#its gonna stick out his mouth a lot i can jut tell

[cowboy-turtle]

Stress Relief

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Words: 3900

Tags: Oral (M & F Receiving), Masturbation, P in V Sex, Mention of Javi’s Jaw Tick (which should come with its own disclaimer honestly) 

Notes: Happy Friday! Another Spicy Pascalitos co-write with Katie, Queen of Chaos & Ruler of the Javi Sluts

The turn of a key in the door grabs your attention. It’s already 10pm and you had just started to wonder if Javi was gonna end up stuck at work all night. You know he’s been going through a lot lately -  a lot of dead ends with information not panning out, Pablo and his sicarios always seeming to be one step ahead.

You make your way to the door as it opens and Javi steps inside. You can tell how tense he is by the way he’s clenching his jaw, letting it tick slightly to the right. That fucking jaw tick - you love it, it turns you on instantly every time you see it, even though you know it’s because he’s stressed. Maybe it’s because it usually leads to incredible sex...

"Hi...long day?" you ask, wrapping your arms around him as you greet him. You take in his smell of whiskey and cigarettes, a scent you used to despise but now you crave it.

"I've had better," he grunts, placing one of his hands across your back and the other on your cheek, brushing the hair out of your face. He leans his face into yours and places a soft kiss on your lips. God, he’s delicious. As he starts to pull away you grab him by his belt loops, causing him to crash back into you, hard. Your lips meet each other again, hungrily this time, you can feel his tension in the way he’s kissing you and you want to do what you can to help.

You bite on his bottom lip causing him to wince as your hands move towards his belt buckle, fumbling to free his cock which is now hard and pressing against his zipper.

“Princesa,” he moans into you, “what do you think you’re doing.” “Please, Javi” you plead as you finally get his jeans open, licking your lips at the sight of his erection. “You’re stressed, I want to help.”

Javi moves both hands up to your face pressing his lips into yours before taking a step back, you take it as a sign to keep going. You sink to your knees quickly, eyes going wide at Javi’s impressive length, you’ll never get used to it.

You bite your lip, grabbing his thighs and looking up at him through your eyelashes. His eyes are screwed shut and his upper body is leaning against the door.

“I wanna make you feel good Javi.” with that you take the tip of him in your mouth, swirling your tongue along the soft skin. Javi places a hand on your face and uses his thumb to stroke your cheek. You look up at him again as you take his cock further into your mouth. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and lets his hand fall away from your face, his head moving back to rest against the door. From this angle you can see his throat and jaw perfectly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

You close your eyes and allow your head to move in a rhythm with his dick in your mouth, he was too large for you to take all of him without choking so you move one hand up from his thigh to wrap around the base of him.

“Fuck baby,” he moans lowly, his hips canting ever so slightly forward as you dip your head back towards him. You watch his fingers scratch against the wood of the doorframe behind him and know he’s trying his best not to push you, but that’s the last thing you care about right now. You lean backward on the balls of your feet and pop him out of your mouth to the sound of his groan. You use the slick of your saliva to pump the head of his dick as you stare up at his tensed expression.

“Javi,” you whisper in your bedroom voice that drives him wild. “I want you to use me.”

You meet his dark gaze as he studies you, your curled fist still pleasuring him as you wait for his next move. One of his hands reaches out to hold your chin softly, bumping your face up more.

“You’d like that?” he asks, a thumb swiping your swollen lower lip as you open your mouth to swirl your tongue around the finger.

“Yes, sir,” you smirk back, and his thumb presses down harder.

“Then open wider.” You oblige, your tongue sticking out as he leans forward towards you, spitting into your mouth as you moan.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, removing his hand. “Show me how much you want it.”

You hear his words as a challenge and lean forward again to his hardened cock. You know how sensitive his tip is and spend your time there, swirling your tongue and stiffening it to swipe at the underside of it, eliciting a hissed response from above you. You slowly suck it into your mouth and hollow out your cheeks, easing down his length as Javi cards his fingers through your hair, slightly gripping your scalp.

You drink in his sounds of pleasure as you bob your head onto him, taking more and more of him until you gag slightly, stilling yourself as your nose barely tickles against his curls.

“F-fuck,” he breathes, “take me so good.”

You moan at his praise and the vibrations from your throat make his thighs shake slightly from underneath him. You try to take more of him but only gag again, and his hands on your head stop you.

“What, you like that?” he chuckles darkly. “Like choking on my cock, princesa?”

You glance up at him, tears pricking your eyes as his jaw slackens at the look on your face.

“Keep going,” he whispers, as you look back down to withdraw slowly to the tip before sucking him back into your mouth, your head starting to move faster at his groans of encouragement. Your tongue flicks against the underside of his cock and you can feel his body start to stiffen against you. His fingers tighten against your scalp as you feel his hips start to buck, unable to stop from fucking your hot mouth.

“Yes baby,” he pants, his eyes screwed shut as you meet his thrusts, your jaw starting to hurt from how thick he is. “Yes, righ-oh, oh fuck.” You feel his movements start to stutter and know he’s getting close.

“Wanna cum on that pretty face, Princesa,” he moans. You withdraw your mouth with a wet popping sound, a string of saliva following your mouth as his cock is absolutely drenched from you. You twist your wrist against his length and jerk him off as one of his hands leaves your hair to grasp at the door behind him.

“Please Javi,” you beg, voice slightly shaky and hoarse from your raw throat. “Please cum for me.”

He groans something low and sinful that travels straight to your pussy as he bucks into your hand and you open your mouth wide and expectant for him. He takes one look at your face and his expression crumbles, gasping quickly as his cock twitches and spurts in your hand, coating your mouth and dribbling down your chin. He shakily slows down his speed as you pump your hand a few more times until he shivers from oversensitivity. Withdrawing your hand slowly, you bring it up to your mouth and meet his eyes as you swallow and lick your fingers clean. He reaches down to swipe his finger across your chin, gathering the rest to bring it up to your lips and you happily accept, your tongue sucking against him until he slides his fingers back out.

“Alright, Princesa, my turn,” Javi says, catching his breath. “As much as I love seeing how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, you know that hearing you scream my name is my favorite way to de-stress.”  

With all of the uncertainty he faces every day at work there is one place Javier Peña has control over and that is here, in this bedroom, between your thighs. No matter what type of day he has or what’s going on in his life, his main concern has always been you.

You look up at him, licking the corner of your mouth to gather up that last bit of his cum, savoring his taste. His words send a fire straight to your core as if you weren’t wet enough from having him in your mouth, from the noises you were able to draw from him. You were soaked through your sleep shorts, pussy quivering in anticipation for what Javi was going to do next.

He reaches a hand to the back of your neck and guides you up to him. “Jav-” he cuts you off with his mouth crashing into yours once more, his tongue seeking entry as he desperately needs more of you. He lets out a moan as his free hand begins to explore your body, gliding under your shirt as he grabs your right breast in his hand, rolling your nipple between the pads of his fingers. You groan into his mouth as he leans back against the door once more and juts his leg between your thighs, providing your clit some much needed pressure as you begin to roll your hips and seek your own high.

“So wet already,” he coos, feeling your arousal through your shorts on his thigh. “All this for me? You like it when I fuck your mouth?”

His hand on your neck reaches back into your hair and yanks you back as his face buries itself in your breasts, alternating between kisses and soft bites before taking your nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the hardening peak. When he’s satisfied with his work he moves to the other side, murmuring praises and peppering kisses as he works his way across your chest. Your movements on his thigh become more erratic as the heat of an orgasm begins to build when you feel Javi’s hand make its way to the front of your throat and he lifts you off of him.

“Now mi amor, let’s move somewhere a little more comfortable for the both of us.”

You let out a whine, already missing the friction between your legs as he turns you around.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed,” he commands, giving you a little shove forward with his palm between your shoulder blades. You do as you’re told, dropping clothes on your way when you hear the turn of the deadbolt. Javi turns and chuckles seeing the trail of your clothes leading to the door. Following suit, he kicks off his jeans, the buckle landing on the floor with a thud, and undoes the remainder of his shirt buttons, dropping it to the floor.

His footsteps approach slowly as you lay on the bed, legs slightly open. Your hand drifts down your body until it’s between your thighs, running your fingers along the wet slit of your entrance before finding their place on your clit, desperate not to lose that climax you were so close to achieving. The sound of his footsteps stops and you look up through your knees to see his silhouette in the doorway leaning against the frame.

“Go on,” he says with a smirk and wipes his bottom lip with his thumb. “I’m enjoying the view.”

You smile devilishly back at him and return to your ministrations, slowly crooking a finger in and gasping at the sensation of your wet heat. Your mouth falls open as you start fucking yourself, never breaking eye contact with Javi as he observes you from the doorway. You had been playing up your noises of pleasure, on the brink of a pornographic performance for Javi, but they soon turn into unprovoked whimpers as you drag your soaked fingers back up to your swollen clit. Your eyes had closed to focus on building back up to your climax, and when you peek back to Javi you see him slowly pumping his growing erection, already hardening again as his dark eyes drink in your pussy. A soft whine escapes your lips as you close your eyes again, speeding up your fingers at the image of him touching himself to you.

You start to breathe in short pants as you near your orgasm again, your other hand grabbing your breast to roll your nipple.

“Are you close, baby?” Javi’s gruff voice asks from a distance.

“Yes,” you moan, back starting to arch off the bed as you feel the beginning tingles overtake you. You know in a few more seconds you’ll be over the edge, and your core begins to tense up in anticipation.

Your fingers are suddenly ripped away from your pussy as you shoot your eyes open, a sharp cry escaping your lips as your fleeting orgasm crumbles just as quickly as it was built. You buck your hips against nothing, toes curled as you’re left panting, staring up at Javi angrily as he grips your wrist in his large hand.

“I thought I said I wanted to hear you scream my name,” he growls.

You shudder slightly at the deep register of his domineering voice, your anger dissolving.

“I-I will,” you tremble out, “I promise. Please, let me be good for you.” You shift to release your wrist but he only holds it tighter, bringing your wet fingers to his mouth and slowly enveloping them with his tongue. He closes his eyes with a sigh, lapping up your arousal from your fingertips as you let out a whimper.

“Please, Javi,” you plead again, squirming underneath him. “Please let me finish.”

His eyes open to study you once again. “Fine,” he relents, “but only because you taste so fucking good.”

He presses a kiss to your palm but doesn’t release your wrist, holding it to your side instead, as he sinks down in front of you. You have to remind yourself to breathe as he admires your glistening cunt for a moment, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee and then slowly dragging his tongue up towards your heat. You clench around nothing, but then his mouth is only panting hot breaths against you, taking in your scent before he’s licking down the other thigh. Your hips buck up as he makes another pass, his mustache rubbing against your skin as he chuckles darkly.

“Javi,” you cry out impatiently.

“There we go,” he smiles, biting lightly at the juncture of your thigh that causes you to yelp. He soothes the mark with swirls of his hot tongue, so close to where you want him that you’re writhing underneath him.

“Javi,” your voice wavers his name desperately. “Please, Javi, pl---”

You gasp as his tongue finally swipes your slit, teasing against it as if asking for permission to enter. You roll your hips against the sensation and he hums against you as he spreads his palm against your stomach to keep you down. Finally, so achingly slow, he stiffens his tongue and drags it into your heat, plunging it inside you and tracing it up to your clit. He groans at your taste, his pupils blown out watching you as he flicks his tongue lightly. You’re already so sensitive that the shockwaves of his teeth grazing your clit reverberate through you with so much more intensity as you shudder underneath him.

The quick, sharp pain of his teeth is soon replaced with his tongue once more, and he alternates between heavy, insistent swipes and quick, light circles as he edges you closer. His hand releases your wrist and you curl it into his hair, pulling lightly and gasping at the vibrations of his groan. He slides his hand down to grab your ankle, shifting your leg up and over his shoulder to rest on his broad back. The new position changes the angle of his mouth against you, and then you feel two of his fingers slide into you with ease. He starts fucking you open, tongue keeping pace with his thrusts as low moans vibrate in his chest at the sounds of you moaning out his name, unable to stop yourself. The air is heavy with the slick sounds of his mouth and fingers in you, and you grab onto the sheets to anchor yourself as you begin to tense up. He hums his approval, and then you feel his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against it and twirling it with a heavenly pressure that’s sending you over the edge.

Your thighs clamp down around his head as you lift up, eyes clenched shut as you’re screaming his name. Your orgasm feels like jolts of electricity, shaking and tensing the muscles all over your body, and all you can do is accept the wracks of pleasure consuming you. The blood rushing in your ears stops you from hearing your voice call out oh, Javi and oh, God over and over, almost as if the two were interchangeable.

You’re still shuddering through aftershocks as Javi slowly draws away from you, sliding out his fingers to observe the wetness leaking out of you.

“So pretty, mi amor,” he sighs as if enjoying a work of art. He kisses your thigh and you shake again, a small gasp escaping your throat.

“God, Javi” you start when you’re finally able to string words together. “That was-“

“Oh we are not done yet,” he says, placing kisses on your hips, then across your stomach, working his way up your body in symmetry and he climbs onto the bed, making sure not to miss a single spot. He takes in a deep breath in the crook of your neck as he lowers himself down, leg thrown over yours, erection pressing into your hip, when he drags his fingers through your wet folds and brings them up to your mouth.

“Open up, baby,” he says as he looks at you and brings, eyes still dilated and dark with lust. “Want you to see how good you taste.”

You do as he says and take him into your mouth and swirl your tongue around them, moaning at the tangy taste of your arousal. You feel his cock twitch in response to your sounds and he shifts his weight over you, removing his fingers from your lips with a pop. He drags his length along your wet cunt as he captures your mouth with his once more, pressing you into the pillows behind you. His arms find their place on either side of your head as he toys with you, rocking his hips against yours and allowing the friction to build between your thighs but not giving you the full contact you seek. You wrap your arms under him, nails dragging down his back as you try to pull him in closer to you, sending a shiver down his back. The heat begins to build within you once more and you roll your hips up, meeting his motions as he gathers your arousal until he stops suddenly, the tip of his cock pressing lightly against your entrance.  

“Javi, I need you” you moan into his mouth.

“Tell me, baby” he responds, his tone softer this time. “Tell me what you need from me.”

“I need you to fu-“ Javi thrusts into you with ease and you let out a surprised gasp, not expecting the sudden fullness. He’s deliberate with his movements, pulling out slowly until just the tip of him remains before slamming back into you. You wrap your legs around him in an attempt to pull him in deeper, grinding your hips with each pump into you. He’s drawing it out, waiting to hear you scream for more and you’re happy to give it to him.

“Oh, fuck, Javi” you exclaim, “Move. Faster. please.”

He picks up his pace, your hips bucking up to meet his rhythm but he’s still careful, not wanting to reach his release before you come undone beneath him once more.

“Feel so good, baby,” he coos, “always so fucking tight.” He slips his arm under your right leg and brings it up over his shoulder, switching the angle and allowing him to reach even deeper into you. That does it. This slight change in position has him hitting that perfect spot with every thrust and your next orgasm builds at a rapid pace. Your right hand digs into the bedsheets, desperate to find something to ground you as your other hand continues to grasp at his shoulder. Your breaths shift to guttural cries - the sounds of your pleading and cries of his name fill the air and mixes with the sinful noises of his hips meeting yours. It doesn’t take long before you’re right on the edge.

“Javi, yes, right there!” you say between breaths, “I’m so close!”

His hand finds its way around your throat with a firm yet gentle squeeze as he leans into you.

“So cum for me, Princesa,” he growls into your ear. “Now.”

And just like that your second orgasm rushes over you, stronger than the first, and you’re seeing stars. You try to scream out Javi’s name but his hand around your throat keeps you quiet, letting it out in a breathy moan instead. Nails digging into his back, you clench around him as you cum, sending him right over the edge with you. His grip around your throat finally loosens as he reaches his own peak, you feel his cock twitch as he empties himself into you and cries out your name.

The shift of his hand from your throat lets you free your leg which you return to around his waist, pulling your bodies together. You tangle your hands in his hair, kissing him deeply as you ride out your orgasms until you’re both breathless, reveling in each other’s warmth. Javi reaches a hand up to your cheek and cups your face gently, smiling down at you with his soft brown eyes before placing a tender kiss on your nose and forehead. You stay like this for a few minutes before he slips out of you, making you wince slightly at the loss of warmth.

“Thank you, Princesa,” he whispers before getting out of the bed and walking to the bathroom. You hear some shuffling around and Javi comes back in with a damp washcloth. He places a soft kiss on the inside of each knee and carefully cleans you up before tossing the washcloth to the side and climbing back up into bed next to you. He slides an arm under your shoulder and rolls you over onto him, his warm hand spread across your back as his thumb gently strokes your spine. You throw your leg over his and place your hand on his chest, drawing little circles as you place a kiss on his jaw.

“Thank you for what?” you finally ask.

Javier draws in a breath before placing another kiss on your forehead. “For this. For taking care of me. For everything.”

[bitchassbucky]

Ｂｏｔｈｅｒ

📎Word Count: 2.2k

📎Warning/s: smut! minors DNI. mean!fuckboy!bucky x f!reader. unprotected sex. little to no foreplay, because, well, he just wants to get his dick wet. denied orgasm :( no aftercare too lol he’s an asshole in this one. messy facial! some heckin’ words.

📎A/N: jesus fuckiNG CHRIST okay this is one of my longer fics, i’m trying to get back into writing long fics again so, bear with me. fuckboy!bucky playlist to accompany you while reading this <3 

📎reblogs, likes, and comments are all welcomed! shower me with validation pls

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

The bass line and the drumbeat made your heart pump in sync. The room reeked of cheap drinks and expensive perfume—sweaty patrons swirling, mingling around, keeping their drinks cold, their hearts warm.

Chatter peaked when the band finished the song, a round of applause rising the frontman’s ego. The spotlight shone brightly on him, the stage lights hitting his back, lighting up his silhouette with pinks and purples.

He beams with adrenaline. All perfect smiles.

Slinging his stickered guitar to the side, he speaks into the mic, “thank you all for coming. We’ve been The Commandos. Goodnight!” The frontman flashes his million-dollar, megawatt smile and bows, earning another applause from the audience.

The rest of the band slinked out the back, bowing, giving out air-kisses and waves. Another band piles onto the stage, waving hello to the gathering crowd.

You sigh, the bottom of your shoes sticking to the dirty floor of the bar. The overhead lights of the bar a bright yellow contrast to the stage’s red hue. The beer in your hand condensing, the tips of your fingers damp in the process. The warmth of the place piling on your impatience.

Pushing yourself off the bar, you make your way to the back, one thing echoing in your mind. Familiar faces crowd your vision, sending a polite smile their way.

A door stands in front of you, the wood stained with stickers and posters and autographs. You knock twice before turning the knob.

“Where’s Bucky?” You say, leaning against the door frame. The door slowly swings open.

A blonde man, what’s-his-face, looks at you and puts down a pair of drumsticks, “‘Dunno what to tell ya, but he’s not here.”

Your roll your eyes, sending him a mirthless smile, “yeah, obviously. I was hoping if you could tell him to meet me tonight.”

Steve—you suddenly remembered his name—eyed you head to foot, a smirk plastered on his face, “Sounds important. Why don’t you hang out with us while waiting for him?”

A chuckle escapes your lips, “no, thanks. I’ll meet him outside.”

Steve makes a face, quirking a light brow to the rest of the group. All of them sharing the same look, “alright. Suit yourself.”

The clock ticks just ten minutes after 11, your patience growing thin as a needle. A gaggle of drunk patrons stumbles out the door when you spot him—leather jacket, distressed, ripped pants.

“Where’s my ring?” Without missing a beat.

Bucky’s lips quirk into a smirk, “whoa, baby, we fucked once,” he made you come thrice, “and you’re asking for a ring already?”

A shiver runs up your spine, whether it’s from disgust or something else, it wasn’t clear, “you know what I meant. I left my ring on your nightstand.”

“Deliberately, or…”

Your hands curl up in frustration, your left shin itching, “c’mon. Do you have it or not?” 

His intentionally undone boots scuffed against the floor as he stalks closer to you, his perfume invading your olfactory senses. Oh, he smells good. 

“D’you wanna find out?” His voice dropping a couple of octaves, whispering into the shell of your ear. His thick arms caging you against the bar and the wall. Fuck, he smells really good.

A feeble attempt to make room goes unnoticed, your breath hitching in your throat, “If you don’t have it on you, I’d gladly receive it through the mail.”

Bucky licks his tinged lips, a vein in his temple ticking—the lighting reflecting in his blue eyes, “why would I mail it to you when you can pick it up from my place?”

A rational voice in your head echoes, fighting with your impulse. The closeness of both of your bodies radiating warmth and electricity.

“Fine.” You relented, impulsivity is what got you there in the first place.

The drive to the place shouldn’t take too long, the little shit deliberately took the long way to his place. 

While you sit on the passenger side of his car, he keeps sending you amused glances. As if he couldn’t believe you’d willingly go with him tonight. Well, technically, it really wasn’t part of your plan.

“You wanna get burgers first?” He offers, lowering the music coming from the car’s stereo.

“I wanna get my ring back, Bucky.” You say, reminding him—and yourself—of what your agenda for tonight is.

He dismisses you, as per usual. And pulls over a drive-through of a local burger place, ordering himself a meal.

Instead of getting back out on the highway, he parks the car, rolls down the window, and eats.

“Jesus- fuck, Bucky!” You exclaimed in frustration, “look, if you want to waste my time, then-”

“Then, what?”

“Then go fuck yourself.” You left in a huff, swinging your legs and slamming the car door shut. Hoping that he’d go deaf in one ear.

Making sure that you’re well visible and in a brightly-lit place, you pull out your phone to book an Uber. Only to find Bucky making his way to you for the second time tonight.

“Hey!” Didn’t even used your name to call you, great work!

“I do have it, it’s really back in my place. By the lamp on the bedside table.” The truth lingers out on the night air, waiting for you to acknowledge it.

You meet Bucky’s statement with a wary squint, he meets your rightful doubt with a smile.

“No more stopovers.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bucky’s place is a liminal space for you. 

The familiar shadows and corners welcome you, the surfaces on where your bare skin sat hissed at you. You stood by the doorway, not wanting to prolong the journey.

“Hey, c’mon, it’s just me. Sit down.” Exactly, it is him.

You shake your head, leaning by the wall like a stranger, “I’m good. You’re not gonna take long anyway.”

But instead of retrieving your jewelry, his form retreats to the kitchen. A few seconds pass and you hear the crack and hiss of a beer bottle being opened.

“Y’know, I think I’ll just get it myself.” You toe off your shoes, placing them by the door. Your jacket still hanging off your shoulders.

You passed by Bucky, walking towards a love seat, two beers on one hand, “hurry up, then. Got a drink for ya.”

Hazy images play by memory the last time you were here, his damn cologne seeping into your nostrils.

Your head hanging by the edge of the bed as he laps your cunt like a man starved.

The headboard supporting your balance as you bounce up and down his thick cock.

Carpeting that gave your knees burn as he fucked you from behind.

Like an etch-a-sketch, you shake your head to get rid of the scenes that made themselves known.

A shining glint from the bedside table catches your eye, you swipe the ring and stashed it down your jacket pocket.

Coming out of the room with your ring, your slight smile falters as you saw Bucky lounging shirtless. As rightfully so, this is his home anyway.

You steeled yourself despite the heat that’s making its way up to your neck, “uh, I already got it. Thanks, Bucky.”

He shoots you a look—a lingering one. Like a predator about to pounce on prey. His stare chasing the goosebumps under your clothes.

“You sure you wanna go? It’s–” he glances at his phone for the time, “–past midnight.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.” The setup.

“How about I take care of you for a change?” The trap.

And then just as sudden as your arrival, you find yourself pressed up against the wall. The agenda of the night has already been forgotten.

Bucky’s mouth finds its temporary home on your jaw, moving down your neck. His large hands already clawing their way under your shirt, the suddenness of the moment stirring the heat in your belly.

Rushed hands and panted breaths meet feverish lips.

The moment his tongue slipped into your mouth was the moment where you lost all inhibitions. Your hands fly to his nape, tugging his hair, effectively making him moan into your mouth.

“You know me so well.” He purrs against your lips. Hitching your legs up his hips as he presses you harder against the drywall.

“Lots of people know you so well.” You bite back, knowing for a fact that he sees others behind your back.

“True,” he’s murmuring against your pulse point and you sigh, “you’re my favorite though.”

Your jacket clutters against the floor of his bedroom, along with his pants and your shirt. A yellow stream of light emits from the living room.

Bucky tosses you on the bed, sending the pillows crashing on the floor. Though the room is darkened with curtains, your eyes adjust enough to see him as he pulls your ankles towards him.

His abs are chiseled like a Greek god, his skin tanned, decorated with tattoos. His left nipple adorns a stainless steel piercing. Like the last time, he grabs your hand, trailing it along his torso, letting you feel his deep v-lines.

A lewd moan escapes your lips as you cup his hardening cock through his boxers. Thick and heavy, a perfect fit.

“You like it?” Bucky taunts, jutting his hips against your hand. You squeeze him lightly, earning you a deep groan from the man above you.

His hand suddenly tightens around your throat, pulling your head towards him, “I asked you a question.”

Giving him a small nod and a meek yeah seemed to have sufficed until he flips you on your stomach and forces your face down the bed.

Your skirt joins the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your panties do too.

“You’re so wet for me, aren’t ya?” Bucky taunts, one thick finger swiping the wetness between your folds. Spreading it around as preparation. A muffled confirmation made him chuckle as he pinches your clit with intention.

Taking his leaking cock out of his boxers, he swipes the bead of precum from his angry-red tip. He takes his sweet, sweet time before even thinking about pushing into your pussy.

Bucky drags the head of his cock up and down your fold, earning a needy moan from you—coating his entire length with your wetness.

After seemingly an eternity on your side, the sheets already imprinted their impression on the side of your cheek. Bucky finally, fucking finally, pushes into you. A short, white-hot burn shoots through your nerves, making you whimper.

His hand stays on the back of your neck, pushing you further down the bed as he moves. Your pussy lips gripping his dick like a vice, “so fucking tight. God.”

Bucky’s chest swelled up with pride as he notices your fingers digging into his sheets, “no one can fuck you this good.”

The bed squeaks with both of your weight shifting as he reaches around you, his fingers working around your bud. The pressure of his upper body makes you gasp with every thrust of his hips.

He continues to work you—his fingers circling tightly on your throbbing clit, his cock nudging the soft, spongy spot in you. Your toes curl with red heat as your orgasm begins to burn up your legs.

“I’m gonna-- ‘m so close,” your pleas fell on deaf ears as Bucky chases his own high. His balls slapping against your skin, his hips stuttering as his cock pulsates inside your velvet walls.

He curses, grabbing your shoulder and flipping you upside, kneeling before you. His hand pumping his dick continuously as it twitches—the veins even more prominent.

“Open your mouth, I’m gonna cum in it.” Bucky orders and you obey. Your fingers finding their way to your abandoned bundle of nerves—your climax threatening to fade away.

Thick ropes of cum shoot over your mouth, painting your lips and chin white as he misses.

“God, fuck, look at your mess.” Bucky sighs, he’s already tucked back into his boxers and handing you a shirt—presumably to clean yourself up.

“You got your ring? Anything else?” The annoyance in his tone is evident. The clock ticks half past midnight.

You dangle your purse in front of him as a gesture, the wind picks up and your shoes are loose on your feet.

“Alright, well, you could wait for your ride here, I guess.” Bucky dropped the act the moment he got his dick in you.

“Yeah, he’s just around the corner. Thanks for the, uh, ring.”

He hums, looking at his phone. His thumbs dancing over the keyboard, “Try not to bother my friends again when you wanna reach me.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or to smack the phone out of his hands, “yeah. Tried calling you but I’m pretty sure you blocked my number.”

A curt laugh echoes out from him, “‘m sorry. Out of habit. You know how it is.”

“Right.” And an awkward beat falls over the both of you.

A black car pulls up by the street and you silently thank the stars. By the time you turn around to at least do the right thing and bid Bucky goodnight, you find yourself facing a closed door.

[deluluass]

misericordia

It's finally here T^T Here's to reaching 100+ followers! Thank you so much everyone!!

Content Warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; somnophilia; description of dead bodies; includes some elements of cosmic horror; dystopian-ish au; biblical references/imagery; angel! Ushijima

To name is a barren tree: fruitless and, ultimately, the workings of this kind.

  The earth will soon be without form, and void; and darkness shall remain the face of the deep. 

  The Spirit of God no longer moves in the face of the waters. 

  Names are for nothing.

  But, for any cause done here, to name is essential. As it was in the beginning, when there was still a beginning (but it has not ended yet, so the beginning shall still stay), to name had been the first task.

  So when asked for a name, the mouth was able to conjure:

  “Ushijima Wakatoshi,” the body said. 

  And as it is the way of the Created, the body became he.

  And as it is the way of the Created, proof was immediately demanded for the name. 

  And as it is the way of the Created, once found on the chest, Ushijima Wakatoshi was then welcomed. 

  You weren’t there when the world ended. 

  In fact, so, too, was your father's father. The sky had cracked open and the oceans had already split up the old lands for as long as anyone could remember. 

