#is my last body a giant good luck charm??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haunted-xander · 2 years

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After the encounter at the shrine, Chiaki spent a long time simply wandering around, hoping to run into Nagito again. At some point, she saw a gigantic Monokuma strutting about, knocking away and crushing all the smaller Monokumas in it's path. It seemed to be approaching Towa Hills. Oh, that's right. I remember Komaeda-kun mentioning it when he was talking to Naegi-san and Fukawa-san... Something about a base? ...Maybe I should've payed more attention.

Tired of mindless wandering, she decided to approach the large building as well. As she got closer, she noticed a large group of people gathered nearby cheering for the giant Monokuma. These people... I get a bad feeling about them. I'll just... watch from a distance.

Chiaki concealed herself behind some of the piles of debris. Despite this, a smoking woman with messy pink hair noticed her and approached. "Hey there. Haven't see you before, you a new rescue?" Unlike the rest of the crowd, the lady before her seemed pretty normal. Her voice was relaxed and mature, practically oozing the energy of a well-experienced older woman. Chiaki was so stunned by her aura she forgot to reply.

"...Lost for words, huh? Guess even young ladies like you aren't immune to my womanly charm. It's alright, you're not the first one. My name's Hiroko Hagakure, and you are?" Finally snapping out of her daze, Chiaki answered, "...Oh, sorry. I'm Chiaki Nanami, a member of Future Foundation, branch office 14. Nice to meet you, Hagakure-san."

"A Future Foundation member...? My, and here I thought the only member in the city was Fufu. Chiaki Nanami, huh? I'll just call you Nana then." Nana? ...Oh, I see. She took the first part of my family name and made it a nickname. And Fufu... Is probably Fukawa-san. So she's met her... "Sorry for all the ruckus, after Koko's motivational speech, the adults here have gotten a bit... too excited. It totally went to their heads."

"...Yeah, I can see that. Say... do you know anything about that big Monokuma?" The question had been stuck in Chiaki's mind ever since she saw it. "Oh, that? That's the Big Bang Monokuma. Towa-kun's controlling it. He said it was the adults' 'last hope', or something like that. From the looks of it, he's gonna go and bring down Towa Hills. Can't tell you anything more than that."

"...I see. Thanks for the info."

"Happy to help. You've probably got some important mission to carry out, right? I'll leave you alone then. Good luck, Nana." And with that, Hiroko walked back into the crowd. She seemed nice. ..Hmm, but... I feel like I've heard the name 'Hagakure' somewhere before... Chiaki decided to head into Towa Hills and see what was going on.

As it turns out, she never made it into the building. The Big Bang Monokuma had begun attacking it before she could get to the entrance and she had to retreat. It appeared to be held back by something though, as eventually it's neck exploded and the head flew up, eventually landing on it's original spot upside down. The giant robot fell backwards, crushing all the smaller Monokumas swarmed at it's feet.

Now that the assault was over, Chiaki cautiously approached the entrance again and snuck her way inside. Thanks to someone -presumably Toko and Komaru- having dealt with all the obstacles and enemies in the building, she could ride the elevator up to the top floor immediately. She went through several rooms and short stairs before arriving at a white room filled with debris.

Inside the room, she saw Nagito attempting to lift the debris from over a small, green-haired girl's body. She walked inside, drawing the attention to her. "...Ah, Nanami-san...? What are you doing here...? Did you come to help Komaru Naegi? You are much too late I'm afraid..." Nagito was out of breath, clearly exhausted from moving the bits of debris away. "Oh, it's you. The Future Foundation lady. Are you here to deal with Monaca?" Oh, so she's 'Monaca'.

"...No, I just saw the big Monokuma and wondered why it was attacking this place. Since it was defeated, I decided to go inside to check it out. ...What are you doing here, Komaeda-kun?" She could see he wanted to help Monaca out, though she doesn't know why. "...Ah, That... Well, I had... planned to leave once the... Big Bang Monokuma showed up, but I... changed my mind and... decided to see things through to the end." He paused several times to breathe. "And I'm... glad I did. It would be... such a shame to let... Monaca-san's potential go to waste... all because her plan didn't work."

"Hey, can you hurry up? It hurts being crushed by debris. Monaca's tired of being unable to go anywhere." Monaca started pouting at Nagito pausing his attempts at getting her out, ignoring the fact he clearly haven't made much headway and already looked ready to collapse. "Ah, my apologies, Monaca-san. I will get... back to helping you." Not wanting to see him actually collapse, Chiaki started to help without a word. "Nanami-san...?"

"Don't talk. You're pretty tired already, right? I don't want you to collapse, so I'll help."

"...You're so weird, Big Sis. You do know who I am, right? It'd be much better for you if I just died." Chiaki ignored her, leading Monaca to spout an endless stream of comments about of how weird and stupid she is at her. "...I really wish you'd just kill me. I already failed, there's no reason for me to live anymore." That almost got a reply from Chiaki, but she continued to stay silent.

By the time the debris was moved enough for her to be lifted up, Monaca had talked herself into exhaustion and had fallen asleep. Nagito didn't look much better off. "...Hey hey, what are we gonna do about her? It sounds like you've got plans for her, but maybe we should just take her home with us instead?" She didn't voice it, but the real reason she wanted to bring Monaca home was to make sure Nagito didn't use her for any other despair-inducing plans. ...Well, one of the reasons.

"...Is really that a good idea...? What about... Naegi-kun and Kirigiri-san...? They won't... be happy about it. Especially not... Naegi-kun..." He had a point, but Chiaki was stubborn. "We could always just say it's to keep an eye on her. And besides, they were fine with letting you and Kamukura-kun stay. I think we'll be fine." Naegi-kun will probably be a bit upset, but he'll understand... maybe. She's just a child, after all. "...For now, let's get out of here. I'm tired of this place. I wanna head home already..." She rubbed her eye sleepily.

"...Alright, let us be on our way, then." Nagito laid Monaca on the ground before turning around and putting her arms over her shoulders and put his hands under her legs, carrying her piggy-back style. Without another word, they left the building and started walking on a road away from the crowd of adults.

As they were walking, Chiaki noticed Nagito staggering, his still bleeding thighs making his legs even weaker when combined with the exhaustion. "Komaeda-kun-"

Before she could finish her sentence, he fell forward and she rushed to hold him up. "Komaeda-kun! L-let's take a break. You're in no state to walk right now. I'll... take care of Monaca-san too, okay?" Completely ignoring her, Nagito started to blush and looked forward with a tired, but no less lovesick expression.

"Kamukura-sama..." Kamukura-kun? At that, she followed his line of sight and saw Izuru walking towards them, rolling a trolley with Shirokuma and a pitch black Monokuma's heads on it. "...Kamukura-kun? What are you doing here? I thought you were still home..." He stopped right in front of them, letting go of the trolley and placing Nagito inside. Afterwards, he picked up the sleeping Monaca and placed her on Nagito's lap. The girl instinctively curled up into his chest.

Finally, Izuru turned back to Chiaki and said the first thing she'd heard from him in a while. "Let's go. There is no reason to stay here anymore."

"...Alright, let's go." She started walking alongside him. Some time after, the black Monokuma head started talking, "Yo man, where the hell you takin' us now!? You 'n' that big boobed babe gonna kidnap us and torture is with watching ya get it on or something? Aren't you a massive pervert! Bet this BDSM bastard over here will enjoy it though!"

Chiaki hated this guy already. She decided to just ignore him. Clearly, the bear didn't like the lack of response, "HEEEEY, are you guys ignorin' me!? Don't ya know I'm a total-"

"Please, shut up. You will wake Monaca-san." Nagito was uncharacteristically stern. Guess Chiaki's not the only one who can't stand the Monokuma's chattering. "Oh Kurokuma, please try to be quiet! Little Monaca-chan needs her sleep to grow big and strong!" Shirokuma -who Chiaki had thought wasn't functioning anymore- started gently reprimanding the other robot head. "She must be so tired after everything that happened... not to mention all the rubble she got crushed by! Poor girl... it must hurt a lot..." Nagito was clearly done with their bantering. "You shut up too. I hate you both."

"M-me too!?"

"AHAHAHAHA! Looks like this bottom has a back-bone after all! Bet you're the kind of servant who acts all sweet and obedient during the day, but at night YOU'RE the one giving orders! AHAHAHAHA ISN'T THAT JUST HILARIOUS!? Imagine THIS GUY giving orders! AHAHAHA-"

Izuru briefly stopped walking to smash his hands into Shirokuma and Kurokuma's heads and ripped something small enough that Chiaki couldn't see it clenched in his fists. As the two bears shut down, Izuru put the parts into his pockets. Apparently having woken up some time during the commotion, Monaca spoke up, "...Where are we going?"

"Home."

"...That's not an answer, Mr. stalker."

Izuru lifted a brow. "...Stalker? Who, exactly, do you believe I would be stalking?" At that, Monaca cocked her head with an innocent expression. "Who are you stalking? Monaca thinks it's obvious. Mr. Stalker is stalking Big Sis and Mr. Servant, of course! The Monokuma kids have seen you following them around all the time. Ever since Big Sis came to Towa City, you've been following her and Mr. Servant around."

"I am observing them to ensure their safety. 'Stalking' implies malicious intent or an obsession with the people in question, neither of which I have." He continued to deny the accusation, but did confirm he was, in fact, following them around. "...Anyway, tell me where you're taking me, Mr. Stalker. I don't trust you, so I want to make sure you're not taking Monaca and Mr. Servant to some dangerous place. Monaca can't protect herself, and Mr. Servant is weak and useless."

Noticing Izuru had decided to ignore her, Chiaki replied instead, "...We're going to our apartment. There's only us and two other Future Foundation members there, so it's pretty safe. The only problem we've had is Komaeda-kun's occasional episodes. ...Mr. Stalker usually deals with it before it can get too bad, though." Izuru scoffed.

"...I don't like that Mr. Stalker has that much power over Mr. Servant. He's MY servant, not yours." Monaca pouted, a far too childish expression for the implications behind her words. "It's okay. I won't let Mr. Stalker do anything, I promise." The girl squinted at Chiaki, thinking over her words. In the end, she nodded on affirmation. "Hm, okay! If Big Sis promises to watch Mr. Stalker, then I guess it's okay."

A yawn forced it's way out of Monaca's mouth. "...Mmm I'm tired. Monaca's gonna take a nap. Good night, Big sis." Immediately after she spoke, she curled back up into Nagito's chest and promptly fell asleep.

Chiaki gave a small smile, and walked home with a new addition to their odd 'family'.

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

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Gene... My baby mama... I need... More alt!dream... Whatever you got fr. I just need more I'm.. I love him (probs not as much as you) but I love him

You're in luck bc I'm running on rip fuel for him. [ALSO I WROTE THIS BEFORE EVERYONE DID THE TECHWEAR STUFF FOR HIM I'M SORRY. I'LL GET IT IN NEXT TIME. I PINKY SWEAR.]

𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐃. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), language, semi-public sex, light mentions of needles, domination

previous part ♘ fanart that i can't stop crying over

recommended listening: Hi Frequency by Vague002

The bus swayed slightly, your grip on the cool bar tightening to keep you from knocking into Clay as it turned. The dark city outside the windows bustled with sparkling lights, catching your eye every few seconds. As more people filed into the cramped space, Clay grabbed your hand, looping your arms around his waist and smugly grinning as you fought not to blush. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Will this be your first time in a parlor?” He asked, voice low and raspy as he whispered to you, not wanting to disturb the other members of society who just wanted to get home after a long day of work.

You nodded your head, making him chuckle. You knew it would be a different experience, mainly because it was taking place during the tattoo shops “after hours,” which Clay had only briefly explained the benefits of attending. “What are you getting done again?” You asked, moving so your hands were holding onto his arm instead, fingers brushing against the exposed skin peeking from beneath the cut-up shirt under his dark jacket.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t decide. Why don’t you pick?” He joshed, smirking at the way your eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to be responsible for a mark on you,” you murmured, making him snort.

He hooked his fingers into the neckline of his shirt, stretching it down enough to reveal the litter of hickeys peppering his skin that you had left the night before. Your eyes widened as you swatted away his hand, looking around carefully in hopes that no one had seen them. He looped an arm around your shoulders, loving the fact that you were so worried about the crowd when all he wanted to do was fluster you.

He pressed his lips to your cheek, the warmth of his body encompassing you. “I love it when you get all blushy,” he teased. “Seriously though, you should pick. I won’t look at it if I don’t like it,” he snarked.

You groaned lightly. “Clay, come on.” He brushed his lips against yours.

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he cooed almost mockingly, his nose moving to press into your hair.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying your best to remember what was already on his body. You thought about the impending reality that whenever he saw the new tattoo, his mind would linger on you, and for some reason, heat traveled to your ears at that thought. “Um… what about a bird?” You asked, voice uneasy as if on eggshells.

His face twisted into a pleased smile. “A bird?” He repeated. You shrugged beneath his arm, making him chuckle. “I like that. George likes doing bird tattoos too, so you might just make his night,” he added, his praise and approval making your stomach fill with confidence. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your shoulder. Your mind began to forget what the two of you probably looked like to the other people as his scent invaded your senses. “Will you hold my hand while I’m in the chair?” He joked.

You scoffed. “Are you gonna cry?” You teased, making him chuckle.

“No, I’m just clingy,” he answered without skipping a beat. Your grin was hidden in the soft corduroy of his jacket.

The tattoo parlor was nothing like you had expected. The door was locked behind you after a bouncer let the two of you in, the man leading you two up a staircase and into a dimly lit room. The sound of heavy metal music and the buzz of tattoo guns swirled together, echoing off the dark brick walls. You slipped your hand into Clay’s as he talked to the receptionist, your eyes attempting to focus on one detail instead of letting the atmosphere overwhelm you.

The thick layer of smoke above your heads made you scoff, realizing it was coming from the opposite corner of the shop, a hookah lamp sitting on a coffee table like an outstretched octopus. The people around it seemed to be discussing something rather intense, their haircuts sharp and defining almost as if they stepped out of some kind of alternative fashion magazine. There were three tattoo artists, each with a white lamp focusing on their work as they carried on to the beat of the music.

Clay’s description of the place flashed into your mind, making you realize just how off the cards the parlor actually was. Clay took a toothpick from the receptionist’s desk, taking it between his white teeth before being waved down by a shorter man with dark hair across the floor. You followed closely behind him as Clay greeted the man; you quickly realizing that this was the famous George.

As Clay shrugged out of his jacket, George pulled out a binder, standing beside you as he flipped to a page with scattered drawings of different flight poses of birds. Your eyes drifted away from the page as Clay’s arms came into view. His old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off was doing wonders for his biceps. Before you knew it, the two of you agreed on a mix of a few designs resembling a crow and Clay was laying on his back with his hand tucked behind his head. The spot he was filling was in the dead center of the flesh of his upper arm; a spot that George had grumbled about being awkward to reach, especially on someone as large as Clay.

You watched closely with curious eyes as George began to tattoo the design on Clay’s arm. Clay’s other hand was wrapped around the back of your elbow as you leaned on the chair at Clay’s side. His finger pads drew circles into your skin as you asked George about how he got into tattooing, making small talk here and there.

You liked George, mainly because he was quiet until he conjured up some kind of relentless backhanded comment. His tattoos revolved around a giant tree stretching from his back and down his arms. You wondered how long he had to sit for it and what the healing process was like. As he worked, his teeth played at his snake bite piercings, his dark eyes focused intently on the work in front of him.

Clay switched his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his hand tightening around your arm with a small groan as George reached a sensitive spot. “Don’t be such a pussy,” he grumbled, continuing his work. He stopped, cleaning off some of the sprayed ink and filling a new cap with grey. “You have any work, pretty girl?” He asked you, voice low and charming.

You shook your head, earning a small tsk from him. “This is the closest she’s been to a tattoo gun,” Clay prided, making George sarcastically raise his eyes.

“A total virgin, huh?” He joked, winking at you. “Dream’s not corrupting you, is he?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek trying not to blush. “I’m trying,” Clay leered, smirking at you with his smug ego hinting at his lips.

George bit back a laugh. “Don’t get horny in my chair,” he muttered, eyes trained on the lines he was scaring into Clay. “Speaking of, I heard you got busted up by Punz, and by the looks of it… seems right,” he commented, gesturing to Clay’s eye that seemed to have started fading finally.

Clay let out a dry laugh. “His ribs are still healing,” you added, making George smirk with a shake of his head.

“You know what all that’s about right?” George asked you, taking his foot off the pedal to grab more paper towels from his desk. You looked up at Clay whose jaw tense as he chewed on the toothpick. After you shook your head, George continued. “Punz’s sister is stupidly in love with Dream,” he plopped back in his seat, swiveling his chair, and drawing a hand through his locks, revealing the bleached undersection. You had the fleeting mental image of him tying his hair back to reveal it.

He pulled on a new glove. “Madly in love, huh?” You pried, twisting your chair closer to Clay’s shoulder. Clay rolled his eyes at the fact as if he had been bugged about it for years. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend, Clay,” you teased, and he looked up at you with a tired expression, making you bite back a giggle.

After George finished, you followed Clay through the door, breathing in the fresh air; or as fresh as it could be in the midst of the city’s industrial square. Clay’s fingers knitted together with yours as he led you down an alleyway, flicking aside the toothpick. You chewed on your lip in anticipation before he pinned you against one of the walls. His devious grin sent shivers down your spine as you looked up at him.

You swallowed. “Shouldn’t you take it easy? Let your arm heal a bit?” You asked, voice coming out in a soft whisper as his lips pressed against your neck. “Won’t it hurt a bit with your ribs, too?” Your heart hammered in your chest at the fact that someone could turn the corner and catch the two of you.

He chuckled against your skin, slipping his hands beneath your skirt to grip your ass. “I like the pain,” he mused, tongue grazing against your skin as he pulled your hips against his. He kissed you hungrily as if not being able to press his body against yours for that hour was too much for him. His hand dropped to wrap around the back of your knee, moving his own leg to prop your thigh up against his hip as your hands dug into his hair.

The friction from his jeans made you moan into his mouth as his hand moved beneath your shirt, fingers fitting beneath your bra to palm your breast. He mumbled praises against your lips at how good you made him feel and how beautiful you were.

He turned you, your hands planting against the coarse brick as he ground his hips against you. You bit your lip, trying not to be loud enough to draw attention to the two of you, which seemed to be the last thing on Clay’s mind as you heard him unbuckle his belt behind you. You could practically picture his cocky grin, controlling eyes set as his hand gripped onto your hips, shoving your underwear to the side. “You were so much fun to show off tonight,” he chided darkly, lips brushing against your shoulder. “Such a good girl.”

As he pushed into you, one of his hands moved to knot into your hair. He moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, tugging on your hair as he pulled your hips back against his. A low grunt tumbled from his lips as he set his rhythm, basking in the fact that you were secretly ready for him to ruin you as soon as you stepped into the parlor.

His fingers moved to wrap around your neck, the thought of his tattooed hand tightening around your pristine skin sent shivers through your body and heat flushing your cheeks, the tension in your body tightening. As he pressed you closer against the wall, you thought about the power he had over you; his height and build would make it easy for him to break you if he wanted, yet even as he pounded into you like he wanted you to forget your own name, the restraint he showed was enough to send you over the edge if you let yourself divulge in the thought.

Clay pulled out of you, only to turn you, your shoulders hitting the wall again with a soft thump as he hoisted you up ever so slightly, thrusting up into you as his hand dig into your thigh, the other resting against the brick beside your head. Your arms looped beneath his jacket, raking down his skin as you held onto him.

He groaned as your thighs tightened around him, making his hips stutter as if he were trying not to let himself finish too early. He dug is face into the crook of your neck, burying his teeth in your neck to stifle his grunts of your name. Your head tilted back against the brick, hand moving to tighten around the wrist that was beside your head for some kind of anchor.

His hand wrapped around your waist, driving himself deeper into you, brushing the part of you that needed him the most. You moaned, carding your fingers into his hair as he pressed his lips to yours roughly, wanting to taste your pleasure as it washed over you from his movements.

You tugged on his hair, making his cock throb inside of you, him finishing inside you with a low groan, his hips snapping against yours to stimulate a reaction from you. The feeling of his sloppy pleasure as his movements lost their rhythm sent your hips grinding against his, his teeth marking your shoulders as a reminder of his work on you.

Your toes curled, finally reaching your orgasm as he murmured dirty expressions of him ruining your pretty clothes against the wall. As he pulled out of you, your knees felt weak, threatening to buckle beneath you. You tried not to give off how much he had trashed you, but the warmth snaking down your thighs and your bliss-ridden mind proved otherwise.

Long story short, the bus ride home was rather interesting.

Dream Taglist: (follow this link to be added :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @darphobic @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @lindsayhunz @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @victory-is-here @rat-poisin

#dream x fem!reader #dream x reader #alt!dream #alt!dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken smut #dreamwastaken fanfic #dream smut #dream imagine #dream x you #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt smut

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jynzandtonic · 4 years

Text

HOLY SHIT I FINALLY DID IT, Y’ALL! A COMPLETE MASTERLIST! All of my writings are laid out under the cut. XOXOXO!

Last updated: October 4, 2021 (refresh the masterlist)

Hop on the taglist! - Join the Discord! - Say hi on AO3! - buy me a whiskey! - READ & SUPPORT ADCU WRITERS OF COLOR

Aaaand just a quick reminder...

ADAM SACKLER - Girls (2012-2017)

- FICS -

MEET THE BOYS: Adam Sackler - (450 words)

an intro to Sackler in the jynzandtonic universe

The Show Must Go On - AO3 - (1.8k + 1.7k + 2k words)

{part 1} - {part 2} - {part 3}

switch!Sackler x switch!reader: “omg they were quarantined!” w/ anonymous webcam sex and edging

Cherry - (1.6k + ? words)

{part 1} - {part 2 tba; it’s on the back burner!}

Daddy!Sackler x virgin!reader: reader has a daddy kink and innocence kink, initiates a pre-negotiated roleplay scenario for their first time sexual experience

Swiped - AO3 - audio - (1.2k + 1.3k + 2k words)

FULL FIC + AUDIO or {part 1} - {part 2} - {part 3}

Sackler x inexperienced/virgin!reader: “omg and they were roommates!” w/ idiots-to-lovers, instruction, dirty talk

Cake - (1k + 1.9k + ?) - to be continued!

{part 1} - {part 2} - {part 3}

Sackler asks what you want for your birthday. You ask for DAT BOOTY. Switch!Sackler x switch!reader pegging fic!

What to Expect - AO3 - (30k+) - WIP!

ch.1 - ch.2 - ch.3 - ch.4 - ch.5 - ch.6 - ch.7 - ch.8 - ch.9 - ch.10 - ch.11 - ch.12 - ch.13 - ch.14 - ch.15 (epilogue)

You decide to have a baby via donor, but your friend across the hall offers to help out the old-fashioned way. Preggo/Babyfic feat. Sackler!

Whole - AO3 - (500 words)

There are days when it feels like you just can’t get out of bed. There are days when you feel like you’re broken. But with Adam, you know you’re never really alone.

Ask Her - AO3 - audio - (5k words)

When you let it slip that you fooled around with your best friend back in the day, Sackler asks if you’d do it again. When you say you would, he can’t seem to let the idea of the three of you go. Maybe—just maybe—all you have to do is ask her.

Basic Instinct - AO3 - (25k)

ch.1 - ch. 2 - ch. 3 - ch. 4 - ch. 5 - ch. 6 - ch.7 - ch. 8

It’s a lucky coincidence—when you’re desperately searching for a new place, Adam Sackler has a room for rent. Plus, alphas and betas make great roommates, right? … Right?

