#of course like all shame work it's going to be two steps forward one step back however. i think it'll solve a lot of my interpersonal issue

[glittercorvid]

uh oh besties, i've worked through enough of my shame that the inner diva siren's call is getting louder and louder... girlies i think we're about to enter our flamboyant era

[peachesofteal]

MELOS (PART THREE)

main masterlist / Azriel's masterlist

Part two here / Melos masterlist Azriel/female reader - 6.6k words - AO3 Tags - 18+ mdni, explicit content, hurt/comfort, caretaking, possessive behavior, usual warning for Azriel's self loathing. Brief suicidal ideation. Azriel willing to rip anyone to shreds for threatening his mate, complicated IC dynamics, Amren sucks. Oral sex - fem receiving, little bit of edging, Dom/sub undertones, praise kink. canon compliant.

Fear.

It slams into him, shakes the bond so violently he almost drops out of the sky, forces him off course over the jagged peak of Illyria, urging him to follow the intensity of your panic towards Velaris. Gone is his assignment, his contact awaiting his visit, his work. One objective rises above it all.

You. 

The Palace of Bone and Salt is in shambles, but he hardly notices. Somewhere it registers in the back of his mind there’s been a quake, there are injuries, damage, but none of it matters.

The only thing that matters is his mate in front of him, trembling, eyes wide and glazed over, blood trickling down your face and blooming across your ribs. There’s a roaring sound between his ears, dread and rage and agony all compounding into a mounting explosion, and for a moment, he worries he might level the city for its crime of harming you.

Feyre is tense, and Cassian watches him warily. “What happened?”

“We found her under there,” he points to a dilapidated merchant’s stall, his stomach roiling at the sight of it, heavy stone counter cracked in half, wood and glass scattered across the ground, “protecting a little girl. We think she’s in shock.”

Not shock. Trapped in memories.

There’s a haunted look in your eye, a flicker of nightmares.

His brave girl. 

He holds himself at bay, holds himself back from shooting into the sky with you cradled to his chest, carrying you as fast as the wind will allow to Madja, or pulling you into a cloud of shadow so he can arrive uninvited in her living room.

“She needs a healer.” His jaw has never been clenched so tight. The smell of your blood is making him sick.

“We know,” Feyre tries to reassure him, but at the same time angles her body to block his path. Cassian shakes his head, because he knows, just as Feyre should, standing between a male and his mate is a very bad idea. He loves Feyre, but his affection for her is nothing compared to what he feels for you, and her behavior in this moment, is reckless. “Az,” she tries to caution him, tone pitching low, serious, “maybe you should back-“

Remove her, the shadows snap, she is in our way.

“You need a healer.” He pretends she doesn’t exist, pushes his anger as far away as he can manage, and addresses you instead. You shake your head.

“I need to go. Home. I need to go… home.” Cassian snorts. Azriel wonders if it’s possible to break his jaw in one punch.

You’re slipping, unsteady on your feet, going somewhere in your mind he cannot follow and his panic ratches upward as he says your name and you don’t respond.

“Feyre,” Cassian murmurs, “step back.” She stiffens, but listens, and he surges forward, unable to keep away any longer.

His heart sings as he cups your cheek. It’s the first time he’s touched you since his hands brought you harm, and he chokes on a breath as you lean into his touch, satin against scars. “Look at me,” he soothes, trying to draw you back to the present, but it’s a losing battle. You’re going to pass out, and you’re scared, he can read it all so clearly, scared to slip away in the dark, scared to succumb to the nightmare in your mind. “It’s okay.” I’m here, he wants to scream, you’re not alone. You fist his shirt and blink like you’re trying to clear the fog from your head, but it’s not enough.

In one moment, you’re here, you’re with him.

And in the next, you’re collapsing in his arms.

Time is so fickle.

There’s not enough of it now. For so long, his existence was a plague, an endless agony rife with shame, a life undeserving. He dreamt, multiple times, of falling out of the sky and into the Sidra, sinking to the bottom and letting the cold water fill his lungs. He never wanted more, not truly. He had no need for time.

Now, it’s all he wants. More time for more chances to tell you how sorry he is and kneel at your feet, beg you for forgiveness. More time to know you. To love you. Time to learn your likes and dislikes, what makes your nose wrinkle, what adds a skip to your step. Time to take you flying, to trek through the forest with you on an endless scavenger hunt, watch as you bite your lip and furrow your brow at Moonflower’s worktable.

If the Mother would give him another chance. 

If you would.

Time is fickle, because for months, he’s begged it to slow down, and now, he’s pleading with it to speed up, bring him to the moment where you wake.

Madja assured him you would make a full recovery within a day or two. She left a healing salve for the gash in your side, and some sleeping draught in case you were too uncomfortable to rest. You were exhausted, she told him, far weaker than she was comfortable with, body and magic wrung dry.

“Try to get her to eat something,” she said, “and then make sure she sleeps. She needs it. A lot of it.” 

The guilt is insurmountable. It chews away at his insides, burrows itself deep beneath his skin like a disease, rotting his flesh and mind. All he sees is your face, terrified, tormented, first in his dungeon and again, in the Palace. He sees you shuddering amongst the ruin, eyes rolling back in your head, collapsing in his arms. He can still hear your gasps, your pleas from that night, the steady thump of your heart slowing as he took your air, again and again. It’s these memories, these moments igniting in his chest, pain so visceral it aches, the agony of his mate’s suffering tearing him apart from the inside out. No matter the end of his story, of yours, there will always be this cordolium within him, this stark regret plaguing his every step. You’re so beautiful it possesses the power to break him, a strange, beautiful creature, breathtaking from the tip of your nose to the depths of your mind, and he’s a monster, lurking in your nightmares.

A beauty, and a beast.

You whimper and twitch in the blankets, hands fisted, limbs stiff. “Shhh,” he strokes the apple of your cheek. He's been able to settle you somehow, lull you back to peace thanks to the music spinning between your soul and his, threads knitting around the frail, fledging bond, pushing you to take comfort in him as you rest. It's more than he could ever ask for. “You’re okay, sweet girl. You’re safe.” Your sleep has been fitful, at best, and he wonders if he’s the one haunting you, or something else.

He's still in the chair beside the bed when you begin to blink groggily, trying to get a grip on your surroundings. You’re clouded with confusion, echoes of apprehension strumming down the bond, and he meets it, tempering it with reassurance in hope it reaches the other side. “Hey,” he murmurs, holding perfectly still like you’re a small animal and he’s the predator determined not to spook you as you push up onto your elbows with a groan. “Careful. The wound in your side is pretty raw.”

“Where am I?” you croak, and he reaches for the glass of water waiting on the table.

“My house. I didn’t think you’d take kindly to me breaking into yours.” Mostly true. He can’t deny there’s a warm hum of satisfaction purring in his chest at having you here, in his bed, safe within his walls, and he was too unsettled by the thought of bringing you to the River House, or the House of Wind, even though Feyre tried to insist.

Over the course of his life, Azriel’s loyalty, his dedication to his family, his court, has been instinctual, engrained in him down to the core, and his drive to protect his loved ones, Velaris, has been one of his defining features for centuries.

But this instinct has now shifted to you, and you are still an unknown to his High Lord.

“You brought me to your house…” You glance around, unsure. He knows how it seems. A venomous trap laid by him to ensnare you, to hold you here, by his side, forever. A way to feed poison into your veins, stun you, paralyze you, so he can steal you away, shield you from the world.

“You needed a healer, and rest. This was the logical option." You hold his gaze. It’s one of those instances, one of many, where there’s nothing else but you and him, nothing else that matters, nothing that even comes close. He wishes they could last forever. “I had to make sure you’re okay.” He braces for your wrath, the tart, sweet contrast of a raspberry, pinching the pockets of his cheeks and rolling across his tongue. He had a taste of it in the Middle, with the swamp, and now he craves it. Your fight, your cunning. Clever witchling. 

Your expression sours at the salve. “How bad is it?”

“A piece of marble crushed your ribs, and the jagged edge ripped your skin open. Madja says you’ll be healed in a day, but your body is exhausted and slowing the process. She left a sleep tonic, if you need it.” He murmurs, walking the line of too much and too little delicately, desperate to avoid crushing this fragile truce.

You shift, wincing, small yelp slipping free from between your teeth, and he stills you, brushing his hand along your arm before he can stop himself. “Easy.” The touch is electric, a live wire arcing through the room, crackling in the air, and he draws away out of fear, worry he’ll startle you. “We should get you home,” he says softly, and you nod. He won’t try to force it, push this farther. You won’t be comfortable here, and he’s cradling this burgeoning peace, fanning its flame, encouraging it to grow, trying to keep from ruining it. Working at something he's not sure he can achieve. 

“Yeah I… I think that’s a good idea.” You sit up slowly, leaning to one side to alleviate the pressure on your ribs. “How far is it? To my house?” He frowns.

“Far. We’re on the other side of the city. Do you think you can winnow?”

“I don’t know.” You try to wriggle closer to the side of the bed, but it’s fleeting, and your shoulders slump with defeat.

“I can take you, if you’d like.” You glance at his wings.  

“With those?”

“No, I wouldn’t fly with you in this cold.”

“With the shadows then.” You look down at your lap, and the weight of his choices crash like a wave upon his shoulders. The last time he took you through shadow, it was to the chamber, and then back. He swallows.

“It’s the quickest way.” You fix your gaze across the room, sweeping over his dresser, the nook lined with bookshelves and overstuffed velvet chairs, the chest of weapons on the opposite side. Charcoal grey drapes frame the floor to ceiling windows, aquamarine and citrine refracting through the stained-glass onto the deep, nearly black, green walls and polished wide plank wood floors.

“This is your room.” Your fingertips glide across the sheets, black satin, and his cheeks grow hot. 

“Yes.”

“It fits you.” Your lips tilt into the thinnest crescent moon, something akin to a tiny smile, and optimism soars in his heart.

You hold out your hand, the tattoo a mirror to his, the ink and magic of salvation, his contrition, the thing he now bows to, idolatrously.

Without it, he’d be lost.

You take a long, deep breath and uncurl your fingers, opening your palm. The small sliver of trust knocking his entire existence askew.

The meaning of this-

This trust you deign to place in him now, when you’re vulnerable, when your magic is feeble and your physical strength is sapped, is an infinitesimal gift, divinity defying all.

Unworthy. Another thing you’re giving him that he’s unworthy of.

The threads sing, weaving notes together, highs and lows, one side of a fugue, one side still waiting.

Your throat bobs with a swallow, and you graze your fingertips against his. “You’ll take me home then?”

He’s not sure he can leave you here.

She’s in pain, the shadows bemoan as they carefully flutter at your ankles. You’re too fatigued to notice, too busy contemplating the stairs with trepidation. Climbing them is a daunting task, one he fears you may fail. You’re hurting, completely exhausted, and he’s powerless. He can’t fix it or take it away, like everything else that’s happened. Your eyes are nearly dead, drained, and the shadows flitter around you anxiously. She cannot hold herself up. 

I know.                                                                   

“Can I help you up the stairs?” You shake your head vehemently, and like you’re trying to prove something, attempt to take the first step on shaky legs, gripping tight to the banister like it will keep you steady.

Your knees give out immediately, and his self-restraint vanishes. He lifts you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, petrichor and oakmoss flooding his senses, and you don't even flinch. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, “let me help.”

“I’m tired,” you whisper, voice smaller than he’s ever heard, and he tightens his hold.

“I know. Let’s get you into bed, alright?” Weak limbed and limp, you slump against him, giving yourself over. More trust, more of these things he does not deserve. 

“Madja said your bandage won’t need to be changed before you’re healed, so you won’t have to worry about that tomorrow.” He carefully guides you back against your pillows, trying to ignore how caring for you, holding you, being here with you ignites a swath of feelings in him, possessiveness, protective instincts, obsession. Devotion. The rage, the hatred, the darkness haunting him slips into silence, drowned out by the music, the melody overtaking all.

“Okay,” you mumble, trailing off into a yawn as you squint at him. He wants to stay right here, sitting on the edge of your bed, his hip against your thigh, the neutral, barely there contact chasing off the stygian sullenness waiting to welcome him back to its embrace.

Don’t push it. 

He stands. You follow the movement, head tipping back, exposing your throat. Such a vulnerable place, one he greatly wants to drag his lips across. “I’ll let you sleep.” He says instead, stifling the pleasure surging in his blood at the way your eyes track him. He swears he seems a flicker of sadness there, but it’s gone before he can truly process it, hold on it, commit it to memory. When you don’t say anything else, he nods, drawing a sable shroud around his shoulders, readying to step into-

“Azriel,” he freezes, catching your gaze, “thank you.”

“Of course.” He’d do anything for you, little witch. Anything you asked. 

“I’ll see you next week?” There’s a tinge of trepidation on your tongue but it’s not fear. It’s uncertainty. His lips lift into a smile, a genuine one, one that only exists around you.

“Next week.”

He’s summoned almost immediately, and arrives in Rhys’ office to find an audience of his brother and Feyre, Amren, Cassian. The only one missing is Mor.

He quiets himself. Hides everything inside, pulls the shadows close, reinforces the walls around his mind. “What is it?”

“What is it?” Rhys hisses, anger flashing through the room’s thickened fog of magic. “What is it?” Azriel slips into the mask, the one he perfected long ago, and crosses his arms. A mirror image of the father he hated.

“Your mate is a witch.” He looks to Cassian, who shakes his head. He didn’t do it, didn’t betray the secret, this turbulent reality.

It was bad enough they discovered he had a mate in the first place, but disappearing for two weeks, without communication, has its consequences, and he has a hard time denying Feyre anything. When she asked where he had been, what had caused him to leave so suddenly without word, everything came out.

Almost everything. 

“She’s not a witch, her mother was.”

“So she’s only half a witch,” Amren says drily, rolling her eyes. The shadows rumble, rankle with rage. 

“I could smell it, Az, but she’s done nothing wrong. We don’t want to interrogate her.” Feyre looks at him with sympathy, and he only regards her with that same cool stare. Rhys who appears to be of a different mind, snarls at him.

“You will bring her to me, immediately, and I will determine what kind of-“

“No. She is none of your concern.” He will not play this game. He will not give Rhys a single second with you, if this is his intention.

“She is a witch, living in my Court!”

“And do you not trust my ability to evaluate a threat?” It takes everything, everything he has, to keep his tone measured. Cassian’s eyes dart between the two of them and then clears his throat.

“He tortured her, Rhys.”

“I don’t care,” he snaps, “he is blinded by a mating bond.” He turns his attention back to Azriel, raw power crackling through the air between them. “You will bring her to me, or I will retrieve her myself, and you will not like what happens if I do.”

The room explodes in shadow. Midnight closes in from all sides, climbing the walls, crawling across the floor.

The bond thirsts for battle and blood, for his brother’s head, and Azriel’s vision tunnels, soaked in crimson, in wrath, malevolence worthy of a smote god.

Amren stands. Cassian takes a step forward.

“You would threaten my mate? Is this what we’ve come to?” He’s descended past reason now, encased in an icy coffin of fury, and his siphons gleam, the killing power inside him salivating at the potential for violence. For destruction.

His people are monsters, and so shall he be. 

To protect you, to protect his mate, he’d become anything, a brute, a nightmare, it makes no difference.

“Az, let’s-“

“Cassian.” He seethes, refusing to take his eyes from Rhys, “while you may be more amenable to how your mate is treated by our brother, I am not.” Guilt flashes in Rhys’ gaze, and a breath catches in Feyre’s throat with a small, strangled sound.

“This is ridiculous. Just bring the girl and be done with it.” Amren snorts, casually inspecting her fingernails to appear as if she’s unaffected, but Azriel knows better. The shadows know her heart, her truths, how she mourns the loss of what she once was, how she loathes the fact that she’s High Fae. How she’s all too aware of her weakened state, hiding behind her posturing and assumed infinite wisdom that's slowly becoming irrelevant. Like her.

“Amren. Shut up.” Cassian bites out, his siphons casting a rubied glow around the room, mixing with Azriel’s cobalt blue, painting them together into deep purple hues.

“You will never touch my mate, Rhys. Never.” His brother’s face sparks with surprise and then his lip curls.

“Or what?”

“Rhys!” Feyre whips towards him, horror and disappointment settled into the furrow of her brow. “This is enough.” She looks at Azriel. “We trust your judgement Az, of course we do, and Rhys forgets I met her in the Palace saving a child’s life.” She hisses, her own power pulsing between the brothers, creating a physical barrier.

It’s not wrapped tight to Azriel, but to Rhys.

It seems his brother has been outranked.

We can break it, the shadows croon.

No. 

This is his family, dysfunctional as it may be, as tumultuous it may be, they are still his.

Rhys is still his brother. His High Lord.

“Let’s take a breath, cool off.” Feyre coaxes, nudging at the fortress of Azriel’s mind. Go. I will speak to him.

Don’t bother. 

He will listen to reason, just… give it some time. 

He spares Rhys one more glance as his wings flex and shakes his head. “I am disappointed in you, brother. I had hoped by now you would have learned from your mistakes.”

He expects another challenge of some sort. “No swamp today?”

“No swamp.” You lead him to your workspace in the back of Moonflower, a light, airy space with shelves and shelves full of herbs, flowers, plants growing from glass jars, and hunk of rocks, precious metals, strips of steel haphazardly tucked beside them, all chaotic, all disorganized. Like your home, it’s fitting. “I figured you could hang out with me while I work.” It’s a trial in its own way, daring him to protest, to vanish, to be bored by you, disinterested.

He won’t. He’d never.

“What are you making?” The table is full of stuff. Books, a mortar and pestle, a brass scale. There’s a long, sharp knife next to a thick stalk of something purple that smells like lemon, flanked by two glass beakers, and a heaping pile of salt. A raised metal circle holds a sphere over open flame, its contents a cyan rich liquid just on the cusp of a boil.

“Today I’m trying to finish a batch of contraceptive tea, and a cleanser.”

“A cleanser?”

“It’s an elixir that pulls poison from the body. All the healers in Velaris keep it stocked. Works well for a hangover too.” You bless him with another smile, the second one today, and he tucks it away for when sleep struggles to come and he needs something to cling to.

You pin him with assessing eyes. Anything could roll from your tongue, a question, a request to fulfill the bargain, a demand to never see him again, and the precipice is agony. He wonders if this is how it would be to fall without wings, drop out of the sky and plummet towards the mountains, jump from a cliff and crash into the sea. Would his heart pound the same, lungs scream the same? Would he experience peace, the same he feels in your presence, would his past flash before his eyes, would his family, or you? Conflict shivers from behind your walls towards him, twisting through the bond. “You owe me an explanation, and while I… I do need to hear it, desperately... there are other things that weigh on me. The fact that you know well enough about me but I know very little about you." You draw a pattern through the heap of salt, suddenly distant. It passes, and you blow out a long breath. "Azriel… who are you?” He frowns.

“I am… the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster, I’m-“

“No. What are you, if not those things, the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster. Who are you?”

“I…” the answer doesn’t come and there’s suddenly a nest of cotton muffling sound and thought, spinning tangled webs throughout his brain. Who is he? 

“I'm clever,” you lift your nose and smirk, tracing the rim of the glass beaker to make low whistle tones, “and a friend. I make a very good honeysuckle whiskey cocktail, and I love to read. I’m a hunter too, of fungi and moss, the occasional crystal. I'm an alchemist, I balance nature and magic. I’m a daughter.” Your voice hitches on the last word, vowels pulled apart at the edges, longing lingering on your lips. It pains you. Another puzzle in the long list of surprises, another riddle you’ve posed without an answer, a truth he struggles to find. “Try,” you whisper, ever watchful.

“I’m a bastard.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, the stain upon his life since the day he was born. “And an Illyrian,” a brute, a monster, “I’m exceptionally skilled at causing pain and killing. I am warrior, a fighter. I have turned suffering into art. I am…” he doesn’t look at you. You’re the only thing capable of making him feel real fear, fear of your pain or suffering or anguish, the fear of your rejection, the fear of your disgust, and he can’t bring himself to see it on your face. “I am alone.” He braces for the pity, the same sharp sympathy given to him by his family.

“Well. Those are awful.” His gaze snaps to yours. You’re aggravated, and curious.

Always curious, our girl. 

She is, isn’t she? 

“You’re a brother, aren’t you? And an uncle?” He nods. “So, not alone. And you’re a bastard, probably mocked for it, hurt for it, but here you are, so I imagine you’re perseverant, strong. Strong in the physical sense too.” You peek at his shoulders, his arms, traveling down his chest before redirecting your attention to his face, somewhat abashed. “U-um, you’re-“

“Clever. Like you.”  

“Clever, like me. Brave too, I think, and probably devoted, loyal, considering your line of work.”

“Yes,” he whispers, symphony rising, notes colliding with perfect pitch, ringing in ears, a celestial rhythm waiting for the crescendo to match.

“Loved.” It’s a blazing star shooting across the sky, a buttery sweet sentiment melting in his mouth, loved.

“You didn’t list it for yourself.”

“Because it didn’t belong.” Loved? You don’t consider yourself loved?

“Why?”

“Because there is no one left. I am a good friend, a great one, but my secret prevents others from being a good friend to me. You cannot be loved if you are not known, not truly.” It crashes into him, the severity of your words. You cannot be loved if you are not known, not truly. 

Is he known? Truly known? Is he loved? 

Molten silver bubbles over from the sphere to a beaker, polychrome and pearl trickling down the sides, sizzling into a powder at the bottom. “Ah!” You jerk away from the table, bringing your hand to your chest, and he goes cold, shadows vibrating.

“What?” He’s around the corner and in front of you immediately,  

“It’s nothing, the silver just dripped on me.” You burned yourself. His chest tightens. 

“Let me see.” He cradles your hand in his, shadows quivering around your fingertip as he pulls you over to the tap. He turns the handle to the right temperature, cool but not cold, before putting your blistered skin under the spigot. If he’s fast enough, he can stop it from scarring, stop it from marring your lovely skin, prevent it from being with you for the rest of your life. “How does that feel?”

“Good.” You’re not looking at the water splashing down into the copper sink, or the burn. Instead, you're studying him, contemplating, considering.

“Do you have any cream here? Or maybe one of the salves you make...” He trails off, trying to think about what he’s seen in the shop out front, but everything he means to ask dies in his throat when you wrap your other hand around his.

