#And again it's slow. It's in bits and piece and back and forth. My worst habit is switching something from religious to moral

[gxlden-angels]

do you have any thoughts on the story of abraham and isaac? my parents talk about it and praise abraham for being willing to kill his son which..... scares me to say the least, and i'd love to hear your perspective as someone who seems more well-adjusted

Where I am now, it disgusts me more than anything. The interpretation of "I'm willing to sacrifice your life if I was told to" feels like the step before "I put you into this world and I can take you out of it." It's entitlement to a child, who is an independent individual, just because they are dependent on you for survival. I prefer the interpretation of understanding the actions you're taking and the reasons why (like how there's multiple religions that don't eat pork because it was so unsafe to eat at the time), especially if it's at someone else's expense.

Where I was in the thick of it all, it gave me morbid comfort that scares me now. I had fantasies of being a martyr for the church and the idea of being the next Isaac was just so appealing. Being a hand-selected sacrifice chosen by the Good Lord Himself? Sign me the fuck up, babey!

I think if I admitted that to my family, they'd be horrified.

It's another one of those stories or beliefs where I think the majority of christians just regurgitate what they've heard. It's a point of pride and devotion, but there's no personal reflection or cross-cultural awareness of it. Lean not unto your own understanding and whatnot. It's the potential that scares me the most, like the Quiverfull movement with the Duggars or Turpins. I'm sure there's stories now, but I can't remember them off the top of my head

(Also I will be telling my therapist someone on Tumblr called me "more well-adjusted" thank you anon)

[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader) pt 11

We're back! Finally after four months we're back! I appreciate your patience, I promise you all, the really good stuff I've been dying to write is coming up real soon. I've also updated the masterlist to include some of the fanart I've gotten in the meantime and a couple oneshots/requests.

(To the anon who requested the fic about sick Helina I WILL eventually write it, I promise, it's still in my inbox)

No warnings today, really. I hope you all enjoy!

@thedeimoshimself @eli-chris @antartzz @your-local-furby

The clacking of keys slows to a stop, and the office is momentarily quiet, save for the winds outside the window. You take a moment to stretch, your spine aching from your horrific posture the past few hours. You sit up straight and let your eyes scan over the freshly typed ink. 

I can only imagine how he looks right now, but I know for certain he’s looking at me. I know the warmth of sunshine shining on my face, and how his hand wraps so protectively around mine. I feel the smile on his lips when he brings my knuckles to them.

I feel my heart blooming in my chest, a symphony of words too loud and too many to come out all at once. I want to sing his praises, chant in holy prayer, make the world my stage for a performance no composer or director can ever match, but tonight’s antics have left me too tired.

Instead, I lean in close, and I tell him I love him. 

Gently, you begin the process of removing the page from the typewriter. You pull it free and smooth out the paper. Your hands move to the top of the page and you rip it in half. You turn the ripped pieces to the side and rip them into quarters, then eighths, so on and so forth until you have a little pile of homemade confetti sitting on your desk. At that point, you place your head in your hands and let out a frustrated yell.

This is the End. The finish line is within sight, and it feels like every time you try to write the final lines to this book, you’re finding new ways to trip and fall face first into the dirt in this proverbial race. Endings are always the worst part of writing any story, and you still haven’t figured out how to actually end this story. You know how and where it ends, you’ve known for years, but your efforts feel fruitless. The words you thought sounded great in your head read like nonsense when physically typed, and do not give justice to everything else you have written down. You love your other books, you do, but with those ones, they were more formulaic, more cliché, simpler. They were not unique, and your readers did not care so much as they could imagine themselves in the arms of a loving gentleman or prince or noble or whoever they wish would love them. This book is different, and as such, there is high reward and even higher risk if the audience gets to the end and is greeted by disappointment.

Or maybe, and this is a very big maybe, you have spent too much time writing and not enough time sleeping or eating? A little bit of column A, a little bit of column B. All this to say you are in desperate need of a break.