- THOTS -

Losing your virginity to Sackler

Adam making you cum while out at dinner w/ his parents

Sackler fingerfucking you on a rollercoaster

Facefucking and spitting in your mouth

Sackler screeching for cuddles

Sackler finding ‘innocent’ virgin!reader’s vibrator

Feeling needy and giving Sackler a sloppy, lovey BJ

Sackler teaching anxious reader how to give him head

Sackler wanting to see your lipstick smeared on his cock

Shy reader pulling The Lip Bite (TM) on Adam

Temperature play w/ ice cubes

Shy reader turning passionate for Sackler

What are the odds: wearable vibe at work

You and Sackler jerking each other off at a movie theater

Fucking you so hard you forget you even met your ex

Soft dom!reader overstimulating sweet Sackler

Adam eating your pussy on a hike

Riding Sackler’s face to shut him the fuck up

Sweet, soft sex with Sackler in front of your ex

Soft, sleepy morning sex

Adam loving on your teeny tiny titties

Gremlin!Sackler fingering the fuck outta you

Shit-talking switch!Sackler feat. some bondage

Catching Sackler jerkin’ it and playing with his titties

Some very possessive dirty talk

Adam finding virgin!reader’s dildo

Sackler ‘helping’ busy student!reader unwind

Proud reader fucking Sackler backstage between shows

Sackler buys you your very first vibe

Sackler pulling up your sundress and fucking you in the park

Sleeping in *ahem* too small of a bed with roommate Sackler

Sex that sent you and Sackler to the ER

Sackler in a healthy, communicative relationship

Sackler comforting a reader far away from home

Sackler with asexual!reader

- SNACCS -

Random shit that Adam says in bed with you

Pregnancy kink with Adam Sackler

Sackler’s nicknames for reader

Daddy!Adam Sackler daydreams

Misc Sackler hcs: dirty talk, sex, exhibitionism, domestic fluff

Songs on my Sackler “bedroom playlist”

Comparing the temperature of your mouth and cunt

Sackler eating out nervous!reader for the first time

How Sackler gives kisses

Dan + Sackler soothing your anxiety

Making grumpy Sackler BEG FOR IT

Bashful Sackler hcs

On Adam’s chaotic!switch tendencies

NSFW Alphabet: Cum + Fave Position

On seeing a usually self conscious partner feel confident about their body

Adam Sackler loves love

Sexy HCs: cum, masturbation, oral, kinks, pussy-eating

CLYDE LOGAN - Logan Lucky (2017)

- FICS -

Meet the Boys: Clyde Logan

Maybe - AO3 - (1k words)

breeding kink/creampie WITHOUT the possibility/goal of reader becoming pregnant

Clyde gets ASMR - AO3 - (1k words)

Your sweet boy Clyde is the first guest on your ASMR channel. SFW fluff, can you believe it?!

Solstice - AO3 - (3k + 1.8k words)

{part 1} - {part 2}

It happens every Winter Solstice–you shift into a fox and wander the West Virginian woods for the longest night of the year. When you’re injured in an accident, the kind local bartender takes you into his care. Little does he know you’ll shift back into your human form come sunrise… without a shred of clothing on you.

The Plunge - AO3 - (3.4k words)

Clyde's not too hot on the idea of you swimmin' all by yourself at night, so it's up to you to convince him to join you for some moonlight skinny dipping.

In Vino Veritas - AO3 - (6.6k words)

In Vino Veritas — ‘In Wine, Truth.' You open up your very own wine bar, but one Boone County bartender isn’t particularly pleased about it. When a rift emerges between the two of you, will you find a way to mend it? And is there really “truth in wine?”

Eyes Wide Open - AO3 - (1.5k words)

It's all anonymous, and you're so hungry for a lover's touch. You'll never see him; he'll never know you. After an hour together, you'll part ways and never cross paths again. You couldn't find each other if you tried. As luck would have it, you might not need to.

- THOTS -

Rowdy fuckin’ with Clyde

Clyde comforting reader after a fight with a parent/other

Touch-starved, babbling, dirty-talking Clyde

Daddy!Clyde fucking bratty reader while decorating the xmas tree

Clyde getting riled up watching you do stretches

Mirror-fucking and dirty-talk with Clyde

Phone sex with Clyde

Teaching Clyde to dance

Making Clyde do a homemade facemask*

Clyde wants a baby for Christmas

Admiring and loving on Clyde’s soft cock

The first time Clyde made your cheeks go hot

Filthy fucking at Duck Tape with Clyde

Clyde’s very first time eating pussy*

Crying on Clyde’s cock

Clyde making you cum seven times in a row (for luck, y’know)

Facesitting with Daddy!Clyde

Clyde fucking your ass at Duck Tape after seeing your plug

Leaving the big city and reassuring Clyde of your choice

Waking Clyde up with some slow head

Sweet n sensual mirror sex with Clyde

Clyde comforting you with slow lovemaking

Clyde comforting isolated reader

Sending/receiving nude pics with Clyde

Corrupting sweet sub!Clyde

- SNACCS -

Clyde comforting sad reader (gn)

Clyde + breeding kink/pregnancy - part 1

Clyde + breeding kink/pregnancy - part 2

Clyde + breeding kink/pregnancy - part 3

Clyde with a lactation kink

Clyde taking care of you when you’re sick

Netflix and... cockwarming. oops

Riding Clyde’s cock. That’s it. That’s the post.

Marking his territory with creampies

Fantasizing about meeting Clyde at the bar

Clyde x SIZE KINK

Loving fussing over Clyde

High school Clyde (uwu)

Telling Clyde you want to have a baby

Clyde being protective of you

NSFW Alphabet: Oral + Jack Off

Clyde eating pussy

MORE Clyde and breeding kink

The first time you have sex with Clyde feat. SIZE KINK

Sexy HCs: creampies, pussy-eating, and pregnancy

FLIP ZIMMERMAN - Blackkklansman (2017)

- FICS -

Under the Stars - AO3 - (2.8k)

Flip Zimmerman’s always talking shit—even about the gear you’ve brought on your weekend camping trip. When the rain rolls in, will you help him out with a dry place to sleep?

Sweeter Than Honey (multichapter)- coming soon!

- THOTS -

Visiting Flip at the station to show him your new lipstick

Flip daring you to sit on a vibe for 20min (overstim)

Coming home to find you in lingerie + his flannel

Fucking you in the archives division and telling you to keep quiet

GOOD COP BAD COP feat. Flip + Ronnie

Mirror sex in a dressing room

Breeding kink w/ Flip*

Your first time with Flip - part 1

Your first time with Flip - part 2

Fucking the brat out of you at a holiday party

Flip taking care of you after a long work day

Lovey-dovey drunk sex with Flip

Playing strip-poker with Flip

Slapping Flip (hint: it doesn’t go over well)

Flip spitting on your pussy

JUST how much Flip loves you

Slow lovemaking with Flip

- SNACCS -

Flip’s kinks, fave things to do in bed, and aftercare

Flip cheering you up after a bad day

Visiting Flip at the station in your skimpiest outfit

Flip being territorial over you in public

L.E.O. boys on National Horny Day

Flip being charming and playful

NSFW Alphabet: Aftercare, Goofy, Motivation, Stamina, Unfair

Gender-affirming lovin’ with Flip (transmasc!reader)

Semi-public sex and getting caught

On the subject of Flip’s balls

Growing old with Flip

OFFICER RONNIE PETERSON - The Dead Don’t Die (2018)

- FICS -

MEET THE BOYS: Ronnie Peterson - (1k words)

an intro to Ronnie in the jynzandtonic universe, in which the ending of The Dead Don’t Die is gleefully retconned

Holds Two Nicely - AO3 - (2k + ? words)

{part 1} - {part 2 coming soon}

switch!Ronnie gets road head in the Smart Car, and reader’s gonna pay for pulling that type of shenanigans

This Is The Way - AO3 - (2.6k words)

STAR WARS ROLEPLAY SEX WITH MANDO!RONNIE

Bad Day - AO3 - (2k)

blowing off a bad day with some mutual masturbation + squirting

- THOTS -

Meet the Boys: Officer Ronnie Peterson

Hand kink w/ Ronnie’s giant paws

Deepthroating + dirty talk with sweet + spicy bby Ronnie

Rescuing Ronnie from the apocalypse and settling in the big city

GOOD COP BAD COP feat. Flip + Ronnie

Handcuffing and domming Ronnie

Ronnie can’t keep his hands off you at the PD holiday party

Sitting on Ronnie’s face... HE LIKES IT.

Mando!Reader doms subby Ronnie

Cockwarming as a form of dominance with switch!Ronnie

DOUBLE PENETRATION with Ronnie + a Clone-A-Willy

Ronnie finding you half-naked in a Stormtrooper costume

Thigh-riding Ronnie at the station

Ronnie overstimulating you with a clit-sucker + cockwarming

Giving Ronnie head in the bathroom at a frat party

Ronnie spanking you after he has a rough day skiing

Make-up snuggling with Ronnie after a fight

Virgin!Ronnie x virgin!reader thots

Sending/receiving nudes with Ronnie

- SNACCS -

Fluffy/dirty HCs for nerdy boy Ronnie

What are Ronnie’s hugs like?

How Ronnie dresses when he’s not in uniform

L.E.O. boys on National Horny Day

Dan + Ronnie on Daddy kink

Ronnie Peterson Tummy Appreciation Post

NSFW Alphabet: Jack Off, Zzzzz, + Dirty Secret

CHARLIE BARBER - Marriage Story (2019)

- FICS -

MEET THE BOYS: Charlie Barber - (550 words)

an intro to Charlie in the jynzandtonic universe, which occurs solely post-Marriage Story

Exit Stage Right - AO3 - (1k words)

Theater smut and a very protective, soft Daddy!Charlie

Special Spot - AO3 - (850 words)

Daddy!Charlie is stressed from work and asks you to play with his ass

Business or Pleasure - AO3 - (1.7k words + ?) - WIP!

{part 1} - {part 2}

CHARLIE BARBER x READER x DAN JONES THREESOME

Lost and Found - AO3 - (4.6k words)

You’re an artist in New York City patiently waiting to find your soulmate. But what happens if your soulmate didn’t wait to find you?

- THOTS -

Desperate, touch-starved fucking with Charlie

Cockwarming in the theater with Charlie

Charlie buying sex toys for reader

Building IKEA furniture + drinking wine

How Kind of You to Let Me Cum: etiquette kink with Daddy!Charlie

Counting belt spankings for Daddy!Charlie

Charlie rubbing your clit on the subway

Daddy!Charlie feat. squirting kink

Charlie comforting you after a hard day

Christmas party cockwarming with Charlie

Thigh-riding Charlie in his office

Professor!Charlie Barber fucking you in the library stacks

Charlie and a little bit of voyeurism/exhibitionism

Teasing Charlie like a little brat

Charlie fucking nonbinary!reader senseless for looking too good

Sleepy morning head with Charlie + erogenous zones

Charlie punishing you with edging, spanking, and overstim

Wearing Charlie’s hand like a necklace + mirror sex

Late-night somnophilia with Charlie

Distracting Professor!Charlie during office hours

Getting messy making pancakes with Charlie

Cockwarming for Charlie during his zoom meetings

Charlie taking his frustration out on you + aftercare

Student/teacher cockwarming with Professor!Barber

Falling asleep after sex with Charlie

Soft breeding kink feels with Charlie

- SNACCS -

Misc Charlie hcs: nicknames, sex, aftercare, + more

Charlie sending you gorgeous NYC lingerie

d-d-d-d-DADDY KINK + more

NSFW Alphabet: Unfair - remote control vibe

NSFW Alphabet: Cum, Jack Off, Fave Position, Goofy, Stamina

Charlie teaching you your manners before a fancy date

Daddy!Charlie on erotic piercings

Threesomes with Charlie: Adam, Dan, + Toby

PHILLIP ALTMAN - This Is Where I Leave You (2014)

- FICS -

A Great American Pastime - coming soon!

- THOTS -

Edging bratty sub!Phillip

Phillip messing with you during Passover Seder

Sudsy shower sex with Altman

Altman fucking you in the pool during a family bbq

Making Philly cum in his pants at a house party

Phillip buying you a naughty present

Pegging bratty Phillip

Phillip degrading + facefucking you

Handcuffing Phillip and riding his face

- SNACCS -

Phillip + Sackler on the BDSM test

NSFW Alphabet: Goofy, Motivation, Unfair, Volume

Spending Hanukkah with Phillip

Sending/receiving nude pics with Phillip

DAN JONES (au context) - The Report (2019)

- FICS -

MEET THE BOYS: Dan Jones - (550 words)

an intro to Dan in the jynzandtonic universe, in which he is still a Senate staffer and the lead investigator for the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence; this is not RPF

Business or Pleasure - AO3 - (1.7k words + ?) - WIP!

{part 1} - {part 2}

CHARLIE BARBER x READER x DAN JONES THREESOME

Long Day - AO3 - (2.7k words)

DOM!Dan Jones!

Consumed by his work for the Senate Intelligence Committee, Dan comes home to you tense and exhausted, desperate for an outlet for his stress. Lucky for him, his little dove always knows just what he needs.

Professor!Dan Jones AU - coming soon!

- THOTS -

Sensual phone sex with Dan

Subby!Dan with assistant!reader

Riding the fuck out of Dan in his office chair (drabble)

Disciplining Dan when he’s misbehaved

Semi-public sex with riled-up Daniel

Dan begging you to swallow his cum*

Surprising Dan with head when he comes home from work

- SNACCS -

Dan + Sackler soothing your anxiety

Dan + Ronnie on Daddy kink

Dan with a shy!reader

Aftercare with Dan

NSFW Alphabet: Cum, Jack Off, + Toys

TOBY GRISONI (GRUMMET) - The Man Who Killed Don Quixote (2016)

- FICS -

You Can, You Shall, You Must (multichapter) - coming soon!

- THOTS -

Distracting Toby mid-film by being a brat

Toby eating your pussy on the train + getting caught

- SNACCS -

Misc Toby HCs: fucking, protectiveness, aesthetics

Misc Toby HCs: thigh-riding, hair-braiding, polaroids

NSFW Alphabet: Kinks + WILDCARDS

Toby mustache HCs

RICK SMOLAN (au context) - Tracks (2013)

- FICS -

Meet Me in Moab (Vanlife!Rick AU) - coming soon!

- THOTS -

Watching sub!Rick jerk himself off for you

Rick shooting outdoor lingerie photos

Fucking a very touch-starved Rick

Making Rick cum in his pants

Rick worshipping readers phat titties

- SNACCS -

Roadtripping with Rick

Rick tickling and teasing your pussy

PAUL SEVIER - Midnight Special (2015)

- FICS -

Sugar Daddy!Paul Sevier AU - coming soon!

- THOTS -

Praise kink with sweet Sevvy

Catching feelings for Sugar Daddy!Sevier

Sugar Daddy!Sevier comforting you during hard times

Paul spanking you with his file folders

Giving Sevvy head so good he cries

Overstimulating sub!Sevier

Somnophilia with Sevier

-SNACCS-

Sevier comforting sad reader

ALL OF THE BOYS

DOM/SUB x LAWFUL-NEUTRAL-CHAOTIC Chart

- THOTS -

Dirty texts from all of the boys

How the boys feel about stretch marks

Cute lil’ domestic arguments with Clyde, Ronnie, Charlie, Dan, + Flip

The boys with pregnant!reader

The boys on hickies and love-bites

The boys on period sex

Loving on fat!reader

Sunday morning snuggles and ~shagging~

How the boys would ask you to move in with them

The boys with a nonbinary!reader (they/them)

How the boys would spend a snow-day with you

- SNACCS -

The boys on thicc thighs

Dominant/submissive x LNC chart for the boys

Charlie + Ronnie comforting sad reader

~Soft~ hcs for Flip, Dan, Sevier, Ronnie, + Phillip

TRUTH OR DARE with Sackler, Clyde, + Flip - part 1

TRUTH OR DARE with Sackler, Clyde, + Flip - part 2

TRUTH OR DARE with Charlie, Phillip, Ronnie, + Dan

Top three boys with a breeding kink

The boys on the BDSM test

Flip, Daddy!Charlie, Clyde, + Sackler on being called ‘himbos’

A lil’ bit of clit worship

Sweet + spicy hcs with Clyde + Sackler

Sweet + spicy hcs with Flip + Ronnie

What kind of porn the boys watch/read

Falling asleep and waking up with you

What to do to get the boys weak for you

Must-have songs on their “bedroom playlists”

How kinky do the boys get + fave positions

How the boys rate in the exhibitionist category

The boys taking care of you when you’re sick

NSFW Alphabet: Aftercare with Sackler + Charlie

NSFW Alphabet: WILDCARD

NSFW Alphabet: Experience

NSFW Alphabet: Dirty Secret

NSFW Alphabet: Location

NSFW Alphabet: No

The boys with a transman (transmasc!reader)

What the boys sound like before they cum

On finding out you’re bisexual

What the boys are like when they’re drunk: Toby, Dan, + Rick

What the boys are like when they’re drunk: Charlie, Clyde, Flip, + Ronnie

How the boys give hugs

What the boys prefer to fuck

Reverse cowgirling Charlie, Dan, Sackler, + Clyde

What alcohol the boys like to drink

A few New Year’s Resolutions

How the boys feel about verbal debasement/degradation kink

Size kink with Flip, Ronnie, + Clyde

Favorite rewards for The Subby Boys (TM)

Romantic nights with Flip, Charlie, + Clyde

Reactions to participating in skin-care pamering night

On dating a reader who does camming

The Babie-Daddy-Gremlin Triangle

The boys helping you when you’re overwhelmed with work

WHICH OF THE BOYS...

Would be most likely to roleplay Mulder/Scully with you

Is most likely to cum on you vs. cum in you

Likes to be called “Sir” (for scientific purposes)

Has the biggest dick - part 1

Has the biggest dick - part 2 (NSFW Alphabet)

Has the best cock

Prefer showers or baths

Is the dirtiest and softest

Give the best back scratches when tucking you in

Wear speedos vs. trunks

Want to bring snacks to sexytime (food kink)

Is an ass man vs. a boobs man

Would be into having a threesome, and what kind

Would want to have children*

Is the best at eating you out

Has the heaviest balls feat. @clydesducktape

Love facials the most

Is most likely to eat ass

Do I ship with each other + threesome ideas : paul x rick threesome, flip x phillip

Like to dole out orgasm denial/edging

Is the cuddliest

Is most likely to fuck the bratty attitude out of you

Has an edging kink

_____

MATT THE RADAR TECHNICIAN

- FICS -

The Dungeon Master - AO3 - (1.7k words + 1.9k)

{part 1} - {part 2}

Matt plays D&D on Thursday nights, and you decide to interrupt him for a good dicking. You get more than you bargained for.

CHAOTIC DOM!Matt

-THOTS + SNACCS -

HCs: Matt the Radar Tech, Cameron the Actor, + Mr. Ketchup

HCs: very NSFW chaotic-dom!Matt the Radar Tech things

Matt the Radar Technician’s pet chinchilla, Greg by @rollerdiscodiva

How you got together with Matt + misc HCs

A few Matt x chubby!reader HCs

Feral Matt the Radar Tech being... sweet??

What Matt’s cock is like

Feral Matt being a little sweet after sex

Crumbs on soft!Matt

Surprising Matt with some DnD cosplay sex

Matt + first-time somnophilia

Matt congratulating you for acing a test the way he knows best

Trying to give Matt a slow, sweet blowjob

Keeping grumpy Matty up late with some deepthroating

Sweet Matt buying you succulents

_____

SNL BOYS

-THOTS + SNACCS -

Wearing Christmas Lingerie while Daddy McTavish tries to work on Zoom

Your first Christmas with Mr. McTavish and Mr. Pennyham (Sleepover Dad)

_____

KYLO/BEN SPECIAL WRITING EVENTS

-THOTS + SNACCS -

Kylo’s guilty pleasures

Kylo fucking his hand in the refresher

How Kylo/Ben shows everyone you belong to him

Sub!Kylo begging you to let him cum

Tending to each other’s wounds after defeating Snoke’s guard

Dom!Kylo fucking your throat

Kylo/Ben and possessive behavior

Kylo and pregnant reader snaccs

Rough, post-battle sex with Kylo

Tending to Smuggler!Ben’s wounds (Mando!Reader)

Sucking Kylo’s cock in the refresher

Cockwarming in the throne room

Kylo watching you kick ass in training

Sparring with Kylo till he fucks you senseless

Daddy!Kylo Ren overstimming and spanking your pussy

Kylo/Ben taking care of you after a hard mh day

_____

SPECIAL WRITING EVENTS

KINKTOBER 2021 MASTERLIST

A full month of kinky prompts with all your favorite boys!

Love Letters from The Boys

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

KINKS/TROPES - (will be expanded)

-additionally, all of these are tags that can be blocked 🖤-

daddy kink

hurt/comfort

virginity kink / innocence kink

pregnancy kink

breeding kink

size kink

fluff

body positivity

light verbal degradation / degradation kink

light bondage / bondage

light exhibitionism / exhibitionism / voyeurism

semi-public sex

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

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batsandbugs · 4 years

Text

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 4: The Three Stooges

AN: At least it hasn’t been two months again 😅. Let’s check in with the other batboys and see how they’re handling Damian and Marinette’s chaos.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Tim wondered when his day took a solid dive off the cliffs of normal and into the waters of weird.

It probably started when Dick dragged them out of bed at eight in the morning – on a Saturday – piled them into the car, and drove them an hour and a half out of the city to an IKEA. If they had actually been there to shop they would have either burned the store down or killed one another.

Not that those things were off the table yet.

Tim had work, actual work, that he could be doing. But no, instead he was playing a demented game of hide-and-go-seek, which was careening into an all-out war. The destroyed shelving units, shopping carts, and forklift were unmistakable evidence of that.

How had the demon spawn accomplished this in less than a minute?

Bruce would kill them, once he came back from off-world.

That is if Alfred didn’t get to them first.

“Uh, order 177? Shit, my pay isn't enough for this.”

The words shook Tim from his stupor. He walked over to the counter.

“Hi,” he said, flashing his most charming CEO grin. “I have a quick question?”

The server's fixed smile contrasted with his dull eyes.

“I need to know what way the boy who ordered this headed.”

“No.”

Tim sighed, “Look, it’s important. My brother-”

“I mean, no, it wasn’t a boy.”

Tim paused. “Huh?”

“It was a girl, a teen girl. Black hair, big blue eyes, French accent. She was sitting over there,” he waved at an empty table. “But I think she walked away before that happened.” Referring to the giant train wreck occurring a few aisles over.

“Oh,” said Tim. “Thanks.”

“Do you want the order?”

Tim held back an annoyed sigh.

“Sure.”

So that’s how he, Jason, and Dick, sat at the abandoned picnic table, staring at the abandoned meal bought with Damian’s credit card. Jason grabbed a couple of fries and shoved them in his mouth.

“That’s evidence, nitwit,” hissed Tim.

Jason ignored him, stabbing a meatball with the plastic fork. “What? It’s going to go to waste. Girlie obviously ain’t coming back for it.”

“We should be more worried about how a random girl used Damian’s credit card!”

“She could have stolen it?” offered Dick.

“Demon spawn would have broken her arm before getting pickpocketed,” countered Jason, eating another fry. Silence. A weird glint appeared in Jason's eye. He turned to Tim. “What did you say the girl looked like again?”

“Black hair, blue eyes, French accent.”

“Shit,” muttered Jason.

“What?”

“I think I ran into her earlier, about an hour and a half ago. Asked her if she had run into demon spawn – she sounded confused and tourist-like. But maybe…”

“Maybe she’s working with him?” offered Tim.

“Could be.”

“Damian? Working with another person? A stranger?” Dick shook his head. “Doesn’t sound like him.”

Jason shoved another fry into his mouth. “The brat’s a competitive little shit, if he thought teaming up would help him get ahead, he’d do it in a heartbeat.” He pointed a fry at Tim. “Can you look at the security footage?”

“I’m already two steps ahead of you,” Tim said, flashing his phone with the hacked in security camera footage on-screen. Jason and Dick huddled in close as a small girl walk on screen and stood at the counter.

“Yep, that’s her. Can you ID her, Timmy?”

Tim rolled his eyes, “This is a smartphone, Jay, not a laptop.”

“I thought Mr. World’s Second Greatest Detective would be prepared for anything.”

“Well excuse me for not having facial recognition software, on my phone.”

“Guys chill.”

“Shut up, Dick,” Jason and Tim said in unison.

The footage played out and they watched the girl order two meals and pay with Damian’s credit card. They switched to another camera when she left and sat at the picnic table. A few minutes later Jason and Tim walked into frame.

“Look, there! She tenses. Look at her body language, she’s panicking. She knows who you two are.” Dick looked shocked that, yes, Damian had teamed up with a partner.

They watched the girl panic, although she managed to keep her body from reacting too much. She placed her phone to her ear and walked away from her spot.

“Who is she talking to?”

“Maybe Damian was watching out of sight?”

“Shoot, Tim, she’s out of frame. Do we have another angle?”

It took another minute or so, but Tim found the right security camera catching the mysterious girl leaving the food court. As she walked away the image on the screen flickered, and a moment later the shelving units fell.

“Oh crap,” swore Jason. “Do you think she has magic? Fuck, it would be just our luck if demon spawn teamed up with someone dangerous.”

Dick shook his head. “It could be a coincidence. We didn’t see her do anything. The chaos could have been a coordinated effort between her and Damian.”

Tim wasn’t so sure. “Come on Dick, you’ve been in the game long enough to know just because something looks one way, doesn’t mean it's true.”

They watched the girl hurry out of sight, this time it was much more difficult to follow her progress through the store. She would randomly duck in and out of showrooms, coming out differently than how she came in. If the three boys hadn’t been trained in stealth and detection for years, they would have had a challenging time tracking her.

Jason whistled low. “Who is this chick? I’m impressed. She has serious skill.”

Finally, she ducked into a showroom and didn’t come out. Tim couldn’t find a camera giving them an unobstructed view, but it didn't matter. They had a destination.

“This was ten minutes ago, they could already be long gone,” said Dick.

“Or they could still be hiding there,” countered Jason.

“We’ll find out when we get there.” They walked out of the cafeteria and past the closed aisles. The forklift that had been buried under the collapsed shelving unit was being unearthed by a flock of bewildered employees.