“I’m okay, Azriel.” Right. Of course you are. It’s a small burn, not even the width of your fingertip. Suddenly, he feels very, very foolish, exposed, and he ties a cloak of obsidian around his shoulders, pulling the tendrils down around his forearms.

“Sorry, I-“

“I know.” You caress the shadows curling around his elbow, dancing through them with grace, inspecting, studying. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whisper, and his throat tightens.

“There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing.” You shake your head.

“There is… there has to be because I should you hate you, shouldn’t I?”

“You should.” You should do more than hate him, you should fear him, detest him, run from him.

“But I don’t. I don’t hate you, I’m not scared, and I don’t think it’s the safety net of the bargain. I don’t… I don’t understand it. I’m not frightened of you, but I am… I’m frightened of this.” Your palm flattens over your heart. He should tell you; he should confess-

but then he could lose you. 

“I should tell you to leave, but all I want to tell you is you’re not alone.” He tries to dig his heels into the ground against the magnetism dragging him downward, farther and farther until he’s holding your face, nearly nose to nose, counting your breaths, each speck in your irises. Decision and indecision hums down the bond, an endless tug of war you fight, a battle he wants so badly to win for you. You push up onto your tiptoes- 

and then crash your lips to his. 

It’s hungry, lush, teeming with life like your beloved forest. You unknowingly push it all through the bond, desire, confusion, worry, each feeling a chord, a note, trying to complete the song. He’s losing himself in it, veering off the path and diving headfirst into the unknown, too incensed to think for a moment before he wrests his discipline back into place.

Stop.

Control.

He rests his forehead against yours as he draws a measured breath.

His. He’ll show you what it means. To be his.

“You are perfect,” he presses a ghostly kiss to the corner of your mouth, “brilliant, kind, brave. You are far more than I deserve, a blessing I never knew could exist. A goddess I would worship my entire life.” An endless pool of hesitance and longing eddies in your eyes, a paradox he knows too well, and he prepares to step away, disappear, run. 

But you reach for him with a whisper.

“Worship me then.”

Fervor. Frenzy. It all explodes, detonates through him to you, whipping down the bond again and again, madness ebbing at the edge of his mind.

His. His, his, his. 

The two of you collide, and he’s rough, unintentionally, but it’s met blow for blow in a distorted dance, hands, fingers, mouths everywhere, his tongue against yours. It’s not enough, your touch under his shirt, traveling up to his shoulders, a leisurely stroll becoming a hectic sprint, encouraging him, knitting your fingers in his hair, nipping at his jaw. He plucks the ribbon tying the neckline of your dress together, your breasts spilling out into his hands.

“Azriel,” you’re whimpering, rolling your hips against the thigh he’s nudged between your legs, shivering as drags his thumbs across your nipples and follows with his teeth, sharp for the sweet, “don’t tease.”

Wild one. 

The shadows sweep everything off the worktable, and he lays you back, hiking the skirt up over your belly, dragging soft kisses on your skin beneath your navel as he spreads your knees wide, wide enough to accommodate his shoulders, exposing a pair of black panties, weeping pussy waiting for him underneath.

He has no patience and twists his fingers in the hem, tearing the fabric away from your body. “Cauldron,” he murmurs, running his knuckles up and down your seam, enjoying how you shiver each time he teases a little pressure against your clit. “Look at you-  beautiful everywhere.” Dawn in a drizzle, your scent makes his mouth water, and his cock aches, painfully heavy. This is not about him, it’s about you, as all things are now.

He'll have plenty of time, he prays, plenty of time inside you, plenty of time to bury his cock in your slick, warm cunt. 

He kneels. Kneels at the altar, kneels for you. This is veneration, the cleansing of his soul. He’ll make himself worthy, through fire, through ash.

You, you, it’s all you. 

The bond is insatiable, it shrieks like a banshee in the night, his side slamming against yours again and again, hungry and hunting, trying to crash through the sky-high brambles blocking its path.

His. His. Hishishishis- 

“Azriel,” you whimper, practically vibrating, fidgeting on the table, fingers gripping the edge. You go taut as he pulls your thighs over his shoulders and leans in to finally put his mouth on you, tasting, flicking his tongue over your swollen pearl. He’s too broad between your knees, the width of him leaving you completely exposed, every nerve ending on display, every drop of dew ready for him to drink. The size difference is startling, pleasing, and he rumbles his approval into your cunt, tracing your clit with a pointed tongue.

He wants to make you come so badly, but the fiend in him wants to play. “Can you take a finger?” You manage to rasp out a yes, and he feeds you one, unable to look at away at how you clench around it, pressing up past the knuckle, making you sing for him. “That’s it,” he works slowly, pushing and pulling as you arch on the table, toes curling against his shoulder blades, digging into his flesh, “good girl.” You’re tight, tight enough a second finger fills you, tight enough you squeak a little when he kicks them upward, searching for the spot, the one likely to make to go limp.

“Az,” you tug at his hair, and he kisses your pussy, mouth soaked, almost drowning in silken sap, fresh rain, salted earth, the strange and beautiful taste of you.

“Just a bit more,” he finds the textured velvet space and strokes, pinning your hip to the table with his free hand. “There it is, be still,” he croons, pleased when you listen, stammering something like yes and please, panting between syllables. Your nails scratch against the wood, walls clutching his fingers as you writhe, greedy, insatiable, wild as nature intended you to be.

He circles your clit with his tongue and your knees instinctively try to jolt closed, but he shakes his head, correcting you, commanding or coaching, lines too blurred to tell the difference. “Keep your legs open, sweet girl, nice and wide for me so I can make you come.”

 “P-please, please.” Your spine arches and you grip the hand on your hip tight, rising to the crest of the wave he knows is about to crash down. He balances you there, just on the swell, pushing harder on the spot inside you, listening to the way your breath catches. “Ah, fuck, it’s t-too much-” you kick your feet and hiccup, head rolled to the side, eyes wide and brighter than the full moon, tears starting to gather on your lashes.

He'll eat you alive, lick you clean right to the bone, inhale you. Swallow you. Keep you inside himself forever, keep you safe and sheltered. Hidden away.  

“I know, I know,” he coos. Normally he’d make you wait, drag it out until you were a mess far past this while he edged you into madness, but now is not the right time, the right moment.

Still. His blood yearns for it. For your tears, for the way you’d cry as he bounced you on his cock, as his body buried yours into his mattress, as he split you open, fucked you full of his cum.

But for now, this will have to do.

“Poor thing. Does it ache, sweetheart? Do you need to come?”

“Y-yeah, I need it please… I need… I need you.” I need you. If this is all he gets, if this is all he’s earned and it crumbles afterwards, he’ll hold onto those words, treasuring them with his last breath. I need you. He kisses your thigh and then sweeps over your clit, licking and lapping, coaxing your release until you break apart, clapping a hand over your mouth to smother your strangled scream. He praises you- my good girl, look at you, did so well, so perfect- and wrings every last drop of it from your body, only rising from between your legs once you’ve stopped twitching.

Your face is slack, sloped in a small delirious smile, and he licks his fingers clean, kisses the inside of your knee. “Are you with me?”

“Mhmm.” You try to hop down and end up stumbling forward, face planting directly into his chest. His arms come around you on instinct, cupping the back of your head, cradling it, skimming his nose along your hair and breathing as deep as he can, filling his lungs with forest and fauna, fresh snow in the twilight of the first winters day.

Don’t let go, don’t.

Everything in him is warm, at peace. Idyllic.

Your hand creeps across his thigh. “I can…”

“No,” he pulls your fingers to his mouth and presses a kiss to each one, slowly, savoring, “not today.”  An easy smile spreads across his face at the sight of your blown pupils, swollen lips, but the bond thrums with confusion, unease.

“Do you not want me to…”

“I want to have you in any way conceivable, witchling,” he strokes your cheek, “but not here.” Your worktable is in shambles, and as if you forgot, you grimace and huff, pulling away. “I can help-“

“No, it’s fine.” The things scattered to each end begin to arrange themselves, finding their rightful places, glass beakers and molten silver, crushed bundles of herbs and finely ground powders all returning to how they were as if nothing ever happened, tinge of damp foliage and peeling birch rolling around you in a cloud.

“Neat trick.”

“It’s not a trick,” you protest, affronted, and his stomach drops.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“ The side of your mouth quirks playfully, and he closes the gap, curls an arm around your waist as you place your palms on his chest, laughing. Just the brief sound of your happiness might kill him, stop his heart. He finds the curve of your ass instinctively and squeezes, kneads the flesh hard enough you suck in a sharp breath.

“Little brat.” He could take you right now. He wants to. Flip your dress up all over again and bend you over the table, pressing your cheek to the wood and kicking your legs open. You’d still be wet, wanting, pussy swollen and tight, milking his cock as he made you come on it until you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer.

Not now. 

This, whatever this is, this step forward, this rebuilding of what could have been, is fragile, so incredibly tenuous it terrifies him. A small light trying to swell in a sea of sombrous fog, fighting for a chance to shine.

Anything could snuff it out.

“Our next… meeting won’t be until the very end of next week.” The sun is setting over the city, bathing it in a spectrum of opalescence orange-gold streaked with violet, it’s beauty paling in comparison to the brilliance of yours.

“Why?”

“I’m travelling.”  A ripple of tension cascades along his spine. He planned other things for this conversation, hoped to broach the subject of the Solstice ball and ask you to accompany him, but now…

“Where?” The bond rumbles in apprehension, echoing from both sides, his wings rustling in response.

“Spring.” Absolutely not.

“No.” You glare at him.

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

“I’m aware.” He should soften his tone, tread carefully, but the monster inside, the one fused to the bond overrides sensibility, caution, showing his true colors. Brute. Bastard. Illyrian. 

“I-“

“I’ll go with you.” Balance. You sigh.

“I am fine on my own, Azriel.”

“I know.” But he’s not. “As you said earlier, I still owe you an explanation.” That gives you pause, your scrutiny harsh and piercing, more lethal than the fine point of a blade.

Finally, you acquiesce with a nod. “You do.”

“Let’s use that time for it then.” Please. He’s always pleading, digging a deeper hole, dragging himself across broken glass.

The bond is tightrope, one strung from his soul to yours. He tugs it towards his side, trying to drag yours from the vadon, flush your indecipherable thoughts free from the forest of your mind.

Eventually, your hard-bitten expression turns conciliatory and though you cross your arms in front of your chest, you bite out an agreement, teeth gnashed, defiance glittering in your gaze.

“Fine.”

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

hey so how do you think Riddle, Epel and Lilia would deal with them having a crush on reader who they are friends with. They’re in a group project with 3 other people and from one of the ghost girls, discussion of types of boys their into comes up and they go on about how “Epel/Riddle/Lilia are too short for my taste”. And the boys crush is like “you know, It’s your loss if you don’t date a boy just cuz he’s short”.? (Reader has never really made comments about their height and perceived “delicate appearance”. Reader actually thinks the three of them is gonna be handsome one day).

A/n: No comments this time !!! I'm just rushing (I think) !!!

Gender neutral, use of 'you'.

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Lilia Vanrouge[💘], Epel Felmier.

💘Appearances over heart? Damn.💘

Summary: He was in love with you, his best friend. I mean, like, infatuated. But, still couldn't confess, why? Either they were too much of a coward or simply needed time to process their feelings. But, what if? One day, you and him get into a group project, with three other girls that decide to talk about types of boys instead of putting in the effort of actually being someone's type, then they go talking about height. Their pride is higher than their almost to [none] admirers.

Warnings ⚠️: idk OOC(?), Cussy, fluff lots of fluff, shaming men's appearance, use of 'you', cussy, insults, idk what else to add in here.

Riddle Rosehearts [his and my momma r the same person 😒]

Scene: You and Riddle were friends, like tight-knit friends. You'd always come by to check up on him, offering him [food of your choice], and doing normal stuff like friends should do [and not touch-]. Riddle will always tie your bow when it's crooked, even tie your shoelaces if you don't know how, and always remind you to get to class before you are late. You've always known Riddle has a temper whenever someone comments on his height *Sneaks a glance at Floyd* but, either you or Trey, he manages to calm down. It kept going on like this until Cater had pointed out how soft he had been lately, how he looked forward to seeing you more and teased him about it. Riddle had never had a crush on anyone. Not until now. So, one morning, a group project came up, and you just so happened to be in the same group project with him [<-teachers knew] and assigned three other girls, but the thing is. They just talking, not doing their work.

•Riddle does not like this one bit, the fact that they are just talking and laughing rather than doing their work frustrates him.

•No, he's not mad at you for doing the same thing, just scolded you. (<-favoritism)

•He just wanted some peace

•"I rlly hate short men, like idk why are they short?? Haha! They are sooo not my type. And like, I would rather have tall, rich guys. And honestly? I really don't like Riddle's height-" "Maybe work on that appearance first, so that maybe, the entire race of every men wouldn't reject you. It is very obvious that you were rejected by one. Now get over it, and do your fucking work. Don't insult Riddle's height, at least his intelligence is higher than both your egos."

•Damn. Now he's red as heck. I mean sure, he was mad about the two girls talking about his height, then going to comment more about how much they dislike his height, until you stepped up.

•He's honestly feeling a bit proud of himself, you haven't even commented about his height once, and he's grateful for it. And he's blushing so much he almost lost focus on the project, but of course, like the model student he is, he clears his throat and continues the project. All the while sending a displeased look at the girls, with pure disappointment.

Lilia vanrouge[Hana, r u going to find this one?? 🫶]

Scene: You and Lilia were just 'friends'. But you guys talk to each other, A LOT. To the point everyone knows you both are literal buddies whenever there's a school gossip, exams, quizzes, tests, and especially projects. But you two managed to finish in time [or through the deadline]. Lilia liked scaring you out of the quiet blue, playing little lovely tricks on you, and pranking you then gifting you, your [favorite snack]. You'd also do the same thing for him, scaring him unexpectedly from a random timing that of course fails everytime, you giving him little tricks he finds cute, and you give him his favorite snacks as well! Oh, and when there's marshmallows on it? Dw, you can eat it! So, he doesn't know when it happened, but he gained feelings for you, at first he thought it was physical attraction, but then he noticed small things about you. Your laugh, your smile, your hair in the breeze, your eyes gleaming with joy, and a grin so blinding he wishes it would be the last thing he sees. So, let's say one day, there was this group project from professor Crewel. You and Lilia get paired up, with two more people. But, these people aren't particularly pleasing to be around with...

•Oh my, instead of doing their work, they are just talking about men and heights.. oh, poor Lilia! They don't seem to like short cuties like him !!! :(

•"To be honest? I don't like Lilia that much. Like, his height is so small how's he going to get a partner? Seriously, I don't get why everyone seems so nice to him, he's a short lil' guy that can't do shit-" "And neither can you. Now sit the fuck down if flapping your mouth away is all you can do." "Excuse me!??" "I'm sorry, you must be deaf as well. You might need hearing aids, Lilia is older than you and can still hear clearly, I'm surprised that you have the senses of a long-dead ancestor. I wonder how good you are with running that mouth of yours instead of shutting the fuck up." "..."

•OHHHHH BURNNNN !!!! My, beastie, he never knew you had that in you! What a surprise!~

•It was quite satisfying seeing them sit back down and doing their work rather than blabbing nonsense. It was quite refreshing to see another side of you as well! Who know you were capable of such thing?~

•Ah, well that just made him fall for you even more... my, what to do with his ancient heart that beats for you? He feels youthful again.

•chuckling he continues to do the project. Although, he wouldn't do it completely without messing around with you first!~

Epel Felmier [My buddy, my bestie, where are your simps?]

Scene: You and Epel were inseparable. He fights, you support. He's going against Vil? You're there. He's going to fight someone for dissing his height/mistaking him as a girl? You're there, along with drinks and popcorn. He wants to be manly? You cheer him on and encourage his dreams, but even so, he can still be manly while looking the way he is. You wish he sees that, and he's trying he really is. But it never looked manly enough. So you've done a different method, you'd hang out with him not to encourage his manliness or to discourage because he's 'girly' but to make him enjoy what's in front of him in life. And he's grateful for that. He wishes this could go on and on forever. That is, had he not been too caught up in this moment he would've realized that he had fallen quite hard for you. So one day, when a project came up and you two got paired with two more others, things started to get into a, unpleasant turn.

•Epel knew these fuckers were up to no good, I mean, look at them! They just scream 'schemers' !!!!

• "Yeah, so like my type in guys, would be AT LEAST taller, and-" everything goes blank for Epel. He, who had been trying to impress you for weeks, had gone into a sudden insecurity. What if they're right? Girls like tall guys because they are much more manly, right?

•"Yeah, I know right ! And like, Epel is the LEAST attractive, but he's way too cute and girly for me-" he wants them so dead-

•"How about you sit your asses down and shut the fuck up? The only thing YOUR good for is sitting down and look pretty.

...

...Pretty fucking useless. Epel is much stronger and better than the two of you, bet you can't carry a crater all on your own. So, before you fucking judge and open that mouth of yours even when you don't know what he's capable of, I'd suggest you stop and reconsider. Please, use your brains. If you have any, that is."

•DAMN. Ouch prefect, never knew you had that in you!

•And you defended him! That's his job! That's... you defended him despite his height...? Man, he just fell for you more!

•Maybe having a fierce and supportive partner would be nice, together with him...

The End.

A/n: WOOO!! I FINISHED YAYAYA!! :>

Enjoy a smiling Lilia Vanrouge (*´ω｀*)

I hope you had fun reading !!! Srry if short, I'm just hurrying !!

[midorimooon]

bad timing | hawks x sidekick! reader

word count - 1.5k notes - just a drabble featuring reader as hawks's sidekick. no plot, just these two flirting and having inappropriate work relations. warnings - suggestive, no smut! just humor and banter. allusion to erection.

Something pelts your shoulder, plopping at your feet.  Clicking your tongue, your bleary eyes blink at the hacky sack on the floor.

You look up, frowning. “Can I help you?”

A red feather plucks up the hacky sack and drops it onto Hawks’s palm. He tilts his head, assessing you. “What’s with the slow motion? You look tiiiiired.”

On cue, a yawn slips out before you can stop it. Between the late-night patrol and reporting back to Hawks’s agency at the crack of dawn, your sharp motor skills have turned to cotton, leaving you exhausted. Sidekick duties never seem to end. 

You shrug, failing to cover another, more hefty yawn. “I’m fine.”

Hawks snorts a mimicry of your own voice. “’I’m fine’. Says someone who’s dead on her feet.”

“I’m fine,” you echo, rubbing the corner of your eye. “Just a little sleepy. I’ll wake up in a bit.”

Ice rattles as a full cup of coffee is shaken before your face. Hawks urges you to take his drink. “Here, this’ll help.”

Your nose wrinkles and you inch away. “Don’t like coffee.”

Hawks sips on the straw, smacking his lips. “Then sleep.”

Another yawn springs forth. “Right...I'll just snooze while on the clock."

"Who cares? Have a nap." He gestures to the couch, beaming with mischief. “It’s big enough for the both of us. Did you know I’m a good cuddler?”

Your frown deepens. “Don’t you have paperwork? Or a meeting elsewhere? Interns to train?”

Unfazed, Hawks shrugs. “All of the above, but those can wait. I’m more concerned about my sidekick. She needs my attention right now…” His voice drops into a playful purr as he motions forward. 

You step backward, maintaining an HR-appropriate distance. It’s obvious where Hawks wants this to go. You can decipher his tells at a distance—how his eyes rake up your body, snagging on your lips as he bites his own, all without shame too. Then comes the crooning in his voice, the pride whenever he says my sidekick, and how he knows you’re just as shameless as he is. 

The corner of your mouth curls, proving him right time and time again.   

Is it professional? Of course not. But you both have a pulse, unable to ignore that sweet, sexual tension that’s been brewing since you signed with his agency. 

You’ve both mastered this dance between boss and subordinate. It’s always business in front of others. Strictly maintaining a professional and platonic façade with the public wasn’t hard either.

What’s hard was the endless close proximity to him. On assignment, there were other sidekicks tagging along, and the occasional intern from UA. 

Still, that never stopped either of you from exchanging heated looks and sometimes touches when no one was looking. The rare moments when there was no one around often tested those professional boundaries, like right now. 

Because despite it all, there remains that fine line you’ve yet to cross. Him on one side, you on the other. Only time will tell when and who will be the first to throw caution to the wind and cross over. 

You know it won’t be you. At least not now…

“Hawks…” The back of your legs hit the couch’s armrest, only aware that Hawks had led you there with every forward step. 

If he wants to (you want, too, but you keep that to yourself), Hawks could coax you on your back with his charm. But you stay resilient, pretend that your pulse isn’t racing. “That paperwork’s not gonna do itself.”

He quirks a brow, taking your chin in his gloved hand. “Neither am I.”

The double-meaning behind his words is almost enough to have you break. 

Before his lips could mesh with yours, you turn away, yawning loudly, and ruining the mood. “I should catch up with the others.”

Hawks expels a dramatic sigh. “Why do you hate me?”

You laugh. “Who said that?”

“It’s true. You’re always running off to hang with them.” His fingers trail the neckline of your uniform. “What about me? I get lonely too.”

You lift a brow. “They are in the same pay range as me. And you—” You poke a finger to his toned chest to no avail. “Have a laundry list of shit to do today.”

Hawks takes your hand, pressing it against the side of his face. “Later. Got other priorities.”

“Hawks, I’m fine.”

“You’re tense and tired.” He nuzzles into your palm, kissing your fingertips. “Let me help you relax. My sidekick needs to blow off steam and I want to help her.”

“What about your other sidekicks? They could use some of your TLC too,” you tease. 

“They’re fine,” Hawks muses, running your fingers along his lips. “Don’t tell them this.” Suddenly his voice drops to a murmur. “But you’re my favorite.”

You roll your eyes to mask the heat crawling up your neck. Of course, you knew that already, but it still made you weak-kneed to hear him say it. 

“So? What do you say?” He perks up, hopeful and charming. “Let your hero Hawks help you…”

Before you could reiterate the bad timing, a gasp rushes out of you. 

Hawks had managed to slip your middle finger into his mouth, biting down to interrupt you. “I can start with tongue,” he mumbles, sucking on your finger. 

For a moment, you’re spellbound, gawking at his plush lips wrapped around your finger. Your mind blanks, elusive to all thought. 

