#like the shape of it just flatters his face perfectly

[freebooter4ever]

yall dont forget ive been a fan of goorin looooong before i even knew geno existed, and long before geno knew goorin existed too lol. at least im pretty sure. i can see sid maybe buying a bespoke handshaped brim felt hat for historical funsies... but geno? no lol. not his style. i kinda quit following goorin after they transitioned to the trucker hats because suddenly their insta feed wasnt about beautiful old style hats.

still jealous about this trip. however i am also fairly positive not a single one of the trucker hats are made in the us factory so its a little misleading. but still a positive that they make any of the hats at all in the usa with fair wages 🙃

LOOK at the website people, there is literally only one category of american made hats anymore and its the classic styles like mine from 2019.

[hanniebaeee]

Feral Puppy

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: colleagues/friends to lovers, fluff, smut

Summary: Hyunjin has the hugest crush on you, and you've been trying to avoid any workplace drama. He's an idol after all. But what are you supposed to do when this feral puppy is totally invested in winning you over?

a/n: Sweaty Jinnie is a weakness 🤭🤭🤭

You sat at your desk, deep in work. The office was quiet this early in the morning, except for the rhythmic tapping of keys. You were so focused on your task that you barely noticed the group of boys passing by your little cubicle.

That is, until a soft thud caught your attention.

You glanced up, just in time to see a certain dark haired menace dropping a cupcake onto your desk - perfectly adorable with heart-shaped sprinkles, no less.

Hyunjin flashed you a wink that could make anyone melt. And you? You were trying so hard to not react. 

You could feel your heart skip a beat, and you sighed in exasperation, your cheeks heating up. Felix who was passing by gave you a wink. 

“Honestly, I don’t know if I should be flattered or embarrassed.” you muttered, and Felix snorted in response. 

"A little bit of both, I think." He said, picking off a sprinkle and popping it in his mouth.

You couldn’t help but laugh, because Hyunjin had been trying to get your attention for months. He was always sneaking little treats or flowers to your desk, or winking at you as you passed each other in the hallways.

It was adorable in the most frustratingly complicated way, especially since you were colleagues - technically- and it was strictly against the company policy. Especially since he was an idol and all that. 

But you still felt a rush of affection that made your heart ache. Hyunjin was too cute, and you hated that you had to keep it professional.

---

It was just a little after lunch that you had walked into the practice room to have a word with Chan. You've been bracing yourself for impact, because you know what a feral puppy he could be sometimes. 

The second you entered, naturally his head snapped around - he’d caught a whiff of your perfume. His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the way his whole body seemed to tense.

"Down, boy!" Changbin barked, grabbing Hyunjin by the collar just as he took an eager step forward.

But Hyunjin just growled, still looking at you with those wide, pleading eyes.

"I just need to see her face," he insisted, his voice a little too dramatic, and oh dear, lets just say it hit you just at the right spot.

Felix was leaning against the wall now, clearly entertained.

"Bro, her face is your phone wallpaper," he teased with a wink.

The comment made you blush harder than you ever had in front of these idiots. Your eyes darted to Chan, who was supposed to be the mature one here. And now the said mature one was desperately trying to stifle his laughter.

You gave him a glare and he just shrugged, like there was nothing he could do to stop this chaos.

“Chan, are you serious right now?!” You hissed and he cleared his throat trying to regain some seriousness. 

But before he could respond, Changbin was back at it, pulling Hyunjin back by the shoulder.

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Down, puppy, down."

You couldn't help the little chuckle that left your lips.

God, you loved him. It was undeniable. But there was no way you could get involved with him, not with all the rules in place. You just had to keep pretending that his antics weren’t making your heart flutter in the most inappropriate of ways.

"You’re such a menace, you know that?" You muttered, shaking your head at Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin's eyes sparkled with mischief as he said, "If that means getting your attention, then I’ll gladly wear that title."

Your poor heart screamed at that, because honestly, you loved every minute of it.

And so did he.

A few days later, you found yourself staying late at the office, finishing up some urgent reports. You were surrounded by an ominous stillness, because you were the only one left working on your floor and it was getting a little creepy by the moment.

You sent your emails quickly, packed up in record speed and bolted out of your workspace. But as soon as you turned the corner, you walked straight into a wall of muscle.

You froze, heart skipping a beat as you looked up slowly. And seeing Hyunjin’s sweaty, disheveled face staring back at you, you let out a sigh of relief.

That didn't last long because this exactly was your biggest…undoing. Sweat soaked Hyunjin was a weakness you didn't even like to discuss with yourself. 

His shirt was soaked through, clinging to his body, and you could actually see the muscles in his chest through it. His damn hair fell messily around his face, and there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead, making him look like some kind of god sent from another realm.

His wide eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You looked away quickly, absolutely embarrassed, but the damage was already done.

You could feel the string of control inside you stretching taut, ready to snap. 

Hyunjin watched you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Not aggressive. No, it’s playful - and so damn hot.

“Didn’t expect to run into you tonight,” he said, his voice husky. 

You forced yourself to look up at him, and for a second, you both just stared at each other. Your body was screaming for release, but your brain was holding on.

You couldn’t cross that line. Not when it could ruin everything.

"I…uh, didn’t mean to startle you," you managed, your voice trembling just a little too much for your liking.

His scent is intoxicating, a mix of sweat and his cologne. And pheromones or whatever. 

"Startled?" he teased, his lips curling into a smile. "You’re staring. Are you sure you didn’t come to see me?"

"I-I wasn’t staring," you stammered, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye. You were so aware of every inch of him right now - it was like the droplets of sweat trickling down his skin were begging for your attention. 

"You're not fooling anyone, you know," he murmured, his voice dipping lower, sending a wave of heat shooting straight to your core. "You’re trying not to break, but I think it’s too late for that."

“Hyunjin-”

"How long are you going to pretend you don’t want this?" he asked, his words heavy with desire, making your heart race faster. "I can’t be the only one who feels it."

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling, your resolve completely gone. You wanted him so badly, it hurt. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to fight it anymore.

Seeing that he has tormented you enough, Hyunjin pulled back just slightly, giving you a playful look that said, I’ll let you off the hook for now. 

"You’re so annoying," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

He just smiled, completely unfazed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Am I?"

The next few days were a nightmare. The lingering, burning tension that Hyunjin’s created between you two was literally frying your insides. And let's be real. Seeing him in all his sweat soaked glory, you were so unbearably turned on. 

Seeing you at the edge of your own self control, has unleashed something in him. He knows you were just as interested. That little moment? He was holding onto it. 

So you did the best thing - the only thing at this point - avoiding him. You asked Chan to meet at a conference room for a quick chat when it was necessary. Or you generally didn't venture towards the practice room. 

You’ve learned to keep your distance, at least a little. And you hoped that Hyunjin wouldn't notice. But Hyunjin was not having it. No. He was making it his personal goal to make sure nothing went unnoticed.

---

You were walking through the hallway, minding your business, trying to get to the elevator. You heard the footsteps behind you too late. You could swear you felt the heat of his presence before you even saw him.

Hyunjin, being the menace he was, barreled into you out of nowhere, pressing you up against the wall in a move that was so absolutely ridiculous that for a split second, you wondered if you were dreaming.

“What the hell, Hyunjin?!” you exclaimed, flailing as you try to regain your balance, your palms slapping against the cold wall.

You're heart raced and you glanced around feeling kind of dazed. But Hyunjin just stood there, smirking, totally unbothered.

“What?” he said innocently, his body still pressed against yours. “There’s not enough space to pass.”

“Are you serious?!” You flailed again, trying to step aside, but he just shifted his body to keep you pinned, making it impossible to escape. 

“Oh my God, Hyunjin, move!” You were flushed, not just from the physical contact, but from the audacity of it all. You didn’t even know if you were angry, embarrassed, or completely turned on. 

He looked down at you, his eyes glittering with something so mischievously feral.

“I know you don't mind, sweetheart,” he said, and you groaned internally. How did he keep doing this? The way he was so confident, so sure of himself. 

“Hyunjin, please.” You tried to get him to step back, but it’s like he’s glued to you.

“I didn't even do anything,”

Oh the nerve!

You tried to wiggle away, but his arms came up on either side of you, trapping you even further. You’re caught, pressed against the wall with nowhere to go, and his body is all around you.

“Let me go, Hyunjin,” you breathed, but it’s almost a plea now. “There are cameras everywhere!”

His grin widened as he watched you, and said, “Oh is there?”

You let out a soft growl of frustration, realizing you’ve lost all sense of control. Your grip on his shirt tightened, and Hyunjin bit his bottom lip seductively. Your were trembling in his arms. 

Maybe that was what he was aiming for, because he dropped his arms and took a step back. 

You quickly scrambled away, muttering curses under your breath as you speed-walked away. And Hyunjin watched you go, that mischievous smirk never leaving his face. 

“See you around, sweetheart,” he calls out after you.

Hyunjin has successfully invaded every corner of your mind that you had so meticulously disciplined against doing exactly that. 

The teasing. The tension. Oh the need - it's been eating you alive. You couldn’t focus at work. You couldn’t go anywhere without your heart hammering at the thought of him. 

You’ve tried to ignore it, tried to compartmentalize it, but the truth is - you were well past the point of no return.

And then, of course, it happens again.

It was another late night at the office - one you tried so hard to avoid, but here you were. You were discreet and quiet.

You thought you'd made it. That this time you’d escaped his clutches. But as you walked down the dimly lit hallway, your heart just started to race again.

Because of course, he was coming toward you from the other side. And he stopped in front of you, his hands stuffed into his pockets. 

"Are you trying to avoid me?" he asked, his voice so low and husky, you wanted to jump off a cliff.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head as you said, “Why would I do that?”

Your voice wavered worse than a leaf in a storm. 

“Just making sure you don’t get any ideas,” he whispered - his face was so close now that you can feel his breath on your lips.

You were so damn tempted to lean in just a little. You shouldn’t. You couldn't.

“You know, I’m waiting for you to crack, baby,” he murmured. “Just let go, you know you want to.”

Your heart raced and flipped and fluttered all at once, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. You tried to step back but obviously there's nowhere to go. But he followed, matching your every movement.

“Hyunjin,” you said his name so softly, a breathless sound that made his eyes flash with something darker, something predatory. “Please, just-”

But he was done playing nice. His hand came up to gently hold your chin, lifting your face so you couldn't look away and you were forced to meet his gaze.

“You think you can just keep running from me?” he breathed, stepping impossibly closer. “If you didn't want me, you would've said that by now. But you keep me hanging, and I'm just about done with that.”

And that was when you lost it.

Before you knew what you were doing, your hand came up to grip the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His lips crashed against yours, desperate, unrestrained. The kiss was hot, messy - all tongue and teeth.

And it was everything you’ve wanted.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you even closer. His body was hard and slick with sweat, and you could feel the heat radiating from every inch of him. 

His lips trailed down your neck, making you gasp as he kissed the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“Told you,” he whispered against your skin, his breath hot. “I knew you couldn’t keep pretending.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips  slightly swollen from the kiss. 

“I need to hear it, okay?” he said, his voice low and filled with promise. “Tell me you want this too.”

You looked at him, your breath coming in shallow pants. You were done pretending.

“No more running,” you whispered. “I want you too…”

And Hyunjin gave you a smile so radiant, you could die happily at the moment.

“Come on,” He said, taking your hand and pulling you away. “Let's go somewhere safe.”

A room next to their studio. Barely used. Kind of dusty. But it worked.

The minute you stepped in, his lips were on yours. He had you pressed up against the cold wall of the unused office, your bodies tangled together in an almost desperate need. Your hands tugged at his shirt, trying to get it off, and he didn’t even hesitate, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. 

His hands roamed over you, caressing, groping, pulling you closer as if he was starving for you. 

“God, I love you-” He growled, his hands sliding down to your hips, pulling you into him. The heat  radiating off his body and the feel of every muscle flex beneath his skin - you were blinded by it. 

His hands were sliding up your sides, tugging at your clothes, as if he was hungry to see every inch of you. You gasp when his fingertips grazed the skin of your waist, as he took off your shirt. 

"Hyunjin..." you whispered, breathless, the sound of his name escaping your lips like a prayer. 

"You’re so fucking beautiful," he growled, his lips finding their way down down chest. His fingers pulled down the cup of your bra, as he pressed soft kisses around the flesh. 

Your lips parted, but no words came out, just breathy gasps as his lips wrapped around your nipple. The soft scrape of his teeth on your skin made you shiver, and you couldn't stop the low moan that escaped from deep in your chest.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned against your skin, his breath hot, sending goosebumps across your body.

“Hyunjin,” you gasped, tugging him closer, your hands finding his waistband of his sweats. He groaned, clearly as desperate as you are, and his lips crashed back to yours. His tongue sweeped over yours, and you lost yourself in the kiss.

His hands moved down to your waist, his grip tightening as he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you felt how hard he was for you. 

He carried you effortlessly toward the desk in the corner of the room. Placing you on the edge of the desk, his hands trailed up your thighs as he leaned in to kiss you again. You couldn't stop the trembling in your body as you pulled him closer. 

Hyunjin’s hands move quickly, pulling off the rest of your clothes. His dark eyes take in your body, pupils blown wide with lust. 

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his hands sliding over the exposed skin of your tummy. 

“Hyunjin… now.” you said desperately, pulling at his pants again, and they're gone in a flash. 

When he finally stood completely bare before you, the sight of him sent a shock of heat straight through your body. He was so beautiful - every inch of him. 

His eyes never left yours as he positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your waist as he brought you closer to him. You felt his hard length pressed against you, and you whimpered softly at the thought of what’s about to happen.

“I need you,” you whispered, your hands running through his hair, pulling him in for another kiss. “Now.”

And with that, Hyunjin moved, spreading your legs and pushing into you slowly. You shivered as he filled you completely, stretching you out.

You gazed up at him, the beads of sweat (he was sweating again - again) trickling down the side of his face. 

“Oh my God,” You whined softly, closing your eyes, and he grinned, a chuckle escaping his lips. He began to move, slipping in and out of you with every thrust. Your hands gripped at the edges of the desk, trying to steady yourself as the pleasure built between you both.

You were so wet, and Hyunjin couldn't stop looking at where you two were connected, and with a frustrated sigh, he pulled out completely. 

You gasped and stared up at him, as he grabbed your legs and pulled you more to the edge and then, his face was in between your thighs. 

You almost shrieked - because that was absolutely unexpected. He wasn't wasting any time, his tongue lapping at your dripping folds and nudging your clit. Your hand landed on his hair, pulling at it gently and Hyunjin hummed - the vibrations of it making you drip even more.

“Hyun… Hyunjin!” You moaned, as he licked softly over your clit and nibbled on it gently making your breath catch. 

It didn't take long for your first orgasm to crash down over you, and when Hyunjin straightened, he had the most satisfied grin on his face. 

“You're so sweet, baby,” He cooed and you were sure your cheeks were at least two shades redder than before. “I couldn't resist it.”

You laughed, a tired one at that and he laughed with you before stepping in between your legs again. He ran his hands up and down your thighs and you watched, breathing heavily. 

“Can I?” He asked softly, and you nodded with a smile. 

It felt deliciously good when he slipped in this time, and the rhythm between you was slow at first -  tender - but it didn't take long for that to change. Hyunjin’s need took over, and he began to move faster and harder, his body crashing into yours with a force that left you breathless.

The sound of his body slapping against yours filled the room, and you couldn't stop the moans that escaped your lips. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you clung on to him tightly. 

He was everywhere - his hands, his lips, his body - and you were drowning in him.

You pull him closer, you lips kissing down his neck -  glistening with sweat - and you loved the way he moaned as you bit down right below his ear. 

You didn't know this was such a turn on for you until today. This man did things to you that even you didn't understand. And you didn't mind really. 

And you could feel that knot tightening in your belly again. Your eyes met, and you gripped him tightly, as his name escaped your lips in a breathless gasp. 

Your whole body shuddered as you hit your peak again, and Hyunjin kept moving, till you heard him groan and pull out quickly, spilling all over your tummy.

You were both left breathless, hearts racing, tangled together in a mess of sweat and your releases. For a moment, neither of you speak. 

Finally, Hyunjin gently cupped your face with his hand, his eyes softening. 

“I love you, Y/N. So damn much.” He whispered and you could swear you've never seen him being this serious. Ever. 

“I love you too, Jinnie,” You said, and your smile had him smiling. And the two of you were giggling and hugging each other tightly. 

