#this brought to you by me being back in the itchy stage again

[tobitenkit]

people will warn you about the pain of getting tattoos at any possible opportunity but nobody warns you about how having a healing tattoo is thee most itchy you will ever be in your entire life and you aren't allowed to scratch it

[penkura]

where you belong [1/10]

Summary: As Luffy's big sister, you've viewed it to be your job to see him become King of the Pirates in place of your absent parents, even as you try to find where it is you belong in the world. You never really expected to draw the attention of Trafalgar Law in the process.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!reader

Warnings: Discussion of feelings of abandonment, age gap relationship (four years), brief secret relationship, mentions and heavy refences to sex, mentions of alcohol, typical One Piece stuff. Other warnings to be added if needed.

Notes: Hi, it's me again! Another fanfic here for you all! When this goes up, I'll be on my last day of vacation before I fly home, so I hope that you'll enjoy this! I know Straw Hat Reader x Law is popular, and I wanted to write my own, but with the Reader being Luffy's biological older sister. So for this, Reader is three years older than Luffy, 20 at the start and 22 after the timeskip, making Law four years older. I personally like older men, and age gap fics are just delicious reading material for me (within reason, nothing illegal).

Note 2: This is NOT the Law with vitiligo series. That one is actively being planned but will be separate from this one.

“And I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!!”

Luffy standing your tiny dingy boat worries you a little, but you still grin at him and nod.

“Hell yeah you will be!”

“Your turn! What’re you gonna do while we sail??”

Rolling your eyes, you make Luffy sit down while you stand up.

“Easy. I’m gonna chronicle your journey and write the greatest story ever told!”

Your younger brother watches you, tilting his head when you don’t continue. He believes there has to be more you want out of life, and tries to make you say what else is in your plans, what you have on your mind.

“And?”

Taking a breath, you nod. Of course he knew you had more, it’s Luffy, he’s been by your since he was just a few weeks old. Things you’ve said over time, to him and Ace, they’d both known for a long time what you’ve always wanted to find once you went out to sea.

“And find where it is I belong.”

+!+

Your arrival in Sabaody was a trip, in more than one way. You'd been excited to explore the place, hoping you could pawn your younger brother off on Camie, Pappag, and the others so you could have some time on your own to shop the stalls, maybe with Nami and Robin, turn it into a girl’s day. Of course, though, nothing could be so easy when your brother is the captain of the Straw Hats. You all find yourselves at the human auction hall, Nami willing to spend all the money possible to save Camie, but it makes you itchy while being there. You cringe to think about the things that happened in this place, how many people had been sold to Celestial Dragons. Your and Luffy's loss of Sabo due to the actions of one had severely soured your opinions on them.

You scan the crowd in the auction house, scratching at your arms which never seem to calm down while the rest of your crew discusses their plan to save Camie, and you end up locking eyes with another pirate captain there, unknown to you at that moment but somehow familiar.

A furry white, spotted hat, dark hair you can barely see, oddly enough you think his facial hair is attractive, and those yellow eyes that you almost would believe see right through you.

Trafalgar Law simply stares at you, realizing you’re a Straw Hat when he recognizes the rest of your crewmates. After a moment of fidgeting slightly you give him a nervous smile and a wave, which he returns with a nod before turning back to the auction stage as they continue to call bids on people.

Weird girl.

Strange guy.

Although she’s busy watching for Camie to be brought out, Nami still leans into you when you pull on her sleeve and start to whisper. “You see that guy in the white spotted hat?”

“What about him?”

“I think he’s Trafalgar Law, captain of the Heart Pirates. He’s more attractive than his poster makes him.”

Rolling her eyes, Nami pulls her arm away from you. “I don’t have time for you to be horny about some guy.”

“Wha—Nami!! I’m not! I’m just saying.”

She doesn’t listen to you anymore, focusing back on waiting for Camie and sending you to watch for Luffy, just so you don’t get distracted by the attractive enemy captain and defect to another crew.

You swear you never will, but do as you’re told to watch for your brother. Maybe one day you’ll get to properly meet Law, you’re quite curious about the young man.

+!+

“Another one?! Are you kidding me, Dragon?!”

You’re three years old when you wake up to your grandfather yelling at someone in the middle of the night. Normally Garp is sure to keep things quiet so you, his sweet little princess angel granddaughter, can sleep peacefully. He’d leave early in the morning once your nanny showed up for the day, returning before dinner so he had the evenings with you before you had to be off to bed, to do the day over again the next morning. It’s rare for you to stay up late or wake up early, but the few mornings you’ve woken up before he left were some of Garp’s favorites.

You quietly slip out of your bed, blanket in your hand as you rub your eyes and go to the door, opening it just enough to see what’s happening. Garp is there with someone in a green cloak, you can’t see the other person’s face, but listen anyway.

“He’s the last one, there won’t be anymore.”

“You said [Y/N] was going to be the only one!”

“Things happened.”

“Obviously something happened, babies don’t appear out of thin air!’

You tilt your head, the man in the cloak catching your eye, which makes you shy away behind your doorway, glancing away before back to him as he looks to Garp again.

“Take care of them.” He goes to leave and is gone before Garp can even stop him.

“Dragon, wait--! That…damn idiot.”

“Grandpa?”

Garp is surprised to hear your voice, turning around once he closes the door, giving you a smile while you start to focus on the bundle he's holding.

“Hey there, princess, what are you doing up?”

“I heard yelling…”

Nodding, Garp apologizes as he picks you up, letting you settle on his free arm. “Sorry about that, angel. Just… an unexpected visitor.”

“Oh…”

Garp sees you staring more at the bundle of blankets in his arm than at him, and he sighs a bit, taking you to the living room and setting you on the couch, before showing you how to position your arms as he sets the now squirming bundle in your arms.

“[Y/N], this is your baby brother. His name is Luffy.”

How unexpected! You’ve never thought about having a sibling, just enjoying your childhood and life with your grandpa, but seeing this tiny little boy in your just as small arms makes you grin while you look at him. Dark black hair and just as dark eyes, scrunched up little face and tiny hands in fists while he starts to fuss and whine.

“Luffy…”

+!+

Luffy…

You hope your prayers aren’t going unheard, that Luffy will return to you safely. Ace’s death has long passed, but you’re more worried about your little brother than anything else right now. You’d both been sent off to Amazon Lily by Kuma, but after they’d all agreed to let you both stay, and Boa Hancock seems to have fallen in love with him, Luffy left you there to go rescue Ace, that was nearly three weeks ago now, you think. You want him back, both of them, but want to see Luffy more than anyone else.

“Luffy’s returned, [Y/N]-san!”

“He has?!”

Marguerite nods and you quickly get up from your seat and run after her to wherever Luffy is. The newspapers kept implying he was dead, you were terrified you’d lost him and Ace that day, no updates from anyone apart from the papers cheering for the Navy’s alleged victory, for the deaths of Ace and Whitebeard. The Amazons, all so kind to let you stay while Luffy went to try and rescue Ace, were unsure of how to help you the last two weeks once Ace’s vivre card burned to nothing in your hands and made you nearly inconsolable.

Despite that, your prayers hadn’t gone unheard.

Once you’re at the beach that Luffy should be at, you notice immediately the big yellow submarine with the word DEATH on it and it freaks you out more than anything. You don’t know who owns it, but when you catch sight of someone you’ve only seen in person once, you worry that he’s done something to Luffy. You don’t say a word, but someone in a jumpsuit (boiler suit you think?) calls out “captain” just in time for him to turn towards you as you shove the older boy to the ground, placing yourself on top of him and your knife to his neck.

Part of you wishes it was poisoned right now, just in case this Trafalgar Law has done something to your brother.

“Where’s Luffy?!”

The knife you have at his neck doesn’t phase Law even a tiny bit, it’s the fact that someone so much shorter and smaller than him was able to catch him off guard and shove him to the ground the way you did. You’re angry for some reason, giving him a nasty glare but look like you’re about to cry on top of it, as he just stares at you, his crewmembers shouting for you to get off their captain before he raises a hand to stop them.

“Who—”

“Tell me, where is my brother?!”

Oh so that’s what’s wrong, that’s who you are. Whether you’re related to Luffy by blood or by ritual cup like Ace was, Law doesn’t know, but he’s sure you want reassurance you haven’t lost two brothers in one day.

“Are you [Y/N]?”

You turn your head to look over your shoulder at Jinbei, still glaring. “Who’s asking?!”

“I was friends with your brother Ace, he told me about you and Luffy while we were in Impel Down.”

“He…did?”

You’ve calmed down so quickly hearing Ace’s name, retracting your knife just slightly, while Jinbei explains things to you. You don’t move off of Law though, listening quietly, fighting the desire to cry more. You’ve done enough of that, you don’t want to anymore today.

Law doesn’t even try to move you off, knowing, like Luffy, you’re emotionally hurting right now. He doesn’t want to risk you slicing his neck either, even as Jinbei finishes telling you everything Ace did, and you still don’t move or look at Law.

“Ace hopes you find what you’re looking for.”

You clench your jaw a bit at first, before smiling sadly and nodding, thanking Jinbei for the information before Law speaks up.

“If you get off me, I can take you to Straw Hat-ya.” 

You blink, finally looking back to Law, and you feel your face burn with a blush when you realize your position and scramble to get off him, apologizing the whole way while he shakes his head. Once he’s on his feet, Law let’s you onto the Polar Tang and leads you down the hallway to the infirmary, updating you on Luffy’s condition the best he can with the knowledge he has.

“If he pulls through this, the most you’ll have to worry about is his mental health.”

“Mm.” You nod, grabbing Law’s arm as he stops to open a door, making him look back at you. “I apologize for shoving you down.”

“I’ve been through worse,” Law shrugs, you could tell just from looking at him, though he does smirk a bit at you, “Never had a girl push me down and hold a poisoned knife to my neck before though.”

“It wasn’t poisoned,” you almost shout, but keep your voice down to not wake Luffy, “…this time…”

He almost laughs, but when you see Luffy finally, you’re instantly but his side, taking his hand and trying to keep yourself from crying seeing him in such a state. He’d been injured badly before, but never like this, never this close to death.

“Luffy…oh Luffy, I’m here, Lu,” you brush his bangs away from his face before kissing his forehead, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, I should’ve come with you…”

Law doesn’t bother you for the next several minutes, stepping out so you have some privacy while you make sure Luffy is all right, your quiet prayers that he wakes soon and heals quickly don’t go unheard by the surgeon of death, who thinks back to his own sister and the prayers he’d once prayed for her health as a child.

As an older sibling, he gets it. While he still doesn’t know yet if you’re related by blood or sworn siblings, he does see how much you care for Luffy, and for your sake he hopes your captain wakes sooner rather than later.

+!+

You spend the next two weeks in and out of the Polar Tang, checking on Luffy and praying over him to wake soon, Law being the one to take you in and lead you back out most of the time, even though you’ve memorized the path already. The next time you leave Luffy to continue recovering, the friends you and Luffy have made from Amazon Lily have shown up in the time you’ve been with him, bringing food and drinks for you all. As you walk over to where he’s seated, Law offers you a drink that you reject with a shake of your head, sitting on the other side of the tree and bringing your knees up to your chest, hiding your face in them.

“Any signs he’s waking up?”

Shaking your head, you sigh and lean back, looking at the people around to distract yourself from worrying over Luffy.

“That your crew?”

“Yep. All twenty of them.”

You smile a bit, watching the Heart Pirates goof off while some have their meal and share drinks. It almost reminds you of the Straw Hats and makes your heart ache from missing them deeply.

“You have a nice group there.”

“They can be a handful.”

It makes you laugh a bit, nodding before you decide to stop wallowing and get back up, standing beside Law where he stays seated.

“Think you should hold this for now.”

Law tosses Luffy’s straw hat to you, and you grit your teeth a bit while you stare at it. You had wondered where it was, seeing it wasn’t around when you were with Luffy. You hold nothing but the highest regards for Shanks, he'd been an inspiration for you and Luffy when you were children, he helped end the war and helped Law save Luffy, but how you wish he’d shown up sooner. Maybe he could’ve helped Ace too.

“Thank you, for holding this.”

“Seems important to him, he’s not Straw Hat-ya without it.”

Smiling a bit, you nod. “He’s certainly not.”

“How do you—”

“I’m his big sister. I was three when our dad dropped him off with me and grandpa. We’ve been together almost every day since.”

“I see.”

You’re not entirely sure you trust Law, despite his saving Luffy, but you’re willing to give him a shot. At least let him know a bit about your history with Ace too, since he'd been there when you hadn’t been. Where Luffy asked you not to go.

“We met Ace and another boy when I was ten, and become sworn siblings with them soon after. The other boy died a few months later,” you grip the straw hat a bit tighter, but loosen your hold after being stabbed in the hand by sharp bits of straw, “a Celestial Dragon did it, we’ve not been fans of them since, so Luffy punching that one in Sabaody felt like some payback.”

“That makes sense.”

After a few minutes of silence, you finally realize something and turn to Law, sticking your hand out for him.

“Never introduced myself. Monkey D. [Y/N]. I don’t really use my last name though.”

Law takes your hand after a moment, nodding. “Trafalgar Law.”

“Thank you for saving my baby brother.”

“Don’t thank me until he wakes up.”

As if almost on cue, the door comes flying off the Polar Tang and you both whip your heads over, Law running ahead of you as you follow, and Luffy’s the next thing to almost fly out of the ship.

“Luffy!!”

You’re about to run to him before Law grabs hold of your arm, pulling you to himself and holding you still, even while you thrash around and listen to Luffy call for Ace. It breaks your heart to see him so upset, and you just want to console him, have him do the same for you, while you both continue to grieve for Ace. But Law won’t let you go to him, fear or concern your brother might hurt you while he fights through pain and raging emotions, before he disappears into the forest.

“Luffy, come back!!”

You barely register Jinbei asking what’ll happen if Luffy continues to flail and run off like that, before Law speaks and your heart almost drops to your stomach at the thought.

“If he continues to move around like that he could reopen his wound and bleed out. He’ll die.”

Quickly you turn around and Law isn’t at all shocked to see the tears welling up in your eyes as you grip his shirt, still holding Luffy’s straw hat.

“Don’t let that happen!! Please!! He’s all I have! Luffy is my whole world, I can’t lose him!!”

Unsure of what to do, especially once you lay your head on his chest while you cry, Law hesitantly wraps his arms around you and watches Jinbei go off to Luffy. Maybe he’ll be able to calm your brother down before he really hurts or kills himself.

You’ve both been through a lot the last few weeks, losing Luffy would break you more than losing Ace did to him.

+!+

“I’m sorry I got snot on your shirt.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll wash.”

You glance away and keep your eyes averted while Law changes shirts, having taken you onto the Polar Tang while Jinbei attempts to calm Luffy down. He didn’t fully mean to bring you into his room, but he never let go of your wrist while he led through the ship, making you sit down to hopefully calm you down. You do catch sight of his tattoos, wanting to say something but you don’t want to sound like a creep or a pervert at the same time.

“Why don’t you use your last name?”

Law surprises you once he’s changed shirts, this one almost the same as the yellow one he’d been wearing, but now a dark blue with a furry, feathery collar that you really want to pet, it looks soft. But again, you don’t want to seem like a creep.

For a moment you’re quiet, before you cross your arms and lean against the wall, shrugging.

“Why should I use the name of someone who abandoned me? I only have one memory of my father, and it was when he dropped off Luffy.”

“Your grandfather is Garp, isn’t he?”

“I love my grandpa like he’s my dad…but I don’t want to use my last name.”

Law nods a bit, seeming to understand. You felt abandoned, and wanted nothing to do with your biological father, instead viewing Garp in that light, which makes sense.

He'd viewed Corazon in the same light at one point.

“Your mother?”

“I know nothing about her. It’s like…” You start to bury your head in your knees again, almost digging your nails into your arms, “Like I don’t know who I am half the time…”

He gets that too, the same feelings after Flevance, after losing Corazon and leaving the Don Quixote family, leaving Doflamingo behind. Many times of looking in the mirror and asking “who the hell am I”.

Law is about to respond, before one of his crewmembers yells for you both that Luffy and Jinbei have returned to the beach, and you’re out the door so fast he isn’t able to believe it. He follows you out, not all surprised to see you and Luffy hugging each other tightly once he exits his ship.

Your bond with Luffy would be on full display the next few days, Law truthfully does wonder if he and Lammy would’ve been the same.

+!+

“I met some people who are friends with our dad.”

“You what?”

Luffy nods, giving you this information during dinner one evening, while you stare at him with such a blank look that Law thinks you’ve completely shut down. You didn’t say too much about your dad while you relayed some of your childhood to him earlier that day, apart from your perceived abandonment, but the look you have isn’t a very happy one.

“They’re were some cool people! They helped me escape that prison and…tried to help me save Ace.”

“So they were revolutionaries.”

“Yeah, they…they said they didn’t even know we existed.” Luffy scrunches up his face a bit while you frown, then pat his head.

“I’m not surprised, Lu.”

Luffy makes a face now, one that’s almost disgusted but annoyed but upset maybe. Law swears he isn’t trying to eavesdrop, you two are sitting too close to him anyway, you’re practically pressed up against his side. You both appear to have problems with your father, after the little bit you’ve told him and how you confessed to feeling abandoned by your parents. He wonders briefly is Luffy feels the same, even as your younger brother leans against you, pushing you fully into Law’s arm and making you glance up at him apologetically. He doesn’t move, once again doesn’t push you off, instead shifting his arm enough for you to be comfortable.

When Luffy falls asleep, you finally speak again.

“Luffy met our dad once, in Loguetown”

“Oh yeah?”

“Neither of us knew until grandpa told us…he didn’t even stop to say anything to me…”

“…I’m sorry.”

You shrug, watching Luffy. It still stung to know that, to know that Dragon didn’t even seek you out when he must’ve known you were on Luffy’s crew, that you’d never leave him to do this alone. When Garp told you he’d been in Loguetown that day, it felt like a knife in your heart that you didn’t even get to see or speak to your father.

Law, while he watches you start to drift off to sleep yourself, thinks about his own dad and Corazon at the same time. He had two fathers in the end, who both cared about and loved him deeply, both wanting to protect him as long as they could. He had his mother and Lammy too, you had Luffy and Garp, but it wasn’t enough for you, and it makes sense. To not have that connection with the people who gave you life, Law can’t even imagine how difficult that must be.

He ignores the slight snickers and comments from his crew when they see you leaned against him, even has he slightly tilts his head towards yours, not going all the way to lay his against your own. Even when Shachi makes a small comment about ‘love’ being in the air at Amazon Lily, Law doesn’t open his eyes to respond or even Shambles his friend away.

You won’t see each other again for a long time after this, most likely, so he’s willing to give you some comfort and allow his crew to see him a little softer than normal.

+!+

“Bye, thanks for your help, Traffy!”

Law tries not to grimace at the nickname Luffy’s given him over the last few days, nodding to you both as his crew also shouts goodbyes and wave to you both, you personally sad to see them leave. You’d spent so much time getting to know them while taking care of Luffy, that it felt like you were losing friends again. You’d probably see them one day, maybe as friends but maybe as foes, yet, you’d like to see more of Law and learn about him like he had you.

Luffy notices your face, the sad look it has, then looks back to the Heart Pirates as they start to disappear below deck. You’ve already chosen to stay on Amazon Lily the next two years and learn from the women there how to fight, but even watching you the last couple days, he could see your heart wasn’t in it. You more so loved using your knives and making poisons, he remembers the one he and Ace mistakenly drank thinking it was lavender tea from Makino. You weren’t an archer or a swordswoman, you much prefer close combat and paralyzing your enemies. Your work during Enies Lobby earned you your $25 million berri bounty, the Navy having trouble recreating antidotes from the one you’d left with a knocked out marine, they knew you’d be trouble one day.

With all that in mind, Luffy sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around you in what you first believe to be a hug, before he lifts you up and you look at him. He’s got a grin that concerns you greatly as the color drains from your face.

“Luffy.”

He giggles a bit, nodding at you to brace yourself.

“Luffy, don’t you dare.”

“Have fun with Traffy for two years!!!”

He doesn’t give you anymore room to argue, flinging you towards the Polar Tang, making you yell for Law to pay attention, and he barely does in time to catch you, knocking both of you to the ground, several Heart Pirates making sure both of you are all right and that Law didn’t hit his head on anything.

You’re up and holding onto the railing, yelling at Luffy, “You’re an idiot!!!”

He pretends he can’t hear you, waving widely and shouting another goodbye, but to you this time.

Once Law is sitting up, realizing what the hell has happened, he sighs a bit while you look back to him.

“I’m sorry, Trafalgar. You can turn back and I’ll beat some sense into him!”

One of his crewmembers, you’re pretty sure it’s Shachi, leans down to ask him, “Should we? Kinda seems like Straw Hat wants us to take her along.”

He sighs, taking his hat off and running his hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“You can stay.”

“…huh?”

You tilt your head in confusion, Law doesn’t think it’s cute at all no matter what that weird feeling in his chest is, while he stands up and nods at you.

“The Amazons might get angry if we return without permission, so we’ll just…take you along…and then bring you to Sabaody.”

Blinking several times, you’re still confused while some of his crew laugh, Penguin coming up to pat you on the back.

“You’re a temporary Heart Pirate! We’ll take care of you!”

Nodding, Law turns to go below deck.

“Say your goodbye, we’ll be going under shortly.”

While the rest of them follow after their captain, you turn back and see Luffy still waving at you, which makes you sigh and shake your head. You do smile though, you had wanted to continue getting to know Law and his crew, this was a perfect opportunity, and maybe he could help you with creating effective antidotes for your poisons.

“Luffy! Love you, see you in two years!”

“Okay!!!!”

Once you go below deck, Penguin being the one to wait for you in order to close the door properly, he starts to show you around a bit, the rest of the crew happy to see you’re staying with them for now, while Law keeps a slight distance unless he’s asked about something. You looking around and being so impressed by the submarine caused another weird feeling in his chest, and he fights to ignore it, especially when you thank him for letting you stay with a smile, which he waves off with an “It’s nothing”.

It's going to be an interesting two years.

[ghostkingart]

OC tober - day 24 - prompt "reflecting on their past"

word count: ~250 each

fandom: Baldur's Gate 3, original

author's note: full post and prompt list under the cut

Veles

Living as long as drow did, there was much Veles could reflect upon. The main thing, tough, had to be the fact that he had lived as long as he had at all.

This thought came to him often.

Why me? Why was I the one allowed another chance?

He didn’t dare give himself any credit for his lonesome trek through the Underdark. He had attributed it all to chance, luck, divine intervention, call it what you will. But was he worthy? Did he achieve some sort of a great feat? He would never admit it to himself.

No, he was on the surface simply by chance. A chance he did not deserve. All the people he’d betrayed, the people he’d had to leave behind, just for a chance at freedom.

He often thought about Nyloth. Looking at the starry sky, Veles couldn’t help but wonder if he ever got to experience that view. Most likely not. Most likely Nyloth was still getting tormented at the Temple of Lolth. Even more likely than that… he was dead.

These thoughts brought tears to Veles’s eyes. He was slowly learning not to hold them back, but he still preferred to be alone when he cried…

Tye

Tye catches a glimpse of a white paper poking out from behind the bed. Curious, he reaches for it and pulls it out from between the bed and the wall.

The image that Tye sees fills him with uneasiness. It makes his skin grow cold and his arms shake. Tye holds the poster firmly, fingers gripping at the edge, making it bend and fold. He feels brief tension, a wrench in the inside of his elbow, a hint of a movement: an urge to rip up the paper then and there.

But he doesn’t. He only stares.

The light reflects off the shiny surface. For something that was behind the bed, the poster isn’t dusty at all. It’s been put there recently.

It’s a poster of him, on the stage, smiling the most dazzling smile one has ever seen. It is Tye in all his glory, in the spotlight, where he belongs.

Or so it looks at first glance.

Faced with this image of himself from just two years ago, Tye starts to remember all the most unpleasant details of his last tour. How he had been exhausted all the time, how his sleep had been restless and weak. How, despite the amount of rest he got, he often felt completely paralyzed. How, most of the time, he didn’t have the energy to go onstage unless he was on drugs. How he couldn’t eat for days, and whenever he tried to eat he got nauseous and couldn’t keep it down.

Unfortunately it is exactly those gruesome details that will always remain dominant in Tye’s memory. How hopeless everything was.

Getting lost in memories like this, it’s almost impossible to remember that all of that is behind him. And suddenly he’s itchy and he feels the need to check, just in case, that he isn’t the person from the poster: lost, exhausted and ruined, putting on a fake smile for a crowd.

Leon

He slammed the door to his room, sat at his desk and put his headphones on. Leon tried to work on his song, but the thoughts kept flooding his mind. It was just one thing that Jackson had said, Leon wasn’t the kind to give into the stigma that surrounded therapy. He had more of an issue with the costs, and quite frankly, the whole confronting oneself ordeal didn’t sound all that great to him.

For years he’d been trying to suppress those memories. He didn’t like to think about anything that had happened to him before he got adopted. He didn’t want to think about the years of torment he’d suffered. He didn’t want to think about the beatings, the running away from his foster homes, getting brought back by the police only to be beaten again. He had the scars to remind him of those times, the reason he despised looking at his own body. And being confronted with all that? It seemed counterproductive. Leon was just fine, never thinking about it again. Turning a new leaf, a clean slate, something he had already done and was perfectly content with.

And yes, there were the nightmares. The insomnia. The attachment issues. But he could handle it all on his own,

Leon tossed his headphones onto his desk, saved his progress and shut his computer off. He tossed himself onto his bed and hugged his pillow.

He didn’t need any help.

He was just fine on his own.

Caleb

He hadn’t been in the neighborhood for a very long time. There, in that dead end street, behind those dumpsters. That’s where Caleb used to sleep the nights that the club he used to work at didn’t let him spend the night under the bar. It was a rough few months, up until he got that job that would change his life forever. The shitty, bottom of the barrel job, where he sold his body in exchange for a meal and a place to stay. He wasn’t half bad of a dancer either, but most of his clients hardly gave a shit about that.

And then… The place was still open. After Ryland’s… untimely demise, Dominick’s team took over management. Dominick didn’t know this just yet, but that place was where Caleb had met Ryland, back when he was too young to understand what the man was doing. Too young to realize that a relationship with a significantly older man who promised to cover all his expenses could only lead to a relationship that was more akin to ownership.

Passing through here, Caleb couldn’t help but get nauseous. He picked up the pace, put his hood up and tried to remind himself that those days were behind him. Far behind him.

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Jesse’s Melody of Return Translation

*Light and Night Masterlist | Jesse’s Personal Masterlist *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Jesse’s tag will be #For Night, For Belief *T/N: If you want me to translate something feel free to send in Recordings/Screenshots!

"The bright sunlight shines through the wide glass windows, shimmering down upon the familiar area of the airport. The anticipation and joy of being reunited with him added a spring to my step as my spirits began to soar..