“Have I convinced you yet?” Hawks bites down again, sharper than before. 

You hiss, reeling your hand free so abruptly, you fall back. 

Soft leather catches your fall. You get a glimpse of the overhead lights before Hawks crawls over you, wings fanned out and a halo limns behind his head. 

“Look at that, you changed your mind after all,” he croons with a noticeable edge. Despite the ramifications, you’re relieved when bears down to kiss you. 

It’s not a soft kiss either. It’s full of vigor and desperation—

Fury.

After months and months of toeing the line between hero and sidekick, this is how your first kiss with Hawks should feel. 

Tossing caution to the wind, you match his rhythm. It’s a stroke of tongues, an exchange of desperate noise, an all-consuming hunger to devour the other. 

You break apart for air, a thin thread of saliva tethering your lips to his. “Hawks…”

“Keigo,” he growls. “As cool as Hawks sounds, I’d rather you hear you moan my name.” 

Your skin heats both at his authority and the intimate request. “Keigo…” you husk, watching his eyes darken. 

Something akin to satisfaction flashes behind his eyes. He leans in again.

As his lips ghost yours, a loud buzzing rumbles against the couch’s cushion. Seconds later, another noise joins the first.

You recognize them to be your phones, alerting you both of an emergency nearby. 

Hawks groans, sinking his face into your shoulder. “Why?”

The buzzing persists, urgent and dire, you know neither of you can wait any longer.

“Rain check,” you say, shifting under Hawks’s weight. 

He shakes his head, keeping you pinned. “Five minutes…” He slots his mouth over yours like he won’t get this chance again. 

All you hear is the rush of adrenaline in your ears until—

Knock, knock, knock. 

“Hawks!” a voice calls out from behind the office doors. “We received the emergency alert.”

Bless his new intern, Tsukuyomi. 

“Bad timing, birdman.” You manage to slip away, and Hawks begrudgingly lets you. 

He huffs, sending his feathers to gather his visor and headphones. He does a quick a onceover on his phone to assess the emergency and gets on his feet. 

“I’ll lead Tsukuyomi and the others,” you offer, heading towards the door. 

“I’ll come with you.” Hawks follows but you stop him. 

“No, you get a head start and take the window.” 

“The window?” Hawks’s brows furrow together, clueless for a second, then follows where your eyes have drifted to. He puffs out a shameless laugh, reminded of his raging erection, visible beneath his belt. “Ah…right. Should take care of this…”

Hero work can be so cruel. 

You’re equally disappointed. Finally, giving in to temptation and the world decides to burn. 

Now that you’ve had a sample, you couldn’t care less anymore about the ramifications. You and Hawks could deal with all that at a later date. 

You reach out to stroke his jaw, admiring how your touch makes his throat roll in a slow gulp. “I’m off at 7p, remember?”

His eyes are alight. “Meet me here.”

He tries to steal a kiss, but you dodge it, reminding him, “Emergency now. That couch…later.”

[burningember0802]

Three's Company Ch. 5

A/N: So I know I literally *just* posted about how I was going to try and write this chapter within the week but I started it and swear I got possessed or something and suddenly I was done and it was 2.7k words.

so we are back again with our stupid attendings who fucked up reallll bad. We’re also learning a little bit more about reader and her past! And about why she possibly acts the way she acts! Let the groveling begin!

Warnings: sexual content in some chapters, cursing, medical inaccuracies, suicidal tendencies, mention of death, PTSD, yelling, heavy angst, domestic violence, mental breakdown, injuries (let me know if I'm missing anything!)

Word count: 2.7k words

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

Ever since the incident between the three of you where both Jack and Robby yelled at you on the same day things haven’t been the same, as expected. The next time they each worked with you they couldn’t help but notice the way you entirely pulled back from them. How your comfortability with them had taken one small step forward to take six steps back and it was all their fault. The guilt ate at them. You were like a completely different person, a shell of the girl they had known, the light that once filled the room when you walked in dimmed. 

You had not only pulled away from them, but everyone in the ER. Robby and Jack got the worst of it of course. There was no more casual conversation with them, no more smiles, no more coffee exchanged with Jack in the middle of shifts, no more playful bickering over patients with Robby. You seemed like you were walking on eggshells around them, acting like a scared doe waiting for the second the shoe is going to drop and they snap at you again. You had pulled away from everyone else in the ER too, acting much more reserved and quiet than before, no longer the confident, intelligent resident everyone in the Pitt loved. Mel and Samira had noticed it too, noticing how you talked to them less, didn’t stick around to chat after shifts or texting in between shifts. You still talked to people, trying not to worry anyone too much, but your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes like it used to, that light behind them gone, anxiety left in its wake. 

This was eating Robby and Jack alive, the guilt and shame gnawing at their stomachs, twisting and turning with every glimpse of you. They knew they shouldn’t have acted the way they did and that they needed to apologize but they didn’t know how, didn’t know how to get you to listen to them, trust them. They had been watching you closer in the ER during your shifts with them, observing you, trying to dissect your presence, trying to find something to help them make this up. Even Dana had noticed the shift in you, watching you closer than normal, knowing your past and how it can affect you sometimes. She even confronted Robby and Jack during a shift change once, cornering them in the family room. 

“What the hell did you two idiots do to our best resident?” Dana asked them sternly, hands on her hips, no greeting, no ‘hello, how are you?’, just straight to the point. Both men ducked their heads like dogs getting scolded for getting in the trash, Jack’s lips tightening into a fine line and Robby’s face twisting in what almost looked like pain, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “We fucked up really bad…” Jack mumbled, feeling like a child in trouble, but he knew he deserved it. “No shit, now what did you guys do?” Dana asks, her eyebrows raised in expectation. “We both yelled at her badly in front of everyone on the same day while she was working a double…” Robby mumbles quietly. Dana pinches the bridge of her nose, letting out a strained sigh. “God you two fucked up worse than I thought. You have to fix this, and soon.” She says poking a finger at the two men, a pointed look on her face. They both nod, shame riddled on their faces. Dana gives them another look before leaving the two of them to do their normal shift change briefing. 

The next day had gone on normally, or as normal as things can be for you in the ER right now while you’re constantly avoiding whatever attending you’re working with, ignoring the concerned glances you’re getting from your coworkers, and the way said attendings keep staring at you. The day seemed like it was going to be a decent one until you were pulled aside by Dana while you were walking through the ER, pulling you aside to the nurses station. “Hey, could you possibly do me a favor?” Dana asks hesitantly, both of you leaning on the nurses station counter. “Sure? What is it?” You asked, brows furrowed in confusion. “Well we have a girl in exam room 3, here for what seems to be domestic violence injuries. She seems really scared and is hesitant to let us get Kiara for her to talk to.” Dana says, a soft look on her face. 

Robby hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, he really didn’t. But still he found himself standing at the nurses station going through patient charts over and over, his back towards you and Dana just so he could hear the seemingly sensitive conversation between the two of you. “I was wondering if you could possibly talk to her? I think talking to someone who has experience with it will help ease her anxiety, especially someone her age range.” Dana explains to you, worry on her face. You stand there for a moment, taking in her words, contemplating her question before you take a deep breath and nod. “Thank you so much hun. You don’t know how helpful this is. So while you talk to her Robby and I will stand in there with you to help with things as needed and unfortunately it’s typically policy for attendings to be there when broaching a topic that will involve the social work department.” Dana explains, a nervous smile on her face. She knew that things between you and the main attendings weren’t great but she hoped this wouldn’t stop you from doing this. 

When she told you Robby was going to have to be there when you talked to her your stomach dropped to your toes, your heart rate picking up slightly. You knew you needed to do this though, for the patient’s sake, so you took a deep breath and nodded again. Dana stepped away long enough to grab Robby who was still standing at the nurses station acting like he wasn’t listening. Then the three of you walked into the exam room where the patient was. She had multiple bruises on her arms and a broken wrist, many of the bruises being in the shape of someone’s hands or from someone gripping her arms. She was a similar age to you, around 25, only a few years younger but she looked so small right now. The girl was sitting in the hospital bed wearing a gown from the examinations they had to do, a scratchy hospital blanket thrown across her legs, her hands in her lap. It was obvious she had been crying, her eyes red and glassy, her figure shaking slightly. 

You walked into the exam room quietly and sat in the chair next to her bed facing her, Robby and Dana standing to the side. You offered her a weak smile, one that wasn’t returned. “So I heard that someone in your life might be hurting you?...” you say softly, your own hands planted in your lap firmly, a soft look on your face despite the tension radiating in your body. The girl looked at you, her face scrunching a little. “Did they send you in here to tell me how stupid I am for getting myself in this situation and that I need to just leave?” She says, frustration in her voice. You shake your head softly. “No…I’m a doctor here…a 3rd year resident. I’m here to talk to you for a little, be an ear to listen if you want…someone who knows what it’s like.” You explain quietly, the patient’s face softening slightly. “What do you mean you know what it’s like?” She asks, her voice wavering slightly. You swallow the lump in your throat, letting it join the anxiety twisting deep in your gut. “When I was around your age, from when I was 21-25, I was in a domestic violence relationship and let it get worse than it should’ve…” You say, your voice steady and calm, your gaze locked on your hands in your lap. You could feel the eyes of the patient, Dana and Robby on you.

“He said it was an accident…that he’d never do it again…he said he loved me…” The girl in front of you said, her voice strained and her eyes watering. “They say that but they don’t mean it hun. It isn’t an accident. It will only get worse. It starts with the anger during small arguments, and then comes the yelling, then comes the name calling, then comes the throwing of items around the house, then comes them throwing items at you, and then they put their hands on you. The first time it happens they cry and scream that it’s an accident, that they love you, that it won’t happen again…but it will. It’ll happen again and again. I let myself fall into that trap of manipulation and it ended with me covered in bruises, a broken cheekbone, a broken collarbone, and two broken ribs. I’m lucky I wasn’t beaten to death honestly. It got this bad because I believed him, believed he loved me, that it was my fault, that it wouldn’t happen again…but it was a lie. He didn’t love me, not really. He loved the control he had over me. No one who truly loves you will ever lay a hand on you without consent.” You explain, meeting the girl's gaze. She started crying softly as you spoke, the weight of her words hitting her like a bus. “I’m scared…I don’t know what to do…” She whispered through her tears. “That’s why we’re here. I didn’t leave because I thought I couldn’t. I had nowhere to go, no one to talk to, no support system. We’re here to help though, we have resources for this, people who can help. Do you have anyone you can talk to about this? Anyone you can stay with right now?” You ask the girl softly, placing your hand on her gently. She nods through her tears. “Good, that’ll help a lot. We have our social worker Kiara coming down to talk to you, show you some resources, some people to talk to that can help. It’ll be okay. I promise. It may not feel okay today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even in a week, but one day it will. I promise. Here…here’s my number, call or text me if you need anything or someone to talk to.” You say softly, grabbing a paper from nearby and scribbling your number on it before handing it to her.

 “Thank you…” The girl sitting in front of you whispers. “How do you move on from it? How do I become okay again?” She asks quietly. You let out a sigh, looking at her again. “Well it’ll probably take awhile, a lot of work, a lot of therapy but my biggest thing was not letting him hold me back, not letting him stop my life because I was scared, because I was upset. That just proves him right, shows him the control he still has over you. So my biggest piece of advice is to feel your feelings, but don’t let them control you. There will be times where they take over, where you feel like you’re right back in that situation again, flashbacks coursing through your head, but those will get better over time.” You explain to her, a soft, empathetic look on your face. The girl nods again, taking in your words. Then at perfect timing the social worker, Kiara, enters the room quietly. You introduce Kiara to the patient in front of you, making sure the patient is okay before you, Robby, and Dana leave the room. 

As Robby listened to you talk about your experience with domestic violence he felt sick to his stomach, the bile bubbling up in the back of his throat, begging to get out, to expel the awful feeling in his gut. He knew that wouldn’t fix it though, and wouldn't take the guilt and shame that filled his being away. He felt anger building up in himself as well, his jaw ticking at your words as he clenched his teeth. He couldn’t believe someone could do that to anyone, let alone you. You, who lit up every room you walked into, who was the kindest and empathetic person he ever met, who had a special skill for making everyone feel comfortable no matter the situation, who made funny faces at the kids in the ER to cheer them up while they got tests done, who lit up his world. The mental image of you battered and bruised in the way you described hurt him, made his chest twist and ache in a way it never has before. He wanted to take you into his arms and never let you go, protect you forever, show you that he’d never let it happen to you again, that he’d never do that to you. He knew he couldn’t though, that he had no right to, especially after what he and Jack did. 

As he listened it hit him exactly what he and Jack did, how bad they really fucked up. He realizes that he and Jack had most likely triggered you and the trauma response and fear you had gained from your experience. This realization hit him like a bus, the guilt and shame worse than ever. He understood now why you had acted the way you did, why you completely drew back from everyone, especially them. You were doing the only thing you knew how to do to protect yourself, to keep yourself from getting in that situation again. He knew he needed to talk to Jack as soon as he got here for shift change, and that they needed to figure out how to make it up to you, to apologize for their actions. 

Once you left the room you left no time for Dana and Robby to talk to you, ask you any questions about what you said. You knew Dana knew the story of everything, she’d been a close family friend for years, a mother like figure to you. But you could see on Robby’s face that he was itching to talk to you and you knew you couldn’t handle it right now. Once you were clear of the exam room you quickly walked to the staff bathroom, shutting and locking it behind you, praising whatever deity was out there that it was a single stall. The door shut and the lock clicked and everything hit you. Every ounce of tension, anxiety, PTSD, etc. hit you…hard. You walked quickly to the toilet, your knees barely hitting the ground before the contents of your stomach were emptied into the toilet in front of you. After it was over you wiped your mouth and sat there for a few minutes, your chest heaving, almost hyper ventilating. The room felt like it was closing in on you, like you couldn’t breath and everything felt heavy. You stood up and leaned on the bathroom sink, staring at your figure in the mirror, your chest heaving, your face flushed, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. The girl in front of you in the mirror scared you…you looked like the girl who was beaten by someone she thought loved her, who was too scared to say anything. Your thoughts were rushing in your head, a headache already coming on. You turn on the sink and splash your face with some cold water, drying it off with your shirt, hoping it would bring you back to reality, save you from the impending breakdown. As much as you wished it worked you still found yourself curled into yourself in the corner of the bathroom, the feeling of the cold tiles under your skin. Your knees were drawn up to your chest, your head shoved against your knees, hands over your ears, your figure rocking in an attempt to comfort yourself as your body wracked with quiet sobs, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The world felt like it was closing in, like it was too loud, too much, and you were all alone.

[mullermilkshake]

People would assume

Part 1 <- Part 2 -> Part 3

So you're Satoru Gojo?

It’s the next day and the auction is happening and you have to deal with your boss once more.

Kento Nanami x Fem!reader Kento is rough,he's jealous,manipulation,Gojo is flirty,

<- Masterlist

You were conflicted. 

So conflicted on whether it was a good idea to do as Kento Nanami asked of you. Of course you needed to because you didn't want to lose your job, but you hated what he did, how he abused your trust and assaulted you right there under the table. 

Where did it all come from? Why had he been so forward to pull something like that when he had never shown any sign of an attraction towards you before? Asking someone to get a drink and displaying that level of lewdness were two sides of a completely distorted coin. He sounded like a possessive lover, or an antagonised husband who caught you in an affair of your own. 

You scrubbed yourself when you got home, sat in the bath for over an hour until the water went cold, making yourself clean. You never slept either, giant black bags under your eyes were a dead give away, everyone would know what he did, it was written all over your face.  

Here you were, at the lobby of the gallery, the launch you had put so much work into making it the biggest event of the year in the art world. Your stomach made you acutely aware of the sinking sensation, flipping and twisting to the point you thought you would vomit. 

Your heart dropped when your boss came into view in the lobby, watching servers flit in and out of doorways with champagne and nibbles for the guests. You didn't want to go to him, you wanted to yell out at what a pervert he was, someone to take him away forever and pray for a new replacement that wouldn’t require HR’s interception.

He turned and spotted you immediately as soon as you stepped inside, but someone blocked your way. 

“So you’re the one who’s been looking after my account huh?”

“Excuse me?” You smiled in confusion at the white haired man, your eyes flitting between him to Mr Nanami.

“Satoru Gojo? The most handsome client you could ever have?” Was he flirting with you?

Oh shit. You remembered.

“Yes of course Mr Gojo.” You faked that smile on your face and offered your hand. “My apologies.”

He took it, shaking longer than what was deemed socially acceptable. “Y’know, I wish I had seen you face to face for our meetings instead of on the phone, Nanami never said how gorgeous you were.” 

“That’s because it’s inappropriate to talk about a work colleague in that way Gojo. Please don't harass my staff.” 

Mr Nanami stepped in behind you and you froze, he broke up your hands taking yours in his and held it longer than he should have. He spoke like he always had, pretending last night never happened. 

How could Mr Gojo not see? You thought everybody would see it all over your face, but no one did.You wanted someone to punch him square in the face, Mr Gojo looked like the type to have strength behind a swing, so why wasn’t he doing it? 

Frustration to speak up kept you quiet. 

“Oh c’mon Nanami, I’m only playing so don’t be such a bore, look at her. She shouldn’t be working for you because she’d look much better on my arm.” Satoru Gojo set his sights on you and held out his arm. “How about it?”

You could see your boss’s eyes burning into you along with Gojo’s smile, a wink over his sunglasses he wore inside. His arm looked very inviting, even though he seemed just as much of a bad egotistical choice as Mr Nanami was, but at least you supposed were sure he wouldn’t do anything remotely as fucked up as last night. 

“I-I’m sorry, I really must decline, Mr Nanami has much to do and I’m here to assist him.” 

“That’s a shame.” He pulled a card from his suit and slipped it between your fingertips. “My personal number, if you change your mind.” 

The cardstock, thick and embossed, cream coloured with a textured look. Very expensive. Very pretentious. It was there for a second and then gone, ripped from your fingers and crumpled up in Mr Nanami's fist.

“It’s not very professional taking personal numbers from clients, is it? I thought you were going to behave?” 

You had a sudden splurge of confidence stir up inside of you, no one spoke to you that way and someone who had no say in your personal life couldn’t dictate it either. You responded, keeping your voice low to avoid a scene. “Sir, I’m here to work for you and that is it. Please don’t insert yourself into my personal affairs. Firstly I wouldn’t do something so unprofessional, secondly we need to discuss what happened last night. But for now, tell me what you need me to do and we’ll call it there.” 

He nodded and his expression was neutral. “Okay. Come with me then.” 

He guided you off to the side, a smaller room down a long hall that housed the coats and belongings of some of the wealthiest minds in the entire country. Great, you were on cloakroom duty. That was what your retaliation got you. 

He turned quickly, no one was in there except the two of you. You immediately felt the pressure in your shoulders as he grabbed you, forcing you up against the wall and the door slammed shut after he kicked it. “I recognise that I’ve given you preferential treatment, but I didn't think it would affect your manners. Don’t ever talk to me like that again, do you understand me?”

Nothing. Nothing that could have come out of your mouth would have, or could have made this better or pulled you out of the situation. Part of you wanted Mr Gojo to burst in and knock the man on his ass for speaking the way he did. Manners? What preferential treatment did he give you? It was nothing short of harassment and plain perversion. 

“Mr Nanami-”

He was much closer now, your noses almost touched and the height difference was frightfully obvious. “I’ve treated you well here, haven’t I? I bet you haven't even cancelled that date I told you to get rid of either? What am I going to do with you if you won't do as you're told?”

“Why are you doing this? Where has this all come from?”

He chuckled, quietly enough, but it was there. “All this time, and you had no idea that I’ve wanted you ever since you stepped into my office for your interview.”

That was four years ago, four years when you started and you were none the wiser, but it wasn’t only that, Mr Nanami had relationships whilst you were there, word got around easy in an office, it always did. 

He didn’t move an inch no matter how much you tried to pull him off you. “Then tell me you have a thing for me like a normal person, not whatever this is and that shit show last night. I don’t appreciate it and you're scaring me, let me go.”

Mr Nanami didn’t respond to your words, he only took a brief glance at his watch. “The auction starts in thirty minutes. I want you behind the display waiting to make sure the right pieces go out, do not leave unless I tell you. We wouldn’t want Gojo ogling you again, would we?”

“Fine. Can you let me go now please?”

“Of course.” He let you go and tidied a section of your hair. “Keep yourself out of trouble until then.” A stroke to your cheek and the pad of his thumb ghosted over your lip. 

Then he just left, closing the door behind him and left you in a delayed rut once the confidence you have faltered. You were confused with shallow breaths that came built up once you were alone with the coats and bags that had just witnessed the same thing you had. 

What the fuck is going on?

You left the room as quickly as you went in, straightening yourself up along with your dress just past your knees. You could smell him on you, you swore it, now everyone would definitely know. 

“Fancy bumping into you again.”

You had to actively cover your mouth to stifle the startled gasp from your lips. “M-mr Gojo, the auction will be starting soon, you should really take your seat.” 

He looked you up and down, but this time his eyes weren’t so hungry, they weren’t perverted in a way that made all of your insecurities scream out loud. 

They were more warm. “Will you be there to see everything sold?” 

“N-no I’ll be dealing with the inventory. I won’t be on stage.” 

Your words made him shrug. “Then I don’t need a seat, come and take a walk with me.” 

Your eyes darted around for your boss, you couldn’t see him anywhere and it put you on edge more than a deer in open season. 

“I still have much to do-“ He took your hand and pulled you with him. 

“Nonsense! C’mon. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together now you’re in charge of all my accounts, we really should get to know each other.”

There was a low outdoor balcony, the doors could close and that’s what he did. He closed the single pane glass doors away from the crowd because it was already getting dark, low amber hues fading into the darkened clouds overhead and everything was losing its sunny shadows to replace them for artificial street lamps and low lighting under trees and bushes. 

The valets worked effortlessly to park up as another car tooks its place and two more men came to help in crisp suits and slicked back hair with a quaint smile to gain the keys and access to a stranger's car. 

“You seem really uncomfortable around him, what he do, shout at you?”

“Who do you mean Mr Gojo?” You knew exactly who. 

“You don’t need to be proper around me. Call me Satoru when we’re alone, it’s fine because we’re going to be working together. And you knowwho I’m talking about.” 

