#she looks distinctly UnComfortable the entire time

[petpluto]

William’s one pitch contained at least 3 pitches, and he kept steamrolling over Cecily’s objections until she was forced to bring out the big guns of “you’re beneath me”.

He seems to have created a whole vision of Cecily that doesn’t correspond to who she is; and when she protests that, he doesn’t listen. We only see William interact with a woman he’s interested in once, it’s true. But it’s a doozy of a bad attempt and hits on so many Nice Guy™️ buttons.

actually do love that as humans Spike and Angel were just objectively the last guys you'd want to know. bloke who's far too aware of his own objective hotness and swears he's soo in love with the barmaid of the week with the sole intention of getting laid vs guy who's floundering so pathetically at the social occasion you make an effort to be polite and include him, but you can pinpoint the exact second he misinterprets this and you know he's going to keep writing you terrible poems even after the fifth time you try and let him down gently.

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Two - Trying

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: The baby fever is real. Jessie and you can’t keep your hands off each other as you work to start your family.

Warnings: Smut. G!P Jessie. Sexting. Edging. G!P (girl penis) sex. Preg and breeding kinks.

A/N: G!P Jessie/Control series. The series won’t be purely smut, I’m envisioning lots of romance and fluff. But, if the moment seems right, so be it lol.

“I keep seeing babies everywhere. Istg.”

“Yeah? Well I keep seeing places we can fuck to make sure we have a baby.”

“I’m sorry. That was really inappropriate 😣. It seemed like a good response in the moment. What I legitimately have been thinking about is how effin beautiful you’ll be when you start to show.”

“Baby lol. It’s fine. I’m not bothered.”

“And yeah? Can’t wait to see me swell with your baby? I can’t wait either. I’m picturing your hands all over me as I start to grow round, carrying your baby.”

Jessie felt that familiar sensation between her legs and immediately closed her phone, replanting her feet on the ground and shifting uncomfortably as she felt herself starting to grow hard at the thought of you. She did her best to casually readjust her shorts and clasped her hands together, resting them over her burgeoning hard-on and tried to think of something entirely unsexy.

This was new territory for Jessie. Normally she wouldn’t be worried about such things, control was rarely an issue, but now? Everything was turning her on. Janine talked about shopping earlier - something that would typically do absolutely nothing for Jessie, but this time all she could think about was fucking you in the changing room and cumming as deep inside of you as possible.

She honed in on a nearby conversation some teammates were having about gameplay tactics. Perfect - that would do the trick.

Staving off further arousal, Jessie picked up her phone again.

“Okay. You need to stop. I’m getting…excited. And that’s not cool at the moment.”

“You started this!”

“Not my fault you get turned on by me so easily 😘”

“Ugh. It’s the worst lol. You’re so lucky. You can get turned on and no one would be the wiser. Me? Yeah, the team would have a field day.”

“Well everyone’s gonna know what we’ve been up to when we tell them I’m pregnant.”

“You’re such a tease.”

They didn’t actually know yet if you were pregnant or not. It’d only been a week since that morning when you finally let her cum inside of you. But you’d both been feral since. Every conversation was like this.

And if it wasn’t like this, it was both of you ooing and awwing at anything even remotely baby related. You were talking about names, schools, lessons and sports, family dynamics, everything. You were both looking at baby clothes, debating what features your baby would inherit from her, from you, imagining cute moments and milestones, the list went on.

The baby fever was real.

The day this all started, Jessie’d grown more and more anxious as the day went on. She was desperately worried that she’d forced you into something you didn’t actually want, that she’d taken advantage in the heat of the moment and that you’d changed your mind. It was a huge commitment and a huge change that you’d acted on on a whim.

Her thoughts had been rattling around in her head and - you knew her so well - you’d inquired when she was quieter than usual. Jessie’d blurted out her concerns, barely taking a breath and her voice even trembling as she offered to get you Plan B if you wanted it and swore to wear a condom next time.

You’d given her a puzzled look, looking upset even. She remembered distinctly how you questioned if she didn’t want to start a family together. If it was her who thought she’d made a mistake, because it certainly wasn’t you. You’d take Plan B if she wanted you to, but as far as you were concerned and wanted, you were trying for a baby.

That brief misunderstanding was quickly resolved - to the point of you two fucking on the couch. Things got so heated Jessie ended up fucking you onto the floor before cumming deep inside of you once more.

That night, instead of Jessie going to the pharmacy to get you Plan B, she got you prenatal vitamins instead.

Since then, you two couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. You’d always been hot for one another, but this was a whole new level.

So here Jessie sat, leg bobbing up and down as she struggled to stay focused on matters at hand and trying desperately to distract herself from thinking of going home to you and making sure that 9 months from now you’d be bringing a little baby Fleming, or [y/last name], home together.

Her phone buzzed.

“Maybe so 😉. Hey, we still have dinner with Sam and Kelli tonight, right?”

Jessie nearly groaned. Not that she didn’t enjoy spending time with them, but, well, it delayed her plans.

“Right. I love them, but, that’s going to be torture.”

“Why is that?”

Jessie smirked. You knew exactly why.

“You’re really trying to mess with me.”

“You’re just too much fun.”

——————

Jessie held the car door as you stepped into the back of Sam’s car. Jessie got in after you as you scooted over and Kelli climbed into the front.

Dinner was great - the fact that it was late into the night now was a testament to the good food and conversation. Jessie spent a solid portion of the evening likely staring at you adoringly - she loved how easily you got along with her teammates and you really were her favourite person.

At the same time, dinner was entirely too long. Jessie’d contended with stray touches from you on her thigh, her waist, arms, etc. all night long. And it was taking significant effort to remain engaged in conversation and to not let herself get too handsy with you.

As Sam drove you both home, Jessie’s phone buzzed.

“It’s been so hard keeping my hands off of you tonight.”

“I’m not entirely sure you kept your hands off of me lol. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Shut up lol. I can’t help it if you looked so sexy. Seeing you sitting there all I could think about was sinking myself down onto your cock and riding you.”

Jessie’s eyes immediately snapped up off her screen to focus elsewhere as she silently exhaled through her mouth. Her eyes darted around before braving a look your direction and seeing the teasing smirk on your face.

Jessie exhaled once more as she brought up her phone again.

“You’re such a jerk.”

“The only thing I want to jerk is you.”

“Omg. You’re such a dork and yet you’re still turning me on.”

“That’s because you’re a dork, too, dear lol.”

“Seriously though, I want my legs wrapped around you while you fuck me deep and hard. Like you’ve been thinking about me all day.”

Jessie’s cheeks puffed out as she worked to remain composed. Despite her effort, she felt herself starting to stiffen at the thought of your tight, slick tunnel gripping her. She shot you a helpless stare.

She watched as you shifted your eyes towards Sam and Kelli up front; she followed your gaze. They were animatedly talking with one another, Jessie wasn’t entirely sure about what and she didn’t get a chance to decipher it before she felt your hand sneak across her leg and cup her slowly stiffening cock through her pants.

Jessie jolted in her seat, her eyes immediately scanning between their two friends to see if they noticed. Thankfully they were blissfully unaware. She shot you a look somewhere between a warning and pleading.

You bit your bottom lip as your hand slowly caressed Jessie through her pants. Jessie couldn’t stop her head from falling back slightly as she felt herself growing into your waiting and attentive hand. She grit her teeth and straightened her posture, inadvertently pushing herself further into your hand, the friction causing her cock to twitch.

“-what do you think, Jess?”

“Huh?” Jessie asked, her eyes widening and your hand immediately retracting. She shot a glance to Sam in the rearview mirror. “Sorry what?”

“Snow storm or monsoon?”

Jessie shifted in her seat again, nearly wincing at how her cock strained against her pants. She blinked repeatedly and swallowed as she tried to compose a response.

“Snow. Canadian. I’ve had enough rain,” she managed.

Kelli slapped playfully at Sam’s arm.

“Told you,” she said before the two continued talking.

Jessie was working to steady her breath when her phone buzzed again.

“I wish you could feel how absolutely wet I am for you. I think I’ve soaked through my panties.”

Jessie puffed out her cheeks with a silent exhale of exasperation as she palmed her thighs and shifted uncomfortably once more. If she wasn’t fully hard before, she was now. She looked up at the roof of the car in a vain attempt to settle down before she shot you a mild glare.

Finally, the car slowed and pulled over in front of your building.

The girls all exchanged their goodbyes. You thankfully exuding charm and warmth that Jessie lacked in the moment as her mind raced to plan an exit that would conceal her raging hard on as best as possible. Thank god it was dark out, but still. If she got out of this car and Kelli or Sam clocked her tented pants she’d never, ever hear the end of it.

She shot you a glare despite herself as you tossed your sweater at her. She bundled it up and held it against her as she climbed out.

“You’re welcome,” you said teasingly as the girls drove off and you two walked inside. Jessie shot you another look when you snickered at how she was walking.

“You’re mean,” Jessie pouted as she continued to complain about how uncomfortable this felt.

The moment they got into the elevator, Jessie pinned you against the wall and crashed into your lips with a heated kiss. Your hand immediately cupped Jessie’s bulge, massaging it. Jessie’s eyes screwed shut as a strong wave of arousal rushed through her. Goosebumps raised across her skin as your breath was suddenly hot in her ear.

“When you sink your cock into me a minute from now I doubt you’ll think I’m so mean.”

Jessie’s cock twitched under your hand, pulling a grin and a soft chuckle out of you.

“Jesus Christ. What are you doing to me?” Jessie asked as she ground her aching cock against your hand.

The elevator dinged and you both exited towards your apartment. You retrieved your keys and, according to Jessie, took your sweet time opening the door.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Jessie growled under her breath, her arms wrapped around your middle as she kissed the back of your neck.

“What do you mean?” You asked impishly as you rolled your hips back into her much like you had the morning that started this all.

The moment the door swung open, Jessie ushered you inside, carelessly dropping your sweater and purse aside as she hoisted you into her arms and pressing your back into the wall as she kissed you hard.

A wanting gasp escaped you followed by another as soon as Jessie rocked her hips into you. She let out a low moan at the fleeting relief the friction provided.

Jessie only managed a couple more wanton thrusts before she lowered you and began tearing your clothes off.

“Get rid of these,” she ordered as she peeled each item off with urgency.

“You too,” you panted as you unzipped her pants and shoved them down her legs while she quickly raised her hands over her head removing her shirt and sports bra. You moaned hungrily as she tossed them aside, her hair now unruly, her lean but muscular physique on full display as stood there in just her tented boxers.

“God, you couldn’t be more gorgeous,” you told her as you took a step back, bracing yourself against the wall and devouring her with your eyes. “I couldn’t be more proud to have you as the mother of our child. I’m so lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” Jessie exhaled as she took off her boxers, her aching cock finally free of its confines and standing at full attention for you. She rushed toward you, closing the space between you, you wrapping you legs around her trim waist immediately as she lifted you.

Your kiss broke off as both of your jaws fell slack as she entered you. Her senses went wild as the tip stretched your entrance and slid in, her length immediately surrounded by your hot, fluttering heat.

“Oh fuck,” she breathed as her forehead rolled against yours in ecstasy. She subconsciously stretched out her jaw a couple of times as she adjusted to the sensations. “Fuck, you’re dripping wet, baby.”

“I wasn’t kidding earlier,” you said breathlessly, your fingers digging into her strong shoulders, you mouth still agape in the wake of her filling you so exquisitely.

Jessie’s fingers dug into the flesh of your ass as she began to pump in and out of you, slowly withdrawing before surging upwards and to the hilt. Measured, for now.

“God, I can’t describe how amazing you feel. I’m addicted,” she told you as she worked to control her breathing “Everything reminds me of you. I just want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“I love you, Jess,” you nearly whined as she filled you again and again, sending waves of pleasure through you.

Jessie’s thrusts started to pick up, hips jerking up into you with gradually increasing urgency.

“Gonna make you a mommy,” she panted into your neck as she rut into you. “You’re going to be such a good mom. I already know. Can’t wait to see you heavy with my baby. Can’t wait to show you off,” she went on, voice shuddering with each thrust.

Your moans grew wild and when you rocked against Jessie to meet her thrusts, she grunted, hips slapping against you in a couple more punctuated thrusts before she maneuvered you both to the floor. She was careful as she set you down and remained buried deep inside of you the entire time.

“Oh fuck, Jess,” you whispered. “You fuck me so good. I love spreading my legs for you.”

Jessie flexed over top of you, pushing herself as deep as she could with each thrust as she brought her hand to your clit and rubbed your throbbing clit.

“God, I’m gonna cum already,” Jessie panted.

You moaned deeply as you kissed her. “Me too. I’ve been waiting for this all day. Make me yours - cum inside me.”

Jessie grunted as she felt that familiar tension rising and starting to radiate out. The pleasure was so great it was nearly painful.

She blinked hard several times as she focused on staving off her orgasm until she felt you tense up beneath her, a cry falling from your lips.

No amount of focus or determination could’ve held her climax at bay with the way you were mewling beneath her and how your pussy pulsed even tighter around her cock.

“Here it comes,” she panted, stray tendrils of sweaty hair falling from her face as she dug her feet into the floor to bury herself deep inside of you as she came.

Jessie surprised herself as she nearly yelled as she exploded inside of you, her entire body tensing up as rope after rope of her seed filled you.

It was many moments later before anyone spoke.

“Who needs a bed when we just fuck on the floor all the time now?” You laughed.

“I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. I promise I’ll take you to bed next time,” Jessie said as she finally wiped the sweat from her brow and went to shift off of you. A quiet grin crossed her face as you clutched her waist and held her in place with a pointed look.

“It’s okay, Jess,” you chuckled after assuring that she wouldn’t pull out. “You might as well have your way with me now because when I’m big as a house we’ll have to be a bit more mindful.”

“Oh God,” Jessie groaned as a renewed wave of tension went through her. She felt blood starting to flow back to her length already. “Careful, baby. You were complaining about how you’ve barely been able to sit down - you’re not going to get any reprieve tonight if you keep that talk up.”

You kissed her through a cheeky grin.

“Complaining is a strong word. I consider myself lucky you have the stamina you do.”

A/N: Part Three is available here.

[thealphapxnguin]

Whisky and Dreams

A John Price x fem!Reader fanfiction, inspired by a prompt by @dante-mightdie

Click here for AO3 version.

Part One

The dim half-light fell on your face as you sat, silent and stone-faced, in the corner of the bar. The glass of wine you had previously been sipping on now sat forgotten in front of you, stagnant and cold, as you stared blankly into space. Around you, laughter and chatter erupted, drunken cries of delight mixing with cheers and off-tune singing as people writhed and enjoyed themselves around you, but you blocked it all out.

You had never been more miserable or lonely in your life.

And your ‘friends’ (or, rather, college acquaintances), the ones who had convinced you to join them in the first place, apparently couldn’t care less. You scoffed quietly. Why should they? For hot, confident twenty-somethings, it wasn’t like they had any shortage of suitors. And it wasn’t their problem if one member of the group hadn’t said one word all night, let alone join in with the mingling.

‘Why don’t you stay with the bags, then?’ The nicest girl — which wasn’t saying much — had told you when you all first arrived, a sympathetic, pitying sort of expression on her pretty face as she noticed your hesitance to join the fun. Even with an undertone that would’ve typically irked you, you didn’t have it in yourself to argue, and you had since resigned yourself to the idea that it was the best you were going to get and that you should be grateful for it.

A sharp, shaky sigh left your lips, as you finally glanced down and checked your phone for what must have been the thousandth time that evening. 12:34. Pretending to be in your own world was a challenging task when self-consciousness and anxiety seeped into your mind with every pair of eyes that fell on you. It had only been a couple minutes since you last checked, and the thought only made you more stressed.

Deep, rowdy cheers erupted from somewhere behind you, and even though you had been trying to stay inconspicuous and keep out of the way of what was going on, they were so loud that you couldn’t help but turn your head to the source of the commotion.

You didn’t know why you bothered. It was just a drinking game — about ten men, sturdily build and wearing various military uniforms were playing a game of beer pong in a booth, and a man with a spiked Mohawk and gleaming eyes had just won. A crowd of women surrounded them, about half of them girls you had came here with, and they were all cheering like maniacs. Military men were always popular, here, you recalled, with the bar being so close to a few known bases. It helped that they were all pretty attractive, in their own ways.

Out of pure curiosity and a need to do something instead of just sitting there miserably, you allowed your gaze to travel over the group. Playing with, and having presently lost to, the Mohawk man was a young-ish Black guy who looked entirely wasted. On a large table behind them sat the rest. However, a man clad in skull balaclava at the head instantly made you uncomfortable, and you quickly averted your eyes to the other end.

Wrong move.

Immediately your gaze locked with the gentleman that sat on the opposite side of the table. His irises were a comforting shade of blue, framed with lashes you would die for, and you registered how he seemed distinctly older and calmer than the rest of them. Whilst the other men were acting like hysterics, the only thing that illustrated his amusement was how one corner of his mouth was twitched up in amusement, thick moustache quirking. He nursed a whisky in one large hand, and the other rested on his knee.

You weren’t even going to try and lie to yourself. He was absolutely too old for you, absolutely out of your league, and absolutely your type.

His head cocked to the side ever so slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. Even so, your unconscious admiration of the man instantly screeched to a halt as it happened, your neck snapping back over your shoulder, as you felt a flush come over your cheeks.

Fuck.

It was just your luck, wasn’t it? The one time you were genuinely interested in a man, and it was at a shitty bar with friends you didn’t even know the names whilst of having the worst time of your life.

“Just my luck…” You repeated sullenly, once again bringing your phone back out and preparing for another two hours of anxious scrolling.

Until a tap on your shoulder made you freeze.

“Fancy a refill, love?”

A heavy figure settled down on the stool beside you, and you didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. Somehow you knew instinctively, like it was already a reflex for your body to recognise this man whose existence you had been aware of for less than five minutes.

A sharp inhale. “I’m… sorry?” You choked. You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. You couldn’t even dare to look up. Maybe he wasn’t even talking to you.

“A refill. More alcohol. A little boost. Don’t mean to be rude, but you don’t look awfully thrilled right now.” His voice was deep, his British accent not overwhelming but pleasing to the ears.

You hesitated. “I’m… I’m okay, thank you.” Your eyes remained fixed on the table in front of you. Fuck…

The heat of his body shifted. He was looking directly at you, now, you could feel it — feel how his eyes roamed your body, zeroed in on your face, analysed you and truly noticed you. It made you shiver slightly. “You sure?”

“…I’m sure…” A lie.

You wanted nothing more in that moment than to be the kind of person who knew how to respond to this kind of interaction, but you weren’t, and it was killing you to turn down the only person in the bar who you wanted to talk to.

Basically… you didn’t know what to do. You quickly concluded after he remained silent for a few moments that he must have been joking — and if he wasn’t, then he’d undoubtedly go to find someone else to chat up after your quick rejection. Wouldn’t that do wonders for your already-pitiful self-confidence?

It seemed you had predicted correctly. Just then, he stood up, and you watched him out of the corner of your eye as he left your side made his way over to the bartender — just as one of your friends sidled up to him, a drunken expression of flirtatious delight on her face.

You couldn’t keep your heart from dropping, and your forehead to slam onto the table in front of you with a defeated groan as he left. It was stupid to get jealous when you had rejected his offer, you knew that, but… your chance. Your one chance.

God, did you hate yourself.

Letting your eyes linger on the man even after his departure didn’t help. Your friend had nuzzled up to his side like she was some sort of cat, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes and biting her lip, and you could tell that she was showering him with compliments from the way he nodded every few seconds with a polite smile. The only thing that made you feel better was that he didn’t seem to be reciprocating the interaction quite as eagerly as she was, but that very well may have just been your jealous imagination trying to calm yourself down.

A bartender approached him, and a few minutes later, the man was handed with another glass of whisky and a red wine. You fixated on the way your friend eyed the second drink delightedly.

To both of your surprise, however, the man took the two drinks from the counter, stood up…

And completely ignored your friend, who looked a little dismayed but quickly busied herself with another man nearby. He walked right back to sit down next to you again and slid the wine across the counter.

The gesture was clear. For you.

“I know you said you didn’t want it, but just in case,” the man rumbled. He seemed almost amused with your obvious inner panic. This time you met his gaze, eyes wide.

