#it’s nearly 4500 words now

[feverdreamsandlucidnightmares]

Jeanneil friendship WIP my beloved (I wrote 1400 words tonight)

[nahoney22]

Congrats on the 4500 followers, Honey 🥳

Can I request a Fives x Fem!Reader fic with fluff prompts #7 and #22? With a, they're in an established relationship, but they're not living together yet, kind of vibe?

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Just for Tonight 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Fives X Female!Reader

word count: 827 words

prompts:

• “You don't have to leave just yet ... you could stay the night if you wanted to?”

• “You’re comfy.”

When Fives comes to visit, the two of you imagine what life after the war would be like together.

warnings: Safe for Work, Fluff, Established Relationship, Cuddling, Kisses, Female Reader, Discussions about life after the war, talks of the future. Very light angst if you squint.

Authors note: sorry for the wait @the-bad-batch-baroness, enjoy 🩵

Tonight, the usual quiet of your apartment was interrupted by the sizzling sounds and savory smells wafting from your tiny kitchen.

You leaned against the doorway, watching in quiet amusement as Fives, your better half of the last year, moved about with surprising ease in the unfamiliar space of your kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder with a playful smirk. “Stop staring, you’re making me nervous.”

You giggle, crossing your arms. “You know, I didn’t expect you to surprise me by cooking?”

“I figured I’d show off my skills. You deserve a break from takeout.” He teased, flipping something in the pan with a bit more flair than necessary.

The meal was simple, nothing too fancy which was just how you liked it. But the effort he put into it, the way he made himself at home in your space, made your heart swell. As he finishes up, you set the table and pretend not to notice how he stole glances at you every now and then.

Once the food was ready, he set down two plates and pulled out a chair for you with an exaggerated bow. “Dinner is served, milady,” he said with a wink, his charm in full force.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as you sat down. “You really didn’t have to do all this, Fives.”

“I wanted to,” he replied, sitting across from you. “I don’t get to see you nearly as much as I’d like. Figured I’d make tonight special.”

The meal was delicious. You never realised he had the skill for it and you wouldn’t mind him coming over and cooking for you again. Conversation flowed easily as always, from light banter to deeper musings about what life might look like after the war. And as the evening stretched on, the familiar ache of knowing he’d have to leave soon crept into your thoughts.

When the plates were cleared and the kitchen tidied, the two of you found yourselves on the couch, with Fives stretched out beside you, his head resting lazily in your lap. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair, savouring the rare moment of peace. He sighed contentedly, eyes half-lidded with the kind of serenity that seemed so rare in his life these days. “You look like you’re going to fall to sleep any second,” you hum.

“You’re comfy,” he mumbled with a sleepy grin, his voice rough from fatigue but tinged with a warmth.

You couldn’t help but smile. Moments like these were often stolen from the chaos of the Clone war. And so, they were more precious to you than anything. You glance at the clock on your wall, seeing the minutes that follow into hours tick by. Your chest tightened knowing he will soon have to leave and it seemed he knew it too as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You don’t have to leave just yet,” you offer softly, “You could stay the night if you wanted to.”

Fives’ eyes search yours as if weighing the suggestion carefully. The war had taught him to stay alert, to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, but in your apartment, he could let his guard down—if only for a little while. “You sure?” he asked, though there was a hint of something playful in his tone, like he was testing how much you really wanted him there.

“Of course I’m sure,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “Besides, it’s nice having you here.”

He shifted slightly, moving so that he was propped up on one elbow, his free hand tracing small circles on your knee. “You know, when all this is over,” he said, his voice dropping to something more serious, more vulnerable, “we won’t have to sneak around like this anymore. We’ll get our own place—somewhere quiet. Just us.”

The promise hung in the air between you, a fragile hope for a future that was anything but certain. But the way he said it, with so much conviction, made you want to believe in it, too. You could picture it: a small home, somewhere far from here, where you wouldn’t have to keep your time together a secret, where he wouldn’t have to leave before dawn broke.

“I’d like that.”

Fives’ gaze softened as he leaned in closer, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead and then to your lips. “It’s a promise,” he murmured, sealing it.

You lay down, Fives coming to spoon behind you, both of you too stuffed and tired to move to the bed. After all, you just wanted to savour the warmth and comfort he brought with him. “Stay,” you said again, this time with more confidence as you locked your hands over his that rested on your stomach. “Just for tonight.”

“Alright,” he agreed, pulling you closer, the tension melting from his body. “For tonight.”

Hopefully, this ‘just for tonight’ will turn into an everyday reality. One day.

🌊 Masterlist is Pinned 🌊

Tags: @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 1 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 7 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani

[callalillywrites]

His Dream Come True

Another older work that I'm reposting. It's actually been updated with an expanded ending and some other revisions/edits.

If I'm not mistaken, this was my first Jake Jensen piece when I first wrote it, and it's going to be my first Jake Jensen piece being put back here on this blog. So there you go.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x F!Reader

Word Count: ~4500

Summary: Jake learns that you're engaged to another and believes he's lost his chance. When he heads home, he soon finds himself running into you over and over again. In the end, he might get the chance he's always wanted but never took until it was too late.

Warnings: friends-to-lovers; Jake was thought to be dead at one point; insecure Jake; heartbroken Jake; missed opportunities; happy ending; broken engagement; love confessions

A/N: This story was inspired by Marry Me by Thomas Rhett and is a follow-up to this Steve fic though you could potentially read it as a standalone as well.

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

The fancy envelope rested heavily in Jake’s hands.

He didn’t need to open it to know what it contained.

You’d found someone else.

He’d known that would happen eventually, and he couldn’t even blame you. It wasn’t your fault he’d always been too much a chickenshit to tell you how he felt.

That doesn’t stop him from begging Clay to let him leave their latest mission early.

He needed to see you. Even if it was just to say goodbye to you and wish you well, then that would be enough. It would have to be.

As much as he might’ve wanted to stand in front of you and bare his soul to you, he knew he couldn’t do that if you’d found your true love. He couldn’t be that selfish. Not with you.

He kept that promise as he walked into your parents’ home for your engagement party.

You were easy to spot the moment he stepped inside the familiar living room. It was the room where you and he would spend hours playing when he wasn’t dragging you outside. It’s the same room where you would show him all the ideas you had about a perfect wedding. You would even go on to play it out with your many stuffies and have him play your groom every so often.

Oh, how he wished he’d known he would come to relive those moments more often later on. He wouldn’t have pushed you away a few times or scrubbed your kisses from his cheeks.

If he could go back, it wouldn’t be to his youngest self but to his teenage self.

The soccer team had gone out to celebrate their hard-won victory. You’d sat next to him at the local diner, wearing the cutest shirt you’d made to cheer him on. At one point, he realized just how close the two of you were. You seemed to do the same. To his complete surprise, you leaned toward him as he dared a longing glance at your lips. He mimicked your movements, getting ever closer to kissing you for the first time. He knew it would change things, but in that moment, he’d known he wanted to. Oh, he really wanted to. Yet, it hadn’t been meant to be as a teammate banged the window near the booth, interrupting and ending the moment between you two.

His trip down memory lane ended the moment you spotted him.

You said something to the man at your side. Your fiancé, no doubt. Then, you were weaving through your friends and family until you stood right in front of him.

“Jakey?” Your voice shook while your hand came up, nearly cupping his cheek. It never made contact though as you launched yourself at him, wrapping yourself around him. “I can’t believe you’re here. They told me you died. Should be so mad at you right now, but I’m just so happy you’re alive.”

His arms tightened around you.

When he pulled back, he tugged a small chain from his pocket. “How could anything ever happen to me when I’ve got my good luck charm?”

You gasped at the little rabbit charm you’d bought him before his first deployment. It’d been one of the last things you’d given to him before the two of you went separate ways. You to university and Jake to boot camp.

“You kept that?”

He nodded. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? You gave it to me.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but the man who’d been at your side before joined the two of you. His arm went around your waist. It wasn’t an act of possession, but it affected Jake in a way he hadn’t been prepared. You were truly not his any longer. Never would he be allowed such liberty with you.

“Oh, Jake, this is Steve, my fiancé. Stevie, this is Jake. He’s been my best friend since forever.”

Jake exchanged a few rather pleasant words with Steve.

As much as he hated it, he couldn’t dislike the man who’d gotten his ring on your finger. Another fellow military guy, Steve left the service a few years before and met you shortly after at a VA event. You’d gotten involved with the VA after Jake joined the military himself. Steve had been the one to help you through your grief over believing Jake was gone.

When Steve’s called away, you hesitate. Your hand does reach up to cup his cheek as you said, “I’m really glad you’re okay. You’re not allowed to ever scare me like that again, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He shot you what he hoped was a cheeky grin.

The way you shook your head while fighting back a smile, he must’ve succeeded.

As much as he wanted to steal you away and catch up, your other friends and family soon dragged you away from him.

He didn’t leave for a little while as some of your family came up to him and chatted with him, happy to see him alive as well.

At one point, your father pulled him to the side and offered him a stiff drink.

“You look like you could use it, son,” your father said by way of explanation.

Your father and Jake shared the quiet moment, sipping at the dark bourbon and watching the party continue without them for the moment.

“Steve’s a good man. He’ll take real good care of my daughter. It’s all I ever wanted for her,” he said, breaking the silence. When your father’s gaze slid toward Jake, he couldn’t help a small chuckle as he added, “But I can’t say that I haven’t thought I’d be giving her away to you over someone else. I would’ve approved if you had ever made a move. Just so you know.”

Unable to form words, Jake tried and failed to think up anything beyond a shocked, “Thank you, sir.”

He couldn’t possibly imagine what he could say to that information.

Your laugh caught his attention as Steve spun you before dipping you in front of your friends and family. The smile you graced Steve with made the bourbon he sipped settle like a hot bolt of lead in his stomach.

That was a smile he hadn’t seen from you in ages. It wouldn’t be a smile meant for him again.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said, handing your father his half-finished glass. “I, um, I should probably get to my sister’s. She’s expecting me. I’m glad she’s happy.”

He bit his tongue to keep himself from rambling further.

Before he left your parents’ home, he dared a final glance in your direction.

Your gaze was on him, and a small frown appeared across your features.

Not wanting you to ever be upset, he gave you the best impression of a smile that he could muster and a half-hearted wave.

The late afternoon sun burned his eyes, but he didn’t slow his pace to the truck he’d rented. He needed to get away from you and your parents’ home. The memories would forever haunt him. Taunt him with roads not taken.

He doesn’t see you standing at the front door, watching him drive away. Nor does he see the tears that spring to your eyes that you hastily swipe away before Steve can see them. Your fingers begin to play with the engagement ring on your left hand.

*****

Clay had been generous in the time off he gave Jake.

Pulling up to his sister’s home, he soon found himself wrapped up in a tight hug. His sister around his neck and his niece around his waist. Their love helped ease the sadness lingering in him at seeing you so happy with someone else.

“Uncle JJ, you gonna come to my games since you’re back?”

Jake grinned. “Wouldn’t miss them for the world, squirt.”

His sister granted him some mercy then by shooing his niece off so she could settle him into the guest room of their home.

“Oh, I found a box of your old stuff when I was cleaning up the closet in here the other day. Thought you might want it, so I put it over there.” She pointed to the box that was sitting in the small chair situated in front of an antique writing desk she found at a flea market a few years back. She’d been so proud of the find and the plans she had for it, sending them all over several text messages to him.

“Thanks,” he nodded at the box, then gestured to the room, “for everything.”

She left him to settle in then.

It didn’t take him long to unpack as he’d long since learned to pack light. He had his few belongings either hanging in the closet or put away in the small drawers of the dresser.

With nothing else really to do for the moment, he approached the box and popped the folded flaps. Photos and notebooks filled the interior alongside some of his soccer trophies and other memorabilia from his high school years.

The one thing that stood out the most was the pink notebook he’d thought he lost some years ago. It’d been a special secret between you and him. The two of you would write whatever you had on your minds and share them, so others wouldn’t see them.

He recalled the one time one of his teammates had grabbed the notebook and tried to read it. Thankfully, the two of you had used a special language you two had created in your childhood. The two hadn’t bothered with keeping a code of that language, either.

As he sank down on the edge of the bed, he opened up the notebook. The strange words and their actual meanings came back to him as he started reading. Small smiles and several shakes of his head followed along his reading.

Time quickly sped away as he got lost in the notebook and all the secrets the two of you shared.

It wasn’t until he got to the last page that he nearly dropped the notebook.

The last entry was one he hadn’t seen before. It was in your handwriting, too. The date on it was the same day he shipped out.

He read and reread the words until they were forever ingrained in his mind.

I love you, Jake. I’ve always loved you. Come home to me, okay? I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life, now or ever.

You’d confessed, and he hadn’t seen it until that moment.

His heart twisted while his stomach churned painfully. Burning moisture blurred his vision behind his glasses and soon speckled the lenses.

Did this mean that you thought he hadn’t loved you back?

That thought had him nearly tripping over himself to reach the bathroom. The two bits of finger food he had alongside the bourbon your father had given him came up. That was soon replaced with pure bile that burned his throat. He didn’t have much left before he shifted to dry heaving. It hurt to breathe, and he couldn’t get the vice around his heart to loosen.

He lost track of how long he stayed kneeling over the toilet. His knees shook from their prolonged hold. His hands shook for a different reason, but he didn’t notice as much. He kept clenching and unclenching them to ground himself.

When he could safely say that nothing else would be coming up, he rinsed his mouth out and drenched his face with more water. His skin felt on fire as his thoughts continued to reel with this new piece of information.

Had he really cost himself his greatest dream?

You’d hugged him as though you’d never said the words.

How much had he hurt you when he hadn’t responded to your message all those years ago? How did you not hate him for that?

He didn’t deserve you. He realized that now.

If he’d been a real friend, he would’ve seen your message. He wouldn’t have let you doubt his love for you. Hell, he wouldn’t have let you get there because he would’ve kissed you when he had the chance.

That was all gone now.

He knew then he would spend the rest of his vacation avoiding you. It was only fair to step aside now and let you find your happiness with someone else.

If only fate was so kind to him and his plans…

*****

Over the course of the next few weeks, Jake could count on both hands and feet the number of times he accidentally ran into you.

It wasn’t exactly hard to do in the smallish city you both called home for so long. Yet, it shouldn’t have been so easy, either.

If Jake didn’t know better, he would think someone was orchestrating this whole thing.

More often, Jake would manage to spot you and duck around a corner before you spotted him. He didn’t want to make it awkward for you or himself by actually running into you. Well, more like making it awkward for himself. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t say something stupid. In fact, it was almost a sure thing he would.

His filter never really existed around you.

Yet, you never minded that about him. With you, he could be himself. You never made him feel bad about it, either. Sure, you might tease him every now and then, but you were never mean about it. It’d been one of the reasons he fell so hard for you all those years ago. Why he was still so in love with you.

The times he couldn’t escape without you spotting him, he would offer up a wave and pick up an item. Then, he ducked out of the aisle and out of the store. He’d most often leave his items behind for some poor worker to deal with, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back. He couldn’t until you left, then he would begin his shopping all over again.

By the end of his third week, he was ready to pull out his frosted tips by the roots.

You’d cornered him in one of the shops, spotting him before he even clocked you.

“What gives?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest.

He gulped. “Nothing. What’s up?”

Well, so much for playing it cool with the way he stammered.

“You’re avoiding me, and I want to know why.”

“I’m not.”

His gaze couldn’t help scanning the store for signs of your fiancé. The last thing he wanted was to have a confrontation with you and have Steve overhear it.

“Now, you’re lying to me. All those years as best friends really don’t mean that much, do they?”

“That’s not true. You know it’s not. I…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the words he wanted to say. He couldn’t do that to you or your fiancé. You’d made your choice. He wasn’t it.

He could only hope that you would see the truth in his eyes.

That was if you’d look at him.

No, you stubbornly stared at some spot over his shoulder.

He could see the moment you made up your mind about whatever thoughts crossed it. Your shoulders squared up, and you let out a slow, steadying breath.

“It’s fine, Jake. At least, I can put the past to rest now. I am glad you’re safe and alive. I hope you stay that way. I really do. The world needs you in it.”

You took a step away and turned back to the shopping cart you’d been pushing around. Over your shoulder, you added in the softest voice he’s ever heard from you, “I really hope you have a good life, Jake. You deserve it.”

Jake fought the urge to reach out and pull you back to him. He wanted to tell you everything that’s ever entered his mind about you, but he let you walk away from him again.

In an equally soft voice, he waited for you to leave the aisle to say, “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

What he didn’t know was his quiet voice wasn’t so quiet. He didn’t know you’d stopped in the next aisle over and rested your head against the shelf. He didn’t know that his words carried to your ears or the way your unshed tears blurred then streaked down your face.

He didn’t see you play with the engagement ring on your finger. It’d become a new habit since he’d walked back into your life. You weren’t even aware of it.

There was someone who did notice and has noticed the change in you since Jake came back into your life. He couldn’t say he liked it, but he couldn’t deny you anything, either. If your heart called out to Jake’s instead of his, then he’d let you off the hook. He’d help you get your guy.

*****

The bright red glow of the clock next to his bed taunted Jake.

He should’ve been asleep hours ago, but he’d been unable to sleep since you cornered him earlier that day. He couldn’t get your sad eyes off his mind or the words you’d said to him. How he wished he could’ve told you the truth.

The words had been on the tip of his tongue, but he’d swallowed them back. Just like every other opportunity he’d had with you over the last couple decades.

No, you deserved to live a happy life with a guy like Steve. Not the hopeless case he was.

Maybe his friends had been right about him. Maybe he did screw things up to the point he’d forever be alone. He probably even deserved it for the way he’d treated you earlier and that fateful day years ago.

Shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes, he tried to shut his thoughts down. He needed sleep if he was going to watch his niece’s first game since he came back home. He wasn’t going to disappoint her like he’d done with you for far too long.

He set his laptop next to him and dropped back into the pillows behind his back. His eyes had just slammed shut with the purpose of falling asleep when his phone dinged.

When he might’ve ignored it, another message dinged. A few more followed until he couldn’t ignore the noise any longer.

His fingers deftly opened the screen to shut down his notifications when he froze.

None of the messages came from his friends.

They came from you.

You awake?

Where are you?

I really need to see you.

Please, Jakey, it’s important.

Jake fumbled his phone as he reread your messages. It took him several tries to even write a reply that resembled some level of comprehension.

Can you meet me on the porch in 5?

I won’t stay long.

Just really need to see you.

He texted back quickly.

In a rush to meet you like you asked, he donned the pants he’d been wearing earlier but forewent the shirt. There wasn’t much need for one in the still-warm night air.

Then again, maybe a small part of him wanted you to see him and be a little impressed with the physique he’d gained from his years in the military.

He ducked out of his room, grateful it was the one closest to the front door. That meant less chance of waking his sister or niece at such a late hour.

You were already waiting in an SUV when he stepped outside. The interior light illuminated your teary face alongside the gentle smile on the man you’d be marrying in less than a month.

Jake had to swallow the bile rising in his throat at seeing Steve cup your cheek. He almost couldn’t when Steve pressed a kiss to your other cheek. You said something to Steve and hugged him for a long moment, then stepped out of the vehicle.

To Jake’s surprise, Steve waited until you stood on the porch under the light with him before Steve started the vehicle up. He shot Jake a single nod before pulling out of the drive and headed down the road.

“Where is he going?” Jake couldn’t help asking, his gaze still following the retreating taillights. “Why is he leaving you here?”

“He seems to think I belong here,” you said in the smallest voice. Your arms came up to wrap around yourself as you met his surprised gaze. “I’m hoping he’s not wrong. Did you mean what you said earlier?”

Jake doesn’t know how to answer that. He couldn’t recall anything he’d said earlier that would’ve given you an inkling of his feelings. As much as he might’ve wanted to tell you, he’d been so careful not to put you in that position. Hadn’t he?

“You said you loved me. I don’t think you meant anyone to hear it,” you finally supplied, “but did you mean it?”

“It doesn’t matter if I did or didn’t. You’re engaged to Steve.” Jake spared a glance at the empty street, a frown forming. “Though, I’m beginning to have my doubts about how good he is for you. Has he done this before? Left you somewhere without any way to get home? Tell me, and I’ll kick his ass for you. I’ll—”

You cut him off then.

Your lips pressed against his in a way he’d never thought to experience with anyone before, least of all you. It wasn’t anything more than a chaste kiss to shut him up, but he could taste the berry lip balm you’ve always favored on your lips. He could feel your breath against his lips when you pulled back the smallest amount.

Your left hand came up. The shimmering diamond ring that had adorned your finger these past weeks was missing.

“I’m sorry,” he said on a breath.

Your breath hitched. “You don’t…”

You let the words hang between the two of you.

It took Jake a moment to catch on to your meaning, but he quickly shook his head. “Oh, no, no. I’m not sorry I said I loved you. I meant that. God, I’ve meant it for years. No, I’m sorry if my saying it cost you your engagement.”

“I never should’ve said yes to Steve. He was a sweet guy who helped me through my grief, and I do love him.” You stop to take a breath. That same steely determination he witnessed in you earlier that day and countless other times settled in you. Your shoulders squared and your gaze met his with a fierceness that had him holding his breath. “But he’s never been the man that held my heart. He was never going to replace the one I’ve loved since we said our first ‘I do’s’ in my parents’ living room all those years ago.”

In the secret language you two came up with, you whispered, “I’m in love with you, Jake. Always have been. Always will be.”

This time, Jake kissed you. It was a lot of smushed lips and knocked teeth, but neither of you cared. Soon, the two of you found the right angles to deepen the kiss until it left you both breathless and aching.

When he pulled away, he ran his thumb over your cheek and whispered, “You’ve always been my dream. If you’ll give me a chance, I’d like to make my dream come ”

"I think I can do that." You grinned at him, then traced a finger down his bare chest to his belly button. Your grin widened at the shiver that your action caused. "First, you must tell me what the military does to make you look this good, Jakey. I'm all for a demonstration."

Beet red, Jake ushered you inside where he was all too happy to show everything your heart desired.

*****

The two of you ended up going slower than your first night intimated.

Neither of you wanted to rush into something, especially with your broken engagement so fresh in everyone’s minds.

Your first date together took place away from all your familiar haunts. In fact, it wasn’t even in the same small city but rather an hour’s drive away. The two of you enjoyed an outdoor concert before sharing an intimate dinner at a hole-in-the-wall place where nobody knew your names.

Jake continued to work missions with the other Losers, all of whom you met almost six months after your first date. While Clay had been warmer in his welcome, you could tell the others had a protective streak where Jake was concerned. Aisha had cornered you at one point to ensure your intentions with him were aboveboard.

You couldn’t say that you fully earned her trust, but you sensed a bit of warming on her part when you assured her Jake was it for you. That you’d only given up when you’d thought he’d died during one of his missions. To know he lived had been one of the best days of your life even though you’d been engaged to someone else at the time. If you could go back and make it so you never hurt either Jake or Steve, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Speaking of Steve, you and Jake did end up running into him almost eight months after that night. While the run-in had been awkward at first, you soon discovered that Steve had used his time away wisely. He looked so much happier, healthier if that were possible. When a beautiful woman joined your group, you soon learned why. He’d found his one, and you couldn’t have been happier for him.

Jake proposed to you almost eighteen months after your first date.

It was actually the date of your first almost kiss. He’d even asked you in the same diner booth where you’d had that almost moment. His fingers had nearly fumbled the ring, but he saved it from a creamy collision with the chocolate pie you two had decided to split.

You’d said yes with tears in your eyes and many kiss to make up for that missed opportunity.

Your father hadn’t hesitated in congratulating the two of you when you told your family. He did, however, make a crack about not paying for another wedding if this one didn’t stick this time, but you knew he was truly happy for you both. He’d even taken Jake aside and handed him a small envelope that Jake wouldn’t show you until later that evening.

Inside, it held your grandmother’s wedding ring set as well as a check for a decent down payment for a starter home.

On your wedding day, you noted how Jake bit back his own emotions at seeing you walking down the aisle toward him. Friends and family surrounded you that day with laughter and love.

Jake’s dream had become your dream, too.

What’s more, it had definitely come true.

[mumms-the-word]

In Fathoms Below - Ch. 5

Ch. 5 - Dragon Turtle

Characters: Gale, Karlach, Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Gortash + other OCs; pairing is Gale x fem!Tav Plot: The island city of Nautera disappeared over 4500 years ago, if it ever existed at all. Now not a single, legitimate record of Nautera exists, save for one. The Nauterran Account. Long thought lost, it has recently been retrieved from the depths of Candlekeep’s archives and placed into the capable hands of one Gale Dekarios. With the Nauterran Account in hand and an eclectic team of Baldurians and other allies mounting an official expedition, Gale journeys to find the ruins of Nautera…but hopes to find so much more. A/N: Dragon turtle alert!! Will the team make it out of this encounter alive? Will they find the entrance to Nautera before anything bad happens to them?? Read on to find out, intrepid readers!

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“Tribute?” 

Gale glanced over his shoulder at the room behind him. The submersible was tilted at a steep angle so that the floor sloped sharply downward, forcing most people to hang on to controls, pipes, and railings to try and stay standing. It was Minthara who voiced the question from where she crouched using the side of a control unit as her foundation. 

All heads turned to seek out the vampire. Karlach was holding him mostly upright with a strong grip around his upper arm, her other hand hanging on to a bit of railing. The vampire’s eyes widened as he noticed all eyes were on him.

“Well don’t look at me!”

“I don’t think it will accept lives as tribute,” Wyll said. He had one hand wrapped around a pipe and was leaning out like a swashbuckling pirate, completely at ease with the new angles in the room. “Especially undead ones. It’s a dragon—the only language it speaks is treasure.”

“Well we don’t have any treasure to give it,” Gortash snapped. 

“This entire submersible is coated in polished bronze and brass, Gortash,” Shadowheart said. “I doubt it will believe that.”

“Then our only course of action is to attack,” Minthara said.

“Attack a dragon turtle?” Halsin asked, twisting from where he was, his back flat to the nearly vertical floor and his feet on a series of pipes, to look up at her. “Are you mad?”

“Would you rather get eaten, druid?”

“It spoke to us first, perhaps we can respond!”

“I think it’s growing impatient,” Gale warned, as the dragon turtle turned its head again and narrowed its eyes. 

A hollow-sounding, panicked voice suddenly rang out from a trumpet-like fixture on the wall. “Saer! The outer walls are cracking back here and water is leaking in! I don’t know how much go longer the bulkheads can withstand the pressure!”

“Gods-damned monstrosities,” Gortash growled under his breath. He shifted from where he knelt against the main control panels, his foot nearly wedged in the ship’s wheel. “Gale. You can speak to it. Convince it to release us.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Gale asked, irritation and disbelief making his tone sharp. “Ask it very nicely?”

“I was told you were intelligent. Figure it out. Quickly.” He turned his head toward the rest of the room. “The rest of you, ready yourselves!”

“Battle stations!” Minthara barked. “Send word to the others—be ready for anything.”

The dragon turtle spoke again, its impossibly deep voice once more causing the entire submersible to rattle and shake. 

Speak, creature. Who sends you?

Gale took a deep breath and got to his feet, planting one foot on the glass and the other on the metal control unit next to him. There was no way this dragon turtle could hear him inside the submersible, even if he shouted. It was clearly time for some good old-fashioned thaumaturgy. 

He touched a hand to his throat and cast the spell—Fortior!—and willed his voice to be three times louder, almost as loud as the dragon turtle’s. With another deep breath, he shouted in draconic, “We are priests of Umberlee! Release us so that we may offer our tribute to you!”

Surely a small lie wouldn't make things worse. They just needed to get free.

The dragon turtle narrowed its eyes again and then gave another deep, rumbling laugh.

Ahh…not a creature, but a vessel. Priests of Umberlee, you say?

It tilted their submersible again, almost leveling it out. Gale had to scramble to jump down from the control unit back onto the floor without falling flat on his back. “Yes! Release us and we—”

The entire world suddenly tore out from underneath Gale and then slammed against him once more as the dragon turtle dragged the submersible through the water and smashed it against the rocky face of a cliff. Gale and several others flew through the helm, falling first to the floor and then crashing against controls, levers, wheels, and pipes as the submersible crunched against the rock. An explosion of pain bloomed in his side and chest as he was thrown against a set of controls, all sharp edges and hard metal, knocking the air from his lungs.

The dragon turtle let go of the submersible with a rumbling laugh. As they drifted downward, sinking slowly, black spots began to swirl in Gale's vision. He tried to find his breath again, willing his struggling lungs to take in air. As he struggled, he vaguely made out the dragon turtle's next words.

You lie.

“What the hells did you say to it?” Gortash yelled, climbing back up to his feet.

Gale clutched his side with a grimace and tried to sit up. “It—it doesn’t matter,” he gasped. “We’re free.”

Gortash stumbled over to a speaking horn on the wall and leaned in to yell, “Gunners! Launch the harpoons!”

“I don’t think harpoons are going do much against that guy,” Wyll warned. “Except make it angry.”

“I don’t care. Redhammer! All engines as high as they can go! If we can’t fight this thing, we’ll outpace it.”

But Redhammer, lying crumpled just a few feet from Gale, made no response. Gale’s stomach flipped as he noticed the unnatural angle of the dwarf’s neck. Across the room, two other pilots, a gnome and a human, lay deathly still, unconscious or killed by the brunt of being thrown about by the dragon turtle’s attack.

Outside, large spear-like harpoons shot through the water, launched from somewhere in the lower decks and sides of the submersible. Most of them bounced off or barely grazed the dragon turtle, but one shot forth right as the dragon turtle opened its mouth, sticking fast into the flesh of its gums. The creature growled, shrinking back, and lifted a clawed flipper to swipe at its face, clipping the submersible as it did. They tilted again, swaying and rocking.

“Redhammer!” Gortash twisted to look for the dwarf, then swore and took hold of the wheel himself, forcing the submersible to steady. “Pilots! Engines to—”

“Lord Gortash!” Another panicked, tinny voice burst from the horn on the wall. “Saer! The port side fins are damaged—bad. I don’t think—”

Another voice interrupted them, the voices mingling with a din until the second won over. “—starboard fins! I repeat, excessive damage to the starboard fins! Half of it’s torn off and—”

Yet another voice. “Saer! The rear bulkheads have burst and water is rushing towards the engine rooms! If we don’t get out of here fast we—”

“Gods damn them all!” With gritted teeth, Gortash let go of the wheel and dragged the dead human pilot over, wedging them beneath the outer spokes of the wheel to keep it from turning. “Evacuate the ship, now! All hands to the battle subs and cargo vessels!”

Flashes of light began to illuminate the waters as something else, cannonballs of some kind, shot toward the dragon turtle and exploded against its thick hide. Inside the submersible, the helm was a frenzy of activity as people rushed out of the room. Wyll swung down from where he’d been clinging to the pipes to help Gale to his feet as Karlach hefted the still-bound vampire over her shoulder.

“Come on, fangs, you’re with me!”

“Up you go, Gale, on your feet,” Wyll said, hauling him up. “Don’t fall behind!”

Gale didn’t bother gasping a response. He merely checked that his satchel was still around his body and that the Nauterran Account was still inside as he rushed after Wyll and the others. They clambered down ladders, down into a large cargo bay area. The vast space, now filling with water that already reached their calves, was lined with smaller submersibles and two medium-sized seacrafts—the cargo vessels. Each was shaped like a big metal fish in the same bronzy coating as the main submersible, but several of them were armed with harpoon guns and even a few cannons.

He saw Shadowheart and Lae’zel disappear into a smaller craft with another pilot while Wyll and Halsin ran ahead to help others. Gale swerved to follow Gortash, Minthara, Karlach, and her fanged hostage into a larger vessel alongside several others.

The minute they were inside, Karlach dumped the vampire into one of the seats that lined the wall and pointed to a seat on the opposite side. “Buckle in, soldier, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride! You,” she said pointing a clawed finger in the vampire’s face, “I’m unbinding you but you’re staying buckled in, got it?”

“Whatever gets me out of this madness intact,” he said, nodding quickly. She quickly cut through the bindings on his arms and then buckled him in tight as he was rubbing his wrists. She left his ankles bound and strapped herself into the seat next to him.

Gale collapsed into the other seat opposite them, fumbling with the buckles with shaking hands, sweat beading his brow. The pain in his side was impossible to ignore now and every breath sent a new wave of pain. The orb marking in his chest hadn’t stopped glowing since he’d stared down the dragon turtle through the glass, but now it throbbed in time with the waves of pain coursing through him. Outside the vessel, the main submersible shook again, as if something had broken or ruptured.

