#when the romantic tension is so overwhelming you have to put a pillow in between the two of you to block it out

[hothammies]

sharing a bed in s5 but there's a pillow wall between them

[thirstywoso]

Forget about your girlfriend - Jessie Fleming x Reader 18+

W/C: 2.2k

Synopsis: Reader falls for Jessie after realising her relationship has ran its course

A/N: Just here for the angst, having a weird ass time at the minute and wanted to write something that wasn't so fluffy and was more shitty of reader

Warnings: cheating MDNI 18+, Oral, Fingering (giving and receiving) , strap (receiving), I can't think of anything else because if I'm honest I rushed the end of this and probably got repetitive because I'm so mentally and physically exhausted. Hopefully some better fics are coming I just wanted to put something out for y'all even if it was a rush job.

Your relationship had been on the rocks for awhile, the love you once shared had begun to dwindle, the fun you used to share gone, romantic gestures all but a distant memory.

You stayed though, out of convenience. A break up would be too much hassle and staying together would make you feel less lonely.

That was until Jessie had moved to Portland, you'd heard of her but hadn't ever met before. Yet you hit it off straight away, the way she knew exactly what to say to make you laugh.

How even when you were having an off day she could read you and cheer you up, she just got you in away that nobody had before.

Of course you felt guilty you loved your girlfriend, just Jessie added something to your life that you felt was missing.

That's what brought you to tonight, after innocent flirting and months of getting closer with Jessie you'd gone straight to her after a heated fight with your girl.

Your eyes were brimming with tears and she pulled you into a hug, tightly holding you. It's when you pulled back and looked into her deep brown eyes that you knew you were fucked, the tension all too much.

Pulling her closer your eyes dart between her lips and her eyes, a sudden rush coming over you, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Then it was too late, your lips were on hers and her hands were on your hips. Pulling you tight. Biting on your lip to ground herself trying to control the urge to pull you to the bedroom.

Your hands began roaming along her back not letting her pull away, until you needed to breathe.

"Do you want me to stop?.. if you do please say because if we keep going I don't think I will be able to stop myself" she states matter of fact.

You nod your head pulling her back in, arms running along her shoulder blades dragging down until your finger tips are running along her waist. Her actions mirroring yours as you fall deeper into each other.

She begins to pull off your shirt looking at you to double check you were still okay, your eyes meet and you violently nod your head. The look on Jessie's face sending a pulse to your core.

Without a second thought you began ripping each others clothing off discarding all over Jessie's apartment floor before she held your jaw pulling you with her toward her bedroom.

Getting through the door she twists you around pushing you as you step back toward her bed, your calves meeting the end of her bed as she shoves you backwards.

Your head falling into her pillows, her scent overwhelming as you stare up at her longingly.

"I'm going to fuck you so good, you forget your name" she says so causally

"This is your last chance to stop or I'm going to have you whimpering my name and not hers" she offers

"Prove it" you give

That's all Jessie needed to hear as her lips were back on yours in a heated kiss, that then trialed across your cheek and down your neck, feather light kisses and kitten licks of her tongue follow the column of your neck.

Your core beginning to feel like molten lava

"Please" you whimper out as her hand snakes between the two of you, slowly making its way to where you so badly needed her.

"Fuck" she gasps gathering the wetness on her finger tips "do you get this wet for her?" She almost laughs

"Just for you Jessie" you whimper out as her fingers circle your bundle of nerves.

"What's that baby? She doesn't make you this wet? Speak up for me" she mocks her fingers slipping inside of you.

"Fuck.. only you make me this wet Jessie" you moan, head falling back into the pillows eyes rolling back at the delicious stretch she provided you.

Jessie whispering sweet nothings in your ear as her fingers curl deeper "you look so fucking good like this" she groans into your neck" you cry out at her words needing more.

Grabbing onto her hair you begin to push her down, she knows exactly what you want as she trails kisses down your stomach. Blowing gently on your core she removes her fingers before sucking them into her own mouth. Tasting you for the first time, her eyes roll back drunk on your taste.

You laugh down at her "good?" You question.

"You wanna try yourself?" She responds with a nod, dipping her fingers back into you before pulling them out dripping in your arousal.

Wiping her finger tips along your bottom lip before thrusting them into your waiting tongue so you could taste yourself.

You gush at the idea of her fingers fucking your throat and you begin to make a show of cleaning them. Head bobbing up and down gagging on her digits.

She chuckles to herself as she leans down kissing your core, soft at first but then more hungry, kisses to your clit followed by swipes of her tongue through you folds until she is overtaken by want.

He tongue dives into you, furiously fucking you in a frenzy your entrance pulsing around her as her nose bumps into your bundle of nerves.

Your hands find her hair tugging at it as your mouth falls open a silent scream erupting from deep in your throat as she hits the spot you need her most.

Jessie groans into your wet heat adding her ring and middle finger once more, joining her tongue as they dive inside you making your toes curl and eyes screw shut.

Lifting off the bed your hips begin to buck into her mouth and fingers trying to pull her closer into you, your free hand screwing up the sheets beneath you.

Retracting her tongue she begins to suckle on your folds and make her way to your clit that she sucks between her teeth, flicking her tongue over it repeatedly.

Humming to herself at the shake in your legs and repeating the motion, you can't help but whimper as you feel your orgasm approaching.

Before you know it you are falling off the edge and Jessie is back by your head kissing you, overwhelming you with your own flavour.

Her hand is gently caressing your thigh and her lips begin to leave a trail of feather light kisses on your neck as you catch your breath.

"Wow that was something else" you manage to puff out with a slight giggle.

"You look so pretty when you cum y/n, I could watch the way your face screws up and mouth hangs open on repeat" she admits nipping at your ear lobe

"Then make me do it again" you whisper in a tone that almost sounds like a question.

"Mmm yeah?" She says shifting onto her elbow looking down at you. "You want to come apart on my cock?"

You nod your head pulling her in for a kiss, when she pulls back you let her know exactly what you want "Please Jess, fuck me"

She doesn't need to be told twice, grabbing one of her favourite straps from the draw she secures it to her waist before kneeling in front of you again as your legs involuntarily spread for her.

She rubbed the tip along your slit gently before leaning down to kiss you as her length slid past your entrance hitting your throbbing clit and back, repeating this motion as she gently rocked her hips into you as your kiss became more feverish.

She sucked down gently on your tongue as your hands found their way to her shoulders and raked gently up and down her back.

As your tongues battled for dominance you reached between the two of you finding the base of Jessie's newest appendage and angling it so the tip stretched at your opening on Jessie's next thrust.

"Please, I need you inside me, Jessie I want to be so full of you please" you beg her, knowing you needed to feel her stretch you open.

As your hands grab back onto her shoulders Jessie's cock fills you to the hilt, both of you letting out shuddering breaths.

The two of you realising how deep inside you she is, scared to move knowing that there is no turning back now. Your eyes flutter at the feeling of being full of her as she groans just imagining the way you are pulsing around her the same way you did on her fingers.

After a deep breath she pulls back until only the tip is stretching your entrance before slamming her hips back down causing you to grunt, enjoying your reaction she does it again her eyes rolling back at the hitch in your throat as she grinds into you.

"You're taking me so well pretty girl" she praises you as she fills you up again.

Your eyes roll back at her words as she quickens her pace, her finger tips making quick rhythm across your clit.

It had been so long since you had felt this good and the pang of guilt you had subsided pretty quickly once Jessie's lips attached themselves to your neck.

"Forget about your girlfriend" she whispers into your ear, you were so drawn to Jessie that you didn't even remember her name which you knew was so bad, but something inside you just didn't care.

"You are such a bad girl but look at you being a good girl for me" she whispers in your ear nibbling on your ear lobe for emphasis.

The pleasure from her strap nudging against your most needy spot and her little pants and words of encouragement in your neck drove you straight to the edge.

Pulling back she looked into your eyes her speed in thrusts and clit stimulation increasing

"That's it baby, cum for me" she groans as she grabs your ankles angling deeper inside you pushing you over the edge, her longing stare into her eyes driving you feral.

Your nails clawing down her back as you cum on her thick cock, she giggles slightly into your neck as she collapse atop you.

After some time you both start to move, Jessie peeling herself off of you and cuddling you into her.

Your hand traces soft patterns across her exposed skin, before dragging the strap on off of where she had secured it. Discarding it somewhere in the room before your hand found purchase between her legs once more, dipping your fingers between her folds you gather some of her wetness.

The slide of your fingers mixed with the way you could feel her dripping made you crazy, it wasn't long before you sunk your fingers in knuckle deep. Causing both of you to groan out.

"So wet for me Jessie" you half laugh half groan

"Does she get this wet for you baby?" Jessie smirks which you quickly wipe off her face with an overly eager curl of your fingers and a delicate kiss to the edge of her mouth.

Pumping your fingers in harder you kiss her, swallowing her moans as you feel her walls flutter around your digits.

A particularly delicious curl sent her eyes rolling back and her mouth agape, she looked so fucking beautiful so open and relaxed for you.

Kissing along her jaw and neck, biting, sucking and soothing with your tongue repeatedly as you add another digit.

Jessie stretching around you further, worked up from seeing you come undone and from the stimulation the bottom of the strap provided her clit it wasn't long until you had her on the precipice.

One powerful and skill full curl and scissor of your fingers sent her careening off the edge you'd placed her on, kissing her face and neck repeatedly as she shuddered and came down from her high.

Once you'd both caught your breath you were soon wrapped in each other warm embrace.

You hadn't felt so content and safe in such a long time that you began to cry.

"What's wrong baby?" She asks using the pad of her thumb to wipe away your tears.

"I think I know what to do" you say dryly

"...end things" you carry on noticing Jessie's raised elbow

Leaning down she places a kiss on your forehead and rubs your cheek

"Whatever you do or do not decide to do, I will be here for you" she reaffirms

"I love you Jess" you whisper

You think she whispers it back but your eyes were heavy and you drifted into a sleep tucked up in her arms, overwhelmed with her scent from the bed sheets and her proximity. You'd never felt so safe and cared for and you couldn't help the sleep taking over.

[spoiledbooks]

In Memoriam

Author: Alice Winn

Characters: Henry Gaunt Sidney Ellwood

Synopsis: "It's 1914, and talk of war feels far away to Henry Gaunt, Sidney Ellwood and the rest of their classmates, safely ensconced in their idyllic boarding school in the English countryside. At seventeen, they're too young to enlist, and anyway, Gaunt is fighting his own private battle - an all-consuming infatuation with his best friend, the dreamy, poetic Ellwood - not having a clue that Ellwood is in love with him, always has been. When Gaunt's German mother asks him to enlist as an officer in the British army to protect the family from anti-German attacks, Gaunt signs up immediately, relieved to escape his overwhelming feelings for Ellwood.

The front is horrific, of course, and though Gaunt tries to dissuade Ellwood from joining him on the battlefield, Ellwood soon rushes to join him, spurred on by his love of Greek heroes and romantic poetry. Before long, their classmates have followed suit. Once in the trenches, Ellwood and Gaunt find fleeting moments of solace in one another, but their friends are all dying, right in front of them, and at any moment they could be next."

–

I have finished this book after staying up and three cups of tea at four in the morning. Gain and Elly's story is so absorbing and riveting. This book has left me with a lingering feeling that I myself cannot put into words. The detail in this book is magnificently written, though very dark and gruesome. Chapter Fifteen will be the most memorable chapter of all the books I have ever read. I have never shouted so loud on a pillow over my head. What I love about this book is how relatable it is to me somehow. The unrequited love between Elly and Gaunt at first - the shyness; the insecurity; the fear of rejection; the unspeakable tensions; the body languages. I have all experience this and the familiarity has very much left me with goosebumps. Oh the languages of love! I did not cry in this book but I remember how heightened my emotions while reading this book. And this is one of the books that I would probably forget the plot details but would still strongly recommend to everyone. The book ended with Elly and Gaunt living together in Brazil. They are only about in their 20's. 21 and 22 if Im not mistaken. Elly was greatly affected by war and probably is having PTSD and was having difficulty with expressing his words and he has been grumpy and has anger issues post-war. Gaunt says "I love you" in the end but Ellwood is unable to say it back replied with "I cannot heave my heart into my mouth." As Gaunt was staring into his eyes, Elly added, "Shakespeare, King Lear." (Elly loves poem in the early years). And to this Gain replied, "There. It's a start."

I have not read King Lear but the amazing Google has given me a bit of help. It says King Lear's moral of the story is, "a person's actions speak louder than words alone."

[randomshyperson]

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 19 - The Seventh Yearh (Part Four)

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. || Chapter Warnings: PTSD, mentions of violence, dark magic, mind games, emotional manipulation, brief sexual teasing/thematic with minors, angst, minors kissing.

Series Masterlist ||  Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 19 - Part XIX - The Seventh Yearh (Part Four)

The tent is already set up, and you are sitting in the living room, adjusting the radio on the kitchen table.

"Are you sure it was working before?" You mutter discontentedly, beginning to feel frustrated with the device that refuses to recognize the signal.

Wanda, who is standing next to you with a magic book in her lap, doesn't take her eyes off the reading when she answers yes.

Agatha comes out from inside the room with several objects in hand, and dumps them on the table in front of you.

"Well girls, what I have to do in this country can only be done during the day, so let's study in the meantime." She announces as she arranges the jars she has brought. You raise your eyebrow, pushing the small radio away.

"Actually I wanted to ask a few questions and finish going through the memories, Agatha." You say but she laughs, denying with her head.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about." She says. "Are you trying to lose your mind completely? You can't use zinnia for too long. It destroys that fragile mind of yours. I'm sure that's part of the curriculum, so what are you doing at Hogwarts if not studying?" She sneers and then looks at Wanda. "Oh wait, I know what kept you busy."

You turn red, but before you can complain about the woman's lack of description, Wanda is speaking.

"In case you have forgotten, we learned about zinnia in fifth grade." She says. "And Hogwarts was not an example of any teaching in that period or the year after for Y/N."

Agatha rolls her eyes, shrugging to end the teasing. You feel too embarrassed to look at Wanda again.

"Well, I'll go and fix Kaecillius' damage to my school administration then." Says the teacher. "If Miss Stark intends to become a decent witch, she needs to learn magic. The same goes for you, Miss Maximoff."

"I know magic, Agatha." Wanda begrudgingly retorts, her gaze returning to the book.

"If I remember correctly, my tutoring was discontinued, so there is much you need to learn."

"You remember it well, yes. We had to break off relations because you attacked my girlfriend." Wanda returns the teasing, but Agatha only laughs lightly as she begins to do some mixing.

“Water under the bridge, now.” She mutters, and soon, she’s putting a cup in front of you, and pouring a clear liquid inside.

"No, thank you." You say, leaning your arms on the table. Wanda gives a short laugh from your side without taking her eyes off the book.

"It's not poison." Agatha says.

"I know, I've seen you do it." You say. "I just won't drink it because it would be the second intoxication in less than 24 hours."

Agatha laughs, pulling the glass back to herself. A proud smile on her lips because you were able to recognize that whatever she was doing, it wasn't ready yet.

She charms the mixture, purple magic touching the liquid, until the color changes to a brilliant gold.

She pushes the glass back, and you raise an eyebrow.

"Drink."

"No."

"Wanda, darling, drink this." She says pushing the glass toward the girl. The witch sighs, her eyes on the book.

"Don't drag me into it, Agatha. " She says. "It was you who told her not to accept drinks from strangers."

"You two are so annoying." The witch declares. You giggle, but accept the drink.

For the next hours, Agatha teaches you to recognize the smell, and then the taste, of different plants, so that if you do get poisoned, at least have time to try something.

It's dinnertime when she decides to wrap up with one last potion, and you're resting your head on the table, waiting for her to finish brewing the potion, the book she's enchanted floating in the air beside her.

"Here." She says pushing the bottle in front of you.

It is only when the potion touches your lips that you recognize the taste. The same elixir Agatha gave you in the dungeon.

Your body tenses, and you cough awkwardly, pushing the cup back to her while she watches you attentively.

“W-why would you��” You started feeling your chest hurt, your heart racing. Swallowing the emotion away, you look at her, but Agatha is already organizing everything.

"What did you do?" Wanda asks worriedly, noticing the way you have gotten jumpy. Agatha sighs.

"Trauma can be a powerful thing, Miss Stark." Murmurs the older witch. "An immense vulnerability to an opponent to take advantage of. You'll need to overcome that if you want to protect her."

You stand up, feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed, evading Wanda's touch on your shoulders. "I'm going to bed."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Miss Stark." Agatha says, but you are already leaving.

You hear Wanda slam the book down hard on the table before following you back into the bedroom.

As you sit on the bunk, trying to normalize your breathing, she kneels in front of you, her hands on your neck.

"What happened?" she asks worriedly, her fingers caressing your skin.

"It 's stupid."

"Tell me."

You sigh, looking down at your own lap. "It's the same potion she used on me, in the dungeons. To keep me awake."

"I'm going to kill her." Wanda says simply, but when she makes mention of getting up, you hold her in place.

"Hey, it's okay." You say quickly. "She's messing with us, again. But I don't think she really meant any harm. Besides, we have an agreement don't we?"

But Wanda had an anger in her gaze that you have never seen before, her jaw locked. You touched her cheek with your hand.

"Wanda?"

"I hate this, Y/N." She confesses between teeth, her eyes filling with angry tears. "I hate what she did to you. I hate that I can't change, take your pain away. Not being strong enough to protect you. Or smart enough to see that she was using me an-

"Wanda, stop it." You interrupt seriously, and as your hand moves down her neck, you feel the metal of the necklace. Sighing softly, you keep your attention on the green orbs in front of you. "I really want to take away all the guilt you feel before it eats you alive, but I don't know how. Tell me how to help you."

Wanda seems surprised at your words, and just looks at you. And then to your lips, and you feel her breath hitch, before she puts a little distance between your faces.

"I'll be fine." She assures you with a sad smile. "My priority is whether if you will be as well."

You smile at her. "I'm only okay when you're okay, Wanda."

It sounded romantic in your head, but maybe those weren't the words you should have chosen, because Wanda looked away immediately, almost embarrassed, and not for the right reasons. Swallowing dryly, she got up from the floor.

"I-I'm going to talk to Agatha." She declares. "About boundaries. This won't work if we don't have any." She walks away to the bedroom door, but before she leaves, she turns to you again. "I'm also going to heat up dinner. Join us if you want."

But you wouldn't. You weren't hungry, and you were feeling stupid for saying that just hours after you heard Wanda confess that she hated that your life depended on hers.

So you threw yourself on the bed, and tried to get some rest.

You ended up oversleeping. And you only woke up because Wanda was having a nightmare in the top bed.

Moving quickly out of the bunk, you stood, turning to check on her.

A frown even with closed eyes, wriggling slightly in bed. You sighed with concern, tracing the skin of her face to wake her without startling her.

When she had a small jolt, her eyes were red, but they returned to their normal color when she realized she was only dreaming, and threw her face back into the pillow.

"I'm sorry." She murmured in a hoarse voice, but you just supported your arms on the mattress, and your face in them.

"For what?"

"For waking you up." She retorts, turning to lie on her side, and face you.

"No problem." You say. "I guess in a way I'm returning favors."

Wanda smiles, but it is so short that you feel awkward. And then you extend your fingers to her neck.

"Why are you still wearing this?" You ask about the necklace, and she frowns slightly, turning back to stare at the ceiling.

"Agatha hurts you when she wears it." She says simply. " So I will wear it to avoid that."

You shake your head. "No way, take it off now."

Wanda moves further away, on the edge of the bunk. You sigh impatiently, and climb onto the mattress.

The metal makes a noise with the new weight, but you are busy trying to get the necklace off Wanda, who grumbles and tries to struggle against your hands as she tries to keep you from falling off the bed.

You end up on top of her, the necklace in your right hand, but your other hand dangerously close to her breasts.

"Don't wear it for long." You tell her half out of breath from the struggle and the closeness, Wanda is looking at you wide-eyed. "Let's switch whenever it starts to get too much, okay?"

"Y-yes."