I’d taken such a long trip that I couldn’t help picking up the pace as I headed towards the exit.

The long-awaited Guangqi City awaited behind the exit alongside the person I love.

The hustle and bustle of the airport grew clearer in my ears as I looked around, searching for his familiar silhouette within the airport crowd.

Who is he?"

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Belief⊹ —————★❖

MC: Tangyuan!?

The familiar figure holding the big sign with my name on it froze. After a few seconds, a pale and dispirited face slowly appeared.

Jesse had slimmed down a lot. His body was so thin that it seemed too frail to even withstand the weight of the clothes on his back.

Jesse: Milady… why are you only back now…?

Once his eyes met mine, I couldn't withstand the urge to run straight for him. Jesse came up to welcome me back, wrapping both arms around my waist in a tight hug. It almost felt as if he wanted to envelop me whole.

I found it amusing, but I also felt sorry for him as I reached out to gently stroke his soft hair.

MC: Did you not eat your meals properly? How did you get this thin while I was gone?

I pulled Jesse back up and held his cheek, turning it this way and that as I observed him carefully. His eyes were slightly red, and his wet eyelashes were trembling. Ripples formed in his emerald eyes, seemingly bearing unshed tears.

Jesse: It's okay… I… I just missed you so much that I was thinking of you day in and day out. It got so bad that I nearly got into a stage accident.

Jesse: Then I’d gotten so many distracting thoughts while I was practicing magic and ended up falling seriously ill, only to spend even more time thinking about you… but that’s okay, isn’t it?

Jesse said in a feeble voice and coughed twice to emphasize it. He slunk out from behind the signboard to peek at my reaction. I'd caught those little tells of his, of course, but I didn't mention it.

MC: Sorry… I really should have paid more attention to you while I was gone.

Jesse: It's okay. I'm alright. I know that your job is more important, so I can't be the one to make you worry.

He shook his head, bringing my hand to his chest as his lips gave an unnatural twitch.

Jesse: Milady's happiness is my happiness… and I will always wait here for you as the faithful guardian of your happiness…

I couldn't help but burst out laughing as I watched his performance grow more exaggerated by the minute.

MC: CUT! Enough acting! The three whole layers of your foundation are falling apart!

I pointed to the pale powder on my hands and clothes, which looked awfully similar to the paleness of his face. Unable to hold it in anymore, Jesse knelt over in laughter.

MC: That's some pretty good special effect makeup you have on. Who did it for you?

Jesse: Ow, ow, ow! Stop pinching my face! Spare me, milady!

Jesse: You know— you know the special effect makeup artist from my troupe? You've seen him before!

He quickly wiped the loose powder from his face, and relief swept through me upon seeing that his skin was still a normal healthy pallor underneath all that makeup.

He then paused, his eyebrow furrowing.

Jesse: Wait, why's my face itchy? Could it be an allergic reaction? Is it red here?

MC: Oh? Where? Let me see.

Worried, I quickly brought his face closer, only to feel him land a peck on my cheek. This was when I realized that I'd been fooled yet again.

MC: Xia Tangyuan! It has only been a while since we last saw each other, and there you are acting all sick and pitiful! Now you're even sneaking a kiss? Who taught you this stuff anyway!?

Jesse: C’mon, don't be mad! I won't do it again, promise!

MC: …Fine. I'm not mad.

He may have been pretending to be weak and feeble earlier, but upon closer look, it looked like he really did lose some weight. Feeling slightly bad for him, I ruffled his soft and short hair.

Jesse: So… you won't leave me all by my lonesome ever again?

How could I possibly say no to those puppy eyes brimming with hope?

MC: I won't leave you again, no matter what. I'll always be right by you.

He perks up at that, stretching out a hand. I took it without a second thought, and our fingers tightly intertwined with each other.

Jesse: Come on, let's go home.

Jesse: I have so many things to tell you! Including the fun stuff!

MC: Wouldn't that mean that you won't be done even after the sun comes up?

Jesse: What? Would that be… a problem?

The way his eyes dropped in sadness was so reminiscent of Eddie that I couldn't help but laugh, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek.

MC: Nope!

[deadvixengirl]

4th of July 2023

I got invited to this party and it was great a friend had just came back from tour and wanted to party out the independence I was all for it honestly!!! Im dealing thru hardships and settling myself down in my new apartment I feel independent… so fuck it lets party, I needed this after my friend telling me all the crazy stories on tour and laughing I just felt so easy so lax soooo smooth when I got there I didn’t hesitate to get drunk I felt it so soon it felt like I was falling in love all over again but I had an itch a big itch the itchiness of loosing friends and memories coming back of those times and well the room filled with instruments did me no better because I just wanted to play them but no idea of how to I felt lost confused and that’s when I went up to the chessboard I’ve always had this fantasy of each piece representing each person in my life as I’m drunkly speaking to this board (like I do sober) someone comes up to me wanting to play I laughed and said idk I’m kinda drunk and I won’t stay here for long fuck it we started a game I’d go out and chat with people at the party then when I felt the conversation die down I would go back to this game and move the piece eventually I got stuck talking to this girl for a while about idk the art of being a woman and just honestly my life I love women more then anything shit I’d fight for a woman… woman just remind me of my mom and at the time I just wasn’t in a good relationship with mines so I needed a hug of a woman. Eventually I went back to this game I was upset as one of the pieces was stolen I got really upset because although I was drunk I knew the game I was playing I toss the fucking board across the room and went outside and ask the girl to take me to the restroom… I got there started absolutely crying hating my life for what it was … but I started to feel weird absolutely sick sick to my stomach like something awful just happened as if someone died ! I passed out in the restroom.. next thing yk I hear a knock on the door I open and come out im like hey I need to go outside right now something doesn’t feel right a different girl takes me outside and we start to talk I felt as if someone else was here and I was telling the girl hey someone else is here and she thought I was crazy and yes no now even now I think I sound crazy but she tried to fight me eventually her boyfriend ended up taking her back home she left the party fireworks start going off I get a fire work and start aiming people because for some reason we were all throwing fireworks at each other I eventually end up ordering an uber to get back home and realizing my keys my wallet were not in my pocket anymore … I then am getting kicked out to the point in flipping out because my wallet is still missing I’m about to fight someone at this point that’s when I see a shadow behind everyone and I say I’m sorry for you guys lost … everyone is calling me crazy and every fucking word in the book I get in my uber crying confused as if I was someone’s puppet for the night the next morning I woke up to the one who brought me to the party gf dead … there’s more to this story and more to a conspiracy I’ve made but what makes it sad is that he knows why and I have/know the why … that when he crashed out on stage and they made a huge article of getting kicked off tour with a band it was like the world came back around I do feel that I was her puppet for the night (everything just felt off) I believe they had problems and him trying to come to me when he was playing in a upcoming band at the time it was her last reason I’m sorry it wasn’t my intention even if she watches over us she knows or seen that I’m just vibing but yes she’s dead and well I feel terrible every day about it ): because he didn’t even say nothing… he hasn’t said nothing I’m genuinely sorry for his lost I had none of this intentions I came here to party meet people to hopefully jammed with ),: but sadly it turned into a nightmare for me this was out of my character and more so cause I kept freaking out even I thought I was going crazy ….

[mulletcal]

be mine - a cake fluff fic

a/n: hello  welcome to this single dad!luke x cal fic, i blame @blackbutterfliescal​​ but also thank u brooke cause i never would have written it without the encouragement

words: 2.8k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, food, heartbreak, lots of fluff, dad!sos, uncle!sos

Luke had never been sure how he would make it the first few months without Sophie’s mom around, let alone the first few years.  Sophie’s mom had decided 6 months into her pregnancy that she didn’t want to raise the child - she felt no connection to her, nor did she believe she was going to.  The idea hurt Luke, but he remained convinced that if she could just look into their baby girl’s eyes for the first time, she would realize; she would feel all the love Luke already felt just from hearing her tiny, rapid heartbeat.  But she never did- Once she had been cleared from the hospital, she headed back to their place, packed her things and left.

It had been almost four years since that moment.  Luke never thought he’d see the day where he could think of Sophie’s mother and not feel pain or anger, but he did.  Sophie made it easier, as every part of her resembled Luke; her blonde curls, her bright, curious blue eyes, even down to the dimples, and her personality.  The love Luke had for his daughter oozed out of him every single day, and you could tell how much Sophie loved him, too.

Something else that helped Luke through were his friends, or even more specifically, Calum.  The day Sophie’s mom had left, Calum was already there with his bag packed, ready to help him however he could.  Calum would stay up late into the night trying to soothe Sophie, while Luke tried to get some semblance of sleep.  When Luke was feeding Sophie, Calum would be doing the laundry, knowing that if he didn’t, Luke would wear the same sweats for a week straight.

“No baby wants to smell you wearing those sweats another day,” Calum had argued.

“My baby loves me just fine!”

“I didn’t say she doesn’t love you, I said she wouldn’t want to smell you.”

As Sophie grew, Calum wasn’t around as often.  He would come over whenever she or Luke asked, but he wanted to make sure that he gave them their space so that Sophie would learn to be social, branching out to make new friends instead of hiding in his or her dad’s leg when someone tried to talk to her.

One brisk February morning, his phone rang, indicating a FaceTime call.  The screen read Luke, but he knew at that hour it had to have been Sophie.  His suspicions were confirmed when he accepted the call, the top half of Sophie’s face appearing on the screen.

“Hi munchkin, what are you doin’ up so early?” Calum asked groggily, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in bed.

“I need your hewp,” She whispered into the phone, looking around the room with wide blue eyes.

Calum grew concerned at the word ‘help’, and automatically became more alert, “Is everything okay? Is your dad okay?”

“Yes, yes.  I otay.  Daddy’s otay.  I want you to hewp me make him a Vawentine,” She whispered again.  

Calum chuckled softly, running his hand over his face, “You called me at 5:30 to help you make a Valentine? Is this so I’ll get the supplies?” His question was met with a nod, which made him laugh again, “Okay bub, I’ll ask your dad if you can come over to have a playdate with me and Duke and we can make it then, yeah?”

Calum couldn’t see her smile with the way she was holding the phone, but the way her eyes lit up told him that she was smiling, “Okay! Wove you Uncle Cal!”

“Love you too angel, I’ll see you later.”

It truly wasn’t hard to convince Luke to let Sophie have a playdate at Calum’s place, citing he needed to go grocery shopping anyways and it was much easier and much cheaper when Sophie was otherwise occupied.

Calum kept the supplies hidden away until Luke was officially gone, just in case he came into the kitchen and saw the bag of red and pink materials.  Everything started off good, Calum was mostly helping her cut shapes so she could make a bunch of hearts for Luke.  

“Daddy aways say ask a grown up for hewp cutting,” Sophie explained, gesturing to Calum.  He wasn’t sure exactly why she decided to bring that up, but he’d roll with it anyways.

“He’s absolutely right.  You don’t want to accidentally cut your little finger, Daddy would need to put a bandage on it and kiss it better.”

Sophie was quiet for a moment, colouring in one of the hearts, “Why wouldn’t you kiss it?”

Calum laughed, reaching over to ruffle her hair, “I could kiss it better, but did you know Daddy’s kisses have healing powers?”

Sophie’s eyes widened, looking over at Calum as if he revealed all of the magicians secrets.

“It’s true! Think about it, when you get a booboo, does your Dad kiss it better?” Calum asked, leaning forward with a smile on his face, only growing bigger when Sophie nodded, “And doesn’t it always feel better right after?”

Sophie’s giggle in response was Calum’s answer, going back to cutting the paper for her.  The conversation between them was nonexistent for a few moments until Sophie piped up again.

“Does that mean you have to hewp me with the gwitter?”

Calum looked up, thinking for a moment, “Are you going to try and pick your nose with your hand covered in glitter again?”

Sophie placed a hand on her chest, feigning offense far too well for a three-and-a-half year old, “My nose was itchy!”

Calum laughed softly, grabbing the glitter from the bag so they could get to work finishing the Valentine before Luke got there.

Although Valentines Day was still a couple days away, the moment Luke walked through the door Sophie shoved the Valentine into his hands with a giddy smile on her face.

“What’s this my love?” Luke spoke softly, leaning down to Sophie’s height so he could read it.  Calum could tell by the way Luke’s face shifted how much that card meant to him, watching as he hugged Sophie tightly, “Of course I’ll be your Valentine, only if you’ll be mine though.”

Sophie enthusiastically replied with a yes and Luke scooped her up, resting her on his hip.

“Hey Soph, I have a surprise for you back at home but I think Uncle Cal would like to see it too.  Do you wanna ask him if he wants to come over for pizza?” Luke stage whispered to her, his eyes darting over to Calum.

The way he looked at Calum always made his heart stop, though he’d never admit it.  Calum was likely reading too far into it, but there was always something more to the way Luke spoke to him, and the way he looked at him.  A hint of softness, and a sprinkle of mischievous nature.

“Pizza?” Was all Sophie said, extending her hand to Calum as if that was his formal invitation.

“I’d love to join you.  Let me just get Duke fed and let out and I’ll let Roy know I’m headed out.”

It wasn’t long before Calum arrived at Luke’s doorstep, ending up meeting the pizza delivery person at the door as well. Paying for the pizza, he stepped inside Luke’s house like he had done many times before.

“Oh honey, I’m home,” Calum teased, being met by a small shriek as Sophie ran towards him at the door, “Y’know Lu, if you wanted me to buy the pizza, you coulda just asked me to pick it up on the way.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at Calum, taking the pizza from him carefully and turning to head towards the kitchen, “You know I never let you pay for food.”

He was right and Calum knew it; Luke always felt like he owed Calum for all he’s done for them- the long nights, the tears (from both Sophie and Luke)- Calum had been there through it all, so now Luke felt one of his only options was to never let him pay for a meal they shared ever again, which Calum of course didn’t agree with.

Looking down, Calum saw silver glitter all in Sophie’s hair, giving her a puzzled look, “This glitter wasn’t there earlier, was it?”

“Don’t ask,” Luke huffed as he brought out three plates with pizza on them, “She decided arts n crafts time wasn’t over.”

Calum chuckled, scooping Sophie up so they could sit on the couch and eat their pizza together.  Once dinner was over, Luke showed Calum and Sophie his surprise for her.  It was a bookshelf that Luke had built, that was from floor to ceiling and Sophie was absolutely in love.  Her love of reading outweighed any other passion she had developed growing up, and Luke slightly blamed (and thanked) Calum for it, as he had always read her to sleep, and as she got older that seemed to be the only thing to calm her.  Even if Calum wasn’t there, if Sophie was having a rough night Luke would FaceTime Calum and he would read to her from the stack of childrens books he kept at his house; it never failed to make Sophie fall asleep, and Luke shortly after, leaving Calum to be the one to hang up the call after muttering a quiet ‘Love you’ to the two of them.

“When you’re older, I’ll give you a ladder in here so you can reach the top shelf.  I don’t want you getting any bright ideas about trying to fly, ya hear me?” Luke said, pinching Sophie’s cheek as they stood near her new bookshelf.

“But what about the books up thewe,” Sophie argued back, swatting Luke’s hand away.

“Then me or Uncle Cal can reach up and get them for you cause we’re big and tall, yeah?” He scooped her up, lifting her as high as the tallest shelf so she could see, “No books up there right now right?”

“No books.”

“Guess Daddy is gonna have to get you more, huh?” Calum chimed in, tickling Sophie’s belly while Luke still had her held up.  Her loud giggle echoed through her room, little legs kicking frantically as she asked him to stop.  Calum listened, and once her fit of giggles calmed down, Luke set her down so she could explore the books on her new bookshelf.

“I’m sure she’ll ask you to stay and read to her tonight, just a heads up,” Luke nudged Calum, giving him a smirk, “Plan your escape now.”

“I would never,” Calum gasped, nudging him back, “It’s my favourite thing to do.  Don’t know anyone else who cares to listen to me read to them.”

“I do,” Came Luke’s whisper, causing Calum’s heart to skip a beat, “When she’s having a rough night, it’s definitely hard on me too.  Your voice is soothing.”

“Is that why you usually fall asleep too?”

“Honestly? Yeah, it feels safe so I just pass right out.  Not the best for my neck cause her bed is so small,” Luke chuckled, shifting his gaze to meet Calum’s, “But I love listening to you talk.”

Calum was sure Luke could hear his heart beating rapidly now, and he may have kissed him if his daughter wasn’t standing right there; judging by the way Luke’s eyes darted to Calum’s lips, he may have returned the favor, but they were pulled from their world by a loud yawn falling from Sophie’s lips.

“Getting tired, my love?” Luke asked, turning his attention to his daughter.  When she nodded, Luke cooed softly, wrapping his arms around her and letting her bury her face in his shoulder, “Let’s get your jammies on, okay?”

“Will Uncle Cal wead me stowy?” She asked in a quiet voice, big blue eyes looking up at Calum.

“You know the answer is always yes angel.  I’ll be just outside, once you’re settled in your jammies you can pick a story.”

Sophie called Calum back in once she had gotten changed, and Luke made sure to tuck her in and give her a kiss, letting Calum take over with the storytime.  Before Calum dove into the book, Sophie pulled a folded red piece of paper out of her pocket.

“What’s this, lovie?” He asked with a smile, taking it as she handed it to him.

“You give to Daddy,” She said, encouraging him to unfold it.

“Didn’t your Daddy already get a Valentine from you?” Calum chuckled, unfolding the paper to see it covered with silver glitter and shakily drawn hearts.  The silver glitter in her hair makes sense now.

“You give to him,” She repeated, pointing at the ‘to:’ and ‘from:’ written in Luke’s handwriting left blank.  Luke must have assumed Sophie wanted to give it to him, so he wrote on the card for her and was going to let her attempt to write Calum’s name.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead and setting it on her bedside table, “I promise I will.”

Calum proceeded to read to her until she fell asleep, which wasn’t very long after he started the book.  He smiled down at her when he realized she was fully asleep, pressing one more gentle kiss to the top of her head before he slid off the bed, carefully placing the book on the shelf.  Once he dimmed her light into the nightlight she liked, he picked up the Valentine and headed out of her room and down the hall to where Luke’s room was.

“Hey,” Calum called out softly, “She’s out, I dimmed her lights and left her door cracked just in case.  I should head out before it gets too late.”

Luke said a small thank you, before calling out to Calum again, “Tell me a story.”

With a small smile on his lips, Calum leaned against the doorframe, “Sophie really is your twin huh.”

Luke pulled the covers back, patting the spot next to him so Calum could crawl in, “What’s so bad about that? Aren’t I a delight?”

“You’re somethin’ alright.”

Calum just barely caught the pillow that was thrown at him, bursting out in a fit of laughter as he did so.  Crawling into the spot next to Luke, he laid on his side facing him and propped himself up on his elbow, “What kind of story do you wanna hear?”

“It’s almost Valentine’s Day, tell me a love story.”

Calum thought for a moment, an idea coming to mind as he chewed on his lower lip, “Once upon a time there were two boys… Well, four technically, but this story is about the two of them,” he began nervously.  “They formed a band with two of their other friends, and got to tour the world, seeing the sights.”

“Sounds like a fun story.”

“Sh, Sophie never interrupts,” He scolded, poking his finger against Luke’s chest, “As they got older, and became men, they all began to find love.  The two band members found forever love, while the two men in our story only found temporary love.  That is, until an angel arrived, and she showed the men that forever love isn’t always romantic.  Time went on, and the angel no longer needed one of the men as much, so he carried on with his life outside of them.  But one thing he always thought about was the man caring for the angel, and how much he missed spending every waking hour with him, and the angel too.  Slowly, he began to realize that his forever love was right there all along, they both were just caught up in protecting the angel that he was too blind to see it.”

Luke wasn’t breathing, and Calum was nervous that he was taking it the wrong way, until he met Luke’s eyes and saw them brimming with tears, then he really knew he fucked up.  “I’m sorry, fuck Luke I’m sorry.  I should have just told you, not like this-”

He was cut off by Luke’s lips meeting his in a sweet, delicate kiss, “Shut up.  What happens next in the story,” he whispered against Calum’s lips.

“Once they admitted their feelings, they shared a kiss… and lived happily ever after,” Calum smiled, pressing another chaste kiss to Luke’s lips, “I love you.  I think I always have, but I wanted to give you space to heal.”

“Both you and Sophie healed me.  I’ve known for a long time I loved you, but I was scared that I was just in love with the idea of having someone else around.  That’s not the case, though, because I want you, as well as want you to be around.  And I’m sure Sophie wouldn’t complain about you being around longer.”

Pulling the folded Valentine out of his pocket, he handed it to Luke, “Wanna be my Valentine?”

Luke’s mouth fell open, a laugh escaping his lips, “I thought she wanted to give that to you!”

Calum shook his head, “Nope.  She wanted me to give it to you.”

Luke shook his head, squeezing Calum closer, “I’ll be yours if you be mine.”

tag list:  @talkfastromance4​ @calmlftv​ @notinthesameguey​ @loveroflrh​ @mantlereid​ @irwinkitten​ @n-ctarinenga​ @ashtonlftv​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @monimickell​ @treatallwithkindness​ @castaway-cashton​ @tea4sykes​ @begluketostay​ @wheniminouterspace​ @another-lonely-heart​ @myfavfanficsever​ @xsongxbirdx​ @stardust-galaxies​ @karajaynetoday​ @bestyearssos​ @cheekysos​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @aquarius-hood1996​ @wildflower-cth​​ @youngblood199456​​ @uh-huhh-honey​​ @myloverboyash​ @cakelftv​ @f-mu​ @thatscooibaby​ @hoodhoran​ @sexgodashton​ @wildflower-cth​ @becihadshawn

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

for fwb prompts, “relationships aren’t my thing, but you are.” with starker?

Then I’ll Just Fade Into You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker)  Rating: Mature (M) Notes: I took this one in a weird direction - I immediately got the inspo for an A/O verse, so I hope you don’t mind! Thanks for the prompt, nonnie <3 Warnings: A/O verse, smut, mating bites, NSFW stuff Summary: 

Tony is unbonded and happy until he smells the sweet spice of one Peter Parker - his single status doesn’t seem nearly as appealing as it once did. 

Being an unbonded alpha at Tony’s age was usually unheard of – he was closing in on his late 40s. In society, that made him an ancient single man. Most people were already two or three pups into a long-term commitment by his stage in life – but he couldn’t force himself to do it. The suppressants kept his ruts at bay and the small tech company he ran was enough to occupy his mind most of the time.

In his early years, Tony was too busy finding his groove in the business world to worry about finding an omega – he’d been on suppressants for most of his life, he almost figured he wouldn’t be able to scent someone, anyway. The only time he ever thought about the niceties of having someone by his side was when the blockers weren’t enough to suppress the hormones that sometimes overtook him.

It wasn’t until he turned 45 that something started to change for Tony. His business shared an office building with a couple of other engineering companies. It’d been years since his gut clenched with unmitigated desire – but when he stepped onto the elevator a couple of days after his birthday, Tony got hit in the face by the greatest smell in the world. It caressed his skin and slipped into his pores without his permission – sunshine, ethanol, and something a little spicy, almost cinnamon like.

He stayed in the elevator until the source of the smell left the car – Tony took note of the 4th floor and rode the elevator the rest of the way up and then back down again. The remnants of the smell kept him in a euphoric state until the doors opened on his floor and he had to step out. Rhodey glanced at him with an odd look when he walked in – “You alright, Tones?” he asked, his voice dripping with concern.

“Yeah, yeah – I’m fine,” Tony answered mindlessly, his hand reaching up to scratch at his scent gland, the skin there all of the sudden alive and on fire. He attempted to throw a reassuring smile over his shoulder before he holed himself up in his office for the rest of the day. Tony let himself revel in the odd feelings washing over him and picture the man who belonged to the tantalizing scent. There was a whole list of things he needed to get done, but he ignored them all.

Tony felt pent up after a while, his restless energy taking him back to the elevator. Most of the building was already gone, the darkness of the opposite side of his floor reminding him that most businesses closed around 5PM not late into the evening like his. Getting onto the elevator, Tony took a second to scent the air, the lovely smell from earlier no longer lingering in confines of the elevator car. He slumped against the wall and pressed the button for the top floor – maybe the ride up would calm him down enough to sit behind the wheel of his car and get him home.

The ding of the elevator opening the very next floor had him opening his eyes – his nostrils flaring. Holy shit – Tony’s mind was screaming at him. The person he’d been thinking about all day was stepping into the small closed-off space with him. A sharp intake of breath had the man turning towards him, his brows pinched.

If the smell wasn’t enough, Tony found the younger man to be absolutely stunning. The navy-blue suit that fit his every curve covered what looked like long limbs. He wasn’t very tall, but he carried stalkiness through his shoulders and core. His cheeks were the slightest bit soft, the omega glow the only thing that really shouted his status. The underlying scent of suppressants didn’t stop the ethanol smell from seeping out into the air, the intensity of it absolutely sinful.

Heavy doors closing brought his focus back to the elevator car that was now taking them up. “It’s going up – “ Tony started to say, his eyes bulging a bit when the man took a couple steps closer to him.

“The intense smell of honey and coffee has been distracting me all day long and when I got up to leave, I noticed it coming really heavily from this elevator. It’s you. You smell like slow mornings – I’ve been daydreaming about coffee in bed all damn day.” There wasn’t much space between them when the man stopped – Tony couldn’t even put his hand straight out without touching him.

Tilting his head, Tony tried his best not to take too deep of breaths – it was getting harder to stop his natural instincts from taking over. The itchiness of his neck he’d been dealing with all day was suddenly all over his skin – the flush accompanying it reminding him of the few ruts he couldn’t fight off over the years.

“Funny, I got in here to see if I could chase the smell I haven’t been able to get away from all day – and here you are. Who are you? Why are you effecting me like this now?” Tony said everything all at once, his lungs struggling against the shallow breaths he forced himself to take. The last thing he wanted to do was pin this person against the wall without their consent – Tony was way more civilized than that.

A trembling hand shot out between them, the man looking at him with big, beautiful, brown eyes – his lips quirked in a small smile. “I’m Peter Parker. I just started at Osborne’s – today, actually.” Tony didn’t hesitate to take Peter’s hand, their palms pressing together.

Tony grinned at the tingle that went through him – his scent glands were throbbing on his neck, the base of his cock attempting to form a knot that had no business attending this little gathering. Dropping the warm hand, Tony licked his lips and locked gazes with Peter. “I’m Tony. Tony Stark – from Stark Industries a floor below you. You’re going to be a distraction, Peter Parker.”

----

And he was – the ultimate distraction. It took Tony three weeks to work up the courage to approach Peter with an invitation to go out for dinner. Like he figured, they hit it off almost instantly. The swirling haze of their scents mixing together in the perfect way didn’t take away from the fact that they were both mechanical engineers with a love of all things complex technology and Star Wars. Besides wanting to sink his teeth into the side of Peter’s neck, Tony actually wanted to listen to Peter and learn all there was to know about him.

