#(if it's on the ao3 and was tagged properly then i either read that already or decided not to read it)

[anisecandy]

I'm in despair. I'm so starved for a good spidervenom fic that would fit my taste (no noncon, comic versions, etc) and would have a plot beyond 🍋🍋🍋 than I'm attempting to navigate Live Journal. Good god. You people lived like this???

[sniigura-archive]

Softness within.

Adam x fem!reader

Part 1

CW/TW/Tags: Porn, Car sex, Semi Public, P in V, TW: Adam, COLLEGE AU!!!!, oral fem receiving, tell me if I missed smth, I wrote this at 2 am help me, breeding kink, pregnancy mention

Summary: Adam is either very charismatic or you don’t have a spine.

Adam ended up driving you home, after you punched in your address in his navigation system it didn’t take long for you to pass out. Shaking you awake, you scrambled out of Adam’s car, but sadly you weren’t fast enough since you still had to listen to Adam rant to you about the shit hole of a neighbourhood you live in.

He didn’t drive off till you safely entered your building.

Once you got home you didn’t even have the energy to get undressed, you barley took off your shoes and you were already in your bed. Pros of having a one bedroom apartment: the way to the bed is very short.

When you woke up everything felt like a fever dream. It felt so unreal, you were sure it was a weird sex dream coming up because of your repressed consciousness or whatever. You quickly threw away this theory, once you got into the shower. Ew. Having cold cum run down your thighs was not it.

Right so that happened. For real. Totally couldn’t potentially ruin your social life. That’s cool.

Checking your phone, you found texts messages from your friends. Since you all share locations they were happy to see you home after disappearing. Some kidnap jokes were made. You didn’t bother responding.

And just like that your life continued and you tried not to think of Adam anymore. Since you aren’t in the same friend group, don’t study the same subjects, and you’re just a master of avoiding awkward situations you didn’t see him the past 2 weeks. During these 2 weeks Adam found your insta, snapchat AND your phone number. In that order. At this point you wouldn’t be surprised if he found your secret AO3 account or something and started to spam you full with comments.

Him actually actively looking for you made you feel some type of way….and once those thoughts reached you, you basically slapped yourself. You have always sucked at responding to messages, your friends just call you when they need you. You didn’t even properly read Adam’s messages, leaving him on delivered. These messages caused you so much anxiety, that you immediately swiped them away in your notifications field when you saw them pop up.

Another thing you were worried about was that your period was 2 days late, which isn’t a lot considering you took Plan B and it messes with your hormones but it still had you on edge so bad. You ended up buying a pregnancy test, which you didn’t end up needing. Thank god.

The last weekend party you skipped. Sitting at home and catching up with work was how you spend your weekend. And once you saw everyone post the party on their stories and the messages in your group chats, your FOMO kicked in so hard that you had to attend the next one. So, here you were leaning against a wall with some cheap soda in your hand, because you don’t drink since you’re boring. And like always when you’re at a party, you realised you didn’t actually miss out on much.

If you could, you would scroll away at your phone. What’s stopping you? Easy:

Adam starring at you from across the room. Tots not uncomfortable. Starring at your phone now would be like throwing a rock at an sleeping ice bear. Since you basically ignored him for 2 weeks straight. You really know how stand in your own way. Some part of your brain told you not to provoke him too much.

Ok you were just going to run away this is ridiculous. Taking a good look around on how you could escape (your friends were going to murder you for disappearing AGAIN) you jumped nearly 10 feet into the air when you felt big hands on your hips and a body pressed against your back. The only logical reaction to this was to step on the guys foot and throw your drink at his face.

“Ow! What the fuck, you crazy bitch?” Adam yelled.

How the fuck was he able to get to you that fast? Without you noticing?? He’s so big what??

“Jesus, dude! You can’t sneak up on a girl like that!” You yelled back.

Thankfully not many eyes were on you guys, and the music was loud so people yelling to communicate wasn’t unusual.

Adam whipped the soda of his face, looking pissed. Thankfully there wasn’t much left in your cup anyways, the top part of his band shirt was only slightly soaked. Act cool, act casual. Crossing your arms over your chest you looked at him expectantly.

Even though he looked mad a second ago, taking in the sight of you seemed to cheer him right back up. Maybe it’s because of your short skirt.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Wanna get out off here?” Shit. Goosebumps from excitement crawled all over your skin. He smelled like the sweet soda, but also like deep cologne. Ah, you’re so so weak.

“Always.” The words left your lips before you could truly think about it.

Adam smirked down at you, placing a hand at the small of your back he started to lead you out of the house party.

That’s how you ended up in Adam’s car, while he zipped around town, trying to find a secluded place, his hand was up your skirt massaging messy circles into your clothed pussy. You on the other hand were spreading your legs further apart, trying and failing to muffle your moans. Even though it was at most 2 minutes, it felt like it took Adam hours to park the car. You clawed at his wrist, trying to get more stimulation out of him.

He reached a hand under his seat, sliding it back from the wheel as far as possible, while also reclining the back of the seat.

“Holy shit, babe.” Adam mumbled out, he reached across to grasp your ass with both his hands hoisting you up and successfully into his lap. Once you sat down on his lap you could feel his bulge right under your pussy. You gave it an experimental roll of your hips. Adam bit his lower lip, his hand flew to your hips, helping you grind down on him.

Grasping at his shoulders, you smashed your own lips into his, trying to steal his breath. Fucking hell, you don’t think you have ever carnally desired anyone as much as him. Adam was still grinding your cunt unto his dick by your hips while he explored your mouth with his tongue freely.

Once the kiss stopped so you could breathe, Adam took the opportunity to rip your tights apart, to have better access towards your private parts.

“Man! Why did you do that? You better buy me new ones, asshole.” You told him frustrated.

“Chillax, baby, I will buy you even better ones if it means you let me hit.” Fucker.

Adam pushed your wet panties to the side, gently easing in a finger, “So tell me. Who else did you fuck after me?” His words were anything but gentle.

“Shit..No one. I..I swear, Adam.” You spoke through gasps. His thumb started to stroke your clit.

With his other hand Adam roughly grasped your jaw into his hand, starring into you with his golden eyes. They reminded you of that of a hawk. He didn’t look too convinced.

“Please, Adam, only you can make me cum.” You whimpered out.

Adam grinned at you at your words, “Ain’t that the truth. You better start answering your fucking messages then, slut.” Another finger was entered into your hole, he curled them upwards, hitting sensitive spots which made you moan shamelessly.

“Bad…at replying.” You mumbled out.

Adam rolled his eyes at you, “Yeah, right, give me a better excuse and I might let you cum.”

It’s not a bad excuse, it’s your reality. Even though your screentime was embarrassingly high, messages were your personal final boss. Using both your hands to run them down the sides of your thighs, your right hand met the pocket garter you wear when you’re wearing a skirt, or dress. Pulling out your phone with one brain cell intact is one thing, but unlocking it is a whole other. Pulling up the messages app, shoved the device into his face. He can read. You think. You hope.

Once he stopped grasping at your jaw so roughly, you massaged the tense muscles. Adam scrolled through your chats, he looked very interested. You caught the glimpse of a chat from last year. Yikes.

Laying your head against his shoulder, you started kissing at his neck. You still had fucking hickeys and bite marks from him! Asshole. Adam left your messages app and was investigating your social media now. He looked through your phone like a man on a mission. If you had at least half your mind you would have already stopped him. But the happier he was at your innocence the more intensely he did rub circles into your clit, turning you to mush.

Throwing your phone on the passenger seat- if it bounces off and breaks or gets lost you were going to kill him- Adam placed a hand at the back of your head, starting another forceful kiss. While your tongues were busy, Adam eased the third finger into you. He pumped them in and out of you, testing the resistance. Taking him unprepared would be a really stupid idea.

With a well placed tug of your hair, Adam pulled you slightly away from him, “It’s fucking hot babe, how you ignore other people. Really. But shit, I need you to answer my fucking messages. I’m not like those other fucking clowns you keep around. Got it?” You quickly nodded your head at him, whatever gets him inside of you.

Slowly pulling out his fingers out of you, one by one, he licked a strip up his fingers while looking into your eyes. He pulled down his jeans zippers, pulling out his leaking dick. He gave himself a few good pumps with his soiled hand. Is he not wearing any underwear?? Yikes.

“Now, sit down on my fucking dick.” Adam smirked at you.

A moment of clarity hit you when you remembered the unused pregnancy test you have hidden away.

“Wait! Do you have a condom?” You looked hopefully at Adam.

He looked at you like you just ruined Christmas, easter and his birthday all at once, “What the fuck do we need that for?”

“I’m not interested in pregnancy. Today is not safe.” You told him, you tried to sound stern.

“You would look hot as fuck though, with swollen tits and a swollen stomach. You sure you don’t want me to cream you while you’re ovulating? Besides, it went well last time, didn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow at you. The gold piercing was reflecting the light of the street lamp outside.

His hand were rubbing at your hips, wandering further up till he helped you take off your sweater. You didn’t bother wearing anything under it because bras suck. He smiled at the sight of your bare chest as if he just won the lottery. He really was moody.

“I’m serious! I bought a fucking pregnancy test, I was so stressed last time.” Adam didn’t even bother looking into your eyes again, his huge hand pulling and rubbing at your nipples and chest. You had to bit your lip to keep from moaning. You had to be strong, at least once. You also really needed to finish this degree without getting pregnant.

“See babe? That’s what you need my number for. So you can fucking tell me that shit.” Adam made brief eye contact with you, before he leaned forward and started sucking at your nipple. His teeth carefully bit down. Your hands tangled themselves up in Adam’s hair. Because Adam pulled you forward for easier reach, your pussy ended up rubbing across Adam’s length. The groan which left his lips made your tit vibrate deliciously.

He really knows how to play you. With his hands he grasped your ass, massaging it before he dragged you across his dick. Your clit caught at his dick piercing, causing you to call out for Adam.

And if you had half a mind, you would simply open up the car door and climb out, to really make your point clear. And Adam would drag you back in, while complaining and get a condom somewhere (hopefully). But the risk of him actually letting you leave was not something you wanted. You just really needed to have him fill you up.

Tugging at his hair, he removed his mouth from your boob. He smiled at you, “Finally ready to get dicked down, baby?” Adam asked you in that arrogant tone of his.

Your own hands wandered across Adam’s chest, till you finally tugged at the bottom of his shirt, trying to take it off. Adam slightly sat up, removing his shirt and throwing it on the passenger seat. Fully taking in his tan olive skin, you realised just how hot he truly is. There was a scar across his right ribcage, his nipple piercing just made him 100 times more attractive, his ample stomach made you want to straight up cannibalise him while his happy trail made your mouth water. What a man.

Grasping his cheeks into your hands, you tilted his head up so he could properly look at you. Your thumb grazed over his lips, “Adam, sweetie..” You cooed down at him. You felt his dick twitch under you, “Don’t you want me to ride you till you’re sucked dry? I can only do that if you get a condom. C’mon…” His eyes were starring into your own.

Adam grasped your wrists into his hand, removing your hands from his cheeks. His face didn’t show any ounce of emotion. Ah, maybe that was the wrong move. Before regret could fully set in, Adam started swearing under his breath. He leaned forward suddenly, a surprised gasp leaving your mouth, while he rummaged through the glove department. Successfully he pulled out a condom, while probably also cursing you.

He leaned his back properly against the seat, ripping open the condom package with his teeth. Adam then glided the condom on his dick, after you scooted back to give him some space. Once he made sure everything was secured, you leaned forward to kiss him again. His hands were grasping your hips, his fingers digging into the plushy flesh.

Once the kiss stopped, you grasped Adam’s dick, lining it up with your pussy.

During your two week Adam break, you really told yourself that that would be a one time thing. That next time you would say no to him. That you don’t really need him or his attention and touch and whatever else he can give you. Well, you’re also a big fat liar so there is that.

Placing your own hand on Adam’s hand, you tugged it off to intervene your finger. Biting down at your lip you slowly glided down on Adam’s dick. Your other hand was placed on his shoulder, nails digged into this skin.

Slowly sliding down on him, your mouth fell open at the stretch. Adams eyes were focused on your pussy swallowing him whole, “You take me so well.” He groaned out.

Once you were fully sat down on Adam’s cock, you panted in the stuffy air. Taking a glance to your right, you saw the windows were all fogged up. At least you have the illusion of privacy.

Adam’s hand moved from your hip to your ass, grabbing at the fat and massaging it. He slowly rocked your hips back and forth with that movement. His other hand squeezed your intervened fingers, he then pulled your hand towards his mouth. Kissing your finger tips while looking into your eyes.

Ah. Why does everything he do make your head spin? Did he do fucking witchcraft or something on you??

Grasping with your hands both his shoulders, you started rocking your hips back and forth. First at an slow and careful speed, but then you started going faster. Till you started going properly up and down on him. Adam’s hand went to your tit, fondling and pinching, while his other hand moved from the back of your neck towards the top of your head. You stopped questioning Adam’s behaviour a while ago.

“If I knew you looked so hot on top, I would have let you ride me immediately last time.” Adam told you, his eyes were jumping all across your body, it seemed like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to look, “But damn, babe, we really need to get you on birth control.”

“S’expensive.” You mumbled out.

Your forehead meet his neck. Maybe you should exercise more, the burn in your thighs was getting intense.

“..You getting tired there, baby?” A breathy chuckle left his lips.

Adam forced your movements to stop, to sit down properly with his hand moving to your hip. He smirked at you, probably knowing he was going to give you another unforgettable experience. Why couldn’t he have been average in everything he does? Noooo, he had to blow your mind away. Damn him and his solid experience.

Adam started thrusting up into you. First at a slow and deep pace. getting you used to the sensation, then he went faster and faster. His piercing scrapped against a sensitive spot in you.

“Right there!” You gasped into his neck, you then started to kiss and suck at his skin. Leaving your own mark. His one hand was still on top of your head, massaging your scalp and playing with your hair.

Thankfully Adam is decent at following orders, he kept up his pace, hitting the spot over and over. You could feel an orgasm approaching. You were probably straight up moaning against Adam’s ear, but he doesn’t seem to complain.

“I can promise you, baby, ‘m gonna get you whatever you want as long as ya going to be my lovely cum dump.” He mumbled out.

Woah orgasms and meaningless consumption??? Your two favourite things!

All you could muster was a whine. Because that was a big commitment. Maybe you’re going to ghost him again. An extra rough thrust made you see stars, and the ghosting idea left your mind and maybe you should marry him and be a housewife and give him as many children as he wants.

You threw your head back at the feeling of overwhelming pleasure and- ah, that’s why he had his hand on top of your head, when you slightly crashed your head into the car roof. It was more shock than anything else, but it still scared the orgasm out of you. Damn it.

Adam stopped his movement’s, his brows were furrowed at your scrunched up face. His hand rubbed at your head in concern, “You good?”

You nodded your head at him, looking into his eyes with your own teary ones, “..I lost my orgasm.” You mumbled out in the most pathetic voice imaginable. To your own defence, it is the worst thing to happen to you today.

Adam looked at you with a blank look for a split second, before laughing at you. You hid your own face behind your hands, embarrassment cursed through your veins. You’re stupid. Why did you say that?

With the way Adam was laughing at you, you felt his dick jump inside of you, which in turn made you clench around him. Adam grasped your wrists into his hand, yanking them down and he smiled at you like a wolf.

“Well..Who am I to say no to my favourite slut? You want to cum? I’m going to make you cum.”

Why is he so hot!!!! You were going to smash your head again into the car roof.

You already thought his pace before was intense. Now? It was brutal. The scraping of his piercing, his hands on your hips and ass, his dick stretching you apart, his stubble rubbing against your soft skin. His constant fucking talking.

“Ugh, babe, you got such a tight cunt. Squeezing me. And you say you don’t want me to cum inside? Ha. Yeah, right.” Adam started rocking your hips back and forth, your clit was rubbing against his jeans.

“‘M more surprised you haven’t got anyone pregnant with that raging breeding kink of yours.” You whimpered into his ear, then you bit into his ear lobe. That was more to be annoying than sexy, but with the way he groaned and his dick twitched inside of you it seemed like it had the opposite effect.

You really would have missed his words, if you weren’t paying attention enough,

“You the only one I wanna get pregnant. Those other whores don’t deserve to have my cum.”

Why do you feel flattered….Something is really, deeply off about you. You need to up your medication.

