#pants are a temporary allowance. if that's all you wear then they hate that. you have to be Feminine when they demand

[pinbones]

I've seen a few posts about women and pants now and many of them are very good, and not to nitpick those posts or downplay religious sexism or anything, but I have to emphasise:

Somebody who DOESN'T live in a controlling religious country/cult/family is also affected by sexism. We all know that, right? Secular parts of the first world also have opinions about how women dress, including when it comes to trousers, especially in childhood and in institutions like schools and the workplace

Me and many people my age (20s) remember being forced into skirts, punished and shamed by parents & teachers & peers & possibly then bosses about what we wear not being feminine enough, and it wasn't by deeply religious sects. Many updates to dress codes are very new and sexist views are still in place in many institutions. Normalised societal misogyny wants women (and people they want to treat as women) to dress femininely, down to what KIND of pants they're allowed to wear (compare a pink top and jeggings to mens jeans and tell me these two women are treated the same. Hating women in pantsuits is still a sexist office joke today, and even those outfits are feminine compared to male suits, which raise eyebrows when worn by women). The women I know who wear trousers regularly are literally otherwise feminine, and all wear dresses to events.

I know trousers have become much more normalised over the past few decades in secular society (yay!! the result of many many years of effort and lawbreaking) but let's not be absolute when we talk about the pants concept lol. Especially within a larger conversation about female/transmasc/intersex/transfem masculinity and social perceptions, especially in an age of rising fascism

[heytheredelulu]

Anon request: “could you do something enemies/rivals where bucky accidentally finds out that you have a mirror kink during a training session?”

Yes, absofuckinglutely yes.

Watch Me

Rival!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count 2.4k

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Language, fingering, size kink, mirror kink, choking, degradation (Bucky calls reader a slut once), hate sex (p-in-v unprotected), one lil spank, no aftercare and Bucky’s kind of an asshole.

“You’re distracted!” Bucky grunts, landing another painful blow to your gut, causing you to stumble backwards as he effectively knocks the wind out of you again.

“Just shut up, Barnes!” You snap back, resting your hands on your knees as you hunch over and work to catch your breath.

He wasn’t wrong, you were completely distracted. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from the wall of mirrors behind him and it only made it that much easier for him to land hit after fucking hit.

You may absolutely loathed the man but it didn’t change the fact that the way his muscles flexed in his back and biceps in the reflection of the mirror behind him as he pummeled you with his fists sent your mind reeling with thoughts of how those toned muscles would feel under your hands, your lips, your tongue.

Why couldn’t this man wear a goddamned shir-

He strikes you hard in the chest despite you being bent over and at rest and you stagger back in shock, the force of it having you struggling to maintain your balance and remain upright. Your temporary disorientation allows him the opportunity to wrap his right arm around your neck and pull you into a sleeper hold.

“Wanna tell me why you keep lookin’ in that mirror?” He breathes against your ear, his tone assuring you that there’s a smirk creeping across his stupid fucking face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You pant through gritted teeth, jerking your shoulders against his arm, working to free yourself from his chokehold.

He shakes his head, a sardonic laugh rumbling up from his chest as his forearm tightens across your windpipe. “Tap out.” He orders. “You can’t fucking handle me, princess. You don’t belong in the field. You’re weak. It’s pathetic.” His voice is low and cruel as you continue to struggle. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, or worse- get one of us killed.”

Rage simmers in your belly at his comment but the shame you feel from the truth of it is evident in the crimson blush creeping across your face.

He was right again.

You were weak.

That’s exactly why Tony had scheduled you to spar with him. Had you not been explicitly instructed to have training sessions by Tony Stark himself, you wouldn’t be caught dead alone in a room Bucky fucking Barnes and his smug ass attitude. It was no secret that this man was the bane of your existence, taking every opportunity to pick a fight and belittle you in front of everyone regardless of the time, place or context.

Unfortunately when it came to hand to hand combat, he was the most skilled out of anyone else on the team. so it made sense to pair you with him for training despite how much you had protested the idea. As you spent the last hour getting taunted and insulted while simultaneously having your ass handed to you, you couldn’t help but feel like Tony was just putting you in a room with him for his own amusement.

The anger overtakes the shame and you grit your teeth, bringing your head forward before slamming it back into his face with all the strength you could muster, pain erupting across the crown of your head. Bucky releases you, stunned and furious, bringing his fingertips up to swipe away the trickle of blood that trailed from his nostril. He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his cerulean eyes narrowing.

“A fucking headbutt? Are you kidding me?” He shouts, advancing on you. “You’re supposed to grab onto your opponent’s arm, bend your knees, sidestep and roll me off your back! Have you paid attention to anything I’ve told you?” He asks, leaning over you with a menacing glare. “You could’ve given yourself a goddamn concussion, you idiot!”

You scoff, stepping up on your tiptoes in an attempt to to make yourself appear taller, more confident but you nearly shrink right back down when the scent of his cologne mingled with the musk of his sweat hits your nostrils.

Goddamnit, he smells like cedarwood and sin.

“I was paying attention! Do you really expect me to be able to roll your big ass over my back? That’s impossible!” You argue.

“Bullshit. You’re distracted. You’ve been distracted this entire time.” He growls, prodding a finger into your chest.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You threaten, moving to swat his hand away but he’s quicker and snatches your wrist.

“Don’t touch you?”

Bucky leans down further and you stiffen at his sudden closeness.

“I think you like when I touch you.” He taunts, tightening his metal hand around your wrist and spinning you away from him to face the line of mirrors across the wall.

“Fuck you, Barnes.”

“You want to, don’t you?” He asks in a low voice as he leans in behind you, trailing his flesh hand up your abdomen and closing it around your throat. You don’t reply, unable to form a coherent thought when his body dwarfs yours, towering over you from behind. He closes in, pressing his bare, sweat slicked chest against your upper back, drawing a sharp breath from your lungs when the length of his hard cock in his gym shorts settles against the curve of your ass.

“I think you forget.” He whispers, the light stubble across his jaw brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks.

“Super soldier. I’m enhanced. My senses are enhanced.”

His hand tightens around your throat, your pulse fluttering against his palm.

“I can hear your heartbeat, princess.” He taunts, his breathy chuckle fanning against your skin before he nips at your earlobe and goosebumps prickle across your skin.

“I can smell how badly your cunt is aching for me.”

Your eyes widen in response to his brazen statement and you make a move to step out of his hold but he splays his large hand across your stomach and tuts at you.

“Don’t try to deny it.” He whispers, his metal hand slowly working its way down your body. “You know, it’s funny. You say you hate me, but your body’s betraying you.” His cool fingers tease at the waistband of your leggings and your breath hitches, your eyes slipping shut.

“I bet if I were to just-“

Your hand catches his wrist before his fingers can trek any further and you shake your head. “No.” You mumble, opening your eyes and connecting your gaze with his in the mirror.

“Why?” He asks, brushing his lips against your neck. You tilt your chin up, granting him further access and he chuckles against your skin when you avoid answering his question.

“Because you don’t want to? Or because you hate me so much you don’t want me to be right?” He asks quietly.

You open your mouth to reply but the only sound that slips out is a moan when he proceeds to dip his fingers beneath your waist band, ghosting a finger across your slick folds.

“That’s what I thought.” He whispers, gathering your arousal on your fingers and tracing them along your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“Jesus, Princess. You’re so fucking wet.”

You groan, trying desperately to remind yourself just how much you loathe this man but every brush of his fingers against your clit pulls you further and further away from logic.

Fuck it.

You arch your back against him and hook your thumbs in your waistband, tugging your leggings and panties down and kicking them aside in a hurry. Your eyes are completely fixed on the mirror, staring at his hand cupping your cunt and you place your hand atop his, guiding his metal fingers towards your entrance.

“Oh, is that right?” He teases, his finger poised at your weeping hole but denying you of what you so desperately want.

“I had a hunch when you couldn’t take your eyes off my reflection earlier but now I know for sure.”

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You whisper harshly, grinding your backside against his erection.

“I know.”

He sinks a single metal finger into your wet heat and you gasp at the sensation, keeping your eyes locked on your reflection as he pumps into you, his breath growing heavy against your neck as he adds a second finger, letting out a low groan when he’s met with resistance.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He murmurs, grazing his teeth along the tender flesh of your neck.

“I'm gonna have to open you up, princess.”

You whimper, your head falling back to rest against his shoulder as he scissors his fingers inside your cunt, massaging your inner walls and working to add a third finger. A cry escapes your throat at the intrusion, your hand flying up and carding in his hair to steady yourself.

“I’m gonna bury my cock in this tight little cunt.” He purrs, rocking his fingers into you, his palm grinding against your clit and your impending orgasm causing your pussy to flutter around his fingers. He grips your jaw and roughly tilts your head back down to look in the mirror. “You're gonna watch me when I make you come.” He growls, fucking his fingers into you at a steady pace, your arousal creating an obscene squelch with every pump of his hand.

Your eyes trail up the reflection of your body as it writhes in pleasure under his touch and your eyes connect with his. Your mouth falls open, a broken cry falling from your lips as your walls clench around his fingers and you break under the gaze of his blue, lust-blown eyes. He hums, his grip on your jaw loosening and he turns your head, capturing your mouth in a deep and passionate kiss as he withdraws his fingers from inside you. “Take my cock out.” He murmurs against your lips, his low voice carrying demand while grasping your wrist and guiding your hand to palm the aching erection tented in his gym shorts.

You don’t hesitate to follow his instruction, reaching under his waistband and curling your hand around him, letting out whine when you realize you can’t close your hand completely around his girth.

“I told you.” He whispers, peppering kisses across your jaw. “I needed to open you up for me.”

You release a shuddered breath and he pushes down on the small of your back to urge you to lean forward, his metal fingers tracing along your shoulder and down your arm to settle atop your hand. He brings it to the mirror, interlocking your fingers with his and pressing it against the glass.

“I’m not gonna be gentle. You know that, right?” He asks in a low voice, dragging the head of his cock along your slick folds. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and choke back a moan as he releases your hand and widens his stance.

You watch as his eyes drop to your ass, his large palm resting flat against it to hold you steady while he grasps the base of his cock and presses himself against your entrance. You raise your other hand to the mirror, leaning forward with a bowed head and brace yourself against it as the sweet sting of him stretching you steals the air from your lungs.

“I don’t want you to be.” You breathe out, lifting your head weakly and connecting your gaze with his as he settles his hands on your waist.

No sooner than the words leave your mouth, he’s drawing his hips back, withdrawing almost completely before he slams back into you with bruising force. You let out a strangled cry, your eyes rolling back as he thrusts into you at a merciless pace.

A harsh slap to your ass directs your attention back up to his reflection where his hungry eyes are still fixated on you.

“I thought I told you to watch me when I make you come.” He grunts, pulling a sharp breath from you as he snaps his hips forward and kisses your cervix with the tip of his weeping cock. He slides his hand down across your pubic bone and slips it down between your folds to tease your throbbing clit. His fingers work quick, tight circles across your sensitive bud, igniting a fire low in your belly and spreading heat under your skin.

“You like that, huh?” He taunts, his voice low and husky as he fucks into you with unrelenting tempo. “You like to watch yourself when you’re getting fucked, don’t you? Kinky little slut.”

“Bucky, I-”

You lose your words in a choked sob, arching your back as your cunt spasms and contracts around his cock, your knees threatening to buckle under the wave of euphoria crashing over your body.

“That’s right Princess, come all over my cock.” He moans, his hips stuttering as he trails his fingers away from your swollen clit.

He digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist, chasing his orgasm in deep, brutal thrusts, his heavy sack slick with your release, slapping against your skin with every jerk of his hips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense.

He pulls out abruptly and you lock eyes in the mirror one last time, his brows knitting and his lips parting as he curses your name, frantically fucking his fist and painting your ass with thick ropes of cum.

You press your forehead against the cool glass before you as you work to catch your breath and it’s silent for several long, uncomfortable minutes before you hear the faint rustle of him tugging up his shorts.

You straighten up and turn around to see him moving towards you with his gym bag slung over his shoulder and his t-shirt in his hand.

“Good session.” He says flatly, tossing his t-shirt at you and you catch it, your brows furrowing in confusion. The corners of his mouth twitch up into a smug smirk and he gestures towards your sticky ass.

“I hate you.” You mutter, shame rising up your cheeks in a deep blush as you wipe yourself angrily with his t-shirt.

“I know.” He replies, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice while he turns to leave.

“Same time tomorrow!” He shouts over his shoulder, leaving you alone, ashamed and naked in the gym.

Goddamnit, you fucking hate him.

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@littleone2001 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @22rhianna2006 @fanfictionreaderfan @misshale21 @wintrsoldrluvr

A/N: Thank you anon for this request, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

💋Sj

[luciana-morningstar]

(WARNING CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR IF NOT FOR ME FIC)

One Shot

Donatello x OC (INFM)

Aged Up Characters

Fluff

"Hell Tales"

:: Rainstorm ::

"Why is it always so hot here?" Leonardo complained loudly as he and his brother, who at this point had become a permanent fixture in this realm, walked with steady purpose across a large expanse of tall gray grass. The whispy edges tickled at his fingertips as he passed by.

"Did you really just ask me why it is always hot...in Hell? Come now, Nardo, even you can't be that dense." Donatello stopped and turned to give his brother an exasperated look, his dark brown eyes glinting with irritation, even if it was only mild.

"Ooookaaayyyy. So...I guess it was a stupid question." Leo smirked, his shoulders lifting in a shrug.

Don rolled his own eyes and turned back towards the path they were on.

Leo took notice that he was, finally, not wearing his armor. The creepy Oni faced helmet gave him the creeps and he was thankful his brother had chosen not to done that particular apparel today. Instead he seemed to be more relaxed in a pair of only slightly worn black pants and a dark purple wife beater tucked in. His old belt with their signature 'Mad Dogs' M emblazoned in green, held the clearly ill-fitted pants over his slim waist and his black work boots only made a soft thud as they walked the dirt path up towards the palace.

The strangest thing stopped them in their tracks though.

One....

Two....

Three.....

Droplets of warm water were falling from the sky that had suddenly darkened with heavy, roiling thunder clouds.

"Rain? It rains in Hell?" Leo looked towards the sky as the rain started to fall more steadily. "That's so weird." He smiled though, glad of the temporary relief from the heat the rain had brought with it.

His gaze fell back to Donnie who was looking at the sky with an expression devoid of any distinguishable emotion, it was just his eyes that always told the truth.

Donnie's face was a mask of indifference.

Donnie's eyes said he was concerned, maybe even a little panicked.

"Donnie? What's up?" Leo reached out a tentative hand towards his brother's shoulder, hesitating, just hovering over it incase he didn't want the offered comfort of touch.

Donnie didn't seem to notice as his eyes scanned the sky continuously, as if he wasn't sure he was seeing the clouds correctly and if he stared long enough they would disappear.

Leo decided to go for broke then and let his hand rest gently on Don's shoulder.

The reaction was immediate but not negative as Leo had anticipated. Donnie tore his gaze from the sky anx looked back towards the palace then turned his dark brown eyes back to Leo.

"We have to get back." Was all he said before he turned away and started walking more briskly down the path.

"What's the matter?" Leo jogged to catch up with his brother and his decidedly long strides, damn him and his long ass legs.

"It's not supposed to rain in Hell." Donnie answered vaguely, the cadence of his tone was dark as he picked up the pace even more. They were both jogging now.

"Then...news flash....maybe you guys need to hire a weatherman. I hate to break it to ya, Donnie but.... it's definitely raining." Leo panted beside his brother who didn't even seem winded.

Fuckin fallen and their enhanced athleticism.

As they reached the massive wooden doors to the main foyer of the palace Donnie stopped and gave his brother a more animated expression of irritation, his lips lifting in a half hearted snarl, sharp canines glinting for just a moment.

"Leo....I...I can't deal with you right now." Don turned and pressed his palm flat against the surface of the huge door and Leo watched in curiosity as, with a sound like a soft sigh, the door opened slowly, allowing them entrance.

The purple masked turtle strode within the shadowed foyer, his own shadow swallowed up any light from the stained glass windows above them even with the added flashes of lightning from the thunderheads.

"Where are you going?" Leo called to his brother's back.

"To see if I can get it to stop raining." Don called back as he disappeared down a long corridor.

---

Donatello glanced around another corner and furrowed his brow in frustration.

"Where are you?" He had already reached out mentally for Luciana but her end of their bond was shut down tight. He could feel her emotions tossing and turning on the other side of her mental wall, like a raging tempest in open waters. Wave after wave crashed against the wall, the reverberations cresting over the edge and giving him some semblence of what was wrong.

Something had her feeling angry, worried, and most of all was a feeling of abandonment.

He sighed, rubbing at his temples as he kept a steady brisk pace down the next corridor which brought him to a set of spiral steps.

He had never gone up into the spires of the palace. In all honesty he hadn't known he could.

Taking the steps two at a time he ascended them quickly and paused outside the threshold of a room. Relief flooded over him like a tidal wave as he caught sight of his wife. Her back to him as she sat on the floor of the room facing the window.

She was holding something in her hands and he was momentarily grateful that at this moment she was not yet in tears.

"Luciana?" He stepped slowly into the room and glanced around. It appeared to be a child's bedroom. Decorated in soft mauve and dark purple with a small twin bed at one side and the typical furnishings of a dresser, and an armoire of dark wood.

Old artwork was tacked to the walla still and he wondered briefly who's room this was. But it only took him a moment to realize the answer to his own question.

"This used to be your room?" He asked her as he stood behind her, his gaze trailed out the window of the spire and he realized he could see the entire expanse of the field of gray grass and the Fizzgip trees, yes, oddly named but they were named for their fruit...again...ofd. But it was really good.

He could see her garden too and all of the peonies that it was bursting with at all times.

"Yea. I wasn't super close with my dad yet so I wanted space...what with everything that had happened before that...he let me make this my room. Mephisto still clings to this spire sometimes. He would visit me, clinging to the wall outside while I leaned out the window like some sort of princess locked away in her tower, talking to her pet." She chuckled to herself.

"That is not what has upset you though. It is raining outside...." Donatello crouched down behind her, still able to look over her shoulder since he was larger than her.

A large box was open before her and within were mementos and figurines and lots of pictures.

He startled at the images that included her mother. He hadn't expected to see her face again.

"You are correct..." She responded softly, her fingers brushing reverently against the faded photos.

"Your mother upsets you even though she is long gone from this world and the next?" He asked her, genuinely confused as to what the problem was.

"It's not that she has upset me. She can't. She's Destroyed. It's....the memories. We were so close when I was younger....I...she was my best friend. Where did it all go wrong? Why did she have to turn into....such a monster?" Don watched his wife's hand shake as she set the photos she had been holding back into the box and closed the lid.

"That is a question I have often wondered myself. But we can never know, love." He reached forward and let his fingers brush against her arm and he only startled slightly when she whipped around and faced him with dark green eyes that welled with frightened tears.

"What if I turn into a monster? What if I do the same things to Eris? Or or this baby?" Her hands fluttered over her barely showing baby bump, covered by the comfortable Greecian dress she wore made of layers of lustrous celadon fabric. The green color contrasting remarkably with her wine red locks, braided loosely and her opaline pale skin.

"Is that what has you casting rainstorms around?" Don couldn't help but smile, but he regretted it in an instant as the tears in her eyes spilled over.

Oh, sweet Satan, curse pregnancy hormones.

"No no no. None of that. Come here." He sat back on the floor, opening his arms to her. She climbed into his lap, tucking herself into the circle of his arms and burrowing her face into his neck. Hiccuping little sobs. He brought one of his hands up to the back of her neck, massaging gently there.

"Luciana, moon of my life, you are not your mother. And you never will be. If anyone is a bad parent it's me. I wasn't there for the first two years of my daughter's life." He felt her attempt at a small shaky laugh as she lifted her head to look at him with teary puffy red eyes.

"You were dead, Don, no one exactly expected you to be there. It's not like you're a dead beat dad." Her brows knitted together in puzzlement. He chuckled at her expression and softly nuzzled his beak against the tip of her petite nose.

"Not a good enough excuse in my book." At that she rolled her eyes and he delighted in the small smirk he got out of her.