  Before the city became a city in truth, the people had just been strangers, seeking shelter after everything fell apart, only to be abandoned by those who’d promised protection.

  That didn't mean, however, that things got better for your lot once someone swept in and established order and peace and stability and whatever it is those at the top had to say to justify them being there. 

  If your father were to be believed, you had been sleeping in your mother’s womb, still a tiny beating heart, when the longest winter happened ("winter"; they still called it that when there had been minute differences between hot and cold).

  Supplies were short; food was scarce; so when you finally clawed your way into a world breathing its last, your mother couldn't help but bleed into the sheets until your cry outlived hers. 

  But your father barely recognized you  during his final days. That’s why when your neighbors call you a liar for saying “I was born on a Spring,” you shrug it off and think you might as well have been born on a Spring. 

  There’s no way of knowing. The story had always changed every time you asked him. 

  Sometimes he blamed you, sometimes he told you it’s not your fault. Nothing you could do about it. Spring it is, then; you told yourself. 

  Spring always looked so... different, in the drawings Granny made, anyway.

  No one here actually knows her age. Granny had always been Granny; as permanent to this place as the walls enclosing the city.

  She rarely left her quarters, that crone, and could barely stand on her own without your help. Worse, she could no longer see. What use is a blind artist, the others would laugh. 

  It’s their loss, you’d retort, mocking her like that. Because then they’d miss the way her gnarled and knobby hands would glide with unwavering purpose if you asked her to, strokes bold and not a space wasted.

  “You never learn,” she croaked once finished, jostling the wrinkled piece of paper to your lap. “Why throw away your rations for this piece of junk?”

  Granny retched, “Incurable fool.”

  At this point, she would grumble about suffering in the old pig’s (her words, not yours) kitchens for nothing, and always, without fail, you’d feel a smile break on your face. It hurt, honestly, but after an entire day of frowning over the dishes you had to wash and the floors that needed scrubbing and all the other orders yelled your way, it was worth it, anyway.

  “I know you’re laughing. My ears still work, mind you.”

  You felt your belly shake as you giggled, brushing the paper with worn fingers, staring open-mouthed at the piece before you.

  “This is amazing, Granny,” you sighed.

  “Idiot,” she repeated. “It’s the same thing as the one before. And the one before that.”

  And for good measure, Granny added, “Idiot. Not like you hadn’t seen that one.”

  When all you’d done was take her hand in yours and place a pack of food along with a thin roll of paper in her feeble grasp, Granny finally asked, “Why do you keep coming back here, girl? Asking for the same thing.”

  There wasn’t any of that surly frown now. 

  And looking at her like that, without the crabbiness that sharpens her features, that oddly makes her look younger and in control of herself, you find that you don’t have an answer this time. Arrested by the realization that her shoulders slumped lower than you’d thought. And that she’s getting thinner. 

  “Why?” you whispered back, feeling traces of charcoal stick to your palm.

  Maybe it’s because there’s no other way that she’d accept food, unless she does something in return. She kicked you out the first time you intended to give her the ration you’d earned.

  (Or maybe it's because you know what they'd do, once they find out she's no longer making trades.)

  Why, indeed. 

  Maybe it’s because you hadn’t really seen things grow before. 

  You might work at the Governor’s place, at the heart of the city and everything else that matters, but grunt workers like you are prohibited to get anywhere near the farm, let alone actually enter it. So, really, there's no other way of seeing what growth looks like.

  Maybe it’s because you can only do that when you witness her in her craft. You really don’t have anything to compare it with, but you’re sure life from soil works the same way. 

  Everything must come from something.  And that something must be quite the artist, if they're anything like Granny. 

  Birthing roots from the ground of what was once a blank piece of paper with a flick of the wrist; growing into large trunks, strong branches, then into an abundance of leaves and blossoms. 

  Trees drawn on both sides of the paper, always with a smattering of grass and flowers in the middle. She said they used to grow here, when she was just a girl. And if you begged hard enough, she’d add a stray butterfly fluttering around the corner. 

  You hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I just love seeing you, Granny,” you grinned.

  “Crock of shit.”

  “Really!” You grabbed your knapsack as you stood from your seat, folding the paper with care. “Hey, Granny, guess what? Don’t give me that face— I’ve already saved just enough and you know what that means?”

  She snorted. 

  “Listen,” you pouted. “I’ll finally be able to get those pigments! I heard they don't cost that much and if I trade next-”

  “Don’t.”

  She tilted her head and faced your way, misty eyes pinning you. "How much does paper cost you?"

  You gulped. 

  Then, with a swiftness that surprised you, she grabbed you by your tattered sleeve and gritted, “I may be the blind one here, but I think I see a lot more clearly than you do. You can sweat and bleed for those pigments, but I will never paint.”

  You felt a sting in your eyes as she continued, “I know what you’re doing. And I’d be the greater fool if I let you work yourself to the bone for some pipe dream."

  "Content yourself with coal, girl. That’s all you’re gonna get from this place. Dirt and rust and smoke. Go sneak into that damned farm. Go steal some of those fuckers’ riches. In fact, while you’re at it,” she laughed dryly. “Steal them all and run away from here. If you really want to live.”

  “Only,” she said, too soft that you had to sit back down to hear her, “Only, stop hoping, my child.”

  Her chest wheezed as she breathed, like air passing through the holes of a rundown machine. 

  You kissed the back of her hand before you left. 

  The wind howled and threatened to topple you as you walked back to your building, hard rain slapping you across the face when you picked up into a run. They didn’t descend in small drops anymore. As you get older, thunderstorms are to be expected once evening falls, lingering for weeks only to suddenly bring about an irritatingly humid day. 

  But tonight, the large cavern above that parts the dark, heavy clouds into opposite streams seem to yawn wider, closing itself lower and lower into the earth that you swore someday it’ll devour the city whole.

  Mud water in your boots, you grabbed onto your soaked coat and climbed the steps of the decaying piece of slab you call home, mindful that you won’t slip and break your skull against the thick beams, twisted metal jutting out of the corners.

  A solitary lamp flickered through the window of the room next to yours. Little Soo-jin must be having nightmares again, you thought with a frown. 

  You were about to knock on their door when the sirens blared, echoing louder across the city than the boom of lightning, followed by a grating squeal that could only be an opening gate. 

  Your knuckle froze over the chipped wood.

  The last time the alarm rang, the people were greeted by the body of a young council member, brought by a small and wounded troop who’d accompanied him outside the city. 

  Soo-jin’s mom peered through the murky window, meeting your eyes after both of you stared into the direction of the gate closest to your zone, as if seeking you for an explanation. You only gave her a shrug.

  “Someone must have died,” you said.

    “No, he’s not dead. That’s why you’re bringing food to his room, aren’t you?”

  You stared at the girl stubbornly shaking her head. 

  “I- I know, but! Didn’t you hear? They said they found him full of bullet holes and I—”

  “Even if you’re serving a rotting corpse, as long as Cook orders it, you follow.”

  It was admirable that she’s refused for this long. If it were you, you’d have been sacked the moment you opened your mouth to say no. You wiped your hand with the towel next to the sink, having finished the work assigned to you, and watched the ongoing bout in the kitchen.

  “Why can’t you just ask the others? Marga’s not doing anything!”

  “Marga,” the older woman hissed, “is with the others. Almost everyone is in the meeting room. So if you don’t take your butt up there, I’m gonna have no other choice but to tell Cook.”

  You winced. This can’t be good.

  You cleared your throat. “I can do it,” you said.

  The tray was shoved to you faster than you can drop your raised hand. You would have found it amusing, considering that you’re sure they couldn’t even recognize you, but the idea of being in the same room with a half-alive man does make you feel uneasy. 

  Not that it’s anything new for you; you nursed your father until the fever took him, after all. You just haven’t lived long enough to get used to it yet. But you steeled yourself and did your job, because it’s not as if you had any choice. 

  You prepared yourself for anything as you entered one of the many guest chambers. Bullet holes, rotting corpse, entrails held together by stitches. 

  And when you announced your presence and gripped the tray tighter so as to not spill the soup on the sprawling carpet, it’s not really surprise that caused you to stumble upon your words when you saw the man sitting on the bed.

  It’s more of an embarrassment, of sorts. 

  You must’ve entered the wrong room, you thought. You immediately checked around  to make sure no one saw you talk and almost grovel to an actual sculpture. 

  Because that’s what he was. 

  The Governor’s estate houses floors and floors of rooms that you hadn't explored yet. But there was one that, if no one would bother to keep track of the workers, you had the habit of sneaking into. 

  Thinking about what it took for this family to have all those sculptures there hurt your head, so you stopped a long time ago. You chose, instead, to just admire the marble wonders in all their beauty, always looking back down at you with majesty and pride. 

  Just as he's doing right now. 

  Chiseled torso wrapped in bandages; sharp jaw that could cut; eyes the color of olives, gazing deep.

  "That is for me."

  You snapped your head down. 

  "Huh- uh, yes? Yes!" 

  His deep voice still rumbled through you. 

  "Yes, I'm sorry," you muttered, heat rushing to your face as you placed the tray on the table next to him, inflaming when you realized he didn't mean it as a question.

  That is for me. 

  Not a question. A question means you can answer. His words brooked no other response but obedience, reminding you of your place.

  Much like those sculptures, every time  you'd spent too much time inside the room and you'd get the feeling that you're not supposed to be there, too filthy to be anywhere near what you think is the closest thing to perfection. 

  And the truth would settle on you like a heavy weight: that no amount of beauty can ever breathe warmth if it cannot live and grow. 

  The same way that despite the sunshine filtering through the floor to ceiling windows, surrounding him in blinding light as he sat on the bed, you can't shake the impression that this is the coldest this room has ever been, with him here. 

  So you anticipated his orders; a single word or maybe a glance that would tell you he wants you gone. Just either one of those and you'd run out of this room in a heartbeat. 

  But neither came. The man (you still didn't know his name) remained silent, staring at the food like they've insulted him specifically, and now he's questioning the collective audacity of the soup, bread, and bowl of fruits laid before him. 

  Maybe they don't serve those where he came from. He's from the North, after all, made evident by the small eagle etched on his chest, just above a pectoral. The last visiting Northerner you served who also bore that mark threw a rag at you (she missed) for "mixing the bathing oils incorrectly."

  You stayed in your position and asked, "Is the food not to your liking?"

  He didn't say anything, but he did shift his attention to you.

  And what a mistake that was. How does this man go about life with such a severe presence?

  "Er..is something..wrong?" you sweated, suddenly fascinated by the vases behind him. 

  Glaring back at the food, he answered with a deep "no" and breathed out. His large arms rose and fell along with it, straining the bandages around the muscles.

  Oh, right. Right.

  You perked up. "Do you need help?"

  Stepping closer to the table, you gave him a tightlipped smile and a sheepish "excuse me" before taking the spoon in your hand. 

  You scooped a thick serving of soup, your palm hanging under it, and waited.

  And waited. 

  The man looked at you the same way he looked at the bowl of fruits earlier.

  "What are you doing?" he said,  gravel-voiced. 

  You're gonna lose this job.

  Why did you think you could feed him like he's an ailing, decrepit old man? Or a literal child? He's built like he commands an army (and he probably does).

  You are definitely gonna lose this job.

  "I- I'm sorry!" 

  You jerked away, your hip hitting the table, the impact shaking it and causing the plates and silverware to clatter against each other.

  "O-oh no, I'm-" The spoon in your hand fell as you attempted to set things properly, soup spilling to the carpet along with the utensils.

  You're gonna lose this job and you're gonna starve to death.

  "I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!" 

  Dropping to your knee like your life depended on it, you picked up the myriad of similar looking spoons and forks and placed them back on the tray. 

  You kept your head downwards, bowing as you'd been repeatedly taught, and shut your eyes tightly. 

  "I thought that you hadn't healed yet and needed help and- and-" you huffed.

  "And I thought that I should feed you but- no-no!" You looked at him and flailed your hands in front of you. "No! I didn't mean feed- I meant- I meant no disrespect please forgive me!"

  Not a word was spoken in that second that spanned an entire year. But just as you'd accepted that the worst has come, he said:

  "Then, feed me."

  Wait.

  Wait, what?

  "I don't.. understand..?"

  "Then, feed me," was what he told you. And so matter-of-factly, at that. 

  So you did, desperate to keep the only thing keeping you alive. 

  Though your hand trembled and you wished to be anywhere but here— even the wasteland waiting outside the gates, with all its unimaginable threats, seemed like paradise —you took a loaf of bread from the basket and brought it closer to his mouth.

  Lines marred his forehead as he chewed. You were about to ask, self-destructive that you are, whether you should get the sweetened roll instead, thinking he found the one in your hand too bland. But you don't have the luxury to risk digging your grave any deeper. 

  You kept quiet and pointedly removed him from your line of sight, choosing to count the tassels hanging off the canopy instead.

  Once he's eaten all that's left of the pastries, you dipped your hand into the bowl of fruits and took a grape in-between your fingers and, as much as you can, you steadied your hand to avoid touching his lips.

  It didn't work. 

  You shuddered at the contact, curling your toes in your boots to avoid squirming. 

  This has got to be the weirdest day of your entire life.

  Not a hint of unease was shown. He continued to close his plump lips around the tip of your fingers and crushed the fruits with pointed canines, making the hair on your body stand on end. What if he bites you? Would you bleed?

  The man seemed to like them more than bread. A sense of urgency rose within you as he went through the berries and sliced mangoes like this is the first time he's had them.

  Can't say you blame him. The last time you ate something that resembled a fruit, a real fruit, was when Granny persuaded (coerced) a young boy in her complex to steal one from his employer. That boy has a child of his own now. 

  You felt your mouth water, your stomach growl and command that you take the bowl from him and shovel its contents to your mouth, as you watched him devour the sweet and tangy meat, the smell of it sickening as it is strangely compelling.

  He raised his head and met your eyes.

  Shit. 

  The apples, you thought as you looked back down to the tray. They're the only ones left soaking in the bowl, those apples. After this you'd be out of this stuffy room and you'd laugh about this later with Soo-jin and her mom and Granny too if she's not cranky.

  You could still feel him staring at you as you fed him a slice, the apple crisp when he took a bite. 

  Juice trickled down your hand, the sticky extract tickling your arm as it slid to the crook of your elbow, and you were about to wipe it with your other hand, when you felt a wet tongue probe the gap between your fingers.

  You gasped. "Sir..!" 

  You stepped away. Tried to, anyway, but with a firm hand, a hand that's not injured, after all, he gripped your wrist and continued to suck a digit. 

  "This is- sir!" struggling out of his hold, you pleaded with him to let go, please sir let me go, even as he only looked at you, his eyes dimming when he grabbed your waist to bring you closer. 

  He licked your hand, lapping at the trail the juice left behind, and when you thought he would release you, he took your hand to pluck another slice from the bowl. 

  Your legs gave up beneath you, forcing you to sit on his stretched lap, his hard body scorching you through the sheets, as he ate the apple from your palm, slurping the leftovers dripping from it. 

  "Don't cry," Granny told you once.

  "Especially when you feel like crying," she said. "Don't cry."

  You'd never really been good at listening, but now, you decided to suck in your breath and keep those tears at bay. You can cry and laugh about all this later.

  Because you might be jobless after this, but you will certainly have a damn good story to tell over the fire once you finished kneeing him in the nuts.

  So: one.

  Breathe.

  His teeth scraped your soaked hand.

  Two.

  You rested your hand on his shoulder.

  Three.

  You braced your leg, moving it between his thick thighs, and then, as you clutched his bandages, you—

  "Ushijima-sama."

  The door swung open.

  "Pardon the intrusion, but the Council members requested-”

  It was Secretary Hara.

  “Oh."

  Secretary Hara: a lanky, dark haired man with glasses who's always at the Governor's beck and call. He was here, carrying a small stack of papers, and gaping at the scene before him.

  You and the esteemed guest. Who's still suckling at your skin. On the bed. 

  He grinned, full of humor and disgusting. “Well,” he said. 

  At least you weren't crying.

  A question, shared only by the Heavens, began when the Lord fashioned the flesh out of the dust of the ground and said,"You are made in My image and likeness."

  It was not their way, before that: to question. (One of them did, once, but that is a different story). 

  They have no need for questions.

  They hold the highest seat, below only to the Creator, unencumbered by the trappings of the earth.

  They have no need for questions.

  So it remained unasked, lingering in fragments in the House of the Lord.

  The question comes to him now.

  For the flesh is a cage. It is ephemeral and prone to decay.

  It is fitting for this kind to have it, with all their qualities bound to the material world.

  You are the very epitome of these.

  Graceless. Stumbling like a newborn foal. Too many apologies. Too many questions.

  God is not here, he thinks as you insist on asking what does not matter.

  “Is the food not to your liking?” and “Is something wrong?” and “Do you need help?”

  Indecisive, too. Reneging on your promises. You said you’d feed him and then you said you wouldn’t.

  Ushijima Wakatoshi is a mere flesh, locking inside divinity your kind would never understand. Yet he felt its tedious demands gnaw at him when he saw you. Something so impermanent should have no right for constant sustenance. 

  But he knows, just for this time, that he needs it. That’s why he tells you to feed him, as you said you would. After all, it is your way to serve. And, for all your many inadequacies, God has granted you bread and water and fruit to sate your appetites. 

  Thus, for as long as he is flesh, he will do as it tells him to. 

  When it urged for the taste of fruit, for the cloying sweetness of its juice, it is only right that he heeded its call and had his fill. 

  How dare you object. His light is brighter than yours; God has granted it so (and yet you were given the will that they never had). And even in flesh you are beneath him. You are easily held and defeated.

  The ache in his belly did not cease, each gulp he took heightening his senses, shouting for more, more, more as he took you with his tongue. And he realizes that this is what the first of your kind may have felt like when they disobeyed. The first act of betrayal.

  (For what is the wrath of God to the cries of the flesh?)

  And with that, Ushijima Wakatoshi finds, since donning this useless flesh, that it is not at all easy to gratify. 

  Not in the least.

    There are so many rules in this mansion that even Cook’s effort to batter them on your head could sometimes be futile, given that their number is just as big as this place. But, there is one, among all the convoluted and at times nonsensical decrees, that you are not allowed to forget: 

  Unless you’re among the core staff, you can never enter the East Wing. 

  The East Wing is where all the important things happen, see. It goes without saying that someone as lowly as you cannot pollute that hallowed ground.

  Today seems to be an exception.

  When Cook barked that Secretary Hara wanted you in the East Wing first thing in the morning, you had a feeling that you just might not live to see the next day.

  You didn't speak unless spoken to. You didn't look unless told to. The things you should've done much earlier.

  "How are you liking the work here so far?" 

  Secretary Hara pushed the pen to the side and leaned back against the leather swivel chair. 

  "It's a job," you mumbled, to which he only replied with a breathless chuckle. You didn't see the point in bootlicking any further. Besides, Granny hated that the most; so you avoided doing it as much as you can.

  There's only one conclusion for you here, anyway. No matter how severe the punishment. And it's back in your room, with a uniform that needs sewing for a job that you no longer have.

  He tapped his fingers against the lacquered table. "You're right," he said. "Work is work. Despite your place in this society."

  You wanted to roll your eyes. Secretary Hara has never been any of the workers' favorites (not that any of you had your "favorites," but if you could, you avoided this guy). He had this astonishing effect, too, in which he can actually bring people together. All because everyone hated him.

  He's a slimeball, is what he is. If one needed lessons in kissing ass, he was your man. 

  "Do you know why you're here?"

  You're getting fired. End of story. Now can I please just go? is what you want to say. But losing your job doesn't usually take this much time and attention. Normally, it was Cook who'd grunt "You're out" and that was it.

  So you shake your head.

  "I'm promoting you," he said. "Congratulations."

  Somewhere, beneath that condescending smile of his, is a punchline that you're sure he's deliberately keeping from you. Just so he can be the only one who gets to laugh.

  "I-" You balled your hand to a fist. "Why?"

  He scoffed. "What are they teaching you in that rathole? Honestly."

  They taught me not to be rude to people I don't know, you little bitch.

  "Drop the coy act, it's okay," he sneered. "It's cheap and it won't work on me."

  Oh, now you really want to get fired. If only to kick his teeth in. "That man," Secretary Hara continued. "Ushijima Wakatoshi. You were all over him and you seriously don't know who he is?"

  You gritted. "Secretary Hara, what happened- it wasn't- I didn't want it."

  But he only gave you that look. As if to say, "Sure. Let's go with that." When it'd pass and the need to pummel him became stronger, he stood up and stepped towards the tapestry draped against the wall.

  It was a map, the city a pinprick on the corner. Secretary Hara faced it, dusting the spotless surface, his back to you.

  "Ever wonder what keeps us here?" he started, hand still on the map. "This city of ours?"

  "The," you licked your lips. Where was he going with this? "The river..?"

  Secretary Hara clapped his hands, his voice lilting like he's talking to a toddler as he said, "That's right. That's good. Excellent."

  "So you do know some things, after all." His fingers crawled towards the long line of blue stitched beside the city. "And do you wonder what would happen if, say, that river begins to dry?"

  You felt your eyes widen. You covered your mouth with a palm. 

  You're not supposed to know this. Why is he telling you this?

  He scratched the thick clump of blue thread and continued, "These great cities. They have their energy; their military." 

  Your eyes followed his hand, moving farther and farther away from the pallid brown surrounding your city, towards the bright yellow West, stopping at the bright green East. "Some of them are blessed enough to not be surrounded by a literal desert."

  Then, with a careful hand, he moved to the very top and said, "And the North…the North has it all."

  The North was a sprawling, intricate web of threads, eating away the entire tapestry. 

  "The Ushijima clan rules the North. Much longer than this city has existed. And they’re so engrossed in their wars that they’d never glance our way if we don't give them at least half of what we make,” he spat. “These great people haven’t had contact with us in years."

  Secretary Hara finally turned around, grin still in place. "But now one of them owes his life to us." He walked back to his desk, sitting on its edge. "Perhaps the heavens sent him here."

  When you remained silent and looked at him with eyes that you wished had the ability to kill, because you know now what they wanted from you, Secretary Hara only shrugged.

  "He asked for your name, actually," he said, tilting his head. "Lucky you. He didn't bother to learn ours."

  You stood your ground. "No, sir," you said. "I won't."

  He pulled a thin piece of paper from a pile sitting next to him. "You're not gonna do much," he said as he began to read. "Just show him around the city. Be his friend."

  Friend. 

  "But I- No. I can't." You stepped forward. "Please." 

  He looked away from the paper. "Zone 42. Room 0312."

  "What.."

  "Granny," he said. "That's what you call her, isn't it?"

  No.

  "They say that for a blind old lady she's still somehow miraculously trading to keep a roof over her head."

  Phantom touches crept to your arm, slick and nauseating like cold sweat.

  "You must take it from her. Though you're not related," he said.  "Apparently, you're so hardworking, you even work the night shift. When you don't have to."

  You released a shaky breath. "I'll..I'll start," you croaked. "I'll start right away, sir." 

  Secretary Hara folded his arms, victory plastered all over his gaunt face.

  "Thank you," he chimed. "I'm glad you understand. It's for your own good too, y'know." 

  The uniform they gave you chafed against your skin. Tugging at the sleeves did not help, the pristine fabric too coarse and stiff to budge. Your only comfort was the folded paper hidden in your pocket, fading at the edges every time you touched it.

  You have to admit, however, that you did look...well, you did look clean. Not as much as him, though. And not just in the sense that he's out of the bandages now. Last you checked, and that had been a few minutes ago, he was still sporting a couple of scars on his forehead.

  Despite that, you don't have to look behind you to know what's captured the people's attention as you strolled the capital. Or, who, to be exact.

  Some were outright ogling; some happened to glance once and then immediately looked away with a blush; some made the laudable effort to not look. 

  A mirror of what you're doing right now. 

  They gilded him with gold, which is a redundancy if you ever see one. He was wearing the most expensive pigment, something that only the Governor's family could own: a deep violet tunic emblazoned with golden vines, swirling from the middle to the collar; paired with dress pants that you could probably trade for a whole month's worth of food. 

  You kept your distance as you walked in front of him. "Just show him around the city," was what Secretary Hara told you. That didn't mean you had to talk.

  And it's not as if he had any complaints, either. He followed you through the rows of glass houses that adorned Governor's lane, not a word spoken about the sights. 

  Even when you'd attempted to speed through the dizzying streets, he kept his pace, long legs allowing him to stride close to you. By time you'd reached the plaza, you were already out of breath and in need of rest. 

  But you didn’t. 

  You remained standing a few feet away from him, the paper in your hand opened to reveal those great trees and thriving field, as he sat under the gazebo overlooking the square; a place reserved only for council members. 

  The smell of the sweetmeats and oranges in front of him reached your nose (Secretary Hara has a cruel sense of humor, you belatedly realized, when you were handed a bag of food that had a note saying “treat him well”). You fought the itch to cast out what little you’ve had for breakfast.

  Children were playing around the sandbox, the staff of whatever family they belonged to guarding them. In a way, their job wasn’t that different from what you have now. 

  Except, it’s not a child you were threatened to accompany. With the feeling of his gaze burning your nape, it seems like you’re not the one doing the guarding as well. 

  And you didn’t feel every bit like the adult you are when he called your name.

  You felt frighteningly small, as you yielded with a pathetic, “Ushijima-sama.”

  He only looked at you. Those green eyes telling you exactly what he wanted. 

  People are watching. You can’t mess this up.

  “Sir,” you said, hand still in your pocket, that frayed paper your anchor. “It is improper.”

  Irritation swept through him, his sharp features harsher when dissatisfied. But you can’t give up, even though it’s sending a chill down your spine and he seems like he’s about to throttle in broad daylight. (And he doesn’t have to do much, you know. He can crush you with one hand.)

  “Why- why are you here?” you hissed. “R-really?”

  You don’t shut your trap when you have to, girl. That’s your problem.

  “Because- because I’m not gonna be your..thing.” The paper was dampening in your grip. “While you do whatever it is you do, Ushijima,” you huffed. “...sama”

  Ushijima did not blink, his stare unwavering as he turned towards the small crowd strolling below. There’s a part of you that wishes to put yourself in his place, like a king on his throne. What does the view look like from up there? Are the people beneath just multicolored ants moving from afar? 

  “A few of my kind have suddenly sided with yours,” he said. Then, briefly returning his gaze to you, “I had to see what draws them here.” 

  He linked his fingers together. “Before I do what must be done.”

  You stifled a chortle. “Do what must be done” your ass. Does that include harassing people, too? “God only knows,” you whispered.

  “You believe in God.”

  You were the subject of his relentless attention again. You groaned, averting your eyes to a small girl, probably around Soo-jin’s age, who plopped down to create a heap of sand, much to the consternation of her nanny. 

  “No,” you replied in a thin voice. 

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” Where is this question coming from? “Always seemed like a lot of work,” you said. 

  The little girl was making a castle. It’s apparent to you now that she has little pail by her side, shovel in her grubby hand. The frill of her dress caught most of the sand as she stacked them atop each other.

  “And I’m pretty sure God has more fun things to do than worry about me,” you added, just because.

  The castle reached her knees when the girl stood up. 

  "God has left," Ushijima said. "A long time ago."

  And then she kicked it. The thing crumbled to a mound, the breeze scattering it back to the sand. 

  You did chuckle this time. The Northerners sure are strange. "Really? Where’d God go?" you hummed, looking up to the sky.

  The sun was blanketed by waves of clouds, as usual. "Somewhere nicer, I hope," you sighed. 

  You closed your eyes and thought of that nicer place. It would have to be far, far away from here. Maybe it would even have those trees that Granny loved.

  "Cherry trees."

  You opened your eyes and gawked at him. 

  He was still gazing at you. 

  "You are attached to it," he told you, like it's nothing; like your heart's not wreaking havoc against your ribs with each word he utters. "On that paper."

  Pulling it out of your pocket, you stumbled to him and unfolded it for him to see. "You-  you know what this is? A 'cherry tree.' That’s what you call it?"

  "Yes." Ushijima's eyes did not leave yours. "That is the name you people have bestowed upon them."

  "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

  You didn't let him answer that because, just like the fool that Granny accused you to be, you took his hand in your trembling one and laughed, somehow managing to drag him out of the gazebo.

  It took a while before you finally let go.

  Much has changed along the way, he felt this as the air grew hotter; the sound of bustling people louder and less constrained with inutile mortal etiquette. You seemed less wary of him here. 

  The hand that held his tightly was still brushing against him, as you talked incessantly about the pieces of paper plastered across the wall. They all looked the same, yellowed and infested with mold at the edges, but you insisted otherwise.

  “See here?” You pointed to the one on the bottom. “Granny drew the leaves differently. They look like flowers don’t they? They are, aren’t they? I knew it! So they are flowers.” 

  There was a cot in the corner of the room. He sees you there in slumber, surrounded by rocks and scraps of metal and bits of gemstones held together by strings, each strand hanging on the crevices of the roof, gleaming every time they move. 

  You tapped his arm repeatedly. “Oh, oh. I put these two beside each other. Notice that the shades are different? This one is lighter while this one has more shadows to it.”

  "Do you get it now?" you asked him, expectant. 