It felt like hot flames were pooling in your lower stomach, you felt intense, near painful tingles on your clit and thanks to Adam’s constant rhythm of your clit rubbing against the rough fabric of his jeans it wasn’t a surprise that an orgasm washed over you. Your nails dug into Adam’s biceps while you squeezed around his cock.

“Fucking hell, you wanna milk me dry, huh?” Adam groaned, and with a few hip thrust of his own he came. You kinda missed the feeling of his hot cum shooting into you, but you would take that knowledge to your grave.

You rested your face into the crook of Adam’s neck, trying to regulate your breathing. Your legs felt like jelly. Adam was also breathing heavily, his hands rubbed up and down on your back. He stayed inside of you.

Realistically you knew that he had to pull out, to keep the contraceptive working but on the other hand..You just wanted to stay like that. Having Adam not talk for once was a relaxing change. And having his big warm hands on your back, which was starting to cool down, was just pure bliss.

“..You know, we could always do the pull out method.” He mured into your ear, trying to sound seductive.

You couldn’t help but snort at his words, “Yeah, sure, look me in the eyes and tell me you could pull out of this.” You lifted up your one knee, your skirt was lifted up by it and it gave Adam a clear view of your filled up pussy.

Adam couldn’t even look you in the eyes too mesmerised apparently by the sight, it was emphasised by Adam’s dick coming back to life again, twiching and growing inside of you.

“..Shit, you’re right.” Adam grasped your waist and lifted you off off him. He removed the condom, tied it up and threw it somewhere carelessly on the backseat floor. Yikes again.

He rubbed at his chin, probably thinking of what to do next with you. With a hot flash across your body you remembered his promise from last time. Thinking of it, you could fit on the floor in between his legs. Maybe. It would be uncomfortable but you also seemingly have no self respect so what does that matter?

“Get in the back seat.” Adam told you, you nodded at his words. Ok. You can crawl over there. Adam gave a light slap to your ass and chuckled at your surprised gasp. Successfully making it back there, you made sure not to step on the discarded condom. Why is he like that?

Adam grabbed another condom, since he was too big for anything really, he couldn’t crawl back there like you. Instead, he used the doors, like a normal person. Couldn’t be you.

Your head was against the window, and when Adam opened the door car door and crawled onto the seat and flashed that smirk of his you knew you were a goner. Out of seemingly instinct your legs slightly opened. Adam closed the door behind him- yay to the illusion of privacy!- and then he grabbed your ankle and tugged your roughly towards him.

A surprised gasp left your lips, you were laid down now, with Adam towering over you. He once again secured the condom, then he bent down to kiss you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping he secured against you. His left arm was supporting his weight against the seat, caging you in, while the other hand was sensually moving from your stomach towards your pussy. He drew patterns into your pubes which made you squirm uncomfortably. Maybe you should start shaving. He then rubbed his thick fingers across your slit, probably checking if you were still wet enough for him. He grazed your clit and it made your whole body jolt.

“Every time a girl shaves her pussy an angel dies. I swear on it.” Adam mumbled out. If those words were meant for only him or if he noticed you being uncomfortable, you didn’t known. But it made you feel somewhat more comfortable.

Adam lined up his super duper magic dick against your entrance and slowly pushed it in. You wrapped your one leg around him, since the other was squished between his body and the seats.

With slow and deep thrusts Adam rocked against you, now you realised how much the car must have moved. The pleasure was building slowly but surely. Adam was quite for once. Pussy so good it shut Adam up?? You’re sure you can put that on your resume.

You wrapped your hand around Adam’s bicep, to steady yourself. You squeezed the soft flesh, looking mesmerised at his big arms. He smiled down at you and flexed his muscles, making them rock hard. You squeezed again and swore under your breath. At this display you remembered actual strong men, and how fat is needed for muscles to be functional and you remembered seeing Adam carrying 2 heavy ass amplifiers on his shoulders as if that was nothing and oh. You need him. Badly. Thankfully you have him.

Using your one hand which was at the back of his neck, you pulled him down to you. Teeth clashing and tongues dancing and spit getting everywhere. It was all consuming and still not enough.

Once the kiss ended, Adam rested his own forehead against yours. You worried for his neck and the constant way he has to twist and bend it to reach you. You gazed into each others eyes, mouths panting into each other and the street light from outside let warm light flow in. It felt like you couldn’t avoid Adam, he was wrapped over you, completely covering you from every angle and he was inside of you, throbbing and twitching. You were breathing in the same air. And you didn’t want him to leave, if you could you would capture this moment and stay here forever.

Why does this feel romantic?

It seemed like you weren’t the only one who thought that, since Adam straighten his back suddenly, as if he forgot what you are to him.

When you looked up into his endless eyes, he was slightly frowning, but that expression changed as soon as it came. Maybe you imagined it.

He grabbed your face roughly and forced your mouth to open wide for him. You let your tongue roll, and rubbed his thumb against it. Hot. He removed his tongue only to spit into your mouth. That’s also hot??

You closed your mouth to swallow his spit.

He seemed rather satisfied with that. He sped up the pace, skin slapping against skin and your moans and gasp and his grunts and string of loosely connected words which you weren’t paying attention to left his mouth. His smug face kind of pissed you off, so you reached out and twisted his pierced nipple.

Adam stifled his own moan by biting down on his lip. But the pleasure he felt from that, he couldn’t hide from you.

And once Adam came, he bit down on your neck. Great! More marks you will have to hide. Ughhh.

The way Adam immediately slowly pulled out of you surprised you. He seemed to enjoy staying in as long as possible. Your brain was a bit to slow to catch up with Adam’s movement. His face disappeared between your thighs, under your skirt and ah-

“Wait. You don’t have to…” Your sentence was interrupted by your own moan.

Adam’s lips latched around your clit and he sucked. Hard.

Overstimulation immediately cursed through your veins, your fingers found themselves at home in Adam’s hair and you tugged. Nails massaging Adam’s scalp, this is probably what heaven felt like.

His tongue traced idle patterns into your clit. Probably spelling his own name again…Asshole. But since you were already close when Adam was fucking into you romantic missionary style, you came with a sob and your body curled into itself. You tugged Adam away from your overstimulated hole. The fact that you were clenching around nothing made you a bit sad.

“If I ever say no to fucking you, honey pot, I need you to take me out the back and shoot me in the head.” Adam told you matter of fact.

You dumbly nodded at his words. Whatever he wants he can get. Genuinely.

“How are you so good at everything?” Your already barley existent filter was gone now in a post orgasmic haze.

Adam laughed at you, “What can I say, I’m a real pussy pleaser.” He sat properly up in the seat, tugging everything away properly. He must have thrown the condom away when your brain was still mush. Reaching over he grasped your arm and dragged you into his lap.

Once you rested your face against your shoulder, bare skin against bare skin and the heat radiating from his body you felt sleep over come you. Adam grasped your shoulders and shook you awake. Literally. You thought you were going to fall on the nasty floor where your guys used condoms laid around. At least the only condoms there were yours?

“You fallin' asleep on me again, baby?”

“Yes. So. Silence, m’tired.” You barley mumbled out. Throwing your head into Adam’s neck again.

“Get back to the passenger seat, slut. I’m driving you home.”

Groaning as if Adam just killed you, you crawled to the front again. There you also put your sweater back on and pocketed your phone. Your keys were also safe with you. That’s good, you love not being locked out. You adjusted your panties while you were at it.

Resting your head against the window, you closed your eyes again while Adam got back into the drivers seat. Turning on the engine, he started driving towards your home.

Since you were half asleep, it felt like it took a second for Adam to arrive in front of your apartment complex. You mumbled out a tired ‘Thanks for the ride.’ and climbed out of the seat.

“You know usu-“

You slammed the door shut before Adam could finish that sentence. The plan was to act like you didn’t hear him. Simply walking towards the entrance, you opened the door and opened it fully by pressing your side against it. You couldn’t care less about the usual. The less you knew of other girls the happier you are.

You looked back at the car, to at least wave Adam bye or something, but when you saw him slam his head against the wheel you stopped in your tracks. You watched the display of his frustration for a few seconds, he then raised his head, probably to check if you got in safely. He froze in horror when he realised you saw that.

Truth be told, you didn’t think Adam was capable of embarrassment. But here he was.

Holding eye contact for a painful second, you simply shook your head and quickly got inside. Walking up the stairs towards your apartment, you unlocked the door, threw off your shoes and collapsed into your bed.

———————————-

Since you usually keep your word, you started texting Adam back whenever you could. At least that seemed to make him happy. You think. It’s hard to tell over text. You also made an appointment with your obgyn, or as Adam called it your ‘Pussy doctor’. You’re close to blocking him.

On Monday, you walked with your friend towards her car in the uni parking lot. You were going to meet up with your other friends for lunch.

Of course Adam was also there, his car parked right across your friend. Gahh. His band members were with him, he just unlocked the car when everyone tumbled in. You could hear your ex call out, “Dude, what the fuck?! Are those used condoms!?”

You were going to kill Adam and then yourself. WAS HE WINKING AT YOU?? He’s dead. Thankfully no one noticed.

Your friend made a face at that info being yelled out across the parking lot, she unlocked her own car and got in. You didn’t hear more from the exchange, but from the way Adam looked happy you knew he was taunting your ex.

Your friend fastened her seatbelt, “I don’t get how anyone can fuck Adam. Like, he’s so disgusting, disrespectful, misogynistic..”

Biting at your lip, you already knew your friends would be mad at you if they found out about you and Adam from someone else besides you. Looking around the car, to make sure the windows were really closed, you took a deep breath.

Adam was in his own car, signalling to her that she has the right of way. She made a quick thank-you-wave and was about to back out of the parking space.

“I did.”

She slammed into the breaks, causing you to be catapulted forwards. The way she starred at you without saying anything, made you uncomfortable. She was speed running all the stages of grief, you could clearly see that. She sighed heavily, like the whole world was resting on her shoulders with your confession.

“……..Is he really that big?”

[fic-over-cannon]

Part 8: The New Normal

part 7 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x fem!reader

summary: both you and jason struggle with defining your new normal in the wake of your changed friendship

tags: angst, mentions of offscreen violence

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.2k

a/n: with this chapter we officially cross 20k words (whoops). i dropped quite a few hints about future developments in this chapter, i wonder if you'll find them all.

Jason’s never felt so bitter about successfully achieving something. The taste of it curdles in his mouth, sour and heavy. He’d known that amputating his heart would hurt but this? This was worse. It was bloodless and toothless and the worst thing he’s ever done to himself. To you. You’re friends now. Friends! No lasting repercussions to having what he wanted. Shockingly, no lasting repercussions for fucking up his secret identity either. He’s gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? 

He’d known, in that half-abstract kind of way that Talia had taught him, that if he had been earnest enough and insistent enough on the idea of friendship he’d be able to end the conversation there. No questions about why he had kissed you a second time. No scathing comments about how desperate he had been to know what you tasted like. He wouldn’t have to explain himself, or all of his messy inconvenient feelings, to you. Friends. Easy as that. 

Or at least that’s what he tells himself, walking in to face you. He’d know your footsteps anywhere and the just sound of them sets his senses on edge. All of his focus narrows down to you, hyperawareness kicking in. Jason doesn’t take any notes in class, can barely hear the sound of the professor speaking over you fidgeting next to him. To think his biggest worry a few months back had been if he would pass his courses. He can’t shake this fog, but he’s terrified of letting on just how gone he already is. Leaves a respectful three inches of space between the two of you through lunch that he obsessively maintains through Will telling some story about actually getting hit by a car over the weekend that Jason could care less about. He doesn’t breathe fully until the two of you are walking out of your last joined class of the day, cold air burning with every breath. He can do this.

“Can I– may I walk you home?” he asks uncertainly.

“Oh so you finally ask permission, huh?” you tease, and it’s the first thing he’s heard properly all day. Maybe it comes out sharper edged than he’s used to you directing at him, but it’s so close to resembling the easy camaraderie of the early days that he will take it.

“I was actually listening to your lecture on privacy,” Jason somehow finds the strength to sass back. 

“You can take the bus with me and walk me to my building door but that’s it. I already talked to the super about changing the door code.” Jason knows. He watched the super change it yesterday. 

“Just to the building. Scouts honour,” he says, drawing an x over his heart. 

When it comes to normal, Jason Todd sucks at pretending to be it. Or maybe you’ve just learned to read him too well. A space – not just literal but physical – exists between you now. He doesn’t sit right anymore, shoulders tensing up when you sit down next to him an only relaxing when you make no move to lean into him. He walks a full foot away now, no more arms accidentally brushing. He still keeps you fed – let it never be said that a friend of Jason’s goes hungry – but your fingers never brush as he hands containers over. Messages dwindle, text threads drying up. You can bear all of that, you can. It’s almost like the distant but friendly relationship you have with Will or half of your fellow interns. No, it’s the part where almost a week later, Jason still won’t look you in the eye. 

It would be so easy to dismiss everything else as growing pains, the both of you testing and reassessing where the new lines have been drawn. This isn’t that. Jason has drawn a line and it’s one that feels like a cut every time you brush up against it. These days there’s a tension in your jaw that you didn’t carry  before. Magically it appears whenever Jason chooses a particularly interesting patch of paint on the wall behind you to stare at instead of meeting your gaze. You think you hide the way your hands clench in your lap pretty well. You laugh and joke, exclaiming over Lina’s one liners, asking Rei about his next swim meet, and gasping in all the right places over Will’s sprained wrist. Keeping up the appearance of normalcy is tiring in a way that it hadn’t been before.  So your smiles are a little more forced than they were before, so what? The two of you are still friends and no one else is any wiser. 

There’s a Rogue attack, close enough to campus that it goes into lock down for the first time this semester. One second you’re following Jason’s broad back cutting a swathe through the frightened crowd of students to the muster location and then suddenly he’s gone. It doesn’t matter how quickly you crank your head to the side, he’s just vanished. Again. You spend the whole two hours huddled up in the auditorium glued to your phone as you watch the Red Hood fight Black Mask over a shitty news helicopter live stream. You’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, have practically become numb to the sirens and the drills for the worst that the city has to offer, but not today. Today your heart is in your mouth as you watch Jason take a blow to the head and go reeling across your phone screen. Breathing shakily, you realize that if he were to die – now – you’d never get to tell him just how fully he’s made a home for himself in your life, in your chest.

Obligingly, Jason doesn’t die today. Instead he pops up in the auditorium just as the all clear to evacuate has been sounded, ruefully explaining the mark on his cheek to your friends as the result of a panicking freshman’s fist. He’s a good liar you notice, through the hazy adrenaline rush of he’s alive, he’s alive pounding through your skull. 

Later that night lying in bed, you stretch your hand up, observing the way the light from passing cars cuts across your palm. You should probably do something about the shutters that don’t close right onto the fire escape but there’s always a thousand other things clamouring for attention. Besides, on nights like this when your thoughts turn in on themselves and sleep is a distant memory, the glow of the world outside provides a kind of comfort to you. No matter how bad things seem, life rumbles ever onwards. So what if every time you struggle with the keys to the front door it’s because you get lost in the memory of the one bright moment when it seemed like you could finally keep Jason? He’s not here now. The sheets have been washed – twice – but sometimes in that hazy place between sleeping and waking you swear you can still smell him. You think about the last time Jason had smiled at you, real and true and so sweetly uncomplicated. Your hand balls up into a fist and you cradle it to your chest. Maybe you suck at pretending everything is normal too.  

You must, because two weeks later, Danika corners you at one of your Wednesday study sessions. The student union is busy, tables full of students finally starting to realize exams are fast approaching with all the unwavering care of a freight train. 

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?” she asks, just as you’re getting up.

“D’you mind if we talk and walk? I’m dying for caffeine and my stamp card says the next cup is free at The Grind,” you reply distractedly, digging your wallet out of your bag. 

“Oh you know I’m always down for a little snack,” she says, but there’s a note to her intonation that you can’t parse. 

The line for the coffee shop is long, but moving fast. You don’t notice anything off until you look up from struggling to extricate your membership card from your wallet, soft card stock folding under you nails. Danika is tugging at her hair as she stands next to you, twirling the strands tight around her finger until the circulation cuts off, the way she only does when she’s nervous and building up to something. 

She takes a deep breath and asks, “Are you and Jason, like, okay?” ripping the bandaid off.  

“I– why would you ask me that?” you deflect, scrambling to figure out where, exactly, your performance had faltered. The line surges forward, carrying the two of you along with it.

