#teeth and possibly food poisoning?

[corpsentry]

drawing again btw

[explicit-tae]

when is the next part of ungodly hour please tell me 😫

right here! introudcing a request that a few people has been wanting to see

Ungodly Hour (8)

Fuck Chaeyoung and Jimin for always being able to figure out when something is wrong with you.

word count: 2.684

“Girl,” Chaeyong’s voice says over the phone. It echos off of the bathroom walls. She’s watching you as you violently brush your teeth and in the process of scrubbing your tongue, a look of disgust on your face. Your phone is leaning against one of the toothbrush holders and she appears visibly amused.  “maybe you’re pregnant.”

You choke, feeling yourself ready to vomit again - this time due to Chaeyoung’s words. Your eyes widen and you stare back at your phone for a moment. Spitting the toothpaste and rinsing your mouth, you turn off the water. 

“Don’t,” you say with gritted teeth. “start that shit again.”

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. She’s in the process of making herself a sandwich. She shakes her head as she butters her bread. “You missed your period and you’re throwing up. What else can it be?” Chaeyoung was indeed correct. But, your periods were often irregular so that could never be a sign of pregnancy. You’ve gone two months without it before just for it to come on a random Wednesday work shift.

“I’m on birth control.”

“That’s never 100% effective.” Chaeyoung scoffs. “People get pregnant while on birth control all the time.”

Chaeyoung was right again and you could only sigh. You want to blame your sudden nausea on food poisoning. Maybe something you ate just didn’t sit right with you - that’s always a possibility. Maybe you were just getting sick as the seasons changed. Pregnancy would be the last of your options as anything could be possible.

“Let’s not forget that your boyfriend often has to remind you to take said birth control.”

“Shut up.” you grumble, snatching your phone and making your way out of the bathroom. You hated when Chaeyoung was right because it only meant that your mind would be wandering on the possibilities. 

“I can’t be pregnant now. That means I’ll have a Scorpio.” you murmur, crashing down against Jungkook’s bed, silk sheets inviting you in. “There’s enough birthdays in November as it is. It’ll completely ruin the vibe.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you were being a whore on Valentine’s day.” Chaeyoung sing-songs, her sandwich now complete and she munches onto it happily. “Can’t blame you. Jungkook did go all out like always.”

You’re positive you know just where it all began and like Chaeyoung said, Jungkook had to be the dramatic type that made you want to fuck him. The amount of roses you walked into had to be costly and you’re sure he must’ve bought out half of the store alone. The gifts, the home cooked meals along with the low music, champagne…

“Fuck Jeon Jungkook.” you grumble, throwing your phone beside you so Chaeyoung can see your view - the ceiling and she’s positive you were wallowing in self pity.

Truly, Fuck Jeon Jungkook and the way you can never seem to stay off of him.

It took a week for you to decide to get a pregnancy test that you were sure would be negative regardless. You weren’t going to let Chaeyoung’s words of despair get to you - and you were only taking this test to prove to her (and yourself) that you weren’t pregnant and that whatever is going on with you was just a mere sickness.

The brown paper bag sits on the bathroom counter and has been for hours now. Jungkook wasn’t the one to check what wasn’t his and you’re unsure why you’re hesitant on taking it.

It’s Sunday now and that meant that not only was Jungkook here, but so was Namjoon, Hoseok, Taehyung and Jimin. They gather in the living room, movie blasting throughout the space and you walk by without any of them batting an eye.

All except Jimin as he was the only one who ever wanted to humor you and this fake beef you two held for one another.

“Well, well…you finally decided to join us.” Jimin calls, eyes watching as you make your way towards the kitchen. 

“Fuck off, Jimin.”

Taehyung snorts, allowing a few chuckles to be released.

Jimin looks around, wondering why in the world you could possibly tell him to fuck off out of all people. Of course, he didn't because he was Jimin. This causes him to sit forward and tilt his head.

“You look different.” Jimin notes, eyes taking in your appearance. This causes Jungkook’s head to turn to see whatever it was that Jimin saw.

Jungkook’s eyes being on you causes goosebumps to litter your skin and you desperately want to tell Jimin to fuck off again, but that wouldn’t do any good.

“You look…healthy.” Jimin’s eyes begin to squint a bit, his head tilting to the other side.

“Healthy?” you snicker with a roll of your eyes. “What the fuck did I look before?”

“Ugh, Y/N, shut up.” Jimin stands, making his way around the couch and towards you. You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on you and his friend, but he remains silent. “You look…dare I say glowy.”

You click your tongue inside your mouth. Jimin’s tone is different, almost as if confused. His eyes study you closely.

“If I didn’t know you, Jimin, I would say you’re flirting with me.” you turn away and go towards the box of pizza on the counters. 

Jimin cackles. “As if I would go for anyone like you.” 

“That’s a lot coming from a man like you.” you bite back. “I know exactly what girls you like.”

Jimin swallows back his words, a soft tint to his cheeks. No one was ever going to let him live down what that bitch said. “I pay for Onlyfan’s once and suddenly I’m the one being laughed at.” he grumbles to himself.

“I actually like her. She humbles you and it’s exactly what you need.” you open a box of pizza - pepperoni. You grab at it and inhale, the smell reaches your nose and instantly you drop it right back into the box.

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow at your actions, watching you closely. His arms begin to cross and it’s as if alarm bells were going off in his head. 

“You little slut.” Jimin smirks.

Your stomach churns and you can feel the increase of saliva inside your mouth. You let out a shaky breath.

“You…that’s why you look so glowy. It’s too soon to look like this now…” Jimin speaks - mainly to himself. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

It happens entirely too fast and maybe this was just Jimin’s karma for annoying you constantly. You appear to be stuck, completely frozen in place, when you vomit entirely onto him. The man screeches and gags at the warm vomit hitting his chest. 

Jungkook is on his feet immediately, coming to your side. He places a hand onto your back, a look of concern on his face. “Y/N? Baby, are you okay?”

“What the fuck?!” Jimin hisses, eyes wide with disbelief. “I’m the one with stomach acid on me! Can someone ask if I’m okay?”

“This isn’t about you right now.” Jungkook waves him off. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“She…oh wow.” Jimin watches in disbelief as Jungkook ushers you away. His shirt sticks to him sickeningly. 

Hoseok is the first to laugh, shaking his head at Jimin. 

“What just happened?” Namjoon questions.

Now you feel like crying out of embarrassment as Jungkook brings you into the bathroom. “Do  you still need to throw up? Was it something you ate earlier?” he asks, his mind going on a thousand different possibilities on how you could be sick right now. 

“N-No, I’m fine.” you murmur, pushing yourself away from him and going to brush your teeth again. Your body is hot - mainly due to humiliation of having vomited on Jimin. You wouldn’t be this embarrassed if it was just Jimin there, because well, fuck him. But the other’s…

You groan, scrubbing the taste of vomit out of your mouth.

Jungkook watches closely. 

“You’re not fine. Are you sick?” he questions. “You probably need some medicine.”

Jungkook looks around the bathroom for a moment, his eyes dropping on the brown paper bag that’s folded in half. He looks at it for a moment. “Is this medicine you got earlier or-”

“No!”

It isn’t your intention to snatch the bag out of his hands the way you do. Jungkook is taken aback by your actions, eyes widening slightly. He takes a step back, apologetic about touching something that wasn’t his. 

“I-I mean-”

“It’s okay.” Jungkook shakes his head. He swallows. “I’m…going to clean up out there. I’ll be back.”

Jungkook leaves the bathroom and now you feel worse than before. You shut off the water and groan.

You don’t want Jungkook to think that him trying to help was a bad decision. The paper bag is crumbling in your grasp and it’s a sign that you can no longer put off the contents on what’s inside of it.

You were a grown woman and a little pregnancy test shouldn’t scare you. You’ve dealt with tougher scenarios and this was outside of your character. Your mother didn’t raise you to be a scared bitch.

So you took the test - ripping the bag open entirely and then the rectangular box. It happens all under a minute and you realize this is the first time you ever took a pregnancy test.

You placed the top onto the test and put it on top of the brown paper bag as you await for what it says.

“Five minutes…” you murmur to yourself.

Jungkook doesn’t expect to see you so soon. He’s cleaning up a bit of vomit from the floor when you enter the kitchen. He had already managed to get everyone out of the home as Jimin ripped off the shirt and hurled it into the trash before exiting himself. He offers a smile your way. “Feeling better?”

“I’m such a bitch.” you sigh with a shake of your head.

Jungkook snickers. “What do you mean?” he asks. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Shut up and stop being so nice.” you grumble. “I shouldn’t have acted that way in the bathroom. I’m just…” you inhale deeply. Your mother would have surely given you a mouth full if she saw the way you treated her precious Jungkook.

Jungkook continues to clean the rest of the mess before turning back to you. He notices you’re completely still, watching his every move. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jungkook takes a few steps closer to you. “You got a fever or something?”

Jungkook’s hands are soft but a bit cool to the touch. He touches your forehead and rubs it down towards your cheek. 

“You don’t feel warm.” Jungkook comments. “I…” you trail off, unable to shake the look of Jungkook’s eyes off of you. “...my mother didn’t raise a scared bitch.” you repeat the same words aloud and it causes Jungkook to laugh.

“What do you mean-”

“I might be pregnant.” you interrupt him, needing to get the weight off of your shoulders. And you’re surprised that it did. You exhale with a raise of your brows. “That was easier than I thought it’d be.”

You look Jungkook in the eye, his doe ones staring intently back at you.

“I took a test.” you continue. “That’s what was inside the brown paper bag and why I snatched it the way I did.”

For once Jungkook is silent and it causes your stomach to churn again - this time with nerves. He’s so silent that you’re unable to read his expression.

Standing in front of him becomes a bit awkward and you’re anxious to get out of this situation entirely. 

“I’m gonna go…” you go to move yourself and this is what causes Jungkook to snap himself back into reality.

“I was processing your words.” Jungkook shakes his head, dropping his hand from your cheek. “Sorry…” he murmurs, blinking a few times. “...How long have you…suspected it?”

You take a deep breath then scoff. “I’ve been in denial. With Chaeyoung and Jimin it’s hard to not face reality.”

Jungkook hums, he suppose that’s why you threw up on Jimin so suddenly.

“I can’t read you.” you murmur, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze. “You’re usually…more readable.”

“Would you be upset if you were pregnant right now?”

Now that you had admitted to him that there was a possibility of pregnancy, he wants to be open with you. He wants to hear your thoughts and feelings about the situation. 

“It’s not ideal.” you shrug your shoulders, pondering on the question. “Would you?” “No.” Jungkook admits. “Of course not. I love you.”

You sigh. Fuck Jeon Jungkook and how understanding he was.

“But I also know this isn’t something you want…” Jungkook lets his hand touch your cheek once more and now you allow your eyes to meet his. 

“Well, duh.” you scoff. “I still haven’t met your parents. They're going to think I’m a whore if I just show up pregnant.” you’re only half joking but just the thought of meeting his parents and having to deliver news of a pregnancy just sounded backwards.

“They wouldn’t!” Jungkook insists. “My mom’s been dying to meet you.” he admits. He had to convince his mother countless times to not just show up randomly at his home and take matters into her own hands. “I've just been waiting for you to be ready. There isn’t a rush.”

Jungkook’s thumb traces the outline of your lips. He smiles down at you.

“Stop smiling. You’re supposed to be…”

Jungkook furrows a brow. “Suppose to be what? Mad?” he snorts - it’s almost as if you didn’t know him entirely. He had already planned the wedding in his mind and exactly how many kids he wanted to have with you (if you allowed). 

“Well I wasn’t expecting you to look so fucking excited, either.” you hiss, lightly pushing at his chest. “The test can be negative, you know. It could be fatigue or my blood sugar could be high or low…”

Jungkook nods his head at your words, listening to you. “Or, you can be pregnant,” he states. “Either or, I want what’s best for you. One step at a time.”

You nod your head at him and allow your cheek to nestle into his palm. 

“We can check together.” Jungkook leans closer to you, his nose tickling yours. “And we’ll do what we need to do from there.”

Jungkook pecks your lips in a comforting kiss. It’s weird to see how domesticated the two of you are - how comfortable. You would’ve never seen yourself entertaining someone like Jungkook a year ago, but now you and he are together constantly. You feel at home when you’re  around him; at ease when you’re in his warm embrace. Your heart is full whenever you’re around him and it yearns whenever you’re away for too long.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and the way he has made you soft for him; this wasn’t suppose to be. You were supposed to finish college as independently as possible and focus on a career until you decided you were ready to entertain anyone.

How the tables truly turned.

“I’m scared.”

Jungkook wraps his arms around you, chin resting on your shoulder. The test is a few feet away and none of you can see the answer on it just yet.

“This is the first time you’ve admitted you are scared.” Jungkook teases. “I thought your mother didn’t raise a scared bitch.”

“Fuck you.”

“I did and this is why we’re in this predicament.” Jungkook retorts coolly. “We’ll check together, okay?”

“Okay.” you nod your head. 

Jungkook and you step further into the bathroom and you grab the test. You turn around to face him, looking into his anticipating eyes. “So…do we both look or do I look and tell you or-”

“You’re procrastinating again, baby.” Jungkook places his hand on top of yours. “We’ll look together.”

Jungkook’s eyes lowers to the test in your hands just as yours does. The test tightens in your grasp as you look down at the letters on the small screen.

See the Future (Final Part)

@minaamhh @suciedad-divina @satisfied18 @y2k5bby @petalsofink @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx @tasha-0795 @busanbby-jjk @joonlover1207 @hollowtree11 @amberpanda99 @parkinglot-nights @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @hoseokteardrop @jingerbreadoutofstock @subtaegguk @ultimatebasura

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏

Toji Fushiguro

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[Chapter 20] Anniversary

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (f. receiving), creampie

*it's the last chapter, thank you all so much for sticking through my loves, I hope you all enjoyed🥹❤️

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

As time passes, your relationship with Toji develops more and more until Toji finally proposes with a gorgeous ring. You move in with him shortly after, and within a month, you go to the courthouse and get married. You make changes to his new home, you buy new furniture to make it more cozy.

You try to fix everything that you can in a year, and you would’ve fixed more if it weren’t for the fact that one morning you woke up with the worst food poisoning. A food poisoning that lasted for a week, so much so that your husband decided he needed to take you to the emergency room. Five-year-old Megumi was beyond worried for his stepmother when he saw her get this sick. 

Frankly, everyone in the house was scared, expecting the worst possible outcome. But you got the best news of your life– The most confusing and shocking one at that, but regardless, great news.

“You’re pregnant, Mrs. Fushiguro.” Which caused Toji to engulf you in a hug that nearly left you out of breath. You weren’t really trying… But you weren’t being safe either considering you’ve had problems in the past. You weren’t planning on trying so soon, but the news didn’t really upset you either.

Breaking the news to Megumi that he was going to be a big brother wasn’t easy… At first he was confused, then he got jealous, and in the last month of your pregnancy he was overprotective and worried about being the best big brother that he could possibly be. And you knew Megumi would be well behaved when the baby came along, but you never expected him to be a literal angel. 

Megumi just tries to be the best big brother to his little brother, trying to be the best role model to Chiyo. He wants to help with everything that’s baby related, even asking if he can help feed and change Chiyo’s diapers. And as his baby brother grows, he attempts to teach him new stuff. He insists on teaching him how to talk, his main priority is getting his baby brother to say his name.

“Say ‘Megumi’.” Seven-year-old Megumi is trying to get his one year old baby brother to say his name. The plan was for Chiyo’s first words to be his dear older brother’s name, but that didn’t work out.

“Are you still trying that, Megumi?” Toji asks, picking up Chiyo from his playpen. Megumi whines, mad that his father is taking Chiyo away. “I’m going to give him a bath before your mommy wakes up.”

“Why now? Can’t you wait some more time, daddy?” Megumi responds, and Toji shakes his head which makes Megumi pout. What’s the point of even giving him a bath? Chiyo doesn’t even run or play in the dirt. Of course, he’s not thinking that Chiyo gets dirty in different ways.

“I’ll teach him how to say Megumi while giving him a bath. You should try to do the same, Megumi. Try to look nice for your mommy today.” Toji tells Megumi before walking away and to the bathroom that’s connected to his room. Toji has the biggest smile as he stares at his baby boy. Toji lightly pinches Chiyo’s chubby cheek with a smile on his face, causing Chiyo to show off his little teeth back, and Toji’s heart overflows with joy.

Toji never really thought that he’d relive moments like these. He never planned to marry or have more kids, so he thought that he would never experience this again. But you came along, and his plans completely shifted course. He’s married again, with a stinky one year old. His family is officially complete, and he’s happy. He won’t lie and say that he wasn’t a bit underwhelmed with the news that he was having a boy, but he’s happy with the outcome. Chiyo is the perfect baby, although a bit of a crybaby.

“I just love you. You’re the cutest.” Toji says before kissing his baby’s cheek. He’s almost Megumi’s clone, but thankfully for you, he inherited some of your features. Was he really set on not having more kids? Right now, that thought seems incomprehensible. 

Toji tries to be as quiet as possible when giving Chiyo a bath, even though the baby squeals in the water. Toji doesn’t want to wake you up yet, he wants to make sure everything is perfect before you wake up. Toji chuckles, “C’mon, Chiyo. Don’t wake up your mommy, she needs her beauty rest.”

When he’s done with Chiyo, he puts the baby in his cutest outfit. He’ll make sure to put Megumi in his cutest matching outfit too, he wants to make sure everything is perfect for you. Usually mornings are a bit hectic for your family, but he’s going to make sure you don’t have to deal with any of that today.

“Megumi, wear your matching pink outfit with Chiyo!” Toji yells, causing Chiyo’s bottom lip to quiver at the loud sound. Toji notices his son is about to cry so he begins to bounce the baby, kissing the temple of his head. “Now, don’t cry, Chiyo. It was to your brother, I wouldn’t yell at you.”

But that doesn’t stop Chiyo from crying. Toji tries his best to calm down the baby before you wake up, but it only takes a singular cry from you to be awakened from your slumber. Ever since having your baby, you’ve become a light sleeper. It’s shocking to Toji how you didn’t wake up during Chiyo’s bath, but he also knows you’re extremely tired.

“Oh my– He’s just so cute!” You immediately exclaim when you see Chiyo in his outfit. When he sees you, he cries even harder because he wants to be in your arms. You chuckle, taking him from Toji as you peck Toji’s lips before saying, “Happy anniversary, love.”

“Happy anniversary, baby.” Toji responds as you take Chiyo from his arms. And just when you thought you had seen the cutest thing, Megumi walks out wearing the same outfit, and you squeal, so happy that your boys are matching. You walk over to him and fill his face with kisses.

“You two are just the cutest, my heart can’t take it.” You say, and Megumi’s brows furrow.

“I’m not cute.” Megumi claims, crossing his arms, causing you to chuckle. One morning, your baby woke up and he decided he didn’t want to be called cute anymore, he was too old for it. Now whenever you compliment him, he gets upset.

“You’re right, you’re not.” Is the biggest lie that leaves your lips. He’s the cutest. Megumi walks over to the couch with his arms crossed, his day nearly ruined because he was called cute. 

“Ah–” Chiyo’s little arm extends out, his fist opening and closing, motioning that he wants his big brother. You put the baby on the floor, letting him walk to Megumi. The three of you watch him, while Toji puts his arms around your waist. 

“How’d you sleep, love?” Toji asks, and you look up at him with a smile on your lips. You slept like never before because Toji took care of everything, and he put his weight on you which made it impossible for you to get out of bed. You actually rested for the first time in a while.

“Amazing, thanks to you.” You answer, and he kisses the tip of your nose before letting go and going to the kitchen. The plan was to make a lovely somewhat romantic breakfast for you before you woke up, however, that clearly didn’t happen. You watch Toji put on an apron, and you can’t help but ask, “Do you want me to take over so you can watch over the boys?”

“Nope, you can sit back and relax. I’ll make sure to make the best possible breakfast.” He says, and you try your best to give him a sweet smile even though you’re not all that excited. Toji isn’t a great cook at all.

“Do you know what Toji is going to cook?” You ask Megumi, and he furrows his brows as he turns his head to look at you. 

“Daddy’s cooking?” His voice is filled with concern. There was a point where all he had to eat was Toji’s horrible cooking, but he got used to what you fed him, and now his head can’t wrap around the thought of eating something by Toji.

“How about I ask him to go out to breakfast?” You ask, knowing that you’ll also be going out to dinner. Just not with your kids. Toji’s a simple guy with simple rules, one of them being if you’re going out to dinner, you can’t go out for breakfast and vice versa. However, you have a feeling that today is going to be different because it’s your anniversary. Toji simply can’t say no.

“Please, mom.” Megumi sounds desperate, and you can’t help but understand it. Last time Toji cooked, you swore you were going to get food poisoning, but neither of you had the heart to tell Toji that his cooking skills simply sucked.

“Alright, I’ll ask him.” You respond, standing up from the couch and walking over to your husband. He’s cracking some eggs into a bowl, pulling out the little bits of shell with his fingers. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing a kiss on his shoulder. “Baby…”

“What? I’m focused.” Toji sounds slightly annoyed, almost as if he knows that you’re about to ask him to go out for breakfast. 

“How about we go out for breakfast? Our favorite place. I swear Chiyo was trying to say pancake, and you know those are his favorite.” You say, and Toji rolls his eyes. He’s been picking up that you and the kids don’t like his cooking. He’s just waiting for you to directly say it.

“The baby won’t be able to tell the difference between those pancakes and my own. We’ll be fine.” Toji argues.

“Trust me, he’ll be able to tell the difference.” You respond, and Toji turns to look at you. He has a frown on his face, and you know that he knows. You peck his lips before telling him, “Your cooking kind of sucks, honey.”

“You finally have the balls to say it.” Toji sighs. You let go of him, and he walks to the sink to wash his hands. “Go change, we’re going.”

“I love you.” You invade his space again to kiss his cheek.

“I love you too, I guess.”

“Are you liking your pancakes, buddy?” Toji asks as he looks at Megumi. His mouth waters at the sight, and he regrets being petty and not getting anything. Regardless, he won��t order anything. He knows that Chiyo is enjoying his breakfast because he’s making a mess as he tries to grab the next piece.

“It’s good.” Megumi answers, which isn’t exactly what Toji wanted to hear. He was expecting more of a Would you like some, dad? or I’m full, you can have the rest. You know that Toji is waiting for someone that isn’t going to finish their food so he can finish what’s leftover, but that’s not happening. Megumi is most certainly finishing his pancakes, and so is the baby who is trying to stuff his tiny mouth with pancakes.

“I’m full. Eat the leftovers for me, Toji.” You slide your plate to his side, and Toji doesn’t even bother asking if you’re sure. He begins to eat all the food on the plate, and you hold back a laugh. You focus on your baby, who’s greedily eating. You watch the three boys eat, and they all eat in the same manner. You hate to see how strong Toji’s genes are.

“Can we watch a movie tonight?” Megumi asks, taking a break from chewing and sipping on his orange juice. 

“Your mom and I are going out, you can watch it with the babysitter.” Toji answers, and Megumi pouts. He thought that since it’s a Saturday he could stay up a bit late and watch something with the two of you, but you clearly have other plans that don’t involve him. 

“We can watch it when we get home. We have nothing to do this afternoon.” You smile at Megumi, and his pout goes away. He smiles at you, showing off his two missing front teeth. Your palm goes to his chin, your fingers squishing his cheeks before kissing the top of his head. Your attention goes to Toji, who managed to ravish the plate in a matter of minutes. You tease him, “Are you sure you weren’t hungry?”

“Focus on your baby who is making a mess.” Toji answers, shaking his head in Chiyo’s direction. You glare at Toji before rolling your eyes. He should also pay attention to Chiyo since you didn’t procreate alone. You grab a napkin to wipe off Chiyo’s face while Toji takes a sip of your drink. The man is too prideful to even get water, leaving him to drink from your own beverage.

“What do my boys think if we leave daddy behind to be lonely and miserable all afternoon?” You ask, making Toji click his tongue. Megumi ignores it, not wanting to hurt his father’s feelings, while also not wanting to refuse your offer. You get up from your seat to get Chiyo out of the high chair, putting him on your lap as you sit down again. 