Your father is at work and your mother is out of town for the day to visit your extended family. You like the peace and quiet it gives, especially considering last week’s public spectacle with your father. He hasn’t said a word to you, not since the argument was recounted in the paper (though it did not make the front page, thankfully). You heard your mother scolding him for making an ass of himself by nearly brawling with his own son for days, though she didn’t say much about how it started because he threw a fit over homosexuality. You think she should have maybe focused on that a little more, but you’re not in the mood to bring that up again.

It should be break time for the staff, so the kitchen is empty. You use the opportunity to make yourself a late lunch, or really late breakfast. It’s a simple sandwich that’s mostly ham and cheese, though it’s tempting to grab some of the pastries your mother bought as an apology on your father’s behalf. You’re saving those for after you finish your book.

You’re halfway through scarfing your sandwich down when the kitchen doors open. You look over and see Colleen, looking mildly frantic and then shocked when she sees you leaning against the counter with a sandwich. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here. I was worried when you weren’t in your study.”

You swallow. “What is it?”

You’re biting back into your sandwich when Colleen informs you “Lord Pantalone is here.”

“... Wha?” you ask, with your mouth half full.

You see the man’s face as he peers over Colleen, smiling as he is one to do. He says nothing, simply waving. You barely avoid choking on your food, and don’t imagine the sight of you narrowly spitting up a half chewed lump of ham, bread and cheese is a flattering site. You swallow the lump down, and it’s not a pleasant feeling. 

You stand up straight, face flushed. “Regrator! I… did not think you would be here!”

Pantalone laughs, taking in the sight of the kitchen. “Good afternoon to you too,” he says, “I hope I’m not interrupting something?”

“No, no, not at all,” you say. It’s not lost on you that you probably look terrible right now. Your clothes are clean, but entirely too casual for a meeting with Pantalone, you haven’t slept, haven’t shaved in a few days and wait, shit, when was the last time you showered? You think it was a couple nights ago, but you secretly fear it’s actually been several weeks. (You know it hasn’t, but your unkempt appearance in front of a pretty man is making you internally panic.)

You offer a very clearly tense smile. “So! What brings you here?”

“I was curious as to why you haven’t replied to any of my letters,” he explains. “I know you’re busy with your book and all, but I figured surely we have enough rapport that you would write me back.”

“... What?”

He tilts his head. “My letters. The letters I’ve sent you.”

“I genuinely do not know what you’re talking about,” you reply, “I have not received any letters, and no one has mentioned anything about you sending us mail.”

“How strange,” he remarks, “I have my staff personally deliver it all, so it’s odd you haven’t received any of it…”

You conjure the mental image of either your mother or father, possibly both, angrily sorting through the mail and confiscating anything that has your name on it. That’s something you’re going to have to bring up at some point, or you can just snoop through their room. You’re fairly certain you know the safe’s code, but it’s not like it would be hard to guess if you didn’t know. You’re one of five siblings, after all, one of your birthdays has to unlock it.

You put a pin in that for later. “So… is there anything specific you need me for? Since I haven’t replied to any of your letters.”

“Well, I had cleared my schedule to invite you for tea,” he says, “but I can assume by your appearance that we’ll have to reschedule?”

Ouch. You force out a laugh. “Yes, today is unfortunately not a good day for me.”

“Clearly.”

“Can I offer you anything?” you ask. “I’m not sure what we have as far as tea goes, that’s more my mother’s thing, but ah…” 

Pantalone watches the figurative light bulb go off in your head, and you immediately begin rummaging through the cupboards. He looks to the maid next to him, silently asking if this is normal, and even she seems confused by your behaviour. There’s something mildly amusing about it, so he continues observing you.

“I just got these yesterday,” you say, then turn around holding a small dish in your hand. Sitting in the centre is a small fried cake with some sort of cream and jam swirled on top of it. You walk over and offer it to Pantalone. “Here, I hope a little vdolek will suffice as an apology for not writing to you.”