“I…” Was he serious? Were you actually getting a second chance at this? “I… Thank you.” You swallowed, so nervous that your throat felt like sandpaper, and you winced at the feeling.

The man chuckled. “No problem, love. Figured you may have just been shy. If you really want me to leave, I will, but somehow, I get the idea that that isn’t the case.” He gave you a crooked smile before taking a long sip of his whiskey, the warm amber liquid sloshing around in the glass appealingly.

You didn’t know how to reply to that, drenched in fear.

For some reason, at that, his smile widened. “What’s your name?” He asked suddenly, after setting his cup down with a soft clink.

You told him quietly, voice shaking.

“Hmm. I like that. I’m John. John Price.” He held out a calloused hand, and you were immediately aware of how big and sturdy it seemed, “Nice to meet you.”

After a moment of stunned silence, you took it, the warmth and thinly veiled strength that enveloped your palm sending small shivers down your spine — and for the first time that evening, you offered him a small smile of your own. “You too.” Even if this was some sort of sick joke, wasn’t it nice to pretend? And that was the worst-case scenario. Which meant there was a good chance he was being genuine. You didn’t want to raise your hopes all too high, though.

“Thanks again,” you said awkwardly, nodding to the glass in front of you and taking a small sip appreciatively. The wine slid down your throat, the alcohol boost immediately putting a happy fuzz in your mind.

“As I said, no problem at all.” John nursed his whisky, and your eyes flicked to how the muscles in his arm strained with the movement. “Having fun?”

You couldn’t help but scoff softly. “Does it look it it?”

John’s blue eyes twinkled. “Good point. What is it that’s got you so down, then? If it’s some bastard, I wouldn’t mind dealing with him for you outside.”

A small laugh of disbelief left your lips. “Oh. Good to know. But… no. It isn’t some bastard, though for some reason I kind of wish it were, because then at least I’d have something to blame.” You paused. “I don’t even really know what the problem is myself, to be honest. Just this place in general. I would’ve gone home a while ago, but my friends want to stay a bit longer and I think I’m the DD.” You stared at your wine. “That ship may have already sailed, though.” Great. Now, instead of being unable to form words, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. The magic of alcohol was a true wonder.

You were relived to find that John didn’t seem perturbed by the sudden spluttered paragraph. In fact, he seemed quite pleased, by the way the corners of those gorgeous eyes wrinkled kindly as he listened. “Don’t seem like very good friends, if they leave you alone like that and don’t even bother check on you.”

“They’re not even my friends. They’re just— I don’t know, acquaintances.” You paused, frowning, as a flush gradually spread across your cheeks as more alcohol flooded your system. “I don’t know a lot of things, apparently.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” John commented, raspy voice ever so slightly softer than it had been before.

“Agree to disagree,” you sighed.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence — and the realisation surprised you, because a few minutes ago the thought would have seemed crazy.

You began to speculate about him as the silence lengthened, both of you sipping your drinks quietly as chaos continued to rage around. How old was he? What did he do for a living? What was his relationship with the other men?

Why did he approach you?

“You work in the military, right?” You suddenly blurted out, unable to keep the endless swarm of questions contained in your fuzzy brain.

He nodded with yet another smile, before gesturing to the men behind you. “Correct. Captain John Price, at your service. I’m in charge of most of of these lot. The rest are strays, but I brought them along because it’s been quite a tough time for them all and they deserved a bit of a break.”

You blinked. “That’s… nice of you.”

The captain huffed a laugh. “Well, as I said, they can all be pricks, but they’re the most hardworking and loyal pricks I know. Here, let me show you. That one there…” He pointed directly at the man with the Mohawk who had first caught your attention, who was now lounging with an arm over the man who had lost’s shoulder and watching another match of beer pong. “Scotsman we call Soap. Troublemaker and demolitions expert.” John’s finger moved to the man who had lost. “Gaz. Ex-SAS. Skilled like hell, but has a hell of a temper.” Finally, his finger settled on the man with the skull balaclava who had instantly made you uncomfortable. You shivered just setting eyes on him again. “And that’s Ghost. All I’ll say is, not a man you want to mess with.” He didn’t need to tell you twice.

Maybe if you hadn’t been as drunk as you were, you would’ve been a little freaked out, but at present, you didn’t really care. You had to take a second to absorb the new information in, before musing, “I have to say, those are some odd names.”

“I don’t think they’d appreciate me giving out their real names to a stranger, pretty as she may be.”

Any form of response died in your throat, as a burst of heat spread through your body and raised goosebumps along your arms at his words. God, he was so attractive, and so sweet, and so attentive, and he smelled so good — like smoke and pinewood — that you just wanted to wrap yourself around him and bury your head in his chest and—

“You alright there, sweetheart?”

“I— huh?” You inhaled sharply as John brought you out of your momentary compliment-induced stupor. ‘Oh, yeah. Fine. Just fine. Amazing, actually.”

“That so?”

 You nodded earnestly, preparing to explain just how amazing you really were, when the movement caused you to lose you balance, and you swayed dangerously on your stool.

You squeaked, just as a large, warm palm spread across your shoulder and kept you in place. “You… are drunk,” John said carefully, his hand remaining on your shoulder for a second too long before he removed it. Not that you were complaining.

“Pretty drunk, yeah,” you agreed weakly, heart faltering at the mini heart attack you had just given yourself. You were definitely a lightweight.

“I’d say even more so than that, love. You sure you don’t want to start heading home?”

“But… my friends. I’m the DD…”

Price scoffed affectionately. “Don’t mean to assume, but you don’t seem too close with your friends, and you’re going to get pulled over the second you try to drive like this. Look, you want me to give you a ride home or something?”

“I…” You hesitated. It probably wasn’t a good idea to give a stranger your address — especially a military captain who couldn’t even tell you the names of his comrades — but you were just about out of money for the night and he was so attractive. “Would you?”

“‘Course. Promise not to murder you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he added, with a small quirk of his lips.

“…Reassuring.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Good to hear. Well, if you’re ready to go now… then c’mon, love, let’s get you home.”

Word Count: 2671

Stay tuned for the part two, and I’d love to hear your thoughts!

[serpentface]

I'm artblocked so Here's character sleeping positions + lore

(blankets omitted from the drawing where irrelevant. Assume characters use them unless otherwise specified)

Palo

Habitually sleeps on his back with his hands clasped.

Overheats easily and likes cooler temperatures, his blanket/cloak will often end up completely removed from his body over the course of the night.

Mild insomniac and a very light sleeper. Occasionally sleepwalks.

Smokes hideje (plant with mild sedative properties) as a sleep aid when he can get his hands on it

This seems to have a side effect of strange, disorienting dreams and occasional sleep paralysis.

Tigran:

Sleeps on his side

Needs to be entirely burritoed into his cloak/blanket regardless of the temperature, leaving a little gap near his face so he can breathe.

If it's hot he sticks his feet out for thermoregulatory purposes.

Sleeps soundly but tosses and turns constantly.

Has very frequent nightmares.

Hibrides:

Sleeps on her side

Needs to be hugging a pillow to feel comfortable.

Almost always ends up curled in a shrimp position in the middle of her bed.

Strongly dislikes sleeping (and generally Being) naked, wears old dresses as pajamas.

Likes when Hippeti (dog) sleeps near her bed, at least until he wakes up to loudly lick himself.

Snores.

Couya

Sleeps on her back.

Takes Odonii standard perpetual armament very seriously and keeps any weapons she is actively carrying next to her while sleeping.

Has very lengthy, vivid dreams.

Sleeps on a grass mat by choice even though she can absolutely afford a fabric bed. Doesn't like soft beds and kind of thinks people who do are pussies.

Has frequent back pain (especially in the mornings), which is surely unrelated.

Janeys

Sleeps on his back or side.

Would benefit tremendously from a weighted blanket. An arm works too.

Has a specific phallus amulet reserved specifically for sleeping (for protection against threats like nightmares, nocturnal emission, or other harm from evil spirits).

It apparently works because he doesn't get nightmares a lot and instead gets really, really weird stress dreams.

Frequently talks/yells in his sleep.

Will wither away and die if deprived of pillows or a down mat.

Brakul

Almost exclusively sleeps on his stomach.

Will be splayed out like a starfish if not physically restricted by the presence of another body.

Falls asleep easily and barely moves over the course of a night. Could sleep through an earthquake.

Rarely remembers his dreams.

(Both get cold easily and this scene would be hidden under a notably massive blanket with only their heads exposed in all but the hottest conditions)

FAIZA:

Falls asleep on her back but can end up in startlingly contorted poses.

Keeps the Odonii standard perpetual armament restricted to having her dagger nearby while asleep.

Doesn't really use pillows, considers a down bed more than enough.

Tosses and turns in her sleep, very frequently wakes up lying on the floor.

Sleepwalks on a fairly regular basis. One time she woke up going through the physical motions of giving a blessing (to a wall) and really didn't know how to feel about that.

Etsushir

Not only capable of sleeping like this, but actively prefers it. (This isn't an elowey-typical thing, it's distinctly unusual)

Quite adept in general at falling asleep in intensely uncomfortable looking positions and circumstances. He's just used to it.

Grinds his teeth in his sleep.

Doesn't usually use a blanket (fur provides enough warmth for most seasons anyway) but likes the physical comfort of sleeping in a cloak.

[saphiccarma]

- The Red Means I Love You

Relationships - Mob Boss!WandaNat x Reader

Summary - Your father had always been a little wacky, always paranoid. He died a few months ago and you moved into abadoned apartment, but you never thought that he would be involved in a mob.

Warnings: Kidnapping (?), maybe the slightest bit dark Nat? Nothing serious today

Wanda Maximoff was well known for her cruelty. She was known to be harsh and unforgiving, a woman of power who made no exceptions. Anyone who dared to utter her name did so with respect, a reverence that was reserved for one other person. Her wife, Natasha Romanoff. She was known for being stern. A woman who commanded her people with an iron fist and didn't let mistakes slide.

They were two of the most famous mob mosses there was, with a few exceptions, and very few dared to cross their paths. It had taken them years to build their regime, to gather trusted members, and now that they had it, they weren't letting anything get in their way. They weren't letting even the smallest mistakes go.

Not that you knew that. When you had moved into your father's old apartment after he died, you thought nothing of it. At the time you were still living with your mother, fresh out of college, and needed a place to live. You applied to work at a hospital nearby and after being accepted, you moved into your father's place. It was a shaggy old apartment. Each shelf had a thin layer of dust, and you swear that the smell of cigarettes was permanent.

Digging around a bit, you had found a gun stashed under the bed, which was odd, and a knife hidden in the kitchen. Your father always had been a bit paranoid. Always muttering about how they were going to get him. Your mother had called him crazy which led to their divorce, but they had shared custody, so you still heard parts of his ramblings.

Your cheeks were a soft shade of pink from the chill in the air as you walked home. The blue scrubs you wore swished and crinkled and the gravel crunched under your feet. It wasn't the smartest idea, to be walking home late at night, but your phone was dead and you didn't have a car. You had also forgotten your pepper spray. Internally cursing yourself, you took a right, straight down the sketchy looking alley that smelled of alcohol and smoke. Inhaling sharply, you carefully began to scurry down it.

Before you had barely gone five steps, there was dull thud that you hardly registered in the back of your head. The world spun for a short moment before everything went black.

^__________^

A coppery tang filled your mouth, coating your cheeks and gums. Blinking blearily, you swiped your tongue along your teeth, distinctly tasting blood. Your entire body ached, a heavy weight pressing down on you. There were ropes tied around your wrists, you noted when you tried to move, and similar ones around your feet. You were sat on a wooden chair, one that creaked when you struggled.

The ropes dug into your skin, burning it and making the situation all the more uncomfortable. A distinct prick stung the back of your eyes as you glanced around the dark room. Water dripped lazily from the ceiling, falling in a repetitive pattern onto the floor. It matched the humid air that drifted around. Sweat formed on the back of your back and you could fell a small droplet drip down.

But there was no light. You could only hear the droplets, and despite being in here for a few moments, your eyes refused to adjust further than allowing you to see a door and the chair you were in. Twisting once more, you tried to free yourself from the painful restraints, but to no avail. They remained snug around your wrists and ankles.

The door swung open and lights were flicked on. You squeezed your eyes shut; the brightness surprising you. Faintly you heard footsteps along the concrete floor, and you forced yourself to look. A woman stood in front of you. Her hair was fiery red, a color that accented her green eyes, and it rolled down to her shoulders in perfect waves. She regarded you cooly, a look in her eyes that promised pain, yet devoid of any emotion.

"Ms. Y/L/N," she said lowly, huskily even, "I've wanted to meet you."

You flinched back when her hand came up to your face. Tears welled in your eyes. Gently, the tips of her perfectly manicured nails tapped the side of your face, tracing your cheekbone down to your chin. Just when you thought she would pull away, her nails dug into the sides of your jawline as she gripped your jaw. The force was painful. A small whimper escaped you as you tried to pull away. Key word being tried.

"Do you know who I am? I doubt your father ever bothered to enlighten you." She twisted your head side to side, her forest green eyes scanning you up and down as if you were a science experiment. "He spoke fondly of you."

A shaky breath was exhaled from your lungs as you tried to formulate words, "Who- Who are you?"

"Natasha Romanoff, your father's former boss."

Then finally, just as you thought she would draw blood, her hand released your cheek. Flexing your jaw, you stared at her oddly. She wore black combat pants with a matching skintight long sleeve shirt. There was a gun holstered to her thigh. Some things were clicking into place, like the gun you had found stashed in the apartment, or the giant pile of money, but the full picture hadn't come in yet.

"You have no idea, do you?" She was crouched now, her eyes level to yours as she leaned forward, "Your father was in great debt. It was a shame he was killed." Although her face showed pity, the jutting of her lower lip and the sad glimmer in her eyes, her tone held none. "But since he's dead, that debt has fallen onto you."

"How much did he owe you?" your voice was barely steady. It cracked every other word and made the tears in your eyes all the more prominent.

A small, amused, laugh escaped her. You wished to believe it was genuine, but it sounded nothing of the sort, "Oh he didn't owe me money. No, he owed me something much more valuable. He owed me time. Servitude. But he died before that could be filled out. You, however, are still alive."

"And if I can't?" The words were whispered softly as you kept your gaze to the ground. You could hardly hear Natasha's breath, your own overshadowing it. All that was audible was your own breath and the sound of your heartbeat in your eyes.

"Do you care for your mother?"

Her question sent a jolt of fear through you, one that sparked your veins and made you snap your head up.

"Don't hurt her!" you pleaded, tugging at your restraints, "Please, she did nothing."

The smile on her face could have been called sinister, "Oh darling," Natasha's fingers reached for your face again, ignoring your flinch, and gently tracing the side of your cheek, "I don't plan to. As long as you comply."

"I don't- I don't know how to do any of this stuff," you mumbled. You didn't want to do any of this stuff. From what you had gathered, Natasha ran a mob. Mobs hurt people. You had become a nurse to help people, to heal - not to hurt.

"I'll teach you," she said softly. For the first time in your interaction, her features lost a bit of their edge. It was hardly noticeable, just her lips loosening their frown and her jaw unclenching slightly. Out of the corner of your tear-filled eyes you saw her draw a knife from her boot. A violent flinch ran through you as you tried to squirm away. "Stay still," Natasha chided.

She sliced through your binds, the knife dangerously close to your skin. You didn't dare to move as she rose from her crouch, not until she gestured for you to follow. Frantically, you stood from the chair, wombling a bit due to the fact that your legs were asleep, and scurred after her. She walked with a certain air of confidence, one that had the guard outside the door saluting - even if it seemed slightly playful. The place she led you through was surprisingly nice compared to the room you were held in. The walls were a dark color, one that you would picture in medieval times, and it smelled of fresh wood and whiskey. Just the slightest bit.

Everything was utterly silent as you followed Natasha, your breath loud and obnoxious even as you tried to quiet it. Fear coursed through you, sparking every bit of you to life. You were still dressed in your scrubs, the comfortable material still holding up, but being rather loud as you walked. Leading you up to a set of doors, Natasha pushed them open, and you were met with a large set of mats.

Black mats were laid on the floor, a perfect square. A couple boxing bags hung in the corner of the room, dangling from a set of chains. There were a few times when your father had tried to teach you boxing, but he never got it stick. You had always been driven to help people rather than hurt. Even if it was self-defense.

As Natasha stepped onto the mats, waiting for you to do the same, you realized what was happening. Oh- she was teaching you now. Like now now. If you were scared before, you knew you were scared now, especially based on the way her fingers flexed and she smirked with her chin tilted up. Hell no. The most you knew about boxing was the stance and that was about it. A jab and backhand punch, maybe, but it had been so long ago when you learned.

"Come on," she encouraged, her voice laced with faux sweetness, "Let's go."

The words forced you into action, stepping onto the mat hesitantly, and attempting to match the stance she slid into. Yours was undoubtedly sloppier and way worse, but you were going to lose this fight anyway - there was no winning this one. Before you could even attempt to gain your bearings, Natasha's fist was in your face, pressing hard into your nose.

You stumbled back, faintly tasting blood as it dripped down to your lips. Squeezing your eyes shut you hardly noticed Natasha moving forward and her leg sweeping beneath you. A harsh thump echoed through the room as you fell onto the mat. The air in your lungs was forced out as you sharply exhaled, and the back of your head pounded with a dull pain.

With a small groan, you opened your eyes, only to see a disappointed expression. Natasha had her arms crossed, a firm frown settled on her face and her brows slightly furrowed.

Her foot nudged your side, "Get up. Again."

The two of you went at it for hours after that.

^___________^

You’ve worked for Natasha for about half a year now. It had become a routine at that point. You stayed at the base like everyone and worked hard, laying low and trying to blend in. For some odd reason, Natasha had taken a special liking to you. At least, that's what Bucky told you. Bucky was one of Natasha's oldest acquaintances, one of her most trusted people, and he oversaw some of your training.

"She likes you," he mumbled under his breath. You, covered in sweat and maybe a couple of tears, shook your head as you sat on the bench, denying the statement entirely. Based on the fact that Natasha beat you up for what felt like the thousandth time that month, she most certainly did not like you.

Natasha came onto the base every day aside from Sunday and would spend two to three hours training you. Whether it was teaching you how to shoot, how to wield a knife, or simple hand to hand combat. It was exhausting, training with her for hours until your entire body was sore and aching and then doing the same the next day. Slowly, it became easier, starting with simple things until you could feel the difference. Maybe you didn't sweat as much, or you didn't need to take long breaks, until you started noticing that you held up against Natasha longer than usual.

It still wasn't enough, based on the way she was perched atop you, her legs straddling your hips. Her arms were right by your head, muscular and firm, breath just the slightest bit heavy. You thought she looked beautiful. There was the slightest sheen of sweat coating her forehead, and a few loose curls that fell from her braid, framing her face perfectly. Her green eyes sparkled with amusement.

Natasha leaned down, her lips, perfect and soft, were ever closer to yours. Your heart skipped a bit as your lashes fluttered. That was another thing - you had a crush on Natasha. As childish as it sounded, you really did. The only thing stopping you was the fact that she had a wife. You had never met Wanda, but people spoke her name with reverence, always watching the way they spoke.

On the other hand, Natasha almost never spoke of her, just fleeting mentions to other people. It was the one thing that held you back from trying to go after Natasha. Well, that and the fact that Natasha was downright terrifying, and if you got rejected you weren't sure if you could stand it.

Before you had the chance to think about it more, to even consider pressing your lips onto hers, Natasha did it for you. Her lips, soft and gentle, pressed down on yours. For the briefest moment you were shocked, merely melting into her touch. It felt heavenly, to finally kiss her, and as her tongue pushed into your mouth, you tasted strawberries.

Then, just as Natasha tried to deepen it further, you pushed her off, staring at her with confused eyes. She was married, she had a wife who, supposedly, she loved very much. But the mob boss was only smirking at you, lips curling upward and her tongue flicking out to lick them. The sight sent a shiver down your spine and heat up your cheeks.

"Your- Your married," you murmured, the words breathy and light.

Natasha reached her hand out, brushing a hair away from your face, "I know. She knows." It was the most tender you had ever seen her, different from the harsh and cruel side. You liked it. "She wants to meet you. Wanda wants to meet the girl that captured my attention."