“Me–” Chiyo notices his older brother and tries to call out for him. Of course, he can’t pronounce the name. All he manages to do is get out the first syllable, and Megumi’s eyes go wide. He’s trying. Most of the time the baby doesn’t even bother paying attention to him.

“Megumi, say it, Chiyo. It’s Megumi.” Megumi seems so excited when his baby brother somewhat tries to say his name. Chiyo gives up though, but the first syllable is good enough for Megumi.

“He’ll get it next time, buddy.” Toji says, but Megumi is already happy with the little he’s getting. 

Toji is tasked with trying to get Chiyo to sleep while you get ready for your date. The task is to make the babysitter’s job easier since Chiyo begins to get fussy when he’s tired at night, and he’s difficult to put to bed. Toji rocks him back and forth, hoping that it’ll work for him.

Megumi notices the light of his brother’s nursery is turned on, so he walks in with Chiyo’s favorite book. Toji immediately notices what he holds, and he shakes his head, “Not now, Megumi. Chiyo has to sleep.”

“If I read it for him he'll fall asleep.” Megumi claims, and Toji sighs. He might as well since Chiyo isn’t falling asleep. Toji puts Chiyo down on his lap while he picks up Megumi and puts him down on his other lap.  Megumi opens the book, putting it in Chiyo’s view before very slowly reading.

“In the… light of the moon a… little egg lay on a leaf.” Megumi begins and Chiyo begins to get excited at the pictures in the book. Toji knows this isn’t a good idea, but he’ll leave it for you to handle since you always know the trick of getting the baby to fall asleep. If Toji is being serious, he’s the one that’s falling asleep as Megumi reads.

“What are the three of you doing?” You ask when you step into the nursery, watching your husband fight back his heavy eyes. His eyes shoot wide open, and he puts Megumi down, before standing up and handing the baby to you. You can deal with him on your own.

“Going to change, you can get him to fall asleep.” Toji says, and you’re happy to take your baby, however you’re upset because he didn’t even bother to compliment you on your outfit when you walked into the nursery.

“Did you check what you wanted for dinner, baby? So I can tell the babysitter.” You tell Megumi, who shakes his head in response. You’re happy that he does, knowing that you can tell him to go away without an issue. While you adore your baby Megumi, Chiyo won’t sleep if Megumi is right there. “Can you go check while I put your baby brother to bed?”

“But–” Megumi begins, but he stops himself before nodding in agreement. Putting Chiyo to bed isn’t all that exciting anyway. He contributed like he could, and Chiyo is still awake. When Megumi leaves, you sit on the rocking chair and cradle your baby boy.

You kiss the top of his head, looking so adoringly at your baby. His hand goes up to his mouth, sucking his thumb between his teeth. Him and Megumi are the best thing that has happened to you. There was a time in your life that you didn’t think you would have this, but luckily Toji came along. You moved to the right place.

“Aren’t you the cutest?” Sometimes you can’t help but think about Kento, and how he wanted this for himself one day. You can’t help but feel guilty about it sometimes. Toji reassures you though, telling you that it would be unfair for you to stop living your life after everything. Just by hearing the stories about him, Toji knows that Kento would’ve wanted you to move on.

You begin to hum a lullaby to your baby. It takes you less than ten minutes to make Chiyo fall asleep.

You spend the rest of your time with Megumi, helping him decide what to pick. He’s a little indecisive about it, and you see him stressing which makes you assure him that he can pick multiple things. Megumi moves into your embrace on the couch before resting his head on your lap, “Can’t you stay tonight?”

“Your dad planned something special for our anniversary, honey… But I promise tomorrow we’ll spend the entire day together.” You tell him, and Megumi pouts. At least you’ll spend your day together tomorrow, but that seems so far away right now. You lower your voice, just in case Toji is listening, “You can stay up late tonight, baby. I give you my permission.”

That makes the pout go away. No bedtime? He’s in. You can stay away for as long as you want as long as he doesn’t have to go to sleep early. 

“Love, are you ready?!” Toji shouts before exiting your bedroom and finding you on the couch with Megumi. Both of you shush him since the baby is sleeping and neither of you want him to wake up. “Ah, look at you.”

“Look at me? I’ve been ready, Toji. You didn’t even bother to compliment me.” You tell him, and Toji furrows his brows. Maybe he was so annoyed that Chiyo wasn’t sleeping that he completely forgot to give you your due compliments. 

“I’m so sorry, love. You know–” He begins, and you huff, crossing your arms. The first words to leave his lips should be a compliment, not an apology. Megumi sits up before telling you,

“You look so beautiful, mom.” Which shows his father how to continue.

“You look stunning tonight, honey.” Toji says, but it’s a little too late for it. You side eye him before focusing your attention on Megumi. A sigh leaves his lips before going to the couch to sit with him.

“You smell good.” You move Toji’s hand from your thigh, putting his wrist to your nose. He rarely wears cologne, but when he does, you can’t stop smelling him.

“Only for you.” He takes his eyes off the road for a moment to shoot a smile your way. You kiss his knuckles before placing his hand back on your thigh. He squeezes your thigh before his hand goes to the radio to change the music. 

Toji’s way to celebrate tonight was making a special reservation in a restaurant that’s somewhat out of your budget. You’re excited about it, but you’re more excited about having some alone time with your husband. Spending some quality time alone is rare nowadays, because either Megumi or Chiyo need you. 

“I’m still somewhat mad at you.” You confess, and he raises his brows. 

“Why, my love?” He responds, and you let out a puff. How can he not know what he did? 

“You didn’t immediately compliment me the moment you saw me, how dare you?” You reply and he can’t help but laugh. Of course it’s that, he really thought it was something more serious. You still glare at him, “Does this sound like some joke to you? I’m so serious right now, Toji.”

“I’m so sorry, honey. You’re so right. I should’ve started to worship the ground that you walk on.” He answers, and that’s a much better answer. It earns a chuckle from you, and his heart flutters. He really thinks he should worship the ground you walk on, and he’s a fool for not doing so.

“You’re learning. Slowly but surely.” You respond, and he grabs your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours before he brings your hand to his lips. He kisses your hand a couple of times before bringing it down to rest on his lap.

“It’s nice to drive without a screaming demon in the back.” Toji shares, and you can’t help but chuckle before defending your baby.

“It’s not his fault you drive like a madman, I’m scared too.” You tell him, and he can’t help but feel offended. 

“Madman? You just drive like a granny, sorry to tell you.” He feels your eyes burn into his skull, and he regrets the words just as they leave his lips. He had great plans for tonight, ones that ended with the two of you having sex. He doubts that it’s going to happen now. He exaggerates a laugh before saying, “I got you! I was just playing!”

“Right, haha. So funny, Toji.” You roll your eyes, taking your hand back. There goes his perfect plan, withering away because of his own words– He can make it up to you though. He’ll make sure to make it up to you.

When you get to the restaurant, Toji opens each door for you and pulls your chair back so you can take a seat. He’s sweeter than ever because it’s your anniversary. While he’s a great husband, he doesn’t do this daily. You look over the menu, trying to figure out what you want to eat tonight, and it’s a hard decision because everything seems delicious. You don’t get to eat something so different every night since most nights you’re trying to get Megumi to actually eat your food. The hardest part about being a mom has to be making your kids eat. You swear, the older Megumi gets, the more picky he is with his food.

“Have you picked?” Toji asks, even though you haven’t had the menu in your hand for even a minute. He’s so impatient when it comes to other people, and it irks you sometimes. You knew you didn’t marry a patient man, but would it kill him to wait a minute? He couldn’t have possibly figured it out so quickly. 

“We just sat down, Toji. Give me a minute.” You respond. He sighs and you look up at him, giving him a nasty look which makes him pout. “We just sat down. If you’re going to–”

“My bad.” He cuts you off, and you scoff. He really isn’t thinking his words wisely. He knows better than to interrupt you. You don’t understand why he’s in such a rush for you to pick, he’s not that hungry, is he?

The waiter comes back and takes your order, and you fully focus on your husband. You almost start giggling like a schoolgirl when you realize just how handsome he looks tonight. You rarely see him dressed up, so it’s definitely a rare but nice sight. He notices how you’re staring at him with dreamy eyes, and he can’t help but joke, “Damn, keep it in your pants.”

“And if you don’t start being nicer, I just might.” You respond, and he can tell you’re serious.

“You know I’m just joking, baby. Please undress me with your eyes.” He tells you. You keep looking at him with loving eyes, even if he doesn’t deserve it. “Do I look good, baby?”

“You look decent, I guess.” You shrug. He chuckles, finding it hilarious that you’re mad at him. It just makes you look so cute.

“Decent? I guess I should’ve put more effort since my wife looks like a goddess.” Toji comments and you nod in agreement before you cross your arms.

“Yeah, your poor wife… Stuck with a loser.” You say, making him click his tongue. He shakes his head disapprovingly before a chuckle leaves his lips. It’s what he’s been asking for. It’s not that he minds, you can insult him in every way and he’ll thank you for even acknowledging him. You can’t help but laugh at yourself before saying, “On a real note, thank you for dinner, honey. This place looks really nice.”

“It’ll cost me an arm and a leg… But anything for you.” He responds. He saved up for this, but it’ll still hurt to pay the bill. He also bought you a little present– But he can’t really complain too much, it’s what you deserve.

“You can always go back to escorting.” You joke, but Toji isn’t a big fan of the joke. You defend yourself, “C’mon, it’s funny.”

“You’re too jealous, don’t even try to joke about it.” Toji argues, and for once, he’s right. You still roll your eyes at him. You begin to talk about other insignificant stuff, topics that make you laugh until your food finally gets to your table. 

What’s marriage without sharing? Meaning, you steal some of his food so he has to steal some of yours to get even. But you keep eating his food because for some reason it tastes better, and the man gets irritated, and he wants to tell you to stop but he doesn’t have the heart to. He has other ways of telling you, he looks at you funny. 

“Your food tastes so good, honey. I should’ve ordered that.” You comment and Toji sighs. He takes your plate and gives you his. Your food isn’t all that bad anyways so he isn’t exactly upset about switching. It’s truly the least he can do for you. 

“Can I ask you a serious question?” Toji speaks up when you finish eating. You look at him completely worried, and you nod in response. “Why do you always have to eat my food?”

“I don’t know, Toji. Why did I have to carry your child for nine months? Why am I raising two of your kids?” You question, and it takes everything in you not to pull out the fact that you’re the favorite parent. But Toji fully believes that you are, and you don’t want to hurt his feelings. You’re just generally sweeter to the boys, while Toji looks serious most of the time, so they go to you whenever they need something. Toji is jealous of that, but he doesn’t realize just how excited they are whenever he gets home.

“Because they’re your kids too, I don’t know.” Toji sighs. He never wins in this type of situation. “Just eat all my food, fine.”

“Do you want dessert?” You ask him, slightly changing the topic, and he shakes his head. Toji always wants dessert, now this is something odd.

“You’re just going to eat it all too.” The words slip out of his lips and the grown man slaps his hand over his mouth. Did he just say that? He has some kind of death wish. For fuck’s sake, it’s your anniversary, he’s planning to have sex with you but he surely ruined all the chances he had. 

“Oh?” You glare at him. You grab the cloth napkin that’s on your thighs and set it down on the table. Toji knows he fucked up. 

Even though Toji ordered dessert for you to eat, you refused to eat it. He even changes his tone, trying to feed you as if you were your son. He softened his tone and was too sweet that you were almost convinced your husband was possessed by a spirit. He didn’t plan on getting home so fast, but it’s fine. The kids are sleeping, he still has you all to himself.

“Honey, I have a gift for you.” Toji speaks up as he watches you take off your makeup in the bathroom. You raise your eyebrows, and you almost roll your eyes at the thought of what he insinuates. However, when Toji approaches you, he holds a small box. 

“What is it?” You stop what you do and give him your complete attention. He grabs your hand, trying to fight back the smile that threatens to come onto his lips. He proceeds to take off your wedding ring.

“You remember when we got married with the cheap rings and I promised that I would buy you a better ring when we were better off.” Toji opens the little box to show off the matching wedding bands he bought. The frown on your face goes away and you feel yourself get emotional. Toji promised he would buy it by your first wedding anniversary, but then you had your son so you couldn’t really spend money on insignificant items such as jewelry.

He puts on the new wedding band on your finger, and you look at it in awe. Maybe you were overreacting. Toji kisses your lips before apologizing, “Sorry for being mean to you, my love.”

“And?” You say as you grab the box from his hands. You take off his wedding ring and put it down on the sink counter.

“And I love you so much. And you’re so beautiful and I love when you take all my food.” You smile at him, putting on his new wedding band. You would’ve been totally fine with all his petty comments if he had given you the gift earlier.

“I love you too, Toji.” Your hands go behind his neck and you kiss him. He kisses you back so lovingly, happy that you’re not mad at him anymore. At least it doesn’t seem like you are. He kisses you over and over again, until his lips go to your cheek and then down your neck. 

You begin to step towards the bed, slowly because Toji doesn’t want to pull away. When he does pull away, it’s to undress you and make you sit down on the bed. He does a double take to check that the door is closed, and when he does, he begins to kiss your body.

There’s so much of you to kiss but he only has a pair of lips. He just wants to love every part of your body. He gets on the floor and spreads your legs apart. He begins by kissing your cunt then licking up your folds. His tongue then focuses on your clit.

Two fingers begin to tease your entrance. You’re looking down at his hair while he eats you out. Your fingers run through his hair, and you grip when he finally inserts his thick fingers inside of you. You can never get tired of him, he’s just too perfect for you. 

Toji begins to hum, telling you how he’s enjoying this. He fucking loves the taste that’s on his tongue. He loves eating you out so much, he does it every chance he gets. 

He curves his fingers, and it feels like he knows your body. The pads of his fingers press against your sweet spot, and it causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. This is the best way to apologize after being such an ass. 

“Oh, Toji, it’s so good.” You moan before your hand goes over your mouth. It’ll take a storm to wake up your kids, but you’d rather not risk it. It doesn’t take too long for your orgasm to build up, that pressure builds up on your lower abdomen.

He sucks on your clit, and as he hears how you get louder and he detaches himself from your cunt. His thumb plays with your clit while he comments, “I fucking love your pussy, baby.”

“You look so pretty.” He loves to compliment you while he makes you feel so good.. His eyes are glued to your face, watching every single one of your expressions. Your hands grip the bed sheets, your body shaking as you reach your climax. 

He takes his fingers out, rising from the floor to kiss you. When he pulls away, you turn around. Your upper body presses against the bed while your ass is up in the air. Toji smacks your ass  as he unzips his pants. He grabs his cock and strokes it a couple of times. You feel the tip run through your folds. Your hands grip the bed sheets as he pushes his dick into you. He does so slowly, and when he bottoms out, he gives you a minute to adjust.

His hands go to your hips, his nails digging into your skin. He begins to move, and you’re weak. He smacks your eyes a couple of times as he begins to move.

“You feel so good, baby.” He says through gritted teeth. Fuck, he can never get tired of this. He fucking hates that even though you’re married and you can’t do this every night. Curse the day he decided to have kids.

You’re euphoric with each movement, he’s just so perfect. Your head buries in the mattress, suppressing all the moans that leave your lips. Your hand goes under to play with your clit, desperate for another orgasm. You’re making a mess all over his cock, and he’s loving it. You’re just so perfect for him.

When you slightly raise your head his arm reaches over, his finger hooking under your cheek and pulling and it drives you wild. Toji’s thrusts keep picking up speed, and you’re meeting his thrusts half way. Your walls tighten around him, and it takes everything in him to not lose control. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“Oh god–” You try your best to be quiet but it’s almost impossible. He takes his finger out of your mouth. You keep your head pressed against the mattress. His name comes muffled coming from your lips as the mattress drowns them out. You finally reach your climax, your legs quivering. 

He keeps cursing over and over again, the man is nearly out of breath. His thrusts get sloppy. You feel so nice around him… He really wants to stay buried deep inside your pussy since the man doesn’t know the next time that he’ll get to do this again.

The man comes to a sudden stop, throwing his head back as he releases himself inside of you. When he makes sure every single drop of cum is inside of you, he pulls out. Toji plops down on the bed, and you cuddle up next to each other. He grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it.

“Happy anniversary, love. I love you.” He says, and you smile at him. You never thought you’d be here, especially with your neighbor of all people. Although you do want to strangle him at times. 

“I love you too, Toji.” And you can’t help but chuckle, remembering the first time you slept together, and how he immediately told you that you shouldn’t let it get to your head. Now he’s completely whipped, and you have to deal with him… While also being completely head over heels for him. 

“Can I ask you a question…” He begins, and you hum in response. He sounds weird, so you begin to worry. “If Kento came back to life–”

“If your late wife came back to life–” You cut him off, because you absolutely hate the question.

“Okay, it’s out of line” He admits before you can finish the same question.

“To be fair, we wouldn’t be together because we wouldn’t have crossed paths. Not because we wouldn’t have fallen in love…” You respond, and he can’t help but agree. Thankfully, he’s not put in that messy situation. 

He brings you closer, kissing the top of your head lovingly. Your eyes begin to get heavy after a long night, and his warmth doesn’t help you. Until you hear the shrill cries of your youngest son, forcing you to sit up, “Get the baby while I clean up.”

“You got it, my love.”

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Request: Bucky had a bad day at work and his girlfriend (the reader) tries to comfort him and he yells at her without realizing it and makes her cry and she gives him the silent treatment and he buys her flowers to show her how sorry he is and tells her how much he loves her

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: harsh words, angsty feelings, mentions of death

It wasn't easy being the person sitting at home waiting. The days were long and the nights even longer. Tonight was no different. He didn't get home until 1am but it was your day off and you'd had a lie in, so you were happy to sit on the sofa and wait up. Even though Bucky had specifically told you not to wait for him when he had texted that they had gotten back safely to base camp.

You looked at your watch for the umpteenth time. Debriefs normally never took this long and you hoped that there wasn't a problem. A myriad of possibilities ran through your mind about the reasons for his delay. What if he was hungry? What if he was thirsty? He would definitely be tired. You didn't want to think about the possibility of injury.

Instead of letting the cacophony of thoughts overwhelm you, you decided to get up and put together a few food and drink options in case Bucky did want something before bed.

You'd just laid out his favorite muffin on a plate when you heard the key in the front door and your disheveled boyfriend trudged into the apartment. He froze suddenly at the sight of you in his kitchen.

“What’re you doing here?” His voice was strained, almost like he wasn't expecting to see you.

“I know you said not to wait for you, but I thought you might be hungry… or thirsty,” you shrugged. “I made-”

Your voice tapered off as you saw the scowl on his face. His jaw moved from side to side before he chose to walk away silently. Bucky stalked into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

You were left standing in a state of bewilderment, drowning in a state of inner turmoil. Had you said or done something to upset him? In an attempt to calm your mind, you tried to tidy up the table a little, only succeeding in moving a few things around before the bathroom door opened behind you. 

“Why are you still here? You weren't supposed to be here.” He sounded angry and oh so tired.

“Do you want me to go?” you asked meekly, shrinking under his glare.

“It's too late.”

“It's fine.” You knew you weren't wanted, so you grabbed your bag and made your way to the door.

You'd only managed to open the door a fraction of an inch when you felt Bucky brush against your back. He reached over you and slammed the door closed. Surprisingly, his actions didn't frighten you, despite the force he had just used. You were, however, concerned by his unexplained outburst. Bucky had never raised his voice at you, he was always so sweet and gentle. There was almost a reluctance when it came to sex, like he was afraid that his strength would hurt you. 

“What are you going to do? Walk? At this time of night?” His voice was laced with poison and it cut you like a knife.

Shit you hadn't brought your car. You definitely didn't want to walk outside alone at 2.30am.

“Well, you've made it pretty clear you don't want me here.”

“I-” 

You weren’t sure if it was the look on your face, or your scathing tone but he seemed to be at a loss for words. You slipped past your boyfriend and stalked over to his couch.

“What’re you doing?” he grumbled, watching you fluffing the cushions to use as a makeshift pillow.

“I'll just stay here, you go to bed.”

“Just come and sleep in the bed,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I'm fine here.”

“I'm not going unless you come too.”

You bit your lower lip, there was nothing you wanted more at this point than to rage back at him, to point out how awful his behavior was, to let him know how awful he had made you feel, but there was something in his expression that stopped you. Your outrage was replaced by an overwhelming sadness. 

“Fine,” you huff before getting up and sliding past Bucky into the bedroom.

Climbing onto your usual side of the bed, you curled up at the very edge, facing away from Bucky. Even though your rational mind told you that there must be a reason for his demeanor, your amygdala couldn't help but exert its influence and soon silent tears were coating your cheeks as well as soaking the pillow.

What you didn't notice was Bucky's small sighs as you tried to stifle the sound of your sniffles. He rolled over on his back and tried to focus on something other than the pain he had caused you. For some reason this made him angrier than he was before, but not at you. He had never been angry at you, just surprised. Your presence had been unexpected. He had wanted to drown his sorrows in a scalding hot shower and not have to speak to anyone. It would have been nice to lie in bed, wrapped in your loving arms…

Bucky groaned quietly. He had taken out every one of his frustrations out on you, the one person he loved most in the world. You had always accepted every part of him, and in his heart of hearts, he knew you would accept the secret he had come home with. Bucky had no one to blame but himself for this mistake.

He turned his face to you, calling your name softly, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to respond. Instead you chose to close your eyes and shut out the world and the pain. Eventually your breathing evened out, became steadier and deeper than it had been before and Bucky realized that you’d finally dozed off. His mind wouldn’t give him the same relief though, his thoughts spiraled, convincing him of every catastrophic outcome. There were very few things that James Buchanan Barnes was certain of, and you were one of them.

Sunrise came all too soon for you and not soon enough for Bucky. Maybe it was the angle at which you’d fallen asleep but you woke shortly after the morning larks started their song. The night’s events came back to you like a knife through the heart and you knew you had to leave. The thought of having another encounter like the one you’d had with Bucky the night before was agonizing and you had no desire to face him again, not yet. As softly as you could, you peeled back the duvet and pushed yourself off the mattress before stumbling into the bathroom. You hadn’t undressed the night before which meant that you had the option for an easy escape. Before leaving, you glanced at the mirror, grimacing at the dark circles under your still red eyes.

You had made it as far as the door before he had caught up with you again.

“Please.” His tone was pleading, he might as well have been on his hands and knees begging you to stay.

“I have to go, Bucky.”

You pulled your hand from his and made your escape. He didn’t follow you but he tried calling you repeatedly. He only stopped when you cut the last attempt short by sending him to voicemail without answering. As soon as you got home, you shook the snow off your shoulders, slipped out of your clothes and crawled under your covers and fell asleep with tears in your eyes.

As you slept, Bucky stewed in the juices of his guilt, steeping himself in a melancholy of his own making. He needed to act, he needed to apologize, he had to make things right. Grabbing his wallet, Bucky put on his coat and drove to the nearest florist to purchase a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

He cradled the beautiful blooming buds as he approached your building. Bucky had spotted your car down the street, covered in snow, there was no mistaking the outline of Stitch with the words “Back off bumper rhumper. My brakes are good. How’s your insurance?”

It was lucky you didn’t have to go to work because you slept for the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon. Oblivious to the ringing doorbell and phone, you slept peacefully.

Instead of leaving, Bucky sat down on the steps outside your apartment, clutching the floral arrangement like a lifeline. He was a patient man, he wasn't afraid of the cold, they had named him Winter after all.

Finally you woke to a deep rumbling in your stomach. You hadn't eaten in almost twenty hours and your body demanded to be fed. After a long stretch and a quick raid of your closet for warm clothes, you opened your fridge to find a cold LED light glaring back at you. It was empty. You needed groceries. Instead of stocking your own fridge, you'd spent all your time filling Bucky's. 

As tempting as the take out menus were, you needed some basics for the next few days before you had to go back to work. Without bothering to change, you pulled on a pair of thick socks, a hoodie and your duffle coat and headed out with the intention of visiting the local grocery store.

You were just about to let go of the main door to your apartment building, when you caught sight of a pair of familiar boots. Following your line of vision, you looked up from the boots to their owner and you are surprised to find Bucky asleep on your doorstep covered in snow with a now frozen bunch of flowers which appear to have crystallized to his jacket.