Graciously, your unexpected guest accepts your offering. “Why, thank you, my dear writer.”

You don’t see Colleen slip out of the kitchen, but you’ve also forgotten she was there to begin with. Pantalone brings the little pastry up to his lips and bites into it, humming cheerfully. He licks some of the cream off his lips and you turn your attention back to your lunch lest your mind linger on that image too long.

“Delightful,” he comments, “I’ll have to get some next time we meet. I know a marvelous blend of black tea to pair this with.”

“S-Sounds good.”

Get it the fuck together.

There’s a minute or two of quiet as the two of you finish eating. You hear Pantalone set the dish down, and you’ve now grown very familiar and very fond of how audible his smile is. “So, how is the book?”

“You’ve got better eyes than me,” you joke, gesturing to yourself, “I think you can tell how it’s going.”

“They’re really not that much better,” he says, pointing at his glasses.

“They’re correctable.”

“Fair enough, now do you mind answering the question?”

“It… It’s going.”

Pantalone gives you an odd look. “Going? Good or bad?”

“It’s going to kill me,” you tell him, “I am right at the end, and I’m stuck on the last few lines and have been for two days now.”

Pantalone smiles sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that. What is it specifically that you’re stuck on?”

“I just can’t think of anything that isn’t really underwhelming compared to the rest of the story,” you explain, “it either brings down the quality of the story as a whole, or it feels like the story just stops rather than ends.”

You feel Pantalone studying your appearance, and once again feel self conscious. It doesn’t help when he smiles cheerfully and says “I think you’re well overdue for a break.”

You shake your head. “I am this close to the end, if I stop now I’ll lose the little momentum I have.”

“And how is that working out for you?”

“It hasn’t stopped me yet.”

“In all seriousness, you really should take some time to adequately rest,” Pantalone tells you. “I am very much the pot calling the kettle black, but my occupation has much higher stakes. You don’t gain much from all-nighters or working through your meals compared to me. Or, rather, I suppose it’s more accurate to say I stand to lose a lot if I don’t put all my effort in, but that’s all semantics.”

“Thank you, mom, I’ll remember to eat my veggies too.”

Pantalone chuckles. “Goodness, you’re rather petulant when you’re tired.”

Your face flushes again. You look at the ground, and imagine this isn’t helping the petulant accusations. Shaking your head, you look back up at Pantalone and stand up straight again, like a good and mature host would. 

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” you ask. “I’d be happy to spend time with you but I do have a deadline to meet in a few days.”

“So eager to kick me out,” he teases, “but I guess I won’t take it too personally. I suppose I did drop in rather unexpectedly for you.”

You make your way out of the kitchen, Pantalone following behind you. “To be honest, I don’t think I would have been able to meet up anyways if I did know.”

Pantalone looks over his shoulder and sees the maid from before standing next to the door, clearly listening in. Her face flushes, and she promptly walks the other way while you are none the wiser. “That’s a shame. I was rather looking forward to talking to you without your family interrupting.”

“You can still do that,” you tell him, “just not for long. Deadline aside, my mother will have an absolute fit if she hears you came by.”

“Then I’ll make it quick,” he states, “I want to know more about your typewriter.”

You pause, and turn around. “My typewriter?”

“It’s been on my mind for some time now,” he explains, “I recognize the brand as we use their typewriters at the bank, but I’m not familiar with that specific model. Now granted, I don’t typically use typewriters, so I’m sure there’s a gap in my knowledge there, but in the times I have gone looking for new typewriters, they’ve never had that model as an option.”

Moments ago, you looked tired, frustrated, and drained. Your appearance is still a little unkempt, but you noticeably perk up as soon as Pantalone explains himself. The bags under your eyes are dark, but the fatigue has faded. Your posture, slightly hunched from your time at your desk, has straightened. You smile.