“Ten bucks says she has magic,” said Jason.

“Yeah, no.” Tim was good at math and the odds of everything happening just as she left was too big to be a coincidence. “I’m not stupid enough to take that bet.”

“Come on you guys, let’s focus here,” chided Dick.

Walking back through the showrooms Tim kept an eye out for any sign of his brother or his accomplice, but it was as if they had disappeared into thin air. Arriving at the last location they had spotted the girl, they waited for a touring couple to leave before descending on the tiny, boxed room like the detectives they were trained to be.

It didn’t take long to discover the lasered off vent.

“Shit,” groaned Jason. “They could be anywhere by now.”

“Tim can you-”

Tim had his phone in hand, “I’m already on it. I’ll have the vent layout in a minute.” He felt insulted they even needed to ask.

Jason peered into the vent, “Damn, I think we’re too big to follow.”

Dick sighed. “I miss my vent crawling days; they just don’t make them as big as they used to.”

“That’s what she said,” snickered Jason.

“Focus you two,” Tim snapped. “I’ve pulled up the air duct plans.” He flashed the screen to his two brothers who settled down. “This particular vent runs a couple of places. We have one entrance at the back of the store in the storeroom. Then another veering off near the daycare center, and the last which comes out near the unloading dock.”

“I’ll take the one next to the daycare center,” said Dick. “I’m the only one who isn't demented,” pointing to Jason, “or sleep-deprived,” pointing to Tim.

“Hey!” exclaimed Jason.

Tim sneered, repressing a Damian-like growl, “I wouldn’t be so sleep deprived if you hadn’t dragged us out of the house at eight in the morning. I arrived in from patrol at three.” He hadn’t had coffee in hours, and the weight of his body pressed on him like a panini maker.

Dick ignored them. “Jason can take the one at the loading docks, and Tim you’ll be able to bypass security and get into the back the easiest.”

“Sounds good to me,” grunted Jason.

“Alright,” agreed Tim. “The second any of us spots them, text the group chat, will box them in from there.”

They nodded and headed off their separate ways. Despite the tiredness in Tim's bones, there was a heady rush of the hunt thrumming in his veins. Damian, and whoever he had decided to pair up with, were going down.

Tag List: (Closed, sorry!! I’m so glad you all like it though.)

@multplelifes @bluesimani @justhugefangirl @nik-nak-3@redscarlet95 @purplesundaze @incredulous-reader @k-poplunardreams @our-preciousss @blackmagicforever @vgirl-10123 @lozzybowe @wannajointhecrabcult @dast218 @chaotic-mess-of-a-life @fidget-eep @kawaiigiantjudgefish @queenmj10@tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @crazylittlemunchkin @fandom-writer642 @nach0ava @ladybug-182 @sam-i-am-0222@spyofthenightcourt @how-to-fuction-properly@emotionalsupportginger @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmy-mind @mystery-5-5 @theatreandcomicfreak @weird-pale-blonde-person @whatthechickenfriedfuck @myazael@pawsitivelymiraculous @urbanpineapplefarmer @karategirl119@consumeconstantly @hauntedstudent99 @ertyzeta @thornalchemist23 @iloveitwhen @animegirlweeb@byronsacademics @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @moonlitjiminie@iglowinggemma28 @constancetruggle @catgirlkittypryde @waffelyunsure @maskedpainter @lilkymilky @unhappyraspberry @avengerthewarrior @quotesandanime @tbehartoo @clumsy-owl-4178 @g-arya @chocolateherringtacofan @jalaluvsu @crazyrandomrebel @fatimaabbasrizvi @thenillabean @goblinwhoships @bluefyoto94 @nerinalith @loopingtangent @demonicbusiness @hecate-hallow @themcclan @tropestropestropes @paintedhope7 @whitetiger1249 @glitchon @vulpixmina @kitkat81804 @kissa-chan @beautiful-disasters-sunshine

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justafewsmallsteps · 3 years

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A look into LadyNoir for my Reversal AU, The Other Way Around. You don’t really need to read the other parts to get this one :)

Title: The Other Way Around, Part 3 Pairing: Lovesquare (LadyNoir) Rating: G+ Word Count: 2.5K

The first time Marinette really interacted with a cat was at a friend’s house. She was six years old at her very first sleepover. Nervous and shy, she’d spent the majority of the evening worrying about what would happen once the lights were out. She’d never had to sleep through a night without her parents or family with her. No amount of cartoons or pillow fights could fully ease the fear of impending darkness.

The other three girls seemed totally adjusted and excited, but Marinette could hardly eat dinner even though it was pizza from their favorite spot. Then she nearly burst into tears at the table when they served the cookies her parents had sent with her, overwhelmed with missing them so badly. With her eyes stinging and her voice ready to cry out that they should call home to pick her up, Button the cat suddenly sprung onto her lap. She was a fluffy tan thing with two black dots going down the center of her back, hence her name. In that moment she looked just like a chocolate chip cookie, albeit one that blinked up at Marinette’s face with huge, adorable brown eyes. The cat smooshed her head against the girl’s stomach, sat down, and began to purr. In her surprise and fascination, young Marinette forgot what she was so upset over.

She never had pets growing up—the hair was too much to maintain when her family also lived in a bakery—so she hadn’t any courage to approach Button before, even when the other girls had spent time petting her. She knew cats had claws and their yawns revealed sharp, pointy teeth. The last thing she wanted was to get scratched or bitten when she was already terrified. Cats had been a scary mystery. Button was small and fluffy and warm. The moment she cuddled up to her, Marinette fell in love.

After that day, cats became her favorite animal, and while she still wasn’t allowed to have one (despite the begging and puppy eyes that her mother valiantly fought against with gentle reasoning), Marinette surrounded herself with them as a good luck charm. She had kitty keychains, plush toys, cat-covered folders to take to class, and cat-print bedsheets. The obsessive phase lasted for three years, but the fondness stayed even when her room took on a pink and floral theme to match her changing design aesthetic. Obviously when she found the giant body pillow shaped like a cat, she knew she had to have it anyway. After long days of dealing with Chloe’s yapping and her own special trademark combination of back luck and clumsiness, hugging that massive squishy cat became her ultimate comfort.

That was, until another cat fell into her lap. Well, crashed into her entire body was more what happened.

When she was gifted her miraculous, Marinette thought herself a poor fit for a superhero. She liked leadership positions and really didn’t have a big problem taking charge when needed, but saving lives was a ton of pressure. She’d thrown her yoyo randomly, not sure of a single move she made, and in doing so managed to tangle her partner and herself up despite the superpowers. Chat Noir seemed more natural, and surely he deserved a partner that had the confidence to match his skills instead of her. Marinette was stuck in her head with apprehension. She’d totally screwed up her very first mission by letting the akuma multiply instead of purifying it. She wasn’t excited to be a hero. She was terrified.

Maybe it was the cat bias that made her instantly trust Chat Noir, but it was the way he put his warm hands so squarely on her shoulders and assured her that she could do this, that made her fall in love. It was the second time a cat had saved her from giving in to her fears.

He gave her the courage to stand up to Hawkmoth, and the moment she vowed to take him down was a triumph of bravery. She wouldn’t have been able to do that without him.

Of course she fell for him.

He didn’t make it any easier for her as they got closer. He was just so endearingly sweet, throwing compliments at her all the time for encouragement.

If only she didn’t turn into an absolute pile of goo whenever he did. At least she was always able to pull herself together to get the job done, but it was his fault. What could anyone expect from her when her partner was talented, smart, super handsome, and somehow humble about all of it?

She’d witnessed how he avoided the spotlight in favor of checking up with akuma victims. She’d seen him time after time go out of his way to protect others, especially her, from harm’s way. And after he did all those things he’d throw her the credit as if she was the one saving the day.

They worked together well, reading each other’s moves and adapting to each other’s pace. But he never needed the attention, happy to just get the mission done. It was a side of him that she got to see when the crowds weren’t looking, proud at what they’d accomplished while holding his fist out to hers in solidarity to say, “We did it!” Together. Always together.

But then their miraculouses would beep, and they’d have to go their separate ways with her casting lingering glances towards whichever horizon he’d disappear off to.

At least during some of their mutual patrols they had time to talk. She looked forward to each one, no matter what other responsibilities she had waiting for her once it was over. Getting to know her partner was such a highlight to her identity as Ladybug. There was the triumph of victory, the thrill of the physics defying feats she could accomplish, the heartwarming gratitude of the citizens… and then there was this: sitting at the top of the Eiffel with their feeting dangling in the cool Parisian air, aimlessly talking above a safe city set aglow with evening lights; the warm sense of security yet tingling excitement of hanging out with her one and only crush.

“Favorite hot drink?” she wondered.

Asking non-identifying questions was their way of bonding without compromising themselves.

Chat Noir hummed thoughtfully over a cookie—raspberry macarons, a favorite she had learned fairly early on. “The hot chocolate you brought in the winter was great. Probably the best I’ve ever had, actually.”

She blushed and kicked her feet nervously. She swore that she would’ve tripped if they’d been walking. Somehow his compliments did that to her. “T-thanks.”

He grabbed another macaron and turned it over, studying the ruffled feet as he added, “Otherwise I’m really fond of tea. My mother liked English high tea; always insisted we have a tea break at some point in the day. When I was a kid I was only in it for the cookies and sandwiches, but at this point I like the drink too. It's nostalgic.”

He always got wistful when he spoke about his mother, but Marinette knew that train of thought would lead them to somewhere too personal. It wasn’t that she didn’t yearn to know more about him. Quite the opposite, but they both knew that it wasn’t safe yet. There had been too many close calls. She followed up with another question. “Any tea in particular?”

“Earl grey, usually. I’m a fan of London Fogs over coffee.”

She smiled down, looking at her home’s direction. They had a lovely macaron with that flavor as well, she thought. She could bring him a variety box next time. Maybe one day they could do tea together in some fashion. A picnic, perhaps? High tea during an evening patrol seemed a bit strange, but she could always brew him a decaf in a thermos so he wouldn’t be hopped up on caffeine. Or maybe that was too much if she was already bringing the same flavor in a cookie. Did hot chocolate go well with earl grey? What about the raspberry? Plenty of people ordered a variety of flavors all the time. Maybe she should throw in a few others for balance, like the rose ones. Wait, were rose flavored macarons too romantic? Would it seem like a date if she brought him flower-flavored food? Not that she didn’t want to date him because of course she did but—

“Deep in thought, Ladybug?”

Chat Noir’s twinkling green eyes greeted her, just a few centimeters from her face. He must have been trying to get her attention for a while.

Surprised, she suddenly scooted back and flailed. “Oh!” Thankfully she was securely seated on the beam enough to not begin a sad plummet to the ground. Desserts were well and good, but she’d prefer to avoid becoming a polka dotted pancake. “Yes, sorry! Did you say something?”

He laughed his magical laugh, accustomed to her tendency to get lost in her own head. “No need to apologize. I was just saying that it was my turn to ask a question before we turn in for the night.”

Ah, was it already time to go back? Sheepishly, the heroine smiled. “Did you already ask it?”

A flash of teeth showed off his mirthful grin. “I did.”

“Sorry.” He had already told her not to apologize, but it was embarrassing that she was fantasizing about dating him when he was literally sitting besides her. “What was it again?”

“I asked if you’ve been on a date lately, Little Lady.”

Oh.

Her mind short-circuited. Had she been babbling out loud? How desperate had she sounded? “What? Me! Doing to date you? I mean, going on a date with someyou? Someone!”

If her slip up meant anything, he didn’t acknowledge it. He never did. Did she want him to?

“Yep. Like a romantic one-on-one date. I, uh,” he bashfully scratched the back of his neck, “I’ve been thinking about it lately.”

A rush of blood warmed her cheeks. “Y-you were?” Thinking about dating someone? Her? Them? Romantically!

He avoided her eyes, choosing to look up instead as he laughed nervously. “For a while now. I don’t even think I could, but there’s a girl…”

I’m a girl, her brain supplied with excitement.

“You can’t ask her?”

He clicked his tongue. “There’s a few conflicts. First of all, I don’t know how she really feels about me, and… I don’t know how to say the other part without really giving anything away.”

Ladybug pursed her lips and gave him time, either out of courtesy or because she was freaking out and incapable of speech.

“Um, it’s like… an occupational issue, I guess. I don’t know if I’d be allowed, in a sense. Then there’s the issue that I know nearly nothing about dating,” he explained.

For all his vagueness, she fit his description enough. She’d never outright confessed to being in love with him, so he didn’t know her feelings. Also they weren’t really supposed to date with all their responsibilities, and wasn’t that just part of their job as heroes? So for all intents and purposes, Chat Noir really could have been talking about her. The possibility made her head spin.

Her hope was strung on a tightrope; a precarious position that could go either way. She could ask him directly if he meant someone in his civilian life or if by some miracle he was talking about her—or she could stay on the precipice between disappointment and bliss. But for all her clumsiness, Marinette preferred balance whenever she could manage it. So she stayed her course, eyes far from looking down at the possibilities and instead on the objective: answer him.

“I haven’t been on a real date recently, no.”

She looked for any hint about his feelings in his response, any indication that he was relieved or just pitied her. He simply nodded, leaving her clueless as she continued to walk the tightrope.

“Same,” he let out a whiny sigh. “I guess I can’t really ask for advice then. I’m terrible when it comes to romance.”

She traced one of her spots with a gloved finger, trying to keep a clear mind despite the slight relief that her crush wasn’t out on dates all the time. “I doubt it. You’re so amazing, you’d make any girl really happy and lucky to be with you.” Saying those words aloud had her face feeling as red as her suit.

“Luck is your department, LB,” he grinned. “I imagine admirers are chasing you left and right.”

“Not in any serious manner,” Adrien’s corny and outlandish attempts to get her attention came to mind. He was just a flirt by nature, hardly what someone would consider a real admirer. “I… I’d be happy to go on a date with somebody who really liked me though.”

He gave her a thoughtful look that made her pause.

She stood up suddenly. “I mean, not just anybody! Like… if I knew they actually liked me, then I might give it a chance? Depending on the person.”

Chat Noir smiled again, patiently letting her ramble as usual.

She took a deep breath to collect herself. “It doesn’t matter how experienced you are with dating, at least that’s what I think. If she’s a nice person then she’ll also understand and you’ll both get through it together. You just have to be yourself.”

“You’re right as always, Little Lady,” he sighed. Her stomach did a flip at the soft sound of his voice. “You know, you do give the best advice.”

Balance, she reminded herself. Tightrope.

But he spoke again, “I can always count on you to cheer me up if things go wrong, can’t I?”

The words were kind—like a soft breeze—which was just enough to throw off her careful, barely established balance; just enough information to tip her over to the fact that he must have been talking about some other girl if at the end of the day he could still find comfort in her, his partner.

And so she fell. Or, well, she’d fallen for him a long time ago. What did she expect? Something happier, she’d hoped. Something more similar to catching herself with her yo-yo, lifting back up to soar instead of her hopes tumbling down.

“Ladybug?”

She took a second to glance down at the ground where her heart felt like it had dropped. From their high position on the Eiffel, it was a long way down. For how much she loved him, she wasn’t sure just how her heart would break. Shatter like glass? Crumble to pieces? Or would it plummet and dent the floor because it certainly felt as heavy as lead when she turned to face Chat Noir, an achingly sweet melancholy painted on face as he smiled at her.

“Of course you can count on me. You and me against it all,” she assured, holding out her hand to help him up. It was time to go, after all.

He grinned as he stood, “Everything from akumas to heartbreak.”

She gave a weak laugh in reply. “Good night, Chat.”

“Good night, Little Lady.”

#miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #chat noir #ladybug #justafewsmallsteps #Jelly art #the other way around #Reversal au #Jelly fic

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mysticalenthusiastvoid · 2 years

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What Were You Wearing?

I got the idea of this story after seeing a post on Facebook of what women and girls had been wearing when they were raped. The pictures ranged from baby shoes to jeans and a T-shirt to more traditional clothes. TW: child rape, child molestation, miscarriage, eating disorders, rape, self-harm. What were you wearing? The officer asks me, his greedy eyes searching me. What did he want to see? My body? If he saw my body, would he then think I was innocent? Or would he think my exposure at his request make me guilty?

He wouldn’t be the first to look at me in this way.

What were you wearing?

Well. Sir. If you mean the first time this happened to me, I was seven. The neighbor boy would watch me play in the back yard. He was sixteen or seventeen, almost an adult and should have known better.

He would invite me over for chocolate chip cookies and milk. He would let me borrow his comic books and taught me how to play video games. It started small, a brush against my hand or pushing the hair out of my eyes. It progressed to hugs and kisses on the forehead. He would sit me on his lap while we played video games. He would whisper into my ear how much he loved me and how happy I made him as I could feel him hardening beneath me.

It was everything I wanted to hear. He filled the hole left by my dad, so I was desperate for the crumbs he threw me.

One afternoon, I went over to his house. He smiled at me and invited me to sit beside him on the couch. It was like every other afternoon.

Or it should have been.

He took my hand, stroked it, and guided it up his thigh. I didn’t know how pretty I was in my butterfly dress. He was sure other parts of me would be just as pretty.

He unzipped himself and put my hand on his dick. He was only halfway hard, so it felt like a giant worm in my hand. I knew boys and girls were different, but I didn’t know what to do with it.

One of his hands slid beneath my dress as the other hand pushed me down. I laid on the couch as he pushed up the skirt of my dress and he laid on top of me. As he penetrated me, he repeated every compliment he’d ever given me. I didn’t know if he was trying to reassure me or himself. All I could think was that love wasn’t supposed to hurt like this.

My mom kept asking me why I threw my favorite dress in the trash. I couldn’t tell her why.

What were you wearing?

Do you need to know about the next time? Because I can tell you if you want.

I was about nine or ten when Mom decided to get saved. I think she was just tired of trying to find men in bars and decided she’d have better luck finding a good man at church.

She would wait until I was asleep to go out. I would wake up to laughing and moaning, but the relationships only lasted for a night. The only good thing I could say about the men was that they weren’t interested in me.

He introduced himself to us during coffee and donuts after a service. I was more interested in picking out a donut that had the most sprinkles than in talking to him. Mom nudged me to keep me from being rude. Now I think I should have followed my instinct to be cruel if only to be kind to myself.

I was just a girl, so I had to be nice. I was nice enough to let him date Mom, to let him bring us gifts, to let him coach my softball team, to let him cook for us every weekend, to let him touch and hug me any chance he got. He was so friendly and charming and successful there was no way something was wrong with him, even if his touches made my stomach churn.

Or so I told myself.

His reach into our lives wove itself so completely that it would be like cutting off a limb to let him go. It was only a few months before he and Mom were married and a shorter time than that before she was pregnant. Everyone was happy for us. I should have been happy too. I was getting everything I’d ever wanted.

I should have known there was a price.

The first time with him happened one morning. I’d gotten up early to watch cartoons as I did every Saturday. He knew this about me because he decided to get up early too.

I didn’t think anything of it. I was a little annoyed because I wanted to watch what I wanted on TV for a change and this new adult was interfering with that. All he said was good morning and sat beside me on the couch. He sat closer than I would have liked. After a while, he put one arm behind me and stroked my hair.

I froze under his touch. He continued to stroke my hair and leaned in to whisper in my ear that he would never hurt me.

My stomach dropped. That was what the neighbor boy had said.

His lips pressed against my cheek and my neck as he pulled down the bottoms of my Hello Kitty pajamas. He knelt in front of me and I closed my eyes as he pulled down my underwear.

He leaned in and licked me. I didn’t know someone could do that. After the neighbor boy, I’d taken to exploring, if only to figure out what was going on down there. This felt better than what the neighbor had done, but it was somehow worse.

All I could do was sit there after he finished. There was almost no expression in his face, except for the satisfaction of a predator toying with his prey.

I continued to be too nice for years to come.

What were you wearing?

I guess I should tell you about the next person since you won’t stop asking.

I was in middle school. We thought we knew everything because we had phones and weren’t in elementary school anymore. We giggled and whispered and joked about drugs and sex.

We had all of the knowledge, but none of the experience or wisdom.

At one of my softball team’s sleepovers, one of the girls bragged about sleeping with a high school boy. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard one of them bragging about the adult things they’d done, but instead of just bragging about themselves, they wanted everyone to share.

The stories passed around, under, and through my mind. All I could imagine was their judgmental stares as they accepted me as the slut I was if I told them about the neighbor boy, my stepfather, our softball coach.

The incident with the coach had happened the week before. I kept waiting for a ride, any ride. Ever since my brothers had been born, my mom’s attention had shifted from me to them, while my stepfather swayed between lavishing me with gifts and attention and ignoring me. As much as I longed for the attention, I preferred it when he ignored me. One of the moms reluctantly offered to take me home, but the coach had stepped in and said he would take me. I should have said something, but I needed attention from someone other than my stepfather.

I should have known when he took the long way home and pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned factory. I froze as he parked the van and reached over to stroke my sweaty hair. His hand trailed down, across my face and neck, and lingered on the breasts I still didn’t know what to do with.

One hand continued to grope and fumble while the other hand went down my baggy shorts. He stroked down there and commented that he didn’t like it when girls had hair down there. I didn’t tell him I refused to shave to annoy my stepfather.

He pulled his hands away and unzipped his fly. He put one hand on the back of my head and another on my back and pushed my head down to his lap.

I knew what he wanted. I’d performed for my stepfather often enough. Even if I hadn’t, I knew what a blowjob was, though well-meaning parents and teachers didn’t want us to know.

As expected, I put my mouth to his cock. He didn’t let me go at my own pace, but instead held on to my neck and controlled the pace. I tried to breath through my nose and not to gag as he forced me further and further down. His gasps and oh yeahs drowned out my attempts not to choke or any attempts to speak.

He finally came. I wasn’t able to swallow all of it as I was finally able to breathe. It dribbled down my chin and onto my shirt. I pulled my hoodie out of my bag and wiped off my face.

He told me he thought I would be better at giving head as he took me home. I seemed like the type.

I didn’t look at him, didn’t respond. Was there something about me that screamed slut and whore? Did he know what the neighbor boy and my stepfather had done to me?

I didn’t dare ask him those questions.

When I got home, I rushed out of the van and straight to the bathroom, ignoring my mom’s questions about where I’d been. I locked the door behind me and made it to the toilet just in time. I stripped off my clothes and leaned against the cool tile of the tub for a while, shaking and curled in on myself. I didn’t know why this time was so much worse than the others. Looking back, it was because it was the first time someone had confirmed that I deserved what kept happening to me.

When it came time for my turn, I mumbled that I was a virgin and let them make fun of me for months. It was preferable to the truth.

What were you wearing?

Why do you keep asking? Haven’t you figured out yet that clothes have nothing to do with this?

The next time it was someone other than my stepfather, I was sixteen.

I had decided to embrace the slut label and fucked anyone who wanted to fuck me. I’d gained a reputation by then, but what did it matter? I was already what everyone else thought.

I was dating a popular senior, even though it didn’t matter. I was still a slut and we still fucked other people.

I still don’t know how I maintained the image of the perfect high school girl. My stepfather demanded perfection out of all of us, probably to hide all of the dark shit happening in our suburban Mcmansion. I kept my grades up, played sports, and went to church while waiting for my stepfather’s night visits. Mom had officially converted to both Christianity and to Stepford Wifeness and hid her bruises beneath designer clothes.

I missed the old her because at least I knew I could trust her with the truth.

One Saturday night, I went to a party where me and my boyfriend managed to snag a bedroom. We put a chair against the door and ignored the knocks and requests for the room. I’d only had a couple of beers, but my boyfriend had something harder. I could smell it on his breath.

We made out on the bed as he laid on top of me. His hands fumbled with my tank top and jeans. I told him to stop. I wasn’t in the mood.

He paused and the energy of the room shifted. I knew the change in mood as much as I knew the back of my hand. I’d recognized the mood from my stepfather. It wasn’t about what I wanted, but what he wanted.

I calculated his weight and strength and speed against mine. I had zero chance of escape or winning a fight and he wasn’t listening to my words. As popular as he was, no one else would listen to me. I shut my mouth and laid still as he unbuttoned my jeans and underwear. His fingers trailed past the scars I’d made on my hips, a spot where no one would see them.

He entered me and pumped in and out. I stared at the ceiling and counted the tiles to keep myself from looking at him. He didn’t take too long to finish and rolled off of me. I then realized that I had forgotten to ask about him using a condom.

I got home well after midnight. They didn’t care what time I got home as long as I went to church with them. I stumbled up to my room and collapsed onto my bed, not bothering to brush my teeth or change clothes.

It wasn’t too long before my stepfather came in. I didn’t know if he stayed up waiting for me or if he was just a light sleeper. I didn’t want to know. My mom slept like the dead unless it came to my brothers.

I still wonder if she pretended not to notice anything so as not to ruin her perfect life.

As usual, he sat on the bed. Only by the light of the streetlamp, he stroked my hair, my breasts, my thighs. I offered no resistance when he pulled down my pants and pushed my thighs apart. There was no point.