"You don't think it's like a hereditary thing that I'll just...turn into a shitty mother and hurt my kids?" She blinked those big green eyes at him, eyes that captivated him in their complexity, he swore every time he looked close enough he found new shimmering colors within their dark evergreen depths.

"No. While the concept of hereditary behavior traits is a complex topic. I do not think shitty behavior towards a child is hereditary. Your mother wasn't suffering from a behavior ailment. She was simply abusive...spitefully so. And no I do not believe that her substance abuse is something that you will inherit either. You are already a fantastic mother. Eris is magnificent and happy and that is all because of you, dearest." He pecked her forehead lightly.

She tucked her face back into the crook of his neck and sighed contentedly as his hand still massaged at the back of her own neck.

"If I ever do start acting like that...just promise me you will protect them...even if it's from me." He felt her breath flutter against his skin, warm and feathery soft. He couldn't make that promise. Didn't she know that? He sucked at lying too. He had definitely gotten better at it but he could never, would never, lie to her. Never her.

"Luciana I will do everything in my power to protect all of you." He leaned back so he could press his lips to her temple and breathe in the intoxicating scent that she carried on her at all times, only for him, peonies and strawberries.

"Good enough.." she whispered back softly, pressing her own petal soft lips against his neck. "Will you stay with me? I know you were working on stuff but..."

"I will stay with you." He didn't need to be asked twice.

"Thank you......I love you." She kissed his neck again and he smiled in hidden mirth, his cheek rubbing against her hair.

"You do? And here I thought you kept me around for a good laugh here and there, free tech service maybe." He grinned broadly as she swatted at his chest.

"Take me back to our room and I will show you just how much I love you." She nipped at the place where his shoulder and neck met, the exact place her mark, scars from her teeth, was located.

Don growled, a low rumble that vibrated within his plastron as he deftly lifted her up into his arms as he stood, causing her to squeal from the abrupt movement and giggle when he spun around and quickly exited the room to descend the stairs.

"In a hurry?" She leaned her head back to smile up at him.

"Perhaps. But it us only because I do so love when you prove me wrong."

As she laughed joyfully, carried in his arms bridal style down the many corridors to their large room, he caught a glimpse of the outside through one of the many stained glass windows and his smile turned from flirtatious to relieved.

The thunderheads had disappeared. Leaving only the familiar pastel orange and pink clouds lit by the light of the duel suns that rode high in the sky, one blue and one orange.

The rain had gone.

He had succeeded in this small mission and the triumph swelled in him as he glanced down into those luminous green eyes.

The rain had gone and all that remained was love. Always love.

[tyviolett]

Aether x Xiao: A big guardian.

Chapter 3:

The change had come about subtly. At first, neither of them noticed, as they were simply nightly dates. Dinners outdoors, or at some other establishment. But several weeks later, the little time to eat together each night had transformed into two little times: lunch and dinner. It turned out that for Xiao, food had become a guilty pleasure. A yashka didn't need to eat, although he knew that adeptus could and did have favorite dishes. Cloud Keeper, for example, greatly enjoyed tea, and several of the more traditional dishes of Liyue. For him, it was all about the taste...and the fact that he had subconsciously associated delicious food with Aether. Probably due to eating together every day.

Soon, just a couple of months later, even though he was alone and struggling in his labor, often seeing trees with fruit, Xiao would allow himself to eat one...or two. And that was fine, until the yashka's body, accustomed to eating once every few months...suddenly had an abundance of food to process. Xiao gained weight. It wasn't a big deal, at all. A couple of kilos here, more softness in the abdomen and a couple of kilos there. Perhaps, feeling a little heavier after each meal. Nothing serious...until today.

－Xiao! －

It was almost midnight, by one of Liyue's many lakes. Paimon had eaten too much before dinner and was asleep under a tree canopy, and Aether was roasting chicken and mushroom skewers over a campfire, carefully resting them on a large papyrus leaf when they were ready. Eating with Xiao, the hugs afterwards, and the goodbye kiss when it was time for him to leave was undoubtedly the highlight of his days.

The traveler had noticed Xiao's gradual weight gain, but honestly, it didn't bother him at all. Yashka himself seemed to notice the changes in his body but not give them any importance, as if these side effects were temporary. It made sense, for a non-human guardian. Aether was ready to explain that his belly wouldn't magically disappear...when Xiao asked. What was the need to rush things?

－You finally called...－Yashka's voice came in, in the same soft tone as always. He seemed a little sulky.

Aether stood for a moment, hugging him around the waist. His hands rested 'innocently' on the green-haired boy's somewhat plump hip, squeezing gently.

－You can't scold me this time. We see each other every day, so why are you in a bad mood?－the blonde asked, in a slightly playful tone.

Xiao's cheeks flushed at the touch, but far from complaining, he wrapped his arms around Aether's neck, giving him even more freedom. The touches on his waist and stomach felt... good. Even though he hated to admit it.

－My shirt...it's tight. I had to do without what I usually wear adorning it, because...－Xiao's voice lowered even further, clearing his throat and muttering, totally embarrassed.－They don't fit me...my pants are tight too...And it's all because of the delicious food you prepare! A guardian yashka shouldn't look like that.－

Aether smirked. So Xiao had finally noticed. The blond looked down at the green-haired boy's stomach. Plump and round, though still not as big as it could be... he slid his hands over it and caressed it, squeezing a small roll on the side.

－Who says what a yashka should look like? I think you look good, and as long as you can do your job...－Aether mentioned. He reached up and cupped both of her cheeks. They were already feeling a bit softer, in fact.－Are you OK.

－Of course I look good to you, because this was your fault...－Xiao murmured, sighing.－These side effects of eating too much don't bother me...－

Aether stifled a chuckle.－You don't like them? Then I guess you won't want the chicken and mushroom skewers I made today...－The blond commented, moving away and returning to the campfire, taking out the last uncooked skewer.

The fire was still burning, and the yashka sat down next to the traveler. He looked at the skewers for a few moments, sighing. Finally he took one from the stick, unable to resist the delicious aroma.

－Well...meat is healthy, isn't it? I heard it from some merchants in town...it's okay to eat some skewers with you...－Xiao decided.

He moved his body closer to Aether's, pressing their shoulders together, and bit into a piece of chicken. The blond imitated him, and so they both began to eat together. It turned out to be an intimate and romantic moment. They had been in this period of courtship for more than several weeks, and...for both of them it was difficult not to move on to something more.

That moment of dinner together was only interrupted by occasional comments or small anecdotes of what had happened since the previous night until now that they had seen each other again. When there were no more skewers, they both allowed themselves a moment of intimacy, Aether resting his head on the yashka's shoulder.

－I think it's been a long time since...－Xiao began to speak, softly. His expression seemed calm but thoughtful.－I haven't felt true peace for decades.－

The blond looked up at him, but without moving away. He took his hand and began to caress it slowly, encouraging him to continue. Because although it is true that they are closer now, sharing his feelings is something that Xiao is still inexperienced in.

－I never complained about my job. Morax saved me, and I will do my duty forever to thank him. But... I never realized how lonely it can be.－Xiao said, his voice soft. He looked at Aether, a soft blush appearing on his cheeks.－Now that I have you, I can't imagine my life if you were gone. Your presence is something I enjoy. You are certainly different from most humans.－

The traveler gulped, looking at the campfire in front of them both and then turning his gaze back to Xiao. His words were like a caress to the heart. After so much time searching for his sister, Aether had met many people. Kind, generous, unfriendly or arrogant. The only thing they all had in common was that they all wanted something from him. But... Xiao was different. He was like a lonely cat that was afraid to trust others. Maybe that was why they were so attracted to each other.

－Hey, Xiao...－Aether moved away from his shoulder a little, and moved until he was more face to face. His face turned almost as red as a tomato, and after clearing his throat shyly, he looked into the yashka's golden eyes.－I think it's a good time, and...just like you said, I can't imagine my life without you. So, would you allow me to be your partner?－

Not a “Will you be my boyfriend?”, no. For Aether, Xiao being his boyfriend was a privilege that had to be earned. That confession had come out of the blue, really. That is to say, it had sounded harsh to the blond to say it like that, so soon. But he hadn’t been able to help it: the brain doesn’t rule in matters of the heart.

The green-haired guard was silent for a few seconds, clearly surprised. He never imagined that under the stars, on any day of so many when they had dinner together, his beloved traveler would ask him that. And although for Xiao being a couple was a mere label that in no way changed the affection they had for each other, he knew that it was important for humans. So of course he nodded, approaching and kissing his lips in response to that question.

Both of them melted into the kiss. Taking advantage of the grass beneath them to lie down a little, Aether positioned himself over him, his knees on either side of Xiao's right leg, almost seeming to be sitting astride him. His abdomen, flat due to a good metabolism, brushed against Xiao's soft and bulging belly, which trembled at the slightest movement. The blond's hands rested on the ground, while the other caressed his chin, gently raising it to kiss it. At first it was a subtle, almost timid kiss, but it soon escalated. Xiao's hands searched for Aether's thin waist, surrounding it to draw him closer a little, and their breathing soon became agitated, as if they were in a battle. Except it was just the opposite.

－A-ah...Aether..－Xiao gasped against his lips. He closed his eyes and held his breath as he felt one of Aether's hands move, moving down to his abdomen and squeezing one of the fat strips that adorned his waist.－Th-that...feels...－

The blond waited a few moments, kissing Xiao's lips tenderly. He spoke in a whisper, not wanting to upset him.－Relax...we're just going to play a little. You can stop me whenever you want...－

When Xiao nodded, giving the go-ahead and clinging to his neck now, Aether followed, first massaging and squeezing his abdomen gently. Then he slid lower, where he felt the yashka's crotch above his pants. Stopping kissing his lips to see his expression, all flushed and in a slight ecstasy, Aether began to touch and caress the area above the clothes.

－Mgh! A-aether...－

Despite his complaint, the yashka did not impede that intimate contact at all. He even gently opened his legs, bent, giving him more access. The blond could not help but notice how fat his thighs looked now, even hidden under the fabric. Neither of them took too long to decide that they wanted to move on to something more intimate. Touching the clothes was no longer enough, and so, Aether lowered his hand and slid it inside Xiao's pants, feeling the yashka's bulge. His face reddened at the feeling, and he looked at Xiao with some embarrassment.

－Aren't you wearing underwear?－I ask in a low voice, shy.

Xiao gasped, clenching his hands in the traveler's thin brown short-sleeved shirt as he felt his hand underneath. His mind drifted to his abs for a second, completely different from his own belly, that was chubby and soft. Sexy. However, he opened his eyes and blushed like a tomato at the question.

－That... is a human invention... I never felt the need for it...－He replied, his voice almost breaking from embarrassment. Was it wrong not to wear underwear? He never thought about that.

Aether sighed, lowering his head to the yashka's neck, and letting his hands still for a moment. This was very embarrassing.

－Gosh, I...all this time...I didn't know.－

Xiao snorted, looking away.－Is this wrong...?－he asked, his voice almost breaking.

Aether shook his head softly.－No, no. Just... it's very sexy.－The blond murmured, breathing on her neck for a few seconds. When he recovered himself, after imagining and remembering all the times they had seen each other when Xiao hadn't had underwear on, but only his pants, his hands went back to action.

Aether lowered himself slightly, and while one of his hands touched and squeezed Xiao's soft and fluffy stomach, his other hand lowered the seam of Xiao's pants a little, thus making out Xiao's member. A mass of almost perfect flesh, thin and not very large. Caressing the length, Aether observed the pink tip, which was already dripping.

Xiao moaned at the direct contact, using one of his arms to cover his face, while his other hand went to his own breast. With some shyness, the green-haired boy began to massage the area, gasping when his fingers brushed his nipple even through his clothes. Seeing this, Aether left his stomach and took his right hand, moving it away from his face.

－Don't cover yourself...I want to see you.－He asked, his cheeks and his entire face red and flushed. Although embarrassed, the opponent nodded shyly, and lowered his gaze to his own chest, stopping his hand. Seeing him, Aether smiled sideways, with some enthusiasm.－Should I pay attention there too?－

It was more of a rhetorical question, because without waiting for the answer, his free hand pushed up Xiao's tank top a little, until he uncovered his breasts, round and soft, almost like a woman's, and then bent down, giving first a small kiss on the nipple, and then starting to suck. Below, his hand continued to masturbate Xiao. The yashka moaned, ecstatic.

Not long after, the constant stimulation made the green-haired boy cum. He moaned softly, his hands clinging to Aether's neck, and he left his nipples for a moment, moving up to his face and kissing his forehead.

－Are you okay?－he asked in a murmur, removing his hand from around Xiao's member. He got off of him, kneeling on the grass, and used a rag from his backpack to wipe his hand. That was enough for today, he didn't want to overburden the yashka.

Xiao leaned on his arms with some difficulty, managing to sit up, and nodded weakly. He had never experienced such a sensation. It was like being on fire, and then... peace. His gaze fixed on the traveler, and on the bulge in his pants.

－That...－Xiao pointed, watching. Shy, he gulped.－Aren't we going to take care of that?－he asked quietly, while he took something to clean his crotch, and rose on his knees to pull up his pants.

Aether shook his head, smiling. His face looked almost feverish.－N-no, don't worry... It'll pass soon.－

A strange feeling ran through Xiao. Perhaps it was injustice, or desire. Or both. He wanted to taste Aether too, to feel his warmth, to touch him, and... it wasn't fair that he was the only one of the two to be left unsatisfied either. So he crawled over to him, his plump belly gently shaking at the movement, and crouched down on the traveler's thighs. When Aether tried to stop him, embarrassed, Xiao looked up. His expression was something no one could refuse.

－I want to do it... I want to touch you too.－The yashka muttered in a low voice.－Can't...?－

Gulping, Aether sat down on the ground, spreading his legs to give Xiao some room, and placed both of his hands behind him, leaning towards the tree. He nodded softly, giving him the thumbs up.

Xiao, satisfied, timidly opened the taller man's pants. He freed his member from his underwear. It was so hard it almost looked like it was going to explode. The tip, reddish and barely swollen, was dripping with pre-cum, and Xiao found himself touching it with his index finger, a drop remaining on his finger. Blushing, he tasted it, and then bent down, kneeling in front of Aether, his arms braced against the grass.

Xiao swallowed the blond's member in his mouth, first licking the tip, then kissing it, and then pushing it all the way in. His hands sought out the thighs of the traveler, his now boyfriend, in order to have more control, and he began to suck somewhat clumsily, using his tongue to stimulate the tip.

－Ah...Xiao...－Aether moaned. He moved his hand, moving to caress her hair and grip it without too much force, between soft moans of pleasure.

Excited by her reaction, Xiao continued at it, moving his head more eagerly, up and down. Every so often he took the member out of his mouth, to kiss and lick the outside.

－X-Xiao...I'm going to...ugh... I'm going to cum...－the blonde gasped. Throwing his head back, completely aroused, he had to look again as he felt the yashka move.

Xiao, now on top of him, had placed Aether's erect member between his two plump breasts and was using them to masturbate him. The sight was too much for him. Moaning louder, Aether finally came on the yashka's chest and face, his hand clinging to his hair as the semen made its way in.

－Hah...hah...where...－Gasping, Aether let himself fall back. Xiao moved away a little, still kneeling between his legs. It was obvious that the tension they had been building up for years had finally exploded today.－Where did you learn that?－

The blond murmured, sitting up a little more and caressing Yashka's cheek.

－I just...thought it would feel good and...I did it.－Xiao muttered, embarrassed.－I made a mistake?－

－Not at all.－Aether replied with a half smile. He caressed Xiao´s cheek with his thumb, looking at his stained face, and cleared his throat with some sadness.－But, it would be better to go down to the river and clean ourselves, don't you think?－

So, they both stripped off and went to the river, not far from there. Bathing together, under the stars, was definitely the best way to end that day.

[faulty-writes]

Alright, since all you lovely followers of mine seem to enjoy Rumi. I came up with this little idea. I hope you enjoy it.

The 5 Times Rumi Let You Touch Her Tail

You will always remember the first time you touched Mirko's tail, you had originally just wanted her autograph. "Yeah yeah! Speak up there, kid! I don't got all day!" she replied as she stomped over to you, making you feel even smaller than you were. You somehow managed to stutter out what you wanted, but you didn't seem to be up to Mirko's standards.

"Ya gotta be more confident than that," she said with a snicker before reaching over to grasp your chin. Your heart sped up from both her touch and that smirk that played across her face. "But you have such a pretty face, I guess I can do you a damn favor," the chuckle that followed her words wasn't exactly comforting.

"What's your name!?" she demanded, causing you to flinch back. Yet again you managed to stutter out an answer, "I like 'pretty face' more, so that's what I'm gonna call ya from now on!" she snapped your autograph book closed before handing it back to you.

When she turned to walk away, you noticed that fluffy white tail of hers and desperately called out to her. Of course, you felt a little shy to ask her but somehow you managed and to your surprise, Mirko looked shocked or lost as to where the question of touching her tail came from.

"Well, pretty face got confidence that fast huh? I like that!" you cried out when she playfully punched your shoulder. But that was nothing compared to when she grabbed your shirt collar and pulled you close to her. "Do it then," she said, "show me what ya can do when you set out to do it pretty face," you wondered how long that nickname would last.

You hesitantly reached around the curve of her hip until you felt that soft fur brush against your fingertips. Your lips parted in awe as you slowly allowed your fingers to thread through her tail. It was soft and so very fluffy. Mirko seemed to enjoy the small bit of attention, however, it didn't last as long as you would have hoped.

"Getting a little too close to unleashing the real beast in me, pretty face," Mirko said, her tail twitching like mad due to your touch. "I'll see ya later, or maybe never," you frowned as you watched her jump from the pavement and into the air.

You knew this world was dangerous, but you had never imagined getting caught in the middle of a villain attack. It seemed like it happened all at once. Perhaps you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but all you could remember is the explosions and bloodshed.

Luckily, much like they were trained to do. Several heroes came onto the scene and you got a front-row seat to see how they handled the villain. Threats being thrown back and forth before more blood spilled. You happened to be cradled up next to the fellow individuals who had the displeasure of being a part of this terrifying experience.

Then, she arrived. "Having fun without me!? Jeez, what the hell!?" her voice was unmistakable and you heard several gasps and cheers as Mirko flew through the air. Her silver hair flowing behind her and that same smirk you saw before was painted across her face. "I'll kick your ass, you hear me!?" it was strange how one person could give you so much hope.

Despite being covered in soot and minor injuries, you got lost in the moment watching Mirko dish out some punishment. Cracking the pavement with her powerful leg strength and confusing the villain with her speed. Watching them fall bit by bit until they were finally defeated and Mirko was left panting, sweating, and victorious.

"Hell yeah! Think you can actually mess with this rabbit hero?!" she seemed rather happy as the villain was dragged away and the search and comfort of the civilians began. Mirko seemed to spot you right away and offered you her hand, "Ya don't look too damn injured. Shake off your fear!" she instructed as she pulled you to your feet.

But even so, you couldn't help but continue to tremble which caused Mirko to grow confused. She wasn't the best person to provide comfort, "Hey aren't you the kid that wanted my autograph before!? Yeah...yeah pretty face, right!?" she questioned with a confident grin.

"I know what to do," she slowly turned and presented her tail. "Ya liked petting it, right?" she questioned. "Go on then, touch it," she said, almost like you were annoying her. But nonetheless, you did as she instructed and reached over to run your fingers through that soft fur once more.

Normally if someone desired to be a hero, they would enroll into one of the many hero schools Japan offered, but due to selective pickings and strict classroom sizes, this wasn't always possible which meant many of those that wanted to be heroes never got the chance. But due to increased villain activity, your opportunity came.

That is Japan offered the chance for young adults to participate in an advanced hero course which would then permit them to be able to use a temporary hero license under the authority of a trusted pro hero.

"Pff," Mirko couldn't help but snort before her laughter broke through. It wasn't something you appreciated, but in a way, it was nice to see her smile. "Didja finally grow a spine there, pretty face!?" she questioned before slapping you on the back, sporting her famous smirk.

You were originally hesitant to tell her, mostly due to the fact that you were afraid she'd do exactly what she did. Laugh at you, but she didn't seem completely against the idea. But, she let you know her opinion nonetheless. "Guess ya aren't the wimpy wannabe I thought ya were! Don't expect any recommendation from me, but I give ya permission to kick some ass!"