“Get us free of this damnable ship before it kills us! What are you waiting for?” Minthara barked from where she and Gortash sat in the cockpit of the submersible.

“Damn you, woman, I’m working on it!” he snapped, flicking a series of switches and pulling one of the levers. 

Dimly outside they could hear the roar of the dragon turtle and feel the submersible shaking as the gunners continued to load and launch harpoons and cannonballs. A loud bang blasted toward them as two massive metal doors on the far side of the cargo bay swung open and then crumpled under the pressure of the oncoming flood. A torrent of water rushed over them, lifting them up, nearly toppling them over, sweeping away several people still scrambling to get inside the smaller subs. Within seconds they were completely submerged in seawater.

“Finally! Took them long enough,” Gortash said. He pulled another lever and something—the cargo vessel's engines—roared to life. 

Gale twisted to look out of the front windows of their vessel just as they launched out from the cargo bay. Gortash steered them sharply downward from the submersible, deftly dodging around another vessel and dipping toward the sea floor. A great flash of light illuminated the waters around them, followed by the barely muffled sound of a massive explosion, sending out a wave of force that rocked their vessel violently. The dragon turtle gave a piercing screech.

“The submersible!” Karlach yelled, turning to look through a porthole on her side.

“Good,” Minthara said viciously. “Let’s hope it harmed the creature and bought us some time.”

The depths outside were chaos. Gale watched through the glass as the wave of force from the submersible explosion sent a gunner ship careening to the side and straight into a rock tower. The vessel hit the rocks and crumpled like tin. Before its lights flickered out, he saw the tower begin to crumble down over it.

All around them, the trenches were filled with a frenzy of flashing explosions and high-speed metal subs veering around stone columns, cliffs, and other submersibles, all pursued by an angry dragon turtle the size of a large fortress. Everything came in glimpses as lights from the subs swung wildly about, attempting to pierce the inky darkness enough to avoid the hazards all around them. Gale tried desperately to think of some spell to help in a situation like this, but his pain-addled mind was useless—inside an underwater submersible flying around at reckless speeds, he was useless.

“Gale!” Gortash yelled, over his shoulder, shouting to be heard over the din of others attacking the dragon turtle and its angry roars.  His voice snapped Gale out of his thoughts. “What are our chances that this dragon turtle is guarding your entrance to Nautera?”

“Given all these destroyed ships, extraordinarily high but not a guarantee,” Gale shouted back. They swerved sharply again to avoid crashing into one of the dragon turtle’s legs as it turned in the water. Smaller gunner ships were flitting around it like flies, trying to shoot harpoons and exploding cannonballs at it. The beast swiped a clawed arm at them, catching one of them and sending it crashing into another. Gale forced himself to look away from the gruesome sight and back out toward the front of their cargo vessel. “If it’s here, the statues are lying on the sea floor—look for a stone head or an arm worn down by time and the currents!”

“And then?”

“You’re looking for a crack in the rock—a crevice or a wide split that tunnels downward into the bedrock! Follow it down and around and we should end up in the Underdark!”

“There!” Minthara pointed. “I see something amid the broken ships!”

Gale craned his neck to peer through the front windows. In the distance, faintly seen in the lights of their vessel, two giant statue heads rested against the rocky sea floor, one lying on its side. They were worn smooth by time, but there were still a few features that were instantly recognizable as humanoid features, marking them as distinctly different than the rocks and boulders around them.

“Yes! That has to be them! Look for a deep crevice—”

Another explosion, this one much smaller, rocked their vessel as another gunner was destroyed. 

“Shit!” Karlach said, looking out of the portholes. “Gortash you gotta push this thing faster or we’re gonna be dinner for the big guy!”

The dragon turtle roared again, much closer and much louder, the sound one of rage and pain. Gale could vaguely make out words in the cacophony, which rang so loudly he and the others had to clamp their hands over their ears.

I WILL CRUSH YOUR METAL SHELLS AND SCATTER YOUR BONES TO THE DEPTHS!

It yelled something else, but Gale stopped trying to translate in his head. He gripped his satchel with one hand and the edge of his seat with the other, trying to keep himself from rattling around as Gortash pushed their ship to its limits, veering sharply around rocks and other vessels.

“Gortash! It’s gaining on us!”

“There!” Minthara yelled, pointing ahead. 

Gortash didn’t respond. He dipped them suddenly downward, aiming for a wide cleft in the bedrock.

Gale clutched tighter to his seat, trying to talk himself out of a rising panic as visions of crashing at full speed into the rock clouded his mind. “Just rudimentary plumbing, it’s just like rudimentary plumbing, it’s—”

The vampire looked at him like he was going mad.

The roar of the dragon turtle was right behind them as they dove down into the darkness of the crevice. Its giant clawed flipper reached in after them, scraping them and causing them nearly to crash into the tunnel walls, but soon they were free—and driving dangerously fast in a very narrow tunnel.

“Gortash, watch it!” Karlach yelled.

Gortash pulled a lever and the vessel's side fins turned suddenly vertical, creating a drag effect that acted like a harsh brake, abruptly slowing them as the tunnel took a sharp turn upward. Gale and everyone else buckled into the vessel's seats were flattened to their seats and then banged around as they clipped the tunnel walls trying to turn and follow the snaking tunnels upward. Behind them, some unfortunate gunner wasn’t so lucky, crashing directly into the tunnel walls with another bright explosion. Gortash threw the lever again, manipulating the fins and engines to make it through the tunnels as they twisted and turned.

For one terrifying moment, Gale was convinced he’d been wrong. That these tunnels went nowhere except to a dead end and that they would crash into bedrock with enough force to spell instant death for everyone inside. He clenched his teeth so hard together he thought they would crack as they hurtled upward into deeper and deeper darkness—

And then all at once, they shot free of the tunnels, rocketing into open water. Gortash flattened the side fins again, dragging them through the depths and slowing them quickly. Seconds later, the water came to an abrupt end as they surfaced with an explosive spray. Gortash killed the engines, leaving them to bob up and down in the waves their abrupt surfacing had created.

Then…silence. Silence and darkness, save for the lights beaming out from the front of the cargo vessel.

“Did…did we make it?” Karlach asked, running a slightly shaking hand through her hair. Beside her, the vampire looked like he regretted ever climbing aboard the submersible in the first place.

“I think so,” Gale said, his voice somewhat weak. He pressed a hand to his aching side and turned carefully to peer out of the portholes on his side of the cargo vessel. Water lapped against the window, only coming about halfway up the glass. Overhead, there seemed to be nothing but space. This was no small cave or air pocket. It was a large cavern.

A moment later, two of the small gunner ships surfaced beside them, followed by a battered-looking third. Shadowheart and Lae’zel climbed out of the top, standing on the roof to look around. They bent their heads together for a moment before Shadowheart cast a spell on something in Lae’zel’s hands, creating a wide aura of light. Lae’zel threw the illuminated object into the darkness. 

As it sailed through the cavern in a high arc, piercing the darkness around them, Gale could see arching rocky walls and hundreds of stalactites hanging from the ceiling. Just before the illuminated object plopped into the water and sank, still glowing, into the depths, Gale spied a rocky beach and the ruins of four towering, carved columns framing a series of hewn stone steps. The evidence of humanoid craftsmanship, though ancient, couldn't be more obvious.

These must be the ancient roads to Nautera.

They had found the Underdark path to the lost city. Just as the Nauterran Account said they would.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Then and Now

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 4500+

Rating: Fluff mostly, except for one minor scene, but I'm leaving my regular blog warning here…Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: thanks to @marvelousmermaid for the prompt and photo inspo! I've been dying to write Tommy and fluff sounds perfect!

Please excuse any typos as I'm writing this from my phone, which I hate doing. 

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

This had been the work week from hell. Anything that could go wrong or take the most time possible, did. To say I was exhausted would be an understatement. 

I jam the keys in the ignition to my car, flipping off my place of work, immensely grateful I have the next few days in a row off. My cell rings and I groan, assuming it would be work trying to drag me back in because apparently I'm the only one who knows anything. A quick glance at the screen shows me I'm right. 

"Look, I'm off the clock. I'm taking my HR approved time off so figure it out or I'll see you in 3 days."

I hang up the phone, putting the car into drive and pulling out to the main road. I must have blanked out because the next thing I know, I'm parked in front of my boyfriend Tommy's house. 

I sit there for a couple minutes, completely puzzled by my arrival here before a soft knock at my window causes me to jump. 

"Sorry, honey! I was just checkin' on you."

My head turns and I meet his eyes, deep brown and full of concern and love. My entire body relaxes when I see his face and, embarrassingly, I feel tears start to make their way down my cheeks. I hadn't seen him in nearly 2 weeks, a work trip for him butted right up against a week from hell for me. 

I open my door and he's there, kneeling in front of me, his large hands on my thighs, slowly rubbing them up and down in a comforting manner. 

"Honey, what's wrong?" His eyes are wide and worried. 

I shake my head, willing the tears to stop as I wipe at the ones already fallen. "Nothing. Just a hard week."

"You wanna talk about it?"

I shake my head. "Not really."

He nods, rubbing his thumbs into my thighs. "Well let me know if you change your mind."

"Yeah. Ok."

We sit like that for a few more seconds before he speaks again. 

"You're staying for dinner."

It's not a question but also not a strict command. It's then I realize how bizarre this must seem to him, my showing up unannounced at his house in tears. 

"Shit, Tommy I'm sorry. I just.. I had a really long week and I blanked out and ended up here. I can g-"

"Don't you dare say go. Come on, honey. Let's get you inside."

One look into his eyes and he has me, those puppy eyes overriding any feeling I have where I don't want to be a burden. I nod and he smiles wide, standing with a groan as he extends his hand to me. I take it, allowing myself to be pulled up and out of the car. Pure instinct takes over and I nuzzle right into his large chest, feeling his arms close around me, hands rubbing my back. 

"How's a bath sound?"

"Yes please." Tommy has one of those giant soaking tubs where I can fit my entire body and my boobs under the water at the same time. I told him once if he ever broke up with me, I was taking the tub.

A quick kiss to the top of my head and Tommy leads me inside, tossing my bag on the entryway table as he guides me to his room. He sits me on the edge of the bed, cupping my face with his large, warm hands. 

"I'll be right back, honey. Just gonna pour you that bath, ok?"

"Ok."

I hear the water turn on and Tommy returns, kneeling in front of me again, helping me take off my clothes. It's not sexual but tender, Tommy taking great care to make sure I know this is for me and he expects nothing. 

He helps me into the tub, a nice warm bubble bath with the special soap I had left there. He helps me settle and stands there a moment, a stray curl falling forward towards his eyes. 

"I'm gonna whip us up a couple of steaks. Please don't drown."

I smile up at him. "With the promise of a world famous Tommy Miller steak? Not a chance I'd miss that."

He flashes me that smile, lighting up the bathroom. "I'll come back and check on you."

The bath helps to calm me, all the aches slowly leaching out of my body, the tension headache I'd been nursing all week with pain meds completely disappears. Once the water starts to cool, I get out, wrapping myself in one of his towels. It smells like him, wood and cologne and something distinctly him. I pull the towel a little tighter and head into the bedroom, pausing when I remember I have no clean clothes. Then I see them on the bed, one of his shirts and a pair of boxers laid out for me. Smiling, I pull them on, tossing the towel into the hamper before heading downstairs. 

He's standing just outside on the deck, his back to the sliding door as he concentrates on grilling. I slide open the door and walk up behind him. Without turning, he addresses me. 

"How was the bath?"

"Relaxing. Thank you. And thanks for the clothes."

"As much as I'd love to see you walk around naked, I thought you'd appreciate something to cover up with."

He glances towards me and does a double take, his eyes roaming across my body, or what he can see of it under his shirt. His pupils get wider and his eyes darker, swallowing hard. 

"You-you look good in my clothes."

"You should see yourself in them." I run my hand down his back, holding it at his lower back. He shivers for a moment and then shakes his head. 

"As much as I'd love to get in them with you, I want you to relax. This is about you, not me."

"Well what if I want you to?"

He lets out a dark chuckle. "Raincheck? I can see how hard you've been workin' and I know you're hungry."

I've never had a man turn down sex before. But it's not rejection - he's trying to take care of me how he can. 

Before I can reply, he's taking the steaks off the grill, setting one each on a plate where vegetable skewers already sit. Everything looks mouth wateringly delicious. 

"I may not be able to cook much of anything, but I can grill up a steak and veggies."

"Fuck yes you can."

Idle chatter while we eat, Tommy telling me about this asshole contractor him and Joel are forced to work with.

"It's only until the end of the month, right?" I ask. 

"We're hoping we can drop him come October, yeah. September is going to drag on though. I don't know how Joel will make it another 2 weeks."

"Isn't his birthday soon?"

He nods. "Yeah. Sarah's got something planned I'm sure."

—----

The next morning, I wake to the smell of coffee and bacon, faint sounds of Tommy in the kitchen gently bringing me awake. I'm pleasantly sore, Tommy having spent some time between my thighs after I nearly begged him to, saying it would help me relax. And it did. 

I stretch, feeling the soreness and remembering the night when a quiet knock raps on the door. 

"You awake, honey?"

"I aaaammm," I yawn.

I hear him chuckle and when he opens the door, I see that smile I love so much. 

"Mornin' honey." Tommy enters the room carrying a tray of food, eggs and bacon with a mug of coffee and a flower set on the side. 

I sit up. "What's all this?"

Tommy walks over and sets the tray down over my lap, that smile stretching wider as he takes my face in. "I made you breakfast in bed. Bacon, extra crispy, scrambled eggs with Pico de Gallo, and coffee the way you like."

I pick up the flower, smiling. "Is this from outside?"

He laughs nervously. "It…is. It's a weed I'm sorry."

I laugh, touching his hand that was leaning on the bed. "I love it, Tommy. All of this smells amazing. You're joining me, right?"

"If you want me to."

"I always do."

Tommy sits on the bed next to me, eyes bright and wide as he watches me take a few bites. 

"Is it good?"

"Delicious," I say with my mouth full of food. 

There's my favorite smile again as he slaps his thigh. "Good. I wanted to make sure you had a good breakfast in you."

I cock my head to the side. "You sound like you're preparing me for something. Do we have plans for the day?"

He tries to hide his smile, instantly looking guilty. "Maybe."

"Tommy Miller, what do you have planned?" I can't hide the smile from my voice so I shove more food in my mouth to compensate. 

"You'll just have to wait and see."

"I have no clean clothes."

A large hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck. "Actually…." He gets up and walks to his closet, disappearing inside. I hear some rummaging and he remerges with a bag, handing it out to me. I take it and Tommy removes the finished tray of food so I have room. Opening the bag, I pull out a beautiful sundress, a floral leafy pattern embroidered onto the outside.

"Oh Tommy! This is…" I'm speechless. 

"Do you like it? I wasn't sure but I know you like plants and I thought that color would look good on you." 

His eyes are wide and round, like a puppy seeking approval. I set the dress down and cup his face, making sure he looks at me. 

"It's beautiful, Tommy. Absolutely perfect. Thank you." 

I pull him to me and kiss him, deepening it the longer it lasts. Soft moans between us,, Tommy pushing me onto my back, his body hovering over mine. I wrap my legs around his hips and he grunts, grinding into me once before breaking the kiss, pressing his forehead to mine. 

"As much as I want to take you right now, we're on a schedule."

I raise an eyebrow as he pulls his head from mine. "Tommy Miller following a schedule? This must be serious."

He smiles gently, tucking hair behind my ear. "I just want things to be perfect for you. I know I'm not the easiest at times."

I brush a stray curl from his forehead. "You are perfect to me. I wish you wouldn't doubt yourself so much." 

"What did I do to deserve you?"

"I ask myself that same question every day."

—----

An hour later and we're on the road, mysterious bags loaded up into the back of his truck. I ask him repeatedly where we're going but he just gives me that same impish smile and says it's a surprise.

We pulled into the parking lot for the Blanton Art Museum, which I had been dying to check out but never made the time in the 10 years since I moved to Austin. 

"You remembered?"

Tommy parks the truck and shifts in his seat to look at me. "Of course, honey. Ready to go in?"

"Absolutely."

We spent the next few hours roaming the museum, Tommy not paying the slightest attention to any of the actual artwork as he was too busy taking in my face. When I asked him what he was looking at, he said "The most beautiful piece in this place." I rolled my eyes but smiled, continuing on our way. 

Lunch was street tacos from a food truck, one of Tommy's favorite spots that he'd constantly talk about. And for good reason - they were delicious.

We get back in his truck, starting to drive out of the city. 

"We got a couple hours ahead of us, honey. You need a stop?"

"Not now. Where are we going?"

His lips curve up at the edges ever so slightly. "It's a surprise."

"It's a good thing I trust you, Tommy Miller, or a girl might get worried."

He laughs, chest and shoulders shaking with it. "Oh you should always be worried about me."

A couple hours later, he turns off onto a nearly hidden dirt drive, winding its way through trees and bramble. And then it clears, opening up to a beautiful cabin style house with a lake that I can see through the trees lining the back yard. 

The house was exactly what Tommy had been talking about with me for months on end, asking my opinions on everything from architecture to the paint on the walls. It's like he reached in my brain and made it real. 

"Tommy, this is…beautiful! Do the clients love it?"

His eyebrows pinch together. "Clients?"

"Yeah. Didn't you build this for someone?"

He's quiet a moment, studying me. "I did."

"And they're just letting you use it?"

"They won't mind. Come on! Time for a tour." 

He offers me his hand getting out of the truck and I take it, loving the way his skin immediately warms mine. He doesn't drop my hand, using it instead to pull me to him and giving me a gentle kiss. 

"I love you, honey."

"I love you too."

He leads me inside, his hand never leaving mine as he starts the tour. The house has 4 bedrooms and bathrooms, 2 offices, a large garage, beautiful windows that open to the outside all along the back wall of the open kitchen and living room, with a dining area. The entire place is furnished and absolutely breathing taking. 

"Tommy, this is… you've really outdone yourself!"

He walks up behind me, having dropped my hand to let me explore the house. He wraps his arms around me, kissing my cheek. 

"You like it?" 

"Uh, yeah! You sure the owners won't mind we're here?"

"They're good. I promise. Now wait here a moment while I unload the truck."

I nod, eyes still sweeping over the beautiful brick fireplace in the living room. Tommy takes a few trips to bring in the mysterious bags, setting some at the edge of the hallway that leads to some bedrooms and the rest in the kitchen. He closes the front door behind him when he's done and starts to take things out of the bags in the kitchen. Lots of food, fresh veggies and meats, and..a picnic basket. He puts the food away and turns back to me, grabbing the basket. 

"Hungry? I have a place I wanna show you out back. And I.. I made us a…well, a picnic." He holds up the basket, a slight pink settling on his cheeks like he's embarrassed about it. 

"You made me a picnic?"

"It's… not much but I thought it would be nice. If you don't want to, that's fine-"

I grab his shirt and pull him down to me, my lips pressed against his as I squeeze his shirt tighter. "It's perfect."

"Ok well you better stop with that or we'll never eat."

"Well if that's the case-"

He puts his finger over my lips to prevent me from kissing him, mock shock on his face. 

"Are you trying to take advantage of me, miss?"

"I most certainly am."

His demeanor shifts, a dark lust settling in his already dark eyes. "Save it for later." 

That voice was commanding and it send a shiver of anticipation through me. 

He leads me out back where a nice patio and firepit sit, past the small in ground pool and through the trees at the back. You can see the lake clearly once you pass the trees, a little dock jutting out into the quiet lake. 

He spreads out a flannel blanket and sets the basket down, offering me his hand to help me sit. Once I do, he sets up the picnic, which turns out to be a beautiful board of meats and cheeses, grapes and crackers. A bottle of wine and 2 glasses are unloaded as well, the cork popping when Tommy opens it and pours a glass each. 

We talk about the house and he tells me it was important to the owners that it was self sufficient. They have generators that use the power of the river a quarter mile away, a greenhouse, and 2 cellars, one specification for growing root vegetables. I perk up at that as I've always wanted my own garden and to be self sufficient. 

He explains they're waiting on chickens and such and that a barn will be built on the property to house all of the animals. 

"They appreciated my point of view as a veteran too. Said I would know what is really needed for survival."

"Were they preppers or something?"

Tommy shakes his head. "Not exactly. Just wanted some place where they didn't have to worry about an electric bill I suppose."

"Wouldn't that be nice?"

"You'd live out here?"

I look around, sighing slightly. "I think I would. Especially if I had the right people with me." 

The more we chat, the more nervous Tommy becomes, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans and stuttering a lot, which is not like him. 

"Tommy… you ok?"

"What? Oh. Yeah I'm… great. More than great really."

"Are you sure? Because you look like you might throw up."

He chuckles, slightly nervous. "I love you, so much, honey. You know that, right?"

"I do…"

"Then that will make this a little easier."

He sits up, shifting his weight to his good knee as he kneels in front of me. Reaching in his pocket, he pulls out a small, black box. 

"I have loved you since the moment I met you. You never judge me for anythin' and always let me be me. You've stuck with me through the nightmares and the good times. You're always there for me. And I hope you'll always let me be there for you too."

He opens the box where a beautiful ring sits, exactly my style.

"Will you marry me?"

Tears cloud my vision as I nod instantly, eyes shifting from his to the ring and back.

"I need a verbal confirmation, honey."

"Oh sorry, YES!"

The widest smile I've ever seen spreads across his face, and yet his eyes still contain doubt, as if he wasn't worthy of love. "You will?"

"You've had me since the moment I saw you, Tommy. I love you."

He takes my hand and slides the ring on gently. I pull him to me, laying back as my fingers pick at the edge of his shirt, finding skin there. He grunts, holding himself above me, kissing me deeply as if I would change my mind if he didn't. 

"Oh there's one more thing, honey."

"There's more??"

"Remember how I told you the owners of the house wouldn't mind if we used it?"

"Yeah…"

"Well…that's because I..well we, are the owners. If you'd like?"

"You mean…we would own this place?"

"Only if you want to."

I plant my hands on either side of his face, bringing him down to kiss me. "What did I do to deserve you, Tommy Miller?"

"Must have been something bad."

He smirks as I smack him playfully. "I would love this house."

"Then it's ours."

—----

We had planned for a spring wedding here at our house, only wanting family and a handful of close friends to attend. 

Of course that all changed just a couple weeks after Tommy had proposed. When the world went to shit.

I was at the cabin, bringing some boxes of stuff and more foods. I had the brilliant idea to start canning, so I brought along what I had made so far, along with other odds and ends. We had decided I would move in with Tommy at his place in the city and we would come to the cabin when we had time off.

It's very remote, so I didn't think anything of it when I couldn't find a TV station broadcasting anything. I just grabbed my book and headed off to bed. 

A few hours later, I hear the door downstairs fly open and voices float up to me. Instantly I recognize Tommy's voice, but that's not the one I'm listening to. 

It's Joel. The sounds he's making are unrecognizable, virtually inhuman. I have never heard someone make those sounds before then. They dug into me, pulling at every fiber of my being and I lunged from the bed, practically running downstairs, taking them 2 at a time. 

Joel and Tommy are in the living room, both on the ground, crumbled into each other. Tommy is holding Joel, rocking back and forth and saying things to him that I can't discern. Tears are streaming down both their faces and I realize they're both covered in blood, Joel bleeding more from his side as if he'd been shot and it had missed.

It's then I realize Sarah is missing. 

—----

20 years has passed since that day. We've been through so much shit, but so has everyone. Joel eventually left us to do his own thing, and Tommy and I eventually found a place called Jackson in Wyoming and settled down. We did get married there, with mountains as our backdrop instead of our lake house.

It had been a long week, the crops were being harvested and we were behind on preparing for the winter ahead. Tommy and I both had been working our hands raw to get Jackson ready for the season, barely having time for each other due to exhaustion. 

A couple more weeks pass in this manner before a day off. Maria, who ran Jackson, insisted I take a day, as I was always the first to show up and the last to leave. And, as she lovingly said, "You're not getting any younger." 

Light shines in through the window, the curtains blowing in the cool, early fall breeze let in by the propped window. Yawning, I stretch, hand automatically moving to Tommy, except my hand lands on an empty bed. 

Sitting up, I rub my eyes, looking down at the empty space. Just then I hear clanging in the kitchen, followed by swearing. I hear his footsteps on the hard floors, our bedroom door being pushed open with a gentle nudge of his hip. 

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry honey."

"You didn't. Everything ok?"

"All good. Although we may be down a pan."

I chuckle and he moves towards the bed, a tray full of food in his hands.

"What's all this?" I ask, mouth watering slightly.

"You've been workin' so hard and I know your shoulder has been acting up. I wanted you to relax today."

"Tommy. You didn't need to do this."

"I know. And yet, here I am."

He smiles, curls falling forward as he sets the tray across my lap. It's got bacon and eggs, little tomatoes and onions cut up and added in. 

"This looks delicious, Tommy. Thank you."

"Welcome, honey." He leans forward to kiss me, mustache tickling my lips. 

"You're joining me?" I ask and he nods. 

"If that's ok?"

I pull him closer, fingers clutching at his shirt. He chuckles as he scoots closer to me. 

"Ok ok I get the hint."

We finish breakfast and lay in bed, tray put aside, and check in with each other. It's something we try to do at least weekly, wanting to be involved in each other's lives but also to make sure we have time for each other. You'd think there would be a ton of time in the apocalypse, but it's hard when survival is on the line. 

"Ok time to get dressed, honey."

"Well that's a first - trying to get me in clothes and not out of them."

He smiles like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "I'd love to have you out of them but we're expected somewhere."

I cuddle further into his chest. "Can't we just stay here instead?"

A rumble vibrates his chest and he hugs me tighter. "I want to, honey, but we're on a schedule."

"Isn't it our day off?"

He kisses the top of my head. "Just come on."

Groaning, I get up and dressed, Tommy dressing as well. He offers me his arm as we walk out of our home, walking me down several streets until we arrive at the school.

"What are we doing here?" I ask. 

He pulls me inside and I gasp. The entire school had been transformed into an art gallery, pictures painted and drawn by the students of Jackson. Little messages to us both are pinned next to each of them, explaining what the pictures were about. I'm absolutely speechless. 

"Did…did you do this, Tommy?"

He nods. "I did. I know you miss the art galleries and now we have one."

"I… I don't know what to say."

"I love you, honey." He kisses me and we spend more time looking at the pictures before heading out. But he turns away from our home and heads towards the barns on the top of the main hill. 

We arrive at the stables and he hitches a horse to a cart, extending a hand to help me up. He loads a couple of baskets into the back before jumping up himself, grabbing the reigns and leading the horse out of the barn. 

"It's pointless to ask where we're going, isn't it?" 

He nods. "You'll see soon."

An hour or so later, we appear at the lake, a secluded area that we've been to before. It's always gorgeous here and even more so now that some of the trees have decided to start fall a little early.

He helps me down from the cart and grabs the baskets, spreading out the picnic before motioning to me to sit. It's simple sandwiches and veggies, but he's also somehow managed to get a piece of chocolate and my eyes grow wide.

"Where did you score that?"

"Traded with the last caravan that came through." 

"Tommy, this…this was a perfect day. Thank you." 

We eat in silence for a few moments. 

"Do you know why I chose today?"

I wrack my brain. "Honestly I've been going non stop, I couldn't even tell you the date."

He cups my face with one of his large, warm hands. "You have been. Which is part of the reason for this day. But also… I proposed to you on this day, so many years ago, before…" He gestures around. 

"Oh, Tommy." I can't help the tears forming in my eyes. "I'm so sorry I didn't realize what day it was-"

He puts a finger to my lips. "None of that. I just wanted to do somethin' special. I love you, honey. I'm so grateful that we've made it together and I love spending my life with you."

The tears fall now and he uses his thumbs to brush them from my cheeks. Pulling me to him, he kisses me before gently pushing me back into the blanket. I nuzzle into his chest and he holds me to him as we watch the sunset, somehow together after the end of the world.

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage!(It is not required in any way!)

—---

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[novankenn]

"Ozpin's Fault AU"

Birth of GoldenKitsunneGoddess (2/2) (943 Words)

Jaune clasped her hands together around her fluffy golden tail, that she had unconsciously bent about her waist. The flower printed sky blue summer dress with a modest neckline, and short sleeves made the embarrassed Jaune absolutely cavity inducing adorable. Velvet couldn't help but be entranced.

"Relax Jaune." Coco called out, "Just be yourself."

"Coco?" Jaune whined.

"Let go of your tail, and give me a little spin."

"Can I just..."

"No." Coco snapped. "Now give me a little twirl, or better yet a pirouette!"

Jaune pouted, her hands tightening about her tail, and her ears pressing against the top of her head. The pure little sister innocence nearly broke Velvet, she had to bite her lip to prevent from going older sister on Coco.

"Jaune, just go with it, okay. You're beautiful, and elegant."

"You're not going to do..."

"No. Everything will be tasteful, nothing fetish-y. Just normal outfits. I promise."

"Arc's word?"

"I'm an Adel." Coco wanted to start to cry at the 9000 power sad puppy-dog eyes. "Okay... I swear. Can you give me a pirouette?"

Velvet nearly collapsed as she watched Jaune perform the ballet manoeuvre flawlessly. It was too much. Jaune was just radiating attraction while simultaneously inspiring older sibling feelings. Velvet was forcing herself to not act. To not swoop in, yeet Coco through a window and carry Jaune back to Beacon, and safety. Then her ears drooped. Beacon wouldn't be safe.

"Bun-Bun? Are you okay?" Velvet shook her head, trying to suppress her older sister impulses, once she realized Coco was addressing her.

"I'm fine, just... just..."

"Shocking, isn't it?"

"You could say that."

"All that innocence, and sex appeal in one package. We're going to have to be on our toes, Bun-Bun."

"Our toes?"

"You're an older sister, right?"

"I am."

"And what would you do if you knew your most innocent and angelic sisters were surrounded by hussies, sluts, hags, cads, chads, and all manner of other reprehensible people that will only want into her pants?"

"Murder, justifiable homicide." Velvet growled at the image that Coco conjured in her mind.

"Jaune's in Beacon. That delicate angel has no idea how appealing she is. How she'll drive people insane... I need to protect my cousin, and I'll need your help."

"You've got it." An alert on her scroll drew her eyes down. "Holy Fuck!"

"Bun-Bun?"

"Do you remember how many followers your Duster account had?"

"About 75, maybe closer to 80. Why?"

"I'm set to auto upload the pictures I take..."

"Yeah, that's normal practice for when we do these little shows. Again why?"

"Well you almost 80 followers is now 2000!"

"2000?" Coco was shocked, and grabbed Velvet by the wrist, so she could see the analytics screen for herself.

"And that's from just one outfit!"

"Coco?" Jaune's voice drew the pair of huntresses-in-training from Velvet's scroll.

"Yes, Jaune?"

"I don't like these heels."

"I found the lowest ones I could find for you." Coco called back.

"They don't work with this outfit. I need something else."

"Excuse me?"

"These," the pair of open toes one inch pumps, clattered along the floor from under the curtain. "Don't work. Ankle books would be better."

"Are you..."

"You want me to do this, give me what I need to feel comfortable, please?"

Coco inhaled slowly and then moved up to the change room. Sticking her head inside, she catalogued what Jaune was wearing, and made a decision.

"You're right." Coco admitted. "Definitely need ankle boots, and not black either."

"Maybe pink?" Jaune suggested.

"I think pink would work. Hold on for a minute, okay."

"Okay."

Velvet blinked, and then shook her head, as she could swear that Jaune was actually sounding excited about pink ankle boots. That was a complete 180 from how she was acting earlier. Shaking her head once again, she checked the analytics, and choked.

"4500!" velvet screeched.

"What?"

"You now have 4500, AND they're all asking who the vixen is. Some are calling her a Kitsunne."

"Bun-Bun," Coco spoke in a very serious tone as she came back from the shoe section with a pair of requested pink ankle boots with about a 2-inch heel. "Remember that project we were considering?"

"The OnlyFans?"

"Yes."

"Well it is mostly set up, it just needs to be named, approved and published."

"Prep it. We'll use the Duster analytics for each posting. If we can get what 10,000 we activate the OnlyFans. Sound reasonable?"

"What are you two talking about?" Jaune called from behind the curtain of the change room. "Do you have my shoes?"

"Yes, I do, Jaune." Coco replied as she rushed up and shoved the requested boots through the curtain. "Let me know when You're ready to come out."

"Okay." Jaune responded as Coco power walked back to Velvet.

"So what about a name?"

"Has to be catchy, and unique."