It almost came as a surprise, Peter’s words as they walked out the door a couple hours later. “Let’s go back to my place,” he said, his pupils overtaking the light brown irises that distracted Tony the entirety of dinner. The spike in his smell had Tony nodding his head, his brain unable to think when he was being accosted with the greatest sensation he’d ever felt.

The change in Peter’s smell didn’t hit him until they were in his apartment with the door closed – the outside world efficiently locked behind the heavy wooden frame. Peter’s fingers were already working on the buttons of his shirt, the sweat at his forehead something Tony didn’t notice until right that second. Oh god – Peter was going into heat right before him.

“Pete – I should probably go. You’re – I-I shouldn’t be here,” Tony muttered, his brain already starting to shift into alpha mode, the little bit of control he wanted to keep over himself slipping away with every deep breath he took. He took a step back, only to be stopped by both of Peter’s hands digging into the front of his shirt.

“No, you should stay. I’ve felt this coming on for the last couple of weeks. It’s you, Tony. You have to stay,” Peter’s eyes were completely overtaken by the mindless black of hormones that would be the thing that ruled the man’s actions for the next few days. Tony knew he probably shouldn’t take advantage of the situation, but Peter was right – he’d been feeling right on the edge of his rut since his first whiff of Peter’s scent.

Peter’s lips were on him, the decision being made for him when warmth and freshly changed oil surrounded him, the taste of the other man even better than the deliciousness that invaded his senses. Tony wrapped his arms firmly around Peter’s hips and pulled him tightly against him – his body slowly slipping under the wave of sensation. “Omega.” Tony growled out the word, his control no more.

The next thing he knew, Tony was settling between Peter’s legs, his hands moving hungrily over hard nipples, down the center of Peter’s tight abs, and settling between his legs – the tip of one of his fingers toyed with the already slick rim. Peter was thrusting up against him, his greedy hands gripping whatever parts of Tony he could reach. “Alpha – I need you, your knot, please.”

Watching Pete’s heat spread over him was one of the most delightful things Tony got to experience – his inner alpha glowingly with pride. At this point, he was running strictly on arousal and hormones, his knot already starting to thicken, his cock harder than he could remember it ever being. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from pulling Pete’s scent gland into his mouth and milking out as much pheromone as he could to really drive the need home.

Tony forced himself to focus on the beautiful omega stretched out below him, begging for his attention. He slid down Peter’s body until he was resting on the mattress on his belly, his face level with the honey pot of heady scent and leaking slick. Tony buried his face there, Peter’s juices smearing all over his face and clinging to his facial hair. He took in a couple of deep breaths before getting to work, his tongue and teeth busy with soft skin and flavorful arousal dripping from Peter’s entrance.

Two fingers easily joined in the mind-numbing dance of preparation. Peter was begging him from above, his panted come-ons making it harder for Tony to focus on the task he wanted to make sure he did thoroughly. He wasn’t the biggest guy, but even he knew taking a wide knot like Tony’s would not be comfortable without a little bit of extra TLC.

Pulling his face away, Tony pressed a third and then fourth finger into Peter’s entrance – the desperate hole clenching around the digits in an attempt to keep them there, exactly where they were needed. Once he felt a little more certain Peter was ready for the brainless coupling they were about to engage in, Tony rearranged himself, his knees coming under him so his cock lined up perfectly with Peter’s entrance.

“Is this okay?” Tony nervously asked against Peter’s neck. He grasped his cock and let it press against Peter’s entrance before leaning forward to press his lips to sweaty skin. Nerves settled on his lower back while he waited for Peter to answer. It seemed futile, asking an omega in the middle of his heat permission – but it made him feel a little better, if nothing else. The second he plunged into the warm wetness, he wouldn’t be able to speak, let alone ask questions.

Palms pressed against his cheeks, the leverage of Peter’s hands making him look up. There was nothing left but heat and arousal in Peter’s eyes, the flush in his cheeks making him look delectable. “Tony – it’s you, okay? Fuck me. I need your knot.” Peter finished his words with a warm kiss, his tongue slipping into Tony’s mouth right around the same time he let his hips shove forward and the tip of his cock breach the omega’s tight hole.

His eyes slammed shut – the base of his cock throbbing from the sensation of being enveloped by the tightest hug. Peter’s slick made the press forward easy – Tony’s hips settled against his ass in one long, slow stroke. After a few deep breaths, Tony pulled out until just the tip of his dick was resting against Peter’s rim. His thrust back in hit Peter’s prostate dead on, dragging the first of many orgasms out of his precious omega. The word his sat at the back of his brain, making his skin prickle slightly – a claiming word like that never crossed his mind before.

It didn’t take long for Tony to be completely overtaken by his instincts. His hands gripped Peter’s thighs tightly, the younger man more than flexible and able to wrap his legs high on Tony’s chest. Between the ruthless pace of his hips and Peter’s less than subtle presses down against him, Tony’s knot was catching on the omega’s rim in no time. “Yes, alpha. Knot me, knot me. Claim me, please.” Peter’s head was thrown back and turned as far to the side as he could get it, his scent gland on display.

Tony ducked his head and pressed his hips forward one last time, his knot finally slipping inside, Peter clamping down around him with the force of his third orgasm of the night. His hips pressed back and forth as much as they could to milk his orgasm, each movement causing thick ropes of cum to dribble from his over-swollen erection. His teeth dug into the skin of Peter’s shoulder instead of his neck, the blood from the break in his dermis making Tony shudder with another round of cum being pulled from his cock.

Peter came down enough to notice the lack of a bite on his neck, his eyelids drooping with fatigue and disappointment. “You didn’t mate me,” Peter mumbled reluctantly, the tone of his voice giving him away. Tony wrapped him up, his arms pulling the sweat and slick covered omega tight against his chest.

“I couldn’t. We didn’t talk about this before biology took over. I’m not going to let nature dictate what we do any more than it already does.” He nuzzled his nose over Peter’s, his lips eagerly caressing Peter’s in a soft kiss. “Relationships aren’t my thing, but you are. I wanted to give you and a relationship a chance before I claim you and fill you with my pups.”

The words seemed to be enough for Peter – his body satisfied with the knot filling him and the happy and satisfied pheromones Tony was projecting. Tony kept him wrapped in his arms until he was slipping out – Peter already irritable again after only 40 minutes of laying in the calm.

Smirking down at the lusty omega, Tony rearranged them until Peter was stretched over a pillow with his ass in the air and Tony’s tongue licking up the delicious combination of Peter’s slick and his own cum.

----

The next time Peter went into heat, they were prepared. 

After they came out of the haze of four days of intense coupling, Tony made Peter a shitty omelet and gave him a rundown about his life and the lack of connection he always avoided. The demands of his career, the lack of interest – Tony laid it out before the omega that would eventually be his. Their pheromones were too compatible for either of them to ignore; especially Tony. His heart, mind, body, and nature weren’t going to allow him to miss the opportunity to settle with his true mate.

In the six months between their respective heat and rut, Peter and Tony got to know each other. Peter told him about being an omega in a very alpha oriented career field. He talked about his aunt May and the tragedy of losing his parents and the uncle he’d come to know as a father. They talked about pups and the idea of having them – Tony contributing his anxieties and worries to that particular conversation. In the end, Peter decided to step off his suppressants and let whatever was meant to happen, happen.

Tony took two weeks off of work when Peter called him to let him know his heat was coming on. He gave Rhodey free rein for the time he was gone and hurriedly left his office, his fingers jamming the elevator buttons. He rode up one floor, his face breaking into a grin when he saw Peter standing there, the omega springing into action when the doors opened. Peter kept his arms around Tony until they were settled in the fancy car. His hands wandered up Tony’s thigh, instead, the touch distracting – more than enough to kick start the rut he’d been most looking forward to.

They walked into Peter’s well stocked apartment with hands already getting rid of clothes. Tony spent a lot of time tenderly undressing Peter, walking them back towards the bedroom he was now more than familiar with. The abundance of pillows on the bed would’ve made him laugh if it wasn’t for the immediate sense of home and safety he got when he saw the nest Peter had been making for the past couple of days.

When Tony finally slipped into Peter a little while later, their hands were tangled tightly together by the side of his omega’s head. Tony peppered Peter’s lips with kisses as he slowly let his hips move on their own accord. “Fuck, Pete,” Tony found himself babbling every few thrusts, the edge of his knot starting to catch on Pete’s rim.

“Alpha, mate me. I want you to. I want you to, Tony.” Peter’s free hand turned Tony’s face until they were looking eye-to-eye. He nodded and let his thumb brush across the sharpness of Tony’s cheekbone. “I want you to.”

It wasn’t possible for Tony to deny him – he settled his mouth right over Peter’s scent gland, his teeth digging in when his knot slipped in. The first splash of cum against his omega’s insides corresponded with his teeth digging into that spot on Peter’s neck – tying them together. Letting his hips thrust through it, Tony hover over Peter, his head turned to expose his own. “My turn. Come on – make me yours.”

Peter didn’t hesitate, his teeth broke the skin – the softness of his tongue lapped at the mark, the edges already seeming to close.

Collapsing on top of him, Tony turned them until both he and Peter were on their sides, his hands running up and down his mate’s flank while they calmed down. He caught Peter smiling at him and pressed a kiss to his lips – a grin of his own pulling his cheeks wide. “You’re mine now,” Tony whispered, his chin resting on the top of Peter’s head.

“Jokes on you, alpha – I’ve always been yours.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

94 for sternclay for the winter prompts??? Especially if trans stern because I love that for him:’) either nsfw or sfw, hope you have a wonderful day!!!!! Your writing is a gift

Thank you so much!  I went with NSFW, and Stern is indeed trans.

94. you overhear my ex mocking me for being single at a holiday party and introduce yourself as my SO with a kiss on the cheek but we’ve never spoken before 

The things he does to pay for culinary school. 

It’s not the catering gig that’s bothering him; he takes pride in making food at conferences and office parties better than expected. It’s the fucking red, white, and green uniforms they’re making them wear for this one. It’s hot, itchy, and he really would prefer to wear the winter sweater Thacker gave him last year. It’s rustic but festive. It’s also sitting in his car, because no one told him about these uniforms until he got here. 

You can’t spring a surprise uniform on a guy who’s 6’4 and 190 pounds. The vest digs into his stomach, the jacket is too tight, and the pants don’t cover his ankles. 

It’s too bad, this party is pretty fun to work. It’s for a big-name publisher looking to seem hip, so the band is good and the decorations don’t look like the Macy’s Parade puked all over the room. 

The meals aren’t sit down, more a five hour cocktail party with canapes on trays and a spread of food at the back. Barclay sets out a new plate of crostini, wondering if they have enough fruit for the evening, when someone taps his shoulder. 

“How can I help-”

“I need a refill.” James, his ex, smirks at him.

“Not the bartender.” Barclay picks up the empty tray. 

“So?”

“I stopped being the guy to refill your drinks when you dumped me. Go ask whatever poor sap you dragged to this to do it for you.”

“Poor sap? Barclay, you sound like one of those boring mysteries you always read.”

“I’m trying not to swear, I’m at work.”

“Too bad you left me-”

“You broke up with me”

“-You could be enjoying the party instead of serving lukewarm food in a ridiculous outfit. Then again, looking like a clown suits you.”

“Man, c’mon.” Barclay can’t get into it here, James is absolutely the kind of guy who will use it to get him fired.

“Not surprised you haven’t found someone who wants to put up with your whole puppy-dog routine. What good is all that bulk if you’re just a pus-”

“There you are.” An arm snakes around Barclays waist and he freezes. James stands up straight, plastering on a smile.

“I wish I’d know ahead of time this is where you were working tonight. It feels wrong to be out mingling when you’re stuck back here. Oh well, next year.” A soft kiss lands on his cheek and in his surprise he turns to look at it’s source. 

The man is almost his height, trimmer and dressed in a black suit with a blue and silver tie. He’s blue eyed, with jet black hair slicked back and a face that puts every movie star Barclay can name to shame.

Barclay has no fucking clue who he is, or if he’s mistaking Barclay for someone else. He doesn’t seem drunk enough for that. 

“Mr. Stern, it’s an honor to meet you, I, uh, this-”

“This must be the ex you told me about, right, big guy?” Mr. Stern sets a protective hand at the small of his back.

“Uh, yeah. Babe, this is James.”

“So, where at Penguin do you work?”

“I, um, oh, look, someone is calling me. Bye, Barclay, nice seeing you again.”

The hand doesn't leave his back until James is out of sight.

“I’m sorry. He was harassing you and that seemed like the fastest way to make him stop.” Mr. Stern is still standing proud, but his voice is now softer, almost shy. 

“That’s, uh, that’s totally fine. I really appreciate the help. Kinda surprise you saw flirting as more appealing than, like, pretending to be my boss or something.”

“He’d know I wasn’t, trust me. And don’t sell yourself short, Barclay.” Blue eyes lock onto him and scan all the way to his feet, “even a bad fitting uniform can’t hide what you have you offer.”

“Th-thanks.” He’s either going to hide behind the serving tray or ask this guy to take him home and he’s not sure which will reinforce Jame’s “puppy dog” taunt more.

The other man, sensing his discomfort, steps back, “Sorry, that was inappropriate. I know better than to flirt with someone who’s at work and can’t escape. I shouldn’t keep you from doing what you need to do.”

“I get off at nine.” He thwacks the tray over his mouth, “ow. Uh, and I don’t mind talking to you. If you want to. I, uh, I don’t want you to feel like you have to spend this whole party chatting with the help instead of having fun.”

A sigh, “I should go mingle. It’s really okay if I come back?”

“Yeah.” Barclay smiles. There’s no way this guy is coming back; if he’s here single, he’ll have a date in the next five minutes. 

Fifteen minutes later, he’s standing a respectful distance away and asking Barclay how this compares to other parties he’s worked.  

“Middle-ground. It’s not the one time I got to work my friends art gallery opening, and it’s not the wedding where someone tried to deck the bride with the chocolate fountain.”

“Oh my lord.” 

“I was in the line of fire and was washing chocolate out of my beard for an hour.”

“No one at home to do it for you?” It’s not subtle, and nor is the glance he gets over the rim of a cocktail glass. 

“Some things I’d rather not ask Mama’s help on.” 

“You still live with family?” There’s no judgement in that smooth voice, just genuine curiosity.

“Oh, no, Mama’s my...I mean she’s technically my boss but she’s also my friend, almost like an older sister. I live above where I work because she owns the whole building and takes in staff rent-free when she can. It’s nice working at her place, since I can cut my hours doing this.” He gestures to the nearby table of season fare, “which does mean I missed the attempted kabob-maiming last week. Relatedly, I’m happy this isn’t an all you can drink party.”

“You and me both. Two years ago Dean Koontz threw a punch. I think it was--oh, um, excuse me, work calls.”

This time, Barclay allows himself a moment of ogling as Stern walks away.

They pick up where they left off when the other man comes back, leading Barclay to mention he’s a cook at Amnesty Lodge .

“Wait, really? I love the Lodge, the food there is incredible.”

Barclay’s skin matches his terrible red pants, “Thanks. The head chef has been letting me do more of the menu and I’m really proud of it.”

“You should be. It’s perfect, although it’s a pity you being in the kitchen means I haven’t seen you sooner.”

He tries to say thank you again, but it comes out a garbled squeak

“Was that too far?”  

“Nope. Uh, it’s uh, just that I’m out of practice flirting or, like, getting compliments. They were pretty thin on the ground in my last relationship.”

“I see.” He’s learning to watch Stern’s eyes rather than the rest of his face, which hardly ever changes from it’s calm, professional set. Said eyes drip with disapproval. 

Old habits of defending people--even ones who are dicks to him--kicks in, “I mean, he kind of has a point. No one wants to date a six foot puppy. Guys like me are supposed to be all in-charge and shit like that.”

Stern raises an eyebrow, “maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.”

“Got any ideas on where I, uh, should be looking?” He takes a half-step towards Stern, standing up straighter. Stern doesn’t move an inch, but gives him a proud smirk. The pride is directed at Barclay.

“Lots. And I’ll share them as soon as you’re off the clock.”

“Don’t I even get a hint?” Another step.

“No, Barclay, you don’t. You’ll just have to show me you can be patient.” His tone changes, laced with the promise of a hidden prize that Barclay will do anything to earn. 

He just manages to whisper out “okay” as Stern is called away again. When he comes back, Barclay setting out clean plates and more silverware. They talk about restaurants, about Barclay’s friends and all the ways he tries to help them. Barclay endeavors to not go into full begging mode in public by looking at Sterns wrists rather than literally anywhere else on his body.

“What are those things in your cufflinks?”

“The Hodag. It’s a cryptid from Northern Wisconsin, and a really excellent example of completely fabricated cryptid that nevertheless goes on to have a life of it’s own. It’s very common in small towns, since if it goes well it acts a tourist draw. In fact, there’s some indication that even the Loch Ness Monster began as just such a hoax and-” He snaps his mouth shut, clears his throat, “sorry, I try not to talk shop at these things. It, um, tends to get on people’s nerves.”

“But I wanted to hear the rest. I mean, I have a high info-dumping tolerance because of one of my friends, but also you clearly know your stuff and I have no clue about any of it so please keep talking?”

Stern’s face is full of excitement, and he grows more animated as he talks. It’s the cutest goddamn thing Barclay’s ever seen, and he saw Dr. Harris Bonkers, his friend’s rabbit, as a baby bunny in a bow-tie. 

He clocks out two minutes after nine, and Stern is waiting for him near the doors to the staging room. 

“Are those the only clothes you have with you?”

“No. I have nicer stuff in the car that I planned on wearing.”

“Go get it. Here, I’ll walk down with you so you won’t have trouble getting back in the building.”

After jogging to his car while Stern waits for him in the gold and silver tinseled lobby, the older man guides him to an elevator. He’s pretty sure Stern is older than him; he’s a big deal, but not in some sort of prodigy way, which means he needed some time to get so well-known. 

They’re so busy coming up with Cryptid-themed ice cream flavors that Barclay doesn’t notice the floor number until they step out into a darkened hall.

If Stern brought him up here so they could have a quick fuck, he’ll jump for joy. 

“My office is this way. I figure you might like changing not in front of your co-workers or in a bathroom.”

Damn it, why does he have to be considerate instead of horny?

The office Stern brings him to is modestly sized with a huge bank of windows on the one side, facing out over the city. From here he can see apartments, stores, restaurants, all lit up in festive colors, trees dotting the little boxes of light. 

Stern locks the door, leans back against it, and nods at the clothes in Barclays arms, “Put them on.”

“Here?” He eyes the wide windows, the fact that the other man makes no move to leave or turn around.

“Yes.”

He manages, around the heart trying to hammer up his throat, “Are, uh, are you gonna watch?”

“Do you want me too?” There it is, the immediate softness in his voice, and Barclay understands that if he says no, he’ll have his privacy.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He reaches for the vest, gets the first button and goes for the second in a hurry. 

Stern raises his hand in a ‘pause’ gesture, “Slow down.”

“Yes, yes Mr. Stern.”

A gentle laugh, “Not quite, big guy. Were we anywhere else, I’d tell you to call me Joseph. But here..” he tucks his hands casually into his front pockets, “here you call me sir.”

“Fuck”  Barclay battles himself to keep his pace slow, needing to be good but also so turned on he’s afraid he’ll start humping the furniture. He forces himself to wait a count of two between each button, gets his vest and shirt off without further instruction. Stern watches him the entire time in silent appreciation. His shoes and pants are more awkward to take off while standing, and he braces himself on the desk, not wanting to sit without permission. 

Then he’s standing there in nothing but his black boxers and the lights of town, laughter floating from the party while Stern studies him like a menu. 

“Fold every and set it on the chair.” 

He follows orders, boggles at getting hard from someone telling him to fold laundry. Jesus, Stern hasn’t even touched him. Is he even planning to? Barclay can’t decide which option he likes better. He returns to his spot in front of the desk, hands folded in front of him. 

“Should I, uh, get dressed, sir?”

Stern pushes off the door, walking casually over like a shopper regarding a display, “That depends; do you want to do back to the party with your cock hard enough to hammer nails?”  He glances down, then back up with a pointed stare. 

“N-not really.”

Stern raises an eyebrow. 

“Not really, sir.”

“Then we’ll have to do something about it.”

“Are you sure we should do it here?”

“Barclay, if we get caught, I’ll be twice as mortified as you. I’m only doing this because we’ve got this whole floor to ourselves.” He cups Barclay’s cheek and the sighs, rubbing his face against a warm palm. 

“Okay sir, I trust you.”

A moan curls up between them as Stern’s other hand runs along his chest.

“Good boy. You like to be good, don’t you, Barclay? You like taking care of people?” 

“Yes, so much sir, please, lemme be good to you.”

Joseph strokes his face, “That’s very thoughtful, Barclay. But I think it’s been awhile since someone took care of you. Would you like me to do that?”

“Please, sir.” The response is pulled from him, one of the many parts of him aching magnetically to be near to Stern. 

The other man shoves his right hand down Barclays boxers, sliding his thumb over the head once before stroking steadily up and down. 

“Holy fuck” Stern gasps, “a guy could have a lot of fun with this thing.”

“It’s all yours, sir.” 

Fuck, where did that come from?

Stern groans, tips his head to kiss across Barclays chest, murmuring as he does, “Is that what you want, Barclay? You want this” he speeds up until Barclay’s hands fly to the edge of the desk, keeping him from dropping to the floor, “to be mine?”

He whines, nodding.

Stern’s hand stops.

“Yessir”

It starts up again, “what else do you want, big guy?” He’s still kissing all over his upper body, tone nonchalant.

“You, sir, I wanna fuck you or, or you can fuUUUck me if you want, not very good at bottoming-”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Stern lightly pinches his nipple, “what else?”

“I want to blow you, and, and FUCK, I bet you’re a fucking great kisser and I want you to fucking boss me around as much as you want, wanna wear a collar, a blue one, ohfuck” Barclay scrapes his nails along the woodgrain, “fuck, sorry, that was weird-”

“No, say more” his grip tightens and to Barclay’s surprise he’s panting, “tell me everything you want, even it’s got nothing to do with sex.”

“I want, fuck, to be tied up and told how good I am, want to wear something stealth sexy out in public, want to fuck in a cabin” his mouth is fully ahead of his mind, which is concentrated entirely in his dick right now, “want to eat at every five star place in the city, want to drag you places by that fancy tie, have a new car, buy any cookbook I see, I want, oh fuckohfuck, sir, I wanna cum please, want to so bad.”

“You can cum whenever you like, big guy. But you have to kiss me while you d-” 

He cuts Stern off with a kiss, clinging to his shoulders and pouring desperate, deep sounds down his throat. Stern kisses back with precision and a pleased moan when Barclay cums in his boxers. 

Stern eases his hand out and Barclay flops against him, face buried in his neck as he rumbles out a thank you. 

“D-do you want me to blow you, sir?”

Stern kisses below his ear, “Yes, but that’s not doable right now. Unlike you, I don't have a change of clothes, and something tells me you’re a, um,” he bites Barclays ear, “messy eater.”

“Only when I’m enjoying myself, sir.” 

“You don’t have to keep calling me that, unless it helps you come down.”

“I’m okay, Joseph. Heh” he smiles, inhales a minty cologne, “I like that name. It’s classic.”

“Thanks, I picked it myself.”

Barclay chuckles, snuggles closer while ignoring the sticky underwear. 

“You know, I can give you everything you want. If you want me to.”

“Some of those are really fucking expensive, babe.”

“You really have no clue who I am, do you?” Stern steps back, moving to the other side of the desk and pulling out a packet of wet-wipes, sliding one across to Barclay before cleaning his hands.

“A really cute guy who should let me take him to dinner?” Barclay pulls down his underwear to clean the cum from his stomach.

“Ever heard of Lucky Park?”

“No fucking way. I man, I know it’s a pen name, but there’s no fucking way, a guy who’s never off the NYT Bestseller list wouldn't fuck a nobody cook.”

“If the cook was hot and interesting to talk to he would. The kitchen skills help a little.” Stern winks

“But you wrote The Peregrine Quintent,  and Red Dust, jesus christ your stuff has been movies.”

“Now you see why James was so startled; I’m Penguins golden goose. That’s why I even have time to write books on cryptids; they know to indulge me. Plus I put out at least a book every two years for them and it always makes a fortune. Do you need to sit down? You look kind of lightheaded.”

“I’m fine, uh, just trying to make sense of it all. Also I can’t sit down unless you want my bare ass on your chair.”

“Another time. I guess you’re going commando for the rest of the party, but I think you can handle it, big guy.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” He grabs his pants and pulls them on, “holy fuck, this can’t be real, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Barclay” Stern touches his arm, “it absolutely makes sense. I had so much fun talking with you, you’re such a, um, a sweetheart. And you’re built like a wet dream. If, um, if this is too much too soon, tell me to back off but I, I’m serious. I can’t remember the last time I got butterflies like this around someone, or wanted to buy things or do things just to make them smile. You clearly look after so many people in your life; will you let me look after you, at least for a little while?”

“You really want to?”

“Unlike some people, I like big men with a gentle center. You can be my six foot puppy any time. Wait, hold on, that, um, that came out weird.” Stern giggles and Barclay, now dressed, pulls him into a kiss. 

“I get it, babe. You wanna go show me off?”

“Of course. I’ll get my camera ready; we have to record your exes reaction.” Stern kisses his cheek, “after all, maybe this will teach him to know a good man when he sees one.”

[ohblackdiamond]

curved air (ace/peter, nc-17)

They didn’t do it every single night on tour. Just a lot of nights. Peter wasn’t even sure when it had started—it had to have been early on, when they were still sharing rooms. But at some point, years ago, he and Ace and Paul had started showering together after the show.

Notes: For @planet-neun. Merry Christmas, and I’m sorry I’m a day late, as usual!

It had been a brilliant show. 

Even now, a month into the reunion tour, Peter couldn’t quite believe how brilliant. How invigorating. How many people. The kids—kids younger than Jennilee, out there on their dads’ shoulders, wearing their makeup. The college girls, their hair and clothes so different from all those years prior, but their wants the same as ever—he wasn’t as interested in them as he used to be, but it was still a thrill just to see them there. Five or six of them had tossed bras up at the stage, and Gene and Paul had collected them like trophies, gleefully hooking them to their mic stands during the show. Like they’d never seen them before, when Peter knew they had. Gene had even brought the bra with the biggest cups backstage, half-jokingly telling a roadie to find the owner, like a demented version of Cinderella’s glass slipper.

The want was more exciting than the money. Seeing so many peoples’ faces lighting up. No one had wanted to see him in so long. He remembered the clubs and bars he’d been reduced to. Even when he’d been on tour with Ace last year, the crowds were nothing, less than nothing, in comparison. Almost no one had asked for his autograph in years, outside of the convention circuit, and now—

It was surreal. A second shot. He wouldn’t waste it. He couldn’t.