“Just, the last week or so something’s been off between you two. You know how you’re so obviously his favourite and he forgets the meaning of ‘personal space’ but only around you and he’s always–”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you struggle to cut her off. “It can’t be that bad, he’s good friends with all of us.”

“I’m pretty sure that whenever you start speaking the rest of us turn invisible or something,” Danika says wryly. “But the last week or so the vibes have just been off. He’s even less talkative than usual and I have been this–” she pinches her fingers together, pink nails catching the light “–close to recommending you a better concealer. So did you guys fight or something? Because you can tell me, you know.” She looks at you with wide, earnest eyes. “Because it doesn’t matter what it’s about, I’m on your side. If you wanna drop him as a friend, we’ll all do it no questions asked.”

“No, we uh, we didn’t fight but hold that thought okay?” you reassure her, before hurrying through your order as quickly as you can. Danika’s already standing by the pickup counter, finger still twisting in her hair.

“Or like, if you need a body buried the two of us could definitely take him,” she offers.

“We didn’t fight, okay? I’m serious. And while I’m happy that you’d hide a body for me, it’s really, honestly, not necessary. Me and Jason are fine,” you reassure her. The high neck of your sweater feels too tight.

“Alright so we don’t go all Gone Girl on him but whatever happened hurt you and I don’t like it when my best friend is hurting. Whatever it is I’m not gonna tell anyone, not if you don’t want me to,” she says, suddenly turning earnest again. 

“Jesus, it was nothing okay? It’s just, do you remember that night we all went out after Thanksgiving?” you offer up.

“The night where we were all taking bets on if Jason would make a move before or after the club?” she chimes in. 

“You were what?!” you hiss, heart stuttering and palms suddenly damp. 

“I’m kidding! Kidding!” she says with a laugh. “Sorry, you were just getting so wound up, I wanted to bring the mood up a bit. We didn’t actually bet on it. We did talk about though, before you both got there.”

You bite your lips, weigh up how much truth you want to tell. The barista calls out your order and you’re thankful for the extra moment to gather yourself.

“I was drunk and I tried to kiss him, okay?” She gasps. “And then he shut that shit down. He made it really, really clear that we were only ever gonna be friends,” you finish, gulping down your tea to cover for your embarrassment and immediately burning your tongue. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s close enough without having to debride the festering wound you still haven’t made peace with. 

“Wait you’re sure that’s what he said? Absolutely no chance of anything?” Danika seems stunned. “I could swear there’s no way whatever you two have going on is platonic.” 

“Kinda hard to misinterpret the whole ‘that was a bad idea let’s just stay friends speech’. I wasn’t drunk enough to forget that.” You study your drink with false interest. 

“Oh. Oh I’m sorry,” she says, the kind of soft that she almost never is. “He’s an idiot if he doesn’t realising exactly what he’s missing out on.” Danika reaches out and rubs your shoulder. “We’ll find you someone else that’s way, way hotter and makes better life choices. Until then, he’s on thin fucking ice.”

“This is all my shit, yeah? Leave him be, we’ll figure it out and this’ll all blow over,” you warn her. There’s a certainty to your words that you definitely don’t feel. But Jason shouldn’t be punished for the crime of not returning your affection and so you’ll just have to learn how to fake normalcy better. “Plenty of more fish in the sea or whatever. I’ll get over him.”

“Fine, but I’m gonna trust you to tell me if you don’t,” she says, linking your arm through hers. The two of you head back to the group, weaving your way through outstretched legs and scattered bags littering the space between tables. There’s a kind of comfort in having your charade seen through by someone that cares enough to ask. It won’t do in the long run, but this stutter step with Jason won’t last forever. 

“Hey you’re still living in the Alley right?” Danika asks offhandedly, sliding back into the booth.

“Haven’t moved since first year, Dani.”

“Just be careful, then, okay? I saw on the news that there’s been more muggings in that area.” 

You almost choke on your tea. “Yeah okay, I’ll avoid any muggers,” you croak. Jason’s eyes burn a hole into the side of your head.

[zgvlt]

each of your fingers like rays of the sun leona kingscholar x reader

summary: in which you like to hold and to be held by leona's hand, a lot (not like he's not in the same boat)

tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, fluff/romance, established relationship, 4k+ words, not beta read

author’s note (see end notes for more): The fourth fic to my five senses series

you can also read this on AO3

I.

The day was concluding and yet the date was merely reaching its beginning, Leona rising with the setting sun. 

He had slept the afternoon away, not having anything urgent to do, not when his calculations dictated he still had some absences left before it would become a real problem. As for his location, he had taken to sleeping in his room as opposed to his other favored locations—only a strategic choice, chosen based on the demands you had made of him earlier.

His choice was correct, as expected, for now there was no need to leave his room to find you and no need for you to do the same, not when you strolled into his room, as you have many times before (but not as of late, to his disdain). It was as though his becoming yours meant not only his heart but his room would become yours as well.

He would be a hypocrite to complain about such a thing, but he cared too little for becoming a good person now.

“Don’t make so much noise,” he complained half-heartedly, not bothering to pretend that he had not just woken up. He was sure you could tell anyway, your stifled laughter as you watched him yawn, your own attempts at scritching the back of his neck and ears. With his good mood, he supposed he would allow it. 

“Looks like you’ve already set it up,” you said, glancing at his desk, the table turned to face his bed, and with misfortune you took to sitting on the chair than with him on the bed. “Should I play white or black?”

“White is already facing you,” and for a few other reasons he would rather not tell you, things you really had no need to know, “so you should just play that.”

“Okay,” and although you haven't started the game yet, your fingers hover over the chessmen, stopping over a particular pawn that Leona thinks you intend to move first.

“I’m surprised you even want to play chess,” Leona said, finally sitting up properly to face his side of the board, “I didn’t think you knew how to play… Do you know how to play?”

It’s nothing against you; he would have accepted your offer to play with him even if you didn’t, but it surprises him (pleasantly) that you might. Sure, he’s seen you watch him go against his dorm members, but other than that he wasn’t really sure if it was because you were interested in the game or if it was because you were interested in him.

“I watched a bunch of videos!” you said, defending yourself, “I’m not going to be a grandmaster anytime soon, but I know what the chess pieces and pawns are and what they do and, you know, enough basics to play.”

Leona grins at the distinction. Look at you, doing your research—you might actually stand a chance against him.

“Then I don’t have to go easy on you,” he replied, before adding a little lie, “not that I had any intention of doing so in the first place.”

Your opening move is standard. You don’t do something stupid or overly advanced by moving the pawns at the edges of the row, even though he would have liked to see a strategy involving either or. You go for a popular but beginner-friendly opening: the Queen’s Pawn to d4. It’s aggressive in a sense, a way to dissuade him from moving the king’s or queen’s pawn for his opening… or perhaps you wanted him to take the risk. 

He looked up to meet your eyes, and he didn’t have to look any further down to know that you were smiling. 

Cute, but it’s really too bad that he has no intentions of falling for your bait.

“Knight to your f6,” he mumbled, more for you to hear than himself. Leona’s not particularly chatty when playing, most people don’t have the capacity to do so when they’re too busy thinking five moves ahead, but he doesn’t want you to be too tense. If you wanted to talk about, well, anything really, you should do it. This was a date after all, impromptu it may be, not a competition.

“I wanted you to move–”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why I didn’t move there,” Leona said with a drawl, watching the tips of your fingers touch each and every pawn, clearly contemplating what to move next. Usually you had to move whichever piece or pawn you touched first and with anyone else he might have used the rule to his advantage, but he instead waits for you to decide patiently. 

If the consequence was having a game run slower than normal, was it really a consequence at all if it meant you stuck around a little longer?

“Pawn to… c4?”

“You don’t have to say it out loud,” Leona informed you, “but that’s a good move.”

Because it was a good move—probably your original plan anyway, if he had made the move you wanted him to. Regardless, you were able to strengthen your control of the center.

You smile at the praise and Leona tries not to smile back, distracting himself by moving a pawn to g6, right beside the knight.

Your next few moves don’t matter too much in the grand scheme of things—all he needs is to fianchetto his bishop, something you can’t really stop no matter what you do—but he does think it’s amusing that you end up mirroring his moves, clearly unsure of how to move when he’s too focused on defending than attacking you at the moment.

With two squares cleared out, he moves the rook and the king.

“I don’t think you’d cheat in chess, so what even was that?” you asked.

“Huh. Looks like you haven’t made it to the video about castling yet,” Leona quipped, but before you could complain he stood up, making his way to stand behind you. He doesn’t think he makes for a very good teacher, more of an instructor than anything, but he’ll try… only because you’re expecting him to, clearly wanting to replicate whatever it was he did.

“I’m sure you know that the most important piece in the game is the king.” With his index, he pointed to White’s king, and with his remaining fingers, he temporarily set aside the bishop to its right. “I’m sure you saw how I purposefully cleared these two squares—it’s because you need this particular rook for this.”

Without talking about it, the both of you quickly look around, not bothering to hide your sighs of relief when a chess piece named man fails to appear before your eyes. 

“Because the king is the most important piece, it has to be well protected, defended. That’s where the rook comes in—a rook is basically a castle, which is what the move is called, so the king is pretty much hiding behind a bunch of walls to defend itself.

“When you make sure the king is defended throughout the game, the less chances of it falling into any traps or getting cornered… or you’ll at least have other pieces in convenient positions to attack if needed.”

“Castle to protect the king,” you muttered to yourself, sliding the two pieces together, “like this?”

“No.” Placing a hand over yours—the hand holding onto your king—he nudges the rook out of the way, effectively swapping their positions. “Like this. They don’t just move to the right and left, they have to swap as well.”

Leona hadn’t thought much of his clasping your hand—he’s not shy with giving you the physical attention  you want—but your words thereafter do affect him, a fluster that takes him a little longer than usual to push down.

“I get it now! Thanks to you, my king definitely won’t fall too fast now,” and then, for extra measure, you let out a laugh. It’s hyena-like and Leona wonders if he’s left you alone with Ruggie one too many times, if his assistant’s been telling you one too many things.

He lets go of your hand with a click of his tongue, returning your pieces to their old positions. Here he is, teaching you how to play better so you could increase your chances of winning against him, but here you are making a joke out of him.

Still, he huffs in amusement when you move the bishop, then the rook, and then the pads of your fingers meet the king once again.

II

Sometimes Leona thinks he indulges you a bit too much—well, it’s less think and more know, but since he can’t be any more self-aware than he already is, he mostly just lets you do as you please.

That was how it was before you started dating, after all—him hardly reciprocating your actions, teasing retorts at most as his heart banged against his chest and hurt his ears. You and all your neon signs pointing that yes, you were attracted to him, and him finally having enough of you embarrassing yourself (and him), leading to him deciding that if you were going to keep that up without saying anything, then you wouldn’t have any objections if he asked you out himself. He remembers more than just your happiness—he remembers the pride you could barely contain at having him do the asking, as if it was an achievement.

Still, you can’t just expect to get away with everything. You should’ve recognized the inevitability of him biting back; he would argue that you preferred when he did. It wasn’t just that you thought it was fun when he did do so, the lazy lion getting up to do something, but more so you liked the idea that he could actually take initiative to do something for himself as opposed to simply having it handed to him.

These days, it’s you making yourself into his personal alarm clock. 

Leona’s quit skipping every class he could. He’s not against graduating, believe it or not, and it definitely helps that he genuinely wants to see the Afterglow Savannah improve and that taking up an internship is a prime opportunity to start getting work done. It also helps that he has someone (sometwo if you count Ruggie, but he’s not very effective so he chooses not to)  constantly pushing him to attend his classes.

Still, he’d prefer to not go to each and every one. Some classes, in his opinion, are just downright repetitive, if not pointless, things he already knows being taught to him again. Skipping those seemed valid to him, but it seemed it was not to you.

“Come on, kitty,” you kept his hand in a tight grip, dragging him along the hallway. It was empty considering everybody was already in class, and while it would have embarrassed most people, Leona was just glad nobody would be present to eavesdrop. “You’re late to class.”

“We’re late to class,” Leona countered, “did you forget that you have class, too? On an entirely different building?”

“Okay, whose fault is that?” you huffed, “You’re the one who kept me asleep!”

“But you were sleeping so soundly, weren’t you? What kind of guy would I be if I were to wake my partner up?”

“You would be a gentleman who saved my attendance record, that’s what. Professor Crewel is gonna kill me one of these days,” you muttered to yourself, “or Professor Trein, or maybe even the headmaster himself.”

“You’re exaggerating,” he said with a shred of a laugh, “it’s not like they don’t know I’m to blame.”

You stopped in your tracks to look at him. 

“No way is our relationship so widespread that the faculty knows about it.”

“Even my family knows, so obviously the faculty does, too. Just because they’re adults doesn’t mean they’re above gossiping,” Leona said, grumbling as though sorely disappointed with the older generation, “not even Trein. He’s a history professor, which means he’s just better at separating fact from fiction.”

“And the facts are?”

Leona snorted, lifting your enclosed hands and waving them around. “The facts are clear as day. I wouldn’t just be allowing you to hold my hand willy-nilly like this if there wasn’t anything between us, much less allow myself to be dragged to class like this when I could be taking a perfectly good nap.”

“Go take a nap in class, then,” you retorted, “the important thing is that you attend, not that you pay attention.”

“Huh, wonder who taught you to be such a bad influence?” he asked, trailing off the end of his rhetorical question with  yawn. “Well, if you’re gonna be a bad influence, what’s stopping you from going all the way with it?”

“What are you planning?”

“I was just thinking that I felt bad for always making you late to your classes,” he drawled. His classroom was a few steps away, but with you having relinquished most of the pressure on his hand, he decided it was his turn to take control of which path to take; that path was away from the main building and heading towards one of his favorite areas on campus—the botanical gardens. “Not only should I bring you there, but I should apologize to Professor Crewel for taking up so much of a precious student’s time.”

“Do you have a death wish? My classmates will never let me hear the end of it!” you whined, “If you want to sleep in the greenhouse, you should have just said so. Don’t drag me into it.”

You could protest a little more if you wanted, make him stop his tracks and leave you to walk back on your own, but you simply complained about how unfair he was being. Leona thinks it has to do with his hands—well, hand—still intertwined with yours, the fact that he’s the one doing the holding this time around. Perhaps you’re letting it happen so you can spend a little more time with him. He’s the same, after all, the reason he’s awake and doing this much.

“Then let’s take a nap in the greenhouse next time. That way, you’ll be able to wake up for your class in time. You’ll even have the professor serve as your alarm clock,” he chuckled, even as you threatened to leave him behind. He knows you won’t, because your grip is just as tight despite it, only loosening—with hesitance, a fact that makes his heart swell just the smallest bit—when no more detours can be done.

“I’ll see you later.” 

Leona shook his head. 

“No, I’ll pick you up.”

Leona’s never seen himself as a particularly domestic partner, but you smile at him and he thinks he might have to do this walking you to class thing more often. He can lose a few minutes of sleep for that.

III

“I learned something recently,” you began, “about palm reading, and finger lengths, and all of that. From Cater.”

“Yeah?” Leona asked, indulging you. “Show me.”

He knew where this was going, having recognized a pattern in your behavior as of late. He was not opposed to it—he’s an enabler of most of your antics, admittedly—but he does want to see what kind of tactic you’d initiate this time.

“Apparently our hands hold meanings too.” He’s still resting his head on your lap without any intention of leaving, but he adjusted his arms so you could take hold of his hands more easily. “I don’t know if I believe it entirely, but considering we use them so often throughout our life,  I guess it makes sense… Also, it just seemed fun to learn about.”

One of your fingers went to trace the sides of his, moving along the tips and gaps in between. “For example, if your index finger is longer than your ring finger, you’re probably a confident, natural leader. Someone calculative and analytical. A risk taker, someone who prefers others to take the initiative but happily takes the spoils, and–”

“Are you sure you talked to Cater and you’re not just making this up?” he accused half-heartedly, “Maybe you’re cherry-picking things you’ll think suit me.”

“–and someone who likes their solitude, dislikes it when their time alone is disturbed.”

“Never mind. It doesn’t fit me after all,” claimed Leona, “I allow you to interrupt my alone time all the time.”

“Hello? Like you don’t enjoy my presence. I’m joining it, not interrupting it,” you argued back, “in any case, let’s say the ring is the longer one of the two.”