"Well the comments are calling Jaune a Goddess, Golden Angel, Vivacious Vixen, plus of course there are the few that are swearing fealty to their glorious Kitsunne."

"Golden Kitsunne Goddess?" Coco asked after thinking for a few moments. "How does that sound?"

"It'd have to be all one word."

"That's fine."

"Okay, I'll set for the next shoot, and get the ball rolling on the approval..."

"Ask for authentication as well."

"Coco?" Jaune asked.

"Are you ready, Jaune?"

"I am, but I have a question."

"Okay, and that is?"

"After we're done with this pile, can I pick the next outfit?"

"Sure." Coco answered as she watched Velvet nod, indicating the process was started. Coco laughed, as she thought of how GoldenKitsunneGoddess was going to take the online forums by storm.

[florenceisfalling]

waiting for the sky to fall

the yeehaw egos au is basically a self-indulgent little scramble of ideas based off of the thought: what if the egos were modern rural texans? seeing as that is where im from :) this first little bit exists without context, there shall be more but im not sure if i'll add chapters or write separate works. but this one is 4500 or so words. the pacing is kinda weird, since i started writing it back in june and got lost somewhere between then and now.

warnings for brief mentions of drug use and alcohol, and somewhat more direct talk abt homophobia - including mentions of a shitty father who is neglectful and intolerant at best.

marvin meets chase's daughter on a sunny day.

➳➵➸➼➽

The sun is just at the point in the sky where its light encroaches on the porch’s shadow, and Marvin has to pull his toes back a little closer to the wooden rocking chair in order to avoid the heat. He hums and turns back to squint through the window screen, catching 4:33 PM on the clock in the kitchen. Eventually, the sun will dip far enough below the shingled awning for the light to hit his eyes directly, lighting up the flakes of gold that rest in his irises, and he’ll have to go inside; for now, his red sunglasses are enough to block it out. He uses one finger to prop them up a little higher til they sit on the scar across the bridge of his nose, then goes back to letting his red-painted nails dry, holding them out on the armrests of the chair and rocking softly back and forth to the sound of cicadas, barking dogs, and the lawn sprinklers.

Soon, another sound joins the chorus, though it’s one less familiar to him. Something bouncing on the concrete, a giggle as the sprinklers turn left across the yard. He opens one eye to see a little girl, quite the ragamuffin in a denim skirt and faded old pink-camo shirt, both stained with grass and dirt and other things unknown. She’s dropped a red kickball on the sidewalk. She lets it roll into the grass so she can spin in dizzy circles as the sprinkler sprays over her, drenching a mess of choppy caramel hair as she finally cools off in the Texas heat.

“Does your mama know you’re wandering by yourself?” Marvin questions from the porch, putting one sandaled foot down to stop his chair from rocking anymore.

The girl hides her startled eyes with a bright smile, a gap-toothed grin of feigned innocence. “Mama’s out of town.”

“And your dad?”

At that, the girl just starts spinning in circles once again, and chases down the sprinkler as it tries to sway rightward. Marvin sighs, takes a sip from an ice-cold glass of lemonade, then speaks again. “Well, do you have a name?”

She spins, and spins, and nearly topples over to the ground when she turns back to face him, eyes not quite focused after making herself into a clumsy little centrifuge. “Darcy Brody. What’s your name?”

“Marvin. Are you a Brody like Charles Brody?” 

Charles is not a kind man, nor a fun man, entirely unlike Darcy. Most of his interaction with Marvin consists of loathing glares and on more than one occasion a drunken exchange of joking insults - or, perhaps more accurately, insulting jokes. Other than that, the two try tirelessly to avoid each other, a hard feat for a duo three blocks away from each other in a tiny, isolating town. The task would be much more difficult if Darcy had any relation to him.

And unfortunately, Darcy nods. “Grandpa Charles was supposed to watch me, but he’s taking a nap. The house was boring by myself…”

“Well, you ought to go back inside. You’re too young to run around so close to the road,” Marvin chides, ready to close his eyes and go back to relaxing in his rocking chair.

Darcy’s gaze falls to her feet, kicking a bit at the wet grass with her clogs. “I can’t open the door.”

He hardly stifles a groan, “You locked yourself out?”

She nods. “But Dad said I go home at five.”

“Will he pick you up?”

One more nod, and Marvin mirrors the movement. “D’you know your daddy’s phone number, then?”

“I know there’s a number five in it… and that’s it.”

He hums in response, sitting up out of his rocking chair and tapping his nails to make sure they’re dried. “Alright, I’m not gonna be the one to wake your grandpa up. He hates me already… Tell you what, you wait right there, honey, don’t get any closer to the road. I’ll be right back.”

She nods, then plops down on the grass, as a promise not to stray too close to the cars. Most of her hair falls into her face over her now-closed eyes, the water sprays over her again, and she seems perfectly content to cool off right there. The pink in her shirt is starting to turn green with grass stains, but she doesn’t mind one bit.

Marvin smiles and leaves the chair to rock all alone, then slams the back of his heel against the door with his elbow holding down the handle. The warped frame sticks, but finally gives way with a quiet crack. The front room is all dramatic business, decorated with tapestries and sun-faded sheer print curtains, crystals and stained glass hanging in every window. Hints of the ugly plastic bug screens still show through, but only a little. A stacked deck of tarot cards, two empty teacups, a covered crystal ball, and an unlit candelabrum lay still on the center table, waiting for an anxious adulterer, superstitious traveler, or daring teenager to ask their advice. Marvin leaves his dusty shoes by the door. Lazily he shuffles through the beads and curtains guarding the hallway, revealing the more honest half of the building - all his personal rooms, including the hall closet he currently approaches. 

Behind the broom and dustpan, and a bundle of woven grocery bags shoved ungracefully inside each other, sits a hefty cardboard box neatly labeled “YARD SHIT” in purple permanent marker. Marvin shoves everything else out of the way and rips open the most busted flap at the top of the box, happy to see his bag of sidewalk chalk is exactly where he left it: tossed right on top of a broken pink plastic flamingo and a particularly grumpy looking garden gnome.

He grabs the bag and pumps it into the air like an athlete raising a new trophy gripped with white knuckles, then stands fully back up and swings the closet door shut. He puts his shoes back on once he reaches the front doorway. After a moment to appreciate the air conditioner, far preferable to the heat outside, he finally makes it back out to the blistering sunset. Relieved to see Darcy still splayed under the sprinkler, he grabs his glass of lemonade from beside the rocking chair and leaves the creaky porch for the cement driveway. 

Darcy leans up when she sees a tall shadow cast across her grassy resting spot, turning to curiously raise her eyebrows at Marvin.

“Here you go, Miss Brody! Brought you something to keep you busy.”

He drops the bag of chalk from the crook of his elbow, letting the contents roll out all over the concrete. As soon as the sight registers in Darcy’s eyes, she darts over to the shady side of the driveway, scooping up an orange piece of chalk and testing out the color. Marvin slowly sits criss-cross next to her, careful not to spill his drink, then picks up a green chalk. “I take it your grandpa doesn’t have much of this sort of thing?”

Darcy shakes her head, starting to sketch out the shape of a goldfish. “Nope. And the only board games he owns are about math and stuff.”

“Oh, my, not math and stuff!” Marvin exaggeratedly gasps, starting his own drawing with a looping figure eight. He briefly glances up from his handiwork to stare over at Charles’ house, making sure Darcy can be seen from the eldest Brody’s porch as well as the road. “That doesn’t sound very fun at all! But you can have this chalk when you go home, so you won’t get bored if you stay at his house again.”

“Really?” Darcy asks, scribbling some fins on her fishy drawing. 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure your dad takes ‘em when he picks you up. I never really use these anyway.”

Despite his words, he starts to doodle more details on his picture. Another parallel line curving with the first, ending in a set of fangs, a shiny eye drawn in black. Darcy takes the black piece from beside Marvin, and uses it to draw a round bowl around her goldfish. Once satisfied, she starts to fill it with bright blue water and tiny white bubbles. “Are you drawing a snake?”

Marvin hums out a quiet, distracted “mhm.” The snake bites at its own tail, so he picks up a thin sliver of a broken red chalk to start drawing a forked tongue.

“What’s its name?”

“Ouroboros, from an Egyptian story.” It’s a simple explanation, but small children most often don’t need to understand ancient metaphors for endless cycles of creation and destruction.

Darcy’s face lights up with recognition just enough, though. “Teacher said Egypt has lots of sand, and big pyramids, too. Have you ever been there?”

The man smiles. “No, it’s a little too far away… how about your goldfish, does it have a name?”

“Oh, it’s just called Goldfish,” she solemnly states, as the topic is quite serious to her. She adds some waves to the top of the blue water. “Fish don’t need names, because they don’t talk very much.”

Marvin nods quite sagely, agreeing with her thoughts. He can’t argue with that logic.

➳➵➸➼➽

It took about twenty more minutes for Darcy’s dad to arrive, pulling in front of Charles’ house in a dented-up car with three rows of seats and far too many bumper stickers. Marvin quickly waved him over and explained the situation, while Darcy kept on coloring her fish. By 5:00 PM, she had completed many more aquatic creatures, with creative names like “Shark,” “Crab,” and “Dolphin,” and had just begun to draw a new kind of animal she invented. She titled it “Sillyfish.”

With no desire to interrupt her masterpiece, her father and Marvin struck up a conversation instead of parting ways. The newcomer to town awkwardly introduced himself as Chase, a name his mother picked as a compromise so that his father wouldn’t insist on calling him Charles Junior. Chase looks like he was from an entirely different world than the boring Charles, decked out in a colorful tie-dye shirt and yellow sneakers, a row of about 9 tangled-up friendship bracelets stacked on his wrist, a patchy baseball hat, and a smiley face pin hanging lopsided from his pocket. The only thing he has in common with his father is a pair of matching eyebags, dark and heavy under his long blonde lashes. 

“Thank you for taking care of Darcy,” he awkwardly says, glaring in the direction of the home she was supposed to be in. “I swear I’m gonna chew my dad out for at least an hour - I hope he doesn’t drive you too crazy, as your neighbor.”

Marvin waves him off, “He’s quite alright, what’s got you worried about him?”

“Oh, come on,” Chase grins. “He’s a total hardass on everybody.”

That only earns a stiff laugh, and Chase tries to coax more out of Marvin. “He used to half-jokingly say he should’ve beat me senseless because I wore… what was it… ‘too much lavender.’ Sorry for doubting his politeness towards you.”

He makes a little waving gesture with his hands, drawing attention to Marvin’s now-sparkly fingertips. 

Ah. A bit of a frown pulls at Marvin’s face, but he shrugs. “Oh, it’s not as if I’m unaccustomed to it. On the bright side, most the Puritans in town are too worried about my evil witchcraft to be primarily concerned about the…glamor.”

Chase’s gaze leaves Marvin’s sharp features to drift over the house instead - getting a proper look at the neon sign shaped like an eye in the window, the Christmas lights hung around the patio, the sprawling word PSYCHIC in bold, tacked to the roof and painted with stars. Darcy pulls his sight away by tugging on the ankle hem of his jeans, trying to show off her next drawing, but a moment and a compliment later he’s already back to staring at the charming decor. “All that magic and mojo, that’s s’pposedly real?” 

Marvin gives him a mischievous grin back. “Sure thing.”

“Oh, bull.” Chase says. “You’re shittin’ me.”

“Dad! Language!” Darcy scolds, slamming down her chalk with a scowl.

Marvin fake pouts, crossing his arms in a mockery of offense. “I would never lie to such a good man as yourself, Mr. Brody.”

That itself is a terrible lie, but it isn’t like Chase would believe him even if he was telling the truth. He scoffs, shakes his head, a playful smile still lighting up his face. Darcy is now staring between the both of them, curious as ever.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Marvin offers, one eyebrow raised. “I’ll even give you a discount.”

Chase finally breaks into full laughter, sighing in relent and shifting to pull his wallet from his back pocket. “How much I owe you, then?”

“Five bucks sound good?”

Stubby fingers rifle through the worn bills, before producing a ten. “Extra’s for the babysitting fee,” he teases, ruffling Darcy’s hair.

➳➵➸➼➽

Inside the house is much cooler in temperature, a welcome change to the sweat rolling like a river down Chase’s back. Darcy sits enraptured with the books on the shelf, flipping through fairytale illustrations and charts of the stars, while Chase has a couple of thoughts tumbling through his brain regarding Marvin’s choice of interior design.

“Ain’t that a fire hazard?” 

Marvin furrows his brows. “Which part?”

Gaze trailing from the layers upon layers of fabric draped about, the candles scattered around every surface, the crystals hanging near the sunlit window… Chase shrugs. “All of it?”

The magician pulls out a chair for Chase, with an awful scraping noise against the thin and creaking wood floorboards. He drums his nails against the back of it and waits for his guest to sit, though Chase does so with a bit of hesitation. “Well, I’m sure the place won’t burn down in the next couple minutes. You should be perfectly safe.”

However unsure he may be, Chase still laughs, and tries to relax in the chair, arms wrapping around himself despite how warm he was before he came inside.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Marvin teases. He’s now across the table from Chase, and the latter of the two is becoming increasingly aware of just how much he has to crane his neck upward to meet Marv’s eyes.

“I- I’ve just never done this sorta thing before. Well, aside from a Ouija board in seventh grade.”

Marvin pouts, only a little. “It’s a fortune, Chase, not an interrogation. All you have to do is sit there and relax.”

“Alright, alright,” he capitulates, releasing the tension in his shoulders and shaking out his arms a moment. Once he’s settled, he leans forward, intertwining his fingers to rest his scruffy chin on his knuckles, and rest his elbows on the table.

With a gentle sigh, the magician lets a smile drift back onto his own face. “Good. Now…” he turns his attention to Darcy for just another moment, “My dear, could you promise to stay quiet down there for a little while?”

She nods solemnly, content now to flip through an old Cicely Mary Barker book of flower fairies, and mind a bit of her own magic.

“Thank you kindly.”

And with that, Marvin leans his head back on the chair. His sunglasses are now pulled up over his forehead, keeping his reddish hair from falling into his face. For a moment, he lets his eyelids stay shut. The breath he exhales seems to leave the room shuddering along with it, settling into its comfortable place. With it, he stretches his legs and relaxes. As if to open the gates to his heart, or unfurling some unseen map, his arms spread wide on the tabletop.

When he opens his eyes, the candles flicker with life between the two men, though they weren’t before. Chase looks startled, as if he was going to ask how - but is soon caught on another sight, stumbling over his astonishment - “Y- your eyes…”

Usually, guests come at night, when the shadows play more tricks. Sometimes, though, they see what Chase sees now: Marvin’s pupils blown inhumanly wide, like a cat trying to take in as much light as possible in a dim room.

Marvin presses a single slender finger to his own lips, shhh. Then, he trails his hand slowly across some invisible thread to the velvet cover on the crystal ball, pulling it away with a flick of his wrist. “Just parlor tricks, Mr. Brody. Try to focus.”

The look on Chase’s face tells Marvin that it will be a much harder task for him than anticipated, but Marv doesn’t mind. He finds the awestruck expression to be rather endearing. He almost giggles, though he feels a bit guilty, when he reaches across to take Chase’s right hand by the wrist and the poor guest practically flinches.

Still, Marvin guides him along, and Chase soon rests his calloused palm smoothly against the clear surface. Marvin places his own hands on the other side. When the magician takes a deep breath, sitting up straighter to stare into the globe, his guest naturally follows suit. Half a minute passes in near silence. The only sound remaining in the room is the papers moving while Darcy continues her quiet reading.

Marvin interrupts the tranquil, drags his hands away.

“Let me see his strings of fate.”

And with that, the magic obeys.

In the distorted light, a mirage comes to life. Two figures dancing across from what looks like kitchen cabinets, hand in hand dipping back and forth like a boat rocking on the sea. A child, maybe Darcy, scrambling after a cottontail rabbit. Sparklers leaving glimmering trails to red dirt, and the tiny snap of tweezers pinching closed. There’s the grit of soil, and the haze of grill smoke, and the crispness of cobbler baking in the oven. 

“It’s lovely,” Marvin sighs, offering Chase just a hint of what he sees through his words. “Though you’re clumsy, Chase, you need to practice your two-step.”

Before the subject can further draw his attention away, Marvin searches deeper. This time, he speaks aloud.

“Charles is awake now. You’ve got a six pack of Shiner in the back of your car right now, and you’ll almost forget it when you go into the house. Darcy, very excited, will tell you she saw something in the woods-” he tries to read the shape of her mouth, though the image is hazy - “something I believe she’s calling a fairy. I don’t know when. And the next time you argue, your wife won’t yell back.”

He doesn’t question the last thing, only pressing forward into the thick of the magic. He swears the room grows brighter with every breath.

“You’ll find new friends here - your path is very intertwined with this place. Meeting someone at the motel, finding someone at the church… someone very…very shaky…? Wait a moment, that…”

The room doesn’t grow brighter this time. Marvin forgets how to breathe.

Chase nearly pulls away, but stops himself. “Is everything okay? You look lost.”

Something is not right about the man in the church pews. The images start flickering faster in the crystal, and Marvin’s hands begin to twitch.

There’s blood spilling over a stair, a shadow looming over it before a steel-toed boot comes crashing down into the red. Bony fingers with dirt-tipped nails pluck at fiddle strings. A silver pistol barrel first rests pressed against Chase’s temple, but traces down his jaw instead. Chains rattle and then tug tight in a steel hook. Tiny, dirty mud boots, decorated with pastel hearts, trample over the garden flowers, and leave behind prints that trail into the dark woods. Black ink seems to drip from the top of the scrying tool. It spills over its curved surface and pools inside.

“Marvin?”

The visions vanish, and are replaced by the image of a single, glowing green eye in the surface of the crystal ball, watching back at Marvin, whose heart is slamming against his ribcage in ecstatic terror.

“Marvin!”

Finally, he breaks away from his stupor, and stares Chase down. He remembers at last to inhale, exhale, stretch his fingers taut from his palms and force them to stop trembling. Chase looks equally disturbed, hand no longer anywhere near the crystal ball - which was clear quartz just a moment ago, but now looks more like something made from obsidian.

“What the fuck kinda parlor trick was that, Marvin?”

The candelabrum flames die of their own accord. Darcy turns to her father in a scandalized state, slamming down the worn copy of Flower Fairies of the Summer to put her tiny hands over her ears. Once more, she berates him - “Watch your language!”

Neither man even looks at her, but Marvin collects himself enough to respond, face devoid of any perceived emotion. “Darcy, your grandpa’s up. Go knock on his door, please, get your stuff to go home with your dad.”

“But I wasn’t done reading-”

“Please, Darcy,” Marvin tries again. There's just a twinge of force in his voice.

She doesn’t move, not until her father nods in agreement. Once she has set the book back on the cluttered shelf, she dusts off her skirt and heads out, eager to pick up her new pile of chalk from outside. Her skipping steps have only faded off the porch for a moment before Chase is already back to his interrogation. At least he’s quieter, now, leaning over to half-whisper it in disbelief, “Are you high off your ass?”

Marvin shakes his head. “You need to leave.”

Chase leans away, pale eyelashes drawing closer as his brow furrows. “No. No, what are you on? Your eyes look like -”

“No, not ‘leave my house’. Leave town. And fast.”

Marvin is now up out of his chair, searching around the room for something he was hoping he wouldn’t have to use again. He remembers in his pacing where he tucked it months ago, and leans down to a low wooden cabinet on the opposite side of the room; when opened on its squeaking hinges, dust and cobwebs frame the entrance. He reaches inside and pulls out a thick black tarp, wrapped around something heavy. With none of his usual grace, he turns and drops it into the chair he was sitting in before.

“Leave t- why?” 

Marvin raps his knuckles against the edge of the crystal ball, now too dark to be transparent. “Whatever brought you back to this place is something very nasty. I can see that now.” Then, he begins to unwrap the plastic tarp, revealing the weight inside - a hardwood-handled sledgehammer with a rusted ten-pound head.

Chase finally stands, shoving the chair back into its place beneath the table. It clatters against the uneven floor, warped wood threatening to splinter. “Yes, sure! Fine! We moved here because my brother-in-law died - dark, I know! Still, that doesn’t explain why I need to leave - or why you’re acting so batshit!”

“Your brother-in-law was a García, wasn’t he?” Marvin asks in a casual monotone, though it���s more of a certain statement than a real question. He sets the hammer on the table, and yanks the tarp open, shaking out the dust and splaying it wrinkled across the floor. 

That stops Chase in his tracks, and he drops the defensive tone for just a moment. “Yeah, h- why?”

“Because-” interrupting himself with a groan, Marvin hefts the crystal ball off of its stand and leaves it in the center of the tarp - “It wasn’t an accident. I know who killed him, and I saw him again in your own future.”

Back to the accusatory tone, Chase’s mouth falls open in shock. “Bullshit! I didn’t see any of that!” 

“Chase.” With a good bit of effort, Marvin swings the sledgehammer over his own shoulder, fierce and now-slitted eyes piercing into Chase’s heart. It’d be nice to imagine that the magician’s gaze was enough to intimidate him into taking a few steps back, but the large metal tool probably did most of the work there. “Nobody sees their own future. Now stand back.”

And once Chase listens, Marvin flips his sunglasses back over his eyes, like a last resort for protection. Then, he lifts the hammer and swings it down on the crystal ball hard.

It doesn’t shatter in a messy spray across the room, instead splitting in fractals with an awful crunch and dropping to the ground in a couple of pieces. Whatever has happened to it, it isn’t quartz anymore. There isn’t any light or clarity left in it, just shadow and jagged edges.

Once the job is done, Marvin drops the sledgehammer to the ground by the remnants of destruction, though it seems to shake the walls. He sighs, and turns to Chase, looking pale and a moment away from crumbling himself. “If you won’t leave town, at least take some of my advice. Don’t leave your kids with someone as absentminded as your father. Keep your eyes open, and talk to Henrik at the vet’s office when you need help.”

“The vet?” Chase laughs for just a single breath, discomfort and shock still clear. Despite the fact that the hammer is no longer being wielded, his body still trembles in alarm.

Marvin’s face doesn’t change, set in stone with a practiced determination. “Yes, the vet. He’s good at stitches.”

They stare at each other for another few moments. Chase looks like he’s seen a ghost, though Marvin’s the only one in the room who’s really seen several. 

“I still don’t believe you,” Chase mumbles, his voice missing any of the frustration and volume it had before. He sounds more like he’s reassuring himself than speaking the truth.

Marvin shrugs, slumping against the table and turning to face the wreckage of the crystal ball. It’s not the only one he’s had to break so far in these past few years. 

“Fine. But no refunds.”

Once the silence has continued long enough for Chase to feel safe leaving, he stumbles past the psychic and back out the door.

➳➵➸➼➽

The ride back to the late Javier García’s old ranch is quiet, and uncomfortable, the trees seeming to loom in their headlight silhouettes as if reaching out for the Brody family car. Darcy starts the drive restless, shaking around her bag of chalk, but is asleep with her face pressed against the window by the time they pull past the fence and down the bumpy road.

Chase replays the evening over a million times in his head, trying to imagine how he’ll tell Stacy. If he’ll tell Stacy. He doesn’t understand what happened enough to repeat it for her, so he decides to tell her an abridged version. One that lends itself to more believable ideas - just some clever little actor trying to scare Chase into falling for magic.

He’s so busy thinking over it, in fact, that as he walks a drowsy Darcy across the stone path to the front porch, he almost forgets that he left the Shiner six-pack sitting in the back of his car. Waiting, just as promised by that clever little actor. 

Just a coincidence, surely.

[cannibalcharon]

Y’all there are now 8 Billion people spread across seven continents, nearly 200 nations, and some 4500~ states speaking over 7000 languages. Not everyone is going to fit nicely into your comfort box.

We love to say “Oh sex/gender/sexuality/attraction is a spectrum,” until it comes to our personal little comfort box. Guess what.

Not everyone is going to fit your definition perfectly. Not everyone is going to fit inside your box.

That isn’t harmful, that’s human beings being human beings.

Existing in all facets on a spectrum, the human experience is unique to each and every individual. You have to wrap your heads around this fact. No human experience is the same. No box is going to fit everyone nicely. Someone existing different than you isn’t harmful, it just is. A human being existing differently than you. Words are made up and definitions vary on language and region. Take a breath. Take a walk. Take a long hard look at your discomfort and reflect if it’s truly harm being done or just your personal discomfort and fear over something different than yourself. Chances are it is very likely that you’re building higher walls when you should be building longer tables. Y’all gotta wrap your heads around the fact we’re all in this together, like it or not.

[sweetdreamlandstuff]

Good Girl

NSFW / Minors don't interact

Pairing: timeskip Tooru Oikawa x Hajime Iwaizumi x female reader

Summary: You and your boyfriend Oikawa sleep over at Iwaizumi’s place. And when Oikawa’s hands are on you, you don’t know yet that these won’t be the only hands that are touching you that night. Because when Iwaizumi is invited to get a taste, he doesn’t refuse…

Content: threesome, exhibitionism, fingering, dirty talk, teasing, clit slap, spanking, oral sex (male and female receiving), cum swallowing, penetrative sex, cream pie, overstimulation

Notes: Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3

Wc: approx. 4500

“I’m trying to be quiet,” you hiss at Oikawa. You bury your head slightly in the pillow to muffle your soft moans.

“I know, I know. Then try harder,” he drawls, continuing to thrust his slender fingers into your pussy. 

“You don’t want Iwa-chan hearing you now would you?” His tone dips deeper with every word he utters. You clench around his fingers in response. A low chuckle drips past Oikawa’s lips. 

“You’re into that?” He asks, almost unbelieving. “Would you want Iwaizumi to hear you, huh?”

His hot breath fans over your neck and you suppress a whimper, trying to bury your head deeper in the pillow, not wanting Oikawa to see your flushed face.

But Oikawa is relentless. His large palm grabs your jaw, making you look up at him. He groans lowly once his brown eyes take in your flustered face. You try to avert your gaze, but he turns your head so you have no other choice but to return his piercing gaze. 

A cruel smile stretches across his face. And you curse him internally as his thumb now rubs faster over your clit. And he knows you so well, he knows that you won’t be able to keep quiet now. Not when he increases his pace, his fingers plunging deep inside of you.

The squelching sound of your pussy is hardly muffled by the duvet covering you. You feel embarrassment rising in you, your face is burning. You’re afraid that Iwaizumi is really going to wake up now. 

You turn your head, seeing Iwaizumi’s chest rise and fall. He sleeps peacefully on his futon, not even a metre away from you two. You feel relief washing over you; he’s still asleep. And you almost feel ashamed that a part of you is disappointed by the fact. 

Oikawa chuckles cruelly again. “I won’t mind, baby. You know I like to share.” 

A shiver drips down your spine. You look at your boyfriend in disbelief. “You’re serious?” You gasp.

He doesn’t give you an answer. Instead he moves, pulling the covers off you both. You look at him, your mouth hanging agape. 

“What are you doing, Tooru?” You protest, feeling exposed as the cold air hits your wet core.

Although the room is dark you see the mischief glinting in his eyes. He lets go of you, standing up to turn on a little lamp in the room. Your eyes widen. 

“Are you serious?” You hiss, not even bothering to keep your voice down anymore. 

“I’ll stop everything if you don’t want,” he deadpans earnestly. His voice dips low. “But I felt you clenching around me at the thought. You can’t deceive me, baby.”

You gulp, knowing that it’s true. He comes back to you, kneeling between your legs. He cradles your face in his large palm. His hazel eyes bore into yours.

“Do you trust me, y/n?” 

You nod, breathing a low yes. His hands smooth over your waist, grabbing the hemline of your shirt pulling it over your head. You lay there now completely naked, the dim warm light illuminating your skin. Oikawa’s large hands grab your breast, his thumb circling your erect nipples. You whimper lowly. His gaze travels over your bare figure. 

“It’s nearly unfair not to share you. You’re just too beautiful,” he mutters tenderly. You gasp at his words, feeling your pussy clench around nothing. 

And then you hear movement coming from your side. Both of you turn your head, noticing Iwaizumi shifting. His breath isn’t regular anymore and before you process his movements his eyes flutter open. He squints, noticing the lit lamp. He rubs his bleary eyes, sitting up to let his gaze wander over the room. 

His eyes grow wide. He is blushing furiously, his mouth hanging agape as he sees you in your compromising position. He mutters your name, his eyes dragging over your curves. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, blushing furiously. He finds Oikawa’s gaze. 

“She’s beautiful isn’t she?” Oikawa asks, a sly smile playing around his lips as he looks at Iwaizumi challenging.

You gulp, feeling so exposed laying naked between them, your eyes flickering between the two warily.

Iwaizumi averts his gaze, turning his head away from you two, a scold apparent on his face. “I-, “ he stammers, “You were fucking next to me?” He asks in disbelief, almost breathlessly. 

A low chuckle rips through the silence. “We were about to,” Oikawa states, matter of factly. “I thought that you wanted to watch,” he leers.

Iwaizumi whips his head around. He draws in a long breath, glaring at his friend. “You’re not fucking serious!?” He grits through his teeth.

“Oh what makes you think that? I am completely serious actually,” Oikawa remarks, a sly smile tugging at his lips, eagerly watching him loose his cool. Iwaizumi hides his face behind his hands. You wonder what is going in his head right now. 

“Don’t you wanna hear the sweet noises she makes,” Oikawa drawls, letting his finger glide over your pussy. He circles your clit teasingly, drawing a quiet moan from you. You hear Iwaizumi gasping quietly at the sound. His brows are furrowed, and you can literally see him battling with himself.

You gulp nervously. You were just having some drinks, spontaneously sleeping over at Iwaizumi’s place. You could have never guessed that you would find yourself in such a situation. Iwaizumi’s green eyes catch yours, his jaw clenching as he looks at you doubtfully. You return his gaze, slightly opening your mouth but then closing it again, undecided as what to say. 

Oikawa continuous his ministrations, slowly letting his finger glide back into your throbbing hole. You keep looking at Iwaizumi as another moan drips past your lips, his dark eyes widening voraciously at the sound dropping from your lips.

“Come here,” you breathe and his eyes grow even larger, his indecision slowly ebbing away. He whispers your name, softly and unbelieving. 

“I think you have to talk louder, honey,” Oikawa teases, his hand coming down hard on your clit. You whimper, closing your eyes at the impact. 

You open them back up just to see Iwaizumi moving. He comes closer until he is right beside you. His movement is careful and calculated, as if he really isn’t sure that this is just a dream. 

You take his hands into yours, placing them softly onto your breast. He gasps, letting his hands rest there just for a few seconds before his thumbs circle your erect nipple slowly. You hum delightfully. 

“Oh, she likes it when you’re touching her like that,” Oikawa comments amused. “You wanna suck on his fingers, baby?”

You breathe a yes, taking ahold of Iwaizumi’s hand. His hand is large and rough, shaking ever so slightly. You try to look at him reassuringly before you guide him to prod his index finger into your mouth. You let your tongue glide along his finger while you suck slightly. A quiet groan rips past his lips and you clench around Oikawa’s fingers at the sound, causing him to chuckle lowly. He knew that you would enjoy this.

You look up into Iwaizumi’s face, noticing his red cheeks, his enlarged pupils as his eyes lay on your lips wrapped around his finger. You let your gaze glide over to your boyfriend placed between your legs. You see Oikawa grinning from ear to ear, mischief glinting in his eyes as he looks down at you. He keeps thrusting his slippery fingers into you at a steady pace, while his thumb circles your clit. He knows; he has you nearly tripping over the edge. But he doesn’t give you your orgasm. Not yet.

He looks at his friend, cocking up his eyebrow. “You want to taste her?”

Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows. His jaw hangs agape as his gaze drags over your naked form, his eyes fixing on Oikawa’s fingers buried deep in your pussy. The warm light illuminating the wetness spread all over your folds and thighs.

Oikawa retreats, letting his fingers glide out of you. Iwaizumi clears his throat and you sit up slightly so you can position yourself in front of him. You open your legs for him. 

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Oikawa purrs, watching his friend nearly drool at the sight of your glistening pussy on display, just for him. 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi rasps, sounding slightly intimidated.

He carefully extends his hand to let his fingers glide over your dripping vulva. He watches your face scrunch up in delight once he pushes one finger inside of you. And then he dips his head low, suddenly impatient. 

His mouth latches onto your clit, sucking harshly. You whimper, the sudden impact has your breath quickening. He lets go, grabbing you by your thighs to spread your legs further. He licks a slow stripe up your pussy, before he circles your bundle of nerves almost teasingly.

“Iwaizumi,” you breathe and he hums against your dripping core in response. You close your eyes, basking in the feeling of his tongue lapping up your juices. 

