#somehow I think she’d still look upwards

[twanettee]

[flowerywoso]

the babysitter || irene paredes x reader

Summary: You've had a thing for Irene ever since you started babysitting for her. When she comes home after a night out with the team, you realize that your feelings might not be as one-sided as you thought they were. Pairing: Irene Paredes x Reader Words: 3,992 Warnings: 🔞, smut with plot Notes: I haven't written anything in quite awhile (I honestly wasn't planning on writing ever again but here we are), so this might be a little rough! Please don't hesitate to let me know (politely, please!) if you notice any horrible grammatical errors or notes to myself that I somehow forgot to take out. Do not post my works on Ao3. And I am horrible at titles.

You peek your head into the room once more, carefully easing the door open and, just as quickly, shut, once you determine that the toddler is definitely still asleep. It’s a habit you adopted after your friends began to have their own children, and one you’ve maintained for the kids you babysit. Tiptoeing back down the hallway, making sure to keep your footfalls as quiet as you can, you plop back down on the sofa, settling into the corner and taking a sip of your sparkling water, grabbing your novel and flipping it back open as you wait for the boy’s mother to return home.

It’s not that much later, only long enough for you to finish a single chapter of your book, before you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, announcing Irene’s return from the Barcelona squad’s night out. You don’t get up from the couch, merely setting your novel aside and uncrossing your legs, letting one dangle off the cushions.

She enters the room quietly, the low heels she’d left the apartment in abandoned on the mat by the front door so they don’t click on the wood floors, and when you look up you can see the flush on her face. You're not sure if it's the result of the chilly evening air or of her night out, but either way it's enough to make you swallow around a lump in your throat. The top and pants she'd left the house in are just as enticing now as they were several hours ago, and you wonder as she walks further into the apartment how you manage to stay sane around her.

“Hola,” she says quietly, setting her purse down in the center of the coffee table and taking a seat beside you on the sofa, sighing in relief as she relaxes into the cushions after a long night out. Your heart, as it so often does in the presence of the older woman, skips a beat as she comes nearer to you.

“How was everything?”

“All good,” you reply, beginning to recount your evening with Mateo. As always, the toddler had been easy, listening to you as well as one could expect a two-year-old to, and had fallen asleep on the sofa halfway through an episode of Bluey, only stirring briefly when you carried him to bed.

“He ate most of his dinner,” you relay with a smile, shaking your head at the memory of how the toddler had wrinkled his nose at the "yucky green" you'd provided for him, far more enthusiastic about the special treat that was the chicken nuggets unearthed from the freezer. “We had a bit of a struggle with the veggies, but other than that he was a perfect angel, like always.”

Your words bring a smile to the older woman’s face, and you can’t help but stop in your tracks for a moment, transfixed by the way her lips perk upwards, faint lines around her eyes becoming visible. You’ve seen her take an extra minute in the bathroom more than once after you arrive in the evenings, trying to conceal the bags beneath her eyes or the smile lines beginning to form at the corners, but you think that each and every part of her face is a work of art. 

You had no idea, when you first started babysitting for her, just how quickly your feelings for the older woman would grow. In the stolen moments at the beginning and end of the nights, before one of you walks out the door, you've learned more and more about Irene Paredes the person, not just the footballer, and something about her kept drawing you further and further in. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but you knew that you wanted her.

“Did you have a good night?”

Irene shrugs, shaking her head with a fond smile as she tells you about the Barcelona squad’s night out. She had mostly stayed on the sidelines alongside the other older players, keeping an eye on the girls closer to your own age as they enjoyed themselves, but Pina and Cata had managed to coax her and Alexia into having a drink and dance before she had excused herself.

The thought of Irene on the dance floor makes your heart pound, imagination beginning to run wild.

You’ve never been to Manuela’s, but from the way you’ve heard Irene describe it, there's absolutely no shortage of beautiful women. You know from the bits of information she’s given you that the Barcelona girls normally stick with one another, even while they’re out, but you’ve never been able to help yourself from wondering if any of the beautiful girls who frequent the club have tempted her enough that she’s taken one of them to her bed.

It's that thought, the unpleasant idea of her tangled between the sheets with a nameless, faceless girl from the club that makes your chest hurt. Before you fully notice what you're doing, you open your mouth and begin to speak, some jumbled mixture of thoughts spilling from between your traitorous lips.

"I mean if... If you ever wanted to stay out later... If someone..."

You trail off, clamping your lips shut as you realize just how inappropriate what you're implying is. You cringe, cursing yourself as you watch for her reaction, wait for her to get up off the couch and hand you your bags, let you know that now might be a good time for you to go home.

But she doesn't. Instead, all the older woman does is fix you with a questioning gaze, seemingly losing herself in thought for a moment.

She’s seated closer to you than she normally would be, than she ever has been before, and for a moment you wonder if she can hear your heart as it pounds in your chest, speeding up as she enters your space. You aren’t sure if it’s your imagination, the way her eyes seem to have fixed on you, tracing the details of your flushing face, eyes following your bottom lip as you nervously run your teeth over it.

“No,” she says at last. “None of the girls there have ever been who I wanted.”

Something about the word there catches your attention as it leaves her mouth, and you're certain that you must be losing your mind. Because there's no way, no way in the world that she wants you the way you want her.

The older woman reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you’re fairly certain that you’ve stopped breathing. Her hand pauses by your left cheek, which you're absolutely certain is flushing redder than the cap on her cherry flavored chapstick.

And suddenly, before you can even fully process the fact that her soft but strong hands are cupping your scarlet cheeks, the older woman is leaning forward and pressing her lips to yours.

You must have imagined this moment a thousand times, but never in your wildest dreams had you imagined it would actually come true. The older woman’s mouth is soft but insistent against your own, exploring your lips with hers, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had is a distant memory as you move with her, kissing her back.

Kissing Irene is even better than you imagined it would be - and you could fill a planner with the amount of times you’ve imagined this exact scenario. Her mouth is gentle, but there’s an edge to her kiss that contains a promise, the knowledge that she’s capable of being anything but.

When your lips finally part, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, you let out a little gasp, pupils blown wide as Irene stares into your eyes, both of you trying to process what has just happened. Even though she’s the one who kissed you first, Irene seems just as shocked as you are. But, behind her wide eyes is the same feeling you know she can easily spot in your own.

Desire.

“I… Fuck.”

You’re the one who leans forward this time, lips pressing against the older woman’s, the faint flavor of alcohol on her lips mixed with a hint of cherry from the chapstick you’ve seen her spread across her mouth more than once. The taste of her lips is intoxicating, and you can feel it going straight between your legs.

This kiss is deeper than the first, your arms wrapping around her strong shoulders to pull her closer, wanting to feel her body against your own. You part momentarily, gasping for air and only managing a brief breath before she’s kissing you again, every movement raising the stakes. You whine as her lips meet yours once more, hands coming to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. The older woman uses her own lips to pry yours open, her claiming tongue slipping into your mouth and beginning to explore further.

You let her take control of the kiss without protest, the arousal between your thighs intensifying exponentially with every second her body spends this close to your own. 

“Fuck,” she gasps, breaking away from your lips only long enough to grunt in your ear. “Fuck, I want you so badly.”

All you can do is nod, shaking your head up and down in agreement, because you don’t think you’ve ever wanted another person this badly in your entire life. 

“Irene,” you whine, pressing impossibly closer to her. “Please.” 

“Can I touch you?”

You’re nodding again before the question has even fully left her lips, and the older woman’s pupils go dark with how eager she is for you. She kisses you again, her football player’s strength showing as she pushes you backward onto the sofa, hands working their way up under your shirt. She doesn’t bother with the clasp of your bra, instead slipping her hands beneath the fabric to cup your breasts. Separating her lips from yours with a low groan, Irene immediately begins tracing a path over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a further wave of shivers up and down your spine. You moan quietly, remembering that you two aren’t alone in the apartment, but tilt your head anyway, granting her better access to your throat.

Advantage is rapidly taken, the Barcelona player letting a hint of teeth scrape across the delicate flesh of your throat as she rolls one of your nipples between her fingers, moaning quietly at the way you arch, pressing your chest further into her touch. 

Your nipples aren’t normally this sensitive, but something about the way Irene rolls and tugs at them makes the two buds feel as if they’re direct links to your most sensitive spot. Her touch is magical, and all you want is more.

As if the older woman can read your mind, the hand not busy exploring your chest slides further down, slipping under your black leggings and making you gasp, bringing a hand up to muffle your own sounds as long fingers begin to rub at your pussy over your panties. 

There’s far too much fabric between the two of you, and every thread feels like a cage. You need it off, need the last bits of separation between your heat and her touch gone, now. 

“Off,” Irene commands and, needing the barrier gone just as badly as you do, she doesn’t wait for you to obey before she’s hooking her own fingers in the waistband of your leggings, yanking them down over your legs. Your panties are removed in the same motion, both pieces of fabric coming to rest at your ankles. You try to kick them fully off, but only manage to completely free one leg before the older woman is pushing her way between your thighs, eagerly beginning to explore your bare pussy.

Her experience is clear from the first touch of her slender fingers against your naked heat, and you can’t help but press closer, spreading your legs further to give her better access. The older woman draws in a sharp breath as she circles your clit gently with one finger, exploring, watching for your reactions, the others gathering the rapidly accumulating wetness at your entrance. Irene's touch is electric, and the older woman finds herself becoming rapidly obsessed with the way your clit seems to plead for her touch.

With two of her fingers, Irene traces the outline of your pussy, hyper aware of just how wet you are, how your hole is begging silently for her fingers inside as she continues to rub your clit.

You let your eyes fall shut, eagerly anticipating just how good it will feel when the fingers you can sense lingering just shy of your entrance finally slide home, burying themselves inside your welcoming cunt. You’re practically pulsing with it, with how badly you need her inside, need to know just how she’ll fill you, what previously unknown spots inside the tips of her long fingers will be able to brush.

“Where do you want my fingers, bebita?” 

You whine, shifting your hips in an attempt to get even closer to her, to get her to slide her fingers into your throbbing heat. The digits, wet from your own slick, only withdraw further away from your needy hole, and you nearly sob with how badly you need the older woman, need her touch. 

Obvious as it may be, this nonverbal expression of how desperate you are for her to take you isn’t enough to satisfy the older woman, and she rubs your inner thigh soothingly. 

“Use your words, baby,” she coaxes. “Tell me where you need my fingers.”

The idea of using your words seems borderline impossible at the moment, your brain simply too overwhelmed with the reality of just how close her fingers are to slipping inside, but you can tell that you won’t get what you need until you do.

“My pussy,” you manage to whine, trying to stay as quiet as possible while pulsing with the need for her. “Please, Irene, I need your fingers in my cunt.”

Your words, base and simple as they are, are enough to get you what you need, and when Irene finally slides her fingers home, you can’t conceal the moan that tears its way free from your throat. You’re wet enough that the stretch of going from zero to two fingers inside your cunt brings nothing but pleasure, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud when you feel the ridges of her fingers settle against your walls, the older woman pausing for a moment to let you adjust to the feeling of her digits inside.

Irene has to swallow a wrecked noise of her own as she finally slides her fingers inside your soaking pussy, the sensation of your silky walls against her skin sending her brain into overdrive. The sound of your voice, desperation tinging your whispers as you plead for her to move, to fuck you, is absolute music to her ears, and she doesn’t hesitate to comply with the enticing request. 

Her pace is slow at first as she starts to move, the older woman eagerly exploring every curve and contour of your cunt, leaking around her fingers. It’s so warm and inviting, and the older woman has no idea how she’s lasted this long without knowing what feel like inside.

Once she’s sure you’ve fully adjusted to the stretch of her digits inside of you, Irene speeds up her thrusts, curling her fingers in search of the most sensitive spots hidden inside your pretty cunt. 

It’s clear when she finds what she’s looking for, because your cunt clenches down around her fingers and you squeeze your pretty eyes shut as pleasure rocks your body. 

“Oh,” she says, voice a whisper that tickles your ear and makes you shudder happily. “Is that where you need me?”

You nod desperately, the entirety of your reality reduced to the sensation of her fingers against the sensitive tissue inside you, stroking it insistently as her thumb comes to brush against your swollen clit. As she fucks you with her fingers, the older woman tests out different motions on your bud with her thumb, searching for the pattern and pace to take what’s left of your breath away. 

You can’t help but let out a cry as she presses a little harder, circling your needy clit at just the right angle. Irene quickly presses her lips to yours again, reminding you that you’re not alone in the apartment.

“Shh,” the older woman says, swallowing your noises with her own tongue, collecting each one. “You’ve still gotta be quiet for me, bebita.”

You nod in understanding, kissing her back desperately, bringing a hand up to tangle in her hair. You can be quiet, no matter how good it feels, you can be quiet, just so long as she doesn’t stop what she’s doing between your legs. Irene chuckles against your lips, redoubling her efforts between your legs. Her talented fingers thrust in and out of your pussy, each time hitting the spot that makes you see stars.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispers, lips right beside your ear. “That’s it, take it for me. Take it, just like that.”

You toss your head back, more than willing to comply. Every cell of your body feels like it’s on fire, and you want nothing more than for the burning to consume you completely. 

Your orgasm arrives without warning, Irene’s thumb on your swollen clit combined with her talented fingers inside your cunt sending you crashing over the edge with a fury you haven’t felt in a long time. You have to bite down on your lip to keep in your sounds as your it overwhelms you, nails digging into Irene’s bare shoulders. You can feel the older woman’s smile as she kisses your neck, fingers still moving gently inside you, working you through your climax, helping you ride it for as long as you can.

You shudder, aftershocks still shaking your body as you begin to come down from your peak. She slides her fingers out and you bite down on your kiss-swollen lip to keep yourself from whining at the loss. It takes another minute before you're able to gather yourself, fully opening your eyes and taking in the sight of the gorgeous older woman above you.

Irene presses another kiss to your lips, this one gentle, and you can feel the smile on her face as you give a final shudder, sitting up and leaning into her.

"How was that, bebita?"

"Fucking perfect," you reply, unable to conceal a grin of your own as you note how flushed her face still is. Knowing that touching you has her seemingly almost as worked up as you are sends a thrill through your body and you reach for the button of her jeans, aiming to return the favor, only for the same pair of hands that had just brought you to such an incredible orgasm to push yours down, Irene’s lips brushing against your forehead.

“Don’t you worry about me, baby,” she says, and you feel your heart sink with sudden disappointment.

“Are you sure?”

Irene wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, clearly oblivious to the way your shoulders sink. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

You blush, wanting to protest that getting to touch her would be just about the furthest thing away from a worry- dream or fantasy come to life would be a more accurate description- but a sudden wave of shyness overcomes you, the whiplash of going from the high of your orgasm to the valley of being denied an opportunity to make Irene feel as good as she’s just made you feel making your throat close up.

“O-Oh,” you say quietly. “Okay. I just…”

You trail off, not sure what to say to that. It feels like, without meaning to or realizing what she’s done, the Barcelona defender has just tossed a bucket of ice water over you.

“I… I guess I should head home then,” you say quietly, trying not to let her hear the hurt in your voice, reaching down and pulling your leggings back up over your calves and thighs until they rest around your middle. Your panties aren’t quite soaked, for the pure fact that they had been around your ankles soon after her lips first met yours, but they’re still wet enough that putting them back on isn’t exactly comfortable. 

And more than that, you don’t want to leave. Your body is still purring with the aftermath of your orgasm, the last thing you want to do right now is leave her apartment and walk the few blocks home to your own. The route between your apartment and Irene’s is one you know well, lit with plenty of streetlamps and well-frequented on a Saturday night, so any anxiety you might feel can be connected purely to leaving her after what’s just happened, without being certain where you stand. 

Irene opens her mouth and you pause with your hand on the knob, waiting, hoping that she’ll say something, offer her bed to share for the night. 

“Let me know when you get home safe,” she says quietly, and you can’t help the way your chest clenches with a strange sort of pain. You hadn’t really expected her to offer for you to stay, not with the amount of eyes that could be watching someone like her at any given moment, but you still can’t help but wish she had.

You nod in response to her question, clutching your bag close to your side as you shut the door behind yourself, beginning the short walk home.

...

“Fuck.”

The second the door shuts behind you, the defender wishes she could throw it open again and call you back in.

She had wanted to, especially after watching you come apart under her touch, seeing how pretty you looked as your orgasm overwhelmed you. The words had been on the tip of her tongue, but you had beaten her to it, reaching for the door handle and exiling yourself before she could even offer, and she hadn’t offered any protests. 

Peeking in the door, ensuring that Mateo is still safe and sound in his bed, the Barcelona player tiptoes quietly down the hall, two doors down, and pushes her own door open and shut behind her.

As she pulls off her top, letting it fall to the floor, quickly followed by her pants and bra, Irene curses herself, pulling back the covers and slipping into the too-big bed on her own. It feels cold compared to the contrast of your warm body against her own, and her chest pangs with the regret of not asking you to stay the night. 

Back in your own apartment, you slide beneath your own covers, mind racing at a million miles an hour.

No matter how your chest might ache at the fact that you’re here, alone in your own bed, the memory of the older woman’s lips on yours, of her talented fingers bringing you to orgasm right there on the sofa, of muffling your moans in her shoulder, still sends a familiar jolt of electricity between your thighs. With a soft whine, you reach for your the bedside drawer where you keep your vibrator, turning it up before pressing it against your still-swollen clit.

Blocks away, Irene is doing the same, quietly gasping out a much-needed orgasm with your name on her lips, the memory of your mouth on hers and your silken flesh beneath her fingertips sending her over the edge.

As the older woman drifts off into an uneasy slumber, the space beside her conspicuously empty, she knows that, now she's had you once, she won't ever be able to get enough.

[xxsabitoxx]

Unfortunate [Teaser] full fic has been posted

Sekido, Karaku, Aizetsu, Urogi x AFAB! Reader

Warning the full length fic will include the following: gang banging, dub-con / non-con, forced oral, forced orgasm, BDSM themes… which just means they aren’t easy on you whatsoever, humiliation, bukkake, outdoor sex, brain washing, etc etc etc

A/N: so I will say, this fic is going to be a darker one. I don’t think I’ve ever written like… full on non-con… honestly this fic will somehow lean towards dub-con anyways. Like let’s be honest, it’s gonna be a very morally gray fic. I mean we aren’t moral people let’s be real.

You had fucked up, big time. “Such a stupid thing! You couldn’t figure out that we wanted you to do this?” The green eyed demon laughed again, watching as you looked between the three of them. Laughing just a bit harder as you realized only three of them stood before you. “I-but…” there was a fourth. You were certain of it… so where the hell did he go? “Karaku…you’re so loud…” the blue eyed demon whined, eyes locked on you as he referred to the green eyed demon. “Shut it, Aizetsu.”

The red eyed one spoke again, staff hovering just a bit off the ground as he scowled at you. “You’re probably wondering where the fourth one went, huh sugar?” The green eyed demon taunted you, completely torn, you couldn’t figure out where to look. If your eyes left the three of them they’d likely attack. If you didn’t try to figure out the location of the fourth, it was likely he’d kill you instead. “C’mon, little slayer… Show us what you got…” the blue eyed demon spoke, voice somber and eyes filled with sadness.

“Urogi, quit playing around.” The red eyed demon bellowed, another name, but your brain was going too fast to remember it. The flapping of wings pulled you from your daze, head whipping in the direction of the noise but it was too late. Two claws grabbed around your waist, the sudden thrust upward knocking your blade straight from your grasp. A scream of shock left you as you were torn straight off the ground, head flying upwards to see what had grabbed you. Somehow, it was the fourth demon.

He looked just as the other three did, the only differences being his eyes and his limbs. Golden eyes stared down at you, a familiar smirk on his lips. Instead of arms and legs, he had claws. His limbs resembled that of a bird or reptile, large wings expanding behind him. You jerked as he stopped, hovering in the air as he looked you over. It wasn’t until he raised his legs that you realized he was using them to grasp you opposed to his arms. “What a pathetic thing you are…” he laughed as he let you go.

You began to plummet to the ground, body and mind so disconnected from your reality that you couldn’t even muster a scream before he swooped down to grab you again. Now, you were facing him, eyes wide and chest heaving. “You humans are so easy to break… though I must say I’ve never seen the fighting spirit leave someone as quickly as it left you.” He admired your petrified face, slowly descending until he was in earshot of his other halves. “Yah know, Sekido? We shouldn’t kill her just yet…”

His eyes trailed over your body, a cruel grin covering his face as he spoke. “Why don’t we have some fun with her? It’s been years since I’ve gotten my fill of human…desire.” The implications had you feeling hot, panic ebbing up the back of your neck as you squirmed in his grasp. “Oh? There it is…” he dropped you a moment later. The fall wasn’t a big one but it still hurt when you hit the ground. The panic was mixing with dread as you realized what the situation was turning to. “Fun? Urogi why can’t we just eat her…” the blue eyed demon whined softly as he stared at you.

