#word count: 242

[my-castles-crumbling]

gay - January 19th - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 242

Regulus is going crazy.

Well. Perhaps 'going' is the wrong word. That insinuates he isn't completely mad already.

He spends every moment thinking about the same damn question.

As he watches James laugh with Mary MacDonald, hugging her close and smacking a kiss to her cheek, he thinks about it. As he blushes while James grins at him, teasing him about his 'ridiculously cute need for leather-bound journals' he thinks about it. As he scowls, gazing at James laughing with Lily Evans, he thinks about it. As he allows James to take his hand, tangling their fingers together, he bloody thinks about it.

The question haunts him. Eats at him. Until he can't do anything but wonder and hope and worry.

So one day, as the two of them sit in the stands and talk, enjoying the view of the Quidditch Pitch, and James reaches over to tuck a strand of Regulus's hair behind his ear, he can't stop the stupid question from bubbling over his lips. Because the feeling of James touching him like that makes him want things.

"Are you bloody gay or not?" he asks almost desperately, heart beating in his throat, utter confusion coloring his tone.

But James just laughs, turning to him completely and shrugging. "I...don't know. But I like you. Is that alright?"

He blinks, shocked. "I...yes. I suppose that's alright," he murmurs, red coloring his cheeks.

The kiss that follows warms him inside and out.

[moonmicrofics]

Kettle - August 10th- jegulus - @stag-microfic - word count: 242

Regulus was sunburnt. Not how you’d imagine; your skin a little red and itchy. He was so pale he might as well be translucent, and so every inch of his body was red, sore, and bumpy. Everywhere.

“Mint tea and 6 bottles of after sun?”

James always knew what he needed. Whether it was a hair tie or after sun and mint tea -Regulus’s favorite- he just knew. It was like he was psychic or something.

He padded into the kitchen, a man on a mission. His mission? To find James and super glue himself to him.

Regulus came up behind James and tapped him on the shoulder, averting his attention from trying to find after sun in the discarded groceries.

“Yes, love?” James asked, turning around and wrapping his arms around Regulus’s waist.

All he gave in response was a noncommittal grunt before jumping up and wrapping his legs around James, causing him to stumble back a few steps.

James held him silently for a few moments, careful not to touch his bare skin. Regulus was so extremely grateful that James just holds him whenever he needs it.

Until there was a soft flick from behind them.

“Regulus, love, I need to put you down now,” James told him, moving towards the counter.

“No,” Regulus whined.

“Only for a minute, I promise,” He just held on tighter.

“I need to go to the kettle so I can get you your tea!”

—————

This one I based on a post I made about sunburnt regulus being clingy on my main blog, @vroomvroomtothemoon :)

[starlost97]

— only way.

summary: You decided to see what would happen if you pulled Jenson, your boyfriend, by the belt.

tags: fluff?, kind of sexual, Jenson Button is a simp, f!reader.

characters: Jenson Button.

warnings: a bit sexual.

a/n: speechless Jenson might be my favorite Jenson.

word count: 242.

requested?: yes! by a friend.

Jenson usually always had what to say. He was quick-witted, and leaving him speechless was something that rarely happened.

However, when you pulled him by the belt and torturously grazed her lips against his, barely touching it, his mouth formed a small circle, and there he stood, pathetically trying to organize his thoughts and say something about it.

He tried to mumble something. A compliment, a bad word, anything. But nothing came out.

So he just smashed his lips against yours, hungrily, holding your waist, feeling every inch of your body against his fingertips. He pulled you closer and closer, pressing his body against yours and getting overwhelmed with the desire you awakened in him when he felt you smile in the kiss.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He mumbled, his words being muffled by your lips, which he refused to part away from.

The belt you pulled was soon on the floor, and his hands traveled around your body. He couldn’t get enough of you, and it was pathetic how much he still tried.

He pulled the zipper from your dress down and watched the fabric sliding down your body, muttering swears under his breath. He would never get used to how beautifully sculpted your body was.

“Should I stop, then?” You breathed out. “I wouldn’t want to kill you.”

“Oh, baby, don’t worry.” He said, trailing kisses around your neck. “It’s the only way I would want to go.”

[gyuslcve]

hello sweetheart! any thoughts of wonwoo's way to kiss? like- chaste kisses, butterfly, or juicy kisses?

anw i love the vibe that radiates from this blog <3

- 🥞 (can i be ur pancake anon, tho?)

wonwoo’s kisses

genre: fluff, swoon worthy content :(

rq: by my pancake anon <33

word count: 242

reblogs, comments and feedback are appreciated !

notes: hi anon <3 and yes u can!! i have lowkey been waiting for this cause i’ve been dying to talk about this hehe

WONWOO’S KISSES

wonwoo’s kisses are slow and intimate.

as much as he loves being all over you, he’s gentle with you and there is no rush whatsoever. his kisses are nothing too crazy, but rather slow and tender.

wonwoo doesn’t mind who initiates the kiss, and somehow you end up on his lap somewhere during. he holds you so, so close to him, closing any distance between the two of you: with one hand rested on your back, securing you in his arms. he kisses your forehead, your nose and then your lips. wonwoo wants you to feel loved and safe.

his other hand is either cupping your jaw to gradually deepen the kiss with his thumb lightly brushing your cheeks, or at the back of your head, giving you all the sense of security you need.

he is so careful with you - noticing any signs of uncomfiness and he checks up on you right away. similarly, he always makes sure you’re comfy, whether it’d be straddling his lap or just simply in a hug. he kisses you so softly that it makes your impatience grow - yet you feel safe and secure.

wonwoo always, always asks before he does anything. even if his desire and affection for you is urging to take over him. he is not doing anything you don’t feel comfortable with. “is this okay?” “are you okay with this, love?”

wonwoo’s kisses are soft, gentle and never rushed. and they’re only for you.

author’s notes: reblogs, comments or any constructive feedback is appreciated <3 also my pancake anon ur request is the rq we never knew we needed!!! NOT ALL HEROES WEAR CAPES🤞🏻i was going all delulu while writing this😭 thank u anon and i hope u enjoy this <3

[m-musings]

Headcanons: The One Piece Old Men as Cutesy Relationship Things

A/N: ROGER ERA PIRATES MY BELOVEDS!!!! i cannot decide on a favorite between these three, i just love them all so so much!!!!!

Word Count: 242 Warnings: pure fluff baybee, its a lil sickening tbh

Buggy:

Blasting your favorite songs while singing at the top of your lungs together

Play fighting/wrestling (He definitely has an unfair advantage)

Doing each others makeup (obvi)

Necklace or bracelet with his initial for you to wear

Surprise hugs from behind

Making each other laugh just to see you smile

3 am walks when you can't sleep

Entertains you while you're sick

Interlocking pinkies so you don't get separated in a crowd

Limbs being tangled together while you sleep

Shanks:

Stargazing together on a warm summer night

Picnics whenever you can

Love letters sent when he's away

Long conversations about literally anything and everything

Collecting cool rocks for each other

Laying on his chest and listening to his heartbeat

Gently leading you around by the small of your back while showing you something

Giving you small gifts that remind him of you

Always checking on him when he gets hurt and vice versa

Watching the sunrise after talking all night

Mihawk:

Dancing in the moonlight just because you can

Loving eye contact from the other side of the room

Always giving you his jacket even if you aren't cold

Reading while in each others embrace

Carrying you to bed after a long day

Him taking care of your stuff when you have to go somewhere

Learns to make your favorite meal for you

Watching fireworks after a day out

Dinner dates at nice restaurants

Leaning against each other while sitting in front of a fire.

[baiwu-jinji]

TGCF author's notes translation

@/camilikha on twitter kindly provided links to TGCF author's notes and I translated the ones I find informative and interesting. See translations below:

chapter 58 notes: The second book is all about the overconfident Xie Lian with delusions of grandeur and the tender little flower (mxtx means kid Hua Cheng) and their diaries of the downfall of Xianle. Word count is undecided, I'm never accurate at estimating word counts anyway. It's just like the xianxia I write doesn't fit into your regular xianxia, the royalty I write doesn't fit into your regular fictional depictions of royalty - just the outlandish made-up worlds and social customs in the author's imagination...

chapter 60 notes: If we put Qi Rong in a modern context, we could say that he has bipolar disorder.

chapter 72 notes: about the chapter title "To Meet You in the Mortal Realm; to Find Flowers Beneath the Rain" - eventually I feel that "To Meet You" is more romantic than "To Meet Someone". Just think about it, "meeting you" is one of the most romantic things in the world.

chapte 80 notes: Of course (HC) won't give (XL) a handjob or help him [...], but Huahua's sexual awakening starts with this incident... (XL is seriously obssessed with martial arts combat!)

chapter 88 notes: Xie Lian never gets tanned, I envy him... I finally reached this place - in a dilapidated temple, a god about to be forgotten and a believer who's still young - this is the first mental image I have about this story, which drove me to wrote the story. I'm the kind of person who'd make up a whole book just to get to write a certain passage...

chapter 119 notes: Actually Huahua is just being naughty and wants to joke around playing dead, who'd have thought...

chapter 123 notes: So Black Water made his appearance long ago, he's been hanging around before your eyes all along. Wind Master never knew the real Mingyi, it's always been the same person before him - and before you readers. (Black Water) officially recognized as Best Actor of this story! I've been holding it a secret for so long and so has he, now I can finally let it out.

chapter 141 notes: If you heat up Huahua in the kiln, he'll grow bigger~

chapter 175 notes: "Hua Cheng! Your diary! We've read it all!!!"

chapter 229 notes: Huahua low-key sucking up to the elderly to make a good impression

chapter 242 notes: Why do you like to spook yourselves? - why on earth would there be such plots as (XL) waiting for another 800 years - too long, impossible! Happy ending is around the corner!

SVSSS is my first work so it has some exceptions that I won't discuss here, but MDZS and TGCF both only have one main couple. I said this repeatedly in the author's notes when MDZS was being serialized and in other places. As for Mo Xuanyu, he is a little gay dude but he died at the beginning of the story so he doesn't count as a serious character...It's fine to have headcanons you like as long as you don't seperate the main couple. But for me personally, my taste leans towards having only one gay couple in the story, and I have no plans to write about another secondary couple. I'm stating this to avoid some unnecessary disputes.

XL is good at making pickled vegetables. Because pickled vegetables are needed with steamed bun and rice porridge, so XL became quite experienced after practicing for hundreds of years. Also you can just leave the pickled vegetable by itself most of the time and let it undergo chemical reaction. XL mostly fail because he get inventive.

XL and Mu Qing chose the same path of cultivation and are both Daoists. But Feng Xin never studied under a master at the Holy Royal Pavillion so he's not a Daoist and simply a plebeian martial god, so he doesn't need to observe the celibacy rules like XL and Mu Qing.

My passion for inventing new dishes (or rather weapons) cooked by Xie Lian is only slightly less than my passion for making Huahua change into new clothes

Huahua often turn into human forms, in which he has two eyes, so you guys can stop counting the number of his eyes.