Your finger stilled against the aforementioned finger, before tracing an imaginary ring around the digit. 

“It’s said that people with longer ring fingers are seen as more… ugh,” you sighed, as though reluctant to admit something, “ , they’re more attractive.”

“Oh?” He grinned, looking away from your hands to stare right at your face. You wouldn’t look at him properly, so he tugged at your fingers to catch your attention. “So I’m attractive? More attractive than most people you’ve seen?”

“Charming too, clearly,” you sighed as you rolled your eyes, though Leona noticed that it was not exactly a no, “which is another trait of people with longer ring fingers… I guess both descriptions work out for you, so it doesn’t actually matter which one has a few extra centimeters.”

“What about the palm lines then?” he asked, “Fortune telling isn’t really my style, the idea of placing all my bets on some kind of  fate ain’t really all that appealing to me, but I’ll hear you out.”

“Oh, um…” You grasp a hand, and then two, and just… stare at them, following the lines with your fingertips. “I already forgot.”

“Heh, you forgot? Really, if you wanted to hold my hand that bad you could just ask, it’s not like I’d ever say no to you,” Leona teased, baring his teeth as he grinned. “Have I ever said no to you?”

“No?” you answered, “I mean, that’s not why…! Okay, I really did want to try reading your palms, but Cater and I only talked for maybe twenty minutes max? I only remember, like,  the heart line.”

“Then read that. What’s the issue?”

You went silent, suddenly shutting your mouth. If it was anyone else, Leona would have thought they were embarrassed—it was something to do with romance after all and, well, that was a topic that flustered many. However, because it was you, it was difficult to say it was because you would feel embarrassment—you do lots of embarrassing things around him, after all. The truth behind your hesitation was…

“Well,” you began, fingers pointing to the long line stretched across his hand, “this is your love line. Based on the length, it would mean… Leona?”

You trailed off as Leona shut his palm, trapping your finger within the warmth of his hand. 

“I don’t need to hear it after all. I already know the answer, anyway.”

IV

Leona thinks (knows) he spoils you, but he thinks you spoil him just as much, to the point that he finds himself wondering if his existence is enough to warrant such treatment. After all, days like today he knows he hasn’t done anything particularly nice or special, and yet it feels as though he has with the way you hold onto him (or the way he allows himself to be held instead of holding).

“Give me your hand.” These days you don’t ask (though you still play tricks to retrieve your treat). What you do more often is demand, demand in the way royals like him do, because you know you can do so with him by your side, with him.

“Going to read my palms again?” he joked, already handing his hands over as an offering.

“Maybe some other time,” you said, “I was just thinking… your hands are kind of rough, aren’t they?”

“If I were a typical prince, I would’ve been offended,” he commented. Sure, he kept himself groomed—he’s still a part of a royal family, lowly a member as he is, so personality aside he’d rather not have people point out anything off with his looks too—but things such as keeping his hands moisturized just weren’t in his list of priorities.

“I don’t mind it like this.” He hadn’t asked, but he did wonder. Perhaps you knew that. “I wouldn’t have minded one way or the other, but I do like the roughness. It… suits you, I guess?”

Leona laughed, “Because I’m not a gentle person, huh?”

“Because it shows me that you’re someone who’s always worked hard,” you explained, “no matter what anyone says, I think this much is proof that the person you are now isn’t just because you were lucky to be born like that. Lazy and effort-averse as you may be at times, things like this prove that you, too, worked hard to achieve the strength and intelligence you have.”

He really doesn’t think he’s done anything to deserve the way you treat him, and it’s on days like today that he remembers what he loves most about you. It’s not just that you’re fun, that you’re amusing, that you’re cute—it’s because you are one of the few who can see past his pride and his arrogance, his imperious attitude; it’s because you care for him so easily in the ways he finds himself too prideful to imitate, fumbling the words spoken by his heart.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, terribly enamored of the way you bring your lips up to the knuckles of his fist. Those hands are not clean, have been used in fights for better or for worse, hands capable of destruction with some few choice chants, yet you kiss them as though they were innocent. “Seriously.”

“Of course, my prince.” You laughed even as his fingers stretched to cover your mouth, and like the sun peeking from the clouds your grin remained present and bright.

V

“Just two moves…” you muttered to yourself, “I can’t believe I fell for that! Or, you know, did that, since it was my fault. I literally read about this pattern on some chess website.”

“That’s what you get for experimenting without care,” Leona said, shaking his head as he returned the pawns and queen back to their positions. “Never thought I’d see someone use f3 as a first move, easily the worst opening you could do, followed by g4 which is the worst follow-up you could do. Guess there’s really a first time for everything—I finally got to play a Fool’s Mate against someone for once.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m glad you had your fun,” you grumbled. Malice wasn’t present, but he could tell you did want to win at least one match this time around. Maybe he would help out with that, though not without seeing what you could do, first.

“Then try some other opening or pattern,” he told you, “looks like you actually know more this time around.”

“Of course I did. I didn’t want to look foo–okay, never mind.” You grabbed hold of a pawn, twirling it around between your fingers. “Let’s go again.”

“Think you’re going to win this time?” he asked. It had come off as a tease, a way to rile you up, but the reality was that he was genuinely curious if you had a strategy you wanted to try and pull off.

“Maybe. Just indulge me this time, okay?”

Then you move the pawn in front of the king two squares forward. King’s Pawn Opening. Not bad, especially since you could control the center if you choose your moves right. It’s the next move, however, the one you pull right after he mirrored yours, that caused your plan to immediately click in his brain. 

“Bishop to c4. You think you’re funny, do you?”

“Are you going to go along with it?

“I’ll show you.” Which, for Leona, was another way of saying of course. You were you, and with a message so charming, who was he to deny you, the both of you, of fun? “Knight to c6. Truly a first time for everything—never would I have thought I’d lose a game on purpose.”

“Queen to h5.”

“Knight to f6.”

“Queen to f7.” You grinned gleefully. He supposed losing was worth it after all. “Scholar’s mate.”

end notes | masterlist of all my works | series masterlist my other leona fics [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

[1] Title. The title can be in both Leona and the reader's perspective. If you liken Leona to the sun, then wouldn’t his fingers be the rays of warmth? And for Leona, since he comes from Afterglow Savannah, I think it means a lot for him to compare the reader to the sun, and though he’s already used to the warmth, he finds himself craving the one coming from the reader.

[2] Pieces vs Pawns. Many people do use “pieces” (or some other term in their respective language) as a catch-all term, but really pawns and pieces are different, with chessmen being the appropriate term for both pawns and pieces (in English, from my sourcs). Since reader makes the distinction, it shows Leona that they made the effort to research his favorite game. He would have appreciated the gesture of playing with him nonetheless, but that was a plus to him.

[3] Opening moves. Reader wanted to do the Queen’s Gambit, since it’s a popular and well-known opening. It’s also a move with a monarch in the title. Chosen not necessarily to represent the reader (see a different note for that), but you could see it that way if you want. They could not push through because Leona saw through them. Anyway, Queen’s gambit is White to d4, and afterwards c4, and while they did that they couldn’t complete a gambit because Leona went to move the knight instead of trying to control the center immediately.  

[4] Leona’s opening move is called King’s Indian Defense, a response against the Queen’s gambit… and my personal favorite opening when I had the misfortune of playing Black (a.k.a. going second) in matches. Also chosen for the monarch in the move name. When White goes d4, the knight (horse) goes f6. At White’s c4, pawn moves to g6.

[5] Yes most of these notes will be about chess I’m sorry! Okay so a few other choices I made in writing the chess scenes. Reader, both times, plays white (goes first), for a multitude of reasons—Leona putting them first, them being the light of his life, Leona wanting to give them the advantage, all of that. Leona goes second because, yeah… the second-born, second-place thing, but also he willingly chooses it for the challenge, because it makes it more fun for him, and because he enjoys just watching you go first and reacting to the things you do. It’s less of Leona going easy on you and more of him trying to see what you know and how well you can predict moves so he can teach you appropriately later on.

[6] Castling. As Leona explained, Castling is a move in chess specifically to protect the king. Also slight humpty dumpty reference. It was believed that he was based on a king (and he’s commonly depicted as an egg-king in media), and when he sat on the wall he had a great fall… so basically whatever “castling” Leona did against reader was a failure because he fell for the reader, lol.

[7] I actually don’t know what finger is longer for Leona.

[8] Ending moves. Scholar’s mate was chosen… For obvious reasons. He lets the reader win because he thinks it's cute that they chose that move from their “research” HAHAHA.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Fan-Fiction: Warning the Reader About Content

Anonymous asked: Hi, I'm writing a fic that deals with a pretty excruciating topic, I don't want to do it too explicitly, but not superficially either. The suffering of the protagonist could cause upset readers, so what do you suggest I do to warn them without spoilers and without discouraging reading? (Because as already said it's not too graphic, so I wouldn't want to warn too excessively.) Also, how can I write something angsty and still be believable? I don't want it to be overly melodramatic but I don't want it to be superficial either

[Ask edited for length.]

If you're writing fan-fiction and are posting it to a fiction sharing site like AO3, there are tagging protocols in place for story content, so you would need to look at what's required or typical for users of the site.

If you're posting it to a site like tumblr, you will want to do some research on how content warnings and tags are handled on that site specifically. For example, on tumblr, if the character is going to experience domestic abuse, you would at the very least use the hashtag trigger warning for domestic abuse, which you will see me use (among others) in this post because of the content we're discussing.

Depending on what you're posting and where, you may also choose to do an author's note to give the reader additional warning. Again, using domestic abuse as an example, you could do something like, "Author's note: while the protagonist in this story does experience domestic abuse, it is not explicit and most of it occurs off the page." This gives the reader an idea of what to expect on top of the relevant trigger warnings/content warnings and appropriate tagging.

As far as how to properly portray the situation with the right amount of angst but without melodrama, it's a good idea to do some research on the situation you're trying to portray. It's very helpful if you can find a guide to portraying a character with that experience, and even more helpful if you can find firsthand experiences via interviews, blog posts, etc. where people discuss their feelings during and after the experience. You may also wish to use a sensitivity reader who can vet your portrayal and make sure it isn't inauthentic or harmful

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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[bagginshieldweek24]

Six days away from Bagginshield Week 2024!

This year's Bagginshield Week is steadily approaching, and since we're in the final stretch, it's time to share the AO3 collection and other tid bits for posting.

I'll repeat that the only means I use are Tumblr and AO3, so if you want me to share your work here, you either have to post on either of those two sites, or if you're using another then make a promo post of your work here in Tumblr.

You may make a masterpost as well if you like and I will also share it.

You can post works out of order, meaning, a work with Day 6 prompts on Day 2 or the reverse.

You can also post your works in groups or all together at the end of the week if those options suit you better.

All I ask is that you mention somewhere (beginning/ending Author's Notes, promo post) which prompts you're using.

Giving a little shout out to the blog is appreciated, but definitely not necessary, no worries about it!

Do remember to warn properly! You can keep any other general tags vague and scarce if you wish, but please warn at the beginning/ending notes, before the work text, or in tags, and enact the general rule of caution: if you're unsure it should be included, tag it either way, and you may drop it later with feedback from readers.

The AO3 Collection is already open to set up your drafts or even post early if necessary (say, you're very busy on Monday and rather post that day's work before, just in case). You can head here (plain url: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/bagginshield_week_24) for it!

If you're only posting on Tumblr or for promo posts, this year the tag I'll be tracking will be #bagginshieldw24, or you can also tag the blog directly, @bagginshieldweek24.

For any other tips about posting onto AO3, just keep reading!

Different Posting Dates Since the Collection is now open and you can go in an drop any drafts you may or may not have ready, a general word of advice is to set a different Publication Date the day when you do make your work public. This is done to update the date and ensure your work will appear along with that very day's batch of other publications, and can be done very easily: all you have to do is go to the Associations section of the New Work page, and give it a yes to the option "Set a different publication date" on the day of. Mind you, this means that you cannot set the date before hand. For example, you can't set the publication date to June 25 if you're making the Draft on the 20, or the site will only show you a "the work can't be posted in the futer" like message and you'll have to change it again. (Below an example image.)

Privacy Settings On the matter of privacy, which has become quite the subject due to things like spam comments, AI data bases and harrassment, there are some precautions one can take, such as limit comments and make your works accessible only to signed AO3 users. As the event moderator, I will not limit participants' right to any modicum of privacy, safety and the likes, and you can make use of these features freely. On the New Work page, you can find these options on the Privacy section, right above the Work Text box near the end of the page (image below).

You may also go to your own page, to Preferences, and set your works to be hidden from search engines ("when possible" as is worded).

[skyfallscotland]

20 Questions for the Writers Tag Game!

I was tagged by @caeli0306

1. Total number of AO3 works

Nine!

2. Total AO3 word count 985,672! We're about to crack the mil, baby! And in just over a year, too 🥺💗

3. Fandoms I've written for

So many! But if we keep it to works currently posted: ACOTAR & The Empyrean series.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

Truth & TalonFear & FlameMacchiatoFurykeep quiet (nothing comes as easy as you)

5. Do I respond to comments?

Yes, always! I love receiving them, so replying is the least I can do 💗

6. What has the angstiest ending?

...Truth & Talon, actually...

No, I'm just kidding....mostly... 👁👄👁 I'm saying Dangerous Devotion. 7. What has the happiest ending?

Fury, I think.

8. Have I received hate?

Not recently/in the Empyrean fandom (unless you count people telling me they're disappointed with my choices, lol, shoutout to that one girl who was sad Remi wasn't a virgin!) but I have before for sure.

9. Do I write smut? And what kind?

Sure. What kind like...kinks? Praise kink? Cockwarming? What do you mean what kind? 😭 The hot kind 💗

10. Do I write crossovers?

I have before, but I don't have any currently published.

11. Have I ever had a fic stolen?

Multiple times, lol. she's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment.

Honestly though, please don't do this. It's not a nice feeling. It doesn't help you, either, or anyone else. Wouldn't you rather contribute something new to the fandom you're in? 12. Have I ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Some of my older Tolkien works were translated into Russian and I've had offers for Remi's Version, but I prefer that translations stay on AO3 (with very limited exceptions) which I suppose limits some people.

13. Have I ever co-written a fic?

I mean, most of my ideas are bounced off @justallihere and we throw dialogue/ideas back and forth so we'll give her... 12% of the credit for my next work. But no, I've never properly co-written anything. I feel like it would be weird, right? Unless you're writing a POV each?

14. What is my all time favorite ship?

Xaden Riorson/Remi Sorrengail 😌

15. A WIP I'll never finish?

I really hope to finish the things I've started so far. I have a few on the go, but the brain does what it wants. Tattoo-artist Xaden is sitting right on the edge there. I have 10k words of a scribe Violet AU that I might never pick up again, so let's say that.

16. Writing strengths?

Feelings, apparently. Lots of people tell me I make them cry, lmao.

17. Writing weaknesses?

Battles, action, fight scenes. I hate them. I hate them so much I'll write in storylines that change the canon universe so I can skip them completely. Ick.

18. Do I like foreign language dialogue?

I just write, for example, 'he said in Tyrrish' after the dialogue, I like that sort of thing, I think it's indicative enough without doing all italics and strange indicators like people used to back in the day, lol.