You were too surprised to form a response, merely sputtering as Natasha smirked down at you. Her wife was okay with it? Faintly you realized that meant Natasha talked about you, but that wasn't the main focus. Mainly, Natasha was okay to have a relationship with you. Well, you couldn't call it a relationship yet, she could just be wanting to fuck you. It was probably the latter.

"What-" you cleared your throat, gently pushing her off you and sitting up, "Would we be in a relationship? Or am I just a fuck toy?" Your harsh vocabulary drew a surprised laugh out of Natasha, and she threw her head back just the slightest bit to expose her neck.

"No, you would not be a fuck toy. Otherwise, Wanda wouldn't want to meet you."

Her words soothed the anxiety that had begun to bubble in your stomach. The last thing you wanted to be was just a toy she played with, something she used to release her frustrations. You didn't want to just become an object.

Natasha grinned at your baffled look, her smirk dimming, "Before you meet her though, you have your first job."

^__________^

It's meant to be simple. Natasha is meeting with an opposing mafia, one that had been her rival for a long while. You weren't meant to just stand there and look intimidating. In all honestly, you were the worst person to pick, maybe aside from Kate. But Yelena, Bucky, Clint and even Steve were all much more intimidating. Whether it was because they had a glare that could cut through the harshest materials or because the mere sight of them sent shivers down someone's spine. You were genuinely afraid to approach Steve when you first met him until you found out he was just a big teddy bear.

Even though you were perhaps the worst option, Natasha had chosen to bring you and Bucky. It may have been odd to you, but Bucky just rolled with it, driving the three of you to the venue. You fiddled with the gun strapped to your thigh. The safety was off already, so that you could just pull it out of the holster and shoot. You were still scared you would shoot yourself in the foot.

The pants you wore were tight against your legs along with the shirt, both perfectly outlining your frame. It made you slightly uncomfortable, however Natasha insisted you wear this and she was your boss, so you went with it. The car, a sleek black stingray, pulled into an empty parking lot, its tires crunching on the gravel.

You exited the car, closing the door softly, and inhaling the night air. It had been a few months since you went outside. The opportunity presented itself, but you never found the time. Either that or you were too tired to muster the energy. But now you realized that you had missed it. A cool breeze ruffling your hair and tainting your cheeks and tips of your ears a soft pink. The firm feeling of the ground beneath you.

An owl hooted above you, alerting you to its presence, and you glanced up to see it soaring in the sky. Your gaze traveled to the moon, which was still low in the sky, but high enough to shine a blue light down on you. Its dim light allowed the stars to shine, even if they were dimmed by the cities lights. Bucky's footsteps crackled the gravel as he stepped out of the car.

"You like the stars doll?" his Brooklyn accent slipped through as he said the pet name. He called nearly everyone that so you didn't think much of it, it just seemed to be his way of showing affection.

"Focus up," Natasha snapped, a whole new personality on her now. She was harsh and cruel before, but now it was different. There wasn't the slightest bit of softness in her features, no little hints that she cared for either of you.

She was also wearing a new attire, although similar to when you first met her. Sleek black pants and a long sleeve shirt that had gloves attached to it. The pants perfectly fit her frame, and you would be lying if you said they didn't show off her ass a bit and you didn't enjoy it. Her skintight shirt allowed you and everyone to see the muscles in her arms as she moved, each one flexing. It was a little hot, you weren't going to lie.

A car skidded into the gravel lot, its tires screeching and steam billowing out of the back. It was a sleek sports car that shimmered under the moonlight and a duplicate followed it, albeit a bit slower. Out of it stepped a man.

He had sunglass perched atop his nose, tinted glass perfectly obscuring his eyes. A goatee coated his lower face, the scruffy hair not prominent, but noticeable all the same. He wore a fine suit that looked like it fit him and his air of confidence.

"Romanoff!" He cheered, his voice arrogant and flamboyant, "It's nice to see you again." Although you hadn't known this man for long, you could tell that it was fake. His arms spread out as if going for a hug, but he dropped them before even getting close. Behind him stood a dark-skinned man who wore a suit and had his hands folded in front of him. There was a young boy who had brown fluffy hair and wide brown. The man whistled lowly, "I see you've got a new...thing." He said the word with intent, wiggling his brows suggestively.

You tried not to visibly recoil, even if the words reminded you that Natasha could just be using you.

"Stark," Natasha's voice held a warning, one that promised pain, "We're here to discuss business."

Stark waved his hand with a scoff, pulling his glasses down to make eye contact, "I don't have your money Romanoff. I don't owe you any."

"You blew up one of my buildings," she snarled. Her tone sent a shiver down your spine. In all honestly you had no idea how Stark didn't crumble right then and there, Natasha was scary when she wanted to be.

"On accident, and I didn't even do it - it was an acquaintance."

Natasha scoffed, "Oh please. You hired Danvers to do it. Listen, Stark - I'm giving you until the end of the month, 30 days, to get me the money for blowing up the building."

The man had a deep scowl on his face as his eyes bore into Natasha. They briefly flickered over to you, his brown eyes tracing your face and your features. You felt a bit self-conscious, the suit you were wearing was particularly tight and framed every bit of you. Then, he smirked, his gaze going back to Natasha.

Tipping his head slightly in goodbye, Stark spun around, heading towards his car while the other two went to their own. The three of you stood there until they left, and only then did you see Natasha soften.

"I hate him," she grumbled, marching towards the car.

Bucky started the engine as you climbed in, "I know," he soothed, "It'll be over soon."

Natasha sighed, the sound heavy and laced with annoyance. She turned to face you sitting in the back, the slightest smirk on her face, "Ready to meet Wanda?"

[too-much-tma-stuff]

In the Light of Day (part 9)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

In the two weeks since the raid on the GIW base Jason and Danny had been receiving regular updates from Tim about how Ellie was doing with the Teen Titans. She seemed like she was settling in well, and recovering from everything that she had been through slowly but surely. In a way Danny was really glad she hadn’t been entirely stable, the GIW hadn’t been able to do much to her before she started destabilizing. It was bad enough of course, and she had plenty of lingering trauma, but she hadn’t been broken in the same way he had. She hadn’t reached out yet, but just knowing that she was out there and she was okay soothed his broken edges tremendously. 

She was getting along well with Superboy, they were supporting each other well and Superboy had taken on an almost brotherly role with her. She was getting into chaos with Impulse, and generally… having a good time. Danny had even seen some pictures of her which had made him cry again while Jason held him.

Tim had also used a secure line to ask Danny some clarifying questions about the information on the USB he’d given him. Danny had been as open about everything as he could without sending himself into a panic, and didn’t hear back from Tim for a few more days before he suddenly showed up in crime alley one night dressed as Robin. 

“Your family has a habit of unscheduled visits huh?” Danny commented to Jason over the coms as he headed to intercept Tim. Jason couldn’t do it because was finishing up his work, and waiting to hear what Tim wanted to see if he actually needed to leave early or not.

“Ya,” Jason agreed with a slightly sheepish laugh. “Boundaries are not something this family has ever been good at. We can try to enforce them more if it’s bothering you?”

“No, that’s alright. I’m glad you have a better relationship with them now and I like them well enough too,” Danny assured before launching himself off one rooftop, flying across the gap between buildings and half tackling Tim making him yelp. They rolled across the roof as Danny gave a play growl and Tim grappled with him for a few moments. 

It had spooked Tim the first time Danny had done this, because he thought Danny was actually mad at him, but now he understood that it was just in play. Indulging it made Danny happy so Tim didn’t really mind, it was part of the way he bonded apparently. If Danny was actually mad Tim didn’t like his chances honestly.

“So, what do you need?” Danny asked once Tim had tapped out (he rarely won these little wrestles, and when he did it felt distinctly like Danny had let him win).

“I want to talk to you and Red Hood about something serious,” Robin told Danny with a little frown. “Do you have time tonight, or I can come back later.”

“Hood? Can you get away tonight?” Danny asked, tapping into the com.

“Ya, give me an hour. Take the baby bird home and put the kettle on, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Jason confirmed. Danny passed the message along and Tim nodded distractedly, following Danny home and accepting a cup of tea which he didn’t actually drink.

He was quiet as they waited for Jason to get home. Tim had a way of sitting unnervingly still in moments like this, it was almost like he was on pause. He didn’t start moving again until Jason arrived and had been handed a fresh cup of tea by Danny. 

“So, what did you want to talk about Tim?” Jason asked and Tim unpaused with a blink and a little shake. 

“I’m working on a presentation for the Justice League about the atrocities committed by the GIW and the anti-ecto acts that enable them,” Tim said bluntly. 

Jason put down his mug abruptly with a clatter and Danny let out a startled snarl. They shared a look of concern and suspicion and then looked back at Tim. They were willing to hear him out, even if it was an uncomfortable topic.

“I would appreciate it if you would look over the presentation, or maybe let me practice it on you, before I give it to them to make sure it’s accurate and respectful. I would also consider it a personal favour if you would come to the meeting yourselves, as representatives of the people who’ve been affected by these laws. Obviously, you don’t have to, but Ellie already agreed to come with us and I thought you might want to be there for her.” 

“I’ll go,” Danny said immediately. He hadn’t wanted to, but if Ellie was going then he wasn’t going to leave her to face this alone. She was a very brave and capable girl, but she was technically only about five years old, and Vlad hadn’t exactly done a perfect job cloning her so her knowledge and capabilities could be... patchy. He wasn’t going to leave her to face this alone, even if going to this meeting and facing the Justice League was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Well, I guess if he’s going I have to too,” Jason sighed begrudgingly with a shrug. “You and Big Wing will be there?” Jason asked Tim, who nodded. “Good, where will the meeting take place?” 

“Probably the Watchtower,” Tim admitted with a little shrug. 

“Is that the one that’s in space?” Danny demanded excitedly. The abrupt change of tone took Tim off guard but he nodded. “Awesome! Are there observation rooms? If there are, I demand time there if we’re going to see! I want to see SPACE!” 

Tim gaped at Danny a little and Jason laughed fondly. Danny seemed to realize he’d gotten a little too excited and blushed a little, smiling sheepishly at them. 

“Sure, I can probably arrange that,” Tim agreed with a little shrug. 

“Great, let us know as soon as you have a date for that. I want as much time as possible to prepare for it, and I refuse to agree to anything besides a non-aggression pact beforehand,” Jason told Tim firmly who just nodded absently. 

“Ya no worries, you don’t have to agree to anything, Dick and I are planning to smuggle you both in anyway,” Tim said, nodding absently. 

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission?” Jason asked with a snort of amusement. Tim gave him a conspiratorial smirk and nodded, making Jason laugh properly. “You know, if you’d lead with the fact this would piss off Bruce I would have agreed right away,” Jason joked and Danny cackled.

“But that’s not the purpose, that’s just a bonus,” Tim said with an impish smile.

“I like you kid. Ya, we’ll be there to support you,” Jason confirmed without hesitation this time.

----------

Danny had corrected a few things in Tim’s presentation for him, mostly about ghosts, or ecto-entity’s, behaviour and culture. He obviously wasn’t telling Tim everything that he knew, but it was enough that if the Justice League came into contact with them through all this they wouldn’t cause terrible offense or get themselves killed. Tim questioned how Danny knew all this but he had just given an enigmatic smile and refused to answer the questions. Tim had sighed and accepted the secrecy, hoping he could get Ellie to tell him later.

Only once both Elie and Danny had approved the presentation did Tim go ahead with requesting a meeting with the full JL about something urgent, but not so urgent it couldn’t be worked into peoples schedules in a week or so. As soon as he knew when it would be (Thursday at 3 pm) Tim told Jason and Danny, just like they’d asked.

They found out that knowing was a double edged sword. On one hand it was more time to prepare, on the other it was more time to panic, and Jason could tell Danny was panicking. Jason wasn’t looking forward to it either, but he was not freaking out the way that Danny was, so he set his own nerves aside and focused on helping his boyfriend. Including calming him down from three panic attacks! 

Jason was fairly used to Danny’s panic attacks, and knew they ranged from sobbing, trembling breakdowns to violent outbursts. His outbursts were more controlled then Jason’s at least, he would hate to see what true pit madness would look like with Danny’s power. Just the taste from facing the GIW was more than enough.

Jason had learned how to deal with all of Danny’s episodes over the course of their relationship, but three in a week was more than he’d ever seen Danny have and Jason didn’t know how to help. He knew how to get Danny through his panic attacks themselves of course, but he had no idea what to say to actually make Danny feel better and stop having panic attacks. It seemed like this was something they just needed to weather, though Jason wasn’t happy about it.

He understood completely why Danny was scared of course. He was going to have to face a lot of traumas in this, and ones he couldn't just smash, kill, and blow up like the GIW, complicated ones. At least they wouldn’t be alone, and being reminded Dick, Tim, and Ellie would be there to back them up if needed did seem to make Danny feel a little better at least. 

The night before the meeting they were laying in bed together with Jason half sprawled on top of Danny like a weighted blanket. Jason had bought him an actual weighted blanket, but he still preferred Jason when he was available. Maybe because Danny produced very little body heat on his own and Jason was a walking furnace, but probably just because he loved Jason. 

“So, are you ready for tomorrow?” Jason murmured, nuzzling into Danny’s neck and breathing in his scent, like freshly fallen snow and lighting infused air. 

“No, but I’ll manage,” Danny sighed back, carding his fingers through Jason’s hair. 

“Is there anything I need to know before the meeting?” 

“Maybe,” Danny conceded. He didn’t continue right away so Jason stayed quiet, giving Danny the time he needed to arrange his thoughts before sharing them. “I don’t think it will come up, but just in case… I’m technically the crown prince of the Infinite Realms.” He sounded almost sheepish. 

It took Jason a moment to process what Danny had said and then he sat up abruptly, looking down at Danny in disbelief. He gave Jason a nervous smile, looking a little ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, what?” Jason tried not to snap at Danny, he winced anyway.

“Ya, the crown of the Infinite Realms is passed through Trial by Combat. The previous king Pariah is an asshole who was bound in the coffin of Forever Sleep ages ago, but all the ancients had to work together to do it so they couldn’t actually take the crown. Since it has to be single combat, you know? When I was 16 my late bastard of a godfather released Pariah from the coffin and I defeated him one on one. I escaped taking the crown by a technicality because I forced him back into the coffin instead of ending him, but everyone expects that when I’m older and more stable I’ll go back and defeat him properly and take the crown.

“Like, there’s a prophecy about it, that the true king would be a halfa? That’s why Pariah killed them all in the first place. I’m not king technically, but plenty of ghosts already swear loyalty to me whether I want them to or not.” Danny looked sad, and scared, Jason took pity on him and lay back down with him, pulling him close. 

“You don’t have to be king then, right?” Jason questioned, since it was obvious Danny didn’t want this. “You still have a choice.”

“Not really,” Danny admitted with a sigh, looking away. “Someone will let Pariah out of his coffin again eventually, and when he does I’ll be the only one able to defeat him. So when that time comes my options will be to beat him myself or let him take over the world again. I guess I could force him back into the coffin again to try and delay it further, but the Council would probably start getting antsy and let him out themselves to try and force the issue and I’d still only be delaying the inevitable. It’s very unlikely that anyone as strong as me will come along in the next… millennia.”

“Damn…” Jason breathed, turning that over in his head for a moment before he let out an incredulous little laugh. “Well that’s one hell of a trump card to have in your back pocket if anyone tries to give you trouble. I mean you probably have diplomatic immunity or some shit.” 

The comment startled a laugh out of Danny as well. “Ya, I guess so! I hadn’t thought about that. Well, I still won’t say anything if I can help it but I guess that’s a card I can keep up my sleeve if we need it,” Danny allowed with a half smile. 

“I know you said you’re not ready for the meeting, but I know that you are. It’s going to be hard, but you are ready, and I’ll be there with you. You can do this for us, can’t you?” Jason asked, knowing that Danny was more inclined to push through if he wasn’t just doing something for himself. 

“Ya, I can do that,” Danny promised, nuzzling into Jason’s hair. He seemed more relaxed now thankfully. 

“Good, now get some sleep,” Jason directed and smiled a little when Danny snuggled closer and closed his slightly luminescent blue eyes. “Sweet dreams Moonlight, I love you.”

“You got it Boss. I love you too,” Danny sighed contentedly.

The next morning was an early one for them. Mostly because once they woke up neither of them could get back to sleep, so even though they hadn’t gone to bed until almost 2 am (thank you vigilante schedule) they were both up by seven. Brewing strong coffee in the kitchen and making scrambled eggs and toast since Jason couldn’t be bothered with anything fancy. 

With several hours till the meeting and nothing to do, they settled for rewatching some of their favourite movies and comfort eating some junk food. It was too early to go out and cause any real mayhem anyway. Finally it was time to suit up and go meet Dick and Tim so they could smuggle Red Hood and Hyena into The Watchtower. It was easy enough, Batman had gone in early and Hood already knew exactly where the Batcave was, so they just met up there and used the zeta-tube.

It had been a long time since Jason had been on one of those things and Danny never had, so they approached it with some trepidation. Danny in particular was eyeing the machine with wariness bordering on fear. Jason heard him mutter; “Cool, ya, I’ll just get into the giant metal tube, as if that didn’t kill me last time,” so he could guess the zeta-tube resembled whatever had killed him before, good to know. 

Dick went first, cheerfully saying it was to make sure the coast was clear, though Jason suspected it was really because he had noticed Hyena’s nerves and wanted to prove it was safe. Once he’d texted Tim that everything was fine Jason grabbed Danny’s hand and walked with him into the tube confidently. Danny was reluctant, but he let Jason tug him along, and since he could have easily stopped them both, that was good enough consent.

Jason felt a familiar swoop in his just as they were swept away in the beam, and caught Danny when their feet hit the floor again and he stumbled. “See? Not dead,” Jason joked to his partner as he held Danny close, feeling his slight trembling subside quickly. 

“Are you sure?” Danny joked weakly, looking a little paler than usual. 

“You’re not going to be sick are you?” Jason asked worriedly. 

Danny took a deep breath and shook his head; “No, I’ll be fine.”

“Good, then let’s get out of the way so Robin can Zeta in,” Jason promoted. 

Reminded that they were still in the tube Danny practically dragged Jason out. To his surprise it wasn’t just Nightwing waiting for them, but all of the Teen Titans, including their newest member. 

“Little Star,” Danny breathed, his eyes wide above his mask. Phantasm looked shy, shifting from foot to foot with barely contained nervous energy. Danny smiled behind his mask and lifted his arms, which she threw herself into immediately, clinging desperately to her template. Danny hugged her back just as tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he clutched her to his chest.

“Why didn’t you come to visit me? I missed you,” Phantasm questioned tearfully. 

“I missed you too, I just wasn’t sure you’d want to know me like I am now,” Danny explained softly. 

“Of course I do! We’re family,” Ellie said, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Then you’re always welcome where I am Starlight. I still can’t take care of you properly, and I think you should stay with them. But come visit me whenever you want, whatever you need,” Danny promised her gently.

“I will,” Phantasm agreed, finally letting go of Danny so she could wipe the tears from her face, sniffling a little. “I know you can’t have me stay with you right now. I can feel…” She trailed off, glancing around them, remembering they had an audience and reconsidering what she was going to say. Danny appreciated that since he was pretty sure she was about to bring up his cracked core. “I know you have a lot of healing to do too, so you can’t be worrying about me all the time.” 

“I’ll always worry about you, Phantasm, you’re basically my daughter,” Danny laughed, and let her lightly wack his arm for it. “I just can’t… support you right now.”

“I understand, it’s okay,” Phantasm reassured him with a sad little smile. 

“Great, are you guys ready for the meeting now?” Tim butted in a little callously, earning a glare from Dick. “We’re a bit late so everyone else should be there by now.” 

“Sure, let’s do this,” Danny agreed, grabbing Jason’s hand again tightly. "It's time to get all this shit out in the light of day."

[seiya-starsniper]

SNIPPET - Dreamling Bingo (Robin Hood AU Retired Dream)

For @dreamlingbingo Square A3 - replacing Robin Hood AU with the Adoptable Prompt: Retired Dream

Snippet itself is rated General, actual fic will be Explicit

other snippets under the tag #retired dream is a fuckboy wip

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

“Before we go on,” Hob says, trying his best to get some blood back into his brain and out of his cock, “We need to set some rules.” 

Murphy, predictably, frowns in confusion. 