“Oh, that’s because mine is from a now discontinued line,” you explain, then pick up your pace. “I believe there was also a limited stock of them, but I don’t think they were necessarily limited edition. They were just very expensive to buy and even more expensive to make, not to mention they required very brand specific tools and repairs, hence why the line was eventually discontinued some… twenty-five years ago?”

“Fascinating.”

“That’s what I can recall off the top of my head, anyways,” you tell him as you begin climbing the stairs to the second floor. “There aren’t very many of them around now. They were difficult to repair as is, but they don’t even make the parts for them anymore. The only way you can fix them is if you somehow find another one that hasn’t had the part you need harvested. Despite that, it works beautifully when it’s in good condition.”

“It sounds like more hassle than what it’s worth,” Pantalone comments, “but I suppose it must have some value among collectors. My question is why you would use such a delicate piece of equipment as opposed to anything else.”

You reach the top of the stairs, and turn to address Pantalone. “Why would I need a new typewriter when mine works fine?”

“I respect that approach,” he says, “what I meant was there are surely better typewriters out there, ones that aren’t a pain to maintain and completely useless if something breaks. Why not use one of those ones?”

“... Sentimental value.”

Pantalone raises a brow. “Oh?”

You guide the man to your study. You push the door open, and he takes a moment to observe the crumpled pages littering your floor. The door clicks behind him. You take your seat at the desk and motion for Pantalone to come close. He does, standing right behind you. Before you can continue explaining the story, you see his hand reach over and pick at the pile of ripped up paper in front of your typewriter.

“Ah, sorry. Forgot to clean that up.”

“I love him.”

“What?”

Pantalone hands you the torn scrap of paper, which sure enough reads I love him. You laugh. “A-Ah, right.”

“So about the sentimental value,” Pantalone says as you begin sweeping up the ripped pieces.

“This belonged to my grandfather,” you tell him as you dump the pile into the trash, “my mom’s father, he’s where I got my condition. He got the typewriter as a gift from a friend in Fontaine, I believe. He died two years later, before I could meet him. A couple years after I got diagnosed, my grandmother found it, and gifted it to me as a memento of sorts, and I’ve used it ever since.”

“Really now?”

“My grandma said he’d want me to have it,” you say, “and she smacked me when I made a joke about him giving me his bad eyes too. Lightly, of course, but still.”

“You were making fun of her blind, dead husband,” Pantalone remarks.

“If what my family says about him is true, he would have made an even worse joke,” you retort. “I’m giving my nephews and nieces permission to make fun of me if they have it, my grandfather would probably do the same.”

Pantalone chuckles. You turn your head to continue speaking to him, and see he’s looking at you instead of the typewriter. It sort of catches you, mostly because of his eyes. You didn’t really notice it when you met him for tea, mostly because you were more focused on the feel of his fingers holding your face and how close he was, but his eyes are really, really pretty. The light from your window hits his face just right, making his eyes shine like gemstones.

You realize you’re staring again and snap out of it, and you doubt it’s all that subtle. “I am also giving you permission to make blind jokes around me.”

He gives you a bewildered, but amused look. “What? Now why would I want to do that?” “Because they’re funny,” you answer, “that’s why I make them.”

“Yes, but you’re actually blind, or going to be blind.”

You lean back in your chair a bit. “I promise you, whatever you think of, my siblings will have said something infinitely worse and gotten away with it,” you say, “excluding Adéla and Gala, my younger sisters. Gala feels bad making fun of me, and Adéla means what she says.”

(Which is rather hypocritical of her, if you’re to believe your siblings’ words about her getting her son tested for your condition. That and her ongoing pregnancy might be why she hasn’t tried picking a fight with you in a while.)

“If you insist,” he says, “but I suppose I should get going now.”

“Oh, wait, really?”