“I told you I’d make you mine,” he mumbled against your neck, pressing a gentle kiss there.

“Yeah yeah,”

The next morning, you walked into the office, trying to act like everything was normal. But as soon as you stepped in, the atmosphere just felt different. 

You sat down at your desk, but before you could  even open your laptop, Changbin, Felix, and Chan came strolling into the office like they’ve been waiting for you. 

Oh they knew. 

“Morning, Y/N,” Changbin said, his tone way too casual. “Sleep well?”

You forced a smile, trying to stay calm, but inside you’re screaming. 

“Yeah, sure. Thanks for asking.” you managed to say, as you avoided making eye contact with him. 

“I’m sure you had a very eventful night, huh?” Felix was leaning against your desk now, his chin on his hand and a toothy grin in place. 

You dropped your head into your hands, already feeling the embarrassment creeping up. And then, you heard it. That sweet, chuckle which had you wanting to crawl under your desk and never come out. 

“Hyunjin,” you hissed, glaring at him as he strutted over to you, like a damn puppy who’s just been given a treat. 

And he looked so fucking proud of himself.

"Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, dropping that mandatory cupcake on your desk. 

You didn't hold back the sigh.

“Oh my God, Hyunjin,” you whined, burying your face in your hands in defeat. “Please.”

“What? You think they didn’t notice?” he asked innocently, pointing at the spot under his ear, where he sported a very evident hickey. 

Oh you wanted to die. Felix snickered, totally enjoying this. 

“And you’re glowing love, it looks good.” he said kindly. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you groaned, pressing your fingers into your temples. “Could you not?”

“You know we should have a talk about office etiquette. But then again... if it was that good…” Chan added, raising his eyebrows, a smile tugging at his lips as he glanced between you and Hyunjin. 

“I’m going to murder all of you.” 

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

[descisco]

god i know it’s all been said before, but post fall!hannigram are INSUFFERABLE ! after however long it may take for them to find their footing together, i know they’re touching each other in some way shape or form at almost all times. so much to the point to where it’s just instinct. i like the idea of a groggy will clinging to hannibal’s back as hannibal moves about the kitchen to prepare breakfast. they’re barely exchanging any words, it’s just peaceful, safe. will’s a menace though, and he’s touch starved, so you can’t blame him if he reaches around hannibal to turn the stove off, and pull him to their bedroom. or will reading on the sofa, hannibal tucked between his legs with his head on will’s scarred belly, laying there as will plays with his hair. tbh, i think they could lie together completely naked, hands exploring and memorizing, and yeah, sometimes it can start to get heated, but they’re perfectly content to share long, lingering kisses, looks, and touches, holding one another, maybe rocking a bit, muttering words of love, metaphor, some laughter, etc. BIG fan of a very loving will post fall! where he’s very bold in his actions once he gets through the whole “ok well i ain’t exactly gay, but i ain’t exactly NOT gay 👀” thing; grabbing hannibal before he can walk out the door to go into town for one thing or another, and planting a big fat kiss right on his lips. it’s always a thrill to hannibal, and to will, seeing hannibal light up. something that gets me every time (especially in fanfics) is the headcanon of will openly telling hannibal how beautiful he is. “the poets would envy you, y’know. madness, man, and beauty wrapped all in one.” as if hannibal needed another reason to worship the very ground will walked on. it’s funny how he could -and has- said the very same about will. i’ve shared a headcanon here before that i’d love to write someday; it’s will that proposes. blunt and sudden, eyes sparkling, a mild smile on wine stained lips as they sit beside one another in the living room one night after dinner. they’re touching, of course, but it’s just barely; index fingers hooked loosely together in the space between them as they peacefully sip from their glasses in their respectful chairs, listening to the crackling embers of the fireplace, and distant classical notes from a record player hannibal purchased when they got settled into their home. i think hannibal is literally stunned. not that he hasn’t thought about it before. i know it’s cliche, but it’s the fact that he can’t believe his fantasies no longer reside in his mind palace, but are now fleshed out in the tangible world, and matched in equal measurements of devotion. will would probably chuckle, seeing hannibal’s eyes get glossy, setting his glass aside, and rising from his chair. “hannibal lecter rendered speechless. i’m flattered to be able to do the job.” and will places himself right in hannibal’s lap, holds him close, kisses his face, his hair, his lips. “i’m offended by your silence, doctor. i did just propose to you, after all.” and hannibal just !!!!!! warm smiles up at will, FOR will. “i would choose you in every lifetime. there is no need to ask, nor doubt, will. you know that.” and now it’s will’s turn to smile and get teary eyed, gaze locked with hannibal’s. little nod, fingers carding through ever greying hair. “yeah. yeah, i know.”

[mutedwinter]

Almost, Always

w.c — 1.5k

summary — Lacy Logan has never had to struggle. Born into wealth and status, she’s used to city life, not some small town in Kansas. But thanks to her brother Leo—who got expelled again—her family is forced to move to Smallville for yet another fresh start.

On the night of her birthday party, Leo drags her into his latest mess: he and his friends have strung up some guy in a cornfield for crashing. But when Lacy sees who it is—Clark Kent—everything starts to change.

Smallville isn’t just another town, and Clark isn’t just some nobody. And whether she’s ready or not, Lacy is about to step into a world far bigger than her own.

written for @theepr1ncess

POP MUSIC BLARED from within Lacy Logan's french country style home. Beats bounced off of the walls and heavy bass thumped against the marble floors. It was Friday night, and just as the moon made itself aware, a flurry of cars began to pull up. The house had been a custom build for the Logan family. It had iron gates, a garden filled with roses with a marble fountain, rows of tall pillars that decorated each side of the outdoor pool area, and a huge family painting hanging on the living room wall.

The large garden behind the residence was littered with flashy cars and expensive-looking motorcycles. Drunken football players splashed around in the pool, trying to get revenge on their already chlorine soaked teammates. A group of kids with red solo cups full of whatever alcohol they could find in the cabinets stumbled as they talked amongst themselves.

Oh well. A little stealing never hurts anyone.

Inside the house, amongst the crowded area was a group of girls gathered together on the blue velvet sofa with their drinks and figure-flattering outfits. Bianca Butler, Lacy’s best friend, laughed almost angelically at something one of her friends had shouted over the music in her ear. She was perfectly primped in her black spaghetti strap mini dress, her silky honey locks curled loosely around her heart shaped face. Soft brown eyes hidden under her long thick lashes.

To her right was Lacy Logan, The prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, scrolling through the photo gallery on her phone. Lacy was a beautiful storm. Her slick back ponytail hung straight and shiny down her back. Her eyes were painted with a smokey eyeshadow and her lips were the color of cinnamon. She wore a red dress outlined with lace, and a pair of black strappy heels to showcase her long, lithe legs. In her freshly manicured hand was a bottle of water that she had on standby just in case a friend needed to sober up. Her friends rambled on about useless topics but she couldn't be bothered to entertain their ideas of a conversational piece. Classmates waltzed up to her and wished her a happy birthday. Some complimented her hair, her dress, her makeup, the speech she gave in the debate club.

Anything to feel like you're a part of her world, right?

"She’s obsessed with you and not in a good way." Lacy chimed into the conversation. The current topic was about the infamous 'Maggie Cameron', Bianca’s annoying girlfriend. She’s a terribly selfish rich girl that just so happens to be friends with Lacy’s twin brother and older sister. "You're overreacting." The blonde denied as she nursed her cup of beer, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous accusations. 

"Seriously, B, you're giving her way too much credit," Bianca remarked, her voice blending with the rhythm of the music. "I've seen toddlers throw less tantrums." She gestured toward Maggie, who was making her way over to them. She wasn't alone though; she never really was. Lacy’s twin brother, Leo, was to his right, and Tony Alvarez was to his left.

The music thumped in the background, echoing throughout the spacious living room filled with a mix of friends, acquaintances, and the occasional stranger brought along for the night. Lacy chuckled quietly to herself and looked away from the glare that Bianca had cast her way. She leaned back against the couch, observing the crowded room with an air of detached annoyance. The flickering lights and the buzz of conversations were starting to give her a headache.

As Maggie approached, Lacy exchanged a knowing glance with Leo, and Tony gave a subtle nod. "Hey sis." Leo clapped a hand down over Lacy’s shoulder as his voice boomed over the loud music. He held a red solo cup filled with whatever he managed to score from their parents bedroom. A mischievous smile graced his features and it was only then that Lacy realized what it meant. He needed her for something. Lacy shot him a questioning look, her curiosity piqued. "What do you want now, Leo?" she asked, the noise of the party fading into the background as she tuned into whatever mess her brother had managed to get into. 

“We want to you come check something out. The guys and I found this loser trying to come into your party so we took him out to a cornfield and strung him up.” His chocolate eyes gleamed against the soft lights as he spoke. Now, Lacy wasn’t exactly sure if she heard him right because none of what he said had made sense in the slightest. “I’m sorry, you did what?” Her tone was clipped, black nails digging into the couch armrest.

By the look on her face Leo had quickly realized that he had made the wrong decision. Again.

“Now I-I know that sounds bad but I can totally explain!” His words were rushed as he straightened his posture, hands up in surrender. “Explain what exactly? We’re not even here for a month and you’re already causing trouble? Are you joking?”

She got up from the couch, pushing past her brother and his stupid friends. He was hot on her trail, rushed apologies were going in one ear and out the other. He was saying something about how she was overreacting even though they both knew that she wasn’t. Leo had a habit of downplaying the feelings of those around him. He also had a habit of creating trouble and being in situations where he didn’t belong.

And she was sick of it.

“You do this every time, Leo,” she snapped, rounding on him just as they reached the hallway. “You get yourself in trouble, and we have to pack up and start over because of it. Do you know how exhausting it is? How much I hate having to pretend I don’t know why we’re moving? Do you think I enjoy having to walk into new schools and act like I don’t know that the real reason we’re here is because you—”

She stopped herself, inhaling sharply, her nails biting into her palms.

Leo shifted on his feet. He knew exactly what she was talking about. “That was different,” he muttered, gaze flickering toward the floor.

“Yeah?” She let out a cold laugh. “So is this. Do you even realize how insane you sound? A cornfield, Leo? Do you have any idea what Mom and Dad would do if they found out?”

He finally looked up, his face blank, but she could see the panic creeping into his eyes.

Lacy tilted her head. “Actually…” She dug into her back pocket, pulling out her phone and waving it between them. “Maybe I should give them a call.”

His eyes widened. “Lace—come on.”

“No, really. Let’s tell them. I mean, what’s one more call from the school? Or the police?” She raised her eyebrows. “They’ll love hearing about this one.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not funny.”

“Oh, I’m not joking.” She turned the phone over in her hand, thumb hovering over the screen. “But… maybe I don’t have to. Maybe you just give me your car keys, and we forget this happened.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a second, she thought he might argue. But then, with a heavy sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, tossing them at her.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

She caught them effortlessly, slipping them into her pocket. “Yeah, well, maybe next time, you’ll think before you do something stupid.”

Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked off.

Her gaze flitted around the area, scanning the faces of the random people and occasional familiar faces. It was supposed to be a small gathering. The thought floated around her mind as Brittany Kluger, a sophomore that was apparently all too friendly with the senior's, came up to her for what felt like the one hundredth time that night. She had pink dyed hair and wore the ugliest pair of jeans that Lacy had seen in years. "Hey Lacy! Great party," She grinned with that god awful set of teeth and Blair could smell the alcohol on her breath from a mile away.

From an initial look, you could tell that she was wasted from the spiked punch that Bianca insisted on making. Lacy smiled, it was practiced but still effective, and batted her eyelashes in response. It was the classic Lacy move which meant that either your conversation wasn't entertaining enough or she found you attractive. You should assume the former with the pink mess standing in front of her.

"Thank you." She softly murmured and turned away before the chatterbox could do what she does best, which is chatter. She could hear her feeble attempts at capturing her attention again as she pushed past the sweaty bodies of her classmates. There was only one thing on her mind tonight that she would actually be looking forward to.

And little did she know, it would turn her life upside down.

[theogonize]

morning sex! with nanami! it's all i fucking think about!!!!!!!

(arranged marriage au? slight somnophilia?)

he was usually up before you. like wayyy earlier. he's learnt not to bother you even though you can feel his massive weight be lifted of the bed. you know his routine by now. he goes to the gym early, showers and makes himself a cup of coffee by the time you start cooking breakfast. that's the routine, that's one you're aware of. what you don't know is that he's been watching you sleep... for like... everyday you both have lived together.

and it's !!not!! creepy, of course, you are his wife. it's not creepy, the fact that if he looks at you too long he starts to feel his pants getting tighter, a siege of blood flowing south.

it isn't wrong, when he pulls your covers down from your face. of course he just wants you to breathe easier. it's not lust. just an added bonus that he can now see your pretty lips parted, begging for a kiss and your pretty tits squished by your arms as you lay on your side.

if it's not wrong then why does he... why does he feel this way? this guilt? and why does it make him hornier?

so one of these weekends, as he told himself, he'd try his luck. it was all too unbearable for him at this point. you were fogging up his brain with these lewd images. and worst part was... you were oblivious to the effect you had on him.

it's a sunday. his body wakes up at the usual time. wee hours of the morning. you're by his side this time. it's all up to him now.

he tries to be discreet, at first. try lovey-dovey stuff first, as the internet has told him. you feel him shift in the bed and suddenly your husband's massive arms hug you from behind. the muscles tense as he pulls you to his chest. his heart is pounding. and its barely like 5 am.

"you're sleeping in?"

"yeah, weekend."

"no gym?" you ask. you both sleep face opposite sides, this is one of the few times you've had to adjust your body to his frame. you squiggle as you talk, trying to fit the soft curvature of your body with his flatter, harder frame.

"no.. it's uh... closed for maintenance today." he too has a hard time adjusting to you. to your curves, to your proximity, to how you slept in his arms like a fawn. to how he would conceal his erection to spend time like this with you. too much, too unbearable.

"oh, ok." you smiled. "wake me up if you need anything hm?"

you close your eyes once more. now something else woke you up. nanami's face nuzzled in your neck. his hands, this time, toying with your waist. his bulge apparent. it made sense now. you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

nanami kento is the beautiful man you are married to. gorgeous blonde hair. piercing brown eyes, shaped so angular that it's intimidating. perfect jaw structure. and god... that dick. he was caring and responsible too. how could a man this perfect ever love you? you were convinced he didn't. he always looked stoic, removed, disconnected from you an your relationship. he fucked you with care and gentleness and diabetic sweetness. you couldn't feel him want you. but you'd grown to want him. who the fuck has a one sided crush on their own husband?

but this... this felt different. this felt like all those fantasies were gonna come true. those moments you spent doting on him, creating the nastiest scenarios.

oh god, his soft blonde hair, unkempt and messy in bed. his eyes barely open, his body warm. he smelled like himself and not his expensive cologne. it was all so domestic. all so comfortable. how could you miss this side of nanami?

but you continued to be merry with the domesticity of it all to foresee how your perfect husband was about to perfectly split you open with his perfect dick.

[sugar-petals]

Hi caro ❤️ I have a thing for long haired hayden christensen (but not too long like a dramatic or FN styling !) A bit of curls beautiful , he looks like a rich dark handsome aristocrat ( like you said in one of your previous posts about classics ) , I think he might be some kind of classic cause really short hair /army cut does nothing for him and some sharpness looks good on him . Have a nice day ☀️ ❤️

never had any idea how to type him and you're right! he is a [pure!] classic 😵 eureka! how easily does he radiate "perfectly groomed, icy, flawless gentleman" in the right kind of mood and styling. the stricter the clothing, the better. pure classic: full sophistication.

nothing looks as good on hayden as a crisp red carpet suit with every detail in place, not even the slightest asymmetry. no vertical line dressing, and only slight waist emphasis. rule: keep the clothing simple, even unremarkable, and a classic's face card will pop! no other type can do this.

compare: natural clothing ages him (see below), and dramatic clothes — a staple in the star wars universe — are overpowering, if not entirely too huge like you say. (bonus: at 6'0 he is obv too tall for romantic & gamine, yin satiny fabrics just don't work for him.)

i guess there's a reason why his anakin role was so debated. he breaks the cinematic rule of "a pure dramatic man must be the villain" unlike christopher lee. his movie wardrobe is far more yang than he is. stiff fabrics w/ large geometric cuts don't flatter him.

i like the idea of "classic type anakin" as a message — even balanced perfection can be tainted. someone doing evil doesn't have to look gaunt, sharp, terrifying, asymmetrical, etc. the issue of visual assumptions and credibility. seldom that the villain is rounded yin! the fact that it feels ludicrous/bizarre/laughable only confirms the bias.

as for the haircut, you're correct that Cs suit the medium length so well, on top of those neat men's cuts. the oval shape pertains to the classic, so curls will be truly suitable for them, not just on R/SG. in any case, what a stunning man. whether that's their curse or blessing, pure classics don't need much to be the most handsome in the room.

the only type where less is always more. incredible!