While you were happy with her attempted vote of confidence, you found yourself being nervous yet again to ask Mirko the question that had been plaguing your mind. But she seemed to catch onto the fact that you wanted something. "Speak up!" she snapped. "Your pretty face doesn't look so pretty when you're confused," she said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

You were actually embarrassed to ask, but yet again you found yourself stuttering the question out. That is if you could pet her tail for good luck. Mirko seemed confused, "Ya got a tail petting fetish or something pretty face?!" she rolled her eyes before turning around, her tail wiggling from side to side.

"Just make it quick!" she said, though she was still wearing a smirk and you suspected it was due to the fact she somehow knew you were nervous. But nonetheless, you reached out and allowed your fingers to run through that soft fur for the third time. Who knows? Maybe it would bring you some well-deserved luck.

Pro hero life was more than you thought it would be, it was part exciting and part terrifying. Between the praise and hatred, it was the best and worst of both worlds. Though you weren't high on the charts by any means, you were catching the attention of the existing pro heroes which included Mirko.

It started off as a simple invitation, "Hey there pretty face good job out there!" Mirko said as she yet again slapped you on the back. "I didn't think ya had the spine to back you up but turns out I was wrong," her words made you feel a little better, but you had never expected her to ask you what she did next.

Drinking wasn't normally something you did, and this would probably be the last time you experienced it. But you couldn't honestly turn down an invitation to drink with one of the top female heroes. So you accepted, but you should have known the consequences of going out in public with Mirko.

"Another round, damn it!" Mirko screamed as she slammed the shot glass back onto the counter, it was safe to say you were beyond tipsy at this point as you could only laugh at the rabbit hero's antics. You lazily draped your arm around her shoulders and repeated the order. By the end of the night, you were too intoxicated to remember the series of events that led to Mirko bringing you home.

But when you woke in the morning, it wasn't that hard to figure out what had happened. Your head was pulsing, painfully aching as a cruel reminder of your irresponsible actions. But what shocked you more was the fact you had woken up next to Mirko who still happened to be sleeping away peacefully.

How could you help yourself? You'd never try to purposely take advantage of anyone. But seeing the rabbit hero sprawled out on the bed, covered by nothing but a thin sheet was a sight most could only hope to see. However, you were more focused on that tail that peeked out from under the sheet. You just hoped you wouldn't wake her as you reached over to once again pet that tail.

The news was a shock to the hero world, the previously known solo hero was engaged. Most thought it wouldn't happen, in fact, heroes almost never got the chance at their own happy ending due to their dedication to saving others. But, Mirko seemed to want to prove the world wrong.

You hadn't expected it, but throughout your hero career, Mirko and yourself had your special moments. Despite her own rule of avoiding love and not getting into any messy relationships. But somehow you were the exception, hell maybe you put a spell on her the first time you met, or maybe you were just special.

Either way, she found that she was growing overly attached to you. Making hasty decisions and she hated it. There had to be a way to solve this, to figure out how to rid herself of the constant worry she felt when you were away from her, and maybe most wouldn't think the solution would come in the form of a marriage proposal.

"Well!?" she snapped as she grabbed your hand, ready with the ring. Casting a glare your way, but you were a little too shocked to answer her. Though the ring was beautiful, painted a gold-white color with one jewel that was the same color as Mirko's eyes. Somehow, you stuttered out a reply and Mirko grinned as she pushed the ring onto your finger.

Despite the wedding feeling rushed, Mirko took care of most of the weight. Which included the invitations, wedding location, catering, and so on. She even insisted on paying for your wedding attire, though you were somewhat against the idea. It was hard to argue with your new fiancee.

Though Mirko looked beautiful on the day of your wedding, she neglected the traditional belief that seeing the bride before the wedding could bring bad luck. "Quit your damn worrying!" she snapped as she stood there in her wedding dress. The white fabric showing off her every curve.

But the best feature of her dress was the small cut out that allowed her tail to peek through, "Are ya ready to get this show on the road yet!? People are waitin'!" she exclaimed and you couldn't help but chuckle as you stepped close to her and placed your hand on the small of her back. Your fingers slowly reaching down to play with her tail yet again before you nodded.

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N: no fic-related news but i did get my first dose of the covid vaccine today so that’s exciting! GET VAXXED, PEOPLE! SPENCER WOULD WANT YOU TO!!

Masterlist

Chapter 20

“Hey Hotch,” Spencer knocked on his boss’s door.

Spencer got in extra early today to have his meeting with Hotch and hopefully tie up all the loose ends in his paperwork.

“Reid, come in,” Hotch gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and talking with Y/N and I think my time at the BAU is coming to an end,” Spencer said.

“I see,” Hotch leaned back in his chair, “Well, I think it goes without saying that you would certainly be missed. But, I’m not going to try to convince you to stay because I feel like this is a good decision for you...one I probably should have made myself if we’re being completely honest.”

“You made it work though, Jack loves his superhero dad,” Spencer reassured him, “I just can’t keep missing stuff after already missing six years. It’s too much and I certainly can’t focus on cases when I’m desperately wishing I was somewhere else.”

“How about this? We put you on temporary unpaid leave for a year. Then, you can either choose to come back or quit for good. This will give you plenty of family time and then you’ll see if you’re ever ready to return or not. It’s up to you. Also, if I just put you on leave, it can start as early as tomorrow. Instead of you just quitting and then having to put your two weeks in and be called away on more cases.”

“That sounds great, Hotch. Thank you so much for your understanding. If I don’t come back, it was a pleasure working with you. But I’m sure I will see you around at Rossi’s dinner parties,” Spencer grinned.

Hotch and Spencer hugged before pulling away to see the rest of the team filing into the bullpen.

“I guess I have to tell them,” Spencer sighed, knowing they would be a little disappointed at the sudden news.

“Hey guys, I have an announcement,” Spencer walked out of Hotch’s office.

“You have another secret daughter?” Derek joked.

“Y/N is pregnant?” Penelope guessed.

“You’re engaged?” Emily asked.

“Um no to all, I know this is a bit sudden and I apologize for that but effective tomorrow, I will be taking a year long leave from the BAU which may turn permanent,” Spencer spoke softly.

Silence filled the room.

“It’s not that I don’t love this job or you guys. You all know you are my best friends but I just really need to be home with my family right now,” Spencer explained.

Derek was the first to walk up to Spencer, “We’re gonna miss you around here, kid.”

He pulled Spencer in for a hug, ruffling up his hair.

Penelope was next in line to hug Spencer with a tissue already dabbing at her eyes.

“I hate to see you go, Boy Wonder, but I know it’s what’s best for you,” she said.

“I think Jo may be an even stricter boss than Hotch,” Rossi teased.

“She does have a tendency to get grumpy when she isn’t allowed to have ice cream for dinner,” Spencer laughed lightly, wiping the tears that were forming from his eyes.

“Please don’t ever stop talking. I know we tease you but I truly am going to miss your rambles,” Emily whispered.

“I’m just a phone call away,” he promised.

“You deserve this. Do not feel bad,” JJ reminded him.

He nodded in acknowledgement, his voice getting caught in the lump in his throat.

“We need a cake!” Penelope exclaimed, “I will not have the Good Doctor’s last day be cakeless especially with that sweet tooth of his.”

“On it,” Derek said, grabbing his keys.

“Decorations too! See if Party City has a Happy Retirement section!” she shouted after him.

“You’ve got it, baby girl,” Derek replied.

-

Spencer returned home in the evening with a cardboard box full of his belongings that once resided on his desk. 7 years of his career packed into one box. It seemed sad to him that such a big chapter of his life was closing.

But then, he walked inside. You and Jo had karaoke up on the TV screen. You both were currently in the middle of Wannabe by the Spice Girls. Jo even had her baseball cap on backwards to complete the look.

“If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends. Make it last forever, friendship never ends. If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give. Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is,” Jo sang.

Then you jumped in, “So, here's a story from A to Z. You wanna get with me, you gotta listen carefully. We got Em in the place who likes it in your face. You got G like MC who likes it on a

Easy V doesn't come for free, she's a real lady. And as for me, ha you'll see.”

“Slam your bodies down and wind it all around,” you both sang.

You turned around to see Spencer standing there and you let out a yelp.

“Oh no, please continue. Don’t stop on my account,” he grinned.

“Daddy!” Jo jumped up into his arms.

He moved Jo to his hip as you approached.

“Hi, love,” you greeted him with a kiss.

He was no longer sad. This was the right choice. This is where he belonged.

-

“Shhh” is the first thing you heard as you awoke followed by the quiet rattling of dishes.

“Jo, no!” you heard Spencer whisper-shout, “I said not until Mommy wakes up.”

“I’m up,” you muttered into your pillow.

You turned to the side of your bed to see Jo standing there with a tray of food and Spencer behind her with a bouquet of flowers.

You smiled softly.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” they both cheered.

“Thank you, my loves,” you gave them both kisses, accepting the tray from Jo as Spencer set the flower vase down on your bedside table.

The food on the tray consisted of a mug of coffee, a cup of orange juice, bacon, a bowl of blueberries, and a big chocolate chip pancake with sliced strawberries for the eyes and nose and a whipped cream smile.

“Very artistic,” you grinned.

Spencer returned next to you in bed, getting under the covers. He was wearing a plain gray fitted t-shirt, flannel PJ pants, and his glasses.

“Jo, you can go get your present for Mommy while she eats,” he suggested.

Once Jo left the room to go retrieve her gift, you planted a much messier kiss on Spencer’s lips.

“Not that I’m complaining but what was that for?” he smirked.

“You know how sexy I told you those glasses make you look,” you stated, taking a bite of a strip of bacon.

“I’ll keep them on all day then as part of your gift,” he smiled.

Jo crawled on to the bed with a wrapped box and an envelope taped to it. The card was clearly homemade by Jo and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Look at this beautiful artwork!” you exclaimed, opening the card.

Inside was a gift card for a spa downtown surrounded by Jo’s doodles.

“JJ said that place was really nice. There’s enough on there for you and a friend to get a full day of pampering,” Spencer said.

“Well, that’s good that she likes it because I will probably bring her along as my fellow mom. Thank you both,” you smiled.

Jo pushed the wrapped box towards you. You opened it to find a multi-colored beaded necklace.

“I made it for you, Mommy,” Jo beamed as you put it on over your head.

“That is so very thoughtful of you,” you kissed her forehead, “It fits me perfectly and you even included my favorite color.”

“I planned a picnic for today but if you would rather stay home and relax all day, I totally get it. Jo and I can go to the park and you can have some peace and quiet,” Spencer offered.

“Are you kidding me? It’s called Mother’s Day, I want to spend some time with the little girl who made me the luckiest one in the entire world,” you smiled.

“Picnic, it is then. I’ll get Jo all dressed and the bag packed. Here, let me take that,” Spencer left the room, balancing Jo on one hip and your tray of dirty dishes on the other.

You were really going to have to bring your all for Father’s Day next month.

[diavolosthots]

DARK DECEPTION CHAPTER 14

READ CHAPTER 13 HERE

Warnings: none

Pairing(s): Lucifer x F!Reader, Michael

“Michael.” The name left your lips as if you had known him for forever, but the almost weird look he gave you meant that you did not, in fact, know him forever. He wasn’t mad, per se, but he wasn’t happy either. Maybe that’s just his face, though? God you hoped it was because if not then you feared this was all your fault. Lucifer’s grip on your waist tightened momentarily before he wrapped his coat tighter around you, almost protectively. He didn’t trust Michael and he hated that he needed to ask him for help, but it’s worth it if it meant you’re safe. “Yes, that’s my name. I assume Lucifer told you all about me.” Oh Lord no. You almost wanted to laugh at that assumption. Does he even know Lucifer? The guy would rather keep everything to himself than ever spill anything. Maybe he wasn’t like that as an angel? Was Lucifer that much different back then? You truly wondered. “He… didn’t say a lot, if we’re being completely honest. It’s still nice to meet you though.” Michael still gave you that expressionless face and it almost calmed you. Maybe it truly was just who he is. “Likewise, but sadly I’m not here to talk over tea.” Who would’ve thought. 

Lucifer looked at you and gently pushed you off of him and stood up from his chair, “stay here. Don’t go anywhere. We’ll b--!” “no. She can stay, after all, it concerns her as well.” Oh he didn’t like that at all. The plan was to keep you out of it as much as possible and yet, Michael seemed to completely disregard that. “The Devildom isn’t happy about their Queen being gone.” You wanted to roll your eyes, really. Their Queen? You never even said hi to those people after the wedding. You didn’t even meet most of the people at the wedding! “Well they can get used to it.” Lucifer whipped his head toward you and if this wasn’t such a serious matter, he might have found you cute in his oversized coat right now, pouting, no. Frowning. Even Michael managed to crack a small smile, “I’m afraid it isn’t that simple. Diavolo declared war and although I doubt he knows exactly where she is right now, he’s sure to figure it out. You need to stop him. I’m not putting the celestial realm at risk.” Lucifer knew that much. He knew this would only be a temporary solution but he still hoped to avoid that. Even now, Diavolo did help him a lot after the fall, after everything, and although their friendship never meant as much to himself as it did to Diavolo, Lucifer did choose this route and he didn’t calculate the consequences. Well, he did, but he wasn’t, shamefully admitted, prepared. 

“I know, Michael, and I’m not asking you to. I just need you to keep her safe.” No matter what. He’s trying to be realistic here, he has to be. Seven brothers against an army of Demons and their strongest fighter, their King, is almost laughable. Can you even imagine it? Lucifer has to prepare for the worst possible outcome and sadly, the chances for it far outweigh the good outcome. Michael knows that, too, which is why he made Lucifer an offer earlier, one he never declined or accepted, “You know what I said, Lucifer. It’s all up to you.” All up to him. He’s used to that; he deals with that every day. All his brothers, in one way or another, rely on him. Everyone relies on him. And yet, he doesn’t like that this decision weighs on his shoulders right now. He doesn’t want to think about that scenario, but it’s also so, so hard to be optimistic. “I know. Thank you. I’ll… prepare.” Because that’s all he can do. “We still have your armor, if you want it.” His armor… so many bad memories circle around that thing and although he used to wear it with pride, it will never be like it once was. “Thank you, Michael.” Does it still fit? Still protect him? Will it keep him safe long enough to do what needs to be done?

You watched the two men in front of you, confused and scared. Obviously there’s a lot of history between them, history that you will never understand; could never understand. You didn’t dare speak until Michael left again either, glancing at you before turning on his heel, “Lucifer?” Your voice was soft and it almost hurt his heart. His head turned to look over you, cozy in his coat which didn’t fit the bright room at all; just another reminder that this isn’t where he belongs anymore. “I’m sorry, Darling… I know this is confusing.” Confusing? “Diavolo just declared war and you think that’s confusing me? That’s the clearest part about this! Don’t tell me you’re thinking of fighting after I just got you back!?” His eyes said everything and it was enough to make tears form again in yours, threatening to spill over. His eyes went wide after that and he’s quick to pull you into his arms, pushing your face into his chest. It hurts to see you like that and he knows you’ll be worried. He knows it’ll kill you even if it doesn’t kill him. 

“I have to… I’m not letting you go back there, (Y/N).” “You don’t even have an army!” You wanted to punch him, to scream at him, to pull at his hair until some type of sense entered his brain, but you didn’t. Instead, you pulled away to look at him with anger and sadness and hurt, “I can’t lose you, Lucifer….” “You won’t.” “You don’t know that!” You’re right… he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know anything, and unlike Barbatos, he can’t see the future, which is another part that worries him. “Maybe Michael knows something….” it was mumbling, meant so more for himself. He forced a smile, cupping your face and leaning down to kiss you softly, “I’m going, (Y/N). I have to. My brothers are down there and I’m not sure how long they can last without me… You’ll be safe up here. Michael promised.” He better keep that promise too. That’s the only time Lucifer begged and the only thing Lucifer ever begged for. You shook your head, beating your fists against his chest, but he only leaned in to kiss your head. “I’m getting ready… help me?” 

If you weren’t so caught up in the potential of losing him, you may have paused in shock at his request for help, but you can’t just let him run off! “Lucifer!” He let go of you to walk to his old closet, staring at the double white doors, adorned in gold. For the longest time, he just stared, almost too scared to open them, but he needed to get over himself. Gloved hands reached out for the knob, opening them both. Immediately, he was met with his old clothes. White and gold, like everything else. Pure. Elegant. An image of his past. And then there it was, his armor, pushed to the far end of the closet. It was pure gold and heavy, usually worn over his usual white outfit, but protecting. The chest plate would protect him from any immediate danger, the heavy boots would keep his feet light and energized; perks of celestial magic. Vambraces would keep his arms protected and, of course, there was a sword. He hated that thing, honestly, and he’s almost sure whoever invented this just put it in for decoration, but it might come in handy today. 

Pulling it out almost felt too foreign. He only wore it once; that one time he fought for God and with the angels, but he trained in it often enough to know what it feels like. He stared at it, almost sadly, before taking all the pieces and laying them on his bed, shifting into his demon form. Even now, even up here, he felt more comfortable in this than he ever did as an angel. “Lucifer… stop.” but he didn’t listen. He took off his long coat and anything else that might come in the way, putting the chest plate on first and then attaching the back to it. His wings fit in perfectly still, although the middle holes aren’t being filled anymore and he knew it. He could feel it. He hated it. “Lucifer!” Once again, he ignored you, putting on the boots that would cover him up to his knees. This definitely looked better when he wore white and his black pants are more than weird-feeling with these. Next were the vambraces, which thankfully still allowed him his gloves, and last but not least… “(Y/N). Give me the Sword.” You shook your head, holding the golden weapon tightly and off to the side when Lucifer reached for it. 

“No! You’re not leaving!” “(Y/N).” “This is a suicide mission Lucifer!” He knew that. He knew that all too well. “I can’t let him win, (Y/N).” “W-we… we can figure it out! Don’t go! I’m sure that Michael--!” “(Y/N)!” He raised his voice, stern. He wasn’t mad at you, he knows you’re hurting, but he can’t waste anymore time and it at least got you to stop. He reached for the sword again, taking it out of your grasp and clasping it to his belt. “I’ll be fine.” He may not be but he won’t admit that. Your eyes were wide in shock; he had never yelled at you, no matter how mad he was. “Lucifer….” “It’s okay.” He pulled you back into him, kissing your head again before just resting his cheek against it, “I love you, Darling. I’ll be back before you know it.” You pulled back from him, the tears spilling again as fear rushed through you, “promise… promise me you’ll be back…..” His eyes were expressionless, searching yours before kissing you once more and finally stepping back, heading toward the door with only one thing left to say.

“I promise.” 

[leonardhoee]

Ikevamp OC: Sandro Botticelli

Birthday: March 1, 1445

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Height: 173cm (5’8)

Past Occupation: Artist

Vampiric Type: Lesser Vampire

MBTI Personality: ENFJ- A

Build: Lean, but toned. He says his best feature is his ass. Everyone agrees

Fashion Style: Modern day Sandro would wear light academia or cottage core. He would also wear a maid dress or skirt just because he’s proud of his thighs. In Ikevamp’s time period however, his priority is always comfort. He’s wear leather pants with either a white silk or cotton button up. (Tiddies out ofc because he is shameless) 

Background: Turned in 1510 by Lorenzo de Medici, Botticelli was initially unaware that he had even died and been resurrected as a vampire. As someone who greatly appreciates life, he was angry at first about being brought back without his permission, and immediately left the Medici court. For several decades he traveled the world and realized there was so much undiscovered beauty just waiting to be discovered and immortalized by him. Since then he made it his goal to seek out that beauty wherever he could, and create a painting so extravagant and ethereal that it would put the sun, moon, and stars to shame. 

