#- always secretly in love with long haired dark clothed sweet men

[prommethium]

Voy a sufrir tanto traduciendo. Estúpido Inglés, si me vieran... les juro que escribo re-bonito en Esp, y no es arrogancia. ¡¡¡JODER QUE HE LEÍDO TANTO Y SE NOTA!!!

Voy a llorar.

Sólo espero que algún día mi estilo en Ing sea aceptable; no leíble, no historia barata de Wxxxxx no la historia pendeja que recomiendan celebridades que "leen," QUIERO QUE SE NOTE QUE HAY QUIENES PODEMOS ESCRIBIR BIEN PARA FANDOMS.

[fairytheo]

enhypen as your boyfriend.

boyfriend!enhypen x gen!reader. fluff. 1.9k. curse words. mention of bugs, food. not requested.

🐈 ⸝⸝ HEESEUNG ˙𐃷˙

super-duper caring !!

he’s so whipped for you — he smiles just by thinking about you

also very giggly around you

LOVES lending you his beanies

(aka. you stealing them..)

+ you steal his earrings as well ! not that he minds

absolutely adores singing for you / he loves singing you to sleep :D

hold up, is being heeseung’s s/o just being his personal ramen cook 🤨🤨

he aaalwaays bugs you to play games with him (especially wii and nintendo switch lmao)

either that or you’re playing animal crossing while eating takeout at your dinner table

you’re the only person in the world who he’ll ever do aegyo for. 

he secretly enjoys it, but shhh you didn’t hear that from me

i think he likes calling you names like cutie, cutiepie or just a shorter version of your name <3 (if there is one !)

booping your nose is on his everyday to do list ☝️

lowkey therapist & boyfriend in one ngl

WAIT he loves making playlists for you two,, 

“y/n! i made another playlist, do you wanna listen to it? i made it while thinking of you.” <//3 

the type to write cheesy lyrics about you, then later cringes at his own writing bUT then leaves it like that because you like it !

you have his cover of lauv’s “i’m so tired” either set as your alarm or play it on loop everyday 

(random but for some reason i can picture him giving you a cassette with his cover on it just for the vintage vibes)

🐈 ⸝⸝ JAY ˙𐃷˙

the mom-and-boyfriend in one ;] 

f a s h i o n  c o u p l e 

you are literally fashion icons. no disagreements. 

you have matching clothes or accessories ! even if it’s really subtle, the gesture behind it is super adorable <//3

cooking pt. 2 :D but this time there’s a gorden ramsay in your relationship

i can just SEE how you both two impersonate gorden ramsay while cooking which makes everything 10 times funnier !! checks every 5 seconds if the food is ready tho because he doesn’t wanna risk anything

never cleans up afterwards, either you do or no one does

since you’re both fashion icons your social media followers are going 📈📈📈

literally couple goals.

he loves taking pictures of you,, but also wants you to take pictures of him 

jay gets flustered easily so please make him flustered with sudden compliments, hugs, kisses, etc. !!

he’s also the only member i can really see calling you babe

confident but shy about pda at the same time ??? he’s both LOL 

you always tease him with his RAS moments and randomly quote them when you’re in the middle of a conversation with him lmao

random and idk if this fits here, but he likes making your lunch — leaves you encouraging notes too <3

last but not least: jokingly gets angry at you when he wants something from you, and you do the same thing back ♡

🐈 ⸝⸝ JAKE ˙𐃷˙

sweetest and softest boyfriend to ever exist. i’m so soft for him JSHSHS

definitely calls you sweetie and darling. 100%. fight me if you think otherwise. 

shows you pics of layla everyday (it’s become routine for him >_<)

a tiny bit cliché BUT lends you his jacket whenever you’re cold (even when you’re inside !!)

random thought: jake puts his hands in your hoodie pockets...

💔💔💔

it’s his personal goal to peck your cheek and forehead at least twice a day — gets pouty if he wasn’t able to do that ))):::

talks in english a lot because you love his accent !!

if you’re an english speaker, you’ll have conversations in english all. the. time.

if you’re not an english speaker, no worries, he’ll teach you !

+ reads you bedtime stories in english (jake’s australian accent >>>) 

dreams of travelling with you to australia <33  

if there’s a bug in the house you better know that jake will NOT be removing them and runs out of the house

WILL stay over at one of the other member’s houses untill that bug is REMOVED . 

so if you’re afraid of bugs as well,,, i’m sorry bae, but it’ll be your task to remove these little... creatures 😐

ngl you have more photos of layla than of him on your phone lol

(spams you with her pictures and captions them with “y/n!!! look!!! layla with a flower!!!! layla with a butterfly!!!!” it’s just so sweet aaa)

we need some “””drama””” so you make jokes about him being a “🥶💸🔥💪” boy a lot in your relationship LMAO

🐈 ⸝⸝ SUNGHOON ˙𐃷˙

ice skating dates.

this has been mentioned in other headcanons a lot already but i just HAD to include it,,

convinces you to eat ice cream after your date LOL even if it IS winter

btw. fashion couple nr. 2 !!! 

MIRROR SELCAS

MIRROR SELCAS 

ugh the visuals and the power you two hold,,,, i can’t,,,,,

has better clothes than you ngl so you share clothes lmao

it started with him lending you his sweatpants, but then you didn’t want to return them forgot to return them and BOOM 💥 here we are

extremely awkward and shy at first — don’t worry though, he becomes much more chaotic in the later phases of your relationship

he teases you SO MUCH. LIKE. SO MUCH.

always has small smile (smirk?) on his face when he’s about to make a cocky remark (so beware)

you tease him back just twice as hard which 1.) results in him in becoming flustered 2.) fails LOL

off-topic but he’d love a s/o that has a similar style to him ??? a more elegant, classy, dark style perhaps

when he’s away / busy he’ll send you some selcas and captions them with “how r u doing??” “did you eat yet?” “cheer up :P” 

kinda shy about pda but likes showing off too ???

i mean,, men... 🙄🙄 /lh

whenever someone mentions your name near him, he’ll just try to hide his smile while biting his lip (yk what i’m talking about???) and you’ll see his dimples and the affectionate look in his eyes and just AAAAA

the type of boyfriend that calls you love~

🐈 ⸝⸝ SUNOO ˙𐃷˙

skin care routines with sunoo 24/7 🤝

he does your hair (if your hair is long enough to do different hairstyles with it ofc !!) 

send you daily weekly skin care products he thinks you two should try out / that’d be good for your skin <3

spa nights every friday at 9pm — he only lets you in if you wear a stylish pyjama LOL

you buy him peach items because they just remind you so much of him (｡•́︿•̀｡)

SELCA TIME !!! his phone is always ready !!! (apart from his storage maybe?)

PARTICIPATES IN SELCA DAYS OF YOUR FAVOURITE IDOLS AAA

loves to go on walks w u

does A LOT of aegyo,, 

and i know that you knew that this point will be in this headcanon.

for eg. instead of saying goodnight or bye he’ll just do aegyo for you not that anyone minds tbh

stages of sunoo flirting (?):

a — tries to compliment you (it sounds more like a flirty remark tbh)

b — realizes then blushes

c — cringes and runs away LMAO

playfully acts jealous, so you know it’s a joke but deep down he’s actually jealous

you two match each others vibes a lot — if one is sad, the other is sad as well

+ tells you your posture is bad when you sit like a banana or tells you to go to sleep early and when you don’t listen to him, he’ll show you an article that proves that (abc) and (xyz) is bad for you and says “i told you so.” 💀

🐈 ⸝⸝ JUNGWON ˙𐃷˙

impresses you by doing kicks (does the kick cap challenge on tiktok and/or you play kick it by nct 127 for the funzies) 

poking his dimple is a MUST . 😩😩

though gets super shy when you kiss him and also if you buy him gifts !!

cheers you up whenever you feel down or are upset

compliments you a ton ))): will randomly come up to you and tell you that your fit is cute or that you look brighter today,,, little does he know it's because of him ;]

HUGS!HUGS!HUGS

poking his dimple comes first, then hugging

the other members tease you two everytime you’re over LOL it’s like there are two koalas clinging onto each other

our yang garden gained another sheep +1

you two randomly play sheep,,,, like,,, everyday ???? sheep cosplays 👍

idk why ig it’s just fun to imitate sheep and go “mmmeEeEeeEhh” to annoy others

talking of that, even THOUGH he is a responsible leader he will not hesitate to do stupid shit with you

“hey how about we ring on that house there and yell “sheep for sale!” do you think they’ll open the door?”

“i don’t know... let’s find out!” 🤝

let’s just say that this didn’t end well..

also kinda bullies you (in a loving way ofc !!) pand teases you nonstop

either calls you asshole or love aHA

in conclusion: a very unpredictable relationship,, would 10/10 recommend.

very random but i feel like his love language is acts of service

🐈 ⸝⸝ NI-KI ˙𐃷˙

oh look it’s our tsundere 😼

can’t go a day without dancing so you two have vibing sessions at 2am everyday ft. the others telling you to go to bed

you’re the only one that can make him soft lol

if you’re older than him, you would definitely take care of him like your own baby !! 

if you are the same age as him or younger it’d be awkward for him at first, because he isn’t used to taking care of someone younger, so he’d treat you as if you were his best friend at the beginning

you love to watch him dance !! it’s so satisfying,, LITERAL asmr.

pranks you 24/7. boy has NO mercy. will not care if the others will scold him later. he will do the prank smoothly (?) — doesn’t care about the consequences LMAO

probably sets your alarm to someone screaming or a cringy aegyo song <//3

wants to film dance covers with you !! you don’t have to be the best dancer either !! as long as you have fun ^__^ 

the other members find you really cute but are also vERY TIRED OF YOU,, two energized teens in a relationship was not a good idea ☝️

likes to randomly hold your hand and swing it around 

probably distant at the beginning of the relationship because a.) he doesn’t want to pressure you/make things awkward b.) he doesn’t really know what to do either ???

(if you’re not japanese or don’t know how to speak japanese) he’ll definitely teach you some japanese phrases and words !! introduce you to his culture as well :DD and he really wants to know more about your culture too <3

teaches you phrases like “sunoo is a dumbass” for the funzies LOL

randomly makes micheal jackson impressions,,, it’s hilarious LMFAO

[baroquebucky]

symphony

in which bucky realizes the light you’ve brought into his life

word count: 2.3k of pure fluff

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs !! hope u all enjoy this fluff as reparations for the amount of angst I’ve been writing <333 let me know what you guys think !! inspired by this song :] sorry for any typos !!

Life felt monotonous for bucky. Everyday he would wake up, go for a walk, sometimes go out for dinner with his neighbor other times he would just stay in. Then he would go to therapy, suffer there for a while before coming back and doing nothing. Throughout the week he would go to the compound or the gym and train to get his mind off things.

“I just feel like I’m stuck in a loop and i can’t get out of it, it’s like a boring song that everyone’s playing on repreat” bucky grumbled, sam nodded, listening to bucky as he vented.

“i think you need something new in your life, something to spice it up” Sam spoke gently, thinking for a bit before a smile appeared on his face, “i know just the thing!” He cheered.

“how is coffee gonna help me” bucky huffed, sam just rolled his eyes, dragging the super soldier along to his favorite coffee shop.

“no trust me, this coffee is amazing, they have all these other drinks too and the person who always takes my order is amazing” Sam cheered, a smile on his face as he rounded the corner and saw you through the glass.

“that’s them!” He smiled, turning to look at bucky, he stopped in his tracks.

“you aren’t trying to set me up on a date right now, right?” Bucky looked at Sam wide eyed and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head and grabbing Buckys wrist.

“if this was a date i would’ve made you dress better” Sam shot back, bucky frowned looking down at his clothes. What was so wrong with his clothes?

“this is my favorite jacket” bucky pouted and Sam rolled his eyes, as the door opened a small chime went off.

“good evening sam!” You called out, a bright smile on your face as you finished taking someone’s order. Sam and Bucky stood in line, waiting only a couple minutes before you helped them.

“your usual?” you beamed and Sam smiled, you wrote it down quickly, turning to bucky with a smile, “what can i get for you?” Bucky blushed a bit, avoiding eye contact with you and glancing at the menu.

“i- well uh i don’t know actually” bucky hesitated, sam cringed at his friend, elbowing him slightly.

“what do you recommend?” he asked quickly, and you turned to look down at the menu as if you didn’t have it memorized.

“hmm, well i really the special we have right now, if you’re not into sweet then i recommend that one” you pointed out with your pen a smile still on your face.

“whatever your favorite is” He spoke, heart beating in his chest as the words tumbled out. You felt your face heat up at his words, nodding quickly. Bucky paid and went to go sit next to Sam, ears red and face hot.

Sam simply chuckled at him, waiting patiently for you to call out their order numbers. Bucky kept glancing up, stealing glances at you and marveling at how pretty you were. The way you moved so easily and kept a smile on your face anytime someone looked your way.

Buckys heart sunk a bit. He wished he could be like that, all smiles and rainbows, like the way he used to be. He thought about how brooding he was and the way sam always commented on the way he stared too much. He tore his eyes away from you and focused on the decoration in the cafe.

“57 and 58!” You called out, setting the drinks on the counter looking out for Sam and bucky, smiling when you saw the two men getting up and walking towards you.

“thank you y/n!” Sam smiled and you nodded, eyes moving to bucky, he gave you a tight lipped smile before walking out. “that wasn’t so bad was it” Sam smirked and bucky rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his drink.

“oh wow this is really good” bucky mumbled, drinking some more and furrowing his brows, sam smiled at him, nodding in agreement.

The two men returned a couple times every week, you smiling at them and saying hello, giving bucky a new drink to try every time he came. The two of you stealing glances anytime you looked over while making the drink, heart rate spiking when your eyes met.

Bucky was giddy to see you, wondering what you would give him today. Sam frowned when your coworker greeted them instead of you.

“wheres y/n?” Sam asked, you coworker frowned at the mention of you before replying.

“oh they quit, our boss kept giving them shit” she sighed, “between you and i, they only stayed this long because you guys kept coming back” she smiled, her eyes moving to bucky, “specially you.”

As the two men were leaving your coworker called out for them, handing them a piece of paper. “she told me to give you guys this, have a good day!”

They looked at each other before unrolling the paper, you handwriting on it along with your phone number.

“text me when you want bird boy” Sam read, laughing a little, he turned to bucky, craning his neck to read his, “what’s your say” Bucky had a bashful smile on his face.

“oh just to text them whenever” bucky cleared his throat, shoving the piece of paper in his pocket.

i really hope we can hang out properly soon :) the paper read, scribbled under was a list of drinks you wanted him to try. Buckys heart fluttered at the action, the whole time he was with Sam you were the only thing he was thinking about.

When he finally got back to his apartment bucky texted you, heart racing as he sent the text.

hi it’s bucky, i got your note let me know when you’re free :-)

Your heart jumped at the message, the biggest smile on your face as you read the text over again, giggling as you replied.

hi buck!! I’m free this weekend actually :]

The two of you made plans quickly, excited for a proper date and not just stealing glances and making small talk when he ordered his drink or picked it up from the counter.

When Saturday evening came bucky was frantic, texting sam and asking what clothes he should wear, recalling the time he made fun of his clothes before he met you the first time.

You were nervous as you got ready, hands shaking slightly as you changed into some nice clothing. You checked yourself out in the mirror and smiled, fixing your hair a bit.

The doorbell rang and you jumped, heart racing as you walked to the door, opening it with a smile.

Bucky stood there with roses in his hands, a bright smile on his face. He chocked on his breath a little as he took you in, it was the first time he’d seen you out of uniform and god you were perfect.

“oh thank you!” You blushed, smiling as you took the flowers from him, “come in I’ll just put these in water” you smiled, letting him in and quickly moving to put the flowers in a vase.

Your apartment was so comforting, bucky felt like he was safe there, he felt so at peace despite his heart racing in his chest.

“ready?” You asked and bucky smiled, he could hear the way your heart raced after you not so secretly checked him out. He was wearing a dark blue t shirt and a leather jacket along with some black pants.

“so where are we going?” You questioned and bucky smiled, turning to look at you nervously before focusing on the road again.

“is the fair okay? I know there’s one in town and I’ve been wanting to go but-” he rambled and you cut him off excitedly.

“i love the fair! I’m really good at those shooting games y’know” you bragged and bucky smiled, excited to see how skilled you were. “however i will not compete against you” you added quickly, making bucky frown.

“too scared I’ll beat you doll?” Bucky smirked and your heart raced at the nickname, your comeback dying on your lips. Bucky smiled as you sat there with your mouth open, looking away quickly before changing the subject.

As the two of you arrived bucky immediately knew he made the right choice, the way you had the widest smile on your face as you pointed everything out to him, eyes wide as you saw the giant dinosaur plush.

“you have a metal arm dont you?” You whispered and bucky smiled, nodding his head. “would it be, i don’t know, immoral for you to use it to get that dinosaur plush?” You blushed, giggling as bucky gasped at you.

“i cant believe you!” He teased and you frowned, bucky smiled at you, taking your hand in his and walking towards the game. He handed the man the tickets to play and held the heavy ball in his hands.

“you just have to knock all three cups over” the man spoke and bucky nodded, placing the ball in his right hand before throwing it, easily knocking the cups down.

“yay!” You cheered, running next to bucky and hugging him, the man handed you the giant plush and you smiled, staring at bucky with starry eyes.

“didn’t even use your metal arms sergeant” you teased and Buckys heart lurched at the titles. His heart was in frenzy as you smirked up at him.

“I’m a super soldier doll” he smiled at your face turned into one of realization, nodding your head.

“right, i forgot about that” you mumbled, struggling to keep the dinosaur plush from touching the ground, bucky smiled at you before he took it from your hands, easily tucking it under his arm.

“thanks” you blushed and bucky nodded, a smile on his face as he replied.

“cant have my best girl struggling on our first date can we” you blushed at his words, looking at him with a bright smile.

“first? as in more to come?” You questioned, a smile on your face as you stopped in your tracks, the lights from some ride illuminating your face in reds and pinks. Bucky nodded, suddenly his confidence was sizzling away.

“I mean unless you don’t want to that’s fine too i just- i mean” bucky rambled and you watched him struggle for a bit, biting your bottom lip before stopping him.

“I’d love to go on more dates” you spoke up, bucky smiled at you, letting out a small breath, “now let’s go to the Ferris wheel!” You easily slipping your hand in his.

Everything felt so easy with bucky, it never felt forced. The two of you constantly texting and calling when you weren’t together and grabbing dinner and going on dates more and more often. It was only a matter of time before bucky asked you out, everything falling into place for the two of you.

The two of you were in bed, you were cuddled up into his side as you watched a documentary on some lions. Bucky ran his fingers through your hair and you sighed, relaxing into his touch. It had been almost two years since the two of you went on your first date, but to bucky it felt like yesterday.

“you know i love you, right doll” he spoke suddenly and you looked at him, confused before nodding.

“i love you too loverboy” you replied, sitting up and kissing his cheek.

“don’t know where I’d be without you” he spoke softly, his blue eyes meeting yours, he smiled softly. “I used to think i was broken and no one would want me” he mumbled and you frowned, letting him continue.

“the only reason sam took me to that cafe was because i was stuck in this loop and i was going crazy” he laughed softly, “i thought i was never gonna get out of this funk but then” he stopped.

You looked at him, confused as he smiled at you, peppering kissing all over your face before caressing your cheek and kissing your forehead.

“then what?” You whispered, a smile on your face when you realized what he was going to say.

“then you came along” he replied, smiling at the way you wiggled to face him.

“you took me and you made me into a better person, you made my life so much better and now it’s like there’s a symphony playing anytime in with you” he spoke, a smile on his face when you reached your hand out and ran your fingers through his hair. You stopped your hand at the nape of his neck, pushing him towards you and crashing your lips onto his.

It was sloppy and passionate, but it was sweet. The two of you smiling into the kiss before giving him one last peck and pulling away.

“oh lovebug, that songs always been inside you, just needed a little tuning to get it right” you replied, taking him into your arms as he laid down on your chest.

For once, bucky was grateful sam had forced him to go out, he was grateful that you were working that day and you recommend him a drink. He was grateful that you went to the fair with him and you liked him enough to go on another date.

Bucky no longer wished to be like you, he didn’t long for the person he was in the 40s. He didn’t wish he could change into someone else anymore.

He didn’t because he was more himself than he had ever been. He was happy and he was at peace, he was who he had always wanted to become. He didn’t feel like he was stuck in the shadows in a constant loop.

Bucky smiled as you placed a gentle kiss on top of his head, mumbling a soft ‘i love you.’

Bucky felt happy, he felt at home and he felt in love. He was finally at peace with his life now that you were in it. You helped him become who he was, pushed him to be better and to change into who he wanted to be.

[anonymous-southern-armadillo]

SOA Headconnon.

(Chibs, Tig, Juice and happy) Opie jax and clay didn't make the cut pardners.

Synopsis: What dating the boys is like. (Chibs, Tig, Juice and happy only, sorry)

Warnings/disclaimers: Language. Non-graphic mentioned NSFW themes. Angsty themes. Fluffy shit fellers. So with that being said “typed”. This is going below the cut!

Chibs Telford

Dating chibs is a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because he can be so sweet, Heart on his sleeve whenever it’s just you and him.

He literally pulls his bike over if he sees wild flowers he knows you would love, picking them and dropping the vibrant flowers off at your home or work.

The boys often tease him for being a softie for you, But he prides himself for it.

The curse part though….

The croweaters absolutely loathe you because the relationship you and chibs have.

You can’t go to the clubhouse without hearing them whispering your name with venom.

But chibs knows how to make you feel loved, The whispers from the other women forgotten whenever he whisks you away for a night alone.

Lot’s of rides on his bike.

Wearing his leather jacket around the clubhouse to show everyone your his.

Expect this man to Shower you in small gifts.

Especially after arguments, That’s when he really pulls out the extra sweet shit.

Such as:

Chibs knew you were beyond pissed whenever he came home and the front door was locked, The windows as well. Luckily he knew how to break in without having to kick the door in. Whenever he walked into the silent living room he could hear the soft footfalls from upstairs, Knowing you were up there probably preparing for for bed. Creeping up the stairs silently, Chibs slowly pushed the door open seeing you pacing the floor. You were still pissed if the scowl on your face was anything to go by. Chibs sighs and leans on the threshold of the door, Watching you with guilt. He knew the argument was his fault, But in the heat of it he was stubborn and refused to admit it. Walking into the room he uttered your name in a hushed tone, Yet you heard him and curse under your breath.

“What do you want chibs?” You don’t look at him, instead you busy yourself with trying to fix the room you destroyed in a fit of rage.

The Scotsman walked over with his hands behind his back, Hiding what he held from you. “I wan' to apologize for being stubborn” He said while grasping your attention. “Also I have you somethin' ” You turn around and glare at him, It wasn’t as harsh as it once was but still cold enough to make him feel bad for the argument. Knowing how pissed he made you.

“Filip if you think you can use whatever gift you got me to mend this argument then you better get the hell out of here now” You huff, Word’s cold but you were still mad at him. That much obvious to chibs.

Sighing, Chibs slowly holds out his hand, The wild flowers of various kinds on display. You were mad at him, But the defeated look on his face and the small boutique of wild flowers helps ease away the anger and soon being replaced with guilt of your own. Smiling at Chibs you let a small giggle escape your lips.

“I swear you make it impossible to stay mad at Filip, Get the fuck over here” You say and pull him into a hug, Forgiving the man then and there.

Chibs wasn’t one to initiate cuddles.

BUT that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to them either.

He usually waits until your asleep until he ever so gently pulls your back flush against his chest, Large arm slung over your waist as his face nuzzles your neck.

Chibs makes it known to almost every in charming that you are, in his words, “His old lady” and he’d be damned if he ever lost you.

Insufferable. Dating this man is insufferable in the best way possible.

He never misses the chance to slap your ass, Whether it be in the privacy of your home or his dorm, Or in the public eye.

Tig trager

He’s not afraid of some PDA, He will make you sit on his lap and leave hickies on your neck just to show whatever man dared look your way that you were his.

Tigs, Although insufferable can be sweet. He makes it his goal to buy you whatever you want, He even surprises you with beautiful pieces of jewelry. He spoils you.

High sex drive. What’s surprising?

He literally takes you for drives on his bike to beautiful private places just so he can sit on his bike, Back against the handle bars with you riding him. Something he loves doing in his free time.

But he also loves binding you over the seat of his bike and taking you from behind, His hand tangled in your hair as you release a string of curses and moans of his name. 

He likes spoiling you, Like said before. He buys you all sorts of quite Revealing choices of wear. 

Mini skirts, short shorts. Plunging V-necked shirts and tank tops. 

He didn’t mind when you showed off your skin, He enjoyed the sight very much. 

But he also respected when you chose to wear more decent clothes most of the time, The sleazy ones more like a surprise for him.