“Are you referring to play rules?” he asks. 

“Not quite,” Hob answers. “I mean rules for how things are going to be, after we have sex.”

This time, Murphy outright grimaces and sighs in frustration. The sour look on his face tells Hob he knows where this conversation is going. 

“Humans have such complex feelings about sex,” he complains. 

“And you didn’t before?” Hob shoots back.  “Mr. ‘I sent a woman to hell because she had regrets about being with me?’”

“That was—” Murphy wrinkles his nose and grimaces. Oh, Hob knew all about Murphy’s past relationships, at least, the ones while he was still Endless, and how poorly those had ended.

“Was—?” Hob asks, letting the question hang between them. Murphy may have been able to get away with not communicating clearly when he was still inhuman, but that sort of thing didn’t work in his new existence.

“I was different then,” Murphy says after a brief silence. “Everything was so much…more intense. My loneliness, my responsibilities, my entire existence.”

“And now?” Hob asks. 

“Now,” Murphy replies, sticking his tongue out playfully and shrugging. “Now I can just focus on my pleasure. My wants. My needs. And the world would not end for it.” Hob snorts and rolls his eyes fondly.

“Sure, sure,” he says with an easy smile. “Far be it from me to disagree with a fun time. But you and I both know that doesn’t mean you’re not breaking hearts along the way while you’re finding yourself.” 

Murphy’s face twists in discomfort, and Hob knows he’s plucked a sensitive string. He wonders just how many hearts Murphy has broken since becoming human. He feels kind of bad for them, really. Murphy was so pretty and so emotional. There’s probably a few songs about him out there in the world if Hob had to guess. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Murphy finally acquiesces with a sigh. “Just because I am no longer directly tangled with the collective unconsciousness does not mean I am not affecting others. It is just…different.” He looks distinctly uncomfortable now, like he’s expecting some sort of judgment from Hob about his behavior. But Hob knows better than to throw stones in glass houses. Part of the reason he’d even wanted to live forever was so that he could bed as many women as he wanted. And men too, once he realized he enjoyed their company as well. 

“You remember what I said when I first set you loose on the world?” Hob asks, more gently this time. Murphy tilts his head, thinking, and isn’t that a sight? His friend has to actually struggle to remember things now. 

“You said,” Murphy replies then pauses. Then his eyes widen. “You said that I should treat others how I would wish to be treated myself.”

Hob smiles. “Golden Rule of living forever,” he replies. 

Murphy snorts. “And how would you wish for me to treat you then?” 

“Not like a one-night stand, for one thing,” Hob replies easily, stepping closer into Murphy’s personal space. “I’m your friend, not some fling you pick up at a club.” He reaches a hand to caress Murphy’s face. “So you communicate with me all your needs, or we don’t do this, okay?” 

Murphy inhales sharply and sways into Hob’s touch. “Yes,” he replies, eyes fluttering.

[orions-choker]

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Serial Killers, Murder, Obsessions, Yandere tendencies, Gore, more to be added.

Chapter Twelve

A/N: Hoooh boy were winding down to the end, I think I have two more chapters for you guys after this <3 Hope you enjoy.

Settling into the fact that she knew was an uncomfortable feeling. The room had been devoid of their voices for hours. She already knew she was wrong for having stayed. Her knees curled up to her chin as her eyes stayed steady on Kirk’s figure. His hands were busy tracing along his guitar, plucking away mindlessly. Still, she thought about those pretty lean hands wrapped around the rough handle of his kitchen blade instead. It was dizzying the way he was so easy and lazy about continuing through the motions. Like the previous conversation hadn’t even happened he smiled at her sweetly when he caught her staring at him. He shifted his body weight, readjusting the body of the guitar where it rested on his bent leg. He parted his lips to speak before deciding against it. She was thankful for that. The silence between them was the only thing stopping her from going on another insane psychobabble rant. He was good at guitar, she had known that from the first day she had been in his room. She missed that day, things had been so easy. The moment she had settled into his room to listen to that record with him, watching him learn each riff. He had been so sweet and dorky and god he still looked like that boy. Yet distinctly she remembered the uneasy feeling that had settled over her skin the entire time. Her body had been screaming at her this whole time that she was in danger and she hadn’t listened, god why had she not listened. Now she couldn’t appreciate his skills the way she wanted to. Looming at the back of her mind was that night at the bar that he had played. The dripping heard in the alley, the strong metallic scent in the air so thick she could still taste it. How he had crept up behind her, the way his arms curled around her and his hand heavy over his mouth as he muffled her scream. Maybe he had been trying to kill her then…no, no he hadn’t. That had been his last victim, she was pretty sure anyways, no other bodies had turned up after that and she was positive he was killed with the intent of them being found.

“How long had she been dead when I went outside that night?” She asked in a small whisper, a little afraid to know the answer but mostly curious. Had his hands just been freshly scrubbed of the blood coating them? Maybe if she had braved the dark just a bit more she would have found the girl, would she have been in a state to be saved if she had? The what ifs and the guilt ricocheted off the confines of her mind. She wanted to puke. Kirk’s hands paused, his brows furrowed in confusion. She watched, able to see the way he combed through his thoughts like a sick filing system of every crime he committed, trying to remember what she was talking about. It stuck out so vividly to her but for him it had been another fucking Monday. Finally she watched his dark eyes brighten slightly. “Oh,” He mumbled, his fingers pausing against the thick strings they pressed against. “Awhile,” He nodded. He frowned, it wasn’t guilt over the crime he felt, just guilt over the way she was feeling. Y/N was thankful he didn’t go into any more detail than that. It eased her guilt ever so slightly, enough for her to breathe again. At Least she knew she couldn’t have saved that girl. God what the fuck is wrong with you? Her face scrunched up, lips curled into a deep frown as she mentally berated herself for that line of thinking. “You’re disgusting.” She mumbled. “I know,” Kirk sighed, it felt like he was almost annoyed with the conversation. She could feel the anxious energy in him, he wanted to get over this already, pretend like it didn’t exist. As if the revelation wasn't that he was a murderer. How could a boy so anxious and nervous like this be capable of taking innocent life. God she just couldn’t wrap her head around it. Like if she continued to question everything she knew she could find an answer. There was no answer though, no justification. Maybe she just needed to give it up. Absently she rubbed her hands along her still bare thighs, digging her nails into fresh bite marks he had left in her skin. The feeling that he wanted to genuinely eat her alive had never faded, now it only felt more real. It was like being close wasn't enough, needed her inside him to feel whole.  There were no signs on any of the victims of consumption. That was a desire unique to her, and it made her warm with a sick sense of pride. “If you killed me would it be different, would you treat me any differently?” She asked with a disgusting curiosity. Kirk looked at her like she had hit him. The way his mouth dropped open in disgust like what she had just said was worse than anything he had ever done. “I already said I will never hurt you.” He emphasized. His knuckles went white as he gripped the neck of his guitar. Her eyes glazed over slightly as she trained her gaze on the veins threatening to burst from his skin, the strain of his knuckles, that's what his hands would look like around his throat. “What the fuck is wrong with you.” The snap of his voice made her frown and flinch. There was that unmistakable look on his face, that so quickly switched from doe-eyed and needy to burning anger. From prey to predator. “It's a hypothetical.” She defended herself. It sounded like domestic bickering, not even a full blown fight. “I just want-” She paused and swallowed the words. I want to feel special. 

“For someone so disgusted by me you sure are interested to know every detail.” He hummed, callously calling her out. He was right. He pouted at her, face going all soft and gentle again. “I don’t want to talk about it, I don't want to think about you getting hurt, I love you.” He insisted and placed his guitar back on the stand as he got up. He hadn’t crossed the invisible line she had drawn across the room in hours and a weird sense of relief washed through her when he got close again. She sat up on her knees as he approached the bed. Her arms wrapped around his neck in a soft hug. “I know you do.” She whispered, it was the only thing she did know. He loved her in every fucked up twisted way he was capable of.  She hummed when he wrapped his arms in turn around her waist and crushed her against him. So, so warm. “I love you too,” That was getting easier to say without the crushing feeling of shame. “What happens if they catch you?” Gentle patterns were drawn across her skin as he pushed his face deep into her neck. He was soothing her, pressing butterfly-light kisses into her like silent promises. “They won’t.” She blinked open her eyes to look behind him out the window, a gentle coating of burnt orange blanketed the room. The late summer sunset finally settled over them and with it came the new comfort of night, they could be hidden under the dim lighting of the stars. “I promise, I made sure nothing could ever pry me away from you.” His grip tightened, briefly painful before relaxing again. How could he be so sure of that? He wasn’t actually spectacular at hiding it considering… “I figured it out and I’m no detective.” She whispered. She half expected him to flip the switch again, his sweet voice to go all shrill and harsh again as he snapped at her. Instead, he laughed. The warm innocent laugh she loved, boyish and untainted by his sins.

“I wanted you to figure it out.” He pulled away from her neck to look at her again. Rubbing his thumbs just beneath her eyes to coax her into opening them. Angelic. The word repeated in her head every time she looked at him. This wasn’t a monster, couldn’t be. Purposefully she deluded herself. “I never want to keep anything from you, you know that right?” He pressed a gentle kiss against her hairline. “We’re partners, no lies.” Partner . The word instantly curdled her stomach. Partner implied she helped, that she willingly complied with him. It was the cold water of reality that finally washed over her. Her eyes snapped back into the focus she hadn’t realized she had lost. The room wasn’t warm, his hands felt cold and painful, and standing before her was a pretty boy with a fucked up empty look in his eyes. Sick, she was going to be sick. All the color drained from her face and she scrambled to get his hands off her before pushing off the bed and skidding into the bathroom across the hall. Hunched over the porcelain she could hear the sickly concern in Kirk’s voice as he gathered her hair back away from her face. His hand rubbing across her shoulders did nothing to comfort her. He loved her, that much was clear. She loved him but that couldn’t scrub away how wrong it was. She had to be better than this, she couldn’t be selfish. She wouldn’t be his partner. When she finished she sat back on her heels, tears brimming the corners of her eyes. “Sorry,” She mumbled thick and watery. “I think it’s just been too much stress from everything.” She lied. Kirk nodded as he leaned down next to her. His hold on her did nothing to remove the cold that was seeping into her from the bathroom tiles beneath her bare legs. He was shushing her, hands gently running over her hair, smoothing it away from her clammy face. “Yeah I bet,” He whispered in all his faux loving concern. “Just relax, okay, let's stop talking about this, I’ll put on a movie.” He offered. It was like he was comforting her from a bad day and not the revelation her boyfriend was a serial killer. She supposed that was a bad day, the worst actually. 

“Yeah, that, that sounds nice I'm sorry I-” Y/N swallowed hard. She could play this off, just to the end of the weekend. She had been doing fine before, just needed to make it through. “Sorry I need to brush my teeth.” She let out a weak laugh as Kirk gathered her crumpled form off the floor. Leaning all her weight against the counter, her body still weak from upheaving everything inside her. Kirk grabbed the toothbrush that she had left here, sitting delicately in the holder beside his, and loaded it for her. He held her upright with all the gentleness of a good boyfriend as she scrubbed her mouth clean from the acidic taste until all that remained was mint that could convince herself she was clean. 

He doted on her, unaware, blissfully so. Gentle hands, fresh water, soothing words whispered in her ear. This time she didn’t allow herself to get lost in it. Didn’t dwell on the what-ifs and the thoughts about all the potential they could have had. How they really could have been perfect. She played her role well, a better actor than she had been before. Let him fuck her slow and gentle when she felt better, everything she needed to do to sell her position, her compliance. No matter how filthy and rotted it made her feel. It didn’t feel selfish anymore, it was selfless. She was the sacrificial lamb to end more slaughters. If she did this, pulled it off, she could bring true justice. Not the rage induced self inflicted justice she had weighed in her mind at first. No, she would leave Kirk rotting behind bars for the rest of his life, or preferably strapped in the electric chair. God could forgive her for these indiscretions if it was for the greater good. Sunday came and Y/N kissed him sweet and slow on the front porch of his house, the routine that had come to them each weekend. “My parents are having my going away dinner on Wednesday, you’ll be there right?” She asked. He wouldn’t, she would make sure of that. He would never step foot in her house again, never press his lips to hers again. It hurt, made her insides feel all twisted and knotted because she loved him, she really did. But this couldn't be forgiven. She was a good person, she was. Kirk's face fell at the mention of her leaving again. His lips pulled into a soft pout, dark eyes flicking away from hers again. “Yeah of course I’ll be there.” He sighed, squeezing her hands just a little tighter, like it could hold her in place. “I would never miss it.” With a final kiss to her cheek he released her hands. Leaning against the frame of his front door he watched her walk across the connecting lawn back to her house. Giving her a small wave and crooked smile as she looked at him over her shoulder once more. This was it, this is the way she wanted to remember him. Bathed in soft morning light, face easy and relaxed, yearning. The cute awkward way his body moved. She would lock this feeling away deep in her heart, the love she lost. It was for her and her only. She would leave the rest to shrivel and die. Flashing her teeth at him in a bright smile she disappeared inside her house. 

Instantly her legs felt like jelly. The exhaustion from pretending finally came tumbling down on her and she wretched out a sob that echoed off the walls of her otherwise empty house. Thankful for the peace to let her grieve in peace, mourning every possibility she could have had with Kirk. With all the strength she could muster she pushed herself off the door, stumbling further into her house. Trembling hands outstretched for the phone sitting unassuming on the receiver. She was going to need therapy after this to ever feel comfortable calling someone again. First the empty threats on her life and now she would be the undoing of the boy she loved. Sucking in a breath she tried to fill her lungs, the action forcing uneven wheezes from deep within her chest. She pushed her finger into the dial and pulled. 

9 

Again her finger hooked on the plastic and tugged. 

1

She hesitated, staring down at her trembling hands. Knuckles red and splotchy, nails bitten down to the skin, raw and angry. 

1

With the phone tucked in between her ear and her shoulder she listened to the deafening ring, once, twice. She was underwater, the deadpan voice that answered her on the other end sounded like nothing more than noncoherent mumbling but finally Y/N was able to force her voice out. Barely above a whisper she spoke, “I’d like to make an anonymous tip to the police department please.”

[thegingerwriter]

Between grinding gears - 1

Uhh, I wrote this today. I have more. This is Chapter 1. Oh my god I'm so nervous to post my original writing lol enjoy it, please. I have so much whump writing in my notes just sitting there

CONTENT: Whumper with cane, implied forced drowning, implied punishment, nothing 18+

Allison was yanked out of the water, heaving with every breath she was able to pull into her lungs as she clutched at the floor to try and climb to her feet. 

Barely a second passed of her trying to grab a hold of something when a boot landed on her back, pushing her down to the floor. “Nuh uh- you can stay down there for a moment,” a voice said.

Allison groaned, still coughing up water as her damp clothes stuck to her entire body, squishing against the cold concrete floor and making the situation so much more uncomfortable. Allison was only just processing where the words even came from when the voice spoke again.

“Now, we’ve got some time to talk about our earlier discussion.” Grayson. It was Grayson. Walter’s fucking pride and joy head captain on the “worst fucking people ever team”.

The discussion he was referring to brought Allison back to her alarming present. Walter. Left a few days ago for a trip. Left Grayson in charge. Told him to keep her working. Told him to keep an eye on her.

Allison also distinctly remembered a particular moment (she didn’t know when it was, had she passed out) where she told Grayson to “go fuck yourself.”

Ah, she thought. So that’s what’s happened.

“Allison, are you listening?” Grayson’s voice was impatient.

“Mmm,” was all she was able to reply, her coughing coming in waves but not being made any better by the foot on the middle of her back.

“Tomorrow,” Grayson started, “we’re transporting you to a facility-”

“No-” Allison pushed the word out with much as force as she could muster, attempting to put her palms to the floor to push herself up. It didn’t do much. 

Grayson responded with a harsh push but ultimately lifted his foot, stepping away from her limp body as he kept talking.

“And every day you don’t work, I’m coming into your cell myself.” Grayson’s words were setting Allison off as she finally began to drag herself across the floor. There was no plan, no real way of escape. But she wasn’t trying to escape, just get away from him.

“Walter doesn’t even know how to train you properly.” Grayson spat, his voice still close, telling her he was following closely. The implication made her stomach sank to know she was barely moving. “Look at you, you should be begging not to be hurt. You should be down and know to stay there. Stay in your room until your called. Use the power you don’t even deserve, work, go back. And yet, you just don’t know when to stop.”

Grayson’s voice rang out in the concrete room as Allison started coughing again as she swallowed and was reminded of her inability to breathe a moment ago. 

Allison perked her head up as Grayson came around to her front, squatting to her level and wasting no time by grabbing a fistful of her drenched hair and lifting her head up harshly and leaning down till his lips were touching her ear. She cried out, not having enough energy to even lift her hands up to head to even try to relieve the pain.

“No wonder you don’t have any respect for this situation or the authority in this place. Walter couldn’t even do-” Grayson hissed into her ear, but was interrupted by another voice.

“Couldn’t do what?” The voice was clear and authoritative. Loud. The effect it had on Grayson was almost immediate as he dropped Allison’s head and she had half a second to hold herself up enough to stop her chin slamming into the concrete.

Allison recognised the voice and was terrified to find she was almost relieved. She rested her head gently on the ground, taking a moment to breathe for a second while looking up slightly at the pair of clean black formal shoes a metre or two in front of her face, a matching cane between them.

“Walter,” Grayson’s louder voice than before did very little to hide his nerves. “When did you get back?” He almost sounded scared.

Walter’s voice sent a shiver through Allison. “Not soon enough, I think. Why have you tried to break my pet?” 

Allison tried hard not to object to the statement. Not yet. Grayson is unapologetic in his answer when he replies. 

“She wouldn’t learn. And you don’t seem to teach.”

The words make her heart skip a beat. Fear is coursing through her when thoughts fill her head about what Walter might do to her if he is threatened that he doesn’t punish her enough. The anxiety of the thoughts compels her to speak.

“No- Jilten- please I- Gray tried to… I-” She can’t get anything out properly and she barely notices that Walter has worked forward, crouching down and hooking the top of his cane under her chin to force her to look up at him, as much as it hurts to hold her head up. 

Walter’s eyes are unforgiving but there’s something in them that says she might not be the one in trouble right now. Like he’s upset someone has touched his toys. “Maybe I like you a little broken like this…But you’re not broken for me, are you darling?” Walter speaks and Allison’s words catch in her throat again.

Walter pulls his cane away and reaches down to cup her chin. The contact makes her melt slightly and she curses herself and him for it. Despite Walter’s cruelties, he kept her sane. He needed her sane to break her the way he liked. And she can’t ever be broken enough to not do the work that he so desperately needed her for. And Grayson almost ruined that. 

Allison tries to protest at his words again, but he shushes her. “It’s okay. You’ll be alright, it’s not you that I’m set on punishing right now, you’re in trouble enough already” And with that, he stands up, clearly ending the conversation, but Allison persists.

“Jilten please I promise-” Allison finally finds enough of her voice, but Walter has had enough. 

“No, I think that’s enough out of you. Present company already thinks I’m too soft on you.” 

Allison looks up at him but is met with Walter already having straightened completely and staring at Grayson, who has been mostly silent watching the exchange. Allison goes to make a sound from the back of her throat in protest of the situation and indicate she is not done, but Walter pushes the bottom of his cane on the back of her head, pushing her down gently until her cheek touches the floor. Her face burns at the thought of Grayson watching this but something in her feels something else. Allison would never defend Walter but Grayson could never have this kind of power over her. Or anyone.

“What have you achieved?” Walter asks.

Grayson is confused in his reply, his eyes flicking down to Allison on the floor beneath them “Surrounding Allison?”

Walter is growing more impatient and take it out on Allison, pushing down slightly harder on his cane whether intentionally or not. “You claim to be more skilled in teaching my pet. Surely that means you have evidence attuning to the fact you have information from her to aid in our endeavours?”

Grayson is silent for a moment before he clears his throat. “We’ve been close. She cooperated for a little with Jonathan and I on this project- I think it could work, just like you said. But she was purposefully aggravating us and making things go wrong. She won’t work. All she tried to do was find a way to contact them.” Allison stiffens at Grayson’s recount.