“You said before that you have a deadline, no?” Pantalone asks, his expression almost curious until you see the way the corner of his lips twitch, how his eyes seem a little too knowing. “It wouldn’t be right to keep you from your work. Hopefully we can better coordinate a visit or outing some other time.”

The only thing stopping you from insisting that it’s okay for him to stay a little longer, really, please stay, is the knowledge that your parents will eventually be home and Pantalone’s presence will cause absolute chaos. That, and the fact you look like shit. Probably worse than when he gave you the letter from Guuji Yae, because you were clearly hungover, but at least you had cleaned yourself up. 

You swallow.

“I wish you could stay a little longer.”

Pantalone tilts his head.

“... but yes, we should, ah, probably pick this up another time.”

He smiles, entirely too knowing for your comfort. “Hopefully next time you actually get my letters.”

You bid Pantalone farewell, but he is already leaving your office without another word. He opens the door, and you briefly see either Colleen or Adelaide staggering back before the door closes.

You load a fresh page into the typewriter, and you stare at it. You stare at it like that is what is going to make the words appear, and somehow you’re always disappointed when it doesn’t. You wish you didn’t rip up the last page now, just so you can make sure you won’t write something as equally terrible.

After some time, your office door opens again. You step into the hallway, now vacant and cold. There’s a weight in your stomach, a growing pit of anxiety as you begin walking down the hall. You pass your room, then Gala’s room, then the bathroom, your siblings’ old rooms, and stop when you reach the door at the end of the hall. The master bedroom, your parents’ room.

The door opens when you twist the knob and push forward. You shiver as cooled air passes you. The fire must have gone out some time ago. It doesn’t stop you from entering though, not when you have a pretty good hunch on why you mysteriously haven’t gotten any letters from Pantalone. 

You waste no time in investigating. You spy an old painting hung up on the wall depicting a younger version of your mother and father on their wedding day. You carefully pull it down from the wall, revealing their safe. You don’t remember what the code is, just that it’s one full turn left, one full turn right, and then left until it’s the last number. You’re fairly certain it’s either their anniversary or one of their children’s birthdays. 

It doesn’t take long for you to be proven wrong. Brow furrowed, you try to think of something else they would use for a code. You consider the day they met, or the day they fell in love, but you have no idea when that would have been. You consider your grandfather’s death date, but that’s entirely too morbid. You’re about to start twisting the dial in any direction until you hopefully hear a click, and then it hits you; they’re grandparents. You quickly try your nephew’s birthdate, and you hear a distinct click sound unlike the turning dial’s. You pull on the handle, and it opens.

You almost celebrate until you see there aren’t any envelopes or letters addressed to you. You see photo albums, some jewellery and trinkets, as well as a few other odds and ends of sentimental value, but no letters.

You sigh, and begin putting everything back in place. Maybe it’s hidden in the study or something, or maybe in your father’s desk at work. You’ll have to ask Lydia to have a peek, though there’s a good chance she would have mentioned that to you already. You’ll still ask her about it next time you see her.

You’re hanging the painting back up when you feel another shiver up your spine. Usually the staff try to keep the fireplaces lit throughout the house to keep everyone from freezing, but for whatever reason, they’ve forgotten your parents’ room. You decide to do that yourself, as your conscience is making you feel guilty about snooping.

You sigh, crouching down in front of the fireplace. You grab the door handles and pull the doors open, seeing the charred remnants of firewood long gone cold. You pick up the fire poker and begin prodding at the wood until you catch sight of something sticking out of the ashes. It almost looks like kindling, but your gut tells you to investigate further.

You reach inside, and you immediately know it’s paper. You pull it from the ashes and sit back. It looks like the corner of a page at first, and then you realize it’s part of an envelope. You flip it over, and your blood runs cold.

You recognize that address. Not too long ago, you were invited to afternoon tea at that exact location. You realize there’s still a bit of paper inside, and you pull it out. The paper falls apart in your dirtied hands, but you can make out the first few characters of your name in familiar handwriting. You feel sick, you feel angry. You don’t know which one of your parents is responsible for this, but this is too far for either one of them. 