Dates with him were spent at either the clubhouse bar or some bar out in town. He would occasionally (after chibs talked him into it) take you to restaurants that you liked, Letting you order whatever you wanted.

His flirtatious behavior though get’s him in more trouble then anyone could count, Leading to some angsty arguments with you two.

The party was in full swing at the clubhouse, Everyone in a particularly good mood after a successful deal made for more guns. Although specific details weren’t handed to you when it came to the business, Something your boyfriend tig would rather keep you out of. Speaking of tig though, you spot him by the bar with chibs and Bobby, talking amongst themselves. Chibs offering some blonde chick standing with them a small smile but warning flashing across his face making you a little curious. Shrugging it off, You smile and decide to join tigs side, The night boring without him pestering you with his constant talking and handsy self. Who would have thought you’d miss all that in a matter of minutes?

Once behind him you noticed that he was talking up the blonde chick, Shamelessly flirting with her. Bobby meets your furious gaze and tries nonverbally telling tigs you were behind him so the fool would hopefully close his trap. Luck wasn’t on tigs side tonight as you angrily placed your hands on your hips, Clearing your throat.

“Having a good time over here boys?” You say and the venom laced in it has chibs downing his beer and bidding the men goodnight. Mumbling something about having to talk with jax about something.

Tigs whips around so fast you fear he got whiplash, Bobby now amused at the horrified look on your boyfriend’s face. “Y/N! Baby, I was just getting you a drink” He tried to lie smoothly but you shake your head and ball your fists by your side. Seeing right through it, You knew he loved you, He showed that every day in small simple ways that you adored, But he always done this. Flirt with other women and shower them in his attention. You didn’t mean to be jealous, It wasn’t really that even. It hurt, Seeing and hearing him show and tell other women how gorgeous they were, It made you feel insecure, As if you weren’t enough for him.

You jab a finger at him when he tried explaining himself, The blonde behind him snickering at the scene. That pissed you off more. “Getting me a drink? By flirting with her?!” You scoff and turn around ready to leave the bar, But his large hand delicately grabbed your wrist and made you spin around.

“Shit I’m sorry babe I – I didn’t mean to” He stuttered out with a look of guilt. But you squirm free from his hold and storm out of the clubhouse with a heavy heart. Tig always causing the dull ache to burn your chest with his carelessness.

But he makes it up to you in the sweetest way possible.

Like trying his best to cook your favorite meal and surprise you with the house candle lit and the table fixed up nicely with your favorite flowers placed in the center of it.

Once all is forgiven, He would let you sit in his lap and curled up against his chest while you watch some old film on TV.

Like jax, He wouldn't initiate cuddles but he secretly loved when you cuddled him, Especially when you ran your fingers through his dark curls.

Juice Ortiz

Despite his flirty behavior and insufferable attitude, You loved tigs and he loved you, Even though he was hesitant to say those words back.

Juice wouldn't open up to you about himself much in the early stages of your relationship, He seemed shy, Nervous.

But after a month of dating, He started to be more open.

Juice seeked relationship advice from chibs, Not sure what he was doing and confused about his feelings for you.

Sweet. Absolutely sweet yet distant.

But chibs guided him through it and juice learned that he was indeed in love with you.

Lot's of sweet calls from him if he goes on a particularly long run, Telling you how much he missed you and loved you. Because he dropped the L bomb early into the relationship.

He doesn't really care for going out in public for dates so most the time it's either a picnic in the middle of nowhere or dinner at your house while binge watching shows.

Juice isn't eager to let you ride his bike with him, Afraid you'd fall off and get hurt.

If he did though, He made sure you were safe.

Making sure the helmet was on tightly. Urging you to hold onto him good enough multiple times before slowly driving you through the town of charming.

Overprotective, Like, Really overprotective.

Doesn't let you do anything if he thinks it's dangerous, The boy doesn't like seeing you get hurt.

With that being said, His overprotectiveness starts small arguments between you both.

More like harmless bickering.

Like:

Standing in the kitchen of your small home, You grab a cutting board and a knife, Preparing to cut some onions for the stirr fry you were cooking for yourself and your boyfriend juice. Tonight rare, No club business to attend. Just you and him, Spending the night together.

As soon as the sound of chopping fills the kitchen, Juice rushes in and quite literally takes the knife from you. Confused you look up into the wide brown eye's of the man you love. “Juice, what the hell are you doing?” You placed a hand on your hip and quirk an eyebrow at him.

He shrugs and starts cutting the onions. “Well I felt bad for making you cook dinner for us both by yourself, Thought I'd come in and help you” He shrugs and avoids your suspicious gaze narrowed onto the back of his head as he turned his back to you.

“So this isn't because you heard me using a knife?” You crossed your arms with a knowing look, This not being the first time you and him have danced this little dance.

Sheepishly peeking at you over his shoulder, Juice continued cutting the rest of the onions. “Maybe...” He trailed off, Your huff of frustration at his overprotective behavior caused him to place the knife down and turn around. Leaning on the counter with his hands resting on the top by his sides. “What? You always end up with cuts on you're fingers or hand whenever you have a knife! I don't like seeing you get hurt babe” He exclaims with those adorable eye's begging for this not to end in a argument.

Scoffing, You un-crossed your arms and fixated a stern stare on him. “Everyone get's hurt sometimes Ortiz, That doesn't mean you have to keep a close eye on me or treat me like I'm a baby!” You told him as he simply sighs and averted his eye's to the floor.

“Maybe I just wanted to help you cook! Maybe I wanted to chop the veggies for you!” He argues back as frustration of his own began to build up inside him.

“Maybe I wanted to do it!” You walked up to him, So close that you stood chest-to-chest. Juice looks down at you with an expression of seriousness, You mirroring his expression. But a small smile tugs at his mouth, a laugh threatening to tumble out. You quirk a brow, Curious as to what was funny.

“If you cut the veggies we would end up at the emergency room because you would end up chopping half you're hand off” He snickers, A full laugh finally rumbling through his chest. You couldn't help it, You began laughing as well. Forehead hitting his chest as you both laughed hysterically at his little joke. Although he was overprotective, He was also right. You couldn't look at a knife without cutting yourself by accident.

But sometimes arguments with you and him could get bad, Like him spending the night in his dorm at the clubhouse bad.

Usually he would be at your doorstep with some form of gift with glossy eye's. Apologies flying from his mouth.

The damned puppy dog eye's of his, He made it hard for you to stay made at him.

happy lowmen

Sweetie, A total sweetheart and you are absolutely privileged to be his old lady.

Dating happy is probably the best thing that could ever happen to you, Not only was he sweet with you, But a secret romantic.

Expect lots of roses to be gifted to you while your at work or simply chilling at him. He makes it a habit of having the red flowers shipped to you almost every day.

Like if he saw a little stuffed animal of your favorite kind, He would get it. just sweet simple things like that.

Date nights are spent at his house where he cooks you a big meal and you both eat outside under the stars.

Just like the other guys he showers you in gifts, But the ones happy gets you are more sentimental then anything.

This man loves cuddles, You can't change my mind about that.

Loves being the little spoon, He likes when you hold him, The feeling of your chest pressed against his back comforting.

But he is always open to being the big spoon himself, Holding you close to him just as comforting.

Happy loves when you ride with him, Your arms tightly wrapped around him as he flies down the road making him feel special that you chose him out of all the guys in charming to be with.

When he introduced you to the son's they all started teasing him about how you were to obviously to gorgeous for the older man.

But you always shut them up with a sassy remark or just plain out mouthing off. Either way the understood that you love happy and seeing him act like a complete lovestruck puppy around you made them ease the teasing some.

Although loving and sweet, It's apparent how much of a clean freak he is. You even nicknamed him Mr clean much to his dismay.

Sometimes you accidentally leave dirty dishes in the sink or throw laundry in a heap on the floor to fold later. Both duties forgotten as many other things keep your mind occupied.

Happy isn't very happy whenever he comes home to such things, He doesn't get mad, But it definitely gets under his skin and irritates him.

He huffs, Ignores you, Angrily doing the small chores you forgot himself. He never once raised his voice at you, Something he refused to do, That's why whenever you accidentally frustrated him he chooses to ignore you.

Like:

You have been struggling with house work and general work, Both things piling up and becoming one big jumbled mess. The morning you woke up for work, You noticed happy was still home and cooked him breakfast before he headed out, You had the dishes neatly stacked on the counter ready to be washed. But time spent with happy flew by faster then you thought, Making you four minutes late for work. Quickly shrugging your coat on and rushing out the door, You completely forgot about the two specific duties that set abandoned in the house.

So whenever you came home, Happy's bike in the driveway. You felt joy flutter inside you at the realization he was home, But whenever you walked inside the house you instantly felt the joy being replaced with guilt and fear of the beginning argument that would soon commence. You saw happy in the kitchen washing the dishes, His back facing you while you shrug your coat off and tossed your keys on the sofa. Walking into the kitchen you wrap your arms around his middle, Placing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“I was going to do that after we ate breakfast, But I lost track of time and ended up being late for work” You muttered, The silence you received letting you know he was pissed.

“Go sit down and I'll finish it hap, Then I'll order something for dinner” You said while rubbing his belly through his shirt, But he still doesn't move. His muscles tense. “Please... Mr clean” You try and break the very cold ice.

Happy shrugs you off though and starts rinsing the dishes he had washed, Giving you the silent treatment. You step back and watch him for a moment, Guilty for not keeping them clean. You knew he hated whenever the sink was cluttered.

“C'mon happy, It's not the end of the world because a few pans and plates where sitting in the sink” You lean on the table and crossed your arms, “I was going to clean up whenever I got back home from work” Happy scoffs and picks up a dish towel to dry his hands off, Leaning his back on the sink and looking at you with a blank expression.

“Why not do it as soon as the dishes are dirty?” He asks Finally, The words coming out raspy as his frustrated was crystal clear.

“Because I was late for work! I didn't have enough time to do it this morning hap!” You exclaim while motioning towards the sink. Starting to grow irritated by how he was acting. “I mean -- Jesus christ happy what do you want me to do, Call into work and tell them I won't be coming in because I have to wash dishes or else my boyfriend will be a dick all day?” You huff out angrily, Crossing your arms again as you look away from him, Jaw clenched.

“I'd appreciate them to be clean when I come home so I can at least cook my girl some fucking dinner! But y'know what? fuck it -- I'm going outside to fucking calm down!” He yelled while throwing the dish towel down out of pure rage. He then proceeds to storm outside, placing a toothpick between his lips.

You sigh and rub a hand down your face, Hating whenever you and happy argue. But sometimes he could be a dick, A real major dick. Walk over to the sink and finish washing what little dishes he left, Once their dry and put away. You start preparing him and you something for dinner, Just simple macaroni & cheese and chicken strips. It wasn't anything fancy or special, But you wanted to at least make him dinner after pissing him off unintentionally. It didn't take long until it was all done, You scoop some Mac & cheese into Two plates, Soon placing three chicken strips in each plate and walking outside onto your porch. Happy was in a chair looking out over at the yard, You hand him his plate hoping he'd take it. He did but doesn't look at you, Just held his food. You sat down in a chair beside and find yourself poking around your food rather then eating.

“I'm sorry I yelled” He broke the silence, Looking over at you. “I had a rough today and stupidly enough took it out on you... I'm sorry” He whispers and you forgive him the moment the sad glint swims around in his eye's.

“It's okay hap, I'm sorry I didn't clean the kitchen” You decided to slowly munch on the Mac & cheese.

He smiles a small smile and placed a hand on your thigh, Gently rubbing it. “You didn't need to do it, I was the dumbass who made that mess. Although I don't recall piling a bunch of clothes in the bedroom floor” He jokes. You almost choked on your food as you remember the laundry you needed to fold. About ready to get up to do so, He shakes his head in denial. “We can do that tomorrow, Right now we just need to eat this gourmet meal you made and relax” Happy once again jokes and you giggle at how he described the food. You and him sit outside on the porch eating dinner and laughing about random things, The argument forgotten.

IN CONCLUSION:

Happy is always guilty whenever he does raise his voice.

He also felt bad for making you make dinner and surprises you by folding the laundry early the next morning.

Which you rewarded him with some *coughs* early morning head.

Although he wasn't expecting such a reward, He excepted it graciously.

And he returned the favor like a gentleman.

[memeadonna]

Anything for You, Baby

Hello everyone! This is a short little thirst story I wrote for @sendhelpimstupid featuring Sugar Baby Kirishima. The stunning art can be found here. Please visit her page and show her some love! 

This story is 18+. Minors DNI 

Warnings: Sugar Baby/Sugar Mommy Relationship, Premature Ejaculation, Cross-Dressing, Sub Kirishima, Unprotected Sex, Breeding Kink, Mild Choking, Scratching and Biting Mentioned, Vaginal Intercourse, I wrote this in like 3 hours sorry if there are any grammatical mistakes

Word Count: 2,562

Of all the things you were thankful for in life, people were always surprised when you mentioned Kirishima's expensive taste. Your entire relationship had started because he hadn't noticed how much money he'd been spending until one day he was overdrawn. He hadn't added up the totals of his expenses in his head, hadn't realized every time he swiped his card that money left his account. He liked the finer things in life, and how was he supposed to know that his bank account was meant to last him all of his first semester? His parents had told him "figure it out", so he couldn't even ask them for help. 

Being at a hero school was tough already – he could barely even enjoy the city nightlife since he was stuck at the dorms between classes doing homework. He didn't even have enough time to get a job outside of school hours. Maybe he wasn't cut out for university, let alone at a prestigious hero school. 

You had noticed Kirishima's state of panic, and when he confessed to everyone in the dorm that he was out of money, people (Bakugou and his other friends) had made fun of him. Uraraka and Iida had stepped in immediately, chastising them for mocking him. He tried to play it off as no big deal, that he'd figure it out, and the conversation shifted elsewhere. 

You'd been born into a wealthy family like Iida and Momo, and on top of that you'd had your own job throughout high school, so you'd saved up lots of money already.  "I could hire you," you told him after everyone had left for the night. "Pay you to do things for me." 

"I don't need your charity," he'd snapped back. "Did Bakugou put you up to this?" 

"I just thought I'd offer to help you since we're friends," you answered calmly, before getting up and heading to your dorm. That night you'd sat up late regretting ever asking him if he needed help. 

Early the next morning he was at your door. "What kind of things?" was the first thing he asked, as you rubbed your eyes and blinked up at him blearily. You made him repeat himself twice because the words didn't stick in your brain this early. 

"Clean my room, do my laundry," you'd finally told him, offering what you hoped was a kind smile. "Other things when I want them." The blush he gave you at those words more than made up for his harshness last night. 

You'd started slowly, of course. You gave him rewards for handing in assignments on time, taken him out to dinner when he got good grades, and little treats for random things. "Do I always need a reason, baby?" you'd asked him one night as he examined the concert tickets, you'd just given him. You'd been delighted to accept the ticket he gave back to you and had secretly smiled to yourself as Denki had whined and complained that Kirishima had promised to take him! But that was back when Kirishima was spending his money on everything. Now he was just spending it on himself. 

One day, half-joking, you'd gifted him a French Maid outfit to clean your room in. It was just a little too tight for him (he couldn't even do the zipper up!), but it was the creamy white stockings and cute little heels you were interested in. He tried his hardest to clean your room, but after the third time he rolled his ankle, he ended up with you in his lap, and let's just say that your relationship changed from there. 

You'd pushed him back into your bed and felt him up beneath the skirts and ruffles. You left a smattering of dark hickies over his neck and collarbones, moving down his body with clear intent. He was beet red, sitting up and panting as he watched you with wide eyes. Your hands slipped below his skirts and trailed up his legs, and you watched him squirm. "Aw," you teased, revelling in your victory. "What's wrong, does the baby like getting dressed up all cute and ravaged?" 

He stammered with a reply for a moment, but you dipped under his skirt and the breathy gasp he let out as you began to kiss up his thighs was more than worth it. A part of you wanted to pull back out and apply lipstick so you could leave more evidence of your kisses, but there was no way in hell you were going to back down now. You settled for more hickies and a few bites, and by the time you reached your prize, he was hard and throbbing. 

You were the only person with a dorm on your floor (luck of the draw), so you didn't dare tell him he should quiet down his moaning, especially not as you slid the lacy panties reverently down his thighs. 

It was clearly his first time, and he was squirming in your grip as you gave him a teasing lick. A part of you wanted to pull back and tease him some more, but this was too good to pass up. He threw an arm over his eyes and slipped his other hand into your hair. He arched his back as you raked your nails down his thighs, and let out the sweetest noise you'd ever heard, blowing his load directly in your face before you could even get him into your mouth. After you'd finished laughing and wiped his spunk off of your face, you'd given him the sweetest kiss on the cheek. He'd gone beet red as you laughed, and hadn't said no when you promised him a shopping spree because he was just so good for you. 

The sales lady at the lingered store had been surprisingly accommodating when you'd asked her if they carried up to a 3X. 

He'd been your sugar baby for all of first year, even after he got his own allowance from his parents. He'd been your boyfriend the rest of your university career (of course, you still liked to treat your spoiled baby), and a few years out of school he'd asked you to marry him, with that same sweet expression he always had when he told you he loved you. 

The world saw Red Riot as a strong, manly hero that took shit from nobody. They also saw him as hopelessly in love with you (or with Dynamight, depending on which magazine you read). He was a real Man's Man, always on the covers of fitness magazines or advertising sports drinks and protein powders. He advocated for always being chivalrous and brave, but that Manly Men also took the time to be vulnerable and compassionate. 

One thing that hadn't changed since your days in university was the fact that your Eijirou loved to be spoiled. Shopping sprees, private chefs, weekends away… his eyes always lit up no matter what you surprised him with. You were both similarly ranked in the charts, and both made a lot of money, but he secretly adored the fact that you had a bank account you filled up every month just for him. He'd buy whatever he wanted with it, whether it was designer clothes or handbags (for either of you), or any number of things (he particularly liked buying new gym equipment that the two of you most certainly didn't need). 

Today had been a hard day. You'd been overusing your quirk and your muscles were sore, not to mention you'd been working with one Lord Explosion Murder God which meant that you'd been ordered around all day.

When you got home, a note from your husband was laying on the counter. Eijirou would be home a little late, and you could order whatever for dinner. Grumbling to yourself, you refused to take yet another order from yet another person and reheated leftovers in the fridge. Take that, loving husband! 

You ate standing at the counter in your uniform, and after you'd put the dishes away you marched up to your bedroom, already peeling your costume off. You left it on the bathroom floor as you hopped into the shower, and just let the hot water scald your aching muscles. You used Eijirou's body wash because you missed his smell, and changed into your pyjamas while you combed your hair. 

You crawled under the covers and scrolled on your phone for a while, wishing your husband would just hurry up and come home already. You wanted to fall asleep in his arms, hear him tell you all about how he would protect you from the bad things in the world. 

The sound of footsteps ascending the stairs woke you from a restless sleep, and you sat up in bed. How long were you asleep? Was that your Eiji? 

The door opened, and what greeted you took your breath away. Your husband stood in the doorway with a sheer robe, trimmed with red faux fur. It was tied with a ribbon around his waist and accentuated his hips beautifully. He was wearing red lacy thigh highs and nothing else beneath the robe. He completed the look with a set of Louis Vuitton stilettos, which you noticed in passing due to the stunning everything else the Adonis before you was showing off. 

"Hey," he purred. "Heard you had a rough day." He smirked at you as your eyes trailed up and down his body. "Can I make it better?" he took a few steps into the room, undoing the ribbon around his waist teasingly slowly. He opened the robe, letting it fall off his shoulders and rest at his elbows. He had filled out a lot since university, and he was a healthy 7'6 and twice as wide as you. He could lift you with one arm and toss you like a football if he wanted, but as he dropped his robe to the floor and elegantly clicked his way across the room towards you, he had no intention of tossing you around tonight. That thought made sparks dance around your core, and you felt your panties starting to soak. 

You sat up on your knees for a better look at him. He ran his hands over his body, shamelessly showing off for you. His dick stood proud and tall and was already leaking for you. You smiled at him as you slipped into your role. "Did you buy that to look pretty for me?" you asked ever so sweetly. "Sounds like you want a reward." 

He walked right up to the side of the bed with a breathy "Yes,". You leaned up for a kiss and enjoyed the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he took his time with you. 

His hands gently explored your curves, squeezing the plush of your thighs and the soft skin beneath your breasts, and as you pulled back to lick your lips at him, "Anything for you, Baby," felt like the most natural thing to say. 

He crawled into bed, careful not to kick you with his knife-shoes, and placed his wrists at the headboard. You attached the restraints with all the care in the world, and ran your hands over your baby's chest, admiring all of the scars that years of hero work had marked him with. "You're beautiful," you told him, leaning down for another kiss. 

You painted his chest with kisses and hickies, not caring if they'd be visible the next day. Let people stare. Let people know who your man belonged to. 

"I love these too," you ran your hand over his new stockings. "You know lace is my favourite." 

"Always the best for mommy," he purred back, pleased with himself as you explored his body. It had become familiar to you; you knew everywhere he was sensitive. You knew how to get him going, how to slow him down, and how to drive him wild. You shrugged off your own pyjamas and he let out a noise of approval, eyes taking in your curves. "You're stunning." He offered, looking absolutely awestruck. If his hands were free, they'd be all over you, but now was not his turn for control. 

You slid off your panties and tossed them off the bed, eyeing his body up with increasing lust, before suddenly straddling him and sinking down onto him with a small noise of discomfort. He let out a sharp noise of concern and pleasure, gasping. "You've gotta prep yourself!" He hissed, half-drunk on the tight squeeze. 

"Shut up," you answered, and picked up a brutal pace. He let out a strangled noise and arched up into your touch, gasping and whining and looking up at you with eyes clouded by lust as he gave harsh thrusts up into your welcoming body. His hands hardened and unhardened within their restraints, along with a line along his forehead. You wrapped your hands around his throat, and he tilted his head back to bare it to you. His moans crescendoed as you began to put pressure on him, canting your hips faster and faster. 

He was drunk off the lust singing in his veins and bent one of his knees to give you better leverage. You freed one of his hands from its restraint and it immediately flew to your hip to help you ride. His tongue was lolling out of his mouth, and his breath came in desperate gasps. "Gonna cum!" he whined, blinking desperately up at you. "Please mommy! Please let me fucking cum I want to cum so bad!" he babbled, blinking his pretty crimson eyes up at you. 

You gently caressed his face and smiled down at him. You leaned in closer, giving him a deep kiss. "So do it," you growled. "Knock me up." 

His hips faltered and the absolute roar he let out at your challenge sent a pleased shiver through you. He ripped the other restraint right off of the bedframe (along with a chunk of the frame itself) and flipped you onto your back, all without pulling out of you. He kissed you ravenously, his hands squeezing every inch of you. He grabbed one of your tits in one hand as he reached his other down to play with your clit. He threw you over the edge, and as you came around him, his thrusts changed. They were sharp and purposeful as he poured everything he had into your body. 

"Mine," he growled out, sinking his fangs into the tender meat of your shoulder. He didn't dare move as the two of you came down from your highs but rolled the two of you back over so he didn't crush you. You laughed a little and cuddled into his chest, enjoying the warmth of a womb full of his cum and the delicious stretch of him inside of you, not to mention the feeling of utter safety that having his arms around you brought. "I love you." He purred, giving your forehead a kiss.  

"I love you too," you answered back, smiling up at him with tenderness. 

"Did you really mean it?" he traced his hands over your back, massaging your tender shoulders. "You want to start a family?" 

"Mhm," you nodded tiredly, before looking back up at him once again, echoing your earlier promise: "Anything for you, Baby." 