The one thing he’d been scared would hold him back wasn’t yet. The pain in his arms hadn’t been bad enough to affect his performances. He was trying, desperately, to prevent it however he could. He’d started dipping his arms in big bowls of ice immediately after getting off the stage. He had all sorts of wraps, too. None of the cortisone injections like he’d had in the seventies. The idea was, these days, to try to treat the pain and stiffness as naturally as possible, and he hoped to limit himself to over-the-counter anti-inflammatories, if he had to take anything. He’d be really careful.

His arms were still a bit pink from the ice. He rubbed at them absently, rolling up the sleeves of his bathrobe. He hadn’t stripped out of the costume and paint yet, the sweat making both stick to him like a second skin. He was waiting. Next to him, leaning against the wall and nursing a can of what Peter hoped was actually Pepsi, Ace was, too.

“Where’s Paul?” Ace asked. Peter had only seen him backstage briefly after the show. Gene was gone, too, but that was expected; he’d always head straight back to the hotel to bang groupies. He’d never been part of their post-concert routine. “Isn’t he hanging around?”

“I thought I saw him talking to Pam earlier.”

“That’s been at least fifteen minutes.” Ace hesitated, rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. Peter watched him blink at the black lipstick smear left on his skin, then laugh quietly, almost to himself. “She didn’t look too thrilled.”

That was an understatement. Paul’s wife had looked mildly humiliated after every concert so far.

“He’s probably cheating on her.”

“Fuck, he’s been cheating on her. But now he’s got lots better pickings than he used to.” Ace put his finger to his lips again, smudging away the lipstick at the cener. “’S different.”

“Cheating’s cheating.”

“Nah, man, I mean… he’s different, we’re different.” Ace took a swallow of his drink. Peter stepped up closer, trying to get a whiff of what was in the can without being obvious about it. Ace needed to knock it off. For Monique’s sake if not for his own. Keep his addictions more than an arm’s length away. Pete had done it more than ten years ago now. But Ace just seemed to keep on and keep on. It felt worse now than it used to, now that he saw him every day. It was like watching a man drown in an inch of water. “It’s not just the crowds. The show makes us different.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think Paulie’d be smacking his own ass onstage if he didn’t have the paint on?” Ace didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Nah. Pam’s not, y’know, used to that side of him.”

“The only side I see of him onstage is his ass. He’s not turning around like he used to.”

“Aw, Petey. Lemme make it up to you.”

Ace set the drink down on the table. Peter grabbed it, taking a sip, relieved when the only thing he tasted was Pepsi. Ace’s expression was unreadable at first, before the right side of his mouth raised up just slightly in a smile.

“I ain’t doing so bad. I promise. You wanna wait on him?”

It took a second before Peter realized what Ace meant. He hesitated, uncertain. If Paul and Pam were really having a row, Paul wouldn’t be back, ritual be damned. Part of him wanted to wait despite that. The rest of him wanted to step out of his sweaty spandex as soon as possible.

“Let’s just go. Any longer and this shit’ll be glued to my skin.”

“Wouldn’t be that bad a look,” Ace said, and clapped an arm around his shoulder. “C’mon.”

--

They didn’t do it every single night on tour. Just a lot of nights. Peter wasn’t even sure when it had started—it had to have been early on, when they were still sharing rooms. But at some point, years ago, he and Ace and Paul had started showering together after the show.

It would get pretty stupid. They’d done all sorts of comparisons on each others’ dicks, hard and flaccid. Soap-dropping. Smacking each other with washcloths. And they’d fooled around—sure, they’d all fooled around. It was if the shower was just another barrier to the real world. Like the inverse of Superman’s phone booth. Painted monsters coming in, regular guys coming out, with no one aware of the process in-between.

Peter had been surprised when the band showers resumed. Thought Paul would demure out of ego, not wanting the other two to see him stripped bare sixteen years on. But he’d been all for it. They hadn’t screwed around, just teased each other about the gut that those workout regimens hadn’t gotten rid of, but that was all right. It was fun. Reassuring. It felt good to know there was still a piece of the old times that really was just for them, a piece that had nothing to do with summoning up someone else’s nostalgia. It felt really good.

They’d usually use the showers by the dressing room, rather than the hotel. Ace would step in first, tinkering with the temperature, and then Peter, with Paul following behind. Twenty minutes easy of soaping up and shooting the shit. Which reminded Peter—

“You bring a pack of razors?”

“Said they’re in the shower.” Ace crooked another small grin. “They got everything ready for us right here whether we used ’em or not. Even the cold cream. Rider’s a mile long.”

“I can’t remember the last time I had a rider worth anything.”

“I can.” The velcro made an almost itchy sound as Ace, as blase about nudity as ever, peeled away the vest of his costume, tossing it on a chair for wardrobe to gather up later before starting on his boots, socks, and the leotard beneath. Wardrobe. They actually had wardrobe. A month in and it was still unbelievable. Peter inhaled sharply, then tugged off his shoes and socks, his bullet-belt of a vest. Stepped out of the leotard. The relief was almost instant, the cool air a balm on his sticky skin as they padded barefoot to the shower. “Last time I was with you.”

--

They really did have the cold cream there in a huge, personalized caddy in each shower stall. Had regular makeup removal wipes, too, and a fat stack of white towels of various sizes. Six different shampoos. Body wash. Acne cleanser. Bar soap. Loofahs. Razors. Condoms. Lube. God, and this wasn’t even the hotel. They didn’t even know whether KISS would even use the showers on-premises. He would’ve expected all this excess sixteen years ago. Now, it never failed to impress him. Never failed at all.

He picked up a washcloth and the cold cream out of habit and preference, unscrewing the jar and taking it with him back to the sink. One illusion he could take care of pretty quickly. He could hear Ace turning on the shower, and he waited, half-expecting Ace to call him in, but he didn’t. Instead, Ace headed over to the sink just as Peter dipped his fingers into the thick cream.

“Hold on, man.”

“What for?”

“Lemme give you a hand.” Ace scooped up some of the cream and started to spread it across Peter’s face. Messy dollops on his forehead, cheeks, and chin, before Ace rubbed it in properly with his fingers, the cream smearing away the paint, gradually exposing his skin. Ace smiled a little bit as he traced the tips of his fingers against Peter’s cheeks, turning the whiskers into smudged, blotchy ovals, and then nothing at all.

“Paint doesn’t hide as much as I thought it did,” Peter said dryly, after a glance in the mirror. Ace was still working on getting rid of the makeup, casually, slowly.

“You still look pretty good under there, y’know.”

“I’m fifty.”

“We can round down.” Ace took the washcloth, wet it, and wiped away the excess on his cheeks. “Close your eyes for me.”

Peter did. A second and Ace’s cream-coated fingers were carefully rubbing at the paint on his eyelids, spreading it out and up, towards his eyebrows and forehead.

“I never thought I’d be back to doing this at fifty. It’s… it’s far out, isn’t it? I still can’t believe it.” If the outdated turn of phrase bothered Ace any, he didn’t say anything, and Peter could feel the cloth against his eyelids next, just as gentle. “I can’t talk about it with Gene and Paul. They don’t get it.”

“They get it a lot better than you think.”

“Nah, nah. They…” Peter trailed, trying to come up with the right words as Ace kept wiping away his makeup. He wasn’t even mad at the other two for not getting it. He just wanted to explain. “They’ve been in that world so long. They dunno what it’s like to be down to nothing.”

“They’ve got a good idea. Maybe it was worse for them.”

“Worse? Are you serious? Come off it, Ace, they’re neck-deep in Hollywood bullshit and yes-men, they never—”

“This wasn’t just our last chance, Petey. It was theirs, too.” Ace didn’t elaborate any further. Peter opened his eyes, and saw Ace rinsing off the washcloth in the tap. The remnants of cream mixed with black greasepaint left a gray streak in the sink. 

“I’ll get your makeup for you, Ace.”

“S’okay, I’ll get it.”

“No, I--”

“Don’t want you holding your arms up anymore than you gotta.”

A slight warmth started up somewhere in Peter’s stomach as he shook his head.

“It’s not so bad. Nothing like it used to be. C’mon, let me.”

Ace bit his lip, then nodded.

“Okay. But in the shower, yeah? There’s something else I wanna get up to.”

--

He tried to be careful, taking Ace’s makeup off. Ace was still mixing up some kind of powder for the silver starbursts, one that bothered his eyes. The cold cream almost melted between his fingers from the steam of the shower before he could even get it on Ace’s face, sliding off easily. He didn’t look so bad under the greasepaint. Not so bad at all, but there was a tiredness along with that old eerie awareness now. It was too early in the tour for Ace to be tired. Too early for Ace to be worried.

Peter kissed him as soon as the last remnants of makeup were washed away, on down to the lipstick. Ace returned the kiss almost immediately, looping an arm around him, pulling him close. They lingered like that awhile, under the spray of the shower, quiet and warm and wet. Then Ace, less lethargic and lackadaisical than usual, mouthed along his throat while his hand reached for Peter’s dick.

“Takes longer than it used to,” Peter warned, as if it’d really been that long since they’d last messed around. Maybe it’d been years since the last shower ritual had ended in handjobs and blowjobs, but it hadn’t been more than three days since the last time Ace’s body had ended up against his. Ace just winked.

“I got the time if you got the money, Cat.”

His hand was familiar. It felt the same as ever wrapped around his cock, pumping absently. Only the backdrop was different. Peter grunted, let Ace slowly ease him backwards until he felt the cool wall tile against his skin. His breath hitched as Ace worked him up to full attention. No hurry. Never any hurry. Not even in those shitty motels from ’74, the ones that ran out of hot water less than five minutes in. He and Paul would hop out, cursing and shivering, but Ace would just cackle once it turned cold. He acted like they always had all the time in the world to come.

The onslaught of water wasn’t direct now, just stray droplets amid the steam. Ace’s grip slacked off almost as abruptly as it had begun, as he sunk down to his knees in front of him, hands tracing his thighs.

He’d watched Ace take him in hundreds of times before. More times than he’d watched Ace’s knees buckle to the floor during the show. Down-down-down. It didn’t mean anything there. It meant something here, here in this in-between space, where all the magic of spandex and greasepaint faded and left them as they were, flawed and ordinary. It always would.

Peter’s hands found Ace’s soaked hair, pushing the wet strands back from his face. He closed his eyes again, and smiled.

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Midnight Meadows (Pt.2)

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

"And he asked me to dance, personally!" Virgil said covering his face.

"Well that's good isnt it?" Remy said, taking a sip from his drink.

"No! He probably has expectations for me now! I can't keep this up for a month!" Virgil said, pulling his hood over his ears.

"Virgil, relax, everything will turn out just fine, you'll do just as well tonight," Janus said, taking a sip from a wine glass labeled with the word 'soup'.

"How am I supposed to relax! Hes a prince," Virgil said, tail still shaking.

"And all this fancy stuff is already getting annoying! The fabric is to itchy and it's barely breathable!" He continued, scratching at his legs again, gods he wished they'd come up with less tight fabrics to use for fancy things.

"Well the super fancy outfits were only for the first day, now as long as you're not wearing like- sweatpants or pajamas or something I'm sure its fine," Remy said, shrugging.

"But if he asks me to dance again I cant just be casual!" Virgil whined.

"You wont be casual, you'll just be confortable," Janus said, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe I should just stay home again- it's probably safer if I do," Virgil muttered.

"Oh of course cinderella, I'll be sure to lock you in an attic when he brings over your shoe so the mice have to get you out," Janus said sarcastically.

"Why would he go that far out for me?" Virgil said.

"Oh my gods baby bro have you not looked at the papers? The man is absolutely smitten with you!" Remy exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation.

"What do you mean hes smitten with me! Are we thinking of the same person?" Virgil said, making a grab for the newspaper on the table. He very well couldve checked his phone to find it faster, but of course , he wasnt really thinking at the moment.

And there it was on the front page, Prince Roman and himself, dancing, and next to that the headline "Small-town feline steals prince's heart, exclusive interview inside,". Virgil turned the pages till he found it.

His face turned redder with each word, he'd never received affections such as this before, much less from someone with such high status.

"See, I told you he was smitten, he'd be heartbroken if you didnt show up tonight," Remy said, taking yet another sip from his coffee.

"Alright alright, I get it," Virgil said as he set the paper back down on the table.

"Itll be fun Vi, I promise," Remy said, ruffling Virgil's hair through his hoodie, Virgil hissed and swatted his hand away.

"Ok ok- geez, someones fussy," Remy said with a laugh.

"Shut up-" Virgil snapped.

"Aaaaaaawwwww, baby's upset~" Remy poked Virgil's cheek slightly, snickering.

Virgil spent a few more hours relaxing, tonight's party started a little early than the previous night, so he had to get ready a little sooner.

Tonight's outfit was a short black skirt with a silver studded belt, A black crop hoodie with black and purple striped sleeves, and black boots. The only accessories he had today were a spiked collar, as it turns out, tying ribbons to your ears and tail wasnt all that comfortable.

Once again he'd gone to the ball in a carriage, and once again he still felt undeserving of it. But this went further as he stepped out, his hand was immediately taken by one of the guards.

This is it- I did something illegal- do they still have the death penalty? Am I getting guillotined? Virgil's mind was racing so fast that he hardly registered where he was actually going.

"He's here your highness," the guard said as he let go of Virgil's arm.

"Oh thank goodness- I was worried he was late," Virgil was started back to reality by the sound of Roman's voice, and of Roman's arms around his waist.

"You- what?" Was all Virgil could managed to say.

"I was worried about you! You left in such a hurry last night! I thought you might not show up today, thought I'd have to try knee-high boots on every neko in the country!" Roman said with a laugh.

"Worried? About me?" Virgil said, still confused.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" Roman said.

"Well- I uh- but you- but I havent done anything to deserve it! Every other guest brought you gifts and compliments and all I did was run off to the garden and sulk!" Virgil said, slapping a hand over his mouth as soon as he finished the sentence.

"That's exactly why I ran after you! And you gave me something not one single other guest had," Roman continued.

"Which was?" Virgil said, one of his ears tilting to the side.

"You gave me trust," Roman said.

"How the hell did I do that," Virgil said, stunned.

"Every other person I offered my hand to spent the whole of the dance looking at me like they intended to have my money and my head by the end of the night, but when I danced with you all you seemed to want to do was watch me, no talking, no pulling away because you thought it wasnt going well, just dancing," Roman answered.

"Your highness, the ball is beginning," one of the guards said from by the door.

"Well I suppose we should be off then," said Roman, linking his arm with Virgil's and guiding him to the ballroom. Almost immeadietly Virgil wanted to retreat back into his hoodie. It felt like everyone was staring- no- glaring- at him. And he was just standing there, holding the crown prince's hand.

"Dont worry, it'll be alright, they cant hurt you so long as you're with me," Roman whispered, arm now drifting to hold him by the waist.

"But you chose me over them," Virgil said with a quiet whine.

"And they'll just have to deal with shame of knowing they'll never be as radiant as you," Roman whispered, lifting Virgil off the last step and placing him in front of himself. Virgil felt his face flood with color.

Soon enough Virgil seemed to forget all about what was around him, his only focus being Roman.

Until Roman had leave for a moment to handle some, princely stuff.

So Virgil was alone, standing by a punch bowl at a party like he was back in high school getting told he was prom queen only to get silly string dunked all over the dress Janus had made him.

"Well Virgil, I didnt think I'd be seeing you so underdressed on a stage so soon again," Virgil froze as a very familiar voice reached his ears, and a wave of dread washed over him.

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

Tag list:

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@pricklyfish777

@the-sad-strawberry

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[alostdandelion]

My covid Journey

It all started with an itchy throat that I thought would naturally go away if I eat spicy food, or to be exact, ramen. Disclaimer: it was a Saturday and we had gone to the grocery the day before where I bought around 6 pieces of chocolate cream bread from Breadtalk. Yes, I indulged myself with sweetness because yum. I ate what I wanted to, I even ordered buffalo and garlic parmesan chicken wings but that itchy feeling in my throat remained. PS: virus & bacterias love them sweets too. 😅

Sunday, after hearing that they'll put us under ECQ where even outdoor dining is prohibited made me ask my cousin out to eat with me. Yes, despite my throat being itchy. It didn't cause any alarm to me, as I wasn't feeling uncomfortable... YET.

After eating with my cousin, I went back to my place and spent the rest of the weekend watching or doing whatever.

I could still recall that Sunday night though, it was really warm I couldn't fall asleep. But then, suddenly, I shivered. I felt chills. I thought I didn't have fever, but that chilly feeling put me to sleep anyway.

Monday, March 29 - I usually get up at 5 in the morning but that day I got up at around 5:30, feeling weak which I mistook as being lazy. I thought I wasn't feeling well but decided to take a shower and go on with my day.

I did my thing as usual, but as the hours passed by, I started to feel cold despite wearing a sweatshirt. Usually when I wear that, I'd feel comfy already but at that instance, I was still shivering. I tried my best to avoid my officemate as I was afraid to infect her with my fever, if that made sense. I was totally avoiding skinship.

I was able to overcome Monday, and ended up taking Paracetamol before sleeping because at that point, I was well aware that I had fever.

Tuesday, March 30 - I still got up late, mistaking being unwell as being lazy. Damn I hate being lazy. But this time I had to take Paracetamol before going for a shower. I felt uneasy as I still had fever but I still went to work. Just wow.

I was alone this time which somehow relieved me. I was still shivering in the office despite wearing my sweatshirt, and had to take Paracetamol continuously as my fever was recurrent.

Wednesday, March 31 - I still got up late, took Paracetamol before going to the shower. This time I was worried. I had fever for 3 consecutive days already but covid didn't cross my mind, as the itchiness in my throat was gone by Monday, leaving only fever to deal with.

I still went to work because it was the end of the month but ugh, it felt really awful. I was shivering, and my nasal passages were somewhat uncomfortable. They felt dry and I had that feeling of catching a cold I decided to inhale steam from hot water. It was really awful I even decided to leave work early. I left an hour earlier because I wanted to take a rest already, to just stay in bed.

Thursday, April 1 - I got up late again. I was hesitating that time because I was really feeling unwell and uneasy. I still took a shower and got ready for work but the thought of walking to the office terrified me. I suddenly thought, "who will look after me if something happens on the way?"

I kept worrying about work, work, and my client. But... how about me? Who would worry about me?

I ended up crying. I cried real hard. It was around 6:30 already and I usually leave before 6 but at that time I was sitting on my bed, crying for myself.

"Nag-aalala ka sa work mo, kapag ba may nangyari sa'yo pananagutan ka?"

I dropped my bag and sent an email that I wouldn't be able to come to work, but instead, I'll come in on Monday. It was supposed to be a rest day but due to my condition I decided to just swap them. I thought I should really take a good rest that time because I was really sick. I even sent a voice clip to our HR manager because I really couldn't go to work that day.

I went back to sleep and stayed in bed the whole day. I thought taking a rest would result to my recovery but damn during that afternoon, I was crying again. I knew for myself that my fever was high. I couldn't measure then as I didn't have a thermometer but I knew it was because I felt really warm. I was even covered in blanket despite the sun shining brightly outside.

I was crying, I was saying whatever. Was it delirium? I was asking God and my late parents to just take me with them. I didn't like that feeling, and all I could do was cry and pray.

I was taking Paracetamol for my fever, I also didn't have the appetite to eat as I was nauseous.

Friday, April 2 - it felt the same. I still had fever, nauseous, I didn't want to eat but I needed to because I felt hungry. But this time, I was well aware that it could be covid and that I didn't want to infect other people.

I didn't want to trouble anyone, but I had no other choice but to tell our dorm's caretaker and ask for her help. She received the food deliveries in my behalf and brought them upstairs, to the 4th floor. I was really apologetic and thankful to her. The moment she knew I was sick, she helped me buy food and medicines, disinfectant, and other things I might need.

I knew I troubled her a lot. She had to go out a lot of times to buy the things I needed. I kept my door closed and wore mask when I go to the restroom. It was the least I could do. :'(

She helped me through those days of hardship. I still had fever, still nauseous, still no appetite, there was shortness of breath with little activity, and I was starting to cough. It was the weekend, when our HR manager decided to have me tested for covid. With me not getting any better, I admitted and accepted the possibility that it could be covid.

By Sunday my fever was gone but I listened to them and proceeded with the swab test.

April 6, Tuesday. I didn't have fever anymore but was coughing slightly. The med tech who did my swab test was a friend of our HR manager. She was kind enough to buy me lunch, courtesy of HR manager. The way she did the swabbing was gentle, her hands were soft and light it didn't feel painful at all. 🥺 thank you Mariane! ❤️

Right after being swabbed, I felt hungry I started to eat the burger meal she brought me. By this time I was feeling just fine I even drank the softdrinks. 😅 And throughout that day, I started to have the appetite to eat. I was hungry and craving for food. ❤️

I ate everything Jira brought me. Yes. She was bringing me food, healthy meals to be exact that was given by my landlady - her aunt. How thankful I am to have such caring and thoughtful people around me. 😭😭😭

April 7, Wednesday, my test result came out and it was positive. It was covid. Of course I had to tell them. They were all worried but I assured them that I was already feeling better, that I had passed the tough stages. 🥺

I actually hesitated to tell Jira as I was afraid that if she finds out, she wouldn't bring my food upstairs anymore but contrary to my worries... the more concerned they became. They even brought me warm lemon water, they even cooked soup and lugaw to feed me. 🥺😭

This went on, until this week, when I told them I was getting better already and that it's fine even if they didn't send food anymore. I felt shy already. 🥺 then our HR manager sent this food package because it was their birthday. Kkyaaa I was really happy while eating the lugaw because with every scoop, there's laman / meat! 🙈❤️

So as of this writing, April 15, I'm on the 8th day of my 14-day quarantine. How do I feel? I feel better, well, except for my growing wisdom tooth causing pain. 😅 But this pain is nothing compared to the pain I felt during that difficult stage of my covid journey. 🥲

I am still recovering, still eating lots of healthy food, taking vitamins, and eating sweets from time to time. 😅

My 14-day quarantine ends next week April 21 and I can't wait to return to work already as I can't stand the sight of my officemate being troubled because of me. 🥲

Always take your vitamins - twice, wash your hands, and do physical distancing. This virus is invisible, and could be just around the corner. I was complacent I forgot to wash my hands from time to time, lesson learned.

But this experience showed me the people who actually care for me. It made me realize that I'm actually loved and cared for. I cried a couple kf times because of this disease, but I also cried because I was thankful to have people look after me physically and virtaully.

How thankful I am that my case was mild, as I didn't want to further trouble the people around me. But imagine for other people if they get infected, some could get serious. 🥺

Thank You Lord for staying with me! ❤️

Stay safe and healthy! ❤️

Timeline 🥲

27 - itchy throat

28 - itchy throat / 12AM chills

29 - fever

30 - fever, mucus

31 - fever, mucus, headache, inhale uhhhh

01 April (Day 6)

4:14 - high fever

5:10 - medyo okay

6:19 - medyo okay nasusuka

7:13 - ang ginhawa :((((

02 (Day 7)

6:24 - sinat, sipon konti

8:19 - lagnat inom gamot, nausea

10:30 - gutom na gutom :((

11:21 - inom gamot. Okay lang.

4:24 - gutom

5:30 - lagnat

03 (Day 8)

5:25 - ubo, sinat?

8:14 - ubo, sinat

9:37 - antok 9:00 gamot

12:00 - ok lang

5 - 37.6

7:41 - 37.7

8:13 - 36.8

04 (Day 09)

3:36 - 36

7:21 - 35.5

7:46 - 36

10:40 - 36.1

12:36 - 35.8

2:13 - 36.7

3:07 - 36.8

4 - 37

4:53 - 37.3

8:26 - 36.6

05 (Day 10)

8:20 - 36

9:16 - 36.6

11:07 - 36.8

5:55 - 36.5

06 (Day 11)

9:10 - 35.8

10:30 - 35.2

07 (Day 12)

10:15 - 35.8

[miss-pearlescent]

I Want You (M)

You know you are attracted to the incubus named Kai, but is it because he’s an incubus or because he is Kai? You’ll just have to let him show you.

Rated M for smut. Also: fluff advisory (o˘◡˘o)

The lace collar was itchy. The corset was tight. You tried not to breathe to hard as you saw him approaching, his lean body quick and agile. You focused your eyes on the queen, ignoring the longing to look over and see what Kai was up to.

It was the queen’s coronation ball, a special day to mark the unification of demons and humans in the kingdom. You had always thought she was fit for the role despite what others said, and you were glad for all the changes she brought to the castle. That included the recruitment of many demons from the other realm.

You weren’t entirely sure how things worked down there but you had heard that only the “goodest” of the bad were hired, whatever that meant. Either way, you had been able to make many new friends in the past couple of years, ones who were accepting and didn’t look down on you for being the stable master’s daughter.

“Boo,” a low voice whispered in your ear and made you turn. It was hard not to stiffen and let your jaw drop to the floor, so you quickly looked away instead, trying your hardest to concentrate on whatever the queen was saying.

Beside you, the handsome devil named Kai stood by your arm, back straight and arms behind his back. On any other day, he made you blush in his training uniform. But tonight, he wore a deep blue formal jacket and a gold sash branding him as one of the kingdom’s royal knights. The sight took your breath away, even if you could only see him from the corner of your eye.

“Good evening,” you whispered back.

He nudged your elbow. “I have something for you.”

Curious, you allowed yourself to peek over. “Me?” You tried to think back. It wasn’t your birthday. He didn’t owe you any favours. There weren’t any special occasions for gift giving coming up.

With a mischievous grin, Kai brought his arm forward and presented you with a small plate piled high with tarts, cakes, and biscuits.

Your eyes bugged out so much that you thought they were going to pop out of your eyes. “How did you get this? Dinner’s not even served,” you hissed.

In response, he put a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret.”

“You are...sneaky.” You put a hand over your mouth to cover your laugh and quickly took a lemon tart before anybody could see. Discreetly, you took a bite, loving the sweet and sour that mixed on your tongue followed by the flaky crust.

You noticed Kai watching you intently and looked away again. His stare was unnerving and you did not want to make a fumble of yourself on such an important night.

“Will you be needed soon?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

Kai turned to the stage. “Soon. I am waiting for your father’s signal.”

You found your old man waiting at the edge of the stairs, wringing his hands on his lap. He was to usher all the knights onto the stage when the queen’s speech was over so that they could represent the solidarity of humans and demons fighting for the good of the kingdom together.

“How are things with your father?”

Your shoulders slumped a little bit. “They’re okay.” The two of you had had a quarrel the other day when you were manning the steeds and your father was burdened about the ball. He had stopped you in the middle of your work day and lectured you once again about finding a good husband, this time on coronation night.

But the thought of meeting a man at the ball terrified you. You were dressed up in clothes that you wore once in a blue moon, with your hair swept up into a beautiful braid and your lips painted rouge. It would be like a Cinderella story if you met the man of your dreams tonight and then he had to see you dressed in pants and tunic, shovelling horse dung all day. The thought that a man might turn his face away in disgust made you want to crawl inside a hole, especially seeing all the beautiful ladies attending tonight.

