#like hang on the door ones for ferrets or something just to keep her from flinging it

[stark-raving-romantic]

Since we all agree the Harry Potter is NOT it...here's a fun poll! These are just my picks but if you feel that I've neglected one, tell me and I'll make another poll, the winners can face off or something.

Please reblog to break containment!

Pride and Prejudice: It is a truth universally acknowledged , that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

Northanger Abbey: No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be a heroine.

Anne of Green Gables: Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde's Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof.

The Graveyard Book: There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.

Romeo and Juliet:

"Two households, both alike in dignity

 (In fair Verona, where we lay our scene),

 From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

 Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."

Tuck Everlasting: The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning.

Fahrenheit 451: It was a pleasure to burn.

The Hobbit: In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

A Christmas Carol: MARLEY WAS DEAD, to begin with.

The Secret Garden: When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Far Out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.

Percy Jackson/The Lightning Thief: Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood

[sleepdeprivedshift]

Night gets left alone with his thoughts. It takes him until the clock strikes midnight for him to come back. Right, right.

Lock in, Night. Lock in.

As with every shift, he expects a phone call as he settles in. Almost on cue, on time, it rings and he answers. A recorded message, as he expects, fills the silence in the office.

A voice of a young man plays, with Night leaning over to hear him right with his fingers clicking over cameras and searching for what's available for him.

"Uh hello?" The recording asks, Night thinks the caller sounds younger than him. "I think it's recording. When was the last fucking time someone used one of these things? It’s shitty."

Night could almost make out what's happening behind the scenes. A shuffle of a few papers, and a clear of the throat.

"Well, hello. Welcome to your first night at- at Benjamin’s! My name is—" The phone then makes an unintelligable noise, successfully cutting off his name. Night hits the base of the device with a light smack. Guess some of these technologies are a bit old school. "—I’m here to give you the training to, uh, manage this job."

The caller then tells Night all he needs to know for his shifts. First nights are always easy, they don't tell you that directly but it's always implied. At least he's acquainted with some of these bots already.

Ferris, according to the phone, is just apparently always online. Which, isn't a diss on Night's part, but more of a funny joke. What is he, a smart appliance? (Well yeah he's a robot.) Fuck he gotta be connected to the 'net for, y'know? Fucking... I-pad baby or something.

Night's kidding, though. Mostly. Just enough that Ferris isn't near to hear his thoughts.

But it's easy enough to keep him away at least.

The change in demeanor would've frightened most guards, Night guesses. One hour ago the ferret was almost too eager to meet a new guy in the arcade, and now he's almost too eager to meet the new guy. Face to face. Teeth to skin.

But again, it's easy.

Night plays cues, a little sound he's actually getting fond over, and slows the ferret as much as he could. When he does come around to take a gander at what Night might be at his shift, he greets him with a little shut of the door. He's a little lucky that his ears are good, that knock saves him power and his dead life.

But Ferris isn't the only one he's babysitting tonight, and every other night from now on.

Riley peeks around shyly, but morbidly curious. It's just the door, like Ferris, except he doesn't have to look over her all the damn time. But that's about the end of who he's (currently) familiar with.

Benjamin Bear and Maya Mouse, of who the call so graciously tells him, who they are and what they do. Close the door again when Maya's camera goes dark, play a cue, and just- fucking book it if the main man shows up. Cool, but he takes note of Friedrich's words a bit ago, that they don't leave as much as the other two.

It's still good to keep an eye and ear out.

Especially when he's suddenly forced to just use his ears. Around four to five in morning, the puppet takes over his fucking camera system like a child forcing you to pay attention. Night can see right above its stupid head is a stupider ghost giving him the middle finger as if he couldn't see. He flips the thing off with a disregard whether or not it could see.

Night jingles his keys over the camera the next night just to fuck with it.

Again, it's still easy.

And it stays easy, for the first night until the third. Although they've tried getting funny with him, and he's not sure if he appreciates it.

On the second night, his power almost drains out. (Karma for that boo boo key joke.) Not enough to blackout though. Just barely hanging by five percent to the clock to chime by six in the morning. He had to stay back on the third for an injury that took him by surprise.

Night didn't see it coming, nor did he even hear it. It just- happened so fast. So much that he's still in shock from what just happening, breathing heavily with his back pressed up against his seat, hands shaking as one folds over the other, bleeding over his work clothes and all over these papers that aren't even his.

Ferris got in, plain and simple. Like a ferret jumping out of the grass, and into Night's office. And he moves, of fucking course, lunges over his fucking desk to reach the button. It wasn't quick enough, fucking obviously.

The bastard clawed his hand (almost off), and Night's for sure going to get in trouble for damaging Ferris. His paw pressed the button again before the door could even get down in time, and Night had to kick it as he scrambled for his hand to not get taken out fully. He doesn't keep any flesh lost once he resets, so he has to be careful.

After deciding for a good while whether to keep going, he takes the easy way out and restarts his whole shift all over again. That way, whatever damage he did to the fucking ferret doesn't cut out of his paycheck and ruin whatever good reputation he has as a guard.

This is his first fucking week here. He's not even half way.

He gets through it anyway, (cheater), and keeps going. Door closes, door opens, a cue plays opin a room farthest from the office, a cue plays a little closer, door closes, door opens, Night leaves, Night comes back.

Door closes, door opens.

This shit doesn't even deter the bots either. They started to get more frantic, more active, more... hungry.

It's not the first time Night has had to multitask like a maniac to keep all of his limbs in tact, but fuck, has it been a long time for him to come back to it after calm nights all year long. He almost feels as if he was a newbie again.

But when six am hits again for the fourth time, he's not that concerned anymore. It's the first week jitters, he'll get over it.

-Is what he WOULD SAY IF HE DIDN'T KNOW NO BETTER.

Night loses his momentum again, getting too cocky for getting used to his rhythm of looking over these guys. The power also plays games with him, much like night three, but as much as he tries to save up, it dies on him.

At the worst time too, he's supposed to be out right now to hide from Benjamin. He's shut inside with his only entrance and exit closed down from an encounter with Riley. It's pitch black in this saw trap of a room. Night's flashlight is dead too. Shit, should he start over?

With his newly scarred hand holding over his pendant, giving him his only source of light. Bright blue and wispy. Night's eyes focus on it before his ears perk up at a scraping noise in front of him.

Claws, he can barely see with the small light illuminating it. He can hear mechanical whirring and steady breathing that he can't tell if it's his. Night's not going crazy. The door is opening. Slowly.

It's too dark still to find the hands of his wristwatch. He's not sure if he trusts the digital clock on the desk just yet. The hand prying the door open is still trying. No, not even trying. He's actively, and painfully, slowly pulling this door open.

Night can see Benjamin's eyes search for him through the dark. They meet him easily, with his gifted pendant's light giving him away. His grip tightens on it.

Benjamin looks over at his light, then at Night. He stares back in respect, but he starts to shift himself to his coporeal form. His feet don't touch the ground as he mentally prepares to start over.

The door's almost snapped open halfway, and Night holds his breath. To his luck, Benjamin does too. His eyes look up at him, and for a brief moment, Night could see them.

Another pair of eyes behind animatronic made ones, almost the same as the one behind the puppet's. A shine on Benjamin's eyes, ghost blue light reflecting on the plastic ball. Ghosts stare at one another.

Night doesn't believe in anything above or below him, just that nobody deserves to be trapped in a life they can't escape. But for a brief second, he simply prays that he could make it another day with all his limbs to learn more. Explore, find, and eventually talk to these spirits.

Because fuck, if any soul deserves to stay on this world for long rather than pass on, it should be him.

Something answers his prayers though. A chime, a familiar tune playing in the room as both he, and Benjamin, look down on the digital clock. Six in the morning, and his wristwatch a minute late. Maybe he should trust this clock.

In respect to the silent agreement between all animatronics, or a built in safety program, Benjamin backs away from the door and he walks away, leaving Night backed up against the wall to drop onto the floor in relief. His limbs physical and in tact with the solid world around him once more.

He doesn't think about how close he's gotten to dying again in the arcade because he's slipped up, or how he's lost his edge to keeping everything in check. No, he thinks about Benjamin, who's in Benjamin. Then whoever's in the Prize Puppet. And all other hidden souls that haven't gotten the chance to slip up the same way he has.

To uncover themselves unknowingly to a living ghost. That's fascinating. He's hooked, definitely.

When Friedrich comes in the later morning to let him out, Night doesn't open his mouth about what ne saw back there. There's no point in saying it. After all, he already knows the older man doesn't believe in it, or rather chooses not to. He was already dismissing an assumption that Night didn't even have.

What he does tell him though, is that they need a new door. As well as he's coming back on Monday.

Congrats Benjamin's Arcade, you've gained a new part of the crew. And he's not going to fuck around to find more of it.

[theflowerofthecommonwealth]

Power Armor Punch Part Sixty Five

Teshteal: *notices the jealous ferret* Someone's a little grumpy pants. *opens Gilbert's cage and picks up the annoyed noodle. Playfully wiggles him back and forth* Hello mister grumpy noodle.

Gilbert: (A very jealous wiggly noodle, his eyes are completely focused on his Joyce as he licks his nose and shoots the two puppies the stink eye. The heck is she doing holding two little sausages that just cry, eat, and poop everywhere all day?!? Obviously he’s the better and the finest of the squiggly bunch, he’s the one who’s always been there for Joyce when she was having a difficult day and crying. It should be him cuddling her right now!!)

Joyce: (Too busy with the two little puppies to notice that her pet ferret is envious that she’s giving other creatures attention instead of holding him)

Nick: *nods and picks her up, gently supporting her from the backs of her thighs like he's holding a toddler* It's alright. I'm here.

Jasmine: (Wraps her arms tightly around her Dads neck and clings to him once again like a baby koala with a pitiful whimper. She opens her mouth to tell him about her horrible nightmares and the terror she felt from it and his sudden disappearance, but quickly closes her eyes instead as she hides her face in the crook of his neck and trembles)

Ma: (Sits up from the bed now that’s she no longer has to hold Jas, taking another tissue to wipe the waterworks from the teen off her before buttoning up her nightdress) “I’m afraid she had several nightmares that kept her up, it was a bit difficult to keep her calm throughout the night.” (Gives the girl a somber look as she stands)

Nick: *somberly* That's been the norm around here lately. *rubs the small of her back* Wish there was something I could do to make them go away.

Teshteal: *catches the look* Oh, you're a jealous noodle! Jealous little baby boy! *to Joyce* I think your son wants your attention.

Joyce: (Looks up from the bed, smirking at the two) “Ah, someone has let the green eyed monster take control. Well then, he’s gonna hate me later when-... EW-! STOP!��� (Swats at her face when the puppies both jump up to lick the inside of her mouth when she speaks, sputtering and spitting into her arm) “That’s disgusting!” (Rises from the bed and runs out of the room to go wash her mouth in the bathroom) “I'll be right back!”

Puppies: (Try to follow her but are too afraid to jump off the bed so they just wiggle their little butts while yapping after her)

Teshteal: *jumps when Joyce yells at the puppies. He holds Gilbert close to his chest protectively and just stares at the door, every sense on high alert*

Jasmine: (Nuzzles as close as she can to her father, focusing the gentleness of his rubs as she sniffles)

Ma: “Mhm, not much of a surprise there. PTSD induced nightmares can be tricky to work through, especially with extreme cases such as hers.” (Leans down to grab Jasmine’s dress from off the floor) “Any idea why she decided to take this off? I figured it was because she was hot, but she refused when I offered to get a lighter set of pajamas.” (Airs it out, walking over to hang it up on he clothes rack she brought in next to the other coats and shirts she had washed and ironed)

Nick: I'm not sure. She has a tendency to deny herself nice things. Must be another symptom of her condition.

Gardio: Alright. After I connect this wire, I need you to stay as still as possible so I can install your new armor correctly.

Lucille: *nods* Okay!

Gardio: *connects the wire to her hand, soldering it in place*

Lucille: *eyes widen at the feeling of having a properly working arm again. If she concentrates she can get the blade to pop out just just above the wrist at the back* It works!

Gardio: Yes, and now for the armor. Retract your blade, please? *holds a piece of plating up with a slot cut into the side*

Lucille: *closes her eyes and gets her blade to go back into her arm*

Ma: “That sounds about accurate to how she acted prewar times, but that was usually for the benefit of one of her friends or siblings.” (Reaches into the mini fridge below the nightstand and pulls out one of the baby bottles with water, placing it on top just in case)

Jasmine: (Coughs and then chokes on a sob, clawing at Nicks shirt as she tightens her grip on him)

Ma: (Starts freshening up the room by opening the blinds to let some sunlight in and picking up anything that was dropped on the floor)

Gilbert: (Very confused noodle baby as to why he’s being held so tightly by the random guy who now faintly smells like his Joyce, but whatever…)

Joyce: (Quickly washes out her mouth in the sink then runs back into her room, trying to keep a serious face while glaring at the two puppies) “We need to work on boundaries���”

Puppies: (Toppling over each other on the bed, their little tails wagging even faster when they see she returns)

Joyce: (Can’t keep a straight face and she starts laughing again, not noticing her boyfriends expression)

Teshteal: *scooting back further on the bed with Gilbert still held tightly to his chest. He keeps staring at Joyce warily. He wraps his tail around himself*

Joyce: (Walks over to pet the two sausage babies, looking up and finally noticing Teshteal backing away and his expression. Her smile disappears and her face gets riddled with worry as she steps back towards the door) “Oh, what’s wrong…?”

Gardio: *starts fastening the armor to her arm and hand with pliers and bolts*

Nick: *pats her back sweetly* It's alright, kiddo...

Jasmine: (Shifts and whines with discomfort and fear from her nightmare and the pain from her wounds, the tears dripping down her face dampening Nicks shirt)

Ma: (To Nick as she pulls out another box of tissues) “Detective Chapel was kind enough to hold her while I briefly went downstairs to get somethings done. He did a wonderful job at keeping Rosie calm.” (Rubs her hands together) “I ought to go check up on everyone and get started with the day, do you need anything before I go? I’m sure Donny will be here soon.”

Nick: *sits in the rocking chair, dabbing away more of Jas's tears with tissues* If you have some more formula, I'm sure Rosie could use a meal. Otherwise, just keep that old lullaby playing. *kind smile at the older woman. He's not at all surprised at Gardio being able to keep her calm. The man was a big softy to any kid that was brought in to the station for safe keeping after a nasty domestic disturbance*

Jasmine: (Whines in complaint when she hears about the baby bottle again, hiding her face away in Nicks shoulder while refusing to be cradled like an infant as she clings to him)

Ma: (Nods and pulls out the baby formula bottle she had made the previous night and hands it to Nick, patting Jas’s back) “Here you go, Dad. Your little one needs all the nutrients she can get if she wants to feel better.” (Warmly smiles back at the two)

Jasmine: (Huffs in response, biting down on her tongue)

Ma: (Frowns at the girls stubbornness, remembering how she struggled in her sleep) “Maybe give Rosie some time to wind down first before feeding her.”

Nick: I think you're right. *sets the bottle aside for now*

Teshteal: *blinks, trying to reorient himself. Simply but quietly* You yelled.

Joyce: (Presses back against the door) “Not at you, at the dogs. And I meant it in a playful sense...” (Clasps her hands together, tucking her hair behind her ears nervously) “I’m sorry if I scared you...”

Teshteal: *realizes how nervous she is and gets off the bed. He walks over, still holding Gilbert to his chest* I'm sorry... It's me. I'm a jumpy hypervigilant mess that gets scared at even the most playful yells. It's a wonder I've lived this long being this scared.

Joyce: (Looks her boyfriend over with worried eyes, nodding her head after a moment and relaxes) “I was jumpy at first too when I first left the Institute…” (Reaches over to scratch Gilbert’s fuzzy head) “It’s okay, it takes some time to adjust.”

Gardio: *getting the tiny bits of fingercasing is difficult because it's so small. His hands may have less mass now but they're still pretty large*

Lucille: *has a smaller hand so she has to help him with attaching things.

Pirate: (Stretches out on the bed next to Donny in his room with a loud puppy yawn, forcing him further against the wall)

Donovan: (Mumbles with annoyance in his sleep, shifting to a more comfortable position while remaining pillowless)

Ma: (Gives them both a nod before leaving the room, heading into the attic to check on her other guests. She quietly stands at the top of the stairway with a small smile, not wanting to disturb the father and daughter working together)

Jasmine: (Whimpers and sniffles at her previous night terrors, feeling sicker and weaker by the minute as the repeating words drill into her head. She suddenly lifts her head so she can look directly at Nick, keeping her arms around him. She stares at the old synth while remaining silent and expressionless, her head tilted to one side inquisitively like she’s trying to read him. Or perhaps she’s trying to make a gateway straight into his soul with her haunting doll eyes that give a crystal clear view into her own tormented soul)

Nick: *catches that look and gives her a kind reassuring smile* I'm here, doll. I'm here. *gently strokes her hair with his good hand* Love ya, kiddo.

Gardio and Lucille: *both too focused on their work to notice Ma.*

Lucille: You've gotten pretty good at robot modifications, Dad. And here I thought you only knew how to fix cars.

Gardio: Cars aren't all that different under the hood, sweety. Besides, you built that centry bot and robot build station in less than a few hours. I don't think you realize how impressive that is.

Lucille: *rolls her eyes* Please. That's nothing. Factories built robots in seconds-

Gardio: It usually took a skilled robot expert an entire day to cobble a protectron together back in the day.

Lucille: They were able to take their time, too. I don't have that luxury, Dad.

Teshteal: I don't know... it's been over a hundred years and I'm only just now feeling "normal."

Joyce: (Thinks it over with herself, trying to come up with the right words) “Well... How long have you been in good living conditions? That plays a big role in how you heal from trauma...”

Gilbert: (Wiggles in Teshteal’s arms, trying to reach for his Joyce now that she’s close. Obviously she’s upset about something, so now he’s needed as an emotional support raccoon scarf)

Ma: (Quietly leaves and heads into her sons room, carefully peeking her head in. She crosses her arms when she sees his current sleeping situation that can’t be too comfy) “Pirate.”

Pirate: (Lazily lifts her head with a low woof, like she’s responding to Ma with a “what” like she isn’t taking up all the bed space along with most of the blanket and pillow)

Ma: (Shoos Pirate off the bed, tenderly lifting up Donny and sets him down on the center of his bed on his pillow. She drapes the blanket back over him, tucking it in snuggly)

Jasmine: (Gets a little glimmer in her dead, dull eyes that are still dripping tears as she raises her hand to gently run her fingers down the side of Nick's cheek and neck, feeling the rough out texture of what makes up his skin. Her eyes slowly glaze over the cracks and wear and tear on the synthetic skin on his face and neck, blinking at the missing patches that expose his metal skeleton and the wires that run through his body. She’s not looking at him with judgment or with disgust, more with childlike curiosity than anything if one can even read her true emotions through her almost soulless deadpan expression)

Nick: *not changing his facial expression as she explores his face. His joints in his jaw can get pretty pinchy*

Gardio: *sighs defeatedly* I just think you're very good at what you do, sweetheart. Even if you don't think so. *pauses to pet her head*

Teshteal: *lets the noodle go to his owner so he can do his job* A day or so... I wandered a lot for most of my life then I lived in a dumpster next to my childhood home. It was cozy but it was also kind of... dirty.

Gilbert: (Immediately snuggles under his Joyce’s neck when he’s handed to her, sniffing her over to check that she’s alright)

Joyce: (Holds her fuzzy scarf close, listening to her boyfriend speak with more worry glistening in her eyes when she hears that he’s only been living “normally” for a day) “And you were alone out there….” (Reaches out to take his hand)

Teshteal: *doesn't stops her but his grip isn't tight. He's lost in his thoughts again* Yes... not that anyone would want me around. I'm too annoying and stupid. Everyone leaves or gets sick of me eventually.

Jasmine: (After a moment she takes Nick’s exposed metal hand in one of hers while keeping the other on his cheek, running her fingers over the frame of his palm and up his forearm where the skin had probably been torn off long before she showed up, blinking in thought. Next she takes his covered hand and intertwines her much smaller and softer fingers with his, holding them up slightly. She stares at their joined hands and the one on his face with a tilted head like she’s examining the vast contrast of his palish white skin and her warmer golden honey tone)

Nick: *gently nods at her holding his hands*

Jasmine: (Releases his hand and goes back to feeling his face and neck with both of her hands, tilting her head to the other side as her inquisitive eyes study the largest tears in his neck and forehead. She carefully traces her fingers over them, lightly brushing over his metal skull and jaw and the missing patches in his neck. If she was fully aware of what she was doing or even where she was, she’d apologize because she just started touching Nicks face and neck while staring intently at him out of the blue without at least asking first. But she doesn’t look a bit ashamed as she takes in a full profile of Nicks unique features, still just full of childlike curiosity but she’s not saying anything as her brain defaults to the basics of what she knows. It was another thing the vault taught her, to not ask questions, especially when you could figure out the answers for yourself. Better that everyone think you know nothing when you in fact know everything)

Joyce: (Gently squeezes his hand, looking at him with the most caring and sweet eyes) “Hey... I promise I’ll never just leave you like that. That's just horrible...” (Moves to pull him in close so she can comfort him)

Teshteal: You haven't seen me at my most insufferable. You'll see why people abandon me.

Lucille: *still helping her dad with her hand*

Nick: *wondering why she's doing this* You act like you've never seen my face before. We both know that's not true.

Jasmine: (Looks directly into his eyes as she slowly blinks without answering, her hand on his neck moving down to take his good hand once more and lock their fingers together. She leans forwards to affectionately press her forehead against Nick’s while her thumb strokes his cheek, her hand squeezing his as she closes her eyes) (Quietly and hoarsely) “Dad.” (Says it like she’s knighting him a title despite having calling him her father for the past few days out loud and even longer in her own head)

Joyce: (Puts her arm around her boyfriends shoulder, setting down Gilbert on the bed so she can cup his cheek and lift his face to her) "Teshteal, love..."

Gilbert: (Offended that he was just tossed onto the bed like nothing, his mouth dropping open. He tries to jump and make a fuss about it but he gets attacked by two mini sausages who see him as a loooong version of themselves)

Teshteal: *his sad, doubtful, and fearful eyes glisten with tears as he looks up at her beautiful face. How can she possibly love an unlovable monster like him?*

Nick: *that worries him but he's not showing it. Reassuringly* I'm here, doll...

Jasmine: (New tears well up in her eyes as her bottom lip trembles, her face briefly filling with pain and fear from her thoughts, but gets followed by recognition and deep fondness for her father. She lets go of his hand just so that she can wrap both of her arms tightly around Nick and hide her face in the crook of his neck) “Daddy…” (Just needed to cement who he was to her in her own fractured mind, make sure she doesn’t go on and rewrite him as anything less. Since she has no grip on reality, he's really the only person keeping her in it right now)

Joyce: (Slowly starts rubbing his shoulder, her emerald eyes sparkling with adoration) “If I can’t love you when you are at your worst, then I can’t say I truly care about you at all...”

Gilbert: (Squeaks in annoyance as he’s trampled and overwhelmed with puppy feet and kisses)

Teshteal: *a tear falls from his eyes. Voices scream that he doesn't deserve this kindness. This pure acceptance. That he's lucky Gardio himself put up with him before the war. He'll mess this up. He always does. She doesn't deserve that-*

Nick: *rubs circles in her back gently* It's okay, kiddo...