Personality: He is one of the most outgoing people in the mansion. He is not afraid to speak his mind and often compliments random people he meets in town. He is very genuine, almost to a fault. He always sees the good in others and can be a bit naive at times, only because he choses to believe people at face value. His  authenticity and trust in others, inspire the people he cares about to believe in themselves and become more confident. He also tends to have a flair for the dramatic, basically the embodiment of “I’ll get over it, I just need to be dramatic first”. He can be a bit dreamy and carefree, tossing awareness of his surroundings. (One time he went horseback riding with Leonardo and saw a pretty flower. He spaced out, thinking about how he would paint it in the hands of a beautiful person and ended up getting thrown off his horse when he almost rode into a tree. A true himbo). His carefree attitude however, can leave him a bit detached from people. While he’s very empathetic, he doesn’t know what to do when those emotions are coming from him. Finding beauty is his motivation after being brought back, but what happens when he realizes beauty isn’t the only reason he’s so drawn to you?

In Love: At first, he simply thought he was attracted to you for your beauty. After all, that’s the reason he was drawn to people in the past. He understand’s beauty very well, but he doesn't know what true love feels like from his own perspective. A major conflict for him would be realizing that the reason his heart races after time you smile at him, isn't because he simply finds you worthy of his art. He is hopelessly in love with you. 

“Oh don’t worry, I’m just holding your hand because its pretty haha...”

He can be oblivious at the beginning and won’t understand why you’re jealousy that he’s admiring other people for their beauty. It’s only because he wants them to be art subjects right? 

But once he has come to terms with his feelings, he will be the sweetest lover you can ask for. You are a goddess to him, his one and only muse, and he will make sure you know that he worships every single part of you. (He will definitely ask to paint you nude because “beauty such as yours absolutely must be captured. I only hope I can capture your radiance the way you deserve Amore”)

Hobbies: Painting, Meddling in people’s business, Stargazing

Dislikes: Dishonest and close minded people, Spicy Food

Favorite Food: Crème Brûlée

Hated Food: Banana

Weaknesses: Physical fighting, Math, Situational awareness.

Speciality: Making people smile, Chaos

Extra Things:

-Lorenzo brought him back because he believed it would be a waste for the world to loose such talent so quickly. 

- He arrived at the mansion to surprise Leonardo after hearing he was still alive. It was supposed to be a temporary stay but he fell in love with Paris and asked Comte if he could move in with them.

- Sandro is a great singer and dancer and is often asked by Mozart to sing one of his pieces for him. However he only agrees if he is allowed to draw Mozart after. (He can’t help it, Mozart and Jean are so ethereally beautiful, they just have to be drawn.)

- While he is extremely talented artistically, he doesn't know how to cook, wash dishes, or hail a carriage. Sebastian has officially banned him from the kitchen after he set the cupboards on fire trying to make a cake. (Theo nearly had a stroke after taking a bite and realizing he mixed up the salt and sugar)

- He is already very hyper, and he is not allowed to touch coffee. One time Arthur gave him a cup and he was awake all night trying to turned all the residents into the perfect models. He carried their sleeping bodies to the garden and arranged them to resemble the 12 Olympians. Jean woke up the next morning curled up at Comte’s feet and since then he has banned Botticelli from visiting his room or painting him. 

- Botticelli originally met Leonardo while they were both studying in Verrocchio’s workshop, and he considers Leo to be like an older brother to him. Being the two college-age dumbasses they are, they decided to move in together and start working as waiters in a nearby restaurant. After most of the staff died from the plague, Leonardo came up with the bright idea of rebranding the restaurant, calling it called "Le tre rane di Sandro e Leonardo" (the Three Frogs of Sandro and Leonardo), and serving gourmet cuisine. It ended up being a failure because most of their customers were not used to the innovative new food being served. 

- A threeway with Leonardo is definitely a possibility for you.

- He has a pet peacock named Juno.

- Sometimes he lays down in the garden and watches the clouds imagining different animals based on their shapes.

- Surprising Botticelli is very good friends with Dazai, and his positive outlook on life has helped Dazai appreciate his own existence. None of the other residents understand their conversations but it makes perfect sense between them.

- He cannot handle spicy food. One time Dazai slipped chili powder into his dinner and his face turned red while he teared up. To this day he internally shudders every time he sees the others eating something spicy without flinching.

- He tries to avoid conflicts as much as he can because he tends to get emotional very quickly. Being so empathetic can be draining to him and getting into a fight hurts him more than it will ever hurt the other person.

- He loves making random sketches of you and the other residents, and he will leave them your respective rooms with a small note reminding everyone that they are appreciated.

- His love language is physical touch and he has a habit of kissing everyone on the cheek or forehead.

- Something about Napoleon’s room is so cozy and welcoming that it makes him sleepy. He’s woken up cuddling Napoleon many times. Yes they have kissed each other.

- Though, he doesn’t like taking naps with Leonardo because sleeping on the floor makes all his bones hurt.

- He has a sweet tooth that rivals Theo. Between the two of them, any desserts Sebastian buys, are eating within 2 days.

- Sandro loves shopping with Comte and he constantly asks Leonardo to let him pick out a new wardrobe. He cringes every time he sees those mismatched boots.

- Shakespeare is the only resident that makes him a bit wary. He is very good at figuring out when people are lying and Will’s personality unsettles him.

- Besides Leonardo, Vincent is his favorite resident. Sandro appreciates how kind and welcoming he is, and his favorite pastime is painting with him. If he ever hears people talk bad about Vincent he will not hesitate to give that person a piece of his mind.

- Sandro is a bi king who develops crushes very easily, but most of them are fleeting and superficial. He had a major crush on Leonardo that he quickly got over after they became friends. When they lived together, Leo would often tease him for his habit of falling for people so quickly and moving on within a week.

- Modern Botticelli would be a major Ariana Grande, Harry Styles, and FKA Twigs fan.

- One time he was running to show Dazai a pretty butterfly he found and he was so distracted by it that he didn’t notice the tree branch right in front of him. He ran into it so hard that he knocked himself out for 30 minutes and Napoleon had to carry him back inside the mansion.

Other characters he is similar to: Ranpo Edogawa, Tamaki Suoh, Grell Sutcliff

I’m going to be using Ikevamp Botticelli so you can follow that tag if you want to hear more about him!

[noocturnalchild]

BLIND

One shot for our favorire detective Flip Zimmerman x reader ! 

Warning : Smut , NSFW, Sub!reader 

********************************************

“Hey you”

He threw his keys and cigarette packet on the table and clicked his boots towards you, as you busied yourself in his kitchen. He lifted the pot’s cover and inhaled the scent of the stew you were making. It was really not much. He said nothing, as was his habit, but you could tell from his nostrils flaring and the tiny smile that graced his lips that he was content.

“Hey” you shyly replied.

You liked him coming home to you putting yourself to use. It was the least you could do.

A couple months ago, Flip fished you out from a pretty shitty situation and shittier life you didn’t want to recall anymore. He offered you to stay with him till you figured your life out and you accepted, right away. Mere months that seemed like eons ago, and you were more than grateful for him, for that big sassy grump, cladded in his eternal plaid flannels.

“Bedroom is off limits” he said the first time you set foot in his house, with a serious look and a more serious tone, and you just nodded, apprehensive, but then he compensated, made sure you were more than comfortable in the guest room that became yours,  bought you new curtains, put in the trash the old gloomy pieces and replaced them with light and pretty ones, made sure to fix them himself. You thanked him more than necessary that day, and he just hummed.

Flip was bossy and secretive as fuck, always chain-smoking, everywhere, outside, in his pick-up, inside the house, his living room, the kitchen, his bedroom, everywhere, chewing on the stick of a cigarette and frowning at some documents that he always kept away from your curious glances.

“Go play away, girl” he would say, frowning even more as you pouted, just to smile when you turned your back to him, doing just what he asked, playing away.

You liked to keep his house tidy. He had little furniture, just the functional stuff, but you managed to insert, here and there, glasses full of flowers you picked up on the sidewalks, arranging them in what you thought were pretty bouquets and putting them in his large glasses, displaying them in the kitchen and the living room. He never commented, eyeing the things and walking around, frowning at his documents and cigarettes.

His place was warmer since you got to stay with him, he came to a nice dinner every night and the house smelled better, he noticed it all, but refrained from saying shit about it, ignoring the good changes, afraid of getting used to them just to lose it all in the coming months. He knew you were temporary here, and he hated to think about the day you were going to announce that you’d found a decent job that would allow you to pay rent and live by your own means. He actually dreaded the whole thing, mildly panicking every time he saw you, leaning over some newspaper, circling the job announcements you found interesting, just to breathe out of relief every time you came home disgusted, bitching about how awful the boss was or the dirty places you went to or just something. He would cheer you up halfheartedly and go out smoking.

“Well, there’s always tomorrows y/n”

And you always smiled at that.

As big a man as he was, He still wasn’t comfortable around you, when you slid closer to him, you both on the couch, casually watching the baseball games on Saturday nights. Or when he bumped into you in the bathroom, in your sleep clothes, and tried not to stare too long at your tits, obviously free from any constraints under those thin sleep shirts you liked to wear.

Sometimes he felt sick of himself, thinking of you in ways he shouldn’t, so he just kept keeping his distances, closing himself off, as you kept being good to him, always cheerful and happy around him, like a bee, his little bee.

Often, he came home very late, tired, exhausted. He let himself black out on the couch and when you woke up, late at night, to drink some water or go to the bathroom and you saw him all crumpled on himself on the couch, you made sure to take off his boots and cover him carefully. That, he knew. You also tucked away rebel hair strands off his eyes and watched him snore for a while, and smiled to the rare peaceful face he made when asleep, and of course, this, he would never know.

You knew he worked hard, you knew that he was like he was because of it. All the horror of crimes, all sort of wicked fuckers he dealt with everyday, the interrogatories, the stress, the anger and the nerves of his fucking job, the guns and the hematomas on dead corpses. Photographs, hundreds of them between his folders, hours and days of collecting evidence and sometimes pursuing false tracks, and you would expect him to come home to you with a fucking smile plastered on his face? Of course not, and if you were there, you better make yourself useful and alleviate some of this burden, and not expect a single thank you in return.

*

That night too, Flip came in late, very late, and collapsed on his couch, boots and jacket on. You watched him as he started snoring right away, brows pinched together, even in his sleep. It had been an exceptionally rough day, you concluded, and smiled to him nonetheless. You reached to free him of his leather boots, and he sighed in his slumber, burying his face under his arm. He was obviously uncomfortable, and instead of covering him as was your habit, you decided to push your luck a bit.

“Flip”

You whispered, close to his face, and his eyelids fluttered, selling him out. You smiled.

He ignored you but you were determined.

“Flip?” you shook his shoulder a bit and he grumbled “Come on please, go to sleep, let me take this jacket off you at least, you will be hot and bothered with it on all night” you continued, always whispering as he groaned low, tucking  his face further into his sleeves and you laughed this time.

Emboldened, you grabbed his hand and pushed him up, and it startled him, your bold move; his eyes widened, challenging you to push further.

“Don’t push your luck with me, feather weight!” he threatened you, fully awake now. But you just laughed and you saw him hide an amused smile. It was a game then.

You pushed again, two hands pulling on one big warm paw. His hand was so big, why was it so big?

“Come on Flip, please just this time” you whined, as he closed his eyes again, fully conscious.

“Please” you sang, “ it’s for your own good, you know”.

No reaction.

“I want you to have a good sleep tonight, Flip, come on” you said, softer, and he blinked, slowly opening his eyes, and this time he let you drag him off the couch. He shrugged off his jacket in one swift movement, then, docile, he let you guide him to his bedroom. It was suddenly too quiet, him just looking at you as you walked backward, hand always in his much bigger one.

You knew that his bedroom was sacred territory, but he didn’t say a thing when you didn’t stop at his door and continued to walk backward to his bed. He kept his eyes locked on yours, intense brown pupils daring you to stop, or not to. You decided to act on your instincts and kept going, holding your breath. He finally sat on the edge of his bed, and before you thought of letting go of his hand and stop the dangerous game you were both playing, he threw his big body backward, taking you down with him with little effort, making you both bounce on his mattress.  

You stayed like that for seconds, you on top of him, laid there, not daring breathe or move or speak.

Fast heartbeats and ragged breaths filled the quiet 3 am night. You didn’t move off him, you didn’t scream or run away, no, you didn’t push him away when he slowly put his arms around you, pressed you up a bit, tightly against him so your face was leveled with his. He looked at you with heavy lidded eyes, searching for something in yours, and he found it.

“Didn’t I say, bedroom. is. off. limits?” he shook you a little with each word and something in you ignited, at the deep low rumble he used to talk to you, at the veiled half threat, half promise of it.

“I… I’m sorry” you barely breathed, lips dangerously close to his, and he smirked.

“That’s it. You’re a good girl, you know that?” he whispered, nudging your nose, close, closer, too close.

Your heart wasn’t the only part of you that fluttered at his words, as you felt warmth spreading through your veins, and your body vibrated against his. He smirked again, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet and sleepy kiss. You let him, closed your eyes, then kissed him back, tentative little licks at his lips, he hummed a little and you responded with a moan.

“Hungry?” he asked. You couldn’t but nod, already feeling desire overwhelming you, wanting him to talk to you again in that tone of his, but it was his fingers that started to toy with your shirt instead. Your hands responded, rubbing and pulling on his flannel, and his muscles tensed as your lips caught fire, licking and biting and sucking at his, stopping only to catch your breath.

“Fierce little thing” he panted, reaching for your ass, patting it through the light shorts you were wearing just to pinch it hard, big hands splayed on both cheeks, squeezing hungrily as you moaned against his neck again, breath hot, burning his already excited skin.

“Flip …please”

Your hands reached for his flannel buttons, trembling fingers trying to get rid of the fucking fabric that stood in your way but he yanked your hand off and glared.

“You think you can spoil my rest, come to my room and do as you please, and get away with it like that?”

You hiccupped, frustration and hunger coiling in your stomach, pulsing in your core… This man, his voice, his tone, the look in his eyes, glistening in the dark.

“I’m sorry… please… Flip, let me” you begged, shameless, hips starting to grind against his and he groaned.

“Little bee” he puffed and rolled you on your back, looked at you as his hand reached to both your wrists trapping them up behind your head.

“Lights on, wanna see you” he let go of one hand, let you reach for the night stand, fiddle with the switch of his night-light until you managed to get it right. Dim light spread across the room, making your eyes squint a bit as he took you in, sucking on his lips when his eyes fell on your obvious hard nipples under your see-through night tee.

“See, much better. You look beautiful”

You blushed at the sudden soft tone, at the look of complete awe mixed with hunger he gave you.

“Flip.. I… I wanted this…you for so long”

“I know, doll, ain’t blind”

He dived into you, without restraint, mouth squeezing your perked buds through the thin fabric. He sucked at them, moaned into them, wetted the material, rolled his tongue, using teeth and spit as you arched your back, pushed your tits into his hot mouth, moaned high, hands both trapped in one big fist.

God, he was so hard, hard the minute he took you to bed with him. You were doing this to him, taking him out of his mind, out of his life, out of his shitty work, his shitty problems, and all the ugly things, all at once, making him feel good, so good, out of his mind.

“I thought you were…” you said when he let you catch your breath, and you bit your lip at the nerve of it.

He gave you a confused look.

“Blind” you breathed.

And his eyes turned sad and thoughtful, and he kissed your neck, slow and aching.

“Nah…” he sucked at your pulsing spot.

“I knew” another kiss.

“I know it all” another lick “want it all” a moan.

“with you”

Your body was just one tense chord, pleasure striking you, hot white heat between your thighs.

“I want you to keep doing all the pretty little things you do… those things you do for me , ya know, your little flowers and your pretty smiles, hum?”

He cupped your chin, looking at you tenderly, making you smile again, eyes fogged with happy tears as you nodded .

“Let me take these off then” you whispered, eyeing his clothes. God, he was still fully clothed, you couldn’t take it anymore.

He kissed you again, tongue battling with yours as he freed your hands that went tangling in his silky hair immediately, tousling his dark locks. You hummed in satisfaction but found little relief, so your hands fled to his flannel again, tugging it off, pulling angrily at his undershirt, sending it to the floor, not losing a second as your fingers began to unzip his jeans, freeing him of the heavy fabric before taking him in, heavy short breaths escaping your parted lips. You could swear you were drooling, as you flattened your palm on the hard planes of his abdomen, feeling the tremors and the heat of his belly, before traveling to his crotch, sensing his hot heavy cock as it pulsed with need, and you both closed your eyes for a second, reveling in the moment.

He hissed when you experimentally started to stroke him through his boxers, hazy eyes focused on your task as you sat on your knees. You pressed kisses to his stomach, flickered your tongue on his belly button, licking there, hand always working on his length, caressing his balls ghostly as he tried to control his breath, fisted your hair, played with it in his big strong hands, scratched your scalp gently, seeking your attention.

“Phillip…”

“It’s a risky game you playing down there, little bee, isn’t it?”

It was the first time you used his name like that, and you looked up, just to be met with the silver glint of a thin chain around his neck that caught your eyes. Small pretty six branch silver star decorated it.

You’d never seen him wear it, you’d never noticed it, tucked away under his shirts. It was just normal; you’d never seen him without a shirt before tonight, big shy grump that he was.

You couldn’t resist as you jumped up in his arms, pecking at his chain on his skin, peppering small kisses around it, pulling with your teeth on the silver thing, it took his breath away.

“You want me that much?” he let out a hoarse laugh, his hands were everywhere.

“Yeah… yes… I do” you buried your mouth in his chest, sucking at his nipple. Sloppy and wet.

“You don’t know what you doing to me, drooling over me like that” he panted, and his fingers wandered south, seeking your heat through your night shorts. You were embarrassingly wet, and you gasped and whined when he brushed your clit through the fabric.

“Be good to me, lay on your back”, he commanded and you obliged. You reached for your sticky tee to pull it off but he stopped you, hunched it up just under your breasts, and fisted it with one strong hand.

“No. This stays.”

He slapped one breast, making both joggle. You hiccupped again, arched your back. Round dark stains formed on the fabric around your tits, wet from his spit and your sweat and he seemed so satisfied of his doing.

With one swift movement, he yanked your shorts down with your panties, exposing your wet pussy to his prying eyes.

“Spread those pretty legs baby, let me see”

And you did.

“How do you want me?” You smiled to him, dizzy.

“Like that” he glared, ogling you.

And he splayed two fingers down your wet slit, massaging your entrance, pinching at your sensitive pink folds, rolling your clit, toying with it, making you quiver under his touch, whine and moan and drool on his sheets as your eyes rolled shut from the languid pleasure he was giving you.

His cock was painfully hard now, straining in his briefs, wanting relief. He pulled at your hand, brought it to his erection and guided it, slid it up and down. You teased his head, splaying your middle finger on the wet spot that pre cum formed on his slit, rubbing gentle circles that made him shudder.

“Fuck y/n, pull it off ..off.. fuck”

He was losing it, with the way you took his free cock in your small hand, the way you pumped it gently between your fingers, caressed the swollen veins, teased the head some more, cupped his balls, rolled them softly, moaned at just the sight of it… but god, when you sat back up and kissed it, parted those pretty lips of yours and gave it a loud kiss on the head, god, he felt it twitch, spasm, ready to burst.

“I swear to God y/n…” He barely breathed.

You smiled teasingly at him as you let yourself fall back on his pillows, and rolled your hips to remind him of his stilled fingers in your pussy. He decided to punish you a little and pushed two big fingers right in you, making you cry out. He didn’t let you recover as he started pumping them and curling them inside, in and out, fast, rough, punctuated by his ragged breaths and the slapping of skin as he fucked his cock into his fist, eyes glued to your pussy, to the sight of your hole greedily swallowing his fingers to the knuckles.

You reached for your stiff clit that needed attention, chasing an orgasm that started to creep in the pit of your belly, fire licking at your skin. He let you, spurred you on, praised you, and you moaned for him, moaned like a whore, like you never did in bed, with anyone.

“Go on baby, cum for me, cum for me here …let that tight pussy milk my fingers”

Your vision shattered, white pleasure shaking your limbs in erratic spasms as your hips jerked up and your head rolled back. He stilled his fingers, drenched in your cum, pressed them to your sweet spot, collecting some more before bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean as he watched you coming down from your high.

You were so glad Flip was a natural secluded guy, choosing to live in a quiet sheltered place. You got only tall trees and crickets and squirrels as witnesses of your 3 am hot sex symphony.

“Good?” he asked and you nodded, catching your breath.