19. First fandom I wrote for?

Lord of the Rings. Very short lived. Was told it was "the worst fic I've ever read in my life" and that was that. I was maybe thirteen at the time 😌

20. Favorite fic I've written?

I cannot and will not pick a favourite child, but I will say Fury is very close to me. It got me back into writing and it came at a time in my life where I was really struggling and finding who I wanted to be and really changing my life. Without Tessa, there wouldn't be Remi 💗

I feel like everyone I know has already been tagged by someone, so I'll just open it to the floor for anyone who wants to participate 🤷‍♀️

[yujeong]

Favourite Underrated Ship? Simple answer: Every single Pete rarepair! -> PorschePete? Iconic! Brilliant! Phenomenal! Most people love "best friends who kiss", I love "secret third thing". However one enjoys them, though, they're delicious to consume😌 (You might think it's not an underrated ship, but I'd like to inform you that it has, in fact, less than 100 fics on Ao3, so it very much is in my book. I'm happy to have contributed to it by posting two of them, but I'd love it if there were more. Hopefully, I'll get inspired anew one day.) -> KinnPete? Oh please, the power dynamics make me giggle like a 10 year old girl playing with Barbie dolls. Such glorious toxicity, such perfect ways Kinn could use and abuse Pete to his benefit, either with or without knowing he's doing it. You can do so much with them, either pre, during or post canon and I get so excited thinking about it. (This one has less than 50(!) fics posted, so I'm super thankful to the few authors who have gifted me some amazing works. Sharing my personal favourite because it deserves to be cherished 🥹) -> ArmPete? Do I even need to sell this one? It can do fluff, it can do angst, it can do smut, it can do it all. My personal favourite flavour of it is Arm having unrequited feelings for Pete because it's just so deliciously angsty 😇 I love me some pain, I can't help it. (This one doesn't have any fics to its name, besides one in Chinese. I'm devastated. I did personally have an idea for a multi-chaptered fic with 3k words already written, but if I manage to focus on it properly one day, it'll end up being a simple one-shot.) -> KimPete? Oh, you mean the ship I got so obsessed over I wrote 25k words of them platonically bonding, while having Kim think to himself more than once how pretty Pete is? You mean the ship that shares so many similarities with VegasPete, while still having its own identity based on the differences between Kim and Vegas? You mean the love of my life? (Again, fics for this one are almost non-existent, which is a shame, but understandable. One day, I'll manage to enrich the tag. One day.) -> TankhunPete? Take KinnPete's fucked up power imbalance and twist it in a more peculiar direction. What you get is this ship, which makes me so uncomfortable but so, so intrigued. (Incredibly underrated with how few fics it has, but a special thanks to this one for altering my brain chemistry when I first read it.) -> BigPete? Rivals who might engage in hate sex from time to time? Pals who share the same fate and understand it and bond over it? Pick your poison and roll with it, because it's delicious either way. I'm personally team "They hate each other" because it's more fun that way 😉 (Almost nothing here again, which is a shame, but again understandable. I had forgotten they shared 2 lines of dialogue together in the show, I deadass thought they never talked to each other, which was great for me lol. Here's one fic written by the same person who wrote the KinnPete one, in case you'd like something cool to read.) -> TayPete? This one's for pure aesthetic reasons because have you seen Tay, have you seen Tay at the auction, have you imagined Pete and Tay fucking at the auction, because I surely have 🙂 It's such a gorgeous image, I lose focus for a hot minute when it comes to me. (This one's tricky, because most people write Vegas/Pete/Tay, which is a glorious choice and I support it, and my talented friend is writing a very good VPT fic, but I'd love it if there were more fics that focus on these two only. They're too powerful, I can't get enough.) I think those are all the ones I'm personally obsessed with. All I have to say is, Pete deserves all the beautiful men and what they'd like to do with him ❤️

[miryum]

Foundling Villa- Epilogue

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster @chonkybonky @eau-rougee @champomiel @justyouraverageeverydaysimp @multifandom-loser @atlanticowe

We’re here!!!! Thank you so much to everyone who was so sweet and supportive and I love you all so much!! Finally have time to work on all the requests y’all sent in!

Warnings: perfect fluff

ao3 link  

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, cherié,” Charles grinned cheekily. “I’m not.”

“But didn’t we already do that?” Your hands were pressed to your chest in surprise. 

Charles laughed from his place on one knee. He held a ring box with a beautiful stone surrounded by tiny, intricate diamonds. The stone glimmered in the light and you recognized it as your favourite. “I know, but I want to do it properly this time. I want it to be a happy time, now that war has come and gone from our doorstep. I want the vows to be meaningful. I want to kiss you well. I want to dance with you for the first time again and spin you around and look at you with love. I want people to toast us and not talk about treaties and prosperity. I want them to talk of love and happiness. I want to redo our wedding night.” You laughed softly at that, melting at his words. “I want to marry you again. What do you say?”

“Of course, Charlie.”

Charles leaped up and spun you around. He pressed a messy kiss to your lips. “Really?”

“Charles Leclerc,” he set you down and you cupped his face, saying, “I love you. I will marry you a thousand times over if it means I prove it to you.” Charles grinned, kissing you again, and slid the ring on your finger. “It’s beautiful, Charlie,” you gasped.

“Only the best for my cherié.”

**

“I promise to stay by your side, hold you close, and never leave you. I will be with you in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty, in pain and in pleasure,” the guests chuckled at that and you're pretty sure you heard Pierre’s loud groan. Daniel’s laugh echoed above the crowd. Max rolled his eyes. Charles smirked and continued, “Y/n L/n, I grew to love you and every day, my love for you grows. By the end of our long, love-filled lives, I’m sure my heart will give out from how much I love you. You may be Enza’s beloved princess, but you’ll always be my queen.” He ended his vows with a kiss on the forehead. 

You huffed playfully and rolled your eyes. “I don’t know how to follow that.” You rested your forehead on his and Charles’ smirk fell away into a deep, loving smile. “But our journey has had many ups and downs but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Cause it led me to you.” 

Ralph yelled out, “Cheesy!” You stuck out your tongue in his direction. The crowd laughed.

“I think I’ve already proved to you that I love you and will stay by your side no matter what plagues the land or our relationship. But I promise to stay by your side for the future as well. I have so much love for you that it’s hard to express. I love your compassion and your humour. I love your intelligence and your empathy. I love your family,” Arthur let out a whoop at that. “And you’re not bad-looking, either.” Charles raised a brow and pouted and you didn’t think you could smile any wider. “You have stood by me even when I didn’t want anyone in the same room. You’ve listened when no one else did and gave me confidence when I doubted myself. Charles Leclerc, you are the best man I could’ve asked to spend my life with and I’m so glad you are bound to me by law so you can’t run away.” 

“I would never,” Charles snorted quietly.

“Mmhm. Sure.” You look at him sceptically. Charles dove in for a kiss but the priest muttered something and pushed him back. 

“Can we just say ‘I do’?” Charles whined. “I want to kiss my wife.”

The priest, having had to put up with the Leclerc brothers for a long time, sighed and continued the ceremony that was happening in the Foundling Villa gardens. After hurried ‘I do’s, Charles dipped you low and whispered a, “Hi,” before kissing you passionately. The guests clapped and cheered at the display and you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. 

“Get a room!” Brenda shouted out and Charles broke away to shout back, “Later, we will!” The L/n and Leclerc siblings groaned, disgusted at the thought.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure I love you more.”

[cogaytes]

i know it's not directed at me, but my conversation starter is that i personally find fandom as a place for anyone and everyone. i think my genuine confusion for the discourse is that the age limit to use ao3 is 13, and that most of these works in question are properly tagged as well. (if they aren't then that's an entirely different conversation.)

oh and also that teenagers have sex?

if you don't wanna see it that's never a huge problem! of course you should stay within your comfort zone and avoid things that make you feel uncomfortable (especially if you're on the younger age of the spectrum of minors on these websites!)

but arguing that smut shouldn't exist is something i've never truly understood. Sexuality is something that people (yes that includes young people) can and should explore if they want to. Writing and consuming it in fandom is a way for many older teenagers and young adults to do that in a safe and healthy way.

Especially when it is those things like rape and non-con stuff--shouldn't we be relieved that instead of causing harm to others, people are just using their creativity to write about it?

Tumblr has always been the Gay People Site™, and to me and my expression of both my gender and sexuality, sex is a huge part of that. People have sex! Teenagers have sex! Some people even like to read and write about it!

Unfortunately for a lot of people, their self expression is not socially accepted as the norm, and they can--and may already have--faced disgust and discrimination for their private interests. Sites like Archive of our Own and Tumblr were made for the freedom of self expression and exploring personal interests in an anonymous way, especially those that may be considered taboo.

Will you find me reading incest fics? Probably not, that's not my cup of tea. But I won't complain either, because I know that it may be that for the author and some other people. As long as a fic is properly tagged, I personally do not have issue with content as long as it does not cause mental or physical harm to other (real world) people.

These are fictional characters, and I truly believe that censoring authors and artists just because what they're creating is considered problematic or even just openly disobeys what is widely accepted as the norm is silly and reductive of what we've been fighting for for decades. Humans are sexual beings with sexual minds, and in our modern age we use our thoughts to write whatever we feel like. Sometimes that happens to be sex!

It may be uncomfortable, and may not be for you, but the existence of fanfiction as a whole can open up more understanding for people who are looking for connection, not just connection that you yourself deem "acceptable."

Sex is not something that's impure nor dirty, it is inherently human. It's personal and intimate, but it is not wrong.

this ask is mostly applied to what i've found in kotlc as a fandom, but my inbox is open anytime if you (or anyone who may read this) wants me to expand more on fandom spaces as a whole. i have more thoughts on real world people and a lot of other topics, but i tried to keep it to just what applied to keeper. (trying not to write an entire essay in yours haha.)

i'm aware that i may have a more lenient view on this than most as well, so i'd love to hear your thoughts <3

yeah no i agree basically with all of this! it's something i've been really grappling with over the last few years (especially recently as a ship i really find uncomfortable has become big in some of my circles of mutuals, which has been interesting to see how i thought about it when it was first a thing 3ish years ago and how my reactions have changed now). i think as i grew up i just stopped almost. caring about what other people make? like i just. filter shit out on ao3 and on tumblr and scroll past shit i don't want to see. i unfollow or block if it really becomes an issue.

but personally i just really don't like the idea of any art being given a moral value, even when it portrays topics we really don't want to think about or might feel uncomfortable with. like, my parents wouldn't let me read the hunger games until i was a certain age because the mass child death etc were just so fucking horrifying that they didn't want me exposed to it. and even reading it as an adult i'm like. okay. holy fuck. but that doesn't mean it's immoral or gross or disgusting just because it portrays fucked up things as fiction. and it definitely doesn't say anything about the author that she wrote it.

you don't have to read smut if you're not comfortable with it! you're allowed to be made uncomfortable by sex! but as long as it's properly warned for so you can avoid it, that doesn't mean it shouldn't be allowed to exist.

[hodakcangetit]

down where the devil delights part 6: Dirty and Domestic- a Hodak/reader fic

Fic Summary: Reader/Hodak fic. Reader is an Angel with the Townsend Agency who has a chance encounter with Hodak on a solo mission that leads to more than the Reader bargained for. There’s tension and intrigue, dancing and fighting,  the growth that comes with figuring out where you belong, but most importantly there’s Hodak being his sexy, deadly self and a hearty amount of smut sprinkled throughout.

Chapter summary: You finally get Hodak all alone to reunite properly. Reader adjusts to life with Hodak.

Part: 6/?

Word Count: 4,686

Rated: M

Tagged by request:  @dantakuart @krapivaaa-universe @littlegangrel @whatafuckinnerd @starlightshowdown @Ilovefandomsandshit-blog @itsoneofusworld @kissingvalentino @lelumi @originaltimetravelcloud @loveforminato

(some of these didn’t tag properly but i couldn't fix it. As always, if you want to be added to the list, just let me know)

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 | Read on Ao3

Author’s Note: …can y’all believe I’m back? Yeah me either!

The original plan had this chapter start differently but given how long it’s been I thought we could all use some good old fashioned Hodak smut to kick things off. It also fit with where the last chapter ended. Y/N and Hodak finally can be alone together so it’s time to bang. 

Thank you to every single one of you who reviewed these last….. Uh is it 3 years? Yikes. This chapter wouldn’t be here without you. You all are the best. Now enjoy, y’all earned it and certainly waited long enough.

Happy belated Valentine's Day from me and Hodak!

Previously:  “Lead the way,” he said simply. The way he said it and the way he gripped your hand securely and confidently, told you what you already knew- that he would follow you anywhere. It had been one roller-coaster of an evening with the most exquisite highs and nerve-wracking lows. But thinking of the ecstasy Hodak had shown you at the opera and the debauchery that was no doubt to come by the time the night was over, you couldn’t regret it. Perhaps by the standards of the Angels, you’d fallen from grace, but, with Hodak by your side, it felt an awful lot like flying.

Half of your clothes were off by the time you’d entered your apartment. His button-up clumsily falling as you slammed the front door behind you in your need. You had no idea if your own shirt was in the car or the elevator with his vest or where his jacket was but this was a secure building and you’d been waiting for far too long to be alone with Hodak. You’d used all your self control to complete the mission and to not ride him in the opera box. All bets were off once you turned onto your street.

He was always one for control but there was a wildness in the way he kissed you now. How he eagerly kissed your lips, your cheek before moving to your neck. You had dreamt of him, longed for him but your memory had failed to capture the way it felt when his mouth reached your pulse point.

You gasped and pawed at him. You needed him. All of him. Now.

As the two of you shuffled into your entryway, you knew you couldn’t hold out til the bedroom and steered him to the kitchen instead, your hands grasping at his fly as you did.

In your previous encounters, Hodak was often the driving force, the one at the reins and you’d always liked the way he drove, but you appreciated that just this once he followed your lead until you were beside the island. You pulled back to catch your breath and to try to put more focus in your hands to get his damn pants off. He took the hint and helped you, shucking off his pants and kicking them out of the way. Before you could think he had his hands on your hips and was hoisting you up onto the counter.

You started to reach down to try to shimmy your own pants off but he stilled your hands and instead grabbed the material and ripped them. You gasped and had to clench your pussy from the wetness that flooded there. He continued to tug and pull at what were your pants until basically all of your underwear was exposed. He wasn’t done though.

With one hand he grabbed along the waistband of your panties and with the other, he reached out on the far side of the island and grabbed a knife from the block. You stilled. If this was anyone else, you would headbutt him and take the knife- but this was Hodak. You knew to your core that he would never hurt you (unless you asked him nicely to) so instead you were curious and God just so unreasonably turned on. All this time later and it still staggered you just how much this incredible man affected you.

Hodak met your eyes, as if to check that you were okay with this and to silently ask if you trusted him. You nodded once, ready for whatever he had up his sleeve. He gave you a gratified smile and then returned his attention to the task at hand. Deftly, he took the knife to the thinnest part of your underwear- where the front met the back and just above your thigh and sliced through and then did the same to the material above your other thigh- like he was unwrapping a present. Your panties cleaved, you lifted up gently and he pulled off what remained of your underwear and threw the shreds aside.

Just when you didn’t think you could be more horny for this man, he brought the blade up between your breasts and cut the delicate fabric of your bra right between them. Satisfied, he threw the knife so it embedded in your wall, and then your bra so it landed on the protruding knife. Like the world's most dangerous and horny wall art.

Okay, that was it, you couldn’t take anymore preamble, you reached forward and grabbed him by his lapel and pulled him forward so you were mere inches from him, “Hodak, I Need you to fuck me. Right Now.”

He pushed his luck by kissing you hard but then he acquiesced by rocking you back so you were fully laying with your back on the kitchen island, legs splayed around him. All you had left was the torn legs of your pants still on but you didn’t care- the only article of clothing currently bothering you were his boxers which you made clear by shooting them a glare.

Hodak smirked at you before removing the offending garment. Once his thick and noticeably hard cock was free he wasted no time before he came to stand fully between your legs and grabbed your hips once more to pull you closer. Of course not as close as you needed but there was always a method to his madness and it was usually worth the wait. 

You wanted to be patient but you’d already been waiting so long. You wrapped your legs around him and met his eyes, saw the hunger there and knew he needed you just as much as you needed him. Thank fuck.

He took just enough time to line himself up and then he was plunging into you in one strong thrust taking advantage of how wet you already were. You screamed in pleasure, then, just as you were taking a breath, he pulled all the way out and did it again, nearly knocking all the air from your lungs. But he didn’t stop, instead he reached forward and gripped onto your neck with one hand and positioned the other at your hips as he repeated the thrust.

“Fuck!” you yelled and then with one more powerful plunge he settled into the most punishing and satisfying rhythm of your life. There was no timidness at all, instead all thundering pounding thrusts and hands gripping hard enough to leave a mark. It was exactly what you wanted, what you needed, what you’d been needing for so long, even before you’d met him. You could do nothing but lay there and take it.

When you didn’t think that coil within you could get any tighter he shifted again to hit that spot within you, making you scream, “God, Hodak!”

Then the hand on your hip shifted and those beautiful, devilish fingers found your clit and you lost all control on your vocal chords. His fingers rubbing their demanding circles while he pounded his dick harder and harder in you as that feeling within you grew and grew until you finally broke, shaking around him. 

“Fuck” he yelled, and came inside you. Then he was partially on top of you on your kitchen island and you honestly don’t think you could have moved if your life depended on it. He rolled over to lay beside you and when you’d recovered you laughed and looked at him, “I’m so hungry, but I’m too tired to move.”