"Wanda, you're blushing." You tease with a smile, watching her cheeks. She looks at your mouth, frowning.

"No I'm not."

"Is it because I'm on top of you, baby?" You continue, and she turns even redder. You were going to tease her further, but while you were talking, you had moved to put the necklace on.

And when the object hung around her neck, all the tension changed.

You looked into Wanda's longing gaze and could only remember that she chose to leave you. Without asking your opinion. Without caring about your feelings.

So you pulled away, with a neutral expression, laying down on the bed beside her.

There is a silence between you, Wanda is trying to control her heartbeat and you are trying to push so many doubts that pop into your head at once.

"I think if you're not going to be with me, we shouldn't do this kind of thing anymore." You state simply, and can hardly be bothered by the way Wanda stands tense beside you.

And there is a long pause, until she speaks. "Okay."

You want to scream at her lack of reaction. All you do is stand up, and leave the room.

From that distance, you cannot hear Wanda crying against the pillow.

//-//-//-//-//

It doesn't take long for you to realize that wearing the necklace is addictive.

The deal is not more than four hours for each, but every time the object is hanging around your neck, you are gripped by the urge to keep it with you.

There is a whisper in the back of your mind saying that Wanda could lose it, or break it, and it's hard to push those lines away when you need to give it back, but you manage. And you wonder if Wanda thinks the same things.

When you are wearing the necklace, you feel apathetic and angry. It's as if all the bad things that have happened to you reach the surface at once. You give short answers, and isolate yourself. Your mind sighs things that you think you should remember are lies.

Agatha is trying to make you a better witch. The same for Wanda.

She teaches you things you don't know, from books you've never seen.

But with weeks of running and camping, and the horcrux around your neck, you begin to grow impatient with the lack of answers.

So you are breaking a plate without realizing it.

"Fuck." You grumble in irritation as you feel the pain of the small cut on your hand. The noise has attracted the other two women, and it is Wanda who reaches for you first, but when she touches your forearm to pull your hand and see the cut, you move away as if you have been slapped. "Don't."

And you throw the dishcloth on the table, leaving the tent.

You are somewhere in northern Ireland, Agatha said it was at least.

And there are many trees obscuring your surroundings, but you walk among them without caring about getting lost. The necklace whispers that you should be alone, and you believe it.

The cut on your hand aches a bit, but you stop only when you reach the edge of a lake.

Maybe the icy water will calm your anger. Or maybe you will die of hypothermia and Wanda will live happily without you. The last thought made your stomach turn, but you kept taking off your clothes.

The necklace was cold against your skin, but no colder than water.

You dove in, and stayed under the water until you needed to breathe again.

The tears on your face were tears of frustration, but the lake wiped them away.

You wondered if they would leave without you.

If Wanda would run away and abandon you in Ireland.

She didn't want you to stay with her after all.

She didn't want you.

You sobbed.

And you went back under the water until you stopped crying.

But then someone jumped into the lake, the noise startled you.

You opened your eyes to find Wanda's terrified look under the water before you ascended together.

"Merlin, what is your problem?" She squinted in desperation, and you realized that she began to cry. "I thought you were-"

But she sobbed without being able to complete, and you shrank back against the cold water, hugging your body. "I just went for a swim."

"Don't ever do that again." She pleads between tears, throwing herself against you in a tight embrace, which you don't reciprocate.

The horcrux screams in the back of your head, like a loud whistle, and you are pushing Wanda by the waist. "I'm fine, we can go."

You walk out of the lake in a mechanical manner, ignoring the upset look Wanda has as you do so. And you put on your clothes in silence, until you are standing clumsily at the edge.

Before you return however, Wanda calls out to you.

"Take it off."

"I still have time." You mumble without looking at her, but Wanda is approaching and you clench your jaw.

"I wasn't asking." She says and you lock eyes with her in defiance, not moving. When she is close enough to pull out, you move forward and kiss her on the mouth.

She sighs affected, almost losing her balance. And when she motions to kiss you back, you pull away.

"Don't touch what isn't yours." You don't know if you're talking about the necklace, or your body, but either way Wanda's eyes fall to your lips, and she holds her breath.

"I wasn't." She whispers, and without losing her composure, her hands go up your arms until they reach your neck, and she is so close that you ignore the urge to keep the necklace, and let her do whatever she wants. Her fingers find the item. "The necklace belongs to any worthy slytherin. And you, darling, you have always been mine."

You sigh as the necklace comes off, and Wanda throws it on the floor the next moment.

This time, it is she who breaks the distance, bringing your mouths together in a passionate kiss.

Your head spins, and you surrender. Her hands go to where the necklace was, and her tongue invades your mouth without waiting for permission, taking you for herself, making you gasp.

Thrusting your body forward, with your hands on Wanda's waist, you press her against the tree behind her, never breaking the kiss and making her sigh at having your body so close.

You are kissing each other firmly, with longing. You breathe breathlessly against each other's lips, afraid that if any of you pull away you will be done for good.

Your hands start to move down before you can think about it, and when they reach Wanda's ass, you squeeze the flesh against your hands, and she moans against your lips, thrusting her hips forward, begging for more.

There's not the slightest possibility that your first time with Wanda would be in a forest, in the middle of the snow, but when she bites your lips and kisses you like this, it doesn't seem so impossible. It gets hard not to think about getting down on your knees, tasting her where you imagine she would like it.

"We shouldn't." She manages to whisper between kisses, in the mess you two have become, and all you do is move your lips down her jaw, and then her neck. And Wanda whimpers, digging her fingernail into your shoulder. "Please."

You don't know if she is asking for more, or to stop. The second option breaks your heart, but you follow it, breathing out of rhythm as you pull your lips from her skin, pulling away.

Wanda's lips are swollen from kissing hard, her pupils dilated, her chest heaving. And you want to kiss her again, but you just swallow dry and put more distance between you.

"W-we should go back." You mumble in a hoarse voice, looking down at the ground.

"There you are!" Agatha's voice makes you jump in fright, and so does Wanda. The tension turned to shame of you being found, with clearly visible appearances of what you two were doing. But the older witch doesn't mind, a teasing smile. "Busy?"

"I just came to check if she was okay." Wanda answers quickly, clumsily as she bends down to pick up the necklace she threw on the floor.

"I imagine so." Agatha mutters. "We need to go, we didn't come here for nothing."

The way back is silent,you don't have the courage to face Wanda, but she has put the necklace back on, and isn't looking because she must be hating herself, again.

And you bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to do.

Agatha is whistling, and you realize that you are not going back to the tent.

"Where are we going, Agatha?" You ask curiously, and she replies still looking forward.

"Your father really did have friends in all places, Miss Stark."

You frown, but it is Wanda who speaks. "Vague answers don't make you sound mysterious, Agatha. They just annoy me."

The older witch laughs at the comment, but you think you must be too affected by the make-out session, because Wanda's locked jaw makes you wish she would just kiss you again, non-stop this time.

Clearing your throat, you look away, and decide to follow the two other witches in silence.

“We are here to see a quite despicable sorcerer, who is going to make mean and unkind remarks, and you are going to be silent so that I can go on."

You exchange a look with Wanda, who has an expression of indignation on her face.

"I can' t promise that, Agatha. " She says. "Wouldn't it be better to leave us in the tent?"

"So you can be grabbing each other like two animals in heat?" She retorts and you choke in surprise, looking away to the ground immediately. "I don't really care, but I need Stark, because Tivan owed Howard a favor and only agreed to deal with her present. And well, I expected you wouldn't let her come alone with me."

Wanda completely ignores Agatha's teasing to reply "You're right, I don't trust you."

"Thanks, sugar." The witch retorts, causing the younger girl to roll her eyes impatiently. "Do me a favor and keep that necklace well hidden. Or give it back to me."

"No." She answers quickly. "I'll keep it."

"As you wish." Agatha says and you stand in silence as you walk through the small village.

It is really very quiet, and the few people on the street don't bother to look at you guys at all.

And then you are at the gate of a huge mansion, and Agatha is telling the gatekeeper that you have an appointment with the "collector."

"Why do you call him that?" You ask, and she gives a little laugh.

"You'll understand in a minute."

You walk down the front steps to the door.

And when you enter, you hold your breath.

It is no ordinary house, it is a long dark corridor, magically enchanted and giving you the feeling that it is endless, with the same doors for miles and miles forward.

A girl about your age is waiting, and she smiles politely at the three of you.

"Miss Harkness, you have finally managed to join us." She says. "My master is waiting for you and Miss Stark."

"Miss Maximoff will be joining us tonight as well dear. I hope Tivan doesn't mind." Says the witch following the other down the hall.

"Every friend of Howard Stark is welcome, my master said." The girl says simply, and you see Agatha sigh. She seems annoyed by the other's submission, but says nothing.

You stop in front of a double door, white in prominence with the darkness of the hallway.

The girl opens it, and you enter a huge room, with the ceiling so high that even if you squint your eyes, you can't see the end. And it reflects the stars.

A tall, strong man wearing a leather dragon coat is waiting inside, and he flashes a smile that does not reach his eyes. His hair is as white as the door.

"Agatha! It's so good to see you again, old friend." He says with open arms, but reaches up with outstretched hands, catching Agatha's quickly. "Did you have a peaceful trip?"

"Hardly, Tivan, I'm a fugitive now." She jokes causing you and Wanda to exchange worried glances, but the wizard doesn't seem to mind, laughing at the phrase. "And don't call me old, we're only a few decades apart!"

Tivan laughs again, letting go of the witch's hands. He turns his face to you, and looks at you with glowing eyes.

"By Merlin, you are Stark's daughter." He says. "You have the same eyes as Melissa, no?"

You look embarrassed under his gaze. It's evaluative, and Wanda seems to notice it too, because she covers you gently, and draws the man's attention to herself.

"Oh, and who are you, sweetheart?"

"This is Wanda Maximoff, Tivan." Agatha replies earnestly, and you are surprised at the scolding. "And no, they're not for sale."

You widen your eyes, understanding the reason behind his name. Wanda's hand slides into yours immediately, covered by the cape.

Tivan gives a short laugh, "That's a shame, Harkness. You know very well the value of a scarlet sorceress. Even more a pretty thing like that."

You take an aggressive step forward, but Agatha quickly stands in your way.

"Let's finalize everything soon, Tivan." She urges. "I can't stay in places for too long. I'm sure you can understand the feeling."

The man gives you and Wanda one last look before nodding to Agatha, turning to walk toward the bookshelves on the right side in the room.

There are several shelves, with many items, and just like the hallways, extend into what seems like infinity.

Tivan just goes to the first one, and pulls out a small chest from there, enchanting it to follow him in the air to you.

"Here it is, Agatha." He says. "Howard Stark's last translator."

You widen your eyes as the chest opens. Inside, there is a small metal device. Very different from any of your father's other machines, it looks much more rudimentary.

Agatha sighs softly, lifting her fingers to trace the object.

"And you assure me it works?" She asks, and the man chuckles softly.

"I have plenty of monsters in there if you want to test it."

You swallow dryly, but Agatha just smiles. "No need, you are many things, but a liar is none of them."

"I appreciate the confidence, Agatha." He says as he moves his fingers and magically closes the trunk. "But pay before you play."

The witch doesn't look offended, she just hurries to fiddle with her robes, and you widen your eyes when she takes out a necklace.

Kaecillius' gift, the eye of Agamotto.

"That's not yours to sell!" You blurt out angrily, but Agatha keeps the item out of your reach, while Tivan seems impressed by the whole scene.

"And neither is yours, Miss Stark." She retorts impatiently. "Be quiet while the adults talk."

"Are you serious? How did you even get it, it was in the house-"

"Quiet!" Agatha cuts in turning to you, her tone is angry, but her eyes are almost pleading. "That's enough of this. Don't disgrace the good manners your father taught you."

You are indignant, but Wanda's grip around your hands makes you believe it is better not to insist.

"Play along." Her voice sounds in your head the same second Agatha turns to Tivan again, and you swallow dryly, trusting her.

"Interesting." The man murmurs, impressed, but doesn't keep his gaze on you. His attention shifts immediately to the necklace Agatha hands him.

"As you can see, it's real." She says. "A fair price for another relic, or even more valuable, since you will find no use for the translator."

Tivan grimaces. "Don't push it too far, Agatha. The translator became quite valuable with Stark's death. No one was able to reproduce another one." He says as he looks back to the witch. "Actually, I think I should raise my price." He says curling his fingers in the necklace, thoughtful as you watch Agatha tense up before relaxing.

"Now I'm the one who's going to ask you not to push it so far, Tivan." She says. "Agamotto is also dead, and that's the only treasure of his you'll get. Don't try to change the value just because you don't know how it works."

Tivan looks offended, but only for a second, because his gaze softens and he laughs. "Right, right. Any chance you know what's inside?"

"I have no idea." She says, but a part of you thinks she is lying.

The man nods, and the trunk moves gracefully through the air into Agatha's hands. She takes the small device from inside, and stows it inside her cloak.

Tivan takes his eyes off the necklace in his hands to look directly at you.

"I have a question for you, Miss Stark, before you go." He says, and Wanda squeezes your hand from behind the cloak, but you just stand there, waiting for the man to speak. "Did your father ever mention New York to you or your brother?"

"Tivan..."

"I asked the girl, Agatha." He interrupts the witch seriously. You think she doesn't insist because you are in his house, and a wizard like that, should bring trouble if contradicted. "Well?"

"No, sir." You say uncomfortably. "I don't know any New York stories."

The man gives a disappointed smile. "I suspected, but I wanted to hear you say it." He declares straightening his posture, and the necklace flies through the air until it vanishes among the bookshelves as Tivan walks back to the center of the room. "I would invite you for tea, but I understand the rush. You should know that I am always up for new negotiations with you, Agatha. And the same goes for the Scarlet Witch and her protector."

Agatha bids a quick farewell, pushing you gently out of the room.

"Don't look back, or the hall will get longer. Just keep walking." She guides in a whisper, and you think it best to obey.

The exit does seem to take longer, but you manage to reach the door. The girl from before was already waiting for you all, her arms behind her back.

"Thank you for your visit, Miss Harkness." She says politely. "My master is pleased with the acquisition this evening."

"I'm sure he is, dear." Agatha says, and touches the girl's arm gently. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

The girl just smiles, nodding almost mechanically. Agatha hesitates, but walks away.

As soon as you are outside the property, Wanda is yelling.

"I can't believe you stole from me, Agatha!" She squawks angrily as you all walk back into the forest, and the older witch just grumbles displeased at the volume, speeding off. "I told you this wouldn't work if you kept lying!"

"Would you have given me the necklace in good grace?" She retorts impatiently, but doesn't even wait for Wanda to answer. "Of course you wouldn't. Because you don't know what it is, but you're smart enough to know that it's not something ordinary. And too stubborn to willingly hand it over, not to mention you don't trust me, Wanda. I did what was necessary for us to make some progress."

"No more lies, Agatha!" Wanda insists in a mixture of frustration and irritation. "Stop hiding things. You could have asked, explained what you were going to do!

"Witches don't do that, Wanda." She retorts impatiently. "I've been alive for how many centuries, child. Do you think you can survive by telling everyone what you were going to do? No. You go ahead and do whatcha you gotta do, that’s the truth. Secrets save lives.”

"That's such bullshit." The brunette retorts, but you are almost back in the tent area, and Agatha is stopping walking.

"Give me the locket." She says, and Wanda frowns. "Let's get this over with quickly."

"What are you talking about?"

"That's why I needed the translator." She clarifies. "I went to Stark Manor last year, looking for this in the wreckage, but the walkers found it first. And it circled the dark market for months until Tivan acquired it in his collection. It's just what I need to open the horcrux and destroy it."

You look surprised and impressed, but Wanda crosses her arms.

"And how do you intend to do that?"

"Six years ago, Pietro Maximoff took Godric Gryffindor's sword out of the selector hat at my request." She counters drawing surprised exclamations from you and Wanda. "I didn't let him remember that, and I spent the last few years fortifying the metal with every kind of magic I could find. The poison from the monsters you didn't face in the labyrinth in the fourth year because I was hunting them out, or the blood from the dragon you killed in the first task. Everything. The goblins wrote to me that the sword only absorbed what could make it stronger, and even without knowing the location of the horcruxes, I needed to be ready to destroy them."

"How did you lose the sword?" You ask then, trying to fit the whole story together. Agatha sighs.

"Pietro deserted Hogwarts." She says. "The sword immediately disappeared, it went back into the hat. And I had to go back for it."

"If you had the sword and the locket, why didn't you destroy it?" Wanda questions, and seems very annoyed at the information that Agatha also used Pietro.

"Because I don't know parseltongue." She replies. "But with this, I don’t need to and I can open it."

You exchange a look with Wanda.

"This conversation is not over, Agatha." She says as she moves her hands to remove the necklace.

Agatha turns toward the tent, raises her hand from where her magic is visible between her fingers, and it takes a moment for the sword to fly toward her, gracefully fitting between her fingers.

But she hands it to you.

"I have a feeling it needs to be held by a Gryffindor." She says and you frown.

"Do you have any argument to support that?" You ask as you pick up the sword.

"It's just a guess." She says as she takes the translator out of her pocket.

She gestures for Wanda to leave the locket on the ground, and she does so a few inches away from you so that you have room to wield the sword and destroy it.

"Well, let's get this over with." Agatha says with her attention on the object in her hands. "Help me understand the language of the snakes."

The small object trembles with Agatha's whisper, and when it ascends a golden light between the openings, she continues.

"Open it."

The sound coming out of the metal is unlike anything you have heard. But as soon as it becomes silent, the locket flips open.

And something leaps out, a dark shadow that knocks you to the ground, along with Wanda and Agatha, who are thrown at least two meters away.

Your whole body trembles with fear and alertness. You lean on your elbows to look.

It is the part of Mephisto's soul that is fighting, it is the darkness of magic that protects it.

Agatha didn't fall, she is fighting the part of the shadowy cloud that tries to cover her, the purple magic around her.

Wanda has fallen, but has the same position as you, staring frightened ahead. And your immediate urge is to reach for her, stumbling to get up.

"Destroy it now, Stark!" Agatha shouts, but you keep walking.

Except that the shadow shrouds your field of vision, and you stop confused.

Wanda is standing in front of you.

"What are you still doing here?" Her tone is icy, it chills your whole body the wrong way, and you frown in confusion.

"W-what? We're destroying the horcrux, Wanda, what-"

"I told you to leave." She interrupts as she approaches, her gaze cruel. She has never looked at you like that. "Didn't you hear what Agatha said? You are weak. You are not, and you were never good enough for me."

You stumble away, shocked by the words. But she doesn't stop, smiling arrogantly.

"How was it that the least smart Stark was chosen to protect me?" She teases. "Our classmates are right. I match with the champion of the Triwizard Tournament, that woman will indeed be able to protect someone like me. And if you're lucky, you might get someone who will accept your mediocrity."

You want to throw up. But this is wrong. Something in your brain is screaming, because Wanda would never say such things.

She reaches out to you, and her touch has no pressure. It's just a ghost. An illusion, playing with your senses.

"Pathetic." She whispers, the black orbs glowing. That's enough for you.

Your mind wanders immeditarily to last summer.

"You know how much I love you, don't you?" Wanda whispers in the dark, under the covers with you. The light of the lantern while you are reading Romeo and Juliet in her room is enough for you to see her face blurry.

You smile, closing the book, and pushing it away as you lie on your side to face her.

"I have a vague idea." You joke. "I think quite a bit since I've been sleeping here all week."

But Wanda looks worried; she copies your position, but keeps a serious face. You lift your fingers to trace the wrinkle in her forehead, squeezing lightly until she stops frowning and smiles.

"I just..." She starts almost embarrassed. "Promise you'll never forget?"

You smile, because the idea is absurd, but decide to follow the line. "I promise."

And when Wanda's eyes fill with tears, you worry too, but she quickly shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I'm just being silly."

You caress her cheek, wiping away the tears that have run down. " You know how much I love you?"

You repeat the question in a whisper, and Wanda's cheeks flush, but she smiles, straightening herself up better. "I have a vague idea, because you've been sleeping here all week."