You decided not to abandon your professional client working relationship, but kept it vague for no selfish reason other than it was just plain embarrassing. “Mr Nanami is stressed, he wants this to go well.” 

He chuckled and leant against the balcony to turn to you, the height difference noted. “You can keep telling yourself that, but you aren’t the first person he’s done this too. He runs all you girls ragged, no wonder they all quit. I’m guessing it’s just a matter of time before you do too, though I hope not.” 

He’s done this to more people? 

“How so?” Now you were intrigued. How many others had he done this to and why had no one spoken up about it?

“He usually doesn’t like other people doing things, unless it eats into his overtime, that really pisses him off. So I guess that’s where you suffer. That man seriously needs to get laid, I’m surprised he’s never fucked any of those girls who quit, I know I’d be in a lot of trouble if I was in his position.” 

He sounded genuine, not at all like he was trying to hit on you specifically. It intrigued you how familiar he seemed, like they could have been old friends and it made you die with anticipation for the answer, but it was something that could come later. It was then you realised that you both weren’t on the same page. You only assumed you were, that he was aware of Mr Nanami’s behaviour towards you, but you weren’t. He was going on about something completely different.

“Right…” was all you could say, there wasn’t a point in telling him what your boss did, it wasn’t appropriate either. The best thing was to go to HR. That's all you could do, despite the repercussions from him. And you knew there would be.

“You seem like a nice girl, so I’ll give you this advice for free.” If he wasn’t already serious enough, he was now as his expression dropped from neutral to strained and his hand touched your shoulder so delicately.

“Don’t bend over backwards for him and don’t let him have his way or you’ll be in all kinds of trouble, you’re the best I’ve seen and you’ve lasted the longest. I would hate to see you quit because he’s grumpy.”

You faked a smile, because it was all you could think of to hide the wide eyed shock. “I appreciate that Satoru, I’ll keep that in mind. But don’t worry, I won’t be going anywhere.” 

“That’s good to know!” Thumbs up with a big grin, he nodded you off and turned back to the door. “Good talk, I better go in and see this painting sell. Later!”

It took some time to compose yourself before you wandered back in and prepared to take the backstage to watch everything unfold smoothly. Only there wasn’t anything behind the stage. Nothing at all like it was abandoned. Dark.The curtain was across and the bustle of tables and chairs scraping the floor and footsteps across the stage were clear but no one stood behind. 

Just you. 

“Did you really think I would leave such an important task like that to you when you’re flaunting yourself in front of clients?”

And Mr Kento Nanami.

You didn’t look at him, you didn’t need to. The individual hairs stood up on the back of your neck and every instinct inside you told you to get out, but you had mulled on what Satoru Gojo told you. And you weren’t about to let him have his way and if it was required, you’d treat him like a child to put that point across. 

You weren’t about to let him take advantage. You were so confident. “Mr Nanami-“

“I asked you a question. Can you honestly assume that I would trust you with this, when I can’t trust you to behave around clients?” He was much closer to you now, the negative pressure agonising behind you as you focused on the curtain.   

“I trust you to ‘assume’ I can do my job. Mr Nanami.” 

“There are many people already seated just in front of that curtain. I would suggest you keep your voice down or people might ‘assume’ something else.” 

Part 1 <- Part 2 -> Part 3

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DISCLAIMER - I do not own any of the characters. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

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[snazzynacho]

— Emperor of Time

Chapter 1/?: Vivamus, Moriendum Est / Let Us Live, For We Must Die

Emperor Geta x female oc

Read on ao3. Masterlist. Words: 1.7k. Part 2

Summary: Emperor Publius Septimius Geta somehow time travels to the future. With no way home and no idea how he ended up in a random woman’s living room in—he later works out to be—modern-day Britannia, he is forced to adjust as well as he can. And, maybe the woman talking a funny-sounding-gibberish-language to him, might not be all that bad…The gods have plucked him from his wealthy imperial-born path and plunged him deep into the unknown—a time of the modern world. Will he accept this fate or brutally shove it back into their mocking faces?

Tags/warnings: Gladiator 2 spoilers. She/her pronouns used, time travel, red string of fate, fluff, angst, humour, eventual romance, possible smut, female reader, atheist reader, mental breakdown, suicidal thoughts, implied/referenced past child abuse/abusive father, Christianity/Catholicism hate, British English lessons, Latin lessons, references to ancient Roman religion, mythology and lore. (I am no expert so sorry for Latin language/historical inaccuracies.) No beta we die like Geta.

Geta has always wondered what the gods have planned for him.

Of course, he knows his birth rite is being emperor, albeit grudgingly a Co-emperor, with his mad brother. Yet, he still enjoys the power and wealth that comes with being emperor.

Still, his mind also wonders to the inevitable…his death. How have the gods panned out his life? When will he die? Much to his ego, he always assumed it would be when he is old and has lived a full life as a rich emperor, with a grandiose funeral and many people mourning—the entirety of Rome, he hopes.

But, he never foresees this…

One moment Geta is in the palace and the next he is…nowhere?

His vision goes black. It feels like he’s floating in an endless abyss. It reminds him of when he and his brother Caracalla would go swimming as children. He always loved how freeing it felt to lie flat on his back, letting the ocean guide him away from any troubles that were tormenting him.

But in this case, in this pitch black atmosphere, he feels slightly uneasy. He cannot see a thing. He only senses his heart thumping in his chest and hears his breathing rapidly increase by the second.

His mind takes a moment to comprehend what is happening and soon is full with endless questions.

What is this place?

This is no—dare he says it—Elysium.

Unless, there is no such thing as—

He stops himself. He is in no mood to denounce his religion now.

Geta inhales a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. He tries to take a step forward, but he finds his leg is stiff. He slowly realises his limbs feel as though they weigh a ton.

He attempts to move again. He uses all his strength, groaning at the strain on his body to move. Slowly, he starts to move, gliding through the unknown.

A flicker of light emits in the distance. An exit perhaps? His legs pick up speed, running to, what he hopes to be, safety. As Geta reaches closer to the light, he makes out a field of wheat under a blanket of blue sky—the Elysian fields.

He cannot help but grin. A feeling of warmth and protection grows in his body at the familiarity of it. He will be safe there, even if it means he has died.

His outstretched hand reaches the doorway to Elysium, but just as his finger grazes it, it vanishes before his eyes, plunging him into darkness again. He gasps. Dread fills his body.

No, no, no, no.

Is this all a trick?

Geta grows cold again. His head lowers in shame and he feels tears prick his eyes.

Before he can let them fall, he sees two glowing hands reach out and hold his. He looks up, blinking away the tears so he can clear his blurry vision. Is he seeing what he thinks he is seeing?

The glowing hands belong to a woman, her hair flows all around her as if she is standing in a gentle summer breeze. He cannot make out what colour her hair or robe is, or what shade her skin is.

She glows a white almost blinding light, with a thin orange fire outlining her figure—similar to a flickering candlelight.

Her face is still blurry, with no features to be seen. He blinks again, thinking it is a few tears being stubborn. But he still cannot make out her face.

He does not feel scared though. This great presence is all too calming. He wants to speak, to ask who she is, but he opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He does not know what to say exactly.

“You are not ready yet, my child,” her soothing voice lands in his mind.

His mouth is dry. He goes to speak again, but the same problem arises. She lets go of his hands, cradling his cheeks. Her hands are warm and comforting. He closes his eyes, unable to resist leaning into her touch further. Finally, she places a kiss on his forehead.

Abruptly, she pushes him away gently.

Geta’s body glides backwards fast. Her shining figure becomes smaller and smaller, shrinking in the distance. With his limited information about what is happening, he can only assume this means he's going back home, to the palace in Rome. How will he explain this to anyone?

Suddenly, the atmosphere around him rips. It tears like a piece of paper, revealing a blinding white vision, his eyes burning. His arms wrap around his head, covering his eyes. His eardrums pound as the environment shakes as though he is in the middle of an earthquake and rumbles with incredible volume.

He cowers and moves his arms, trying to also cover his ears from the noise, but it's no use. The deafening sound, unsteady oscillation, rumbling, and, blinding light—it's excruciating.

Geta screams in pain and fear, praying that it ends. The blinding white grows and grows until it swallows him up.

And then, it all goes still…silent.

He opens his eyes, blinking. His ears ring loudly, almost as deafening as the rumbling. He's lying flat on the ground, but not outside. He's inside. But it does not look like a building he recognises.

He rises and is immediately hit with a pounding in his head. His legs wobble but he ably regains stability. He looks around the room. The interior design, from the furniture down to the walls and layout, is completely alien to him.

By the gods, where is he?

He stands there for gods knows how long, contemplating his life and purpose when a presence enters the room, rubbing his temple with a trembling hand.

He turns, meeting his gaze with a young woman. However, she is dressed in the most bizarre clothing—thick blue fabric wrapped tightly around her legs and held together around her waist with a shiny metallic object which looks a bit like a silver coin to him. On her top half, she wears a cloth, loose and light pink with short sleeves, and stitching around the hem. And the most bizarre of all, a contraption that looks like two big round pieces of glass in front of her eyes, that rests on her nose and has two arms reaching behind her ears. It looks like a second pair of eyes, like bug eyes.

They stare at each other in shock for a few long seconds until the woman lets out an ear-piercingly loud scream.

Geta covers his ears quickly, clutching the sides of his head. He glowers from the ringing in his ears and the pounding head he already feels added onto this newfound pain from her screaming.

The scream finally stops but she still looks petrified, as does Geta, probably. He watches her eyes dart frantically around the room, landing on the broom resting against the wall. Her hands reach for it, dropping a small rectangular device from her hand in the action. Geta wants to inspect whatever contraption it is—if he were in a different circumstance, that is. Right now, he believes the best thing to do is to stand completely and utterly still, like a statue. He's afraid of this new environment.

Why have I been sent here?

She jabs the broom close to his torso, like she is wielding a spear. He notes that she is clearly not a gladiatrix, since her angle is off. And her feeble arms are too weak for her to even be considered one. He concludes that she is a very poor fighter.

Still, he looks utterly shocked at her blasphemy. Does she know he is an emperor? Purposefully trying to inflict harm or kill a god-emperor calls for the punishment of death!

She shoos him, continuing to jab the broom in his general direction, but never actually hitting him.

Geta’s eyes snap down at the broom which, from her jabbing motion, has blown dust into his face and, most importantly, his luxurious robes. He coughs, flapping his hands to rid the dust cloud from his face. Once cleared, he tries to brush the dust particles from his robes. A scowl forms on his face. He shouts at her in Latin, his language, but she has no idea what he is saying.

She then yells at him in her language, her frustration evidently reaching the surface. To which he grimaces at her foreign words. A foreigner committing sacrilege against her emperor? How unsurprising, he thinks to himself.

She seems to growl out of exasperation, letting go of the broom. The wooden handle clackers against the hardwood floor.

Suddenly, a loud unrecognisable noise from outside resounds around the room, having flown in through the open window.

His head snaps to the direction of the noise, alert.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her outstretched arm, seemingly trying to stop him, but he's already running to the window. He leans over, holding onto the window sill for leverage, gazing out into the surrounding view—detailing roads, buildings, and other establishments. It is nothing like he has ever seen before.

The noise sounds like it should belong to some sort of animal or beast, but he sees nothing of the sort—only big chariots, all of different colours, which emit smoke and have four black wheels in each corner, driving on the road.

Throughout his life in Rome as Emperor, he held the privilege of being endowed with hundreds of gifts from all over and had been granted the opportunity to travel all around the world, to places where they had occupied new territories—and not once has he ever seen buildings or technology like this. It is mind-boggling.

Where is this place?

Behind him, she grabs her device from the floor where she dropped it. He feels her footsteps thud on the floor, stopping beside him. She stares at him, desperately wanting to know what is going on inside of his head, as does he.

It all becomes too much for Geta. He slowly steps back away from the window, yet his eyes forbid him to look away from the unfamiliar sight outside. His breath quickens as his boundless thoughts race through his dizzying head. He feels as though he is on a different planet, if that is possible. Maybe he can find a soothsayer to help him…anyone…anything.

His head feels weightless, the blood rushing far too rapidly. His stomach churns. His legs grow weak, his body is suddenly too heavy to uphold. His hearing starts to go, unhearing the noise of the funny chariots. His vision goes speckled, black spots appearing, before they swallow him whole. He does not remember falling backwards.

YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS.

A/N: ummm hey yes I am publishing another Gladiator 2 fanfic when I haven't even finished the first one (yet) <3 It’s because I am way too impatient and need to share this with you all NOW. I hope you liked it! Comments are always lovely to read and reblogs are appreciated! :)

Tag list for this fanfic: (comment if you want to be added)

[peachsayshi]

Hey Peach! How are you?

I want to request number 64 (Unexpected kisses that get all hot and heavy) with geto suguru please and thank you 🌸💓

➳  minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

⥽ notes: hello, sweets! thank you so much for sending over this request. I'm sorry it took me some time to write out but I do hope you enjoy this little scenario between geto x reader! I hope you are doing well! tags: non-curse au; geto x reader are "rivals". a little angsty and steamy.

"why do you hate me?" suguru asks, but he's standing far too close to your liking. his pretty boy smile a glow in the shadows, his body closing in as he takes another step forward.

you stutter when you breathe, your chest rising and falling. you place one hand against his heart, feeling it beat as you halt his movements. your eyes shift to the window behind you, watching the rain shower underneath the thunderous applause from clouds above.

there is truly no escaping. a part of you wishing you had left with your group in the morning as intended. but now you're stuck here all by yourself with suguru. with no place to go, and no light to guide you out.

"I don't hate you," you say through gritted teeth, irritation igniting in the depths of your core. you swallow the uncomfortable knot in your throat.

it's a shame that you can't get along with suguru. it's not like you haven't tried, but for whatever reason that man manages to get under your skin in ways you can't even explain. you don't know if it's his infuriating attention to detail, or the fact that he knows what is the right thing to say to send you over the edge.

"you do," he replies, making you catch your breath because he actually sounds disappointed.

two hands come to both sides of your face, his palms pressing against the wall as he looks down at you. a crackle of lighting shatters the sky, illuminating the serious expression on his infuriatingly handsome features.

how did you both end up here after being in a heated argument only a few minutes ago?

"well, you don't like me either," you insist, lifting your head high and turning your chin up proudly.

he taps his thumb against the wall, contemplative. a twitch in his jaw as he takes in your words.

"I never said I didn't like you-"

"of course you did," you bite back, stubborn to believe that these words are true because why else do you both keep getting off on the wrong foot.

"when?"

your brain filters through every memory, every conversation, every exchange to recall any ounce of evidence to validate your statement.

suguru dips his head down, your hand squeezing the fabric of his shirt. so tight your knuckles turn white, and you're ready to push him away. but your spine tingles when you feel him lightly graze his lips over yours, his breath fanning your skin.

"when?" he repeats.

your mind spins, your heart races. you find yourself easing your grip, while Suguru's hand meets your waist.

he must be teasing you, you think. playing a dirty joke. but before you can fight back, he leans in for a kiss, pressing his mouth firmly against yours.

the gesture is soft and kind. so sweet it's like you're eating a spoonful of sugar. he pecks your mouth once, pulls away to give you a second, before returning for another kiss.

waiting, hoping, you'll invite him for more.

and when you do he slides his tongue hungrily, one hand dropping to the curve of your shoulder while the other reaches for your thigh to hook your leg over his hip, keeping you pinned up against the wall.

you rock your hips against him, desperate for friction. and when he returns the gesture it only makes you moan. an explosion erupts from within - engulfing you with a desire that's foreign to your being. there's a clash of lips, teeth and tongue - nips and kisses that make the space between your legs pulse. your hand grips onto his hair, the other curling around his neck.

you don't even want to breathe. you want to keep fighting. keep arguing. and this new form of communication works out nicely for you, you think.

but there's a flicker above, warm light colliding against the cool bolts from the lightning outside. the power returns abruptly, shocking you and suguru when you both stop kissing to stare up at the ceiling.

you're both panting, limbs linked as you remain intertwined in complications that you don't have the time to sift through at the moment.

suguru returns to look at you, licking his lips to taste you once more. he eases his hold, helps readjust your posture as he takes a small step back. his gaze never leaves yours, confusion boiling in his irises. you part your lips to say his name, but instead he cups your cheeks with both palms and leaves one more innocent kiss in his wake.

you are stunned when he drops his hands, a tiny grin a sign of relief.

he hums, "maybe, you don't hate me either..."

your heart is feverish watching him walk away, and for the first time in your life, he manages to leave you speechless.

requests for these prompts are closed.

[call-me-copycat]

Only You

➤ Welcome - Introduction and request rules (requests are open + some info about me)

▶ Characters: Shinso x GN Reader

▶ Genre: Comfort

▶ Summary: You've been feeling a little forgotten, Shinso's popularity bringing in people who take up more of his time. Shinso, however, lets you know that you're far from that.

▶ Word Count: 3134

▶ Warnings: Feelings of insecurity

U.A was the school everyone went to when they dreamed big. It was easy to do such a thing in such a large, colorful world. One of the biggest things a person could dream of was being a hero, a dream everyone possibly held at one point. Over time, as one grew they realized that that's all it was - a dream. And so, it was dropped.

You admired Hitoshi since day 1. He quickly proved that he wasn't like the others, putting up with all negative allegations thrown at him and continuing to push forward towards that dream he held so close to his heart. You liked to say that heart was made of gold.

It was at the entrance exam that you noticed him, standing slightly aways from the large group crowding the doors. Back then, he seemed just like another face in the crowd. But you kept running into him. Over and over. You saw how frustrated he became, how unfair the exam was towards those without physical quirks. You worked up the courage and talked to him after the exam was over, something you didn't regret doing despite the hushed whispers that would go on around you two.

It was just you and him. Versus the world.

It used to be so simple. He got into the General Course, you in the Hero Course. Still, you continued pushing and pushing him - something you didn't even have to do much of seeing as his drive to become a hero was a burning flame of passion that flared with an intensity that'd put others to shame.

You and him.

School was the only time you used to see him, and that eventually morphed into going to his house to study every now and then. Then, to taking casual walks to the corner store. All the way to you both taking daily bike rides together, and at that point it had gotten where you both couldn't go a single day without seeing each other.

You both matched each other perfectly when it came to passion. His passion to achieve, and yours to support and love almost mirrored each other. It was one of the reasons why he showed up on your door step one night, his face red as he pushed a single rose into your hands.

You both kept at it, and when two passionate souls get together to achieve something it's only bound to go one way.

And... He did it. He made it to the Hero Course. Class of 2-A, with a new seat right next to yours.

But...

You couldn't help but feel that things weren't going as planned. You thought it would be seamless, he'd go into the Hero Course and would just be another student as all the others.

You had forgotten just how popular the Hero Course was.

It was natural for him to garner attention. He had the looks and the charmingly grumpy personality, and paired with that burning passion that Hero Course students seem to love it made sense that he'd be seen as 'the perfect hero student'.

Suddenly it wasn't just you and him.

People greeted him in the halls, people invited him to lunch, people asked him to come to their houses. They were invading your space, and you couldn't go anywhere without seeing at least one person trying to befriend him.

It began to drive you mad. Of course you weren't entirely against the fact that people liked him now. But... Where were you in this equation? With so many new faces, would he discover other people he liked better? What if he got tired of you?

Thoughts like these plagued your mind daily. You couldn't help but tighten the grip you had on your bag as you reminisced on the beginning of your first year. Where were these people then?

"Hey. "

You jumped a bit at the sudden hand Hitoshi placed on your shoulder. It was the end of the school day, and you both were walking down the empty halls (hopefully without interruption).

As you looked up at him, he couldn't help but feel something was off about you. Your demeanor just wasn't the same, it hadn't been for the past few days - something only he could tell.

"Everything alright?" His tone was soft, a stark contrast from how he normally greets others.

You turned your full attention onto him. His bag was left a little ways open, one of his shoes were untied, and his hair was ruffled in its usual messy stance. You could only think of how much you cherished him in that moment. There didn't seem to be a way you could confess your worries without coming off as greedy.

"I... I'm sorry if this comes off as a little selfish, but..." Sighing, you could only try to piece together how you'd word this. In response to your furrowed expression, Hitoshi gingerly went up and brought his arms around you. He wasn't one prone to outwardly showing affection much, but he felt this moment was an exception.

He ran his fingers gently through your locks of hair as he sensed you were getting worked up, and frowned at the thought. Selfish? You were the light in his life, the cheerleader he never knew he needed. You were the furthest from it.

"Nothing you can say will convince me that you're selfish, I'm serious." He kissed the top of your head. "You can tell me anything, what's on your mind?"

You squeezed him a little before pushing yourself away from him so you can focus a little better. It was hard, and you turned to picking at your fingers as you tried explaining yourself. With your attention directed to the ground, you started.

"I...I- We've been together for awhile, haven't we?" Thinking back to all you've been through with him, you began going through it all with a deep fondness. "I remember meeting you at the entrance exam, and I remember the moment you were told you had gotten into UA... And how happy you and I both were", you sighed a bit, remembering every detail.

The anxiety that you both felt the weeks after the entrance exam. The excitement at the announcement of you both getting into UA together. The consolation after it was decided he'd be in General Studies and you in the Hero Course.

"I remember how upset you were when you didn't place the Hero Course. I knew you had the strength though, and that's why I always cheered you on. You know that I was always by your side, right?"

He placed a finger on your chin as he brought your head up so he could face you, not liking the sad expression on your face.

"Of course I know that - you've been by my side since day one. And for that I can never thank you enough for all that support. I- ", he looked away for a split second, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts. When he looked back at you, his dark indigo eyes were filled with warmth as he gazed at you lovingly.

"I don't think I'd have gotten this far without you. "

It was touching, to realize just how much Hitoshi remembered. For him to be able to recall everything you've done all in his name so fast only meant that it had a lasting impact on him. And with that, your heart swelled a little more.

Giving him a wobbly smile, you felt your eyes water a bit before you blinked them back to normal.

"And I'd do it all again, too. But, now that you've transferred to the hero course, I can't help but feel that everyone's starting to notice you and your dedication," It sounded so bad when put into words, and you could only attempt to hide yourself by covering your face with your hands.

"I- it's just that..." Sighing once again, you tried your best to recollect your thoughts. "You've come so far... And I feel that there's so many people noticing you. So many people that only care about those that make it far, but don't care about those at the bottom. Those very people that I'm worried about trying to overturn me..."