“Oi, Aizetsu don’t be such a prude…” the green eyed demon spoke, walking over to where you sat on the ground. He crouched before you, smiling in a way that made you want to run. “She’d certainly have a good time, don’t you think Sekido? You know we need your approval to do anything…” he turned to look at the red eyed demon, a soft thump behind you told you that the winged demon had landed. You met the red eyed demon’s gaze, swallowing thickly as you waited for him to decide your fate.

“There are rules…you know. We each get a turn, no hogging her.” You got the chills, listening intently to the demons conversing about having their way with you. “Listen here, sugar.” The green eyed demon grabbed your face, keeping your attention on him as he spoke. “We’re gonna have a hell of a time with you… satisfy us and maybe we’ll let you leave here with your life.” Behind you, the winged demon snickered, feet dragging on the ground as he too crouched behind you. “You’ll be able to satisfy the four of us with your body, right?”

[lovedrruunk]

'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part v]

powder finally made it to the hangout stage (good for her!), and guess she never really realized how good talking to you one on one would feel. [part iv]

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ < banger song inspo!!

Powder shuffled along the stone sidewalk, her head down and her hands buried in her worn jacket pockets. The town square was deafening. The noise of it all was something she just couldn’t seem to get adjusted to. Sure, the undercity was loud, people yelling, arguing, running, sounds she was used to, sounds easy to block out. But this?

Easy laughter, happy chatter, meaningless conversation just for the sake of it. It was like a ringing in her ear, irritating her brain as if she wasn’t meant to hear it, like her ears weren’t developed enough to process it. 

Looking up at the people passing by she noticed how all of their faces were unfamiliar. Either she’d never met them, never looked them in the eye, or had totally forgotten about them. She wanted to feel bad about it but she just… couldn’t. All the faces here seemed so generic, like NPCs in a video game. Every face just seemed like a blur. Every face but one.

“Powder!”

And suddenly the ringing in her ear stopped. Your face wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t part of the background. It was clear, vivid, impossible to ignore. You were smiling at her, waving like you’d been waiting to see her. For a second, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just stood there like an idiot, staring back. 

It happened. In less than a week, the interaction she’d dreamed of had… actually happened.

It was a weird feeling, to watch the scene she pictured in her head constantly play out before her in real time. You called her name and waved her hello, because you knew her, because you were here to see her this time, not the baker, not the merchant, not your neighbors. The realization made her lips twitch upward and before she could stop herself, a goofy smile spread across her face. She probably looked ridiculous, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Sorry, did I make you wait long?” You asked, catching your breath.

“No, don't worry, I just got here.” She said quickly, shaking her head.

It was a total lie of course. She had been waiting long, long enough to overthink, to second-guess whether she should’ve shown up at all, and to count the cracks in the sidewalk. But it didn’t matter now. You were here, and somehow, that made the waiting feel insignificant, like it had been worth it.

You smiled, not questioning her answer, and pointed down the street casually. “I was thinking we could head down to the river.” you said, like the thought had just popped into your head. “It’s quieter there. I know the noise here can be a lot sometimes.”

Powder blinked, startled by how easily you seemed to know her, like you’d figured out something she hadn’t even put into words yet herself. She hesitated for a moment, her hands still shoved deep into her pockets, before nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”

You started walking, and she followed you without a word, just like she always had. Except this time she wasn’t sneaking around, because you had been walking together. At first, it felt strange. Her pace awkward, her head down, unsure of what to say or do. But you didn’t seem bothered by her silence, didn’t rush her to keep up or pressure her to fill the space between you. You just…walked, calm and easy, without a second thought.

The town square got quieter and quieter, replaced by the faint sounds of nature, birds chirping, the occasional rustle of leaves, and the distant sound of flowing water. Powder glanced up as they rounded a corner, catching the sight of the river. 

The water wasn’t super deep where you guys were, she could see the smooth rocks under the water from afar, some sticking out a little. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen water this clean or blue. The sun was out, but not in an annoying way. Just enough to keep things warm without making her squint. The wind was nice too, just enough to ruffle her hair, the perfect balance of warm and cool. The only sounds she could hear now was the soft splashing of water and chirping of birds 

For a second, she thought about how different it felt here. Like the world had slowed down just for you two. She glanced over at you and caught you smiling, like you’d been here a thousand times, like this was just another day for you.

When you reached the riverbank, you didn’t hesitate. You spotted a bench with a clear view of the water, sat down like it was your favorite spot in the world, and gestured for her to join you.

“See? Way better.” you said with a grin, stretching lazily.

Powder lingered for a second, her eyes flicking between the bench and the water, before finally sitting down. Stiffly. Like she’d never sat down a day in her life, or like the bench might break just to spite her. She looked around, her arms stuck to her sides, half expecting something to go wrong.

But nothing did.

The river kept flowing, and the trees kept swaying. The world didn’t seem to care that she was sitting there, that she felt out of place.

And then there was you.

You didn’t seem to care either, not in a bad way, but in a way that made her feel like it didn’t matter if she was awkward or didn’t know what to say. You were just… there. Sitting beside her, relaxed, watching the water like it was the only thing that mattered.

Powder shifted slightly, her arms relaxing a little. She wasn’t used to quiet like this, the kind that wasn’t filled with tension or internal voices, the kind that didn’t demand anything from her.

She still felt a little off, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. But for the first time in a while, it felt like maybe… maybe nothing had to go wrong.

“So, how are you liking the town?” You asked, breaking the silence.

She thought about it for a bit. It was such a simple question yet she had no idea how to answer it. Where would she begin? It was nice sure, peaceful, lively, the perfect place to settle, but how did she like it? Guess she never really thought about it. 

She liked her cabin. She made it her own and it felt nice to have a place to herself. She liked the market, even though she was always quick to scurry out of there. She liked the kids in town, she’d sometimes linger by a little longer and listen in on their conversations. Sometimes they’d be arguing over something stupid like who won which game, other times they’d be happily chasing each other around. She liked you, of course.

Sometimes she wondered what it would’ve been like if she had moved here earlier, before everything went wrong. It was a selfish thought really, but one she found herself often staying up picturing. Afterall, she knew someone who would’ve loved to play with the kids in town. She would’ve liked you too, would’ve liked this new life.

“It’s nice.” She muttered, keeping her eyes on the moving water. 

“Seriously…? That’s it?” 

That made her chuckle. She turned her head to look at you with a small smile and furrowed brows.

“What? It is nice.” She exclaimed

You stayed silent, rolling your eyes with a small ‘hmph’ looking away. 

“It’s also… new.” She continued after a small bit of silence. “Believe it or not, I’d never seen a forest before coming here… oh, or water this pretty.” she added absentmindedly as she took in their surroundings.

“Oh right, I’ve been meaning to ask. Where did you live before you came here?” You asked curiously as you turned to look at her again.

There it was, the dreaded question. Well, one of them. There were a lot of questions she was dreading. But she figured this one would come up sooner than later. 

It wasn’t like Zaun was known for its great living conditions.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn't nervous, she didn’t know how you’d react to her being from somewhere so… Scary? Dirty? Horrible?... she figured any one of those could work. A part of her was tempted to lie, say she was from Piltover or somewhere else that's fancy and shiny, but she knew she couldn’t do that to you, lying now? So early into your conversation? No way. And besides, she doubted she could stomach the idea of calling herself a Piltie.

Her throat felt dry, and her voice came out quieter than she intended.

“I… I’m from Zaun.”

“From where now?”

“The Undercity.”

There was a pause.

“Piltover.”

Still nothing.

She blinked at you, deadpan. “The ‘City of Progress’?”

Your expression lit up in sudden recognition. “Oh! With the Hex Portals?”

She didn’t even have the heart to correct you… 

Your confusion confused her, but she wasn’t exactly mad about it. It was... surprising, in a good way. Guess all that worrying was for nothing. She couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in your cluelessness, like it drew an even thicker line between her past and her present.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.” you said, your voice casual like this was just small talk. “Hm. It’s a long way from here, though. What made you leave?”

Her body stiffened. What was it with you and these dreaded questions? She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting back to the river.

As much as she wanted to be annoyed at you for asking the one thing she wanted to avoid, she knew she couldn’t. It wasn’t the question that was the problem, it was her answer. Anyone else might’ve taken it as a casual, perfectly normal thing to ask. The issue wasn’t you. The issue was her.

She opened her mouth, trying to come up with something to say, but nothing felt right. Her chest tightened

Thankfully, you seemed to catch on to her hesitation. Your voice softened. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me. I get it.”

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until that moment. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she gave you a small nod, grateful you didn’t push for more.

“Well,” you continued, leaning back on the bench with a smile “whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here now,”

She smiled again, her heart warm-

“even though you were kinda creepy at first.”

“What!?” Her head snapped towards you.

“Why is this surprising? You were like totally stalking me. Kinda had me worried.” You said casually with a laugh.

“Well- I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to be creepy.” She said defensively. “I just thought you were cool…”

Your teasing grin faltered, replaced by a look of surprise.

You blinked, clearly taken aback. “Oh.”

Powder winced, feeling like she’d just made things worse.

“Oh?” she repeated, nervously twisting her fingers together.

“Sorry, just didn’t expect that.” you said, your voice softer now, glancing down at the ground.

Her eyes darted away. “Was that... weird to say?”

“No, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean,” You laughed a little, still processing. “I didn’t think I’d come off as cool to anyone, let alone you.”

Her brows furrowed, she almost looked…offended. “Why not?”

You shrugged, a sheepish smile playing on your lips. “I don’t know. I think I’m pretty average overall. My life’s pretty mundane.” You said looking towards the sky absentmindedly. “No mysterious backstory, no crazy hair.” You finished with a laugh as you looked back at her again, only to be taken aback when you were met with a stern face.

“That’s what makes you cool.” She said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You just sat there staring at one another. Her face still serious and yours all the more surprised. 

“If you say so…”

Powder nodded sharply. “I do say so.”

Then you smiled, like you weren’t sure whether to laugh or say thank you

“Well... thanks, I guess,” you said finally.

.     .     .

The sun was starting to set now, the gentle sound of the river filled the quiet, and Powder found herself feeling lighter than she had in a long time.

“It’s nice here,” she said, almost to herself.

You glanced over at her. “Yeah. It is.”

You leaned forward, tilting your head to get a good look at her. “We should do this again sometime. Y’know, hang out.”

Powder blinked, looking over at you. The casual way you said it made her chest ache in that strange, unfamiliar way again. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’d like that.”

You smiled at her, a small, genuine one that made her stomach flip. Then you stood up, stretching contently.

“Come on,” you said, reaching out a hand to her. “We should head back before it gets dark. Can’t have you tripping over something.”

Powder rolled her eyes, smiling back. “I’ll have you know, I’m very good at walking.”

“Yuh huh,” you teased, grabbing her hand to pull her up anyway. “Whatever you say creep.”

“Ugh.”

. . .

"next part will def be out before new years!" i said knowing damn well it wouldnt be LMAO guys pls i have a life outside of tumblr OH MY DAYSSSS shocker ik

anyways sry this took long (i rewrote it TWICE) im actually not thattt happy with it STOP I CAN ALREADY HEAR THE BOOS AND TOMATOES BEING THROWN ik guys im never satisfied BUT TO POST SOMETHING I TRULY LIKE IT WOULD TAKE A WHOLE 2 MONTHS AT LEAST

ALSO THE STORY IS COMING TO AN ENDDD IM HEARTBROKEN TOO BUT BUT BUT DW I still plan on writing for this "au" or wtv, ill make a separate post explaining why/how ;P

THX SM FOR STILL READING I LOVEEEEEE U GUYSSS BYEBYE XOXOXO KISSKISSKISS

p.s ik jinx leaving zaun before act 2 wouldve been pointless cuz she needed the closure i just wanted to write abt her thinking abt it ;P

notes r appreciated ofc (˶ > ₃ < ˶)

[taglist ( ;´ - `;)!!]

@cattjull @kenqki @powderbomb-jinxed @iamastar @lostdreamingwallflower @errorlovernotfound99 @raven437 @cartalige @poncho-fisch @crushh-existz @slxtcity @jinxslapdog @radioheadfan699 @alduinworldeater11 @dulleyeddreamer @alicenasflowers

[USERS I CANT TAG 4 SUM REASON (◞‸◟；)]

@sacrasm-is-my-form-of-attack @wonylvxv @luvs4rc0r3

[woso-story]

2 Much

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Based on the song '2 Much' by Justin Bieber

Alexia lay on her side, propped up on one elbow, staring at you beside her. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the early morning sun sneaking through the curtains, casting a golden hue over your sleeping face. Your hair was tousled across the pillow, your chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, completely at peace. Alexia’s heart swelled, and she couldn’t help but smile. How could someone so perfect be lying here, in her bed, in her life?

She reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, careful not to wake you. Her fingers lingered for a moment, grazing the soft skin of your cheek. She often found herself wondering how she got so lucky, but mornings like this hit her harder than usual. Watching you sleep, so unguarded and serene, felt like a privilege—a glimpse into the purest part of you.

Alexia’s mind drifted, unbidden, to one of her favorite memories. You were out with her teammates, laughter and music filling the air, the kind of night that felt infinite. You had been on the dance floor, hair down, moving with an ease and freedom that seemed to defy the chaos around you. Alexia had been rooted to the spot, utterly mesmerized. She’d forgotten to blink, let alone breathe, because in that moment, she knew: This is it. This is where I’m supposed to be.

Her heart raced just thinking about it, even now. The way you lived your life—with so much love, so much care—astounded her. Whether it was your family, your friends, or the weight of your demanding schedules, you somehow carried it all with grace. Yet, you always made time for her. It was as if you had a way of stopping the world, just for her, even when it felt like it was spinning out of control.

Alexia looked at you again, taking in the delicate curve of your jawline, the slight upward twitch of your lips, even in sleep. She thought about the first time you met—really met—and how she didn’t realize at the time she was meeting the biggest blessing of her life. All those nights spent praying for a love like this, and now here you were. God really had done something extraordinary.

She thought about how often she told you, “I love you,” over and over again, probably too much for you to fully process. But she couldn’t help it. Every time she said it, it felt like the first time, and it was never enough to capture how she truly felt. Every syllable of your name was music to her ears, a melody she could play on repeat forever.

And those nights—those quiet, intimate nights—when your head was resting on her chest, the sun already peeking over the horizon. Alexia could never bring herself to sleep. She didn’t want to miss a single second of this—of you. She would rather fall in love over and over again than waste even a moment in unconsciousness. When you weren’t near, it felt like something essential had been taken from her, as though two seconds apart stretched into two unbearable months.

She sighed softly, leaning down to press the gentlest kiss to your temple. Even eternity wouldn’t be enough, she realized. If she had every day, every hour, every second with you, it still wouldn’t feel like enough time to show you how much you were loved.

You stirred slightly at the touch, your lips parting as you let out a small sigh but didn’t wake. Alexia smiled, her heart aching in the best way. I don’t want to miss this, she thought, letting her fingers trace invisible patterns on the sheets. I don’t want to miss a single moment of loving you.

Alexia settled back down, her head close to yours, her eyes never leaving your face. She whispered into the stillness of the room, words just for you:

“You are my everything.”

[bishopsbeloved]

a night in

kate bishop x female reader

After dinner plans are cancelled, Kate Bishop skips straight to dessert

straight up smut, kate topping, she is so fucking horny, fingering, oral (R receiving), mentions of her strap, 1.4k words

Dating Kate Bishop keeps you on your toes.

At the last possible minute, as the two of you were ready to leave her apartment in white tie attire for the high-end Valentine’s dinner reservation awaiting you, she got a call from Clint that had her huffing and grunting and tugging off her blazer.

“Stupid— fucking— superhero thing,” she’d muttered, fumbling with her quiver, “won’t— give me a, uhm, a couple hours, baby, I’ll be so quick.”

When she comes home, you’re at the kitchen counter, preparing a homemade meal in place of your prior plans. You’re still in the tight little number she picked out for you to match with her suit, figuring she’d still want to take it off you. The front door slams, and almost instantly she’s dropped her gear on the ground and made a beeline towards where you’re stood.

“Hi, baby,” you murmur, setting down the knife and turning to face her. Within a moment she’s pressing herself against your back, hands on your hips, stopping you from moving.

“No,” she sighs against your skin, her chest to your back, her mouth on your neck. She leans into you, draping herself over your back to pin you between her body and the counter, and hold you in place. “Stay.”

You’re quiet, cheeks reddening as her lithe arms curl upwards to let her hands cup your tits. Sometimes she’ll hold them just for the sake of holding them, but today she wastes no time in beginning to roughly grope them over your dress, fingers tugging hungrily at the cleavage.

“Katie,” you sigh, unable to stop yourself from leaning back, instinctively relaxing into her touch. She’s solid behind you, deceptively strong, groaning against the skin of your neck and then taking it between her teeth. You whimper.

“Was thinking of these the whole time I was gone,” she tells you lowly. She fumbles with the front of your dress, whining in the back of her throat when she can’t free your tits with ease.

“J— just my tits?” you manage, overwhelmed by her, arching your back into her touch.

“All of you,” Kate admits hoarsely, her hands moving to undo the zipper of your dress now. “Just you. Fuck.”

She’s all over you, she’s everywhere, beginning to grind herself against your ass as she trails open-mouthed kisses across the newly exposed skin of your shoulders. She tugs your dress down further still, impatiently rutting against you like a dog in heat, and you wince as you hear fabric rip.

“S’fine,” she mutters against the skin of your spine, sending shivers down it. She begins to tug you towards the sofa. “C’mere.”

“Katie, the food,” you remind her.

“I don’t— screw the food, we’ll get takeout. You taste better.”

She grips your hips as she sits on the sofa and pulls you onto her lap. The dress is somehow squirmed off of you entirely, leaving you in nothing but panties, and as Kate fights with the buttons of her own shirt you’re finally able to take her in — her pretty lips are parted as she pants softly, cheeks a little flushed, pupils blown. She looks up at you as she tosses her buttonup aside and a thrill of arousal shoots through you as her darkened, hungry eyes lock onto yours and finally your lips meet.

You whine openly into her mouth as her tongue slides against yours, and her hands make their way to your tits again, her thumbs toying with your nipples. Without the boundary of your dress you can feel how cold her hands are, and it makes you tense, squirming a little.

“Shhh, sh sh,” she soothes against your lips, “just let me play with you. Been— been thinking of you like this all night, baby, fuck.” She drags out the syllables, her voice dripping with need, and she’s not the only thing that’s dripping.

“You’re so wet, huh?” Kate muses as your wetness seeps through your underwear and onto her trousers. She jogs her leg, rubbing against your cunt and watching with amusement as you squirm. “Yeah? That feel good, baby? You want more?”

You cry out in the affirmative, and one hand stays on your tits while the other slides down to nurse your overwhelming wetness. She toys with you over your underwear, teasing your clit until you’re shivering in her arms, before growing impatient with her own games as she often does and sliding her cold hand beneath the lacy fabric. You yelp at the contact, and let out a low guttural cry as she slides two fingers into you without hesitation.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothes you, lazily curling her fingers inside of you as the pad of her thumb makes its way onto your clit. “Just be a good girl and take it. I’ve been outside working, I’ve been so cold, and I was thinking of this the whole time. You’re gonna be good for me and warm me up, okay? You gonna warm up my fingers?”

“Y— yes,” you cry out. You’re rolling your hips into her, arms curled around the back of her neck, and as the pleasure grows more intense your head falls forward to rest on her shoulder. You pant softly as, on every thrust into you, Kate fucks into the sensitive spot of your gummy walls that makes your vision go white.

“So— s’good,” you whine, breath hot against her skin, and you feel her shiver a little.

“Yeah?” she murmurs, picking up the pace a little. With every thrust your wetness seeps out of you and down onto her thigh, soaking it. “God, you’re so fucking tight,” she says desperately, whiny, her own hips beginning to rut up into you as she fucks you, and it’s the way that she gets off on your pleasure alone that has you gasping and teetering on the edge.

“Cum— cum on my fingers, baby,” she almost begs, an arm looped around your waist to hold you in place as she fucks you steadily, sinking her teeth into the soft skin of your neck. With a cry you obey, blinding waves of euphoria rolling over you as you clench around Kate so hard that she struggles to continue thrusting into you.

“Fuck, fuck,” she grits, fucking you through your orgasm and shuddering a little. The realisation that she’s cum in her pants just from fucking you has you whining, dragging your fingernails down her back, rocking into her. Eventually she pulls her hand from your cunt, sucking your slick off of her fingers and whimpering at the taste.

“Have to taste you,” she mumbles, almost to herself, easing you off of her lap onto the sofa and then getting on her knees. “Just take what I give you, baby, so good for me.”

