#only changing a couple of words and shuffling the order of a few things around but keeping large chunks of text and formatting

[thevioletcaptain]

pov! you're me, considering signing up as a participant in a new challenge, but as you're reading the rules and requirements you notice that they've straight up pasted in several sections of copy you wrote for a challenge you founded and have been running for the past seven years (and they didn't ask permission or provide credit!!!)

[flamboyantly-incompetent]

OoTP, Chapter 1 - A Hesitant Offer

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: none?

Masterlist

Word Count: 1948

Note: Welcome to the first chapter of my Draco x Reader series! Starts in Order of the Phoenix at the beginning of school term.

Ever since arriving at Hogwarts in your first year, you've had to come to terms with your nigh nonexistent sense of direction. That, coupled with the changing staircases, and Peeves' unfortunate habit of blocking several corridors with a single tantrum, meant that most days you had to leave the Hufflepuff common room at least twenty minutes before anyone else did.

This morning was no different. As you shouldererd your bag and climbed out of the round door, beginning your journey to Herbology 5, your friends waved at you from their cozy seats by the fire. They all had this period free, and had offered to walk you to the greenhouse several times, but in all truth you didn't mind wandering the castle halls before other students were about to disturb them. You liked meeting new paintings and ghosts, some more forthcoming than others, and some willing to give you directions. Early last year, the Fat Friar had personally shown you to your first Divination lesson.

September was quite nippy in the Scottish Highlands, but the castle was kept warm by strategically placed fire places, and the greenhouses varied on the climates of the plants within. The walk between the castle and the greenhouses, however, was a wind tunnel to be feared all year round.

In a stroke of good luck, you found your way on the first try, and the vegetable patches were in sight long before any other students. The sunlight was pleasant in that early morning way, and the wind was as brutal as ever. You pulled your robes tighter around yourself. As you passed, you peered across the way to note how the courgettes were doing - there were several that looked ready to harvest. The image of steaming courgette and tomato gratin filled your mind, and you smiled wistfully. Then, your stomach rumbled and you could only think of regretting skipping breakfast.

Voices in a tense discussion bled out from greenhouse 5, and you grimaced. It sounded like Professor Sprout was talking to a fifth year about their O.W.L.s.

"I am sorry," Professor Sprout said, though her tone suggested she was not sorry at all, "that you are displeased with your marks. However, I stand by them, and will not be grading anything on a 'curve' this year."

The frustrated student replied, "I didn't know you could get a T! What does that even mean?"

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, a T stands for 'Troll.' It means a troll could've written your essay." You tried to stifle a snort of laughter. Which essay was she talking about? Surely not the essay on self-fertalizing shrubs - that one had taken you two reference books and a single hour to complete. Granted, you'd only received an E, but your parchment was a quarter inch too short.

You stopped by the greenhouse door, wondering if you should interrupt their discussion, or if somehow listening in was better.

"That's insulting!" Malfoy said, "They're bushes that consume their own shit - what more is their to say?"

"Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy. I expect more from my O.W.L. students." There was some silence. You took this opportunity to enter the room. Professor Sprout smiled at you; you smiled back awkwardly, and put your things down in an effort to avoid eye contact with Malfoy and prepare for the lesson. Professor Sprout continued, more quietly but you could still hear, "As it is still early in the term, I will accept a rewritten assignment due in one week. And I highly recommend you find yourself a tutor. As I'm sure you've guessed, I only accept students with passing marks into Advanced Herbology."

Behind you, a few other students, Ravenclaws, shuffled in also trying not to eavesdrop.

Malfoy huffed away from Professor Sprout and stomped up to some other Slytherins, arms crossed and muttering. "Tutor," he spat. They looked at him quizzically. "Just wait until my father hears about this."

Ah, now you recognized him.

Professor Sprout cleared her throat from the back of the greenhouse and the class quieted, Malfoy still glowering by the door. "Today, we'll be attempting to produce high quality smoke from the fire breathing snapdragons you've been attending to. Go on, fetch your plants. Excellent. Now, the key to a good smoke is a high soil pH, and immediate watering after a bout of fire breath. There are a number of ways to do this, so have fun and try your best. Professor Snape has requested whatever we harvest today be added to the potions' store room, so capture the smoke in these." She gestured to a collection of glass bottles with marble stoppers to her left, then shooed you all to begin your work.

From your bag, you produced the pestle and mortar your mum had sent you for Christmas first year, and set it next to your snapdragons. They were glowing softly, the red flowers pulsating with a white light. There was a canister of chunk limestone in the corner; you waited patiently while a Ravenclaw student poked through it, presumably looking for a piece the right size. Across the room, Malfoy looked lost, and so did his friends. You tried to ignore it.

You plopped a reasonable hunk of limestone into the mortar and began to grind it into as fine a powder as you could muster. Then, you sprinkled the powder around the base of the plant, working it into the the soil gently with a trowel, and took out your wand - 10 and 3/4 inches of chestnut with a unicorn hair core, quite bendy. Limestone generally raised soil pH slowly, so you'd have to help it along.

You drew a circle clockwise with your wand and whispered, "Longius ire." The snapdragons responded well, the tips of the outer petals now a stable purple.

"Aguamenti," you said, wand tapping a watering can. Nothing happened. You frowned and said again, more forcefully, "Aguamenti!" A small, pitiful stream, a few drops really, fell from your wand onto the thin metal. Sighing, you carried the empty can to the hand-cranked water pump outside. As you passed, you glanced at Malfoy's plant. The tips of his flowers had turned a sick green color.

You returned to your snapdragons with a full watering can and a glass bottle. You prodded a couple flowers with your wand, the white glow they gave off turning yellow, then orange, until finally they ignited into tiny bursts of flame. The moment the last flower died out, you doused the whole thing with water, and gathered the plum-colored smoke into the bottle by swirling it with your wand. The snapdragon shook off the excess droplets grumpily, and you put the marble stopper back in the bottle and looked around.

A fair few other students had successfully bottled the smoke, and most looked to be the right color. You labeled the bottle "Y/L/N" and stood to turn it in.

Then you smelled something horribly acrid. It was Malfoy's plant. He'd succeeded in coaxing the flowers to produce flame, but the smoke was all wrong. You coughed and covered your nose with the sleeve of your robes, as did most people around him.

"Stupid bloody plant," he muttered.

By the end of class, you'd produced another bottle of smoke, and continued to watch Malfoy struggle pitifully. The glass of the greenhouse shuddered as the bell tolled in the distance, and in unison the class stood up and began filing out of the room. You threw a look behind you. Malfoy was shooing the other Slytherins away, holding a bag of something or other.

Before you really knew what you were doing, you'd weaved through Malfoy's gruff looking friends and approached him, asking, "What's that?"

He turned and scowled at you. "Why?" But you could clearly see the label. Leaf mold.

"It just seems like you could use some help. Did you know that leaf mold makes soil more acidic?"

"That's why I'm using it, to raise the pH. Duh."

You sputtered, "N-no, acidic is low - a high pH is alkaline."

"Oh." Malfoy looked down for a moment, then knit his brows together and said, "Well it's stupid-"

"Look, you need a tutor and I'm offering. What'd'ya say?"

He looked you up and down appraisingly, and you regretted offering your help with every passing second. "Why?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Why do you want to help me? What do you want?"

"OK, I definitely don't know what you mean. We can meet Saturday? I can help you rewrite your essay that I... overheard you... and Professor Sprout talking about." He opened his mouth to speak, looking even more affronted. "Just meet me here Saturday morning after breakfast. These are all open to Hufflepuffs on weekends."

Seemingly forgetting whatever he'd wanted to say a moment ago, he said, "I thought this was a Slytherin - Ravenclaw class."

"Oh. I'm a fourth year. This was the only Herbology five that fit into my schedule. I'm sorry, I've gotta go - double Potions - we have a deal?"

Malfoy glanced around at the empty greenhouse. "I don't even know who you-"

"Y/N." You edged out the door. You really did have to run, quite literally if this conversation didn't wrap up soon. "See you Saturday!"

Thanks to another broad stroke of luck, you ran into your friends on the way to your shared Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff double potions class, and made it with minutes to spare. After the lesson, you decided to swing by Professor Sprout's office to, hopefully, get some guidance for tutoring for an O.W.L. you hadn't even thought to worry about yet.

Like Hagrid, your head of house had her own private garden, though it was a series of rooftop patches that grew a variety of rare and occasionally dangerous plants. Not a pumpkin in sight. This year, there was a newly installed aquaponics tank growing a mass of thriving, slithering and hissing venomous snake plants. You gave them a wide berth as you crossed the garden to the office door and knocked.

"Come in!" rang a warm voice from inside. Professor Sprout smiled warmly at you from her desk when you opened the door to her small office. "Hello, dear. Have a seat. What can I help you with?"

Inside, the office was overfull of house plants, none of which were practical in any sense, but they were clearly cared for with love. You dodged an enchanted watering can and sat down. "Well, I just wanted to let you know that I've offered some tutoring to Draco Malfoy. And I was wondering if you had a list or something of the things the O.W.L.s should cover?"

She clapped her hands together, clearly pleased. "Excellent. I was hoping someone would take pity on him. I have some notes around here somewhere. One moment." She began rifling around in her desk drawers and continued, "Not a helpless case, that boy, I suspect he just needs a bit more attention than I can afford to pay him. It doesn't help of course that the gentle study of magical flora is often written off as a lesser one. Aha! Here it is. I expect you've seen most of these, but let me know if you need anything once you get going." She handed you a list of scribbled plant names entitled 4 OWLS. She was right - your mum grew most of these for her shop. This should be a cinch.

"Thanks, Professor."

"Of course, Miss Y/L/N. Was there anything else?"

A slow, giddy smile grew on your lips. "I wondered if you could show me the new aquaponics setup?"

She grinned. "Come with me."

[pretty-batty]

The Shoe

Eddie x Original Female Character Pt 6 of Eldath's Priestess 2431 Words

Warnings: Reefer Rick slander, not canon compliant, causal racism from Chrissy's mom. Bi Eddie. Jealousy, intrusive thoughts, rumination, body image issues, hurt/comfort. Now on ao3 Thank you again to @anakinkshamer! My beta reader and bestie.

Summary: An unbearable question threatens our lovers' great reunion.

Having Eddie back in her life was like a dream. Waking up to him beside her, the sun streaming through the curtains and forming a halo around his deep brown curls. The sweetness of his sleeping smile was only lessened by Judy’s desire to get up. As, just as he used to, Eddie’s sleeping body had boxed her in.

She sighed, sitting up and stirring from the bed. They had to wash a lot of sheets the past few days. Of course, that was only when they connected in bed. They worshiped each other everywhere and found any way to give each other pleasure. Even if it was through a touch over clothes.

But Judy saw the filth in his stitches, the irritation of his skin around it. They weren’t even surgical, just doubled up embroidery thread. They needed to be changed. Margie called in an order shortly after Eddie entered their home again. For surgical silk thread, isopropyl alcohol, surgical steel needles. Wayne was well-versed in stitching up skin. Not being able to afford healthcare for generations did a lot for practical wound care.

Judy attempted to crawl out of bed from the foot, only to be nabbed by two loving arms and dragged back to her pillows.

“Nooo.” Came a deep whine, but Judy continued to wriggle out of his embrace, “nooo.”

“Eddie, I got stuff to do.” She smiled, kissing returning each sleepy kiss from his lips. “Gotta pick up that stuff from the drug store, take care of your stitches.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, dragon-man. Maybe eat some food, shower, figure out how to brush your teeth correctly, trim your claws.” She smiled as she listed each thing, tracing her finger over his nose. Eddie did the same, his dark talon running along the slope of her nose. She wasn’t wrong, his claw began to hook over now.

“Do I need like…dog nail clippers? Maybe what they use for horses?”

“They’re called nippers.” She slowly crawled her way out of his arms, not knowing how exhausted she was until her feet graced the floor.

“Sure.” He groaned, finally sitting up and stretching. Judy gazed at his body and smiled. “Like what you see, Buttercup?”

“Always.” She finally stood up, rolling her head from right to left, crackling each time. “Pass my slippers and glasses, please.”

Eddie did so, allowing her to shuffle with protected feet and clear eyes to the side of the bed, giving him another kiss. She hummed, “stinky breath.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Another kiss, and the couple got ready for the day together, taking turns in the shower. One sitting on the toilet seat lid. Eddie first, then Judy.

As Judy showered, she’d catch a glimpse of Eddie’s face. Biting and pursing his lips, trying to make seductive faces in the silliest way. Anything to get Judy to smile at him again, to giggle and snort at him, to make him feel real. And she gave him what he longed for, flicking some water at him through the gap in the curtain.

But all morning fun must come to an end, and a clothed Judy left the house. Her hair blown dry, the volume returning but contained, makeup on but moderate to make her look as if there were nothing there. She had to hide her joy, but it was impossible to conceal it completely.

That was until she reached the drugstore, no longer in her car, standing and looking at the first aid supplies.

“Well, if it ain’t Judy Sondheim.” The voice was thick with grit, the accent faked in an attempt to sound less threatening.

“And if it ain’t Reefer Rick,” she answered, “still selling weed to minors?”

“Well, I had someone doing that for me.” He sighed, “if only I had been there to protect him, but I still had time on my sentence.” His hand rested heavy on Judy’s shoulder, unwanted, scratchy. “How y’all holding up?”

Judy tried to pull back her venom, “ya know…hanging in there.”

“Yeah,” he sucked his teeth, “he uh…was a good kid.” A somber nod.

More angst poured against her teeth. Weed and shrooms, less hard drugs, those were never a problem. But Rick always had more. His pockets were always deeper. Always ready to make a sale. He would always go harder if you needed to. If not shrooms then acid, dmt, pcp, if not weed then prescription drugs, Xanax, Oxycodone, Ketamine…Heroin.

Judy cocked back her venom in her mouth, “Which he? Eddie or my brother?”

Rick simply froze, giving a pat on her shoulder before turning to leave the aisle. “Good to see you again, Judy.”

After her trip to the drugstore, she caught a glimpse of the remembrance wall. Chrissy’s picture was the largest. Her place of death was no longer visitable, so her mother set up one in the most accessed area in Hawkins. She allowed others to place their photos, missing loved ones, faces of the dead, but Chrissy’s was going to be the largest.

Judy often wondered if it was something her daughter would have wanted. She remembered when Chrissy and her mother visited the record store the spring before Judy left.

Chrissy was such a mousy little thing around this grim woman, with that perm and gritted smile. She remembered watching Chrissy linger in the rock section. Classic rock, mind you, nothing too hardcore. Her mother was thumbing through Doris Day. Judy simply waited for them to make their purchase.

“Excuse me, miss?” The woman said, “yes I’d like to know if you have any recent music from the classics?”

“Sadly, many of the crooners haven’t put out music since the seventies. Any time someone asks for new music from the genre, I point them to Lionel Richie.”

“Isn’t he” her voice tapered to a hiss, but still with a jovial smile, “colored?”

Judy tried to contain her desire to roll her eyes, make a bitter statement about how he was a freemason as well. But if the woman was this bigoted, she might take that and run with it.

Judy simply said, “You are unlikely to find anyone who produces the same sound you’re looking for who isn’t Black, ma’am.”

“You don’t need to be rude about it.” The woman commented, “is there anyone else more helpful?”

“No, ma’am, just me.” Judy didn’t realize that her sharp tongue would alienate yet another customer, sending the woman to the arms of the Star Court mall and their record store that was twice a big and had a wider selection than Judy could ever dream.

And as Mrs. Cunningham wished her a pointed good day, sweet little Chrissy followed. So different from the bubbly teenager Judy had seen her senior year. Time was beginning to weigh on Chrissy, and her mother’s constant hammering voice was forming her into something palatable. Something Chrissy, herself, did not wish for, but did not fight back.

Two years later, she saw that finished product in that photo. Too thin, forced smile, eyes glossed over and empty, cheer uniform fit to chafing.

So why in the Hell was she in Eddie’s trailer?

There was no way he’d harm her, but why was she there in the first place? Why would she die and implicate him by her presence? What the fuck was Cheerleader Chrissy Cunningham doing in Judy’s boyfriend’s home?

They were probably fucking.

Judy slammed that door shut in her mind.

Hell no, Eddie wouldn’t.

Chrissy may have been pretty, petite, primmed and perfect. She may have been present when Judy was 5 hours away. And she knew Eddie would forget about things he could not see.

But she was not Judy. Not in the slightest.

Chrissy was small. A lot of men liked smaller women, made them feeling bigger, more in control. And Judy was taller, heavier. Not petite. Not pretty. Everything about Chrissy was petite, her face was cute, even her nose like a pleasing whisp.

Not like Judy.

Hag face. Jew nose. Dark hair too quick to tangle itself. Wide thighs to ripple and wrinkle. Breast to smother and wrestle control of. Thick and soft, hard to lift and handle like a doll. Not thin, not small.

A lot of men loved that smallness. To control, to fetishize for some lust for power.

Maybe Eddie did too. Deep down, clamped in his chest, a hidden shame. With his taste in men there was no shame, but there was shame his secret love of petite, skinny, goyishe women.

And Judy spiraled in this fiction, in the walk to her parked car, in the drive back home, in pulling into the driveway.

Oh, she stewed on this fictitious narrative. Oh God, the guilt she felt while she stewed. She could be wrong. She hoped she was wrong. She was probably wrong.

But what was Chrissy Cunningham doing in Eddie’s trailer?

As Judy returned home, surgical silk and other medical necessities in a paper bag, that nagging pain didn’t stop. As she unloaded her horde onto the dining room table, the ache dropped into her feet, and filled her up to her gut.

I need to know.

So, as Eddie sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for her to get back, she approached him.

“Why was Chrissy Cunningham in your trailer?”

Nothing, he froze, eyes wide in a stare that burned a hole in the bedroom rug. His gaze grew wide and vacant.

“Why was she in your trailer, Eddie?” Judy asked again.

Eddie remained silent, eyes brimming with tears.

She waited for a moment before continuing. She had to know, the aching in her gut pressing into the matter further. “Were you going to fuck her, Eddie?”

He silently shook his head, hanging his head and hiding behind his curls.

Judy knelt down and peered into his eyes. “I want to trust you and leave it at that. But there was a dead cheerleader in your trailer. I know you didn’t kill her, baby, but why was she there in the first place?”

“She…” He sniffed, running his hands down his face, “she wanted drugs. Harder than weed. I agreed to sell her…” His breaths became more erratic, realizing that the truth was going to be more upsetting than the idea of cheating. “Ket…” He clamped his jaw shut, holding his jaw in his fist.

“Ketamine…” Judy whispered, voice breaking, “Rick had you selling ketamine?”

He looked up to see Judy’s gray gaze grow wet with tears.

“It wasn’t just ketamine either, was it?”

He shook his head again, sucking in a shaking breath before sighing, his knee bouncing neurotically. “PCP, Coke, Oxy, Xannies…”

Judy stood up, facing away from him, and waited for the shoe to drop, there was one last drug she knew he’d hide. And judging by his reluctance to finish his list, she did it for him. “Heroin.”

Eddie started rocking himself slightly. The fear of losing her, upsetting her, hurting her was overwhelming any control he had over his body. To Judy’s disappointment, he did not disagree, did not shoot the accusation down in disgust. And that nagging ache in her gut dispersed through her body, sending a cold shock along her skin.

“Rick said that it was the fastest way to make enough cash to get out of here.”

“Rick? Why would you trust a fucking thing Rick says? He’s the reason Joey is in the ground.”

“We don’t know tha-”

“Don’t.” Judy snapped, turning around and facing Eddie. Her face was hot. Her pale olive skin reddening with rage, “don’t you dare. He got Joe hooked. He was his main supplier. Refusing to sell to him was not an act of kindness or brotherly love, he just didn’t want to be held liable.”

Eddie immediately quieted. Judy continued, “if he actually cared about you, he wouldn’t have had you selling hard shit that could get you or Wayne jailed for possession. He just wanted to make sure his product got moved while he was locked away.”

“I thought…”

She shook her head, opened her door and walked to the bathroom. Before Eddie could catch up with her, she closed the door. She ran cold water in the sink, splashing it on her face to keep her from boiling over. Eddie’s weight shifted from one foot to the other, as he always did when he waited for her, then a gentle thump of his forehead against its wood.

His plea was muffled, overtaken by the sink. She turned the water off, allowing Eddie to repeat himself. “Please let me in.”

She finally spoke. “You made a promise. When you started working for Rick, you promised me that you wouldn’t sell hard shit. Not after Marty, and not after Joe.”

There was nothing Judy wanted more than to be held by Eddie, as she had been in every horrifying moment that she could remember. Her rage had subsided, and soon fizzled out when she heard him answer her.

“I know,” he whimpered, “I know I did Judy. I’m so sorry. Just…please…” His voice was lower, having sunk to his knees.

Judy felt cold. That itch in her veins reaching out in need of Eddie, a primal and senseless ache. It embarrassed her to feel it. She needed him to tell her everything was going to be okay. She needed to feel his fingers in her hair, his heartbeat beneath her ear. Finally, she opened the door, his face falling against her thigh. Sinking to her knees beside him, hands on the carpet of the hall, legs on the bathroom linoleum, she gazed at his red, puffy face.

They both were ugly criers.

“Baby girl,” he sniffed. Judy’s jaw clenched in bliss, eyes closing at the sweetness of his voice. “Please forgive me. I didn’t do it to hurt you. I was just stupid. I wanted more money, and I believed Rick when I shouldn’t have. I made a really bad choice.”

She leaned into his face, gently dragging her nose along his. Their foreheads pressed together. “I know.”

“I thought these ugly-ass limbs and mangled face were the worst of my punishment. But I couldn’t live with these consequences if it meant losing you.”

She leaned into his chest to Eddie’s relief. He scooted them to the adjacent wall, beside her bedroom door. Judy sat between his thighs, her legs beneath one of his, tucking her head beneath his chin. His arms closed around her, clutching her to him. “I just wish it never happened.” She whispered.

“Me too, Buttercup.”

Thank you for being patient. I appreciate the time you take to read this. I smile at every like I receive, kick my feet at every reblog. If you wish to be added to the tag list, please comment.

Tag list: @loserboysandlithium

[halikyon]

From Dust to Dawn: Chapter 4

Summary: Its the beginning of a new era of Ryune's life. First step? A new place to call home. (Its full of fluff!)

Word Count: 5254

Note: Writing is hard. This took me way too long as I got blocked forever.

Warnings: Nudity, Sexual Themes

Prev

Story below the cut:

"This is getting a bit silly, Naago. I can make a pretty good guess as to where we are.” Said Ryune being led by the arm, a black blindfold over her eyes. For the first time in a while she was in her favorite blue outfit with her dark boots and feather clip in her hair. It felt great to be out in the world again, and she relished the feeling of the packed dirt beneath her feet as they walked up the slope that led to the upper levels of Ala Ghanna.

“Because it's not much of a surprise if you can see it!” M'naago replied, her heart racing. Despite Kirui's insistence that Ryune would love it, she couldn't help but be nervous. She still wore her Resistance uniform, not thinking to change until it was a bit too late. They had just come from the medical ring of Labyrinthos, where they had packed up Ryune's things and headed here at M'naago's insistence. They had all they really owned in the packs upon their backs, though Ryune didn't know that. M'naago had told her she was bringing some supplies to explain her own pack as she had yet to suggest living together.

Ryune was fairly certain she knew what was happening. There weren't many reasons to come here these days, and she knew M'naago took her concerns to heart, which meant something was likely afoot regarding her place of residence. Usually she just stayed at a local inn, but she had talked to M'naago more than once about how it might be nice to have a more permanent home to come back to. She imagined that M'naago and maybe a few others had bought her a place here in Ala Ghanna as a gift, though she could have done so on her own. She did appreciate the gesture, nonetheless.

“We're almost there.” M'naago assured her. “One more rise and then it's flat the rest of the way.” The slight quiver in her voice threatened to betray her overwhelming excitement. It had only been a couple of weeks since she had sent Kirui here, but she had been told by Kirui herself that everything was perfect and ready to go.

It had taken them a while to carefully shuffle this far, and Ryune was thankful that the journey was almost over. “Whatever it is, I hope it has a place to sit and rest a while.” She had recovered from her injuries from fighting Zenos, but she still lacked her strength and endurance. Truly she was just glad the pain had mostly been dealt with. “My legs aren't very pleased with me right now.”

“Aye, you’ll have plenty of time to rest.” M'naago answered, “Among other things!”

It didn't take long once they reached the top to reach their destination: the last home at the end of the walkway. Ryune could hear the gentle roar of the nearby waterfall, feel the warm breeze as the sun began to set for the evening, and smell…cerulium?

M'naago untied the blindfold from Ryune's head. “Here we are.” she stated, “Wait…”

��Hm? What's wrong?” Ryune asked, peeing around the wall and spotting the unmistakable work of Ironworks engineers, a ceruleum generator and tank with conduits spearing into the stone wall.

“I did that in the wrong order!” M'naago exclaimed. “I should have taken that off when we were inside. Gah, I had a whole plan!”

“Hey it's alright, it's still a surprise after all.” Ryune assured her, a bit confused by how flustered M'naago had become. “Take a deep breath, it's a happy day after all.”