Taglist: @malicealieness (If you would like to be added to the tag list, please send me an ask requesting it)

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 01 / all for us

summary: you wake up in a room that seems to be made specifically for you. as it turns out, it is made for you. you find that out when levi ackerman and erwin smith come in to the room and admit you aren’t allowed to leave. how are the first few days?

word count: +2.0k

warnings/notes: cursing, mentions of drugging, mentions of kidnapping, slight manipulation, abuse, violence, and starvation

YOU never thought that you would end up as a canary. a pretty yellow bird with dark dull eyes as you sat in a cage, a trap.

it all started when you met him. the devil incarnate. erwin smith.

he was charismatic young man, sitting at the age of 35 as he held the title of a prosecutor in court. you find it ironic, he puts vile criminals into jail but overlooks himself, the most vile of them all.

he met you at a café. the coffee beans were grinding in the machine at the counter, you remember how you relished in the smell.

when he first caught sight of you, you were scribbling on notebook paper with a nice black ballpoint pen. the gold framing of the pen shined in the light as you twirled it between your fingers. you looked slightly frazzled, but also at ease; something erwin was not used to seeing. you had white earbuds with the slight appearance of brown on the cords in your ears, hooked up to a laptop that you would occasionally glance at.

erwin thought you were a beauty.

you remember how he sat across from you, smoothly initiating a conversation with you. he was delighted to find out that you were a pianist along with a violinist, he loves classical music. you explained to him that you were struggling to create a song for your performance the next week, that all the music notes were just starting to contort into doodles.

when he helped you, that's when you felt grateful. you remember how he mentioned his partner, levi ackerman, and his own enjoyment of the piano. he asked for your number along with the venue where you would be performing.

you gave him the information easily, seemingly ecstatic about someone coming to your performance.

the next week after your performance, you met levi. he was curt and blunt, his difference from erwin had almost given you whiplash. luckily, you learned to adapt and you even would quip back at him playfully. it managed to make him smile, just a little. you enjoyed his company just as much as you did erwin's, something the two of them were happy about.

it wasn't until weeks later of hanging around them that it all went downhill. you went drinking with the two of them, easily complying to levi's request to drink more and more of your alcoholic beverage. it was the last drink that had you realizing that no other drink you had ever had was salty like this. you collapsed shortly after.

you remember waking up in a room, decorated to accommodate you and your interests. there was a white bookshelf that had gold framing splayed onto it with a vast selection of novels. there were three soft and plush chairs by the bookshelf with a soft rug underneath. a small coffee table sat in the middle of the rug.

there was a large bay window with a gorgeous view of a colorful and bio-diverse garden. cushions and throw pillows were placed onto the windowsill, another place for you to sit. the bed you'd awoken in was a queen, heavy cotton sheets messily spread across the bed. around the the room and even on the ceiling were soft yellow lights disguised as vines. directly across from the bed was a vanity and above that hung a nice flat screen TV. the night stands beside your bed held lamps and small knick knacks that you could entertain yourself with.

there were three doors. one to the left of your bed, one to the right of your bed, and one to the right of your television. you found out later that the one by your television was a small bathroom with nothing but a toilet and sink. the door to your right side of the bed was a walk-in closet that was decorated in clothing you'd never be able to afford.

you remember how after that, levi and erwin barged in as you panicked and started to pace around the room. you remember defying them, cursing them, hitting them, kicking them, and even spitting at them.

with a silent look from levi, erwin's distraught face turned slightly sad. his eyes were misty as he shuffled himself outside of the room. when levi's knee came into contact with your face, you realized why. especially whenever the gushing of blood dripped out of your nose and his voice screamed that none of this was their fault, but your's instead.

but now, levi was once again punishing you. you hadn't meant to do it. you hadn't meant to slap erwin. while you had a panic attack, your muscles thrashed without your command and you ended up slapping erwin across his face. you were secretly satisfied when you saw the pained look he gave you, but it immediately turned to dread whenever levi's rough hands pulled at your hair.

he's kicking you once again, and he occasionally accompanies it with a harsh slap.

"i didn't mean to, i didn't mean to!!!" your sobs sound so broken as you land on your side from levi kicking you.

levi ignores you, forcing you to stare at erwin, who sits at the door of your bed with that same neutral look sprinkled with pain.

"please!!!" you plead as you squeeze your eyes shut, "please, i didn't mean to!! i didn't meant to hit him!!"

levi stops his assaults, staring at your cowering form from above. the collar around your neck connected with chains clang against each other as you wearily raise your head.

erwin and levi are expecting a small whimper of pleas, but instead they watch as you slam your head against the hardwood floor. it has you reeling but even so, you continue. you're slipping into another violent mental breakdown, head banging against the floor as your other hand punches at your hipbone continuously.

your teeth are gritted as you start banging your ankle against the ground.

within seconds, levi and erwin are moving you onto your bed and holding down your thrashing limbs. they're murmuring sweet nothings to you, a hand on your forehead holding your head down against the pillow. you sob out again, entering the stage of hyperventilation and wails. erwin is crying along with you while levi just reminds you to breathe.

levi's hands are pressing your's on his chest and over his heart. his heartbeat guides you into stable breathing. when you've calmed down, you enter the shutdown stage.

"there we go," erwin praises and strokes a thumb against your cheekbone, "back to breathing."

levi stares at his boyfriend, who’s muttering something in your ear, but turns his attention back to you whenever you let out a small grunt.

"she wants to watch a movie," erwin says, pressing kisses to your cheek.

"any movie in particular? if not, i'll put on scooby doo; i remember you saying that it comforted you once," he grumbles while he turns on the television.

you don't answer, unsurprisingly, and levi puts on 'what's new, scooby doo?' for you. levi lays back next to you, cuddling into your warm and unmoving body.

it takes two episodes of watching the show for you to start letting out small, yet forced, giggles at some parts of the show. it takes two more for you to be able to speak again.

"food," that's all you said.

erwin shakes his head and wags a finger, "how do you ask properly?"

"can i have some food, please," you sound so tired.

the two men nod and leave your room to get you a meal. you sit up quietly and look down to your hands. they always left your hands untouched, seemingly trying to protect them from the abuse that levi would put onto you.

"stupid, fucking stupid," you spat, "this is their fault, not mine. their fault, their fault, their fault."

you drill the words into your head, but are soon interrupted whenever erwin enters the room with a tray of food.

"you're even sitting up now," he acknowledges while he puts the tray on the bed in front of you.

you thank him quietly and try to ignore the large hand stroking your hair.

"i love you," he doesn't. you don't do this to those you love. zeke never did this to you.

erwin frowns at your silence, hand now tilting your face to look at him. instead of love, your eyes were filled to the brim with hatred.

"you'll come to love us soon enough," he has no ounce of emotion on his face as his finger softly rubs against your skin.

"i doubt it," you mumble and force your face out of his hand. you just want to eat.

when you look down at the tray, you notice the absence of forks and knives. it has your stomach dropping.

"i'm feeding you," erwin says, fork between his long fingers, "we can't trust you with knives just yet."

erwin stabs the fork into cut up chicken breast on your plate, holding it up to your chapped lips. you stare at the food, had it been drugged?

"i don't want to be fed."

"that's too bad. you're being fed anyway, we can't trust you with forks either just yet," he grabs ahold of your jaw and forces your head to turn towards him.

his thumb and index finger squeeze your cheeks, forcing your mouth open with ease. you jerk away at the food suddenly being forced down your throat, hacking as if you were trying to get it up.

"let me chew first," you cough, handing reaching to touch gently at your adam's apple.

erwin doesn’t respond, opting to put another piece of the food onto the fork. he holds it out towards you, patiently waiting for you to stop choking and to eat again. you clear your throat, the idea of willingly letting erwin feed you makes you sick. you don't want to submit.

"i won't eat anything if you don't let me use the fork myself," you feel a headache coming on, fingers now pressing against your temples.

"then i guess you just won't eat," he says with a hint of sadness, taking the tray back into his hands.

you're so hungry. and the smell of the grilled chicken breast with a side of mashed potatoes isn't helping. you don't want to submit. you can't submit, you won't survive.

"guess that's settled then," you flop back down onto your back.

it wasn't the answer or reaction that erwin was expecting, judging by his widened eyes and stiff posture. he relaxes as he shakes his head in disapproval, walking out of the room and locking the door behind him.

you stare blankly at the ceiling while trying to ignore the growling of your stomach. your head hurts from the lack of food, another thing you're trying to ignore.

you turn on your side, but immediately cry out in pain. levi's earlier assault was starting to form bruises on your body, and the idea that you couldn't even curl into a ball made you want to cry. you hiss when you shuffle back onto your back, ignoring the searing pain that shoots through your ribs and sides.

your eyelids feel heavy after you settle down for a while, finally able to ignore all of the pain you've endured.

————

when you wake up, it's raining. there's not much natural light coming into your room, which you're okay with.

a pang of pain shoots through your head when you sit up, hands immediately grabbing at your hair and nails digging into your scalp. the tugging of your hair made your headache a little more bearable even if it was for a second.

the sound of your stomach growling and chains clinking echos through the quiet room, causing you to look down at your stomach. the chains are cold against your skin, tiny shivers spreading across your stomach.

you sigh and get yourself out of the bed. you walk to your bathroom, peeing with your face buried in your hands on the toilet. you ignore the fluorescent lights, which make your head hurt worse, and wash your hands aggressively.

you look up in the mirror as you do so, but you wish you hadn't. your eyes were puffy from the tears you shed yesterday and there's now a bruise on your swollen cheek from levi's smacking. you hold back the urge to punch the mirror, instead wiping your hands off with a towel and chucking it at the wall. you slam the door behind you and start to walk pass the three chairs meant for you, erwin, and levi. a wave of dizziness has you stopping and holding onto it, eyes instinctively squeezing shut.

when it passes, you grab a book and a throw blanket that's sat on top of one of the chairs. you settle onto the cushions of the bay window, taking a moment to stare at the rain falling.

you open the book, 'perks of being a wallflower', and find yourself lost in the words.

it's when levi comes in with a tray of food that you realize an hour or so has passed. he looks shocked to see you sitting and reading in silence, checking his watch as if he were making sure he didn't wake up late.

"got you food since erwin had to go to work. it's belgium waffles with some fruit and bacon on the side," he sits down next to your, now, curled up legs and puts the tray on the opposite side of him.

you wince at the mention of food and at curling your legs close. it doesn't go unnoticed.

"maybe if you didn't act out you wouldn't be in so much pain now," he says, holding out a piece of the waffle and a hand under to make sure the syrup doesn't drip onto the blanket.

"i'm not going to be fed. i'm not a child," you stare at the food.

"you're going to starve to death if you don't eat. quit being stubborn and fucking eat. i don't feel like cleaning up a body," he snarls and you resist the urge to kick his hand away.

"if you let me feed myself, i'll eat. then, you won't have to worry about digging me a hole."

"you haven't earned that privilege. we feed you for now."

"then i guess i don't eat," your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare at him.

"you're stupid. you'll end up dying."

"rather die than be fed like a child."

"you've got some pride. maybe i can beat it out of you," he drops the fork onto the plate.

"if you beat me anymore then you might actually have to worry about a body," you avert your eyes back to your book.

"if it's what needs to be done," he crosses his arms, "speaking of bodies, your's reeks."

"i don't have a shower in my bathroom, i can't help you with that issue," you shrug and flip the page.

"you can."

"i'm not letting you bathe me either. i'm not stupid. if you're feeding me then you're obviously going to be bathing me."

he chuckles a little at your defiance, but you know it's forced. you can smell the frustration on his body and your ego inflates knowing that you're the one who got him to be like that.

"when you decide you want to live, knock at the door and call for me," he grabs the tray and leaves the room, once again locking the door behind him.

"i can wait eight more days before i die."

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

The friend part 8

The Friend

The Friend part 2

The Friend part 3

The Friend part 4

The Friend part 5

The Friend part 6

The Friend part 7

The count down is on for the finale of this series. This chapter was co written with the lovely @beccabarba who wrote the delicious smut for it.

Warnings: pinning and smugness, Little rough but not too much smut.

WC: 3831.

Enjoy x

For as long as you could remember, you’d thought Paris was one of the most beautiful cities in the world. You had years of memories going with your mum every year, watching all the runway shows with eyes wide at the beauty of the outfits and your mum taking you shopping to buy you things that “no one in Chicago would have”. But, while some young women and men dreamt about finding the love of their life in the city, getting engaged in front of the Eiffel tower, or having a romantic kiss photo op in front of it, you dreamt about the clothes, shoes, bags and sunglasses that you would get on your three weeks there, the fashion shows that left you in awe and the party after party eating and networking with gorgeous people from around the world and  then on the way home stopping in New York and having the same experience.

The four weeks away was usually the best time away, getting away from Chicago, away from work commitments and you usually felt really sad about coming home and having to get back into the grind of things, but for the first time in your life you pictured yourself in the city of love with someone you cared about. You wanted that cliché photo of being dipped down and being French kissed by your Romeo with the sun setting behind the tower, walking through The Louvre hand in hand and kissing in dark corners.

From the moment you stepped foot in Paris you were noticing the couples everywhere and you secretly hope that his bearded face would appear in front of you in the crowd, claiming he was there for Eliana, but deep down knowing he was there for you. You had both agreed it was too risky to have any contact while you were away with Eliana always close by and your heart hurt when it flew over the ocean that it would be four weeks till you saw him again or heard his voice.

You knew these feelings were bad, really what good would come from them. As soon as Eliana found out, one of two things would happen, she would either be over the moon that you were together and both happy or she would lose her mind hating her dad again and even worse hating you, and deep down you knew it would be the latter. The chances of Eliana being happy about everything were almost the same chances as you becoming a designer.

You had a ball with Eliana no matter what the situation and this time away was no different, but this was the first time you were counting down the hours till you were back in Chicago, your mind half with you and the other half with the man that made beard burn look like a fashion statement, and you couldn’t wait to see him again. It was a last-minute decision for Eliana to stay in New York, her mum flying out to meet her. They were going to be spending the week there, you were so excited when the plane touched down, and when you were finally in a taxi you unlocked your phone dialling his number,

“My sweet,” Racehorse said deeply over the phone.

“Hey” you cooed “I missed your voice”

“Hope you missed more than that, sweetums. I should be home in about an hour”

“I’ll be there”

It wasn’t long after you got home that you were back in a taxi and hoping that the taxi driver wasn’t judging you for what you were wearing. Your tummy filled with butterflies when the cab pulled into the driveway and you got out walking to the double doors that almost looked unrecognisable in the dusk of the sunset, you so used to seeing them in the dark of night. You rang the doorbell and as usual it wasn’t long before the door swung open and your face heated up when your eyes met his, running over his handsome salt and pepper beard, his hair perfect, two buttons undone on his collar showing that he had no under shirt on, his sleeves rolled up and his socked feet. All while his eyes ran over the thigh length designer trench coat, a long designer scarf tied around your neck, a pair of thigh high black lace trimmed stockings and a pair of Mary Jeans you picked up in New York.

You heard a growl rattle in his chest before an arm hooked around you pulling you into him and his lips landed on yours, kissing you deeply as he pulled you in the door and slammed it shut. Your hands went to his neck, moaning into his mouth and a spark shot through you when you felt the warmth of his skin on your palms,

“Four weeks was a long time” he muttered and peaked your lips.

“It was” you purred “I have something for you” you stepped away reaching into your bag and pulling out a box with a ribbon around it and you handed it to him resting it in his long-fingered hand. He raised an eye brow when he pulled to undo the bow and saw the designer name on it and then pulled the lid off, his mouth dropping open slightly seeing the brown leather band watch sitting on a pillow in it “Hope you like it” you smiled small.

“Very much” he lent over, his lips crashing on yours kissing you deep and rough “Thank you, my sweet. That’s very nice of you”

Racehorse put the lid back on the box, grabbing your hand and started to pull you towards his bed room, you dropping your bag on the couch on the way past. Once you were in there, he dropped your hand walking to the bedside table and sitting the watch box on it and sitting on the edge of the bed, beckoning you to him with his long pointer finger. You walked over to him slowly, his eyes running up your legs and he spread his legs before you stood between them,

“Did you miss me?” your hands went to run over his shoulders, his hands on your hips.

“You know I don’t answer those type of questions, sweetums” he winked smugly.

A grin pulled to your face and you lent down, your lips going to his ear, your breath hitting his skin and you felt him shiver,

“Please Sir, tell me you missed me” you purred in his ear and nipped his ear lobe before standing back up tall and you started to scarp your nails over his clothed chest.

His big warm hands came to rest on yours, stopping them in their track,

“You’re a smart woman, my sweet. I don’t need to tell you what you already know” he smirked and his hands started to push your hands down his chest and he guided one to his crotch, your hand cupping him giving him a squeeze over his zipper.

His hand left yours and he reached up pulling the waist tie of your jacket and then he started to undo the buttons for it fall open in front of you. His eyes ran over your naked body that was now on show for him, to the top of your lace thigh high stockings. You saw the look on his face, pulling your hands away from him and standing up straight. Your eyes locked with his as you shrugged off your jacket letting it fall off you to pool at your heeled feet, just leaving you in your stockings and scarf.

You could see the bulge in his pants and you moved to straddle his lap. Your hands going to his neck again and his hands started to run all over your naked body and groping at the plump flesh at the front and back of your body. You broke the kiss rolling your hips down on him and his hands grabbing at your ass,

“Next time I go away for four weeks…”

“I’ll be coming with you, young lady.”

His lips landed on yours again, his arms wrapping around you and he moved to lay back on his pillow, pulling you down on top of him. Your elbows were either side of his head, your fingers threaded into his hair and his hands were on your hips pushing you down on him while you kissed each other deep, your tongues rolling together.

Without breaking the kiss, you reached up to your neck loosening the scarf and pulling it off you. You finally broke the kiss, reaching up to hook the scarf around the bed head and then grabbed one of Racehorse’s hands pulling it up to the scarf and you quickly tied his wrist to one end of it before you quickly did the same to the other wrist. You sat up off him, both your hands on his chest and you licked your lips looking at him with his hands tied up above his head and both his eyebrows raised. You smirked down at him as your fingers started to undo his buttons to his bare chest,

“That scarf was a gift from a designer in Paris. Be a good boy and don’t tug too hard on it, you’ll pull the thread.”

You lent down when his shirt fell open off him and licked over his nipple before kissing up to his neck, a groan leaving him and he bucked his hips up into you,

“You know you’re in trouble, don’t you sweetums?” you heard the amusement in his voice.

“And I know, sir, that you’ve you missed me too much to put up a fight and you just want your cock in me…” he let out a groan when you rolled your hips down on him. He pushed up against you again, and you nearly lost your balance. “Easy there,” you said with a grin.

You ran a hand down over his chest, tracing over his nipples with your fingertip, and lower, over his toned body. You felt the hitch in his breathing, and you raised yourself up to unfasten his pants, hooking your fingertips under the waistband, and pulling them down, taking his underwear with them, watching his big cock spring free, already rock hard. You made a show of looking at him admiringly, and took his length in your hand, rubbing softly. “Oh my…” you whispered, running your eyes up to his. “I almost forgot how big you are.” You gave him a sideways smile and a wink.

“Saddle up, sweetheart, I’ll remind you,” he said, his words a growl but his eyes twinkling. You squeezed him tighter and saw the way his jaw clenched.

“Saddle up and ride? This why they call your Racehorse?” you said, smirking, rubbing him with a twist in your wrist. He chuckled.

“You’re a little tease tonight, aren’t you?” he said, words wavering as you pumped your hand up and down. “You’re only denying yourself, my sweet…”

You moved to straddle his hips, pressing your wet core down onto him, letting the thick head of his cock trail through your folds. Both of you caught your breath, as you undulated your hips, pressing your clit against him, knowing how hot and wet the sensation would be for him. “Better stop teasing then, hadn’t I?” you whispered. “Be a good boy and play nice.” You felt him twitching as you lined yourself up with him and lowered yourself onto him, his cock spreading you open, until you were seated on him. He tried to thrust up into you right away, but you let your weight rest heavily on his hips, pressing down. “Eager, are we?”

“Haven’t fucked you in a month,” he said, his voice rough. “Want to fuck you so good…” He pushed up into you again, and you rode his hips this time, gasping slightly at the sensation of him filling you even deeper.

“Whoa, stallion,” you chuckled. “Don’t want me to fall off do you?”

“Hold on tight then, my love,” he said in response, pulling his hips down and thrusting back up again.

You put your hands on his chest and leaned forwards, putting your face closer to his, your breasts resting on his body. “Be a good boy and let me ride you until I get off…” you whispered.

He smiled. “And what’s my reward?”

You locked eyes with him. “I’ll untie your hands and let you show me how much you missed me.”

His expression darkened, and his smile was wicked now. “When you untie my hands, you’re in trouble, young lady.”

You gave him a naughty grin. “I know that,” you acknowledged, leaning in to brush his lips in a teasing kiss.

“You have a deal,” he growled.

You nodded, and sat back, his cock filling you once again. You slid one hand down your body, finding your swollen clit and starting to rub circles over it, as he planted his feet and started to move his hips rhythmically, pushing up to fill you completely with deep, slow strokes that let you feel every inch of him. You took your weight on your legs and met his thrusts, controlling the depth and pressure. You saw his eyes on your breasts, bouncing as he fucked you, and used your other hand to caress the swell of one breast, teasing your own nipple, knowing he was watching. “Like the view?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow. “Bet you wish it was your hands on me. But you can’t touch me, can you?”

That earned you a harder thrust, making you squeal and pitch forward, catching yourself with a hand on his chest. “Bad Racehorse,” you protested.

“Oh no, I’m very good,” he replied smoothly. You shook your head and returned to touching yourself, his eyes lingering where your hand moved between your thighs, and you learned back, giving him a show, as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm, waves of electricity shooting through your body with every thrust of his hips.

“Yes, just like that,” you moaned, encouraging to keep the same pace and depth. “Yes, you are good, so fucking good, I missed your fucking cock,” you breathed, the tension mounting low in your body.

“That’s it, come on, come on my cock,” he urged, and you could hear his arousal in his voice.

“I’m going to…oh, yes…” you cried, moving your hand faster until you rolled your hips down onto him frantically and the tension broke, pleasure sweeping through you, your body gripping him as you came hard, your free hand pressing against his body.

You stayed astride him, filled with him, as you recovered, breathing hard, your heart pounding, closing your eyes. He relaxed down onto the bed, moving his hips slightly beneath you, still twitching with his own unfulfilled need.

When your breathing had returned to nearly normal, you opened your eyes slowly, peering down into his face. You met a self-satisfied smile. “You looked pleased with yourself,” you said.

“I love watching you fall apart,” he purred. “I missed it. And that was quite the show.”

You couldn’t help a wide grin. He made you feel sexier than any lover had ever done before. No one had ever seemed to enjoy just looking at you, watching you take your own pleasure, in the way that he did. Still, you gave him a hostile stare. “It wasn’t for your benefit. That was me using you for my pleasure.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He paused. “But I’d be careful with that attitude.”

“Oh yeah?” Carefully, you slid off him, his cock still hard and proud, now shining with your wet arousal. You moved up the bed to kiss him teasingly on the lips. “What’re you going to do about it?” You ran your fingers up and down his arms, emphasising that they were still tied above his head.

“Why don’t you untie this scarf?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’ll find out.”

You looked into his eyes. “Is it safe to untie you, Racehorse? Will you be good?”

He chuckled darkly. “No promises.”

You bit your lip, the urge to find out exactly what he might do too much to resist. You reached up slowly and unfastened the scarf, backing away from him with it in your hand, and getting to you feet as he sat up, rubbing his wrists, a look of intent in his eyes. He sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned with one finger. You giggled, and took a few more paces away from him, daring him to chase you.

Racehorse stood up and fixed you with a determined gaze. “Four long weeks and you want to play games?” he demanded, walking towards you slowly.

You grinned, then squealed as he suddenly lunged at you, trying to duck out of his grasp, but you weren’t quick enough and he caught your arm in a strong grip, pulling you back against him in an instant. The heat of his body against yours made your arousal catch fire again. He kept his grip on your arm with one hand, as the other slid up your body to caress your breasts. You moaned at the feel of his hands on you. “Oh yes,” he murmured, his beard on the side of your neck. “All that teasing, but it doesn’t take much does it? To have you where I want you?”

His hand slid up from your chest to wrap softly around your throat, squeezing just a little. You bit your lip and leaned back against him. You moaned again, as he released your arm and put his other hand on you, exploring your body, squeezing and caressing your flesh and your curves, kissing the back of your neck until your knees felt weak. He nipped your earlobe, then whispered again. “Mine.” You breathed harder. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes.” The hand on your throat squeezed harder. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” Before you knew it, he’d pulled the scarf from your hand and thrown in on the floor, then he was pushing you irresistibly towards the bed, manhandling you onto your back. “It’s time I fucked you like you’re mine.” His eyes were dark, his face full of his desire for you. “You want that, sweetums?”

“I thought I was in trouble, sir?” you said, your tone cheeky.

He chuckled, his hand coming up to grip your chin and squeeze your face. “Oh, you are…” he said, eyes burning. Then he leaned forward, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “So far, I’ve been gentle, my sweet. Not tonight… Just say yes.”

You squirmed under him. “Yes. Fuck me, Racehorse.”

He leaned back, his hands going to your legs and pulling you down the bed, off the pillows. His hands clamped to the back of your knees, lifting them and pushing them back towards your ears, almost folding you in half as he took his weight on his hands over you, pressing your legs down. He wasted no time lining up with you, and thrusted his hips forwards hard, filling you completely, your whole body moving with the force of it. You gasped as he gripped your legs even harder, keeping them wide and pushed back as he started to fuck you. At this angle, every thrust hit the deep, tender spot inside you that was almost painful but also filled you with pleasure. He watched you almost wince with every thrust, struggling to keep your eyes open. “Too much?” he panted, his teeth gritted with the effort of his movements.

“No,” you managed. “Never too much, sir…”

“Such a good girl,” he managed, moving his weight above you more, so every thrust pushed you down into the bed, harder than he’d ever fucked you before. “Keep looking at me.” You forced yourself to keep your eyes open and on his, awestruck to see the power of his desire and to know it was focused on you. His pace was growing faster, your legs feeling the stretch as he pushed harder, keeping you in place as his hips started to really slam into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Racehorse. Yes, show me how much…” you encouraged him.