Besides, you liked things the way they were, and you didn’t want to meet a new man because that might mean that your friendship with Kai would grow distant. He always mentioned how he would be slightly jealous if his wife had a male friend as close as Kai was to you. Always the gentleman, Kai said—much to your dismay—he would be willing to stay away from causing friction in a relationship when you found a husband of your own.

If that ever happened.

“He’s likely taking his stress out on you,” Kai added while taking a bite of a small tea cake. “He’s been having to deal with all of us the past two weeks and I think it’s turning his hair grey.”

You smiled because your father did seem quite nervous about today. But everything was going well so far and you knew whatever happened tonight would be for the best.

You saw your father raise his hand and wave not so subtly. “That’s your cue,” you said in a hushed tone, taking the plate of desserts out of Kai’s hand.

He rubbed his hands on his pristine white pants—a nervous habit of his—and you bit your tongue to keep from telling him that the action might dirty his pants. It was too late now.

Kai turned toward you and opened his mouth, then closed it in a smile. “You have something here.” He reached out his hand and brushed his thumb against the corner of your lips.

You sucked in a breath. Looking down, you saw a crumb fall to the floor. Though he was simply helping you keep tidy, he might as well have branded you with his touch. Your lips were warm and tingly as he walked away, cracking his neck from side to side.

You watched, starstruck as the knights lined up and stood on stage, their backs stick straight and their uniforms gleaming with badges. When the commander stepped forward to give his speech, his voice cracked and there was a slight murmur of giggles through the room. But your eyes stayed on Kai as his mouth curved in a slight smile and his gaze grazed the room to land on you.

He winked.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and you frantically stuffed a tart into your mouth, not caring about chewing.

“You know, he is an incubus.”

You turned to the voice and found one of the aunts of the royal family with her arms crossed and her lips pursed. You weren’t sure which aunt she was, just that she frequented the castle with her sons.

She cut you a look full of judgement. “A girl like you should not be spending so much time with the likes of him. His only goal is to ruin you, and I can see that you are already falling for the tricks up his sleeve.”

You looked down at the desserts on your plate. “It’s just a few cakes,” you muttered.

“A few cakes here, a few flowers there. All he needs to do is snap his fingers and you will be on your back in the hay bales for him.” The woman rolled her eyes. “You are blind if you think he isn’t playing this game with all the women in the castle. Do yourself a favour and find a nice stable boy who will still be willing to marry you while you’re young and untouched.”

Suddenly, the desserts made you want to vomit.

Your father didn’t say those kinds of words but wasn’t that what he meant in the end? Find someone who would be willing to marry you before you become old and alone?

You had known Kai for years now and knew from the first day that he was a demon, specifically an incubus. But was that why you were so attracted to him that you didn’t even want to entertain the thought of marriage?

You bit your lip as the audience clapped, because you didn’t want to believe the woman. Kai was not the type of person to do such a horrible thing and play with your feelings. Hell, that was why you stayed just friends with him. He had never pushed for anything other than friendship. He was just being himself.

It was simply you that fell for him.

Inwardly, you groaned and turned to leave the room. It was suddenly too stuffy and you remembered how much your dress itched and the tightness of your corset. You needed to leave and—

“Oof!” You bumped into a broad chest and steadied the cakes in your hands. An arm wrapped around your shoulders as you wobbled from the force of crashing into the man. You blinked upward, a little dazed. “How did you get back so fast?”

“I guess I used my demon speed to teleport here,” he teased with a slight shrug then switched to being serious. “You okay?”

You nodded and set the cakes down on a table before rubbing your forehead. “I’m fine. I was just going to...” What? Run back to the stables and sulk with the horses as you thought about a plan of attack for the new year so that you could get married and everybody will be happy?

Kai waited for a moment before looking around. “Did you want to dance? We can practice what we learned last month.” The two of you had inserted yourselves into a busy class held by the dance instructor that was hired for the royal family. At the back of the class, you remembered losing your breath as the two of you tried to keep up with the instructions while holding back your laughter.

The memories were fond and you were about to say yes when you saw the glare of the older woman from behind Kai’s shoulder. Quickly, you shook you head as you watched the waltz begin on the floor. “I don’t remember the steps.”

Kai’s expression fell to one of concern and mild rejection. You didn’t like doing that to him, but dancing in his arms again would make your heart soar way too high.

“Is everything all right?” he asked softly so that nobody else could hear.

Your gaze locked on his and you wondered if he could see all the emotions that were going through your mind. You wanted to tell him everything yet nothing at all because that would just make you vulnerable to him. Slowly, you shook your head, barely enough to be detectable.

He turned and held out his elbow. “Let’s go for a walk around the room then. Take my hand.”

Thoughts racing, you placed your hand on the crook of his elbow and followed him, ignoring all the gazes that seemed to follow you.

Were you what the masses considered a whore? But you had never gone to bed with a man.

Did they consider you a demon-hunter, a term for human women who slept with high-ranking demons so that she could move up the social ladder when no humans would have her? But, again, you had never slept with a human let alone a demon.

But all this time spent with Kai sure made it look like you did.

Was it wrong that you just liked being around him?

“You look very beautiful tonight,” Kai’s deep whisper interrupted your thoughts.

You blinked and your face flushed. “Thank you. You do, too.” Stuttering a little, you corrected yourself. “I-I mean, handsome. Though the clothes you wear are very beautiful.”

He chuckled and squeezed your hand. “But you’re the one getting all the lovely stares from both men and women.”

You looked around and wondered if Kai’s eyes were working properly. Those men and women were staring at her out of contempt for being with a demon, not for being attractive.

Even after all these years of mixing between the species, there was still underlying hate and prejudice beneath the surface.

“I think they are surprised to see the stable master’s daughter in a dress,” you muttered.

Kai laughed. “If I’m being honest, I was surprised, too. But you look like you want to rip it off the moment the ceremony’s over.”

“I do,” you agreed. “It’s stiff and I can barely breathe.” You tugged on the lace of your collar.

Kai squeezed your hand, tight. “Don’t do that.”

You looked over, startled by the change in his voice. It was gruff, a complete change from the soft gentleness that he usually spoke with. “What?”

He kept his stare straight ahead though now it was harder and his mouth was in a tight line. “Men are staring.”

You looked down and saw that the lace had moved a little, exposing even more of your breasts that were bound so tight that they nearly reached your chin.

Okay, that might have been an exaggeration but for somebody who barely had an breasts, this was all new to you.

And Kai was right, men were staring, and this time their eyes were focused on your breasts.

You flicked open the fan that was hanging on your wrist and fanned yourself lightly, taking care to cover your decolletage.

“This was what my father wanted, wasn’t it?” you said with chagrin. “For me to find a man who would be willing to marry me.”

“There are many men who would be happy to marry you,” Kai rushed in with his hard voice. “Lucky to marry you,” he added.

Your heart picked up its pace. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I am simply stating what I know is true.” Sometimes you wished demons weren’t so unreserved with their statements.

What could you say to that? Kai always had a way with words that made you speechless. He knew how to work his way into your heart, and you could do nothing but think about what the woman had said earlier.

“Is this your incubus side speaking to me?”

“Hmm?” He turned to you with a raised brow.

You gave him a stiff smile. “You are always such a smooth talker. It must make all the women swoon. Is that one of your demon powers?”

“No.” He gave you a slow blink and his lips curved into that mischievous grin once again. “But would you like to see some of my incubus powers?”

Did you? Honestly, yes. You had never been in contact with demons enough to witness their powers in real life. There were only a couple stories here and there about fire-breathers and levitation. It would be cool to see what Kai could do. Eagerly, you nodded.

“All right,” he replied and placed a hand over yours. “But you have to make sure you keep your hands on me or else every woman in this room might get a feel for my abilities.”

A surge of jealously bubbled in your gut and you tightened your grip.

You walked with Kai a few more steps before you were transported to a realm of darkness.

It felt like a dream.

You looked around and could only see black for miles and miles. You waited and as the seconds ticked on, your heart began to race.

“Kai?” you whispered.

And magically, he appeared before your eyes. You were relieved but only for a moment because you looked down and realized he was naked.

And you were naked.

And suddenly you wanted nothing more than to lie back and let him have his way with you. So you did.

You weren’t sure what was happening but you laid prone on the ground, your back arching up as your nipples perked. It seemed that just watching him stare down at you in such a vulnerable position was enough to get you turned on. Not to mention, his cock was standing up straight and proud.

You usually thought horses were too hung and disturbingly big but Kai’s was just...beautiful. It looked like the perfect length, with thick ridges that you were sure no human man had. The thought of that pumping inside you made your thighs quiver.

He crouched beside you and stroked your cheek, but all you wanted was his cock inside of you, and you didn’t care where. You licked your lips, ready to take him into your mouth and suck him dry.

He pressed a hand to your shoulder, pinning you to the ground with a chuckle. “This is my time to demonstrate my powers to you, not the other way around.”

You whined in protest and gave him a pout.

He shook his head. “I want you to see all the ways that I want to take you.” Your lips parted as a soft sucking sensation began between your legs and your thighs were pushed apart. “Look down,” he said.

You did as you were told and found Kai’s head between your legs, his mouth playing with your folds.

“I want to spend hours down there.” The Kai down there was busy, but his voice still filled your head. “I want to make you nice and wet for later.”

“L-later?” you panted as you felt a finger enter your slit.

Two hands appeared out of nowhere and suddenly you were flipped onto your knees, your hands holding onto an invisible wall. Kai was still sucking on your clit and pumping his fingers in and out of you, but you couldn’t turn your head to see.

Instead, another Kai materialized in front of you, his two hands rolling your nipples between his fingers.

“Later, when my cock fills your tight pussy, I want you to scream my name.”

“Kai...” you were already ready to scream his name as you felt a hollowness in your belly. You wanted to beg him to mount you like one of the stallions to the mares.

“You want it dirty like that?”

You bit your lip as your legs trembled. He was pinching your nipples hard and his fingers were also hitting the perfect spot inside you at the same time. You weren’t going to last long.

Kai’s lips found a sensitive spot on your neck. “Control your breathing. People are looking,” he murmured.

For a moment, you didn’t know what he was talking about, but then you were transported back to the ballroom and found that the tops of your breasts were heaving and you were dripping between your thighs as you continued to pace around the room with him.

You drew in a deep breath and fanned yourself, trying to cool off.

“Ready to go back?” his low voice reached your ear and you gave a small nod.

You were thrust back into the darkness again with Kai’s lips and hands all over you. You cursed because the brief break and sudden onslaught of his ministrations nearly pushed you over.

“Would you like to know what I would feel like inside you?” he purred.

You gulped and nodded, desperate to feel him stretching you open.

But then suddenly everything stopped and you let out a small whimper as you fell to your hands and knees, your heat sopping wet and your body shivering with need.

A hand tilted your chin up and you locked eyes with Kai’s handsome face.

“This is just a dream,” he said. “You are not a ruined woman if you agree to this.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of yours. “But I want you, and I want you to know it. You have been what I longed for for years.”

You paused. “I am just a stable girl.”

“Just a stable girl?” Kai let out a breathy laugh and kissed you again, this time lingering on your bottom lip. “You are the smartest, most hard-working woman I know with the biggest heart. You treated me like a friend from the start, even though you knew I was a demon.”

Your cheeks turned red. “I might have been harbouring a slight crush.” Your cheeks turned redder still. “And I might still be harbouring that crush, but I know you are an incubus and I know you can have any woman with the snap of your fingers,” you said, quoting the older woman from earlier.

He was just a breath away and you wanted his kisses so bad, but you knew you had to finish explaining yourself.

“I was scared of getting hurt in case I was just a friend in your eyes.”

Kai’s chest rose and fell as the moments passed by. “I know you told me you wanted to wait till marriage, but would you like to know how I see you in my eyes?”

You licked your lips and he followed the gesture with his liquid stare. “Yes.”

And all at once your body was covered in white fabric and a bouquet of flowers dropped into your hands. You looked down and realized you were wearing a big wedding dress.

You scanned the area and found yourself standing alone in a garden. “Kai?”

“Boo,” a raspy voice came from behind you and you whirled around to find Kai in a black suit, his hair slicked back and his teeth shining as he smiled down at you.

“What is this?” you asked, sweeping your arms around at the rows of chairs lined up in the garden.

He scratched the back of his neck, another nervous gesture of his. “I always wondered what you would look like in a wedding dress.”

“Really?” You looked down and smiled. “I like it.”

“Mm,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your exposed neck. “I like it, too.”

You sighed as all the arousal from earlier rushed back to you in waves every time he sucked on the spot on your neck. It was as if that caused all the other parts of your body to feel the suckling too.

Then you felt hands on your hips and something slide between your slit. Your eyes widened. “What was that?”

“It’s me again,” Kai said, raising his head. “Would you like to see?”

You nodded and the Kai in front of you disappeared. You craned your head and found him behind you, holding your hips with your dress flipped up, his thick cock slicking himself against your entrance. “You have a lot of playroom with your power,” you pointed out.

He smirked and canted his hips again. “I like making you wet and I will use all the tricks up my sleeve to do it.”

You felt fingers flicking your clit and nipples, yet Kai’s hands were anchoring your hips and your bodice was still laced up tight. This couldn’t be possible.

“If you want a hundred tongues on you, I could make that happen,” he said proudly.

A hundred might be overkill, you thought as you keeled over from the pleasure, holding on tightly to one of the chairs. Your senses were being overloaded as he teased every part of your body.

“I’m going to give you what you want, my love, don’t you worry.”

“Wait,” you moaned, reaching for one of his hands. “I’m scared I’m going to come.”

“And?”

You squeezed his hand to keep from rubbing against his cock. “We are in a full ballroom.”

“No, we’re not.”

Cool air brushed your neck and you opened your eyes, finding yourself in a dimly lit garden.

“I have you.” Kai’s arm was wrapped around your shoulder, holding you as you leaned against him on a quaint wooden bench.

You could see the party through the big windows of the castle, bustling with lights and laughter. Out here, it was quiet and private, but still within view of anybody who stepped out onto the balcony.

Any onlookers would only see a man trying to comfort a poor woman.

You steadied your breathing, a little bit disappointed but at the same time relieved. “When did we come out here?”

He rubbed your flushed skin with his thumb. “When I couldn’t hide my hard-on anymore.”

“Oh...” You looked down and blushed at the sight of his length straining against his white pants. “I’m sorry about that.”

He barked out a laughed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m not the one who was two seconds away from an orgasm.”

You clutched your fan. “Is it too late?”

He cocked a brow and you jumped in your seat as you felt something prodding your core.

“Oh!”

He pulled you in, letting you rest on his shoulder. “It’s never too late,” he murmured. “Are you ready?”

You raised your hip onto your side as if giving him more entrance though you knew he didn’t need it. Your panted against his neck as you felt his cock stretch your lips wide.

“That’s it, my love. Take all of me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as his fingers dug into your side. “Fuck, you are so hot and tight.”

You moaned and opened your legs farther apart. “I need your tongue.”

“Where? Tell me.”

You clutched his golden sash in your hands as he pushed inside you a little more. “Everywhere.”

And suddenly you understood the beauty of a hundred tongues on your body.

You sank your teeth into his uniform to muffle your scream as tongues flicked your little nub, helping you open up wide enough to take his hard length all the way down to its base. And the ridges. Oh, the ridges. You felt them as they entered you but you felt them more as he withdrew, pulling back just enough so he could surge back into you.

“Kai!” you cried out against his lapel as you felt the first orgasm hit you. Your body shook with every thrust he made. He made sure to drive all the way to the hilt with every stroke. He ordered the tongues to change up their speed, slowing down and softening the small circles on your clit and nipples.

But he didn’t stop them. “You are so beautiful. I want to watch you come apart like this forever.” Tenderly, he kissed your forehead again, a small gesture that was so different from everything else he did to your body.

And you loved it. “Yes, more. More.” You were going to come again. Your pussy was throbbing around him. You kissed his neck, wishing you had the guts to claim him as your own even as you clawed his uniform with need.

“I am yours,” he said, as if hearing your thoughts. “Even if you marry another, I will always be yours.”

You pulled back but the orgasm hit you before you could correct him. You squirmed in your seat, feeling juices pool out beneath you, as you stifled your cries in your hands.

“Stop,” you choked out. “Kai, stop.”

In an instant, everything stopped and you slumped against him with a contented sigh. You closed your eyes and drew in deep breaths, trying to organize your thoughts.

“I don’t want to marry another,” you declared.

You felt Kai freeze against you.

“If you would take me as your bride, I would like to be married to you.”

It was a bold confession, but you knew it to be true from the bottom of your heart.

Kai’s voice was serious as he spoke. “This is not just because of my powers, is it?”

“Oh, your powers help,” you said with a happy giggle. You leaned back and took his face in your hands, the way you liked to do whenever you wanted to tell him something important while he was being a jokester. “But I do love you, and I think I always have. You are brave to take a job in a world that is against you, yet you are kind to those that are not your kind. Like me.”

His eyes softened. “Because I love you.”

You kissed him gently on the lips. “See? You are sweet and make my heart flutter. I want to marry you.”

He pulled you in for a fuller kiss, wrapping his hand around your neck and messing up your braid a little. Images of you bent over hay bales with your breeches down to your ankles, ready to take his cock flooded your brain.

You moaned.

More images, this time of you in a wedding dress, riding Kai’s cock to orgasm atop a galloping horse.

Your pussy began to clench again.

When he pulled back, the both of you were breathless. “And I am the luckiest male, demon or otherwise.”

---

HULLO. DID YOU THINK I WOULD WRITE ABOUT A SUCCUBUS AND NOT ABOUT INCUBUS!KAI??? >:) Hope everyone is enjoying their holidays!!!!!! This is my thanks to you for all your love <3 Please know that I see your replies to the stories but I don’t know how to reply to them using my fanfic account and not my main account LOLLL I appreciate each and every one of them!

PS: I also wanted to squeeze one more writing piece into my 2019 list hehehe

PPS: this story was inspired by yet another one of Larissa Ione’s novels :3 I read Passion Unleashed in 2015 and parts of it have stuck with me to this day! The hero is an incubus and the heroine is a human. At one point, he projects himself into her dreams and does dirty things :) And her swallowing his cum makes her uncontrollably aroused. I love amazing ideas from amazing minds *chef’s kiss*

[renaroo]

Super Brothers (1/12)

Disclaimer: Superman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Child Abuse, Gender Dysphoria, PTSD and Anxiety, Character Death Rating: T Synopsis: Jon Kent knew he pretty much had the perfect family life, but something still felt wrong with himself. At the height of feeling like an alien in his own skin, however, his world got turned upside down when his parents took in a troubled child who embodied everything he felt he lacked. However, becoming a brother ended up being the smallest of the trials brought by adopting Christopher Kent. And being best friends with Damian Wayne has not exactly helped keep a neutral perspective on the matter.

A/N: I have made no secret over the last few years just how disappointed i’ve been by the treatment and reintroduction of Chris Kent, aka Lor-Zod, in DC Comics. This little guy is one of my favorite comic book characters in existence, and it feels so dirty to see what has become of him. For a while, I’ve wanted to do a story that really tried to rectify the Rebirth version of Chris and the continuity at large with the core of the character I love, so this story is my attempt at that. I can only hope that I bridge that gap gracefully.

On the other end, I didn’t want to erase Damian or Jon and all the positives I have seen with their relationship and additions to the DCU at large. For their parts in this story, I want to focus on being in the middle school age range, all the confusion that entails, and open a dialogue about issues of gender and acceptance. 

Obviously, these are a lot of heavy topics, and I am certain that despite my intentions, there can and will be things I mess up. My hope is, when that happens, you all can keep an open dialogue with me on the subjects. I want to learn and better myself and my portrayal of the issues. 

That being said, please pay attention to the warnings throughout this fic. I will touch on dark subjects, and I don’t want anyone to read and feel unprepared for the subjects broached, which is part of the reason I chose to make an opening scene that is rather dark and disturbing on some levels. It won’t be ALL dark and uncomfortable, but I want to make this plea now rather than later. 

I hope the story is still worth your read <3 Thank you for your time!

Chapter One: The Cost of Friends

Jon hates this.

At the absolute worst of times, his tiny body reminds him of just how unreliable it is. He can’t count on it, it’s not consistent — it’s not a Superman body no matter how hard he tries to fit it in as one. His limbs are gangly, his bones poke through pale kin, and his messy black hair curls untamed out from around his ears. It’s not good it doesn’t do what he needs it to do.

And at that moment, Jon’s terrified that it’s about to get himself and his best friend killed.

Ordinarily, being half-Kryptonian, Jon would easily burst through chains and bindings without a second thought. And he’s still strong, he tore through the ripe around his waist like it was taffy, but the chains keeping his legs and neck locked to the floor aren’t budging. And Jon’s getting progressively tired.

There’s something strange about this macabre carnival where he and Damian take the center ring. Of course, there is, because it’s Professor Pyg and he’s the stuff of nightmares. But beyond even that, the spotlights on them show with a heavy red glow that is making Jon sluggish and weak.

So weak that he’s less than a circus ring away from Damian and he still can’t get to him.

“Come now, come now, wait your turn,” the grotesque villain squeals in delight toward Jon. “Little Bat has been scheduled for this appointment for such a long time! You must be patient, my little bird. So patient. Everyone has their time with the professor.”

“Superboy!” Damian snarls from where he is tied up, flat and without his utility belt. He’s laying on a gurney that looks far from sanitary and, if Jon didn’t know better, it might even look like Damian is actually concerned. “Focus! Red sunlight radiation shouldn’t dull your brains as much as it does your strength!”

Blinking, Jon looks up to the spotlights again and can see, with what vague telescopic ability he still has, that there is something unusual about the spectrum of light coming from them. “Is that what this is?” he asks, voice small but filled with relief all the same.

“Oh, my, I cannot, must not, pass an opportunity to educate my subjects, inform them of their peril,” Professor Pyg pantomimes his way from the circus ring with Damian toward the center stage with Jon.

Immediately, Jon feels his body stiffen on instinct. He looks warily at the flabby, disgusting pig mask as the rest of the pudgy and unkempt professor makes his way toward Jon. He knows he should be focusing on getting free, but it’s a difficult thing to do when he’s being approached by unmitigated evil and brutality.

He isn’t sure how Damian gets his suit on every night if this is what Gotham patrols are really like.

“It is your body,” Pyg snorts and chortles.

A cold splash washes over Jon. “My body?” he repeats with wide eyes.

“Get away from him, Pyg!” Damian roars, his gurney shaking and rocking with struggle.

“It isn’t right, doesn’t fit on your bones,” Pyg bemoans, jerking out his hip and slithering his own arms around his chest and waist. He sways back and forth on his feet with a sashay of his hips. “It misses the shape of your spirit, the delicate frame of your face. And it’ll only get worse with age.”

Despite himself, Jon feels his struggle slow to a complete stop. His eyes widen as he looks at Pyg. There is a chill that travels from the base of his spine up, standing all his hair on end.

Deep inside of Jon’s chest, muscles tighten and his heart thunders. He feels a shiver move from his core. No oh no oh no oh no. HIs guts churn, his jaw trembles.

“Oh, you feel it, don’t you, that deep deep down,” Pyg continues, approaching. “You’re in the last years of it being passable, of being acceptable. Before your bones grind and the sinews snap into shapes thick and unbecoming of your gentle nature. I see what you are, in that deep deep down, because I am an artist who shapes and molds my subjects out from their souls.”

“You’re a monster,” Jon whispers, his voice giving up halfway through.

Pyg’s eyes shine with something dangerous through the outsides of his mask. He reaches forward and cups Jon’s cheek with his itchy gloved hand. Jon doesn’t even know when he got so close; when he started towering so tall over Jon.

“You’ll be one of my finest Dollotrons,” Pyg promises, rubbing his thumb just under Jon’s eye. “But your clay’s too strong, have to soften you up, get you nice and fleshy, then I’ll shave and I’ll cut and I’ll shape you right up.”

It doesn’t come off as a promise, so much as it does a threat, one that terrifies and unsettles Jon deep down within himself.

Jon’s mind draws a blank, his eyes wide and unfocused and he attempts, desperately, to come up with some intelligent response. But he can’t, not while a fear racks his every nerve and turns his muscles to stone.

It takes Jon completely and utterly by surprise when a familiar whoosh in the air flies overhead before glass crashes and electricity sparks. He catches a glance at the familiar shape of a Batarang lodged into the spotlight directly overhead.

He’s instantly overcome with relief.

Pyg releases his cheek and steps back wildly, looking around. “No! Not now! My art is not ready!” he cries out before letting loose some piglike squeals and sobs.

Looking toward Damian, Jon expects to see his friend released but is surprised to see Damian still trapped. He squints, uncertain of what’s happening when a second then third Batarang plunge into the remaining red sun spotlights.

“Batman?” Jon wonders out loud.

“Ugh,” Damian lets out in frustration before struggling with even more force against his bindings. “Overdramatic, sanctimonious, can’t believe—“

Dollotrons are racing onto the tent floor while Professor Pyg whines and bemoans his ultimate fate, but as the lights extinguish one by one, the shadows take on a new form.

She moves like a dancer, each step and hit against the army of zombified victims perfectly paced and timed. She is all in black, save for her golden accents and bat, and she spares not a single motion. A kick becomes a launch for a leap becomes a smack becomes a twirl becomes a fist to the face of the blubbering Professor. And each and every movement grows in its momentum.

Jon has never seen anything like this outside of super speed, and he certainly hasn’t seen it using the shapes and silhouettes of the shadows like a comforting show curtain. He has so many questions and so many concerns that he forgets himself and getting free. Even if he could, with his body still unresponsively slow and dulled from the radiation.

Damian, at the least, is in motion, finally getting one of his hands free and using the points of his gauntlet to slice through the leather of the other bindings. He is muttering to himself, annoyed and embarrassed based on the flush in his cheeks. It’s not a rare sight but it is unusual for Jon to see Damian this way around one of his multitudes of siblings.

The shadowy bat launches into a final attack, knocking out the last of the Dollotrons before pouncing on the escaping Professor Pyg like a hungry lioness.

With her full weight on Pyg, the Bat narrows her eyes and for the first time can really be seen by Jon as she reaches over and yanks Pyg’s disgusting mask off of his face. Her lips curl in displeasure, but it doesn’t take away from her fair features or the delicate, smooth control she has over her body.

“Wow,” Jon hears himself say as Damian reaches his side and begins pulling out a small blowtorch for the chains. “Is that your sister?”

“SHH!” Damian hisses.

Jon strains to listen to whatever is being said between the Bat and Pyg, but it gets him nowhere, only words at a time coming in clearly as his powers remain in flux. Regardless, Pyg is squirming and blubbering too much for it to matter anyway.

“Took her damn time,” Damian snarls, letting Jon lean on him as he glares toward his sister.