  Humans are baffling creatures, Wakatoshi thought. Because when he said nothing, you only laughed (you seem to like doing that) and told him to “follow me; hurry.” You didn’t hold his hand this time (you should’ve, he preferred it when you did).

  “My bad. I hadn’t shown you yet,” you huffed as you grabbed a rag and set aside buckets of rainwater that obstructed his path. 

  Behind a curtain of sackcloth and ashes, draped at the furthest side of the wall, was a crack big enough to let a person through, corroding steel bars protruding along the broken concrete. 

  Wakatoshi ducked to enter the room next to yours. It was hollow, save for bits of gravel and a window obscured by dust. You paced to it then wiped the thick glass with the rag you brought with you.

  “That hill is always there in Granny’s drawings,” you said, taking the paper in your pocket and setting it parallel to the scene revealed by the window. 

  Your smile was wide, as if you were admiring a land lush with vegetation, or wildflowers at least. When it was far from that. It was a vast desolation, beyond the gates and the brown earth fractured. But, just as you said, there is a solitary hill sitting along the horizon.

  “Those trees- cherry trees,” you started, face radiating with mirth. “It’s the same but.. different each time.” Your breathless laugh makes him feel just as winded. “How is that even possible?”

  “I know they can’t be just...green.” A finger traced the outline of the leaves. “Because these are real and they actually grow and- and they change.” And, as if it’s a secret, “Unlike the ones at the capital.”.

  “If only Granny would paint them for me,” you whispered, the smile on those lips waning. 

  Wakatoshi couldn’t stand it. So, he grunted, “You are wrong. This one is green.”

  He took the paper from your hand. “They only change colors once they bloom. White, first. Then, pink.” 

  This knowledge is trivial; if it can be considered knowledge at all. It is a speck in the infinite matters that simply exist— have existed, in this world. Yet such a thing has put that look in your eyes. 

  Perhaps it is not inconsequential at all.

  “Pink?” you breathed, grinning incredulously at him. 

  You turned away and closed your eyes, your voice cracking as you murmured, “I see.”

  There's a blood pumping organ within his chest. A vital piece that keeps you humans alive. It beats constantly, never ceasing. If it does then it means you are dead. He is flesh, for now; it follows that if it halts, then he is fodder for the earth.

  How is it, then, that he is still here? He’s sure he felt it stop, the air knocked out of his lungs, as you looked back at him, eyes welling with tears when you said, “Thank you.”

  Thank you, you told him, smiling.

  Ah. 

  Wakatoshi gets it now.

  This is what God must have seen, when your kind looked up and sang, “I love you, my God; I love you; I love you.” And when you knelt and dared to turn those eyes for others that are not God, he suddenly understands why they were ordered to rain fire and brimstone upon your great kingdoms. 

  Because he, too, would smite anything, burn it to the ground and salt what is left, if it would so much as receive a whit of your sweet, soft words. 

  “They used to grow here,” you sniveled. “Granny said so.”

  “And I thought, maybe if Granny added a bit more color- maybe they'd feel more…I don't know..real..?” Laughter rings in his ears once again, pealing like bells. “Yeah..They'd feel more real...Though, she did get mad at me,” you winced.

  “I just thought,” you sighed, your shoulders touching him. “Wouldn't it be nice if I can wake up one day and find them growing again? Right here.”

  God created a garden for your kind once. It is gone now, but Wakatoshi wonders what you’d say, how you’d look at him, if he shows it to you. Your head against the grass, fingers laced with the lilies of the field, the taste of fruit on your lips, your thighs dripping with honey and dew—

  Wakatoshi felt his loins stir, but he didn't say anything, except, “The soil here is poisoned.”

  You snapped towards him, brows drawn together. “I know,” you said.

  “A sapling cannot grow on this wasteland.” 

  “Yes, I’m not stupid.”

  “That could have been any hill.”

  “I know.”

  His throat is parched; his hands a pair of useless things. He can hold galaxies in them, sink ships and level seas by the order of God had this body not trapped him. (He can free himself, but then you’d die). Now he doesn’t even know what to do with them as he rushes out a hoarse, “I have upset you.”

  He refused to let you take the paper from him. You didn’t seem to mind.

  “No,” you sighed. “No, of course not. Forgive me, Ushijima-sama.”

  You bowed again. An act of servitude.

  “Please, let me escort you back to the capital.”

  He does not understand. He only told you the truth. 

  But you turned your back to him and the light in your eyes has gone and he wants to chase it back the same way he wanted to run after God when the parting happened, leaving the Heavens mourning until their wails split the firmament open. 

  Wakatoshi yearns to have you closer. He yearns for that smile and laughter back on your face. 

  Wakatoshi yearns. 

  But, that cannot be. 

  After all, that is just much too human, is it not?

    The rain drenched Wakatoshi to the bone, droplets falling from his lashes to his cheeks, when he walked through the nighttime storm.

  He didn't bother to dry himself. 

  After he'd reached your room and shoved the door open, the clap of thunder covering the noise, Wakatoshi decided to undress himself, shedding all articles of clothing until he was naked as the day God created your kind.

  Wakatoshi felt the chill bite his skin. But that had nothing on the way you easily dismissed him earlier, by the time you'd reached the abode of this city's leader. 

  You left him and he could no longer see your face and yet that fierce longing in his chest stayed, creeping to every part of him, making a home in his belly.

  Until he recognized the feeling for what it was.

  Hunger. 

  Hunger, he could fathom. And when one feels it gnaw at one's flesh, what does one do, but eat?

  You were sleeping on the cot, just as he'd imagined you to be. It's enough to keep him warm: the sight of you, at peace under the glimmer of the trinkets dancing above as a lamp burned lowly. 

  The mattress sank under his weight when he sat next to you. His much larger hand took yours, locking your fingers together to rest his cheek against it, bringing it beneath his nose, and feeling his heart race as he breathed in your scent. 

  He remembers the first time he did this so vividly. You tasted like apples and sin; and though there's none of that now, his mouth still waters as he savors your skin, his tongue traveling to your arm, just as he did then, leaving bites along the way.

  You barely stirred when he lifted your shirt to reveal your tits, the sheen of sweat along the valley forcing a growl out of him.

  Do you feel it, too? When you drag him further down to earth, debasing him and bringing him so low that now he is nothing but a hungry flesh and a mouth made of obscenities. 

  "Fuck," he grunts, as he took his cock, heavy and hard to touch, and rubbed the head with his fingers.

  Perhaps he is lower than human now. Perhaps it does not matter. What is God to this hunger, anyway?

  (This hunger is bigger than God.)

  The cot was pitifully small as he straddled over your chest, breathing still shallow, and spat on his hand before wrapping it around the thick shaft. The tip of his cock touched your nipple as he fondled with the other one, thumb and forefinger pinching and pulling until you let out a tiny mewl.

  Hearing it had him falling to his knees. 

  Wakatoshi moved off the cot to kneel on the floor, the better to suckle on your tits, to lick and nibble on the skin below it, on your stomach, until he's seeing red and ripping your loose pants down to your thighs.

  He pumped his cock harder as he caressed the folds of your cunt. You groaned, arching your back and offering yourself to his mouth, when he started to lap on your clit, sticky liquid coating the swollen bud as he swirled his tongue to  spread the juices dripping from your hole.

  Your entire body was singing for him, even when all you'd managed were squirms and muted whimpers. He felt your skin twitch beneath his lips, as he cupped his balls and drove his hand faster around his throbbing cock, gripping his fist tighter.  

  Oh, he sees you on that garden, clinging onto him as he drives himself into you, pounding your cunt as you beg please, just as you did before, please, please, fuck me harder I am yours I am all yours.

  But, for now, he settles himself with the violent shudders of your body, flooding his mouth with cream, as he releases his seed on his palm. 

  Wakatoshi rubbed it against your leaking cunt, quivering still in his hand. 

  There is something that must be finished, first, before he takes you, in truth. He cannot have you conscious (for now.)

  He covered you back in your clothes, after. Then, Wakatoshi lingered on your face.

  "Fearfully and wonderfully made," he whispered, a mere guttural sound amidst the rain pouring outside. 

  Here lies salvation, he thought, as his fingers brushed your closed eyes. 

  And here, Wakatoshi thought as he brought his lips down to kiss you, here lies damnation. 

  He wiped his blood on the doorposts and lintel before he left.

    You woke up to silence.

  Your nether regions ached and, really, the temptation to not go to work today was insanely strong. But the sun was already bleeding through the window and there's a heavy feeling on your chest.

  And like wearing a shirt on backwards, you immediately knew that something was not right. 

  The sound of the door slamming open echoed through the building as you ran outside. 

  There was nothing. 

  Not the sound of people going about their day nor of children risking the wrath of their mothers with their games. The only thing you could hear was the buzzing noise of a fly circling around your ear.

  You didn't bother knocking on your neighbor's room, rushing inside to shout for Soo-jin and her mom, stopping only when you found them sitting around a small table.

  They didn't turn around to greet you.

  "There you are," you panted, putting your hands on your knees. "I'm so sorry for barging in like this."

  Even little Soo-jin, who never failed to jump into your arms given the opportunity, kept her back to you.  

  You stepped towards her. "Soo-jin," you whispered, placing a hand on her thin shoulder. 

  "Soo-jin, hey," you chuckled, your trembling fingers shaking her bit. "H-hey, what's wrong?"

  Her head nodded down, like a doll grabbed all too suddenly, then it lolled to the side, rolling until she bared her neck, until you saw her face.

  Her mouth hung open. 

  Inside the cavern were tiny black lumps that took you a second to realize were flies feasting on her molars. And when you lurched and sank to the floor, it was only then that you saw her staring back at you.

  Bleached eyes, wide and whitened to the core and pupils like spoiled milk. 

  "N-no." Your vision was cloudy, freezing dread settling at the pit of your stomach when you saw that the same happened to her mother. "Who- who did this?"

  Your voice strained out as you stood, mind moving faster than your legs.

  Granny. Go to Granny. 

  Though you already know, don't you? You don't have to see her to know her fate. Because as you sprinted out of the room, leaping down across the steps, out of the building and into sand and concrete, the smell of sulfur followed you, choking you along with the sight of bodies sprawled on the ground.

  Insects creeping out of nostrils and every other orifice, faces that you'll never have the chance of knowing and faces that you'd grown up with, hands reaching to the heaven as if at prayer.

  You are alone. You are alone in a city filled with rotting corpses. 

  There was an uncontrolled animal inside your body, fighting out of its cage in a fit of rage as you craned to look up, further up.

  The sky was on fire, the fissure in the middle gaping wider and wider and sucking in a mass of swirling clouds dipped with blood and orange.

  And there. There, look. Standing atop the towering walls.

  Beyond the heat wave was a figure, burning bright that you had to squint and you wanted to look away, you had to look away, but you can't go out like this, not without a scream and a curse at your lips.

  What did you do, you were shouting, Who are you, you were screeching, feeling the veins in your neck stretch and pop as you walked closer and closer. 

  Wings as far as the eye could see stood atop the fallen city.

  Spread out to span the horizon and folded at the middle to conceal whatever it is pointing a flaming sword towards the sun. 

  You tasted iron at the back of your mouth, but you did not stop. The earth beneath you swallowed your feet as it turned to mud with each step you took.

  And with the flap of its wings, the sound of metal banging against each other reverberated louder.

  There were children howling in pain, somewhere, behind you, in front of you, beside you. You staggered forward and for the life of you, you do not understand why you keep trying, because the ground below wasn't even soil anymore.

  It took another step before you fell.

  And it was like one of those dreams. 

  But this time you don't wake up. 

  You bawled out and thrashed your legs as water rose above you, slamming against your chest and filling up your mouth and burning your nose until it's all you could see, until you're floating in darkness and water is rushing to your lungs and you were flailing upwards, catching that spot of sunlight, but the more you kicked your feet and swung your arms, the more it tugged at your heavy legs and the less you could breathe and the further it got—  

You were sinking, the clanging of a giant bell everywhere still, as the water pulled you down, and in the deep, below the nothingness, was a massive cleft illuminated by the barest of light, slowly opening to reveal an eye, and no sound came out though you know, though you felt your throat release a shriek, horrifyingly small, so, so small compared to that glass green pupil that illuminated the darkness, rapidly contracting and dilating and then blinking as  salt and fire streamed deep in your skin, but they were looking at you from all sides, a thousand eyes flanking you and judging the weight of your soul with their unforgiving gaze as you tossed and turned in the waters. 

  I am going to die here, you thought. I will die here, you cried.

  But something was pulling at your waist and despite clawing and jabbing at it, desperate to keep it away from you as you wailed get off me get off me, it gripped you tight, hauling you upwards until you were gulping and breathing in cold air.

Through tears and the piercing cry that ripped out your throat, you felt strong, warm arms cradle you close.

  Along with a deep voice, familiar and conjuring a long lost memory. 

It lulled you into hiccups and dry sobs, gentle as it whispered. 

“Do not be afraid,” he said. “Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid.”

[writethelifeyouwant]

Femme Fatale - Ch 2 / 2

Pairing: Alex x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: Sub!Alex, Domme!Reader, pegging, blow job on a dildo, praise kink, bondage, cock bondage, spreader bar, dirty talk about exhibitionism, degradation Word Count: 3.2k Created for: @spnkinkbingo - Praise Kink | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Blindfolds

A/N: Thank you so much for being my first ever commission Sin! I've had a lot of fun tackling this challenge because I've never written a Domme!reader before but I really appreciate you trusting me with your idea, and I hope I do it justice ❤️

Series Masterlist

Alex has been waiting so patiently. Since he and Y/N had gone to Femme Fatale a few weeks ago, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about everything he saw there. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what he saw Jared doing – or more accurately, what he saw being done to Jared.

Seeing Jared submit so publicly to all those people had been mesmerising; Jensen watching on proudly from the sidelines, offering Jared encouragement and praise when Jared finally couldn’t take it any longer and asked permission to cum. Jared had spurted into Jensen’s hand, held just below him while some tiny thing continued to pound into him from behind, her own domme egging her on the whole time, and then Jared had dutifully licked Jensen’s hand clean for him when he was finished. Alex had thought he was going to cream his shorts just from watching but he’d managed to restrain himself until they got home and Y/N had ridden him until they were both shuddering and sated.

He’s been dreaming about it, waking up hard every morning since that night. And not just semi-chubbed up – achingly, maddeningly, rock-solid and leaking. It’s gotten him into trouble, because he hasn’t been able to resist touching himself when he’s that hard up, and he’s not allowed to do that. Y/N had actually brought home a cock cage the night before for him to sleep in, so he didn’t wind up breaking his rules and ruining her plans for him. She can’t very well give him what he’s been dreaming about for weeks if he’s misbehaving.

Y/N had brought home a few other things last night along with the cock cage – she’d clearly enjoyed her shopping trip a little too much. The object of his fantasies is now sitting in front of him in the centre of their bed, black and threatening against the crisp, pale linens of the rest of the bedroom. The strap-on was a good size. Alex had been nervous that Y/N would be too cautious, too gentle with him, and get something shamefully small, but she hadn’t. Caution has never been her style anyways. He’s already getting ahead of himself imagining what it will be like to take something even bigger.

Alex is wearing the other new addition to their collection, a silicone plug that has been holding him open for the past hour or so while he kneels, waiting, at the foot of the bed. He had settled easily into the familiar position, his ankles and knees spread wide and in line while he sat back lightly on the spreader bar holding his legs apart. Being held open like this, he has to concentrate on staying tight so the plug doesn’t slip out. He knows if it does, he’ll be punished.

Y/N is in the shower, part of her ritual when they plan longer play sessions like this. She leaves Alex to sit and settle into his headspace while she uses the steam and the quiet to find her own. At the sound of the hairdryer, Alex feels his cock try to harden inside its restraint. That sound means Y/N is almost ready for him, and it’s a conditioned response by now, the excited heat he feels creeping under his skin. The sound of the door opening and closing comes a moment later, and Alex’s cock gives another smothered leap. She’s in the room with him now.

The scrape of blunt nails across the short hairs at the nape of his neck makes Alex shake, and the cuffs on his wrists and ankles rattle. He tries to crane his head back to see her but she pulls away, and he knows that means he’s not supposed to look yet.

“Have you been good for me, baby boy?” Y/N’s voice rings sweetly above him, sinking into his veins like a shot of something cool and calm. She’s using Jensen’s nickname for Jared again, the name he’s come to associate with this act. With dildos and harnesses and boys on their knees showing off how good they can be when they’re told what to do – when they’re owned like he and Jared are.

“Yes, Mistress,” Alex answers steadfastly. He has been good, he knows he has. He has been perfect for her.

“Yes, I can see you have been,” and he can hear the smile in Y/N’s voice, even though she still won’t move to where he can see her. He gasps suddenly but manages to choke it off before he gets too loud. Y/N had bent down to tap against his plug, nudging it maddeningly close to his prostate. “Good boy,” Y/N drops a small kiss to his shoulder in recognition of his efforts to keep quiet.

Alex savours the compliment, smiling proudly until a wisp of black trails up his back and over his eyes – his blindfold. He instantly deflates as Y/N secures the tie at the back of his head. He wants to see her. Well really, he wants to see her with a cock jutting out from her hips. He desperately hopes this doesn’t mean he won’t get to do that. A sharp tug on his cock sends Alex’s back rigid again as he tries to hold in the cry of shock at the sudden pain, however short lived.

“If you’re going to mope, we can stop right now,” Y/N speaks gently against his ear. She’s not mean about it, not cruel or teasing, she’s simply informing him.

“No, sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex sits as straight as he can manage, shoulders back, thighs and spine tensed.

“It’s okay, baby boy,” Y/N slips the back of her hand across his cheek and down his chest before pulling away. The creak of the bed springs tell Alex that she’s climbed on, hopefully, he prays as fervently as he can, to retrieve the strap-on she’d left him to contemplate this whole time. There’s moving and rustling and breathing but it’s all muddling together in his ears. He can’t make out where anything is, what anything is. He can only wait.

Something firm brushes against his lips. Y/N is in front of him now, and, he hopes, wearing the harness. The dildo is what’s pressing at his lips, and it is pressing now, not just brushing against them. Y/N wants him to let her in. He does, with relish.

“Good boy,” Y/N intones above him, her hands reaching for his head and combing through his hair. She doesn’t try directing him at first, just lets him explore the toy on his own. The silicone feels odd against his lips, it dries too quickly every time he pulls back so his mouth catches against its veins on each push back in. He isn’t sure how much of it he’s managing to fit into his mouth but he finds his limit fairly quickly, accidentally gagging himself and having to pull off.

“Sorry,” he pants, wishing he could wipe the spit that’s dripping down his chin, but his arms are still tied to the bar behind him. He must look so pathetic right now. His cock gives another twinge in its cage.

“It’s okay baby boy, try again, you can do it.” Y/N reassures him gently and pulls his mouth back to the toy. This time, when he reaches his limit and starts to pull away, Y/N stops him. She grips his hair tightly and holds the back of his head still on her cock. Alex gags again but stays still, and after a moment the intrusion doesn’t feel as bothersome. “Good boy,” Y/N murmurs above him, and Alex’s chest swells with warmth. “Just take a little more for me, baby boy. There we go,” Y/N eases him down just a fraction, and Alex starts to suck to distract his throat from wanting to push the toy out the other way.

“Fuck, you look so good like this baby,” Y/N sighs above him, petting his hair in appreciation. “Can just imagine how jealous all those guys at the club would be, seeing you suck me down so good. They’d all want a turn. It’s a shame to have you waste such a pretty mouth on a cock that can’t even feel it.” Alex moans around the toy and Y/N lets him pull back to suckle at the head. “You tryin’ to make me cum, baby boy?” Y/N laughs as Alex nods. “Such a fucking cumslut, aren’t you? Perfect fucking toy for that club.”

Alex’s mouth is suddenly empty and the air around him grows still and cold. He wants to call out, ask where she’s gone, but he doesn’t dare. Y/N keeps him waiting, testing him to see if he can behave, if he can keep quiet.

He passes.

The restraints holding his wrists to the bar click as Y/N undoes the buckles. She carefully rubs each wrist and moves the arm gently back and forth so she doesn’t shock his joints, before placing each hand palm down on the bed in front of him.

“Stand up, and keep bent over.” Alex pushes up from his knees onto his toes gracefully, in a move reminiscent of a yoga transition, and sinks his head and shoulders to the mattress, back arching and feet still widespread, leaving his ass open and on display. Arousal courses through him from the depth of the submission in this position. “So pretty,” Y/N coos. “I’ll have to bring a camera next time.” Next time. Alex’s blood sings at the promise, and he hasn’t even been fucked yet.

A fingernail trails lightly over the head of his cock through its cage, and he groans, unable to hold it in. That earns him a smack right over the plug sticking out of his exposed hole. He can’t stop the moan that follows that either, and Y/N repeats the motion harder, and harder again.

“C’mon baby, if you’re gonna moan like a little bitch then at least try to sound sexy while you do it,” she sneers behind him. Alex feels his body flame red under the insult. “You just sound like a slut. There’s plenty of those to go around, nothing making you special.” Alex cries out at the next hit and feels a spurt of precome force its way out of his cock. “That’s more like it,” Y/N praises, and he sighs in relief that he got it right.

The next sound Alex hears is the snick of a plastic cap – lube – he clenches just thinking about it. Then the plug in him is being twisted, swirled and thrust in and out of him teasingly. He moans again, now that he has permission, and Y/N pumps the plug in even harder as a reward. His ass doesn’t want to let it go when she pulls it away, oh so slowly, but it’s almost immediately replaced with her finger. It’s much thinner than the plug, and Alex feels his hole fluttering around it wantonly, silently begging for more, which she readily gives.

A second finger follows quickly and easily. The third is tougher, this time it’s a stretch, but the tight pain sends another shot of warmth through his cock and leaks out of the tip onto the bed. Y/N notices.

“You like that, baby boy?” she asks, sugar sweet. Alex nods and whines, and her fingers leave him instantly.

“Yes, Mistress!” he corrects, arching his back to try to find her fingers. She obliges him and pushes them in again.

“You think you’re ready?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answers properly, fucking himself back into her hand.

“Okay,” she withdraws her fingers and gives his butt a soothing pat. “On the bed, on your back for me, yeah?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Alex turns to sit on the bed and hoists himself back until he can feel their pillows and headboard behind him. He lays down, bending his knees and pulling them back to his chest. The bed dips below him as Y/N climbs on too, crawling between Alex’s legs. Another click, more lube drips down his ass, the cool liquid pooling on the covers as it runs off his ass. He feels the dildo press against his hole and he holds his breath.

The first nudge inside of him is strange. It’s thicker and rounder than anything he’s had back there before. The second little push is uncomfortable, and Alex scrunches his eyes shut, even though, with the blindfold on, it doesn’t make much difference. Y/N’s hands smooth up the backs of his thighs, rubbing gently, soothing the tension that had rocketed through them a moment before. After a few seconds of sympathetic touching Alex manages to relax, and he feels the dildo slip a little further inside of him.

Y/N keeps up soft cooing noises under her breath, making sure Alex knows how good he’s being, what a perfect baby boy he’s being for her. The praise makes him glow, and helps him forget the pain that’s still pulsing dully between his legs.

“I think you deserve a little reward, for being so good,” Y/N whispers when she’s finally pushed the toy all the way in, her hips flush with his.

“Can I see you?” Alex asks desperately. “Wanna look at you Mistress, please.”

“That’s what you want?” Y/N laughs, a little creully. “I was going to take this off,” her fingers skim over his balls and the cock cage keeping him soft and Alex jumps under the touch, “but if you want the blindfold off instead…” Y/N trails off, leaving the choice up to him. Alex falters, caught out by his own eagerness. If Y/N doesn’t take the cage off him now, she might not take it off at all. But on the other hand, the thought of not being able to see her the rest of the night… not being able to watch her fucking him, to see the cock pushing in and out of his body, the same sight he’d been so transfixed by when he was watching it happen to Jared… he needs to see it.

“The blindfold,” Alex whimpers as Y/N continues to tease his cock through the metal rings clamped around it. “Take off the blindfold, please, Mistress.”

“As you wish.”

Alex blinks up at Y/N’s smiling face as his eyes adjust to the light in the room. She looks fucking sexy. She’s in the same lingerine that she’d worn to Femme Fatale that night, the set he’d picked out for her to wear, and the addition of the leather harness at her hips is unfairly attractive. Alex glances down to their hips, takes in the sight of his cock lying limp against his stomach in its little metal prison, and skims further down to catch a glimpse of shiny black poking out from between their bodies. He swallows hard. This was absolutely the right decision.

“Like what you see baby boy?” Y/N taunts, swivelling her hips just a little to pull a groan from him as the dildo rubs against his prostate.

“Fuck yes,” Alex whines, the sound catching high in his throat and pouring out of him raggedly.

“Gonna let me fuck you now?” she asks sweetly, swinging her hips again.

“Fucking please, Mistre– fuck!” Alex shouts as Y/N pulls out and pistons her hips back in harshly. The pain is still there but the sharp strike of the toy inside him sends something like lightning up his spine that drowns out any other feeling his body is trying to conjure.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Y/N pants, beginning to sound out of breath as she fucks his ass relentlessly. “Love that about you, baby. Let me hear you.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” That’s the only word Alex can remember right now. He’s been waiting for this, dreaming about this, for so long and now it’s finally happening he can’t hold himself back. His cock aches and his head goes fuzzy as all the blood in his body tries to drain to his groin to get him hard but the cage keeps him soft and passive. It doesn’t stop him from leaking precum all over his stomach though. It’s dripping down his side, pooling in his belly button, leaving him slick and sticky and fucking humiliated the more he looks at it. Y/N catches where he’s looking and smirks, running her fingers through the offending liquid and bringing it to his lips.

“Look at this fucking mess, such a needy little slut aren’t you?” Alex whimpers and nods, head jerking back as Y/N pushes his hips up so she can get even deeper. “Like my cock in your ass baby boy?” Alex nods again, lost for words and breath. “Can’t wait to see how much more this slutty little hole can take. Maybe it can take two? What do you think about that, me and someone else fucking you open so you’re all loose and used up?”

Y/N’s monologue has Alex gasping for air. He’s always found her voice sexy, and when she paints these pictures for him, how can he not fall straight in and give himself up to the pleasure she’s promising?

“Wanna get you a cock that’s so big I can see it inside you.” Y/N runs her hand over his stomach, through the sticky mess he’s leaking over his happy trail. “Wanna see it right here, punching up inside you, filling you up so good.” Alex groans, pushing up into her hand and pushing his hips back onto her cock. “That’s it baby, fuck yourself for me, good boy.”

Alex is starting to get dizzy. The physical exertion and the immense pleasure and the tinge of pain and lack of hard on to channel everything into has him thrown off, and achingly desperate – obviously just how Y/N wants him. Then, without warning, the pressure on his cock disappears and it fills so rapidly it’s painful and without the chance to even think about asking for permission he’s cumming in long pulses, shooting up his chest and onto his lips and his chin. He thinks he screamed but he can’t be sure and then everything goes orange and red and splotchy, and then white.

Alex blinks awake in the semi-dark, the blue glow of Y/N’s laptop illuminating her baggy t-shirt and messy hair as she sits up in bed reading. It takes him a moment to orient himself, to remember how to move his fingers and toes but he finally manages to drag himself closer to Y/N.

“Hey there, sleepy head,” she grins down at him, and reaches out to stroke his hair off his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Completely dead,” Alex breathes. “In a good way,” he adds when he catches the tinge of worry flit across Y/N’s face. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, baby boy,” Y/N leans down and brushes his lips in a soft kiss. “So, you want to do that again?”

“Absolutely,” Alex sighs, snuggling into Y/N’s side and wrapping his arms around her like a teddy bear.

“Good,” Y/N pushes away her laptop and settles into the cuddle, curling up in Alex’s arms like a happy little spoon. “Because I’ve got some ideas.”

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[kiribaku-queen]

Congrats on the 500 followers! I was wondering if you can do a Deku request with some angst where the reader and him were best friends until they got to UA Deku gets super busy with hero training and almight that when ever the reader asks to hang up it he says no. So later on they start to hang out with kirishima more. Deku starts to notice and is trying to get readers attention again. It could end either but I just want the reader to end up with one or the other. I absolutely love your writing! Also sorry if this is super vague.

Little Too Late

Pairing: Midoriya x reader, Kirishima x reader

Angst, little fluff

Word count: 4.6K

A/N: I’ll be honest, this took me FOREVER to finish because I have the idea in my head, but somehow it just would flow out into words. And every time I wrote it, I didn’t think it was good enough so I kept rewriting it. I don’t think I’m completely satisfied, like some parts feel rushed??? But I also didn’t not want to put it out and leave you hanging. So SORRY if you’re disappointed in my writing with this one but I really tried my best. I’d still like to know your thoughs and thank you for all your continuous support~!

You screamed with excitement when your childhood best friend came to you with the news that he got accepted in his dream school. You had so many questions for him. Like how did he get in with no quirk? What was the test like? When does he start? Are the uniforms pretty? Did he meet any hot boys?! Okay, that question was specifically for you. Deku just sat there, rubbing the back of his neck, waiting for you to calm down with your loud mouth.