He lasted longer than my boyfriend, but he also finished with a grunt and didn’t bother to pull out. For a moment, I thought I should have asked him to use a condom, but he wouldn’t have bothered. I’d asked him once before and only once. He’d made it clear that it would ruin everything. Besides, how would my mother feel about our little secret? We didn’t need to leave any evidence.

The little secret became a big secret when I realized I didn’t remember when I’d had my last period. I’d broken up with my boyfriend soon after the party and avoided both him and the weekend parties. When asked why, I said it was because I needed to focus on school when I really just wanted to avoid him.

I told myself I couldn’t be pregnant. All of the times I’d had sex without protection, with or without consent had never resulted in pregnancy. Yes, I was nauseous and vomiting outside of my eating and drinking binges, but I was good at hiding all of that.

I locked myself in the bathroom and peed on the stick. I wished and prayed to every god I could think of for the test to be negative, but despite the prayers, the two lines still appeared.

I didn’t tell anyone about the pregnancy. I didn’t know what to do. I considered getting an abortion, but the state required my parents’ consent. Why did I need permission in a situation when I hadn’t given any?

A couple of weeks later, I started having cramps in the middle of a trig test. The equations blurred in front of me as I clutched my stomach. I stood up and tried to speak, but the world spun around me as I fell to the ground.

My mom met me in the emergency room. My youngest brother was attached to her hip, his outfit perfectly coordinated with my mom’s. I wish she hadn’t brought him when all I wanted was to tell her the truth. She wouldn’t allow that with a toddler in the room.

My mom was going off on the nurse. Why was I here for a simple miscarriage? They didn’t need to go to all of this trouble.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. I refused to cry in front of strangers, including the one my own mother had become.

The doctor came in and said I needed to be admitted. Something about my potassium levels being low and they needed to keep an eye on it. All I heard was an excuse to get a break.

I said with a cracking voice that I wanted to stay if there was something wrong. My mom gave me a look, but agreed to let me stay.

They gave me ibuprofen and took me up to a room. Mom left and said she would be back, even though I gave her a coin toss chance of her doing that. I curled up on my side and watched bad daytime tv while they stuck ivs in my arm and pestered me with questions about what I ate since I was so thin.

I didn’t tell them that on top of my binging, Mom tried to limit what I could eat. She claimed that men didn’t like it when women didn’t watch their weight. Funny how she didn’t care before she met my stepdad.

My mom and stepdad showed up after dinner. I was still picking at my food and ignoring the cramps that continued to plague my back.

Of course he came with her. Why was he here? No matter what I told her, she probably wouldn’t believe me.

They didn’t ask me how I was feeling. Mom frowned at the tray of mostly uneaten food and reached for it. I pulled it away from her and stuffed part of a roll into my mouth.

As I chewed, the bread grew even more dry and stale as they asked me how I could have let this happen. I should have thought about the consequences and this would affect the family. Did I even know who the father was?

I stared at my stepfather as he asked me the question. I refused to look away. Maybe Mom would notice and get the hint.

She didn’t.

They left after I refused to answer any more questions. I laid in bed, listening to the night shift tending to the other kids. Some kid screamed down the hall for his mommy. I put the pillow over my head to try to drown out the screams because I wanted to do the same thing.

I wanted to call my mom. I wanted her to hold me and promise that we would never go back. That she would leave him. That I would be safe.

The tears sliding down my face turned into sobs. I must have drawn the attention of a nurse because she pulled the pillow away from my head and pulled me into a hug.

I didn’t know just I was crying about. Maybe it was because of the guilt over losing the baby I hadn’t wanted. Maybe it was because I was tired of being seen as something to be used. Maybe it was because even though I was staying in the pediatric ward, anything left of my childhood was now gone.

Or maybe it was I was tired of pretending everything was under control.

For a moment, I pretended the nurse was my mother and told her everything my stepfather had done to me.

I don’t know what I had expected to happen after that, but I hadn’t expected you to come in here acting like I was guilty of everything that had happened.

I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised.

After all, you’re friends with my stepfather.

#short story tw rape child rape child molestation miscarriage eating disorders self harm

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the-enamorando-deity · 4 years

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Wanda Maximoff x AvengerReader

Word 9, Location 11, situation 11, sentences 1,5,6 *

oof a lot of fun stuff being written tonight! sorry all these are taking so long, my mum is using my laptop 98% of the time and I have nothing else to write on. anyways ENJOY

Prompts: Movie, Carnival, a Little Too Drunk, “Babygirl, you know how I feel about that”, “Babe, no,” and “Babe, yes”

Wanda Maximoff x Reader, (18+ and I MEAN IT y’all-)

Just Like the Movies

‘It’s just like a movie!’ Wanda shouted, quickly turning between stalls at the carnival, eyes wide at the flashing lights and strange carnival folk surrounding you.

The smile she wore was one you would cherish forever, the delight in her voice the most pure thing you’d ever heard. You would spend every cent you had at one stall if it got her something she only just glanced at. So far, you’d gone through half the stalls, and she’d refused to let you stop.

Sokovia often had similar events, but they were usually a guise or ruse to sneak money from the customers, a hiding place for criminals and the most wanted of people. She and her brother had never attended, sometimes seeing them from far away and smelling the popcorn and cotton candy, wishing it wasn’t anything more than a childish dream. But now she could have it all, and anything else she wanted.

Wanda dragged you from stall to stall in excitement, wanting to see it all, but keep you from spending all your cash on trivial things. You assured her it was just one night, just for fun, and that the memories meant more than the things you attached them to. She finally agreed, letting you drag her to the talent booths.

Ring tosses, knock-em-overs, dunking games- everything lined the “Try Your Luck” alley at the centre of the carnival. Wanda hadn’t agreed to not use magic, not that you were complaining. It would even out how rigged the games were, many of the toys they offered as prizes covered in cobwebs after how long they’d been there.

‘Y/N, I want to try that one,’ Wanda said, gesturing to a row of clown heads that spun. Young children shovelled balls into their mouths, shrieking in delight as pings and alarms sounded.

‘Babygirl, you know how I feel about… that,’ you screwed up your face, gesturing to the clowns. She ignored you and dragged you over anyways, nothing was going to get in her way.

Arms full of your winnings, you and Wanda waddled over to the booth and you fumbled a note from your pocket, winking at the guy you handed it to. He handed Wanda a small bag with ping pong balls, and the game begun as each competitor readied their hands.

‘Three, two, one, go!’ he shouted.

Wanda hadn’t wanted to play any of the other ridiculous games you had insisted on, but this, she thought, was mindless fun. You cheered her on, the points racking higher, until all her balls were gone.

‘Highest point total goes to the little lady on the left! Congratulations, missy, you get our top prize.’

Wanda smiled at the little girl who won, crinkling up her nose with a cheeky grin as the man handed her a small toy. ‘Thank you!’

She hugged it tight, showing it off to you. ‘I didn’t even use my powers and I got one!’

‘You did amazing, Wanda,’ you answered, kissing her quick on the cheek, ‘he’s the cutest one out of all of them!’

Sheepishly, Wanda’s cheeks grew hot and she held it out to you. ‘I won him for you.’

Tucking the small red bear into your shirt, you grinned and kissed her again.

‘Hey, I have an idea.’

Having now explored the whole carnival, only one thing remained. ‘Babe, no,’ Wanda started, interrupted by your charming eyes and the hundreds of plushy ones from the giant netted bag you stole to carry them in.

‘Babe, yes,’ you replied, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the dodgem cars. ‘I’ll drive.’

Your at first dangerous idea quickly turned to one of fun, the screeching laughter from you and Wanda as you slammed into other cars being the highlight of your night, adding it to the list of all the other wonderful things about her. She let go a little, the usually reserved Wanda letting you distract her from all the harsh things she’d suffered, at least for one night.

The ride began to slow, and you leaned over to kiss her properly. She grabbed your cheeks and pulled you close, the squeak from the bear in your shirt making you both jump and start laughing.

‘Just like a movie,’ you grinned, taking her hand and guiding her out of the car.

No idea how you made it home, all of your prizes in tow, the taxi dropped the pair of you outside your apartment. Wanda’s hand wrapped around yours, you tugged her towards the front door.

‘You wanna come in?’

She nodded, lowering her arms around your neck. ‘I’d like that.’

You waved the taxi off, fumbling your key into the lock and pulling Wanda inside. Toys discarded, you crashed into the wall, a little drunk from the competitions you’d stumbled into, the cries of Wanda egging you on only hyping you up more. Maybe you were a little too drunk, but Wanda wasn’t far behind you.

Her lips were sweet, flecked with cotton candy, and the salt from the popcorn you’d shared only made her taste sweeter. You fell back onto the sofa, pulling Wanda on top of you and having her straddle your waist. She sat up, lips parting from yours only for a moment, eyes locked on yours as she removed her clothes, then moved to take off yours.

You sat up a little and pulled her lips down to kiss you, long and slow. Hands running down her sides, both now only in your underwear. ‘Are you okay with this?’ you mumbled, fingers twirling through her hair.

‘More than,’ she replied, leaning down to deepen the kiss.

Your hands moved down her back, one over her ass, circling it with your fingers. Her hips bucked into yours, one of her hands squeezing your boobs in response. Pulling her body closer, you sat up and brought her with you, kissing her chest. You grabbed her hips and moved her body so she sat over your thigh, her knee pressed against your core.

Wanda started to move, grinding against your leg, as your hips bucked against her thigh. She moaned into the air with her head tossed back, moving faster to get more friction, chasing a high.

She felt so good against you, riding your thigh like there was no tomorrow. Growing louder with each thrust of her hips, you could feel her getting more wet by the second. Your hand on her back moved to trace a line down her chest, fingers hooking on the edge of her underwear and gently pulling at the elastic.

Her breath caught in her throat, now hurried to have you touch her even more. Your other hand gripped her ass tight as your fingers dipped inside her panties, Wanda only slowing her pace enough so your hand could catch up. Your fingers were soaked by the time they reached her clit, circling it a few times and feeling Wanda become more desperate.

Your hand moved deeper beneath her, fingers curling up and gently slipping inside her. Her clit slid over your palm over and over, riding you harder as she grew close. ‘Holy shit-’

Silence fell over your apartment, her moans and delighted cries muted by your mouth over hers, taking the last of her breath away. With a final few thrusts, she sighed heavily and slowed, almost collapsing on your chest. The friction you’d gotten back from her wasn’t enough, but she could finish you later. This was about Wanda, and she’d had the night of her life.

‘Just like the movies, right?’

‘I’d like to know what kind of movies you watch, Y/N,’ she replied, breathing heavily as you let her take a breather on your chest.

taglist: @marvelfansince08love @mymarvelwomen @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @veteranwerewolf95 @monihaswritersblock @natasharomanoffswife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #marvel #asks #anon #answered #fanfiction #request #request complete #uhhhh #whoops?

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firefly-in-darkness · 4 years

Text

Smooth

Pairing → Sam Wilson x Reader

Characters → Marvel

Summary → Y/N has to fight off the smile and laughter at Sam Wilson’s chat up lines throught their relationship but here are a few of their milestones.

Word Count → 3.7k

Prompt → Trope: 5 Things Plus 1 for @bonkywobble challenge - congrats on your follower milestone lovely!

SSB2021 Square Fill → Posted at the end of the story as it’s a spoiler // @star-spangled-bingo

Warnings → Fluff, sweet, tooth-rotting fluff. Cheesy chat up lines.

Betas → @daydream3r-xo // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → This is my first proper Sam Wilson fic - I have done one in the past but there was more platonic - so I hope you enjoy this story!

Firefly’s Masterlist

Sam Wilson couldn’t believe his luck, he’d signed up to the right gym, that’s for sure. There was the most beautiful woman standing at the opposite wall with a group of women. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as she instructed the class. It was like he was hypnotised, but at least he was happy about it. Her figure was strong, and she commanded the attention of the women with ease and a stunning smile that made her eyes sparkle.

He dropped his bag onto the floor and folded his arms, as he watched on in wonder while she instructed them to loosen up with various stretches. The way her body bent and twisted into the poses was enough to make him stir under the belt.

Lost in his daydream, Sam didn’t realise the instructor had turned away from the class and walked in his direction. Lost in the sight of her plump lips and then he realised that she was looking at him. No, not just looking, her lips were moving. She was talking to him. He snapped out of his haze and apologised for not hearing.

“Are you here to assist with the self-defence class?” Her eyebrow raised at him, slight confusion on her face.

Now that she was in his personal space, Sam felt nervous. He was usually so quick and an absolute charmer with women. Well, with most people, young and old. He’d get himself out of any situation and this is when he needed his wits about him.

“Uhm- No, I think there’s something wrong with my eyes.” Sam wrinkled his nose and cringed at his train of thought.

The woman looked at him with widening fear and reached out to take his arm, “Right, okay, what do you need? What’s wrong?”

The feel of her soft skin warmed his arm in an instant, a tingle bloomed across his cheeks. Then he refocused back on his plan, even if it could potentially end badly, he wanted to charm her.

“I just can’t take them off you.” Sam grinned, but it dropped when he saw the scowl, she was giving him.

Suddenly the most beautiful sound came from the woman, the laugh that fell from her lips made him feel like a cloud, completely soft and weightless. And the sight of her head thrown back brought the grin back to his face. It worked.

“But I am more than happy to help out with the class.” Sam’s smile didn’t drop but his heart raced at the thought of his offer being rejected.

“Oh, you are definitely helping out now.” grabbed his bicep and brought him to the front of the group. “Now ladies, this is-”

“Sam” He waved and gave them a lopsided smile. “Sam Wilson.”

“Sam is going to be our test dummy for today’s session.” Y/N grabbed a [added vest and handed it to him, “now put this on and be a good boy so these Ladies can practice kneeing someone in the stomach.”

“What? I thought you were going to wrestle me or something.”

“Nuh-uh, good luck sugar.” She grinned.

“Wait, do I get to know your name?” Sam asked as he pulled on the vest.

“You can call me Boss Lady.” She replied and returned to the group of women.

Sam didn’t miss the teasing smirk she sent his way as she walked away and discussed the techniques with the women that were lining up to practise their recently learned moves on him. He was glad he had this padded vest and years of training in the army to deal with the blows about to come his way.

At least he got to meet her, see that stunning smile, and hear that beautiful laugh. It was all worth it.

Y/N stroked her fingers through her hair, a failed attempt to tame the flyaway while giving herself a once over in the pocket mirror. Nerves swirled in her stomach as the Uber approached the Italian restaurant. She wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or not, she hadn’t been on a date in over a year and she had only known this guy for a few weeks through an online dating app.

The maître-d took her coat then led her to an empty table, leaving her to browse the drinks menu. Y/N wasn’t fazed by being here before him, she was a little earlier than planned and decided to order a glass of wine.

Yet, the minutes ticked by. Y/N sipped on her drink, eyes focused on the entrance for any sign of her date but after twenty minutes and an ignored message, she decided to ask the waitress to clear the reservation and bring over the cheque for her wine. She wasn’t going to sit there any longer, waiting for someone that wasn’t going to arrive.

Feeling scorned by being stood up, she left the restaurant in a flurry but tried to remain composed and swiftly began to walk down the block to the busier part of town to hail a taxi. But before she reached the end of the sidewalk an illuminated sign across the street caught her attention. Compound. It was the place that Sam had mentioned to her earlier in the week when they were at the gym.

They’d formed a good friendship over the last few months and with a few of the other regulars at the gym. Sam had invited Y/N alongside Bucky and Nat who were personal trainers at the gym. Y/N knew them well but had declined the invite to the bar that was now opposite her. She made up an excuse, unsure as to why she lied about needing to go to her parents.

But now that she was here, she might as well put the time she had in getting ready to good use. She could just think of some other excuse and pretend like the evening hadn’t started as badly as it did. With a renewed surge of confidence, she skipped across the street and entered the bar.

It was busy but considering it was a Friday night, most people ventured further into town for a night out. She spotted Bucky and one of his best clients, Steve, at one of the pool tables in the corner. Bucky had just broken the set and Steve moved to take his shot. That’s when Y/N saw that Natasha was here too, almost hidden from view by the muscular giant that was Steve. Y/N was sure that Natasha never looked less than radiant, she never looked out of place anywhere. She was perfect.

Y/N removed her coat and hooked it up, uncertainty starting to worry her about turning up unannounced. She shook it off and walked over to the bar to grab a round of beers to take over to the table, she couldn’t go over there empty-handed.

At the sound of her name being called, she turned around to see Bucky, his signature smile on his lips and arms opened wide to welcome her in a light hug.

“Hi Buck, parents didn’t need me so thought I’d gate crash.” Y/N grinned and held up the bottles, “And I have beers.”

“Always welcome. But we need one more.” Bucky gestured over to the table, the new addition at the table was Sam.

An unexpected rush of butterflies assaulted Y/N’s stomach as she ordered the remaining beer and walked over to the bar with Bucky in tow. She greeted everyone, pausing as she approached Sam. This was the first time she’d seen him in something other than gym clothes and she appreciated the form-fitting shirt that hugged at his muscular arms.

“Somebody call the cops because it’s got to be illegal to look that good!” Sam bellowed out and held out his arms, gesturing up and down her body.

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that erupted and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was glad that her date had stood her up because now she was able to enjoy the night with friends that wanted her to be around. Plus, who doesn’t love a confidence boost from a handsome guy?

Even though Sam used the most ridiculous lines to get Y/N’s attention, something was charming about him. It was a confidence boost for sure and when later that night, he asked her on a date, she secretly hoped that it was going to lead to something more. Even if the rational voice in her head told her not to get attached too soon.

Sam couldn’t believe his luck; they were on their fifth date and Y/N had invited him up to her apartment for coffee. Of course, he hoped it was code for sex. But honestly, he didn’t mind if that didn’t happen, he just wanted to spend more time with Y/N. She was great company, had a wicked sense of humour and was genuinely fun to be around.

Nerves bubbled in Sam’s stomach while he waited for Y/N to return with their drinks. He had sat on the cosy couch that was adorned with plush cushions and the softest blanket he’d ever felt but he needed to distract himself from the butterflies somersaulting in his stomach. A display of photographs and memorabilia adorning one of the walls caught his eye and he wandered over.

Several photographs of Y/N with different groups of people; at festivals, out for dinner, on vacation. Some of the frames had ticket stubs tucked into them, the other frames had ornaments hanging from them or polaroids stuck to the corners. It was a collage of happiness and colour. He couldn’t help the smile that formed as he thought of all the possibilities of their dating heading towards making memories like this, together.

Sam returned to the couch and Y/N placed the cups onto the coffee table. He noticed the change in her body language; she smoothed down her skirt several times, a coy smile played on her lips as she sipped on the drink. He grinned, she was on the same page as him and maybe just as nervous.

“We don’t have to do anything.” Sam’s voice gained her attention, “I’m happy to wait and see where things go if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled, she looked as if the weight of the world had been taken off her shoulders and then she plunged towards him. Their lips met in a heated kiss; Sam was shocked at the sudden change of pace, but he couldn’t resist the need to feel her body pressed up against him.

They both pulled back for air, and Sam brushed his knuckles against her cheek, “I guess that means you do want to do something.”

Y/N bit her lip and shuffled backwards, straightened up and gestured for him to follow her to the bedroom. Sam kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie in the doorway, completely enamoured by Y/N while she removed her heels.

“Sam, can you help?” Y/N looked behind and pulled her hair over her shoulder, exposing the zip that she couldn’t quite reach the top of the dress.

Slowly, the zip glided down, showing a hint of the black lace underwear. Sam looked up to the ceiling, thanking God for the beauty before him. She turned around and began unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers delicate and features focused on the clothing. But there seemed to be an air of nervousness coming from her.

Sam tipped up her chin before she could finish undressing him. He kissed her lightly, in hope to ease her, comfort her.

Their lips parted and he rested his forehead against Y/N’s, “as I said, we don’t have to do anything.”

Y/N nodded and guided him to the foot of the bed to take a seat, “I’m okay. It’s just been a while.”

Sam was in a similar situation and didn’t want his nerves to add to the concern that was already laced on her features as she stood in front of him, “We’ll do this at your pace.”

She nodded, a smile now taking over her features as she removed her arms from the sleeves of her dress and letting it pool at her feet. Sam’s mouth dropped agape as he took in her all beauty; the soft skin that curved and dipped in exquisite ways.

His hands rubbed at his thighs and looked back up to the woman who approached cautiously, a smirk on his face, “I hope you know CPR because you are taking my breath away.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip and straddled his lap, “I think I’m pretty good at mouth to mouth.”

Sam held her waist with one hand, the other exploring and massaging the exposed skin of her thighs, her hips and stomach before he reached for her neck. Their lips crashed together, and they shuffled up the mattress, exposing more of their bodies and letting passion guide them through the remainder of the night.

The episode of The Big Bang Theory played in the background, Y/N was too occupied with painting her toenails, her feet rested on the coffee table as she tugged up her sweatpants for the fifth time in the hopes to not smudge the polish.

Sam had been in the bedroom for ten minutes, putting on an outfit that he needed Y/N’s approval on. At least they’d ordered food before he went in there because otherwise, Y/N would have consumed everything in his fridge which didn’t consist of much other than a block of cheese and a bottle of vodka.

The buzz at the intercom made her jump but luckily there were no smudges to her newly pampered feet.

“I’ll get it,” Y/N shouted from the lounge of Sam’s apartment and headed to the front door to wait for the delivery person. She handed the guy some bills and a little tip before hitting the door shut with her hip.

Y/N held onto the pizza boxes and bottle of soda tightly and cautiously made her way down the hall. She waited for Sam to appear, but he still hadn’t come out of his bedroom. It was getting a bit ridiculous now.

“Sam, hurry up or your food is going to go cold.” She called and poured out the drinks.

“What do you think?” Sam asked as he entered the room, arms wide as he twirled slowly.

Sam was in a crisp white shirt, smart black trousers, and a suit jacket. The bowtie was a little crooked, but it made his sheepish grin all that more endearing to her.

“A little formal for movie night don’t you think?” She smirked and dipped an onion ring into the garlic sauce.

“Thought it might impress you.” Sam grinned at her, “Thought it would bring a bit more class to the charity gala. We need to raise money for the community centre.”

“Well, I think you look rather handsome and I’m sure someone will bid a lot of money on you.” Y/N’s eyes squinted at him, for being reminded that Sam was being auctioned off alongside Steve and Bucky for dates to the rich women of New York.

Y/N knew they weren’t exclusive, but she knew they weren’t dating other people, they just hadn’t talked about that. It had only been a couple of months since their first date and as much as Y/N was enjoying Sam’s company, she didn’t want to rush into anything or mistake how she felt and that it was unreciprocated.

“Do you know what my shirt is made of?” Sam walked towards her and knelt to be at her eye level, “Boyfriend material. Yeah, I like the sound of that.”

Sam pressed a kiss to her cheek then stood back up to return to the bedroom while Y/N remained glued to the spot, eyes wide at the way he’d casually pulled off another cheesy line and quietened her insecurities in one swift movement. She was falling, hard.

Sam pulled the van into the driveway, feeling giddy at the sight of Y/N standing on the porch with their realtor. The sun beamed down onto Y/N’s skin, an ethereal glow as she spoke animatedly with Phil, probably talking his ear off about the cost of hiring a van themselves in comparison to hiring a removals company.

It had taken them a while to get here but Sam was over the moon to be where they were now. Everything came into alignment, apart from the odd bump in the road. But after many sleepless nights, a last-minute scramble for cash and only a few days to pack up their separate lives; they were finally moving into their dream home.

They had talked about this for months, both unsure to take the leap when viewing different houses until this one came along. The minute they walked into the place, it felt like home. It was vacant and they were able to imagine what it would look like with their belongings; where the sofa would look best in the lounge or which room should be the guest bedroom or office space.

Of course, the kitchen was Sam’s favourite place, it was open planned and the best for socialising and he couldn’t wait for everyone to come round for a barbecue as the French doors opening onto a patio that stretched into a neat lawn. Perfect for hosting their friends this summer.

“Did you get lost pumpkin?” Y/N smiled at him.

“Never, I’m like a homing pigeon when it comes to you.” Sam chuckled, “are we ready now Phil?”

The middle-aged man that had a childlike spark, gave him a curt nod, and headed into the property, “Right this way.”

The papers were signed, and all that was left was to be handed over the keys so that they could begin unloading their belongings. The atmosphere was charged with excitement as Phil placed a set of keys into Y/N’s hands.

“Be careful with those.” Sam gave her a lopsided smirk and a raised brow.

“I’m not going to lose them!” She retaliated.

“Yeah, but this one,” Sam pointed to one of the keys, “is a special one.”

Y/N turned to him, brows knitted together in confusion, “what are you going on about Sam?”

Sam placed his hands on her shoulders, focusing her attention on him. His face lined with seriousness, “It’s the key to my heart.”

Y/N groaned and rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him.