In the setting of this story, if you want to be a god,you need to be a human hero first, which means you need to be the best of the best among humans. Only heaven officials who ascended are real heaven officials and belong in the Upper Court. How do you ascend? Firstly it depends on your personal ability, you have to be outstanding in some aspect (such as martial arts or literary talents) to enter the path of ascension. Secondly it depends on luck, if you're extremely lucky and a favourite of fate, and just picked up some rare secret guides (to ascension) or immortal pills by the roadside, that works too. Officials in the Middle Court are appointed, which means someone in the Heavenly Realm could promote you to that position. But Middle Court officials have the opportunity to become a bona fide Upper Court official too if they're capable enough.

Black Water indeed owes Hua Cheng a huge sum of money and is a very impoverished Calamity, seriously lowering the income standard of the Calamities (although there're only three of them). But his debt isn't completely due to eating too much. As for the money Black Water owes, it's an ancient debt - 40% is the cost of buying gifts for heaven officials of Upper Court and planting agents there (bribery!), 30% is maintenance fee for his territory and expenses on pet food, the rest 30% is food (for himself).

Talismans are probably the equivalent of the business cards (of heaven officials)... "Hello this is my consecrated talisman" = "hello this is my business card"

You can't get rid of ghostly essence (which XL is tainted with because he spends too much time with HC) simply by brushing your teeth with plain water...you need to use consecrated spell water (which is super bitter and weird).

The weapon forged by a heaven official is called fabao (literally "dharma treasure"); if it's a weapon forged by mortal Daoists and monks, it's called faqi (literally "dharma tool") - only after their ascension can their weapons be called fabao.

In my imagination, Xianle ia the kind of small ancient kingdom that's overall culturally Han, but has peculiar customs...although I feel like what I wrote on Xianle is mostly just peculiar hahahaha [facepalm] [beat myself up]

Not only are the forms, customs, cultures, and politics of countries in this story made-up, the kind of arcane stuff like occult sciences and philosophical values are all made-up. Although I did research but the records I consulted are too difficult to understand, so I just made things up on my own. Please bear with me If you're knowledgable in this sort of thing hahaha.

Puqi refers to water chestnut.

Look up "Blood-Soaked Fire Social" (xue she huo) if you're interested, it exists in real life and is very thrilling. What I wrote is different from the traditional festival, there're some made-up elements to make it more exciting

[whydousernamesevenexist]

@rosekillermicrofic 1st May: Rose (it's actually 30th April 22:35 for me, but I was in the mood to write, so)

Word count: 242

Evan couldn't breathe. He was staring at Barty's arm. There it was, a new tattoo.

It shouldn't have surprised him, honestly. Barty was covered in tattoos almost head to toe.

But this tattoo? It was a rose. A really pretty rose. And it was on his inner arm, the left one. Near the heart.

Was he reading too much into this? Probably.

His best friend was impulsive, and this was exactly the sort of a generic tattoo that every tattoo shop has on their wall.

But Evan couldn't help but wonder if it actually meant something. Barty was driving him crazy, calling him Rosie, and then laughing it off. And now this tattoo? It's too much.

Evan smiled. "Looks nice." He looked up at Barty.

"Glad you like it," Barty nodded, his mischievous grin on his face as always. But there was something else, too. Something softer. Barty was looking for approval from Evan, and he got it.

"Let's go to sleep, Rosie. It's late," Barty yawned.

The next day, Evan went to get his first tattoo - a knife, in the exact same placement as Barty's rose.

When Barty saw it, he smiled softly, uncertainly.

He looked up at Evan and slowly reached his hand out to touch Evan's cheek.

"Rosie…" he whispered.

"Just kiss me already, idiot," Evan sighed.

Why had he said it? It was stupid, it was impulsive, it was something Barty would do.

And Barty kissed him.

[mysticalmallard]

Heatwave

Description: It's impossibly hot, and Coco thinks of a way to beat the heat.

Word Count: 242

Warnings: none I can think of

Mayans MC Taglist: @ravennaortiz

♥︎ If you wish to be added or removed from this taglist comment or message me ♥︎

Mayans MC Masterlist ♥︎ Main Masterlist

The scorching heat of the day has made Coco's apartment feel like a sauna. Sweat beads on his forehead as he turns on the ceiling fan, hoping for a small respite. His girlfriend sits on the edge of the bed, fanning herself with a magazine.

“I can’t stand this heat,” she complains, fanning more rapidly. “It’s like we’re in a damn oven.”

Coco grins, enjoying the view of his girlfriend's disheveled state. “Well, if it's that hot, why don't you just take off your clothes then?” he jokes, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

His girlfriend rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "Is that your solution to every problem? Take off my clothes?" she retorts, arching an eyebrow at him.

Coco laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm just trying to help you beat the heat, that's all." He moves towards her, the heat of his body pressing against her as he grins down at her. "Besides, I wouldn't mind the view."

She swats at his chest playfully. "You're impossible, you know that?" But she doesn't push him away. Instead, she leans into him, enjoying the closeness even in this unbearable heat.

Coco wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer. He places a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "Impossibly charming, you mean," he says with a smirk, his hands now starting to wander down her back.

[wormdebut]

Growing Pains

A little Drabble for the Stranger Things Writers Guild.

Rated a hard T (we all know where this is going let’s be so for real.) | Word Count 242 | Prompt growing pains

——

In retrospect, Steve should be scared. He should be terrified.

-

He had settled into bed tonight, content to stare at his blank walls as he does every night, since—everything.

He found himself zoned out, thinking about the myriad of ‘what ifs’ that so frequently plagued his mind these days.

What if he hadn’t left Dustin and Eddie alone? What if he had never gone back to help Nancy and Jonathan in the first place? What if he had said what he wanted to say to Eddie before he left having said nothing?

He had been stewing on that last one, as he was wont to do, when something crashed through his god damned window.

He should be scared, probably. He should be annoyed by the glass that’s now covering his floor.

He’s none of that though, because he’s staring at Eddie Munson crouched and curled in on himself, perching on the balls of his feet. He’s staring at Eddie, who looks up at him with red eyes and fangs, which—he’s not even gonna unpack what that’s doing to him.

“W—where have you been?” He breaths. Trying to process any of this as Eddie stands.

Steve feels like the world is crumbling beneath him as he watches Eddie unfurl wings. Big, black things. Sorta feathery, sorta venous, entirely hot—which—Steves not gonna unpack that either.

Eddie smirks, those red eyes glinting, running a tongue over his pointed teeth. “Sorry baby, growing pains.”

[hidden-for-reg]

july 20: response | @jegulus-microfic | word count: 242

Regulus walked out of the coffee shop with not only a coffee, but a handsome bloke's phone number and a small smile quirking his lips up.

The barista— named James— had taken the initiative to write his number on Regulus’ cup and to add a note that read: 

Text me later if you wanna go out.

-James

p.s. My shift ends at 5pm ;)

When Regulus arrived back at his flat, he sat at his desk and merely stared at his coffee cup.

What if the number was fake?

What if James was teasing him?

What if—

Regulus shook his head to shake his ‘what ifs’ into the back of his mind. Without thinking he grabbed his phone, punched in James’ number, and sent the first message:

Hey, it’s Regulus from the coffee shop.

Regulus internally screamed for the whole five minutes where there wasn’t a response, until:

Hey! This is James but you knew that already :D

Regulus typed and re-typed his reply 5 times before he settled on:

So, what did you have in mind?

For what?

You said you wanted to take me out somewhere?

OH. LOL rightttt xD

So..?

My shift ends at 5 so I can swing round yours and maybe we can have dinner at this restaurant near my flat?

That sounds great

See ya then gorgeous ;D

Regulus turned off his phone and threw it. 

He had a date to get ready for.

Oh god.

[sliebman10]

Veritaserum

“You understand, Mr. Black, that veritaserum is a powerful truth potion and you agree to let us administer it?” Moody said, meeting Sirius’s steely gaze.

“Yes,” Sirius said shortly. He was done waiting and wanted to get on with it. 

“Very well,” Moody said, Summoning the clear vial. He gave Sirius a dropper which he drank from. They waited a few moments. “Now then. Were you the Potters’ Secret Keeper?”

“No,” Sirius said. 

“Then who was?”

“Peter Pettigrew.” 

Moody raised his eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“When was the last time you saw Pettigrew before 31 October?”

“The full moon a few nights before. We met in the forest.”

“With Lupin?”

“Yes,” Sirius said. He knew he was going to give away their animagus secret. It couldn’t be helped. 

“And after?”

“After the moon? I took Remus home and healed him. I don’t know where Peter went. I thought he went home to his flat.”

Moody nodded. “And what about Lupin? Was he part of the plan?”

“No,” Sirius said. “I convinced James to switch to Peter.”

“But not Lupin.”

“No,” Sirius said again. And here it was, he thought. 

“Why not?”

Sirius sighed. “We…we wanted someone who wouldn’t be suspect. Remus was already…under suspicion because of his condition.”

“Did you suspect him of working with Voldemort?”

“No…not directly. But he went on these undercover missions…” Sirius said. “We didn’t know what he had to say or do to maintain his cover.”

Word Count: 242

@wolfstarmicrofic

[my-castles-crumbling]

torture - October 26th - jegulus - @stag-microfic - word count: 242

James was beginning to regret his own genius. As he saw Regulus arrive to the party, he had to manually work to swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth, his entire body completely freezing at the sight of the boy smirking back at him.

Because in theory, the idea of them dressing up as a devil and an angel for Halloween was hilarious. James, in his red button-down and tight red pants, with little red horns sticking out of his head, looked hot, if he did say so himself.

But Regulus, who was in a silvery crop top and barely-there white shorts that accentuated his arse, glitter covering his body and gossamer wings on his back, looked divine. Ethereal makeup made his eyes look huge and a halo hovered over his head. Shimmering stars were strategically placed along his bare skin, making him look literally heavenly, and as James stared, open-mouthed, he fixed him with such a hungry, salacious stare that James's knees buckled a bit. The contradiction of Regulus's gaze and his outfit was maddening.

"Hey, baby," Regulus purred blinking uo at him through long lashes as he stopped in front of the older boy, wrapping his harms around his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his jawline, ghosting hot breath in his ear. "What do you think?"

"This is going to be torture," James whined honestly, winding his arms around Regulus's waist.

"Good," Regulus replied devilishly, grinning and sauntering away.

[noxturnalmoth]

Literary Service

Summary: Life is a cruel mother but a great teacher. In Noxus, where life is but an afterthought, war raises its people with an iron fist. Whether they like it or not. So when one is courageous enough to escape, they learn to take all that life has to offer, even if it has to be by the skin of their teeth. What would happen if the scholarship that provided you with an escape made you encounter a man as great with his words as he is with hiding the festering wounds in his heart? And what if he was your teacher?