That’s why you two worked so well. This is why you were the best of friends. You could talk all day long, about anything really. Small things that happened in your day, gossip you heard at school, talking about boys! And Izuku took it all in, watching you with curiosity and listening to you intently. But it was also vice versa. When Izuku was talking about All Might, a hero fight that he saw when he was passing by, or heroes on TV, it was his turn to be a blabber mouth. And you would listen carefully to what he had to say. You respected each other’s interests and that’s why you blended so well together. Also on the fact that you both bonded over katsudon, but that’s besides the point.

Let’s not forget the huge secret your best friend just unleashed to you. You didn’t believe it at first. Because how could small, delicate, sweet Deku who you’ve know for your whole life to be quirkless to all of a sudden have a quirk? No less, All Might’s quirk? He couldn’t show you because he would break literally all his bones. But he did show you All Might’s autograph and that’s all the proof you needed. So it finally became a reality that Izuku Midoriya would be going to his dream school and become a hero.

“You’re gonna leave me for all your new hero friends,” you pouted, throwing yourself on his bed. He sits down next to you and pats your back.

“No I won’t. You’ll still be my best friend,” he reassured you but you weren’t convinced.

“I’ll be your best friend but you won’t see me anymore,” you began to fake cry. Usually by now, Deku would be panicking, trying to all different types of ways to cheer you up but this time, he plays with your hair to calm you down.

“I’ll see you every weekend, how about that?” he suggested. You jumped up right, sitting on your knees and facing the green haired boy.

“Promise?” you ask, sticking out your pinky finger and your bottom lip jutting out. He smiles at your softly and interlocks pinkies.

“Promise.”

“If you don’t, I’m gonna kill you! Power or not, I’ll give you a good punch straight to the cheek!” you playfully threatened, landing a fist that stopped right before it hit his cheek. You could never really hurt him or even lay a finger on him. He was too precious for you to lose.

 School started and you two went your separate ways. Deku went to the famous U.A school while you went to your ordinary high school where nothing ever happens. At first, Deku kept his promise. Every weekend and sometimes even during the week days, he would come visit you after school to tell you all about what happen in class or about one of his classmates’ quirks. He was always so full of high energy and had so much determination to grow stronger that it fascinated you. You could watch him for hours on end, just listening to him and his stories. Often, he would show you all the notes he wrote down in his notebook. His mouth was like a machine gun that was stuck and couldn’t stop.

Although you were so happy for him and his new life, you were feeling left out. High school felt different without Deku by your side. It was hard for you to make friends because Izuku has been your only friend for so long that you didn’t know how to befriend new people. Most days, you would be eating lunch and spending free time by yourself. There was an occasion where you tried to talk to your classmates, but you ended up embarrassing yourself and you never wanted to do that again. Izuku was your support system and without him here, you felt your days getting longer and darker.

Izuku noticed that you weren’t as talkative lately. You usually would have a lot to say during his long rants. Whether its small comments or complaining or reactions, you always had something to say. But this time around, you were silent and it was concerning him. Thanks to his observation skills, he caught on to your strange behavior early on. And he was going to do something about it.

Him and a few of his classmates were going to mall since they needed a few things for a class trip. So of course, he invited you to meet a few of them since they were his closest friends. Not going to lie, you were going to deny the request. You didn’t want to impose and make it seem like Deku had to introduce you to his new friends. They were his friends. He can go and have fun with his friends all he wants without you, it was no biggie. But maybe he was doing this so that both of his worlds could combine. When Izuku was giving you those puppy eyes, you couldn’t say no. And you were about to flake last minute if it weren’t for him showing up at your house to make sure you get there. He was one persistent little man.

“Do I have to go? Maybe I’ll join next time,” you told Deku, trying to get out of meeting his friends.

“Come,” he insisted, grabbing you by the arm, practically dragging you out of the house.

“What if they don’t like me?” you worried. Honestly, any excuse you could make up was good at this point.

“They’re not that kind of people. You’ll love them!” he swore on his life. Yeah, well you’ll see about that.

You and Deku were the last to show up. His whole group was already there waiting. Maybe they were going to think badly of you now because you were late. Deku yelled and waved at them from afar, letting them know that he was here with you. A guy with glass and his friend with bright, red hair both waved while a shorter girl beside them was watching you two carefully.

“Woah, who’s this? A girlfriend?” the red head questions Deku when you finally arrived in front of them. You caught the shorter girl looking back between you two in a frantic and nervous manner.

“No, she’s my best friend!” Deku waved it off. You glanced at the girl again and you saw her sigh with relief. It didn’t take a genius to know that she has some type of feelings towards your friend. Out of the corner of your eye, you also caught Deku sneaking a glance at her. Oh? Is there a little love situation happening? You tried to hide a snicker that was trying to form on your lips but it kind of failed because you felt your best friend give you a hard nudge to the gut, making you immediately shut up.

“Let’s go!” Deku changed the subject real quick.

At first, shopping with Deku’s new friends was really fun. They took time to get to know you, chat with you, and even joke around with you. It made you gain confidence that you actually can make friends. But there was a small voice in the back of your mind telling you that they are just good at conversating. Maybe they don’t want to actually be your friend. Maybe it’s because they’ve been trained to be friendly since that’s what heroes have to do to calm civilians during a time of crisis. You were having the most fun you’ve had in a long time, so you disregarded that thought. But that fun didn’t last too long.

About an hour in, slowly but surely, Deku and his friends started to drift apart from you. They started to pull him aside, laughing and having a good time. While you? You stood to the side, watching them as they have fun. Deku and his friends were so immersed in their own conversations that you were practically invisible to them. It was like they forgot that they had a whole conversation with you just minutes prior. So when they walked ahead of you, you purposely walked slower.

This was embarrassing. They weren’t paying attention to you. Not like they should since they didn’t know you, but being left out bummed you out. And Izuku wasn’t doing anything about it. It was nice that he has more friends now. It really was. Seeing him converse and be himself around other people was so amazing. But they were so different from you. What if he didn’t want to hang out with you anymore because of that?

“Uh, (y/n) right?” you heard a voice come up next to you. Oh, it was one of Izuku’s friends. He had bright red hair and a toothy grin. It was a simple question yet you hadn’t processed what he said.

“What?” you asked in a daze.

“Your name. It’s (y/n), isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah,” you laughed awkwardly, not able to keep eye contact with him. Kirishima kept asking you questions and you responded with one word, or if he’s lucky, two word answers. You thought that giving him short answers would make him leave you alone. But on the contrary, it made him want to stay even more. He saw you were being left out of the group. Uncool for his classmates to do that, but unmanly of Deku, too, because he was the one who brought you. Not to mention that you were his best friend since forever. But he was being left out too. Which he was okay with, but obviously you weren’t and it was written all over your face. So it seemed like a good idea for two loners to hang out with each other. Plus, this was a good opportunity to make friends with such a pretty lady.

And oh boy, was it working. Sure, it was awkward at first because you really weren’t in the mood for talking. But Kirishina just made every conversation, every topic so natural and free flowing. He just captivated your whole attention that you didn’t even think about your friend ditching you to be with his other friends.

“I probably should get going,” you excused yourself. It was already getting late with the sun starting to set in the golden, pink sky. Your parents definitely wouldn’t like it if you stayed any later. Kirishima frowned, disappointed that your time together was so short. Personally, he was having a great time talking to you, laughing with you, being with you, looking at you…

“Ah, let me get your number,” Kirishima quickly whipped out his phone, stopping his thoughts from exploring any more ideas on why he liked being with you. But maybe he would think more about it later. You agreed to exchanging numbers with the red head and headed home before it got too dark. You didn’t even bother letting Izuku know. After doing that to you? He didn’t deserve another second of your time. You really wished you never went. But at least you had a little fun with Kirishima at the end.

You walked back alone, thinking about your time with your new friend. On cue, you got a ping on your phone. Suddenly, your lips turned from a frown into a wide smile that you had to bite your bottom lip from smiling so hard.

Get home safe 😊 -K

If you weren’t in public right now, you think you’d be giggling like a little girl. He was such a sweetheart it was driving you crazy.

When Izuku found out that you walked home by yourself, he physically facepalmed himself and immediately ran to you. How could he not notice that you weren’t by his side? You must have been that upset to leave without telling him. Stupid, stupid. How could he be so stupid and ignorant to leave you alone when he was the one who invited you out. There was nothing in the world that could make up for what he did, but he had to try.

He knocked on your door, leaving over and panting from his sprint to your house. Seconds later, you were opening the door with a blank expression and arms crossed against your chest.

“What.” You coldly asked him, making Izuku freeze up. He was in a lot of trouble and he deserved it.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say. No matter what he could say, what excuse he would muster up, none of it would matter because he messed up. Big time. So instead of giving you a big explanation on his side of the story, he just could tell you that he was sorry. But even that didn’t have any effect on you. You tapped your finger against your forearm, the frown on your face just getting deeper. You were piercing daggers at him, making him unable to do anything else.

“Hm.” You hummed, not acknowledging or accepting his apology. “You left me.” You started.

“I did.”

“Alone.”

“I know.”

“Why did you bring me if you just wanted to hang out with your friends?” you questioned, still not understanding why he did that. And truth be told, he didn’t know why either. It just happened, he guessed. But if he said that, he knew that wasn’t a good enough excuse. And you knew that too. But even if it was just an honest mistake, you wanted to stay mad at him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. You could see in his face and the way that he was acting that he was truly sorry. “I promise, it’ll never happen again.”

“Promise?” you asked to make sure you heard correctly. You weren’t forgiving him. Oh, no. Not just yet. But, as long as he doesn’t ditch you for his new friends again like that, then maybe you would get over it someday. He nods his head frantically and sticks his pinky finger out.

“Swear,” he interlocks your pinkies together and presses your thumbs together to seal the deal.

“Fine,” you huffed and looked away with one of your cheeks puffed out. He made the promise. A pinky promise that he couldn’t leave you hanging ever again.

What a lie that was.

“Deku! You want to get ice cream after school?” you called him, already excited to eat your favorite dessert.

“Ah, sorry (y/n). Not today. I have training with All Might today after school. Maybe next time!”

 “Hey, Deku! My mom asked if you wanted to come over for dinner.”

“I’m a little busy tonight. Tell your mom that I said sorry and that I’ll join next time!” he apologized, hanging up rather quickly. No goodbye, see you later, or hope you’re doing good. Nothing. You sighed and went downstairs to tell your mom the news but you weren’t very happy. But you remembered that he’s not the Deku you used to know. He was training to become a hero, he was always going to be busy. You just weren’t used to this. But you can’t help but be disappointed and scared that you were losing your best friend.

 “Dekuu, I already have the movie set up. Are you almost here?”

“Today’s Friday already? I forgot to tell you that All Might wanted to meet up for extra training.”

“Again?” you could hear the disappointment in your voice.

“I know, I’m sorry. Maybe-”

“Next time?” you finished his sentence, already knowing what he was going to say. This happens so often that you were already anticipating his answer.

“Yeah,” he breathed, not knowing what else to say.

“Sure,” you say. Soon after, the call ended and you just ended up watching the movie alone. Drink and popcorn in hand, eating away your sorrows and feelings of being abandoned by your one and only true friend.

But he wasn’t your only friend, was he? You paused the movie and picked up the phone again.

“Hello?” you heard that familiar, happy voice. You could already imagine his face right now.

“Are you busy right now?” you asked to make sure that he wasn’t training also.

“Not at the moment. What’s up?”

“Do you want to watch a movie together?”

 Calls started getting shorter. Texts stopped being answered. And you stopped caring. It was the same excuse every time and you ran out of patience. If he wasn’t going to try in your friendship, then you weren’t either. It was until one day that he showed up at your door.

You were standing against the door frame with your arms crossed and a clearly pissed off expression while Izuku was there standing frail and hunched over. Hm, seems like a familiar sight. You waited for him to speak up because you weren’t going to put in more effort than you should to make this friendship work.

“I’m sorry,” again with the apology. You were tired of hearing that word. The more he said it, the less meaning it has behind it.

“You promised,” you said, almost bursting in tears with how much emotion you were holding in that it surprised you. But you kept yourself calm and composed, controlling your breathing so that you don’t break down you barriers.

“I know. I know, but I’m here to make it up to you. Your birthday is coming up. Let me take you out for the day. We’ll spend the whole day together. Just you and me. I won’t leave or ditch you or make up any excuses. You have me all to yourself. How does that sound?” he offered you his best option on trying to save his mess up. It was tempting. It really was. Part of you wanted to say no because you felt so hurt over the last couple of weeks because of him. But part of you wants to feel that joy and happiness again. The joy and happiness that only Izuku could give you because he was your everything.

“You’ll plan the whole day?”

“The whole day. You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he said, still hopeful that you’ll agree. And how could you not. You’ll give him one more chance.

“Fine. But I’m dressing up so you should match me,” you told him, still having your angry face on but let’s be honest, inside you were feeling the butterflies and were so eager for your birthday to come.

You were dressed in your cutest clothes, your hair and makeup to match. The day was finally here. You and Deku could finally catch up and just hang out like you used to. It was going to be a good day, you could feel it.

You arrived at the meeting place Deku wrote down for you. He said to be there at noon sharp because he had a surprise for you. You smiled and waited on a bench that was nearby. You wonder what it could be.

10 minutes rolled by. Maybe he was running a bit late. But a text at least would be nice.

Then 30 minutes. Maybe he missed the train?

1 hour. Maybe he forgot where you were supposed to meet? Or what if he’s here and he just hasn’t found you yet? You looked around but there were very little people here. If he were here, he should have seen you by now or you would have spotted him instantly.

2 hours.

3 hours.

You knew it. You were so stupid to think to actually trust him again. All emotion vanished from your body, feeling numb all over. You couldn’t even shed a tear. He told you to come out, that he planned something for your birthday and he’s the one not to show. Classy.  The train ride and the walk home were slow. Painfully slow. You watched as every tree, bush, landscape and greenery passed you. The birds were in full song. The streets were busy with people, laughing and smiling. While you were here, completely emotionless. You didn’t deserve this. Even if you did, you wished it was through some other way. Closing the door gently to your front door, you made the announcement to your family that you were home.

“(y/n)? Home already?” your mom called from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you sighed, not giving her any details and feeling emotionally drained. “I’ll be upstairs. Don’t check up on me and I’m not eating dinner today.” You told your mom, her catching your strange behavior right away and that worried her.

“But I’m making your favorite. You okay, honey?” your mom came out of the kitchen to ask you. But you had already disappeared into your room, locking it and putting headphones in so you weren’t disturbed. You were going to keep yourself distracted all day to drown out of your own thoughts.

 Even though it was a weekend, Kirishima still decided to visit the school to strengthen his quirk with the help of Aizawa-sensei. He was passing the school gates, about to enter into the building when out of the corner of his eye, he saw something green flash in the woods area of campus. Curious, thinking that it couldn’t be him, he decided to check it out and see with his own two eyes.

Kirishima got close enough to just get a glimpse but his gut feeling was right. There was Izuku Midoriya, practicing on controlling his quirk without breaking all of his bones. All Might was there to guide him too. What day was it again? Wasn’t it your birthday? And didn’t you have plans with Izuku? So if he’s here, then…

The realization hit him like a brick. Forgetting about his practice with Aizawa, he would apologize later, he ran as fast to you, making a few pitstops on the way.

 “(y/n),” your mother came in your room, using a spare key to unlock your door. You were laying on your bed, streaks of tears stained your cheeks and your eyes were red from crying. Your headphones were placed tightly on your ears, music playing loud enough to make you forget about your surroundings. But your mother ruined the atmosphere when she barged in your room after you said that you wanted to be alone.

“Mom, I said I didn’t want to eat dinner,” you reminded her, pausing your music for a split second to tell her that. You were about to play that blaring music once again but your mom had to say something else.

“I know. But there’s someone at the door for you,” she told you quickly before you could push her out again. You froze. Someone was at the door for you? Was Izuku finally here and to apologize again? Ready to confront him and take all your anger out, you stormed out of your room and to the front door. You opened the door, ready to release all hell but you stopped yourself when you saw that it wasn’t Izuku waiting for you.

“Kirishima?” you were confused why he was here right now. “What are you-”

“I come bringing gifts,” he holds up a bouquet of flowers and a basket full of your favorite things. “Thought you might be needing a friend right now.” And you teared up when you heard that. You bit your lip and nodded your head, letting him inside. You brought him to your room, avoiding the looks you were getting from your family members. As soon as you closed the door to your room, Kirishima drops everything in his hands and pulls you in for a tight and comforting hug. The sudden act made you gasp in surprise.

“Are you okay?” he whispered into your hair, his hand covering your head protectively. You wanted to lie to him, saying that you were alright but he could see right through you. Especially with your appearance now. So you shook your head and buried your face into his shoulder, hugging him back just as tightly. You stayed in that position for quite a while, just basking in each other’s presence. It was like he was trying to give you some of his happiness and take away some of your misery to help you feel a little bit better. And it was working. You felt calm enough to at least have a conversation with him.

“Kiri, you didn’t have to do this,” you tell him, pushing away from the hug slightly.

“It’s your birthday,” he commented. You wished it wasn’t your birthday. Because of this experience, you were going to think about it every birthday, ruining the celebration.

“It’s just a birthday,” you brushed it off like it didn’t hurt. Kirishima frowns at your response.

“I know how excited you were to spend this day with him,” ouch. It’s like reopening a fresh wound that hadn’t fully healed. “So I’ll spend it with you. We can do whatever you want. Watch a movie, just lay down and chill, or… I can take you out on a date to distract yourself.” He hesitated to say that last part and a light blush appeared on his cheeks.

“A date?”

“It doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. Just forget I said that. We can go out, not like go out go out but like go outside and do an activity for the rest of the day, if you’d like,” he went on a rant, the blush on his cheeks growing deeper with each word he said. You thought about it. The flowers. The gift basket. Going out of his way to make time for you on your birthday. This was the guy you needed in your life. Not Deku. Not someone who ignores you or doesn’t keep his promises. You didn’t him. You looked a Kirishima. He was a good guy. He was sweet, thoughtful, sincere. Maybe you would give him a shot.

 The final bell rang in the 1-A classroom. Students were packing up their stuff, some staying behind and chatting about their training and how much they improved. While his classmates were indulging in their conversations, he was blowing up his phone with text messages to you. You weren’t responding to his calls or texts. He was doing everything he could to reach you, but you didn’t seem to be available. He was so concentrated on his phone that he didn’t see a certain red-head trying to sprint out the door.

“Woah, Kirishima. Where you going in such a hurry?” Kaminari stops him before he’s out the door. It wasn’t like Kirishima to leave immediately after the bell rings. He’s usually with his best friend Bakugou or hanging around until everyone leaves together.

“I’m going to pick up my girlfriend from her school,” he announces, grabbing the whole class’s attention.

“So you finally started dating (y/n), huh?” Sero congratulated him with a pat on the back.

“It’s about time,” Bakugou grumbled. He had to deal with Kirishima’s constant talking about you every day to the point where he wanted to strangle him to stop talking. But he was proud of his friend. Upon hearing your name, Deku shoots his head up and listens in on the conversation.

“Yeah, and I’m going to give her all the attention that she needs and more. Because she deserves it,” Kirishima said a little louder, taking a stab at Deku. Deku swallowed the lump in his throat. No matter how much he would apologize, it was already too late. You had already replaced him with someone else.

[owl-with-a-pen]

Brainy getting Kara a cat that looks like Streaky after she gets out of the Phantom Zone

- Cute! Of course! x

Adjusting to life back in National City had been far harder than Kara had anticipated.

Never was that more apparent than when she found herself alone.

Not that she’d been alone very much. Since her family had come to her rescue, Kara hadn’t really been permitted that much time to herself. Alex had been bringing over care packages that she and Kelly had put together almost three times daily, and that was only during the hours Kara was home. At work, it appeared it was Nia’s turn to play the role of overbearing minder. She’d been sticking to Kara’s side for just about every second of the workday. Kara thought it was kind of sweet, all things considered, it was just… Nia was about as subtle about it as a brick through the window - or Brainy when he’d turned up in CatCo’s elevator last year.

Speaking of Brainy, he was just about the only friend Kara hadn’t been seeing on a daily basis. Even Lena was making her rounds, trying to find any excuse to get Kara out of the apartment or – failing that – inviting herself over unprompted.

Kara appreciated everyone’s attention, she really did, but as she sat there on her couch, curled up in her comfiest cardigan and sweats combo on the first day off she’d had all week… she couldn’t help but feel some semblance of relief.

As much as she loved her family, she hated hurting them, and when her mask finally came crumbling down after days of keeping it plastered to her face, Kara knew that was exactly what she would have inadvertently caused.

Alex may have let her cry in her arms for a solid thirty minutes after she’d stumbled into J’onn’s Tower-turned-ship, and even seen her at her worst on the days that followed when she’d slept over for those first few terrifying nights… but Kara couldn’t bear to let her sister hold onto that weight for longer than it felt necessary. She was Supergirl, the hero National City looked up to, that even her friends looked up to, and she hated causing any of them the same kind of heartache that they’d felt in her absence.

So, yes, maybe the stillness of her apartment was kind of stifling. Maybe every shadow that jutted across her walls reminded her of the Phantoms that had loomed overhead in that awful alien dimension, but at least when she was alone, jumping at something so fiercely she scorched a wall, or grabbing a pillow so hard it exploded into feathers in her hands could be hidden from any prying eyes.

She would get through this eventually. She just needed time to sort out her head, to focus on the positives, to…

Kara was thrown from her thoughts somewhat abruptly when she heard three quick knocks at her apartment door.

She frowned, lowering the TV’s volume as she heaved herself from the blanket and pillow nest she’d made at the couch corner. She padded over to the door curiously, relaxing into her heightened sense of hearing just enough to pick up on two distinct heartbeats on the other side. Although, one was… far less human in nature than she had expected, which certainly raised a big question.

When she opened the door to find Brainy holding a cat out to her much in the same way someone might offer flowers, she got her answer.

The cat, at least, seemed perfectly content to hang from Brainy’s outstretched hands, its back legs kicked up towards her, large amber eyes wide and unblinking.

It opened its mouth to yawn, as though it had grown used – if not bored – to this kind of behaviour.

“Hey Brainy,” Kara said, her eyes about as wide as the cat’s. “Um, what’s going on?”

“I brought you a gift!” Brainy announced, lifting the cat higher as though to emphasise his point. The cat, to its credit, didn’t appear to find this perplexing at all.

That made one person, at least.

Kara blinked in stunned silence, rubbing at the side of her head. “You got me a cat?” she asked, posing the question in a half joking manner. When Brainy’s eager smile only widened, realisation finally set in. Kara’s mouth fell open. “Wait. You got me a cat?”

“Indeed,” Brainy said enthusiastically, striding past Kara into the room, cat in tow.

Kara could only stare at the space he’d left behind. She shook her head, quickly turning towards him. “Why…?”

Brainy brought the cat closer to his chest, almost contemplatively, though he continued to hold it at that same awkward angle.

The cat licked its nose in disgruntled acceptance.

“Well, since you asked,” Brainy began, “I have been studying… both the medical and psychological benefits of having pets recently. Cats offer companionship, but did you also know that their purrs have curative properties, and petting them has been proven to work against stress and anxiety?” Brainy’s expression turned serious suddenly and he swivelled towards her, thrusting the cat out at her with not even a word of warning. “With that in mind, I present to you, Streaky 2.0!”

Kara reached for the cat instinctively, hastily taking it beneath the shoulders before transferring it into her own arms. Old habit kicked in almost immediately, and she found herself pulling the cat towards her shoulder with all the gentleness she’d put into practice holding this particular cat’s namesake. The cat sagged into her arms in seconds, kicking up a fuss as its whiskers tickled curiously beneath her chin.

“Streaky two point-” Kara began, only to be interrupted when the cat began to purr in soft breathy beats against her chest. Its damp nose probed her neck, tracking her scent. “Oh… oh.” Animals had always seemed to take a liking to Kara, that was true, but this was strange even for her.

Kara squinted at Brainy suspiciously. “This is a real cat, right?”

Brainy scoffed. “Why, do you think I would build one?” His eyebrows drew together suddenly, a deadly serious expression. “I did consider it. A cat as indestructible as Supergirl would be an incredible feat of science. But, no. This is a regular cat. I retrieved him from a shelter.” He leaned in, nearly conspiratorially. “Would you like to see the adoption paperwork?”

Kara snorted. “Y’know, I think I’ll take your word for it.” Her smile sobered as the cat continued to purr up a storm in her arms, closing his eyes into a half squint in total feline bliss. “You really got him for me?”

“Of course.” Brainy softened suddenly, folding his arms. He bit his lip, as though searching for the right words. After a moment’s consideration, he smiled awkwardly. “You were… in pain. Struggling with life back from the Phantom Zone. Additionally,” he gestured bluntly around the room, “you currently live alone.”

Kara laughed bleakly. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“What I mean to say,” Brainy hastened, “is that cats make people happy, and Streaky made you very happy. You felt more grounded learning to care for him, however, I believe this time it is time for your companion to take care of you.” When Brainy smiled again, it was far more relaxed. “I spent many days at the shelter making note of every cat’s characteristics, vocal patterns, requirements of other’s attention, and this cat surpassed all of my expectations.” He nodded succinctly. “He is loyal, I am certain of that.”

Kara grinned. “Well, he certainly let you carry him around like a crazy person.”

“Nia tells me cats are resilient creatures,” Brainy said with a shrug, “this one especially so. I think he will make an excellent fit.”

Kara’s smile widened further. “Brainy… this is incredibly sweet. I don’t know what to-” Her eyes widened. “Oh, I don’t have any supplies.”

“Fear not!” Brainy said, finger raised. “I have come prepared with the basics, although I am sure you would prefer to personalise your pet’s belongings in the long term.”

Kara rolled her eyes. Of course Brainy would have come bearing all the necessities for pet care. He was never one to do anything inefficiently. She pressed her lips into the cat’s warm fur, just between his ears. He was a little softer than her old Streaky, although she liked those small differences. It made this cat symbolise more to her than just the nostalgia she knew Brainy was hoping to achieve, but also the sense of a new beginning.

In truth, Kara hadn’t been considering getting a pet any time soon, not when she had so little time even for herself. As Supergirl, it felt wrong, somehow, to have another living thing rely on her as its sole care giver.

But, Brainy was right. Cats had always been her soft spot, and this one already felt like it was healing something deep inside of her, stitching an old wound that wasn’t even visible on the surface. Maybe having a pet around wasn’t such a bad idea, after all, especially when this cat was as perfect as Brainy had insinuated.

Besides, it got awfully lonely here at night…

Kara glanced up at Brainy suddenly. “Wait, is this why you haven’t been around the last few days? You were out scouting for the perfect cat?”

Brainy grimaced. “Busted.”

Kara laughed, she couldn’t help it. Brainy might have changed a lot over the last few months, but he was still as candid as he’d ever been, maybe now even more-so without all the secrets he’d had weighing him down.

She knew, deep down, that a part of her had changed, too. And maybe, maybe it was time she let down some of her walls, enough that she could let her family see her for every change the Phantom Zone had brought on – good or bad.

And, Brainy? Well, he seemed like the perfect start. After all, there was so much more she wanted to learn about him, too.

So, with Streaky 2.0 still snuggled contently in her arms, Kara smiled, taking Brainy’s arm with her free hand. “I think you’re right. I do want to personalise my pet supplies." She brightened. "Hey, maybe we can go to the pet store tomorrow!”

“But, I was just there,” Brainy pointed out.

Kara rolled her eyes. “Yes, but you put in the study-time. You know this cat better than I do, right now. I’m gonna need your expertise to find the best stuff to truly pamper him. Besides,” Kara squeezed his arm, “I want to spend some time with my friend.”

When Brainy’s eyes sparked and he grinned his affirmation, Kara was so, so grateful to see it.

“Very well, then,” Brainy agreed. “Tomorrow it is!”

[realcube]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJE29FG7/

omg i hope u can open the link and see the tiktok i just wanted to share bc it’s so fucking funny. i could def see bokuto, noya, tanaka, or anyone else u can think of sobbing LOL

IRVEBLVGAETZ wait the video was so precious and funny AAAAA 🥺 thank you so much for sharing, anon 🙏

AND YES thEY would!! so i humbly offer you this 

tw// zombies, crying, swearing. mentions of shooting

Kōtarō Bokuto 

you jokingly asked him if he’d leave if you got turned into a zombie and he said HELL NO 

if you’re a zombie then he’ll become a zombie too periodt

akaashi constantly plays the mom friend like ‘if (y/n) jumped off a cliff, would you do it too?’ an bokuto is like ‘fuck yea i would’

but then he was like (with the puppy eyes btw) ‘if i got turned into a zombie, would you leave me, puppy?’

you shook your head, slowly wrapping your arms around his waist and looking up at him, ‘no, kō. in fact, i would handcuff myself to you so you don’t cause any trouble.’

you expected him to chuckle and maybe give you a lil’ kiss but instead he pushed you back onto the couch, so you were laying down and he was on top of you with his head buried in your chest

‘but what if i try to eat your brain?’ bokuto muttered, the cloth of your shirt muffling his sniffles

you shrugged, your hand making its way up his spine to rub his back soothingly, ‘you do that everyday anyway.’

bokuto let out a deep bawl

‘i was joking!’ you cried, thinking that he was crying bc you said he eats at your brain lol

bokuto shook his head, pulling his face back from your chest to reveal his quivering lips, damp puppy-eyes and shiny nose , ‘you’re so damn sweet, (y/n)!’ he howled then hastily concealed his face with your chest 

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, ‘wow, kō. are you really crying because i said i’ll stay with you during the zombie apocalypse- you’re my boyfriend, what do you expect?’

bokuto sighed, quickly calming himself until his wails were nothing but sniffs, then he choked out, ‘but if you’d stick with me through the end of the world, you’d stick with me through anything else, right? like..if i broke my dick- or if i couldn’t play volleyball anymore?’

geez.

he read into that a lot more than you thought he would 

‘oh, yeah- i’ll be with you during anything and everything, don’t worry.’

that was enough to make bokuto start crying again, ‘I DON’T DESERVE YOU, (Y/N)!!’