[liryquin]

Hi, I don't know if you accept requests, but if it would be possible to have like with Alan in the role of your big brother but with Jin

Jinnnnn as your older brother :]

platonic!Jin Kamurai x gn!reader

summary: general drabble shaped headcanons on your relationship with him as his younger sibling

word count: ≈ 1,1k

cw: lapslock, canon divergence, ooc character/s, reader can be read as mc/pc?, smoking, Jin's a SOFTIE

a/n: I had a lot of ideas to write about but I feel like I'm just retelling canon events now :p yes my reqs and asks are open, pleaseee feel free to send in a prompt at any time and thank you (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

proofread ✔️

๑｡‿♡⁠˖༚⑅ not to sugarcoat it for you, but Jin wasn't really fazed when his parents came home with a tiny something swaddled in a blanket that kept crying and wailing at the top of it's lungs. he's heard about other children practically begging their parents to get them a younger sibling, not yet fully realizing the amounts of responsibility that come with having another child to raise at their young age. he's seen movies and read books with sibling characters in them, more often than not with them being in a perfectly symbiotic, loving relationship.

he didn't buy it one bit. he just didn't get it. Jin was very mature for his age, or at least he was told so. since the very tender age of preschool he was already aware of the fact that he is an heir to an influential family – he has a reputation to uphold. he couldn't just be fooling around and playing with toys like other kids; and having certain privileges come with his status, it brought as much obligations and prohibitions for him to endure.

naturally, parents tend to pay more attention to younger children. Jin was too prideful to admit what he felt; he's always had a lot of things to do, not having much time for pouting. also he knew it was childish; to sneak out of his room at night, wandering around the manor, troubled in his sleepless trials, his feet having brought him straight to your crib – peering over the edge of it at your peaceful, sleeping face. he didn't get it – why do adults fawn over you that much? your lashes flatter in your sleep and your tiny nose scrunches up in an unreadable expression of distress; maybe you're dreaming of something. he almost instinctually reaches out to you, and before he can stop himself his warm and tender hands were cradling your delicate face. he didn't get you.

nor did he actually hate you. he just couldn't bring himself to. as you grew, your presence in his daily life became more and more noticeable; he could be having his daily piano lessons, busy with his homework, practiced fingers hovering over the keys – dang, he misses a note again. you just wouldn't let him focus on the piece! bouncing around him, loudly giggling, asking if you 'can try' too.

and Jin just sighs. he scowls at you, laying his palm flat against the keys in defeat. he would huff and puff, barking out snarky comments about how 'you're always bothering him' and 'you don't know how to do it anyway', but he lifts you up in his arms to situate you on his lap nonetheless.

he just doesn't know what to do with you. you used to admire your older brother in everything he's done, genuinely believing him to be the coolest person alive – he knew all the big words that you'd break your tongue if you tried to pronounce them and solved every problem you couldn't in your stead.

but inevitably, at some point in time your world was bound to expand past him and your parents.

he'd lie if he said it doesn't pain him. you may not be seeking his advice on any and all matters in your life anymore, and he doesn't have as much direct influence on you, but that won't mean he doesn't want to help his lovely sibling from the sidelines. you needn't know about it, of course. Jin's had a 'talk' with one of the guys that used to pick on you at school, so what of it? he may or may not have used some connections and other ways of negotiation than simply verbalizing his opinion on this matter, but the guy no longer even dares to bat a strange look your way and that's all that matters.

you going through a rebellious phase in your teenage years was not on his to-do list. your parents used to nag you quite often abiut following your brother's example as a second-born of Kamurai family – albeit only when you were younger, Jin's grew up quite a hassle, you reckon, but that's not what matters. when he discovers you in his room, with a cigarette from his pack, greyish puffs of smoke appearing from between your lips, he's had his jaw on the floor for a moment. no perturbed remark about Jin's habit's poor impact on his health has ever made him regret having it as much as you picking it up after him did.

that day had certainly left a stain on both of you. you don't recall ever having a scolding more extended in time and profound of extremely colorful and graphic descriptions of what will happen to you if you keep that up and what bewilderingly amazing things you'll experience, which is rather impressive considering the exactingness of your parents, moderately seasoned with your brother's usual uncouthish rude manner of speaking.

you stood there with your head hung, repenting every single life decision you've made that got you to this point, but despite all, when you dare glimpse up for a split second – you swear you've seen some tears well up in Jin's eyes.

he may have severe trust issues. he doesn't let people sink their teeth into his heart easily, or generally – he's built those sky-high impenetrable walls around himself brick by brick for a list of reasons, over the years of emotional constipation and feeling alien to his peers. he struggles not to remain as cold and stone-faced around people he genuinely treasures because of it. you might receive a curt text from your brother every once in a while to 'be ready at 9' with no decorum whatsoever. you can ask questions all you want, they will be left unanswered – or rather unread anyway.

you would step out of the door dressed in your nicest clothing, a spick-and-span look that would make all the modeling agents swoon and Jin would still disparage it as tasteless, 'not suited for someone of your origin', and perhaps also 'we can't let you go in public in such a sorry state, now can we? and here I wanted to get a takeout from a nice restaurant'

you suspect him of simply seeking an excuse to take you out shopping for clothes – you've learned that giving you gifts and luxuries was the only way of expressing love he's mastered so far – but you decide not to say anything, complacently letting Jin escort you to his car.  ˖⑅~๑‿｡ ⁠.̮⁠ ｡`

[rub1anauruu]

ins-s-securities.

5 — first and last.

“just stay out of my way,” bakugo reminded for the umpteenth time.

“okay…”

you understood his annoyance perfectly. while the rest of his classmates coped with their tasks without any extra weight, bakugo was forced not only to tolerate your awkward steps next to him, but also to protect you if something happened. it was a mistake to think that you weren’t nervous. the phone, ready to be used at any moment, was clutched in your hand; your thumb soothingly stroked the screen of the gadget.

while you genuinely didn't want to be a burden for bakugo, you kept thinking about the possibilities. maybe some villains would show up, maybe someone here would need help. in those scenarios in your head, bakugo would neutralize the bad guys, you would get the right shots from the right angle, and everyone would be happy. including his friends, who had already managed to express their excitement about the future footage before the patrol began. and managed to tease bakugo. he blew their asses. you split up with them. that was it.

looking around, you took in the deplorable state of this part of the city. while it was slowly and surely continuing to be rebuilt by civilians and necessary quirks of heroes, its outskirts in places still remained seemingly abandoned. it was these areas that became the target of the underground world of villains, places where the shadows of the events of two years ago could crawl.

“sooo... U.A. often sends you to areas like this,” you assumed hesitantly, just to start some kind of conversation between the two of you. the silence was weighing on you, and you felt obligated to be proactive. “yeah. sometimes due to emergencies,” bakugo confirmed without further elaboration, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. you returned the gaze.

pause. and somewhere there you are banging your head against the wall.

“oh! those school armored trucks,” you quickly pointed your thumb behind you, “this is my first t-time riding in one of those.”

“well, enjoy your last ride,” katsuki said slightly grumpily and turned away, adjusting the belt on his winter suit. under the dark fabric, you could clearly see the flex of all his muscles, especially his biceps, which begged the question of how the fuck he got into such perfect shape? bakugo was seriously buffed and you couldn't help but stare at his side. there were no boys like him in your class. and god, it was kind of flattering to be paired with him for your project. it was reasonable after all.

bakugo tsked and asked with an emphasized jerk of his chin at your device: “so what? your shitty camera will be able to perfectly capture my explosions?”

“of course! i made sure i had the r-right settings for filming something that p-powerful,” you stuttered, instantly cringing at how jarring it sounded to your ears. you couldn’t even look at bakugo for fear of seeing discomfort on his face, but all you could hear from him was an amused huff. “yeah. you better do your best. you won’t have any more chances to see something so badass.”

just bakugo bragging. somewhere there you are now breathing a sigh of relief.

the two of you walked around the street assigned to katsuki for another ten minutes - no signs of illegal activity. you managed to take a few shots of the surroundings for documentary purposes, a couple more with a reluctant bakugo, which was surprisingly funny to you and contrasted with the sadness that overwhelmed you from the empty streets. kids' laughter no longer rang out here, in the evenings the bright streetlights no longer illuminated the path for families who went out for a walk...

“nothing will ever be the same again, right?” you asked bitterly, the colorful arcade sign to your left reminding you of the simple happiness and carefree times that were lost during that horrible period. bakugo didn’t miss your mood and rolled his eyes. “no, it will be better,” katsuki assured you and you thought ‘yes, everything has to be better. nothing less than better’. your attention was caught by a plush and strangely clean rabbit lying in your path, the size of a palm, blue as the sky and with a bow of the same color around its neck. probably used to exchange tickets from the arcade machines for it. you couldn’t resist and stopped to pick up the toy, pocketing your phone, until bakugo noticed and did the same with confusion a few steps ahead. “what?”

you curiously turned the rabbit over in your hand and felt the pull string on its back with your fingers, without thinking you wound up the toy, and a hissing melody began to play with barely discernible distorted lyrics of a children's song:

“wind me u-up and watch me go,

spreading joy in every row-w-w,”

nothing seemed suspicious to you. as the song continued, the string gradually shortened. just a cute rabbit with a creepy-sounding song.

“hopping here a-and hopping there,

with lo-o-o-love and laughter—“

“holy shit, drop it!” bakugo's suddenly wary voice cut off the end of the line.

“everywhereee…”

!!/notes from me:

i hope you’ll like the text part. i decided to add some interesting twists hehe. thank you for waiting for this update🩷 a little tmi: i watched venom 3 (COOL!) and haikyuu movie (OMG THEY ARE LIKE A NEW BREATH OF AIR I LOVE THEM SM).

au page.

[taglist mhaw open!]: @snoozebun @missmanda511

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 & 𝐑𝐞𝐝

"This one was supposed to come out right after the prologue, but I kept going in and out, switching things. Quite... boring, domestic recreation. Unless that is your style." - Ichor

Summary - "You’re set up with two practical boots. One was just grumpy and huge while the other was nervous and lean."

TW // None?

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| {Prologue}

Mornings were either you can have a good crisp one with a cool, summer breeze or a really bad one where you just have to make it to work with no way of stopping for any foods and drinks, and you were lucky it was one of the quiet mornings. Non of that quick, rushing and panicking type stuff. Not to mention that you woke up at a good time and went to work on time that you had found a bit of your morning (after putting on your equipment on) for some coffee to put a boost into your day.

“Thanks Joe, you’re always open at the best times.” You sigh, going up on your tippy toes of your boots to gather the two coffees in disposable cups you had ordered from his trailer. The warmth of the cup giving you a slight burning sensation before it let up a bit.

“Ahh, you flatter me!” The older man: Joe, and the owner of the trailer waves his worn hand at you, dismissing you quickly. “I’m just serving the best cop here.”

“Now you’re flattering me!” You laugh softly at the male. Going back down from your toes to stand flat on your boots like a normal person. “I’m certainly not the best, but I do try.”

“Aww, come on. Don’t say that.” Joe clearly disagrees with you, leaning forward a bit where his head was out of the window of his truck. His brown eyes and black, balding head being shown in the morning sunlight. “You definitely have the guts to be one. I would not be able to handle drunks and the physicality of the people 24/7.”

“Ah, don’t pull yourself down either.” You sigh, preparing to head back to the new… problems you have acquired today from the Sargent. The bastard gave you two practical recruits, just one was a Space Marine. “I don’t like the idea of being in a food service.”

“It’s not that bad.” He shrugs before letting you go. Leaning back up to serve some other customers. “…Have a good day, Sarge!”

Walking your way back to the little group of yours. You hand one of the coffees to the new human boot you were assigned, sliding it over the table he sat at. A lean, young man with crew cut blond hair and hazel eyes that have a rim of green in them. A rather nervous thing too.

“T-thanks.” He stammers, shivering as a cool breeze of the morning washes over the group. His hand slowly grasping at the cup as if you would restrict him of it. You wonder how he even got passed in training…

“Mhm, we got a good start.” You nod, carefully taking a sip of your hot coffee. Your eyes glancing to the Space Marine to your left. The man was definitely older than what they would call their own boots, looks like he has experience, and is mighty gruff with it too. His dull, almost blind-like blue eyes looking down at you with narrowed look while his undercut blond hair is slicked back. His lips thin, fitting perfectly with his rectangle face shape, and a few scratches of scars near his lips to match.

Good, now you have a profile just in case this man wants to get rough. You were not going to deal with the supposed growliness. You have heard that he was a bit… unfriendly with people.

“So… what are we doing today?” The recruit continues after putting down his cup for a moment. His last name: Chambers on his vest showing off to your attention. His eyes looking you at you. At least keeping contact.

“The basics.” You shift your weight. Holding your own cup to your side. “Responding to calls, patrolling the area, investigations, and perhaps make an arrest. Enforcing the law.”

He nods at you, looking you over. Playing with his cup before wearily looking up at the Marine that gives a cold look of his own. Your own eyes trying not to roll. “W-what about him?”

“He’s going along with the ride.” You sigh, watching the two of them closely. Seeing how the Marine- er “Xerxes Rivera” lip twitch. “Well with the walk. Considering we need to get authorization to get a cruiser that’s big enough for him to fit in and drive. So, we are reduced to just walking around the main points of the small town: Black Hallows.”

The recruit nods at you again, picking back up his cup to take another sip. His eyes still on Xerxes before looking away with a blush. Embarrassed or not? You’re not one to pry too much on such matters. You’re just trying to do your job that you get paid for doing it well. You don’t like standing around too often just because of some potential drama.

“We got uhhh… supposed crazy lady on Dark Wood road at the “Epoch Antiques.””

Your radio suddenly chatters. Your form turning around to look down the same main road you’re on. Your eyes seeing some commotion in the distance as you can hear the recruit get up from his seat, ready to start the day. Your free hand coming up to the radio and responding. “10-4.”

“Already?” The recruit asks, rounding the table and leaning over to his side to put his cup in the trash as you do the same. Putting your own cup in the same trash. Xerxes is off to the side, shifting in his armor, ready to walk with the group.

“All day, everyday.” You sigh, putting your hands on the collar of your vest and turning towards where the distant, reported commotion was. The steps of the boot and Space Marine falling in behind you. The weight of the marine sending a slight vibration through the ground. One would think they would crack the concrete below them, but they seemed light on their feet. A rather spooky fact to think too much about.

Heading over to the commotion, you watch a bit as this proclaimed “crazy lady” or rather Mrs. Elwood seems more… frustrated than angry. Misunderstood perhaps. A saddening and common thing that’s been set upon the elderly people, but she seems… well, again, angry… at a male nurse?

“Right, recruit. How do we handle this situation?” You ask your boot, testing him of his knowledge in these circumstances. “Keep them together? Apart? Calm the situation?”

“Um, apart?” He answers a bit hesitantly, unsure of his own answer to give you. His fingers giving a twitch from his sides. “Don’t we calm them too?”

“We do.” You nod, continuing on to engage with the reported problem. Wanting to encourage the noobie, but he’ll need his confidence sooner or later. “Take Mrs. Elwood and I shall take this… other, unknown person.”

The boot nods, walking forward to greet the older woman while you head over to the white male nurse. You’re not sure what Xerxes would do, considering you never had an Astartes accompany you, and you know full well they are trained in ways that were more efficient in your own species. They may look human, but so does a skinwalker. So, you just let the towering man be for now. Positioning yourself to watch the nurse in front of you, and your boot. You got a job to do.

“What seems to be the problem?” You ask first, shifting your weight as you wait for the man to reply. “Baselines” you remember Xerxes calling you, and anyone that was more… human, or just smaller than him.

“This lady: Mrs. Elwood,” The man starts, a bit jittery. Is he faulting of something he did, or was he just having anxiety about what he had done? Or what happened? “I’m her nurse, so I know her on like… A nurse level, you know?”

“Yeah.” You nod, agreeing just to get more information out of him. Or when you just want a conversation to end, but you are listening.