“I’m going to show you exactly how much, my filthy little girl. That’s it, take it, take it all,” he growled.

“Yes, sir, yes,” you panted, as he thrust deep into you and held himself there, his hot seed spilt inside you, his eyes fixed to yours as if he was surprised himself, at just how strong his feelings were.

You took several deep breaths, and he pushed up, sliding out of you, and unexpectedly moved down your body, his mouth capturing your clit, sucking and teasing urgently. You were close to the edge and pressed up against him. His hands were still on your legs, keeping them wide, as his tongue worked you closer and closer. Your second climax burst suddenly, and your cries of release filled the room, drowning out the wet sounds of his mouth between your thighs, licking you through each wave of pleasure.

As your body shuddered, and your heart pounded, he finally eased his grip on your legs, and lifted his head. You looked up at him weakly, seeing his smile. “Oh my god,” you said softly. “Is that what happens when I’m in trouble?”

He laughed, moving up the bed to lie beside you. You could see where his beard was wet. His long fingers stroked your face. “Well, that depends. Next time, I might put you over my knee and spank you.” You tried not to blush at the thought, which was more arousing that it had any right to be. He just smirked, reading you like an open book as he always did. “I can see you’re not going to start behaving yourself any time soon,” he concluded.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” you grinned.

He leaned in to kiss you softly. “Of course not.” His eyes were gentle now, and you saw genuine emotion in them. “I enjoy you just as you are.”

“The feeling’s mutual. I hated being away from you,” you confessed.

“Although you made up for it with tonight’s outfit…or lack of it,” he said. His hand stroked through your hair, as his eyes looked down at the stockings you were still wearing.

You smiled. “I thought you might approve.”

“Oh, I definitely do.” He rolled over onto his back, holding your hand in his. “Can you stay tonight?”

“Yes,” you said happily. “I made sure of it.”

“Good. What do you say I fill the bathtub and you join me?”

“We’re not sleeping yet?”

He propped himself up on one arm, his eyes twinkling. “My sweet, we have four weeks to make up for. We’re not sleeping for hours yet.”

Tags: @beccabarba @alwaysachorusgirl @nestorocetevas @ben-c-group-therapy @jemmakates

[thotsforvillainrights]

I’m not sure if you do matchups for OCs but I’m extremely curious. They aren’t really created for BNHA but I’ll try to give the best description that I can!

He has the ability to change his appearance to suit whatever situation he is in, however the most common traits are a small yet muscular stature with an appearance that suggests he is in his late 20s or early 30s. His face is often hidden via the use of various masks (his favourite being a piece of paper with a smiley face drawn on) so there’s nothing much to say there other than short, neat brown hair can sometimes be visible. His clothing choices often consist primarily of suits or sometimes woollen jumpers. He also doesn’t really have a dating preference when it comes to gender, though he does tend to be slightly more interested in men.

His personality can change along with his appearance so getting along with people is extremely easy for him. He can go from being extremely serious, humourless, distant and quiet: to then caring, fatherly, sweet and affectionate; only to then become loud, chaotic, funny and social. This isn’t done out of a desire to manipulate though. It’s done so that he is able to avoid rejection from others, which he is quite afraid of, and it’s even done subconsciously 99% of the time. Despite this fear, however, he tends to give off an air of confidence and can seem very approachable. He doesn’t really have many hobbies to speak of since he tends to focus most of his time working, but he does deeply enjoy people watching or walking around large cities or feeding birds in any nearby parks. He tends to enjoy singing as well, though he mostly does it while other people aren’t around.

This isn’t a very long description but I did my best to think of anything important. I’m sorry if it’s too short though.

(Sure I do! I looked back to check and I totally used to do it for OC's. The only thing I'd add for anyone reading this to maybe include a name or nickname for me haha. For this work I'll just refer to him as "OC", hope you like it!)

Match-Up #21

-I match him with Mummy-

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-The two of them likely met in the dead of the night. Makihara had mistaken him for one of his targets he'd been hired to take out. Given his ruthless practices as a mercenary, he'd attacked swiftly and without a second thought in his mind. Had the mask not fallen from OC's face then Makihara would've likely killed him on the spot. OC quickly picked up his mask and high tailed it out of there, clearly shaken up from the whole ordeal and secretly regretting his nighttime walking ritual. Makihara simply stood there and watched the man run off into the darkness of the night. He'd not only made his first big mistake on the job, but he'd also set into motion a chain of events that would lead to him breaking one of his most sacred rules: don't fall in love.

-Makihara developed a tendency towards basically stalking OC ever since Makihara caught a glimpse of them. It was distracting him from his usual business both with his clients and with helping Nine out as well. The only thing on his mind lately was that look of shock on a beautiful face illuminated underneath the pale shine of the full moon. Makihara spent his days trying to develop a speech to not only apologize but to also win over the heart of the man with the masks. So he stayed low and always kept vigilant. He learned OC's behavior, all of his mannerisms in a week or two's time. He noticed the way his personality shifted forms just as easily as he did. He wasn't a social butterfly yet he was at the same time. He was able to navigate his way through any conversation with any person he spoke to, often settling himself like molding clay to the person he was with in that moment. To Makihara he'd seemed like a huge people pleaser. If Chimera were here in the moment, he'd call it 'extreme ass kissing' and Slice would refer to it as manipulation. Neither of these were the case as Makihara would come to learn after he'd gotten into a relationship with OC. It taken perhaps a full month before Makihara decided to stage his 'accidental' running into OC on the streets. He'd toss away his pride and apologize without hesitation. OC had taken it with a grain of salt while still managing to make Makihara believe he trusted him fully. One apology date led to another, and still another that finally led into the full relationship.

-To OC, Mummy was a rather interesting person to be in a relationship with. The man always seemed to be at a loss for words whenever he'd viewed OC without a mask of sorts, and he also tended to stick around in silence as he watched OC work around the house on his off days. Mummy was always watching and sometimes sneering without even knowing. After a while OC had broken down to ask if Mummy hadn't truly liked him as much as he let off, and worry was very apparent on his face when asking this. Mummy had snapped out of his trance and stared at OC apologetically. "Sorry...I just stare and I'm not the best at expressing myself. To answer your question, you're the only person I tolerate more than anyone else." The conversation sloped downward after that. In translation: Mummy cared a great deal about OC and was just awful at expressing it. It was clear the longer the two of them stayed together however. Mummy had taken to hoarding some of OC's suits and jumpers, and claiming them as his own. "We're a couple yes? Then what's mine if yours and what's yours is mine" the man grumbled before wrapping himself up in yet another article of OC's clothing. Aside from this, Mummy also tended to offer for them to go on walking dates considering that's what he knew OC was most pleased with. He figured it would help getting the man's face out of work if he held the idea of walking over his head. OC accepted the offer every time and Mummy always felt rather accomplished afterward. Although he was silent and bad at expressing himself, sometimes Mummy would surprise OC by offering stern yet loving words of support. "Don't be afraid to show yourself whole around me. I love you as you are, no matter what flaws you may think you have." He wanted that mask off when OC was around him, both physical and metaphorical. He didn't want OC to think he needed to pretend to be accepted by him. Never in a million years.

-One of the most fulfilling moments of dating to Mummy was the day he accidentally heard OC singing to himself in the shower. He was organizing the mask drawer (no doubt an obvious act of love) when he'd heard a light humming from the bathroom. OC likely thought Mummy was out of the house and grabbing them a shared breakfast since that's what Makihara usually did in the mornings. He approached the bathroom door slowly and quietly before placing his ear over the door and listening closely. Masked ever so slightly by the shower water was a melody falling so sweetly from the lips of his lover. Mummy could've stood there all day and listened to the song if it hadn't been for the sound of the water shutting off abruptly and the shower curtain being moved to the side. Mummy reluctantly moved his head from the cold wooden door and quickly crept out of the house before OC could notice he was even there in the first place. Now he'd likely find this to be his new favorite activity of the mornings. Anytime he could catch a song being sung by his love, he'd stop and listen with the hopes that OC would someday be brave enough to sing it to him and for him.  

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Epilogue

AO3

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 35

This is the epilogue and final chapter. While there are some loose ends and I might write a sequel one day, I have currently have no plans for one so it would take some time. As it is I'm working on a Frozen TLH story (chapter 1-3 are currently published), and one post CoI story titled "We bury the sunlight" so look out for those.

Alastair decided to move in with Jem at the end of the summer. He had managed to finish decorating his bedroom just in time for the first week of university, which he was excited about starting. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d expected Jem to be overbearing and constantly worrying about his mental health. He’d always thought that was what a psychiatrist did, he guessed, just like his father had always feared Jem would know about his alcoholism from just looking at him.

He’d learnt that wasn’t the case. Jem was a doctor, he couldn’t read minds, and although he was there for Alastair when he needed him, he was family and not his doctor, which was an important distinction. Jem gave him lots of space, and the ground rules were mainly about keeping everything clean, which was no problem. Jem also preferred it to know if someone he didn’t know was visiting, but that rarely happened since Alastair only had a few friends and the only one who hadn’t known Jem before was Kamala.

It was nice, having so much space to himself. Jem had changed a lot about the house, it didn’t look like an exact copy of the house he’d lived in when he was very young. Cordelia and his mother still lived with Risa, with him gone it fit a bit better, but they were in the process of getting the house back.

He saw Thomas regularly, and they had sleep overs once a week. Alastair had bought a new double bed for his room mainly so they could share the bed. Thomas was currently adapting to student life, but had vowed to Alastair that he would not drink any alcohol. Alastair worried that would severely limit Thomas’ social life, but secretly he was very happy Thomas would do that for him. Lucie had also decided they would all start playing DnD with her, and although Alastair still didn’t understand much of the game, they had fun. Thomas, who had been in Lucie’s previous campaign as well, had helped him with his character. Right now, the group consisted of Lucie as the story teller, or dungeon master as the game called it, and Thomas, Cordelia, Kamala, Eugenia and him as the players. Alastair played a warlock, which he felt suited him. Warlocks also got nightmares they never asked for all the time and were constantly exhausted, not to mention they made deals with otherworldly beings. Perhaps it fit a little too well.

He’d also decided to take lessons in ballroom dancing, with Kamala as his dance partner at the student dance association. He almost had something that resembled a social life, which was both very new and very weird. As it was, they both were quite good at dancing. Kamala had taken two years of dance classes too, although it had been years, and together they could figure out what they remembered and how to do it. Both had been forced by their father at the time and it was much more enjoyable now that they’d chosen to pick it up again, not to mention it was nice having a dance partner he matched well with.

Thomas was still considering starting dancing, but finding a partner who was tall enough for him would be a struggle. Alastair could follow decently and dance with Thomas, although he still noticed the height difference, but with the lack of men in dancing most teachers would rather pair Thomas with the tallest girl available.

He felt like for the first time in years, he was sort of happy? Happier than he used to be at least. He still had nightmares, flashbacks, all that, and didn’t think it was going away anytime soon. If anything, EMDR made it harder, but that was to be expected. He’d known that during EMDR he’d have to talk about everything, and although in time that would make it better, at first it just brought everything to the surface. He’d learnt not to plan anything else on days he had EMDR, except maybe cuddling with Thomas.

Although relationships were still new to him, any relationships really, he was getting more accustomed to having people around who cared about him. Not just Thomas, but Lucie and Cordelia, who had just started their last year of school and came to him for help with their math homework, Kamala and Eugenia, who he’d been spending time with at the dance studio. He often visited the Lightwoods too, and he felt welcome there. Gideon and Sophie had made a habit out of inviting him along with any family outings. He’d never felt so welcome before, it had taken some time to work through that.

‘You’re going to love my gift, I promise.’

Tomorrow was Alastair’s nineteenth birthday, and Thomas was sleeping over the night before.

‘What is it?’ Alastair asked.

‘A surprise.’

‘It was worth a try,’ Alastair said. ‘How was your visit at Matthew today?’

Alastair had spoken to Matthew once. He didn’t think the two of them would ever be good friends, but they could move past school and tolerate each other’s presence. Thomas had spent the day with him today, shopping. Matthew apparently loved clothes even more than Alastair did, and had an unusual and extravagant taste.

‘Awkward,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘Why was it awkward?’

‘Well, he’s the only other man I know who is interested in men and has previous, uh, experience. So I figured I’d ask what to expect and what to do. It was a very uncomfortable conversation.’

Alastair started laughing. ‘You could have just asked me.’

‘I know, but I thought it would be nicer for you if I had some idea of what I’m supposed to be doing,’ Thomas said.

Alastair put his hand in Thomas’ hair. ‘That’s sweet.’

‘From now on I’ll be asking you my questions,’ Thomas said. ‘Of course, the internet has also been helpful.’

‘As long as you know where to get your information,’ Alastair said. ‘Porn isn’t real and not a good source. But I don’t mind if there’s things you don’t know yet, because I know enough.’

They had sex for the first time that night. Alastair felt it was the right time. Of course, having sex the night before his birthday wasn’t new to him. The previous years he’d spend with Charles ever since he’d turned sixteen. It was far better with Thomas. Not because of experience or anything like that, but because Alastair felt comfortable, because he was absolutely sure he wanted it and felt like he could ask Thomas to stop if he wasn’t comfortable anymore. Thomas was a little clumsy, but Alastair didn’t mind. He would get better at it with some practice.

The next morning, they went to the Victoria and Albert museum. It was early on a week day and neither of them had classes today. Thomas had been surprised at first by how empty his schedule was but had ultimately discovered much of his free time was spent on assignments and preparing for lectures and classes. Fortunately, it did mean they could easily plan such trips on times it wouldn’t be crowded. Alastair still didn’t like crowds and didn’t think he ever would. Thomas had grown over his fear of them, but he also preferred the quiet. It was much nicer this way, taking his time to let a piece of art wash over him, undisturbed by other visitors. Thomas made the occasional comment. He’d taken art history in school and could name the different styles and put works in the context of the time period. Alastair didn’t say much in response, just nodded. He felt he didn’t have to.

Thomas had promised him his gift after coming back from the museum, and Alastair was starting to get curious. Thomas had hidden the gift somewhere in Jem’s house, so Alastair wouldn’t even be able to guess from the shape. He hadn’t bothered to look for it, but had been tempted. As much as he liked the small smile on Thomas’ lips as he said ‘not yet, mi Cielo,’ Alastair was not fond of surprises. He liked to know what to expect with a three to five workdays advance notice for anything out of the usual.

‘You’d think no one has ever given you a birthday gift before,’ Thomas said. He paused. ‘Wait, is that it? Did you not usually receive gifts?’

‘No, I did, from my mother and sometimes Cordelia.’

Charles too, Charles had had a habit of giving him expensive gifts. Or gifts he’d found among his mother’s things, he guessed. Alastair had not seen him again now that he was back in London, for which he was grateful. Gideon had spoken with Charles and told him he knew what he’d done and wasn’t welcome at his house anymore. Apparently Charles had been very angry about that, but Gideon had told Alastair he was welcome anytime and it was his responsibility to guarantee his safety. Alastair appreciated that.

‘Have you been asking them about it all this time too?’ Thomas asked.

‘No just you. But you made a big deal out of it by hiding it someplace here,’ Alastair said.

‘Alright, I guess you can open it,’ Thomas said, who left and came back to the living room carrying a very big box.

Alastair carefully opened the wrapping paper, making sure nothing tore. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but he’d always opened gifts this way, as if he intended to reuse the paper, something he’d never done.

‘I thought, with how impatient you were, you’d rip it all apart,’ Thomas said.

‘No,’ Alastair said.

‘You can rip it, it’s no problem,’ Thomas said as Alastair was struggling to get a piece of sticky tape off without damaging anything.

‘No,’ Alastair said, even more determined to get everything off properly.

Once he’d gotten it open and folded away the colorful wrapping paper, Alastair revealed something that resembled a hamster cage, but bigger. There were two floors, the top open and the bottom offering a little more darkness with a little home in there an animal could hide in. There was a wheel, several balls, and a little hedgehog plushie.

‘I know you were planning to get a pet hedgehog, so I researched what it needs. This has most things it needs to live in, you just might need to add a heat lamp because hedgehogs need a warm environment.’

‘I’d been looking into what I’d need too,’ Alastair said. ‘Jem is alright with me getting a hedgehog as long as I make sure to keep Church away from him. That shouldn’t be a problem, as I would put the hedgehog in my bedroom and Church doesn’t go there.’

‘How is Church?’ Thomas asked.

‘Usually, he is wherever I’m not. He doesn’t come into my bedroom. In the living room it can be a bit more of a struggle, as he likes to claim his space, and no matter where I sit, he gets upset because that’s the spot he wanted for himself. The only moment he tolerates me is when I’m accompanying Jem on the piano.’

Alastair had picked up playing music again after years and he tried to practice for half an hour daily. Sometimes with Thomas, singing his songs and playing more modern music. But he also played classical music with Jem, who was exceptional at the violin. Jem could probably have been a concert violinist if he hadn’t chosen to become a doctor instead.

‘Sounds like Church,’ Thomas said. ‘He won’t be a danger to your hedgehog, will he?’

‘I will keep my hedgehog in my bedroom,’ Alastair said. ‘If I make sure to keep the door closed when I’m not there, I think it’s unlikely Church will even go there. Even then there’s a cover for this hedgehog home and a little house for him to hide, and of course a hedgehog can roll into a little ball of quills. I think it’ll be fine. And my therapist thought it might be good for me to get a pet, as long as I am confident I can care for it of course. Now, can you help me think of a name? I’m not great with names.’

‘You and Cordelia have been arguing about baby names for weeks now,’ Thomas pointed out.

‘Yes, the baby should have a beautiful Persian name,’ Alastair said. ‘For pets it’s different.’

‘Or dnd characters,’ Thomas added.

‘So what if my character has my middle name?’

‘No, I like it,’ Thomas said. ‘Esfandiyar. It’s a beautiful name. For a pet I think a shorter name is better. I think your plushie hedgehog is called Mr. Prickly?’

‘I named him when I was a child,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m not naming my pet something stupid.’

‘No little pipsqueak?’ Thomas said with a grin.

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘Absolutely not.’

***

‘You mean to say you forgot to buy Alastair a gift for his birthday?’ Lucie asked.

‘I didn’t forget,’ Cordelia said. ‘I planned to do it today, after school. How was I supposed to know I was going to get detention?’

They entered the bookstore, certain she could find something Alastair would like here.

‘Sorry I couldn’t get you out,’ Lucie said. ‘Even my dad can’t do that, but he knows it was completely unfair.’

Cordelia shrugged. ‘I finished my homework. But I’m still pissed.’

She knew teachers tended to be harsher on her, Alastair had always had the same problem, and she usually made a point to behave but she also wasn’t going to let people just walk over her girlfriend. So what if she’d gotten into a fight with a bully? He’d started it, but that’s not how the teacher who’d broken them apart saw it.

‘Alastair will understand,’ Cordelia added. ‘He was often sent to detention unfairly too. Now, which of these books do you think he’ll like?’

‘Both seem pretty good,’ Lucie said. ‘What are they about?’

‘This one’s called Malice, and is a Sleeping Beauty retelling focused on Alyce, the dark grace with powers similar to the original evil witch who cursed the princesses, and she might be the villain but she might also fall in love with Aurora. I haven’t read it, but it sounds awesome. The other is Girl, Serpent, Thorn.’

‘Oh, didn’t I lend you that one last year?’

‘Yes,’ Cordelia said. ‘It was awesome and the cover is so beautiful I wanted my own copy. I think Alastair will like it too, the world is inspired by Persian culture and the Shahnameh, which he loves, and the story is very good too.’

Girl, Serpent, Thorn was probably one of her favorite books, and Cordelia ultimately decided to buy it for herself while buying Malice for Alastair. He could always borrow the other book from her, she just wanted to reread it several times and have the gorgeous cover on display.

‘I doubt Alastair minds we’re late,’ Cordelia said. ‘He’s been spending the day with Thomas.’

Cordelia sometimes envied the amount of free time Alastair had compared to her. She hoped it would be the same once she went to university. Of course, Alastair had his memory, he only had to read everything once and he would remember forever. He could save so much time that way.

It still struck her as odd how they didn’t understand Alastair’s memory. Lucie was the way she was because her grandfather was the thief of souls. Same for Tessa, who’d gotten some of her power back after his death. Thomas had the sight because his mother did, and Kamala had healing powers because a fairy had given them to her. But no one knew why Alastair was the way he was. Cordelia knew it still frustrated him, not understanding.

‘I can’t wait until I can go to university,’ Lucie said. ‘I am so done with physics.’

‘Why did you take physics?’ Cordelia asked.

‘No clue,’ Lucie said. ‘I’ll survive another year. Then it’s English literature and creative writing.’

Cordelia wished she knew what she was going to study. Half her biology class was already working on their med school applications, but Cordelia had no clue yet. At least she couldn’t really picture herself as a doctor. Part of her still wanted to be a hero, but what if like Jem she decided to retire early? Being a hero didn’t exactly pay, and it was good to have some education. She just didn’t know what. She knew, of course, it was fine to choose wrong at first. Alastair had realized being a politician wasn’t for him, and was again starting in his first year.

‘At least Alastair promised to help me with my math homework,’ Cordelia said.

Cordelia and Lucie took the metro and arrived at Jem’s house. She’d been here frequently since the summer, and it already felt like Alastair’s house. She’d considered moving in herself too, but felt like she was still too young to move away from her mother and would rather stay for now.

Alastair and Thomas were in the living room, where an animal home was standing on the table next to a bit of neatly folded wrapping paper, not a tear in sight. Alastair had always been a little obsessive in the way he opened gifts. The wrapping paper would be thrown away, yet he always opened it with such a care and he never ripped anything.

‘Happy birthday,’ she said, hugging her brother.

He’d grown more comfortable with physical affection lately, and for Cordelia it felt like it had become easier to reach him. She’d had to get used to not living in the same house as him at first, but Alastair seemed happier here.

‘Thank you,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m officially on the waiting list for a pet hedgehog. It might take some time, but I have some of the supplies I need now. I am open to name suggestions as I have not thought of anything yet.’

‘Pipsqueak!’ Lucie called out.

‘Oddly, you’re not the first person to suggest that,’ Alastair said. ‘No, I am not naming my pet Pipsqueak.’

‘That’s because I already call Alastair that,’ Thomas said.

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘My hedgehog will have a serious name, not something a toddler would have chosen.’

They didn’t settle on a name yet that evening. Lucie kept suggesting the kind of names Alastair meant to avoid as a joke, and Eugenia did the same when she and Kamala arrived. Kamala had a few good suggestions, and Alastair decided to look into Persian pet names.

Cordelia started feeling like things would be alright again, like things would be normal. Of course, she could never be sure. Tatiana had not turned up again, Gideon had reported her missing and so far the police had no leads. Cordelia didn’t think they’d find her, and she wondered if Tatiana would come back. There was no chance she could bring back her son, not anymore, but Cordelia feared she might want revenge. Right now, she tried not to worry. She would be prepared, yes, but she would also continue to live her life, go to school, worry about things normal girls her age should be worried about. Alastair seemed to be doing a little better as well, although she knew his EMDR days were hard. He was playing music again, and Cordelia loved to listen to him play the piano while she was here.

‘Do you want to play something?’ Cordelia asked at some point, gesturing to the piano.

‘Of course,’ Alastair said. ‘Thomas, I need your help.’

‘I didn’t bring my guitar,’ Thomas said nervously.

‘I don’t need you to play, I need you to turn the page of the sheet music. One of these days I’m going to make a copy and tape this piece together, but it’s 5 pages long.’

Cordelia would always be impressed at how fast Alastair could move his fingers over the keys. He’d tried to teach her when she was younger and she could play some simple melodies with her right hand only, but she’d never gotten the hang of playing with two hands.

‘I recognize this,’ Lucie said when Alastair was finished. ‘I think it’s in Pride and Prejudice. The one with Colin Firth.’

‘That’s possible, it’s well known. The Turkish March by Mozart,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ve been practicing this for the past week.’

‘It’s lovely,’ Cordelia said. ‘I missed hearing you play.’

‘And now you only get to listen when you’re here,’ Alastair said apologetically.

‘I’m here several days a week anyway,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’m glad you’re playing again.’

‘I forgot how much I loved it,’ Alastair said. ‘But I’m happy too. Even Church likes it when I play.’

Cordelia noticed the cat was sitting up from his spot on the couch, listening intently as Alastair started playing something else. Church might hate everyone and everything, but he loved Jem and he loved music.

Thomas continued to do his job as page turner and Cordelia could see the adoration in his eyes as he watched Alastair play. She was glad they’d been able to work it out and were still together, Alastair deserved that.

