#side note but I’m in that slump where I feel like everything I make sucks so that’s fun 🤭

[gummy-sharks666]

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War IIII

Author's Note: I hit a massive writer's slump, thank you for all your patience! Have some Smut, as a treat!

Content Warnings: SMUT with Some Plot I Swear--Masturbation, I guess there's kinda a hint of hate-fucking here but only if you squint, Exhibitionism, Thigh Riding (it's always the hands and thighs of this man I swear it's all I think about); Canon Typical Violence, Character Death (Unnamed), Mentions of Starvation/Abuse.

Summary: Reader grapples with her feelings towards Rhysand and what she has to do to save her people.

Previous Chapter/ Masterlist

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Rhysand is the enemy. His hands have spilled the blood of thousands of innocents. He’s most likely torturing people as we speak. He. Is. The. Enemy.

So why do I lie awake, hours after he’s gone, still thinking about how his hands had felt on my skin? Why do I lay here, tracing the path his lips had taken down my throat and collarbones, around my chest and sides, imagining what might have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted?

He is the enemy. I plan to seduce and destroy him. I will make him pay for all the pain he has caused me and my people.

But who is supposed to tell my body that everything that happened tonight isn’t real? That it’s all part of the plan to get him to let his guard down, I’m not actively interested in sleeping with him. I’m not! 

It’s just that I haven’t slept with anybody in a long time--that has to be it right? What other explanation do I have for the lingering ache between my legs? For the wandering thoughts of what those hands might have felt like between my thighs?

Every time I close my eyes I replay that moment: The feel of his warm body atop mine, callused hands roaming my skin, lips sucking marks into my throat. Gods I let Rhysand give me hickeys!

I’m going to die of shame.

If the need boiling in the pit of my stomach doesn’t take me out first.

I absolutely refuse to do anything about it! I won’t. Selling my soul to get information is one thing, to try and get off while imagining my enemy is a whole other evil. I can’t! It’s all kinds of fucked up.

I think there might actually be something wrong with me, because the more I try and tell myself it’s wrong, the more wetness I feel between my legs, the tighter the coil in my belly grows. My body actively wants something my brain refuses to let me acknowledge, and so I lay there in a bed that smells so much like him, trying to keep my hands off my still bare skin. I should, at the very least, get up and find where Rhysand had thrown my sweater. He’ll get the wrong idea if he comes back to find me still topless in bed. The middle of the night’s a hard time to get information out of anyone, there’s no reason to try and pick up where we left off tonight. I should just go to sleep.

I pull the pillow over my head and try to imagine all the gruesome, brutal ways he’s probably torturing his captives so I’m no longer laying here thinking about his body. It should work like an ice bath, right? But my mind will not linger on thoughts of blood, only how hot he’d looked scrubbing it off those swirls of ink around his bare chest earlier.

He’s going to be the death of me!

It’s like I can’t escape him. The scent of him is all over the bed, no matter where I lay or how many blankets I shift around. His touch lingers on my skin, the more I try to fight it, the more I find my hands trying to replicate the feeling. I roll my nipple between my fingers, imagining the feel of his calluses against my sensitive peaks. My other hand slides down my stomach, slipping easily beneath the worn waistband of my pants.

This is wrong!

I pull my hand away with a groan. I cannot be doing this.

He is the enemy.

I am doing the seducing. Not him. Me! And I have to have more willpower than this. I can’t be so Cauldron damned horny that a couple kisses gets me this worked up! Seriously, how does one male have this much sway over me already?

I can fight this. I am stronger than this…

I make it all of five minutes before my hand is once again sliding beneath my waistband, tracing its way down to the pool of wetness gathering between my thighs. 

He is the enemy.

Yet he would have found no resistance if he stayed. I would have easily surrendered under his touch, let it ignite a wildfire beneath my skin until I’d willingly spread my legs and let him take whatever he needed from my body. I hate the very thought of it, but I know, as my hips buck feverishly against my own hand, that I would have done it. 

“Rhys,” the whimper slips past my lips before I can bite it down, pleasure licking white hot down my spine. I’m too far gone to even be mortified at this point, chasing that high while my imagination runs wild with all the things that might have been tonight. 

It’s unfair that the sheets smell so strongly of him, only fueling my imagination, all the way to the edge of such jarring bliss. Only then does my body finally relax, my thoughts satiated for now. I can be mortified in the morning. Surely, I’ll hate myself in the light of day, but tonight, tonight I’m exhausted and I finally feel comfortable enough to sleep.

----

My dreams are full of my people hurling rocks at me, chasing me out of the Grasslands, calling me a traitor and a whore, Tam telling me never to come back; I try to visit my parents grave, but can never find it, as even in death they cannot bear to be near me.  The guilt I feel upon waking is worse than I imagined it could be. How could I be doing this? How could I want it?

The guilt  makes my skin itch. Every bit of me feels like it needs to be scrubbed down to the bone. I climb out of the bed and go to the basin of water to attempt to get clean. There’s a small mirror hanging from a string against the wall, the worn glass giving a spotty view of the bruises across my throat. I’d let Rhysand give me, not just one, but four hickeys, trailing down past my collarbone. There might have been more were it not for my appearance. I trail the damp towel down my torso, fingers ticking against my ribs like piano keys. I’m so godsdamned thin. It’s not unusual, most of my people are, save for Tamlin and his riders--riders always get first dibs on supplies, the rest of us get the scraps, especially when we haven’t been claimed--but I’d never thought about how bad it might look to someone outside of camp. With the scars I bear from my father’s temper, this looks intentional.

I glance up at the circles under my eyes, my reflection in the mirror hollow as a chill runs through me. Supplies have been thin lately, but… Dear old Dad had intentionally withheld supplies from the un-marked in camp as an incentive to get them to bend the knee, Tam knew that, was trained to do it, and he’d been so miserable lately, it wasn’t intentional, right?

I give myself a shake. Tam’s cold even on his good days, but he’d never intentionally do that to me, no matter how unruly I’ve been in the last couple weeks before this mess. Lucien would always sneak me snacks for him on days he was too busy to come see me; I’m just being paranoid. Being here is messing with my brain.

I toss the dirty towel in a bin and untie my hair. There’s no brushes around so I use my fingers to comb through the knots and tie it loosely behind my head. It’s only when I’m done and half way into my discarded sweater that the tent flap blows open and Mor storms her way in.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” She says by way of greeting.

How is she so perky all the time?

There’s a large bag in her hands that she hurls at me with surprising strength. “Time to get dressed! We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

“What’s the occasion?” I should feel excited with the prospect of getting out there and getting new information, but what are the chances we’re going right to Rhysand? How am I supposed to look at him after last night? No I think it’s for the better if I just sit right here in this tent and continue to torture myself with my thoughts. 

“Dress first, talk second,” she returns, hands reaching to help untie the bag since I’m moving too slow for her liking. Bits of dark cloth poke out, the bottom of the bag heavy and lumpy in a way that makes me think I’m holding a pair of shoes. 

Mor pulls out a top, the material as dark as her own, though hers has sleeves, this has none, just a band across my torso. The inside is lined with fur at least. I don’t even have time to question it before she starts pulling the other stuff out and rushing me to get dressed. There’s a moment where I think she might actually start undressing me if I don’t start moving, so I dip behind the bed for some privacy, clothes bundled under my arm. 

The skirt 's more loose fabric cinched around my hips than an actual skirt, nearly all my legs on display. I stare at the vast expanse of my skin and then up at Mor. “Please tell me there’s pants to go with these?” I don’t want to sound ungrateful since my clothes are barely holding on as is, but I also really don’t want to be walking around camp mostly naked either. 

“You’ve got nice legs,” she says, eyes roving over me approvingly. “You’ll look hot.”

“I feel naked,” I retort.

“You’ll adjust. Now hurry up!”

The top is warm but it leaves my arms bare, and even the fur lined ankle boots don’t keep me as warm as I would be if I had a pair of pants. “I really don’t want to sound ungrateful-”

“No time for second thoughts, you’re committed to it now.” Mor interrupts, ushering me over to the mirror again to adjust my hair. 

Her delicate fingers brush over my throat as she works and she grins at me in the reflection of the mirror. “Have some fun last night, did we?”

A blush makes its way across my cheeks. “Well, um…”

She laughs as she braids, blue eyes twinkling as she continues to watch my reflection. “I see now why he picked this top. Gotta show everyone your his.” Mor rolls her eyes. “Males! Always so territorial. Though, if I were you, I’d give him a few back in return.”

“Why do I have competition?” I blurt out. That’s a stupid question to ask. Look at him! Of course I’d have competition. But, despite myself, a flicker of jealousy worms its way into my chest.

“Oh there’s quite a few people in camp who’d literally kill to be you,” she returns as she pins my hair to the top of my haid. Using her fingers, she pulls a few loose strands free to frame my face. “He’s been eligible for a long time now.”

“How come?” I ask as she grabs my shoulders and turns me around so she can apply some dark makeup under my eyes.

The amusement in her eyes fades a bit as she says, “His wife…” She clears her throat and turns away to find where she left a tube of lip color. “Feyre. She was killed a couple years ago by Amarantha.”

My breath catches in my throat, chest heavy with the thought. “Oh.”

“He’s been a ghost since she died,” Mor gives herself a little shake as she turns back with the color and dabs a bit of maroon on my lips. “I’ve watched all these females throw themselves at him and it’s like he can’t see them. Usually the males in my family move on quick, you know? Gotta keep the bed warm somehow, right?”

I nod, having seen it well enough back home. 

“But Rhys…” she sighs. “I thought Rhys died that day too, but now you’re here and I can see a little life in his eyes again. I didn’t think that was possible.”

Gods the guilt is coming back! I should be glad that this monster got a fraction of the pain he caused others inflicted on him, but instead, my heart only aches for him, as if I can feel that pain in my own chest. The female he loved was dead and the monster that killed her was once again knocking on his doorstep. No wonder he’d asked for a distraction last night! And I’d planned to take advantage of that vulnerability.

My stomach turns. 

Mor grips my hands tightly. “I’m glad you’re here. I think he needs you, ya know?”

Please, Mother, kill me! Strike me with lightning or let the ground open up and swallow me. I am a horrible, terrible person.

“You’re too kind, Mor, really I don’t think-” but she doesn’t let me finish as she gives herself a little shake to collect herself and starts ushering me towards the door.

“Now we gotta hurry! We’re gonna be late!”

The early morning light rushes to meet us, such a stark contrast to the darkness of the tent. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, her hand on my wrist leading me along, oblivious to how blind I am. Once I can finally see, I try to take stock of my surroundings and get my bearings. The set-up is a semi-circle of tents, all open and bustling with activity. Fae of all shape and sizes hurry from their tents, the males wearing fighting leathers, the females wearing variations of my own get-up. No one even glances our way, save for the lone male stalking towards us. He’s massive, a head taller than everyone he passes, a giant sword strapped between his tightly tucked wings. I recognize the sword as one I’d seen on one of Rhysand’s riders, though I hadn’t gotten a chance to glimpse his face then. He’s handsome, his dark hair tied back out of his face with a long string. A bit of stubble dusts his jaw, barely hiding a scar that cuts his way across his cheek. 

“Y/N, this is Cassian,” Mor introduces, no trace of her earlier seriousness to be found. She is once again all smiles. “He’s Rhys’s general.”

General. He certainly looks the part. He could crush my head with his biceps alone if he wanted! 

I don’t know how to move in these stupid skirts, let alone curtsey or bow in any sort of way as I would have back home so all I can manage is to dip my head in greeting. “Hello.” I hope it's enough to not offend this hulking mass of a male.

Despite his size, an easy-going grin cuts across his face. “Glad to officially meet you, Y/N!” His voice booms, even under the din of the rushing crowd. “We should get moving, he’s waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” I ask Mor, wrapping my arms around myself as a breeze hits me head on.

“You didn’t tell her?” Cassian returns.

“He told me not to,” Mor retorts as she loops her arm through mine to help lead me forward. 

This is not instilling anything but anxiety in me, but this is my chance to look around  so I have to take it. Not that the cold helps. It’s an effort to try and count the tents as my teeth start chattering. 

We follow the crowd down the hill, past a set of sentries that guard the path at the bottom as we head into the main encampment. Some of the people around whisper to each other in a mixture of languages, but there is too much moving and noise for me to get a good grasp on what’s being said. Mor doesn’t say anything either, just keeps one arm looped in mine and the other in Cassian’s to keep us from getting separated.

Once inside the main encampment, past another set of sentires, the path splits and becomes rows of tents, laid out like city streets. I’ve never seen a camp look so methodically laid out, each space like a well groomed and planned street. There are even amounts of tents on each side, firepits and places to sit breaking up the road between them. It’s all very homey and… permanent. A spike of envy rises in my chest as I take it in. This is not a camp that ups and moves frequently. It is settled and intentional in its spacing. It might not be the cities the Night Court once boasted in the days before Hybern, but it is still far more a city than the Grasslands had ever seen. I try to count them as we pass, but lose my train of thought after fifty, when the road starts to thin and people push in around us from every direction. I will have to get back another time and recount. 

The path continues forward, for some time, growing smaller and smaller until we come to a standstill. Mor huffs something about being late as we’re forced to wait under the rising sun as whatever is ahead of us gets closer, one step at a time. Eventually, a large amphitheater comes into view, set deep into the ground like a giant, stone step flanked pit. It must have taken months to dig this deep, let alone shape the stones into such smooth edges. How long has this encampment been here? 

It takes what feels like an hour to reach the flat edge at the top where holes have been drilled into it so that banners can be held aloft, each massive pole waving a different flag. There are multiple Night Court black flags, the shimmering triple stars over matching mountains, but there are others too: Twin Wyverns chasing each other’s tales, their golden maws open and ready to snatch and eat the other; A set of bat-like wings open and extended across a crimson flag, an eight point star at its center. Under each banner, crowded atop the steps are fae of all shapes and sizes, all separated into sections, their clothes matching the color of the banner they sit or stand under. I’ve never seen anything like it. I want to take a second to take it in but I can’t focus on any of it. Not when, at the heart of the pit, standing over two bound figures, is the male that claims to be my mate.

My breath hitches in my chest when I see him. 

He is the enemy. 

This is the male that stormed into our camp all those years ago, this is the male that slaughtered my people in cold blood. Any warmth I had ever seen in those, nearly glowing, violet eyes is gone, only cold indifference remains. Atop his raven hair sits an obsidian crown, the pointed centerpiece glittering with three gems in the center, a nod to the stars marked on the arm of every person crammed into the amphitheater. He wears fighting leathers, but not the ones he’d worn into battle, these are all black, polished to a shine in the early morning light. And his wings! By the Cauldron, I’ve never paid so much attention to anything as I watch the massive membrane flare out behind him, decorated in swirling patterns of violet and blue ink, the patterns a twin to the tattoos that circle over his exposed biceps. He looks every bit a Lord. No, every bit a Dark Prince. Wisps of darkness slither off his shoulders, twining over his fingertips, dancing around his hips and thighs. I feel the power of him in my veins as Cassian leads us down the steps.

No one pays us any mind as we pass, their attention and anger, judging by the shouts they throw, are all honed at the males kneeling at Rhysand’s feet. They’ve been stripped down to their underthings, bare chests slashed with even, precise lines of a blade, the blood long since dried. Both have short, dark hair and eyes so black it looks like all pupil. There are more slashes beneath their eyes, the marks fresher than the others, a few droplets of blood dripping down their cheeks like tears. 

Cassian leads us to the bottom row, where I recognize the shadowy figure of Azriel, saving us a spot. The other male stands with his arms crossed over his chest, the dagger he’d been spinning in his hands last night now safely strapped to his thigh. I shiver as he puts a hand on my back to motion me into a seat between him and Cassian, with Mor squeezing her way in between him and I so we remain together. The shouting of the crowd grows louder with each passing second, the volume and anger making my hair stand on end. I find myself reaching out for Mor’s hands, huddled beside her for both warmth and protection. 

Up until this point, Rhysand has been pacing, hands clasped behind his back, wings flaring behind him. Only once I’m seated does his gaze flick to me, eyes roving over my new attire and I hate the flutter in my stomach the look brings me. I should want him to be looking at me like that, but after what Mor had said, after what I’d done once he’d left… I look away quickly, torn more than ever on what I’m supposed to do here. 

I feel, more than see, the little smirk he gets as his eyes linger on the marks he’d left on my throat, but am spared from any more thoughts about last night when he finally looks away to address the crowd. It’s first in Illyrian, then in Basic. The change in languages makes his voice deeper, huskier; I’m more drawn to it than I’d like to be. Many things about the male are attractive, I’m not so blinded by disdain for him that I don’t notice them, his voice among the top qualities. There are quite a few females around me who lean forward in their seats, enraptured with his every word. It’s almost distracting enough that I forget there are two bound men at his feet.

Almost. My eyes flick to them. Their wounds are precise, methodical, not so deep it’ll kill them, but not so shallow it doesn’t hurt. They keep their heads to their chest as Rhysand speaks, dark eyes darting around for an escape. They say Amarantha’s men are worse monsters than the Illyrians, but they certainly don’t look terrifying now. They’re scrawny, like someone had plucked them off the street, no scars upon their skin to reveal any past battle wounds. I can’t decide if that means they’ve never seen a battle until now or if Amarantha’s fighting men have such an advantage that they’ve never been injured in one. 

“Amarantha thinks that she can do whatever she wants,” Rhysand’s voice booms across the amphitheater, the worn stones trembling beneath us. Darkness mists off his body, violet eyes glowing like starlight in his tan face. “But Hybern and his General have no power here!”

The crowd roars in agreement, some of the fighting men on their feet now, stamping the butts of their spears against the ground. 

“These are our lands!”

My ears ring under the din of the crowd. Mor grips my hand a little tighter to keep me steady. At least she’d been right about one thing: The amount of bodies packed into here makes the cold a little bearable, but I press as close to her as I can all the same. 

“We have bled and died for it!” Rhysand continues. “And we proved last night that we are not to be underestimated! We proved that if Amarantha thinks she can come here and take what is rightfully ours, that there will be blood to pay!”

A shiver runs up my spine as he speaks. Not just at what he says, but the truth of it. There is no mourning here. The injured in the crowd are few--only a handful of males sport bandages, no blood seeping through the white linen as if even the wounds that had landed were superficial and healing, not the open, bleeding mess I’m so used to seeing--and he’d said last night that his men had no casualties. Not only were their numbers greater than I had anticipated, but their powers are far beyond what we feared they were. Rhysand himself is a living testament to that. There isn’t anyone among us who doesn’t feel the reverberations of his power in our veins. His darkness doesn’t just flow from him, it ebbs into us, brushes against every person present like it’s introducing itself to us one by one. I don’t need to see him in battle to know that he can easily blow Amarantha’s men away by himself. He won’t even need an army.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Am I prepared to go up against a one man army?

“And we will make sure that is a lesson that bitch never forgets!” Rhysand roars as stars glitter around his outstretched hand, twinning between his fingers. His wings flair out behind him, the apex talons at the tip growing sharper, the violet of his eyes deepening, I swear I see fangs forming in his mouth. He’s not just powerful, he’s something wholly other.

The crowd jumps to its feet demanding the heads of the two males bound before them, and their Lord obliges, using a glittering trail of starlight to separate their heads from their shoulders, blood splatter across the stones. 

Rhysand lifts their heads up by the hair, admiring his work with nothing but pure satisfaction as he calls Azriel over to him. “Why don’t you deliver these to their doorstep?”

The shadowy figure of Azriel doesn’t even break stride as he grabs the heads from his lord and vanishes into shadow with them.

Interesting, so they know where Amarantha’s camp is? Tam had never been able to track her. Or maybe he’d never tried. 

Rhysand flicks the blood off his hands as he looks to the crowd and says, “We can expect a swift response, so let us be ready.”

A shiver runs down my spine at the thought. He can’t really be trying to take on Amarantha, can he?

“Bring all your un-marked forward, let us ensure the protection of those within our borders before we prepare to strengthen outside it.”

Shit!

I’d forgotten about that part. Why else would this outfit they’d dressed me up in not have sleeves unless they needed to mark me? It should have been obvious from the beginning but I’ve been so in my head I haven’t even stopped to think about the reasons behind all this. 

Mor grabs my arm gently, but I feel the strength hidden behind it regardless. She thinks I might try and run. Truth be told, I want to. How am I supposed to go home with Rhysand’s mark? Even if I manage to get all their numbers and weaknesses, that mark is permanent. It might literally be the signature on my death warrant, no matter what information I take home.

But it also puts me right in the middle of all important matters here. Rhysand said he wanted me to ride out with him. The things I could see if I do that! I’d know how many fighting men he has, would learn battle strategies and weak points, all things no one back home has ever been able to touch. 

Thankfully, Mor helps me stand, my shoes feel like they're full of sand. Even if I’m ready to face Rhysand, am I ready to face Tamlin when this is all said and done? 

Around me, males and females all step forward. A few struggle against it, having to be pulled down into the center of the amphitheater, others go alone, heads high. They’ll have to go through the blood littering the floor to get there, which is clever on Rhysand’s part. Swearing fealty here, after blood has been spilled makes this oath all the more magically binding. We’re all entered into a blood oath without spilling any of our own to do it. 

I let Mor lead me forward, despite every instinct to run. I will be closer than anyone to Rhysand. I can give my people the chance they deserve at having a good life. Maybe, when this is all said and done, this walled in haven could be a place we could call home, safe from war and hunger. I can ensure our future, all I have to do is damn myself to do it.

And put this male through more misery. The image of him last night, the dark circles around his eyes flashes across my mind and I have to give myself a little shake to rid myself of it. I can’t let one tragedy sway me, how many tragedies has he himself caused? 

My chest aches, I rub absently at it like that might relieve the tension. He is the enemy. I have to keep telling myself that, over and over, until it’s ingrained into my very thought process. One loss cannot compare to what he has put us through. I have to think about all the lives I will save instead of the one he has lost. 

It takes so much time for me to convince myself that I am capable of doing this that I genuinely miss everyone’s else’s pledge to Rhysand. By the time I am settled and ready to raise my head again, it’s just me and him, and a river of spilled blood between us. A fitting meeting ground I suppose. 

Mor gives my arm one last squeeze before she slips into Cassian’s arms and I swear the whole world centers in to just me and the massive Illyrian before me. He looks even more a dark prince up close.

“Hello, mate,” he purrs.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Don’t throw up here, don’t throw up in front of all these people.

Rhysand leans in close enough for me to smell the citrus and jasmine scent of him, the heady fragrance invading all my senses like it's trying to carve itself into veins. I’ve never been more aware of his size compared to mine. “Kneel,” his voice is a lover's caress, made for the gentle darkness of the bedroom. “Take my mark, so that you’ll have our full protection, and then you and I can have some fun.”

Those violet eyes flick to my bruised throat, his fangs biting into his lower lip as he admires his work and heat rushes through me. I want to play, just as readily as I had last night, maybe more. 

I tear my gaze away first. There’s no going back from this. 

My heartbeat is a clanging gong in my ears, breath a heavy rasp that tears from my throat as I lower myself onto my knees. The rough stones bite into my exposed flesh; the blood now cold against my skin. 

Rhysand reaches out to touch my cheek, thumb stroking over my skin as he nods encouragingly. His touch makes me think of last night, and what I had done in the aftermath of having those hands on me. I’d managed to not think about it until now, but now that the thought is here, I can’t stop it anymore than I could last night. Heat licks its way up my spine. 

He is the enemy. I am not supposed to feel like this while on my knees, I am supposed to hate him. I really need to pull it together.

“I-” Am I even capable of separating myself from what I want and need to do here? I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want his hands on my body. It’s not supposed to be like this!

“I swear fealty to you, My Lord.” Am I supposed to say something flowery? Make some grand gesture? I never really paid that much attention during these things, I’d spent most of my time trying to figure out how to get out of them, not into one.

The words are barely out of my mouth before I feel a tingling sensation shoot its way up my arm, from fingertips to shoulder. It’s not painful, feels like my arm fell asleep and lost feeling, even though I still have all my motor functions. When I glance down at the source of the discomfort, a band of ink colored darkness spreads across my skin. It moves in swirling patterns across my bicep, twisting and twining until the familiar pattern of triple stars makes itself clear among the ink. We brand people with an iron in the Grasslands, this magic tattoo is a new sight for me.

Rhysand takes my hand and helps me to my feet before I can even think about reaching out a hand to feel the new piece of me. I don’t even have time to feel guilty about it either, not when he’s crashing his lips against mine, the hunger he feels palpable as his hand slides into my hair. 

The crowd whoops and hollers, reminding me that they’re even there. I’d truly forgotten about them up until now. 

His other hand still strokes my face as he pulls away just enough to say, “I swear, no harm will come to you under our watch.” 

Lofty promises I’m sure, but with the crowd pressing in, now that the spectacle is over, there is not much time to dwell on it either. The next couple of minutes pass in a blur as we all shift from the amphitheater to a mess tent full of benches and long tables full of food and drink.

Rhysand hasn’t let go of my hand, not even at Mor’s insistence that she should get to show me around. The mark might as well be a rope tied around our wrists, dragging me along beside him as he greets various soldiers and sentries. 

The heat of the room soon makes me forget I was ever cold in the first place, a sheen of sweat clinging to my skin the longer we linger. 

In the back center of the tent is the seat of honor, it alone has a single table, everyone else crowds into each other, clambering for seats with no real order. The fighting men mingle with the elders and children and maids alike; the armored sentries dumping their helmets on the tables, the horse hair plumes drifting over the worn wood, holding spots next to the seats of scantily dressed dancers. 

As everyone finds their seats, serving girls start bringing in the food and drink, until all the tables are full of dozens of dishes I can’t name. My stomach rumbles as Rhysand leads me along, an arm looped around my waist like he thinks I might slip away at any moment. He hasn’t stopped touching me since his mark wrote its way across my right arm; a good thing for my plan, I suppose, but I my mind won’t stop narrowing in on the way his fingers dance over my hip bone or the strength of his arms around me. To some degree, I feel small next to him, but not in a way I can convince myself I hate. Not in the way I had felt small back home. 

It’s not long before Rhysand claims this would-be throne and before I can ask where I should disappear to, the warlord is gripping me by the hips and pulling me into his lap! My brain short circuits, all rational thought flying out the window.

He slots one powerful thigh between my, very exposed, legs the scrape of his leathers against my bare skin enough to make my whole body shiver. He’s all sleek muscle, body chiseled from riding and fighting and it is not as if I hadn’t noticed--especially after last night--but I’d never been so aware of him before.

His breath is warm over the shell of my ear as he leans in to whisper, “Now we can play, Darling.”

Here?! Cauldron he’s really going to be the death of me! And rationally I know the more people see us together, the easier it will be for me to maneuver and get information, but it is very hard to think rationally when I can feel so many eyes watching my every move.

Rhysand brushes his nose over the juncture of my neck and shoulder, the soft waves of his dark hair a contrast to the harsh flash of teeth he brushes against my skin a moment later. My heart thunders in my chest, heat rushing to my cheeks. I’ve lost sight of Mor and Cassian, though I doubt they’d be stupid enough to interrupt, let alone save me.

Rhysand sucks a new mark into my neck as he trails a hand up my exposed thigh and the notion that I need to be saved leaves me. This is what I had hoped would happen last night--what I had tried so hard to pretend I didn’t want. The crowd starts to blur in my vision, the only people here are the two of us as he gets closer and closer to the apex of my thighs.  

He is the enemy. Yet, my head falls back on his shoulder as both his lips and his hands trail higher. Every move is warm and calculating and my body is so eager to surrender. I tell myself this is part of the plan, part of the game, but my body doesn’t care about any of that. It just wants more of him.

His hand stills at the pathetic excuse of a covering the skirt offers, thumb stroking against the inside of my thigh. My breath hitches in my throat.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says softly in my ear. “I’ll make it up to you.”

I think I might actually be so pathetic that I’d beg for it, body squirming under his grip in search of more friction. I’ve never been more acutely aware of the ache between my legs. More so when I find myself grinding my hips down, unabashedly, against his thigh in front of all these people, the scrape of his leathers a heady friction that makes me bite down on my lower lip. 

He chuckles in my ear at my neediness, the sound so rich and deep it only further ignites the heat in my lower belly. If he is supposed to be the enemy, why is his whole body made for such pleasurable sin? There isn’t an inch of him that couldn’t be used to turn me on.

“It’s… it’s ok,” what even are words? “This was important.”

He hums as if thinking, fingers still stroking idle patterns into the tender flesh of my thigh. He’s so close to where I want him. 

“Thank you for being understanding,” he says softly. He sounds about as fragile as he had looked last night and that pang in my chest is back. “I can’t… I can’t risk it, not again, not with you. My mark will guarantee your protection, even if I am not physically here. You’re safe, and you’ll stay that way.”

I slowly raise my hand back, until I can thread my fingers through his hair and he leans his whole head into my touch. “No one’s ever really looked out for me before,” I whisper. Not a lie and not part of this game, but something that slips right out of me before I can trap it behind my teeth. 

“Never again,” he vows.

Perhaps if there wasn’t so much blood between us, I could believe him. 

I can’t take the words back, and I hate that we constantly end up more vulnerable than I thought we could be, I need to get this back on track. The less vulnerable I can keep things between us, the better. All I need to do is keep his focus on what we’d been doing. The more he’s thinking about my body, the less he’s looking at what I’m doing--and the less guilty I will feel. 

 I grind my hips back against him, trying to regain control of the situation, the obvious proof of his own arousal pressing into my ass. 

He hisses, even as he nips at the underside of my jaw. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“You did say you’d make it up to me,” I tease in return, scraping my nails playfully along his scalp. 

“I did,” he muses. “Though I was thinking about doing it after we eat.”

“Liar,” I retort. 

His hand finally, blissfully, snakes higher, dipping beneath my skirts. “See, I was planning on making it up to you with my tongue-”

All thought eddies from my mind as his fingers stroke over my core, heat licking its way up my spine. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from making a sound.

“But if my hand is what you’d prefer, I’ll happily give it to you.” He slides a finger into the budding wetness between my legs, testing to see how much I can take. “That’s what you were thinking about last night, right?”

I freeze and he chuckles in my ear as he says, “It was rather distracting, having your side of the bond open, right as Azriel was going to work on our captives.”

He’d heard me?!

Shit shit shit! How much did he know?

“H-how did you…?” My hips buck instinctively as he curls a finger inside me, hitting a spot I didn’t know was so sensitive. 

“Think of the bond like a bridge,” he explains it so clinically, as if he isn’t currently adding a second finger inside me. “With a door on each end. Last night, you opened your door and let me walk right in.”

“How…” I roll my hips to match his pace, desperate for the friction, even as my eyes squeeze themselves shut from the embarrassment of this conversation. “How much did you hear?”