In a moment of panic, you dropped to your knees in the snow, shaking the sleeping supersoldier and calling his name.

“Bucky!” 

He opened his eyes, unfocused in their disorientation. Your hands cupped his freezing cheeks to get his attention. Were his lips blue?

“Bucky, look at me.”

He tried to whisper your name, but his voice was barely audible and all that came out of mouth was a tiny puff of steam.

“Are you alright? Can you get up?”

You hissed at the frigid feeling on your palms as your hands moved behind his arms in an attempt to pull him closer to you.

“Yeah, one sec.” Bucky pushed himself off the floor, the stiffness of his body making his movements slow and pained. It was almost like watching the reanimation of a corpse after rigor mortis had set in.

Before he had the chance to say and more, you'd grabbed his wrist and dragged him up to your apartment. It was your turn to be angry. At him, at yourself for not having seen his attempts to get in touch. If you were honest with yourself, you'd have ignored his calls and it infuriated you that your behavior had caused him to act this way. But mostly you were mad at him.

And because of this, you refused to say another word as you wrenched open your front door and guided your popsicle boyfriend onto the couch. Ignoring his stuttered apologies, you grabbed a couple of blankets, removed his outer layer of clothing and wrapped him tightly into a cocoon of blended polyester, cotton and wool.

Bucky's gaze was hawklike as you silently fussed over him, ensuring his warmth with blankets. You turned up the heat on the thermostat to furnace conditions and put the kettle on. You popped a teabag of chamomile and honey tea into each of two mugs and stood next to the kettle, as though watching it would make it boil faster. It was only because you didn't want Bucky to see the tremble of your lip as you fought against the urge to break down over the stress of the last twenty four hours.

You pulled your arms around your torso, shivering slightly. It really was cold outside and you were hoping that Bucky wouldn't suffer from having fallen asleep outside. Without warning, you felt a warmth envelope you. Bucky had crept up behind you and in his socks, you hadn’t noticed his approach on the hardwood floor. He put his arms around you and draped himself around you along with the blanket, making you sigh and melt into him.

Bucky took it as a good sign that you didn’t pull away or punch him in the face. He buried his face in your hair, breathing in your scent, trying to memorize every detail of your essence. You considered staying there, wrapped silently in his arms but the whistle of the kettle brought you back to your senses. Wordlessly, you unwrapped yourself from his embrace and poured water into the empty mugs.  You picked up the two mugs and motioned him over to the sofa.

The two of you sat together quietly sipping the tea. You glanced over at your boyfriend, your heart softening as you saw how sad and small he looked. Normally Bucky had a presence, he had broad shoulders and was tall, his vibranium arm occasionally glinting with a hint of menace. But as he sat wrapped up and clutching the mug of tea close to his face as he inhaled the steam with his red tinged nose, you wanted nothing more than to curl under the blanket with him and kiss his face.

You watched as he closed his eyes and a small crinkle appeared at the bridge of his nose. You frowned slightly, confused by the way his nostrils twitched for a second before his head pitched forward with a surprising sneeze. His hands shook and hot tea sloshed over his hands. You grabbed the mug from his hands and deposited it on the coffee table before turning back to your boyfriend with a look of worry.

“Bless you?” you whispered, your voice laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

You brushed his face with the back of your hand. Did he have a fever? There was a heat that was emanating from him. The supersoldier serum should protect him from illnesses. Shouldn’t it?

“Yeah, the steam went up my nose. It tickled.”

“Sure?”

Bucky nodded. Your care for him gave him the courage to take your hand.

“Look, I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday. It was totally unacceptable.”

“Buck-”

“I know you’re upset… and I understand if you aren’t ready for forgive me-”

“Buck-”

“And that’s okay, if you don’t want to talk to me-”

“Bucky!”

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you so angry? Did things go badly with your mission?”

Bucky looked down at his hands, suddenly afraid of what you would say about his explanation. It was obvious by the way he traced the golden veins of his vibranium arm. You took his hand in an attempt to reassure him of your support.

“I only had one thing to do and I couldn't even get that right.”

Bucky couldn't quite look you in the eyes as he spoke.

“How many people have to die because of me?” he asked dismally. “Steve wouldn't have let her die.”

“Bucky, you didn't let anyone die. She was murdered. That's not on you.” You had no idea what you were talking about, but you knew he would never intentionally hurt anyone. 

“You should have seen how everyone looked at me. I… didn't want you to look at me like that.”

“Oh Bucky.” You moved closer to him and put your hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles on it. “I don't think that you screwed up. You're not a failure. You did your best. Sometimes bad things happen and they are completely out of our control.”

“I'm so sorry for the way I spoke to you.”

“Yeah, I'm not going to lie, that wasn't fun for me.” You sighed. “Look, can we agree that neither of us acted in an ideal way.”

“I can't see what you did wrong.”

“I don't want to do this again, Bucky.”

“Neither do I.”

“I promise, in future, I'll respect your request to be left alone.”

“And I'll do my best to tell you how I feel.”

Both you and Bucky sat gazing into each other's faces until your stomach rumbled loudly and interrupted the tender moment.

“Hungry?” Bucky smirked at you.

“What gave it away?” You rolled your eyes. 

“Shall we order something?”

“Yeah, let me grab my tablet.”

You got up to fetch your device but you were stopped by a strong pair of hands around your waist. Bucky pulled you back into his lap and wrapped his arms around you tightly. 

“I love you,” he whispered in your ear. 

[lightryi]

Dragons of Pantala (headcanon designs)

• Silkwings:

-Inherited from nightwings genes of fur on the chest and in their case they only progressed, thanks to which the wool is distributed throughout the abdomen, neck and front legs

-In addition, the shape of the scales is more like the scales of nightwings than the beetlewings. The hind legs are also inherited from nightwings (in general, silkwings closer to the nightwings while hivewongs to the beetlewings)

-Big Eyes

-Very long tongue

-Mouth are small and round

-Short, round ears

-Teeth are not very sharp, by structure more like the teeth of herbivores than of predators (transitional form from one diet to another; such a structure also came from the merger of nightwings (predators) and beetlewings (omnivorous, but preferring to eat plants; fed only under adverse conditions))

-Blood are beige, semi-transparent

-The shape before and after Metamorphosis is significantly different. The "caterpillars" (before metamorphosis) are covered with blistering scales, some have a greenish tinge, developed a cusptry at the mouth - the mouthparts helps the dragonets to feed (after metamorphosis only small mouthparts remain, which are rather rudimentary), very small antennae on the head, almost not functioning; their role replaces temporary growths on the lower jaw, which disappear after metamorphosis. Body consists of scales, fur missing

-After metamorphosis the skin color becomes much brighter, grow long antennae with fur at the end, also appears directly, the fur itself on some parts of the body

-The shape of the wings in some individuals may be different (similar to the butterfly wings after which they were named)

-Flamesilk dragons have patterns in the form of lights on their wings and also fire colors (red, orange, yellow) all over their body. Eyes are also very bright (before the metamorphosis it is not visible, also in normal silkwings eye color changes slightly, unlike flamesilk dragons). All this is a warning to other creatures that these dragons don't have ordinary silk (it is similar to how in our world poisonous animals have bright, warning coloring)

-Growth reaches 2-2.5 meters

*The design was based on butterflies and their caterpillars

• Hivewings:

-Round tail. Despite its external fleshiness, it is almost completely hollow and not overloaded with internal organs and muscles. It contains only organs of the reproductive system and a reservoir with poison. And even though there are these organs that contribute to the flying, 2 pairs of wings and a dense front of the body all compensate for it, and they restore balance

-The tail itself is motionless, only able to descend, in order to wound the opponent with a dagger. The front part of the body is more flexible.

-Ears are long but thin

-Blood as like silkwings, beige and semi-transparent, but has a darker shade

-The gait is more developed than silkwings

-Paw structure identical to beetlewings

-Thorns on the entire spine fall long, with a sharp end

-Horns are curved, facing the opposite direction

-Whites darkened but not entirely black, has a dark shade of the color of the iris

-Also prefer to eat plants, but unlike silkwings, their teeth are very sharp. The reason is defensive functions, the presence of poison in them.

-Mouth is sharp, triangular shape

-Growth reaches 2.5-3 meters

*The design was based on bees, wasps and some other insects

• Beetlewings:

-Horns curved and parallel to the mouth

-Sharp nose, able to pierce the opponent

-The mouthparts, which due to the long nose is necessary for beetlewings so that from the mouth as little food as possible. The long tongue also helps (but it is less than the silkwing's tongue)

-2 pair of wings: the first is twice as short as the second, it performs the role of elytra

-The second pair of wings can fold and hide under the first

-Double thorn on the tail. The structure of the tail is similar to the tail of hivewings (the tail of the beetlewings is longer than that of the hivewings)

-Large thorns on the spine

-Semi-transparent beige blood

-Whites are also darkened, but not as much as in their descendants, hivewings

-Ears are pointed but not very long

-Omnivores

-Growth reaches 2.5-3.5 meters

*The design was based on bugs and some other insects

• Leafwings:

-Horizontal eye shape

-The presence of a modified ruffs (they are related to rainwings)

-Wings, webbed spines, ruffs and ears are leaf-shaped, and they can be very different in each individual (often their appearance resembles the plant after which they were named)

-Their scales do not necessarily have a green tint in all individuals

-Long, multi-ended horns that resemble tree branches. Many bigger than rainwings

-Paw structure almost identical to rainwings

-Sapwings and poisonwings try to distinguish themselves by applying paint on small fragments of scales, often making a small pattern from this (the first are painted in pale colors, the second, on the contrary, in colorful, mostly consisting of red, yellow and orange shades)

-In addition to this poisonwings can sharpen their webbed spines and horns, make them sharper

-Height reaches 3-4 meters

*The design was based on trees, their leaves and partly rainwings

[leiascully]

Fic: POANG (M, MSR)

4400 words; rated M for a lot of real and imaginary sex; the solve high hits Scully right in the libido and a trip to IKEA doesn't help. happy birthday, @laurencem (ao3)

There’s a novelty to working a case in a city. They’re usually in smaller towns, out on the edges of things where the fields blur into the woods and the monsters wear animal skins. Today’s monster is human, or something that resembles one. Scully doubts sometimes that it’s possible to be so brutal and retain humanity.

They’d been called in on this one on the suspicion of witchcraft. There had been a series of killings: bundles of herbs left at the scene, dead bees scattered about, cedar smoke lingering in the corners of the rooms, corpses ritually disfigured. The perpetrator turned out to be more ecofascist than druid. No caltrops for him, and no nice trip to the woods for her and Mulder. This killer has been cultivating poison plants, including the kind of mushrooms that reduced a person’s liver to a liquid. He raved as they put him in the car, something about the city being a hive and its denizens mere drones. Scully tuned it out.

Case closed by noon and they’re back at the hotel. It’s not a particularly nice one: no restaurant, no pool, no premium channels. They’re close to the airport, far from most of the amenities. The closest landmark is an IKEA looming blue and yellow by the highway. Scully regrets making them drop off the rental car early, but Skinner’s been making noises about expenses again. Frugality and a high solve rate are the better part of valor. There’s a free shuttle to the airport, but their flight isn’t until tomorrow morning.

“Where do you go to eat around here?” Mulder asks the college-age kid at the desk.

The kid shrugs. “IKEA.”

“To eat?” Mulder sounds skeptical. It’s music to Scully’s ears. She settles her hip against the wall and watches him.

“I mean it’s not where I would take a date, but they’ve got food,” the kid says, glancing between them.

Mulder turns to Scully. He lifts an eyebrow.

“IKEA it is,” she says.

It’s a short walk, at least. Scully’s used to the touristy part of DC, which this is decisively not. She’s used to walking next to Mulder in a suit and heels instead of jeans and flats. It feels different. She never feels small, walking next to Mulder. He makes space for her, even when they’re out on their own time, like this. She wonders if that makes it look like they're on a date, when they’re out of uniform.

She wonders, just a little, if they’re on a date.

The automatic door of the IKEA opens invitingly, a wide mouth to swallow them up. Mulder ushers her in, an ironic little twist to his lips that tells her he knows what she’s thinking. The maw of capitalism. An ecosystem where the consumer is the consumed. Clearcut forests shimmering with ancient insects.

Also, meatballs.

The end-of-case adrenaline is starting to hit her. All the emotion she locked down in the moment comes back, rerouted from fear to something more feral. She’s restless. She is, truth be told, a little horny. Some confluence of her cycle and the solve high has her wishing she’d stayed in the hotel room. The bathtub looked clean enough. She could have enjoyed herself. Instead she’s letting Mulder lead her through a labyrinth of simulated lives and enticingly arranged furniture. He stops to mosey into one of the staged spaces and beckons her over.

“Look at this, Scully.” He spreads his arms. He can almost touch both walls of the fake apartment. The grey t-shirt he’s wearing stretches in such an enticing way over his chest and shoulders. She gets a whiff of his deodorant and it makes her toes tingle. There’s something about the scent of artificial woods layered over just a hint of sweat that makes the feral part of her flex its claws. She’s always susceptible to the scent of Mulder, but this is something else. She could duck under his arm and sink her teeth into the bare skin of his bicep.

Some part of her is mortified to think of him in this way. Most days, that part gets the upper hand. Today, it’s been outvoted and overpowered. Want prowls back and forth in her belly. She steps closer.

“Can you imagine living here?” he asks. “Actually, you probably could. It’s about the size of a ship’s cabin.”

“Compact,” she says.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles at her. “Just like you.”

I’d compact you, she wants to say, even though it makes no sense. She wonders if her pupils are dilated as she gazes up at him. She wants to push him up against the wall, but there’s a cabinet in the way. He’d hit his head, and he’s had enough cranial trauma. She’s his doctor. She knows better.

He’s still smiling at her and for a moment, her wild desire recoils, rebuffed by doubt. How would he react if she lunged for him? Does he even think of her that way? There have been hints over the years, but Mulder’s mouth writes checks the rest of him isn’t willing to cash. In his mind, are they just on a nice little outing, two work colleagues grabbing dinner? Was he planning on going back to his hotel room to watch whatever film features a leggy brunette wearing the fewest clothes?

“Kidding,” he says, and she realizes she’s staring at him. “Scully. I’m kidding.”

“Right.” She takes a step back as he lets his arms fall to his sides.

“Are you all right?” He ducks his head. “You look a little flushed.”

“I’m fine,” she says automatically.

“I guess it’s been an exciting day.” He meanders out of the fake apartment onto the floor of the store. They seem to be in the seating section. Scully doesn’t need a sofa, and she doesn’t need to look at sofas and imagine on them herself cuddled into Mulder’s side. None of these options are as sexy as his leather couch anyway. Oh god, when did she start thinking his couch was sexy?

Mulder stops by a chair with a light wood frame. “POANG,” he reads off the tag. It’s got white cushions and a sort of modern look. “Oh hey, it’s a rocking chair.” He tips it with one finger and it obligingly rocks. “Maybe you need one of these for your living room.”

Scully is possessed by a vivid image of the chair as it might look in her living room. Mulder is sitting in it, jeans yanked open and shirt rucked up, and she’s straddling his lap and riding him until the runners squeak under them. The motion of the chair accentuates the motion of her hips and her tits swing until he captures them in his big warm hands and and and…

“Maybe,” she says. “But Mulder, we have an IKEA closer to home.”

He drops onto one of the sofas and stretches out. He’s obnoxiously long. His shirt rides up, revealing a wedge of golden skin. “You’d probably rather have something vintage anyway. You’ve got champagne tastes, Scully. You like your creature comforts.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” She crosses her arms.

“No.” His lip twitches in amusement. “Although I have to say, if I had your bed, I’d never get out of it.”

Please, she thinks, fervent as a prayer. “Is that why it took you so long to stop sleeping on the couch? Your inherent slothfulness?”

“What can I say.” He brushes his hand over his stomach, smoothing his shirt down. She bites her lip and looks away. “I’m a man of many vices.” His voice is low, almost a purr.

It’s exactly this kind of fucking behavior that feeds the poor confused wild thing inside her. Does he know that? She knows him better than anyone else in her life and she has never been able to decide if it’s real, not even the time they almost kissed. Her need for him gobbles up every scrap of plausibly deniable flirtation, simultaneously satiated and starving.

She looks away from him. The next section is more innocuous - lots of cute little baskets and boxes. “I thought you were hungry.” She can’t imagine a magazine holder stoking her libido.

“Right,” he says, rolling off the couch. “Date night.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s lunchtime.”

“Who knows how long it’ll take us to get to the restaurant?” He shades his eyes with his hand, as if he’s peering over some dim horizon. “This place is engineered for maximum distraction. Think of all the lives we could live between here and there, Scully.”

She manages to haul him through the living room storage without too many detours, although she does have a wistful moment over another one of the staged living spaces, imagining the two of them sharing an apartment. She shoves the thought away. They spend so much time together she should be sick of him. She should fantasize about freedom, or solitude, or meeting a handsome stranger in a tiki bar on a tropical beach. But even when she loathes Mulder, she longs for him. Even the way he examines a Billy bookshelf gives her a rush of fond familiarity at the way he devotes his whole attention to it.

“Should we get you a desk?” he teases as they enter the next section.

Only if you’ll fuck me on it, she doesn’t say. Instead, she rolls her eyes and marches toward the shortcut, knowing he’s drifting in her wake. They skip the kitchen section, which is good; she doesn’t have to imagine herself with her hands braced on a countertop as Mulder presses against her from behind, one hand palming her tits and three fingers of the other inside her. They proceed through dining. In her head, she’s definitely not bent over this table as he takes her from behind, or sitting on that one as he has her for dinner, his lips moving eagerly over her thighs.

There’s something wrong with her. The heat deep in her belly keeps building. It’s Mulder’s damn grace and the way he smells and the fit of his jeans and the way the t-shirt strains when his arm flexes. It’s been too goddamn long since she had sex - years, and that was the once, and years before that - and something has awoken inside her, stirred out of sleep by the moon or the tides or who knows what the fuck. She’d go out on a limb for ancient prophecy at this point. That’s how primal her desire feels. It’s wild inside her, barely contained. And it’s so fucking stupid to feel all of this in the middle of an IKEA - a sanitized, flatpack world of sexless confused caricatures and beds that look too flimsy to fuck in.

Beds. So many beds. Acres of beds. And they do look flimsy, but she imagines fucking in them anyway. That one has a slatted headboard she could attach restraints too. That one has storage drawers for her collection of sex toys and Mulder’s collection of dirty magazines. She’d fuck him in a trundle bed at this point. Hell, she’d fuck him on the floor and let security drag them out and shove them into the cop car still coupled together, because there’s no way she’d let him go.

She somehow makes it through beds.

“You must be hungry,” he says at her shoulder. “Or else you took up competitive speedwalking.”

“That continental breakfast was a long time ago,” she says without looking back. She doesn’t need to look. She can sense him: his heat, his bulk. She could reach out for him and know exactly what she’d touch. That’s the problem with her fantasies. She knows him too intimately.

The wardrobe section doesn’t trouble her much, aside from a brief vision of dragging him into a small dark space and having her way with him. She doesn’t even flinch when they get to the children’s section, or at least not outwardly. Her eyes are on the prize and for once, it’s not Mulder’s ass. It’s the IKEA bistro at long last.

They dine. Mulder has meatballs. Scully has the salmon. The meatballs look suspiciously pale to her, but Mulder assures her they’re delicious. He holds out his fork for her, won’t take no for an answer. She relents and he feeds her a fragment of meatball dipped in the sharp sweetness of lingonberry jam. It’s better than she expected. She eats her salmon and wonders at her impulse toward the ascetic. Mulder is supposed to be the one who’s chosen a lonely, constrained life, but she’s the one denying herself mashed potatoes and a potential heaping helping of Mulder. If his flirting means anything, and that’s the if of her life at this point.

She sighs and puts her fork down on her plate. Mulder eats the last bite of her salmon, but only when it becomes clear she isn’t going to eat it. He smiles at her and her heart and her loins both throb. Fuck, she loves him so much.

They escape the IKEA without any further purchases. Fortunately, most of the rest of the store is small goods and packaged furniture, so the only thing to tempt her is the occasional surface that looks firm enough to support them both.

“Call me when you want dinner,” Mulder says when they get back to the hotel. She locks herself into her room and scans her notes on the case. She waits five minutes, fifteen, an hour. There’s no knock on her door. She starts to run a bath. Her whole body feels congested. She knows it’s not possible to die from metaphorical blue balls, unless it is and she’s about to be in the X-Files again. She wants him so much she feels like a teenager again. If they’d grown up together, he would have been her first kiss. She knows that. Four years would have made a difference until it didn’t. She would have waited for him to finally, finally see her.

She’s waiting for that now.

There’s a full length mirror near her door and she stands in front of it. There’s nothing wrong with her, surely. She’s not as buxom as some, not as curvy as others, but he’s dragged his eyes up and down her body a hundred thousand times. She’d know what that meant from anyone else. With Mulder, who knows? It could be sacred geometry. He could be comparing her to the women in the tapes he stashes under his tv. Maybe she’s just in his line of sight and he’s thinking about something else, sinusoidal curves or what inhabits the bleak depths of space, and it only looks like interest.

She squeezes her breasts, thumbs her nipples. Her own hands aren’t what she wants, but they’re familiar. She slides her palms over her body as the water thunders into the bathtub. If she closes her eyes as she tugs off her t-shirt and unbuttons her jeans, she can imagine it’s him. Fire follows her fingertips as she draws a topographical map of her body with his phantom hands. She’s down to her bra and panties when someone raps on the door.

“Just a minute,” she calls, and turns off the water. She peers through the peephole, wrapping a towel around herself. It’s Mulder. Of fucking course, it’s Mulder, interrupting her at exactly the moment she would want him to, so that he can tell her about fairy rings or the exciting properties of silicon instead of fucking her through the hotel bed.

She lets him in, rolling her eyes at herself.

“I went back to the IKEA,” he says. “In the vein of the heroes of old. I conquered the extremely domestic wilds of the main floor and I may have ordered you a POANG chair to be delivered. Also, I brought cake.” He puts two plastic boxes on her dresser. “But I didn’t know if you’d want chocolate or strawberry.”

“Why?”

“Why? We solved the case, Scully. I think a little celebration is in order. Or why the chair? I thought it would look good in your living room. I don’t have the space for one.” He looks her up and down all too briefly. What a gentleman. “Are you busy? I can come back later.”

“I’m not busy,” she says, just to see if he’ll accept it. For two people so passionately devoted to the truth, they lie to each other all the time. Maybe it’s plausible that she frequently sits around her room en déshabillé and he’s just missed it every time.

“Chocolate or strawberry?” He produces two forks. “Although I guess we can share.”

“Mulder, does it look like I want cake right now?”

He does the slow pan up and down her body this time. Heat rushes up her body, a sudden blaze that stokes the furnace in her belly to a roaring flame. She can feel the flush in her cheeks and down her chest.

“I admit, you don’t seemed dressed to dine,” he says at last.

She opens her hand, a gesture that invites him to follow his thoughts to their logical conclusion and leave.

“The cake was a ruse,” he says abruptly, ignoring her hint. “I wanted to check on you. You seemed a little off earlier.”

“Off?” She sits on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, maybe frustrated or angry.” He drags the standard-issue chair over, sits with his knees almost brushing hers. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. It was a weird case.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” she says.

He stares at her. There’s a long, long moment, during which she thinks about kissing him. She can’t stop looking at his mouth. As if he senses her gaze, he licks his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” she asks, still half-mesmerized.

He taps her knee with one finger. “You said you were fine. Okay. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” He gets up.

“What?” she says, flummoxed by his sudden pivot. “Mulder, the cake.”

“You can have it,” he says. He tosses the forks on the dresser by the cake. “Eat it in good health. I’ll be back later.”

“Where are you going?” she asks.

He paces back and forth. “I don’t know. It kind of feels like you don’t want me here.”

She opens and closes her mouth. “First of all, I’m in a state of undress.”

“I don’t care about that, Scully.”

“You don’t care?” She stands up. “What if I care?”