Your body tensed at the thought. The contrast between now and then made it all feel as though everything good given was artificial, that no one really truly cared.

And then, there were those that do. Would you even be able to compete with them either?

Clenching your fists in frustration, your vision dropped to the ground as your eyes began to water. "You mean so much to me. So much so, that I can't help but feel - but worry - about... Being forgotten."

With your view on the ground you stop fretting about worrying Hitoshi and let your body go lax as tears dot your face. "A-and I can't help but believe that you're going to find comfort in someone else... That you're going to move onto greater things..."

"...And forget that I was always here."

Shock.

Guilt.

Sympathy.

And so much more suddenly flooded Hitoshi's head as he saw you completely drop every worry you've held on to, on top of him. You've always been such a strong-willed person, so to see you've been worrying about so much for so long shook him to his core.

Hesitantly, gently, he pried your hands away from your face so he could hold you close as he did earlier. Pulling you into a tight embrace, he buried his face in your neck as his own eyes started to water.

"I know that becoming a hero has its issues, this is one of many. To start," Breathing a heavy breath, Hitoshi quickly formed a list in his head.

"I will never find comfort in someone else. I don’t ever want to find comfort in someone else because they won’t be you." It was a maddening thought.

Hitoshi was... Picky.

Most people were too loud. Too bright. Too much, too little, too far, too late. They were either one thing or another, and that's why he consistently struggled to make friends growing up. You however, were perfect.

You fit him, matched his pace. He didn't believe there'd ever be another person on the planet to conveniently check off every single box he had on his list the way you did. Alongside that, he was a simple man. He found you, you found him. Why look for someone else when he was perfectly happy with you now?

Why trade in a phone when the one he had worked fine? Why toss out an old blanket and get a new one when it warms him the way it should? He never understood those types of people, it was too much work to do such things - not to mention shallow.

Before you could get a word in, he was at it again.

"Two; I will never leave you behind. I will never forget you. No matter how far I go, I will always remember you." You always thought of him when he needed it, always kept on pushing him forward despite making it into the Hero Course yourself. You had everything, and could have left him behind. Yet, you didn't. Even if you did, Hitoshi believed he'd easily let you back in - he was just too attached.

It was sweet of him to already have a way to reassure you. He was persistent, one of the many reasons he got so far after all. It helped, hearing your partner himself console you. But the voices in your head wouldn't budge, constantly conjuring up worries and aches you couldn't escape.

Sniffling a bit, you gingerly wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into his touch.

"I-I know... I can tell how much you care for me though everything you do," the air was heavy as you paused. "I just... can't help but worry anyway. I'm always worried. There are so, so many other people that like you, that want to be close with you... It hurts a little at all the things that could happen in the future."

In response, Hitoshi brought a hand up to the back of your head, gently cradling it as he ran his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

"You're right. "

You could only move your head away and look up at him in shock, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

"It's only to be expected that I'm going to meet many new people on this path that I'm taking. I might even make some new friends," looking down at you, he gave you a smile filled with warmth and love. "But no matter how many new people I meet, none of them will ever mean as much to me as you do. "

You moved your head back down to rest in his chest after the initial shock wore off. His words were more than reassuring, they were loving. But... The pain always lingered.

"I just can't help but wonder how much you'll love me in the future, after meeting so many new people... And wonder how much you even love me now..." You felt a little hazy at the thought, your mind not working as well as it normally did at that moment.

Tightening his the grip around you for a moment, Hitoshi pulled away slightly so he could look at you properly, gently putting a finger under your chin so you'd look at him properly.

"How much do I love you...?"

He repeated your words in a soft tone, his dark indigo eyes never leaving yours.

"How much do I love you, you ask? I don’t think words could describe how much I love you..."

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, taking a deep breath to control his swirling emotions, seemingly creating an inferno inside of his mind.

"You're... You're my first love, the first one I've ever fallen in love with. My-"

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat in an attempt to keep himself from getting too emotional, Hitoshi opened his eyes once again, everything suddenly clear to him.

"My most precious person."

The air was silent between the two of you for a beat, as all you could do was look up at him in admiration. The bond you both held was special, as it developed and grew over time. And bonds formed that way are normally one of the strongest.

"I-"

He put a finger over your lips, effectively silencing you.

"Let me speak. "

You watched as he took a deep breath, looking almost frazzled. It was odd, as Hitoshi was typically one of the best to keep his cool. Seeing him work himself up so much over you simply confessing your worries to him... Words evaded you.

"I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again. You are the most precious person to me. I-"

He let out a small sigh as all the things he’s been keeping inside for too long suddenly poured out, also taking advantage of this moment to truly show you everything he ever felt for you.

Hitoshi was a cold guy on the outside. He kept people away, kept friendships shallow at most - all for the sake of his safety. Bullies tainted his idea of relationships of all shapes and sizes, so he naturally kept himself closed off.

But, you. You were here, and you were in need of consolation. He didn't ever learn how to express himself properly. All he knew was that he loved you, and that he needed to let you know how much he did. Even if he struggled.

"I love you so so much. I-"

He took a deep breath to calm himself down. There was so much he wanted to say, yet at the same time he was at a loss for words.

"No matter where I go, or what happens to me, nothing-" He brought his hands down to grab yours, giving them a quick squeeze, "and I mean absolutely nothing will ever make me stop loving you."

It was hard. Watching him tear himself up so much about your worries. But, he cared. He cared so much. And that was all that mattered to you.

"I may not be a very affectionate person... I know I’m not always there when you need me, and-"

Sensing he was working himself up too much, you took initiative and moved your hands to cup his cheeks. Both your eyes meet, and in between you two, hundreds of unspoken words bounce in the air.

Leaning into your soft touch, Hitoshi brought his hands up and gently wrapped them over yours, relishing the feeling of his skin touching yours. Even in the smallest actions you made him feel so loved. He gazed at you without word, letting all his emotions be conveyed in that look. Love, affection, assurance, protection, and all sorts of emotions that he couldn't quite word.

Hitoshi leaned down just a touch and pressed a soft kiss against your forehead, closing his eyes as he took in the feeling of your warm skin against his lips.

"Nothing and no one can make me stop loving you."

The idea of leaving you behind, and letting some stranger take hold of you almost made his emotions flip 180°. It was such a nauseating thought to him, he cherished you so dearly and fully believed that there wasn't a soul that deserved you in the same way. You both did everything together, both did everything for each other, fit together like puzzle pieces.

"I won’t let anyone take you from me. Especially not some person who doesn’t even-" heaving out a heavy breath, he cut himself off in an attempt to not bring down the mood once more. Neither of you needed that.

It was odd to think about. So odd. Hitoshi also worried the same thing about you in the end as well. He never seemed to show any signs of worry. Never seemed to falter in confidence. Yet, here the two of you were. Sitting and worrying, loving each other too much and hurting yourselves over what might happen.

Suddenly, you felt a little less lonely.

"I-" you grabbed his hands in yours as you stepped back just enough to see his face. "I've been supporting you since day 1. And I intend to continue doing so until the very end." Looking up into his eyes, he smiled a little at the newfound sparkle yours had.

Squeezing his hands in yours, Hitoshi chucked.

"I know. I know you will."

@hitoshisbf

Thank you so much for the request! I'm very sorry for the wait, but I hope this suits your request! I started it on your ask, but I made the mistake of saving it to drafts and in turn it disappeared ( ⌯᷄ ·̫ ⌯᷅ก )

I had to start over in the morning, I apologize for the extra delay (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

If you ever want to request again I'll always be here! Wishing you the best, hope you have a lovely day! ( ˶'ᵕ'˶)و.ᐟ.ᐟ

[ticklygiggles]

Ten minutes in heaven | Wrioney [n$fw]

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY IN THE AFTERNOON WONDERFUL FABI @lovelynim! I hope you enjoy this little gift! It's my first time working Wrioney, I hope I made them justice and you like this! I LOVE YOU ❤️

Summary: Wriothesley not only stood him up, but also ghosted him. It's only Lyney is so mad. 

Words: 2k+

“Sigewinne, let me out! I'm not kidding!” 

“Nope.” The sweet voice came from outside. “I'm tired of listening to you both bickering, so you'll both stay there until you reconcile.” They couldn't see her, but Sigewinne nodded, proud of herself. “Or else you won't get out. I'll be back in ten minutes.”

00:01:00

Lyney whined, pressing his forehead against the wooden door. If he had known that his visit to the Fortress of Meripide would end with him locked in that small closet with the person he least wanted to be around at that moment– well, he wouldn't have gone in the first place.

Besides, he had only gone for one reason: he wanted to fight. He wanted to argue with the administrator of the place, also called Wriothesley, also called his boyfriend. Turning his head slightly, he looked at Wriothesley standing behind him, arms crossed above his broad chest, with his imposing stature and his warm eyes fixed on Lyney. Lyney frowned, also crossing his arms and leaning his back against the door. Wriothesley chuckled and a deep blush spread across his cheeks from pure anger; he bared his fangs in a snarl, glaring at the other man. 

“What?!” 

Wriothesley shook his head softly, “are you really that mad at me, kitten?” 

Somehow, Lyney felt heat radiating from his vision, he was ready to attack at any second. “Don't call me that! I hate you so much, get me out!” 

Wriothesley chuckled again, shrugging his shoulders. “I can't. Sigewinne has the key and I'm not planning on destroying my office.”

“Hmph!”

00:02:07

Lyney couldn't decipher the emotion in Wriothesley's eyes. Something between sadness and tenderness and shame and love– he couldn't stand looking at him anymore and he closed his eyes, turning his head. 

“Listen, kitten-” 

“Don't call me that.”

“Lyney, I'm truly sorry about what I did,” Wriothesley said, gently touching Lyney’s elbow, but the magician jerked away. “You know my work here is not easy, I truly wanted to be there on time, but then Neuvillette came by and I had to take care of some stuff and-”

“It's not just that!” 

Lyney hated that he felt his eyes tearing up. He was used to Wriothesley's rudeness, but knew it was not on purpose. It was true that his job wasn't exactly an easy one, and Lyney forgave every time Wriothesley missed one of their dates or arrived ridiculously late, because he understood, he really did. But just because he knew that Wriothesley's job kept him busy most of the time, Lyney made sure to invite him to a super important show he was having months in advance, and he made sure to remind Wriothesley every single week, every single day and he promised so sure of himself that he was going to be there. 

But of course, he wasn't, but the worst thing was that it had been two weeks since that day and Lyney had heard absolutely nothing from Wriothesley in all that time! He even thought that something bad had happened to him, but what was his surprise when he found him stuck in his office; when their eyes met, Wriothesley didn't even seem surprised to see Lyney and greeted him as he normally did. Wasn't that too much?! 

“I can't believe you treated me like that. And you know it's not only about you not coming to see my show, but you just not reaching me in two whole weeks! Do you know how worried I was?!” 

“I'm so sorry, I really have no excuse for that,” Wriothesley said sincerely, scratching the back of his head. “I thought you'd be really angry with me, so I wanted to give you your space, but… I think I messed up even more.”

“Yes you did!” Lyney wiped the tears from his cheeks angrily, and taking a single step forward, he encountered Wriothesley's body and punched him in the chest. “I felt so bad! I thought you didn't want to see me anymore! You're so stupid, Wriothesley!” 

Perfect, now he was really crying. Lyney whined and growled when Wriothesley suddenly hugged him, pressing him tightly against his chest. He struggled, trying to break free from the embrace, he didn't want to be comforted, he wanted Wriothesley to know that he had made him feel terribly bad! 

“I'm truly sorry, Lyney,” Wriothesley said softly, his deep voice against Lyney's ear making him shiver. “I was just careless and stupid. I truly wanted to go see you, but I didn't dare– I didn't know how to face you and what to say to you after promising for months that I would be there. I'm sorry, kitten.” 

Lyney pressed his face against Wriothesley’s chest and cried. The last two weeks had been hell for him. Had Wriothesley stopped loving him? Had he missed Lyney's show because he never  wanted to see him again? Worse yet, had something happened to him? Did he get into an accident when he was on his way to the show? A thousand and one thoughts ran through his mind, they didn't let him sleep, eat, and sometimes even breathe. He was afraid to go to the Fortress of Meripide because he didn't want to know if something bad happened to Wriothesley, but in the end he did and to find him there… just working. 

“I was scared! I hate you so much, Wriothesley!” 

That was a lie, of course he didn't hate him, on the contrary, the only reason he was there was because he loved him desperately. His heart longed to see him safe and sound, he wanted to be in Wriothesley's arms again and hear his voice. Lyney just couldn't hate him because he loved him too much. 

Wriothesley gently cupped his flushed, wet cheeks, his thumbs gently rubbing under his eyes to wipe the falling tears away. He pressed a tender kiss to Lyney’s forehead, then his nose and the corner of his mouth before pressing their foreheads together. 

“Please forgive me, Lyney. Just this once. I promise I'll do better.” 

Lyney whined, his eyes crossing a little as he tried to look at Wriothesley’s. “I just want you to let me know you won't come and if you're okay! I understand about your stupid job!” 

Wriothesley chuckled and Lyney couldn't help but smile, gently hitting his arm. “You are so stupid!” 

00:04:45

Wriothesley nodded, “I am. I missed you very much, kitten.” 

Lyney pouted and with a smile, Wriothesley kissed his lips. A small, chaste kiss that made Lyney feel butterflies, but a small kiss like that wasn't enough for the two weeks they hadn't seen each other. Lyney wrapped his arms around Wriothesley's waist and brought him close to him, his tongue pushing between the other's lips, making him gasp into Lyney's mouth. Wriothesley grabbed the back of Lyney's head, tilting his head back slightly so he could kiss him better. A war broke out within their mouths; gasps and soft moans escaped their lips as they hungrily devoured each other. 

Lyney felt light-headed, breathless. His heart was beating fast, bouncing within his chest. He had missed Wriothesley's passionate kisses so much, his strong hands holding his face, the warmth of his body against him. He had missed it so much. He opened one of his eyes, his sight slightly blurry with tears; Wriothesley's expression was a sight to behold… but why was he looking so happy after the torture he made Lyney go through? He had forgiven him, but would he get out of this without being punished? Of course not! 

Lyney tapped his fingers against Wriothesley’s waist, between those fierce kisses, Wriothesley barely noticed the light touch on his waist, but it was very different when Lyney pressed that super sensitive spot just above Wriothesley's hips. 

00:05:37

Wriothesley gasped, quickly pulling apart and grabbing Lyney's shoulders to push him away. “What are you- ngh!” His words got stuck in his throat, Lyney was smirking widely.

“What? Did you really think I won't punish you? Silly Duke.” 

Wriothesley opened his mouth to say something else, but Lyney pressed against him, cornering him against the wall as his light fingers clawed at Wriothesley’s hips, making him jump and break into loud laughter. He arched his back, but Lyney simply pressed against him tighter, one of his legs between Wriothesley's. He always found it funny how a big guy like Wriothesley became almost useless when tickled; even someone small like Lyney could manhandle him a bit like this. 

Wriothesley's hands tried to push Lyney away, but when his nimble fingers moved under his arms, Wriothesley pressed his arms to his sides, laughing brightly. He squirmed and begged between gasps and laughs and squeals for Lyney to stop, but his pleas fell in deaf ears. 

“Ah, so your armpits are still really ticklish, hmm? What about here?” 

“N-NoHOho! K-KihiHIhitten, plehehease!” 

Snorty giggles left his mouth when Lyney started to wiggle his fingers against the sides of his neck, a sweet spot the magician especially loved. It made Wriothesley so desperate, his laughter panicking and his squirming intensifying. It seemed completely torturous to him and Lyney couldn't help but feel a little sadistic seeing Wriothesley's state. He was flushing already, even crying as he mercilessly tickled his neck and- oh? 

00:06:40

“You are disgusting, Wriothesley. Why are you grinding against my thigh? Ah, I see, you liked your tickles too much?” 

Wriothesley shook his head, going crazy with the tickling on his neck. His hands lacked the strength to push Lyney's fingers away, and Lyney laughed.

“S-Stohop, PLEHEASE, I- NGH!”

“You don't want me to stop,” Lyney purred, the maddening tickling stopping so he could palm Wriothesley's hardening cock above his clothes. “You're not supposed to enjoy your punishments, Wriothesley.” Lyney wrapped the red tie around his hand and pulled at it, bringing Wriothesley’s face close to his. “I really should show you how pissed I am with you, hmm?” 

“K-Kitten,” Wriothesley gulped, his teary eyes blinking and trying to find a way out. Lyney smirked. “I s-said I'm sorry. And you said… you forgave me.” 

Lyney shrugged, “and I did, but you need to learn your lesson. Do not mess with me again, Wriothesley.” 

Wriothesley gasped when Lyney suddenly dropped on his knees in front of him, his fingers hooking on the waistband of his pants and the elastic of his underwear and pulled them down to his knees at once. Wriothesley whimpered and he tried to cover his half hard dick, but Lyney slapped his big hands away and took Wriothesley’s cock between his smaller hands. 

His cock wasn't even half its usual size, but Lyney knew what to do. He lifted the cock with one hand and his tongue traced a warm, wet path of saliva from Wriothesley's balls to the tip. Wriothesley's legs shook and he pressed a hand against his mouth to keep from making a sound. Lyney laughed, closing his mouth around the tip and circling with his tongue. The salty taste of precum exploded in his mouth as his hand moved up and down slowly, stroking the growing length. 

“L-Lyney,” he moaned, his voice muffled behind his hand. 

“There we go,” Lyney said, pulling the cock out of his mouth with a pop and it kept up, moist and dripping. “That was fast, huh? Were you pent up? Did you miss me during these two weeks? You just wanted to fuck me, right?” He slapped the tip of Wriothesley's cock and he trembled, a deep moan leaving his mouth. 

“I- I didn't only miss f-fucking you, I-”

“You didn't? I don't believe you,” Lyney said with a shrug, his hand wrapping around Wriothesley's cock again, stroking him fast. “I think you just wanted to put this thing on my butt all these days.” 

Wriothesley shook his head, grunting and moaning, his hips circling and thrusting. Lyney smirked, oh his poor Wriothesley was so close to cum. He really was pent up, hmm? What a shame~

00:08:59

“No you can't.” Lyney stopped, his hands moving away, and Wriothesley cried, clenching his dick as trying to reach his peak, but it was useless. 

“H-Huh?! W-Why not?!”

Lyney pouted, looking at Wriothesley's cock as the tip of his finger tapped against the wet head, making it twitch. “It's frustrating right?” Lyney pressed a kiss to the tip and looked up at Wriothesley. “That's how you make me feel, Wrio. So. Frustrated.” 

Lyney stuck his tongue out and licked the salty precum before pushing the whole length into his mouth. Wriothesley was huge, but Lyney wasn't scared of it anymore, rather he was hungry. Wriothesley moaned loudly, his hands moving to grip at Lyney's hair. The magician frowned and slapped at the hands, pushing them away from him as he started to bobble his head, sucking Wriothesley. One of his hands gripped Wriothesley's thighs to keep his balance while the other started to tickle his balls.

Wriothesley gasped. “Nngh! H-Hold on! Hold ohohon! D-dohon't tickle me t-tohoo!”

He squirmed and Lyney frowned, pressing his hand against Wriothesley's hip to keep him in place. 

“L-Lyney… ah! Ah! I'm c-cumming. I'm- 

“Phaw!” 

00:09:15

“N-No, please! Le-Let me cum, please. Please!” Tears of despair fell down Wriothesley's cheeks. Oh, Lyney loved seeing him so desperate. He smiled angelically. 

“Ow, you wanted to cum, Wrio? I'm so sorry, I had no idea!” Lyney raised, placing Wriothesley's cock between his legs, making him hiss. “You really wanted to cum?” He whispered against Wriothesley's lips and he nodded desperately. “I really wanted to see you these two weeks.” 

Wriothesley whined, “I'm sorry, Lyney. I'm s-sorry- anh!” 

Lyney began to move his hips, squeezing Wriothesley's cock between his thighs. The duke moaned, his eyes crossing. Lyney smirked, his fingers flicking Wriothesley's hardened nipples over his suit. “Are you feeling well, your excellency?” Wriothesley shuddered, nodding as his breathing became erratic. He was close again. “Oh no, his excellency is going to cum, does he deserve it?” 

“Yes! Yes, please don't stop, please, I-”

00:10:03

“I am back! Are you guys reconciled?” 

Wriothesley gasped and Lyney giggled when he pressed him tightly against him, but he pulled away, leaving his cock twitching with yet another ruined orgasm. 

“What a shame, you were so close, Wriothesley,” he whispered, shrugging and winking at him before turning around. “We're ready, Sigewinne, we're good again.”

“Great! Then I'll open the door.” Lyney heard the key turning in the bolt and the padlock opening, Sigewinne's small hand closed around the knob and she turned it, trying to open it. ‘'Huh?! Why can't I open it?!” 

A wide smile appeared on Lyney's face as a hand pressed against the door, right next to his head.

“Sorry, Sigewinne,” Wriothesley said, his voice strained. “We still… need to talk.”

“Ah I see,” Sigewinne said, leaving the knob. “Then I'll let you to it then. I'll be back in another ten minutes!” 

They both heard small footsteps walking away and then the office door opening and closing. Lyney laughed softly. 

“Do you need something, Wrio?” 

00:01:01

“Yes and we have ten minutes for it.” Lyney gasped when Wriothesley pulled his shorts and underwear down, freeing his hard cock. A finger touched his butthole and he whimpered, holding onto the door. “Let's see how much you missed me, Kitten.” 

Lyney purred. “I wonder~” 

Lyney wondered if ten minutes would be enough to satisfy Wriothesley… and himself after being away for two whole weeks. Ah, make-up sex was always the best.

[simplybakugou]

Story Mode | Mystic Academia: Kaminari Denki's Route

⋆ PAIRING: gamer/streamer!kaminari x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: slight violence and danger; mentions of blood; swearing ⋆ WORD COUNT: 788

A/N: the first written story mode! hehe it’s inspired by yoosung’s route but i did my best to make it my own :)

NOTE: credits to @eraserhead-transparents for the kaminari cap and this part was inspired by day 10 of yoosung's route

Mystic Academia: Kaminari Denki's Route Masterlist

“Dude, are you sure we’re going the right way?” Kaminari whispered, crouching as Sero had instructed him to do in order to avoid being caught on any of the secret base’s security cameras.