“Good. Now, doll, what is that you’re staring at?” he asked, voice deep, deep, as he played with his cock, teasing you.

“Your cock, sir. I’m staring at your cock” you purred.

Damn, you wanted to kill him?

“Let me hear that again” he said in his threatening tone, the one that made your insides melt again, begging for him.

“You cock, SIR.” you punctuated your last word, making his cock jump in his hand, and he squeezed the base, preventing himself from coming there and then as he decided to play with you a little longer, make you wait for it.

“Ahuh? Like what you see?” he tapped the head on your flushed pussy folds, started to gather your wetness, teasing you.

You squirmed “Yes, sir, I do”

“Want to take it?” he reached to one perked nipple, twisted it.

“Mghm.. Yeah” you pushed you hips into his cock, trying to get the tip in you, in vain. “Yeah, please, give it to me, I want your big cock, sir”. You were desperate.

“Want that fat cock?, huh, doll face?”

“Oh yeah, want it, need it, please put it in me” you mewled.

He didn’t need to hear more, grabbed your hips with two big hands, and pushed in. You both groaned from the intensity of it. The heat of it, the intimacy of it. You both reached for one another, wanting to take one another’s hand, knot your fingers together, connect, connect, connect.

“Fuck y/n… has been a while baby, you’re impossibly tight” he panted in your neck. He was impossibly thick and you were impossibly tight and it was heady, the feeling of his body flush against you, hands entwined, legs entangled, his scent invading your head, his facial hair tickling at your collarbone as he babbled, plush lips kissing every patch of skin available, lost in you, just as lost in you as you were lost in him… You whimpered and tried to push him further, deeper into you, angled your hips so your thighs were squeezing his, heels digging in his flesh, and he moved in and out of you, slow torturous motions, driving you both insane.

“Fuck Phillip, faster please…ah-“

He liked how his name sounded on your lips, and hell if he would deny you anything. He backed up a little bit and nudged his nose with yours, pressed his forehead to yours as you trapped your legs around his waist, giving him better access and you nodded.

He then started a faster rhythm, and you could hear your pussy making those obscene noises from it being fucked so good and fast and deep, balls slapping your ass, as his pubic hair scraped your clit, drowning you in pleasure and anticipation. Your nails scratched the back of his neck, your teeth nibbled at his earlobe.

He tracked your mouth and kissed you hard and rough, his silver chain batting at his chest as his hips went wild and your moans high, loud, vulgar. You didn’t care.

“Gonna fuck you so good baby doll, gonna fill you up so good, stretch that tight pussy so good” he breathed in your mouth, and you felt your second orgasm building so fast through your veins. God, you liked his cock, you liked how he moved his hips. He knew exactly what to do with you, he was one talented man, but his voice, it was just on another level, you could cum only from him talking to you like that.

“Please Phillip, just talk to me and I’ll cum”

“Ahuh? Really baby? God you killing me you know? You’re so good to me, look at yourself, taking my cock so nice, huh, Look at your pretty tits bouncing from taking my cock, pussy sucking cum outta that cock, fuck!” he rolled his hips in tight hard circles, and that was it. you spasmed under him, gasped in his mouth and he swallowed your cries in a searing kiss, as your pussy gushed around his cock, milked it, clenched around it.

“Did so good baby, yeah just like that”

He fucked you through your climax, so close now, knew it was coming, so fast and hard as his balls tightened. He pulled your legs up, hooked them on his shoulders, balanced his weight on his knees, and watched as his cock slid in and out your cunt, drenched in your cum and sweat.

He was so beautiful like that, you thought in your haze, face focused, those brows pinched together, again, but for completely different reasons this time. Locks of hair beating on his face, chain beating up his flushed chest, so beautiful as he pounded you, rammed into you, big hands manhandling you, so masculine and strong. Definition of sex.

His hips jerked, cock twitched in your pussy and he pulled out. He wanted you to see his load of cum as it burst out of his slit, jets of thick white ropes painting your belly and tits. His cock twitched and jolted again, leaking some more, until it was all over your body, hot and slick on your gleaming skin.

You splayed your fingers on your body, collected it and spread it some more on your skin, humming and buzzing in pure bliss as you watched your man recover from his high, staring at you, shaking his head in disbelief and amazement.

“Fuck baby that was… So hot” he huffed, incredulous, and you both laughed.

“Come here big man” you opened your arms for him and smiled, all teeth. He threw his big self on you, still laughing as you combed his hair with your fingers, and kissed him soft and sweet behind his ear.

“Can we go grab a bite now?” he asked after he took extra care cleaning you both up. He extended his hand, and you took it, beaming at him.

“You mean breakfast?”

“Don’t tell me…” Flip reached for his alarm clock , whistled long and incredulous when he saw the time. 5:45 am, no fucking way.

The first bird started its song outside, mocking him, and you laughed.

“What should I do with you now? keeping me awake all night huh?” He spanked your ass, playful as he grabbed for his first cigarette of the day and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Won’t be the last night, I tell you” You bit your lip as you took his hand, leading him to his kitchen.

“Ahuh, you smartass” but he smiled, kissed you again, knowing exactly that it wouldn’t.

[super-secret-sick-fics]

hi! i loved your iwaoi fic so much!! if you’re still taking requests, i would love to see more iwaoi!! idc who’s sick but emeto is a yes :) no pressure and thank you! <33

Hi! I hope this is to your liking :)

I can’t promise that I’ll alway respond to requests this quickly or that they’ll always be 1000+ words. I’ve just been in the writing mood recently!!

Usually I hc Oikawa as super super overly-doting as a caretaker, but I think when it comes to Iwa’s migraines, he is so used to them (unfortunately) that he’s just like. “Okay this is what I gotta do.” If that makes sense?

Migraine: an IwaOi sick fic

Pair: sick Iwa, caretaker Oikawa

Word Count: 2,234

Warnings: vomit, swearing, slightly ooc Iwa

——————————————————————

Iwaizumi leaned against the wall of the elevator lethargically. He held the strap of his bag loosely as it leaned against his leg, suddenly too heavy to keep on across his shoulder. Why in the hell he and Oikawa chose to live on the 10th floor was beyond him. He was regretting the decision as each beep of the passing floors sent sharp, stabbing pains through his skull. The prospect of his bed called to him enticingly.

It had been a terrible day.

He woke up late and ran into someone on his way to class, spilling his coffee all over his notes. Then in each one of his classes, he found out that he did the homework for the next class instead of today’s, so when he was called on, he didn’t know any of the answers and each one of his teachers scolded him for not doing the readings.

During his lab, some dude passed out when they were practicing first aid assessment on a dummy who cut open his leg. (Apparently even fake blood was too much for the guy). Which wouldn’t bother Iwa usually, but when the kid fell, he knocked over the iodine and got it all over Iwa’s arm (which was now stained brown).

Then, during his clinicals, he was observing one of the trainers with rehab for a patient who only recently recovered from her shoulder surgery enough to start physical therapy. All he needed to do was watch so he could take notes on different types of treatment plans for shoulders. He was actually pretty relieved after such a rough day.

The universe was out to screw him apparently because the pain was a bit too much for the poor girl and she ended up throwing up down Iwa’s chest.

To top it all off, when he was writing notes for one of the certified trainers a little later, black spots started popping in and out of his vision and his upper arms started tingling. Anxiety immediately settled in his chest. Of course; the only way to end such a terrible day was with a migraine. He had at most thirty minutes from the start of the tingling to get home and take his meds before it became too late.

And of course that didn’t happen.

His notes took longer to finish because of the black spots interrupting his typing and the increasing difficulty he had starting at the blue light of his computer. Then his usual train route was under construction so they took a detour.

Now, here he was, an hour later, standing in the elevator, hating his very existence as the pulsing behind his eyes increased and nausea made his stomach churn.

Finally the doors to his floor opened and he stumbled forward, fighting his vertigo towards his apartment. The hall lights blinded him.

His fingers fumbled with the keys as he leaned against the door and when he finally got the door open, he all but fell inside. He dumped his stuff messily by the door (Oikawa would yell at him later for that) and made a beeline for his bedroom.

Iwaizumi could have cried when he finally got to his room. He didn’t bother with the lights and collapsed onto his bed. His head pounded relentlessly. He curled into a ball and whimpered.

“Iwa-chan? That you?” Oikawa’s bubbly voice from the hall cut through his brain like a knife and he brought his knees even closer.

“Iwa-chan, are you okay?” his voice was closer now. He was most likely standing in the doorway, a hand placed on his cocked hip.

“Migraine,” Iwaizumi moaned. Oikawa was quiet.

“Did you take your meds?” he whispered eventually. Iwaizumi was hella grateful for their life long friendship because Oikawa dealt with this before and knew exactly how to make Iwa more comfortable. Including toning down his usual obnoxious tone.

“Too late,” Iwa responded weakly.

“Tch. That’s not true and you know it,” Oikawa chided softly. Iwaizumi heard him moving around in the room before he felt the bed dip.

“Here. They might not prevent it from happening anymore, but you know as well as I do that it might lessen the symptoms,” he heard Oikawa much closer this time. He groaned in response but sat up.

He clenched in eyes shut to fight off the dizziness before prying them open again to look at Oikawa in front of him. He was holding the water bottle from Iwaizumi’s bedside table and his migraine meds. The look on his face resembled a chastising mother.

“I don’t know if they will,” Iwa said, “the aura started over an hour ago.” He took them anyway.

“You didn’t have anything with you?” He shook his head and winced at the motion.

“What’s on your arm?!” Oikawa screeched and Iwaizumi hissed when it sent sharp pains through his skull.

“Sorry, sorry I’m sorry,” the bastard whispered.

“Just iodine,” Iwa responded and looked down at the brown stains on his arm.

“Oh.”

It was quiet again then and Iwaizumi settled back in bed.

“Wait, do you want to change?” Oikawa asked and stood up. He moved towards the dresser before waiting for a response.

“I want to sleep,” Iwa grumbled, getting increasingly more annoyed. He knew Oikawa was trying to help, but he hasn’t had a migraine this bad in a hot minute and the swirling in his stomach was only getting worse. Throwing up always made it worse, so he wanted to try and avoid that if he could.

“Sit up,” Oikawa said and Iwa would smack him if he had the energy.

“Oikawa, please,” he moaned again. He sat up anyway, his legs dangling off the side of his bed.

Oikawa pulled his shirt gently over his head and replaced it with a soft sweatshirt. It smelled like Oikawa and Iwa felt comforted despite himself. Next his jeans were pulled off almost clinically, as if he would break if Oikawa went too fast or pulled too hard.

Oikawa helped him into a pair of basketball shorts and then finally allowed him to lie down.

Iwaizumi wouldn’t ever say it out loud because it would give Oikawa too big of a head if he knew changing out of his school clothes made him feel just the slightest bit better. His jeans had been adding to the sensory overload.

“We were supposed to meet up with the guys tonight. Want me to cancel?” Oikawa asked, scratching Iwa’s head gently with perfectly manicured nails. It gave him a temporary relief from the pulsing that threatened to crush his head.

“No. You go,” he slurred, falling asleep.

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa hummed and continued running his hand through Iwa’s hair. It didn’t stop the pain, but it diminished it enough that eventually, he fell asleep.

***

Iwaizumi woke up with a strangled breath when pain exploded through his skull and down the back of his neck. He blinked a few times, staring into the dark room trying to clear his blurry vision.

This wasn’t right. No, sleep was supposed to make him feel better, but an intense pain covered his entire head. It felt like someone was squishing his brain in between their hands. Why why why.

Suddenly he was nauseatingly dizzy and he realized he was panting, depriving his already struggling brain of precious oxygen. He pulled his knees to his chest and tried to calm down his breathing.

His body didn’t want to give him a break though because as soon as the world righted itself again, his stomach contents swirled sickeningly in his gut. He tried to ride out the nausea. He didn’t want to throw up. That would make the pounding worse. The more he thought about it, the more his stomach turned and he realized he was fighting a losing battle.

In a vain attempt to stay in bed, he thought to try and call Oikawa into the room only to put together that the roaring sound that was hammering nails into his skull was the shower. So he was on his own. He needed to make it to the bathroom. Needed to make it to Oikawa.

With heavy limbs, he forced himself to sit up and almost lost it. He gagged, slapping a hand over his mouth. It pounded in his skull. He swallowed it down and slowly made his way out of bed.

By the time he made it to the bathroom, he almost lost it three times and the pain in his head was unbearable. His eyes stung with tears and he pounded on the door before throwing it open and tumbling into the room. He collided with Oikawa who squawked loudly, painfully. Iwaizumi ignored him and collapsed in front of the toilet.

As soon as he moved his hand away from his mouth, he heaved once and vomit poured from his mouth. It burned the back of his throat and his chest. The torture stopped just long enough for him to catch his breath before he lurched forward with another gag and threw up again. His chest was on fire and the lights in the bathroom seared into his brain and he really just wanted everything to stop.

The sound of the lights clicking off registered through his haze somehow and he opened his eyes (when he closed them, he wasn’t sure). Then, a gentle hand was on his back.

“Oh, Iwa-chan. It’s a pretty bad one this time, huh?” Oikawa said tenderly from beside him. He turned his head slowly and found himself face to face with his best friend. He was wearing pajamas, so he must have gone to change at some point since Iwa entered the bathroom.

Oikawa smiled sympathetically and something in Iwaizumi cracked. Suddenly, the flood gates were open and he found himself launching himself into Oikawa’s chest. Thin arms wrapped around his back as he sobbed.

“It h-hurts s-so b-bad,” he weeped.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry, I wish it didn’t.” Oikawa buried his face in Iwa’s hair.

“You need to calm down though. It’s only going to make you feel worse.”

As if on cue, Iwaizumi’s stomach lurched again and he tore himself away from Oikawa’s arms to wretch once again.

The nausea and pain made him dizzy. He was having trouble keeping himself upright, but thankfully, Oikawa placed a hand on his forehead to keep him from banging it on the toilet seat.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” Oikawa soothed as Iwa stared into the toilet. His stomach still turned dangerously but he was on the verge of collapse. The tightness in his head only got worse and he really wanted to cut his own head off. He cursed his brain for being messed up and causing him such pain.

He started heaving again, but nothing was coming up and it hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt. Make it stop make it stop make it stop.

“Hajime, breathe,” Oikawa commanded quietly, rubbing between his shoulder blades. It did nothing though. His stomach kept rolling and turning thanks to his stupid stupid head.

Finally, the back of his throat gurgled and a wet hiccup brought up bile and the rest of his lunch. He coughed and sputtered into the toilet and gasped for breath. Maybe it was over.

A minute or two after the episode ended, Oikawa spoke again.

“Ya think you’re done?” He spoke so softly and so tenderly it made Iwa’s heart soft. He nodded.

Oikawa helped him lean back against the wall and a second later, handed him some water and his toothbrush. He lazily rinsed his mouth and brushed the nastiness away before spitting in the toilet. Oikawa flushed it and turned to help him up.

Once he was standing, the pain magnified tenfold and his knees buckled.

“I think I’m gonna pass out,” he mumbled and Oikawa caught him before he could fall.

“Hey, no. Not allowed,” he said and ran a wet wash rag over Iwa’s face (where did he get that?)

“Okay,” Iwa slurred, “not this time.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa chuckled. Together, they made it back to Iwa’s bedroom. Oikawa helped him under his covers and kissed his forehead.

“My poor Iwa-chan,” he sighed and scratched at Iwa’s head again.

“Stay here?” he asked pathetically. Oikawa blinked at him.

“Of course. I’ve already called the guys and told them we weren’t coming,” he said. He walked around the side of the bed and sat against the headboard, nestled beside Iwaizumi. Iwa turned and buried himself in the setter’s stomach and immediately, Oikawa’s hand was running through his hair. He sighed contentedly. This was by far one of his favorite positions.

“Go to sleep, Iwa-chan. Hopefully your migraine will be gone in the morning.”

These migraines really knocked him out. They stripped him of his usual personality and left him a sniveling, pathetic, clingy, mess. But he was a mess Oikawa was familiar with and Iwaizumi was eternally grateful for that. Oikawa knew what he meant when he couldn’t use as many words as he’d like. He knew how to make him comfortable, what foods he could tolerate and how to comfort him. There was no one else that Iwaizumi would ever want around when he got migraines. Hell, there was no one else Iwaizumi wanted around at all. As long as Oikawa was there, he’d be fine.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Thin Line

Summary: You’re wild and free. She’s strict and trained. You and Natasha are polar opposites and it drives her crazy. Each move you make annoys her to no end. But, there’s a thin line between annoyance and adoration.

Rating: 18+ Violence, Mentions of Death, and Smut

Chapter 2

The next week passes uneventfully, minus you being on edge. You hadn’t forgotten the red head’s words. Being benched is not at all what you wanted. 

If anything you wanted to impress the infamous Black Widow. The team loves working with you and you enjoyed your time with them. When you got assigned to work with Romanoff you just knew you’d win her over, resulting in the whole team liking you. That didn’t happen however. 

Instead you pissed her off doing the one thing you’re good at: kicking ass.

Now though, you try distracting yourself by training. Each time your fist connected with the punching bag or your muscles tightened you felt the tension roll of your shoulders. 

But that lasted all of an hour, the ringing of your phone pulls you from your distraction.

“Y/L/N.” You answer breathless. 

“Agent Y/L/N Director Fury is requesting to see you.”

Knowing better than to protest, despite your nerves, you agree and immediately get ready.

With the help of one of Tony’s fancy Audi′s you make it to Fury’s meet up spot in no time. 

The mysterious man leans against the only table in the empty warehouse, leveling you with a stoic expression.

“Well if it isn’t the big boss man.” You smile and approach him.“ To what do I owe the nondescript meet up.”

He crosses his arms,“ you made quite the impression with Miss Romanoff.”

You have to reign in your expression, not wanting to appear afraid to the man in front of you.

“Well they say first impressions are everything.” 

His expression doesn’t change.

“She’s not happy with you and when she’s not happy the team notices which effects team morale.” He speaks again before he can reply.“ Which means you need to fix things, now.”

“Yeah, and how am I supposed to do that? Miss Stone Cold Assassin doesn’t exactly want to befriend me.”

Nick’s eye narrows,“ try toning it down Agent.”

Sending a shocked gaze to Nick, you reply,“ toning it down isn’t my thing. I get the job done more than satisfactorily and I have fun while doing it. How about I just keep my distance from Romanoff and you only assign me to work with the boys. They get me.”

“Oh the boys get you do they?” His tone is completely sarcastic and his expression alone tells you he’s done discussing.“ That’s cute, except I don’t care.You and Natasha have just been assigned.”

Your eyebrows raise,“ come on Fury,” you groan,“ give me a break. You saw how unhappy she was with our first mission and I’m almost positive you know she ripped me a new one when we got back to the compound. Just,” you sigh,“ I don’t know, assign Clint instead.”

“It sounds a lot like you’re trying to give me an order.”

You stiffen instantly. No, you aren’t scared of Nick Fury, but you do respect him. What you just did, wasn’t all that respectful. 

“Alright, I’ll work with Romanoff.” He raises a brow.“ And I’ll tone it down.”

With a quick smirk, he nods, hands you the mission file, and sends you on your way. 

You know Natasha knows because the second you enter the compound she’s waiting for you. 

She leans against the back of the couch clad in a tank top and the yoga pants, a sheen of sweat sitting on her skin. Most definitely just came from training.

You can’t help but take in her figure, eyes lingering on her exposed midriff and down the curve of her hips.

For those few seconds you can’t possibly deny how stunning she is. Obviously, right? It’s Natasha Romanoff. The one woman who could pull off look, as far as you were concerned. 

By the time you refocus, it’s too late.

“Typical that you’re not listening.” She scoffs, eyes rolling and arms crossing.

It’s the hardest thing ever to not be distracted again as her arms push her breast up.

“Sorry I was distracted.” You frown.

Her eyes narrow,“ and what exactly has you so distracted?”

Right, cause you’re just going to admit that her body is what distracted you. She hates you already, pretty sure that wouldn’t play well.

“Nothing.” You run a hand through your hair.“ What were you saying?”

She’s silent for a moment, eyes searching yours. Painted in those green eyes is irritation, toward you obviously. But there’s the faintest hint of curiosity in them. She wants to know what distracted you, just as much as she wants to hit you for ignoring her.