Walter makes a tutting noise with his mouth, clearly displeased with this new information. He removes the cane from Allison’s head and gently pushes the tip of his shoe under her chin to lift it to look into her eyes. When Walter speaks, it’s to Grayson, but he’s staring daggers into Allison.

“And… did she succeed?” Walter asks, eyes not leaving Allison.

“Sorry?” Grayson replies.

Walter turns to Grayson, clearly impatient. “Did she contact them?” He looks back down at Allison. 

“No. She didn’t get the chance to.” 

Allison tries to release the breath she’s been holding in, but she’s worried Walter notices. Walter continues to stare down at her, and she tries not to squirm under his gaze, but she can’t help moving back slightly when he crouches down again to grab her face, cupping her chin. 

“Darling,” Walter pauses, letting the severity of the question he’s about to ask sink into her. “Did you find a way to contact your precious friends?” The nice touches are over now, Walter’s voice is low but above a whisper and he grips her chin much harder than before. 

“We would have noticed.” Grayson tries to interject, but Walter is completely ignoring him. 

Allison tries to shake her head, but Walter’s grip on her face doesn’t allow her to. “Ah-ah, tell me.” He leans closer and Allison can’t help but flinch. “Come on Ali you can tell me.” 

Allison barely has the strength to hold anything back anymore, and even though she doesn’t reply, her heart sinks as Walter nods in understanding at the look on her face and the breath she stops holding in. 

Walter lets out a deep sigh, surprising Allison by reaching out for her shoulders and torso to pull her up with him as he stands again, supporting her with an arm around her waist. The wet clothes stick to her even more and she tries to ignore it, almost grateful for being pulled off the cold floor. Allison wants to protest at the hold he has on her, but she has almost nothing left to do so. 

“It seems you are just as useless as the rest of them Grayson,” Walter speaks, leaning on his cane with the hand not around Allison’s waist as if this entire interaction has been boring him more than anything else ever has.

“Sir I-” Grayson starts but Walter cuts him off a final time.

“You will not touch my property again, Grayson.”

But something in Walter’s voice and the way he gripped her said Grayson was not in the only one that should be worried.

[muffinsin]

Distractions

Bottom Bela Dimitrescu x Top Donna Beneviento

Prompt: When Bela distracts and teases her girlfriend all day, she finally gets what’s coming to her

Masterlists

Donna closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again. It had been a while since she felt this relaxed. Her entire body felt at ease and her breathing was completely even.

With one of her favorite books in her hand, written in a beautiful handwriting and filled with beautiful italian letters, the morning was perfect. The book cover, made of leather, rested comfortably against her hand and her slim body rested smugly against the sofa and pillows placed on top of it.

Despite the occasional thuds and yells (mainly caused by Angie or one of her playmates), the doll maker found the morning quite peaceful. Perhaps it was even the best one of that week, for it was neither cold, nor uncomfortably warm on that particular day. Donna felt comfortable in her black dress, but deemed it unnecessary to wear her veil. She hardly did so at home.

Angie was running around wildly, probably chasing some small animal, Donna guessed. Her little feet could be heard whenever they made contact with the wooden floor and her laughter rang quietly throughout the house.

Donna was just a few minutes into reading the next chapter when she suddenly felt a dip on the sofa next to her. She finished reading the current page, before she looked down at Bela’s head on her lap. Contact was still something she had to get used to, even though she made great progress already and often even initiated contact by grasping Bela’s cold hand (her girlfriend’s skin was always rather cold, which sometimes concerned the doll maker greatly).

She used one hand to distinctly comb through the blonde locks, (she smiled when she felt her girlfriend press into her palm hungrily) and continued reading her book. She didn’t mind Bela’s company at all and in fact found comfort in tangling her fingers in blonde, soft, curled hair.

Or that was the plan at least: reading. However, she wasn’t even halfway through finishing the next page when the doll maker felt her girlfriend’s head press against her stomach.

That wasn’t new to her though, for more often than not the blonde was desperate for her attention and often appeared to seek affection in form of cuddling.

Donna gasped a little when she felt Bela take her hand and press it against her round breast though. Bela’s fingers placed over her own ones urged her to squeeze and grope, but the doll maker had different plans on such a lovely morning. Especially she was interested in finishing her book, a task she had set herself weeks ago already.

For a moment Donna believed she could simply ignore her needy blonde and continue her book in peace, but that proved to be impossible after only a few minutes, for every time the doll maker re-started reading a sentence, Bela’s whine interrupted her.

“Bela.”, Donna said in a warning tone. She chuckled when she slapped her girlfriends’ breast lightly and received a gasp and a pouty grumble in return. When Bela released her hand, the other woman considered it done and turned her attention back to her book, only occasionally petting Bela’s hair, for the blonde was quite determined not to move from the warm lap of her girlfriend.

That also was nothing new to either of them and had almost become a daily routine for them. Because of Bela’s dislike regarding cold temperatures and her own cold skin, cuddling was often the most useful and comfortable way of warming herself up, especially in winter, when it was freezing outside and the fireplaces inside of the beneviento residence were lit and spread warmth.

Some minutes passed in silence and the doll maker was even able to read another chapter- admittedly not the most interesting one anyway- before she felt the bug-like-blonde claw at her book. Had Donna not held it in such a steady grip, it likely would’ve fallen out of her hand.

”Bela.”, she warned again. Again she only received a tug on her book and a small whine as a reply.

It continued like that for a few minutes (Donna considered simply giving in to her girlfriend’s needs), before a rustling noise from outside caused the blonde to abandon her position on her girlfriend and go hunt whatever poor animal had captured her attention.

It was only a few hours later when something similar occurred again. That time it was when Donna was peacefully tending to her garden. The weather was warm, nearly uncomfortably hot even, but there was a light, comfortable breeze. The sky was free of any dark clouds and allowed the sun to shine upon her plants undisturbed. Shortly; it was the perfect day for gardening, Donna decided.

It started with Bela tugging at her clothes, whining and constantly swarming around her. Despite her girlfriend’s obvious attempts of receiving her attention, Donna decided to ignore them for the time being, just to see how much she could rile her girlfriend up. In a way it was a payback for earlier, when the blonde was (apparently) fixated on not letting Donna finish her book.

Ignoring her however proved to be a lot harder than the doll maker had originally believed, for not long after she denied her girlfriend her touch, the blonde stripped and laid down in the grass to ‘sunbathe’.

(Truly- Donna wasn’t even certain that Bela COULD tan, for she had never seen the blonde anything but pale.)(She did not doubt that Bela simply did it to capture her attention. She was no fool after all!)

”Donna”, Bela called occasionally and Donna painfully tried not to pay her any more attention than necessary, for the sake of her garden alone! (God forbid Angie attempted watering her precious plants if she was to leave with her girlfriend!)(As much as Donna loved the doll, her garden was off limits for her, for she’d always water her precious plants too much or too little.)

The third and last time was in the late evening, when Donna was sewing another dress for one of her sweet dolls. (Despite all of them having beautiful gowns already, the doll maker found that there was always room for improvement and would gladly take her time to design and sew new, beautiful clothes for them.)

It was then that Bela decided to sit right on her lap. As much as Donna relished in the feeling of her girlfriend on her, it was hardly the time for distractions, and oh how much the playful blonde liked to distract her.

”Bela.”, Donna warned and placed the partly-finished dress on the table. Despite her better judgement, her hands instead came to rest against Bela’s bottom and caressed the fabric of the black dress there.

“I’m working, stop distracting me, doll.”, Donna said, kissed Bela’s cheek (that was for once not covered in blood!) and leaned forward to continue her work.

”You’ve been ignoring me all day!”, Bela exclaimed whiny and Donna chuckled upon feeling the woman grind against her thighs. “We have eaten together and spent time together with Angie, bug. We even cuddled after dinner for quite a while. I wouldn’t say that I ignored you.”, Donna replied and continued sewing.

She gasped when she felt her girlfriend lick and bite her neck teasingly, but caught herself again after a few moments and continued sewing.

Another thrust against her thigh.

”Donna, please.”

She examined the tiny, unfinished dress.

Another jerk against her, hands coming up to cup her breasts.

She sighed loudly and placed another kiss against Bela’s cheek, though that only resulted in an angry whine.

”Such a brat.”, she commented and looked down when she felt another thrust against her thigh. Despite the room’s dim lighting, she noticed (and felt) the wetness against her leg.

She hiked Bela’s dress up slightly to see her bare skin against her own black gown. “Care to explain this?”, She asked sternly.

She knew how needy her blonde could be, but the thought of her girlfriend’s wet, naked cunt against her still surprised her. She idly wondered whether the other woman was like that too when they spent their days at Castle Dimitrescu (usually on the colder days or in winter) and whether a maiden had ever found the blonde like that already. She dismissed the thought when she felt another thrust against her leg.

“We’re at home…I can be comfortable.”, Bela answered simply and gasped at her next thrust against her girlfriend’s dress.

The doll maker didn’t doubt that she’d have to get rid of it eventually, for the smell and stain probably wouldn’t be able to be washed away so easily. Well, it was an old one anyway. “I suppose you’re right. Comfortable like I was on the couch, perhaps, you brat?”, She asked and delivered a harmless smack against Bela’s backside.

“Allow me to make myself comfortable again, then, if you’re all for comfort, doll.”, Donna said and continued her work. The brunette knew she was teasing the other woman to no end and was, perhaps, being a little too cruel there, but she continued her work nonetheless, not oblivious to Bela’s needy thrusts and loud whines, but certainly ignoring them.

She almost jumped when she felt Bela stand up abruptly and her eyes widened slightly when the blonde pushed her work, fabrics and anything else that might’ve been laying on the table onto the floor and instead swarmed to sit on the desk instead.

Her clothes, seemly dropped while swarming, now laid on the floor.

“So what now, doll?”, Donna asked unimpressed. She knew what her girlfriend wanted, though she was not particularly pleased with what she did to receive it.

”Please.”, Bela whined and pressed her thighs together desperately. Donna took long enough to think about whether or not to give in and when she focused back on her girlfriend, her brows furrowed in anger.

She watched in silence for a few moments as Bela’s fingers thrusted in and out of her cunt, cum dripping down her hand and onto the table, before she removed the digits roughly and held Bela’s wrist in a stern grip.

”Really? Is this how you think this will go, little brat?”, Donna asked and tapped the table with one of her fingers. “Plea-“, “Do you believe that you should be rewarded?”, Donna interrupted rhetorically.

Her hand came up to hold Bela’s hair in a tight grip (she did however make sure it wasn’t tight enough to hurt her lover) and her lips brushed against Bela’s lightly, just enough to leave her lover whining for more. “Distracting me all day long, not taking no for an answer, you just have to keep teasing me. And now this: fingering my cunt without my permission.”, Donna muttered lowly and looked down onto Bela’s lap.

Donna, despite her shyness and quietness when it came to strangers, could get very possessive of Bela, like the blonde was possessive of Donna, especially when it was only the two of them. The doll maker was used to people leaving her and therefore made sure no one was to take Bela from her. The doll maker was quite possessive in that matter.

The blonde pressed her legs together instinctively, partly ashamed for acting so needy, and embarrassed for wetting her girlfriend’s crafting desk.

”Please! Y-You-I’ll let you do anything!”, Bela whimpered and lifted her hips slightly. Her wrist struggled slightly against Donna’s hold, but she made no true effort to escape it.

“Oh, I bet. Spread your legs, doll.”, Donna said and the blonde did so eagerly. The request certainly did not require repeating.

The room had taken a comfortable atmosphere again. The dimly lot lamp coated the room in a comfortable light and the wetness of Bela’s cunt filled the room with its aroma.

Donna fidgeted and changed Bela’s position slightly and held her still as she jumped when three of the dolls in the room moved.

”You wanted me to take care of you and I am. Now stay still, doll.”, Donna muttered and watched satisfied as the dolls used the materials (the red ribbons that now-thanks to Bela-laid on the floor) to tie the pale woman’s legs to the table legs. Once that was done, they resumed their place near the corner of the room and became stiff once more.

Bela gasped when she tried to move her legs and they wouldn’t budge from the furniture. (Both women knew that, in case of any major discomfort, Bela could simply swarm out of the restraints).

”Stay still.”, Donna repeated and let go of Bela’s wrist and bent down to pick up another red satin ribbon. Bela watched as her girlfriend tied it around her wrists, before she lifted them and connected them with the hooks above the desk.

Normally those were created to hold any unfinished products of hers, but Donna liked their new use far better, she decided.

She dragged her fingernails over Bela’s breasts and grinned slightly. It was one of her favorite things, really, to watch her girlfriend squirm beneath her fingers- to know that she was the reason for it.

“Donna!”, Bela gasped when she felt her nipple being squeezed. She felt another wave of arousal in her cunt and whined when the ribbons kept her from closing her thighs.

”Wrapped up for me so prettily, like a Christmas present, perhaps.”, Donna tsk’ed and kissed Bela’s jaw. She was not at all happy that she’d had to abandon her work and was fully intending to play with her girlfriend for as long as she wished to make up for it.

”You want to cum pretty badly, huh?”, She asked rhetorically and grinned when she dragged her fingers through her girlfriend’s folds teasingly. “Please- D-Donna!”, Bela whined.

”You look so pretty like this, all wrapped up for me, my beautiful doll.”, Donna muttered and kissed down Bela’s chest until she could suck and bite the blonde’s right nipple. For all she knew, Bela’s breasts were the most sensitive, though she intended to find out how else to make her girlfriend squirm.

Meanwhile Donna’s hands kneaded Bela’s thighs. The action made the sensitive witch squirm on the desk and whine loudly.

”Don’t make me gag you. I don’t want Angie waking up and coming in here.”, Donna muttered and allowed one of her fingers to enter her girlfriend’s soaking, warm cunt.

”More”, Bela demanded and tried to lift her hips to meet the doll maker’s thrusts.

”No. You’re my present so I get to play with you the way I want, is that understood? It’s also not like you’d deserve more, my greedy brat.”, Donna mocked and kissed Bela’s nose. “Just-please! D-Donna!”, Bela whimpered and tugged against the restrains.

“Mine.”, Donna whispered and bit Bela’s breast again. She kept repeating the word over and over again, each coming with a bite or flick of Bela’s nipples and either a whine or moan coming as a reply from the blonde.

”Oh fu-ah! Donn-a! do-n’t stop!”, Bela gasped and Donna’s eyes widened when she felt her girlfriend unexpectedly come around her fingers. “You’re enjoying yourself, I see.”, Donna said and smirked while Bela tried catching her breath.

The doll maker added two more fingers and placed her thumb on Bela’s clit, before she started thrusting into her again. That time it was a lot rougher, so that the desk shook. Had they not been in the pretty much at the other side of the lower level and Angie at the opposite one, Donna might’ve considered slowing down a little.

Donna noticed a few tears run down Bela’s cheeks, but paid them no mind when she heard more of Bela’s moans cover the room. She suspected the tears were simply a result of her slightly overwhelmed girlfriend, for Donna usually waited a little longer and allowed her girlfriend to catch her breath before she continued.

”Maybe I should just leave you like this.”, She muttered to gain her girlfriend’s attention. “Soaked and horny, but unable to get any pleasure. Maybe that could teach you not to be such a brat.”, Donna continued. “I could just pick up on my work, the work you interrupted, and watch you squirm so beautifully for me.”, She finished, though her thrusts didn’t stop. “Would you like that, Bela?”, Donna asked and smirked when the blonde shook her head hastily. There was salvia dripping down her chin and her nipples, red and slightly sore, stood erect because of the chill air in the room.

The lord took her sweet time looking over her girlfriend, watching as her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath and how her thighs twitched occasionally, wanting to press together but being denied to do so. To her, the sight was almost angelic.

The room grew hotter and by the sound of Bela’s moans and gasps, the blonde was again nearing her orgasm. The doll maker, unfazed by that, continued her thrusts and occasional tugs on Bela’s clit, and even marked the pale flesh of the other woman’s neck.

“Ah!”, Bela yelped when Donna’s teeth grazed her ear and the doll maker grinned when she noticed the woman tighten around her fingers. She had found another sweet, sensitive spot on her girlfriend’s gorgeous body.

”Go on, doll. Cum, it’s not like you need to worry about making an even bigger mess.”, Donna whispered into her ear and licked the woman’s ear teasingly.

The action caused another wave of pleasure within Bela, and it therefore didn’t take long until she was gasping and whimpering on top of the table again, her cunt red from the brutal pace of her girlfriend (not that the Dimitrescu complained) and sensitive after her orgasm.

”You’re being so good for me, Bela. So sweet, so responsive, so, so wet.”, Donna whispered into her ear, before she moved up to kiss her beloved. She knew not to dive into her cunt straight away again, or Bela would likely get too overwhelmed, so she opted for making out with the woman instead.

Her wet fingers caressed Bela’s body, exploring for more overly sensitive places and her tongue pushed against the blondes’ so erotically. Donna felt her own wet panties against her cunt.

Neither women seemed to care about the mess they created; the mess on the desk caused by Donna’s rather rough thrusts, or the mess the doll maker created with her wet fingers on Bela’s body.

After a few minutes the blonde was still panting; Donna’s fingers squeezed and tugged her nipples, occasionally even hit them, and her mouth sucked and placed small bites against Bela’s throat. “Plea-ase!”, Bela choked out, eager to feel the doll makers’ talented fingers back inside of her, but again the request was denied.

”Is that all you can do for begging, my dirty girl?”, Donna asked and continued feeling her way up and down belas body. She was sure that if the blonde could blush, she would, and her body would be on fire.

Said blonde jerked and gasped when she felt Donna’s fingers push against the spot between her ribs and whimpered when she action was cruelly repeated over and over again, while the doll makers’ attention on her sore breasts didn’t lessen. Her thighs and arms jerked against their restraints and hoarse whimpers escaped her lips as Donna focused on all her sensitive spots; her hands on the spot between her ribs and on her breast, while her mouth busied itself with her ear and neck.

“D-Donna, please! I-I need!”, She whimpered when she felt her legs shake against her will and the bubbly feeling in her stomach rise.

The doll maker hummed but didn’t move away and instead continued her teasing movements for several minutes, until bela orgasmed again.

Immediately the older woman moved and kicked broadly against the now wet and red cunt and was determined to collect as much wetness with her tongue as possible.

She took pride in Bela’s loud gasps and hitched ‘Ah!’s, but held her hips in a tight grip to keep the blonde from rocking against her. It was clear that the brunette was in charge of her pleasure for that evening.

”M-More!”, Bela whimpered occasionally, but Donna ignored all of her requests.

”Bratty girls don’t get their way. You will orgasm when I want it, how I want it, and only if I want it. So be a good girl, Bela, and say thank you for your orgasms.”, She answered eventually as she looked up at her restrained girlfriend. Donna’s chin was wet from her meal, something that aroused the blonde even further.

”T-Thank you, Donna”, Bela answered almost immediately.

She yelped when she felt Donna’s fingers entering her and her tongue flicking her sensitive clit instead.

”So, how shall we do this, doll?”, Donna asked rhetorically. Her fingers were awfully still inside of her girlfriend’s cunt.

”You want me to go slow? Make you feel every movements, so you know just how deep I can be, just how good I can fuck this pretty, little, cunt?”, Bela whined and tried to rock her hips against her.

”Or should I make it quick? Fuck you senseless until you can’t stand straight anymore? With wetness dropping out of your poor, soaked cunt?”

Bela whimpered and panted, her hands and legs shaking against their restraints.

”P-Please, I-I wan-“, “Yes, you want to come, my dirty girl.”, Donna interrupted with a smirk.

She began to thrust into her girlfriend at a quick pace and had her fun playing with the girl’s red and sensitive clit. The actions caused loud screams that eventually made Donna wonder whether she should’ve gagged her lover for the sake of Angie.

Donna kept it like that for several minutes, when she occasionally slowed down her thrusts to receive gasps and whines and moans and begs, before she’d continue at a faster pace. No matter how often it happened, she doubted that she would ever get tired of seeing her doll like that; out of breath, moaning, trembling and her lower parts wet from her own orgasms. No, Donna decided, nothing could ever cause her to get tired of this.

When Bela’s orgasm hit her that time however, she squired and swarmed for a few seconds, before resurfacing back on the table. Donna was, despite being proud to have caused such a reaction, a little disappointed to notice the blonde’s limps now free of the pretty, red bondage. Still she did not waste too much time being disappointed, for a new idea crossed her mind already (and wet her own panties).