“Yeah,” Sero answered plainly, studying his handwritten blueprint of the base as he moved ever so quietly. “I’ve got everything marked down on here and there should be a back door around here…”

“It’s right there!” Kaminari gestured to the closed door just ahead of the pair. “Wait what if it’s locked?”

“You think a locked door is gonna be a problem for me?” Sero asked as they approached the door, turning the door handle to confirm it was in fact locked. He began picking the lock, which he did so with ease. He swung the door ajar slightly, confirming his confidence in his skills.

“You’re right. My bad,” Kaminari said with a firm nod. They peered into the room, which appeared to be empty except for a few black crates that were nailed shut. The boys entered the room, Sero closing the door behind them. Another door was in front of them and Sero repeated his actions and opened it slightly, peering inside carefully.

Kaminari leaned over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse. “Well is there anybody there?”

“Dude, we’re trying to be discreet,” Sero whispered to his friend, bringing a finger to his lips to remind Kaminari of the reason why they were there. Sero opened the door. “Looks like no one’s here.”

It was a small room with grey walls. Only a chair and a desk with multiple computer screens and monitors was present. 

“Whoa looks like your place,” Kaminari commented, eyes widened at the amount of screens before him.

Sero immediately began to start working, sitting himself down at the chair and connecting a USB drive to the server. 

“Are you copying all of the data now?” Kaminari questioned, clearly out of his league and element with this area of work.

“Yup. Once it’s done downloading it’ll wipe the servers completely,” Sero says, typing away at the keyboard in front of the main computer screen. “These losers won’t see it coming.”

“Won’t we now?” A voice erupted from behind Kaminari and Sero.

They whipped their heads to the source of the voice, Kaminari stepping away from the mysterious man. He was in all black with a hood covering his head. His scarlet eyes were piercing as they looked back and forth between Sero and Kaminari. He had a small amused smile on his face, his arms behind his back.

Sero stood up, blocking the USB drive. He had to ensure that they got away with this vital information. He was risking his life for it.

“Who the hell are you?” Sero questioned.

“Aw come on now. No need to be so rude,” Unknown chuckled humorlessly. “I should be asking that since you two broke into my facility.”

“We know you already know who we are,” Kaminari stated plainly. “Isn’t that why you went after our friends?”

“Oh, so the event coordinator is just a friend to you?” Unknown laughed.

Kaminari and Sero were taken aback. The only way for this mysterious man to have known about Kaminari’s feelings for Y/N was if…

“You’ve been reading our messages?!” Sero exclaimed in disbelief.

“Of course.” Unknown shrugged. “I mean I did trap your beloved coordinator in the office after all. Hacking into your chat rooms was nothing.”

His eyes flicked over to Kaminari. Unknown took in his figure, continuing to chuckle amusingly. “It’d be a shame if anything happened to you, Kaminari Denki. I was looking forward to your little love story. But it looks like the MFA love story will have to come to an end.”

Kaminari grabbed the drive from the server behind him and tossed it to Sero. “Run! Get outta here!”

“What?!” Sero exclaimed, catching the drive and looking at his friend as if he were a madman. Sero had no intention of leaving the base without Kaminari. 

“Just go! We got the drive!” Kaminari pushed Sero towards the exit doors. 

Unknown let go of his arms from behind his back, his hand clutching a knife as he lunged forward, a menacing grin on his face as he swung at Kaminari. He pierced Kaminari’s arm with the knife as Kaminari grabbed the chair and pushed it towards Unknown, knocking Unknown back to the floor.

Kaminari winced in pain, clutching his forearm that was gushing blood. But the adrenaline had kicked in and Kaminari couldn’t focus on the pain as he sprinted for the door, his blood dripping in splats onto the floors.

Unknown’s maniacal laughter echoed through the walls. “We’ll get you! You’ll join Paradise soon enough!”

JOIN THE TAGLIST

[frostsinth]

Dark Side - Pt. 4

Masterlist | Part 1|2|3

Life has been getting in the way a lot. You know the drill, exhaustion from work, exhaustion at home. Leaves me doom scrolling reels instead of trying to find creative mojo in my two hours of freedom each night.

Have another little snippet. Sorry these are so short, it's going to make the story lengthy. Comments and reblogs give me life. And gods forgive me that I heard a song that gave me an idea for another story but I will finish this one first if it kills me.

------

Though covered by another sheet, the bed smelled a bit dusty. It made my skin itch despite the fine material. And the old mansion made a plethora of sounds, shifting in the wind throughout the night. Though by the time I took to the bed, it was probably early morning at any rate. It would be generous to say I slept fitfully; in reality I wasn’t sure if I slept at all. A fact that I was made acutely aware of by the heaviness of my eyes as the morning light returned. Making the shadows thin and trace back across the floorboards. I had left the sole large, smudged glass window uncovered to better track the time. Now, with the weight of my sleepless night and the dusty remnants of the sheets clinging to my skin, I felt as if I had become a part of the manor. As if the old building had a little magic of its own. The kind that seeped over you slowly, pinning you down until all concept of time and space dissipated and you grew cobwebs in its abandoned corners.

The creak of the door a few hours after sunrise had me nearly jumping out of my skin, bringing me back to life and out of my weighty, swirling thoughts. I flung the old sheets off and had my bare feet on the floor before Hector was halfway through the main door. He scowled at me as our eyes met across the rooms, dropping the covered silver tray on the small table with a clatter.

“Breakfast.” He told me. I decided his voice sounded like a permanent hiss of steam.

“Poisoned?” I asked, coming around to the archway with my bare arms half crossed over my chest to ward off the morning chill.

He cocked a brow at me, his lips pursing. “Tempting though it was, I managed to resist.”

“Shame.”

His scowl deepened. “I am not sure why his Lordship insists on your presence in these halls, but while you are here you will maintain a modicum of decorum.”

“Can’t say I know the meaning of the word.” I mused.

“There are rules.” He replied, his tones dark. “I expect you to keep them.” He adjusted his cuffs and straightened his vest. He didn’t wait for my response before ticking them off. “You will bring your concerns and needs to me to address. You will never enter a room closed to you, even if the door is open. You will not leave your rooms after dark unless summoned-”

“Oh you must be joking.” I muttered.

The manservant’s scowl grew even more severe, burrowing deep lines into his thin features. “You will knock twice before entering any room.” He continued. “If there is no answer, you will wait a minute before entering. However, if his Lordship knocks, you will answer. Immediately. If he does not, you wait. His tower is completely off-limits to you. If I even see you near them, I will make sure you find the same hospitality as your first stay here.” I resisted rolling my eyes, and his narrowed as he continued. “You will never touch his Lordship or address his Lordship by his first name. You will never eat or drink off his Lordship’s plate. And, most importantly-” He took a startling sharp step forward, fully bringing my attention to him “-You will never touch the pendant. Do I make myself clear?”

Though thin and spindly, Hector was a tall man, and he used his greater height to tower over me now. I studied him for a moment, leery of any response. Feeling my hackles raised and my heart racing in my breast.

A light knock at the doorframe had me jumping a bit.

“Am I interrupting something?” Thaddeus asked, tucking his hands into the small of his back once more.

“Of course not, my Lord,” Hector replied, still fixing me with a sharp eye for a moment more before he turned to address the noble, “Deepest apologies, is something amiss? Was your morning meal unsatisfactory? I can speak to the cook before he leaves for the day.”

Thaddeus waved his concerns away. “I simply thought to dine with Miss Cora this morning.” Dark eyes flicked to me. “If she is willing.”

My heart skipped a bit at the passing glance. I thought I saw Hector’s face grow even darker with the suggestion, though he had cleared the worst of the clouds by the time the young noble looked back at him.

“I fear that would be… inappropriate, my Lord.” Hector intoned in an almost hissing drawl.

Thaddeus offered a tiny nod, dropping his gaze to the floorboards. “Perhaps under normal circumstances. However, I feel needs must in this case.”

“Don’t do me any favors.” I put in dryly, which had those dark eyes flicking back up to me.

The noble considered that for a moment before speaking. “We have matters to discuss. I would believe them in need of hasty resolution.” He glanced over at Hector. “The sooner they are resolved, the sooner we might return to our usual status quo.”

The servant seemed satisfied with the offering, though reluctantly so. He cast me a sour look, then walked over to pick back up the tray.

“I shall bring your meals to the sitting room.” He asserted, offering the young noble a tiny bow on his way out.

“You must forgive Hector,” Thaddeus said to me once we were alone again, “He is set in the old ways of regency, and fairly protective of me.”

“Aggressively protective.” I mused, rubbing my bare arm with one hand.

His dark eyes flicked over me again at the movement. “I’ll have him commission some clothing items for you.” He informed me. “I am certain you would be eager to have fresh garments.”

I gave a tiny shrug. “I’m comfortable in this.”

“Your stay is indefinite,” He reminded me, “I must insist.”

“All the better to match your ‘status quo’?” I asked, cocking a brow at him.

He fixed me with a steady gaze, causing my heart to skip again. “I do not know what the future holds for us, Miss Cora, or what the past once held for you. But I find myself of the mind that we shall have to find a new modal now.” He paused, shifting his weight slightly from one foot to the other. “… I apologize for how we left things last night.”

“I poked at a sensitive topic.” I reasoned, my mind spinning with his words. I tilted my head to one side, wondering at his proposed ‘future’. “Our current partnership is tentative, isn’t it? Or does your bloodline grant skill in fortune telling?”

He turned, gesturing towards the hall with one long arm extended. “’Sensitive’ would be an understatement.” He replied dryly. “And while I hold no claims to… the mystical arts…” He paused, thinking that over. “… I have a feeling.”

“Should I be concerned?” I teased lightly, following him as he turned to lead us down the hall.

“That remains to be seen.” He rebutted genially. “However, I resolve to be more open in our conversations. Hoping that should inspire you to the same.”

“Have I been anything but?”

He offered a tiny inclination of his head. “I would not know. Yet our current path demands a bit of faith in one another, I would say.”

“What path is that?” I asked as I followed him into a small sitting room adjacent to the main hallway, where Hector had arranged pair of chairs across from each other at the sole table, each with a silver tray waiting. The room was windowless but warm, with a large portrait of a portly woman in fine garments whose eyes seemed to follow us as we moved. A small pit of smoldering coals in the fireplace lent a smokey stain to the air.

Thaddeus offered one chair to me graciously. “The path towards discovering my would-be exposer. And your would-be murderer.”

That set a cold stone dropping in my stomach, and I placed one hand on the back of the seat distractedly. Feeling a chill rushing through me that left me light headed. The noble lingered for a moment indecisively before moving to the chair opposite mine. Waiting beside it until the moment passed and I found a bit of my grit again to sit. He lowered himself more slowly, then reached to open my tray before his own.

“Do you remember anything else about whomever hired you?” He asked after a moment, tracing his thumb up and down the silver spoon as he poked at his breakfast.

I brushed away weighty thoughts. Unable to shake the feeling that the cracked painted eyes of the woman were watching me intently from her place above the fireplace.

“He was magically masked.” I told him. “His face and voice shifted constantly while we spoke.” I picked up my own utensil absentmindedly. “And I say ‘he’ in the loosest sense of the word. I really couldn’t tell. Just something about his phrasing and manners.”

“What manners were those?” Thaddeus pressed, “Anything distinct in them?”

I thought it over, tracing my food around the plate. For some reason, it all tasted a bit over salted.

“He seemed… rushed.” I decided at last. “As if he didn’t have much time. But also curt and specific in his instructions.”

He nodded slowly. “I see.”

“He kept to his words like a script.” I recalled. “Sometimes he’d say the same line over, and he didn’t really act like he heard any of my questions.”

I noticed that while half my plate was picked through, barely any left his. His brow furrowed a bit, and I thought I saw a flicker of something flash across it. I almost jumped when his eyes flicked up to mine, catching me studying him.

“What did he say of the pendant?” He asked.

I shrugged a little, releasing a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. “Not much. He told me what room to find it in.” I couldn’t help sneaking another peek at him as I shuffled my eggs about my plate. “I assumed I was to find it in a chest or case or something…” My expression turned sheepish. “I ended up too impatient when I recognized it.”

Thaddeus sighed a little, leaning back in his chair. “It is like a game of chess,” He confided quietly, “Yet I cannot fathom his play.”

“Chess?” I echoed.

A spark of light came to his dark eyes as they flicked to me. “Are you familiar?” I shook my head. “Here, I can show you.”

Before I could fully react he had cleared the trays off to the side and brought out a strange checkered board and a small, finely carved wooden box. He set the board between us and once he had settled back into his chair he began to pull little carved figures out of the box. Setting them strategically around the board. I had barely registered his movement before I realized he was speaking as well. Explaining the mechanics of the game he was laying out.

“Did the man warn you about anything?” He asked me after we had settled into a simple ‘beginner’s play’, as he called it.

“No.”

“He was only after the pendant?”

I shrugged again. “That’s what it seemed like.”

The reminder had me studying the features of his face again. Remembering the copper red tones, the scarlet eyes, the thick black hair. I tried to remember the full shape of his horns, and the point of his ears. Had they been longer than human ears? Or just appeared that way due to their shape? I found I couldn’t recall what his hands might have looked like, though I remembered him reaching one towards me for the pendant.

“… Can I see it again?”

His eyes jumped up to my face over the board. I was almost certain I hadn’t imagined the flash of red there as they did before they settled back into their usual dark brown as he tried to ascertain my meaning.

“Your… other form.” I clarified.

There was a weight to the silence that stretched between us following my words. I almost felt as if the walls themselves had shrunk, and the air had become difficult to draw into my lungs.

“Please, Miss Cora,” He replied finally, shifting ever so slightly, “Do not tease me.”

“I’m not.” I assured him, feeling a bit more life return to me at the sound of his voice. “The sight of you is burned into my mind’s eye, yet I cannot find the edge of my memory. And it is fading.” I traced one finger over what he had called the queen piece, watching him through my lashes. “It feels like a dream.”

His lips pursed slightly. “A nightmare I would not subject you to again.”

“I was not afraid of you.”

“You could not help but be.”

“Perhaps.” I conceded. “But only out of surprise. I had not expected to find a demon in a noble’s bed.” I smiled even as he flinched slightly. “But… I want to see it again.” I hesitated, chewing it over. “I want to see you again. That is you, isn’t it?”

“Miss Cora-”

“Just Cora.” I reminded him.

His eyes flicked back to mine hesitantly. “… Cora. I do not… That is…” He sighed quietly, looking away. “It is not wise.”

“I am not afraid.” I pressed. “You won’t scare me away.”

“Perhaps.” He agreed, a bit reluctantly I thought. “However… I do not…” He cleared his throat, straightening himself out. “It does not work like that.”

I shifted a piece into play, feeling his eyes following my every move. “How does it work then?”

I saw him shift in his seat slightly out the corner of my eye. Watched his hand go almost instinctively to the pendant at his neck.

“The pendant helps keep it under control.” He said after a long moment.

“But not completely.” I concluded.

He glanced at me through his dark lashes, his face forlorn. Perhaps heavy with the weight of my confirmation that his mask was imperfect.

“No.” A long pause, then “Strong emotions weaken the magic.”

I offered him a small, sheepish smile. “Sorry. If I poke a bit too much.” I sighed, looking back down at the chess board. “I’ve just never met anyone like you before.”

“Dangerous.” He assumed.

“Fascinating.” I corrected, looking back up at him. “… I wish I could see more.”

Our eyes met, and I watched him search mine. Perhaps for some lie, some deception. Some reasoning for my interest. Or maybe out of hope, out of need. I couldn’t tell, but saw his skin flicker, like firelight over stone, saw his brow soften a little. The weight of his chains lifting, if only for a moment.

“It is better this way.” He said at last, his flat tone belittled by his lingering glance.

I nodded, dropping my gaze. Feeling his eyes upon me for a moment more, as well of those of the old painting above the fireplace. As if the manor itself was watching our interaction play out.

We returned to the game, his instruction now coming few and far between. Our conversation completely stifled. I did try to focus. Tried to remember the mechanics of the game. But I couldn’t help glancing at him whenever I thought his attention was elsewhere. Wondering what he was thinking, or if he had really dismissed my request so easily. His brow returned to its furrow, his voice a deep, quiet rumble whenever he spoke. Sounding distant even to my ears. I tried to decide if he was lost in thought or distancing himself from the moment.

When the game finished, he nodded slowly.

“Perhaps we should adjourn for now.” He offered.

“If you’d like.” I replied, standing.

He followed my lead, tucking his hands into the small of his back. Dipping his head to me politely and making his way to the door. I trailed behind him, wondering how to best conclude our time spent together without losing what little ground we had gained. My thoughts twisting and turning as I struggled with what to say.

“Here.”

I was pulled back to the present by his soft, deep voice. His hand extended towards me. He kept it low, but palm up. Waiting in the air between us, the other still tucked into his back. I blinked a bit in surprise, then, with a little prompting in the form of a gentle nod, placed my hand in his.

Slowly, he closed his fingers around mine. Running his thumb over my own, encasing my pale hand in his. As I watched, the skin rippled, becoming the copper, molten hue. I almost gasped in delight, feeling a brightness fill my face. I brought my other hand around, running it over the back of his. Watching the rippling color solidify into copper, seeing the way his hand seemed to almost double in size. Completely engulfing mine beneath.

His skin was hot to the touch, but his grip was gentle. He moved his thumb across mine, then opened his hand once more so I could run my fingers over his. Tracing the lines, studying the slight claws and strong muscles. His fingers curled under my administrations, as if bowed by the feeling of my touch.

I thought I heard his breath catch, and looked up at him. Scarlet red eyes watched me, the rest of him frozen solid. I smiled wider, taking up his hand in both of mine. Clasping it gently.

“Thank you.” I said.

His eyes studied my face for a long moment. Then he nodded. Slowly drawing his hand back. The skin rippled and shifted away from my touch. Back to his more human hue. But his eyes lingered in scarlet tones.

Finally, he dipped his head again. Reaching out to open the door.

“Good day, Cora.”

UPDATE: Part Five HERE

[embarrassedanon]

FOR INTERNAL USE ONLY

TO: All Staff, Whispering Winds Resort & Spa

FROM: Human Resources

SUBJECT: Emergency New Management Strategy to Overcome Revealing Yourself (ENM STORY)

As I'm sure you know, at Whispering Winds Resort our clientele includes businessmen, politicians, philanthropists, and celebrities, some of the most elite men in the world. As such, we take their feedback very seriously.

There's no easy way to say this, but many guests have reported enduring seriously embarrassing ordeals while staying on our properties. Thankfully no women have reported such incidents, we could only imagine the lawsuits that would entail. But for the men, not a week goes by that we don't get a complaint from a seriously disgruntled, usually naked, guest.

In preparation for our busy summer season, we are introducing the Emergency New Management Strategy to Overcome Revealing Yourself or ENM STORY for short. This new policy starts with some immediate changes and a new protocol to assist guests experiencing an embarrassing nude moment.

IMMEDIATE CHANGES Discontinuing Locker Room Laundry: We will no longer be collecting guests clothes from their lockers for dry cleaning during spa appointments. So rarely were clothes finished on time, leaving guests trapped naked in the locker room until dry cleaning was complete. Zip Line Improvements: We've invested in a harness for the zip line over the pool deck. Given repeated incidents we will no longer attach guests to the line by the drawstring of their swim trunks or their belt loops. Honestly not sure what we were doing there. Dismissal of in-house tailoring staff: Once one of our marquee offerings, we'll no longer provide complimentary tailoring for clothes purchased at our boutique. We received many reports of what some men described as "deliberately weakened rear seams" and "faulty rear pockets" causing disastrous wardrobe malfunctions.

Adjusting the salinity of the pools: We found the that the level of salt in our pools had a tendency to weigh down bathing suits, causing some rather revealing pool exits. We're working to develop a new salt to water ratio to prevent that going forward.

Changes to Mini Golf Course: After several complaints of guests clothes literally blowing off, we have reduced the speed of the windmill on our putt putt course.

**Our ENM STORY Protocol consists of five easy steps Signal, Huddle, Assuage, Migrate, and Evaluate or SHAME for easy recall. Signal: When a guest suffers an embarrassing moment, it is your job to signal other staff in the immediate area. "Code Blush" is the signal for staff communication. Respond to a Code Blush ASAP when called.

Huddle: Once other staff is in place, form a huddle around the affected guest. All staff should be facing outward, giving the guest a modicum of privacy in the middle of the huddle. As a group, conceal their exposure from potential onlookers. Assuage: Time to manage the guest's emotions. Our high class clientele are not used to being humiliated like this in their everyday lives. Expect a strong emotional response. Take it upon yourself to explain how you minimized their exposure and assure them not many people saw and it wasn't that bad, even if it was. Migrate: Once the guest's emotions are in check, it is time for the huddle to move as a single unit to a more secure location so the guest can redress and reclaim his dignity. Movement should be swift and deliberate. Sloppy migration can result in broken huddles and re-exposed guests.

Evaluate: We need to evaluate each embarrassing nude moment on our properties to identify patterns and implement solutions. Implementation of the ENM STORY protocol must be thoroughly documented and submitted to HR within two weeks of the incident to ensure the efficacy of the program. We understand there may be an inclination to soften details of the story to protect the dignity of our valued guests. Omitting any details will only make it harder for us to put a good system in place. Trust us, there's no detail too embarrassing or too small to be included in your reports.

Finally, please note that nowhere does the SHAME protocol encourage giving the guest something to cover themselves with. Our legal team has advised us that offering a modesty material is viewed in some jurisdictions as an admission of fault and opens us up to potential liability.

[flightfoot]

ML Fanfic Recs for 2023: 5K - 10K words

So I’ve been going through and adding particularly good fics I’ve read throughout the year. Only Complete fics, of course. Enjoy!

Plagg eats Destruction while Tikki eats Creation. They choose not to tell their Holders exactly what that means.

Ladybug’s partner joins with Hawk Moth and she can’t figure out why. Not at first, anyway.

Adrien had started expecting the family breakfasts. He had NOT been expecting his father to collapse in the middle of one.

Adrien and Marinette both vaguely remember young playmates from when they were kids. Their first friend. Shame they didn’t remember each other’s names.