“Nailed it!” Phil said as he high fived Sam, “Now, I will leave you lovely pair to get acquainted with your new home.”

Y/N placed the keys onto the kitchen island and looked out onto the garden. Sam’s arms wrapped around her waist; his chest pressed tightly to her back.

“We did it, baby girl,” Sam whispered into her ear and lightly pecked her cheek.

“That we did.” She turned her head to capture his lips with her own.

Y/N grabbed the plates, shoving them into the dishwasher while Sam waved Steve and Peggy off from the front door. It was a good date night, regardless of the lack of wine. Peggy was almost ready to burst with the twins that had wriggled constantly in her belly. They’d finally decided on a name but refused to tell Y/N or Sam.

“Anything else I need to do, baby girl?” Sam asked as he returned to the kitchen.

“All done in here.” Y/N yawned, “Think it’s time for bed.”

Sam’s face dropped for a split second, but Y/N spotted it. She wandered round to his side of the room and wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers massaging the back of his head.

“What’s up?” She asked, pressing a light kiss to his lips.

A grin formed on his lips, the warmth spreading to her in an instant, shared happiness was a beautiful feeling.

“I was just thinking that I don’t think there’s anything I’d like to change about you.” He swayed your body to the music that filtered through from the music dock in the living room.

“So why the grumpy face?” Y/N pouted and squeezed his cheeks together; lips mushed into a dramatic grimace.

“Because I realised there was something I’d like to change,” Sam mumbled through your hold on his face.

Y/N pulled away instantly, her hands dropping to her side as anger began to bubble under her skin, “excuse me?”

Sam tugged her by the waist, keeping her close, “Let me finish.”

She relaxed the tension in her body and placed her hands back on his chest, the annoyance still simmering but less noticeable. Sam’s fingers traced soft lines up and down her back until she gave in and placed her head on his shoulder.

“Now, where was I? Ah yes, the one thing I’d change about you.” He spluttered as Y/N hit him on the arm, lightly but still effective. “The only thing would be your last name.”

Y/N cringed at the chat-up line and pulled away, breaking their hold in favour of turning out the lights in the kitchen before re-joining him but he was nowhere to be seen when she turned around. The sudden silence had her on edge as she headed to the lounge to find Sam kneeling in front of her, his hand raised with a velvet box.

She gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth, he was being serious. He wasn’t using some cheesy chat-up line, well he was, but he was doing this! Y/N squealed internally, the sudden realisation that Sam was talking had her snapping up to his eyes.

The gorgeous brown brimming with tears as he told her how much he loved her, “I want you in my life always baby girl, will you be my wife?”

“Yes!” she responded, throwing her arms around his neck as he spun her around the room.

Y/N pressed kiss after kiss to every place she could, their salty tears mixing in with their passion. Sam pulled back with a chuckle, he took her left hand and placed the sparkling ring onto her finger.

He might have used his cheesy pick-up lines to get to this point, but Y/N loved every single one. Especially this one.

The End.

SSB2021 Square Fill → Proposal // @star-spangled-bingo

Everything Tag List: @kitkatd7 / @fandomfic-galore / @writerwrites / @thefridgeismybestie / @wedonttalkaboutitenough / @courtneychicken

Marvel Tag List: @natasha-danvers / @little-baby-vixen / @stuckonjbbarnes / @starlightcrystalline / @nekoannie-chan / @hailhydra920 / @vollzeitliebe / @fitzsimmons-is-forever / @ladyacrasia / @emmabarnes

#Sam Wilson x Reader #bonkyshalfwayto1k #SSB2021 #Sam Wilson #Sam Wilson Fic #Star Spangled Bingo #Sam Wilson Fluff #Sam Wilson Fanfiction

159 notes · View notes

catzula · 4 years

Text

A kiss to warm your heart

A/N: Ahh I missed writing for Bakugou and its been a while since I had this much fun writing anything, I hope you guys enjoy it too >:(

And uh lets not make this one flop pls 😦

Pairing: bakugou x reader

Warning: cursing

Genre: fluff! Mutual pining, some jealousy but not very prominent

Synopsis: going to a skiing trip for the weekend with you friends sounds like a good idea (not as much when you realize your crush, Bakugou Katsuki is coming, too!), but it's a bit hard to actually get to skiing when you can't ride the chair lift.

"Dips on the bed next to the window!" Mina rushed into the room, throwing herself on the said bed. You sent her a fake pout as you settled on the other bed, not really caring about it's location, but it was fun to guilt-trip Mina. She gave you a crooked grin as she laid her luggage on the ground, already unpacking.

"Change into your skiing clothes, Kiri told me we're going to go skiing in about half an hour."

"What? No! We just came, I'm tired." You protested, throwing yourself on the fluffy hotel bed, groaning and hoping you looked as yitrd as you felt so she would leave you alone.

"Y/N, stand up and wear your ski clothes? Please?" Mina held you by the arm, lulling you off the bed and thinking you were a little too strong for your own good.

"Oh, come on," she groaned when you sent her a 'leave me alone, I'm tired' look, "We're only here for two days, and we should use every chance we have! Also, it's tea time, and they are serving those little free cookies, so I'm sure you'll feel better if you just ate one."

"Yeah, all I need is cookies." You scoffed, making her grin. "Nope, all you need is Bakugou." Mina turned to the mirror and fluffed her hair, trying to look as indifferent as she could, failing at hiding her sly grin as she gave you a few seconds of silence to reconsider.

You sighed as you rushed down the stairs, evening your pace with Mina's. You always hated walking in ski clothing since it made you feel like a burrito: overheated, wrapped with layers and layers of clothing which rustled each time you moved, and very uncomfortable.

"Free cookies, you say? Are there brownies, too?"

~~~

You knew she wanted to talk about something by the way she kept turning at you and fidgeting her hands. "What is it?" You asked when Mina glanced at you for the fortieth time the last few minutes. "If it's about you-know-who, I don't wanna hear it, though."

"Mina-" you started to talk, but she stopped you before you could argue, although you were itching to go downstairs already because you felt like you were going to have a stroke if you stood indoors with these clothes. "Don't Mina me, and you know this is your best chance to confess to him! What are you even waiting for, for him to confess first?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Oh, come on!" She groaned, emphasizing the last word. "If you want to tell him, this is your chance!"

"Well, you're out of luck, then." Mina booped your nose. "We are talking about the worlds biggest tsundere after all. I doubt he'd say anything before you do."

She was right, and you knew it. "I know," you admitted, rolling your eyes at the way she grinned proudly. "But I'm not- I don't want to damage our friendship, you know? And I'm not ready for a rejection." You laughed wryly to ease the tension you were feeling.

"Rejection? Are you serious? You guys are so obvious that even Denki asked me if you were secretly dating. You are almost already dating, just neither of you accepted the feelings towards the other."

Well, it was true. You and Bakugou were a little closer than friends, maybe, but him every so often flirting with you or you meeting his gaze whenever you looked at him (which happened quite often, you had to admit) didn't necessarily mean he liked you back, did it?

"I'll- I'll do my best." You smiled at her, trying to change the subject since you were in the entrance of the sitting area. "Let's go eat something already. Do you see them?"

"Oh, I see Kiri." She spotted, grinning when she saw Bakugou frowning right next to him. "Look, Bakugou's there, too. Hey guys!" She waved at them, running towards the duo and pulling you along. You could see how his gaze snapped up at hearing Mina's voice, the red eyes finding yours immediately and a smirk replacing the frown on his lips.

He had no right to look this good even with snowboard clothes. His spiky hair messy because of the big ski glasses that rested on top of his head, the black, skin-tight thermals enhanced his well-built body, and his orange-striped ski pants looked like they fit him perfectly. You had to admit you were maybe a bit excited to see him snowboarding down the mountain.

"What, see something you like?" He grinned, whispering so only you could hear, frowning almost immediately after that when he turned to Mina. "Took you guys long enough."

"Yeah, don't tell me that, it was her who needed 30 minutes of convincing, although it was pretty easy to convince her after I said- well, never mind what." She grinned villainously when you sent her an 'I'll push you of a cliff if you say one more word' look.

Bakugou quirked a brow at the pink-skinned girl's sudden change of behavior but decided not to think about it much. "Oh my God, I'll pass out let's go ski already!" Kirishima chimed in, pulling on the thermals he was wearing that clung to him like a second skin, and you could feel the eyes that were looking his way as you walked through the lobby. "These clothes are waaay too warm to be wearing inside." He added, fanning himself with his hands.

He was right, and you felt suffocated, too, the clothes too warm, too tight, too much and too heavy, there were too many things to carry with you, all your hands occupied with another ski gear, and you were itching to throw them and run outside to the snow screaming.

You were glad when your friends complied, all making their way to the ski room. You spotted Mina running towards you, and her ski pants pouches were suspiciously full with something that resembled cookies. You quirked a brow at her, pointing at her bulky pockets, only to earn a grin from her. "You know, its a little snack for us to eat when we get hungry or bored on the longass chair lift ride."

"Hey Mina, send me a cookie!" Denki waved to you, making Mina grin knowingly. "See? There's demand."

You chuckled as you entered the ski room. Bakugou was already sitting on the bench, a jet black snowboard right beside him, the crimson of his eyes contrasting with the black of his board and clothes beautifully. His eyes raised to you when you entered the room, a smirk finding its place on his soft lips when your eyes wandered over the pretty snowboard.

You couldn't look away as he leaned forward to tie his shoes, arms flexing as he tightened them to fit his legs better, and your need to go running to the snow and maybe scream a few minutes had suddenly increased.

You were approaching him when you felt someone lightly touch your arm. It was a guy around your age, you noticed, smiling widely at you, and you could tell he worked there by the tag on his chest. Shindou Yo, it read. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, thank you." You muttered, feeling somewhat shy after taking a glance at his smiling face and noticing just how handsome he was. You followed him to the counter when he told you to come with you, making you forget the existence of the crimson gaze that was following you wherever you went.

You didn't feel it, but Bakugou watched you as you gave your name and room number to the charming boy, unaware (or maybe aware?) to his flirty remarks as he pulled out the skiing gear you rented, smiling and giggling as he said something Bakugou couldn't quite hear. You finally realized the dirty looks the blonde was sending you as Shindou kneeled before you to help you wear the ski shoes and gears, but even then, you only smiled and waved at Bakugou, not noticing how he gritted his teeth.

"Oh, fuck this." Bakugou muttered and raised to his legs, grabbing his snowboard and storming out of the room when Shindou laid his hand on your thigh to 'support' himself to stand up. "Bakugou?" You furrowed your brows and tilted your head when you noticed him sprinting outside. You quickly realized the rest of your friends had left, too.

Thanking Shnidou, you stood up, running out of the room, only to sigh in relief when you noticed your friends had gathered right outside of the hotel, Sero trying to help Denki wear his ski gears, but both failing miserably.

"Y/N, right here!" Mina called and waved at you, and it was hard not to see her in her shiny silver puffer jacket. "Oh, I thought you guys left without waiting for me." You spoke, breathless when you finally arrived next to them.

"Aw, we would never!" Mina chuckled. "Bakugou would, though. Did, also."

"What, he left?"

"Yep, said he was going to leave ahead since quote unquote, he couldn't wait for slow extras like us."

You frowned, you thought you would be together the whole day! So he wasn't going to stay with you guys for not even five minutes? "I'm going after him." You informed Mina, skiing as quickly as you could down the small slope, in which's end stood the beginning of the chair lift.

You quickly spotted the spiky ash blond head, holding the giant indigo snowboard in his hands with a very grumpy look on his face. You sighed, and he looked pissed. "Bakugou!" You called out, trying to get to him before his turn in the line came, not so nicely pushing people in front of you to draw near him.

"Bakugou!" You called once again, and this time you were sure he had heard but ignored you. "Hey, asshole!" You spoke, this time in a normal voice since you had finally drawn close to him, touching his arm to get his attention.

"What're you doing here?" Bakugou asked without taking as much as a glance at you and making you narrow your eyes. "What do you mean, what are you doing here?" You snapped.

"I said, what are you doing here? What, did your new boyfriend leave you already?"

"New boyfriend? What the hell are you talking about?" But instead of getting a rational answer, instead of getting any response, you watched as he gave you a soft 'hmph!' and turn back in front of him. You would've pushed the subject if it wasn't your turn in the line, and you were already regretting this as you entered the chair lift right after him.

~~~

"What the hell is your problem?" You muttered after sitting in silence for a good 15 minutes, you still had about 5 minutes till you landed, but it was enough for you to have and end this conversation, you thought.

"What is my problem? What the fuck is your problem? You were the one who chased me till here, after all." Bakugou growled in response, pulling the black ski mask down to his chin as he spoke. "I chased you because you left us and went ahead! We came here as a group, so why would you go off alone?"

"And what the fuck is this new boyfriend shit you're talking about?"

"Oh, you just had to bring him up." Bakugou muttered under his breath. "Shut up, idiot. We're going to land in a minute, so raise your legs." He instructed, pulling the safety bar over your head when you complied.

"You ready?" He asked when the chair came to the smooth surface, knowing very well how you struggled each time you landed from these things. "Okay," he answered when you nodded, instinctively taking your hand in his gloved ones, "one, two, jump!"

He jumped with you, holding and pulling you to himself when you lost your balance despite his instructions, and you could feel the breath he exhaled as he chuckled on your hair. "Don't laugh!" You frowned, only making him laugh harder. "Whatever, come here so the next ones to jump won't run into you." Bakugou pulled you to the side.

"Oh, look, Sero and Mina are in the ones right after this one!" You told and pointed to your friends, Mina waving in her hands in her seat like mad and shaking the chair in mid-air.

"I'm never riding this thing with Mina again." Sero took a breath of relief as they jumped down from the chair, too. "Don't worry the next ones are the single chair ones." Mina assured him with a cheeky grin, her response making both you and Bakugou gulp audibly.

"Oh, fuck."

"Oh, no!" You cried out.

"What's happening?"

"Oh, that's okay, Y/N, even I fall sometimes!" Mina assured you, not aware of how your situation was. "No, you don't understand." You told her. "I suck at them! I have the 1 out of 20 chance of arriving at the end of them without falling!"

"Oh my god." You rubbed your temples.

"She can't ride those single seat ones for her life." Bakugou answered instead of you.

"Yep, she's not even exaggerating." Bakugou assured her.

"Are you sure, you know we can help-"

"Shut up, raccoon eyes." Bakugou growled at her, making her shrug and wait in the line. "Okay, now." Bakugou turned to you. "Stop being so stiff. It's fucking easy if you just relax."

Mina quickly became aware of how sincere you were with your 18th failed attempt at the single-seat chair lifts. "You guys go ahead," Bakugou finally told them. "I'll help this idiot and come right after."

"I'm sorry for not wanting to fall on my butt again!" You gritted through your teeth as you nervously eyed the lift. "You won't fall on your ass if you just do as I say!" Bakugou snapped back. "Look at me, dumbass. It's alright."

He frowned when you stood still. "Look, I'll sit at the one right after you, okay? I'll catch you if you fall."

"Promise?" You asked, smiling when he nodded. "Well then, let's do this."

You watched as Kirishima went first, Denki going second, Mina following him, and Sero going right after. "Your turn, dumbass." Bakugou nudged you. "Look, we can try it a few minutes later if you don't feel ready-"

"No, no, it's okay." You smiled. "I can do it if I know you're there to catch me."

And you did.

For the first time that day, you managed to go more than a meter, still as stiff as ever, but a feeling of relief bubbling inside of you as you knew Bakugou was right behind you. "Whoo!" Mina cheered when she noticed you were riding it without falling the past minute.

"Did she do it?" Denki shouted from in front of you, and you giggled when you heard Kirishima whistling from the beginning of the line. "Did she do it, did she do- fuck!" You heard Denki's muffled curse, eyes widening in horror when you realized he fell as he tried to look back at you.

The idiot he is, Denki didn't even think of skidding to the side so he wouldn't cause Mina to fall, too, but he did. Mina accidentally kicked the blond, who sat dumbly on the floor, with her ski gears when she tried to raise her legs so she wouldn't tangle with him, but she did anyway.

"Oh, fuck, stand aside, stand aside!" Sero cried out, but the two on the ground were panicking and weren't thinking as they kept sitting in the middle of the path. Luckily, Mina managed to throw herself into the soft pile of snow the last second before Sero crushed into her, but Denki wasn't as quick.

"Denki, don't you fucking dare!" You shouted.

"You fucking idiot! Stop it, you're going to make me fall, too!" Sero shouted when he noticed Denki was sitting there intentionally, reaching and grabbing Sero's seat, making the gear pull the both of them.

You would've laughed at the sight if you weren't so scared of falling, since watching Denki hang from a seat by hands and the rest of his body get dragged on the snow, his face and body buried in the snow and screams muffled by all the snow he was eating as Sero slapped his fingers and tried to kick him off, was a sight to behold. But you let out a silent scream when Denki let go of Sero's seat, eyes finding you, his next prey.

"Kick him in the fucking face!" Bakugou shouted from right behind you, but you had lost your balance before you could even comply. Letting go of the rope you were holding on to, you let yourself fall on the snow and immediately retracting to the soft snow pile off the road.

"Bakugou?" You turned around, and Bakugou couldn't help but think how cute you looked, face red from lying in the snow, hair tangled. "Did Denki make you fall, too?" You chuckled, not even trying to stand up, snow was pretty comfortable, you realized.

"You could say that." He shrugged.

You were laying face down on the snow, chest heaving as you waited for your heart to slow down. "What the fuck are you doing there, or are you dead?" You heard a familiar voice call from behind you.

"What does that even mean?" You smiled knowingly. "Or did you jump after me?"

"Hm, and what if I did?" He kneeled on the snow, leaning in, his face so close that his warm breath and caramel scent the only two things you could register for a few seconds. "I promised I'd catch you if you fell."

Bakugou hadn't expected to hear you chuckle when he said that, and he wasn't sure if he was happy or angry about it. "Well, you didn't do a good job, did you? I am lying in the snow, after all."

You had a point, and knowing that caused Bakugou to frown. "I'm leaving you here." He sighed, standing up and cruelly kicking some snow on your face, too.

"Hey, no, wait! Come back, Bakugou!" You cried out. "I can't stand up, my legs stuck!" It was true since your ski had sunk in the snow at a very odd angle when you threw yourself over it, making your ankle hurt when you moved it even an inch. "Bakugou! Please!" You called out one more time, not expecting him to sigh and turn back to help you.

"How did you even do this?" Bakugou asked as he examined your leg, touching and pulling it slightly, rolling his eyes when you whined to tell him it hurt. "Stop being a baby."

"It hurts!" You answered at the accusation, feeling somewhat awkward as he inspected your legs closely, as you lay there watching the sky or playing with the snow, making snow castles, groaning every so often when he pulled at your leg. "Okay, I'll take off your ski now- Y/N, what the fuck? Stop playing with the snow and help me!"

"What am I supposed to do- ow!"

"I don't know... talk about your new boyfriend or something." He spoke, narrowing his eyes at the thought and pulling your leg a bit too harshly. "I untied the ski, but you have to pull your leg." He instructed.

"I'm bored of this new boyfriend issue, I don't even understand what the hell you're talking about!" You whined as you did as he said and pulled your leg despite the sharp pain. You actually did have an idea of what he was angry at, but it was so dumb, you didn't even want to think he was jealous of a guy you talked to for 5 minutes tops.

"Ah, fuck." You moved your now fee leg, brows furrowing when you felt a sharp stab of pain. "I think I injured it."

"I'll take you back to the hotel." Bakugou sighed, sitting on the floor to untie his snowboard as well. "Can you walk?"

"I'm not sure." You answered honestly. It hurt a lot to walk in unpressed snow since it was already hard to walk in it without being injured. "Okay, wait a second." He stood up, leaning towards you. "Bakugou what are- oh." You stood still as he snaked his arms beneath your leg and back, pulling you to himself and lifting you to his chest.

"I'm willing to bet you won't be able to walk." He huffed, his warm breath touching your neck. "Yeah, but are you sure you'll be able to carry me all the way to the hotel?"

You smiled when he quirked a brow at you as if to ask, are you challenging me?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" He smirked proudly. "Are you okay? Comfortable? Is your leg okay?"

"I'm fine, don't worry." You chuckled, leaning back into him and relaxing between his arms. It felt nice to be in his hold. "Let's go, quick, since I'm sure my new boyfriend's very worried too." You teased, your words bringing his movements to a halt.

"I won't have mercy and drop you face into the snow." He growled, but you grinned cheekily. "No, you won't."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Hm," you nuzzled to him, you could hear his quickening heartbeats. "I think you like me a bit too much for that." You muttered, feeling braver than you probably should, trying to hide your nervousness with a smile.

"Well, maybe I do." He whispered, his eyes locked on your lips. "But I have another way to get back at him."

"And what's that?"

"I can kiss you, you know. Make him as jealous as I've been feeling this whole day."

You leaned towards him as well. "I'm not complaining." You smiled, closing the gap between your lips and smiling into the kiss. Bakugou could feel the warmth of the kiss spreading to his chest.

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha scenarios #mha x reader #mha imagines #bnha bakugou

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delldarling · 4 years

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the city is hoarding hearts | arroven

male dragon x gender/body neutral reader 9015 words lemon | mention of drinking alcohol, face riding, size difference, fairly submissive monster, penetrative sex, poetry, touch starved note: behold! my modern epic fantasy universe! this world first appeared back in August for my Patreon Story of the Month, and though I haven’t revisited Arroven again just yet, I did return to this universe for December’s Story of the Month as well. 👀

Magic, despite people's claim to the contrary, is beyond rare these days. No one really claims that it isn’t real, that it didn’t once run rampant with it’s existence. After all, it’s impossible to deny when people have things like the architecture of the North to reference. The towers built into their seaside cliffs, spiraling up like the serpents of old reaching for the sun? Without magic, without gravity spells, and an everlasting charm on those spells, thick enough to double as a coat of paint, the towers would have fallen into the sea by now, dashed against the dark stones jutting out from the deep green waters. Many people, though especially the elves, think that the towers will endure long after the cliffs have crumbled into the water. Floating relics, you’ve heard more than a few people murmur, wonder in their voices, wouldn’t that be something?

Even more common now, there are people the world over that claim they have a spark of magic left still, that they can feel the rhythms of the magical tide flooding back over the world.

She Wakes is written on street corners and thick posters, spray painted on the underside of the colossal Echo Bridge. No matter how often they have workers doing their best to clean the graffiti up, the giant letters are back in place a few days later.

Despite how much you’d like to believe them, as everyone dreams of the rumors, of magic returning, you’ve never put too much stock into the whispered words. Why would you? No matter how often you’ve spent watching wispy clouds streak by your window, no matter how often you’ve taken a moment to reflect on the thought, to nurse a seed of hope… Nothing has ever come of it.

It’s why you keep trying to ignore that heavy ache in the arch of your feet, or the way you keep noticing advertisements for Arroven.

History books and the elderly all say that this is how it starts when magic finally blooms in someone’s blood. There’s an itch. An ache. A constant irritant that starts in your extremities and wriggles into your veins, and then coincidences will start to pile up. Small things, like noticing whenever the clock strikes 11:11 on whatever clock you pass. Or maybe it’s having the luck to switch the radio station to your favorite song without fail, or—

“Stop it,” you mutter to yourself when you spot it. You breath puffs out into the chilly air, adding to the fog lingering in the streets. You kneel, brushing aside some of the fallen damask leaves, their velvety backs clinging to your touch even as you do your best to shake them off. Just barely hidden under their litter is a postcard. Without even glancing at it, you know what you’ll find on the back, but you’re drawn to pick it up anyway, turning it over. It depicts a sprawling city with green undertones, the word Arroven written in a sloping, beautiful script along the bottom of the image. The edges are creased, almost lovingly, and there’s a small puncture hole at the top left corner, as if someone had it pinned to a corkboard for no short amount of time.

Until this moment, you haven’t picked up any of the advertisements for Arroven. The stories all say that you can ignore it, that the magic will go away and fade from you like an ebbing tide if you only will it hard enough, but… You don’t know that you really want it to leave. Those seeds have hope might not have fully sprouted, but their roots have run deep, snaking through your veins. You swallow past the dryness in your throat and turn the postcard over, wonder if you’re going to get an address, or if there are words of encouragement intended for the last owner.

The postcard is faintly yellowed at the edges, but it’s otherwise blank.

You wilt, disappointed, but you don’t throw it back down onto the stones. If you check the railway listings, you’re more than certain that you’ll find a one way trip to Arroven suddenly dirt cheap. The pathway that will lead you there is probably paved with strangely good fortune, more invisible hooks ready to find a secure hold in your heart. You might as well find out if there’s anything to these claims of magic. You have far too much hope shored up in your bones and pumping through your chest not to at least try.

A month later, and you’re starting to believe that whatever magic that led you this far has all but fled. Of course, you’re more than content with where it’s left you, a word rattling around in the back of your brain and clamoring to spill from your lips: home. Arroven feels like home.