”That was fun, huh?”, She asked and held Bela’s face in her hand, her fingers squeezing her cheeks slightly. “But..tell me, buttercup, what did we say about staying still?”, She asked rhetorically. She did not expect her girlfriend to answer, nor did she care for an answer.

”Get down and bend over the desk.”, Donna instructed and helped her girlfriend, who’s legs were slightly wobbly and who yet had to catch her breath, move off the table. If the wet mess on the desk bothered the blonde as she bent over, she did not show it, though Donna doubted that the woman noticed it. She was still in her own little world, it seemed, where she tried to catch her breath and kept her mouth open, even though no words passed her bruised yet soft pink lips.

A spank against the woman’s backside seemed to bring her back to the room though and Donna pressed her thighs together subtly at the loud moan and yelp that passed Bela’s lips. Instinctively the blonde pushed back against Donna’s front, awaiting more.

”Such a good, pretty girl.”, Donna praised and smirked when she again heard the blonde whine and push back against her.

”Still, I think we should keep the noise down for the next few, don’t you think, doll?”, Donna asked and grinned at the whimper she received when suggesting that there would be more rounds. She knew that Bela healed a lot quicker than an average human, which is why she savored and took pride in the moments when the blonde was so sore that she could barely move, talk, or let alone walk around without grimacing.

”Stay still.”, She repeated a final time that evening and turned back to see whether she could find anything to gag her beautiful, but unfortunately (in such a situation) also very vocal girlfriend.

The said woman did as she was told for the most part, if you ignored her legs occasionally pressing together and her fingers playing with her nails and hair.

“Good girl, Bela.”, Donna praised when she returned and found the blonde in the same position as she was in as she left her. The blonde allowed her girlfriend to place the red ball gag in her mouth, for it wasn’t the first time they used it and it had rather become routine.

That was mainly because of the many times when they’d start playing around in Bela’s room (or any unoccupied room at Castle Dimitrescu, sometimes) and Donna (being rather quiet during sex) saw it fit to gag Bela (who was, to put it frankly, a loud and wet mess during sex) in order to avoid being discovered and interrupted by a maiden or any of the Dimitrescu sisters.

Donna stroked some of Bela’s slightly sweaty hair, before she delivered another spank to her bottom. That time there was a yelp again, though it was more the randomness of the spank that caused it than any actual pain.

“I suppose you’re trying to get on my good side now, huh, my sweet, little brat?”, Donna asked as her hand met Bela’s bottom again. The pale flesh was beginning to turn slightly red under the harsh treatment and the doll maker smirked upon seeing more wetness coat Bela’s thighs.

”Say, doll, do you have anything to say for yourself? Being a brat all day, keeping me from reading, tending to my hobbies, not wearing any panties like the naughty brat you are, and lastly..getting so, so wet for me.”,

Bela whined against the gag when Donna collected the wetness running down the insides of her thigh. When she tried to press them together to relieve some of the ache, another, harsher spank was delivered to her already red bottom.

”Didn’t I tell you to stay still, doll?”, Donna asked and spread her lovers’ legs again. “I want you to do something for me, buttercup; don’t worry, it’s easy. All I want is for you to apologize for what you did.”, Donna muttered and caressed Bela’s red bottom lovingly. It was one of the very rare occasions when her skin was warm- hot even, under her touch.

Just as Bela began to mumble an apology though, she was cut off by her own yelp when a harsh swat was delivered to her sore bottom again. This time it even left a handprint and made the blonde whimper and tremble against the desk slightly. How was it that Donna always found and targeted her damn sitting spot?!

“I’m sorry, doll, did you say something? If you have something to tell me, make a proper sentence.”, Donna scolded playfully and another spank followed against Bela’s sore body.

The worst of it all? It was turning the blonde on to no end, to the point where she was a dripping and whining and moaning hot mess.

”Doghn-a! I’m soghy vor entewupt-ah!”, Bela was able to keep her voice more or less steady with the hard spanks being delivered to her sore ass- yes, even her sitting spot, but when the doll maker decided to switch things up and instead smack her hand harshly against Bela’s cunt, the blonde yelped and knew she had to start over.

“You want me to remove that for now, buttercup?”, Donna asked, her fingers, wet from Bela’s own cunt, stroking the ball gag. For a moment the blonde thought about it- surely Donna wouldn’t make this that easy for her, but when another harsh slap filled the room, she nodded eagerly. Despite them offing using it, Bela was not at all a fan of the ball gag and would rather, if necessary, be shut up differently.

The doll make did as she proposed and swiftly removed the toy, though Bela noticed why only a little later when instead the tip of a strapon was thrust into her mouth. “Wet that for me as well, won’t you, precious?”, Donna asked rhetorically as she went back to turning Bela’s bottom and especially her sitting spot hot and sore. She hadn’t planned of using the tool on Bela that day, but knew of Bela’s dislike towards the gag and needed another solution quickly, before the woman would start whining and fidgeting and whimpering in discomfort.

”I-I’m sorry for in-interrupting your reading!”, Bela started and whimpered when she felt another spank. They were starting to really affect her, both the pain and the pleasure. Both of it was nearly too much and Donna cooed when some more tears ran down Bela’s cheeks. The blonde whimpered and avoided eye contact while swirling her tongue around the toy in her mouth.

”You should be, my precious doll, you know very well that I planned on finishing it today and you kept trying to do naughty things.”, Donna answered and collected some more of Bela’s wetness, before she licked her fingers clean again. She hummed at the taste and stroked over Bela’s bottom for a few seconds longer, before she got back to work. They weren’t done yet, after all.

”I-I shouldn’t have i-interrupted you when you were in the garden a-and I shouldn’t have distracted you when you we-were busy..I-I must we-ear panties too.”, Bela finished and Donna smiled.

Bela’s bottom was sore, red and warm, every little touch to it caused the blonde woman go jerk away and whimper and every spank resulted in a new wave of tears. Her clit and cunt were equally red and sore, for Donna took pleasure in spanking them as well and Bela’s chin was full of drool from sucking the toy. Donna, who felt particularly dominant on that evening, ravished the sight of her lover to submissive and willing, completely trusting her not to go too far. Donna always made sure she didn’t go too far and by now she could differentiate between tears caused by overstimulation and tears from pain and tears from sadness.

”You did so good, buttercup, such a good girl.”, She praised and placed a kiss on Bela’s cheek.

”She noticed the woman press her eyes shut and smirked when she noticed that the woman was again about to orgasm and was, as it seemed, only waiting for confirmation.

”That’s it, doll, cum for me, you did so well.”, She said and smiled when Bela’s muffled screams filled the room once more.

She removed the toy from Bela’s mouth and hid it back in a closet, before gathering the woman’s clothes and setting them on a chair nearby. Her dress was, as expected, ruined and stained, but she didn’t find it in her to complain and instead used the already ruined fabric to wipe away the mess they left on the table and floor. Afterwards she threw the dress away and turned back to her lover.

“Do-n-na!”, She rasped out, her voice both hoarse and tired. Donna found it cute, but also reminded herself to get Bela some tea with honey later.

The doll maker shushed the blonde and picked her up in her arms, careful that her bottom didn’t brush against any of her almost naked body more than necessary. She would’ve gladly changed, but figured that the way to her room wasn’t that long and Angie was surely either busy or asleep already.

”I love you.”, Bela muttered tiredly as she let herself be carried out of the room in bridal style. Her lower body felt on fire and her upper one was bruised with hickeys and even a few bites. Besides that, she felt too exhausted to attempt swarming- she’d surely just fly against some doors, windows, curtains, chairs, or, if she was to be particularly unlucky- right into a spider web. (One of her personal fears)

”I love you too, bug.”, Donna replied and was about to kiss her girlfriend when suddenly a loud giggle stopped her.

”FLY TITS! FLY FUCK FACE AND HER FLY TITTIES! Must you be SO LOUD!”, Angie yelled, particularly up for bothering them after having to endure Bela’s noises when SHE was having a tea party with her friends.

The doll chased them all the way to their room, until Donna apologized and locked her out.

She laid Bela down on the bed and after changing her clothes and taking a cold shower, joined the woman with a sweet smile.

[themirokai]

I am beyond lucky that the wildly talented @kulapti is a fan of the Emotional Support Raven series. In addition to the incredible art that she's done for Hanging and Loverboy, she also has fantastic pictures of Matthew and Jessamy together here and here and here. (Go, click the links, look at the great art. Reblog it.)

Those images stayed with me and I wanted to write something for Kulapti that could be the background for how Matthew and Jessamy get to be pals. That story is below. Thanks to the inimitable @once-in-a-blue-moon-rising for the speedy beta read!

(Also, it's not required reading, but the end of this post is now canon for this series and slightly relevant.)

Reunion

Matthew felt the familiar swoop of vertigo that signaled when he had switched from flying up into the sky of the Dreaming to flying down through the sky of the Waking. Below him he saw the black-clad figure that was his goal, and he glided downward in a graceful curve. 

Lord Morpheus was talking to someone, so Matthew landed on the ground beside his feet, rather than on his shoulder. Lord Morpheus glanced down at him with the tiniest up-curve of the corner of his mouth, which passed as a warm smile from him. He extended his hand to Matthew, who quickly hopped onto it with one flap of his wings, and was lifted to Lord Morpheus’s shoulder. 

Matthew finally looked at Lord Morpheus’s conversation partner who was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But there was something- 

“Sister,” Lord Morpheus was saying, “allow me to present my Raven, Matthew. Matthew, this is my sister, the Lady Death.” 

The woman’s eyes were warm and her smile bright. “Hello, Matthew.”

Oh. 

“I know you.” The words left Matthew’s beak before he could stop them. 

Death’s smile faltered for a nanosecond and she tipped her head to the side. “You remember me?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean sort of.”

“Sort of?” Death smiled encouragingly. 

“It’s… sort of hazy.” Matthew shifted uncomfortably. “I remember you were there and you were. Um. You were kind. And then… and then I was in a different body and Lucienne was talking to me.” 

“Those were the important parts,” Death said gently. “And how are you finding being a raven?” 

“I like it.” Matthew glanced at Lord Morpheus. “A lot. It’s a good gig and I like flying.” 

“And you’ve got shoulder privileges.” Death beamed. “It took some of your ravens decades to make it to your shoulder, didn’t it, Dream?” 

“Perhaps.” 

Matthew preened. He knew what ‘perhaps’ meant in the Boss’s lingo. 

“Well I’m glad it’s working out.” Death looked distinctly pleased. “But I’m afraid I’ve got work to do.” She grabbed Lord Morpheus’s hand, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “See you later, Dream. Bye, Matthew, keep up the good work!” 

“Fare you well, my sister.”

“Bye! Thank you … ma’am,” Matthew finished awkwardly. 

Lord Morpheus looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Matthew shrugged his wings. 

—

Matthew gave his wings a gentle flap to keep his blood flowing: he had been perched on the tree branch for a long time. He wasn’t sure if this would work, but it was important, and he felt like he had to try. Fortunately Hob had some outing planned for Lord Morpheus in the Waking, so Matthew figured he had plenty of time. 

When he decided to try to talk to Death, Matthew considered that he might kill something, a mouse for instance, in order to make contact. The fact that he liked eating mice was something that the formerly human part of his brain gingerly stepped around whenever it came up. But he wasn’t a great hunter by any stretch, he felt odd asking another raven for help with this particular errand, and he wasn’t entirely sure whether a mouse’s demise would mean that Death would show up in the form of a mouse. Plus it might be awkward, and the conversation already had plenty of potential for awkwardness, without adding blood sacrifice to the mix. 

Waiting outside a hospice was, he felt, a much safer bet. 

Matthew hadn’t seen her enter, but she walked out of the front door after Matthew had been waiting for a few hours. Same black pants and black tank top and black boots. It seemed the fashion sense ran in the family. Matthew took a breath, then flew down to land on the pavement in front of her. 

Death pulled up short. “Matthew! Hi!” 

Matthew gave a little bow. 

“Oh,” Death laughed, “you don’t have to do that with me.” 

“Um, thanks.” Matthew looked up at her. 

“What’s up?” she asked. “Is Dream okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, he’s fine!” Matthew said quickly. “He’s with Hob. All good. I just - um - I was hoping to talk to you? If that’s okay?” 

“Of course!” She smiled. “Can you walk with me though? I should be getting to my next appointment.” 

“Oh yeah, sure.” 

Death started off and Matthew hopped along beside her. 

“Do you want a lift?” she asked, patting her shoulder. 

“Oh,” Matthew desperately hoped she wouldn’t take offense, “thanks for the offer, but I’m kind of a one shoulder type of guy.” 

Death beamed at him. “I get it. So what’s on your mind?” she asked. 

Matthew swallowed, steeled himself. “I wanted to ask you about Jessamy. The Raven before me.” 

“Mm.” Death’s voice was quiet. “She was Dream’s Raven for a long time, but I can’t say I knew her well. He tends to keep you lot to himself.” 

That wasn’t surprising, but Matthew still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it. He filed it away and pressed on. “I actually wanted to ask about her death.” 

“Okay…” Death sounded wary. 

“It’s just… Lucienne told me that when the Corinthian was killed in the Waking, he re-formed in the Dreaming. And - and Lord Morpheus’s Ravens are dreams, and dreams can’t die, right?”   

Death stopped walking and let out a slow breath. Matthew idly wondered if she actually needed to breathe. 

“Dream knows far more than I do about how the rules work for his realm and his creations. We mostly stay out of each other’s affairs.”

“Yeah, and that’s worked out really great for your whole family,” Matthew deadpanned. 

Death’s eyebrows shot up and she turned to face him. “Excuse me?”

Matthew’s beak fell open as he realized that he had just mouthed off to Death. THE Death! 

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean -“

But then her expression broke into a broad grin and she laughed. “Okay, fair enough.”

Matthew let himself breathe again. 

Death leaned her back against a tree, propping the sole of one foot up against the trunk. She stuck her hands into her pockets. “But I’m still not sure I have any answers for you.”

“Well, even if you don’t know how dreams work, you know how death works,” Matthew said. “So why didn’t Jessamy go back to the Dreaming when she was murdered?” 

“You said the Corinthian was renewed in the Dreaming?”

Matthew nodded. 

“That was after Dream escaped, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Death nodded and took a breath. “I’m pretty sure Jessamy couldn’t go back to the Dreaming because Dream wasn’t there,” Death said quietly. “He was cut off from the Dreaming so it couldn’t function to renew her. She wasn’t the only dream who died while he was imprisoned.”

“But she was the most important to him. And she died trying to save him.” 

Death inclined her head in acknowledgment. 

“So now that he’s back and the Dreaming is working again, could it renew her?” 

Death sighed. “Matthew, she’s been dead for decades.” 

“Sure, but she was a dream, it’s not like she has a corpse rotting in the ground. And lots of people exist in the Dreaming after they die, even if you don’t count me.” 

“She is in the place appointed for her.” 

“She’s not though,” Matthew insisted, opening his wings a little, “she’s in whatever shitty place she ended up because things were fucked when she was murdered trying to save your brother. The place appointed for her was the Dreaming. And now that it’s fixed, she should be able to come back.”

“Are you seriously asking me to bring Jessamy back from the dead?” Death crossed her arms over her chest. 

“No. She’ll still be dead, I’m just asking you to let her be dead in the Dreaming. Like I am.” Matthew swallowed, pushing away the thought that he was arguing with Death. 

“I can't just do that,” she said firmly. 

Matthew bobbed his head. “I- I understand that you can’t just do that. But… what happened to Jessamy hurt Lord Morpheus. He’s better than he was but it still hurts him. I don’t know that bringing her back to the Dreaming will fix that hurt. In fact it probably won’t. But I’d bet you a pretty penny that it would help. Please.” 

Death sighed and her shoulders slumped a little. “I do worry about him,” she said softly. 

“Me too,” Matthew said, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t be asking otherwise.”

Death blew out a long breath and straightened up, pushing off from the tree. “She has to want to come.”

“I didn’t know her, but she was his Raven. She’ll want to come.” There was no doubt in Matthew’s mind. 

Death took another deep breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.” 

She snapped her fingers and a doorway of white light appeared in front of them. Matthew wondered, as he hopped after her, whether he should feel more nervous about following Death into the light. But he reminded himself that it had worked out pretty well the last time. 

—

Matthew had expected labyrinthine pathways, or at least a road, but instead they stepped into a blank white void, and there, laying down with her eyes closed peacefully, was Jessamy. Matthew supposed that Death got to take shortcuts. Jessamy was smaller than him, with a band of white feathers around her torso, and while he had never seen her before he was certain he would know her anywhere. 

Death stroked a finger over Jessamy’s head. “Hi, sweetheart.” 

Jessamy opened her eyes and blinked at Death, then her beak opened and she got quickly to her feet. “My lady! Hello!” 

Death smiled warmly. “I have someone here who wants to talk to you.” She stepped aside so Jessamy could see Matthew. 

Before Matthew could speak, Jessamy gasped.

“Oh! You’re his Raven! He got free? Is he alright?!” 

“He’s alright,” Matthew said gently, stepping forward. “He’s doing pretty good, actually. He escaped a while ago and got his tools back and rebuilt the Dreaming.” 

Jessamy seemed to sag with relief. “Oh, thank goodness!” She paused and shook her head, then looked up at him again. “I am so relieved. Thank you for telling me - ah, what is your name?” 

Matthew bobbed his head. “I’m Matthew, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” 

“From… from Lord Morpheus?” Jessamy took a hesitant step towards him. 

“Yeah. He misses you a lot. That’s - uh, why I’m here actually.” 

Jessamy cocked her head to the side. 

“When you were killed you came here instead of going back to the Dreaming because Lord Morpheus was cut off from the realm and it didn’t function right without him. But now that he’s back and has rebuilt it -” Matthew glanced at Death “- Lady Death was kind enough to say you could return.” 

Death put her hands on her hips and gave him a wry smile. “You left out the part where you insisted and guilt-tripped me, Matthew.” 

Matthew shrugged his wings. “I wanted you to have the credit.” 

“I - I can go home?” Jessamy looked from one to another. 

Death’s smile warmed and she went down on one knee. “Yes, sweetheart, you can go home if that’s what you want.” 

“Oh!” Jessamy hopped towards Death. “Oh, please, my lady! More than anything!” 

“You won’t be able to leave,” Death cautioned. “No more flying between realms. You’re still dead, but you can be dead in the Dreaming.” 

“I understand!” Jessamy said quickly. “An eternity at home in the Dreaming is all I could ever ask for!” 

“Right then.” Death stroked Jessamy’s head again, then stood and snapped her fingers. 

Another doorway opened and Matthew could see Lord Morpheus’s throne room on the other side. Lord Morpheus was sitting on the stairs talking to Lucienne when the door caught Lord Morpheus’s attention and he stood with a frown.

“Off you go,” Death said. “Tell Dream I said hello.” 

“You’re not coming?” Matthew asked. 

“Nah,” she said, scrunching up her nose, “got work to do, and we try not to drop in on each other unannounced. You go enjoy the reunion.” 

Jessamy turned and bowed low to Death. “Thank you, my lady. You have my neverending gratitude.” 

Death smiled. “You two just take care of my brother.” 

Matthew dipped his head. “Thank you, my lady. We will.” 

With that, Matthew and Jessamy stepped through the door. 

—

As they crossed the threshold Lord Morpheus stopped in his tracks, and his jaw dropped in a silent gasp. 

“Jessamy,” he whispered, then turned to Matthew. “Matthew, what is this?” 

“It’s me, my lord,” Jessamy said, stepping forward. “Lady Death permitted me to return.” 

Lord Morpheus’s breath hitched and he ran forward as Jessamy flew into his arms. He caught her in a hug and dropped to his knees, burying his nose in the feathers of her back. 

Matthew watched them, feeling warm from beak to tail feathers. 

Lucienne stepped up beside him. “Is that really…” she asked in an undertone. 

“Jessamy,” Matthew told her, proudly. “Real, sacrificed-herself-trying-to-save-him, Jessamy.” 

“How?” Lucienne asked. 

“I had a chat with Death,” Matthew said, his nonchalant tone undermined slightly by his preening. “Pointed out that if the Boss wasn’t locked up when Jessamy was killed, she would have just come back here when she died. So now that the place is fixed up, she should get to come back.” 

“Oh, Matthew, well done!” 