“So, like, I see her quite a bit, right?” He continues, threading his hand through his short brown hair. Seemingly stressed. “And then suddenly she’s just… yelling at me, like I haven’t been caring for her after a few months.”

“After a few months?” You raise your brow, shifting your weight again. Having a mild guess of why her mood could switch up, and she a mostly friendly little gal of the town. “You look new here.”

“I- yeah. I am. A bit.” He stammers then pauses, making you wonder if this is his first time on the job, alone. Being alone in public or with another stranger could make one uneasy. “Just today doesn’t seem like my day. I um, I come from Elk Rise. Been transferred here.”

“Ah, Elk Rise. It’s another small town right?” You hum, remembering that rustic, cozy town. Living up to its name from having elk wandering about in the mountains to avoid the heat and bugs, and well. Those hooves animals liked to give birth up there.

“Yeah! Been there before?” He asks, looking pleased that you know of such town. His arms folding against his chest, more calm than before. Less stressed.

“Here and there with… family. Its very pretty up there when dusk or dawn arrives.” You nod again. A thing you just do automatically when listing to people, and agreeing. You do it a lot that you even notice it yourself afterward work. “I like how the sun and moon are barely casting their glow between the mountain peaks.”

“You make it sound as if its a fantasy land.” The young man jokes, scoffing playfully. Defiantly in a more better mood than what he was before.

“Eh, you’ll understand it once you get older.” You muse yourself, shaking your head slightly. “Now, do you have your ID on you? Or know your own name at least?”

“Right! Um, I’m Carson Harloe.” He perks up, most likely wanting to obey they law. His hand coming out to shake, and you take it. You hand grasping his with a nice, and rather polite shake.

“Well, Mr. Harloe. Have you been advised Mrs. Elwood has an Astartes of her own?” You ask him, tilting your head slightly. “She gets a bit… snappy you could say once he comes back.”

“What? No, I wasn’t aware.” Carson shakes his head. “I was just told to “deal with her.” The exact words from someone else of my job.”

“Hm, sounds like you’ve met Judy Welles.” You shift your weight. Not tired of standing just a bit restless. “She’s… known to not love her job but does it anyway. For some reason she has a bit of a quarrel with Mrs. Elwood. The 5’5”, dirty blond, green eyed woman, right?”

“Yeah! Seems like she's a grouchy person as well. I mean, when she was talking to me, demanding me. She did not sound like a good person.” The young nurse shifts his weight for a change.

“Yeah, this town is a bit full of Night Lords, but its rather peaceful besides the occasional break in report of a Night Lord staring at one while they sleep, and/or free, unwilling cuddles in bed.” You reflect on a quite amusing situation of this town. It wasn’t like it was owned by the Night Lord, but it was just really well known to have Night Lords around, and to be bonded to one, and believe it or not? This was one of the safest towns to be at.

“Wait, what?”

Well, perhaps its known within the town, not outside of it.

“Yeah, they mean no harm… Most of the time. Just be wise not to peeve off their bonded.” You wanted to give a huff of a laugh at his sudden realization, but you keep to your professionalism.

“B-But you just said Mrs. Elwood has one.” The man stammers, giving a quick point towards the woman that looked rather enamored with the new boot. The poor guy was getting his cheeks squished! For Xerxes? He looked like he was missile locking on everything in the area… Dose he even know how to greet the public properly?

“Yeah? Don’t be too worried about it.” Again, you shift your weight. Somewhat amused with his reaction. “These bat-like men can be rather reasonable too. It more of the World Eaters you have to watch out for. Nothing against them of course, but they have their reputation.”

“…So, your sure her Night Lord won’t launch me into the sky?” Carson asks. Hesitant for the real answer.

“At most, he would stare you down like how this Ultramarine: Xerxes is doing.” Your hand gestures over to the said blue Mairne. Who in turn looks over to you, giving you a suspicious glare. “See? Not that bad.”

“He looks like he’s going to…” He pauses, unsure of how to put his words but just says them anyway. “Like he’s going to kill you.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s been doing that since he wandered into this town.” A sigh leaves you. Another shake of your head acting out. “Though, he hasn’t done anything drastic, yet.”

A grumbled huff leaves the Ultramarine. His head twitching back as if he was offended by such a simple word. His gauntlets folding over his chest plate with a dull thud, glaring at you some more. Was this really just going to become his hobby? A long time thing? Glaring at you, and only you? You really hope not. You could ignore him, but you would honestly preferer it the other way around.

“So, like… do I need an restraining order or…?” Carson buts in, wanting a safe answer.

“Hmm?” You turn your attention back to him. “Oh, no, no. You don’t. Well, what did you do that got Mrs. Elwoods’ angry?”

“Nothing!” He exclaims lightly, throwing his arms out for a second. “I was just doing my job. Caring for for her, you know? Picking up a few things for her, giving her her meds and the company she deserves. Nothing so stupid that would have the law on me.”

You give him a look over, reading him of his truth: no averting eyes, no shaking form, he’s not sweaty either, and doesn’t smell intoxicated. He seems clean despite his worried look in those brown eyes of his. Seems more honest and devoted than Judy, at least.

“You can search me if you like!” He hold his hands up in surrender. “I have got nothing on me except medical stuff, if that counts-!”

The young man suddenly yelps, jumping up in the air and turning around to face the Night Lord behind him that has leaned down to his level to spook him a bit. His body nearly bumping into yours. “OH MY CHEEZITS!”

You give the man an amused look, looking between the two. Recognizing the Night Lord being Mrs. Elwoods. You have never caught the name of the Night Lord, but you can recognize the difference's he has with his other brethren. He had some sewed up… “fabric” you wanted to say for his “loin cloth” that he didn’t need for his armor protected him, but the particular color of the thread: bright pink, caught your attention. (No, you weren't looking at anything else.) Not only that, but he gave off a more… elderly aura. Smelled like he has a hint of- what do those old people use? Lavender? Hibiscus? Either way, he has a hint of that elderly smell on him.

“You might want the get used to that.” You muse, putting your gaze back onto the nurse. “But not too much.”

“This is what you people deal with?!” The nurse nearly hisses, but he’s more shocked? Surprised than anything. “24/7?!”

“Mhm, not 24/7, but it is a bit common.” You respond, shifting in your spot. Ready to leave this more… domestic situation behind, everything was- has calmed down with a simple talk. Even Mrs. Elwood with the way she was still cooing at the new boot. “Oh, and also? He’s going to be on you for a bit. Here and there.”

“…What?”

“Alright, boot! Xerxes! Let’s get a move on. We got more pressing reports to respond to!”

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000, @passionofthesith, @insanity6666.” - Tagged

[ellethespaceunicorn]

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Marked By The Wolf

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors – DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: ~4.8K (ya waited extra-long; ya get an extra-long chapter)

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: It’s the night of the full moon. The plan? Invite Sy over to the cabin to keep an eye on him in case he shifts. WCGW? 

Warnings: verbal fight, angst

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me, guys! And I see y’all reblogging the masterlist for the series. And I thank you so much for keeping this story alive! A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this. Cuz ya girl was struggling with this chapter for many moons.

Dividers by me

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Over the next day or so, you get to know Jace. You’d learned his full first name, but “only ko’u makuahine calls me Jason”. Growing up in Hawaii shaped the man he is today, and he misses home a lot. But with Walter in his pack, and being Faye’s godfather, he’s made his own little family.

For a while, it seems like he may be flirting with you. But that quickly fades into something else. You’re only mildly upset when he refers to you as kaikuahine. Firstly, because you had no idea what it meant. Secondly, because when you found out it meant ‘sister’, you had to remind yourself that you have a perfectly great werewolf boyfriend of your own already.

‘Calm down, girl,’ you thought, thinking of your eager beaver.

Walter notices the way your demeanor changes and takes your hand, leading you upstairs. Your confusion only amuses Jace, who seems to know something you don’t. Once you make it into Walter’s bedroom, you are spun against the door. He attacks your neck, licking and nipping at the sensitive flesh until you tangle your fingers in his chestnut curls. Your mind reels, wondering what’s gotten into him.

And then it hits you.

He’s…jealous!

Oh, this is too good. That’s twice tonight that he’s been struck with jealousy. Earlier with Sy’s thirst trap and now with your flirtatious nature. You are beyond flattered, but you refuse to let this man get too far gone. With your hand in his hair, you tighten your fingers and pry him from your neck.

Once his face is in front of yours, you notice his wild eyes where black replaces blue. He looks ready to eat you, and as much as you would like that, you decide to try and calm the beast within.

“Walter, baby? I need you to calm down for a sec,” you beg, both hands tangling in his hair to soothe his soul, “Come on back to me, baby.”

Blinking once, then twice, his eyes finally focus on you, and the trance is gone. His giant paws rush to your face and then to the tender skin of your neck where his teeth were grazing. He winces when you grimace at the feel of his thumb on your sore flesh.

“Pup, I am so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I was−”

“Jealous?” you supply, already knowing what this was.

“I can’t help it. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. It’s jealousy, sure. But it feels deeper than that. I felt the need to mark you as mine. You’re sort of a natural flirt, you know that?” he probes, a soft smile on his face.

“Well, I mean, I can see that. I guess I’ve never really thought about it. No one has ever brought it up,” you explain, looking back on all the times that men thought you were flirting with them but were just being nice. 

“Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to make sure that Jace knew you were taken. He has an effect on women,” he expresses, “But it seems he only sees you as a sister, so I don’t have to worry about you two riding off into the sunset, now do I?” 

“Wow, that was kinda bitchy. But also, incredibly hot that you thought I could be influenced by another big pretty werewolf,” you tease, leaning up on your tippy toes to place a kiss on the end of his nose before pushing back from the door so you could open it and leave.

“You think he’s pretty?” Walter shouts after you.

You laugh, swiftly jogging down the stairs to find an equally amused Jace sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, perfectly at home.

Trying to keep yourself from feeling embarrassed, you plop down next to him on the couch. While you are snuggling into his side, he chuckles and jokes that you should watch out for “the big, bad wolf”. Just as the words leave his mouth, Walter appears on the other side of you, having leapt over the couch. You’re officially squeezed in between the two large wolves, and you suddenly feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Between the warmth radiating from both men, the way they commented on the Forged in Fire episode playing in the background, and the long day finally catching up with you, you had no choice but to fall asleep. You remember leaning your head against Jace’s beefy shoulder after he splayed both arms along the back of the couch. At some point during the night, you awake to find yourself sprawled across both of their laps. Your head is in Walter’s lap and your blanket-covered feet are shoved under Jace’s thigh.

The television screen asking if you’re still watching illuminates the faces of the snoring wolves at either side of you. Walter’s hand on your shoulder twitches as he feels you shifting. Shuffling your ankles, Jace sleepily readjusts to give you room before lowering his thigh back over your feet. All of this was done while they were asleep as if it was second nature to want to keep you safe and warm.

And you weren’t going to complain about being in a literal wolf pile. Instead, you snuggle into your blanket and let yourself drift off again.

When you awaken, the mid-morning sun is flooding through the windows. You’re still on the couch, but no longer surrounded by your wolf-shaped furnaces. Getting up from the couch, you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and go in search of coffee. 

Shuffling into the kitchen, you brush past where Walter is plating some waffles. You make it to the coffee machine and pour yourself a cup, adding in your sugar and cream and stirring it until it hits that perfect shade. Taking that first sip is nirvana. As the temperature of the hot beverage slides down your throat, you are warmed from the inside out. Now, you can officially say you have woken up.

You turn around to lean against the counter and are surprised to see both wolves looking at you and smiling. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just we were trying to get your attention, but I see Walter was right about you loving java. You have your priorities straight, is all,” Jace winks at you before sipping his coffee.

Walter chuckles and shoves a plateful of waffles, bacon, and eggs to one of the empty seats and nods for you to eat. “Don’t worry, Pup. I think it’s cute that you need your morning fuel before intelligent social interaction.”

“Thanks, Wolfie,” you hum, leaning in to peck him on the cheek before sitting down to tuck into your plate.

“And the nicknames are elevating my sugar levels as we speak,” Jace teases, expertly catching the waffle that Walter throws his way.

“Look, Jace and I have an idea. We just need you to put the pieces in motion,” Walter begins, explaining the plan to you while you eat. You stayed mostly silent, letting him lay everything out.

Jace pops in here and there with a few tweaks when he sees you start to feel a bit overwhelmed, “If at any time you feel uncomfortable, don’t hesitate. We’re there in case anything happens.”

“I guess I have a call to make. Oh, and do you fellas think you can go grocery shopping? I need a few things if I wanna make sure I have enough to feed all of you,” you lament, factoring in that Sy used to eat you out of house and home on multiple occasions. Might as well have too much than too little. You give Wolfie and Jace your shopping list and head upstairs to shower and make a very important phone call.

Early evening rolls in and you are relishing the smell of your pot roast with vegetables simmering as it permeates the first floor of the house. Wolfie has been at your side for most of the afternoon and even now because you’ve been like a chicken with your head cut off, anxious nerves making you fuss over every little thing. 

And he couldn’t blame you for being on high alert. He did ask you to invite over your ex-fiancé during a full moon, under the guise of getting together for a football game, so that he and Jace could find out if Sy is a werewolf. ‘A simple plan,’ said no one in this situation.

Olivia was invited over to help you set up and possibly help you with cooking. But alas, fair Olivia has found her Prince Charming in Jace. And just as Walter said, he does have an effect on women. You have to stop and giggle to yourself as she throws her head back in laughter and touches his arm, her signature move. Great, those two can swoon each other all night while you try and keep the peace between a wolf and a hard place.

The roast was not going to cook any faster with you standing over the crock pot, so you step away from the kitchen and join the others as they sit in the living room. Jace and Liv sit on the couch as Walter sits in one of the loungers. Just as you sit down to rest your bones in the other chair, you notice the guys exchanging a look. 

You hear the rumble of Sy’s old pickup and your heart drops into your stomach. You shoot up from your seat and adjust your turtleneck dress that hugs your body like a glove before walking to the front door. You step outside as Sy is pulling into the driveway. Swallowing your apprehension, you walk across the lawn to meet him. 

Smiling as he exits his truck, Sy wraps you up in a bear hug. When he lifts you off the ground, you squeak, and he just laughs before putting you back down. You get a whiff of him, and you feel an instant urge to bury your nose in his neck, or his perfectly trimmed beard. Fighting that urge, you playfully swat at Sy’s meaty, flannel-clad bicep and try not to stare at his veiny forearms. 

The man always had great arms; you would have complimented him on them once upon a time. But that was a long time ago, and even though you wanted to devour him where he stood, you weren’t about to let him know that. His head was big enough without you adding your horniness to it.

He steps to the truck bed and reaches a hand in to pick up a case of your favorite beer. He seems pretty pleased with himself and not at all nervous about meeting your new boyfriend. You should’ve known better than to think he would miss the opportunity to annoy your current beau.

You lead him inside where he immediately sniffs the air and exclaims, “Oh, my God! Please tell me that is your pot roast.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and nervously reply, “Um, yeah. It’s probably just about done if you want some.”

“If I want some? Of course, it’s my favorite meal,” Sy earnestly comments, and you can’t help but bashfully thank him.

A throat is cleared, and Walter appears at your side, planting a nuzzling kiss on your neck as he snakes an arm around you, making you giggle. 

“Walter, this is Sy. Sy, this is Walter, my boyfriend,” you introduce them, smiling to yourself as they offer a hand for a handshake and exchange pleasantries.

“Pleasure ta meetcha, Walter.” “Likewise, Sy.” 

They were still shaking each other’s hands until you realized they were having a staring contest. 

“Seriously?!” you gripe, equally mad at both of them, “You’re both grown men, right?” You push through their still-joined hands and go into the kitchen.

Olivia rises from the couch and admonishes them as well, “Good going, guys,” as she follows you into the kitchen.

“What?” they say in unison, looking at the only other man in the room. Jace shakes his head, looking between the two of them and taking a pull off his beer.

Walter walks into the kitchen, already apologizing as he approaches where you are sitting at the table. He takes your hand in his and holds it against his chest. It’s less what he says, and more of how he says it. He sounds genuine and he means every word. You peck him on the cheek, forgiving him. Olivia makes sure to tease you about how cute you two are.

Sy saunters in once Walter exits, placing the case of beer on the kitchen counter before opening it, removing two bottles, and handing one to you. Clinking the neck of his bottle against yours, he uncaps his and takes and takes a long pull. Taking a long look at you, he leans back and surveys your level of anger, trying to assess exactly how mad you are.