“She saved our lives,” Jon reminds him.

Damian’s nose curls. “Tt, debatable.”

Cassandra apparently finishes whatever minor conversation she was having with Pyg and flips him over, handcuffing him swiftly. She’s powerful and strong without losing her leanness or size, it mesmerizes Jon in a way. By the time she looks up at them, her expression has completely changed.

“You okay?” she asks them both.

“No thanks to you,” Damian says at the same time Jon gets out, “All thanks to you!”

Something approximating a smile crosses her face before she gets to her feet and reaches up to her ear. “Oracle. Done.”

Looking at Cassandra, Jon feels like he’s found yet another new hero. “Whoa, your sister’s awesome. And cool. And so in control,” Jon tells Damian, his strength returning. “You’ve got so many siblings, can I have your sister?”

“Father would be displeased, otherwise I’d say yes,” Damian huffs in that way that Jon cannot tell, for the life of him, if it’s sarcasm or not.

***

Damian watches as his friend flies off.

It took the better part of an hour as well as a stop at Big Belly Burger for Jon to feel up to the task, but the half-Kryptonian flies home after departing from them and Damian watches him go.

Cassandra, as it turns out, is also there. She leans back against her motorcycle — a sleek but redundant design, like any of the numerous other bat-themed motorcycles or vehicles any of their extended family has access to — and watches Damian more than Jon.

They haven’t had much time with just the two of them. Their paths rarely intersect. And Damian is pretty sure he prefers it that way.

His cheeks are still on fire from the embarrassment of being rescued by her.

“I would have gotten out,” he informs her, crossing his arms. “Pyg was distracted and far away from me. I was working on my restraints.”

She tilts her head at him, a frown tight on her face. “Distracted you, too,” she points out.

And Damian knows she’s right about that, he was distracted. Just the look on his friend’s face, the growing horror and dread. Jon isn’t used to the types of villains that Gotham can throw at people, the psychological toll it takes. Damian is, or at least he likes to think he is, but Jon still can be scared and surprised.

But what looks crossed Jon’s face at that moment were unexpected even to Damian. He had never seen anything like it. Jon had been soaking up every word and phrase like it had been ripped straight from his dreams.

It was enough that it frightened Damian for his friend, and he didn’t even know why.

Over the course of an hour and a Big Belly Burger, Jon had refrained from mentioning a single thing about it.

That, too, was very unlike Jon.

Such things could be dwelled on at another time, though. Damian had the pressing matter at hand of his own reckoning. And his so-called sister.

Without looking up to meet Cassandra’s gaze, Damian kicked at the ground. “What are you going to tell father about tonight?” he asks.

“Truth,” Cass answers unhelpfully.

Gritting his teeth, Damian looks back at her, eyes narrowed and angry. “That’s not fair, you know,” he growls at her. “You never come around, never work with any of the rest of us, and then you pop in and judge us from on high. No wonder father speaks highly of you. You’re just like him.”

Her brows come together in a way that wrinkles her forehead. It’s hard to read her expression, even with her modified mask and hood. “I’m not,” she says. Her words sound final, but she apparently thinks better of them and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Judging you. I’m not.”

Damian looks her over. She hasn’t moved from her bike but her arms have dropped to her side. She is looking at him rather intently and it makes him want to squirm in his combat boots.

“Tt, sure you’re not,” he finally snaps back. “You’ll still tell father that I was captured by Professor Pyg.”

“Yes,” she said too casually.

“And that I let Superboy get captured, too,” Damian glowered more at that one, his eyes rest on the asphalt beneath his feet. He kicked again.

Cassandra paused slightly longer with that one.

When her hand snaked its way onto his shoulder, Damian flinched bodily. He slapped her hand away and twisted around to get away on instinct. He hated that — no one should be able to sneak up on him. He was trained by League of Assassins, he had been prepared since before he could speak to be on guard.

But Cassandra had, too.

She looked at him passively. “Not your fault, happens,” she said, in reference to Pyg.

“That’s not what father will think,” Damian snaps.

“I’ll tell him,” she promises.

Damian stares at her for a moment, sizing her up and considering all the ways he could make her more respectful to him. But it fizzles out quickly. He knows, as much as he resists the thought, that he isn’t upset with her.

He’s upset with himself.

“In the League, they trained us that there is a cost to every relationship formed,” Damian informs Cassandra like she doesn’t intuitively know from her own history. “Partnerships, even necessary ones, would cost you heavily. They could be deadly. And more relationships than strictly necessary should be avoided. All this family and friendship that is just around me all the time now. I don’t want to pay the cost for them.” He looks to the skies where Jon once flew. “I don’t want my friend to pay for them either. It’s not worth it.”

Cassandra stays quiet, but she places her hand on Damian’s shoulder again. He doesn’t attempt to knock it off this time.

“Sometimes it is,” she tells him.

But Damian isn’t so sure. Especially not hearing it from her. Cassandra does not work with others to the same degree as the rest of their family. She doesn’t go to school. She doesn’t join teams outside of father’s pet projects. She doesn’t operate in a daily partnership like Damian has with Grayson or father.

She seems to be living by those lonesome standards that the League taught Damian. And all anyone can do is praise her.

What sort of lesson is Damian supposed to learn from that?

***

Jekuul feels oppressively hot outside of the crystal palace.

Lor has watched his parents stand, looming in the skies, over the land’s natives as they constructed the palace for them. He watched as their eyes glowed threateningly each time the native population faltered, and he remembered how easily their bones cracked and snapped when corrected by the general and his lieutenant. It was equal parts thrilling and terrifying to witness.

Inside the palace, things are smooth and temperature regulated. The pantries are stocked with foods far greater than anything Lor had tasted within the Phantom Zone, but still foreign and sometimes unexpected.

If he questions what was on his plate, he is quickly reprimanded.

So he doesn’t ask.

It should be easy, if not simple, to follow the rules at this point. Stay in the palace, eat when told without questions, listen to his lessons from the Sunstones without fault.

He is the Last Son of Krypton, and he is supposed to inherit everything the universe owed them for their lost greatest civilization. All he has to do is stay in place, not ask questions, don’t be, don’t move.

But he was not born on Krypton, nor was he born on Jekuul — New Krypton, by his father’s declaration — he was born in the perilous depths of the Phantom Zone. A prison.

Inside of the Phantom Zone, there was no movement, there were no questions, there was not being or doing or screaming or aging — that had been the only thing he’d ever existed and it was torturous.

Outside of the Phantom Zone, he thought, things are supposed to be different. He is supposed to move and change and grow, he thinks.

So even though there is every reason not to leave the palace, Lor-Zod leaves in the oppressive heat and feels the sun against his Kryptonian skin as he flies under the two yellow suns.

As he moves across the lands, the violet skinned natives of Jekuul fall to their knees and avert their eyes. They whisper and whimper in a tongue completely foreign to Lor-Zod and it feels, well. It feels good.

Lor-Zod knows that they react this way to his parents, but to have even adults of the alien race fall in reverence to him, he feels more powerful. He feels like the Last Son of Krypton that his father insists he is.

He wonders, vaguely, if it is something his father would like to see.

Deep down, Lor hopes so. Because it is easy for Lor to imagine what his father would think or say when he doesn’t like something Lor has done. He has no concept of what would happen when he makes his father pleased.

He is nearly at the end of the primitive village when Lor’s eyes fall on an unusual sight.

One of the Jekuul natives, a young female no older than Lor and having not yet earned her yellow stripes, stands and stares up at Lor. She doesn’t drop to her knees or avert her eyes.

For a few seconds, Lor continues flying, arching his head back to watch for the girl to finally do as she is supposed to but she never does.

Aggravated and surprised, Lor turns in his flight path and descends, landing promptly in front of the girl.

“Why aren’t you kneeling?” he asks before his feet are even secure.

She stares at him, head tilting. Her black eyes are large and reflective, Lor can see himself in them.

He huffs at her, crossing his arms like he has seen his father do so many times before. “Don’t you speak Kryptonian?” he sneers.

After a quiet moment, she scratches at her head and looks around. That seems to answer Lor’s question for him.

“You’re supposed to kneel,” he groans. “Look, like this,” he says, bowing down to one knee and lowering his head. He’s seen so many others do it before.

Then he hears laughter.

Lor looks up and sees the girl covering her mouth as she giggles before she gets down on both her knees and dips her body down in a silly, teetering display. A mockery. Then she gets back to her feet.

“No!” Lor snaps, getting back to his own feet and grabbing her shoulders.

At first, she stiffens, surprised, and looks at him wildly. Her hands grip onto his wrists and she seems afraid.

“Like this,” Lor repeats, then pushes down on her. He dips with her, down to the ground on their knees. But when they both lower their heads, they immediately smack foreheads.

It feels like nothing to Lor, but for the girl, she jolts back and begins rubbing at her skull.

Instinctively, just like he follows his parents’ motions, Lor reaches up and rubs at his own head. They stare at each other as they both sit there on their knees, rubbing their heads.

Then, despite himself, Lor giggles.

The girl giggles.

They both giggle.

Once the giggles subside, they are both sitting on their knees in the dirt and staring at each other expectantly. They don’t speak the same language. They aren’t remotely the same and, yet, Lor has never felt more of a need to communicate with someone in his life.

He points at his chest, at the house emblem emblazoned on his armor. “Zod,” he tells her. “Zod,” he repeats.

For a moment, the girl is quiet, absorbing his words, then she points at her chest and the purple skin. “Jekuul,” she says.

“No, not what you are,” he mutters, catching on quickly. “I’m not…” He is a Zod, though. Maybe more than he is a Kryptonian, if only in his own mind. He sucks in a breath and tries again. He points at his face. “Lor,” he tells her.

Understanding fills her expression and she points at her own face. “Ti’ahl.”

And, maybe for the first time, Lor feels a wide smile cross his face.

From that moment on, their afternoon is filled with delight.

Ti’ahl points at every structure, every creature, every plant with words and phrases that will not stop saying until Lor repeats. Repeatedly, Lor picks Ti’ahl up easily, flies her from location to location, lifts up every boulder and animal they come across as she claps in delight.

It’s thrilling — and Lor laughs more than he has ever laughed before in his life.

By the time the second sun begins to set, a chill quickly crosses the lands, and Lor can see Ti’ahl gain a shiver. It makes Lor feel bad to see Ti’ahl uncomfortable in any way.

“Hold on,” he calls to her at one point, slowing her run through the grass. He reaches up and carefully unclips his cape from his armor. Grinning, he floats toward Ti’ahl and drapes her with the heavy fabric.

After Lor ties the cape closed over her neck, Ti’ahl looks down and touches the knot. A funny look crosses her face and she looks at Lor.

Ti’ahl leaps onto a nearby rock, standing tall and crossing her arms. “ZOD!” she declares herself.

Realizing what is happening, Lor giggles and drops obediently to his knees. “I kneel!” he laughs.

At first, Ti’ahl joins his laughter, but then she becomes strangely quiet.

Confused, Lor looks up at her. “Ti’ahl?” he asks before realizing that a shadow has crossed over them both.

Heart sinking, Lor twists around and sees his father, arms crossed, standing over them both. He looks displeased.

“Father,” Lor gets out, voice thin.

“Is this how I find the Last Son of Krypton? Kneeling before his lessers?” the general snarls. He drops his hands to his sides as Lor begins to stand up and easily kicks Lor back down. “If you lower yourself in the dirt for a mongrel child, you will stay there for your leader, do you understand?”

Breath catching in his throat, Lor nods. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“To the palace. Immediately,” General Zod orders, his gaze carrying over to Ti’ahl. “There will be a price to pay for this, Lor-Zod. Let us see if you are grown enough to pay it.”

Lor cannot bring himself to look at Ti’ahl as he leaps to his feet and takes off in the air. His blood is rushing to his ears, tears building up in his eyes even before he reaches his top speeds of flight.

It isn’t until he was home that he realized he had left his cape.

[tysonrunningfox]

Toothless: Return to the Black Pony of Second Chances: Part 5

This is long and he is a brat, ok? 

Ao3 

“Ok,” I heave the last shovel of horse poop from the black horse’s area and lean on my pitchfork, barely resisting the urge to plug my nose with my hand, as my hand has recently been in contact with said horse poop. 

The black horse isn’t nice, exactly, but not quite skittish either, and largely my only two problems with it—him—are the leash he allows Astrid to have around my time and maybe also neck if she asked for it and the amount he poops.  Like, maybe he should cut back on the fiber.  A little more cheese, possibly.

“Ok what?”  Astrid closes the stall door at the other end of the barn with her foot, chucking a pitchfork of horse shit into a wheelbarrow. 

It’s been less than 24 hours in Wyoming, and I recognize horse shit. 

This is great.  This is all going so great. 

“Ok, his room is clean.” 

“Room?”  She raises an eyebrow, the same unimpressed expression I got last night when I had no idea what a ‘flake’ of hay was.  The only flakes I’ve ever seen are corn flakes, and as they’re usually non-GMO and therefore pad Monsanto’s bottomless pockets with bovine diabetes, I haven’t seen them in years.

“Stable.”  I shrug, “stall, whatever fancy horse word it is.  I don’t know why it matters.” 

“There are four more stalls on your side,” she gestures with her shoulder, picking up the full wheelbarrow handles and moving before I can protest. 

So, I jog up next to her to protest, work-loosened shoes slipping over my heels. 

“My side?”  I shiver when we’re outside, the early morning sun doing about as little to cut the chill as my hoodie is, “last time I checked, my horse is on the end—”

“I told you that you would help me muck stalls,” she grunts as she heaves the wheelbarrow into a lovely pile of horse shit in a brown and putrid monotone rainbow of stages. 

“I did,” I point at my dirty pants with my dirty hand. 

“I did five, you did one.”  She reminds me, like I could have forgotten in the last minute, and I wonder if flinching in the wind is making me look like I’m having a stroke. 

“Yeah.” 

“So, you think I should go do nine of them?”  She cocks her hip, and I don’t understand how she has the energy to be this hostile this early.  When she knocked on my bedroom door this morning, I thought she must have been a very polite burglar warning me that they were taking one of my dad’s absolutely lovely recliners off of my hands so that I could thank them. 

But no, when I opened my bedroom door it was just Astrid, arms crossed and looking down at my pajamas like I’d already disappointed her, asking why I wasn’t dressed yet. 

And then she made me instant coffee, like she was doing me a favor, when I probably would have preferred horse shit tea. 

The wind shifts and I catch a whiff of the pile. 

Nope.  That’s an exaggeration, but from the way the shitty, acrid coffee churns in my empty stomach, it’s not much of one. 

“I didn’t say that,” I hold my hand out for one of the pills that I know is in her pocket, “I just need my horse’s medicine.” 

“Yeah, and I said I’d give it to you after you helped muck out the stable.” 

“Stable or stall, which is it?”  I roll my eyes, “the lack of consistency really isn’t making me feel much trust in your management style.” 

That gets her, a little flicker in those bright blue eyes, a tense in her jaw that makes me think twice about angering her into headbutting me, because I don’t think it’d be fun.  

“You can have the medicine when you muck out the other four stalls, of the five in your half, which constitutes half the stable.”  She talks about horse rooms like they’re engine compartments and I feel like a coolant leak, shoving steam out and making her pull over on the way to something important. 

Not that there’s anything important out here.  There hasn’t been anything important since someone brought a store-bought pie to church, or something.  And that was probably a year ago. 

“But I already did my horse’s stall.” 

My horse already feels steadier than ‘my room’ or ‘my house’ or ‘my dad’, and I don’t know why.  Maybe because the horse is the only one here to not actively reject me, like the twin bed that’s now too short or the crooked floorboard I tripped over. 

“Yeah, and there are four more.” 

“Why do I care about the other four?”  As soon as I say it, I wish I hadn’t gotten so used to the progressive, ‘spare the rod to spoil the child and save the world’ schools that my mom has sent me to, because this is like being spanked with the feelings stick by a hormonally confusing drill sergeant in the lobby to military school. 

“Because your horse,” she implies ‘and by extension you’ by jabbing me in the arm with a pointed finger, “costs money and time and space, and since no one else can get close to him, for some reason.”  The jealousy is like a fresh americano from the fair trade café down the street from my old apartment, “so you have to pull the weight.” 

“Can a horse really weigh four surplus stalls of horse shit?” 

“Come tell me when you’re done, and I’ll teach you how to clean out the chicken coop.” 

“You said I could have the medicine after the stalls were mucked,” I must say it right even though I was planning to make another joke, because she just crosses her arms and shrugs that tense shrug at me. 

“He’ll need them again tonight, won’t he?” 

She’s right, but not as a way to get me to listen to her, just as a fact, and I realize once and for all that she’s not someone to out-talk or out-logic.  She won’t give me an inch because I make her laugh, and it’s so my luck that the only concrete proof I’ve had in a decade that my dad really, actually knows me, is that he somehow chose the right person to torture me into some brand of obedience so manually productive that it’s probably anti-union. 

I get back to mucking.

The fact that I am not strong is really Mrs. Razorwhip’s fault for making gym so easy to skip.  In fact, the only time I ever actually had to suffer through the weight room was sneaking through it to the emergency exit with the disabled alarm that let me out into the alley. 

Back home, I would insist that I’m not useless. Not impressive, obviously, there’s not much to look at, but I’ve never struggled lugging groceries up the stairs. 

Then again, four stalls of horse shit weighs more than enough tofu and kale to feed my mom and I for a month. 

“Are you done yet?”  Astrid comes back after some indeterminate, sweaty time and catches me taking a probably forbidden break, petting the black horse’s nose. 

“Ma’am, yes Ma’am.”  I salute. 

She doesn’t appreciate it, and she doesn’t even try to hide the fact, and while I’m used to Heather jokingly calling me an asshole, the direct disappointment is different.  A little bitter.  Like the static emanating out of a missing rewind button in a dusty remote I lost years ago. 

“Have you thought of a name yet?”  She looks at the black horse then at me, taking a reluctant, peace-seeking step towards me, and I get the somewhat familiar feeling that she doesn’t want to be so mean to me, but I just make it easy. 

She hands me his medicine and I guess her hand gets a little too close, because he makes an ear-splitting noise and attempts to bite her through the bars, nostrils flared and red-lined as Hiccup jumps back, fumbling with the oversized pill and barely catching it. 

“Whoa there,” she attempts to comfort, voice low, hands held in front of her. 

The horse gnashes square teeth at her, cry turning painful when he tries to pop onto his back legs. 

“Whoa there.”  I mimic Astrid entirely, stepping towards the stall, heart swelling with something important when he looks at me, breathing hard, gnashing his teeth but no longer crying. 

“Devil maybe,” she suggests under her breath, jealous where she was just half-way decently ok with me, and my mouth has always been a few leaps and bounds ahead of my pre-cognition. 

“Toothless.”  I snort at my own joke and she stares at me like I’m stupid again.  Still stupid.  A fossilized kind of stupid that she or someone she knows probably wants to mine for crude oil.  “Because he never shows them to me.” 

She sighs then points at the wheelbarrow, which is already full again, because I actually did move more horse shit than her and I’ve got the exhausted back and shoulders to prove it, “dump this, then meet me at the chicken coop.” 

The chicken coop is worse than the stalls. 

I’ll never complain about horse shit again, as long as I live.  Or at least until the next time I have to deal with it, more likely. 

Which is the next day. 

And the next. 

The fourth morning in my own private Wyoming, she wakes me up earlier than normal, and I find myself completely unsecured in the back of the old ranch truck alongside giant flakes of hay, staring at Fishlegs as Astrid starts driving through the field. 

For all my dad talks about loving his life and his cows, it really does feel like I’m just pelting them in the face with itchy dried grass that makes me wish I’d borrowed some of the thick gloves from the barn. 

“You can throw them farther than that!”  Astrid calls out the window and I grunt, tossing one as far as I can and turning back to Fishlegs. 

“What is her problem?” 

“What?” 

“I said,” I clear my throat and try and take out the welling anger on another flake of hay, which falls apart in the breeze and ends up mostly in my face.  And mouth.  And hair.  “What is Astrid’s problem?” 

“Well,” he pauses, and he doesn’t get yelled at immediately, of course, “I did hear she failed math.” 

“So, the ghost of unsatisfied Algebra II homework possessed her and turned her soul to pure evil?”  I huff. 

She can probably hear me. 

I don’t care if she hears me, I don’t think.  She can hide a body, probably, and she could skewer me with a pitchfork, but the only thing she resents more than me is Toothless and then she’d be stuck with him, so…

“I would have tutored her, if I wasn’t off at school—”

My glare cuts him off and he starts shoving hay off of the back of the truck again. 

“No, I don’t care about her grades, I—she has it out for me.”  It’s the only explanation.  She’s probably operating under some misconception that my being here will have some impact on her being my dad’s favorite, or something.  Which given how little he’s spoken to me for the last few days, is absolutely not true, and it makes me want to pound on the back window and tell her that she can have him. 

Except my arms hurt.  I don��t think I can ‘pound’ on anything, not in so many words. 

And I bet I’ll have to muck stalls when I get back to the ranch.  Maybe I can have a break if my arm literally falls off.  I wonder if that would make me more or less symmetrical. 

“She doesn’t,” Fishlegs assures me, sweeping the rest of the hay out of the rusted bed with his foot and thumping on the top of the cab before sitting down.  Before I have time to ask why, Astrid speeds up and turns around, almost flinging me out of the bed, and I end up sprawled with a handful of stupid, itchy hay up the back of my shirt, ass throbbing from smacking the bed too hard. 

“What was that then?”  I spit out a piece of hay, finding some in my hair and knowing that this isn’t the time to shower.  Not until she’s done with me.  Or my arm falls off. 

Or maybe she’d just show me how to scoop one handed. 

And it’s barely past dawn. 

“She drives fast.” 

“I can see that.” 

“I’ve heard she’s been driving ranch trucks since she was nine,” he leans forward, barely speaking above the roar of the engine.  “Ever since she could reach the pedals.” 

“I’ve been hot wiring cars ever since I forged a key to the teacher’s lounge,” I mutter under my breath, not competing in a race I can’t win so much as I wish I could shock and awe without my dad calling the cops.  I’m still expecting a scared straight romp for stealing a stupid pack of gum from Gobber, but maybe he figures Astrid will kill me first. 

I do have to muck when I get back. 

Then I get cryptic instructions to ‘hand walk’ Toothless, to which I respond that I probably couldn’t get a very good grip on him with my toes.  Astrid doesn’t laugh, just shoves an old horse-leash into my hand before telling me cryptically that she’ll find me later. 

And that’s my life now.  Living in fear of Astrid finding me, never able to avoid her.  Like I’m running and screaming and looking for a quiet corner to nurse my wounds, but she always finds me, always calm, always stern.  Usually holding something sharp. 

It’s like if Michael Meyers was a really hot teenage girl. 

The twins teach me how to milk their goats one morning, and at first I don’t think it’ll be that bad because at least I get to sit, but somehow, walking a horse around and lifting horse shit also makes my butt hurt.  Who knew. 

Also, the twins don’t shut up. 

“Heard you were asking what’s up with Astrid,” Ruffnut sing-songs during a rare, nearly pleasant pause in the conversation, and I accidentally squirt goat milk at my shoe.  It soaks through.  Which is great.  I understand boots now that I have goat milk between my toes.  Couldn’t have aimed left, that would have been too pleasant. 

“Mostly in a ‘what do I tell the priest?’ way.” 

“She’s single,” Ruffnut raises her eyebrows, “but hasn’t finished high school yet, so the priest talk is probably pretty pre-mature.” 

“What does high school or her relationship status have to do with the exorcism?”  I snort. 

“I’ve heard she can lift like five-hundred pounds,” Tuffnut adds, “and I’ve heard that dirt doesn’t stick to her.  Like she could roll in a pile of dirt, and her very aura would just reject it.” 

“I…don’t think that’s true.”  I almost want to ask Tuffnut what geometric shape he thinks the earth is, but it’ll bug me too much if he’s wrong. 

“She can talk to goats,” Tuffnut continues, “she’s said some very unkind things to Chicken, and Duchess here translated.”  He pats the goat he’s milking on the butt and accidentally squirts more milk at my right foot.  Great. 

Awesome. 

“She likes tall guys.  Not historically, but I can just kind of guess that she would now,” Ruffnut grins, “she doesn’t need as much sleep as anyone else—”

“Because she got bitten by a radioactive spider and became a vigilante but it’s not very useful in a town with no crime,” Tuffnut cuts her off and Ruffnut squirts him with goat’s milk on purpose.  He catches it in his mouth and proceeds to cough. 

“She’s not Spiderman” 

“Then why’d she get that spider out of my room that one time?”  He wheezes, and I’d rather roll in the horse poop mound than be here right now. 

“Because you were screaming.”  Ruffnut grins at me again, and I get the feeling that she thinks I’m here for her entertainment.  I’ve never liked that feeling, honestly.  I don’t like expectation.  I’d rather just force my antics on people and be rejected than never live up to the assumption in someone else’s head. 

And I know for a fact that I could never compete with whatever Ruffnut is coming up with.  More than that, I wouldn’t want to. 

“Plus, I know Peter Parker.  He’s holding the high rise down while I…do this.”  I try and pet the goat I’m milking.  It tries to bite me. 

Toothless is about the only farm animal that is toothless towards me. 

“So you’re asking for rumors about Astrid?”  Ruffnut tries again, and I sigh. 

“No, I’m just…wondering why she’s so…” there are a lot of words I could use.  Bitchy, if I wanted Heather to slap me mentally from thousands of miles away.  Demanding, if I wanted to complain, which I don’t, because it would all obviously get back to her and then my dad.  “Against me, in particular.” 

“She’s not,” Tuffnut sighs, “she’s like this with everyone, always trying to make us work harder, as if some of us haven’t already reached peak potential.”  He squirts at Ruffnut and gets it in her hair before laughing. 

She stands up and splashes the whole bucket she’d managed to collect on his face and my right shoe gets even soggier.  Great.  Fantastic. 

“He’s right, for once,” Ruffnut assures between laughs, tossing the bucket itself at Tuffnut’s head and knocking him off of his stool.  “She just genuinely wakes up every day excited to go do things and chores and she thinks everyone else should too.  It’s bizarre.” 

“You’ve disrespected the Duchess,” Tuffnut stands up, prepared to tackle his sister and I leave before it can get any worse, for once sure that I won’t get the blame for things not going perfectly. 

There are an old pair of boots in the hall closet that fit me with a thick pair of socks and when I start wearing them, my dad looks almost proud.  That makes it worse, but I can’t tell him that I’m not trying to fit in, because Toothless needs another round of antibiotics, and when he asks Astrid how I’ve been doing, she shrugs in some kind of silent acceptance that seems like it’s in my dad’s language more than mine. 

I’ve lost count of my days in hostile solitude when I get stuck on my back under a tractor with Snotlout, trying to diagnose an engine that appears to be held together with duct tape and a water bottle full of amber liquid I don’t recognize. 

