense for a few minutes; the air thick in the room. You were getting more anxious as the seconds rolled by. To remove yourself from the situation you tugged on Adam’s arm, “Come on babe, he’s not worth it.” He followed your lead, albeit reluctantly. Of course, Maxwell had to get the last word as you walked out the door, “Yeah that’s it you better run off ya loser, she’s not even that hot anyway!” You stopped in the hallway, blood starting to boil, until you realised you were still linked with Adam, “Keep going,” he said quietly, “Like you said, he ain’t worth it. Not right now anyway.” Starting to get a bit self-conscious you took your hand from his and scratched the back of your neck. “Yeah,” you sighed, “You’re right. He’s just gets under my skin.”

“You and me both.”

You smiled at his sincerity and his now calm, sweet tone. Both standing awkwardly for a few moments, you started again with a cough, “Look, I’m sorry for dragging you into this, he just really doesn’t give up.” Adam looked at you for a moment and then too his shoes, shifting around again, “It’s fine, really. Honestly it felt good to rile him up.” You began to pass him and head off, “Well thanks, I appreciate it.” Your trek was cut short when he grabbed your wrist, he looked at you with an unreadable expression, “Hey this might just seem crazy but hear me out.” He let your wrist go and you gave him a questioning look as he continued on, “We both hate that smug son of a bitch. And seeing us together clearly struck a nerve. If you want when he’s around, we could keep up this little...uh…act.” The look on your face must have been one of pure shock and confusion, because Adam quickly recoiled, “I-I mean it’s just an idea, thought it’d make life easier for the both of us.” The next few moments were just silence, it made Adam want to run away in pure embarrassment. You thought it over, if you were to be rational you would have turned him down and went on. So many things could go wrong. But you weren’t thinking rationally if you were honest, all you were thinking about was pissing off MJF and getting closer to the hunk standing in front of you.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.”

As the months rolled on the charade continued. Whenever MJF showed up you and Adam would be there. Some days Adam would purposefully make you laugh with an absolutely terrible pun in front of him. On other days you would stick close to him, running your fingers up his muscular chest and whisper into his ear. Sometimes you would sit on his lap with his hands around your waist, making sure to be in full view of Maxwell. It drove the man crazy, which only seemed to satisfy you two more. Not only did you achieve your goal, but you and Adam grew so much closer. He was a great friend. You two were both going through a rough patch in your respective careers. Adam on a losing streak, and you couldn’t even seem to break into the Women’s Rankings. You both started to spend time outside of work, not even thinking about the reason you two were together in the first place. Adam was a comfort in an otherwise breakneck world.

You felt yourself falling for him. Even moments spent with him being your fake partner made you wish he was your real one. When he’d wrap his arm around your waist you’d feel electric under his fingertips. You found yourself seeking his company when you had the time or watching his matches when you weren’t preparing for your own. Just watching the sweat roll down his body or everytime pulled on the waistband sent a hot feeling down your body. The whole plan was spiralling out of control and you felt helpless to stop it. 

One day you two were playing your little game, once again hearing the boisterous MJF roaming the halls. You were backed into a corner looking up to Adam, he looked down at you with those gorgeous blue eyes and shook his head, “He seems to be everywhere I turn at this point.” You were too busy being engulfed by his presence to be concerned by what he was talking about. Heart thumping in your chest you made a non-committal sound of agreement. You felt a gentle hand move your head to look into Adam’s face, “Hey,” he said softly, “You okay?” Oh god, why did he have to be so handsome? “Uh…” You stammered, “I’m fine just not feeling good today, y’know?” He looked at you  with a frown before he said anything else you cut in, “I’m fine, really, just tired of this MJF crap.”

“You and me both, I’d love to just-.”

All of a sudden your two bodies were hauled away into what can only be described as a death grip. Turning, you saw Matt Jackson holding the two of you with the biggest grin on his face. Struggling out of his tight grip was a task and a half but you managed it eventually, “Matt? What the hell!?” He let Adam go and opted to put one hand on each of your shoulders. His face bounced back between the two of you excitedly, “I knew something was up with you Hangman! Why didn’t you tell us?!” Adam looked confused as he turned to Matt, “What, what do ya mean ‘what’s up’?” The older Buck started to wag his finger towards the cowboy, “Don’t play coy with me, you think I don’t see it?” You started to mirror Adam’s confused expression, “See what Matt?” Matt’s grin somehow managed to grow even wider, “C’mon dude the jig is up, practically everyone is talking about the two of you.” You looked back between Adam and Matt, “The two of us what? What’s everyone talking about?” “Well,” Matt moved into a thinking position, “I heard one of the women say today, and I’m paraphrasing here, ‘They’re one of those couples who are just meant for each other’.”

Both you and Adam’s eyes widened in shock. In all your plans, you had forgotten about everyone else, the only focus trying to fool Max. A few moments of silence passed before Adam piped up, “Uh, we’re not-.” You began speaking at the same time, “We were never-.”