“Walter seems nice,” he starts in that fatherly tone that always gets a smile out of you. 

You shake your head and laugh despite yourself wanting to be mad at him. “You know, he actually is very nice. Just give him a chance to surprise you before you hate his guts, ok? That’s all I ask.”

“Oh, is that all? Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he grumbles, pouting for a second. “Look, I’ll be on my best behavior like Church on Sunday if I can get some of that pot roast.” He turns those blue topaz eyes on you, and you’re putty in his hands, suddenly wishing Liv wasn’t in the room to watch that little moment. 

You rise from your seat, dishing out some of the roast and potatoes and carrots onto a plate for Sy, and place it in front of him. You light up when he closes his eyes at the first bite. His groan of satisfaction is more than enough to signal that you did a great job. But the pat he gives your knee is so warm and so intimate that your muscles instantly react to his touch, wishing it lingered for a second more.

“Liv, can Sy and I have a second to talk?” you plead, hoping that she would give you some space.

“Sure. I’ll just go back to fawning over Jace. He’s so pretty I wanna cry,” she professes, patting your shoulder as she exits the kitchen.

Your eyes follow Olivia as she leaves, and then they snap back to where Sy is sitting smiling at you. And you know this particular smile well. 

“Sy, why are you smiling at me like that? You said you would be on your best behavior and that smile is not your best behavior,” you sigh, rolling your eyes, “I know that smile got me to do a lot of things back in the day.”

“A lot of fun things come to mind,” he murmurs, bringing his beer up to his lips to drain before rising to get another and lean on the counter, “But that is not why I’m here tonight. Don’t worry, I’m only here to make sure my favorite girl’s being taken care of. I will be a perfect gentleman, even to yer old man.”

Rising from your seat, you finally open your beer and stand next to him. Taking a sip, you bump his shoulder with yours. “One question I have for you. Why did you agree to come over? I mean, you could have hung up the phone or cursed me out when I asked you over to spend time with me. At my boyfriend’s cabin. In the woods. Just saying that now makes me wonder what was going through your head.”

“Not gonna lie, I loved seeing you the other day. Even though you weren’t exactly pleased to see me, you still told me to be careful out there in the woods. Look, I like having you in my life. If that means I have you as a friend, it’s much better than not having you at all,” he confesses, and your world shatters around you when you look up into his eyes and see his sincerity.

You open your mouth to speak but the words won’t take shape and you’re left looking for the answer in his face. The eyes you got lost in a million times before. The lips you kissed every chance you got. Standing this close, you can breathe each other’s breath. If you only stood on your tippy-toes and leaned in, you’d be right−

“Am I interrupting something?” Olivia’s voice snaps you back to reality and you put some space between you and Sy. She walks in between you two to grab another beer. She gives Sy a look before turning her attention to you, “Your boyfriend’s wondering where you are, bee-tee-dubs.” She throws out her arm, gesturing for you to lead the way back to the living room instead of finishing your conversation. You miss her giving Sy another pointed stare before following you out.

The night goes on as planned, at first. You all watch a college football game, Walter’s alma mater vs their rivals, who just happen to be Sy’s alma mater. You and Sy met after college, and he mentioned having played lacrosse, but he’s never shown interest in football. Until tonight, of course.

It’s been a long time since you and Sy spent time together, but you know his temperament. And he’s off. He doesn’t look like himself either, as if he’s covering up something. With the way that Walter and Jace keep sharing looks, you see he is on their radar as well.

Olivia and Jace occupy the two loungers, so you are sitting in between Walter and Sy on the couch. How lucky! You’re in the perfect spot to listen to Sy rooting loudly for his team and making snide comments all because he doesn’t wanna sit next to you and your new boyfriend. 

Walter, on the other hand, is quiet for the most part but trembling with anger. He’s letting Sy get to him, and you can’t stand it anymore. You’re suddenly jealous of Olivia who fell asleep halfway into the game.

You unwrap yourself from around Walter and turn to Sy. “Kitchen. Now.”

He doesn’t answer and mutely follows you, taken aback when you turn on him once you’re both in the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing? You are being such an ass. I’m trying to hold out an olive branch, but you are not meeting me in the middle, Sy,” you snap, feeling like you could spit fire.

“And why did you even invite me? To parade your new man all over me? I thought maybe we could try and be friends, but now I see all you wanna do is remind me that I wasn’t good enough for you,” Sy erupts, his voice booming and full of rage. 

“That’s not fair,” you gasp.

“All’s fair in love, Bug,” he cautions, sweat starting to drip down his forehead, “Look, I’m gonna go before either of us says something we’ll regret.” He turns and storms out of the kitchen before you can step any closer to him, but you are on his tail when he steps out of the front door.

You reach him, putting your hand on his shoulder as you try to stop him. He turns back to you, his eyes closed in a pained expression. His skin is flushed as he rips open his flannel, making it easier for you to see his Adonis belt just above his jeans. The bite mark is nowhere to be seen, having already healed. When he starts to hyperventilate, you try to soothe him by calling his name. Fast as lightning, Walter appears between you and Sy.

“Sy, you have to try and stay calm. You aren’t making this easy on yourself. Let it happen,” Walter holds his hands out, showing he means no harm as he tries to step closer to Sy. Walter starts to shift after removing his sweater and jeans.

“Back off, man,” Sy warns, feeling like he could explode with the heat beneath his skin.

“You can do this, just open your eyes,” Walter replies, before his mouth becomes a snout and talking is impossible.

But when Sy finally opens his eyes, they start to glow. His neck twists at a freakish angle, the sounds of bones crunching has you terrified. Reddish-brown fur sprouts out of his skin as his hands stretch into clawed paws. His confused screams are horrifying. Jace’s booming voice is talking over his cries, talking him through the transformation. 

Doubling over, Sy grunts in agony as he falls on all fours. Letting out a howl, his jeans fall away as he transforms for the first time. You scream, taking a step back when he sniffs the air and he takes one step toward you. 

Sy paces back and forth in front of Walter, seeming to weigh his options. Walter’s wolf form stands an inch or two taller than Sy as he puts distance between you and the new wolf.

Just as the tension is insurmountable, a throat is cleared, and you all look to see Jace standing in the driveway. Nonchalant, but his eyes keenly take in the scene in front of him as he nods at Walter. Olivia is at Jace’s side, dumbfounded by what she is witnessing. When she notices that rumbling sound coming from Jace is him growling, she throws away fear in place of curiosity.

The two wolves are kicking dust up with their feet, squaring off until Jace steps a bit closer to back up his brother. Sy had a chance of maybe beating Walter. But a new wolf up against two bonded brother wolves? No way in hell. 

You step in between the three of them. Holding out your hands, you plead with them not to fight. Walter’s nose nudges at your legs and he huffs in Sy’s face. Walter shifts back, picking up his jeans to put back on, and crossing his arms across his massive chest.

Walter and Jace move closer to Sy as he snarls at them until he sees you, clinging to Olivia. Tears fall from your eyes and something inside of Sy breaks. Looking to you, he can see the fear on your face and you wonder if that is what causes him to want to shift back into human form. The two brothers talk Sy down, telling him how to return to human form.

Once his bones have settled and the whining howls stop, Sy is in the fetal position on the lawn. Shivering, sweaty, and scared. His clothes are ruined, but you think you remember seeing a blanket in the truck bed earlier. You ask Olivia to get the blanket while you caress Sy’s face. 

Once the blanket is around his middle, you accept help from Walter to lift him up. Sy uses his last ounce of energy to push Walter away. 

Coming back to himself, Sy refocuses his anger on Walter. “This has nothing to do with you. Gonna need you to step aside,” Sy fumes, cranky from the changes he doesn’t understand he’s going through.

“That’s just not gonna happen. Maybe if you weren’t trying to move in on what’s mine, I’d be sorry for what I’ve done,” Walter seethes, “After all, I’m the one that bit you.”

You and Sy are both in a state of shock but for different reasons. Sy just found out werewolves are real, and your boyfriend just referred to you as “what’s his'. 

“You did this to me?” Sy’s rage peaks.

“Hey, hey. Focus on my voice, come back. You don’t wanna do this,” you trail off as Sy calms down. 

His irises are back to their brilliant blue and you can see recognition in them. He looks tired, but he is no worse for wear.

“Can we get outta here? Go someplace we can just…talk?” Sy insists.

You think for a second about how pissed you are at Walter for being extremely callous about turning Sy, not to mention talking about you as if you were a piece of property to be owned. You turn to look back at Walter before answering Sy.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you affirm, putting one of Sy’s arms around your neck to help him walk back to his truck. 

You watch Jace stand in front of Walter to stop him from following after you. “Let her cool off, you did just kinda refer to her as ‘what’s mine’, and generally women don’t like that outside of the bedroom.”

Olivia steps over to Walter, putting a hand on his shoulder, her expression calm and collected. “He won’t hurt her. He cares too much about her to do that.”

You get into the driver’s seat after putting Sy in the passenger side, not allowing him to drive. You caution a glance at Walter, instantly regretting looking at his mournful face. Turning the car on, you back out of the driveway and drive out to Sy’s place. 

As you drive there from muscle memory, you look over at Sy now and then. The streetlights of the town dash across his solemn face and bare chest as he sleeps. You almost don’t want to wake him when you make it to his house, he looks so peaceful and not like his life has been turned upside-down. You wake him with the back of your hand smoothing down his face. He grabs it, lost for a moment before he sees your face and where he is.

You help him get inside and suddenly feel exhausted as well. You loiter in the living room while he grabs a glass of water from the kitchen. You didn’t really plan how you were going to get back to Walter’s cabin tonight. And if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t want to go back tonight.

Sy comes back out, gulping down water from his glass while holding the blanket low around his middle. 

“Is it okay if we wait to talk? I’m tired as hell. I’ll take the couch if that’s alright?” You ask, sitting down on the couch and starting to move the pillows.

“You’re not staying out here. You’re sleeping in the bedroom. I’ll take the couch. I’ll grab you something to sleep in,” he rattles on, moving to the bedroom as you stand from the couch and look at your feet.

Sy comes back out to the living room. He’s barefoot, shirtless, and in a pair of grey sweatpants. He just can’t help himself, you think.

“I left you a shirt and some shorts on the bed. Let me know if you need anything, alright?” he advises, using a hand on the small of your back to guide you to the bedroom.

You laugh when you see Sy left you his Mötley Crüe shirt. While putting on the shirt and the boxers, you look at the bed and you know that you don’t want to sleep alone. You don’t care that this will only further complicate your relationship, but you need to not be alone right now. Your bare feet pad across the wood floor as you go back out to the living room. 

Sy hears you and picks his head up to look at you. “You alright, Bug?”

“I don’t wanna sleep alone. I know that’s probably−”

Sy was already up and ushering you back into the bedroom before you could finish your sentence. You pull back the covers so you both can climb in. You enter first and then he slides under the blanket next to you. He lays on his back, you on your side facing away from him. You wiggle your body backward until you come into contact with his warmth. You reach back for his arm and pull it around you.

“Is this okay?” you hesitate, suddenly afraid that you’re asking too much.

“Yeah. S’ok,” he whispers, his breath fanning across your neck. If he notices the shiver that goes down your spine, you’re grateful that he doesn’t mention it.

“Good night, Sy,” you murmur, yawning at the end of your sentence.

“G’night, Bug,” he breathes.

As you drift off to sleep, you think how different you imagined this day ending. You didn’t expect to be in your ex’s arms tonight instead of Walter’s. But you did expect to be in a werewolf’s embrace. Sy’s breath evens out behind you, the rising and falling of his chest against your back is enough to lull you into a peaceful slumber.

To be continued...

A/N: I would love to know what you think of this chapter!

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[natasha-in-space]

Birthday gift for myself that turned into Valentines gift that then turned into just a gift for no particular special occasion... Who's the slowest creator around? Confident Ray is very dear to me, so have a self-indulgent one-shot to go along with it :3

"-Here. I... wasn’t sure what you’d want to drink. My Savior said that champagne is never a bad choice in a gathering like this. It's not my taste, but... I'm sure she knows better when it comes to these things."

Ray wanted nothing more than to make a good impression on her, so when he finally plucked up the bravery to approach her, he felt a little embarrassed. He wanted make her eyes light up once they landed on him. However, a big part of him understood that was probably a fool's errand; he was far too busy making sure everyone in Magenta was safe and getting ready for tonight's party to even have time to get dressed up. It was hard to not feel disappointed in himself, a familiar sting of self-loathing settling deep within his chest, in that cozy corner of his heart reserved just for this ugly feeling alone. He hoped he could at least improve in the future. For her. But he ought to at least check that she was having fun.

They don't get to enjoy a lavish party like this one very often. Those held by the RFA did not stand a chance to this. His Savior knew how to provide genuine happiness to everyone in attendance. It was a night of magical bliss and paradise.

Ray examined her from head to toe for a moment, admiring her dress. He's seen it on the rack before, of course - he wouldn't gift her something he did not personally approve of - but it was hard to not take a closer look regardless. The flowing black dress, high collar, and puffy, see-through sleeves accentuated her shape superbly and gave her a distinct charm that was uniquely hers. Those star-shaped sequences sprinkled over the soft fabric of her sleeves sparkled under the chandeliers just like real stars in the night sky would. In his eyes, anyway. A fitted, black corset was just the perfect cherry on top to fully take his breath away.

Her appearance was as stunning as the bright summer night sky. While he certainly had a preference for all things pink and bright when it came to her, seeing her in something that she herself was happy to wear was more fulfilling than any puffy princess dress. The tight, flattering corset that perfectly fitted her shape gradually captured all Ray's attention, despite his efforts to appear composed. It was hard not to stare. In fact, he was pretty sure he failed on that already, mentally cursing himself for looking like a bumbling fool.

In any case, he had to force himself to return to the present moment when he saw her eyes narrow a little behind her glasses as she turned to face him and apparently took him in. He tried to not shift under her gaze too much, acutely aware of his own lack of proper fitting attire. To his relief, however, she simply nodded slightly, smiling, and taking the champagne from him.

"Ah, thank you! You didn't have to bring me a drink, but I do appreciate it."

He silently hoped she would enjoy the refreshing, bubbly drink as he watched her take a sip. It's not as if he could test this one for her before handing it over. It was one of those few things he just couldn't bring himself to do. But his discomfort was not nearly as important as her own enjoyment tonight.

He quietly coughed into his fist, trying to divert his eyes from her lips as they closed around the rim of the glass, and instead decided to take a sip of his own drink. It was just cool watermelon juice. Every time, his Savior was kind enough to provide him non-alcoholic drinks. She didn't have to do that. Not drinking anything at all would be alright with him. But it was a kindness he wanted to appreciate nonetheless.

"Of course... I want to make you feel welcome." After giving her another glance, he made the decision to give her the credit she deserves. "You look absolutely breathtaking in that dress, by the way."

She seemed almost bashful as she smiled a little at the comment, her hand fiddling with a lock of her hair and her eyes briefly darting to the floor. He knew she was not used to someone complimenting her appearance of all things. She was always commended for her intelligence rather than her beauty. He wanted to be an exception to that. Give her everything she wasn't given before.

"...Thanks. You're not so bad yourself."

He was left cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy, even if he did detect the mischievous overtones in her comment. "Oh... I'm afraid I didn't have time to pick up a fitting outfit for tonight."

Her smile grew into a full grin: "Yeah, so? I still think you look beautiful."

Ray couldn't help but smile back, feeling, for the first time in a long while, pretty proud of himself. It was funny, how much of an effect just a couple of kind words from her could do.

"Thank you." Since he has never received many compliments in his life, the truth is that he was never particularly good at accepting them either. Knowing that a wonderful person like her thought he was beautiful was more than gratifying for his ego. He felt more relaxed thanks to her. He looked around the spacious room, taking in the decor: crystal chandeliers, velvet couches, marble flooring. Everything was a reflection of the lavish celebration taking place around them. He sighed, lowering his voice so that their exchange remained somewhat private to just them two: "Truth be told... I never was a fan of events like these. It's... far too bright and crowded. And I'm expected to be on my best behavior. I know my Savior would be greatly disappointed in me, should she catch ear of this... I wish I could be better for her."

"I suppose I can get that," she murmured, leaning against the wall. With a quiet giggle, she placed her champagne glass on the nearest table and snatched up his own glass instead, taking a sip. She seemed to enjoy it, humming in satisfaction before continuing: "There's some unspoken pressure to be... a certain way, I guess? Although I never really attended gatherings like this before. Which... might be obvious."