M'naago took a deep breath almost instinctively at the suggestion. A few phrases passed through her mind about being stressed about today, but in truth she knew Ryune was right. Finally out in the world and at a new place, but with such an important question on her mind she couldn't help herself. Finally, she answered, “Aye, a fair point.” A small stomp punctuated her statement, a holdover from Resistance training and an unconscious tell of a mental reset that Ryune found to be adorable. “Let us begin the tour, then.”

“Please, after you.” Ryune gestured to the door. She was eager to see what was inside after spotting the generator. 

M'naago went to turn the know, but it refused to budge. “Oh, right, key…key key key…” She looked around for a moment before remembering what Kirui had told her the night before over linkpearl. “Right, the rug!” M'naago made her way over to a rug that had a few chairs on it and an awning that kept the sun at bay at its highest point. It had never been clear whose it was, but no one ever took it or claimed it, so most assumed it to be for public use. “Right were they should be.” She said as she extracted the pair of keys from their hiding place, palming one of them and presenting the other before making her way back to the door.

“So I see it was a collaborative effort, then.” Ryune stated. “I hope they didn't go too overboard.”

“Aye,” she added quietly, “I hope so, too.” The door opened smoothly once she unlocked it, betraying the fact that it had clearly been replaced, the doorframe most assuredly having been squared up, and that clearly the people who had worked on this had been quite serious in their efforts.

The light of the evening spilled in to reveal a spacious interior by their normal standards, an ornate rug that seemed a bit thicker than usual implying some sort of padding beneath. The rest was still obscured by shadow as their eyes adjusted.

“Hm, now where might those lanterns be…” Ryune wondered as she stepped in, stopping a few fulms in before placing down her backpack.

“No need, the Ironworks have it covered for us.” M'naago declared as she did the same and dropped her own pack before turning to the wall. “Now the switch should be here somewhere…aha!”

A pleasant light filled the space, not too different from the warm color of a lantern, but emitting from a fixture on the ceiling. It was a partial dome with stained glass leaves and flowers decorating its surface, mounted dead center of the square room. They both took note of the furniture and fixtures around the space. In the middle sat the large traditional Ala Mhigan rug, its colors matching perfectly with the smooth rock walls and ceiling. Moving around the room starting to her left, they could see large, tall cabinets against the wall leading to a countertop. An oven had been embedded within the counter halfway across the wall, seeming to also be powered by the generator outside. Above were cabinets hung upon the wall for extra storage. The counter continued into the corner and followed it, leading to a large sink. Following the room around next was a door, almost directly across from the entry door, with a label declaring it to be ‘Storage’. Further along was a table and a pair of chairs taking up the corner of the room. It was conveniently Miqo’te sized rather than the one-size-fits-all type that was needed in public spaces, meaning that, for once, they would be able to relax in the chairs without feeling like children, though they knew Lalafell had it so much worse. Moving along, the next object was another door, this one ajar and leading into a still-dark area. In the last corner was a tall cabinet-looking thing emitting a low buzz. In the same corner was also a pair of chairs against the wall, clearly intended for use whenever they might have guests.

Ryune made her way to the object in the corner. “What is this thing?” She noted the handle, pulling it with a bit of force to get it to open. Cold air fell upon her, causing her to shiver involuntarily. “Wait I know, this is one of those..ah, what is it called?”

“I believe the terminology they were using was ‘auto-cooler’.” M'naago offered. “It had a few other words attached to it that made it sound much more impressive.”

“Ah, yes, I see!” Ryune chuckled as she found an engraving on the door. “This is the ‘Mark XXI Cerulium Auto-Cooler Storage Device’ according to this.”

“Aye, that's the one!” M'naago replied. She was still feeling nervous, but the fact that Ryune seemed to be enjoying herself was helping. “Always did come up with the most interesting names, those two.”

“Biggs and Wedge, I assume.” Ryune guessed, closing the door. “It's their calling card for sure.” She looked around for a moment before reaching down to her boots, beginning the process of getting out of them. “As nice as it is in here I feel a bit bad tracking in dirt.”

M'naago nodded and did the same. “A fair point. I doubt we'll need shoes in here anyway.”

Freshly de-booted, Ryune made an observation about a few grates in the walls near the ceiling. “Do you know what those are for?” She asked, pointing up at the nearest one above the open door.

“Some sort of air flow device meant to keep things cool.” M'naago said, making her way to the storage door. “It starts back here I think.” She opened the door, sliding it into a pocket in the wall, and flipped on another switch, revealing yalms worth of shelving and a device at the other end with receptacles for crystals already filled with ones aspected to ice. She found yet another switch on it and flipped it as well, causing a fan visible on the outside to draw in air and push it seemingly into the wall.

“Oh, clever!” Ryune exclaimed, her hand now just a few inches away from the grate. “I take it that was you?”

“There's a switch in here for it. Some sort of device that uses ice crystals and a fan to send the cooled air through.” M'naago explained, leaving it on for now and coming back out. “Clever indeed.”

“They delight in this sort of thing.” Ryune said, “And I do appreciate that it's not obvious. They could have installed metal ducts and things but they kept it all nicely hidden.” She put her hand down from the grate. The open door to the next room beckoned her, and she couldn't help but want to explore beyond. “Let's keep going.”

Ryune led the way, feeling along the wall for a moment before finding the switch. This time both a light and the overhead fan it was attached to came on, revealing the bedroom. To the left of them was a large chair in the corner. It looked very soft and was upholstered in some velvety-looking material. Beside it was a small chest that framed another door along with a wardrobe on the other side. A long chest of drawers lay along the wall opposite where they came in, and to their right, taking up most of the space, was a slightly raised platform with a large mattress covered with blankets and pillows. A lone window sat in the wall above the bed, blackout curtains drawn to preserve the darkness until they got there. Cool air was already circulating through as they stepped forward onto another large, ornate, woven rug.

“This…there's so much storage. I can't Even fill half of this!” Ryune said, smiling. She turned and ran her hand across the chair, which looked large enough for them to fit snugly in. “And this is way too soft. Someone really spent a lot of effort on this stuff.”

“Yes, someone certainly did.” M’naago marveled. Even to her lay eye the furniture exhibited exquisite craftsmanship. “Someone who cares a great deal…” She trailed off as she took it all in.

Not stopping to marvel at it long, as she felt she would have plenty of time to later, Ryune opened the door into the next room and found the light switch much more easily this time. “Ah! Naago, come see!” She beckoned excitedly.

M'naago made her way over and stopped in the doorway. Yet again, it would seem Kirui and the Ironworks had outdone themselves. To the left was a large tub carved into the rock with a shiny smooth finish that looked like it must have taken ages to do. It even had a shower head poking from the wall and enough soace, and depth, for a bench to have been carved into one side. Next was a vanity with a sink and mirror with space for them to work beside one another. Then was what seemed to be a modern Garlean style toilet, likely courtesy of Cid himself considering the origin. Lastly was an open doorframe that led through to a spacious closet and a hatch in the back labeled ‘Machinery’. They both understood that messing around in there was likely a good way to break something.

Ryune noticed all the items already layed out for her. Folded towels, soaps, hand towels, fuzzy floor rugs, all the things she didn't really have herself. Then her eyes noticed the folded square of parchment next to the sink. While M'naago was exploring the closet still, she opened it:

Dear Ryune and M'naago,

Welcome home! I'd have preferred to have been here myself, but I figured it might be nice to explore for yourself and settle I'm before you get any visitors. I made all the furniture myself, so they come with my lifetime guarantee! We did leave some snacks in the cooling thingy if you get hungry. Also, yes, I did have the engineers go and install the utilities in the homes of those who wanted it, so don't you go off feeling guilty about having this. You have earned a place to live comfortably for once. I'll come around tomorrow and see how things are going, so don't worry if the technical bits are overwhelming, I'll take the time to explain if needed. See you then!

Love,

Kirui

P.S: Ask M'naago about what's on her mind, she’s probably nervous.

Ryune folded it back before M'naago could see. Of course Kirui had been involved, there were few who would take such care like this. Considering the timeframe of when she had visited her in Labyrinthos to now, she must have been exceedingly busy. Ryune decided she would have to do something very nice for her when she got the chance.

Ryune had picked up on M'naago's nervousness earlier, and now with Kirui's warning as well she couldn't help but wonder what they had ended up speaking about that night she had needed to rest while they were talking together. She supposed she would find out soon. Before M'naago could come around the corner and see, Ryune tucked the letter into the V of her shirt.

“I haven't the slightest idea what all those pipes and wires do, but from what I can tell we have hot water whenever we like.” M'naago explained, dusting herself off as she had needed to crawl to take a good look at the Machinery space.

A hot bath…and Naago's here…mmm…no, not yet. Ryune tried to get hold of her thoughts before she got too many ideas. First she needed to figure out what it was M'naago was so nervous about. “Naago?”

“Aye, what is it, love?” M'naago responded almost automatically.

“I'm not sure what's going on, but you've been on-edge. You can tell me anything, you know.” Ryune offered.

M'naago looked away, a surefire sign that she was very much unsure. “I…yes, well…” she took a deep breath to steady herself. Ryune approached so they were face to face, placing her left hand in M'naago’s waist and her right finding a place on her forearm. “I've been thinking about this for a while, and I even talked to Kirui about it, well, she talked to me about it before I even brought it up, but anyway, as I was saying, it's been something I've really been considering-”

“Naago.” Ryune interjected firmly but gently.

M'naago closed her eyes, taking another deep breath. “I want to live with you.” A moment of silence passed between then as M'naago hesitantly opened her eyes again.

“That's what you were so worried about? Of course you can! I was already going to ask you to stay.” Ryune pulled her into an embrace, feeling her relax in her arms. “How could I ever say no?”

“I…ah-” M'naago struggled to respond.

“You got into your own head about it, didn't you.” Ryune said, leaning back a little to look her in the eye while keeping her arms around her.

“Aye,” M'naago admitted, “I really did.”

“Well, then I hope you don't mind if I put myself there instead.” Ryune quipped before leaning in and kissing her. It felt more electric than usual, like something had connected between them even more now. Perhaps now was the time after all. She kissed her again and again, M'naago kissing her back, clearly enjoying herself without the added stress.

“I don't mind at all.” M'naago said as their lips parted, “Though I might like to get cleaned up a bit first.”

“I like that idea.” Ryune said softly. “I hope you don't mind helping me out of this.”

As M'naago pulled Ryune's shirt off, the note fell to the floor. She scooped it up, unfolding it and skimming through while Ryune undid her hair. “Ah, Kirui, she really was right.”

“She always is.” Ryune responded, shaking her head as her hair fell loose. “Your turn!” Her hands made quick work of the fasteners holding M'naago’s top on, the belts and pouches falling to the floor. Ryune pulled her partner's shirt off for her the rest of the way as well.

“It might be good to turn the water on for the tub, love.” M'naago said, smiling, “Before we get too carried away, that is.” She had instinctively motioned to cover herself up, but stopped herself, letting Ryune see her as she was.

“Yes, yes, always a stickler for details!” Ryune joked, turning to work the knob. It was conveniently simple to use, and Ryune had no trouble getting it working. Hot water poured into the tub as Ryune turned back to M'naago.

In the time she had looked away M'naago had completely undressed, her hair let down and hanging down to her shoulders. Ryune admired her curves, her muscles, all of her all at once. Ryune noticed she seemed fuller than before, her thighs and belly much softer, clearly the result of less activity and more good food. It was pleasant to look at, inviting. “Eager as I am, I see.” Ryune was beaming with excitement.

“I'll admit, I'm nervous about this.” she said as Ryune finished undressing. “I've never done this sort of thing before.” Saying it freely seemed to alleviate half the nerves already, surprisingly enough. She would need to make sure to be upfront more often.

“Don't you worry, Naago, I'll take good care of you.” Ryune stepped into the tub and turned around, offering her hand. “No need to rush. We can take all the time we need.”

M'naago took her hand and joined her, letting her pull her down into the rising water. The heat was wonderful, but this feeling, this new wave of comfort that washed over her, had nothing to do with the temperature. As Ryune turned the water off, M'naago moved in close on the small bench ledge they had sat upon. Truly she didn't know what to do with herself, but she wanted to be near.

Ryune turned to her with soap in hand. “I'm going to make sure every part of you is spotless.” She said with a suave charm to her voice.

M'naago smiled back at her, letting herself relax into what would come next, “I'm all yours.”

—

They rested in each other's arms among the blankets in bed, neither one thinking to redress after it all. Ryune was still mostly on top of M'naago, her face nuzzled into her neck, her hair a mess as it splayed out over her back. M'naago knew hers was likely just as chaotic, but such was the nature of things.

Ryune stirred, talking into her neck, the heat of her breath causing a pleasant tingling sensation. “Need any more?”

M'naago was a little shocked, “More? Love, I don't think I can walk right now.”

“Mmmh, that wasn't a no.” Ryune said slyly, her hands already in the move.

“Hold on, let's just rest a while, alright?” M'naago said, stopping her. “I'm exhausted, and I know you must be too.”

“Oh? Pretty confident for you first time I see.” Ryune joked, kissing her neck.

“T-thats not what I mean!” M'naago said.

Ryune chuckled softly, a sound M'naago didn't think she would ever tire of, “I know, and you're right. I didn't want to leave you wanting is all.”

“As if you could. In truth, I've never felt so…content.” M'naago admitted.

“Honesty, I feel the same. This was new, in a different way, for me.” Ryune spoke slowly, attempting to find the right words, “I've likely had many tens of experiences with all kinds of people, but none like this, none that made me feel this way.”

“What way is that?” M'naago wrapped her arm around Ryune as she asked.

“Connected. Vulnerable, perhaps, but in a good way.” Ryune mused. “I like it a lot.”

M'naago understood. It was as if all the masks and walls were completely gone. She realized how much Ryune trusted her to do that, and just how much she trusted Ryune in return. Her heart filled up at the thought. “Ryune, I've never felt this way about anyone before. I want you.” The words seem to come forth on their own. “I want this.”

“Me, too.” Ryune felt like she was melting into M'naago as she lay there. “I feel more at home in your arms than I've ever felt in my life.”

Tears began to well in M'naago's eyes. “That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard.” She squeezed Ryune to her chest, pulling her all the way on top of her in the process. “I'm so happy.”

Ryune found herself unable to move between the exhaustion of what they had done finally setting in and her weakened body reaching its limit. It was alright, though, she didn't feel the need to move a single ilm. “I love you, Naago. More than I ever thought possible.” She said, fully relaxing herself, knowing M'naago would be there to support her.

“I love you, too, Ryune, in ways I didn't know one could.” She said as she pulled one of the blankets over them, sensing that Ryune was fully out of energy and in need of rest. “And I look forward to doing so every day.”

Ryune hummed a note of contentment. “Before I pass out, I want you to know, you did wonderfully.”

M'naago felt warmth in her cheeks. “I-I just did what felt natural, is all.” She didn't know if Ryune heard her or not, though, as clearly she had fallen asleep upon her, her breathing even and deep. It was here she found herself appreciating the cool air circulating around them, as the warmth that enveloped her wouldn't turn hot. She could enjoy this moment, stroking Ryune’s hair as she lay so peacefully. She pondered how she could have gotten so lucky, sent some thanks to Menphina, and wondered about what it might be like to have Ryune back in top form. She figured she might need to take up endurance training if tonight was any indication as she eventually joined her love in restful sleep.

—

The sun shown fairly high in the sky, just a bell before noon if Kirui's reckoning was correct as she strode up the path towards the culmination of her recent efforts. She hoped they were still in and hadn't gone off on some errand or another, though she could always give Ryune's linkpearl a ring if that was the case. She could hear the light hum of the ceruleum generator as she approached, though the sound of the nearby waterfall competed with it for prominence.

Today she wore her favorite shirt, the cute frilly one with earth tones over a small cream colored undershirt and dark shorts that were supplemented by her old comfortable long leather boots to cover her legs. It was a pretty warm day and the moisture in the air typical of the region didn't make it any cooler, so she wouldn't even try to wear anything heavier without good reason. Being used to the drier heat of Ul'dah she had found the cooling system in the house to be invaluable to her productivity. The cooler climate and breeze it provided reminded her of the Azim Steppe.

Now at the door she realized the lock wasn't engaged, the keyhole resting horizontally. Doubt crept into her mind about whether or not she had remembered to lock it after she had dropped off all the little amenities and her note. Were they here, had they forgotten? They couldn't possibly be asleep, perhaps they were delayed? She wondered as she reached for the knob. What if someone had gotten in? She would have to be cautious, just in case. She wasn't a fighter like Ryune, but she could do some damage with a hammer.

She pulled out her ball peen hammer and ever so quietly opened the door, full glad it had been replaced and properly oiled in the renovation process. Inside it was completely dark. Slowly she closed the door behind her, even being careful to not let the latch click as the door came to a rest in its frame. For a few moments she waited, letting her eyes adjust, before moving in.

Hammer firmly in hand, she crept forward, ready for anything. She could tell the door to the bedroom was open, so clearly someone had to have been here, as she always closed the door behind her. She also thought she always locked the door, too, so perhaps she was jumping at shadows. Her train of thought was halted, however, as she heard what had to be the sound of breathing in the other room. Whoever it was, she would need to proceed carefully. The last thing she wanted to do was terrify some kid who just wanted shelter for the night. Whoever it was knew how to work the air cooler, though, as it had clearly been in use overnight.

Ever so slowly Kirui poked her head around the corner, first surveying the left side just in case, then the right where the breathing was loudest. There, barely illuminated by sunlight bleeding through the gaps around the edges of the curtain, were a pair of very familiar Miqo’te, wrapped up with one another in a blanket, clearly not dressed and very much oblivious to the world. She held in her sigh of relief, lowering the hammer she hadn't even realized she had raised.

In truth this wasn't the first time she had walked in on Ryune, or at least the aftermath of a sex-filled night. This was a pleasant sight, at least, she mused as she looked at their faces in the dim light. She didn't have much reference for M’naago, but she looked rather content with herself. Ryune, on the other hand, seemed to have gotten her face stuck in a smile overnight, as, buried in M'naago's neck and hair as she was, Kirui could see the upturned corner of Ryune's lips peaking out. If anything, they looked adorable. Part of her wondered what it might feel like to be between them, all warm and safe, but those were thought for another time.

Just as quietly as she had come, Kirui retraced her steps back to the entry door, opening it and slipper herself back outside before they were any the wiser. Putting her hammer back in its tool loop, she finally let out a big sigh, unable to hold in a giggle as the tension left her. For a moment she Contemplated knocking on the door, but she decided to let them have a few more moments of rest first. Spotting the same old chairs under the awning that had been there since what seemed like the previous era, she went to take a seat as she and other had many times during the renovation.

It had to have been fine craftsmanship to last out in the elements as long as this furniture had, but all material things give out with enough time, and the chair Kirui sat in was no different. The moment her weight rested fully in it, the snap of the rear legs breaking shocked her out of her thoughts. In a desperate attempt to stop her fall, a flailing leg caught the nearby supporting pole for the awning above, sending the entire structure down to the ground, and on top of her. The calamitous crash caused the townsfolk below to look up at the commotion, some pointing up at where the awning had once been.

Slightly dazed and disoriented, she clawed at the fabric, popping her head out from the edge closest to the door she had so carefully just closed. She laid her head back, her view now upside down, looking at that same door which now flew open, a fully bare Ryune ready in a combat stance revealed in its place, the sleep very much not yet removed from her eyes. Behind her was M’naago, clinging to the blanket she had hastily wrapped around her with one hand, a metal pan ready in the other. They both immediately lowered their guards as they spotted her in the mess of her own creation.

Kirui wracked her brain for something clever to say, anything at all, but all that came out was a meek, “Hey.”

“Kirui!” Ryune exclaimed as she rushed over, apparently immune to embarrassment, especially when someone she cared about was down on the ground and possibly injured. “Are you alright? What happened?” She asked as she removed the remains of the awning from her, quickly checking her over visually.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just…fell.” She said sheepishly. Kirui was unphased by Ryune’s lack of  clothes; she had seen her like this too many times before to be even a little surprised. She took Ryune’s proffered hand to help her up, trying not to look down at the people who most certainly were still looking. “Thanks.”

“Ryune.” M’naago spoke from the door, her voice like one of a concerned parent. “Clothes!” She waved her arm in front of her, accentuating her point.

“It's fine, they can’t see anything from down there anyway.” Ryune said, instead giving Kirui a hug before leading her by the hand. Before they got to the door, though, Ryune cupped her free hand to her mouth and called back over her shoulder. “Don’t worry! My friend fell! It’s fine!” Somehow this didn’t help Kirui’s embarrassment.

Kirui just sighed, resigned to the consequences of her actions. So much effort to not wake them up tossed away because she didn’t look before she sat. She hoped no one would be too upset. She would just have to offer to replace the broken furniture if they were. While she had no intention of hiding her earlier intrusion and extraction from them, the tale would certainly have an extra layer of irony after such a rude awakening.

[owlswritingcafe]

♠ All Tied up with no Loose Ends ♠ (Fully GN Edition)

Kinks/CW: Dominance switching, tying up (friend), toys (both), Teasing, overstimulation, blindfolded (friend), slight body worship

Reader type: No pronouns, No body parts described

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You had just gotten back home from work, despite a shorter than usual day, you were quite tired. However, the usual smug face of your friend was nowhere to be seen. Wherever could he have gone?

A/N: This is for the @stnaf-vn contest! I,,,, did not have enough energy to write a completely new fic, so I did a revamped version of the friend kinktober fic i did last month. The changes I did weren’t too big, I took out any body part mentions and added a tiny aftercare moment at the end.

Today was a very exciting day for you.

You’ve just gotten out of a long day of work and you asked Friend if he could do a little something for you once you get home. You opted to walk home today so you can stretch out your legs for a much needed walk. God knows what sitting hunched over for almost 4 hours straight does to your back, let alone your legs.

The walk home was rather relaxing, a much needed stretch after today’s workload. Speaking of, it was oddly nice of your boss to have cut your work hour by half for the day.

Just enough time for something you and Friend planned for tonight.

You open the apartment door only to be greeted with… Nothing.

The home was dark and you could almost hear a pin drop in this silence, even the birds or raccoons outside weren't making a peep. Turning on the light, everything seems to be in proper order, nothing is ruffled up nor was there even a speck of dust in the place. Strange for Friend to not greet you as usual.

Perhaps, he is downstairs?

Opening the door to the basement, you hear a few shuffles just a bit further down the basement. Watching your step as you go down, you can hear the noise start to get a bit louder and more erratic as you get close to its source.

Now in the center of the room, you turn on the room’s light to reveal…

Friend.

Tied up, blindfolded, and fully erect ontop of the bed (the cherry on top was the bullet vibrator that was wrapped around his twitching cock).

Sitting down on the bed, the sudden dip in the bed caused Friend to jolt up a bit in surprise.

“S-Sweetheart, is that you?” You smiled, Friend was just so cute… You gently caressed Friend’s blindfolded face, causing a shiver to crawl its way up your tied up friend’s spine.

“Yup. I finished work a bit earlier than usual,” Your hand traveled downwards, caressing Friend’s bare chest and teasing his nipple on the way down. The moment you teased his sensitive nipple, it was like something snapped inside him, ropes of thick cum shot from his hard cock and onto his bare stomach.

You tsked, and he was doing so well…

“Aw, Friend, you were doing so well for me these past couple hours… What a naughty boy, just cumming from a simple touch.” Friend whined in response. How cute…

“Sweetheart puh-please… I need you!” You press your index finger against his lips, shutting him up immediately, as if taming a whining dog, and removed the bullet vibrator.

“No, no, no~ I can’t reward someone who didn’t keep their end of the promise.” Your smile only widened as Friend started to squirm against you and the restraints. “But. You made it this far, so maybe a little treat is okay once in a while.” You giggled as you got up and opened one of the nearby drawers and retrieved a good sized suction-cup dildo. Placing the toy on top of Friend’s abdomen, just above the poor man’s hardened cock, you made sure to remove his blindfold so he could see every little thing of what you were doing. Friend’s eyes slowly adjusted to the light of the room and was greeted with the sight of you sucking on the toy, inches away from his neglected cock.

“Please.. Please just, touch me…” Every whimper that escaped his drool ridden lips fed the little monster inside you that loved seeing him so cute and begging you for more. You almost wanted to give into his demands.

Almost.

You continued sucking the toy as Friend watched, his body squirming and wanting you to properly touch him already. You gave the toy a few more teasing licks, making sure Friend’s eyes were on you as you licked from the base of the toy and glide your tongue to the blunt tip of the toy. Typically, you prefer Friend over a toy like this, but, this was supposed to be more of a punishment for him.

Sitting up, you remove the annoyingly constricting work clothes you had on and sat yourself on top of Friend, feeling the suction cup toy bump against your ass. You spread your legs wider, giving Friend an unfiltered view of your delicious body, the bound blonde involuntarily moaned at the sight of you. Everything about you was almost ethereal to him, as if there was a God before his very eyes that he just needed to worship right then and there. You watched with hungry eyes as Friend did the same with you, taking in every ounce of your body as if he was a dying man in a desert and your body was an oasis in his time of need.

Lifting yourself upwards, you tease the tip of the toy against your hole, making sure Friend sees every part of you, taking the toy instead of his aching cock.

“Fuck, please. I want to be inside you sooo bad… I don’t know how long I’m going to last.” You hummed as Friend continued to whine like a pup who didn’t get what he wanted.