He smiled and then sat up, clearly not as worn out as you. “Yeah, I could eat.”

 He stood up and looked back at you and you expected him to extend a hand to you to help you up, but you should have known by now that Hodak is not a man to ever do what you expect. Instead, while maintaining eye contact with you he slowly sank to his knees, his face still visible and his hands reached for you again, grabbing your hips, pulling you into place. He kept your gaze, waiting for you to say no, but even though you knew you were gonna be swollen and sore tomorrow, you had no capacity to say no to him tonight. Instead you moved as he nudged and gently eased yourself up on your elbows as his hands found your thighs and parted them.

You opened your legs all the way, fully exposing your cunt to him once more, laughed in giddy delirium then said, “Bon appetit.”

His eyes sparkled as he licked his lips and then he dug in.

------

As with any new enterprise, it took a little bit of time for you to find your new rhythm but also somehow, you didn't feel any growing pains as you settled into Bosley’s new shadow network. Bosley always laughed when you called it such but since the network was his idea and it is, in part, thanks to him that you feel so professionally fulfilled you figured he deserved most of the credit.

      Of course, your new operation isn’t the only new change in your life, nor is it the only source of your newfound contentment. 

Hodak was officially one of the most effective members of your network and though still mostly silent with all but you, he was an invaluable member of the team. He was also your new flatmate and both the number one reason why you were so happy these days and the main reason why you sometimes came into work having gotten very little sleep. Not that you were about to complain about that.

After the mission with Dubois, you and Hodak ,(mostly you) had spent the next two days trying to decide whether it was worth it to try to be “professional” or to make any attempt at separating your personal life from your professional one. Then you remembered how spectacularly poorly that had gone with the Townsend Agency and celebrated this realization by fucking Hodak in your office at headquarters.

Then there had been a few weeks of him spending every night you weren’t on mission fucking you all over your apartment. One night, after testing the strength of your new dining table, when discussing him having to swing by his apartment for the 3rd time that week to grab something before work, you finally saw the light.  At last, you mutually agreed that it was stupid that he technically was living somewhere else and thus he moved into your place the next day with very little ceremony or preamble. 

He had perfected the art of traveling lightly and had few personal belongings. The things he did bring with him, you enjoyed learning about slowly and one by one. Hodak would never be a gregarious or loquacious man but when he wanted to tell you something you would listen. You never wanted to press him into being what he wasn’t but you couldn’t help but want to soak up every morsel of him that you could.

On a more platonic front, you had been very pleased when Bosley had first suggested resurrecting your dinners. It was perhaps foolish, considering everything, but a part of you had been concerned that it wouldn’t survive the transition. That it had been the habit of two lonely islands or perhaps a wooing technique of his that had been necessary when you were both still with the Townsend Agency but wouldn’t be necessary outside of it. But then, there Bosley was, spending most evenings still in your company, if not inviting the two of you back to his place then out for drinks or showing up at yours with wine and food.  And you knew now, you weren’t just his favorite agents or just tools for his use. You were friends and partners in all this. 

“So I come in,” Bosley was saying at one such dinner, “convinced I’m going to find Y/N dead or captured only to find him- the largest man i’ve ever met, by the way- laying on the floor weeping with her standing over him, holding a pool cue under his chin. All while her wig is on fire and she just looks up at me, calm as anything, and asks what took me so long. It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

You laugh, loving the comfort of the moment. While you certainly felt a fair amount of stress while it was happening, it was fun to look back and see the story through someone else’s eyes, and more than that through the eyes of a mentor who admires and values you.

Living with Hodak had been one thing that you were still trying to get used to and were still surprised by how little time it took to acclimate to but the first time Bosley showed up at your joint door with a bottle of wine, you’d felt a nervous tightening in your stomach.

You’d been in the kitchen preparing dinner when the knock at the door came and surprised yourself when you froze. You knew it was coming. You might even say an ideal future would involve many more evenings like this, but you still weren’t sure how your easy flow of wine and long talks with John would mesh with the rhythm you were still figuring out with Hodak in the home you shared.

Your hands had stopped mid-action as you tried to not get overwhelmed. It was ridiculous to imagine a simple dinner with your closest  confidants was something that could possibly rattle you or make you nervous given everything else you took on on a daily basis and yet you found your hands shaking slightly. It had taken you so long to reach this happy equilibrium -to find this place of belonging- and you hated the idea of anything happening to change it. Before you could second guess or overthink any further, you felt Hodak’s strong and confident hands at your back as they rose up to gently squeeze your shoulders. You closed your eyes as you felt his breath against your ear and leaned into his reassuring weight.

Of course he was right there right when you needed him, without you even saying a word, he could sense your anxiety and provided comfort just by being there.

Then his steady hands were easing down your arms slowly to rest over your shaking ones that still clutched a knife over the cutting board. Not the knife he used that first night though. That was still embedded in the wall though the bra was discarded over his protests. He leaned in and placed a meaningful kiss on your neck before saying quietly, as he tapped your knife with one of his tattooed fingers, “I’ve got this.”

You let out a deep breath and left the blade on the counter before easing out of his arms to place a quick kiss on his cheek before going to answer the door. If Bosley noticed a delay, he gave nothing away to indicate it and that helped put you at ease even further. 

From there it was easy to get back into how things used to be or at least a new configuration of it. Hodak wrapped up the remaining tasks for the dinner while you poured each of you a glass of wine. Bosley had you distracted with updates on another agent’s mission and before you knew it, Hodak was bringing dinner to the table.

While you ate, Bosley regaled him with stories of the old days. You’d noticed that Hodak didn’t even really talk much around John that much. Maybe a few words here or there if he felt like it but he was much more comfortable to either keep busy by helping with the dinner so you and Bos could talk or just sit and listen. 

Something else that you began to notice is that when Bosley was there he wouldn't always look at you. More often than not he would fix John with his typical attentive stare but his hands, his hands would be on you. Hodak would often rest a hand  on your knee or have an arm draped across your shoulder or just stroking some part of you. With John there, Hodak never pushed things to the point of indecency- that would be disrespectful, and Bosley had, in his own way, earned Hodak’s respect. But you could always feel Hodak’s presence, if not through physical touch than through the weight of his stare. It was a comfort in a way you began to spend many such dinners trying to put your finger on to name.

Sure, it was like having a hand to hold but that was too simple. It was a comfortable feeling. Like wearing a cozy sweater on a cold day and holding a mug of hot tea but it was also a safe feeling, like watching a thundering rainstorm from inside your warm, dry house. It was like being in a foreign country and finding a note on a wall in your language telling you that you aren’t alone. It was having Hodak know what you needed without you having to say it or in fact, even know how to voice it.

There were mornings you’d wake up and see Hodak and his tattoos with his arms around you even in sleep and wonder how you got to this point where you have a home and a job and a man and you get to be happy. You get to have someone you trust and gets you and who fulfills you.

Ever since the opera house, you haven’t gone on a single mission alone. Back at the Agency you would dread the days you’d be partnered up because they always made you feel like a square peg in a round hole. You knew your team would get the job done but you never felt like you belonged. And now that you can call your own shots, where you never would have to be partnered if you didn’t want to, you would never dream of it. 

Hodak was a partner in every sense of the word in that he was an asset and not a liability. It's a comfort to know that you’ll be taken care of. That you’ve got another capable set of hands and eyes and a keen mind too in case you need it. It also doesn’t hurt that you can now release any pent up pre-mission energy with the perfect match who knows exactly how to handle you and you don’t have to waste your evenings in bars anymore ruling out unlikelies anymore.

Weeks passed and you found yourself comfortable. You and Hodak had routines. You didn’t have to be with each other every second of every day but you liked to be close. Most evenings you would end up in your office at your place but you never shut the door, you liked to leave it open so you could see Hodak in the living room or wherever else he might be. Sometimes you might hear him grunting as he worked out in your home gym and when the sounds were too distracting you’d go and invite him for a different kind of work out.

-

One typical evening, you were at your desk, going through and cataloging some past missions when you got a call from Bosley. He was of the generation that preferred calls to texts but normally he just sent new missions and updates that way as he knew it was your preference. A phone call normally meant complicated. 

You picked up immediately and leaned back, “Hey Bos, what’s up?”

Hodak was in the living room cleaning his guns to your right, and, at your voice, the assassin stopped his work and looked up.

“Evening dear,” Bosley said, there was something off in his voice you couldn’t place. Hodak stood and made his way to stand behind you, one hand rubbing lazy circles on your back. You put the call on speaker as Bos continued, “I’ve got an update on the Ouroboros Society situation.”

You paused, this wasn’t going to be good. Ouroboros Society had been a thorn in your network’s side the last while. Their members had orchestrated one of the biggest hacks this side of the Atlantic Ocean and were sitting on a treasure trove of invaluable intel that they were using to blackmail and power play their way across Europe. They had threatened a number of your contacts and allies and the bribes they were asking for just wasn't feasible in the long run. 

You thought their logo of a snake eating its own tail was appropriate but their organization was more like a hedonistic collective of snakes just as likely to poison you as to turn on each other. Each member was vicious and you had no idea how they'd managed to agree on anything to form such a group. It made wading in and getting what you need a particularly challenging gordian knot. 

After thorough research and a few well placed bribes, Bosley had figured out that Ouroboros had encrypted their trove in a singular location but that in order to access it they would need the keys, the codes and biometrics of 3 of the members. Two had already been obtained and, as far as they knew, undetected but last night was supposed to have been the mission for a third- a hacker named Lange. If Bosley was calling, it couldn’t have gone well.

“You’ve got both of us, go ahead.” You answered.

You could have sworn you heard him sigh before John continued, “Well last night was an utter failure.”

You looked to Hodak, he clearly expected this as well.

“What happened?”

“Lange got spooked and hit a kill switch. Fried his whole mainframe and exploded his bunker.” Bosley muttered bitterly.

“Is the team okay?” You ask immediately.

“Irina got some burns but Andre got her out before anything too bad. She’s going to be out of commission for a while though.” Bosley reported.

“Well fuck.” You said, “Do you think Ouroboros knows? Is the whole op scrapped?”

“I don’t think so. Lange was the recluse of the society and he died in the explosion. They don’t always check in but, still, it means we have to act quickly before anyone else finds out they might be compromised.”

“How?” You frowned, “Lange was the last viable keyholder. Everyone else is too high profile or well protected.”

There was a suspicious pause and the wheels began to turn as you started to suspect what John was about to say, “We have an opening to get to Aleksander Jormungand.”

“Jormungand,” you repeated, “Bos, that’s not a keyholder, that’s the leader of the Society itself. There’s no way to get to him quietly.”

“It’s not ideal but we believe we have an opportunity. He’s hosting a gala this weekend at his estate. The man is paranoid with impeccable security but he has a flair for pageantry and he does have weaknesses.”

It wasn’t the ideal scenario but your team had extracted from worse, and few weaknesses didn’t mean zero. Bosley had figured something out, he was just hesitant and gave the impression that he wanted your permission before he put his plan into action.

“You found his Achilles heel,” You stated this as fact.

You definitely heard a sigh this time, “Women. Aleksander has garnered a reputation as a lothario and he’s just dumped his latest conquest.”

The way he said conquest told you how Jormungand treated women and that it wasn’t likely to be kind. You didn’t linger on that and charged ahead, “So we need to pull a Romeo and Black Widow job. We’ve pulled this before both at the Agency and with the sheik last month.”

“Yes,” Bos agreed but was hesitant again, “But Irina was our Black Widow last time and given her injuries I’d be hesitant to put her into the field so soon.”

Oh. Now you knew why Bos came to you and why he didn’t seem happy about it. “But I’ve done it before too.”

Hodak stiffened. You didn't want to look at him for the first time you could remember. You didn't like anything about this situation. You didn’t like that Bosley knew he had to ask you but didn’t want to. You didn’t like how Hodak would likely feel watching you fulfill your duty. But most of all, you didn’t like that you didn’t see another option.

Not all of your assignments were walks in the park, but this would be different. You couldn’t be side by side with Hodak, in and out. This job would likely be unpleasant and neither of you would have a good time but you were pretty sure that Hodak would have a worse time than you. 

You couldn’t put it off any  longer and looked up. Hodak met your eyes instantly, like he’d been waiting and as always, there was so much you could see in his gaze. He hated this idea. He hated the idea of you putting yourself in the arms of another man who wouldn't treat you well even for a job. He was scared for you and very much against it but… but he trusted you. He believed in you. He didn't want to make this choice for you, he just didn't want you to have to make it.

His hand had stilled on your back but you reached up and held it, squeezing it once. He squeezed back and held tight.

There was silence on the other end of the phone, Bosley knew this was a big deal which was why he didn’t outright ask you. He knew you would do it if you asked and he didn’t want you to feel you had to. The last time you’d pulled this job felt like decades ago even though it was probably only eighteen months ago. You were a different person now, in a different place entirely and in a relationship. 

You looked back to Hodak, unsure. You could say no. You could let this opportunity go, lose this chance but that didn’t sit right with you. You wanted to best Aleksander. Wanted to deal him a blow and walk away the victor. You wanted to prove you could still get this done. You wanted Hodak to trust that if you said you could do this, you could do it. And if he was in the wings, you knew you could. Hodak kept his gaze locked on yours and he saw all you didn’t say. Saw your conviction and determination and fire and it calmed him. His hand squeezed yours then he eased his grip.

You knew he understood, you knew he would stand beside you no matter what you chose. You squeezed back and he spoke up for the first time, answering Bosley’s unasked question, giving you extra assurance, “She can do it.”

Bosley paused, “If you’re sure…”

Your eyes were still on Hodak’s when you replied, knowing you spoke for both of you, “I am. We can do this.”

“I know you can,” John said, his own fondness and faith slipping through the phone like a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll send the details tonight and you’ll leave tomorrow. The operation may take a few days but we’ll have to move swiftly to embed you in while there’s still a vacancy.”

“Got it. Don’t worry Bosley, I won’t let you down.”

“You never have, Y/N. Good night, rest well.” he said as he disconnected.

You put your phone down and turned your chair around to face Hodak properly. He was still stiff. Hodak was clearly determined to back your play but this whole plan had him unsettled. You knew he wouldn’t be at ease until you got through this so there wasn’t anything you could say that would comfort him tonight.

You stood and wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to hold him close, “Take me to bed, Hodak. Trouble will keep until tomorrow.”

There was still that flicker in his eyes like a storm on the horizon but he shuttered it away and graced you with a lazy smile. It lacked the easy nature it normally had, but it was what it was, “Yes ma’am.”

Then the space between you was a memory and his mouth was claiming your lips, his tongue soon plunging inside. He was always hungry for you but there was an edge to it tonight that you leaned into.

Pretending to be some jackass’s plaything was never an easy or fun job but tonight it was just you and Hodak and that was all you needed.

Author’s Note: I know this wasn’t the longest chapter but i thought y’all might give me credit for any content. Besides, I got to tick both boxes of smut and domestic fluff so it made me happy.

If I was smart I would have ended this chapter in a way to end the fic but let's just say I'm stupid and still hooked on Hodak. Besides, this is the only way I can think of to get a fic with Hodak being jealous and seeing all that goes into that. I've waited for years and no one else has done it, so I'm just gonna have to.

Also! A note: I wanted to make sure to point this out after talking with a friend of mine while writing this. Hodak is living with someone he trusts and cares about in a domestic situation he is NOT domesticated. Lord willing if I’m able to get the next chapter out I will be able to illustrate that fully. He is still a dangerous killing machine, he just has someone he would kill for now. Hope that comes across.

In conclusion, if you are reading this, you are incredible and I'm glad you're here. Please comment and review, it's how this fic has survived this long.

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 | Read on Ao3

[mossy-thing]

I posted the second chapter! Read it here or on ao3.

Chapter 1; chapter 3

And why it was Tomorrow came (and with his grey hand led us back)

Chapter 2

Important tags: off screen violence, children in dangerous situations, kidnap fam, murder of orcs (probably. Just don't think too hard on it), implied food rationing

Summary: In which Elrond wakes up, Elros is a little gremlin horder, and I have far too much fun writing their bickering until I remember what my plot was supposed to be.

“What’s going on,” Elrond slurred as he was pulled into a sitting position, still half in the dream, half feeling the sand between his toes, but in a matter of seconds, it was gone. It was loud outside, he realized suddenly, and frowned as he wondered why it hadn’t woken him.