“Heard and saw,” he corrects, teeth scraping along the underside of my jaw. 

I wish the floor would open up and swallow me!

“Just the last bit, I think,” he continues, picking up his pace as my body clenches around his fingers. “When you called out for me. Want to tell me what you were imagining I was doing?”

Thank the Mother he hadn’t walked in when I was thinking about how much I hated him! I’d be dead otherwise, mark or not, and this wasn’t the position I wanted to be in if that was going to happen.

“This,” I whimper, turning my head to brush my lips along his throat. As long as he thinks it was nothing other than my general horniness, I’m safe, embarrassment aside. 

His fingers plunge deeper, wetness dripping down my thighs; I have to be leaving a mess on his pants at this point. “Hmmm, not very creative,” he tuts. “You could have had any part of me you wanted, and all you could think about was my hands?”

Considering the way my thighs start to shake, breath catching in my throat as he hits a spot inside me that has stars swimming across my vision, I’m pretty sure his hands are far beyond the limits of my imagination. No dream had ever felt this good. I intend to defend myself, or at the very least tease him in return, but the only thing that makes it past my lips is his name, soft and pleading as a prayer as my hips chase the motion of his fingers. My whole body is on fire. No part of my imagination would have ever been able to create this.

From somewhere inside the tent, music has started playing and some of those dancers I’d spotted on the way in start the entertainment portion of the afternoon, which I’m sure is a fantastic display, given the approving sounds of the crowd, but I can’t even pay attention to it. I’m barely aware that it’s there as I press my forehead into Rhysand’s shoulder and whimper, body tight as a bowstring.

“Just like that,” he whispers in my ear, chin dropping to rest on my shoulder so he can watch the way my hips rock against his hand. “Doing so well for me, Darling.”

“Please,” I beg. Gods I’m begging Rhysand. Did that even matter at this point? I’d already gotten on my knees for him, already taken his mark, what was a little begging in retrospect?

He places a tender kiss beneath my ear. “Beg a little more.”

Color heats my cheeks. “Please?” I tilt my face up enough to brush my lips over his warm skin again, my hips doing most of the work now as he slows his pace. I could honestly cry from the sudden lack of stimulation. 

“Little more.”

What could he possibly want me to say here?

Something flares in my chest as my brain spins, the same tugging feeling I’ve felt the last couple of days when I think about him. Is that the bridge he spoke of? Is that really him on the other side and not some bullshit? I mean, he did know what I’d done last night… So maybe this is real, maybe we really are…

It clicks and I drag my own teeth over his throat, leaving a little mark. This is how I keep up this ruse, right? “Please, mate.”

Shadows swirl up my thighs, caressing all the sensitive spots his hands are too occupied to touch. That little tether in my chest warms as he once again picks up the pace. His own hips rock forward, erection hot and heavy against my ass as he leaves another bite mark where my shoulder meets my neck. I’d said exactly what he’d wanted to hear.

“Good girl,” he praises, voice so low and husky it pushes me right over the edge.

Stars swirl across my vision, body going limp in his grasp as I finally hurtle over the edge. I’ve never cum so hard in my life! It’s only by biting down on my lower lip that I don’t let out a scream.

He holds me gently as I come down, shadows now stroking in soothing patterns over my skin as I catch my breath. 

“Fuck,” I whisper. 

He kisses my cheek as he removes his hand from between my legs. One of his shadows brings a cup of ale over for me to drink.  “Let’s get you some food, hm?”

It is still hard for me to wrap my head around that this male is the one that so easily slaughtered my people--the male that just took two heads off in the amphitheater. There is such a contrast to him it makes my head spin. It is even stranger to me that he is still very obviously aroused and not doing anything about it. He’s very content to let me just sit here in his lap after giving me the best orgasm of my life with nothing in return?

“What about you?” 

Rhysand places another kiss beneath my ear. “We have all day, Darling.”

That thing in my chest warms at the thought. At least there are some perks to seducing the enemy, right? 

------

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[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 13 - Mona Lisas And Mad Hatters

Summary: too late.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: warning: an extra hefty batch has been cooked in the copium lab and these two are passing that shit back and forth like a big juicy spliff.

uh. so. this is a big one. i feel like i’m force-feeding you, it’s fucking 9,1k words. and yes, yes, i know - working title is ‘tryskomys’s wonderous trope extravaganza’. i hope you’ll enjoy this as the reader meta-beings you are. you’re all invited for a game of where’s waldo (waldo = a trope) - let’s see how many you can get! gotta catch ‘em all, man. gotta catch them all.

jokes aside, this chapter is really a labour of love and some of the lines in this were the first ones i’ve written for this story. so i hope you’ll enjoy <3

tws: uh, how do i word this without spoilers…bloody injuries - squeamish folk be careful. fighting, fists. allusions to the ol’ es eggs. nothing explicit - not how we roll here. but come on, you can imagine what’s happening. bad deals (seriously, don’t do this). i’m chronically european so i may have delusional ideas about how travelling through the states works - google maps are my only friend, please don’t laugh at me xx

if you read all of that, here’s a warm forehead kiss <3

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

April 4th, 1989

“Green light, Keeks! You’re going on a little tour, starting April. First stop - New York.”

“Holy shit!”

At the beginning of March, Keeva was stopping by the office of Love Bone’s manager Kelly to pick up some printed promo posters for their first EP - he immediately pulled her aside to give her the exhilarating news.

“Polygram will get you a van, it’s a little run-down but it will do,” Kelly said, tapping on a bunch of papers on his desk that had all the details on them. He handed one to her - it listed the properties of their van. Keeva didn’t understand the first shit about cars, though.

“We’d travel on a bloody wheelbarrow if it meant we could go on the road,” she chuckled and flipped the paper to check the tour dates. “God, I can’t believe it! Ahh!”

“Booked you the hotels already, the label will pay for everything,” he explained and took a drag from his cigarette with a genuinely excited grin. “Check this out - they’ll supply three rooms at every hotel -”

“Oh, shit,” she interrupted, mouth agape. “They’ve got money money.”

“Yup. Tell the guys to split into pairs,” Kelly finished the sentence and paused, clearly carefully choosing his next words. She’d noticed.

“Hm. What’s the catch?” she asked and leaned on his desk as he handed her his cigarette so she could hit it. He sucked his teeth.

“Fuck, nothing gets past you, does it?” he scoffed and took the cig back after she took a puff, a curious squint on her face. “Uh, well - they will give us three rooms because there are no other rooms. And except for Philly, San Francisco and Portland, even these rooms each have just one double bed.”

Keeva had to hold back a cackle.

Of course you were gonna hit me with that.

“Ah. You know, somehow I knew you were going to say that and I was hoping you wouldn’t,” she nodded with a tight-lipped smile and then let out a huge sigh. “But you never disappoint me, Kelly, that’s what I love about you.”

He was obviously pleading with his eyes to make Keeva spread the message to the band herself. She put a hand on Kelly’s shoulder with a mockingly consoling expression.

“I’ll make sure to tell the guys very delicately for you, no worries. I’m sure they’ll be happy to cuddle after a few nights away from home.”

Kelly visibly relaxed with a sigh and slumped his shoulders.

“You’re my shining star, babycakes,” he said and walked around the table. He took Keeva’s face in his palms, shaking her head from side to side. Sometimes he did that - squished her cheeks and turned on his lisping baby voice. “Light at the end of the tunnel. The thorniest, most majestic rose in the Garden of E-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keeva rolled her eyes and in turn patted his shoulders. “So I’ve been told many times.”

“I’ll make sure yours and Stoney’s bed is the best,” Kelly pointed a finger in her face, gave her cheek one last squeeze and then walked back behind his desk. He sat down and started organizing the scattered papers.

“Don’t waste your time. The Ritz or the Bronx - he snores, anyway,” she nonchalantly scoffed as she gathered the posters that were stacked in the printer. But meanwhile, her heart rose all the way up to her throat.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. One bed.

Oh, that’s bad.

Polygram might’ve been generous enough to give them an ugly van, but they couldn’t spend more money on plane tickets to get them to New York first so they could drive around the tour dates from there.

Which meant a three-day ride from Seattle across the whole States just to get to the first venue, switching at the wheel every few hours so the other could get some sleep - and there were only five of them, because Keeva never had the money or the time to get a driver’s license.

The ride was exhausting. Even though she was sitting in the front seat the whole time, Bruce had to pull over so she could go puke in a ditch three times before they even got out of Washington.

The guys in the back seemed to be having fun, though. Greg spent most of the time he wasn’t driving by sleeping, Andy brought his portable video game so he could keep his little fantasy football league rolling - Jeff was really into it, too.

Oh, Andy. He came back a few days before his birthday and he was drained. Weak, hungry, tired. Exhausted but determined - even through all that, he looked healthier than before and the tour was somewhat of a distraction for him, easing him into the dawning reality of coming back to normal life.

For his sake, there were a few rules set up before they left - no partying, no excessive drinking and hard or soft drugs in his presence, preferably not at all.

The guys seemed a bit bummed at first - it wasn’t like they were planning to get fucked up every night, but this was their first tour - everyone in their twenties, what else were they supposed to do than have a good time? And ‘a good time’ was always stereotypically tied to substances. Loosening people up, connecting. Almost a necessity to make a group of differing personalities get along, albeit for a limited amount of time.

Thankfully, they were all intelligent enough to set all the expectations and youthful recklessness aside and promised to behave for their friend.

Stone spent the whole ride reading - he was going through his Lovecraftian phase. Everything cosmic horror excited him. The fear of the unknown, the horror of silence, of colours, of what lurks in places we cannot possibly reach.

Keeva wondered if he found himself in that. The threatening of things that are personal to him - stuff that disrupts the usual, disturbing the comfortable silence that’s shared with someone important, the vast smallness and inconsequence of our existence when facing the skies.

Loneliness. Deep-seated fear. Pain.

He’d just say to her that he needs to get scared sometimes to see if he still has emotions - with that stupid smug smirk on his face.

When they arrived at the hotel and walked into their room for the first time, Keeva was genuinely taken aback.

She didn’t expect anything fancy, but this looked a bit like her parents’ flat back in London - and that was a drug den.

There was a disgustingly ragged red carpet in the middle of the room, a double bed with iron posts, a tiny bedtable next to it and one armchair in the corner, covered in holes.

The most luxurious thing about it was the little balcony next to the window - it gave them a beautiful view of the peeling wall of the building next to them.

“Well, isn’t this nice,” Stone said with an amused smile as he dropped his duffle bag next to the bed.

Keeva had to swallow a few times to push down the lump in her throat. She’d hoped that somehow, somewhere, a mistake was made and they would end up having two beds - even though she knew that was just delusional.

Fucking hell. Someone up there has really got it in for me.

“Wow, The Plaza really isn’t what I thought it would be like,” she chuckled and walked over to the window to let some fresh air into the stale room.

Sadly, the breeze wasn’t as satisfying as she thought - New York definitely had nothing on the crisp mountain air that was floating around Seattle.

Nonetheless, she inhaled a big breath and took a quick peek at Stone over her shoulder. He was searching through the bag for something.

“Uh, you wanna take the bed?” she said, her voice coming out just as meek as she’d feared. “I’m fine with the floor, it looks clean enough.”

He looked up with a smirk and continued to rummage around.

“I don’t bite, Baby,” he hummed and when he noticed Keeva’s eyes widened for a split second, he chuckled and looked away again. “Kidding, you take the bed, of course. I like sleeping on the floor. Makes me feel grounded.”

Stone clearly expected her to laugh at his stupid pun, raising his eyebrow when she just looked away and took another breath of the smoke-laced air outside.

“I mean - we can -” she stuttered out, but he shook his head and finally found his pipe and a little zip bag with a few clumps of weed buried under all the clothes. Keeva was glad that he at least had the decency to dig it in so deep - every time they passed a state border, she was so on edge that she thought she’d fall out of the open window.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Stone said without much care in his voice and threw the pipe and his book on the bed. He took a towel out of his bag and headed to the bathroom to shower. They still had a good few hours before the quick soundcheck for tonight’s show.

Keeva rested her elbows on the windowsill, watching all the stereotypical yellow taxis pass down the street below.

Picture-perfect New York. Just like she’d imagined when she was selling cheap postcards at her dodgy music shop in the dumps of Shoreditch.

Ever since the dawning thought came to her mind on that roof six months ago, she’d been scrutinized by the memory of every second spent with him.

She didn’t understand - how can you be haunted by something that is still in the process of happening?

It was like a dam broke when she allowed herself to think those words - and it was irreparable, no matter how hard she tried to rebuild it.

Suddenly, Stone was occupying her head from the moment she woke up to the moment she fell asleep at dawn. Before, she’d thought that her supposed friend was on her mind way too often.

But it was nothing compared to…this.

Every time he closed his eyes while playing, making himself miss a few notes. Every time the corner of his mouth twitched when he threw a jab her way. Every time he scratched his jaw while reading his notes in the studio. Every time he looked at her with a thoughtful frown during their lunches at Julia’s, his eyes swirling with an unreadable emotion.

Every single move he made, her brain taunted her by repeating the same sentence.

I’m in love with you.

Over…and over…and over.

Keeva felt much less cool these days. More prone to blushing at his digs, having a hard time coming up with witty quips to combat his. She was pretty certain that from an outsider’s point of view, it wasn’t too noticeable - but deep inside her bones, there was a civil war going on.

And then - somewhen along the excruciating timeline of the past months of recording the EP and spending more and more time with him due to having fewer shifts at the café - came an earth-shattering consensus of her heart and her mind: Stone’s pragmatic idea of ‘the friendly help-out’ was the only way to get rid of the silly false idea that she could actually be properly in love with him.

It would set her free of this romantic nonsense. She would do it and realize that there’s no noble feeling behind this madness. He’s just hot and rude, that’s it. They can still like each other as pals and have fun, blow off some steam. But nothing else.

That is a terrible, terrible idea.

That is actually a viable solution to all of my problems.

After pondering those two opinions back and forth from dusk to dawn, Keeva convinced herself that the second one was the right way to go.

She already felt like she was ruining their friendship by having those thoughts about him - sometimes, she thought, Stone looked at her as if he could hear them and that was the last thing she’d want to risk.

Well, if I offer this, it will send a clear message. And then he won’t suspect anything because -

Ugh, there’s nothing to suspect, shh.

He won’t feel weird about it because I’ll affirm that there is no it. And that there will be no it. Fuck, I’m not making any sense.

This building had a strange energy. She felt like she was in closer proximity to him than at home, where they were living in the same room. Maybe it was the different environment. Different state. The beginning of life on road - even if it was only a few dates now.

Keeva was thinking so loudly that she hadn’t noticed that Stone got out of the shower, put on clean clothes and walked out on the flimsy balcony. He sat down on the iron floor, clearly not caring that it was both cold and dirty.

She peeked out of the window so she could see him - the still-crispy Spring breeze flowed through his freshly washed hair. The scent of strawberries and the weed he was puffing on - that strange mixture that had grown to encompass everything he was to her - carried over to the window even through the stench of car fumes.

His nose peeked out of the curtains of damp hair that obscured the rest of his face. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

And the soft smile that appeared on his face as faint sunbeams sparkled through the clouds and shined on his face charmed Keeva so intensely that she moved away from the window and made the few challenging steps toward the balcony.

She walked out and sat opposite him with a sigh, waited for a few moments and then fixed her eyes on the wicker pattern under her feet - he looked at her with a questioning grin, but she was prepared to avoid his eyes at any cost.

Stone tried to loosen up her obvious nervousness by jokingly offering her a puff, fully expecting her to throw him one of her looks and do something like kick his shin. So, he jumped a bit when she actually reached for the pipe, raised it to her lips and took a big hit.

Keeva would’ve loved to see his expression when she handed it back, but she valued her already fleeting confidence more.

Fuck it.

“You know, I’ve been kind of thinking about that whole, uh, proposal of yours.”

She didn’t lift her eyes, but she could tell that Stone paused for a double-take between her and his pipe.

“Huh?” he said, curious and confused.

Keeva held her breath as she thought her next words through.

“You know, how you said that you’d help,” she said softly, still adamant about not looking at him. He sat back and laid his hands in his lap, spreading his legs. She’d noticed that he started picking on his nails.

“I’m lost.”

He really did sound lost, but as always, there was a hint of tease in his voice that could’ve been interpreted as taunting.

“I mean - uh, that friendly help-out thing?” she peeped out, squeezing her eyes closed as she finally lifted her head. “That you said we could do anytime we needed?”

Keeva opened one eye to see Stone’s surprised face, his expression going from a confused frown to a reserved smile.

God. He wasn’t teasing.

“Oh. Uh, sure. Sure, I mean…” he stuttered out, clearly taken aback. “Fuck, you good?”

This is bad.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? Sorry, I -” she started and felt her determination gush out of her ears as if her head was a broken hydrant. “- it was just a stupid question, forget about it. No worries, really.”

I’ll be leaving to bury myself alive now, bye.

“No, the offer still stands. I’m just surprised,” he chuckled and took a puff, quickly going back to his ever-so-cool attitude. “I thought that we’d established that that’s not ever happening, so what’s going on?”

Keeva blinked a few times to digest his words.

Shit. I didn’t think he was going to question it.

“Um…it’s just - there’s, like, a guy that I like and, you know, if something happens I don’t wanna look like a clueless idiot in front of him,” she lied through her teeth, giving him a cramped smile.

Please believe me. Please believe me.

“Uh, right,” Stone squinted at her, slowly breaking into a smirk.

He doesn’t believe me.

“Jeez, what kind of a best friend are you? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he continued, nudging her leg with his foot. She quickly tucked her knees under her chin to get out of his reach - she wanted to keep at least the few remaining bits of her dignity.

Best friend.

“I - didn’t wanna jinx it,” she mumbled. Stone just nodded.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

Keeva had to push back an eye-roll.

That’s not the point and you know it, dickhead.

“Met him at The Ditto. You don’t know him,” she explained and folded her arms to hide her flinch.

He knows everybody. Shit.

“Oh. Phew,” Stone whistled. “So he’s an out-of-town? What’s his name?”

This was quickly spinning into an interrogation she did not appreciate. On one hand, he had a right to ask his questions, but knowing him - he already read her like a book. Keeva was a terrible liar and he knew that very well.

“Yeah, uh, K-Kentucky. Jed from Kentucky.”

Stone snorted.

“Jed from Kentucky?” he repeated with raised eyebrows and put a strand of his wet hair behind his ear. I’m in love with you. “Didn’t know you were into hicks, I would’ve tried my redneck accent on you. People say it’s indistinguishable from the real deal.”

“That wouldn’t work because, unlike you, he’s hot,” she spat back with a taunting frown. He wasn’t having any of it, though.

“Ouch, you’re giving me a whiplash,” he chuckled and theatrically threw his head back, accidentally bumping into the wall with a thud. “Didn’t you just say you wanna have sex with me, like, thirty seconds ago?”

Keeva’s cheeks grew so red that she actually feared a vein would burst under her skin. She rolled her eyes and banged her forehead against her knees a few times. She had holes in her denim overalls and her legs was pleasantly cold, unlike her face.

“Describe him then, maybe I just don’t recognize him by name,” he kept pushing and now she was certain he was just fucking with her. It was written all over his smug face.

“He’s, uh…”

Her brain froze on a single set of features long ago. Almost like she wasn’t able to recall any other ones existing anymore. No matter how hard she tried, she could never see anything else.

Brown waves, huge green eyes, elven nose. Pale, gangly and a self-righteous prick.

“He’s, uh, blonde,” she mumbled, snapping away from his face. “Blue eyes, little button nose, kinda tan. Sweet guy.”

Nailed it.

Stone gave her a slow praising nod, humming.

“Solid choice, Baby,” he said and dragged his leg up, resting his elbow on his knee. I’m in love with you. “I might not be a good training wheel for that, though. Quite the opposite. You sure that we’re on the same page here?”

Oh, come on.

“I, uh…fucking hell, Stone,” Keeva sighed and dropped her arms in frustration, finally snapping. “Stop grilling me, ‘kay? You know I just wanna try it out. If you’re not up for it, I completely get it, but I’m already dying from embarrassment here so stop doing this whole fucking Stoney thing you do.”

“What Stoney thing?” he innocently asked and had to bite his cheek to hold back a laugh.

“This!” she groaned and stretched out to repeatedly slap his arm. “Acting - like - you’re - clueless - while - you - laugh - in - my - fucking - face!”

“Sorry, sorry, yield!” Stone giggled and shuffled away, running his hand through his hair again. I’m in love with you. “Couldn’t resist, come on. I can’t just let it slide without fucking with you a bit. Of course I’m up for it.”

Of course I’m up for it.

“You are?” she frowned as the weight of the moment finally hit her. She didn’t even realize she was holding her breath almost the entire time.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be? Already offered it, too,” he shrugged as if all of this didn’t phase him at all.

“Yeah. But I thought you, like, changed your mind or something,” she said and reached out, taking the pipe from him to take another hit. “Got sick of me and all that, now that I’m not fresh meat.”

Now she could enjoy the way Stone’s jaw dropped - at her gesture or her prickly comment, she didn’t know. But it was adorable, nonetheless.

“Fresh meat?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, I didn’t realize your attention span was so solid. Kinda impressed,” she nodded and handed back the pipe. He scoffed.

“You’re a sardonic little shit and you look like a Gelfling. How could I get sick of that?”

The sincerity in his voice hit Keeva right in the stomach, melting her from the inside like a laser beam. She could do nothing but hide her wide grin by resting her head on her knees again. A few moments of silence passed before Stone cleared his throat.

“So is there a Jed from Kentucky or…”

“I hate you,” she lamented and couldn’t help but start laughing as the tension slowly left her muscles. He joined her, slapping his knees.

“Just making sure I’m not stepping on any redneck toes here,” he raised his palms in defence with a shrug. She groaned.

“Ugh. Fuck. Me.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the theory,” he said when the laughter died down, a sly smile still resting on his face.

Keeva chuckled and then the air started getting heavy again. The high of finally getting this off her chest started fading and the realization of started weighing on her shoulders, making her physically slump.

What the fuck have I done?

“Just, uh…just come up to me when you’re ready, okay?” Stone interrupted the creeping silence, his voice as soft as a feather. “Whenever you want. I’ll wait.”

She wouldn’t dare to look at him, just giving him a nod and a silent ‘thanks’.

“There’s just a few points to go through,” he added, a bit more serious. It felt like it was dawning on him, too.

Keeva raised her eyebrows with an amused grin, trying to lighten the situation.

“Jesus, you’re so professional it’s frightening. Is this a blood pact?” she lunged forward, putting her hand over her mouth. “Do I have to sign a contract? Like an NDA or something?”

Stone mocked a laugh and shook his head in disapproval.

“If you ask nicely, I will print one out for you,” he replied and reached out to flick her nose. She hummed.

“Maybe we’ll find it in the Ten Commandments. ‘Thou shalt not spreadest the word of Stone’s obscene cock size -’”

“I appreciate your sentiments, but please shut your piehole for a second,” he shot back, shaking his head again when she stifled a laugh.

“I just can’t take you seriously, you’re so fucking dramatic -”

“First things first,” he interrupted her again, clearly growing a bit irritated at her nervous rambling. “I’m tested and disease-free, just so you know.”

“Yeah, Stoney, I figured,” she said with a soft smile. It wasn’t like she didn’t expect Stone to be serious about it, but the softness of his approach still sent a warm wave through her body.

“Just putting it out there,” he shrugged and started counting on his fingers. “Second, I try my best, but I’m not clairvoyant, believe it or not. So you have to tell me to stop when you want me to stop. It’s okay to say ‘no’. I need you to say ‘no’. Otherwise, it could mess you up real bad and that’s not happening on my watch.”

Christ. This is really going to happen one day, isn’t it?

Keeva tried to shoo away the anxiety by joking - as per usual.

“Thought we were gonna have sex, not go into a battlefield.”

“Same thing,” Stone said and took a quick puff, ignoring how her eyes widened. She knew that he had a problem with joking to avoid stress, too, but... “Third, I don’t know if you’re taking pills -”

She scoffed.

“I’m a virgin and I’m poor.”

“Right,” he shook his head after a small pause. “Either way, wrapper it is, always. We don’t need any more Stoneys running around this shithole planet.”

“Uh,” she cleared her throat. “I beg to differ.”

“Shush,” he hissed and bit his tongue to hide a smile. He took a longer pause now. Heavier than the last one, which made her shudder. “One final thing. I don’t do ki-”

“Kissing.”

Stone blinked a few times and shuffled in his seat, clearly taken aback when Keeva finished his sentence. His lips tightened into a thin line - she was fairly surprised at his shock.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” she said, giving him a small chuckle. “You might not remember, but virginity doesn’t make you blind, you know.”

Silence.

“You okay with it?” he asked and she could swear she heard a smidge of insecurity in his voice.

Okay is a relative term. Disappointed would be more accurate.

“No kisses, no attachment, no hearts broken. Makes sense,” she shrugged and cautiously watched as Stone sat back, his eyebrow slightly twitching.

“Yeah?”

No.

“Yeah.”

If Keeva didn’t know better, she would’ve taken his sigh as awkward frustration. But Andy’s wise words from all that time ago echoed through her mind. Sometimes girls mistake his sarcasm for flirting.

“Good. Great,” he said, mirroring her polite smile. “Uh, any questions?”

If this is a friendly transaction, I guess it’s childish to ask if you’ll continue to fuck other girls.

“Will it hurt?”

Sure, much less childish.

God dammit. Long pause.

Stone’s expression softened as he broke into a sweet smile.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t,” he reassured her and reached out to affectionately squeeze her ankle. Keeva couldn’t help but relax.

“You’re sweet,” she said with a chuckle, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

It was all tangled and matted from the long drive and on top of that, desperately asking for a trim. The pink from her teenage years was long grown out and the stress-induced premature grey streak above her forehead was back, further adding to all of her insecurities.

Stone raised his hand as if on cue, twirled the few colourless curls around his index finger and then tucked them behind her ear.

“You’re cute,” he whispered and Keeva darted across his face for a few more seconds before slapping her thighs.

I’m in love with you.

“Well, I promised Jeff that I’ll take a look at his tuning pegs so his bass stays in tune for more than thirty seconds,” she scoffed and started to get up. “Am I dismissed now, professor, sir?”

Stone chuckled, sat back again and - unbeknownst to her - followed her with his eyes as she walked away, all the way through the room and until the very last second before she closed the door behind her.

“Yeah, sure.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

As soon as they walked out on stage, something felt off.

None of them didn’t expect a huge sold-out crowd, but they were so hungry and excited for this tour that they couldn’t help the disappointment.

The Cat Club was decently packed, but full of either label people or random tourists. There were a few people in the front who rocked out to every song from the very beginning, but there were also a couple of others who were clearly off their heads on MDMA.

There were also a bunch of guys that looked like they were from a biker gang, occasionally yelling a slur or two from the back table they were sitting at.

What bothered Keeva the most, though, was the group of what looked like three wasted frat boys that were regretfully standing right in front of her - and the stage and her treasured pedals were way too close to the crowd for her liking.

They were usually taking turns on solos from gig to gig - she, Bruce and Stone sometimes played little games to decide who would be soloing on which songs and today’s rock paper scissors landed her the Stardog instrumental. She loved that one - she could unleash all the boiling swirls of confusion that made their home inside her and channel them into psychedelic madness.

But now, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull that kind of attention to herself.

Andy didn’t seem too bothered by the lacklustre crowd. He just did what he did best - he was being a fucking rockstar. And a sharp-tongued one at that.

“Pooks. My sweet, sweet Pookster. Let’s do this bit, baby girl,” he exclaimed into the microphone and walked over to Keeva, taking her around the shoulders. She used to feel embarrassed when he involved her in his routines, but by now she was not only used to it - she entertained it. “How about you tell all of us one outrageous opinion of yours? Loud and proud so we can get a little feel of the audience, please.”

“Okay, uh…” she stuttered when Andy stuck the microphone into her face, brushing her hair aside. She scratched her head and scanned the crowd.

Okay, frat boys right here, biker gang back there, oh - there’s a few punks right here too. Label guys. Oh god, there are metalheads in that corner. This is like a Molotov.

“Oh, there we go: any fucker here that says that they don’t enjoy ABBA is a liar and a stinky, filthy, smelly little poser. Thank you,”

Keeva’s bow was met with a few giggles - mostly from the band - and noticeably more boos. That made her laugh.

“Woah, tough crowd,” she said, backing away from the microphone as Andy and the rest of the band kept on laughing their asses off.

One of the frat boys right in front of her thought that it would be a perfect time to holler.

“Show us your tits!”

That made her stop laughing. She raised her eyebrows as high as they could go.

“You wanna see my tits?” she asked when she walked over to her own mic, patting the ‘I FUCKED TIPPER GORE’ sign on her chest - the guy screamed from the top of his lungs. And by the nature of herd behavior, soon many in the room started whistling and wooing, too. She looked over her shoulder at the band. “Okay, how much were the tickets?”

“Like, three, four bucks,” Bruce answered, a sly smile plastered on his face because he already figured out the punchline.

“Yeah,” she sucked her teeth and turned back at the guy, a pitiful frown on her face. “Looks like you didn’t pay even nearly enough, pal.”

A few more boos echoed through the small room and the band laughed even harder. Although, Jeff was clearly just a snap away from spitting on someone.

“Oh, she’s a little feisty, isn’t she?” Andy giggled, pacing around the stage while toying with the mic cord. “You know, I’ll let you in on a little insider story. This one is dedicated to the front row. Keeks here, she’s a pretty lady, huh?”

Oh no.

As a new wave of whistles appeared, Keeva pleaded with her eyes to Andy to just drop it. She could handle herself. But he just raised his finger as if to say ‘trust the process’. So she just cracked an embarrassed smile and walked over to her amp to hopefully calm down with a beer.

“Yeah, she’s like…some type of a fairy, I think,” Andy continued pacing and waved his arms around as if he was telling the most gripping fairytale of the century. “She’s like four feet tall, pointy ears, tiny little feet. They can kick some ass, but still. Aaanyway, she’s like our resident teddy bear or something. And we call her Pooky. Now, I’m sure that most of you are familiar with the Garfield comics, right?”

A few hoots stood out from the crowd, but the reception was pretty lukewarm so far.

“For those who aren’t, it’s a story about a cat - he’s a sly sarcastic bastard who has this cute little semi-sentient teddy bear. And his name is Pooky, so that’s why we call her Pooky.”

Keeva took a big sip and exchanged a confused grin with Greg, who was having a smoke behind his kit. He offered her to finish his cigarette, so she gladly took it from him and anxiously waited to hear what Andy had cooking up.

“Uh, those of you who’ve read it know that Garfield is really protective of this teddy bear of his, and if someone hurts Pooky, he’ll scratch their ugly little eyes out.”