You open your eyes, wanting to see him devouring you. You nearly cum from the sinful image alone; the friend of your boyfriend buried between your thighs, coaxing you into bliss. You look at Oikawa, observing him as he positions himself next to you. You moan quietly once he toys with your tits.

“You enjoy that baby, huh?” He asks, his thumbs circling your sensitive nipples. 

You breathe a yes that turns into a low whimper once his mouth latches onto your nipple. He sucks ever so slightly but it is nearly enough to have you tipping over the edge. The sensation of Iwaizumi sucking on your clit and Oikawa sucking on your tit nearly too much to comprehend. Then Oikawa let’s go of your nipple, his hand cradling your face.

“Now, Iwa-chan, how does she taste?” Oikawa prods, while his eyes observe your face. 

Your eyes widen slightly when Iwaizumi’s hot breath fans over your pussy. A low groan falls from his lips, glistening with your arousal. He lets his tongue glide over his lips, humming. 

“You taste so good, so sweet,” he rasps against your soaking folds. You moan, both men praising you like this has you clenching around nothing. 

“You wanna cum?” Oikawa asks you.

“Yes, please,” you beg.

“You should ask Iwaizumi nicely if he’ll let you,” Oikawa grins down at you. And you see just how riled up he is, watching you loosing yourself all because of his friend. He has always loved to tease you, but this - this is new. 

“Come on,” he demands impatiently.

You gulp, trying to gather your bearings to form a coherent sentence.

“I- Iwaizu-“ you start but you get interrupted by your boyfriend harshly.

He tuts, shaking his head slightly. “I think you can call him by his first name now.”

You gulp, a low moan escaping your lips. “Hajime” you whisper, his name falling timidly from your lips. “Will you let me cum?” You ask breathlessly.

Iwaizumi’s grip on your thighs hardens and he perks up his head. You feel embarrassment washing over you when you see the way his face is nearly drenched from your arousal.

“Don’t worry. I’m not as mean as Oikawa,” he mumbles softly, his dark green eyes boring into yours.

And then he dips down again, his mouth sucking harshly on your throbbing clit. He thrusts his two fingers inside of you curling them ever so slightly to reach that special spot inside of you.

And before you know it your orgasm washes over you. You cum, long and hard. Your thighs clench around his head and he holds you close, guiding you through it. 

Hajime eagerly drinks everything up that you give him, delirious from your taste. His tongue swirls and tastes your cum as you pant and moan, almost obscenely.

You’re still a panting mess, basking in the feeling of your orgasm as you hear them shuffling around you. You hear both men moving, getting rid of their clothes, layer after layer. You watch Iwaizumi pulling down his boxers through the hazy layer laying over your eyes. You almost gasp when you see his large dick sprung, already leaking. 

“To show you two that I’m not as mean as you say, I’m gonna let Iwa fuck you first. Okay, baby?” Oikawa utters.

You look at your boyfriend, seeing the way his eyes glint, the look borderline feral.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice shaky from the excitement. 

You gulp when Iwaizumi comes closer to you. You see his arms flexing, before you rake your eyes over his muscular abdomen and broad shoulders. He hovers above you now, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses on your neck. He shortly caresses your cheek with his hand, his thumb gliding along your bottom lip. You look into his eyes, they’re dark, black almost. He dips lower, his lips ghosting over yours before he looks to the side. 

“Can I -,“ he rasps, sounding almost brittle, “Can I kiss her, Oikawa?”

Kissing you would cross a line, no one knowing what lays further ahead. You turn your head as well, seeing your boyfriend’s eyes fixed on you. You nod slightly. His tongue drags slowly over his bottom lip before he nods as well.

Iwaizumi wastes no time, his lips are on yours in an instant. The kiss is soft, innocent really. That is until his tongue prods into you. He explores your mouth, his tongue moving against yours eagerly. He swallows your moan when you feel the spongy head of his cock ghosting over your clit. 

He aligns his cock to your hole and sinks into you slowly, deliberately as if he wants to memorize every second of it. The way your wet walls wrap tightly around his length has him gasping. He breaks up the kiss, a string of spit left, connecting your lips. He looks down at you, holding your gaze as he bottoms out. 

“Fuck-,“ he curses under his breath. “You’re so f-,“ a groan slips past his lips, “so fucking wet.”

You whimper quietly. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you are for him. You’re practically dripping all over his cock and balls. But the way he fills you up is just heavenly. Your eyes widen when he pulls out of you again just to dive even deeper. Every fiber inside of you burns.

You look to the side catching Oikawa's eyes. You clench around Iwaizumi’s length when you see him slowly palming his dick. His jaw hangs agape as his eyes take in the filthy image of your tits bouncing with every hard thrust of Iwaizumi. You look at him with beseeching eyes, wanting him to move closer. Wanting him to come closer, yearning to feel him throb under your touch. 

He reads your eyes, positioning him beside you. He kneels next to you as you grab his throbbing dick, wrapping your fingers tightly around his girth. Oikawa hisses, a slow whine ripping past his lips as you move your hand.

You have a hard time concentrating on both sensations; Oikawa’s dick throbbing in your hand and the way Iwaizumi plunges himself into you again and again. You feel like you’re about to burst, the coil in your stomach wrapping tighter with every roll of Iwaizumi’s hips.

He increases his pace and you have a hard time palming Oiakwa’s throbbing dick. His hips snap hungrily against yours, the slapping of his skin against yours mixing in with the heavy pants from you three. You look up into Oikawa’s eyes. He smiles down at you viciously.

“Oh, you’re filthy. You like getting fucked like this, hm?” 

You whimper, unable to answer him, watching him like he has you hypnotized. His lewd words have your pussy spasming around Iwaizumi’s big cock. 

A low chuckle rips through Oikawa. “Can you hear how wet you are, baby?” He rasps.

You feel the coil in your stomach tightening; you're teetering on the edge. Oikawa helps you, cradling your hand on his cock to help you find a steady rhythm.

Oikawa locks eyes with Iwaizumi while he thrusts into you. “This pussy is unbelievable,  right?”

Iwaizumi groans, “Y- yes.”

You whimper lowly. They look at each other knowingly before both their eyes fix back onto you. The way they peer at you has you nearly tipping over the edge. Them both watching you voraciously like that, it all feels sloppy and obscene. 

Oikawa looks down at you earnestly. “You wanna cum on Iwa’s cock, baby?” 

You gasp, a whimper falling from your lips at his carnal words. 

“Hm, baby? Wanna see you gush around his cock, you gonna do that for me?”

You whine, hypnotized by Oikawa’s lecherous, depraved words. They are pushing you closer and closer to your impending orgasm and with a final snap of Iwa’s hips against yours, you come undone.

Your second orgasm washes over you, your back arching slightly as Iwaizumi fucks you through it. His hands hold onto your hips dearly, as moans and whimpers fall freely from your mouth. 

And it feels wrong somehow; to cum from another man, all while your boyfriend watches you attentively. It feels wrong and way too good. You feel their gazes on you as you cream around Iwa’s throbbing cock.

A hazy layer obscures your sight as you feel Iwa pulling out of you. You suddenly feel so empty. You hear Iwa and Oikawa talking to each other. You hear them moving around you, but you’re unable to comprehend their words with your hazy mind. 

You feel Oikawa’s hands smoothing over your breast, traveling down to your hips. “You okay, baby?” He asks, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” you breathe, a shy smile on your lips.

“I wanna fuck you now. Can’t restrain myself anymore,” he mutters, his hands grabbing the meat of your thighs. 

You hum a yes, moving with him as he positions you on all fours in front of him. You gulp when your eyes land on Iwaizumi inching on his knees towards you. The way his eyes take in your position has you catching your breath. 

“You wanna-,” he clears his throat, still a little nervous. “You wanna suck my dick?”

His dark orbs flicker between your eyes and your lips. You gulp, the intense look in his eyes making a shiver run down your spine. 

“Yes…Hajime,” you breathe. His jaw clenches at the use of his first name.

He comes closer and you see his big cock glistening, coated with your arousal. You don’t know what to focus on anymore once you feel Oikawa’s dick ghosting over your dripping folds. Every stroke against your clit has you whining slightly. 

Oikawa’s hand comes down hard on your ass, spanking you slightly. You jerk forward at the impact, your cheek bumping against Iwa’s dick right in front of you. You take this as a cue to let your tongue glide along the underside of his dick. You hear Iwaizumi gasping above you. You moan deliriously as you taste your arousal on his dick.

Oikawa spanks you again, causing a breathless whimper to fall from your lips. You wrap your lips around Iwaizumi's swollen tip, sucking ever so slightly. He groans, his hand moving to cradle your face. He tilts your head up and you look up to him with beseeching eyes, while you let your tongue swirl around his leaking tip. His dark eyes are fixed on you, his jaw clenching once you move, slowly taking in more of his dick. 

His eyes widen with every more inch you stuff into your mouth. And you enjoy every second of it, seeing what you do to him, watching his half-lidded eyes growing darker and darker. All the while Oikawa’s dick drags through your soaking folds and with every trace against your clit you moan, causing Iwaizumi to curse under his breath at the vibration. 

Then Oikawa’s dick enters you, he slowly eases himself into you. Your gasp is muffled by Iwa’s dick in your mouth. Your legs tremble slightly once he’s bottomed out. He curses under his breath before he pulls back out of you.

He starts fucking you slowly. He nearly pulls out of your sloppy pussy just to dive in deeper. His grip on your hips is hard, his fingertips digging into your flesh, spreading your cheeks to watch his dick disappearing in you again and again. 

You start to move your head, bobbing your mouth in the same rhythm as your boyfriend thrusts into you. It’s hard for you to concentrate on both things. The past orgasms have left you malleable, nearly too sensitive. Every fiber in you feels raw and electric. You feel so hot and every touch of the two has your skin burning.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby” Oikawa mutters, his voice hoarse.

You only hum and the vibration has Iwaizumi’s hips jerking again. You feel tears prickling in your eyes once his dick hits the slight resistance in your throat. You feel so incredibly full, completely in bliss.

You stay like that, trying to focus on both sensations. That is until Oikawa thrusts into you hard. You jerk forward, nearly gagging on Iwaizumi’s cock. You hear him cursing above you, his voice strained. Tears are starting to spill over. But you don’t want to stop. Not yet. You want to make him feel good, just as good as he made you feel. So you move your head again, letting your tongue swirl around his tip, taking extra care of his leaking slit. 

That is until Oikawa’s pace increases again, pounding into you relentlessly now, not being able to hold back anymore. His dick hits that sweet, spongy spot inside of you repeatedly.

So you let go of Iwa’s dick, releasing whiny whimpers. A string of spit connects your lips and his flushed cock, some of your spit dripping down your chin messily. But you’re too lost in pleasure to care about that. You’re too fucked out now, you know you can’t concentrate on anything other than Oikawa’s ravenous thrusts. 

So Iwaizumi does the work, wrapping his hand around his wet cock. He works himself to his orgasm like that. And he doesn’t need anything more, not with that sight he has right in front of him; you. You with your eyes rolled back inside of your head and spit dripping from your soft, bruised lips. He watches you getting fucked out of your mind and he cherishes every minute of it. 

His hand cradles your face. His touch feels so soft in contrast to the hard thrusts of Oikawa. Iwaizumi’s eyes rake over your fucked-out expression.

“You look so beautiful like that,” he mutters, dragging his leaking dick over your bottom lip. His pre-cum mixing in with the drool running down your chin. 

“You’re doing so good,” he praises you.

You’re not able to answer him, you’re too delirious to comprehend any of his words. Your aching mouth is parted, your depraved sounds of pleasures mixing in with the skin slapping of Oikawa’s hips against you. 

“Look, baby. Look at the way Iwaizumi is watching you?” You hear Oikawa’s voice behind you. His hand comes down hard on your ass, urging you to behave. So you open your eyes, trying hard to fight the hazy layer daring to lay over your sight. 

You look up into Iwaizumi’s eyes. His eyes are dark, half-lidded, completely fixed onto your facial expression. And the look in his eyes is what pushes you over the edge for the third time this night. You cum hard, your eyes crossing, seeing Iwaizumi’s blurry face two times in front of you as you cum. 

You spasm around Oikawa’s dick buried deep inside of you, your whole body quivering. He fucks you through your orgasm, your high-pitches moans and whimpers only spuring him on to increase his pace. He pounds into you relentlessly, catching his own high, holding you steady with his firm grip on your hips. And you whimper, his balls slapping against your puffy clit brutally, the overstimulation nearly too much for you to handle. 

“Look at me,” you hear Iwaizumi croaking over you, his hand wrapping around your throat softly. And you do, you open your eyes again, blinking away the hazy fog to let them trail down Iwaizumi’s muscular abdomen. You watch him palming his throbbing, weeping cock right in front of your face. You gulp, and with the rest of your strength you loll out your tongue. You look up to him, seeing the way his dark orbs stare at your parted lips. 

You watch his expression, the furrowing of his brows and the slight unbelief in his eyes once he cums. He cums hard, a staggered groan ripping past his heaving chest. You slightly flinch once the first spur of cum lands on your tongue. 

He jerks through his orgasm, aiming his cum at your tongue. You swallow all that he gives you, marveling in the taste of him. And he empties himself, until you feel his cum dripping down your lips onto your chin. He’s panting heavily, his eyes still watching you. 

You close your eyes again, your moans and whimpers breathless now as Oikawa thrusts into you, fast and hard. His rhythm is becoming unsteady and you can feel his dick pulsing inside of you. You know he’s nearly there and with a few more thrusts he tips over the edge. His hips stutter before he comes undone. 

He cums inside of you, holding onto your hips firmly to not let you squirm away. You whine, the overstimulation and sensation of tasting Iwaizumi’s cum as Oikawa cums inside of you nearly unbearable. His warm cum paints your walls white, his cock pulsing deep inside of you. 

And Iwaizumi watches. He watches you get railed by his best friend, peering at you as you get filled to the brim. And it nearly makes him hard again, just to see you like that. You’re a mess; panting, moaning and whining, cum and spit smeared over your chin sloppily. His cum. Iwaizumi swallows hard.

Oikawa groans, a string of curses falling from his lips as he lets his dick slip out of you. Iwaizumi clears his throat, averting his gaze from you two, suddenly shy again. Now, that the high from his orgasm has died down, he becomes aware of what just happened.

You pant heavily, letting yourself collapse onto the futon underneath you. Oikawa lets his hands smooth over your ass, kneading softly while he catches his breath. After a few second his one hand travels between your thighs.

He plunges his finger inside of you before he smears his warm cum, mixed with your arousal, over your sensitive clit. You whimper, trying to squirm away. You’re way too sensitive, the overstimulation too much. The slight touch of Oikawa nearly makes tears spill from your eyes.

“It’s too much,” you mewl faintly.

Oikawa chuckles darkly, letting his finger circle around your puffy, aching clit again. 

“It just seems like you can’t get enough today,” he remarks teasingly, watching your whole body quiver. And he spanks your ass again when you try to wiggle away. You whine desperately. That is until you hear Iwaizumi’s dark voice.

“Don’t be mean,” he scolds Oikawa sternly. 

His dark eyes find yours, and they gleam warmly when they fix on yours. His hoarse voice is barely audible as he whispers, “She’s been such a good girl.”

©sweetdreamlandstuff

[house-of-laminations]

The "Incident"

A follow-up to this ask and technically part of the 'From Afar' series (though can be read as a standalone). The strange instances occurring around MC have lead demon hunters right to their door. This is how MC and the brothers cope (spoiler alert: they don't). Now with bonus Lucifer angst at the beginning and some recovery fluff at the end! Set post S1. This one is long (~4500 words).

cw: starvation, sleep deprivation, isolation, exorcism mentions. This one has MC being in captivity for an extended period of time, so if those themes make you uncomfortable, maybe give this a bit of a miss. Also violence and murder and cannibalism bc this has people going absolutely feral bc of the brothers.

Lucifer

The explosion of malevolence at was once the gazebo drew the attention of - well. Everyone in Devildom. But the only ones brave enough to directly confront it was, unfortunately for Lucifer, the Prince and his butler.

He tries to explain, excuse their actions. Beelzebub, Asmodeus, and Mammon occasionally pipe up, adding their own stories, their own thoughts. But it's impossible to explain what it's like to be at the mercy of their own power for the first time in millennia, not to someone who has no point of reference for what it's like to be an Avatar.

Diavolo puts his foot down - figuratively and literally - when they try to move past him to get to MC.

“You can’t attack humans for harming one of their own - Heaven would see it as an act of war.”

"Who cares about the Heaven!? MC is in trouble and we've gotta-"

Mammon’s voice becomes muffled as his body is frozen in place, his cursed being trying and failing to fight off the hold of the only one who is stronger than him. His forms rapidly shift between human, demon, and other, but nothing seems to shake the hold on him. Eyes, icier than they’ve ever been, glare venomously at Lucifer, and he can practically hear the sound of the House coffers emptying.

"You're not to enter the human world with the intention of attacking humans who have not provoked you directly. Promise me," Diavolo says, gaze sweeping over the fidgeting, restless demons.

Leviathan tries to step in, shifting his gaze from Lucifer to Mammon quickly like he’s not sure who to focus on. Lucifer extends the reach of his curse to Leviathan easily, the third-born considerably less of a challenge to keep under control than the second.

Diavolo seems unaffected by this display, his voice stern: “I need your word, Lucifer.”

His eyes glow with power, the serious countenance reminding Lucifer of-

“You must pledge your loyalty to me, Lucifer.”

- the circumstances are uncomfortably familiar, too. Someone he loves in so much trouble, yet the tensions and the will of others around them making help nearly impossible to come by. There's no way out for him, bound as he is to... huh. Alright.

Lucifer knows his brothers realize how he will respond as he wraps the younger four up into his curse as well. It's a precaution.

"Of course," he says, bowing, "I have pledged my absolute loyalty and allegiance to you, Diavolo."

Diavolo eyes him wearily, and that almost hurts more than his brothers' betrayed gazes. Lucifer has always tried his hardest to prove his loyalty to his prince, that it's not just his word but his desire tying them together.

The Prince nods, turning to leave. Barbatos follows him silently. Lucifer watches them go.

The second Diavolo’s presence is no longer felt in the area, he releases his hold. The cries spill out, each hitting him like a knife to his nonexistent heart.

“Lucifer you bastard! MC’s in trouble - the puny human isn’t going to last on their own - “

“- the most powerful but the most stupid, cowardly… why do you get to have all that power when you’re not going to use it to - “

“- ̴g̸o̵i̸n̸g̶ ̵t̵o̷ ̸t̶e̸a̸r̴ ̵y̵o̴u̶r̴ ̶r̶e̵m̴a̸i̷n̶i̷n̷g̸ ̸w̷i̵n̶g̷s̸ ̴o̴f̵f̴ ̶a̴n̸d̸ ̴f̵o̶r̷c̵e̸ ̸t̴h̶e̵m̶ ̸d̷o̴w̴n̵ ̷y̴o̷u̷r̸ ̵t̵h̶r̸o̵a̵t̵ ̵j̴u̴s̴t̷ ̵t̸o̴ ̷s̵e̸e̸ ̴y̵o̵u̴ ̴c̷h̷o̵k̵e̵ ̶o̵n̷ ̴-̸ ̵“̴

“-pathetic. You just pretend that you’re strong, that you have any interest in anyone to hide the fact that you’re just a miserable, scared, cosmic mistake who - "

“ - thought things were better, that you’d at least consider helping them -”

“- proves you don’t love anything or anyone, not even yourself -”

“Enough.”

The cries of his brothers are silenced with that one word. Not through a curse this time, but likely because of the crack in his voice betraying his own feelings. Lucifer forces himself to meet the eyes of his brave, stupid, loyal brothers, not for the first time feeling the distance between them - that he had caused.

I will take care of it, and I'll take care of my brothers no matter what. He knows this. But they don't. They don't trust him at all.

And that's his fault.

There's a part of Lucifer that wants to run away, curl up and hide in the face of this knowledge. But he can't. Not because of his responsibilities, but because he's physically, spiritually incapable of doing so.

Taking a deep breath, Lucifer tries to explain himself.

"Diavolo is right in that we can't all storm the human world - no, Mammon, let me finish - unprovoked. But humans are so fickle, so easy to corrupt," Lucifer pauses, making sure he has the attention of all his brothers, "It would be a shame if they allowed their basest desires to overtake them."

Surprisingly, it's Satan who first retracts his claws and his overwhelming rage, the green (and many) eyes narrowing contemplatively.

"Alright," he says, his voice promising retribution if he doesn't like what he hears next. "Let's hear your plan."

MC

When you tear yourself from unconsciousness (more violently than you have in months. This is not the grasp of your beloved Sleep), there’s a blindfold over your eyes. It smells of sage and other rich fragrances. There's a constant dripping sound coming from somewhere in the room, echoing slightly against what you're assuming is concrete, or maybe even stone.

You're not sure what's more unsettling - this experience, or waking up in a hall that looks like a courtroom, while figures who look human but are not, with smiles too smooth and fingers too long, inform you of your unwitting enrollment as a 'human sacrifice exchange student'.

Honestly, probably the former. At least in the latter, you weren't tied lying down on a table (?), blindfolded. You don't pretend that you had more autonomy back then, but at least there was the illusion of it.

Trying to wiggle out of your bonds doesn't work - you're tied too tightly. You're probably not on a table either, as your attempt to rock the surface you're on from side to side has exactly zero effect. You take a deep breath, pushing down the panic that starts to grow in your chest.

You don't know how long you spend lying there, listening to that drip ... drip ... drip ...

... drip ... drip ...

...drip...

“...You were right about this one, Inquisitor. Their home is overgrown with the flowers of Hell,” says a vaguely familiar voice. It’s slowly getting louder as whoever is speaking gets closer to you. “It was way more than a typical witch or sorcerer should be able to withstand. The Corruption must go deep.”

You feel rage begin to overtake the panic building in your chest. You recognize that voice - ‘Jonathan’, the one supposed friend you’ve made since returning.

You hate him so much. How dare he betray you - he needs to ge̴t̴ ̷w̴h̵a̵t̵ ̸h̴e̸ ̵d̶e̸s̷e̴r̷v̵e̵s̴ -

Silence fills the space for a moment before you hear a deep hum. This is a new voice. Deeper, older.

"We'll have to be very thorough in our cleansing. This may be the best opportunity we have for a substantial blow against the Corruption."

Any reply was drowned out by the sound of keys rattling, and then a heavy door squeaking open. You hold your breath in a futile attempt to make yourself as unobtrusive as possible.

Unfortunately this doesn't quite work, and you smell stale breath fan across your face before a hand roughly grabs the blindfold and pulls and -

Bright light hits your eyes, and it burns. You blink rapidly, trying to clear your vision. Slowly, bits and pieces come to you.

The room is large. Stone walls and arched columns. Ivy and moss growing up and over, clinging to the sides of the altar you're tied to. Jonathan is there, staring at you dispassionately, while beside him holding the blindfold, is an old man wearing gaudy-looking robes. There’s wrath in his eyes, his stare tearing to the core of your being. It’s the first time in a long time that the promise of pain, of revenge, has made you fearful.

You turn your head, trying to avoid that gaze. That may have been a mistake.

Directly above you like the world's most expensive skylight is a large, bright stained glass window. Depicted between the multicolored shards of fire and flame are two battling figures. One is bright, wielding a sword, and clearly triumphing over the other - a dark, pained, familiar figure, forced down into the flames below. There's text around the edges in a runic language you've never seen but somehow understand: May the Pure Triumph Over the Corrupt for the Good of All Mankind.

You've never met Michael, but now you think you've seen his likeness.

"I've cleansed a lot of your kind before, but I must say I've never seen someone so corrupt," the old man says, breaking your gaze from that window.

"Please," you try, "I have no idea what you're talking about! Where am I - who are you?"

Jonathan scoffs at your question, eying you disdainfully. You want so badly to tear off these bonds and claw out his eyes.

"There's no point playing the fool, young sorcerer," the old man answers, "accept your defeat with dignity, and you shall have an easier time of the Cleansing."

Sorcerer? But you're nothing like Solomon - you can't summon your pacts without borrowing magic, or cast any spells.

Also. What the fuck is the 'Cleansing' and why did it sound like a Capital C affair?

"I- I"m not a sorcerer, I don't have any magic of my own," you try to explain, though the lie is flimsy.

Jonathan ignores you, turning to the old man.

"What would you have us do with this one, Inquisitor?"

The old man ponders you for a moment, before answering. "Around the clock Cleanses. If the evil has taken root so deeply, it could be possible this is a case of possession, and the victim is innocent."

"But, sir -"

"We are here to rid the world of evil, my young protégée. We must take care that we do not give into it ourselves," the Inquisitor says, his voice firm. You can tell Jonathan isn't happy with this answer, but honestly, fuck him. He betrayed you.

"Yes, Inquisitor, as you say," he grumbles, and then the Cleansing starts.

...

Over the next few hours... days... (weeks?) ... you're forced into somewhat of a routine.

Sleep is denied to your for longer than an hour at a time, and you're only allowed to consume water that tastes too pure. Your stomach has stopped grumbling, and you know if you were allowed to stand up, you'd immediately collapse in a faint. This is all interspersed with sometimes painful attempts at cleansing, or whatever these psychos are trying to do to you. Sometimes it's 'Jonathan', sometimes it's other hooded and masked acolytes. It's never the Inquisitor personally, though he oversees every attempt.

These 'ritual cleanses' range in being yelled at in a language that makes your teeth hurt and your bones feel too brittle under your skin, to being harshly doused in water that feels both freezing cold and boiling hot. Sometimes it's a combination of both things - chanting in that language that hurts while water and sometimes oils are applied liberally to your face and body. These are the only times the blindfold is removed, and you're forced to stare at that horrible, beautiful stained glass effigy.

You're not completely unaware of the world and the situation around you, however.

Your guards are quite chatty after the past few days - never responding to you, of course, but quick to gossip with one another.

They talk about a new club that's opened in town, and how unfair it is that there's all these beautiful people who go, but their order is forbidden from partaking in the pleasures of the flesh. There's jealousy in their tone.

Jonathan returns, calling you a vessel of temptation and desire while lighting scented candles that make your throat feel tight with pain, suffocating you. He's glaring at you, the vitriol in his gaze screaming 'this is your fault'.

It's only a few days later that they're gossiping about deserters amongst the rank and file.

The Inquisitor oversees another round of chanting, joining in at the end. His words sear across your skin like a brand, and you hear nothing but a high pitched ringing.

There's also apparently a string of thefts - their order permits very little in terms of material possessions, but that which they do have is seemingly hoarded amongst the higher personnel.

The Inquisitor's gaudy robes stand out much more after learning that. His ring is heavy as he slaps you across the face mid-chant, attempting to 'expel the evil'.

Infighting and tensions in the sleeping quarters.

The Inquisitor and Jonathan both return, though you notice the hateful gaze of your once-friend also begins to stray to the elder.

Food isn't stretching as far between supply runs.

The new guards, for your originals have both disappeared in the past few days, hold you down as you're forced to swallow that horrible, horrible water. Your body seizes for a moment before it's absorbed. Your pact marks tingle, but then they burn comfortingly.

New recruits are too lazy, oversleeping, napping on the job.

They no longer let you have that hour of sleep. Now you attempt to get your rest in the 20 minutes between each Cleanse. It's not enough, not by far.

You think maybe this was once a tight ship, but in recent days it's all started falling apart at the seams.

...

The last straw is apparently Jonathan, much to your disgust.

You're making up stories about what could be causing those constant drips in your head to entertain yourself when you hear the heavy door slam open with a force you hadn't heard before. There's angry, heavy breathing that gets closer and closer until the blindfold is yanked off your face so abruptly that your head snaps back against the stone altar as it's pulled away.

"What have you DONE?" the Inquisitor growls in your face. You flinch away from the spit and spittle that lands on the stone beside you. You notice there's a deep cut in the old man's face, blood flowing freely into his eye.

You laugh, though the sound is little more than a wheeze.

"I'm sorry Inquisitor, I'm not sure what you're talking about. I'm a bit..." you cough before you can get the sentence out, "tied up."

This enrages the old man.

"How did you enchant my protege? You've been weakened, tied up, and you rest on hallowed ground. How did you corrupt him?" He shakes you as he screams this in your face, and your head knocks against the altar again.

You wince as the world gets fuzzy from what you're sure is either sleep deprivation, hunger pains, or a concussion (or any combination thereof). You feel the last of your restraint leave you. You're honestly surprised it lasted this long.

"You should have given him more credit. It's not my fault he got jealous - though what there is to be jealous about, I'm not too sure. Those robes are atrocious."

He screams, pulling out a very sharp, wicked knife from his belt. Light from the stained glass window reflects off it in a myriad of colors, and at least you're going to be killed by something beautiful.

"I am going to des̶t̸r̸o̷y̸ ̴y̶o̵-"

The Inquisitor seems to cut himself off, his body locking in place. You get a glimpse of wide, panicked eyes before they're quickly overtaken by a frightening, comforting, green.

"Cat got your tongue, Inquisitor?" purrs a familiar voice.

It echoes throughout the chamber and yet there's nothing but silence, save for the panicked breathing of the guards around you.

The dripping that has been a constant metronome has also stopped.

Instead, now it is a flood of liquid, pouring into the chamber down from the roof. Reflected in the surface is a humanoid shape, though not one that belongs to anyone currently standing in the room.

"You held out longer than we initially thought you would - of course, putting them at greater risk. I should commend you. You had too much drive, to much temperance for my youngest brothers to take hold - " Lucifer's reflection says, and as he does, you notice the dark flames in that stained glass get darker, despite the bright sun.

"- Not envious either, you're comfortable with your lot in life. For a moment or two there, we even thought you might give into lust. I shouldn't blame you - they are stunning. But..."

Glass shatters, raining down from above. You close your eyes and flinch away to avoid being cut. None of it lands on you, or the altar. You open your eyes a crack, and are greeted with a dark, leathery, miasmic wing.

The shadows whisper around you, "no sharp glass for the small, fragile human. The Great Mammon will protect you."

The moniker has never felt more appropriate, as his being seems to curve up and shield you from more than just above. The darkness wraps around you and the room, cutting off all light besides that coming from the flickering candles. Beaks, many of them, peck at your hair, your bonds, and your clothes. The touch should hurt, but it's the best thing you've felt in ages.

Another voice, smoother and sickly and sharper continues Lucifer's thought.

"...They're not for you."

The guards are now scrambling, but it's hard to fight off what's coming from within. One of them - the one who spoke out that envious thought - stiffens before his flesh darkens and he screeches in agonizing pain. He bends over, coughing up a dark, shadowy, viscous sludge. It splatters all over the floor, broken up only by the blood and viscera also forcing its way through the guard's throat. His shadow grins at him, becoming larger, darker, until its scale is immense and unknowable.

One of the other guards seems to faint though they don't stir even as a third descends upon their fallen form, teeth tearing at armour and flesh, consuming with a ravenous hunger. A fourth seems transfixed by the sight, a pink sheen to their eyes. They lean into the biting and gnawing of that third guard, even as their flesh is torn to shreds.

You watch as one by one, the guards and acolytes around you fall to their vices:

their greed turning their blunt fingers into claws that grasp and tear;

their envy filling their throats, suffocating from within and without;

their lust that shatters their inhibitions, to make them see the joy in this depravity;

their gluttony ensuring their stomachs are never full, and all around them is a feast of fresh meat;

the creeping slothfulness sapping at their will to fight back, to embrace the nothingness, the meaninglessness;

and their wrath building in retaliation to this all.

They turn on one another violently, in action and in drive.

Throughout it all, you feel the satisfaction, the pride that your enemies are getting what they deserve so thoroughly.

From above you, the Inquisitor shakes, but it's too late to let go of the wrath that wraps around his heart and soul. He can only give in.

His fingers release their hold from the dagger one by one, before it clatters on the altar beside you, barely audible over the cacophonous buzzing of flies, the cawing of crows, and the trampling of a thousand hooves.

The Inquisitor screams painfully, and the door bursts open, Jonathan stumbling in, putting pressure on a freely flowing wound.

Talons guide your own hands to pick up that shiny, beautiful dagger tha̶t̷ ̸b̶e̵l̷o̴n̸g̵s̶ ̵i̶n̴ ̸y̴o̵u̵r̷ ̶h̵a̸n̶d̴. The hilt is freezing in your grip. The feeling spreads up your arm and into your chest. The dagger slices through the Inquisitor's neck like butter. And, oh, how beautiful that spray of blood makes you feel.