“Get up.”

Maedhros had already moved on to his brother on the other side of the narrow room to shake him before Elrond even had the chance to open his eyes properly, but glancing at him now confirmed that he was wearing his armor. He had been confused, but now he was alarmed, throwing the threadbare blanket back. He felt the cold floor beneath his bare feet before he realized he was standing. “Are we under attack?” 

He reached for his dagger under the pillow, holding onto it tightly just as he had wished he could have in the dream as the noise he could hear fell into place. Shouting. Marching. It was still a bit away, but he was sure that whoever they were, they would reach their little tower soon. Had a light alarmed them of their presence? He hoped they were only orcs.

“Yes. Put on your shoes, and a coat. There’s no time for anything else.”

When Elrond and Elros had been younger, Elrond remembered numbly while stepping into his shoes, they had sometimes wondered what it would be like to be attacked by other elves. To be stolen back, and brought to some distant kinsmen, who would raise them far away from battles and wars, dragons and kinslayers. They had told each other stories without uttering a single word, staring into the other’s eyes under a shared blanket. Elros was reaching out to him now, like that, as soon as he woke up, and for a moment, Elrond saw Maedhros’ grim eyes in place of the clasp of the cloak he was struggling to close with one hand.

Maedhros left the room. He was probably standing in front of the door, his sword drawn, guarding the children his brother was so fond of until they were ready to be hidden away safely. Maglor would be outside, then, preparing himself to fight. Elrond hoped whatever little place Maedhros would find to lock them in until danger had passed would be soundproof enough that Maglors singing wouldn’t be ringing in his ears for days like it had done in their last shelter. 

Elros took his hand when he had fastened his own cloak, and they knocked at the door. Maedhros opened it and left without throwing even a glance their way. They followed him, taking three steps for one of his. 

At least he isn’t throwing us over his shoulders anymore, Elros thought, shooting him a tired smile, and Elrond smiled back. Luckily, they had grown big enough some time ago that Maedhros had the excuse not to carry them anymore. He didn’t like touching them, nearly anyone, really, Elrond knew, and he and his twin didn’t either. It brought back uncomfortable memories that neither of them could quite recall anymore. 

“In there,” Maedhros huffed, shoved them into a closet and shut the door. For a moment, they could hear him pulling things across the floor to barricade the door with, then, after shoving twice at whatever he had used to lock them in and everything else out, the sound of his footsteps grew quieter, and eventually disappeared entirely. Outside, the noise drew closer. 

They sat together in the dark, holding hands and barely daring to breathe. 

Do you want bread? Elros eventually asked through ósanwe, just before the first tell tale clanging of metal on metal rang from outside their little hiding place, and Elrond startled. 

Where did you get bread?

It’s old. He thought his twin might be smiling, and he anxiously listened to the rustle of fabric as Elros presumably pulled a bundle from a pocket in his coat, not letting go of his hand. Do you remember the group of Avari we passed a while ago? The ones who kept trying to sell us stuff?

Elrond blinked. But that was a month ago! You spent money on bread and then didn’t tell anyone because you were keeping it in your coat for a whole month? Maedhros would kill him, if he found out. Or, well, he would not speak to him for a very long time. Well, speak to him less.

You kept complaining you were hungry last time!

There is no way that thing is still edible. He almost felt like laughing, but the sound died before the thought of it could be wholly formed when a sharp wail rang from outside. They held their breath, until Elros thought, I don’t think that was an elf, and Elrond nodded. He swallowed. 

We could just keep it in our mouths for a really long time, Elros thought, bringing them back to their conversation. Let the spit make it soft and stuff. 

You are so gross. 

You’re gross! 

Elrond smiled. I got my dagger, he told Elros. If you want to share it. 

Elros carefully pushed a very solid shape into his free hand, and Elrond tried to look at it. It was so dark he could hardly see anything, but what he did see looked very much like a stone, and felt about the same. He knocked it against the floor of their cramped closet, and it made a noise that was loud enough that they held their breaths, listening for any threat that might have made it inside, past the two Fëanorians, a threat that might be alarmed of their presence. 

But they heard nothing but the clashing of swords and the screaming of curses. 

What did you do that for, Elros shot at him, in the very same moment Elrond thought, And you are really sure this is not just a stone you found?

Elros huffed. Why don’t you try it, if you’re so convinced you’ll break your teeth on it? I swear, I do one nice thing for you… 

Elrond ignored his brother’s mumbling and awkwardly moved his legs to make room to work on the ground, placed his dagger on the bread-stone and started dragging it carefully across its surface. It made an uncomfortably loud sound.

I dreamt of the Cottage, he thought, suddenly remembering it, and added, before Maedhros woke us. 

Was that girl with the red twintails there? Elros asked without missing a heartbeat. Because I did ask you to throw a stone at her if you saw her when I wasn’t there – 

I didn’t exactly make it all the way to the cottage. Elrond chose to ignore the feud his twin had with a Nandorian child, something that had started because of a doll in a tree and worked itself up into a small war his twin kept trying to involve him in. I got… held up at the beach.

Held up? Elros repeated, a confused tone to his thought. By what? 

Elrond frowned. You know how there are others there too? The ones who don’t see us?

Elros grinned. Yes. Do you remember that time we spelled out Ulmo’s wrath lies upon ye in the sand and scared those Vanyar half to death? 

Elrond frowned. You mean, that time you scared those Vanyar half to death. I didn’t do anything.

That’s because you’re boring! Elros shuffled in the dark and adjusted his hold on Elrond’s hand, pulling him closer. How’s the bread coming along? I’m hungry.

And I am working on it. He was already half way through the once-soft piece of bread, but stopped his steady sawing for a moment to think. One of the elves there saw me. 

It was quiet for a while. Elrond continued sawing away at the bread and Elros was staring at him in mute confusion. Even the battle outside had seemed to have halted its bloodthirsty fury, as if the entire world had pecked up their ears, was leaning in, listening. Elrond found he did not like that idea at all. 

Elros made a little sound, a hesitant “Huh,” before thinking, carefully, That is very odd. 

The noise outside resumed and Elrond put the knife aside to try and break the bread the rest of the way over his knee.

He failed. 

What did she look like?

I didn’t say they were a woman.

Elros was quiet. 

Elros?

Just a hunch. 

It almost seemed like he wanted to add something, but then a high tone finally shook the foundations of the tower, haunting and terribly loud, and in the attempt to shield it out and stop the sudden urge to levitate that had come over their bodies, they both forgot their conversation entirely. They were sitting in silence again when a very relieved Maglor opened the door and pulled them into his arms. After he let them go after a long while, a cut on his arm had closed entirely, not even leaving a scar behind, but he did not seem to notice.

They did not get to try the bread that night, but at least it was cut now.

[jascurka]

this is purely out of curiosity and i don't want to send hate your way, but do you ship mob and reigen? and if so, why?

I do, yeah. An ex-friend of mine asked me the exact same question (just more... harshly I think and with what I assumed was prejudice) before they decided to part our ways and I could never properly answer them because I was so stressed by the situation, it was hard to gather my thoughts. So I'll do my best to explain here, hopefully to make myself understood better.

Sorry if this gets lenghty >_< I'll just put a readmore right here.

I think the biggest reason for why I like them is their canon relationship that has been explored in the series already quite thoroughly - that they have changed eachother, helped eachother grow and one wouldn't be the person they are without the other. I think most of us understand the depth of it. Reigen is Mob's teacher and friend, someone like an older brother. There surely is a strong bond between them and they've seen each other at their best and worst and still acknowledged and accepted eachother's flaws. They trust eachother, they would give their life for eachother even (at least Reigen would, he almost did in the finale after all). And I do think that they love eachother but in a way that isn't actually romantic in canon. I'm perfectly capable of realizing that and I value it a lot both in the series and in fanworks (one of my fav works of fanfiction is about exactly that).

It was my curiosity that made me search up a ship fic of them, I was just confused why people ship them in the first place and whether it can be good and I found myself enjoying it a lot (to my surprise). It was set into the future, and dealt with some serious topics like loss and acceptance, it was kind of bittersweet. Then I felt that maybe it was just slightly ooc because all of the serirei fics I was busy reading depicted Reigen slightly different. Nontheless, I had the other ship on my mind then so I never really dived into Mob/Reigen, but it changed my perspective on them a lot.

And at some point into all this I realized, why not? Why can't I haz 2 cookies? (god im sorry that was terrible sfjgsdkj). What I mean is that the buildup canon offers can be taken further - more of their relationship can be explored in terms of new tropes, sometimes romantic too.

On a personal note I'll just add that I'm rather picky about them and tend to stick to fluff, hurt/comfort and slow slow burns. And I like them most post-canon, a few years into the future. It turns out that it all depends on how they're portrayed for me to like them anyways. I talked on here recently about a work that really had it all and portrayed their relationship in a very satisfying and mature way, with all the complicated feelings, it felt very realistic, especially on Reigen's side. So if anyone wants, here's a rec from me again -> in my dreams (I seem to be more honest) on ao3, just because I think it has all that I like about the ship.

I think that this is the whole point of fanworks - to kind of look further and have fun with it, to see "what if?". Even if it's something sort of.. taboo I guess? Because you get to take it apart in a fictional dimension (if that makes sense). And I completely understand if this is something that can ick some people out or that someone doesn't want to ruin their perception of the characters' relationship. That's totally fine by me and I'm not going to force anyone into liking the ship of course. And there are definitely tropes and tags I really don't want to look into - not everything is for me either.

And I think this goes without saying but I'll add it here anyways: what I like to see in fiction doesn't mean I would like or encourage anyone to do the same thing in real life! It's just interesting to explore from a safe distance where no one can get hurt.

[nomercytonight]

Pathetic -Changlix smut

Summary: Changbin calls Felix over to his room to get off.

Words: 768

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairing: Seo Changbin + Lee Felix (Stray Kids)

Warnings: Dubious consent, blowjob, verbal degradation, under-negotiated (!), rough oral

More Tags: Dom!Changbin, Sub!Felix, college au, roommate au, Changbin tells Felix what to do and he complies, bed humping, cumming in pants, free use -ish

Part 2 of a series (here's Part 1) but can be read as a standalone smut one shot (though I recommend starting at 1).

Notes: probably the least spectacular part of this series (somewhat of a lead-up to Part 3) but I love this either way, I'm just so obsessed with this dynamic. Thank you so so much to those supporting Part 1, it means a lot!

Cross-posted on AO3, do not translate or repost anywhere.

-

Changbin was laying on his bed when he decided to shoot felix a text.

Are you busy?

- Not really

Come to my room

Not long after, there was a knock on Changbin's door.

"Come in"

Felix entered the room, his wide eyes proof that he was unsure of what was happening.

"Close the blinds"

Felix did so without question, then looked at Changbin again, confused.

"I want you to suck me off again."

Felix didn't react for a moment, letting the words sink in. Then, he moved into motion without asking any other questions.

He climbed onto the bed settling between Changbin's legs and put his hands on Changbin's thighs. He looked up at the other for confirmation before letting his hands inch up until he could pull down Changbin's sweatpants. He got rid of his pants and underwear in one go, not wasting any time.

Changbin was already standing proud and tall, courtesy of him already touching himself before he realized he could call Felix.

Felix leaned down, letting spit drip onto the older's length without breaking eye contact.

Then, he decided to stick out his tongue, liking him from the base to the head.

Changbin groaned, relieved at the contact.

He threw his head back, only focusing on the feeling of the younger's mouth now enveloping him.

Felix moved slowly, taking his time each time he moved up, always giving the tip more attention before he inched back down. After a while, Felix decided it was no longer enough, moving quicker.

Changbin hadn't realized how he was tightly squeezing his eyes shut until he was made to open them in surprise. Felix, his mouth never leaving Changbin, had taken it upon himself to grab Changbin's hand and lay it on top of his moving head.

When Changbin looked down at Felix, he couldn't help but buck his hips up at the sight. Felix, laying on his stomach so he could properly take in Changbin, was desperately moving up and down Changbin's shaft, looking up at him with begging eyes. Changbin rolled his eyes.

"Desperate slut" he mumbled and by the way Felix's eyes fluttered, he assumed the younger had heard his muttering.

Changbin grabbed a bundle of hair and began pushing and pulling him up and down, guiding the pace. When Changbin pushed him further down than he had went before, Felix left out a sound of surprise which in turn caused Changbin to buck up in pleasure. Changbin decided he was ready to chase his finish, moving Felix's head while snapping his hips up at a rapid speed. Felix let it happen, his low moans only adding to the pleasure the other was feeling. What surprised Changbin was when he noticed the other male's hips moving as well, grinding against the mattress while sucking Changbin off.

Changbin chuckled breathlessly.

"Really? Humping the bed?"

Felix scrunched his eyes shut in shame, though he never ceased his movements.

"You should really be embarrassed by how much of an easy whore you are."

Changbin could feel himself getting close, roughly thrusting into Felix's pliant mouth as he continued his verbal degradation which only moved him closer towards his orgasm.

"You're just my personal fucktoy that I can get off on whenever I want to. Bet I wouldn't even have to use words next time, I can just start using you however I want and you'd be happy to do it. Look at you, getting off on a fact that you're finally being treated like the slut you are."

Felix moaned, the vibration making Changbin shudder.

The words "Keep it in your mouth" were the only warning Felix got before Changbin released into his mouth, uncaring about how harshly he was gripping the younger's hair in the moment. He pulled out when he was finished, sitting up so he could grab Felix's chin and properly look at him.

"Show me"

Felix opened his mouth, searching Changbin's eyes for a reaction. The older smirked. "Swallow."

Of course, Felix did without questioning.

Changbin suspiciously looked the younger up and down.

"Did you finish?" Felix looked away, blush forming on his cheeks but he didn't answer.

"I asked you a fucking question", Changbin raised his voice. He took matters into his own hands, pushing Felix up into a sitting position and shoving his hands down his underwear where he could feel the sticky substance under his fingertips. He scooped some up with two fingers, then lifted them to show to Felix.

"That's so pathetic" he spat, wiping his fingers on Felix's cheek.

"Next time, I'm gonna fuck your ass, so be ready."

--

Part 3

[randomfoggytiger]

"Creating This Whole Scenario to Fulfill a Dream"

Part of the evolving Bill Scully POV series (on Ao3, or Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, and Part VI.)

*****

He'd crunched the numbers again three weeks after Dana left, nightmares of his sisters' namesakes swallowed up by cold little graves waking him in the darkest hour of the morning.

Tara and Matthew found him at the table later, head in his hands and papers strewn about in anger.

"Bill...." She stopped, drew to his side, wrapped her arm around his shoulder. "We already knew Matthew would be our only miracle."

"One of us was supposed to have a little Melissa," he argued, something to say as her tears dribbled into his hair.

"We could adopt, and--" Tara suggested weakly, stopping short when he grunted violently.

"None of them would have her smile. Or her hair. Or her ways."

"I know, Honey. I know."

*****

Bill stopped asking questions.

On Sundays, he stood before a God that impossibly created human life in under a month. On every fourth Sunday, he stood before the only little Scully girl, reading Sim over and over until his eyes burned.

*****

Tara-- lovely, exhausted, but determined Tara-- shoved Matthew at him and disappeared into the attic the day she hit eight weeks postpartum. Reappearing twenty minutes later sweaty, winded, and just as determined, she lugged Emily Sim's box of belongings in her wake, politely demanding her husband unpack it.

Emily had more drawings than toys. Incomprehensible sketches in crayon or marker or even ink were stacked thickly in unassuming animal folders, one a face, another a misspelled object. Emily, Seven Months or Emily, Age Two decorated the bottom right of most pictures in careful cursive. Bill found he could begrudge her adopted mother this, at least.

There were only two photo albums, despite the misplaced Scully having been an only child; and most photographs were scattered holidays, birthdays, and yet another trip to the hospital.

It was Bill who discovered the tape first, resurrecting Emily Sings Us Her Song from layers of packing like a holy relic. He dragged down Matthew's bassinette and attacked the VHS system with a vengeance. Tara just managed to lay their son down properly when he flipped the remote around and pressed play.

*****

Emily was on her second chorus of "The Mice Ate the Cake While the Rat Was Away" when Bill felt Tara press close. He lifted an arm up, squeezed her closer, and secured her tight to the spot northeast of his heart.