He said the last thing so nonchalantly it made her inhale the smoke too fast, so she tried to stifle a cough and got all red in the face, making Stone laugh - he was standing right next to her, fiddling with his amp.

“Yeah and, uh, you might be asking yourself ‘Well, if Keeks is the Pooky, then who is the Garfield here?’” Andy poised the question and started stroking his chin like a philosopher. Keeva already knew where he was going, though, as her eyes widened.

No, Andy, don’t do this to m-

“Well, in this alternate universe, the Garfield here is Stoney. And if any of you fuckers -” he pointed from Stone to the trio in front of her, “- try to touch Pooky again, he’s gonna beat your fucking ass into a bloody pulp.”

A wave of screams, hoots, and whistles joined the joyfully raised fists and a few middle fingers. Andy just always found a way to unite the audience, good or bad. Keeva’s eyes popped open and she turned to Stone, who was already looking at her and bending over laughing.

“I’ve seen it happen before and let me tell you, little frat boy heads don’t mix well with Stoney’s boots,” he raised his finger and threatened everyone with a faux dramatic frown. “He’s wearing his trusty rusty Docs tonight and he’s a size 14, so that’s some food for thought for you all. Let’s go, this is Stardog Champion.”

Keeva couldn’t wait to jump into the song, so as soon as Stone finished tuning his guitar - still laughing - they could count it up and rip into the intro.

As they went through the opening riff booming with distortion, Andy quickly went over to her with a sly smile on his face and kissed her cheek.

Just as they were nearing the solo, Keeva stopped roaming the stage and positioned herself right in front of her set-up.

As always, she tried to ignore anything that was going on in front, behind, above or under her, but it felt like someone was grabbing her ankle - then her knee and after that tried to snake higher.

She ripped her leg away and saw that it was one of the frat boys. She mouthed a ‘fuck off’ to him and then reluctantly walked back to the front - she had to use her pedals. But they were just too close and this time, his friend joined in.

They started grabbing her calves and because of how short she was, they would end up reaching all the way up her thigh if she didn’t twitch away - she managed to do that, but the guitar was oh so heavy and her head started spinning.

Where is everybody?

When ripping away didn’t work, Keeva started kicking - and lo and behold, her heavy combat boot landed right on one of the guy’s forehead, taking him out.

Uh. K.O.? Yay? Oh shi-

The other guy grabbed the leg that was still in the air and pulled, knocking her to the floor as she lost balance.

When Keeva looked around her, she’d noticed that they clearly planned to drag her into the crowd, so she did what she usually did back home when a man twice her size tried to beat her up - she spat in his face.

This time, though, it didn’t work out as well as she’d planned, because the guy she kicked down got back up in the meantime, somehow acquired an empty bottle of beer and slammed it against her head.

Before Keeva could even register the pain, the one she spat on swung his fist and landed right on her nose.

And at that moment, she blacked out to the fading screams around her.

She gained consciousness for a few moments just as Stone blew a gasket. He jumped into the crowd after literally throwing his guitar away - even in her delirium, she managed to reach for it and catch it right before it hit the floor. She let out a small ‘oof’ and clutched it to her chest.

Careful, not The 3, man. That’s not cool. Not cool.

Oh, look, blood.

There was a lot of blood. On her hands, in her eyes, on her guitar and t-shirt - and now Stone’s guitar was bloody, too.

In her peripheral, she saw Jeff and Andy jump down too as the crowd around Stone numbered and swallowed him - clearly the punks and bikers in the back were just edging for something like this to happen.

The fuse.

But Stone was doing just fine - he sucker-punched the guy that sucker-punched Keeva and then kicked him while he was on the floor, spewing insults so ferociously that he had spit flying all around him. His height gave him an advantage, too - he stuck out of the crowd and swinging his lanky arms around allowed him to hit multiple people in one go.

Sadly, one of the bikers took the opportunity of Stone’s volatile rage to punch him right in the back of the head.

Even Greg leapt over his kit and went right in. Keeva began to faint again, but Bruce - looking almost angelic in her deluded mind with his brightly bleached hair and gangly limbs - came up to her, scooped her in his arms and carried her backstage.

The last thing she could hear was Stone’s well-mannered attempt to defuse the situation.

“Shut your fucking mouth, you bald cunt! I’ll bash your little fucking brain in, you fucking bastard!”

She woke up in the car as Bruce sped down the road back to the hotel. She felt sick to her stomach, but somehow managed to keep it in as she looked around, her head pounding. The guys were huddled around her, sighing in unison when they saw her eyelashes flutter.

Greg was sitting by the window with wide eyes as he tried to ask her how many fingers was she seeing - he had a wet rag slapped on the top of his head.

“What’re those faces for?” Keeva mumbled and tried to sit up. Andy, who was sitting next to her, quickly moved to ease her down. She grumpily slapped his hands away, but immediately had to apologize as he hissed - the knuckles on his right hand were purple and swolen.

“You’ve been in and out of it for ten minutes,” Jeff said, clearly a bit annoyed. Probably at the world in general, but she cringed at his hostile tone nonetheless. He was pressing an ice pack to his eye - she couldn’t see it, but judging by his expression, it hurt pretty bad.

“We’re going back to The Plaza, someone called the cops so we had to pack up and dip,” Bruce called over his shoulder - he was the only one with a clean face. “Straight to the hospital after that, no arguing.”

Keeva scoffed.

“If we’re running away from pigs, we probably don’t wanna waste time at the hospital for no reason,” she mumbled, her hoarse vocal chords cracking multiple times.

“Okay, Al Capone, take it down a notch,” a barely recognizable voice croaked from the corner - it was even more nasal than usual. “We’re not fleeing a murder scene.”

Her eyes immediately snapped to him.

His visage spoke otherwise - Stone was by the other window, holding a bloody towel to his actively leaking nose. He had a deep scratch slicing his eyebrow and the wide carmine bruise on his cheekbone was visible even in the unlit car.

She stared at his battered face for a few seconds before choosing to hide her horror behind a venomous mask.

I’m in love with you.

“You sounded like you were about to kill someone, what else are we doing?” she hissed and tried to sit up again, almost as if she wanted to lean closer and punch him, too. For what reason, she didn’t know - he didn’t do anything.

There was just an inexplicable wave of anger that repeatedly ran through her - and through him, too, apparently. He took a wet breath and leaned closer as well, clearly ready to throw back an insult.

“Calm down, you two!” Andy pleaded again, trying to push Keeva back down, but she shook his arms off - her head felt like it was about to explode.

“No! I don’t need to go anywhere. I don’t wanna go anywhere.”

“Save the energy, Pooks,” Greg softly said and reached out to stroke her knee. Somehow, he was always the one that managed to calm Keeva down - like the big brother she never had. That didn’t stop her from shaking her head as she laid back down in her seat, though.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Your forehead is cracked open,” Stone barged in again, but his scratchy voice faded in her ears and dissolved like a fog - as did the rest of her surroundings.

“Bullshit. I don’t even…feel a…thing.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

Five hours. They were waiting in the emergency room for five hours already. After many various arguments back and forth, the guys reluctantly agreed to stay back at the hotel to get some sleep - Stone stubbornly insisted on being the one to drive Keeva to the nearest hospital.

That was a good call, because she found out that he had a broken nose when they got there and checked each other’s faces under the harsh fluorescent lamps.

By then, they were sitting on the floor - somehow, it was more comfortable than the plastic seats. Stone was trying to clean the dirt around the cuts on Keeva’s forehead. The blood around his nose was finally drying up.

“Are they fucking melting metal to make the needles from scratch? What’s taking so long?” he spat out and wiped his clammy hands on his jeans. His fingers were vigorously shaking as he reached out again and continued to press the rag to her skin.

“Jesus Chris, chill out, Stoney,” she muttered and quickly patted his knee. “I’m fine.”

“What the fuck even happened there?”

Keeva didn’t even realize they hadn’t talked about it yet. They were too busy trying to take their mind off of things by talking about stupid things - like why hospitals always choose to paint their walls with baby puke yellow. The longer they were there, though, the more on edge Stone seemed.

“Dunno. I was ready to do the solo and they just dragged me down,” Keeva shrugged. “Guess I provoked them or something.”

Stone harshly clicked his tongue.

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t you dare even suggest that it was your fault.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly subtle,” she replied with a bitter chuckle. “Not my first time getting punched for that, though.”

He stared at her for a moment and then broke into a grin when she gave him a ‘what are you gonna do about it?’ smirk.

“I believe that,” he nodded. “Spunky little runt running around the mean streets.”

“Ow!” she squealed when Stone pressed too hard. He immediately backed away, raising his hands.

“Fuck, sorry. Sorry. I think I’m doing more harm than good here,” he mumbled and put the towel away. He rested his back against the cold wall with a frustrated sigh, darting across the empty waiting room.

He looked as if he’d just walked through a meat grinder. Andy insisted that he wore eyeshadow tonight and as it blended with the sweat and the bruise under his eye, it appeared like he hadn’t slept for weeks. Keeva felt so incredibly bad.

“Never had anyone play the nurse before, though. Kinda enjoying this,” she smiled and nudged his side. He scoffed and looked at her again, scanning all the trails of red that were still smudged on her face.

“That makes one of us.”

“Don’t act so coy,” she pressed and hyped herself up to take Stone around the shoulders, ignoring the sting in her rib she hadn’t even noticed until then. Surely if she was coherent and playful enough, maybe he’d be annoyed instead of worried. “What was that thing that Andy said?”

He shook his head with an amused frown.

“What?”

Oh, you know exactly what.

“You’ve kicked someone in the head before?!” she said, putting on an outraged tone. Stone shrugged and inched away from Keeva to take a proper look at her battered face again.

“Yeah. Hey, what? Why are you laughing?” he chuckled and softly tugged on her high ponytail when she giggled as if it was the funniest idea under the sun.

“Little picket-fence uptown lawyer son getting into street fights?”

He seemed a bit restrained, even though he was silently laughing with her.

“Yeah, not really,” he mumbled and leaned his head on the wall again. “But I wasn’t such a square back then, you know. I was fun once.”

No more frowns today.

I’m in love with you.

“No way!” Keeva theatrically gasped. Her throat was sore from coughing all evening, so the breath painfully hitched in her throat. “I can’t imagine you ever being fun. Causing mayhem, money-laundering alcohol, constantly taking the piss out of your sweet, kind, dainty, adorable roommate. God forbid making sex jokes, eugh!”

Stone laughed, but didn’t add anything else for the next few minutes. Keeva trailed off, too. He clearly wasn’t in a mood to joke and she knew better than to push it.

Fuck, why did I have to make an ABBA joke? Wasn’t even that funny in the first place. It never is.

“I had a girlfriend. Once,” Stone quietly disturbed the stiff silence. She turned to him, only to find his eyes closed. Somehow, he seemed even more beaten than before. “I’ve kicked many hypothetical heads throughout that whole…thing.”

Oh. Oh, right.

“I’ve heard,” she mumbled and the arm she had around him twitched.

Stone scoffed.

“‘Course you did. I feel like it’s a part of the Seattle folklore by now. ‘Hey, remember when Stoney Gossard got cucked by a Mormon and half of the fucking town?’”

Now he sounded beaten, too.

Keeva didn’t know what to say. What could she even say to that? There were no magic words to erase heartbreak, as much as she’d love that.

The comfort that Stone’s mere presence brought her wasn’t something she could express though speaking - let alone trying to rationalize to him why he didn’t bring comfort to someone he was willingly giving it to.

She didn’t expect him to elaborate any further, yet…

“One day I just didn’t have the energy to kick anymore,” he added, slowly and deliberately - as if he was fighting his way through the sentence. “Guess she didn’t like that. Honestly, my legs have been kinda tired since then.”

Keeva tried to recall everything she’d heard about that ordeal.

‘Oh, Tara? Man, she was a bitch.’

‘That girl had a stick up her ass.’

‘Tara was a big ol’ cheater.’

‘I despised how she belittled him.’

‘Tara hated the smart-ass comments. I’m surprised she even lasted that long.’

That’s the one.

“We should write that down. Such sweet poetry from a guy who has a black eye and a ripped lip,” she nonchalantly sighed and squeezed Stone’s shoulder. “You’re a man of many talents.”

The giggle he gave her was more soothing to her injuries than opium could ever be.

“Hey, shut it,” he nudged her before snaking his arm around her waist. “What I’m trying to say is that you’re the first girl I’ve kicked a head for in years, okay?”

Keeva felt like her nose was about to start bleeding again.

“I’m honoured, I swear,” she mumbled and rested her head on his shoulder, exhausted.

I’m in love with you.

“You better be.”

Another long silence followed, but it was much lighter than before. She felt a surge of bravery rush through her pounding head.

“You know, if I’d ever met her, I’d be happy to swing a few fists around.”

She earned another heavenly chuckle.

“Yeah, bet you would,” Stone silently nodded and squeezed her closer to him. “She was like eight inches taller than you, though.”

I can imagine.

Tall. Silky hair. Athletic. Ambitious. Serious. Elegant. Everything I’m not.

I’d punch down hard.

“Do I look like I care?” she muttered, not able to keep her bitterness back, but she realized that probably only made him more amused.

“Not really, no,” Stone said, a wide grin plastered on his face. Keeva sighed. She got so lost in his warmth for a moment that she could barely hear herself speak.

“She missed out, you know?”

“On what?” Stone deadpanned and the honesty in his voice made her heart hurt almost as much as her head. “A resentful sarcastic prick?”

Keeva looked up and lifted her hand, softly turning him to face her. She wondered how he always managed to shed his borderline cocky confidence so abruptly.

“A friend.”

Before she could properly take in Stone’s sad smile, the nurse finally appeared at the door of the waiting room.

Thankfully nobody at the hospital asked any questions - it was three in the morning in the middle of Bronx, they were clearly used to seeing worse.

The nurse cleaned both of them up and disinfected them from head to toe. Keeva got three stitches on her forehead and one little stitch on her cheek while Stone’s nose got painfully cracked back in its usual position. The doctor supplied them with enough Advil for two horses and sent them on their way.

The car ride was silent, but Stone’s melancholic expression was unchanging throughout the whole way to the hotel and up the stairs to their room.

The fact that they only had one bed didn’t phase her much this time.

Neither of them headed to the shower, or to change their clothes, or to the balcony. Or to prepare the floor for sleeping. They just sat on the bed in unison as if the air itself was pushing them down.

Keeva didn’t have the confidence to look at him, so she just started at her lap and observed the tiny cut on her index finger.

Maybe it was the adrenaline of it all that made her bold enough to lift her gaze - only to find that Stone was already cautiously watching her. She shuffled a tiny bit closer - if it was anybody else, they probably wouldn’t have noticed.

But this was him.

He didn’t follow her movement, but something shifted in his eyes. Keeva couldn’t tell what exactly was it - she’d never seen his face so blank.

“You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even say anything.

I didn’t even have to say anything.

She took a moment to think.

If it was meant as an argument for why they shouldn’t, Stone failed to sell it. His voice was low and way too unconvinced by his own reasoning.

Be bold, you little runt. Be bold. It’s only life.

“So are you,” she whispered and reached out to cup his cheek, lightly running her thumb across the bruise that painted it. Stone’s eyelashes fluttered closed as he breathed out a shallow sigh - and that was the final straw she needed. “It makes the pain go away, doesn’t it?”

He opened his eyes.

The green seemed so fluorescent it blinded her. Her heartbeat grew so rapid it deafened her.

But she could still feel.

The rigid mattress was suddenly as soft as a rivlet of down feathers. But it was nothing compared to the tips of his fingers.

She registered his few swift movements only because the sheets wrinkled around her and before she snapped out of it, his knees were at the sides of her hips. Stone rested his palm next to her head and slowly traced her face with his other hand, like he was playing connect-the-dots with her freckles.

“You really shouldn’t learn that from me, Baby,” he whispered and ran the back of his index finger from the tip of her forehead down along her cheek, across her neck and below her clavicle - it felt like he was hovering above her skin. As if he was just touching the tips of the goosebumps that rose before he even moved closer.

Down, down, down.

I’m in love with you.

Too late.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[venuscxre]

COOKING BY THE BOOK .ᐟ

summary ; baking with lancelot might seem fun, but you know what isn’t? not being able to bake. luckily, lancelot is a great teacher.

request ; “ HI HIII !!! can i please request a lancelot x reader where reader and him try baking some cookies but reader absolutely sucks at it so he teaches her how to bake and the ending is just lots of fluff 🙏🏼🙏🏼 thank you and i hope u have a great day ilysm :33 ” — @svpremedeity

pairing ; lancelot / black fem!reader

wc ; 966

tags ; fluff, established relationship, brutal honesty from lancelot, lancelot is a kitchen whizz like his dad!?? reader absolutely sucks at baking.

notes ; ahhhh!! ilyt!! i'm so so so sorry this took so long :((( i've been in a bit of a slump :cccc

𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

it’s a rainy saturday morning in the middle of autumn, the leaves have changed their colours and fall gracefully to floor, the drag of the wind sways the trees whilst the gentle pitter-patter of rain chills the air, creating an incredibly soothing atmosphere.

you’re home alone at the moment, taking that as an opportunity to satisfy the endless cravings of a homemade treat. padding down the hallway to your kitchen, you contemplate what you’ll be baking and how much of it.

you rummage through your cabinets, digging through for the ingredients, and once everything is set out on the table, you begin the preparations. it’s just cookies, how hard could it be to make them?

you get out two different bowls, one for the dry ingredients and the other for the wet. considering the past failures in your cooking endeavours, you make it a point to follow a recipe that your mother frequently uses. nothing can go wrong as long as you follow a recipe, right?

elsewhere, lancelot feels a shiver run down his spine, making him rub his shoulders in discomfort. noticing him shiver, tristan, who he’d just flung to the side like a ragdoll, sends him a nasty side-eye. “getting sick, lance? don’t tell me you’re bothered by a little rain.”

“shut up and worry about yourself, moron. i’m not the one who’s been sneezing non stop despite suggesting to train in this weather. besides, that idiot is probably in the kitchen.”

tristan scoffs and rolls his eyes. he doesn’t need to be told who ‘that idiot’ is; he knows it you. he finds it odd that lancelot refers to you in such a condescending way despite his apparent fondness of you. he guesses that’s just how he is.

lancelot cuts their sparring session short and quickly heads over to your house. to his dismay, he does see you cooking from the window. sighing, he opens the front door, and with no warning, a metal mixing bowl is thrown straight at him. he ducks, whipping his head to you with a flabbergasted look as the bowl lands outside with a loud clatter.

“dammit, woman, what the fuck was that for?”

“i thought you were an intruder…” you mutter apologetically. “why’re you here anyway? weren’t you supposed to be busy training today?” you usher him inside, going to get a spare towel to dry him off.

“i got the feeling you were doing something stupid.”

“what? the only thing i’m doing is literally just baking. what the hell are you talking about?”

“exactly my point. you’re shit at cooking and baking.”

“am not!”

“are too.”

“am not– oh, shit, the cookies!”

he shakes his head in disbelief. seriously, could you not go a day without almost burning down something? this is why he’s banned you from the kitchen.

he watches as you frantically hurry about looking for your oven mitts and when you do find them and pull out the cookies, they’re a little charred. “see what i mean? you’re shit at this.”

your bottom lip juts out in a pout. “it doesn’t look that bad.. besides, i followed the recipe, so it should be fine.”

lancelot takes one cookie and examines it. he bites into it and shakes his head again. “it’s over stirred and way too salty. the chocolate chips didn’t melt well either. you wasted a lot of ingredients.”

your shoulders slump. despite the truth in his words, his blunt dismissal of your hard work causes you to feel bad. you’d made a lot of cookies to take to him.

lancelot notices the drop in your mood and sighs lowly. he walks closer to you, patting your back. “hey, it’s fine. not everyone is good in the kitchen.”

his attempts to lift your spirits are futile, and he smacks himself internally. “hey, c’mon, i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” his arm wraps around your waist. “you know i didn’t mean it that way.”

you’re slightly appeased by the physical contact, but still down. lancelot breaks away from the hug and goes to wash up the bowls that you’d used, and also retrieved the one that was still laying outside in the rain from your earlier assault. he looks the recipe and gets out the necessary ingredients.

“c’mere, sweet girl,” he beckons you over and you begrudgingly oblige.

“i’ll teach you how to bake these in exchange for your forgiveness. how does that sound?”

you sniffle but nod anyway. lancelot pats your hip and the both of you get to baking. he makes sure to walk you through the steps and aides you in stirring the batter, making sure that it’sthe right consistency.

“chocolate chip or plain?”

“..chocolate chip..”

lancelot can’t help but smile at your mumbled response. while he puts the cookies in the oven, you decide to make hot chocolate for the both of you. you add in minimal sugar but a lot of milk with just a few marshmallows, just the way he likes it.

whilst waiting for the cookies, the both of you clean up in silence and occasionally take a sip from your beverages. and about twenty five minutes later when the cookies are golden brown and crispy, lancelot takes out the cookies, leaving them to cool off for a bit.

“they smell good..” you murmur. lancelot chuckles, pecking your cheek. “i’m glad you think so. here, try one.”

he holds a cookie up to your lips and when you take a bite, you can’t help but melt.

“good, huh?” he grins smugly.

“yeah.”

the rest of the day is spent with the both of you cuddled up by the window, fast asleep. the cookies and your hot chocolate are gone. maybe you should bake more often– with lancelot’s help of course.

[struggling-with-time]

The Man That Is Wilbur Soot [Wilbur Soot x reader]

Paring: c!Wilbur Soot x Gender neutral!reader

Summary: Inspired by the Song Honey Honey by ABBA aka I took the line "I'd heard about you before I wanted to know some more"

Warnings: Fluff?

Words: 3.4K

Masterlist: Wilbur’s Masterlist - Event Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: This was made for my ABBA event. Check it out here! (Also requests are still open! Click here!) btw, this was supposed to be like 1k

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You had heard about Wilbur Soot before. Everyone had heard about Wilbur Soot the President of L’Manberg. The guy who stood up to the Tyrant Dream of the SMP. And came out victorious, unlike the others whose life has been lost to the Tyrant, and their names to the passage of time.

You can’t say, he didn’t intrigue you enough, for you to set out on the dangerous journey that is crossing the SMP. Because he did. His country did. The ideals that you’ve heard about did. Everything intrigued you enough to leave your village behind and track into the world.

So that’s what you did, backpack on your shoulders, map in hand. You set into the big world, on the tracks to the dangerous country that the SMP is. You barely get out of the village before you are able to hitch a ride.

It’s a merchant that is headed for one of the villages closer to the border. It’s a bigger village than your own. The name rings a bell, maybe a traveller has mentioned it when passing by. So you hitch the ride, he tells you about his trades. He’s a merchant of fabrics, listing many places you haven’t even heard of. But there is one that catches your attention.

“You’ve been to L’Manberg?”

“Before it became independent yes.”

“Tell me about it!”

And the merchant does, for the entirety of the ride. He talks about the few people that resided there when he passed through the back then settlement. You beg him to tell each detail he can remember. And he happily provides. You take note of every you hear in your notebook. Your travel journal. Your… well diary.

He’s a good man, you note to yourself when he pulls into the bigger villages. The sun on the horizon.

You’re much further than you thought you would be on your first day.

This is going to be a good trip.

---

This is going to be a horrible trip.

You’ve been wandering for days, the closer to the border of the SMP, the fewer carts had come by, and even fewer willing to take a traveller with them.

You sigh as you watch the sun starting to set, and you are forced to make camp once more. It has been days since you last slept in a bed. To be exact 16 days. You had only managed to stay in an inn for the first night, realising your small amount of money wouldn’t get you far if you spent it all on beds.

You are reminded of the people whom you met that first night, a girl who talked about how President Soot had come by the town in his own travels to the SMP, and she had met him. No not just met him. She had spent the night with him.

And you just couldn’t help yourself, you had to quill your curiosity somehow, so you had once again asked for details, and she had provided.

The fire you get going is better than the last one. Not that the last one had ever turned into a fire. It had rained in the morning, and most of the wood you could find yesterday was still wet by the time you wanted to settle down.

But today, you had been lucky, it had been sunny all day, leading to being able to find dry sticks and a couple of pieces of logs. That you could make into a fire.

A clear stary night over your head as you turn in for the night. Hoping to get at least a couple of hours out of the fire to keep you warm. And to keep the mobs away. Knowing you still have a couple of days of wandering left before you will reach the borders of the SMP. You sigh as you jolt down the few interesting pieces of the day in your notebook.

Not that anything of importance actually happened. But maybe out there someone would read your notebook and find the fact that you saw a parrot in a birch forest be found interesting.

---

You have under half a day of walking left when a cart is willing to pick you up. Turning the hours of walking into a mere hour in the cart. You can feel yourself squirm in your seat as the silence falls upon you and the woman who picked you up.

“…So… Why are you heading to the border?”

She lets you sit in silence.

Rude much?

But… You can’t really call her rude, she was nice enough to pick you up and take you to the border. Where she very unceremoniously dropped you off, and headed off east, seemingly following the border never crossing it. She was… weird.

You instead tighten your back, and head over to the guarded tollbooth. A man looking bored out of his mind and close to sleep sits there. Not even having registered the cart that was there moments ago.

How often do people come through here?

The thought crosses your mind. You know it isn’t one of the main border entrances. You know of one that lies further west. But still, a good 2 to 3 days travel away. Besides you’re pretty sure someone told you the toll at the busy entrances is higher than the ones people rarely use.

But now that you are here and can read the price yourself. It seems the person had either lied to you, or the price at the main entrances are a lot higher than you could ever think about paying.

An idea strikes you, maybe… Just maybe… The guard will fall asleep. Just maybe. You linger on the side of the road. Seemingly interested in the plants nearby. You start jotting down stuff in your notebook. Taking note of the size of the leaves, the colour. You mumble the information to yourself.

Your eyes keep glancing over, as his head slumps down further and further.

It barely takes you a few more minutes of stalling before the guard is full-on snoring. You barely catch yourself nearly letting out a sound in victory.

Silent. Right. No noise.

You can do this. You can sneak past him. You can be silent.

You suck in a breath, as you start moving as slowly as you’ve ever done in your life. Hoping to the sky gods the slowness helps you with being silent. And it does, to some extent. But your backpack still rustles around, and the loose stones on the pathway still skirt across the dirt.

But he keeps sleeping, and before you know it, you’ve managed to sneak past him. Sneak into a country. You did it!

You decide your celebration is best celebrated far from here, and you make your way on the now stone path.

---

It takes you a couple of days before you hit your first village. You’re surprised by this. Normally there is a city around half a days’ time from most border crossings. But this is the SMP. The fact that its citizens aren’t exactly allowed to leave. Is more than public knowledge in other countries. They are under the rule of a Tyrant after all.

You figure it’s time to sleep in a real bed, you deserve it.

You head straight into the in, it’s barely past lunch, but there is a plentiful of people in there already. You stumble a bit at the sight, you had expected a couple of patrons, not a room full of people. But nonetheless, you make your way to the bar.

Conversations bustling around you, a waiter running around, and either the innkeeper themselves behind the bar, or just a barkeeper. You aren’t exactly sure. But you wave them down anyway. Maybe she can help you find the innkeeper and ask for a room.

“Well, hello there, you look exhausted.” Your shoulders sink further down at the comment. Did you really look that bad?

“I was wondering if you had a room I could rent?” you ignore the rude comment and stick to politeness.

“I figured.”

“… So um… Do you have a room free?” You try once again.

“Sorry hun, but if you hadn’t noticed we are full right now.” You completely deflate at the answer. In return, she takes pity on you. “But if you ask around over at the stables, someone might let you on as a passenger and take you to the next city. It’s half a day by cart, so you might just catch one if you’re fast.”

You beam up that answer, profusely thanking her, before running back into the street. Before realising you have no clue where the stables are.

It takes you two people, and three wrong turns to find the stables. And nobody is preparing any carts when you get there. Just a guy saddling his own horse.

Ah well, it never hurts to ask.

You approach the guy.

“Hi!”

He looks a bit confused when you stand across from him, on the other side of the horse.

“Um… good evening?”

You smile at him.

“Can I help you?” He speaks slowly.

“Ah yes! Sorry! I’m a bit out of it. I’m trying to get to the next town over.” You happily tell him.

“And you’re telling me this because…” He trails off. Leaving time for you to answer, instead, you leave him hanging. Until he coughs.

“Because…” He repeats.

“Because I was thinking, maybe you were heading that way.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I can pay…” You try.

“Well then, why didn’t you start with that.” He looks you and your baggage up and down twice before clicking his tongue. “We can make this work. Do you know how to hold on?”

You nod, and he settles onto his horse, waiting for you to do the same. You manage to hoist yourself up and onto the horse. It doesn’t even flinch at the added weight. You’re thankful to the sky gods for that.

He rides the two of you out of town and onto the road for the next town.

“What’s someone like you this far out in the country?”

“I’m a traveller.” You tell him.

“To the border? So you could look at it and head home?” He snorts.

“No no, I’m not from the SMP, I’m just travelling through. I’m headed to L’Manberg.” He snorts once more.

“L’Manberg? That bunch of spoiled brats.”

“Spoiled brats?”

He laughs this time.

“Don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“You truly aren’t from these parts.” He comments, and let the conversation fade out after that.

You don’t question the man, instead just pays him as the sun starts to set, and you are once again in an unfamiliar village. At this point, you barely remember the route you used to take in your home from your house to the baker.

Okay, that’s a lie, that is a route that is embedded into your mind, that you could sleepwalk it. For the sole reason that the route had you pass the library. Which was a place you spent a lot of time. Especially after finding out about the interesting man of Wilbur Soot.

Some books portrayed him as a traitor of the SMP, others the hero of the folk. But every single depiction had one thing in common. That he was an interesting enough man for people to want to write about him.

And that made you interested in him. He had started a revolution in a country that wasn’t his. You weren’t sure where he was from. None of the books in your village had mentioned that.

You head into the inn, this time, it’s bustling from evening patrons, but nowhere as lively as the one in the previous town. The reception this time has a separate table. Which you welcome happily. This means you don’t have to cross another sea of half-drunken people you don’t know.

However once again, the inn is full.

What’s going on here?

This one is even larger than the other one and seemingly has fewer patrons. But you take the rejection with a head held high. Thank them for their time, as you head into the now dark streets.

You sit now on a couple of steps, you’re tired, exhausted, and just want to sleep in a bed.

The door opens.

You nearly leave your skin in shock. You had expected the owner to be asleep. Instead, an elderly lady stands there.

“Would you look at that? It seems I have a guest.” She speaks.

“No no, I’m just passing through, I’m sorry I just needed to rest for a moment. I’m sorry. I’ll be on my way!” You ramble on as you scramble from the stone step.