Yū Nishinoya

ok- y’all aren’t dating yet 

but he has a MASSSSSIVE crush on you and he makes it very obvious

he simps for you on the daily but you always brush off his advances as playful banter or his naturally flirtatious manner

but you secretly really want to be with him but you don’t want to get into a relationship with him just for him to lose interest and start simping for someone else bc you saw how quickly he shifted from kiyoko to you and you don’t want to get attached just in case he shifts again

and you are both really good friends so now noya has almost given up on trying to woo you as he’s realised that he might be too far in the friendzone

so you’re just out together at the park as friends and you’re on your phone while noya just stares at the sunset, appreciating your presence 

you see ^that^ tiktok on your fyp but you’re single so you try it out on noya

‘what would you do if i got turned into a zombie?’

noya didn’t even bother to ask about the motives of your question and instead he just replied, ‘i’d find a cure and turn you back into yourself!’ like the little optimist he is

you felt a light blush spread across your cheeks and noya clearly noticed it too bc his lips curled into a bright, smug grin 

so you felt the need to respond rather harshly to make sure he knew that you weren’t falling for him or anything despite the fact, you were falling for him ‘easier said than done, genius. what did you get on your last chemistry test again?-oh and your biology one too?’

nishinoya’s bottom lips jutted out to form a pout, ‘well, in that case, i’d make a cage and trap you inside. then i’d go save the world and shit by killing all the other zombies and once society starts rebuilding itself, i’ll wait until one of the science-y dudes makes a cure then i’d come back to your cage and give it to you.’

honestly, you couldn’t even argue with him 

if anyone was gonna save the world from zombies, it’d be noya 

‘anyway, what would you do if i became a zombie, (y/n)?’ 

you paused for a second, tapping your chin with your index finger while thinking then said, ‘i don’t think i could make a cure so i guess i’d just handcuff myself to you so i don’t lose you then figure something out.’

noya literally passed away - with happiness ofc

he was already smiling but now his smile was 10x brighter

‘(Y/N)! SERIOUSLY?! YOU’D DO THAT FOR ME?! WHY?!’ he basically screamed, surprised that you’d say something so sweet since ngl he was really expecting you to say that you’d drop-kick him into the sun, in that situation 

you nodded, ‘yeah, of course. y’know, i’d hate to lose you, noya - even if you are trying to eat my brain.’

a small gasp escaped your mouth as noya flung both of his arms around you and wailed, ‘I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, (Y/N)!!’

you never really thought that your first time telling nishinoya that you love him would be before y’all were dating bc of a zombie hypothetical but..you did it anyway :)))

oh and needless to say, you went on your first date the following day

Ryūnosuke Tanaka

you sit in his lap and watch tiktoks while he peers over your shoulder so he saw the video too lol

he was like ‘pfft. geez why is that guy crying over something like that? pussy alert.’

but then, knowing that he saw the video, you hummed, ‘same!’ then turned your body to face his and caress his cheek, ‘there’s no way i’d be able to leave you, baby. so your zombie-self can have fun dealing with my ass for the rest of your undead life.’

dude he was in tears-

in his own words, pussy alert 

‘you’d be doing me a favour, babe.’ he said shakily, trying his best to hide the fact he was on the verge of bawling his eyes out 

also, you’re not allowed to leave his lap until the sunrises now

he loves you too much to let you go - even to bathroom or kitchen

you’ll have to pry your hips out of his firm grip so good luck with that 

[allaboutthebooz]

Still Learning Pt. Three

Summary: After having everything stolen from her, the reader meets Bucky and they form a relationship, that works for the both of them. She needs money and he needs the company. There are rules that need to be followed. What will happen when the rules are broken?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, drinking

A/N: Sorry this has taken so long. Just when I find a groove, it gets knocked off course. But it's finally here and I hope you all enjoy.

After getting your drinks, Bucky decides to get a little invasive. “So, how come you are here by yourself?”

Y/N lets out a small laugh. “I’m not. My friends decided they would rather dance than sit with me while I wallow.” She juts a thumb behind her, point to the small dance floor. Bucky looks past her to see a few people dancing. Most were couples dancing a little too inappropriately, but there were two women dancing together, and he assumes they’re Y/N’s friends.

Turning his gaze back to his company, he gives her a quick look over. Her jean jacket covering her upper body, but he notices her dress. The soft silk material, covered in a combination of blue, red, and orange, clinging to what curves her can see. Her hair down, but half was pulled back into a braid of some sort.

He looks at her face. Not noticing the look behind her eyes, until now. He should have been able to tell that she wasn’t happy. He’d seen the same look on his face, often when he’d look in the mirror. The mask she wore, similar to his.

“Wallow?” He asks.

She nods. “Yeah, I haven’t had the best luck lately.”

“Want to tell me about it? Maybe talking to a stranger will help.”

She shakes her head and huffs. “I doubt it. I’m in deep shit and have no clue what will happen.”

“Maybe I can help?”

She looks at Bucky, silent. He can see her debating what to say.

You’re not sure how long you spent staring at the man next to you. The man who wanted to know what kind of trouble you were in, after only knowing his name for thirty minutes. Looking down at the glass in your hand, you bring it to your lips and take a long sip from it.

“Fuck it. Why not tell it to you. Not like you’ll be able to find me again.” Looking back at Bucky, you see his jaw clench just slightly.

“You never know.” Is all he says. His voice gruff.

You open your mouth to start your story, when you feel two bodies press close to you. Looking to your right, you see Lexie and Deanna standing there. Both focused on Bucky.

“You okay?” Dee asks, her mama bear side starting to show.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” You feel Lexie grab a strand of your hair at its end. “Sorry we’ve been ignoring you.”

“No, it’s alright. I was actually thinking of heading home. I’m pretty tired.”

Both girls groan. “You’re supposed to be having fun.” Dee pushes.

You look over at Bucky, giving him a quick smile before turning back to your friends. “You know that’s impossible right now. I can’t focus on having fun when I’m about to lose my apartment. I’m gonna get home so I can get some sleep. I have to edit some photos and have them turned in tomorrow.”

Deanna opens her mouth to respond, but Lex puts a hand on her shoulder. “If that’s what you want to do, that’s fine. We know you have a lot going on right now. We just thought getting you out of the house would help.”

“And I appreciate it, but once everything if normal again, then I can start having fun.”

“Well, we can go. Let’s settle our tab.” Lexie says.

“No, you two stay. You’re actually enjoying yourselves. Don’t let me ruin your fun.”

“Are you sure?” Deanna asks. “We don’t mind.”

“Yeah, stay. I’ll get a cab.” You start to stand. Hugging the girls, they head back to the dance floor. You turn back to Bucky. “It was nice to meet you.”

You notice the panic slightly raise in his face. “Wait. I’ll go with you.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Back to my place? I don’t think that’s such a great idea.”

“No, not there. Why don’t we just walk around for a bit. Maybe see if there are any diners open or something.” He suggests.

You find yourself staring at him again. Your eyes rake over him. His dark hair, his blue eyes. His leather jacket and Henley shirt clinging to his chest. His thick thighs clad in dark blue jeans. Were you going to let this man keep you company? Were you going to open up to him? You probably won’t see him again after tonight and he seems like a nice guy. There was something familiar about him and you weren’t sure that you were ready to say goodbye.

“Okay. But just for a little while I really should get home and edit those photos.”

Bucky smiles wide and follows you out of the bar.

“I know a place that’s open all night. They have great food.” You suggest.

“Lead the way.”

You move down the sidewalk, Bucky beside you with his hands shoved in his jean pockets.

“So, you’re a photographer?” He asks.

“I am. Mostly fashion right now.”

“That’s cool. Anything I might have seen?”

You laugh. “Not unless you read Vogue.”

“No, I can’t say that I have. I really haven’t had time to do a ton of reading. My work keeps me busy.”

“Oh yeah? What do you do?” You ask, looking him over.

He stares at you like you should know who he is and what he does. “Uh I guess you could say that I work with the military.”

“Doing what?”

“Linguistics.”

You make an impressed face. “Sounds interesting.

It’s Bucky’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, I guess it can be.”

You both walk in silence for a while. You can feel Bucky’s urge to finish your conversation that was interrupted.

“You’re still wondering why I wasn’t wanting to stay and have fun, aren’t you? I can feel your curiosity growing.” You smirk at him.

He gives you a shy smile. “Yeah, I am. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I don’t want you to think I’m overstepping.”

You look up at the night sky. The stars barely visible beyond the city lights. Sighing you say, “A month ago, my ex-boyfriend stole every single penny I had to my name. He destroyed my credit. He opened a couple of credit cards in my name and a loan from a bank in my name and never paid them. He disappeared and I haven’t heard from him. The cops haven’t bothered to find him. So I have no money, except what little cash I managed to withdraw before it all happened.”

Bucky stops walking, making you stop too. “Are you shitting me?”

You laugh. “I wish I was.”

“Son of a bitch.” He says, before continuing his stride.”

“Yeah.” You both walk a bit further before you stop in front of a wall full of windows. “This is it.”

He opens the door, allowing you to step inside first as he follows.

After settling into a booth by the windows, you both spend the rest of the night talking. He asked a few more questions and you explained to him that you were pretty much out of a job and would soon lose your home if you didn’t make enough money to pay your rent.

Eventually, you convinced him to move onto a different subject. Before you knew it, the sun was starting to peak from behind the other buildings. When a ray of light blinds you, you squint and look out the window.

“Oh shit. We literally talked all night.”

“I guess we did. I’m sorry. I know you needed to get home.” Bucky apologizes.

“You know what? I’m not even upset. This was way more fun than sitting at my desk in an empty apartment that won’t be mine for long.”

You start to gather your things as Bucky lays a few bills on the table. You both step outside, pulling jackets on. You look at Bucky and wonder what to do next.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye.” You say.

“It doesn’t have to be. I’d like to see you again.”

You bite your bottom lip. “I don’t know. I’d like to see you again, but my life is such a mess right now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I’d like to help you.”

“How can you do that? You got a ton of money laying around or something?”

“Or something. Why don’t we do this again tonight? I can explain everything then.”

“I don’t know, Bucky.”

“How about this? I’m going to come back here to have more of those delicious pancakes. You can join me and let me help you. I’ll let you decide. I’ll be here at 7. If you show, we’ll talk. If you don’t, I’ll leave you alone.”

He gently leans in and kisses your cheek.

“I hope I see you later.” He hails a cab and opens the door for you, closing it once you’re settled in the backseat and walking the opposite way down the sidewalk.

‘What the hell was that?’ You think.

The taxi dropped you off in front of your building. You hand the driver some cash, telling him to keep the change. The whole drive home, you kept thinking about what he meant by wanting to help you. Did he have a job for you? Did he want you to take some headshots for him? You didn’t know much about him, except that he worked with the military, and he didn’t seem like he was the model or actor type, so headshots were out of the question.

You walked up the stairs to your apartment still pondering why Bucky wanted to help you and how he planned to do it. You get to your floor and move down the hallway, your apartment at the very end with your door facing towards you. You’re almost in front of it when you notice an envelope taped to your door. You peel it off, curious, and stick your key in the door to unlock it.

Stepping through the entrance, you lay your purse on the counter in the kitchen, peel your jean jacket off, and then your shoes. Once you’re somewhat settled, you peel open the letter and pull the piece of paper out of its snug exterior.

‘Y/N,

I hoped you would be home when I came by. I didn't want to do this how it's been done, but I don't have a choice.

I know how tough things have been for you the last month and I've done everything to try and help. You've been a perfect resident. Always paid your rent on time. You've always been nice to everyone here. However, unless you pay your rent by the end of the week, I'm afraid that you will be forced to move out.

I've tried talking to Tom to get him to understand your situation and though he is sympathetic, he can't pay the mortgage for the building without your portion of the rent.

I'm sorry there's nothing more that I can do for you.

I would hate to see you go, but I do not have a choice.

Let me know as soon as you can, if you are able to pay your rent and we can work something out.

Again, I'm sorry.

David’

Sign you crumble the paper into a ball and let it drop onto the counter.

‘Perfect.’ You think. After having a great night, you should have known the bliss wouldn't last for long.

You wanted to cry, but suddenly felt too exhausted. You decide to get a few hours of sleep, before trying to work or do anything else.

Peeling your silky dress from your body as you move towards your bed, you unhook your bra, tossing it aside, and finally collapse onto your mattress. You barely pull the covers over your mostly naked torso before you fall asleep. Dreaming of the blue-eyed man you had just spend your evening with.

TAGS:

Still Learning- @chipilerendi @vicmc624

Marvel- @shreddedparchment

Forevers- @jamielea81 @dnnwnchstr22 @also-fangirlinsweden

*If you would like to added to the tag list, please send me an ask. I am able to keep up with them better that way!

[buckyownsmylife]

Not about angels (Part II) - Sebastian Stan smut

The one where Seb is the devil, you’re both reunited in hell and he’s very happy to get reacquainted with your body.

Warnings: anal sex, devil!Seb, oral sex (f) and I honestly can’t think of anything else

A/N: this is the smutty follow-up to this fic, but I guess it can be read as a pwp one-shot. Day 13 of kinktober, my prompts were anal sex and “you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen” and this came out a lot more fluffy than intended. Again, unrevised. Lmk if you want to beta for me (or become my friend, I also need one of those).

Seb’s P.O.V.

She giggled just before I dropped her on the bed of my - well, now our - bedroom. “You’re the one who made me horny in the first place. So now it’s your responsibility to help me deal with it.” She bit her lip, pretending to think about it.

“Although I’m not 100% convinced of the veracity of your statement, I am completely and utterly prepared to ‘deal with it’, so come here at once!” Laughing, I let my pants drop on the floor before crawling up to her in bed. She looked just as eager as I was, and I was desperate to get my hands on her again.

“I missed you so much, darling…” I whispered against her skin as I kissed her everywhere I could. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Her sweet little giggle echoed off the walls of our bedroom again.

“Never thought I’d be saying this… but I’m glad I died, too.” Growling, I lightly bit her shoulder to warn her about her words, but it only made her giggle more. It made my insides warm and I wanted nothing more than to kiss her all over, remind her that she was mine and she’d only be mine until the end of time. 

“I love you,” I reminded her, to which she opened the most beautiful smile, her hands coming up to cradle my face as her bright eyes read into my very essence. How could a human hold such power over the devil, I’d never understand, but regardless, I’d always be thankful for finding her.

“I love you too, Sebastian,” she whispered, prompting me to lean over and capture her lips in another breathtaking kiss. As expected, she was out of breath when I finally separated our faces again, leaving her lips plump and slightly darker from my nibbles.

Oh, she was magnificent. And she was all mine.

Slowly, I inched the edge of her dress so it’d uncover her perfect skin, so smooth to the touch, first revealing her incredible thighs, her panties-clad mouthwatering pussy, her soft, kissable stomach until her breasts came into view and I could pull it away completely.

“Tell me, how did I get so lucky?” She just giggled in response, but it was cut short by my lips wrapping around one of her nipples, while I tugged on the other. Immediately, her surprised gasp was replaced by satisfied moans and I felt my head spin just by the way those sweet little sounds took over the bedroom. 

No one really should have this much power over the devil, but there wasn’t anything left to do now. I’d burn the whole world down if I had to learn how to live without her again. She’d be mine forever.

As I softly sucked marks on her breasts, one of my hands caressed its way up her body until it found a home around her neck, just like I’d taught her to enjoy. Just a tiny squeeze and she was a mess, her legs automatically opening wider, her hips jutting up in an effort to gather any sort of friction in the place where she was dripping already. 

It was impossible not to smirk against her skin at the effect I had on her, but I forced myself to ignore her soft pleas as I continued to mark my path down her body, taking all the time in the world to get reacquainted with her under these new conditions.

We did have all the time in the world, after all. However, it seemed like Y/N wasn’t completely in agreement with my plans, by the way she continued to thrash around the bed, trying to urge me to speed my movements. 

“Eager, baby?” I had to tease, to which she pouted, making me groan at the sight of her delicious bottom lip sticking out, begging to be sucked. I entertained my own desires for a second, biting down on it when I was done, before resuming my previous position. “Now let me taste you again, darling. You know, I think I forgot what you taste like.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I wanted to roll my eyes at his antics, but then his warm tongue licked a line up my pussy and I was reduced to a puddle of my own desires. “Hmm… Just as sweet as I remembered, my love.”

I gasped as he delved in with even more fervor, sticking his tongue as far as it could go inside my hole, and my hips thrusted up on their own accord. “You… You ate me out just this morning, before you went to wor… before you came here.”

Sebastian hummed against my clit that he was now sucking, the vibrations travelling across my body and making me cry out. “Time works differently around here. Besides, any minute apart from you feels like a century.”

One of his hands made its way up my body to play with my erect nipples, before pulling it roughly. He knew how much I appreciated that little bite of pain. “Yo-you’re very… dramatic,” I accused, still trying to control my reactions as he slurped me eagerly. This time, he didn’t pay me any attention, too occupied with the exploration of my pussy with two of his fingers.

He had me cumming on his mouth within seconds.

“You’re too good at this,” I joked after I was able to breathe again, and he only smirked against the shoulder that he now kissed as he waited for me to come back to him. “Can I have you inside of me now?”

The groan he released at my words was anything but human - at least now it made sense, I supposed. “You little minx. You drive me crazy, do you know that?” I could only laugh, finding the energy to roll on my stomach before rising to my hands and knees, presenting myself to him. 

“How do you want to take me?” I teased, looking over my shoulder to meet his darkened eyes that spoke of dangerous plans for me and my body. His gaze temporarily dropped to my ass, and I knew just what he wanted.

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned, but we shared the same desires, as always. Perhaps that’s why we were, one way or another, soulmates.

“You can have that too, Seb. I’m all yours. My whole body is yours to take.” He threw himself over me to find my lips again, and after a kiss that took my breath away, he leaned back while licking his lips.

“Well, let’s get you prepared, then.” The following minutes was a mess of tongue and fingers exploring my puckered hole, and all I seemed to be able to do was whine and fuck myself against whatever Sebastian was using to stretch and lubricate me enough to welcome his cock inside of me. 

Some sort of lube came into play suddenly, I didn’t know where it’d come from or how Seb managed to get it without me noticing it, but after that, it all became even easier and more pleasurable. We’d done this before, only once, and he’d been asking me for it for ages, but I was always too lazy to handle the preparation or too eager to have him inside of me to wait for it, but this time, everything seemed to fall into place.

Sebastian’s P.O.V.

Before long, I’d managed to use three fingers to thrust into her, and by the way she was moving against them, it was clear that she was more than ready to welcome my cock inside of her. So after pouring more lube all over my member, I started to push it inside of her hole, fascinated by the sight of her incredible ass stretching to accommodate my cock.

When I finally managed to fit all of myself inside of her, I paused to memorize the sight before me. Her, on her knees, having fallen down to her forearms as she trembled with pleasure underneath me, her gorgeous body on display for me to do as I pleased with it.

There was not a day when I wouldn’t thank whoever was listening for the trust she deposited in me. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I recognized, and she moaned out loud in response, prompting me to bury two fingers inside of her delicious pussy once more, desperate to hear her melodious symphony again.

“Sing for me, darling,” I begged, finally starting to thrust in and out of her tight channel, a choked moan escaping my lips as I carefully fucked her ass while fingering her. She did not disappoint - she could never disappoint me -, thrusting back against me while I searched for that spot that made her lose control, and pressed down on it when I managed to find it. 

She screamed my name as I rode her orgasm, anxious to meet my own release. Pressing my nails on her ass, I used my newfound grip to push her to me, knowing I’d leave bruises behind and she’d loved me for it.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in your ass, my love,” I warned, throwing my head back and closing my eyes as I felt the fire in the pit of my stomach take over me, losing control of my hips for a moment.

“I think it’s safe to say we’re as great at this in hell as we were back on Earth.” Snorting, I couldn’t believe the woman I’d chosen to spend the rest of eternity with. I’d clearly made the right choice.

[officialscaramouche]

Companions

pairing: Chongyun x Xingqiu

summary: Chongyun finally takes on the demon, but how is Xingqiu going back home?

warnings: none

word count: 2,133

also posted on ao3!

notes: Wow! Thank you to those of you that read this from the very beginning! There are a LOT of themes that finalized in the last few chapters (such as character development, thoughts that changed, etc.) and I hope yall can find them all! The story isn't over yet, though! I've started writing two pieces that relate to this story and which ever gets the most votes will get posted!

There's an epilogue where older Chongyun meets with Xingqiu in Qingce and there's also a full translation of Xingqiu's book! Comment which one you want to read next!

Also, I started another future fic where this time, Chongyun meets older Xingqiu! Keep an eye out for it!

Ch. 5 of 5 < prev |

“What do you think clouds feel like?”

Xingqiu looked up at the large fluffy cloud that passed through the sun. He smiled, twiddling his thumbs on his tummy. “Like pillows?”

“Or marshmallows. But wet. Wet marshmallows.”

Xingqiu covered his laugh with a fist, sitting up on his elbows to look at the young boy next to him. Chongyun had snuck out of meditation practice and picked up Xingqiu through his bedroom window. Now, they found themselves a nice hiding spot under a tree by the river next to Yujin Terrace. “Chongyun, I had the weirdest dream just now.”

“You were sleeping?”

“I guess. You were older, much older. And I was older, but I was in the dream the way I am now. Seventeen.”

“What kinda things did we do? Were we hanging out?”

“We went on a crazy adventure! And you were so cold to me!”

Chongyun jumped up and dug claws into Xingqiu’s sides. “It’s the cryo in me! Mwahahaha!”

Xingqiu involuntarily laughed, the tickle bursting out of him. He kicked and kicked, trying to push the other off but Chongyun, having trained in battle more than him, was stronger. “Get-- haha! Get off of me!”

Chongyun pinned the scholar by the wrists and hovered over him. “Make me.”

Xingqiu blushed and rolled his eyes, a playful smirk on his lips. “Ew, are you flirting with me?”

Chongyun flushed red and flew off of the boy, sitting straight with his hands shoved into his lap, his eyes looking out at the distance. “No. Why would I be?”

Xingqiu sat up with his mouth hanging open, a little irritated that he got off of him. “Are you dense!”

“I thought you wanted me to get off!”

“Well, yeah! But--”

“But what! You liked it, or what?!”

“W-Well, yeah!!”

Chongyun raised his eyebrows and faced Xingqiu who stared at him with a flushed face. The look in his eyes was daring, but scared. Afraid that Chongyun was going to deny him right there. But after having such a wild dream, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity the way he had before. “What are you saying…?”

Xingqiu shut his eyes tightly and balled his fists into his lap. “I’m saying...I’m saying I like yo--”

Xingqiu gasped, his heart jumping out of his chest. The moon was still in the sky but was ready to set in the next few hours. He gripped the fabric over his heart and panted, sweat rolling down his temple. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and looked around for Chongyun but he was nowhere to be found.

He sat up and peered over the shrubs to look at the incense and food, but found Chongyun sitting there with a large brown figure. He rubbed his eyes, blurry from sleep, and watched as the exorcist rubbed at the skin of the figure there. He scrambled to his feet, squirming through the shrubs and tentatively walked over, playing with his fingers nervously. The closer he got, the clearer the figure became. It’s ugly, horrifying face contorted in its sleep. Chongyun swiped his hand through the bowl from early, scooping a paste from within, and rubbed it on the demon’s arm. “W-What...is this the...the d-demon?”

Chongyun placed a dirty finger to his lips and shushed the boy, waving him over. He extended a hand. “The drawing, please,” he whispered, continuing to rub the demon as it slept.

“It’s sleeping…so peacefully.”

“Like you were,” Chongyun chuckled. “Now, please. The drawing.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m tending to its wounds. It's in so much pain.”

Xingqiu looked at the leaf where the skewers were and at the ash the incense burned off. Their plan had worked. But looking at the demon up close, it didn’t feel like a demon at all. He didn’t feel any evil sense emanating off of it. “Are you gonna try the thing?”

“Yes. Drinking it should be fine. I only freeze them to help keep me cool, but the night is chilly enough.”

Xingqiu filled the bowl with water and Chongyun crushed up the flower into the bowl. He mixed it with his finger before placing the bowl to his lips and gulping down the drink. With a refreshing “ahhh,” Chongyun wiped his hands on his pants and unfolded the drawing. He placed the paper between his forefinger and his middle finger, bringing his hands together. Xingqiu watched as the paper began to twitch, unfurling until it was perfectly straight. The ink of the drawing flickered a bright blue for a moment, but the paper began to fall again. Chongyun furrowed his brows in frustration, concerned that the drink didn’t work. If he can’t get this talisman to work, then all of this would have been for nothing. Xingqiu bit his lip and watched as the demon rolled over, grunting in its sleep. He bounced nervously, the meditation not working.

“Ah, ah, Chongyun hurry up!” Xingqiu eyed the paper and the demon as it continued to toss and turn. “I-It’ll wake up!”

Chongyun pressed his palms together firmer, clenching his teeth uncomfortably as he focused on channeling his energy into the paper. He began to sweat, his yin energy being stirred too much. His arms began to tremble as he loses control of the flow of energy, but Xingqiu presses himself into Chongyun’s back and gathers cool water at either of Chongyun’s ears. The sound of the sloshing and the coolness of the water steadied his mind. Through the muddle of the water, he could hear Xingqiu’s soothing voice. “Please come back when you’ve finished your journey, okay? I have something I want to tell you.”

Xingqiu shut his eyes and muttered quiet please’s under his breath, hoping that Chongyun can muster the strength with his help. The paper fluttered loudly, with the help of no wind. A bright light illuminated behind Xingqiu’s eyelids and he opened to find the ink shining a luminous blue. It floated up, hovering over Chongyun’s aura. The exorcist’s hair stood on ends, and his skin was hot to the touch. Chongyun stood, and Xingqiu pulled away. The demon gasped, startled awake and groaned in fear. But Chongyun formed a hexagonal bagua floor beneath their feet and adjusted it’s rotation to place the demon atop the earth trigram. Now seemingly incapable of moving, Chongyun threw the guidance talisman with two fingers, sending it flying towards the demon. It latched itself to the demon’s forehead and it fell backwards, laying motionless while the talisman worked its magic.

After a few moments, the demon began to dissipate with a hiss, the talisman burning into its skull. Chongyun stood with his arms folded over each other to hold the floor until it completely left for the afterlife. He fell to his knees, catchim himself with a hand, the other clutching his chest. Xingqiu jumped up and down in excitement. “Holy crap! That was so cool! Was that the baguazhang energy map?! I’d seen you play with a small one, but that was huge!!”

Chongyun coughed, his chest heaving.

“The lines were steaming with yin energy!! The yin and yang symbol was moving! Oh goodness, you’re pale! Water! Here drink water!!”

Xingqiu pushed in the drawer and picked up the rag on the counter. He wiped it down once more before tossing it over his shoulder and picking up a box. He trudged up the stairs, box in hand, and turned the corner to the left. He walked down the hall and pushed the door open with his hip, dropping the box to the side. “Where did you want these?”

Chongyun snapped the blanket, dust poofing off and into the air. “Shit!” Chongyun covered his nose with the inside of his elbow and sneezed. “What is it? Are those the old rugs?”

Xingqiu nodded and sneezed, walking over to the window and forced it open. “I haven’t gotten the ones upstairs, though. These are all the downstairs rugs.”

Chongyun picked up the box and walked out of the room. “I’ll put them in the storage closet for now. I gotta wash them later.” Peeking back into the room, Chongyun watched Xingqiu shut the box in front of him.

It was the morning after the exorcise and Chongyun and Xingqiu were cleaning up the estate. Xingqiu worked on the downstairs, dusting and washing and throwing while Chongyun worked on the upstairs. When they got there, they took a nap at the front door, the exorcist collapsing from exhaustion. He had never used that much energy before, but if Xingqiu hadn’t given him the idea of using qingxin flowers to overflow with energy, the demon would’ve gotten away.

“What are you gonna do if you’re stuck here?” Chongyun asked, filling a newly washed glass with water from the tap.

“I’d say I’d stick around with you, but you already have me I guess. I could refound the Guhua Clan, maybe?”

Chongyun laughed into his cup. “There’s nobody to tell you no anymore,” he joked, putting the cup in the sink. “That diary tell you anything?”

Xingqiu put his hands on his hips. “No, I still can’t read a lot of it. We’d have to decode it.”