"What is it?" she asked, her hand rubbing circles wherever it flitted and landed. They both knew he was shaking.

"She's--" Bill admitted in relief, "--she's nothing like either of them, Honey. Melissa was watchful and Dana was serious. She's too... solemn."

His wife nodded slowly. "And sad."

They watched Emily pause her drawing, look over her shoulder, and loop the chorus once more.

"And sad."

*****

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic

[que-serra-serra]

[Serennedy] Animal Instincts

Happy spooky season! 🎃 This fic was shamelessly inspired by @kaychen666's Serennedy vampire/werewolf roommate AU. Kay, I hope you like this, your art is an absolute blessing to the fandom ❤️ Rated Explicit | 3.1k words | ao3 link (look here for tags & warnings!)

"Harder! Mierda, do you think I'm made of glass!?"

"No," Leon said evenly. "I think you're made of skin and fur and two centuries of bad decisions."

Luis snarled and thrashed on the bed, but was held firmly in place by Leon's hands pinning his wrists and Leon's hips steadily pounding him into the mattress.

Because even though Luis was a powerful werewolf, he had nothing on the raw strength of a vampire.

"Calm down, you overgrown puppy," Leon chastised.

"Fuck you!" Luis spat. "I'm not your puppy, and you're nothing but a glorified mosquito!"

Leon just rolled his eyes and kept thrusting.

This was how they spent every full moon. Luis was normally very in control of his baser instincts, resembling more a particularly flirty golden retriever than a bloodthirsty wolf. But on the night of full moons, it was a completely different story: Luis became antsy, irritable, and unable to settle down before he'd worked off the energy by hours and hours of either fighting or fucking.

Fortunately, Leon could provide both.

"You can't even fuck me properly!" Luis, apparently, disagreed. "All those muscles just for show, you useless—ah!" 

His sentence cut into a groan as Leon snapped his hips up hard enough to jostle Luis on the bed, his whole body shaking with the intensity of it.

"What was that?" Leon asked smugly, picking up a rough pace of slamming in and out of Luis' now-pliant body. "Cat got your tongue, mutt?"

"Nngh," Luis commented. His head was thrown back against the sheets, eyes closed and his mouth parted enough that his canines peeked out.

Leon mentally translated that to, "Yes, fuck me, right there."

So Leon allowed himself to let loose. He used more of his strength, groaning at the feeling of Luis still so hot and tight around him as he fucked in deeper and harder than before.

"Sí, sí, más duro…!" Luis babbled, clawing at the sheets and clenching around Leon.

Luis' cock was so hard it looked almost painful, bobbing in time with Leon's brutal thrusts and leaking pre-come down the shaft. It would be so easy for Leon to get a hand between them and jerk him to completion, but that wasn't what Luis had asked for.

With a grunt, Leon threw one of Luis' legs up on his shoulder and braced his hands more firmly on the bed, never faltering from his rough pace. The new angle and added leverage made Luis sob from pleasure, and a stream of Spanish expletives and endearments alike fell from his lips as Leon kept going, nailing Luis' prostate over and over until—

Luis jolted and came with a scream, his back arching and his cock shooting untouched into the air. Leon's sheets ripped under his claws but Leon didn't care, too busy watching Luis come undone and feeling his body squeezing tightly around his cock.

Leon rode it out with him, slowly fucking him through the aftershocks and then stilling completely when Luis whined from overstimulation.

Luis took a shuddering breath and sank back down against the sheets. His stomach was covered in his own spend—this was already the third time he'd come tonight—and by all accounts, he should be more than sated.

But Leon could read the signs. Though Luis was unusually quiet, his hands stayed gripping the sheets and a quiet growl escaped between his clenched teeth.

Luis wasn't done yet, and fortunately, neither was Leon.

Leon lowered Luis' leg back down but stayed inside him, then experimentally pulled out and slowly thrust back in. Luis hissed, the feeling probably uncomfortable so soon after coming, but he still bucked up to meet Leon's hips.

Taking that as the permission that it was, Leon quickly worked back up into a steady rhythm, quietly amazed at how much Luis' body could handle. Every slide of Leon's cock into his well-used hole seemed to gradually ease the tension in Luis' body, until his dick was back to full hardness and his quiet growls sounded more like pleased moans.

"There you go," Leon praised. Luis' breath hitched and his ear twitched in interest, so he lowered his voice and murmured, "That's a good boy."

"¡Joder!" Luis protested, even as his face went ruddy and his dick jumped from the praise. "Stop acting like I'm a pet dog!"

"If you're not, why does your tail always wag when I call you a good boy?"

Luis went still, and Leon knew he could hear the rhythmic thump-thump of his tail hitting the mattress even over the harsh slap of skin against skin. Half of Luis' tail remained squished between his back and the bed, but the visible part was very enthusiastically showing Leon how much he enjoyed this.

And then Luis glared at Leon and the wagging stopped, but it was a moot point now; Luis could control his tail if he wanted to, but most of the time it was an unconscious action, like breathing.

"Next time, I'll get someone else to fuck me," Luis groused.

Leon chuckled and reached for Luis' cock. "No, you won't."

"Mierda," Luis cursed, bucking up into Leon's hand. "Make me come again and I'll consider it."

It was an empty threat. Their arrangement just worked too well to jeopardize: Luis needed someone who could hold him down all night during full moons, fucking and arguing until he was finally tired out, while Leon required a willing partner to essentially be his personal blood bank. Conveniently, vampires had more than enough strength and stamina to deal with the full moon frenzy, and werewolves just so happened to have enhanced healing that allowed them quickly bounce back after, say, a vampire feeding from them.

Of course, vampires and werewolves were supposed to hate each other. But Leon and Luis had both been shunned by their own kind—ostracized for wanting to coexist with humans and not hunt them for sport—and though they got on each other's nerves like nothing else, living with Luis was one of the best decisions Leon had ever made. They balanced each other out, fought well together, and Luis was the only person Leon had ever truly considered an equal.

Someone more sentimental might have said it was simply meant to be.

"Leon…" Luis groaned. His claws dug into Leon's back and made him hiss: Leon wasn't pinning his wrists anymore and Luis had apparently taken that as an invitation to maul him.

"Yeah?" Leon asked, ignoring the sharp sting of the scratches. His body would heal them in no time, and he knew Luis needed this.

"Good," Luis simply murmured. "It's good. Don't stop."

"I won't. I've got you," Leon promised.

He squeezed Luis' cock on the downstroke and Luis moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he went pliant under Leon's touch.

It never failed to amaze Leon how fully Luis trusted him. No matter how much they fought or how many insults they threw at each other, somehow they'd always find their way back here: Luis fully handing himself over for Leon to take him apart and put him back together.

"Luis," Leon murmured, thumbing the head of Luis' cock and moaning when it made Luis clench tighter around him. "You feel so good."

Luis whined and threw his head back, exposing the smooth column of his throat, and…

Leon felt the familiar instinct to feed.

Rationally, Leon knew he didn't need to drink yet. He'd done so not even three days ago, and he could easily go a week without. But it was almost a Pavlovian response: each time Leon fed from Luis, it would inevitably end in sex, because Luis was a crazy bastard and actually enjoyed getting brutally bitten and having the blood sucked out of him.

Last time, Leon had bitten and fed from the soft skin of his inner thigh, and Luis had gone lightheaded as all the remaining blood in his body seemingly went to his cock. Once Leon was done feeding and Luis was begging to come, Leon hadn't even bothered wiping his mouth before wrapping his bloody lips around Luis' cock and teasing the tip with his fangs, and Luis had spent himself right then and there.

Leon's mouth watered at the memory. He kept staring at Luis' exposed neck and shoulder; he could see the sweat on the skin, could hear Luis' heart beating frantically in his chest, could imagine exactly how he'd taste…

"Leon?" Luis' uncharacteristically quiet voice snapped him out of it.

Leon met Luis' eyes and saw the red from his own reflected in them. His eyes were glowing bright red with bloodlust and he only now realized his fangs had extended of their own accord, resting heavy against his bottom lip.

Anyone in Luis' position would have been paralyzed from fear, seeing the most dangerous predator on the planet about to attack them. But Luis simply held Leon's gaze and lifted his hand to gently cradle Leon's jaw. 

"Mi príncipe," Luis murmured. "What do you need?"

You, Leon wanted to say. Just you. Always.

Leon swallowed; his throat was so dry, and he wanted…

"I just," Leon rasped, eyes locked on Luis' shoulder. "I know it's only been a few days, but—please, can I…?"

"Of course, corazon." Luis smiled and tilted his head to the side, giving Leon better access. "Bon appetit."

Leon's instincts didn't care about the joke or the pet name: they only cared about being granted permission.

Moving faster than any other creature could, Leon surged down and bit into Luis' shoulder.

Blood roared in Leon's ears and endorphins surged through his entire system. He'd meant to only puncture the skin with his two largest fangs, but as soon as the first flood of Luis' blood hit his tongue, Leon was helpless to do anything but let out an animalistic growl and dig in with all of his teeth in a savage bite.

He distantly registered that Luis was screaming himself hoarse, his claws digging into Leon's scalp and back. His body clenched around Leon's cock and a spurt of warmth landed on Leon's stomach as he came.

Leon groaned long and loud, rocking into Luis' body while his fangs siphoned even more of Luis' delicious blood onto his tongue. He always tasted like smoke and the sun, like laughter and home—

Leon's thrusts stuttered as he abruptly came too, burying himself deep inside Luis and filling him with his release. For a second, it felt like he was flying, high on the euphoria of claiming Luis in the two most carnal ways possible.

Mine, Leon's entire body sang. He's mine.

It took a while for both the bloodlust to fade and Leon's erection to go down, but eventually, Leon pulled off Luis' shoulder with a gasp. He was shaking—both of them were. Luis was whining softly and cradling the back of Leon's head, holding him close while Leon fed from him.

He always trusted Leon not to take too much. Because in the five hundred years Leon had been alive, Luis was the only one who wasn't afraid of him.

Leon's chest clenched and his cock pulsed with the last aftershocks, making him moan and bury his face against Luis' throat.

"Fuck, Luis," Leon murmured against Luis' skin, then lapped up the blood dripping from the wound on his shoulder. "Such a good fucking boy."

A choked whimper escaped Luis' lips and his still-soft dick managed a weak spurt, trapped between their bodies as Leon's words milked one last orgasm out of him.

Leon pushed up onto his forearms and simply watched him with a perverted sense of satisfaction. Luis had an arm thrown over his eyes and was taking shallow breaths, his skin shiny with cooling sweat and Leon's bite bright red like a brand on his skin. 

He looked exhausted. Sated, but tired, and overwhelmed, and…

"Beautiful," Leon whispered.

Luis laughed hoarsely. "Oye, stop teasing. It's your fault I look like shit."

Leon felt his pale cheeks flame hot with warmth. He really hadn't meant to say that out loud, so he opened his mouth to apologize…

And Luis promptly cupped his head and pulled him down into a kiss instead.

Leon's breath stuttered as Luis' mouth moved sloppily against his own. They didn't usually do this: it felt more intimate than their no-strings sex warranted, and Leon was always afraid of accidentally hurting Luis with his fangs.

But Luis didn't seem to care. He eagerly licked into Leon's mouth, groaning as he tasted his own blood and teased at Leon's fangs with his tongue.

So Leon let himself indulge. He pressed close and kissed Luis hard and messy, smearing red over both of their lips. Luis shuddered and tightened his fingers in Leon's hair, canines playfully nipping Leon's bottom lip before Leon's tongue bullied its way into his mouth and made him moan.

Leon reluctantly pulled away after only a few moments, leaving Luis flushed and panting to catch his breath—and thoroughly testing Leon's self-control to not just pin him against the bed and kiss him for hours.

Luis laughed breathlessly. "Dios mío, who taught you to kiss?"

A drop of blood slid down Luis' chin and Leon licked it up with the flat of his tongue, ending with a peck on Luis' lips. "You did."

"Mmh, I am a very good teacher," Luis said smugly, then shoved Leon's shoulder. "Now move, you giant bat, you're crushing me."

Leon huffed and got off Luis, rolling over onto his back. "Still think the muscles are just for show?"

"A little." Luis winked, then groaned, "Ugh, I need to sleep. For a week, preferably."

Luis turned onto his side and immediately scooted close to Leon. Because vampires always ran cold, and with both the full moon frenzy and vigorous sex, Luis was a furnace. Being close to Leon simply helped him cool off.

Leon knew it didn't mean anything, but he still enjoyed the cuddling.

Luis pressed up against Leon's side, then yawned before tucking his head in the crook of Leon's neck and shoulder. He was sweaty and covered in come and his lips were still smeared with blood, but Leon didn't care. Luis was usually meticulous in his grooming, so it was nice to see him disheveled for a change.

Feeling particularly fond, Leon reached over to pet Luis' sex-mussed hair. Luis didn't say anything, but he tilted his head to give better access, then sighed quietly when Leon scratched behind one of his ears. Leon smiled to himself as he heard the soft swoosh of Luis' tail wagging across the sheets.

Part of Leon wished this didn't have to end—that Luis would call him pet names outside of sex and crawl into his bed for cuddles even on the nights that didn't involve the full moon or Leon feeding from him. That every night, Leon would get to kiss him and hold him and pet his ears even if they bickered until one of them fell asleep.

Because Leon loved this stupid mutt. But werewolves mated for life, and he wasn't about to insert himself where he didn't belong. 

He'd wait for Luis as long as he had to. And since they were both immortal, that could be quite some time, but Leon didn't mind.

Luis abruptly stirred against him, and Leon gave him more space as he tiredly lifted his head, eyes still half-lidded from exhaustion. The sun was already starting to rise outside and a sliver of light painted Luis' skin a warm gold.

But then Luis visibly sniffed the air, and poetic sunrises were the last thing on Leon's mind.

Leon quickly pushed himself up. "What is it!?" he demanded, already reaching for the bedside table for a weapon.

Though Leon's senses were enhanced compared to a human's, they had nothing on a werewolf's. It definitely wouldn't be the first time Luis had sensed hunters coming for them, smelling the silver bullets and wooden stakes long before Leon did.

In this state, Luis was temporarily weakened and wouldn't be able to fend for himself. But Leon felt stronger than ever after such a good feed, and he'd do anything to protect Luis; if a hunter so much as stepped foot in the building, he'd rip their head off with his bare hands and—

"The downstairs neighbor is eating bacon," Luis concluded.

Leon groaned and lied back down. "And that's relevant how?" he asked.

Luis' head flopped back down with a huff. "Because I'm hungry."

"Really? I'm not."

"Because you just ate from me, idiota!" Luis snapped, then settled and groused, "I want a steak. Rare."

Leon sighed but obediently got out of bed; it would be good for Luis to eat, especially since Leon fed from him so soon. "Fine."

"And a glass of wine," Luis added.

Leon didn't need to ask what kind—they both only drank red.

"Alright," Leon said.

"The good wine."

At that, Leon bristled: he knew exactly which wine Luis meant. And Luis knew perfectly well that Leon had aged that bottle for well over a hundred years.

"No!" Leon snapped, turning to glare at him. "Bad dog."

As soon as the words left Leon's mouth, he regretted them. Luis' entire face fell and his ears drooped miserably, his tail curling protectively around himself like Leon had physically struck him.

"Bad?" Luis asked, his bottom lip trembling. His expression was full of betrayal and he looked like he was about to cry, his eyes shimmering wetly as he whimpered, "I was bad?"

Leon's cold, dead heart clenched painfully at the display.

"No," Leon said, "no, you're not bad. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

Luis sniffled. "Really?"

"Really," Leon said. "I'll go get your food and the wine—it's about time I opened that bottle anyway."

God, he'd do anything to not make Luis cry. The stupid wine wasn't worth seeing him so miserable over.

"Okay," Luis said. He was still pouting, but at least he didn't look on the verge of tears anymore.

"Just sit tight, I'll be right back," Leon promised, shutting the bedroom door.

It didn't even take enhanced hearing to hear Luis start snickering as soon as the door closed, and Leon belatedly realized that he'd been played.

Nonetheless, he headed for the kitchen with only a slightly irritated sigh. It was his own fault for falling for the same damn trick for probably the hundredth time.

Because even though vampires were widely regarded as both the most powerful and intelligent creatures in existence, they all had a weakness. For some, it was sunlight, or crucifixes, or the classic wooden stakes.

But for Leon, it would always be Luis and his puppy eyes.