You laugh softly, and she follows you. "It's more than that." You whisper as you stop, staring at her. "I love you more than anything."

Wanda nods softly, her eyes filling with tears again, but this time it's for a good reason. She feels the same way.

"More than the characters in the book loved each other?" She asks in a gasp, her hand squeezing your shirt softly. You smile.

"What I feel for you makes the love of Romeo and Juliet seem like a crush." You retort, making her laugh embarrassedly.

But her smile slowly dies, and she swallows dryly before speaking again. "I don't want us to end up like in the book, babe. Never."

You know she's talking about dying. But specifically about you dying for her. You know that Wanda would do that for you no matter what, but the idea of living without her is unreasonable.

"I wouldn't like that either." You confess, moving closer so that your noses are touching. "I'd like to live with you."

Wanda smiles shyly, embarrassed by the implications in your speech. But you let your fingers wander to her hair, tucking the strands behind her ear.

"I think we would be happy in a cottage." You say, and her gaze brightens beyond the redness on her face. "Or we could buy an apartment in the city where there's a park for you to walk around in."

"I would like that." She confesses smiling. "To have a home with you. Wherever that is."

You swallow dryly, feeling your chest warm with happiness. "Do you think we could handle taking care of animals? I don't ever remember feeding Iron."

Wanda laughs softly, nodding. "We could try a cat first, they're more independent."

"And then an owl."

"Soon a dog."

"Maybe two."

You take a chance. "Or who knows..." But you lose courage, but Wanda smiles.

"Children."

You nod softly, looking at the green orbs adoringly. And she looks at you the same way. "As many as you want."

Wanda's eyes looking at you lock on your mind for the next few seconds as the memory fades, and you find yourself back in the horror of dark magic all around you.

You stumble away from the illusion of the locket, wielding your sword, and ignoring the adrenaline whistle in your ears.

There is no time for another defense, you raise the sword, and the next minute, it strikes the metal, destroying it.

The ghosts scream, and are gone in the blink of an eye, and you gasp in shock, still standing with trembling hands.

When Wanda stands up, and makes mention of touching you, you stumble over your words. "W-we have to go. He'll feel it for sure, let's get out of here before they find us." And you are already walking out toward the tent, keeping your gaze on the ground.

For the next few minutes, you are on autopilot.

Helping Agatha with the tent in silence, the two other witches don't seem to know exactly how to talk about what has just happened.

And when you need to Apparate to a new place, you hold Agatha's forearm instead of Wanda's hand.

"Where are we?" The brunette asks as soon as the ground settles at her feet. Agatha sighs.

"Honestly, we're running out of options." She replies. "It's still the United Kingdom, but it's almost the limit. We're going to need ideas from here on."

You remain silent as you set the tent back up, and when everything is ready, your hands are still shaking.

"Try to rest, Stark." Agatha says beside you. "You did very well tonight."

You only mutter in understanding, hurrying off to your room.

Not even taking off your shoes, you throw yourself on the bed, burying your face in the pillow.

Maybe sleep will put the horcrux image out of your head, but you imagine that once you fall asleep, this will be the only thing you’ll dream about.

//-//-//-//-///-//-///-//-//

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[ibis-gt]

Can we see the story of the gulliver's hanahaki first kiss?? Kiss, and then shrink so hard you're hanging off those lips you just kissed!

ough ok you got me Thinkin. just shy of 1500 words under the cut.

It was day two of their relationship, and Luther was already tired of taking it slow.

That was something they’d established on day one. Once Cam had finally puzzled out why Luther kept shrinking around him - his insanely embarrassing crush on Cam, of course - he’d laughed out loud, which only hurt a little, and then asked Luther out, which more than made up for it. The date hadn’t been anything spectacular by others’ standards, just a night in with popcorn and a movie, but it had been absolutely magical for Luther to finally be with the man of his dreams and not have to try to hide how deeply attracted to Cam he was. But having his feelings reciprocated hadn’t stopped his strange affliction, and when Cam leaned in for a good night kiss, all he got was air. Luther, now of a height with Cam’s ankles, had once again wished he’d just shrink away into nothing to spare himself the embarrassment.

So, the agreement. They’d take everything slow until Luther got used to it and wouldn’t end up tiny just because his boyfriend smiled at him. Cam was patient and willing to wait. Luther, however, had been bottling up his feelings since they’d first met, and was just about at the end of his rope. He wanted romance, he wanted passion, he wanted to be swept off his feet, and anyway being the size of a Polly Pocket made that last bit easier.

The two of them were sitting on Cam’s couch together watching some mindless soap drama at the end of a long day at work. They sat on opposite sides of the couch, since just a touch from Cam could make Luther lose a few inches. Luther took a deep breath to steady his nerves. It was time to make his move. He began to scoot closer to Cam, closing the gap between them. If Cam noticed, he didn’t react. Slowly but surely, Luther inched over until he was nearly touching Cam. He paused, did a breathing exercise to help slow his racing heart, and then leaned over until his side was flush with Cam’s, his head leaning on Cam’s shoulder. He held that pose for a moment, willing himself with all his might to stay full size. A moment passed… another… and he seemed to be all there. He let out a happy sign and relaxed into the touch, all the tension flooding out of him. His face was heating up, sure, and his heart was still going a mile a minute, but he seemed to be in control enough that he wasn’t panicking and activating the shrinking. So far, so good.

Cam seemed to notice Luther’s lack of shrinkage as well, and shifted so that his arm was draped over Luther’s shoulders. Uh oh. Okay, okay, Luther could handle this, no problem. This was just some nice romantic intimacy, nothing too heavy, they were just fine. Then Cam laughed at some inane moment on the show, and his laughter shook his body and Luther with it. The sheer proximity hit Luther all at once, and he felt himself begin to shrink. Cam’s arm grew heavier on his shoulders as he fought for control. No, no no, no no no, you’re fine, you can handle this, he thought desperately. You’re just leaning on your boyfriend. Get a grip.

But then came the nail in his coffin. Cam, noticing Luther begin to shrink, tried to do the supportive thing. He rubbed Luther’s back with his hand and looked down at him with that beautiful face, eyebrows drawn up adorably in an expression of concern, and asked in a soft voice, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

That was it. Luther’s heart jumped into his throat and the bottom fell out of his stomach and in a moment he was a mere eight inches tall, thankfully saved from nudity by the newly-designed jumpsuit that would shrink and grow with him. He slid down into the indent Cam made in the couch cushion and buried his face in his hands.

“Oh, shoot, I’m sorry,” Cam said, far above him. “I didn’t mean to - shoot.” He picked up the remote and clicked the TV off, then reached down and laid his hand next to Luther. “You wanna come up here?”

Luther climbed into the offered palm and held on as Cam carefully lifted him up to eye height. “Sorry,” Luther sighed. “I guess I rushed it a little too much. I just… I want to be able to be with you like… like a normal person. I don’t care if I shrink, really! I’m just tired of holding back.”

Cam’s worried expression smoothed into a fond smile. He stroked Luther’s back with one finger. “I’m fine with whatever you’re comfortable with,” Cam said. “If you want to do normal couple things, we can do normal couple things. I just thought you might want to avoid this as much as possible.”

“Well, I do, I don’t want to be a burden to you all the time, but…” Luther trailed off, looking down and away. He started in surprise as Cam put a fingertip to his chin and tilted it up so that he could look Luther in the eyes.

“You’re not a burden to me. You never are.” Cam hesitated, then continued on. “Honestly… and maybe I shouldn’t say it, because I’m sure it’s not fun for you, but I like you when you’re all tiny… I like you at any size, but you’re especially cute like this, you know? Fitting in the palm of my hand and all… it’s nice.”

Luther gaped, seeing a flush of red start to creep across Cam’s cheeks. He was so certain that his change in size could only ever be an annoyance, a pain, something to be dealt with, he hadn’t even considered that someone might find it nice.

“Really?” Luther whispered. For a moment, he was scared Cam would say no, that it had all been a joke, and throw him out of the apartment. It was ridiculous, absurd, Cam would never do that, but just for a moment that fear gripped him like a vice.

“Really,” Cam assured him, and the fear dissolved like cotton candy in water.

“Oh,” Luther said, and it was all he could say for a moment, so he said it again. “Oh.” Then a desire welled up in him, and he said, “Kiss me?”

Cam gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Um, I want to, but… how?”

“Just…” Luther leant forward on Cam’s hand, shifting so that he sat on his knees with his hands on the edge of Cam’s palm. His eyes focused on Cam’s lips. “Just kiss me. My face, I guess. Whole thing’s fine.”

“Okay… here goes. Tell me if it’s too much?” Luther nodded, so Cam brought him closer hesitantly. Luther reached out and put his hands on either side of Cam’s mouth, and Cam gently pressed his lips against Luther’s face.

It was immediately overwhelming, but Luther didn’t care. He didn’t have room to care. He was surrounded by lovely soft warmth, like pressing his face into a pillow. He kissed Cam’s bottom lip as hard as he could, desperate to give back any sensation possible. He knew Cam could feel it, because Cam laughed fondly through his nose, a warm exhalation of breath that tousled Luther’s hair and sent shivers down his spine.

Luther felt himself begin to shrink again.

In his whole life, the smallest he’d ever been was just a hair under three inches tall. The shrinking sensation was so strong that even before he was halfway through, he knew he was about to smash that record. He felt his hands trail down Cam’s cheeks and his bottom lip and grabbed on tight. His legs came up off of Cam’s palm as he dwindled down til he was just dangling off of Cam’s lip, feet kicking in a blind panic, digging his nails into Cam’s lip to keep from falling. His stomach dropped as Cam’s mouth opened, jaw lowering infinitesimally, but enough at Luther’s size to nearly jar him loose from his perch. He buried his face in Cam’s lip, not wanting to see inside that terrifying cavern in front of him.

“Woah,” Cam breathed, and the force of the word hit him like a gale. Luther squeaked in panic. He lost his hold and tumbled backwards, thankfully falling into Cam’s waiting hand. Cam stared in shock down at his itty bitty boyfriend, only an inch tall. Luther stared back up in sheer incomprehension. Cam was so large to him now that he filled Luther’s vision completely.

“Oh, jeez,” Cam murmured, trying to keep his voice quiet, but it still thundered around Luther like the voice of a god. “Maybe we went a little too fast there.”

[archerdaryl]

NSFW Alphabet: Daryl Dixon Edition

Happy Valentine’s Day! I’ve been planning on doing the NSFW Alphabet for Daryl for a while, but I hope it makes up for my absence nonetheless. I’ve tried to keep it as in character as possible -- or at least true to my perceptions of his character. Please be warned that this has explicit sexual content. Other than that, enjoy!  ♡

A for Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After catching his breath, Daryl will pull you in close and ask you if you’re alright in that thick Southern drawl of his. You can tell how much he cares about you by the slight smile on his lips and the way he traces faint circles on your hip with his thumb. He never wants to let you go, but eventually he’ll get you both a drink and ask if you want something to eat. Sometime he’ll even help you get dressed or pull you into the shower. Daryl may not be the type of man to verbalise his affection, but he certainly shows it. 

B for Body Part (of theirs and their partner)

Daryl doesn’t think particularly highly of himself when it comes to aesthetics, but he does like his arms. They’re toned. They’re strong. Not only can he keep you safe, make you feel like home is within his arms, but he can also hold you up effortlessly as he thrusts into you. Whether it’s against a wall or simply holding you up in the middle of a room with your thighs wrapped around his waist, there’s no chance he’ll drop you. 

If he can’t choose your smile, he would choose your thighs. He loves the way they look and feel against his hands, the smooth supple skin and the curve of your ass. He often naps on your inner thigh as you read on the couch, using it as a pillow as he takes in the smell of your vanilla and peach body wash. What he loves the most, however, is the strength of them clasped around his head as he eats you out. He’d happily suffocate within them if it meant getting you off. 

C is for Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It takes a long time for him to feel comfortable coming undone inside of you. The fear of pregnancy aside, he thinks the world of you and nothing of himself. He doesn’t think you deserve filth like that, but little does he know -- you like his filth. The first time is an accident, but there’s no denying how good it feels and you soon join him in climax as if being filled with his cum is what pushed you over the edge. You kiss him over and over to let him know it’s okay, and from then on he finds it harder and harder to find the will to pull out. 

Your cum, however, he can’t get enough of. Nothing riles him up like slipping his fingers into your jeans and feeling how slick you are. Your cum is liquid gold as far as he’s concerned, nothing short of a drug for him from the smell to the taste. Knowing that he can make you feel like that is intoxicating. He only ever wants to make you feel good, to feel wanted and needed and for you to whimper his name while he worships you between your legs.

D is for Dirty Secret 

Daryl often fantasizes about fucking you on his motorcycle. He isn’t sure why, it may not even be particularly comfortable, he just knows it really gets him going. The only problem is that it’s so out in the open and anyone could catch you, but that’s not going to stop him if you’re willing to try. 

E  is for Experience (how experienced are they?)

Daryl is not particularly experienced. He hasn’t had sex since the world turned to shit and even prior to that it wasn’t something he obsessed over like his brother. When you first start sleeping together, he’s uncertain of himself and scared of hurting you but your gentle touch and sweet gaze are nothing short of loving. Thankfully, he is incredibly perceptive. His desire to please you drives him. He feels how your body reacts, listens to your whines and whimpers, and watches your face contort. You tell him what to do without even realising it and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t listen. 

F is for Favourite Position

Any position where he can get as close to you as possible. He wants to feel every inch of you, your breasts against his chest, your hot breath against his shoulder, the scrape of your nails down his back. The closeness he desires fills a void inside of him. He wants to overwhelm him, he wants to hold you close and let the world around you disappear. He wants to hear you moan into his ear -- no -- against his mouth as he desperately kisses you to try and keep you quiet. Whether it’s missionary or from behind, as long as he can hold you in some way he’s happy. 

G is for Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? or funny?)

Though he might laugh at your quips, Daryl generally takes sex quite seriously. He finds it incredibly vulnerable and to him it is ultimately a profession of love. Having said this, he can’t help but sometimes smirk to himself while getting you off. 

H is for Hair (how well groomed are they? do they like body hair?)

You might have preferences regarding your own body hair but Daryl doesn’t care about how well groomed you are. It’s the Goddamn apocalypse -- who has the time to deal with all of that? As for himself, he might trim here and there out of uncertainty (he isn’t sure what you prefer) but that’s likely the extent of his grooming habits. 

I is for Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Daryl is romantic without meaning to be -- he isn’t sure what romance is beyond a steak dinner and a bouquet of flowers and the world isn’t exactly built for that anymore. He loves to kiss you and hold you close and he often checks that you’re okay. Even during spontaneous or your more carnal fucks, he’s always conscious of your reactions and wants you to feel in control even if he’s the one taking the lead. 

J is for Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

It wasn’t often Daryl touched himself before you came along. Sometimes he did it just to release some tension rather than because he was horny. Prior to realising you reciprocate his feelings, he often lost himself in thought fantasizing about you only to get hard and frustrated. He thought about your lips, the way you might sound when you moaned his name, how your thighs would feel wrapped around his head or his waist. If he didn’t curse himself for being a pervert, he’d find himself touching himself late at night or in the shower. Now that you’re his, he doesn’t feel the need to masturbate at all. 

K is for Kink 

Daryl likes it when you pull at his hair. Something about the desperation of it and the sweet sting of his scalp only makes him thrust into you harder. Though he might not realise it himself, he also has a praise kink -- being told how good he makes you feel drives him over the edge. He wants to give you everything you desire and more and hearing you moan in approval only makes him fuck you harder.

He may be apprehensive about some of your kinks, especially if they involve hurting you, but you only have to explain to him that the way he feels when you pull his hair is how you feel when he spanks you and he’s suddenly willing to try. Other than that, he’s likely more than willing to oblige and partake in your kinks if it means pleasing you. 

L is for Location 

Daryl isn’t particularly picky about where you have sex. He just wants you to feel safe and comfortable. You often end up fucking on his couch, but there’s also been a couple of instances in the shower, once on Rick’s pool table, and plenty of times in the watch towers. You almost had sex in the chapel once, but Gabriel came in singing hymns and you couldn’t stop laughing.

Though he prioritises you above anything else, fucking you into the floor or even the ground outside really gets him going. It feels dirtier, primal even, like what God originally intended or some shit like that he can’t put into words. It feels like you and him against the world and that’s all he wants. 

M is for Motivation (what turns them on/gets them going)

It doesn’t take much for you to turn him on, but he loves it when you initiate sex. The reassurance that you want him as much as he wants you is everything to him and he’s more than happy to oblige. He also loves it when you wander around in one of his shirts after a shower. It hangs off of your body like a dress and falls to the tops of your thighs so that when you bend he can see the curve of your ass. You know this, of course, and sometimes don’t wear underwear just to drive him that little bit more insane.  

N is for NO (what they will not do)

Again, Daryl doesn’t want to hurt you and he certainly doesn’t want to disrespect you. He also won’t fuck you beyond the safety of settlement walls if he isn’t absolutely sure the pair of you are safe and cannot be see or heard.  

O is for Oral (preferences, skills, etc)

It’s a long time before Daryl feels comfortable enough to let you go down on him which is primarily to do with his low opinion of himself. He already thinks he doesn’t deserve you, why would he think he deserves to experience you like that? He gets in his head, working himself up into believing you think you have to give him head when the reality is you want to. 

Going down on you is Daryl’s favourite thing to do. At first he was a little uncertain, not because he didn’t want to do it but because he didn’t want to disappoint you. He enjoys every part of eating you out from trailing kisses down your body to feeling you writhe under him as he sucks on your clit. He often makes it his mission to make you climax before he can even think about fucking you so that he can feel you pulse against his mouth and lap up your cum like he’s been been without water for days. He’s obsessed with your pussy. He’s sure it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen -- besides your eyes and that sunshine smile of yours, at least. 

P is for Pace

How hard or slow he fucks you depends on the moment and your moods. In the beginning he struggled with keeping a steady pace, but he has always prioritised making you climax first. You find that he is often passionate, sensual, and slow after a tough supply run, as if he’s trying to ground himself and find home within you. Other times, he likes to spend his time teasing you until you’re dripping wet and begging him to fuck you hard into the mattress.

Q is for Quickie (does he like them)

Daryl prefers a real opportunity to have sex over a quickie, but when the opportunity strikes he simply isn’t going to say no. Many of your quickies have occurred in the shower or in the pantry, but you’ve also been known to make use of the barn -- especially when you want the freedom to make a little noise. 

R is for Risk (experimenting, taking risks, etc)

While Daryl is more than willing to experiment, the idea of getting caught by someone mortifies him. It’s too vulnerable and intimate. He’d likely lose his temper immediately if someone were to walk in on you two having sex, especially if they were in a position to see too much of you. 

S  is for Stamina

This depends on a number of things, like the mood Daryl is in and how his day went. Sometimes, he wants it to last because he’s trying to lose himself and find relief. Other times he simply wants to make you feel good for as long as possible, draw orgasm after orgasm out of that pretty mouth of yours. It isn’t often you have enough time in the day to get more than one round in, but when you do it tends to be filthy and carnal and he loves every second of it. 

T is for Toys

Daryl has little to no experience with sex toys which means you’re the one who has to introduce them. He’d rather use his hands or his mouth instead of relying on a vibrator to get you off. Watching you get yourself off, however, is another matter entirely, especially when it’s him you’re fantasizing about and his name you’re whimpering as you fuck yourself in front of him. 

V is for Volume

In his day to day life, Daryl isn’t particularly talkative and this doesn’t change much during sex -- especially in the beginning. He often swears and he certainly grunts and groans, but it’s only later on in your relationship when he’s more secure in himself that he finds himself encouraging you to cum as if making you tremble is what he was put on this Earth to do. 

He loves to listen to you moan and whimper. The louder you are, the better, but since you have to be careful he’s also learned to love trying to keep you quiet so that you don’t get caught. He especially enjoys hearing you say his name and telling him how he makes you feel. 