Warnings: Sensual content (no smut yet), violence

Word Count: 10, 242

Masterlist: here

Chapter 6 - Exposure Therapy

You were right to believe that knowing and using his name would push you off the edge of the cliff that your emotions were slowly dragging you towards. That very night was spent muttering his name as you curled up in your sheets, tasting his name on your tongue while shivers racked through your body at the smells of tobacco, cologne and brandy rushing through your nose each time you uttered the word.

Silco.

Your friend, professor and mentor. The man who saved you time and time again from yourself and yet never seemed to falter. And you were here, falling for him when he had enough on his plate that it could be described as a Piltovan feast. Piling with mounts of responsibility and work, not only on campus but in his past, and even at home. You couldn't handle the thought of being another burden for him to bear, his broad shoulders always straight yet his back was slumping from years of carrying the weight of the world, the weight of Zaun.

You really had gone and did the worse thing you could, something that you'd have to stifle deep down in your chest so it doesn't burst out, like a bouquet of flowers in bloom in the early sping. So, that night you shed a salty tears, lips tasting the smoky name one last time as you fell into bittersweet rest, disturbed by visions of a past you wished was long gone.

As much as your feelings pained you, you did not stop seeking out Silco's approval, his pride, his affections; it would've been strange at best for you to disappear after he opened himself up as he did last time. Disrespectful and hurtful at worst. And despite your fear of yourself, you were not about to abandon the most important in your life, the one person who fulfilled your soul in every way. So with a heavy heart you walked to your seat, and as Silco's voice began his usual class ritual, you felt your body relax, as if he were the cigarettes that hung from your lips so often. His voice rushing through you like nicotine and numbing your self-hatred, your fears, your worries, and only leaving him. The smokiness of his name back on your tongue and in your nose as the beat of your heart calmed, the sound of blood flowing loudly dissipating to let you hear him clearly.

"Can anyone of you tell me what was this book's protagonist's philosophy?"

Some people groan and Silco frowns, eye sharpening as it scours through the faces in the room before his eyes are trained to your raised hand and he nods to you.

"Sensualism, Mr.Marlowe." There it was again, the soft tension overtaking him, though you knew you hadn't slipped this time. No sirs escaping your warm lips.

"What does that entail?"

"Dorian Gray begins as a vain, narcissistic, hedonistic man who follows the sensualist doctrine. It entails that the true basis for all cognition is sensations and perception. Meaning that all knowledge, all reflection, all judgement is sensations previously felt and compared or added to other sensations. Helvetius was a firm believer in this philosophy. So Dorian Gray experiences life by seeking physical sensations that are provoked through pleasure of any kind, although mainly woman. Which supports Helvetius in his thought that man lives seeking pleasure and avoiding pain, he mentionned that 'These two, are, and always will be, the only principles of action in man.'"

"Good." His voice drawls in a soft, velvety tone, his lips curling up and eyes softening.

A shivers flows through you like a cold tide, visibly shaking your composure. Although you knew it to be from the praise, you still smiled at Silco and put on your jacket, acting as if the shaking simply came from the early spring air flowing through the class' open windows.

"And." You interject as he goes to change the slide, the teacher stopping his way around his desk and walks back up front, now directly in front of your desk.

"And?"

"By not breaking his love interest, Hetty Morton's, heart he sacrifices himself. Yet he realizes later that this action was not out of the goodness of his heart but curiosity towards a new experience, vanity and the want for his portrait to be beautiful once more. This represents something else that Helvetius has mentionned, that self-sacrifice is an action that is executed after comparing the pleasure one would recieve compared to the pain. The pleasure for Dorian was the experience of finally being good to someone. The pain inevitably came when he has realized that only confession will absolve him of his sins. So he takes the cowardly way out."

Mr. Marlowe hums, leaning forward on your desk by trapping its sides with his hands, gripping the edges. The cool of his teal washing over you, your skin prickling with goosebumps as if the eye gazing into yours was winter itself. Wrapping around your being and murmuring with its cold, biting breath, leaving your skin freezing and rippling as it quivers.

"The cowardly way out?" His voice dips.

"Yes, si-" His hands tighten around the edges of the table and your eyes look down as you mumble sorry, his eye cutting through you like a scalpel through skin and flesh. "Mr.Marlowe." You swallow softly, eyes meeting his. "He has decided to sacrifice his pride while fulfilling it at the same time, his character has no real morals. When he sees that his pitiful attempt hasn't given him the results he craved, he realized that the only way for that to happen would be to bruise his pride and undo his lifestyle, so he decided to die rather than become a good person."

You think it to be a dream as his pupil enlarges at your words, his closeness making him vulnerable to your eyes, dissecting his every reaction. How he seems to take slightly deeper breaths, how his lips twitch before his tongue peeks out to lick at them. And as you saw him do that, your own tongue rushed to wet your lips, the air suddenly feeling too hot, too dry.

"That is a perfect analysis. You never disappoint me, do you?"

The rethoric question has your hands twitching, teeth biting your cheek inner cheek as your eyes widen. And you don't know why, but you feel compelled to answer all the same even while knowing that ne doesn't need an answer, a soft nod shaking your head. Although you did know now, what made you obey and listen to him so intently. Not only your inherent need for praise and care or your admiration and respect for him as your, friend, teacher and mentor; but also the ever growing tempest in your heart. Taking more space within the confines of your soul, swirling, all consuming, absorbing your every thought and changing it to him. A force of nature. Although as you get lost in your thoughts you become all too aware that as much as you could dissect him at such a distance, so could he for you. Your eyes trailing back to his as it now looks almost entirely black, the teal all but a ring around his pupil, and his head tilting inquisitively. Although it almost looked teasing, and he seemed more and more like a predator stalking its prey before enjoying a feast.

He smiles at you, eye turning back to the usual warmth you have grown accustomed to before he turns and saunters to his desk. The end of class spent trying to regain your footing as you reign in your thoughts, notes closed and placed back in your bag as soon as Silco announces the end of today's course. Your pencil case and other necessities soon following.

Half way through spring, you've grown accustomed to the new arrangement. Your friend now called "Mr.Marlowe" when in class and "Silco" whenever the two of you were alone, the fear of using the man's name dissipating over the course of the month. Did his name echo in your mind and made the air in the room all too scarce? Yes. But it was also intimate, brought you closer as both a blessing and a curse as Silco seemed so much more relaxed after the reveal. As if he had shedded the last of the professionalism keeping your friendship from blooming fully. Long nights talking about books with food you've ordered now completed with him sharing his brandy with you, the expensive, amber colored liquid dripping down your throat like honey as you two discussed literary intricacies of tomes you've shared or had yet to make the other discover.

"You're wasting that on me Silco." You had said the second Friday he presented you with a tumbler, the one after he revealed his name to you.

To which he had scoffed, his eyes of tourmaline and obsidian soft as he serves his own drink.

"It's not wasted if it is shared with a dear friend, darling." Is all he answered, eyes warm and smile gentle as he nudges you with his shoulder, making you huff softly in your drink.

There it was again, that nickname he had used during New Year's Eve, permeating every cell in your body and rattling you to your very core in infatuation, and something more warm. Hot and stuffy, leaving you sweating under your collar and confused at the sudden rush. The same one having happened barely weeks prior.

Your tired form now never woke up in Silco's office with his jacket on you on Saturdays from the long night you've spent passionately talking to him, but in your studio, your bed softly cushioning you. A sweet message always left to you via text.

Take care, I am looking forward to seeing you again and hearing whatever that beautiful mind has conjured.

Was the first one, the ones following it always short and kind, wishing you well and speaking about the next time you'd see one another in some way. Silco was not one to text, so you seldom did, even preferring to call for the shortest of things instead of the impersonal and time wasting message typing.

Those were the only texts you got from him other than the ones from Snowdown and the quick first message you had sent to tell him it was you. And you wouldn't have it any other way, enjoying the fact that you could listen to his voice anytime he or you wanted to talk while you were away from one another.

It made you so happy you could fly, that companionship with him, as much as it brought you pain. A part of your heart revelling at the special place you held in his life, the other crying at how you were ruining all you had built just because you were so unused to love and care that your heart just jumped at the first person who ever gave it to you. You were constantly fighting with yourself, and it took a toll on you, exhausting you, filling your nightmares with visions of him rejecting your existence from his along with the usual visions of war.

Yet when you found yourself listening to him, looking at him and breathing him in, none of that mattered. At least up until you were home alone, feeling guiltier by the day at how your mind, body and soul reacted to him.

Mind quieted by his voice, listening to him and only him, drinking in every word and decyphering them, fond of his attention. Body shuddering, tensing and relaxing at each of his actions, putty in his hands whether he used them or simply looked or spoke. Soul enjoying his affections as it grew ten sizes, the love it arbors following suit, friendship and romance mixing in a maelstrom of him. Silco overtaking your every senses and states of being.

While you've gotten used to using new titles for Silco, the man has gotten used to hearing them from you, yet still gained this faraway look in his eyes whenever you said them. Quickly melting back into nothing, but it was undescribable, a feeling you could not decypher even after so long learning to read your dearest friend.

It seems you had a long way to go about this, your own façade was battle hardened yet his even more so. He lived a harsh life before his service after all, all he had ever known was pain, you couldn't blame him for being so hard to understand.

Yet it didn't make you sad, revelling at the idea that he was slowly unravelling himself for you, shedding his carefully crafted armor in exchange for your friendship. And you knew that he felt the same way about you, so very happy to see you bloom for him as time passed.

Days go by, and a few weeks later you bid goodbye to your friends after Silco's class, lovingly shaking their hands before taking your crutch and waiting until the room is empty enough. Soon enough only a handful of students were left and before you can wish Silco a good day you hear snickers, and suddenly a hand grabs your shoulder from behind you.

"You're that girl who fucked up Alex aren't you? You got a mean streak for a teacher's pet."

Any words that could have found their way out of your mouth are forgotten, mind blanking in the familiar red fury of blood fuel violence as you turn around. Your crutch is discarded as you grab him by the neck, punching the boy in the jaw a dozen of times, a sickening crunch heard from the grinding of his teeth and blood spilling from his mouth, before you throw him. His body clearing a path through a couple of desks before he crumples to the ground, your body tense with murderous intent as you freeze, looking towards him. He spits out a couple of teeth and blood, his eyes terrified, body shuddering in horror as he observes you trembling in place, body tense as you look at him like a predator ready to pounce, a blood hungry beast ready for its feast. Yet you try to hold on to the shred of control you have left, trying to remain as human as you can, protecting the foolish boy from your wrath.

"At ease." Is rushed from Silco as he grabs your arm and places you at his office chair, the blonde boy who insulted you now clear in your unaltered vision, his friend kneeling at his side as Mr.Marlowe advances towards them.

"Tyler, Finn, explain to me why you would grab a person from behind and insult them. Especially after knowing what happened the last time someone has done the same."

His voice leaves no space for cocky and snarky comebacks that those boys surely would have used had it been anyone but him.