Kate nudges your thighs apart, burying herself between them and running her tongue up your slit. She groans at the taste, not caring for your little whimpers of overstimulation.

“So fucking good,” she breathes, one arm wrapping itself around each of your thighs to hold you in place. You’re too far gone to muster a reply.

Kate Bishop always eats you out like a woman starved. Tonight, though, she’s hungrier than you’ve ever seen her. She laps at you messily, her nose nudging against your sensitive clit, desperate to engulf you. You’re crying out her name, writhing, and when you reach out to wind your hand through her hair she looks up at you through her lashes. Her eyes are wide and dark, lips swollen, the entire lower half of her face glistening with your juices. She blinks up at you hungrily, still lapping at your clit, swallowing everything you have to offer her, and the sight paired with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you is enough to have you cumming on her tongue. She hums approvingly against you, the vibrations only prolonging your orgasm, and you feel so overwhelmingly good you can’t even move. Eventually she slows down, sensing your need for a break, and makes her way back up your body to tug you into her arms and hold you close to her.

“So good for me,” Kate soothes you, a hand combing through your hair. “So good at taking everything I give you. So, so good, my gorgeous baby.” She waits until you’ve come down a little more, until your eyes are a little less glassy, before grinning at you. “Happy Valentine’s, sweet girl. You want to ride my strap next?”

[hotreadingwitch]

Bucky x Reader - Again?

Content Warnings/Kinks: dominance, praise kink, daddy kink, choking, scratching (marks), breath play, breast play, finger sucking, fingering, cum swallowing, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex (multiple rounds) 

Again? 

“You know I wasn’t sure if you were going to ask me out again…”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky smiled slowly in that way Y/n was starting to think might just drive her crazy, “Why’s that?” 

“No reason in particular I guess” she blushed.

“You should give yourself more credit you know? You’re a beautiful and smart woman Y/n” 

His steel eyes lingered on hers for a beat too long before he moved to hold the restaurant door open for her. 

~ 3 hours later ~ 

“Well, this is my place” she smiled nervously as she invited Bucky into her apartment. 

“It’s very nice Y/n” he nodded curtly as he assessed the place. 

Y/n shook her head, chuckling at the polite way he talked. She’d noticed him talking this way on their last date, using odd expressions, almost sounding as if he was from a different time. 

“Come, I’ll give you a tour” she offered with a small chuckle, gesturing to the small space. 

She took his gloved hand, leading him in a small circle through the apartment. He glanced down at the connection but if he had anything to say about it he kept his thoughts to himself. 

“Kitchen” she pointed. 

“Kitchen” he affirmed, bobbing his head slightly. 

“Living room” 

Another curt nod. 

“Bathroom, in case you need it” she smiled, “and…Bedroom” 

They stood in front of her door. It seemed to Y/n as if Bucky was trying his hardest to not peak into the cozy room or maybe there was something else that he was trying to resist. 

“Bucky…” she said quietly, her voice thicker than she’d have liked. 

His gloved hand came up to her cheek, caressing the skin with a softness she somehow hadn’t expected, the leather smooth against her skin. 

“Can I—“ he seemed to gather himself, “Can I kiss you?” 

“You can kiss me” 

The tension between them crackled. As Bucky leaned down, his tall, broad frame curving down to meet hers as she tilted her parted lips upward. When he finally captured her lips with his it was like they both were suddenly put in a trance, unable to keep their hands off of each other. Bucky’s hands slid under the fabric of her shirt, gripping at her waist just as hers secured themselves behind his neck. 

“Fuck” he groaned onto her mouth. 

Guiding them into her bedroom, she moved backward until he knees hit the edge of her plush mattress. His hand grazed her neck lightly as their kisses slowed. She melted into his touch, sighing onto his mouth at the feeling. He parted their lips slowly, dragging away from her only by an inch or two to ask, “May I?” 

When she nodded, both his hands gripped her breasts, kneading their tender tissue. He kissed between them and down her stomach, stopping above her pussy, concealed still by her short skirt and panties. 

“You’re so fucking perfect doll” he groaned as he slid them down her legs. 

“Doll?” She chuckled lightly, arching a questioning brow, “How old are you?”

Bucky looked completely serious when he replied, “106” 

She laughed harder, her chuckle interrupted as Bucky caressed her cheek, pulling her in for another hungry kiss. Their mouths collided, mashing their lips and teeth together. They kissed for minutes but somehow it felt like hours. Y/n knew she could kiss him forever if given the opportunity. 

When he finally spread her legs, not bothering to take off her skirt, his eyes darkened in a way that, at any other time with any other man, might be considered scary. 

“I—” he started, uncharacteristically shy. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just…it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this—I don’t usually…” he gulped, slipping his glove off, revealing a dark metal arm that shimmered in the low light. 

He looked at her expectantly as her eyes widened slightly. 

“I need you to touch me” she begged then, her voice breathy, “Now” 

His gaze trailed down her slowly, skirt scrunched up, face flushed, pussy bare, and all for him. The first contact of his fingers was desperate, like he couldn’t resist touching her and was so glad that she needed him as much as he needed her. He rubbed over her clit gently, using three warm fingers flat against her, making her hips buck upward in response.

“Fuck” she breathed, gasping as his fingers spread her lips, playing with her clit with intense focus.

As he rubbed against her, his mouth dived down, tasting her hole. He moaned onto her, the vibrations making her shiver, as he licked up the slickness that was already there. 

“You taste so fucking good” he groaned again, “Fuck—doll you’re driving me crazy” 

She ground her pussy up to meet his prodding tongue, shaking as his fingers pleased her clit. Y/n felt his other hand, the mysterious metal one, reach up and caress her neck, the cool material sending another shiver down her spine.

“Yeah that feels good doesn’t it?” he chuckled as her back arched upwards, her clit connecting to his other hand’s calloused fingers. 

Warmth shot through her body, making her cheeks flush and her breath hitch. Y/n practically screamed, crying out and shaking as he removed the hand from her neck, pushing two fingers just inside her wet hole instead. She was soaking, yes, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t tight. In fact, she was so clenched that he could barely press his fingers further than an inch or two into her. 

“Doll…” he groaned as if in awe, “Fuck—this pussy’s so tight”

Y/n could feel the familiar sensation building in her lower belly. He plunged his two metal fingers in and out of her, caressing a low, sensitive spot within her. 

“Fuck” she whined, the feeling intense and rising quicker and quicker by the second. 

She kept her grip on his thick hair as her hips bucked rhythmically toward his eager hands. He didn’t even have his mouth on her and yet he’d brought her to the edge somehow anyway. “Ah—shittt” she gasped, her breath hitching. 

He held down her hips with his arms, holding her pussy in place as she squirmed with pleasure. 

“Cum for me doll, cum on these fingers” he commanded, eyes full of lust. 

Bucky ordering her to cum with his fingers pleasing her like she’d never been pleased before was enough to make her burst all over his hands. She throbbed and throbbed, pleasure coursing through her like a rushing river. 

“Mmm,” she moaned quietly, satiated as Bucky rubbed slowly over her whole pussy, the feeling calming beneath his large palm. When he finally removed his fingers from her, her legs shook as if instantly missing the loss of his touch. He chuckled darkly before kissing her, capturing her mouth in a quick tangle of tongues. She felt his flesh hand gripping her neck, the feeling causing her to whimper on his lips. 

“You’re killing me doll” he groaned, eyes dark, “So fucking beautiful when you cum for me” 

His lips kissed at her jaw, right above where his hand was squeezing roughly at her neck, as he raised his other hand to her lips, placing two soaked, metal fingers on her lips. 

“Open” he instructed, his tone leaving her with no other option, not that she’d want to say no. Y/n obeyed, taking his fingers into her mouth, making him groan at the sight. She moaned as she closed her lips around them, appreciating the feeling of fullness and the taste of her own cum on his cold fingers. 

She reached down his front, pulling at his belt buckle with a low, desperate whine.

“Please Bucky” she begged, her doe eyes conveying her need. 

“Fuck, I want to…but I can’t—“ he paused frustrated, his voice a low growl, “I can’t go slow, it’s gonna be rough doll, I need it rough—fast”

She nodded obediently, slinking back further onto the bed until she hit the headboard, Bucky following in her wake as if literally mesmerized by her. His left hand caressed her side, pulling the rest of her clothes off of her, as she did the same to him, leaving them both bare. 

“Daddy?” His head snapped up to look at her, eyes darkening more and more as the silence stretched. 

When he finally spoke, his voice strained, “Yes?” 

“I need you to fuck me now” 

“…I don’t want to hurt you” 

“I don’t care” she shook her head, reaching back to spread her ass cheeks, making him grunt at his view, his palms immediately gripping her ass, “Don’t you get that I want it as much as you do? I want you to hurt me, to fuck me so hard you can barely control yourself. Unless you don’t want me anymore?”

“Fuck—doll, I—” Bucky slipped himself between her legs, grinding his hips slowly forward and back so that his massive cock became coated with her slick, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes Daddy” 

With a grunt, he stretched her hole with his large size, pushing so much of it into her that her legs spread on instinct, one hooking back over him. His hands grabbed at her waist, every inch of his taut, naked body on display for her to turn and see as he pulled her fully down onto his cock. The fit of him was so snug, so tight that his groan was practically feral.

“Yeah—fuck yes” he encouraged as his cock began to slap in and out of her, “Shit, I’m fucking stretching you doll” 

Bucky tilted her head back with a small nudge under her chin, his lips crashing down onto hers so fast that she barely had time to breathe.

“Mmm,” she moaned into his mouth, wincing at the size of him and the immediate speed of his thrusts. 

His cock was ridiculously big but she took it like the good girl she was, practically beaming the more he praised her, telling her how good she was and how much her tight pussy drove him crazy. Each thrust felt like heaven and it was only made better when he slunk a hand down between her legs to start rubbing her clit, pleasing her in every way. 

“Hold your breath doll” he ordered then, his voice husky in her ear, “And choke yourself for me”

She obeyed without a second thought, sucking in a breath, struggling as she squeezed her throat, using both hands to cut off her air supply as much as possible. "Yes,” she moaned, her noises muffled. 

The feeling of her own hands tight around her neck, paired with Bucky pleasing her, was everything she needed to be sent over the metaphorical edge. Her body writhed in front of him as heat pulsed within her. Her heart raced in her chest the more and more she refused to breathe, her body making a mess all over his cock.

“That’s it” she finally gasped, her lungs filling up with short stifled breaths, “Daddy…” 

His pace was fast, dangerous, and practically animalistic. Her breasts bounced up and down as she ground backward, her hips snapping to meet each and every one of his powerful thrusts. “You—you” she stuttered, her voice quivering before turning to a sigh, “Fuck, that feels so good” 

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s my girl” he praised, grunting.

Soon, the feeling began to dissipate, the strong waves of her orgasm lessening, her legs shaking. But he kept thrusting. 

“Again?” she whimpered, looking back to meet his steely gaze. 

“Again” he grunted. 

Her pussy was aching, overstimulated, and sore but the feeling of him hitting even deeper within her was enough to make her nod her head obediently and murmur a small yes. Bucky flipped her over then so that she was on her back, facing up at him. He continued fucking her then, roughly thumbing her stiff clit. Her hole was so sensitive, the combination was enough to make pleasure rise up quickly within her all over again. 

“Fuck” she whispered as he curved forward over her, sucking her jaw as his other, metal hand, squeezed her throat. Her eyes scrunched closed, allowing her mind to focus exclusively on the feelings.

"Don’t take your eyes off of me doll” he growled, “don’t you fucking dare” 

Eyelashes fluttering, she resisted the urge to close her eyes, his tight, relentless grip on her jaw making sure her eyes never dared to look away from his dark gaze. Her body shook beneath him, her legs and arms all quivering, “Yes Daddy…” 

She arched her back, pushing her breasts up to touch his chest as she threw her head back into the pillow and her hands up to grip the headboard. The angle of her body only allowed him to fuck her deeper, her hands holding on so tightly that her knuckles were turning pale. Y/n’s room filled with the sounds of sweaty skin slapping as Bucky’s hips snapped against her soaking wet pussy. 

“Do you feel that doll” he growled as one hand played with her clit, still thrusting in and out, “That’s how it feels to have my fucking cock throbbing in your pretty little pussy”

Her head lulled to the side but his strong hand kept her face forward, looking straight at him as she came. She whined as her pussy pulsed, tightening around his pounding cock. Bucky moved his hand down under her back as it arched up off of the mattress, her body overwhelmed by the pleasure. As he grunted hoarsely in her ear, she could tell he was cumming too. The feeling was like a bucket of ice water washing over her body, sweet intensity running through her veins, making her shiver. She cried out, the pleasure was too intense. 

Bucky groaned, fucking into her faster and faster, playing with her clit all the while, as he pushed them both through their second orgasm. 

“Fuck, that’s it doll” he cursed, “So wet—fuck—so fucking good for me”

She gripped his broad shoulders, scratching down his tanned back, her nails no doubt leaving marks that claimed her as his as much as the cum dripping out from her pussy made sure she belonged solely to him. 

[bellobambino]

'O Sole Mio'

?: After a few glasses of cheap Chianti, Luigi tells you a story. Nothing could have prepared you for its delivery.

1,080w

Author's Note: I don't have any words left after this, all i have is feelings and crying and ... im so gone for him. ive lost my mind. i dont know if this shit makes any sense but i was just about weeping writing it LOL

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

It was the last golden gasp of summer at Seaside Heights, the kind of evening that feels like a postcard itself. The boardwalk was alive with the smell of fried dough and the sound of distant screaming children on rides powered by questionable engineering. Luigi and I had wedged ourselves into a corner table on the patio at some hole-in-the-wall Italian place.

We had ordered slices and “just a glass” of wine, which inevitably became, “Just bring us the bottle.” By the time I was three pours deep, Luigi had his legs stretched out like he owned the place.

His eyes, espresso-dark and shining under the cheap string lights of the boardwalk, were giving me that look. You know the one. Like he knew how good he looked in his half-buttoned linen shirt.

That’s when he suddenly froze, his head tilting to the side. He pointed upward. The music—some cheesy, dramatic Pavarotti knockoff that these Italian dives play to try and appear authentic. Then he smiled, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“What?” I asked, already laughing at whatever dumb thing he was about to say.

“Oh my God.” He shook his head. “I can’t tell you. No way.”

“Well, now you have to tell me.” I smacked his arm—rock solid.

He paused and sighed. “Okay, but promise me you won’t laugh.” He leaned in with a straight face that had me eagerly anticipating another highly entertaining Mangione story.

“I promise,” I lied.

“Alright.” He looked around, then leaned in conspiratorially. I was melting for this man. Every moment with him felt important, filled with meaning. He could have said anything, and I’d lap it up like a dog. “So,” he started, rubbing his face like he was already regretting this.

“My mom used to play these mix CDs on the stereo at home. Pavarotti, Bocelli, all the classics, right? She’d be cooking, cleaning, just vibing to these… love songs.”

“Sure,” I said. Totally normal so far.

“But this song”—he pointed upwards again to the song playing on the patio speakers—“‘O Sole Mio,’ a total guilty pleasure for her. When it came on, she would lose her mind. Singing, swaying, dancing. And eight-year-old me sat there watching her, thinking, This must be the greatest song in the history of songs. So, Mother’s Day comes around…”

At this point, Luigi paused, biting his lip like he wasn’t sure he should continue. I couldn’t help the smile that possessed my face.

“Oh my God, Lu, what did you do?”

He waved me off, reaching for his wine. “No, nah, I can’t—”

“Finish the story, Luigi.”

“Fine.” He threw his hands up. “I learned the song. Like, the whole song, okay? I watched every Pavarotti performance on YouTube at the time. Memorized the lyrics. Practiced in front of the mirror. And on Mother’s Day, I performed it for her.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. For her, my family, my cousins, neighbors. I’m pretty sure Pavarotti himself has sung for smaller audiences.”

I lost it. “You did not…” I said, breathless already. The image of little eight-year-old Luigi in my head, filled with love for his mama, singing an Italian love song in complete earnestness, was too hysterical to keep contained.

“I did,” he admitted. The music swelled in the restaurant, hitting that classic over-the-top crescendo, and Luigi—my God, this man—pushed back his chair and stood up.

“And now…” He slapped his hand on his puffed-up chest and lifted his chin.

“Luigi, NO.”

“I will sing it for you.”

And let me tell you, it was terrible.

He was hamming it up like some kind of opera drunk on karaoke night, his voice all over the place but somehow still deeply passionate, like he was singing to save Italy itself. People in the restaurant were staring. I was just as mortified as I was captivated. Tears were streaming down my face. Dying. And he didn’t stop. He didn’t care. He kept going—arms gesturing wildly, every crescendo perfectly wrong—and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

When he hit the final note—“O SOOOOLEEEEEE MIIIIOOOOOOO!”—he threw out his arms in a dramatic flourish, like he was expecting roses to rain down from the sky. I clapped so hard my palms hurt.

When he finished, he bowed. One or two other patrons gave half-hearted claps, probably just impressed by his dedication to the bit. His cheeks and ears were a delicious shade of pink, his smile lighting up his face as he moved his chair closer to me.

“You’re too much, Luigi,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes.

He finally sat down, our knees touching. He leaned towards me, and suddenly I was his only audience. “Do you know what the song means?” His voice was soft, so only I could hear. There was a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there before.

I shook my head.

“Okay, ‘O Sole Mio’—it means ‘My Sunshine.’ It’s about… someone being the light of your life. Like…” He shifted his weight, trying to find the words. “Like even the sun itself can’t hold a candle to the person you love.”

He ran a hand through his hair, a little embarrassed by the intensity, but too caught up in the moment to stop himself. “It’s like the artist was saying, ‘The world is so much brighter with you in it.’ The guy is completely wrecked over how beautiful life is because of this one person... you know?”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, gauging if any of this was resonating with me at all. His goofy bravado had melted into something almost painfully genuine and sincere.

This was real for him.

“I do know, Lu,” I said quietly.

He leaned back, taking his wine. He shrugged. “And that’s why I sang it for my mom.” He tried to downplay it, but I saw right through him. “Because she’s always been my sunshine. Always will be.”

My breath caught in my throat at that.

Then, he must have realized he’d gone too far into the serious zone. He snapped back to being playful. “Anyway, I fucking nailed that performance on Mother’s Day, and everyone talked about it for weeks after.”

I don’t know if he realized what he was doing to me. The lights sparkled brighter. The air tasted sweeter. And my heart was warmer. Because he was here. He was insane, but I wouldn't have him any other way.