Jasmine: (Her mind blares and shrieks louder and adds more haze to her vision, but she just cuddles up closer with a small whimper. She then carefully rearranges herself so she’s cradled in Nick’s lap like a baby with her arms still around him, nuzzling back up against his chest with a small hum of content at the familiar scent of cigarette along with the sound of his inner machinery whirling. All signs that she is in the warm safety that is Dad)

Ma: (Downstairs warming herself some breakfast, frowning when she remembers that the med room is probably bloody again and is in need of cleaning along with the top of the lighthouse. They’ll have to replace the glass up there, which means ordering new ones from the main farm unless they can find some all the way out here)

Joyce: (Wipes the tear of his face) “And I mean it. I care about you as you are, Teshteal. Flaws and all.” (Opens her arms wide to offer a full hug with a gentle and warm smile) “Come here, if it’ll make you feel better…”

Teshteal: *carefully and shyly approaches to give his girlfriend a hug. Whispers* I always ruin good things... it's only a matter of time... *rests his head on her shoulder nervously*

Joyce: (Encases Teshteal in a tight embrace, slowly rubbing the back of his head and neck as she sways from side to side) “And what could you possibly do to ruin this? I already said I love you as you are, so what could change that?”

Gilbert: (Squeaks in annoyance on the bed, shooting daggers at the puppies that are keeping him from running back to his Joyce)

Puppies: (Have no clue that the strange noodle dog finds them ti be a nuisance, they just wanna play)

Nick: *just keeps reassuringly rubbing her back and shoulders to calm her down*

Jasmine: (Sniffles on some tears, briefly turning away from her Dad to cough in her arm before she returns to cuddling as close to him as she can. She would hide in his coat if he was wearing one to help her feel closer and more secure, but she instead just grips onto his shirt while taking deep breaths)

Teshteal: You have no idea what kind of monster they were turning me into... You saw those mutants. I barely broke a sweat. It only takes one specific word to make me snap and mindlessly kill every last living thing within a 100-mile radius. *closes his eyes tearfully* I was made to infiltrate, torture, and kill. All it would take is for someone to say the right word in the right way for me to hurt you. *grips her shirt tightly* You're making a deal with the devil by choosing to love me.

Joyce: (Gently tilts her boyfriends face so he’s looking up at her, her emerald green eyes staring back at him thoughtfully) “But I know why you killed those mutants, it wasn’t for your own personal gain. And if you were to ever hurt me, I know it would never be on purpose. So what kind of monster are you guilty of being?”

Nick: *nods. Softly* Easy, doll... easy...

Jasmine: (Shifts uncomfortably, then raises her head to look at Nick with teary eyes. She makes the “T” sign and twists her hand side to side to sign that she needs to use the bathroom)

Nick: *nods* Alright. Read you loud and clear. *stands and takes her to the bathroom. He leaves the door gapped so he can keep an eye on her without invading her privacy*

Teshteal: *sniffs* The kind that finds joy in the kill. I do enjoy it in a sick sense. There's a... a rush. Raiders used to enjoy throwing me against feral ghouls and all sorts of things they could fight... including other people. And I loved every second of it until I realized what exactly I had done. You shouldn't trust me. *quietly* No one should...

Joyce: (Lightly taps the bottom of his chin) “I’ll be honest, I have a hard time believing that you really enjoyed that… Not after I’ve seen how kindhearted you are. And you say that you eventually realized what you were doing and stopped? That’s better than continuing killing…”

Jasmine: (Leans on the sink for balance and catches a warm sun beam on her face from the window above, making her stop with wide eyes. She feels a prickle on her skin that almost feels like a light buzzing massage, wheels turning in her head when it registers what this is and her mind muffles out everything else. She quickly uses the toilet and washes her hands, then snatches a towel from under the sink and wraps it over her shoulders to cover up as she carefully climbs out of the window and up onto the roof without making much noise, being small and nimble enough to do so and devoted hard enough to reach the sunlight that it becomes her primary goal, which means she temporarily forgets about her previous fears about being separated from Nick and the pain from her wounds)

Lucille: *testing her dexterity in her newly modified arm and hand* Wow. Nick would barely recognize his old arm. *making her hand into a first* You did good, Dad.

Gardio: *proud smile* Wouldn't have been able to do it without you...

Nick: You good in there? *checks and notices the window's open. Wordlessly rushes to it and looks outside to find her. He turns and leans his back out of the window to look up and catches a brief glimps of her feet* What is she doing up there? *climbs out himself*

Jasmine: (Doing her best to only let her knees, feet, and hands touch the dirty roof as she crawls to get away from the ledge, hissing through her teeth with the pain moving brings. She looks around and finds that a platform with a staircase that leads back to the ground was added to the top of the roof, her first though being that it’s a lookout point but then she sees that a double reclining sun lounger has been placed on the platform, making a nice place to relax and enjoy the breeze or the sun)

Nick: *from afar, but he's raised the volume of his voice so she can hear* Decided to get some fresh air, hm? Why didn't you just say so? *isn't all to opposed to her climbing on the roof- she's pulled more dangerous skits than this. Besides if it isn't hurting her, then why should he stop her*

Teshteal: ...I only stopped when they were dead. *wants her to realize just who she's holding. A monster. A demon. A bloodthirsty beast.*

Joyce: (Still swaying him lovingly side to side as she starts to pet his hair again to comfort him) “And how did you feel about that after it happened? Has it changed to how you feel now?”

Ma: (Finished her food and is cleaning the med room once again, scrubbing away any blood that was dribbled onto the floor or on the cot)

Jasmine: (Snaps out of it at the sound of Nick's voice and stops crawling, turning around to face him. She sits on her knees while she blinks to process her commanding thoughts that had almost completely taken a hold without her noticing. She points to the sun, then to the platform with lounge chair to try and help express and sort her jumbled mind) “…..…” (Suddenly whimpers loudly as she holds out her arms to her Dad to be picked up when it hits her that she is currently in extreme pain because of her wounds and at the fact that she's outside while only in her undies and a towel that's draped around her shoulders. A very stupid decision on her part, but she wanted to bask in the sunshine)

Nick: Okay, Rosie. *nods and scoops her up. He takes her to the lounge chairs and holds her in his lap so she can enjoy the sunlight*

Jasmine: (Raises her face to the warm sun, humming softly as she relaxes in her Dads arms completely and the fear melts away. It’s warm out today, winter finally kicking the bucket and letting spring arrive. She ends up tossing aside the towel so she can feel more of the suns rays on her, although she’s still covered in bandages)

Teshteal: I felt like I was some uncontrollable beast and now I'm not sure if it's even safe to be close to people...

Joyce: (Frowns a little) “But everybody needs somebody in their life… Besides, you seem pretty tame to me. If you were so uncontrollable, would you have hurt the girl for attacking Donny upstairs? For putting me in danger?”

Teshteal: Not necessarily for hurting him- but if the circumstances were right, the programming might push me to do so since she's a higher ranked soldier. Even though we're safeguarding each other.

Joyce: (Blinks a little in confusion) “I’m sorry, I’m a little lost. Higher rank…? Safeguarding? And higher ranked soldier? She’s a little girl.”

Nick: *glad this is soothing her. It is pretty nice out for a change*

Jasmine: (Starts peeling off her bandages around her waist and chest, working a little too harshly as she’s done in the past because she can’t really coordinate her motor skills properly. Her wounds are still aching like mad and some are even still bleeding a little when she moves)

Teshteal: That vault made soldiers out of anyone who had potential. The best ones were ranked highest but even that life was torturous. It only proved how physically capable you were of taking someone else's life. They tried to condition us to be predispositioned to want to kill each other. So... if it weren't for the fact we're free of them and that we've decided to safeguard each other, one of us would be dead by now.

Joyce: (Eyes widen even more and she clutches Teshteal tighter) “But you don’t actually want to kill her even if you’re conditioned to, you saved her. And she doesn’t want to kill you either…”

Nick: *grabs her hands to stop her* I don't know why you want to peel these off so badly this time, but you need to stop.

Jasmine: (Whines in complaint like a toddler, shaking her head vigorously but she doesn’t struggle like usual. She tries to point to the sun while her hands are restrained, then at the cuts on her body like she’s trying to say there’s a connection between the two)

Nick: *wonders if the sun helps heal her wounds* Alright. But you're gonna have to let me take them off for you. I'm worried you might make the wounds worse. *starts gently removing the bandages* Just don't start clawing at yourself, alright?

Jasmine: (Nods and calms down, putting down her hands to let him take off the bandages. She stares up at Nick with childlike eye, keeping her focus on him so she doesn’t see the words she carved into her own skin)

Teshteal: I can't say if she doesn't want me dead but I certainly don't want her to die. *sadly* If our programming overrides our want to protect each other then I can't say either of us are safe.

Joyce: (Pulls back slightly to look at her boyfriend) “…Have you discussed this with the rest of your group? What to do if things get out of hand?” (Takes a deep breath) “And can she actually kill you if she wanted…?”

Teshteal: Nick has the code words- he's one of the ones with authority over both of us. I assume he can stop us if things get out of hand. *quietly* I haven't told Dio, yet... but I don't think he needs to know. *even quieter as he looks away from Joyce, remembering how inferior he is to Jas* Nick might not be fast enough to use them if she tries to kill me. I'll probably die first...

Nick: *very carefully removes the bandages for her, revealing the wounds to the sun*

Jasmine: (Sighs with relief when the bandages are finally gone, she felt like a mummy with all of them tightly wrapped around her. A very uncomfortable and restricted mummy. She stretches out with an adorable sleepy kitten yawn, slowly running her hands over herself as she hums sweetly again at the sunbeams hitting her terribly marred skin. Pretty soon, the prickling that she felt on her face starts to spread to wherever areas are under direct sunlight, a sign that her boosted healing enhancements are starting to work)

Joyce: (Squeezes his hand, again remembering how Jasmine had fought Donny and had the upper hand even when she was horribly injured, and her brother had said she wasn’t trying to hurt him. It frightens her a little to think that the girl is capable of doing more) “…That “might” doesn’t sound like something we can just leave hanging in the air. Not if safety is a concern.” (Gently cups Teshteals face, deep concern in her eyes)

Teshteal: You don't understand... there's nothing that CAN be done once she's targeting you that way. If she can't control herself and goes in for the kill, no one can stop her. It's a lost cause, either way.

Joyce: (Almost fearfully) “There has to be something...”

Nick: There. Better? *small smile down at the teen*

Jasmine: (Nods her head as she continues to stretch out, her eyes sparkling a little. She doesn’t normally use this method of healing as it requires her to strip down to her underwear or the equivalent of a two piece bathing suit then lay outside completely exposed in direct sunlight. Considering she’s normally dressed in layers and doesn’t even like removing her jacket when outside or in the presence of others, this usually would send splitting alarm bells in her head. Besides, why would she want to heal wounds that she purposely made to bring her relieving pain. But right now she has Dad watching over her and no one can see her up here unless they climb a tree so she feels completely safe, and she feels a little more compelled to heal her wounds this time around)

Ma: (Wonders if Nick would like to give his daughter some bone broth, its highly nutritious and should be easy on the girls stomach. She heads back to the guestroom to ask, finding them both gone. Puzzled she starts searching the house, checking everywhere except Joyce's room. When she finds no sign of them she heads into the attic and taps on the wall) “Do either of you two happen to know where Detective Valentine went? Both him and Rosalinda are missing from the room.”

@lucilleandherrobots

[zwy01]

Izar doodles!!!

Doodle compilation of my noblesse oc from my Millennium AU, Izar Siriana! After Zarga died without an heir, Izar was born from the air and earth of Lukedonia as the new Siriana heir. Izar is a massive astronomy & mathematics enthusiast, and a giant nerd in general lol.

For my entire nextgen lineup, please refer to my pinned post! Now onto the drawings…

1) Izar portrait!!!! I love painting my beloved nerd boi. His hair is messy because he almost never pays attention to it, and you can almost always find crumbs and… partially eaten snacks poking out from it. Ehhh. If you point it out to him he’ll just say ooh its a nice surprise, he can eat it later on, meanwhile it can keep sitting there haha so convenient amiright. (Plz dont) And… he’s always smiling. Happy boi. Probably thinking about building his 1628th telescope right now. Also his glasses are totally fake and he just wears them because he thinks they complete the “scientist” aesthetic. Humans sure are trendy aren’t they?

2) Izar is a HUGE junk food lover. Chips, cookies, soda, cheap powdery coffee, anything that’s junk by human standards really. Especially the coffee part. He drinks it not because he needs it but because human scientists do that. It’s fashionable!! If only he could get his hands on Luzia’s eyeshadow, he would’ve given himself dark eye circles lol. Anyways he’s always snacking on something, and shares his snacks with his extremely smart pet ferret & lab assistant Charles. Charles can understand everything he says and often fetches his stuff for him. ps Izar sometimes forgets to clean his hands especially his fingers after a snack session. Consequently his books and notes often have greasy fingerprints on then haha.

3) Izar is basically a neet but he does hang out with his friends sometimes!! He’s very good friends with Ludis’ daughter and the Mergas heir, Susanna. These two have a lot to bond over. Susa is also the one who supplies Izar’s massive, ever-growing pantry. For a super snack enthusiast like him, his snack-eating speed is actually inferior to Susa’s snack-supplying speed. Oh, what will he do without Susa haha. He always looks forward to deliveries from her household. Some random Mergas clan member tasked with delivery will be knocking on Izar’s lab and he’d be at the door in an instant. “Excuse me, Izar-nim? Susanna-nim asked me to deliver—” “YESYESYES IT’S ME!!!” And Susa, while she doesn’t entirely understand the topics to a complex level, loves to listen to Izar’s mini lessons on space and stars. They have great synergy lol.

4) just cute chibi Izar sitting on a planet lol. He loves everything space related. Precious boi and his hobby needs to be protected at all costs.

5) Izar has a massive crush on Jia. Jia has no interest in “meteor-whats” or those “fancy rocks” but she joke-promises Izar that she would help him collect these “rocks” and bring them to him if he can provide her with a satisfying spar. Girl just loves her exercise. Izar is a neet but his fighting skills are no joke so they spar, to both of their surprise Jia is happy and keeps her promise. Her bringing him meteorites makes his inner nerd explode with joy. Their casual back and forths with the spars and meteorite deliveries extends over the years and Izar falls for Jia. Jia really just loves to fight though. Izar hasn’t confessed his feelings yet, but if he does it’ll be a straight-on marriage proposal with a six pack soda. Ehhh maybe thats jumping too far ahead at once. If he does he should bring a grill lol, girl doesn’t like sweet stuff. Jia doesn’t know he likes her.

6) While Izar likes Jia, Kaelestis Blerster, son of Karias and Rael, likes Izar. Izar doesn’t know Kaekae likes him. It all started out when Kaekae became a regular at Izzy’s lab (the lab is always open to any guests he just almost never gets any lol) to get a breather from the uptight life he usually lives. Parenting Karias (yes, not the other way around) is always… sigh, difficult. In Izzy’s lab is where Kaekae truly feels at ease. Listing to Izzy ramble about space and formulas, snacking on junk, being handed plushies and toys… Kaekae feels like he’s being taken care of. It’s really refreshing. It’s his safe space, he finally found it; it was right there in Izzy’s lab all along. That’s how he falls for the giant nerd boi. He knows Izzy likes Jia, so he doesn’t confess his feelings… yet. Though he should. For right now, they’ll just be best friends… yep, that’s enough right…?

7. Susa is even more entertained once she finds out about her peers’ crushes. Oh ho their love lives are gonna be a ride. So entertaining. Meanwhile her brother and parents wonder why she’s snickering to herself. You won’t get it even if she explains, trust me.

[shatteredfears-arch]

k i’m online now, but in trying to condition my pet cats w the abandoned cat child i rescued last week (literally on other sides of the wall, not even NEAR each other that much) salem decided to gouge into my arms so THATS great and now I put salem in the detention cage while the new child goes into her other room to relax bc now shes freaked out bc my daughter decided to be a bitch. 

on the upside, my original cat aka the nakey l/oki is having a great time seeing her sister in trouble. literally keeps walking in front of the cage, stealing her treats, throwing htings at the cage. she’s having a great time. salem’s pissed but ig i spoiled her too much growing up and i really dont know how to make her stop, bc at this rate even if i don’t keep the stray, I can’t just let salem get away with gouging mommy’s arms open bc htats rUDE

[dr4cking]

BIRTHDAY SMUT

Birthday Boy.

masterlist taglist

draco malfoy x reader | smut | fluff |

a/n : we love spoiling our ferret boy and thank you for requesting! <3

y/n look up at the clock hanging on her bedroom wall. its 12am sharp, confirming the next date has arrived, which means that it's June 5 now.

she was feeling excited and nervous as she finishes wrapping up the present that she will give to one of her best friends, draco malfoy.

they had been best friends for long years, it started in 2nd year and became inseparable since then and now they both are already graduated.

as they grew up they often flirted with each other, always got jealous when the other see another person.

they both knew that they always wanted to be 'more'. the sexual tension between the two is becoming too hard to ignore, but they were too scared to ruin their friendship.

she stood in front of her mirror, taking the last look at herself. she decided to dress up, it was a special day after all.

she wore a dark green satin dress because draco's favorite color is green and paired it up with silver heels. she had decided to put black lingerie underneath her dress incase 'it' happens.

she had asked her parents to let her stay in malfoy manor today so she can celebrate draco's birthday. and because their parents know each other too, they let her stay there.

she swishes her wand and in a second she was apparated to malfoy manor hall, it was really dark but she still managed to found his bedroom, she knocks softly on his door not wanting to wake his parents.

the door opened, revealing the blonde-haired guy who stood straightly with a genuine smile on his face.

draco is wearing his usual black suit which always making him look hotter than he already is.

she feels her heart will going to jump out of its place at any second when she cant take her eyes off of him.

"you came," he said as he greeted and taking her hand in his guiding her in. they both sit at the edge of his bed.

"of course, i wouldnt miss my best friend's birthday, making sure i was the first celebrating your birthday." she laughed softly making draco chuckle.

"you look so beautiful in that dress, love. green really suits you.”

draco once again take her hand in his and brought it to his lips and kiss it, making her cheeks heated at his action and the nickname he just called her.

"here, happy birthday draco." she placed the gift in his hand.

his eyes lit up and he immediately opens it, making y/n getting more nervous waiting for his reaction.

"oh merlin! this is so cool y/n!! i love it so much!"

he took out the black ring that had a snake symbol carved in it from its place and put it on his ring finger, taking a look and admiring it.

"i’m so glad you like it, draco! i wasnt sure what to get you then i remembered you've been looking at this ring when we passed the store last week"

"thank you so much y/n!! you dont have to do this i appreciate it so much, you're the best thing that ever happened to me, love."

he pulls her by her waist and kisses her forehead, thanking her.

no one has ever treated him like the way she does and he's so grateful to have someone like her in his life.

"aww stop it draco or i will cry in front of you now" she laughs, nudging his elbow making him laughs too but he suddenly stopped and looking at his lap.

"whats wrong, dray? are you okay? did i do something wrong?" she asks worriedly tilting his chin making him looking up at her.

"i'm afraid that i have to say this, y/n..” he takes a big sigh looking into her eyes.

“what is it? tell me i wont judge, draco”

“i- i think i’m in love with you, y/n. no! i know that i am in love with you, i have always been."

he inhales deeply and broke the eye contact, looking anywhere but her eyes, knowing his sudden confession would make him lost her this instant.

"draco, look at me" y/n said as she tilts his chin again making him look at her.

"oh god.. i’m sorry y/n i shouldnt have said that! i was just- its just i- i cant hold it anymore y/n. i need to get this out of my chest and now look, i just ruined us"

"oh draco.. you're not ruining anything, quite the opposite actually, you just made the right move, i'm in love with you too, idiot, always have been."

she chuckles and cupped his face in her hands, pressing both of their foreheads, looking at each other causing a shy smile to appear back on his face.

he tilted his head and wasting no time to smashed his lips on hers, kissing her passionately, showing her how much he loves her which she gladly returned with the same passion.

he put one of his hands on her throat and the other on her waist pulling her closer to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged softly on his hair making him moan into the kisses.

as the kiss turning into a full makeout, he lays her down to his bed, resting both of his hands on the side of her head still kissing her hungrily.

his suit already thrown out on the floor and her heels too. she snapped back to reality and realizing what is gonna happen then flipping their position over and now she is on top of him straddling him.

"let me do all the work draco, today is all about you, wanna make this special and a night to remember, let me make you feel good, love."

she slowly grinding against him after earning eager nods from him, both of them let out a moan at the feeling.

then she gets down and started to unbuckle his belt, kissing his growing tent and palming him through his trousers causing him to squirmed under her touch.

getting excited she pulls his trousers and boxers down, throwing them somewhere as draco's hard swollen cock sprang free and standing tall in front of her, begging for attention.

she moans at the pretty sight, licking her lips, craving to feel him. she runs her fingers around him and placing soft kisses on his inner thighs before going up to the part he needed the most.

draco let out a throaty groan when y/n finally take his hard cock in her hands pumping him, his body jolted out as he feels y/n kitten lick his tip, his hand founding its way to her hair.

she looks up to him with innocent eyes who already watching her movements, she smiles and took his balls in her mouth making draco instantly moan her name, his other hand gripped on the sheets.

then she pulls out to rest her jaw and lick a straight line on his cock from the base to the tip then going all in, his cock feels so heavy and full in her mouth, draco is already a moaning mess.

"fuck y/n- feels so g-good.." her name repeatedly left his lips like a prayer as he keeps moaning her.

she bobbed her head up and down at a steady pace, hollowing her cheeks and pulling draco deeper each time she suck him.

"yes y/n, just like that, fuck.. feels so fucking good"

she swirls her tongue around his length, sucking on his tip and taking him back inside her mouth again, her hand pumping the rest of his cock that she couldnt fit in her mouth at the same pace making sure that part got pleasures too.

he bucked his hips accidentally making her gagged and choked out, saliva dripping off her mouth and eyes watering.

"shit i’m sorry y/n!" he said as he watches her struggling.

"do that again, draco."

y/n replied as she took him back inside her mouth, and hand still stroking his cock. draco groaned and buck his hips again, making her gagged and moaning at the same time, the vibration sending him near to his high.

she noticed his cock twitched in her mouth and begin to suck faster and deeper, her hand move to his balls and massaging them helping him reach his high.

he let out a low scream of her name as he shots his warm liquids down to her throat, his legs are shaking. y/n moaned and pulls him out showing draco that she swallowed all of his cum. he smirked and mutters a 'good girl' to her.

"how was it, draco?" she asks him smirking as she slowly sat up and straddling him again.

"fuck.. you have no idea y/n.. that was amazing, the best i ever had" he replied as he still catching his breath.

she smiles at him and takes off her dress slowly showing draco her black lingerie. his pupils widened at the view in front of him.

"god y/n.. you are insanely gorgeous, you look so hot in this lingerie, darling. are you preparing all of this for me? planning all of this cause you know this is going to happen, yeah?"

his hands are now roaming around her body, admiring her in every way he could. she blushes and nodded, taking her lingerie off of her showing draco her full body making him embarrassingly moaned at the view.

she starts grinding her now bare cunt on his still hard cock, earning a soft whimper from the boy under her. his hands instantly gripped her hips helping her grinding faster, her wetness now coating his cock.

"now enjoy the ride, mr. malfoy" she said as she lifts her body and pumps his cock lining his tip against her lubricating it with her juices making both of them groaning at the sensation.

she sunk down on his cock, filling her up in a perfect way. its like their bodies fit together and were made for each other.

they’re moaning each other as draco is fully inside her. she paused and take a few seconds to adjust to his size.