He makes a dismissive gesture. “I’ve seen you undressed, you’ve seen me undressed, it doesn’t have to be weird.”

“It doesn’t.” Her voice is flat with disbelief. “It doesn’t have to be weird.”

He shrugs. “Not unless you want it to be weird.”

“Fine.” She’s fed the fuck up. It’s been a long, weird, fairly excruciating day. She drops the towel.

This time Mulder really looks at her. She can feel the way his eyes drag over her skin, stopping to caress each rounded nipple, dipping toward the elastic of her panties.

“Not weird at all,” he says, but his voice is hoarse. He shifts, which makes the bulge of his erection more noticeable. Fuck it, Scully thinks. You don’t get to the moon if you never fire the rockets. She feels drunk. Mulder’s full attention has always been 100 proof.

“I wanted to fuck you in the POANG chair,” she says conversationally.

“Yeah.” He shifts again. “I wanted that too. Maybe that’s why I bought you one.”

“The way it rocks,” she says, and shivers a little, which makes him shiver too.

“I wanted to play house in those little apartments,” he tells her. “You and me, falling asleep watching tv, but in the same place for once. You and me, sharing a bed.”

“Yeah,” she says.

“Is that why you seemed mad?”

She nods. “Also I was hungry.”

“Where else did you want to fuck me?” he asks, stepping closer. His eyes have gone dark green. His pupils are wide.

“Everywhere,” she tells him.

“Wanna start with this bed and see how far we get?” His hands settle on her hips, so lightly, as if he’s afraid she’ll pull away. Instead, she drags his head down, breathes against his lips for a moment, and then kisses him.

The universe implodes. That’s what it feels like, anyway. But even if it were the end of all things, she couldn’t stop herself. He smells like pine and musk and his neck tastes like salt and she’s kissing him everywhere, everywhere. He lifts her and she wraps her legs around his waist and he has one arm around her waist and one hand under her ass and his fingers are stroking the outside of her thigh and she thinks if he’s not inside her in the next minute, she’ll just die.

He laughs and she realizes she said that out loud.

“I think so too,” he says. But he’s still dressed, he’s still wearing all his goddamn clothes, and she tugs at his shirt until he takes the hint and drags it over his head. She lets go and works on the button of his jeans. His jeans and his boxers come off together when they shove at them, and then he’s less dressed than she is. He kicks off his shoes and the tangle of denim and silk and she undoes her bra because she trusts his competence, but also she doesn’t. Need has made them so, so foolish.

“I want to,” he says, and swallows the rest of his sentence, but he hooks his thumbs into her panties and she lies back and lifts her hips. He skims the fabric down her legs. There’s hunger in his eyes. She lets him look, dropping her knees wide. He swallows hard and crawls up the bed to lie next to her.

“I wanted this to last,” he tells her.

“Me too,” she says. “I thought it would be different.” The light in his eyes dims slightly. He starts to turn his face away and she presses her palm to his cheek and turns it back. “Mulder, no. I wouldn’t change anything about this.”

“You sure?”

For answer, she kisses him, throwing her leg over his hip. Maybe it’s not what she expected. But she’s had years of self-denial, and she’s finished with that. There will be opportunities later for endless foreplay (as if every interaction since their handshake in the basement hasn’t been foreplay) and romance and slow indulgence, but she doesn’t have the patience for that. She’s already reaching for him, already wrapping her hand around his hand around his cock so they work together to guide him in. It’s such a relief that she almost cries, even though she aches as she stretches to accommodate him. And then he’s moving in her and it’s the rhythm of the universe, the pulse of existence. They’re not being safe and she doesn’t fucking care. He’s inside her, he’s touching her, he’s kissing her, and she’s wrapped around him like she can fuse their bodies together.

Every texture of him is a revelation: the hot satiny skin of his cock, the sleekness of his belly, the light fur on his chest. She knows them all and yet. And yet. It’s so different now. She feels the slickness of his lips and the rough friction of his tongue in her mouth and on her skin. It’s everything. Finally, she’s filled up, satisfied, satiated, maybe for the first time in her life. She wants more, oh God, she wants more of him. She wants to live under his ribs like that conjoined twin. She wants her bones jumbled with his. She wants him to fill her every way he can think of. She wants to buy a whole new range of sex toys and treat him just right. But for now, this is enough.

“More,” she says, and he pushes her onto her back without sliding out of her. She spreads her legs wider. He pins her, lacing his fingers into hers and stretching their arms over her head. His hips jolt as he shoves into her, harder and deeper, and she arches up to meet him. Every cell of her body feels like it’s filled with sparks of pleasure; she could map her nerves for him if she still had the power of speech. But he understands her incoherent cries. He always understands her.

She’s whimpering under him, helpless in the throes of her pleasure. The tingling starts in her extremities and washes through her, a tide rising higher and higher. She can feel his muscles tensing. His stomach is trembling. He’s holding back, wanting her to come first. One day, she thinks, she’ll indulge him, urge him to think of himself, but not tonight. She squeezes around him, taunting him. He groans and looks at her. She smirks at him and he growls in his throat. Now it’s a challenge: he has to make her come first, not just wish for it. He doesn’t let go of her, but drags their joined hands down her body. He rubs their fingers against her clit, tight circles that have her gasping. And then she’s coming, her body bucking under his, and he makes her ride it out before he’ll let go.

“Please,” she says, and he thrusts into her shivering body and she wraps her legs around him and holds him so tight as he buries his face in her shoulder and yells. He tries to roll off her right away but she won’t let go. She wants his weight, all of it, and after a moment he surrenders and lets her take it.

“We’re definitely going to fuck in that chair,” she whispers in his ear after a while.

He laughs into the curve of her neck. “We’re definitely going to fuck a lot of places.”

She kisses his ear and he turns his face so that his lips meet hers. “Making up for lost time.”

He shakes his head slowly, eyes sparkling. “We haven’t lost anything,” he says. “We’ll make our own time.”

For some reason, her eyes prickle with tears. She kisses him again, threads her hands through his hair. She believes him. Maybe they have a future full of flatpack furniture and charming antiques and lazy mornings in bed. Maybe they can celebrate all their cases like this.

“Let them eat cake,” she says, and he laughs again and holds her close.

[dalishious]

Ramblings on "Eight Little Talons"

The Talons

One of the most interesting things about the Tevinter Nights story, “Eight Little Talons”, is how it portrays the relationship between all the different Talons.

The very first paragraph features Viago reflecting on how important decorum was, because he does not want to be shown up by the others. He then goes onto think about how unusual it is to have such a gathering of Talons, and that they will need to put aside their differences if they want to accomplish their goal of a united front against the Qunari invasion. The quote, “while all Talons were peers, the same could not be said about their resources and influence,” paints a picture of how even though they are all individually powerful, yes, there is still the ladder of supremacy based on First Talon to Eighth Talon. As such, they are all stuck playing a game against each other to keep or advance their positions on that ladder. Additionally, Dante refers to a competition that exists between the north and south of Antiva.

This is, ultimately, their downfall. It’s what Emil claims motivated him to take them out. He admires the noble origins of the Antivan Crows, and dislikes what they’ve become. He tells Teia, “Now, it’s all about family. Blood. Instead of a claw working as one, we fight over scraps. Eventually, we’ll all starve.” And in the end, he says, “It’s always money with all of us. That’s the problem. In the beginning, we were protectors. We fought for Antiva—for the people. Then somewhere along the way we chose profit over patriotism.”

Viago de Riva

I love how Viago proficiency with poison is both a blessing and a curse for him. On one hand, it makes him very good at his job. But on the other, he is profoundly paranoid about being poisoned himself. He has memorized how different ingredients react and can be hidden in different foods, and refuses to consume anything handed to him without either testing it first or preparing antidotes. He dresses to show the least amount of skin possible, and is anxious over any form of contact with another person. He takes a daily micro-dose of Adder’s Kiss to develop an immunity to it.

Another interesting thing about Viago, is how bitter he is about being a bastard son of the Antivan King. When Teia wonders about his past, she knows better than to actually ask him any questions. Viago was only given two choices in life because of the circumstances of his birth: either live in luxurious exile, or join the Crows. He resents all his half-siblings who chose the first, and he resents the king himself. Viago may be more powerful than them all, even the king, but he is now stuck in this life. Had he not been, he thinks he could been a better ruler of Antiva.

While Viago is certainly skilled – he firmly believes he could kill every Talon at the summit if he wanted to - it’s easy to infer that it was nepotism that earned his rank, or at least that’s the reputation he has, based on the comment from Dante: “Your daddy will protect you”.

Viago sees himself as a recluse. Teia says his reputation is that of a curmudgeon, and in her defence, he himself says he doesn’t care about being liked, he just wants to be respected and feared. I think the fact that he was raised in a “gilded cage” with a mother whom he remembers only for her wine-stained teeth had a lot of influence on this. He’s been alone all his life.

Andarateia “Teia” Cantori

Just like Viago, Teia has an unconventional speciality as well. While Viago observes that she weaponized her beauty, I would propose that Teia’s real mastery is manipulation. Using her beauty is certainly part of that, but in examining the way she responds to each and every character differently shows that she is playing a far subtler game. She shoehorns Viago into riding with her in a gondola, so that the others will gossip about how their houses must be in an alliance – the goal being to give them more power in the discussions. She calls Caterina “Nonna”, which Caterina points out that not even her actual grandchildren do, as a way of disarming the First Talon. And when she interrogates Dante, yes the serum he’s under helps, but it’s her cunning persuasiveness that does the leg work.

Viago remarks that at twenty-eight years old, Teia is the youngest Talon in history. Perhaps this is a contributing factor to why she has a different perspective than the others, when it comes to her dislike of “the bottom line” – the obsession with making coin for their kills. She also has her own set of rules the others do not follow; for example, she refuses to kill servants unless absolutely necessary. And she displays the ability to sympathize with people in a way that the other Talons do not. So you could call it naivety, sure. But I believe it’s more to do with just the type of person she is. We know from Zevran how the Crows work hard to burn out everything except murder in their recruits, but the fact that Teia holds onto her compassion speaks of how strong it is.

It’s also worth mentioning that Teia had to accomplish a hell of a lot to get where she is. “An elf born in an alley with no family or connections, Teia and her rise to power had caused quite the controversy. The Antivan Crows always told new recruits that anyone could become a Talon, but it rarely happened.” She tells Viago that she does not let where she comes from define her, nor is she ashamed of who she is. I love that. I love how unapologetic Teia is about herself.

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 12

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 5,700

Tags/Warnings: Violence and peril, angst central, a touch of PTSD, and a surprise ending… 

Part 12: All Your Wicked Ways

Something was wrong. 

It was a gut instinct, but yours was far too often right. 

Ben had been sleeping for a long time. After he’d fallen asleep yesterday, you did shortly after from the combination of fatigue, pain from your broken ribs, and the painkillers in your system. 

But even after your keepers had woken you with a tray of food, Ben still hadn’t woken up.

“Ben?” you tried calling to him, but he didn’t rouse from where he laid in his cot, one arm pillowed behind his head and the other across his stomach.

You got up, your pain making you slow as you made sounds of struggle. 

You went to the large window and supported yourself with your hands on the glass. You called his name again, louder.

His face scrunched a little, but your voice couldn’t penetrate the Novichok haze—the poison being pumped into his cell to dull his senses and keep him too drowsy to function.

You paused as you heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. It turned out to be several, in fact, as a team of Vought security guards came to your cell. 

“What’s going on?” you asked. No one answered you as they grabbed and handcuffed you with your arms in front of you. You struggled, but you didn’t have the strength or energy to give much of a fight. 

They wheeled in what looked like a large metal casket. You had only seen one of these in pictures, but it had to be a cryochamber. 

A doctor in her mid-fifties accompanied them, giving directions on how to safely enter Ben’s cell. Your eyes widened.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shouted. Panic trilled down your spine as the guards fitted themselves with special suits and gas masks. The doctor turned toward you as the guards led you out of your cell and into the hall.

“You’re being transported,” she informed you. 

“Where?”

“To a lab with better security.”

“Why? Where’s my father? I know that bastard’s still alive,” you demanded, but it seemed you weren’t interesting enough for the doctor. 

You spied her last name, Baker, embroidered above the breast pocket her lab coat. You finally recognized Dr. Tonya Baker; you hadn’t worked with her much during your time at Vought, but you knew her by reputation.

Your heart fell into your stomach. 

You struggled against the stern grip of the guard holding you and shouted, “Ben, wake up!”

Between your voice and the commotion outside his door, he started to rouse.

“Get her out of here,” said Dr. Baker. 

Your guards tried to drag you, but you dug your heels in and made it as difficult as possible. Meanwhile, Ben could hear you—when you called his name and now, while you were struggling. He finally drew enough energy and strength to open his eyes and sit up in the cot. 

Once he saw you being manhandled against your will, his fury sparked. 

“Hey!” he barked. He managed to rise off his cot and draw himself to his feet. The first door of his cell slid open for the guards in their hazmat suits. Once that closed, the second one disengaged, and they came pouring in. 

Ben fought them. He managed to punch the first one into the far wall, shaking the fortified glass. He snapped the second man’s neck and broke a leg on the third, but they just kept coming in batches of three or four. The room was misty as hell, slowing Ben’s stamina, and he gritted his teeth in frustration. 

Their strength was in numbers, and gradually, they were able to latch onto his arms, kick behind his knees to bring him down to the ground.

He saw the mask coming towards his face, and the well of panic, hearing your distressed yelling of his name—it gave him the strength to break the chain of men holding him down. 

That’s when he noticed the star bolts zipping outside his cell. 

You were still fighting against the guard’s hold. You ripped back his sleeve and bit into the man’s wrist, eliciting a yell of pain. His grip eased up enough for you to steal his secondary gun on his belt, and despite your cuffed wrists, you shot him in the leg twice to bring him down. 

You raised the gun at your next attacker—Frenchie, who raised up his hands in friendly surrender. 

“Cherie! It’s surprising to see you alive,” he said. You grinned.

“A good surprise?” you asked, and you shot another guard approaching from behind him. 

Frenchie flinched slightly, but after he watched the man fall to the ground, screaming and clutching between his legs, Frenchie’s lips raised in a more genuine smile. 

“Yes, I think so,” he teased. 

You looked past him and watched as Kimiko, M.M., Annie, Hughie, and Butcher took out the rest of the guards. You didn’t see Dr. Baker anywhere; in all likelihood, she’d fled the scene when she saw her opportunity. 

Ben still remained in his cell, and you went to the glass window. He looked all right as he met your gaze, but there were about ten bodies lying around him. His face was firm and assessing. Still, you read the uncertainty behind it.  

You sighed and turned to your team. “Hey, guys. Good to see you.”

Annie went to you first, grasping your shoulders. Her large eyes peered into yours.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Well, more or less,” was your weary reply. Your ribs were throbbing, but you raised your cuffed hands. “Think you can help me with these?”

Annie raised a hand over your cuffs and concentrated her powers into melting them, just enough for Kimiko to strike through them. You slid off the remaining metal pieces and rubbed your stinging wrists. 

“All right, let’s get a fucking move on,” said Butcher.

“Hello to you too,” you replied, raising a brow. 

“Oh, just you wait. You’ve got plenty of fucking explaining to do,” he said, leveling a finger at you. He slid it over to Ben, who watched him right back. 

“Ello, gov.” Butcher smirked. “Look at you, all gift-wrapped for us.”

He turned to M.M., who approached with an especially terrifying-looking gas mask. Your eyes widened. 

“Ready?” Butcher asked him. 

“Ready to knock this motherfucker out and bring him into custody,” M.M. grimly agreed. 

“Wait,” you said, stepping past Annie to get between M.M. and Butcher. 

With your back to the glass, you didn’t see how Ben’s eyes followed you. They hid a thread of uncertainty. He had a feeling you might do this, but he didn’t know what to expect from your team. 

“It doesn’t have to go down like this,” you told them. “He took out Homelander. He could help us bring down Vought. This fucking tower, the whole thing.”

“Is that why you ran at the airport?” M.M. asked. Then he shook his head. “Never mind. We don’t have time to debate this.”

You held out a halting hand. “Look, clearly they're not done making supes if they brought back a new and improved Black Noir. Now they’re selling V24 to the military. They need to be stopped, and with our help, Ben could do it.”

“Oh, it’s Ben now, is it?” Butcher stared at you shrewdly, then at Ben himself. The latter just tilted his head, his mouth quirking with an edge of cockiness. 

Butcher raised a brow. His gaze returned to you, noting the way you stood your ground, but pursed your lips. You were hiding something…a guilty conscience, perhaps. 

“Bloody hell. You two’ve been fucking,” he realized. 

Shocked silence spread through the rest of the team. 

Your embarrassment radiated off your flushing cheeks, and it took everything within you to resist looking back at Ben. You didn’t want to see what kind of expression he wore, but you could guess.

“No,” Annie regarded you with shock. 

“Seriously?” Hughie remarked in a high voice. 

“That’s…well, that’s none of your goddamn business, is it?” you tried to be stern, but your embarrassed shuffling made it lose some of its effect.

Kimiko shared raised brows with Frenchie, who just looked amused. M.M., on the other hand, grimaced with disgust. That actually stung, but you crossed your arms. You didn’t have a good answer for them. Not one you wanted to say in front of Ben, anyway.

“I think we can come to an agreement here,” Ben said at last. 

You turned around, and he gained the attention of the others as well. He briefly met your gaze before he shifted to Butcher. 

“Worked for us once, before you tried to double-cross me,” Ben said. 

“You want to take out Vought.” Butcher glanced at their surroundings, specifically Ben’s cell. He gave a snort of amusement. “I could understand that.”

“Butcher,” M.M. said sharply. 

“We–we should probably get out of here now,” Hughie pointed out. He looked back down the hall nervously. You agreed with him; any moment now, more guards could be coming. 

“Think about it,” said Ben. “The only way you’re getting that mask on me is with a fight. One you’ll probably lose, fucking miserably. We can have the same deal as before, no strings. Until Stan Edgar and Noir are dead.”

It took Butcher all of seconds. 

He turned to Frenchie and said, “Open her up.”

“Butcher, what the fuck!” M.M. argued. 

“What do you fucking want from me, eh? Their special ops security will be all over us soon,” Butcher said. 

But he shared a meaningful look with the other man that you didn’t miss. It sparked your suspicion.

You stepped back as the first door unlocked after Frenchie hacked the commands. Then the gas misting up the cell receded.

There was an immediate reaction from Ben. He blinked in relief as he started to breathe easy. The brain fog making it almost impossible for him to stay alert slowly ebbed. 

He took one step into the hall before it happened—all in a rush, but not unexpected. He blocked M.M.’s punch and tossed him across the hall. 

Someone jumped on his back. He heard you shout, but before he could rip off the hanger on, Kimiko slipped the mask over his face and deployed a heavy dose of nerve gas. It was enough to drop him to his knees as his eyes rolled back into his head. 

Lights out. 

On the way to Supe Affairs, you weren’t happy, but there wasn’t much you could do. 

You were still in your Vought-issued gray pajamas, bare footed as you rode along with your friends in Frenchie’s van. In the very back was the haul of Ben, laid to rest in a chamber keeping him sedated. 

You had to explain to the rest of them that your father, Jonathan, was Stan Edgar’s Chief of Security. You were a cog in Vought’s wheel once upon a time, but joining the S.A. helped you escape. Ben offered you a way to achieve what you couldn’t at the S.A.—taking it all down.

Still, M.M. looked at you like he didn’t even know you. 

“How do you explain fucking him?” he asked.

You shot him a tight frown.

“First of all, none of you know what the hell I went through,” you said. “At first, I was just trying to learn how to read him. How to survive and somehow get back home.”

Emotion clogged in your throat when you thought of seeing your sister again soon, and your mom. You thought of all you had gone through in past two months, and knew that it had changed you…

For better or worse, you didn’t yet know for sure. 

“But for all his arrogance, his chauvinism, his massive ego and general bastardry, there’s still humanity in Ben,” you said, looking up at your team. You thought they had become your friends…but you supposed you would see. 

“Why else would he save me?” you said. 

They didn’t answer. You turned your head to Annie, but even she didn’t look convinced. Though you could see she wanted to be on your side, it was difficult for her to reconcile her own feelings about Soldier Boy. You certainly understood that. 

“He’s too powerful to kill,” you also pointed out. “Putting him to sleep like this will just make it worse when he wakes up…but if he’s properly motivated, he could do some good.” 

“Or off anyone who looks at him sideways,” Butcher wryly replied. “He’s dickmatized you, love.” 

You could tell the others sided with him on this. 

“You can disagree with me,” you said, “but do you have a better way to kill Noir and take down Vought?”

At the S.A., you were able to shower and get on proper clothes in a black tracksuit and some sneakers. You weren’t allowed to find out where they’d taken Ben yet, but Grace Mallory oversaw the transport, just as she called you into her office for your immediate debriefing.  

It felt more like an interrogation, not unlike the one you underwent to be recruited for the manhunt of Soldier Boy.

You felt like a different person sitting across from her. This time you sat up tall, not intimidated by the ice blue stare that greeted you. The lines in the older woman’s face were drawn, but there was an unyielding wall within the woman that you could admire. 

It just didn’t change the fact that right now, she was your opponent. And the chess game had begun.

“You went way off-road with this assignment,” she said at last. You raised a brow. 

“I’m sorry my kidnapping inconvenienced you,” you remarked. 

“Don’t be cute. You know what the hell I’m talking about,” Grace said. “At this point, I’m debating whether to bring you into custody along with Soldier Boy.”

“I’m the one who got him back to the States,” you pointed out, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed. “I had to get in contact with my father to make that happen. Do you know what that cost me?” 

You resisted an uncomfortable shudder. They’d given you more painkillers for your ribs, but it wasn’t enough the relieve the damage of that encounter. Not to your mind. 

“Aside from any other self-debasing tactics I used in order to do my job, not to mention save my own life. Without me, and the sacrifices I made, Soldier Boy wouldn’t be in a cell downstairs,” you finished. 

Saying those words stung. Like you were somehow betraying yourself. 

“That doesn’t fool me,” Grace said. In fact, her shrewd gaze was much like Butcher’s. It saw straight through you as she tilted her head in wonder. “You care about him.” 

Your lips tightened. 

After a moment, you answered.

“He was tortured for forty years,” you said. “Whether he admits it or not, he’s got scars just like the rest of us…but more importantly to you, he can help us take down Vought once and for all.” 

Grace considered you with a shifting light. “I didn’t think that mattered to you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you retorted. “But make no mistake. You will pay me what you owe me for this mission. If you think you’re going to welch on your end of the deal, then I’m about to be your long-term problem.” 

Grace huffed in wry amusement. 

“I have a feeling you will be, regardless,” she said. 

“And to that end, I will be checking in on Ben,” you replied. “He’s a person, not a weapon or a lab rat.” 

“Mind yourself, young lady,” Grace snapped, her eyes narrowing. “I admire your sense of loyalty, but in this case, it’s misplaced. That man is a bastard and a murderer, with a devastating power he can’t hope to control. And you, frankly, don’t have any standing to make demands.” 

“And what’s your body count, agent?” you challenged. “Have they all been sanctioned kills?”

When she didn’t answer, merely staring back at you, you stood up.

“You’re right, he can’t control it. Yet. Maybe that’s something productive you can get your damn scientists on,” you said. 

And before you left, you added one more thing. 

“I may not have your security clearance, your power, or your money,” you said. “But I’ve got a big fucking mouth. So unless you want me to use it, my clearance now includes seeing Ben.” 

Grace stared back at you for a moment. 

Her nails tapped on her desk as she assessed you. 

Releasing a long sigh through her nose, she relented. A little. 

“Fine,” she said. “If you can convince him to ally with us on the Vought issue, I’ll allow you to see him.” 

You nodded. For all that Grace hated Soldier Boy, she was a practical woman. She saw the same opportunity you did, and was willing to take advantage of it…even if you both knew that convincing Ben to play ball would be damn near impossible. 

In fact, this would probably be your biggest challenge yet. But this, you were willing to fight for. 

“I can start tomorrow,” you said.  

It seemed that Vought and the CIA had been thinking similarly on how to confine Soldier Boy. 