"Please, MC," Jonathan begs and you can see him trying to lean on the old rapport you once so easily had. "Stop this. Drop the spell, please!"

But it's not a spell. This is life, and it's so easy to just. Take. It's all m̶e̸a̷n̷i̴n̵g̵l̸e̴s̵s̴, and really, what does it matter if a few good-for-nothings drop dead anyway? It's never going to be enough. Nothing satisfies you.

Everything that has been done to you, everything that has happened hits you all at once. Instead of collapsing into a pile of pity and regret, your heart hardens and you pull yourself up to a sitting position. You're strong. So much stronger than them, you would never give in. You are going to make them regret hurting y̶͚̿ǫ̷̅u̶̯̓.

The dagger sinks into Jonathan's chest and you feel -

peace.

Drip...

...Drip...

Silence.

Then immediately, all your senses are overwhelmed by the seven figures that seem to coalesce from nothingness. Soft, clawed hands lift you from the altar and you're placed in the arms of one, no, two, three? of them as they pet your hair and your skin, skimming over the wounds and burns left behind. You smell blood and coffee and roses and expensive alcohol as your face is pushed into someone's chest by a strong hug, turning slightly so you can also nuzzle into someone else's neck. Feathers and horns and eyes and light and shadows all blend together into a mindbreaking tapestry. Soft coos and chirps and clicks whisper in your ear, sweet nothings streaming in from all around you.

It takes a moment for you to comprehend the words they're whispering, the pleas they're making.

"-so sorry it took us so long -"

"- you're safe now, I'm never letting you go again -"

"- held out much longer than we thought, we're so sorry-"

"Please... I can't -" you rasp, and they all quiet. "Why now? Why didn't you... sooner?"

One of the bodies tries to withdraw, but you snap out a hand to grasp at something to keep it in place. Your fingers sink into plush, sharp feathers. Lucifer relents, reaching back instead of pulling away like he had tried to.

"Diavolo forbid us from directly interfering," he explains.

You glance around the room (as much as you can while in the middle of your demonic cuddle pile). You think your face must display some of your feelings - mostly the incredulous confusion.

"Humans are fickle," Levi explains, the one who can most easily see your expression. "We couldn't directly interfere, but..."

"It's not our fault if we're invited in," Asmo continues.

"We were here right from the beginning - you made sure of that," says Beel. His chest where your back is pressed against it rumbles as he speaks.

Belphegor snorts in derision, "but Lucifer didn't want us to do anything until we were felt by everyone. Which was dumb and put you in danger and -"

"Ultimately the best choice," Satan interrupts, and it must be winter in devildom if he is defending Lucifer's decision. "The old man was dangerous, and he was pretty good at keeping a lid on his desire. He could've seriously hurt you if we did anything sooner."

"I'm just grateful Satan was able to snag him at all," finishes Mammon. "I was this close to just burstin' in there, Diavolo be damned."

A laugh bubbles up in your chest and it's the second best thing you've felt today - right after everything you're feeling right now, held as you are.

"Diavolo's already damned. That's the whole damn point," you manage to get out.

And like that, the tension is broken. There are laughs. There are tears.

It takes you a long, long time before you leave their embrace.

...

Recovery takes time. It happens in fits and spurts. But it's helped (mostly) by your demons.

Lucifer checks on you constantly. In his presence, you feel the strength you need to be able to talk about your experience, your fear, and your resentment. You're not sure if that strength is his or your own, but you don't care. It helps to get it all out. He bears your screaming and your crying, and his touch is soft when you're done. He knows precisely what to say to give you back your confidence, to reassure you that you're safe, you're home.

There's always at least three crows in your general vicinity - even more when you return to the human world to see to some unfinished business and settle some affairs. You find you always finish your day owning and wearing more precious jewelry than you started with. Mammon's physical form always clings to you whenever he's allowed to, and you're too greedy for his presence to turn him away.

Levi makes sure to catch you up on all the episodes you missed while you were locked away. His tail anchors you in place as you watch and does not let go even for a moment. Instead of struggling out, you lean into him, lacing your fingers together. He blushes so prettily every time.

Satan reads to you on the nights you don't want to sleep. He curls up in your lap like a cat, allowing your fingers to run through his hair. He is completely at your mercy - something you didn't realize you needed. You think maybe part of it is an apology for taking his time, but you reassure him constantly that it's not his fault. He submits to your wrath, and that wrath is cuddles and sweet nothings and kisses.

Asmo pampers you all day, everyday. There's always a bath waiting for you when you wake up that smells of your favorite salts, the water colored by your favorite bath bombs. He's quick to kiss away your fears about your recovering body, paying special attention to the scars you gained. He makes you feel beautiful, desired even at your most insecure.

Beel never makes you feel bad about how little you eat when you first come back. More than a few mouthfuls at a time makes you feel sick, but he takes care of the leftovers so quickly that no one has a chance to look at you in worry. He makes sure there's constantly a snack in your hand or nearby, just in case your appetite picks up again.

And Beelzebub is not above letting himself influence you, even slightly. You do feel hungrier in his presence, and you're able to stomach more when he's nearby.

You never sleep alone. But more importantly, you never dream alone. It doesn't matter that you can now see your demons whenever you want - you still find your dreams visited by the very being whose lap you fell asleep on in the first place. Belphegor fights back your nightmares, and when they're too strong to overcome, he holds your hand through them.

You don't think you'll ever understand how these demons, these Avatars of Sin can love you so selflessly. Not when it goes against their very beings.

But maybe that's it.

Maybe to love is to be selfish.

To love so fiercely, so strongly, that it's alright if the world breaks for you, for your love. To make that love the only thing that matters.

eheheh happy devil day everyone! | back to masterlist

[lokiprompts]

The Shifter - Chp 4

Summary: You go back into Loki's world, but you have a hard time remembering him. Things fall apart and Loki realizes he might lose you.

Warnings: Illness, blood, near death experience. Angst for days.

Words: ~4500

Other chapters on my master list.

            You wiped the blood from your nose and groaned.

            “A freakin’ nosebleed? Seriously? Good morning to me.” You slowly sat up and pinched the soft part of your nose, leaning forward a bit. This wasn’t your first nosebleed. It was actually quite common for you, but it was odd to have it this time of year. Typically, you got them during the colder months when the air was dryer, not now. And the headache? You felt like your head was splitting open.

            After some serious self-convincing, you hauled yourself out of bed. The pressure in your temple hit you like a ton of bricks and for a moment, you thought you might faint. Spots were forming in your eyes and your body felt like it was covered in pins and needles. A few terrifying minutes passed, and just as quickly as your symptoms came on, they went away. You sighed in relief.

            “Okay, that was scary.” You thought about calling your doctor, but the balance in your bank account told you that you better reconsider.

            “Yay, America.” You mumbled, making a pot of coffee. You had contacted your friend Amanda that morning to give you a ride to work. The auto shop would be looking at your car today since you had dropped it off last night after business hours. The impending bill made you nauseous, but you had to carry on. Make that good ol’ dollar.

            When Amanda arrived outside of your apartment building, she called you and you hopped in her car. Your head still hurt, but not nearly as bad as it did earlier.

            “You look terrible.” Your friend said bluntly, yet the worry in her voice was evident.

            “Yeah, I felt like I hadn’t slept at all. I had more of those vivid dreams.” You sighed, pressing your forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window.

            “Maybe lay off the fanfiction.” She teased, but you knew she was serious.

            “Actually, I haven’t read anything like that in quite a while. It is just stuck in my brain, I guess. It’s so weird. Each night, it picks up from where I left off. Like I am waking up in a dream world and walking around in it. Does that sound weird?”

            “A bit,” She looked at you from her peripheral, more worry on her face, “Just try and sleep tonight. Take something if you need to, okay?” You smiled at her and promised her you would make your sleep a priority. The friendship you shared with her was important to you and you cherished it. There weren’t many people in your life that you were close to, so you would take her advice to heart.

            “Was it spicy at least?” Amanda grinned and you laughed. Leave it to her, to jump from a serious topic to a sexual one.

            “No, it’s bizarre. I was talking to Loki, and I told him what you said about going for it and just sleeping with him.”

            “Then what happened?!” If she wasn’t driving, she would be on the edge of her seat. Both of her hands gripped the steering wheel as she waited for you to spill the tea.

            “He looked uncomfortable.” You said, sadly. Part of you considered that he was coming off shy, sheepish even, but your mind convinced you there was no way that was happening. Even in your dream. There was no way someone like Loki would ever look at you, or even think about sleeping with you.

            “Anyone would be BLESSED to have the privilege of even THINKING about having sex with you. You’re a hottie and if dream Loki doesn’t see it, he’s fucking stupid. But remember, it’s your dream.” She paused as she thought, “Maybe, that’s why you are having these reoccurring dreams. You are letting all these crazy situations happen to you. You’re a prisoner. You’re a test subject. All situations where you have no control.”

            She turned to you a bit as she continued, “Much like your life, right now. I think you need to go for what you want and take charge! Grip your dreams by the balls and make them your bitch.”

            You stared at her in awe, “You are better than any dream journal I have ever read.”

            She smirked, “I know.”

            The rest of the ride was cheerful. You enjoyed catching up with your friend. It honestly had been so long, and it was just what you needed before you stepped foot into the hell hole that was now your job. She dropped you off with a little wave and you went in, ready to face the day. Thankfully, it was uneventful. It was borderline boring, but you would take boring over the chaos that was yesterday. Still, your coworkers’ eyes were lingering on you as you kept to yourself for the day. You didn’t dare bring any attention to yourself and stepped out of the office when the auto shop called.

            Yep. It wasn’t anything good. For the cost of fixing the car, you might as well buy a new one. You would have to look into the local bus route, or a bike or something. Rubbing your temples, still fighting off your headache, you willed the clock to move.

            Amanda came to pick you up at the end of the day and dropped you off at your apartment. She had offered to spend the evening with you, chat about all the craziness that was going on in your life, but you just wanted to be alone. Your friend warned that isolation wasn’t the answer, but you told her that you were tired and wanted to sleep. It wasn’t a complete lie. Even though you knew you could be yourself around your friend, you didn’t want to fake a smile or even try to problem solve. All you wanted was a good wallow and your favorite movies.

            And that’s exactly what you did. You put on your comfiest clothes and made a blanket nest on the couch and turned on your favorite movie. Being snuggled up and exhausted pulled you into sleep quite easily.

            Again, you woke up in an unfamiliar room. The sun was shining through the window. Everything felt so familiar, like déjà vu, and it hurt you to not recognize why. Literally hurt. Every time you tried to think about it, a shooting pain went through your head, so you tried not to think too hard. You got up from the bed you were in and headed out to what looked like the living room. There was a knock on the door, and you froze.

            You tip toed carefully across the floor, trying to be as quiet as a mouse, and pressed your ear against the door. There was some shuffling, then you heard a voice.

            “Dove, I can hear you on the other side. Come on out! It’s almost noon.”

            Something told you to open the door, even though you did not recognize the voice. You slowly opened it, peeking your head out cautiously and you greeted the tall, dark-haired man with a look of confusion. For a moment, he looked back at you, looking equally as confused until a look of realization spread across his face.

            “Ah. I’m Loki of Asgard.” He smiled at you, before quickly adding, “From the movies.”

            “Do I know you?” He looked so familiar, but you couldn’t place him. You rubbed your temple as you thought about it.

            Loki frowned as he looked down at your timid form, hiding behind the door with zero recognition in your eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, the wheels turning in his mind.

            “Ah, that usually works. Um…” You squinted your eyes at the man who apparently is some actor. Frankly, he looked crazy and so you thought it was best to just close the door. You started to shut the door on him, when his boot jammed itself between the door and the frame, stopping you.

            “Hey, hey, now wait a minute, Dove. You don’t remember me?”

            Between the pounding in your head and his insistent rambling about you two knowing each other, you were so done. So done.

            “Let me close the door!” You snapped. Loki’s eyes went wide. He had seen you upset a couple of times, but never angry. Especially not at him. Each time you woke up in his world, you never remembered him, but you typically found your bearings within a few minutes and with a few key words. It was something that he caught on, very quickly. This was grossly different, and he was concerned. Worried, even. There was no way he was going to give up now.

            “Dove, I am worried about you. I think you need to see the doctor.” He insisted and hoped the worry that was written all over his features would convey his care, but he was still met with the same blank look.

            “You’re a creep! Leave or I will call the cops!” The anxiety was settling in your chest. There was some weirdo, outside of your door, insisting that he knew you and he wouldn’t let you close your door. You were terrified. The little tremble in your voice gave that away.

            “Okay, let me try and help you remember.” He reached forward, pushing his fingers through the crack in your door. The tips of his fingers glowed green as he tried to touch your temple and bring your memories forward. Instead, his plan failed horrible as you shrieked like he was trying to kill you.

            You jumped back from the door, and it flung open. Loki stepped in, his eyes now frantic and his hands flailing wildly in front of him as he tried to assure you that he didn’t mean to harm you.

            “No, no, no, Dove. Everything is fine. I am not here to hurt you.” Still, you kept on screaming and started to chuck things at him. Anything that you could get your hands on, you threw at him with all your strength. Lamps. Plates. The remote. He easily dodged them all, and it freaked you out even more. Who the hell is this guy? Which is what you shouted at him as you threw a drinking glass at him. It shattered on the wall behind him, and he flinched.

            “I told you! I’m Loki! You know me! You brought my mother back. Frigga! You were a prisoner here and and and,” He stammered as he rambled on, his own anxiety was sky high, “You told me you like to bake. We made cookies! Your, uh, your car broke down!”

            That stopped you. “How do you know about my car?”

            Loki let out a sigh of relief, thankful that your onslaught stopped at least temporarily, “You told me. You had a bad day at work and then your car broke down.” He looked at you with such hope in his eyes. He so badly wanted you to remember, but none of that mattered to you.

            “Stalker!!” You screeched before running into the kitchen, now desperate for some sort of protection. There was a butcher block on the counter, and you pulled out a large knife, pointing it at Loki. “Get out now!”

            Just as Loki opened his mouth to say something to you, more people piled into the room you were in, tripping over the broken debris on the floor. There were several people in black outfits and a very large man with blonde hair. The people in black all had guns and you froze, fear taking over your body and rendering you immobile. Your heart raced as you still held the knife up in your trembling hand, the tip still pointed at Loki.

            “What is going on here?” The blonde man asked Loki.

            “She doesn’t remember anything.” Loki replied. But, just as quickly as that little exchange happened, the people in black spotted the knife in your hand and drew their guns on you.

            “Put the knife down!” Voices rang out, echoing the same command over and over again. Your eyes darted all over from Loki to the guns that had fingers ready to pull the trigger and kill you.

            “You put your guns down, now!” Loki roared, stepping right in front of you and the line of fire, “She is under the protection of New Asgard and if you dare harm her, you won’t live long enough to regret it.” His tone left no room for questioning. You had no idea who this guy was, but you knew he was a force to be reckoned with. All the guns were lowered immediately, and Loki turned to face you. You were shaking uncontrollably, and you knew he was speaking to you, but you didn’t hear anything. It was all static.

            You felt wetness on your face and the hand not holding the knife shot up to your face. Your nose was bleeding. Just as you saw the red on your fingertips, everything went black.

            The next time you opened your eyes, all you saw white. Blinding white. You squinted as you tried to adjust to the bright light. Everything felt groggy and hazy. There was a sharpness in your arm as you tried to move it. You heard faint beeping.

            “Shh, shh, Dove. Don’t try to move.” You turned your head towards the voice. The blurry image of someone standing near you came into focus. It looked like he wanted to reach out, to touch you, but he stopped himself.

            “Loki?” You hoarsely whispered.

            “Oh, thank the Norns!” Loki was at your side in an instant, cupping your hand between both of his large ones.

            “What happened? Why does my arm hurt?” You had to close your eyes, the brightness too much.

            “They are giving you an IV. Try not to move your arm.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and you returned it, “You….didn’t remember me.”

            “Again?” That made him laugh, but it sounded sad, if a laugh could sound sad.

            “Yes, again, but nothing I did helped. You panicked, Dove and you collapsed.” He let out a shuddered breath, his voice becoming shaky as he tried to articulate what happened, “Your nose was bleeding, and you were convulsing on the floor.” There was a long moment of silence and it forced you to open your eyes to look at him. He wasn’t looking at you, instead, his head was down, and his own eyes were focused on your joined hands. “You stopped breathing, Dove.”

            He looked at you, like you weren’t really there, like you were a figment of his imagination. Tears were now falling freely down his face. You went to lift your hand, to wipe away the tears, but the IV in your arm made you wince and quickly lower it. He flashed you a watery smile, clearly trying to put on a brave face.

            “I am okay, Dove. I am just glad you are okay. You scared me.” With each word, you saw Loki’s wall build up brick by brick. “That was really quite rude.” He teased.

            “I’m sorry that I scared you, Mischief.” You squeezed his hand again, your body aching and immobile, but it was at least something, “Good thing this is a dream.”

            He frowned and looked at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out what to say, “This isn’t a dr-“

            Before he could finish, Dr. Strange came into the room, carrying a clipboard while still in his sorcerer’s garb. The look was oddly humorous to you, so you let a laugh slip out.

            “Ah, you’re awake! I am glad you find me amusing,” Strange grinned, peeking over the clipboard as he flipped through its contents, “How are you feeling?”

            You shifted a bit in the bed, now realizing how stiff your body felt, “I’m tired. Sore. I have a bit of a headache.”

            Strange nodded, before pulling up a stool and taking a seat on the other side of your bed, across from Loki. “You had a pretty bad seizure, Y/N. You’re lucky you were in the tower and that we were able to treat you quickly. Your heart stopped and we had to resuscitate you.” You felt Loki’s hand gripped yours just a bit tighter after Strange said that.

“You’re lucky to have him,” The doctor jutted his chin out to Loki, and you stiffly turned your head to look at the God who still held your hand like it was the most precious thing to him. “He carried you here, likely saved your life.”

            You smiled at Loki, and he smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. This was the saddest you had ever seen him. The thoughts in your brain were still a bit scrambled as you tried to process why that was, but Strange brought your focus back to him.

            “Your mind cannot handle your unintentional dream walking between the multiverses. It is causing you to have seizures.” Those words might as well have been in another language to you. Everything was jumbled.

            “What?” Your eyes darted back and forth, as you tried to focus, but it proved fruitless.

            Strange cleared his throat, “I’m sorry. Things may be a bit confusing for you right now, so I will try to explain this as simply as I can. When you dream, you come here. Your mind can’t handle that, and it is affecting your body.”

            You closed your eyes, still feeling incredibly groggy. “But I like being here.” Strange and Loki shared a look as you stilled.

            “What will happen to her?” Loki asked, looking down at your frail body. He had come to your room to take you on a trip around New York, but everything went downhill so quickly. From your screams, to the guns being drawn, to you collapsing on the floor. Loki could count on one hand the times he was genuinely terrified. That moment was now added to that list.

            You dropped like a sack of potatoes on the floor, blood pouring from your nose like a faucet. Loki was at your side in an instant, but his hand flew away from your body as soon as you started to twitch, convulse then stiffen in unnatural positions on the floor. Your eyes rolled back in your head and blood started to come from the side of your mouth from biting your tongue. Loki had never seen anything like this in his thousands of years of life, and it scared him, but when your face turned blue  - that was when he truly became terrified.

            “What’s happening to her?!” He called out, absolutely at a loss of what to do, “She’s not breathing!” He quickly tried to summon his magic to try and help you. He knew it was a long shot to start off with. Usually, he needed to know what was wrong to heal you, but he would try anything now to stop whatever was happening to you. He was desperate to fix you. Green sparks started and stopped as they misfired on his fingertips. He was so anxious and distraught; he couldn’t use his magic properly.

            He turned to Thor and the group of Shield Agents behind him and yelled out, tears in his eyes, “Someone help her!!”

            One of the agents ran over to you, and quickly turned you on your side to try and help you breathe. They looked at their watch, timing how long your seizure was, and as more time passed, they became more and more concerned.

            “You’re not doing anything!” Loki yelled at the agent next to him.

            They didn’t look at him, but they winced at his loudness, “There isn’t anything we can do right now, but wait.”

            After a few minutes, your body fell limp, but you still weren’t breathing. The agent put two fingers on your pulse point, “Their heart stopped. We have to get them to the Med Bay right now!” Loki didn’t need any other instruction. He scooped you up in his arms and bolted down the hall and down several stairs, not wanting to wait for an elevator. He considered teleporting you, but he didn’t know if your fragile body could handle that. He couldn’t risk you.

            There were some medics in the room, but no doctors that Loki recognized. He put you down on the gurney, calling desperately for help as people swarmed around you. They tried to get him to leave, but he remained unmoved, insisting that he stay near you. It was something he immediately regretted as he watched them try to bring life back into your little body. One of the medics placed the paddles of the defibrillator to your chest and with a shock, your body bolted off the table. Your heartrate remained flatlined and your body was eerily still.

            Loki couldn’t help but think of your time together in the kitchen just a few hours before. How playful you were and how you ran your fingers through his hair. Now you were dying. Or dead. He covered his mouth as he started to sob, the feeling of helplessness wrecking him to his core.

            Again, they shocked you, your chest lifting off the table. Loki waited, holding his own breath as he prayed to the Norns for your breath to return. The flatlined remained. Loki could see the shared looks among the medical team. They weren’t optimistic, but again they placed the paddles on your body. With one last shock, Loki finally heard that sweet sound.

            Your heartbeat registered on the monitor.

            “Loki?” Dr. Strange’s voice pulled Loki from his memories, and he was thankful for that as tears threatened to spill over.

            “Yes, I am sorry, Doctor. Can you please repeat that?”

            “If this continues,” Strange swallowed thickly as he looked down at your resting form, “She will die. I am looking into the mystical texts to see if there is anything we can do to help her, to stop this from happening. I’m sorry. I will be checking on her progress, please let the nurses know if anything changes and I will keep you informed of my findings.”

            Loki and Dr. Strange were never on good terms, but the God appreciated his kindness and mercy he was now freely giving. All Loki did was nod, and Strange left without another word.

            “Loki?” Your voice croaked. Loki winced, unsure of how much of that you heard or understood.

            “Yes, Dove?”

            “Lay with me?” Loki looked at the narrow hospital bed, but he could hardly resist your request. He walked on the other side of you, to avoid the IVs that were still connected to your small arm, and he climbed in right next to you. He wrapped a loose arm around your waist, and you turned your head towards him. Your eyes remained close, but you gave him a sleepy smile that warmed his heart. He wondered if this is what waking up next to you was like. The thought simultaneously made him happy, yet so incredibly sad.

            His time with you was limited.

            It wasn’t his intention to get attached to you, but something about you drew him to you. You came crashing into his life, turning it upside down by bringing his mother back from the grave, and has since filled his life with unrelenting acceptance and selflessness. It was something he never thought he deserved, but you told him he did deserve it. And he believed you.

            “I had a hell of a day, Mischief.” You said, your voice drowsy and slurring.

            Loki laughed, “You sure did, Dove.” When the doctor spoke to you, the words were all jumbled, but with Loki, it was crystal clear.

            “Work was fine, but the auto shop called. My car is totaled, and I can’t afford another one. I’m so worried.” Loki studied your features as he listened to you. He realized that you had no recollection of what happened in the Tower earlier that day. While he was thankful that you were spared the trauma of that, he couldn’t help but worry more.

            “Maybe I can ask the Man of Iron to give you a car. He has too many as it is.” Loki decided to play along, not seeing the point in causing you stress or confusing you. He didn’t know how long he had with you, so he wanted to make sure that time with you was happy.

            You laughed a bit, and it brought a twinge of joy to Loki’s heart on this sad day, “That wouldn’t work. You’re in my dream. You’re not in my world.”

            “I will find you then.”

            As you laid next to Loki, wrapped up in his arms, you became more and more sleepy. You yawned a little bit and you felt Loki’s arm grip you tighter. You didn’t see the fear that was in his eyes that your yawn brought him, “I am sure you would, Mischief. Will you do something for me?”

            “Anything.”

            “Kiss me.”

            Loki’s heart fluttered in his chest, “What?”

            Your smile grew wider, your eyes remaining closed, “I always wondered what it would be like.”

            “Are you not worried about your lover? Uh, Stephen?”

            You shook your head, “No. As my friend said, dreams don’t count. And besides...” You peeked open one eye to look at the man next to you. His curls were all around his head on the white hospital pillow. The blue of his eyes was sparkling as they stared back at you, “I would leave him for you in a heartbeat.”

            “You- you w-would?” Loki stammered. You didn’t register his tone of disbelief, and only hummed a bit in confirmation, letting your eyes slip close again.

            Loki licked his lips, his eyes flicking down to mouth. He scooched himself a bit closer to you, his hand gripping your waist just a bit tighter. There was nothing more than he wanted to do than drag you right into his chest, but the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor reminded him that he had to be careful with you. You, his fragile mortal.

            His lips ghosted over yours, lighting brushing against your soft, sensitive skin. Finally, after one lats moment of hesitation, he closed the distance between the two of you. It was gentle, sweet, and tender. You strained your neck to push your lips harder against his, trying to deepen the kiss. The heartrate monitor was beeping wildly as your heart thudded in your chest. Loki heard it after getting lost in the kiss and broke away from you.

            You smiled contently, “That was nice. Like everything I had dreamed.” You laughed a bit at your joke, and again you yawned, nestling closer into your pillow, and drinking in the man that laid next to you one last time before you closed your eyes again.

            “Don’t leave me, Dove. Stay with me.” His words were pleading, and you missed the tears that were falling onto the bed next to you. Little did you know, the thought of your death was making a God crumble to pieces.

            But his begging fell on deaf ears as you fell into a deep sleep. As soon as he heard your quiet snores, he choked out a sob, burying his face into your shoulder.

            He had to figure out how to save you.

---------

Unicorns:

@theawkwardavenger @nonsensicalobsessions @purplekitten30 @lostgreekgod @slytherinintj13 @huntress-artemiss @midnights-ramblings @xorpsbane @ravenmailey @vbecker10 @lazulifoster @winterfrostsarmy @ada17h @lokisprettygirl22 @theaudacitytowrite @lokis-little-love @themorningsunshine @strawberry-canyon @howdidurhammergrowchris @michelleleewise @80strashbag @roseeatta

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Hi and congratulations for the milestone!! 🎉🎉

I did promise I’d take the wheel for a spin and it must be fate because this came up:

It seems fitting, that man is known for his talents with his mouth, tongue and fingers 🥴🥴

I’ll leave you with a question to go with the result (feel free to ignore if it doesn’t tickle your fancy); how long does he last until Frankie has to have a taste?

Congrats 🎉❤️

Ohhhhh frick, how could I POSSIBLY ignore that question?? Because now my head is simply reeling with HOT THOTS about Frankie Morales, finally eating you out, after you tease him endlessly.

And, of course because this is Frankie, I have to tip my hat to the seminal masterwork of “All Hail the King” by Kat @pilothusband, without which we would not have the headcanon of Frankie Morales as the pussy-eating king, which we all now know as gospel...

Thank you for helping me celebrate! There’s some real hot stuff under the cut, people!

The Game

Word count: 4500

Outline: Frankie Morales x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Mature/Explicit, 18+ only; mature and vulgar language; mentions of making out; teasing Frankie; one mention of oral sex/M receiving; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; Frankie has a FILTHY praise-kink mouth; Frankie going primal caveman on your pussy when he finally gets there

You’ve been on two previous dates with Frankie, and each one has ended in some truly smashing makeout sessions. The man is an excellent kisser, and it’s been so long since you had that, you’ve gone a little crazy with just kissing on your first two dates.

On your first date he took you out for a drive to the scenic overlook, and after an hour of good conversation, the sun had set low behind the ocean and you made out like teenagers in the cab of his truck for another hour.

Date two was an action movie, and since the theater was practically deserted when you sat down, you got a wicked idea. You tickled your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and invited him to join you in the back row, and you made out again for all 105 minutes of explosions and punching. Neither one of you remembers the plot.

Tonight is date three, and after an early dinner out, you’ve decided that it’s time to invite Frankie back to your place to see what else he can do with that talented tongue.

You pour him a cold drink and he sits on your couch, but neither one of you really wants to talk. There’s too much electricity in the air. Your head is fuzzy with want. You’ve been able to kiss him plenty, but you haven’t had the chance to do more. And then you get another idea, a leftover ‘game’ from your teenage years, something that was hot back then when you played it with your boyfriends… maybe it still works?

“Do you want to play a game?” You slip your feet out of your sandals and tuck one leg under you to swivel toward him on the couch. You smile at this handsome, sweet man with your most secret smile and bite your lip as he frowns and looks at your bookshelf full of board games.

“You mean like Scrabble?” His confusion is adorable, and you giggle as you move closer to him on the couch, your voice low… “Not like Scrabble.” You flutter your eyelashes up at him and now his frown is gone, replaced by a look of interest.

“What kind of game did you have in mind, pretty girl?” And now he looks very interested, his broad hand coming up to your shoulder to stroke your arm, pulling you closer for a kiss. But you don’t let him pull you in all the way, you stop a few inches from his face and whisper… “A naughty game.”

And now you can see the sheer hunger in his eyes. The way his pupils flare and his deep coffee eyes fix onto your lips. He tries to go in for a kiss and you pull away, just out of reach. You hold up one finger and place it to his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

You smile up at him from under your lashes. “That’s the game.”

“I have to chase you?” He flicks his eyebrows up, not looking impressed.

“No. We try to get as close as we can, but we can’t touch. We tease each other, just to see how long we can hold out.”

He chuckles. “That’s a terrible game.”

“You don’t think anticipation is hot? How about this… what do you want to do to me the most? If you play my game you might get to do it.”

He looks less skeptical now. He glances at your lips, then back to your eyes, before his gaze trails down, down, down your body. You shiver, and from his look alone, you feel hot and cold all at once.

You’re starting to think this might be… well, not “dangerous,” just more of an experience than the last time you played, which was at an age where the absolute wildest possibility was that you would get to feel a boy’s hand on the outside of your bra.

You bite your lip and blink with nervous anticipation, waiting for him to take the bait. He could decide right now not to play and you would still let him ravish you, let him put his mouth and hands and dick wherever he wants. You would welcome it.

He meets your eyes again, and you hold your breath, feeling a heat creep up to your cheeks and down to your cunt at the same time. His whole body is still, except for the rise and fall of his chest, moving breaths slowly in and out, and his big brown eyes that blink occasionally as he considers you with a thoughtful expression.

This is torture, waiting for his answer. You’re about to break first, tell Frankie he doesn’t have to play your silly game, when he moves just his mouth. His bottom lip opens a crack, and his tongue slides out of the corner and sweeps across that plush, velvety top lip, half-hidden under his scruffy mustache.

He moves the tip of his tongue slowly, deliberately, keeping his eyes fixed on your face... watching you watch his mouth. You suddenly realize that this is his opening move, he’s playing your game already, and he’s playing you as well. You set the rules, and he’s already winning.

You release a shaky breath and scoot an inch closer on the couch. You flick the tip of your tongue out, letting it wet your bottom lip. You bring your lower lip in between your teeth and bite down hard, watching Frankie’s eyes drift to your mouth. You release your lip from between your teeth and then exhale a sigh and a breathy moan of, “Hmm…”

You reach your hand up to open the top button of your thin cardigan, the one you like to wear because it’s your color and it’s soft and it fits you like a dream. But it’s also the one that you wear on third dates on purpose, with no blouse underneath it - just a lacy bra and a heart full of hope pounding in your chest.

He watches your fingers with that hungry look resurfacing, the one that made your stomach flip a moment ago. He scoots closer to you, closing the gap until his denim-clad leg is a centimeter from your knee, one arm draped over the back of the couch, thick fingers resting just an inch from your shoulder.

No touching, you had said. Frankie is making it clear to you that he knows the rules and will play them to their limits. He reaches up to the neck of his denim shirt, the top two snaps already open, and then he unsnaps two more. The neck of his shirt falls open, and the amber light from the lamp scatters across the planes of his neck and clavicles. You can’t tear your eyes away from his golden skin, and you feel the emptiness of your pussy as it starts to leak into your panties.

Frankie holds himself still, waiting for your next move. You aren’t sure what to do next, and truthfully your brain went completely blank the moment you caught sight of Frankie’s chest. You decide to raise the stakes. You get up from the couch, moving to stand in front of Frankie where he sits. His deep brown eyes are watching you intently, smoldering as he takes in your form just an arm’s length away. His gaze skates from your face to your breasts to your hips and back up, and you wait until his eyes come to a stop before you make your move.