The song made perfect sense. Life is a gift with you.

~~~

What a beautiful thing is a sunny day.

But another sun, even more beauteous, oh my sweetheart, My own sun, shines from your face This sun, my own sun, Shines from your face; It shines from your face

[celestibabs]

pairing; billy hargrove x f!reader

contents; 18+ mdni. boudoir photography, heavy petting, dry humping if you squint | wc: 1k

note; starting off simple for my return to writing... nothing too long or too spicy, but we all know that won't last very long.

Billy snatches the cigarette from his mouth as if it scolded his taste buds, flipping the envelope you’d handed him in his hand with intrigue. His perfect blonde eyebrow raised in query, he raises his gaze at you pointedly. 

“What is it?” He speaks flatly, exhaling the smoke in his lungs slowly so it kisses at his cheekbones. 

“Just open it,” you murmur quietly, worrying your lower lip with your teeth. Billy hums softly, fussing with the lip of the envelope with his fingertips and teasing your nerves. 

You’d tortured yourself over a Christmas gift for Billy, thinking of all possible options and how he’d be entirely unimpressed. Minus a new set of weights or a large tub of some kind of protein-shake powder, you knew he’d probably shove your gift in a cupboard and forget about it until he needed to take the Christmas lights out next year. 

Desperation had kicked in around two weeks before Christmas day. Wandering in and out of the few shops in Hawkins like a demented zombie had resulted in empty hands and muttered curses of frustration. Unprompted comments by Billy insisting that he didn’t want any gifts had fueled your indignation, especially given his tone had somehow strayed into something pitiful in comparison to the monotonous, bored drawl he usually offered.  

The idea came to you spontaneously. Nancy had called to tell you about a playful tiff she’d had with Jonathan over some Playboy magazine’s she’d found in his bedroom while moving her things in for Christmas. Her voice had practically faded into oblivion when you’d remembered the torn-out Playboy pages plastered to the wall above Billy’s dresser. 

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that Billy was pulling apart the ribbon you’d tied around the neatly wrapped gift, you’d begun to feel queasy.

Before tearing the wrapping paper, Billy prolongs your suffering with a smug smirk, clearly noticing your anticipation. He lifts the item, shaking it like a five year old rattling their present box as though it would offer insight into what lay inside. “Give me a hint.”

“Billy,” you huff, exasperated already with his antics, “Just open the stupid thing before I take it back.” 

He hums, finally pinching the edge of the wrapping between his thumb and forefinger before pulling upwards, the paper ripping open to reveal the contents inside. 

Billy paused, slowly exhaling the dregs of his cigarette in a gentle stream of smoke through his nose. 

Your heart catches. 

The glossy pages of the personalised Playboy Magazine rippled slightly as Billy brought the images closer for a better look. It was unmistakably you on the front cover, perched in a seductive position on a stool dressed in an unbuttoned blouse with peaks of the black, lacy lingerie you wore underneath. 

Poor Jonathan had been mortified when you’d begged him to take the last minute images. Despite his reluctance, and Nancy observing his every move to ensure he didn’t stare too long, he’d worked hard to ensure he could emulate the magazine quality. Of course, you hadn’t told him who they were for.

You knew you looked fantastic, but Billy’s silence was unnerving you. 

“There’s more inside,” you murmur, cheeks burning, “Some don’t have my face in them so you can tear them out and put them on your wall.” 

Another slow exhale, Billy’s eyes flitting over the magazine cover had your heart lurching in fear. Was he angry? He still didn’t say much when he began to thumb through the pages, stopping on a particularly scandalous page where you swept aside the bounce to reveal the curve of your breast, lips parted seductively but the image excluding the rest of your face. 

“Billy, I’m–” 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, taking his cigarette from his lips and stubbing it into an ashtray settled on the arm of the sofa you’re both perched on. “You want me to pin photos of you half naked on my wall, for everyone to see?”

Billy reaches forwards, taking a hold of your chin in his palm and pulling you forwards so your noses bumped together. Your breath hitches, seizing in your throat when you feel Billy’s breath fan across your face. 

“You little slut,” Billy coos, his free hand working its way between your knees to inch up the inside of your thigh. His touch leaves a delicious burn, like the smouldering embers of his cigarette end had set his fingertips alight. 

Billy’s lips brush against your own as he speaks, his fingers ghosting over the seam of your trousers to apply slight, teasing pressure to your clit. “I’ll put them up on the wall opposite the door. Make sure everyone gets to see how much of a slut you are for me.” 

You can see Billy’s cock straining against the right denim of his jeans. He’s all worked up at the idea of showing you off like this, and seems intent on dragging you down into a horny-haze too. 

“If you’d like that,” you whisper, voice catching slightly in your throat as Billy leans his head down to drag the flat of his tongue across your pulse point. You hear him chuckle softly, feel the rumble against your neck, and you’re almost certain it’s because he can somehow taste your arousal through your skin. 

“I’d love that,” he smirked, his hands slowly working their way beneath your shirt and pushing it upwards to expose the naked flesh of your stomach, squeezing at your breast when you arch your back for him. 

“Merry Christmas, Billy,” you laugh at that, your giggle faltering into a soft whine when Billy punches at your nipple, rolling the stiffened bud between the pads of his thumb and forefinger to tease you further. “Mhmmm,” Billy hums, nipping at your neck and slowly laying you back against the couch. He doesn’t seem to mind that the ashtray that had balanced on the arm of the sofa tips off onto the floor, or that the magazine falls to the floor. He’s far too busy grinding his hard cock against you. “A very merry Christmas it is.”

[dearharriet]

About Time | Chapter 1

james potter x reader time travel au | 3k words | contents

page 1 | next

00:00 — 1 JANUARY

James waited until he’d fallen into his childhood home, half-plastered and sad and staring himself in the eyes through his bathroom mirror. His gaze seemed colder, lonelier than usual, and when he splashed his face with cool water it chilled him to the bone.

He’d never been unsettled by solitude, never minded much retreating to an empty bed at the end of a long day. Until then.

That’s when he knew he had to go back.

+

“Pardon me.”

The voice from behind you was so sudden and deep that you jumped, whipping around clumsily to meet it.

“God, you startled me!”

Laying eyes on the man responsible, you instantly released any ill-will you had.

“Hi, sorry,” he said, and you were already quite smitten.

He was young, though surely not any younger than you. Handsome too, in a dismantling way, like he might take you apart if you were an old clock, just to see what made you tick.

And if he wasn’t young and handsome, he’d still gain a little credit just in looking so guilty for spooking you.

“Hi.”

This was January, and you were out on the veranda, so your breath escaped you visibly. You were aware of it trickling upward as the handsome man smiled shyly and introduced himself.

“I’m James.”

Leaning up against a white banister, you snuggled further into your shawl, watching him. He was a few steps above you, and taller by a lot anyways, so it posed a bit of a strain.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lovely name,” James commented, not missing a beat. It surprised you, but you rallied easily.

“And yours.” You sipped your drink, and when he hadn’t formed a response, decided to elaborate. “Classic.”

James ducked his head in a dashing sort of way, adding a little humility to the lethal mix of attractive traits he contained.

“Yeah, but don’t let it take any precedence. It's strangeness across the board for the rest of me.”

Your lips curled up at the corners.

“For some reason I think that’s true,” you teased, eyes shining with mirth.

There were lots of ways to be flirted with, several of which left a bad taste in your mouth and a loneliness that felt unquenchable in your chest, but this you liked.

James spoke like he was on his toes, constantly steeped in anticipation. If possible, he seemed to savor every moment while simultaneously rushing into better, deeper territory.

He came further down the steps then, and you appreciated the relief on your neck. The smell that drifted off of him was like honey and biscuits, perpetually warm on your senses, even in late winter.

“So how do you know Marlene,” James asked, and you felt the tightness of excitement in your chest realizing that he was going to stay and talk to you.

“Work,” you told him, “she’s a madwoman. Flirts with all the customers.”

James kept a polite distance from you, gravitating toward a patch of light from the windows. He wore a tailored suit that was primarily night blue, which somehow fit him with both strict lines and a charming rumpled messiness.

You wondered if he’d get any easier to look at.

“That sounds like Marly,” James agreed, looking fond. A tiny needle of jealousy pricked you, which was ridiculous, because if this were Marlene’s boyfriend she’d have been shouting it from the rooftops.

Clinging to that affirmation, you asked, “you two are familiar?”

Each of James’ hands held the opposite bicep in a half-hearted cross, aiding a small shrug.

“We went to school together.”

You nodded, growing envious for new reasons.

“That seems to be the theme around here. I’m sad I missed it.”

James smiled warmly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Would it make you feel better if I told you it was boarding school? We had to share dorms all year.”

Fiddling with a ring on your finger, your gaze skipped to the square orange portal that led to the party inside. The window was one on the back wall of the parlor, and it became devastatingly easy to pick out the school club from the others inside. Marlene lounged beside other sharp girls and well-dressed guys, all of them laughing and bickering like siblings. You craved to be at the heart of it more than anything.

“Co-Ed?” you asked abruptly, tearing away from the vibrant crowd to see James’ face contort.

“No,” he laughed. “I roomed with Sirius, Remus and Frank.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Four to a room?”

James’ laugh thickened, his spectacles glinting white as his head tossed back. His amusement was acerbic, corrupting your bewilderment until it was lost to a goofy smile.

“I do feel much better, thank you,” you said. “Private school sounds awful.”

“Well, don’t rub it in, now,” he chided lightly.

An army of wind marched around the corner of the estate then, fighting through your thin shawl. James’ eyes traced your shivering frame as he stepped ever closer.

“Erm, hey, I was wondering—”

The patio door opened, delicate glass inlaid with iron, and yet your moment with James seemed the thing to shatter. A fair-skinned man stepped out, a hunt in his eyes, and you hoped whatever it was for wasn’t James.

Nyx-dark hair moved like shadows over the night sky, reflecting the party inside glossily. His head turned, and then he was laying eyes on your companion.

“James!” The man said, his poised effect splitting down the middle, revealing a collie’s energy. He motioned for James to meet him up on the landing. “C’mon mate, Remus has a plan.”

James shook his head simply.

“Do it without me, yeah?”

Something territorial swept over James’ friend’s face, and he suddenly looked you over. You were embarrassed to only warrant a millisecond of his attention.

“Bollucks,” he declared, challenging James to disagree. “Let’s go.”

Then he returned swiftly inside, leaving both French doors and your chest swung open. James sighed, the weight of a lost battle on his shoulders, and found your eyes again.

“Sorry, that’s Sirius,” he explained, and you supposed that would make sense.

“The roommate,” you provided. James nodded.

“I swear he’s nicer.”

You wouldn’t say you found him rude, just unfriendly. He certainly seemed warm, as did everyone at the party, but to a select few people. A select few that didn’t include you.

You said, “I’m sure.” If James thought someone was nice, they probably were. He seemed a good judge of character. Unless you had very poorly judged his character, which you wouldn’t put past yourself.

James winced. “I have to go. But, um—”

“James, mate, come on,” Sirius called from inside, and then he and another, taller man poked their heads out to check his progress in detaching himself from you.

“Alright, one second!”

You’re not sure why you said it, perhaps the people pleaser overriding your system, but you said, “it’s alright, James. You can go.”

It didn’t make him look any less torn. His head whipped back and forth between you and his friends, trying to find a solution.

Of course you wanted him to stay, but you didn’t want to hold him hostage, so you tried your best to look supportive of whatever he chose.

In the end, he stepped close to you, brows pinched with regret.

“I won’t be long. Will you—would you stay?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight smile, choking back the clawing barrage of disappointment.

“‘Course,” you said.

James blew out a breath, relaxing his tense posture.

“I really swear it. Back before you can say ‘private school,’ yeah?”

You laughed weakly, taking a long look at him for memory.

“Yeah.”

Reluctantly, James backed away from you, then turned to climb the steps toward his friends. They were sagged with impatience, hanging onto his every step the same way you were, except for different reasons. In a way, you were more jealous of these two than you were of Marlene, because they were like James’ brothers. They knew him better than probably anyone, you guessed.

James hopped up onto the landing and glanced back to you, frowning slightly. The light from inside caught his lenses just so, hiding his eyes from you, and that small detail alone felt like the end of all things.

Then, Sirius and his accomplice took each of James’ arms and hauled him inside, shutting the doors behind them.

Shivering again, you watched the three of them appear in the window, heads bowed together in conspiracy. James looked different there, like something out of a movie. He snapped right into place with the rest of them, glittering and masterfully made.

It was clear he had a world of his own—one that you would likely never penetrate, no matter how badly you wanted for it, no matter how long you waited in the cold.

Marlene would forgive you for running off, but you’d never forgive yourself if you got sick for a silly dream, so you left the party and made peace with the what-if that was James.

+

James fell headfirst out of the cramped coat closet, cursing as his legs tangoed and lost to a tall pair of rain boots. In his fall, he took down with him three raincoats and a hanging organizer (six hats, a bucket of gloves, and five and half pairs of sandals).

He was already tired and fuming when he entered the closet, and now he felt he’d completely lose it any second. Disengaging from his fight with evil clothing, he scooched on his bum to the scrunched up hall runner that paved the Mckinnon’s entry.

Near the end of it someone cleared their throat, and James looked up to see Fabian and Gideon Prewett, the nosiest blokes in the world. Fantastic.

“Look who we have here,” said one twin, the other smiling wickedly, ready to pick up the second half of their routine snooping.

“Off for a snog-sesh with someone, are we, James?”

Battling to his feet, James let out a long-suffering sigh, already moving their way.

“Yeah, your mum,” he snarked.

As they both laughed, James prepared to push between them, but they parted before he had to. He walked through their flank, relieved yet nervous—the typical reaction those two elicited.

Leaving them behind, the narrow hall forked off into several different rooms, offices and kitchens and a library. James played here even before he was in school with Marlene, so he knew every corner like it was his own home. He headed for the parlor.

Even for someone who had never been in the house, finding James’ destination would be easy. All they had to do was follow the music.

In the parlor, chaise lounges were hardly visible under old school friends and their families, the walls lined with business partners and gossiping aunts. Smaller children ran amok, like birds weaving between a forest of mingling adults. The hearthfire hissed and spat, bound to take down at least one fashionably dressed lady before the year was over.

James swept his gaze over the bobbing heads and flying hands, looking for someone in particular. Sirius’ thick black hair beat like a raven's wing near the back of the room, so that’s where the bespectacled boy went.

On his path, Remus stood glued to a wall, looking very antisocial. He pinged from one crutch to another, taking up new residence at James’ side.

“Where’d you run off to?”

“Had to take a piss,” James said casually. He’d grown accustomed to small lies like that, since no one knew about his little habit.

Remus didn’t question it, just picked through the crowd to where Sirius was.

“Padfoot,” James called, and he didn’t have to say anything else. Sirius excused himself and met the two of them without question, a silent understanding that forged the undercurrent of their friendship.

James led them all into another hall, one closer to the crystalline patio doors.

“I heard,” James started, “that Marlene has a pot stash somewhere ‘round here.”

Sirius and Remus glanced at each other, and James knew he had them. Even if they came up dry, the two of them would snoop just to snoop, and Remus obviously wanted away from the party anyways.

“Whereabouts do you think it is,” Sirius asked, looking at a mounted painting like it might be involved.

“Dunno,” James said, “but if we split up I bet we’d find it before the new year.”

Sirius grinned, and it spread onto Remus’ lips.

“I can take downstairs, and you and Pads can go up,” Remus said.

James shook his head.

“No, you two can go.” The two of them gave James skeptical looks, but he shrugged. “I have heavy footsteps, they’d hear me up there.”

Sirius’ expression cleared, and then he was nodding along. “Right.” He took Remus’ arm in his grasp and pulled him along. “Let’s go, Moony. I bet we can find some before Prongs.”

James heard Remus object that, “it’s only in one place,” before their conversation was lost by distance. Then, he turned around and pushed through the back doors, praying you were where he left you.

You were. Just like last time, your back was turned to him. You were staring at the clear sky, gripping your wrap close to your chest. James remembered that he’d startled you before, so he latched the doors as noisily as possible. You still didn’t come around.

He supposed that was for the best, actually, since he’d changed something already. He crept down the steps, feeling terrible for sneaking up on you, and wondering what you might’ve been thinking about that kept you so distracted.

“Pardon me,” James begged, and you spun around in shock.

“God, you startled me!”

James smiled, and your eyes trailed all over him. He couldn’t say he minded, since he was doing the same.

You reminded him of a mouse—shy but necessarily bold, holding yourself up outstandingly well as a stranger in a roomful of friends. That was, until you dipped outside and didn’t return.

“Sorry, hi,” he apologized, really meaning it this time. As expected, you smiled shyly, golden champagne tilting in the glass you held.

“Hi.”

A swath of mist escaped your mouth with the exhaled greeting. James had to remind himself that you didn’t remember the first time this happened, so you wouldn’t know his name.

“I’m James.”

You leant back, neck craning to keep his eyes. James stepped down to accommodate you, and your brows smoothed.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“That’s a pretty name,” James said, getting bolder. It was hard to hold himself away from you.

You dropped your head then, smiling primly at the stone steps.

“Thank you,” you said, instead of complimenting James in return.

James blinked. What happened?

“Yours—”

“I’m—”

James paused as you both spoke at the same time, looking at you the way someone might look at a tricky puzzle.

“Sorr—”

“You can—oh.”

Fingers pressed to your mouth, you looked at James, a tentative smile in your eyes. James sighed, and then laughed strangely. He motioned for you to go ahead, only to find your hand unfolding into the same gesture. Both of you stared at each other for a beat before falling into a fit of giggles.

“You go,” James said finally, smiling. You just shook your head.

“I don’t even remember.”

James squinted at your rosy cheeks, his lips picking up at the corners. You could lead a horse to water, he supposed.

The temptation to learn more about you began to win him over, so he bent a few rules.

“So you work with Marlene, I hear,” he spoke, fibbing ever so slightly.

You smiled a bit, none the wiser. “I do, yeah.”

James looked inside, checking for dark hair or an itchy sweater, but Remus and Sirius were still missing. Good.

“What’s that like?”

Brows furrowing, you followed his gaze.

“It’s…interesting. She’s really nice, but she—”

“Flirts with all the customers?” James supplied, peeking at you out of the corner of his eye.

You stared at him for a tick. “Yeah. You must know her?”

“Childhood friends,” James decided, nodding. When he turned back to you, you were raking your eyes over his dressy outfit, lip caught between your teeth. Your eyes found his, and you looked away. James thought he saw a flush to your cheeks.

The wind whipped around the corner then, and James began shouldering his thick jacket off, finally doing what he’d wanted to do before.

“You must be crazy,” he said, coming closer. “It’s freezing out here.”

You braved a look at him, and alarm sunk into your features.

“No, James, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“Don’t be polite, lovely, you’re shivering. Here.”

James slowly held his coat over your shoulders, leaning back to watch you carefully. He saw the moment you accepted his offer, sinking back into the warmth the garment still held.

“Thank you,” you breathed as James pulled away. He shoved his cold hands into his pockets, now looking to conserve heat.

“‘Course.”

Though his hands weren’t on you anymore, James stayed just as close as he was moments ago. He could smell the champagne in your glass. He glanced around to the garden, to your feet on the step, just below his.

“D’you want to head inside?” he asked. “It’s almost midnight, I think.”

Your lips turned up, and James hoped to God he’d get to kiss them.

“That sounds lovely.”

+

James flipped his phone open, the small screen giving off just enough light in his dark room to make him squint. He was wondering what you’d put for your contact—a smiley face, maybe, or a heart? He hoped you put a heart. It took his brain far too long to catch up to reality.

With a shock of gut-twisting dread, James realized he’d been so wound up over kissing you that he forgot to ask for your phone number. Your phone number.

He groaned, glancing at his bed longingly, but he knew he wouldn’t fall into it very soon. He’d go back a hundred times before he slept that night if it got him one date with you.

thank you for reading! xx | masterlist

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[sleepyspudbrainrot]

Indulge Me

Roman Reigns x Lale (OC) | 18+, NSFW, smut, fluff | 1908 words

This is absolutely part of Carry You Home, but not Pt. 3 if that makes sense? It's a scene that will absolutely happen in the fic, but down the road... but I was in the mood to write it tonight so here we are?

You can blame one of my friends for picking the prompt for me ~ Enjoy this attempt at smut! I'm a bit rusty...

“How is it you always know what I need, huh?”

A hand wrapped around Lale’s throat, eyes fluttering as Joe took steps towards her.  Each step brought them closer to one another, and then far once more, until she was met by the wall at her back.  A soft gasp escapes her, his grasp around her throat tightening.  His face lowers to meet hers, lips brushing gently across hers.  Once, twice, and by the third time, his lips are pressed to hers in an attempt to claim them. ”Joe…” A soft murmur, her head meeting the door behind her as she struggles to focus.  ”The door… neighbors…” A large hand encompasses hers, guiding it over to the lock behind her and allowing her to lock it before pressing closer once more.  ”They’ll have to wait…”  The only neighbors she could think of would be the twins.  And somehow, she knew, they’d know exactly what was going on tonight.  They’d seen the way she’d looked after Joe after the nights events.  The way she’d bit her lip as he’d brushed closer to her in the gorilla.  But for it all to lead to this?