W is for Wildcard

Daryl isn’t into anything too extreme or unconventional when it comes to sex, however it surprises both of you how into ‘phone sex’ he is when you’re both apart and have no choice but to talk to each other over the radio. You initiated it as a joke, thinking he wouldn’t even try to entertain your nonsense, but he’s soon trying to keep himself from grunting down the walkey while asking you -- in so many words -- to tell him everything you’re thinking, doing, and wearing. 

X is for X-Ray 

It took a long time for Daryl to be comfortable being completely naked in front of you, though that’s more because of the scars on his back rather than his lack of self-confidence. You make him feel good, feel worthy, and he soon forgets how self-conscious he is when he’s with you. 

Y is for Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Daryl doesn’t have the highest sex drive, especially if you want to compare him to his brother, but it doesn’t take much for you to get him hard and desperate to be inside of you. You have a higher sex drive than he does, he might even tease you for it, but he’ll never complain when he gets to hold you close and show you how much you mean to him.

Z is for ZZZs (how fast do they fall asleep)

After sex, Daryl likes to talk to you for a little while or just take in the moment with you in his arms. You might not talk about anything of substance, but he enjoys the calm after the storm. He makes sure that you’re comfortable, holding you close and kissing the back of your neck before he allows himself to drift off to sleep. 

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

A Certain Heartache (Joe x Reader)

(this might be the supreme Joe Hoe fic. Just simping out the fucking ass. Before I had a title for this, I just referred to it as “The Simp Fic”. I would write this late at night while lonely)

Dedicated to @heaven-is-hysteria​ >:3

Words: 3,494

Prompt: Holland, 1985, pre-Hysteria. You’ve been working alongside the band long before the recording of the 4th album began. Studio stress is at an all time high, so you and Joe (your mutual confidant) have a long, intimate talk one evening to vent it all away. After you part ways for the night, both of you are kept awake by the gears turning in your heads.

Romantic tension ahoy!

-----

His warm, lengthy body was perfectly contoured against yours. It was such a cold night, and you were glad he was there under the covers to provide you with an extra sense of security. The drumming of his heart thumped against your ear, and the swelling of his lungs was your reminder that your pillow was capable of breathing, too. As per his duty as a pillow, he let you cling to him in any way you pleased and had not complained once; he would just tell you "if you're comfy, then so am I."

Yes, that's what Joe would've done- if he were there with you.

Instead, there you were, in the wrong bed again. The bed would only feel like the right one if you had his company.

Romantic tension didn't even begin to define what you and Joe had between yourselves. There was no doubt in sight that both of you sensed it. It was magic in the air that only appeared when you were alone; it was something truly different. Things like a brief touch to your hair, holding hands, a quick kiss on the cheek, or occasionally dozing off on each other made this magic arise. There had been times of genuine affection with Joe, just as there had been times of platonic friendship. Unfortunately, you weren't sure where the line was drawn between them.

Based on past events, neither did he.

Stress at the studio had taken a toll on both of you over the past few weeks. That night, either of you were on the verge of a total breakdown because of it. You'd spent about two hours sitting and standing, walking and talking, laughing and crying to each other. The more you thought on it, the more romantic it felt. The social intimacy you discovered felt somehow more binding than what Joe had with the rest of his band mates.

Your heart leapt against the sheets at the realization; he let himself be open and sensitive around you that night, not the others. Of all people the mighty Joe Elliott was close to during such a pivotal time in his career, he chose to have deep conversation at night with you. And there you were, lying awake at night, unable to sleep because you were thinking about him.

For fuck's sake- this is getting too serious. You weren't sure why neither you or Joe hadn't made a move quite yet. One thing was for sure; it was killing you- especially after an evening like that.

-----

Your warm, gentle body was perfectly curled over his. While he didn't want to appear nervous, Joe's heart was mercilessly thumping against your ear. You were using him as a pillow, and he was trying to be the best one he could be. Even after Joe dismissed your concern for his comfort, you'd still try to shift yourself in a way that would feel better to him.

Yes, that's what you would've done- if you were there with him.

The game of chicken you two were clearly playing was reaching a breaking point. Joe wasn't sure who would crack first, but cracks were undoubtedly forming.

Joe stared up at his ceiling. The cold night was eating away at his skin, and goosebumps came and went when they wanted. When you both left each other for the night, it felt wrong and awkward. He felt like he should've spoken up and asked if you wanted to stay with him. Just a quick "wanna stay at my place tonight?" would've sufficed.

Joe thought that might have sounded better than "can I stay at your place tonight?", but regardless, he didn't get the chance to test either of them. It's not like it mattered too much to him. After all, you were only a hallway away from each other.

That evening, your long route through conversation topics left Joe feeling changed. He couldn't put his finger on what had changed, however. He supposed it had something to do with how you normally viewed him. For inexplicable reasons, you always seemed to get along with him the best. After that night, it was apparent you preferred him over the rest of the band.

The bumps on Joe's arms rose higher under the covers.

Out of the five Leppards, you chose him. He was the singer, and should've been used to girls picking him, but you still left him flattered and flushed like a shy child. Joe felt that of all the Leppards in distress, he was the last one who needed another heartache or another sleepless night.

Yet there he was, lying awake at night, unable to sleep because he was chosen by you. Oh, bloody wonderful. When it came to you, the line between 'friend' and 'girlfriend' was getting thinner and thinner. Joe couldn't get you to leave his heart, it seemed.

Unfortunately- to him- that only meant one thing:

There was no going back.

-----

It felt incredibly late now, but hardly an hour had passed since you went to bed. With Joe occupying every corner of your mind, you almost wanted to get up and go to the end of the hall to get him. You almost wanted that so badly. His affection wasn't just something you desired at the moment; it was something you couldn't get through the night without. It was an ache deep inside you- but you couldn't place whether it was in your heart or your soul.

Thinking of him felt like a dream, and in one corner of your mind, the phrase "man of your dreams" soon became his label.

The plain old pillow you embraced wasn't doing as well of a job as a tender, 6'2", warm-blooded, long-haired Yorkshire gentleman would have. You could still feel him all around you; his presence wouldn't leave. A hallway away and nothing but silence separating you both made the sound of Joe's heart louder than anything.

You wanted him with you, plain and simple. You just needed him there in whatever way was convenient. You wanted him to hold you and softly breathe against you and tell you he was happy to be in bed with you. Hell, he didn't even need to say anything if he didn't feel like it.

In the darkness, you blinked a few times. Your head shook and you rolled away from the fantasies of your late-night conscience. Who could ever truly know what Joe wanted? Certainly not you. He had his thoughts, and you had yours.

That night felt like the night where if a move could've been made, it would've been made.

It should've been made.

Wasted time, you thought. Maybe that's all tonight was; a missed opportunity, and wasted time. Just when you speculated things might have been getting down to the bone, you began to think too much, and an idea crushed you: what if you were just another hopeless maniac who wanted to get your hands on the lead singer? Anyone with an outside perspective would have most likely seen things that way.

You didn't feel like that, though. You knew what you felt.

Maybe you were just another crazed fan, and maybe Joe was just another rocker out of your league. Even if that were so, that didn't mean your feelings for him were fake.

Maybe Joe wasn't even the man of your dreams... but god, you still needed him so badly that night.

----

Joe lost track of how many times he'd tried falling asleep. Each and every time, he was interrupted by a flood of your imaginary presence. With you threatening every inch of his mind, he almost wanted to march down the hallway and take you back with him. Dare he say, he needed that. It was such an intense longing, he wanted to beat his arms against his bed and exert it all away- just to make it stop.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the energy for that right then. He felt like he was trapped in a dream he was unable to be woken from. Any second now, he hoped, he'd wake up and realize he'd made it through this dream-like temptation.

For a fast second, his conscience labeled you as "dreamy."

Joe shook away the label, rolled onto his side, and resumed his fantasy. There wasn't just a craving for your presence; there was a starvation for it.

As far as your previous interaction went, there were a million more things he thought of to add onto it. He didn't want that evening to stop- not then, not ever. He wanted more from your time together. He didn't just want vocal reassurance; he wanted physical reassurance. Joe wanted to experience every soft part of you cushioning him while he slept. He wanted to feel your hair frazzled against his skin. More than anything, he needed a tender touch from you- any tender touch from you. You were a reminder that tenderness still existed, and that tenderness still cared about him. Joe's eyes opened in the darkness, and he audibly sighed as the fantasy was broken. He didn't know if you desperately cared about him like that; he couldn't read your mind. Who could ever truly know what you wanted? Certainly not him. Just like Joe currently trapped in his own universe, you had a world of your own down the hall. These worlds felt like perfectly matching puzzle pieces when they collided- especially hours before. It would've been easy for Joe to make a move. In fact, it wouldn't have just been easy; it was probably expected from you. If there was any right time to make it move, it was that night for sure.

But Joe didn't do that. Instead, he wasted time regretting something he didn't do. Things seemed as if they were looking clearer to him. He finally reached the extent of how badly he needed you in the dead of the night, yet also felt you were getting further away. Perhaps he was overthinking it- but that sense of failure was overwhelming and true. He blew it; plain and simple. You'd definitely peaked in your friendship that night, and to Joe, that meant it was only downhill from there. He didn't want that.

He didn't need another thing to regret. He didn't need another reason to not march down the hall and somehow ask you to stay with him for the night. He didn't need another hour of heartsick insomnia.

But god, he needed you so badly that night. Maybe he needed you just a little bit more. -----

You were starting to rationalize that you weren't going to get any sleep. The best you could do was lay facing the ceiling and hope to fantasize yourself into slumber. If one thought could lead to another, perhaps it'd be pleasant enough to lull you to rest.

A few lovely fantasies rolled around in your head. First, it was Joe suddenly showing up right then and there, sweeping you off your feet, and kissing you deeply. Second, it was you going over to him and pulling him down onto your lips.

That aspect of your midnight brain struck you as strange. You'd never thought too much about kissing Joe before. Although thoughts about kissing were expected from romantic tension, it wasn't something you actively desired. It wasn't as if you normally thought about Joe's lips- how soft they might be, how gentle he might use them, how not gentle he might use them, or how he might make them dance on other parts of your body.

It wasn't like thinking about those things kept you up at night.

After that, the third fantasy that came your way was waiting until morning to try and rekindle the spark you and Joe created not long ago. Maybe approaching him and trying that would go over well.

Instantly upon registering the thought, you draped your forearm over your eyes with a scoff.

No, that would horribly awkward. The fourth fantasy, you decided, was a more reasonable course of action. What you would do was wait.

You'd wait however long you needed and let things run their course. While it was painful to think of, you concluded that maybe not touching anything would make things better.

While it was rational, that option sounded the least realistic.

Or, maybe, I should just sleep on it. A loud sigh floated from your mouth at the idea. You wanted to be put out of your misery in order to get away from this certain heartache. While you were half-decent at handling your problems, you weren't a miracle worker.

-----

Joe was staring at his door now. He had accepted that he wouldn't be getting any sleep. The best he could do was lay facing the door and hope he'd come up with a course of action to end his suffering and heartache.

His mind wasn't working like yours. There weren't multiple fantasies for him to dwell upon in order to lull him to sleep. There weren't several options floating around in his head. He was stuck, he was antsy, and he was impulsive. Into his mind came only one option, and, unfortunately, it stuck to him. To his disbelief, it was a realistic course of action.

Joe smushed his face into his pillow, sighing loudly. Being tired didn't just make you fantasize more, and he knew it.

Being tired also made you completely, undoubtedly, one-hundred-percent honest. Paired with his impulsive conscience, he had a perfect recipe for humiliation. The worst part of it: he didn't care. Well, she's probably just as tired as I am, he reasoned with his twilight mind, Would it really be that big of a problem? -----

Knock, knock. knock. Naturally, your brain whispered Joe's name the instant you heard a feeble noise in the hallway. Your heart instinctively leapt, but just as quickly, your mind shot down the possibility of him crashing through your door and declaring his intense mutual longing. Perhaps you were truly exhausted now, and had hallucinated the noise to begin with.

Your arm was still over your eyes when there came proper knocks at the door. A startled gasp flew from your mouth. In a wink, you were sitting on the side of your bed and staring intently into the blackness.

"Y/n?" Joe's voice gently seeped through the door. Your eyes lit up, and your heart began to tremble within you. Turns out this isn't a fantasy after all. A hand reached over and turned on the lamp, and you'd never thrown on your robe so fast in your life. Joe was there- he was there for real. "Coming," you cooed, not even thinking of fixing your appearance. None of that mattered; what mattered was getting to the door.

You carefully twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open. To your continuing surprise, your tender, 6'2", long-haired, warm-blooded Yorkshire gentleman was standing there. He was in his own robe- his rather short Union Jack robe, if that- and hadn't bothered to fix his appearance in any way at all either. As if you were looking in a mirror, you noticed how tired he seemed all over.

"Joe?" you made your surprise apparent, "What's wrong?"

Honesty, Joe said to himself, Honesty is what's wrong. "I can't sleep," he spoke with such sincerity.

You didn't hesitate to admit, "Me neither. What's got you up?"

Joe did hesitate at first.

"Oh, just- you... and everything we talked about. The gears are turning and I'm- so stressed."

He ran his fingers through his messy hair and faltered before tagging on, "I just wanted to ask you..."

You made your attentiveness clearer. You thought to pinch yourself in order to make sure you were conscious. What could Joe possibly say after seeking out your presence in the middle of the night, only to admit he couldn't stop thinking about you? Your fantasy, perhaps, may have been becoming concrete. If that was the case, you wanted to fulfill some of it yourself. "Would you wanna stay the night?" you both asked in sync with each other.

Each of you were taken aback, and giggled to yourselves as you avoided the other's eyes.

"We think too much alike, you know," Joe shook his head.

You stepped aside, inviting Joe into your apartment.

"I know."

With a twist of the lock, you felt no need for your silly fantasies anymore. You wiped away your stupid grin, and joined Joe on the mattress where he sat.

"I hope I didn't wake you," Joe apologized, "Even if you were having trouble sleeping. It's just- how was I supposed to sleep after an emotional roller-coaster like tonight?"

You sensed his emotional stress, and reached out to sloppily fix his hair from his face. His eyes bashfully darted away from you and looked down at the bed. "I know, I know. That's exactly why I couldn't sleep, either. My mind's all shook up; rattled around."

Your hand ruffled his hair, unable to keep yourself from showing him affection.

He silently laughed while masking the shiver your touch sent through his body.

Joe rubbed one of his legs and went on, "I can't stop thinking about past versions of ourselves. I feel like we could've prevented this whole fucking mess somehow. I feel... I don't know, guilty? And it's keepin' me up..."

While you were paying attention to what he said, you were paying more attention to his body language. Joe was being shy. Everything about him was oozing shyness. It was so out of character for him, even if he were half asleep. He was fidgety and avoiding eye contact with you. Even his choice of words sounded cautious. Not only that, but as soon as you seated yourself by him, there was a definite blush on his cheeks.

It was as if something had changed, but you don't know what. He almost looked like he was trying to be small. Joe's fingers traced shapes on your blanket, "I know things were never meant to be easy, but now things are getting impossible, you know? Like we had one shot and-"

His hand accidentally brushed against yours. The sound of your hearts dropping together was as audible as a gunshot. If he had suddenly taken your hand, it would've been less intimate than such a subtle gesture.

To cover up his accidental action, Joe did take your hand instead.

"-and it's like we blew it."

You could feel his quick pulse through your hand. There was no hiding he was nervous, now.

You other hand was placed on top of his. With a sympathetic smile, you looked at his blushing face and told him, "You didn't blow it, Joe. We're all in the same boat, and it's okay to have doubts. You guys are gonna have your second chance and I know it." He rolled his eyes in thought, still avoiding your look, "Maybe we're not good enough for a second chance..."

His hand was taken away shyly. Joe finally looked at you, but dashed his eyes away instantly.

"Oh, honey..."

Your hand sought him again, reaching out and cupping his cheek so he would look at you. Instead of speaking further, you leaned in and wearily planted a tired kiss on the opposite side of his face. "...you know you're worth it." your voice softly hit the side of his face. Before you could think of a way to pull back and move on with the conversation, Joe went completely rigid. Without thinking, you froze, too.

The magic was back- you both knew it. This was what you needed to get through the night.

You held yourself there at his jaw for a second or two, then carefully drug your lips over the side of his face, only stopping when they met his own. There was no other fitting action at that point; no other appropriate thing to do besides giving him a real kiss. Joe turned his head slowly, closing his eyes and complying with the sealed embrace. It seemed the thought of his lips were keeping you up at night after all. You both kept your eyes shut when the kiss ended. The dreamy sensation had captured you both; magic, indeed.

"Seems to me like we got a second chance tonight..." you whispered close to his mouth when your eyes fluttered open. Joe was now blushing even more strongly than just a moment ago.

He exhaled in surprise. The unexpected kiss had taken his words (and his breath) away. "Oh thank god, Y/n... I've been waiting so..." instead of saying something, he leaned in again to softly press his lips back against yours.

There was no more starvation, no more heartache, and no more fantasies. The only fantasy to be found was the present moment; the man of your dreams, kissing you gently, just as you had dreamed of.

Suddenly, you both felt you'd found the right bed at last.

[jd-loves-everyone]

Kinktober 2020 - Day 3

➤ First Time + Felix

➤ warnings: fluffy smut :)

Water trickled down the windows, reflecting the colorful lights from the street, setting a romantic mood, despite the awkwardness in the air.

“Do you want a drink, or something?” You asked, desperately trying to break the tension that had risen between you and your boyfriend, Felix, after you suggested that you should take your relationship to the next step. He was clearly excited, as were you, but underneath it was a fear of disappointing the other and of anything at all going wrong.

"No, I'm good." He said softly, smiling at you reassuringly, before tracing a hand down your cheek as he got closer and closer to you.

His touch soothed most of your worries, and his loving gaze soothed some others, but the kiss he gave you put even the most prominent ones to rest.

Felix kissed you like he was trying to commit every detail to memory, simultaneously as if he'd never kissed you before and as if he had done it a thousand times.

As you lost yourselves in the kiss, Felix slowly guided you towards the bed which was against the window, creating a picturesque setting with the rain tapping against the glass and casting shadows over Felix's features as he laid over you as you broke apart.

You slowly took each other’s clothes off, nevermind if anyone could see inside your window. You blushed as Felix admired your bare body while you did the same to him while sitting on your knees awkwardly in front of each other. It caused a pretty pink blush to dust Felix’s cheeks under his beautiful freckles.

You tried getting comfortable for some minutes, awkwardly giggling as you rearranged your positions various times, before settling with you straddling Felix’s hips as he laid back against the pillows.

Not what either of you expected initially but comfortable nonetheless, plus, who got to say how one’s first time should go?

And so you placed yourself over his cock, panting slightly while nervously chewing on your lip.

“You ok? We don’t have to do this right now, you know?” Felix asked carefully, so attentive even though it was also his first time.

“I’m ok. Let’s do this.” You said quietly, more to yourself, before you slowly sat on his cock.

The rain continued to patter against the glass as your breathings became heavier at the sensations.

“Are you ok?” You asked, checking in while softly brushing his soft hair out of his flushed face. His eyes were hooded enticingly, lips parted to let air through while he gazed up at you with dilated pupils from lust but also love with the way he gripped your hip, as if afraid you’d disappear and the moment would end.

He nodded, giving you a squeeze and a smile before testing the waters by moving his own hips slightly. This made you squeak in surprise and whimper at the way his cock nudged your walls which hugged him so tightly. The resulting clench of your pussy drew a moan out of Felix, making his hips snap upwards into you.

And so it continued, your movements were simply fueled by instinct and need which made them sloppy and rushed but you couldn’t have been more pleased and judging by Felix’s sounds, he was more than satisfied.

But the lack of experience also cut the situation shorter than expected as both of you couldn’t hold back your releases at the new and overwhelming sensations brought on by each other’s bodies.

You arched your back, face towards the ceiling as you panted. When your gaze returned to his, you noticed how he looked up at you, like some sort of goddess as he heaved deeply, eyes wide as if stunned by your beauty. All in your sweaty, panting state. It made you blush fiercely before looking away in embarrassment.