“Well. Maybe you should have thought ahead before breaking your promise, darling~” Friend bit his lip as he watched you go oh so slowly up and down the toy, it was absolutely agonizing for him (and you, but watching him attempt to hold himself back was totally worth it).

You could feel Friend squirm as you continue to thrust the toy into yourself. As you continued to get yourself off, you almost didn’t hear the little growl from the tied up man.

“S…Sweetheart. What color?” Looking down, you could see Friend’s gaze. But there was something in his eyes, something telling you he wasn’t just hungry.

He was starving.

A devious little smirk made its way onto your lips, you really did have him wrapped around your finger.

“Green, darling.” The moment those words escaped your lips, Friend tore right through his bindings as if they were paper. A part of you felt annoyed, those knots took you forever to tie…

Suddenly, you were on your back, the tables have turned.

The blond took the toy out, careful not to hurt you in the process, before you could whine at the empty feeling inside you, Friend filled you to the brim with his hard cock. You felt Friend slowly thrust inside you, making sure you could better adjust to his size.

“Fuck, look at you, Sweetheart. You were all high and mighty before, and now look at you…” But you could barely understand what he was saying as you left scratches against his back. “I could just eat you right up… In every way possible.” You felt Friend’s tongue travel from your collarbone to the tip of your jaw.

You could feel your core tighten. Friend cupped your face, prodding at your soft lips with his thumb, a silent order to suck. You allowed, and let the blond’s finger explore your mouth. Friend’s thumb pressed down on your tongue, opening your mouth and showing him your drooling, fucked out face to which Friend’s smirk only widened.

Removing his thumb from your mouth, his hand drifted downwards and caressed your body as his hand finally reached its destination, you could feel your body shiver in anticipation. Much like with Friend, the moment his fingers started to caress you, the tension inside you snapped. Even through your orgasm, Friend continued his actions to your sensitive sex, he let out a dark chuckle as you gripped onto his arm tightly from the overstimulation.

“So cute… You can dish it out, but can’t handle the same treatment.” Friend pepper kisses all over your drool ridden face. “Let me show you exactly how I wanted it.” Friend’s pace became much more erratic as he continued to stimulate your sex.

Honestly, with how this is going, you’re probably going to be up all night. It’s a good thing you don’t have to work tomorrow. You’re probably going to be sore for the rest of the week at this rate.

—————————————————————————————

You laid on the bed with Friend, his head on your chest. You can hear Friend’s soft snoring as you two laid in bed, you admired his face as he slept. Honestly, he doesn’t even have to try to be able to tug at your heart strings.

He’s the one who has you wrapped around his fingers.

[koolkat9]

GerFra Week 2022: Day 2

@gerfraweek

Prompt: Political / EU themed || Teasing

Rating: T

Pairing: GerFra

Word Count: 534

Read on AO3

Just a Few More Minutes

It was Ludwig and Francis’s first meeting as a couple. Everyone had been well aware of their feelings long before they had confessed to each other, so hopefully, the other EU nations wouldn’t make a big deal out of it when everyone arrived. That didn’t stop Ludwig from being nervous.

When Ludwig entered the conference room, he was surprised to see Francis had arrived early. He was about to praise his lover for their initiative until he saw that Francis had switched their name tag with Emma so that they were sitting next to Ludwig instead of her.

“F-Francis, you can’t just change seats,” Ludwig stumbled despite trying to hold onto his air of authority.

Francis smirked. “You and I both know those ‘assigned seats’ are meaningless. Only you seem particular about maintaining them. We’re all friends here, so this isn’t a matter of keeping the peace. Come on Ludwig, is it too much to ask to sit next to my lover?”

Logically, Ludwig knew he should protest. Assigned seats were a sign of order, and if they lost this, what else could be lost and give way to chaos? But the way Francis looked at him, his brain short-circuited.

“What? Are you worried you’d be too distracted by my beauty to get work done?”

“N-Nein…I-I-I just…”

“Then it shouldn’t be too much trouble,” Francis mused, flipping his hair.

With a defeated sigh, Ludwig took his seat and began organizing his papers. He heard the skirt of Francis’s chair and the woosh and clicks as they moved around. Ludwig tried to remain focused on his papers.

“You work too hard,” Francis bemoaned, placing his hands on Ludwig’s stiff shoulders that only stiffened more with the touch. Francis began to knead into the tense muscles until they finally relaxed before moving to another knotted area. “And even if I do distract you, you deserve to take a load off for once. Have others step up instead of always letting the weight fall onto you.”

If Ludwig was honest, that sounded nice. But that pesky amalgamation of anxiety and perfectionism that was always whispering in his ear reared its ugly head.

“Hey, we’ve got a few minutes,” Francis whispered against his ear. It was as if they read his mind. “Just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Ludwig licked his lips, it was as if flames were expanding under his skin with each motion of Francis’s hands. They had always had such a wonderful way with their hands. He let his eyes flutter closed, focusing only on where Francis’s hands met his clothed body.

He was so focused on Francis’s touch that he didn’t hear the door open, or the shuffling of multiple pairs of feet. Not even the shush Francis gave to the intruders seemed to reach Ludwig.

Francis’s voice, however, roused Ludwig, but not enough for him to catch each word or remind himself where he was. “Just–longer–we’ll begin–”

Ludwig wasn’t sure what was happening, but for once, he wasn’t worried about it. Francis was there. Even though Francis didn’t seem serious about most things, he knew they wouldn’t let any harm come to him if he let go, just for a few minutes.

[elenavr13]

More Than Mistakes

Engineer Mark x Captain

Warning: None

*After events of ISWM*

*Playlist: Do You Still Love Me Like You Used To? – MISSIO/ To the Universe- MISSIO/ Two- Sleeping At Last/ Sorrow- Sleeping At Last*

*After an eternity of suffering & sorrow, the understanding that that torment is finally over seems too good to be true.*

Y/N’S POV

           There it is the planet we set out for, right through the glass. It is breathtaking. Was it worth going through an eternity of hell to get to? No, but at this moment, god, it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

           Mark’s voice pulls me from the astronomical spectacle. “The trip was smooth, just a few rocks, couple cosmic rays, nothing the computer couldn’t handle on its own.” I place my hand against the window & lean forward, taking in every detail of the planet including its two moons.

           “Acknowledged,” the computer concedes. “All systems are fully operational. All crew accounted for. Disembarkation under way.” I can’t believe this is happening. Everything is perfectly laid out –almost too perfect.

           “She is a beauty; isn’t she, Captain? The long range scans did not do her justice, perfect in almost every way. We’ll still have to do top to bottom scans once we’re down on the surface but we’re moving equipment as fast as we can.” Shuttles leave the docking bay & fly to the planet’s surface. “The crew is eager to get off the ship & onto solid ground. I think you can understand the sentiment. &, uh, thank you for…uh…not giving up on me. Just…thank you.” Mark’s words suspend me over a ledge of sorrow & remorse. I manage to keep myself composed by turning my attention back to the planet, lifting the mug he gave me to my lips, & sipping the warm beverage. At this point, the remaining crew exited the bridge leaving me & Mark alone. “Computer, lock the door to the bridge.” He orders. Curious as to what he is going to do, my eyes return to him.

           “Bridge door locked.” The computer announces. Mark takes a deep breath & shuffles backwards to the control console where he slides down to the floor.

           “It’s over.” He chokes out, closing his eyes in the process. “It’s finally over. W-we made it.” I place my drink on the console & settle next to my friend. Because he doesn’t immediately shove me away or anything like that, I rest my head on his shoulder. He tenses for a second but eventually gives in & relaxes. We sit there on the floor, staring at the gorgeous sight for a few seconds before Mark begins to sniff. As I lift my head, he pulls his legs close to his chest. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’m sorry for everything.” He suddenly dissolves into tears.

           “Mark,” I try.

           “It’s all my fault. Not only did I destroy the universe, I hurt you. I yelled at you. I blamed you. I… I… I ruined everything. Why are you even still here? You should hate me.” He begins hiccuping between his words. My heart aches seeing him like this. Even though I made my own fair share of poor choices, I can’t comprehend the guilt weighing Mark down. Desperate to alleviate some of that crushing weight, I pull him into a tight hug to which he crumbles into.

           “Mark, I don’t hate you. You didn’t know…” He lifts his head from my shoulder.

           “But I…Captain, I…”

           I hold his tear-stained cheeks in my hands. “I forgive you.” His coffee brown eyes reflect the planet & stars in front of us as he focuses on my own e/c pair. “I’m sorry it had to be you. If I could change it, I would take the blame so you don’t have to live with the guilt. You were tired & scared. I understand that. You did things that you regret but you’re still my friend. Mark, I forgive you.” After a small heave, he re-wraps his arms around my torso & tucks his head in the crook of my neck. Tears of sympathy & regret run down my own cheeks as I cling onto my partner. My fingers gently tangle in his hair as I recall my encounters with the alternate Marks. He doesn’t deserve this; he was just trying to help. He was always trying to do his best even from the beginning. How long ago was that? I can’t even remember when it all fell apart…

           Eventually Mark’s sobs diminish. “I’m really…hic…sorry I gave…hic…up on you.” The heat of his breath penetrates the fabric of my turtleneck.

           “No you didn’t.” I mumble into his hair.

           “But…hic…but I did.” His hold on me tightens.

           “You know, I met an older version of you. He thought the same things you did.” My companion falls silent with an occasional hitch of breath. “Thing is, he was the one who told me to stop you from sending the warp core back. Without him –without you– we wouldn’t be here at our destination. Mark, you never actually gave up on me.” I back away from him just enough to see his face. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t always there for you but I am now. Please don’t resign yourself. I don’t hate you; I never have. You mean everything to me. Without you, I…” I trail off as flashbacks of the times I didn’t treat Mark much better replay in my mind. My gaze falls to the floor. “Without you, I would have given up.” A beat later he leans forward, closing the gap between us.

           “But you didn’t.” He says as he pulls away. My eyes widen in surprise which causes a smile to form on his face, defining his features. “I was going to wait till we got to the surface but I guess things happened & well…” A small chuckle escapes his lips, bringing a smile to my own face. “I planned that even before leaving Earth. It was to make up for all your teasing.” We share a laugh –the first of many after the events of the wormhole.

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

           We begin sending troops to scout the land for a place to begin colonization & for any potential threat. I demand that Mark & I accompany those venturing to the new land –anything to get off this cursed ship. I don’t ask Mark but I know he will be just as grateful as I am. Had this been any ordinary mission, I would have stayed back or made Mark stay back to keep the ship in order but alas, this is no ordinary mission. That being said, I still have to put someone in charge so I choose my first mate, Tyler, who gladly accepts.

           Once on the surface, we explore a fair amount of land. For the most part, it is a lot like Earth with a few perks & a couple setbacks. Some of the perks are that a great quantity of the vegetation is edible, the majority of the water is fresh water instead of salt water, & the scenery is gorgeous. Every now & then, we run into hostile creatures but that is expected as we are the aliens on this planet. We also get caught in a harsh, electrical storm that ruins some of the supplies we brought. Luckily, nothing that is crucial to the mission got damaged. Despite the unfamiliar territory, weather, & fauna, everyone manages to escape serious harm. This place is so perfect for the colony that it almost makes up for the grueling torment caused by the wormhole –almost.

           Turns out, a decent amount of the crew remember some of the events that took place from the wormhole but just play it off as a weird dream from cryosleep. You’re not supposed to be able to dream while in cryo-sleep but when basically everyone including the cryo lead herself has these fragmented memories that are unexplainable, they are assumed to be dreams. Mark & I are the only ones who really remember & know the truth of what happened.

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

 *a week after ISWM*

           The gentle breeze lifts & tugs at the tents’ fabric as I walk by each one to my own. Before I reach mine, however, I check the fire pit to see Mark poking at the orange flame with a stick. The night-watch is supposed to rotate through the crew but Mark stands watch most nights, taking over even when it isn’t his turn. Tonight is his third night in a row. It concerns me to see my best friend not taking care of himself.

           “Hey, Mark,” I say, sitting next to him.

           He doesn’t look up from the fire, “Hey, Captain”.

           “The nights are sure pretty here.” He hums in agreement, acknowledging me but dismissing my statement. Something is on his mind & it is upsetting him. I scoot closer to him & take his hand in mine. “What is it?” He rests his head on my shoulder.

           “What if it’s not over? What if this is just another universe? Aren’t you afraid of waking back up in your cryo pod to find that it was all some ruse?” His thumb caresses the back of my hand.

           “Every night but I don’t think it’s worth fretting over, at least not right now. I mean, we’re finally here & it’s better than we ever imagined. After everything we’ve been through, we deserve a break.” He nods against my shoulder. “Even if it’s not over, risking it all might not be a bad thing. At least here we can be happy…even if it’s just for a moment. It’s those ones that really, really matter.”

           “Then can we stay here a little longer?”

           “Of course, we’ll stay as long as you need.” My lips come into contact with the crown of his head for a lingering second. “Can you promise me something?” He sleepily hums in response. “Take care of yourself & if not for you, for me.” I know, it’s hypocritical to encourage others to take care of themselves when you yourself don’t but I figure once the colony is more settled & my friends are happy, I can get around to fixing myself too.

           “I just don’t want anything else to go wrong.”

           “That’s why I’m here & our fantastic crew too. You can’t take everything into your own hands. You need to let others take the reins as well.”

           He sighs deeply. “I wish I could. I just…” He lifts his head & rubs his face with his free hand. “I’m so tired but I’m terrified to sleep. I try but keep falling through that damn wormhole every time I close my eyes. It’s like it’s not over.” His grip on my hand tightens ever so slightly.

           “I understand.” He begins tracing the lines in my palm. Luckily it is my right hand which doesn’t have a huge scar in it. I don’t want to worry Mark more than he does himself especially because it was caused from his actions. “You’re always welcome to stay with me. I don’t mind & if you wake up from another nightmare, I’ll be there to calm you.” With a lazy bob of his head, he accepts. “Come on, I’ll find someone to take over your shift.” He clings onto my arm as we travel through the base.

[norahjakobs]

Hittin ya right back w/ #1-15 for the fanfic ask :D

Thank you Randy! I just realized I have no clue how to do a read more on mobile so I'm gonna make that everyone else's problem.

Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

Daydreaming is one of my bigger pad times to be honest, so generally a lot of that happens before words hit the page.

Where do you get your fic ideas?

My brain just comes up with random stuff most of the time. Or I'll see an interesting concept and want to explore it. I did make a random idea generator for myself but haven't really used it

Do you share your fic ideas, or do you keep them to yourself?

I mostly keep them to myself or talk to my twin about them. Maybe I'll start sharing them more, I'd like to do that

How do you choose which fics to write?

How many wips do you have? What fandoms/pairings are they for?

I honestly have no idea so I'll just talk about my two dc wips in currently thinking about.

1st is a rewrite of a fan fic I wrote years ago, it's a mystery where after the murder of the Joker the batfamily start getting picked off one by one. It was based off the idea of what if in the Batman who laughed universe someone else had killed the Joker. In the original fic the killer was Jason but I might change that to preserve the mystery, I don't know (dm Randy if you want to know)

2nd is a loose idea following Zach Zatara waking up after a bender to find nobody knows who the Zatara's are and his attempts to set things right without much help.

Neither is focused on shipping or had any planned ships currently. I might sneak me and @kitty-does-stuff's crack ship of Zach x Thad into the 2nd one, idk

What’s the last line you wrote?

It somehow made his wary appearance look better, like he had at least been around somebody who took the effort to show him the most basic of kindness

from a deep dive into Zach's issues focused fic I was writing before leaving the apartment.

Post a snippet from a wip.

From the same Zach fic

Kate twirled, her hand in his as he led the dance. She had a wide grin on her face. Her crimson skirt softly hit his outer thigh as she stopped spinning. The music the DJ was playing slowed down crawling to the end of the song as the few that had stayed on the dance floor for so long started to shuffle off to head to the bathrooms or the doors.

The happy couple stayed on the floo a little longer than the rest, Kate resting her head on Zach’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming.”

Zach held her a little closer. “Of course, you don’t need to thank me for something like this, you know.”

“I know, I just know you don’t like how the adults stare at you.” Her classmates' parents and her teachers, most of them thought he was the one that got her pregnant. Thought he was some sort of child star tempter pulling Kate into hedonism and pre-marital sex.

“That’s their problem, I’m not gonna ever make you dance alone, got that?” He winked.

“Got it.” She giggled.

Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip.

For the rewrite fic (The Last Laugh)

Only someone in the core of the batfamily would know enough about Jean-Paul’s prior abuse enough to use it against them.

Does this word [chosen by asker] appear in your current wip?

Skipping this!

Do you work on multiple wips or stick to one fic at a time?

If I do not have a million projects at one time assume that I am dead

Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

Almost exclusively in order. Maybe if it's a flashback I'll write it first, but I really struggle if I don't know exactly what has happened before a scene

Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines? How far do you stray from them?

I do most of the time, a pretty loose one that just covers the most basic event of each chapter. I as far as I remember stick to the outline

Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

Nearly every project gets its own playlist as I need music to focus.

That Zach fic I shared a bit of is a song fic so here's the song

What is your favorite location and position to write in?

Sitting at my desk when I have that. Right now sitting in my truck seat is my only option but it's alright

What’s your favorite time to write?

Any time inspiration strikes which might be right after I wake up or could be at 10pm. When I do nanowrimo I try to write a lot earlier in the day so I don't stress

[writeformesinpie]

Late Night Assignment

CEO Jungkook x Fem!Reader 

Summary - Your boss asks you to stay late even though he knows you have a date. Things end up getting heated. 

Genre - Office AU/Smut 

Warnings - Smut, flirting, slight degradation and name calling, vaginal sex, nipple play, language, teasing, unprotected sex, cream pie, etc  

Word Count - 2.7k

Tag List - @kpoptrashlord-007 @justanotherstarlightmonger

A/N - Oops, this was meant to be posted for Jungkook’s birthday - I’m only a couple of days late

    Desperate taps against the keyboard. Stolen glances at the computer's clock. A quick wave with a tight smile as your last coworker bids you farewell.

    You shouldn’t be here. It’s already too late. One more email and you’ll pack up.

    Nimble fingers glide across the table, one hand typing out your final salutation as the other digs into the drawer. Hooking a finger around the strap of your handbag, you press send and watch as your message disappears, on its way to another company, someone else’s problem.

    “There you are.”

    Your thumb hovers in front of the power button, your body leaning across the desk to reach it. Resisting the urge to run you instead take a deep breath of the office’s stale air. Closing your eyes tight, you compose yourself.

    “I wonder if you could help me figure out the Johnson case.”

    “The Johnson case?”

    Sitting back down you swivel in the black chair to face your boss. He’s smiling. Of course he’s smiling – he’s always smiling. His slicked back hair has loosened from the product he used this morning, his dark waves tumbling free to sweep across his face, giving him a more relaxed look.

    “Yeah, I need someone to bounce some ideas against.”

    “I can’t tonight. I told you I have a date.”

    “Oh?” There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes before his face stills into a frown. “Was that tonight?”

    He knows it’s tonight; you told him last week and you reminded him this morning that you needed to leave on time. Why is he acting like this now when just this morning he seemed so uninterested in the whole conversation? It’s just like him to change his mind at the last minute. Something tickles at the corner of his brain about the advertisement mere hours before the company is due to arrive for the scheduled presentation leaving destruction in his wake. Every hand on deck. Or worse, when much like tonight, he decides to change something right before you’re about to log out for the weekend.

    “Well, I’m sure he won’t mind waiting.”

    “Who said it was a he?”

    Jungkook gives you a onceover before letting his eyes focus on your face, his features tight and unforgiving. “I’m sure they won’t mind waiting.”

    “Are you seriously asking this of me right now?” There’s no point in asking, he’s already turning away, beckoning you with a flick of his wrist, not bothering to turn and see if you’re following. You punch the air a few times with tight balled fists before pulling out your phone and sending a message of sincere regret. The career you fought so hard to obtain is destroying your dating life. If you don’t leave this job soon you may very well end up a spinster.

    Dragging your feet, you take your time, dawdling towards Jungkook’s office. Pushing the door all the way open you waddle over to the furthest chair with a pout on your lips, resigning to sulk until he finally lets you go home. What a waste of a Friday night.

    “You don’t have to stay if you really don’t want to.” When you shoot up and take a step towards the door, he continues, “I guess I’ll just do it myself. All alone. It’ll take twice as long but that’s fine.”

    This time you give in to your inner urges, your eyes rolling so dramatically you’re afraid they might pop out of your skull. Shuffling closer you sit in the chair in front of his desk, grabbing the file and browsing its contents.

    “What do you need? It looks like everything is in order,” you say as you turn the last few pages. It looks like it’s been read at least fifty times, the pages creased with a few coffee stains littering the crisp white paper.

    “So what’s this date of yours like?”

    “Excuse me?”

    “What does he do? How long have you been talking?”

    Your knotted brows ease as you realise what this is all about. “Are you jealous?”

    “Jealous? Of course not,” he says leaning back, arms crossed in front of his chest as he snuggles into the plush chair. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not dating some loser.”

    “Oh? You’re worried about me?” you tease, a smirk adorning your lips.

    “Worried about the company. It’s inconvenient to have to deal with the mess that comes from a bad relationship. Or worse, a good one.”

    “What mess comes from a good relationship?”

    “Marriage. Taking time off from work for the honeymoon. Then children usually follow and that’s maternity leave. You might as well just be a stay-at-home mother at that point.”

    “What?” You laugh and shake your head. Is he being serious?

    “Kids are always getting sick. They carry viruses. They’re practically a walking disease. If you’re not taking off time for them you’ll be taking time off for yourself. Years of illnesses and for what?”

    “A life changing experience filled with joy, unconditional love and new life lessons?”

    “No. After 18 years–no, let's be serious, these days it’s well into the 20’s–after all that time and effort you put into raising and loving them they just up and leave. After all that sacrifice you are simply abandoned.”

    “That’s what the spouse is for.”

    “Unless they leave, too? Probably for a newer model.”

    “A newer model? What are we, cars?” Scrunching up your face, you lean over and pat him on the shoulder. “Who hurt you?”

    He looks from you to your hand (now rubbing his shoulder) then back to your face, his fierce eyes betraying his poker face. Dropping your hand, you ease onto the edge of his desk in an awkward attempt to make yourself look relaxed. Instead your skirt ends up tangling up under your butt, the fabric pulled tight against your thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. As you try to pull your skirt back down to an acceptable length in a nonchalant way you rock back and forth and end up knocking a stack of papers off of the desk.

    “Shit.”

    Jumping to the floor on your hands and knees, your arms flailing out in every direction, you scramble to collect the paperwork, jumbled in a puzzle of white. You have the worst luck. Jungkook clicks his teeth behind you as you mumble an apology and start the tedious process of piecing the piles back together.

    After a few moments, while wondering why Jungkook isn’t at least pretending to help, you sneak a look over your shoulder. Heat licks your cheeks and you snap your hand back around, pulling on your skirt. How could you be so stupid? The silky material of your skirt got caught up as you jumped to the floor exposing god only knows what to your boss. The way his eyes bore into yours with a distinct glimmer of lust makes you think he may have caught a glimpse of your lacy thong underneath.

    Scooping the last pile of paper together the heat of embarrassment spreads from your face to your core as you remember the look on his face. Raw. Animalistic. What is he thinking? It takes every ounce of your self respect not to turn and crawl towards him.

    The second hand ticks louder than before, bringing your attention to the large moon-shaped clock up on the wall. You’ve been here for only fifteen minutes yet it feels like an eternity.

    Standing you mutter, “Excuse me,” under your breath as you place the last stack back on the table. Refusing to look at him you instead hang your head as you continue, “Well, if that's all…”

    “You’re leaving already? But we haven’t even started.”

    “I think that’s enough humiliation for today,” you say, trudging towards the door.

    Before you can reach it however, you hear the familiar sound of paper plopping against the ground. With a snap of the neck you turn back towards Jungkook’s desk, your feet carrying you to the scene of the crime before you realise something. You were nowhere near the table when the new mishap happened and judging from Jungkook’s lazy grin as he continues to lean back in the office chair either was he.

    “Oops.”

    “Did you do that on purpose?” you ask from your half-squat position. Standing, you take a step back as he does the same, his steps quicker than your own, each stride bringing him closer until he is close enough to touch.

    “And what if I did?” His brow lifts on the last word as you back into the wall behind you. “Do you think I don’t notice your pitifully obvious attempts to catch my attention?”

    “What do you mean?” you practically scoff, turning your head to look away from him.

    “The slutty outfits.”

    “Slutty outfits! What outfits?”

    “The way you sashay around the office.”

    “We call that walking where I come from.”

    “The intoxicating perfume you adorn yourself with,” he says, his fingers twisting around your wrist to hold you in place as he leans close, his lips against your neck. “Every scent you wear is more exhilarating than the last.”

    His fingers dig into your flesh as he litters light kisses up your throat that leave a trail of fire against your skin, the rough and sweet a certain torture to your erratic heartbeat. A heartbeat that echoes under his very touch.

    This isn’t how you imagined him finally making his move. The slutty outfits, the tempting struts around the office, the scents. You had started to think he wasn’t interested. Who would’ve thought all it would take for him to notice was giving up?

    “Do you like it?”

    “Hmm?” His fingers entwine with yours above your head as he nibbles on your ear.

    “Today's perfume.”