His lips left hers, brushing along her jawline, down to her neck.  Teeth grazing at the sensitive skin just underneath her jawline.  Another soft gasp escapes her, hands tightening in the loose fabric of the shirt he’d thrown on in the locker room.  It still smelled like sweat and the ring, scents that were wrapped up in the scent of him. He buried his face in her neck and collarbone, leaning against her, his body a welcome pressure even as she found herself pinned to the wall.  “Fuck Lale…”  They’d done so little and he seemed to be struggling to control himself.  Even now, she could feel the way his length pressed into her hip bone, with a little adjusting… 

She shifted as much as she could given the presence of his body, allowing his hips to meet hers.  Two pieces of a puzzle, a piece of him that was made for her, at least she could hope that.  She groaned softly and reached up to tangle her hands in his hair.  Her nails met scalp and a soft his escaped him as his teeth sunk into the spot between her neck and collarbone.  “Joe…” His name fell from her lips in reverence, her grip in his hair tightening as his lips trailed lower.  To the collar of her shirt, his hand sliding up from the bottom.  Rough callouses against smooth skin, the fabric of her shirt lifting as he explored further and further upward.  

“This night is supposed to be about you ya know…”

Her hand comes to rest on his wrist, stopping his journey upwards.  He pulls away from her collarbone, an eyebrow raised. “And if I wanted to indulge myself in you ma?”  Indulge himself in her… One hand remained on his wrist, the other reaching up to cup his cheekbone.  A tender gesture that was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between them.  

“Let me indulge you instead?”

She’d stepped away from the wall now.  Using Joe’s momentary confusion to push him towards the center of the room.  It was easy to sink to her knees in front of him.  Her hands trailing down his chest and down the length that she could feel straining against his pants.  “May I?” Joe merely nodded, swallowing visibly as she tucked her fingers into his waistband.  Inch by inch until the gym shorts were pooled around his ankles.  His cock was standing at attention, even longer than she’d anticipated.  Her hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking slowly, watching his face shift through her eyelashes.  His eyes closed, his lips pursed, his hands at his sides. 

“Lale…”

She paused in her stroking, tilting her head. “Yes Joe?” Her words came out in a low sultry murmur. 

“You look so damn beautiful on your knees for me mama..”

The reverence returned to her ten fold, sending her heart stuttering and even more heat pooling at her core.  She couldn’t speak, she had to focus on the cock in front of her.  No matter how beautiful he thought of her, she knew that this was her time, her chance to take care of his needs.  She leaned forward with a soft smile, her tongue darting out to lap at the precum that had beaded at the tip.  A hiss escaped the man above her, his hands reaching out to cup her head.  “Easy now…”  A teasing laugh before she took the tip into her mouth.  Her tongue swirled around, a teasing gesture that was paired with a few more languid strokes along his shaft.  She had to ease into this, to make sure that she wasn’t going to take on too much.  She wasn’t sure if she could take all of him, but she was going to try.

Inch by inch she drew more of him into her mouth, cheeks hollowing out as her tongue wrapped around more and more of his shaft.  A low groan vibrated through Joe, his hands tangling in Lale’s hair that hung wildly around her face. She hummed softly, letting the vibrations carry as she began to bob her head up and down.  Slowly at first, pairing it with similarly paced strokes.  His hips twitched and it was very clear that Joe was holding himself back … for her.

That only served to encourage her to go faster.  Her cheeks hollowed out, her lips a vice grip around him as her head bobbed up and down.  Closer and closer to the edge, she wanted him to lose control.  To allow himself to lose himself in her, and to indulge her in the care she was willing to give. And give in he did. His hands clasped her head, hips bucking up to meet her on each stroke.  He hit the back of her throat over and over again.  Her eyes began to water, her groans adding more vibrations that only served to encourage his wildness further.

“Lale.. I’m close…”

She met his gaze through her eyelashes. 

“Are you sure?”

If she’d been in a place to do so, she would’ve nodded.  He seemed to understand the yes, his movement quickening now.  Each thrust more erratic than the last, his fingers tangled in her hair, until her face was pressed to his skin, his cock throbbing as he found release.  She could feel the thick liquid pumping into her throat, the warmth in her core only encouraged by the pleasure she’d been able to bring the man above her.  Once he’d finished, he pulled her head away from himself, a hand curling around her chin.  He drew her up to his level, his thumb wiping away at the drool that had coated her chin.  

“How on earth do you look even more beautiful now?”  

Joe’s thumb rubbed circles against her cheek.  “Now let me indulge myself… please?”

Lale fell back against the bed, Joe standing over her with a look on his face that she could only describe as feral.  He’d discarded of his shorts, leaving his cock out and still erect despite her draining him only moments before.  It was his turn to get on his knees for her, kneeling at the foot of the bed.  His hands grabbed at her hips, drawing her closer to the edge and pushing her legs apart.  “We’ve really got to do something about these…”  Her panties exposed, her skirt doing little to hide the wet spot that had been slowly growing since they’d gotten back to the hotel. His finger trailed downward, hooking around the edge of the fabric and pushing it to the side.  

“So wet for me ma…” His nose brushed against her lips, before his tongue flicked at her clit.  The sensation was sudden, pulling a moan from deep within her.  Her back arching, legs twitching with the urge to close around Joe’s head.  “Easy now ma…”  Another languid drag of his tongue, this time focusing less on just her clit, and more on consuming her.  Darting inside of her, then out, swirling patterns that had her moaning over and over again.  His fingers slid inside her at some point, one at a time til he’d gotten three inside of her, his tongue drawing her closer and closer to the edge with each deft stroke.  

“Joe god… fuck that feels…”

She cried out as he sucked on her clit, the change in sensation almost sending her tumbling into an orgasm.  But then he pulled away, grinning up at her, her slick coating the strands of his beard.  “You think I was going to let you go that easily? I want to feel you come apart around me mama.”  He stood now, padding away from the edge of the bed to grab a condom from his suitcase.  He rolled it over his cock as he returned to the bed.  It was easy for him to lean over and pull her close, her legs against his chest as his cock teased at her entrance.

“You ready?”

Lale could only nod, her teeth worrying her lower lip as he pushed into her entrance.  Even with the preparation, the size was enough to sting as he stretched her out.  Inch by inch, easing into the discomfort, she couldn’t help but watch him as he did so.  Her discomfort quickly shifted to pleasure, to admiration and reverence, as she observed the way he looked at her.  It was as if she was something precious, something that he wanted to take care of, whether it be physically or…

No she couldn’t think of that now.

Especially as Joe was now sheathed within her.  His hips pressed to hers.  Without warning he snapped back, the thrusts starting slow, but increasing in intensity with each one.  Each thrust brought her back to that edge she’d nearly hit with his tongue earlier.  She groaned, eyes rolling back into her head as he leaned over her, one hand holding himself up on the bed, the other moving to thread his fingers with hers.  

“Come for me?”

A question that she was all too eager to answer.  She tightened around him with a cry, her back arching and her legs shaking with each continued thrust.  At some point, the pulsing from within her became to much for him as well, and for the second time that night he came apart as well.  His chest rose and fell as he slid out of her, the condom tossed in the vague direction of the trash can across the room, before he joined her on the bed. 

“We should probably get you cleaned up…” Joe murmured softly, brushing her hair away from her face.  Lale laughed softly, reaching out to cup his cheek with one hand.  “Only if you come clean me up?” Her laughter carried through her words, the teasing clear as she remained curled on her side.  “That’s if I can move… I’m comfortable.”  A yawn escapes her, leaving Joe to laugh with a shake of his head.  “It can wait… for now, come here.”  He pulled her close, moving to lay on his back and allow her to settle against his chest.  He pulled a blanket over the pair, stroking Lale’s hair until she fell asleep.  Once she was settled and asleep, it wasn’t long before he too had fallen asleep.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: More miscommunication makes the situation between Tommy and Lucy go from bad to worse.

Word Count: 7,074

Warnings: Angst, insecurity, violence, suicidal thoughts, PTSD, nightmares, minor character death, and references to past torture and sexual assault.

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Chapter 14: Good Intentions

She woke up with a tortured scream, half flying upwards out of bed, kicking and scrambling. The covers got all twisted around her, half pinning her legs, and that only fed the panic coursing through her. It wasn’t until Asher jumped to his feet and shoved his big head into her face that she fully processed where she was and what was happening. 

Breaths heaving, she looked around the room, taking in the familiar furniture and decor. Asher poked at her chest with his cold nose with a small whine. Trouble meowed. 

Drawing in ragged breaths, Lucy closed her eyes, focusing on filling her lungs with air. It was okay. She was alright. She wasn’t in that alley anymore while Matthew and his friends descended upon her. Or dangling from the ceiling while Luca Changretta carved into her. She was safe. 

Nightmares had always been a common occurrence for her. But they’d been getting worse lately. More frequent and somehow even more vivid and frightful than they’d been before. On the rare occasion that she actually did manage to fall asleep in her room at the yard, Charlie often had to come in at some point in the middle of the night to gently shake her awake because she’d started screaming in her sleep. 

Wiping at her forehead, she winced to find that it was drenched with sweat. Giving Asher and Trouble a few pets, she then forced herself up, heading to the washroom to splash some cold water on her face. For a moment, her eyes lingered on the bathtub, swallowing down the lump in her throat at the memories of the last time she’d bathed in it with Tommy. 

She got cleaned up and dressed in a slight daze. Her head felt all fuzzy from both her nightmare and spending a large chunk of the night sobbing into her blankets. The very beginning of a headache was starting to throb at her temples.  

It was so early in the morning that the sun was only just starting to settle up in the sky. So it did not surprise her that she was one of the first people down for breakfast. Asher remained at her side, watchful. Every once in a while, his ears twitched. 

She found Arthur at the window, leaning so close to it that his nose nearly touched the glass. 

“Arthur?” she was still adjusting the cuffs of her shirt while she approached him. Looking around the room, she craned her head to peer through the doorway leading into the dining room. She caught sight of Frances and a couple of maids bustling about in there, working quickly to try to clean up the broken glass before breakfast was to be served. “Where’s Linda?”

Arthur’s shoulders shuddered, a fist rising to his mouth. Lucy watched the reaction sadly. He had not treated Linda well, and she could not entirely blame her for leaving, but it still saddened her to see him so distraught. Tentatively she rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing once in sympathy. 

“Come on. Let’s go get some food,” she tried to encourage, pulling him towards the dining room. 

“No,” Arthur stepped away from her. “I think…I think I’m just going to go.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“Okay,” Lucy gave him a tight hug. He felt very skinny, almost frail, in her arms. “I’ll see you later.”

He shuffled away with only a small murmur of acknowledgement. She watched him go, hands buried in her pockets with a frown painted on her features.  

“Miss. Winters.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Her jaw tightened at the voice. Asher’s hackles rose slightly, but a hand on the base of his neck had him quieting, though not without a small growl rumbling in his chest first. “Good morning, Mr. Mosley.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Breakfast is being served in the dining room,” she gestured, hoping that he would leave her alone. 

No such luck, it would seem, as he leaned in closer to her, looking around theatrically. “No Mr. Shelby?”

“He’s probably still in bed. It’s quite early.” Though not for Tommy, who was often up at the crack of dawn. But she wasn’t about to tell Mosley that.

“Mm. Interesting, isn’t it? What relentless lengths he has gone to in order to establish his claim over his wife,” Mosley chuckled. That slow smile twisted the bottom half of his face when he looked at her. “And yet, this is the third time in less than a day that he’s left you alone.…” he reached out a hand that she jerked her face away from, an action he seemed to take complete delight in. “Ripe for the picking.”

Bile rose up in the back of her throat. “Mr. Mosley…”

“I’m glad, however. There’s something that I wanted to speak to you about.” He kept trying to crowd into her space, and while Asher sitting between them helped buffer him a little, he was still far too close for her liking. “As I’ve already mentioned to Mr. Shelby, your affair with him…it has the potential to cause issues should it ever come to light.”

Lucy gulped. “We’re being careful…”

“A single woman, employed by a man who she is known throughout Birmingham to have had a relationship with during at least one stretch of time while she was working for him…that has the potential to insight quite the amount of gossip. Don’t you think?”

“If it’s gossip you’re worried about, Mr. Mosley, I suggest that you turn your attention to your own affairs. I’m sure many people would have lots to say about your very close relationship with most of your wife’s female relatives.”

Briefly, the mask of amusement he kept across his face faltered, replaced instead by a flicker of annoyance and something far darker. Beside her, Asher growled again. Lucy tightened her grip on his lead. But Mosley seemed to pay no mind to the dog, taking a step closer to her.

“I have spoken to Thomas, and we have concluded that the best way to handle your particular situation is through two potential avenues. Either you leave his employment, or you find a husband.” That shark-like smile was suddenly back in place. “I already have several potential candidates in mind.”

Lucy felt as though she’d just been punched in the stomach. Her lungs constricted painfully. Her stomach heaved. She had to ball her hands up into fists to hide the slight way that they started to tremor. 

“Tommy agreed to that?” she asked, her voice coming out sounding very small. Mosley’s smile widened. 

“He said that he would consider it.”

The next breath that she managed to draw into her lungs was shaky. Quickly, she looked away, feeling the burn of tears starting to build up in the back of her throat. 

“You have a say, of course. But I think we both know that you’ll do whatever it is that he decides for you.”

Her jaw tightened at the implication. “He knows how I feel about marriage.” Only half true. He knew how she had once felt about marriage. But he did not know that her feelings on the subject had softened with time. At least when it came to the idea of being married to him.

Mr. Mosley tilted his head. “Then…I wish you the best of luck in finding employment in the future. It may be hard, with your reputation for fucking your employer.” His eyes darted over her shoulder into the dining room. “Oh! Would you look at that? Breakfast.” And with a sleazy smile, he stepped around her and walked away, as if he had not just potentially brought what little remained of her world crashing down around her ears. 

Tommy…had agreed to consider getting rid of her. Seemingly without even putting up a fight on her behalf.

Again.

Lucy stood there, staring straight ahead, so shocked and heartbroken that she couldn’t even move. 

Was this not the ultimate confirmation that everything she had been thinking was true? If he was willing to send her away, or push her into marriage with another man, did that not indicate in absolute certainty that he no longer wanted her?

Forget about want. He didn’t even love her anymore.

“Miss. Winters?” It was Frances’s soft voice that drew her out of her trance, finding that the housekeeper had come up right beside her. “Are you staying for breakfast?” She thought that she might’ve detected a trace of hope in Frances’s eyes. 

Lucy stared at her, then looked over her shoulder to where those who had spent the night at the house were beginning to gather to eat. 

“No,” her voice came out weak and hoarse. She had to clear her throat before trying again. “No. Actually, could you have a car and driver brought around for me?”

“Now?” Frances’s voice filled with dismay.  

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to wait for Mr. Shelby–?”

“No. I think it’s better if I just slip away this morning. In fact, tell Mr. Shelby that I’d rather he not bother me for a little while. Unless there’s something urgent that needs to be done for work.”

Frances hesitated. “He’ll want to see you…”

Lucy shot her a sad, understanding smile. It was sweet of her to try to make it sound like Tommy still cared for her. “No, he won’t.” With Frances following her, she went to the entryway, slipping on her coat and pulling on her gloves. “Let him know that Linda’s left Arthur. Maybe this time for good.”

Frances nodded, though her expression was troubled. “Yes, Miss. Winters. Car will be around in a moment.”

“Thank you.” She flexed her fingers back and forth, eager to be out of the house soon. It echoed with too many memories and residual feelings. The paintings watched her when she moved, and she could hear voices in the walls, see ghosts walking in the rooms. All of a past life. A life she once had here. 

A life that was gone. 

It took only a few minutes for the driver to come around with the car. She was gone before Tommy even set foot outside his room. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Frances, where’s Lucy?” Tommy asked as soon as he’d descended the stairs. He’d gone to her room as soon as he was up and dressed, eager to tell her about the compromise he’d worked out with Lizzie. She could stay here. At home. With him. And he would make sure that she never felt like she needed to leave ever again.

But she hadn’t been in her room. So he’d headed downstairs, assuming that she’d already gone down for breakfast. 

Frances looked away, shifting from foot to foot. “She left, sir.”

He froze. “She what?”

“She was up early this morning. She spoke with Arthur and Mr. Mosley, and then she requested a car and driver to take her back to Mr. Strong’s.” She fumbled with her hands. “I tried to stop her, but…she was insistent.”

Tommy blinked, processing. “Did she say anything before she left?”

Again, Frances hesitated. “She said…to tell you that Linda has left Arthur. Maybe this time for good. And…” she paused, biting her lip. Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“She said that she doesn’t want to be bothered. Not unless it’s something urgent related to work. At least for a little while.”

Tommy stared at her, not fully understanding. 

What did I do wrong now?

He was more than aware that last night could have gone better on a whole array of accounts, but he didn’t think that he’d done anything that terrible to cause her to want nothing to do with him at all. 

“Did…did she say why?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.” Frances’s eyes were sympathetic.

He sighed heavily, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking out the window. “Alright, thank you.”

“Mr. Mosley was just getting ready to leave.”

“Right.”

He went with her to the entryway to say his goodbyes, and watched from the window as Mosley got into his car and finally drove away. Relief washed over him potently, a little of the tension going out in his shoulders.

Even after Mosley was long gone, he stayed standing there, frowning as he gazed out towards the road that led up to the front of the house.

Why was she so earnestly running away from him? Was that what she wanted? Space between them? Separation? His chest burned agonizingly at the thought. 

He was aware of Frances hovering by the door, watching over him with worry in her eyes. Tommy pinched at his brow. God, it wasn’t even nine o’clock in the morning and he already needed a fucking whisky.

“Where’s Arthur?”

“He left not long before Miss. Winters did.” 

For fuck’s sake, could people please just stay in place for once? What was with everyone scattering all of a sudden?

“Alright, thank you, Frances.”

She nodded, but paused before heading to the door like she usually did. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He gave her a shake of his head, not needing to ask what she was referring to. “Don’t have anyone to blame but myself.” Looking back out of the window, he thumbed at his brow, wetting his lips and drawing in a shaky breath. 

He could get into the car and go to her. Find her amongst the horses in the stables at the yard and tell her that he’d done it. He’d fixed things, like he promised. She could come back home, with no worry over breaking Lizzie’s rules or inciting conflicts. Things could go back to the way that they were. 

But he hesitated. She was upset with him. As she had every right to be, about all sorts of things. And she clearly didn’t want to be around him. As evidenced by her asking Frances to tell him to leave her alone. 

He would respect her wishes, he decided. Even though it killed him a little to not immediately seize the opportunity to bring her back home. The last thing he wanted to do was further upset her by stomping on her boundaries. And she couldn’t avoid him forever. They would have to interact for work eventually. He’d tell her about it then. 

And, perhaps, he was a little frustrated with her. She kept pulling away from him. Every time that he tried to reach out, without fail. A switch had turned within her since he told her of the deal he’d struck with Lizzie. He’d been locked out of her mind, with no combination to get back in. And it was driving him mad not knowing what she was thinking. Each time that she rejected him, it hurt a little more. He didn’t know how much more of it he could take.   

Would getting her exempted from Lizzie’s rules be enough, or had he already so irrevocably broken things that they could no longer be fixed?

∗ ∗ ∗

“I can’t believe him,” she whispered, sitting with her knees tucked beneath her, a cup of tea held in one hand. 

“It might not be exactly what you think it is,” Charlie tried to reassure her gently. Lucy sighed. 

“Yeah, maybe.” But her tone was not convinced.

“You’re really going to trust anything that comes out of that fascist prick’s mouth?” He shook his head. “Talk to Tom first, before you start getting too upset about it. I sincerely doubt that he’d ever even consider sacking you. Or marrying you off to someone else.”

“He did it to John,” she pointed out. 

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

Charlie cast her a baffled look. “Of course it was. He loves you. He’d rather saw off a limb than let someone else marry you.”

Setting down her mug on the table between them, she stood, walking forward a few paces with her hands jammed into her pockets to stare out over the canal. She could feel Charlie still watching her from his seat. 

“Why? It’s not like he’s ever going to marry me.” She couldn’t help the slight way that her voice caught on the words.

“Do you ever regret not marrying him when you had the chance?” Charlie asked. Lucy sighed. It certainly would have solved a whole hell of a lot of their problems. If she’d just managed to get over herself and do it.

No point thinking about any of it now. It wasn’t like she would ever get the chance, anyway. 

“Yes,” she answered in a soft whisper.

“You should tell him that.”

The wind pulled a little on her hair, stinging where it whipped across her cheeks. “It wouldn’t do anyone any good.”

“You don’t know that.”

Looking back out over the canal, at its tempting rushing waters, she felt herself slip, then drop a little further down into the well of despair she was already lost deep, deep within. 

“Yes, I do.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy was only half paying attention to the conversation between Tommy and Ben, too busy working tirelessly over finishing up reports from her spot seated at the round table in the middle of Tommy’s office. 