"mhm.. fuck- you're so big draco.. fill me up so good inside"

she starts bouncing up and down, resting her hands on draco's chest as she picks up her pace, throwing her head back and screwing her eyes shut in pleasure.

"you're so tight y/n, wrapping my cock so tight, taking me so well" draco praises between his moans, his hands gripped harder on her hips helping her bouncing faster.

"do you like how i ride you, dray?" she leaned into his ear, blowing her hot breath and biting his earlobe making him shuddered.

"y- yes mommy" draco's breath hitched as y/n suddenly going faster, her walls now hugging his cock very tight.

she let out a groan hearing draco called her 'mommy'.

placing her lips on his jawline, licking it then going down to his neck, sucking hard as she found his sweet spot causing draco to moan his raspy voice into her ear, turning her even more.

y/n starts to give him her lovebites and marking him as hers sending butterflies to his stomach.

she put her hand on his throat, choking him lightly while her other hand toying with his nipple, making draco whine. pulling her closer to him and captured her lips on his to muffle his moans.

she broke the kiss and screaming his name out loud as his cock nearly brushing her cervix and hitting her g-spot.

"shit.. you feel so good inside me dray"

she rolled her hips faster on his cock, her tits bouncing up and down in front of him and he caught her nipple in his mouth and buried his face on her breasts, enjoying the warmness.

"ah- you feel so good too, fuck- never felt this good mommy"

his breath got stuck and he feels his cock twitched inside her indicating both of them that he was close, y/n seems close too as she bites her lips feeling the coil in her stomach tightened.

"cum for mommy, baby boy"

y/n rolls her hips and bouncing faster, tightening her grip on his throat.

and that was it for draco, he moans her name out loud not caring if someone might hear as he spilled his cum inside, filling her to the brim, ropes of his warm cum shooting inside her.

y/n cant help but cum all over his cock at the feeling of his cum shooting inside her nonstop, her walls clenching and squeezing hard on him.

both of them are a mess, legs shaking, vision blurry as they were on cloud nine, she rolled her hips lazily to ride out their orgasms before collapsing on top of draco, both panting heavily.

"fuck you have no idea how long i've been wanting to do that, love" draco said softly as he caressing her cheeks pulling her in for a sweet loving kiss.

"happy birthday, draco." y/n broke the kiss smiling at him tiredly, giving lovely kisses all over his face.

"best birthday ever, thank you my love for everything. i love you so much..” he kissed her lips one more time.

“i love you so much too, dray.”

those were the last words they spoke before both of them drifted off to sleep with a smile on their faces.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

tagging : @dracoscum @hellounicorn @onyourgoddamnleft @whoreforgeorgeandfred @turn-to-page-394-please @underappreciated-spoon-321 @youreso-golden @silverdelirium @littlemissnoname13 @dracmalf0y-dm @f4iryluvy @starstruckgranger @lieswithoutfairytales @dlmmdl @yiamalfoy @black-repunzel99 @rylynn-m @slythermuf @acciodignity @i-love-scott-mccall @maybesandohnos @yvonnearce22 @arzfia @alexthealexthealex @seriouslyinlove

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

Daedra of Kvatch minor details

Been a while since I’ve written anything for this AU, so here’s some random details that don’t have too much of an impact on the main story. The AU has changed quite a bit since my last posts about it, so I thought I’d just throw in some minor stuff, like secondary character backstories and small quirks about HoK, who still doesn’t have an actual name. I’m thinking Samael or Weylin.

HoK has a Breton woman named Alice who keeps just showing up in his palace and not even the guards knows how she gets in. She keeps saying that a cat, rabbit, and mouse let her in through a secret door, but no one has been able to find any of the mentioned creatures. She is currently the acting Duchess of Mania.

HoK does actually know the cat Alice is talking about, but he refuses to say anything because he finds the whole thing absolutely hilarious.

HoK has made an extra artifact since he became MadGod and became more familiar with his powers. It’s a necklace that he gave to Martin. It has a powerful shield enchantment, as well as resistances to all types of magic, disease and poison.

HoK sometimes forgets he’s Sheogorath and will be surprised anytime he does something daedric-y.

The first, and only, time HoK was there for a christening of a baby (would it be a divining? An akatoshening?) the baby gained an unbreakable tie to the Isles. Her hair yearned stark white, and her magical pools grew to unwarranted amounts. She later grew up to be the worlds strongest conjured, mystic, alteration mage, destruction mage, and illusionist. She later became HoK’s apprentice.

After the Oblivion Crisis ended, the hero who went into Mankato Camorans Paradise and later became the Champion of Cyrodiil, later remade the Knights of the Nine and vowed to wipe the Daedra from Tamriel. This makes things awkward between them and HoK.

Martin and HoK actually had 2 wedding ceremonies. One in the Shivering Isles and one in Cyrodiil.

HoK founded a museum in the Imperial City, where he stores multiple artifacts he comes across in his journey, and where CoC stores the ones they come across as well.

HoK regularly travels to Skingrad to have tea with Count Janus, as well as a few other guests of varying afflictions. The regulars are a werewolf, a lich, and a Dunmer woman who says she was cured of Corprus. HoK calls these meetings Outcast Anonymous. Janus calls them Sundas brunch, even though they almost always start at 11:25 p.m.

The other Daedric Princes have different emotions about HoK. Some (Dagon, Molag, Namira, and Nocturnal) despise him for his ability to walk on Mundas, others (Malacath, Hircine, Sanguine, the True Tribunal occasionally, and Clavicus Vile) actually like him and hang out with him quite often, the others don’t really pay him any mind.

HoK works part time as a teacher for the Arcane University about proper etiquette when working with Daedra and how to safely traverse the planes of Oblivion.

He has a pet. It’s a ferret named Hircine. Hircine pretends to hate it, but he is in love with the Baby Hircine™️ as he calls it when he thinks HoK isn’t looking

Martin does his very best to accept HoKs station and nature, but it is hard when he can feel the presence of his old master, Sanguine, on his husband.

There are no mirrors in the entire Imperial Palace except for one, which is inside HoK’s private library, which not even Martin is allowed inside.

It’s not very rare for insane people to show up at the Palace. Martin doesn’t know how to feel about them, as HoK finds their antics either amusing or annoying depending on the day, instead of sad and pitiful as Martin does

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part II

[ previous ] 

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 10.2k

Warnings: specific character attributes (not appearance, mentioned favorite color, movie, etc.), oral, rough sex, multiple orgasms, Erwin is kind of annoying, semi-exhibitionism, too much testosterone  A/N: And, here we go again. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part and told me about it. This one’s for y’all~

Mike immediately notices when you start to avoid him. You had already been doing it, but now it's to the point of ducking into buildings you have no business being in and walking a little too briskly when you catch sight of him somewhere on campus. You also won't get anywhere near the Pi Kappa Alpha house.

 And, he gets it. He fucked up that night. Or, he didn't fuck up, but he opened up. Too much. Showed that he was willing to be vulnerable, and you obviously had not liked that. 

 The first week of watching you duck and cover from afar isn't so bad. He's a little bummed, yeah, but he figures you'll come around, if not for him then at least for his dick. 

 But, one week turns to two, and Mike gets irritated, a little angry even. Because it's not like he did anything wrong. It's not like you haven't wanted it every time. 

 He doesn't know your class schedule exactly, but he does know when you get out of your 11 AM and have to cross the courtyard to your dorm. It's where Mike caught you last time when he was playing frisbee with Nile, and it's where he catches you now. 

 Your speed walking is no match for his normal stride, and he easily closes the distance between you two and grabs your wrist to tug you toward a more private area by the library. 

 "What the fu—what are you doing?" You spit, pulling yourself free. 

 "What are you doing?"

 "Trying to get to my fucking room to nap! Is that okay?" 

 Mike ignores it, glances over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching, then asks, "Why are you avoiding me?" 

 Scoffing, you mumble an unconvincing, "I haven't been avoiding you."

 "Bullshit."

 "I've just been busy, okay? Midterms are coming up, and I'm falling behind…" He can tell you're lying by the way you can't meet his eyes. "I need to focus."

 "Am I that big of a distraction?" 

 You don't miss a beat—"Yes," and your eyes widen at your own answer like you're surprised by it. 

 Mike raises his eyebrows, taken off guard, and you try to cover your tracks. "I mean, like, I don't have time to be fucking frat boys. And, I know you have the pick of the litter, so it's not like you'll go without." 

 He has to bite his tongue, a confession right on the tip of it—I pick you—but knows that's the last thing you want to hear. It's too early for thoughts like that anyway. You're too closed off, and he's too transparent. It's not like anything serious could work out anyway, and even if it could, he shouldn't tie himself down. 

 "I mean, yeah, but—"

 You hold a hand up, take a deep breath. "Look, I'll be honest with you. You seem like an okay guy, but you should find some other girl to do this with. I don't wanna be another notch on your bedpost—"

 "Then, don't be. We can just hang out."

 "Yeah, we tried that at the party and still ended up sleeping together."

 "We can make it a rule then." He's trying too hard, he knows, but he can't help it. "No fucking. I won't come onto you, and you won't come onto me."

 You snort and pick at the hem of your shirt, obviously not buying any of this. "Why do you wanna be friends so bad anyway? Is it the hard-to-get thing? Is it that I'm making it difficult?"

 "Maybe but not entirely."

 Why does he want to be your friend so badly? You haven't given him any real reason to. You can bond over nerd shit here and there, but other than that, you don't have a lot in common. 

 You just seem… Cool. Aloof. Like you don't give a shit about anyone or anything, and Mike never thought he'd find that attractive in a girl, but apparently he does. 

 "Just come over one more time. We can watch something again or—"

 "I'm not going into your room again!"

 "You don't have to," Mike says, speaking with his hands to emphasize his point. "We can stay in the living room. Totally public. Any of the guys could walk in."

 "Has that ever stopped any of you before?"

 Not a hundred percent of the time. Mike has definitely seen more of Erwin and Gelgar than he'd like, but he can tell a little white lie.

 "Yes." 

 You stare up at him, a skeptical look on your face, and then, "I'll see if I can pencil you in." 

 "Fuck yeah, I promise I'll show you a good time without, like, showing you a good time." 

 "Yeah, whatever." 

 You're unimpressed, turn to walk away, but Mike is feeling a little too triumphant, a little too bold, and catches you before you can get too far. 

 He premises, "Just to get it out of my system," then bends down and kisses you. Palms covering your cheeks, fingers curling around the back of your head kisses you. He uses both of his thumbs, just under your mouth, to part your lips so that he can slide his tongue past them, and you push at his chest half-heartedly, no real force to it as you let him lick into your mouth. 

 The first whimper that escapes you is what makes you break away, your hands stronger against him to shove him back, and Mike smirks when you glare at him. 

 "You're on thin fucking ice, Zacharias. Thin ice."

 "I'll keep it in mind."

 With that, you leave the little alcove the two of you were in, grumbling and cursing the whole way. Mike just watches the sway of your hips and licks his lips. 

 *

 You come over on a Saturday afternoon. Mike can tell you've tried to make yourself look not cute in loose, ripped jeans and a t-shirt, but it doesn't work. Mike still smiles, and you still roll your eyes at him before kicking your shoes off by the door. 

 "Okay, so what are we doing?" You ask, sitting two cushions away from him on the couch. 

 "I brought my Switch in here, so we have that…"

 "Oh, do you have the SNES games downloaded?" 

 "Dumb question. Of course I do."

 "Rude. Open that shit up."

 He does, and you demand to play Donkey Kong, which Mike has no problem with, but, "A please would be nice."

 You click your tongue, holding your hand out for the second tiny controller and tell him, "You don't get to hear me beg anymore."

 Mike feels his shorts tighten, but all he does is kick a foot over his thigh and warn you, "Best not test my self-control like that."

 "Is that a threat?" You laugh, toggling down to 'Two Player' on the screen and clicking it. 

 "Not a threat." He bobs his head to the theme music. "Just lettin’ you know."

 You get as far as Mine Cart Carnage together, but Mike ends up getting tossed from the cart, leaving you to take over as Diddy. He watches the way you move with your character, sitting up straighter, raising the controller to your chest, swaying one way then the next as if your body is tied directly to the game. 

 Erwin walks in a little while later when you're focused on Stop & Go Station. He sits down in a plush chair, phone in his hand that he ignores in favor of asking, "What are you guys doing out here? Shouldn't you be in Mike's room?"

 Mike glances at him, gives him a look and shakes his head, but you're much less subtle when you snap, "Can it, Smith," eyes never leaving the screen. 

 "Don't count on that," Mike snorts. "I think it’s physically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut for longer than four seconds." 

 "Wooow," Erwin drawls, thick eyebrows high in offense. "I'm supposed to be able to trust you, and now you're just talking shit right in front of me."

 "For some reason, I get the feeling your ego can't get bruised that easily," you muse out loud. 

 "I'll have you know I can be very sensitive," Erwin informs you matter-of-factly. "I have a heart. I have feelings. And, I've been told on multiple occasions that I'm more considerate than most men, so there."

 You laugh, a silly sound that gets stuck in your throat. "Oh, really? And how many of those women—'cause that's what they are, I'm sure—were left behind after they built you up like that, hm?"

 Biting both of his lips, Erwin sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. "I plead the fifth on that one."

 "Uh huh, that's what I thought."

 While you're fixated on the screen, Mike glances over at his friend, sees blue eyes shining as Erwin stares at you, a tell-tale smirk on his face. He's amused by you. Interested, even. 

 You stay for about an hour longer before going back to the dorms. As soon as the front door shuts, Mike swivels around and points a finger at Erwin, uttering a low, "Don't you dare," that makes the blond chuckle. 

 "Wouldn't dream of it."

 *

 You mostly hang out on weekends and only in small bursts. Alternating between movies and video games, it's a little hard to speak to one another, but Mike is still able to pry some information out of you and share more about himself. 

 You're majoring in geological and earth sciences while Mike is working toward a degree in environmental science— "Kinda weird we haven't run into each other before." 

 You played basketball for a year in high school before getting annoyed by the other girls. Mike, on the other hand, made some of his best friends on his old soccer team. 

 You had a ferret growing up and now you'll "Never get another pet again 'cause when he died, I died a little with him." (It's the first time Mike has ever seen tears in your eyes, but you blink them away at record speed). He tells you about the dogs his family has had and how the one at home with his parents now is actually his. (Her name's Scout, and I would take a bullet for her.") 

 Hitch is your best friend even though she irritates the shit out of you, and Mike says something similar about Erwin. "He's a good guy. He's just… Passionate about so many things. He gets obsessive. Drives me insane."

 "Obsessed with that pussyyy," you joke in a deep, stupid voice. 

 Mike snorts, "Perv," and keeps watching the movie that's playing. 

 And, speaking of movies, your favorite Disney film is The Fox and The Hound— "Good taste," while his is Lion King— "Classic." As far as other movies, though, the two of you spend half an hour arguing over which Mel Brooks is the best, end up having to agree to disagree (Young Frankenstein vs. High Anxiety).

 Your favorite color is green. Your favorite food is pizza (“What are you, twelve?”). Your favorite animal is the pangolin. They’re all little facts that Mike stores away, and by the end of the semester, he actually feels like he kind of knows you, and somehow, against all odds, you've managed to not hookup through it all. 

 That's not to say it hasn't been hard (that he hasn't been hard). Sometimes you come over in skin tight jeans or crop tops, outfits that accentuate your body in all the right ways, and Mike is pretty sure that you do it on purpose. 

 You're both careful not to drink too much at parties, aware of the likely consequences, but you hang around him enough to gain people's attention—jealous girls watching in disappointment, curious guys sizing you up. 

 Questions inevitably arise. You complain about Hitch pestering you for details that you will not give her, and he tells you how he has to keep brushing off his brothers. 

 "She doesn't, like, know we've had sex—would never fucking leave me alone if she did. But she and all her other little friends are so annoying about it."

 You're on the steps outside of the frat house, jackets zipped up, nursing steaming cups of cocoa you got from the nearby shop. 

 "So, what do you tell them?" Mike asks. 

 You shrug your shoulders. "That we're not fucking. Just friends. They don't believe me, but that's my story, and I'm sticking to it, dammit."

 Mike laughs through his nose and takes another drink. "I mean, it's not a lie since we're not fucking and we are friends."

 You make a high pitched noise, doubtful, challenging. "Friends is a strong word."

 "Whatever." 

 He's used to you doing that now, denying him every chance you get even in a joking way. You've never once admitted to any type of feelings out loud, and he isn't sure why, some kind of avoidance behavior, but he won't complain because he knows you're at least a little fond of him. You wouldn't keep spending time with him if you weren't. 

 Deciding to change the subject, Mike prompts, "So, Erwin's party over the break," and you glance at him over your cup with interest. "You're coming, right?" 

 "I don't know. Isn't it at, like, his ranch house in bum fuck nowhere?" 

 "Kinda. It's only about a two hour drive from here, but it's definitely off the beaten path."

 "I'll have to see. Need to spend time with my mom while I can." 

 Understandable. He's looking forward to seeing his own parents (and Scout, of course). 

 The last game of the season is played and won, then finals pass after too many all-nighters and too much Red Bull. Mike actually sighs in relief when he slides into his white Wrangler, all packed up and ready to make the drive back to his house. 

 He sends one text before pulling out onto the main road—Be safe—and hopes he won't have to wait an entire month to see you again. 

*

 Staying with your mom is nice but always slightly depressing. The house is empty with just her in it, less lived in than ever before. You can tell exactly which spots she spends most of her time in—her office to work and the couch in front of the TV to wind down. 

 You sleep in your old bedroom, spend most evenings texting Hitch after your mom goes to bed, but a few conversations with Mike slip in too. He sends you several pictures of Scout—beautiful but always wearing one of those perpetual Boxer frowns—and in return, you send him pictures of the pretty betta your mother has in her office. It's the best you can do. 

 After a week of being in your hometown, you're ready to leave it again. It's not terrible or in a bad part of town. It's just… lacking. You'd never tell your mother this, but you have a feeling she knows. It's probably why she doesn't put up a fight when you tell her you're gonna run off for a couple days to attend Erwin's party. 

 "I promise I'll be back. It's just one night and then the drive back."

 Her tone is very serious when she tells you to stay out of trouble, but then she walks you out to your car and hugs you, watching and waving as you drive away. 

 You text Erwin on the way there to ask if it's okay to arrive early—like a few hours early cause I needed to get out of my house—and he replies enthusiastically.

 Absolutely! Mike and Levi are already here 😃

 You have no idea who this Levi is outside of hearing Erwin mention him a few times, but you very quickly find out when you get to the large but secluded house. You see Erwin's stupid (gorgeous) vintage Mustang parked in the gravel driveway as well as Mike's white Jeep and an unfamiliar, black Prius. 

 All three of them are on the porch occupying outdoor chairs that probably cost more than your fucking dorm expenses, but Mike and Erwin both stand when you make your way up the sidewalk. Staying seated, or really sprawled out with his hands behind his head, is a fairly small man (boy, maybe) with inky hair and sunglasses covering his eyes. He’s dressed much differently than the other two, ripped jeans, Doc Martens, and a striped long sleeved shirt under a short sleeved band tee. 

 “What in the e-boy fuck…” You mutter to yourself, nodding at the blonds and letting Mike take your backpack—not that you really have a choice considering your grip on it is no match for his. 

 “Was the drive okay?” He asks, swinging the bag over his shoulder and making it look incredibly small. 

 “Yeah. Once I hit the backroads I could start going, like, eighty-five, so that shaved some time off.”

 Mike snorts. “You sound like Erwin. Dude’s always speeding.”

 “Don’t fucking start with me. I was in the car with you when you almost hit a pedestrian on a crosswalk.”

 “We don’t talk about that.”

 Everyone follows Erwin inside the house. It’s just as nice as you thought it’d be, sprawling and open with wood floors, plush furniture, and rustic decorations. There are moose antlers mounted in one room and a god damned bear head in another. It makes you roll your eyes, but to say you’re unimpressed would be a flat out lie. 

 “Not everyone is staying the night, but I know you have to, so just pick an upstairs room,” Erwin tells you after the grand tour. “I can take you around on the golf cart once you settle in.”

 You see Mike roll his green eyes and amend, “We can take you around.” 

 “Yeah,” Erwin nods. “That’s what I meant.”

 Levi is making a face up at Erwin, furrowed brow, squinty eyes, and a little grimace. He hasn’t said more than two words to you since you’ve arrived (“I’m Levi.”), but he doesn’t seem like the chatterbox type, a little more standoffish, and you can’t blame him for that. 

 “Just in case you’re wondering, I’m in the middle room,” Mike tells you with a grin.

 “And why, pray tell, would I be wondering that?”

 He basically sings in his deep voice, “No reason,” then walks back downstairs with Erwin and Levi, leaving you to make yourself comfortable. 

 You take the bedroom at the far end of the hallway out of spite more than anything, but you figure the farther away you can be from Mike the better. After setting your things down and organizing deodorant, perfume, and every day jewelry on the dresser, you join the guys downstairs to find them huddling over the kitchen island talking about plans for the night. 

 “Should we get a keg? It won’t be that many people, but it might be easier to just pour from one,” Erwin thinks out loud. 

 “Don’t bother getting a keg if it’s gonna be the same shitty beer you guys have at Pike parties,” you chime in, hip checking Mike so that he’ll scoot over and allow you join their little meeting. 

 Levi lets out a little laugh, the most expressive you’ve seen him so far, while the other two pout at your criticism. 

 “Why don’t you pick the beer then?” Erwin prompts. “Since you have such refined tastes.” 

 Eyebrows lifting, you laugh. “Oh, we’ve got a smartass in the house tonight.” The blond smirks and dusts off his shoulders, making Mike groan in either annoyance or embarrassment. You can’t be sure which one. 

 “Fuck, is this what it’s always like between you three?” Levi asks, looking between all of you. “Just constant bickering?”

 “More or less.”

 “That seems exhausting.”

 “It is,” you confirm. “‘S’why I can only hang out with them in small doses.”

 “Ouch.”

 “Wounded.”

 “Anyway,” you let your head hang so that all they can see is your shoulders shaking as you giggle, and when you look back up, you make sure that the smile is mostly wiped from your face. “I’m not saying I’m some kind of beer expert, but I at least know that the shit you serve at parties is rancid.”

 “And yet, you always seem to forget,” Mike teases. “I always end up having to finish yours.”

 “You don’t have to. You choose to, you fucking alkie.”

 It’s hard to come to any sort of decision with the non-stop push and pull of the conversation, and eventually Levi just walks away to let the three of you work it out. Erwin orders a keg of Rolling Rock, says something about, “Dad won’t mind me splurging a little since I downsized this whole thing for him,” and you scoff at him. 

 He’s well aware of his privilege, talks about it in an ironic manner that’s both maddening and hilarious— “Father is going to let me take the yacht out this weekend,” and, “Oh, that’s not country club appropriate.” It makes you laugh every fucking time, but it also usually earns him a smack or two. 

 The next few hours are spent gathering party supplies and getting the house ready (as in moving some furniture around and hiding valuables). Erwin leaves to pick up the keg after assuring the vendor on the phone that he can drive to them and pay extra for the short notice. You don’t know how he manages it, but you assume his confidence has a lot to do with it.

 Only about twenty people are supposed to come, “An Erwin Smith exclusive,” Mike jokes with you as you stash a couple of vases in the kitchen cabinets. 

 “Oh, does that mean I’m special?” You play.

 “Absolutely.”

 There’s something churning in your gut as you move around downstairs with Mike and Levi, an omniscient feeling, like you know how the night will end, but you’re going to fight it every step of the way. You’ve made it this long without a slip-up, and you’re determined to make it one more night. 