You reach up to the second button of your cardigan and open it, then the next one. You see Frankie’s eyes go wide, pupils flaring black as he realizes what you’re doing. You fight the giddiness that surges up inside you, forcing your face to remain as neutral as possible. You see Frankie’s cock twitch once in his jeans, and you are delirious with the sudden realization that you’re holding quite a lot of power over this gorgeous man.

Your fingers continue their dance down your buttons until all of them are free, and then you grab the lapels of your cardigan. Frankie’s eyes flick to your hands where they hover at your breasts, and you pause, drawing the moment out for as long as you deem just short of cruel. You open the cardigan and shed it from your shoulders, tossing it on the couch seat you just vacated.

Frankie takes a sharp breath in, and his eyes flutter closed for just a moment. When he opens them again his brown irises are nearly blown black with arousal, and you almost feel bad for escalating the game this far. You take three steps backward toward the hallway, curling your finger to draw Frankie up off the couch. You break the silence with one word, “Bedroom.”

He surges up off the couch so quickly that you think he’s decided to break, to just grab you and pounce on you and end the game. But instead he halts a foot away, and looks deep into your eyes with a smirk. Something like a warning in the back of your brain tickles, uh-oh.

Frankie starts to undress, and as you see more of his golden skin in the low lamplight, you start to think that you might concede first. He sheds his baseball cap, then his shirt, tugging the remaining snaps open with a single pull. You drink in the sight of his naked torso, the soft patches of hair that mimic his delectable facial scruff, the breadth of his wide shoulders, and the curve of his abdomen where it meets his waistband. There’s a faint trail of hair that leads down, and now you’re dying to follow it where it leads.

He toes his work boots off, then opens the fly of his jeans. He pulls them down and off with his socks, and now he’s standing in your living room, clad only in a pair of black boxer-briefs, the soft cotton fabric doing a valiant job of containing his massive erection. You fight the urge to sink down to your knees and rip his underwear off, shove your mouth down onto his cock, see how deep you can take him. You hear yourself shudder as you inhale, nearly a sob, and it echoes in the silence and stillness of the room. Frankie looks pleased with himself, coiled and waiting for your next move. He must know how close you are to breaking.

You take another few steps backwards, keeping your eyes on Frankie as he follows you down the short hallway to your bedroom. You open your jeans as you cross the threshold, pushing them down along with your underwear and kicking them off into a corner. You reach behind you to unclasp your bra, and Frankie pauses to watch you, hands braced on either side of the doorway where he stands, his corded neck and shoulders tensed. You reach up to one shoulder and slowly pull the strap down. Then you do the same to the other strap, moving deliberately, watching Frankie’s ears go slightly pink as he clenches his jaw. You stand with your back to the wall, and you rest your back and shoulders against it, no longer trusting your watery knees to hold you upright. Then you tip your jaw up at Frankie. Your move.

Frankie crosses the room swiftly, long legs eating up the distance between you. He braces each large hand on the wall on either side of your head, then leans in closer, caging you in. His dark eyes fix on yours, and for just a moment you forget how to breathe. His gorgeous hooked nose is just an inch from yours, and if you tilted your head up you could bump noses, engage him in a kiss. But you’re not ready to give in just yet.

You gaze into the liquid cocoa pools, and inhale as silently as you can through your nose, smelling the clean cotton scent of Frankie’s detergent as it mixes with the masculine musk of his deodorant, the expanse of his tawny skin giving off its own salty hints. You feel a sharp twinge between your legs, another clench of your pussy, and now that’s all you can think about. You’re throbbing and wet, hot and getting hotter.

You press your thighs together in a futile attempt to relieve the ache, but it only makes it worse. You exhale and it comes out on the back of a whine, a faint noise that you know Frankie hears, because his expression changes to hunger again, mixed with a secret and knowing smile that tells you that you’re in deep trouble with this man. You have underestimated him, and you’re going to learn that lesson in a very memorable way.

Frankie is sweet and kind, soft-spoken and gentlemanly. You try to think back to what you assumed would happen when you proposed this little game, that maybe he would get a little bit horny, play along with you for a few minutes, and then pretend to give in just to get his arms around you. Instead, you seem to have awakened a strategist, someone who is used to making important calculations toward an end goal. You mistook Frankie’s softness for something it definitely is not, and now you’re regretting having challenged him. He’s not going to go easy on you.

Your stomach does that sick roller-coaster thing that it does sometimes, and you feel your heartbeat kick up a notch as Frankie uses those sharp eyes of his to inspect you. His penetrating stare moves from your eyes to your lips, which part involuntarily, an invitation to kiss you if he dares to give in first. He breathes slowly through his nose as his eyes trail down to your breasts and back up, taking in every inch of your bare skin. You feel like you’re being strangled by his gaze, but it is delicious.

Frankie takes his hands off the wall and then drops slowly to his knees. You look down at him in surprise. He opens his mouth and his voice is low and commanding. “Hands above your head for me, sweetheart.”

You lift your chin level with the floor and lace your fingers over your head, leaning harder into the wall with your shoulders. Your heart thrums in your chest, a steady tattoo that reminds you that you’re alive, but that also makes you feel very close to passing out. You try to remind yourself to breathe, breathe, breathe. You widen your legs just a bit for stability, and you hear Frankie chuckle low in his throat.

He starts talking, and were it not for the wall holding you up, you swear that you would buckle to the ground as he bathes you with his delicious, filthy monologue.

“Did you know,” Frankie intones, his voice raspy with desire, “... that you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen?”

You rush an exhale out through your mouth, and suck a great heaving breath back in. He’s only just started, and you’re not at all sure that you’re going to survive this. You dare to tilt your head to look down at Frankie, but his eyes are not on yours, they’re staring intently at your pubic mound. He’s transfixed, the secret smile gone as he stares between your legs.

“In fact, I think that this might be... the most tempting pussy that I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at. I could just bury my face in her right now.”

You feel like you can’t breathe, and you lace your fingers tighter behind your head as you stare down at Frankie’s soft curls, his nose just inches from your sex, his tongue dripping honey as you feel yourself getting wetter. Frankie continues his dirty talk, spilling the gorgeous, filthy words right into the center of your being.

“I would definitely like to taste her, see how she drips for me when she really gets going. Do you drip or do you squirt, honey?”

You clench your butt muscles and lean your shoulders even harder against the wall, a desperate attempt to stay upright as your knees threaten to give out. An involuntary whine slips out from your lips, and Frankie tilts his head to look up at you, that mischievous smile curving back across his lush lips.

“Would you like that, darlin’? Would you like me to eat you out?”

You bite your lips hard and struggle to stay standing. All you want to do is give in, collapse down onto Frankie and let him have his way with you. You feel another new rush of slickness hit your center and you almost break. Not yet, your brain whispers. Just wait...

Frankie turns his face back to your pelvis and then braces his hands on the wall, so close to your hips that you can feel the warmth emanating off his skin. But again, not touching you, he’s staying within the rules that you set for him. He’s too good at this, and now you know that you’re definitely going to lose.

Frankie slowly leans forward, bending his elbows to move his face closer and closer to your crotch. His nose comes an inch away, then half an inch. For a moment you hope that he will slip and make contact and lose, but he doesn’t. He has excellent muscle control and his arms don't even quiver as he finally stops, hovering just a centimeter in front of your cunt. You are wetter than you ever have been, and you swear that you can feel it leaking down the inside of your leg, trailing down your thigh as Frankie tortures you.

His voice is a whisper now, velvety and soft, and you strain to hear him above the rushing of your own heartbeat in your ears.

“You smell amazing, honey.” He closes his eyes and inhales, taking your scent into himself like you’re the sweetest flower at the farmer’s market.

It hits you suddenly that this is the most debauched, most intimate thing you’ve ever done with a lover. No man has ever dared to just smell you like this, and you feel something twist inside the bowl of your pelvis, like a spring being wound tighter. You realize that you’re not breathing, and you open your mouth into a little o-shape to take a slow, cooling breath into your lungs. You regain your steadiness and settle deeper into yourself to try to hold out, to hang in there just a little longer.

“I bet that you taste like heaven, pretty girl. I can’t wait to fuck you on my tongue, lick you inside and out.”

Frankie leans back and looks up at you with a wink. “After you touch me first and lose, I’m going to lick this pussy so hard that you come six times while you scream my name.”

You gurgle out a surprised, “Oh!”

Frankie sits back on his heels and stands back up, a little triumphant, like he knows how close he pushed you to the edge.

You release your hands and place your palms flat on the wall by your hips, not trusting them to hang loose at your sides, lest they decide to reach out and skim over his broad shoulders of their own accord. You look up at Frankie where he hovers over you, and you lick your lips and whisper to him.

“Frankie, I want you. Please touch me.”

He arches one eyebrow at you. “Does that mean you want the game to end? Are you giving up?”

You close your eyes and shake your head no, and for a moment you’re not sure if you’re even capable of playing the game any longer. Your head is fuzzy and your skin is screaming to be touched. You take a deep breath in and then out, and when you open your eyes Frankie is looking at you with concern.

“Do you give up, sweetheart? Or do you want to keep playing?”

You choke out a strangled whisper, the barest hint of speech. “I want… I want…”

Frankie comes closer, bracing himself on the wall again, big arms boxing you in as he moves into your space. He tilts his head down and murmurs, “Tell me.”

You look up into his eyes and the whole room tilts to the left. All you can see is Frankie, and he’s all that matters while the rest of the world spins dizzy around you. You feel sick with anticipation, and you know that this is your fault, that you were the one who proposed this stupid torturous game in the first place.

You just want it to end, you need it to end now.

“Frankie, I… I want…”

“You want me to eat you out? Stick my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy and fuck you with it until you come? Is that it?”

He leans closer and still doesn’t touch you, just keeps stringing you along with his depraved poetry as he tilts his head to hover an inch from your ear.

“Or maybe you want me to finger-fuck you, too? Stretch you open and see how good it feels? I bet we can make your pussy squirt, make you gush around my hand when I reach deep inside and hit your g-spot. I bet you’ll soak the bed, you sweet thing. Maybe squirt clear across the room.”

“Oh god.” You whine and duck your chin, trying to resist the urge to turn your head toward him and make contact, kiss him and then let him go wild, do all the things he’s been threatening to do.

“Frankie, I…”

“You what, sweetheart?” His tone is just this side of mocking, and it makes your cunt clench.

“I need…”

Frankie pulls his head away from your ear and looks you directly in the eyes.

“Use your words pretty girl.” His voice has an edge now, firm, sounding like a direct order. “Tell me what you need.”

“I- I want, I need… I need you inside of me. I want you everywhere, Frankie.”

“Yeah? You need me, sweet girl? You need Frankie to take care of you?”

Your face crumples, a whine of pure desire making your throat ache. Your pussy drools another bit of slick down your inner thigh. You want to cry, and Frankie frowns at you with genuine concern.

“I can take care of you, sweetheart. Anything you want, you just say the word. But first…” He leans his head down lower, lower, lower and stops, his warm breath fanning over your lips as he whispers.

“... first you have to touch me.”

You moan at that, the unfair knowledge that all you have to do to get everything you want is to give in. And he’s so close, his nose just a centimeter from yours. All you would have to do is lean up, kiss him, and-

Frankie abruptly pushes off the wall and takes two steps back from you. The sudden absence of him makes something in you snap. You rush at him and practically knock him over, kissing him with a snarl and wrapping your arms and legs around him as he laughs in surprise. He braces both big hands under your bottom and half-carries you to your bed.

He plops you down on the bedspread and then leans down over you as you kiss and kiss and kiss him. Now that the dam has broken, you’re not sure you’re ever going to stop, and you don’t give a flying fuck that you just lost at your own game. As far as you’re concerned you won, because you’re naked on your bed with Frankie laying over you, his hard cock pressing against your wet seam through his boxers.

You open your legs wide and wrap them around Frankie’s waist, and he kisses you before pulling back with a gentle shush against your lips.

“Wait wait, pretty girl. We’re not gonna fuck yet. I gotta eat you out first.”

“No Frankie, please. Please just fuck me.” You clutch and grasp at him, trying to pull him into you. He braces himself on his arms and hovers maddeningly over your face as he smiles.

“No, baby. You said if I played your game you would let me do what I wanted. You lost. I win.”

Frankie moves his mouth to your ear and whispers. “I get to eat your pussy until you’re screaming my name.”

You moan, a high-pitched cry of defeat. You want him inside of you now, not a moment longer. You’ve been tortured and taunted long enough, and you haven’t even gotten a glimpse of his cock, other than to see the impressive way that his erection fills out the contours of his boxer-briefs.

Frankie kisses you and tells you to release your legs, and then he stands up and wraps his big hands around your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor and looks up to your face with a wicked smile, the look of a man who is about to enjoy his victory over you.

You try to remind yourself that you lost, fair and square, and now your punishment is that you will have to wait to feel Frankie’s huge cock stretching you open. You’re going to have to take your punishment like a good girl.

Frankie pushes your legs up and back toward your chest, and you hook your hands behind your knees to hold them open. He takes the first tentative lick of your clit, and you cry a soft “Oh!” and toss your head back.

Frankie’s fingers stroke your outer labia, top to bottom, and he spreads you open with his fingertips. You feel the cool air hit your slick, and then the hot swipe of his tongue through your folds. This is torture, you think, but only as much as I deserve.

Frankie licks your clit gently before suddenly surging into you tongue-first, going as deep as he can, licking into you deeply. He curls his tongue up as he withdraws, and he hits the bundle of nerves on the underside of your clit. He does it again and again and again, and before you can warn him that you’re about to come, you’re shuddering and breaking apart in his mouth.

Frankie eases two big fingers into you and you’re grateful for the thickness of them, giving your muscles something to clench and squeeze around while Frankie softly licks your clit, working you through your climax. When you finally relax your legs, he sucks your clit into his mouth and then releases you with a smack of his lips.

“That’s one, pretty girl, but I didn’t hear you scream my name. We’ll see if you can do that with any of the other five.”

Frankie dives back into you face-first, and fulfills all of his threats from the game.

---

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick

[ikeromantic]

Aww it makes me so sad to see that Isaac isn’t requested much :(( if you aren’t too busy, could you write a story where the reader is actually a physicist and so at first, when Isaac isn’t paying much attention to her arrival at the mansion, the reader is just so awestruck of him that she’d take her chances living with vampires just to see his work in real time (and it helps that she finds everyone there quite funny). And then Isaac slowly realizes that the reader actually knows what she’s talking about and starts to seek her presence whenever he’s doing work? And it just turns into a huge pining situation where eventually he’s just so enamored by the reader, probably more enamored than the reader is with him? Please feel free to take any liberties with the story and any details in between!! Thank you :)

I love writing Isaac. Have I mentioned that before? Hm. Well, this one came out longer than intended and I can't be sorry ^_^ 4500 words of longing and fluffy fullfillment.

Isaac felt her eyes on him every time he left his lab or the privacy of his room. Watching him like some hungry wolf at the edges of his enforced solitude. He thought if he ignored her, she might go away. Find someone else to stare at. But no. She followed him from a distance through the hall, pretending interest in a book she held. Yet he could feel her eyes on him.

It was entirely too much. Newton turned, his cherry blossom eyes dark with anger. “What do you want?”

She regarded him calmly. “I’m sorry? I was just reading.” She raised the book in her hands slightly. “Hawking is simply fascinating.” 

“I’m sure he is. That doesn’t excuse the way you are always following me. Watching me. Pretend to read if you like, but do it someplace else!”

“I’d rather not. Le Comte says I can go where I like in the mansion. If it happens to be where you are . . . well, that’s not my fault.” 

Isaac pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look. Girl. I am asking you as nicely as I can. Please. Go away! You are distracting me and it’s slowing my studies. Just today, I was on the cusp of a new theorem describing . . .” He searched for the right word, “relativity of gravitational mechanisms.”

She smiled. “Einstein’s theory of special relativity then? But honestly, you could probably skip to general relativity and fill in the rest by reading through his research.”

“Einstein? Who is that? What are you going on about?”

“The basis of his work is really an outgrowth of Principia. I think you’d enjoy it. I have a book you can borrow if you like. Or we could sit down over a coffee and -”

Isaac scowled. “Is this some attempt to get in my good graces? No. I’m not interested in whatever you are attempting. I’m not here to make friends. Now leave me alone.”

Her smile fell. “Fine. If you like, Sir Newton.”

He could tell by her tone that her feelings were quite hurt. He felt . . . guilty over it. But really, he told himself, it was her own fault. Invading his space, his quiet, and then parading some tidbit of future fluff to taunt him. Isaac watched her stalk past him and down the stairs. At least this would mean an end to her haunting him, he hoped.

The next few days proved him right. She still brought by his meals and snacks, but she left them at his door. Her familiar presence disappeared from his walks through the garden and his movements in the mansion’s endless halls. Isaac found himself checking for her, but she was never there. Which was good. Jolly good. Yes. He was alone again, as he wished.

Nearly a week passed before he ran across her again, in the library this time. Chatting excitedly with Leonardo. They’d set out a great chalk board and there were equations scribbled across it in cramped writing. 

Isaac couldn’t help the way his eye was drawn to it. Reading through the signs and variables with an academic’s hunger. His brows rose as the formulae began to come together for him. He turned to the Italian. “What’s this you’re studying now?”

Leo grinned. “Not me. Cara, here, has some fascinating ideas. Never thought about time as a physical force, hey?”

“I can’t take credit. Hawking’s work is phenomenal. Of course, I’d love to figure out the exception le Comte’s door exploits. If the nature of physical laws denies the possibility of backward travel in time, I shouldn’t be here. Yet I am.” She laughed, the sound as pure and clear as the chime of a bell.

Isaac could not help but smile. There was something about her that made him feel warm. But the expression fell away a heartbeat later. Was this another ploy of hers to get a look at his research? Pretending an expertise to get into his confidence? He turned to leave.

“Hey! Why don’t you stick around? Might be fun, the three of us figuring out the universe, right?” Leonardo’s amber eyes were crinkled at the sides with his wide smile. 

She was smiling too, her head tilted a bit to the side.

For some reason, their encouragement set him on edge. “I really must go.” His response was stiff, and he hurried out before they could say anything else. The library door slammed shut behind him. 

Laughter followed him down the hall, merry and bright, sweet as sunlight. He reached his room and closed the door on all of it. In the quiet, he tried to regain his composure. Truly, the girl was some sort of witch. She’d even got Leonardo under her spell. But Isaac was no pureblood layabout. He had his research and no need of company. He wasn’t tempted. Not in the least. He resolved to ignore her even more thoroughly.

His mind, however, refused the directive. He sat with his pen poised above his notes, the ink drying uselessly on the nib as his thoughts drifted back to her smile and her voice, and her wit. She was smart enough, learned enough, to ensnare da Vinci. Perhaps, a small voice in him argued, perhaps she was worth a conversation?

Isaac tried to silence it, but the idea wouldn’t go away. He realized that to get anything done, he’d need to oblige. One conversation. She’d show her knowledge to be shallow, reveal her intention, and then he could forget about her interference. Simple.

That evening, when he heard his tray settle on the floor beyond his door, he sprang up and threw the door open. Poor Sebas fell back, wide-eyed. 

“You?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Is something wrong?”

Isaac scanned the hall, but she was nowhere in sight. 

“Perhaps you are looking for the girl?” Sebas’ mouth curled in a slight smile.

“Why would you say that?” 

“A guess?” He shrugged. “I apologize for the assumption. But if you were looking for her, she’s gone to town. Meeting with some school boys, I understand.”

“School boys?” Isaac took a breath, trying to force down a rising sense of . . . worry? Yes, worry. A young, objectively attractive (not that he found her so, of course!) woman shouldn’t be wandering town alone. Especially not to meet ruffians from some Parisian college.

Sebastian nodded. “She dearly wanted to attend the college, but with no sponsor and her being female . . . well, she settled for a correspondence with some of the natural philosophy students. Today they are meeting at a cafe. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. No reason. She can dig her own grave.” Isaac grabbed the tray and shut the door. If the girl wanted to chat up those idiots, it was none of his business. None at all. And if she got into trouble . . . well . . . well . . . 

There was no help for it. Isaac grabbed his coat and shoes and headed for the door.

“Where to, old boy? I thought you were cloistered with a new idea?” Arthur interrupted his progress. 

Isaac gave a sigh of pure annoyance. “None of your business. Now if you’ll step aside.”

“Probably rushing off to town after Hondje,” Theo said, stepping out from a nearby doorway. 

“After Toshiko-san? Why would you do that, Apple-chan?” The third face of torment, Dazai, appeared behind Arthur.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, would you all just leave me be?” Isaac’s glare encompassed them all, but it didn’t have the intended effect. 

Arthur cracked a grin and Theo laughed. Dazai’s smirk implied more than any polite man might say. 

Vincent opened the door behind the grinning jackals, canvas and paints in hand. He took in the smiles and cocked his head. “Are you all going someplace?”

“We are, broer.” Theo nudged Isaac. “Newt here is going to town to check on Hondje, so we all decided to come along.”

“That sounds fun,” Vincent enthused. “Can I come along too?”

“Of course.” Theo nodded.

Arthur gave a little groan. “Oh come on. With him along, the birds’ll be completely distracted. He’s got that innocent act down to perfection.”

Dazai glanced up. “I don’t see any birds, Arthur-kun, but if I do, I will toss them to you.”

“At me, more like, you devil.”

Everyone but Isaac laughed. “Look, you heathens, I don’t need or want you along. I can do this on my own. And I - I’m not checking on anyone! I’m just going into town. For myself.”

“Sure you are. Anyway, we’re all going the same direction, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with us Newt.” Theo’s smile was enigmatic. 

There was no easy way to shake them, so Isaac wound up stuffed into a carriage with Dazai, Arthur, Theo, and Vincent. He supposed himself lucky that Jean and Napoleon hadn’t shown up too. As it was, The carriage only comfortably sat four so Vincent was perched on Theo’s lap. Add two more and Isaac knew just where he’d end up.

“Eh, one question though. Does anyone know where we’re headed?” Vincent asked innocently.

Arthur grinned. “A good detective always gathers clues before heading out on a mission.”

“You mean Sebas told you where she went.” Theo scowled.

“Hey! That’s still a clue.”

“Would you both shut up?” Isaac rubbed his temples. They didn’t comply, of course. It was a very long ride into town.

Thankfully, the carriage let them off close to the cafe. Isaac half-hoped the four of them would bugger off somewhere, but they clung like burs and hurried him toward the cafe. A place called l' encre. Students hung around on the corners here and lounged by alleyways. Feral things, sharply dressed and sharper eyed. Wealthy young men with time on their hands and mischief in mind. 

The girl was easy to spot. Sitting in a chair, legs clad with men’s pants, of all things. Dressed in a man’s shirt and vest with a waistcoat, she might have blended in - except that she was slighter of stature, set apart by her heritage from these Parisians, and her clothes only served to emphasize curves none of these boys could boast.

Isaac swallowed. He might have turned tail there, but for catching her eye through the glass. Her lips curved up in a slight smile before turning back to her conversation. That look beckoned him on. That, and his companions practically carrying him bodily across the threshold.

The five of them swarmed to her table, ignoring the waiter’s objections. 

“What’s this, luv? Going out without me?” Arthur settled an arm over her shoulder.

Theo smiled thinly at the boys. “And who are your friends?”

“Yes, Toshiko-san, who are these men you’ve ensnared?” Dazai stood behind her chair.

Isaac cleared his throat. “Uhm. Yes. My . . . dear. Ah.” He felt an uncomfortably heat in his face. What was he even saying? He sounded like an idiot. 

She laughed. “I didn’t realize I needed to clear my friends with roommates. Fine.” She gestured around the table, giving the names of the students. And then she gestured to the vampires. “These are my roommates. We share neighboring . . . apartments. Anyway, this one is Arthur. He’s a wanna-be writer and detective.”

“Oh, like that Holmes fellow? Or was it Watson?”

“Holmes. Yes. Like that but if Holmes weren’t as smart as he thinks he is and a pervert to boot.” She nodded enthusiastically, ignoring Arthur’s scowl. “And this one is Dazai. A gambler with hearts and money. The other is Theo. He’s an art dealer with a penchant for awful nicknames.”

“What’s that, Hondje?”

“Don’t make me throw my coffee at you, dutchman.” She lifted the cup lightly from the saucer in mock threat. “The blondie is Vincent. He’s a painter and . . . well, he’s an angel.”

She didn’t introduce Isaac. He cleared his throat. Her eyes landed on him in challenge.

“I’m . . . I’m Isaac. A physicist.”

“He means a shut-in hedgehog. But he might know a little math too.” She grinned. At his offended expression, she relented. “Alright, alright. Isaac is a bonafide genius. But he doesn’t like to share so don’t expect he’ll tutor you like I do.”

“A genius?” One of the boys looks surprised. “Is he the one you -”

“Ah, hey! Weren’t you going to buy me a fancy ice?” She interrupted the boy. “You promised if you passed your midterm that you would. You passed, right?”

He grinned. “Second highest score in class. Alright. I’ll get your fancy ice.”

The other boys were clamoring with questions. Was she dating any of her roommates (no), was she working with Isaac on a project (no), was she consulting with Arthur on a case or a book (no), was she modeling for Vincent (yes), and so on. Some of them turned their attention on Isaac, quizzing him as it were.

At first, he felt annoyed but his frustration fell away in the face of their honest curiosity and desire to learn. Between himself and the girl, they had a lively conversation on the topic of planetary motion. One which quickly lost the other mansion residents. 

Theo and Arthur slapped him on the back and took off for the tavern. Dazai slipped off to start a card game with the waiter (a small wager, of course!). Only Vincent stayed, sketching something in his little notebook. 

Isaac barely realized he was having fun, enjoying an actual conversation with the girl and her students - and they were her students, he understood. They’d been exchanging letters for weeks now, and the boys were fully enamored of her. He could see why. Her knowledge was not shallow or casual. She drew connections between information intuitively, her math was flawless. She had methods of explaining complex ideas that were new to him, and Isaac found himself becoming enamored as well. Of her mind - of course! Logic was appealing in any body. Yes. Only that. 

Only Vincent could see the way his smile gentled as it rested on her. The slight close of distance between them. The way Isaac’s eyes lit up when she complimented him. Vincent saw, and captured the emotion with his pencils, unbeknownst to the scientists at the table.

Before Isaac knew it, the time had come for the cafe to close. The boys wanted to carry on at a pub nearby, but the girl begged off. “I’m tired,” she said. “And there’ll be another day. Besides, logic is harder with a beer in hand,” which drew a round of laughter. 

The two of them found themselves in Vincent’s company, with Dazai, Theo, and Arthur gone off to who knows where. “Should we go look for them,” Isaac asked.

“No. I know where to find mijn broer. I’ll fetch him. I bet Arthur and Dazai are there too.” Vincent smiled like a little ray of sun in the dark night. “Why don’t you two head home? We can catch another carriage back. Less crowded that way.”

“Brilliant,” Isaac agreed. He didn’t look forward to jamming himself into a small space with the four of them again. And the girl as well. She’d have to sit somewhere. His heart did something odd in his chest. A squeezed, tight sensation. Escalated speed. Perhaps he’d had too much coffee.

He hailed a carriage and they climbed in, sitting opposite each other. The space was narrow enough that his knee knocked against hers. 

“Careful there,” she warned. “If you start accidentally touching people, it’s a slippery slope toward touching them on purpose.” 

“I like touching people.” Isaac looked away from her and out the small window. “If - if I know them well. I think I would.”  

She laughed softly. “Alright then. If you say so.” Then she fell silent.

When he looked her way again, she was leaning against the side of the bench, eyes closed. He had to admit, she was quite attractive. More than just objectively so. He wanted to ask her where she’d learned so much. To show her his notes, to read what she had about this relativity theorem. And time and black holes. And whatever was a Kuiper Belt. But that was madness, of course. She’d just take his ideas or discredit him or argue incessantly. That was what came of sharing your work. 

Isaac sighed. Even if he knew better, he couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like to have her as a - a friend. Pure foolishness, of course. And yet. 

The change between them was slight at first. Hellos in the hallway. Conversation at breakfast. She began to bring his food to his lab or into his room, and sometimes, she’d stay a moment longer than needed. They’d exchange a few words. 

Those moments began to stretch and those few words became full blown conversations. She brought her notebooks. He showed her some of his. Conversations turned into whole afternoons and those bled into late nights.

Isaac was surprised to find himself relaxed in her presence. She teased, sometimes, but gently. And she never insulted his work or belittled his knowledge, even when it became clear the modern understanding of astrophysics far outstripped his foundational ideas. He began to read the books she’d begged from le Comte. Tomes out of time, here. Future knowledge. 

And he began to look forward to her visits. Every day, he’d wake thinking of all the things he wanted to tell her. Wondering what he might ask her today. Imagining her smile as they talked. 

As they sat in the garden one afternoon, weeks after that night at the cafe, she asked him, “Are we friends, Isaac?”

Startled, he gave a cautious nod. “I would . . . guess so. I,” he paused, considering his words. “I am very fond of you.”

“You too,” she smiled. 

He wasn’t sure what she meant. That she thought of him as a friend? Or that she was fond of him? Both? But he felt awkward asking, and the moment passed. It bothered him intensely for days. What were her feelings for him, after all? Did she think of him as often as he did of her? He avoided her as he stewed over it. 

The answer she gave might have been meant as a polite rejection. And wouldn’t that figure. Every friend Isaac ever had turned false. Was he only a resource? An entertainment? The questions made him feel ill. Hot and cold at once. Nauseous. His worries were proven out in the way she allowed his aversion. He snapped at her just once, and she began to leave his trays at the door again.

He heard her waltzing about the mansion. Laughing. Chatting. Flirting. Like a tart. He watched her one afternoon from the balcony as she went about the garden. Somehow, she’d talked Napoleon into carrying the watering can. 

Leon was telling her stories and she was smiling. She looked radiant. Her sundress swayed, her hair fell in silken waves. He could hear her laughter. It was a weight on his chest. Isaac felt as if he couldn’t breathe. As if something in his chest was broken. 

Worried, he forced himself to Arthur’s door. “Excuse me,” he said stiffly. 

Arthur looked up from his typewriter. “Hm? What is it, Newt?”

“I - I think I may be ill.” 

“Oh? Can’t promise I’ll be able to tell you anything but come in. Let’s have a looksee.” 

Isaac sat in one of Arthur’s chairs. 

“So, tell me the symptoms. We’ll start there.” Arthur set his wrist to Isaac’s forehead and then began to check his pulse as the physicist related his condition. Erratic heartbeat, a chest ache, nausea, shortness of breath, intense thirst, and so on.

Arthur nodded, his lips pursed. “When did this start?”

“A few weeks ago, I suppose.” 

“Mhmm. And is there a common factor? Something that sets this off?” Arthur raised a brow.

“No. No, it’s happened in a few places and nothing was -” he stopped, considering. The symptoms came on when she was around. When she was around but distant. Too far for him to be the cause of her smile. Too distant for her eyes to meet his, for her hand to brush his arm. 

Isaac swallowed. “I - I think I shall be fine. Sorry to waste your time.”

Arthur’s smile was mischievous. “Think of something, old boy?”

“No. No. Nothing. I’ll be going.” He hurried away, afraid the writer would see all the way through to the truth of the matter as Isaac just had. 

The fact was, he was in love. Isaac. A man too busy for relationships. Too devoted to study for banal romance. And yet this woman had caught his heart without him even realizing it. Did she know? 

He tried to avoid her, but damn it all. Everything reminded him of her. His studies. His food. He could smell her light perfume, hear her voice everywhere he went. Isaac found himself stalking her through the mansion. Finding the places she had been, only moments before. Finding himself there, for no reason other than her, embarrassed by the tumult of his heart.

Sometimes, he would sit in a place she’d just left, to feel her warmth. It was almost like getting to touch her. But it would leave him empty, thirsty, and desolate. If this was love, he didn’t want it. He needed it to end, one way or another. This half-life could not go on. If she rejected him, then he could pick up the shards of his heart and go on. And if she . . . if she could feel as he did, if she loved - no, even simply liked - him . . . He didn’t allow his thoughts to dwell on that impossibility.

Isaac sought her out. He had to settle this. Confront her. Confess. 

He found her in the kitchen, alone. She didn’t notice him coming in. She was mixing something in a bowl. It smelled of sugar and cinnamon, fruit and flowers. Her sundress was the same, but her hair was pinned up in a messy bun. Her exposed neck looked smooth as silk, soft as sin.

Drawn forward, Isaac found himself a mere handspan from her. His throat burned, dry and hot as the desert. The ache in his heart expanded, a fracture in the planes of his being. His hands reached unbidden for her, settling around her waist.