The days following the ballet had been rough. Arthur was an absolute mess after Linda left, and Michael was clearly still up to something, though she’d had limited time or ability to figure out what exactly that was. Tommy had respected her request that he leave her alone for a while. This was the first time they’d seen each other since the party. When she’d come in, he and Ben were already talking, so she’d just sat down and started in on her work. 

“Younger,” Tommy called as the man stood to leave. “Please don’t listen to my sister’s opinions of me. They are always hopeful. Therefore they are always wrong.”

She shot a smile to Ben when he passed her on his way out the door, the door closing heavily behind him. Tommy stood from his chair, cigarette in hand.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to come in today,” he commented after a moment. She glanced up briefly from her stack of papers, then looked back down again, unsure what to even say to him.

His shoes thumped against the floor as he made his way over to glance out the window. He turned back to look at her. Coughed and glanced down at his shoes. “I miss you.”

She looked back up at him, frowning. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Tommy…” she leaned back in her chair, pressing her fingers to her temple in an attempt to stave off an oncoming headache. “I…” she looked away at the bookshelves in the corner. She sucked in a deep breath, reminding herself to be strong. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“It’s better this way.”

“Better for who?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about your fucking wife, Tommy? Your kids, who don’t have to live in a house where their parents are having screaming matches every night!?” she stood up from the table, striding towards him, suddenly furious. 

“So what? We’re not allowed to be happy? We have to spend the rest of our lives being miserable?” Tommy argued back, voice raising.

“Yeah, well you seem to be doing just fine to me,” she spat out bitterly.

“What the fuck does that mean!?”

“Nothing,” her voice softened as she turned away sharply.

“Hey!” He grabbed her by the arm, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to hold her in place and force her to remain facing him. “You’re the one who left!”

“And you’re the one who made that deal with Lizzie in the first place without even thinking of me!”  

“Which I fucking fixed! Which you would know about, if you would stop dodging all my attempts to talk to you.”

She froze, brows pulling together. “What do you mean, you fixed it?”

Tommy drew in a ragged breath, voice lowering from the raised pitch it had been in a moment ago. “I worked out a compromise with her. The new rules still apply to anyone else, but not to you.” He reached out to touch her cheek, but she pulled her face away, searching his eyes, not even sure what exactly she was looking for. He sighed and dropped his hand. “You can come back home. Things can go back to the way that they were.”

She could have sworn that she saw a hopeful spark in those big blue orbs, but chalked it up to just wishful thinking. 

A part of her wanted to fall into his arms, let him whisk her away and back to Arrow House so they could return to carrying on like they had. But the rest of her, the part now in control, recoiled at the thought. 

“No,” she whispered, still staring at him, her lips parted and brows drawing inwards. Tommy jerked back as if she’d slapped him, eyes widening with such deep hurt she wondered if it would have wounded him less had she actually cut him.

“What? Why? The rules don’t apply to you anymore, love. We don’t have to worry about sleeping together under that roof, or any of that nonsense about me not being able to touch Ruby a day after–”

“This isn’t just about Lizzie’s rules, Tommy,” she shook her head back and forth furiously, voice rising again in hysterical frustration. He was so smart. The smartest person she knew. How could he not understand? Was he unaware of it? Or was he just toying with her; doing what he needed to keep her close, like he did with the likes of Lizzie, Jessie Eden…

Was it not enough that he’d already broken her heart? Did he really need to drag her back to the place where she was obviously so unwanted just to stomp on it some more? To…what? Assuage the guilt he felt for falling out of love with her? Or was it duty and responsibility that he felt he still carried for her that made him so insistent?

“Then what? What is it?” his eyes were imploring, both hands gripping at her upper arms. “Tell me,” he practically begged.

“I can’t go back. Not when I know she only changed the rules because you twisted her arm on it–”

“Actually, I didn’t really have to–”

“Just stop it, Tommy!” she snapped. “Just stop it! You don’t have to keep doing this. There’s no need to keep pretending, or feeling guilty, or whatever the fuck this actually is!”

“What the hell are you talking about!?” his voice rose alongside hers, frustration and bewilderment crackling across his face.

A sob heaved its way out of her lungs. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. I already understand, isn’t that enough!?”

“Understand what!?”

The question, combined with her continued downward spiral, only served to make her more angry. He didn’t love her anymore. They both knew it. Why was he so insistent that she say it? Did he not understand that, by making her actually speak aloud the truth that she’d come to believe since he’d chosen Lizzie over her, he risked destroying her completely? “You know exactly what!”

“No, I don’t! I can’t, when you won’t fucking talk to me!”

KA-BOOM!

Whatever response she would have come up with was interrupted by a thunderous boom and the spray of broken glass as the window behind Tommy blasted inwards. One moment she was standing in front of him and the next she was seized up in Tommy’s arms, sandwiched between the desk and his body as he curled around her in a protective shield. Her hands fisted with the lapels of his suit jacket, ears ringing and eyes squeezed closed.

For a moment, neither of them moved from their position scrunched down against his desk. Lucy blinked sluggishly, squinting at the broken window in an attempt to process just what the hell had happened. 

“Are you alright?” Tommy asked. When she didn’t respond he leaned off of her, hand on her face. “Lucy, hey, are you okay?”

She stared at him with wide eyes. Her hip ached a little from where he had slammed her into the desk, and her ears were still ringing, but other than that she seemed uninjured. “Y-yeah. Yes.” She reached out an unsteady hand to cup his face. “Are you?”

He nodded, straightening to take in the damage. Had it been under other circumstances, she would have been amused to notice that he had somehow managed to keep ahold of his cigarette in his right hand. “C’mon,” he took her tightly by the hand, guiding her swiftly out of the office and towards the front door. 

“What was it?” she asked, pulling her gun from its holster against her ribs when she noticed him taking out his. 

“Car bomb. I think. Ready?” He rested his hand on the doorknob. She nodded and he pushed it open. They filed out into the street, guns raised as they scanned the area around and above them for assailants. There was no one. Ben’s car that was parked just outside the office was in flames.  

“Check the car,” Tommy told her as he rushed towards the collapsed figures of three children who had been playing in the street. She jogged over to the burning vehicle, careful to keep away from the raging flames, and peered in. She could just barely make out a figure in the driver’s seat. Unmoving. The smell of burning flesh made her recoil. Tommy was shouting instructions to one of the women from the office who had ventured out to see what was going on. He helped haul two of the three dazed children to their feet and usher them inside. The third child, the one closest to the car, wasn’t moving, Tommy instead hefted the little boy up into his arms, the child’s limbs limp as a rag doll’s. Tommy sat down heavily on the curb with the boy’s body still cradled in his arms. Cautiously, Lucy approached him, holstering her gun and sitting beside him.

“Ben’s dead.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. She rested a comforting hand on his knee. 

“Lucy, listen–”

“Later,” she shook her head, eyes fixed on the boy’s dead body held tight against Tommy’s chest. The smell of the burning car was still fresh in her nostrils. “We’ll sort it all out later.”

“When?”

She didn’t have an answer for him, instead just squeezing the hand on his knee.

“When you left,” his voice was shaky, eyes staring at some point faraway, “you said that we could still be together.”

She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from sobbing. Instead she just leaned into his side, arm wrapping around his back while her head rested on his shoulder. His cheek immediately came to settle on the top of her head.

“I know,” she said, and closed her eyes. For a while they sat there, a question balancing on the tip of her tongue, trying to muster up the courage to ask it. “Are you going to send me away?”

Tommy looked over at her sharply. “What?”

“Mosley told me what you two were planning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He said that you are either to sack me or marry me off to one of his friends.”

Tommy let out a harsh breath, shoulders heaving. 

“Are you?”

“No. Of course not, sweetheart. I’d never send you away. I’d never let any of his people touch you.”

“He said that you were considering it.”

“That’s just what I told him to get him to stop badgering me about it.”

“He seemed pretty insistent.”

Tommy released another trembling sigh, eyes going to where Ben’s car was still burning. “I know. I’m working on it. Don’t worry. You’re not going anywhere.”

She nodded, suddenly feeling a little silly for having believed Mosley. Even after Charlie had tried to dissuade her from doing so. Next to her, she could feel Tommy’s eyes boring into the side of her head. He scooted a little closer to her. 

“That’s not all that this is about though, is it?”

She felt her brows pinch, considering if she should just ask him the other dreaded question. Maybe the answer wouldn’t really be what she expected it to be. 

She was just about to speak, when the police and ambulance arrived. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy stepped into his and Lucy’s London apartment, sweeping off his cap and shrugging out of his coat after closing and latching the door behind him.

The image of Ada, silver tears rolling down her cheeks when he told her of Ben Younger’s death, kept replaying in his head. The smell of burning rubber and flesh was still lodged in his nose, and he swore that he could still feel the weight of the dead ten year old boy in his arms.

Good intentions. That was all he’d had, and now a child and his sister’s lover were both dead.

If only he’d gone carrying on as he had. None of this would have happened. And he wasn’t just talking about his professional life. 

If he hadn’t tried to patch things up with Lizzie, if he had continued to allow her to wallow in her resentment and bitterness towards him without interference, he would not have lost the love of his life. 

He was unable to get the devastated look on Lucy’s face while she shouted at him before the bomb went off out of his head. Her refusal to return home burned, chewing away at his already fragmented heart. 

She no longer wanted him. It wouldn’t surprise him if she left for good soon. Every time he let her out of his sight, he wondered if it would be the last time that he would ever see her. 

Anyone you touch…

He closed his eyes against Ada’s words. They all really would be better off without him, wouldn’t they? They certainly would be a whole hell of a lot happier. 

Push the button. Unlock the door and come home to me.

He had. He had pushed the button so fucking fast, bracing for the rush of flames of a bomb igniting the entirety of his car. Disappointment crushed over him like a mountain falling upon his shoulders when the reprieve that he longed for did not come, the engine merely starting smoothly. 

Coughing softly into his fist, he went to the main bedroom, hesitating in the doorway when he found Lucy sitting up on her side of the bed, in one of her nightgowns but reading and marking up some documents by the light of the lamp on her nightstand. Sensing his presence, she looked up. 

“Hey,” she set aside her work. “How did it go?”

He wetted his lips. “She cried.”

Lucy nodded, expression grave, eyes observing him carefully. Tommy shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the space next to her in the bed. He wanted nothing more than to clamber in and lay his head on her. Let her hold him and stroke his hair and help melt away some of the agony he was in. But she did not want that anymore. Clearly, considering she’d refused his suggestion that she finally come home and they put this madness of separation behind them.  

He didn’t deserve that type of comfort, anyway. Certainly not from her, when he’d already put her through so much. He would no longer burden her with his problems. 

“Anyway,” he hefted in a deep breath, the awkwardness between them close to killing him. “I’ll go…sleep in the other room.”

Lucy frowned. “You don’t have to…”

“It’s fine,” he took a step back. “Goodnight.” He did not wait to hear her response, closing the door softly between them. He rested his hand longingly against the heavy wood separating them, throat spasming with the force in which he swallowed to try to keep himself from crying. 

I’m so sorry, my sweetheart. He wished that there was a way for him to convey to her the true depth in which he regretted ruining what they had. Slipping away to the second bedroom, he stripped out of everything save for his pants and climbed into the crisp white sheets, sprawling out on his back.  

It wasn’t that he was giving up, he just had no idea what more to do to try to mend things between them. Not when she wouldn’t even talk to him about what was really wrong. 

He would not be getting much sleep tonight, if any at all. He knew that already. So instead he resigned himself to staring up at the canopy, and allowing his miserable thoughts of self hatred and regret to consume him.  

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy stared at him blankly after he finished relaying the new plan for dealing with Mosley to her. Blinking slowly, she looked down at her hands, clasped in front of her on the table. Tommy shifted from foot to foot anxiously. He’d sat her down at the round table in the Birmingham office after they’d gotten in from attending the funeral of the boy who’d died in the explosion. They’d walked together down the street, following the carriage carrying the tiny coffin as the horses pulled it along. Lucy’s shoulder had brushed against his every few paces, as if in an attempt at comfort. 

He knew how what he had just told her probably looked, and wondered sorrowfully why he couldn’t seem to stop fucking things up when it came to her.

“Why him?” she asked, finally.

“He was the best sniper in our company.” When it came to this job, he wasn’t going to risk anything less than the best. 

“I could do it.”

He shook his head. “No.” It physically hurt him to look at the wounded expression that crossed her face. 

She probably thought that he was trying to replace her. Giving the job that had always been hers out to a man in a straightjacket. She ran a hand through her hair and leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at the floor. Tommy wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go. 

“Love, listen,” he said gently, sitting down in the chair beside her. “When this is over, there’s going to be a massive investigation. Heads will roll trying to figure out who was behind it. We can’t be linked to it.”

“I won’t get caught–”

“They will hunt you until you are, love. But this way, they’ll just attribute it to a madman who still thinks he’s in the middle of a war. There won’t even be a need for further investigation.”

She looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes. “I’m very annoyed that you’re making this make sense.”  

Tommy made a sound that could have been the beginning of a laugh. There she was. There was his girl that he had missed so much. He knew she was still in there somewhere. His hands cupped her cheeks, forehead pressing to hers. “Don’t worry. You’re still my favorite assassin.”

“I was looking forward to putting a bullet in his fucking fascist face.”

“I’ll make sure you have a front row seat,” he petted her cheek with his thumb. “Alright?”

Her lips twitched upwards into a small smirk, hand resting over his own. He had missed this; the feeling of comradery. Of it being them against the world.

∗ ∗ ∗

The asylum was cold and eerie. The guard searched them rather thoroughly upon their arrival. Lucy could sense Tommy watching him like a hawk the entire time that he patted her down, supervising in case the guard tried to push things too far with his touches. But he didn’t, and they proceeded to follow him down the white hallways without incident. 

The sounds of indiscernible cries and screaming echoed in the cells that they passed. Tommy kept checking over his shoulder, to make sure that she was still behind him.

The man Tommy told her was named Barney was huddled in the corner of his cell, strapped in a straightjacket, eyes darting around wildly. But he seemed mostly lucid as he spoke to Tommy. Lucy remained quiet, save for briefly introducing herself when they first entered, and sat watchfully in the corner, eyeing up her replacement.

No, not her replacement. It was just for this job only. At least that’s what she kept trying to remind herself. 

Barney seemed, well…nice. It was almost sweet to listen to him and Tommy reminisce about the time they had spent serving in France together. He reminded her a bit of a puppy, Lucy decided. It was the way he had perked up at Tommy’s mention of a beautiful French waitress they had encountered. Or the way he stood at the bars, watching them leave, smiling and murmuring in excitement at his impending break out.  

“Barney seems like fun,” she commented after they walked out of the asylum. Tommy smiled a little.

“You should have seen him before. You two would have gotten along great.”

“Horrific place, though,” she glanced over her shoulder at the asylum.

“Yes,” he agreed, deep in thought. 

“Do you really think that this is going to work?”

“Why? You don’t trust me?” his voice was teasing, but his eyes were sad.

“You? Absolutely. I just hope that your sniper hasn’t lost his touch after all these years.”

“He hasn’t.”

“Alright then.”

She had been feeling particularly guilty ever since their fight in Tommy’s office. Both for brushing him off and avoiding him, and also for still not having truly sat down and talked about any of it like he so clearly wanted to. But at the same time, the painful sting of feeling unwanted continued to prickle at her. It was hard to fully believe that Tommy was as broken up over her being gone as he claimed to be. 

Even when staying over at the apartment, he’d taken to sleeping in the second bedroom. If that wasn’t an obvious enough message as to how he felt about her, she wasn’t really sure what was. 

Fuck, she was so damned confused. She missed being able to read him like a book. 

A painful feeling of something else, something tied to the feeling of being unwanted, twisted inside her. Because it didn’t really matter if he was as upset as he claimed, because he had still chosen Lizzie over her. And now, he had chosen another person, one he hadn’t directly interacted with in ten years, to give her job to.  

A hand brushed over hers, quietly demanding her full attention on him. His blue eyes were stern.

“You’re not being replaced,” he said. 

“No?” she tried to keep her tone light, though she was certain that he could see the doubt in her eyes.

“He’s going right back there once the job is done,” a gloved thumb rubbed along her knuckles. “I promise.”

There was no room for argument, no dishonesty in his eyes. Hope, cruel and malicious, flickered in her chest. She nodded trustingly.

“Okay. Let’s go kill Oswald Mosley.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“I had more complicated strategies in mind for Mr. Mosley. Then he spoke badly to my wife. It’s gonna be a busy few weeks, brother,” Tommy said to Arthur before walking away. Arthur answered in the affirmative, rubbing his hands together and going to assist Charlie and Curly with unloading the boat carrying Chang’s shipment of opium that they’d arrived on. 

Lucy remained standing where she had been stationed by the very edge of the canal. Staring with her eyes straight forward, her entire figure going stock-still at the words Tommy had just so casually uttered. 

Lizzie. He was going to kill Mosley, for Lizzie. 

Not for business reasons, or political ones. Not because he’d insisted that he either sack her or marry her off. Not for the good of the country, or the safety of the family, or even because wiping that fascist, dangerous piece of shit off the face of the earth actually was the morally right thing to do. No; he was doing this for her. For his wife. The mother of his children. 

The woman he loved. 

Lucy felt her heart constrict inside her chest, splintering in half agonizingly.

Below her, the waters from the cut raced past in a wild surge. She thought of how easy it would be to just step off. One tip forward. A slight unbalancing, and she would go into the water.

Would anyone even notice? Would anyone even care? Or would she be left to sink beneath the dark black depths, for the fish to eat out her eyes and the water to swell within her lungs?

Lizzie had replaced her in his heart. Barney was replacing her in her job as one of the gang’s assassins. They had a whole network of spies that Isiah was more than familiar enough with to run on his own if he needed to, and Adam could easily pick up the brunt of what she did at the London office. The rest of her various professional duties could be divided up between the rest of the family without fuss. The kids had Lizzie to mother them. 

She was not needed. Not wanted. Not even loved anymore. 

Maybe Tommy had never even really loved her at all in the first place. 

She’d started to foolishly allow herself to hope again, just a tiny miniscule amount, after the car bomb went off outside the office and he practically dove on top of her to protect her from the blast. But that must have just been the result of the old instincts of the soldier he’d once been. Not a symptom of any enduring love for her. 

Mist curled around her ankles, as if trying to coax her to the water. Just tip forward. You don’t even have to take a step. Just lean into the embrace of the black current, and the water will do the rest. You can be with Grace again. No one here will miss you anyway.

Tempting as the offer was, she did not move. She was unable too, so crushed by one simple realization that she was incapable of any other motion, thought, or speech.

She had lost Tommy forever.

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[kiyomitakada]

This is not in Halle’s contract. Yes, she’s in the SPK to avenge her brother — not to make a quick buck — and yes, she’s more of an independent asset anyway, but nevertheless she is quite sure this is not in her contract.

“Well, you think I’m stupid,” Amane muses, poking at the glass of wine in front of her. “So you’d put the poison in my glass.”

“I would never think so lowly of you,” Takada says innocently, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “You are a dear friend, Amane-san.”

“Riiight, and I’m not stupid, so I’d go for your glass instead. But,” and Amane leans forward to jab a finger in Takada’s face, “you told me that just so I would go for your glass, so you actually put the poison in your glass.”

“I really don’t know where this misconception came from,” Takada says calmly. “I never said I poisoned either of our glasses.”

“You said you hoped I’d enjoy it!”

“An entirely benign thing to say—”

“No no no,” Amane says. “You said it like—” She lowers her voice to a purr. “‘I hope you… enjoy it, Amane-san.’”

Takada is now clearly fighting down a smile. “You’re imagining things.”

“‘Because it would be such a shame if this was your last meal, since the Kira activity has been ramping up so much lately’—”

“Is that really what I sound like to you?”

“Yes. And, and then: ‘it’s really rather fitting we have red wine, just as Judas did before he kissed the Messiah’—”

“I absolutely did not say that,” Takada says, amusement dancing in her eyes. Halle almost does a double take; she looks so different from the Kiyomi Takada who exits hotel rooms with the beginnings of sadness in the creases of her smile. “Where did you even get that from?”

“The goth look is researched, you know,” Amane huffs. “I don’t just slap crosses on and call it a day, the aesthetic has to make sense!”

“Unlike you,” Takada murmurs.

“Hey!” Amane leans even further forward, almost knocking her wine glass over, and pokes Takada in the shoulder. “I heard that.”

“I know,” Takada says, and slaps her hand over Amane’s, trapping it on her shoulder. Amane freezes. Halle expects her to pull back, but — no, they’re both just staring at each other now, Amane’s eyes wide and Takada’s narrowed. A stalemate.

Halle gives it ten seconds before she clears her throat.

“Ah—!” Takada lets go, leaning back. Amane collapses back into her seat, eyes still rounded. “Apologies, Lidner-san, I…”