 Erwin gets back with about three hours to spare. He and Mike disappear to change into what you assume to be their usual douche-y attire, and you and Levi sit alone in the large living room waiting quietly. 

 You’re surprised when he speaks first, stating, “You don’t seem the sorority type.”

 Turning, you try to make sense of it, respond, “Well, I’m not.” You’re almost offended that he’d even consider you were.

 “Then what are you doing hanging around with those frat boy fucks?”

 “Oh, that.” You sigh. “Uhh, my friend made me go to one of their parties, and I just… Made an impression, I guess.”

 “You fucked one of ‘em, didn’t you?” Levi is smirking, so sure of himself that you don’t really see the point in denying it.

 “Yeah.”

 “Rich boy or the giant?”

 You look over at him, defenses rising like they did your first night in the Pi Kappa Alpha house. “The fuck is it to you?”

 Holding his hands up, Levi chuckles, “Alright, alright, forget I asked.”

 You cross your arms over your chest, stare off as you wonder if it’s actually that hard to tell. You figured it would be obvious that you’re more comfortable with Mike than with Erwin, but you have been getting more used to the other brazen blond over the last few months, just like you’ve been getting a little more used to Nile and all the other brothers. You haven’t sucked any of their dicks, though. 

 “How’d you meet Erwin?” You try.

 You’re not surprised when Levi snarks, “The fuck is it to you?” 

 You can’t tell if the two of you are going to leave this ranch house as mortal enemies or as friends, but it’ll definitely be one of them. 

 “‘Cause you don’t seem the type to hang out with them either,” you tell him.

 It's definitely odd. He and Erwin have to go back some time to have been able to stick together through their college years and all of their superficial differences. 

 Levi admires the black polish on his nails then informs you in a bored tone, “We’ve been friends since we were kids, but it’s no big deal. Just can’t get rid of him.”

 The corner of his mouth turns upward, so he can’t be too heartbroken over it. You understand that, haven’t quite been able to shake your puppy-dog of a friend since the beginning of the semester, but you’re not as annoyed about it as you pretend to be. 

 “They certainly do get attached,” you hum.

 The two men in question join you once again, looking much more palatable in jeans and v-necks. Erwin has a button-down hanging open and rolled up to his elbows while Mike is wearing a black and white flannel in similar fashion. It’s the most casual they’ve been at a party, and you can’t help but joke, “Wow, look at you two. More human, less lizard people for once.”

 Erwin rolls his eyes while Mike mumbles a Doctor Who reference that makes you suck on the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning. 

 He’s got his charm turned on tonight, the kind that appeals to you, which will definitely pose a problem.

 People start arriving at around eight, some you recognize from the college, some you don’t who you assume to be some of Erwin’s older friends. Gelgar taps the keg within minutes of walking in then plays the role of bartender for the next ten minutes as everyone lines up for a drink. There’s liquor and mixers set up on the counter, and you consider just making your usual, but you figure you should have at least a little of the beer since you’re the one who fought for the more expensive brand. 

 When you get your cup, foam nearly overflowing past the rim, you take one sip only to cough it back up when Mike shows off his usual party trick—appearing out of thin air—and asks, “You gonna finish it this time?”

 You splutter as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand then glare up at him. “I’m gonna try, but it’s gonna be pretty fuckin’ difficult if you keep making me spit up like a god damn baby.”

 He’s amused, light eyes dancing mischievously, and you know you’re in for a long night. 

 Erwin has a playlist filtering through the house’s sound system, a nice balance of several different genres playing at a bearable volume for the first time. Games start up in the kitchen, rage cage around the island, beer pong at the table, and while you’re content to just wallflower in the corner, Mike drags you into it. 

 “You’re just as bad as Hitch," you complain, but he isn't fazed, just plants you in an open spot at the island and stands right beside you. He's gonna regret doing that; rage cage is one of the only competitive games you're actually good at, but he'll find that out. 

 It's fast-paced, full of screaming and laughing, jumping and shoving. You get to slam your cup into Mike's on several occasions, drawing curses from him every time. 

 "Honestly, it's a little embarrassing," you ridicule with a smile. 

 He downs the small amount of beer in the cup he pulls, adds it to the stack, then challenges, "I'll show you embarrassing. Just wait." 

 You've had maybe two beers altogether, but it still sends a jolt down your spine. 

 The two of you play another couple of rounds, and Mike does seem to catch on a little more, but he eventually bows out and pulls you away with him. 

 More beer. Meandering around the party. It's pretty tame in comparison to all the Pike events you've attended, but the later it gets, the rowdier everyone becomes. Music gets turned up to dance. The keg stops being used for pouring and starts being used for stands. You have the absolute pleasure of watching Erwin hold Levi upside down as the smaller man chugs as much as he can. He beats Nile's record, raises his arms in victory as Erwin shakes him by the shoulders in excitement. 

 "They're pretty close, yeah?" 

 Mike looks down at you as you stand on your tip-toes to get closer to his ear as you speak. 

 He nods. "I don't really understand them, but yeah. They've been friends since, like, elementary school, I think."

 "No shit?"

 "No shit."

 You play beer pong against Gelgar and Nile, end up losing by quite a lot, and by the time you finish the remaining cups and another full drink, you're feeling good. Warm, happy, dangerously giggly. 

 Mike stands too close as you make your rounds to talk to people, many of them asking how the lacrosse season went. He puffs his chest a little, tries and fails to act modest, but instead of getting irritated like you usually do, you find yourself resting your cheek against his arm as you shake your head. You don't know if the action is to disagree with him or to get closer, but it makes Mike chuckle and shift so that he can wrap that arm around you and pull you to his chest instead. 

 He smells nice—woodsy with a sweet little bite. It makes your mouth water. You try to call back your determination from before, that readiness to fight and deny, but Mike's body is firm and massive and hot against yours, and he's also drunk and smiling sideways. His eyes are hazy and gorgeous when he peers down at you. His stubble has grown into that perfect length, the kind that feels incredible between your legs, and you can already see your hands tugging at his shaggy hair as he flips it from his face. 

 "You okay?" He rumbles, tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

 He knows. You know he knows. And, he knows that you know that— 

 Fuck. Stop. Just…

 "What do you think?" You're aware of what you're saying. The words make perfect sense. You just can't stop them from falling from your mouth is all. 

 "I don't know," Mike says, a playful lilt to his voice. "Why don't you tell me?" 

 You're not sure if he's asking for your consent or if he just wants to humiliate you by making you spell it out for him. 

 "I mean…" Your gaze travels from his face to his neck to his pecs and downward. "The semester is over."

 "It is," he agrees, hand moving from your waist to your hip. 

 "Don't really need to be, uh… What's the word…" You squeeze your eyes shut, splaying your fingers on his stomach. "Studious," you snap. "Don't need to be so studious on vacation."

 Mike very slowly starts walking backwards toward the staircase, holding you at arms length by both your hips now. 

 "No, you really don't." 

 Voice of reason fading away, you step around him but grab his hand, taking the stairs two by two until you're on the balcony that wraps above the living room. Once you slip into the closer room, yours, you lock the door. 

 Mike's mouth is familiar in its desperation—tastes like beer and want and him. He pulls his flannel off behind him by the sleeves just in time for you to start pushing his shirt up over his abs, in awe all over again at the muscle group. 

 It's really not fair. 

 You pause between kisses to strip, smiling and groaning whenever your lips meet again. You've missed it on some level—the heat, the fucking attraction you just can't shake. All the times you hung out with him, purposely keeping distance, avoiding flirting and touching and staring—you figured it would come to a head. You even guessed there was a good chance that it would be at this party. 

 But, that doesn't mean you're prepared when he throws you onto the bed, doesn't prepare you for the way he bites your lip and sucks on your neck and pinches your nipples until you moan his name and grind against him, and it certainly doesn't prepare you for the way he spreads your legs, runs his nose up the inside of your thigh, then drags his tongue over your slit. 

 "Fuck, Mike." 

 He groans, quick to slide the muscle into your pulsing cunt to taste you. His fingertips are digging into the fat of your thighs, keeping you still save for your trembling which makes the feeling of his mouth even more intense. You want to buck against his face, want to put out the fire raging inside of you by moving somehow, letting some of the energy out, but you can't. All you can do is lay there as Mike licks around your hole and nibbles at your clit and laps up your juices. 

 "Missed this fuckin' pussy," he breathes, sucking on one of your lips and then the other, pulling blood to the surface and making them puffy and sensitive. 

 You card fingers through his hair before fisting your hand in it and shoving his face further into your cunt, trying as hard as you fucking can to ride any part of him you can manage—his tongue, his nose, anything that will give you friction. 

 The sound he makes at your pathetic attempt is bestial, a low, throaty grunt as he rubs his chin up and down your slit, drenching himself in your slick and quickly overstimulating your swollen clit with his stubble. 

 "Oh fuck, oh fuck—"

 "You wanted it," he grits. "You pushed your sloppy little cunt right in my face, so now you've gotta take everything I give you." 

 You cry as he continues the motion, pussy drooling as the little bud starts to grow raw. "Mike, please, please…"

 "Gonna make sure you feel this tomorrow." He stops only to lean back down and suck your clit into his mouth. The tip of his tongue is soft in comparison to the coarse hair, but it still makes your hips twitch, and when he grazes his teeth over it, you squeal and kick. 

 It's so close to hurting, right on the edge, but it's that helplessness that has you steadily leaking on the bed. It's what makes it easy for Mike to push a finger into your clenching hole, pump a couple times, then slide another one in beside it. 

 Your climax is coiling in your gut, compressed like a spring and only getting tighter with every thrust of long, thick fingers and every measured flick of his tongue. 

 Gripping his hair again, you ride it out. Mike loosens his grip just enough to allow you to undulate in time with the waves that wash over you, and you moan loudly as he moves to flatten his tongue over your entrance so that you come on and against it. 

 He gives you some time to settle down, but you know he isn't done yet, and since you're not quite ready to take his cock in your sensitive pussy, you pull your legs from the sides of his head and crawl to lay with your head off the side of the bed. 

 Mike gets the picture immediately, and you hear a huff of air leave him all at once before he clambers off the mattress to position himself at the edge. You're a little too low, so he grabs all four pillows to shove under you, and as he does, you lavish his bobbing cock with kitten licks, going as far as sucking on his balls when he leans over you. 

 "Jesus fucking—" 

 You can feel the way they tighten, his cockhead dripping pre that lands just below the notch of your sternum. It isn't until he's thoroughly coated in spit that you stop and let him straighten, then open your mouth and relax your shoulders. 

 Mike is careful as he slides his tip past your lips, letting you adjust to the weight of his cock in your mouth before he pushes in a little further. Your eyes start watering as soon as he passes between your molars, making you stretch your jaw and drool from the corners of your mouth. 

 He pulls out then, taps his cockhead on your cheek, leaving a mix of precum and spit on your skin before lining himself up again and sliding back in. 

 He repeats the process a few times as if it'll actually get you used to his size, but it's just not possible. You gag and gurgle, slurp back drool when you're given the chance, and your entire body throbs when Mike tells you, "I'm gonna give you more now, okay? Wanna see your throat bulge with my cock."

 You moan around him, try to make the passage of your mouth and esophagus as straight as possible then let your eyes roll back as he slips into the tighter sleeve for a few seconds. Your toes dig into the bedspread, fingers clawing at the material as you fight back the panic that comes with not being able to breathe. 

 Mike pulls out panting, and you wish you could see his face, the look in his eyes, but you can't. All you can do is lap at his cock until he pushes it into your mouth again. 

 This time when he slips into your throat, he reaches down to press a hand to your neck, letting out a deep, disbelieving laugh as he feels the way his length moves in it. "Holy shit. I could—" he just barely gives you more, and your responding whine is completely muffled by him, "—Could come like this."

 The thought makes you tingle. Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen. You are feeling a little lightheaded. But the idea of him coming down your throat, right into your stomach, fuck, it makes your cunt pulse again. 

 Mike pulls out, and you suck in deep breaths, a little sob making your chest heave. Tears are streaming from your eyes, getting caught in your hair, and you have to wipe other various fluids from your face. 

 He helps you sit back up, rubs your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck as your heart rate returns to normal. As soon as he sees you relax, though, he's tugging you from the bed and bending you over it. 

 The scream that's pushed from you is hoarse as you're split open on his cock. Mike holds you by the hair, pulling your head back as he snaps his hips forward and back relentlessly. He slides in and out of you easily, but that doesn't mean he isn't stretching you to your breaking point. 

 You shake on the bed, thankful when he lets go of your head so that you can fall back to the mattress, crying and moaning all you want. 

 "Feel so good, baby," Mike groans. "So good."

 He punctuates it with a slap to your ass that causes you to squeeze him, and that only encourages him to repeat the action until both your cheeks are radiating heat and stinging from his hands. 

 He flips you like a doll, and you're finally able to see his face clearly as he stares down at you with a dropped jaw and heavy lids. You know you're a mess, fucked out and sloppy, but as he abuses your g-spot with the ridge of his cock, all you can do is grin drunkenly and let your eyes roll. 

 "So pretty when you smile," he praises. Fingers grip your chin, and when you're able to focus your gaze again you find Mike leaning over you, face level with yours. "Open your mouth for me." His tone is soft yet demanding, and you don't hesitate for a second as you do what you're told. 

 Mike pushes spit through his lips, letting it drip and stretch until it lands on your tongue. It makes you feel cheap and disgusting, but it doesn't stop you from squirting around him. 

 Devolving into nothing more than grunts and groans, Mike continues to fuck into you but straightens so that he can reach your clit better. He flicks it back and forth until your true orgasm hits you, and then he keeps going. 

 You cry out, squirm wildly beneath him, but all it results in is two fingers being shoved in your mouth. Stroking over the back of your tongue, more saliva pours from your mouth just like the slick that pours from your pussy while he toys with your clit. 

 You come again. And again. When Mike finally removes his hand from between your legs, you're nothing more than a puddle, moaning and crying for him. 

 Every orgasm has made your walls swell around him, his cock feeling longer and thicker than ever as he kisses your cervix with every thrust. That lightheaded sensation is back, white dots dancing around your eyes, and you just barely manage out his name, tapping in his forearm. 

 "Need… need…"

 "What do you need, babe?"

 Your arms curl up by your head, fingers moving and spasming as every one of your senses is overwhelmed.

  "Need you to—t-to—to come. Need you to c-come." 

 You've never had to tap out before, but you can't take him anymore. His size. His expression. His lack of fucking mercy.

 "Yeah?" He coos, but his cock is still dragging in and out of you. You nod, but Mike draws it out, asking, "Where do you want me to come?"

 "Don't… Care…"

 "You don't care?" He's still moving, fucking you absolutely stupid as he lists out, "Your face? Your tits?" He gropes your chest, pinching both nipples, and the fact that you don't even whimper must clue him into the fact that he's about to lose you. 

 Your mind is swimming, fading every time he pulls out only to be brought back online when he pushes back in. 

 "What about your pussy? Want me to come all over your pussy?" 

 You moan, the simplest part of your brain apparently finding that appealing, so after a few more thrusts, Mike pulls out entirely and jerks himself off until he covers your folds in hot cum. He gets some on your thighs, some on your pelvis, soaks your peaking clit so that you take in a stuttering breath. 

 His hand is between your legs again, fingertips spreading the viscous fluid around and dipping into your slit.

 Your eyes shoot open for the first time in God knows how long, a panicked, "M-Mike," tumbling from your lips, but he hushes you.

 "I'm not pushing it inside or anything. Just having fun."

 And, fuck, tonight is the night you learn how filthy he is. Mike spends a few solid minutes rubbing his seed over your puffy lips, fingers the raw tissue around your hole so that you leak for him, then uses it to massage your clit slowly and softly, pulling one last orgasm from you that makes fresh tears spring in your eyes. 

 You're going to be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you can't regret it—not when your legs continue to shake long after your climax, not when you can already feel that satisfying ache deep inside of you, not when Mike crawls to sit on the bed and lifts you into his arms. 

 "You okay?" He asks into your hair. 

 He's rubbing soothing circles on your stomach as you drift in and out. You know you need to shower, but you're so tired and so wrecked, you doubt you'll be able to stand for long enough to clean yourself. 

 "Did I hurt you?" 

 "Mm, little bit," you tell him honestly. You can actually feel his heart start to beat harder in his chest, so you reassure him, "Liked it, though."

 You think something like twenty minutes pass, but you can't be sure as you keep dozing. It's hard not to with Mike rubbing your stomach, his body rising and falling in rhythm with every breath he takes. 

 When your eyes open more than halfway, you begin to move, grimacing at the soreness between your legs as well as the mess. 

 "'m gonna hop in the shower," you announce. 

 Mike sits up too, stretches his arms and asks through a groan, "Want me to come with?"

 "You've done enough coming tonight," you snort. "But nah, I can clean myself on my own."

 His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't say anything, just lets you get up and walk to the bathroom on shaky legs. 

 The hot water almost puts you back to sleep. You manage to rinse off where you need to, step back into the room fully expecting to see Mike passed out in your bed, but he's nowhere to be found. 

 As you crawl under the covers, you try to swallow the feeling of disappointment that's stuck in your throat. 

 *

Mike is up before almost everyone in the house the next morning, so he spends most of it trying to clean up alongside Levi, though he apparently isn't doing a very good job of it according to the smaller man. 

 "Jesus, have you ever mopped a floor in your life?" 

 "Oh, so we're just throwing everything in the same trash bag? No recycling? Your future kids will thank you for that, I'm sure."

 "No, there's no way I’m letting you wipe down the counters. Just move." 

 Levi is lucky Mike is as laid back as he is otherwise he would have thrown the little fuck into the koi pond behind the house a long time ago. 

 Erwin wakes up around nine and walks down looking a little rough, but Mike has definitely seen him in worse states. 

 "Thanks for cleaning up," he says, bent over the island and holding his head in his hands. "Pretty sure I would have thrown up if I'd tried. Several times."

 He tells the other two that pretty much everyone else started heading out at around three and that he has a list of party-goers he needs to text to make sure they made it home in one piece, "When I can actually fucking see straight."

 Naturally, the conversation turns to Mike. Erwin, with his cheek now pressed against the cool, granite countertop, smirks up at him and asks in a sly voice, "So, how was your night?' 

 Mike bites his lip to hide a smile, leans out of the kitchen to make sure you aren't stumbling down the stairs or traipsing about the house, then looks back to his friend and laughs, "Fucking mind-blowing, dude." He doesn't go into explicit detail—that's never been his style—but he does whisper about you taking him better than any other girl and that he's, "Addicted, dude. I genuinely think I am addicted to her pussy." 

 "Don't be fucking dramatic, Zacharias," you pop out behind him, slapping his back as you pass him to get to the fridge. He can see the ghost of a smile turning your lips up, but it's hard to feel satisfied at that when his own face is beet red. 

 Looking at Erwin, Mike throws his hands out by his side, mutters an incredulous, "Dude," that makes the other blond chuckle. 

 You grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, making Levi grumble, "Are none of you guys concerned about the planet? God damn."

 Standing between Mike and Erwin, you take a few gulps, all eyes on you until you swallow and question, "Can I help you?" Now that you're right next to him, Mike can hear a scratchiness to your voice, almost as if you're getting sick, but he knows better, knows exactly where it came from, and fuck if it doesn't make him twitch in his sweats. 

 "Have a good time at the party?" Erwin pries once again. 

 You look at him with a deadpan expression, then answer, "Seems like you already got the deets, so sure. I had a grand time."

 Mike isn't sure if you're being sarcastic about it just like you are everything else. You had just kind of left him hanging when you'd gone to shower. He hadn't thought too much into it even if he'd been a little bummed, but he thinks he understands. You just need more space than he does. 

 Or, it could have been that you hadn't enjoyed yourself. Oh god, what if you'd just been faking? What if you'd lied to him when he asked if he hurt you? What if you're in pain right now and just hiding it? 

 Mike zones out while you talk with Erwin and Levi about plans for the day, works himself into a nice little panic but is still able to hear you tell them you're just gonna head back to your mom's. 

 "You sure?" Erwin asks. "I know you only planned to stay one night, but you're more than welcome to hang out for longer. We’ll be here for at least another few days."

 Levi adds an, "Unfortunately," that earns him a hair ruffle he swats away. 

 "No, it's cool. I can't leave mom alone for the holiday or she'll start to think I don't like staying at the house."

 "You don't, though."

 "Yeah, but she doesn't have to know that."

 Mike stares after you as you take your water bottle and return upstairs, and it doesn't escape the notice of the other two men. 

 "You're so fuckin' whipped, man," Erwin teases. 

 Mike doesn't deny it, just holds up a middle finger. 

 Erwin isn't entirely wrong, though. Mike has been trying to deny it or play it off as nothing more than lust, but there's more to his feelings at this point. He tries not to be obvious around you, to keep his cards close to his chest because he knows you just want to keep things casual—barely even want that if he's being honest. 

 So he can hide it. He can pretend it isn't happening. In fact, Mike should be thankful that you only want sex (sometimes) because it leaves him to do whatever he wants. He could fuck other chicks left and right, and you wouldn't even bat an eyelash. That's a good thing, right? 

 That worry about last night still has him on edge, though, so before you can leave, Mike catches you in your room as you're packing up and closes the door. 

 He expects you to make some kind of comment about not being able to go again, but all you do is tilt your head to the side in a dangerously cute way. 

 "Hey, I, uh… I just wanted to make sure you felt okay after last night." 

 You blink at him, pause in folding your clothes, then show a wide, real grin. 

 "Yeah, I'm fine. Sore in various places—like, super sore—but I'm fine."

 Mike's mouth twists to hide his smirk, and he mumbles a low, "Sorry."

 "Don't ever apologize for your monster cock," you tell him, setting your shirt down on the mattress before pacing over to him. "Like, unless there's tearing of some sort, which there really shouldn't be since you're good at preparation, whoever you fuck should be okay. Sore but okay."

 His eyes go a little wide when you stop in front of him, looking up with an expression he's really never seen before—or maybe that you've never allowed him to see before—and the longer he stares, the more he realizes that you're god damn glowing. 

 Taking a chance, he finds your waist with his hands, inches just a little closer, then leans down when you stand on your toes and tug him by the shirt. 

 You taste like peppermint and already smell like the perfume you wear every day, the scent that has made Mike dizzy for the past few months. He moves a hand to your back to press your body into his, and when you take his bottom lip into your mouth, biting and sucking, he groans and pulls back before he can get too hard. 

 "What's all this? Why are you so perky this morning?" 

 "I get giddy after good sex," you say with a shrug. "Sue me."

 "That why you run away every time I fuck you?" He questions.

 You nod. "Couldn't run away this time, though."

 "I'm sure it's really bruising your pride, letting me see you all warm and gooey." 

 "I am not warm and gooey," you protest. "I was last night, but—"

 "Aw, gross, why'd you have to say it like that?" 

 You giggle—giggle—then remind him, "You're the one who felt the need to fucking fingerpaint."

 Mike vividly remembers the way your pussy looked covered in his cum, the way it felt to smear it and play with your swollen entrance and clit, and now… Now he is definitely hard again. 

 "Better stop before you end up on that bed again."

 Your eyes are dancing, tone mischievous when you respond, "Only if you're gentle."

 "Christ—"

 He's got you naked and spread on the mattress in less than thirty seconds, tongue buried in your cunt as he soothes every part of you he can reach. 

 It would be cruel to actually fuck you again. He knows you're probably a little more tender than you're letting on, so Mike settles for licking into you and flicking your clit, never using teeth as it swells in his mouth so that you pant and moan, and promise, "I can handle it, Mike, I can…"

 "I don't care if you can or can't. Just lemme do this."