You spent one strange night back in your musty apartment before you returned to the S.A., bright and early, so that Grace could lead you to a lab below the main building. It was dark and made of pure concrete, encased in titanium. 

In it was a state-of-the-art cell with three metal walls that had to disengage before you could reach the inner room. Inside those four corners of fortified, bullet-proof glass were scarce furnishings. Ben himself was strapped to a bed, with a mask held over his face. 

At least he was out of the coffin, but it was difficult for you to watch, even as the scientists and guards unstrapped him and left the cell. The mask disengaged from his face, allowing him to breathe real air as he started to wake. But gas flooded into the compartment, not unlike Vought’s setup. 

You and Grace stood outside the glass. She glanced at you with sharp nod. Then she left you alone. 

Well, relatively speaking. There were guards posted at the entrance of the three walls behind you, controlling who got in and out of the cell area. 

Once all the walls were back in place after Grace’s departure, you let out a shaky breath and stepped forward with the plate of food you brought, along with a few bottles of water.

Ben was moving off the bed, trying and failing to clear his head as he took in his surroundings with a furious glare. It only dimmed slightly when he realized you were there. 

He made his way toward you, and you pressed a button that would allow you to safely pass his meal to him without letting any nerve gas escape the inner cell. Ben removed the lid from the plate, inspected the chicken and vegetables with an unreadable expression.

Then, with a burst of force, he took the plate and tossed it as hard as he could into one of the glass walls. 

You flinched. But by the time he looked back at you, you’d schooled your expression, merely raising a brow. 

“That was real fucking mature.” 

“Suck on my balls, sweetheart,” he retorted. He cocked his head to the side.  “Oh wait, you did. Last Tuesday.” 

You glared at him with a hot blush spreading across your face. That was not, in fact, last Tuesday. But you didn’t rise to his bait.

“Are you really willing to partner with the S.A. to take down Vought? Or was that just you bluffing?” you asked. 

Ben started to pace in irritation. You knew he was upset, and itching for revenge on anyone that would dare confine him again. You could guess what being in a cell was already doing to his mental state. 

Which was why you were here, desperately trying to help him.

“Really, would you rather be hunted all your life, or would you rather just play ball here?” you tried to reason. “Become a real ally with the S.A. Show Mallory that you can operate within the law.”

Ben looked up from his pacing just to glare at you.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to with all these demands, huh?” 

“You, Ben. I’m talking to you!” 

He ignored you, resuming his pacing. “I’m a solo act for a damn reason.”

Oh really? you wanted to say. That’s why he needed your help to try and get to Stan.

“That got you here, now didn’t it?” you asked. 

He didn’t answer. It made you think you weren’t going to get anywhere with him today. Maybe he needed some time to cool off.

You sighed and turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“You’re just going to leave me in here?” he asked in disbelief. And you thought you could read a throughline of hurt behind his eyes. “I saved you…shit, I’ve lost count how many times now. And still, you fucking betrayed me.”

“Don’t you do that,” you warned. Though you felt a prickle of guilt run down your spine. “You know very well what got you here. I tried to stop it. And I’m the only one who’s on your side right now.”

“Doesn’t fucking look like it from where I’m standing.”  

You sighed in frustration. “I’ll tell you the truth, I don’t want to leave you in here. But if I can’t trust you, they never will.” 

“I don’t know what delusions you have about me,” he said, coming closer. 

“But when I get out of here, I’m slaughtering anyone who gets in my way!” he shouted savagely. 

He banged his fists into the glass so hard that it trembled, making you flinch with a gasp. A more concentrated fog smoked up the cell. Ben coughed and cursed as he stumbled back, and eventually, he fell unconscious right there on the floor. 

You watched in dismay. Despite his rage, it still hurt you to see him like this. Like a caged animal. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you forced yourself to leave the cell before the cameras caught them. You knew Grace would be monitoring this exchange later. 

She would probably feel vindicated at what she saw. 

The thought disgusted you as the outer walls parted, allowing you to leave. M.M. was waiting for you at the exit. He’d seen the entire thing through a monitor at the control desk, where two guards sat eating their lunch. 

“You want to protect that piece of shit?” M.M. said, jerking a thumb towards the cell. “That’s what he really is. And he clearly don’t give a fuck about you.” 

Your jaw tightened. 

“I’m not going to justify my actions to you, M.M. I know what he’s done, especially to you," you said. "But he didn’t just let me live. He protected me, saved me, more than once. From his own men even. And…he was kind to me, in his own way. I have to think that counts for something.” 

M.M. shook his head at you in disbelief.

“Maybe he went soft for a pretty girl, but that doesn’t mean he ain’t a monster,” he said. 

“That’s not all there is to him,” you said. “You didn’t see it, M.M.”

The other man watched you for a moment, before he let out a deep sigh. 

“You actually think he can be saved,” he said. 

“Maybe,” you said. “We’ll see.” 

He crossed his arms. You understood how he felt, but you couldn’t deny what your instincts told you about Ben…and your heart as well. 

“He’s right about one thing,” M.M. said. “You are delusional.”

A few days went by as the team went back to work at the S.A. as usual. But your days during your first week home became marked by your strenuous visits to Ben.

Once again, he’d rather pace than look at you. You had a feeling it helped him stay awake.

“I fought for my country,” he groused. “I don’t fucking deserve this.”

“Oh, would you stop lying?” you said in annoyance. “You’ve only ever fought for yourself. You didn’t even fight in World War II! You’ve never been a soldier. And unless you get a fucking clue, you’re going to continue being the massive man-child your father saw in you.”

Maybe it wasn’t kind, but you were fed up with his stubbornness. You turned to leave. 

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me!” Ben shouted. 

You raised a brow, and you turned on your heel. The man was livid, standing in the center of his cell.

“Or what?” you challenged. 

But you soon relented at the way he withdrew–into himself. 

You had checked the monitors before you came in; he was trying not to sleep, wasn’t letting his body rest. This place was like an open wound: complete wall-to-wall glass, no privacy, nowhere to go, and nothing to do. He couldn’t distract himself with drugs, or TV, or good food, or even good sex and conversation. 

This was terrible for him, and you knew it. 

“Ben, I want to help you,” you said, letting out a shaky breath. You laid a hand on the glass. “Let me help you.”

His gaze was angry and unyielding. 

“There’s only one way you can help me,” he said. “But you won’t fucking do it.”

The team was giving you a wide berth. Even Annie greeted you in the office with more politeness than warmth. 

Above all else, you remained professional, but it was a simple fact that your team was no longer your team. They didn’t trust you, or your judgment. And you refused to show how deeply that hurt you. 

However, until you all got a breakthrough on taking down Vought and Noir, there was still work to be done. So you fell into step back in with the Surveillance team.

That meant taking your place as second-in-command to your manager, as well as returning to your cubicle next to your coworker Jess. She hugged you when she saw you, even shed tears. 

You’d hugged her a bit awkwardly, but you were touched. You hadn’t thought she cared about you that much. 

She told you that the entire Surveillance department had been worried about you. That they’d missed you, especially your calm, supportive leadership. (Apparently your manager had been stressed handling the entire department without you.)

That at least buoyed you throughout the rest of the week. 

When you returned home on Thursday, however, you received an unexpected call. But when you saw the caller ID, you inwardly kicked yourself before you answered. 

“Louisa?”

“What the hell is wrong with you!” came your sister’s sharp voice. 

So many things, you thought with a weary sigh. You held your phone to your ear while you tried to find something to cook for dinner in your pantry. All you found was a box of spaghetti…which dragged up bittersweet memories you’d rather not think about. 

“I meant to call you as soon as I got back,” you tried to explain. “But I’ve been in full debrief mode. It’s been a circus since I got back, Lou.”

You slammed the pantry shut and went for the frozen dinner in the freezer.

“I don’t care. I didn’t hear from you for almost two straight months…” 

You knew the S.A. hadn’t told her anything about your kidnapping, but you knew she had to have been worrying when you didn’t check in at all after that first time in Medellin. The sound of her emotion-choked voice made your own eyes sting. 

“I’m sorry, Lou. I’ll come visit you this weekend, okay? I’m still taking care of some things at work.” Namely a grumpy supe on lockdown. “How’s school?”

“School is fine!” she snapped. You heard her take a breath, presumably to calm herself. She had a bit of a temper, just like you, but your sister managed herself much better than you. You supposed being more well-adjusted had its perks.

“Mom was worried too, but I kept her calm. Focused on work,” she said. 

“I appreciate that. Thanks,” you replied. You knew you had to call your mom soon as well. Maybe you’d stop in on her after your sister. 

“I better see you this weekend,” she grumbled. You smiled. 

“Love you too,” you said.

“Love you…okay, I’ll let you go for now. But don’t forget!”

Once you said goodbye and hung up, you held the phone to your chest and heaved another sigh. You were exhausted, really. Sleep hadn’t been coming easy to you ever since you got back. But you knew it was nothing compared to what Ben was going through.

Which was why you visited him every day.

The next morning, you made your pitstop to the “cellar,” as you’d been calling it in your mind.

You’d brought whatever Grace allowed you to give him, like books and magazines, and an old iPod to listen to music on, but he mostly ignored you.

This time, however, he seemed in a different mood as you sat in a plastic fold out chair and ate your breakfast with him, on your side of the cell of course. You took another bite of your blueberry muffin while he pushed aside his bland-looking eggs. 

“So, how much did you get paid?” he asked. His tone was nonchalant, but his gaze was accusing. You let out a breath and looked up at him. 

“Enough to put my sister through college and pay off my mom’s debts,” you told him. “I took this job for my family, Ben.”

His finger tapped on his arm, but he didn’t relent. “Selling out is selling out.”

Wow. He really had the nerve to compare you to the way his team sold him out.

You’d tried to be nice. You really did. But he could be such a massive pain in the ass.

“You don’t seem to understand just how much shit I’m in for trying to help you right now,” you said. 

Ben mustered up some strength and got up from his cot. He drew near to you, crossing his arms.

“If this is your idea of doing me a fucking favor, then I don’t need it,” he said angrily. “I don’t need a naive little girl like you to help me do jack shit.”

You set down your muffin and stood to your feet, matching his glare. 

“Like you didn’t need my help to get into Vought Tower?” you pointed out, satisfied by the way he piped down. Silently simmering. 

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be awake right now,” you added. “You’d be back in an ice coffin.”

And that could still happen if you couldn’t convince him to cooperate with Supe Affairs.

“Fuck off,” he snapped. “And fuck you.”

Oh really? You frowned. At this point, you wanted to slap him. It seemed to be his sheer stubbornness and ego that was keeping him from his own freedom, and that, you just couldn't tolerate.

“You know what?” you said, grabbing your muffin and your fold-up chair. “Suck my dick, Ben. When you’re ready to talk to me like a human being, tap on the glass.”

You left him behind to do your real job, and this time, you didn’t let him halt your steps.

You’d scarcely entered your apartment that evening, when a shadow on the living room sofa gave you a small heart attack. 

You flipped on the lights and found your younger sister, arms crossed with a raised brow. On the coffee table in front of her was a glass of soda. It looked like she’d made herself comfortable while waiting for you.  

“Louisa! What are you doing here?” you exclaimed, with a hand on your chest. “Why the hell are you sitting in the dark?”

“I heard you coming up those rickety stairs and thought I’d pay you back for disappearing in South America,” she said. 

But soon enough, wide grins took over both of your faces. 

You pulled her into a big, warm hug. Tears burned in your eyes, and one or two slid down your cheeks as you tried to get ahold of yourself. 

“I missed you so much,” you confessed. You were just slightly taller than her, able to comfortably pet her hair and press a kiss to her cheek. Louisa was just as emotional, her pretty eyes filled with happy tears. 

She was about to speak when the glass on the coffee table suddenly shattered. 

You both flinched, and your sister gasped. You held onto her shoulders tighter, more protective as you assessed the room. You listened closely. 

A shot rang out, but it hit the wall beside your head. You moved at the last moment and narrowly avoided the third shot that would’ve struck you between the eyes. 

“Get down!” you yelled, forcing your sister to crouch along with you and move across the living room. 

Bullets tore with a vengeance through the windows, crashing into vases, picture frames, shattering the surface glass of the wooden coffee table, and ripping into the sofa until its internal fluff rose into the air like cotton confetti.

You protected Louisa’s head as you both took shelter behind the sofa. 

“What’s happening?” she shouted over the cacophony, but you didn’t have an answer for her yet. 

Your front door burst open and shattered the lock. You tensed, looking for where you stashed the spare gun you kept at home. The S.A. hadn’t gotten around to issuing you a new glock yet.

Heavy boots came through your apartment. You grabbed a piece of broken glass and told Louisa to stay down.

But when you stood and met your attacker, he was nearly three times your size. He grabbed your wrist in a firm, but not painful hold. He pulled his black ski mask down with a hand and revealed a familiar face. 

Your eyes widened, your mouth gaping in shock. 

“Frank?”

AN: 😏 Did I get'cha? Did I? Let me know in the comments. 😂

Next Time:

“Wait, wait. You’re not getting out of this.” Louisa leaned over and grabbed your hand. “What’s the deal with you and Soldier Boy? I thought the whole point of your mission was to capture him.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. 

“I was on the job, things went sideways, I got captured, and things got…complicated.” 

Frank huffed. “I think the kids are calling it Frenemies with Benefits.” 

Keep Reading: PART 13

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

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[librarian-computer]

I’ve had something stuck in my for a long time and I’m finally going to do it. Fazbear and the Creator has taken up a lot of this region of the country (whatever area tSaMs takes place). Almost everything is animatronics, and humans are on the bottom of the food chain.

What brought this au on? Listening to music ofc

So every member in the family has spiraled in some way and are all serial killers in their own right and murder any humans they can, whether it’s in sight or they play with the human.

Naming off some ones I have so far:

Nexus. Mad scientist, blatant murderer, uses technological weapons.

Moon. Regular scientist, subtle, poisons victims or uses chloroform and murders them then to make as less of a mess as possible

Sun. Daycare attendant, very subtle, refuses to kill children, will murder adults- but never in front of children- murders in secret

Lunar. Candy shop, executor, will have human sacrifices brought to him for him to electrocute until death.

Earth. Salon, blatant murderer, hair stylist that will listen to you yap but if you annoy her she’ll use her scissors to lodge them into your skull. She gets annoyed easily.

Ruin. Theatre, fruity performer that will have volunteers come up onto the stage for a ‘play’ and murder them in front of the audience. Uses a Kris dagger to murder.

Eclipse. Rogue, he prefers to constantly move and never stays in one place, murders in secret. Drags victims off of the street into secluded alleyways and will murder them there. Will use knives of all kinds.

Jack and Dazzle. Scouts. The only two that will not murder. Jack will if necessary and if necessary only. Jack will use his dagger hands.

Glamrocks. Respective jobs to due with instruments, doesn’t murder often, but Monty has murdered the most out of the four. Murders with teeth and claws.

Sunny, Solar’s Sun. Attraction at a haunted house, won’t kill but will lead victims to Moonrise to be killed.

Moonrise, Solar’s Moon. Attraction at haunted house, blatant murderer, murders anyone lead to him by Sunny. He will murder using his teeth and claws

Solar. Butcher. Blatant murderer+cannibal, will try to feed someone human meat, will jump the counter and chop you to pieces. His basement is filled with hanging meats of all kinds, the freezer empty including human meat. Some fresh, non skinned and diced human carcasses will hang on ropes from the ceiling as well. He will use a chainsaw, butchers knife, or a two tonged pitchfork. Hide your kids, he eats them too.

Killcode. Blatant murderer, he just roams around murdering anyone in the streets. Tall murder machine with big and sharp teeth and Edward scissor hand ahh claws.

Bloodmoon. Blatant murderers, they are hitmen that will murder other humans for humans. But you must wear something red for them to even consider you a client. So if you want to kill someone specifically, wear a red shirt :) they have claws and teeth.

Probably a couple of ocs.

Still working on the structure. But I think I’ve got the basic stuff

Let me know if y’all are interested in seeing something for it :)

[vaaaaaiolet]

You move to the big city in search of bigger and better, so naturally, you get your first place.

You just don't anticipate the roommate that comes along with it.

f / m, strangers / enemies to lovers, slow burn, hijinks and shenanigans, leon is bad at feelings :( but don't worry because there will be so much fluff omg like a romcom, leon being a little shit to a sweetheart pipeline, and banter!! so much banter

inspired by the Japanese drama Good Morning Call!

catch up on earlier chapters // read on ao3

chapter 3: being neighborly: a how-not-to

a/n: peep the change in tags :0 and the next chapter is already underway!

my writing skills are still pretty rusty eek!! but i had so much fun with this one.

burning question: is this length okay or are longer chapters preferred? i stuck with my earlier length for this update but i can def cover more per chapter. thoughts?

You do not get the master bedroom.

Leon the not-burglar is terrifyingly fast on his feet, you discovered last night after he took one look at the guest bedroom and promptly dropped his duffel bag in the room with the bigger bed. Shut the door, even. But that is the least of your worries as you wake up with a throbbing headache from your frosty new roommate’s 6:00 AM alarm. 

Could he get any more insufferable? You curl your pillow around your ears with a groan in an attempt to block out the horrific noise. After the short-lived triumph of your arranged living situation, you’re at a loss as to what the next 3 months with blond Patrick Bateman might entail. 

“...thought I’d drop by!” Leon’s chirpy, girlish voice rings out from the living room. 

What? 

You must have gotten less sleep than you thought. Somebody else is in your apartment, goddamn it, not another roommate, you pray as you tug on a sweatshirt and shuffle into the living room. Leon’s holding a tray of cookies wafting with fresh-baked steam as you enter, shooting you help me eyes as you pinpoint the source of his distress: possibly the cutest girl you’ve ever seen, standing next to him with her hair done in braids and chattering away.

You cross your arms and bite back a shit-eating grin. 

“Leon, you never introduced me to your friend!” you exclaim.

“She is not-”

The girl is more than happy to interrupt him, stretching out a hand for you to shake that you’re just as enthusiastic to accept. “I’m Lena,” she beams, ignoring Leon’s glare at you, “I’m your next-door neighbor!”

“That’s just wonderful,” you gush, plucking one of the cookies from Leon’s tray. “And you brought these too? You shouldn’t have.”

Lena’s all too happy to accept the praise, clapping her hands and giggling in delight as you bite into a cookie. Or at least you try to. The thing’s rock hard. Leon chuckles, covering it with a cough as you do your best to clamp your teeth through the petrified Palmier. 

“It’s a pleasure, really! Just the neighborly thing to do. We don’t get new neighbors often.” 

You grin painfully. “Ehh hah high…?” Is that right? 

“Ever since the new changes they started with the leasing contracts, people have been moving out left and right. Really sad,” Lena pouts, “I was such good friends with the other people who lived here. They were a couple just like you, just so lovely-”

“We’re not a couple!” you and Leon shout. You cough, partly to shrug off your outburst and partly to get the remnants of that asteroid of a cookie out your system. 

Poor Lena tilts her head like a confused puppy.

“We’re roommates.” Leon corrects. “She and I…” he glances at you with an expression akin to polite distaste, “we’re under the new contract. It’s complicated, like you said.” 

The energy in the room dwindles with Lena’s continued chitchat about practically every event in the history of the apartment complex. At least now you know to not go into the pool on Thursdays or risk food poisoning from Mr. Demopoulos’ grilling. Somehow, neither piece of advice is relevant right now in the beginning of December. Yawns wear out your jaw underneath the cover of your hand as Leon gives you pointed looks every so often, the tray somehow still in his hands after what must be at least 20 minutes of your new neighbor blabbing away. 

You want to giggle. He’s drowning in a white hoodie and looking more like a grumpy baker by the minute. 

This is all your fault, Leon glowers. His emotions are as hard to read as a neon sign in Vegas. 

But sadly, all good things must come to an end, and so does this part of your payback for him calling dibs on the bigger bed. Definitely not because Lena was starting to twirl her hair and giggle each time he’d make a passing comment to be polite. She’s mere seconds from pulling him down by the arm to sit on your couch (your couch!) before you put a stop to it, bemoaning your shift at the nearby ramen place that starts in half an hour.

Lena lights up; you grimace internally. “No kidding? I love that place! I love the Monday specials, I always get there earl-”

Leon butts in with the enthusiasm of the Energizer bunny. “Right, right, we wouldn’t want to keep you from starting your day. Monday mornings, right?” He leads her out by the elbow as you tag along, apologizing and insisting that you return her gracious favor one of these days.

“Bye Lena!” you wave cheerily as Leon locks the door with finality, and turns to face you. Super slowly.

Oops. 

“What the hell was that about?” 

Frustrated breath condenses past his lips in the frigid apartment air. Leon’s so stony-faced that you might have chiseled his perfectly straight nose yourself on a fine arts final.

“Nothing,” you shrug, shuffling into the kitchen to get some actual breakfast as Leon pads after you, “just wanted to get even for the bedroom thing.”

“The- you’re still hung up on that? I signed the lease first!” he argues as you slip bread into the toaster slot. Leon reaches his arm above your head to fish cereal out of the cabinet. Annoyingly, he'd had the sense to stock the kitchen after you passed out last night. “That’s my bread you’re using, by the way. And my toaster.”

“Learn to share. You’re such a child.” you snap back. The bite’s lost on him though, seeing as you’ve got your mouth stuffed with toast so it comes out more like a hamster with its mouth full. Your intimidation skills could use some work.

Unperturbed, Leon tosses dry cereal into his mouth. “Says the one who egged that crazy girl on! Would she have ever left on her own?”

“Lena’s not crazy, she’s a sweetheart!”

“A crazy sweetheart, call it what you will.”

“You’re being mean. I think she’s got a crush on you.” You delight in the groan you pull out of him. “She liiiikes you!” Your finger jabs into his side and sends him out of the kitchen entirely as he takes the box of Lucky Charms with him, and you chortle, clutching your sides.

Finally, you have the kitchen to yourself and peace in the house without Lena’s (frankly annoying) chatter and Leon’s alarm blaring in the back. You might even brew yourself a cup of tea. You could even-

“You’re late for work now!” a far too satisfied voice calls out from the other side of the apartment.

Shit. 

“And say hi to Lena for me when she comes in for the Monday special!” Leon adds, howling as you hightail it to the shower.

back to the chapter masterlist...

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[anonymous-dentist]

Part Five of the Catboy in the Village AU

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four

-

Before Cellbit can start any kind of investigation, he passes out from hunger. (Four days without eating will do that, he supposes...)

It's sort of just... quick. He's sitting up in bed so Roier can braid his hair, and then his head and eyes are all fuzzy, and then he's in a different bed with no Roier and with an absolutely killer migraine.

He groans and rolls onto his side and pulls his blanket over his head, because he knows that there's somebody watching him. He can feel their (her) eyes on him, and they're making him feel even more sick than he already feels.

"You're an idiot," the queen declares.

Cellbit just hisses at her. She doesn't deserve his words.

He can practically hear her eye roll. Wood creaks from next to his bed, footsteps clicking against the cold stone floor, and then a light 'creeeeak' as a cabinet is opened on the far side of the room. Grumbling from the queen- insults, mostly. Clinks and clatters as she searches for something.

Cellbit's stomach twists and groans from hunger. Gods, what he'd give to be in his kitchen right now with Roier making dinner less than an arm's length away from him. Smoke in Cellbit's lungs, flavor already burning his tongue, fresh bread from the bakery across the street in front of him as an appetizer.

"There's soup on the table next to you," the queen says.

But it isn't Roier's soup, is the thing. It's probably poisoned. Or, worse, it's gross. Not enough meat, probably. Possibly even vegan, eugh.

How would the queen react if Cellbit told her that he only eats dishes with human flesh cooked into them? Would that be enough for her to send him home?

...Probably not, considering she seemed more upset about him being bad at escaping prison than him actually being in prison in the first place. That opens a whole bag of worms in itself, because how in the world does the queen know about Alcatraz when Cellbit's own in-laws don't? How long has she been stalking him for?

"If you need something lighter, I can have the kitchens send up some bread or crackers," the queen continues.

"I'm not hungry," Cellbit grumbles.

He's gone for longer than four days without food. During the war, it wasn't until Bad picked him up and taught him what his claws and fangs were good for that Cellbit started having dinner more than once a week. When he was put in solitary confinement in prison, he wasn't given food at all, and he was in that cell for at least five days at a time.