When Alastair was finished, Lucie decided to present her gift, which was a story she’d written herself in an insanely short time. Cordelia had read it and helped her edit, but the premise was that it was Frozen but with Alastair and Cordelia as the main characters.

‘I’m going to read it as soon as I have the time,’ Alastair promised. ‘This sounds brilliant.’

[keytomythoughts]

Eleutheromania | Chapter 01

Chapter Index

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

It wasn’t long that my boyfriend Lucas had been drafted for mandatory military service. Days had stretched to weeks, and weeks prolonged to months. The society we live in doesn’t give young men, especially those living in sectors where serving is compulsory, the luxury to bypass this duty. 

I had been with Lucas since his name was first registered as those fit to serve Neo City. At the age of twenty, he had submitted his draft forms as required by the royal family, being selected from the pool the following year. Lucas, already twenty-two now, didn’t escape the clutches of this system. In fact, he was chosen earlier, having only one year of peace before receiving a notice from the officials that he was required to leave to the military immediately. 

Knowing the kind of ruling established by this fruitful city, I understood the time away Lucas would spend from me. It wasn’t ideal, nor was it fair, but I wasn’t one to complain. I loved him, and I would wait for him, regardless if he came now or far into the future. Yet, when I walk around the apartment we share where his oversized hoodies and sweats lay scattered around our bedroom and his heavy cologne hangs in the foreboding silence, I can’t help but feel the pang of loneliness, craving the love and touch from the man I hold so dearly.

Today is one of those days. Days where I long for Lucas to be home, to have him embrace me in his tight grasp, curling up on the couch and staying there for hours while talking and eventually falling asleep with us still locked in each other’s arms. 

Having to serve in the military was tough already, but nothing would’ve ever prepared me for the sacrifice and patience I would have to exhibit just anxiously waiting for him to come home safe and sound. 

Pulling on one of his oversized hoodies, I lay down in his side of the bed. Tangling myself within the many sheets that hold the strong, sweet scent of his cologne. The ocean breeze with a touch of pine. His smell is exotic, alluring. It alone is one of the only things keeping Lucas’ presence alive in our abode. Remembering the times we cherished each other in ways that would leave us breathless and immensely pleasured. 

My phone lights up on the nightstand nearby, and I sluggishly reach out from within the cavern of our bed sheet and pillows to grab it. I pause for a moment to view my lock screen, a picture of the two of us when we first started dating. It was during autumn when we walked down a trail of beautifully colored leaves all scattered about on the ground beneath us, the sun angled to cast its luminous glow on our figures. At that moment, Lucas insisted on giving me a piggyback ride, concerned at how tired I might’ve been for walking so long—even though I refused a countless number of times. 

And with my cheek resting on top of his head, this picture was born. Our eyes twinkling at that time of day, his large orbs burning a vibrant gray and mine a soft emerald. My dark brown hair nearly frozen because of the exposure to the chilly air, yet his remained a lustrous and thick black. And his smile. That perfect, beautiful smile that brings out the subtlety of his dimples never fails to make my heart skip a beat, the world and all its troubles pausing for just the briefest of moments when his lips pull back to reveal his pearly-white shine. 

One of my most favorite and treasured memories, that’s for sure. 

I squint at the single notification, the corners of my lips tugging upwards in a small smile. It was from Lucas. How he manages to secretly text while on active duty still both worries and surprises me. 

         Jae, baby, are you still awake?

My cheeks slightly burn, my fingers slowly typing my reply:

                It’s only 6 in the evening, Lucas. 

        You sleep at random hours of the day, love.

I couldn’t disagree with that, but with Lucas gone, it was hard to fall asleep. Whenever my eyes would close, I would only see him. His enormous, twinkling orbs that make my heart swirl in my chest, his captivating smile that even an angel would be put to shame, and his soft, gentle touch that would make me feel secure and loved. Everything, just every tiny detail about him is etched into my memory. That made me miss him even more. It’s been a year since I’ve last been with him physically, the days passing now making it seem more and more unbearable to be without him. 

I find my eyes rapidly blinking, but I use my sleeve to wipe the forming tears away. Instead, I focus my attention back on Lucas’ messages.

                How’s the military training going? You’re not hurt, are you?

        Me? Hurt? Jaeun-ah, are you losing faith in your sexy, strong boyfriend?

The burning intensifies as I keep the conversation going:

                It’s not my fault I’m worried, Lucas. You know how the military is :(

        Jagi, I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about, promise. 

A small sigh of relief exhales my parted lips. Lucas may be everything, but he’s definitely not a liar. I drift off in thinking that I fail to notice Lucas already typing another message:

        I miss you, baby.

My lips curl into a sad smile, my head simultaneously burying deeper into the pillows beneath me. The hoodie covers the lower half of my face in the process, the musky scent of my boyfriend filling my senses with pure nostalgia. 

                I miss you more. When are you gonna come home?

His message bubble appears and disappears for a couple of seconds. Without even having to send me a written reply, I already knew what that meant. Just then, he sends a reply:

        It’s hard to tell right now. I’m sorry, I know I told you I was going to come home soon, but they’re making me stay longer. My captain’s trying to get me out of it, but it’s apparently out of his hands. :/ 

My heart sinks in my chest. How much I missed Lucas…

                Babe, it’s okay. I’m okay as long as you’re okay. I’ll always wait for you, no matter what. You know that <3  

        You have no idea how badly I want to come home to you and your pretty face. God, I miss you so freaking much. It’s not fair I got to spend only a year with you.

                I know, but this is what you have to do, and I’ve come to terms with it...

        Really?

                Fine, not really. But, I still miss you. And your hugs. And your smile. And just everything.

        Aww, I’m betting you’re in bed wearing my clothes again, right?

I take this moment to take a quick selfie, pouting. I send it instantly.

                Guilty >-<

        You do look cute in my hoodie though...damn it, you’re making it hard for me to stay here when all I wanna do is cuddle with you all day :(

                Then hurry up and complete your service so you can, babe.

        Thinking of you every day is what’s keeping me going, Jaeun <3

My smile reappears, this time a few tears escaping the pools in my eyes. I sniffle, attempting to reply to his text, but he sends another one right after:

        Hey, babe, I’m so sorry, but I have to go. We have to make rounds and Cap can’t stall for long. 

I wipe my tears again, finding the keys through my semi-blurred vision.

                Yeah, sure. Stay safe, Lucas. Talk to you later.

        Just wait a little longer, babe. I’ll be home soon, I promise. I love you, Jaeun <3 And no crying, princess. 

How did he..? Perplexed, I waste no time in responding:

                Who said anything about crying?

        Baby, I know you. I can read you as clear as day. Save those tears for when I come home ;) 

I sniffle a couple more times before the tears eventually dry up. 

                Fine, but only because I love you, babe.

        And I even more. Take care, princess.

                Bye <3 

Sighing, I sink even deeper into the soft cushioning the bed provides, finding some way to fill the void of Lucas’ absence. But to no luck. I place my phone back on the nightstand and lay still, the only noise coming from the soft ticking of the clock. Turning my gaze to the left-side window, my eyes are fixated on the sunset, the sky bathed in warm colors of dusty rose to peach-orange. 

Sunsets remind me of him the most. The crystal-clear shade of gray reminds me of his eyes. The large orbs that are always filled with love and wonder, the small glint in them shimmering like the soft yellow of the setting sun. 

Just simply breathtaking.

And yet, here I am, observing this one, again, without him by my side.

Prologue | Chapter 01 | Chapter 02 |

[knives-out20]

Knocking Boots - Captain Jack Sparrow x Male!OC

Fandom: Pirates Of The Caribbean (2003-2017)

Pairing: Riley Blackwell (OC) x Captain Jack Sparrow

Warnings: !NSFW!, Smut obviously, Swearing, Faggotry, Praise kink, Jack literally being the king of consent, Gay horny pirates need I say more, Dick stuff but y’know its a given, They have a safe word and safe action guys seriously we’re fine, Dirty talking AND sweet talking,

Notes: If you see this, no you didn’t. Riley doesn’t always bottom, because trust me y’all Jack is JUST as much of a pillow princess as Riley can be, especially if he’s ‘too lazy to do all the work’. I’ll probably delete this SO FAST LMFAOOO I haven’t done this since that shitty Joshua x Aldo one months ago, I literally swore off writing smut after that but I deadass couldn’t help myself. This isn’t placed in a specific movie/between specific movies, so go wild with when you think this is. No spellcheck, we die like men.

Jack and Riley hung around the captain’s cabin of the Black Pearl, Jack sat at the table and Riley standing against a wall. 

Riley inhaled slowly, though sadly his lack of scent blocked him from smelling the rum, the salty sea, and other such smells that every other pirate was long used to.

“Y’know doing that doesn’t really do anything for you, mate” Jack reminded, eyes on his closed compass. “You lost your sense of smell many moons ago, if y’even ever had it.”

Riley pushed himself off of the wall, standing up straight. “Thank you, Captain obvious” he teased, glancing over at Jack and giving him a grin.

Jack returned his gaze, eyebrows raising as he showed Riley a fake smile. “Watch it, love.”

Riley softly arched a brow, left pointer and middle finger padding at his neck. “Bit strange, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

Riley pulled a sturgeon face. “Usually, we’re being pulled this way ‘n’ that, up, down, sideways, left, right, everywhere in bloody death-defying ventures. But now...we’re not on the verge of dying. I’m not losing you, you’re not losing me, we’re not out looking for something, we’re finally getting some damned peace” he explained. “Not that I’m complaining, it’s a relief to finally not be worrying about your well-being, but then again...I’m not used to not bloody worrying.”

Jack chuckled airily. “Finally have me safe ‘n’ sound, and you’re annoyed about it?”

“I bloody said I wasn’t complaining-”

“I’m teasing, rose” Jack cut Riley off. He took off his hat, setting it aside on the table. “Quite nice, isn’t it? Running this way and that is tiresome, sometimes, even I’ll admit” Jack confessed, steadily standing up. He shrugged off his dark coat, placing it over his chair. “More time with you, alone. Or at all, both is fine, honestly.”

Riley crossed his arms, his blue eyes being one (or, well, two) of the brightest things in the room as he watched Jack advance on over. Once Jack came close enough, he grabbed the Captain’s narrow hips and pulled him closer, head tilted slightly. 

“There’s that needy attitude again.”

“Shut it” Riley whispered, leaning in a bit. “I ever tell you how breathtaking you are under the candlelight?”

“Aye. You usually say that under any light, actually” Jack shrugged.

“Because it’s bloody true, dear” Riley shook his head, gaze and smile melting into an expression of hopeless love.

Jack admired Riley for a moment, before asking him something. “Can I kiss you?”

Riley clicked his tongue, nodding. “Always” he whispered.

Jack gently cupped Riley’s cheek, the familiar prickling of Riley’s designer stubble on his palm giving him a sense of safety; of home. His thumb subconsciously starting stroking Riley’s cheek, an automatic thing he happened to do. Jack couldn’t quite place why, maybe it was a reminder to himself that Riley is still there with him and isn’t planning on going anywhere, or maybe it’s just his need to feel Riley under his touch. Either way, he simply couldn’t get enough.

“I’m sorry, I’m expecting a kiss right now, if you’re still up for it” Riley joked, tapping his bottom lip with his right pointer finger.

Jack playfully rolled his eyes, leaning in and pressing his lips to Riley’s. One with a less homey sense to it, as it was obviously more romantic and intimate. Being with everything Riley and him had been through, Jack secretly cherished each and every kiss they shared, no matter the setting nor where the kiss was placed. 

Who knows when a simple kiss could be their last?

Jack pulled Riley close to him with both hands, in a low-key way, feeling safe enough to close his eyes and savor in the moment. Feeling safe around someones energy is a different kind of intimacy than the one that most people are used to, one that he believes only Riley and him have. 

Riley loved kissing Jack, because kissing him never felt like something on his to-do list (though, Jack was constantly at the top of Riley’s to-do list), or a chore. He never felt as if he had to kiss Jack because the two are romantically involved, like he had with men who weren’t Jack. Kissing Jack, to Riley, was that of a fun activity, or a reward for finding the one, so to speak.

Jack’s lips were on the smaller, rounder side, his lips are full, too. He doesn’t take much care of them, more-so himself, but Riley knew them to be softer than a warm bed. Then Riley’s were the complete opposite in looks: wide, and a little on the thinner side. Riley took better care of himself than Jack did with himself, but Riley will reluctantly admit that his lips are a bit dry, most nights. Jack still loved them all the same.

Despite the listless differences between their attributes, Jack’s and Riley’s lips fit ever so perfectly when they kiss. As if they were carved from the same stone, or made for each other. 

Every piece of their bodies were perfectly made for each other, it seemed. Riley’s hand could fit perfectly when holding Jack’s. Jack could wrap himself around Riley and they would fit like two pieces of a puzzle. Riley could place his hand on Jack’s neck and it wouldn’t be too big or too small.

And in this moment, it was their lips that fit each other. Riley kissed Jack as he held the Captain, recalling the idea that his hands were made for holding Jack in any way, shape, or form, he just fit so perfectly. He tasted the rum on Jack’s lips, like it was the only thing he ever could- or wanted to- taste. After all, both Jack’s lips and rum gave Riley a major sugar rush-like feeling.

Jack pulled away from the kiss for air, keeping his lips against Riley’s. “Can you bloody take this off?” He inquired, in more of an actual questioning tone than the pleading tone anyone would expect to hear in the given situation. Jack tugged at Riley’s black coat, specifically the collar despite meaning the clothing item as a whole.

Riley nodded, pulling his hands away from Jack’s person to pull the coat clean off and toss it onto a nearby chair. What was under that coat was always the same, a long-sleeved black button-up with a red double-buttoned waistcoat over that. Sometimes just the waistcoat, unless Riley felt cold. Silence followed, and he arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you gonna ask me to take these buggers off, too?” Riley asked, tugging his waistcoat and button-up.

Jack gulped. “Only if y’want to. I’d never force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to, mate. Willingly, of course.”

Riley cooed, reconnecting his lips to Jacks as he worked on unbuttoning his waistcoat. Most would think that oh, double the buttons, double the amount of time. But Riley’s grown accustomed to taking off his waistcoat that it’s second nature, he’s very quick at it nowadays. He pulled away from Jack to work it off, folding it and holding it in one hand. “Could you be-rid of this, for me?” He tapped Jack’s smaller, unbuttoned waistcoat, which was forgotten in a flash with how fast Jack took it off, after his belt, weapons, and any other effects. Riley chuckled, “needy much?” He teased, throwing his waistcoat onto a table.

“Shut up” Jack scoffed, the both of them unbuttoning their shirts.

“Can I kiss you, now?” Riley slid his hand over Jack’s lower back, pulling him closer for some skin-on-skin action.

Jack pressed his forehead against Riley’s, smirking. “You may.”

Riley’s other hand found the back of Jack’s neck, cradling the back of his head. He inched closer, kissing Jack for the third time. It was hungrier than the others, now that Jack and Riley both knew that the other knew exactly what they wanted.

Jack pulled away, cupping Riley’s cheek and talking against his other one. “Can I go down on you?” He purred, neediness showing at this point but he’d shut it off like a switch if Riley were to seem the least bit uninterested. 

Riley nodded, turning and pushing Jack onto the bed. He crawled on top of him, grunting when Jack flipped them around.

Jack straddled Riley down, using one hand to pull off his faded, red bandanna. He set the bandanna aside, along with the deer shinbone that usually stuck out of it. “Can we try it like this tonight?” Jack questioned, gesturing to how he was currently on top of Riley. “Let me take care of you, love.”

Riley hummed, nodding. He watched Jack intently, propping himself onto his elbows as the Captain took off his pants. Riley followed suite, until his rings weren’t even on his hands and Jack wasn’t wearing any bracelets. 

Jack pinned Riley down to the bed, face disappearing to the crook of his scarred neck. “I could stay here all bloody day” he mumbled, fluttering kisses down Riley’s neck. “All I ever want to do, Rye, is- is run me hands through your hair, all damned day, and kiss your beautiful neck” he admitted, inhaling Riley’s secure musk.

Riley tilted his head up, smiling lazily. “Anything else?”

“Oh, darling, why tell you when I could easily show you?” Jack hummed, fingers dancing down the side of Riley’s body like he had a million times before, knowing his partner better than the back of his hand. He continued his gifts of loving kisses, trailing down Riley’s body, his way of admiring his own work of art.

Riley’s fingers smoothly tangled into Jack’s dreads, course fingers in the soft locks always giving him a feeling like solace. He tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling in content, quite glad that a majority of the work didn’t befall onto him tonight.

Jack worked his way back up to Riley’s neck, becoming more and more touchy by the second. He pressed against Riley hungrily, biting down on a safe spot on Riley’s neck.

Riley grunted quietly, eyelids fluttering as Jack did what he did best.

“What do you want, Riley?” Jack urged, ready to stop if Riley were to give a signal. His hand met Riley’s dick, thumb softly stroking. “Tell me what you want.”

Riley dug a hand into Jacks hair, having been worked up very quickly. “You,” he breathed, all his senses practically overloading with his need for Jack. “You, Jack. Please.”

Jack chuckled lowly, pulling Riley’s hand away from him and pulling away, himself.

Riley’s blue eyes followed Jack’s every distinct move, as the man went to go get some aloe vera and come back.

Jack took a bit of the gel, rubbing it onto his hands. “What’s our safe word again, love?” He asked, eyebrows raised expectantly. Jack assumed Riley remembered their safe word.

“Wicked.” Riley answered obediently.

“And safe action?”

Riley pat the bed three times, doing so again with his hand furled into a fist. “If I pat the bed three times, fist or not.”

“Aye” Jack nodded, proudly. He maintained eye contact with Riley as he lathered his dick up with the aloe vera gel, breathing at a ragged pattern as his mind raced with ideas of all that he could do to Riley. “Do you still want this?”

Riley nodded eagerly, long used to Jack’s constant inquiries on whether he still wanted to do something or not. “I want you, Jack-”

“How badly?”

“So bloody bad” Riley licked his lips slowly, eyeing Jack like always.

Jack grinned, “good boy.” He praised, covering two fingers in the gel and teasing them around Riley’s entrance.

Riley squirmed a bit beneath him, having never gotten used to the feeling. His movements were less jerky than they were when Jack and him first started having sexual escapades, but he wouldn’t lie, it was always uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?” 

Riley nodded, reaching up and tucking Jack’s dreads behind his shoulders; this gave him a clearer view of Jack’s face. AKA a sight that none of the seven wonders of the world could ever even begin to compare to. “Always feels weird, is all.”

Jack nodded back at him, tossing the aloe vera aside and wiping his fingers. He lined himself up with Riley, pausing to simply stop and stare down at Riley. And this was far from being meant to be taken in a creepy way, Jack must say. He, cliche enough, always caught himself gazing at Riley on various occasions, ever since he was 18. Something about Riley was just so enrapturing, Jack swears he’d choose exploring Riley Blackwell and all that he is, over any sea or ocean, any day.

But enough of that, now.

Jack glanced down at his view of Riley below-the-waist, seeing Riley was just about as hard as he is. He hummed- intriguing. Nonetheless, there was work- well, a pirate- to be done. Jack exhaled quietly, locking eyes with Riley. “Ready?”

“Yes” was all Riley gave Jack, which is exactly what he needed to hear. With Riley, he always needed the presence of a ‘yes’ rather than the lack of a ‘no’, that always made what they did so much more enjoyable for him. 

Jack winked down at him, slowly sliding into his beloved.

Riley sucked in his breath upon impact, shoulders rising slightly.

Jack knew that was a good sign, so he slowly pushed his length into Riley. At that point in time, he knew full and well Riley could take all of it. “Is this okay?” Jack asked in a hushed tone, droplets of concern sprinkled over the inquiry. 

Riley nodded, relaxing into the activity. “I like that” he answered, repeating it mindlessly when Jack began thrusting softly. 

Jack smiled once more, hips thrusting against the underside of Riley’s smooth thighs. He decided to show mercy on Riley and go slowly throughout, after all he did say he wanted to take care of Riley tonight. If Jack hadn’t said that, he would have been sure to make Riley like how he was when Jack first met him: stuttery, shivery, and overall not like he usually is now. It’s a wonderful sight. “Do you want me to stop?” He piped up.

“Don’t stop,” Riley’s fingers curled, gripping the bed sheets but not in any way that expressed pain. “Don’t stop, don’t bloody stop, please” he begged, music to Jack’s ears.

“Feel good, eh?” Jack pushed, feeling a bit cocky but holding himself back from going any faster than Riley would’ve wanted him to. “Does this feel good?” He reworded.

“Feels so good, Jack” Riley mewled, putty beneath the Captain.

Jack grunted under his breath, brown eyes darting over very square inch of Riley’s body that was in his direct view. He had memorized it a thousand times over, but this was one treasure he was never tired of having, of holding, of looking at. But unlike any treasure, Riley’s a person, a human being. Not some shiny object. In Jack’s mind, he’d call Riley ‘treasure’, but he was sure that Riley’s so much more than that. 

“Jack,” Riley moaned, head tilting up, eyes falling closed as he swore softly.

Jack was pulled back down to reality when Riley called him, unknowingly speeding up his thrusts. “Yea, darling?”

“Can you go slower-?”

Jack gulped, nodding and immediately slowing his rhythm. “Sorry- got ahead of me-self” he apologized, reaching down and cupping Riley’s cheeks. “That better?”

“Right there, yes” A sedated smile slid onto Riley’s inviting lips, giggling airily. “More.”

“You look so pretty when you ask for more” Jack praised once more, thumb stroking at a leisurely pace. “You’re doing so well, Riley.” He added, the satisfaction on Riley’s face telling him more than enough. Jack traced one hand down Riley’s torso, grabbing his dick like before. 

Riley’s breath hitched when he felt Jack begin to pump, fingers stroking and squeezing down below. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, more than bloody okay, fuck-”

Jack chuckled, thrusting into Riley in a recurrent pace as his hand went to work at doing something he happened to do best: pleasing Riley. He was brought to cloud 9 as his waist swayed back and fourth, Riley mumbling “I’m close” ringing a bell in his head. “Hm?”

“I’m close, Jack” Riley repeated, head turned to the side.

Jack let go of Riley, leaning in and invading Riley’s personal space to sloppily kiss his neck. He bit down, tugged at skin, left a few marks, doing what he knew Riley would like. As long as Jack’s ears were being met with Riley moaning, groaning, and calling out his name, he was far from stopping. “Come for me, dear. Come for me, Riley.”

***

Jack collapsed beside Riley, the only noise in the air being their heavy panting and the sea rocking against the boat, like their bed had been against the wall. He tiredly reached an arm out, grabbing Riley and tugging him closer. 

Riley wrapped his body around Jack, mind falling back to earth from the nirvana it had just reached. “That was so...good” he slurred.

Jack exhaled through his nose, staring blankly at the wall. “You told me that one too many times” he teased, not denying that he was happy.

“Shut up” Riley breathed, smiling against Jack’s bare neck. “I love you” he told, breath heavy as his eyelids felt.

Jack’s smile grew from ear to ear, holding Riley close to his person. “I love you too, Riley.”

[jaysworlds]

i have gerrymichael brain rot

It’s dark outside, or as dark as it ever gets in London, a cold, winter chill in the air, and Gerry’s eager to get home, back to the warm sanctuary of his apartment.

It is his apartment, though only in name. Michael is there more often than not, his clothes taking up space in the wardrobe, his soaps piled in the bathroom cabinets, his voice drifting from room to room.

Gerry loves it. Loves him. Loves all the tiny reminders that he’s here, that he isn’t leaving any time soon.

He hopes Michael likes being there as much as Gerry likes having him.

They’ve both been out all day, working on their own things, and Gerry’s so very tired, but coming home to an apartment that smells of cooling and Michael’s cheerful voice is more than enough to lift his spirits.

“Hi, babe,” he says, wandering into the kitchen and wrapping his arms around Michael’s waist. “Whatcha doing?”

“Cooking,” Michael says, twisting his head to kiss Gerry on the cheek. “I got bored of take out, and god forbid I let you cook.”

Gerry laughs softly. “I dunno what you mean. I’m a fantastic cook.”

Michael doesn’t even grace that lie with a response.

He’s right, though, Gerry is an abysmal cook, but he doesn’t mind. Not if it means Michael will cook for him.

Dinner’s not a grand affair, but all the more special for it. It feels so soft, so domestic, a normality that Gerry treasures.

Michael suggests a bath, once everything is cleared away, and Gerry reluctantly agrees. He’s sure he needs it, but taking a bath has always felt like a waste of time. Still, he’s probably filthy and there’s a stiffness in his shoulders that a good long soak will ease.

“You only love me for my bathtub,” he teases, watching Michael fiddle with the taps. He’s always been pickier about the temperature, and Gerry tends to leave him to decide on it whenever they shower together.

He laughs, hair slipping into his eyes. “Never. It is a benefit, though.”

“Friends with benefits, but the benefit is the tub?”