    “I can’t get enough,” he says, a sly grin on his face as his fingers trace down the length of your arms. “You smell like spicy whipped cream. I want to take my time tasting every single inch of you but I can’t stand not having you another moment.”

    His teeth dig into your neck and you moan out from the pleasure and pain. Lifting you up he carries you over to his desk, leaning you against the edge as he shoves everything to the ground with a carnal growl. Papers flutter in the air and before you can fret about how long it’s going to take to get everything back in order your back knocks up against the cool mahogany wood beneath you.

    Agile fingers make quick work of your blouse. With a quick inhale of breath he takes a moment to drink you in as his hands explore your exposed skin. Your nipples perk up both due to his touch and the chilled breeze swirling down from the vent above Jungkook’s desk.

    “Is it always this cold here?”

    “I’ll warm you up,” he murmurs against your chest, one hand snaking under your skirt while the other cups your breast. While sucking on the supple skin, his fingers find your panties, damp and clinging to your throbbing cunt. His tongue glides across the rim of your nipple before rolling it gently between his teeth.

    Arching your back you grind your pussy against his fingers. Desperate for more you push against the constricting fabric as far as you can. He drags your lace thong down to your ankles and leaves them dangling on one foot as he turns his attention back to your core. His fingers trace messages against your clit as he continues to dine on your swollen breasts.

    “Stop teasing me, Kookie,” you moan the words, ignoring his raised brow as he kisses his way up the middle of your chest. “Just fuck me already.”

    “Patience is a virtue, beautiful.”

    “I don’t want to be virtuous,” you say, shifting back and forth under him. He pulls his fingers out from under your skirt and you let out a whine.

    “Suck,” he commands, his fingers hover in front of your mouth. Parting your lips he slips them inside. Your tongue glides against his digits a few times before you clamp down sucking on them like they’re an ice block. Almost as delicious. “Good girl.”

    Pulling them back he ignores your pout, shoving his hand back between your thighs. Biting your bottom lip you watch as he slips one of his fingers inside. Slow. Controlled. He has the power and he refuses to let it go. Not that you mind. You try to keep your eyes glued to his but by the time he slides in the third finger you’re writhing under his touch, the cool air from the vent no longer enough to keep the heat building between you at bay.

    “It’s okay, baby, you can come.”

    “No.”

    “No?”

    “No,” you sob, the pleasure continuing to build as he quickens the pace of his fingers. “No, I want you inside. I want to come with you.”

    He pulls out his fingers with a chuckle, the slick sound of your excitement quickly followed by the clinking sound of his belt buckle and the pull of his zipper. He stares down at you licking his fingers with a hum, his dick nuzzling up against your pussy before he pulls back. Before you can complain his lips are on yours, his hands in your hair pulling you closer. Bruising kisses follow tiny nips then his tongue dances along your lips before he pushes inside you, his full girth filling every inch of your cunt.

    “Oh my God,” you sputter out the words and it comes out distorted as he sucks on your bottom lip. He doesn’t give you time to adjust before he thrusts his hips against yours, his thick cock propelling deep within your tight walls.

    The musky smell of his sweat combined with the sweet aroma of his cologne fills the room as the sound of skin on skin rebounds off the walls. Sweat trickles down the back of your neck as his pace quickens. Raking your nails up the bulging muscles of his arms you toss your head back and forth unable to utter a word. Breathless.

    Savage hunger burns inside as you buck your hips up in time to meet his. Frantic desire fills you to the core, seeping out of every pore. It’s not enough. You want him to fill you more.

    “Don’t you dare stop,” you say, the words practically a growl from between clenched teeth. He smirks down at you but he doesn’t stop, instead his pace increases. He drills deep inside, each thrust eliciting a guttural moan.

    Curling toes and fingers digging into the taut flesh of his shoulders hint at your climax and somehow he hastens the velocity of his movements. You blink away tears as your body erupts into liquid fire, a demonic spark of pure ecstasy rippling waves of fire across your skin.

    You allow yourself to drown in the pleasure as your body jerks in unison with Jungkook’s soothing movements. His cock throbs and pulses inside of you, his body tensing as he cages you within. He rocks back and forth a few more times before he relaxes against you, pinning you under him. Panting you wrap your arm across his back and kiss his neck, the smell of his skin easing you back into a comfortable rhythm.

    “That was hot,” you purr against his ear, raking your fingers through his black waves. The mess on the floor catches your eyes and you make a move to get up.

    “Where do you think you’re going?” You motion towards the paperwork and office supplies scattered across the floor. “Leave it.”

    “It won’t take long to–”

    “It’ll just end up back on the floor again,” he says, his lips trailing across your neck down your throat.

    “Are you trying to fuck me until I can’t stand?”

    “I like the sound of that,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. He pushes his cock back inside with ease causing both his come and your previous arousal to drip down your cunt. “But don’t worry, I can carry you to my car when we’re done.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this content! If you did, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging and/or following, and check out my masterlist for similar content. Have a great day!

[robinsdearest]

Three Steps Back

Jason Todd x Reader

The Red Hood scoffed to himself as you bought your third coffee for the day. You were a creature of habit, and that made the vigilante’s job easier.

Jason frowned looking down at the manilla envelope and its contents spread around him, jotting down a few notes. Looking back down to your figure in the local coffee shop, Jason shivered. The rooftop was beginning to get uncomfortable and the weather was starting to grow too cold for surveillance. 

The Red Hood had been following you for weeks at this point. He had your name in a folder with all personal identifying information to be found. Oddly weird things about you that no normal human would ever be able to know- including what looks to be the exact coffee order you preferred. The Bat could be useful sometimes, he did have to admit. 

From the coffee shop, you walked several store fronts north until reaching the corner store. You reached into your pocket to pull free a set of keys. Unlocking the door, you disappeared from his line of sight. You’d be in this building for the next several hours. Jason sat back on his heels.

The building across the street from your floral shop was perfect cover for recon: Hood could watch your daily routine without disturbance. It’s also a short distance to your apartment a couple blocks west. You could have possibly been the easiest target the Red Hood has ever had on his list. 

Jason gathered his items and notes, twisted around, and begun to jump building to building to return to his own apartment. 

It had been several months since Jason’s return from the Lazarus Pit. Although he amended (with the word used loosely) his relationship with Bruce and the subsequent caped crusaders, Hood was still walking on thin ice. He remembers the look of disgust on Dick’s usually smiling face when Jason had asked for a folder containing your information. Alfred might have been the only one to showcase his enjoyment of Jason’s rebirth. He remembered what he thought to be everything before the explosion that killed him. Jason had thought he was taking two steps forward with these people. He did admit to himself that he had been working some odd end jobs, working down lists given to him by mercenaries who paid well. Things he knew the rest of the family did not agree with. 

You, however, remained at the top of a different list. This mission was not for amendments or money. This hit needed to be smooth and seamless- Jason needed answers. He didn’t remember where you fit in this picture.

A few hours later, Jason returned to his perch. Right on schedule, you were locking the door of your shop. It was well past dusk, and it was about the time you looped home, picking up carry-out along the way. 

Red Hood turned west to head to your apartment like you normally did. He got a few strides along the top platforms before he halted: you had gone the opposite direction. 

Odd. Creatures of habits should stick to habits. 

Jason turned on his heel to sprint in order to catch up. As you came closer into view, you had changed your clothes, your wool blazer much nicer than the leather jacket you wore earlier; you held a small bouquet of an assortment of red flowers in your gloved hands, your shoulder bag bumping your leg as you walked forward; you walked slow, your face a touch pink- from crying or from weather, Jason could not tell. 

He followed you for a few more blocks before you reached a small movie theater. Jason ducked into an alley. The night was too clear, and the masked man needed a better view of your actions. 

A man had caught your attention, pulling you into a hug with a hand lingering too long on your hip. A twinge of jealousy shocked Jason’s heart, catching him off guard. He shuffled anxiously as he watched the two of you interacting. 

“Come on, my man.” Jason whispered to himself. “Who the hell are you?”

As if the gods pitied him, Jason’s rhetorical question was answered.

You turned to gesture back in the direction of your flower shop, revealing the man’s face to the Red Hood.

Jason’s breath caught in his throat.

What on earth was Dick doing with you?

His mind raced, but Jason needed answers. He was getting impatient. 

Jason whistled: three short trills followed by a single long trill. 

Dick’s head snapped immediately towards the direction of the alley. Jason coyly waved a two finger salute before shuffling backwards. He knew Dick wouldn’t bring you. 

When Dick rounded the corner of the first building, Jason tossed a small pebble from the fire escape, hitting the older man on the top of the head. Dick angrily shot a glance but refused to look at Jason directly. Jason hopped down back to the ground.

“Circus bird.” Jason teased, but Dick only grunted in response. Very short for a man who seemed so happy a few moments ago. “What are you doing here?”

“Movie date, obviously.” Dick kept an eye over his shoulder checking the entrance to the alley. 

Jason chuckled, leaning against the cool brick. “Wonderful, boy wonder. However, you’re cutting into my job. I need you to abandon this date and move on.”

Dick reared his head and flashed a snarl towards Jason. Dick pushed his brother by the chest. “A job? You are the one that needs to get out of here.” Dick tried to keep his voice even but his anger was apparent. “Leave before you’re spotted.”

Jason knocked on his helmet. “People know who I am.”

“Not everyone.”

Jason had a retort to validate his infamy when a figure appeared behind Dick. 

Dammit.

“Dick? Are you okay?” You called out. 

Dick ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, babe. I’ll be right there.”

“Babe?” The words left Jason’s mouth before he registered they were even spoken. 

You walked up to Dick, threading your arm through his and tugging him backwards.

“Dick, come one, this is dangerous.” You eyed the Red Hood intently. 

Jason had never been in such close proximity to you. You were breathtaking. He couldn’t let you leave now without the job being completed.

“You’re right, let’s go.” The duo turned to leave, yet Jason couldn’t help himself. 

Jason found himself yelling after you. “Forget you, Dick.” The pair spun back to look at him. Jason pointed at you. 

“Do you know who I am?” Jason shouted, causing you to flinch and hide behind Dick who swung a protective arm behind him. The lack of answers pushed Jason further. Time to get bold. He continued. 

“I’m pretty sure you do, sweetheart. I need to know why I have terabytes of information on you. I have photos and information time stamped years ago with your name and face. Shit, your face is even on my phone. Who are you?”

Dick took several steps forward. He gritted his teeth as he spoke to the man with the helmet. “Jason, you and I need to speak about this later. Not now.” 

You looked like you were holding back tears- the bouquet of flowers you previously held hit the ground. You spoke quickly. “Jason? Like my Jason? What are you talking about?” 

You were obviously scared, frightened, and just as confused as Jason. What did you mean by “mine?”

Questions answered by more questions- this is not how Jason needed this job to end. Dick was ruining it all. 

The photos in his phone showed you, much younger and much more intimate than Jason would ever admit. There were hundreds of photos of you doing mundane things. Jason thought up until this moment you were a job left unfinished. His head was spinning and he couldn’t get a deep breath. Why is he suddenly feeling like this? What effect do you have on him?

Jason ripped the helmet off his head, revealing his face to you for what he thought was the first time. He was sure he heard you gasp, but still nonetheless, Jason drew his weapon. He held it steadily as Dick acted as your shield. Another twist of jealousy in Jason’s gut- he gripped the gun a little harder as anger flared.

“Move, Dickie-Bird.”

“Listen to me, Jason!” Dick started to yell. “You remember everything about your previous life except for this.” The older man gestured between the trio.

You suddenly fell to the ground, and Dick crouched to check on you. Jason’s hands were shaking as he lowered his gun. 

“It’s Jason? He remembers everything but me?” You whispered, your soft voice carrying just far enough for Jason to hear. 

The terror that cleaved its way into Jason’s bones was a new sensation, and it forced the man to his own knees.  You were sobbing into Dick’s shoulders, echoing off the brick walls of the alley. Jason wanted nothing more than to comfort you, a strange sense of familiarity. 

Jason wanted to scream; this was all too confusing. He knew he had lapses in his memory, but nothing like these whole sections cut out. How could he experience these feelings with you but not know who you are? 

He roared back. “What the hell is going on? How do you know me?” 

“You two were dating, you insufferable idiot.” Dick spat. 

The coffee order. The seemingly unobtainable information Bruce had on you was not pure coincidence. The look on Dick’s face in the cave. Jason had taken the photos on his phone. The jealousy, the fear. 

He must have known you. 

Right?

So why can he not remember you?

[p0orbaby]

Goldilocks

a/n: another fluffy moment between reader and Wanda. Full request here

warnings: mentions of pregnancy symptoms and sexy times (no actual sexy times I’m afraid)

word count: 1k

-

Pregnancy is at times both a fascinating and confusing thing.

One's body is literally growing another human inside of them. The concept should be simple enough to get your head around, but every time you try to understand it, you just can’t fathom a child being inside of your wife. Well two children in her case.

Other than the obvious bodily changes, what comes along with pregnancy is the accommodations her body has to make in order to grow, house, nourish your children. But what they didn’t tell you was that she would then feel the effects of it in the most obscure ways.

Cravings were expected. However Wanda, who normally had a very large aversion to anything spicy, was now scarfing down whatever she could find that had a Scoville rating of over 350,000. Bland meals cease to exist in your house.

The increase in sex drive was a positive one. You’d had a bumpy start to the pregnancy to say the least and the prospect of being this intimate with your wife was only something you could dream of a few months ago. Yet now it was hard to see a future where Wanda didn’t jump your bones at any given moment.

The last thing was a little more abstract. Nowadays, it seemed that Wanda was never fully happy unless she was in your arms. Granted, not something you could complain about, but at times her proximity was a little bit unsettling.

-

“Wanda, honey, can you give me a couple of minutes? I’ll be out before you know it”

“Can’t you just open the door? You won’t even know I’m there”

“What’s wrong with just talking through the door? I’m only a few feet away”

“I miss you though”

“We’ve been with each other all day. How can you miss me?”

“Because you’re in there, and I’m out here, all alone”

Wanda was then met with the sound of running water and a shuffle behind the bathroom door, which opened not a moment later.

“And I’m back. See that didn’t take too long now, did it?”

All Wanda did was wrap her arms around you and tucked her face into your neck. It was all the answer you needed.

Looks like your lack of privacy has already begun.

-

For the most part, your wife was a very resilient woman. Confirmed by her enduring said pregnancy conundrums listed above with grace. So when one night she was unable to get comfortable in bed, you thought she was just on the receiving end of another tedious symptom she would persevere with.

Yet you’d later discover that her durability for handling some changes was wearing very thin.

You’d told her you would be coming to bed late because you had some work to do that needed sorting before the morning. It wasn’t a lie, it did need doing, however instead of sitting in bed with your laptop, you chose to use your office computer. The reason being you were less likely to disturb your wife if you were typing in a different room. Wanda didn’t question your choice of medium to complete the task. She just pouted and crept back into the bedroom alone.

The first set of knocks took you by surprise. A whole fifteen minutes of tossing and turning went by before Wanda came to find you. Apparently she was too warm under the duvet and asked if you could fetch her a thin blanket for her instead. A reasonable request you were willing to fulfill.

Moments later Wanda was situated under said blanket. now more satisfied with her current body temperature. You departed her with a soft kiss to her forehead and a promise you’ll be in soon.

And you weren’t wrong. You were back in the room soon enough. But not because you had finished what you were doing, but because Wanda’s body had decided to change its mind again.

Too cold this time.

You knew you shouldn’t laugh, but the face she presented you with after each meek knock on your office door was a sight to see. She must’ve felt guilty for disrupting you again.

The cover options had been exhausted, so the next best thing was to add more layers to her. A jumper and pair of socks, you almost suggested a hat but you didn’t think that would go down too well.

This time when you left the room, you kissed her on the lips and turned the lamp down low, making your way to your office once more.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. With no sound coming from the bedroom down the hallway you’d presumed your wife had drifted off.

That was your cue to pack your things away and head to bed yourself.

Padding down the hallway to the bedroom, you were careful to be quiet so as to not wake Wanda. With the restlessness she was experiencing tonight, it wouldn’t be favourable if you woke her by stomping through the house.

When you entered the room the lamp was still on. An indication she had been too tired to turn it off before she succumbed to sleep. A good sign.

Once you had removed your clothes, put your pajamas on and completed the rest of your routine as quietly as possible, you turned the lamp off and slid into bed.

You were just about to drift off when you felt movement next to you. Nothing out of the ordinary, so you paid it no heed to it. That was until you felt a finger poke your side.

“Are you awake?” A small voice asked from the other side of the bed.

“Mhmm”

“Can I have a cuddle?”

There was no need for a verbal response. Moving under the covers to meet your wife in the middle of the bed, you cradled her head and body in your arms. Hand caressing her bump, rubbing soft circles into the taut skin.

“You didn’t try to get to sleep did you?” Your tone wasn’t ridiculing. If anything you found the whole thing quite amusing.

“I can’t sleep when you’re not next to me” Wanda’s response was quiet and sleepy.

It didn’t take long for her to actually fall asleep this time.

[starshipsofstarlord]

💕 shaving kink. I can't believe that even something as simple as shaving can cause so much horny 😩 There can be anything here. His girl is just there only watching his shave, she asks him to shave him, Bucky asks her to shave him etc

𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔

Summary: based on the request

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: smut, cockwarming, creampie, unprotected sex, further implied smut, mentions of death, fluff

Word Count: 1333

Masterlist Link

The mirror implied everything that he was about to do as he slathered shaving cream onto the bottom half of his face, over his beard that had grown out a decent amount over the course of his last mission. Bucky wanted his face to look smooth and clean, he usually allowed his stubble to grow a little, but never too much. He knew that you were a fan of his rugged and disorganised appearance, not to mention the delicious burn that would scathe the inside of your thighs whenever he went to town to fulfil his appetite, which was practically the entire endurance of his free time outside of avenging. The pitter patter of your bare feet along the ground alerted him, allowing him to expect you to enter your shared bathroom; he saw your reflection walk until you were behind him, your body blocked from view as he continued to gaze forwards. Your arms interlocked around his waist, as a content smile tugged at his pink lips.

It felt like he could stay like this forever, trapped in the bliss of your tender embrace. A frown paved a shadow across his expression when you released him from your wrist touching clasp, enough it soon lightened as you reeled to the front of his visual perspective, and sat up on the countertop in front of the mirror. “You look good with a completely white beard.” Swiping your finger over the barrier of foam that coated the lower half of his face, you tapped it against his nose, to which he rubbed off on the back of his hand. “You’re so sexy.” Biting your lip, your eyes advanced to his hands, which grasped the blade that he was planning to use to scrape the applied shaving cream and follicles on his face out by their roots. Despite the modern age which supplied razors, it granted Bucky comfort to do things the old fashioned way. Though he still made an effort to learn about the various forms of technology, he still preferred the company and use of old cliches, such as record players and radios. They matched his tastes, which were as fine and timeless as wine. The slip of silver that he danced between the fence of his fingers raised, the blade between his pads as he jutted the handle to tap at the curve of your chin.

“Fancy shaving for me doll face?” The husky tone to his words caused your breath to clog in your throat, though you were certainly not going to decline the trustworthy offer. It made you swell with pride, that the man that had once been brainwashed into being a world renowned assassin, and a target on the government’s most wanted, had an endless abyss of faith in you. With certain hands, you plucked the possible weapon out from his grip, and into your own. It was light, and could do many things, like change Bucky’s face in multiple ways. “Try not to slit my throat, otherwise you’ll be the one left to clean that mess up.” He prematurely warned you, to which you gently kicked his shin, reducing the smug tendency off from his face.

“Shut up Barnes and let me do my job.” Was what you told him as you spread your legs further, so that there was room to accommodate him between them. And as expected, he shuffled closer, to which you responded by grabbing purchase upon his face, as you stroked a line with the sharp edge down his throat. You repeated the action a couple more times, cleaning the blade after each pursuit on the towel that was resting beside you. Bucky’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to cool himself, and not think about how attractive you appeared to him. He allowed you to carry in for a few minutes, until he got tired of just standing there, and began to tug at your shorts, causing you to stop your progress of shaving for him. “Quit trying to distract me Buck, otherwise you’ll have a massive scar from your lip to your jaw.” He simply sighed, rolling his eyes as he without conviction, pulled the material down, coercing you to squeal from subjected shock.

“Loosen up doll, or better yet, let me loosen you up.” He pushed his sweats down, causing his erection to slap up against his pebbled abs, though he frowned as you went to place the blade down. “Oh no, you’re multitasking baby, you’re gonna run that down my face as i stretch you out.” It was a risk, one that had you nervously gulping, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away. Instead he braced his hands upon your knees as he pushed into you, slowly pressing inch by inch into your heat, and leaving you to adjust a time that you would say was too long (no pun intended).

“Move.” Was your order, and Bucky simply tutted you, tapping the back of your hand, hinting that if you wanted him to do anything other than cockwarming, you’d have to finish your project. And thus you rasped the metal against the layer atop of his skin, and raked it down until you could see the smooth exterior of his flesh. It was difficult to diffuse all of your attention onto focusing on not causing Bucky to bleed, when all that your mind ran over was how full you felt from being stuffed by his hard dick. What made it significantly harder was when he began to move, to which your hands lightly shook. You were almost finished anyways, in concerns of removing all the hair from his face and staving off your high. It was a simultaneous struggle, and in the end, you allowed the blade to fall in the empty sink, as you clutched onto his taught shoulders.

And that, you giving up and surrendering to your primal desires made Bucky do the same. He thrust you back against the mirror as he leant and rested his hips against the edge of the bathroom unit. To anyone else that’d have been an uncomfortable position to be in, but the soldier just did, not care about that, nor the remnants of shaving foam that accessorised his complexion. He threw his vibranium hand against the mirror, smashing it behind you as his flesh hand grabbed your hip, rutting you against your abdomen, your clit getting stimulated by the fine hairs below his v line. The pair of you were drawing closer to the equivalent of your highs as your breaths laboured, and you rabidly found each other’s mouths, spearing your tongues alongside one another.

With one particularly harsh thrust you saw stars in your peripheral sight, and Bucky bucked against you, relishing and extending the bliss of his engaged orgasm. “I thought you wanted me to shave your face?” A breathy laugh fled from your lips as he remained inside of you, cocking your brow towards him. “We both knew how this was going to turn out doll.” He responded, grabbing the clean side of the shaving towel just as he was about to pull out from the lack of your cunt. “Though I actually have to finish shaving now.”

“Do you want me to help?” You lifted your hips as he pulled out, his cum leaking from your folds, as you reached down and inserted your fingers into your entrance, pushing his seed back inside of you. Bucky intently watched, licking his lips as he drank down his saliva, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, swirling his wet muscle around in the constrictions of your mouth, attempting to toy with your tonsils. “That sounds like a round two to me…” he suggested, making a part of you felt like you were never going to leave this bathroom, but by no means was that a complaint. You could stay in here until Bucky’s face was completely shaven, and that could be quite the while. Just as well you had plenty of free time.

Bucky Tags: @tylard-blog1 @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @kaitieskidmore1

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   tags/warnings: afab!reader, breakup sex, oral sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), a lot of tears— both sexy and sad, timeskip ofc

♡   —   a/n: my first long piece for tokyo revengers! and ofc my beloved draken had to be the first one <3

♡   —  masterlist

He shouldn’t have come.

That’s the first thing that comes to Draken’s mind when you pull away from his lips to take off your shirt. He’s already half-hard and his pants only get tighter at the sight of your bra right in front of him.

Less than ten minutes ago, he had been sitting on the same couch where he was lying now. Only you weren’t grinding your hips as you were now― your lower lip was trembling as you handed him one of his old sweaters you always used to wear.

He could have chosen to have this conversation any other place. You would have said yes to meeting at a café or strolling down the street. Yet he was the one that asked if he could come over and you were the one that agreed.

Your lips slid against his again, the kiss you shared rough, demanding, but mostly, needy. His skin burnt for you just as the first time he had you and he couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip, making a soft moan leave your lips. With his back on the couch and your hands slipping under his shirt, he could barely remember the reason he came to your place was to finally put an end to your tumultuous relationship.

Well, that and because he couldn’t bear not seeing you any longer.

You had seen this day coming long ago. You woke up one morning to the news of an assault on Draken’s motorcycle shop. No matter how many times you asked him, he never gave you any explanations, even if you were sure he was well aware of what had happened. Every time he got a call from his friends he would leave the room and talk in hushed whispers and he started coming up with more and more excuses to avoid spending time with you.

His gentle nature around you had turned harsh and cold with you ever since that day. Draken had remained silent when you asked him about his change of behaviour, and during one heated night where you had ended up yelling, asking if it was something you had done, he finally spoke, only to assure you you hadn’t done anything wrong.

In your search for answers, you reached out to his friends. But rather than that, what you found was even more questions than before. All of them got visibly uncomfortable when you approached them and it didn’t take much to understand they also knew what was happening but refused to talk about it. The only one who gave you a little more information was Chifuyu, during a late-night talk after his store had closed.

“Talk to him,” he advised, ordering the files from the day and avoiding your eyes.

“I tried, he won’t tell me what happened,” you sighed, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him work. “But this wasn’t a random attack, right? It was something personal. If it was random, then someone would have said so. But everyone just shut ups and gives me a pitying look.”

Chifuyu raises his eyes at you.

“Yeah, exactly that look”, you say, passing a hand through your hair.

“It’s… complicated,” he finally said, putting the files aside. “And not my place to talk to you about it. All I’m saying is everything Draken does is to protect you.”