Lord Morpheus, who had been speaking quietly to Jessamy, looked up, his eyes shining with tears. “Matthew, Jessamy says this was your doing?” 

“It was Lady Death, Boss. And she says hi. But I made the suggestion.”

Lord Morpheus held out his hand to Matthew, who flew to it and was brought into an embrace along with Jessamy. He pressed his head against Lord Morpheus’s chest. 

“Thank you, Matthew. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Boss.”

He felt a beak combing the feathers at his neck. 

“If I had an eternity to choose, I could not find someone better suited for the job of Raven,” Jessamy said. 

Matthew was grateful that he couldn’t blush. “Yeah, well, it’ll be nice to have another Raven around the place.”

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 7 - Prompt: Beloved @jegulus-microfic

December Daily Series - 489 words.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Some people were content to observe the world as it circled around them, rather than engage with it. Regulus might be one of those people, but James wasn’t.

The longer he watched Regulus’s controlled, elegant choreography, the more he wanted to try it for himself. James wasn’t particularly graceful, but he was drawn to the rhythmic swish of Regulus’s hips to a beat that he couldn’t hear. When Sirius trailed off to the side of the rink, James redirected toward the centre.

He didn’t want to interrupt him, so he circled closer gradually until Regulus noticed. Once they made eye contact, James sped up and slipped in behind him. He followed Regulus’s lead and did his best to mimic the skater’s steps as they skated backwards in looping circles.

After a few turns, Regulus’s hips stiffened and his entire body tensed. James frowned, thrown off by the shift. He backed off to give the skater more room to move, but it didn’t seem to help.

Suddenly, Regulus skidded harshly on the ice. He swivelled around so fast that James didn’t have time to react and he crashed hard onto his bum. Staring up at the furious glare of Regulus Black made James feel rather small and bug-like.

“What are you doing?” he snapped.

James offered an apologetic grin and held out his hand. “Trying your routine. It’s harder than it looks.”

Regulus scoffed, “You’re lucky I didn’t knock you flat for invading my path.”

“I mean, you kind of did.”

“That’s not my fault, you fell.”

James inhaled deeply and tried again. “Look, I’m sorry. I figured you could use a partner and-”

“Pardon?”

He scrunched his face when he heard how that came out. “I didn’t mean that you needed one, of course. Just that if you wanted one, I was available.”

“I skate alone.”

“Oh, alright.” James dropped his hand to his lap when it was clear that Regulus had no intention of helping him. “Got it.”

Regulus pulled his ear buds out and rolled them in his hand like dice. He still looked uncomfortable, and his voice was distinctly annoyed when he whispered, “Stand up. People are staring.”

“Yeah, right.”

James hauled himself upright and brushed off his bum. When he was steady on his skates again, he shoved his hands in his pockets and slid away as casually as possible.

“If you change your mind, I’m still available,” he tossed out with a half-hearted laugh.

The incredulous expression on Regulus’s face was answer enough. Any progress that he thought he’d made earlier was well and truly gone now. He was back at square one. Or, potentially negative one.

“Smooth. Really bloody smooth,” a girl snarked as she skated by, rolling her eyes.

James nodded and headed for the boards. Perhaps Regulus had the right idea after all. He would have been better off observing from afar instead of succumbing to his beloved zeal for action.

Next Part >>>

[funky-sea-cryptid]

ough okay hi everyone i'm finally fucking posting callakirsch for lyra's 1k halloween event @blackclover-emc

interactions are welcome but don't feel pressured :3c

word count: 704 words

pairing: kirsch x oc (calla m. eucidot)

summary: calla and kirsch go to a halloween ball, and calla is nervous about it.

“For the last time, it’s not a costume party,” Calla said, getting out of the carriage. “There’s no need to dress like that, you know. You’re going to embarrass me in front of God and everyone at this god-damned ball.” 

“I look fabulous,” Kirsch said, delicately lifting his cloak as he followed his husband out into the snow. He was wearing a peacock themed mask, which would’ve been fine if he hadn’t themed the entire rest of his outfit around the bird. Calla took a deep breath in, and counted to ten, silently begging whatever God had informed his husband that it would be a good idea to dress like that would bless the rest of the party with that opinion. He tugged at his blue-green suit. The necktie had too much pattern. 

How the hell had Calla gotten roped into this?

It was a sort of crisp night, making the little magical lights outside the venue sparkle. Calla felt distinctly uncomfortable. He was nervous about noble venues, and the last time he’d been to one of these, it had been before Sherry was born, and he’d been too nervous with anticipation that someone would start talking or mention him, that he’d had no fun at all. 

Speaking of Sherry -

“Are you coming out, Sher?” Calla asked, and then his child stuck her head out of the carriage, grinning. Their copper-gold hair had been pulled into a low braid, threaded with peacock feathers and he had managed a very fancy suit-dress combination. 

“You look very nice,” he said, and kissed his child on the cheek. She giggled. “Very fancy.” 

“Thanks, Dad. Why are we dressed as peacocks again?” Sherry asked, and Kirsch lit up. 

“Well, I’m the squad captain,” Kirsch said. “We have to represent the Squad, of course!” 

“Dad was a Praying Mantis,” Sherry said. “Why don’t we dress like bugs?” 

“Hey, yeah,” Calla said. “Why didn't we dress as bugs? You wouldn't have had to dress up.” Kirsch gasped so loud that half the arrivals turned to look at them. 

Great start. Calla adjusted his bow tie. 

“I’m gonna go see if anyone cool’s in attendance,” Sherry said. “I’ll see you guys inside!” With that, they bustled off, lifting his skirts. Calla swallowed. 

“Are you nervous?” Kirsch whispered. 

“Now you gain emotional intelligence?” Calla whispered back. Kirsch sniffed and pulled his cape tighter around himself. “Well. None of my friends go here. It’s all a bunch of high society - and y’know, Sherry -”

“Sherry’s going to be fine,” Kirsch said, and offered an arm. Calla took it, clinging to his husband like a lifeline as they headed toward the venue. “And you’re with me, so you shouldn’t worry.” Kirsch tossed his hair. 

“God, right, I’m with you,” Calla bemoaned. “And you’re dressed like a bird. Nozel Silva is calling, he wants his aesthetic back.” 

“You are so cruel to me!” Kirsch gasped, and Calla laughed at the comical expression on his face. 

“You’ll survive my cruelty, y’know,” he said, and Kirsch huffed. 

“Nobles and royals are crossing the class divide more,” Kirsch said, and Calla bit his lip. “You’re not going to be out of place.” 

“I guess,” Calla said. “But y’know, I’m-” 

“You look like you fit in,” Kirsch said. “Because we match.” They did. Matching set. Plus, Calla loved teal and he didn't have to wear pink. “You’re going to do great. And if we make it through,” they made it to the top of the stairs, to the door. “We’ll go to one of the common realm’s parties next year.” 

“Deal,” Calla said, and leaned up for a kiss. Kirsch delivered, whipping a cocoon of blossoms around them - meant for privacy but just drawing more attention to the both of them. The gesture was nice. 

“Mr. and Mr. Vermillion?” the poor doorman said, and Kirsch dissolved the cocoon, holding out their invitations with his free hand. 

“Sorry about him,” Calla said. “It’s Kirsch-” Kirsch gasped again, and Calla squeezed his husband’s arm. 

“Our child’s inside,” he finished. 

“Welcome to the party,” the doorman said, and held open the door. Kirsch smiled at him, and Calla swallowed, took a deep breath, and smiled back. 

I’m going to have a good time.

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 8

Part 9/25 | Ao3

[TW for violence, mentions of DV and implied SA]

Tilly

Each night the following week, Tilly resolutely fell asleep on her side of the bed, warm and content and perfectly fine where she was. And every morning, Tilly woke up, tightly tucked into Eris’ side, warm and content and confused, but perfectly fine where she was. He smelled like mulled cider and cloves and something so distinctly Eris. She’d managed to extract herself without waking him each morning, but it was getting harder and harder to pull away. 

Perhaps, I should just allow him to wake up first one day and see what he does. What is the worst that could possibly happen? Could he have it in him to so blatantly reject me?

She was still worried about making their situation awkward or uncomfortable, but with how willing Eris had been to do things he knew would make her smile, was that even a well-founded concern anymore? She knew he must care for her, at least to a degree. She had slipped and told him as soon as he’d asked her about winnowing, and after berating herself for it mentally, she’d allowed herself to think that maybe trusting him wasn’t such a bad idea. He’d told her about his pact with his brothers, something he’d undoubtedly told no one else. This tentative trust growing between them–this partnership–was blooming into something entirely different within her heart. She’d have to decide how she planned to handle it soon. 

Since their first day out in the archery range, she’d gone once more with Eris, but today she’d gone by herself while Eris attended a meeting. As much as she enjoyed Eris’ company and the astonished look on his face while she shot, she was thrilled to be able to use her magic here alone. She’d taken advantage of the time to play with her fire and her portals on the range, and it filled a part of her heart she’d worried would remain empty forever. It had felt so good to let loose some of the magic she’d been holding back so tightly in the past few months. The urge to tell Eris was becoming overwhelming. She wanted him to know–she was sick of shouldering these secrets alone. She wasn’t sure how she would even begin to go about it. 

Yes, I am your wife and we’ve shared our deepest secrets. Oh, and also I can heal people and conjure flames and create portals! Surprise! 

It wasn’t exactly dinner conversation. Somehow, she knew he would understand why she’d kept it a secret–she knew he wouldn’t be mad she’d withheld it–but centuries of keeping it to herself weighed against her. 

She looked around the beautiful, warded clearing and still couldn’t believe that Eris had done this for her. She hadn’t had anything this thoughtful since before her father had died, and she was shocked that she could find herself so happy here. She tucked her bow away, then winnowed to a copse of trees outside the wards of the Forest House. She was able to come from the woods at this angle, looking as though she’d been visiting the hounds in the stables.

After a quick lunch, Eris still hadn’t returned, so Tilly decided she’d return the books she’d borrowed to the House library. She’d been trying to brush up on her history of Autumn–it had been centuries since her official lessons as a child, and it was disgraceful how much she’d forgotten about her own land, backwards as it could be at times. 

To get to the library, Tilly had to travel through her least favorite hall in the house: the East Wing. These were the halls of the High Lord, and they truly reflected it. There was absolutely no natural light, and each of the stone walls was deeply engraved with scenes of battle and horror and gore. The tapestries hung dark and red, mirroring the blood gouged harshly into the events depicted on the walls. Every time she had to come through here to reach the library, she put a good bit of speed in her step and tried to waste as little time as possible. 

As she reshelved the final of the large history books, she was startled by a piercing wail and shriek, then silence. It had come from the hall, and Tilly pressed herself into the shadows by the shelves. She stayed in the darkness until she was sure no one was coming. 

Should I get someone? Who would I even go to? 

Her heart was pounding in her chest, surely loud enough that any predator nearby might hear. She tried to breathe and calm it as she took slow, decisive steps towards the open library doors. What could have made such a horrible noise? 

As she peaked around the doorway to the dark hallway, the groan of another door opening caused her to jump back, only daring to look through the small crack of light. There, she could see Beron exiting the room, straightening his clothes, then stalking down the hallway in the direction opposite her. She counted in her head…198….199…200. Once she was sure it had been long enough, she ran to the doors and wrenched them open, not bothering to knock. 

She realized too late that these were the High Lord’s private chambers, and that she had just intruded into a nightmare. Alanna sat curled into herself on the floor by the hearth. Her dress had been ripped off her shoulder, and blood and bruises covered her face. She was sobbing, unable to get a breath down, and Tilly hated that her fae lineage meant she could scent what else Beron had done to her. 

Tilly walked quickly into the room, shutting the door behind her, and when Alanna saw her, she fell apart. 

“No, Tilly, you can’t be here. You have to go. If he comes back, he’ll kill you for helping me.” The rage was blinding now. 

“I don’t care, come.” She dropped to the floor next to Alanna and took her arm, gently lifting her. “Can you stand?” A shaky nod. “Let’s go to the bathroom.” She held her arm tightly, letting Alanna point her through the elegant rooms. Alanna was shaking and her breath was still coming in great gasps, so Tilly left her to sit on the edge of the tub while she ran her a warm bath. She turned to allow Alanna privacy to remove her dress, then closed her eyes and offered her an arm as she slipped below the bubbled water. Gently, Tilly took a cloth and wiped the blood from Alanna’s face. She spoke, barely audible in the echoing chamber. 

“I just asked the guards if I might go to the garden earlier than normal. That’s all…” Tilly could feel her heart cracking into two, the creases filling with a molten hot fury that threatened to bond it all together in a mess of violence. “He wasn’t always this bad. At the beginning, he was cold. We were never in love, and he was always far older than me. But by the time he started hitting me, I had nothing left. Nowhere to run. Children to care for, and for him to threaten me with.” Her sobs started anew, and she rested her face in her hands. Tilly let the smallest amount of healing run through her fingers to help the pain in Alanna’s jaw. Not enough that it would be detected, but enough to ease some of her discomfort. She ran the cloth across Alanna’s back, where she could now see the porcelain skin, so like Eris’, littered with scars and bruises. 

“You don’t deserve this, Alanna. No one deserves this, but especially not you.” 

She allowed Alanna the space to finish bathing, giving her privacy while she brewed her some tea and left it at her bedside, turning down the covers. Tilly was shaking with anger, the fire threatening to burst forth from her veins. Realistically, Tilly knew this could have easily been her life, too. She and Alanna were maybe only twenty years apart. She could have been sold to a lord older than her, the highest bidder, and been another piece of property to own and abuse as he saw fit. The relief that filled her heart when she remembered Eris was the one waiting for her took her by surprise.  

Tilly helped Alanna dry and dress and helped her to the bed, tucking her in and handing her the tea. 

“I am so, so sorry, Alanna,” she whispered as she made to leave, silently glamouring the room to mask her scent throughout until it faded. As she made her way to the door, she heard Alanna’s tired voice from the darkness. 

“You’re a good female, Tilly. I am so very glad my son has you.” The tears burned violently at the back of Tilly’s eyes as she left, closing the door silently. She tried to calm herself as she walked briskly down the dark halls, her flaring emotions not even allowing her to be afraid of the carvings anymore. 

She flew through the halls, a maelstrom of warring emotions, and didn’t stop until she arrived back at their rooms, tossing a hand up to free the wards, stepping inside, and throwing them up all in one breath. Eris had been sitting on the couch but stood and spun around at her abrupt entrance. He took in the wild state of her immediately. 

“What’s happened?” And Tilly’s face crumpled. Eris was immediately by her side, pulling her gently into his arms and rubbing gentle lines up and down her back. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Til, what’s wrong?” 

Through sobs, she could hardly get out the words. “I am going to fucking kill your father myself.”

Eris

Eris had already been ready to split the world in two when he’d seen Tilly’s tears, and now, it was taking every single bit of his self control to not set the entire Forest House on fire. Tilly had told him everything that had happened, so he knew what he was walking into at dinner, but it didn’t quell his rage in the slightest. 

Beron had decided that beating Alanna–assaulting her–hadn’t been enough. He was now making her stand at the dinner table as they all ate. When they’d entered, everyone had seen at once, Alanna included, that her chair had been removed, her plate empty. He could practically see her freeze her emotions into acceptance and submission as she had constantly for the past five centuries, the bruises still fresh and shining on her face. The ripple through the rest of them felt palpable to him, though none of them betrayed a hint of it on their faces. 

Now, as Beron watched them all, they ate dinner silently as he discussed the land treaties near the western border, of all things. Since he wasn’t allowing Alanna to eat, he occasionally made comments about how delicious the food was. Eris could see the grip Tilly had on her fork tightening at each wayward comment. He put his hand on her thigh beneath the table, hoping to calm her. 

Beron’s conversation stalled, and he smiled cruelly as he looked at Alanna. “Is the food not to your liking, my dear?” Eris could see even his brothers’ smallest tells that they were close to losing their composure, as well. 

“High Lord, the food is wonderful, I’m sure.” Alanna cast her eyes down as she was expected to, and Eris felt Tilly grab his hand tightly beneath the table. 

“Tell me then, love, why aren’t you partaking?” The vicious nature of his voice was not hidden well beneath the cloying sweetness of his words. From the walls, Aradnus chuckled darkly. He loved a good show, and Eris wanted to kill him for it. 

“Because I have displeased you, High Lord.” Her voice was barely a whisper in the large room. 

“What’s that, Alanna? Speak!” Eris could feel Tilly shaking. 

“I’m sorry, High Lord. I have displeased you, and I do not deserve to eat.” Eris wished the floor would open and swallow them all when he caught the single tear that slipped down his mother’s nose. 

“That’s right, wife. Now beg me for forgiveness. Over here, on the floor.” He gestured beside him and Aradnus lit up with joy. Alanna’s wide eyes shot to him. 

“W-what?” The displeasure flickered darkly over Beron’s face. 

“I said, come here and beg me.” It was happening before Eris could do a thing to stop it, as Tilly shot to her feet, leaving his hand behind. 

“Leave her alone.” She growled across the table, and the silence that followed felt like a collective shifting of the world. For a single moment, no one in the room took a breath. Across the table, Eris was sure the looks of shock from his brothers and his mother matched his own. Even Aradnus had the sense to be quiet and look surprised. Then, Beron’s face contorted in wrath as he shot to his feet, slamming his now-flaming palms to the table. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are, you little bitch?” He roared across the table. To her credit, Tilly did not flinch. “You have no power here. You’re nothing but a broodmare. A possession.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “Eris, strike her.” 

Then the world did fall from beneath his feet. He had to. He knew it. Nothing had ever felt worse in his life than this moment. 

He stood, pulling every part of his face into painstaking indifference. Without hesitation he slapped Tilly. Her head shot to the side with the force of it. 

I am so sorry. 

When she turned back, her face was firm, but he could see the message in her eyes. 

I understand. I understand. 

“Again.” He slapped her again. “Backhand her.” A trickle of blood fell from her lip. He didn’t dare look at anyone around the table, couldn’t bear to take his eyes off Tilly for even a moment. Something inside of him was breaking irreparably. 

“Good, Eris. I expect you to teach your disrespectful cunt some manners.” Eris’ fingers twitched as he visualized ripping out Beron’s throat with his own hands. “Now punch her. I want you to knock her out.” Eris spun around. 

“What?” 

“I said, knock her out. I will not have you teach her this lesson again, so do it right this time.” Tilly’s eyes were wide now, but she did not falter. 

“No.” Eris knew he’d be beaten beyond repair for this. Beron might skin him alive. He didn’t care. “I will not.” 

Rather than the bellow he expected from Beron, he received quiet, calculated words. “Everybody out. Now.”  Eris could hear the chairs scraping around him, a blur of motion as everyone rushed to go. Tilly stalled, not willing to leave, but he saw Bray grab her wrist and tug. The only person he looked at as they departed was his mother, a glimmer of pride in her eyes as she shut the door behind her. 

Tilly

“Go back to your rooms, set the wards, and don’t answer the door for anyone.” Bray had told her quietly, dropping her off at their hallway and pivoting quickly to come back the way they came. Tilly sprinted to their room, warning bells blaring in her head. She quickly undid the wards and slid through the doors, securing them behind her and patching the wards back together. She’d barely leaned against the door before the first sob cracked through her chest. 

What have I done?  

The guilt was threatening to tear her apart, but all she could focus on was the fear and worry that permeated the space around her. She’d done this. She couldn’t keep her mouth shut, and now Eris was paying for it. She was pacing like a caged animal around the rooms, worrying the dogs who kept trying to sniff at her hands and comfort her. 

Hours passed this way, and still Eris did not return. It had to be the early hours of the morning now–the moon was already dipping back low in the sky outside. She’d wrung her hands into a mess of red skin, and she knew her hair would be wild if she looked from running nervous hands through it. The dogs had long since given up on her, returning to their beds and keeping sleepy eyes on her movements around the room. 

Should she go get Alanna? Did she run the risk of encountering Beron if she did? Would that make everything even worse? 

She started to cry again. Fuck. She couldn’t just keep her mouth shut when it mattered, and now Eris was somewhere in this godsforsaken house, probably in immense pain, and there was no one to blame but herself. 

The door creaked open and she whirled to see Eris staggering in. A strangled gasp left her chest as she sprinted to him, gathering him into her arms as she sobbed against him. 