 And, it's not like he hasn't pulled his cock from his pants, pumping it and coating his length in the pre-cum he drips at the mere sight of you.

 He can tell you're getting close when your thighs start to tense. You alternate between shifting your hips and going slack. It's the latter that you leak the most, pussy opening around his tongue only to clench a few seconds later. 

 "Just one finger, Mike, please, I want—I need something inside me, please, please," you moan. 

 Mike turns his face to kiss your thigh, sighing but giving in easily when he acquiesces, "Only one."

 The noise you make as he slides his middle finger into you is like music, high pitched and drawn out, with an awe one would sing hymns with. 

 "Yes, yes, yes, thank you, fuck, tha—"

 He understands why you wanted it so badly when he pulls it out and sees his finger coated in white, considers fucking you with it to the point of tears, but before he can, the door to the bedroom swings open and fucking Erwin walks in to ask, "Levi and I are going to the store—"

 “Jesus fuck, Erwin!" Mike swears. "A little busy here!"

 His friend is unfazed, but more importantly, you are too, arching your back, pulling Mike's hair to get him back where you want him, then moaning his name like you never have before as you come. 

 You tremble and take in stuttering breaths, and Mike does his best to hide your exposed pussy from prying eyes as he looks at Erwin and barks out a furious, "No, I don't need anything from the store. Get out."

 The blond shrugs and turns, walking out without shutting the door, and Mike swears he's gonna kill him. He's too bold and too entitled and now he's seen far too much of your body, and Mike doesn't like that. 

 "Did you come?" You ask in an airy voice. Mike guesses you could feel the rhythm of his hand on his cock, probably pushing his face harder against you with every pass. 

 "Uh, no. I don't know if you noticed, but Erwin walked in."

 "I noticed," you snort, sitting up on your elbows. "Why do you think I moaned your name like that?"

 "What?" It had seemed a little odd. Mike knows he's pretty good at oral, but you've never made a sound like that before. 

 "Fucker wanted to see what we were up to, I decided to show him. Now he knows how good you are."

 Mike stands, peers down at you skeptically and says, "You're being too nice to me today. It's freakin' me out a little."

 He doesn't think it's necessary to add that Erwin is already aware of his sexual prowess considering they definitely had a threesome with a rather adventurous girl back in freshman year. It's just not pertinent information. 

 "Soak it up, Zacharias. I'm sure the good mood will be gone by tomorrow."

 "Why, cause I won't be at your mom's to fuck you stupid every night?" His voice comes out cocky, but it's stifled by the way you squeal when he slaps a hand over your wet pussy.

 "I'm sensitive, you asshole!" You're smiling even as you whine. "And, here I was about to give you head to get you off."

 "I mean, you can still do that."

 You glare up at him the whole time you slide off the bed to your knees, warn, "Better hope I don't bite."

 *

 After you leave (and after making out against Mike’s Wrangler for a little too long), he goes back inside to find Erwin and Levi lounging in the den with a movie playing. He wastes no time in snapping his fingers at Erwin and commanding, "We're gonna talk."

 "Oh, are we?" Erwin doesn't even look away until Mike grabs the back of his shirt, and only then does he move from his spot. "Okay, okay, watch the wrinkles, bro."

 He follows Mike into the kitchen, out of earshot unless either of them raise their voices which… Could happen. 

 "What the fuck was that?" Mike hisses. 

 Erwin looks at him with big blue eyes and plays dumb, "What the fuck was what?" 

 Taking a deep breath through his nose, Mike makes sure his voice comes out low and steady, "Smith, I swear to God, it's been a long time since I've punched you, but you're fuckin' testing me, dude."

 Erwin smiles, face lighting up with what looks like excitement but could also be fury. 

 "Mike," he starts. "Don't tell me you're getting violent over a girl." His tone is patronizing, his eyebrows are high, and his grin is downright menacing. 

 "I haven't gotten violent yet," Mike grits. 

 "Hey, how was I to know what you two were doing up there?" 

 "It's not about you walking in, dude! It's about you just fucking standing there!"

 Erwin chuckles and blows him off, "Mike, I've seen your dick before. You've got nothing to worry about."

 "That's not what I'm worried about. You just, like, came in when she was in a vulnerable position, and that's fucked up."

 "She didn't seem to mind."

 Mike sucks his teeth, takes another grounding breath, then asks again, "Why? Why did you wait to leave?" 

 "You want me to be honest?" Erwin rolls his neck then his shoulders. Mike has seen him do that many times before lacrosse games to loosen up—to get ready for a fight. 

 Mike's fist clenches at his side. "Yeah, I do."

 "You've been making yourself crazy over this girl since the start of the semester, and I want to know why."

 "What do you mean?" Mike doesn't know why he asks, has a pretty good idea of what Erwin is alluding to. 

 The blond still dodges the question but in about the worst way possible. "It's not like you two are exclusive or anything."

 Mike feels the way his lungs fill to the point of burning, how his jaw clenches until his molars begin to ache under the pressure, and before he really knows what's happening, he's bowing up to his best friend. 

 Erwin matches him, only a couple inches shorter, chin tilted, that maddening light in his eyes. 

 "Walk away, Mike," he warns. "And, we can forget this little spat even happened."

 Mike peers down his nose at him, trying to rein in his emotions because Erwin is right. You two aren't exclusive. You don't want to be. You told him it was because you need to focus on school, but it could be that you want other options. 

 But fuck, Mike doesn't want Erwin to be one of them. He's stolen more than a few girls right from under Mike's nose with his stupid charm and stupid face and stupid money. He doesn't want you to fall prey to all of it too. 

 Mike doesn't even register the quiet footsteps padding into the kitchen, but Levi's smartass, "You guys about to kiss or somethin'?" definitely snaps him out of his head. 

 Stepping back, Mike resists the urge to punch the counter and break his fucking hand, then turns and strides out. 

 He's supposed to stay at the ranch house for a couple more days, but Mike needs to distance himself before he does something stupid. 

 When he comes back downstairs with his bag on his shoulder and his keys in his hand, Erwin seems to realize his error on at least some level and stands from his place on the couch. 

 "Mike, come on, I'm sor—"

 "Let me cool off, dude,” Mike snaps.

 Erwin shuts his mouth and sits back down, smart enough not to follow Mike outside.

[ next ]

[9ateez-multiau-bot]

Home – YeoRin

Yeosang has no intentions of finishing his food the second that the collar fell from his neck, Bobby’s hold on him and Hyerin now gone. Leaving the food on the table and slipping out to the rooms he and Hyerin were resigned to, the ferret wastes no time; packing all of his things in a suitcase he had charmed a regular at the casino to buy for him. There wasn’t a lot to pack, but he needs to empty the room of any and everything that was linked to the pair of them.

They need to vanish. They can’t allow Bobby to find them again.

Sangie

Noona, don’t come back

He let us both go home

I’ve packed both of our things

Rin Noona

Fuck we did it

We’re free

Alright— I’ve just said bye to Lola

Meet you by the bus stop? I’ll call us a taxi from there.

Hyerin whined as she woke up in Bobby’s room, human arms stretching over her head as she regained her bearings. The flashback wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to be thrown off like that. But perhaps it would work; a little improvising wouldn’t hurt – the face she shared with the Mafia taught her that much.

“because people are talk-talking sir.”

“Then let them…seems like I need to teach you how to keep your mouth shut.”

Oh? So it wasn’t only the hybrids who wanted to leave. The staff wanted them gone too. She could work with that.

Looking at the exterior of the casino one last time before he pulls the luggage with him, Yeosang walks as fast as he can through the winter chill, his tail wrapping around him to provide just that little bit of extra warmth. The more he walks, the more relieved he feels. It was over; months of working off a debt that was finally paid off.

Waving off her girlfriend at the bus stop, Hyerin decidedly feels much lighter; she’s spent the day with her mate, and Yeosang put the last part of their escape plan into action. Listening to the Mafia pays off, it seems.

Mafia Me is calling

“Yes? Did you bring the change of clothes? I’m at the bus stop, I guess you know which one.”

“I’m going to ignore you blatantly insulting my intelligence, wolf. Yes, I brought the clothes; you really think this ‘Bobby’ will be this receptive?” Hyerin confirms what her counterpart asks, and there’s something in the back of her mind that notices how much more the Mafia woman uses their Daegu satori.

She’s proud of it. I’m not.

Surely, the phone hangs up and minutes later Hyerin sees the Bentley pull into the closest car park, a text telling her to hurry up wolf pinging on her phone. So off she went, those same wolf ears picking up anything that could possibly be out to get her.

“You really wear this every day?” Hyerin asks, looking herself over in the mirror. She’s dressed in all black, a hat to match and the hybrid would be a dirty liar if she refuses to admit that it makes her look powerful. With her ears and tail hidden, she really does look like a clone of the con woman behind her, now donning something a lot more casual.

“Yes, now hurry up and meet your ferret friend, he’s waiting for you, right?”

“He should be there right now; thanks again Rin.”

“You’re welcome, now go on and get lost.”

Engulfing Hyerin in a hug as the two board the bus en route to take them home, Yeosang sinks into his chair, never more grateful for the scuffed leather and slightly worn embroidery. He shifts, his ferret form squeaking with happiness as he curls up in his seat, ready for the hour or so long nap he’s been craving.

The house looks just like they left it that day, months ago, and both hybrids can already the commotion of people behind the door; Seonghwa cooking with Wooyoung, playful barking while San is screaming at what is definitely the TV screen. Yeosang reaches for the doorknob first, fishing for his keys and opening the door with practiced ease.

Seven pairs of eyes dart towards the front door.

“We’re home.”

@halloween-idols

[solinarimoon]

Fields of Wildflowers, Chapter 12

Fields of Wildflowers 

Chapter 12

A Sihtric x OC story

AN: My timeline for events during the siege in Winchester is different from the show.  I almost combined this chapter with the events for the next one but they would have been too long.  The moodbaord was made for me by the lovely @serasvictoria. You can find my master list here.

Warnings: Trauma from past rape.

Word Count: 3666

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

Eight days. Cwen and Eadith had been inside the walls of Winchester for eight days. Without any success in finding their people. 

The ladies had been able to narrow down the possibilities and were almost entirely certain they were being held somewhere in the palace. 

It had been relatively simple to slip in among the kitchen maids and find odd jobs and help that was needed there.  A large Danish woman, Frig had taken over commanding the kitchens and she barked orders around to anyone who would take them.

When asked where they had come from or who they were, Eadith would reply that they were former kitchen maids for a saxon lord and only sought to be of use to avoid being taken as a slave.

Various of the other women in the kitchens had similar stories, seeking to avoid becoming a Dane’s property so instead found usefulness in the kitchens. Quiet, useful, and out of the way.

This was how both women found themselves bringing stale bread and water to the armory.

The jail cells at the armory were full with low born Saxon’s now to be sold as slaves.  

Cwen and Eadith had quite the time ferreting their way around there to discreetly check faces and make general inquiries. 

“They haven't put any royals in here with the likes of us, girl.”

The old crone had shifted her eyes up and down, taking in Cwen’s appearance. 

“You’re quite lovely. Don’t look like you’ve had too much wear and tear on ya. Haven’t needed to live the hard life have you, missy?”

The woman’s words were cruel and her tone scornful. 

Cwen shifted her gaze towards Eadith who was speaking to another prisoner down the hall, “nor her neither. What are you even doing in here? Asking about this for?”

Cwen searched for an answer to the woman’s prying. 

“I… we…” she stammered feeling herself begin to panic. 

“We need to be going.  We’re wanted back in the kitchen before long,” Eadith swooped in to take Cwen’s arm.

Leading her friend away from the woman’s hard stare, Eadith quieted her friend's worries.

“It will be alright.  That old woman was just being rude.  She doesn’t know anything about us.  Not a threat.  It’s ok.”

Cwen sighed, frustrated. “I know.  And we shouldn’t need to go back to the cells any longer now we know they’re not there.  But still, she could tell someone we have been asking questions.  That two kitchen maids are nosing about.  Then they figure out it is two imposter kitchen maids.”

Cwen sighed, scanning their path for watchful eyes as they walked before she continued. “Did anyone you spoke with seem to have any ideas where they might be keeping them?”

“One man told me his lips might release information if they were reminded what a kiss felt like…”

Cwen stopped in her tracks to look at Eadith with a shocked expression.  As her shock faded, both women let out loud guffaws, feeling some of the tension and worry ease from their shoulders.  

They continued their walk towards the kitchens in the rear of the palace.  

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

The women slowly walked the perimeter of Winchester, looking for any sign of a way in, not guarded or any news of the location of their friends.  

The weather had grown hotter in the past week since they had gone inside the walls.

Most of the inhabitants of the town were finding shelter underneath roofs and in shade to try and stay cool.  Tensions had been building and occasionally Cwen and Eadith would see squabbles break out among the bored and sweaty Danes.

“So Cwen,” Eadith started as they slowly meandered along the wall, “was Sihtric not happy with you for coming with me into the city?”

Cwen stopped in a huff, placing her hands on her hips and looking at the ground before meeting Eadith’s eyes.

“No.  He was not.  But…,” pausing, Cwen shifted on her feet and searched for the words.  

“But…?” Eadith prodded.

The women continued their route, eyes scanning the wall before Cwen found the words she wished to speak.

“It was odd.  When I said I could not sit by and do nothing, his reply was to say that may be better than doing something foolish.  His words were harsh. His tone, I mean.  But so were my own.  I pulled away from him.  But he did not argue further.  Made no pleas.  Just gave me a knife and showed me how to use it.”

“Would you rather he had argued?  Made more of a fight against our plan?”  Eadith had stopped to look down an alley before looking forward and taking more steps to catch back up with Cwen.

The question caught Cwen off guard.  

The way that they had left, with the last words spoken between them being bitter and harsh had been weighing heavy on Cwen’s heart.  

“In truth,” Cwen looked at Eadith as she caught back up with her, “I do not know what to think about it.  On the one hand, yes.  I wish he had fought with me.  Argued with me. But it would not have changed anything.  I would have still come.  So maybe I am glad he did not?” Cwen’s voice questioned the thoughts running through her own mind.  “I think he knew his words would not change my mind.  So is that not better then?  That we did not argue, say things that are hurtful only to then be separated?”  Cwen looked to her friend for some guidance.

“Possibly.  But now you are left with this weight hanging over you.  As I am sure he is too. Are there words that have been left unsaid, Cwen?”

Cwen did not immediately reply.  Instead the friends continued walking in silence.

Suddenly, a loud commotion resounded to their right at the north gate of the city.   

Cwen and Eadith ran along to meet a cross street seeing Danes come from across the city to meet the sound.

Shouts could be heard from many of the passing men, “It is their king!” “It is Edward!”

Cwen glanced at Eadith to see the woman staring at the tumult.

She placed her hand on her friend’s arm, “Now is our chance, Eadith!”

Her words startled Eadith  and she turned to look at Cwen.

“Chance?”

“To slip inside the palace, try to find them.”

“You mean while everyone is distracted by this attack?”

“That is exactly what I mean.  Let’s go.”

They slipped through the side streets, avoiding the wave of movement towards the gate.

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

Using the kitchen entrance, Cwen and Eadith followed along corridors, glancing in rooms and keeping eyes out for any sign of a room being guarded.  

Cwen sighed when they rounded a corner to find another long hallway with no guards.

“Why do they need so many hallways!” Eadith grumbled.

“We’re going to run out of time,” Cwen worried. “Wait!  Oh I should have thought of this first!  We need to check the chapel!  I bet that is where they would hold them!”

“Why there?” Eadith questioned as Cwen began leading the way along another corridor.

“For one, it is situated near the center of the palace so they’d not easily be able to slip out.”

“Or us slip in, I imagine then.”

“Yes, unfortunately.  And then two, it would be rather upsetting to be held captive and have lost Winchester only to deal with that while literally staring Alfred in the face.”

Eadith watched Cwen, expectantly as they marched along.

“Alfred’s entombed there.  His remains are enshrined.”

“Oh,” the redhead nodded in understanding.

Their footsteps echoed as Cwen navigated old passages from her girlhood.

Rounding a corner, they stopped short seeing a lone guard leaning against the wall across from a large door.

They slowed their pace as they approached, Cwen whispering, “That is the chapel.  They must be in there.  Follow my lead.”

“Hey, what are you two doing here?”

The Dane’s voice was rough, clearly surprised to see the two women approaching him.

“Oh, we were sent to collect the tray and plates from the prisoners.  See if they need more water.  Frig sent us.  From the kitchens.  But what are you still doing here?” Cwen questioned the man, not a note of uncertainty in her voice.

The guard stared at Cwen and Eadith, clearly not understanding the woman’s final question.

“And where should I be, if not here on duty?” 

“Well everyone, all the men are rushing to the north gate.  We heard something about all men needing to assemble.  That Edward was here and mounting an attack on the walls.  I just assumed any man, any warrior would have gone. Apologies.”

Just at that moment, another Dane appeared on the opposite end of the hallway, marching at a quick pace.

“Leiv, Edward’s at the gate!  We’ve got to go!”

“But the prisoners,” the guard, Leiv, protested.  His nose had wrinkled and he gestured in frustration towards the doorway across from him.

“They’re locked in tight.  And they don’t have anywhere to go.  Come on!”

Groaning and clearly conflicted, Leiv pointed his finger at Cwen, “If you need to get their plates, you’re going to have to come back later.  Door’s locked and it’s staying that way until I get back.”

With that final word, Leiv ran off to join his friend down the hall.  Within a few seconds they were gone, out of earshot.

Cwen and Eadith glanced at each other before moving to stand in front of the doorway.  

“Aethelstan! Lady Aelswith!  Stiorra! Are you in there?  Can you hear us?”

They waited. Then after several moments, they heard something on the other side.

Muffled and hard to understand, but clearly a response.

“We’re going to have to be loud to hear anything through that heavy wood,” placing her hand against the door, Eadith chewed her bottom lip. “I’ll go to the end of the hall and keep watch.  They’ll want to be speaking to you,” She placed her hand on Cwen’s shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze before moving along the way Leiv and his friend had disappeared.

Cwen watched her friend retreat before she turned back to the door.  Scanning the door before her, she crouched down to peer at the keyhole.  

“Hello! Lady Aelswith? It’s Cwen! Eadith and I are here.”

“Yes, yes we’re here.  Cwen! Thank God.  Thank you, God!”

Cwen rested her forehead on the door and breathed a sigh of relief before she brought her mouth back, close to the keyhole once more.

“Are you alright?  We’ve been looking all over for you.  Uhtred and his men are outside the walls of the city.”

“Yes, Cwen. We’re fine.  Our feathers are ruffled and these heathen brutes insist on demeaning and belittling us.  But we are alright.  But Cwen,” Aelswith paused.

Cwen strained her ears to listen.

“They took Stiorra.”

Cwen froze as she felt the breath catch in her throat. 

Shaking her head, Cwen managed to pant out, “took...took her? What? Where? Where did they take Stiorra?”

Lady Aelswith’s voice came back tight and measured. “We don’t know where they took her.  Lord Aethelred’s man, Eardwulf is here.  With the Danes.  He recognized her and told them she is Uhtred’s daughter.  So they took her and put us in here.”

A pulsating buzzing sound began to rise in Cwen’s ears.  She stepped back from the door staring but not seeing.

She was startled back to her senses by Eadith running to her side. 

“I'm starting to hear people.  We need to move.”

Cwen stared for one more second before she shook her head and brought her mouth back to the keyhole. “We have to go.  But we will try to get back and check on you all.  And we’ll find her.”

Eadith took Cwen’s arm and the two women quickly retraced their steps back to the kitchens.

“Find her?” The hushed question left Eadith’s lips as soon as they rounded the corner of the hall.

“Stiorra.  They know she is Uhtred’s daughter.  They separated her from the others.” 

“So we’ve found Aethelstan and Lady Aelswith but now we have no idea where Stiorra may be?”

“That’s right.  But Eadith,” Cwen paused, placing her hand on the friend’s arm to slow her.  “Your brother is here.  He recognized Stiorra.  He gave her up to the Danes.”

“Eardwulf is here?” Eadith grasped onto Cwen’s hand holding her arm.. 

Taking a shaking breath, Cwen met Eadith’s eyes and nodded.

“Alright,” Eadith spoke while formulating what their next course of action should be. “Alright, we’ve found two of our three people.  Now we must continue the search but remain even more hidden unless my brother find us.  Do you have any ideas where Stiorra might be?”

“No.  And I don’t dare keep looking right now.  We have to try again another time.”

“Let us return to the kitchens then and figure out a plan.”

The two women continued on to the kitchens where they casually made themselves useful amongst the other kitchen maids.

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

It was a few days later when the chance arose for one of them to find Stiorra.  The Dane woman in charge of the kitchens barked an order out at Cwen, who happened to be closest to her, that Sigtryggr had ordered food and ale be brought to the prisoner girl being held in the war room.

Cwen immediately knew the girl must be Stiorra, but had no idea what room the war room would be.

Carefully, she questioned the woman further. “Pardon, but which room is the war room? I've not brought that prisoner food yet.”

“It’s the room with all the scrolls and maps.  Large room at the end of the hall in the south corridor. Now get to it, girl.”

Cwen grabbed the tray of food and ale jug while making sure she caught Eadith’s eye.

Eadith had been pulled into kneading dough for the next day’s bread. Cwen gave her a short nod before leaving the room.

It must be King Alfred’s old study.  It was in the south corridor and had mountains of scrolls and books. Cwen mused to herself as she walked the halls.

When Cwen found the room, the set of double doors was closed, but not latched.  One door easily swung open when Cwen pushed on it with her hip.  

A young woman was sat at a long table facing away from the door, most of her long brown hair hanging down her back while some of it was piled at the back of her head in braids.

Hearing the door and Cwen’s footsteps, Stiorra turned and then gasped with shock to see her friend.

Quickly, Cwen placed her tray down and embraced the young girl.

“Oh thank the Lord I have found you,” pushing Stiorra back by the shoulders, Cwen took in her appearance, looking for any sign of distress or maltreatment.

“Are you well?  Why have they separated you from the others? We’ve been looking for days.”

“We? Who has been looking?” Stiorra questioned.

“Eadith and I,” Cwen replied. “But are you alright?” Raising her voice to talk over the older woman, Stiorra spoke, “I’m ok, Cwen.  Really, I am.  They’ve treated me kindly.  Sigtryggr removed me from the others so he could speak with me freely.  He has treated me well.” She finished with a small smile.

Cwen, albeit shocked, smiled back and embraced Stiorra once more. “Your father and his men are outside.” “And Edward too. I know,” Stiorra interrupted Cwen once more.

When Cwen stared at her questioningly, Stiorra replied, “Sigtryggr has told me.  He does not tell me all things, but,” smirking again, Stiorra continued, “we talk often.”

Cwen searched her friend’s face and saw no lie or hesitation. “I am glad to hear it.  The others, I fear, are not treated as kind.  Whenever the walls are breached, know that your father will find you.  We will find you.”

“I do not think Sigtryggr wants a fight, Cwen!”

“What do you mean he does not want a fight?  He has besieged us and…”

“Sigtryggr is different, Cwen.  He thinks.  He wants to understand Saxons.  I think he wants to be at peace with them.”

Cwen scoffed, “Well this is a strange way to go about bringing peace.”

Stiorra chuckled lightly while taking a seat, pulling Cwen to sit alongside her on the bench.