“Yeah?” you huffed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “Treating someone badly and pushing them away is a way to protect them?”

Chifuyu gave you a sad smile. “Sometimes it can be.”

Even if you knew Chifuyu did his best to keep loyal to his friend while also trying to dissipate your worries, it hadn’t worked. You were sure any day from now Draken would break it off with you. And when you got a call from him asking to come over after almost a week of not seeing you, you understood the time had come.

The next time Draken came to his senses, he had his face buried between your legs. His nose brushed against your clit as his tongue was buried deep within you. The whimpers you were making were music to his ears. He swore he could recognize his name in between your cries a couple of times, but tried not to think much about it. He didn’t want to come to terms with the fact it may be the last time you would call for him like this.

Your legs closed against the sides of his head as you threw your head back in pleasure. Draken put one hand on your inner thigh and forced your legs open, eliciting a sweet gasp from you. He pulled away, the sight of your soaked pussy making his head spin. Fuck, was this really going to be the last time he got to have you like this? Draken slid two fingers across your folds, gathering wetness and then using it to circle your clit gently. He felt your leg twitching under his big hand.

If this was going to be the last time, then he was going to give you something to remember him by.

Draken bent down again and started pressing open-mouthed kisses on your folds. A soft hum escaped your lips as he worked his way around your pussy, making sure there wasn’t a part of it that wasn’t covered by his eager lips. He purposely left your clit for last, his hot breath hovering over it. Those few seconds were enough for you to lift your head, looking down at the man you had just agreed to let go.

His dark eyes met yours, widening just the slightest bit as if he had been caught. He held your gaze for a couple of seconds before taking a long lick, from your entrance to your clit, where he sucked gently, your juices mixing with his saliva.

“You taste so good,” he muttered against your core, slurping like a starved man. His words sent a shock of pleasure between your thighs, making them close against Draken’s head. However, his hands were stronger and they kept you in your place, watching you helplessly wriggle underneath him.

“I love you,” you panted, your thoughts getting cloudy. As a reply, Draken pulled his face away and inserted two of his fingers inside you. Your walls clenched around them, a broken moan stuck on your throat.

The many years he had had you weren’t in vain, as he curved his digits just the right amount and hit that special spot in just a few tries. You threw your head back, hips rising and breath hitching, losing more and more control of your body with every thrust of his fingers. He bent down once more and let his tongue play freely with your clit, his lips circling and sucking just when you needed him to and the tip of his tongue making you see stars.

“Ken— fuck, fuck—,” you whimpered. You put a hand over the one that was holding your thigh open and squeezed it. “Stop, please— I can’t— I don’t— stop. ”

Immediately, Draken pulled away, his concerned face glistening with your arousal. He crawled up until his face was hovering over yours.

“Shit, sorry. You okay? What happened?” he asked in a whisper, inspecting your face as he tried to find a clue of your discomfort. You placed your hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look back into your eyes.

“No, it’s okay, I’m okay,” you reassured him, noticing his eyebrows relaxing a bit at your words. “I just— I don’t want to come— I mean, I do, I want— but with you inside. Please, I need you—”

Draken crashed his lips against yours, and you swallowed his moan when you shuffled your legs so he was resting between them, his bulge pressing against you. His shirt was already long forgotten on the floor and now he was fumbling with his pants as he rocked his hips against yours, the kiss getting more and more desperate with every second.

Once his pants joined his shirt, he fished his wallet from one of his pockets and took out a condom. Your chest rose up and down as you watched him put him on, a small warning inside your mind that this was the last time. Emotions were pouring out without you being able to control it, a knot forming on your throat and your heart clenching in pain. Draken hovered over you again and rested his forehead against your shoulder. his breath making you shiver as he slowly started pushing himself inside.

He left small kisses alongside your neck, trying to ease the pain of the stretch that he knew you were experiencing. In all the time you’d been together, he always managed to make your breath hitch every time he slid inside you. You clutched onto his broad shoulders, one of your hands removing his hairband and undoing his braid, letting his long, blonde hair flow free. You repeated his name like a prayer as you rocked your hips, trying to get used to his size.

You ran your fingers up his spine and threaded them with his hair, closing your fist around it around the base of his neck. Draken took it as a sign to start thrusting against you, making more moans leave your mouth and your hand pull his hair a little tighter. Both your legs circled his waist and you locked your ankles with each other, creating a new angle that made tears form in the corner of your eyes. It was too intense and even if your feelings always poured whenever you two were intimate, you could feel as if every fibre of your body was holding onto him, innocently hoping he wouldn’t leave after you were done.

Draken grunted against your neck, his hips picking up the pace and finding the spot his fingers were brushing against just moments ago. You cried out and tightened your legs around his waist, feeling him so deep that you thought you would be reaching your high quick enough. At this, you put your hand on his right shoulder, pushing him away. He turned his head, his nose brushing against your cheek and his hips slowing down.

“Hey,” he said, just a little out of breath. “Talk to me. What do you need?”

You grabbed both sides of his face, bringing him closer to you. The small resistance you felt as first disappeared as he let you manoeuvre him how you wanted. When his dark eyes were hovering over yours, his hips had already stopped, his eyebrow slightly raised as he looked down at you.

“If this— If this is the last time, I want to see you,” you said, your thumbs caressing his cheeks. His eyes widened at your words and you could feel him tense up. However, a moment later, he nodded and pressed a kiss against your lips as his hips resumed their movements.

For the first time, you were able to see Draken’s small expressions as he fucked you. How his lips were parted as he breathed through his mouth and how his eyes were darker than ever, fixed on your eyes. You had never noticed how his nose turned the loveliest shade of pink when he was fucking you so good. Your heart swole and once again you felt too much at the same time. You loved him, you loved him so much. Why couldn’t you make it work?

Draken took your legs and put them over his shoulders, the new position making you whimper. Soft pleas filled the living room and he rutted into you, each of his thrusts getting you closer and closer plus making your brain foggy. There was only Draken, only him, only your boyfriend Ken who was so wonderful and who had made you fall head over heels for him from the moment you had met him.

Your hands were still on each side of his face, your breath colliding against his as you whimpered. Draken started grunting, his hips snapping faster and harder against your core, setting all your body on fire. It was too much— every inch of you was yearning for the man on top of you, not feeling him close enough even if he was buried deep inside of you. Your hands lowered to his shoulders, nails digging on his pale skin. You wanted him, there wasn’t anything else in the world you wanted as bad as him and you knew as soon as this was over, the more and more pleasure you got from him, then the sooner he’d walk out the door.

Tears started prickling on the edge of your eyes and it wasn’t long until one of them rolled down your cheeks, your moans mixing with small sobs. Draken grabbed your jaw with his big palm, forcing him to lock your eyes with his just as you had before. You saw him moving his lips as if preparing himself to say something, but no words came out of his lips. You noticed concern in his features, yet he seemed distressed as he tried to find the right words.

“I love you,” you panted, feeling another tear fall from your cheek.

And that was when Draken knew.

He knew he had to leave you.

Nodding, he pressed his lips against yours. “I love you too,” he muttered, before picking up his pace.

After that, it wasn’t long before you were reaching your orgasms, clenching around your boyfriend and bringing him to the edge as well. He didn’t let go of the hold on your chin as you both climaxed, eyes locked on each other as you crumbled apart and breaths colliding between parted lips.

It took a moment for both of you to catch your breath. As your body started relaxing under Draken’s weight once more, the reminder of your previous conversation where he was putting an end to your relationship came back. You felt a know forming in your throat and by the sad look on Draken’s dark eyes, it was clear he was thinking of the same thing.

He pressed his lips against yours once more, but this time it was softer, gentler, as if it was the first time he was kissing you at all. It didn’t last more than five seconds but it was enough for your eyes to fill with tears again. Draken pulled himself away from you and turned his body as he started putting his clothes back on.

You saw him stretching to pick up the old sweater that you had returned to him a moment ago and picked it up before he could reach it. You put it over your body, covering yourself, but it wasn’t enough to make him look at you.

“Please, stay,” you mumbled. You noticed your lover’s arm tensing at your words, but he still started walking towards your door. “Ken.”

The way you whispered his name made his heart clench, his step faltering for a moment. He stood in front of the door, looking at the handle and gathering all the strength he had left.

“Just for tonight,” you insisted. “You can leave in the morning if you want, just… I want―”

“You know what happens if I stay,” he interrupted you. “If I stay, I’ll never leave again.”

“Would that be so bad?”

Draken finally turned around. You looked so small, covering yourself with his old sweater and a part of him was glad he was leaving something behind. The idea of you remembering him even a few years as you find the sweater on the back of one of your drawers brought peace to his heart. He just hoped this goodbye wouldn’t taint the memories you had created together the last couple of years.

“…I’m not losing you,” he sentenced under your confused gaze.

“Ken—”

Cutting our sentence short, Draken finally opened the door and left your apartment. In the silence that filled your living room, you could only listen to his muffled steps as he walked down the hallway.

You couldn’t understand why he was leaving.

But you knew you were never going to see him again.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Part 1

Summary: In the blink of an eye, this complete stranger became your only lifeline.

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: So, I’m not dead. To any new followers I’ve gained since my last post, welcome, thank you and sorry for my unbelievably crap posting schedule. To all my old followers, thank you for sticking around, I appreciate you v much. Hope this story is alright, just trying to get back into the swing of things with a quick oneshot. Love y’all.

—

Same nose, similar ears. The ears usually give it away. But then, one redhead and one blonde? Maybe they’re- shit, a kiss. Didn’t guess in time. Damn, I am not doing well today, won’t be breaking my record streak anytime soo-

‘You alright?’

You snapped back to reality, eyes flicking away from the front window to focus on the broad man who’d appeared on the opposite side of the counter.

‘Hmm, what?’ It took a good few seconds for you to remember where you were. ‘Yeah, sorry, what can I get you?’

He tried to suppress the deep chuckle vibrating through his chest. ‘Black coffee, two sugars.’

‘Something funny?’

‘No, just uh-’ he glanced away for a second, embarrassed, obviously not registering your playful tone, ‘that’s the third time I asked. You must’a been miles away.’

While he was hesitating, you’d taken a quick second to scan your eyes over him. He was wearing a pair of old, worn-out jeans and a dark jacket, an outfit you wouldn’t have looked twice at if it weren’t for the single, black leather glove that covered his left hand. Your eyebrows scrunched slightly in confusion when you spotted it, then quickly relaxed again when you decided to write it off as some kind of odd fashion statement. He couldn’t have been too late into his thirties, but his right hand was calloused and weathered, so much so that it looked as though should’ve belonged to someone twice his age. His rough stubble obviously hadn’t been touched with a razor for a good few days and you weren’t entirely confident he’d showered this week yet, somehow, he was kinda pulling it off.

You shuffled towards the coffee machine to start his order. ‘Sorry, I was just thinking.’

‘Anything worth sharing?’

‘Not really, I was just playing a stupid game. Helps pass the time when it’s slow.’

He shrugged slightly, a faint smile appearing as he replied. ‘I like games.’

You were quiet for a second, trying to size this stranger up. His eyebrows slowly crept up his forehead in anticipation.

‘It’s gonna sound weird, but sometimes I like trying to guess what kinda relationship people have before they give it away.’ You knew you were coming across crazy even as the words were leaving your lips. ‘Like, those two holding hands outside? At first I thought maybe they were brother and sister. Same ears.’

He quickly glanced at them over his shoulder. ‘You do that all day? Surely most people aren’t hard to figure out.’

‘You’d think so,’ you leaned in and tried your best to maintain a sincere expression, ‘but every so often you come across a couple with a huge age gap and it rocks your damn world.’

A rumbling laugh escaped from his throat which set you off giggling as you secured the lid of his takeout cup and placed in front of him.

‘Two fifty.’

He grabbed the drink with his gloved hand and rustled around in his pocket with the other, eventually pulling out a crumpled five dollar note and sliding it across the counter.

‘Keep the change,’ he quickly clocked your stunned expression, ‘for the entertainment.’

‘Wow, thanks. Have fun playing.’

‘I definitely will.’

You kept your eyes glued to him as he strode through the door and past the front window, only realising after he was out of sight that a wide, giddy grin had settled itself on your face.

Stupid, there was no way a guy like that was single.

—

It’d been over a week and you’d almost forgotten your interaction with the handsome stranger. Heavy footsteps trudged over the threshold and became louder as they headed in your direction, but you didn’t look up from the coffee stain you were furiously trying to scrub off the counter. Absolutely nothing had gone your way today, and your frustrations had been made even worse by a string of asshole customers, so this was a war you refused to lose. A weathered set of fingers came to rest a few inches away from the brown-tinged battleground.

‘You were right.’ You swiftly lifted your gaze, your heart leaping slightly when his shining blue eyes met yours. ‘I saw a couple in the park the other day, and I swear she must’ve been twice his age, so I thought she was his mom. Then…’

‘Then?’

He leaned in slightly, eyes wide. ‘They started making out.’

‘Wild, right? I told you.’

‘My world was pretty rocked.’

You chuckled, pushing yourself upright and moseying over to the coffee machine. ‘Black coffee, two sugars?’

‘Mhmm.’ He seemed a little nervous as he cleared his throat and ran his hands over his jeans. ‘I’m James, by the way. Friends call me Bucky.’

‘What should I call you?’

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. ‘Whatever you want.’

‘Deal,’ you emptied two sachets of white sugar into his cup, ‘I’m y/n. Just y/n.’

There was a short silence. You noticed his jeans, the same pair he’d been wearing on his last visit, had been scrubbed clean. There was a different long sleeved tee poking out from beneath his jacket, but it could’ve easily been mistaken for the same one by a less invested observer. You could tell he’d shaved, and possibly even showered, cause the strong scent of his aftershave was overpowering the stale coffee smell you’d grown so tired of. Maybe he was on his way somewhere special?

‘You got big plans later?’

‘No, just came out for a walk,’ he eyed his cup while you brought it over to the counter, ‘and for the best coffee in the city.’

As you placed it in front of him, you found yourself a little distracted, pondering why on earth he’d groom himself so thoroughly for a walk in the park; lost in deep thought, you completely neglected to release your hand. Bucky instinctively went in for the grab and, very briefly, enclosed your hand in his. He pulled away and quietly apologised. The encounter was so quick that you could’ve blinked and missed the bolt of excitement that gleamed in his eye- but you saw it. In an obvious attempt to diffuse some of the tension, he started to root around in his pocket for another crumpled note, but you waved your hand to stop him.

‘On the house.’

‘You sure?’

‘Mhmm,’ you smothered a playful smirk, ‘for the entertainment.’

He smiled and began heading towards the door, but decisively swivelled back round just before he reached it.

‘Would you, maybe, want to grab a drink later? We could play your game together,’ he gestured at the empty counter beside you, ‘might be nice for you to have someone to talk to. Not that I think you’re lonely or anything, I’m sure you’ve got loads of people to talk to, I just meant-’

‘Four.’

‘Four?’

‘I finish at four.’

A grin spread across his face. ‘Great. I’ll see you then.’

—

You checked your phone for what felt like the hundredth time.

4:47

How long should you wait before it becomes pathetic? Did he think you said five?

You audibly sighed, double-checking that the coffee shop door was locked before trudging away down the street. Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to dates with random dudes- he probably got a better offer.

Rummaging around in your bag, eyes firmly glued to the sidewalk, you pulled out your headphones and relished the instant relief when they enclosed your ears and blocked out all the obnoxious sounds of the city. All you wanted to do was get home, put on your ketchup-stained lounge pants and cry in front of a rom-com.

Then something hit your shoulder. Hard. You snapped your head around to see the person who’d just crashed into you, still running at full speed, seemingly unfazed by the fact he’d almost knocked you off your feet. Out the corner of your eye, you noticed a hoard of other fast moving figures, and suddenly realised that everyone else on the street was running as fast as they could in the same direction. Incredibly confused, you reached up to slide your headphones off. That’s when you heard it. Distant screaming, gunfire, and a low, consistent thudding like footsteps- but far too loud to belong to any animal you’d ever heard of. You slowly turned on the spot, dreading what you were going to see. It was worse than you could’ve imagined.

A horrifying, four-legged creature, towering above the rows of shops and apartments, destroying street lamps and trees with every step it took towards you. It was clad in some kind of metal armour and had a face like a lizard without scales or skin. You wanted to run, but quickly realised you were frozen on the spot. You tried to scream but couldn’t produce anything of worthy volume. All you could do was stand there, faintly whimpering, as death stared you in the face. By the time you noticed the smaller, human-sized beings charging towards you, they were already close enough to get a good shot.

There was a loud electrical crackle, followed by an intense burning pain in your stomach. The shock knocked you to your knees as the edges of your vision darkened, the hot sting travelling through every inch of your body, the sounds of panic around you slowly becoming muffled and distant. Then everything went dark.

—

Your eyes painstakingly peeled open. The light hanging above you was dim, but the glow it gave out was enough to sting, forcing you back into a pained squint. Your mind was a complete blank and everything was quiet around you as your vision slowly adjusted.

Unfortunately, you were only granted a few seconds of peaceful consciousness before the agony started. It started in your ribs, then slowly seared down your limbs like fire travelling along a trail of gunpowder, trying to find the point of ignition. You panicked as the sensation grew and began frantically scanning your surroundings to find any point of familiarity, but it was no use. You had no idea where the hell you were. The ceiling above you was faintly stained with patches of damp, some of which had leaked down and formed brown streaks on the peeling wallpaper. There was a small window to your right, the drawn net curtains letting in the faint, yellow light of early evening. To your left, a wide-open door. From your lying position all you could make out was the edge of an old-fashioned looking refrigerator. What was this place?

You tried to move, but anything more than a slight twitch of the fingers sent a pain through you so sharp that it took all the breath from your lungs. It felt like you were lying there, struggling and panicking, for hours before help came.

A figure eventually appeared in the door, rapidly shooting to your side once it realised you were conscious. You blinked rapidly, clearing the tears that had been swelling in your eyes, to see Bucky drop to his knees beside the bed.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ Your voice was almost imperceptibly quiet, the heady mixture of pain and panic suppressing it to a breathy whisper.

‘Just breathe, slowly, try to remember.’

‘Where are we?’

‘Outside the city, somewhere safe.’

‘Safe?’

With that word came a crashing torrent of memories. You remembered the thudding, the creature, the fear. You remembered the approach of death with crushing certainty. Tightly gripping the bed sheets, you searched Bucky’s eyes, pleading with him to reassure you.

‘Am I dead?’

He let a husky chuckle slip through his lips. That brief, gentle display of calm was enough to dampen your panic, if just for a second.

‘No, you’re alive. I managed to get you out of there,’ he glanced down to your stomach, ‘but you are hurt.’

‘How bad is it?’

You sensed some reluctance in him as he hesitated, likely debating the best way to soften the blow. ‘It’ll take some time, but you’re gonna be okay. You just need to rest.’

So many more questions were whipping through your mind. What was that thing? What did ‘outside the city’ mean? Why did this guy, this stranger you’d only met twice, risk his life to remove you from that situation?

That last one seemed the most important to you at the time, so that was the one you asked.

Hints of guilt appeared in his expression. ‘You were still there, in harm's way, cause of me. Any other day you might’a been home safe, so least I can do is make sure you’re okay.’

Pain was still ringing through your body but his soft, calm voice had managed to soothe you a little. You weren’t sure what to say. It was true, you’d have been halfway home on the subway by that time on a normal day, but you could hardly blame him for that. He couldn’t have known that a colossal amount of shit was about to hit the fan.

‘Well,’ you took deep, shaky breaths as you spoke and tried your best to match his serene energy, ‘this is definitely the weirdest first date I’ve ever been on.’

‘Me too.’

He seemed relieved at your tone, but your line of questioning wasn’t over yet. Besides, talking was distracting you from the pain, so you weren’t willing to give that up anytime soon.

‘How did you get me out of there? How are you not dead?’ That one hit a chord with him, the long, tense silence that followed only broken by you prompting him again for some answers. ‘Who are you, Bucky?’

Once he started to explain, you half-wished you’d never asked. There was no way, in your current state, that you could even begin to wrap your head around all the insane, inconceivable things he started confessing. You could hardly call him a liar, though. Not while his solid metal arm was resting on the bed sheets beside you.

He finally finished and kept his wide eyes fixed on you, silently waiting for your reaction. You swallowed harshly. Any reasonable person would’ve begun eagerly reeling off a list of questions related to his completely unbelievable stories but, for reasons beyond your comprehension, only one thing popped into your mind.

‘You could’ve called.’

He laughed again, louder this time. ‘I was a little busy.’

‘Only would’ve taken a second.’

‘I don’t have your number.’

‘Could’ve googled the coffee shop’s number.’

‘While I was fighting aliens?’

You let your annoyed pretence slip, your mouth curling into a smile. ‘Yes.’

‘Fine, next time we have a date and something comes up, even if it's huge and world-threatening, I promise I’ll call. Alright?’ You did your best to give him a contented nod, even that slight movement reminding you of the pain he’d been very effectively distracting you from. ‘Now, can I get you anything?’

‘I wouldn’t say no to a hefty dose of drugs.’

‘I’ll get you some painkillers.’ He rose to his feet before opening the top drawer of a small chest near where he’d been kneeling, his hands diving in and beginning to search. ‘I meant to ask, you got any family in the city you want to check up on? I have a phone you can use.’

‘Thanks, but no, I don’t.’

‘Anywhere else?’

‘Nope,’ you curved your mouth into a slightly self-pitying frown as he turned back towards you, ‘it’s just me.’

‘Me too.’

—

Some time passed. It could’ve been a week, could’ve been a month- the days all bled together while you stared at the grim ceiling of that bedroom. Maybe it was the heaps of painkillers, or maybe it was your brain’s feeble attempt to prevent you spiralling into full breakdown, but the reality of your situation never seemed to properly hit you. The city you lived in was on full, alien-induced lockdown while you were holed up in some crummy apartment miles away with a perfect stranger. It was like the plot of a Stephen King novel.

Bucky spent a lot of time at your bedside, talking to you and answering any questions you had, emphasising over and over that he’d help you travel anywhere you wanted to go as soon as you felt strong enough. While your painstaking recovery started taking shape, you noticed that you’d begun to develop a deep, genuine trust in him- and maybe something more. You couldn’t exactly blame yourself, this was the man who’d saved your life after all.

This morning, you woke up to a loud clattering in the next room, followed by a hushed string of creative curse words. You had to lock a hand over your mouth to stop yourself laughing too loudly. Slowly, as you settled into consciousness, you found yourself feeling stronger than you’d felt in a long time. Maybe it was finally time for a change of scenery. You managed to gradually heave yourself up, supporting your feeble body on various items of furniture as you shuffled towards freedom. You eventually reached the doorway and leant yourself against the frame, exhausted.

‘Little help?’

Bucky, who was crouching on the floor of the tiny kitchen area picking up what looked like shards of a ceramic mug, jolted to attention at the sound of your voice. He immediately dropped all the pieces he’d been meticulously collecting and hurried towards you.

‘Woah, what the hell are you doing? You alright?’

‘I’m good, it sounded like you might need a hand.’

He frowned and glanced over your shoulder at the empty bed and the sheets you’d half-dragged across the floor during your weak fumbling. ‘You climbed out of bed for the first time in weeks, ignoring your serious injury that isn’t even close to fully healed yet, to come help me put the coffee on?’

‘Well, when you put it like that…’

‘C’mon,’ he placed a supporting arm around your back, ‘you need to lie back down.’

‘No, please Buck. Being in that room is driving me crazy. Just give me a few minutes.’

He seemed reluctant, but your best puppy-dog eyes managed to sway him. 

‘Alright, but you’re staying on the couch. You can’t be on your feet too long.’

He slowly walked you over to the tattered two-seater, setting you down gently before returning to clean up his mess. You took in your surroundings. The place looked exactly how you’d expected, dingy and run-down, a few old pieces of furniture filling the cramped space. You heard the faint sounds of traffic coming through the solitary window and just about felt the warmth coming from a two-bar heater on the opposite side of the room. The whole apartment was just this tiny living space, with a kitchen on the far wall, and the bedroom you’d become so familiar with.

As you adjusted yourself on the lumpy couch, you noticed a sleeping bag neatly folded on the floor beside you, which made you feel a little guilty. You’d been spreading yourself across a double bed for the past few weeks whilst Bucky had been curling himself up on this poky thing. 

After a few minutes, he wandered back over with two steaming mugs of coffee, carefully handing you one and settling himself beside you.

‘About time I was the one making the coffee, huh?’

You smiled slightly whilst blowing on the hot liquid. ‘Black, two sugars?’

‘You got it.’

He obviously thought he was being sneaky, intently watching you whenever your eyes were pointed away, hints of concern penetrating his otherwise relaxed expression. He was like a coiled spring waiting for something terrible to happen, for the mug to slip from your grip and scold your lap, for blood to suddenly rush to your head, causing you to faint and rag-doll onto the floor. Whatever the disaster, he was ready. 

His attempts at subtlety didn’t last long, however, as he soon began just asking whether you felt alright every couple of minutes. You didn’t mind though, it was pretty sweet and endearing.

‘I gotta say,’ you kept your eyes fixed on your drink, ‘I’ve never been on a first date that lasted this long before. Gotta be a good sign, right?’

‘I’d say so. I’m sure I’ve been enjoying it more than you, though.’