“Well, I think I see the problem,” I point at the bottle and he snorts. 

“That connects the thingamajig to the thing,” he points at what I believe to be the oil pan, “I fixed it last year, it’s fine.” 

“It’s a water bottle.” 

“So, I heard you’ve been asking about Astrid,” he gloats, and I hate that I’ve been mucking Hookfang’s stall and more than that, I hate that Hookfang is kind of nice, in a begging dog way. 

“Does she know that the tractor is held together with floss and paperclips?”  I scoot away from him, feeling bare dirt through my too thin jeans, back and side sore from the morning in the barn.  “Because that seems like the kind of lack of perfection which would make her make me do fifty pushups while chanting some mantra about getting up before the sun.” 

“I’m kind of the Astrid expert, ask me anything.”  He reaches up and wraps a new length of duct tape around a leaking pipe and I wince. 

“Alright, why does Tuffnut think she’s Spiderman?” 

“He’s an idiot.” 

“That does not take an Astrid expert to answer,” I roll out from under the tractor, sure that it’s above my paygrade, which is zero. 

Actually, it’s less than zero, given that I’m working for horse medicine that isn’t even possible for me to have fun with.  I’m an indentured servant working on behalf of a horse, next to an idiot who tapes tractors together like he’ll be opening an exhibit of redneck macaroni art called “John Deere, an American Journey” at the tri-county community center soon. 

“Ok, ok, I’ll tell you a secret.”  Snotlout is easy to read.  He’s a ransom note of a man, put together from the Cheyenne Gazette, Laramie Chronicle, and Bum-Fuck Nowhere Times, then laminated with some deep-seated fear that I don’t believe his swagger.  Which I don’t. 

“Please, don’t enlighten me.” 

“Astrid looks like she’s what? A B-cup?”  He says with a straight face and I let myself imagine telling Astrid this, because while I don’t want her to headbutt me, Snotlout might be satisfying, “but you’d be wrong.  C-cup.  All the way.” 

“No shit.”  I deadpan, “I’m sure this tractor is in your capable hands so I’m just going to go…not here.” 

“I know from when we dated.” 

“Right.”  I stand up, “I’m…bye.  Maybe I’ll go clean the chicken coop, because it’s disgusting, and you won’t follow me.” 

I don’t though.  I go talk to Toothless.  I smooth a brush over his fur the way I’ve seen Astrid do to Stormfly, carefully avoiding the nearly healed slash in his back leg.  I tell him about fire escapes and self-destination and if it weren’t for Astrid finding me before dinner, I’d probably miss it. 

I almost tell her what Snotlout said, just to watch the carnage, but I really don’t want to be stuck dealing with that tractor. 

00000

It takes an hour and some not so dignified groveling to Fishlegs to convince my father that Skype isn’t going to give his barely half a tier above dial-up internet a virus.  It takes two additional days to actually set a time with Heather because her social life has apparently boomed without me and because Astrid hid my phone yesterday until I finished cleaning out the chicken coop.  

Because beneath her irritatingly beautiful exterior, she’s the reincarnation of a knuckle slapping nun who hates left-handedness and the suggestion of fun.  

But almost two weeks since I left New York, I’m oh-so-generously given an hour off stall mucking duty before dinner by Commander in Chief Hofferson, and Heather’s brother took her fake ID, apparently, so I sit down at the tiny desk sized for my eight year old self and turn on my laptop for the first time since I’ve been here.  It’s a little strange, how much has changed in the last two weeks, the dirt from Toothless’s fur caked under my fingernails, the sunburned skin tight across the bridge of my nose.  Back home I used to never be outside enough to really get a tan.  It was always muggy and Mom had it so ingrained that the smell wasn’t the river, it was slaughterhouse runoff up-river, that hanging around outside never really seemed appetizing.  Here though, it’s cold until almost lunch and by then I’m pink almost to peeling even while I’m still shivering.  

The internet takes three limping tries to connect.  My dad’s password is Haddock.  No numerals, just his last name.  If that’s a Wyoming benchmark, I wonder how hard it would be to break into that tiny, old-fashioned-shootout looking bank in town to steal the price of a plane ticket home.  I’ll ask Heather today if I could sleep under her bed.  

I call her on Skype once the internet seems somewhat, tenuously solid, and she picks up almost immediately, the eyeliner smudged under her eyes exacerbating the graininess of the image somehow.  She doesn’t look like she’s been sleeping much and she adjusts her screen, the window blurring as my connection flickers.  

“Oh my god, this is so 2009,” she laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear.  “Is that the lighting? Or…oh my god, are you tan?  That’s ridiculous.”  

“It’s the lighting, I’m definitely sunburned,” I laugh, glancing at myself in the small front facing window.  If it’s possible, I’ve lost weight since I’ve been here, all the stupid, draining manual labor, and my cheeks look as hollow as my plan to hitchhike back to New York without being caught or murdered.  Or caught and murdered.  

My dad would probably let Astrid do the honors.  

“I didn’t realize there was sun in Wyoming.”  

“As it’s on the planet Earth, it does occasionally experience direct sunlight, especially because I can currently see the only two trees in about a fifty-mile radius from my window right now.”  

She laughs and I almost wish we hadn’t done this, because the pang in my chest is so distinctly homesickness.  I hadn’t felt homesick before now, not really.  Grumpy, sure, belligerent, always.  Stubborn?  All the time.  But now I’m stuck on the way it used to sound when Heather’s laugh wasn’t filtered through two shitty speakers and she was sneaking in my window at 2 in the morning because her brother let some new crazy come in.  

“Well, I solved global warming then, we just need to stop the sun from hitting places that don’t have trees or people.”  She taps her temple with a dark polished finger, “why doesn’t anyone listen to me?”  

“I really don’t know, all your ideas are so practical.”  

“And I thought I missed you,” she scoffs, something treacherously close to a genuine expression tugging at the corners of her mouth, and even while webcams make me look yellow and scrawnier than normal, Heather looks great in all her smudged makeup, forcefully edgy glory.  “I’m going to hang up, let you die in my mind as a happy memory.”  

“Like that would convince anyone.”  I laugh.  She laughs.  The bad connection whispers static and she bites her lip.  

I don’t know how to tell her about Toothless.  

I hadn’t thought about it.  I hadn’t thought that I’d want to tell her about anything here because she’s separate, a relic reminding me of all the reasons I have to get back but now there’s a reason I almost want to stay and I’m not sure if it’s stronger than the brunt of Heather’s sheer, practiced cynicism.  

“Things are boring here without you,” she rolls her eyes, holding long bangs in front of her eyes and checking for split ends, “Dagur’s on some new parenting kick because your mom had some scary conversation with him.  I should get her a cat or something so she has someone to boss around that isn’t me.”  

“What’d you do to make her talk to your brother?”  

“It’s funny, because your mom used to be the one talking about how play based kindergartens in Scandanavia are so much better than the homework geared education system here, but if anyone tries to stay in your old room to protest the frankly ridiculous workload in an American high school, suddenly it’s cause for alarm.”  

“Have you thought any more about law school? Because that’s quite the argument.”  

“Right, because any individuality can be crammed into the stuffiest of stuffed shirt professions.”  

“I mean, not the stuffiest, there’s a scarecrow in the pumpkin patch that has more stuffing in his shirt than any lawyer I’ve ever met.”  

“You just haven’t been around enough lawyers.  Because you’ve been spending too much time at the pumpkin patch, apparently.”  

“It’s on the way to the…” I pause before saying ‘barn’ because barn feels like it means something more than it does.  Like yes, a structure that houses animals, commonly cows or horses but also…somewhere I’ve been spending a lot of time.  Somewhere I don’t hate quite as much as Heather hates everywhere.  “The house, back from the chicken coop, where I get to spend my early mornings scraping chicken shit off of the dirt.”  

“Ah, the charming calm of pastoral life,” she rests her cheek on her hand and flutters her eyelashes.  I see the corner of some new tattoo creeping onto her wrist but if she hasn’t told me yet I probably shouldn’t ask, and it’s like she’s got her own Toothless.  

I don’t think we’ve ever had secrets.  Not since she dropped into my bedroom eerily silently when I was thirteen and I didn’t have the chance to get my pants back up before she noticed what I was doing.  

There’s a knock on my doorframe and of course I forgot to close the door and of course when I turn around it’s Astrid, because she has an unfortunate sixth sense for when I have an uncomfortable thought in my head.  

“What?”  

She rolls her eyes, “I was just coming to tell you that we got back early so dinner might be early.”  

“Ok.”  I stare at her and she doesn’t leave, “I’m kind of having a conversation here, so could you shut the door on the way out?”  

“You aren’t coming to dinner?”  

“I’ll be down in a bit.”  

She looks me up and down, pausing at my shoulder like she’s trying to see the laptop behind it and I glare at her.  

“Fine,” she reaches for the doorknob, “it’s not my fault if there’s nothing left when you grace us with your presence.”  

“Nothing ever is, Your Great Bossiness,” I mumble as I turn back to the screen, and Astrid might have heard me from the pause before she yanks the door fully shut.  

For a second I think the internet glitched out, because Heather is staring at me with a near constipated expression, but her eyebrow quirks with natural fluidity and I shrug.  

“Are you going to make me ask who that was?”  

“If you ask are you going to make me answer?”  I rub my forehead, “it was just Astrid, my dad’s most favoritest ranch-hand and the bossiest perfectionist I’ve ever met.  As you saw, she cannot stay out of anyone’s business for a second.”  

“So, not a new best friend, then?”  

“God no,” I snort, “I might actually permit your careless use of the word ‘fascist’ in this case.”  

Heather rolls her eyes, the big sort of eye roll she reserves for teachers and her brother when he claims not to know all about the permission slip he obviously signed weeks ago, “did you get an impenetrable coating of country dust in your eye or something?”  

“What?”  

“Are you blind?”  She scoffs, crossing her arms so that I see a few straight delicate lines of the tattoo I don’t know about.  

“Once again, what?”  

“I didn’t realize you’d lost your ability to identify a hot girl, Hiccup, we’ve got to get you home asap, put you through some remedial training.”  

I snort, “Astrid?  Yeah, I mean, I’m not blind, but if she’s hot it’s in the ‘fire and brimstone’, satanic way.”  

Heather’s staring at me like she can get my pulse from the flicker of her screen or something and I sigh.  

“I have a horse.”  

“What?”  She laughs, “what does that have to do with Astrid being hot?  That’s—oh god, Hiccup, I’ll get a psychiatrist note to get you back to civilization asap—”

“No!” I run my hand through my constantly grubby hair, “I—there was a horse when I got here.  He was hurt and cranky and didn’t like any of them so they were going to put him down but he liked me and I gave him his antibiotics a few times and now I guess he’s mine and Astrid’s sure she knows everything—Like she thinks she invented horses, I swear—and…”  I almost do jazz hands and say ‘ta-da’, but I hold that back.  “What’s the new tattoo?”  

I’m not as successful at holding back.  Apparently.  

“Oh,” she holds up her arm, upside down, “it’s that thing we talked about, the constellations?”  She twists her arm and reveals thin black line stylizations of Lyra the harp and a slightly larger Aquila the eagle.  The stars are careful dots of black on blank white skin and she traces her finger up the inside of her elbow, “and after it heals some, because this hurt more than my leg for some reason, I’m going to get the milky way up around here.”  

“Right,” I laugh, “those were the two.”  

“Gosh, back then you weren’t Mr. Cowboy yet and you thought your mom’s friend’s farm upstate was really roughing it.”  

“So did you!”  I shake my head, “you thought there were bears and you kept trying to climb into my sleeping bag.”  

“I was cold!”  She crosses her arms again, “no one told me we’d be sleeping in a tent.  I thought it was a sleeping bag on the living room floor kind of deal.”  

“And you hated it.”  

“If I wanted to go camping, I’d follow the disillusioned youth to backpack across southeast Asia, where I know there are no bears.”  

“Right, only occasionally man-eating tigers, much more manageable.”  

“We’ll just have to bring your horse, they can outrun tigers, right?”  She leans forward, like she’s interested, or trying to be, “they can hold two people, I know they can, my mom used to love ancient western romances.”  

“Well, he can’t hold anyone yet, or maybe he can, I don’t know, he hasn’t yet.   I don’t really know how to train him and he won’t let anyone else close to him so…it’s a learning curve.  It’s not like I can take him apart and see how he works.”  I look at the door, because if Astrid’s going to eavesdrop, this is probably going to be the time, “he’s black.  There’s probably some fancy word for that like there is for everything having to do with horses but it just looks like black to me.  And he’s smaller, I guess he’s like feral or something, and all the horses around here are super fancy quarter horses.”  

“Does he have a name or are you waiting on something fancy for that too?”  

“Toothless,” I snort, “because I’m the only one he doesn’t bite on sight.  It drives Astrid crazy.  She thought she was a bona fide horse whisperer before I came along.”  

“Hmm,” Heather leans forward, like she’s tired, but not like I’m boring her.  The strap of her tank top slips over her shoulder, flirting with where she wants that milky way and I clear my throat.  She cocks her head.  “What?”  

“Your uh, your strap.”  

“It’s two hours later here than it is there, excuse me for being in my grounded pajamas.”  Her smile is too tight to be genuine as she continues and I can’t help but note it’s only 5 here, “and your mom locked your window after the whole skipping school incident.”  

“You said skipping, not protesting.”  

“Whatever,” she shrugs, “skipping is protesting.”  

It’s too quiet.  Heather and I are never this quiet.  We’ve always struggled to whisper.  Something feels wrong about it and I look at the time.  

“I hate to do this but Astrid isn’t kidding, if I don’t get down there soon there’s not going to be any food left in this house.”  

“No one could save you a plate?”  She raises her eyebrow, head tilting to the side as the camera catches the shadow of her collar bone in particularly stark relief.  

“I’d say it’s a fair feast for 20 people split six ways, including my dad.  And then there’s me, scraping at the crumbs.  Mom would kill me, I’m eating steak every night, my carbon footprint is huge without accounting for the gas guzzling farm trucks.”  

“I’ll tell her, she’ll have you home and back on tofu in an instant.”  

“If it were that easy, I’d be back already.”  That feels like a lie, because I know already that I can’t leave Toothless, not now, not like this, but it also feels like something that I need to say.  Like please and thank you and hello and goodbye.  “Anyway though, I gotta go.  But we have to chat again the next time you have a hole in your social schedule and Astrid isn’t flogging me to scrub dirt, or something.”  

“Yeah, go fight for your steak dinner,” she snorts, “and I promise that’s hotter in my head than it sounds.”  

“Yes, remember me like that, gallantly fighting for my dinner, not…sunburned and at an elementary school reject desk.”  

“No promises,” she laughs before waving goodbye and hanging up.  

My stomach grumbles and I shut my laptop, walking downstairs and out onto the porch where everyone’s staring at me just enough to re-energize old school middle school nightmares about going to school naked and legless.  

“Saved you a steak,” Astrid points at the grill glaring at Snotlout like he’d made her argue for it.  

“Thanks,” I put it on a plate along with one of the always hard freezer rolls dad keeps buying even though no one actually likes them and when I turn around, everyone is still staring at me.  “What?”  

“Nothing,” Snotlout shrugs, “just no one would save me food if I held up dinner while talking to my girlfriend.”  

“Heather isn’t my girlfriend, who said she was my girlfriend?”  

Everyone shifts slightly to look at Astrid.  I’m overwhelmingly glad that my dad isn’t here.  

“What?”  She stands, setting her plate on the table, “you were being all cryptic and talking to a girl alone in your room.  It’s not a wild assumption.”  

“It’s sort of wild that you’d relay your assumption to everyone.”  

“Not everyone,” she rolls her eyes, “I didn’t tell your dad.”  

“Didn’t tell me what?”  My dad walks out through the sliding glass door, “oh, and Hiccup, I went ahead and turned the internet back off.”  

“Mr. Haddock, it’s perfectly safe to just leave it on,” Fishlegs starts, and for a second I think ‘thank god, someone partially on my side in all this’, but then he continues, “at U-dub the wireless only goes down a few times a year for maintenance and no one gets any information they shouldn’t—”

“That’s because no one wants it, Fish,” I cut him off, sitting down next to Ruffnut and stabbing the steak with my fork.  I honestly don’t get the big deal.  After a decade of halfway dedicated vegetarianism and occasional vegan adventures, I really don’t get the steak hysteria.  I’d rather have a big mac right now, to be honest.  Something unhealthy that actually tastes like it.  

My phone buzzes and I pull it out to see a text from Heather.  

Heather: Btw, sneaking out, if I don’t contact you in 48 hours, call the police, my brother probably killed me

“See?  It’s totally his girlfriend,” Snotlout grumbles, “look at how focused he is on his phone.”  

“Girlfriend?”  My dad sits down next to Astrid who obediently scoots to make room, “Hiccup can’t possibly have a girlfriend.”  

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.”  

“Well he does and her name is Heather, allegedly,” Tuffnut leans back against the porch railing, “all of this is alleged by others than Hiccup himself, so it’s allegedness remains allegedful.”  

“Heather?  Your kid friend?”  My dad raises his eyebrows, “I didn’t realize she was still around.”  

“Still lives upstairs, still my friend, not my girlfriend, can we be done with this?”  I glare at Astrid, because it is all her fault, anyway.  Her fault for not knowing the meaning of privacy and her fault for telling secrets she has no place in.  

“Yeah, shut up about it everyone,” she waves her fork around like she’s issuing a public decree and I narrow my eyes.  

“I think me asking them to shut up was probably adequate—”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?”  Her jaw flexes, a silent irritation not quite bordering on challenge and my dad clears his throat.  

“Ruffnut, it’s your turn to do the dishes tonight.”  He announces, standing up and grabbing his plate.  

Ruffnut groans, “of course I get stuck in the kitchen the one time something actually happens.”  

“Nothing is happening,” Astrid takes a near vengeful bite of steak before pushing her half-eaten plate towards Tuffnut, who grabs it eagerly as she stands up, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.  5am.  Try to get up yourselves this time.”  

She stalks off and I try to ignore the burning of the back of my neck from Ruffnut staring at me.  I cave, glaring up at her.  

“What?”  

“Not your girlfriend, huh?”  

“Don’t you have dishes to do?”  I look back at my plate, trying to maintain some appetite after the long day I had but it’s all gone.  I shove it to the middle of the table and stand up myself.  

Toothless isn’t busy, at least that’s something I can count on.   

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, JORDAN! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF GADRIEL.

Admin Rosey: Eeeeeee! Jordan you have no idea how much I’m bouncing off the walls because you brought us such an unparalleled Gadriel! I was hoping, with all my heart, that someone would dare to write a character that is full of such unfettered love, and you did it. All the more, you didn’t hold back with the adoration that seems to burrow itself into every single facet of the character. Your para sample was an absolute thrill to read and truly, I couldn’t have asked for someone more capable of delivering the Gadriel we all know and love. Thank you so much for this wonderful application - it had me grinning from ear to ear. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Jordan

Age | 23

Personal Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | I’m not in school or working right now, so I do have quite a bit of free time on my hands. However, I still have real life stuff that crops up occasionally, and I’m currently looking for a job, so  if/when?? (hopefully) that happens I’ll let you guys know! As it stands, I can on average devote a few hours each day to rp’ing, though that might vary depending on the day.  

Timezone | EST

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group?  | I saw Rosey reblog the prerelease advertisement thing and the rest was history. 

Current/Past RP Accounts | https://chandlerrosen.tumblr.com/ 

IN CHARACTER

Character | Gadriel

What drew you to this character? | 

Though there were quite a number of characters I considered applying for at various stages, I kept coming back to Gadriel. Within her character is everything I’m familiar with, and yet nothing that I’ve written before. I study (or studied, technically) early modern literature and art history, with a focus on Catholic theology, so I was initially drawn to Gadriel’s background as a martyred saint. I love her grief, I love the way she grows from it while still carrying it with her. I love her fighting for compassion and pacifism, while still being shrouded by the monstrous aspect of her that has always lingered within. Her love is her driving force, and her vision all encompassing, and for the “greater good,” but she is still so selfish. More on this now!

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? | 

i. beware of false prophets [. . .] ye shall know them by their fruits

The God she loved was not always a benevolent one, but she loved Him nonetheless, the words of the scripture a familiar glaze on her tongue, weaving its way through the air as it settles around her like a warm blanket. These were the words she lived by, and the words she, in another life, died by. But now these words, and the God who fomented them, are obsolete—ash and dust, they swirl around her still, only a faint echo of their former glory. Now, the residents (those who choose to partake in religion) worship the Hundred-Eyed God—instead of fire and brimstone, this new deity promised everlasting serenity. Gadriel, like most residents of Caelum, doesn’t worship the Hundred-Eyed God, but as God’s most devout and loving follower, she is faced with the difficult task of protecting ISOLDE, the All-Seeing Priestess of the faith. Despite her best efforts, Gadriel finds herself liking the mortal, and where once Gadriel would have seen an idolator, she now sees what could turn into a friend. The relationship, however, is tenuous, and Gadriel is very reluctant to let herself become attached to the girl—it didn’t end so well for the last worshipped figure in Gadriel’s life. But more than that, Isolde feels like a punishment, or rather, like she should be a punishment. Sure, it pains Gadriel to watch new rituals when the old ones sit in her bones and on her tongue, aching to be remembered and repeated, but otherwise, her task is, at times, an enjoyable one. So when will the other shoe drop? I’m very interested in seeing how this relationship will develop, and how ESTIENNE will fit into it. The biography mentions that Gadriel would kill to protect ARAEL, presumably she would do the same for Isolde, if only out of obligation (though personal affection may one day be a reason as well). Whether it be Estienne or someone else, how will Gadriel, generally a pacifist, react if Isolde is threatened?

I also think it’s interesting to consider what would happen, not if Isolde is physically threatened, but if her status is somehow threatened, or if someone, say ORIAS or CASSIEL (though there are many others), challenges Isolde (an extension of the Hundred-Eyed God) as someone/something to be worshipped? Zealotry is comfortable for Gadriel, a familiar armor to lace over her chest as she draws her sword, but it has rusted and worn down, a passion without a purpose, without an outlet. I think Gadriel is far from becoming a zealot for the Hundred-Eyed God, and to be honest, I’m not sure it would ever actually happen. However, I can see this going two ways (not necessarily mutually exclusive, either): 

Gadriel develops a love for Isolde similar to the love she felt for God; it would be different, no doubt, but I think part of Gadriel’s worship of God in her mortal life came from, faith yes, but also love and a desire to be loved. Her worship of God was not entirely unselfish, but fervently pious nevertheless. Could Gadriel ever get to the point where she would take up her sword for Isolde, not against imminent danger, but against idolatry? Maybe, maybe not, and if it did, it would be, as I said, much further down the line, and certainly not as strong as the zealotry she exhibited for God, but I do think it’s an important aspect of Gadriel that cannot just be shirked because her God is dead.

Regardless of Isolde and how Gadriel may feel about her, there is still a part of Gadriel, no matter how slowly waning it may be, that fought tooth and nail to worship her God, both as a human and angel. And now, with people cropping up, Orias, Cassiel, Michael, etc. who try to fill that void He left, to be worshipped in their own right, I’m interested in how Gadriel will react. Obviously, Gadriel is not omnipotent, and therefore doesn’t necessarily know the extent to which these various figures have designs on power, on reverence. But throughout the course of the roleplay, I think as their actions reflect their intentions, and as those intentions become clearer, the familiar feeling of zealotry will crop up again, burning inside Gadriel’s bosom as it once had. Perhaps something starts it, perhaps she will see the corruption of mortals, of her fellow angels, even, and she wants to stop it. It’s not something she could do alone, at least not successfully, and depending on where Gadriel is in her development, she might not even care at first. But I still think it would be interesting to explore, and which unlikely alliances she may form to quell the rising of a new, different, idol. 

ii. should intermitted vengeance arm again / His red right hand to plague us?

For every cloud, there is a silver lining, and for every slain deity, a world to be made anew. I don’t think Gadriel has ever been motivated by power, and I don’t think she is now, either. I do think, however, that she believes in a very strong vision of the world, a vision she believed she shared with her God. Of course, without God, Gadriel now has the freedom to reshape her vision, and mold the world into, as the biography states,  “her own vision of beauty.” But that which is beautiful, is also terrible, for beauty without power is vulnerability, a quality Gadriel has shedded like a skin too tight and too itchy to ever be comfortable again. There is an anger inside her, a feeling of righteousness against those she believes have acted unjustly. Namely, MICHAEL and CASSIEL. There are many people she blames for this war, for the death of her beloved God, and Michael’s name is at the top of the list. He clipped her wings, he punished her for her pride (for is hubris not the most base of the tragic flaws?), smearing her face in the dirt of her own folly by naming her the Virtue of Temperance, forcing her to protect a being instrumental to the worship of a new, unfamiliar religion. And still, Gadriel turns the other cheek. To wage outright war against Michael would be foolish, and though Gadriel is privy to foolishness (a lingering effect of her not-so-long-forgotten mortality), she isn’t that foolish. I think the dynamic between Gadriel and Michael is very interesting, and something I’d love to explore. As he hungers for more power, as Gadriel’s resentment of him festers, infecting her life’s blood with boiling wrath, when will Gadriel decide that enough is enough. And who will stand with her? 

Now onto Cassiel. Cassiel’s betrayal of the Cherubim, of Gadriel and her own people (though really, with Gadriel’s part in the war against Michael, I think Gadriel would be put on trial regardless), is another interesting avenue to explore. I mentioned Cassiel above as being a sort of “False Prophet,” and in truth, I think she is the antithesis to Gadriel. Speaking of Cherubim, I think Gadriel and ZADKIEL would actually get along fairly well, as Gadriel is (or at least was) well-liked by her fellow angels, and liked them in return, and I think they have a similar philosophy and moral compass. Would Gadriel and Zadkiel, two angels affected by Cassiel’s actions, end up lighting the spark of retribution against Cassiel? Or will it divide them? Cassiel and Gadriel are two people driven by the notion of beauty, though their definitions couldn’t be further apart. While Cassiel’s vision is of herself, Gadriel sees an eternal peace, filial piety and the burning passion of people who join in communion as one (so really, the concept of the Hundred-Eyed God should be alluring to her, once Gadriel realizes that it aligns with her vision and she could wield it considering Isolde is her charge—I digress). Perhaps Gadriel goes against Cassiel, not necessarily for past indiscretions, but present grievances. 

To create, you must destroy, and from the ashes of the old world will Gadriel’s vision of beauty rise, sheathed in gold with a purity so simple, it can only be considered divine.   

iii. when is a monster not a monster?