“I know, but would Edward have sat down with him before this?” When Cwen did not reply, because the answer was obvious, Stiorra continued, “I believe he wishes for land to settle and a peace to be reached.  He is trying to do something good for his people.  He does not seem to seek glory.”

“Such is your assessment of him?” Cwen asked.  Seeing Stiorra nod, Cwen paused to observe Stiorra once more. “And he has treated you well.  I can see it.  And I am glad, my dear.” Cwen rose to stand and Stiorra rose with her.  

“Now I must go before I am missed.  Eadith and I are here.  One of us will try to come back in a day or two to see you again.  Stay safe, Stiorra.”

“I am, Cwen,” Stiorra spoke while hugging Cwen once more tightly.

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

 It had been three days since Cwen had rejoiced with Eadith after finding Stiorra and learning she was safe. 

Another opportunity to speak with any of their companions had not presented itself though. Cwen and Eadith had needed to be content with helping out in the kitchens and continuing to look for weaknesses from within the walls. 

It happened while scouting along the southeast corridor for the third time. Cwen’s hair at the nape of her neck had stood on end and her heartbeat had become erratic before her eyes had even registered what they were seeing. 

That pulsing buzz returned to her ears and she had to sink back around a corner and slide down a wall, clutching at her legs and pulling them close. 

Luckily Eadith had been several paces behind Cwen and saw her collapse in fear.

Dropping to her friend’s side, she did not even have time to ask what had happened before Cwen was clutching at her and whispering, “Hide. We must hide.”

“Hide? From what?” Eadith replied in equal tones of panic.

“Eardwulf.  He comes this way.”

At that moment, footsteps and a lone voice became more pronounced approaching from the street.

“Come,” Eadith clutched at Cwen’s arms and stood, pulling her to stand and turn, abruptly walking back the way they had come. “Come now, just walk away.  That is all.”

Cwen allowed herself to be led away, but her breathing became more ragged. 

“He has not seen us.  We are just two more souls walking the streets.  Keep moving and breathe, Cwen.  We have to breathe.”

Eadith had begun talking to herself as much as to Cwen. 

They did not stop until they reached the courtyard outside of the kitchens where they both sat against the wall of the palace.  Crouched small and low.  Breathing hard.

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

That night, Cwen dreamed while she and Eadith lay huddled together in a small alcove of the kitchens.

She dreamed she was back in the fields outside of Saltwic.  

The golden and orange yarrow were waving in the breeze and purple and blue coneflowers joined the dance.  Small insects flitted about in the setting sunlight.  Dusky shadows were slowly stretching their arms across the field.

A man was standing watch over her, his shoulders broad and his feet firmly planted.  His head continually turning and searching, scanning the surrounding woods.

Sihtric turned to meet Cwen as she approached him, leaning her body into his and gripping tightly to his tunic. Her fingers fisting into the material, Cwen felt her teeth grind together and her shoulders tense. Her brow furrowed.

Turning her face up to look at him, Cwen could not hear a sound.  His lips were moving and he was speaking to her but the sounds never made it to Cwen’s ears.  His eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

The crease between Cwen’s brow deepened and she began shaking her head, pushing on Sihtric’s chest.

He brought both of his hands up to gently hold her neck and Cwen stilled as Sihtric rested his forehead against her own.

The gesture, one that was so intimate, so meaningful for Sihtric, would usually bring her peace.  Calm the raging bird, beating against the cage in her chest.

But this time, the dread and insecurity did not dissipate.

Cwen pulled back to find his eyes.

But was met with the dark, menacing eyes of Eardwulf.

His face was haggard and whiskers grew on his cheeks.  His eyes held the most danger.  They were tormented.  And they held anger.

Cwen felt the hands at her neck slowly shift to grasp her throat.

Eardwulf sneered through his teeth as he choked the life from her body.

Cwen’s sobs woke Eadith and the woman shook her friend awake, cradling her and whispering soothing words while feeling her friend shiver.

It took a long time before Cwen was able to regain control over her breathing and allow her body to relax.  Sleep did not come easy for the remaining hours of the night.

To be continued...

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

Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my taglist.

Tags: @maggiescarborough @pokeasleepingsmaug @nxrdist @mystic-shadows42 @emilyhufflepufftlk @magravenwrites @lauwrite1225 @morosemagick @thebohemianpenguin @mrsalwayswrite @notyourwildestdream @obipoelover @ecarroll1978 @93xdiagonxalley @nobodys-business-world @evelynshelby @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

[heliads]

What We Are

You’ve hated Draco Malfoy from the moment you met him at the Sorting Ceremony all those years ago. However, you have the strangest feeling that things are changing between the two of you- like just maybe, you like him more than you thought.

masterlist

You are eleven years old, small and swallowed up by the dark cloth of your school robes. You’re filling through the main aisle of the Great Hall, surrounded by a cluster of other anxious first years. Four long tables stretch down the room, two on each side of the hall and each filled with chattering students. Four banners hang at the end of the hall- ruby, emerald, gold, sapphire. One for each house. You’ve been briefed on the houses and their qualities by a newly formed friend, one Hermione Granger, but you’re still nervous. You don’t entirely know which one you belong to, although you have an inkling as to which one should be avoided.

Professor McGonagall begins listing off the names one at a time, and the subsequent first-years file up to her, place the worn Sorting Hat on their head, and receive their assigned House. After a while, your name is eventually called, and you make your way to the front. The Sorting Hat considers for a time, then a smile crawls across its weathered fabric features. “SLYTHERIN!” The word is shouted across the hall, and you feel a sinking pit yawn open in your stomach. Slytherin? That was the one house you were supposed to avoid.

You make brief eye contact with your new friend Hermione, who looks about as stricken as you feel, before settling into a place at the Slytherin table. The emerald-clad students around you clap you on the back, issuing congratulations, but you still feel uneasy. Wouldn’t it have been better to go to Ravenclaw, where all the smartest students belonged? Or brave Gryffindor, or dedicated Hufflepuff? Anywhere would be better than ambitious, cunning, snakelike Slytherin.

A boy seated one space down looks at you, taking in your glum expression. He has striking platinum blond hair, and appears to be a first year just like yourself. “Don’t look so upset. You got into the best house there is, you know. All of the students who go to Slytherin end up being the greatest lot here.” For some reason, the condescendingly arrogant tone of the boy gets to you, and you shoot back a haughty reply. “If all Slytherin students are like you, I don’t fancy staying here at all.” The boy’s expression changes into a glare, and he glowers at you for the rest of the dinner.

That boy would turn out to be Draco Malfoy, Slytherin House’s most famous elitist. The two of you would hate each other ever since that night, and that feeling of utter loathing would continue for years. You’re now far older than you had been as a wee little first year, and so is Draco, but your attitude towards him hasn’t changed a bit. He’s just so conceited, so full of himself- and you’re no better, you know that, but at least you try to hide it.

However, you were lucky enough to score yourself a bunch of friends who knew exactly why you hated Draco, and happened to feel the exact same way. Hermione had been your best friend ever since that first day on the Hogwarts Express, and you had introduced yourself to Harry and Ron around the same time she did. Now the four of you were a regular fixture on the grounds, and you wouldn’t change it for anything, even a few of the haughtier Slytherins (read: Draco Malfoy) made sure to mention that one of their house shouldn’t be mixing with the Gryffindors.

However, you didn’t really care what they thought. Yes, you were a Slytherin, and that meant a good many things: pride, ambition, and a thick skin in terms of others doubting you. So you became even better friends with Harry, Ron, and Hermione just to spite them. You often found yourself with them at the Quidditch games, walking across the grounds, sneaking out of your dormitory late at night for a couple of misadventures, or now, with you and Hermione studying together at a table out in a corner of a stone hall. 

One of the problems of being a Slytherin friend of three Gryffindors is that they could never go back to your common room to study with you, and you certainly weren’t allowed into their common room. Fred and George had offered to sneak you in loads of times, and you technically had been there before under Harry’s invisibility cloak, but for right now, you and Hermione were content to stay away from the roaring fires and plush red armchairs of the Gryffindor common room to work on a particularly gruesome Potions essay. You both wanted to finish it early, Hermione especially so she could then go teach it to Harry and Ron, so you stayed out of the lion’s dorm until you were adequately prepared.

Hermione sighs at the paper in front of her, wrinkling her brow in consternation. “Honestly, what does all of this even mean? I swear, Professor Snape’s directions get worse and worse with every assignment.” You nod fervently. “This prompt makes no sense, and I’ve been staring at it for the last fifteen minutes.” You drum your fingers on the table, thinking, then stand up. “I’m going to get that Potions primer from the library. You know, the one we were reading earlier? I thought I saw some similar wording in one of the chapters, and at any rate, I need an excuse to go stretch my legs. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Hermione waves goodbye as you head off down the stone corridors. The walk towards the library takes you across the courtyard, and you’re glad for the refreshing bite of the wind, even if it leaves your cheeks raw from the chill. You traipse inside the halls once more, twisting around corners until you reach the library, and gratefully slip through the doors to reach the towering bookcases crowding the room.

You stride purposefully through the shelves until you come to the row you’re looking for at last. Your eyes scan the titles in front of you, and you think you’re almost at the book until a familiar figure steps into the space right next to you. You don’t even have to look up to recognize him. You’ve seen his unwanted presence too many times for a case of mistaken identity.

Draco speaks first. “I’m surprised to see you, L/N. I didn’t think reading was one of your strong suits.” You raise an eyebrow, still perusing the books on the shelf. “Those are strong words coming from somebody who hit his peak academic performance as a weasel in the fourth year.” Draco rolls his eyes. “Ferret, not a weasel.” You look over at him at last, but can’t help a small grin. “Does it really matter? It was still a small animal, and it was still you.”

Draco heaves some dramatic and egotistical sigh, but folds his arms over his chest and stays put. He’s not looking for books, just standing there. In fact, his eyes keep flickering over to the corner of the library, near the door. You straighten up, following his gaze in confusion. “What are you doing?” You ask him, still trying to figure out what he’s looking at with such unease. “You don’t usually go out of your way to enjoy my company and you also keep staring at the door.”

Draco starts to mutter something about how not all of the library belongs to you, but you cut him off with a gasp of delight. “You’re hiding from Pansy Parkinson! She’s over there looking for you, and you’re trying to make sure she can’t see you by hiding behind all the bookshelves!” You laugh, and then start to raise your voice, as if you’re about to call her over. Instantly, Draco leans over you, pushing you against the bookcase and holding his wand against your throat.

“Don’t say a word.” His voice is cool and low. A teasing grin flickers across your lips, and you push his wand away with one finger. “What, you going to hex me, Malfoy? In the middle of the library? I think that would draw your favorite girl over here more than anything.” Draco just stares daggers at you, breath coming harshly in his chest. He stares there, unmoving, until you jerk your chin towards the doors. “Pansy’s gone. Now can you please let go of me?”

Draco waits a moment just to spite you, and then releases his grip on your wrist. You snatch your hand away from him with an air of disgust, and grab your potions book off of the shelf. “Never do that again.” You hiss at him, and stalk away. Who does he think he is, that lout? You’re still storming over the incident the whole way back to the table, and barely notice that Harry and Ron have joined you until you throw yourself back into your seat.

Hermione looks up at your abrupt arrival. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” You heave a sigh of irritation. “Draco Malfoy, that’s what’s wrong. I ran into that lowlife in the library. I just can’t stand him.” Harry nods knowingly, but Ron, who appears to be in an even worse mood than you, rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop complaining. You’re a Slytherin, he isn’t as bad to you.” This is entirely the wrong thing to say, and you know you should just ignore him but you’re still fired up from the confrontation in the library.

“Are you saying that Malfoy’s not as mean to me because I’m from his house?” Ron nods, ignoring Hermione pointedly shaking her head at him in an attempt to get him to stay quiet. “Yeah, I am. You keep pretending like he’s such a jerk to you, but you don’t have it half as bad as the rest of us. Honestly, you need to stop making such a big deal out of nothing.” You know you’re overreacting, but you can’t take Ron’s griping, not today. You stand up, slamming your books shut and sweeping your parchment and quills into your bag. 

“In that case, I suppose you don’t need my nothing when it comes to your potions essay. Good luck figuring that out.” You glance over at Hermione. “I’m sorry to leave in a rush, but I should be on my way. Swing by later if you need help.” Hermione says her chagrined goodbyes, and as you stalk away from the table, you can hear her laying into Ron already. The sound brings a smile to your face.

You’re still fuming over Draco and Ron and the god-awful Potions essay the next day, and your irritation must show because Pansy takes advantage of the opportunity to cross paths with you as you’re walking through the halls. She’s chattering with a group of her friends in the courtyard, and as you hurry past, you hear her call something out to you. “Oh look, there’s Y/N. You know, she looks surprisingly proud for someone who’s father is a mudblood-lover. Maybe she’s alright with it.”

Your footsteps slow, and you turn back to face Pansy. You know that this is just what she wants, but you’ve got a burning feeling in the back of your head that tells you that if you let one more person walk all over you you’ll never be able to deal with yourself again. You eye Pansy coolly. “What was that, Parkinson?” Pansy smirks, victorious. “I heard a rumor that your father was getting a little too close to some Muggles. That would certainly tarnish your reputation, wouldn’t it? And here I was, thinking that the L/Ns were an upstanding wizarding family, but I guess not. It looks like-”

You feel like you’re a couple of seconds away from punching Pansy right in her arrogantly prissy face, but before you can try to argue yourself out of violence another boy steps up beside you. You groan inwardly when you realize it’s Draco. Great, another person to make fun of you, because this day wasn’t going badly enough already. However, he doesn’t join in the laughter. In fact, he shoots a glare at Pansy. “Amazing, Parkinson. Did you finally realize that your own family was so low that you had to make up rumors to get anywhere? Although, you might want to stay away from the Muggle story. I think it might be a little too true on your end.”

Pansy’s face blanches, and she starts stammering something about how that couldn’t possibly be true and she has no idea what Draco’s talking about. You stare at Draco in amazement, and he turns back to you. “Let’s go. I don’t feel like wasting any more of our time.” With that, the two of you strut away across the courtyard, leaving Pansy behind to make up excuses to her group of friends.

Only when you’re out of hearing distance from Pansy do you finally let yourself relax. You look over at Draco, unable to stop yourself from laughing. “What was that about? Is it really true about Pansy’s family?” Draco, surprisingly, is grinning as well. “I don’t know, but she didn’t seem like she could deny it.” The two of you carry on in hilarity for a while, but then you turn to him, grin slipping away from your face. “Why did you do that?” Draco frowns. “Do what?” You gesture idly behind you with your hand. “Defend me against Parkinson. I would have thought you’d join in instead of having my back.”

Draco shrugs, looking down the hallway. “We’re supposed to be enemies, aren’t we? I don’t feel like having my rival limited by false rumors. It would lower me too.” You look at him askance. “You publicly insulted Pansy Parkinson just because you think that me being called names hurts you as well?” Draco shrugs. “Why did you think I did it?” You sigh, furrowing your brow. “I don’t know.”

Even after you and Draco turn down separate hallways, you find yourself still thinking about him. Why would he defend you? It makes no sense. You even think back to that moment in the library, and realize that he wasn’t really as cruel as you had thought. All he had done then was exchange the usual retorts, although those had the same joking tinge as always. And wasn’t it strange that of all the places to hide, he had chosen your aisle? It could have just been a coincidence, or maybe he was seeking you out intentionally.

You’re not sure how you feel about this. You’ve grown so used to thinking of Draco as an enemy, someone to be hated, that you don’t quite know what to do when he is nice to you. You find your eyes flickering his way in the common room, or your gaze constantly catching on his silhouette as he walks past you in the halls. You usually never spend this much time thinking about him, but now, he seems to be everywhere.

One night, you can’t focus on your homework. Between the smoky atmosphere of the Slytherin common room or the mind-twisting Transfiguration tasks McGonagall’s set for you, you just can’t seem to get your thoughts in order. Eventually, you close up your books and decide to head to the Astronomy Tower. The cool night air will clear your head, and you’ll still technically be doing homework because you’ll be studying the stars.

You’re grateful for the still emptiness of the tower. You prop your arms up against the stone edge of the balcony, letting your shoulders slump as you consider the dizzying drop to the grounds below. You tilt your head up slightly, letting the wind trace patterns against your skin. You’re just beginning to feel peaceful once again when you hear the door to the Astronomy Tower open and a figure joins you on the turret. You sigh inwardly when you recognize the familiar shock of white-blond hair. Of course- Draco always goes to the Astronomy Tower as a place to unwind. Then you’re surprised as to why that fact popped so readily into your head, and how you even knew that in the first place.

Draco’s steps falter for a second when he realizes he’s not alone. You start to move away from the balcony. “Here, I’ll go. You can have the tower to yourself.” You turn around to find yourself caught in Draco’s gaze, those storm grey eyes pinning you in place. Draco shakes his head just slightly, and his voice echoes across the stone room. “No, don’t go. It’s alright.” You hesitate for a moment, then turn back to the view before you. Your eyes follow the line of trees dotting the grounds, the twisting snakes of rivers that feed into the Black Lake.

After a moment, Draco joins you at the balcony. He leans up against the stone, just a few inches away from you. You both stand there in silence, unable to say a word. At last, Draco turns to you. “What are we?” You return his gaze, slightly confused. “What?” Draco looks away for just a second, and then his eyes return to you. “When we first met, we hated each other. We’ve been rivals for years, and now-” He breaks off. “I don’t think we dislike each other anymore. I don’t think we have for a while.” You stay silent for a second, taking in his words. Then you nod.

“There’s something else, isn’t there? It isn’t just me?” For a moment, you think you’ve gone too far, spoken too rashly. Draco stares at you, then he leans forward and kisses you. When he breaks away, panic and regret flash through his eyes when you don’t say anything. He starts to move away, but you step towards him and kiss him again. This time, he doesn’t break away, not immediately. His hand slides up to the small of your back, the stone of the balcony cool against your legs.

You can still feel his hand on your waist when he breaks away. You look away, sure you’ve made some mistake that you’ll regret in the morning, but then his fingers are lightly pressed against your cheek, guiding you back to look at him again. He looks less sure of anything than you’ve ever seen him, but all of a sudden that doubt is replaced by a calm determination. “This is right. This is what we were supposed to be.” You nod quietly, letting your hesitation break free with a smile. He’s right, isn’t he? No matter how it felt to win all the arguments or competitions with him, this moment right now feels far better than anything before it. This is what you always wanted, and what he wants as well.

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine being Tenzin's eldest daughter and dating Bolin which Tenzin isn't very pleased with. So Tenzin makes it his mission to keep you and Bolin apart which just means the two of you find sneakier ways to be together.

Part Two here

Tenzin got back to his house and for once it was quiet, confused where the small army he shared his house with was he approached his second eldest daughter Jinora. "Where's korra?" Tenzin asked. "With Asami". "And Ikki and Meelo?". "With uncle Boomi". “And your mother?”. “Out with Aunt Kya”. Tenzin smiled everyone was taken care of and he could finally relax. "And y/n and Bolin?" Tenzin asked relaxing into his chair. "They'e in y/n's room" Jinora shrugged and Tenzin jumped up "with the door closed? Y/n" he bellowed pushing the door open with air bending. "Okay okay im sorry" he heard you yell and Tenzin sighed having your boyfriend stay here was making him age faster.

You and Bolin were in your room relaxing on the bed preparing to watch a movie. For once you didn’t have to babysit your younger siblings or train so had rushed off for some privacy with Bolin and your dad almost kicked the door down. Your dad was insanely worried about leaving you and Bolin alone despite the fact you were dating and Bolin was the sweetest guy in the world. Bolin had been trying to show you the mover he was in for week but you never had a spare moment where you could be alone with him. So when your dad had gone out and left you and Bolin with no task it seemed like the perfect time. You were determined your dad wouldn’t stop another one of your dates but of course he managed to. When your door flew open you sighed and called back you’d leave it open as per your dad’s many rules about you and Bolin. You looked to Bolin worried this would ruin the date but Bolin didn’t seem to mind. The movie started and you moved closer to Bolin to lean against him and he accomodated you hugging you against him. You and Bolin were just getting into the movie, despite the noise your family was making throughout the house when your father knocked on the open door and walked in. "Y/n its getting late, i think you and Bolin should get ready to go to sleep soon so he should go do that in his room soon". You nodded at your dad in reply so engrossed in the film you didn’t realise he hadn’t left. Tenzin coughed and you both looked up to see he didn't look impressed. "Ow you mean now?" Bolin asked and Tenzin nodded "well yes i think that'd be best". You blushed as Tenzin stood waiting glaring at Bolin. Bolin jumped up obediently while you pouted annoyed. Bolin paused the film and gathered his things and smiled "we can finish the movie tomorrow". You nodded "i suppose" and Bolin went to step towards you when Tenzin actually growled. A literal noise escaped his throat at Bolin daring to step closer to you. You sighed but Bolin just smirked and left shooting you a smile. Tenzin watched him go staring into his back and then turned to your door and fixed two bells around the door handle. "Dad!" You cried "what is that?". "Nothing just a decoration...". "You're doing it so you’ll know if i leave my room! Do you not trust me?". "I trust you y/n but i do not trust teenage boys! And i have to do my duty as your father! Having your boyfriend under the same roof..i have to take precautions". "But you didn't do this for Mako and Korra!". "Yes well Korra is older than you and Mako is more responsible than Bolin". You groaned and Tenzin coughed "you weren’t going to break the rules so this shouldn’t be an issue for you". You rolled your eyes "fine whatever...can i go to sleep now?". Tenzin nodded "i am only doing it because i love you y/n, if you have children you’ll understand". You huffed and Tenzin frowned "well goodnight y/n". "Goodnight dad" you said exasperatedly as the door closed but you didn’t plan on sleeping. Your dad hadn’t put bells on your window so as soon as you heard him go to bed you got ready. You gathered what you needed and climbed out of your window before airbending onto the roof. You carefully climbed across the roof to Bolin’s room and landed outside his window. You knocked on Bolin’s window film projector in hand and saw the curtains swing aside as Bolin realised it was you. "Y/n" Bolin grinned hanging out of his window "what are you doing here?". "Well we didn't get to finish the movie because of my dad so i figured we could now without him knowing?". Bolin hesitated for two seconds before grinning "yes come on it!". It had only been lightly raining but Bolin still wrapped a blanket around you before bringing you back to your prefered spot on the bed. He bustled around getting the movie ready and the secret snacks Tenzin didnt know about before jumping down next to you.

The film finished and Bolin looked at you anxiously "so what did you think...i wasn't sure if it was too far fetched and could you tell i couldn’t do my stunts properly and i didn’t look that great in that scene with the royal guards...". "Bolin" you said grabbing his shoulders "it was great! You were great in it, your stunts were amazing, your acting was really good and you looked well..." you trailed off blushing "basically it was amazing and i really enjoyed it!". "Really?" Bolin asked and you nodded. Bolin seized you in a hug and it made you blush he valued your opinion so much. "Im so glad you like it" he smiled putting you back down "your opinion means a lot to me" he blushed and you smiled. "Yours too Bolin" you told him "you're one of the most important people to me". Bolin's blush grew and he looked down his eyes slightly glazed. Bolin smiled and took your hand "you're pretty important to me too y/n" and kissed you softly. Bolin was always so caring and affectionate he just always made you feel loved and safe. He never pressured or rushed you, he was the best man you'd ever met. You broke away blushing and smiled at him before sighing "i should probably go". Bolin frowned "are you sure i mean it's not even that late...plus it's raining really heavily outside you could get a cold or get blown off the roof! Or lost". "Lost? My rooms practically across from yours!" you smirked but Bolin shrugged "i still don’t think you should risk it". You smirked "so what i stay here until the rain stops...that could be all night". Bolin shrugged "i just think it’d be safer it probably won’t be all night" he argued but his tone told you he hoped it would be. You smirked and nodded "fine..i guess i can stay for a bit longer and see if it stops". Bolin grinned "that's a very good decision y/n i must say". "Stop it" you pushed him before blushing as he grabbed your hand. You smiled and leant into him "i might nap while im here for a bit, if that's okay?". Bolin nodded "of course" and gathered even more blankets to keep you warm. You smiled getting into the blankets and Bolin got in beside you. With a bolt of lightning the rain came down ever harder. You noticed and Bolin pretended to look away. "i didn’t do anything!" he said when he felt you looking at him. "Mh hmmm?" You asked laying beside him but you were smiling. "Promise" Bolin smiled putting an arm around you. Bolin was so broad you fitted against him easily and curled up against his side. Bolin wrapped his large arm around you and you felt do safe and warm with the rain pounding against the window. "Goodnight y/n" Bolin smiled kissing your forehead and you smiled closing your eyes. "Goodnight Bolin".