“That was... wow.” Felix said breathlessly as you laid your head on his chest.

[shadowsfascination]

Dreams

Hot. Moist. Sweat. It gushed off him while he twisted and turned under the sheets, barely awake and still under the spell of a teasing dream. A soft sound, in between a growl and a moan, managed to escape Shadow’s lips, even with his mouth as dry as a desert.

His eyes were half-lidded, continuously blinking at a rapid speed. He gasped, clasping his hands into the ball of fumbled sheets atop him as if longing to hold on to something. His sub-conscious mind started registering the stimulus of the cold on one of his legs that peeked out under the blanket. He tugged it back under the warm, somewhat clammy sheets and a inhaled with a series of grated breaths.

“Shit… This again?”

Shadow laid his head to rest on the pillow below him and stared at the ceiling in the dark. His spiky quills pressed into the cushion, the cool cotton fabric nicely fluffing against his skin. It wasn’t until recently that he noticed how everything seemed to be the same saturated colour in the dark.

Not until these dreams decided to wake me up at the same darn point every night.

He grunted. Not only did he want to fall asleep again, he yearned to dream on that one particular dream. Shadow wriggled once more, huddling in attempt to find a comfortable position to drift off again- fast. He shut his eyes and snuggled up to the pillow beside him in the bed. A muffled groan carried away from underneath it. He was already too awake, too aroused to glide back in his dream again.

Fuck!

The black hedgehog sat up straight in a bed that wasn’t his. Ever since Amy left town two days ago for her internship, he decided he’d sleep in hers, which he convinced himself was fine… She asked me to check in on her house sometimes and I know where her spare key is hidden. It’s not like I’m doing something wrong…

In the pockets of his black jacket was an unfinished joint and a lighter- almost empty, judging by its’ weight. He opened the window in her bedroom, lit the joint and inhaled the smoke. Shadow rested his elbows on the windowsill, picturing Amy’s reaction to him smoking this stuff inside her home. Undoubtedly she’d show that cute, irresistible, agitated blush spread across her cheeks.

It had been that particular look on her face that lit a romantic spark in him. He remembered scoffing himself for the very first time after tracing the slightest affection for her. She was his friend and it should’ve stayed like that. But it didn’t and he had a love-hate relationship with his feelings for her.

Part of him despised the lack of self-discipline that eventually allowed him to fall for her, but then again: who could not fall for Amy Rose?

The young woman was simply amazing; kind, brave, strong, gorgeous, honest and pure. Hanging out with her was never an obligation to him. Even if he acted indifferent in the past, it was a mere cover. He enjoyed being with her so much that the innocent one-sided crush he made himself believe it’d become, faded over time to be replaced with an overwhelming sense of… lovesickness? Lust?

Shadow had yet to come to terms with whatever stirred inside him- if he’d ever decide to stop lying to himself. He craved being with her, even if it was just as her friend. But friends didn’t look the way he looked at her, the way he saw her, the way his mind was toyed with by her.

And lately it had gotten much worse. A feeling of possessiveness grew inside him when she told him her plans for a yearlong internship overseas. Surely she’d meet new people, make new friends, go out and meet guys. Guys who’d eventually find an interest in her. Shadow feared he might lose his chance with her forever. And yet… he’d just let her go like it was no big deal, casually waving her off like Sonic had. Along with his sigh marihuana scented smoke escaped his lips.

He looked at his phone. Nothing. His inbox was unusually quiet after Amy briefly informed him she’d arrived at her destination. It made him restless and impatient.

“I can’t believe I’m just as stupid as that faker…”

That last part was what made it so ugly. Sonic had taken Amy for granted for over a decade. Shadow had gladly been her shoulder to cry on and often told her he couldn’t understand how poorly the blue blur treated her. And now he had sunk as low as his rival when what he really longed for was to make Amy his girl and walk beside her, showing her off, proud as a peacock.

He imagined pulling her into a passionate kiss, one that would weaken her knees, send shivers down her spine. One that made it loud and clear to everyone that she was his woman. Now that was a decent goodbye! He sighed once again. She should be his!

Shadow’s mind drifted off to the night before she left. Amy went home early from the farewell-party her friends had thrown her. She had excused herself by stating she wanted a good night of sleep before her journey the next day, but asked Shadow to hang out with her in the end. Just the two of them. He knew far too well she’d do that.

Something in the way she acted that night puzzled his mind. It had lit sparks of hope that she felt the same way about him. If he wasn’t mistaken, there’d been this tense atmosphere between them.

____________________________________

 “My turn! Shadow, can you hand me that?”

…

“Shadow?!”

Amy frantically gestured with her hands to make contact with a Shadow whose mind seemed to have drifted off. The introverted hedgehog got sucked into his own mind, quietly moping and pouting to himself in his thoughts about her departure.

Blinking when he finally noticed her, she was already so close to him that it startled him a little. Sucking off the tip of the joint he held between his fingers, he instantly stiffened up. Shaking a little as he watched her, he became helpless to the arousal from the image and the prickling heat that flushed through his body.

The girl looked up to him, colouring his cheeks in a deep red, her lips still enclosing the tip. He was quickly to shift his gaze away from her, feeling she’d see right through him if he stared at her any longer.

“Sorry. I was out of it for a bit.”

She didn’t take it from him. Instead Amy let out a muffled ‘U-huh’ and guided his hand to her lips again to have another pull of the joint. Without warning she tucked her arms behind him, pulling him into a hug and chuckled a delightful laughter.

“Cheer up! I’m gonna miss you too, you know?”

“Tsk, darn right, you will!”

Amy snorted at his silly reply and gave him a playful push.

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

Shadow raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, faking an arrogance that actually fit his personality quite well at times. Amy however saw straight through his act, aware that he found it difficult that she left. Despite everything they ended up being the best of friends and she was sure he’d feel lonely and bored without her.

“We can still catch up on the phone and stuff. It’s only for a year. It’ll be over before we know it. Besides, you’re gonna be busy too in the meantime. I’m so excited for you about the project you were tasked with. You always wanted to do this stuff, right?”

“Yeah, it’s something I’m looking forward to. I’ve always wanted to work with plants. I’ll get to investigate, plant and look after all these rare species the Central City’s botanical garden’s been given after the archaeologist department found this hidden, preserving millions of seeds.”

“A nice change of pace for you, after your last missions. Promise to show me around sometime when I’m back, okay?”

“Gladly.”

“Yay! Now… I need something sweet!” Amy said when a munchie kicked in. “But already I emptied my cabinets… Argh!”

“Wait here.”

Shadow jumped off the roof they sat on and walked up to his motorcycle. Amy watched him lift up the seat and grab something out the space hidden underneath it. He jumped up and pulled himself up on the gutter with two brown paper bags clenched between his teeth. A gleeful smile instantly spread across Amy’s face when she recognized the logo on them. He handed her one.

“I put another in your backpack for your trip tomorrow as well.”

“Aaah, you’re the best!”

Amy opened the bag and couldn’t fight the giddy, happy squeak that escaped her lips. All of her favourite candy from her #1 candy store in Spring Yard was in it, which wasn’t close to their hometown. Shadow must’ve gone out of his way to get this for her and he clearly put in some thought into picking out the confectionary in the paper bag. She happily stuffed her mouth with it and heard Shadow snicker beside her.

“You’re precious.” He chuckled at her.

“What? Oh! I probably look ridiculous.”

“I think it’s endearing.”

She quickly gulped it down and fake-shyly fidgeted, trying to compensate for what she thought was unladylike behaviour. In sudden confusion Amy scratched her quills. Since when did she care about that when she was with Shadow?

She then spotted Shadow unroll a liquorish-fruity roll, her absolute favourite. Tearing the paper bag as she searched for it in hers, her face soured, eye-lids dropping halfway down. She regretted she impulsively ate all the candy in three big bites.

“That’s what you get for eating them all at once.” Shadow said.

He shrugged and put the end of the now unrolled, spaghetti-like candy in his mouth with an amused expression. Amy turned around, bent over him and took a bite from the candy string, her grin turning as smug as his was before. Surprised by the pleasurable tension she experienced from being so close to him, she giggled her unease away.

There wasn’t much left of the candy string. To bite off that last piece, she practically had to kiss him. The thought spread a burning sensation through her chest. With Shadow’s heart jolting rapidly and the blood whizzing in his ears, he slowly sucked up the candy string into his mouth to see how she would react.

Don’t think too much of it. She’s just teasing me! Isn’t she? Shadow thought to himself.

Locking her jade eyes with his ruby ones, Amy leaned in a little closer. Shadow didn’t protest. Amy bit her lip for a second, but then enclosed her rosy lips around the other end of what was left of the short candy string.

He took in her flowery scent and felt her breath gently brush against his lips, their noses almost touching. His palms turned sweaty inside his gloves. Amy’s face was blazing, its’ heat radiating against his own.

He cupped his hands around her back ever so carefully, putting the smallest amount of pressure on them. Aghast and undecided Amy sat down on his lap, one hand on his chest, the other tracing the outlines of his lips.

Shadow decided to take the leap and leaned in a little closer to bite off the string when his phone loudly buzzed in his jacket, startling the hedgehogs. Amy squeaked and quickly slid off his lap, her face and ears coloured in a deep pink blush. Shadow awkwardly hid his face from her, grabbing his phone while he inaudibly cursed whoever ruined this moment for him.

Rouge: ‘Do you really think this is a good idea?’

What the-? How’d she even-? If she’s been spying on us, she will not hear the end of it!

 _______________________________

 After Rouge interrupted them, things became weird. They said their awkward goodbyes like they’d see each other again the next day. But they didn’t because she left for her internship and he went to pick a fight with Rouge. The bat was genuinely concerned about him and what it’d do to him if he and Amy kissed and she’d leave the next day for a whole year.

Even when Rouge meant well, Shadow had yet to comprehend how she’d caught onto his secret feelings for Amy and felt violated in his privacy. On top of that she should have minded her own business.

He put his joint and lighter on the windowsill and snuggled up in Amy’s bed again. With his crimson eyes slowly closing, he concentrated in good hopes the fantasy would sprang from his mind and reignite his dream.

Come on, come on… I’m at the station, where are you? You should be here!

He whispered aloud while Dream-Shadow skated towards the pedestrian-bridge that crossed over the train tracks at high speed. He jumped up the stairs, his heart wildly pounding in his chest, hurrying him forward, pushing everyone aside who blocked his way. The strangers always delayed him in so many, annoying, different ways and every time he was left no choice but to jump off the bridge as a shortcut to get to the platform in time. Although a part of him feared, a part of him knew, he’d be too late -again. A sea of unknown, irrelevant others were standing in his way. Why is it always this crowded?

‘Move! Out of my way!’

The pod had done its’ job and Shadow drifted off into a deep sleep. His gaze locked on to something in the distance, the familiar shape of the one he was after.

‘Wait!’

He clenched his teeth and sped up, screaming to the strangers to make room for him, but his cries fell on deaf ears once more. The empty voices of everyone out here muted his screams before they could reach her.

‘No! Not again! Please! I must…!’

Shadow never seemed to get closer to the train he tried to reach before it’d fare away, even when he was skating towards it at full speed. It drained him, sending stinging pains to his sides, but he never got to it. Like his feet were glued to the ground. Soundless, hoarse, growling cries leaving his throat as the train departed and the crowd suddenly vanished, like it had never been there to begin with.

‘WAAAAIT! YOU HAVE TO WAAAAIT!’

He never mastered control over the rotten feeling, even when he knew it always ended the same way. The fact that he didn’t make it, didn’t reach her, never was fast enough… It was mortifying for him. He was the fucking ultimate lifeform and he didn’t deliver.

He pounded his fists into a brick wall and growled like a beast. His muscles trembled from the impact as he watched the train disappear into the distance. The thought of chasing it tempted him for a second. He let the thought pass on and slid down against the wall, scouring his back to the raw structure and sharp chunks of stone in it. He bled, but didn’t bother. Shadow’s chaos energy always healed him so fast that hardly anything was an actual threat to the ebony hedgehog.

He let his dream counterpart stroll over the platform of the train empty station. It somehow was always empty at this point in the dream. The sun stood low, casting soft beams of light in magnificent deep oranges, reds and yellows, painting long, dark shadows behind objects blocking its’ reach. Shadow sank down on a black, metal bench on platform 3-b, its’ many thin metal lines pressing into his skin. He rested his head on his hand, curling up to a ball.

‘I’m so stupid! So DARN stupid! I should never have let you leave like that!’ He cried. ‘And now you’re gone! ARGH!’

The powerlessness and anger inside the black male came crashing out of him when a chaos sphere ignited from his hands. It destroyed the tracks with a shrieking bang, curling up its’ irons.

‘I thought you were different, Shadow.’ crawled up a voice from behind him.

Dream-Amy’s voice scared him wide awake. His muscles soured, adrenaline rushing through his veins, his breathing irregular and his phone buzzing under the pillow. The disappointed tone in her voice hurt him badly. He seized the phone with trembling hands.

Amy!

Suddenly only seeing her name on the screen made him scared as never before, but also strangely excited at the same time. Nausea sprung in his middle.

Amy: ‘U awake?’

Shadow: ‘Yes.’

An incoming call from Amy popped up on his screen. He swiped it to the right to pick up.

“Why are you still up? Tomorrow’s your first day, right?”

“I went out with some people from the dorm.”

“O-kay... Did you- did you have a good time?”

“Sure did. In fact a really cute guy asked me out. We’re going out Friday night.”

All right. He knew what this was really about. She was trying to make him jealous, trying to make him feel bad about the way they parted. And it was a totally justified thing to do, but her act revealed to him that she wanted him to care. Shadow’s muscles relaxed again and a confident smile curved his lips.

“Is that so? Did you tell him you secretly have feelings for someone else?”

“I’m not in love with Sonic anymore!”

“Who said I was talking about Sonic?”

…

Shadow was unable to fight the amusing feeling inside him from how baffled she was all of the sudden.

“Well- I-! I can’t believe you just let me go like that!”

“I’m sorry.”

Amy shrieked with a high pitched voice when she heard the acoustics of his apology twice. She turned around, the phone still held against her ear to see him standing in her dorm room. In one hand he held a chaos emerald and his phone in the other.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Confessing how much of an idiot I am.” He pouted.

“Go on.”

“It was highly indecent of me to let you go like that and I’m sorry.”

Part of him wanted to confess everything to her, take the leap and come clean, but he didn’t. The repeating dream that haunted him since she left had awakened a new fear in him: that she was only fooling around with him that night. It was yet to be proven irrational. He felt it was her turn to say something for this wasn’t a one way street.

“Thank you. It’s just… That night- I thought you cared about me.”

He sat down next to her.

“I do.” Way too much actually.

Shadow leaned in on her, resting his arms on her legs, his lips close to her ear. He closed her in between the wall behind her and himself in front of her only to whisper: “In fact, I don’t like that you’re going out with someone if that someone isn’t me.”

Amy let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She tilted her head and unintentionally tightened her grip on Shadow’s chest fur. Her lashes softly tickled on his muzzle when she blinked. His musky scent and flirting intoxicated her senses. He levelled with her to catch her gaze, internally screaming from how hot she looked in what he realized was in fact one of his sweaters.

“Heh, here I only thought I had the hots for you, but it seems I was wrong.”

He pulled her closer by the cords of the sweater. Slowly he closed the remaining distance between them, softly pressing his lips against hers.

“So wrong!”

Amy smiled against his lips and straddled him, clamping his legs between her own, before passionately pouring into the kiss.

Chaos! I wanted this for so long!

_______________

AN: This one’s long! I decided to care less and just write and draw whatever I want, trying out new styles. Here goes...

Shadow and Amy are both adults here. Where I live smoking marihuana is tolerated.

Like always: send me a note for annoying typos, grammar mishaps etc. 

[bunnyywritings]

 you weren’t supposed to hear that

tendo satori & ushijima wakatoshi x reader

𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 - 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 - 𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕥

[a/n:warning: things get a little 18+ but here’s part 2 of not a love triangle, enjoy! sorry for the wait ❣️ -yours truly, bunnyy  -`ღ´-]

Over the past couple of weeks, it seems like the dynamic between the three of you had shifted. Ushijima had stopped hanging out with you guys more often and just seemed to spend less time with you. To say that you were hurt was a bit of an understatement. He seemed to have no problem hanging out with Tendo but if you were there or suddenly joined them, he miraculously had “something to do” and would leave.

Even the team noticed that you seemed a bit less energetic lately, that you weren’t joking around with their ace or middle blocker as usual. You had been zoned out while they played a match among themselves.

“(Y/n)! Did you see that?!” Te excitement in Goshiki’s voice snapped you out of your daze. You looked up to see his excited smile, eyes shining as he looked at you expectantly. Your heart melted.

“Of course I did! Good job Tomu!” You had a proud grin on your face as you softly ruffled his hair. “Keep it up and you’ll surpass the ace in no time!” At your words, he blushed but accepted the praise and head pats. Tendo was surprised to see how quickly and easily your facade changed, the smile on your face not quite meeting your eyes but convincing enough that no one seemed to doubt it.

Once practice was over, Tendo was waiting for Ushijima to finish gathering his stuff.

“Don’t you think (y/n)’s been acting a bit strange?”

“Hmm I haven’t noticed.” Tendo’s head tilted in confusion seeing as Ushijima tensed up when he answered.

“You know, you’ve been acting a bit strange too Wakatoshi. It’s almost like you’ve been avoiding (y/n).” At the mention of your name, you stayed by the door. You had returned from the bathroom and came to lock up, not expecting anyone to still be in there.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I avoid her?” Even if he seemed to be stoic at times, he was a terrible liar.

“No I think you are. Why would you be doing that? I thought you liked her?” Your heart started to beat erratically in your chest.

“Of course I like her, she’s our friend.” This resulted in an exasperated sigh from Tendo.

“Geez Wakatoshi, as more than a friend! I’m starting to think that you’re just pretending not knowing what I mean. I mean, I know you like her as more than a friend. Just admit it.”

There was a tense silence between the two, deciding that you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, you turned to walk away but froze when Ushijima spoke up.

“Of course I don’t like her as more than a friend.” Your heart dropped. “She’s our team manager and friend. That’s all I see her as. I can’t even imagine being in a romantic relationship with her.” Tears stung your eyes as you struggled to breathe. It was the way he said it that made your heart ache in your chest hard to bear as you turned and ran to the dorms.

“A little harsh, don’t you think Wakatoshi?”

Once in your room, you slammed the door shut and slid down it. Sobs wrecking your body. He didn’t like you...you were just the team manager. Just a friend. He had also purposefully been avoiding you... it was times like these you were grateful that you didn’t have a roommate. After the tears subsided, you grabbed your phone.

To: chicken tendo 

- Can we go on a drive today?

- yeah, for sure. You wanna invite Wakatoshi?

- no. just us please, and bring your stash...I’m feeling like having a smoke sesh tonight

- I was thinking the same ;) meet me in the parking lot after curfew check

You took the opportunity to take a shower and change into some spandex shorts and a nekoma team sweatshirt. You waited a good 15 minutes after the check before sneaking out and into the parking lot. Friday checks didn’t take too long cause most kids would go home and stay with their families for the weekend. Some, like you and Tendo, stayed at the dorms.

“Took you long enough~.” He smirked. He was leaning against the driver’s side of his car. He was in some grey sweats and a black t-shirt.

“I just wanted to make sure I was in the clear.” You shrugged, making your way to the opposite side of the car as the both of you stepped into the car.

“So anywhere specific you wanna go?”

“Literally anywhere. We can get food later.” You sighed as you put on your seat belt.

He nodded and we went to the usual spot. And empty parking structure a few minutes from the school. It was for a grocery store and it had no security. It was quiet as he drove, the only sound was the quiet indie music playing through the speakers and the hum of the car.

“So what’s been bothering you so much?” He asked as he put the car in park. It was unbelievable, how well he knew you. With a sigh, you opened opened the glove box and pulled out the little tin box and lighter.