Chongyun patted the boy’s shoulder and jutted a thumb to the backyard. “Let’s work on the backyard. Afterwards we can take a look at it, hm?”

Xingqiu dusted his hands and set off for the back. This was going to be his first time in their meditation circle, it was pretty exciting. Without any training needing to be done or strict parents to tell him no, Xingqiu would be able to actually stand on the stone bagua floor. “You said once that your backyard is the strongest spiritual point in Teyvat right?”

Chongyun grabbed the screen door and slid it open, letting Xingqiu go first. “Yeah, it’s why my ancestors took residence here. I think this is where the original ley line was. When I first stepped foot in here, it made me dizzy so be careful.”

Xingqiu flicked his hair back and let out a sarcastic laugh. “Ha! I’m stronger than I look, Chongyun. Don’t be fooled.” Xingqiu looked at all the dead leaves and stagnant puddles that ruined the aesthetic of the place. “Maybe we should start with the leaves, huh?”

Xingiu felt dizzy, just like Chongyun said he would. He reached back to hold onto the exorcist, but Chongyun was not there. He staggered back at the lack of support, and found himself face to face with a door. The same red door of their secret hangout spot. He flung himself around and smelled the familiar scent of delicious food, the constant murmuring of chatter, and the birds tweeting above. He looked at his clothing, freshly washed and repaired. The book missing.

“What are you doing?” Chongyun asked.

The privilege to be bored was something I took for granted. I had realized that I had done not a single thing, not been helpful with the exception for entertainment. Which, in hindsight, I believe is what kept us together for so long. I am intolerable and quite loathsome, but my dearest sees through me and the facade and brings me along anyhow. Quiet moments like these will forever warm my heart in memories. We are not sharing a single activity, yet we are bonded by the coexistence. The rays of the sun stunk like poorly washed laundry and our hair clumped together from the bodily oils but it is fun to reminisce and I enjoy being sullied every now and then. I awoke to its presence, horrifying and ugly. But...what a strange man, indeed, that can place a hand atop the you hun ye gui that has tormented his very existence. ‘It sleeps,’ I whisper. I creep forward, trembling down to my toes. ‘Peacefully,’ he says. ‘Like you.’

Like me? He teases me. If I could meditate instead of sleep, I would. The way he shows kindness to such a foul beast makes me swoon. That’s why he puts up with me.

We all have our own inner demons. Only we can conquer them. It helps to have friends to support you, but in turn, you must support them. I was a lost mind, chasing after lofty dreams that I am designed to not overcome, but I can still live them in writing. When I write, or when I read, I am taken elsewhere. I am no longer a hermit, disowned by my own family, but I am a knight. I am a samurai. I am an adventurer. And sometimes, the antagonist is a dragon, a ronin, or a hilichurl. But sometimes, the antagonist is yourself. And only you, the hero, can conquer the villain. But it doesn’t hurt to have a companion along the way.

-- Xingqiu

[mopeytropey]

Author’s note: This moodboard for chapter 3 was not a shameless excuse to post Lincoln glistening and shirtless ... OR WAS IT? 

a beer buds series: chapter 3

(available below & posted on AO3 here)

Timeline: this takes place during chapter 3 of 'apu' after Clarke has gone running with Lexa but before game night at Lexa + Costia's apartment

Beer: Whirlpool NEW ENGLAND PALE ALE

Soft and citrusy, Whirlpool is Night Shift's flagship New England pale ale. Pours hazy blonde with a nose of ripe peach and grapefruit. Sips juicy, fruity, and crisp, with minimal bitterness and big clementine notes. A bright, vibrant beer that’s wonderfully drinkable and remarkably refreshing.

ABV 4.5%

Whirlpool: Night Shift (Everett, MA) Lexa slows at the base of an incline, bracing her weight with her hands on her kneecaps while catching her breath. Lincoln extends his run by a few extra strides, resting his torso against the black metal railing of an overlook that juts above the harbor. They stand just six feet apart, regulating their breathing, while pedestrians, cyclists, and young children in strollers filter past. Although the sun wanes, arching towards the water, its heat has soaked Lexa’s shirt and shorts so that the material sticks to her skin in several places.

“Bit more intense than your last run?” Lincoln asks when he circles back to stand beside her.

Lexa stands to her full height, using the bottom of her shirt to wipe sweat from her face. “What do you mean?”

“Octavia tells me you managed to coerce Clarke into running with you the other day. Somehow I can’t imagine there were any interval sprints in that particular course.”

That jolt of nerves—of which she is now regretfully quite familiar—at the mention of Clarke has Lexa shrugging off a laugh and heading for the shade of the Memorial Bridge overpass. Her mind betrays her in the worst way as visions of Clarke in running gear, jogging beside her and cracking jokes, resurface yet again. She would kill for some ice cold water.

Either to drink or dump over her head.

She walks with her hands folded atop her head, triceps stretching pleasantly as she leans against the bridge piling. The cold stone presses into her skin through the material of her shirt, and Lexa focuses on the sensation. Lincoln follows her with an expectant smile.

“Clarke can be coerced by nothing, I assure you. She was the one who asked to come with me.” Lexa kicks lightly at Lincoln’s chiseled calf muscle. “Anyway, I sort of lost my running partner when he started getting laid, didn’t I?”  

“Hey, whoa, whoa,” Lincoln laughs, defensively holding up his palms towards Lexa. “You have not lost me.”

“Well, you’re certainly not as available.”

“Guilty,” Lincoln shrugs. “But, come on, you know how it is. You remember.”

She does remember. Lovedrunk and saturated by lust and desire—that overconsumption of physical touch that leaves no room for anything or anyone else. She remembers those first few reclusive weeks with Costia, both of them cancelling plans and shutting out the world.

It feels like someone else’s memories. A fading mirage from another life.

Lexa nods, conceding with a short exhale. “Yeah, sure. Of course.”

She stands to stretch her limbs and suddenly feels like she could run another ten miles.

“Let’s grab a beer,” Lincoln suggests, and Lexa is grateful for the change in subject.

“What—now? Where would we go? I’m disgusting,” she says, plucking her shirt from where it sticks to the skin of her stomach.

Lincoln bobs his head up the sidewalk, and Lexa’s stomach clenches to see the bright white siding of Dockside. “Octavia’s working. Let’s go bother her.”

“I need to shower,” Lexa stalls.

“Nah, come on.” Lincoln strongarms her, quite literally, by wrapping his arm around her shoulders and walking farther beneath the shadowed overpass. “The girls won’t care. We’ll sit outside.”

“Linc, I—“

“Nope, no arguments. Anyway, it’s Wednesday so Clarke is probably there too. Don’t you want to see your new best friend?”

Yes. All of the time. She is both the best and worst thing in my life at the moment. It is exceedingly problematic.

Lexa admits to none of this and instead allows herself to be escorted down the short path towards Dockside’s sunny patio. She angles her head so that she can see Lincoln’s face of self-satisfaction and scowls at his ridiculous smile.

:::

“You might not want to hug me, I’m incredibly sweaty right now.”

“Like that’s gonna stop me,” Octavia says, practically jumping into Lincoln’s embrace and landing a soft kiss against his mouth.

It’s brief and chaste, but Lexa nevertheless averts her eyes and lets her gaze fall across the boats in the harbor. They’ve approached the bar from its rear side, closer to the delivery hatch, crunching through the gravel lot that separates Dockside from the bridge.

“You guys are staying for a drink, right?”

Lexa quickly wonders if she can still sneak away for a shower and meet up with Lincoln later now that he’s got Octavia in his arms. “Actually—“

“Oh, no, sorry,” Octavia smirks. “That wasn’t a question. You’re staying.”

Lexa fully surrenders after that, following Lincoln and Octavia towards the patio entrance with a short laugh. Things could be worse than having friends hellbent on spending time with her.

It is this misguided thought that precedes Lexa’s gaze landing on Clarke through the windows that line the water.

Oh no, things are actually the worst they could possibly be.

Clarke in a strapless, summery dress. Clarke with her hair twisted at the back of her head in a delicate bun so that Lexa’s vision narrows to the shape of her bare neck and shoulders. Clarke’s bright smile as she spins to collect empty glasses from a table of two college-aged girls.

Lexa’s smile drains from her face, and when Clarke looks up to see her on the patio, she feels it like a punch to her abdomen.

She had not been wearing this particularly offensive dress during Trikru’s delivery this morning, and Lexa wonders if she often goes home on her long Wednesdays to freshen up and change clothes between shifts.

Perhaps she has a favorite customer coming in later whom she wishes to impress. Perhaps Clarke has invited someone to come visit her specifically, to make the gruelling shift more bearable. Perhaps—

“Grab a seat out here.” Octavia’s direction interrupts Lexa’s inconsequential thoughts.

Perhaps Lexa should stop theorizing about Clarke and her goddamn dress and pull her life together.

“There’s this obnoxious group of guys at the bar who keep trying to flirt with Clarke about kayaking,” Octavia continues. “I have to go rescue her, but I’ll be back with drinks.”

She leaves them with a quick brush of her fingers down Lincoln’s chest, and Lexa struggles to push images from her mind of Clarke being hit on as she climbs onto a stool across from Lincoln. The patio hasn’t yet filled with a late afternoon crowd, and she and Lincoln enjoy a minute or two of relative quiet.

Lincoln hadn’t undersold the location: the views at Dockside are stunning. The harbor is aglow as boats slice its shimmering surface. Lexa allows herself to relax under a setting sun. The sound of gulls in chorus with a quiet, perpetual clanging of cars going over the bridge soothe her previously racing thoughts.

When Octavia returns, it is with glasses of ice water, two, dripping pints of beer, and Clarke at her heels.

Lexa’s relaxation vanishes in a blink.

“Night Shift. Whirlpool,” Octavia says by way of explanation of their beverages.

Greetings overlap as Octavia places coasters and pints on the table, but Clarke’s voice, most prominently, rings in Lexa’s ears. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I didn’t know you guys were coming by today.”

“Yeah, neither did I,” Lexa responds, avoiding Lincoln’s eye as he kicks her running shoe beneath the table.

She studiously ignores the swoop in her belly when she catches Clarke’s playful gaze instead.

“You two look properly gross and sweaty,” she comments with that unnecessarily striking smile of hers.

“Pretty sure our run was just a bit more intense than the casual little jaunt you and Lexa did the other day,” Lincoln teases.

“Hey!” Clarke reaches across Octavia for the sole purpose of pinching Lincoln’s bicep until he squirms. “I was remarkably athletic and agile, thank you very much.”

“Yes, we’re all incredibly proud of your fitness,” Octavia adds, condescendingly patting the top of Clarke’s head.

Clarke turns to Lexa. “Tell them!”

“Your endurance should be commended,” Lexa tells her entirely straight-faced.

“I hate all of you,” Clarke responds, narrowing her eyes at the three of them.

Lexa plucks at the strap of her damp tank top and represses a grin. The movement curbs Clarke’s teasing smile when she spies Lexa’s hand.

“How’s your hand?”

Lexa looks at the bandaging wrapping her right palm, almost as if she had forgotten it was there.

“Oh. It’s fine. It didn’t bother me at all during the rest of my deliveries. Stings a little now—probably from all of the gross sweat.”

Clarke rolls her eyes as Lincoln finishes a sip of beer and asks, “What happened?”

“I caught that sharp edge on the truck latch this morning.”

“Shit, I keep forgetting about having that looked at,” Lincoln says. “Did you let Indra know?”

“Yes. I had to fill out paperwork for the injury, and she said she’d have the latch replaced.”

“Why don’t you come inside and let me change the bandage.”

Having Clarke’s doting attention when it’s just the two of them is challenging. Withstanding her genuine care and concern in front of their friends is horrible.

“Oh, you don’t have to—it really doesn’t feel that bad, Clarke.”

“Hey listen, I’m not covering your deliveries tomorrow if that thing gets infected and gangrenous,” Lincoln tells her.

Lexa shoots him a look across the table for his ludicrous commentary.

“There’s no sense in you sitting there in pain just because you’re stubborn. I have all the supplies inside. Come on, it’ll just take a minute,” Clarke says and then hesitates as if she had briefly considered reaching out for Lexa’s upturned hand.

Lexa squeezes her fingers into a fist, sending a sharp, stinging pain against her injured palm. It does nothing to lessen the image of Clarke reaching out to her, but it curbs her own reckless impulses to run her fingers along the delicate curve of her shoulder just to see if—

She buries the thought and swallows hard.

“Okay,” she finally says, sliding from her stool so that she is stood beside Clarke. Eye-to-eye with Clarke’s stunning blue gaze. “Thanks.”

A tingling suspicion runs up the back of her neck as she trails behind Clarke off the patio. When they enter the cooler, darker interior of Dockside’s main room, Lexa turns to see Lincoln and Octavia huddled together and ignoring them completely.

Her paranoia—among other things—is really getting out of hand.

Clarke leads them behind the bar counter and through a swinging door into the kitchen. Lexa has never had such unfettered access to this section of Dockside, and she suddenly feels acutely aware of her damp hair and running clothes underneath the bright fluorescent lighting. Clarke grabs a plate of something from the salad line, says a quick thank you to the woman removing stems from baby spinach leaves, and they exit through another door into a dim hallway.

“My corner office with a view,” Clarke says upon approaching a heavy-looking wooden door. “Just kidding, there’s no windows in here.” She bangs open the door with her hip and steps inside, waiting for Lexa to follow her. “But, it’s where I keep the first aid kit.”

Lexa steps across the threshold with a timid smile. She’s never been inside Clarke’s office and already it feels like a line she should not have crossed. When Clarke had patched her hand that morning, they had stood in the drafty storage room with its high ceilings and spacious shelving lining the walls. It was a familiar space and vastly different atmosphere.

This room is cramped and dim. Intimate. Lexa feels out of her depth within seconds.

Clarke sets down her plate of food to fetch the box of medical supplies and is already stood too closely. Lexa thinks she can actually smell her shampoo because Clarke is just that much shorter and her head is angled to focus on removing the old bandaging from Lexa’s hand.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Clarke says.

Her words are felt in short puffs of breath against Lexa’s upturned wrist. Lexa’s other hand fiddles the hem of her running shorts while her breathing shallows and her heart hammers loudly in her ears.

She hopes the tremors building in her stomach don’t translate to her hands. Particularly while one of them is gently held by Clarke’s careful fingers.

“Your mom is a doctor so I can trust you know how to properly assess a wound, right?”

“God no,” Clarke laughs. “She would probably be horrified by my technique. Or lack thereof.”

“Great. I feel better already.”

Clarke looks up at her with a smile so utterly devastating, Lexa thinks she should have risked infection instead. “I’m pretty sure you’ll survive.”

She wishes she had a modicum of chill when it comes to Clarke, but truthfully, she does not.

Lexa tries to keep her eyes anywhere other than trailing down the slope of Clarke’s shoulder, which is unfairly close and appears soft and smooth under the low light. She skims over the minimal clutter of Clarke’s desk to stop herself from shamefully ogling a close friend doing her a favor.

There is an assortment of hodgepodge frames that hang on the dark wooden wall behind Clarke’s desk. She sees a picture of Clarke looking much younger with a boy around her age, arms wrapped around each other and stood in front of Dockside.

She hears herself asking, “Who’s that?” before she can silently advise herself to mind her business and get out of this room as quickly as possible.

“All set,” Clarke says, and then turns to face the wall behind her desk. “Who’s who?”

There’s finally some small distance between them, and Lexa breathes out slowly. She looks down to her hand, freshly wrapped in soft white gauze, and flexes it twice into a fist.

“Thanks.”

Clarke’s voice is as soft as she has ever heard it. “You’re welcome.”

For a beat, they hold a steady gaze. It passes quickly, but not before Lexa’s pulse accelerates and her palms begin to ache with nerves. She breaks eye contact first, as she often does. She can hear Clarke quietly exhale a second later because the room is remarkably compact, but also because Lexa has started to believe that her body is attuned to Clarke’s the more time they spend in the same place.

Or, she’s just being dramatic.

“The, uh, middle frame. The kid hugging you outside of the bar.”

“Oh! That’s Wells.” Clarke walks towards the frame and plucks it off the wall so that she can examine it more closely. “He’s one of my closest friends and the reason I get to play bar manager at this lovely establishment.”

That has Lexa’s attention instantly, and she forgets her nerves in favor of learning something new about Clarke. “Oh, really?”

Clarke often does this—unintentionally creating distractions from Lexa’s problematic internal narrative. She drops these little tidbits of information that snare Lexa’s curiosity. Each time, it becomes easier to just relax and enjoy Clarke’s company without overthinking the way the air condenses around them when they are stood too closely. Between that and her penchant for terrible jokes, it explains why Lexa has been able to maintain any semblance of friendship.

“Yeah, we became friends in high school—we were both into the arts, so total nerds—but he left for San Francisco right after graduation. His dad owned and ran this bar for ages, but when his memory got worse and he had to retire, Wells more or less inherited a business he never wanted to manage.”

“And he asked you to take it over,” Lexa supplies.

“Yeah, he sort of caught me at an opportune time when I had no idea what the hell I was doing with my life.” She replaces the picture to its nail on the wall, crosses her arms over her stomach, and exhales a humorless laugh.

Lexa raises her eyebrows and nods. “I can relate.”

“Right.” Clarke’s short laugh is the last lingering sound in the room.

The moment stretches, Clarke watching her as if trying to solve a riddle. Three rapid knocks at the open doorway interrupt the heavy silence, and Lexa is glad she isn’t forced to be the one to look away this time.

“Call for you on line one, Clarke.”

Lexa recognizes Mindy’s voice at her back and watches as Clarke smiles and nods. “Okay thanks, I’ll take it back here.”

“Okay, boss.”

Lexa can hear Mindy’s retreating footsteps a moment later and shifts on her feet to prepare her own exit.

“I should let you—”

“I’m just gonna—”

Words trip over one another until Clarke’s embarrassed smile matches her own.

“Thanks again for …” Lexa raises her right hand to show its fresh bandaging.

“Try not to be so clumsy next time, yeah?” Clarke sits at her desk with a smirk and Lexa takes one, measured step backwards.

“I’ll do my best,” she grins.

She thinks that if Clarke showed up to the delivery hatch wearing that dress next Wednesday, she may very well sever her entire hand from her body from sheer distraction.

“Okay, you should get out of here—Lincoln will think I’ve taken you hostage, and I’m very busy and important taking calls in my fancy office.”

Lexa laughs in response, backing her way towards the open doorway. If Octavia has stayed to keep Lincoln occupied at their table, there’s no way he’s even registered her prolonged absence. She mock salutes to Clarke once she is back in the hallway.

“I’m leaving, Madame President. Proceed with your executive responsibilities.”

Lexa exits the darkened hallway to the trailing sounds of Clarke’s laughter.

:::

[lavenderslotus]

Macarons and Chill

My first BakuCamie fic!! Hope you guys enjoy 🤗 Also cross posted on FF.N and AO3!

Summary: In which Bakugo and Camie try to make macarons in the midst of a global pandemic. 

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

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kick you out of my goddamn apartment, woman.” Bakugo snarls as he nearly rips the door off its hinges.

Camie merely blinks, clearly nonplussed by his tone. “Chill, Bakubae. I’m not even inside yet. Were you trying to hide your porn stash?”

“Can’t you see I’m in the fucking middle of something?!” Bakugo ignores her obvious jibe.

It’s only then Camie registers his uncharacteristically disheveled appearance. Donned in a black tank top that was smeared with flour and an orange Ground Zero apron that hung haphazardly on his hips, Bakugo looks positively dripping with annoyance. His already unkempt hair is matted in several different directions and if Camie didn't know any better, she would say that whatever he was attempting to bake was currently besting him.

Despite the atmosphere of the room, Camie pushes her way around Bakugo and flounces into the living room. “Ojamashimasu!” She sings as she kicks off her shoes in a hurry and practically runs into the kitchen.

“Fuck me, right?” Bakugo mutters as he bends down to fix her shoes so that they were perfectly aligned. She had been appearing more times on his doorstep than he cared for during this whole quarantine bullshit yet still didn’t have the decency to pick up after herself. “Oi, get out the hell out of my kitchen before you ruin shit!”

Camie turns around, already tugging on a bubblegum pink apron that Bakugo definitely does not keep around just for her. She juts out her lower lip. “I'm just trying to help out my favorite next-door neighbor.” She peers over at the bowl of whipped meringue on the kitchen counter. “Macarons, Bakubro? Do you have a death wish or something? Those are like, mad hard to bake, even for you!”

Bakugo resists the urge to thump her on the head. Instead, he settled for aggressively whisking the meringue once more, nearly ripping the appliance in two. “As if I’m going to be shown up by some shitty wannabe sandwiches. Tch.”

“Ehhhh? Is that so?” Camie tip-toes to place her chin on the shoulder that wasn’t vigorously moving with his stirring. Bakugo tries to ignore how close her cheek is to his, the soft plush nearly grazing him. “Well, no doubt they’ll be totally delish when you’re done! Anything I can do to help?”

Bakugo smirks, a cocky grin splitting his face. “Fuck yeah they will be. Go pick out the food coloring.” As Camie sashays away happily (“These are totes gonna be the prettiest macarons bae!”), he tries not to let his eyes linger. It’s like Camie intentionally picks clothes that loves her as much as she loves herself, because they cling to her figure like glue.

Their relationship was… Complicated. After they both graduated high school, her a year before him, Bakugo had no intention of keeping contact with anybody, save for maybe shitty hair. What was the point? He knew he’d see his former idiots of classmates and peers eventually. They all entered the same fucking industry; if anything, he had a feeling he’d them too often. It was only by chance that he and Camie wound up at the same agency, and it was even more of a twisted fate that he had happened to be assigned to live one door down from her. Which meant slowly but surely, Camie Utsushimi forcibly wedged her and her love for K-Pop into his life (and his apartment).

He didn’t know why she was so adamant on getting to know him. At first, he had thought it was just out of the pure convenience of living so close. He figured she would lay off after shutting her out a couple times. But goddamn, this woman was persistent. When she wanted something, she sure as hell knew how to get it. And he still didn’t know what it was she wanted from him. He never knew what she was thinking, for better or for worse.

“You know what’d be lit? If you had edible glitter.” Camie sighs wistfully as she lines up the bottles of food coloring. Bakugo grimaces at the array of pinks and purples but doesn’t say anything.

“What the fuck for?” Bakugo huffs as turned the bowl upside down. A smug expression flits his face when nothing falls out, a testament to the stiff peaks of the frosting.

Camie stares at him as if he had sprouted a tail. “Hell-oh! To decorate the macarons?! Jeez Bakubae, it’s like you have no eye for pretty things in life. No wonder you haven’t asked me out on a date yet.”

Then there was that. There always seemed to be something simmering between them, and it pissed Bakugo off to no end that he couldn’t figure out what the hell it was. Irritation? Sexual tension? Both? He didn’t know when she was serious or joking when she said shit like that.

Bakugo snorts to cover his inner turmoil and sticks his hand out. Camie wordlessly passes him a small bottle of food coloring. Without even looking at the color, his hand steadies as he carefully squeezes the gel into the meringue – bright pink, he discovers. Gross. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“You already know I’m not gonna. Am I not your type?” Camie twirls a strand of her fawn-colored hair around her finger pensively. “You’re gonna die a virgin if you don’t hop on the dating scene, you know. Such a waste of a handsome face.”

“Fuck you.” Bakugo snaps as he stirs to incorporate the color. His grip is tight around the rubber spatula. “As if you have it any better, hag. You should stop hanging around this apartment if you want to put your money where your mouth is.”

Camie sighs contemplatively. “The hero life really doesn’t allow any time for dating, huh? We sure have it rough.” She cracks her knuckles and grins. “Not that we can go on dates or anything during this quarantine. I’m lucky I have you to bother, Bakuboo!”

“Yeah, so lucky.” Bakugo mumbles sarcastically under his breath. “Gimme that bowl.”

“But like seriously, what is your type fam?” Camie asks. Bakugo dumps the dry ingredients and begins to macaronage. “For a while, I totally thought you and Deku were gonna get it on.”

“Fuck no. Weak ass Deku wouldn’t be able to handle me, I’d rock his shit.” Bakugo scoffs. Camie lets out a delighted peal of laughter at that. “Besides, I ain’t gay. Can’t speak for him though.”

Camie raises a brow. “You do know that Deku and Uraraka-san are like, def canon right?”

Bakugo hates how he knows what ‘canon’ means because of her. He grunts. “I don’t give a shit. Hand me that piping bag and a tray, quick.”

“Don’t be like that Bakubae,” Camie chides as she bends over to reach for the baking trays stashed inside his oven. He averts his eyes at the way she juts her hips and arches her back. “You noticed it too, right? All our peers are like, getting it on. I’m banking on Todomomo next.”

Bakugo works quickly to transfer the macaron batter into the piping bag. The bright pink is an eyesore and he frowns. “Like I said, I don’t give a shit.”

“You’re totes gonna care when your options dwindle down to no one.” Camie taps her nails against the counter. “And you’re already picky as it is.”

Bakugo scoffs again as he rips out a sheet of parchment paper. It tears through the air like a record scratch. “How would you know that? I haven’t said shit. For all you know, I could have a secret fetish.”

“Do you?” Camie’s voice heightens with interest. Bakugo glares at her, but the curiosity in her face doesn’t waver.

“No, you sicko. Even if I did, it’s not like I’d tell you.” Bakugo begins to pipe the macarons onto the parchment paper in earnest.

“Everyone has their kinks,” Camie sing-songs. She walks two fingers up Bakugo’s arm and he would smack her arm away if he wasn’t already preoccupied. If each macaron wasn’t exactly 1½-inches, he was going to lose his shit. “It’s only a matter of time until I find out yours, bae.”

Bakugo pipes the last macaron onto the tray and tosses the piping bag. It tumbles away on the counter, smearing pink meringue everywhere. Great. He pretends not to notice her hand still resting on his upper bicep and rolls his eyes. “Good luck with that.”

“I bet you’re really into the whole power dynamics thing.” Bakugo chokes and Camie removes her hand to place both on her hips. “Y’know, all that sub and dom stuff. Kind of a mild kink if you ask me. Personally, I’m down for whatevs but idk, I think I draw the line at tentacles, not that I judge –”

“Yeah well, luckily no one fucking asked.” Bakugo barks as he airs out the bubbles in the batter by repeatedly slamming the baking tray onto the counter. Camie yanks the tray out of his hands and begins to tap the tray much more gently. He scowls and crosses his arms. “You know an awful lot about kinks for someone who doesn’t get laid.”

Camie winks and leans forward. She purposely pushes her cleavage together so that it spills over, her up-and-down ministrations of bumping the tray against the counter making them jiggle. Bakugo stubbornly doesn’t give her the satisfaction of looking down and meets her gaze dead-on. “How do you know I’m not getting laid?”

Bakugo feels an uncomfortable twist in his chest, but the sudden anger that floods him is almost unbearable. Camie? Having a fuck buddy? The thought stamps a hot iron brand of jealousy in his stomach. What the fuck? In an instant, he sees a vision of another pair of arms wrapped around Camie’s tiny waist, kissing her, tousling her hair. A throb of possessiveness goes through him. It’s what makes him snap, “Yeah fucking right. Why the fuck are you here and not with him then?”

“I mean, we are kinda in the middle of a global pandemic.” Camie drawls. She pushes back from the macaron tray. She cocks a head and her eyes rake his face. The tension that normally simmers between them at a tolerable five has knocked its way up to an insufferable ten. “’Sides, even if I had one, I’d rather be here.”

Bakugo deflates but only slightly. The crease between his eyebrows deepen and the feelings of anger, jealousy, and irritation still make him see red. “So you don’t have one.” He says it like a statement of verification rather than a question.

“No,” Camie shakes her head. She sounds a bit breathless. “I don’t.”

In two strides, Bakugo has her pinned against the wall. Camie’s eyes are wide as she takes in his narrowed ones, zeroing in on her like prey. Her arms are locked above her head, held by Bakugo’s, and he leans dangerously close. Their noses graze and Camie barely has a second to register just how long his eyelashes are when their mouths fuse together. Bakugo isn’t gentle but he sure as hell is an amazing kisser – Camie has to hold back a chuckle. He totes has to be the best at everything, huh? He claims it all, tongue sweeping and staking hold of everything that’s hers. She can hear the subliminal message being conveyed. Mine. Mine. Mine. His hands are greedy, falling from her wrists to touching her everywhere, gripping, pulling, pinching. She scrapes her hands along the hard muscle, equally as needy and lets him take and take.

“Bakugo,” Camie finally manages to gasp as he trails down her neck, sucking, biting, kissing. She can feel her skin puckering under his assault. “The macarons –”

“Fuck ‘em.” He grunts. “They need to chill for an hour anyway.”

Sorry Todomomo, Camie thinks to herself as she grins wildly. Looks like Bakucamie’s beat you to the punch.

[tsumtsum-into-omiomi]

CHAPTER THREE: LUNCH TIME

warning(s): cursing

word count: 1.5k

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The lunch traffic in the dining hall right now is no joke. You are squeezing through hundreds of hungry students trying to look for Suna, who is supposedly saving a seat for you somewhere. Well, he better. You bought him the bento that he wanted, so the least he could do is find a place for you to eat your lunch together.