“I’m so sorry, Eris. Gods, I am so fucking sorry.” She gasped into his chest and felt him wince. 

“Is this all I need to do to get some attention from you?” He said, tone trying to be light, but it came out as more of a groan. She laughed wetly and pulled back, looking him over. His eyes were bloodshot, a dark bruise blooming over his jaw and beneath his eye. His shirt, however, was covered in blood, some of the edges singed. 

“It’s okay, Tilly. It isn’t your fault. I just want to bathe and go to sleep.” His voice sounded tired, so she grabbed his hand and brought him to their bathroom. In a scene eerily reminiscent of the afternoon she’d spent with his mother, she ran him a bath, dumping lavender and cedarwood oils in, and filling it to the very top. She watched as he peeled the layers of bloody clothes from his body, and she couldn’t hold back the gasp that choked her as she saw his exposed back. 

Burns were everywhere, some fresh, some old. There were marks that looked like a whip had been taken to him repeatedly, and some of the scars were so faded they must have been centuries old. He’d heard her, and turned his head over his shoulder to see the tears streaming down her face. He walked to her, cupping her face in his palms. 

“It hardly hurts anymore, Tilly. I barely feel a thing.” She had begun to sob, her lip quivering as she barely got out the words. 

“All of you?” He nodded solemnly. “Eris…I am so, so sorry.” She hung her head, but pressed a hand to his bare and bloodied chest. She let the familiar warmth rise in her veins, summoning the light to her fingertips and letting it flow into Eris. His eyes were wide with wonder as he understood the gravity of what was happening, as he felt his back knit back together, the sting lessening and the ache becoming manageable again. 

“You….you have powers?” She laughed through her tears. 

“Oh, yes. Loads.” She smiled at him, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “And Beron won’t know a word about it until it’s too late for him.” She let Eris see the determination in her eyes–let him see how much she meant every word. 

“I mean to kill him.” He blurted out, surprising even himself. “I mean to kill him and take the crown. I am allied with the Night Court, and they will support me as the new High Lord. No one knows. Not my mother, nor my brothers. Just you.” He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, caressing her jaw as he told her his deepest, darkest secret. 

“Then we’ll do it together, Eris.” He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead down to meet hers. 

“Together, then.”  

Taglist: @cauldronblssd@queercontrarian @byyalady @thelovelymadone @clockwork-ashes @lovingkelj

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

Ed!! For DADWC: "aloe being slathered on a sunburn" for Shaesa/Alistair?

Thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu for sending this prompt Gin! (For context, one of you lovely people sent me this ask a hot minute ago and I had it marked as one I wanted to do only for me to realize I must have somehow deleted it :((( so im sorry for losing your prompt but thank you for sending it regardless!!!! Hope you enjoy!!!)

for @dadrunkwriting

Rated T: for very very slight innuendos, slice of life, romance, comedy, ~2.2k words (yeah idk how that happened in one night either)

Maybe Days | By Exalted_Dawn

“Uh… so not to ask what we have all been wondering, but may I ask why are you walking like that?” Zevran’s voice cut their travel pace just as efficiently as any one of his daggers. Sharp and pinpointed as always. And a little too mirthful to mean anything good, in Alistair's opinion.

Shaesa turned stiffly to face him, scowling and square as a sign. “Like what?” 

“That,” he said, tipping his head to look at her from head to toe. “You have been shuffling for the past half-hour. You look like you are walking with a reasonably-sized stick shoved up your behind,” he said. “Are you in need of a rest? I could massage you, if you like. Your shoulders in particular look rather-” He reached a hand out to rest on Shae’s shoulder, and Alistair nearly tripped in his stumbling flail backwards as Shae jolted and scrambled out from beneath Zevran’s touch.

“What the fuck, Zev?!” she barked, looking almost white as a sheet as she wheeled around to glare at the man. “Don’t startle me like that. I almost pulled a sword on you.” 

Zevran and Alistair both stared at her in bewilderment, Zevran in particular. Even Alistair knew that that wasn’t much of an excuse– Zevran had been about as subtle as a drunken druffalo in his approach to that one. 

Still though, she insisted on glowering at them with undisguised, near-righteous offense.

Raising a brow, Zevran strode forward again, his hand one again raised to try and touch Shaesa’s arm, but this time she waddled backwards before he even got within a foot of her. Then he tried again, only for her to duck and spin away entirely. It was obvious now, as Alistair watched, that her movements were distinctly stiff and uncomfortable.

He frowned. “Shae?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light. “Not that I don’t think we need it, but surely there are better times to be practicing your dance moves for the Landsmeet? What’s wrong?” 

“It’s nothing! I’m fine!” she snapped, scurrying away to the left this time. A bemused, but ultimately unmotivated Zevran easily trotted after her. 

Alistair wasn’t convinced. “Shae, if you’re injured-” 

“I’m not,” she growled, turning her ire onto him. “I’m just a bit-”

Zevran’s hand clamped down again on Shae’s shoulder, and she practically yelped, smacking Zev’s hand away and cowering back like a wounded cat. Suddenly, the assassin’s face blossomed into a wide, bob cat’s grin. “Aha! You did get sunburned during yesterday’s sparring match, didn’t you?!” he exclaimed, finally releasing Shae with a laugh. She glared up at him, and Alistair could see actual tears in her eyes as she tenderly prodded at the spot that had grabbed her with her fingers. Zevran tutted a little, nudging her in her arm with his elbow. “Did not Wynne warn you about the dangers of sparring sleeveless? You didn’t listen to her?”

Shaesa pouted at him weakly. “It was hot out and I was sweating too much. I didn’t want to soak my sleeves through.”

“Nothing but pitiful excuses,” Zevran hummed blithely. Alistair nearly pointed out that Zevran was hardly one to talk, considering how… exposed he regularly insisted on being. But then, he’d never seen the elf with a burn either, so he wasn’t sure if that was an argument that would win once made. Zevran continued. “Regardless, you should see to it that the burn is treated. We will still be on the road for some time, and you wouldn’t want it to get infected further. I have some soothing gel– if you would like, we can find you some privacy and I could-”

“No.” 

It was his own voice that barked out louder and more suddenly than even Shaesa’s, who he had practically yelled over in his rush to shoot down Zevran’s suggestion. Suddenly, the area they had been traversing seemed suddenly far too quiet.

Shaesa and Zevran both stared at him in surprise. Maker, even he was thrown off by his own interruption.

Alistair shuffled, his face heating uncomfortably. “W-What I meant to say is that I won’t leave you alone with her. You may have agreed to join our cause, but don’t think I have forgotten the contract that sent you to us. It would be reckless to let Shaesa go off alone into the wilds with someone hired to kill her.” 

Especially if she was meant to… expose herself to him. Alistair swallowed, and viciously shoved away the images that thought conjured to mind. 

But if Zevran was offended by his excuse made in haste, then he didn’t show it. The Crow smiled wide, raising his hands in mock surrender and taking a very clearly advertised step sideways, away from Shae. “Ah- my apologies. I did not mean to cause any alarm. Your fears are well founded.”

Shaesa made a face. “Zev-”

He held up his hand again, shushing Shae before she could even begin. He continued. “Of course, if you would like to volunteer to help our fantastically fried friend here, I would be more than happy to lend you the salve.” As if to prove a point, he deftly produced a small, metal tin from his hip pouch and waved it between two fingers.

He wasn’t sure which of them looked more horrified– him or Shae.

“What?!” he quacked, his face now almost the same shade as Shae’s. “No. I-”

“Then you would let our beloved leader suffer for the entire trip back to camp?” Zevran pressed, faking innocence.

Shaesa hissed. ““Zevran.”

“Of course not!” Alistair said at the same time, the both of them sounding several shades of scandalized.

“Then I see no issue here!” Zevran finished happily, tossing the lotion to Alistair. The latter only barely caught it, but by the time it was firmly in grasp, Zevran was already walking away. “I swear, you Fereldans and your modesty,” he tutted, batting his hand at an imaginary annoyance. “Whenever you two are finished, I will be over here by this tree, resting and enjoying the shade while I can.”

As though to prove his point, he collapsed onto a bed of shadowed grass and shut his eyes with a contented sigh, the sound a strikingly effective bookend to the conversation. Shae and Alistair were left speechless. 

Left to their own devices, they eyed each other nervously, neither wanting to make the first move. But with Zevran firmly planted in his spot, it was clear there would be no easy way of backing out of this. 

Shae shrugged a shoulder, gesturing to a nearby copse of trees, and without much else to do, Alistair nodded and followed after her. The trunks of the trees didn’t provide nearly enough cover for Alistair’s liking, but then, he doubted that even a private, locked room would calm the pounding of his heart. This was ridiculous. Of course, he didn’t want Shaesa to be in pain– they still had almost an hour more of walking until they neared camp– but still, surely there was a better solution than-

Shaesa cleared her throat, her eyes forward as she methodically shrugged out of her coat-sleeves, revealing a thin-strapped, cream chemise underneath. “Sorry about that,” she began, a touch of tired frustration to her voice, even as she flashed him a grin. “Seems being a busy-body is an elven thing everywhere, even in Antiva. I’ll yell at him about it later.” She finished ridding herself of the overgarment, her muscles flexing and rolling as she set the quilted blue jacket aside. 

Alistair frowned.

The whole of her back was a blistered, bright red. Skin peeled where her bones jutted and he could see spots where the burns had been rubbed raw. It looked bad. Worse than bad. 

Shaesa shifted a bit, flashing him an uneasy look. He had been staring. 

Alistair flushed, though for a different reason now, and his attention quickly dropped back to the tin in his hand. “Don’t trouble yourself. I doubt any amount of thrashing will force manners through his head,” Alistair murmured, his throat still a bit tight. The lid of the jar popped open after a moment of fiddling, and almost delicately, Alistair dragged his fingers through the clear, white goo. “You’re sure you’re okay with me doing this?” he asked, trying not to sound unwilling. “I can… try to look away, if you’d prefer?”

She merely laughed a little. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you not go blindly poking at my very sore back. I don’t mind it, Alistair. I trust you.” 

The way those words made his stomach tumble probably should have been more alarming to him, but unable and now a bit unwilling to back away from that edge. Not with Shaesa’s encouragement at least. 

Laden with salve, he reached out, and carefully touched his fingers to her skin.

Immediately, Shaesa bit out a sharp hiss and flinched. “Ah fuck, that’s freezing,” she laughed, and immediately dispersing any worries Alistair had of hurting her. He continued, allowing his hand to drag downward, leaving a stripe of ointment that stretched from her nape to the hem of her low-cut top. 

Her skin was scalding. Even through the film of salve, he could feel the way it burned at his fingertips as he steadily applied attention to the spots he deemed needed it most. It felt almost fevered, but somehow hotter than even that, and he had to keep himself from wincing when he thought about how much it must have been hurting her for this entire time. If he had known, Alistair never would have let her come out with them to collect water.

“Sweet Andraste, Shae, why didn’t you say anything?” The ointment applied, he began carefully working it into her skin, and tried desperately not to think about how often he had imagined doing something like this. Her beauty marks seemed to jeer at him, coming in and out of view as his palms passed along the planes of her back. Strong and sturdy, but somehow stately. Like the stocky war horses Eamon kept at the stables. 

Though, even with his abysmal experience, Alistair knew better than to share that thought aloud. Not unless he wanted a sunburnt fist to the face, at least. 

Shaesa shrugged. “Because I’m stubborn and ox-headed?” she suggested. 

A grin pulled at his lips. “I was thinking ‘prouder than one of those prissy, Orlesian lap cats.’” An elbow was driven into his stomach, rightfully so. He barked a laugh. “And catty too. Clearly.”

The woman in front of him snorted, but even from where he stood behind her, he could see the way her ears flexed as she smiled. “Careful. I might be sunburned, but it doesn’t mean I won’t still throw you on your ass, Alistair.”

“I would be a fool to forget it,” he agreed, taking no pains to hide the warmth of affection in his voice when he said it. 

His hands rounded her shoulders, gliding up the curve of her neck before dropping back down to pass over the length of her arms. And it would be a lie to say that he didn’t revel a bit in the way she shivered as he did it. Maybe…

“Alright,” he said, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “You have been properly attended to, my Lady. At least well enough to withstand Wynne’s lectures once she finds out about this when we return.” 

Shaesa stiffly bent to pick up her jacket and, seeing her struggle to maneuver her arms into the sleeves, Alistair helped her into it. She picked at it irritably, pulling at the spots that stuck to her from the salve. “Thank you,” she said at last. “That admittedly feels much better.” 

He grinned. “Just doing my duty to solidify my place as ‘Most Useful Companion’.” 

“Well seeing as how you saved my life from Zevran’s dubious intentions and sun poisoning, I would say you’re off to a pretty good start,” she hummed. “A few more months, and maybe you’ll begin to catch up with Fen.”

“Ouch,” he hissed, clutching at his chest in mock-pain. But he could not fight the smile on his face. She began to turn towards the road, and gladly he followed. “I’m losing to the one who licks his own arse in his downtime?”

“Hey– I don’t see you guarding my tent at night.”

“I could,” he offered, too quickly. He only realized what it sounded like after he said it. “...If that was what you wanted.”

But to either his relief or disappointment, she simply snorted. “Now you’re sounding like Zevran.” 

“Oh, so we’re using real insults now?” he shot back. 

She laughed, shaking her head. It really was such a pretty sound.

“But maybe,” she said, letting her eyes flick up to his playfully. He almost didn’t catch it. 

Ahead of them, the brush began to thin, and Alistair could see the road, and the tree beyond where Zevran was undoubtedly still waiting, his arms folded beneath his head where he lay stretched out like an alley cat.

“Maybe…?” he echoed distractedly. His gaze touched hers in confusion.

She grinned brightly, and the smile stretched all the way to the corners of her eyes. And, to Alistair’s utter shock, she actually winked at him. 

“Maybe.”

[the-lark-ascending69]

Headcanons about Nancy and Robin talking about Barb?

I actually have a very very specific scenario in mind set in my comphet robin/monster hunter AU, in which Nancy is responsible to look out for Robin, who's under Vecna's curse - but that doesn't mean she needs to be with her 24/7 (which is a relief to both of them, because they don't really like each other at this point). BUT, for some reason, one night Robin decides to make it her goal to annoy Nancy as much as possible, or at least that's how Nancy feels like, because she keeps following her and tagging along everywhere she goes, just talking her ear off even though Nancy has plans that night, plans that don't involve Robin, and would much prefer it if Robin just went home.

Anyway, as Nancy walks and Robin follows her, they find themselves at the door of a hourse Robin doesn't recognize, and Nancy tells her to leave one more time before knocking.

But then the door opens, and it's Mrs. Holland there. Nancy was to have dinner with them that night. She's been having dinner with them every saturday night for the past two years, ever since Barb's body was found.

And Nancy expects Robin to finally leave her alone, now that she's joining the Hollands - but then Mrs. Holland inhales and says:

"Robin? Dear, is that you?"

Nancy freezes, mind racing, wondering from where could Mrs. Holland possibly know Robin from.

"Um. Hi, Marsha," Robin mumbles.

"Oh, Robin! It's been so long. Please, come in! It's always nice to see Barb's friends."

So Robin ends up awkwardly joining them, much to Nancy's confusion. She and Barb hadn't really talked ever since they were... twelve? But here she was - not in the house in which she'd spent a great deal of her childhood, drawing and listening to music and infodumping with Barb for hours on end - no, this was a new, smaller house, but with far more pictures of Barb than the old one. Barb's parents are so happy to see her, or the closest thing to happy one can be when you lose a daughter. They reminisce about Barb's childhood with her - how they used to make fun of boys and how they were both so smart and loved to read together, how they held hands everywhere they went and how they played all sorts of games in the playground and the old house's backyard. It's uncomfortable for Robin at first, but then she begins to feel really sad, becuse she remembers thinking Barb had just ran away, but she was dead. Dead, dead, dead. Gone forever. She would never see her childhood best friend again. She tears up a little. She tells them that, even though she hasn't spoken to Barb in years, she treasures every memory she had with her, and even knowing how everything ended, could she travel to the pas she would be her friend again, because every second of their friendship was worth it.

Here's a small scene I have in my WIPS:

“Yeah, I mean, Barb and I were weird as hell.” Nancy put her glass down  “What Robin means to say is that… she and Barb had a really unique friendship.” “No, that's not what I mean.” Robin shook her head. “Barb and I were freaks. We were weird. Like… Nance, why are you kicking me? Stop that. Anyway, I once found a weird slug in the grass and Barb helped me figure out what the heck it was, and we kept it in a jar for like a week. We took it to school every day in secret and we showed it to everyone because we thought having a slug pet named Neil Armstrong would make us really cool. And when dumbass kids made fun of us - Barb wouldn't even care. Like, I kept hiding Neil Armstrong in my hoodie because I didn't want to be known as the Slug Girl but Barb… she just shrugged. Like I distinctly remember her shugging when they called her Slug Girl. It was a full body shrug, like the intensity with which she did not care had overcome her entire being. She was way beyond all of us. No one even held a candle to her. She was authentic. Not fake authentic, like, being pretentious just for the sake of being pretentious and stuff. She was herself, utterly and wholly and I - I don't think I ever met anyone else like that.”

Nancy is... tense when they leave. Robin says goodbye to Barb's parents with a big long hug, and then Nancy walks back to where she left her car, before Robin intercepted her. They climb inside.

"They sold their house," she said. "To pay for a... private investigator who could tell them who killed Barb." Robin felt something in her gut drop, like a piece of wet cement falling from the walls of her stomach. "I didn't know that." Nancy adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. "They hired someone who would ruin their life, with the amount they charged. All to tell them what I already know." Who killed Barb, by breaking her arms, her legs, her jaw, sucking in her eyes. Robin remembered the ticking clock and shuddered. "I'm assuming you have a very good reason not to tell them." "It would put them in danger." Nancy said. She pressed her lips together. Looked down, then back up again. "So instead, I let them ruin their lives all over again." Robin observed her - the bags under her eyes, the mess that was her hair, the broken skin around her nails from picking and biting. "Nance," she said. "You know it wasn't your fault, right?" Nancy stares ahead, unmoved. The street was dark and silent. "I'll be droping you at your house, now," she said. "Call me if you have any headaches, or if you have a nosebleed or just... see something." Robin nodded. "Alright."

Next time they talk about Barb it's... well, it's complicated. I don't have anything written for it, but I know it'll be a lot, because they talk about a lot of things - there's Nancy's survivor's guilt, there's Robin feeling like a burden, and most importantly, Nancy confessing she was in love with Barb, and that thinks she died because she was so scared of it that she rushed to sleep with a boy, when she should've been looking out for her. So forgive her if she's not going to run away from her feelings for Barb, now. Last time she did, it got her killed. If maybe she hadn't been so cowardly, Barb may have lived, and she misses her so much today, she has so much love inside of her with nowhere to go, that she can't keep pretending she didn't love her anymore.

It shakes Robin to her core - this is comphet!Robin after all, she's in a whole different wavelength and she's frozen from hearing Nancy talk - but it does put some things into perspective.

Next time they talk about Barb, it's less dramatic. They couldn't sleep, so they're having some tea at midnight, and it's Robin who starts - tells her about she and Barb's childhood mischief. Or rather, her own mischief, with Barb behind her keeping her out of trouble. Nancy's lips twitch into a tiny smile. "Sounds just like Barb," she says. "Between her and me, she was always the sensible one."

They exchange anecdotes - Robin tells Nancy about Barb's childhood, and Nancy tells her about her teenage years (Robin can't help but notice, in Nancy's words and tone, just how deeply her love runs. How she mentions the little things. How she found each small gesture so endearing and precious). Together, it's like they're putting together a tapestry of who Barb was, the whole of her, and at the same time, they get closer to her. Despite her absence, they get to know Barb better. Nancy cries, because how could she not? But they're not entirely sad tears. She's happy, too, because she hasn't felt this close to Barb in years.

They visit her grave together one time. Nancy brings her flowers, and she sits on the ground and talks to her. She tells her about her day and how the world of the living is doing, and about her old friend, Robin, whom she supposes is now their friend. Robin isn't as sure of what to say, so she just says they both miss her, and that she'll take care of Nancy now, the same way Nancy takes care of her.

She holds Nancy's hand, in hopes it'll be comforting. Nancy squeezes back.