“Nonsense.” She tsks at you. “Come in you poor child.”

She steps back into the house, leaving the door open.

“You coming? Close the door after you, it gets so terrible cold at night.”

You find yourself following her. Closing the door after yourself. You carefully put down your backpack as she ushers you into a seat in the kitchen. Setting a plate of hot steaming soup in front of you. You nearly drool at the sight. You can’t remember the last time you had warm food. Especially not warm homemade food.

You are quick to dig in, and she laughs warmly at you. You feel comfortable here.

“Why were you out in the street this late? That’s no safe place to be.”

You stop the spoon still in your mouth. She laughs once again, but the kind air around her never leaves. You swallow and pull out the spoon.

“I’m making my way to L’Manberg.” You tell her.

“Ah, L’Manberg. I’ve heard about that place. President Soot right?”

“Yes, yes.” You nod at her. “Wilbur Soot.”

“Ah, the Antarctic prince.”

You stop once again.

“The what?”

“The Antarctic Prince?”

You hum.

“Ah my dear, President Soot is the second born of King Philza from the Antarctic Empire.”

You stare at her; this was new information. She laughs once more. You are quick to grab your notebook and write down the new information. How had something this important not been mentioned before? This explains so much to you. And it eagers you even more to continue the trip.

The man of Wilbur Soot only seems to keep getting more and more interesting as each day passes.

The kind lady offers you a bed and a bath.

You are more than happy to receive both. Although you would never admit that to anyone that you could barely recognise yourself in the mirror. And for the second realisation that night. You understood why the innkeepers didn’t want you around.

You’ve never slept as good as you did that night during your travels.

---

You stretch as you can feel the scorching heat of the sun above you. It has been three weeks since you left the kind lady. She had asked for her son to help you move deeper into the country, so you were closer to the border you are desperately trying to reach.

You had travelled with her son for about a week, when he had to start heading more west than south, you had thanked him as much as his mother. But he had brushed you off that having a travelling partner was nice, and that you if came back through he would love to hear stories of the famous L’Manberg and its citizens.

The map you had brought seems to not be well mapped in the SMP. It wasn’t something you were unprepared for, but it did surprise you how little it truly resembled the mapping of the roads.

But a map is a map, and a destination is a destination. So you head onwards.

And onwards…

And onwards…

And onwards…

Sometimes meeting other travellers now that you are deeper in the countries. The nights where you aren’t alone passes faster than the ones where you are.

You hear stories of L’Manberg you have never heard before, and retellings of events but in other perspectives.

It seems a lot of people have a lot of opinions on the small country. But you understand, you too would have a lot of opinions if a city suddenly started wanting independence from its country.

It takes you weeks before you start coming across people who have been near L’Manberg regularly. It gives you a sign of hope. You’re getting closer, your journey is reaching its destination.

---

It’s storming the day you spot the country on the horizon. It’s still storming by the time you reach the country. The SMP toll guard is seemingly nowhere nearby and you pass the border with ease this time. Luckily for you. Or else you would have to explain why a traveller like you didn’t have travel papers.

You had expected to be met with one of the cities of the small country immediately. But it seems they are further from the border. And by further, it takes you an hour at foot-travel to meet the capital of the small country.

The streets are bustling.

That’s when it hits you.

You’ve made it.

You’ve actually made it.

You might look mad, but you let out a laugh right then and there. A laugh of relief. A laugh of victory. A laugh of … being alive.

“Having fun there?”

You turn around, to be met with the eyes of a stranger. A tall brown-haired stranger, nonetheless.

“Yeah, I just… Yeah.” You trail off. You eye him up and down, he’s cute. You put your hand out to present yourself, your name, the country you came from, and the name of the village you used to live in.

“Wilbur Soot, President of L’Manberg.” He returns with a smile. You barely listen to his words. Too captured by his smile. When…

Oh.

Oh, sky gods.

This is the man.

This beautiful human being of a man is the man.

“You alright there?” He asks as he watches you falter for a moment.

“Yes, yes, everything is fine. More than fine actually.” You tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” You smile at him, and he smiles back.

“So, what are you doing here? You are an awful long way from home.”

He starts walking, and you fall in step with him.

“I’m here to see the country. I’ve heard a lot about it.” Leaving out the unsaid, I’ve heard a lot about you. He didn’t need to know yet, just how intriguing you found him.

You follow him down the street as he points a couple of things out, a couple of buildings, a couple of people. You listen and stop to note something down a couple of times, and he waits, patiently. Until he leads you to the local inn.

He holds the door open.

“A drink?”

“Yes please.”

He finds the two of you a booth, and you easily fall into conversation.

He asks you about your hometown, you about his.

He asks about your journey, you ask about the revolution.

You continue this game of ping pong. And the further down your drinks you get, the more personal the conversation gets. The less you note down. Yet, the man himself never falters from being the most interesting thing you’ve ever encountered.

And the night moves along, your conversation following.

You don’t really know when his hand landed on your thigh. Or when your lips met his. But suddenly you’re stumbling into a room together.

His touch setting you on fire, and your touch egging him on.

Your head is spinning as your back hits the bed.

Your notebook is lying tucked away safely in your backpack, staying there all the way into midday when you finally wake up. Disorientated, confused, and hungover.

Sitting there in that bed, you can’t help but remember the words of the girl you met the first night. And you can’t help but agree with her. Wilbur Soot surely is a love machine.

You hear rustling beside you, and you turn your head.

He’s awake.

He’s watching.

He’s watching you.

You lazily smile at him.

And at that moment, there is nowhere else you would rather be.

You had heard about him before, and you wanted to know some more.

People later down the line found your meeting story anywhere from boring to fate. But one thing was sure, you entered L’Manberg with one goal in mind. And never left again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

[hangovercurse]

Long Days

Pete comes home after a long day at work and just wants to cuddle

Request: “heyy i love your pete writing!!!! could you write some domestic or boyfriend pete pls 🥺 hes always talking about how much he loves his partner when hes in a relationship its so soft”

Pete Davidson x Reader

Word Count: 1671

You yawned, looking down at the time on your laptop and realizing it was well past 3 am, Pete’s usual arrival time. You frowned, checking your phone to see if he had texted you that rehearsals were running late.

And just as your fingers touched the plastic phone case, the door to Pete’s apartment-basement opened, revealing the man himself. He looked exhausted, even for himself. The bags under his eyes sunk deeper than usual and his slouch was worse than ever.

He found you sitting up, blanket over your lower half, laptop in lap, and he smiled lazily. He slumped over to the foot of the bed and fell face forward into the mattress. You giggled as his face landed next to your waistline, moving your laptop to the small table besides you as Pete kicked his shoes off. You reached and pulled Pete by his forearms to lay his head in your lap, the man making no effort to help you except flipping over to look at you.

You ran your fingers through his hair, smiling down at him. “Hi baby,” You spoke softly as he snuggled further into your body. “How was work?”

Pete hummed, eyes closing at the feeling of your gentle fingers combing through his locks. “Long. Lorne was in a bad mood and the host made us rehearse everything like 3 times.”

You frowned, “I’m sorry.” You shifted so your back was resting against the headboard and pulled Pete so he was cuddled into your chest, back against your front. You wrapped your arms around his waist, rubbing his stomach with your thumb.

Pete shrugged, hands moving to sit on top of yours. “It’s not your fault, just sucked.” You nodded, leaning down to press a kiss against the side of his head. “What did you do all day?” He asked, looking up at you.

“Zoom meetings with clients mostly, nothing too interesting. I saw this really cute puppy on my walk today, though!” You reached over and grabbed your phone, finding the picture you had taken and showing it to him. “Highlight of my day until you came home.”

He smiled, taking the phone from your hands, and gazing at the picture. “Almost as cute as you.” He mumbled, making you giggle. You pressed another kiss to the side of his head, and then another, and then a few more in quick succession, making him laugh.

You loved to hear him laugh, especially on days like these where he was feeling down. “Did you get a chance to eat?” You asked quietly after a few moments of silence.

“No.” He followed his statement with a groan, “I worked through dinner and wanted to see you as soon as possible so I didn’t stop.”

You nodded with a smile on your face, touched that he was so eager to come home to you. “I can make you something,” you offered. He rubbed small circles to the top of your hand and let out a small hum of agreement. “What do you want?”

“Do we have stuff to make mac n cheese?” He asked.

You let out a small giggle at the childlike sound of his request, “I can check. You just want mac n cheese?”

“I have been craving mac n cheese for like three days.” You laughed at his confession, moving your arms, and trying to get out from under him.

He refused to let you leave, laying over your lap completely to keep you sitting. “Pete I can’t make anything if you don’t let me stand up.”

He groaned, turning to hug your middle, his head buried in your stomach, “don’t want you to leave.”

You let out a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair, “do you wanna come cook with me?” He shook his head no. “Okay well I have to get up, so you have to let go of me.” He shook his head again. “Pete, I will drag you to the kitchen if you don’t let go.”

He laughed, looking up at you with tired eyes. “I’m like a koala bear.” You could hear in his voice just how tired he was, and you weren’t sure if he would be able to stay awake long enough to eat any food you made.

“Yes, you are, babe.” You sighed, using all your force to move your feet to dangle off the bed, Pete’s hands still around your waist. “Pete, let go.” You said, giggling lightly.

He let you go long enough for you to stand up before standing up himself and wrapping his arms around you again, this time from behind you. You sighed, leaning your head back against his chest, knowing he would make you walk in this position.

The two of you waddled to the kitchen, Pete pressing lazy kisses to your neck the entire way there. You got out the ingredients for mac n cheese, setting them out on the counter. “Is cheddar okay?” you asked, turning your neck to meet his eyes, and finding a soft smile on his face. He nodded, pressing a quick, sweet kiss to your lips.

You preheated the oven and set a pot of water on the stove to boil, Pete finally moving off of you to jump onto the counter, grabbing handfuls of cheese as you began to grate it. You gave him a joking glare, which he returned with a wide smile.

Once the water began to boil you added the macaroni, mentally making a note of what time you would need to take it off the stove. You put butter on a saucepan, letting it melt as you measured out the milk, flour, cheese, and half and half. You added the ingredients and mixed, draining the noodles after six minutes and adding the sauce.

You moved to one of the cupboards above your head, searching for a dish to put your mixture into. You could see the glass pan above you, but you knew reaching it would require you growing an extra three inches. You frowned, preparing to jump up onto the counter when you felt a hand around your waist. “imagine being short.” Pete said with a chuckle, grabbing the pan with ease.

You turned around, pouting at him as he set the glass on the counter. His arms went to rest on the counter on either side of you, leaning down to be closer to you. “You’re mean.” You said, crossing your arms.

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “And you’re adorable,” he mumbled, kissing you again. His lips moved so well with yours, fitting perfectly together. Pete deepened the kiss, making you lean backwards with a smile. He whined, trying to kiss you again.

“Food, Petey.” You said, pointing to the stove. He sighed, moving his hands to let you move back over to your spot and finish making the food. Instead of returning to his counter, he followed you, wrapping his arms around your middle  from behind and resting his head on your shoulder. You continued to work despite the man weighing you down, swatting his hands away when he tried to take pieces of pasta.

You pushed him back as you opened the oven, placing the glass pan with macaroni in it and setting the microwave timer for 20 minutes. Once you were done, Pete spun you around to face him. His hands rested on your waist, and you put your own around his neck.

“Dance with me” he mumbled, forehead resting against yours.

You giggled softly, “there’s no music.”

“We don’t need music.”

Pete started swaying you both gently, slowly spinning around the room. Your eyes were on each other the whole time, nothing else mattering but each other. Despite the lack of music and the tiredness in both of your eyes, it felt magical.

You didn’t notice Pete’s mom enter the kitchen, nor did you notice the smile on her face as she took out her phone and recorded the two of you. You didn’t notice anything other than Pete.

“I love you.” You whispered; a smile spread on your face.

Pete’s lips connected with your own, the kiss slow and sweet and lazy and perfect. “I love you too” he whispered after he pulled away.

You were brought out of your fairytale when the microwave beeped, alerting you that the mac n cheese was ready. You pulled away, grabbing an oven mitt and a towel, and pulling the glass pan out of the oven. Pete noticed his mom in the kitchen doorway.

“I came to get a glass of water but I didn’t want to interrupt your moment.” She said, a fond smile on her face.

A blush rose to your cheeks as you set the pan on the towel. “Do you want any?” Pete asked motioning to the dish.

She laughed, “at 4 in the morning? I’m good. But if there’s leftovers I might take some to work tomorrow.” You nodded, mentally noting to save her a piece. “Y/N made it, right?”

You nodded with a smile, laughing when Pete let out a “what is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m gonna get to bed, have fun you two.”

“Goodnight.” You called softly as she moved to her room before moving to grab a spoon, two forks, and two bowls. Pete left to the room, turning on the TV and flipping through Netflix to find a specific movie. You put the dishes in the sink, promising yourself you’d do them the next day, and then served yourself and Pete. You wrapped the remaining food and placed it in the fridge, walking to where Pete was.

You found him on the couch, blanket sprawled over him, and Scott Pilgrim vs the World queued up to play. You sat next to him, handing him his bowl, and smiling as he instinctively leaned into you. You spent the rest of the night eating and watching comedies on Netflix until you both passed out on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms.

[apricotgojo]

hello! I was wondering if I could request a kinda spicy kinda not spicy chat noir x reader fic? It can literally be about anything you want. Please and ty❤️❤️

AHHH I’M SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT BUT I FINALLY WROTE IT !  Thank you for the submission anon! <333 i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy it! 

Ship: Chat Noir x Reader 

Warnings! : SEMI-NSFW, all characters are aged up here!, swearing!

Tags: enemies to lovers?? ;))

“merde.”

That was the first word you hear that caused you to open your eyes. Your head was hurting and your whole body ached. You rubbed your eyes and sat up on the cold floor beneath you.

You saw Chat Noir sitting, slumped in front of you with his head resting back against the wall.

Great he was here too. You guys didn’t really get along, mostly because he tried to flirt with you on the first day he saw you and you didn’t want to put up with his shit because you knew he did that to every girl he saw. You both started growing pissy with each other since that day.                                                                                                       now you were stuck with him in this dark, humid room.

where were you guys? most importantly what happened that got you both here? you furrow your eyebrows as you try to recall what happened. All you can remember was Ladybug giving you the bat miraculous to fight along side them again. Then you went near the Louvre where the villain was and both you and Chat Noir made a run towards him. that’s all you could remember.

“You’re finally awake.” You hear him croak.

You snap out of your thoughts and look at him. His blond hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and his chest was moving up and down with every deep break he took. He looked hot. wait, what no he didn’t why are you thinking that? “what happened?” You ask him. You couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of him and your body felt warm. Too warm.

“the villain knocked us out with his power and Lady locked us up in this room until she changes everything back to normal.” He says and slides a note to you. You grab the note and begin to read it.

Hi guys. You were both hit by the villain and got knocked out. I had to put you both in this room and lock you in here until I change everything. Don’t worry Rena is here to help me. Whatever you do, don’t give in to certain thoughts and fight against urges. -Ladybug.

You furrow your eyebrows. fight against urges? What power did this villain have?

“I don’t know why she’s keeping us locked in here, I mean, I’m awake now so everything must be fine,right?” You say as you get up from the floor and walk to the door. You feel a hand grab yours and turn around to see Chat Noir in front of you. His cheeks were a deep crimson colour. “Not so fast, bat.” He whispers. “His power wasn’t just to knock us out.” He says.

You look down, your eyes fixated on his body. Your body starts burning you. why the fuck was it so hot in there?

“T-Then what is it?” You ask, looking up at him again and noticing how big his pupils have become.

“Hawkmoth gave him to power to make people uncontrollably aroused.” He states, looking down at your lips. oh.

This is what ladybug meant by fighting your urges.

You instantly pull back from him and scoff.

“as if, I’d ever be aroused at the sight of you.” You say and cross your arms over your chest, turning around and giving your back to him. You were lying, you knew that every time you looked at him you could feel your body burning and aching for his touch.

You gulp and sit back down where you were, trying your best not to look at him.

“Yeah because it’s not like you want to rip all my clothes off and suck me dry whenever you look at me, it’s just cause you hate me right?” He says, chuckling dryly.

You instantly feel your cheeks heat up at his words and your legs close together. fight the urge. fight the urge. fight the urge. that’s what you kept telling yourself but god you needed some type of release so bad.

“What is it now, Chat got your tongue?” You hear him whisper in your ear and your head instantly turns to face him.

How did he get there?

Your faces were inches apart. Your lips were both parted, your cheeks both red and your breathing increased with every passing second that you stared down at his pink lips. They were a deep shade of pink, mostly because he was biting them so much because of the frustration. You look down at his body again, the bulge in his suit was evident and it made you rub your thighs together even more. You knew he wanted it as bad as you.

But why him? You hoped that when Ladybug reverted the damage done by the villain, you wouldn’t remember this at all. But maybe the attraction to him was always there.

But you never wanted it this bad before in your life.

Fucking akuma.

Your body moves without you realizing and you end up straddling him, catching him off guard. His hands move to your thighs for support and you swear that it took everything you had in you to repress the moan you wanted to let out simply because he touched your body.

“Shut up, kitty.” You say, your noses touching and your hand running through his hair.

You felt vibrations emerging from his chest as he rolled his eyes back. He was purring.

Holy shit. You wanted to remember this moment just to be able to tease him afterwards. You couldn’t take it anymore. This stupid teasing. Ladybug’s voice started speaking in the back of your head.

Don’t give in to certain thoughts.

It’s your fault for locking us up In here together Ladybug so, fuck you.

You move closer to his face and lick his lips gently and slowly.

You feel his grip on your thighs tighten.

“Holy shit, we can’t do this.” He breathes out while you start kissing down his jaw.

“why not kitty?” you mumble against his skin.

“Because I don’t think I want to forget it.”

“Maybe we wont.” You whisper and look up at him with half lidded eyes.

And with that, he crashes his lips onto yours.

It was pure bliss.

Just what you needed. Just what your body was aching for.

Okay, maybe your body did want more but this was something that gave you that hint of satisfaction.

Your lips moved in sync and your hands wouldn’t stop running through his hair.

Your bodies started moving together, both eager to get any type of friction, any type of satisfaction. God you needed him so bad that it was painful.

The room was filled with lewd noises you made while you kissed and small grunts and moans that escaped your lips.

You wanted more and at this point you couldn’t think straight anymore.

A hand moved from his hair down to his shoulder. You gripped it a bit for support before making your way to the bell on his neck. You fiddled with his bell before you noticed something behind it. A zipper. Jackpot.

You felt his teeth bite your lower lip and you let out a soft whimper. You gripped the zipper and began to slowly pull it down.

You froze when you felt a gust of wind overcome you.

A surge of pain went through your head and you shut your eyes. you opened your eyes again and realized that you were on top of Chat Noir.

What the fuck? You fell on your ass and rubbed your head. “What the hell happened?” He asks scratching his head.

You were about to respond until you hear footsteps and the door unlocking to reveal Ladybug and Rena Rouge 

“Are you guys ok-“ She stops and looks at both of you, her eyes wide.

You furrow your eyebrows and look at Chat who has his hair disheveled and his lips red. Little red marks were peppered from his jaw, down to his neck and then it hit you like a truck.

Holy shit.

“Oh my god do you think they-?” Rena didn’t finish her sentence and started chuckling.

“we what?” Chat asked, confusion filling his voice.

Ladybug shook her head and laughed nervously. “Nothing, the villain knocked both of you guys out and we put you here for your safety.” She says and grabs the sticky note from the floor, crumbling it in her hand.

“You guys don’t remember anything right?” Rena asks, smirking.

Chat shakes his head and gets up.

But you did remember everything.

[superphantom]

Enthralled with the idea of Danny from Danny legit dies and has a physical corpse but can still kinda be human au and the Winchesters from just regular canon bumping into each other while... hiding bodies.

Three teens carrying a fourth by his arms and legs into the woods. Would they even be able to tell that it’s Danny’s corpse? It’s gotta be pretty much cooked through at that point. Hold on, I’m going to write something rq, apologies for any mistakes/bad writing but the concept is just too fun. If you think so too, go ahead and try your hand at it, this has so many excellent interpretations.

Edit but not really cuz I haven’t actually posted anything yet: I’ve only read back through this once but I’m pretty happy with how it’s turned out, just wanted to add a quick warning for horrific death and descriptions of a corpse and all that. 

--

Digging graves always sucked, naturally. It’s hard to plow through a good six feet of rocks and dirt and bones and whatever other crap might be waiting below the surface (one time, in some backwoods in Ohio they’d hit a bathtub around three feet down. Never got an explanation for that one). But, of course, the muggy pits of July made things much worse.

Sam had shed his top layer in the car, and was now down to a single shirt. He probably would’ve taken that off too, had it not been glued onto his back from sweat. Dean, who’d made a dig at Sam earlier that night for not being able to “take the heat like a man” still wore his flannel over his shirt, though it was beginning to soak through.

Laborious elements aside, what really made grave digging so tedious was the inability to fill it with anything else. It wasn’t like they could play music or anything, when they were in graveyards they had to keep a low profile, and all the other smart places to go hiding a corpse don’t get radio reception. And talking? With the amount of dust and dirt they kicked up, not to mention the work itself, it was more like trying to reason with a bully as they threw sand in your face. Gritty, painful, and overall, not worth it. So the brothers dug side by side with only light from a half-dead camping lantern and the singing of insects to keep them company.

Sam hit a rock with the tip of his shovel to knock it loose from the wall, the scooped it up and heaved it over the side of the grave. It was still only about knee height, meaning they’d have to put in another two hours minimum if they wanted to get the man hidden.

He’d been working with a witch to dodge death as he cheated his way through some shady business dealings. Actually, he’d been fairly easy to subdue- probably why he needed the witch in the first place- but once Dean had yanked the hexbag from where it hung around his stick-figure neck he’d begun to convulse and when he stopped, well, he wasn’t going to start convulsing again. That, however, was a problem for tomorrow.

Sam knocked a few rocks loose this time, letting them pile around his feet then launching them all over his shoulder at once. With the sound of metal clacking against rock gone, he realized Dean had stopped digging and was leaning against the handle of his shovel cautiously looking out into the woods. Sam moved in next to him and tried to figure out where he was looking.

“What are y-“ he asked. Dean shushed him before he could finish, then signaled for him to listen and pointed just past a thick bramble, to a gap between two trees. It would’ve been impossible to spot without years of hunting experience, out about 100 yards away were little moving. They weren’t even shadows, it was simply just movement in the dark. “Dude-“

Dean shushed him again, and shot him a dirty look before pointing more forcefully in the direction of the movement and focusing back in place. He gestured once again for Sam to listen. For a few moments they stood in silence, barely breathing. It was faint, but Sam began to make out what was unmistakably English. a dull beam of light swung around towards them then went back to facing the other direction, effectively re-blacking out the figures. Sam reached back, not taking his eyes off the movement, and now occasional glimpses of light, and snapped off the lantern.

It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the dark. Once they could see each other again, Dean tilted his head to the left, pointed a few times with two fingers in a two directions then held one finger against his mouth. Sam nodded and they both began creeping in opposite directions with the intention of surrounding who or what was having a chat out in the woods at night.

Sam moved as if he were gliding above the forest floor. He could vaguely make out Dean doing the same, though he was now could see Dean about as well as he’d been able to see the... three? He hovered further. Definitely three people (or, by his guess witches), earlier. Now that he was getting closer, though, he began to take note of a few things.

There were three short witches(?) standing fanned out around something slumped on the forest floor, their dying halogen flashlight held limp in one of their hands, flickering sadly. The witch farthest from flashlight-witch and closest to Sam held a shovel, though didn’t make any moves to use it. None of them moved, they all just stood there and stared at whatever was at their feet.

He signaled to Dean that he was going to go in from the front. He was pretty sure he saw the shadows nod to him, so he took that as an okay. Like a mouse on cotton, he positioned himself just far enough into the forest that they couldn’t quite see, Dean doing the same but behind them.

“I- What do we do?” the one holding the flashlight muttered. His nose was awfully clogged, it sounded like he’d been crying.

“I don’t know, Tuck.” The one holding the shovel answered. She also sounded upset, but more like she was doing everything she could to push back tears, a tone that Sam knew very well. “Danny, are you sure you wanna do this?”

The one in the middle, Danny, shook his head. Each of his arms reached across his middle, like he was trying to hug himself, or maybe more like he was trying to make himself look small, trying to hide. “I-“ his voice cracked and he let out a few sobs. The leaves and sticks made a simultaneous crack as he fell down onto his knees, folding over himself and shaking with pure, cutting sorrow.

Flashlight, or Tuck apparently, and Shovel got down beside him, hugging him from either side. They held one another and sobbed, one of them, Shovel, creaking out some pained “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”’s between wordless wails. From the looks of them, they couldn’t be more than 12 years old. Or maybe they could, Sam wasn’t a pediatrician. They were undoubtedly much too young to be in the middle of nowhere, all alone in a fragile mental state doing who-knows-what.

Sam looked to Dean then gestured with his head to let him know he was going to talk to the kids. Dean shook his head and violently gestured with his gun at the kids. Wait. Not /at/ the kids, beyond them. He’d neglected studying the white-wrapped body in front of them. That explained the tears. He couldn’t help but feel for them, even though for all he knew they’d just murdered someone in cold blood. He looked back to Dean and nodded, then signaled again.

Keeping his gun at the ready, but tucking it behind his back he slowly and deliberately stepped out of the trees, intentionally making noise so they’d see him coming. Tuck looked up with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. Danny and Shovel tensed but didn’t further acknowledge him.

“Um, hey,” he said, trying his best for nonthreatening and landing at the border of creepy and awkward. “Are you guys good?”

Tuck’s eyes flooded with tears, but he got up on shaky legs, trying to pull Danny and Shovel up with him. They weakly joined him, leaning against one another for support. Despite the warm night, all three were trembling.

“I’m, uh, I’m not here to hurt you,” Sam started, not really sure where he was going with this, “I’m Sam Winchester, what are your names?”

Tuck gave him the same watery stare he’d had the whole time, like Sam was the saddest thing he’d ever seen. Shovel looked up next, she was more angry. Maybe her smeared and ruined makeup should’ve made her look silly, but all it did was add to the aggression she exuded. He could see her squeezing both her friend’s shoulders and tugging them very slightly to the left, wordlessly signaling- or at least trying to- an escape plan. Sam pretended not to notice.

“I just wanna know what happened here,” he inched his way towards the corpse. As he got closer he could smell burnt hair and flesh, another thing he was all too familiar with. He didn’t break eye contact as he squatted down and gently pulled the sheet back from a tuft of what he assumed was hair.

He bit the inside of his cheek upon seeing the boy. Fried was the only word that could describe him. His mouth hung open, as did his eyes- or at least, what was left of them. Ooze had dribbled from every orifice and re-solidified in horrible mauve blobs. His hair was barely more than a charred mess, his skin was peeling and bubbled in places, and so discolored Sam could barely make out the dusting of freckles across his nose. This was a death in agony if he’d ever seen one.

He folded the cloth back over the boy’s head and straightened up, pulling the gun from where it had waited behind his back.

“Alright,” he said firmly, “I’m gonna need some answers.”

Danny looked up, letting Sam properly see his face for the first time. His red-rimmed eyes widened at the sight of the gun, lips tightening into a thin line. It was a look of fear and resignation. He ran the back of his hand across his nose. Sam noticed a dusting of freckles on it. He looked to the sheet and then back to Danny, then checked once more.

“What the hell is going on here.” Sympathy gone, Sam allowed himself to posture intimidatingly. Whatever freaks these- these- these... freaks! were, they weren’t about to get away with cooking some kid alive. “Talk.”

The “or I’ll shoot” was silent, but understood. Danny cleared his throat, one hand rubbed nervously on the back of his neck.

“It- I-“ he stuttered, then in a barely audible trembling voice he said, “I, uh, I think I’m dead.”  

[savorysatori]

DEJA VU. / SATORI TENDŌ! — dé·jà vu.

Deja Vu. /ˌdāZHä ˈvo͞o / a feeling of having already experienced the present situation.

synopsis. — you were both broken up. done with each other for the rest of your life, but, that one phone call always awoke something in you. bringing you back to where you used to be.

// warnings. smoking, car sex, tiny bit of angst. fem!reader, ex-lovers. possessiveness, toxic!tendō, face-sitting, daddy kink. + overstimulation, manipulation, non-con at first.

leader’s notes. my second attempt at writing angst and I hope I don’t butcher it, anyways, writing this hurt bad <33 but it’s also so hot because of toxic tendō. hehe! 💗

“You always babble on about us .. saying we can’t be together, and yet, you always pick up on my calls. You’re useless without me, dove.”

4:55 AM. — It was a soft breeze tonight, the birds were silent and the sun was slowly rising to uplift the night sky. It was a quiet night. Nothing to disturb your neighbors of their slumber, deep sleep with dreams of all kinds of things swishing between them and others. 

But, you, oh you. You were up, wide awake, awaiting that same message you get from him every single day. It had become a schedule to stay up this late, hoping the three bubbles would pop up beside his name. You yearned to see him again. And it was awful. An awful, awful thing. You fell deeper into his hole of games and tricks he played on you, unable to climb out from it. Fell deep into the love he provided you. But he couldn't love you back. That was the worst part of it, and the reason you could never tell anybody. You wanted to leave, and you did. You were the one who chose to break up, yet the one who kept going back and forth. This was the cycle of a pathetic relationship, and you knew it. You felt your cell phone vibrate in your hand. You felt a mixture of dread and excitement. Dread, because you knew who was texting.

“Come outside. I’m here.”

The message showed up. From there, you knew it was him. His words were short. Uneventful, but short. You opened your front door, walking out to the middle of the meadow behind your house, to feel the crisp air on your famished skin. The moon was high in the sky, and its light illuminated your surroundings. There was nobody else around, giving you a sense of isolation from any other living being. Tendō leaned against his sleek car, exactly where your visions had led you to expect him to be. His legs were crossed and his shoulders slumped as if he was trying to disappear into the dark color of the car. You couldn't make out much else about him, as he was keeping himself cloaked in shadow.

"Tendō," you uttered, walking up to him.

He slowly lifted his head, peeking out from the cloak of car. His eyes were lifeless. Empty. There was no emotion in those deep vermillions. They were cold. Hard. Like the metal of the car they were resting on.

"So, you did come,” he said, his voice monotone and emotionless, his mouth however was pulled up into a small smirk. He pushed himself up from the car, standing at its height. He brushed some dirt off his slacks, and pulled the car door open, climbing inside. You followed his example, climbing into the passenger seat.