It’s not just the city though. It’s your place. It’s the stones that pave the streets and the people that fill them. It’s the smell of bakeries and the faint hint of exhaust. It’s the clean smell of paper and ink from the stationary shop you’d stumbled into on your first night in Arroven, and the proprietor’s barely-there smile. You’d made fast friends with her almost instantly, like it was fate.

Mora, despite her solemn stature, and the vast amount of spiraling tattoos disappearing under the neck of her cleanly pressed shirts, is beyond kind. She possesses a startling, sparkling wit that leaves a smile lingering on your lips whenever you think of her snappy little comments. She’d given you a job in her shop a few days after you’d first arrived, perking up as soon as you’d come back into her shop. She needed a cashier, so she could have more time to develop her own inks, and then a few days after that you literally stumbled onto a showing of a furnished apartment. It had fit all of your needs, and your shoes had sunk into the plush carpet of the bedroom, like a quiet voice in the place asking you to stay.

The ache in your feet had eased, that strange little irritant in the back of your mind fading with every passing day. You haven’t put too much thought into magic since then, as there hasn’t been a reason when you have a new job to keep you busy, and a city to explore on your days off. You love it here, the sea green patina on the copper statues, the swirling architecture that extends to every building in the city, no matter how large or small. Besides, you know if you go looking into magic again, at the message boards or if you go hunting down books, it’s likely that they’ll all say much the same thing: She Wakes, and her gift will blossom in you, but not Forever. She moves us like pawns, adjusting us Just So, no matter how small the slot She needs filled.

You’ve read it all before, have heard debates shouted in the streets or argued about in the back corner of classrooms. Magic moves through people as it wills, and no amount of pleading will keep it in you unless you’re a mage, and even then, that takes years of study. If the magic that led you here only existed long enough for you to make your home? Then you’ll have to be satisfied with that.

And you are, until that ache in your feet starts up again.

Late one evening, as you’re locking the back door of Rumoura’s, it floods through you fast enough to steal your breath. There’s no voice, no heavy hand on your shoulder, just a fierce pain that wells, threatening to bring tears to your eyes, until you turn to the right. You blink, surprise at the sudden and complete lack of pain, and take a ragged breath as you pocket the key to the door. When you feel steady enough, when your lungs no longer ache, you turn to the right and start walking.It takes you about ten minutes to realize you’re headed towards the main park, the one with ancient ruins of a half finished serpent tower peppered throughout its boundaries. You’ve walked through once, one golden afternoon with Mora, and you’ve been meaning to come back sometime on your lunch break. The past few days have been busy though, with a flood of students coming back to Arroven, stocking up on both casual and serious supplies from Mora’s shop.

Besides, there’s always been time to explore at your leisure now that you’re living here.

Two towering trees make a grand arch over the park entrance, and the slow swirl of damask leaves spiraling down from the branches make you laugh.

“Coincidence,” you murmur, a small smile curling your lips, and you walk into the park. The paths are well lit, even this late in the evening. This part of the city doesn’t boast about it’s lack of crime, but most people feel it. There always seems to be groups of people roaming: Elven tourists, hooking arms and laughing over cups of tea and coffee, Orcish artists and musicians, setting up on benches or street corners, busking for the simple sake of sharing their art with others. You wander through the park, expecting to simply take in the sights among the meandering attendees, but.. You haven’t seen anyone for the past few minutes. Your footsteps start to slow, wondering if you missed a sign somewhere and you have the nagging feeling that you just need to find someone.

Cautiously, you keep moving, the sudden bout of nervousness easing when you see someone up ahead. They’re sitting at the foot of one of the rather large blocks of toppled variscite, a dark hoodie hiding their face. Their shoulders are broad, and their clothes are a little more ragged than you see on people around here, but it gives off more of a well lived look than a dangerous one. They’re tapping the toes of their boots together, the tread of them worn smooth, and a low, masculine hum reaches your ears the closer you get. He stops as soon as you’re within speaking range though, crossing his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees. There’s a street lamp not too far behind him, and with the hood and the angle of the light, it casts most of his face in shadow. All you can spy is a pair of long, thorn-like ear gauges, curling out from the depths of his hood. They’re bigger around than a thimble and sharp looking from this far away.

“Nice evening, hm?” You say in greeting, hoping that if he doesn’t want to speak, he’ll just bob his head and let you move along. You haven’t run into any trouble in Arroven yet, but even with that strange ache, you don’t know that you can see your good luck lasting forever.

“A lovely one,” he mumbles and he leans back, hands grabbing at his knees and squeezing like he’s the nervous one.

That thought makes you stop, your eyes focusing a bit more intensely on what you can see of his skin. At first glance, his knuckles are bruised and paint splattered, nails split and a little too long, skin rough in texture. You blink, realizing that his knuckles aren’t bruised, his skin just mirrors the strange patterns of the variscite he’s sitting on, ink black and sea green, and the rough texture to his skin has pointy, scalloped edges.

The noise he makes isn’t a sigh, not quite, but he turns his face away, as if he expects you to ignore him, or run, and his hood edges back, just a sliver. The arch of his nose is straight as an arrow, and his nostrils are thin things, slashing upwards. His face has so many angles that it’s hard to tear your gaze away. You wish you could see his eyes, but he has them closed, like he’s still bracing himself for a blow.

“Are you.. Are you alright?” You ask, because it seems like the thing to say, with how tense he is, with how he’s waiting.

His eyes flash open, reflective in the depths of his hood. His mouth curls into a frown when he turns to look at you again. His eyes are still the eerie glam of a reflected light. “You’re not frightened?”

“Are you?” You ask, ignoring the thundering of your own heart. You’ve seen Trolls before, and even a few half-elves or half-orcs of varying descent, with skin that just barely reminds you of his, but.. You’re willing to bet he isn’t any of those.

“A bit?” He says, unsure, and the edge of a violet tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip. “It’s been a few centuries since any of you have made yourself so at home here that you stumbled across me.” He hunches his shoulders, looking away from you for the breadth of a second, before he can’t help himself. His eyes flick back to you, rove over you from head to toe, almost greedily. “You felt a call then, an itch?”

“An ache,” you correct, staring at him with wide eyes. Centuries? The long lived races don’t often mention the time they have over others. It’s rude at the best of times, and most of them are terrible sticklers for manners.

“At home here, you said?” You ask, knowing that something about him seems terribly familiar.

Your question makes him pause, brow lifting before he finally pushes himself to his feet. He unfolds, all long, heavy limbs, but doesn’t move from his spot on the variscite. “M-.. Arroven. You do think of the city as home?” He breathes in, hesitantly lifting his chin. “Not to be rude,” he says, a little awkwardly, “but you smell like Arroven.”

All at once, the old poem flickers back into your mind, the one about hearts and desires and winter. The oldest folktales of the first cities, those built around the serpent towers, all seemed to carry the poem with them. It was both a warning and a blessing to those that wished to stay. You’d have to hunt down the entirety of it, but the ending couplet?

The city promises, you’ll be most adored So can you, will you, join the hoard?

You bite down fiercely on the desire to blurt out dragon, but he must sense it, might even see the aborted twist of your lips.

“..you’ve figured it out, then?” He asks, and when his shoulders droop, you spy the barest edge of a wing, tucked in close to his back. “If being in my immediate vicinity is a problem, I quite understand, but please stay in the city. You-” He blows out a breath, large hands fussing about with his hoodie pocket. Everything about him reads awkward, almost shy. “You’re safe here, I promise.” He breathes in again, like he can’t resist, eyes falling closed when his violet tongue appears, there and gone before you can blink. “You belong,” he murmurs and tangles his fingers in the material of his hoodie, like he would reach out if he didn’t stop himself.

Inexplicably, you wonder if Mora knows about the city patron. If you should waltz into the shop tomorrow and announce: I’ve officially been welcomed to the hoard. ...Sort of. Before you lose your nerve, before you can bite your tongue, you ask. “An official welcome involves more drinks though, doesn’t it?”

-Arroven, the dragon, the founder of the city, is sitting across the table from you, slouching in a barstool that has a difficult time encompassing his enormous body. Despite his height, and the way his hood shadows his face in a frankly ominous way, no one is paying him any attention. One of the bartender’s had slid a drink list your way as soon as you’d claimed the seats, but she hadn’t even glanced at Arroven. In fact, you think her eyes might have skipped right over his seat. It’s a little disconcerting, seeing as he’d claimed that Wink was one of the best bars around, but if they ignore him, if they can’t see him?

“What’ll it be?” A different bartender asks, a tall elf, with his hair plaited back in a complicated braid. He has pleasant features, though he looks a little flustered, a lock or two of dark hair escaping his braid. You think he might be on the newer end when he fumbles a bit with the card you slide his way, olive skin flushing when his fingers nearly touch yours.

“Uh, the special,” you finally decide, expecting him to turn to Arroven so he can order as well. Your jaw drops when he whirls, not even bothering. “Ar- hey, wait!”

The elf turns back, smiling vaguely, looking even more tense now that he can’t leave straight off, but he doesn’t seem to see Arroven when you gesture towards him. His gaze zips right through the neckline of Arroven's hoodie, straight on through to the next customer.

Perturbed, you lean in close to Arroven, heart skipping a beat due to his proximity. He smells faintly of musty books, and stone, cooling in the early evening after baking in the sunshine of a warm day. "Didn’t you want something?” You force yourself to ask, unwilling to let the elf leave without at least checking with him first. He doesn’t have to get anything, but you’d hoped he would, if only so you can spend a while longer in his company. Maybe the flirtatious tone you’d struck had made him uncomfortable?

For a moment Arroven hunches further into his sweatshirt, and you think your fears might hold weight. You are a little close, and you still don’t know each other terribly well yet. You straighten, hoping you don’t look as embarrassed as you feel and Arroven heaves out a sigh. He finally tugs back his hood, though the elf behind the bar doesn’t even blink. “Just a.. a Beetle Wing," he mutters, large, sharp teeth catching the light. The elf nods, though his gaze is still on you when Arroven speaks, and turns away to go make the drinks.

Without the darkness of night, without his hood shadowing his face, you see that his eyes aren’t permanently reflective. In the dim lights of the bar, they’re a lovely shade of blue-green that matches well with his skin. What you thought were ear gauges were actually his horns, thick and curving, and trailing after the clean arch of his jaw. His ears are heavy with plugs though, and they clink against his horns when he turns, noticing that you’re staring. The scent of hot stone grows stronger when you smile at him, and then he huffs, looking away and running a hand through his already tousled, short dark hair. You catch sight of scales on his scalp and then blink. It’s not hair on his head, it’s feathers. His eyebrows are much the same, in miniature. Fine, thin feathers, as ink dark as the scalloped edges of his scales.

“So,” you tease, hoping your questions won’t come off as prying. “Can the rest of the people in here see you at all? You said that it’d been a while since anyone had felt at home enough here to stumble across you, but.. I don’t know exactly if that means Magicis is at work, or something else.”

Arroven breathes in, glancing up at the filigreed round sign hanging over the bar. There’s a single neon eye in the middle, opening and closing on loop under the word WINK. Even with the noise of people talking, and the music coming steadily from the small corner of a dance floor, you can still hear the faint buzz and click of the neon switching over. “Not many,” he finally confesses. “If the proprietor were here, she would see me, but she’s been here for a.. For a while.” She’s one of the long lived races then. Arroven turns, taking a quick look over the other patrons, tense, as if he expects one of them to approach. “The couple near the dance floor there,” he finally says, pointing out two women leaning into each other, stealing sips of each other’s drinks. “The orcish fellow on his phone. They can see me, though I doubt they’ll realize who I am. Just living here doesn’t make someone part of the hoard, though it’s always a step in the right direction.” For a second, he looks like he might let the subject drop, but then he cringes, glancing at your eyes before he looks away. “I don’t- I don’t steal from the people living here, whether they’re part of my hoard or not, even if they don’t realize I’m around. Even if they can’t see me.”

That’s reassuring, though you hadn’t planned on diving into that topic.

“What then,” you ask, leaning your chin in the palm of your hand, and your elbow on the bar, “makes someone part of your hoard?”

Arroven’s rough looking scales don’t shine, but the neon light over the both of you shifts again from blue, to pink, and back. It was already hard for you to take your eyes off of him, knowing who he is, attracted to the nervous quirk of his lips, but now? The magic that you’ve only ever felt the after effects of, the strange aches and coincidences, it feels like more in this moment. More than a soft nudge in the correct direction. Arroven is sitting at your side, winking neon sign a spotlight over both your heads.

Hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, Arroven lifts his hand, reaching out, and taps once, softly, against your sternum. “It sounds esoteric, but the only explanation I have is that all of you feels like you should be here. From the way you smell, to the echoes of your voice or your footsteps along the pavement...” Arroven swallows, and then inhales, letting his hand fall away from your chest as his eyes close. He doesn’t pull his hand back completely though, just lets his hand hover over your thigh. “It’s always the desires of the heart that bring my hoard home,” he murmurs and starts to sway towards you.

There’s a soft clink on the bar, your drinks being set carefully in front of you and Arroven. When you look, the bartender still hasn’t noticed the city patron, the dragon, but the drink is still clearly set aside for him. Your card is placed very quickly next to your glass, the elf flashing you a much more jovial smile than earlier.

“Your drink has been taken care of,” he explains, but doesn’t stay behind to point out who might have bought them. When you look, Arroven is sitting straight up in his seat, and his guilty expression is answer enough.

“I was supposed to be welcoming you to the city,” he murmurs, turning in his stool so he can take hold of his glass. The liquid inside is iridescent, shifting from what looks like violet, to a strange umber. You’re willing to bet that it’s more blue and green, but the neon light isn’t doing it too many favors. Arroven lifts his cup, patiently waiting for you to do the same and then quietly toasts your arrival. The clink of the glasses rings in your ears with the clarity of a bell, echoes lasting far longer than the noise itself.

“Goodness,” you say, coughing when you finish your swallow. Your drink is a little stronger than you thought it would be, heat already spiralling down into your chest and filling your belly. “So, uh, the city blessings seem to be true, I take it?” You don’t look at him as you speak, afraid he’ll cringe away from the mention of them.

“Blessings?” Arroven asks, and then you have to search up the poem. He sounds like he doesn't know, but they're supposed to be as old as the cities. Or near as.

“Sometimes they vary, from city to city. But most of the time they have almost the same structure. The same meaning,” you explain, pulling up the poem on your phone. “Hoarding hearts, keeping people safe in winter. The, uh-” You turn it his way, but he doesn’t take the phone from you, just reads the words out of the palm of your hand, brows raised by the time he gets to the end.

“‘Sinking talons into your thighs?’” Arroven’s slit pupils grow wide, nearly drowning his iris in darkness. He straightens, taking another hasty gulp of his drink. He laughs when he’s finished, nerves finally beginning to ease. “That’s how they’re translating it these days?” He asks, but you notice his eyes lingering on your hands, drifting down to your knees and the way you’re sitting.

You pass a good portion of the evening, teetering back and forth with conversation about the city now, and how it was when Arroven had first settled. For all that he’s wearing modern clothes and walking on two feet, you can see him in a larger, more draconic figure, delving into the variscite mines and overseeing the people that had decided to settle under his watch.

He’s just as enthralled with your stories though, hanging onto your every word, even though he’s still clearly a little anxious. He abandons his hunched and wary demeanor as soon as you start talking about the magic though. All the little aches and nudges and postcards that had led a clear path to his city. To him.

You insist on buying the next round when he makes to wave down the bartender, who is still completely oblivious to his presence, but Arroven stops you with a hand on your wrist.

"Another time," he says, just loud enough for you to hear. "A welcome isn't a single round, is it?" He asks, a tentative smile revealing a small glimpse of those sharp teeth.

You could argue. You have the feeling that he would let it go if you pushed, but the smile sways you. It's the first time he's spoken without lowering his eyes mid sentence. You accept the drink, and try not to stare when his smile grows, shy and small and all the more endearing for it.

You both pretend not to notice each other grinning after that.

It’s just past 1 AM by the time the both of you leave the bar, only slightly unsteady after a few drinks and a few plates of bar food. Warmth floods you when Arroven’s hand finds your elbow, just barely keeping you from stumbling off the edge of the sidewalk and into the street. All it takes is a single stroke of his thumb over your arm for you to throw aside any worries you might have about flirting.

He's reciprocated, in quiet ways, for the last hour or so. He’s leaned into you whenever you lowered your voice, had let his eyes linger on your hands and thighs after you brought up the poem.. The worst thing he can do is say no.

“Come to my place?” You blurt and Arroven stutters, hand spasming in his grip on your arm. For a heart wrenching moment, you think he might turn you down, but he finally bobs his head, gauges clicking against his horns with the motion. “...You said you’d been out of the loop with the people living here,” you start, mouth dry, wondering if he knows what you’re trying to ask, but still a little too sober to spell it out. “I’m asking, I’m not just asking you to come visit. I-”

Arroven stops your worried speech with a slightly awkward smile. “I know what you’re getting at,” he finally says with a gentle huff of a laugh, hand sliding down your arm until he can twine his fingers about yours. His breath hitches, and for a moment you think he might stop, might pull away. “I- I would love to,” he says quietly, and squeezes until his fingernails gently prick the back of your hand.

Wordless with triumph, you flash another smile his way, heart pounding as you keep hold of his hand, ventral scales dry, but slick against your palm.

“The walk back to my place is a bit of a long one from here,” you confess, glancing at the handful of cabs loitering along the street. “Seeing as you got the drinks, I can—” You nearly trip over your own feet when Arroven tugs you back, keeping you from approaching any of the cabs.

“I don’t.. Fit very well,” he says, apologetically. “If you would rather take one, I can, but if you aren’t opposed..” Arroven’s wings, still tucked in flat along his back, quirk and stretch, spreading wide enough that he nearly clips another leaving bar patron in the face. They don’t move, don’t see him, but they blink, as if a gust of wind just hit them, and shield their eyes until they’re well past you and Arroven.

His statement leaves you staring, jaw beginning to grow slack. “Are you saying you can fly us back to my place?” Your eyes trace his wings again, the fragile veins spider webbing across the membranes. It’s not that you thought they were ornamental, but it’s one thing to see them, and another to know you’ll get to witness their use first hand.

Arroven’s shoulders start to hunch, but his eyes flick down to your hand, fingers still curled around his. He smiles instead. “Yes?”

You glance at the cabs, and then back to Arroven’s tall figure and broad shoulders. As much as you’d like being pressed up against him, trapped in the backseat of an uncomfortable cab isn’t quite what you’d pictured, and he’s already nervous enough. That settles things. You nod, just the once and lift your chin to meet his eyes. “Flying it is then! We can’t have you getting stuck in one of those, can we?”

While Arroven walks you through how he’s going to pick you up, how he’s going to hold onto you, some of the people on the sidewalk start to watch you. You’re nodding readily at what they assume to be empty air. You spare a second to wonder if they’ll see you vanish, or if they’ll be able to see the equivalent of a magical wind carrying you away. That would cause quite a stir, wouldn't it? You forget to ask Arroven about it though when he holds out his arm, waiting patiently for you to step closer, fingers gentle in their continued grip on your hand.

He’s still giving you the chance to turn away.

You take a breath, thinking back to the nerves you’d felt, packing up a bag and deciding to visit somewhere based on coincidences and the hearsay of magic. You think of Mora, and the apartment that feels more like home to you than nearly anything else ever has. The way everything fits here, every piece of the city you've set foot in branded on your brain, clearer than any map. You step close, eagerly letting Arroven curl his arm around your back and then lift you up in a bridal carry. His forearms and biceps tense, bracing you as he prepares, and then the snap of his wings flaring open makes your heart jump before he leaps. His wings catch a sudden breeze swooping into the street, allowing it to lift the both of you well clear of the ground before he starts to flap. The slight dip in elevation as he finds his rhythm makes you clutch a little tighter, but Arroven doesn’t complain. In fact, when you glance at him, he seems to be holding back a smug little smile.

It’s cold when he finally crests over the top of the nearest buildings. Between the chill, and the fast growing height between you and the ground, you have no issues absolutely clinging to Arroven’s neck. You don't feel like you're going to fall, but it's still safer than sitting meekly in his arms, isn't it? You try to twist your head about to see everything below you, but another rush of cold wind makes you squint. It takes a moment before you realize Arroven isn't moving though, he's simply keeping the both of you suspended in midair.

“Your address?” Arroven asks as soon as you start to frown, his voice rumbling against your ear.

“Ah.” You give it to him, laughing when you meet his still-shy gaze. “I suppose that’s a little important.”

While the walk would have left you both a little tired, the flight is a fairly short one. You have just enough time to relish all the places you’re pressed in close, to enjoy what little warmth you’ve managed to keep with the wind seeping through your clothes, when Arroven lands in front of your quiet building. There are no witnesses but the dim streetlights, the sound of his flapping wings muffled by the mist beginning to roll through the city. Arroven lowers you almost reluctantly, fingers slow to uncurl so you can step down onto the pavement. He takes a step back as soon as you do, like he needs the space between you to think.

“Still up for coming inside?” You ask, giving him the same chance he’d given you earlier. You jerk a thumb at the locked door, searching for your keys with your other hand.

Arroven’s head jerks forward almost too fast, the dark feathers on his skull prickling upwards. His wings snap closed, tight against his back again as soon as you unlock your door. It’s only mildly nerve wracking, having him follow you up to your place, and you think it might be because of how nervous he’s acting. He flinches away from the wall when he barely brushes it, almost tripping over his own boots as he goes up the stairs. He’s been shy from the get-go, but this-

“Arroven,” you murmur, turning to look up at him, hand pausing on your door handle. “Is something wrong?”

He breathes out, turning his head so the plugs in his earlobes clack against his horns, blue-green eyes roving over the hall. “No,” he says slowly, forcing himself to stop hunching into his hoodie, to take his wringing hangs out of the front pocket. “I’ve just, it’s just that I keep-” He stays where he is, brow furrowing for all of five seconds before he’s huffing and stepping into your space. When Arroven leans down, his pupils are needle thin, that sunshine warm smell suffusing the air. He was summoning up courage, you realize, just in time to let your eyes fall closed as he cradles your jaw with both hands. They dwarf your human face, his fingertips easily reaching all the way to the back of your neck, but his touch may well be the softest thing you’ve ever known. His kiss is more the brush of his mouth over the shape of yours, a slip of a taste when his tongue follows the curve of your lower lip. He hums, softly, but when you kiss him back? When your tongue touches his and you try to stand on your tip-toes to deepen things, when you stumble a step closer—Arroven’s groan is gratifying. Achingly slowly, he draws his hands down the side of your neck, leaving you free to control the pace of the kiss. His thumbs trace your collarbone, slow, deep circles that make you wish you weren’t standing out here, fully clothed and too warm.

You pull away, licking your lips and glancing down the hall. There’s no one there, despite your pulse loud in your ears and your breath heaving, surely loud enough to wake even those in the very depths of sleep. Arroven’s breath hitches, and for a moment he sways, ready to chase you for another kiss. “Wait, wait,” you say softly, trying not to smile too wide when his eyes flicker open, dark pupils growing larger. He starts to straighten, embarrassment lifting his shoulders. “Maybe we should get in my house first?” You rush to say, not wanting to potentially scar one of your neighbors, but not wanting him to rush away either.

His mouth opens on reflex, and then closes, slipping into a gentle smile. “Yes,” he says, and then you have to swallow, watching his eyes slide down to your hands and then further down to your knees.

You get your door open before he touches you again, but you’re only a few steps inside when Arroven reaches for you. He strokes the back of his knuckles down your forearm, fingertips only barely grazing your hips. “I’ve missed this,” he whispers, one of his fingers catching two of yours. “Touching,” he explains, the edge of his thumbnail stroking over your wrist and the base of your thumb and back. “Being close to, well…” He breathes in when you step into him, and grows as still as a statue when you balance against him, reaching around his middle to swing the front door shut. This close, Arroven still smells of sunshine, but there’s a sweeter, crisper undertone that makes you want to close your eyes to savor it, to breathe it in. He’s nearly vibrating with you pressed close though, hands hovering somewhere over the middle of your back, trying to keep himself still. He’s waiting for you to give him the go ahead, still caught up in his nerves... Or maybe just manners?

You grin, gently pushing yourself back a step before you smooth out your expression. “Part of your hoard?” You wonder aloud, but then you can’t keep yourself straight faced any longer, wanting him to recognize the words for the gentle teasing they are. You smile. “How about you touch me then?”

Arroven huffs, pleased, and then you quickly discover how needy he can be. He kisses you all the way down the hall, his wings nearly catching on picture frames, hands trembling in their stroking over your back. He keeps pausing at the top of your hips, like he wants to let his hands drift lower, but focuses on his mouth instead, mouth and teeth moving from your lips, to your jaw and down to your neck. You don’t think he’s willing to risk going further though, knowing that it would likely end up with both of you unbalanced and on the floor instead of the bed.