He's gone for longer than four days, so it has to be something in the castle that has made Cellbit so weak. Maybe it's something in the air, some kind of magic the queen is employing to try and break him down. The bed sheets might be laced with sickness runes. The guards constantly following Cellbit and Roier around might be warlocks in league with whatever demon is haunting the castle.

"Right," the queen sarcastically says. "You're not hungry. You just passed out after not eating for four days for no reason."

Cellbit bristles so literally that his ears tent the blanket above his head. He grits his teeth together and, not for the first time, he wishes that he still had his claws.

"Exactly," he grits out. He flexes his fingers, pretending the air he's scratching is the queen's stupid (identical) face. "So. Leave."

"I'm good, actually," the queen lightly responds. She sounds beyond pissed off, but she also sounds as calm as can be expected of royalty. Ugh. "I'm going to order some bread for you in just a moment."

Cellbit's ear twitches. "No."

"You're an alchemist, yes? You know what happens when you take a potion on an empty stomach. This might be the healer's quarters, but I will not have you throwing up all over her floor."

Cellbit pulls a bit of his blanket over and away from one of his eyes so he can glare at the queen properly.

"I'm not going to throw up," he scoffs. Who does she think he is?

Now that he can see the queen, he's even more annoyed. More than that, though, he's confused because... why? Why is she here? What kind of warden pays this much attention to their prisoner?

She's rooting through a large wooden cupboard filled with things Cellbit recognizes from his own supplies back home: healing potions, powdered unicorn's horn, phoenix feather, faerie dust.

"When you passed out, you hit your head pretty hard on one of your bedposts," the queen explains, ignoring him entirely. "Your husband has requested that you be given something to help with your pain, and you know that you can't take that without something in your stomach. Stop being stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn," Cellbit huffs. "And I'm not in pain. So."

He isn't lying; he feels just fine. The only thing hurting is his stomach, and that's normal with starvation. He's more than used to the feeling by now.

"So you're going to take one dose of this potion to make your husband happy."

Oh, and now she's blackmailing him with Roier's emotions. Great.

Unfortunately for the queen, Cellbit knows his husband well enough to know that, if Roier wanted him to take a potion, he would be in the room force-feeding it to him himself. He wouldn't have Cellbit's current number one worst enemy try and do it, he isn't that cruel.

...Now that Cellbit thinks of it, where is Roier?

A bolt of panic grips Cellbit around his heart and he sits up in a flash, blanket flying off of him as his entire body tenses. His ears stick up on end, straining for any sign of Roier. Nothing.

"Where is he?" Cellbit demands.

He looks around the room and sees absolutely nothing that he can use as a weapon. Great. It's fine. It's fine! He can just-

Cellbit's vision swims, and he feels himself tipping to the side and off of the bed. The queen shouts, but he can't hear whatever she says over the sound of nothingness as he loses consciousness for the second time that day.

It takes much less time for him to wake up this time. He's up and trying to get to his feet within seconds of hitting the floor, his ears flat against his head and his eyes wide with panic as he fully decides that the queen may have, in fact, killed Roier. She had Cellbit drugged and she had Roier killed and now she's going to keep Cellbit in a much worse cell and she's going to torture him until he agrees that he's her brother and-

He's shocked back to reality as a blanket is dropped over his head from above. What?

"Roier is fine," the queen gently says. She's above him now, too- on the bed, probably, why? Is she trying to smother him? "He's the one who brought you here. He and the healer went to get some ice from the kitchens. She was going to go by herself, but he wanted to make sure she wouldn't try and poison you."

What a hero. Of course Roier would worry about the ice being poisoned, he and Cellbit both know a hundred ways to poison someone. It's hard not to know how to poison people in the potion business.

...But she's lying. The queen is lying. She hasn't told Cellbit the truth once since she first barged into his store.

...But the blanket over Cellbit's head is really heavy. Was it this heavy before? No, right?

Cellbit kneads his fingers into the knees of his trousers. He twists his wedding ring around his finger. His nose twitches. His lungs hurt.

"Still works," the queen mutters. What does that mean?

A few short, yet excruciatingly-long, moments of blanket and panic later, the door to the room slams open, and a pair of beautifully-familiar boots thud towards Cellbit. A second later, the blanket is ripped off of his head, and there's Roier holding a bowl of ice and looking so handsomely concerned.

"Gatinho..." he breathes.

And then he scowls and plops onto the ground in front of Cellbit, cross-legged. He puts the bowl down on his lap, leans forward, and grabs Cellbit by the face with both hands and squishes his cheeks together.

"I fucking told you to eat!" he shouts, only halfway angry. He squishes Cellbit's cheeks harder. "And now you are on the floor. Why are you on the floor, eh?"

"He fell," the queen responds. She's still on the bed, cross-legged herself, with her chin resting against her fist. "He wanted to search for you."

Roier 'awww's once before gently shaking Cellbit's head back and forth.

"What have I told you?" he scolds. "I'll always come back for you. Even when I die, I'll just haunt you as a sexy ghost. I'm not letting any stupid queen get rid of me?"

"Hey!" the queen protests.

Cellbit smiles, though, and he reaches up to place his hands over Roier's.

"Desculpe, guapito," he says.

Roier smiles back, his anger slowly fading from his face.

"Your forehead is all purple," he tells Cellbit. "Come here..."

He takes the blanket off of the floor and wraps it around a handful of ice cubes. It's a lumpy cold mess, but it's sweet, so Cellbit doesn't complain too much as Roier softly presses the makeshift ice pack against Cellbit's forehead.

Cellbit leans into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. He bites back a happy little purr. (Not in front of the queen...!)

Someone else walks into the room, but Cellbit couldn't care less about them. They have to be the healer, but there's nothing wrong with him. Nothing he can't fix himself with the right ingredients, anyway.

He cracks an eye open and glares up at the queen, who looks... thoughtful. Uh-oh.

"I'm not taking the potion," he tells her. "I don't drink anything I don't make myself."

The queen shrugs. "That's fine, then. There's a cauldron on the other side of the room. Right, Niki?"

She looks over her shoulder, and Cellbit can just barely make out a head of pink hair. Must be 'Niki', then. The healer.

"That's right!" the healer agrees. "You can use what you want! It's all in here somewhere!"

Roier leans in close and whispers, "That's Niki. She talks a lot about empanadas."

Cellbit's stomach grumbles at the mention of food, and he groans.

"Please don't mention food right now," he sighs, voice low.

"Mmm, or I can, and you'll eat something and we can go back to our room," Roier hums. He tenderly strokes Cellbit's cheek. "I'm in the mood for empanadas right now, actually. Ah, or mixiotes... or gorditas..."

Cellbit slumps forward against Roier's shoulder, bringing the ice with him.

"Guapito, please..." he whines.

"If you're hungry, I can have any of that made for you," the queen offers.

A growl bubbles up from Cellbit's throat, but Roier covers it up with a loud, "Ah! But how do we know you won't put poison in it, hmm?"

"Because I wouldn't poison my brother or my brother-in-law? That would be ridiculous!"

"Mhmm. But how can we be sure?"

"Let Roier cook for the both of us," Cellbit says. "That way, we know for sure that it'll be safe."

A beat. And then:

"Are you being serious right now?" the queen demands. "That was why you wouldn't eat? Because your husband wasn't cooking it for you?"

Cellbit turns his head to glare up at her. "You would starve yourself, too, if you had to go from his cooking to someone else's. His food is perfect. He could be a professional, you know."

The queen looks absolutely shocked. Positively bewildered. Confused beyond all belief. Angry, too. Annoyed.

"You are. Ridiculous," she stammers out. "But... fine. Yes! You should have just asked from the beginning! Oh my gods! You should have asked!"

She continues ranting about how silly Cellbit is for not trusting her despite them literally being family, which is absolutely ridiculous because, A, they aren't family, and, B, she literally knocked him out and kidnapped him and his husband and is holding them both captive.

But Cellbit doesn't listen. Instead, he thinks. Once he's back on his feet, he can actually start investigating. And then? He and Roier can go.

His stomach grumbles again; Roier giggles and pokes at Cellbit's belly and starts listing out potential dinner options in order of Cellbit's favorites to his least favorites.

...But first, dinner.

Finally.

[xxfan-fixx]

Tbh I really like the idea of Demi Alastor and the idea of an older sister Morningstar OC/reader who is a lot like Charlie and Lucifer.

She has natural dark blonde hair and slightly more wavy, has Lilith’s eye shape and teeth, Charlie’s nose, height, and eye colors, and Lucifer’s face minus the red cheeks. Unfortunately she feels self conscious that she looks more like Lilith than Lucifer so she uses make up to make it look like she has them; she grew up not having a great relationship with Lilith but she adores Charlie and Lucifer always tried to make her feel loved.

Even though she never really liked having her photo taken there’s a small handful of photos and portraits of her (she would try to bleach her hair to look like she’s more a part of the family; she has a random genetic from her other Angel relatives who have darker hair but since two blondes don’t make anything but blonde, she has dark blonde *gotta give her some kind of alienation*) Since they’ve been close since childhood, Charlie eventually tried to make her feel better about her natural looks but she still doesn’t like her absence of red cheeks. She tries to avoid being seen without them (make up) as much as possible.

She loves learning about earthly life. She’s really passionate about human history details like style, activities, food, dances, songs.. She acts as the hotel’s chef. (Another part of my thoughts on is inspired by a fanfic based on Alastor and Older sister Reader who admitted their feelings during a ball. *heart bursting*)

~*~(AND)~*~

I have an ‘in-the-works’ sinner OC who is kind of a secret Overlord (I think), who grew up with Alastor (best-friends who had hidden feelings for each other) and when Alastor died she took it out on his killer with her signature style of unaliving people; death by food poisoning. Except that she missed him so much that she decided to go join him by poisoning herself and making sure she went to sleep before the effects took over because she was afraid of the possible pain.

In hell they met up by Alastor “catching” her with his body. He was on his way to find his second victim, and she just so happened to fall out of nowhere on top of him. She didn’t look too different from her human form, so they had a nice reunion and they’d figure out their way together in hell, growing more powerful as a duo. Eventually becoming a couple before the events of Hazbin hotel.

She’d join him at the hotel (post pilot) and become a mother figure for the crew. She’d also be some sort of confidant like Husker, but by having people sit in the kitchen while she cooks or bakes and having them be taste testers or she’d make a batch just for them or a cup of whatever drink/shake (she doesn’t poison the food because she genuinely cares for people unless they give her a reason to be weary/ like Charlie she looks for the good in others). She’d also be the only one who Husker is ok with who’s a part of Alastor’s life. With Nifty she leaves her be but Nifty loves her and likes to help clean the kitchen.

She keeps souls under her similar to Alastor but they work at her restaurant in the cannibal colony district. It’s an ever changing restaurant style she uses her magic to turn into whatever she’s deciding for that week or month. With Mimzy she’s cordial but annoyed. On the other hand, with Rosie she adores her and helps her with whatever she needs. They go shopping and have lunches together either just the two of them or with Alastor as well. In the case of Alastor’s and Vox’s rivalry, she leaves them be.

Everyone knows she’s Alastor’s girl but they don’t dare to try anything. Just incase though; when she looked over at Charlie’s phone one day when she was showing her new recipes she likes it made her want to find more, so she received a modified smart phone from Charlie who somehow has Voxtech protection (a headcanon that I have is that Vox has tried to infiltrate Lucifer’s or Charlie’s phone before but they found a way to block him). Alastor is bummed she has modern technology but the only thing she really uses it is for her restaurant and recipes. She’s like a grandma in a 30 year old’s body; having to ask the younger ones for help on the phone. It’s adorable.

(Both OC ideas are based on working as the hotel’s chef) *lol thinking about the part in episode 5 with Lucifer singing “-now that you’ve got the chef” referencing himself but a quick pan to OC/reader with a half wtf/half whatever face* (also both inserts I named in my head Genevieve “Jenny” for short- I have no clue what the sinner OC’s last name would be tho-)

Genevieve “Jenny” Morningstar is such a cute name I think for an older sister insert *im squealing*

[neiptune]

dazzling haze, mysterious way

(eren x female reader)

college au; enemies to lovers

wc: 7k+

warnings: cursing, suggestive if you squint really hard

a/n: i have no excuses for this madness, please know i am embarrassed. considering writing a part 2 if you enjoy!

Things being back home for the holidays usually means:

a) indulging in your dad’s creamy homemade hot cocoa, b) having at least one christmas movie night with Christa, c) spending half of said christmas movie night repeatedly asking Christa to put her phone down (she can text her girlfriend after Juliet answers the doorbell to find Mark carrying a boombox playing a christmas carol and large cue cards), d) getting some well deserved rest after a decent finals week

Things being back home for the holidays doesn’t usually mean:

a) forgetting your favorite sweater at your dorm like a dumbass, b) finding out your dad fell prey of food poisoning, c) having to threaten to throw your brother’s nintendo switch out the window if he doesn’t stop smoking in his room, d) being so short on money you’re forced to look for babysitting jobs to roll out the slim earnings you get from working as a tutor on campus

So here you are, buried in a gigantic white puffer jacket and handmade scarf, backpack heavy with books, DVDs, craft supplies. Here you are, ringing the doorbell of one of the fanciest houses of the entire, affluent neighborhood you’ve been directed to by the woman who had called you yesterday. You sincerely hope you didn’t get off the bus too early nor too late, as this is not really a part of your hometown you’re familiar with.

You are, however, fairly familiar with the 5’12 broad chested green eyed cable knit sweater and pajama bottoms wearing figure opening the door.

“Thanks, we don’t need anything” he says, gaze flickering over your outfit, only one second spent wondering where you could possibly be hiding a vacuum cleaner.

Does he really not recognize you? Is it the scarf or is he actually that much of an idiot?

“Does Gabi live here?” you ask, unimpressed.

His eyebrows raise in interest.

“She isn’t old enough to buy anything”

“Eren, I’m here to babysit” it feels so weird to say his name out loud to someone that isn't Mikasa or Christa. It’s weird to call him by his name while he’s there to actually hear it.

“Do I know you?” his gaze narrows, gears in his head working exceptionally hard to try and remember a face that simply isn’t familiar enough for him to pinpoint.

You sigh.

“Isn’t your mom here? She asked me to come today and has already paid in advance. I can leave but—”

He finally opens the door fully, a gust of wind makes him shiver and it finally dawns on him that it’d probably be rude to let you freeze on his doorstep.

“Come in, I’ll call her” he moves to the side and you accept the invitation with relief, hands ice cold even if buried inside your pockets.

The house is warm, smells nice and you can hear that the tv is on in the living room. You stay by the door, watch as he heads to what you can only guess is the kitchen and comes out shortly after, phone squeezed between his cheek and shoulder as he removes the hair band sitting around his wrist with his teeth.

“Hey mom” you do your best not to stare as he ties his hair back and the sweater rises up slightly, revealing part of an annoyingly toned stomach “yeah, ‘m fine. Someone’s here, she says it’s to babysit Gabi?”

However, you are staring. Which explains why you slightly jump when his gaze is suddenly on you again as he hums, listening to whatever explanation his mom is giving him.

“Ah, right. She says you already paid?”

��I can leave and send the money back” you take a small step forward but Eren motions you to keep quiet with a raise of his pointer finger.

“Okay, I got it. Yes, I’ll tell her. Thanks, you too, tell dad I said hi” he smiles softly before ending the call and shoving the phone in his pocket.

“It’s honestly my fault, I came back one day earlier than expected. She’s embarrassed and so sorry and will call you later to apologize”

“It’s really no problem, I’ll just send the payment back” you’re already with one hand on the door handle, hoping to god the next bus will come within an hour, when his fingers delicately close around your wrist.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can stay”

“There’s no need, just take the money and I’ll be on my way”

Eren suddenly furrows his brows for a second, then his hand reaches over to your scarf and gently pulls it down enough to reveal the entirety of your nose and mouth.

“Ah, you’re the tutor girl. Thought I recognized that polemic tone” and now you finally find him more familiar as well, with that snarky smirk and teasing gaze.

“I wouldn’t need to be polemic if you actually cooperated for once in your life”

He brings both hands to his chest, a fake grimace distorting his features.

“Ouch. Still can’t believe Armin describes you as pleasant to be around”

You click your tongue in annoyance.

“Likewise. I’ll send the money back when I get home” you grumble, turning around to open the door once again. It sucks, cause you need it and your house is half an hour away and it’s 28.4 °F outside, but it’s the right thing to do.

“Hey, listen” Eren doesn’t grab your wrist a second time, his hand reaches the door handle instead. In an attempt to keep it shut, he’s basically hovering above you, an invasion of your personal space so sudden you barely have the time to register that he smells sickeningly nice. Way better than you have anticipated, given that he usually looks like someone who showers once a month and even then refuses to wash his legs cause water and soap rinse down on them anyway.

“She has homework, some kind of project to do. I’m too tired to deal with it, just do the job so you can keep the money and I can keep watching house of the dragon”

“Who is that? ” a high pitched voice asks, making you jump. Eren’s infamous smirk appears once again as he leans forward even more to whisper a good luck though, she’s a pain in the ass right to the shell of your ear. The shudder is a perfectly normal, balanced reaction that you hope to fuck he doesn’t notice.

“She’s your new mom, Gab! Mine finally decided I’m the only one worth keeping around, so she’s given you up for adoption, again” he finally pulls back and winks at his sister, who returns him an unimpressed look.

“Hi, Gabi, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m just gonna be here for a few hours to keep you company” you take off your scarf and attempt a smile. The petite, young girl staring back at you seems offended.

“I don’t need a babysitter, I’m twelve”

God, she really is his sister. The medium length black hair half tied above her head with large strands framing each side of a very skeptical face is the same as his, only darker.

“Have fun” Eren grins, patting your shoulder once before disappearing into the living room once again.

You clear your throat and kneel down to place your backpack on the floor, unzipping your jacket in an effort to stop sweating. What do they have in the house, radiators buried in the damn walls? 

“I’m not here to babysit” you smile again “I won’t even bother you if you don’t want me to. Just thought I could give you a hand to finish whatever schoolwork you may have, so you can enjoy the rest of the holidays doing whatever you like”

Gabi weighs her options, studying you for a few moments. She knows she’s gonna have to do her homework anyway, sooner or later, so if this stranger suddenly appearing at her house is going to be there regardless, she might as well be of use.

“Whaddya have in there?” she suspiciously eyes your backpack and you zip it open to give her free peeking access. Gabi kneels on the carpet as well, snooping around the content of the indigo eastpak. “These movies are lame” she grumbles, holding one of the DVDs in between her pointer and middle finger.

You fake a gasp.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that Balto is an all time classic” you grumble back, taking the DVD back. Gabi fights the smile already tugging at her lips. She usually likes adults who talk to her as if she’s one of them, and you seem kinda fun. But it’s too early to let you know.

“What’s the crafting stuff for? I’m not three” she bites again, standing up with her arms crossed. You shrug.

“Those are for me, in case I get bored. I create killer notebooks from scratch, sometimes a pinwheel or two if I feel inspired enough” you casually wink, finally taking off your jacket and hanging it by the door, over your scarf.

“So, I guess, if you don’t want my help I may as well go craft myself something” you dramatically sigh, throwing your backpack over one shoulder and starting to march towards the living room.

“Actually, I kinda have a project for school” she mumbles under her breath, still loud enough for you to hear.

“Oh?” you turn around, brows raised.

“I have to make a snow globe and associate a story with it”

“D’you think I could help with that?”

She casually scratches her nose, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

“Okay”

“How did you even manage to fit all that in one backpack?” Gabi eyes the materials scattered on the kitchen table, appalled. There’s paint, fake snow, fishing line, brushes, some small wooden decorations, ribbons, a glue gun.

“I have my ways” you chuckle “do you have everything we need?”

“I guess” she sounds skeptical, your favorite emotion to work with.

“Great! Let’s wash the container first, use warm soapy water and scrub well”

“Aren’t you supposed to do that?”

“Nope” you pop the p “you’re the one in charge, remember?”

She snorts but heads to the sink anyway, to do as instructed. You wait at the table, foot tapping lightly on the polished parquet floor. When she comes back and sits next to you, you can tell that she’s holding back some curiosity about how the whole thing is going to turn out.

“Wanna pick the decorations we’re going to use?” you smile, pushing the small wooden figures towards her “I have stars, trees, a truck, a bear, I think that’s a reindeer and, well, a slightly crooked snowman”

Gabi takes the decorations in her hands one by one, carefully inspecting each of them, pensive. The crests forming on her forehead as she focuses remind you of the exact same ones Eren gets when trying to understand how to solve a problem sheet.

“Let’s use the stars, the trees and the crooked snowman. We could give him a nice story”

“Sounds good to me. Wanna do the honors?” you ask, handing her a brush.

“I get to paint them?” her voice comes out slightly squeaky, coated with genuine excitement and, as you nod, she finally rewards you with a big, warm smile.

With your chin resting in the palm of your hand, you fondly watch as she focuses on making the stars, the trees and the snowman come alive with gentle strokes of color. She’s pretty talented and gets into it soon, asking for your opinion from time to time. As soon as she’s finished with the stars, you cut two pieces of fishing line and glue the stars onto one end. Then you take the other end and glue it to the inside of the lid, letting the stars dangle downward. This earns you a wow, you’re actually good at this stuff.

Time passes comfortably as you continue to work on the little project. You help Gabi glue the red ribbon around the (now painted green) lid, adding some twine to keep it in place. She fills the inside of the container with the fake snow and insists on getting some pink glitter from her room to give the snow more character. Lastly, she carefully glues down the decorations in the container, places the lid on top and snaps it closed.

When Eren steps into the kitchen, almost two hours later, he briefly stops to take in the view of you two bent over the messiest table he’s ever seen, paper sheets and colored pencils scattered everywhere as you confabulate in soft whispers occasionally interrupted by genuine giggles. He doesn’t remember seeing his little sister giggle with a stranger, like, ever.

“What’re you doing?” he inquires, finally bringing himself to interrupt the magical exchange he’s witnessing. You both look up as he approaches the table and Gabi proudly indicates your work of art.

“We made a snow globe!” she announces.

“Did you, now?” Eren fails to hold back a smile as he takes a look, carefully twisting the container in his hands.

“And we’re giving the snowman a story” Gabi grins, handing him one of the sheets on which she has drawn a scene from the tale you’re both trying to come up with.

His gaze flickers on you, amused, as if waiting for you to add something.

“His name’s Holly” your smile is uncharacteristically sheepish as you take back the page from his hands, accidentally grazing his fingers.

“Holly Berry” Gabi clarifies, which causes another sudden fit of laughter Eren can’t help but feel dragged into. He doesn’t really understand why or how he ends up sitting at the table as well, examining each drawing and handwritten paragraph you have produced. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment he starts coming up with ideas for the plot himself, suggesting that Holly Berry was actually a human raised in a village of snowmen for so long he eventually turned into one, although slightly imperfect, thus not always treated kindly by his fellow villagers. Eren Yeager actually takes a pencil in his hand and starts sketching drawings of gingerbread houses, candy cane forests and lakes of ribbon candies. He gives Holly Berry a human face and is offended by the way you steal the pencil from in between his fingers, mumbling that those features resemble more a potato than a human being. And yet he isn’t offended for long, because you reach across the table to fix the sketch with decisive and unforgiving strokes, but he can smell your shampoo and feel the warmth radiating from your face on his, so he has to lean forward just a tiny bit more.

“It does look better like this”, he concedes. The slight gruffness punctuating his words makes you look up and pull back to your chair immediately, in what definitely isn’t a suave motion. You know how attractive he is, because you’re not blind nor an idiot, although you’ve never been this close to him. He appears to reach a whole new level of attractiveness when his features are relaxed, cheeks slightly dusted with pink, eyes focused on whatever his skilled hands are tracing on a page. What makes it worse, is that he clearly knows. Which is not a bad thing per se, but just adds perfectly to that asshole attitude of his.