Tendō’s car was spotless. Not a speck of dirt was anywhere to be found on the car's interior. The seats were equally as clean, with not a single stain or tear in sight. It was obvious that he took great care in keeping his car in pristine condition. It made all the memories flood back easily into your brain, having you remember exactly everything that happened in here. As you sat in it, the engine still idling, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one out and putting it in his mouth. He lit it with his flickery lighter, taking a deep breath in and releasing it through his nose.

“I thought you quit,” you repeated the same words from before, hoping he took them in. He didn't answer. Instead, he focused on the cigarette in his mouth as he drew it out. Pushed a button to raise the window, allowing the smoke to escape into the frigid night air.

‘Why wasn’t he answering you?’

The clock in your head ticked and tocked. Back and forth with you getting irritated with by the lack of response you are getting.

He slowly exhaled, the smoke leaving his lips in a thin stream.

"Quit your bickering, would ya’? "

The two of you sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Smoke filled the car's interior, clouds swirling around each other as they rose into the air. The smell of tobacco vanished when he crushed the cig in his palm, flicking the now burnt remains out the window. Once the window rolled up, you could see the uneasiness settle into your stomach.

“Ten- we gotta.. end this, tonight. Last time.”

You were sure about it. Hundred percent, sure. Even if the need of your body wasn’t. You could feel it. His words were vague, non-committal at best, but his eyes, that's what he was getting at. His dead eyes told you all you need to know. Tendō grabbed your hand, and before you could even think about it, your hand went near your mouth, coercing you onto his lap with a brutal grip.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. Your legs moved to straddle him, your knees on either side of his thighs. His hand left your mouth, finding its way onto your throat. You gulped in a breath, instantly feeling the pain of his fingers trapping your flesh. His face, so close to yours.

“You always babble on about us .. saying we can’t be together, and yet, you always pick up on my calls. You’re useless without me, dove.”

And he was right, so right. All of it. All of his games, tactics, his plans. You left him, yet you kept coming back. Why?

His eyes burned with a bright red, like two hot cinders. Tempting you to utter a word from your quivering lips, daring you to make a peep. And just like that, his found yours, smothering your lips. Soft at first, but soon they were hungry. They were everywhere, and you welcomed each one. Tongue pushed into your mouth; you tasted the blood from your bitten lip. The smoky flavor of his mouth was gone, replaced by the metal-like bitterness of his cold breath. You were weak. Powerless against him.

Your knees bent, your legs becoming wobbly, and you gave in. What else could you do? You couldn’t resist to his whims. His cold fingers rested against your burning cheek, his other hand grabbed at the side of your face, fingers digging into your jaw.

"You're mine." He breathed, his lips barely moving.

Dazed and confused, you didn't utter a single sound. His hand ran down your cheek, and he gave a light squeeze, holding you in place for his next move. His cold lips pressed against your cheek, moving slowly to your ear. "Say it."

"I'm yours!” The words escaped your lips, as if someone had pressed them in. They felt unnatural, wrong. It was like you was forcing yourself to say them. He let out a low chuckle, his hot breath causing you to shiver, no, to tremble. "Good girl."

The hand that was on your face moved down, and he grabbed at the front of your shirt. The feeling of his hand against your skin sent chills down your spine. You could feel him smile against your skin, his lips splayed on your chest. It all came too fast. One moment he was whispering dreadful words, the next he had the leather seat laid back, the remaining clothes thrown away with your legs fastened around each side of his head, cunt mere inches away from his hungry mouth. He had your wrists pushed against your head, and the leather seat belt were tied to your arms, leaving you unable to move them. Tied down, forced to watch, no matter how hard you tried to look away... he filled your glistening pussy with his cold tongue.

It was brutal. it was exquisite.

Moans came out of your lips with every thrust, and you couldn't help but push against his mouth. You wanted more. So much more. You could feel the warmth of his mouth, hear the slurping and slopping sounds as his tongue moved in and out, spreading the lips of your pussy to suckle. The harder you went, the wetter he made you, flicking at your clit. His stubble raked against your inner thighs as his mouth moved up to your aching sex. You rocked into his face, faster with a swirl from your hips. You could almost feel the heat of his breath against your clit as you loosed a torrent of dirty words, his name passed your lips in a long tone.

“Daddy! hah, ye- yes! ‘s good,”

He didn't need telling twice. Grabbing your hips, he steadied your gyrating body as he buried his head in your depths. He pushed your legs up, spreading you wide open. His tongue swept in and out, faster and faster. You could feel the air swirling around your clit as his nose pushed against your folds, sucking your sore bud into his mouth and biting down. You came hard, shuddering as your muscles tightened and unknotted themselves, unable to do anything else as wave after wave hit you.

Tendō’s tongue slid up from your sensitive bud, slipping back into his mouth with the filth of your juices splayed on it. He did exactly what he always did, make you dazed over him. Crawling back to him and his dick with need.

“Look at you. A fucking whore, whinin’ and squealing, you can’t go a fucking day without me — can you?” he urged you on with his harsh words, bringing you back from the aftershock.

You were addicted to him.

“No. I — I can’t, I love you too much,” a sniffle came from you, eyes settling to close. “But, please .. fuck me, daddy.”

A pleased look spread onto his face. He won. “You’re finally learning, dove. Now you know you can’t live without me, I’m too fuckin’ good.” you were swished from on top of his face, your legs being forced up, your knees drawn back as his fingers dug into your thighs. Gently, he guided his dick to you. His hands wrapped around your legs as he slowly started to push into you, rocking his hips as he found your warm, wet hole.

“Daddy! — ah, fuuck.” you hissed as he entered you, wincing as he twisted his hips, grinding the last inches of his cock into you. Cool air brushed against your raw neck and the inside of your thighs as his warm body pushed against you. With every thrust, his dick ground against your clit, sending jolts of delight through your body. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as your fingers bit into his flesh. You didn't want it to end. This pure, unadulterated pleasure. He leaned forward, supporting his weight on his forearms as he panted.

You were tight. So fuckin’ tight, Tendō could barely move.

He thrust into you, hard. His pelvis slapped your ass as you took him in. You moaned into his mouth as his dick rubbed that sweet spot inside you, your body felt as if it was in a craze of desire. He steadied his breathing as he started to thrust harder, keeping an intent of driving you cock drunk. Tendō wrapped his hand around your throat, as his other hand raised your legs and wrapped them around his waist. His lips were messily pressed against your cheek as he kissed you with deep, raw animalistic lust. You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from making any noise, but your body betrayed you as a moan still slipped past your lips.

“I know you missed this from the way you look, I know you miss me. Let me hear you mutter it, baby.” he panted as your bodies' rhythm began to sync up.

Your nostrils were filled with his scent, your eyes were covered by your hair, but you could still see as he fucked you with kind-buttons, and the pain grew. “I’ve missed it!” And you did as you were told, jumping onto his cock and draining it dry with your whines. “I’ve missed you, s’so much, lo- love you too.”

“Knew it. I fucking knew it already, your mine.”

He was unrelenting as his cock mushed against your womb, his forehead pressed against yours. His fingers dug into your sweat-soaked back as he huffed, his breath coming out in heavy pants. You could feel the liquid filling your insides as his warm cum plugged you. His body kept on thrusting as he emptied himself into you. Your vision grew dark as the world turned all of its colors. You felt light-headed, but you didn't want it to end. You couldn’t have it end.

Tendō’s eyes ranked of desire and crave, he had you where he always wanted. Plugged you to be his, lure you back in with his lustful advances, have you stay up till the crack of dawn — waiting for that phone call from him. Make you whine just for the simplest touch from him. He drove you mad. That devilish grin on his face as he had you pinned down, that was all it took for you to fall into temptation's arms again. You were the king and he was the pawn, catching you in checkmate.

“You also still .. love me, right?”

A deep, guttural laugh escaped from him. One that would make someone wince, embarrassed of the question they asked. You wished you could take it back, wish you could go back in time and not say a peep. Wish you could disappear from reality. Just this once.

“Yes. Of course I do, my little devil. But that’s in another lifetime, one where I’m your actual boyfriend.”

You’ve felt this moment before. Tasted those same words leaving your lips, savored them to the hilt. This exact feeling felt familiar like you’ve experienced it before. You were trapped in a haze of deja vu, going around in circles and repeating the same actions from before. Just like now, what you asked him. You asked him before.

“Checkmate.”

[quirkfics]

eager | gang orca

wordcount: 1569  warnings: smut, established relationship, belly bulge, penetrative sex, fingering, dirty talk, oral (just, lemon the whole way through) pairing: Gang Orca/Kugo Sakamata x Gender neutral reader note: Old but new fic! Written for the After Hours patreon way back when, with a very minor amount of sprucing up. I was.. tempted to wait til May to post it, because of MerMay stuff, but it’s been sitting almost done in here for a while. Enjoy!

Being able to work yourself open, to leave yourself messy and slick with lube has always been a prerequisite when it comes to fucking Kugo. His fingers are lovely, with the way his nails prick your skin, or how they curl behind your neck to pull you close, but they're far too sharp for tender places. Kugo's mouth is infinitely better, and the soft roll of his tongue against your most intimate parts? The thought never fails to leave you aching for want of him. Yet, to use his mouth, you both have to be patient, steady and slow. You've suffered more than one sharp knick from his razor-fine teeth, and you're not interested in taking that much time or holding that still. Not tonight. 

“Deeper,” Kugo says, voice so low and rough that you have to pause and take a breath, hand trembling, before you push your fingers into yourself as far as you possibly can. The noise it makes is obscene, and it's more than enough to have Kugo frozen in the midst of unbuttoning his suit jacket. “Back in,” he rasps, as soon as you attempt to pull your fingers out. “Hold still for a moment,” he adds and you have to clench around your own fingers, eyes fluttering momentarily closed. Kugo turns his attention back to divesting himself of clothes, moving to set each item carefully over the back of a clean chair.

The position you're in has your thighs trembling, and you must make some kind of low, desperate noise, because he glances at you over his shoulder. “All the way out, and in again,” he allows, eyes bright, and you follow his directions, breathing out slowly as you stretch yourself. He goes quiet again, angled so he can just barely see you. 

“Kugo?” You ask after a moment, watching him curl those sharp fingers around the chair back. His shoulders roll, and his biceps flex, before he finally let's go of the chair. He turns back to face you, cock thick and heavy between his thighs. The sight has you closing your eyes for a moment, and a choked moan escapes your lips as he crosses the room. “Please?” You gasp, when he comes to a stop at the end of the bed. 

“You're always so eager for it,” he murmurs, reaching down to take himself in hand. You breathe out a curse, thighs quivering while you watch that dark, sharp fingered hand stroke roughly over his shaft. He walks around the edge of the bed, eyes zeroed in on your panting mouth. “You can never wait to have me inside you.” You don't even attempt to deny it. The thought of that thick cock in your mouth, or of him thrusting up into the heat of you, has you absolutely salivating for it. Your teeth catch on your bottom lip, and you curl your fingers, lube squelching with the motion.

“Please, Kugo, I want you to fuck me. Want your cock. I wan—” a moan strangles your voice in your throat when Kugo reaches out, sharp nails terribly gentle on your scalp. He urges you closer to the edge of the bed, patient as you adjust yourself so you can reach him, fingers still slippery inside you. 

“Open your mouth,” he demands. Your lips part without hesitation, and then Kugo is guiding you towards his cock with a soft pressure against the crown of your head. He lifts himself, fingers curled around the dark length of it, stroking up to where the shaft fades into white, and the flush of palest pink. Kugo presses his cock head against your tongue, and groans when your lips close around him. He's too big for much more of him to fit in your mouth, but it's always fun to try. You suck, rolling your tongue against the smooth skin, making soft, impatient noises when he curses. “Look at that mouth of yours,” he growls, squeezing the base of his cock, rocking it gently out, brushing it against your teeth and lips, before he pushes back in. He continues the motion, jaw slowly dropping as he watches his cock disappear into your mouth, his sharp teeth gleaming in the half light. You hum softly, eyes fluttering closed, and simply lose yourself in the sensation of him, slick skin sliding over your lips. There's a small pulse against your tongue—he's getting harder—and then Kugo is pulling away. The motion is too fast, leaving you messy with saliva, drips of it on your chin, and before you can even think to wipe it away, Kugo is pushing you back onto the bed. You go without a fight.  

“Will you—” You start, but Kugo shushes you, a single finger pressed to your mouth for maybe a second, before he starts to pull away. The curl of his nail catches against your bottom lip though, and you can't resist flicking your tongue out to taste. He chuckles, and reaches down to gently tug at your wrist, silently urging you to pull your fingers out of yourself.

“You'll get what you want,” he assures you, voice deep and steady—and then he's breathing in sharply, watching your fingers come out messy and dripping. The sudden emptiness leaves you aching, but Kugo's careful hands are stroking up your thighs, parting them as he kneels on the bed. You wriggle, even though you know you won't be left wanting. 

He starts off slow, taking your slick hand and curling it around his cock, putting the remnants of lube to good use. The feel of him, wonderfully hot and heavy, curving in your hand, makes you even more eager than before.

“Please, Kugo?” You ask, squeezing, angling the hard length of him towards what you really want. “I've been waiting, I've been good—oh, fuck. Fu-” The soft rub of his cock against you has you trembling, legs spreading even further, and then he pushes, and all you want to do is arch your hips, urge him to go faster, but-

“You're always good for me,” he rasps, slowly working himself inside you, in and out, and further in, on every thrust. You lay back, biting at your bottom lip, fisting your hands in the sheets near your head to keep yourself from interrupting. Kugo is slow and steady, pushing until you're gasping, his hands sliding up your thighs and then curling around your hips, anchoring you. You feel almost too full now, and still, he can't fit all of himself inside you. “So good, so-” He rolls his hips, and his eyes fall closed when he bottoms out, nails pricking into your skin. Kugo stops, just taking a moment to breathe, and you know he’s giving you time to adjust to his girth, but you just want more. More movement, more noise, as much of him as he’s willing to give, filling you up, over and—your brain short circuits, desire overriding any attempt to plan things out.

“Fuck me,” you plead, breath leaving you in a rush as you lift your hips. Your abdomen bulges slightly, too full, and then, finally, Kugo is moving. He leans over you, hands sliding up your body until he’s tweaking your nipple with one hand and bracing himself on his other forearm. 

“No please?” He asks, voice low and strained, but teasing. If the light were better, you’re sure you would spy a smile in his eyes. Instead you’re hyper focused on the feeling of his cock almost slipping out of you as he pulls back, and then, with one swift thrust, he’s back inside, and you can’t stop talking. 

“Yes, yes, please, all of it. Give me, give-” You grunt, eyes falling closed as he starts rocking into you steadily, just a little faster than before. “Want all of you, just, Kugo!” He’s gentle, careful, even while he fucks you, and the sharpness of his teeth against your shoulder has your arousal spiking. You let go of the sheets, sliding one of your hands up the side of his face, reaching towards his dorsal fin and scream when he bottoms out inside you again, teeth pressing harder into your skin. “Kugo, Kugo, I’m gonna come, fuck, fuck!” 

He doesn’t let up, hips slapping against the back of your thighs as he fucks you through orgasm. There’s a harsh groan against your shoulder, his wide tongue laving over the marks he’s left, and then Kugo is pulling back, just enough to see your face, bracing himself on both forearms. “I couldn’t wait to watch—watch you fall apart,” he rasps, and maybe you’re oversensitive, with your legs still shaking, but everything, his cock inside you, the press of his body ; it feels hotter. Blistering. “I’ve been able to think of little else,” he adds, and then his pace skips. His hips stutter, thrusts becoming choppy, and then you’re full again, gasping and messy as he comes inside you, sharp fingers curling into the sheets. Kugo is moaning, forehead pressed to yours, and one more sharp thrust has you cursing, and then laughing, soft and pleased, when he slumps onto you with a sigh. “Something amusing?” He asks, but he sounds like you, content, relaxed. 

“Happy,” you murmur, pressing a small kiss to his nose. “Potentially looking forward to another round. After cleanup?” Kugo pulls back, looking down at the mess he’s made of you with a pleased expression. 

“Most definitely.”

[kodzukenscorner]

Sakusa, Kenma, Oikawa, and Tsukishima getting jealous (NSFW)

anon asked: hello!! i saw tht ur requests are open so can i request a HC with jealous Sakusa,Kenma,Oikawa,Tsukki and Hoshiumi and can it be abit NSFW😳 i love your writings btw🥰💗

a/n: i only accept 4 people per request so i cut hoshiumi out since he was the last one mentioned. also doing this request because it’s oikawa’s birthday!!

wc: 2,034

✶   ✶   ✶   ✶   ✶

Sakusa

Sakusa is not someone who gets jealous easily

What bothers him a lot more is when people get way too close to you for comfort

He does not say anything when he sees someone getting too close to you he just tries to stand closer to you

Only this time the guy who was desperately trying to flirt with you just did not seem to be taking the hint

Even with Sakusa looming menacingly behind you, this guy was not getting it

And bless your heart, you were far too kind to tell him to leave you alone

But this was not sitting well with Sakusa so he grabbed your arm and pulled you right into his chest

He doesn’t usually initiate any PDA but he wasn’t just going to sit back and let someone hit on you right in front of him

You were surprised but let him wrap his arms around you anyway, enjoying the warmth radiating off of him

The guy finally seemed to get it and left you alone

You looked up at Sakusa smiling at him as a way to thank him for helping you but he kept his normal deadpan face

And even stranger was the gleam in his eyes that you didn’t recognize

Before you knew it he had an arm around your waist and was leading you back home

You tried to ask him what was going on but he just remained silent and was on a mission to get you home

As soon as he got you through the door he led you into the bathroom and locked the door behind him

He started stripping you of your clothes while you stood there dumbfounded

“O-Omi? What are you doing?” 

He looked you straight in the eye while he turned on the shower

“He got too close to you, we need to clean you up”

He pushed you into the shower and he took off his own clothes before joining you

Ah, so this is what Sakusa is like when’s jealous huh?

Soon all thoughts left your mind when Sakusa grabbed the shower head and brought it down to spray directly onto your clit

You moaned and leaned into his chest for support 

“You need to be cleaned inside and out” He mumbled before slipping two of his slender fingers into you

All you could do was hold onto his arms and mewl

He pumped his fingers into you a few times but had an unsatisfied look on his face

He pulled his fingers out and put the shower head down

You looked up at him, face still flushed

“We need to cleaner deeper”

Your eyes widened when you felt his hard dick slide into you and suddenly he had you up against the wall, with your legs wrapped around his waist

He started thrusting into you much harder than he normally did and your nails dug into his shoulders

“You won’t let anyone get you dirty again will you?” He whispered gruffly in your ear

“No Omi, I promise” You managed to squeak out 

He groaned in response and the only other sounds were your endless moans and the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin

Kenma

Kenma does not ever let it show when he gets jealous and honestly, it doesn’t happen very often

He usually gets very insecure and worries about you finding someone better to date

But god, what really made his blood boil was when his friends flirted with you

He knew it was all just playful and in good fun but it still got under his skin seeing Kuroo so close to you

And you weren’t pushing him away, in fact you were flirting right back as if Kenma wasn’t right there watching both of you

As soon as Kuroo was gone you made your way over to Kenma who was sitting in his chair, playing a game

You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind and nuzzled into his neck

He grumbled and shrugged you off

“Oh now you have time for me? Done flirting with Kuroo?”

You blinked in surprise and just stared at the back of his head

“Kenma were you jealous?”

He stayed silent and focused on his game 

“It wasn’t serious” You stated

You moved in front of him so you could see his face and you were shocked to see he was scowling at his game

You stayed there waiting for him to react and squatted down between his legs

He stared at his screen like he was contemplating something and finally put his game down and pulled you so you were straddling his lap

His lips immediately attached to yours while his hands had a death grip on your hips

You did your best to keep up with his kiss but he was feverish and rough

Soon one of his hands slid into your pants and cupped your pussy which caused you to gasp in surprise

He took his opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth and his fingers pushed your panties to the side so he could properly rub against your wet folds

You started grinding against his hands and he started teasingly slipping a finger into your eager cunt

You pulled away from his lips to let out a breathy moan when you finally felt one of his fingers delve into you

He moved his kisses to your neck and slid another finger in, curling them inside of you

At this point you had started bouncing lightly on his fingers as he used his thumb to rub your clit

You tangled your hands into his hair as he slipped a third finger into you

“More, please” You begged and he obliged, adding a fourth finger while his thumb continued it’s ministrations on your clit

You were bouncing desperately on him as he nearly fisted his hand into you

You could feel your orgasm coming and just as it was about to wash over you, you felt nothing

You looked at Kenma and he had removed his hand completely 

“You think girls who flirt with my best friend deserve to cum?” 

You groaned and slumped against his chest

Note to self: do not make Kenma jealous

Oikawa

Okay out of everyone, Oikawa gets the most jealous and he gets jealous so easily

Literally everything sets him off and he turns into the biggest pouting baby

Even if you’re just talking with his friends normally he has to pull you into his lap and glare at his own friends

It’s kind of ridiculous

But you had never seen him actually get jealous before

That is until some guy thought it was a good idea to ask for your number when Oikawa was just a few feet away

You didn’t even get the chance to turn the guy down before Oikawa grabbed you and planted a deep kiss on your lips right in front of this guy

He wasn’t letting you go either, he had an arm firmly wrapped around you waist and he was already slipping his tongue into your mouth

He stuck a leg between your thighs and grinded you against him, causing you to let out a little moan

When Oikawa finally pulled away, you were horny and flustered

There was a string of saliva still connecting you and he made eye contact with the guy who had asked for your number

He was stunned and couldn’t move and Oikawa just smirked at him and moved one of his hands down to squeeze your ass

You jumped and hit his chest and the poor guy finally walked away, very embarrassed

“Tooru! What were you thinking now I’m all...” you trailed off, far too embarrassed to admit you had gotten turned on in the middle of a gym

“What’s wrong baby? Oh let me help you out” He smirked and led you to a storage closet where he pushed you down on the mats 

You stared up at him with wide eyes as he stood over you with that same smug look on his face

He slid his pants off and his hard dick sprung free

He started stroking himself and you gulped but you were so eager you took off your own clothes and spread your legs for him

“Such a good girl, you’re already dripping for me”

For some reason jealous Oikawa was such a turn on for you so you just spread your wet pussy open for him and whimpered at the cold breeze

“Please Tooru, I need your help”

He finally succumbed to your begging and got on his knees, easing his cock into your awaiting pussy

You both moaned at the delightful feeling and he made you look down at where you were both connected

“Look how good you’re taking me all in baby”

You moaned at the sight of him sliding his dick half way out and slamming it all right back into you

“That dumbass couldn’t fuck you like this, could he?”

You shook your head as Oikawa started drilling into you

“No Tooru, only you”

He had a bruising hold on your hips as he rammed into you and he made you watch each time as your tight pussy sucked him right back in

God you should really make him jealous more often

Tsukishima

Tsuki does get jealous from time to time but he is remarkably good at hiding it

But he is 100% the kind of person who lets his jealousy build overtime until it finally spills over

So to you it seems like he snaps at the smallest things

But he’s been watching you get hit on by random people for days and he’s seen the stares people give you when you’re walking together

All of this has gotten completely under his skin and he has had just about enough of it

So when Yamaguchi very innocently tells you that you look nice, Tsuki almost kills him right then and there

Before you can thank Yamaguchi, you’re being pulled away and Tsuki is coming up with some excuse for why the two of you have to leave right now

You are very confused but Tsuki has a firm grip on your wrist and he looks completely pissed off

You ask him what’s wrong and he just looks at you with the sharpest glare

“He said you looked pretty”

You were completely confused, why would he even get jealous over that?

Soon he had brought you back to his place and pushed you down on the couch

“Change”

“H-huh?” You looked up at him in complete disbelief 

“You can’t keep wearing those clothes if people are going to hit on you”

“But I don’t have any other clothes to wear?”

“Then strip”

You weren’t going to argue with him when he had that look in his eyes so you tentatively took off your clothes until you were just sitting there in your bra and panties

Tsuki kept his gaze trained on you as you tried to cover yourself up with your hands, feeling very exposed and embarrassed 

He knelt down in front of you and rubbed his hands along your thighs, placing little kisses here and there

“Only I get to see you look like this okay?”

You nodded as you watched him pry your legs apart and lick a stripe up your clothed pussy

You shuddered as he peeled your panties off and brought his tongue to your now bare folds

“So pretty” He mumbled against your core and his hot breath elicited a tiny moan from you

Soon he was kissing your pussy and shoving his tongue in as far as it would go

Your moans grew louder as you brought your hand to his head and pushed his head closer to you

He held your legs wide open every time you tried to clamp your thighs around his head

He wasn’t letting up anytime soon as you started to whine and squirm 

He sucked and nibbled and all you could do was call out his name in desperate squeals

If this was how he treated you when he got jealous you were going to get him riled up a lot more

[kiirokero]

Outro: Love is Not Over (8)

Pairing: Daycare Teacher! Hoseok x Single Mom! Reader.

Genre: Single Parent! AU, Teacher! AU, Hybrid! AU, Fluff, Angst, Adorable Kids,

Warnings: Nothing much, just fluff and some romance wink wonk

Word Count: 1.1k

Note: Happy day of starting life to me, Imma go splurge on pizza now.

Summary: Years after a relationship goes south. You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. He is the light of your life. Yunho is everything to you, and you’d do anything for him. But you’re a human. Yunho doesn’t care, he will tell you he doesn’t. “You’re still my Eomma. No matter what.” He says. But you can’t help but feel like you will never be enough for him. You can’t be the mother he deserves. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. But you try. You try your damn hardest. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

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    It was 11pm. The inky black void of the night sky peered through the closed curtains as Yunho continued to watch his show. Yunho was hanging on to conciousness by a thread, and more than once I had tried to get him to go to bed, but every time he shook his head, insisting that he was fine and that he just wanted to stay next to me. It made my heart clench.

    Reluctantly, I let him. I let him drawl on about how worried he was when the main character got trapped by the villain. I let him lean on my shoulder while he stubbornly held his eyes open. I let him do what he felt was best for himself. As long as he wasn’t hurting himself. He’d probably sleep all day tomorrow, but if staying up with me brought him peace of mind, I’d let him do it. 

    Yunho’s ears perked up and eyes shot open when a knock sounded at the door. He looked at me, wide-eyed, fisting his hand tighter into my sweatshirt. “Eomma?” He whispered, and I gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, bub. It’s just a friend,” Yunho nodded, getting up along with me as I went to answer the door. 

     When I opened the door, I couldn’t stop the small smile of pure happiness that made its way onto my face when the handsome German Shepard hybrid filled my vision. He was dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, much like myself, and had slightly ruffled hair. His warm, heart-shaped smile graced his face as he held up a plastic bag. “I brought the goods!” He chuckled, looking down at my legs where Yunho was hiding. 

    Yunho recognized Hoseok, but didn’t immediately come out, opting to look up at him curiously from afar. “Say hi, bub,” I encouraged, putting a hand on the top of his head, playing with the blonde fur that hung from his ears. “Hi...” Yunho whispered, his tail slowly wagging side-to-side when Hoseok’s said hello back. Hoseok slowly leaned down so he was about eye-level with Yunho, but still keeping a respectful distance. 

    “Hey Yunho, do you remember me?” Hoseok asked, playfully tilting his head to the side. Yunho silently nodded, easing up a little bit. “I’m glad. Your Eomma was telling me that you had a bad day,” Hoseok continued, and Yunho squeaked out a “Yeah... Bad day...” earning a smile of sympathy from the older hybrid. “That sucks, but guess what! I brought ice cream!” Hoseok’s experience with kids was really showing now, knowing exactly what to say and how to say it. 

    I chuckled at Yunho’s starry-eyed expression, sending Hoseok an appreciative smile as Yunho came out from around my legs and went up to stand in front of Hoseok, sniffing the bag. “Eomma, can I?” Yunho asked hopefully, looking back up towards me. I don’t know whether it was his puppy eyes or well-behaved manners that made my heart squeeze, but it didn’t matter because the answer was yes, anyway. 

    “Of course bub, but let’s get to the kitchen first, okay?” I responded, picking Yunho up and guiding Hoseok towards the kitchen. Hoseok put the bag down on the counter along with his keys, turning to me, waiting for any sort of instruction or objection. “Thank you again, Hoseok,” I smiled, but Hoseok just waved me off with a smooth, “It’s nothing! Ice cream makes everything better,” Smiling, not realizing just how meaningful the gesture was to me and Yunho. 

    I got out a bowl and spoon for Yunho, asking him to wait in the living room while I get him his treat. Yunho did what I asked, somewhat reluctantly, but after I reminded him that he could see me from the couch, he relented. “Classic vanilla,” I chuckled, scooping out some of the cold deliciousness. “Can’t go wrong with vanilla,” Hoseok chirped, filling up bowls of our own. 

    Soon, all three of us were sitting on the couch, Yunho in the middle of Hoseok and I, shoveling down his vanilla ice cream with vigor. “And that’s how rainbows are made!” Yunho exclaimed with ice cream around his mouth, finishing the rant he’s been on for 5 minutes after Hoseok asked him about the show he was watching. Yunho had just learned how rainbows were made thanks to the programme, and he was eager to share that information to everyone. You, Hyejin, Yoongi, Hajun, Namjoon (somehow) and now Hoseok. 

But Hoseok didn’t mind. No no. He was actively encouraging him. 

    “Wow! That’s so cool! You’re so smart, Yunho,” Hoseok gushed, getting Yunho to blush and look away, fiddling with the edge of his space themed pajama top. “Thank you,” Yunho smiled, leaning back onto your shoulder. “I also know how to count to twenty!” Yunho boasted, puffing out his chest. Hoseok dramatically gasped, indulging the proud hybrid boy. “Amazing! Can you show me?” Hoseok asked, and Yunho confidently (and correctly) counted to twenty. 

    Both you and Hoseok clapped, and you didn’t miss the way Yunho seemed to relax a bit more. “I also painted a dragon at school! I’ll go get it! Stay here,” Yunho bubbled, running up the stairs. “Careful!” I called after him. “Okay!” He called back, voice now distant. Now it was just you and Hoseok alone, listening to the childish dialogue of the cartoon playing in the background. 

    “You’re a lifesaver, Hoseok,” You sighed, slumping into the couch. “It’s nothing. Y/n, really. We all have those days, even kids like Yunho,” He shrugged, finishing the last bite of his ice cream. “No, really, you have no idea how much this means. I mean, Yunho seems to really like you,” I pointed out, trying my best to stress just how hopeless the situation seemed before he got here. 

    Hoseok put his bowl down on the coffee table, turning his entire body towards me, giving me his full attention. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” He proclaimed, looking me right in the eyes. It felt like I was back in the cafe, on our little lunch get-together. Nothing but the two of us and the smell of coffee. His ears flinched, but his earthy hues never strayed from mine. His stare pulling me into an all too familiar trance. It blurred all other stimulation out and nothing but Hoseok filled my senses. 