It was, indeed, pretty clear to Ray that she was not accustomed to this type of situation. She looked disoriented and out of place, as if she didn't truly belong here. He was all too familiar with that feeling. Resting against the wall next to her, he crossed his arms, watching her enjoy his juice with a small smile. She threw away the expensive champagne for his simple drink instead, which somehow moved him. Almost like a wordless 'I like you better' assurance exchanged between them.

"It... might be a little obvious. You do look a little tense." Smiling, he put a kind hand on her shoulder. "Don’t worry. No one will bite you here. I'll make sure of it."

She shook her head and laughed at that. The sound of her beautiful laugh made Ray's smile only grow. If only briefly, he was happy to have diverted her attention from the oppressive atmosphere. Teasing and joking around was not something he was all that confident in. It felt natural with her, though.

"I hope not."

"-Trust me, everyone is just trying to honor our Savior tonight. You don't have to worry about anyone putting any pressure on you." He retrieved his juice from her with ease, taking a sip himself, and then gesturing with the flute to her. "And, to me... you’re the most interesting thing here so far."

At that, she raised her brows a little, blinking up at him. He supposed his compliment did come out of a blue. Of course, he wouldn't take it back.

"Not to sound like a skeptic, but there's very little interesting about me from where I'm standing. I think I barely left this corner the entire night."

Ray gave her a sidelong glance with a tiny inclination of his head. It did seem like she was a bit of a wallflower at this party. Standing here all alone, avoiding the crowds…? He frowned slightly.

"Well, let’s change that." He gave her a gentle shoulder bump. "You trust me, right?"

After maintaining silent eye contact with him for about a minute, she nodded. "Of course."

Ray gently pulled her along by reaching down and taking her hand, his gloved fingers closing around hers with a light but steadying grip.

"I'm glad to hear that. Let’s go dance."

On any other occasion, he may have been fine with just sitting and looking pretty all night, if only his Savior was happy with his presence being seen by other believers. But tonight, he had energy and charm. Why not show it off for her? It sounded like a brilliant way to impress her. And he did want her to be impressed with him. Plus, he was not about to let her wallow here all alone.

Her legs stumbled forward clumsily, her eyes widening in surprise as she was pulled along. She stared at him, a silent question in her green eyes. That was certainly not what she was expecting.

"W-Wait, huh? I don't-"

In the moment, Ray couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her.

Through her eyes alone, he could nearly hear the words that hung on the tip of her tongue. That wide-eyed: 'I have no idea how to do this!' look. Of course, he could understand that. It was one thing for her to dance all alone in her own room, and it was completely another to do it in a whole crowd of people. Not to mention a waltz. Knowing her, she was probably thinking of all the ways she could make a fool of herself, realistic and utterly ridiculous alike. Given that she was wearing heels, he did attempt to be extra cared with her. It took her a whole day of training to just walk on them properly without wobbling!

However, he found her awkward attempts to move down the corridor in her new heels to be a cute sight in and of itself.

"Hey, easy. I've got you. Walk with me, don’t just follow." With a quiet laugh, he placed one hand on her hip. He held her, guiding her as he took the lead. He was nearly breathless from how delightfully easy it seemed. Being in control felt right, natural. And he was rarely in control like this before. His hand squeezed her waist lightly: "Just trust me."

He knew, of course, that this was her first time participating in a true slow dance with someone, and that she might not have danced quite like this previously. But he was more than experienced in this. After all, he needed to serve as an example in those rare instances of his Savior deciding to lead a dance with him. Although, he was never the one leading the dance before.

It felt... quite nice, actually. To be the one fully in control for once.

She opened her mouth to refute, but then closed it, deciding to humor him in spite of everything. Instead, she let out a small exasperated sigh through her nose, but she didn't go further than that. With all the other couples swirling about them, she obviously felt very uncomfortable and out of place, so it was difficult for her to follow his advise.

Her usual spot was supposed to be in a quiet, cozy corner, not in the middle of a fancy dance floor.

"Since when you knew how to waltz?" She muttered, a note of exasperation in her voice. Although it wasn't at all directed at him.

A little delighted by her attempt to follow along, Ray shook his head and giggled once more. She was so cute.

"It’s not that difficult, I'm sure you'll be way better than me once you get the hang of it." Naturally, he was taking it easy on her because he knew she had no prior experience with this. He held her body a bit closer to his to guide her better and to make sure she didn't trip over his feet. Even though he wouldn't have a problem with her accidentally stepping on his foot. Since he was taller than her, she was now dancing with her chin level with his shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel his heart flutter at that small observation. He brushed a thumb over the palm of her hand. "Just try to relax. You’re so stiff."

"-Because I don't do this," she huffed out, her movements slightly stilted and jerky. The shiny marble floor tiles seemed to be the most intriguing thing to her at the moment. She was able to partially ignore everyone else in the room by staring at them, at least. "...I look stupid."

Ray let out a sigh that was both loving and worried. She seemed like she was really not having a good time.

"No you don’t, you look wonderful." When he looked at her, he saw just how anxious she really was. And he knew it wouldn't help to just say 'calm down' without taking any proper action to help her settle. He was all too familiar with that. So, he made the decision to be more bold than usual. After bringing both of her hands up to rest on his shoulders, he moved his own hands to her waist and drew her closer. Despite his efforts to keep her close primarily for her comfort, he was finding this new intimacy to be somewhat alluring. The way her figure was now pressed flush against his like this was… not unwelcome, to say the least. In an attempt to get her attention, he leaned slightly closer and spoke to her in a soft murmur that only she could hear: "Relax. Just look at me. Not at your feet, or at anybody else. No, at me. Okay?"

Her breath caught a little as she blinked at his closer proximity, and he was instantly acutely aware of her flowery perfume flooding his nose. She did always prefer subtle perfumes, ones that were borderline unnoticeable unless you get close. He liked that. Her scent never being overwhelming, only sweet and tempting. Just like she was. He stared, almost hesitantly, as she lifted her eyes to finally meet his.

"What is this?"

Ray's eyes sparkled with affection. Her body's closeness against his and the feel of her waist in his hands was something he was definitely enjoying more than he was showing. Rather shyly, he smiled down at her: "A dance…?"

He heard a tiny snort escape her as the edges of her mouth lifted into a smile. Success.

"No, I mean- I get that this is a dance, but..." Her hands lightly brushed his shoulders and he shivered at the subtle sensation, finding himself wishing he wasn't wearing quite as many layers, if only to feel the warmth of her touch more closely. She was not watching the believers now. "You're... pretty close."

He started guiding her again, easing her into the next song's pace.

"What I’m trying to do is get you out of your own head. Even if only for a moment," he gave a small shake of his head and continued to move her in time with the music. All the while, he kept his eyes trained solely on her, noticing all the little things like the way her cheeks flushed slightly under his unyielding attention, the way her chest rose and fell with every breath she took, the way her lashes fluttered gently behind her glasses. He could tell he was having an effect on her, and, of course, she was also having an even greater effect on him. She always did. "You’re thinking too much. You’re overanalyzing."

There was a sense of lighthearted flirtation in his smooth, mellow voice.

She gave a tiny pout and a sigh at that. Though it wasn't necessarily directed at him. He was right, after all. That was the point.

"Yeah, you just described me all the time," she deadpanned, glancing around anxiously for a moment. "I don't do this whole... going with the flow thing. And I wasn't planning on dancing tonight. I would've practiced beforehand if I did."

That made Ray chuckle a little. The idea of her practicing for this was just too adorable. Even if every word she spoke was a reflection of himself. He knew she was a very reserved person, often seen with her nose in a book or a computer screen. And she was definitely not a 'let loose' kind of person. It's why he felt drawn to her in the first place. She understood him. And he understood her. There was no need to be someone he was not when she was near. Because he knew she'll understand him without asking.

All he wanted was to express that feeling to her.

"You don't need to practise, you just need to stop being so stiff."

She gave him a look. "That's easier said than done, though."

Given that she was an intellectual person, he hesitated for a few seconds before attempting a different strategy. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"You know, the brain consumes about 20% of your body’s energy at any given time." Still speaking, he lowered his face closer to her as he led her around the dance floor: "Not to mention, studies say people who are more relaxed are able to retain their memories and facts significantly better than when they’re all stiff and anxious. Just… let go a little. Be a little reckless. Just for tonight."

She raised her brows, looking a little taken aback by his answer. Before he could say anything else, she bursted out laughing, shaking her head.

Ray smiled, his eyes bright. Her laugh was beautiful, and he wanted nothing more than to to hear it again, and again.

"Are you trying to trick me into dancing with you or something?"

Granted, it worked. Even if it was for a different reason.

"Maybe… But I really just want to see that pretty smile again." He placed his hand back on her hip and ran his thumb across her waist, making it feel delicate and personal. He knew that seeing her be so relaxed and happy was having a great effect on him. It felt like floating on clouds. Although she was usually serious and he found it charming all the same, her laughter was absolutely intoxicating. More than anybody else, he wanted to be the one to make her let out that sound for him, over and over again. As they danced, the song slowed down to a more romantic melody. He had the ideal justification to hold her close to him for a little while longer thanks to this slow dance. He leaned against her, keeping his arm around her waist, and whispered in her ear: "You’re having fun now, aren’t you?"

His eyes were full of pure appreciation, his voice both amused and comforting. He loved seeing her this way - relaxed, smiling, carefree. He couldn't help but flirt with her just a little bit more.

She made an effort to deny it, but all she managed to do was shake her head and sulk. Despite the fact that there was still a small smile blooming on her lips.

"Alright, alright, maybe I am," she admitted, glancing down at her heels. "...In a way."

Ray gave her waist a little squeeze of appreciation, humming in delight. Still, he acknowledged that she was not yet fully relaxed. He could still see her nervousness and incessant glances at the other believers around them. So he decided to be even more bold with her, given how luck has been on his side so far. His nose softly brushed hers as he drew closer.

"Just focus on me. Don’t look at anyone but me." He was aware of her tendency to avoid attachment, to keep things as impersonal as possible, but for these brief seconds of enchanted joy, he wanted her to concentrate on him and him alone. So he pulled both of them to the side of the dance floor, finding a quiet corner, and whispering to her: "There."

As they both vanished into the shadows, away from the other dancers, he leaned over and gave her a gentle peck on the cheek. He understood that it was likely something she's never had before, either. It pleased him to be the one who introduced her to these new experiences.

She stared up at him quietly, her mouth falling open in surprise. Obviously, she didn't anticipate that one. She was so taken aback by it, in fact, that she just gawked back at him, utterly confused, her thoughts going blank for a minute. He supposed that was one way of clearing her head.

"What was that for?"

Finally catching her off guard, he smiled broadly, his eyes practically glistening with delight. He held her closer to him, the two of them now tucked away in a quiet corner of the party space, a little hideaway meant only for them and no one else.

"That?" He gently pressed another little kiss on her forehead. "For being the most beautiful person at this party…"

Next, he planted a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Smartest…"

And lastly, the corner of her mouth, with the smallest of pressure, feeling how soft her lips were. His breath tickled her as he whispered against her mouth: "And because I simply can’t resist you."

His heart was pounding so loudly now that he could feel it fluttering with every kiss, reverberating in his temples. Much to his relief, she didn't seem opposed to his sudden outpouring of affection for her. He wanted to kiss her even more because of her flushed cheeks. She certainly forgot all about the anxiety of being around many attractive people. He undoubtedly succeeded if his intention was to divert her attention from other people and direct it toward him instead.

That was just how he felt, even though he knew it was bold of him - bolder than anything he had ever done. He's been drawn to her ever since he met her, but he was always far too anxious and reserved to ever make a move on her properly before. But right now, he felt like he wouldn't be able to contain himself if he kept seeing her smile directed at him. It was totally irresistible.

"...You know, you are making it hard not to kiss you senseless right now," she muttered, almost like a grumble as she looked down, tapping her foot in an anxious rhythm. But now the tense energy around her was of a new kind. She may have done exactly that if they hadn't been in the ballroom. However, as it is, that was a little too bold to be put into practice.

Ray held her tight as he laughed softly at that. The feel of her body in his arms was so good and warm. Even through the layers of clothing between them, he could swear he felt the warmth of her skin and the quickening pitter-patter of her heartbeat. He gently grasped her hand, while keeping the other one resting on her waist, lifting it towards his face. He turned his head and kissed her palm tenderly, his eyes only focused on her alone.

"Kiss me senseless, hmm?" He murmured. The idea of that was something he definitely liked. No, craved. "I can take you somewhere more private…"

He was aware that what he was proposing was dangerous, but at the moment, he didn't care all that much. He was only interested in spending the rest of the night with her as long as he could. He wanted her more than anything else.

"Then you can do whatever you want to me."

Never before has he been so daring as to follow his wants and desires rather than what was expected of him.

She was so surprised by his idea that her eyes went wide as saucers once more. His offer did sound scandalous. In any case, his breath caught when he saw that initial look of surroundings fade into something more sharp and charged. She opened her mouth a few times, only to close it again, at a loss for words. At last, she gave up and simply shook her head, laughing incredulously. She was cute when she got all speechless like this.

"I... It is tempting," she admitted, not wanting to make him feel unwanted. "-But I don't want to get you in trouble. Would be bad if someone noticed us being absent."

After a brief moment of hesitation and shifting on her feet, she leaned up and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. It was a wordless promise of 'another time' instead of 'no'.

Ray nearly passed out right on the spot. He felt her kiss like a physical tingle that reverberated throughout his body, like a bolt of electricity. Only this one did not brought any pain with it. The opposite. God, he wanted to keep this moment in his memory forever.

"-You wanted to dance, right? Let's do that. I think I'm fine with giving it another go."

She tugged at his hand a little, smiling shyly at him.

He was nearly dizzy from her kiss, but he remained calm. Or, tried to. And failed miserably. He nodded his head, smiling broadly.

"Yes. Let’s." He held her tight as he guided her back to the dance floor. And he continued to hold her tight as they resumed their dancing. He found himself simply enjoying the moment, feeling her heart beat quickly against his own, as they stayed back in the shadows so the other dancers couldn't see them much. He sighed, the sound coming out almost longingly: "You know, I think I’ve actually been craving your company all night."

He desired to hold her in his arms. On his lap as he worked. Everywhere. But he was still trying to keep the fragile mask of propriety on, so that they wouldn't draw more attention than he was comfortable with.

"Well, you have me. All night," she said simply, that smile of hers he adored so much ever-present. "And all the nights after tonight."

When she was blessing him with such lovely promises, it was difficult to resist embracing her right then and there like a lovestruck fool. He settled for nuzzling her temple for now.

"Then you'll make me the happiest person our paradise has ever seen."

And he did not any elixir or his Savior's teachings for that. This was true paradise. One that he could not afford to let go of.

Tagging @she-is-home per your request! <3

[ellekhen]

What Grows Around, Comes Around

Chapter 2 - What is Undone

Summary: When the Aedyran envoy accidentally inhales the spores of an explosive mushroom, she unexpectedly develops a condition that sends her into an insatiable heat. Her companion — Kai — does his best to help, even if that assistance turns out to be more hands on than either of them expected.

(This fic was formerly titled Somata.)

---------

Pairing: Kai x Fem!Envoy Rating: Explicit Length: 9.8K+ words; Chapters 2/4

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63150184/chapters/161883538#workskin

Excerpt below:

“I should tell you,” Stell babbles, stopping his hand before it can touch her. “Just so you’re aware. My… features… go further than my head.”

Kai nods, “I mean, I’ve seen your freckles if that’s what you—?”

“Not my freckles,” Stell purses her lips. “I wish it were that simple. But there’s… more fungus — I mean, godlike features further down my body. Nothing like this,” she gestures at her horns, “but bumps, ridges… gills. Things I don’t want you to touch and panic about.”

Back in Aedyr, the times Stell had been intimate with anyone were mostly furtive trysts where she was still clothed or conveniently in the dark. Those that were not involved the rare partner who could stomach the sight, or more often than not, a person with a previously undisclosed fetish. 

“Envoy,” Kai chides her, low and soft. “You could have anything down there and it wouldn’t make a difference to me.” He shrugs, “Because it’s a part of you.”

Stell gawks at him. 

He has no right to say something so lovely so easily; not now when they’re together out of necessity rather than choice.

Kai clears his throat, “You know, while we’re on the subject — do those growths have… sensation? Like if they break, or even if someone just…”

He taps demonstratively upon his own bald scalp. 

“There are nerves and blood vessels in them, so yes,” Stell answers uneasily. “Found out the hard way. But you don’t have to worry — they’re tougher than they look.”