It takes you a few moments to compose yourself. When you eventually get off the ground and storm out of your parents’ room, you make sure to leave the burned remnants of your letter in an obvious spot for your parents to find it. You leave ash on the door when you slam their door shut. You want to scream, you want to ask what the hell their fucking problems are, but they’re not here right now. You have new energy to burn, new emotions you need to vent in some way, but most importantly, you have a book to finish, and you’re going to finish it.

[magpiepills]

Kill Shot

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ only, MDNI

Pairing: Ezra x f reader

Word count: 10k

Summary: Alone on the green, you’re ambushed by a stranger. Defenseless, you have no choice but to put your trust in him.

I’m combining three parts into one. Sort of. It’s long. Take a break if you need to. This was originally posted 11/22/23. I’m rebuilding my masterlist, so feel free to skip this if you already saw it the first time.

Warnings: Smut, porn with plot, bit of angst? Oral (f receiving) fingering, weapons, minor violence, dubious consent, masturbation, pet names, homemade sex toy, butt stuff, unprotected PIV, oral, fingering, spitting, dirty talk, bondage, doubled penetration, misuse of valuable root pesrls, teasing, thigh riding, masturbation, etc., etc., so on and so forth. No use of y/n, I’ve tried to make sure the reader is not racially coded, and that physical descriptions are limited to the type of genitals the reader has.

A word from the author: well it’s here! My baby! The story I’ve wanted to write for months and worried over and dreamed of and wouldn’t be quiet about is done. I know tomorrow I’ll think of things I should have put in that I didn’t, that I’ll go back and find typos, that people may not like it, but this has made me happy. This is my birthday present to myself and this fic has been a very useful distraction from some pretty heavy things. I’ve got a soft spot for this fic. I have a soft spot for Ezra. I love him. I love Prospect. I loved getting to spend time there as I wrote. Many thanks to all my magic sluts for the love and encouragement and for reading this shit. I love you.

ACT I: Fool’s Gold

Maybe you should have taken your grandmother's advice. “Nothing out there for a girl on her own. Just trouble. Won’t be worth it.” She had said, shaking her head. You could hear the weariness in her voice even as she sat wringing her hands on another planet. You knew she was right. Nothing could stop you though, not when your mind was made up. You’re a stubborn woman in a long line of stubborn women, and both of you knew that no amount of good sense would keep you from sinking all of your savings into a second hand environmental suit, a new laser scalpel, and a deposit on a parcel class drop pod that looked like it may not make it past Central in the first place. You scavenged for the rest of the equipment, building a small cache of slurry packs, a few refreshers, enough chem to extract several cases worth of the rare gems you sought, and borrowed a thrower. It was folly at best, elaborate suicide at worst and most likely. But what was the saying? “No guts, no glory?” Maybe it was best not to think of your guts right now. Maybe “Nothing ventured, nothing gained” was more apt. It didn’t really matter now, anyway. Nothing mattered after his first words pierced the peaceful bubble of your harvest.

“Don’t move.”

You froze, knelt on the soft, damp earth. Your knees grew cold and wet, elbow deep in the shallow cavern where the aurelac spread below the surface. The raspy voice crackled through your ear piece, stilling your heart, slowing your blood.

You didn’t need to see the weapon to know what was pressed against the back of your neck. The weight of the metal held you in place. You closed your eyes, and resigned yourself to your fate, readying yourself to meet Kevva much more readily than you thought possible. You’d like to have fought back, but you couldn’t reach your own side arm, it lay uselessly next to your scalpel and the bottle of fazer that, tipped into the cavern below, would surely kill you both. “Don’t even think about going for that thrower, either.” The voice was so casual, threatening your life like he was reading the weather report. You did as he said, accepting defeat, hoping your life and your harvest was all he wanted. There are worse ways to die than choking on the dust. “Gooooood,” he purred, “Now lay on your belly. Don’t try anything.”