“Is it really that obvious?” He rose an eyebrow at your muttering, watching as you pulled an already rolled blunt from the tin box and placing it in between your lips. You handed him the box and lit the end of it before inhaling the calming toxins, welcoming the burn in the back of your throat. He did the same before turning to you, anticipating your answer.

“I don’t like being ignored, Tendo.” His eyes widened as you leaned back into the seat, smoke slowly billowing out from in between your lips. That’s when he realized. “It makes sense though.” You took a second, longer hit. “If he doesn’t have feelings for me, it’s probably best to stay away until it goes away,” He couldn’t tell if the reddening of your eyes was from the weed or tears filling your eyes.

“You heard us?” You nodded, turning towards the open window and exhaling. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” He felt guilty.

“I know I wasn’t but I did.” You shrugged almost nonchalantly, bringing the joint between your lips once more. “Maybe it’s for the best. It’s probably better if he never finds out.” The conversation left on a slightly awkward note as you reached forward and turned the nob on the radio to change the station, fiddling with it before leaving it on a station that regularly played some type of rnb music. You didn’t want to hotbox the car so the two of you sat there, doors open and music playing. The cold breeze nipped at your cheeks as you thought about something.

“You know, maybe I’ve been missing something.” Tendo’s head snapped to you at the sudden sound of your voice. “Maybe I’ve had my eyes on the wrong person...”

“What do you mean, (y/n)?”

“I mean, maybe the reason I’m having a hard time getting to Wakatoshi is because...I’m not meant to.” You were frowning.

“Maybe that’s enough of that.” He reached over and took the half-smoked blunt from your fingers and put it out, deciding to put his out too. “Don’t overthink too much, he’s just dense. You know that.” You didn’t seem too satisfied with that answer.

“Have you ever thought about it?” You whispered.

“Thought about what?”

“Me.” He was take aback at the way your pupils were blown out and they seemed...darker than usual. He opened his mouth but he was too slow. “In any other way that wasn’t platonic...” He couldn’t lie, he had thought about. “Because I have. More often than I’d like to admit.”

“I may have thought of it.” He bit his lip. He was conflicted. This definitely wasn’t a conversation he thought the both of you would be having, the tension was thick and palpable. You were his friend, his best friend. He looked over to you and could basically see what you were thinking. He’d wondered how you would feel pressed up against him, if your lips were as soft as they looked, and he also remembers how guilty he felt each time those thoughts had crossed his mind.

Before you could stop yourself, you had crawled over the middle console and onto Tendo’s lap. Millions of thought crossing both of your minds at what was happening. His hands hesitantly gripped your hips, the warmth somewhat comforting. Your arms were draped over his shoulders, hands tangling into his hair. He had showered before this so his hair was down, unlike how it usually seemed to defy gravity. The intensity of the situation hit you as his hands ran up your torso and to your waist. His thumbs were caressing your body comfortingly.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” You had started to move to get off of his lap but his hands kept you in place.

“I-I don’t mind, if it’ll help you forget...” Your eyes began to water as you buried your hands back into his hair and brought your lips to his, he tasted like mint and cannabis. The kiss was greedy, like the both of you had been starved. Your senses were overwhelmed, there was a heat in your core that seemed to ignite at the feeling of him being so close, so intimate. Your head felt fuzzy. Whether it was because the lack of oxygen or the blunt you had just smoked, you didn’t care. The both of you pulled away, chests heaving. He started to trail kisses down your cheek and jaw before nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Why don’t we head back to the dorms? I’m sure that would be more comfortable than my car.” You agreed and quickly climbed off of his lap and into your seat. The ride back seemed longer as you squeezed your thighs together in anticipation. Once he had finally parked and the two of you were out of the car, the high had finally settled in. You grabbed his hand and pulled him up to your room. The moment thee door shut, he gently pushed you against it. Lips back on your in a more playful kiss this time as you reached down and gripped the hem of his t-shirt, moving back so you could tug it off of his torso and tossing it onto the floor. You ran a hand down his impressively toned chest and stomach.

“What’s wrong (y/n)?~ Are you that flustered seeing me without a shirt?~” He teased as he led you over to your bed, the both of you kicking off your shoes before you laid against your pillows, Tendo quick to climb on top of you.

“You’re such a tease Satori, but it seems like you’re more flustered than I am.” You bit back a chuckled as you motioned to the painfully obvious bulge in his sweats.

“Well, we’ll see about that soon.” He smirked, his lips brushed against yours as one of his hands ran down your torso and slipped under the elastic of your shorts.

“Satori-”

“(Y/N)?” The knock and familiar voice behind the door made both of you freeze. “I was wondering if Tendo was with you?” He spoke softly but strong enough to hear through the door. The man in question instantly pulled away from you which caused the hem of your shorts to snap against your stomach. You smacked Tendo’s arm.

“I though he was supposed to go home this weekend?” He just shrugged. You quickly got up and approached the door. You bent down to pick up the article of clothing on the floor and throwing it at him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“His car was still in the parking lot so I assumed he came here.” You smoothed down your hair before opening your door just a bit. 

“Yeah, he’s here.” You smiled and glanced back at Tendou who was sat against the headboard, fully clothed, pillow over his crotch and phone in hand. “Wanna join us?” You asked nervously as you opened the door wider and stepping aside.

“Hey Wakatoshi-kun~ We were just gonna order some take out.” You closed the door and rested your forehead against it. You were completely sober now, the shock of almost being caught was to thank for that.

What just happened?

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 (still open): @elegant-gypsophilia​, @inlove-maze​, @prefesro​

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt76

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

That night Chloe and Marinette were at the hotel. Marinette felt somewhat guilty for the way she’d been relying on Chloe. Even now she was using her as a pillow because she just couldn’t get comfortable on her own. Granted Chloe hadn’t complained at all but between feeling useless and taking up all her time Marinette was starting to feel like a huge burden.

“I know you’re not asleep, you’re far too tense. What’s wrong?” She jumped a little at Chloe’s voice, but couldn’t bring herself to look up at her.

“Why don’t you like Barbara?” Marinette didn’t even know where the question came from. Yes, the tension had been strange but it wasn’t Chloe’s normal hostile attitude towards those she didn’t like either. She’d been planning on just leaving it alone unless they interacted more. However she also didn’t want to discuss what was actually bothering her.

“It’s not that I don’t like her…” Chloe paused and Marinette looked up to see her frowning in thought.

“You don’t know why you reacted that way.” It wasn’t a question but Chloe nodded anyway. “Do you have any guesses? Or does it feel like something you’ve experienced before?” Marinette had learned not to just ignore feelings like this. First because, with the Miraculous especially, their instincts were there for a reason and ignoring them wasn’t a good idea. Second, letting Chloe mull over a problem by herself had a tendency to blow up in everyone’s face.

“It sort of feels like the way I was with you when we were little. I think…” She paused and Marinette just waited, hugging her a bit tighter so she’d know it was okay. “I think I’m jealous that she can understand you in a way I can’t. That you can share things with her you can’t with me.” The words were soft, like she didn’t want to be heard. “It’s stupid I know.”

“Your feelings aren’t stupid and I’m glad you told me.” Marinette paused to think about the problem. Unfortunately it was something time was likely to fix. “She might have a better understanding of what I’m going through, but you’re the one here with me all the time. You’re living through it with me and that’s far more important. Assuming you don’t get sick of me using you as a horse, pillow, and errand girl before I get things figured out and can actually do things on my own again.”

“Until we figure things out. And honestly I like being with you all the time. Not to mention I actually feel needed which is really nice. I know it’s selfish but before this happened I always felt like more of a tag a long than anything else. I’ve been waiting for you to decide that you deserve better, or that I’m just a phase you’re going through. Now I at least feel useful.” That finally caused Marinette to really look at her. The guilt in her expression hurt, as did knowing that she’d missed this, probably since they started dating.

“Chloe, you’ve never been a phase and even if there’s better out there, which I highly doubt, I don’t want it. I want you.” The look of shock and hope on her face caused another wave of guilt. “What’s more I need you, and not because of my legs. Whenever I feel like I can’t do something, or like I’m a failure, you’re there to tell me to get over myself and do it. Whenever everything gets too overwhelming you’re there to pick it apart into manageable pieces. When everything is just too much, you’re there to tell me that I don’t have to do everything by myself. I don’t need you because I can’t walk. I need you because you’re you.”

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

Damian was texting Luka on the burner phone he’d bought not long after finding out Marinette was Ladybug. He’d wanted a way to communicate that his family wouldn’t have access to so that they didn’t get information they shouldn’t have. He was especially grateful for that device now that Drake was in Paris.

“Do you really have a boyfriend?” Tim’s question caused him to roll his eyes. He didn’t bother answering. No one in his family seemed to know what to do with that information though he didn’t know why. It didn’t seem to be attached to the fact that he liked another boy either. “It’s just… honestly with the way you act around other people and the fact that you’ve never really shown interest in anyone before we all kind of figured you were ace.”

Damian leveled his brother with a flat look. Once he’d started feeling things for Luka he’d done a lot of research on sexual and romantic attraction. The sheer number of orientations and vocabulary was honestly annoying to him. He understood that most people wanted to feel like there were other people out there that were the same as them, but it seemed like there were so many overly specific descriptions that it just made his head hurt. Eventually he decided that finding a specific label for what he was, wasn’t just unnecessary, but also limiting. He didn’t want to put himself in a box that would define him when he wasn’t certain about any of it in the first place.

“I didn’t realize you all talked about my personal life so much. You really should concentrate on your own rather than try to analyze mine.” Tim frowned at him but it looked more like confusion than insulted.

“We care about you, whether you want to believe it or not, and we want you to be happy. I just don’t want you feeling like you have to be with someone if you don’t really want to be.” Damian could only scoff and the stupidity of that statement.

“When do I ever do something I don’t want to do without one of you forcing it on me?” Tim actually flinched at the question. It was true though. His family had an incredibly annoying habit of not only inserting themselves where they weren’t wanted, but also pushing him where they wished with no real regard for what he wanted.

“We’re just trying to help you. You act so certain of everything but you’re still just a kid and considering a lot of your attitude and opinions were set by your mother we want to try and make you open to new things.” That just brought another eye roll.

“And you really think forcing me to do things against my will or better judgement actually makes me more open to things? Given the fact that none of you even bother to ask me what I think or feel about anything you’re just projecting your assumptions on me before making decisions about what I should or shouldn’t like or do. None of you know me at all yet you constantly feel the need to ‘fix’ me. All you’re really doing is making me less likely to try things on my own since I know you’ll all just fixate on it and then force me to do it the way you think I should.”

Tim was looking at him like he’d never seen him before but Damian just ignored him and continued texting. That was another reason he didn’t want to label himself. Everyone in his life already did it for him, no matter how inaccurate it actually was.

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[yxlenas]

No Shade In The Shadow Of The Cross

Ronan, Blue, and being in love without having sex. Established OT4 feat. the difference between sexual and romantic attraction and Oral Just Not Getting It.

Also here 

Orla asks her one day how she can stand to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t love her. It’s only when her eyes cut to Ronan, who’s sprawled out sleeping on the sofa because he got a migraine and then kind of carsick on the ride down to Henrietta, that Blue realizes what she means.

Blue doesn’t even know how to respond to her cousin, eyes darting between Ronan’s sleeping face and Orla’s raised eyebrows and the thin line of her mouth, because Orla is so wrong it’s laughable but it also makes Blue want to pull Ronan into her arms and never let go of him again.

“What the fuck do you mean?” she blurts, taking a step toward him. Ronan’s head shifts on the pillow but his eyes don’t open. Orla rolls her eyes.

“He won’t fuck you,” she says simply, “but he’ll fuck the rest of them.”

“He’s gay,” Blue snarls, “of course we don’t have sex. Doesn’t mean we don’t love each other.”

“Sounds like it,” Orla scoffs, and then walks away. Blue stares after her, completely dumbfounded, very still in her mother’s living room and very, very furious, until Ronan’s raspy, tired voice echoes from behind her.

“Blue? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

He’s half sitting up, propped on his elbows, face still washed out. Blue kneels next to the couch and presses a few fingers to his cheek, watching as his blue eyes lose some of their tension. He’s way less clammy than he was when they first got there, and he looks as well rested as Ronan ever looks. Blue wiggles her way onto the couch and coaxes him into laying back down in her lap, carding her fingers through his hair.

“Just my bitchy cousin,” Blue mutters, tugging at some of Ronan’s hair. Part of her wants to cry, part of her wants to follow Orla through the house and shout at her about the difference between sexual and romantic attraction, part of her wants to drag all three boys into her bedroom so that someone can fuck the frustration out of her and the other two can watch and get each other off.

“You have so many cousins,” Ronan yawns, turning his face into her stomach, “so you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Shut up, Lynch,” Blue says.

It makes Blue feel sick for hours, long after they’ve eaten dinner and gone to bed. Ronan and Adam are curled so tightly together Blue genuinely cannot tell where one ends and the other begins, and Gansey is still and quiet next to her, her head on his shoulder. Blue stares up at her childhood ceiling, feeling Adam’s back against her side, one of Ronan’s big hands against her ribcage, and stews.

The idea that Ronan doesn’t love her is absurd, but people seem to think that because they don’t have sex or engage in sexual activities beyond watching while Gansey or Adam fucks the other means that their relationship is somehow less than. Blue scoffs, biting her lip when Adam twitches and mumbles something in his sleep in response to the noise.

Ronan, who comes to her and puts his head in her lap when he’s too exhausted to sleep and can’t bring himself to disturb Adam, who lets Blue run her fingers through the unruly curls on the top of his head and over the shaved down sides. Ronan, who scrabbles for her hand when he’s overwhelmed during sex, because sometimes the gentleness of platonic touch keeps him from spiraling into emotional meltdown territory.

Ronan, who had spent a week calling out of work in February when Blue had the flu. How gentle he’d been with her, how patient. The feeling of his hands washing her face, watching him in Gansey’s cheesy apron making bone broth because the canned stuff was too salty for her poor stomach to take. Ronan, who presses his face into her back or chest when he gets migraines, either from not sleeping or not dreaming or not drinking water or triggers that they can’t identify. She’s the person who gives him his Aimovig injections every month, without fail, because he only trusts her with that damn needle even though her hands shake when she sticks it in his thigh.

Her Ronan, who quietly seeks out and freely gives affection. Blue thinks about the way his giant hand wraps around her little one when they’re out in public, how fiercely protective of her he can be. The way he kisses her chastely on the mouth when he drops her off at work, the care he puts in to making sure he does her laundry in a way that doesn’t ruin her less than conventional wardrobe. Ronan’s hugs, Ronan swinging her up onto his back after long, long nights at the weird clubs Gansey likes in Boston. Blue rolls onto her side and presses herself up against Adam’s back, tangling her fingers in the waistband of Ronan’s sweats.

“Sargent?”

And, in true “horrifically light sleeper Ronan Lynch” fashion, Blue’s touch jolts him out of his doze. Blue tries to snatch her hand back but Ronan grabs it and brings it to his mouth, brushing a kiss to her knuckles.

To Blue’s humiliation, she bursts into tears.

“Aw, shit, come on Blue don’t cry-” and then he’s disentangling himself from Adam and scooping Blue up into his arms, and Blue wraps her legs around his waist and keeps crying impossibly harder into his bare shoulder as Ronan starts rubbing her back.

“Shhhh. It’s okay, it’s okay- come on, let’s go downstairs so we don’t wake up insomniacs 1 and 2.”

“You’re an insomniac too,” Blue wails as quietly as she can, and Ronan presses a kiss to her head and walks down the stairs with her in his arms. Ronan sits on the couch with her in his lap, rocking gently as she cries. He presses his cheekbone to her hair and rubs the back of her neck with long fingers until she calms down enough to go limp against him, breath still hitching with the force of her breakdown. Ronan cradles her delicately. Blue reaches for him and traces absent patterns on his bare shoulder.

“Wanna talk about it?” Ronan murmurs. Blue nods tiredly, letting Ronan rearrange them on the couch so they’re laying down tangled together.

“Orla thinks you don’t love me.” Blue says, and feels Ronan go very still under her.

“She thinks I don’t love you.” It’s not a question, just a statement. Ronan’s voice is dangerously flat and his arms tighten around her.

“Since we don’t have sex,” Blue says, “She thinks you don’t love me since we don’t have sex.”

“Well that’s fucking stupid,” Ronan says, “I love you, sex or no sex.”

“I know,” Blue mumbles, “She just got in my head and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“I get it,” Ronan says, “But Blue, she’s full of shit. I am not sexually attracted to you but I still love you, sweetheart. If I didn’t love you I wouldn’t suffer through that nasty vegan place in Cambridge that you like so much at least once a week.”

Blue laughs. It’s a watery, weak laugh, but it’s a laugh, and she feels some tension ease in her chest. Ronan reaches for the remote on the end table next to his head and flips on the beaten old TV.

“Pick a channel,” Ronan tells her, and Blue has him turn on Parks and Rec, grabbing the tattered old blanket on the back of the couch. They wiggle around until they’re comfortable, Blue basically fully on top of Ronan. He’s over a foot taller than her and he’s wide enough that Blue can lay on top of him without touching the couch, and she giggles, brushing her nose against Ronan’s. Ronan rolls his eyes and snaps at her playfully before kissing the top of her head and tugging the blanket up higher.

“Tell me you love me,” Blue demands sleepily. Ronan scoffs against her temple.

“I love you. Go to sleep, Maggot.”

In the morning Blue wakes up to Ronan frozen underneath her, stiff in the way that he gets when he brings something back from dreams. Adam is leaning in the doorway smiling at them as Ronan’s body relaxes and he holds up what he dreamt. It’s a tiny, glowing stone, a perfect copy of Adam’s eyes, dangling from a golden chain. A tiny crown charm fits snugly against the stone, and there’s a black resin feather next to the crown. Blue gasps when Ronan loops it over her head and kisses her dryly, a brief press of lips to her own in that Ronan way she cherishes.

“For you,” He murmurs, as they slide off the couch. Blue can hear Gansey chatting to Maura and smell cinnamon and coffee, and stands on her tip toes to kiss Adam. Adam slips his tongue into her mouth for a few seconds until she melts against him, then kisses Ronan above her head. Ronan hisses, and Blue giggles because she knows that Adam bit his lip.

“I love it,” she says, sandwiched between Adam and Ronan, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ronan says, as they walk into the kitchen and Ronan presses Gansey up against the counter and ducks his head to kiss his shoulder.

“Good morning, Jane,” Gansey says, disentangling him from Ronan and shoving him toward Adam good naturedly to get a hand on Blue, “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Blue says quietly, as Gansey presses a mug of coffee in her hand and she touches her new necklace with the other, “Yeah, I did.”

[becca-becky]

when one door closes, fortune will open another

Relationships: Anxceit, Loceit, Moceit, Roceit, Demus. Can be seen as platonic or romantic for literally any of them if ya want, go nuts (although Roceit is probably the most romantic coded, tbh)

Summary:  i.e. four times a side knocked on Deceit's door to ask him something and the one time Deceit knocked on the door of another to apologize.

Warnings/Notes: There’s a bit of crying, this fic mostly revolves around the aftermath of SvS Redux, Remus talks about a unicorn bleeding to death like, once and I think that’s primarily what you need to know? (lemme know if there’s anything else)

Also on Ao3!

*+*+^+*+*

I.

Loud, erratic knocking on his door startled Janus out of his reading. It was only a few hours since he had dealt with the aftermath of the wedding, what now? Cautiously, he put his book down on his couch and strolled to his door. Opening it, he was confronted by Virgil at his doorstep.

Virgil erupted with outrage at the sight of him, "Janus, I'm going to ask you this once and only once: what the fuck did you do to Roman?!"

Janus hummed non-commitantly, tightening the grip on his door handle, wishing he could just retreat back into his room and stop this already ruined discussion without the risk of Virgil breaking down his door and continuing it.

But Virgil persisted, "No, seriously. What the hell did you say to him to the point where he's fucking crying in his room and won't even talk to Patton?"

Janus raised an eyebrow at that, "I mean, it makes sense, since Patton sided with me on the issue and Roman... well, didn't,"

Virgil's face twisted into a scowl, his hands clenched into fists and quivering at the tension, "And are you going to tell me what that issue is?"