“I figured,” Kai hums. “Otherwise they’d be all gone given how often you bump your head.”

He seems pleased when Stell chuckles at that. 

“Nevertheless, I’ll be careful with all parts of you,” Kai continues. “Now, if you don’t mind… it’s a bit warm in here.”

He tugs meaningfully at his vest.

“Ah, please. I mean, of course,” Stell mumbles, shuffling backwards a few inches.

Kai efficiently removes his arm wrappings, boots, and belts; shucking his vest afterwards so that it’s only his deep-cut shirt and trousers beneath. Stell’s core tightens at the show.

“I’m flattered,” Kai says dryly.

Stella realizes too late that she has been staring at his chest a bit too intently. 

“Forgive me,” she mutters, as if this wasn’t expected as part of his help. She wipes at her face. “It has been a while since…”

“Since…?” Kai prompts her after a moment, tossing his garments aside. 

“I’m… look, I swear that I’m not a virgin. At all,” Stell laughs nervously. “It’s just… I don’t do this. Not with the light on, and not with people I’ll see again. And not for… years, now.”

“Oh?” Kai says, but not unkindly. “I’ll admit, I’m surprised. You seem confident enough. You didn’t even bat an eye the whole time we were in the Mermaid.”

“Courtship doesn’t come easy to someone with mushrooms growing out of them,” Stell scoffs, plucking at her shirt to fan herself. “It is hot in here, isn’t it?”

Kai looks delicious in just his shirt and trousers, and with that whale-shaped pendant resting against his falling and rising sternum…

“I get it, you’re nervous,” Kai murmurs. “But want to know a secret?”

“What?”

He grins at her, flashing sharp teeth, “So am I.”

Stell wants to devour him. 

“Thanks,” she laughs. “I suppose at the end of the day it’s just sex, isn’t it?”

There. Finally, she said it plainly. Tonight is simply sex. Coitus. Copulation. Every living thing does it to reproduce, whether it’s a kith like her or a gods-damned mushroom with its gods-damned spores. It’s perfectly natural, and the fact that she will also derive pleasure from it is purely incidental.

“...yeah,” Kai hesitates, his hand drifting up to cradle her head. “Just sex.”

“Right,” Stell sighs.

And then he kisses her.

[palomahasenteredthechat]

I’ve Seen Celebrity P.R. Tactics at Work. Blake Lively Is Not Alone.

By Elizabeth Spiers

Ms. Spiers, a contributing Opinion writer, is a journalist and a digital media strategist.

The actress Blake Lively is not someone I had a real opinion about before a few days ago, when the news broke that she had filed a legal complaint against Justin Baldoni, her “It Ends With Us” director and co-star, for sexual harassment and retaliation. But I saw a video a while back in which she appeared to be hostile to a reporter making a seemingly innocuous reference to her pregnancy. My impression was that she seemed a little rude and needlessly antagonistic. I saw the video thanks to a Daily Mail article suggesting that she was facing a backlash — one that, unbeknown to me, was allegedly the product of a smear campaign by a public relations firm hired by Mr. Baldoni to damage Ms. Lively’s reputation in order to pre-empt her accusations about his wildly inappropriate behavior on set.

Much of what we know about celebrities’ lives is shaped by P.R. professionals who are paid handsomely to create and spread stories that are flattering to their clients and unflattering to their perceived enemies. Reputation management is big business: The time and resources spent in Hollywood and New York to buff, polish and protect a star’s image can be greater than what’s spent to protect the reputations of some chief executives or senators. It’s a ruthless business, too. Dishonesty is often tolerated, on the dubious basis that entertainment is a frivolity and the stakes are low, and things like talent and truth can be tarnished with the art of the smear.

I saw the brute force of celebrity P.R. tactics up close early in my career after I co-founded the website Gawker in 2002 — which mostly covered well-known New Yorkers in the spirit of Spy magazine, which had christened Donald Trump a “short-fingered vulgarian” — and freelanced for The New York Post’s Page Six gossip column. In the first months of Gawker, in spite of having just around 10,000 readers a day, we got a cease-and-desist letter from Marty Singer, a well-known entertainment lawyer who insisted that we take down an unflattering story about one of his clients. The threat never went anywhere because we had not published the story but had merely linked to it. These were the early days of the internet, and many people didn’t understand how hyperlinks worked. It’s unclear to me even now whether his firm understood this perfectly well but sent the cease-and-desist letter to try to intimidate us anyway.

At Page Six, the P.R. apparatus of blocking and tackling was even more apparent because the gossip industry is so intertwined with celebrities. P.R. people wouldn’t just defend their clients; they would try to plant flattering stories, derail unflattering ones or pit celebrities against each other to redirect attention.

Most of the plants were fairly innocuous — a sighting of a celebrity at an upscale restaurant or a note about what a celebrity was wearing. Others were more strategic, and publicists would sometimes try to negotiate more flattering coverage of one client by offering a scoop about another or a tip about a client’s rival.

Sometimes publicists would use access to celebrities as leverage. On one occasion a powerful New York publicist was so angry that the head of the column wouldn’t kill a story about a friend and former love interest that she threatened to ban its staff members from all of her high-profile events. In retaliation, the columnist she threatened published a salacious blind item about her and called her parties “horrific.”

No one is more sensitive about celebrity image making and reputation management than the celebrities themselves. I was once on a panel with the actor Alec Baldwin at the Hamptons International Film Festival for a documentary that was partly about Gawker, and he more or less lit into me onstage because he was resentful about an item that the site published years after I left, reporting that he had called his then-11-year-old daughter, Ireland, a pig in an angry voice mail.

He suggested that entertainment journalists were leeches determined to invade his privacy and that he tried to stay out of the spotlight. I laughed because, in my view, this was obviously not true. Mr. Baldwin and other stars appeared regularly in Page Six — often because celebrity publicists called to plant flattering stories about them. (His wife, Hilaria Baldwin, a former lifestyle correspondent for “Extra,” a show about Hollywood celebrities, acknowledged to me at a dinner after a panel that this happened but suggested that their P.R. people did it without their knowledge.)

Now that so much reputation management happens on social media platforms and elsewhere on the internet, the sources of information — and ultimately, the truth and the manufactured lies about a celebrity — are harder to sort through.

This was something Mr. Baldoni’s P.R. firm is accused of exploiting on his behalf via coordinated posts on various platforms. They allegedly used a technique called astroturfing, in which they used social media accounts to create the impression that Ms. Lively was difficult to work with and betraying feminism in some way while playing up Mr. Baldoni’s credentials as a self-proclaimed feminist who cared about preventing domestic violence. And his P.R. firm was largely successful until Ms. Lively’s legal complaint laid out the alleged smear campaign. Her business suffered, and so did her reputation. (Mr. Baldoni’s attorney said in a statement to The Times that the accusations of a smear campaign were “categorically false.”)

Why are these techniques sometimes so damaging? Celebrities, actors in particular, traffic in narrative. People want to know about them because they see them play out human dramas onscreen and feel they can relate to them. Viewers develop what social psychologists call parasocial relationships with them — one-way relationships in which people identify with and feel they understand another person, who, to put it bluntly, doesn’t know they exist. They think they know something about who a celebrity is because they relate to characters the celebrity has played, and they’re genuinely curious about the lives of actors beyond their onscreen roles. Celebrities deal with this by hiring P.R. people to manage their reputations or simply keeping a low profile.

For stars like Ms. Lively and her husband, the actor Ryan Reynolds, keeping tabs on their public image is a necessity because the way people perceive them directly affects the success of their work. They are not just people who have a job in entertainment; they are brands. The machinery to protect or upend those brands is often as or more extensive than it is for large, high-profile companies, in part because people relate to stars very personally in a way that they don’t relate to institutions or products.

My 9-year-old son plays a video game called Fortnite and was delighted to discover Mr. Reynolds popping out of an A.T.M. in the game because he thinks Mr. Reynolds is hilarious and likable. (I agree, but I don’t know him personally, and this could be the work of very good P.R. people and a generally positive parasocial relationship.) These parasocial relationships are crucial to the business of Hollywood, where a popular actor can make or break a big-budget movie.

In this sense, Ms. Lively had another thing working against her: the particular line women have to walk in the public eye. They must be likable in a way that men don’t have to be. It probably says something positive about her that the worst thing Mr. Baldoni’s P.R. firm could produce in terms of smearing her were clips and social media posts that suggested she was unlikable and nitpicked about her posture and tone, which is easy to do with any high-profile woman, especially one who’s been interviewed hundreds of times. Everyone has an off day or a clip that can be unflattering out of context. If you have an impression of Ms. Lively and it’s generally negative, it may be because, like me, you saw one of those clips and the sprawling campaign that put those clips in front of you was invisible to you.

The allegations Ms. Lively makes in her complaint are chilling. Among other things, she says that Mr. Baldoni kept insisting that she perform sex scenes that were not part of the script, touched and kissed her without consent, suggested she was too fat and old to play the part and absurdly called for her to be nude for a scene in which she delivers a baby, because, she says he insisted, that’s what women do when they give birth. (Ms. Lively is a mother of four, by the way. She is not exactly unaware of what that process looks like.)

She dealt behind the scenes with all that she says happened, and the irony is that you and I would know nothing about it if Mr. Baldoni hadn’t allegedly tried to harm her reputation and was successful in doing so — at which point she felt she had little choice but to sue him and make it public.

The complaint itself is a kind of reputation management, one that’s far more effective than an astroturfing campaign because it’s transparent. You know who’s making the allegations and why. You know that a court will evaluate facts and evidence — not just viral gossip and planted stories about a given celebrity, often shaped by people you never see. You know the verdict can’t be reversed simply by the subterranean digital warfare of P.R. executives. And you know the reputations of all parties, in the end, will rise or fall not on celebrity image making but on something far closer to the truth.

[good-beanswrites]

And here’s another fantasy au 02-03 thing! (Vampire Yuno, knight Fuuta, closer friends than they would be during Yuno’s first interrogation but shhh). It’s not quite fluff but hopefully a break from the stronger angst 😂 I still don’t really have many solid details on the plotline, but I was able to get some of my loose thoughts on how the milgram trials would translate here…

The curtain swished aside with flare. Yuno stepped out in a gown of shimmering pink and iridescent stones. The shape was perfectly flattering to her, and the colors complimented the unnatural paleness of her skin. Her painted lips angled into a smile.

“How does this one look?”

Fuuta hardly lifted his head where he’d slumped over one of the fancy chairs. “Exactly like the last twenty.”

She shot him a prized pouty face – it never failed with her clients. Not that he was one of her usual clients. In fact, she would be paying him for tonight.

“I shouldn’t have to do all this handmaid crap. I’m just here to escort you to the ball.”

“Ah, but this is just as important to my safety! My audience with The Warden is tonight, so I really must impress them.” She gestured to her palace’s walls, devoid of mirrors due to their uselessness to her.

“You’re perfectly capable of dressing yourself when you come to town...”

“That is wholly different.”

“Tch. You know it’s not your job to kiss up to them, or whatever it is you’re trying to do.”

She sighed. “And this is why they’re not going to approve of you.”

“Why should I care?” His armor plating clinked as he straightened up. “They just sit in that stupid tower of theirs, pretending to make their judgements, when it’s heroes like me who are out here delivering real justice.”

“What about these earrings? Perhaps they’re too gaudy for this dress…”

---

“Kashiki Yuno, the Second of the Arraigned.”

A squire announced her entrance as the pair stepped into the ballroom. Fuuta didn’t mind that he wasn’t introduced. He knew he’d get plenty of his own attention when it was his turn for an audience with the Warden, and he was already dreading it.

Even if all gazes hadn’t just swung to them, the room was an intimidating one. The two made their way down a lengthy staircase covered in thick, red velvet. A domed ceiling stretched high above them, with metal spires twisting into intricate designs as if to frame the starry sky beyond. 

On the opposite end of the room, the Warden themself sat atop their throne –  a massive square structure crafted from similarly arranged metal bars. Yuno was once again struck with how young they looked, perched on the large throne. She couldn’t wait to finally know if they were as similar as she’d been hoping. She kept envisioning their meeting between two mature people, trapped in the kind of body that the world didn’t take seriously.

It was customary for a young lady to hold her knight’s arm as she descended, but Yuno walked a few paces ahead in her excitement. The two approached the main floor, alive with talk and music as guests bustled about. Fuuta didn’t think there were even this many residents in the kingdom, but he didn’t have time to contemplate as the pair joined the crowd.

Yuno fell into their rhythm immediately. She got lost in the sea of people, chattering and charming anyone she passed by. She received several offers to dance, and took up a few of them. This left Fuuta glowering by the banquet tables by himself. He’d never enjoyed crowded events like this, and most of the guests took the hint upon a quick glance his way.

Both had adequately lost track of time when the bell tower rang out. The sound reverberated through the ballroom, leaving a hush in its wake. 

Then, whispering.

Every single guest seemed to know where Yuno stood. They snuck glances at her, their muttered words closing in from all sides. 

Fuuta shoved through the crowd, ready to draw his sword at the unsettling shift. Though, Yuno didn’t look as disturbed. He followed her gaze to where the Warden was standing up. They walked around the throne and disappeared through a door they hadn’t noticed before. Their Jackalope hopped behind. It turned, as if to beckon to Yuno, before leaving through the door. 

The kingdom was filled with a variety of dangerous creatures – Yuno would know; she was one of them – but this one radiated a different sort of power. 

Surely the Warden that managed to bond with it was just as monstrous, Fuuta reasoned. He followed Yuno to the door, people parting easily for them.

Upon reaching the doorway, Yuno turned with a genuine smile. “It’s alright, Fuuta. Your duties have been fulfilled. You can wait here.” 

It hadn’t been much of a duty to begin with. The journey to Milgram’s fortress had been uneventful, and Yuno knew the trip back would be just as peaceful. She claimed that the uncertainty with The Trials had driven her to hire a bodyguard, but by now Fuuta could have picked up on her true intentions. And those had certainly been fulfilled. She reached out with her gloved hand to squeeze his.

He didn’t release her when she tried to step forward.

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone with them. You shouldn’t go easy on them just because they’re some cute kid – royals never have a good reason to see a young lady in private.”

“I know. I visit royals in private for a living.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, and look how that turned out.”

“Aw, bite me.”

“I thought that was your thing.”

She bared her fangs at him, but couldn’t pretend to be mad. “I’ll be fine.” Though it had taken all night, she really did believe it, now. “I’ve never done anything like this before – it could be fun!”

“It’s dangerous.”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t also be fun~”

Before Fuuta could get another word in, she hiked up her skirts and walked through the door.

[hummingbird24220]

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One: Franky’s Love Machine and a Whole Lotta Secondhand Embarrassment

You were having a peaceful morning.

Keyword: were.

You had just finished stretching out on the deck, sun warming your face, the ocean calm and friendly, when Franky’s booming voice echoed from below like a declaration of war.

“ALRIGHT, CREW—PRESENTING… THE SYMBOL OF BONDING, ROMANCE, AND SHIPWIDE TENSION!!”

“Oh no,” you said immediately.

Oh yes, said Franky’s entrance.

He shot up from the hatch like a spring-loaded kangaroo, landing in a dramatic superhero pose beside the mast. Behind him, being wheeled on a literal platform, was… something.

It looked like a sculpture. Of you.

Made out of scrap metal, gears, and driftwood.

Your face was charmingly (?) lopsided. Your hair had actual spaghetti noodles stuck in it for “texture.” Your expression was somewhere between surprised and slightly constipated.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Behind your twisted little metal effigy stood two towering, Frankenstein-like figures of Zoro and Sanji—also out of scrap—locked in a pose that could only be described as:

“Aggressively Gay Heart Protector Stance.”

There was a glowing heart. It blinked.

In time with their sculpted chest plates.

Zoro’s sword moved. Sanji’s leg actually kicked. The heart pulsed every time the motion activated.

You screamed internally.

“FRANKY,” you managed, “WHAT IN THE METALLIC NIGHTMARE IS THIS?!”

He grinned ear to ear. “A GESTURE OF LOVE!! To commemorate your—how did Luffy put it—‘hot crew sandwich?!’”

Sanji looked like he might die of pride and horror at the same time. “I mean… it’s not my best side,” he muttered, “but the leg extension is impressive.”

Zoro, staring stone-faced at his metal doppelganger, muttered, “I’m going to destroy that thing.”

Franky gasped. “What?! It has moving parts, Zoro! Engineering!”