Marinette’s itching to win a prize for beating a merfolk in a race. Thankfully, a merman, Chat Noir, decides to challenge her. Pity that Adrien was busy that day.

Adrien finds a tiny, mousy guest in his new home, and makes a new friend.

Marinette helps lead a revolution to overthrow King Adrien with the help of her most trusted ally, Chat Noir. 

Ladybug and Chat Noir find a toddler wandering around during an akuma attack. Who could her parents be?

Chat Noir wrote a tweet mocking himself as Adrien. This totally does not come back to bite him in any way.

An akuma swapped Marinette’s and Chat Noir’s bodies. Marinette AS Marinette, not as Ladybug. This causes some problems.

All this and more below the break!

---

you don’t even know me at all (but I was made for loving you) by @ladyofthenoodle

They didn’t remember each other. The hospital told them there’d been an accident—brain damage—but Alya had told them the truth, later. Who’d they’d been to each other. What they’d given up, and why.

But even with their memories of each other gone, Adrien and Marinette are still inextricably tied together—by law, by their social circles, and by their hearts.

And in the apartment they share, there's only one bed.

Yep, it’s the “there was only one bed” trope XD! I especially love how it was used here, how Adrien and Marinette are strangers now but they had a whole life together, and they pine for each other even without remembering, and how Marinette just can’t believe how in love with her Adrien is even though he doesn’t remember her. I loved the emotional turmoil the two of them went through together in the fic, and the resolution, it’s great!

---

Experimental Feeding by Machina_Fun_T

Plagg eats Destruction*. Tikki eats Creation*.

They don't explain that to their holders.

*Warning - This diet has side effects.

I just found the whole idea here fascinating. Basically, Plagg and Tikki prefer to eat things that align with their concept somehow, and even get boosts from them. They decide not to explain the details to their Holders though (just to mess with them I think) which prompts Adrien and Marinette to both do a lot of experimentation to figure out what their kwami likes to eat the most.

---

Until I Found You by @linnieluna

Working their way up to a settled adulthood, Marinette and Adrien, now 23, gain a reason to believe that they are expecting—way earlier than they ever planned. Still unwed, it evokes a revelation on Adrien’s behalf.

Was it time to take the next step forward?

I loved the emotions here, how Adrien and Marinette reacted to the results of the pregnancy test, how complicated their feelings about it were - and how it prompted Adrien to take action. It’s a really sweet fic!

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From school bells to wedding bells by @linnieluna

When the superhero duo takes on another exhausting fight against an akuma, Chat Noir does what he never hesitates to do and takes a hit for his partner. The problem being: neither of them knew what power the akuma possessed.

That is... until he is transported into the future. More specifically, to his friend Marinette's wedding.

Ah I love time travel fics! Older!Marinette’s surprised, Younger!Adrien’s bewildered, and Older!Adrien is off knowing exactly what happened and giving his younger self some subtle heads-up. 

It gives Adrien something to look forward to, to cling onto, through bad days in the future at least!

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u + me = love by @xiueryn

Marinette has a massive crush on Adrien. He has a crush on the superhero, Ladybug. When he says the only person he'll invite as his plus one to an event is Ladybug, Marinette takes her chance to romance him for the night. AU.

(a fanboy and fangirl start to date.)

This is just a fun Ladrien story. Ladybug is happy to oblige in Adrien’s fantasies, and no one else believes that he’s actually dating Ladybug.

---

Disintegrated Pancakes by @scribeofrhapsody

Adrien had started expecting the family breakfasts. He had NOT been expecting his father to collapse in the middle of one.

I’m shocked I haven’t seen more of this sort of thing, with Adrien finding out his father’s Monarch via seeing the Cataclysm wound. I love that Alya gets involved in this, being the person Adrien runs into after fleeing the room, and then Adrien getting to talk things out with Gabriel and Nathalie. Thankfully Gabriel is at least not completely incapable of being reasoned with here, or things could have gone worse than they did. It’s a nice little read, though with an ambiguous ending (at least at the time when I write this).

---

Like Smoke From A Furnace by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

Marinette and Adrien give up their Miraculous. Ladybug and Chat Noir never meet again.

This one’s an angsty fic with a happy ending (though there is a little fluff in there as well.) Adrien and Marinette get together and have a family together, while Scarabella and Kitty Noire continue to fight Monarch for the next decade. But it still eats at Marinette that she never found out what happened to Chat Noir, that he never said anything before they both vanished, and Chat reappearing during an akuma attack when Kitty Noire was taken out of commission doesn’t help with that - especially since he won’t leave her head and she needs to commit herself to her family, doesn’t want to be torn by his presence. She cares about her family too much. 

Ladybug and Chat Noir never meet again... but there are other ways for them to meet up and talk things out.

---

with this ring by @thelibraryloser

She thought “you and me against the world” had sounded like lopsided odds before, when she hadn’t even dreamed “you against me” was a possibility. Or maybe she had dreamed it, but at least in those dreams he’d had cold blue eyes and a stark white mask.

The villain she’d fought today had looked at her through her partner’s own bright green eyes.

It wasn’t meant to be this way.

Short and sweet Sentiadrien enemies canon divergence fic here! I adored Marinette finding out why her kitty seemed to have “betrayed” her, and the righteous anger on his behalf once she figured out that it wasn’t of his own free will. Her comforting Adrien about it was just... really good. It’s a Hawkmoth Defeat fic too, so the immediate aftermath gets covered as well. Adrien needs a hug.

---

Miracoffee by @pauliestorylover

Ever since the last Mr Pigeon attack over nine months ago, Hawkmoth has fallen off the face of the earth, seemingly for good. There’s never been a better chance for an identity reveal—but after keeping her identity a secret for so many years, Marinette feels incredibly nervous about one.

When Chat Noir accidentally finds Ladybug working at a café, Alya comes up with a brilliant idea. If Ladybug and Chat Noir interact regularly in a civilian setting, surely they’ll move towards an identity reveal without outside interference?

Adrien Never Goes To Public School Coffee Shop AU here! It’s funny how he clocks Marinette as being Ladybug IMMEDIATELY. And then after discussing it for awhile, decide to make a bit of a game of the identity reveal, having Chat come in on pre-determined days and seeing whether Ladybug can figure out who she is, all while they get to know each other, even if in passing. 

Love the other Miraculous heroes making cameos as well, Marinette seems annoyed that Nino cosplaying as Carapace actually doesn’t tip anyone off XD.

---

Nothing Else Matters by LiquefiedStars

Marinette couldn’t figure out Chat Noir. He was supposed to be her partner, but instead ended up working for Hawk Moth. Still, her heart betrayed her and when a strong connection forms between them, Ladybug goes to Chat looking for answers, finding out more than she bargained for.

Sentiadrien enemies AU fic! He never wanted to fight against her, but Gabriel caught him before he could transform for the first time, and with his father using his Amoks against him, he had no choice. 

I like that there’s a solid explanation for why Fu let Adrien keep his Miraculous even though he’s been working against Ladybug, I don’t often see explanations for that that I’m satisfied with.

---

For the Sake of a Ring by @rosie-b

An akuma that transfers people's consciousnesses into other universes hits Ladybug, sending her into a world where everything is the same... but instead of earrings, she's wearing a ring on one hand! She's only just arrived in this universe, but already Plagg seems to have gone missing. It's up to Marinette to figure out what happened before she's sent back home!

This fic takes place in the future, after Season 5, but it does not contain any leaks or major spoilers. Please keep the comment section spoiler-free, too!

This is really cute, Marinette gets transported into a world where she’s married to Adrien and is really confused as to why and how they got married at sixteen. Adrien’s just an adorable puppy who thinks his wife is the most amazing person in the world! 

---

His Princess and Her Knight by @seas-of-silver

Adrien, Marinette, Nino and Alya have a group assignment about how the past has shaped them into the people they are today, but they’ll make a discovery that’ll send them searching for answers.

This fic is adorable, Adrien, Marinette, and Nino uncover that they all went to the same preschool together, with Adrien and Marinette immediately latching onto each other, Adrien being the knight to Marinette’s princess, and also making friends with Nino. Sadly he was pulled after two weeks, but it made quite an impression on him.

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A Friendship Not Abandoned (Just Delayed) by @nomolosk

Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste first met as tiny little kids, but then Adrien had to move away. When they finally meet again, will they even remember each other, much less become friends again?

Poor Adrien keeps on saying or doing just the wrong thing to give Marinette the impression that he’s a bully like Chloe when he’s not, and he keeps desperately trying to fix it. So a bit of an enemies au in that way, since Marinette doesn’t like him much. He does gradually manage to convince her that he’s a good person though.

---

as luck would have it by @silver-hibiscus

It's Adrien's birthday, and there's an akuma attack. Luckily, Ladybug and Chat Noir are there to save the day! Even if they're not the heroes that we're familiar with...

Not so much a kwami swap as an another au entirely.

Same title as one of my own fics, funnily enough! Though entirely different premise. This is a Gabenath fic, with Gabriel as Chat Noir and Nathalie as Ladybug, complete with a lovesquare and some unspecified other person as Hawk Moth. In this version, Gabriel and Emilie had some terrible fights and were separated, with Gabriel realizing along the way that he’d been a distant father and working to rectify that, he’s a pretty decent person here. I could actually kind of see this being a feasible path Gabriel could have gone down, if he wasn’t so desperate to revive Emilie and hadn’t gone so far to try to distance himself from who he was and where he came from back before he met Emilie and started changing to fit in with the upper class.

---

The Price by @clawsoutspotsoff  

He clutched his chest, feeling his lungs burn  as his body started to give out beneath him. No. Not now. Not this time, when he was so close.

He wrenched his arm back, striking with the other as he called his sword to his hand, fire and lightning and ice tearing through his nerves as he did, but finally, finally, the resistance gave way and he stumbled backwards.

Without looking, he turned and ran, calling a portal to appear before him. He fell through it, landing on a cold, hard floor in utter darkness. He could still hear shouting over the rushing in his ears, every part of his body failing at once, and before he could be pursued, before he could collapse any further, he forced raspy words through his torn, aching throat.

"Plagg, Tikki, unify!"

The world went blessedly, eerily silent.

---

Written for MiraculousFanworks' fanfic wars 2022

Will that be cash, credit, or memories?

This was a great look at how the Wish could potentially happen, what the kwamis might do to help mitigate the worst aspects of it on the people they care about... and what the price would be for it.

---

Emotional Mountain Ranges by @liiinerle

After Zoé's attempted romantic confession to Marinette is interrupted by an incensed Chloé and Audrey Bourgeois, she's left distraught and adrift, a crying mess in an alleyway far from home. Ladybug saves her from the incoming akuma, and tries to help her back on her feet - and Zoé wonders what she could possibly have done to earn this much attention from a superhero...

Lovely Zoenette fic here! I especially like how Marinette talks to Zoe, reassures her that she’s good enough, that she (as Ladybug) isn’t as perfect and composed as she thinks, and just... tries to get Zoe to have more confidence in herself. It’s mostly from Zoe’s perspective too, which I like since there aren’t a lot of Zoe POV fics.

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The Mer-Human Race by @rosie-b

Bringing her hand closer to his lips, Adrien tried to plant a kiss on it, but Marinette pulled away before his lips could touch her.

“Save it for your girlfriend,” she said teasingly. “Or do you still not have one yet?”

Adrien smirked and crossed his arms.

“It’s a girl,” he said. “And I know her in real life. That’s all you get. Now, let’s get back to planning, shall we? We have a mermaid to beat.”

Lovely world-building here! Merfolk and humans have had a treaty for a long time, so there’s a tradition where merfolk can challenge humans to a race, and whoever wins gets to ask for a reasonable sort of reward (in Marinette’s case, she wants to be allowed to captain a ship at a younger age than is usually allowed). Alya, Nino, and Adrien are naturally very encouraging towards Marinette, and luckily for her, a nice merman going by the name of Chat Noir shows up and challenges her to a race...

Yeah you can see where this is going XD. It’s fun, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

---

Late Bloomer by @generalluxun

On what might very well be the last night of her life, Sabrina Raincomprix pulls out a very special scrapbook, pressed between the pages is the past, the past she has never shared with anyone. She relives how she got to this moment one page at a time, preparing herself for the end. A phone call interrupts her self-imposed exile and brings news that could change her life forever.

Even if it does though the question looms... change it how?

Sabrina-centric Hanahaki AU here! I love how it goes into Sabrina’s relationship with Chloe over the years, the good and the bad - and even what happens post Revolution. 

I love the description of some of the plants involved, and what they mean, what they represent. If you want a fic that delves more in Sabrina’s character and her relationship with Chloe, this is a solid choice.

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Slowly Fading (from my misery) by @wehadabondingmoment

“You’re looking awfully deep in thought today, minou.” Ladybug’s gloved hand stroked over his hair and Chat Noir closed his eyes with an unstable breath.

He got like this sometimes. Lately, it had been getting worse.

Or: Gabriel likes using the rings to order his son around. After a while, it starts having effects on Chat Noir as well. (The more often Gabriel commands Adrien to act a certain way, the more it gets ingrained in his mentality. He suffers because of it.)

This is a gorgeous fic. Adrien’s been puppeted around, forced to obey orders for reasons he doesn’t understand, for so long, so often that a lot of times his own body doesn’t even feel like his. A lot of residual orders keep on bubbling up and stopping him from doing what he wants to do, and he just... doesn’t understand why. Considering how Adrien looked in Pretension when Gabriel forced him to go to his room so he could talk to Marinette alone, and how desperately Adrien tried to head back there but couldn’t make himself open the door, how terrified and confused he’d seemed, I think his feelings here, his mindset, is pretty close to canon.

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Spread Your Wings by @myladynoire

Set before the Finale. Félix uses his Kwagatama to summon his father's memory and has a talk with him.

I love Colt’s characterization here, how we see his mindset, his beliefs, and even what made him the way he is. We have a limited amount of knowledge about him in canon, only having the play Felix and Kagami put on to go off of, but myladynoire made good use of it! I’m glad Felix got some closure here as well.

---

Cheating Cat by @11jj11

When Emma and Isaac Dupain-Cheng realize that Adrien is Chat Noir, that can only mean one thing... that he's cheating on Marinette with Ladybug, and they're the only ones that know!

This is really cute, with Emma and Isaac being worried about Adrien supposedly cheating on Marinette and wanting to talk to Ladybug to stop her from dating Chat Noir. That’s not all that’s going on here, though - Isaac’s actually adopted, but he and Adrien are still related, which puts an interesting twist on the tale. There’s a reason he’s especially sympathetic to the fact that Adrien being Chat Noir means he would have had to fight his own father...

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A Mousey guest by charliepoet13

Adrien Agreste has finally managed to break away from his father and make his way out into the world. One faithful night, after settling down in his new home, he spots a strange guest.

Adrien X Multimouse fic here! So this is inspired by the Borrowers, with little people the size of mice living amongst ordinary-sized humans, and Marinette got a little careless here XD. But soon finds that Adrien’s friendly and not a threat. It’s adorable and reminds me of the The Littles book series that I read when I was a kid!

---

Three Crazy Days by @lea-panthera

In which Marinette's mind is forced to stretch a mile.

So Bunnix drops off Marinette’s future daughter for her to take care of, who blabs that her grandfather is Hawk Moth, and then things quickly spin out of control XD.

---

all of your flaws and all of my flaws (are laid out one-by-one) by @coffeebanana

Ladybug and Marinette have both been acting strangely since Monarch's defeat, and Chat Noir would give anything to know why—to be able to help them. He just...didn't expect his answers to come when Ladybug drags him to his father's statue in the middle of the night along with a bag full of spray paint.

If you felt unsatisfied with Adrien being left in the dark about Monarch, with Ladybug lying about Gabriel being a hero, this is a great fic to read. Marinette’s breaking down keeping this secret, seeing people treat Gabriel as the hero she told people he was, until she finally snaps and has to do SOMETHING, has to tell SOMEONE the truth. 

Which Chat takes pretty well! He knows how persuasive his father could be, and he’s mostly just relieved at finally hearing someone say that Gabriel wasn’t a hero. It’s still a lot to cope with though.

---

@ ladybug by @hefoundme

Trending in Paris

1 · Trending #JusticeForPapillombre

2 · Technology · Trending Tsurugi Corp Trending with Tomoe Tsurugi

3 · Trending #LadynoirStrong

So this is a multimedia type fic showing various online conversations and things that would likely be going on in Miraculous Paris. It doesn’t really have a coherent narrative per se, and is more like a series of vignettes. It’s a lot of fun, like there’s a section going over Andre’s ice cream reviews, Alix talking with Max about how she’s worried about Alim falling down conspiracy rabbit holes, an image of the most popular google search terms for Adrien, all sorts of things! It must’ve taken a lot of work and I think it’s worth a look. 

---

Don’t be a Stranger by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

Chat Noir has been fighting Chrysalide alone for years when one day, Ladybug appears. She seems to already know him, and is a little too eager to be friends. But the more she pushes for her and Chat Noir to reveal their identities, the harder she is to trust.

Written for Ladynoir July Prompt 31 - “In Every Universe”

This is an intriguing story, with a somewhat open ending. I don’t want to spoil too much about it - the plot hook in the summary should already give you a pretty good idea of the premise. It is a little strange seeing LADYBUG pushing for an identity reveal and making jokes during akuma fights, but given what’s happened, I could see why she’d try to do things that made her think of Chat.

---

hands red series by katrinette

Summary for the first fic in the series, a serpent in these still waters:

Marinette's on her knees before her new king, preparing to swear the oath that binds her to serve him to the best of her ability.

To the man whose father had her parents killed.

Every word tastes like ash in her mouth.

Marinette’s plotting to overthrow the corrupt monarch, as the French tend to do. She doesn’t know King Adrien all that well, since he just ascended to the throne recently, but she’s certain that he’s just as bad as his father.

Of course, rebellion’s aren’t very effective without help, so after biting her tongue with the new king, she rants to her partner in crime, a man whose true name and face she does not know, but who she deeply trusts nonetheless: Chat Noir.

---

Falling (sick) with you by @chocoluckchipz

Nothing would be easier than taking a pair of earrings off an unconscious Ladybug. Doing so would bring his mother back and end their decade-long strife. He shouldn't be hesitating when a chance of a life time presented itself to him. He should not be looking for excuses and reasonings as to why spending another twenty or so years fighting this woman rather than pleasing his father and giving his mother another chance at life was not such a bad idea after all.

Ah, I love a good enemies au! Even when they’re enemies, Chat is unwilling to hurt Ladybug. Though honestly, he makes himself out to be more of a villain than he actually is, it’s pretty obvious to everyone that he’s not trying as hard as he could to get her earrings. There’s very good reason for that.

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Lost Little Kitten by soliea0death

Monarch hasn't been seen for a while, but that doesn't mean that Ladybug and Chat Noir aren't still needed as the heroes of Paris. Also, the new holder of the rabbit miraculous may need some more practice when dealing with time travel. One-shot Ladynoir ;);)

This is adorable. Ladybug and Chat Noir find a toddler wandering around and try to find her parents, to no avail, so they decide to take care of her (well Ladybug said she was gonna leave her with Marinette, but you know what that really means). Of course Bunnix had to come to collect her since she was displaced from time, but neglected to say who her parents were...

Anyway this was adorable, and I loved the explanation for how, exactly, the little girl ended up in the wrong time period.

---

Eat, Pray, Duck by @trishacollins

Gabriel Agreste split his twin sons apart when his wife died, keeping one with him and sending one to London with his sister. Unfortunately, the Supreme was not willing to let this be.

He wanted a matched set.

Felix is a weapon, a servant of the Supreme. On a mission to retrieve the stolen Miraculous.

In a world that has outlawed kindness, sometimes the most dangerous person is the one who chooses it anyway.

I love this glimpse at what might have been going on with Felix back in Shadybug and Claw Noir’s world, I did wonder what might have been going on with him. Poor kid, he managed to have it even worse than he did in canon. I really loved seeing his interactions with Luka, the Couffaines rebel through kindness it seems!

---

Front Page News by @tiredfloridianbutverygay

Nadja couldn't sleep at night, not when there were still so many unanswered questions about the final battle. How did the Alliance rings seem to have the exact answer, to know exactly what to say?

Why did they turn everyone into a Miraculous-powered army? Why was Gabriel asking everyone to join with Monarch to help capture Ladybug and Cat Noir?

It was time to get to the bottom of this, and Paris' best investigative journalist was on the case! No stone would be left unturned and Paris would never be the same.

This one’s a pretty unique follow-up to the season 5 finale! I love Alya and Nadja investigating to try and figure out what happened with Monarch and exposing the truth, people deserve to know.

---

Friends who kiss by @kuromori4

It’s been about a week since Shadybug and Claw Noir’s goody-two shoes alternate universe counterparts convinced them to betray the Supreme and join the Resistance. And while they are determined to be better… It hasn’t been easy. While both Shadybug and Claw Noir have a lifetime of problems to untangle if they want to be good people, they realize a new look doesn’t magically make you a nice person. As if that weren’t hard enough to deal with, the two ex-Villains struggle with defining what their new relationship might be.

I love the two of them talking things out, and struggling. Shadybug in particular is still very prickly and prone to making snide comments about Adrien, even though she doesn’t really know him, and she still hasn’t totally come to terms with her own true feelings about Claw Noir. Though by the end they um. Figure that out, I guess you could say XD.

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Dragon by @liiinerle

Tomoe keeps telling Kagami about the importance of her heritage, but refuses to tell her what that heritage is. When Kagami looks it up for herself, she finds a lot of interesting information, a lot of frustration, and a deep and burning question - which Tomoe refuses to help her answer.

This is a Kagami character study, with Kagami questioning her mother’s actions, but knowing that standing up to her is a no-win proposition. It doesn’t help that D’Argencourt’s mirroring some aspects of her mother’s behavior, with being upset if she doesn’t fight well, but also being upset if she beats him. There’s no right answer here, which leads her to take out her frustration on others. Luckily, Marinette’s there to calm her down, to talk things out with her.

---

adrien agreste and the consequences of tweets making fun of yourself by Anonymous

Well, Adrien thinks, what’s the worst that could come from a few poorly thought-out tweets lightly ribbing his own civilian identity?

I love the focus here on how people just assume what Adrien’s thinking and feeling and act on his behalf, without actually waiting to see what HE wants, and Adrien’s growing frustration. How they create a version of him in their heads, but don’t care to check with reality to see whether he actually wants their “defense”. 