"We didn't know she would go full psycho! She needs to be fucking shackled." Said Tyler, slowly aided back onto his feet by Finn.

Silco's hands clench into fists.

"Psycho?" He scoffs, anger rolling from him in waves, growing into a tsunami as his voice lowers to a growl. "Shackled?" Venom drips from his mouth like an angry viper ready to strike. "Appologize to her and go to the infirmary, I'll inform the board of your conduct."

"She's the violent one! She's the one supposed to be thrown away or sent to the board!" Said the black haired boy.

Your friend slowly saunters up to the two blondes, their forms twisting in fear as he grabs their shoulders, apparently painfully enough for Tyler to whimper. But that could also be the damage you've caused.

"Maybe if you were less self-interested, you'd have noticed she has a badge on her bag's strap that specifically mentions not to touch her back and why." Silco all but snarls the words, dark and gritty, filled with the promise, no, the threat that they will be taken care of for their selfish imprudence.

It was a little bit after you first started to come to him on Fridays, the two of you navigating the vast waters of literature and all of its wonders. He had proposed to get you badges that mention your condition so that you would be safe from episodes, and people would know better than to do what triggered them. The next monday a thick plastic card had been placed on your desk, Silco showing it with a small flourish as you analyzed the badge. It was bright blue, to be seen from afar, a small blue poppy adorning the card along with the text.

'I am a veteran with PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)

I may seem agitated or restless, or fully dispondent and/or disconnected. Whatever you may need or whichever the case it is, do not touch my back or come at me from a blind spot as it will trigger a violent episode in which i will hurt you and myself. If you need to talk to me, call out to me; if you need to touch me, walk around me and get into my direct line of sight.'

That card had helped you immensely, people respecting it and you, although not knowing what role or side you took in the war. Yet you were thankful for it all the same, even if your mind sometimes spiralled into self-doubt and self-hatred, thinking about your blood soaked past and how you shouldn't deserve an emergency card.

Tears carve valleys on the hills of your cheeks as the two friends leave the premises, hurrying as they shake, Finn half carrying Tyler on his shoulder.

"Your dog's off her leash." The young Zaunite's teal eyes spears you with poison covered daggers before he turns back to help his friend out of the room.

Silco swiftly makes his way towards you, kneeling before his calloused yet warm hands cradled your face, thumbs wiping at the trails of saltwater escaping the oceans of your eyes.

"It'll be alright, darling."

The word only makes you wail, the feeling that you did not deserve it and the affectionate treatment piling up with your self-hatred over your actions and your fear that you'd grow to be too much of a burden for Silco to bear. Your voice calling out for him, chanting "I'm sorry" as if to repent for your own weakness.

He shushes you.

"It's okay, cry as much as you need. It wasn't your fault. Those boys will be taken care of, their words and actions are unbecoming of anyone who studies here. We don't take lightly to bullying, especially not to a veteran."

In your own mind you were anything but a veteran, a glorified serial killer would be more fitting. Yet as you shake your head, his hands grip you slightly tighter, the feeling stopping you in your tracks.

"You are not a monster for what you were forced to become, for what you were forced to do and especially not for what has left permanent marks on you. You have fought two wars, both of them forced on you. A crusade for Noxus, and a war against yourself, one has ended with you nearly dead and the other is still consuming your soul. If people do not respect boundaries, it is their problem. But you're a victim here, not a perpetrator, and it is time for you to realize that."

Silco's words fight against the demons possessing your heart and mind, the violence ripping cries from your body as you grip his shoulders. Wheezing breaths whistling through the heavy air, molasses filling your lungs instead of oxygen, burning hot, thick, and sickly sweet. Through the clawing at your throat and in your lungs you manage to slowly make out the smells that have been your anchor, the voice, the warmth that are intrinsic to Silco's presence in your life. The sight of him escaping you as you clench your eyes shut to focus, yet visions becoming clearer in the theater of your mind as your lids shut off the blinding lights keeping them away.

"That's it, breathe for me. Even if it burns, push through it. You'll get through this." With each syllable your body melted like candle wax licked by its flame, his warmth breaking away at the hard, frigid terror and muting the loud rush of blood in your ears.

You wondered how much time had passed when you finally regained control over your own mind and actions, but the salt water eroding your face had dried and flaked, Silco's thumbs wiping its remnants away with reverance. Your eyes opened to see both of his, eyepatch discarded, and his hands trailed from your cheeks to hold your hands, wiping at the blood with a handkerchief. The same one he had used to clean your hands the first time.

Your lower lip trembled at the sight.

The care in each action that man directed towards you felt more than undeserved, it almost felt blasphemous to be treated so softly after all your violence. The storm inside you thundering angrily, raining ice and brimstone into your fragile soul; your body covered in scars and blood, both your own and not, self inflicted or ripped into you by Noxus and its unending wars.

"Your next class! Oh by Sahn Uzal, I'm so sorry Mr.Marlowe I-" You gasp, hands gripping his shoulders so you can get up, your legs failing from under you as Silco catches you, keeping you from getting hurt. Your sudden rambling is cut short with the tilt of his head, his eyebrows dragging upwards.

"Class can wait, you can't."

"I'd have been fi-"

"You don't have to lie, in fact I'd rather you not." He sighs softly, hands raking through your hair. "You are both a student and one of the people I hold the dearest, taking care of you is a part of what I do now."

"I know-"

"No buts." He places his index on your lips, the skin so close to your tongue that you could almost taste it, his own lips pulling in a gentle smile, worry and care smoothing his tired face like silk on stone. "Tomorrow, I'd like to try something since we have no books to review yet. I have had this thought for some time but didn't know when to present it to you, now I know that it might be time." And as soon as it was there, the finger left.

"What is it?"

"Call it exposure therapy. I know psychiatrists are hard to meet when you're a veteran, I had avoided seeing one until Sevika and I won back Zaun. But if you wish to live in society, you have to learn to rid yourself of certain mechanisms. It must feel lonely, to see everyone embrace one another but only being able to hold hands out of fear you'd hurt someone."

You nod, eyes cast on the ground. Silco was right, you were already so detached from the world except from him and your three other friends, and being unable to hold them like you wished you could was nothing short of torture. But it was also painful and shameful, the thought that your body could trap you within the confines of your own mind as it rips flesh apart from bone from someone who simply made the error of touching your back or coming from your blind spots.

"Please?"

It sounded more like a question, your shaking voice begging for him to help you. It had never happened until now, even when your body was breaking apart you had a hard time accepting help. Yet as you hurt someone again, your stomach clench, feeling sick at your own wickedness. Those moments reminded you of just how many have suffered and died because of you, and it terrified you more than it terrified others. The episode triggering violent actions from you, and these actions bringing about visions and episodes that painfully clawed their way out of your body, bursting through your skin in a bloody mess.

"I-" Your throat closes up, too dry all of a sudden. "I don't want to hurt you." Your voice is meek, whispered as if the gods would unleash their wrath upon you if they discovered your presence.

"And I'm not afraid if it happens, because it can, and it will."

He tilts your chin up, thumb rhythmically caressing your chin left and right like a metronome that reminded you to breathe. The rest of his hand grasping under your jaw, warm and rough from the callouses, yet the gentleness of the movement changed the limestone to velvet.

"If it ultimately helps you, it is needed. If not for others, do it for yourself. And if not for yourself, then do it for me."

His eyes are pleading, his existence overwhelming your senses as you feel yourself losing yourself in him, now too aware of his strong grip on your arm and waist.

You slowly get back up on your feet, eyes trained on the ground as you wait for your heart to calm down, the organ beating like a war drum at the soft attention and at the proximity. His hands linger, until they slowly pull away, almost caressing you as they return to his sides.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes. I'll do it." His voice soothes you as the welcoming waters of his teal iris ebb on your skin, cooling you down. "For you"

His breath sharpens for an instant before it returns back to normal, a dagger piercing through his lungs as his hands clench, trying to regain his footing from something you didn't know about.

"Will you return to your classes?"

"I only had one class left for the day, and we're more than halfway through it. I'll probably just return home."

He hands you your crutch and bag, setting himself at the edge of his desk.

"Good, I wouldn't have wanted you to do anything after an episode anyway."

You huff out a laugh.

"I know you wouldn't have, Silco. You care too much."

"No. I care just enough. Now go get some rest."

"Yes sir." Your sarcastic, tired salute is met with a blank stare, his body tensed before he sighs and shakes his head.

"You held yourself back today, somehow. I'm proud of you, darling."

He smiles, eyes full of gentle pride, and you wave softly as you limp away, your leg and back hurting from physical exhertion and earlier's near fall. On the path home you pant, the raging feelings imposed on you by your best friend too much for your exhausted body. Thoughts swirling before you lick your lips, almost falling as you taste faint traces of salt and tobacco.

Silco's finger had rested upon your lips.

And you enter your dorm, locking the door before throwing yourself upon the bed as if it would engulf you and let you disappear from the world. Shivers shaking your body as you close your eyes and try to compose yourself, but it had been done. The taste of his finger filling your senses with the remnants of your tears and the cigarettes he smoked between each classes when he had the time, the tobacco engrained from holding cigars so often while indulging in the rich smokiness. And so did you, throat too tight and yet taking in too much air as you fought with yourself not to let yourself think of more. Yet it becomes impossible to avoid, months of dancing around your own feelings, locking them away each time they've made themselves known. Especially now that you've been thrust into realizing what your feelings were and naming them. Thoughts soon spiraling as you lick your lips, thinking about Silco.

Of how his fingers would taste in your mouth, how the callouses would feel against your tongue. How his skin would feel against yours, how many more tattoos his shirts hid. Of how his lips would taste like, you imagine like brandy and tobacco, maybe alonside the dark chocolate he seemed to favor. What would his tongue feel like against yours? What would he sound like when he panted, or groaned. If he liked you the same way you loved him, would he say your name or call you darling like he has so many times? What would he look like beneath all these layers? What kind of lover would he be? Would he be rough or would he be soft? Would any of the books you have read be able to describe him or would he be something entirely new, a hybrid of all of the traits you had liked.

It was the first time your thoughts escaped your grasp in such a way as you never allowed yourself to indulge in these from fear of never being able to look Silco in the eye ever again. But as your mind grows more restless, thoughts diverging from hows and whats to images conjured from all the observations you've made about him. Svelte body rippling with strength, lean muscle encasing his tall frame. You imagined how the muscle would look, how it would be sculpted, how the most intimate parts of him would be sculpted. Your mind manipulating the clay of your fantasies into images that made you grow restless.

Your thighs were clenching, your breathing heavy and your face warm as you feel an all consuming flame licking up and down your body, igniting your core like a hearth. You were no fool, although you had never experienced such infatuation, such…desire, before. You knew very well what was happening, and how to take care of it.

There came the conundrum, suffer the agonizing burn of your own needs or giving in, indulging in the thought of the man you could never have.