Was he always this attractive?

Is his skin as smooth as it seems?

Why was the slight timbre in his voice so enticing? 

Where does he buy his cologne? 

What do his lips taste like-

    “I found it! Here!” Yunho cheered, shoving a wrinkled paper into Hoseok’s hands. Hoseok looked confused for a minute before he shook off whatever just happened and gave Yunho a big smile, complimenting him on his artwork. I shook my head, trying to get the thoughts that invaded my head to go away. I can’t. I just met the guy! I can’t let my emotions get the best of me. I’m just touch starved, that’s it. Nothing else. 

    Except that’s what I wish was the case. But the warmth in my heart when I found Hoseok and Yunho snuggled together, asleep, was too much to ignore. Yunho’s chubby cheeks pressed against Hoseok’s shoulder made him look like a dumpling, and the way Hoseok quietly snored shouldn’t have been attractive, but it was. I couldn’t ignore the feeling of home that filled my chest whenever I saw Hoseok and Yunho interact... But I found myself trying anyway...

[fictionfunshop]

Art Lessons

** Sorry not sorry

UPDATE - woke up to over 30 like for this thanks everyone 😍 drop me a message if you have a dirty Matthew/Reid request! **

I took in all the colours in front of me, slashes of black with hints of green and peeking specks of yellow. Something was soothing about standing in front of it, my eyes darting around the canvas, trying to see all the colours and shapes, hoping to memorise every stroke. Life at a marketing agency kept me busy, but I loved to explore the city I called home for the last three years. One weekend you could be in Central Park on the Loeb enjoying a champagne brunch, the next you could be enjoying some hip restaurant in the West Village on your books New York has opened your mind since you first landed so much that nothing phases you anymore, and you thank her for it every morning you wake up and stare out your window to the river.

This Saturday was a relaxing one; I had already treated myself to my favourite croissant from a local French bakery for breakfast, browsed a book-store I always pass on the way to the office but never get the chance to visit, before you headed into the gallery to feed your eyes on Picassos and Monets. You were aware he was standing next to you, his body heat radiating from him.

"Did you know that this is one of the last pieces Pollock painted?" Even though his voice was in a low rasp, it broke the quiet tension of the gallery space.

You glanced over at him, noticing him for the first time. A bold patterned blue shirt made the light tan of his arms and chest pop; his slim jeans hugged his lanky frame perfectly. His chestnut hair was messy; the attempt to tuck strands behind his ear had been futile. His eyes were like conkers, shiny and holding some childlike innocence behind them.

"I did – did you know that he was in a car with his mistress when he died?" you whisper back. He grinned at your bold reply.

"I did not, but I'll remember it to impress the next time I'm at a gallery."

You fully turn to face him now, "do you usually go to art galleries and scare people with facts?"

"I'm trying not to make it into a habit", he chuckles, "you were standing here for a very long time."

It's now you notice his height, the top of your head barely grazing his shoulder. "It's a big canvas; every time I look at it, I see other colours I haven't picked up on before or a shape I want to decipher."

"I'm Matthew, by the way," he extends his hand out to me

"I'm Mia," you capture him in yours, gazing into his eyes. "I'm guessing you're not from around here?"

"I live in L.A, originally from Vegas," He starts walking to the next frame, and you follow ", and you're not from New York either."

"Nope, I moved here a few years ago. I lived in Chicago my whole life."

We stop and look at the painting in front of us, trading whatever information we know and more prodding questions. I had found out; surprisingly, he was ten years older than me, an avid reader and a painter himself just like Pollock. After the final frame, he asked you to join him for coffee around the corner to trade more art secrets you accepted.

"So what brings you to New York?"

"Visiting some friends and I have a few work meetings", he replies, taking a sip of his cortado. "what brought you to New York?"

"I'm a client Director for a marketing agency here. I worked at their Chicago office for a few years before I got this promotion. What do you do?"

The more you took in his features, he looked familiar.

"I do a bit of everything; I direct, I write a bit, I act here and there…"

"Anything I might have seen?" you were intrigued; you figured he must be successful if he has coastal meetings on his career. That and you noticed a woman in the corner of the café staring at him since he slumped into the wooden chair when you arrived.

"I'm in the show Criminal Minds? I've directed a few episodes too."

"That's cool. Are you here for the show or something else?" You hoped your reply came off breezy, but inside, your heart was hammering. It's not often you meet successful, handsome actors let alone spend hours with them in a gallery and now sharing a muffin and some coffee.

"I'm working on a book right now, so I've to meet the publishers. I figured while I was here, I would visit some friends and galleries, maybe meet a beautiful woman to talk to."

He says the last line with no shame, staring into your blue eyes and relaxing into the chair. While you never thought you were ugly, the line still made your cheeks warm.

"Thank you; it's not every day for me that I get famous actors flirting with me." Building since you first traded facts, the tension is now undeniable and hanging thick; you can see his eyes dart from your lips back to your eyes.

"If you've no other plans today, I have a few art books at mine you can have a look at?" you take the last gulp of your coffee. He nods his head, knocking back the last of his. He throws down some cash on the table and stumbles out of his chair, following you outside. You hail down a passing yellow taxi and jump in. You give your address to the driver before you turn your head, him sitting so close to you now you pick up his light cologne smell. His hand grips the back of your head and smashes into your lips. After a few hard kisses, you let a low moan escape when his tongue touches yours for the first time. Your hand finds his chest, your fingers teasing his exposed skin, which lets out the guttural groan. From him as he moves his hands from your neck to your waist, practically forcing you to sit on his lap. The taxi jolts to a stop, forcing you both to untangle. You hand the driver a wad of notes before you hop out, slightly embarrassed that he had seen that display between you both. He jumps out the other side, follows you inside your building and up the 4th floor to your apartment. Behind closed doors again, he pinned you against the wooden frame, his fingers tangling in your hair before drawing his thumb across your full bottom lip. His eyes are practically black now, and his hair an even bigger mess than before; you twist a finger around an escaped curl on the nape of his neck.

"You are so fucking gorgeous." He presses his lips against yours with the same neediness as in the taxi.

His hands can't stay in one place, moving from your cupping your ass and hips to moving up your ribcage to your heaving chest. Your nimble fingers make work on the buttons of his shirt before he shrugs it off your shoulders.

"Turn around." He growls, and you comply, your centre now throbbing. He finds the small zipper of your dress and pulls it down. His hand snakes under the material while the other slides the thin straps from your shoulders and lets the material now pool at your feet. You press your back into his chest, his fingers now pinching your nipples, biting your lip to stops the moans from escaping. His lips find your bare shoulder, sponging kisses up to your neck where he nips at the flesh. You barely have your clothes off, but Matthew already has all your weak spots mapped out; maybe there is some truth in older men being better lovers that your friends tried to explain once. You break away and guide him to your bedroom, pushing him onto the bed gently where he props himself up on his elbows. You slide out of your sandals before kneeling between his legs. He sits up straight, dipping his head to meet yours in a kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair, waiting for your next move. You sponge kisses down his chest, nipping at his nipples, earning a groan from him while your hands loosen his belt and jeans. He helps slide them down his legs, and you untie his converse and throw them across the room.

"Do you have odd socks on?" your eyes widen in shock and add a playful air to the sexual tension.

"Good luck charm", he smirks back. You go back to teasing him, placing quick kisses across the band of his boxers before you make small work of them, adding to his pile of clothes now in the corner. You grip his erection in your hand, and you can feel how painfully hard he is, the tip already leaking with pre-cum before you get to work. You take long licks from the base, circling the top before you cover it with your lips and let it slide down your throat. Your hand jerks the bottom you can't cover.

"Fuck…" He mumbles, his fingers tangling in your hair and guiding the pace. You moan in response as you take him further in your mouth, inch by inch. Soon, you feel him hit the back of your throat, and his mumbles have turned into full-on moans, bouncing against the four walls. You know he's close, his cock is twitching in your mouth, and you can feel his grip in your hair tighten.

"So close, feels too good." You look up at him and set your eyes on him, his chest now glistening with sweat, his teeth pulling at his bottom lip, trying to contain his moans.

You keep his eye contact as you watch him come, some swear words tumbling out of his mouth. You swallow every last drop of him before he pulls you by the arm to join him in your bed. He kisses you again as he pushes you down on your mattress and positions himself between your thighs. His hands cradle your hips as he slides your underwear down your legs and tosses them to the side. He sits up and places chaste kisses on your thighs before he settles himself between your legs. Your head cranes back in the pillow as your hand grips the sheets at the first touch from his tongue, flicking lightly against your clit. He then sucks it between his lips as your hips lift off the bed; he holds them down as you grind into his face, now desperate for release. One of your hands played with your nipples when his fingers joined in, moaning his name so loudly you were sure you'd have a noise complaint tomorrow. Your hand moves to his hair as you can feel yourself tighten around his fingers before you feel yourself come, screaming his name one last time. He emerges, licking his lips before climbing back up and kissing you, letting you taste yourself. His kisses now were slow and deep, a shocking comparison to earlier but one you welcomed while you recovered.

"Do you have protection?" He rasped in your ear. You pulled out your top drawer on your nightstand and handed him the small silver packet, now thanking yourself that you kept stock. He made light work of putting it on before he settled back in between your legs, sliding the tip down your slit before he guides himself into you, not breaking eye contact. He pulls his hips back and slams into you, your nails finding his back and digging in. He set a quick pace, the sound of your hips crashing into each other filling the air. His lips find your chest, and he sinks his teeth into your nipples once again, earning a yelp from you. He notices the grip your nails have on his back release a little, so he uses this chance to pin them over your head.

"You still feel so tight around me."

"Hmmm…Matthew…so close" I feel my hands loosen their grip, letting me rub my clit as he continues to pound into me, his strokes now sloppy telling you he was near too. You were the first to go over the edge, tears coming from your eyes as you clenched around him a few strokes later, and some dirty encouragement he followed. He collapses on top of you for a few moments afterwards, steadying his breathing before he peels himself off you and cleans himself up. You could already feel yourself ache all over, but you needed him again already.

"So that was unexpected," he laughs.

"Yeah, I could still show you the art books if you want?"

He shakes his head. "I thought you could give me your phone number, and we go for dinner tomorrow?"

You nod you're head. You couldn't wait.

[fiveisnumber1]

Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Main story parts:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30

_________________________

Pt 30 - Countdown to Chaos

After Five had vanished to go make a deal with the devil, you stood in the emptiness of the night staring at the spot where he had been. You weren't sure how you thought the night was supposed to go but it definitely didn't go the way it should've. It was a mess, an absolute clusterfuck, and yet, you weren't surprised. Of course, the Hargreeves were going to have a hard time confronting their father. They hadn't seen the man in years, especially Five, who had seen him last when he ran away from home and got stuck. You knew their trauma was long-lasting but they could've worked together rather than working against each other. And now here you all were, separated again and having to go down even more risky channels to get out of this god-forsaken timeline. You shook your head and let out a sigh as there was nothing left to do tonight but go home. Slowly you turned away from the building and walked the block slowly to where Charlie said he'd be parked. As you approached you made your way over to the passenger side and opened the door. Charlie looks over towards you and immediately notices the look on your face.

"Oh it was BAD bad, wasn't it?" He asks

As you got in the passenger seat you slumped down in it and replied,

"Immensely so."

"I called it. I knew having them get together with their dad was going to be worse than yesterday." Charlie comments as he starts to drive away

You knew he was right and he did call it but this was not the place to be doing so. The world was on a collision course and you were right in the path of destruction. You turn your head to look at him as you state,

"This is no time for bragging Charlie, things got really messed up."

"Well, it's not like you revealed your powers," Charlie says nonchalantly

You place your face in your hands as you slump further into your seat. Charlie takes a glance over to you as he drives and questions,

"You didn't reveal your powers, right?"

Taking your face out of your hands you look towards him with an awkward grimaced expression but don't say any words. Charlie glances back over and you and when he realizes you're not saying anything he slams on the breaks stopping the car. His eyes go wide as he quickly states,

"(Y/N), this is bad."

"I know!" you exclaim

"(Y/N) this is really bad. How did this happen?" He replies, a hint of panic in his voice

"I didn't really plan on doing it but then Reggie was going on a tirade at Diego and Diego was getting so sad and so I got mad and I threw a knife at Reggie and became visible and then I had to explain myself and then I got angrier and started showing off my powers and now he knows I have powers and I really fucked up." You rant frantically

"Oh no, this is bad...this is bad."

"That's not even the worst part." You complain

"What could be worse than showing your powers to Reginald?!"

"HE SAID HE WAS MY FATHER!" You yell

"Oh god, that IS worse!" Charlie exclaims back "Oh this is so bad. This is really really bad (Y/N)."

"I know and like...I love all the Hargreeves dearly, even Luther who is being a dick to me right now, but holy shit when everyone gets together everything falls apart and so fast. Like surprisingly fast."

"What do we do? Do you have a plan? You have a plan right?" Charlie asks distressed

"Well, I don't think I can get Allison to rumor him into forgetting I have powers because that would require getting her to see him in person again and having the two of them talk long enough that she can rumor him which seems unlikely. So in terms of a plan...we have no plan."

"No there has to be a plan." Charlie remarks "Okay okay. What if we all go to Europe? You, me, your boyfriend, and all of his family just up and leave for Europe right now. We'll change our names and start new lives."

"No that wouldn't work."

"Why not?"

"Those people can not effectively gather together even if their life depended on it and I'm pretty sure only you and I have passports at this time so we would be the only ones allowed outside of the country."

"Damn, you're right. "

"Also, on a lesser note, the world is ending in a few days so even if we did all manage to go to Europe it probably would be all for naught."

Charlie sucks in his breath before letting it out defeated. Plopping back into his seat, he looks at the roof of the car before asking,

"So what do we do now then?"

"We go home." You reply quietly

Charlie continues to look up at the ceiling for a bit before letting out a huff. Tilting his head back down to look at the road, he places his hands back on the wheels and slowly starts to drive back to your house. You shook your head disappointment across your face as you thought about the predicament you were in. The predicament you all were in. As you continued to lean back in your seat as you looked at the passing flashes of street lights above. Everything was moving so fast. You knew you would get home at some point no matter how slow Charlie drove or how long the path he drove took and you were worried about what lied at the end of that drive.

Five was not happy with what lied at the end of his journey either. His siblings couldn't keep it together for one evening. Not even an hour. It was ridiculous how unreliable they were. And yet, here he was making his way to the second to last person on earth he'd ask for help to try and get them all back to 2019 where they belonged. He needed to get all of his siblings out of this time but he especially wanted to get you out of here. If he could get everyone back to 2019 then things would be okay and the two of you could have the life together that you deserved.

Five's mind was filled with the thoughts of you. He needed to get you out of this timeline, especially now that this version of his father knew you had powers. He didn't think that his father would hurt you, especially since he had called himself your father, but Reginald was still Reginald and Five was worried about what would come next. You were probably on your way back to the house you shared with that man and any number of things could happen between now and the time he saw you next. He needed to get this contingency plan over with and fast. Arriving at the hotel the handler was staying at he made his way up to the second floor to room 217. As he approached the double-doored room he felt a sense of deja vu. It was only five days for him since he had last met up with her at a different semi-formal hotel room. Five paused in front of the door and took a breath. Raising his hand up he knocked on the door and within seconds the double doors opened to reveal the handler standing behind them. it was as if she knew he was coming. The handler had her signature smile on her face, one that looked happy but hid a sinister nature behind it.

"Ah! Just in time for a nightcap." She commented before heading into the room

Five hesitated for a second before cautiously stepping into the room. He took a look around and the place and once he felt he had scoped it out enough turned around and shut the doors behind him. A critical look was on his face as he approached where the handler stood. With two drinks in her hand and a cigarette between her teeth, the handler turned to look at Five.

"To be clear, I take out the board you get me and my family home. No more doomsday, no more apocalypse. Is that correct?" Five questioned

With a drink in hand, the handler walked over to a nightstand by the bed and picks up a piece of paper before proceeding to slowly lay on her side across the bed. She looks up at Five and replies,

"That's the deal."

Five bites the inside of his cheek as he looks around the room. He really didn't want to do this. He knew that working with her was never going to end well and yet the desire to save you and his family was worth the risk that might come with this deal. Looking back at the handler, Five states,

"Then I'm in."

The handler twiddles a piece of paper in between her fingers before extending it out for Five to take. Five doesn't move from his spot trying not to get any closer to her but leans in slightly so he can grab the paper. Once he takes it from her he unfolds it and reads what it says.

The Lonely Lodger Inn.

Oshkosh, Wisconsin, 1982.

"So how do I get there and back?" Five questioned

"I have a briefcase for you. Specifically, programmed for two trips. One to take you to the exact time and place listed on that note where the board is and one to take you right back to Dallas, on the morning of November 22nd, 1963."

Clever. Of course, she wouldn't just hand him a regular briefcase, then he would be able to bring everyone back without having to go kill the board. Five hated how she was one step ahead of him.

"Where is it?" Five asked

"Oh, the briefcase is in the corner over there." The handler replied taking another puff of her cigarette

Five looked towards his right to the corner of the room she had gestured to and saw a briefcase sitting there. Carefully, he made his way over and grabbed it. As he did so he could feel the handler's laser-like gaze on him, boring into his back. It sent an odd feeling down his spine that he didn't appreciate. Picking up the briefcase, he pocketed the note she gave him before turning around and heading towards the door. As Five reaches out for the door handle, the handler comments,

"Y'know Five, I'm getting pretty tired of not getting to meet your sweet little girlfriend in person. I'm sure you're doing this for her, aren't you?"

Five turns on his heel and with vile in his voice retorts,

"My reasons for doing this are none of your business and you will never meet her."

"Aw, don't be so harsh. I just want to see her up close and take a look at that pretty face you happen to love so much." The handler teases

"If you so much as lay a hand on her I will personally make sure that when you are killed you stay dead this time." Five rebukes

He was done with the handler's games. He hated the way that she talked about you, it made his blood boil, and if the handler wasn't the person he needed to help get everyone out of Dallas he probably would've killed her on the spot. He just hoped that you'd never have to see her in person. Turning back around Five opens the door and starts to walk out. From behind her Five can hear the handler call out,

"We'll see Five. I have my ways."

Not looking back Five stated,

"And I have mine."

And just like that, he was gone and on his way to get back to you as soon as possible.

Soon was not soon enough though because with each minute you got closer and closer to arriving back home at the mansion in Dallas. You and Charlie drove down the road towards the house quietly, nervous tension in the air. Both of you worried about what might occur next. As you passed the estate in which Klaus lived with his cult you knew the drive was almost over. Mentally you tried to prepare yourself as the car rolled up into the driveway of the house. Slowly the car came to a stop in front of the main door. You and Charlie both looked towards the door but didn't move from the car. You weren't nervous per se but this was uncharted territory having someone other than Charlie know about your powers, especially since it was Reggie. After a moment the two of you carefully opened the doors to the car and step out. Closing the car door you stare up at the house that only a few days ago you'd comfortably enter and exit with ease. Charlie makes his way around the car and stands next to you. The two of you continue to look up at the towering building as Charlie states,

"We can dip if you want."

A small smile came to your face and you felt a bit better hearing your friend correctly use one of your future words.

"Good usage." you complimented

"Thank you, but I'm serious. We can go. I'll speed us back to town we can find your boyfriend and just...I don't know do something."

You paused for a second. You could run but it wouldn't be like you. You had been in worse situations in life. You had jumped through time and started over when you were 13, you had fought criminals on multiple occasions, you had almost died, and then jumped through time and started over again. A fire built within you as you remembered the fact that you had lived with since you first met Reginald. You were stronger than this man, he had no hold over you.

"No, Charlie. I've been in worse situations. Whatever lies for me on the other side of that door I can deal with it."

Charlie looked towards and saw the determined look in your eyes as you stared at the building. A smirk came to his face as he could see the fire of courage radiating off of you, but Charlie's smirk faltered though. From the start, your strength had always impressed him, and yet even with your evident bravery he couldn't help but worry for you, his only friend. Charlie let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in before saying,

"Okay, let's go."

You gave him a small nod and the two of you walked into the house. As you arrived in the foyer Marie approached you with a smile on her face. With her hands clasped together in front of her, she greeted,

"Welcome home, (Y/N) and hello, Charlie. Sir Hargreeves has requested to speak with you in his office at your earliest convenience."

"Oh, thank you. We'll head there straight away." You formally replied

You and Charlie started to walk in the direction of his office but Marie stepped in front of the two of you blocking the path. A smile still on her face as she added,

"Alone, miss (Y/N)."

You turned to look at Charlie and you could see the concern in his eyes even if the rest of his face looked blank. Turning to your friend you looked up at him and calmly say,

"Go to my room, Charlie."

Charlie looks at you and his mouth opens a little bit as if he was about to say something but you place a hand on his shoulder squeezing it tightly as you look him in the eyes. In a steady tone you direct,

"Go to my room, Charlie."

Charlie lets out a sigh before giving you a small nod and turning away. You watch as he walks up the foyer stairs to head to your room before turning away and walking towards the office. When you arrive at where the office was you see the door is already open and Reginald is sitting behind his desk vigorously writing in his notebook. Stepping into the doorway you speak in a flat tone,

"You requested my presence?"

"Yes. Take a seat." Reginald replies not looking up from his writing "And get the door will you."

You let out a small huff before walking into the room and closing the door behind you. Approaching him you sit in a chair on the opposite side of the desk, displeasure on your face. You watch as he continues to write not saying anything or even looking up at you. Rolling your eyes you start the conversation,

"Why am I here Reggie?"

Placing his pen down, he stops writing in his notebook and looks up to focus on you. Clasping his hands together he places them on his desk as he responds formally,

"I have questions."

"About what?" you question unenthused

"You, for one" He states, "But also my apparently seven adopted children, and this awful future you all seem to mention."

Your head tilts to the side curiously as a wry smile appears on your face. Crossing your arms you lean back into your chair and look at him. A Latin phrase you had heard many times came to your mind.

"Saepe ne utile quidem est scire quid futuram sit," You spoke

The phrase meaning, often it is not advantageous to know what will be. There was an irony to the words as the person who had said them to you so many times was the man sitting before you. Granted, he had said this to you during the years you lived with him in the future, but it was ironic nonetheless. Reginald's eyebrows raised at your words, looking almost impressed with your response. Leaning forward slightly Reginald replies,

"Sapiens autem semper ad futurum parari."

Knowing Reginald, he would figure out the answers to his questions by whatever means he had to. You were not a fan of the idea of talking about the future with him but if you answered his questions you could at least shape the narrative. Letting out a small breath you uncrossed your arms and sat upright. Reluctantly you nodded towards him, agreeing to whatever line of questioning he had in mind, but added,

"I'll answer questions but I get to decide on how much information is given."

"Fair enough." He responds, reopening his notebook "You were born on the same day as my alleged children?"

"They are your children." You state "and yes, I was on October 1st, 1989 at 12 p.m. sharp like all the others that day."

"But you mentioned you had a father back at dinner." Reginald comments

You paused for a moment. It had been so long since you fully stopped and thought about your dad. It was so long since you last saw him, almost a decade at this point, but you did have a father, and he was the best one you could've asked for. Speaking up again you said,

"I did. He was not biologically related to me but he raised me as if I was. All the children born that day were spontaneous. The women were not pregnant when the day started but by noon all of them had given birth."

"Curious." Reginald remarks

He takes down some notes before looking up at you again and inquiring,

"So if you had your own family, how did you come about mine?"

"Accidentally." You answer curtly

"Elaborate." Reginald requests

You paused again to think about how to word the information he was asking for. You and the Hargreeves had already left an impact on this timeline which made you concerned about the impacts on the future. Although there was a chance everything would be normal upon your return to 2019, you still wondered what could happen given your involvement in the 1960s. You had to be careful with how much you spoke because if the timeline was changed you suspected he might try to find and adopt you. It's not like your mother would even consider giving you up, nor did she ever report the details of your spontaneous birth to anyone other than your father, so you were not one of the 43 he would know about but still...it was risky. You needed to express enough information to quell his curiosity but not enough to implicate yourself and your family.

"My family was around the mansion up north, close enough that the rumors of an eccentric billionaire adopting seven mysterious children, born the same day and time as me, who never left the house, made their way to my parents' ears. They outright told me not to go near the house but curiosity got the best of me and I went anyway." You explain "I used my powers to get through the gates and became invisible to sneak into the courtyard. I just went to have a look around but instead, I was accidentally pushed over a bench and that's when I first came in contact with your family. Specifically, your son Five."

"The one you're partnered with." Reginald certifies

"Correct." You affirm

Reginald turns back down to look at his notebook and writes more in it. You couldn't really see what he was writing but the number of lines of words appearing down on the paper made you both curious and concerned.

"A peculiar first meeting, but I've probably heard worse," Reginald utters as he continues to write

"Oh, thanks." You remarked sarcastically, rolling your eyes

No matter the situation or person he always seemed to find a way to criticize things.

"And the rest of them?"

"I had been using my powers to spend time with Five without being noticed but at some point, we were found out. We came clean and soon after I was introduced to the rest of the children." You say, recalling that first meeting with his siblings

Oh, how simple times were when you were all small and young and the biggest problem you faced was getting enough time to hang out between you going to school and them fighting crime. Things were better back then. Easier. And once again you wondered what life would've been like if Five hadn't jumped all those years ago. You were pulled out of your nostalgic thoughts when you heard Reginald go,

"Interesting."

Placing his pen down Reginald turns back to you.

"I'm assuming the children were under my instruction with their powers, so why are you more powerful and less problematic than them?"

It took a second to register his words but when you did you tilted your head and furrowed your eyebrows at him. Did he really just ask that? How dare he speak about them like that. You knew that he had only met them in passing so it was infuriating to you that he'd to even be making such statements. Now, was he technically correct? Yes. But it didn't give him the right to do so because he didn't know them so he had no basis to talk about such matters. You let out a huff as you started to explain,

"Why am I more powerful? Well, for one I kind of won the power lottery. The power to manipulate molecules, the things that make up our existence, generally can cast a wider net of potential abilities than super strength or rumoring people to do things. Their powers are valid and useful but it's hard to diversify those assets."

As you thought about how you needed to explain this to Reginald you could feel a fire build within you. You sat upright in your chair, with your shoulder back and your arms firmly seated on the armrests, hands forming into fists. You stared him down as he waited for more of a response and when you had formed your thoughts you chastised,

"On top of that, I chose to develop my powers naturally. My parents helped build a foundation so I wouldn't blow the house up or get stuck in a wall but after that, I dictated if I wanted to learn or not. There was no forcing, coercion, or expectations. I learned because I wanted to and my parents supported my efforts with love. It might sound cliche but love truly is the most powerful force in this world, and I'm less 'problematic' as you put it because you didn't raise me. I was raised with that love."

Reginald looked at you quietly, readjusting himself in his seat before saying,

"Are you insinuating that the reason that group was an uncouth disgrace to my legacy was due to my parentage?"

"Insinuating? No. Stating? Yes." you retorted

"Oh really now?" He questioned

"Your children have their issues, but it was of no fault of their own. It was you who instilled these deep-rooted traumas and conflicts in them and provided them with no parental guidance on how to deal with these issues. They had no support system. They were child soldiers rather than children. You gave them numbers one through seven and reduced them to a ranking scale." You berated

You stared at Reginald intensely and he could see the fire in your eyes. Literal fire in your eyes that were red and flickered like glowing embers. Your emotions boiling over to the point where you were starting to physically express them with your power. Reginald's eyes widened as he saw the power you held. Picking up his pen he began to take more notes, but you felt as if you were going to explode if you continued to sit in the chair across from him. Getting up quickly you walked away from the seat and across the room to look out the window. Facing away from him you continued to say,

"And when they were all gone you gave me the number zero because you thought I was better than them. I rejected that number because I am a person and I am not better than them. But the reason you like me so much, the reason you've always liked me better, placed me higher, whether you explicitly showed it or not, is because I'm everything you wanted them to be that they never became. And why is that? Because I was raised as a human not an object of violence."

"So I'm the problem," Reginald replied

"Yes, and the problems only got worse after the incident." You stated

"Where Five ran away into the future and brought you with him?" Reginald suggested

Your eyes went wide as you whipped around to face him, the angry fire within you building as you demanded,

"How do you know about that?"

Reginald looked at you calmly and said,

"He told me when I pulled him away to chat."

You stopped for a second as you processed his words. You didn't expect Five to tell him about that but perhaps he felt open enough to do so. You thought about that day, the one where everything changed, and everyone was put into a more difficult situation than before. Your anger started to fade as you thought about your darker days post jump and the horrors Five had dealt with. Letting out a breath you started to calm down and looking towards the ground you quietly explained,

"Well, yes that was the incident. He got stuck in a wasteland, I was dropped into 2013 where everything that I knew was gone, and the rest of your children had to deal with the fallout of Five's rash decision."

"Unfortunate." Reginald curtly commented

You looked up towards him and looked back towards you. You could see some type of shift in his demeanor before he continued,

"He also mentioned that he spent 45 years in said apocalypse and is most likely older than I am now. Was that in jest? Because it didn't come off that way. And if so I don't know how comfortable I am with you dating someone almost 3 times your age even if he is both my son and the most competent boy I've met so far."

Oh god, not this again. He was acting as a parent. As your father. Disgusting. Your anger and sadness completely faded away and your witty and sarcastic demeanor returned in full swing.

"That's too bad buckaroo." You responded "He looks my age and that's what people are going to notice. Also, he's my best friend, you don't get a say in my dating life, I do what I want."

"Ugh, insolent child. Whatever will I do with you?" Reginald asked rhetorically as he shook his head in disappointment

"Not sure, but something is comforting about you sounding just like the Reggie from the future Umbrella Academy. But let me be honest here, Umbrella Academy is kind of a stupid name. I mean it's on-point branding given your business but it doesn't inspire anything." You explained in a joking yet critical tone

Reginald sat back in his chair as he listened to you rant and criticize the academy he had created. Picking up his pen he began to jot down notes about the criticisms you were giving.

"And don't get me started on that dumb motto. Ut Malum Pluvia." you rant "When evil reigns? I mean I appreciate a good play on words and I can commend you for that but it's so...depressing. You expected your children to save the world with such a hope-crushing motto sewn on their uniform?"

"Well then what would you do?" Reginald asked looking up from his writing

"If I was the parent of seven super-powered children and created an academy with the purpose of saving the world I'd probably take some influence from my mom because she was so bright and hopeful for me before the incident happened and that hope she instilled in me kept me going after."

"So what would you call your academy then?"