---

Spin the Bottle by @kasienda

When the bottle cap comes to a stop dead center on Nino, Adrien’s both relieved and somehow more anxious.

His first kiss - not his actual first kiss, but still kinda his first kiss - the first kiss he will remember, will be with someone he deeply cares about.

But Adrien also cares what Nino thinks of him, so what if he’s a terrible kisser?

Nino offers him a reassuring smile, and he relaxes. Adrien glances at Alya for permission, and she just shoos him towards Nino.

Adrien turns to Nino, leaning closer. If his stomach had been squirming before, it now feels like a half dozen Kwamis have taken up residence in his gut. But Adrien doesn’t hesitate. He blocks out the presence of all of his friends watching, and instead focuses on Nino - like Nino is a stage partner in a photoshoot.

Except kissing Nino is nothing like a photoshoot.

...

Adrien kisses Nino in a game of Spin the Bottle, and then neither can stop thinking about it. Alya really likes how flustered her boyfriend is by all this. Marinette though, can't handle it and keeps running away.

This is a great Alya X Adrien X Nino X Marinette poly fic! I love them all talking out their feelings and realizing new things about themselves. Alya’s instrumental and bringing everyone together, though she, herself, is also nervous about confessing to her longstanding crush XD

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a rose by any other name by @asukiess

Adrien's scared Loveybug only loves Catwalker.

Loveybug's scared Chat Noir only loves her, and not Ladybug.

How does the rest of the saying go again?

So obviously, this is part of the Loveybug AU, where Marinette gets stressed by her responsibilities as Ladybug and wanting to get away from that persona, and adopts a new persona as Loveybug, complete with a new transformation. This is a really good glimpse of this AU, I really love the Ladrien (Lovedrien?) especially, with her talking out her conundrum with Adrien.

---

The Two-Body Problem by @mixelation

Good news: they now knew how the akuma’s power worked, and the akuma had run off and given them time to regroup.

Bad news: the akuma’s power meant she was now in Chat Noir’s body, and Chat Noir was in her body. Her body, which was currently still Marinette.

Ah, I love a good body swap. This is set while Adrien and Marinette are dating, so he can’t help flirting with Marinette a little, even in these circumstances - which is a bit of a problem since Marinette doesn’t realize he’s her boyfriend. And also they’re in each other’s bodies, which makes it feel weird.

And then there’s the whole “someone is gonna need to use the Ladybug Miraculous” problem. It’s not as if Chat KNOWS that he currently has her Miraculous in his earlobes...

---

Windows 5 + 1 by @dadplagg-mamatikki

A bet between Kim and Alix trigger a chain reactions of events where Adrien jumps out of windows.

I love this. Adrien needs very little prompting to jump out of windows, heck he’ll do it with NO prompting, it’s hilarious XD. Heck he even asked whether Kim would prefer a normal jump or a theatrical one! It’s really not that surprising though, considering how we’ve seen Adrien dive from the top of his rock-climbing wall onto his couch.

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I know there’s been pain this year (But it’s time to let it go) by @ninadove

“What? Nooo! Adrien doesn’t hate Christmas.”

“Are you absolutely certain? What was he like last year?”

“Well, he —”

Marinette furrowed her brow, scanning her own memories. Of course she was absolutely certain. At least, she thought she was.

Okay — she could not ignore that Adrien had run away from home that night, wandering the snow-covered streets to escape the freezing cold of his own home. Nor could she brush away the disintegrated Morris column, cataclysmed for the crime of bearing his own face.

Oh, and the shaky videos circulating on YouTube. That musical number was… Concerning, to say the least. Still, it was no smoking gun.

Right?

“Oh my god,” she squeaked, plopping down against the counter. “Adrien hates Christmas.”

I love Marinette and Felix doing their best to cheer Adrien up, it’s adorable. Especially Marinette’s attempt. It’s very Marinette, I laughed out loud XD. There’s a lot of senticousin bonding here, so if you like that, this is a good one to check out!

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A Shadyverse Holiday by @lucid-ao3

The duo's curiosity grew after the encounter with their alternate selves from the Shadyverse. What was this other world like, and how were Shadybug and Claw Noir doing in the aftermath of their visit?

It's the polite thing to do, after all, for a superhero team to check in on their parallel universe counterparts and wish them happy holidays.

That is, if there's any happiness to find...

[In which Ladybug and Chat Noir take a holiday trip to the Shadyverse.]

I love this glimpse of the Reverse World, and how it makes Ladybug and Chat Noir question whether their own is really so different, if things could have turned out in their own world the way they did in the Reverse World - for better or worse.

---

what makes a human (am I?) by GraceM_TheStoriedLife

Adrien comes to Marinette's out of nowhere. Usually Chat is her rock. Tonight, it's her turn. (Or, in which Adrien discovers some secrets he's not prepared for and Marinette is as Marinette-y as always.

So Adrien discovers he’s a sentimonster and immediately runs to Marinette for support. It’s as cute and angsty as you’d expect. She is, of course, very supportive of him. Also some discussion of Gabriel being abusive, since both she and Nino had been trying to get Adrien to see that. Especially with how, exactly, Adrien found out he’s a sentimonster. He can relate a little better to Felix’s experiences now than is healthy, I’ll just say.

---

Caught In A Multimouse Trap by @a-flaming-idiot

Adrien was having a rather slow morning. That was until he discovered a tiny superhero trapped in his home and decides to be a bit of a hero even out of his suit.

This was adorable! Adrien does his best to care for the little miniature superhero caught in a mousetrap, bandaging her up as best as he can (thankfully only her tail got caught so it’s more of a phantom pain than an actual injury) and just... it’s really cute.

---

fine line by @bbutterflies

“Catwalker?” Loveybug asks.

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember… what happened before us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Before we were heroes. Was there someone else?”

Catwalker goes quiet for a moment. “I don’t know,” he finally says.

This is a surprisingly angsty take on the Loveybug AU. Here, since the Loveybug and Cat Walker transformations are so unnatural, they’re having negative side effects on Marinette and Adrien, causing them to be constantly exhausted and even to get amnesia the longer they continue using them.

---

You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess by @mexicancat-girl

With Team Miraculous now full-time holders, Ladybug has them patrolling in pairs like her and Chat Noir.

New partners Pigella and Purple Tigress get along phenomenally, their easy banter and similar wavelengths making working with each other a joy in and out of combat.

But sometimes Tigress is surprised just how close she is with her partner. Sometimes she tries not to feel too guilty thinking about it.

There’s some nice Julerose here! I love them kinda getting into a lovesquare with each other, though it’s not as much of a problem as it is in canon since it’s reciprocal in every relationship and they’re both down for a poly. It’s fun, and I love the “Luka attempting to woo some of his love interests” plot going on in the background XD.

---

Plans Aren’t Everything by BeeRye

Feeling a bit fed up with constantly having her dates with Marinette cut short, Kagami sets aside some time in order to plan the perfect outing for the two of them. Despite being the holder of the Miraculous of the Black Cat, she believes one day of romance isn't too much to ask for. As long as she treats it all like she does everything else in her life, the results she wants should come to pass.

She doesn't quite know what to do if that ends up not being the case.

This was adorable and captured Kagami’s mindset well, she decided, rather optimistically that she could just brute force the date into going well. Unfortunately, that’s not gonna stop Hawk Moth. Fortunately, Marinette has her own back-up plans...

[mypoisonedvine]

32:"I wish they could all know about us." 48:"there's no way that was just a one-night thing." 54:"just one more kiss?" With Thomas Shelby, Raymond Leon or Ernst Schmidt

-❄

oh my gosh I've been wanting an excuse to write for ernst for ages!

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), secret relationship, semi-public sex, a bit of marking kink?, cocky lil shit ernst with a fluffy side

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

You could feel his eyes on you as you worked-- it was distracting, even though you were pretending to ignore it, and you had to put all your energy into looking like you were actually being productive so he wouldn't interrupt you.

Which, a few minutes of silence later, he did anyways. "So, are we going to talk about it, or--?"

"No," you said firmly.

"O-okay," he agreed, looking back at his own work.

That silence only lasted for about ten seconds.

"I want to talk about it," he announced.

"I don't care," you frowned, turning to face him, "we said we wouldn't talk about it. There's nothing to talk about."

"Nothing?" he repeated with a scoff. "That's what it meant to you, nothing?!"

"No, I didn't say that, of course it meant something, I just--" you began, but stopped yourself when you realized what you were doing, and he smiled proudly.

"See? See what I did there? I made you talk about it," he explained smugly, "and now we're talking about it. Was that so hard?"

You wondered if he meant to say that-- to say exactly what he'd said to you two nights ago. Of course, he'd said it pretty differently then: he'd told you he was going to make you come a third time, and you swore up and down you couldn't do it again-- but then after a few minutes you were clawing helplessly at the sheets under you, sobbing his name, shaking all over. Was that so hard? he'd asked you, mocking how quickly you'd fallen apart for him.

So, yes, your heart sort of skipped a beat when he said that, and your thighs pressed against each other-- he noticed, clearly, since he glanced down at your legs and back up at you with a smile, but thankfully he didn't call you out.

"We can talk about it," you offered, making him perk up, "later."

He sighed again. "And how am I supposed to be productive when all I can think about is this conversation in the indefinite future?"

You rolled your eyes. "I don't know-- just figure it out, okay! We can't talk here, in case someone comes in..."

His eyebrow raised. "So that's what you're afraid of, then. Of anyone finding out."

"W-well, yeah, of course," you replied. "It would make everything so much more... complicated. And I'd never hear the end of it-- and think of how hard I work to be taken seriously around here. Can you imagine if some of those guys knew about it? They'd probably think I only became an engineer to sleep around-- or think they have a chance with me, too. I just can't handle that right now."

He nodded, stepping a bit closer to you. "You're right. I hate that you're right, but you're right."

"It's not that I'm... ashamed of it-- or of you," you offered, lowering your voice a bit. "You understand, right?"

He reached forward, a hand resting on your waist which made your heart skip again-- the way he'd held you that night, keeping you pressed up against him, touching you everywhere he could reach-- "Of course I understand," he said, breaking you out of the memory. "It's just a shame... I wish they could all know about us."

You looked up at him, smirking a bit. "Us?" you repeated. "Who said anything about us? We just hooked up one time, that's it."

His hand slid up from your waist to your back, pulling you into him. You knew you should push him away-- you had your hands on his chest, prepared to if you heard anyone coming by-- but you were too caught up in the warmth of him, the smell of his cologne, the way he was looking at you right then. "There's no way that was just a one-night thing," he said, almost a hint of anger in his voice-- of incredulousness, that you could even suggest that. "You were there, you know what it was like."

"What was it like?" you challenged.

"Perfect," he answered instantly, making your face heat up.

"Well, I don't know about that," you hummed, "there was that time where I accidentally kicked you. Or the part when you stopped for water and totally spilled it all over your bed."

"No, that was all perfect, too," he decided.

"You didn't mind sleeping on a wet patch?"

"Darling, you'd already made one."

You choked on your own throat, looking away to try to collect yourself. He smiled and used the opportunity to hook a finger into the neckline of your uniform, tugging it down a bit and humming proudly.

"My mark is still there," he noticed. "You're welcome, by the way-- for only leaving them where no one would see."

"No, there was one here," you corrected, placing your finger on a certain place on your neck, "I covered it with makeup."

"Oh! Impressive," he nodded, "I wouldn't have noticed-- right here, you said?"

His finger traced the place, and you nodded.

"Hmm, this spot right here?" he repeated, voice softer, moving closer.

Your eyes fell shut as he latched his lips onto it again, you mouth falling into a quiet sigh. "E-Ernst, I told you, we can't--"

You cut yourself off with a whine as he grabbed your hips, guiding you back to sit up on the console; your legs instinctively wrapped around him as his teeth grazed your pulse again, and he growled quietly.

"What if someone c-comes in, and sees us?" you panted, holding tight onto his shoulders.

"Let them," he purred. "They'd have to see it to believe it, anyways: how beautiful you look like this... how easily you give in to me..."

"Fuck," you whimpered, your back arching when his tongue traced a line up your neck.

"I still can't believe it," he continued, "everything you let me do to you, how perfect you feel inside. It's like you were made to take me."

"God damn it, Schmidt, don't talk like that," you hissed, using a commanding tone that he was much more familiar with from you.

"Are you getting bossy now?" he noticed with a grin, pulling back to look at your face. "I don't mind. You can tell me what to do."

Your heart pounded but your brain, finally, took control. "Fine, here's what you should do: stop. Before we do something really, really fucking stupid."

He smiled a bit, and nodded. "Okay-- you're right. We shouldn't."

You sighed with relief, and he pulled back slightly, though not enough to let you get off of the console.

"But before we stop, just one more kiss?" he pleaded, giving you those cute puppy eyes you couldn't resist.

"Sure," you agreed, smiling as he leaned in closer-- but he stopped, and his hands were suddenly opening your uniform's belt. "Wh-what are you--?"

"Sorry, darling," he winked, "but you didn't specify where to kiss you. So I chose myself."

Your head fell back with a sigh as he sunk to his knees in front of you. "F-fuck, Ernst, you can't be serious-- if someone saw us--"

"Don't worry," he purred as he started to tug your trousers down, "if this goes anything like last time, it shouldn't take me very long."

[mandos-mind-trick]

Inspiration

Summary: You're a famous romance novel author. Your boyfriend is more than willing to help you get over your writers block.

Pairing: Hunter x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, established relationship, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, lots of teasing, hair pulling, romance novels.

A/N: You can blame thank @moonlightwarriorqueen for this one. Been thinking about it all day since that ask and I had to write it.

MASTERLIST

You let out a heavy sigh once more, rubbing your eyes. 

“Everything alright?” Hunter asks, stepping into your shared bedroom. 

You let out another sigh, before nodding. “Yeah. Just...can’t quite get this scene right.” 

He hums thoughtfully, crawling onto the end of the bed. “What’s happening in the scene?” 

“Well, the love interest currently has his hand up the protagonists’ skirt in the middle of the kitchen.” You turn to look at him as he stretches out on the bed next to you. “I just don’t know what direction to go from here.” 

“Well, I think they’d both like to cum.” He says, deadpan. 

You slap his chest playfully, rolling your eyes. “Well of course that’s the goal. It’s just how they’re going to reach that goal that I’m unsure about.”

You had been embarrassed at first, when he’d asked what you did for a living. 

You usually were when people asked, either lying or skirting around the truth. It wasn’t shame that brought these feelings forward when you were asked by any means. No, you love what you do. It was more...loathing for the inevitable awkward conversation that followed. 

You had been honest with Hunter, mostly because you knew just by looking at him he wasn’t really going to know what you were talking about. 

Hunter didn’t exactly strike you as being a romance novel reader. 

That’s what you do. You’re one of the galaxy’s most famous romance novel authors. You write under a penname, of course, so no one knows who you actually are. You rarely reveal who you are anyway, only to people you know very well. People you trust. 

You had been right in your assumption about Hunter. Even if he hadn’t spent his entire life training and fighting a war, you doubted he’d be spending his free time reading romance novels. 

You had never expected him to read one of them, after the two of you began seeing each other. 

You wanted to simultaneously melt into the floor and explode when you entered your living room to find him holding up a datapad with one of your most popular book covers on the screen. You’re sure your body temperature went up a few degrees as he’d simply sat there holding the datapad with a raised brow. 

“My Clone Lover?” He’d asked, giving you an exasperated look. 

“They were very popular during the war.” You’d shrugged, shuffling your feet bashfully. “There’s a whole series.” 

“A series?” He’d asked in disbelief. 

You didn’t expect him to have read it already. He’d mostly had critiques of smaller details like the GAR and clones' day to day lives and how much freedom they actually had. You of course being a civilian had little knowledge of the military and war and had only had a few resources to go off of. Though, most of your readers probably weren’t reading for military accuracy. 

He only brought up those parts of the stories after you began to get physical in your relationship. 

Hunter’s a good lover. Despite his inexperience at first, he’s attentive and a quick learner. He learns exactly where to touch, where to squeeze, what spots he can simply run his fingers over that leave you squirming.

It doesn’t take much to work him up, either. 

“I think I can help draw up some inspiration.” He says, his voice pitched low and gravely as he tugs the datapad from your hands. 

He hovers over you, letting the datapad drop to the floor with a gentle thud. He presses his lips to yours, his hand sliding down your side to grip your hip. You hum against his lips, wrapping one arm around his broad shoulders. He presses closer to you as his hand slides down your hip to your bare thigh, squeezing gently. 

“You’ve been getting into the candy stash again.” He murmurs against your lips. 

“It helps me focus.” You giggle. 

“Sure.” He laughs, dragging his hand up your thigh.

“I know you like it when I taste sweet.” You tease. 

He hums again, biting down on your lower lip gently. “I do love the way you taste.” 

His hand pushes your baggy shirt, one of his actually, up around your waist. His fingers are rough on your skin as he slips them under your panties, his middle finger dragging through your folds. 

“Already so wet for me.” He groans, gathering your juices on his finger. 

“Can’t help it.” You moan, gasping quietly as his finger drags over your clit. “You just have that effect on me.” 

“Me, or the thoughts in your head?” He asks, circling your clit slowly. 

“I think about you when I’m writing.” You gasp, fingers gripping his bicep. “That’s what makes it so realistic.” 

He pulls away from your lips, leaning his head on his hand as he stares down at you. His finger continues to circle your clit, slowly working you up. “You base your protagonists’ love interests after me?” 

“To an extent.” You say, fingers digging into his arms as your toes begin to curl with pleasure. “The human ones, at least.” You gasp, hips jerking as he adds just slightly more pressure. “Even some of the other species.” 

He pauses, looking down at you. “Even the Wookiee?” 

“I did say ‘some.’” You roll your eyes. “But I still mostly picture you. The way your hands feel on my body. The way you touch me. The way your cock feels inside me.” 

“You should dedicate your next book to me. ‘To my boyfriend and his magical cock. Thank you for the inspiration.’” He says. 

You slap his arm, letting out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” 

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you again. “I’m joking.” He presses his finger into your pussy, making you gasp. “I’m more than happy to secretly offer inspiration for your characters.” 

“Good.” You gasp against his lips, his tongue tangling with yours. “Cause no book will ever compare to the real thing.” 

He groans against his lips as he eases a second finger into you, curling them upwards. You let out a strangled moan against his lips as he finds that spot inside you, your legs squeezing around his hand. 

He releases your lips to press his face into your neck. “The kids are gone for the night.” He says, lips brushing your skin. “Be as loud as you want.” 

Your head falls back as another moan is torn from your lips by his fingers pressing hard against that spot inside you. Your legs shake, walls squeezing around his fingers. “Kriff, Hunter!” You whine, your clit dragging against his hand as he fucks you with his fingers. 

“That’s it, baby.” He groans, licking at your neck as you writhe under him. “Cum for me.” 

You cum with a cry of his name, soaking his fingers. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm until you’re starting to shake from the overstimulation. He pulls his hand from your underwear, pushing himself up to sit as he takes them into his mouth, licking them clean. 

You breathe heavily as you watch him, the damp spot on your panties only getting bigger. He groans as he licks every last drop of your release from his fingers before he’s tugging his shirt over his head, revealing his tattooed chest. You bite your lip, lifting your hips so he can tug your panties off, slipping your own shirt over your head. He kicks his pants to the floor, revealing his hard cock. The tip is leaking already. As you said, he’s easy to work up. 

He moves between your legs, lifting one over his shoulder. You bite your lip as he stares down at you with dark, lust filled eyes. “You look so good under me.” He says, pressing a kiss to your knee. “Look even prettier once you’re fucked out.” 

“Kriff.” You groan as he slips his cock into you. 

He presses all the way into you, folding your body as far as it can. You reach up and tug his bandana off, carding your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch, and you drag your nails along his scalp. He lets out a groan, a shiver wracking his body. You smirk, tugging lightly on the strands. He lets out a louder groan, his hips jerking, causing his cock to move inside you. 

“Fuck me, Hunter.” You groan, wrapping your other leg around his waist. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, pulling his hips back just slightly before thrusting back into you. 

Your body moves with his thrusts as he sets a steady pace, the headboard knocking against the wall. Neither of you care to be quiet, not with the house to yourselves. You moan loudly as he shifts his hips inside you, back arching off the bed. 

“Just like that!” You gasp as his hips snap into yours. “Don’t stop!” 

You move your hips with his, your hands pressing against the headboard for leverage as you push yourself back against his thrusts. Your eyes roll back as he continues to hit that spot inside you, unintelligible sounds coming from your lips. 

“Feel so good.” He groans, hands gripping your hips almost tight enough to bruise. “Squeezing me so tight. Kriff, gonna make me cum!” 

You drop one hand to your clit, circling it desperately. You squeeze tight around him, one hard thrust from him sending you over the edge. You scream his name, writhing under him as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

“So beautiful. So kriffing beautiful cumming like that on my cock!” He moans, his hips stuttering before he’s cumming inside you with a deep groan. 

“Kriff,” You breathe, shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

Hunter groans, letting your legs fall around him as he drops on top of you, just managing to catch himself before he squishes you. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your hands against his back. He always gets sensitive and overwhelmed thanks to his senses, but you’ve figured out ways to help him ground himself. 

You work on steadying your breathing as he buries his face in your neck, pressing gentle kisses to the sweat-soaked skin. You keep yourself wrapped around him, ignoring the feeling of his seed slipping out of your pussy. 

“Feeling inspired?” He murmurs against your neck, rolling you both onto your sides. 

“Hmm,” You hum, carding your fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure. We might need to try a couple more angles.” 

He smirks against your skin, his cock getting hard against your thigh once more. “I think we can manage that.” He nips playfully at your throat. “Always happy to help you with your inspiration.” 

Ye ole Ragu list:

@rosechi @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @wolffegirlsunite @jedi-hawkins @sinfulsalutations @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @clio3kantarella @eris-k @thorsterstrudle @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sleepingsun501 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @blueink-bluesoul @starrylothcat @523rdrebel @thrawnspetgoose @originalcollectionartistry @gwalchmai2970 @maddiedrmr @sunshinesdaydream @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @mssbridgerton @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mooncommlink @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @hellhound5925 @commanderblood @crosshairlovebot