She yelped in surprise and dropped her spoon, spinning in his grasp. Now nose to nose with him, she smiled. “Isaac! What are you doing sneaking up on me? I almost had a heart attack!”

“Mmmm,” he replied intelligently. His words didn’t seem to want to make an appearance. Accusations or protestations of love both lost in her proximity. Isaac realized in that moment that more than anything, he wanted to bite her. He wanted his mark on her throat. Like some savage beast. Detestable as the thought was though, he could not force himself to let go.

“What is it,” she asked, smile fading to worry. “Did you miss your afternoon snack?” 

He had, in fact, but that had nothing to do with it. “You . . . should . . . probably go,” he rasped.

She bopped him on the nose. “Easily said. You have quite the grip.” When he didn’t loosen his hold, she sighed. “Well, come on. We’ll get you some Rouge.” She sidled left and he let himself move with her. They stopped beside a shelf that held their supply of Rouge and Blanc. 

Carefully, she pulled down a bottle and uncorked it. “Here. Have this before you do something you’ll regret, hm?”

Isaac didn’t want the rouge. It smelled good, yes, but nothing like the scent of her skin. The warmth of it. 

She must have seen something of that in his eyes. “Oh Isaac. You will hate me for it tomorrow. But here.” She turned her head, baring her throat.

He should have told her no. To refuse. To do anything but what his body begged of him. He didn’t. Isaac lifted her up to sit on the counter, placing her throat perfectly at level. Then with a reverence in defiance of his bestial desires, his lips found her throat. He kissed her there, as if to bless the wound he was about to make. And then he could resist no more. 

She gasped as his teeth parted her skin and loosed the red liquor of her veins.

Isaac heard her only distantly. He was drunk on her blood the moment it stained his lips. She was fire and honey. The sun and all the attendant stars. He worshipped at her feet as he suckled at her neck. There was nothing to compare to this. Not god. Not knowledge. Nothing held a candle to her. 

“Isaac,” she whispered, the last word she said before her breath was stolen in a wave of inhuman pleasure. The side effects of the vampire’s hunger. She clung to him until she went limp from it.

When he came to himself, they were lying on the floor of the kitchen. Her blood was drying on his cheeks. She rested against his chest, her fingers entwined with his. 

He felt ashamed, panicked. His attempt at confession had backfired spectacularly. And now . . . now she would hate him. Isaac tried to disentangle himself but she wouldn’t release him. His struggles woke her.

Blearily, she lifted her head and blinked at him. “Got something on your face,” she murmured. 

“What?”

“On your face.” Her smile was tired but pleased. “My blood.” 

Isaac felt his heart stop. “Are you . . . teasing me?”

She nodded. “Got to. You’re too serious.”

“But . . . I bit you!”

“And?”

He gaped. “You might have died!”

“And?”

“Don’t you . . . don’t you want to live?” He felt a sudden unexpected coldness in him at that thought. That she might court death. That she might die and be lost to him completely.

She laughed breathily. “Of course. Idiot. You weren’t going to kill me.” She sat up, still holding to his hand. “Took you long enough though. I was beginning to think you hated me.”

“I could never hate you! You were the one that - that didn’t say what you meant,” he protested.

“What are you talking about?” She gave him a confused look.

“When I said I was fond of you. You, you didn’t say it back.” He couldn’t help how his lips tightened into a pout.

“Are you serious?” She laughed. Then she leaned forward and before he could protest, she kissed him. Her lips were electric, a circuit closed between them as they touched. A heavenly spark, a fire - kindled, a star born. 

“Fond,” she sighed, as she broke from the kiss. “I am so much more than fond. I -”

“I love you,” he interrupted her. “I love you. And I’m going to lock you in my room and never let you out again.” He stood and lifted her to him, his vampiric strength so much more than his sleight, slim frame would give.

“You have to let me out sometimes,” she laughed, but didn’t struggle. “How else will Sebas get anything done around here?”

“Sometimes, then,” he grumbled, pretending to be displeased. But there was no taking the smile from his face as he carried her upstairs.

[sunflowersoldat]

Like One of Those French Girls

Warnings: +18 only, smut, slight voyeurism, Stucky, you have been warned!

Summary: As an artist, you have slumps, and today before you meet a buyer, you have one, until your eyes land on two certain men getting coffee.

Word Count: ~4500

Main Masterlist

You sat at the only table without a parasol, you enjoyed the sun warming your skin, plus the sun always gave you energy and inspiration; well almost always. You stared at the blank sketchbook in frustration, nothing was giving you the need to draw, nothing worthy… until your eyes landed on two very muscular men starting to sit a couple of tables away. Both wore baseball caps; one wore leather gloves covering his hands and the other a brown leather jacket. You wrapped your scarf tighter around you, bringing it up a little to cover your heated cheeks.

The men looked around them settling into their seats, one was blond wearing a blue cap the other a brunette with a black cap, his hair long enough to fall out the sides and the back. The blonde rose to his feet again and stalked into the coffee shop, as he passed his eyes settled on you for a moment; as blue and perfect as the Atlantic Ocean, you wanted to dive into them.

The wind picked up tousling your hair and sending a shiver down your spine through your jacket. You looked back to the brunette now sitting alone, you caught glimpses of his features, strong jaw, a shadow along his jaw from new stubble, and his eyes; steel blue, like the ice in the Artic, they were so stunning your breath caught in your chest.

You had been mesmerized by him, “Hun? A refill?” you were snapped back into your reality by the barista offering to refill your coffee, you nodded quickly giving her thanks, and immediately started to sketch. Looking back and forth from the sketchbook to the stranger, adding details every time your pencil hit the paper, because every time you looked back at him you saw more of him you needed to draw. You were drawn to him like a moth to a flame, suddenly a finger came into your view, pointing at the strangers drawn head,

“No, you see you have to get the emotion in the way he has his head tilted…”

You nearly jumped out of your own skin, as you whirled around in your seat to see the blond stranger standing behind you with two cups of coffee in his hands, and a wide smile on his face. Shit.

“I-I-I’m so s-sorry! I didn’t… I wasn’t…” he shook his head as he chuckled softly,

“Don’t worry about it, you have a beautiful talent, I’m sure Bucky wouldn’t mind modeling for you anyway.”

A silence fell between you for a moment, you could feel your cheeks burning, any trace of the cold now leaving your body, you couldn’t believe he caught you drawing his friend. He looked at his friend a few tables away,

“He is a good muse, would you like a closer look?” you blinked up at him stunned, “Come on I’ll introduce you. I’m Steve by the way. I like to draw myself, maybe we could give each other pointers?”

You rose from your seat following Steve to his table “Um y-yeah sure.”

He handed ‘Bucky’, as he had called him, his coffee and pulled out your chair before he sat himself down. “Bucky this is… Uh, sorry Sweetheart I didn’t actually get your name,” Steve motioned towards you a slight pink rising to his cheeks,

“Oh… Um.” you tell them your name quietly, still really unsure of your new surroundings.

Bucky looked you up and down, slightly narrowing his eyes at you, then nodded slowly, “Nice to meet you… Steve where did you find this one?”

Bucky gestured in your direction with his coffee. Steve cocked his head giving Bucky an incredulous look, “Well she was a couple of tables away, she was drawing you, and I offered her a closer look…”

Something flashed across Steve’s expression, but it was gone before you could place what it was, “So she could get the details right. You should see it Buck, she makes you look like a perfect gentleman.”

Steve snickered and winked at Bucky while taking a sip of his coffee. Bucky rolled his eyes sighing, “Well Doll, can I see it?”

You blinked a couple of times before reaching for your sketchbook and flipping to the page Bucky was on, “It was the beginnings of a sketch, nowhere near finished… not my best work…”

You slid the book towards Bucky and started to fidget with the pencil in your hand. Bucky raised his brows,

“Not your best work…” you opened your mouth to again degrade your own art, but Bucky beat you to it,

“If this is just a quick sketch, I would love to see a fully fleshed out piece. This is great.”

He spoke with a small smile pulling at his lips, but he kept sneaking looks towards Steve who was staring off into the bustling city.

“You know Steve is an artist himself, though he is modest, and won’t actually admit he has talent. You should let him do you sometime.”

The smile he gave you made your stomach do a summersault; you saw his eyes darken a shade. Were you still talking about drawing? You weren’t too sure now and as you picked your sketchbook back up, Bucky’s hand met yours, and a jolt of electricity shot through you, sending goosebumps all over your body.

“Earth to Steve… Punk!” Bucky called to Steve as he retracted his hand from yours.

Steve’s attention snapped back to you and Bucky, “I was just telling her that we could take her to your place and give her some pointers, show her a new perspective.”

Steve looked to you now slowly nodding his head, “That sounds good to me, only if you are okay with that Sweetheart.”

Your head was spinning, you should not follow two strangers anywhere, but you felt strangely safe with the two of them. “I can’t today…” you hesitated, checking your watch, “I have an appointment with a potential buyer in 30 minutes, so I better get going…”

You stood from your seat “Just let me know when and where, it’s always good to see another artist’s point of view, you never stop learning.”

You smile and place a piece of paper into Bucky’s palm. You turned and walked to your appointment. ~

“You are early, I wasn’t expecting you for another 15 minutes.”

Your buyer said as you walked out of the elevator doors into a huge room with a few couches, a bar and a fantastic view of New York City.

“If you aren’t early, you are late. My grandmother wouldn’t tolerate tardiness, being on time anywhere was late and being late was unacceptable.”

You gave him a small smile, “It is so nice to finally meet you, Pepper has spoken very highly of you and your abilities.”

You felt your face heat at the praise, “Thank you Mr. Stark, that means a lot coming from someone like Pepper.”

Stark shook his head and raised a glass, which you assumed had some sort of alcohol in it, “Come now don’t be so modest, I’ve seen your work, I agree with Pepper wholeheartedly, and please call me Tony.”

He gestured to the seat across from him, with your back towards the elevator, facing the bustling city below. You walked toward him and took a seat,

“So, Tony, what exactly are you commissioning from me? Pepper didn’t give me many details before the meeting, all she said was I would need to see it to believe it. So please share my mystery muse.”

Tony chuckled taking another sip of his drink unbuttoning his suit jacket and sitting back down. “I could tell you, but it would be much easier to show you, but before I do that, I must tell you that this is going into the new Avengers Compound I am building, so it must be perfect, I am holding you to a high standard. Which should be easy for you, I have seen your work.”

You laugh lightly and glance out the window, “No pressure huh?”

Tony gave you a sly smile, “Your work won’t be the only one I will be hanging in the compound, each Avenger will have a different local artist doing their portrait, but yours is important, after all…”

Tony was cut off by a disembodied voice, “Sir they are here, would you like me to send them up?” Tony sighed,

“Looks like you aren’t the only one who enjoys being early. Yes FRIDAY, send them up.”

Tony looked out the window to the city below, then to the elevator as it dinged to signify its arrival. “Ah early as always old man oh and the Manchurian candidate…”

Tony rose from his seat to great his new guest, “Tony, good to see you as always. Why did you need me here?”

You froze, you knew that voice, but why? You turned in your seat to get a good look and your jaw dropped, Steve and Bucky were standing in the foyer, looking very much like they belonged here. Tony turned and gestured to you.

“Doll? This was your appointment?” Steve interrupted. Tony looked between the three of you obviously confused,

“I’m sorry, when did the three of you meet?” Steve shrugged a shoulder, “About an hour ago at a coffee shop, she was sketching Bucky.”

Tony turned to you, “Well damn okay, I guess I don’t need to make introductions. Steve will be your muse.”

You furrowed your brows, “I’m sorry I must be missing something, why?”

Tony narrowed his eyes at you, “Because he was the First Avenger, the original. Steve Rogers… Captain America.”

Your eyes widened as realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Shit. You slapped your palm to your forehead,

“Wow I feel so dumb, I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together.” You shook your head, it made sense now, the hat the inconspicuous coffee date, the two of them keeping their heads down, and the way Bucky first regarded you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and hide there forever, how did you not notice that Steve was the Steve as in Steve Rogers aka Captain America?

“Don’t be so hard on yourself kid, the Capsicle likes to lay low, most people don’t know what he looks like up close, so don’t beat yourself up over it. But yes, you will be painting, or drawing, or charcoaling Steve for the new compound.”

You nodded your head processing the new information. You were going to have to study Steve Rogers closely, and to do that you needed to spend time with him; a lot of time with him.

“Well, you better get started, you have a lot to do. When you finish, bring it to me, we will settle payment then, and we will have a big reveal to the whole team, and who knows if I like it enough, I might just have you do the rest of the team.”

Steve turned and gestured to the elevator, you followed behind him. ~

You, Steve and Bucky spent a good amount of time together as you planned out Steve’s piece, you would actually work as the other two decided to try and distract you with anything and everything, Steve didn’t like the attention, and Bucky didn’t like you giving Steve all the attention, he did everything he could to steal it from him.

Despite the distractions and the flirting from both sides you did get your work done, you decided charcoal was the best medium for the details you wanted to include, you asked him questions and placed him into different positions, sketching him here and there adding shadows and highlights, most days you left Steve’s apartment covered in charcoal and your hair an absolute mess.

But today was different, today all you needed were a few final details and you would be able to complete the piece, you were concentrated on Steve and the pose you had stuck him in when Bucky came up to you, licked his thumb and wiped it across your cheek, you shook your head and pulled away

“What the hell Barnes, you could have messed up the entire sketch!” you batted his hand away,

“You had charcoal on your face, I was just trying to help. Plus, you were focusing too hard.” He shrugged and walked back into Steve’s kitchen, Steve’s phone rang in his pocket, and he moved to answer it,

“Steven Grant Rogers don’t you dare move from that position, I’m almost done!” but it was too late, Steve had already rose to his feet and walked out into the hallway away from you and Bucky. You sighed scrubbing your face with your hands,

“That’s fine I have enough sketches to finish the project, anyway, don’t worry about it.” You mumbled gathering your supplies and placing them into your bag, you walked towards the door, but was yanked back against Steve’s bookshelf,

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for him to leave this damn apartment for days.” Bucky breathed against your neck, you placed your hands on his shoulders and held him an arm’s length away,

“Barnes what are you doing?” your heart was racing, not that you would be against Bucky continuing, but what the hell was going on.

“Come on Doll, you can’t tell me you haven’t been getting my hints? Tell me no and I’ll stop no questions asked.”

He ran his hands down your sides and nuzzled his head into your neck peppering kisses onto your pulse. Damn if he wasn’t right, you had picked up on his signals, but you thought it was all just in your head.

“You know you never finished drawing me, would you like a private tour of your new muse?” he whispered into your skin, your breath hitched in your throat, and your hands came up to tangle into his hair, dropping your bag of supplies spilling them all over the floor.

Bucky bit your neck, not too hard, just enough to make you moan, which he responded to with his own as he slotted his lips over yours. He wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up, you wrapped your legs around his waist pressing closer to him; you could feel his hard member straining against his dark-wash jeans. He pulled you away from the bookshelf and into the kitchen, placing you onto the counter, pulling away from the kiss you remove your shirt from your chest, as his hands slid down to work on your pants, when he finally tugged those off, he moved back to your mouth, begging it to open with his tongue.

You opened for him to explore, fighting with yours for dominance, he pulled away again, panting, his hair was wild, and eyes lust blown, devouring you. He moved one hand behind you unclasping your bra while the other moved down, down, down, until it met with the waistband of your underwear, ripping them off you. His metal hand was cool against your heated core, his flesh hand tossed your bra away, and palmed your now bare, peaked breasts. As he massaged one breast, his mouth covered the other, you flung your head back and moaned in pleasure, gasping when his cool metal fingers slid through your folds and plunged into your clenching heat.

You placed one hand behind you to brace yourself, as the other pulled and tugged on Bucky’s hair, eliciting vulgar moans from his lips, vibrating onto your sensitive breasts.

“B-Bucky! Wait, what about S-Steve?!”

Bucky growled in response, letting go of your breast with a wet pop, and removing his hand from your core, he pulled you to the edge of the counter,

“What about him? We’ll be done before he comes back, don’t worry Doll.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but instead of words a vulgar moan came out as Bucky dove into your pussy like it was the last meal he would ever have, you tightened your legs around his head, whimpering and moaning like a fucked-out mess.

“F-Fuck! Bucky just l-like that! D-Don’t s-stop please!”

he growled continuing his assault on your soaking core, licking and nipping and sucking, making the most explicit sounds you had ever heard. Your first orgasm hit you like a freight train, you tried to keep yourself quiet, in fear of Steve hearing the two of you in his own apartment, but there was no stopping the moan that ripped out of you. Bucky stopped sucking your clit with a releasing it with a wet pop, and crushed his lips to yours, you couldn’t take it anymore you needed him, now.

You clawed at his shirt, ripping it off of him, sliding off of the counter sinking onto the floor, tugging his jeans off of him, His cock springing free from his underwear, as you licked it from base to tip. Bucky moaned, tossing his head back and bracing both hands on the counter to steady himself.

“F-Fuck.”

You moved your mouth over his head, licking and sucking until he couldn’t handle it, he moved one hand into your hair, gripping it tightly, making you wince. You hollowed out your cheeks moving in sync with your hand at the base of his cock as he moved his hips with you. You lowered your other hand to your core, to keep your pleasure from fading, moaning onto his dick, causing his hips to stutter and warmth to slide down your throat. As you rose to your feet, hand still between your own legs, Bucky grabbed your wrist, and shook his head,

“That’s my job Doll.” He growled in your ear,

“You stopped, someone had to do your job for you.”

You looked up at him through your lashes, and bit your lower lip, he raised a brow, lifting you off your feet, carrying you into Steve’s bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. He kneeled onto the bed and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your ass into the air, a loud smack filled the air and you mewled, as the sting settled on your ass cheek, he smacked the other side causing arousal to pool in your core as you whimpered. Bucky’s metal hand came to your core, rubbing circles around your sensitive bud, dipping his fingers into your heat and removing them, pumping his hand down his cock to lubricate it, before he pushed into you.

You screamed as he stretched you around him, filling you up, he was so big you thought he would split you in half, as he buried himself hilt deep in your heat, he waited a moment for you to adjust before he started thrusting his hips into you. Reaching around your waist with his metal hand he rubbed circles around your clit, you couldn’t even form words at this point, you were so blissed-out, only gibberish came out. Bucky tangled his hand in your hair, pulling you against him, kissing and nipping your neck, he removed his metal hand from your core and replaced it with his flesh one.

His metal one traveled up your torso, stopping on your breasts to tease your peaked nipples, you squirmed and mewled in response.

“Oh Doll, you are so responsive, let me hear you.”

His flesh hand found your clit again, and you screamed his name as your walls clenched around him, waves of pleasure pulsed through your body, your chest to heaving. Bucky’s metal hand left your breasts to firmly grip your throat, your eyes rolled back in pleasure, as you reached up to place your hand over his.

“F-F-Fu-uck! Fuck, Fuck!” you whimpered out.

A door closed in the apartment footsteps neared the bedroom as the door swung open, your head lolled in the direction of the door; Steve stood there eyes as dark as a stormy ocean. Bucky’s grip on your throat tightened as he turned his head towards Steve, keeping his pace.

“Hey Stevie, nice of you to join us. I found the perfect position for you to draw Y/N in.”

Steve raised a brow and sat down in his chair across the room picking up a pencil and his sketchbook.

“Keep it right there, Buck, don’t let her come until I tell you to.”

At that Bucky stopped the movement of his hand on your core, and slowed his pace to painful crawl, you squirmed and moaned in protest. You could feel the tight cord inside of you waning and a sob escaped you, Bucky shushed you picking up his pace just enough to keep your cord tight but not letting you finish. The sensations were too much you thought you would pass out for sure, you needed release.

“P-please B-bucky, I need t-to come.” You pleaded, but the only response you received was a slap to the ass and a chuckle from across the room when you whimpered.

You closed your eyes and prepared yourself for the long haul. After what felt like hours, you heard Steve rise from his chair, you opened your eyes and looked at him, he was now completely naked standing in front of you, Bucky’s pace still painfully slow behind you. Steve’s gaze drank you in,

“You started without me Bucky; we were supposed to share. And you Sweetheart…” Steve clicked his tongue and grabbed your face, “you just went along with him, what to do? What to do?”

His mouth covered yours biting your bottom lip and you whimpered under his touch. Compared to Bucky, Steve was like fire, to Bucky’s ice, the sensation sending you over the edge.

“Did I say you were allowed to finish Sweetheart?” Steve growled in your ear as both of his hands came to cup your breasts. Gods, they thought you were beautiful this way, like putty in their hands.

It’s a shame he wasn’t the one to take you apart piece by piece, he had missed it when he stepped out in the hall, he would get Bucky back for that. But you were here now, a whimpering mess between the two of them, and he was going to enjoy it.

“Sweetheart?” you hummed in response so fucked out you couldn’t bother to form a sentence, “You, okay?”

Bucky slowed his pace again giving you time to reply. “Perfect.” You slurred; Steve caressed your face in one hand,

“Are you okay with this? You can say no, and we will stop.”

He rubbed his thumb across your cheek, as you nodded your head. “I can handle it. I want to.” You met his gaze, his eyes were soft for a brief second, but the moment you reassured them you were okay, and this was okay, his gaze hardened, and he crushed his mouth to yours. Bucky picked up his pace again as his hips stuttered and came to a stop.

“Your turn Punk, that’s two, you need to catch up.”

Steve pulled away from the kiss laying back and pulling you on top of him sliding into your core, you almost collapsed on top of him from the pleasure, they were similar Bucky was long, but Steve was thick. Steve reached up to caress your cheek again mummering praises to you, Bucky stayed behind you; arms wrapped around you one hand placed at your throat while the other massaged your breasts as he placed kisses to your pulse.

Steve reached his first release as you both screamed the others name, he then flipped you onto your back on the bed, placing kisses leading down your torso and to your core, Bucky came to the side of the bed by your head. You opened your mouth ready for him as he placed himself on your tongue and began thrusting, Steve licked and sucked your swollen bud, causing you to moan around Bucky who had to brace himself over you on the bed.

“Damnit Punk take it easy, or you’ll never catch up.” Steve chuckled against your core, sending vibrations through your body causing goosebumps to raise on your skin.

He removed himself from your core placing kisses up to your breasts again, he lifted your hips and inserted himself again, leaving one hand on your breast and the other on your clit, he started thrusting into you. The room was filled with explicit sounds of skin slapping skin and moans from the three of you. Bucky finished first releasing his spend down your throat and pulling away, smoothing your hair back and crushing his mouth to yours.

“Come on Sweetheart, I know you have one more for me, let go for me.”

Steve quickened his pace chasing his release as your walls clenched around him in your own release, his hips stuttered when your walls squeezed him again, and warmth filled you. When Steve was finished, he removed himself from you and walked into the bathroom to get two wet towels, he tossed one to Bucky and they worked on cleaning you up before they each laid next to you on the bed. Your eyes were heavy as you dosed off curling into Steve and Bucky curled behind you.

“Hey Stevie,” you whispered he hummed in response tracing idle circles on your arm, they couldn’t get over how beautiful you were.

“Did you draw me like one of those French girls?” Bucky chuckled behind you his chest rumbling against your back. Steve only smiled

“You are better than those girls, Sweetheart.” ~

You walked into the Avengers compound with a moving crew behind you, it was hard for you to actually finish the damn project, Bucky and Steve would barely let you out of their sight. But alas you had found time when they were away to finish the project without their prying eyes. Tony, the media and the rest of the team were waiting for your arrival in the foyer, the movers placed the masterpiece onto the proper hook on the wall before stepping away and out the door. Tony nodded to you, as you took a deep breath,

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to present to you ‘The First Avenger”

You pulled the canvas cover off the charcoal drawing and the room went completely silent. You gazed around the room trying to see some kind of reaction, Tony was the first to react.

“This is absolutely stunning, exceeded all my expectations.”

You turned to the drawing, you had captured everything that Steve Rogers was, not only the first Avenger, no, nor was he only a super soldier, the drawing captured the good man he was deep down, the broken man, the man that did what was right at all costs, even if it meant ruining himself. You turned back when everyone started to clap and give praises, but you sought out Steve in the crowd, he had a smile on his face, but there were tears in his eyes.

You saw him for who he was, brokenness and all. He decided then and there, you were his, and he would fight the whole world for you, and he knew Bucky would do the same. You were their own special masterpiece, especially when they had you broken down and bare for only them.

Bucky's Duckies

@texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12

[wilohmsfordhasmyheart]

Found

Type: one shot about Wil Ohmsford (Shannara Chronicles) Rating: Rated R for Violence | Trigger Warning: Violence Word Count: 4500+ If you want part 2 then let me know Enjoy!

The princess was kidnapped nearly 18 years ago, it was like she just disappeared. There were plenty of knights that searched for her, but a few of them never returned. It seemed like the princess did not want to be found, but was she the reason why the men never returned?

"EVERYONE there has been another killing," the guard said as he held up the knight's head. "Who is doing this?" The king questioned. "No one knows, it's whoever goes to search for the long-lost princess," the guard said. "No one can find her, yet my men are being killed," the king said. "Does anyone truly know she's alive?" The queen asked. "No one knows," the guard said. "Ok, so I have to stop the searches for now" the king sighed. "I will put it out there" the guard nodded and left the room. "She could still be out there, there has to be an explanation," the queen said. "I know but it's too much of a risk, my men are being killed," the king said. "I want to find her as much as you do," he said. "I know you do," the queen nodded. "Maybe she doesn't want to be found," she said. "Yea maybe" the king sighed.

-in the village-

There was talk about all the killings. It was no secret that maybe the village could be in danger. A lot of the people chose to pack up their things and leave. There was an elf that was living among the people, he was known as the healer.

"Wil why is everyone leaving?" a girl asked. "Someone is killing the king's people," Wil nodded. "You don't need to worry," he said as he placed his hand against her chin. "I know I don't" She smiled as she looked at him. "Good," he said as he brushed his thumb against her lips. "So who is killing these people?" she asked. "No one knows but I think it's the lost princess that doesn't want to be found," he said. "Well why wouldn't she want to be found?" she asked. "Who knows?" Wil said. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap, she straddled his lap as she placed her hands against his chest. "Maybe you can find her," she whispered. "And why would I want to do that?" he asked. "Because you are Wil Ohmsford who saves people" she looked at him. "People who want to be saved," he said. "Like you Lily" he grabbed the back of her neck, bringing her closer. "Like me" She whispered against his lips. "Like you," he said, before kissing her softly.

She gently tugged at his bottom lip before he pulled away. Placing his lips against her neck as she leaned her head back. Allowing her moans to escape her lips as he made his way down to her collarbone. Gently nibbling at her skin as his hands slipped her sides, removing her shirt as he moved his hands up. He threw it on the ground, keeping his lips against her skin. He gripped her hips and stood up, moving them to the bed. He moved over top of her, placing his lips back against her neck. Unfortunately, there was a knock on the door that stopped them. He handed her her shirt as he made his way to the door.

"Are you Wil Ohmsford?" the guard asked. "Who wants to know?" Wil responded. "The king has asked for you," the guard said. "So guessing I don't have much of a choice," Wil said as he grabbed his bag. "Pretty much," the guard said. "Lead the way," Wil said as he turned to look at Lilly. "I'll be back," he said before leaving with the guard.

While they were on their way to the kingdom, down deep in the forest there was the lost princess. Once again she had another knight in her sight.

"Who sent you?" She asked the knight. "The king," the knight said. "Not good enough," she said as she held the blade tighter against his neck. "I'm just doing my job," he said. "You suck at your job" she whispered into his ear. "How do you know I'm the long-lost princess?" she questioned. "Because you look like a younger version of the queen," he said. "And?" she said as she pulled the blade, blood starting to run down his neck. "Let me go and I'll tell them you are dead" he pleaded for his life. "Let's do this instead," she said as she finished dragging the blade, killing him instantly. "So much more fun" she smiled as his lifeless body fell onto the ground.

She collected his weapons and money before leaving the body in the woods. She went back to the tower where she lived with her kidnapper.

"What did you collect this time?" the guy asked. "Money and some weapons" she claimed. "Good job Arabella," he said. "I'll take these into town" he nodded. "Sounds good," She said as she walked past him. "The body is in the forest," she said. "I'll get rid of it," he said as he walked off. "Can I ask you something?" she turned to face him. "Go for it" he stopped in his tracks, turning to face her. "Am I the long-lost princess?" she questioned. "Of course you are," he laughed. "What type of sick joke are these men telling you?" he questioned. "I don't know," she shrugged. "Arabella, you know they only want one thing," He said. "We have been over this, you're not a princess," he said. "I know I'm not a princess Josh" she rolled her eyes as she entered the tower. "Then drop it," Josh said as he left to go into town.

She kept going into the tower and her room. Sitting on the bed as she took off her shoes. She had blood on her from her latest killing. She got up from the bed and turned on the bath.

"Maybe one day my life will be my own" she sighed as she slipped off her dress and into the tub.

She leaned back in the tub and just relaxed. She was always told since she was a baby that the world was a horrible place. Sometimes it was when she was attacked by knights from the kingdom. She knew trolls, angels, and also rovers and never had a single issue with them. It was always the elves that she had trouble with, so could it be true that she was the lost princess? If she was then why would the elves try to hurt her? It seemed like every since she turned 16 she has been fighting for her life. The knights would come by dozens and take advantage of her.

"Well well well look who is comfortable," a guy said. "What are you doing here Henry?" She asked. "To see my favorite girl of course," Henry said. "Uh-huh," she rolled her eyes and got out of the tub. "Turn your head," she said as she started to get dressed. "Uh-huh," he said as he turned to face the wall. "no peeking right?" he chuckled slightly. "Seriously, what are you doing here?" she asked. "I heard you killed another knight," he said as he sat on the bed. "Yes I did" she sighed. "He said some King is sending them, just like the rest of them," she said. "The king is looking for you?" Henry asked. "I guess he is because everyone thinks I'm some long-lost princess," she said. "Arabella, you might be since you are an elf" he nodded, pointing out her ears. "I'm no such thing as an elf" she looked at him. "Rover" She crossed her arms. "Yes I am a rover and I'm not ashamed of saying it," he said. "You need to consider that you might be the princess," he said. "And you have to consider that all you do is lie and steal," she said. "Ok ok fair enough, I'll drop it," he said. "Uh huh, now leave me to my peace," she said. "As you wish my lady" he kissed her cheek. "Just making sure you are safe," he said. "I always am" she looked at him.

Henry left and she lay on the bed, drifting off to sleep. Wil and the guard finally made it to the palace. Wil was led into the palace and placed into a room. He waited for the king to enter, knights were guarding the door.

"Scared I'll escape?" Wil jokes. "Just protecting our king," the knight said. "Sure" Wil rolled his eyes. "When will he be here?" he asked. "Soon" the knight nodded. "Ok" Wil sighed as he waited. Finally, after it seemed like forever the king walked into the room. "Sorry for keeping you waiting," the king said. "It's ok your majesty," Wil said as he bent his head down. "You don't have to call me that, it's Allan," the king said. "Ok," Wil nodded. "So how can I help you?" he asked. "Well everyone knows my daughter was kidnapped nearly 18 years ago," the king said. "Yes everyone knows that" Wil nodded. "And how your men keep dying in search of her," he said. "Yes my men are being killed and we don't know why," the king said. "That's why I asked for you," he said. "To do what exactly?" Wil asked. "Either they found her and have been killed or trolls have gotten to them," he said. "These aren't troll attacks, I'm sure she's out there" the king sighed. "You are my last hope," he said. "You want me to go search for your daughter? Who may or may not be alive?" Wil asked. "When your men have been killed searching for her?" Wil looked at the king. "Yes, I'll give you whatever you desire, '' the king said. "I just need to know if she's still out there," the king said. "I'll go and search but I'm not promising you anything," Wil said. "Ok, thank you," the king said. "I don't need any of your men with me, If I'm going to do this then I'm doing it MY way," Wil said. "Ok whatever you need, just let me know" the king nodded.

Wil nodded and left the palace, he had doubts that the princess was alive but he would try. He was more afraid of what was killing those knights. He got onto his horse and started making his way to the forest. He passed by a knight on a horse with another horse carrying the knight that was just killed. Wil pulled himself away from the scene and started on his way. Josh was also in town when rumors started that Wil Ohmsford would be looking for the princess. He rushed back to the forest and into the tower where Arabella was at.