Robin wandered over, hand on her chin. “Does the heart mechanism glow brighter based on emotional proximity?”

“YES,” Franky declared.

You turned to Sanji. “You’re flattered?”

He gave you a sheepish smile. “It’s got flair.”

You turned to Zoro. “You’re going to break it?”

“I’ve already picked the weak point.”

You groaned. “I cannot believe I am the center of a glow-in-the-dark throuple totem.”

Luffy clapped his hands. “Put it in the dining room!!”

“Absolutely not!” you, Zoro, and Sanji all yelled at once.

Robin leaned over. “I think you should name it.”

Nami walked past, squinting. “Name it ‘Please Never Let This Happen Again.’”

Later that night, the “Love Sculpture” was still sitting ominously in the corner of the deck, occasionally letting out soft clicks and mechanical heart thumps.

You curled up in a blanket between your two idiots, watching it warily.

“If it starts talking,” you said, “I’m jumping overboard.”

Sanji kissed your temple. Zoro muttered, “I’ll push it first.”

The sculpture blinked. You blinked back.

It blinked again.

You pulled the blanket over your head and accepted your fate.

—-----

It started at dinner.

You had just taken your seat between Zoro and Sanji, both perfectly casual, perfectly close, perfectly boyfriend-shaped, when Usopp grinned across the table and said the fateful words:

“Hey (Y/N), you should try flirting with the next person we meet, but act like Zoro and Sanji are your scary boyfriends.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Flirting like...?”

“Like... flirty,” Luffy added helpfully. “But with backup.”

Sanji looked up from his wine glass. “We’re doing what now?”

Nami, already sipping her drink like she was watching a drama unfold, smiled. “Think of it as an experiment.”

Zoro grunted. “Sounds stupid.”

You leaned back with a smirk, fingers laced behind your head. “Fine. I’ll do it. Just remember, this is on you if it gets weird.”

“It’s already weird,” Robin said, smiling calmly.

The next day, the Sunny docked at a peaceful port town filled with cheerful locals and market stalls. The crew scattered. You didn’t mean to start the bit so soon—but when a charming merchant approached you with an overly friendly smile and a glittering necklace in hand, you saw your moment.

You leaned against the stall, eyes half-lidded, and said with a grin, “Well aren’t you bold.”

The merchant blinked, caught off guard. “I—uh, I just thought the necklace would suit you—”

“Oh, that’s cute.” You pointed a thumb behind you. “Just make sure you clear it with my boys first.”

Zoro and Sanji stood at your six and nine o’clock like hired muscle.

Zoro: arms folded, sword at his hip, eyes narrowed like the merchant had just insulted his entire bloodline. Sanji: leaned in just slightly, smiling, but with the energy of someone who would cheerfully cook the man alive if you said the word.

The merchant paled. “I—of course! I—I mean no offense, madam—uh—ma’am—uh—uhm—”

You took the necklace gently, holding it up to the light. “We share everything, you know. So if you’re flirting with me, you’re flirting with both of them.”

Zoro’s brow twitched. Sanji let out a slow exhale.

The man practically fled the stall.

You turned back to your crew with the smuggest smile.

“Well?”

Zoro stared. “You’re evil.”

Sanji blinked. “...I think I liked that more than I should’ve.”

You winked. “Glad you boys approve.”

—--

Back on the Sunny, the crew was waiting.

“So?” Nami asked.

You struck a pose. “He ran like I told him I collect teeth.”

Luffy fell over laughing. Robin nodded, satisfied. Usopp dropped a coin in Chopper’s palm. (“Told you she’d actually do it,” he muttered.)

Zoro muttered something about needing a drink. Sanji said nothing, but his ears were red.

You flopped onto the deck and declared, “Ten outta ten. Would threaten civilians with my boyfriends again.”

“Please don’t,” Chopper whimpered.

[chrisbitchtree]

There Are No Words Left To Speak

“Mobius loves to lavish words of loving praise on Loki, but sometimes the god has a hard time hearing it, so Mobius has to show him.”

2.7k - E

My first foray into writing Lokius fic!

***

Before meeting Loki for the first time, Mobius wouldn’t have considered himself a leg man. He wouldn’t have considered himself an anything man, really. Of course, he wasn’t immune to beautiful people, could appreciate shapely breasts, nice, wide shoulders, or a perky ass, but he knew he was a leg man the second his eyes tracked their way up Loki’s body, dragging up, up, up his mile long legs, the first time the god was presented to him. Even with Loki donning his dull, tan jumpsuit, Mobius knew there was something worth worshiping underneath. He’d seen every milky, delicious inch of him on video but seeing him stand before Mobius somehow made it all different.

He could barely form words, so overcome as he was with thoughts of getting his hands on them. The god had quirked a brow at Mobius’ wide eyes, and the files he had to hold in front of himself to disguise his interest, but he thankfully hadn’t said a word. He knew he should be especially grateful for that small favour as he and Loki got to know each other better and Mobius was reminded time and time again how often Loki wouldn’t shut his big mouth.

For months, Mobius had to try to disguise what Loki was doing to him. It wasn’t just Loki’s legs, it was his elegant hands, long, thin fingers that looked like they were made for playing piano, not fighting in battle, it was his shining ebony curls that Mobius would give anything to run his hands through. It was his handsome face, it was the clear, shining laughter that only rang out for Mobius, and it was the private smiles only for Mobius’s eyes. But it was his legs above all else that kept Mobius awake at night.

When Loki would sit, long legs crossed as he sat across from Mobius in the TVA’s cafeteria, pants riding up a couple inches to reveal his delicate ankle bones encased in dress socks, Mobius would pass off his quiet moans as an intense interest in the pie he was eating, which face, it wasn’t too hard, considering how good the key lime pie was.

When Loki would plop down on one of the low chairs at Mobius’ cubicle, his knees rising almost all the way to his chest, Mobius would pretend that his deep groans and flushed cheeks were just frustration at a lack of leads in their latest case, not because all he wanted to do was rip Loki’s stupid brown dress pants off and have his way with him right there on his desk, mountains of paperwork and nearby coworkers be damned.

It was unfair, really, what those pants did for Loki. On himself, Mobius didn’t think the pants were too flattering. They were loose in all the wrong places, and tight in even worse ones, accentuating the pooch of his belly and his thick thighs, but on Loki, the same pants hugged all his curves, perfectly, and caused Mobius to walk behind him, to sneak in more glances of his ass. Who cared if Loki kept teasing him for being so slow when he got that kind of view?

Even as Mobius tried to run away from his feelings for Loki, they became close, Loki’s icy, distrusting surface melting to reveal the warmth underneath. Before long, he and Mobius were telling each other everything, as thick as thieves, and Mobius couldn’t remember a time he’d ever felt this close to anyone.

Then, one late night, through some kind of miracle, after a particularly grueling day on the job, there had only been one piece of pie left in the cafeteria. Loki said that Mobius could have it, at the exact same time as Mobius said they could share, so Loki pulled a chair up next to Mobius’, and they’d sat side by side, legs pressed against each other, as they handed the fork back and forth.

When they were finished, only crumbs remaining, Loki had turned to Mobius, laughing softly as he pointed out a bit of whipped cream on his moustache. Mobius had tried to get it himself, but when he failed, Loki had reached over and swiped it off with his thumb. Instead of wiping the digit off on a napkin, he’d sucked the sweet cream into his mouth, keeping eye contact with Mobius the whole time.

It was like a dam broke in that moment, and suddenly, Mobius was pulling Loki to him, pressing their lips together as he gripped a handful of Loki’s shirt. Loki made an adorable squeak of surprise but didn’t pull away, and after a minute, he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into Mobius’s mouth at the same time as he slipped his hands into the back of Mobius’s short, greying hair. After what could have been ten minutes or two hours, they came back to themselves, regaining awareness of their surroundings.

They sprang to their feet, Mobius taking a minute to tuck in their chairs while Loki stood in the entryway to the room, eyeing him impatiently, tapping his dress shoed foot on the floor, the sound echoing in the silence of the empty room.

They quickly made their way up to Mobius’s apartment, where they’d had the most bone melting, earth shattering sex of Mobius’s life. He’d woken up the next morning a changed man, taking the few minutes he had before he had to wake Loki up for work to take the sight of him in, from his long, dark eyelashes fanned out on his pale cheeks, his pretty pink lips pursed in a little pout, as if even his unconscious mind knew he’d soon have to wake and face the cruel world of the TVA, to his chest, littered with marks from Mobius’s teeth, to those legs.

One had found it’s way out from under the blankets and sheets, and it seemed to go on and on. Mobius longed to have it thrown over his shoulder as he brought Loki to the height of pleasure again, but there was no time. Unless they wanted to show up looking like disheveled messes, they had to at least quickly shower before breakfast.

***

It’s now been six months of bliss, of going to sleep with Loki cradled in his arms, waking up to the other man starfished over three quarters of the bed, leaving Mobius to chuckle quietly to himself as he tried to fall off the little bit of bed that’s been left for him. Endless movie nights and dessert dates, working side by side day in and day out, celebrating wins and mourning losses together, bickering over who finished the orange juice, or whose turn it is to do the laundry. It’s more than Mobius could have ever imagined, and after all this time, he’s still in shock that this amazing life with this wonderful, sweet, sassy, snarky, caring and loving man is his.

Mobius loves to use words to show Loki how much he loves him. He likes praising Loki’s beauty and grace, his brains, his increasingly kind and empathetic nature, his sharp wit and surprisingly tender heart. Some days, Loki will take the words gladly, standing proud and tall as Mobius heaps verbal affections onto him.

Other days though, Mobius can tell that words won’t work. Loki won’t accept that he’s good and loving, that he was born for more than causing pain, destruction, and death. Mobius still regretted ever telling Loki that, but he can’t take it back, he can only try to move on from it, and reinforce his feelings in other ways.

Like today for example. Mobius could tell early that it was one of those days. Loki’s been uncharacteristically quiet, muttering something about horrid, deathly pale sticks when Mobius had run a reverent hand over Loki’s leg as he’d dressed after his shower, and he’d barely cracked a smile when Mobius had told him what a good job he’d done holding back his anger when the variant they’d detained refused to submit to their questioning.

Now, they’re back at their apartment, dinner eaten, and dishes washed, dried, and put away, and Mobius takes Loki’s hand, leading him to the bedroom. I love you, he says with every kiss bestowed upon Loki’s lips, his hand cupping the back of Loki’s head, his fingers tangled in his raven curls. You have me, and you’ll always have me, he says with each nip and suck to Loki’s neck, each mark a reminder of Mobius’s deep affections. You’re glorious, he says by way of his lips trailing down every inch of exposed flesh as Mobius loosens Loki’s tie and unbuttons his shirt and discards both on the floor. His pants follow lighting fast, pooling at his ankles as Mobius works to strip himself next.

Once they’re both clad only in their underwear, Loki in sinfully tight black briefs, and Mobius in ridiculous cherry pie patterned boxers that Loki got him for Christmas, he guides Loki to the bed, getting him settled with his back against the headboard, and then Mobius climbs between Loki’s legs, ready to show him how special he truly is. Every moment spent away from these treasures feels like starvation, and Mobius is about to feast.

He starts with just his hands, running his calloused palms over the creamy expanse before him, starting at Loki’s perfect, delicate ankles. He takes his time running his hands over ever single birthmark and mole, the little freckle that he knows is on the back of Loki’s right knee. The area around it is ticklish, and Mobius always delights in the little gasps that escape Loki’s mouth when he tongues over the spot.

Somehow, despite how lithe he is, Loki’s thighs are still soft and plush under Mobius’s fingers as he kneads them. He loves seeing his hands against Loki’s skin, golden tan against milky white. It’s a study in contrasts, and it sends a shiver through Mobius every time. He motions for Loki to lift his hips so Mobius can divest him of his underwear, so he does, and Mobius slowly peels his briefs off, going a little breathless as he always does when he’s faced with Loki’s beautiful cock.

The length of it is as pale as the rest of him, but the head is flushed a gorgeous dusky pink, and he’s already half hard, just from Mobius’s hands. It never ceases to amaze the older man; just how sensitive Loki’s body is. They’ve tested it in the past, Loki coming untouched, just from Mobius sucking deep purple marks onto his neck.

His cock may make his interest apparent, but Loki’s face still bore a frown, and there was a little crease between his eyebrows, so Mobius slides back down to the foot of the bed and forges the same path upwards a second time, this time with his teeth and tongue. He leaves Loki’s legs littered with signs of his love; little crescent moons left as reminders of how special Loki is to Mobius.

When he gets to that spot on the back of Loki’s knee, he licks over it repeatedly until the younger man can’t hide the small grin trying to take over his face. His mouth still settles back into a frown after, but at least it’s something.

Finally, after making the miles long trek from his toes, Mobius is back up at Loki’s inner thighs, his favourite place to be. The skin is especially soft here, so smooth under Mobius’s lips, just waiting to be roughed up. He starts by sucking a line of bruises up each thigh, careful to make sure that they’ll last a few days. He follows the trails with his lips, ensuring to rub his moustache roughly over them. There’s nothing that Loki loves than beard burn, the sting reminding him of who he belongs to when they have to be apart.

When he’s done, he sits back and admires his handiwork for a minute. And lord, doesn’t the younger man paint a pretty picture, his cock now fully hard and leaking against his belly as he impatiently whines and presses his fingers into the fresh bruises.

Mobius takes mercy on him, not wasting any time before he settles back between Loki’s thighs, encouraging him to sling his legs over Mobius’s shoulders as he takes the head of Loki’s cock into his mouth, suckling gently. Loki whines, already wanting more, and Mobius give it to him instantly, swallowing him down to the root, his nose buried in the hair at the base of his cock.

He moans at how full he feels, so full of this man he loves so much, and Loki gasps at the feeling, burying a hand in the back of Mobius’s hair, not pushing him down, but gently guiding him. Together, they find a rhythm, and Mobius bobs his head, met by Loki’s hips thrusting upwards. He can tell that Loki’s trying to hold back, but he doesn’t want him to, so he pops off and tells him as much. He wants everything Loki has to give him and more.

It doesn’t take long after that for Loki to come down his throat. Loki tries to warn him, tugging on his hair, but Mobius wants every drop that Loki has to give him, so he sucks him down as far as he can so that he doesn’t miss a drop.

Loki lets a hand fall over his eyes, panting, even as his hips are still bucking into the tight heat as Mobius works him through it. Eventually, once Loki’s stopped moving, Mobius pulls off and gathers Loki into his arms. His own cock is still rock hard, sitting neglected in his briefs, but he knows he’ll get his turn eventually. Right now is about showing Loki how cared for he is.

He holds the younger man in his arms, pressing soft kisses to his hair and rocking him gently. They stay like that for a while, but eventually, Loki turns in Mobius’s arms, regarding him with soft eyes.

“Thank you,” Loki says, breaking the silence, before pressing a kiss to Mobius’s check. It’s sweet, and downright chaste compared to what they’ve just gotten up to, but Mobius loves it, just as he loves everything else to do with the god.

He tries to wiggle out of Mobius’s grasp and tells the older man it’s his turn, but Mobius has a better idea.

“Can I come on your thighs, pussycat?” Mobius can feel himself getting impossibly harder at just the thought of it.

“Please do,” Loki replies with a smirk, folding his arms behind his head and settling in for the show. It feels good to see the younger man back to his usual playful self.

Mobius peels off his already soaking wet boxers and gets onto his knees, positioning himself between Loki’s lovely thighs. He grips himself tight with one hand, bucking hard into the channel of his fist, and he runs the other hand up his own chest, pinching sharply at his right nipple before moving over to the left to give it the same treatment. His pecs are one of the most sensitive parts of Mobius’s body, and if Loki were helping him out tonight, he’d be cupping them in a tight grip, and nibbling at them, leaving marks of his own.

He gasps at the dual sensations of pleasure and pain, focusing on how good he feels right now between Loki’s long legs. It isn’t long after that he’s coming, painting Loki’s thighs with his spend, and as he bucks into his fist, riding the aftershocks, Loki reaches down, smearing his cum all over, making even more of a mess of himself, and Mobius could almost come again the sight before his eyes.

He collapses into Loki’s arms and the younger man strokes his back as Mobius’s breathing levels out and he comes down from his high.

“I know I already said it, but thank you, Mobius. Truly, thank you.” Loki whispers.

Mobius smiles into the younger man’s chest. “Of course, kitten. I think you deserve a thank you too, though.”

Loki huffs out a laugh. “Whatever for?”

“For being you, Loki. Just for being you.”