“Boyfriends with benefits.”

Gerry smiles, feeling so very fond for a moment. “Yeah. That.”

Michael catches him smiling and grins cheekily, and Gerry feels honour bound to splash him with bathwater, making him squeal.

The bath is a little too small for the both of them, but that’s never mattered much. They manage to find a comfortable position, Gerry sitting between Michaels legs, pressed to his chest. It’s nice.

Michael hums softly as he rubs Gerry’s shoulders, digging his fingers into the knots there, and Gerry sinks further into the warm water, letting him do as he pleases. He feels good, letting someone care for him.

He feels so full of love, so content.

The hands on his shoulders are gentle, pulling away for a moment to fetch a little dollop of soap, one of Michael’s scented ones no doubt, and then it’s being rubbed into his skin. Michael hums in a way that’s almost appreciative, and Gerry snorts.

“Shhh,” Michael tells him, reaching for the sponge and working on washing away the soap. “You’re ruining the moment.”

Gerry just laughs softly. “I am?”

Michael hits him with the sponge. “You are.”

He squeezes the sponge, emptying the water over Gerry’s head.

Gerry would have made some comment, but then Michael’s fingers work their way into his hair, scratching gently at his scalp, and his mind goes blank.

Michael takes his sweet time, getting Gerry’s hair nice and wet and then massaging shampoo into it. It feels so good, and Gerry wonders absently why he doesn’t let Michael do this more often.

For a while everything is quiet, just the sloshing of the water and Michael’s soft humming. Gerry knows it can’t possibly take this long just to wash his hair, but it’s not like he’s complaining, not with Michael’s hands in his hair, lips brushing his throat every so often.

He’s disappointed when Michael finally pulls away, but that means they get to swap places, and he’ll never pass up an excuse to get his hands on Michael’s skin.

Shifting around is a bit of a job, in a bath as small as theirs, and they get water all over the floor. Michael giggles as Gerry finally settles back into the water, looking over the side.

“We’ve made a bit of a mess,” he comments, amused.

“We can chuck a towel on it later,” Gerry says dismissively, and leans down to kiss Michael’s shoulder.

It takes a moment for him to decide which soap to use. He only had one, before Michael, a minty one which declared that it was FOR MEN in block capitals. He may be thirty-two years old, but he’s not immune to the euphoria from products like that.

Michael, on the other hand, seems to have a near-infinite selection, and Gerry takes his time picking the right one. He wants Michael to feel good, after all.

He’s rewarded with a soft, breathy sigh when he starts working the soap into Michael’s skin, and he feels himself melt a little inside. He’s too soft, really.

Michael’s hair is soft, too, long and blond and curly, and Gerry relishes being able to get his hands into it, to make Michael shiver.

They barely ever seem to have time together like this. One or the other of them is always somewhere, busy with something, and this time is precious.

Gerry protests a little when Michael starts wriggling around, but he’s only reaching for one of his stupid bath bombs that Gerry secretly loves.

The water’s dirty, and it feels like a waste, but Michael insists, and Gerry’s weak to refuse him, so they sit together and watch the water turn pink.

It’s nice, actually. Just spending time together, sitting in companiable silence.

Gerry’s half asleep by the time he realises the water is going cold, but he’s so comfortable, and he grumbles as Michael starts complaining that he’s cold. He doesn’t want to move.

It takes Michael digging his fingers into the ticklish part of Gerry’s stomach for him to relent and scramble out of the water, grumbling about Michael being cruel.

Michael just laughs at him and tells him he’s dripping onto the floor, although there’s so much water on the floor already that their downstairs neighbour is probably going to have some problems with mould.

Oh, well.

Gerry drips down the hallway to fetch some towels and drips his way back, dropping most of them onto the floor to try and get rid of the water and wrapping the final remaining one around himself.

“What about me?” Michael protests, and Gerry catches him in the same towel, pressing them together.

It doesn’t get them dry, but it’s nice, and Gerry likes the way Michael rests his chin on his hair.

They stay like that for a while, until Michael starts complaining about the cold again, and honestly Gerry is tired too, so he lets Michael rub them both down with the towel and then follows him into bed.

It’s so worth it when they finally crawl into bed, warm and dry and safe, and Gerry rests his head on Michael’s chest to listen to his heart.

His last coherent thought is that they should have more lazy evenings.

[bouwrites]

Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream: Chapter 1

The skyscrapers look down on us like a bird under bars.

Story Summary: MariJon college roommates AU. Marinette and Jon have decided to give up being heroes in favor of an ordinary life. This story follows them throughout their college careers, and their mutual journey to find what life holds for them without heroism.

Next.

Ao3.

Story under read-more.

It’s over.

So many years, so many enemies, so many battles… and it’s over. Marinette’s body feels like jelly unable to support its own weight as she stands there. It’s over. Marinette fights the tears in her eyes. Already it’s hard not to lose her grip on the butterfly Miraculous in her hand. It’s finally over.

There’s a soft, breathy laugh from her partner. Chat Noir leans heavily on her, as she leans on him. “We did it.” He says. “We did it!”

“We did it.” Marinette agrees. She sniffs back her tears, steels her heart, and sighs. “Come on, chaton. We’re done here.”

Chat Noir smiles gently at her. He and Marinette both spare Lila another look, but no more than that. “After you, my love.” Chat says.

Lila raves at them. She spits and screams and throws every vicious insult she can at them, but in the end, Lila is in handcuffs going the way of Gabriel. In the end, the butterfly Miraculous is finally back where it belongs. And with the box complete, no one can use the Miraculous for evil any longer. Not so long as Marinette is still guardian over it.

But Marinette… Marinette is so tired. All the fighting, every battle, just one after another, over and over. The secrets. The fame. The responsibility. The expectations. Marinette is so tired of fighting. She’s tired of being perfect for the people. She’s still human.

When they take down Gabriel, there is a whole celebration. The butterfly Miraculous eludes them, of course, to ultimately land in Lila’s hands, and Nathalie escapes as well, though without the peafowl Miraculous, but there is still a celebration. Hawk Moth is taken down. One great evil defeated, so it’s only a matter of time before the next is, too. It renews faith, proves to the people that their heroes are the paragons they’re meant to be. For Marinette, it is a failure. For Adrien, it is losing his family. Marinette still doesn’t quite forgive Paris for celebrating something so horrible.

She wonders, will they celebrate this? It’s over. Ladybug has retrieved the Miraculous. The source of the power that allows those evils to do what they do. Gabriel and Lila. Selfish, cruel, short-sighted, villains the both of them. But their power is gone. It’s in Marinette’s hands now. That’s something to celebrate. Marinette just really doesn’t feel like celebrating.

Right now, she just wants to see the butterfly Miraculous in its rightful place in the box, Nooroo to reunite with the rest of the kwami, and to sleep. So that’s what she does. In near silence, she makes her way back to her apartment, pulls out the hidden Miracle Box, puts Nooroo back where he belongs, smiles at the kwami’s excitement to be together again, and crawls feebly into bed beside Adrien.

Adrien wraps her up in his arms, happily holding her close and whispering cheery words to her. He’s excited, and rightly so. Lila has been a thorn in their sides for more than just her reign with the butterfly Miraculous, and for much longer, too. To see her finally land herself in jail is satisfying in a way that Gabriel’s arrest still isn’t. Adrien is so happy right now, nuzzling into her and giggling and peppering her with victory kisses. It’s more than enough to make her smile. Marinette slips into sleep there in his arms, curled up where she belongs.

Marinette stares at the letter in her hand, not quite sure yet how to feel about it. The letter is great news! Yet… something ugly writhes inside her. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, just staring at the words – not reading, just staring – slowly being eaten alive by that ugly thing in her gut.

“I’m home!”

Marinette jumps, quickly folding the letter and slipping it into one of the pockets of her nearby coats and closing the closet door on it. The reaction is purely on instinct, and that only makes that ugly thing inside her grow larger. She doesn’t have time to reconsider, though, before Adrien pokes his head into their room. “How’re you doing, my lady?” He asks with an easy grin. “Did your acceptance letters come yet?”

Marinette nervously glances away, to the closet, and hesitantly shakes her head. “No. Should be any day now, though, right? If I get in.”

“Oh, you’ll get in.” Adrien chuckles. “I know they’re competitive, but you’re you. You’re a hero, remember? You’re literally miraculous! And you’re best fashion designer in the world.”

Marinette ducks her head to hide her blush, even as Adrien approaches to hug her. “I’m not…”

“Yes, you are! You’re Ladybug! You can do anything, and if those dummies at IFM or ESMOD or wherever don’t see that, then they don’t deserve you. You’re already successful, so you’d only make them regret turning you down by being the bigshot in fashion you already are. None of those universities are dumb enough to turn you down. The real question is which one you’re going to pick!”

Marinette laughs, a tad humorlessly. Isn’t that the truth? “Adrien…” She says, “I…”

Adrien just smiles at her and takes her hand. “Come on, my lady. Let’s go patrol. It’ll take your mind off while we wait.”

“I…” Marinette tries again. Words just don’t come to her. She can’t tell him that she doesn’t want to patrol. She can’t tell him that being Ladybug isn’t the honor it once was. She can’t tell him that she hates being a vigilante. (Hero, he and Paris keeps saying, but without a Miraculous-powered villain, they’re tackling regular crime and that makes her a vigilante, whether Paris agrees or not.) She can’t tell him that she’s starting to hate Paris itself. Fighting Hawk Moth is one thing, handling Miraculous problems is one thing, but Marinette always thought, back when that was happening, that when she beat Hawk Moth that would be the end of it. Every moment Adrien and Paris demand more from her is another that she resents Ladybug just a little more. “Okay.” So, she just agrees and transforms and goes out on the rooftops with her partner.

And, for a while, it takes her mind off of everything. She soars through the air and dances across the rooftops like she was born there, and she and Chat Noir break up some minor crime. Catch a pickpocket, stop a mugging, help an old lady across the street. It’s busy work, and it does keep her mind occupied, but it makes her heart heavy.

She’s sick of people calling for Ladybug like she’s some god among men who can be omnipresent and solve everything for everyone. She’s sick of fighting, of the adrenaline she gets when she sees a knife, or of the chase of some thief trying foolishly to escape. She’s sick of sacrificing her time and effort and safety for increasingly diminishing returns. It’s just not satisfying to her to stop a robbery. Not enough to justify dressing up and seeking them out. Not anymore. It’s cruel of her to think so, but sometimes she wishes that these people could just defend themselves.

Chat Noir ironically lights up when he dons his dark costume. It’s when he’s clad in black that he truly shines. He’s a true hero, a born hero. It’s worth it for him. He’s not sacrificing anything, because being a hero is what he’s meant to be. That’s why Marinette hasn’t told him yet. That’s why she can’t find the words to tell him that she doesn’t want to do this anymore.

They return to their apartment tired as always and feeling like they’ve done good. Adrien is cuddly. He always is after patrol. He’s touchy anyway, but in the afterglow of fighting crime there’s nothing he wants more than to cuddle up with his girlfriend. Marinette has no problem with that, of course, except when he gets a little clingy and interrupts her when she’s trying to work, but she usually is too tired to work right after patrol anyway. That’s just for when she’s bogged down.

Marinette lays in bed listening to Adrien’s sweet nothings, hyperaware of the letter in the closet that he still doesn’t know about. She has to talk to him about it, but how will he react? Will he be mad that she hid this from him? That she applied to schools abroad without telling him because she secretly wants to be anywhere but Paris? Will he be disappointed in her, for shirking her responsibility as one of Paris’ heroes by leaving their city to fend for itself without her? Will he and the kwami hate her for putting such selfish desires over her duties to them as the guardian?

How is she supposed to be Marinette, when Ladybug demands so much of her? Is it so wrong to want to walk away from it all? If people get hurt that she could save if she stays a hero, is that blood on her hands? Is she even allowed to be Marinette at all, or is she only Ladybug?

Marinette goes to sleep thinking that she’s starting to hate Ladybug, too.

“Marinette! It came! It came!” Marinette jumps up from her work when Adrien comes running into the room. He’s breathless, clothes and hair a mess, but he’s glowing and holding a small envelope proudly. “From IFM! Come on, Mari, open it!”

He shoves the letter into her stunned hands and sits eagerly, waiting for her to open it. Marinette examines the letter carefully. Plain, white, with their address and her name and Institut Français de la Mode’s seal printed boldly on it. Such a small, delicate little thing, holding her entire future inside it.

There’s no more avoiding this. Marinette realizes staring at the letter. Dread bubbles up inside her. If she’s accepted, then she’s going to have to tell Adrien that she isn’t sure she wants to accept. If she’s not, then she’s only delaying the inevitable until the next letter comes. She’ll only be playing along as Adrien sits with her to look through even more schools to apply to. More schools in Paris. Only in Paris.

The gentlest of hands cover her own, and Adrien’s loving green eyes bore into her. “It’s okay. Only one way to know, right? I’ll help you, if you want.”

Marinette shakes her head. Sweet, sweet Adrien. He’s the love of her life, but… he just can’t understand that acceptance isn’t why she’s scared to open this letter. She’s scared because the last one she opened changed everything and she still hasn’t figured out if she wants that change or not.

With trembling hands, Marinette breaks the seal and extracts the letter. She can’t breathe as she unfolds it. And when she reads it… she can’t finish, because she’s too busy crying.

She can feel Adrien carefully take the letter from her to read over himself, and then his ecstatic arms around her as her feet leave the ground. He lifts her, so joyful, and swings her around with a bright, clear laugh. “You got in! I told you, you would! Oh, Marinette, this is so great! I’m so happy for you!”

Marinette pats his arm as firmly as she can, a request to be put down. While she’s wiping at her eyes, Adrien seems to realize that she’s not as excited as he is. “Bugaboo? Are you okay? You don’t look ver-”

“I’ve got something to show you!” Marinette blurts out suddenly, still trying to stave off her tears.

Adrien blinks dumbly. “You- okay. What is it?”

Sniffling, Marinette guides him back to the bedroom closet, where her other letter of acceptance sits quietly hidden. She digs it out of her coat and hands it to him, too ashamed to meet his eyes. When she feels the paper slip out of her fingers, she wraps herself up tightly in her own arms and closes her eyes.

“Marinette, this is…” Adrien’s voice is so hesitant, so quiet compared to the jubilation from before. It hurts Marinette’s heart so deeply to hear. “I… Why didn’t you tell me you applied to New York? I- I mean, I’m happy for you! I am! I just… I thought…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Marinette mutters.

“I- wait, are you… are you planning to go to New York? To FIT? Is this where you really want to go?”

Marinette sighs. “I haven’t decided yet, but… I think so.”

“Oh.” There’s a long, long silence, during which all Marinette can think of is that tiny, hurt, “oh.” That realization that she isn’t what he thinks she is. That she lied to him, and that she wants to be an ocean away from their home. “I… I don’t…” Adrien sighs. “I don’t understand, but… if that’s really what you want, I… I’m here for you, Marinette. A- and hey! You got accepted! This is- this is still a great thing!”

“Adrien, I-”

Adrien laughs sharply and rubs at his eyes. “I’m sorry, I- I really am so happy for you, I just… This was a… bit of a surprise. I’m… I’m going to miss you.”

Marinette surges forward to crush him in a hug. “You’re not mad at me?” She asks quietly.

“Mad? Never. I love you, Marinette. If this is what you want, I’m proud of you for getting it.” He squeezes her back like he’s trying to crush her. “I’m just also sad that I won’t be able to go with you. And I… I have to ask… what about Paris? We need you. I don’t know what we’re going to do without you.”

Marinette reluctantly pulls away. “I- I have a confession to make about that, too.” She says.

The way Adrien’s eyebrows knit together tugs too hard at her heartstrings. I’m so sorry. “What is it?” He asks quietly, patiently.

Marinette takes a deep breath. “I… I don’t really… want to be a hero anymore.”

“You… don’t?”

“I’m tired, Adrien. I hate fighting. I hate going out every night looking for trouble. I hate being an idol. I hate that everyone expects so much from me, when I don’t even want to fight in the first place.” After a long pause and a lot of sniffles, she says, “I do love the people. And I love you. And I’m so proud of you and all the good you do. I just… kind of hate Ladybug. And I don’t really like Paris much, anymore, either. I don’t want to be a hero, Adrien, I just want to be me.”

“But… you are a hero.”

“I’m not. Maybe I was, but I don’t want to be anymore. I’m tired. We got the Miraculous back, and as far as I’m concerned, I should have retired then. I never wanted this.”

Adrien bites his lip and grits his teeth, turning his gaze to the ground. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I thou- I thought we were in this together.”

“We are!” Marinette says. “That why I’ve been going along with it. For you. Not to be a hero or anything like that. Because I knew it was so important to you. I’m sorry I never mentioned it before, I just…”

“Just what? You think I’m not under pressure doing this? You think I don’t know what it’s like to have everyone expect you to be perfect? I know that being heroes is a lot to live up to, but that’s why we can’t just give up on it! We’re important! We accept that pressure because everyone else can’t!”

Marinette sighs. “I can’t. Not anymore. It’s too much for me. I know you know what it’s like, Adrien, I just- I’m not like you. I’m not a hero. I don’t want to be a hero. I just want to be Marinette. Not Ladybug.”

“Marinette and Ladybug are the same person.” Adrien says. “You’re the same girl. One girl who’s so brave and talented and beautiful. One girl that I love. That’s you. You’re not two different people.”

“I know that, I- I just- I…” Marinette huffs in frustration. “I don’t know. I just want to go to school and live an ordinary life. That’s all.”

Adrien’s expression softens, and Marinette feels his hand on her shoulder. “Marinette, I… I don’t think you can. I don’t think either of us can just be ordinary anymore. I mean, you’re the guardian. There’s nothing ordinary about the kwami.” He chuckles weakly.

Marinette sighs. “I never asked to be guardian, you know. I don’t even know why Master Fu trained me for the role, and then when he actually transferred the guardianship…” She sighs. “Hey, Adrien?” She steps close again to hold him tightly, whispering into his chest. “Can I tell you a secret?”

His arms wrap around her like they’ve done a thousand times, and it eases her anxious heart. “Of course.”

“Promise you won’t be mad?”

“I could never be mad at you, my love.”

Marinette sniffs. “Sometimes… Sometimes I think you’d be a better guardian than me. I think I should just transfer the guardianship to you and be done with it all. Then I could… I could be normal.”

Adrien stiffens under her. “But… then you’d forget. Everything. You’d forget me.”

“I know.” Marinette admits.

Adrien holds her for a long, tense moment. “Oh.” He says tightly. “I see.” Marinette just hums to acknowledge him and holds him tighter. “Hey, Marinette?” Gently, he pries her off of him. Cupping her face in his hands, he kisses her, fervently, timidly, carefully. “Don’t ever forget me. If… if being a hero really is so hard for you, then… then stop. It’s okay. I understand. I want- I want you to be happy. You hear me? So… so accept your spot in New York. Go to America. I can take care of the box and Paris while you’re gone. Just go and… be normal. Okay? When you come back, then you can decide where to go from there.”

Marinette’s eyes flicker away from his. So kind and sincere and caring and… everything. It’s such a cruel thought she has, such a cruel question to pose to the man she loves and who loves her, but… it might be the most important question in this moment. “What if I don’t want to come back?”

Adrien follows her gaze to the floor. “Then… Then I’ll miss you. And I’ll be rooting for you. And I’ll be happy you’re doing what makes you happy. Maybe New York could take another hero?”

Marinette snorts. “Have you seen New York? It’s a pretty competitive market.”

Adrien laughs. “Yeah, I suppose it is. Paris would miss me, anyway. What would they do without my devilish charms?”

Giggling, Marinette enjoys that small moment. But it’s not nearly enough. “Adrien, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Adrien steals another kiss. “You’re so brave. You know what you need to do, and you’re doing it, and I couldn’t be more proud of you. That’s exactly what makes you Ladybug, you know.”

“I…” Marinette’s throat closes up. “Thank you.”

Adrien smiles, sniffles, and nods. “Anything for you.” He ducks his head. “But… if you don’t want to be involved in all of… this, then… what about us? Will I… Will you be okay with me still going out as Chat? Will you being in New York…”

“I don’t know, Adrien.” Marinette murmurs. “I don’t know. I’ll never ask you to stop being a hero, but… I just… right now, I just want to put this life behind me.”

“I understand. So, then… are you going to break up with me?” His eyes are so wide, so scared, so worried and hurt and sad and haunted.

Marinette grimaces. She wants so badly to deny it. To scream “Of course, not! I love you!” But though the latter is true, the first… Can Marinette really put heroism behind her when her boyfriend goes out to fight crime every night? Will she ever have the peace of mind she so craves, of a normal life without worrying over a city worth of trouble if her boyfriend is still involved in that trouble? Can she do that even if she doesn’t have that boyfriend? “I don’t know.” She says. The honesty sears her throat. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t… know.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not… not that bad, yet, but… I don’t know if I can live this way forever. If you’re still…”

“No, I get it.” Adrien says. “I understand. But I- I can’t give this life up. It’s… It’s everything to me. I’m… I’m sorry. I wish this was different.”

“Me too, Adrien.”

“Do you… think we can hold on?” Adrien asks softly. “Do you think, if you go to America and take a break from all this, we can survive that? Do you… want to try?”

“I want to try. I don’t know if it’ll work out, but… maybe if I get a break, it’ll be okay. I… there’s no way to tell for sure, and I… I do love you. So, so much. I don’t want to break up.”

Adrien smiles. “Me neither. I want to try, too. I’ll be yours as long as you’ll have me. But… Thank you, for the time we’ve had together. If you do decide we can’t do this, I hope… I understand, and I still love you, and I want only the best for you. And, I’m sorry I can’t be who you want me to be.”

“You never need to be anyone but you, Adrien.” Marinette says. “I’m sorry I can’t be a hero like you.”

Adrien chuckles. “You’ll always be my hero. Always. Just be happy. That’s all you need to do.”

Marinette accepts her spot at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York. Once she does, it’s a scramble to get everything ready for her departure. Her parents help her organize everything, as does Adrien. Marinette can tell that Adrien is trying to be strong for her, but the smile he wears is unmistakably forced, and no amount of poise can hide the way he cries when he thinks she’s not watching.

It’s almost too much to leave. To leave him, her parents, her city, even the kwami. Everything she knows. Everything except her and her dream. She feels so unbelievably terrified, and yet somehow, she feels like she’s the boldest she’s ever been. To take this step into the unknown, to leave behind so much of what’s familiar, it’s a brand-new chapter in her life. There’s a lot she hopes she can keep, like Adrien, and a lot she knows she’s going to have to give up, but it’s a new step, and she’s excited to see where it takes her.

The kwami are none too happy about the thought of her making Adrien the de facto guardian in all but the magic. Marinette knows he’ll be a better one than her – he’s a hero, after all, through and through, not like her who only wants to be normal – but they, like Adrien, understand where she’s coming from. They like and trust Adrien enough to accept him looking after them while she’s gone. After all, since they beat Gabriel and Adrien moved in with her, first into her parent’s bakery and later into their own apartment, he’s essentially been a second guardian already.

Tikki does insist on coming with her, though, and with Adrien and her parents arguing that her having the earrings, even if she doesn’t always wear them, will give them peace of mind that she’ll be safe all the way across the ocean, Marinette has to concede this. She doesn’t want to say goodbye to Tikki, either, but she will never be normal while she’s still with her. But her family and her boyfriend and all the kwami do have a point. Marinette doesn’t plan on wearing the earrings all the time like she used to, but if it’ll make the people she loves feel better, it’s a small enough thing to concede.

And no matter how much she wishes it, while she still remembers everything she’s been through, she’ll never be totally normal. Tikki is a beloved friend, and Marinette will be glad for her company when she’s all alone in America. Maybe, if she’s not a hero, having Tikki won’t be too bad. No one is completely normal, after all.

Everyone joins in on the “send Marinette off” planning party. Her friends, her family, everyone. Alya is tearfully leading the charge on making sure everyone spends as much time with her as possible before it’s time for her to leave, and her family leads the charge on making sure everything is in order, that she’s packed and has everything she needs and that she knows what to do when she gets there. Adrien is quieter than usual, but he’s stuck to her side like glue, refusing to leave her for any longer than is necessary for his own job, and stealing intimate moments anywhere he can in the flurry of the preparations.

When the day comes for her to leave, there’s more tears. Marinette is half-afraid she’ll miss her flight because everyone wants to hug her and no one wants to let her go. It’s hard. It’s very hard. To look at the faces of the people she loves and tell them goodbye.

Adrien kisses her. Heated and tender and trembling. Only for her to hear, in a hot whisper, he says, “Don’t know if that’s the last time I’ll get to do that.”

Marinette just kisses him again. “I love you.” She says.

“I love you too, Marinette. Promise me you’ll be happy.”

“I promise. I’ll do whatever I need to to make it happen. Promise me you’ll do the same?”