You know Eren Yeager because he’s like a celebrity. Best player of the Trost University men’s basketball team, decent grades, a party thrower that usually spends said parties sitting in a corner making out with hot girls, part of a large, loud group of friends, doesn’t smile much in public, usually dresses in black. You’ve seen him around campus for so long and yet only got to talk to him once, because of Armin, who works as a tutor as well. One afternoon, Eren had suddenly decided to barge in your friendly study session, annoyingly talking over and over and over again about trivial matters, not even acknowleding your presence until you asked him if he was aware of the interruption he was causing.

“Sorry, you are?”

“This is y/n, we tutor students together”, Armin cleared his throat, uncomfortable, apologetic gaze finding your annoyed one.

Eren had barely spared you a glance and a slight nod.

“’Kay, well, can’t you leave early today? Jean’s being a massive pain in my ass about tonight’s party and-”

“He can’t leave early, we’re busy”, you cut him off impatiently, pencil drumming on the textbook page opened in front of you.

He looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were still there.

“Listen, this kinda doesn’t concern you so can you give us a sec?”

Armin sighed as you put down the pencil in disbelief.

“No, I can’t give you a sec. I’m waiting for you to leave so we can resume a work that kinda doesn’t concern you”

With his eyebrow muscle contracting involuntarily in a twitch, Eren suddenly slammed his backpack onto the table, pulled out two thick textbooks, a notebook, one pencil, and stared at you with a challenging look in his sage gaze.

“It does now. I need help with this assignment”

Armin rolled his eyes as you pursed your lips, incredulous at such nerve.

“D’you think this is some sort of game?”

“Nah, a game would require you to remove that stick up your ass”

“Eren!”, Armin elbowed him in the arm, cheeks burning from an embarrassment that shouldn’t have been his.

So, in both your mind and conversations with friends, he became asshole, drunk on self-confidence, narcissistic Eren Yeager. Someone should’ve told him that being hot doesn’t give you a free card to also be a cocky fucker, so you simply won’t allow to whatever magic he works on everyone else to affect you as well. Even if his smile is warm as he jokingly throws a crumpled up piece of paper to his little sister, even if that dishevelled bun gives him a laid back look you can’t help but feel drawn to because it’s real, void of his usual, arrogant nonchalance.

“I’m kinda hungry” Gabi says after a while.

Eren glances at the clock hanging over the counter.

“Well, dad’s conference’s gonna last at least two more hours. Whatcha feel like eating? Grilled cheese?”

Her nose scrunches up in a disgusted but cute grimace.

“I’d like real food”

“Didn’t know bread and cheese were considered abstract food”

You can’t help but chuckle at the exchange and, as they both direct their gazes at you, an idea pops in your head.

“I could make noodles?”

Gabi perks up noticeably.

“Sure, we should have some instant noodles somewhere”, Eren gets up and walks towards the stove to start checking in drawers and cupboards. You get up as well, gently pushing him aside to grab a cutting board and carefully select what you need from the spices and sauces shelf: curry, cumin, white pepper, soy sauce. He looks at you, appalled, which makes you laugh again.

“I mean, I can make them from scratch if you don’t mind me messin' up your kitchen a bit. It’s healthier” you suggest with a shrug.

“Yes please!” Gabi cheers as her brother rolls his eyes at the enthusiasm. How on fuck did you manage to make her warm up to you that much in such a short time?

“I feel like you don’t get paid enough for this” he mumbles, to which you scoff.

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s nothing. Gabi, why don’t you keep working in the living room? I’ll have to set the table” you turn around to glance at her and she gets up right away, diligently collecting everything she needs in her little arms. Eren waits until she’s out of the room to lean on the counter, arms crossed as he follows your every movement around the kitchen.

“Can you stop staring?” you ask, focused on emptying a generous amount of sesame oil in a non-stick frying pan.

“Why, do I make you nervous?”

“If you’re asking whether your presence is bothersome, the answer’s yes”

An amused smile tugs at his lips as he watches you cut a red onion into thin wedges and then add them to the pan while softly humming.

“Didn’t know we’re from the same town” Eren finds it only slightly annoying that you’re being such a sealed box to him. He’s seen the warmth you have so effortlessly unleashed on his sister and can now find it less astonishing, the fact that his best friend likes spending time with you.

You snort as you keep cutting other ingredients: mangetout, some baby park choi, three spring onions, baby corn. You’re good at it, even if you’re so fast his eyes can’t help but nervously flicker from your face to your fingers, tense at the idea that you migth cut off one of your digits. In his kitchen.

“Can you even remember my name?” the question is dripping with sarcasm but your hands are forced to come to a halt when he mutters it without hesitation. He finds pleasure in proving you wrong, in witnessing the way your shoulders had slightly jumped up in surprise. And you feel brain stuck on how his lips must’ve wrapped around your name, making it sound so much better than what you’re used to. It’s just a name and he’s just a guy, what kinda freaky black magic is he working?

“My sister likes you” as much as it’s fun to tease, he finds he enjoys seeing you at ease, relaxed enough to spend an entire afternoon giggling with a twelve year old and actually enjoying it. It works, because you instantly offer a gentle smile as you crush a large garlic clove with the pressure of your palm on the knife you’ve been using.

“I like her, too. It’s scary how clever she is”

“Runs in the family”

To his surpise, you can’t help but let out an airy laugh. It’s authentic, definitely not coated with snark, and he likes it. How many more times could he make you laugh like that again, he wonders?

“Can you pass me some udon noodles?” you ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence. By now everything you’re frying in that pan looks and smells delicious, the curry powder and soy sauce have given all ingredients a golden brown appearence that makes his stomach rumble. As you add some previously heated water to the pan, you can hear Eren opening drawer after drawer, until the distinct sound of plastic being ripped open makes you think he’s found what he’s looking for. You don’t have the time to turn around and reach out to grab the pack of noodles from his hand because he’s already right behind you, so close his chest actually presses to your back for a second as he reaches over to pour the noodles in the pan himself, his other hand casually gripping the counter inches away from your hip. The proximity is unexpected, shocking and pleasantly warm, so you swallow and clench the handle of the wooden spoon you’re using to stir the ingredients.

“Set the table, please” the strangled way words come out makes it sound as if you’re begging, which would usually entertain him but for some reason he can’t bring himself to find it funny, the way you’re luring him in. In fact, the whole situation is so far from being funny, he has to force his body to move away from yours and towards the cabinet where his mom keeps the plates, because what would become of him if you sensed he was on the verge of getting fucking hard from the domesticity of it all? For someone he’s never even actually talked to, no less. What kinda fucked up witchcraft were you practicing? And what on earth did you even use to wash your hair?

It’s soft, the way you call Gabi once the food is ready and it’s playful, the way you urge her to turn around and go wash her hands first, as she dramatically sighs but complies nevertheless. Against all odds where odds = vegetables, she ends up devouring two servings of what, he has to admit, is the best yaki udon he’s ever had. You’re barely picking at your small portion, too busy making sure Gabi eats all she wants.

By the end of a dinner mostly spent coming up with more story options for Holly Berry and giving patient answers to the hundreds questions Gabi has directed your way (Eren now knows your favorite color is turquoise, your younger brother’s name, what you’re going to give Christa as a christmas gift, when your birthday is, which exam took you the longest to study for) he has to insist both of you leave the dishes to him and go finish Holly’s story. You protest—it’s his house and you’re being paid to work—but he simply motions Gabi to drag you away and she surely complies, her small hand closing around yours to not so gently guide you out of the kitchen.

It’s hard not to marvel at the Yeagers’ living room, fire crackling in the wreath covered white marble fireplace beneath the 80+ inch tv mounted to the wall. In the corner stands a second christmas tree (they have one by the kitchen door as well), twice as high, glistening with golden and silver decorations, red ribbons sitting on alternated branches. The big, sectional sofa is covered in what’s probably soft leather and curled up on it is a snoozing tabby cat. Gabi drags you to the right side of the gigantic room, where a bigger, more elegant table stands in front of a gorgeous library with egg-crate shelves filled with books, finely framed family pictures, candles and white Chinese vases decorated with blue patterns made of dragons, clouds, tree branches filled with tiny flowers.

Of course Gabi has made a mess of the table but you smile as you sit, closer this time, letting her fill you up with the latest details she’s come up with for the now almost ten pages long story. She asks you to produce a few more sketches as she focuses on writing the big conclusion and you abide, the snow globe you have both created sitting in your periphereal view right next to your left arm.

“Are you gonna come over again?” she asks without looking up from the snow covered village she’s coloring in.

“If I’m needed and you don’t mind, sure” you smile, not looking at her either.

“What will we do if I don’t have any other schoolwork?”

“We could bake, start a puzzle, come up with another story to fill one of my killer notebooks in. Whatever you’d like”

This time she does look up to meet your gaze and you’re surprised to see the blush blossoming on her cheeks.

“Next time I could show you my room” she suggests while twisting an orange colored pencil in her hand.

“I’d love that” you smile again and she relaxes on the chair, acknowledging your reply with a slight nod.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re done. The story is complete (Holly eventually turns back into a human but decides not to leave the village he grew up in, to protect his friends and make sure his family of snowmen never melts) and the drawings are a wonderful addition to a heartwarming tale you’re sure her teacher is going to appreciate. You get up and help her tidy up the mess scattered across the table. As paper sheets are neatly piled, glitter pens are reunited with their caps as colored pencils with their box and the table is cleared of colorful shavings, Eren returns from the kitchen with hands buried in the pockets of his pajama bottoms and a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“So? How does Holly’s story end?” he asks, not once looking away from you.

“You’ll have to read it to find out” is the playful reply he gets and Eren crosses his heart that he will, in fact, read Holly Berry’s story. It’s only fair.

“I have to go now” you smile down at Gabi “I’ve had so much fun today, thank you for trusting me with your project”

She opens her mouth in a disappointed expression, hand reaching up to grab your sleeve and lightly pull.

“But we still have to watch that lame movie of yours!” she protests, outraged.

“Hey, I have already asked you to respect Balto” you jokingly reproach her “we’ll watch it next time, promise”

“Please, I want to watch it tonight! I won’t call it lame again!”

“Gabi, it’s really late—”

“Can I bribe you with hot cocoa?” Eren’s voice is softer than expected, which causes you to look at him, startled. Why isn’t he beaming at the idea of you finally leaving?

“With marshmallows” Gabi adds, tugging at your sleeve once again.

“Unless you’re so sick of my little sister you’re anxious to leave as soon as you can”

Low fucking blow.

“So long as I don’t miss the last bus home” you sigh, having barely the time to spare his smirk a glare before Gabi drags you all the way to the couch and promptly runs to the kitchen to get your backpack right after you fall on the soft fabric, waking the cat up. It’s not diffident as you might expect and after carefully sniffing the two fingers you politely offer as a personal introduction, it simply hops on your lap to curl up once again. A soft but demanding meow seems to ask for head scratches and, obviously, there’s nothing left to do but to comply.

“Are you plannin’ on winnin’ over every single Yeager family member?”

You don’t look at him, a weak attempt of playing your uneasiness off as indifference. But if there’s one thing you can’t guess about Eren Yeager, is that he’s in no rush, ever. Contrary to popular belief, he likes taking his time.

He’s not sure what it is about you, a stranger who’s barged in unannounced (well, to him, anyway) only to so effortlessly light up each room they’ve walked into. Someone capable of earning Gabi’s affection in such a short amount of time is bound to intrigue him at the very least, it’s normal, nothing unusual there. Right?

So what could be bothering him so much, he wonders while stirring cocoa powder, sugar, milk and salt in a saucepan. You haven’t been hostile, well, you’ve tried, but you were just unable to keep the facade up. You’ve laughed and smiled and joked and he feels this weird sting in the back of his throat just thinking about how nice of a person you must be on the daily, probably as good as the scent you carry around, and Eren has never wanted something as much as he now wants the book Christa is about to get as a christmas gift.

His hands are certainly big enough to comfortably balance tre mugs to bring to the couch with no risk of spilling but you’re so quick to turn around and reach over to get one, a soft I got it muttered with urgency as you pass the mug to Gabi and extend your hand to grab yours next. It’s probably for the best that his younger sister sits between the two of you and it makes him smile how invested she already is in a movie she didn’t even want to watch in the first place. The smile is still there when you both turn to look at him and laugh, Gabi pointing to his lips as he rolls his eyes and licks them clean of any whipped cream remains.

Gabi’s commentary slowly decreases in frequency and after ten minutes of silence, right as Balto and the sled team finally make it back to Nome, you feel a sudden, light weight on your shoulder. As you carefully take the empty mug out of her hands and place it on the coffee table, next to yours, you whisper an almost inaudible Eren.

“Should’ve guessed” the remark is gentle and there’s fondness in his gaze as he gets up to slowly pick his sister up, her arms finding their way around his neck as he balances her against his shoulder with a small hop.

“Be right back”  he whispers and you hum, briefly allowing your gaze to follow him as he exits the room, headed to the stairs. You get up as well, collect the emptied mugs and take them to the kitchen. Even if it’s late, so late you’ll probably have to find a cab and spend a fortune to reach your house, the least you can do is wash them and put them away. It’s been a long day but you’re not tired, quite the opposite actually. For whatever reason, you feel so on edge all you know is it’s time to leave that weird house, filled with a weird warmth that barely allows you to catch your breath, and get back to the comfort of your bed with its ice blue duvet and soft pillows.

“You’re missing the movie” the weird warmth carrier himself speaks, arms crossed, leaning into the door frame of the room as you dry your hands on your jeans.

“It’s for the best, I always cry at the end” you let out a faint chuckle and he mirrors it with a smile. He’s changed clothes and is now wearing a pair of washed out jeans and a v-neck shirt that has your gaze inevitably flicker to part of his inner forearm tattoo, one you can’t completely see because of how he’s standing. Does he also have one on his collarbone or are you seeing things?

“Before or after Rosy stops by the memorial in Central Park to thank Balto?”

“You’ve watched it! ” it’s hard to suppress the surprised smile immediately stretching your lips, the excitement in your voice. Damn it.

“And cried” he shrugs and you scoff as you walk past him to get your jacket from the coat rack by the front door.

“I’ll believe it when I see it” you put it on and pull the zipper, feeling some sort of discomfort on your back as you reach to grab your scarf too.

He’s in front of you in the blink of an eye, his hands casually slipping past and under the collar of your puffer jacket, fingers warm against your skin, nails only slightly grazing your neck as he fiddles around to pull out the hood of your sweatshirt. His fingers linger by your now feverish skin a few more seconds, definitely more than they should for someone who merely wanted to be of assistance.

Eren’s literally on the verge of asking you to stay. It doesn’t make sense, it’s ridiculous and lowkey pathetic, but he’s oh so bothered by the idea of losing whatever sudden, fragile wire you had managed to tie in the course of one afternoon. He wonders if you feel it, the way he’s so eerily drawn to you. And it’s not just because he hasn’t been laid in weeks (lost a bet to Connie and is now forced to keep it in his pants for a month), it’s not because he likes a challenge nor because he knows he’s been an asshole. You just feel so authentic. Unexpected.

As you let out a quivering breath, green eyes silently asking yours something you absolutely cannot pinpoint, the front door unlocks and your neck is left cold once again.

Eren’s parents come inside, his mom is a little taken aback at first but then puts the pieces together and begins to profusely apologize for both not having warned you that her son was back early and the fact that it’s so late you’ve probably already missed the last bus home.

“Please don’t worry about it, I had the best time with Gabi” you smile shyly, palms raised in an attempt to quell the string of embarrassed apologies threatening to submerge you. Carla looks at her son for some sort of reassurance, brows still distressingly furrowed.

Eren hums from behind you.

“Can’t remember the last time she had so much fun. She’s already asleep”

They both smile and Grisha gives you a soft nod while taking off his coat.

“Thank you. We know she’s not the easiest to deal with”

“Took her ten minutes to win her over” Eren speaks again, he feels closer this time but you don’t dare turn around. Carla puts both her hands on your shoulders and squeezes lightly.

“Please accept an extra for the trouble”

“There’s been no trouble Mrs. Yeager, I promise” you attempt a reassuring smile and she sighs, turning to look at her husband with a troubled look in her big eyes.

“Let us call you a cab at least” phone is already in his hand as he gently pushes back the thin framed glasses on his nose.

“No need dad, I’ll drop her off”

This time you do turn around, mouth open on the verge of objection, but he’s already put a jacket on and has your backpack in his hand.

“Good idea. Take my car” Grisha takes the keys out of the pocket of his now hung coat and casually throws them at his son.

“You really don’t need to” you do your best to sound polite but Eren can see the daggers you’re shooting him and simply smirks, eyes rolling by default.

“Always so polemic” he mutters under his breath as his dad opens the front door once again and there’s really nothing left to do but to sigh into your scarf, repeat ten more times or so that you had a wonderful time with Gabi and you’d be happy to be back whenever they’d need you to and awkwardly return the hug Carla decides to abruptly give you on your way out.

You climb onto the passenger seat of the black mercedes-benz waiting by the end of the driveway and you exhale with relief as your butt comes in contact with the heated leather of the seat.

“I meant it, y’know. I live half an hour away” you mutter while fiddling to fasten your seatbelt. Eren glances at the rear window as he skillfully turns the steering wheel, one hand closing on the gear knob to move the lever gently.

“D’you always protest against everything?” the question is friendly as he releases the clutch pedal and presses on the accelerator. The engine purrs pleasantly underneath you.

“If needed” you shrug, determined to focus on the houses and gardens you’re driving by at a sustained speed. It’s dark enough for you can spot glistening trees by windows and sparkly christmas decorations in yards. You briefly wonder if your dad’s feeling better, good enough to have had a few spoons of the soup you’ve left him.

“You forgot the movie at mine” Eren says, with studied casualness. It’s the perfect excuse to ask you to come over again, or to bring it back himself. Hell, he will hand it to you in the middle of any class if he has to.

“Let it be my christmas gift to Gabi. She never got to see how it ends”

His hand tightens around the steering wheel.

“How’re you so good with kids?”

Finally, you turn to peer at him, head pressed against the warm leather seat. It’s kinda annoying, how he’s wearing a jacket, because you still can’t find out what his tattoo looks like. However, you do take notice of how pretty his nose is, of the shape of his jawline and of how the intermittent, orangy light of street lamps shines on the darkness of his hair, eyebrows, eyelashes. And who even has cheekbones like that?

When his gaze flickers to you with a soft yet amused, questioning hum, you remember he’d asked you a question.

“I used to take care of my brother when dad was at work” you clear your throat, directing your attention to the road in front of you once again “and I like spending time with ‘em. It’s a nice break from adulthood”

He hums again but this time you don’t dare look at him.

“So you’re good with kids, school, great at drawing and cooking. Is there something you’re bad at?”

“So many things” you softly chuckle “besides, you’re good with kids and at drawing too”

“How d’you know? That I’m good with kids”

“Gabi told me you’re the best brother in the world. But you haven’t heard it from me”

“Not really a secret, I already knew that” he sounds cocky but you can guess from his tone that he's smiling. All day long he’s looked at his sister with a fondness impossible to conceal, the kind that stems from pure, raw affection. The kind that soothed you, because how to not be happy before the evidence of Gabi having an older brother that loves her so much? It reminded you of how you used to be with your brother, the way he’d scoff and tell your dad never to leave him with you all day again, only to slide onto the mattress beside you in the middle of the night.

“I wish I still had a little brother to take care of” you find yourself mumbling.

Eren glances at you, to his annoyance you’re still facing the other way.

“How old is he?”

“Old enough to smoke in his room but still dumb enough to think I can’t smell it” you snort and he laughs a genuine laugh. The car stops at a red light, even though the streets are empty. It’s good to know that he drives responsibly, or maybe it’s just because it’s his dad’s car, who knows.

“I’ll have to teach him my ways, he’ll never get caught again” he’s half joking but you pull a face, rolling your eyes.

“You would” it’s inevitable, turning your head to look at him again. It’s also a big ass mistake, because who in hell looks that attractive underneath a basic, red traffic light?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” his pitch is amused but the way he’s staring at you almost, almost makes you wince. Okay so, eyes? Dangerous. Note taken. You focus on the bridge of his nose instead.

“You seem like the type of person to do that. Get away with things”

Eren Yeager isn’t one to get insecure. In fact, he doesn’t even remember the last time he has felt uncertainty, or self-doubt. And now he ever so slightly shuffles in his seat, suddenly self-conscious and preoccupied with what you think of him. Not concerned with the superficial thoughts you might have about his cocky attitude or vanity, he’s worried about what you might think of him as a person. How bad does your opinion actually get?

“And you don’t like that” he states, with studied but careful measure. You frown.

“Well, duh. You just volunteered to cover for my brother”

He lets out a puff of air from his nose, both relieved and annoyed at your humor. Guess he’ll have to add deflecting to the list of things you’re good at.

“What did you get him for christmas?” he asks as his eyes are on the road again, the traffic light turning green. Safe from his piercing gaze, you don’t look away yet.

“The new pokemon legends game so he can say I’m the best sister in the world and forget about it ten minutes later” Eren’s smile mirrors yours by default as his grip on the steering wheel relaxes.

“What’s Gabi going to get?”

“A portable speaker, so she can blast Taylor Swift for the whole neighborhood to hear”

“Excellent music taste” you grin and he rolls his eyes with fake exhaustion.

The rest of the trip is comfortably quiet and so peaceful you struggle to keep your eyes open. When the car stops right before your house and you reach across the backseat to grab your backpack, there’s a weird gloom churning in the pit of your stomach. You clear your throat as you unlock the door, one leg already out of the vehicle.

“Thank you” your tone is soft as you glance at him one last time. Eren nods, hands now awkwardly resting on his knees.

You step out of the car and close the door as delicately as possible.

Things being back home for the holidays usually means:

a)indulging in your dad’s creamy homemade hot cocoa, b) having at least one christmas movie night with Christa, c) hugging your brother until he pinches your hip because he can’t breathe from how tight you're squeezing him, d) cooking and eating and napping on repeat

Things being back home for the holidays doesn’t usually mean:

a) forgetting your favorite sweater at your dorm like a dumbass, b) finding out your dad fell prey of food poisoning, c) acknowledging that your favorite blanket is nowhere to be found, d) having Eren Yeager call you by your name right after you step out of his car, only to peer at you with staggering eyes and ask

“What are you doing on new year’s eve?”

part 2

[strawberryforks]

quite the pair // jason todd x reader

summary: you and jason are bestfriends, partners, and you’re sick.

warnings: swearing, alludes to assualt, violence, throwing up

word count: 1961

there was more to jason todd than met the eye. he didn’t make friends easily but he was a good one. he had you, who he met in the streets, back when he was living there. who smiled at him and handed him a can of corn that had it not been unopened, he would’ve swore was poisoned. or a disguised explosive. or… well, he didn’t know, but nothing good ever came for free.

he needed to repay you somehow so he stuck around. he didn’t do anything but he watched. observed.

you were skin and bones; the picture of malnutrition. you shivered and your teeth gnashed against each other while you slept, leaning against the side of a green bin. you had a blanket for the longest time and then you didn’t. he’d come back from stealing and selling tires to find the only warmth you had was your own embrace.

your arms were wrapped tightly around yourself and you rocked back and forth. the only sound in the entire alleyway, as he approached, was your breathing and the thrumming of your head as you banged it lightly on the metal behind you. you heard his footsteps, heard them get louder, heard him get closer, heard them stop in front of you but still, you kept your eyes shut tight. you didn’t have anything else to give, you couldn’t help anymore, and more than that, you couldn’t bare to see the disappointment in someone’s eyes when you turned them down.

it was dark–you recall it being around midnight because moments before the footsteps, before meeting the boy who’d come to change your life, you were staring up at the sky. clouds were thick and dark but moonlight sat behind them, just a lighter patch in the sky, waiting for it’s chance. the stars, though, there were none. the closest to that you had gotten that night was when a man flicked away the ash from his cigarette. on it’s decent to the puddle ridden asphalt it glowed a deep orange. like a shooting star, hell, like a meteor, you wished on it. you don’t remember what you wished for, just that it came true. you felt wind in your face and fabric was draped over your shoulders, then there were hands.