“Wheels up in twenty.” She finally says, turning and leaving.  

After you’ve finished packing you head out your room to the waiting Quinjet. 

Natasha isn’t there yet, so you take a moment to read over the mission file. 

The more you read the more anxious you get. 

While there is no exact time stamp on the file, it’s clear this is going to be more than an over night type of mission. If previous missions like this told you anything, you know you’re going to be staying with Natasha for a stint of time.

Just as your thoughts start to linger on the idea of being with Natasha closely overnight, she comes up the ramp of the Quinjet. 

For some reason you expect her to be in uniform but she’s opted out of wearing the black Kevlar, instead choosing a pair of black joggers and a matching hoodie.

A quippy remark instantly readies itself in your head, but you refrain from saying it. Deciding to just read as much of the mission file as possible. 

The entire flight is silent. 

You never thought silence could be overbearing but it is. It looms over you and makes you feel uneasy. 

It was never like this with the guys, you would chat with them about almost anything on the flights. Hell, when you were with Tony or Clint it’s safe to say you had a jam session, music blasting through the Quinjet as you guys prepared for the mission. 

This though, this was awkward. It’s like Natasha didn’t even want to look at you. 

She placed herself at the pilot’s seat long before take off and hadn’t moved, even after she turned on autopilot. 

It’s like a breath of fresh air when the jet lands in a clearing. The second the doors open you’re stepping out. 

The clearing provides the perfect coverage for the jet and a quick glance around clarifies that you two will be walking a bit before you get to the safe house.

On the walk over, you don’t allow an awkward silence to settle.

“So, uh,” you pause,“ I wanted to uh, apologize-”

“Save it.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” You chuckle in disbelief. 

“You’re only apologizing because Fury told you to. You’re not actually sorry for your actions which means that apology is useless.”

Just like that, despite your efforts, awkward silence ensues. 

It even carries into the safe house, which is just a covertly placed cabin in the woods.

A really nice cabin at that. Under extremely different circumstances you’d have called it romantic. 

You and Natasha go to your temporary bedrooms and you reemerge before she does. 

With the late hour you decide to make dinner. Courtesy of Tony Stark, the kitchen is fully stocked and you use the expanse of ingredients to make the one dish you perfected: spaghetti. 

The scent alone intrigues the Russian red head and brings her out of hiding. Despite the stoic expression on her face, you see the intrigue in her eyes the closer she gets. 

You notice in this moment that she’s not all that great at hiding her emotions. Or at least she hasn’t been with you. Or you’re just good at seeing behind the mask she puts up with everyone.

Making two plates of the pasta, you slide one to the spot Natasha is standing at and then set a glass of water next to it.

She eyes the plate and then looks at you.

“What?” You raise an eyebrow, then decide to jokingly ask,“ water not fancy enough? Would you prefer a Sparkling Water or a glass of wine instead?”

Green eyes narrow at you,“ do you have wine?” Her sultry tone accompanies a raised brow. 

You stumble over a response, as you don’t know. But you go in search of wine, and find it. But what else did you expect from one Tony Stark then to have wine at a mission safe house. 

“Surprise surprise. Apparently Tony knows what you like.” You comment, grabbing a wine glass and setting it beside the water.

Moving slowly, as if she were debating whether to stay or not, Natasha sits. Her gaze follows your every move.

Each second she watches you, you feel more and more flustered. 

Part of you wonders if her eyes are watching dangerously, sizing you up in case she has to ‘otherwise incapacitate you’. The other part of you wonders if her eyes watch you as your eyes had watched her earlier, taking in your appearance and loving every bit of it. 

You can admit that both parts in whole feel like prey. 

Shaking it off, you pour her wine and then grab your own plate. 

Much like every other moment with her today, it’s silent. Words aren’t spoken and apart from forks clashing on plates there’s no sound.

That’s a stark contrast to how the next morning goes. 

The mission required recon. Simple recon. Check out the enemies base, size up the threat, figure out the best possible point of entry. All things were supposed to be covert.

Supposed to be.

Honestly, neither you or Natasha are sure what happened. One second you were hidden on a nearby hill, out of sight, out of mind. The next you were fighting through a barrage of enemies.

The outside of the base was littered with bodies. Unsurprisingly it got easier with each take down.

“So, our covers blown, what’d you say we finish this up now.” You jab a fist straight into the throat of the nearest bad guy.“ Get in, get the data, get out. I think we could handle that.”

For a brief second you make eyes with Natasha across the field and quirk in eyebrow in question.

You hear her sigh, followed by the grunt of the guy she took down,“ fine. But we go in the way we planned.”

“I hope you don’t mean covertly cause losing these guys is going to be a pain in the ass.”

“Get your ass to the roof Y/L/N.”

After handling the nearest guys, you and Natasha make quick work of getting to the roof and into the facility. That’s where things took a turn for the worst.

At first it was easy enough, you got in, got the information, but there were more bad guys than you expected. 

It worried you instantly and for the first time in your career you doubted your decision. No because you aren’t skilled enough, not because this is new to you. You doubt yourself because you’re not alone. 

This time around there’s someone else to worry about. Someone who, despite not having known her long, you care about.

“Hey Nat you-” you’re cut off when a bullet whiz pass you, leaving a very noticeable gash across your forehead.“ Ass.” You grunt and shoot him, twice for good measure. 

“Now’s not the time Y/L/N.”

“No, I was gonna say, maybe we should-” Once again you’re cut off, but this time it’s because of Natasha.

Her grunt of pain followed by quick breaths in.

Your eyes survey the area and you don’t find Natasha. You do see the influx of bad guys headed in a particular direction. 

Moving as quickly as possible, you get to her, eliminating the immediate threat as quickly as possible. 

You see the blood before you see the wound, yet and still, your heart drops when you take in the bullet wound.

“Shit, hang on Nat.” The nickname slips from your mouth with ease, so much ease that you don’t pay any mind to it.

A couple more bad guys later and your kneeling beside the bleeding red head, applying pressure to her injury. 

Those green eyes start to droop and you curse.

“Natasha, hey, keep your eyes open alright.” Your voice is starting to sound panicky. 

Blood leaves her wound rapidly and it makes your heart pound in your chest. You nearly rip your jacket off, removing your shirt, and wrapping it around Natasha’s torso. Once it’s tied tight enough you put your jacket back on and turn to handle the last of the threat.

There’s only a few enemies left, which you can handle, but you’d much rather be tending to Natasha. 

You run out of bullets just as the last guy comes charging at you. He’s much bigger than the other guys. 

“Oh fuck off.” You groan and charge him. 

Jumping up, you kick your feet straight into his chest and he stumbles and falls back. You take that quick second to throw a knife between his eyes. 

Chest heaving with uneven breaths you hasten over to Natasha. Her eye’s flutter as she struggles to keep them open. 

“Alright pretty girl, let’s get you outta here.” You mumble and scoop Natasha into your arms. 

You instantly feel her blood against your skin, already having soaked through your shirt. It makes you move faster, the worry doing wonders to your adrenaline.

By the time you make it back to the safe house Natasha is completely unconscious and the second you lay her down you search for a pulse. Luckily you find one. It’s weaker than it should be, but you know she won’t die. 

You make quick work of cleaning, sterilizing, and dressing her wound.Then moving her into her bed and pulling a shirt over her body. 

The adrenaline wears off the second you step out her room. Your shoulders sag and you can’t help but stare at the blood on the floor. Natasha’s blood. 

It’s in that moment that you understand completely why Natasha is so pissed at you. Your actions are stupid and reckless. 

What you did today got her hurt. 

As you clean the mess of her injuries you instill in yourself at that moment to never ever be the cause of her hurt. Because you hated seeing her like that. She looked so fragile, paler than usual due to blood loss, and broken. 

Your thoughts finally quiet as sleep creeps up on you. Worry still plaguing you, you slip back into Natasha’s room and slide on to the floor beside her bed.

“You better wake up Romanoff.” You mumble before allowing yourself to sleep.

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

Walking Space Heater

Word Count: 2700+ (oneshot) 

[AO3]

Genre: Fluff/Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Cinder Fall, Neopolitan, Emerald Sustrai, Mercury Black

Pairing: Cinder Fall/Neopolitan

Summary: Written (late) for Day 4 of @spice-cream-week 2021, “There Was Only One Bed.”

With the heat of both her Semblance and the Maiden powers, Cinder's body is much warmer than the average person's. So long as she's still by her side, Neo intends to take full advantage of that.

~0~

This is definitely a step down from the Haven dorms. Neo’s thumbs moved lightning-fast over the keyboard of her Scroll. Don’t they have ANY concept of personal space here? 

She could say something about Roman’s excessive use of emojis. But looking at his messages, she could hear his laughter clearly in her head, and she had no problem with that.

wtm? you got stuck with a shitty roommate? I’ll come and get her for you idgaf

That elicited the breathy noises that were the closest Neo got to laughter. Truthfully, she probably wouldn’t have minded sharing a room much in and of itself. It might even have been fun to mess with Emerald and Mercury in their own space. 

But no, she’d ended up with the only one that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Cinder Fall was calm, collected, and incredibly competent. Neo didn’t necessarily dislike her. She thought that they got along fairly well, in fact. But that didn’t mean that she trusted her.

Roman was content to stay in the dark about what exactly her ultimate design was beyond Beacon’s destruction, having already accepted the fact that they would be overwhelmed by it. It still gnawed at Neo, though. Thus far her only clues had been the couple private calls that Cinder had taken, and the way Haven’s headmaster cringed like a kicked puppy whenever he caught sight of her. 

Sure, the man was jumpy enough in general, but Cinder — or, more accurately, whatever force had moved Cinder to the Academies — made him cower. Even Neo’s most devilish smile couldn’t do that.

She’s...not bad. She definitely likes me more than she likes you.

Now, did that really require five laughing emojis after I can live with that lol?

And

Neo’s thumb hovered over the screen. For the first time in several minutes, she glanced up from where she was curled up tightly on the covers of her bed. 

Cinder was perfectly at ease on her own bed, leaning back against a stack of pillows with her Scroll open in front of her face. Still rifling through the records of all the Academy students, no doubt. Casting her great and bloody show, for which every little thing had to be perfect. It wasn’t enough that she was sending Emerald and Mercury out to run recon and collect as many relevant details about their players as possible. No, she had to study up herself for hours on end.

Neo was willing to play her own part, but it all seemed very boring to her. Certainly her interim leader could use a break. She returned her attention for one moment more to her Scroll:

I think she would be fun to play with.

Ignoring the several question marks sent in reply, Neo pocketed her Scroll and slipped off her bed. Moving soundlessly was one of the first skills she had ever had to master, and she still considered it her most important. 

Cinder was still too engrossed in her research to notice as she crept across the carpet and climbed onto the other bed. Or maybe she just didn’t care enough to acknowledge her. She certainly didn’t look surprised when Neo’s head poked through the hole between her arms and her Scroll.

“Oh,” she said, smirking, in a tone that she might use with a stray cat that had come up to her in the street. “Hello there. Looking for some entertainment?”

Neo gave her her best strawberry-ice-cream smile, and scooted closer. From the meager rations of physical contact she meted out to Emerald, she wasn’t sure how much Cinder liked being touched, so she proceeded with care, little by little. It seemed to be acceptable: she stayed very still, but allowed Neo to settle down on her chest, resting her head against her shoulder.

“Or are you just lonely?”

Neo hummed thoughtfully, letting herself relax: not all the way, but just enough. This was nicer than she had expected, she had to admit. Cinder was dressed like she had been in the first round of the Vytal Festival: sleeveless jacket, long pants, and sarashi. Neo’s cheek rested mostly on bare skin, and though of course she had seen Cinder’s Semblance before (as well as the flames that didn’t quite seem to fit with it), it was much warmer than she had thought it would feel. Softer, too, with the scents of wood smoke and spicy perfume clinging to it.

“Well?”

Neo rolled lazily over onto her back, looking up at Cinder’s Scroll to see what she had been so busy scrutinizing. Hm. Several pictures of that Mistrali girl from the cereal commercials, accompanied by a passage about her Semblance which had been highlighted in a few places. There was one more tab open with an acronym on it, but that was it. 

Nothing that could tell Neo anything about their situation that she hadn’t already guessed at. And what was more, absolutely nothing that could be more interesting to her temporary partner than her.

Clearly, Cinder could use a lesson on how to properly spend an evening. Dastardly planning, which seemed to be her only form of recreation, just wasn’t going to cut it. 

So Neo helpfully reached up, laid her hands over Cinder’s, and pushed the Scroll shut for her. She put her pointer finger to the outside of her nose; her new teammates might not be picking up Valerian Sign Language particularly well, but she hoped the long, exaggerated twist away from her face coupled with a dramatic sigh got the message across equally well: Cinder, I am bored to tears.

Cinder tilted her head, puzzled but smiling. She slipped her Scroll into her pocket and wrapped an arm around Neo’s waist. 

“Well, in that case, I’d be happy to give you some attention.”

Neo made as pleased a sound as she could muster up, and snuggled up to Cinder, as close as she could get. It might have been dark and cool outside, but she felt as if she were napping on a sunbeam. Rolling over to lay her head on Cinder’s chest, she could imagine that there was a powerfully burning fire inside it in place of a beating heart, whose heat was palpable, just beneath the skin. 

She tried to look more sweetly smug than actually impressed, but gods, she had never felt anything like this. 

Cinder held her tightly in both arms now, fingertips scratching lightly between her shoulder blades, and Neo nearly purred. Years of pulling back bowstrings had turned those arms wiry and oh so strong. All at once, she completely understood why Emerald was always trying to earn one of these rare hugs.

And speaking of which...

Neo wasn’t sure how long she spent in the lap of luxury, only that she felt like she might actually fall asleep in it, as toasty warm as it was. Cinder had switched from rubbing her back to stroking and playing with her hair, which, in her experience with other people, was a welcome first. But she was jolted back to full awareness when their dorm room door slammed angrily open.

Blinking, Neo lifted her head. She caught the lingering scents of jungle juice and sweat incoming, before she saw Emerald stalking inside, barely hanging onto her last scrap of patience. Mercury stumbled in after her, wearing a huge grin and mirrored shades that Neo was fairly certain did not belong to him.

Cinder smirked. “I was wondering when you two would be back. How did it go?”

Emerald forced a halfway convincing smile for her leader. “It was...interesting. Though not quite as informative as I was h—”

The smile froze on her face when she turned to look directly at Cinder, and saw Neo lounging in her lap like a spoiled cat. 

Neo smirked, and signed, Party fun? With the reputation Vytal Festival house parties had, hopefully Emerald had gotten some attention as well.

“Oh, it was great!” Mercury shrugged off his jacket and pitched it into his and Emerald’s room, littering their carpet with brownie crumbs. “We saw a lot of everybody, didn’t we, Emmy?”

While Emerald tried to take a cue from Cinder and set him on fire with her eyes, Cinder herself just closed her Scroll with a soft laugh. 

“Well, you can tell us all about it in the morning. We should all get some rest now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You got it, boss...”

Neo watched them slink into their room, where muffled bickering started up as soon as the door closed, but did not move until she felt a gentle pat on her thigh. 

“You too, dear. Go on.”

Though she made a show of huffing about it, Neo got up off Cinder’s bed and went back across the room. 

Her own bed felt cold and uninviting now. Catching up on the several missed texts from Roman (including but not limited to what do you mean by that lmao, hey Neo dont leave me out of the loop :), Neo tf are you doing to her O_o, NEO) did make her smile, but as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help but wish that she didn’t have to return to being alone just yet.

~0~

This was not at all the solution to that problem that she had envisioned, but Neo knew very well how to deal with whatever life threw at her.

She had never been to Atlas, and while she had to roll her eyes at its decadence, she couldn’t say she hated the place. Cinder, on the other hand, never answered outright when Neo tried to ask if she had ever been here before, but every bitter hiss from her about Atlas elites that had not been asked for gave her a general idea. It had taken them a while to find a vacant apartment to squat in, especially considering that there was an entire chunk of the city that Cinder refused to even go near. 

But now here they were, and it was empty around them and quiet outside. The blackout curtains shielded them from the city lights. In pitch darkness the two of them were curled up together in the place’s one bed.

Cinder had initially balked at the idea of sharing it, insisting that Neo take an extra blanket and find somewhere else to curl up. So barky with her orders these days, and so on edge, too. Neo was beginning to wonder how she had ever thought of this woman as calm and collected.

In any case, she didn’t see what her once-again partner’s problem was. She had invited Neo into her bed with her before, hadn’t she? Maybe not to sleep, but still. And she was far from squeamish; she wouldn’t make a fuss about the scarring and empty eye socket on full display. As such, she ignored the demand, and simply undressed, got under the covers, and gestured for Cinder to join her. 

After some indignant spluttering, Cinder threw up her hands and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t come out until Neo had turned the lights off and laid there long enough that she might reasonably have fallen asleep. Even then, she slipped in quietly, gingerly, and stuck close to the edge of the bed. 

Now, that just would not do. Atlas was much too cold for that kind of nonsense. 

Neo rolled over under the blankets, feeling just as bold as last time, but exercising even more care, Cinder being so volatile lately. She went out of her way to be heard, so it wouldn’t startle Cinder to be touched. She knew her bedmate was awake: though she lay very still, her breathing was nowhere near relaxed enough for her to be asleep. 

Cinder didn’t jump when she felt Neo wrap her arms around her waist, but she did go still as a statue.

“Neo,” she growled, low in her throat, “what are you doing? I’m not in the mood for—”

Neo nuzzled her bare shoulder in a way she hoped was reassuring, as she pressed up against her back. Fortunately for her, Cinder’s new arm was tightly bandaged up for the night, so she didn’t have to risk touching the awful thing. Only human skin, just as fiery warm as before. Even the wood smoke smell remained. 

As had happened so often since the Fall of Beacon, Neo caught herself writing a text to Roman in her head, wryly telling him that he was right, she shouldn’t have thought so hard about where Cinder’s flames came from, because she would never in a million years have hit on the right answer.

She gave her head a shake, and resisted the urge to glance back at the bowler hat perched neatly on a bedpost. If she started thinking too hard about that, she would never get to sleep either. There would be time, when the sun came up, to consider some more whether the woman in her arms was the key to her revenge, or its target all along. 

Right now, the darkness was peaceful and the blankets thick and soft around them, and the heat of their bodies grew more soporific every moment. Comfort was a rarity in both of their lives. They ought to savor it whenever it came their way. 

Cinder let out a long, exasperated huff, clearly not sharing the opinion. 

“Couldn’t you just hug a pillow?” she grumbled. But there was no bite in her voice. 

Neo smiled against her skin, entwining her legs with Cinder’s. Now, she would have said, were her hands not occupied, where would be the fun in that?

“...Fine. Just don’t think you’re going to make this a regular thing.”

Oh, she absolutely was, so long as they were staying in the coldest part of the world and she was in the company of a walking space heater. 

As such, Neo ignored the question and snuggled closer. She was trying her best to communicate “calm down and go to sleep” through body language alone, so to feel Cinder slowly but surely relaxing in her arms, eventually going limp, was deeply gratifying. Almost fascinating.

From nights spent in the Beacon dorm room and Mistrali inns, Neo already knew that Cinder talked in her sleep. Most of what she said was sluggish and toneless as well as nonsensical, but sometimes it was a series of fierce snaps or pained moans. It came as no surprise to Neo that when, just as she was starting to doze off herself, she was woken back up by her partner’s twitching and yelping. 

“No...don’t take...I’m...!”

Neo sighed drowsily, and tightened her embrace, humming as soothingly as she could. Her inability to speak never really bothered her, but there were times like this when it didn’t exactly help her, either. At least she could keep Cinder from thrashing around and hurting one of them: if that arm decided to act up while its host was in distress, she had zero faith in the bandages to hold those claws back.

It’s okay, she thought, hoping that somehow it would get across, just relax, you’re all right...

Nightmares never lasted forever. Neo had woken with her stomach still in free fall from enough dreams of plummeting wildly through a Grimm-infested sky to know that. Still, she hoped that her attempts at calming had helped this one pass quickly. Cinder’s mumbling devolved into moans, then to frantic whimpers, then finally to something close to the restful breathing that Neo had almost fallen asleep to before.