The pressure was too much, the heat between your legs like dripping molten metal. And with a guilty hand your hand slides between your thighs, rubbing through the fabric of your underwear, skirt sliding up as your body shakes. It was wrong, and it should feel that way.

Then why, as your fingers massaged the damp, ruined panties, did it feel so good?

He is your teacher. You reminded yourself.

He is your mentor. You groan, panties pushed to the side, the fabric clinging to your wet folds.

He is your friend. Your fingers tremble as you reach the hot, sticky mess between your legs. A jolt rattling your spine and a sharp breath freezing your lungs at the feeling.

Your hand seizes, you couldn't. Yet your lungs are tight, stomach burning, your body screaming at you to not stop for anything in the world. And even if your restraint was commendable, your humanity inevitably fails you. Hand working at your soft nub, rolling it between your fingers as you whine into your pillow, your hips chasing your hand as the other one grasps one of your breasts. Softly and slowly massaging it, sparks of pleasure like fuel to the fire engulfing you.

The hand between your legs grows faster, puts more pressure, the slick sounds mixing with your growing moans.

"Silco."

You pant, the chanting of his name in your mind escaping your lips as your walls come crashing down, hips grinding on your hand. Two fingers slip further down, slowly slipping inside and suddenly the room is too hot. Shirt, skirt and high socks discarded along with your bra and panties, hands quickly returning to your breasts and wet slit. You're sweaty, soft whimpers escaping your throat while your teeth dig in your lower lip, trying to keep the louder sounds from escaping although feral groans and moans periodically leave you, echoing in the room.

"Please Silco."

You beg, eyes closed as you imagine him tasting you like in that novella your friends had given you as a joke gift. Thoughts of your friend wrapping your thighs around his shoulders making you arch against the bed. The feel of his tongue all too real even through your fantasy, your fingers replaced by his own, lips wrapping around your swollen clit as you writhe beneathe him. In your imagination, his other hand is bruising your thighs from how hard he was holding you, keeping you from escaping his cunt starved frenzy. His eyes looking at you yet rolling back at times from tasting you, his groans vibrating against your sensitive lips as his hair falls from its usual clean slick back.

"What a good girl you make for me, behaving so that I can treat you like you deserve."

His voice rumbles from beneath you.

"But if you want to cum you're going to have to be louder for me, let me know how good I make you feel, beg for me. Can you do that for me, darling?"

His voice was replicated to perfection by your mind, and the vision so real. You couldn't help but obey. Even your dreamed version of him owns so much power over you that he could manipulate you like a puppet, and by the gods you love it.

I would do anything for you Silco.

Your lower lip is freed from your teeth and noises flow from you like a cascade from a cliff. A torrent of lust, unobstructed by the dam of your self-control as your control shatters, turning to dust as fine as the sands of Shurima.

"Silco. I need you Silco. Fuck, please. Please I need more, can I have more? I wanna be good for you. Wanna feel good for you. Wanna make you feel good too. Wanna make you proud."

Your lips whisper words you never thought you could muster before, the lust driven, mind numbing pleasure overtaking every single one of your thoughts and rendering you incapable of thinking of anything but him.

"That's it darling, hold on just a bit more for me."

"Yes, Silco."

"Atta girl, making me so proud."

Your moans grow in number and in volume as your fingers dig deeper into you, curling into a spot that had you curling over yourself. Tears pooling in your eyes and wetting your cheeks while the heel of your hand grinds on your clit.

"Do you want to cum, darling?"

"Please, Silco, let me cum in your mouth."

"Then call out my name."

His mouth and tongue speed up, lapping then sucking in a cacophonic rhythm, the starved man between your legs devouring you as you deliver yourself as his meal. His fingers curling at the spot that had you arching again and again, slick essence running from your core to your thighs, dripping lower and even wetting your bed.

Your back hurt, the shivers and arching taking a toll on you, your leg contorting from pleasure paining you aswell. But the pleasure far outweighed anything else that happened at the moment.

"Silco."

Your fingers and hand sped up, matching the cadence and strength of the man in your head, delivering such sweet torture to you.

"Try again."

His hand slows, grinding hard, pace punishingly slow as your hand matches it. You're confused and frustrated, what did he want from you? You did say his name, did you not?

"You know the one, darling."

He all but growls, mouth biting and sucking at your thighs, leaving marks that only you two would know of yet that would inevitably come to light if you wore a skirt.

Your head rolls back, fat tears rolling from your eyes as you whine, searching through your lust hazed mind what he meant. A name you knew, a name you didn't use.

You know the one.

"Please, sir. Let me come. Please."

You whimper shakily, the hand playing with your breasts pinches once, the soft electricity rippling through your body as your fantasized Silco picked up the pace once more, and so did your hand. A noise you could only describe as a growl pushing its way out of his lips as he latches back on your pussy. Happy to come back to his feast.

"Good girl. Come for me."

It doesn't take you long to get close to the brink, a metaphorical cliff growing closer as you ran towards its edge.

"Thank you sir, fuck. You're so good to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Your eyes roll back, you feel yourself clenching around your fingers and in your mind you hear him chuckle, his tongue replacing his fingers as his nose presses against your clit, ready to taste all you have to offer. And the sight and feeling is enough for you to let out one last cry of his name, your back arching from the mattress, gushing around your own fingers as you experience total extasy for the first time.

Abandoning yourself in the abysses of pleasure.

For a time you just lay there, panting and sweaty, the cooling air feeling good against your burning skin. Looking at your hand you see it glistening, your mind going back to your unchained fantasy as you approach it to your face. You give a tentative lick and hear his voice in your mind yet again.

"Good girl, let none of it go to waste."

So you don't, sucking and licking away at your fingers, tasting the strong bittersweet flavor of your own release, imagining it to be combined with his. In your mind he is holding you, caressing your aching yet pleasured body as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

"I'm so proud of you, you did so well for me. But you always do, don't you? My perfect little darling."

It's only when you shudder from the cold, the lust no longer fueling your body into overdrive, that you get up. Putting your clothes in the hamper and taking a long, scalding hot shower.

Guilt.

That is what you feel at the moment, the pleasure ebbing away to leave your back and left leg hurting and your mind full of shame.

You had touched yourself for the first time, and it was to the thought of a man who was your professor, your mentor, your friend and nearly two decades older than you aswell as a father to four children. You felt evil, dirty and undeserving of him.

Yet the part of you that has no morals revelled in what had just happened, a revenge at how you successfully enchained it for so long, keeping your composure until you couldn't anymore.

And you think back to it all, how the honorific you used for Silco at first became a fantasy. Would it be true? Would he like you to call him that? What you know is that you surely will never use that nickname for him ever again, not only because he wants it that way, but because you don't know how you will react if you use it for him. Although you also wish to see if he feels the same about it.

The evening and most of the next day are spent looking at minutes pass, hours ticking by agonizingly slow, guilt eating away at you yet your need to see the man was untouched.

When you knock at Silco's door, opening it after his answer, you're surprised to see him with his sleeves rolled up, burgundy shirt a contrast with his pale skin and the dark line of his tattoos. He is sitting with his legs crossed on the couch as his arms are draped over the back rest, a cigar is held in one of his hands and his eyepatch discarded as it always is when the both of you are alone. His eyes feeling especially hot on you after last night, like they are branding every inch of you as they observe.

Greetings are exchanged as stubs out his cigar, then he takes your bag off of your shoulder, your eyes trained on him confused, eyebrows growing more furrowed as he grabs the lapels of your coat. His hands softly and carefully undressing you, dragging the fabric down your back, your body tensing as he stops, hands at your waist and his thumbs caressing your sides as the rest of his fingers splay more towards your back. You freeze, mind racing back to last night, suddenly feeling all too warm.

"Is that uncomfortable for you?"

"I didn't expect it so soon." Is mumbled, trying to keep your voice steady. He smiles softly at that, his eyes pools of colors that you wished you could plunge deep into.

"If we hesitate too much you might want to step back before we even started, so I decided to test the waters."

"By undressing me?" Is the hurried answer that your lips blurt out without your consent, desire filled memories ringing through your mind like a belfry at every hour. Silco's eyebrows twitching and concern painting his features, something else swirling in his eyes that you couldn't decypher, stronger yet more elusive, swallowing you. It disappears as quickly as it appears, worry taking over.

"If you wish for me to stop-"

"No, no no. I just didn't expect it. Please continue, Silco."

He nods. "Good." Is all he says yet your legs quiver and you hope he hasn't seen or felt any of it. He did, you can see it in his eyes again, sharper and darker, although it's probably out of concern for your wellbeing. At least you're glad he doesn't point it out as he continues to drag the fabric of your coat down, pulling it to the crook of his elbow as he puts it and your bag on his coat hanger. You take the time to compose yourself, sweeping the salacious thoughts away and letting your worries and stress melt in Silco's presence. Still tense at the thought of what you'd be doing today, unwilling to hurt your friend.

"Now." His hand rakes through his hair. "I won't make you stand, that would be cruel. So I've brought a stool. If you could sit on it, please."

Your hands clench and unclench while you nod, sitting yourself on the stool you had ignored while Silco takes your crutch and places it away, leaning on his desk along with it. Your left foot placed on a couple of pillows on the ground.

"I won't touch your back directly, I'll start with an object yes? And as time progresses we will shorten the length of said object until I can use my hand. Is that good for you?"

"Yes, Silco."

He smiles softly and reaches to brush back some strands of your hair that looked messy, hand then going behind him to grab a pointer stick. It was telescopic, and would serve as the element that he'd use.

"Here, take it and observe it, you can unravel it too. Make yourself familiar with it."

"Okay."

And you do, turning the object in your hands, unfurling the long telescopic end which was thin at the tip. The metal feels cool in your hands, the weight of it more than you thought it would be. When you hand the trinket back to Silco, your hands brush and you bite your inner cheek, trying hard not to tremble.

"I'll start by standing in front of you and use it on your back from there. Then I'll do the same from your blind spots. Then from your back. Then we'll restart with a shorter length when you've gotten accustomed to this one, and do it all again until I try with my hand. Is that alright with you?"

You nod. Your words stuck in your throat at his gentle care, while simultaneously thinking back of what you had imagined last night and of how brutal you had been with anyone that dared get close to you that way before.

"I need verbal consent. For your own peace of mind aswell as mine."

He tilts your chin up, eyes warm and inviting, reassuring you as your tension melts away from the simple touch.

"It's more than alright with me Silco."

"Please do tell me if it's ever too much, okay?"

"Of course, Silco.

"Good."

He unfurls the telescopic pointer by swinging his hand down, the movement fast and strong, as if he held a dagger in hand instead, your breath sharp for a moment at the display. Like he has previously said, he gets closer to you with one hand reaching to take one of yours softly, the other arm disappearing over your shoulder.

Suddenly your eyes screw shut, the feeling of the metal tip touching your back overwhelming your senses, but when Silco tightens his grip gently you open them back.

"Keep your eyes on me. Can you do that?"

"Yes. Sorry."

"It's alright, I just want to help you get used to this."