“up you go,” jason encouraged. he’d pulled you into his side, given you his sweater, and got some food into you.

he’d more than repaid the debt but… you did your part too. you made him smile–a feat he didn’t think was even possible, having not used what he assumed were dead and decaying muscles, in so long. you told dumb jokes but they made him laugh so you didn’t care, you called him jay and you helped when you could. he kept you as close to him at all times as he could.

gotham was a dangerous place. it was too dangerous for someone as good as you, but he couldn’t help that. he couldn’t make the world a better so he had to make you worse–because your trusting nature? your tendency to see the best in people? to smile at strangers and go without so someone else wouldn’t have to? it fucking terrified him.

he brought you with him one night, and made you a witness to various crimes. each time, he quieted you, pressed his hand over your mouth and whispered horrors he’d seen. he told you how the world was and how it worked.

but until something happened to you, until jason came back from stealing and saw a man hurting you, you didn’t believe that the whole world was awful. until jason slammed a tire rim into him, staining it red and leaving him limp, you thought there was some good. then you didn’t. you realised there wasn’t.

and then? then batman took you both in. the batman. bruce-motherfucking-wayne decided to play dad to two homeless, orphaned, violent, and thieving teenagers.

at first he just wanted to take jason. he had no interest in raising a girl but when he looked at you, watched you hug jason, whisper “goodbye,” and saw you ready to sprint away, it was decided.

the world was selfish and in a way it had made you selfish too. but there was one person you were willing to be unselfish for and it was him. jason todd. your jay. you wanted what was best for him, you’d live on the streets, die there too, if that’s what it took. then, batman, who’d decided he also wanted what was best for jason, realised that it was you. you were what he needed.

both of you were placed in the backseat of the batmobile that’s tires, much to jason’s displeasure, were still in place.

then you were brought to your new home. it had more to offer than the occasional canned food and bread crumbs. you didn’t have to dumpster dive, didn’t have to struggle. there were heaters and blankets and stocked cupboards and even a butler named alfred.

batman didn’t have plans for you, just jason, who he wanted as his robin. you never liked feeling left out so you trained too. just… privately at first. sitting on jason’s bed (you weren’t yet comfortable sleeping anywhere he wasn’t and batman came to realise that superhero–super vigilante, or whatever, it didn’t matter because there was absolutely nothing short of attaching a ball and chain to both of your ankles that he could do about it) you swung your legs over the edge, them not quite hitting the floor, and made what jason thought was small talk. idle conversation.

“so, how was training?” he dabbed at his face with a cloth, collecting sweat, and sighed. he didn’t mind training, i mean, he thought it sucked, but liked that there was a goal to work towards, and that the goal was him being stronger, and that if he was stronger no one would ever be able to hurt anyone he cared about–there was only you–ever again. “what did batman make you do today? anything different?”

“well,” said jason. “we sparred today. i ran on the treadmill, lifted weights, and i think he made me do, like, 1000 pushups.” jason may have exaggerated there, but you didn’t quite understand. sarcasm, hyperboles, they weren’t your forte. it took you a full twenty four hours, but in sets of ten, you managed. you fought one of the pillows in your room–not well, but you did, and ran around the bed that you’d pulled into the centre of the room until you were panting. the next day you couldn’t spoon fucking cereal into your mouth but six months later batman finally caved.

“train me.” you said, not begging anymore–long past that actually. “i can do just as many pushups as jason can. i can run fast. i can do good, batman. i know i can. i know there's not enough good in the world, that it’s a shit place and that there’s shit people but i’m not one of them. i’ll do good, be good. i swear.”

“you can train but for self defence purposes. robin and i have the crime fighting handled.”

“i’ve been training. i want to train with you and jay. if there's something i can’t do i’ll sit out, you won’t have to babysit me, i won’t say a single word. just let me try. if i fail i’ll drop it.”

when batman tries to make you fail your odds aren’t great. when your best friend, his sidekick, taps out before you do, they improve drastically.

with the bat’s stamp of approval you kept training and training. you patrolled with them, with jason, and while jason was robin you were batgirl. at 18 (you) and 19 (jason) the two of you go out on your own without batman, he checks on you sometimes but doesn’t feel the need to chaperone you on your crime fighting endeavours.

it’s around ten pm, when the crime picks up in the streets, and jason is beginning to get impatient. you’re not the most punctual but right now you’re really late. he could start without you, scale a building and begin searching for some drug deal to bust or mugging to stop. he could… but he doesn’t. jason–well, robin, pulls out his phone and calls you. you’re in bed, not dressed in your suit, and it’s all you can do to roll over. you slide your thumb against your screen, answering with a barely audible groan. your face is pressed into the blanket and jason’s voice spills through the speaker. “where are you?”

“m’home…” you manage.

“what’s wrong? did something happen? home as in the apartment or–screw it,” jason is standing up, he’s checking your location himself, seeing that you’re at the wayne manor and sprinting back the way he came.

“jay it’s okay. i’m fine, just sick.”

“i’m coming home.”

“no,” you whine, “you have patrol. protect the city and the people. duty and…” you cough. rub your throat, “whatnot.”

jason doesn’t respond but you know he’s not listening. you hear the sound of clothes being removed and assume he’s changing out of his suit.

you roll your eyes, he really is stubborn. you try again “you’re a hero, jay.” what’s supposed to be a motivational speech is interrupted by a coughing fit. you slam your finger down on the mute button and press your face into the big bowl you took from the cabinet, retching.

when you’re done, you hit unmute. “you’ve got to do your thing and save the world.” your voice is scratchy, your throat hurts. your ribs too. you’ve been in serious battles less painful–against two face, the joker. being sick sucks.

“i plan to. but my world’s at home in bed, coughing her lungs out. i’m stopping at the drug store and i’ll be home, ‘kay?”

“okay…”

jason makes you stay on the phone until he walks through the door. he hangs up and helps you to the bathroom. “you should’ve told me you were puking i would’ve grabbed some pepto,” you shake your head, “wouldn't be able to keep it down,” and watch as he not-so-subtly attempts to slide the bag of your favourite candies behind him. your smile comes out pained as another wave of nausea hits and you’re in the bathroom dry heaving above the toilet. he holds your hair back (if it’s shorter, he rubs your scalp soothingly) and when you’re done, helps you back to the bed.

he’s walking around you, doting. there’s a water and ibuprofen on the nightstand, he’s brought you a heating pad, filled a hot water bottle, and pulled the blankets all the way up. tucking them under your chin. he’s checked your temperature twice and walks back in front of the bed toying with the thermometer. “jay, stop pacing.”

“are you okay? should i get alfred?”

“i’ll be fine. either leave so you don’t get sick or come here,” you pat the spot next to you and jason walks over, lowering himself down onto the bed and pulling you into his arms. he kisses your forehead, “my immune system seems to be a lot stronger than yours, batgirl.”

“mhm,” you agree. “all the training in the world couldn’t help that, robin.”

jason grumbled and you raised a brow. “still mad about that?”

“that you got the bat prefix? nah, i’m happy being a sidekick named after a bird. ‘course i’m mad. not at you though.” never at you is what he leaves out, “at batman. my hero name could’ve been way cooler.”

“are you telling me you’d rather be batboy?” you ask, tone incredulous.

he chuckles, shoulders raising in a shrug. “we’d make quite the pair.”

“we already do, dummy.”

that night batman covers for you two–he patrols and you stay in your partners arms, recovering. later, he helps alfred make you soup. everything is easy with him. even getting better.

[totowlff]

chapter four — distance education

➝ nobody said that learning remotely was easy

➝ word count: 2,9k

➝ warnings: smut, d/s dynamics, masturbation, use of toys

➝ author’s note: i know it wasn't what you expected, but i hope it's what you wanted.

The sun was shining brightly over Melbourne that morning. The movement in the paddock was intense, an indication that this would be a day of intense activities on the track. However, Toto's good mood was not due to the conversations with George and Lewis or the positive prognosis for the sessions that would take place later. It was because he received, early in the morning, a good morning message from Ava.

Contrary to what he would have liked, she had stayed working in London. He even tried to convince her to go with him, but Ava refused, stating that the distance would serve Toto's learning process and she hoped he would take it seriously. And by taking it seriously, she meant that he should completely control his sexual desires and impulses.

It was simple in theory.

But, in practice, it was the biggest challenge of his life.

It started during the flight to Australia, when Ava sent a photo of a drawer full of lingerie and babydolls, stating that she was undecided which one to wear for their next meeting. With his lower lip between his teeth, he typed that he didn't mind that, since he knew she would look wonderful in all of them.

“Wrong answer”, Toto thought, as he stared at the photo Ava had sent.

In front of a mirror, her face was hidden by her cell phone, giving all the attention to the babydoll made entirely of lace that showed off all her curves, leaving practically nothing to his imagination. Letting out a heavy sigh, he typed out the first compliment he could think of before looking back at the image, practically mesmerized.

— Buying new pajamas? — someone asked next to him. When Toto looked up, he found the mischievous smile of Frédéric, who had the newspaper he was reading on his lap.

— Huh?

— Is that babydoll for you? — the team principal rephrased his question, pointing his head at the cell phone screen, where Ava's photo was still in display. Staring at the image again, Toto felt his face heat up.

— No, no, I'm not buying anything — he replied quickly.

— So you're just watching porn, got it — Fred said, before letting out a laugh, making Toto flinch, feeling his cheeks even hotter than before.

— It's not porn, it's just a photo.

— Very sexy by the way…

Noticing that the Frenchman was still staring at the image of the woman on the screen, he tried to hide it, preventing him from seeing more. It sounded counterproductive, but Toto couldn't help but feel a certain anger when he thought about Ava getting the attention of other men. It was a selfish feeling, not to say naive, since he knew the possibility of a dominant having several submissives, but Toto wanted him to be the only one in her life.

— Who is she?

— Who are you talking about? — he returned the question.

— The woman, who is she? — Fred insisted.

— Nobody.

— Your new girlfriend?

— What if she is?

The Ferrari boss smiled.

— Consider me surprised since no one has entered that ice heart of yours in years — Fred said — I think the last woman you introduced me to was your sister and that was almost ten years ago.

Toto rolled his eyes.

— You really are an idiot.

— That means you have a girlfriend, then — the man murmured, before looking to the side — Christian, did you know that Toto is dating?

Turning his face, he noticed that Christian Horner was heading back to his seat on the plane. He was returning from another trip to the bathroom, courtesy of the food poisoning he had arranged to disturb him during the flight. However, his indisposition did not prevent a sparkle from appearing in his eyes, as well as a malicious smile.

— Does he? What's her name?

— It doesn't matter to you — Toto murmured, while a new notification from Ava flashed on the phone’s screen. That made him quickly take the device in his hands, expectation growing in his chest — Actually, it doesn't matter to both of you, I shouldn't have said anything.

As if realizing he was anxious, the two team principals laughed.

— Apparently she's a good catch — Christian murmured, as he sat in his seat — Is she younger than you? Be careful not to bore her with your old man things, women don't like that.

— Old man things?

— Yeah, things old people do…

— Like shooting at plates in the English countryside? — Toto questioned, a certain irritation crackling in his voice. Christian narrowed his eyes, his lips pressed together for a few seconds.

— Like being an asshole on a plane — he said, before muttering a curse under his breath and turning around, walking quickly towards the bathroom. Toto's eyes met Frédéric's, who was shaking his head.

— You two are completely insufferable — he muttered.

Rolling his eyes, Toto simply closed the partition between his cabin and the plane's aisle. After taking a deep breath, he turned his attention to his phone, which still had Ava's notification shining on the screen. Unlocking the device, he came across a new photo of her, this time, with an even more daring piece. With gold details that resembled the reflections of the sun on sea water, the fabric did little to cover her nipples and pussy. “Do you think this one is better?”, the caption of the image asked him.

Before he could type the answer, a video appeared on the screen, his eyes widening at the sight of the thumbnail, his cheeks unbearably hot. Running a hand through his hair, Toto shifted uncomfortably in the armchair, without taking his eyes off Ava's tour of the piece, revealing the completely open back with a giggle.

— Maybe I'll use it while I suck you, so you can have a privileged view — she asked in the video, with a suggestive tone — Can you imagine seeing my pussy dripping with lust in front of you, begging for your cock inside it? Tell me what you think, little boy.

“This woman is going to kill me”, he thought to himself, putting down his cell phone and finding a not-so-subtle bulge in his pants. As he covered himself with the blanket he had been given by a flight attendant hours before, Toto couldn't help but be impressed by the power Ava had over him, even though she was hundreds of miles away.

And it had only been the beginning.

There hadn't been a day that she hadn't sent him a provocative or suggestive message. The photos of Ava's lingerie collection were already accumulating in his private folder, as were the videos and audios, all with a domineering tone that made him think about taking off his own pants and taking the matter into his own hands once and for all.

— You can't, Toto, you can't — he repeated to himself one night after dropping the phone on the bed, the image of Ava's new skirt, the back of which was made of buckles on a transparent tulle, shining on the screen. He had given his own pleasure into her hands, and that meant it was no longer up to him to decide about it.

The worst thing about it wasn't the distance or the maddening lust, but rather that all it took was one stern look from Ava for him to confess every time he had touched himself without her permission. And the consequences would be brutal, he was sure.

It was that context that made the arrival of Friday and the free practice sessions a real relief for Toto. In that situation, all he needed was something to occupy his mind, other than the impressive amount of lace and satin pieces that Ava had in her closet.

After waving to a circuit employee and taking a selfie with a boy waiting near the structure set up for the Mercedes, he entered the space with a smile. Saying a cheerful good morning to the catering team and making a joke with one of the engineers who was having coffee there, Toto headed to the small office set up for him.

Dropping his carry-on bag onto the table, he had just sat down when his cell phone began to vibrate in front of him. When he picked up the device, Toto felt a shiver run through his body when he read Ava's name on the caller ID, along with the word FaceTime. “What does she want now?”, he asked himself, before touching the green circle.

— Good morning, little boy — Ava's teasing voice sounded through the cubicle. Taking up practically the entire screen, her face had a sweet, almost innocent smile.

— Good morning, ma'am — he replied, pausing for a few seconds as he remembered the time zone — Good evening, I mean.

— How are you? Excited for today's sessions?

— I'm fine, ma'am. Excited may be too much, but yes I am looking for it.

— That's good — Ava murmured.

— What about you?

— I'm fine too — she replied — Just a little bored.

— Bored? — Toto said, giggling nervously. Ava nodded, the shadow of a smile on her lips, neatly painted a shade of pink.

— Yeah. So I decided to do something.

— To call me?

— No — she laughed — I called you to show you what I'm going to do.

Toto didn't have time to ask before Ava walked away from the camera, revealing that she was wearing only black satin lingerie, with no lace or any transparency. Running a hand over his forehead, he couldn't help but feel a familiar shiver run through her body as she climbed into bed, neatly dressed in black sheets. Above her fabric, the silver glow of something slightly curved caused the air to catch in his lungs.

— Ma’am…

— I know you've spent the last few days thinking about what it would be like to be inside me for the first time. I know you thought if it wouldn't be better to just ignore everything and fuck your hand while imagining you're here — she said, opening her legs dramatically. If the panties didn't allow Toto to have any glimpse of Ava, the opening in the middle of it allowed him to see her pussy — Isn't that right, little boy?

— Yes, ma'am — he murmured, mesmerized by the arousal that oozed from her folds and shone in the soft light of the room.

— I thought you might have an aperitif, you know? Since you're so far away from me but you want to touch me so much — Ava said, with a devilish smile on her face as she picked up the silver object next to her. The constant buzzing made Toto conclude that it was a vibrator.

— Ma’am…

— Have you ever thought about what it would be like to have my body to yourself for one night? — the words dripped like honey from her lips as Ava slid the flat tip of the toy down her inner thighs — Being able to touch me without any restrictions or rules? Feel my heat completely surrounding your cock? Hear my moans in your ear, begging you to go faster, harder, to fill my pussy with your cum?

Ava's narration drew those scenes almost automatically in Toto's mind. Her eyes full of desire and her lips parted, as if in a silent request for him to speed up, for him to give her what she wanted. And Toto was willing to give whatever his mistress wanted, even if it cost him his own sanity.

Bringing the vibrator close to her pubis  itself, Ava's eyes closed momentarily, a heavy sigh escaping her lungs, as if the promise of something good was on the horizon. And Toto never wanted so much to be the person who made her feel good.

— Yes, I did — he replied, as the silver tip of the toy drew slow circles on the upper portion of her pussy — I always think about how to please you, ma'am.

— If I told you to satisfy me now, what would you do, little boy? — Ava asked, her eyes squinting at her cell phone as she slid the toy through her own folds.

Toto shifted in his seat, feeling his cheeks getting even hotter. At that point, he didn't need to look down to know that he was hard from that completely explicit image of Ava, coupled with her words and teasing.

— I would start with your breasts, ma'am.

— Do you like my breasts? — she asked, with the shadow of a smile on her face.

— Yes, ma'am. I love them.

— And what would you do with them?

— I would kiss, lick and suck your nipples until they were hard — he replied, as he saw her hand move up her torso towards her bra, squeezing the soft skin. The air was trapped in Toto's lungs, his eyes analyzing that scene that seemed to have come from one of his most erotic dreams.

— And then? — she grumbled softly, moving the toy up and down against her labia minora, as if teasing herself.

— I would slide my mouth along your skin until I reached your pussy. And I would take my time to discover everything you like. I would discover the ideal rhythm, the position of the tongue, whether you like me to use my fingers or not…

— Yes — Ava sighed, her tone almost revealing vulnerability.

Faced with that scene, Toto had the impression that pleasure was the place where she stripped herself of titles and rituals. And seeing her like that, so absorbed in the sensation she was causing in herself with the vibrator, made him place one of his hands over the bulge in his pants, as if that could help alleviate the unbearable lust he was feeling.

That was Ava's effect on him.

— Would you make me come with your tongue, little boy? — she murmured, her eyes meeting his through the screen.

— No, ma'am. You deserve more, much more.

Ava smiled.

— What do I deserve, then? — she asked defiantly, the tip of the vibrator resting firmly against her clit, her eyelids fluttering with the pleasure coursing through her body.

— My cock, ma'am. You deserve to feel him inside you, filling you and making you moan with pleasure. You deserve to enjoy the best I can give you.

A whimper escaped Ava's lips as she slid the vibrator into her own opening, rubbing the chrome tip against herself.

— Would you be gentle, little boy?

— Would you like me to be gentle?

She smiled, inserting the toy inside herself with a moan.

— Fuck — Toto murmured, his hand squeezing his own member under the fabric of his pants, as she arched her back, her eyes closed tightly.

— This… Yes, fuck, yes — Ava whimpered, her legs shaking as she sped up the toy's thrusts. Forcing herself to open her eyes, she found Toto's image on her cell phone, witnessing that scene practically frozen, as if any word or movement could ruin what was happening.

And in that split second, she shattered.

He was sure he could have accompanied Ava and cum in his own pants like a teenager from what he had just witnessed. Seeing her writhing with pleasure was something sublime, perhaps more pleasurable than anything she had ever given him behind closed doors.

It was the effect Ava had on him.

She was still catching her breath when Toto finally broke the silence.

— Ma’am?

— Hm?

— Would it be my turn now? — he asked, his voice sounding a little too naive.

Suddenly, Ava sat up in bed, one eyebrow raised.

— What made you think you would have your turn?

Toto blinked.

— Ah, well, I just made you cum…

Ava let out a giggle.

— Little boy, you're so innocent — she said, in a condescending tone — First of all, you saw me cum, you didn't make me cum. They are two different things.

— But I guided — Toto tried to argue.

— You watched, little boy — Ava interrupted him abruptly — And that's different from guiding, something you wouldn't do since I'm the dominant one here. Secondly, I think your insolence is reason enough for me to deny your request.

— Ma’am, I just…

— You questioned my intentions and wanted to take a place that doesn't belong to you.

— Please, ma'am...

— Have a good day, Toto — she said, before ending the call.

Staring at the screen in shock, he couldn't believe what had just happened. The best minutes of his life had turned into the worst in a matter of seconds, and the blame was solely on his anxiety to please Ava.

— Holy shit, Torger — he muttered to himself, running a hand over his face.

Suddenly, a knock on the door made Toto adjust himself in his chair, inviting whoever was outside to enter. A few seconds later, Bradley's face appeared through the crack.

— Ah, you're there, Toto — he said — I thought you hadn't arrived.

— I just got here, Brad — he answered, still feeling his cock painfully hard inside his trousers — Any problem?

— No, no, I was just in a room next door and I heard a strange noise.

Toto felt his hands get cold.

— Strange noise?

— Yeah, like a whining or something. I thought it might be someone with a problem, but I didn't find anyone...

— There must be a television on in one of the briefing rooms, no?

— I think it's difficult — Bradley replied with a small smile.

— Why?

— I don't know if any of the televisions here have access to porn.

Toto blinked, his stomach dropping.

— Well, check it anyway. We never know if we are going to be victims of a virtual attack or something like that — he managed to say, trying to hide his own discomfort.

With a nod, Bradley closed the door.

And Toto was sure that he had barely escaped.

[incorrectmhatweets]

More MHA plot bunnies:

Merfolk edition.

Aizawa works at a security company that sends out different people for different contracts and jobs. He gets sent to an aquatic testing facility for a three month stint. Everything seems above board, but one day he stumbles upon a lower floor that is full of captured/raised in captivity young merfolk. Sure, his job can be kind of shady sometimes, his boss leaving out details, but he prefers that so he can take a paycheck and not feel too much guilt.

After some snooping he finds out that the entire group of young adolescent mer, both an endangered species and also a very dangerous species, is set to be sent to another facility where they will be euthanized, as they are getting to the age where they are too old to be manageable for testing, though their bodies will continue to be used for science both before and during and after their deaths.

When people are chosen to take the armored truck that he knows will be loaded with mer, Aizawa offers to go, giving the other person he was meant to take them with food poisoning so he and he alone will be in charge of the truck. He takes it, knowing this will more than likely be the last thing he does but tired of his same old routine. At least his death will mean something, even if he is throwing it away for a species of creatures who would probably kill him if they met in the wild.

The company realize what he is doing when he deviates off course.

Soon enough he is heading for the nearest pier with his huge bullet proof truck, gunning for the edge, police and private military and helicopters on his heals.

He is injured in the crash, but doesn’t let that stop him from unlocking the back of the sinking truck, and breaking open a few to give them the best chance at escaping before causing a distraction and fighting the trained humans while the mer help eachother break free and escape.

He is dying and bleeding heavily while the last of the mer escape with minimal injuries, several attacking and shredding the humans that are trying to kill him and stop them. He feels webbed hands wrap around his ankles and pull him under and he knows he is going to die. Suspects that they don’t care to tell the difference between a human that is helping vs a human that is hurting after all they have been through in the labs. He understands as he is dragged deeper and deeper, his head splitting and air being forced from his lungs from the pressure.

Before lips press to his and more water is forced into his burning lungs and he just knows this is it. He can’t see which of the mer it is, it’s so dark his deep. He is still bleeding from a bullet he took for a mer he rescued. He feels lips over the entry wound and feels sharp teeth digging in and he would scream if he could. Why is he still alive?

Just as he believes he is about to pass out again he feels more pressure against his lips and more water is forced into his burning lungs. Sharp claws scratch along his neck and his ribs as he kicks and for some reason he isn’t dying but he wishes he was. He is thrashing, hands coming to his neck and mouth, feet kicking, eyes rolling back as a mouth presses against his again and more water is forced into his mouth, almost like it’s trying to give him CPR instead of forcefully drowning him.

And that’s when it clicks. And he thrashed harder because yes, he did save these adolescent mers, but he never planned to become one of them! He didn’t know that was possible! And if he becomes one of them, does that mean he has to continue caring for them, regardless of how little he actually knows about their kind and the ocean?

What about other, older Mer that reside in the deep? How will they take his presence? The mer may be able to force him into being able to breath under water by cutting gils into his neck and sides and forcing a biological change that makes no scientific sense, but he definitely doesn’t develop protective scales or a fin instead of legs, though he does start to form a telepathic mind link to his small school of mer. His class, he affectionately starts referring to them as in his mind. And while he will fight like hell to protect them, he is still a very squishy human compared to their still growing and still very powerful predator mer bodies.

And he is very much seen as nothing more than an intruder and a nuisance to the much larger, dangerous, downright terrifying adult Mer that find him and his class and want to take the adolescent Mer in and have them join their pod.