You thought for a moment about your mother. The one who unexpectedly gave birth to you and yet called you her own the minute you were born. The one who gave everything to make sure you had the best life. The one who raised you to be the best you could be. The same one who loved and protected you, and whose memory helped to keep you going after you had both disappeared in your own ways. You faded into your thoughts as you recalled the many experiences you shared with her and settled on the one that stood out most.

"The Sparrow Academy." you answered genuinely "My mother used to take me out on summer nights and early mornings before the sun came up to hear the sparrows sing. They were her favorite bird and she always told me that a sparrow's song in the dark leads to a brighter future."

"Canticum in Tenebris." Reginald spoke

"Yes, a song in the dark. Every little bit would all be influenced by her. I have loved many people in my life but if I had to be a part of some academy of children, I'd do it if it was in memory of her."

Reginald finished penning down all that you had said to him and looked up towards you once more. Looking back you broke the silence and asked,

"Do you have any more questions?"

"No."

"Well if we're done here I will be heading to my room because, in all honesty, you terrify Charlie and the longer I stay here the more he'll probably assume I'm dead."

Walking towards the door of the office you hear Reginald's voice from behind you,

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodbye, Reginald."

As you walk out and close the door to the office you make your way back to the foyer so that you could head upstairs to your room. As you do so you see Grace standing in the foyer looking at some piece of paper. When she looks up and sees you she folds the paper up and places it in the pocket of her cardigan.

"Hey, sweetie," She greets

"Oh hey, mom," you respond

"I saw you came from the direction of Reggie's office. Is everything alright?" She asks

"Oh yeah, we were just discussing my new car." You lied

Your mom didn't seem to pick up on your lie though. Instead, she looked around the foyer before taking a step closer to you.

"Well, that's nice." She said "You know what I was thinking? How about you and I pack up all our stuff and take a long trip?"

You were confused as to why she was speaking in a lower tone of voice. It was as if she was trying to hide something or keep others from listening. You lowered your voice a bit as well but tried to act as if everything was normal.

"That sounds fun. Is Reggie coming?" You inquired

"I have to talk with him about his work and then we'll see if he comes along." She answers

"Oh. Alright." You said

Your mom took another step towards you and leaned in closer, cupping your face in her hands. There was a smile on her face as she held you but the emotion in her eyes was less so of happiness and more so of concern. Looking you directly in the eyes your mom quietly states,

"Great, now you go pack everything. Okay?"

Her tone of voice was less like a suggestion and more like a command. And the way she emphasized the word everything took you back a little bit and sent a small chill down your spine. You looked at your mom for answers but she said nothing more.

"Uh." you paused before hesitantly continuing "Okay mom."

Your mom let go of your face and pulled you into a tight hug. Without another word, she walked off towards the living room and you headed up to your room. Opening the door you see Charlie sitting on your bed vigorously bouncing his leg, his hands clasped together so tightly that his knuckles were turning extremely white. When he heard the door open his head shot up to look at you and he sprang off the bed. You entered the room and closed the door behind you before turning back to your friend.

"Are you okay?" He questioned concerned

"I'm fine. Although I did just have a very odd conversation with my mom."

"What happened?"

"I'm honestly not sure. She seemed slightly paranoid and told me to pack up all my stuff. It's not like her." You explained as you paced about your room

"Is she trying to make a run for it with you?" Charlie asked

"Maybe? I don't know." you answered "Although I don't even know what would have her so worried that she wants us to run away, especially since she was completely fine this morning."

"That's very odd." Charlie comments "So what happened with Sir Reginald?"

"Quite a bit. Why don't you take a seat." You suggested

Charlie sat down on the foot of your bed as you paced in front of him recounting as best as you could what had happened in your meeting with Reginald. As you started to detail the events, Five had finally finished his journey to get to you. It took a bit given the fact that where you were and where the handler was were practically on the opposite side of town. The hotel the handler was staying in was nice enough but it still was on the lesser side of Dallas, while you were living in the more affluent area. Five had to navigate his way across town but at least he knew exactly where you were. When he had found the invitation to the Mexican Consulate the address listed on the envelope was not that of 82 Olive Street where the D.S. Umbrella Manufacturing Company was located so he assumed it was sent to the house in which you lived. Carefully, he made his way up the driveway making sure to not be seen by anyone. As he did so he saw Charlie's convertible parked out front confirming that you were here. Making his way around the back he stood in the cover of the trees as he looked through the windows to see if he could find you. On the backside of the house, he could see you in what he assumed to be your room pacing about the place. He needed to get your attention but didn't want to accidentally startle you and alert his presence to the whole mansion and he didn't even know if you were alone in the room as well. Looking around for something he saw some pebbles on the ground. Picking one up he threw it at your balcony door.

From inside, you and Charlie stopped talking and both turned your heads toward the balcony as you heard a small sound of something outside.

"What was that?" You asked

"I don't know." He responded

The two of you stayed quiet as you waited for anything else to happen. After a few moments, the sound of a small ping on the glass of your balcony door could be heard. Charlie stood up from the bed and two of you looked at each other for a second. Slowly, you both approach the balcony doors and as you did another ding could be heard. Looking down onto the balcony you saw a few small rocks scattered.

"Someone is throwing rocks at your window," Charlie said

"Well, as long as it's not Hoyt's son Halvor outside I think it'll be okay." You commented

"I now hope it's Halvor." Charlie replies "I want a Romeo and Juliet scenario but you outright insult him instead."

You rolled your eyes at Charlie as you carefully opened the doors to the balcony and stepped onto it to look down at the ground below. Fortunately, it was not Halvor and instead was your beloved Five. Turning to look back at Charlie you stated,

"It's Five, Charlie."

"Aw man," Charlie says disappointed "It's just regular Romeo and Juliet for me I guess..."

"You're a dork." You replied

"Hey!" He exclaimed

You ignored him though and turned to look back at Five who looked up at you with a smile on his face.

"What are you doing here?" You asked in a hushed tone

"I have a plan to get us out of here." He replies mimicking your tone as he holds up a briefcase

You take a look around outside to check that no one is around before waving your boyfriend up to you and whispering,

"Come up here."

Five nods his head and spatial jumps up to the balcony and steps into your room. You close the door to the balcony behind him and close the drapes so no one can see into your room from the outside anymore. Looking at Charlie you command,

"Lock the door."

Charlie gives a quick nod and heads over to the door as you turn your attention back to Five.

"You got a briefcase to bring us back to 2019?" You question

"Well, it's a bit more complicated than that..." Five replies "Like I said I went and made a plan with the devil and I got this briefcase but it's programmed to bring me to a certain time and place and then back to Dallas."

"Why is it programmed like that?" Charlie questions as he approaches the two of you

"I have to go and kill the board of directors for the commission and she said she'll give me a briefcase to take us back to 2019 with everything as it should be and no apocalypses in any timeline." Five explains

"I have no clue what any of that means," Charlie replies

"It's alright, Charlie." You comfort before turning back to Five "Are you sure you can trust her on this?"

"I'm not sure but it's the only option we have to get out of here."

"Alright. I'm coming with you then."

"What do you mean?" Five questions

"I don't trust this woman one bit so there's no way I'm letting you do this alone." You explain before turning to Charlie "Charlie, I never knew when this would happen but it's time."

"Oh shit," Charlie exclaims

"Time for what?" Five questions

"THE plan." You say as you head over to your closet

Crouching down you push some boxes to the side before using one of your knives to unscrew the vent in the back. Reaching in you pull out a box before resetting everything to look normal. Grabbing the box you stand up and bring it over to your vanity table. Five and Charlie both make their way over to you and you start to explain the plan.

"Charlie and I came up with this plan a while ago in case I ever needed to sneak out unexpectedly. I knew you would come back so we set this all up in advance if I ever needed to leave to do something like this with you." You detail as you start to take stuff out of the box "I have a note that I'm going to put on the door that says I went to bed early and not to disturb me. The door will stay locked so no one can come in and if someone tries Charlie has time to prepare a story."

As you unpack some more items you quiz Charlie a bit about the plan. It had been about a year and a half since you came up with this thing so you wanted to make sure he still knew what to do.

"Typically the latest I get out of bed is 11 am so if I'm not back by then what should you do?"

"Take the note out of the box that says you left early to on a walk down the road and take my car saying I'm heading to find you. Then I'll drive off to town for the day and wait near a central location for you to come back." Charlie replies

"Correct." you state before adding "If anything else happens you have all the contingency plan materials in the box."

You take the note about going to bed early along with a piece of tape and unlock your door, hanging it up on the outside. Closing the door again you lock it and turn back to the boys. Five looks on with pride at you. You were so smart and always so prepared, but more so you were so sure of yourself that he would return for you that you had put plans in place to be able to leave on a moment's notice. You amazed him more each and every day and reminded him why he had done all the things he did and all the things he was doing now. Finished up with the box you turn to Charlie and state,

"Charlie I believe in you."

Charlie nods his head before wrapping you in a hug and replying,

"Come back soon."

"I will."

Stepping out of the hug, you turn to Five and extend your hand out towards him.

"Ready to follow me?" Five questions

"Always," you answer

With that Five takes your hand and in a flash of blue energy, the two of you travel away out of your room and through time to where you needed to go. When the energy flashed again you were in a completely different place. Steadying yourself you took a few deep breaths. Compared to the last time you time traveled the molecular disturbance didn't hurt as much. Maybe you were getting better at redistributing them. Even though you felt alright Five looked at you with concern. He held your hand a bit tighter and you could see the worried look in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He questioned

"I'm alright darling. I'm getting better at managing molecular disturbances...I think." you explain

"That response does not fully fill me with confidence."

"That's too bad, we have a job to do." you remind

Five rolled his eyes at you. He didn't understand how could you just wave off the disturbance you felt like it was nothing, but you made a good point. You had a job to do and the quicker it was over with the better. Five pulled the note out of his pocket that had the place of where the board meeting was happening listed. Looking up at the building in front of the two of you, he confirmed that it was the place. Putting the note back in his pocket he took the briefcase and stashed it behind a large shrub on the backside of the building. With all of that done the two of you made your way to the front of the building. You looked around and saw many people in traditional clothing and the sound of polka music echoed from the building. Five grabbed the door and held it open for you to walk in with him following after. The two of you looked around the place checking to see if anyone out of the ordinary, commission-looking types, were around. You didn't see anything odd, except for the overwhelming amount of polka dancers inside the lodge. You follow Five as he walks over to a woman and says,

"Excuse me."

The woman turns to look at him and replies,

"Uff da. You snuck up on me there. If you're looking for the cookies, we don't put 'em out till 3:00."

"Ooh cookies," you exclaim

No. Wait. You had to focus on the task at hand. No cookies.

"We can hardly wait." Five comments "Uh, do you happen to know where the Midwest Soybean Society is meeting?

"Sure do. Muskellunge Banquet Room. You looking for your parents? They in for the convention?" The woman responds politely

Instead of answering her questions, Five looks off in the distance. You couldn't quite tell what he was looking at but the woman looked at the two of you for a response.

"Yes, our parents are prominent members of the society." you confidently lied

Five looked back towards the woman and held out a dollar before asking curiously,

"Hey, could I get some change?"

"Oh, sure, I'll just look in my purse." She says as she opens a fanny pack "Only a nickel and a couple of dimes. Oh! You... are...in... luck, mister."

The woman hands a few quarters to Five and he takes them in his hand. He looks off to the side as if he was deep in thought and says,

"You know some say the best luck is to die at the right time."

Five then walks off towards where the banquet room was as you and the woman both look on confused. The woman looks back to you and you shoot an apologetic look.

"Um...my boyfriend recently started taking a philosophy course at school. I'm trying to work with him on when it's appropriate to bring up philosophical statements."

The woman silently looks back at you confused and you walk away from her and follow your boyfriend. You can tell there's a shift in his body language as he walks towards the vending machine. He stood up straighter and his movements were stiff. He looked around before starting to place to coins he received in the vending machine. As he did so you approached him and stood by his side. You could see an angry and frustrated look on his face. You watched as he typed in the letter and number combo necessary to get a fudge Nutter Bar.

He loved those immensely. You were the one who introduced those to him when you got a bunch trick-or-treating on Halloween years ago. You knew he and his siblings wouldn't be able to go so you stole a bunch of candy to give to them and jumped over to their house later at night to distribute the sweets. You had given Five a Fudge Nutter bar to try first from the bag of candy and he became obsessed. He took the rest of them before his siblings even got a chance to try but you thought it was cute.

Coming out of your thoughts you notice your boyfriend getting frustrated at the machine. His eyebrows start to furrow and he tenses up more as he aggressively presses the buttons. He then tries to reach his hand through the vending machine door to try and get the bar he paid for out.

"Five what if I-" You start to say

You wanted to suggest using your powers but before you could fully get your words out your Five started to vigorously shake the machine.

"Come on!" He angrily exclaimed

"Uh- Five?" You try again

It is to no avail though as he steps back and starts to bang into the machine with his shoulder in his attempt to free his bar before shaking the machine again but harder. You knew your boyfriend was under an immense amount of stress given back-to-back apocalypses in about a two-week time frame and this stubborn Fudge Nutter was probably his breaking point. Now you knew you could step in and probably ease his tension with some love and compassion but you also had a weird curiosity to see what would happen. As he continued to shake the vending machine Five yelled,

"Stupid mother Fudge Nutter! Fuckin' Fudge Nutter!"

And taking a step back he kicked in the glass on the machine. Realizing what he did Five stopped and scratched the back of his neck. Taking a deep breath he turned towards the doorway which led to the banquet hall the board of directors was meeting in. Walking that way he dragged a finger across the side of a cake resting on a nearby table picking up some icing. You followed behind pulling out a knife and holding it in your hand preparing to fight. Five licked the icing off his finger before looking around and seeing an ax on the wall he grabs it and readjusts it in his hands. You could tell from the everything that he was displaying a high amount of frustration and although given the context it was an understandable expression of his feelings you knew it could lead to are more arduous killing process. You noticed as he started to prep himself to walk in the doorway that lead towards the hall but before he could step through you teleported yourself in front of him. Before he could react you grabbed his face tightly with your free hand pulled him into a forceful kiss. Pulling back and letting go of his face you watched as he blinked a few times in surprise.

"Oh- wow." He commented, "I was not against that in the slightest but um is there a reason?"

You twiddle with your knife as you reply,

"I thought that would be the best way to steady you. From my own experience kills are quicker and more effective if you have a steady balance between your erraticism and logic."

Although he kept a calm exterior, Five was screaming on the inside. His heart racing as if he had just run a marathon. Everything in his logic screamed that this was not the time to be feeling like this. The board that needed to be killed was just around the corner and the time was counting down to another apocalypse. And yet, every other part of said this was the time and screamed for more. Five collected himself and removed one of his hands from the ax to readjust his tie and jacket. Although alarm bells were still going off in his head a smirk appeared on his face as he suggested,

"Well, then I'll have to come to you for steadiness more often then."

Catching his drift, you take a step closer to him and use your free hand to grab him by his tie and pull him closer to you. A playful smirk resembling his own appears on your face as you whisper to him,

"Well how about this, the sooner we get this done and return to 2019 the sooner I'll provide you with some more...steadiness."

Everything screamed louder as a fire built within him. He was going to kill this board as if his life depended on it.

"I like that plan."

You let go of his tie and take a step out of the way of him. He raises his ax back up and prepares himself as you state,

"After you then mon chéri."

A wide smile appears on Five's face and there's a determination in his eyes as he walks through the doors and marches down towards the room that held the board of directors. You turned yourself invisible and followed after him. As Five steps through the door to the room, he can see AJ turn to look at him. There was something about seeing the people whom he both had worked with as a murderous pawn but also was left alone in the apocalypse for decades by that sent him into a rage.

"You!" AJ exclaims "Call security!"

A woman pushes her chair away from the table and towards a phone on a nearby desk. Five quickly takes a swing at her cutting her arm off. While still invisible you decided to turn her brain matter into liquid better her die quickly than slowly bleed out with a chance of survival. From the opposite side of the table, you see a man start to stand up to head towards Five but before he does so you throw your knives at him and land one through his eye socket into his brain and the other in his heart. Transporting yourself over to him you twist both knives in a circular motion ensuring lasting damage and no chance of survival. Revealing yourself you pull both knives out causing blood to splatter on your face and clothing. The board looks at you in shock and you turn to Five with a sadistic smile on your face and ask,

"What? You thought you could have all the fun without me?"

"Never, darling." Five replies, a twisted smile appearing on his own face

The two of you turn to look at the living members of the board for a moment but within seconds start jumping around the room taking board members out. Blood and carnage covered yourselves and the room as corpses were littered around the place. With the rest of the members taken out, you went to stand behind AJ while Five stood on the table in front of him. As you looked up at Five, ax in hand, and covered in blood, with a chaotic fire in his eyes you could not help how attracted you were to him at this moment. As Five towered over him, AJ questioned,

"She sent you, didn't she?"

"Does it really matter now?" Five replied

"Whatever she offered you, I will double it, triple it," AJ begged

"I'm not doing this for money." Five exclaimed as he lifted the ax to swing at AJ

Before the ax could connect with the fish tank of a head AJ had the lady from earlier tackled Five to the ground.

"Get off me!" Five yelled

"You're gonna pay for that vending machine, little mister." The lady said as she grappled with him

With the sudden action, you were pulled out of your thoughts and say AJ start to run away but also Five on the ground. As much as you wanted to help your boyfriend you knew getting AJ was better and ran after him. Having him in your sights you used your powers to make his legs denser, slowing him down followed by throwing knives into his thigh and shoulder.

Back on the board room Five continued to grapple with the lady.

"I don't wanna hurt you, all right?" Five tried to explain

The lady punches him in the face before angrily replying,

"Hurt me? Oh, I ain't afraid of you, you little pus ball."

Five was tired of dealing with the woman though and punched her back knocking her out cold. Getting up he takes a look around the room and sees that neither you nor AJ was in the room.

"Shit." He says aloud

Grabbing a rugby-looking paddle off the wall he flashed out of the room and flashes in front of AJ. As he does, he notices how slowly AJ is moving, as if his legs were made of concrete. Looking up he sees you leaning against a nearby wall nonchalantly eating a piece of cake. Looking over to him you say,

"Oh, hey babe. I saved him for ya."

You had never called him babe before and it was not helping him deal with the intense feeling of screaming going on within him and yet it also did. With that one word, he could feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He felt...powerful. Cocking his head to the side he looked at AJ maniacally as he held the paddle in his hand.

"Surely we can come to some form of agreement that benefits both parties. Quid pro quo? What do you say?" AJ suggested

"Why not? Here's your quid." Five says hitting him in the side

"Here's your pro." Five adds catching him with the paddle in the knee

"No! No! Please don't!" 

"Here's your quo." Five stated firmly

Swinging hard he smashes the glass head that contained AJ in it leaving water and glass everywhere. Five takes a few deep breaths as he stares at the flopping fish on the floor. As he does so you see two girls in polka dresses walk out and see the scene before turning back into the dance hall. Placing your slice of cake down you summon all your knives back before heading over to Five and placing a hand on his arm grabbing his attention.

"We need to get out of here."

Five looks around at the scene and grabs a nearby plastic bag before picking AJ up off the ground and placing him in it. Five looks back to you and states,

"We need water."

You look at the air within the bag Five was holding and in a matter of seconds, you converted a portion of it into water. Five knew that was something you could do and it was something you had been able to do for a long time nevertheless, it still amazed him. Holding the bag with AJ in one hand he took yours in the other and held it tightly. Five spatial jumped the two of you out of the building and towards the shrub he had stashed the pre-programmed briefcase in. Handing AJ to you, he grabbed the briefcase and set it up so that you could get back to 1963 Dallas. Taking your hand once more you could feel the briefcase start to disturb the energy around you and with one more flash the two of you were back in the alleyway in Dallas covered in blood. The two of you looked around and everything seemed to be the right time and place. As you stood there in the alleyway the briefcase started to make noise and you could feel its molecules moving faster signifying that it was heating up. Grabbing it out of Five's hand you threw it on the other side of the alley and watch as seconds later it blew up. 

"What the fuck." You exclaimed

"Programmed to self-destruct after its purpose was done...clever." Five commented

You turn towards your boyfriend who seemed to be utterly unphased by the whole thing and say,

"I hate your former employer. I hope I never have to interact with them."

"Well, I don't want you to and because of that, I need you to go inside. She could be here any minute and I don't know what she could pull nor do I want you around her." Five explains "Also, it would make me feel better if you were inside. Okay?"

You nod your head at him and quickly make your way inside the back door to the building but don't head up the stairs to Elliott's apartment. Instead, you stay close to the door to be able to get to Five quickly incase he needed you.  Five crossed his arms as he turned away from the door and soon enough he heard the recognizable sound of heels clicking towards him.

"Well?" The voice asked

Five held to bag for her to take from him without looking back at her.

"AJ!" The handler exclaimed taking the bag

Five turned around and looked at her with an emotionless expression. 

"You know, you're really starting to fill out those tight little shorts of yours." The handler commented, "I'm sure your girlfriend is happy."

Five was always so disgusted when she talked about you. He could deal with comments made towards him, they meant nothing to him, but comments about you filled him with repulsion and rage. He kept quiet as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Why so quiet? Thought you'd be buzzing after this morning's slaughter." She questions

Five looked off for a second. This killing, he didn't do it just because, he did it because he wanted to protect his family, you, and the world you all existed in.

"All this killing..." Five pauses "I'm done with it."

"What?" The handler questions "Am I supposed to take that seriously?"

"What I did today, I did for the people I love. I did it to save the world." Five elaborates emotionally

"Please. Spare me your little assassin with the heart of gold routine, will you?" The handler replies before picking up a briefcase from the ground "Here. Per our agreement, this will get you and your siblings back to 2019."

Five takes the briefcase from her and as he does she adds,

"You have 90 minutes."

Panic rushes through Five and as the handler starts to walk away he yells,

"You said nothing about a time limit."

"Actually, you have 89 minutes and 30 seconds. Better hurry."

"This is impossible, okay? My siblings are scattered across the city." Five exclaims as he approaches her

"Nothing's impossible. You proved that this morning when you killed the board."

"I need more time."

"Any more time, and people will start asking questions. The sooner you get home and out of this time period, the better off we'll both be, so, ticktock, ticktock." The handler finishes

Angrily, Five spatial jumps away from the handler and into the back staircase where you were. You look at him and see something is wrong but before you can say anything he grabs your wrist and spatial jumps the two of you up to the apartment. As the two of you arrive you see from the balcony three words written on the floor in blood. Öga För Öga. Eye for an eye? Before you can process that whole mess you hear Diego threaten from the kitchen,

"You killed one of ours, Olga, now we're coming after you. You will be dead by nightfall."

Five and you head towards the kitchen and see Diego on the phone with Luther nearby. As Five takes off his jacket and vest he explains,

"Hey. It's Öga För Öga, idiots. Swedish for an eye for an eye. It means the Swedes killed Elliott."

"Wrong number. Have a lovely day." Diego says in a chipper tone before hanging up the phone

Your eyes go wide as the situation before you triggers a strong feeling of deja vu within you, almost instantaneously followed by a strong visceral memory of your friends comes to mind. Quietly you whispered to yourself,

"Du sang pour du sang."

Five turns to look at you and asks,

"Why did you say blood for blood in french?"

"I'd love to explain but we do NOT have the time for it right now," you state

"Uh, you guys have some blood on you. A lot of blood, actually. What did you do?" Luther questions

Instead of looking to Five for answers, Diego comes over to you and starts looking you over for injuries.

"Are you okay? This is a lot of blood." He asks concerned

"I've said this many times before in my life but it's not my blood and that's all that matters." You respond to him

He looks at you confused as you walk away towards Five in the bathroom. Using your powers you specifically remove the molecules of blood on both of your clothes and skin before placing them all in the sink and washing them down. As both of you fix yourself up in the bathroom Five starts to explain, 

"So I found a way home."

"What? How?" Luther questions

"All the details are irrelevant, but...I made a deal to get back to our timeline."

"What about doomsday?" Diego asks

"Won't happen."

"And the 2019 apocalypse?" Luther inquires

Five was getting frustrated with his siblings. Their questions pestered him, especially because he killed a bunch of people for the opportunity to get everyone home safely and their time was running out fast.

"Everything will be back to normal. All right? Now, no more questions. We gotta go. We have to find the others, alright?"

Five walks out of the bathroom with you following behind him. 

"Yeah," Luther says

"Luther, you get Allison. Diego, Klaus. (Y/N) and I will get Vanya. Now, we meet back in the arrival alley in 77 minutes." Five details before heading over to a table and saying "Here. I've synchronized these watches."

Picking the watches up from the table he pockets one before handing the other two to each of his brothers.

"Okay, let's do this." Luther states

With Luther's confirmation, Five turns away from them and grabs your hand about to flash the two of you away but is halted when Diego questions,

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. You show up with my sister completely drenched in blood and expect us to believe everything's gonna go back to normal if we go home now?"

You nodded your head a little bit at Diego's statement. If the handler had already tricked Five with a briefcase that has a 20-minute timer how could you know that this wasn't a trick again.

"Elliott just got killed because of us." Five exclaims gesturing to the body hidden underneath a sheet

You nodded your head once more because that was also a good point but you still did agree with what Diego had said.

"What about Dad? What about JFK?" Diego questions

Nevermind.

"Diego, we have a chance to go home and make things right. We are taking it." Five demands

This was wasting time, precious time that could be used to get back to their lives but also save the world.

"I have to say goodbye to Lila." Diego states

"Lila doesn't give a shit about you, Diego! She never did. She's one of them. She's a member of the Commission!" Five yells

"No way. Not possible."

Now you were starting to get frustrated with Diego. How could Diego be so stupid, so blinded by her? If she worked for the commission then she did not matter. She was bad from the start and deserved no sympathy for using your brother in the way she did. 

"She was just using you to get to me. You're the Oswald of this story, my friend. The goddamned patsy." Five frustratedly explains

"You don't know what you're talk-"  Diego to starts to retort

Five spatial jumps over to right in front of Diego and firmly states to him,

"If you don't do this, I'll kill you myself. Got it?"

"No. I don't take orders from you." Diego states back

That was it. You were done with the back and forth of bullshit as it was taking away time from the opportunity to get home. Pulling one of your knives out you quickly approached Diego and held it at him accusingly.

"Diego Hargreeves, this might be our only chance to get out of this god damn timeline and back home. And as your little sister if you care for my well-being as much as you say you do then you will not seek out this walking bag of lies and will go and get Klaus so we can all go home." You demand before exclaiming angrily "If you don't...I swear on our mother that I will take every one of your knives and will use them to dissect you limb by limb and organ by organ before using my powers to blow EACH ONE UP INDIVIDUALLY!"

The three boys looked on at you in horror. 

"Holy shit..." Luther quietly commented

"Do I make myself clear?" You ask

Diego quickly nodded his head and you pulled the knife away from them and back in its holding place on you. Turning around you walk away from him and extend your hand out to Five. Five takes it and the two of you flash away to outside the building. Looking around you and Five find a car that had the keys just placed on the driver's seat. Sharing a knowing look the two of you use your powers to get into the car before putting the keys in and speeding off to get Vanya. As you travel on the dirt roads leading to the farm Vanya was living on you started to head around a curve. As you did so you and Five looked over and saw Vanya in the car passing by. Vanya stopped her car as Five stopped yours. You both quickly rush out of the car and over towards Vanya who had gotten out of hers.

"What are you doing here?" Vanya questioned confused

"Looking for you. We're going back to 2019." Five states quickly

"What are you talking about?" Vanya asks 

Five pulls the watch out of his pocket and looks at the seconds counting down before replying,

"Look, I don't really have time to explain right now, but I found a way home. All right? We have 30 minutes to leave."

Five starts to walk away thinking Vanya would follow but instead she exclaims,

"What about my friends? I can't just leave them here."

"Vanya, you don't have a choice in this, all right? Doomsday will happen if you don't come with me." Five explains turning around to face her again

"Okay, then I'm bringing them with me." Vanya states

"They belong in this timeline." Five replies

"Says who? Sissy deserves a life where she doesn't have to pretend to be someone she's not. And Harlan There's a name for what he has. We can get him the help he needs." Vanya yells angrily

"Vanya." You called softly, trying to ease the tension

For a second, your calmness seems to work as Vanya adds,

"Look, a mom and her eight-year-old son are not gonna screw up the timeline, Five. They're insignificant."

Five looks on at Vanya and you can see behind the frustration and panic there was sadness in his eyes. He doesn't want to argue with his sibling and he never would purposely try to hurt his sibling in the way Vanya might be feeling, but they were running out of time to get home and if they didn't the whole world could end. Even in his panic, Five attempted to speak more calmly,

"No one is insignificant. I'm sorry, all right? But we can't take that risk. They have to stay. Come on."

"Why do you get to decide? You're the reason we're stuck here in the first place." Vanya rebukes, her anger returning

"If I did nothing, we would all be dead right now, thanks to you!" Five yells back

"They're coming with me." Vanya demands

Five could not deal with this stubbornness anymore. It was the same stubbornness that caused the last apocalypse because Vanya refused to see other people's perspectives and played the victim card time and time again. He loved his sister, that much was true, but he was not going to deal with another apocalypse just because Vanya wanted to bring some people she had known for a month along. Taking a step forward towards her Five stands his ground and firmly commands,

"Vanya, do not test me right now."

Vanya takes a step towards him in the same manner and in a low voice replies back,

"That's funny. 'Cause I was just about to say the same thing."

You can see the anger build between them but you can feel their power build as well. The disturbance they created crashed over you like a powerful wave during a storm. You tried to do what you always did to help ease the disturbance by breathing it in and then pushing it out. But this was different. Some time travel or explosions didn't do as much harm as they used to but Vanya's powers were like Kryptonite. And with the addition of Five revving up his powers, it was a bit more than you had been exposed to in a while. For a second you were able to manage pretty well but as they grew stronger it got harder to breathe. It was as if your throat was closing up on you and without being able to breathe the feeling of the disturbance got worse. You dropped to your knees as you gasped for air and when Five heard you struggling he immediately stopped his battle with Vanya to rush over to you. Helping you to stand, you took in deep breaths of air, and as Vanya powered down you started to feel better.

"I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Five apologized as he pulled you into a hug

"I'm fine," you reply between breaths and you hold him back

From behind the two of you, you can hear Vanya say,

"Fine."

"Fine, what?" Five asks

Five pulls out of the hug to look at Vanya but keeps one of his arms tightly around you worried that if he lets go you'll collapse again.

"I'll be there, but I need to say goodbye first." Vanya answers

"Oh, Vanya, we don't have the time." Five explains

"Well, it's either that, or I'm not coming." Vanya states

Five looks towards you. There was no use fighting with Vanya on this and honestly, if he was in her place he'd want to say goodbye too. He never got the chance to say goodbye when he left. Looking back towards Vanya he nods his head and commands,

"The alley. 27 minutes. Don't be late."