Again you obeyed, but before you were settled on the ground, his boot connected with your hip, sending you rolling to your back with a yelp. Before you could get your bearings, his boot was on your chest, enough weight behind it to hold you down, compressing your sternum uncomfortably. From this angle, you could appreciate how beautiful the green moon was, soft pinkish-blueish clouds diffusing across the sky where Bakhroma was setting. Dust floated up and for a while you could forget that it was poisonous. You stared up at the sky and the canopy of green until the sunlight on his rail gun caught your eye. You stared down the engraved barrel, waiting for him to shoot you, or worse. Whatever he was going to do, you wished he’d just do it.

You grabbed feebly at him, hoping that if you put up more of a fight he would do something or say something, but he didn’t. What was he waiting for? It was infuriating and terrifying to wait while a stranger decided what to do with your life. You wanted to yell, to tell him off, to beg, but when you finally looked at him, all the words escaped. His visor was scratched and pitted, his suit was ill fitting and dirty, but his eyes were big and sad and desperate. His lips were parted, as if he were as speechless as you were.

His aim faltered almost imperceptibly, and he furrowed his brow. “Looks like I’ve got a rabbit in my garden.” Your anger boiled back up and you dug your nails into his calf as best you could through his insulating layers. Your efforts were in vain and he chuckled. “Not a rabbit. A pussycat.” You wanted to scream. Finally he shifted his weight and moved his foot so that he was standing above you, straddling your hips, his grip in the thrower more relaxed. “What’s in the case, pussycat? Show me.” He tilted his head toward your aurelac case, only half filled with your spoils. “Go on. Let’s see what you’ve got. Easy.” He stepped back, giving you room to get up. You took your first full breath since his shadow first fell on you, then unlocked the case and shoved it toward him.

Eyes sparkling, he silently tabulated the value of your pull. You hoped he would just take the case and run, that would be the best case scenario. You could still get home, prove your grandmother right, lick your wounds, and find an honest job back on the Pug. Forget this disaster ever happened. Try to find another way to pay off the debt of the wrecked and destroyed pod.

“You harvest all this yourself?” He asked, and you weren’t able to determine what answer might be safest. Do you tell him you’re alone? Pretend you’ve got a whole crew waiting for you on the other side of the ridge? Before you could decide which tack to take, he continued. “Haven’t seen anyone in this sector in some time now. No landers, either. You’re alone, I reckon. You got a camp?” Resigned to whatever fate awaited you, you shook your head. You didn’t have a camp. You had a tent that you put up every night and took down every morning, counting on your impermanence to offer some safety. Fat lot of good that did. You chest was suddenly tight and tears welled in your eyes faster than you could blink them back. “It’s not safe out here for a girl on her own.” The irony of his warning did nothing to stem your crying. He looked away, out of disgust or pity or embarrassment for you, you didn’t know. You wished you could wipe your face.

After a humiliating moment, he spoke again. “Alright.” He gestured around at your meager equipment with the barrel of his thrower, “Get your kit. You’ll come with me.”

“No.” You said, not sounding half as sure of yourself as you’d hoped you would.

He raised his eyebrows at you and lifted the thrower again, careful not to point it right at you this time. “I wasn’t askin’, pussycat. You’re alone, you can harvest, and now you’re coming with me. This is the best case scenario for you. Move.”

The image of your scattered bones, covered in moss and ferns, little yellow flowers sprouting between your ribs flashed in your mind as you packed your things. All the things but the aurelac, which the man with the gun held onto.

He gestured toward an opening in the woods, “Ladies, first.” Chivalry is alive. You trudged in silence, following a path so lightly treaded you could barely see it.