“Yeah it was just a-.”

“We’re just-.”

You looked back at each other seemingly exasperated with trying to come up with an explanation for the Buck. You gave Adam a nod to go ahead, thinking he’d be better explaining it to his friend. He began to open his mouth when Matt cut across him, “Awh look at you two, still in the Honeymoon phase,” he elbowed Adam quite vigorously before starting to walk away, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do kids!” Adam placed his arm over his ribs were Matt has elbowed him, you looked into him, “Well, crap, what are we going to do now?”

The two of you cooled down the act considerably since the incident with Matt. You both felt too awkward to talk about the implications of what you two had been doing the last few months. You became aware of the locker room talk and couldn’t help but wistfully want it to be true. However, you had hardly spoken with Adam, your plan to fool MJF all but forgotten. You  began to throw yourself into your wrestling as a distraction, and it seemed Adam did too. Unfortunately no amount of wrestling could keep the Cowboy off your mind completely and you found yourself back at square one; in catering, trying to avoid MJF. 

“Ah (Y/N)! Where’s the hic? Finally realise he’s a loser? You know I can show you a hell of better time.”

You sighed and turned to Maxwell, “Do you like to stalk me or something? Can’t you get the hint? I. Am. Not. Into. You.” MJF immediately brushed this off and smirked, “Come one, this ‘hard-to-get- shtick is getting old just admit you want me.” You placed your face in your hands, nothing seemed to deter Max and it annoyed you to no end. You looked back up to tell him where to put his proposition when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Looking over your shoulder you saw Adam with a scowl on his face. He gave your shoulder a squeeze and stared straight ahead to MJF, “This asshole botherin’ you?” No words came up your throat, surprised that not only Adam was here, but he was continuing with your plan. 

Max scoffed, “I’m not bothering her, I’m just telling her about how she could do so much better.” Adam took his hand off you and squared up to MJF, “You better get runnin’, she’s not interested. She’s my girl and I have no problem layin’ you out to stop you harassin’ her.” Again you were actually dumbstruck, the ‘my girl’ comment throwing you off everything. Maxwell frowned but regained his smirk within a few seconds, “You know what, you two losers were meant for each other. She’s obviously too stupid to-.”

Maxwell was abruptly cut off when Adam’s well-aimed fist connected with his face. This shook you out of your daze almost immediately and you stood behind Adam, grabbing his shoulders, “Whoa! Calm down, like I said before, he isn’t worth it.” Adam was huffing at this point and turned to you. His brief angry stare sent a shiver through you before his body relaxed and his expression softened. Seeing the pleading look in your eyes he nodded and looked down to Max who was flat on his ass holding his face, “You’re lucky we ain’t in the ring.” 

Before Max could respond Adam grabbed your hand and led you out of the room. When the two of you came across an empty hallway he let go and turned to you. He took a minute to compose himself, while you pinched the bridge of your nose, “Oh God how are we going to explain this to Mr. Khan.” 

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t  have got so heated.”

You sighed and looked into Adam’s regretful face, “No, no it’s mine I should have stopped this whole thing months ago. MJF found a new way to get to you and the whole locker room thinks we’re a thing.”

Adam chuckled, “I think we both had a hand in that darlin’.” You took in Adam’s appearance, he looked more calm now and you couldn’t help but get lost in him all over again. After a minute you stopped yourself  before it got awkward and turned to pace, “We probably should explain everything to Tony and everyone else, it’ll be embarrassing but at least this whole thing will be over.” You turned to Adam to see his expression visibility drop before looking down, “Uh yeah, probably for the best.” You felt a wave  of sadness wash over. You know all this was coming to an end. The rational part of your brain always knew this, but your heart wanted to revel in the closeness for longer. You stepped closer towards Adam and wrapped your arms around him. You buried your head into his broad chest, “Thank you…. For everything.” As you unwillingly started to pull away Adam placed his hands on your hips, keeping you in place. You quickly looked up into his face getting caught once more in his beautiful eyes. 

For what  felt like forever the two of you stayed like this. You were content like this really, just taking in being close with Adam. He eventually cut through the silence, “I don’t want it to end here,” he whispered, “I want it to be real.” Your heart sped up at his admission and for a moment he’d knocked all words out of your mouth. This is what you wanted for months, for him to return your feelings. Now that it was happening you couldn’t find it in you to say what you needed to say. Adam picked up on your hesitation and began to pull away. However you quickly put your hands on his face, if you couldn’t say anything you were going to show him. 

You pulled him in for a kiss, trying to put everything you need to say in it. For a little time Adam stayed still in shock but then started to respond with passion. He put his hands back on your waist and pulling you in further. You both moved your heads slightly and deepened the kiss. This was months of tension finally being released between the two of you and nothing in the world felt better right now. As you pulled away for a breath of air you couldn’t help bury yourself in his neck. Finally you felt the right words come forwards, “I want this to be real, I don’t want this to ever end either.”