“Distracted?” You ask, reaching blindly around your doorframe, searching for the lightswitch as Arroven’s tongue flickers over the pulse on the left side of your neck. Your own breathing stutters for a moment, heat building in your veins. “You keep-”

Arroven’s breath puffs over the damp patch he’s left on your skin as he lifts his head, violet tongue sliding along the sharp points of his teeth. “Hardly,” Arroven interrupts, and his wings tense when you hook your fingers into the neck of his hoodie, drawing him further into the room. Your fingers find the lightswitch, the soft ring of the bulb lighting strangely loud in the room. “You’re all I can see. All I can focus on. ..am I missing something? Cues?” He asks, voice gone lower when you give his hoodie a fierce tug. He follows, all too willingly, fingers flexing around your hips.

“Hardly,” you say back, teasing as you back up towards the bed. You pull when you lean back, expecting him to let you fall, to fall with you, but his wings flare again. He catches himself on the blankets, hands to either side of your body, the blue-green of his eyes swallowed by his pupils as he takes the sight of you in. “Still good?” You ask after a moment, because he’s staring, because he hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Tell me,” Arroven blurts, arms tensing as his fingers twist into the blankets. “Tell me what to do,” he pleads, gaze catching on every sliver of bared skin he can find. “I’m.. finding it a little difficult to think. All I want to do is make you happy, make you want to-” He stops, feathered brows drawing together as he considers his words.

You arch an eyebrow, your hands stilling just shy of his chest. The way he’d hesitated, his flighty touches? they all make a bit more sense now. He’d asked you to stay in the city, had mentioned your belonging here. If you wanted to leave, if you insisted on stopping, Arroven wouldn’t keep you. But he wants you to stay here.

“Little to no thinking,” you muse, unable to keep from smiling as he hangs onto your every word. “Undress me,” you finally decide, and his nostrils flare before he sets to work. He’s terribly careful, every brush of his scaled knuckles whisper-soft and cool against your skin, but his breathing is ragged by the time he’s finished and your heart has sped in response. You’re tempted to make him undress himself too. In fact, he would probably do just as you asked, but you’re too impatient to get your hands back on him. “Hoodie off,” you declare, half amazed that he’s obeying your whims, “and lay down on the bed.”

Arroven listens immediately, tucking his wings in close before he’s pulling off the hoodie, careful around the curl of his horns and the arch of his wings. He isn’t wearing a shirt, but with his wings, you understand why. Most of those with wings don’t favor mass produced clothes or modern fashion. He’s on the bed before you can finish pushing yourself back up, jeans low on his hips, pale belly and chest all the brighter compared to the black and teal pattern of his scales. His legs spread reflexively when you stand, jeans growing taut when you reach for him. Your hands are steady, even if your pulse isn’t, but Arroven doesn’t seem to care. He looks blissed out from this much touch alone, jaw gone slack, eyelids heavy as you unbutton and unzip his jeans. He exhales when you pull at his jeans, eyes zeroed in on your face.

He’s thicker than he is long, and as pale as his abdomen, save for a violet tinge that makes you think of his tongue. Nestled as he is in the ‘v’ of his unzipped jeans, it’s all you can do to keep yourself from stroking him straight away, or even leaning down to-

“Maybe I can think,” Arroven says hoarsely. He lifts one of his hands, gentleman-like, offering it to you palm up. “Let me?” He asks, though you’re not entirely sure what he wants you to let him do.

Mannerly, you can’t help but think, lips twitching as you place your hand in his. The older races are, generally. It’s something to fall back on if they’re nervous or unsure. Not that most of them would ever admit to it.

“Are you thinking I should leave your boots on?” You get one knee on the bed before you pause, glancing back at his legs still hanging over the edge.

Arroven hums, but his grip on your fingers tightens for a second, not wanting to let go. “I’ll worry about those later,” he says, and then inhales sharply when you straddle his lap, cock pulsing as you settle against him. If he wants to let his jeans tangle around his boots, you’re not going to complain. It’s a bit of a thrill, knowing that he’s too impatient to fuss with them.

“Boots on, then. Now, what am I supposed to let you do?” You lean forward, drawing an aimless, spiraling pattern from his abdomen up to his ribcage. He’s much warmer now, with you astride his thighs and his wings trapped beneath him on the bed. It looks uncomfortable, but he hasn’t mentioned them once.

Hesitant, Arroven’s hold on you loosens, and then his hand drops to your thigh, eyebrows furrowing when he finally speaks. “Sit on my face?”

The brevity of it, the tone of uncertainty, makes your mouth twitch. “Jumping right in there, aren’t we? And here I thought you were kind of shy.”

“I am!” Arroven blurts and then covers his face with one hand, laughing quietly at himself. “I am,” he says, a bit more composed when he lets his hand fall away. “Though shyness has hardly ever been a factor in my favor. What is it humans say? Better to rip off the bandage?”

You crawl halfway up his body, smiling wider when he forgets to breathe. “Had to get the anxiety out of the way?” You brush a kiss over his chin, eyes catching on the curl of his horns. He’s moved so carefully that you’ve yet to feel the sharp points of them catching your skin, but if you sit on his face… You ignore Arroven’s disappointed sigh as you turn away to stroke the pad of your thumb over his right horn, wondering whether he has any feeling in them. They’re as ink dark as some of his scales and twisted in a lovely spiral that perfectly circles his pointed, gauged ears. Arroven isn’t reacting like he has sensation in them, though he reacts to every other little touch of you against his scales. “You’re going to have to help me balance,” you confess, sitting back against his middle. “Because even though they aren’t terribly sharp, I rather think I’ll be risking my thighs. Don’t you?”

Arroven stares, blinking, and then he looks horrified, which makes you wonder how long it’s been since he’s been close to a human, if ever.

“I’m not against this,” you add, grinning, “just to be clear.”

For a moment, all he says in response is a strangled sounding “Ah,” before he blinks again, glancing up at the ceiling. “I can... I will help. I’ll be careful. More than careful.”

It takes a few moments, and some adjustment, before you’re finally able to settle over his face. Your heart starts to pound a little faster when Arroven opens his mouth, those dagger-like teeth flashing in the dim light. His hands are strong though, curling around your thigh and bracing your hip. He’s too tall for you to do more than help balance against his chest, though you can see that he’s still wonderfully hard, and his cock is starting to leak. You’d love nothing more than to take him in hand, to taste him, but then Arroven nips your inner thigh, and you stop paying attention to his cock and start focusing on sensation. Your fingers curl at the first hot swipe of his tongue, pressing a little hard into the ventral scales over his chest, and the next slow lick has your eyes falling closed.

It’s not easy to stay steady, to keep your arms and legs from quivering the longer he licks and slurps. Arroven sucks small kisses over your thighs and the left cheek of your ass, his teeth only ever the barest pressure on your skin. His horns graze you, but he’s true to his word in keeping you balanced. The texture of them against your skin is just something more to feel, to enjoy as he tilts his head this way and that. Pleasure builds, faster by far than the magic that built in your veins, that left you aching with the need to come to the city. If that ache had been anything close to what you’re feeling now, warm, and slick, with the heady pressure of Arroven’s fingers on your skin, you would have picked up on the breadcrumb trail a lot sooner.

“You’re go- going to push me over the edge,” you warn with a gasp, legs starting to tremble. He moves you in response, starts to rock your hips so all he has to do is stick out his tongue, but your hands are shaking now too, cluing him into your urgency. Arroven shakes his head from side to side, a little wild, the plugs in his earlobes clattering against his horns with every shift. You bite down on your lower lip, orgasm rolling swiftly over you and nearly choke on the curse that wants to leave your mouth. He keeps you there, aching and weak, until you pat awkwardly at his chest, releasing you reluctantly with one last obscene noise of satisfaction.

You sit next to him, still a little unsteady and grin down at his pleased, messy face. “Now, unless you have any other lovely thoughts to share - your turn?”

His rough sounding “Please,” has your libido jumping back into overdrive, but it’s safety that has you slipping off the bed to dig out a bottle of lube from your things. He’s half pushed himself back up when you come back to the bed, resting on his elbows, fingers twisted gently into the blankets. His wings are partially stretched out now too, one of them reaching all the way to the end of your bed.

“Are your wings alright?” You ask, wondering if you should throw away the idea of climbing back into his lap, lube already pooling in the palm of your hand.

Arroven smiles again though, waving away your worry. “Tense,” he offers, as explanation. “I was more focused on you, but they’re good. I promise.” His cock bobs as you approach, and then he lays back down, irises vanishing into the ether of his pupils.

“If you promise, I suppose I’ll let it go.” You close the lube, only a bit ungracefully, and toss it to the side, climbing back onto the bed and straddling his thighs.

Your first wet squeeze of his cock has him whimpering, your hand barely fitting around him at his thinnest point. When you stroke, he bucks nearly unseating you until he claps his hands onto your thighs, muttering a hasty apology. Despite being tempted to laugh, you narrow your eyes, squeezing him just a little harder. “You don’t have to be still, but move a little slower for now, hm?”

“Of course,” he rushes to say, and then his jaw goes slack when you press him against you. “Oh,” he breathes, nails pricking your skin as you hold him in place. You rub yourself against his cock, up and back down, a slow undulation that makes you tense, still sensitive from your earlier orgasm.

And then you straighten, pressing the head of his cock into you. The first slow stretch of him inside you echoes the steady ache of magic, has your breath rushing from your lungs in a gasp. “Fuck,” you breathe and then glance at Arroven’s face. His head is tilted back, mouth open to reveal all of those sharp teeth, and his eyes are closed tight. You think he might be keeping himself from looking at you, might be trying to stem the urge to buck again, to move at all. You tilt your hips and press yourself down though, wiggling, and then Arroven is cursing. You don’t recognize the language, but you understand the sentiment behind it, the pleading tone that softens the edges of the words. It’s hard to concentrate, to keep yourself from getting distracted when all you want to do is sink down every inch of him and then just lay on his chest, trying to catch your breath. “Too much?” You manage to ask, but all Arroven does is shake his head and then carefully ease his grip on your thighs, stroking down to your knees and back up. Your legs, among other things, are definitely going to ache after this.

You ride Arroven until he’s a shaking, breathless mess, until he can’t help but tense his thighs every time he bottoms out, and you can barely stay up. You reach up, fingers just barely brushing his chin to make him pay attention. “Fuck me,” you command and his wings stretch to either side with force. You nearly scream when he starts fucking into you with purpose, and as lovely as your neighbors have been, you have the feeling they’re going to complain at some point. Every thrust has you tightening up on reflex, still shaky from your earlier orgasm, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself upright. A few moments later and Arroven arches as he comes inside you, clutching tightly to you until he’s finished, breath deep and rasping. You don’t wait. Carefully you flop down next to him, smiling tiredly against the blankets. You’re not sure your legs will carry you for the next hour or so, but it’s hardly something to complain about.

“Do you give all newcomers to the hoard such a.. Vigorous welcome?” You ask, laughing, your voice rough, not really expecting him to answer. Even though he’s clearly a little more comfortable, even though he’s been clinging to your skin and he looks wrecked by all the activity. Arroven nearly chokes.

“No,” he says immediately. “Moments like this,” he murmurs, reaching out for you, ventral scales on his palm smooth over the apple of your cheek, “moments like this are few and far between.” There’s a low rumble of noise from him when you roll close to brush another kiss over his lips, eyes fluttering closed. It’s all you can do not to laugh again, not to quote the poem at him or interrupt the soft moment. It still sits in the back of your mind though, sweet and lilting.

the city is hoarding hearts

it draws them in, with coin, with art

reflects their dreams on mirrored glass

sings siren songs to catch them fast

the lights?

they gleam, they glitter, bright

it steals a piece, with every sight

roots get worn

they split, they splinter

'but i'll keep you warm, in the depth of winter'

the city whispers, it cajoles, it cries

it'll sink it's talons into your thighs

it tears, it scrapes, it batters the unwary

but oh, the love it gifts, to those who tarry

the city promises, you'll be most adored

so can you, will you, join the hoard?

#exophilia #dragon boyfriend #dragon x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #d.darling writes

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pocketfulofrogers · 4 years

Text

Planes, Trains, and Firetrucks

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Reader

Summary: What’s a polar vortex to a desperate sister trying to get home? With a little determination and the luck of a stranger, you might just be able to pull off a Christmas miracle.

Notes: So I got drunk with my aunt and uncle on Thanksgiving and watched the only Thanksgiving movie to both exist and be quoted in it’s entirety by my whole family. I woke up with a google note that said ‘Planes, Trains, and Automobiles but make it a love story.’ Kinda wished I had payed more attention to the movie now.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to reign in your frustration. You had been all over this airport for the last six hours desperately searching for any way to get home. So far, you had only been strung along.

“Is there anything to Chicago at all? I’m just trying to be back for even a portion of Christmas. Seriously, at this point I’d saddle up a horse.”

The woman scrunches her nose as she scrolls through her computer, a sense of defeat looming over you until she smiles quickly. “I found a 5am to Detroit that connects…” She trails off and begins to frown again. “Just canceled.”

“Seriously?!” The word explodes from your mouth unwarranted and much louder than intended and your hand flies to your mouth in embarrassment.

Before you can begin to apologize profusely, you hear the man behind you mumble under his breath. “Probably because of the giant winter storm and white out conditions covering the entire North East.”

You whip your head behind to glare at him, but he’s too focused on his phone to even notice that you had overhead him. Defeated, you turn back around and quietly apologize before grabbing your phone and sulking away, the guy behind you chuckling slightly.

Mom: Your sister just got here, she’s so excited to see you!

Barely managing to suppress your groan, you lean against a nearby pillar to type a response that hopefully won’t break anyone’s hearts.

The man pockets his phone and approaches the counter. “Hi, can I get a hotel voucher?”

“We’re prioritizing vouchers for flying families and couples first.” She smiles.

“Really?” He groans, loud enough to grab your attention and hears your chuckle from what he assumes you think is karmic justice. But when he locks eyes with you, he gets an idea. “That is so kind of you guys!” He exclaims with a smile. “My wife will love that.”

In the middle of trying to explain to your mom that you couldn’t have left any early, chuckles steps up in front of you with a grin, holding up a pamphlet and you narrow your eyes. “Be my wife for a night, cow girl?”

You roll your eyes and walk away from his laughter and fake apologies, not stopping until he calls your name. “This?” You gesture between the two of you. “This is creepy.”

He holds up his hands before sliding the voucher in his dark jean jacket pocket. “They wouldn’t give me the voucher unless I put another name down so I just said you were my wife.” He shrugs his shoulder as if he can’t see the problem. “Now I can’t check in unless you’re there.”

You grab your bag and start walking again. “Not my problem.”

To your dismay, he keeps up with you. “We’ve been running around this place all day, so you have got to be at least a little tired.” You really were. “I let you use my charger.” He did do that, but it doesn’t seem to him that his small act of airport kindness has swayed you. “How about we get some sleep and then I promise I will help get you to Chicago?”

This causes you to pause again and look him up and down, almost hating yourself for even considering it. Those piercing blue eyes didn’t seem to hold any malice, nor did his small smile. He was charming, that much was obvious, but so was Ted Bundy.

You cock a hip to the side. “You could be a serial killer.”

The smirk he flashes makes you a little weak. “So could you.”

“Fine, but we’re stopping for pepper spray.”

Each time Kelly closes his eyes and feels his exhaustion begin to pull him under, he hears you curse under your breath. You had been obsessively scouring the internet looking for a hail mary, but each time you hit a wall.

He had given up somewhere between the last car dealership left in a 100-mile radius to endure your guilt trip and the proposition of hitch hiking. Honestly, he was more concerned than surprised when you seemed disappointed at him shooting down the idea.

Despite this budding friendship, you had offered no details of yourself, even when asked. You made another serial killer joke when he asked you why it was so important you get home, but he didn’t miss how guarded you became.

The next time you groan is when he also gives up the idea of any form of rest. Kelly sits up quick enough to see you throw yourself back into the creaky swivel chair.

“Is there a battery pack on you or something?” His voice is gravely, thick with exhaustion and just a hint of frustration.

You wince. “I know, I’m sorry. I just can’t believe that there’s not a single taxi or rental car available.”

“You could just buy a car.” He suggests it as an outlandish joke, but then your eyes light up.

“You’re a genius!”

Standing out in the middle of an alleyway, snow coating your hair, you can’t say your not a little nervous. Kelly is stood beside you despite very loudly voicing his opinion on how this was a terrible idea. Actually, that it was maybe the worst idea you’ve ever had.

“If anyone is going to be a serial killer, it’s going to be this guy.” He mumbles another remark, shifting his eyes to check your surroundings again.

You shoot a glare at him, but have to admit he’s probably right.

There wasn’t much in your bank account to spare, especially when you consider the price of a decent car. Craigslist offered one result in your price range within reasonable walking distance and you didn’t really stop to think it out.

Now you were in a barely lit backstreet leaking a smell you’d rather not name.

“You didn’t have to come.” You state, again.

He scoffs. “With your lack of self-preservation and this piece of shit that won’t make it out of the state? I won’t be responsible for you ending up on a milk carton.”

You want to comment that that’s not a thing anymore, but he had stuck by you for the last few hours and that’s more than you can usually expect from a stranger. “Aw, you care.” You reply instead.

It smells, terribly, but if you roll the windows down enough, you can hardly even notice. Wearing enough layers to not fell the cold is another story. You had expected Kelly to bail on you, insisting you wouldn’t blame him for running back to the warm comfort of clean sheets that weren’t his own, but again he shook his head.

He slept for the first six hours, grateful that you seemed to be a decent driver, but you tossed and turned in the back for about four before you climb back up front and ask to take over. There was only a little bit of gloating each time you passed through a city and grinned an ‘I told you so’ at him.

He doesn’t tell you, but he finds your giddiness contagious.

You don’t notice, but he keeps watching you whenever you’re not paying attention- intrigued by the woman who is actively going to hell and back just to get home. Matt told him he was insane, but there was something about you that he just couldn’t let go of.

He had watched you give up one of the only plane tickets left to a younger woman. Feeling touched as she cried in your arms. When you bought lunch for an unaccompanied minor and let her use up the entire battery life of your phone to watch a few movies, he knew he had to at least talk to you.

The only opener he had was a charger and it seemed to have been enough to get your trust.

“You know,” He starts, pulling his jacket tighter around him, hoping the rising sun would bring some form of warmth soon. He wasn’t hopeful. “I think I’ve earned a few questions.”

You glance at him and raise a brow. “Fine.”

“Are you always like this?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Your surprise makes you laugh.

“Prickly.” He clarifies.

“I’m not prickly, I’m stressed.” You defend yourself. “How are you not? Aren’t you trying to get home too, to see your family?”

He shrugs. “It’s out of my control, and the only family I have are people I get to see pretty regularly.” He smiles at you. “Guess I’m pretty lucky.”

“Well, it seems I’m definitely not.”

As if on cue, there’s a loud pop from the front of the car and it begins to sputter and smoke. Kelly is quick to calm you down and ease you into pulling off the road in the most soothing voice you think you may have ever heard.

Sitting on the side of the road, you only pick up your head from your knees when you hear a loud sigh and the hood slam shut. Kelly wipes the dark grease on his pants and gives you a solemn look.

“It’s toast.”

You let your head fall back onto your knees, not paying much attention to the encouraging words he tries to use to raise your spirits or the almost comforting hand on your shoulder, not even when they both disappear.

It isn’t until he’s grabbing the bags from the worst impulse buy of your life that you decide to check back in. “What are you doing?”

He points back to a semi-truck stopped not far behind with a smirk. “I told you I’m lucky.”

Your elbow bumps the trucker again and you pull you arms in closer to your body, try to scoot further away while being mindful of Kelly pressed close to you on your other side. Why you agreed to sit in the middle, you’ll only understand once you figured out why you agreed to this in the first place.

The man seemed nice enough, but it was two hours to the next city and you hadn’t slept in 36 hours.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do when we get there. Maybe find some wifi and look for our next ride?”

Kelly purses his lips. “How about we take an hour?”

“What are we supposed to in Dyersville on Christmas day?”

There’s a sparkle in his eyes when he smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

“Alright. This was a good idea.” You mumble around a mouthful of the burger you were trying to not inhale.

Somehow, Kelly had managed to convince a food truck to kick out one more order before packing up to get home. The smell hit you just as your hunger did and it didn’t take long for you to start stuffing your face.

He picks up his drink beside him on the bench and nods. “We needed this.”

“So bad.” You gush. You look around and finally feel like you can breathe again. “Maybe my luck’s turning. It’s a beautiful day, we’re so close, and this just might be the best burger I’ve ever had.”

He starts to laugh, but stops suddenly when he looks past your head. Before he can even react, the man he had been eying grabs your purse and takes off, Kelly quick on his heels. You yell after him, almost taking off too, but then his feet catch a patch of ice.

He goes down, hard and you rush to his side.

“Kelly? Kelly are you okay?” He’s touched by your concern, but he doesn’t have the breath in his lungs to convey it.

“Fine.” He grunts out.

“You folks alright?” A man with peppered hair and a thick grey mustache approaches behind you in a white button up. “We were just fixing our lights outside when we saw what happened. We’ve got two EMTs grabbing their bags if you’ll just stay where you are, son.”

Kelly waves him off, calling him chief, and tries to sit up. “Guy got her bag.”

You shush him and quickly help him up. “There’s nothing in there that can’t be replaced.” You assure him.

“Holy shit, is that Kelly Severide?” A woman calls out from across the street before jogging over. “Can’t wait to let the boys know that the great Lieutenant got played by a kid.”

Kelly chuckles at your confusion as he wipes his dirt covered hands on his jeans. “Gomez, nice to see you again.”

“You know each other?” You ask.

Gomez nods. “Lieutenant Severide here held a rope rescue training, whipped us all into shape. What brings you back here?”

Kelly sighs, adding a voice to the very rough time the last 20 hours had been. “Got snowed in just outside of Seattle. This one,” He points over to you and raises a brow. “Just had to get home and dragged me on and insane trip.”

Your jaw drops. “Dragged? You definitely refused to leave.”

“Only because I whole heartedly believed you’d get yourself killed.” He winks at you and you can’t suppress your smile.

The chief contemplates for a moment before offering up an old battalion car to get you through the final stretch. Kelly looks to you, smile beaming and makes another comment about his impeccable luck.

“So, you’re a firefighter.” You begin when the silence becomes a little too thick. “Is that why you were in Washington?”

Kelly nods. “Small city fire departments don’t have the resources we do. I try to go to a few a year to teach them how to use the stuff they have for difficult rescues.”

“Wow…” You trail off.

“You can’t ask me that question and not answer it for yourself.”

Rolling your eyes, you have to agree. “I was there for an interview. Some doctors there created a revolutionary treatment, and I was able to witness one of the surgeries.”

“Must be important for you to give up your Christmas Eve.”

You shrug. “My sister got really sick a few years ago. She’s okay now, but we weren’t able to see her for a really long time. Doctors saved her life and this could save someone else’s. It’s important information.”

“That’s why you wanted to get back?”

The moment becomes a little too heavy, but you manage a sad smile before you feel compelled to look out the window. “It’s her first Christmas since, it’ll be the first time I’ve seen her.”

He grabs your hand and your attention after a moment of silence and his stare is intense. “We’ll be there soon.” He assures you.

12 hours into shift and Matt Casey is as bored as he’s ever been on a Christmas. No calls, no Christmas spirit, and most importantly Christmas dinner was a bust. So, when Severide open his office door, covered in dirt and oil and grime, he was intrigued at least.

“You look like hell.”

Kelly rolls his eyes. “I need to borrow your truck to take Y/N home.”

Casey’s eyes widen. “She’s here?”

Kelly isn’t sure why he seems so excited until he hears him grab almost the entire firehouse to lead them to the floor. To you. Despite his protests, Gabby is positively thrilled. You however, surprisingly, are not overwhelmed by all the greetings and hugs. The environment is so warm and welcoming that you can’t help but slide right into conversations.

“She is gorgeous.” Gabby tries to keep it to a whisper. “Your texts do not do her justice.”

Kelly nods, well aware that just a few words typed while you were focused on the road could never be enough to describe how incredible he believed you to be.

“This isn’t it, right? You’ve got to see her again.” Joe butts his head between Kelly and Gabby. “We already like her.”

The drive to your house is quiet, somber. Not a single sound besides tires crunching through packed snow. There’re so many questions you have unanswered based solely on the fact that you don’t know how to ask them. Staring out into the night sky to watch the snow fall is no longer enough to comfort you.

It isn’t until he pulls up and puts the truck in park that you start to feel the pit in your stomach become overwhelming. You’re worried you’ll never see him again. Worried that the past day will be the final one and that thought is terrifying.

“Stay.” You blurt out.

He’s caught off guard by your request, but still smiles. “My family is back at the station and this is too important for you to be worrying about your parents meeting me.”

Your nod acknowledges that he’s right, but your eyes convey your sadness. “Merry Christmas, Kelly.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“I cannot believe you just let her go!” Matt walks in on Gabby yelling. “You liked that girl, she invited you in, and you left?!” She’s pacing back and forth in front of a freshly showered Kelly. He looks like a puppy in trouble and Matt’s smart enough to know not to butt in.