You nod, eyes finding his. The volcano and the sea clashing, all consuming, devouring you whole as they observe every twitch in your body, gauging your reactions at his movements. Trying to decypher any discomfort, any signs of an episode.

"How does it feel?"

"Uncomfortable, like a bug is crawling on me, under my shirt." He hums as you shiver, your hands clenching. "I don't like that feeling at all, it doesn't feel human but it still feels threatening."

"That's why I want you to look at me, I am familiar and comfortable to you, so it will help you acclimate."

And he continues his ministrations until your body relaxes, deep breaths feeling your lungs instead of small scared pants.

He switches to a blind spot, touching you gently with the stick, shudders shaking you as you grip your thighs. Teeth grating at the unfamiliar feeling and the loss of sight, feeling Silco's presence besides you yet not in your peripheral. When you look towards the clock you see that half an hour had passed since you first started this, which was much more than you anticipated, yet still way less than you could have expected from something of the sort.

"How does this feel?"

"Worse, I can't see you but I can feel you, just out of sight."

"Is it threatening?"

"Very."

He hums softly.

"You're doing a great job."

"It's only the beginning."

"I have faith in you. This isn't a test, we're just trying out something to desensitize you to such a feeling."

His praise, as always, makes your heart swell ten sizes. His gentleness warming you up from the inside out.

Not all people want to hurt you, actually most of them don't. You are not in Noxus anymore, you can rest easy. Silco is with you, so are your friends, you'll be alright.

Is what you repeat to yourself as you stare straight ahead.

Time passes again, this time an hour, and when your breathing deepens and your body starts melting, he switches again. This time your nails digging crescents in your palms. Vivid flashes of your near death during your escape showing in your mind's eye. People ambushing you, grabbing you from behind. Your breathing picking up exponentially, anger and terror twisting your face as tears fall down your face.

"You're doing so well, darling. Breathe, it's just me. I'm not here to hurt you."

Yet after many of the clock's resounding tics, your body twitches and you turn, getting up as you grip the pointer stick with your nails soon clawing at Silco's forearms, leaving bloody trails.

"At ease."

He shushes you and wipes your tears, one arm around your shoulders making you freeze, yet as you look at him and he cradles your face you know it'll be alright. There are no threats here.

"You're bleeding."

You sob and he places his index over your lips like the day before, effectively shutting you up before going back to wiping your tears.

"It's okay, it's nothing. I won't take any self-loathing. You did so well. You've been able to hold out for longer." He smiles at you. "When Alex touched your back, you attacked immediately. I suppose that after months in such a different climate, your body has been less on alert. It still registers those touches as harmful, yet the information doesn't reach you as fast."

"Because...I'm safe?"

"Yes, because you're safe. And look at how much time has passed."

Since you two started, two hours had passed. And somehow, you were proud of it. It was a beginning after all. But looking at his bleeding arms you still feel guilt, so you bandage him against his protests. Your own way to beg for forgiveness although you knew he didn't blame you.

And you do it again, trying to relax easier each time. Reminding yourself that you were not to be hurt here. At least not like you used to.

Not all people want to hurt you, actually most of them don't. You are not in Noxus anymore, you can rest easy. Silco is with you, so are your friends, you'll be alright.

Two more trials done before you call it a day, a drink and food shared over stories as the atmosphere changed from a relaxing day to a cozy evening. Silco beaming at you for your progress that day.

"I hope you realize how strong and courageous you are, and how deserving you are of anything good that happens in your life. Whether I had a say in it or not. You've done a great job today, darling."

Tobacco smoke calming your senses as you lick your lips, his taste merging with the food and brandy, fulfilling more than any other meal ever had and settling a hunger in your heart. The next morning you woke up in your own bed, a message left on your phone and warmth taking over you as Silco's pride rippled through your soul.

Weeks pass and late spring arrives, the last four Fridays spent back and forth between book reviews and exposure therapy. Silco's careful gentleness never faltering, maybe even growing softer as time passed.

The length of the stick had considerably reduced, your mind focused on trying again and again each time you failed, just so you could see Silco beam at you with pride and adoration. It wasn't like he never had that look, with you it was one of the only ones he could have for you along with the gentle affection he usually has, the teasing expression. The passionated book adoring look, the patient care and this strange gaze that you've never been able to decypher. The one he sent after you said "sir" back in the day, the same one he sends whenever you tease, also the one he often arbors as you enter the office on Fridays or whenever you stretch. Yet it was still loving all the same, his care never dissipating as long as it was about you.

And you know he could read that you felt just the same by the way his eyes lit up when he looked into yours.

You felt the same excitement at sharing new literary discovery, the same patience over every aspect of this developping friendship, the same humor in teasing him, the same adoration towards him. And you knew the origin of your own strange gaze, a growing lust that had been present even before you had tasted the forbidden fruit. His name on your lips as you indulged in pleasure at the thought of him.

You can't help but wonder if Silco loved you too. At the very least lusted after you, though you would hate only being a source of desire for him. Wanting to throw himself into him wholly, giving your mind, body and soul to him, and for him to do the same and not just a simple "situationship" or a "friends with benefits" relation, at least that's what your friends described those as. Labels that you didn't care much for as they were so far removed from what you craved that you would never dare consider them.

This Friday is the day. The pointer stick on the desk is a proof of how far you've come in a month, many hours spent trying again and again to accept those touches that Silco gave you.

Spending time at home with objects that you could touch your back with, slowly letting your friends touch your arms, or embrace you from around your shoulders. You worked hard, day after day, tirelessly, to not only be able to hold your friends close and show them just how much you love them. But also to be able to be in public and not risk to kill someone if Silco wasn't there and people approached from your blind spots or touched you from behind. Yet the most important to you was to get close to Silco, being able to have the warm hands that always cradled your face so gently embracing you instead, finally wrapped around you tightly. Your face in the crook of his neck, his in yours, entertwining like the serpents around the caduceus.

It's much more intimate, to have him so close, his hand spilling its warmth through your shirt. You feel your heart beating fast, an army's march ringing its powerful thrum in your ears as your hands clench and unclench at the sound, at the visions flooding in. Breathing in Silco's smell helps you focus, the smoky spiciness of him drowning the metallic blood invading your olfactory senses.

Time passes and you change to the second test, then the third. The lack of insight at who is behind you, although you know who it is, has the vipers in your mind hissing, spitting venom, opening their maws as they yell at you to attack whoever that is. Yet, after over a month of telling yourself the same words, of letting yourself be trained into accepting and being used to touch in such a way, you knew better than to give in.

And as you calm down, Silco puts his other hand on your back, testing your resolve that remains unbreaking although waning. His thumbs delivering soft caresses to you as you take deep breaths, eyes closing as you focus on the feel of his hands on your body, their gentle touch as if too much pressure would shatter you.

"You're doing amazingly, darling. That's it, just breathe in deeply. You're taking what I give you so well, making me so proud."

He applies more pressure, his hands now rubbing circles in your muscles, undoing every knot that have been pulled taught everyday of your life since it has changed for the worse. The scarred flesh beneath soft fabric blessed with the first loving, warm touch they haven't been granted in over a decade. Your back stiffening in pain under his touch before melting as his hands masterfully care for you.

"You deserve to let people in, to feel proud about yourself, and to let yourself relax. You deserve happiness. And you also deserve to be cared for and loved in every way."

Silco murmurs, his voice caressing your ear like an angel's feathers, his hands pulling you apart and back together. Taking away the hurt and the tightness, cleansing it from your body like poison sucked from a wound, your shoulders to your lower back feeling the best they've felt in nearly a year. Replacing your ailments with the familiar love that you feel for him. Growing by the second, making you fall deeper and deeper as if you fell into the abyss of his dark eye and soared in the teal skies next to it.

His face nuzzles to your back and a soft, warm kiss is delivered between your shoulder plates, lingering.

That's when you cannot resist anymore, the need for closeness, that deep loneliness and distance breaking the last of your control as you embrace Silco. Turning around, your arms cling to his back, clawing at him as your stomach churns is terror, mind screeching at the danger while your soul and heart both melt. Revelling in the sudden warmth envelopping you, his arms quickly wrapping back around your shivering form. His smell now invading your senses, eyes closed as you breathe him in while tumultuous seas battle beneath your lids. Tears clustering at your lashes like sea water on a dock, licking the port and leaving it weeping until the next wave. A gasp rips through the air, sharply entering your lungs as his face lowers in the same way yours has.

The blade of his nose cutting through the soft, supple skin where your neck meets your shoulder like the breeze slices through the blades of grass in late spring. It hurts, not the body but the soul. Such gentleness molding the rough clay, beaten to the rhythm of the Noxian drum for so long it refuses to hold shape. You didn't deserve it, but by the gods you craved it, you needed it; that slice of heaven you have never had the hope of tasting was presented to you. And your chest grew with heavy breaths, stomach suddenly all too hungry, starving as if you were back at war, back to being a slave to the war machine that is Noxus. Drool pooled into your mouth, escaping plush lips as you panted. You knew that all you had to do was ask, but the fortress of your mind kept you from uttering the words. So instead of begging for the sweetness of the reward, you whined for your resolve to be broken, for him to do anything he could to undo what has been done. So you could finally give yourself to him and taste the mind numbing pleasure he's promised you from his gentle affection. You couldn't be free, but you'd give yourself over willingly to the man undoing you at this moment. The only one who could ever unravel the knotted coil of barbed wire that you had become. Because he didn't care if the cracked porcelain of his hands got cut, if his blood was pooling beneath him like the tears were pooling beneath your chin as he held you. And you would let him bleed, break you apart and tainting you with his own blood so you could forget the gore forever staining your hands, and then he would put you back together and make you his.

He softly shushes you, yours sobs echoing through the air, slicing through the golden rays warming the office. Your body suddenly feels light, as if Jan'ahrem herself used her winds to carry you to the ends of Runeterra. And you soon find yourself comfortable, long gone is the stool as you feel a soft cushion beneath you.

Your eyes open to see Silco looking at you, the usual mask he wears even around you slipping off.

"Janna, you don't know how proud I am of you, darling."

His arms leave you as one hand comes to cradle your face and the other to rub your left thigh, your upper body coming up to sit and face him.

"You've done so well, let me treat you."

"You always do, day in and day out."

"Do I now?" He teases yet his voice remains adoring, as if he both knew and didn't at the same time.

"I'll be spoiled if you continue." Tears continue to escape your eyes like rain from clouds on a stormy day, and his thumb on your face cuts through them softly like a seamstress' scissors through silk.

"You deserve it. Now lay down."

And as always you obey, your back hitting the soft cushions feels lighter, your pain momentarily leaving you from his earlier ministrations.