Slipping past some familiar faces with a "hi" and avoiding the rest, you manage to get to your usual table at the end of the hall only to find Suna missing. You click your tongue while turning around to see if he is nearby. Maybe he was too late to get that table and chose another one.

However, instead of Suna, you see Kita making his way towards you through the crowd.

"Miya," he greets.

"Yo, Kita-san. What's up?" you play it cool while your heart thumps loudly in your chest.

"I need to talk with you about the festival," he informs, hand reaching into his bag for a file holder.

"Oh, right! I was gonna look for you to sign up," you rummage through your backpack to look for a pen.

Kita hands you a piece of form, "the twins have signed up for you. They're just not sure what's your student ID and I need your signature too."

You roll your eyes, "when will they ever stop making decisions for me?"

"I thought you wanna go?" Kita frowns.

"I am. But, the fact that they still sign these things up for me..." you accept the form Kita offered, "I can do it on my own. I'm in my fourth year already, y'know?"

Kita smiles, "I think they just want to make sure that you come. They said something about turning it into a family trip?"

It's your turn to frown at Kita, "this is literally a school thing. What the hell are those two thinking?”

The guy shrugs, "well, you know them."

"They're embarrassing," you shake your head, filling up whatever boxes the twins have left empty.

"And you're one of them too," Kita reminds. You look at him to rebut but unable to find the right words. He's right.

With a sheepish smile, you hand the form back to him, “I'm sorry that there are three of us now in the club.”

"At least you're polite,” he takes the form back and slides it into his file holder. “Thanks.”

“Only with you,” you think, remembering Atsumu and Osamu’s advice not to cross him. And also because you want to be on his good side.

“No problem. By the way, isn't there a fee?” you ask while searching through your backpack again to find your wallet.

Kita raises a hand up, telling you it's fine, “your brothers paid for you already.”

You stop in your track, “oh.” Whatever ill feelings you had for the twins just now disappeared, replaced by some sort of comfort.

“Have you had lunch?” he questions.

“I'm actually looking for Suna. We're supposed to eat together.”

“I saw him with your brothers around here just now. I'm joining them.”

“Oh, cool. Let's go together then.”

Kita nods and starts surfing through the crowd with you behind him. You follow closely, not wanting to lose him but in the middle of all those uniformed students, Kita starts to look no different from the others.

Out of nowhere, someone bumps into you, knocking you out of your path and you are disoriented for a moment. Gathering yourself back quickly, you found your footing again in no time, but Kita has dissolved into the mass. Alarmed by the sudden lost, you look around like a nervous chick trying to find its mom, drowned in the sea of people.

“Oi.”

You feel someone nudging your arm. It's Osamu, with a tray of food in his hands. You sigh in relief to see him. He juts his mouth out towards your east, pointing at where he's sitting at. You can see a blotch of gray hair and hear Atsumu’s laugh  now.

“Can’t  believe I lost Kita-san in the crowd. We were together!” you grumble, resuming your walk with Osamu.

“You lost him or did he leave you?” he teases.

“No way he'd leave me,” you glare at him even though his words made your heart sink.

“Kidding! That's why I said, it's a lost cause. I've never seen him lay his eyes on anyone. And knowing how useless you are around your crushes... it's not gonna go anywhere."

Osamu's truthful words cause you to press your lips together in annoyance. You wanted to respond but the both of you have arrived at the six-seater table to join Atsumu, Suna and Kita.

"See if he even realises that you were separated just now," Osamu adds in a whisper.

“Shut up," you cut the conversation off, not wanting anyone to hear.

“Just sayin’,” he shrugs his shoulders and takes the seat beside Kita.

“Samu-nii!” you hiss at him, giving a hint that you want to sit there.

“What?” he frowns.

“Dumb ass," you curse under your breath before making your way round the table to occupy the vacant chair in front of Osamu instead.

He looks at you with a silent "oh", realising what you meant seconds too late. You roll your eyes at him, pulling out two meal boxes from your backpack and giving one of them to Suna, who is sitting beside you.

"Ugh, you stuffed my lunch into your bag again," he whines, taking the slightly crumpled container from you.

"Sorry," you utter.

"As if you are," Suna opens his box with a small scowl.

"Shut it, I had to queue for 15 minutes to get that," you slam a pair of disposable chopsticks in front of Suna, warning him not to complain further. You would like to focus on your food now, which is also attracting Atsumu at the end of the table. He comes to stand beside you, bending down to inspect the bento.

"What did you get?" he bothers.

"Definitely not your food," you retort, feeding a piece of karaage chicken into your mouth.

"Just a bit, pleaaaaase," Atsumu tries.

"Where's your food?" you grunt, passing your chopsticks to him anyway. Plus, you kind of feel guilty now for crashing his presentation earlier.

"I ate already," he replies, taking a big bite of your rice and chicken.

You smack his shoulder, "are you fucking kidding me?"

"That's good," Atsumu comments, eyes travelling to Osamu's plate now.

"Don't you fucking dare," Osamu pulls his tray closer to him, trying to protect his lunch from Atsumu.

"Your food looks shit, I don't want it anyway," Atsumu sticks his tongue out.

"Miya," Kita interferes and the three of you go quiet. None of you knows which Miya he's referring to but that's definitely a cue to stop bickering. "Can we have a nice lunch, please?"

"Yes, Kita-san," the twins and you answer at the same time in obedience. Atsumu returns to his seat with a sour face, deciding that Osamu's egg rolls that he wanted are not worth the risk of pissing Kita off.

"Which school is hosting the festival this year?" Osamu then prompts.

"Fukurodani, right?" you recall the school name that was printed on the form you filled up earlier.

"Yes," Kita confirms, "Fukurodani Academy."

“Fukurodani’s cool,” Suna compliments, “but I wonder if they can top Seijoh’s festival last year.”

“Oh yes, that was fun!” Atsumu seconds him. He stares into the distance for a second to think, “the only downside was how they only let fourth year students and above to join the contests. The festival's great but last year was definitely the best for me. The duels were crazy, man.”

“Nice. I can join those then!" your excitement is apparent.

"Yeah, you chose the right time to join us," Atsumu echoes.

"What's the festival like?” you gauge, wanting to get an idea since it will be your first time going this year.

“Dude, you're gonna like the festival so much,” Osamu hypes, “it's a weekend full of workshops, pentagram duels, awesome food and pop-up booths selling all sorts of stuff. They always have very rare potion ingredients! Well, it's called the Potions Festival for a reason lol.”

“You’ll meet lots of crazy powerful people too. Remember that clean freak guy who kicked your ass when you dueled him last year?" Suna elbows Atsumu, directing the question to the blonde guy.

Atsumu stays quiet. He slumps in his seat and plays mindlessly with the paper trash of Suna's disposable chopsticks cover.

"No? The one who always had a mask on all the time?" Suna continues. All eyes are on Atsumu now but his mouth remains shut.

"He had like two moles on his forehead, I think?" Suna does not give up and so does Atsumu.

"With wav--"

"I know. He had wavy hair," Atsumu finally speaks, flicking the paper in his hand away. It's subtle, but you could hear the lamentation in his voice.

And you wonder why.

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[nightwingshero]

OC Mannerisms

I was tagged by @risenlucifer and @mackie-hattwie thanks lovelies! I updated Wren, so I added her on here, too. 

Tagging: @deathvalleyqueen because uh...I’m interested in hearing about two wonderful boys you got there. I think everyone has pretty much done this...

Wren Blake

How they smile

Wren smirks, a lot. She’s not arrogant, it’s just how she smiles sometimes (she’s not smug, I swear...well, not all the time). If someone makes a sly joke, pun, or says something amusing, she’ll chuckle and smirk. A lot of times its just a pull on the side of her mouth, indication that you did amuse her, but she’s not gonna make a big deal with it, you know? Sometimes it’s going to be hidden behind her hand/finger though because she likes to hold her face and cover her mouth (its easier for her to hide her expressions that way and to keep her from saying things she shouldn’t—also a nervous thing), or she may even be biting her thumbnail. If you make her super happy or excited, she smiles wide and shows teeth. The girl BEAMS. Her actual small smiles are caused by nostalgia or contemplation, or something super thoughtful and cute. If she’s recalling something sweet or soft, a good memory of hers, she’s looking to the side with a small and soft smile, almost like in a daydream.

What their “tell” is for lying

Wren doesn’t like to lie; she hates it and values honesty. That being said, that doesn’t mean she’s bad at it. It can be hard to tell when she’s lying because well…she’s genuinely a trustworthy person, only very few people can tell. She gets more defensive and arrogant when she’s lying. She’ll jut her chin out and dare you, in her own way, to accuse her of lying if you’re doubting her. If it’s someone she loves, she will avoid eye contact and hide her hands, closing herself off from them. Whether that’s shoving them in her pockets or tucking them with her arms crossed over her chest. She grows a bit cold and distant, to help or ease the guilt of lying. She’s way more obvious about it then. But the more she likes/loves/cares about someone, the worse she is at it.

Posture

Wren is usually pretty straight-spined and stiff with people she doesn’t know. She’s on her guard, and she won’t let it down. She will be very tense and her nerves…they’re going to be shot, and she’s going to be a bit jumpy and defensive (my girl is claustrophobic, okay? She will tense up in a closed off space or feel boxed in around people she doesn’t know. Cut her some slack). If she’s in a comfortable place, or with people she’s comfortable with, she’s much more relaxed and open. She leans against things often or has her hands on her hips on occasion, completely at ease. If she’s sitting, her legs and feet are up in the chair/couch with her. She will hold her knee as she leans back or sit up straight with her legs crossed under her. The girl never sits in a chair properly.

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

Wren has a pretty even tone, sometimes leaning more towards the soft side. But she’s been known to raise her voice when she’s angry or if she’s more serious, it’ll have an edge to it—borderline sharp. When she’s taunting you, pulling that dark siren/judge thing, her tone is gonna be subtly venomous. Its not like Whitney, where it’s sugary. Its more…husky and seductive. She’s so damn articulate and smooth when she’s in her element. She may not like talking to people because she’s introverted, but she knows how to (it’s actually doing it that’s the problem). She’s pretty easy to approach, for the most part, even though she not to put herself out there to be. If she’s nervous, her introverted nature–her true nature–will show. She will clam up, stutter, ramble, and even talk in circles. Most of the time, it’s usually around someone she’s not comfortable with/doesn’t know, someone that has taken control of the conversation away from her, someone she’s attracted to/really likes, or if something happens out of the blue that throws her off completely.

Nervous tics

Wren will get super quiet and avoid direct or focused eye contact if she’s nervous. She’ll bite her lip (or her thumbnail) or shove her hands in her pockets, maybe even cross her arms. She’ll sway and constantly scan the room (most likely looking for an escape route—she’s a runner). Wren will also sigh, and she rubs her thumb, tracing her vine tattoos if she doesn’t put her hands in her pockets. Honestly, that’s a go-to. Its usually with her thumb, pointer, or middle finger, and she will lightly trace the whole tattoo on her wrist/thumb. She gets fidgety with her hands/fingers, mostly tapping rhythmically as if she were playing a piano or drumming them to a song that’s in her head. If she’s sitting, she’ll steeple her fingers, or cover her mouth with her fingers while resting her head on her hand. Just pretty closed-off behavior, to be honest.

How much eye contact do they make

A decent amount, it’s really big with her. Wren likes to look people in the eye, mostly because it’s respectful (or at least, that’s how she was raised. It was kinda drilled into her) and because she’s also genuinely listening to the other person. Like, obviously don’t pull a Joseph (dude, seriously, take notes), but I mean, keep some to let them know you’re listening. The only times Wren won’t meet your eye is when she’s nervous, unsure of herself, lying (depending on who you are), and because she knows herself well enough that her true emotions live and show there. It also helps her feel connected to you, in a way. Like, she’s not very touchy when she first meets you (although it’s one of her love languages, and it’s something she craves), so that eye contact is gonna be important to her.

In a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right next to people?

With people she knows, she’ll stand closer in the group. She has no issue with being a part of a group she knows, especially if they’re friends. She participates, although she would be so drained afterwards. Girl hates crowds, no matter who it is. If it’s a mix of people she knows and doesn’t know, she will either keep her distance, or choose a person she knows well (Randy, Jane, Ro, a SO, for example), and sticks with them. If she’s too uncomfortable with a group (which definitely happens), she’s going to be leaning against the wall or sitting at a table away from the group, listening and only talking when she needs to. Wren is very much to herself, and she hates being put in those situations. It’s honestly hit or miss with her, but she’s guarded, so she will try and distance herself if the people are new. If she’s sitting on something like a table or a box, she will drum with her hands to a song that’s in her head and sing to herself.

When standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands, cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc

This all depends on who she is with and what the situation is. Wren can be animated, and she definitely talks with her hands. She’s just an expressive person, even if she doesn’t mean to be. The more open she is with you, the more expressive. Touching, gesturing, light punches. It depends. Now, on the other hand, her closed off behavior involves her crossing her arms, being stiffer, and if she’s away from the group, she’s leaning against something. She doesn’t mean to come off as standoffish, but she doesn’t want you in her space, either. If she’s nervous, she will absolutely shove her hands in her pockets. But that’s if she’s wearing her jacket. If not, she’s tracing her wrist tattoos absentmindedly. She will also place them on her hips.

The sound of their footsteps

Wren can be light on her feet (have you seen how tiny she is?), which is why stealth works well for her. She has no issue going barefoot (she grew up in Oklahoma, this was a regular thing), and her combat boots (or converse) aren’t super loud. She also knows how to stay silent when it’s needed. But you bet your ass she’s stomping away when she’s pissed. Her in heels is another story. She genuinely loves to hear the clack of her heels, so you’ll definitely hear her coming. It’s probably one of the reasons she loves wearing them. Plus, they make her ass and legs look good, so there’s that.

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

Wren will nod or give a small wave to acquaintances with a small smile. With friends, it’s more personal. She waves and, depending on who, will hug and give high fives. Now…Wren will lightly punch or smack if she has a crush. She will also playfully shove. She will do it significant others (established relationship), too, if she’s feeling playful. Other than that, it’s a hug and a quick kiss to the cheek, because Wren is always affectionate to her SOs (and best friends).  

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

She’ll clearing her throat or try to catch their eye and give a nod, kinda like a “come here” gesture. She will touch their shoulder with a squeeze and lean into whisper. (Mostly with friends or SOs). Most of the time, she might just touch your arm in passing with a verbal greeting. Wren is not above putting herself in your line of sight, either. She can be passive aggressive about it if you’re ignoring her. That’s the point where she will go out of her way to make sure she has your attention, especially if you’ve pissed her off.

Randy Miller

How they smile

Randy doesn’t always smile, but that doesn’t mean he’s in a bad mood. He just…he’s so damn laidback. Randy has his arms crossed, mostly with his hands open and pressed against his chest, and when he laughs, he’ll bend forward a bit and his shoulders shake as he nods. He’ll go a lopsided grin as he strokes his beard, looking off to the side or shaking his head. Sometimes its just his lips pressed together with a small smile.

What their “tell” is for lying

Randy isn’t a liar. That’s…that’s not how he is. It’s always “I ain’t gonna lie to ya…”, because he’s gonna give it to you straight, whether you want it or not. He’s not a sugar coater. I mean, he’d rather not say anything at all than lie to you, but Randy is more direct than that. He’s gonna just tell you how it is.

Posture

Not the best, honestly. Like stated above, he mostly has his arms crossed and is looking down with his shoulders hunched a bit. That’s 99% of the time. Most of it is because it makes him less intimidating, but he’s just mostly contemplative and silently listening to everything going on around him. He slouches in chairs, leaning back with his legs spread and stretched out in front of him. He’s a leaner, too. He’ll lean forward on things or against a wall, because he’s just chilling.

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

Randy talks lowly, most of the time. He has somewhat of a deeper voice, and its definitely husky. It can take a lighter tilt when he’s being super expressive and exaggerating. When he’s pissed (don’t fuck with the people he cares about, yeah?), his voice raises and fuck, is he scary. He’s been known to bellow, and yeah, that’s terrifying. But so is when he gets in your face and whispers very lowly and menacingly. I don’t know which is worse, either way: you’re fucked.

Nervous tics

Mostly just nodding and stroking his beard. He might clear his throat here and there out of habit. He’s also known to shuffle his feet in the dirt or gravel while he’s looking down. Randy will also shift is weight from one foot to the other and crack his neck.

How much eye contact do they make

It’s a toss up with this guy. He doesn’t shy away from it, but he’s just usually looking down or scanning the area around him. But when he does make eye contact, its piercing and intense (not a creepy way, he’s not Joseph), and just direct. Some people can’t handle it, to be honest, because its just…raw, in a way. It’s unfiltered, unapologetic, and it’s like he sees right through you—and knowing him, he probably does. His eyes are usually hold his emotions, but sometimes they’re super hard to read because is eye contact is direct and focused.

In a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right next to people?

It depends on the group, to be honest. Randy is more outgoing, though he can have introvert tendencies—mostly around people he can’t stand/trust or because he doesn’t want to deal with people (just his dogs). He has no issues being a part of a group in general. But he’s been known to sit or stand further away, slouching or leaning while listening to what’s being said. Randy is super attentive and observant that way. But he can strike up a conversation with anybody when motivated to do so or if someone talks to him, he’s quick to engage. He’s just comfortable in his skin, and honestly, he could be with a group of people he’s never met, and you’d think they were all good friends. He’s so sure of himself.

When standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands, cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc.

Randy isn’t much into talking with his hands. Like I mentioned, his arms are crossed most of the time (people don’t complain—have you seen his arms???), so his hands are pressed against his chest, with his thumbs up. He might pull a hand up and stroke his beard as he’s nodding in the middle of a conversation. If he’s making a point, being exaggerative or going into a huge “speech” moment, then he might wave his arms around to emphasize his point (like the moment he confronts Wes in the WrenWes canon). He might use the hand he’s rubbing his beard with, and wave it or do a slow “karate chop” movement when discussing things like strategy or something that requires deep thinking.

The sound of their footsteps

Randy tries to be stealthy, he really does, but its not his strong point. The man is…he’s big. And he wears boots most of the time, and that combo isn’t very good. He’s tried hunting, he’s bad at it. The only time he’s good at that is when he’s tracking someone down—kidnapping or capturing them for Eden’s Gate (*cough*WREN*cough*). Most of the time, you can hear him coming. He doesn’t stomp, he’s just a bit heavy on the heel. He might shuffle his feet along if he’s not looking forward to doing something or going somewhere.

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

Randy is a nodder. He’ll give you a quick and polite nod in acknowledgement. If he’s walking up to a friend, he’ll give a playful little elbow nudge and a nod. He will also tilt his head down a bit and raise his shoulders a bit, and that’s more for the people he has a deep respect for. But yeah, he doesn’t really wave. He might playfully shove people he’s super close to or clap them on the shoulder with a nod (yes, again with the nodding). The only people he really high fives are Wren, Jane, or a few others depending on the verse. He also grips your hand, wrapping his hands around your thumb/hand and give you a slap on the arm/shoulder. He’s also known to grasp your forearm with a nod.

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

Yeah, I dare you to try and ignore this guy. Randy is huge and will get in your direct line of sight when he needs your attention now. He’s a direct guy, he doesn’t deal with bullshit when things need to be discussed or dealt with. When he has a purpose, you will see him coming. He will do a sharp whistle while making his way to you to grab your attention or make you aware he’s about to approach you. And no, he’s not doing it to be offensive. He’s a dog dad, he’s honestly just used to it. If you know Randy, you’ll know he’s super respectful towards people (until you don’t deserve it). Randy will nudge you or walk up to and use his either his pointer or middle finger knuckle to kinda gently tap your arm if he needs to be discrete.

Rowan Palmer

How they smile

Rowan smiles brightly and shows her teeth. Same when she laughs. She’s honestly just a bright and sunny person. Not like a cheerleader, but genuinely warm. Ro just kinda has an optimistic disposition. She’ll also so a side smile, soft and a bit funny, but it shows off one of her dimples, and it’s adorable.  

What their “tell” is for lying

She’s actually a good liar. She’s super outgoing and charismatic and has a spine. If she has to lie to you, she absolutely will, and good luck telling the difference. Rowan will always do what she has to, and if she has to lie for your own good, she absolutely will. But her tell is her becoming more…cold. She’ll hold her head high, her back will be straight (straighter than normal, that is) and purse her lips only slightly. Honestly, if you don’t know her really well, you’re not gonna make the connection. But she’s a bit more detached when she lies.

Posture

Ro has good posture, mostly thanks to her time in the Air Force. It just never really left her. Her arms are always loose at her sides, her back straight and her shoulders back a bit. She’s very confident in how she presents herself. She might lean against the bar on occasion or slouch in a chair, but not that often. She will sometimes bend a knee with her hands shoved in her jacket pockets or with them on her hips

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

Rowan has a rather even tone, which has kind of a…I wouldn’t say deepness, but it’s definitely not tilted. I wanna say its deep with a warmth to it. It’s very calm. Even when she’s mad, she won’t raise her voice, it just hardens. But most of the time, it’s a lower to even tone.

Nervous tics

She’s really bad at biting the side of her cheek and doing that puckered-mouth-to-the-side thing. She’ll also scrunch up her nose a bit from time to time. Ro will also shift her gaze from person to person. Rowan also rises up on her tip toes sometimes, just for the movement of it. She’s fidgety when it comes to her feet. She will also mess with her camo ball cap, if she’s wearing it, or her braid/ponytail.

How much eye contact do they make

Rowan is a lot like Randy in this aspect, at least in terms of directness. Ro isn’t one to shy away from eye contact. She’s naturally observant (especially when outdoors), so she’s always scanning fields and the tree line. It’s the hunter in her, she gets excited seeing deer and other wildlife. While she gives direct eye contact, it’s not that intense. She’s actually a bit soft on the eyes, so she doesn’t really come off as intimidating (and if you assume that she’s not a threat, that’s your mistake, buddy), but rather open and warm. When pissed off, that changes drastically. She can be a hard ass, glaring at you heatedly and making you feel six inches tall.  

In a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right next to people?

Rowan is very much in it. She’s less likely to be off to the side, because she likes talking to people in general, even if its meaningless small talk. Rowan’s gonna be close to who she knows best, while making herself warm and open to those she doesn’t. She’s not a bubbly person, she’s just…warm. I really don’t know how else to explain that. She’s more extroverted than introverted, so crowds never really bother her.

When standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands, cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc.

Mostly they’re at her side or tucked in her jacket pockets with a knee bent with her weight shifted to the other leg. She gestures with her hands in her pockets and does a lot of shrugging and nodding. She’s not one to really talk with her hands unless she’s pissed. Then it’s a lot of waving around, pointing, and throwing them up in the air in exasperation.

The sound of their footsteps

You’ll never hear her coming, honestly. Stealthy as hell, this one. Rowan has been hunting all her life and being Survival Instructor (in the SERE program) helped with that too. The girl is a fucking camo ninja with a compound and recurve bow. Ro is so damn light on her feet, even when she’s pissed. Some people get used to it (like Wren, Randy, and Jane), but most people jump because she sneaks up on them unintentionally (insert the Dwight and Angela meme: here).

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

She waves at mostly everyone, to be honest. You’ll most likely get the casual wave: her hand near her shoulder as she gives a quick wave or wiggles her fingers. If you’re further way, her arm is higher, and depending on how excited she is to see you, she’ll wave harder. Ro will also tip her hat, because she’s often wearing a ball cap (yes, it’s camo). It’s more of a respect thing and it’s usually when she’s doing her ranger thing.

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

Mostly waving or calling “hey, ___!”. If she’s super excited to see you and trying to get your attention, she’ll bounce on her tip toes as she waves high in the air. Any other time, she’s putting herself in your space, immediately taking control of the conversation/situation. She’s an assertive person, she doesn’t do passive aggression. If she wants your attention, she will get it. She tries to be respectful about it, really, she just has a tendency to grab attention when she needs it, and it can rub people the wrong way (mostly Hurk Sr and Jess).

Jane Williams

How they smile

Ha! Jane smiling…that’s the best joke I’ve heard ever. Jane…she’s not very expressive when it comes to positive emotions. Her laughs are more scoffs, low chuckles, or snorts with a roll of her eyes. Her “smiles” aren’t much better. She doesn’t really show her teeth, and when she does, it’s a tight-lipped smile where you’ll see the tiniest sliver of white. But you gotta get close to her for that. Mostly you’re getting sarcastic or condescending smirks or sneers. Yeah, she’s an asshole, but honestly, it’s just a front. Once you get to know her and she’s warmed up to you, you can catch the slight upturn of the corner of her mouth. Not saying that you have to be close to cause her small smile, but most people don’t catch it. It’s not a tell people, who don’t know her that well, catch onto.

What their “tell” is for lying

There isn’t one. Jane doesn’t really have a second thought to lying, she’ll do it with a straight face if you’re not someone she’s close to. She doesn’t care, you’re not her problem. Jane will not spare your feelings. Her expression is usually impassive or deadpan, almost bored….and irritated, at times. Now…if it’s someone she has a lot of respect for, or someone she begrudgingly cares about (it happens more often than not, guys. She tries to shut those emotions down—doesn’t mean she doesn’t have them), you can catch a tick in her jaw and her nostrils will flare a bit.

Posture

Jane—in blatant terms—either has a stick up her ass or doesn’t care. Depending on her mood. 9/10, she’s gonna fuck off, and lean against anything she can find with her arms crossed and a scowl or a bored expression. If there’s something to sit on top of—table, bar, car, etc—she’s mostly gonna be sitting. Jane will also climb up on a low branch in a tree and just chill. She’s also known to just sit against a wall with her arms resting on her knees. She’s also super proud (*cough*andenvious*cough*), so if you insult her, rub her the wrong way, or just piss her off, her spine is straight, shoulders pulled back, and head held high. She will dare you to step up and say it again all from her body language…good luck with that.

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

A bit on the lower side and sharp. Naturally, it’s a bit of a higher tilt, but she sometimes makes the conscious decision to lower it, and mostly because she mutters a lot or doesn’t want to bring attention to herself. Once she gets nice and irritated (or passionate/emotional in general), you’ll hear her voice on a regular octave, and honestly, she really does have a nice voice. She just…doesn’t like bringing attention to herself and she’s a grumpy asshole most of the time.

Nervous tics

Jane clenches her jaw when nervous. Honestly it comes out as frustration than anything, so a lot of sighing, rolling her eyes, crinkling of her nose, and death glares. She hates being put in uncomfortable situations and will direct it towards you (which is why people joke about her stabbing you). You just gotta learn to read the room, honestly. Because her being genuinely pissed off is her getting in your face and posturing like said above. Most people don’t know that though, so people keep their distance which is what she wants (she’s been through it, guys, cut her some slack). She will also bounce her leg, tap her foot, or play with her knife…okay, the stabbing thing might have some truth to it.

How much eye contact do they make

That depends. If she’s disinterested (like she is most of the time), she’s not gonna spare you a glance. That doesn’t mean she’s not listening. Yes, she’s one of those “pssh, I don’t care, so I’m not gonna look at you…but hear every little thing you say and remember it” people. Mostly because she can get information to use against you, but sometimes she really does care, she just can’t show it. On the other hand, if you get her riled up, she will get in your face and stare you down. Her gaze is sharp, piercing, and—unlike Randy—means to be intimidating. When she’s uncomfortable (emotionally or physically), she will avert her gaze, mostly to glare at something because her pride is wounded, and she really doesn’t want to show you emotions. She’ll do what she can to avoid that.

In a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right next to people?

You’d have to drag her kicking and screaming if its people she doesn’t know or want to associate with. You’re probably wondering “Jane, how are you gonna get to know them if you don’t try?” and her answer would be “I don’t fucking want to.” She hates socializing, she hates crowds of people, she’s gonna be hiding in a corner, huddled up and giving the vibe of “come near me, and I’ll fucking kill you”—figuratively…and literally.

When standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands, cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc.

Definitely crossed. Jane doesn’t do a lot with her hands or arms, because she really does try to be impassive and unexpressive. She will occasionally flip someone off while making a face, but mostly because someone (looking at you, Wren and Randy) decided to poke the bear. She’ll clench her fists and keep her arms stiff at her sides when she’s super pissed and yelling at someone. The only time she uses her hands is when she’s gesturing to make a point and can’t find the words.

The sound of their footsteps

She’s light on her feet, not as good as Rowan, but pretty damn close. Jane is very much a silent killer—both with her sniper rifle and her capability to sneak up on people. She will stomp her feet when she’s pissed though, and it’s not really on purpose, but Jane is…she’s a force to be reckoned with and that emotion has to come out somehow. While Ro will sneak up on someone and make them jump when she greets them, Jane won’t even bother. She’ll stay there until you notice her and its…I swear, she does it on purpose sometimes. It’s payback a lot of times.

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

Jane isn’t too big on greetings that’s not her just giving a small, sharp nod. Like, her glancing you and acknowledging your presence is greeting enough to her in most cases. She shoves Randy, though, because they’re close, or she’ll punch his arm. Usually the greeting is verbal and clipped, her calling the person by their last name.