The answer, of course, “when you love it.” Gadriel’s connections to Asmodeus, Arael, and Mammon are all thematically concerned with when Gadriel shows her monstrous side, if at all. With ARAEL, Gadriel’s monstrous side is not hidden, because with their level of intimacy, with its purity, Gadriel holds no secrets from Arael. It just rarely (if ever) rears its ugly head. The biography mentions that Gadriel would kill for Arael, and I would like to put that to the test. I don’t know how, or when, but I want Gadriel to become a monster, all for the sake of Arael. She knows of Arael’s grief, but I’m wondering just how much Gadriel knows of Arael’s visits to ABBADON’S domain. If she doesn’t know, then perhaps Gadriel will feel betrayed. Of course, she wouldn’t take it out on Arael, there is very little Arael could do to warrant that sort of emotion from Gadriel, but I do think it would shift their relationship. If Gadriel does know, however, I wonder if Gadriel might try to take it upon herself to help Arael (if it’s unwanted, so much the better), because Gadriel is the picture of self-righteousness.  

ASMODEUS is an interesting case with regard to Gadriel’s monstrous side. She hasn’t quite figured him out, she doesn’t know his sad past, but the glances they share, the stares that betray his longing for something else, someone else, intrigue her. And I think it makes Gadriel feel powerful, this unsaid tension between them, the notion that at any moment, it could all crumble and collapse, that he could, if she so chose. I think she wants to poke and prod at him, maybe from afar at first, and then toy with him, his vulnerability between her teeth, with only gravity (the gravity she is so adept at manipulating) to crush it, or release him from her grasp. Of course, Gadriel is not without compassion, and maybe once she knows Asmodeus’ story, she’ll feel differently. It all depends on what part of Asmodeus she chooses to see: the human, or the demon.

Gadriel’s most monstrous side, her most vindictive and self-righteous, self-satisfying, parts, are shown in her relationship with MAMMON. She spared them, not because she felt pity, not because she cared, or didn’t wish to shed blood, but to show them that she could. She held their life at the end of her blade and laughed when she removed it from his throat. Surely they still harbor bitter feelings towards her, feelings of hatred and resentment, even. In Emma’s app for Mammon, she mentions how she envisions them fighting, even to the death. I fully agree, and am looking forward to their confrontation a lot. Gadriel is, generally, soft, but I want to explore those parts of her that are more monster than divine, more human than angel. 

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation | 

In Gadriel’s mortal life, her driving motivation was her love for God, and her desire to be loved by God. The picture of piety, Gadriel shirked near all else to proclaim her love for God, frustrated when others wouldn’t recognize His great power, his all-encompassing love. Even when she became an angel, she was still driven by this love, but now it was realized, it was reciprocated. And rather than have that be diminished upon conquest, it only grew stronger and more fervent. 

Of course, after the war, after her wings were clipped, Gadriel turned into the dutiful angel, obeying Michael’s orders (much to her chagrin). Now she’s driven by her vision of beauty, of peace everlasting and passion overflowing. Love is still very much part of the equation, and the love she feels for Arael, for Isolde (maybe, eventually), also motivates her. But it’s her love for God, and for his vision, that stoke the fire of ambition in her loins. I think Gadriel is tired of constantly being taken for granted, being walked all over, and is using the new world as an opportunity to turn a page in her own life. To become all that she once sought to, to fulfill all righteousness on earth, and to spread her vision to all those who will listen. 

Character Traits | 

(passionate, loyal, empathetic)

(dogmatic, vengeful, obstinate)

In-Character Para Sample | 

“Brothers, sisters, friends, lend me your ears,” she began, standing in front of her fellow angels, on trial for crimes committed against Michael, committed for God. “I stand on trial today, though I believe myself innocent of all crimes, guilty only of being consumed by love. Perhaps my love was misplaced, my loyalty misguided, but is that so unreasonable? Was that not God’s almighty power—to stir inside those who are lost the guidance to follow His will through His love?” She looked around, eyes imploring as she clutched her chest. The room was bright, the sun almost overbearing and artificial, devoid of everything Heaven held, a false divinity imbuing every corner and crevice. She had been here before. But rather than in a spotless room, she was surrounded by dust and the jeers of Romans who believed her guilty of the same crime she was accused of now: treason.

“You accuse me of treason,” she began again, and the lion’s roar in her ear was so loud, she felt as though it was standing across the room from her, not Michael, “but forgive me, I knew nothing else. If my actions offended, let us rectify the situation, together. Let us venture forth, hand in hand, brothers in arms, angels enshrouded in the divinity that is our right, into this new era. But let us not paint this era with more blood than has already been shed; for is that truly what you want your legacy to entail? Fire and brimstone—would you be any better than the God you have deposed?” She raised her eyebrow, scanning the eyes of the crowd as they shifted uncomfortably. An invisible string lifted Gadriel’s spine—perhaps it was her power of gravity, perhaps newfound confidence at the uncomfortability of the angels who wished her dead.

“And how, dear sister, could we trust you?” Michael asked, unmoved, the pinnacle of strength and composure. 

“This is new territory for both of us, brother. This world has never known God’s absence—but together, and only together, could we bring it into a new Golden Age, an era of rebirth and plenty.” Everyone was silent, pondering her words. This silence was deafening, and the lion roared louder. Her heart began to race as she saw the saliva glint off the lion’s teeth, the blood staining its fur from the last human he shred. 

“You seek to do better than God? Well do better. Ff His picture of compassion was imperfect, perfect it. His vision of mercy unfulfilled, fulfill it.” The words stung her tongue as she spoke them against her God, but perhaps she could give Michael and his legions the chance to be better, if that is what they truly sought. “Violence, retribution. This is not the way, and we both know it.” 

Silence still more. Until finally, Michael made his decision. 

“Very well, you have your amnesty. But Gadriel, this can not go unpunished.” He contemplated further, his hands steepled like a church she once worshipped at, before continuing, “your wings will be clipped, and we will watch you. Very closely.” He nodded, but she could tell this wasn’t his desired outcome. 

“Thank you, Michael, for your compassion. You won’t regret it,” she said through gritted teeth, sharp as a lion’s, before she sheathed them. Not now. Not today. Today, she lived, and she will continue to do so, if only to continue God’s work. For so it become us to fulfill all righteousness. 

Extras | 

i. COMPANION: By her side, Gadriel’s companion is a LION. I’m hearkening back to the typological tradition of depicting a martyred saint with the instruments of their demise. St. Lawrence has his grill, St. Catherine of Alexandria her spiked wheel, and so Gadriel will have her lion. 

ii. WINGS: Gadriel’s wings are clipped, but not torn from her back. Right now they don’t extend past her shoulder blades, but at once they were the most radiant, pure, white of the softest down. When they grow back, however, perhaps they will be muddled and murky.

[studiopoprocks]

Secret Santa Christmas Fic!

This is dedicated to my wounderful secret Santa @new-noveltea I hope you enjoy this, and I hope it’s not to late. Let me know if you don’t like it so then I can re write it! It’s pretty rushed. Thank you so much for participating in this with me! And I hope you have a wonderful Christmas❤️

Word count: 4.7k

Ship: Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

You could see the beautiful snow falling outside your window, a sign of what was to come. December 24 Christmas Eve. To many, this night was to celebrate family and togetherness, drinking delicious warm apple cider or hot chocolate while sitting by the beautifully decorated Christmas tree. At least that’s what you have read in books. Although you did have quite a few Christmas trees around the palace, it wasn’t you who got to decorate them. Put in place for the Christmas ball the king and queen put on every year.

“Um excuse me miss.” You turned your attention from the decorated pines outside over to your maid Uraraka, “you’re going to need to change into your dress soon, your majesty.”

You let out a small laugh at her pleasantries, “No one is around, you can drop the ‘miss’” it was hard to miss the sparkle that appeared in the brunettes eyes.

She made a b-line to the rooms walk in closet, excitedly talking about tonight, “Okay, we have to pick out the most extravagant dress you own. People must remember that you were there!” Although you loved your friend, as she practically grew up with you, her words were starting to bug you. Just like your parents, this ball was to kick off you becoming old enough to finally be wed. Now of course you wouldn’t be forced into an arranged marriage, but the pressure was still there.

Somehow while being wrapped up in choosing your evening gown, Ochako had noticed the change in your mood, “What’s wrong hun?” Sometimes she was just too perceptive. However, you knew she really cared about you and wouldn’t let it drop until you told her. “Do you not want to do the plan anymore?” She asked with concern.

“What plan?” Dumbfounded, your interest peaked.

“Didn’t Deku tell you?” She gasped when you shook your head, “of course he didn’t… anyways our Christmas gift to you this year is letting you leave the castle and explore the town on Christmas. We’ve been planning this for months! I can’t believe him!” You could only sit and stare. You had been let out of the castle many times, but never near Christmas as you always have so many duties to attend to.

“Now hurry up, we need you out and about so it doesn’t look suspicious when you-“ Ochaco added air quotes, “retire to your room” you could almost scream you were so excited, but instead settled in giving her the world's biggest hugs.

“Thank you so much! You’re the best friend any princess could ask for!” You shout into her ear. Although you wished you could hug her till the party, it would make putting on a dress rather difficult.

Of course she had chosen the most extravagant one you owned, a cream white dress, one that had so many rhinestones on it, that it looked identical to the freshly fallen snow on the ground. A magnificent dress to say the least, although it did itch a little in the back due to the lace detailing. You would definitely stick out in a gown like this.

“Okay so I’m meeting you where at 10:45?” You questioned.

“No, not me. You’ll be meeting Deku at the doors so he can accompany you to your room.” She explained, as she guided your form to the vanity. “I’ll meet you both there once your parents are informed of your absence. Remember to mention earlier to them that you are feeling tired.”

“Then you’ll tell me how you’re going to get a well known princess into town?” You asked as she started brushing the knots out of your hair, nodding her head at your question. Flinching at a rough knot, you continued to listen to what you would have to do.

The excitement kept bubbling up every few minutes. You were finally going to do it, sneak out on the most wonderful day of the year, and experience a real Christmas. You’re heart felt like it was growing three sizes like the grinch, and it was a delightful feeling. The constant chatter between you and your maid almost made you late for the ball. But hey, it’s called fashionably late for a reason, unless that wasn’t a thing in medieval times…

Thankfully to Ochaco and your parents, you were far from being late. Already waiting for your knight Midoriya to escort you to the ballroom, which you could hear all the way from your chambers. Makeup that made your face feel heavy, hair that if you left too long up, would give you a headache, and a dress that itched in the worst places. However you did look stunning, or at least that’s what Izuku said. So what’s beauty without a tad bit of pain? Plus you’d be in and out of it within 5 hours. Then you would be free.

“Ready to go?” You cheerfully asked your knight as you saw him approaching.

“Always ready m’lady.” You laughed at the last part, no matter how hard you tried, he always had to refer to you as upper class.

“Thank you so much, both of you.” You smiled as you hugged Uraraka before allowing Deku to lead the way. Even though you likely knew more about the castle and how to get around then he did. The ball room wasn’t hard to find, down the hall, turn left, then turn right at the kitchen and keep going until you hit the grand staircase. After that take the closest left hall and it’s just down there. But anyone could find their way if they just listened for the music.

It was beautiful, likely the best band in the village. But they definitely were loud, you could probably use a headache as an excuse if the plan goes astray. But for now, you would have to push those thoughts of escape down, and socialize at the Christmas part of the year.

10:13 pm

The adrenaline was rushing through you as you waited in your chambers. The reality of this whole situation was finally hitting you, and it felt like a brick wall. Yes you were excited to leave the castle, but there were so many what ifs. What if you were caught? What if your parents found out and forced you to marry due to your disobedience? What if- A beautiful red dress snagged your eye. It was simplistic, as there wasn’t any diamonds or other precious gems littering it. It wasn’t even a gown, as it looked as if it only came up to just above the knees. Simplistic yet an elegant design.

Seeing the note Ochaco had left about putting it on, you made fast work of the itchy glitter bomb you were currently wearing. Proving to be a much more difficult task without any maids. Yet you still did it, and thankfully the new red dress was much easier to put on. Along with the addition of some very cute matching black knee high boots to keep you warm.

So there you were standing in your room, waiting for the people who would help you escape for the night. Unbeknownst to you the adventure you were about to begin.

11:27 pm

wrapped up in a cloak, you felt the slight cold nip at your nose as your two best friends opened up the door that led to your freedom. You had traveled all through the catacombs, only getting lost once or twice just to get here. The cold making the small tears in the corners of your eyes become chilled.

“I can’t believe this, this means the world to me, and I’m so thankful to have you both! I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you, but I’ll do my best!” You smiled as you bid your farewell to Izuku and Ochaco, for the next day would be yours to do as you please.

Hugs were exchanged as you made your way towards the village. The darkness and the slow falling snow, giving off an eerie yet mystical experience. Within about three minutes you were in the town square, practically alone, aside from the few people who had stayed up to enjoy the night. There was a swelling feeling in your heart as you looked around at all the lanterns and lights, they rocked in the slight breeze, but their glow was never disturbed. There were beautiful tall pine trees, no inch left uncovered. Fresh bread and peppermint followed you as you made your way around the village.

However lost in your own thoughts and wounder, you had forgotten to watch were you were going, and bumped into someone carrying about three expertly wrapped boxes. The sudden noise they made as they hit the snow covered ground brought you out of your dream like stage, and quickly you bowed your head.

“My apologies! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, it’s just the scenery is so gorgeous that I didn’t realize I was going to bump into someone.” A small chuckle could be heard beneath your bowing form.

“You’re right, it is quite beautiful tonight, but it’s really no biggie, no harm done.” The man smiled up at you as he continued to pick up his boxes. Quickly you sank to your knees, helping with one that had fallen nearer to you. The man looked young, probably somewhere between Izukus and your age. He was handsome, a symmetrical smiling face, framed by spikes red hair, and piercing but soft red eyes. What really drew your attention however was his strangely sharp teeth, and how they looked so harmless as he smiled at you.

With two presents, the man stood up, brushing off the excess snow from his legs. Looking around for the ministry girl he had just met, he realized you were still on the ground looking up at him. He could see the childlike wonder in your eyes, as they sparked around your breathtaking form. Snapping out of it, he offered you his hand. Surprisingly, you placed the last package into it instead. With a slight laugh, he put the presents neatly down and tried to help you up again. This time you finally accepted, and he pulled you up with ease. His strength not unnoticed by you. After brushing off the residual snow, you bowed again.

“Thank you for helping me up.” Standing back up straight to see a curious look in the strangers eyes.

“You’re not from around here are you? Do you need help finding your way back to the castle? I don’t mind-“

“NO!” You rudely cut him off, “I mean… I’m not from around here, but that’s because I wanted to see what the town is like on Christmas.”

The man in front of you could tell something was up, although he wasn’t sure who you were, you didn’t exactly scream threat. You had the same predicament, without much outside knowledge you could be naive and possibly used if the wrong person came around. But whether it was the spirit of Christmas, or some other outside force, the two of you felt no unease from the other. Even so, it was still shocking to hear what he said next.

“Well it’s not Christmas yet, and it’s getting late. If you don’t have a place to stay you’re welcome to come with me, I have a few friends who I’m with at the moment and I’m sure they would understand.” He offered, “Oh! And my name is Kirishima, Eijiro Kirishima.”

You knew it was a dumb idea to follow a stranger you had just met. What if he saw through you, and found out you were the princess, or kidnapped you! Yet the kind offer and smile on his face pushed all those thoughts away. You may have been a princess, but you could handle yourself if it came to it. As long as you kept the knife your guard gave you, your training should let you get enough time to escape.

“I happily accepted Mr. Kirishima! However, I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you my name… for security reasons.” It wasn’t exactly lying, but it didn’t feel good either way.

“I understand.” The smile on his face never once leaving, “also just call be Kirishima, Mr. is was too formal.” You agreed as titles were something you disliked as well. They often felt overpowering, which is why you would ask your staff to never address you as princess, unless you were around company.

“I have to get two more gifts before we leave, Kay?” You nodded, unsure of where he would get them as many of the stores were closed. Nonetheless you followed him through the streets, basking in the Christmas decorations as you passed. Some houses even having snowmen in front, half melted from how warm the past week had been. If only it was that warm now, your hands had always been on the cold side, but they were starting to feel numb. Subconsciously you rubbed them together, bringing them up to place them inside your cloak. Crimson eyes watched your movements, regretting the fact he didn’t bring gloves of his own to lend you.

Instead he decided that he would do the next best thing to warm you up, “You looked cold, and my hands tend to be very warm.” He said as he grabbed your hand, noticing how soft and cute it felt within his own.

“Oh, umm thanks.” You mumbled, a little flustered at the redhead, who’s skin matched his hair. It definitely wasn’t unwelcomed as you could feel your fingers again, plus you couldn’t deny that he was cute.

It was nice walking beside Kirishima. Although the conversation stayed on more trivial things, like what was the best Christmas gift the two of you had gotten, you felt comfortable. Deeper and more personal questions played like a movie in your mind, but it seemed unfair as you couldn’t answer then if he had been the one to ask. So you kept quiet, and continued on with a question about Christmas traditions. That’s what the presents were for, Kirishima did something called a gift exchange with the other members of his group.

“Speaking of gifts, this should be it!” Pointing to a tiny house on the corner, you could make out a small bread symbol in the window. “Sero loves this place!” He smiled as you walked closer to the cute little house. You could smell the fresh pastries and ingredients even before you made it inside. Although it did pack a bigger punch the closer you got to it. Once inside you felt like you were in the gingerbread house from Hansel and Greatel, except the house was made from bread and other starchy foods. Every breath felt like you were eating something new and delicious.

You excused yourself to browse the shelves, as your companion talked to the elderly woman who seemed to own this wonderful place. Donuts to cinnamon buns, to cream puffs, to bagels, to… and that’s when you saw something. Although you never had any big Christmas traditions with your family, there was one thing you always loved from when you were a small child. The store provided little brown bags as to put your sweets in, so picking up a rather large one, you placed the baked good inside.

“Oh you’re buying something?” Kiri asked as you made your way to the front to pay.

“It’s just something I eat every Christmas morning with my family. I usually make it, but seeing as I’m spending Christmas away, I thought I would get it now.” You smiled, still keeping the pastry a secret from the man.

The woman just smiled at your exchange. It was a comforting feeling to see such young kids being respectful and enjoying themselves, “will that be everything dearie?” She asked, snapping the two of you away from each others eyes.

“Oh yes thank you.” You smiled, giving her double of what it cost. Refusing to take it back after the transaction, even though it was hard to say no to such a soft eyed woman.

“My heavens. Thank you so much hun, I hope you and your fiance have a lovely Christmas together.” Surprisingly, neither of you decided to correct the woman on her assumption. The unnoticed glint in her eye showed she knew you two weren’t together, but it would still be fun to joke around a bit. “Merry Christmas! And tell your mother that Ms. Collins says hello.”

the little bell above the door rang as the two of you exited, “Do you know her?” The red head asked.

You shook your head, “no idea, but I would be surprised if she knew who I was.” To any normal person your comment would have seemed weird, but the man beside you just brushed it off and continued to the local book store. You didn’t even know you had one of those in town. Heck you didn’t even know if they actually existed as you tended to read from the royal library, or your personal collection. You thanked your lucky stars that Ochaco told you to bring some money on your excapapaid, because you were about to blow it all on books.

If you have ever seen the part in beauty and the beast where Belle is given the castle library, then you could probably imagine exactly how the little town girl felt, as this was the exact feeling. Although it wasn’t as big as the palaces library, it was comfier and cosier than anywhere you had ever been. There was even a little postal office attached at the right hand corner, which is where Kirishima went as he left you to look around. You skimmed each book, seeing if you had it, and locating your favourites just to see if they had them in stock. Books about daring princes and slaying dragons, about horror and romance.

It was a hard decision whether you liked the bakery or the library more. This small bit of freedom from outside the castle was already some of the most fun you’ve ever had, even though you were starting to get a tad sleepy.

“Ready to go?” You felt a small tap on your shoulder.

“Already?”

“Sorry, but if we want to make it to my camp with enough time to sleep then we better start moving.” You could tell he seemed tired too.

“Alright fine, so how do we get there?” The poor boy visibly tensed at your question, glancing around frantically until his eyes landed on a man out in the street. “Oh hey! Mr. Gum, do you mind letting me buy something from your shop quickly?”

The blond just stared back, taking a second to remember who this random kid yelling at him was, “OH Kiri, how are you? Merry Christmas!” The large man smiled, “and I see you got yourself a partner! Nice to meet you!” He said tuning his attention to you, “I’ve seen you before, don’t you work in the castle?”

“Umm well not exactly…” You definitely recognized the man, he was one of the guards who would sometimes patrol the gardens of the palace, or stay at the walls to fight off any mythical beasts that wanted to kill the royal family. But he retired soon after failing to kill a horrendous dragon, or at least that was what the rumours said.

“Oh well, I figure it out soon enough.” Oh how you wished he wouldn’t, “So what was it that you needed so bad?” He questioned, pulling out the keys to his store.

“One of Mei’s inventions, the feet sword things.” Okay maybe you were hanging out with a crazy person. “Those! I need two.” He said pointing at some sort of shoe with a horizontal sword at the bottom. They looked strange, but the man agreed to it anyways. They did look pretty cool though, but the price was a bit much even for you. You could sense the boy next to you cringe, so in the heat of the Christmas moment, you

Pulled out your coins and paid for the two of them in full.

Kirishima tried stopping you, even asking the man behind the counter to not take your money, but you just simply explained, “think of this as my payment for taking me around the town for the first time in many years.” Smiling as the blond handed Kiri the shoes.

“That’s where I know you from!” He suddenly shouted. You’re smile instantly flipped, as your heart crept its way into your throat. Your eyes held a silent beg, asking the man in front of you to not reveal who you really were.

“You’re the-“ he started but surprisingly you were not the one to cut him off.

“Sorry Mr. Gum but I think I’d rather hear about my companions past and life from her. But thank you for the skates!” He quickly rambled on, grabbing your hand and signaling that you two should probably be leaving.

“Oh I didn’t mean anything like that, I simply meant that she was the little girl who once gave me a flower, long long ago when I wasn’t feeling so cheerful. Trust me, she’s a good one son.” He winked at the boy beside you, laughing as he saw his face reddened. The joking continued as the gentleman ushered the two of you outside and directed you to the frozen river. “Merry Christmas you two!” And with that he left.

It was silent as Kirishima helped you put on the strange sharp shoes, trying his best to figure them out. He had kinda figured out his own, but he insisted on helping you as it was the manly thing to do, but he still had trouble.

“(Y/n)” you whispered. The boy at your feet raised his head, tilting it to the side as if to ask what you had just said.

“It’s my name, I thought I should finally tell you.” You smiled down at him as he tried saying it a few times to commit it to memory. It felt nice to hear him call you by your name, especially since many just addressed you by some sort of title. You felt comfortable, or at least as comfortable as you could be as he stood you up on the frozen ice.

Almost falling forward, a strong pair of arms steadied you. Reaching his hand out to both help the two of you, and to continue to keep your hands warm. But mostly because you needed each other to make it like 2 feet without falling. Honestly, it didn’t take you too long to get your balance, as you’ve had to learn many new things quite quickly as a child. But poor Kiri seemed to be getting worse, especially since he had to carry the presents he had gotten for his friends. It was still pretty cute watching him try his best to stay up, even if he wasn’t very graceful.

“How are you good at this already!?” He asked as you gave him your hand to steady his form.

“I don’t know, but how did you even get to the village, and why didn’t we just take that way?” You questioned. Sadly he stiffened again, becoming ridged and losing his balance. With his hand already interlocked with yours, he pulled you down with him, and basically on top of him. It was a shock, as you stared down at the boy Beneath you in a strange position. “I guess you fell for me.” You started laughing.

“Fell hard is more like it.” He joined in, rubbing his hip that had hit the ice hard. The two of you continued to laugh, Kiri even complaining that he couldn’t breathe. But the boy beneath you stopped suddenly, fear in his eyes as he looked towards the trees on the side. Tilting your head you attempted to follow his gaze, but he quickly turned your attention back to him as he shouted “NO!”

That’s when it lunged. A huge scaly beast with piercing yellow eyes, focused on your figure. Within seconds it was millimeters from your face, yellow electric sparks emitting from the dragons form. Never in your life had you been that scared, and so of course you froze. The wind was knocked out of your lungs, but not because of the beast, but because of the boy who had flipped your positions and placed himself in harm's way instead of you. He glared at the beast, baring his sharp teeth as a warning, and somehow it worked. You could see the yellow beast returning back to the forest, but only in a blurry haze as you felt yourself drifting out of consciousness.

7:07 am

“Hey are you okay” a strange voice was talking to you. It was weird, the only person aloud in your chambers was your maid/friend Ochaco, and unless she had a terrible throat cold.

Slowly you opened your eyes, coming face to face with an attractive redhead, relief flooding his features. He pulled you into a hug, muttering something about being glad you were okay, and that he was worried. You hadn’t realized how cold you were till his body heat started to warm you up. So when he started pulling away, it’s no surprise that you didn’t let him go. But this position remained you of something that happened last night…

“What happened?” You said worried.

“A dragon showed up.” He started blatantly.

“Yes but how, how did you get it to leave us alone! It was huge and terrifying! Dragons could kill you without a second thought.” You explained, subconsciously checking over him for any wounds the beast may have left.

A sad smile crossed his face, “Do you really believe all dragons are merciless killers?”

“Well, I mean that’s like saying all humans are nasty and evil. But I have yet to meet a friendly dragon…” You stop talking noticing how each word made the man in front of you sadder, “but hey, I could be totally wrong! You probably know something that I don’t, and I’ve never had much contact with them besides from last night. But I trust you.” You took a deep breath looking into the red ones across from you, before noticing your bag. The one with your Christmas traditions.

“Let’s get to know each other over some coffee cake.” You smiled as you brought out the treat for the two of you to share. It was calm and you complimented the tree you could see outside of the tent. Decorated with what looked to be homemade ornaments, different colours, sizes and shapes, all holding a special meaning to the ones who made them.

“My name is princess (Y/n) (L/n).” And you explained why you had snuck out of the castle, why you wanted Christmas to be special, and why you valued spending time with Kirishima. “It was a magical night, something nothing could ruin. You’re the first person in my life who hasn’t been paid to be by my side!” You could feel the tears coming to your eyes, and Kiri could see them. Brushing them away, he led you outside his tent.

“Just don’t freak out please.” Now when people say that, your first reaction is usually to freak out. Yet as the man's skin turned into red scales, and his pupils became slits. Two magnificent wings sprouted from his back, as horns and a tail accompanied them. Eijirou Kirishima was a dragon, or more specifically the imaginary creatures known as shifters. The surprising thing was you never felt a hint of fear, not even when you noticed the other dragons circling around you.

Slowly you walked up to the shifter boy, placing your hand along the beautiful scales. The uneasiness on both your faces melting into an understanding comfort. “Merry Christmas Eijiro.” You smiled, as a large leathery wing came to swoop you up to his face. Holding you there as he shifted back to his human form, hugging you tightly. “Merry Christmas (Y/n), oh and Kaminari apologizes about last night, he thought you were hurting me.” He laughed and you two continued to enjoy the others embrace, as the snow fell around you. It truly was a wonderful Christmas.