Silco kneels down on the ground, a soft kiss touching your calf, then climbs up to your thigh before his hands begin to work on the muscle there, alleviating the muscular pain accumulating from years of combat and your newer condition. Careful as to not brush against your surgery scars, he kneads at the fascia and deep tissue of your muscles, the tightness that rendered you brittle slowly yet surely evaporating as he works you like a potter creating a new masterpiece. Placing attention in each movement, his eyes like heaven and hell as they train from his movements on your leg to the rest of your body, always observant and taking notice of what feels good and what doesn't. He pulled you back together, like the Ionian art of kintsugi. Taking what is broken and fixing it, embellishing the cracks with gold to show just how beautiful the object was, how beautiful its story made it. And as your muscles relaxed, melting into Silco's touch like ice in the sun, you saw in his face that it was exactly what he thought of you.

Broken but beautiful.

And the thought was painful, because as loving as he was you knew deep down within the corners of your spirit that there were next to no chances of him craving your lips like you craved his. But as his hands move on you, as his eyes observe you today, you see something else, hoping to the gods that it's real. That maybe his mask truly was off and that was you had seen was really it.

Love. Pure unbridled romantic love.

Just like the one you felt.

Yet you knew that as unused to society as you were, Silco wasn't, and that even if by any chances he did love you, he would never let himself have you. And perhaps that meant that even if your love was mutual, you'd never share something beyond what you have now. The affection confusing you and making you fall deeper all at once as you lose yourself in the melting of your own body, revelling in him. Indulging in his presence and care because you would be damned to the Void if you took him for granted.

"Are you okay?"

You blink, wiping the last of your tears away and smiling, nodding at him before your hand goes to caress his hair. A soft sigh coming from Silco as he leans into your touch a sweet smile stretching his own lips as his eyes looked at you caringly, his head turning to kiss at your wrist.

Yes, this would be alright, even if he didn't love you, even if he did but couldn't act upon it, no matter how much it hurt to not have him. No matter if you didn't deserve his care even if he said you did. Having him near you like this would have to suffice, it would have to be alright even as you felt yourself fall deeper, not knowing if he felt the same yet always hoping he did. Always hoping for more.

Yes, it would have to be alright.

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[supercorpkid]

How You Get the Girl - Final

Supergirl. Lena Luthor x Reader!, Kara Danvers, Barry Allen.

Word Count: 3335.

Part 1 / Part 2

Lena holds your face firmly, planting kisses all over it, making it impossible for you to move. Not that you would—there's nowhere else you'd rather be. You wouldn't move even if the room was on fire.

"I can't believe this is real." she whispers between kisses. Your cheeks flush, not because of her words, but the raw, desperate sincerity in her voice. It makes you feel like the most amazing person in the entire multiverse.

"Mhm, you know," you say, pausing between her soft pecks on your lips, "I love all this, but maybe we shouldn't be at CatCO anymore."

Lena pulls back slightly, her face betraying a flash of insecurity. Kissing someone that looks exactly like her employee at the workplace, one in a committed relationship even, clearly unsettles her.

"Okay, you're right." She slips into CEO mode so quickly it startles you. Pacing the room, she starts brainstorming. "Should I sell CatCO? Or find someone to run it for me and come back to this Earth on sporadically occasions? But what’s the point? Should we be worrying about which universe we're going to and—"

You get up from the couch, silencing her with a kiss. She's left breathless, lips shiny and red, staring at you as if you've taken all the words from her. "You were asking a lot of important questions, honey, but I was thinking of something else. I meant we should go to your place. I'm pretty sure there's a bed there, and we'd be much more comfortable."

"You know what? You do have good ideas!" She grins, and you can't help but mirror her smile. This smile. This one is new. Something your Earth's Lena never did.

"Look at that, I found a difference," you say, kissing the corner of her mouth. "That smile, I've never seen it before."

"I've never given it before."

You raise your eyebrows, surprised. "It's mine?"

"All yours." Lena says with such depth it knocks the air out of your lungs. And you realize she’s not just talking about the smile.

Lena looks at the ring on your finger, and you give her a nod. There's a lot to be scared of while facing this new reality you both wished into existence, but figuring out where to go next shouldn't be one of them. Yet, Lena's sweaty hands gripping yours tell you she didn't get the memo.

By now, you have traveled to so many Earths that they all look different and somewhat the same. It's hard to explain. The novelty of new worlds has started to wear off.

"Hey Barry!" 

"Y/N!" Barry exclaims, his voice filled with surprise. "And Lena?" His eyes drop to your intertwined hands. "Wait, which Earth are you guys from?"

"Earth-99," you say, pointing to yourself. He nods, recognizing you. Then you point to Lena. "Earth-242."

Barry's eyes widen, and he stays silent for a moment. You don't rush him, knowing he needs time to process. "Okay, wait a minute. Kara told you about the Earth I visited?" You nod. "So you went to a different Earth and found a Lena that loves you?" You nod again. After a pause, he adds, "Please don't tell me you're here because—"

"You guys could use my powers," you interrupt, raising your eyebrows suggestively. "And you could use her brains."

Barry looks like he wants to argue, but he can't. Not when he’s the guy who makes some of the most questionable decisions across many worlds. "I guess this is kind of my fault, isn't it?"

"One hundred percent started with you, yeah."

"Well—" He still seems like he wants to argue, but then something clicks. He realizes you and Lena could be valuable assets to the team. Soon, he smiles like a child. "Fine, you guys can stay. Welcome to Earth-1! Oh, and the S.T.A.R. Labs. The team will love having you here."

Lena looks around with a huge smile on her face. "Oh, I'm going to like this place."

You can't help but mirror her smile, seeing how excited she is. "If you're happy, I'm home."

Barry gestures for you both to follow him. "Let's go tell the others."

Earth-242 loses its Lena. She sells CatCo, donates some of her money, and invests the rest in her friends. Initially, they seem upset, but when they see her smiling at you, their anger softens. They want her to be happy, and she is happy. If they find it awkward that she is dating you, they don't mention it, and you’re grateful for that.

Assuming it would have been the same on your Earth, however, was a clear misjudgment of your friends' characters.

"So," Lena is helping you pack. She carefully folds your clothes while you toss them haphazardly into a box. "When are you going to tell your friends?"

"Well, I sent my resignation letter from CatCo a few minutes ago, which pretty much means Kara will be barging in through the window anytime now."

Lena comes closer, "And you're sure, right?" Her hands make way to your face and her touch is so good you lean into it without a second thought. "Darling?"

"Hm?" Lena has her eyebrows raised in question while waiting for your answer. "I've never been more sure about anything else in my life, ok?" You hold her waist and smile at her insecure expression. "You and I working in S.T.A.R labs sounds like a dream."

"There's no Kara in his universe." Lena makes sure you remember that. 

"Yeah I know." You kiss her forehead and smile. "We'll be fine, honey." She still looks uncertain. "Come on, Lena. I can live without Kara just fine."

"Oh really?" Kara barges in through the window that very second and you roll your eyes at the situation. Great, here she comes right on time. "You can live without me, huh?" 

You've never seen Kara this upset before, not while looking at you anyway. Perhaps at one super villain that got her really mad. But not you, never you.

"Kar," Your heart beats faster while you approach her. "I can explain. That was completely out of context." 

"Well then, please." Kara points at you, then glances at Lena behind you. "What is Lena doing here? I thought she was at headquarters."

"Right." You gesture for Lena to come closer. "Kara, this is Lena from Earth-242."

"Hi!" Lena smiles kindly. "I know this is confusing, you look exactly like the Kara from my universe too."

Kara's mouth opens and closes, unable to form a sentence.

"Well, Lena and I are together!" You smile brightly, throwing your arm around her. "And we're moving to Earth-1. Barry got us a job at S.T.A.R. labs and so we're packing my things."

One of Kara's eyes blinks, just one, while she tries to comprehend all that you're saying. She stumbles back into the bed, and lets herself fall into it with a murmured, "What?"

"I emailed in my resignation letter to Ms. Grant today, I was terrified to face her."

Kara clutches her chest. "What?"

"Darling," Lena calls your attention and you look at her. "Maybe go slower." She points to the door. "I'll be packing your kitchen stuff. You two can take your time."

Kara isn't listening to you. She fires off question after question, without giving you time to answer. So, you stay silent, watching her process everything.

"You're leaving? With a Lena? You're dating Lena? Oh my Gosh, you did love Lena. And I said it was crazy. But it is crazy. It's so crazy you're dating a different Lena from another universe and you're moving to Barry's universe? Is that even legal?" Kara reaches for her comm. "Emergency meeting in the headquarters, something insane is about to happen."

You sigh, looking at her, about to argue, but Kara points a firm finger at you. "Get your Lena there. Now."

"You know you're not my boss, right?" One hard look later, you call out, "Honey, we're going to the headquarters!"

You and Lena make it to the headquarters with Kara on your tow, so she is sure you two won't vanish into another universe (her words, not yours). The whole team is there already and Lena squeezes your hand a little stronger when she senses your anxiety.

"Hey," She whispers close to your ear. "They love you, they'll be happy that you're happy." You look at her, swallowing hard as she assures you with her eyes. "And if not –" She taps on your ring lightly.

"Is that…" Lena narrows her eyes at her counterpart waltzing in the headquarters hand-in-hand with you. "Me?"

"Hi everyone. This is Lena, from Earth-242." You decide to tell them all at once, so they can't argue. “She’s my girlfriend. We’re very happy, and we’re moving to Earth-1 together and working at S.T.A.R labs.” 

Kara points at you, “See! Something crazy!”

“It’s not crazy.” You huff annoyed, even though all of your friends are looking at you like you just grew a second head. “It’s love!”

Earth-99 Lena, it’s the first one to say, “well, this is awkward.”

“No, no. There’s nothing awkward about this.” But they are all looking at each other trying to understand how to best react to this. 

J'onn clears his throat. "Well, I wish you both good luck on your journey." He says getting opposite reactions from everyone else. He ignores them, and comes closer, shaking both yours and your girlfriend's hands. "I hope you two find happiness on Earth-1, and visit us anytime you have a chance." 

"What the fuck!" Alex exclaims from behind him.

"You'll be missed, Y/N, but I understand your decision." J'onn looks back at the others. "I'll patrol the city while you continue this conversation."

For a moment, the room is silent, but then Kara takes a deep breath, and everyone starts talking at once.

"You're crazy!" 

"This is insane!" 

"Are you shitting me?"

When they finally stop, they all look at each other, seemingly agreeing on a plan.

"Earth-242 Lena, can we talk to you?" Kara starts.

And at the same time, this Earth Lena looks at you, “Can we talk in private?” 

You agree with your head and follow her into a private room in the headquarters. Only Kara would be able to listen to your conversation, but you don’t think she is dying to know what’s happening inside this room when she is quizzing your girlfriend to death in another one. 

“So, you’re dating… me.”

You bite your tongue. How will you get yourself out of this one? “Well, you said that we’re all different people, remember?” 

She doesn’t, by the way she is looking at you completely lost. You’re not surprised she doesn't recall the moment when everything changed in your life, she was, as always, barely aware of your presence.

"I asked about it and you said there wouldn't be a paradox. We're different individuals."