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

Jane isn’t normally out to seek someone’s attention. You need to talk? You come to her; she’s not coming to you. Most of the time, anyway. If it’s in regard to something that needs to be done (like for Eden’s Gate or performing her duties as a Chosen), she’s gonna walk up to you fast, tell you what needs done, and walk off. She’s not gonna put up with the “needing to grab your attention” bullshit, she’s gonna take your attention, and not care how you like it, because chances are she didn’t want to really talk to you anyway. If she’s pissed or greeting a friend, she might yell: “hey asshole!”. Yeah, good luck figuring out which one it is…chances are if you’re not sure, it’s the former.

How they smile

Ha! Jane smiling…that’s the best joke I’ve heard ever. Jane…she’s not very expressive when it comes to positive emotions. Her laughs are more scoffs, low chuckles, or snorts with a roll of her eyes. Her “smiles” aren’t much better. She doesn’t really show her teeth, and when she does, it’s a tight-lipped smile where you’ll see the tiniest sliver of white. But you gotta get close to her for that. Mostly you’re getting sarcastic or condescending smirks or sneers. Yeah, she’s an asshole, but honestly, it’s just a front. Once you get to know her and she’s warmed up to you, you can catch the slight upturn of the corner of her mouth. Not saying that you have to be close to cause her small smile, but most people don’t catch it. It’s not a tell people, who don’t know her that well, catch onto.

What their “tell” is for lying

There isn’t one. Jane doesn’t really have a second thought to lying, she’ll do it with a straight face if you’re not someone she’s close to. She doesn’t care, you’re not her problem. Jane will not spare your feelings. Her expression is usually impassive or deadpan, almost bored….and irritated, at times. Now…if it’s someone she has a lot of respect for, or someone she begrudgingly cares about (it happens more often than not, guys. She tries to shut those emotions down—doesn’t mean she doesn’t have them), you can catch a tick in her jaw and her nostrils will flare a bit.

Posture

Jane—in blatant terms—either has a stick up her ass or doesn’t care. Depending on her mood. 9/10, she’s gonna fuck off, and lean against anything she can find with her arms crossed and a scowl or a bored expression. If there’s something to sit on top of—table, bar, car, etc—she’s mostly gonna be sitting. Jane will also climb up on a low branch in a tree and just chill. She’s also known to just sit against a wall with her arms resting on her knees. She’s also super proud (*cough*andenvious*cough*), so if you insult her, rub her the wrong way, or just piss her off, her spine is straight, shoulders pulled back, and head held high. She will dare you to step up and say it again all from her body language…good luck with that.

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

A bit on the lower side and sharp. Naturally, it’s a bit of a higher tilt, but she sometimes makes the conscious decision to lower it, and mostly because she mutters a lot or doesn’t want to bring attention to herself. Once she gets nice and irritated (or passionate/emotional in general), you’ll hear her voice on a regular octave, and honestly, she really does have a nice voice. She just…doesn’t like bringing attention to herself and she’s a grumpy asshole most of the time.

Nervous tics

Jane clenches her jaw when nervous. Honestly it comes out as frustration than anything, so a lot of sighing, rolling her eyes, crinkling of her nose, and death glares. She hates being put in uncomfortable situations, and will direct it towards you (which is why people joke about her stabbing you). You just gotta learn to read the room, honestly. Because her being genuinely pissed off is her getting in your face and posturing like said above. Most people don’t know that though, so people keep their distance which is what she wants (she’s been through it, guys, cut her some slack). She will also bounce her leg, tap her foot, or play with her knife…okay, the stabbing thing might have some truth to it.

Whitney Seed

How they smile

Whit has a bright, warm, contagious smile when she’s happy. She shows teeth most of the time, and her cheeks will get a little rosy. Now…you have to be careful, because Whitney has a lot of different smiles. That bright, sweet, motherly smile will have sickly sweet poison dripping in it if you’ve crossed her. You can usually tell when that is because of how she says “honey”, “sweetheart”, “bless your heart”, “sweetie”, or “darling” (much like Wren). You can usually tell you’ve crossed a if you catch the infliction is off, and it will definitely make a chill go down your spine. She will also smirk proudly and condescending when she’s “right” or you “prove her right”.

What their “tell” is for lying

Whitney can overdo it with the sweetness if she lies and you’re onto her. She becomes more expressive with her hands, more touchy-feely, trying to ease you and convince you. Of course, if you know this, it can be obvious. But if you don’t…well, she can come across as super reassuring and safe. Despite the kinda sickly sweet nature of Whitney, she really doesn’t like to lie. Not really. So it’s not only to try and convince you, but also herself.

Posture

Whitney tries to be the perfect lady, like Nancy raised her to be, so her posture is almost perfect. She crosses her legs and always presents herself well. At home, when she’s not around people, she slacks a bit (good for her though, right?) and just relaxes. She’s more reclined and at ease. But outside, she has a role to keep, there’s pressure with being the Mother of Eden’s Gate, so she has to be perfect. Her posture is no different. She holds herself high in that regard.

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

High tilted with a twang. While Wren’s Oklahoma accent slips, Whitney’s southern twang is something that woman embraces. It gives a honey feel, adding to the motherly/homey persona that she is, so it’s definitely to her benefit. When she’s pissed or frustrated, her voice can be a bit shrill, sometimes like nails on a chalkboard if she’s worked up enough. You don’t want to be around for that.

Nervous tics

Her voice goes up an octave, and she talks faster. She’s gonna flip her hair more often too and examine her nails. Honestly, do anything she can to appear put together and confident, in her element even though she isn’t. Fake it till you make it, baby! Whit will also laugh a little bit more, and you can sometimes tell it’s forced, but the woman is really good at hiding it. She’ll also tap her heels if she’s antsy enough.

How much eye contact do they make

Whitney is naturally charismatic, outgoing, and open, so she’s big on eye contact. Healthy and normal eye contact (take notes, Joseph). It helps her gain trust with people and honestly, it’s easier for her to read you that way. And Nancy always taught her to make eye contact, it’s only polite to do so. She’s also just used to it, it shows you’re listening and engaged, and she genuinely is. Whitney is an active listener, despite all the manipulation and stuff. She does genuinely care about conversations and hearing people. She’s gonna show that with eye contact, establishing trust and offering a safe feeling.

In a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right next to people?

Close! Whitney has a way of becoming the center of attention without trying, part of the reason Joseph chose to marry her (don’t…ugh, don’t get me started on that). People are drawn to her because she’s shiny, bright, and a bit bubbly. The girl has no issues with crowds whatsoever and will always make a place for herself in someone’s group, and they don’t say a word because it’s not long before they’ve forgotten she wasn’t really apart of them in the first place. And it’s not fake, its so genuine, but it does get manipulated and used later.

When standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands, cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc.

Whitney is very touchy-feely and expressive. She’s either going to wave her hands a bit, but most likely will touch you. Like a squeeze of your arm/shoulder, rubbing your arm, picking lint off your shirt, or just messing with anything she can get her hands on (purse, phone, anything within range etc). Even go as far as holding your hand in both of hers. She will also flip her hair or momentarily mess with it. If she walks past something reflective while talking, she’s gonna check her makeup while continuing the conversation.

The sound of their footsteps

You’ll always hear Whitney, she’s not really sneaky, and she’s always wearing either heels or wedges. On the days she wears flats or regular sandals, her steps are a bit softer by nature, and hard to pick out. And it’s not like she stomps, because she doesn’t. Even when she’s angry, she tries to avoid overly expressing negative emotions (hurts the image, you know?). So, it just really depends on what she’s wearing, I suppose.

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

She’s a hugger, to the extreme. Whitney is hugging you, touching you, even if you don’t know her (much to Wren and Jane’s distaste). Whitney is so damn accepting and loving, and just overall affectionate. Don’t be surprised if she grabs the tops of your arms and kisses each cheek—whether its an actual kiss or just kissing the air while pressing her cheek against yours. If she’s greeting you from further away, she’ll twiddle her fingers at you or a polite wave.

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

Whitney is going to gasp and call your name a bit excitedly with that twang of hers. And yeah, I dare you to try and pretend to ignore that. Woman is relentless once her sights are on you, be prepared for a conversation. She will also “politely” clear her throat to get your attention if she’s trying to get your attention and ignore her in some situations. She will grab your hand, arm, or shoulder with a squeeze, pulling your attention to her, as well.

[lady-divine-writes]

The Prince of the Sea and his Child of Fire (Rated M)

Summary: Blaine is a water sprite, prince of the undersea kingdom and sole heir to the throne. Five days away from turning seventeen and his big coronation, he decides to take a journey to the surface, to seek out a legendary flame said to be tended by an evil witch. Instead of a witch, he finds something else entirely …

Kurt is a fire fairy, prince of a race of fire fairies and heir to the throne. Five days away from turning seventeen (on the night of a full solar eclipse when he will transform and become king), he sees for the first time in his life a water sprite - a member of a race that he’s been raised to hate.

What will happen when these two mortal enemies fall in love? Is there any way for them to escape destiny and be together?

Notes: This is inspired by the movie ‘The Sea Prince and the Fire Child’, which itself has elements of 'Romeo and Juliet’ and other tragic love stories in it. However, it isn’t a word-for-word retelling. As a child when I first saw the movie 'The Sea Prince and the Fire Child’, a lot of it bothered me. There were things that the characters did that I thought were ridiculous, and I didn’t like the way the story ended. So this is me fixing all of those problems and telling the story the way I want it :) It’s a re-write of another story I wrote for a different pairing a while ago. It’s complete, and I will be posting a chapter or two a day. I hope you enjoy.

Read on AO3.

Chapter 1

“Psst!”

“What?”

“Psst!!”

“What!?”

“Come on! Hurry up! We don’t have all night, you know!”

“If I can’t keep up on your little adventure, maybe we should both stay home then.”

“Not a chance. Maybe a tiny bit of jellyfish venom will get you moving.”

“You … wouldn’t … dare!”

“Ha! Try me.”

A face peers around the smooth edge of a wall. Golden eyes shimmering with bioluminescence pierce the surrounding shadows in search of guards.

“Is the coast clear?” a hushed voice echoes too loudly in the cavernous hall.

“Shhh!” the first escapee snaps. “Yes, but you’re going to wake the whole castle if you don’t learn how to whisper!”

“I know that,” the second escapee whines, huddled beside his friend.

“Then stop talking!” is whispered in a hiss that can be heard for miles.

“Ugh! I don’t even want to do this, Blaine!”

“Well, we’re gonna, Trent! And I don’t want to hear another word about it!”

Blaine grabs his friend’s hand and drags him around the corner. Sticking close to the wall, they sneak down the hall. It’s woefully dark, lit only by a shaft of soft blue light, courtesy of a mob of phytoplankton congregating outside the castle windows. The two friends spiral up and up a rarely used tower of the west wing to a cramped turret obscured by a growth of coral. Out through the open window they swim, throwing anxious looks over their shoulders until the castle is completely out of their sights, and the fugitive water sprites reach the open ocean.

“We shouldn’t be doing this!” Trent says, tossing a few extra glances back. “If your father finds out we’re gone, he’ll send the royal guard!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Blaine mutters, “he’ll be super disappointed in me. So what else is new?”

“Well, maybe. But I don’t need him angry at me, either!”

Blaine chuckles. “Are you scared of my father, Trent?”

“Yes. Dreadfully scared. And I’m not ashamed to admit it.”

Cutting through the water, the two sprites swim, passing schools of fish that decrease in size as they make their way up to the world above – a place no sprite dares to go.

Trent stops just below, but Blaine breaches the water’s surface and looks around, searching out the fabled lick of fire burning in the darkness of the wood. He narrows his eyelids and peers through the veil formed by the interwoven tree branches and the moonless sky until he spots it - a yellow and orange drop dancing magically on a branch hovering inches above the water.

Blaine smiles. He reaches down blindly, grabs Trent by the hair, and yanks him up out of the water.

“Owwww!” Trent groans, but Blaine turns him roughly toward the light flickering in the darkness.

“Bingo.” Blaine releases his struggling friend and claps him on the back - hard enough to make him cough - before paddling his way toward the fire.

Trent follows close behind, not wanting to be left alone where any manner of animal can swoop down from the trees and swallow him whole. “Are we really going to do this, Blaine?”

“Yup,” Blaine answers without turning to look at his frightened friend.

Trent’s swimming slows as his body trembles. “Why again?”

“We’ve heard legends about this flame our entire lives! Don’t you finally want to see it? With your own eyes? Once and for all?”

“No, I don’t. Not particularly.”

“Why ever not?”

“You know why!” Trent argues. “They say these woods are haunted!”

“Of course they do,” Blaine murmurs. “That’s how they keep us in line.” He continues treading water, barely listening. He reaches a log jutting out that blocks his path. On the other side of the log, he sees a small pool surrounding the light, blocked off from the sea. From this distance, he can see the flame just fine. But there’s something else he’s searching for.

“Blaine!” Trent snaps, realizing he’s being ignored. “Th-they say that the fire is tended by a hideous witch, and that the flame is kept lit by the bones of water sprites who got too close and were eaten alive!”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Oh, please! Do you still believe those stories, Trent? Look at yourself! You’re a grown sprite, a member of the royal court, personal advisor to our kingdom’s one and only prince. How can you still believe in ghost stories?”

“B-because some ghost stories are t-true,” Trent stutters as a chill breeze blows past, whistling through the leaves.

“Jeez, Trent. If you’re going to be such a baby, why did you even come?”

“You didn’t give me a choice!” Trent yells, Blaine’s arrogant comment making him forget all thoughts of evil sprite-eating witches. Blaine clamps a hand over Trent’s mouth and holds him still, both sprites staring wide-eyed, willing whatever might be lurking in the shadows to stay there.

A mouse rustles the underbrush as it scurries through the leaves. An owl shrieks over their heads, causing them to duck, submerge up to their chins. A moment of silence, and then a tortured squeak as the mouse is carried away in the owl’s deadly talons, joining the monstrous bird for dinner.

Blaine’s hand drops away from Trent’s mouth.

“B-besides, you n-need me,” Trent stammers unconvincingly. “I’m s-sworn to protect you.”

“So how come it is I spend so much time saving your sorry behind?” Blaine shakes his head and leaps over the log, landing with a gentle splash in the water on the other side.

“Wait!” Trent calls. “You saw the fire! Isn’t that enough? Can’t we go home now?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?” Trent whisper-yells to the prince’s back. “Why not yet?”

“Because we got this far. I’m going to go find myself a witch!”

“No, Blaine!” Trent sinks his fingers into the soaked log, his arms shaking. “No! Come back!”

Trent’s pleas are lost to the wind and the bowing trees as Blaine swims closer and closer to the crackling flame. The fire lures him to it. It sings him a song both beautiful and heartbreaking. It fills his eyes and his mind with its music. It leads him from the safety of the water to its light.

Blaine has seen hot things before, in places beneath the ocean where volcanoes pour their lava into the water. Beneath the sea, it blinks red for an instant, then turns hard and black forever.

But this flame has a soul. It has life.

It wants Blaine to become a part of it.

He reaches for it, the heat drying his skin even though he’s nowhere near close enough to touch it.

“Blaine!” Trent continues to yell, but Blaine doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about friends or family or life or his kingdom beneath the sea, as long as he has this flame in front of him.

Singing him lullabies with its mystical voice.

Something steps out from behind the fire and blocks his view. A sardonic, “Hey!” gets locked in his throat when he sees a pale body materialize. Blaine has sense enough to drop down into the water, but he keeps his eyes glued to the spot where a figure dances, twirling on tip-toes, arms waving in the air, feeding the fire with petals and leaves until the light dances with him, higher and higher, touching the sky.

Blaine squints against the blazing light so he can see the figure more clearly.

His mouth drops open.

“A fairy!” he breathes, watching as it twirls with eyes closed, fragile wings of silver fanning the flame, turning pink as they catch the light. The fairy faces the fire, singing (and Blaine now realizes that it is this fairy’s voice he was hearing – high and otherworldly, carried on the wind) and Blaine dares to emerge once again.

The fairy seems about Blaine’s age, and has a head of brown hair – the shade of autumn chestnuts and turning leaves. He is shirtless, the muscles of his back throwing shadows back and forth over his smooth, pastel skin. The play of shadows fascinates Blaine, as does the line of his spine – so straight and so strong, probably earned by hours of flying. Blaine sighs. What it must feel like to fly – to be free to travel the skies and into the clouds, to leave the world and all of your responsibilities behind.

Responsibilities that Blaine feels pile on top of him every day, more and more, threatening to crush him dead before he even has the chance to live.

Sea King at only seventeen.

The thought leaves its bitter tang on his tongue.

Some sprites would see it as the ultimate honor, but for Blaine it’s a trap. Which is why he took this trip to the surface – his one and only trip, since the moment he is bestowed the mantle of king, he will never be allowed to leave the sea. Not that sprites actually can leave. His own father, the most powerful creature below the waves, has spent an eternity under the water, and to Blaine’s knowledge, has never once been on land.

Never once looked up at the sky.

Blaine’s father didn’t have dreams. Or if he did, he stopped dreaming them long ago.

The fairy stops singing. He turns his head to the side, ears pricking up at a faint sound. Blaine drops beneath the surface before the fairy’s eyes sweep his way, sighing in relief that he managed to get away before he could be spotted. He peeks up, letting the tension of the water hold him under as long as it can before he breaks through, but the fairy is gone.

Blaine turns his head side to side, frantically trying to find the mystical being. He goes still and holds his breath, waiting for the fairy to emerge, but there is no sign of him. He couldn’t have been a hallucination, could he? A trick of the light?

No.

He was real.

He drew Blaine out of the water and led him here. He may be made of magic, but that hypnotic creature was definitely real.

Blaine creeps up higher. He looks into the fire, but the fairy dancing around it has disappeared.

“Hey!” he calls out. “Fairy! Where are you?”

“Blaine!” he hears Trent call, trying to keep his volume low but on the verge of panic. “What are you doing!?”

Blaine waves him off. He doesn’t need Trent scaring the fairy away. He wants to coax the fairy back out and then hide again. He needs to see that vision once more before he leaves and never returns.

“Fairy!” he yells, braving a move closer to the flame. “Hey, fairy!”

The flame, all but forgotten by the brazen sprite, flashes brightly in Blaine’s eyes, filling the cove around them with its radiance. Blaine screams, throwing his arms up to protect his face, but the light endures, growing brighter. It turns white, breaking through every gap, weeding into every space. Blaine is blinded, knocked hard into the water, and sinks like a stone.

“Blaine!” Trent calls from his hiding place behind the log. “Blaine!”

When the flash disappears, Trent looks into the secluded pool, but the prince is nowhere to be seen.

“Blaine!”

Trent throws himself over the log and into the water, heedless of the fairy or the fire, and swims down with all speed to the spot he last saw his friend.

From behind fire, back to being a softly crackling flame, the fairy peeks his head out and watches the two figures dive beneath the inky water.

 ***

“Blaine!” Trent turns a full circle, alarmed at being in this strange water alone. It’s too dark, too quiet, brimming with some kind of enchantment that Trent feels prickling along his skin. “Blaine! Where are you? Blaine!”

He spots the prince’s limp body below him, falling through the water, heading down to a trench – a black, bottomless void cut into the ocean floor. Faster Blaine falls, his unconscious body pulled by denser water. Trent swims at full speed after him, beating his arms against the water, trying to keep up. Trent gains on him when Blaine slows, reaching out an arm to grab him, but Blaine swirls out of reach as a current sweeps him away, dragging him further under and fast. Trent kicks his legs furiously, feeling the invisible pull the nearer they get to the gaping hole, as if hands are reaching for them … icy fingers closing around them …

“Blaine!” Trent screams, putting on a burst of energy, a last desperate effort that will either save Blaine or doom them both.

But it seems that whatever god protects water dwellers is siding with them today. The current stops dead and Trent grabs the sea prince under the arms, kicking with all his might to take them far from the fissure.

“Urgh! I’ve got you, Blaine!” he says as he fights up through the water, heading back in the direction of their underwater kingdom. “Don’t worry, your highness! I’ll get us home!”

[stories-mostly]

Stark's Bug

Tony Stark x Son!reader

=Masterlist=

Finally! This took me so long to write like what the hell. Anyway enjoy :)

Words: 2044

Warnings: None

Chapter 18

"Can I help?" You looked over your dads shoulder as he opened the first case and dug through it.

"Don't you have homework? Do that first and then we'll see."

Begrudgingly you sauntered off and got your school stuff. It's not like it's that important anyway, at least how you saw it.

You sat down in your room and solved some easy math, wrote a few sentences about an animal that you liked (Mr. Krabs) and you were done.

You took the papers and wandered towards the lab to show your dad your work.

"What're you doing?"

You almost jumped out of your skin when Phil's voice suddenly sounded beside you.

You totally forgot that he was even there.

"I'm going to show dad my homework so I can help him!"

You held out the papers for him to see. Phil took them gently and looked over them with interest.

"This is all correct. Did you write about the Spongebob character?"

You chuckled and took your homework back.

"No! Mr. Krabs is my crayfish! Do you wanna see him? He's an old boy!" You lead the man to one of the lounge rooms off to the side where Krabs' big tank was housed. The tank had a lot of plants so it was sometimes hard to see him. You looked through the little plants and saw him in one of his big hides, only his head sticking out.

"Look there, that's Mr Krabs. He's already two years old! Crayfish don't live very long in tanks, but when they get treated nicely they can live for up to 8 years! That's older than I am!"

"Really? What do they eat?"

"Everything! That's why he doesn't have any fish friends, he'd just eat them."

"I don't think they eat everything."

"He does."

Phil chuckled but didn't argue further. You talked a little longer until you remembered what you wanted to do before and scarpered off towards the lab.

"Dad I'm done!" You shouted as you pushed the door open. Your dad was sitting in his comfortable chair reading through the books of his dad.

"Great! Show it!"

You handed over your homework and your dad let his eyes wander over it.

"Looks like it's all okay. Grab yourself a notebook and get to reading." He praised and pointed to the open case.

You did as told and sat down on your dads lap to read the smelly old book.

There were some really cool drawings in there, and some math you hadn't seen before. When you showed your dad he said it wasn't anything important. So you read and you read and you got bored. As seven year olds do when a task isn't fun anymore.

You put a piece of paper in the notebook and walked back over to the case.

You dug through it til you found something that looked interesting.

A little model airplane. Your dad said you could play with it so you did. Making loud noises and basically setting up a racetrack in the air.

Meanwhile your dad was back to digging through the case. Another handbook for the trash.

He only peaked your interest again when he put up what looked to you like a camera and put in one of those really long tape rolls you had only seen in TV.

"What're you doing?"

"Setting this up so we can watch what's on these films." He said as he put up some speakers.

"But it says it right here on the case," You said and grabbed the round casing, "these are outtakes! From a commercial? For Stark Expo!"

"Yes yes but we don't know what's said on them until we watch."

You shrugged in agreement and made yourself comfortable in your dads chair.

"Hey! Shoo. That's my seat." He chuckled and made a shooing motion with his hand.

You shook your head and crossed your arms in a teasing manner.

"Well, I guess I'm gonna have to sit on you now." He shrugged and turned around.

"Nooooooo." You said and pushed him away with your hands and feet laughing. You got off the chair and let your dad sit down just to plop yourself on his lap. Leaning into his chest as the clips started playing.

The man on the screen talked on about stark expo until he messed up, swore, and another clip started. He looked very weird in your opinion, not at all like your dad. So that was your grandpa. A person who swears a lot and has a really weird beard.

You settled further into your dads chest as you continued to be fixated on the screen. You had never taken a good look at the old pictures your dad kept. It hadn't interested you at all.

You knew he was dead so there was something entirely weird about seeing him so alive on screen talking about things that still exist today. While he doesn't. And while you knew what death was you couldn't yet grasp the concept of it entirely.

With these sort of existential questions you fell asleep snuggled against your dads chest facing the screen. It took Tony quite a while to notice you being asleep. Too concentrated on the books and screen to see you half snoring with your mouth squashed open and drooling out of the corner of your mouth.

Carefully he picked you up and brought you to bed without waking you at all.

After having delivered you to the bed he went straight back into the lab. Still continuing to search for.... well something.

Phil was on school bus duty as he put it. He was driving this really big black car with tinted windows. Your dad told him the name of your school and said goodbye to you.

A few minutes into the mostly silent car ride Phil started talking.

"So. How do you like school so far? You're in second grade, right?"

"It's okay. I like playing with my friends a lot. But the classes are boring. I already know all of the stuff they talk about."

"Really? Maybe you're a little too smart for second grade then? What are your grades like?"

"Good I think. But my dad says that grades don't actually show how smart someone is."

"That's true. But they're still important."

"For what? I'm only 7."

Phil fell silent. That was true. And so he quickly changed the topic until you were dropped off onto school grounds.

School, as always, was pretty boring. At least the classes were. Your friends and you had played hide and seek on break and in the second break you sat around and talked while eating your food. Mostly about videogames. Jason, who had sort of taken up the leader position really liked that topic. And so you stayed on it.

Your homeroom teacher gave you a note to give to your dad and with that the schoolday ended and you got into Phil's car again.

"How was school today?" He asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Like normal. Mrs. Foster gave me a note for dad."

"Really? What about?"

"I don't know." You shrugged not having read it at

You and Phil guessed what the teacher could've written on the letter all the way until you were home.

Walking into the house you immediately knew something was up as there was a big hole in the floor reaching through to the lab.

You walked down not knowing what to expect, leaving your bag near the hole and Phil to follow in a normal pace.

There definitely was something going on. As there were giant tubes taking up most of the space in the lab.

"What's this?" You asked excited at the thought of a new project.

"Welcome back. This will help us finish what your grandfather started." Tony said ominously but completed his statement soon after. "We're going to create a new element"

You were dumbfounded, you could do that? Just go out there and create a new element? The hell? You knew that people could discover new elements but create them? That's so cool.

Today was a day you decided that your dad was most definitely the coolest person on earth.

"That's so cool! You're the coolest, daddy!" you said and gave him a hug.

Just then Phil entered the lab.

"Can you hand me the spirit level?"

"Yeah!" you said, happily trotting over to the pile of tools laying next to and even under a box. The spirit level was right on top so you didn't have to pull or wedge it out of that mess. Handing your dad the spirit level he placed it on top of the tubes and sighed. Its uneven.

Just then Phil pulled out what looked like a Captain America shield prototype and asked what it was doing here.

"That is exactly what I need." Your dad took the shield and Phil lifted the coil so he could wedge the shield under it.

"Perfectly level. What do you want?"

Just then Phil told the news of his reassignment and your face fell. You liked Phil. Despite not knowing him all that well he was fun to be around. So when he turned to say goodbye to you you hugged him.

"Can you tell me what you were doing when we see each other again?" You asked jutting out your lower lip and drawing your eyebrows together.

"Sure thing sport. I'll send you a postcard." He smiled and with that you let go and let him leave with a wave.

The new element was created not long after Phil had left. It was a great spectacle to watch. The laser had left its mark on the wall and the element shone brightly as it was created.

Your dad took it for testing to the computer and plugged it in.

"This'll take a while do you have any idea what we could do while we wait?" he asked turning to you.

You had just the thing.

After several hours of intense playing with your dolls and action figures your father had to go to New York. Stark Expo and all of that. You would have really loved to go but he said no.

So you had your own little concert in the living room. Singing along loudly to all the songs Jarvis played for you. Pretending you were on a big stage being the best singer to ever live on your world tour.

"LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS! TO DEFEAT thE hunnns"

"This ain't a sCeENe it's a GOD. DAMN. ARMS-RACE"

and so on.

After your throat started to feel a bit sore you stopped and started doing whatever came to mind.

You had recently gotten a bow and technically you're not allowed to shoot it inside the house but who is going to catch you? Jarvis never told on you before and everyone who could be is in New York.

You placed some plastic bottles on a table which stood at the opposite side of the room and shot at them.

First without the force but you got frustrated when you didn't hit anything so you got help in aiming by your little powers and then just shot the arrows without the bow.

All was fun until the doorbell rung. Your stomach dropped. Everyone was in New York. So who was at the door..?

"Who's there Jarvis?" you basically whispered.

"It's a pizza delivery, Mr. Stark had told me to order you some food as he won't be back until late. There is money on the kitchen counter."

"Oh, okay!" you said and ran into the kitchen relieved that it wasn't a bad guy coming for you. You were pretty much out of breath when you reached the door, money in hand.

"Hello! Is this my pizza?" you asked right after having opened the door.

"Uh, yeah a Pepperoni one right?" The man looked a bit taken aback, obviously not having expected a child to Open the door in the kind of house you're in.

"Yes! Thank you!" you took the carton out of his hands after giving him the money.

"You can keep all of it. Have a nice day!" you said and basically slammed the door shut in his face.

You had just given him a hundred dollars for a maybe 15$ pizza. You probably made that guys day and didn't know it.

You ate the pizza and watched a Disney movie before Jarvis told you to go brush your teeth and go to bed. You ignored him and took a bath too. Spending most of your time playing in the water rather than actually cleaning yourself.

You fell asleep around 11 pm on your father's bed. And woke up the next day right next to him. And Pepper on your other side. Huh.

Tags: @shannonr2003 @art-estrange @tater-thotties @tonystanktheirondad @gaylemonshark @emilaa2001 @kindahadeschild @actualcringetm

Have a fantastic day ;)