“Hey,” Amane interjects, “I almost deduced your whole thing there! You distracted me. Which means the poison has to be in your glass!”

Halle internally revises her report to Near. This is not a catfight. This is something much weirder than that.

“Yes, congratulations,” Takada says dryly. “You’ve uncovered my evil plot.”

Amane reaches for her own glass, then pauses again. “But then… why are you letting me think that?”

A smirk is growing on Takada’s face. “Why indeed?”

“Alright, Kiyomi,” Amane declares, slamming both hands onto the table. “This battle of wits begins! Today!”

Honestly. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Halle had prepared the wine herself and therefore knew perfectly well that it was nontoxic, she’d probably be hoping both glasses were poisoned by now.

On the plus side, at least she’ll get to surprise Near with the knowledge that the suspected second Kira and Kira’s spokeswoman have started flirting. This is probably good for the strategy. Somehow.

“I accept your challenge,” Takada says coolly, but it’s all too easy to see the sparkle in her eyes.

Please for the love of god let this be good for the strategy.

[ @deathnotetober day 20: poison (with apologies to the princess bride) ]

[charcoalgrayswriting]

Drop

Read on AO3 HERE!

Words: 2968

Summary: After a honeypot mission with a dom, she is suffering from subdrop. After noticing this, Adler helps her out. (OFC is not described, and can be interpreted as Bell)

“Fuck,” she grumbled as she stumbled against the ugly patterned wallpaper as she tripped over her own two feet. Sighing she forced her tired aching back to straighten, despite the dizziness and black spots it caused. 

Adler had called her to his room to discuss something. However, she had already been in bed and half asleep, so he would have to just deal with her lack of professional attire. She had simply thrown a hotel-provided robe over her pajamas, not even bothering with a bra. 

Shoulders rolling back, she knocked on the wooden hotel door. The motion caused some nausea, and the knocking made her head pound, but nonetheless she pushed through. 

It was yanked open, revealing Adler standing in the doorway with a lit cigarette perched between his teeth. He almost looked… soft, or maybe domestic with his work polo unbuttoned and untucked, hair mussed, and signature shades swapped out for a pair of normal glasses. It made a part of her want to submit and sink to her knees, before she shoved her urges down and forced the fantastical thought away.

 “Good, you’re here,” he muttered, and she tried not to let it show how his unintentional praise affected her. It was like pouring warm honey into the cold empty pit inside her stomach she’d had since the last op. She didn’t think she was very successful, judging by his subvocal hum and the aborted upward twitch of his lips. 

Ushering her into the room, he sat her down at the small table, standing just behind her. Before she could turn her head around and ask just what he thought was doing, two large warm hands landed on her tired shoulders, forcing her to keep still with a simple squeeze before they traveled under her nightshirt. A non-verbal order that she hastened to obey with a shudder. 

Adler always exuded a certain amount of dominance that was nearly overwhelming on a good day. Whether or not he intended it to be was unclear, but with her state the way it was after her last mission, well, it was nearly unbearable. It made her lean back into the warmth of his body, ever so slightly tilting her neck to expose it to him. Submitting to him in a way she never allowed herself to before. 

The pleased noise he made nearly made her cry with relief. When he began to work at the tense muscles in her shoulders a low whine broke from her lips before she could even attempt to stop it. She didn’t know it was possible to become more tense, but somehow, she did despite all his hard work. 

The urge to run warred with her instinct to be good, to stay put like he had commanded. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to, and it nearly paralyzed her. 

“Well isn’t that interesting.” Adler all but purred, and she could practically feel the smile on his face, even if she couldn’t see it. 

Nausea and shame curled in her gut as she tried to turn around and face him, swaying as she did so. “Adler I can expl-” 

Clamping his hands down on her shoulders, Adler stilled her. “Oh?” Leisurely, he continued to work at the knots in her shoulders, and the easing of her muscles made her slump forwards so that her nose almost touched the hotel table. 

“Mhm,” eyelids drooping, she tried to force herself up, fight the impending subspace, but failed. A small huff of laughter could be heard behind her, though she could barely muster up enough strength to feel indignant on her own behalf. 

“You’ve been doing so well,” The praise hit her like a punch to the gut, and she let out another whine, this one closer to a wheeze. 

“Oh you liked that, didn’t you?” He paused as he dug his calloused fingers into a particularly tough knot, letting out a small grunt, before continuing. “You know, I’ve been watching you.” 

Though her mind recoiled at the statement, she found that her body was unwilling to move. Maybe she could trick herself into thinking it was just her biology, urging her to let him put her under. 

But she knew the truth. No other dom she had met had the effect on her that he did. Though she did kneel for them, she’d never felt the urge, simply doing it to take care of her biological needs. 

Ever since the last op, she had been dropping, hard. She felt dizzy, nauseous, pained, empty, and cold all at once. And now, Adler was helping her through it, her prior positive experiences with him seemed to be enough for her subconscious to want to obey him. He had proven himself to be a capable dom. Good at taking care of his people, willing to provide, and dole out fair punishment. And it didn’t hurt that he wasn’t all that bad to look at, either. 

“At first I thought your file was wrong.” Fingers holding her head in place by the jaw, Adler’s thumbs pressed into the base of her skull, where her head met her spine, kneading it slowly. The migraine that had been plaguing her, magically, mercifully, reduced. Breath stuttering, she felt such relief she could cry. She held back, for that would only make the pain worse, though her eyes still watered. 

“I mean, you acted so much like the rest of us, so much like a dom that I just couldn’t see you as a sub.” Adler tilted her head back, pulling her up and into his chest, leaning her into him. His body was warm, the scent of cologne and cigarettes wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. Inch by traitorous inch, her body began to relax into him. 

A firm hand wrapped gently around her throat. She should be panicking, these hands were responsible for the deaths of hundreds, maybe thousands. Not only that, she knew that he would not hesitate to end her with them if he thought she was a threat. Instead, she just felt safe with his calluses scraping along the delicate skin of her neck. 

“But then I began to notice things. Little things that most people overlook” His thumb began to rub up and down her pulse, his other hand twirling his lit cigarette around in her peripheral vision. 

“You lean into anyone who touches you,” much like she was just now. Hastily, she tried to pull away from Adler, only to have him stop her, pressing back her against his chest with his firm but gentle grip on her neck, squeezing it lightly in warning. 

“Careful now,” and she took the reprimand for what it was, a pained whine sneaking through her lips before she could stop it as the gaping pit in her stomach deepened. 

“Your eyes light up beautifully at praise,” her cheeks heated at Adler’s murmured proclamation, trying to shrink in on herself before remembering his reprimand. He didn’t verbally acknowledge this, but he did huff another laugh. She didn’t want to, but she treasured the rare sound. 

He sighed, continuing on when she settled, his thumb rhythmically stroking across her carotid artery. “You de-escalate well, don’t immediately start a fight unless there’s no other option.”

“You show a high degree of emotional intelligence, not normally seen in doms.” She tilted her head up to stare at him through heavy lidded eyes, halfway to subspace with no more than light praise and a gentle touch. It should have made her feel pathetic, had her brain not already shut off all higher thinking. Once all this was over, she would feel embarrassed for how little it took for Adler to get her to relax. 

Adler continued on, the hand holding his cigarette coming to rest on her shoulder, the lit end pointed away from her face. “You know exactly how far to push, and how to push to get the intel you need.” 

She was barely listening to him anymore, letting his honeyed words wash over her mind, slowly and carefully lowering her into subspace.

For an undetermined amount of time there was silence, “And I think you dropped after this last op.” 

Well she was certainly listening now, a cold dread set into her stomach at the reminder of her last op. She jerked away from him, a panicked noise dying in her throat as Adler held her close to him. The hand around her neck tightened, cutting off her air for a few seconds before he released her. She took the reprimand for what it was, tilting her neck to him in deference as she shook. 

He sighed above her. “Truthfully, I never considered that your lack of aftercare would be a problem. Had I remembered, I wouldn’t have pulled you out so quick.” the hand on her shoulder rubbed up and down her arm, like he was trying to soothe a skittish horse.

For some reason, it was working, and the icy-cold wrongness of subdrop began to thaw. 

Under his breath, Adler muttered, “Hudson really reamed me out for that one.” and she was unable to hide her rasping laugh. So that had been what all the yelling was about yesterday. Everyone had heard it, but no one could say for certain what had made Hudson so furious he started screaming. Especially at Adler. 

“You’ve been so good.” It was like he injected serotonin right into her brain, she was so close to subspace, teetering on the edge of floating off the cliff into a peaceful abyss. 

Now beyond words, she settled for a small hum. 

“Let's get you more comfortable,” before she could completely register what he was saying, Adler was tugging her up and out of her seat, leading her over to the leather cuck chair that all hotels, regardless of where they were in the world, had. On the floor was one of the pillows from the bed, and without thinking, she knelt on it, looking back up at Adler for direction. 

He graced her with another one of his rare smiles before sitting down in front of her, and the euphoria of pleasing her dominant nearly knocked her over. 

“Good girl,” the praise went right to her head, and she whined again, swaying as her arms fluttered in front of her, unsure of what to do. 

But she didn’t need to worry, Adler understood, and he placed a hand in her hair, gently tugging her head into his lap. His actions unbalanced her, and she wrapped her arms around his legs as she fell into them. 

“Just like that.” The hand stayed in her hair, petting her, while he continued to smoke leaning back into his chair, watching her with heavily lidded eyes. 

It was too much and not enough, and she could tell that she was so close to subspace, and she didn’t want to disappoint Adler, but she just couldn’t– 

As her thoughts began to spiral, Adler tugged her hair. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to get her to look back up at him. 

“What do you need?” she shuddered, mind blanking as she scrambled for something to tell him. 

“I don’t know sir,” she whispered, voice cracking, frustrated tears welling up in her eyes. If he was surprised by the title, he didn’t show it. Instead he examined her closely. 

“Alright,” his hand slowly stroked through her hair again, and she leaned into the touch like a cat. 

“I need you to relax for me, can you do that?” and she nodded against his legs, realizing that she hadn’t truly relaxed yet. She may have submitted, but she was still waiting to be jerked back out of her hazy state. 

Her muscles take a few seconds to respond as she tries to relax them, slowly going boneless. It makes all the difference, and when Adler resumes petting her hair with some more praise, she’s gone. 

Lips parting, her head lolled to the side as she closed her eyes, listening to Adler’s words. But she did not truly hear them, just allowing herself to be tugged deeper and deeper into the ocean of subspace. The scent of whatever brand of cologne and cigarettes Adler used became a warm blanket around her as she just breathed. 

The pain that had been plaguing her slowly receded, and tears pricked at the corners of her closed eyes. 

For an undetermined length of time, they just sat like this, his hand in her hair, her head in his lap, their breath and hearts synced with each other. She could stay like this forever. 

Unfortunately, her body had other plans, and her legs began to cramp. Adler noticed her shifting her weight to try and get comfortable again. 

“Look at me,” and she could feel the command in his voice, impossible for her to disobey with all of her defenses down. 

Staring up at him with wide, wet eyes, she waited for his next command. 

Adler merely hummed, studying her like she was something precious, carefully running his fingers across her cheek. He handled her like she was important, and perhaps that was the best thing of all. 

“You look so beautiful down there,” his thumb brushed along her cheekbone, and again, she leaned into his touch, feeling the way her cheeks heated as she did so. 

“Ready to come up yet?” considering for a second, she shook her head, squinting as she shifted uncomfortably again. 

“Alright then, gonna move this somewhere more comfortable for you then.” 

Before she could even make a sound, Adler was repositioning her. Slowly, he raised her head from his lap, making sure she could sit up on her own. 

He tugged her up and led her to the bed, supporting most of her weight as she struggled to walk. 

She must have made some sort of panicked noise, because Adler stopped, tilting his head down at her. Whatever he saw on her face made him displeased, and he continued to tug her reluctant body towards the bed. Once she was seated on the left side, he took her face in both of his hands, thumbs brushing over her cheeks. The action caused tears to leak out of her eyes, startling her. 

Unable to do anything but stare up at him from where he towered over her, she waited for his next direction, resigned, despite the disgust curdling in her stomach. 

“What’s wrong?” His hands laced into her hair, holding her in place. 

It takes her a few seconds to process his words, simply staring up at him before her mouth moves without her conscious input. “I’m sorry sir,” her voice cracking on the last word. She looked away from his burning eyes, unable to look at him as she whispered, “Don’t want sex.” unable to hide the repulsed shudder that worked its way through her body. 

“Don’t worry,” he slips his hands out of her hair, though he keeps one on her arm at all times as he pulls the covers back, and she follows him with her foggy eyes. “I won’t touch you like that,” and the last of the remaining tension recedes from her body. 

Adler sat next to her, shifting to the middle of the bed, and gestured for her to follow. Once she shuffled close enough, both of his arms gently maneuvered her so that she was chest to chest with him, laying the entirety of her body on top of him. A large hand pressed her face into the crook of his neck, sliding down and under her hair to gently scruff her neck. 

His other hand pulled the covers up and over them enveloping her in the bed’s comfortable weight and warmth. 

 Uncaring as she heard the sound of his lighter spark, and the fresh scent of a new cigarette filled the room. She allowed herself to float back into subspace, her aching arms tucked close to Adler, their legs intertwined. 

Slowly, the world around her sharpened at the edges. The birds chirped in the background, and there was a vague honking in the distance. Adler’s cigarette had long since burned out, though its smell still lingered. Blinking sleepily, she shifted, attempting to pull away from him. 

The hand on the back of her neck tightened, “What’re you doing?” he murmured, and she felt his lips on the back of her head. Miraculously, it no longer hurt, though her cheeks did heat at his actions. 

“Mmm, gotta– gotta go sleep.” she mumbled, not quite all there yet, though her senses had sharpened, her mind was still fuzzy. The hand he held his cigarette in tightened across her back, fingers digging into her waist. Not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to make itself known. As if she could have forgotten it. 

“Stay.” it wasn’t a request, more of a demand, but she knew that if she truly wanted to leave, he would let her. Perhaps that was why she didn’t feel bothered by the idea of staying, of letting him keep her. Because she knew, if she stayed, it would be permanent. Russell Adler was not a man who liked to share. 

Despite the heavy hand across her neck, she lifted her head to stare imploringly at Adler. “S’okay?”

Scoffing, Adler rolled his eyes, decisively stating, “If I wanted you gone, you would be gone.” staring into his eyes for another second, she nodded, marveling at the lack of nausea it brought her. 

“Kay.” she settled back into him with a sigh. The hand on her neck moved to the back of her head, running through her hair. The gentle rhythm soothing her to sleep.

And if she joined for sleep every night they were both available? 

Well. That was no one else’s business but theirs. 

Banner by @cafekitsune

[clumsiestgiantess]

Lots of people wanted a continuation to the short I made for @entomolog-t’s prompt, so here you are! I already had ideas for a second part the moment I finished the first one!

(First part here)

I was so tired the night of my disappearing act that I barely made it to the scraps of insulated fabric I call my bed.  Just as my head hit the comfortable fluff, a thud echoed above my head and I dashed to the doorway in seconds, heart racing.  More thuds rumbled over the floorboards as I stood frozen looking fearfully upwards — believing Alice somehow knows where I am, and is trying to pry up the wooden planks to get to me.  Faintly, I can hear her muffled voice.  “Please, I know you’re scared, but hiding isn’t going to do either of us any good!  Just come out; I swear I’m not dangerous!”  

Oh.  She’s probably crawling around on the floor trying to find me.  Well, unless she can crawl beneath it, she’ll have a tough time finding anything but dust!  I sneered at the thought, trying to reassure myself enough to get back in bed.  I’m safe now.  She’s not going to find me here.  However, no matter how many fabric scraps I press over my ears, I can’t drown out enough noise for me to sleep.  Even when I lay on the cold floor with everything over my head until I’m nearly suffocating, I can still feel the vibrations of Alice moving around.  Just go to sleep already!  Thud around all you like in the morning when I leave for the day!  Regardless of my mental harassment of her, the human didn’t give up until it was early morning.

Finally, I have peace and quiet, and I fall asleep in record time.  Come morning, the house is still silent as ever.  I wake up with a gnawing ache in my chest.  Briefly, I think it’s guilt over what I’d done the day before — turns out it was just hunger.  I’d run away before getting to eat yesterday.  Thankfully, I have some provisions that I’ve stored away for emergencies.  I grab a few crackers and glance at the little watch piece that’s fastened to the wall.  Oh, what?!  I slept in!  I usually never sleep in!  My natural alarm wakes me up at almost the exact time every day.  Then again, I’m usually asleep much earlier than last night, too.  

No wonder the floor is so quiet; Alice is probably out of the house by now, or in her room working on human things.  Quickly finishing breakfast, I slip on my bag and head out to the large kitchen.  Now that my emergency stash of food is diminished, I’m a bit anxious to get it stocked again.  I walk the same trek I’d sleepily walked the night before, but stop at the end of the hall where the electrical cover sits.  Maybe I’ll.. go a different way.  

Taking the long way through the walls, I come out inside a cabinet with windowed doors.  Reaching out to push one open, I glance out of it and flinch.  With cautious steps, I slide backward behind some cups.  Alice is in the room.  None of her usual music is playing, she isn’t watching videos on her phone, she isn’t talking to herself or a friend on the phone, either.  She’s just sitting there with what appears to be her breakfast, staring numbly at a wall.  Huh.  Whatever ‘exams’ are, they really seem to be stressing her out.  Usually she’s done with breakfast by now.  

Her strange behavior can’t be because of me.  She had spent less than twelve hours with me, and most of that time she spent ignoring me.  Logically, she wouldn’t be that upset over someone she barely knew, right?  She’d given up her search hours ago when she finally stopped keeping me up all night.

A while later, she leaves.  It’s strange, though.  Alice steps lightly across the room, glancing around the floor before each step.  Maybe she lost something important?  That tends to make humans fairly stressed.  Hell, it makes me stressed.  If a human’s missing something, it might mean I made a bad judgment call on what I could take without being noticed.

My nerves settle when the sound of her footsteps fade off.  Back to business.  My day runs relatively smoothly from there.  Of course, I had to come across a knot or two in my climbing rope mid-scale, which I wasn’t too happy about.  After collecting up some food, I spent a long while getting the knots to untie.  It’s always best to get them out before you make a climb, that way your weight won’t tug them tighter.  It was too late for that lesson to come in handy, though.  

My next chore on the list is borrowing some more thread to stitch winter linings back into my clothes.  The winter weather caught me by surprise.  It had come earlier than I thought, and I’d nearly died because of it.  Briefly, blurry visions of the inside of that knitted hat fade in and out of my consciousness.  I nearly froze to death that night.  If the thing hadn’t been left there accidentally, I wouldn’t have made it long enough to even try to get help.  Blinking away the memories, I realized I was shivering and rubbed my hands over my arms for a bit more warmth, reminding myself that I’m safe here.  The apartment never gets that cold.  Ever.

At my home under the floors that afternoon, I gather up the materials I already collected.  I have the fluffy inner lining that I’d taken from an old coat Alice left in a storage bin — I’ve been using it as bedding — my knife to cut everything to size, and a smaller needle I’d whittled out of a long chunk of wood.  Now all I need is the thread.

Back in my little passages, I head in the opposite direction through the floor.  I slow as I make my way up into the walls towards Alice’s room.  Unfortunately, that’s where the sewing kit is, directly under her bed.  Alice will be there for sure.  Whatever she’s working on this time must be important.  I haven’t heard her leave her room all day since I saw her walk in this morning.  She hasn’t even gotten lunch.  Maybe she has a snack on her desk!  Perhaps when she’s asleep or out of the house I’ll steal some of it.

Sliding out of a crack in the baseboards behind a large bookshelf, I creep up to the very edge of it and scan the room.  Sure enough, Alice is there doing schoolwork, watching a video on something called ‘trigonometry’ that I can barely pronounce — I don’t dare try to imagine what it actually is.  At least she’s not being unnervingly still anymore.  

I dart from my place beneath the bookshelf to beneath her bed.  The sewing kit sits further towards the wall, right beside her desk.  Alice seems distracted enough, scribbling down something while mumbling about things I don’t understand.  She does that often enough that it isn’t as concerning as this morning.  Maybe she’s finally returning to normal.  That’s a relief.  A human on a schedule is a good human to live with.  Memorize it, use it to your advantage, and you’ll practically own the place — at least while they’re not around.

Making my way to the box, I wait for the video to start playing again before popping open the lid — timing it so she doesn’t pick up the noise amidst the other sounds she’s concentrating on.  Sliding a few things around, I manage a clear path to the spool I want.  Rummaging through various different items larger than yourself is no easy task, but I make it look practically effortless.  A shrunken human would never be able to do half the things I do on a daily basis, I think with a smirk.  I yank out the spool of thread and reach for my knife.

“No!  What?  How?!  I used the same formula and everything!”  I flinch as Alice yells, her angry voice edged with dismay.  Cautiously, I tiptoe over to the side of her bedframe and glance up at her.  She’s frantically writing something down, biting at her bottom lip with furrowed brows.  Whatever it is, she isn’t too happy about it.  I’m just about to continue my work when she glances over at the computer screen again.  “What the heck?!”  Furiously, she crumples her paper into a crushed ball, looking ready to throw it across the room in a fit of rage.  I brace myself instinctively, thankful I hadn’t stuck around to anger her.