You vaguely heard voices and groaned trying to sunk further into the warmth and Bolin. You buried your head against his chest and fell back to sleep when suddenly Bolin’s door was thrown open. "Y/n" Tenzin screetched and you and Bolin jolted awake. Bolin let out a yelp as Tenzin stared his eyes bulging. "You didn’t put bells on my windows?" you offered and your father turned even more red. "I’ll be putting bars on your window young lady if you dont stay in your assigned room!" He yelled and to your dismay others flocked to the room. "Did you find her?" Asami asked before smirking "ow...i see". "She's in here?" Mako asked "but thats Bolins room" before trailing off as Korra stumbled in too. "Well you did want Y/N to help rebuild the air nation" Korra smirked before she halted as Tenzin spun on her making the avatar gulp. "Is there something funny about my little girl growing up?" Tenzin yelled at them "no? Didn’t think so! Y/n get out of there right now and march yourself to your room this instance". You distangled yourself from Bolin and all the blankets and stood up red faced. "Sir it wasnt y/ns fault..." Bolin tried but Tenzin silenced him with a look. "You are grounded young lady and if i ever find you in his room again i'll...i'll take away your bison!". "Dad...." you groaned but he shook his head "no buts now to your room". You rolled your eyes but did as he said.

Later you sat in your room avoiding your dad's wrath when you heard someone near your window and opened your suprisingly still unlocked window to see Pabu. "Pabu?" You asked as he scampered in and dropped something on your bed. You grinned to see it was a note from Bolin with a wild flower attached "so guess you're our go between huh Pabu" You asked the fire ferret as you fed him a treat as payment. Pabu made a happy noise and you smiled before turning to Bolin’s note. "Sorry i got you in trouble but it was worth it" he wrote "think your dads gonna have us under surveillance for a while but i'm sure we can work around it. I'm game if you are and next time we wont get caught. Love Bolin". You smiled hiding your note and wrote a quick reply before handing it to Pabu who ran off to give it Bolin. You picked up the flower Pabu had also brought and smirked, you had the best boyfriend ever. Father be damned you’d find a way to see him.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 22)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Peter Quill x Reader Word Count: 3377 Warnings: fluff, angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: I’m not going to lie, you’re going to be mad for a while. Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 21 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

If you told yourself that after what happened Bucky you would be smiling and laughing more than ever before you would have called yourself crazy. At one point it felt like you would never be happy again and then you met Peter.

Peter was the sun that shined brightly pushing the clouds away. You went on a few more dates, texted everyday and found that there was no longer room in your mind for sadness. Bucky was the past and though you didn’t want to be friends at the moment you didn’t hate him as much as you had before.

“Ooh flowers! Someone must really like you,” Mr. Lee said, smiling from the security booth.

You smiled walking over to him, setting down the large vase with the gorgeously arranged bouquet Peter had delivered to your office.

“I think he really does,” you beamed, thinking about how sweet Peter has been.

Sure it’s still very new but you really like him and can’t wait to spend the weekend together. He had both days off and it was so tempting to call out of your internship. If you hadn’t taken off last weekend for the stupid wedding you would have, but you know that you can’t.

Steve finally hangs up the call he was on, and you didn’t miss his tight lipped grimace and the way he eyed the flowers as if they had wronged him personally.

“If you’re happy with Peter I’m happy for you but you really need to let Bucky explain.”

Your eyes flared with a flash of rage wondering if Steve betrayed your trust and spoke to Bucky and on top of that you were really tired of people telling you what they think you need to do. You bite your tongue, not wanting to berate Steve in front of Mr. Lee with the variety of colorful words that were swirling in your mind.

Instead you replied calmly with only the teeniest hint of sass in your voice, “Steve, there’s nothing to explain and I don’t care.” You wished Stan a good weekend, grabbed the flowers and walked out.

Steve knows you’re lying, that despite what you said you’re still hurt, he just wished you weren't so stubborn about admitting it.

Laughter filled the air in Peter’s apartment as the two of you danced in his living room, the lively music from his “Awesome Mix Vol. 1” playlist bouncing off the walls. Groot lays across the couch watching as Peter’s other pet, Rocket, a ferret with raccoon coloring thanks to the dark mask around his eyes, tries to unhook the latch of his cage.

Life has been so much happier with Peter in it. You love snuggling up next to him, petting Groot who insisted his head stay in your lap as you watched a movie together. Peter’s lips press a gentle kiss on your forehead, stirring you from the sleep you had nearly given in to. A tender smile spreads across your face as you look up to him, reaching forward to kiss him. A surge of desire ignited your senses, leaving you and Peter to some heavy petting that did not involve Groot.

The following Friday night you and Peter were eating at his place, trying your best to ignore poor Groot who whimpered beside the table. Steam was rising from the fresh pizza that sat on the table and as appetizing as it looked your stomach couldn’t help but twist with a little guilt. But pizza wasn’t something exclusive to Bucky, that’s silly. You could have pizza– it’s food, it’s fine. You shook off the thoughts.

Groot’s eyes followed the slice in hand to your mouths, gruffly barking in frustration because he wanted some.

“Down,” Peter commanded after Groot pawed at him.

You gave the dog a sympathetic smile, feeling bad as you continued to eat. Your eyes shifted towards your screen that lit up with a message from Wanda, wondering if you were going to make it tonight. You hadn’t hung out with everyone in a long time, spending whatever days Peter had off together. And then there was the fact of really not wanting to run into a certain someone, but Wanda assured you Bucky was not there.

It would be nice to introduce Peter to everyone, maybe Steve could change his attitude if he met the man that made your cheeks ache from smiling so much.

“My friends are all hanging out at a bar right now and invited me so, I don’t know if it’s too early for this but if you maybe wanted to come with me?” You cringed at yourself, realizing how you unconfidently rambled on.

“Sure kitten, I’d love to meet your friends.”

“Really?” You bit your bottom lip, smiling widely as Peter’s hand reached over to caress your cheek.

“I’d do anything for you.” The light sparkled in his eyes as he stared at yours, dropping his gaze to your lips and gradually back up again.

You would have texted Wanda back if your fingers hadn’t carded through Peter’s hair, your lips on his as he lifted you up, your thighs wrapping around him as he carried you to the bedroom. An unwatched table left Groot alone, happy to steal a slice for himself.

The night air was cool on your hot skin, still a little sweaty after your romp with Peter. You wondered if the smell of sex lingered on you, walking towards the bar together and stopping every few paces because Peter couldn’t keep his hands off you. With his arms around your waist he pulled you close to him, the metal gate of a closed store clanging as he leaned against it to capture your lips.

You were all smiles by the time you walked into the bar, hand in hand with Peter. Your eyes lit up when you spotted Steve and Clint, with Peggy and Natasha being revealed the closer you got to the table. You saw the back of Wanda’s head and were about to call out for her but your voice died in your throat as you spotted two familiar faces.

Bucky, and with him was that woman, Claire.

Your lips press tightly as you stare at her. Looks like Bucky kept his date after all, adding another fuck buddy to his mix since you left.

“Hey Y/N! Glad you could make it!” Sam waved you over.

Wanda whipped her head around, her brows raising with concern. With the squeeze of Peter’s hand against yours you put on a smile. Sam was the first to get up and introduce himself but you took over, introducing Peter to everyone including Bucky and the woman whose name you pretended you forgot.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Wanda said, smiling tensely.

She grabbed your arm before you had a chance to stop her, pulling you into the women’s room.

Her hands balled into tight fists that she shook in frustration. “I wish you told me you were coming. I thought you didn’t answer because you weren’t and Bucky only showed up like twenty minutes ago but if I knew I would have– ”

“Wanda, I don’t care.” She studied your smile, looking for cracks in the facade she knew you had to be wearing.

“Uh huh, okay.” She rolled her eyes not believing you. “It’s barely been three weeks and you’re telling me that you don’t care? That’s bullshit Y/N and you know it.”

“Wanda, I mean it!” you snapped. “Bucky and I had sex– that’s it!” The cutting motion of your hand emphasized your words. “I’m with Peter now and I’m happy so you need to drop it, okay?”

You pulled the handle of the door roughly, wanting to quickly get back to Peter. A smile graced his face with everyone’s eyes on him. You slid in next to him, catching the tail end of a question Clint had asked.

“Hmmm craziest story. Well there was a time we got called to an apartment in Queens because this kid had a Q-tip stuck in his ear.”

Everyone wore a look of confusion that only grew the more Peter spoke.

“It was this high school kid with his buddy and one of ‘em thought a spider crawled in his ear. So apparently they were trying to shake it out but it wasn’t working so the other thought they could dig it out with a Q-tip but he pushed a little too far and panicked, thinking it was stuck in his brain.”

“And what happened?” Peggy asked.

“The EMT’s were able to remove the Q-tip but the whole time the kid was freaking out, saying he could feel the spider biting him in his ear but they didn’t see anything.”

Claire spoke up, not that you wanted her to. “That’s why I always advise patients not to stick anything in their ears.” Whatever miss know-it-all, I’m sure Sam would say the same thing too.

“But the weirdest thing is that a week later I saw this same kid walking by the station so I ran out to see how he was doing. He turned down an alley and then he was gone, disappeared outta nowhere. So I look up…” Peter paused, making eye contact with everyone before finishing, “... and he’s climbing up the walls– like a spider!”

Everyone burst into a fit of laughter and Peter admitted the first half of the story was true. He wrapped his arm around you, proud to have seemingly won over your friends’ approval. Most of them at least. You tried not to make eye contact with Bucky but it was hard. You felt his gaze burn deeper with every sign of affection Peter showed, and anytime you happened to give in and catch his eyes you felt your upper lip tremble.

But this was fine. The chapter in your life with Bucky is over. It wasn’t even a chapter really, it was a short story, a few lines of prose and it’s over. This is fine.

This is fine...

It took a while to fall asleep that night. Even though your body was desperate to rest after another an amazing round of sex with Peter your mind could not shut off. You were thinking of Bucky and the emotion that poured through his eyes, the tense line solidified in his lips. Was he upset with you? He couldn’t be. You haven’t done anything wrong. You weren’t the one that fed him lies and played with his heart like a game, tossing it aside for a shinier toy. No. If Bucky is upset that’s all on him, because he let you go and not the other way around.

In the early morning you and Peter walked with Groot until you went separate ways, the two of them heading to the station to begin Peter’s shift and you headed home. You didn’t bother sneaking in like you had before. If Bucky heard you then whatever, you don’t care, but you don’t want to speak to him.

Last night had been very awkward, having not said a word to each other. You’re not sure if anyone who wasn’t aware of the situation realized there was tension, though Natasha had given you a curious look when you said goodbye. If she didn’t know she probably suspected and you’re fairly certain you’ll be under interrogation soon.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky was under the same scrutiny. His mom was still tagging you on Facebook posts, a mix of funny animal videos and “mom approved” memes. Does she know what happened? Probably, considering the Fourth of July is coming up and she hasn’t extended a barbecue invitation. Does she know about Claire? So far you hadn’t seen Claire Temple on her friends list.

Yes, you stalked her through Bucky’s Instagram. It’s not a big deal, you just wanted a little more information about who she was.

                                              Claire Temple            Compassionate Helper 👩🏽‍⚕️ Avid Runner 🏃🏽‍♀️ Coffee Addict ☕

Scrolling through her photos you learned she is a nurse and (after having a minor heart attack) you learned she used to work at Metro-General. She doesn’t post much, a few pictures of the sun setting between the skyscrapers or graffiti on the side of the building; typical aesthetic pictures. But sprinkled in between those were pictures of her with people; colleagues from her new job at Sacred Saints, smiling as her arms barely wrapped around a brick of a man; her brightly colored sleeves popping against the umber of his skin. She grinned from ear to ear with him, ex-boyfriend perhaps?

Stop stalking her Y/N, stop it now!

You exit her profile, vowing not to look again though you’re not sure how much you trust yourself to keep that promise. But then again Claire was just one of many people that Bucky was sleeping with, so unless she was insanely clingy you didn’t think she’d be flaunting a picture of a guy she knew she didn’t have a chance with.

Besides none of this mattered anyway. Even if Winnie invited you to a barbecue you wouldn’t have been able to go because the Fourth of July happens to be Steve’s birthday and everyone was getting together to celebrate.

Luckily Peter had off the whole weekend and you were so happy he was coming with you. He looked very handsome in his FDNY shirt with casual shorts that showed off his thick calves while you stuck with a mostly red, white and blue theme, breaking out your red converse again with jean shorts and a blue tank top with stars on it.

In the late afternoon you boarded a crowded train to Brooklyn where Peggy’s friend Carol was happy to host a party to celebrate America and America’s ass. Apparently that was her nickname for Steve, teasing him with it because she knows how red he turns when he hears it.

Steve and Carol became close because of Peggy and though she seemed a little reserved at times you could tell they had broken the ice with each other. You met Carol before, seeing her at Steve’s apartment, and with her girlfriend Val when everyone went out for Peggy’s birthday a few months back. Carol lived in a building right off the water in Brooklyn Heights and had the perfect view for fireworks.

Hand in hand you and Peter walked down a lively street with kids riding their bicycles past you, and rhythmic music flowing from open windows. You were buzzed into the building, climbing up a hefty flight of stairs before reaching Carol’s apartment.

Val opened the door, her face lighting up as she threw her arms around you. There was barely a moment to admire the white stars painted around the eyes of her light brown skin as she introduced herself to Peter, catching him off guard in a welcoming hug before inviting you both in.

“Can I get you guys something to drink?” she asked, gesturing to the assortment that filled the kitchen counter, various bottles of soda and seltzer, beers, bottles of liquor. “Firecracker jello shot?” she offered, holding out a tray of them.

“I think I’ll say hi to everyone first, thanks,” you replied, making your way into the living room.

Steve was staring at the view from the window, setting the beer down from his hand when he heard you call his name.

“Happy Birthday!” you greeted, hugging him tightly. “What’s this?” You smirked, pointing to his jaw as he and Peter were saying hello. “Too lazy to shave on your birthday?”

Steve ran his fingers along the beginnings of a scratchy beard. “I think I’m growing it out.”

“I wonder what Peggy thinks… Peggy!” you turned to shout for her, seeing her on the other side of the room with Carol.

You said hello to them, meeting a few of Carol’s friends along the way. Soon more of your friends showed up and you were having a great time until Bucky and Claire walked through the door. You were the closest one to the entrance, wishing you had Peter by your side to distract you but he had been caught up in a conversation with Carol about her time as an Air Force pilot.

“Uh hey Y/N,” Bucky spoke, your name a foreign word on his tongue, “Happy Fourth.”

It was probably because of the fact that you were on the spot, with all eyes on you as Sam shouted for Bucky, that he leaned in to give you a half hug. Your palms didn’t quite make it up to return the favor. His touch reminded you of the ways he had you crying out his name, but now you shivered because it all felt wrong. Claire actually hugged you though she was a little hesitant, unsure if meeting you once constituted a greeting like this.

You made your way back to the living room, uneasy and in need of a distraction, not finding that in Peter who was still deep in conversation. Clint’s gaze caught you from the opposite side of the room, and he signed asking if you were bored. You shook your head, forcing a smile and signed back, “Not with you here.”

Clint strode over, grabbing a handful of chips first before he stopped beside you. You hadn’t seen him that much so it was nice to catch up a little. He was so happy the school year was over, hoping now he and Natasha might have some time to actually plan their wedding.

“Speaking of couples, it’s weird to see that, right?” He nudged his chin towards Bucky and Claire.

“What’s weird?” You’ve seen Bucky’s fuck buddies before, that girl Dot tried to weasel her way into hanging out with everyone on St. Patrick’s Day but at least Bucky had the common sense to spare you all.

“Bucky. That he actually settled down. Who would’ve thought?”

Clint chomped on chips as your mind spiraled into panic. You tried to control the tremble of your voice as you asked for more details, finding out Bucky actually decided to date Claire. Bucky Barnes. The man that’s fucked more people than the American healthcare system was actually, seriously, honestly in a committed relationship.

Your heart pounded in your chest, overwhelmed by this knowledge that has you on the edge of screaming at the top of your lungs and bursting into tears. Your feet took you straight to Val, not having to do much convincing to get her to do a jello shot (or three) with you. It seemed she had sampled a lot already herself and you wanted to feel just as loose.

She wooed loudly, grabbing some patriotic tinsel that decorated the table and placing a bunch first behind your ear and then hers. She stumbled a little bit but you caught her, both of you laughing as you helped her stand somewhat upright, fixing the metal necklace engraved with some sort of Norse symbol from around her neck.

With a bit of booze in you things didn’t seem so bad, except for walking down the stairs, that wasn’t the best idea, but by the end of the night that’s what everyone did. Carol’s apartment was on a dead end street that led right into the entrance of a pedestrian walkway that stretched out above the highway. It had perfect views of Manhattan, the Brooklyn Bridge and the beautiful booming fireworks display.

Peter stood behind you the whole time, his arms around your waist, face nestled in your neck pressing a kiss that made you squirm in delight. But your mind was cruel, reminding you of Bucky’s lips where Peter’s had been; of the chill on Bucky’s nose as he sought the warmth of your skin; of Bucky’s hands around you, holding you close like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly together.

The fireworks were reflected in the tears of your eyes, that you thankfully brushed away before anyone noticed. That was the last night you hung out with your friends as a group.

You couldn’t do it anymore, seeing Bucky and Claire hurt. Maybe it was the lies, all the bullshit you ate up like a starved child. And then it hit you.

Bucky wanted a relationship, but not with you.

PART 23

[ghost-in-the-hella]

If you are still taking prompts, and were so inclined, 47 for Gideon the Ninth!

I am always so inclined. Enjoy this... this thing. Gets a bit rude because, well, Gideon.

47. “You look like hell.”

---

“You look like hell.”

Gideon startles at the sound of Coronabeth Tridentarius actually speaking to her. She sounds more intrigued than judgemental, as if hell were an exotic travel destination she’s not yet been to but is eager to learn more about. Gideon is, not for the first time, grateful for her affected vow of silence as all possibility of coherent thought abandons her tongue. She would surely be a stuttering gay mess if she tried to speak to a woman as beautiful as this particular princess of Ida. With her feigned vow, she can still pull off the “strong but silent” affect and at least somewhat salvage the impression of being a suave badass who’s great with the ladies.

Or she could if she weren’t currently a panting, heaving, sweat drenched, bone dust coated, blood smeared, tattered mess.

It figures that Harrow doesn’t even have to be in the same room with Gideon to have completely ruined her game. Gideon draws herself up to her full height and squares her shoulders - fighting the urge to slump into an exhausted heap on the floor - and straightens her crooked aviators. She hopes that her face paint is still a badass skull and not a runny mess of gray; they’re not big on mirrors down in the facility. Her spine stiffens as Coronabeth steps toward her, smiling like they’re sharing a secret, and brushes one perfect hand lightly at each of Gideon’s shoulders, scattering fine chips of bone onto the floor.

“Poor thing,” Coronabeth purrs, locking Gideon in place with intense eye contact even through her shades. “Your necro’s really running you ragged, isn’t she?”

The last thing Gideon wants to talk about while a beautiful woman is touching her - actually touching her! Okay, touching the shoulders of her robes, but still! - is her screeching ferret of a necromancer. Her distaste must show in her expression even through the caked on layers of sweaty paint because Coronabeth chuckles prettily and squeezes her shoulder - Gideon tenses her sick delts reflexively, desperate to please - and gives her a conspiratorial smirk. “That’s alright. I won’t ask you to divulge any forbidden secrets about the Ninth House or the trials.” She runs clever fingers around the hem of Gideon’s hood - a rumpled heap around her neck, having fallen down as she heaved herself up the ladder from the facility in a hurry to get herself to a sonic - and winks suggestively enough that Gideon swallows hard. “She really must be putting you through the ringer. You know, I feel quite sorry for you cavs sometimes. So much is asked of you, and you get so little in return…”

Gideon has passed out. Surely, this must be what has happened. She’ll wake up in her nest of black blankets with a dirty magazine glued to her face by skull paint and drool, completely covered in sticky notes blackened with Harrowhark’s vitriol. Because it sure as hell feels like Coronabeth - Coronabeth Tridentarius, crown Princess of Ida, hottest necromancer this side of the funny books - is flirting with her. With her. Gideon Nav, indentured servant of the Ninth, perpetually demeaned cavalier primary to her lifelong nemesis, hottest cavalier in history to never touch a boob that wasn’t her own. With her stupid, itchy black robes that still smell faintly of Ortus Nigenad’s flop sweat no matter how many times they’re laundered, with her overgrown and uncombed hair all full of cobwebs and bone dust, with her half-melted face paint of a creepy fucking skull not quite concealing her latest acne outbreak. So there’s no fucking way that this isn’t some delightful dream inspired by too many titty mags before bedtime.

Coronabeth’s hand slides down from Gideon’s shoulder, gliding down the length of her arm - trailing over the firm roundness of her deltoid, the jaw-dropping perfection of her biceps, the corded extensor muscles of her forearms - down to seize her calloused hand with her own surprisingly strong one. “I think you deserve something in return. Don’t you?” 

Okay. New thought. Maybe Gideon hasn’t passed out, but she’s probably going to if Coronabeth keeps touching her like this.

Gideon nods very carefully, trying not to let any drool drop from her mouth.

Coronabeth’s smile is as bright as Dominicus. She tugs Gideon’s hand and leads her down an unfamiliar hallway. Gideon follows obediently despite her necromancer’s warnings ringing in her head, shrieking at her to trust no one. Well, Gideon figures, if she’s a lamb being led to the slaughter, at least she’ll die happy. A girl’s holding her hand! Flirting with her! Smiling at her! Touching her muscles! 

Much to Gideon’s surprise, she is not promptly jumped and flesh magicked to death upon entry to the Third’s quarters. In fact, as far as she can tell, she’s alone in them with Coronabeth. Sure, she had to offer up a bit of blood to the gross ward on the door, but she’s already bleeding a little bit from her adventures in the facility anyway so that’s no biggie. 

She’s relieved to note that there are two big, ostentatious beds in addition to the smaller (but no less ostentatious) cavalier bed at the foot of one. If by some miracle she does get laid today, she’d really rather it not be in a bed that Ianthe Tridentarius has also slept or - God forbid - boned in. Coronabeth hustles her past the beds (dang) toward a large and opulent bathroom. “Here, get washed up.”