"Wake up!" Josh said as he started packing their things. "We need to leave NOW," he said. "What?" Arabella said as she rubbed her eyes. "We need to leave," Josh said. "Why?" She questioned. "The person who is searching for you will find you," Josh said. "And I'll kill him like the rest," She said. "Seriously Arabella we need to leave," Josh said as he threw a jacket at her. 'Why?" She stood up, questioning him. "Do as you are told!" He said. "No, I won't until you tell me why?" She crossed her arms. "Because I said so and you do as you are told," he said as he grabbed her arm.

Her memories came rushing back, forcing her to quiet down and do as she was told. She gathered her things and left with Josh. Wil traveled all night to finally come to the tower as the sun started to rise. He got off his horse, looking around to make sure no one was around. He made his way into the tower to find no one. He looked around entering her room, seeing a few of her things.

"They haven't been gone long," he said as he looked over the room. "Whoever lives here left pretty quickly though," he said as he walked around. "As if they knew I was coming," he said. "Who are you?" Henry asked as he entered the tower. "Who are you?" Wil asked as he pulled out his sword, pointing it towards Henry. "I'm Henry, where is Arabella?" Henry asked. "Arabella?" Wil asked as he put his sword down. "The girl who lives here with Josh," Henry said. "Do you know where they went?" Wil asked. "Not if I'm asking," Henry said. "True" Wil rolled his eyes. "So the question remains, who are you?" Henry asked. "I'm Wil Ohmsford," Wil said. "The healer," Henry nodded. "The elf who has magic," he said. "So they say," Wil said, still keeping his guard up. "I know who you are, Rover," he said. "Oh look at you" Henry chuckled slightly. "So Arabella, is she an Elf or a Rover?" Wil asked. "I don't have to tell you," Henry said. "Of course, you don't but you will," Wil said. "You going to make me?" Henry asked as he crossed his arms.

Wil looked at Henry and just smirked. He walked past him and out of the tower. Henry followed him wondering what he was doing. Henry didn't see Wil at first until he was flat on his back looking at Wil's sword. Wil stood to the side as Henry came out, just to sweep him off of his feet.

"Ok Ok, I'll tell you," Henry said as he put his hands over his face. "So was she an Elf or a Rover?" Wil asked. "An Elf," Henry said. "Now we are getting somewhere," Wil said as he put his sword up. "Where would Josh take her?" Wil asked. "That I have no clue," Henry asked. "Thanks for your help" Wil said as he got on his horse and rode off. "Uh huh, asshole" Henry said as he stood up on his own.

Wil left the tower and headed deeper into the woods. He found a cave and decided to lay low for the rest of the day. It was less dangerous to travel at night time, so daytime would be the time he would rest. He grabbed a snack from his bag and lay on the cave floor. Before he knew it he was fast asleep. He was awakened when he heard someone walking in the cave. He hurried onto his feet and grabbed his sword. He slowly walked out of the cave, no one was there, just his horse. He got onto his horse and started back into the forest. Meanwhile, Arabella and Josh were still traveling in the forest.

"When are we going to stop?" Arabella asked. "When I know you are safe," Josh said. "From what or who?" Arabella asked. "From the world," Josh said. "The world will always be a terrifying place," She said. "I know that but just until they stop searching for you," he said. "They haven't stopped in 18 years, what makes you think they will now?" She questioned. "Then we keep moving," he said. "I'm starting to question if you are my actual kidnapper," She said. "Why would I kidnap a princess for 18 years and get nothing in return?" he questioned. "What do you want?" She asked to see if she can get him to admit the truth. "Nothing because I didn't kidnap you," he said. "There is a cabin up here we can stop at," he said. "Ok," She said as she followed his lead.

They finally made it to the cabin and crashed for the night. Wil was still traveling in the forest, he saw smoke on the horizon so he thought he was getting closer. By dawn he made his way to the cabin, the smoke coming out of the chimney. He stayed in the woods as he watched the cabin. Josh came out to gather more wood as Arabella came out to get some fresh air. The moment Wil saw Arabella he knew she was the lost princess. Plus he liked what he saw, it was as if he was falling for someone he never met. He covered his ears and started towards the cabin.

"Hello, I'm new around here," Wil said. "Oh hey," Arabella smiled as she saw Wil. "We are just passing by," she said. "That's too bad because I surely would love to get to know you" Wil smiled. "Yea we are just passing by," Josh said as she stood in front of Arabella. "Who are you?" Josh asked. "Excuse me," Wil said as he took a step back. "Didn't mean to disrespect you sir" he nodded. "It's fine, I'm just protective over her," Josh said. "As you should be, she's beautiful," Wil said as he looked at Arabella. "Let's be kind and invite our new friend for breakfast," Arabella said. "Sure," Josh said. "I'm getting wood, she will show you around," Josh said as he walked off. "Thank you," Wil said as he followed Arabella into the cabin. "Where are you from?" Arabella asked. "Just around" Wil nodded. "Where are you from?" he asked. "Just around here," She said. "So are you and Josh?" he started to say but she stopped him. "No he's just some guy," Arabella said. "Starting to believe he's something more than just a random guy," she said. "What do you mean?" Wil questioned. "Have you heard about the rumors?" She asked. "What rumors?" He looked at her. "That I was kidnapped when I was a baby and I'm a long-lost princess," she said. "Oh, you are pretty enough to be a princess," Wil said. "Oh stop," She said as she started to blush. "I'm starting to believe the rumors," she said. "Why?" Wil asked. "Because these knights keep coming, searching and it always seems to be me who they are searching for," she said. "What's keeping you from going with the knights?" Wil asked. "It's complicated," She said as she looked away. "I'm sorry for asking," Wil said as he realized he hit a nerve. "But also how do they know it's me that they are looking for? If I was kidnapped as a baby, no one would know what I would look like now" she said. "True," Wil said. "We have eggs and milk with bread," She said as she placed the plate on the table. "Sounds good, I've been traveling all night," he said as he sat down.

She sat down next to him as Josh came back into the cabin. He also sat down and ate with them, and Wil tried to keep the conversation light so they wouldn't catch on. After breakfast, Wil stayed and helped clean up.

"I got it," Arabella said as she placed the plates in the sink. "I can help," Wil said as he moved towards the sink. "You are a guest, I got it," She said. "Come on now," He said as he stood behind her, placing his hands in the water.

She took a deep breath in as she felt him close to her. His scent filled her nose. It was intoxicating. She leaned back against his chest as they washed the dishes. His hands brushing against hers from time to time, he leaned down allowing his lips to brush against her ear.

"Is this ok?" he whispered. "Yea" She nodded. "Just making sure," he said.

He moved his hands from the sink onto her hips, slightly turning her so she was facing him. Moving his hand up, placing it against her chin, tilting it up slightly so their eyes met. He brushed his thumb against her lips softly before leaning down. She quickly snapped out of his trance and pulled away. She put the plates back on the table and left the cabin. He was confused but knew she needed space.

"So where are you guys headed next?" Wil asked. "Anywhere to keep her safe" Josh said. "Safe from the knights?" Wil looked at Josh. "Yea and this Elf healer," Josh said. "Elf healer?" Wil asked. "Yeah, I guess the king asked Wil Ohmsford to look for the princess," Josh said. "Oh, I should go check on her," Wil said as he walked out of the cabin.

He found her down by the lake, just walking along the shore. He walked up to her, making sure she knew he was coming so he wouldn't scare her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You don't have anything to be sorry about" She looked at him. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," he said. "You didn't," she said as she walked up to him, placing her hand against his chest. "Ok" he nodded as he looked at her. "It's complicated," she said. "I know," he said. "But I'm not an animal," he said. "But you are an Elf," She said. "That I am," he said. "You might have short tips but I caught on," she said. "I noticed," he chuckled slightly. "What?" she questioned. "You're not the first person to call me short tips," He said as he brushed the piece of hair from her face. "Oh I'm not?" she looked at him. "Someone special in your life," she said. "At one point she was," He nodded. "So tell me who you are," she said. "Just a lost elf trying to find his way," he said. "Lost elf, finding a girl who may or may not be the princess," she said. "Something like that," he smiled. "Oh something like that" she moved closer to him. "Tell me about yourself," she said. "I'll tell you that I want to kiss you," he said as he placed his hand against her hip, pulling her closer. "You do?" She leaned up on her tippy toes, allowing her breath to touch his skin. Making him want her that much more. "I do" he whispered as he moved to eliminate the space between them, placing his lips against hers.

She kissed him back, allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth. She gently tugged at his bottom lip as she wanted to get lost in his world, Lost in his touch, lost in who he was but was she in danger? He wrapped his arm around her as he kept the kiss between them. She pulled away resting her forehead against his, slowly catching her breath.

"Wow," he smiled. "I have some things I need to get done before nightfall," she said. "Arabella," he said as he grabbed her hand. "Yes?" She looked at him. "I hope that wasn't the last kiss," he said. "Stick around short tips" she smiled as she walked off.

He made his way back to the cabin to find Josh getting ready to get more wood. Wil offered to help and they were off to the woods.

"Can I ask how you met Arabella?" Wil asked. "It's complicated," Josh said. "Oh ok," Wil nodded and went to work. "So what about this elf healer?" he asked. "Some elf that has magic is supposed to come looking for a lost princess," Josh said. "Is Arabella the lost princess?" Wil asked as he kept his distance from Josh. "Yes she is the long-lost princess, that's why she needs to be kept safe" Josh said. "Safe from who exactly? Seems like you are the bad guy here" Wil said. "I'm not the bad guy, I just want to keep her safe" Josh said. "Those knights are animals," he said. "Animals?" Wil raised an eyebrow. "In what way?" he asked. "When she turned 16" Josh started to say. "But it's not my story to tell," he said as he cut himself off.

They didn't realize that Arabella was close enough to hear their convestations. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, that she was the lost princess. Why would Josh lie to her? Kidnap her? She had so many questions but wasn't sure if she wanted the answers. She moved closer to hear them better, without them noticing.

"I respect that, She will open up about that when she's ready" Wil nodded. "Yea I guess so," Josh said. "You are an Elf," Josh said as he looked at Wil. "Yes, I am an Elf" Wil nodded. "Maybe you can connect with Arabella better than I can, I don't understand Elfs," Josh said. "I guess we have the Elf thing in common," Wil said. "Can I ask why you kidnapped her?" Wil asked. "To get back at the king," Josh said. "In what way exactly?" Wil asked. Arabella had enough and decided to walk out so they could see her. "Arabella," Wil said. "So I am the long-lost princess," Arabella said. "Arabella," Josh said. "I don't want to hear it, you lied to me, you kidnapped me," She said. "I can explain, please," Josh said as he took a step closer to her. "No, don't!" She said as she took a step back. "I promise it was to keep you safe" Josh said. "I only need protecting from YOU," Arabella said as she pulled out her sword. "Arabella, be careful with that" Wil said. "He's lying to you as well! This is Wil Ohmsford who is looking for YOU" Josh said. "What?" Arabella looked at Wil.

Wil was caught off guard by Josh's words. He was caught in a trap and didn't know how to get out of this. Arabella walked around both of them like they were prey and she was going to kill them. She quickly got behind Josh, tripping him up onto the ground. Placing her sword against his chest.

"Please Arabella," Josh said. "Give me one reason," She said. "Arabella," Wil said. "Oh don't worry short tips, you are next" She glanced over at him. "I promise you are free to go" Josh pleaded for his life. "I know better than to listen to your lies," She said.

Josh closed his eyes knowing it was the end. He could feel the blade pressing against his chest. It was too easy for her so she backed off, allowing him back onto his feet. As soon as he stood up she knocked him down once again, this time getting him on his knees. She stood behind him with the blade against his throat.

"YOU are the reason why I was attacked, YOU are the reason why I'm always running," Arabella said. "I'm sorry," Josh said. "No, you are only sorry because you got caught," She said. "YOU are the reason why they took advantage of me," She said. "I'm sorry," he said once again. "Sorry you are a little too late," she said as she ran the blade across his throat, as his body fell to the ground she turned her attention to Wil. "I'm only here to bring you home," Wil said as he held up his hands. "Why should I believe you?" She asked. "I know it's hard to believe people, after everything you've been through," he said. "I should kill you," She said. "Maybe you should," he said as he moved closer to her. "But you won't," he said as he grabbed her hand with the sword.

He took the sword from her and placed his arm around her shoulders. The tears slipped from her eyes as she sobbed as he wrapped his arm around her. Rubbing her back as she cried against his chest. He knew at any moment she could flip and he needed to keep his guard up. He led her back to the cabin as it started to rain. She sat on the bed as he started a fire before joining her on the bed. He placed his arms back around her and just held her the rest of the night.

[lokiprompts21]

The Shifter - Chp 4

Summary: You go back into Loki's world, but you have a hard time remembering him. Things fall apart and Loki realizes he might lose you.

Warnings: Illness, blood, near death experience. Angst for days.

Words: ~4500

Other chapters on my master list.

           You wiped the blood from your nose and groaned.

           “A freakin’ nosebleed? Seriously? Good morning to me.” You slowly sat up and pinched the soft part of your nose, leaning forward a bit. This wasn’t your first nosebleed. It was actually quite common for you, but it was odd to have it this time of year. Typically, you got them during the colder months when the air was dryer, not now. And the headache? You felt like your head was splitting open.

           After some serious self-convincing, you hauled yourself out of bed. The pressure in your temple hit you like a ton of bricks and for a moment, you thought you might faint. Spots were forming in your eyes and your body felt like it was covered in pins and needles. A few terrifying minutes passed, and just as quickly as your symptoms came on, they went away. You sighed in relief.

           “Okay, that was scary.” You thought about calling your doctor, but the balance in your bank account told you that you better reconsider.

           “Yay, America.” You mumbled, making a pot of coffee. You had contacted your friend Amanda that morning to give you a ride to work. The auto shop would be looking at your car today since you had dropped it off last night after business hours. The impending bill made you nauseous, but you had to carry on. Make that good ol’ dollar.

           When Amanda arrived outside of your apartment building, she called you and you hopped in her car. Your head still hurt, but not nearly as bad as it did earlier.

           “You look terrible.” Your friend said bluntly, yet the worry in her voice was evident.

           “Yeah, I felt like I hadn’t slept at all. I had more of those vivid dreams.” You sighed, pressing your forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window.

           “Maybe lay off the fanfiction.” She teased, but you knew she was serious.

           “Actually, I haven’t read anything like that in quite a while. It is just stuck in my brain, I guess. It’s so weird. Each night, it picks up from where I left off. Like I am waking up in a dream world and walking around in it. Does that sound weird?”

           “A bit,” She looked at you from her peripheral, more worry on her face, “Just try and sleep tonight. Take something if you need to, okay?” You smiled at her and promised her you would make your sleep a priority. The friendship you shared with her was important to you and you cherished it. There weren’t many people in your life that you were close to, so you would take her advice to heart.

           “Was it spicy at least?” Amanda grinned and you laughed. Leave it to her, to jump from a serious topic to a sexual one.

           “No, it’s bizarre. I was talking to Loki, and I told him what you said about going for it and just sleeping with him.”

           “Then what happened?!” If she wasn’t driving, she would be on the edge of her seat. Both of her hands gripped the steering wheel as she waited for you to spill the tea.

           “He looked uncomfortable.” You said, sadly. Part of you considered that he was coming off shy, sheepish even, but your mind convinced you there was no way that was happening. Even in your dream. There was no way someone like Loki would ever look at you, or even think about sleeping with you.

           “Anyone would be BLESSED to have the privilege of even THINKING about having sex with you. You’re a hottie and if dream Loki doesn’t see it, he’s fucking stupid. But remember, it’s your dream.” She paused as she thought, “Maybe, that’s why you are having these reoccurring dreams. You are letting all these crazy situations happen to you. You’re a prisoner. You’re a test subject. All situations where you have no control.”

           She turned to you a bit as she continued, “Much like your life, right now. I think you need to go for what you want and take charge! Grip your dreams by the balls and make them your bitch.”

           You stared at her in awe, “You are better than any dream journal I have ever read.”

           She smirked, “I know.”

           The rest of the ride was cheerful. You enjoyed catching up with your friend. It honestly had been so long, and it was just what you needed before you stepped foot into the hell hole that was now your job. She dropped you off with a little wave and you went in, ready to face the day. Thankfully, it was uneventful. It was borderline boring, but you would take boring over the chaos that was yesterday. Still, your coworkers’ eyes were lingering on you as you kept to yourself for the day. You didn’t dare bring any attention to yourself and stepped out of the office when the auto shop called.

           Yep. It wasn’t anything good. For the cost of fixing the car, you might as well buy a new one. You would have to look into the local bus route, or a bike or something. Rubbing your temples, still fighting off your headache, you willed the clock to move.

           Amanda came to pick you up at the end of the day and dropped you off at your apartment. She had offered to spend the evening with you, chat about all the craziness that was going on in your life, but you just wanted to be alone. Your friend warned that isolation wasn’t the answer, but you told her that you were tired and wanted to sleep. It wasn’t a complete lie. Even though you knew you could be yourself around your friend, you didn’t want to fake a smile or even try to problem solve. All you wanted was a good wallow and your favorite movies.

           And that’s exactly what you did. You put on your comfiest clothes and made a blanket nest on the couch and turned on your favorite movie. Being snuggled up and exhausted pulled you into sleep quite easily.

           Again, you woke up in an unfamiliar room. The sun was shining through the window. Everything felt so familiar, like déjà vu, and it hurt you to not recognize why. Literally hurt. Every time you tried to think about it, a shooting pain went through your head, so you tried not to think too hard. You got up from the bed you were in and headed out to what looked like the living room. There was a knock on the door, and you froze.

           You tiptoed carefully across the floor, trying to be as quiet as a mouse, and pressed your ear against the door. There was some shuffling, then you heard a voice.

           “Dove, I can hear you on the other side. Come on out! It’s almost noon.”

           Something told you to open the door, even though you did not recognize the voice. You slowly opened it, peeking your head out cautiously and you greeted the tall, dark-haired man with a look of confusion. For a moment, he looked back at you, looking equally as confused until a look of realization spread across his face.

           “Ah. I’m Loki of Asgard.” He smiled at you, before quickly adding, “From the movies.”

           “Do I know you?” He looked so familiar, but you couldn’t place him. You rubbed your temple as you thought about it.

           Loki frowned as he looked down at your timid form, hiding behind the door with zero recognition in your eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, the wheels turning in his mind.

           “Ah, that usually works. Um…” You squint your eyes at the man who apparently is some actor. Frankly, he looked crazy and so you thought it was best to just close the door. You started to shut the door on him, when his boot jammed itself between the door and the frame, stopping you.

           “Hey, hey, now wait a minute, Dove. You don’t remember me?”

           Between the pounding in your head and his insistent rambling about you two knowing each other, you were so done. So done.

           “Let me close the door!” You snapped. Loki’s eyes went wide. He had seen you upset a couple of times, but never angry. Especially not at him. Each time you woke up in his world, you never remembered him, but you typically found your bearings within a few minutes and with a few key words. It was something that he caught on, very quickly. This was grossly different, and he was concerned. Worried, even. There was no way he was going to give up now.

           “Dove, I am worried about you. I think you need to see the doctor.” He insisted and hoped the worry that was written all over his features would convey his care, but he was still met with the same blank look.

           “You’re a creep! Leave or I will call the cops!” The anxiety was settling in your chest. There was some weirdo, outside of your door, insisting that he knew you and he wouldn’t let you close your door. You were terrified. The little tremble in your voice gave that away.

           “Okay, let me try and help you remember.” He reached forward, pushing his fingers through the crack in your door. The tips of his fingers glowed green as he tried to touch your temple and bring your memories forward. Instead, his plan failed horrible as you shrieked like he was trying to kill you.

           You jumped back from the door, and it flung open. Loki stepped in, his eyes now frantic and his hands flailing wildly in front of him as he tried to assure you that he didn’t mean to harm you.

           “No, no, no, Dove. Everything is fine. I am not here to hurt you.” Still, you kept on screaming and started to chuck things at him. Anything that you could get your hands on, you threw at him with all your strength. Lamps. Plates. The remote. He easily dodged them all, and it freaked you out even more. Who the hell is this guy? Which is what you shouted at him as you threw a drinking glass at him. It shattered on the wall behind him, and he flinched.

           “I told you! I’m Loki! You know me! You brought my mother back. Frigga! You were a prisoner here and and and,” He stammered as he rambled on, his own anxiety was sky high, “You told me you like to bake. We made cookies! Your, uh, your car broke down!”

           That stopped you. “How do you know about my car?”

           Loki let out a sigh of relief, thankful that your onslaught stopped at least temporarily, “You told me. You had a bad day at work and then your car broke down.” He looked at you with such hope in his eyes. He so badly wanted you to remember, but none of that mattered to you.

           “Stalker!!” You screeched before running into the kitchen, now desperate for some sort of protection. There was a butcher block on the counter, and you pulled out a large knife, pointing it at Loki. “Get out now!”

           Just as Loki opened his mouth to say something to you, more people piled into the room you were in, tripping over the broken debris on the floor. There were several people in black outfits and a very large man with blonde hair. The people in black all had guns and you froze, fear taking over your body and rendering you immobile. Your heart raced as you still held the knife up in your trembling hand, the tip still pointed at Loki.

           “What is going on here?” The blonde man asked Loki.

           “She doesn’t remember anything.” Loki replied. But, just as quickly as that little exchange happened, the people in black spotted the knife in your hand and drew their guns on you.

           “Put the knife down!” Voices rang out, echoing the same command over and over again. Your eyes darted all over from Loki to the guns that had fingers ready to pull the trigger and kill you.

           “You put your guns down, now!” Loki roared, stepping right in front of you and the line of fire, “She is under the protection of New Asgard and if you dare harm her, you won’t live long enough to regret it.” His tone left no room for questioning. You had no idea who this guy was, but you knew he was a force to be reckoned with. All the guns were lowered immediately, and Loki turned to face you. You were shaking uncontrollably, and you knew he was speaking to you, but you didn’t hear anything. It was all static.

           You felt wetness on your face and the hand not holding the knife shot up to your face. Your nose was bleeding. Just as you saw the red on your fingertips, everything went black.

           The next time you opened your eyes, all you saw white. Blinding white. You squinted as you tried to adjust to the bright light. Everything felt groggy and hazy. There was a sharpness in your arm as you tried to move it. You heard faint beeping.

           “Shh, shh, Dove. Don’t try to move.” You turned your head towards the voice. The blurry image of someone standing near you came into focus. It looked like he wanted to reach out, to touch you, but he stopped himself.

           “Loki?” You hoarsely whispered.

           “Oh, thank the Norns!” Loki was at your side in an instant, cupping your hand between both of his large ones.

           “What happened? Why does my arm hurt?” You had to close your eyes, the brightness too much.

           “They are giving you an IV. Try not to move your arm.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and you returned it, “You….didn’t remember me.”

           “Again?” That made him laugh, but it sounded sad, if a laugh could sound sad.

           “Yes, again, but nothing I did helped. You panicked, Dove and you collapsed.” He let out a shuddered breath, his voice becoming shaky as he tried to articulate what happened, “Your nose was bleeding, and you were convulsing on the floor.” There was a long moment of silence and it forced you to open your eyes to look at him. He wasn’t looking at you, instead, his head was down, and his own eyes were focused on your joined hands. “You stopped breathing, Dove.”

           He looked at you, like you weren’t really there, like you were a figment of his imagination. Tears were now falling freely down his face. You went to lift your hand, to wipe away the tears, but the IV in your arm made you wince and quickly lower it. He flashed you a watery smile, clearly trying to put on a brave face.

           “I am okay, Dove. I am just glad you are okay. You scared me.” With each word, you saw Loki’s wall build up brick by brick. “That was really quite rude.” He teased.

           “I’m sorry that I scared you, Mischief.” You squeezed his hand again, your body aching and immobile, but it was at least something, “Good thing this is a dream.”

           He frowned and looked at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out what to say, “This isn’t a dr-“

           Before he could finish, Dr. Strange came into the room, carrying a clipboard while still in his sorcerer’s garb. The look was oddly humorous to you, so you let a laugh slip out.

           “Ah, you’re awake! I am glad you find me amusing,” Strange grinned, peeking over the clipboard as he flipped through its contents, “How are you feeling?”

           You shifted a bit in the bed, now realizing how stiff your body felt, “I’m tired. Sore. I have a bit of a headache.”

           Strange nodded, before pulling up a stool and taking a seat on the other side of your bed, across from Loki. “You had a pretty bad seizure, Y/N. You’re lucky you were in the tower and that we were able to treat you quickly. Your heart stopped and we had to resuscitate you.” You felt Loki’s hand gripped yours just a bit tighter after Strange said that.

“You’re lucky to have him,” The doctor jutted his chin out to Loki, and you stiffly turned your head to look at the God who still held your hand like it was the most precious thing to him. “He carried you here, likely saved your life.”

           You smiled at Loki, and he smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. This was the saddest you had ever seen him. The thoughts in your brain were still a bit scrambled as you tried to process why that was, but Strange brought your focus back to him.

           “Your mind cannot handle your unintentional dream walking between the multiverses. It is causing you to have seizures.” Those words might as well have been in another language to you. Everything was jumbled.

           “What?” Your eyes darted back and forth, as you tried to focus, but it proved fruitless.

           Strange cleared his throat, “I’m sorry. Things may be a bit confusing for you right now, so I will try to explain this as simply as I can. When you dream, you come here. Your mind can’t handle that, and it is affecting your body.”

           You closed your eyes, still feeling incredibly groggy. “But I like being here.” Strange and Loki shared a look as you stilled.

           “What will happen to her?” Loki asked, looking down at your frail body. He had come to your room to take you on a trip around New York, but everything went downhill so quickly. From your screams, to the guns being drawn, to you collapsing on the floor. Loki could count on one hand the times he was genuinely terrified. That moment was now added to that list.

           You dropped like a sack of potatoes on the floor, blood pouring from your nose like a faucet. Loki was at your side in an instant, but his hand flew away from your body as soon as you started to twitch, convulse then stiffen in unnatural positions on the floor. Your eyes rolled back in your head and blood started to come from the side of your mouth from biting your tongue. Loki had never seen anything like this in his thousands of years of life, and it scared him, but when your face turned blue  - that was when he truly became terrified.

           “What’s happening to her?!” He called out, absolutely at a loss of what to do, “She’s not breathing!” He quickly tried to summon his magic to try and help you. He knew it was a long shot to start off with. Usually, he needed to know what was wrong to heal you, but he would try anything now to stop whatever was happening to you. He was desperate to fix you. Green sparks started and stopped as they misfired on his fingertips. He was so anxious and distraught; he couldn’t use his magic properly.

           He turned to Thor and the group of Shield Agents behind him and yelled out, tears in his eyes, “Someone help her!!”

           One of the agents ran over to you, and quickly turned you on your side to try and help you breathe. They looked at their watch, timing how long your seizure was, and as more time passed, they became more and more concerned.

           “You’re not doing anything!” Loki yelled at the agent next to him.

           They didn’t look at him, but they winced at his loudness, “There isn’t anything we can do right now, but wait.”

           After a few minutes, your body fell limp, but you still weren’t breathing. The agent put two fingers on your pulse point, “Their heart stopped. We have to get them to the Med Bay right now!” Loki didn’t need any other instruction. He scooped you up in his arms and bolted down the hall and down several stairs, not wanting to wait for an elevator. He considered teleporting you, but he didn’t know if your fragile body could handle that. He couldn’t risk you.

           There were some medics in the room, but no doctors that Loki recognized. He put you down on the gurney, calling desperately for help as people swarmed around you. They tried to get him to leave, but he remained unmoved, insisting that he stay near you. It was something he immediately regretted as he watched them try to bring life back into your little body. One of the medics placed the paddles of the defibrillator to your chest and with a shock, your body bolted off the table. Your heartrate remained flatlined and your body was eerily still.

           Loki couldn’t help but think of your time together in the kitchen just a few hours before. How playful you were and how you ran your fingers through his hair. Now you were dying. Or dead. He covered his mouth as he started to sob, the feeling of helplessness wrecking him to his core.

           Again, they shocked you, your chest lifting off the table. Loki waited, holding his own breath as he prayed to the Norns for your breath to return. The flatlined remained. Loki could see the shared looks among the medical team. They weren’t optimistic, but again they placed the paddles on your body. With one last shock, Loki finally heard that sweet sound.

           Your heartbeat registered on the monitor.

           “Loki?” Dr. Strange’s voice pulled Loki from his memories, and he was thankful for that as tears threatened to spill over.

           “Yes, I am sorry, Doctor. Can you please repeat that?”

           “If this continues,” Strange swallowed thickly as he looked down at your resting form, “She will die. I am looking into the mystical texts to see if there is anything we can do to help her, to stop this from happening. I’m sorry. I will be checking on her progress, please let the nurses know if anything changes and I will keep you informed of my findings.”

           Loki and Dr. Strange were never on good terms, but the God appreciated his kindness and mercy he was now freely giving. All Loki did was nod, and Strange left without another word.

           “Loki?” Your voice croaked. Loki winced, unsure of how much of that you heard or understood.

           “Yes, Dove?”

           “Lay with me?” Loki looked at the narrow hospital bed, but he could hardly resist your request. He walked on the other side of you, to avoid the IVs that were still connected to your small arm, and he climbed in right next to you. He wrapped a loose arm around your waist, and you turned your head towards him. Your eyes remained close, but you gave him a sleepy smile that warmed his heart. He wondered if this is what waking up next to you was like. The thought simultaneously made him happy, yet so incredibly sad.

           His time with you was limited.

           It wasn’t his intention to get attached to you, but something about you drew him to you. You came crashing into his life, turning it upside down by bringing his mother back from the grave, and has since filled his life with unrelenting acceptance and selflessness. It was something he never thought he deserved, but you told him he did deserve it. And he believed you.

           “I had a hell of a day, Mischief.” You said, your voice drowsy and slurring.

           Loki laughed, “You sure did, Dove.” When the doctor spoke to you, the words were all jumbled, but with Loki, it was crystal clear.

           “Work was fine, but the auto shop called. My car is totaled, and I can’t afford another one. I’m so worried.” Loki studied your features as he listened to you. He realized that you had no recollection of what happened in the Tower earlier that day. While he was thankful that you were spared the trauma of that, he couldn’t help but worry more.

           “Maybe I can ask the Man of Iron to give you a car. He has too many as it is.” Loki decided to play along, not seeing the point in causing you stress or confusing you. He didn’t know how long he had with you, so he wanted to make sure that time with you was happy.

           You laughed a bit, and it brought a twinge of joy to Loki’s heart on this sad day, “That wouldn’t work. You’re in my dream. You’re not in my world.”

           “I will find you then.”

           As you laid next to Loki, wrapped up in his arms, you became more and more sleepy. You yawned a little bit and you felt Loki’s arm grip you tighter. You didn’t see the fear that was in his eyes that your yawn brought him, “I am sure you would, Mischief. Will you do something for me?”

           “Anything.”

           “Kiss me.”

           Loki’s heart fluttered in his chest, “What?”

           Your smile grew wider, your eyes remaining closed, “I always wondered what it would be like.”

           “Are you not worried about your lover? Uh, Stephen?”

           You shook your head, “No. As my friend said, dreams don’t count. And besides...” You peeked open one eye to look at the man next to you. His curls were all around his head on the white hospital pillow. The blue of his eyes was sparkling as they stared back at you, “I would leave him for you in a heartbeat.”

           “You- you w-would?” Loki stammered. You didn’t register his tone of disbelief, and only hummed a bit in confirmation, letting your eyes slip close again.

           Loki licked his lips, his eyes flicking down to mouth. He scooched himself a bit closer to you, his hand gripping your waist just a bit tighter. There was nothing more than he wanted to do than drag you right into his chest, but the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor reminded him that he had to be careful with you. You, his fragile mortal.

           His lips ghosted over yours, lighting brushing against your soft, sensitive skin. Finally, after one lats moment of hesitation, he closed the distance between the two of you. It was gentle, sweet, and tender. You strained your neck to push your lips harder against his, trying to deepen the kiss. The heartrate monitor was beeping wildly as your heart thudded in your chest. Loki heard it after getting lost in the kiss and broke away from you.

           You smiled contently, “That was nice. Like everything I had dreamed.” You laughed a bit at your joke, and again you yawned, nestling closer into your pillow, and drinking in the man that laid next to you one last time before you closed your eyes again.

           “Don’t leave me, Dove. Stay with me.” His words were pleading, and you missed the tears that were falling onto the bed next to you. Little did you know, the thought of your death was making a God crumble to pieces.

           But his begging fell on deaf ears as you fell into a deep sleep. As soon as he heard your quiet snores, he choked out a sob, burying his face into your shoulder.

           He had to figure out how to save you.

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

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