Suddenly, a sob wrenches out of Alice’s throat, catching me entirely by surprise.  She curls her arms around her head as it falls to the surface of the desk.  The paper ball drops dully to the floor.  Her whole body shakes as she cries onto her desk, and my relief drops into a muted kind of confusion.  “I’m gonna fail,” she whimpers, “I can’t do this.  Why is everything going so wrong?  I just wanted to help him; why’d he run away?  I feel sick.  What if he’s hurt somewhere and can’t call for help?  What if he’s too scared to call for help?”

She.. really is worried about me.  So worried that she’s acting like a complete mess — and not the silly endearing mess I’m fond of her for.  If my disappearance amplifies her worries over these exams…  Well, she didn’t tell me what would happen if she failed them, just that she couldn’t.  I abandon the thread I’m after and rush for the crack in the wall behind the bookshelf.  A plan’s forming in my mind.  It might backfire horribly, but I’m hoping it’ll work.  Alice is much too distracted for me to even bother checking if the coast is clear.  Her light sobs still echo against the surface of her desk.

I slip between the two halves of the wall and take a large calming breath.  Then I start shouting.  “Alice!  It’s ok, I-”  The human sits up so abruptly I stop talking fearfully.  I don’t know how beings as big as her can move so quickly.  She scans the floor of the entire room in only a few seconds.  Of course, I’m smart enough not to be in plain sight.  “Hello?”  Alice’s voice is slightly muffled like her nose is stuffy.  I swallow a lump that formed in my throat.  “It’s.. It’s ok.  It’s me, the ‘little guy’.”  Alice hastily rubs away her tears and stands up.  “You’re… alright?” she asks me, glancing around.  “Yeah.”

“Oh thank god!” Alice gasps, relieved.  “You made me so worried for you!  Are you hungry still?  I- I know you haven’t eaten in a while since you.. ran off when I tried to get something for you.”

The room falls into an awkward silence.  I can’t see much of her from beneath the bookshelf, but I watch Alice nervously shuffle from foot to foot — waiting for my response.  She can’t stay silent for very long, though.  “Look, I’m sorry I scared you off…  I don’t know what happened, but I’m willing to work with you to try and get your memories and your old life back.  I can’t imagine how terrifying it is to suddenly be so small, not even knowing how you got that way-”

“Stop.”  Alice quieted at the single word.  “That’s.. a lie.  I remember everything just fine.”  I want to say that I’m not terrified of being small either, but I can’t bring myself to say it.  Even if I’ve lived my whole life this way, I still have my moments.  Yesterday and that whole escapade with the freezing car was one of the worst of them.  “So.. you just didn’t want to tell me how you shrank?”  I sigh, “No.. Alice, I- I never shrank.  I’ve always been this way.”  She starts and stops talking a few different times — syllables barely leaving her mouth.  “I’m not human, Alice.”

The silence that follows is worse than the last.  It feels almost suffocating.  A gentle thud reverberates over the floorboards and I peer out.  Alice is kneeling on the floor, leaning down to peer under the bookshelf.  Quickly, I duck back behind the wall.  “Is that why you left?”  Her voice softens, tears entirely gone.  “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”  “You promised the tiny human me that you wouldn’t hurt me.”  I glance out of my hiding spot just as Alice’s gaze wanders, thinking through something.  

“You thought I would go back on my word if I knew you were lying to me?  Or you just.. thought that I wouldn’t care because you’re not human?” she asks me, sounding hurt.  I feel almost chastised.  Her gaze flickers to me.  “I promised you that I wouldn’t hurt you.  You.  No matter who or what you were.  I’m a bit upset you wanted to lie to me about… everything.  But I can’t be mad at you for being scared of me.  I won’t ask you to talk to me anymore if you don’t want to, but just know, I’m glad you’re alright.”

Tears of relief well in my eyes and my throat tightens.  Tentatively, I slide out from within the crack in the wall.  “You- You really mean that?  You don’t care that I’m not one of you?”  A small smile spreads over Alice’s lips.  Of course not, don’t be silly!  You’re safe here, I promise.  I understand if you want to go home, though.  You probably have others of your kind to get back to, and I’ve accidentally trapped you in my house.”  I glance away sheepishly, “Well, about that…  I kind of.. live here.”  “What?!”

I end up telling her every part of the truth — how I really got into her car, where I’d gone to when I ran off — everything.  “I actually did remember my name.  It’s just.. not really a human-sounding one, so I couldn’t exactly give you it.  My name’s Fennel, but I mostly just go by Fen.”  “Fen?” she asks a bit confusedly.  I nod.  “Nice to finally really meet you!” Alice laughs, “How long have you been living here.. with me?”  I think back.  “I moved in after you were already here, but you were still unpacking things, so I don’t think it was very far off from when you moved in, too.”  Alice makes a surprised noise.  “Where were you living before?”  “Eh, another apartment in this building.  The new people were too loud, so I moved out.”  She giggled, “I wish I could just pack up and slip into a new home whenever I have problems with the neighbors.”  I sigh, “It’s harder than it seems; I have to rebuild a livable space for myself every time.”  Alice nods thoughtfully, sitting back up.  Some of her bones crack as she does, and I flinch.

“Hey, if you don’t mind, can you maybe come out from beneath there?  It hurts my back to try to bend all the way to the floor to look at you.”  She won’t hurt you, she won’t hurt you, she won’t hurt you.  “Alright.”  With slow deliberate steps I make my way out from beneath the bookshelf.  Alice sits a foot away from me.  I have to crane my neck back vertically to see her face, peering almost all the way downward at me.  She offers me the palm of her hand.  “Can I hold you?  Please?”  My heartbeat thunders so loudly I almost don’t hear what she asks.  Cautiously, I nod and step up onto her hand, raised just a bit higher than a stair.  She won’t hurt you, she won’t hurt you, she won’t hurt you.

I’ve never interacted with a human before her, but I’ve seen it happen before.  My brother — well, he wasn’t actually my brother, but we always called eachother that — had been found by a human.  I was there.  It was pitch dark, perfect time for borrowing.  We’d forgotten a light, but Gin scoffed at the idea of going back for one — until he stepped into a mouse trap.  Every once and a while I’ll still hear the awful noise made when the trap snapped closed on him.  The human came running when they heard the gargled shriek, and the last thing he told me was to leave him there.  The metal beam that had crunched around his midsection somehow hadn’t killed him, but his body was far from unharmed.

From a grate in the floor nearby, I watched as the human found him, ensured him things would be alright, and pulled him out of the trap — tearing him in two.  In hindsight, I don’t think the human meant to kill him.  They screamed and dropped the half of him they were holding.  I was too stricken and horrified to process that in the moment, so I just ran.

“Fen?”  I flinched so violently I nearly knocked myself in the face with my hand, instinctively trying to cover my head with my arms.  “Are you ok?  You look sick.  If this makes you uncomfortable, I can put you back down.  You didn’t have to get on.”  It’s just like in the car — her blue-eyed gaze looking me over with genuine concern.  “I- I’m alright.”  She gently shakes her head.  “You aren’t, though.  You’re shaking.”  The gentlest pressure alights on my chest as a soft finger brushes up against it.  “And your heart’s beating really fast.”  Her touch is so soft — incredibly cautious like she’s holding something precious and delicate.  Maybe I am, to her.  It’s nothing like what I had imagined a human would feel like, nothing at all.

In a brief moment of weakness, my eyes tear up and I squeeze her finger closer, pressing my forehead against it.  It is absolutely terrifying thinking about where I am.  I’ve spent all my life believing it’s a place of certain death.  Why is it so comfortable?  All Alice would have to do to hurt me is close her fist and squeeze.  My fate wouldn’t be that much different than Gin’s.  She won’t hurt you, she won’t hurt you, she won’t hurt you.

Everything shifts around me and I rush to get out of her grip, immediately fearing that my imagination somehow willed an awful reality.  But Alice brings me up to her chest and holds me gently against it.  She tucks me against her sternum as her head comes to rest behind her hands that hold me.  “It’s alright now.”  I’m not sure if she’s assuring me, or herself, but I accept it and bring myself snugly against her.  It’s blissfully warm there.  While the walls where I live aren’t nearly as freezing as the outdoors, they’re still plenty cold.  The heat is more than welcome.  My wild pulse softens into a much normal rhythm while I listen to Alice’s own heartbeat thrumming beneath her skin.

Things are fuzzy in my mind beyond that moment.  I’ve been up for a full twenty-four hours, and the night before was only worse than the last.  I remember stumbling off her palm onto her desk, watching dazedly as Alice looked around the room for something.  She finds it and places it down for me.  It’s a little blanket folded over so it can be both a mattress and blanket at the same time.  I crawl into it, listening to the sound of pencil scratches on paper for only a few minutes before I fall asleep mumbling a weary ‘thank you’.

[flightfoot]

Never Underestimate Alya Ch. 3

AO3/FFN

Alya scowled, grabbing the bars of her small cage. Monarch had left around twenty minutes ago. From what he’d said about “People won’t look for you if they think you’re already dead,” she assumed that he was off to fake her death somehow. With the Fox Miraculous at his disposal, it wouldn’t be hard. 

She looked balefully over at Trixx’s container, still empty. Monarch had made sure to snag her friend on his way out, much to her dismay.

She hoped the process of being sucked into one of those Miraculous substitute rings was more pleasant than the process of being sucked through an Alliance ring. Going through that once was bad enough, but being put through that multiple times a week? That would be unbearable.

What could she even do? She was just stuck here, alone, in this damn cage! And not the pleasant kind of “stuck in a cage” either. No, this time instead of being stuck with a cute, nice boy, she was stuck in the cage by herself, in the dingy, dark lair of a supervillain.

She punched one of the bars in frustration. She didn’t actually expect it to do anything but hurt her fist, but… was it her imagination, or did the cage move slightly?

Hm… Monarch had hastily constructed it with the Goat Miraculous, so maybe…

She kneeled, checking the bottom of the bars. It was as she’d thought. The bars weren’t actually connected to the floor - they were merely resting on top of it.

Standing back up, she gripped the bars, heaving upwards with all her might. She’d have to weight lift with Nora more if she got out of this, this cage was HEAVY.

It budged.

Not much. An inch at most. But it was something.

She let it fall to the floor. She couldn’t do much else right now, it took all her strength just to hold it up… but maybe she could get around that.

She took off her shirt, wincing at the thought of what she was about to do to it. At least she always wore an undershirt, or this could get uncomfortable.

She wadded it up, nudging it beside one of the bars. Then, when she lifted the cage again, she nudged her shirt wad underneath it just before letting go.

The cage didn’t fall all the way down to the floor. Instead, it was stuck an inch off the ground, held up by her shirt.

Which meant that the cage was now off-balance.

She took a deep breath, braced herself, and threw herself full force at the top of the cage on the opposite side.

The cage trembled, creaked, and at last, fell over, landing with a heavy *CLANG*. Unfortunately she fell with it, landing on her shoulder. 

She winced. That was definitely going to leave a bruise.

Stepping gingerly over the bars, she extricated herself from the cage. 

“You got out?!” 

Oh right, the kwamis! Trixx might be gone, but the rest of them were still here.

She grinned. “Monarch needs to stop underestimating me.”

Come to think of it, how was she able to lift that cage? Metal weighs a ton. She looked back over at the fallen cage.

Ah. That’s how. The bars were all hollow. He probably had pictured the usual bars of metal he’d encounter during his day-to-day life, which would often be hollow, instead of the solid metal which would be more practical in this case. Since the inside wasn’t visible, he hadn’t realized his mistake.

Hopefully Monarch had made just as big of an error when it came to the kwamis’ imprisonment. She wasn’t counting on it though. He’d been able to take his time in deciding how best to do so, and if there was some easily exploitable flaw, the kwamis would have found it in the month that they’d been imprisoned for.

Still, it didn’t hurt to try. Perhaps there was a weakness that could be exploited from the outside, but not the inside.

“Do you guys have any clue how I could get you out?” she asked. Hm. Actually… “Is there a reason you can’t just phase through the glass?”

“It has been specially treated to prevent us from doing so,” Sass explained. 

She was curious how Monarch did that, but it wasn’t important right now - she doubted she’d have the expertise to undo it, and she certainly didn’t have access to the materials. “Trixx said something about him feeding you guys pellets. How did he do that?” Maybe she could use the same mechanism to get the kwamis out. 

“He snapped his fingers and the food just fell from the top of the container,” Daizzi answered. She shuddered. “It’s bland and gross, but it’s all we’ve had.”

“Likely from this central hole,” Alya noted, looking at the top of one of the orbs. There had to be some way to replace the lost food. There didn’t appear to be a central tube at the top, so the food must be contained within the sphere itself. 

Which meant that the top of the sphere had to be unscrewable.

She tugged Sass’ orb out of place. It was pretty easy to do, given that it was just hovering in the air. Magnets, maybe? Seemed awfully ostentatious, but then again, this whole lair seemed like typical supervillain overkill. It would make the orbs easy to remove for maintenance, she supposed.

Now… if only… this thing… would open!

She grimaced, panting after trying to untwist it. Nora was the champion jar opener at her house, but she was no slouch herself. 

Maybe it didn’t twist to open. Maybe a key instead? No, there was no keyhole to insert one into. Not that it would do her much good, she didn’t have the key. Maybe she could pick the lock, but she hadn’t learned how to do that. Yet, that is. She’d thought about suggesting that her and Marinette work on learning the skill together, since it could be handy for a couple of superheroes to be able to get themselves out of some scrapes, but reconsidered after thinking about it for a minute.

Lockpicking was a useful skill for superheroes to have. But for MARINETTE to have… well, maybe it was better if a kwami had to agree to help her to break through a lock. She loved her friend, she really did, but sometimes she needed someone to slow her down and make her think about what she was doing.

…okay so maybe Marinette wasn’t the only one who sometimes needed a steadying presence. But hey, things had worked out for her so far! Mostly. She’d gotten out of that cage, hadn’t she?

She shook her head. Focus, Alya, focus!

Okay, so there was no keyhole, and she was beginning to think that the lid didn’t unscrew, either. So how else might it open?

She frowned, looking at the thing that held the orbs. It was almost futuristic seeming, with making the kwami orbs float instead of just having them sit in something. And then there were the Alliance rings, with how those were being used to transfer kwami powers…

Monarch liked tech. Maybe the orbs were controlled digitally? It’d give an extra layer of protection against anyone else freeing the kwamis. 

Dammit, if that was it, she was screwed. Max and Markov could almost certainly bypass whatever this was, but she stood no chance.

“Maybe I should just try to break the glass?” she wondered. It wouldn’t be pleasant for the kwami inside, but she doubted they could be injured by glass shards or sudden impacts.

Sass shook his head. “This is no ordinary glass. An elephant could step on it and it’d be alright.”

“Not like we have an elephant, anyway,” she muttered. Her dad had been hoping they’d get one for the zoo, but it hadn’t happened yet.

Right. So she couldn’t shatter the glass or untwist the lid, though she could freely remove the orbs. If she could just get out of here, she could rescue at least one of the kwamis. 

Unfortunately, getting out of there was the hard part. And getting back to her friends might be even harder, for all she knew. Trixx had said that Monarch’s home was Chat’s home, so presumably that was in Paris, but there was no guarantee that his lair was. He had Kaalki now after all, he could have moved it to just about anywhere. 

Well, maybe not anywhere. She'd probably notice if she was on the moon.

She’d just have to hope that she wasn’t anywhere too remote. Not much she could do if she was.

Hm, come to think of it…

“Are we still in Paris?” she asked Sass.

He nodded. 

“Before Trixx and I were sucked in, he said something about how Monarch’s home is Chat’s home. Can you tell me what that means?”

“Monarch is Chat’s father,” he explained simply.

She sucked in a sharp breath. It made sense, given what Trixx had said, but it was still mind-boggling that someone as awful as Monarch could have a son as heroic as Chat Noir. “Does he know?” she pressed. “That Chat Noir is his son?”

All the kwamis shook their heads.

“He tried to akumatize Chat Noir as a civilian, KNOWING that he’s his son. I dread to think what he’d do if he knew his son was also his enemy,” Sass said.

Ugh. Looked like Monarch was just as awful a person as both a supervillain, and a father. 

Oh, man. If Ladybug and Chat Noir took down Monarch, then not only would Chat have to deal with the knowledge that his father had caused all this pain, but he’d be down a parent as well.

She winced. “Is Chat Noir’s mother an okay person at least?”

Sass shrugged. “I do not know. She died awhile ago. Monarch’s hoping to revive her – at least, that’s his stated goal. I think he lost sight of that some time ago, however.”

That… was a more altruistic goal than she’d imagined for such a heinous man. She’d always thought that Monarch wanted world domination or infinite riches, but wanting to bring back his wife – well, the mother of his son at least, she didn’t know for sure that they were married, but it seemed likely – that was a more relatable goal than she’d anticipated.

“I’m guessing the price of granting such a Wish would be someone else’s life?” she asked. Marinette had told her the basics of how it worked.

Sass nodded. “Monarch would be able to choose whose life to trade.”

Hm… who would he be okay with…?

Oh.

Oh no.

“Could– could he trade Marinette’s life for his wife’s?” she stammered. While she couldn’t rule out the idea that he might be willing to trade his son’s, it made a lot more sense to her for him to trade the nemesis that he wasn’t actually related to. Even as bad of a father as Monarch was, surely he’d prefer to kill a girl he only knew as an enemy, over his own son. 

“He could, if he ever got his hands on both Miraculous,” Sass confirmed. “Though he has not actually said whose life he would trade for his wife’s.”

Huh. She didn’t know what to make of that. Surely he’d at least thought about it. Maybe he hadn’t decided on who he would sacrifice? Or he was trying not to think about it. Maybe there was room to convince him not to go through with the Wish?

She glanced around at the kwamis in their prison orbs and her own overturned jail. 

Nah, there was no reasoning with this guy, he was nuts.

A mechanical *brrrrrr* sound started up. 

“He’s coming! Quick, hide!” Sass warned.

She looked around wildly, her heart pounding. Why couldn’t Monarch have a super messy lair like a lot of other supervillains, instead of this minimalist crap? Like, surely he could have put in some chairs or a sofa or something so he could sit down and rest after a long day of villainy?

But no. It was dimly lit at least, that was in her favor, but there was barely anything in the massive lair. Seriously, this place was at least half as big as her family’s entire apartment, and it was just empty, cavernous space! The only things in here were the kwamis and her cage, what was she supposed to do with that?

Wait… even overturned, the cage’s roof was taller than her, maybe even taller than Monarch…

In a split-second decision, she hid behind her cage, away from the elevator. Sure, hiding from Monarch in a room with such little stuff may be unlikely, but it’s not like she had much to lose. Besides, this wouldn’t be her first time playing supervillain hide-and-seek. First she hid from Monarch when he was controlling the Bubbler, managing to transform, make an illusion, and sneak out to the bathroom right under his nose, and then later she managed to hide and escape from Shadybug and Claw Noir while they were ransacking Marinette’s room. 

…this happened to her kind of a lot, didn’t it?

“WHAT?!” Monarch shouted. She could imagine him looking wildly around the room, trying to find her. 

She tried not to breathe.

“KWAMIS! WHERE DID THE GIRL GO!” he demanded.

“We- we don’t know, we didn’t see,” Barkk stammered.

Ah, the kwamis must have intentionally looked away as she hid so that they couldn’t be forced to divulge her location to Monarch. Clever.

Monarch growled, his footsteps coming closer.

Quickly, silently, she walked to the side, trying to get the timing just right so he wouldn’t see her go around the corner. 

She must have nailed it, because he let out a curse. “She had to have hacked the elevator somehow! If she got into the mansion–”

He let out a sudden gasp. “Adrien! That’s it! She would have gone to his room, she’d be hiding him!”

She stifled her own horrified gasp. Adrien was not an uncommon name, but an Adrien whose father was a dick, his mother was dead, and the whole family, what was left of it, lived in a mansion? She doubted there was more than one “Adrien” who fit those criteria in the whole of Paris.

Wait, if Adrien was Chat Noir, Marinette was Ladybug, and now they were dating–

Nope, not the time for that, Alya. Concentrate on the supervillain now, deal with the ramifications of identity reveals later. There would be pillows to scream into once this was all over.

*clunk* *eeeeeyoooouuuorr*

She frowned, trying to figure out the noise. It sounded almost mechanical? Actually, it kind of reminded her of some of the sounds she’d heard while being transported through the Alliance ring.

“You won’t get away with this!” a familiar voice declared.

Her heart raced. She’d know her kwami’s voice anywhere. He was alright! Well, as alright as he could be while stuck in that device.

“Oh, I think I will,” Monarch said. She could practically hear him smirking. “The girl may have thought that by telling Adrien my identity, that this was all over. I can feel him now, his grief, his anger, his disbelief. Darkness my akuma can feast on.”

He really would akumatize his own son. Sass had said as much, but she hadn’t wanted to believe it. He wasn’t concerned about Adrien’s welfare at all.

Wait, why was Adrien feeling those emotions? Was it because of Monarch faking her death? Could he not tell the difference between those feelings and the ones Adrien would be having if he found out Monarch’s identity? According to the kwamis, the Butterfly Holder could actually hear some of the thoughts of the people they were scanning. How could Monarch make such a mistake? Something seemed weird here…

“Kaalki! Your power is now mine!” 

She heard a *whoosh* sound, culminating in a yell of, “Voyage, my megakuma!”

This was her chance. That portal would lead out of here.

Jumping up, she got her first glimpse of the portal.

Her hopes came crashing down.

It was far too small and far too high up for her to have any chance of getting through.

“YOU!” Monarch yelled, whipping around to face her.

She thought fast. Sure, SHE couldn’t escape, but that didn’t mean everyone had to be trapped.

Without hesitation, she grabbed Trixx’s orb, hurling it at the portal with all her might, praying that all her experience with dodgeball would pay off.

It went through, the portal shrinking into nothingness a half-second later.

Monarch growled, stalking towards her. “Oh, you will regret that, I will make sure of it.”

She took a deep breath, holding her arms in the boxing pose Nora had drilled into her head. She just needed to hold him off long enough for Ladybug and Chat Noir to arrive.

She hoped they didn’t take long.