The look of genuine surprise that took over Janus's face visibly confused Virgil, but once again, he continued.

"Like, not even Logan's telling me what's happening. He's holed up in his room and I don't even know where Remus is because at least Remus tells me what's going on, even if he acts like an ass when he does-"

A single, gloved finger to Virgil's face cut him off.

Virgil stared at him impatiently as Janus collected his thoughts at the... implications of what he's been informed of. "To summarize the whole ordeal would take far too much time for my taste, but I'll give you the backbone of it. Patton was acting... a bit out of his depth with how Thomas reacted to the wedding, there was a discussion of ethics and selfishness and whether it's a good idea to do things for yourself, and somewhere in the mix, while I was advocating for my side of the argument, Roman... insulted me, I said some things that I regret as well and now we're all caught up,"

Virgil snorted, "Wh-what, did Roman make fun of your coat or something-?"

Janus took a breath, "Roman made fun of my name when I gave it to them in a show of honesty." Janus confessed, squeezing his clasped hands that were behind his back.

Virgil stayed silent, staring at the floor, "And what did you say?" He said with an almost soft tone, looking at him for an answer.

Janus cleared his throat and muttered, "'If it wasn't for the mustache, Roman, I wouldn't know who was the evil one,' or something akin to that,'" Janus pointedly looked at Virgil's forehead as Virgil gazed at him.

A silence stretched after the words were spoken. Janus, sighing, turned to close the door to his room and finally get out of this conversation, but Virgil put his hand on the door and pushed it back.

"I-" Virgil started, "I'm sorry,"

Janus chuckled to himself tonelessly, moving the door back so then Virgil didn't break it by accident, "You didn't say it, Virgilius, you have no reason to apologize,"

Virgil's nose scrunched at the use of his full name, "But-"

"No, Virgil, if someone would like to apologize to me, it would have to be from the man who called me a middle-aged librarian,"

Virgil's eyes widened with confusion, "That's the insult he said?"

"Yes," Janus affirmed, pulling at the rim of his glove. "Well, part of it," He added after a beat.

Virgil frowned. "Oh,"

Janus hummed again before responding, "Now, Virgil, if you expect me to stay out here and chat all night long, you would be sorely mistaken. I trust that you'll be going now?" He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

Virgil rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, see ya later, Jan,"

Janus huffed at his long hated nickname and closed his door, assured with the padding of feet moving away from his room, he wouldn't have to push Virgil back to his room (it would be a first, Virgil didn't like to visit often if he could help it)

Picking up his book, Janus settled back on his couch, safe in the fact that Roman would probably be fine.

II.

But, when the knocking came again early in the morning when Janus was asleep , he had a feeling that this might become a common occurrence. It couldn't have been Virgil, however, the knocking itself was too soft for him, like the person on the other side of the door wasn't accustomed to going to the 'Dark Side' of Thomas's mind, especially at this hour.

Struggling to get himself out of his warm, comfortable bed, he flicked on the lights and made his way down to the door.

Hesitantly, he opened it.

"Logan?" Janus asked incredulously, rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing anything. Still, ever persistently, Logan stood at his door, looking barely put together.

Logan nodded his head stiffly, "May I come in?"

"Of- of course," Janus leaned away so Logan could enter, closing the door behind him.

Logan took in his room, looking around him. Janus tried to see his room from Logan's perspective. There was a bookshelf stuffed with books on a wide variety of topics in the corner, just next to his couch. His couch had a few fluffy pillows on it and a blanket that Janus thinks Creativity made him way back when carelessly tossed on it. A hat stand was by the windows with a small tree next to it on a little stand by the only window with the shades down, revealing the inky dark sky. There was a mirror behind the TV. The TV and the staircase had a desk in between them, a variety of pens and stationary decorating it with his laptop front and center. With the dim, warm lighting and ignoring the heat lamps, it was rather nice.

Logan moved to sit silently on the couch, trying not to take up too much space. His shoulders were tense but he looked at Janus steadily. Janus hummed, sitting next to him.

"Janus, I'd like to ask you a question," Logan said as soon as he sat.

"Go right ahead, Lo-"

"How did you get the others to listen to you?" Logan asked, simply but effectively cutting him off. "I've... I've tried over and over again to make them hear my side of the arguments we’ve had but I fail on every occasion. So, how did you do it?"

Janus stiffened at the inquiry. He didn't know. He honestly didn't. He just said what needed to be said, advocated for his side, the others realized he was right and that was it.

"I- um, don't know exactly, if I am to be completely honest," Janus smiled awkwardly at the unintentional joke, "I just said what I thought needed to be said,"

Logan's face fell, "Oh..."

"But, I suppose one step for you would be to stop acting like you don't have feelings," Janus amended.

Logan opened his mouth, ready to defend himself with a lie that Janus could sense from a mile away, and so could his room. Lies were basically impossible to be said here. Logan tried to speak, but only mouthed the movements. He shut his mouth when Janus sent a knowing glance his way.

"Everyone loves a sympathetic character, Logan. Act like yourself and the others may begin to realize how wrong they were about you. No one likes a liar, trust me on that," Janus joked.

Logan's eyes shifted over his face, "But what if that doesn't remedy the situation? What if it makes it worse?"

Janus winced at the sincerity in his tone, "Well, then, there's nothing you can do if it comes to that, really,"

Logan's eyes watered at the statement. Janus inhaled sharply. He held Logan's hands in his own, his hands laid bare without his gloves. Logan stared at the scales on his left hand and Janus felt his human side flush.

"Logan," Logan's gaze snapped to him, a few tears breaking over his skin, "If it comes to that, I'll be here to help you,"

"Wh-why?" Logan stuttered out.

Janus shrugged, "You're Thomas's logic, you want what's good for him as well. We all do," He lifted his left hand to Logan's cheek and wiped away his tears.

Logan nodded squarely, almost leaning into Janus's touch, and abruptly stood up, "Thank you for helping me, Janus," He said, his tone stiff but his eyes expressing an overwhelming gratitude that Logan couldn't have possibly expressed in words.

Janus smiled at him slightly, "No problem, Logan," and Logan sank down and out of his room.

III.

Rhythmic knocking alerted Janus of someone at his door. He was just feeding his snake, Angie, in his bedroom and became a bit preoccupied with petting her scales. Apologetically, Janus closed the opening to her cage and went downstairs get the door.

This time, however, the person at his doorstep was Patton. He held a notebook close to his chest and smiled when he saw Janus's face behind the door. "Hi, Janus! Can I come in?"

Janus opened the door wide as an invitation and let him in, closing the door behind him.

Patton beelined to his couch and sat eagerly, right by the fluffy pillows, "Nice place you got there, J," Patton complimented, scanning the decor.

"Thank you, Patton," Janus said haltingly before asking, "Not that I'm not enjoying your company, but what exactly are you doing here?"

Patton stared at him with wide eyes for a bit until he found the words to explain himself, "I've been thinking about this for the past few days, ever since the- um, incident. I wanted to know if you could teach me about ethics and morals? If you're up for it, of course, I wouldn't wanna pressure you to do something you wouldn't wanna-"

Janus cut him off before he went on an anxious rambling session, "Patton,"

Patton perked up.

"I'll tutor you on ethics and morals," He said.

Patton's face lit up as his smile grew wide. "Oh, really? Aw, thank you, kiddo!"

"No problem, you want to become better at your job and for Thomas's sake, we need to be the best that we can be," Janus ignored his resurging memories on Roman's outburst. "Of course, I'll need to come up with a lesson plan, see how well you know the topic, and then I need to research how to properly explain those unknown concepts to you in a way where we both know what I’m talking about, but it should be doable in the next week or so,"

Patton leaped up from his seat, dropping his notebook, and hugged Janus, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," He squealed right into his ear. Janus's face screwed up at the loudness of it but hesitantly returned the hug.

After a while, Patton broke away and held Janus's arms like a vice grip. "Thank you, Janus!" He then let go, picked up his notebook, and walked out of the room, a bounce in his steps.

Janus smiled at it. He did that.

IV.

Soft bangs on his door disturbed Janus's focus on his computer. Apparently, Patton only has incredibly basic -and rather shaky- knowledge on ethics and different philosophical ideologies (not exactly a surprise). So, Janus has been spending most of his free time researching teaching methods on intros-to-philosophy. He looked at the bottom right-hand side of his screen and muttered a few choice words. It's 12 AM, he'd gotten absorbed in his work again.

Getting up from his chair, he closed his laptop and walked to his door, rubbing his dry, irritated eyes. He should've asked Logan for help, he'd probably jump at the chance to get Patton to learn that a black and white viewpoint isn't the best thing that the figment of morality should have. Janus sighed tiredly. At least he was wearing somewhat comfortable clothes. Maybe he'll just go to sleep in those.

He yawned as he opened the door, "Hello..?"

Arms wrapped around his waist, and a head nestled itself on the junction of his shoulder and neck.

Hesitantly, he returned the hug. He's getting used to physical affection, with Patton hugging him almost every day with a thank you on his tongue for literally anything Janus did for him. It was odd, but becoming common.

He looked down at the red sash and white prince outfit in his peripherals. "Roman..?" He mumbled, idly rubbing his back up and down.

"I'm sorry," Roman said softly on his pulse, his words ingraining themselves on his skin. "I'm sorry about what I said about your name,"

Janus felt blood rise to his cheek but returned the words with the same sincerity. "And I'm sorry for what I said about you being evil," He regretted saying the insult as soon as Roman left Thomas's living room. But if Roman didn't return the feeling, why should he have to confess it to him?

Roman chuckled, thin and watery, "Thank you, but you might want to save that for Remus," He let go of the embrace and looked Janus in the eye, "I'm sorry it took so long for me to come and apologize for my rudeness. I was- caught up in something for a while,"

"Let me guess, you went to Patton to ask about apologizing to me," Janus said good-naturedly.

Roman's face turned red and he nervously ran a hand through his hair, "I- um, you could say that?"

Janus felt his lips curve into a small smile, "That explains the hug,"

Roman held up his hands, waving them around unthinkingly, "I- I panicked! I just did the first thing I thought of, which was Patton's advice on giving you a hug with some flowers as a peace offering," He said it with a strained voice like he was embarrassed by going with his instincts. “I should’ve given you the flowers, hold on-”

Janus put his hand on Roman's shoulder, trying to suppress the small shiver that came out of him. It was April, yet it was still a bit chilly in the 'Dark Side' of Thomas's mind and Janus's reptilian side didn't like that at all.

"Fight-or-flight has always been Virgil's thing, Roman," Janus said idly, gazing at Roman with a welcoming warmth. "And no, I’d rather you don’t give me flowers, I’m not your prom date. Although I do hope you won't jump a hug on the wrong person, Logan and Virgil would definitely be a no-no,"

Roman huffed before nodding diligently, smiling a bit as he did, "Yes, yes, mother,"

Janus snorted, "'Mother'?"

"Padre's the dad side, and you're the mom side," Roman said, his eyes squinting in thought, "You just seem like the type of side who anyone could go to for advice," He said finally, snapping his fingers as he did.

Janus hummed, thinking back to the past two weeks ever since the wedding, "That's not too far off, Roman,"

Roman's smile widened, before hesitantly taking off Janus's hand from his shoulder and clasping it in his own. His hands were warm and calloused, light indentations in his fingertips from an instrument, probably a ukulele since Thomas picked it up a while ago, and a sword based on the overall toughness of his palm- and Janus paused his thoughts on that. Why was he thinking about Roman's hands?

"I am afraid I'm going to have to leave, Lady Juno." Roman said sheepishly, "I've got to look over the monologue book Thomas got with him in the morning to see if there are any monologues he could use for auditions,"

"Okay then, well- wait, what?" Janus's brain caught up to the nickname Roman gave him, "'Lady Juno?'"

Roman winced, "You know because Juno and Janus are pretty connected in Roman mythology and I know I normally use pagan gods because -well, duh- but I never Roman mythology for some reason so I thought I could try it out with your name and all and-" Roman cut himself off, opting to look at Janus nervously, "I- I know it's not my best," He added on hastily.

Janus hummed, "I've heard worse,"

Roman's eyes lit up like a flame to dry logs, "Then I'll come up with something better, Jan!"

Janus's face soured at the nickname, "Just not that one,"

Roman laughed boisterously before tapping Janus on the nose with his pinkie, bidding him farewell, and prancing off to his room.

Janus still stood at his door, a question mark practically sitting on his head. His face burned as he stared blankly at the floor. What just happened?

All at once, Janus slammed the door closed and actually began thinking again. He leaned against the door, crossing his arms. He was hung up on one thing (well, more than one thing, but at the moment he was stuck on that one) Roman said to him during that interaction.

Roman said '-you might want to save that for Remus,'

Janus stared at the floor, racking his brain for any sort of insult that involved Roman and Remus. The one-liner he told Roman popped up in his head, the very thing he apologized to Roman for, 'Oh, Roman, thank god you don't have a mustache, otherwise between you and Remus-'

Oh.

Remus.

+1

Janus stared up at the scratched-up door of Remus's room. The bright green paint on it was peeled, and blood, juice, and a white fluid were splattered on it. Janus never wanted to know how the white fluid got on there, or what it was, for that matter.

Hiking up his gloves, he knocked sharply on the door twice. Muffled shuffling was heard until it was paused with the opening of the door. Remus peeked over the door, his chipped nails bloodied and rough.

"Hello, Remus, may I come in?" Janus asked softly.

Remus shook his head and made a sound that was half-way between a huff and a whine, simply saying, "A unicorn's bleeding to death in here," despite the fact that Janus heard no sounds of any nature coming from his room, and also because he felt the lie Remus told, tingles and prickles being sent up his left side as he said it.

"Oh... would you mind if I just apologized out here, then?"

Remus's bloodshot eyes widened before nodding hesitantly.

Janus took a breath, "Remus, I'm sorry for what I said about you being... evil," He echoed his apology to Roman, because in a way, he insulted the two of them in the same sentence, yet in completely different ways, "I didn't mean to intend any harm, it was merely to... spite Roman because he doesn't like being compared to you, simply based on how different the two of you are. I'm so sorry," Janus almost winced at his apology. Jesus, he sounds so insincere, he can’t even find it in himself to blame Remus for not believing or not accepting his apology if he does.

Remus opened the door a bit wider and left the comforts of his room to stand in front of him, silently shutting the door behind him.

He looked down at the floor as soon as he did, his body shaking.

"Remus," Janus's voice sounded sensitive, vulnerable, even, "Please... please look at me,"

Remus looked up and made a choked up wail, pulling Janus towards him and latching onto him like an octopus.

Remus sniffled into his chest, burrowing himself into his cloak. Janus smiled sadly and returned the gesture, tucking Remus's head under his chin.

"I'm sorry, Remus, I truly am," He quietly uttered to him, Remus just gripping him tighter and wetting his shirt as a result.

Janus held Remus close as Remus cried on him, humming a simple made-up melody under his breath to try and ease him.

After a long moment of this, Remus looked up at him, snot stuck on his cheeks and tears still falling, and said, "Thank you,"

Janus chuckled, a confused smile teasing his face, "For what, Rem?"

Remus said it as though it was obvious, "For apologizing,"

Janus took a silent, sharp breath and leaned his forehead on Remus's. "No reason to say thank you for something that should have been done before, Remus," He said softly, a small smile on his face.

Remus giggled, his voice cracking.

They were going to be fine.

*+*+^+*+*

what can i say, i love some hurt/comfort

[notbang]

rethaniel appreciation week day 3 → friction

nothing but the raw deal

It takes her a minute to register her surroundings when she stirs, unfamiliar as she is with them, even if the person currently sharing their sheets with her is someone she knows almost as intimately as herself, at this point.

“Mmm, good morning,” Rebecca hums, stretching and curling into him.

She’s just in the middle of craning her neck to get at his mouth to steal a kiss—morning breath be damned—when Nathaniel wraps a giant palm around her shoulder, holding her at arm’s length.

“What the hell happened to your face?”

“Well, rude,” she says, frowning, and then she starts to get an inkling of what he’s talking about because the pull of the grimace makes her skin feel tight and hot and sore. “Ugh. Dude. You. You happened to my face.” She shifts experimentally and immediately winces, dropping back down and burying her head with a sleepy, disgruntled groan. “And apparently also to places that are not my face.”

Re-emerging from beneath her pillow, she flips back the blankets, exposing the entirety of the unmistakable path of irritated skin rising into welts between her breasts and grazing a trail across her belly and below. Her left inner thigh got the brunt of it, she notes with only some mild contortion, where the general blotchiness is already breaking out into angry little red spots.

Nathaniel, to his credit, looks vaguely horrified.

She waves him off. “It’s fine, it was self inflicted. Kinda.” He raises a disbelieving eyebrow at her. “Fine—it was definitely mostly self inflicted, based on the indisputable fact that I was the one enthusiastically sitting on your face. Not that you needed much encouragement, for the record. And not to mention that you’re, like, the one with the face of a thousand spiky deaths that inspired the enthusiastic riding to begin with.”

“You said you liked the beard!” he says, an edge of panic dislodging some of the quintessential haughty defensiveness from his voice.

“I did like the beard,” she assures him. “Guatemala looks good on you. I’m just having some second thoughts about it now, in the cold light of day, where my entire body is on fire.” She swears she sees him pale in response, so she can’t resist grabbing for her foot and teasing, “Oh, nope—see, you missed a spot.”

Expression pinched, he continues to bristle about it as he gets up and sets about collecting their scattered clothing from where it’s been strewn across his hardwood floor, and it doesn’t entirely make sense, the way this prickly back and forth with him in the immediate aftermath of their long-awaited reunion fills her with such overwhelming fondness.

Nathaniel’s new apartment is bigger than his old one, but the interior design is currently a lot less magazine spread, a lot more living out of the miscellaneous boxes he’s only recently pulled from storage. One of the pitfalls to his bed actually being enclosed in, well, a bedroom this time around is that when he disappears to the bathroom, he’s both completely out of sight and earshot.

When he comes back, his jaw is entirely clean-shaven.

“Wow. You work quick.” When he shoots her a pointed look—something distinctly in the vein of you of all people should know why!—she can’t help but grin. “Aww. You’re so cute when you think you’ve somehow ruined your chances with me by giving me the ol’ stubble trouble.”

He still isn’t sharing in her amusement—she supposes she should know, by now, that making fun of him is always going to elicit a mixed bag—so she switches her expression to reassuring instead. “Nathaniel, honestly, it’s no big deal. I’ll slap some moisturiser on it and buy some concealer for my chin. Worst case scenario, I walk with an unfortunate waddle for a day or two. Which, you know what? Is just as easily blamed on… other parts of you than your facial hair. Also, how has this never happened to you before? When I first met you the razor-sharp scruff was basically your whole look.”

“Huh,” he says, some of the tension going out of him as he considers this, last night’s shirt still hanging limply in his hand. “Guess I never stuck around long enough—or paid enough attention—to find out.”

She pouts out her lower lip and places a hand to her heart. “See? That just makes it all the more romantic that you’re here, experiencing this ordeal with me now.”

He huffs, making a beeline for his hamper.

Having lost interest in his ongoing need to channel his persistent unease into creating some kind of order from their collective chaos, she collapses back on the bed, sticking her legs up in the air and splitting them, making a pathetic noise in accompaniment but on the whole completely unconcerned with her own—admittedly unseemly—display.

“Is that really necessary?” Nathaniel asks, pulling a face. “Does that actually help?”

“Unless you plan on getting in there with some WD-40, yeah, this is what we’re doing right now. Why, you expecting guests, or something?”

He balls up her light blue underwear and throws them at her. “Would you put on pants if I were?”

“I mean, I would probably be forced to consider it, yeah.”

“Glad to hear you still have a shred of dignity intact.”

“It is hanging by an admittedly small thread.”

After a long moment of staring at her, during which she makes no attempt to decrease the degree of her exposure, a strangled kind of cough works its way out of him that she thinks might finally be a laugh.