‘Eh, I’ve had worse dates.’

‘What, worse than being bed bound with a serious injury?’

‘You’ve obviously never used Tinder before.’ His soft laughter prompted a few butterflies to appear in your stomach and, as his gaze returned to yours, you struggled to suppress the feelings that had been slowly growing inside you these past few weeks. ‘To be completely honest, your company’s the only thing that’s kept me going.’

He shifted in his seat awkwardly, the skin around his cheeks reddening slightly as he audibly gulped. Had you misread this? The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to-’

‘Don’t apologise.’ His voice was soft, regretful, but it seemed to gain a little more confidence for his next statement. ‘I feel the same.’

—

As more time passed, you grew stronger and felt yourself getting closer to Bucky. He began helping you into the front room every morning, where the two of you would while away the days talking, laughing and sitting at the window so you could play your favourite guessing game on the pairs of strangers walking past. He was pretty terrible at it, but that just made it all the more entertaining. For a while you even found yourself downplaying the extent of your recovery in an effort to extend this time with him, complaining about aches and pains that had actually subsided days ago. You were worried that, after this ordeal was over, he’d decide there was no reason to continue spending time with you.

Eventually, though, you couldn’t pretend anymore. The city was safe again and you were ready to go home. There was an undertone of sadness, in both of you it seemed, as Bucky helped you through the front door. You’d been able to walk confidently on your own for a while now, but he still insisted on being close in case anything happened. You were almost willing yourself to trip and fall as you made your way down the steep stairs.

He had to drive you through the centre of the city to reach your apartment, the extent of the destruction still evident even after all this time. Numerous roadblocks were in place, some buildings half-destroyed and others gone completely, piles of rubble being the only remaining evidence that they ever existed at all. You couldn’t imagine how the streets must’ve looked in the days following the event. You saw people still going about their daily lives but, whenever Bucky stopped at a red light and you managed to catch a closer look at their faces, their agitation was obvious. People here were still living in fear, and you could hardly blame them. You were probably going to be doing the same.

The car eventually pulled up outside your ground-floor apartment. You dug around in your bag, the same one you’d been carrying on the day in question, and eventually found your keys. Buck stood in the doorway as you wandered in, half relieved to be home, half trying to fight off a looming depression.

‘You all good?’

‘I think so.’ You unceremoniously threw your bag onto the couch. ‘Thanks for everything, really. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay you back for everything you’ve done.’

‘Just stay safe.’

‘I’ll try my best.’

You thought he looked a little dejected as he nodded and took a couple steps backwards, his reluctance to turn away sparking a faint bolt of confidence in your chest. It was now or never.

Fuck it, you had nothing to lose.

‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you came to check on me every once in a while, though?’

‘Yeah?’ The wind immediately started blowing back through his sails. ‘I mean, I could even take you on a second date, if you wanted. Hopefully the world won’t end this time.’

‘But if it does?’

‘I’ll call.’

The two of you stood opposite each other for a few seconds, smiling in silence, both waiting for the other to make the first move. You took the initiative. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you yanked him towards you, your arms immediately encircling his neck as your lips crashed together. He carefully placed both hands on your back, obviously still worried about the possibility of hurting you. The two of you held that position for what felt like hours. You found yourself beginning to slowly melt into him, but then something suddenly dawned on you, and you sharply pulled away.

‘I’ve just had a terrible thought.’

You felt him stiffen slightly. ‘What?’

‘What if people who see us in the street together guess we’re brother and sister?’

He chuckled through his words, his body again relaxing against you. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who does that, but we’ll just make it obvious that we’re not. Just in case.’

‘Good call.’

[philliamwrites]

TDWC 08: Secrets of the Forgotten

Pairing: House Leaders x gn! Reader

Warnings: canon divergence, slow burn

Summary: “Please, don’t mind me at all,” Claude beams, his grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s. Dimitri’s scowl deepens more. His eyes turn into the blue of an icy-cold glacier dominating the coastline of Faerghus in the North. “I do, actually. I wish to speak with the Herald in private.” “Then get in line for an appointment. Our Herald is very popular with folks, as you know.” And with that, he closes the door in Dimitri’s face.

Notes: [01] | 07 | 09

Words: 9.7k

A/N: huge thanks to @raindrops-on-the-roof for joining me on this ride and being my beta-reader!!

i lived, bitch. it's been so long but after a year, i'm back with the next chapter and it was ton of fun working on it becase we're finally introduced to a new figure and get some original content. also claude's a menace and that's what we all want. enjoy!

08: Secrets of the Forgotten

But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch’s high estate; (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him desolate!) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed, Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.

— Edgar Allan Poe, “The Haunted Palace”

The underground canals running through Abyss, like veins moving blood through the body, are dirty and smell of human waste and decay, but Balthus plays a hand much dirtier and everyone huddling around the small, crooked table in Wilting Rose Inn groans in unison. Except for Byleth. She shows her own cards, a Royal Flush, and earns a round of earnest applause. You try catching her eye to find out whether she has turned time back in her favour but her ever-steady gaze doesn’t betray anything.

“Okay, lesson learnt.” Balthus gets up and stretches, putting his taut muscles on full display. “I never imagined there could be someone worse than Yuri out there. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Is Yuri really that bad?” you ask, throwing your Flush on the table.

Balthus gives you a seldom serious look. ���You have no idea.”

It’s certainly not that hard to imagine. He sometimes has this intense, piercing gaze in his eyes when he talks about knights patrolling too close to Abyss’ entrances for his liking, even though his whole body is a picture of relaxed serenity. He’s an amazing actor, you can give him that.

“Another round?” Byleth asks, already shuffling the cards expertly with her slender fingers. Apparently, part of being a mercenary also entails having an amazing poker face and constantly winning at card games.

“Oh, no, no, I think I’m on guard duty,” Marco, the Rogue, says and flees.

“I forgot I promised to check if there’s enough candle wax to … remake candles,” Ethan, the Marksman, says and bolts.

“These are the men supposed to protect us,” Barbara, the Smith, sighs. “Yet they fear their pride won’t stand after losing a game to a woman.” She gives Byleth a scrutinising look that is also approving at the same time and follows her comrades. The rest of the crowd scatters like butterflies fluttering away after being disturbed from their peaceful slumber.

“That Barbara.” Balthus shakes his head. “Can’t say I know anyone more capable of making grown men feel like little boys.”

“I like her,” you admit. “She doesn’t call me the Archbishop’s Lapdog.” Like most Abyssians.

“Just give everyone some time.” Balthus’ grin is part amusement, part pity as he gives your shoulder two hard claps to bid you good night. “They’ll see in no time you’re no church stuck-up.”

You aren’t so sure about that. You have been down here for a couple of days only, engaging in fights, defending the place against the mercenaries and bandits that wander into Abyss—on accident or on order still remains a question. It was obvious that fighting a few battles for them would not change their mind so quickly—a few good deeds did not undo the year-long abuse and persecution most of the Abyss dwellers had to suffer. You doubt you alone can heal those wounds, yet still there is a fierce fire burning inside you, a light blazing to banish all the shadows clinging to their pained hearts.

Not for the church’s sake, you’ve realised quickly, but for the Herald’s, for the first one loved Fódlan’s people; loves Fódlan’s people still. Every night you lie in your dark quarters, a single, tiny room with nothing but slatted frames and a thin blanket for a bed, nothing feels surer and more honest than this feeling Seiros’ Champion allows you to glimpse as if what it means to be the Herald is that simple.

And simple it is, for if you cannot remember your identity, your wishes and dreams and ambitions, you can take his on until you have figured it out for yourself; surround yourself with them just like you donned his ceremonial robes at the very beginning.

If Byleth questions your new-found vigour for battle, for tactics and schemes on the battlefield, she hasn’t voiced it yet. Or, maybe she is simply too occupied trying to understand the cards Fate has dealt her.

The Wilting Rose Inn clears out as the candles burn down until only a few loyal patrons remain in their respective, quiet corners. It becomes easier to talk to Byleth, since you cannot be sure who might be listening in, ready to forward information to Yuri and give him whatever reason to put your head on a stake. Not that he would actually do something like that. At least, you hope he would not do something like that.

You also realise how much you missed just being in her presence, and they become the only short moments during the day when you allow yourself to relax and droop your shoulders whenever exhaustion weighs you down.

Today, Byleth has made it her personal mission to teach you wood-carving. It goes as expected: you’ve cut yourself three times and have nothing to show for but a misshapen try at a cat that bears more resemblance to a stone you might find in one of Abyss’ gutters.

“I am,” you say as the sharp edge nicks your thumb once more, “a danger to myself and everyone around me.”

“Good thing I’m the only one here then.” Byleth gently takes the knife from you as if you are a toddler and only to be trusted with tools that are highly unlikely to chop your limbs off. Like a spoon. You’ll remind her of that next time she pushes a sword into your hands and demands you to participate in another sparring session. “I’m not as practised in magic and Tome wielding as Linhardt or Lysithea, but I am sure you still need all your fingers to conjure spells.”

“I could try it with my toes.” You wiggle your bloodied fingers at her like the boogie man. “Become the first Warlock that casts Dark magic with their feet.”

The smile that tugs at the corners of Byleth’s mouth is a greater victory than having chased off the bandits yesterday. It is followed by a frown though, one so light, the softest shift in her brows that you wouldn’t have noticed it were it not for the long hours during tea-time you spent studying the planes and features of her face like an artist might while studying their muse.

She leans back in her creaking chair and pockets her knife inside the hidden sheath strapped around her upper thigh. “We are making slow progress uncovering who is after Yuri and his friends,” Byleth says. “I know we’ve been through this already, but any guesses?”

“You’d think with how often we got rid of them by now, they would realise trying to drive the underground residents away is a waste of time. Whoever pays them must hold a serious grudge, why else would they spend so much money on sending mercs in here?”

A shadow passes Byleth’s eyes. “Unless these kids know more and are hiding the true reason someone would be after them.”

You understand her concern. You two have agreed to help, but your official duties and first responsibilities lie in taking care of the academy’s students and seeing that no harm comes to them. Which is no easy task as they so readily throw themselves into defending the Abyssians.

“I … I don’t think that is the case.”

Byleth simply lifts an eyebrow, urging you to go on.

“I can’t explain it very well. I just don’t think they have anything bad in mind. I don’t think there is a reason to doubt them.”

It doesn’t make sense, and yet you know Byleth is the last one to argue against a point like that. This quiet, strange connection that exists between you two is undeniable—just like the sun’s travel over the skies and that it lies to rest in the West and rises again in the East, day by day. Everything is connected, you just have to find out who is spinning the thread of your Fates together.

“I really thought they were trouble at first,” Byleth says and gestures to the barman to bring another round. “Especially Yuri. He is cunning and sharp, a dangerous combination for a leader.”

“I’d like to think he is hiding a warm, pleasant core beneath all that scheming and calculating,” you say, taking the drink the moment the bartender leaves it at your table. “Hiding it somewhere very, very deep.”

A corner of Byleth’s mouth twitches. She’s holding her own glass, lazily swirling the amber liquid in circles. “He is young, but I would not put it past him to hold ulterior motives. Promise me to be careful around him.”

“He and his lot helped me before they knew I was the Herald,” you concede, thinking back to Constance’s reaction after you woke up. “They simply saw someone in need of help, that’s all.” Since then, it has not occurred to you even once that they might be criminals hiding away under the church’s nose. You still think of Alfons and Briana’s small faces, their round button-noses and large eyes as they look up at Yuri in adoration. They deserve so much more than hiding away in some dark, rotting cellars.

You swallow your shot in one go, and instantly begin to cough and pound your chest as it goes down burning. Byleth knocks her glass back without any problem and swallows the burning liquid as if it were water. You still blink against the tears stinging in your eyes.

“You sound like you trust them already,” Byleth says and waves for another round. You try to share a mildly concerned look with the bartender, but he ignores you and slides two more shot glasses in front of your noses.

“Trust is maybe a little much,” you mumble, thinking of Yuri’s sharp smile, the way Hapi struggles and fails not to roll her eyes whenever you offer some insight with your Crest. “But I don’t think they’re bad. Or evil.”

Byleth nods, either because she has come to the same conclusion or because she puts trust in your decision not to doubt them. She downs another shot, looks at you expectantly. You scramble for another topic, anything that will save your throat from burning up a second time with this goddess-forsaken liquor.

Inevitably, your eyes fall on the sword strapped to her waist, only to call it a sword puts any blacksmith who has mastered the art of steel and iron to shame, and you have no desire to meet the one responsible for this craft, the one that bends bone and magic to their will. Byleth follows your gaze. Her hand rests on the hilt, hesitantly at first. You don’t think you have ever seen her hesitate before.

“The Sword of the Creator,” you mumble. “What does that even mean?” Has the Progenitor God truly wielded such a thing? What kind of goddess was she to come up with such a hideous weapon, to forge the Heroes’ Relics in such a portrayal and present them as gifts to humanity? It is like receiving an apple and only finding the core rotten and inhabited with worms after you have taken a bite. You wonder if this repulsive fascination is you or Seiros’ Champion, yet he remains silent.

Byleth stares into her glass as if the answers for all her questions lie hidden at the bottom and by drinking fast enough, she can unravel them. You are pretty sure that is how people become drunkards.

“Holding the sword … wielding it.” Byleth searches your gaze. “It felt raw. Unlike anything I have ever felt, and yet...” Her nimble fingers dance across the hilt once more, halt at the round socket where it seems that something spherical is missing. When she locks eyes with you, something tells you this is something she has not even told her students. Maybe she can’t tell them. Maybe, just like you feel with her, she feels that honesty comes easier when only you are around. You take a sip from your glass, welcoming for once the biting heat that forces you to shut your eyes and turn your head away.

Why can’t you tell her about the first Herald? Why do you want to keep his existence within you a secret? You listen for his voice, his opinion on the matter, but Seiros’ Champion is still silent, and you hope it doesn’t stay that way in matters of life or death. What is the use of an ancient dwelling inside your heart when he does not share in his unending knowledge and experience?

“And yet, it felt right,” Byleth finishes, cutting off your thoughts, and somehow you can easily imagine what she had felt—for the very same could be said about meeting the Herald. Right, natural. Like returning home. “I wonder … if there is any truth to the people’s claims that only a descendant of the King of Liberation would be able to use its power the way I did.”

You’ve read the historic texts on Nemesis, the King of Liberation. How the goddess gifted him the sword to use its power to save Fódlan from wicked gods over a thousand years ago. He liberated the people from their thralldom and thus was named King and Beloved of the people until the sword’s heavenly power, too terrifying and mighty for any mortal to bear, corrupted him and he turned to the darkness, waging war across the land and thus forcing Seiros to destroy him. It strengthens your belief that whatever benevolence the Goddess gifts her patrons, the price to pay in the end seems too high.

“I hope,” Byleth continues, “Professor Hanneman will have answers to that when we return. I still do not quite understand why Rhea has allowed me to keep it.”

“Is there any explanation as to why it was her sword inside the tomb and not the remains of Saint Seiros?” you ask. It would also beg the question where they are instead. But Byleth shakes her head.

“There wasn’t much time to go into details,” she says. Her fingers linger just a moment longer on the sword, before she withdraws them—a little reluctantly. “When you disappeared, we moved heaven and hell to find you. It was by mere luck Claude spotted one of the Abyssians disappear inside a passageway under the Abbey.”

“I hate how no one told us,” you say. “You would think a whole bunch of people living under the monastery is worth mentioning at some point after appointing us to our positions.”

“I’d like to think there was a reason for keeping silent about it,” Byleth says though even she doesn’t sound sure, and it strikes you as odd. Not Byleth doubting Rhea, but her not being sure about something. “A reason I can’t wait to hear once we’re back on the surface.” She reaches across the table, presenting her open palm to your hand holding your glass. You surrender and give it to her, watching a little too intently when her throat bobs as she swallows another round.

“Yuri expects another attack on the Abyss soon,” Byleth continues and rises to her feet. She stretches like a cat in the sun. “We should head to bed and rest up. I wouldn’t want a repeat of the last battle.”

“Oh, come on, it was not that bad.”

“You almost fell asleep from exhaustion when those two Grapplers advanced,” Byleth says, using her Professor voice on you.

You can’t help but grin. “And just like I predicted, you came and saved me.” Byleth’s mouth twitches into a flat line, but you can see that she is pleased. “Pulling an all-nighter to study the maps and outline of Abyss and the secrets it has to offer was a good idea. There are some interesting chambers holding traps and pitfalls. Whoever built this place really wanted to keep people away.”

“Makes you think what could be hiding deeper down in Abyss,” Byleth thinks aloud. “And maybe one of the next bandits will be kind enough to tell us.”

You nod. It was Claude’s idea to take someone captive and get answers from them, and hopefully shed some light on what it is exactly that their employer wants from Abyss.

Byleth escorts you to your chamber, your quiet voices bouncing off the damp walls in the dark corridor that stretch away into unprepossessing shadows. Unlike up in the monastery, the walls here are bare of tapestries and sometimes even of torches which makes traversing the tunnels difficult. You’ve let Linhardt show you simple fire spells to have a source of light on you.

���But it would be far easier if you learnt Light Magic,” he had commented as you two bent over scrolls and books, fighting a yawn. “Also much safer and highly unlikely to set yourself on fire.”

You had closed the tome he’d slid across the table to you, smiling stiffly. “Duly noted.”

The flame dancing across your palm now flickers but doesn’t waver, illuminating the corridor and painting Byleth’s face with a sheen of soft, amber light, giving her pale complexion a little colour. She is watching you conjuring the spell; how your fingers close around the flame as if it were a small beating heart, easily snuffed out whenever a breeze swipes through the corridors.

“I see your Magic Prowess is growing,” Byleth notes. “As is your ability to hold your own ground on the battlefield. You’ve grown used to fighting.”

That isn’t a compliment you had ever thought someone would tell you, but coming from Byleth, you know it is true. You have noticed it yourself—how with every battle it gets easier to see the enemy’s movements and abilities, their weapons and gear. Calling upon the power of the Herald’s Crest, usually a taxing and draining endeavour that left you resting up in your chambers, has become much easier since you have met Seiros’ Champion. Whenever he makes his presence known with quiet whispers of where to lead your students next, soft pushes as if he is placing his small child’s hand upon your shoulder to guide you to victory, his support is like wind in your sails, propelling you forward and lifting your courage.

“You are not as scared as you were in the beginning,” she continues. “You have never much wavered in your tactics, but you seem even more sure now.”

All that praise from her makes your ears scald with heat. Though praise it seems, you know that Byleth only speaks truth. “I have finally started to trust in my abilities. If people see me doubt, how can they follow where I lead them in battle?” you say, even though that is not entirely the truth, of course. Which is why you hastily add, “And I trust you. As long as you are by my side, we are invincible.”

“So it is,” Byleth says, turning her head so that her moss-green eyes dig into you like hooks. “And yet I wonder. This courage, is it just because you wish to defend Abyss? To prove yourself before Yuri and his companions. Or is there something else? Something that you want to share with me?”

You both pause in front of the door leading to your quarters, the silence smothering you like a heavy blanket of freshly fallen snow that puts everything into a deep slumber. No matter how much you dig through that snow though, you can’t find the resolve to tell her about Seiros’ Champion. Where would you even begin to explain?

It might seem that I have turned mad but believe me when I tell you the soul of the first Herald resides within me and sometimes, he whispers to me what I should do, and he likes to gossip from time to time as well. He seems fond of Edelgard in particular, and notices whenever she looks at you, but you choose not to see it.

You stare at her, not entirely sure what you are waiting for. Maybe that Byleth learns how to read your thoughts so you wouldn’t have to speak these outlandish things aloud. Instead, you say, “No. There is nothing.”

Byleth considers you for a moment. You make it a point not to shy away from her scrutinising gaze, as one would do with nothing to hide, you assume. In the end, she relents first, but not because she grants you an easy victory. You’re certain she knows when it is wise to return to a battle at a later time. “I see,” she says mildly. “Rest up, then. I will see you tomorrow.”

 You watch her disappear down the hallway, the blade at her side peeking out from under her black robes like a sly wink; like a promise waiting for the right time to jump out of the shadows and strike you in the back. It occurs to you then, for the first time, that maybe the timely meeting with Seiros’ Champion and Byleth activating the power of the Sword of the Creator might be connected.

The Chalice of Beginnings. The way it all ties back to the Rite of Rising, the very same festivities used as a distraction to try and steal Seiros’ remains—unless the Western Church somehow knew what they would find inside the tomb would be something entirely different—and ultimately the reason you are all down here … calling it simply coincidence is like cooing at a fox shortly before it snaps with sharp fangs at you. It is hard to tell what play you are conducting on the stage unknown forces have set you upon. All you can hope for is that it doesn’t end up being a tragedy.

With the scrolls, papers and books Aelfric was kind enough to lend you spread over the make-shift workplace you’ve put together using crates, you’re spending the evening reading up on the Rite of Passing and the Four Apostles. Even though some of the texts are so badly damaged you can barely make out their content, it all matches with what Aelfric has already told you: the ritual is believed to have the power to resurrect a life that was lost using the chalice which only the Four Apostles had access to. After the ritual failed, they bound the chalice so that it would never fall into mortal hands. Capable of something that grand, it is no wonder whoever is after it throws ambush after ambush at the Abyssians in hopes to find crumbs leading to where this treasure of immeasurable worth might be.

But if that chalice really exists, where is it? To search for the Chasm of Bound below Abyss feels like trying to find a needle in a haystack. There is no telling how much time you have left before either Rhea demands everyone’s presence back or you are unable to protect the Abyssians any longer from the mob of greedy thugs.

“Knock knock,” a voice says from the entrance to your room.

You startle, too lost in thought to notice anyone approaching. Claude is leaning against the doorframe, having come up behind you as silent as a cat. He has changed out of his gear, wearing loose dark trousers tied at the waist, and a simple white shirt that stands in contrast against his tanned skin. The first buttons of his collar are open, showing the elegant curves of his collarbones. His dark hair is damp, curling against his temples and the nape of his neck.

“Did something happen?” you ask, moving in alarm to rise from your seat, though surely, he wouldn’t lean so leisurely and relaxed against the door if there was another attack. He confirms as much with a lazy wave of his hand, unhitching himself from the frame. “Nope, nothing to worry about. I just thought I’d drop by and say hi. Do you know how difficult it is to pin you down? You’ve gotten really busy since we’ve come down here.”

“You know, no rest for the wicked.” You try to restore order on your desk by organising the books and scrolls in one corner. You’ve completely lost track of time, and as it turns out, magical fire is incapable of burning candles to their wick, so there is really no telling how long you’ve been holed up in your room, studying the ancient texts. “Do you need something?”

“Just thought we’d have a nice, pleasant chat.” The smile flirting with Claude’s lips is dangerous for it tries to appear innocent, yet the way his green eyes glint with mischief, like the edge of a knife flashing as it is drawn from a hidden sheath, promises nothing good. “Been a while since we’ve had one of those.”

 You can’t remember if you have ever had one with Claude. Maybe all those moons ago after you had awoken with your new power, which now feels like a lifetime ago. You lean back in your chair, allowing your eyes a break after all those hours of reading. Maybe this distraction might help.

“Okay, I’m all yours.” You stand up, waving at the chair to offer Claude a place to sit, and absolutely missing the way he shoots you an amused glance at your choice of words. Instead of taking up your offer though, he steps backward. Suspicion crawls up your back, feathery light like a spider making its way to new prey caught in its web.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Claude says and with a swift kick, shuts the door behind him. You stare at him, tongue-tied. Can students just do that with faculty members? Yuri’s voice creeps up from a dark corner in your memory: “You’d do well to keep in mind that the monastery rules don’t apply down here, Herald.”

“I just have a few questions, is all,” he continues, still smiling but anything pleasant in his voice has made room for an urgency that you can’t remember ever having heard coming from him. Claude crosses the room in quick strides, and leans his hips sideways against the table. His eyes flick over the remaining texts on your table, his head slightly cocking to one side to get a better angle to read them. When you clear your throat, he startles, and looks back up at you.

“Right, sorry.” He knows that you know that he, in fact, is not sorry. “The library here has some pretty interesting things, I gotta say. Books and scrolls you’d never find in the monastery’s library. There are some things that are hard to believe, though. There’s this funny book hidden inside a false cover that talks about a Distance Viewer and Flammable Black Water and a Metal-Hold Printing Machine. Imagine the technological advancement one of the nations would achieve if they could actually build and utilise devices like that.”

“Is that why you’re here?” you ask. “To talk about the Abyss’ book collection?”

“What? No. No, I—,” he begins, tapping his slender fingers impatiently against the wood. You don’t think you have ever seen this restlessness about him. Claude has always appeared as steady as his bow-hand, sure that wherever he aims the shot will land true. “I was just wondering if something happened after your fall down here. Something you can’t tell us.”

You feel as if ice water has been dumped down the back of your neck, shocking you to full alertness. Claude must see that he has caught you off guard; a look of hesitancy flashes across your face before you can speak. “And what would that something be, exactly?”

He lowers his voice. “I thought you might tell me.”

You stare at him, throat tight, the cold sweat sensation of anxiety spreading slowly through your limbs. “Nothing happened. Whatever gave you the idea that I’m hiding something from you guys?”