A fluffy purple towel is thrust into Gideon’s hands, there’s a gentle shove at her shoulders and the click of a door shutting, and suddenly Gideon is alone in the fanciest bathroom she’s ever seen. It’s even more ridiculous than the one in the Ninth’s quarters. She catches her own reflection in the mirror and finds that she looks every inch as confused as she is. “What the fuck?” she mouths to herself.

“I don’t hear washing happening!” comes Coronabeth’s mellifluous voice sing-songing through the door.

Gideon Nav fancies herself a remarkably strong person, the kind of person who could move mountains barehanded if she set her mind to it. Apparently, she has one fatal weakness: a beautiful woman telling her to do, well, literally anything. So Gideon obligingly scours the paint off her face - Harrow’ll be furious, but Harrow’s always furious and her paint’s a mess anyway - and inspects herself once more in the mirror. Sexy. Hot. Gorgeous. Little bit of acne at the hairline and around the left nostril, bit ruddy-cheeked from over-scrubbing, but still a flawless masterpiece of hotness. 

She sniffs her armpits. Pretty sweaty. Are chicks into that? If they’re going to bone (please, please, please) then won’t she get sweaty again anyway?

Wait, are they going to bone? They are, right? They’re alone in Corona’s quarters, her terrifying sister and their insufferable cav have clearly been sent away, and Corona’s super hot and bossing her around and dragging her into her bedroom (well, through her bedroom to her bathroom, but still). If this were one of Gideon’s magazines she'd already be up to her wrist, or at least majorly winning at tonsil hockey. This is literally a textbook scenario for boning.

Okay, then. It’s on. So now what? Should she brush her teeth or something? Her breath’s probably pretty rank after the morning she’s had. Should she, like… shave stuff? 

“You may draw a bath, if you like,” Corona calls through the door again. “Ianthe and Babs will be gone for hours. And something tells me that you have never been pampered.”

And so Gideon ends up taking the first ever bath of her life in the gilded bathtub of the Third. She can’t bring herself to fill the tub more than a couple of inches, even though from her skin mags and her comics she knows a bath is usually filled until the person in it is all but drowning, or at least until the bubbles are tastefully covering the good bits (comics) or just barely not covering them (skin mags). She does throw in several of the weird perfumy things hanging out around the tub at Corona’s urging. By the end of it, she’s pretty sure she’s dirtier than when she stepped in except that now she’s filthy with scented soaps and salts and glittery “bath bombs” (surprisingly not that violent but also surprisingly messy) instead of sweat and blood. She scrapes and scrubs at herself and then gives her body and her clothes a good shake out in the sonic for good measure. She borrows some toothpaste and uses her finger as a toothbrush, then rinses with borrowed mouthwash. 

There’s a fluffy purple and gold robe that smells a bit like Corona’s perfume and seems the right size, so even though it’s a million miles off from her usual aesthetic she consents to shrug it on. It’s impossibly soft and warm and smooth. Stops a bit short on her thighs, but presumably that won’t get any complaints.

When she steps back out into the Third’s quarters, Gideon feels strangely vulnerable without her protective layer of filth. She smells like a stranger, and her fingertips and toes are wrinkled in a weird way that she assumes has to do with the bath bombs or maybe with how hard she was scrubbing. That, or she’s picked up some freaky skin disease from the Third’s bathtub. She hopes she’s not about to die or something.

Corona looks beyond delighted to see her emerge, ruddy and steaming, from the bathing chamber in her ludicrous little bathrobe. It’s a shame that it’s short on the leg coverage and heavy on the arm coverage, since Gideon’s legs are fucking awesome but not nearly as impressive as her guns. She wants to ask what Corona has planned for her now, but her stupid oath to Harrow stays her tongue. If all goes well, Coronabeth might have a better use for her tongue than words, anyway. So instead she stands there trying to look impressive rather than panicky and overstimulated.

“Come here,” Corona beckons with an elegant finger, her eyes glittering like shards of polished amethyst. Gideon’s pretty sure that Corona’s not using any necromantic tricks on her - she knows what that shit feels like by now, and it’s vastly unpleasant - but she follows her gesture as inexorably as if Corona were looping a leash of thanergy around her throat and dragging her closer. 

And then Coronabeth Tridentarius is touching her. Like, pretty much everywhere. “Hmmm, let’s see,” she murmurs thoughtfully as she palpates what feels like every trembling inch of Gideon’s being (apart from the good bits, but maybe this is what foreplay is? she’s heard of it, but her magazines usually skip straight to the main event). Instead of trying to think, Gideon focuses on feeling, which is much more in her wheelhouse.

Corona’s nimble fingers carding through her damp red locks (they could stand a trim), fingernails sending tingles through her scalp as they scratch gently against skin that’s never been touched in kindness before. Fingertips trailing down the strong line of her jaw, gently seizing her square chin and turning her face to every possible angle, her gaze as palpable as her fingers. Strong hands (how does the Princess of Ida have actual calluses on her fingers?) testing her muscles, examining her hands and paying particular attention to her fingernails (they could also stand a trim).

“You look good in my robe,” Corona announces, taking a step back and allowing Gideon to breathe for what feels like the first time since she set foot in her quarters. “Gold suits you.” She locks eyes with Gideon and quirks her lips into a subtle smirk. “Gold suits you very well.”

Gideon swallows hard, trying not to gulp audibly and concentrating on not sweating through her borrowed robe.

“Much better than black. Not that you look bad in black, mind you, but there are other colors that would be much more flattering for your lovely complexion.”

She takes Gideon by the hand and leads her over to an over-decorated table that Gideon observes is overflowing with cosmetics. “For example… Hmmm… Plum?” Corona holds up a tube of something that’s a deep, bruised purple, examining its contrast with Gideon’s skin. “Or perhaps mauve…”

Coronabeth is insatiable. Gideon is left exhausted. When she finally emerges from the Third House’s quarters (very much not laid), hours have passed and she feels as if she has run a marathon. Not from any outward exertion, but from the effort of holding still and keeping silent throughout the whole ordeal.

She is perhaps the most sexually frustrated she has ever been in her life, having never been touched by a woman (and what a woman!) so much before, or really at all before unless she counts herself or the shriveled crones of the Ninth.

She is also… well. Made over. Her hair has been combed and styled, and it reeks of hair gel almost as badly as Naberius Tern’s does on an average day. Her nails have been trimmed, filed, and buffed smooth before being painted a soft lilac and accented with shimmering gold. Her face has been rendered utterly unrecognizable; Harrowhark would likely envy the sheer amount of makeup on it if only it were in the design of a skull rather than whatever peacocky nonsense Coronabeth’s done to it. She is, at least, in her own black robes despite Coronabeth’s best efforts to get her to borrow some of Babs’s gaudy frippery.

She suspects she has, in fact, been fucked by the Third after all.

She slinks down the hall as stealthily as she can manage, thanking her lucky stars that her necro is probably half-dead in a bone or buried up to her pointy little goblin ears in ancient books or possibly both rather than being a normal, decent human being who might give a fuck where her cavalier has vanished off to for hours on end with one of her greatest rivals. She’s hoping that everyone else in Canaan House will be equally preoccupied and that she’ll be able to return to the safety of her chambers with her dignity at least partially intact when she rounds a corner and nearly faceplants directly into the solid mass of Camilla the Sixth.

Gideon draws herself up to her fullest and most imposing posture and tries to mask her humiliation as best she can. Camilla observes her cooly, but Gideon swears her fellow cav is just barely holding back a laugh. 

After a small but excruciating eternity in limbo, Camilla steps aside to let Gideon dart gratefully past. Camilla casts a few words over her shoulder as Gideon passes, and they follow her burning ears all the way down the hall and back to her quarters: “You look like hell, Nav.”

[cibeewastaken]

Hi! Still doing the way I say 'I love you'? If so, #27 please 😊

hi! this is the last of the I love you prompt, Thank you to everyone who sent prompts and liked how they turned out! There are a few more prompt lists I would like to try, I’ll reblog them when I have time to write more! Thank you all.

27. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips

“Good grief!” Malfoy said when he sauntered (sauntered, who the fuck actually bothered to ever saunter?) into the room. “So it’s true.”

“Don’t you have some hospital gowns to be washing, Malfoy?” Ron asked.

“Don’t you have errands to run for some real Aurors?” Malfoy retorted as he came to a stop next to them. “So, what is it this time.”

“I was cursed!” Harry said as indignantly as he could while immobilized. 

“What else is new,” Malfoy said.

Ron looked sympathetic. “You are the only Auror trainee that actually gets cursed. Sucks to be you, mate.”

“Why bother feeling bad? It’s probably like a spa treatment for him at this point,” Malfoy sat down next to Harry on the bed. Malfoy claimed it was only because he refused to sit in St Mungo’s visitor’s chair. Harry had made a joke about Malfoy’s sensitive arse the first time, and had spent the remaining hour blushing like an idiot, while also thinking about Malfoy’s arse and how sensitive it could be. 

“Wanker,” Harry said, but he was grinning. Getting sent to St Mungo’s had become less and less of a nightmare each time, because Malfoy would always find some excuse to slip away from his own Healer apprenticeship and “hang out” (Harry’s words), or “make fun of Saint Potter” (Malfoy’s words). Now three years into each of their training, Harry hadn’t stopped being sent to St Mungo’s and Malfoy still hadn’t stopped coming.  

“What’s the curse?” Malfoy asked, using this chance to poke at Harry’s waist and make him yelp in a very unattractive way. 

“That’s not fair. I can’t move!” Harry said.

“Some girl cursed him to stay like this until someone confesses their true love to him. She thought she would be the one.”

“You should see her face when she realized her confession didn’t work,” Harry said.

“Yeah, because true love means cursing the person you love,” Malfoy said sarcastically. 

Harry laughed his awkward laughter. He wanted to say something like, “I want to hex you all the time but I’m also in love with your rude and sensitive arse.” But he was sure that wouldn’t go down well. 

And it wasn’t like he really wanted to hex Malfoy, it’s just the only option Harry had beside the other . . . more . . . pleasurable one . . . . 

Ron laughed at something Malfoy said and Harry realized he had zoned out thinking about kissing Malfoy (again). 

“What?” Harry asked.

“I was just saying it’s funny that she cursed you to sit like a princess as you wait for someone to confess their undying love to you,” Malfoy smirked. “Truly a masterpiece. You should get your portrait done in the meantime and hang it in Hogwarts.” 

Malfoy was right. Harry was cursed to sit looking like a traditional princess: legs slanted together at an angle, ankles crossed. Hands folded together in his lap. It was the most uncomfortable position Harry ever had to endure.  

“I feel sorry for princesses,” Harry said. “I think I’m going to die from muscle cramps.”

“Keep this up and you’ll take away Malfoy’s Drama Queen title,” Ron said. 

It showed how much Malfoy grew that he only snorted and said, “He couldn’t take that from me even if he becomes a real princess.” Then a grin stretched his face. “Let’s put a crown on him, Weasel.” 

“I already shoved some chocolate frogs down his shirt,” Ron said, (“Oh my god, is that what it was?” Harry said) He kicked his feet up onto the bed and let his head hung back, closing his eyes. “Keep up, Ferret.”

Malfoy waved his wand and conjured a silver crown filled with various green gemstones that Harry had no hopes of naming. Harry grunted when it was placed on his head. 

“This crown is fucking heavy,” Harry said.

“It’s a coronet, you imbecile,” Malfoy said, taking a step back. His face went still, then very red. Harry glared at him. 

“Go on, make your little jokes,” Harry said, doing his best to look stern. “See if I come hang out with you anymore.”

Malfoy squeaked. His face now red to the point where Harry was starting to worry. 

“Ron, is Malfoy about to pass out?” Harry asked. “It’ll probably not look good if a Healer in training passed out.”

Ron opened one eye. “Nah,” he said. “He just short-circuited. He’ll be back in a few seconds.”

“Huh?” Harry said. 

“Shut it, Weasley,” Malfoy hissed. “Isn’t anyone going to break this stupid curse! What are the Healers doing! Just! Letting him sit there looking like that!”

“You’re the one that put the crown on him, mate,” Ron said. 

Malfoy seemed to shook himself out of it. His snotty expression came back, although somewhat wobbly. “Weasley, you can do it.”

“It has to be romantic love,” Ron said. Harry blushed.

“Then say it romantically,” Malfoy said. He looked down to Harry, the beginning of a grin at the corner of his lips. “Just say, ‘Harry Potter, I love you for who you are. Truly, I love—’”

Harry kicked out a leg and landed right on Malfoy’s shin. “Shut it!” 

Malfoy hopped back. His mouth agape. Face very, very white. Harry looked from his face to his shin apprehensively. 

“I didn’t kick you that hard, did I?” Harry asked.

“No,” Malfoy said. His face edged with disbelief. “No, I don’t—I do not lov—I just—” 

Worried, Harry turned to Ron for support, only to find him also in shock. 

“I mean, I knew,” Ron stuttered. “I knew you had a crush, but I never thought—” 

Harry turned back in time to see Malfoy stumbled out of the room with his eyes on the ground. The door slammed shut behind him. Harry stared. 

“What the fuck?” Harry said. A little hurt that Malfoy just left like that.

“Harry,” Ron said, sounding very pained. “Please tell me you got what just happened.”

“No!” Harry jumped up, upset. “I was just joking with him! We play-hit each other all the time!”

Ron groaned. “Harry. The curse is broken.”

Harry went still. He looked down to find himself standing in a decidedly non-princess manner. 

“Oh,” Harry said. He looked at Ron, then to the coronet (now on the floor), finally to the door. “Oh, my god.”

“Why are you still here!” Ron yelled at him. “Malfoy is probably halfway to Spain by now!”

Harry jumped to action. His legs—unsurprisingly—ached from the abuse that was the princess sit and he stumbled the best he could after Malfoy.

“Malfoy!” Harry shouted, not caring that this was a hospital. People turned to glare at him and that just made him run (away) faster. “Malfoy, you bastard!”

Harry spotted him quick enough, stuck in a crowd of visitors. Malfoy glanced back, panic clear in his expression, and Harry whipped out his wand. 

“Accio!” Harry shouted. 

Malfoy squawked as his body lurched back, crashing into Harry. Harry spun them to lessen the momentum and they both stumbled to a stop. Malfoy glared up. Harry tightened his arms, heart pounding. 

“Did you just summoned me?” Malfoy said. “The insolence! My goodness!”

Harry could tell that Malfoy was gearing up for a full-blown strop, so Harry blurted out the only thing that was on his mind.

Malfoy reared back, staring at Harry with wide eyes. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “You didn’t hear it wrong. I love you.”

“If this is your idea of getting back for the crown—” Malfoy started. 

“It’s a coronet,” Harry said, and kissed him. 

Malfoy jerked in Harry’s arms, then melted into it with a moan that dissolved all of Harry’s past and future resolve. Simply obliterated it. There was nothing in this world that could keep Harry from Malfoy’s mouth anymore—just nothing—Malfoy cradled Harry’s jaw, no doubt feeling the way it moved as Harry worked his tongue into Malfoy’s mouth—they will just have to die like this— 

They were thrown out of St. Mungo’s for indecent behavior not long after, and years afterward from that day, Ron would retell that story with absolute merriment at the Potter-Malfoy wedding, much to the guests’ delight and the grooms’ mortification. Not that it stopped them from making out in the storage room and getting caught by Mr. Weasley a few hours later. All was well.

[introductions-are-a-spook]

Tag list: @kyuudomo @kissthe-gogoat @caloroso-cosmos @omrade-echorin < You said you like the last one so added you. Let me know if you’re okay with that, and sorry if not!

Let me know if you want to be added or taken off. Reblogs and feedback always appreciated!

Fifty miles from the Chapman house and twenty years ago, rain fell over an English boarding school. Children ran from building to building, clutching their bags under hunched chests in an attempt to protect them.

Visible through a window, one student sat huddled on a library bench, nose deep in a book. And of course they didn’t see through their concentration to the rambunctious upperclassman arguing with the librarian.

“I told you before, my father tore the book, not me. I can get the money to pay for it, it’ll just take a couple days!”

“That’s ridiculous. Just why in the world would a parent do that, hmm?”

“You obviously don’t know him like I do,” he snipped under his breath.

After a moment more of this, he sauntered over to where the bookworm- maybe a grade or two below him, sat. Flopping down, he groaned.

Finally the quiet one spoke. “Mrs. Kingsley’s going to wring your neck if you don’t replace the book soon, you know.”

“Yeah, I get it already. Geez.” The older boy looked at the younger with a raised eyebrow. “Hey I know you, you’re in my chemistry class. Mary, right?”

“Er, it’s Maxwell. And yes, what about it?”

“Isn’t that a bit too hard for you? You’re what, twelve?”

“Fourteen. You?”

“Aww, a little shrimp. I’m seventeen. Andrew, by the way,” although teasing, his tone lacked any genuine malice. He held out a hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you, prick.”

Andrew laughed. “Damn right. Whatcha reading?”

Maxwell tilted the book. A collection of Sherlock Holmes stories. “I want to be a detective when I get out of school, so I’m studying now.”

“That’s cool. We better get to class though, the bell’s gonna ring soon,” Andrew said, standing up and checking his watch.

Maxwell reluctantly closed his book and nodded. “Just try to pay for the book soon, okay? Mrs. Kingsley isn’t the only one who cares about this library.”

“Oh sure. I’ll just steal the money from my dad while he’s at church or something,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Nice meeting you, Maxwell!”

“Same here. Criminal!”

Andrew laughed and walked off. Maxwell allowed a chuckle as he went the opposite way.

~*~

Six pictures were laid out in front of Andrew. All of various bedrooms. Half he recognized- Maxwell’s, Isabella’s, and his own. The other three varied. There was a rather plain, maroon themed bedroom with several camera monitors in one corner. Another was coated wall-to-wall in weapons and a bright scarlet palette. The last of which was more pink and the most homely, with picture frames full of people everywhere. All belonging to Maxwell’s siblings, most likely.

And yet, Andrew was not confused. In fact, he was quite disturbed. He sat with his ferret, Brie, in his arms, petting her in an attempt to calm down.

He had finally worked up the courage to read the letter. Mr. Antigone had left a graphic plan of all the horrible things he would do if Andrew didn’t leave Maxwell as soon as possible. He detailed all the ways he could get away with it, and included the pictures as proof of his deadly seriousnessand capability.

Well if he hasn’t killed me yet, it probably means he wants me alive. He must be trying to beat me into submission.

What a mess. Within just a few weeks of going out with Max, Andrew’s world had turned upside down. Of all the people in the world, he had to fall in love with a detective.

A knock at the downstairs door stirred him. Quietly putting Brie in her pen, he cursed himself for not burning the letter as told. Walking down to the front on tiptoe, he slipped a kitchen knife into his pocket- just in case.

Another knock. Andrew took a deep breath, prepared for the worst, and opened the door.

“Maxwell! Oh, it’s just you, thank god,” he sighed in relief.

Maxwell raised an eyebrow. “Of course it’s me, who else would it be?” He cut Andrew off before he could respond. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. We need to talk.”

A twinge of fear settled in Andrew’s gut. “About what? Is everything okay?”

“Given that you feel the need to answer the door with a knife in your coat,” he gestured to how poorly it was hidden, “No, things are far from okay.”

Andrew studied Maxwell’s face. His handsome features were pulled into a grave expression, his demeanor uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you come in,” Andrew said, holding the door ajar for the other man.

“Thank you,” Maxwell responded, sitting down at an empty booth in the main shop. Andrew sat down across from him, and they sat in silence for a long few moments.

Maxwell slowly tapped his thumbs together. Andrew could see how his eyes faded in deep thought.

“Andrew.”

“Yes?”

“Are you…” he took a shaky breath. “No. I know you’re the thief.”

Andrew’s stomach flipped, but he calmed himself. “You’re good. Guilty as charged. Is this my day of reckoning, then?” His tone was bitter, almost scared.

For the first time since arriving, Maxwell looked Andrew directly in the eye. “I have an idea.”

“You didn’t answer my question, but go on,” he said with a dry chuckle.

“Tell me, who is Nikos Antigone?”

Andrew stood up suddenly. “What do you mean, has he contacted you? Have you met him?”

“So you do know him. He sent me a letter- or, as it turns out, two letters. The first ‘anonymously’ telling me to run away from you, the second saying that you robbed him. Tell me, have you ever used violence in your hijinks?”

“I don’t know how much you’ll believe me, but no, I haven’t.”

“I figured as much. So it was Antigone that broke your nose a couple weeks back?”

Andrew hesitated. Was this an interview? But Maxwell seemed so genuinely worried. “Yeah, basically.”

“I’m very sorry,” he said, brushing a finger over the bridge that was still sore. Andy winced slightly, causing Max to draw his hand away.

“I’m not going to turn you in. I want to help, but to do that, I need answers. Could you tell me more?” He was now surprisingly soft.

So with a heavy sigh, Andrew spilled his guts about everything, even ousting Isabella’s involvement in the process. He also provided some insight on Jennifer. She was the daughter of a nobleman, one that rudely broke off dealings with the Antigone family’s crime loop, when she was just a baby.

Despite this, all four of them had attended the same school without realizing. She and the young Nikos were the best of friends, before they all went their separate ways, and Nikos followed in his family’s footsteps. Andrew was doing jobs for him simply to make him money and to be a jewel in his crown.

“You won’t have to be for long. If we can find a way to get him in the wrong place at the wrong time, we can pin all of your wrongdoings on him.”

“Maxwell, no. You could lose your job if you did that!”

“I’m more than willing-“

“And besides, I’m the one at the wheel, I should take the blame-“

“You think I haven’t shuffled blame before? You know neither of us have ever cared about morals and virtue.”

“That may be true, but this is still a huge risk. One I’m not willing to let you take for me!”

“Well too bad, because I refuse to allow you to keep on like this. If you don’t let me help, I’ll find a way to do something on my own.”

“Max, what the hell has gotten into you? Why can’t you let me sort out my own problems- or just throw me in jail already?”

“Because I love you, you nitwit!”

There was a long, charged silence. The tension of argument melted away, leaving something else entirely in its place.

“I… I think I love you too. And I don’t want you to get hurt. You have no idea the things this guy will do to you.”

Max held Andy’s hand, up on the table. “You’re right, I don’t. But I know with our combined minds, we can outsmart him.”

Andrew took a deep, shuddering breath. “Do you really think so?”

Maxwell nodded. “The Antigone family has done enough damage. It’s about time someone put a stop to it. I only have one condition.”

“That being?”

“For both of our sakes, you need to drop your game. Once Nikos is in prison, well…”

Andrew nodded and pondered for a moment. “I’d need something else after the fact- to keep me entertained. But yes, for you, I will.”

“Then our plot can be your last heist. Any ideas as to a replacement?”

“You could marry me, and we could run away together. Be musicians in Vienna till’ we’re old,” Andy smirked.

Max giggled. “Ask me again in three years.”

And then he gave Andy the most lovestruck look. Andy returned it. They glanced at their pose- they were awfully close.

“I’d ask if I could kiss you, but there’s a table in the way,” Andy whispered with a quiet laugh.

“Just get over here, you,” Max then pulled a laughing Andy by his tie to the nearest wall, moving close, only to be stopped.

“Hang the hell on, you’re the short one, shouldn’t you be the one-“

Max swatted Andy’s arm. “Oh, shut up.” And with that, they finally closed the gap.

Andy smelled like fresh cakes, and Max like old books. Where the thief tasted like strawberries, the detective was like tea with milk; both felt like smooth butter.

Andy’s arms were strong as he lifted Max and held him so close. They stood like that for a long time, pausing only to dash upstairs. Andrew had only one thought before his mind went blank with bliss.

Antigone thinks he can use me as a puppet. Poor man has no idea what he’s messing with.