“That was not a first impression I wanted to make.” He tries to defend himself.

Gabby turns to Matt, exasperated, and he raises his hands.

As if someone were listening to his silent prayers, Capp comes in to tell Kelly that he had a visitor on the floor. His heart began to race, filling with hope that maybe, just maybe…

He rounds the corner and there you are, dressed up with a delicate smile. For a moment he’s breathless, the only thing he wanted to see. He wants to open with something witty, but you beat him to it when you hand him a tupperware container, stepping close enough that he can smell the light layer of perfume you’re wearing.

“This is to thank you for letting me drag you and your luck all over the northern states.”

He laughs. “I believe it was me that refused to leave.”

“And I probably would’ve made the national news for being missing if you hadn’t.” Your smirk makes his heart skip a beat. “You know milk cartons aren’t a thing anymore, right?”

He laughs. “Well, how am I supposed to thank you for pretending to be my wife?” You laugh until you realize he’s being serious. “How about dinner tomorrow night?”

“I would love that.”

When he leans down slowly and presses his lips to yours, you have to laugh at the cheers that erupt from the background.

#kelly severide x reader #Kelly Severide #Chicago Fire #chicago fire imagine #kelly severide imagine #kelly serveride fanfiction #matt casey #gabby dawson #christmas

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

for the meet uglies, sternclay 60 sfw? OwO

Here you go!

60 Sterncly SFW. we’re both on a reality show (like the queer bachelor) where we’re told to be friends but the first time we met, you were incredibly rude and judgmental and I don’t know if I can do this for the damn cameras

“So, Barclay, now that we’re a few days in, what’s your impression of the other contestants?”

“They, uh, they all seem like great guys. We come from a lot of different backgrounds, so that’s kind of interesting to be around but, uh, I live in a place that’s like a big, chosen family, so being in a house with a bunch of types of personalities is kinda, uh, homey.”

“There’s no one you think you’ll struggle with?”

“Uh. Well. I, uh, I don’t like Joseph too much. He came in and he’s so, like, phony from all the years in the FBI. It’s like he’s trying to be polite and charming but really he thinks we’re all idiots for being here. Which, like, buddy, last I checked you signed up for this the same as the rest of us.”

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

“Joseph, any worries about the other contestants?”

“No. I mean, we’re competitors on a dating show, not enemies. I think we’re all trying to show Vincent the best versions of ourselves.”

“There’s no one you’ve had conflicts with?”

“........I, um, Barclay and I got into a small argument earlier about the house rules. But I’m sure if we both stick around long enough we’ll come to an understanding.”

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

“Gentlemen, this cannot continue.” Ned, the producer, sits on the couch across from them. Barclay glares at Joseph, but the other man keeps a cool demeanor. Great, he’s making Barclay look like the big, angry mountain even off camera.

“I thought reality shows needed conflict to thrive.” Joseph cocks an eyebrow.

“They do, but about big things, like love and rivalry. Not how to properly load a dishwasher.”

“I’m just trying to be efficient.”

“My way is perfectly fine.” Barclay snaps, “jesus, I worked in kitchens for years, I know how to get clean plates.”

“That doesn’t make it optimal.”

“Do you have to be right about everything?”

“Gentlemen, you recall we have a housekeeping staff, right?”

“It doesn’t matter” Barclay doesn’t take his eyes off Ned, “we’re supposed to all get along, not all try and prove we’re the smartest guy in the room.”

“See, this is your problem, you need everyone to like you, to see you like a big brother, but you’re missing the fact that at least three of them have decided your gentle giant persona is a threat and they’re trying to oust you.”

“It’s not a persona, it’s just how I am. We aren’t all government shams disguised as men.”

Joseph’s facade cracks for a moment, blue eyes trying to light Barclay on fire.

“Enough.” Ned shakes his head, “you may despise each other as much as you please behind the scenes. In front of the cameras, please try to act as if you’re not ten seconds away from coming to blows. Agreed?”

They trade a final, furious look.

“Agreed.”

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

They’re a little over three weeks in; Vincent is still doing lots and lots of short, individual dates between the group outings, so the contestants have ample time to hang around the house and get on each others nerves.

Case in point: Joseph was right when he warned Barclay that others saw him as a threat. Chad, Alex, Nico, and Rich have all decided to go after him. Just this morning he’s been told he’s not man enough for Vincent (he shooed a wolf spider out of the kitchen with a broom instead of squishing it), too girly (he offered to make cupcakes if people wanted), and too big (who'd want to fuck a six foot tall puppy).

His mood is not helped by Joseph chatting away on the couch about his former job with the FBI. Barclay swears it’s all the asshole knows how to talk about. Maybe it’s time for Barclay to play a game of his own.

“Hey, Joseph.”

The other man turns, black hair perfectly slicked back like he thinks he’s some kind of movie star.

“I bet you ten bucks you can’t make it until eight tonight without talking about your job.”

The other contestants in the room snicker, several even giving Barclay a thumbs up.

Joseph adjusts his shirt sleeves, “You’re on.”

Ten hours later, Barclay is forced to get his wallet. The other man never mentioned the FBI once. In fact, he did Barclay an even bigger favor; he didn’t talk at all.

He finds the agent sitting on the back steps leading into the garden. Stays standing as he holds out the cash, “you win fair and square.”

Joseph looks at the money, then looks away, “I did it to show I could, not for the bet.”

“I mean, you didn’t have to go, uh, quite so hard on the silence thing.”

“I didn’t mean to. But, um, every time I was going to open my mouth, I realized it was somehow related to work. So I kept quiet.” He sighs, stretches out his legs. He’s in slacks, because of course he is, “I must have been so tedious to listen to, no wonder I was driving you up the wall.”

“Joseph-”

“I really am married to my career. I guess it’s not surprising my last chance for love is on a T.V show.”

“Hey, I get it.” Barclay sits down next to him, “when I was first working in commercial kitchens my hours were crazy; I barely saw my apartment, my friends, my boyfriend who pretty quickly became my ex. But it was what I needed to do to build the career I wanted for myself. To do what I loved.”

Only the crickets and the distant waves reply. Then, “You said you were a private chef now, right? Along with writing cookbooks?”

“Yeah. Kinda surprised you remembered.”

“Listening is a major skill in my profession. Besides, it’s polite to pay attention to what people tell you.”

“What’s your job now? You only ever talk about the FBI stuff?”

“Paranormal investigation. I never bring it up because people assume I’m out chasing Bigfoot with a shaky-cam or trying to communicate with haunted dolls.”

“So...what is it instead?”

“Helping people figure out they’re homes aren’t haunted or the monster on their property is just some owls. I like the challenge of solving the mystery, and I like helping people feel safe in they’re homes.”

Loud voices form inside; the caterers must have refilled the bar. He doesn’t really want to go in. It’s too nice out here.

“You wanna hear about the restaurant my coworkers swore was haunted?”

Joseph perks up, turning to face him, “Yes, please.”

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

He’d been really looking forward to beach day. Six guys are already gone, and Vincent has taken his fleet of suitors to the sunny San Diego shores. Barclay is dismayed to find all but three of the other guys have waxed their chests. Joseph hasn’t, but his happy trail is nothing compared to fucking black forest on Barclays torso. Nico’s gotten half the guys to call Barclay “bigfoot.”It makes him feel like he’s back in high school P.E freshman year, and his body image is rapidly sliding into that of a shy fourteen year old.

“Barclay!” Joseph comes jogging out of the surf towards the towels they lay down side by side when they arrived, “you should come in, it’s really the perfect weather for swimming.” He drops onto his towel, black hair a bit mussed. The swim-shorts that he thought were blue with green spots turn out to have not dots, but tiny UFOs on them.

“I, uh, I’m good. I, uh, I burn easily and I don’t think anyone wants to rub sunscreen on my hairy back.”

“Hey, Bigfoot, what’s wrong? Scared of what’ll happen if the cameras get a load of your gut?”

Barclay growls, stares at his toes. Joseph tracks Nico as he finishes jogging by. Then he calmly picks up a frisbee, aims a throw, and knocks his snapback off his head. He’s sitting down before the other man can work out who threw it. Barclay chuckles, but doesn’t get up.

“Bigfoot’s my favorite cryptid.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“And who gives a shit if you have a stomach.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re cut.”

Joseph grabs his sunglasses, “because I like that for my body. I happen to like yours just as much. Um I, I mean, it seems like Vincent likes it.” He tips his head towards the Bachelor, who gives them both a long once-over.

“...Will you do my back?”

“Of course, big guy.” The nickname sounds so right on his tongue it makes Barclay want to set his head in his lap and ask him to pet it.

It’s late afternoon when Ned herds them all onto a boat which promptly steers towards some cliffs. Joseph stays close to Barclay, pleasant expression noticeably tightening the closer they get to the rocks.

“I’ve been dreading this. Cliff diving is not something I’d pick to do on my own.”

“Heights?”

He shakes his head, “Deep water. I know it’s not rational, and I even checked to be sure there hadn’t been large shark sightings in the area, but I can never shake the feeling there’s something waiting just out of sight, ready to surge up and eat me.”

They all climb up together, Vincent staying on the boat to watch them jump (this is technically a friendly competition to show off how brave they are). As they’re turns get closer, Barclay sees Joseph doing deep breathing exercises.

They hit the edge. The agent freezes.

“Shit. I don’t think I can do this.”

“C’mon, where’s my daring special agent?”

Joseph still doesn’t move.

“You, uh, you wanna jump together? Maybe the megaladon or whatever will eat me instead.”

“Megalodons are extinct; we’d know if they weren’t, same as we know Whale Sharks aren’t.”

“They you are.” Barclay murmurs, smiling.

Joseph manages a smile back, “On three?”

“Yep. One, two” he grabs Joseph’s hand “three”

The water rises to swallow them with terrifying speed, but nothing is waiting for them except one very startled fish. They surface together, Joseph laughing triumphantly, hair plaster to his head and sun shining in his ocean eyes.

If Vincent doesn’t pick him, he’s out of his mind.

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

“Ohmylord, we have to play this.” Joseph cannot believe his luck; he figured the barcade group date would mean a lot of solo time, but here’s his favorite game in the whole wide world.

“Monster Hunt?” Barclay laughs as he lets himself be lovingly shoved down into the seat of a cut-out Jeep, “very on brand.”

“They had this at the bowling alley near my house. I’d play when my parents had league night but couldn't get a sitter. I never could beat the Mothman level without a player two.”

He doesn’t have that problem tonight, even with Barclay distractingly delighted and handsome in the seat beside him. After that, they make it their mission to find every two-player game in the thrum of flashing colors and tinny music. He finds they both like the Bowser Bourbon Smash, and somewhere around their fourth, heated game of air hockey they each polish of one too many of them to stay upright without the support of a game, a helpful show staff member, or each other.

When they get back to the house (their fellow contestants all in a similar state to themselves) they manage to make it to Joseph’s room before collapsing into a giggling heap on the bed.

“That, hic, that was fun. Games are, hic, fun.” Barclay blinks at him, “what’re you laughing, hic, at.”

“You, you got the hiccups. S’funny because you’re so big, like, like watching a, a pitbull with a, um, a” he makes a squeezing motion that his sober self would recognize as “squeaky toy.”

“M’not big” Barclay pouts, “I, hic, maybe everyone else is, hic, just small. Ever think of th--hic--at.”

“S’not a bad thing.” Joseph shifts so they’re facing each other, “like how big you are. Makes you sexy.”

Barclay blushes, “you’re, hic, one to, to talk. You’re hot, so, hic, so fucking out. Got, got those eyes. That, hic, that face” He touches Joseph’s cheek, “love your face.”

“Love yours too.” Joseph says, stroking his beard. Then they’re moving in inelegant tandem, grabbing at each others shoulders and faces as their mouths find each other. Barclay is so warm, whimpering when Joseph rolls him on top, nipping his lips and pawing at him like a puppy hoping for a treat. Joseph is going to hold him close and let him have it.

A clatter from below, one of the other men knocking something over in the kitchen, breaks the spell.

“Wait, wait” Joseph reluctantly slides his hands of Barclays ass, “we, drunk, we’re drunk, too drunk.”

Barclay blinks down at him, pouting a little even as he groans “fuck, you’re, you’re right. Wanna, gotta remember this. Don’t wanna” he yawns, “regret it.” The instant he flops onto his back Joseph climbs into his arms and falls asleep to the slow rhythm of his breathing.

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

After that night, they agree to be more careful; they’re here for Vincent, to see if one of them is his true love. That’s what the contract they signed says.

“More careful” turns out to mean watching their alcohol intake around each other and only touching platonically (including falling asleep on the couch together. They wake up to cameras recording their nap. Barclay isn’t sure what Joseph threatens Ned with, but the footage never sees the light of day).

But unless they’re on a solo date with Vincent, they’re by each others side. Barclay teaches Joseph dominoes and how to make biscuits. Joseph introduces him to terrible old horror movies that they watch on his laptop and compliments his cooking every chance he gets.

They must be doing something right, because they move to the next round week after week, Vincent clearly enamored with both of them. Barclay certainly understands the feeling. Just not for the person who he’s supposed to.

“Joseph? If, uh, if neither of us win, what are you gonna do after this.”

“Go back to work. Maybe pitch my book about U.S cryptids.” Joseph’s smile goes shy for a moment before recovering, “but I wouldn’t worry, big guy; I think you’re the front runner for sure.”

Barclay knows for a fact that Joseph is a fan favorite and the suitor most people think will win. Which is why, when Vincent selects his final four, he’s not surprised Joseph gets the first rose. Then everyone but Barclay is holding one and Vincent is touching his shoulder.

“Barclay, please don’t take this as a sign I’m not deeply fond of you. This wasn’t an easy choice but I, well, I feel like your heart may not be in this anymore.”

He takes Vincent’s hand and squeezes it, “It’s okay. It was wonderful just to get to know you. All of you.” He looks at the final four, at Joseph’s calm, polite expression. He meets blue eyes as he says, “I hope you find someone who makes you happy.”

With that he turns, all too aware of the cameras tracking his exit, his face, how he’ll have to do a final interview and not reveal that he’ll hate Vincent forever but not blame him in the slightest if he marries Joseph.

“Wait!”

Every eye, lensed or no, turns back to the gazebo. Joseph is at the edge of the steps, poised to run. When he sees Barclay stop, he turns to Vincent.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this.” He hands the bachelor the rose, “I hope you understand.”

There’s no soundtrack on set, but strings swell in his ears all the same as Joseph descends the stairs and leaps into his arms, kissing him so hard he still has stars in his eyes when he opens them.

“It’s not a marriage proposal” Joseph whispers, kissing his cheek, “but I do have a question for you.” He pulls back, all cameras on them but his attention for Barclay alone, “would you like to be my boyfriend, big guy?”

Barclay rests their foreheads together, “Yeah, babe, I really, really would.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #meet ugly #bachelor au #taz amnesty

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holycatsandrabbits · 3 years

Text

Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 3

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Chapter 3

1996 (Three years later)

Liam got a letter in the mail that morning, another one, from New York this time. Liam didn’t know anyone in New York who would send this kind of letter. In any case, they were all from the same person, no matter the constantly changing postmark, and they all said the same hateful, frightening things.

Liam had just tossed this one into the drawer with the others when Kurt appeared out of nowhere, as only he could. Liam had done a bit of research on vampires in the three years he’d known Kurt (as much study as he could on something that was supposed to be fictional), and teleportation was not a common vampire ability. But then Kurt was not a common vampire.

“Morning,” Kurt said, dropping into a kitchen chair. He looked a bit bed-rumpled, but Liam honestly wasn’t sure whether it was because Kurt had been sleeping or because Kurt thought that humans should look bed-rumpled in the morning. “Been for your run yet?” Kurt asked.

“I was just getting ready to go.”

“Want company?”

“You’re not dressed for it,” Liam pointed out, waving a hand at Kurt’s blue jeans, and that caused Kurt to vanish again. Liam was lacing his shoes when Kurt reappeared, this time wearing athletic shorts and, crucially, no shirt. Liam’s fingers tripped over themselves and got tangled in his shoelaces like clumsy people with jump ropes.

Liam had seen Kurt without his shirt on occasionally over the last three years, most memorably when Kurt had shown Liam the scars he still carried from the earliest thing he remembered— a Bronze Age battle. There was a scar above his heart and two on his left shoulder, the marks of flint arrowheads, presumably the wounds that caused his death.

But that was not what caught Liam’s attention when Kurt was shirtless. Kurt had the build of a fighter: a slender waist, sturdy legs, broad shoulders and strong arms. His chest was smoothly muscled around the scars. Meanwhile Liam had the body of a thirty-year-old history professor who went for a run most mornings, but also had a fondness for rocky road ice cream.

Liam wasn’t sure if Kurt knew about the threatening letters. He was also not sure if Kurt knew how fervently Liam desired him. If he was aware of either, or, most importantly, felt any desire in return, he had never said. And while Liam was sorting out the shoelace mess, Kurt pulled on a shirt, so the distraction passed.

The morning was cool, with fog still gathering around the trees. While they ran, Kurt told Liam about a morning in 1914 outside of Ypres, when snow had fallen silently, covering fallen leaves and fallen soldiers alike.

Liam had learned by now that Kurt did not feel the cold. It must have been obvious during a winter campaign, when Kurt’s fingers did not stiffen with frostbite, or his toes blister with trench foot. Sometimes, Kurt had told him, his fellow soldiers thought of him as an indestructible good luck charm. Sometimes they looked on the only member of their group to emerge from a battle unscathed and called him a demon.

A countless number of Kurt’s stories ended with him holding a fellow soldier as he succumbed to injury and passed out of this world.

When they turned back onto Liam’s street, there was a blue car in Liam’s driveway that belonged to one of Liam’s students, Martina. She was standing beside the car, waving at them. Of course, she wasn’t there to see Liam.

When Liam got out of the shower fifteen minutes later, he was surprised to see Kurt in the kitchen alone, drinking the coffee that Liam kept on hand for him. Coffee and water were the only things Liam had ever seen Kurt eat or drink. “Martina didn’t stay?” Liam asked.

“No. She was just returning my jacket.” Kurt looked melancholy for a moment, a brief flash across his features before it faded back into his usual somewhat detached expression. “She met someone else. He’s moving in.”

Liam looked at him in shock. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Kurt shook his head. “I’m happy for her. She’s about to graduate anyway, so we were going to break it off.”

Martina was not the first of Liam’s students that Kurt had dated. Kurt was very good about it, really. The students he chose were from the graduate program, so all in their mid-twenties or older, and they’d all known what Kurt was. They’d chosen to be a part of his life for a while, providing him with companionship, and, though they didn’t usually state it so plainly, with blood.

“I don’t get attached,” Kurt said. “And I pick those who won’t get attached to me. I don’t have the patience for a line of angry exes. Better to be with those who will part as friends.”

“Have you ever been wrong?” Liam asked. He didn’t look at Kurt, carefully focusing on the toaster and butter dish.

“Accidentally broken someone’s heart, you mean?” Kurt asked. “Or lost my own?”

“Either.”

“Not in a long time.”

“Ah.” Liam buttered his toast with perhaps more force than was called for.

“I investigated him, though. Martina’s new boyfriend. His name is Devon.”

“Investigated,” Liam repeated. He sat down at the table opposite Kurt, accepting the cup of coffee Kurt passed to him.

“He seems like a very nice man. And he loves her.”

“So you read his mind.”

“I can’t read minds.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

Kurt looked amused. “I know. But not because I read your mind. In any case, Martina is my friend. She’s under my protection. And so are you.”

This last part was said gently, but Liam caught its meaning as overtly as he was meant to. He let out a groan and pushed away what was left of his toast. “How long have you known?”

“Long enough. The letters are mailed from around the country, but I am almost certain the sender is local. He probably travels a lot, and also has other people mail the letters without knowing what’s in them.”

“That’s what the police think. They also think they’re not serious.”

Kurt seemed immensely unimpressed by this opinion. “So did you do something that some bastard holds a grudge for? Murder his wife? Steal his parking space? Or do you think it’s because you’re gay?”

Liam’s sexuality was not something that had come up in conversation before, so Liam was a bit startled to hear it accurately described. “I have no idea,” he said. “I certainly don’t recall murdering anyone.”

“I’ve looked over the letters. No fingerprints, and I can’t find anything distinctive about the printer he uses.” When Kurt got emotional, he wore it strangely, as if he could be both agitated and unaffected at the same time. Right now his green eyes were bright and his mouth tight. His fingers curled sharply around his coffee cup, blanching white where they gripped too hard. But the rest of his body was still relaxed in the chair, stretched into the sort of lazy pretzel shape that sore legs often took after a run. Liam sometimes wondered what Kurt would be like if he stopped trying so hard to seem human.

“They’re not serious,” Liam told him.

“I’m not convinced of that. You really don’t have suspects?”

Liam shrugged. “Nobody in particular.”

“Ex-lovers?”

Liam focused on his coffee. “I haven’t had one of those for some time.”

“Family?”

“It’s just my sister and me, and we get along fine as long as she can pretend I’m not gay.”

Kurt’s fingers clenched around the coffee cup again. “This is a very intolerant period of history.”

Liam laughed, not unkindly. “It is all history to you, isn’t it? This is just another era to walk through. How odd to—”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Colleagues?”

“I’ve never had any problems. Anyway, the letters are all anti-university. Anti-technology. Unabomber-type stuff.”

“I’m not sure I trust the subject matter. Why send anti-technology missives to a history professor? It still feels personal to me. The one you got today talks about kidnapping you, Liam. That’s a very intimate threat.”

Liam groaned. “How the hell—”

“I read it while you were in the shower.” Kurt did look a little regretful, at least. “Look, I know you don’t like me being all— the way I am—”

“If I minded the vampire stuff, I’d never have agreed to work with you. What I object to is your being sneaky and intrusive on an entirely human level.”

Kurt seemed surprised, which was not a common look on him. He stared at Liam for a moment before saying, “Well, I object to being kept in the dark about your safety.”

“Kurt—”

They were interrupted by the ding noise that Liam’s computer made when he received an email. Normally Liam might ignore it, but at the moment, he welcomed the distraction.

The email was from a colleague in Germany, and as Liam read it, he forgot all about their argument. “Kurt,” he said, in an entirely different tone than the one he’d just used. Kurt was behind him in an instant, moving with that silent speed he had.

Liam traced his finger across the screen, aware that he wasn’t supposed to do that, but he hadn’t quite yet learned not to treat emails like they were pieces of paper. “Look at this. Someone found an arm bone with a flint arrowhead in the bank of the Tollense River in Germany. It’s not— it’s not a giant battle, not yet, just with one body, but it’s the right place, the right time. My colleague thinks this could be what we were looking for, and I think he’s right. Your earliest memory. Your origin. It could be Tollense.”

Kurt had knelt down so that he could read the screen more easily. When he turned his head it brought his mouth so very close to Liam’s. “You did it,” he said softly. “You found it.”

“Well, I didn’t find anything. Someone else—”

“But you put your neck on the line, theorizing about a battle in a time and place no one expected.”

“It’s not like I don’t have eye-witness evidence.”

“But no one knows that. You’ve endured a lot of controversy, trying to help me.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that. I care about—” Liam cut himself off before he could say it.

Kurt seemed to hear it anyway, because he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Liam’s.

It was a light kiss only for a few seconds, until Liam made an intensely hungry noise and Kurt responded to it, bringing his hands up around Liam’s face to hold him steady. Kurt deepened the kiss, sweeping into Liam’s open mouth with his tongue.

Liam had thought about a kiss like this, thorough and overwhelming, fantasized about it, wondered if it might happen someday because Kurt would read his mind and know how much Liam wanted it. But Liam was suddenly sure in that moment that Kurt could not read minds, or at least, that he’d left Liam’s to its secrets. If he had read it, he would have known not to kiss Liam. Because unlike the students Kurt sought out, Liam was already attached, far too much, to this utterly alien man who kissed with a technique undoubtedly honed over millennia, ranging from soft to strong all in a single lick of his tongue, instinctively knowing which parts of Liam’s mouth were most sensitive, and all with a kindness Liam had never before felt.

It was the kindness that made Liam put his hands up and push Kurt gently away. Liam didn’t want kindness at that moment, didn’t want Kurt offering this kiss out of gratitude or friendship, or because Kurt knew Liam was attracted to men and would probably enjoy it. Even because he was worried about Liam’s safety. Kurt was three thousand years old, and he’d no doubt live for many thousands of years after this. Liam’s lifespan was a drop of water in the river of Kurt’s life. Kurt had said it just this morning— he would never allow himself to get attached.

After the kiss broke, Kurt looked at Liam searchingly for a moment, and then moved away.

“We should— we should visit Germany,” Liam managed to say. Kurt just nodded.

************

The battle of Tollense is a real thing! Here is the wikipedia and another article.

************

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Updates Fridays on Ao3 and DannyeChase.com (rated E), and Tumblr (rated T)

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

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#Dannye writes #original fiction #serial fiction #tollense #vampires #romance

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