There is a moment of silence as you two trade a look that feels like a dare. There is something forbidding about the intensity of Claude’s gaze, the tension of his stillness. His fingers stop their rhythmic tap tap against the table, and now clutch onto its edge, his knuckles turning white. “I’ve always figured your reservation towards using your Crest came from the novelty of it. The foreignness of a power that isn’t yours. But in our recent battles, there’s nothing of that anymore.

“I thought maybe it’s because you met the Ashen Wolves and the people from Abyss, and you feel sympathy towards them and that’s giving you a little more oomph to try making use of the Crest. But that’s not it, is it? You’ve changed from despising the powers to fully embracing them. Wielding them as if you’ve never done anything else in your life.”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips, and you don’t miss Claude’s eyes quickly jumping down to your mouth for a second. Or maybe it was just your imagination, the flickering shadow of the small candle’s light across his face. “Maybe I’ve just grown used to it,” you reply quietly.

“Herald, you grow used to balding or riding a new steed.” He looks at you sharply, his head tilted to the side. Something in his voice changes in that moment. “You don’t get used to something that changes your life from being a nobody to suddenly standing in the centre of the world. Not really.” His voice has a veneer of calm, but beneath you could hear the vibration of some very different emotion.

What changed for you, then? you want to ask. It doesn’t feel like the answer would be so simple as the appointment to the heir of the Leicester Alliance.

You shift, folding your arms in front of you for lack of a response. As much as you like to discount Claude’s tendency for plots and schemes, there is something disconcertingly earnest about him right now. The similarity is striking you all of a sudden, the shadow passing his eyes one you have already seen in Sylvain’s when he had tried talking about his Crest and its troubles.

“All I’m saying is,” Claude continues, and he takes a step towards you. Instinctively, you take one back. He takes another one. This goes on until it ends with your back against the wall. “All I’m saying is that maybe Teach finding her new shiny weapon triggered something in you,” he says now, propping himself up against the wall, his hand splayed beside your head. “Maybe a memory? Something like that?”

You hold his gaze, not shying away from his scrutinising eyes or the close proximity. So, you are not the only one thinking that the Sword of the Creator and the Crest of the Herald are connected in a way the other Crests are not. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Claude, of all people, is the first to have noticed it. You had simply failed—or underestimated him, rather—to anticipate that he would also act on that theory and corner you like a mouse to get answers. Literally.

“Nothing like that happened, Claude,” you say now, feeling like you’re walking on a lightrope, and a single misplaced word could send you plunging. And then, he is there, his presence like the light brush of soft flower petals against the back of your mind. Do not tell him yet. Do not tell anyone yet, I ask of you. I do not wish the world to know I still exist. Silly Champion of Seiros. You’ve already understood his feelings perfectly without him having to tell you.

“Somehow, I was given this power. I tried fighting it for so long, but there’s no way I can run from this. I realised that, so now I’m just trying to make the best out of it.” It is only half the truth, but that is something Claude doesn’t need to know. It is also something he didn’t want to hearyou realise as you watch his expression turn into something close to disappointment.

“I’m sure Lady Rhea would enjoy hearing this,” Claude says, his voice deep and thin like a knife’s edge—and just as sharp.

“You’re not very subtle, Claude.” You try to move past him, but he doesn’t budge. “What’s your problem?”

“Problem? There is no problem.” The mask of bored indifference slips back on his face, turning his eyes distant, and cold even. An easy smile stretches over his features, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I just enjoy teasing you.”

“And maybe I’ll enjoy sticking a dagger in your side.”

Claude laughs. “That’s not very Heraldy of you.”

You try to see if that laugh means you’re good, but his eyes are closed doors. Your face must be a question mark, because he says, “Herald,” and touches your cheek gently, grazing your skin with the rough pads of his fingers. You inhale sharply, gaze snapping up to his. Claude’s eyes widen, realising what he’s doing only then, and his warm, calloused fingers freeze against your cheek.

Just as he opens his mouth, knocks come from your front door. He lifts an eyebrow at you, asking if you are expecting visitors at this time. You just shrug. You certainly didn’t expect him, and yet here he is.

Claude pushes himself off the wall, allowing you to cross the room and open the door a crack wide. Through the narrow opening you see Dimitri standing in the hallway. When he spies you glancing at him, he gives you a shy smile that quickly turns into a scowl when Claude comes up behind you. He presses his chest against your back and leans an arm against the door frame above your head. “Oh, Dimitri?” Claude drawls.

Dimitri pales as he sees, and certainly misunderstands the sudden intimate proximity Claude is displaying. He presses his mouth into a thin line. “Pardon the intrusion, Herald. I thought maybe this would be a good moment to review the last battle reports. But I see…,” and here his eyes dart over to Claude and sweep over him as if he were a particularly unpleasant surprise he found under his bed, “… you are preoccupied.”

“Please, don’t mind me at all,” Claude beams, his grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s.

Dimitri’s scowl deepens more. His eyes turn into the blue of an icy-cold glacier dominating the coastline of Faerghus in the North. “I do, actually. I wish to speak with the Herald in private.”

“Then get in line for an appointment. Our Herald is very popular with folks, as you know.” And with that, he closes the door in Dimitri’s face.

You’re pretty sure Dimitri on the other side is wearing the same expression of dumbfounded surprise that is on your face. “What is going on with you, Claude?” you ask and turn to him, forgetting how close he is. When you almost bump into his chest, you take a hurried step to the side. “The way you are acting is unbecoming of someone with your station.”

Claude shrugs. “Don’t worry, Dimitri won’t take it to heart. It’s just that things have started to happen that don’t make sense, and I am all about making sense of the senseless.” He looks over at you, smiling. “Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

You’re spared the eye roll for an answer when distant bell ringing heralds another ambush on Abyss. Claude heaves a long, weary sigh. “No rest for the wicked, huh…” He turns to open the door, but except a little rattle, nothing happens, no matter how hard he shakes at the handle.

“Come on,” you say, unable to contain the urgency in your voice. “Open the door.”

“Well.” He turns around. “It appears that it is stuck.”

Your eyes go wide. “Then unstuck it.”

Claude throws himself against the door. It doesn’t budge. He curses. “My shoulder will never be the same. I expect you to nurse me back to health when this is over.”

“This is your fault,” you press out between gritted teeth. “Just break the door down, we can’t waste more time.”

“That’s what I’m—,” Claude throws himself once more against the hard wood, “—trying.”

There’s a loud crack and the door opens to the other side; not by swinging but by being lifted out of its hinges. Behind it, Dimitri is peeking around the frame, eyebrows raised to his hairline. “I thought you two might be in need of some assistance.”

“Yeah, I was … I was about to do the same,” Claude says.

You push him aside, hurrying down the corridor and waving them after you. “Lucky for us, Dimitri was faster.”

“No, really!” Claude calls after you. “I was just about to do the same!”

The fight lasted throughout the whole night. When you return to your chamber, drenched in grime and blood, you can’t even be bothered with your missing door and fall face first into your bed, remembering too late that it’s as hard as the ground.

After an hour or two of resting, you quickly clean yourself up and meet the others for a short breakfast of dry rye bread and mushy oats, letting them believe the red bump on your forehead is from the battle. There is a little spare time before the meeting to discuss your next course of action, so you head back to your room for some more shut-eye.

“Herald.”

A raspy whisper stops you, drawing your attention to a chamber you walked past on your way to the classroom many times. Not once has it been occupied since your arrival in Abyss. But now it is decorated with heavy velvet curtains and tapestries. Violet lights hang from lanterns on the ceiling, illuminating the heavy furniture and curtains in soft, misty light. You remember Constance mentioning something about a Wayseer’s room, usually empty, but now inhabited by an elderly woman sitting in an armchair too big for her behind a round, mahogany table. You can only see a pair of narrow, dark eyes staring up at you. Her nose and mouth are hidden behind a white veil.

“Please, do come in, Herald,” the woman croons and gestures to an empty, cushioned chair standing before the table. Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “There is so much we have to discuss.”

Something in your chest gives a sudden, sharp tug. Seiros’ Champion? No, this feels different. Somehow … It feels wrong. You shouldn’t be here. You hover within the doorframe, looking down the corridor left and right. It is like everyone except you two has left Abyss.

Curiosity taking you in its reins, you step into the room, your eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. “Who are you?” you ask, cautiously making your way across the room towards the chair.

The woman chuckles.

“They call me Wayseer, Herald. For I see the paths people have walked and how far they still have to march until they arrive at their destination.”

You pause, hand resting on the chair’s backrest. The wood feels impossibly cold against your skin. “You can see … the future?”

The woman chuckles again. It is the sound of dry leaves scattered by the cold autumn wind. “You mean do I have the same ability as you? Making Time bow to me? Oh no. Nothing of the like. I simply glimpse where I am allowed. No one else has what you wield.”

“Of course.” You sit, quickly swallowing your disappointment.

“Oh, but why frown like that, Herald.” The Wayseer places her hands to both sides of a translucent orb placed before her on a dark socket. You could have sworn it was not there a second ago. They were small hands with lithe fingers like spider legs. On each finger she wore heavy rings. “So many would kill for what you seem not to appreciate. Power. Glory. The chance to sit upon the throne of the world.”

“I would appreciate people not telling me how to feel about it,” you snap, irritation lashing out like a cornered beast. Taken aback, you lean away from her, your back pressed right against the cold chair. It feels as if you are pressing yourself against a solid block of ice. Where did this come from? This fury?

The Wayseer’s lip curls. If she’s taken offence at your irritation, she doesn’t show. She shifts in her seat like a child impatient to finally be allowed to play with a new toy.

“What can you tell me about my paths then?” you ask. There is little you hope for, really. If she tells you she sees you living in a nice house by the sea in twenty years or so, that is all you can ask for. A peaceful life. You would simply be happy hearing you will survive the next few years. And, if she can see where exactly you have come from, then maybe luck really is on your side this time and you can finally find some answers.

“Very well.” The Wayseer’s chuckle is drier than crisp autumn leaves. She holds out her wiry hand and says, “Close your eyes, Herald, and give me your hand.”

You aren’t too keen on skinship with a stranger, but just to humour both of you, you comply, and placing your hand into hers, palm up, you close your eyes. You feel her gnarly fingers dance over your wrist, brushing over your open palm as light as a spider’s touch. You fight a shudder.

The pain is so sudden and jarring like a lightning bolt. Before you can pull your hand back, the Wayseer grabs your wrist hard like a vice—surprisingly strong for someone this old. Her head darts forward and she sucks your bleeding finger into her greedy mouth as if it were water and she is dying of thirst.

“What are you doing?” you demand, fighting to free your hand. Finally, the Wayseer releases your finger with a wet pop from her lips, and for a second you believe to see razor sharp teeth before the veil obscures her mouth again.

The Wayseer smacks her lips and scratches her nails against the smooth surface of her orb. Maybe this is all a joke. If Claude and Hilda jump out from under the table any second and laugh about the silly face you’re making, you wouldn’t even be angry. But no one emerges, and you stay alone with this mad woman. She’s moving her hands in strange motions over the orb, and in response colourful clouds swirl inside the ball. First red, then blue, and golden until, like a storm rolling in, all of a sudden it becomes black.

The Wayseer recoils.

She tries to suck in air as if she is drowning, her eyes bulging like a dead fish’s. She spits on the ground and a shudder wrecks through her, one that has her falling from her armchair onto the ground, her body convulsing. She begins to cough, a horrible, rattling sound, as if there is something stuck deep inside her that she can’t get out. Clawing at her throat, digging her nails deep enough into the skin to tear, she kicks and wails as if set in invisible flames. As if something is burning her up from the inside. Like poison.

You jump to your feet, rounding the table to help her but she screeches and scrambles away from you, eyes ripped wide open. “Who … no, what are you?” she croaks.

“I … I don’t know.” Your voice is so quiet you don’t know if she can even hear you. “I hoped you could tell me.”

The Wayseer turns to the side and spits some more. It is so dark that it almost looks black, whatever that is—blood or maybe something far gruesome?

Did I do that? you think, horrified as you watch her climb to her feet, still shaking and shuddering. You are about to apologise, reaching forward to steady her by her elbow, but the Wayseer shakes your effort away impatiently as if you are nothing but an annoying fly.

“Oh, my dear, you seem forsaken to me,” she says, and you can’t hold back your surprise how easily she bears no mind or grudge to whatever has happened. Whatever you might have caused. “Just like—” She stops. Her eyes are fixed on her orb that is now swirling in undistinguishable shapes. She leans over it, her gaze pining you like a dead animal on a corkboard. “It seems to me that the answers you seek lie in the Shadow Library, Herald,” the Wayseer says now, her voice suddenly smooth like clear water. Or the satin concealing a sharp knife. But what makes your stomach churn is the way she purred “Herald.” Almost mockingly, and you realise the spiking fear in your stomach doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to the first Herald.

“Why can’t you tell me?” you ask.

“Because it is not my place to tell you.” The Wayseer casts down her eyes now. Her whole behaviour doesn’t make sense. Making light of the Herald’s name first, now acting obedient. You listen inside for the voice of Seiros’ Champion and find one emotion burning like a beacon in the dark. Get out. She is the enemy.

You jump to your feet, almost knocking the table over. “I have to go.”

“Of course.” The Wayseer bows her head slightly, and from the way her eyes become slits, you can see she is smiling underneath the veil. “But don’t forget, the Shadow Library holds answers. Do not let anyone stop you from chasing the truth.”

You give an awkward nod, not trusting your voice.

When you quickly leave the room and throw a last glance back, you think you see the unfamiliar face of a man staring back at you from inside the Wayseer’s orbs, his eyes eerily white.

The Shadow Library is a dark, damp room tucked away at the end of a narrow hall that is seldom frequented by the Abyssians. When you take a look inside, relief fills you that only Linhardt is currently occupying a seat close to a wall, an uneven stack of books his only companion.

The Wayseer didn’t say specifically where to look, but you would start with records on the first Herald and see what you could turn up about him.

But first, you have to deal with Linhardt who’s napping away in his seat, cheek squished against the edge of an open book.

“Linhardt.” You shake him. “Linhardt!”

He jerks up. “I’m awake,” he lies, blinking sleepily against the dim candle’s light. He looks up at you, squints and seems to recognise who caught him. “Oh, it’s just you, Herald. Come to a late study session as well? Or early morning? It’s certainly hard to tell down here with no sun.”

“How long have you been awake?”

Linhardt thinks about that for a moment, his eyes losing focus, then refocusing again. “Forty-two hours, maybe?”

“Bed. Now.”

He leans back, considering the idea. “We can’t say for how long we’ll have access to this hidden knowledge. Did you know it was only with the founding of the Adrestian Empire that we have the calendar as we know it today. They used to call our moons ‘months,’ if you can believe something this extraordinary! You can’t find data like that up in the monastery’s library.”

“Linhardt,” you repeat. “Go to bed. Or do you want me to get Byleth?”

Linhardt doesn’t need to consider this. He raises to his feet, sways a little from exhaustion, and tugs his uniform in order. “Good night, Herald.”

He turns and moves to the exit, but you call him back. “Linhardt!”

He stops. You point at the table. His mouth twitches into an unpleasant line, the only sight of his disapproval, but he returns, drops the books and scrolls he’s hidden in the folds of his robes, and leaves for good.

Quiet settles, and you give it a minute or two to calm your beating heart. “I know you don’t like this,” you say out loud, hoping Seiros’ Champion might finally stop being so anxious inside you. “I don’t trust that Wayseer either, but if I find answers here, I’ll take anything I can get.” He doesn’t know what it is like not knowing anything. Are you even a real person if you don’t have a past; if you don’t have anything or anyone remembering you? “I have a right to know who I am.”

Unfathomable sadness spills at those words—his mixing with yours and you can’t say who started it. But he quickly recedes, leaving you alone. Somehow you feel even worse now. Lonely. You wonder where he left to where you can’t follow him.

You make your way along the walls of books, allowing your fingers to gently journey over the spines. There are so many stories in here that so few people get to read. This library’s collection appears larger than the monastery’s as well, solely for the fact that they don’t have enough space for all the knowledge cramped into every nook and cranny. Wherever there is even some small additional space, someone has made it their calling to fill that blank spot with a book—even when it doesn’t fit.

Without any idea to start, you continue down the aisle and pick whatever sounds interesting. Letters from heirs to noble houses, an antiquated note on what meat to use for a special dish prepared for the new emperor at ceremonies, a novel set in the Adrestian Empire with a date of removal and Seteth’s signature. So this is where the books end up that Seteth doesn’t allow up in the monastery.

You’d hoped to find more about the Herald down here maybe, but there are no records, no memoirs, not even discourse. Why did no one care to keep your records alive? you wonder, but wherever the boy has retreated to, he can’t hear you, or perhaps, chooses not to hear you.

Nothing sticks out as something truly worthy of Seteth’s scorn at first glance. That is until you find the burnt remnants of a report stating some details on a handful of noble houses, another scroll that talks about a False God and the children of men fleeing to the depths of the earth. One paper strikes you as particularly important, but the page is so old and worn that most of the text is illegible. The Truth of Heroes’ Relics. You wonder what it might be, what truth lies within the relics and their Crests that the writer of this paper finished with the words “I daresay the Goddess would not wish for me to learn more than I already have.”

You finally hit a breakthrough when a stack of papers falls to your feet, bundled together with a crumbling piece of wool. When you begin to read, you realise these are the fragments of a forgotten memoir of someone who had fought in the War of Heroes. With clammy hands, you begin to read.

__/15 - Ailell Forest It has been several moons since King Nemesis was defeated, and the tides of war have turned from bad to worse. I have received news that my friend Daphnel has fallen as well. Those zealots are after our heads, and those of our leaders. All that is left for us is to disappear into the muddy waters Seiros has created. My long life may soon come to an end …

__/2 - Itha Plains I somehow escaped with my life, but I fear the end is near. They tell stories of the Shadowlord’s execution and with him gone, what point is there for us, those who have survived? Those who remain and carry a broken legacy. People are worried, for their Herald has locked himself in his rooms, unwilling to speak to his followers or Saint Seiros. They do not understand how he could be so distraught over the Shadowlord’s death. They do not know the truth. Once more, Seiros has chosen to keep secrets, to play with her charges’ obedience and fear. But I know. The world will know the truth at some point and then Seiros will reap the rotten harvest of what she has sown. I misspoke and was driven away to the Fhirid River. They hunt us like animals. I considered leaving Crusher behind, hiding my trails. Maybe it is too late for that. I wish I could see my wife and son again … just one last time.

You read the content of the worn pages once more, trying to make a sense of it. Daphnel was one of the Ten Heroes, as was the author of this letter—if you remember correctly, the Heroes’ Relic Crusher was wielded by Dominic. It must be from after the corruption if King Nemesis was defeated, but from the way those words are framed, the author doesn’t strike you as someone mad for more power or revenge. It is strange but you feel pity for this person.

There is another name that stands out, of course, one that you have not heard in all your moons since joining the church.

The Shadowlord.

The name is like a brush of icy cold fingers against your mind, as gently as a snake grazing your ankle before it springs forward and sinks its venomous fangs deep into your flesh. A shiver passes your body, only it is settled so deep within your bones that you know this is not your fear rekindled.

But as you focus on chasing after Seiros’ Champion before he can disappear back into the murky depths of your mind, a cough comes from the library’s entrance. Your gaze snaps up to see Yuri standing in the doorway. The look of annoyance on his face is something that deserves its own painting to commemorate it.

“I hope you plan on putting that back exactly where you found it,” he says, strolling over as if he doesn’t have any care in the world but the tense set of his shoulders betrays him. “Wouldn’t want any of that to find its way into the hands of someone from the surface.”

“Don’t you get bored?” you ask, folding the papers back together and pushing them back between two books.

Yuri stops, quickly eyeing what you’ve put away to undoubtedly have a look himself once you leave. “Bored of what?”

“Pretending I’m still the villain and here to sell out your people?”

To your surprise, a look of unabashed amusement lights up his face for a moment. It settles back to a somewhat neutral expression, but the glee still remains in the soft dip of the dimple on his left cheek.

“Better safe than sorry,” Yuri replies, shrugging casually. His nimble fingers dance across book spines. “Though yes, even I must admit that your deeds for the people of Abyss are not what I have expected.” His fingers pause. Yuri leans forward, lilac eyes gleaming. His face is predatory, but his voice is gentle. “You are not what I have expected.”

His words feel like the warm flick of a candle’s light. You didn’t realise until now how much you cared for Yuri’s approval. To think he’s warming up to you slowly might still be an exaggeration, but maybe he’ll grant you the generosity of a looser tongue now that he doesn’t see you as the enemy.

Your eyes skim back to where you’ve returned the letters, fingers itching to take them with you until you know every word by heart. “I’ve … I’ve read about this person. Shadowlord. Any idea who that was?”

Yuri raises a slim eyebrow. “The Shadowlord?” He looks a little puzzled, his eyes roaming over the books. “It’s just a story. A boogie man living in the shadows that steals you away if you don’t finish eating all your vegetables. Grandparents used to tell their grandchildren that story so they wouldn’t be naughty.”

“So just the bad guy in a fairy tale?”

“Is what I’ve heard.” He gives a single shrug. “Who knows. All fairy tales have a spark of truth to them though. Maybe he truly existed.”

You’re sure that is what people thought about the Herald as well until the story became reality. You just hope this particular story remains one.

“Also, I would appreciate it if you don’t go around the monastery telling everyone what you’re reading down here,” Yuri says, waving towards the library’s entrance to signal your late-night reading has come to an end.

You hesitate only a moment before you follow him down the corridor, leaving the books and tomes behind. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Great.” He winks at you. “Saves me the trouble of sneaking into your room and slitting your throat.”

“Charming as always.”

Maybe one day you’ll be capable of holding a pleasant conversation with him without any death threats. Though it already feels as if a little of Yuri’s animosity has disappeared in favour of giving you a chance to prove yourself.

He drops you off at the door to your quarters, already flaunting down the corridor to whatever nightly escapade fancies his tastes without so much as a wave at you over his shoulder.

“That Wayseer,” you say before he can disappear into the shadows. “What’s her deal?”

Yuri stops. He turns slowly, his eyes flitting from the dark corners of the flickering lights on the walls to you. There’s a question in his eyes you don’t know the answer to. “What Wayseer?” he asks, and you can feel your blood run cold. “I know everyone going in and out of Abyss, and I haven’t heard about someone like that hanging around.”

“But that room next to the scrap chamber…”

“Hasn’t been occupied in years.” When Yuri answers this time, he turns around and looks at you a little sceptical but also impatient as if he doesn’t have time for whatever pipe dreams you’ve come up with. “I guess someone played a joke on you. Don’t let it get to you.”

You nod, but your mind still lingers in that room, with that person. It would be easy to brush it off as a joke. But this sense of wrongness spikes again, a kernel of goddess-awful flavour that the more you think about it has you gagging. You had felt an awareness. No. More than awareness, more sentient than that. It was recognition.

A/N: someone over at ao3 made fanart of the first herald and i'm absolutely in love!! check it out here!

if you're interested to join the taglist, please let me know! i want to resume uploads every month, so the next chapter should be up on September 15th. thanks for reading and take care!

[vendettaparker]

Peanut Butter and Extra Jelly [T.H]

Summary: Tom’s long time crush on you becomes painful when you and Harrison are cast as love interests in a movie. 

Paring: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader 

Word Count: 5.8k

Warning: Suggestive themes, fake smut (very light), jealousy, probably some typos, swearing 

a/n: i have no idea how filming a movie, or auditioning for one actually goes so don’t crucify me for this. i’m pretty happy with how this turned out, especially considering that this is the most i’ve ever written for a fic. also, Burt Kreisher is one of my fav comedians in real life, he has 3 shows on neflix and a mini series.  

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     Tom was not a jealous person. At least, that's what he always told himself. He prided himself in thinking he was a very level headed individual who didn’t let his emotions get the best of him. That worked best for his job anyways; always being able to control his emotions and not get in his own head. That simple, pacifistic mindset seemed to change when it came to you. 

      You were one of the many actors Tom got the pleasure to help hone their technique and work closely with. You were new to the lifestyle of Hollywood and the only roles you had before were in small indie films that never garnered too much attention. The first major role that you landed, which also happened to help kickstart your career, was in the MCU. You played the secondary villain in the third Spider-man movie. 

     Meeting the cast was a dream come true; they were all extremely helpful and they provided tons of tips and tricks in navigating the hectic schedule required for such a huge production. By the time filming wrapped up, you were considered part of their little Spider-man family. 

     Tom was easily the most helpful. Whenever he saw you struggling with anything, he offered to help. You two spent hours upon hours together in his trailer, ordering take out and practicing lines. Some nights you two planned to work through your script, but inevitably ended up falling asleep binge watching The Office, and laughing about crazy shit that happened on set that day. 

     When the movie wrapped up and you went home for a month before the press tour, you were completely unsure and nervous about what direction your career was going in. You auditioned for a few new movies, but had yet to hear from any of the directors about casting decisions. You kept in touch Tom during the month you were apart and expressed your concerns. 

     “I don’t know, Tom. I’m just so sick of waiting around and hoping that some director out there throws me a bone, ya know’?” You said on facetime, while making cookies. 

     “Yeah, I totally understand that, (Y/N/N). I had that issue a couple years ago before the Marvel movies. Trust me, you did outstanding in that role and once it gets noticed I’m positive you’ll have directors calling you, begging for you to audition.” Tom smiled warmly into the camera as he walked around his apartment in London. 