“Of course, my lady. I’ll do everything I can.”

The next thing Marinette knows, she’s all alone, save for Tikki in her purse, and she’s flying high, en route to America. The long journey is filled with doubt and second-guessing, but it’s too late to turn back. She’s committed, and now all she can do is find her new apartment, meet her new roommate, and make the most of life in the Big Apple.

It’s a relief to have Tikki with her when she touches down. Leaving the airport, Marinette hesitates, but Tikki’s reassurance gets her back into gear. She hails a taxi, finds her new home, and gets started. Her roommate is supposed to move in soon, she’s told, but she has the place to herself for at least a few days. That’s fine. She’ll just get the place how she likes it and ask her roommate when they get here.

Opening the door to the small apartment, Marinette explores first, though there isn’t all that much to see. It feels a bit like the whole apartment is just a narrow hallway. When she steps inside, there’s two doors to her right, one with a small closet and one with the washer and dryer. The hallway turns to the left, and there’s three more doors on the right before she finally steps into the living room. The first door is the bathroom, and the next two are bedrooms, and the kitchen is just the inner wall of the living room.

It’s tight and will be especially so when her roommate gets here, but it’s enough. I’ll have to apologize in advance. She thinks. The living room is the only place with any space to get work done. I’ll probably be taking up a lot of the floor when I’m sewing. Hopefully most of it can be done at university, but I don’t know yet how they’ll feel about using the school resources for personal projects.

I can’t imagine it’ll be an issue, but I also imagine I’ll be doing at least some work here, so I should make sure my roommate is warned about that.

Marinette takes the second bedroom after determining it has a larger closet, but she doesn’t unpack yet. She just throws her bags down and calls home.

Her parents answer right away, and Marinette isn’t surprised that Adrien and Alya are both with them. “We miss you already.” Her mother says. “How is everything? What’s New York City like?”

Marinette chuckles. “Maman, I only just got here. The apartment’s alright, but my roommate’s not here yet. I’m really excited to visit the garment district, though! I’ll have to do that soon.”

“Of course. Don’t slack on your studying, though.”

“I would never!” Marinette fake-gasps. “But seriously, don’t worry. This is going to be great. I’m excited to get started.”

“And I’m excited for you, sweetheart.”

The conversation goes on and on, but eventually they have to hang up. Knowing already what she needs to do first, gets started on cleaning. The place isn’t dirty, but she feels better after having gone through it thoroughly.

After that, it’s all about getting ready for school. Marinette will worry about unpacking and making sure the apartment is exactly how she wants it when her roommate gets here to give their input, but for now, she’s starting university in a week and she has a lot to do in the meantime.

But she’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng, after all. If anyone can handle it, she can.

[sativaasiren]

Pairing: HawksxReader

Genre: hurt/angst

Summary: The dark side to dating a pro hero, and the secrets that divide. Reader has to find the courage to leave a one sideded relationship with Hawks. Inspired by “Tolerate it” by Taylor Swift.

Notes: This came to me one night so I had to get it all out while I remembered it. Might edit the story later and add more detail if I find it’s not fleshed out enough. For best effect, listen to “Tolerate It” by Taylor Swift while reading this fic!

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*I sit and watch you reading with your head low. I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed. I sit and watch you.*

(Y/N) was up late, writing furiously with reckless abandon. Things were probably illegible and impossible to read but she didn’t care. She had to get things on paper now while the feelings were spilling out. It was finally time.

*I notice everything you do or don’t do. You’re so much older and wiser and I..*

(Y/N) closed her eyes and thought back to all the memories, both wonderful and painful, trying to piece together how her loving relationship with everyone’s favorite #2 Pro Hero Hawks had soured into a resentful mess. She had been thinking about leaving for months, but today felt right. It was time.

(Y/N) chewed the skin off her lower lip while she started to share her side to their story with him through the letter on the desk. He was asleep in the other room, passed out on the small couch in their bedroom, and it gave her the chance to process in the silence.

*I wait by the door like I’m just a kid. Use my best colors for your portrait. Lay the table with the fancy shit. And watch you tolerate it. *

It wasn’t always this way. Keigo tried at first. He was always fond of big romantic gestures and small acts of servitude when he got home from a mission. You were always relieved when he came home safely, even if it was covered in bandages and hardly able to walk.

Hawks loved you in the best way he could, but it was not something he could maintain. He was not equipped to have a long term meaningful connection with another person, he didn’t even know how. Over time, he wouldn’t come home with flowers after a large mission away, he came home with a limp wave and headed straight for bed silently.

(Y/N) squeezed her hands into fists, forcing her tears back from spilling onto the paper. If she let herself feel too much, she wouldn’t be able to stop and she would be damned before letting him see evidence of your love on this letter. He can’t know you’re fighting the urge to stay. A bad relationship with Keigo was better than the bile that rose in your throat at the idea of seeing him with another woman, even if it might be too late for that.

Hawks seemed done with you too. You knew he had to be feeling the same as you. He never touched you anymore, not even when you tried to initiate some late night sex as a melatonin replacement. (Y/N) would spend her time at work and her time at home spent alone panicking. Was he with someone else? Why was he never home? He didn’t kiss me goodbye this time, is he coming back?

*If it’s all in my head, tell me now. Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow. I know my love should be celebrated. But you tolerate it. *

(Y/N) had really gone above and beyond to win Keigo’s affection, playing hard to get and rebuffing his early advances. You had met him completely by chance. You had been running late on your way to work and jogging wasn’t fast enough to get you there on time. You took a sharp right into the alley between an old house and a quick mart. You should have been paying attention to where you were headed but had taken a brief glance down at your feet. It was just long enough for you to collide head-first into someone. The man grunted and took a fumbled step backwards.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m running so late!”. (Y/N) brushed at her soft blouse to push off any dust that might have gathered from the collision.

“Would you want a lift?” His voice struck a chord within her chest, resonating inside of her, but it was only a second before she connected the voice to the man. “You’re Hawks”.

He chuckled at your very astute observation. “I am. Do you want a lift?”

Who were you to say no to a ride with a pro hero and the fan favorite one at that? He wasn’t so bad to look at, but you had kept your gaze off of him. You knew once you started staring, you’d never stop. “Yeah, I’ll need one if I want to be on time”

Hawks didn’t wait for you to second guess your decision, he scooped you into his arms and jumped into the air. You suppressed a small scream in your throat. The scene in front of you caught your attention completely, the sky had never looked so beautiful before. The world felt small below you. You looked up to see Hawks laughing at your reaction. You were wearing all your emotions on your face and he loved every second of it. You were so beautiful with the wind in your hair and he wanted to make you smile. Hawks clutched on tighter and spun you through a loop. You grabbed the front of his jacket tightly and squeezed your eye shut and he kept laughing. Hawks started to descend. “Tell me which building is yours” he shouted over the wind.

You feebly pointed to the dark gray building on the corner. A small office that focused on finance, it was a simple job that paid your bills. Hawks lowered slowly to the ground and set you on the cement sidewalk. “Here we are!” Hawks was beaming at you, ignorant to the gathering fans scrambling to get a picture, entirely enraptured by you. “I gotta go but maybe I could give you another ride sometime, kid. See you around”. He saluted you with two fingers to the temple and headed boldly into the crowd. You stood still, watching him fade from view. Your heart was pounding, from the flying, you told yourself. Just the flying. You ran inside for work, couldn’t get another ride if you lost this job now could you?

Hawks met you outside of your office every single day that week, waiting for the chance to fly you home. You managed to refuse every day this week but your resilience was fading. How could anyone say no to him? He melted the hearts of every woman he spoke to and you were no exception. His goofy grin, the snarky comments, he seEmed so carefree and perfect. You punched out of your shift and headed for the front door, sure enough, he was waiting for you.

“Need a ride, kid?” He leaned forward with his hands in his pockets, watching your every movement keenly.

“I’m not sure. Do I?” You loved messing with him. You felt powerful, knowing that a refusal was uncommon in his daily life. He needed to be knocked down a few pegs and you were overjoyed to do it.

“I think maybe you do. It’s getting dark out and you shouldn’t be walking these streets alone.”

You pretended to be weighing out the options and once you felt you had toyed with him enough, you agreed. Hawks walked over and scooped you into his arms once again. All you could smell was his cologne and his warmth was so distracting. This time; you were more focused on him than the sky. He noticed. “You’re gonna have to tell me where you live, if that’s okay with you”.

You rolled your eyes and shouted the street address, resisting the urge to lie and get more time with him by giving a fake address. He nodded without looking down at you and made his way across town. After a few minutes, the ride was coming to an end. Your house was within eyesight and you secretly begged him to stay. Hawks headed down to the balcony on your place and gently landed next to the small white patio set. “Here were are. I’m going to have to start charging you cab fare , kid”

You gently smacked his chest as you got out of his grasp and regained your sense of motion. “Cab fare? If you start charging me, I’m going to want more than a one way ride”.

Hawks exhaled through his nose and leaned in toward your face. “What do you want?”

You reached out and grabbed the sides of his face, gently caressing his cheek with the pad of your thumb. “What’s on the table?”.

Hawks returned the gesture by pulling your waist into his and kissing you softly on the lips. You pulled him into the kiss harder, tugging on the back of his head. He almost tasted sweet. His hands pawed at your hips through your clothing, taking your shape in. “That.”

That was almost 2 years ago now. It all seems so vivid and fresh in your memory. You’ve had Keigo on the same beautiful pedestal the entire relationship, the only art piece in your soul museum. He was everything. You made sure he knew that he was everything.

Keigo would leave on missions for 2-3 weeks at a time but you cleaned the house and kept things orderly for his return. You had stocked the house to the brim his favorite foods, bought small tokens of love that reminded you of him, and always made a hot meal hoping that today would be the day he came home.

As time passed, his enthusiasm for you faded. He looked almost sad to see you as his only welcome party after a particularly brutal battle. He was keeping secrets and Keigo knew that if he got close to you again, they would be found out. He’d rather come home to the girl he fell out of love with than to no one at all. Every mission had a hidden conquest, a one night stand, a warm body. He lost track of all the women and sometimes men he would bury his sorrow into. Nothing could fill the void in his heart, it had been there for so long, there was no fixing it. Hawks didn’t know how to fully love anyone including himself. He imitated those around him but it was fake. Hawks faked everything to match those around him. Blend in, do what they do, and maybe the feelings will follow.

You suspected he was hiding things. It took a lot of work to get a two sided conversation out of him. He was lying, even on points that didn’t need to be lied about. Losing track of what you knew and didn’t know, and hedging his bets.

“Do you even miss me when you’re gone doing God knows what?”

The words slipped out of your mouth before you had a chance to plot out where you wanted this statement to go.

Hawks looked up at you from across the room and returned his gaze to the warm coffee in his hands, still steaming. “Only sometimes”

You thought you could handle this but you couldn’t. You stormed out and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. Sliding down onto your knees and clutching the marble countertop, you crumbled.

*I greet you with a battle hero’s welcome. I take your indiscretions all in good fun. I sit and listen. I polish plates until they gleam and glisten*

(Y/N) scribbled on the edge of the paper, trying to get the ink working again. The words kept coming and coming.

*I know my love should be celebrated. But you tolerate it.*

Hawks didn’t make it public knowledge but he drank, a lot. He would put on a big goofy grin and make jokes but they would start to get more pointed with every drink that followed. When he returned home from his last mission, he was already wavering and hammered. Keigo grabbed the doorframe to help himself inside and made his way to the couch. He didn’t even acknowledge you, nor the dinner you had set waiting for him.

“Keigo, I made dinner if you’re hungry?” You tried to ignore the foul smell of alcohol coming from him when he walked past you. It bothered you but you didn’t have the strength to fight today. You missed him. Why were you still missing him?

“I’m only home for a few minutes before i’m going back out. I have plans”. You grabbed at your wrist, holding back choice words and jealous thoughts. You didn’t want to scare him off.

“Oh okay, I was hoping to spend time with you today. Maybe later then?”

Keigo didn’t reply, just exhaled loudly. He knew you were being a regular girlfriend, but it bothered him. He was tired of this game they were playing, it had been going on for too long. Hawks sat up when his phone started to buzz on the coffee table. He snagged it up and looked at the message lightning fast and made his way back to the front door.

You shakily reached out towards his back and retracted your hand before he saw. “I love you, Keigo. Please be safe”

Keigo slowly smiled at you and replied with his usual comment. “Love you too, kid. I’ll see ya later”

*While you were out building other worlds, where was I? Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire? I made you my temple, my mural, my sky. Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life. *

This routine had gone on for months, and you were complicit. It hurt less to know that Hawks wasn’t in love with you anymore and stayed with him than it would be to leave him behind. Keigo was everything to you. He was your protector, your knight, your hero, and he wanted to retire. You were selling yourself for a few pieces of silver and it was finally enough.

*Drawing hearts in the byline. Always taking up too much space or time. You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I*

You were going to run out of paper soon. You hadn’t planned well enough for this sudden rush of passionate communication. Your feelings perfectly wrapped in a bow. You also knew that time was running short, he would need to wake soon for work and you wanted to be gone by then.

*I break free and leave us in ruins? Took this dagger in me and removed it? Gain the weight of you then lose it. Believe me, I could do it.*

Over the last 2 weeks, you had methodically packed up your things from your shared living space and brought it to the new one you started renting in secret. If Keigo could have secrets, so could you. All that remains were the straggling belongings you saved to keep up appearances but they’re all in the suitcase now. It was time.

*If it's all in my head tell me now. Tell me I've got it wrong somehow. I know my love should be celebrated. But you tolerate it*

(Y/N) dropped the pen softly onto the desk, leaving it with the scattered letter, and retreated from the room. She turned the corner towards the front door where her suitcase waited but hesitated. She wanted to say goodbye one last time. (Y/N) padded silently down to the bedroom at the end of the hall and slunk into the room. The tears she had been holding back this whole night came pouring out. Her courage was going to break. She clenched her fists and whispered softly “I love you, Keigo. Please be safe”. (Y/N) backed out of the room and returned to the door.

“Love you too, Kid. I’ll see ya later”. Keigo whispered to the empty room, wide awake. She was gone, and he was alone.

*I sit and watch you*

[more-miserables]

Part Seven - White Wedding

@cubeswhump here. This title has no significance. Y'all know I'm terrible with titles and there's this bit about wedding dresses and I got that stupid Billy Idol song stuck in my head.

Tagging @liliability @albino-whumpee If you're not tagged and want to be, just let one of us know.

Yates was hoping he’d be able to curl up with Ginger under those soft, frilly bedsheets and take a nap, hoping he’d have time to digest all the extraordinary information they’d received in the past thirty-six hours. Ginger looked like he would have benefitted from some sleep too - but he didn’t even wait for his face to regain its colour. He hauled himself up on his wobbly legs, clinging to the wall for support.

“Come on,” he hissed. “I want to look around. Check everyone out.”

“I really think you should rest for today,” Yates mumbled, though he was already trailing after Ginger. “We don’t even have any real clothes.” Andromeda had brought them strange, soft pyjamas when they’d both showered after the doctor left. Ginger’s looked practically brand new - plaid pants and a soft black shirt with long sleeves. Yates’s were older, with a slightly washed-out look, the bright pink faded to a sickly peach. They were patterned with bright red roses; it seemed the person closest to his size was one of the girls.

“I doubt they’ll care what we wear. But we need to make sure these guys are the real deal, okay? Make sure they won’t report us.” The stairs were causing Ginger some difficulty, and Yates held him round the waist to guide him up. “Thanks. Look, I’ll sleep after we meet everybody, if you really want.”

“Okay…”

They jumped when at that precise moment, someone knocked on the door at the top of the stairs. Yates opened the door very reluctantly, and Andromeda strode down the stairs, smiling brightly at them both.

"Are you two hungry? Shall I bring a tray here again or would you like to come upstairs?"

“Upstairs please,” Ginger said, while Yates was still dithering over the choice and the astonishment that they’d been given one. “We want to look around.”

“Ginger does,” Yates whispered. He’d much rather cower in the basement himself.

"Well, we'd love to see you," Andromeda said, "but if you want to stay here while he looks around, there's the TV or I can find you an audiobook or some drawing stuff…"

“No thank you,” Yates said hastily, grabbing Ginger’s good hand. “I’d prefer to stay with him.”

Andromeda nodded, and though he smiled, the look in his eye and his lingering gaze made Yates uncomfortable. He chatted as he led them upstairs and through elaborately decorated, spotless halls.

"There are lots of choices so I think you'll find something you like. Everyone likes different things here. Xander gets sick from a lot of foods so we have to limit certain things. David is back over and he just likes toast and tea, but you can have something more exciting if you'd like."

“We should probably introduce ourselves to David, if he’s our new owner,” Yates said. “We need to be respectful.”

"No, he's not your owner. No one has owners here," Andromeda said calmly, and added, "Well, except the animals."

“It might take him a while to grasp it,” Ginger mumbled. “He was always better at this than I was.”

The kitchen was its own room with the wall connecting to the flamboyant living room knocked down. There was an actual booth by the very large windows, blue benches with grey pillows and a marble table, and a table with chairs that matched the bench nearby. This was clearly the main room they ate in.

Tina, Nils, and Harley were at the table - and there was a new boy there too, pressed right up against Tina's side. His hair had more brown to it than Ginger's, but Ginger almost felt glad he wasn't the only redhead. But this boy had skin that was almost tan and none of the freckles splattered all over Ginger.

There were three more people at the other table, a baby in a wooden highchair, a woman, and a… Yates did a double take and was pretty sure he was a man. The woman wore a very fancy nightgown, decorative lace and silk and way too much effort to sleep in. Her legs were propped up on another chair and she had on fuzzy slippers with rabbit ears, ruining the effect. She was very pretty, though, with dark eyes and smooth brown skin and high cheekbones. Her hair was very big and curly, dark brown with blonde highlights. The baby had very dark hair with curls like hers and skin the same shade, and the frilly pink clothes suggested she was also a girl.

The man across from her seemingly ignored her for his phone, sipping his tea carefully so he wouldn't smudge his lipstick. Who in their right mind would wake up and put on a full face of makeup this early? His shirt was shiny purple silk that matched his nails and his black hair fell in loose curls, and judging by the lines around his eyes Ginger secretly thought that wasn't his real color.

Yates ducked behind Ginger, suddenly shy. This man - if he really was a man, Yates still wasn’t totally sure - was unlike any he’d ever seen. He looked nothing like any of the men who came by Stanley’s house, and he didn’t look like the people at the facility. He couldn’t help seeming rather formidable, with his cool air of class and his perfect posture. The serious look on his face didn’t help. Ginger couldn’t think why anyone would paint their face just to sit there looking miserable, but he was quickly distracted by the baby. She was cute, sure, but also the most unexpressive, dull baby ever. He squinted. Was it even blinking?

Andromeda ran through a list of vaguely familiar names: "You've met Tina, Nils, and Harley. That's Briar, that's Priscilla, and that's David. Xander and Jay usually sleep in and Crow's a little nervous to meet you two just yet."

Yates heard none of that, and he didn't see the auburn-haired boy glaring or the unfamiliar woman sizing them up. He also didn't hear this woman say, "Fresh meat."

He only heard Andromeda say David. He saw the finger pointing at this new man, and David turning to nod at them. He saw David shake his head at the woman at his table.

This was David, the new owner. And Yates had no idea what to expect from a man like this. He went to kneel and show respect again, but Ginger caught him by the scruff of his pyjamas and held him there. Yates froze, staring at David helplessly.

Yates nearly jumped when this man spoke. His voice was surprisingly deep and very plummy.

"You don't have to stay standing. There's space over here, or you can sit over there since you're acquainted with Tina and Nils," he said, waving a hand in their direction and adjusting his glasses with the other.

Yates started asking in a tiny voice which David would prefer, but Ginger wasn’t in the greatest mood after having his hand hacked at for half the morning. He grabbed Yates mid-sentence and dragged him over to Tina’s table.

Andromeda was by their side, running down a list of food options, but both were distracted. At the forefront of Yates' mind was this David, and Ginger was having a staring contest with Nils. Only Nils would not make eye contact and Ginger had no clue what he was staring at. His drink was in a sippy cup and his waffles and fruit were cut into tiny bits. Odd.

“What were you trained as?” he asked. Maybe a domestic - he wasn’t particularly pretty, just like Ginger himself.

Tina gave Nils a fond pat on the shoulder. “Nils didn’t quite have the same background as you, dear. But he’s equally safe and happy here.” She didn’t elaborate, and Ginger was left more confused than ever.

Nils looked at her, squinting like he had no idea what she was talking about. But he went back to his plate, dripping syrup down his bare chest and whining when Tina wiped him down with a flannel. He didn't close his mouth to chew either. Watching him eat wasn't terribly appetizing. Ginger was almost glad he didn’t have much appetite, but he put a waffle in front of Yates. “You should eat something. When did you last eat properly?”

Yates bent his head. “I’m… not sure I should eat.”

“Why not? You must be hungry.”

“But I haven’t done anything to deserve it,” Yates muttered. His voice was low, but Tina still heard.

“You don��t have to earn food, sweetheart,” she said. “Nobody does. You can eat all you want here. You’re not going to get into trouble for eating.”

"It's good to keep our energy up, yeah?" Andromeda called from where he sat at David's table. "You can have however much you want. Both of you."

Yates nibbled his lip. This had to be a trick. Stanley used to do it too. He’d ask Yates if he thought he deserved to eat, and if he said yes he was punished for taking luxuries for granted, and if he said no he’d be punished for not working hard enough.

Ginger sighed. He cut off a corner of the waffle and held it up to Yates. Yates sucked in his lips and Ginger snorted. “Are you five? Come on. Just a bit.”

Yates shook his head stubbornly.

“For me?” Ginger said, putting a breathy, sickly-sweet imitation of Yates’s own voice. Yates gave him a disgruntled look - but parted his lips slightly all the same. Ginger quickly stuffed the fork in his mouth before he could reconsider.

Andromeda caught Tina's eye and grinned. She winked.

As Ginger helped Yates through his breakfast, he stared across the table again, trying to size everyone up. Nils was still painting himself with syrup, commanding most of Tina’s attention, so Ginger looked at the boy clinging to her other side. Brian, was it?

Nils stole most of the attention but when you actually noticed this boy, he was possibly weirder. He just stared at Tina wordlessly and wouldn't touch his eggs and pancakes until she nudged him, at which point he would take a bite or two and then go back to staring. At one point, he noticed Ginger's gaze - and gave him the most ferocious scowl.

Ginger felt affronted and pulled a hideous face back, sticking out his tongue and wrinkling his nose.

"Ah!" Nils suddenly yelled out, jumping up and pressing his face to the window. Harley barely glanced up, like this was ordinary, but Ginger's eyebrows shot up at the goat grazing just outside.

“What is he doing?” Ginger asked weakly. Not that he was upset by the sight of the goat. It looked quite sweet. Maybe it would let him stroke it? If he was allowed. No, even if he wasn’t! He was through taking orders now.

“Why don’t you show them the animals when we finish eating?” Andromeda called over. “Maybe you two new boys would like to see around the house.”

“I’d rather see the animals,” Ginger said. Yates wasn’t too keen on that - he’d much rather look around the house - but he didn’t want to be away from Ginger. He kept quiet.

After everyone had finished, Andromeda collected plates and started cleaning up. Nils crawled over Tina and Briar, who yelled, “Get off!” He was standing before anyone else, waving his arms at Ginger and Yates in an exaggerated beckoning gesture.

They stood obediently, Yates clinging onto Ginger’s good hand. They could’ve been glued together now for all the time they spent linked. They followed Nils to the door, Ginger having to drag Yates out because he didn’t want his bare feet on the grass. Nils, though fairly clean right now, looked like he belonged out here with the animals with his toffee-colored hair standing out in every direction, shirtless with freckles all across his face and torso and barefoot with overgrown toenails. He ran to a shed first.

“What’s in here?” Ginger asked, pointing to the shed. “Which animal?”

Nils turned to them, bunching his four fingers and thumb together and tapping his lips twice before leading them into the shed. The shed was small and from what Ginger could see, there were no animals in there. Just canisters, buckets, metal bowls, and hay. Nils popped the lids off to canisters and started filling a plastic bucket with grey-brown pellets.

“I don’t know what your hand gestures mean,” Ginger told him. “Can you point to what I need to get?”

Nils grunted a bit as he picked the bucket up, and he shoved it into Ginger’s arms. Ginger had to let go of Yates to grab it, and Yates clung to his shirt instead. Then Yates was nearly knocked over when something bashed into his shoulder. He looked down to see the small block of hay that had hit him, and back up to see Nils pointing at him.

“You want my help too?” He hastily grabbed the hay block, eager to be of use. Nils nodded and gave Yates another small block, and he filled up another bucket with pellets and corn and hauled it up himself, cheeks puffing out, and led them out the door. He was almost as small as Yates, and at least a few years younger, but he seemed to trust himself more with the heavier of the feed.