Neo took a deep breath of her own. She was too tired to smile, but leaned in to press a kiss to the back of Cinder’s neck, the ends of her short hair tickling her nose. To her surprise, she felt a burn scar here, too: thin and faded, but winding around her neck like garrote wire. Somehow she didn't think that Ruby had done this. But she certainly wasn't going to ask who had. They weren't going to discuss any part of this in the morning.

So she kissed her neck once more, soft and just a bit more sincere, before closing her eyes again.

Good night.

[pedropascalonline]

Love is fire

Maxwell Lord x Reader 

Summary: Y/N is saving up to attend the university of her dreams,she is shocked to find out that her father got her a job as Maxwell Lord’s assistant. Y/N can’t stand him but soon enough they become infatuated with each other.

Warnings: Swearing. 

A/N : Hello everyone. I’m an absolute simp for Max Lord. I hope y'all like this and want me to continue. Feedback is appreciated and remember to let me know if you want to be tagged.

“I’m sorry Wyndham but there’s nothing to do, I just don’t have an opening at the moment.”

“That’s okay, Mr.Lord I was just hoping that maybe there would be a place here for my y/n I have worked here for years and I was kind of envisioning the same thing for her.”

Wyndham had been Maxwell's personal driver since he was 40 and Maxwell only 20, now that he was 65 the time came for him to go home indefinitely at the end of his shift today.

“Mr.Lord, I have them on the phone for you.” said his redhead assistant Anna. Who was visibly uncomfortable in her high heels.

“Are you alright Anna?” asked Wyndham noticing her uncomfortable walk.

“Oh yes thank you, I just can’t wait for this one to finally come out, he’s making my feet swell like crazy,” said Anna as she looked down at her swollen belly.

Max rolled his eyes at interaction.

“Right Wyndham I need to take this call I’ve been waiting for it all week, I’ll see you later then. Remember it’s straight home tonight.”

“Of course Mr.Lord.”

Wyndham and Anna took their leave and left Max to do his job, which seemed like lately, it was only screaming at people.

X

You sighed as you wiped down the sticky counter top, you couldn’t believe that it was the fifth time a child had knocked over their drink on your shift. Every time you reminded yourself to never have children.

“Y/N when you’re done there can you please come to help me in the back ?”

“Yes, Charlie I’ll be there in a minute,” you answered.

Charlie was your boss but also your best friend. He’s the one that got you your waitressing job after you finished high school together.

His family owned the cafe where you worked. Your family didn’t have enough money to send you to the university of your dreams so you decided you’d make the money yourself. It was proving to be more difficult than you initially thought.

“What’s up?” you asked Charlie.

“Are we going out tonight or what? This week has been exhausting and I need a distraction.”

“You can say that again but unfortunately not tonight, it’s my dads last night of work and I want to be there when he gets home.” You said smiling sadly.

Charlie sensed your change in mood and hugged you.

“Hey, cheer up. It’s the 80’s anything can happen, just don’t give up yet.”

“My parents are old, and now my dad won’t be bringing back money anymore, my mum is getting tired of looking after kids all day and now I’ll have to start helping with bills. I don’t mind doing it but this just isn’t how I saw my plan going yah know?” tears were spilling down your face at this point and Charlie pulled you in tighter.

“Listen, you’ve got this. If there is anybody that can do this, it’s you. I’ve never seen you fail at anything and I won’t have you start now.”

“I love you so much,” you said as you held him closer.

“I love you too babe.”

X

“You ready Mr.Lord?” Asked the elderly man.

“Always,” replied Max as he got into the back seat of his limousine.

Wyndham got into the car and adjusted his mirrors for the last time. He put on his driving hat. His eyes meeting Max’s in the rearview mirror.

“Going home, Mr Lord”

Maxwell only nodded as the car took off. He’s heard those words for over 25 years and now it’s suddenly stopping. His new driver will be picking him up on Monday morning and he sighed at the thought of having to get to know someone all over again.

The city was alive with teenagers partying, adults dancing and kid’s at the movies. Sometimes he wondered...

X

The view of The Lord mansion came into view as the large iron gates opened. The doubted rooted in the middle of the drive-in looking especially beautiful with the recently added lights. The head housemaids idea. Agatha practically raised Max since his parents were always away for business.

Wyndham and Agatha were about the only people Max could stand. Well, and of course the exception of his assistant Anna and maybe just maybe his Gardner but he never really saw him all that much but he reminded him of one of the friends he has as a child. Heck, he didn’t even know his name. Alec maybe? Or Rodney?

Wyndham opened the door for Maxwell and swiftly closed it behind him again.

“Well Sir, it was a privilege working for you. I’ll never forget how good you were to me.” The old man’s eyes turned glasses as he took off his hat, handing it over to Max.

“Keep it please, it won’t be same in somebody else. Are you sure I can’t give you any kind of compensation?”

“No Sir please we’ve been over this, I’ve managed to put away a sum of money each month, I couldn’t take any more.”

“This doesn’t feel right Wyndham, is there anything I can do? Anything at all.”

“Well, perhaps there is one thing...”

X

“YOU GOT ME A JOB AS MAX LORD’S ASSISTANT?” you were fuming.

“Oh come on Y/N this could be your big break,” said your dad trying to cheer you up.

“My big break? Dad, I’m not working for that prick.”

“Hey you watch your mouth, that prick is who paid your school fees and fed you your whole life.”

“I know it’s just...I’ve never liked him, he’s so cold and have you seen him on tv? He’s so full of himself and he doesn’t know what to do with all that money and...”

“Didn’t you use to have a crush on him? You would see his commercials and go all read.” said your mother from across the room.

“MOTHER !!!”

“Listen, honey, just give it a chance. It’s good money and it will look great on any university application.”

“Your father is right Y/N just see how it goes, we would never force you to stay if it’s unpleasant.”

You never could say no to your parents and half of the time they were right.

“What if I take the job but work at the cafe at nights with Charlie?”

“You could do that but won’t that be exhausting?” questioned your mother.

“Being a personal assistant can be a lot of work especially for Mr.Lord.”

“Maybe your right, I’ll go down to the cafe tomorrow and talk to Charlie. How did you get me this job anyway?”

“Well, his current assistant is pregnant and is going on leave soon. When I dropped him off tonight I asked him.”

“And how did he react ?” you hated that you were curious.

“Well he wasn’t surprised but since it’s only temporary he agreed, he mentioned sometime about how he cannot wait to meet you.”

“There she goes all red again.” said your mother giggling.

“Stop bothering the child Lillian.” said your dad grinning at your mother. Enjoy your embarrassment equally as much.

“Okay fine I’ll do it but if he gets on my nerves I’m quitting.”

X

“What on earth are you wearing ?!” Charlie practically had a heart attack.

“What do you mean this is all I had? I wore it to a christening.”

You shyly pulled down the hem of your dress to get the dress to cover your knees.

“We’re you the one being christened?”

“Oh shut up.”

“Okay listen if you were leaving me to work for Max Lord then you can’t go in looking like that. They will eat you alive. It’s business not pancakes.” said Charlie as he desperately tried to put your hair up.

“What do you suggest?” You asked defeated.

“We'll start by curling your hair if you are going to wear it loose or at least pin it up. Your make up shouldn’t be all over your white-collar and it’s the 80’s your allowed to wear pants, get rid of that dress and maybe buy a pencil skirt.”

“With what money Charlie? I can’t just make a new wardrobe appear.”

“I’ll tell you what. I know this cute thrift place downtown, I’ll take you there and give you your last paycheck early. Sides you get a gift as a thank you for your service yah know.” said Charlie as he grinned at you.

If it wasn’t for Charlie you probably would be a lost cause.

“Okay fine, you and me after work okay. I need your advice if I’m gonna take over the business world.”

Both of you started laughing. Your laughter stopped however when you saw Max’s commercial on the TV that was in the kitchen of the cafe.

“Shoot I’m late, I gotta go. See you later.”

“There she goes.” Mumbled Charlie as he watched you run off.

X

“Being late isn’t exactly a good first impression Y/N.” said Anna as her eyes landed on you.

“I know I’m sorry I lost track of time. Has he asked about me yet ?”

“You’re in luck, he’s not in today. He’s away for business he’s out the whole week. That’s good because if he saw you in that outfit he’d probably send you home.”

“He’d send me home for wearing a short dress what a - “

“No don’t even go there, he’s not like that, he’d send you home because you have terrible taste in fashion,” said Anna as she gave you a stern look.

“This is not an easy job but I trust in you. I’ll show you the basics today and then at the end of the week you’ll be starting on your own.”

The idea was scary. Would you be able to cope all alone in a big office? The one upside though was that Max’s assistant had their own little office away from the other workers which mean nobody could stare at you the way they did when you came up.

At least you could go shopping with Charlie after work, you didn’t want to admit it but you wanted to make a good impression now that you knew you had a second chance. Maybe your parents were right. This could be good for you.

X

Monday morning came zooming than you would have hoped. Your thrifting with Charlie went well and at least now you had a decent enough outfit.

Why did you even want to make a good impression, don’t you loathe this man?

Maybe it was just to avoid the uncomfortable stares from your co-workers. Everyone here looked like they belonged somewhere like they had to succeed.

To be honest, you felt intimidated walking to your office, maybe this wasn’t a good idea, maybe you should just go home and -

“Ohf, I’m so sorry I didn’t look where I was going.” you apologized.

Your bright e/c eyes traveled up to meet the dark brown ones of the man you had just bumped into. It was him. Max Lord.

“That much is clear.” His words sounded forced, almost like he didn’t even want to waste his time talking to you.

“I...I -“

“Out with it girl.”

“I'm new I’m filling in for Anna.” you managed to string together a sentence while still locking eyes with his.

“Oh yes, I was told you’d be here. Uh, why are you standing about? You know where to go.”

“Yes of course.” You muttered.

“Also, why don’t you get me some hot coffee. I’ll be in my office. Knock before entering.”

And just like that, he walked off. People seemed to be in awe of him, you couldn’t blame them, so were you.

You hurried down to the cafeteria and got Max his coffee, luckily Anna had shown you how to make it. No sugar, no milk, no cream no nothing.

“Black, like his soul.” Anna’s words came back to you. She chuckled when seeing your fearful face.

“I’m only joking, he isn’t all that bad. Just don’t cross him and by no means be a smart mouth.”

You wondered what she had meant by that, why would anyone want to talk back to Max in the first place?

You timidly knocked on his office door and entered when you heard his authoritative voice permitting you.

“Here’s your coffee Mr.Max.”

He looked amused at you, not in a good way.

“Mr.Max? Honestly are you that nervous, it’s pathetic.”

“So just Max then ?” And there it was. It’s his fault he made you want to talk back.

It was your turn to look amused as he almost choked on his coffee.

“Cat got your tongue, Max?” For God’s sake why couldn’t you stop talking.

“You may call me Mr.Lord or Sir if the former is going to be a struggle for you.”

“I guess we’ll have to see.”

You turned on your heels and made for the door, ready to go stick your head in a hole.

“Were you this much trouble working at that pathetic little cafe ?” He spat back.

“Oh, much more Sir.”

X

[trashassassin]

Two Halves of a Whole | 2: Side Effects (Vergil x Reader)

The first hints of plot have emerged! If you expect it to stay like this throughout, then I have some bad news for you because I ended up getting a bunch of really sappy ideas and I have no self-control.

This began its life as a kinktober drabble with the prompt “Wet Dreams”, to risk spoiling the incredibly clever twist that I’m sure no one will see coming. I’ve had this idea in my head for several years now and it’s seen the light of day at last.

Alternate title: you really need to lay off the nyquil cause it’s trying to lead you to make bad decisions

Word Count: 1610

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexually Explicit Content, Dumb Premise

This was how you had spent most of your nights for the past couple days, laying in your bed staring at the ceiling, desperately willing sleep to come, and resigned yourself to the fact that you would likely spend the rest of them this way for quite some time.

You had known that this was a bad idea from the start. Something deep inside of you had been screaming this bit of knowledge at you since the very beginning, and yet you chose to ignore it. But even in your wildest imaginings, you never could have envisioned it going quite as poorly as this. 

You turned to one side and wrapped your arms around your pillow, hugging it tightly to your chest. Your bed felt so cold and empty now. 

What had come over you? What had happened to the version of yourself that was perfectly content being alone? You squeezed your eyes shut and silently begged this part of you to come back as the empty hollow burned in your chest.

Fuck it.

You finally relented and made a grab for the bottle of sleeping pills on your nightstand. You hated taking them, seeing as they always affected your dreams and left you in an uncomfortable haze upon waking, but you decided that these temporary side effects would be better than getting no sleep at all.

You took two, knowing full well that one would not be enough, and tried to make yourself as comfortable as possible until they finally took effect.

You were awakened by a knock at your door. At first, in your half asleep state, you thought it was your bedroom door, but as you became more aware, you realized that the sound was coming from deeper inside your apartment.

You shook your head a few times to clear in a futile attempt to clear the fog from it, then rose from your bed, put on one of your big sweaters to cover yourself, and headed out to investigate.

The knock came again and for some reason, you felt compelled to call out, “I’ll be right there,” even though you had no idea at all who could possibly be knocking at your door in the middle of the night.

Someone with shady intentions, no doubt.

Still, in the back of your mind, you couldn’t escape the thought that it may be someone in need of help. If that were the case, it wouldn’t sit right with you to ignore them.

You approached your front door and opened it just a crack.

“Do you have a moment to talk?”

As your mind finally caught up to your senses, your heart sank.

“What the hell are you doing here, Vergil?” you asked, the tone of your voice a healthy mix of groggy and pissed off. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“That makes two of us.” The honest sentiment slipped out before you had a chance to stop it and your face grew hot as the realization sank in. “Make it fast, alright?”

You motioned for him to come inside, then shut the door behind him a little harder than you’d meant to. Your motor functions were not yet back under your control.

“Sit down if you want,” you continued. “Do you want some tea, or something?”

“No, thank you,” he said.

The tone of his voice suggested that he was feeling just as awkward as you were and that set your mind at ease a bit.

He took a seat in one of your dining room chairs and you stood across from him, feeling compelled to pull the hem of your sweater a bit further over your legs. You were quite underdressed compared to him and this made you all the more self-conscious. 

"I'm here to say that I'm sorry," he said. "I would like to try again." 

You snorted. 

"Try again?" you repeated. "You think I can just look at what happened and be like, 'whoops, let's do that over'? This isn't some petty disagreement we had. I know you're not that stupid." 

“I recognize that,” he said, the look on his face suggesting that he’d taken offense at what you’d said. “I would like to try and make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” you asked.

He rose from his seat and walked toward you, coming to a stop only when his body was mere inches from yours.

“Let me show you,” he whispered. “Let me show you that things can go back the way they were.”

“That’s impossible and you know that.”

“Is it?”

He took your right hand in his and brought it up toward your chest.

“Give me a chance,” he said.

He spoke more slowly this time, emphasizing every word. 

There it was again, the voice in your head screaming at you to release his hand, to push him away and make him leave. 

But it was quickly silenced by the realization at just how much you'd missed his touch. Even the small amount of contact that you currently had sent a tingle across your skin. 

"Okay," you said.

Your voice had softened now and he seemed pleased by this.

"Come," he said. "Let's go upstairs."

You were incredibly disappointed with yourself for actually following along with his plan, but in that moment, you felt that you had no choice. You needed this. You were ready to deal with the regrets that would surface in the morning.

He started up the stairs and you followed after him, but only made it about half way up before he turned around and grabbed your wrist, pulling your body tight to his. 

"Do you have any idea how badly I've needed you?" he growled. 

"No more than I've needed you, I can promise you that." 

Another brutally honest admission came tumbling out of your mouth, but you had no time to ruminate on it as he pressed his lips to yours, catching you entirely off guard. 

There was an intensity to his kiss that had never been present before. Could this mean that he'd really missed you as much as he said he did? A part of you was sure he was lying, but to what end, you weren't sure.

He pulled away for just a second, then took your lower lip between his teeth, which drew a sharp gasp from you. 

He lingered there for a second before nipping along your jaw and licking up the length of your neck, which he bit as well.

Your legs suddenly threatened to give out beneath you and you gripped tightly onto his shoulders to prevent yourself from falling.

As his lips found yours again, the two of you stumbled up the stairs, hands roaming all over each other's bodies until you finally reached the top. 

He gripped your wrists again, then pushed you back through your open bedroom door and stuck his hands under your sweater. 

One of them slipped beneath the thin tank top you had underneath it and the voice began to protest once again. 

Stop! This is wrong! 

But your heart was pounding loudly in your ears, your mind focused solely on the searing heat of his touch.

You fumbled around blindly for a bit before you managed to locate the button on his pants, which you unclasped to allow your hand inside. 

You wrapped it around his erection, which was already straining hard at his underwear, and rubbed it with a feverish intensity that you realized you were no longer in control of. 

"See?" he purred. "Just like old times." 

He gripped your hip with one hand, then shoved the other beneath the band of your panties and began to draw circles over your clit.

"You're already so wet for me," he said.

You wanted to protest, to come up with some kind of snarky comeback, but all that you could manage was a soft moan as he slipped his fingers inside you. 

"I'm gonna make you cum." 

You awoke with a gasp, your heart still pounding in your head as it had been moments earlier, your entire body drenched in sweat beneath your comforter, which was now entirely too warm. 

You cast it aside and assessed your surroundings. Had any of that actually happened? 

No, it hadn't, you realized, as your eyes fell on the sweater you'd been wearing, which was still exactly where you'd left it the night before.

It disgusted you how disappointed this made you. 

Your heart rate took a few moments to finally slow back to its resting pace, and once it had, you decided it would be a good idea to get yourself a glass of water. 

Had you been panting in your sleep? You must have been, because your mouth was incredibly dry. 

You glanced at the clock as you passed by on your way to the kitchen and it alerted you to the fact that it was only six AM. This was earlier than you'd been wanting to wake up, but there was no way you would ever manage to get back to sleep being as worked up as you were. 

As you made your way down the stairs, the sight of them drew the images from the dream back into the forefront of your mind, the memory of them bringing attention to the painful ache between your legs. 

What would it take to make you forget him? Whatever it was, you were going to figure it out, preferably before he’d managed to drive you completely out of your mind.

[trulycertain]

The WIP Post

After months of being on orig, I’ve been playing with the odd fic idea... and both are for Eurojank RPGs that about five people actually played. Oops?

Idea one: Vampyr AU where Jonathan joins Priwen as a combat medic post-killing Mary - because they seem to have a bunch of information about vampires, and as a passive means of suicide because he hates himself.

Idea two: Greedfall, post-canon De Sardet/Vasco AU. To be more specific, the "there's a bunch of pining and the romance doesn't happen until post-canon when De Sardet is completely done with Tír Fradí and Vasco takes her on holiday with him on a routine cargo run to one of the Naut isles, where he has to go to get confirmation of rank and his commander's tatts" AU.

Er... extracts from both follow. Warnings for barely-there prose while I brush things into shape, and vasriable character voices while I learn.

Probably-unnamed Vampyr AU

“Sir. Someone... asked to join us, sir.”

McCullum looks up from scribbling a report on the events of Tuesday’s dismal patrol. “It’s late for it. You checked them?” They know he’ll do it himself again, it’d be nothing more than damn stupid to invite a leech to warm themselves by your hearth, but it’s good to get them into the habit. Small oversights get you killed.

“Yes, sir.” It’s Perkins, who’s still a little green round the edges but is shaping up well. Even if the hat’s too small for his ears, and he’s panting as if he’s run ahead.

He nods. “They old enough?”

“It’s… a gentleman, sir. Says he’s a doctor.”

And he looks up at doctor, unable to help himself, and brings the pen back to the inkwell. Old Len’s, well, old. Tired, and nothing more than a temporary medic made to throw bandages on wounds, splash it with brandy and hope for the best. It doesn’t mean he’ll take the offer, but it’s something. “Well, then. Show the man in.”

They do it the Priwen way. Perhaps if there were daylight shining through the windows, they’d be a damn sight friendlier.