      “Yeah, easy for you to say, movie-star.” You giggled, turning your face away from the camera in hopes that Tom wouldn’t notice the blush his compliments painted onto your cheeks 

     “I’m serious! You were outstanding! Like in that one scene where you—” 

      “Tom! Tessa chewed a hole in my trousers again!” A voice came from outside of the frame, “Mate, you gotta get her to stop doing that somehow.” 

     Tom sighed, and waved his hand dismissively at the figure, “Okay, sure. I’m busy right now.” Tom looked back to the camera, “anyways, as I was saying, don’t stress about not having a new project yet, (Y/N)—” 

     “(Y/N)?” The other voice whisper-yelled. “Let me say hi!”, suddenly the phone was yanked out of Tom's hands and the video shook around a bit as Tom wrestled to get it back. Finally, the camera stilled and Harrison was on the other end smiling. “Hi, (Y/N)!” 

     “Oh, hi Harrison!” You smiled back, laughing. You'd met Harrison a few times when he visited Tom on set. “How are you?” 

     The camera started moving around more as the background behind Harrsion whizzed past. You assumed Tom must’ve been chasing him to get the phone back. 

     “I’m good! I just auditioned for a new movie. You should audition too! The main female lead’s description looks just like you.” He exclaimed, running past the kitchen to his room. 

     “Oi! Give me my phone back you div!” You heard Tom yelling in the background, no doubt in hot pursuit of Harrison. 

     “I don’t know, I'm not sure I’m prepared for a lead role.” You sighed, “What’s the movie called? I’ll look into it.” 

     “It’s called ‘Collateral Damage’, it’s a spy movie.” Harrison said, shutting the door to his room, while Tom pounded on it from the other side. “Yeah, it’d be really fun working with you. Tom constantly talks about how much fun you are on set.” Harrison wheezed out, trying to catch his breath. 

      “Aw, that’s sweet of him.” You laughed. “Well I’ve got to go. Just tell Tom he can call me tomorrow or something.” You waved at the camera. “Bye!”

     “Yup, bye.” Harrison said right before the video cut out. 

      Harrison finally opened the door to a seething Tom. Tom grabbed the phone back from Harrison and noticed that the call had ended. 

     “Dude! Why would you do that?” Tom whined. 

     Harrison just patted Tom’s back, “Sorry, mate. She said she had to go, though. I was about to give the phone back.” 

     Tom huffed and sulked for a moment. “Whatever, I’ll just call her later, I guess.” 

     Harrison nodded and smirked at how whipped Tom was. “You should just ask her out if you’re so desperate for her attention.” Harrison teased. 

     “Shut up. I’m not desperate for her attention, I just like her voice and her personality, and the way she talks, and her funny sayings, and how her hair looks when she just woke up.” 

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     It was only a few days later when you received an email from the director of the movie Harrison told you about, asking for you to audition. You were ecstatic, Harrison must’ve already sent in some things about you since the director seemed adamant that you were of high interest for the role. 

     You called Tom immediately to share the good news. 

     He picked up after the third ring, “Hello, darling! How are you?” he beamed when he answered your call. He usually was the one to call you so he felt a sense of pride knowing that you were calling him for once. 

     “Tom! The director of the movie Harrison auditioned for just emailed me asking for me to audition!” You squealed excitedly. 

     “Really? That’s wonderful, love! Harrison just got the part of the lead too, so you’d be filming with him if you got it.” 

     “That’s so exciting, I’m flying to London for the audition in two days. Are you still there?” You pulled the phone away from your ear and switched it to speaker. “I’m booking the flight right now.” 

     “Yeah, I’ll be in London for another week and a half. Then we have the press tour starting in Japan.” Tom said, also switching to speaker phone to look at his calendar. “You can stay with Harrison and I while you’re here. Since we have to go to Japan together anyways.” Tom offered nervously. He really wanted you to stay in his flat with him. It’d be all cute and domestic, and maybe, just maybe, he’d spend enough time with you to not feel nervous about asking you on a date. If he was lucky, that is, but awaiting your reply he was a jittery ball of nerves. 

     “Yeah, that sounds wonderful. I won't be intruding though, right?” You said, smiling from ear to ear. Thank god you weren’t on facetime and Tom couldn’t see the stupid smile adoring your features. 

     “No, of course not. Harry will be so excited to see you. And Tessa too, she really misses you.” Tom shuffled around with his phone, shooting a quick text to Harrison letting him know you were coming to stay for a week. 

     “Ok, thanks so much, this is really thoughtful of you. I absolutely can’t wait to see you!” You gushed, finalizing your purchase of a one-way ticket to London. “K, the flight is at 2:30 pm here, it’s about 9 and a half hours, but you’re also ahead of me, so I’ll be in around..5?”

     “Yeah, that sounds right to me,” Tom chuckled, “I’ll come pick you up. I’ll wear my incognito disguise.” 

     “If you mean that stupid t-shirt you got that says ‘I’M NOT A CELEBRITY’, then maybe I’ll ask Harrison to come pick me up…”

     “That’s cold (Y/L/N).” 

     You giggled softly, “I’m sorry, Tommy. If it makes you feel better, that shirt isn’t as bad as that stupid blue beanie that you never wear correctly.”

     “How the fuck would that make me feel better? You’re killing me, (Y/N/N).” 

     You laughed at his over dramatic reaction, “Sorry that you’re a sensitive babe. I gotta go now, see you soon!” You hung up before Tom could respond with a sassy quip. Then immediately after you received a text:

Tommy: The second you get here I’m bout to 👊 

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     Tom called Harrison up after you got off the phone, he needed to make sure his best friend wouldn’t say or do anything to embarrass him in front of you. 

     “Tom, don’t you think this is a bit obsessive? I mean, she’s only staying with us for a week and you already know her so well from spending all that time filming with her.” Harrison sighed, sick of listening to Tom ramble about every possible embarrassing situation he could be put in, in the coming week. 

     “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It's no big deal. But don’t mention that time I accidentally shit my pants at the club, or that time I got hit in the head with a golf ball ‘cus I got distracted by a flock of geese, or that time a got chased by a flock of geese, or—”

     “Geez, mate. At this point we might as well not even talk to her.” Harrison chuckled, thinking of all the stories he could bring up about Tom around the dinner table with you. Tom really was just a walking ball of embarrassing moments. 

     “Stoppp ittt,” Tom whined, “when we were on set it was usually just the cast and Harry around, but you? You could do some real fucking damage to my love life, Haz.” 

     “What love life?” Harrison barked out, laughing. 

     Tom then hung up and began praying to whatever god was out there that this week could go by without a hitch, and then you and him would be on your way, together, to Japan. 

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     The whole week spent in London actually went really well, especially the audition. Tom and Harrison both accompanied you for moral support, well Harrison actually had to be there to be your scene partner, but it was still nice knowing he supported you. 

     The director shook your hand and you went through the normal formalities before beginning your scene with Harrison. It was a quick scene with a monologue in it. The main premise of the movie was all about choosing love over work, especially in dangerous, life-threatening scenarios. The scene you used to audition with Harrison was the scene where the main character, Lincoln, and his lover interest, Mallory, were arguing, trying to push each other away to keep each other safe. The scene had a lot of raw emotion that you were able to tap into, and the directors gave your performance a standing ovation once the scene concluded. 

     They said that they’d get back to you within the next few days, but they also mentioned how the chemistry between you and Harrison was off the charts, leaving you hopeful. Tom and Harrison both gave you hugs and pats on the back. Tom had watched the whole scene unfold and he was in complete and utter awe of your talent. Part of him was annoyed that he didn’t audition for the movie and a chance as your love interest. But Harrison deserved this big break and so did you, so he was hopeful of the outcome being something that benefitted both of his best friends. 

    After the audition the rest of the week went by nearly perfectly. The real kicker was when Tom’s family invited you and Harrison to join them for dinner. Tom had not anticipated his mom asking you to come to family dinner, so he wasn’t able to stop the embarrassing anecdotes his mom told on his behalf. 

     “Tom had the cutest little tush,” Nikki exclaimed, placing the old homemade scrapbook in your lap and flipping through a couple of pages. “See look,” she happily pointed to a picture of Tom as a toddler in a bath, surrounded by bubbles, his little bum poking through them. 

     Tom sat uncomfortably on the sofa next to you, cringing at the now 21 year old photo of him. He expected you to also cringe along, or worse case scenario, get up and make a flimsy excuse to leave his crazy family, but you just chuckled along with Nikki and continued making your way through the scrapbook, making little comments here and there. 

     “Oh, and this one,” Nikki said, pointing to a photo of Tom crying and Sam holding up a superhero action figure triumphantly, “that was Tom’s favorite toy, but when Sam saw how much Tom liked it, he made an effort to always be playing with it when Tom came into the room and he wouldn’t share.”

     You giggled at the little whiny face Tom made in the picture, and turned to him, replicating it on your face, making fun of him. Tom laughed along and playfully shoved you. He adored how well you seemed to fit in with his family and his feelings for you only multiplied. 

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     The week in London was one of the best in your life. You didn’t realize how much you missed Tom until you got to the airport and he was there waiting for you, unfortunately in his stupid blue beanie, and no, it wasn’t on right, his big ears poked out of it horrendously. 

     The last day you had in London before you and Tom went to Japan, you finally received a call about the audition. The director called you to congratulate you on getting the part, and he sent you numerous emails about scheduling, where to be, and when. Harrison was elated to have a familiar face playing his love interest on screen, and Tom was over the moon excited for you, this on top of the Spider-man movie coming out, you were certainly becoming a force to be reckoned with. 

     You spent the night celebrating at a club, Harry and Sam also showed up to party with you. The night was still young and the club was already packed and in full swing. Tom ordered two shots for each of you to start off the night before he was whisked away by a few fans to sign autographs. When he didn’t return you took it upon yourself to have his shots, giving you an extra edge to help spice up your night. 

     Harrison found Tom in the corner of the club talking to some fans. But throughout his whole time taking pictures with them, he couldn’t help but glance at you every once and a while. You looked so carefree and beautiful, dancing around in your shiny silver top and leather leggings. 

      “Tom.” Harrison interrupted Tom’s gawking and directed his attention to the small group of fans Tom was with. 

     Tom nodded and finished up his pictures and autographs before wishing them all a good and safe night. Once he reached you, you engulfed him in a bone crushing hug. 

     “Thank you for such a great time in London, Tommy.” you slurred, already feeling the impact of the four shots you took. “I had the best time of my whole life.” You pecked his cheek and pulled him close to dance with you. 

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     The following month or so on the press tour was a once in a lifetime experience. You travelled to more cities than you even knew the name of and you had all of your friends by your side. More so, you had motivation to remain approachable and well liked by fans considering that you were moving up in the industry. Some interviews were mostly for Tom, Zendaya, and Jacob. Your role in the movie was big enough for you to be needed for some interviews, and most people were genuinely interested in getting to know you, but there were also a handful of press activities that you weren’t included in, which you didn’t mind. 

     When you didn’t have anything to do for an hour or so, you would text Harrison and send him funny memes. He was quickly becoming one of your closest friends; you had already created a surplus of inside jokes with him just over the phone. 

     Tom noticed how you were always laughing at your phone or rapid fire texting. Even when you were being interviewed, Tom could faintly hear the buzz of your text message notifications going off. 

     “Tom,” you snapped in front of his eyes, “did you need something?” 

     “Huh?” Tom blinked a few times, “Uh—no, sorry.” Tom’s cheeks flushed pink, embarrassed for having been caught staring at you. He couldn’t help it though, you were dressed so pretty that day. You had your hair done up in two bubble braids and you wore his pink sweatshirt over your yellow sundress. 

     “Okay then.” You smiled at him. You went back to your phone, reading what Harrison had just texted you. “What was the name of that comedian we watched the other night?” 

     “The one on Netflix?” 

     You hummed out a yes, tapping away at your phone. 

     “Burt Kreisher, why?” Tom asked, leaning over to your chair to try and catch a glimpse of who you were texting. When he saw the contact name “Hazzy”, he couldn't stop the little angry pit of jealousy that started in his stomach. Sure, you were here with him now, not with Harrison, but when you two were apart you also texted him nonstop, and the texts seemed to all be inside jokes, which was something you also shared with him that he held near and dear.

     “I made a joke referencing him to Harrison and he didn’t get it. Fucking nerd.” You chuckled, texting Harrison a link to the skit you were referring to. 

     Tom chuckled along, but he couldn’t help but frown slightly at how bright your smile was when Harrison replied. 

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     The press tour and premiere of the movie seemed to go by lighting fast. You’d never been to a premiere for a production this big, and your nerves for the red carpet were starting to get to you. 

     You and Zendaya were stuffed into a hotel room with both of your respective teams, both trying to rapidly get both of you ready for the event. 

     “So when do you start filming for your next project?” Zendaya asked, she sat in front of a broadway-equse mirror, bright bulbs of light giving a luminescent glow to her already near flawless complexion. She hadn’t even finished her makeup yet and she was so pretty.  

     “In a month, I have to go back to London next week.” You said, sifting through the opinions you brought for dresses. You brought three options, just in case you changed your mind after seeing yourself in the dress. “Harrison and I are going to go over the scripts together and we were also told to go out in public a few times; for press and whatnot.” 

      “That’s exciting!” Zendaya mused, she glanced at the clock and gave her hairdresser some instructions about how much time she had to do hair. “It’s a good thing you guys are already friends. I remember when I filmed ‘The Greatest Showman’ I didn’t know many of the actors personally, so we had to go out together and do press all while being almost strangers. It was a bit nerve wracking.” Zendaya smiled at you fondly, she was like an older sister to you during this whole movie-making process, she constantly had your back. 

     “Yeah, I mean I’ll probably be in a situation like that at some point, but for my first lead role it’s nice to be working opposite a friend.” You smiled back, finally deciding on the red, sequined dress. 

     You both sat and worked through the makeup process in comfortable silence. 

     “So you and Tom…” Zendaya broke the silence and looked at you with a smirk on her face. 

     “What?” You looked at her with a dumbfounded look, before nervously laughing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     “Don’t play dumb, (Y/N/N).” She poked your arm and laughed, “He’s literally obsessed with you.” 

     You laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. A movie star, and very famous movie star at that, obsessed with you? You? Impossible. 

     “Yeah no, sorry but you got the wrong girl, babe.” You sighed, pulling out your phone to snap and selfie with her for your instagram story. You quickly snapped a pic of the two of you, her kissing your cheek, leaving a small, faint lipstick mark. “I mean it’d be nice,” you back tracked, “but I’m sure that’s just my wishful thinking.” 

     “What wishful thinking? I thought you were a pessimist?” Zendaya chuckled, taking her own photo with you to post later. 

     “I am, but I can’t help but indulge a bit.” 

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     Before you knew it, you were back in London, staying in a rented out flat for the next three to four months. Harrison was kind enough to come over to help you set up a work space, but he also offered you to spend most of your time at his place. Since Tom was in New York, doing interviews about the new Spider-man movie and having meetings with the Marvel Cinematic Universe team to try and gauge his future in the MCU, he wouldn’t be around for almost a month, so Harrison offered up Tom’s office when you needed to go over a scene by yourself and wanted a place that was already set up. 

     The days of filming seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. Most of your scenes were with Harrison, and he was the perfect scene partner. He rarely messed up, but if he did then he was quick to use it as an opportunity to improvise. His skills weren’t as well honed in like Tom’s, but it was obvious that their style ranged from a similar source. 

     The main thing about this movie that you were excited, but extremely nervous for, were the two sex scenes. The first one is at the beginning, where the two leads give in to each other for a night, then there's some implied stuff in between, and the last one is when the two leads part ways for the final time at the end of the movie. The first one had to be rough, fast, and needy, whereas the second one was direct to be more slow, thought out, and sensual. 

      Both were extremely stress-inducing to film. Harrison had also never done any scenes like this before, so he was on the same boat as you. Thankfully you had an amazing director and stunt coordinator to work with and with the help of other crew members, the scenes were mapped out so that it wasn’t too much improv or guessing on your part. 

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     The first intimate scene you shot actually happened to be the one at the end of the movie. That scene was more tame and dealt with more emotional subtexts than physical. Since you filmed that one first, you went into filming the next one with more confidence. It only took a few days to get the first scene down to perfection, so with this newfound confidence, it shouldn’t take too long to get the next one done. 

     On the days you shot intimate scenes, you only needed to wear the costume you wore before the scene and then you changed into a robe with nude underwear underneath. The bits with the outfit on before were already shot, so the director called a 30 minute break until you could begin shooting the actual sex part. 

     You were standing by the snack table, eyes scanning the table for any more muffins leftover from breakfast. The robe you wore made your skin prickle whenever a draft came onto set. 

     Just as you had found the muffin you were looking for, a pair of warm hands covered your eyes. 

     “Guess who!” An all too familiar warm, British accentuated, voice called. 

      You turned around in his arms, effectively nudging his hands from your face, and soon you were met with the warmest hazel eyes. Eyes that you missed so much this past month. 

      “Tommy!” You squealed and thrusted yourself into him in a hug. He immediately reciprocated it and wrapped your body in warmth. “What’re you doing here?” You asked once you let go of him. 

      “Harrison gave me the location so I could come watch you film. I just got home, like, two days ago.” Tom eyed you up and down, not realizing what little you had on. “Um—are you wearing anything under that?” He pointed up and down your figure. 

     “Nope, today and tomorrow we’re scheduled to film the sex scene.” You said casually, doing a silly twirl. Tom gulped. 

     “A s-sex scene?” He choked, “I didn’t know you guys had one.” 

     “Yup,” you smirked, “two actually, this is my first one ever, Haz’s too, I think. Well actually, we filmed the sex scene at the end of the movie last week.” 

     “Yeah… t-that’s cool.” Tom smiled weakly. 

     Right as you were about to continue your conversation with Tom, an arm swung over your shoulder and pulled you close. Harrison smiled at the both of you. He wore a similar robe to yours, except he left the front open. His plaid boxers on full display. 

     “Don’t listen to her, Tom. She’s a natural.” Harrison pinched your cheeks. Tom clenched his jaw at the comment. He knew Harrison hadn't meant to imply anything with it, but he couldn't help but hear the hidden meaning behind the otherwise innocent compliment. 

      You giggled and pushed his hand away, “Only ‘cus my scene partner is so darn cute.” You retaliated, poking and tickling his pecs. 

      This kind of goofy banter was normal between you and Harrison, but Tom hadn’t seen either of you in so long. He also had never seen you two interact so fluently with each other. He watched the interaction with a tight-lipped smile, nodding along and shrugging every once in a while to seem like he was paying attention. In reality though, he couldn’t pry his thoughts away from how close you were to Harrison. 

     “Ok everyone! Places! Let’s wrap this scene up and put it to rest today!” Your director called. You and Harrison smiled and waved goodbye to Tom. Harrison pointed to a chair in the room that had a nice view of the set where Tom could watch. Tom nodded and walked over to the chair, enthusiasm for watching you work completely dissipating. 

     The scene started off rough right off the bat. The second the director said ‘Action!’ you and Harrison were practically pouncing on each other. Harrison had you pressed up against the wall and you were both breathing heavily. He was leaving sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, then across your collar bones. Your moans, which Tom always imagined to sound like music to his ears, sounded too real for his liking. But no matter how much he tried to look away, his eyes were glued to the two bodies moving fluidly with one another. 

     “Cut! Cut!” The director yelled, effectively ending the scene. You and Harrison pulled apart and he gave you a peck on the cheek, as in saying ‘good job’. “That was good, but Harrison,” The blonde nodded, awaiting further instruction. “You gotta be a little rougher, hm?” 

     Harrison nodded along with the critique. “(Y/N)?” the director moved his attention to you, “would it be okay if Harrison marked you up? Just a few hickeys to really sell the illusion. We can do without, though, if you feel uncomfortable.” 

     Tom overheard the interaction and internally hoped that you were too uncomfortable for that, but deep down he knew you would do it. You were never the type to stray away from a challenge. 

     “Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded, chest still heaving from the scene. You looked at Harrison. “Is that okay with you?” 

     Harrison nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. Yeah, you guys have been working at this scene for days now, but he’d never been rough enough to leave marks. He’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t invigorate him. 

     So the scene started from the top, you pressed up against the wall, all your weight shoved between the flimsy wall of the set and Harrison’s strong arms. Harrison did exactly as the director required, leaving noticeable dark spots across the top of your chest. Unlike your previous moans, which had just been for show, this new roughness in his actions tore real moans from your lips. 

     Tom sat uncomfortably in his chair, wishing he picked a different day to visit you on set. He shifted around, watching twin moans pull from both you and Harrison’s throat. He watched as you nipped at Harrison's ear as he faux thrusted into you. The jealousy that had pitted itself in his stomach soon turned to self-loathing. You looked really into the scene, he couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding. He knew you were a great actress, but he couldn’t believe that this was all acting. In his eyes, he believed that some part of you must wish that this was real. And part of you did like this scenario, but you wouldn’t have picked Harrison to be opposite you in this little fantasy. 

     Your moans and Harrisons both grew louder, leading up to the climax as scripted. Tom, not wanting to watch anymore exited the set quickly before he could watch the scene end. 

     You and Harrison finished up, gaining applause and praise afterwards from the director and crew members on set. 

     “Where’s Tom?” You asked, scrambling back into your robe and smoothing out your now roughed up hair. 

     Harrison, now noticing the absence of his best friend, began to feel a bit guilty. He knew Tom had a thing for you, maybe he should’ve told Tom not to visit set today. 

     “Um, (Y/N)?” He mumbled, pulling you aside slightly. 

     “Yeah?” You still looked around for Tom a bit, heart sinking when you realized that he must've left without saying goodbye. 

      “I shouldn’t be the one telling you this,” Harrison began, drawing your full attention, “but Tom really likes you. He always downplayed it, so I didn’t realize how much, but I think watching this scene might’ve upset him a bit.” Harrison looked towards the exit, no doubtedly where Tom left through, out into the parking lot. 

     “Oh—oh!” You gasped, feeling terribly for having put Tom in such an awkward position. “I didn’t know he felt the same.” You whispered, smiling softly to yourself. Guess Z was right after all. You pulled away from Harrison, “I’ll go talk to him.” 

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      Tom didn’t go far. He still wanted to be there to support you; he didn’t want to come off as a jealous prick, but he couldn’t keep watching that intimacy between you and his best friend. He sat on the curb outside of the building the set was built in. A few people passed him going to their designated buildings on the lot, but he didn’t pay any mind to them, too lost in his thoughts. He needed to tell you sooner rather than later how he felt. No time to be a pussy anymore. 

     “Tom?” You walked up next to his sitting figure, still only in a robe, tightly wrapped around you. He looked up to acknowledge you, mumbling a soft ‘Hey.’ before looking back down, trying to collect his thoughts and courage. It’s now or never. 

     You sat beside him and rested your head on his shoulder. “Harrison told me something interesting in there,” You paused for a moment before continuing, “about you.” 

     Tom’s head shot up, and he looked at you with frantic eyes, only imagining the worse. There were too many things Harrison could’ve told you about Tom to sully your image of him. 

     “Whatever it was, he's a lying prick!” Tom rushed out. 

     You giggled, lifting your head up to look him in the eyes, his dark hazel eyes boring into yours. 

     “That’s a shame then,” You shrugged, “considering I like you too.” 

     Tom breathed out a sigh of relief, before looking back at you, doing a double take. 

    “Wait, what?” 

     “Mhm, yeah.” You said casually, standing up. “But since Harrison’s a liar then I suppose he was wrong.” You teased. 

     “No!” Tom grabbed your wrist and pulled you back next to him, but his aim was a bit off and you ended up in his lap. “He lies about a lot, but not about this.”

     You smiled at him, “I should hope not, considering I’m crazy about you.” 

     Tom couldn’t help the smile that beamed across his face, but then he noticed the marks left on you by Harrison. Remembering why he was insecure in the first place, he looked away. 

     “What about Harrison?” He asked. You looked at him utterly confused. Tom caught on and explained further. “You looked like you were really into that scene with him.” 

     You giggled and pinched Tom’s cheek, turning it red. “I’m an actress, you idiot.”

     Tom scoffed, “I know that. It’s just— I didn’t realize you could fake that kind of love.” 

     You looked at Tom’s downcast face. You leaned in and kissed his neck, just under his jaw. You nipped and sucked softly, leaving a nice, dark pink blotch that would go away in a few days under his jaw and he whimpered softly.

     “I’d never fake that kind of love with you.” You grabbed his face, holding it gently in your hands. “I’d never have to.” You whispered, pulling him in for a kiss, soft and sweet. 

     Tom pulled you closer, resting a hand on the small of your back, kissing back fervently. 

     The short make-out session being cut short by the door to the set bursting opened. Harrison rushing out, now dressed in slacks and a white button up for the next scene you needed to shoot that day. 

     “(Y/N)! Hair and makeup need you.” You lugged yourself off of Tom’s lap, promising to talk to him after you finished for the day. You went back inside, jokingly blowing a kiss to Harrison on your way. 

     Harrison stayed outside and sat next to Tom. 

     “Did she confess first?” He asked after a moment of silence. 

     “Yup.” Tom smiled happily, licking his lips, tasting the strawberry chapstick he saw you put on earlier. 

     “You owe me 10 pounds then, you wimp.” 

     “Oh, fuck off.” Tom groaned, promptly pulling ten pounds out of his wallet and handing it to Haz.