She drops her legs even wider and props herself up on her elbows to get a better look at him. “Are you having a stroke?”

“No,” he says, turning away briefly to compose himself. “I just—You’re so—I don’t know.” His eyes slink slowly back to hers. “I don’t… know… anyone like you.”

It could just be coincidence—that she’s merely reaching the upper limits of her own admittedly measly muscular endurance—but her knees start to cave in on her a little. She sits up properly, a toothy smile blossoming across her face of its own accord. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nathaniel affirms, and comes to sit beside her on the bed.

After a few seconds of contented silence, she asks, “Nathaniel?”

“Mmm?”

“Did you just fall a little bit in love with me while I was bearing my beard-burned vagina at you?”

He makes a show of sighing loudly and rolling his eyes away from her, so she knows without a glimmer of doubt that the answer is yes. Heart bright and full, she grabs his hand in hers and squeezes, re-commanding his attention.

“Hey. I l…ike your new rug,” she says with mock sincerity, waggling her eyebrows at him when he registers the bait and switch. “Wonder what shade of red it’ll bring out in my knees.”

Nathaniel growls, making sure to push her back against the mattress by her relatively unscathed shoulders.

“You’re an asshole,” he tells her lightly, skin smooth against hers, and his voice is laced with nothing but the utmost affection.

[sugarfreecapsicle]

binding

royal!au bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1800+

A/N: I’m rusty, but I hope this is something you can enjoy! I had originally planned for this to be much longer (including smut) but I got bored of the detail I’d put in and didn’t want a reader to tire of it. Feedback is always appreciated - please forgive small errors as I use google docs and it doesn’t quite catch everything. Big thanks to @moonstruckbucky & @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan for beta-ing the very rough draft!

Within the hour, you’d become a wife, and the week, a queen.

None of your previous years of schooling and training prepared you for this. The dressmaker interrupts her last minute stitching and hemming with a hand on your leg to steady your balance. As a young girl, imagining this occasion comprised of so much more than political arrangements. Love, adoration, joy. Instead, you are shuffled from one room, one person to another, and the world blurs.

No one outside the castle, not even the court, had seen your betrothed since the war - many spread rumors that he’d already died and the king couldn’t bear the thought of losing his country, that the young soldier and prince had run away to a neighboring land out of fear while defending his own people. 

A duty to your family keeps you planted, flexible only to instruction from your new assistants. Your sister, young and frail, would be on the market as a working girl. Your mother would be devastated - her hard work in the quiet night voided should anyone of power discover her educating the poorer children. Father...well, he’s the mastermind of your marriage. Debts forgiven, as it were. But at what benefit to the throne?

Wavering at the thought, the dressmaker supports your legs with some poorly hidden irritation. You were the only woman of title who could bear children for miles, and with tensions remaining in the aftermath of war the king found no solace in the potential of his neighbors.

There’s no time to waste once your dress is done. You’re escorted to the door of the hall where music bellowed off the walls and murmurings of court carried over the banisters. Your father says nothing but threads your arm with his, a hand over your clammy one. 

A maid enters from a small door across the foyer, and by order of the dressmaker fusses over every detail one last time. The words leave you before you think better of it. “Is he kind?”

She blushes. “Immensely, Your Highness.”

The music begins to swell, large oak doors creak open, and the room stands. Your heart pounds with every step nearer, the knot in your throat bobbing and scratching. Could you sound smooth, deliberate in promising your vows? Could he be full of dread?

The prince, your betrothed, stands poised - the perfect soldier. Broad shoulders, dark velvet blue accentuates the chocolate brown hair pulled together neatly at his neck. A prominent dark metal hand inlaid with gold clutches one of flesh behind his back. The exchange of your hand between your father and prince moves slow, deliberate. The new sensation of cool metal pricks against your clammy hand, and a silent prayer asks that the hardness in his slate blue eyes is a result of ceremony rather than the prospect of marrying you specifically.

The priests words run together in baritone, the vows hardly more than white noise behind the pounding of blood in your ears. Something  in your chest stretches tightly. Vision darkens at the edges. Breaths shallow.

And then, the prince’s voice reverberates through your touch.

“I swear upon my life and my kingdom.”

You’re next to swear your vows before the gods and the court, and sweat begins to bead on your hairline at the priest’s silence.

“I swear upon my life and my kingdom.”

Rings are exchanged, (could his hands be trembling the same as yours?) your arms link, and you turn as one, the room bowing deeply followed by cheering applause. You’re both escorted onto a carriage and paraded, waving, tossing candied fruits to those around the streets.

Once paraded, you return to the castle and the pair of you are directed to a set of bedchambers, men standing guard outside. Part of you wants to believe in a higher power when there are no guards or attendees inside to...observe.

He’s staring, eyes roaming over your finery in some kind of assessment. Jaw still clenched, eyes cold. 

“If you disapprove-“

“I don’t.” Short. Effective. “You’ll make a fine queen for my people.”

Not at all a romantic.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

He bows and doesn’t give a reason for his dismissal from the room. A sob crowds the knot still trapped in your throat. The rest of your days would be spent trying to tolerate a frigid man with no love for you while trying to do what’s best for the people. 

Weeks pass with no affection. James, your new husband, is busy with matters elsewhere that keep him occupied. Not that you have too much time of your own to notice - your new role commands attention to multiple details across the grounds, interior, even some event coordinating. Most nights it’s all you can to do fall into bed and snore before your head hits the pillow. Your husband rarely finds bed before you and is always out of bed before you wake.

Some of the maids and help around the grounds provide a little solace, most with stories of his quiet action to their aid. James - reserved, a man of action, subtle, caring, kind. Give him time, they’d said. He has his reasons.

Once ready for the day, you smooth your skirts and expect to plan the first of many holiday celebrations but your train of thought is stopped. James stands nervously at your door and smiles. 

“Good morning.”

The smile broadens. “Good morning. Would you...walk with me? If you have the time.” James offers his arm and without breaking eye contact, you accept.

A sharp breeze dances in the sunset leaves, and the day new enough to glimmer of morning dew on the shrubbery. Orchids in bloom fill the air with pleasant sweetness. The two of you have hardly spoken as you walk together, guards’ eyes following.

“The gardens are beautiful.” It’s a start, you suppose. He’s trying.

“Thank you.” You grin over at one of the fountains collecting fall leaves in a pool of water. “Shall we sit? I need the sun more than I thought.”

A true gentleman, he waits for you to arrange your skirts and move to sit before taking his place next to you by the fountain. Somewhere in the trees birds chirp and sing, chattering along.

“My mother always loved the birds,” James murmurs with eyes darting in the treeline. “She insists on the feeders hidden throughout.”

“I’m sure you gave your mother some reason to hide them,” you smirk, tucking an errant waft of hair behind his ear. His cheeks flush, even his ears turn a shade of red. 

“Plenty of reason. And often.”

You breathe out a laugh and notice a page rushing over with a sealed letter in hand. So much for an easy morning.

Although you can’t get the thought of his smile, the way he grins more on the left side of his mouth than the right, out of your head all day. Plenty of your advisers noticed your distraction but said nothing. Finally, just before dinner, you settled back into your own right mind: You won’t bed him without love. You’d rather claim a mistress’ child as your own than compromise yourself. According to other ladies of the court, it happens all the time.

A visit to a nearby village is announced at dinner, and James’ parents decide the opportunity for the two of you to make an appearance as the future rulers of the country. Notorious for his solitude, you fully anticipated an excuse of important meetings from James - but once again, he surprises you with an agreement.

The scheduled visits happen semiannually, and traveling to the further reaches necessitates a week or more. By the third day, you’re not sure how you’ll remember all the names of lords, ladies and other important members of the court. Sunset warms you through the window of the carriage, rolling green hills and farmland passes by. Your accompaniment including your husband keeps quiet - the adviser sleeping, your husband keeping a watchful eye on the countryside. 

His head lifts from his hand, the dark metallic one reaching at his hip for his blade. Blue eyes meet yours in an instant.

“Stay here. Don’t leave this carriage no matter what you hear. Do you understand?” 

You nod once and remember the knife you’d stashed in a garter beneath your skirts. The noise of battle cries and swords clashing interrupts the rhythmic clip of horse hooves and wooden wheels. An ambush - assassins, spies from Hydra coming for you, or the future king, or both. 

A blink, and he’s out of the carriage with a slam of the small door. The chaos of yelling and metal on metal has you scrambling for the knife, shaking hands grasping the opalescent handle. 

James grunts, shrill iron against his arm sparking with anger, and shoves the assailant backward. Thuds of fists landing punches, knives ripping fabric all overwhelm your senses. Coppery blood even scents the air around you.

As quickly as the fight began, all became silent once again aside from crunching pieces of road and rock beneath heavy boots. A set ends just outside the carriage door - your adviser cowering in the floor.

“Princess?” James pants and knocks three times. “If I open the door, you swear not to impale me?”

“Only if you speak for yourself and not in surrender.”

Hesitantly, the small door opens, and James peers and you with a tired smile. “To you only, I would surrender.”

Once the men are settled and wounds triaged, you’re able to inspect the prince. James is scratched and bruised, a bit bloody and finery torn. Without thinking, your hands are wiping at his busted lip with a handkerchief and worry twists your expression. Most of his lip is clean when you notice a tenderness you hadn’t seen before - something in the way his eyes settle on you, in the set of his mouth, the way his flesh hand lets his fingers brush your free hand.

“I know I can’t stop you from it, but I wish you would consider the kingdom before rushing at murderers.”

“You are my kingdom,” he says a bit breathless. “If my wife commands it, I will make it so.”

His hand doesn’t leave yours the remainder of the ride home. 

That night, you’re twisting a thread on your nightgown wondering if perhaps there was more to your prince than your first impression. Meetings and duties keep him away from you for most of the day, and over dinner you catch up on what you’re not involved in directly. He keeps certain things from you - direct threats, certain uglier parts of his duty as heir to the throne. 

It’s in the quiet of night, few candles crackling, when you ask the tired man next to you, “Do you love me?”

He turns from his back onto his side and holds your cheek, “I would lay down my life for you and everyone in this country without hesitation. Do not think for one moment that I don’t love you as a king. And as your husband.”

You haven’t kissed since the wedding but his lips on yours work gently to ask permission and light kindling in your chest. He pulls away too soon for your liking, unadulterated want dancing behind the glittering yellow flame over blue. 

“My kingdom, my home, my land benefits from your thoughtful consideration. You refuse to demand more than what our staff can provide, and you have a kindness I’ve never seen from title. I cannot find nor will I look for any reason not to love you.”

[trying-write-fanfics]

Shouji Mezo X Reader part 18 Remember

Shouji passed his exams and felt the massive burden off his shoulders. It was mostly Hagakure saving the day, but he knew his courage to face Snipe had its help. He’d gone back to the dorm with the rest of the students. Satou, Kiri, Mina, Kaminari, and Sero were all nervous about what was going to happen with the camping trip. Other students tried to comfort them, but one student was missing. Shouji saw Urakaka watching the window, and found Midoriya and Y/n were training together outside. Being the background character he was, he changed his hand into an ear to listen. He pretended to watch the students comfort the failures, but was listening to the window.

 “You’re trying to be more like Bakugo with a move like that. Your landing technique might shatter your ankles.” Y/n told him. 

“When you were running around, did you roll your ankle or anything? Did you endure it?” He asked her.

“You could no doubt, mr break your arms like a glow stick, but your running won’t be as sturdy.” Y/n told him. “When you’re launching your legs, think about the back of your thigh where it connects to your butt.”

“I’d ask you to demonstrate again, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

What?

“I’ll be fine. You’ll just have to get me back to my dorm without the class finding out.”

What! Shouji looked at the window. His sudden movement got some attention. 

“Something wrong, Shouji?” Momo asked a little quietly.

“No I was just…” his gaze went to the window as he couldn’t hear the rest. 

“She came over and Midoriya asked for some training. It’s kinda admirable how much he trains.” Momo said. “I’m sure they won’t mind if you join them.”

So she was only hiding the fact she was injured not that she was there. Does he go down there and help them out, or does he leave them to their plan of not getting caught? It would be selfish just to ruin their plan for pure fun. Midoriya came back into the dorm for a water.

“Is y/n not coming in? She probably needs a water, Midoriya.” Jiro said. “I can get her one.”

“No-no that’s fine, I got it!” 

 This kid was a terrible actor. He was too nervous to expose Y/n to the class. Mina smiled at Shouji.

“Maybe I’ll just ask her to come in! We have to tell her about the exams-“ it was a ploy!

“She’s really tired-“ Midoriya said, trying to stop Mina.

“I‘ll take this.” Shouji took the water bottle. “I wanna to talk to her.”

 The girls swooned and Urakaka had a sigh of relief. 

“I’ll go with-“ kiri said.

“You will not!” Mina tackled him. 

“You gotta give them space.” Momo whispered.

“Why?”

“Shhh.”

Shouji went outside to find Y/n waiting. She was bleeding or coughing and it didn’t seem like she had a rash, but she was wearing clothes so who knows. She was just looking straight ahead. Shouji was trying to prepare himself for what backlash she was suffering from.

“Hey.” Shouji made his presence known.

“Oh- hey Shouji what are you up to?” She asked him. 

“Midoriya told me to give this water to you since you two were training.”  He held out the water bottle. 

She didn’t even look at it.

“I’ll be fine, I didn’t do much work.” She said. “Is he coming back out here?”

“I don’t think so. But I can help you get back to your dorm, or recovery girl if there was an issue with your training.”

 “Oh I’ll be fine. We can just go back to my dorm.” She told him. 

 He realized she wasn’t even looking up at his face. Was she embarrassed to talk to him? Did she actually like him like that? It was a silly thought, but it still lingered.

“Alright.”

She was not the one to walk first. It was like she was waiting for Shouji to go, so he did, and she followed. Her footsteps were copied to his. He decided to stop and she did the same. He went back to walking and she followed. 

“How was your day?” He asked, trying to be normal for her.

“Oh you know, comfortable. Better than prison.” She said. 

 Her steps were straight but going off the course of the side walk. She was walking right into a light post. Shouji pulled her to the side, again her back was pressed up against his chest. His hand was on her hip and another one was holding her arm to provide support and make the pull wasn’t too harsh. 

“Almost ran into the pole.” He told her quickly. 

“I was gonna get out of its way in time.” She lied pretending to keep her cool.

 Her heart was racing feeling his touch. She didn’t pull herself away. 

“Uh-“

“Sorry mr hero man!” She peeled herself off of him.

 Shouji faced her. He placed one hand on her shoulder, another on her hip. The moment wasn’t dying down like though. The other hip got a hand. So many hands. Then she felt one hand move her chin up to meet his eyes. Was he gonna kiss her? Y/n’s hand went to his wrist on her shoulder. She relaxed her body to prepare herself for such a moment.

“You can’t see can you?” Shouji asked. 

Oh she was about to explode. She threw her hand to her sides.

“And?” She was angry.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Shouji asked, removing his hands one at a time. 

“It happens here and there. I didn’t think it was a big deal.” She sighed. 

 “How long does that usually last?” 

“I’ll wake up fine.” She sighed. 

She looked so sad as she sighed. Her emotions were fighting over being disappointed or angry, but the girl knew she wasn’t entitled to what she thought was going to happen. She felt stupid she thought something like that was going to happen. She was wrong!  Her eyes didn’t sparkle anymore. It was Shouji’s confirmation that she did want something to happen between them. He’d be lying if he said he was completely if this was his goal. There was a part of his brain saying do something, and hoping she did like him even if it seemed weird and impossible before. That part was his heart. He went back and forth on those thoughts to. It just feels like he would be taking advantage of the situation.

“Here…” he said, putting one arm around her shoulder and the other held her hand. 

 Though she couldn’t see him, he saw her eyes widen and a smile lip curl at his action. Her smaller fingers wrapped around his. Maybe Shouji did like her, but in all honesty, kissing would be going too far right now. This was nice as it was, but now isn't the time for risks and impulsive decisions. This was already overwhelming, risky, a lot.

“Worried I’ll run into another pole?” Y/n asked calming the tension a bit.

“Yeah...I gotta use my big hero arms to prevent that.” He told her. “I passed my practical exam today.”

“That’s good Shouji, was it scary to verse Snipe? I’d shit my pants if I had to.” She told him. 

“Yeah, but Hagakure figured out what to do so I created a division.” He told her. 

“Resourceful!” Y/n shimmied her shoulders. 

 She kept talking, keeping their tension light, relaxing and fun. As Shouji looked down at the blind girl he confirmed he too liked her. She had a need to be tough and prove herself and though it could get annoying that she refuses help, it was what drew him closer to her. He liked how her fingers felt in his hand, or how his arm draped over her shoulders. And honestly she was beautiful. Yeah she was conventionally pretty, but to him she was beautiful inside and out. She stood up when her friends were rude. She had this certain magic that she could just make room for herself in your life and you would want her to stay. She rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. 

 They made it to the dorm, but their time together did not end. He was invited in. She asked for his help to pick out some pajamas from her drawer. He handed them to her and he waited outside. She invited him back in again. At first they were just casually talking about class and food they liked. Their feelings began to heat up some more again. They both found themselves laying in her bed, facing each other. They were still talking and laughing. Y/n’s eyelids were indicating she was actually tired as they looked heavy, fighting to stay open. Probably from training Midoriya.

“I think when I’m an old lady I’m just gonna have a million cats and too many pillows on my ugly floral couches.” She yawned. 

 Shouji has completely forgotten what they were talking about. He was just in bliss listening to her talk about random stuff. He decided to take a risk, not a kissing risk, but a romantic risk. He took his arm and brought Y/n into an embrace. There was no rejection in her body language. In face she curled her body more into Shouji’s chest. She used his arm as a pillow and finally shut her tired eyes. She had talked herself to sleep it seemed. He brushed her hair out of her face to see her sleeping visage better. It was that easy, huh? 

 “You know...someone as rock hard as you...you would think you’d be… too hard to….”she yawned. “...but you’re actually pretty nice to…”

His whole life he was used to being scary. He had a scary face, a scary body. Words were constantly spoken behind his back. He told himself that this was fine. But this...with Y/n was better. He was wanted, and she wanted to listen to what he had to say whether it pissed her off or not. She had one hand on his chest. His eyes went to the clock of the room. He had ten minutes before curfew.

“I gotta go.” He told her.

“Don’t let big mean Aizawa catch you.” She yawned.

 Shouji pulled a blanket over her shoulders and then ran out the door. She would at least get a good night sleep, since she went to bed so darn early. He made it to the dorm in record time, but that didn’t not save him from some of his classmates staying up waiting for his arrival. His mind was still jumbled from the events in Y/n’s dorm.

“You were gone a long time Shouji.” Mina said, pretending to act casual.

“Is there anything you wanna tell us?” Momo asked while sipping tea.

“Did you two bang?” Kaminari asked.

“I told you not to ask that!” Jirou kicked him.

“Not much happened.” He lied.

“Haning out at someone of the opposite sex’s dorm so close to curfew-’ Iida popped out from behind the couch yelling.

“But I made it on time, so there’s nothing to worry about.” Shouji pointed at the clock.

Gottem!

“I mean, you could do something juicy before curfew.” Mina said.

FUCK!

“She mostly told me about how she wanted to be  a cat lady.” Shouji said, not lying.

“I don’t know if that’s enough to satisfy us. Why don’t we invite her shopping with us tomorrow?’ Mina asked.

“Okay.”

 Shouji had his own reasons not to be so vocal about whatever this was. One, he wasn’t even a hundred percent sure he liked her, nor was he knowledgeable about dating. Two he didn’t want to get teased. Yeah, feeling like a background character does suck, but he was not ready to make a dramatic leep. 3 Y/n may not even like him back. Yeah back there she did, but it might be because she doesn’t know how to repay him. She’s rich so she would feel the need to buy him things, but knows it wouldn;t work on Shouji, and he’s a hero so he wasn’t gonna take cold hard cash. She couldn’t even see him today, maybe she was just caught up in the moment. He wasn’t worried about Y/n keeping whatever this was a secret. It would look bad if she was flirting with a student…right?