The stranger’s steps are slow, and his hands are raised, but... even with three swords and five pistols on him, he doesn’t flinch. He’s either calm, or suicidal. (Or he thinks he can destroy the lot of them in a minute, with blood and shadow.) He looks right past the wheel of death around him and watches McCullum levelly, sharp-eyed over the guards’ shoulders. Not that that’d be hard for him. He’s tall, even by McCullum’s reasonable standards; dark, with a frock coat that makes him look like a hearse driver and might have been quite fine, once. And the beard says it’s been a long journey back, but he’s kept the short-back-and-sides that speaks of the front. And that pale, haunted look.

He just raises a brow and says, after a pause so significant you could use it as tar: “Good evening.” And evening is putting it mildly, they’re in the back end of night and about to head into morning. Still, politeness, other than yes-sir no-sir brothers-let-us-eat, is always interesting to find. Especially when a man’s treating this much weaponry like it’s just a faux pas at some tea party.

“You look like it’s been a long night, sir,” McCullum says, keeping his voice airy even while he has his eyes on the three men he could command to shoot, allowing the sarcasm to drop into sir.  He’s tired, and there’s a reason Priwen doesn’t get many midnight visitors in one of the rougher parts of the district. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had the ‘flu.” They wouldn’t have even let a stranger in the door, if they’d thought so. Or if he’d seemed like a leech.

Their visitor says, “Seeing as half the doctors in London still struggle to make a diagnosis, I’d like to see your notes.” It’s testy, and there’s a certain weariness in it that’s familiar from every time McCullum’s had a nurse or a doctor sigh or cluck over him. It makes his people – butcher’s sons and drivers, to a one – fidget, with the urgency of old, know your place instincts.

McCullum’s never had much time for that sort of thing. He raises a brow. “You’d know, then?”

The stranger grimaces, rubbing at his forehead, and for a moment that cut-glass primness cracks. “I’m… sorry, there have been a few too many night shifts.” The stranger looks away, swiftly, and something wistful crosses his face. Then it’s clamped down again, under all that English, officer reserve. “I practised here, and at the front. In fact, that’s why I’m here. To offer my services, if I may.” He hesitates and shifts forwards and just for a moment, he looks like he might offer his hand, too – as if interviewing for a position. That shouldn’t be so comical as it is.

“With Priwen? Why the hell would you do that?”

He’s got an accent that says the Brotherhood, not Priwen. He’s tall, with that straight-backed, confident-toff posture that time overseas has probably only worsened. And he looks like he’s about to drop. McCullum’s seen staff at the Pembroke scurrying home from their rounds, and they’ve looked better.

The hint of a sigh, like this is all some ridiculous game to him, and the doctor raises his hand to his collar. At least twelve hands twitch on blade-hilts and triggers, but McCullum raises a palm and they respect him enough to stop. The doctor looks around, sharp-eyed, and then nods with a prim schoolteacher’s relief that they’ve come to their senses. He unbuttons his collar, and tugs it aside.

So that’s why - and now McCullum has to tug hard on the guards’ respect and pull them back like they’re dogs at a bone. Even the doctor seems startled at the ferocity of their response, though he hides it fast under the tightening of his jaw. Probably angry at themselves for even letting him get this far. He’s angry they didn’t check the obvious, just left it at the eyes and the pulse.

There are two holes just by the throat – not the usual neatness one’d expect, but a little jagged, as if someone – as if the good doctor – fought back with a vengeance.

“It damn near killed me,” the doctor says, quietly. “And my sister...” He chokes on that and looks like he’s had a swift kick, before he recovers himself. McCullum understands that well enough. “Believe me, I have no fondness for whatever did this.” Softer, now: “And I need to understand why. Before more people are...” He swallows, thinks better of what he was probably about to say. “...harmed.”

His eyes are wide and troubled, but the resigned sort of troubled, not the wants-a-fight variety. Like he’s not all here and somewhere in him, he still doesn’t believe this is happening. Few people survive a leech attack, but he’s seen enough of that face in the men coming back from the war, too: ones who believed that God, or their names, or luck would protect them and ended up crawling face-down in the dirt instead. Some of them, their bodies come back, but their souls never do. Same way McCullum has half of him back in a crumbling house in Dublin. But unlike him, the doctor’s out of his depth.

McCullum steps forwards to examine the holes, and they’re deep. Must have hurt like a bastard. Something powerful did this. Definitely not a neonate. Probably… something at the back of his mind mutters ekon, but he refuses to use the nonsense names they try and civilise themselves with. A monster is a monster. It’s damn lucky that the doctor’s walked away.

Damn lucky.

He doesn’t smell the stink of human blood that never quite comes out of their clothes, or see the tinge of red around the eyes that suggests a recent feed, on something with a soul. (They can never stop themselves for long. They all come back to it, in the end. And then the memories stay in their eyes.) The doctor stares him down, obviously uncomfortable but refusing to move. No. Blue, and such an uncannily pale blue that he’d think leech, if he hadn’t seen it on just enough humans before. Bloodshot and bloody exhausted, but not that inhuman, wrong tinge of red.

“Let me check your teeth,” he says.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, and there’s the posh-boy disbelief. It’s better than the absent-eyed shell shock; he’ll take it. “Is that really - ?”

“Teeth.”

They can tuck them away well enough, but most are too lazy to bother. It’s muscle memory, to walk about as they are. And besides, what leech would be stupid enough to walk into a room full of the Guard of Priwen and ask for a job? They’re arrogant, but they like to think they have more class than that. Less brass bollocks, more lurking in the shadows.

Bontemps

"De Sardet?" She looks at him - him, not the memory from months ago. His eyes are concerned. "You were some miles away there." She lies, "I was just thinking... Bontemps. Not a place I've heard of." "No. I doubt you would have." And she'd suspected, but the carefully-casual way he says it, the way he minutely shifts against the wall and the leather creaking of that new commander's coat... She stares at him. "A Naut isle, then?" "Indeed." "Am I allowed to know this?" He snorts. "You know too much already." The shifting turns to a tidal wave. "That brings me to my next point, actually." He takes his hands from the wall and turns to her, truly looks at her, then. "I have a... proposition for you." And the mulish way he says it, the slightest raise of his eyebrows, means he knows how that could sound. He sees her suppressing a smile and half-sighs; when they first met, he wouldn't even have let her have that, and it tells her he's not unamused. She settles for the other way to cheerfully misunderstand him. "I don't think tattoos would suit me as well as they do you, Vasco."

"No, I - " He exhales, and smooths a hand over the wall. She wonders if part of him is still wishing for the creak of wood and the sway of a ship; the way she misses her mother's laughter and Constantin regaling her with some tall tale and proper Serene tea, will always miss them. Out of command and out of a fight, he isn't wearing his gloves, and two curving lines show as his sleeve rides up - swiftly hidden as it pulls down again. He pauses, as if gathering his courage, and then, in an exhale: "You said you hoped you'd be able to sail with me again, once. Did you mean that?" "I meant it." She grins askance at him. "I really did have no complaints about the crossing." And he smiles, swift and contained but with less of that uncertainty now. In the first days they knew each other, he'd seemed... warmed, but reluctantly, wondering why a noble was buttering him up; was asking about the lines on his face and listening to stories of storm crossings and a man caught in a rope, pulled back overboard with broken ribs but surviving, in the nick of time. At least she'd thought so, until she realised somewhere along the way that it was... the closest thing he showed to bashfulness. He'd always been too self-confident for it to be obvious, but she saw it. He inclines his head. "I'm glad to hear it." He swallows. "I'm offering you that opportunity. If there's nowhere else you need or want to go. If you would like it." "To Bontemps?" "To Bontemps. We have room for a few more, and it's not unknown to have an outsider with you." He tilts his head and looks out over the market, and she gets the feeling he's severely understating it when he says, "Unusual, perhaps."

She realises with surprise that this is the thought he's been chewing over, the one he hesitated to tell her. As if she wouldn't like to sail with him, when there's... "There's nothing I'd like more."

He glances sharply over at her, surprised.

That was probably too earnest. The time withdrawing into herself, doing paperwork rather than travelling, taking dinner in her room... She's lost the knack of things. She adds swiftly, "Last time, I learned so many new and interesting curses. And you were quite a sight climbing the rigging."

At the surprised raise of an eyebrow and the way she suspects he'd be flushing if he were a lesser, noble man, she wonders if she's overstepped the mark. It was always enjoyable, to be sarcastic and to let him respond, even if for most of their travels she'd stayed away from anything that might be... misconstrued. She'd been paying him for the crossing, and even once they landed, she'd had the ability to make his life rather difficult. Even with him being assigned to her, she'd had no doubt that he'd walk away - probably quite colourfully, if he felt it necessary - but that was no reason to make him uncomfortable. But somehow, whether it's due to his own dry commentary or the fact he knows her better than most, she forgets to be diplomatic. (He had been. A sight, that is. She remembers the muttering below about He's actually in a good bloody mood, for once. Only a mad bastard like that would be in a good mood in fog. And then she'd gone above, and realised after a few seconds who it was calling down orders; who it was climbing down swift and sure like he was simply in a tree in a garden, calling something bright and inevitably insulting to one of the crew who'd made a comment. He'd hopped down onto the deck to retrieve the coat he'd tossed there - shirt soaked from the fog they'd had to pass through and the sea, hair damp and wild and curving into waves, new ink-lines revealed by the shirtcollar that must extend at least to his collarbones. He'd still been looking to the heckler, grin savage and joyous. She’d realised, then, that she’d never seen him smile before: truly, not the swift insincere thing he offered with pleasantries. The smile had lasted until he'd seen her there - and then it had fallen and he'd assumed the usual wary tired briskness, even through severely smudged kohl. A bow of his head and Your Excellency. I apologise for the delay, but we're back on course. And then he'd walked swiftly past her, orders sharp to the crew again, swiftly buckling the coat and jamming his hat back on his head, probably back to his cabin to find a change of clothes. And she'd abruptly realised she knew absolutely nothing about their captain.) She adds, swiftly and in a much airier tone, "If I were a braver woman, I'd ask you to teach me." He leans back against the low wall, crosses his arms. "If I didn't prefer you alive, I might take you up on that." But there's a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and she realises what that surprised expression was, when he glanced at her: he's pleased, quietly so, and barely trying to hide it.

Her realisation seems to make his resistance crumble: he grins at her, sharp and swift and lovely like a knife in the sun... And she wonders where that thought came from. Either way, she can't help returning it. He steps forwards, hat throwing shadows onto his face, and looks at her with that strange, surprised, fleeting thing that he always seems to tuck away before she can quite understand it. He steps forwards, his grin falling, hat throwing shadows onto his face, eyes dark and wide. "De Sardet, I..." A noblewoman with skirts entirely too expansive walks past them, and they have to swerve and flatten themselves against the wall and try not to fall over it entirely. It's a new fashion, and one De Sardet has been only too glad to avoid. They watch her go in silent disbelief.

When she looks back to him, his hat is resting in his hands where he's had to swiftly remove it, and he looks like he's gritting his teeth. Then it's gone, and he says, with a captain's brisk professionalism, “It’s three months’ journey. And we could be there for some time. I understand if that changes your mind.”

“Not at all. I… have few plans, to be quite honest with you.”

He nods with a relieved exhale. “Good. We set sail in a week. I would... like to see you there."

[lesbian-deadpool]

"Soulmates”

Part Three Of Three: The Truth Of The Matter

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 1,825

Warnings: Angst. Death. Canon Endgame. I’m so sorry.

Request: For the anon who donated to the Australian Bushfires, who wanted angst. Well, you got it, buddy.

Summary: She loved you. Always.

A/N: Again, thanks to @missmonsters2 for helping me out with this idea.’ It’s shorter than the others. I know. But I tried my best lol.

(Not my GIF)

***

Your eyes fluttered open, showing you the bright blue sky of Wakanda above you, the treetops a beautiful green against the warm sun. Birds were chirping, bringing peace to your otherwise fuzzy body.

You were disorientated. That much was for sure. But you were forgetting something. Something important. You just knew you were. But what was it?

Leaves rustling and twigs shaping in half brought your attention to behind you. Moving your still laying head to peer above you, you saw a disgruntled looking Bucky, his hair matted with the battle that you had just lost.

Lost.

You had lost.

As Bucky whispered for Steve, you sat up, chest heaving.

Where the hell was Natasha?

Your eyes were wild as you looked around for her. Finding T’challa, a crouching Wanda, your eyes snapping to Sam rushing out from the trees. Along with the countless other Wakanda soldiers scattered around.

“Natasha?!” you yelled, fingers weaving through leaves, twigs, and dirt. Anything to hold you onto reality.

Where the fuck was everyone?

Hastily, you moved to stand.

“NATASHA?!” you roared. You had to find her. You needed to find her. God. You had to tell her how stupid you were. You had to tell her. You had to tell her.

“She’s not here.”

You looked up to find a strange man wearing a cape, and a goatee that he had looked like he had stolen from Tony, standing before you.

“Where the fuck is she?” you growled. You didn't know who this man was. But if he knew where Natasha was, you would stop at nothing to find her.

“I don’t know.” You were about to call bullshit when he spoke again. “But we are needed.” That’s when you noticed Peter, three others, and that weird tree dude that Thor had brought along with the raccoon guy, who was also nowhere to be seen, standing behind the cape-wearing Tony Stark wannabe. “It’s been five years. And there's a battle that is in dire need of our assistance.”

“It’s been how long now?”

***

You were looking around everywhere you could for Natasha when you had exited the portal from Wakanda. Because apparently the goatee guy was a wizard Named Stephen Strange, or Doctor Strange as his alias, and could also create portals.

Oh well, you've seen crazier things.

And this might count as one of them.

The compound, the very same one you had left not even a few days ago -in your time- was destroyed. Crumbling down into the crater where most of it had assumedly blown up, parts of the building still smoking and on fire.

You stood, wide-eyed and breathing heavy, looking at Thanos and his large army, along with the people and beings in yours.

Great. So you had to do this shit all over again.

Not even ten minutes break.

Fucking- A!

“Avengers-”

Hey, you knew that voice. Looking to your side you spotted Steve, not even third feet away from you. How you hadn’t noticed him before was beyond you. But then again, you were well-intended on finding Natasha before you could even imagine noticing anyone else.

God, you wished she was alright.

She had to be.

“Assemble.”

You scoffed humouredly to yourself. Well, at least he finally finished his sentence, and after years of you waiting on him. Not even a second later, you were racing off towards Thanos’s incoming army. If it really had been five years. They you were gonna give your all, to make sure that this would well-and-truly be the final battle that the purple titan, and all of his followers, would ever see.

Gasping for air as you glanced around, watching out for any incoming aliens, while you took a much-needed breather, when you spotted someone else you knew.

“Clint?” you asked, almost sceptically because of the man's appearance.

“Y/N?” he asked breathlessly, and you could tell he was so happy to see you.

Shaking your head to regain your thoughts, you remembered what you were originally going to ask the blonde man.

“Where’s Nat?” His jaw ticked and his eyes welled with tears. “Clint?” you asked slowly, but still no reply, “Clint, where’s Nat?”

He looked to the ground below your feet, steadily shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“No.” You took a step back, your gun dropping from your hand and onto the battle-worn ground, as tears begin to well in your own eyes. “No, she can’t- Clint. It- It’s Nat. She’s strong. She’s so strong. She’s a fighter, Clint. She can’t have-”

“Y/N.” Salty tears rolled down his cheeks. “It’s true.”

Your second tear rolled down your face, falling to splatter upon the dirt beside your boots when the fire began to blase within you.

“Why?”

Clint inhaled a deep breath like he was about to tell you exactly what happened to the red-head. But instead, he looked off into the distance, where the battle was still raging, and where the purple titan Thanos stood.

Then it all clicked.

“Him,” you seethed, causing the tattooed man to look your way once again, not that you gave him the same treatment. Your eyes fixated on the giant who thought of himself as a god. “He’s the reason. He’s the reason that Natasha’s dead.”

Finally, you snapped your attention towards Clint. “Right?” you hissed, to which you only received a nod in return.

At Clint’s confirmation, you growled, picking up your gun and racing off into battle, once again. Swearing to deal out as much damage as you could, before you reach Thanos, fully intending for him to pay for all that he has caused. For everything, he has taken away. For Natasha.

***

It felt like you had blinked, and suddenly you were watching Tony Stark die in front of you.

You hadn't blinked. Of course, you hadn't. Blood coating your hands and all the way up your bare forearms, as you panted. The rage within you diminishing with every intake of stale, death-filled air.

Dropping to your knees, squeezing Tony’s shoulder lightly as he took his last breath. You allowed your tears to fall along with the others falling to their knee, finally letting yourself cry for Natasha. And now Tony.

How did life change so much in such a small amount of time? Was it even possible? It had to be. Because it was happening to you right now.

Your heart was slowly tearing into two, you could feel every tiny rip with each ragged gasp of breath, and tear that dropped. Quiet sobs racked through your body, you just couldn’t hold any of it in anymore, not the heartbreak, the hate for all that has happened, the rage you felt for that purple fuck. Noe of it. It was all pouring out of you, like a broken tap, the tears soaking your cheeks a clear indication of that.

Something- Or rather someone, bound into your side. Holding you tightly. Letting tears of their own drip onto your shoulder.

Wanda.

You could tell that much from the dirty hair brushing against your cheek.

You won.

But you, along with others lost so much.

***

“About, ...”

“What about her?”

“She-” A deep sigh, as if to control their emotions. “She found someone else. She’s happy.”

“Right,” you noted, struggling to find any emotions to react to it. “I don’t care.”

“Of course you do, Y/N,” Wanda said, “You loved her. Still do probably. You both believed you were soulmates, or as close as we can get in this world.”

“People are wrong all the time,” you said, never once taking your eyes away from the lake before you, “I know I was. And I was too blind to see what was in front of me, the whole time.”

“She loved you, y’know?” Clint asked, before clarifying who, “Natasha.”

“I do. I know that now.”

There was a long pause, filled only with you watching the ripples glide along the lake, the crunching of leaves and twigs, as people walked away from you, and breathing in the fresh nature air. You still weren't used to it, from all of the smoke-filled heavy air, from the battle two days prior. It was clean. Too clean for how dull and dirty the world felt to you now.

“She was with me not even three days ago... she lived five years without me- us. But, I had only seen her a few days ago. And now she’s gone,” you were in a daze as you spoke. You didn't even know who you were speaking to anymore. Or hell, if anyone was still there to hear you.

But the hand that was suddenly placed on your back, rubbing soft circles into it, let you know that you were, in fact, not alone.

Glancing to your side, you saw Wanda. She was one of the people who were the closest to knowing how you felt. How that lost feels. And you could see it in her sad tear-filled eyes, and understanding tight-lipped smile.

“She knows,” she told you, “She knows how you feel about her.”

It may have been stupid. It may have just been your mind. But you felt a strange wave of temporary hope, brightness, warmth. Her. You felt her presence. And you just couldn’t let that go without saying something. No matter how strange, and crazy it may seem.

“You mean everything to me, Nat.”

And with that. The feeling was gone.

***

“Y/N?” You looked over your shoulder to see Stephen Strange, standing not so far behind you. You turned your head to face the lake before you, Stephen taking that as his queue to approach you further, placing a hand on your shoulder. Almost everyone had left long ago, ready to begin living there lives again.

Lucky bastards.

What were you meant to do now?

Suddenly you had an inkling of how Natasha had felt. Even when you had still been around. The sadness that rested against the centre of your chest, making itself a home there. One that you knew you would have an extremely hard time getting it to leave.

“I saw fourteen-million-six-hundred and five different futures-” he informed you.

“I know. And we only won one.”

“Yes. We did.” He nodded solemnly, eyes moving to the side so that he could look at you, while still facing the lake with you. “But, she loved you in every one of them.”

With a pat to your shoulder, he left you alone.

Tears blurred your vision, sobs pounding against your chest, begging to be let out, but you held them in. You vaguely saw the dirt ground, green patches of what you assumed to be grass, along with a multitude of different browns, probably sticks, and other woodland objects, as your head moved on its own accord, to face the floor.

Your voice wavered as you spoke, threatening to crack with the pressure of your emotions.

“So did I.”

Taglist:

@womenlovingwomen-imagines, @shycucumbersandwich, @jxst-livin-my-life, @rofl987, @saltymaddiee, @marvelb00kwolf, @kangerland, @hernanadez-23