With that Vanya goes and gets in her car while you and Five get in yours. Not letting go of you, Five walks you. to the car and helps you in it even as you protested saying you were feeling better. Turning the car back on Five whips it around and heads back towards the alley. When the two of you arrive you park the car and immediately jump out rushing towards the alley. As you arrive Five quickly opens up a dumpster and pulls out the briefcase he stashed there. Running from out of the apartment you see Luther approach you two and questions upset,

"Hey. Where is everyone?"

"You're the first." Five replies to him

"What?" Luther exclaims

"Yeah." You reply

As the three of you stare down the alleyway you can see Klaus approaching, which was surprising in and of itself but what was more surprising to you was that Ben was standing within him. As Klaus' body approached it exclaims,

"Hey! Hey! We made it!"

"What do you mean,��we?" Five asks

The three of you then watch as Klaus contorts his body in odd ways and while Five and Luther were generally confined you were trying to process all that you were seeing. What looked like odd contortions to the other two was really Klaus trying to push Ben out of his body. Was Klaus possessed? You then watched as Klaus projectile vomited an extreme amount on the ground and along with it was Ben, who was now also covered in vomit. How did that work being a ghost? You didn't know and it wasn't important enough to ask at this moment. Klaus collapses to the ground and you look directly at Ben to say,

"I don't know what you did to cause that to happen, but it was gross as hell."

Luther, unknowing of Ben being there looks at Klaus. How is it that out of all his siblings Klaus was the one to arrive on time. An anger wells in him as he shouts,

"I can't believe it. I mean, you're here."

"We've got eight minutes left." Five states panicked as he looks at the watch

"I just had the strangest dream," Klaus mumbles from the ground 

"Where are the others!" Five exclaims as he continues to look down the alley

You continue to wait there and minute after minute the time ticks down until there were only sixty seconds left.

"We've got a minute left!" Luther yells angrily as he slams his hand down on the dumpster denting it

"What's going on, guys? Are we going somewhere?" Klaus asks from the ground

You watch as your boyfriend paces back and forth angrily ranting,

"It was a simple task. It was a simple task! All we had to do was be here. Didn't have to fight a giant sea monster, no. An army of mutants? Nein."

"I can't believe this." Luther comments

"It was handed to us on a silver platter." Five continues

This was bad. Allison, Diego, and Vanya had yet to show up and you couldn't leave with only five of you here. You shook your head as disappointment and anger flooded over you. This family would be the death of you.

"Could you just moan a little softer? My head is killing me." Klaus complains as he starts to sit up

"Listen to me, you useless puke bag, we just blew our chance to save the world!" Five yells

As he finishes saying that you can hear a sound coming from the briefcase but can also feel it as well. Five's head whips over to it and sees that the briefcase was about to go. 

"God damn it." Five states

"Shit," Luther adds

Five had no choice but to get rid of the briefcase. Picking it up off the ground he throws it into the air and far from any of you. You all watch as it disappears in a flash of blue and your chance of getting home had been lost to time. Five shakes his head and turns away from the group heading back towards Elliott's apartment.

"We were that close. That close." He states

You stared up at the spot where the briefcase had flashed and as the residual feeling of the disturbance, it caused disappeared faded you wondered if your chances of ever getting home had too.

 ________________________________

Taglist: @xplrreylo @joebob15274 @insatiable-ivy @fruitsaladtree @angelpeachamber @academy-umbrella @lizziel1410 @ir3neeee @faith-quake @aliens-with-colas @sunsetcurve-1995 @lady-celeste25 @im-dead-and-hurting @nerdypinupcrystal @cherry-ki-d @anapocalypseinmymind @vicassa @2cuteforyourlies @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @shadowycreationcupcake @emily-hargreeves @metor-showers1994 @fivehargreevesforthewin @rinko-san @supernovavision @cicilisthebest @flickbix @hi-v-juice @magykal-777 @zosiaduda @thethirdwheelfriend @mysticracoon @isnt-it-loverly @officiallydarkgeek @lady1505 @always-the-very-worst @tinypandagirl @libidinexx @lemongrabbuns @itwasallred @deadandoverit @shlokage @keksi249 @theoriginalkat @we-stan-fiction @bi-idiot-fanfics @annnagennnie @izzyjojo4 @megasimpleplan4ever @flowertoty @grabthemoneyandletsgo @itsametaphorbriansblog @vanillacaramelhoney @satvaldiva @disaster-magician @margotsfandoms @emily-b-m @bluechildrenlickmytoes @soft-slytherin-sweetie @oceanspray5 @im-here-for-fanfics @thebloodrobin @freestarlight @starcurrent @lilacs-lavender @moatsnow @give-the-boy-a-hug @narikyuwu @whenyouregrungeaff

[frostedfaves]

Repercussions (11)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Your plan moves along perfectly, and your girlfriends give you something to remember them by while they’re gone.

Warnings: dark themes, more manipulation from reader, mental health and self harm mentions, implied shower sex, smut 18+ ONLY (oral, face riding, fingering, sex toy penetration, squirting, choking)

A/N: I truly hope this was worth waiting all week for lmao. I planned on ending this with the introduction of a new character 👀 but by the time I got to where I stopped now, I was at 2.3k words (1200 of it that somewhat rough smut most of you voted for) and I decided to save it for 12! anyway, can’t wait to hear your thoughts! 

Previous part

-

The feeling of Natasha and Wanda’s arms around you was gone by morning, as it usually was, which means you knew exactly where to find them. You took the time to wash your face and brush your teeth before heading downstairs, greeting the two with the smallest smile you could manage as you approached the kitchen.

“Good morning, printsessa!” Wanda greeted you with normally bright eyes grown tired. “How do you feel today?”

“I’m alright,” you answered softly as she took your hand in hers, rubbing the back of it.

“What would you like for breakfast?”

“Surprise me,” you told Natasha as you pulled away from Wanda and approached a cabinet.

You opened one of the drawers and searched for a notebook and pen, grabbing both items and taking a seat at the breakfast bar. You could feel their gazes burning through the thin fabric that covered your back, but you continued to ignore them as your hand raced across the page with the pen.

“What are you writing, baby?” Natasha questioned gently as her arm wrapped around your waist.

“A letter.” You kept writing as you heard Wanda join you on the other side of the bar, eyes widening and hands shooting out defensively when she took the notebook away. “Wanda, give it back!”

She lowered it slowly as her eyes shifted back to you. “Who is Wesley?”

“He’s my cousin,” you replied just above a whisper, tears filling your eyes as they avoided hers. “It’s almost his birthday and with everything going on with my mental state, I really miss him. He was the only one growing up that knew how to keep me from spiraling, which is why it made perfect sense that he became a psychiatrist. I thought writing to him would help me feel better, but I don’t know. Just forget it.”

You pushed Natasha’s arm away as you jumped down from the stool, storming off to your separate bedroom to take a shower. The door opened a few minutes after you got in, and Wanda took the towel and soap from you, massaging the suds against your skin in soothing circles.

“I’m sorry, printsessa.” Her voice was just barely heard over the water.

“For what?”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel insecure. I think it’s great that you were writing to him. In fact, Tash and I were thinking that maybe we could invite him to stay with you while we go on our mission--”

“Really?!” You spun around so fast that she had to keep you from slipping. “You’re not messing with me, are you? I don’t think I could handle that.”

“No pretty baby, I’m not. Of course, there would be some rules we have to talk about, but--”

“Thank you, thank you!” You threw your arms around her torso, giggles escaping the two of you as you accidentally covered her in soap suds before pulling away with a frown. “Wait, you both have a mission?”

“I know, it sucks.” She sighed as she reached behind you to grab the showerhead, maneuvering it to rinse you off. “But the team needs both of us and it’s important, so we couldn’t turn it down. We’ll only be gone a week.”

“That’s so long,” you pouted as you watched her rinse herself off as well.

“It’ll be over before you know it! Now...” She pushed you against the shower wall as she turned off the water, kneeling and throwing your leg over her shoulder with a smirk. “Let me get your mind off it for a moment.”

-

“Okay, printsessa.”

You pulled yourself away from your show as Natasha and Wanda sat on the coffee table in front of you, their expressions stern but their eyes still soft. Wanda leaned forward to hand you a sheet of paper, which you glanced over as Natasha held up a copy of their own.

“I know that you’re excited about Wesley coming, but we still need to make sure you behave.”

You took note of some of the rules: no leaving the house, answer every phone call, as well as a few sexual restrictions. When you got to the bottom of the page, you looked up again with a grin. “I can follow these easily.”

“Well, I would hope so,” Natasha challenged with a smirk. “We’re putting a lot of trust in you this upcoming week, and it can very easily be ruined.”

“I’ll be good, I promise.” You dropped the paper beside you and leaned forward to grab their hands with your best puppy-eyed expression. “I just wish I could be good and have you closer than a fifteen hour flight away.”

“I know, baby,” Wanda pouted as she sat beside you on the couch, wrapping her arms around you. “If it was safe enough to do so, you’d be coming right along with us. I’m going to miss touching you.”

Wanda’s hand traveled underneath your oversized hoodie, and Natasha bit her lip when she noticed your thighs clench together in reaction to her wandering fingers. “You know, we could give our pretty baby something to remember us by while we’re gone. Remind her who fucks her properly.”

You nodded your head eagerly and Natasha jumped forward to grab the waistband of your leggings and yank the fabric past your ankles as Wanda’s hands massaged your breasts over your bra. She pulled away and had just pulled your hoodie over your head when Natasha stopped her. 

“Let’s take this to our special room.” She kissed your knuckles sweetly as she looked into your wide eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s not just for punishment.”

She grabbed your wrist and pulled you to your feet, forcing you to keep up with her as she jogged upstairs and down the hall, Wanda hot on your tail. The door was quickly unlocked and thrown open, and you were pushed onto the bed while your girlfriends stripped down as fast as their hands would move. Natasha turned you on your back and smacked your ass lightly before pulling your underwear away, while Wanda took care of your bra.

You turned back over when both of them pulled away, whining a bit when you noticed them kissing as they stood at the end of the bed, and you sat up and scooted a bit closer to the headboard. They separated with a few giggles and Wanda pushed you down onto the mattress harshly by your shoulder, climbing onto the bed with a leg on either side of your head as she lowered herself onto your mouth.

“Fuck, just like that,” she moaned as you began enthusiastically licking along her folds, pressing your hands into the pillows and lacing her fingers through yours. You squeezed them and jolted your hips upward when you felt Natasha’s tongue making its way toward your clit, her hands wrapped firmly around your thighs to keep you from moving again.

The room was filled with Wanda’s moans and suddenly your own when you pulled away for air, gasping as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. You groaned loudly as you climaxed, shuddering and squirming when Natasha kept going as you came down, and Wanda was quick to push your head back into place.

“She doesn’t stop until I cum, printsessa.”

You tried your hardest to keep a consistent pace against Wanda’s core, occasionally sucking on her clit and working faster when you felt yourself about to cum again. You were just about to fall over the edge when Wanda started moaning and panting loudly, gripping your hands tightly and slumping forward as she came all over your lips and cheeks. Your own break followed soon after, and she twitched against you as the vibration of your satisfied sounds traveled to her clit.

You took a moment to breathe as she got off the bed, giggling a bit as Natasha moved up to clean your face with her tongue before pushing it into your own mouth. She then moved aside and instructed you to flip over, taking your place against the pillows when Wanda grabbed your ankles and pulled you further down. Her hands grabbed your hips and guided you upward onto your knees after positioning herself behind you, and you let out a gasp that turned into a shaky moan as she pushed a ribbed dildo inside of you slowly. Natasha’s fingers pressed into the back of your neck and pulled you right into her slick folds, grinding her hips upward and humming happily as you got to work right away.

Wanda dug her nails into your skin as she began a steady pace, letting you get a feel for the length before suddenly pounding into you relentlessly. You gripped the sheets on either side of Natasha’s waist hard as you pulled away to wail loudly at the delicious feeling, crying out when a hand slapped your ass hard.

“Did I say you could stop, printsessa?” Natasha teased over your aggressive moans, using the free hand that wasn’t holding your neck to rub one of her nipples, enjoying the fact that you were already ruined and they weren’t even close to done.

You squealed out a “no” as best as you could, dipping your head back down and Natasha’s back arched at the vibrations of your loud moans against her clit. You licked and sucked to the best of your restrained ability while Wanda fucked into you hard, occasionally delivering smacks to your stinging cheeks. You’d cum twice by the time Natasha came once, and you fought back tears when she didn’t let you pull away, instead switching hands to give her other nipple attention.

“Fingers too,” she instructed you shakily, a harsh moan escaping her clenched jaw when you pushed two fingers into her at once. “Damn, baby. You really know how to treat a woman.”

You were shaking from a third orgasm as you curled your fingers against the spot that had her screaming out, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally pushed you away. You leaned against her tiredly as she sucked your fingers clean and Wanda slowly pulled out of you. Natasha got up again and you fell into the empty space she left, whimpering as Wanda turned you on your back again.

“Taste it.”

Wanda held your jaw as you lifted your head to lick the soaked dildo, which blocked the view of Natasha walking toward the bed wearing a different one. You felt the bed dip as she climbed on again, your back arching off the mattress and hands gripping the sheets again when she pushed into you.

“Come on, baby, you can take it.”

Wanda moved away as Natasha slammed her hips against yours, pulling away and slamming into you again as your mouth fell open with silent moans. You found your voice again when she pulled out halfway, dipping her hand between the two of you to rub your clit with her thumb, and you groaned when your hips jerked forward at the movement and effectively pushed the toy further into you.

“If you wanted me to fuck you that badly, you should’ve asked.”

She spread your legs further apart and leaned forward to thrust into you faster, placing her hands on either side of you and chuckling when you reached up to dig your fingers into her biceps to anchor yourself. One of her hands came around your neck and squeezed lightly, and your eyes rolled back as the combined sensations of penetration and interrupted air flow became too much.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty baby?” she asked you in a mocking tone, grinning when you responded with incoherent babbling. “Come on, baby. Give me everything you got.”

If you were able to breathe properly, you would’ve screamed when her free thumb met your clit again, and a pressure built between your legs unlike any other. Just when you thought you would explode from the inside out, she pulled the toy out of you and continued rubbing your clit as you squirted all over her legs and the sheets.

Her hand pulled away from your neck and you weakly grabbed it in both of yours, tears escaping the corners of your closed eyes as you shuddered violently against the mattress. She used her free hand to undo the strap and throw the toy off to the side, shushing you as she laid beside you.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” she comforted quietly while she pulled you into her bare chest, rubbing your back gently. “You’re okay.”

“Wanda,” you whispered against her breast and she shushed you again.

“She’s setting up the bath, okay? Come on, let’s go to her. Wan, we need you.”

Wanda came into the room and the two of them guided your shaking form to the tub in the shared bathroom with gentle hands and a bit of assistance from Wanda’s powers to keep you calm. Natasha got in first and you collapsed against her as Wanda helped you in, starting to doze off as she began to wash you.

“I’m going to miss this,” Natasha mumbled, rubbing her thumb across Wanda’s calf with the hand that wasn’t holding onto your waist.

“I know, but I really hope this visit with her cousin is going to help. I can’t handle walking into a room and seeing that gun to her head again or worse.”

Natasha was quick to move her hand under Wanda’s chin, forcing her to meet her gaze. “It won’t happen again. We locked up everything she could possibly hurt herself with.”

“Tash, if she’s desperate enough, she’ll find a way. She needs help, and I think Wesley is help.”

“Alright. But one wrong move, and I swear I’ll come right back here and kill him with my bare hands. Mission be damned.”

“Agreed.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @nat-km-mh @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @creepingwolfberry @emilyprentisswife @becka107 @seventeen0 @bebe404 @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @fayhar @sxphiaswitch @mjaudrey @messuhp @wannabe-fic-reader @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @trikruismybitch @cosmicbrownies7 @cherrieloco @muted-stoneheart @beforeoursecrets @want-to-watch-it-burn @just-a-normalpersons @haiiiloeee2 @natashadeservedmore @witchxaf @darkangelxoxo @sakurat123 

[expectingtofly]

What It Means to Love, 3k

established dean/cas, hurt/comfort, post 15x20, human!cas

day 2 of @thiscastielhasflown and i's follower celebration

prompt: hurt/comfort

“Dean, I am perfectly fine, I—” Cas paused, face scrunching up, then he sneezed before he could finish his sentence.

Dean took a step backwards. “Dude, gross! Seriously? Sneeze into your elbow. That’s like preschool 101.”

“Oh, then it’s so great that I went to preschool,” Cas said, managing to sound sarcastic even with his nose stuffed up. Dean winced as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his trenchcoat. “It’s not like I haven’t been a human for only three months.”

Right. “Yeah, well, guess this is the perfect introduction." How the hell did Cas manage to still look so adorable slumped against the kitchen counter, clothes wrinkled and nose red? “Welcome to humanity, you have a cold. Here, stop that.” He couldn't watch Cas wipe his nose on his sleeve again. They didn’t have tissues in the kitchen, but he grabbed a napkin and handed it to him. Dutifully, Cas took it and blew his nose. “What you need is to get in some comfier clothes, lay down, and get some sleep.”

Violating the few feet he'd put between them to stay clear of the germs, he stepped closer to loosen Cas' tie. Cas let him, saying, "I can still help research—"

"No, no." Cas leveled him with a glare, but it had lost its bite now that Dean knew he couldn't strike him dead with his angel grace. Okay, it was still pretty menacing. "I'm trying to save your ass. Sam will kill you if you sneeze on his laptop or precious books. Come on, take off the coat, you gotta be burning up."

He was helping Cas slip it off when Sam walked into the kitchen. “Ew, gross," he complained, covering his eyes with his hand, and Dean realized he was essentially undressing Cas in front of the kitchen island. "Get a room."

"Grow up," Dean said, draping Cas' coat and tie over his arm. Okay, so maybe they’d given Sam a reason to be on-guard now, but, "It's not what it looks like."

Sam lowered his hand, then frowned at Cas. "Woah. What happened to you?"

"I'm sick," Cas answered, as if that wasn't obvious enough by his glassy eyes and disheveled appearance.

"Well, uh, wash your hands," Sam said, stepping back as Cas started for the door, Dean following. "Don't wanna spread any germs. And try to stay out of the library."

"Told you," Dean whispered to Cas as they went down the hallway. In their room, he gestured for Cas to sit on the bed as he rummaged through their dresser. “T-shirt and sweatpants,” he said, handing them over.

Cas unbuttoned his white button-down which was identical to the dress shirts he always wore as an angel. Apparently old habits died hard—in this case, an affinity for business casual. Actually, maybe Cas getting sick and out of his old clothes was a good thing. Dean didn't know the last time the trenchcoat had been washed.

Collecting Cas' shirt and pants, he said, “I’ll get rid of these disease-ridden clothes.” He thought he caught Cas rolling his eyes as he pulled Dean’s sweatshirt over his head. "You watch TV or something, I’ll go see if we have cold medicine.”

After starting a load of laundry and raiding the medicine cabinets in the bathroom and cabinets in the kitchen, he returned to the room to find Cas sitting cross-legged under the covers of the bed, remote in his hands.

“Here, you go,” Dean said, handing over a warm mug. Ancient Aliens played on the TV; one of Cas' favorite pastimes was refuting every crazy claim and theory the show presented with his own recollections of the ancient times. “Sam said this tea will help. He ran out to get some medicine.”

Eagerly, Cas took the mug from him and took a large gulp, then coughed. "Ow. It's hot."

"Drink it slowly, idiot."

Cas took a more hesitant sip, then squinted up at him. "This tea is incredibly flavorless."

Dean snorted. "’Cause your nose’s clogged up. And you probably burned your tongue. Another joy of being human."

Groaning, Cas dropped his head back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. "Why is being human so difficult?"

Dean inwardly winced at that. Or thought he did so inwardly, but his expression must've revealed something because Cas glanced over at him, then straightened up, nearly spilling his tea. "Dean, I didn't mean anything by that."

Clearing his throat, Dean shrugged and sat down on the other side of the bed. "No, it's fine. You're right, being human sucks."

"And I wouldn't trade it for the world," Cas said.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Cas seemed about to say more, but then he sneezed. Into his elbow this time. Progress.

Ancient Aliens finished, and they got halfway through an episode of UFO Hunters before Cas started to nod off. Dean took the mug from him, and his eyes fluttered open, head jerking up. "I'm fine," he said.

"I know you're tired because you missed them saying aliens created the lost city of Atlantis."

Cas sniffled. "That's ridiculous. Everyone knows Atlantis was formed by—" He was interrupted by a yawn, and Dean made a mental note to return to that subject later.

“Come on, take a nap.”

“I am not a small child, Dean,” Cas protested, but he settled down anyway. Dean couldn’t resist adjusting the covers, essentially tucking him in. He wasn’t trying to baby him, but it was second nature seeing how miserable the guy looked. Turning off the lights, he went to the door. "You good? Need anything else?"

"No." Cas squinted one eye open to look at Dean over the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, and, fuck, if he wasn't still the most beautiful man Dean had ever seen, even sick as a dog. "Thank you."

A tiny alarm went off in Dean's brain about germs, but he returned to the bed to kiss Cas on the forehead anyway. True love, and all that. God, he was getting sappy in his old age.

Cas looked marginally better when he woke up from his nap. If marginally better meant pillow hair and pillow lines on his cheek. Well-rested, at least. He swallowed down the cold medicine Sam had brought home, complaining that he could taste enough to know the flavor was not, quote, "similar to anything occurring organically in nature."

"Whaddya wanna eat?" Dean asked him as he drained his glass of water. "And don't say PB and J," he added before Cas could speak.

Cas set his glass down on the nightstand and slid further down under the covers. "Anything that won't make my throat hurt more."

"My, uh, mom used to make me soup when I was sick."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Whatcha making?" Sam asked, coming into the kitchen. He lifted the lid of the pot on the stove and Dean snapped him with the towel.

"That's for Cas, back off."

"Wow," Sam said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "Look at you."

"Look at me what?" Setting aside the pot lid, he scraped the celery he'd been dicing from the cutting board into the pot.

Sam shrugged. "Taking care of Cas, making dinner, you're almost domestic."

Dean turned red and scrambled furiously for a comeback. "Yeah, and you're, you're still a little shit." Nailed it.

Sam laughed. "Wasn't an insult. Just meant, I don't know. Different for you, I guess."

Dean eyed him, stirring the soup. "Don't have much of a choice. Poor guy just turned human and he's already going through it."

"I think he's dealt with worse than a cold before."

"Yeah, well, wish he didn't have to deal with any of it." Any of it meant plenty. Between Dean’s own fuckups, world apocalypses, and near-death and actual death experiences, Cas had been through the ringer several times over. And now he was human—which, by all counts, wasn’t the worst thing he’d been through, but it wasn’t ideal. It’d been a rough transition, anyway.

Cas seemed better recently, though, since getting somewhat used to being human. And things were going well between them. Getting sick was just one tiny wrinkle compared to everything they’d been through, right?

He stared at the soup and startled when Sam straightened off the counter with a comment that Jack was out with friends, he was leaving for Eileen’s, have fun giving Cas a sponge bath. Dean flipped him off as he headed out the door.

When the soup was finished, he ladled a bowl full and returned to the bedroom. Cas looked up from his phone when Dean entered with the bowl of steaming soup. “Hear from Claire?” Dean asked, nudging the door shut with his foot.

“She says she and Kaia have almost closed up the case." He set his phone aside. “They’ll be able to visit soon.”

“You tell her you’re sick?”

“She was incredibly non-sympathetic—thank you." Cas took the bowl from him. “She seemed to find it amusing that I once ruled garrisons and now can’t go five minutes without sneezing.”

Dean tensed, hoping Cas wasn’t hurt by the comparison, but Cas didn’t look offended. “Sounds like her.”

"Yes.” He breathed in the steam coming from the bowl. “This smells incredible.”

"Family recipe," Dean joked, sitting down next to him. "Well, someone's family. Straight from some blog online. Think it's pretty close to what my mom would make." He watched Cas pick up his spoon, and added, "Don't tell Sam." He'd never hear the end of it if Sam knew he was reading mommy blogs.

"Your secret is safe with me."

Dean picked up the remote as Cas ate, wondering if he should give Claire a piece of his mind. Sure, Cas was pretty easy-going about the whole giving up his grace thing, but no need to rub it in his face. Becoming human had to feel pretty pitiful after ages of being an angel.

He was trying to make it better where he could, though. “You wanna watch a movie tonight? I'll let you pick because you're bedridden."

"I am not," Cas protested, though he looked more than a little pleased at the idea of getting to choose. Dean braced himself for whatever ridiculous romance or musical Cas insisted on watching now—to date, he'd been subjected to La La Land , the ending of which had reduced Cas to tears for the rest of the night; Pride and Prejudice, okay not too bad, though he'd never admit it; and You’ve Got Mail, dammit not bad enough for him to hate either.

Instead of suggesting a movie, though, Cas said, "You're very caring, Dean."

"Uh." Dean turned from cycling through the movie options on the TV to look at Cas. He felt himself turn red under the look Cas was giving him, head tilted, that fond almost-smile he got. "Yeah, uh. What I do."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "It is what you do. You're very good at taking care of others."

"Oh, God, don't start that." By that, he meant the long compliments Cas so shamelessly gave him now, like he'd been storing them up for a long time and was finally able to hand them out. It was like the dam had broken that night when Billie and the Empty—

But he didn't want to think about that. Not when all the events since that day had led to Cas now sitting in bed blowing his nose, the trashcan by the bed overflowing with tissues. Poor bastard; he'd gone through one whole Kleenex box already.

"I'm only going to stop because talking hurts too much," Cas told him, tossing a tissue at the trashcan and missing sorely. Dean grimaced.

They nearly got through Mama Mia before Cas dozed off, head resting on Dean’s shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable position and Dean’s arm was half-asleep, but he refused to move. The mere fact that they were sitting together in bed, pressed against each other, was still enough to send him into shock anytime he thought about it too much. Cas—a literal former angel—had fallen in love with him. It was almost too good to be true.

But Cas was currently slumped against him, drooling on his shoulder, so he guessed it really was true.

As the credits rolled, he turned off the TV and touched Cas’ forehead with the back of his hand. Not as warm as before. At his touch, Cas blinked awake.

“It’s over already?”

“Whaddya mean, already? I just had to sit through two hours of singing and dancing.” It hadn’t been that torturous, but he couldn’t admit that—he had a reputation to uphold. Straightening, Cas rolled his eyes. “Feel any better?"

Cas’ expression turned thoughtful, as if taking stock of every physical sensation in his body, and Dean had to grin at his seriousness. He nodded. "Yes."

"Great.” He glanced at the time on the clock and realized it was later than he’d expected. “You probably wanna get some rest.”

Cas nodded with a yawn. "You don't have to sleep here if you don't want to."

Dean froze in the middle of pulling back the covers, mind immediately spinning out. "What?" They'd only started sharing a room a month ago, oh God, he'd known it was too good to be true, Cas was sick of him—

"I want you to," Cas said quickly, as if sensing Dean's downward spiraling. "I just don't want you to get sick."

Oh. Oh. Feeling a little sheepish for immediately jumping to the worst conclusions—one of his greatest talents, if he did say so himself—he shook his head. "Nah, I have a great immune system."

Cas' expression turned guilty and Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"About that..." Cas started slowly. Dean gave him a look. "Well, uh... Your immune system isn't quite as healthy as you think. I've been giving it a boost for the past several years, every time you started to get sick."

"What?" Looking back, it was pretty remarkable that he'd never gotten even a common cold with all the other shit they dealt with. "Fuck."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. I should be thanking you. So, uh. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Of course Cas had been taking care of him for years, Dean thought, when they settled in bed and he turned off the lights. Cas told him he was caring, but it was Cas who was the caring one. He’d sacrificed his life for him, for Christ’s sake. Then gave up his grace to return to Earth because he wanted to be with Dean and Jack and Sam and everyone. The guy didn’t have a selfish bone in his body.

The thought should’ve been a comforting one, but instead he felt antsy, unable to stay still, shifting under the blankets.

Turning onto his side, he nudged Cas, whose eyes had fallen shut. With a grunt, Cas opened his eyes and looked over at him.

“You alright?” Dean asked, which wasn’t really what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.

“I was when I was falling asleep,” Cas grumbled. But he shifted to face Dean. In the faint light coming from the bunker hallway, Dean could see the concern in his eyes. It sent a pang through him. Cas had given up so much, and Dean was doing all he could to make sure he never regretted it, and Cas told him all the time that he was content with his choice, but still the worry sat heavy in his stomach.

"Listen,” he started. “I just wanna let you know that being human isn’t all bad. I swear it won’t be miserable forever. I know you've been introduced to the bad shit first, but—"

"That's not true," Cas interrupted, touching Dean’s hand resting between them. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Dean, being human has been the single most rewarding experience in my entire life second only to raising Jack. It started with you rescuing me from the Empty and revealing my feelings weren't unreciprocated like I thought. I would say that's far from miserable.”

"Yeah, but you had to adjust to living without your grace, and eating food, and getting sick..."

"It's been difficult, yes. I won't lie and say I enjoy bodily functions or sneezing or headaches. But I do enjoy being with you and eating chicken soup and watching absurd TV shows. I wouldn't change this for anything. Whatever happened in our lives, it led us here. And I’m happy with where we are.” He studied Dean for a moment before asking, quieter, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, yeah, of course,” Dean hastened to say, because it was true. Fuck, it couldn’t be truer. “Of course. Just feel bad, I guess. That you gave up your grace and all that. Feel like I’ve hardly done anything.”

Castiel’s expression softened. “You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever dreamt of. And anyway, it’s not a competition, Dean. I take care of you, you take care of me. That’s what love is.”

Throwing that word around, love, still made Dean’s heart skip a beat. But it was true. He loved Cas and he’d do anything for him. The same, he knew, was true on Cas’ end.

Cas said it best, so he settled for lifting Cas’ hand and kissing his knuckles.

“I would kiss you," Cas said, smiling, "but I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Screw it," Dean said, and propped himself up on an elbow to kiss him. Then he shifted, turning over and pulling Cas’ arm to wrap around him. Even if the bastard was sick, Dean was making him be the big spoon.

"For the record,” he said, feeling Cas curl around him. “I wouldn't change anything either."

And he meant it. Even when he woke up the next morning with a sore throat and stuffed up nose. Cas—who seemed to have gotten over the worst of his cold—took only one look at him before declaring it was his turn to play doctor, throwing extra blankets at him and demanding the chicken soup recipe in a flurry of activity.

He’d take care of Cas, and Cas would take care of him. It sounded like a good life, Dean thought, settling back against the pillows with a smile. He wouldn't change a thing.