“I guess we’re not worthy of the hard jobs yet,” Ginger muttered, but he didn’t sound cross. He was smiling.

Nils dragged them around the yard. It was big, a bit too big as Nils kept nearly dropping his bucket and when he set it down to take a break, a big goat and a smaller one ran at him. He held it above them and shook his head, but he turned to Ginger and tilted his head toward the goats.

“This?” Ginger checked, pointing to his bucket. The goats were showing a lot of interest in him. The little one lowered its head and bumped Ginger’s legs, making him squeak in surprise.

Nils nodded. “Oh,” he said, like an instruction.

Ginger scattered the food rather nervously. The goats stayed by his bucket, clearly unimpressed, so he tried again, bolder this time. He scattered large handfuls of feed and the goats pounced on it. He looked at Nils while they were distracted. “Can I touch them? Do they mind?”

Nils nodded, patting the little one. Another goat trotted over, roughly the same size as the bigger one but this one was black, brown, and white. Ginger knelt by the brown one. It was preoccupied with the food; it probably wouldn’t mind being stroked. Ginger ran his good hand over the coarse fur, feather-light and tentative. Nils picked his own bucket up again when the little one became interested, hugging it to his chest to keep hold of it. Yates stood back, holding his hay blocks like a shield. He wasn’t too sure about these goats, with their staring yellow eyes and weird smells. He gasped when one of the goats started sniffing at the blocks, but Nils pushed it away with his foot, nearly overbalancing and falling over.

He made another noise, nudging Ginger with his shoulder.

“Are we done here?” Ginger asked. Nils nodded. “Where to next?”

Nils led them around, showing them a giant pig and her piglets in a big pen (who practically inhaled the bucket of food and blocks of hay), returning to the shed to get food for the noisy chickens (Ginger actually squealed when he saw the tiny chicks), and the two cows who wandered the yard with the goats already had their food, hay and other plant matter, that they ate through the bars of a circular fixture. Ginger was running back and forth after they’d finished feeding the animals, as if he couldn’t get enough of them all, and though Yates allowed himself to be pulled to and fro, he was more focused on the two men who had appeared by the fence than the animals.

One was fairly tall and dressed in black with hair that matched, and the other was in a wheelchair, chin-length brunette hair sticking out in all directions like a dandelion. He had an eyepatch over one eye and stared back at Yates as the other man spoon-fed him from a bowl.

“Who are they?” Yates tried to ask Nils, but he just made some of his confusing gestures. He accosted Ginger instead, but he was even less interested.

“Who cares? I’m going to see the baby pigs again,” he said.

Yates hesitated. If he was perfectly honest, he didn’t really want to go look at the pigs again. He wanted to meet everybody, to make sure they would be safe here. He looked up at Ginger. “Stay by the pigs? So I can still see you. I want to meet those men.”

Ginger nodded. “I will. Be careful with them. You never know what people can do.”

You never know what people can do. Yates never knew he’d be able to push old men down their stairs. He shook his head hard, going towards the two men by the fence. He wouldn’t think of Stanley.

The wheelchair was similar to Stanley’s, designed to be pushed by another person rather than driven by the user, with its tall back and armrests. But this wasn’t a weary old man; he was… an adult. Yates couldn’t quite distinguish ages. People were children, adults, elderly. This man was probably on the younger side of adulthood. He looked around the age of most trainees: above eighteen, always. All WRU trainers are of legal age. But never too old, no. They had to be young and desirable. He had no collar, of course. He wouldn’t be a pet. But no one here wore collars.

And this man shrank down in his chair as Yates approached, pressing his head down to his knees with his red-gloved hands over it protectively. The man standing smiled, though his expression was guarded. “Hey. You’re the new guy?”

“One of them,” Yates whispered. He felt quieter and quieter when he was separated from Ginger, like he started fading away altogether.

“Yeah, you can’t miss the redhead. He abandoned you then? The animals can be a big draw. Nice to meet you, anyway. I’m Jay. This is Xander.” He gestured to the man in the chair. “He’s kind of shy with new people. Hey, Xand! Don’t you want to say hello? It’s alright, this one looks quiet and docile.”

“I am,” Yates assured them, trying to be helpful.

Xander didn’t move for a moment, but then he slowly sat up. He looked back and forth between Jay and Yates.

“Do you have a name yet, Curly?” Jay asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh well, that’s something you can think about. Don’t worry too much about it here, it’s really okay when you get used to it. We’re doing okay here, eh, Xand?”

Xander just returned his gaze to Jay, staring up at him.

“Are you a bonded pair too?”

“No,” Jay said shortly. He didn’t offer any other explanation and his smile dropped. Yates backed away and ran back to Ginger, terrified he’d upset them.

Ginger, along with Nils, was in the pig pen. Yates gasped. “Ginger! Don’t get your bandages dirty.”

“Don’t call me that,” Ginger grumbled. “We need to think of new names now. Good names. Anyway, never mind that. Look at this pig!” He held up the smallest piglet. “He’s so much smaller than the other ones!”

“Put him down, you’re going to get your hand infected all over again,” Yates cried.

“I’m barely touching him with that hand! It still hurts a lot. Stop fussing. Don’t you want to come in and meet the pigs?” Ginger said distractedly, still with an armful of piglet. He wasn’t looking at Yates. He was grinning right at Nils.

Yates felt his cheeks growing warm. He had a sudden terrible urge to snatch Ginger away from Nils, away from the animals, away from this very house. He’d never had to share Ginger’s attention before. It hurt even more that Ginger didn’t seem to notice, laughing at something Nils did. Making friends without him.

Yates could feel his eyes burning. He wasn’t supposed to cry, but the rules were so weird here, maybe he could. Even so, he didn’t want Ginger to see. Yates turned and trailed back to the house - and the fact that Ginger still didn’t notice made the tears start pouring.

"Excuse me? Are you all right?"

Yates just about had a heart attack. It was David. Yates scrubbed his face hastily. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

"Did something happen?" he pressed on. Yates couldn't detect anger in his tone or face, but he couldn't detect much else either.

“I’m being ridiculous,” he sniffled. “Acting like a jealous child…”

"Well, sometimes people react in ways that are… that they think are absurd. But it's better to just let it happen." He paused. "As long as it isn't a reaction that harms anyone."

“I wouldn’t hurt anyone!” Yates cried - then his face went pale. He started shaking, eyes wide.

David looked taken aback. He looked around as if wanting to signal help.

“I wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Yates insisted, much louder. Don’t think about Stanley, don’t don’t don’t...

"I'm sure you wouldn’t. I was just adding as a general rule of thumb."

Yates didn’t know what that meant. He looked down at his trembling hands. Did thumbs have rules now too?

David fumbled in his bag - would that be called a purse or a satchel? - and handed Yates a tissue. He took it and quickly tried to wipe away any evidence of tears. “I don’t think I’m Ginger’s favourite anymore,” he said mournfully. “He likes those pigs best.”

David was silent for a long moment. "Would you like to sit down? I'll make tea."

Yates decided those kinds of questions could be taken as orders. He sat at once.

"Havin' a tea party, Davey?" That singsong voice… The woman with the baby.

That woman left a moment later, patting her baby's back. She paused and winked at Yates, and he shrank down until she disappeared.

At last, David returned, looking unnatural carrying a tray.

"Make your tea however you'd like," he said, taking his own cup.

“I don’t really know how I like it, sir.”

"Please, just David." He looked at the younger man's mug, patterned with flowers. "Why don't we experiment and find out what you like? In general, do you prefer foods that are very sweet?"

Yates still wasn’t sure. Didn’t David know they were given the barest, blandest food available, if they were fed at all? But he obediently spooned a little sugar and honey into his cup.

"Yes, see if you like that. Add more if you would like, but I would suggest only a little at a time. You can always add more but not take away."

Yates couldn’t understand why they were having such a blasé conversation while he was just mourning the loss of his partner to some stupid animals. Maybe David didn’t understand how devastatingly serious this was. “It’s Ginger who likes sweet things. He’s good at making cakes, doing the frostings.” His words wavered as his eyes filled up with tears again.

"You're speaking as if he's died."

“He’s not dying!” Yates started sobbing in earnest.

David was quiet for a moment. He took the smallest sip of his own tea. "Then it sounds like this problem can be resolved.”

“How?” Yates wept. “I don’t know how! We were just us before. Nobody else.”

"Yes, you're a bonded pair. Tell me, what will happen if you spend an hour or so apart, and then come back together?"

“Well… Back at our old place, we wouldn’t see each other all day. But we’d be chained together at night. It was okay again.”

"Don't you share a room? You'll still be spending nights together."

“Ginger might want to sleep with Nils instead. He’s funny and he knows about animals. I don’t know anything about them,” Yates said glumly. “And I’m not funny. I’m really boring.”

"I'm sure that's not true. But I think while he's preoccupied with the animals, you might like to find something you enjoy. A hobby."

“A hobby.” Yates muttered the word like it was another language. “Just for myself?”

"Yes. Most of the residents - recovering boxies, that is, like you - have hobbies." David sounded like he was making a business proposal, tone very serious and expression unchanging. Yates wasn't sure how he knew this, but David was definitely a businessman.

"I've met two other bonded pairs, one here and one at another property I work with," he went on, "and while they all stayed very close with their former bonded, I think they all found something to do on their own. Two from the same pair have even gotten jobs separately."

Separate. The very word frightened Yates. “H-how..?”

"Well, it took some time."

“I don’t remember… a time when we were separate.” It was like Yates couldn’t even comprehend the possibility.

"I think everyone needs some alone time. Spending time alone doesn't mean you're growing apart. If anything, I think it may help you both."

“How?” Yates burst out. “I don’t want to grow apart!”

David looked at him properly. He looked him in the eye, and Yates realized they hadn't made eye contact this whole time. David hadn't looked at his face much at all.

"Two people will form a sort of bond by marrying. They agree to spend life together, but do they spend every moment of the day together? Do they share every interest and hobby?" David asked. "Identical twins come from the same tiny cell that breaks apart. They develop and are born together. Parents frequently dress them alike and people treat them as if they're one person rather than two. But they are individuals and they typically develop their own identities, establishing their own style, separate interests, take different classes in uni."

“But me and Ginger don’t look alike,” Yates mumbled. He found it hard to grasp what David was talking about. He wished he’d just come out with it.

"You were treated as a single unit, but that's not what you are. You're two individuals. Separate people."

Yates wasn’t really getting the point, and it was clear on his face. Weeks of intense training couldn’t be erased so quickly. Maybe they were two separate people, but Ginger felt like a part of Yates. It felt like Yates wasn’t whole without him.

"Why don't you give hobbies a try? Then when your friend comes back in you can tell him about what you've done. It'll give you lots to talk about."

“What sort of hobbies?”

"Why don't you get to know some of the others and ask? Andromeda knits, Harley likes all kinds of arts and crafts, Priscilla has been able to relearn how to read and she likes poetry and makeup, Crow - well, he won't want to be bothered yet. But everyone will be friendly."

“I can just go up to them? They won’t be angry?” Yates checked.

"They won't, no."

“Okay. Thank you, sir - David.”

David nodded. Yates left the table, going in search of somebody else. Probably Andromeda, if he could find him. At least he made more sense than David.

Yates was struck by the messiness of the place as he moved from room to room; Stanley and Ivy had insisted on keeping a clean and tidy house. This place was chaotically cosy, with bright pictures on the walls and various possessions scattered about. The furniture was clearly high quality, though frequently buried under blankets.

"Hiya!"

Even while he was seeking Andromeda out, Yates jumped when Andromeda greeted him in the hallway.

“Hello, sir. David says I should try some hobbies,” Yates reported.

"Oh, he did?" Andromeda asked. "Do you want to right now, or would you rather not?"

“Well… I don’t really have any other tasks to perform. And Ginger is busy,” he said mournfully.

"It's okay to do nothing for a little while. We can put something on the telly, maybe, or we could try a hobby."

“I’m allowed to watch the television?” Yates seemed a tiny bit brighter.

"You are! Everyone's jealous you have a TV in your room," Andromeda laughed, "but you can watch TV in the living room as well."

“We can give the TV to someone else if you’d prefer,” Yates said quickly.

"Not if you and Ginger enjoy it!"

Yates decided to ask Ginger later. He was sick of making decisions.

"What will it be then?" Andromeda asked, smiling. "Telly or an activity? Or we could even do both."

More decisions. Yates mumbled that he’d like to try watching TV, mostly because he knew you just had to sit there and watch it. He felt exhausted already.

"Living room or your room?"

“Living room?” He said it like he wasn’t sure. But Ginger would have to pass the living room when he came back. He’d see Yates and want to sit with him again…

"Okay! Would you like me to watch with you?"

“Yes please. If you don’t mind, sir.”

"I don't mind at all," Andromeda said cheerfully, walking him back to the living room. David was no longer on the sofa. Yates sat on the floor automatically. Those sofas were fancy, there’s no way he’d be allowed to sit on them.

"Are you comfortable there?" Andromeda asked, perching on the leather cushion.

“I’m perfectly fine, sir.”

He flinched when Andromeda moved suddenly, but then could only blink his eyes in confusion when he found Andromeda sitting beside him on the floor.

"Let's see what's on. Looks like someone was on the wildlife channel, but I take it that's more your friend's style?" Andromeda said, different images flashing across the screen faster than Yates could keep up. "Cooking, baking, cartoons, reality - which is more scripted and dramaticized than real, but if I'm being honest… I love trash TV. Fashion, more reality, more cooking, cartoons again…"

“Why are those ladies choosing such fancy white dresses?” Yates asked, seeing a wedding dress program flick by.

Andromeda went back to the channel. "Oh, those are wedding dresses! They're choosing their outfits to get married in."

“Married?” He’d heard of that, but only when referring to their potential masters back at the facility. Yates knew weddings had giant fancy cakes because Ginger had been taught how to make them - but he’d never realised they had these special dresses too. “That’s what ladies wear to weddings?”

"Mhm. Big white dresses are customary, at least in primarily English speaking countries. Where I grew up, women would usually wear colorful silk with patterns and hats, though the white dresses and veils have started catching on."

“You didn’t grow up here?”

"No, I grew up in Mongolia," Andromeda said, though his accent sounded no different from his own. "Do you know where that is?"

Yates shook his head. He didn’t have a clue where Mongolia was. He didn’t even know which side of a map it’d be on.

"Do you know the seven continents? Asia?"

“Sort of,” Yates said vaguely. The names felt familiar, but he wasn’t sure why. Like déja vu.

Andromeda got his phone out of his pocket. He showed Yates a screen with clumps of green surrounded with blue. "We're here on this little island, which is actually rather big and doesn't feel much like an island. This is Mongolia waaaay over here."

“It’s bigger than here,” he mumbled. “Do you remember it?”

"Mhm. My parents and I moved here when I was twelve."

“Why don’t your parents live here too?”

"Well, they died after coming here, when I was still a kid. And I don't have family in this country so I went into foster care. Do you know what foster care is?"

Yates shook his head.

"When there's no one to look after a kid, they go into foster care where designated caregivers look after them."

“So is David your caregiver?”

"He was. I'm twenty-eight now, well past aging out of the system, so now I'm taking on some caretaking myself."

“Caring for us?” Yates clarified. It still seemed foreign to him. They were the ones trained for caring.

"Mhm."

“But that’s our job.”

"Well right now, both our jobs are to judge that wedding dress."

Yates frowned, but faced the television obediently. “She doesn’t look very happy with it.”

"What kind of clothes would you be happy wearing?" Andromeda asked. Any clothes. Not necessarily wedding."

“Um…” Yates paused. “I don’t know a lot of clothes. Just something comfy?”

"Comfy sounds nice."

“I don’t know what kind Ginger likes. Probably ones with animals on,” he said, a little tartly.

"Do you like clothes? Do you like the design and stuff?"

Yates shrugged. “I’d like to see more of them.”

"So you like this show?"

Yates nodded. He did like it too, he wasn’t just saying what he thought was the right answer. This show was simple. The women came in, picked out a few dresses they didn’t like, then found their dream dress and everybody cried and hugged and went away happy. He liked that.

[thorinthehottotty]

May 1st - Lyn's Writing event - Thorin

Prompt - Beaches

Summary: Despite it being a political marriage, you have fallen for your husband but haven't told him.

Warnings: implied smut, angst

Ithellin was beautiful but hot. Too hot for thick dwarven style dresses. The wool and fur trapping the heat and making it worse. By the gods, you didn't have the heat tolerance of your new people.

When the king of Gondor sent a gift to the new visiting queen of Erebor, you were grateful. The silken fabric was light and flowing and allowed for air to cool your heated skin. Your husband, did not like this. His temper occasionally flaring in the worst of moments. His roaring voice challenged you to speak up. You were so angry at his sudden, and very unnecissary, outburst you couldn't think straight. Instead of screaming back at your king, you pinched your lips together and left. Slipping away from the guards, you made for the beach.

There was a storm in the distance.

The distant thunder and flashing of lightning soothed you with it's sympathy. To know you weren't the only thing feeling electric and angry as the waves rolled in to slap the shore.

You would be back but you desperately needed a moment to think. Alone time only came when Thorin was in the bath.

When you married your husband it was not the romance one might believe. You respect Thorin, you loved him in most ways. Diplomatic marriages were not common among dwarves. They all believed they had a one and secretly it broke your heart. The first year of your marriage was approaching and you had fallen in love with your husband. It hurt to know he didn't love you in the same manner.

He had two heirs already. So he had no need to touch you. The most he would do is give you a proud smile and pat your shoulder.

He married you to get a leg up in negotiations. Men were proud and stupid and trusted their own kind. So if he married you, men would trust him more. You were talented with wit and tongue. You always appealed to your kind with ease. Those you spoke with melted into your soft tone and gentle words happily.

The water was colder than you expect as you stand on the beach, hugging yourself. The air salty, the wet sand soft beneith your feet. When was the last time your stood on a beach and felt the water lap at your ankles. A hot wind blew in off the sea, making your heated skin sticky with sweat.

The tears of frustration roll down your cheeks in time with the crashing of the waves. For a moment, you wanted to wade into the sea and stay there for eternity, comforted by it's dark caress as it dragged you out. Instead, you just took in the mirroring turmoil it brought you and found relief in the music of its anger.

The royal guard found you quickly and Dwalin was the one to approach you as you glared to the approaching storm. "Lass, we've been worried sick about you," he coaxes softly upon seeing your enraged tears on your face. You don't meet his gaze. "It's not safe for you to be out here without a weapon and by yourself."

"I need a moment, Dwalin," you reply with a hard voice. The quietness of it nearly being lost to the strong winds.

"Thorin has asked we bring you back." Your face crumbles into a scowl as you look to your friend. He's holding the shoes you kicked off on the rocks a ways back. Near where the rest of the guards were.

"I will return in a while. You can tell him I said that." And you turned back to the ocean. Dwalin gave a frustrated groan.

"Lass, I-"

"I CAN'T FUCKING BREATHE! JUST GIVE ME A FUCKING MINUTE TO CLEAR MY DAMN HEAD! PLEASE!" You scream, turning back to the water and wading in until it reaches your knees. Guilt ate at you almost immediately.

"Aye, my queen." And he retreated. You had never raised your voice to him so he understood you were distressed.

The storm seems to stay distant from you as you carefully sort through your emotions and pain, trying to file each grievance away and relieving yourself with your tears. The fire of rage had long since burned away from your belly and left you with the gaping loneliness that filled you.

Why did you ever decide to marry the king?

It wasn't often you took a moment like this to pity yourself. You did not wallow. You gave your people everything. Your king everything.

Dís was the one to offer the idea to you both. You cursed her, the only one to whom you had admitted any feelings in regards to you husband. His sister smiled knowingly at you as you explained your frustrations to her.

You couldn't help the swell of anger when his voice was recieved by your ears. "The storm will be upon us shortly. Get inside." Defiantly, you twist toward him to glower.

He is taken aback by your puffy, red eyes, but only for a moment. He glowers back, stepping up and closer, a challenging step. "I don't want to fight with you!" You snap.

"Then listen to me!" He bellows back. He gapes when you sink into the water. "I am not above throwing you over my shoulder and dragging you back kicking and screaming! To hell with making trade with Gondor!"

You continue to pout in the cold water, ignoring the shock it gave your body. "What is the matter! Why are you so angry about the damn dress?" You snarl. "Why are you always on the attack with me?" He's shocked when he hears your voice begin to break. His entire face flutters in horror as your lip trembles and tears roll again.

"You are Queen of Erebor. Not Queen of Gondor."

"It is rude to turn away gifts, my king." Thorin flinched away at that. You only called him that when people were around. A formality.

"Get out of the water." His voice is cold.

"I will leave when I am ready to." You rasp.

"Get out of the water." He repeats with a snarl. "Get into the castle. Go to our chambers. And get out of that damned dress."

"I like the dress."

"I did not ask if you liked it or not, do as your king demands." Your lips twitch, defiance rising. You were not acting like a queen. He knows it. In a flash, your dragged from the water and you gasp as your brought up to his chest.

"It's too hot here to wear wool and leather. I don't have the heat tolerance you do!" Thorin doesn't relent, carrying you back to the sandy beaches. "Put me down! You've no right!" He drops you rather unceremoniously into the sand and you glower at him.

"I have the only right. You are my wife. My queen. Is that not what you promised? Does that mean nothing to you!?"

"It means everything to me!" Your answer stops him cold, and then much quiter, you add. "You mean everything to me. You're my king. My friend. My husband, and you don't have to love me like one but I do." His face etches in confusion as he kneels into the sand beside your nearly sobbing form. You swipe a hand at your cheeks, probably looking every bit a mess as you feel. Thunder cracks closer and he looks back at the approaching storm.

"What do you mean by that?" He asks.

"It's political for you. I know that, but that doesn't mean I don't think of you as my husband. I love you."

He moves a hand for a moment to push the windswept hair out of your face and behind your ear. "This dress makes me yearn for you as a husband does for his wife," Thorin explains softly making you gaze at him in disbelief. "I promised you long ago I would not touch you inappropriately. I understand touch is a basic necessity and I did also promise you to give you everything you could desire." You blink up at him, unsure of what to do with this information. "I apologize for my reaction to it," he admits to you. Watching you with the kindest eyes. "I should never have spoken to you in that way."

"I'm sorry for my words as well." You whisper back. He watches you for a long moment and it spurs on more blathering with the difficulty of the words you have to say. Your eyes falling into your lap. Somehow it was harder to look at his gentle stare than his glare. "You are my one true king. You have my sword, my bow, and now my heart. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable with the dress. When we arrive back, I will change into my other clothes and I won't wear it for the rest of our stay. I just can't-"

His hand brushing over your cheek has you pausing and glancing up to see just how delicately he was looking at you. He's so close, eyes sapping every bit of anger from your being and leaving you a trembling mess of nerves. His nose brushes past yours, almost intentionally it would seem as he tilts to press the most tender kiss to your lips, stealing all thought from your wandering mind and leaving you only with the coaxing of his lips. That kiss parted your lips for a spilt second and the smallest of gasps left you. Thorin leaned back in, pressing his lips to yours more deeply this time, but only just. It still held the delicacy of his sweetness.

By the fourth kiss his other hand raised to cup your face and you both were leaning into it, soaking it up like it would be the last time either of you would ever kiss instead of the first. He kissed you like he feared you would flee, as if not to scare you. You didn't know how badly you needed it as your lips softly smacked together. They tingled from the brush of his beard.

The clearing of a throat has you both parting slowly. Thorin peeks beyond you to where Dwalin stood. "We should be heading back. The storms about to hit. It'll be a nasty one."

Thorin gives him a nod and stands, dragging you with him. "Will you come inside now?" He asks you.

"Yes," you respond. It gives him a sigh of relief and your shoes are lifted for you. It's good timing the lot of you have as the rain begins just when you've entered the castle. Thorin takes you immediately to your chambers to change, water and sand trailing behind you as you make your way.

The shutters to the balcony have already been closed and are rattling from the wind. The chambers have become extra stuffy.

You slide the your shoulders out of the fabric and let it fall from your frame along with your soaked slip. A hand reaches from behind to stop you when you reach for the dry one drapped over the bed. Someone had prepared similar graments and your other ones in case you decided against it. You freeze because normally your husband would turn away and give you your privacy but you could feel him behind you.

"No," he hums quietly, pushing his warm body up against the back of yours. It has your heart racing in your chest and you feel more vulnerable now than on the beach below your window. His mouth decends on your shoulder and you shiver under it, melting back into him. He kissed up your slowly as his hands stopped reaching for the bed and instead, you.

They came around, wrapping about your naked form. One pressed over your navel, the other palm stetches between your breasts, right over your racing heart.

"I'm going to make love to you, yâsith," he murmurs as he presses a kiss to the shell of your ear. "I'm going to keep you in these sheets until the early morning light."

"Anything you desire," you promise the king. "Anything."

Yâsith - Wife

@tomisbaeholland