"Well, yes, but she's still me somehow." She seems to be carefully choosing her words, but when she speaks again, you don't think she chose the right ones. "Isn't that the reason you're with her? I mean, you barely know her. What you know is because she reminds you of me."

"That's not true. You two are different."

She doesn't believe that, but for the sake of winning this argument she lets it slide. "Then how do you know that you're in love with her?"

"Sometimes there's no proof. Sometimes you just know."

She stares at you in disbelief and repeats, "Darling, she is me." 

"No, she isn't. And you wanna know why?" Lena raises her eyebrows, encouraging you to speak. "Because she loves me. Because, God, Lena, she can give me everything you never could. Love and smiles and—" You turn around, you can't look at her face while you say that. "We've been falling into beds together, and in each other's arms. Just loving each other so hard, I can't even remember what it's like to be a mess over someone who never gave a damn about me." You breathe out. "So, do I still need to tell you how she brought me back to life?"

She doesn't talk for what it feels like an eternity. You never once thought this was how you were going to confess your feelings for her. But now, it doesn't matter anymore. It might never have mattered in the first place.

You turn around slowly, Lena's eyes are filled with unshed tears. "Smiles?"

"What?" 

"She can give you smiles?" She repeats. You're sure you've said many, many words after that one, but 'smiles' is the word she decides to focus on. You nod slightly and Lena lets out an incredulous laughter. "Like I never smiled at you?"

"Different smiles."

"Different smiles, okay." Lena parrots, wiping her eyes even though no tears have fallen yet. "So, what? You jumped into different universes to find a version of me that would give you different smiles?"

"Shut up." You try to push past her, but she blocks you. "You don't get it. You'll never get it."

"Why?" Lena's voice is small, despite her standing tall in front of you, blocking your escape.

"Because!" You try to move past her, but she holds your wrists, pinning you against the wall.

"Because what? Say it!" Lena growls with such intensity, a hard gaze flickering between your mouth and your eyes.

"Because you wouldn't love me!" You yell.

Lena blinks at you. The splash of blue in her eye takes you off guard, you've never noticed it before. You knew that about your Lena, but you hadn't realized all of them had just a tiny bit of heterochromia. 

Then she finally blinks away a tear. You hold your breath to the small tear rolling down her cheek and time just stops between you. You both get so caught up in the moment, she lets go of your wrists, hands dropping to her sides. You swallow deep while raising your hand to her face. Your thumb brushes softly against her skin to clean a single tear she shed for you. 

You smile. "Different smiles, different tears." You explain. "I know you're confused, and I was confused too. For so long I was confused about this. But then I kissed her, and now I know."

"Well, maybe you need to be confused again." Lena pushes you further into the wall, no space for you to even breathe without having your body fully pressed against hers. 

You know what's coming next, and here's the thing, you could fight it but it doesn't even seem worth it. 

So when Lena kisses you, you think back of the many Lenas you've kissed in different universes. The sweet familiar pecks; The passionate disgraceful kisses; The 'you're mine' kisses; The 'I wish you were mine' ones; The many lips and tongues and hands; And then this one.

When she breaks the kiss for air, you have a dopey smile on your face and a light behind your eyes, you don't think it was there before.

Lena smiles too, satisfied with herself. And if you're being fair, you don't think you've ever seen this smile on her face. 

"Ok. So now that I have you confused again," She starts and you think she keeps talking, something about how to keep you on this Earth and get the other Lena back home or whatever. You're not even sure, you're not listening. Body buzzing so loud, you're shaking. 

"Sorry, I've got to —" You run to the door, since now she's given you enough space to do so. 

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Oh." You offer her a smile, the first one since this whole conversation started. You see, the other ones, they weren't for her. "I'm going home."

She looks puzzled, so you give her more information.

"You know, Lena, when you have perfect, 'almost' is never enough." You run back into the main space, you think Lena is right behind you but you're not sure, can't see her. You're not even aware if there's anyone in this place except for her. Your Lena, the Lena. 

She's caught by surprise when you hold her hand, but is quick to get up and ignore the last question fired at her by the three musketeers. "She's done explaining herself to you. We're going home."

"Wait —" Kara tries.

"No." You keep making your way out.

"Y/N, please." You think you hear Lena's voice, but it could've been Kara, or maybe even Alex, you don't care. But your escape is put to a halt, and you turn around with a frown on your face.

"No, you guys don't get it. And we don't have to explain ourselves. I love her. This one." You raise your intertwined fingers so they all can see it. "This Lena is the one for me. And you can accept that and be happy that I'm finally happy, or not. But what you can't do is try to mess up with this. Do you all get me? Me and my girlfriend are moving to Earth-1, we're starting a life together. Because she is the one I want. And no other Lena will ever do. No other person will ever do." 

You look back at her and see the smile. Different, unabashed, yours. Earth-99 Lena might have a thousand different smiles you've never seen, but you don't care about them. You like this one. This one is yours.

You look at her, doe-eyed. "You're with me?"

"I'll die." She whispers. "I'll die a sure death if I can't be with you."

Epilogue.

"Honey, do you know if Barry is bringing Iris?" You ask, going to the kitchen. Lena is organizing the many dips she bought so they look nice. She has her hair down in messy little waves, a large t-shirt and comfortable sweatpants. Barefoot on the kitchen floor, and not even an ounce of make up on her face. You smile at the perfect sight. "Why are you making all of that? It's just a game night with our friends."

"You know your friends from Earth-99 are coming too. And yes, Iris is coming too." She accepts the kiss you plant on her cheek with a bright smile. 

You peek inside one box. "You bought potstickers just for Kara, didn't you?"

"And the special beer Alex likes, and I snuck the new prototype out of the lab so I can show Winn." Lena says, sounding more excited to see your friends than you.

"That's why they love you a lot more than they love me." You joke and she chuckles, holding you from behind.

"I'm just happy they came around."

You turn around so you can face her, but her arms never leave your waist. You kiss her forehead and peck her lips.

"They would be crazy not to. You're the best Lena in the multiverse, even they can't deny that."

"How about Earth-17 Lena who helps every other Earth when they are in crisis? You know, the one responsible for this." She raises her eyebrows and you know what she means.

"No one's responsible for this, but us. If we hadn't kissed, we would never know." Your finger goes to her chin and you tilt it the slightest so you can kiss her better. And God, how is it possible that every kiss you share with her, feels the exact same as that first one. Explosive, urgent and in perfect harmony. "Just don't tell Barry that, or he might kick us out of S.T.A.R. labs."

"We're indispensable at the labs, darling."

"No. You are indispensable. I'm just the comic relief." You joke and Lena laughs as bright and easy as the sun. And shit, this Lena is so much better than any other Lena. Not only because she is yours, but like, damn, look at her. You're sure, you'd have died many deaths if it wasn't for her.

[bluekidchaos]

Kinktober day 8 - Daryl Dixon

my word count on these fics are really all over the place

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Prompt: Intercrural sex

Warnings: 18+, thigh fucking, alluding to oral at the end

Words: 242

Can also be read on AO3!

Kinktober masterlist. Regular masterlist.

Daryl's grip on your thighs was bruising, the tips of his fingers leaving small half-moon indents into your skin as he pulled his hips flush with you.

His cock was trapped between your closed thighs as your legs were pressed up against your chest. His weight on you and the feeling of him between your legs make it hard to breathe.

The combined wetness of your arousal and his pre-cum made it easy for him to fuck himself, grunting as every thrust brought him closer to his end.

The sound of your sweet moans and his skin slapping against yours. Seeing the blissed-out look on your flushed face.

After a few more thrusts he felt his cock twitch and the muscles in his stomach contract. He kept going through his orgasm, feeling his cum stick to your thighs and dripping down on your stomach and chest.

Daryl sat back on his haunches to catch his breath and take a good look at the mess he created and smiled down at you, "fuck, sunshine, you look real good painted in my cum.."

He grabbed at your bruised thighs again and pulled them apart slightly, watching his cum slide down onto your cunt. "think you deserve a treat for being so pretty for me." He leaned down as he said it and placed a chaste kiss on top of your clit.

"yeah.. deserve a real good treat for letting me use you like that."

[whathorselegs]

Writing Year In Review 2024

Doing the Tinyzai year in review also got me curious about my Fanfic statistics, so I thought I'd share my 3 most popular fics of 2024!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・

In Over His Head Hits: 1471 Kudos: 127 Comment Threads: 21 Word Count: 14,250 Summary:

Dazai and Chuuya are assigned to work a mission together, however, things go sideways when the boys start bickering before they've even been briefed. Things escalate and Chuuya is injured, resulting them being taken off their original mission. And Mori assigning Dazai the new mission of looking after Chuuya.

When The World Tears Me In Two, Who Can I Turn To But You Hits: 1463 Kudos: 200 Comment Threads: 12 Word Count: 9,798 Summary:

A two part fic of Dazai and Chuuya having really bad days and comforting each other through it. They do not follow on from each other but are separate scenarios. Please read the author's notes for content warnings. Part 1 - After a bad mission and an exhaustive week, Chuuya is at his physical and emotional limits. His body is ready to shut down by the time he gets home and all he wants to do is curl up and sulk in the fog of exhaustion. Little does his know, a certain ex-partner of his has invited himself over with plans of his own. Part 2 - Dazai is on the wrong side of multiple nights of drinking. His mind's spiraling and he's out of money and alcohol to keep his emotions suppressed. His stewing in his misery is cut short when his partner breaks into his home and plans on whisking him away, whether he likes it or not.

Kuma, His Human and the Other One Hits: 1285 Kudos: 242 Comment Threads: 20 Word Count: 2,866 Summary:

I am a dog. A Japanese Terrier to be precise and as of two weeks ago I have begun my new life living with a human, Chuuya. Luckily for me, my human was easy to train. Then the other one showed up. Or A short one shot told from the perspective of Kuma, Chuuya's newly adopted dog as he adjusts to his new life with his new owner... And the guy who keeps showing up at Chuuya's apartment, called Dazai.

I'm really happy with these three being the most popular as I love these fics a lot and I feel they are three pretty different genres of my writing.

My personal favourite I wrote this year is:

Aftermath Hits: 597 Kudos: 69 Comment Threads: 9 Word Count: 5,593 Summary:

Stranded in a quiet, forgotten corner of the European countryside, Chuuya is standing guard in a hallway. He could never have predicted this is how Meursault would have played out, or it's consequences. His partner is once again injured, severely, and it's his fault this time. He can't run from that fact, nor can he run from the figure wearing his partner's face that seems intent on driving him completely mad. (Or Chuuya hasn't slept and is having trauma induced hallucinations post-Meursault)

I got to stretch my horror writing muscles with this one attempted something different, so it has a special place in my heart.

I look forward to writing many more fics in the next year and thank you all for your support <3

(Also, I encourage any writers who see this to also do it, celebrate your works and achievements, I dare you. Consider this an open tag. Tag me if you do so I can also celebrate you writing)