The air was thicker, heavier with motes of poison dust than it seemed to be when you were alone. It gave you a sense of hopelessness and dread. A heaviness in your chest that you hadn’t known even when you found yourself lost in the dense forest. Your captor never fell out of step, always right behind you with his rail gun trained at your side, your case of aurelac banging against his leg as he picked carefully through the woods. He talked as he walked, introducing himself simply as “Ezra” and lamenting the dust, cursing his equipment, pointing out things in the landscape that were supposed to be of interest, but failed to pull you away from your singular focus of trying to remember your path. Your eyes darted around, looking for any anomaly in your surroundings, anything you could use to find your way back somehow. “Back when these hills were full of raiders…” his voice droned on, “There was a fella that went by Alam that used to…” on and on for what felt like hours while your skin itched under your wet clothes. “Here it is. Home, sweet home. Doesn’t look like much, but it is adequate for the savvy returner.”

Ezra stood before a tattered and faded tent, obscured by vegetation and dust that had collected along the seams. You would have walked right past it if he hadn’t guided you here. He unzipped and quickly ushered you inside with a hand on your back. Zipped back in, he turned on a space filter, it popped and whirred for a moment before Ezra began tossing aside his helmet and undoing the snaps and fasteners of his suit. He must have seen the panic on your face as he undressed. “You can take the cot on the right.” His voice was careful, and he turned away from you as he shrugged out of his suit, leaving him in a long sleeved white shirt and gray thermal pants that fit snugly to his legs. “There’s a refresher in the back if you want to clean up, and whatever you want for supper as long as it’s Pastors Henry.” Ezra smiled warmly and you nodded, acknowledging his hospitality without a word.

You sat on the creaking cot and removed your helmet, then rummaged through your pack for clean underclothes before closing the refresher curtain around yourself to finish undressing. You felt more naked than ever before, more vulnerable with only the curtain between you and your unwanted companion, but it did feel good to wash off the sweat and grime from your body and hair. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been able to bathe without needing to hold your helmet and filter tube while you swabbed at yourself with a damp cloth.

When you emerged, fresh and dressed, you found Ezra sitting on his own cot with your aurelac case on his knee, admiring your haul with a small loupe.

He looked up and allowed himself only the quickest glance over your body before settling on your eyes. “This is excellent work. Near master level harvesting. Look. Nary an imperfection. Did you really do all this yourself?”

Without his helmet on, standing this close to him, you could hear him wheezing as he breathed. You could see the delicate curve of his nose and the silvery scar on his cheek, the shock of white in his uncombed hair above his temple that made him look right at home on the untamable moon.

“I did. Taught myself, wasn’t always so good.”

He passed you a pouch of slurry, bumping his own against yours before taking a hearty swig.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

“Same as you, I imagine. Trying to make my fortune before the BG line shuts down for good. Thought it was worth the risk. Thought I could make enough to spend the rest of my life on Lao. Thought wrong.” Your voice dropped and you studied your hands in your lap at the last sentence, embarrassed at the accusation against the man who was feeding you dinner and giving you a bed to sleep on, even if you didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“It’s dangerous out there.” He said, not for the first time. “There are still raiders, kips, only desperate men left now that the rush is past. And that’s only the men, Pussycat. Do you understand? I think we could help each other. I’ve got the equipment, the chem, and the weaponry. I just need your steady hand. I can keep you safe, girl. You’d be top hand. We could be rich.” You met his gaze, but didn’t speak, waiting for him to continue. “I know you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either, but I want you to consider my offer. An equal partnership for a limited engagement.”

It sounded too good to be true. If Ezra was willing to help you harvest, take care of the details so you could make the extractions and offer some protection, it might not be so bad to take one more risk.

The soothing cadence of his voice let you imagine the possibilities he was presenting. It lulled you, gave you time to study the thick vein on the side of his neck, the wide expanse of his shoulders, the strength of his thighs, and the thickness of his paddle-like hands. You didn't doubt he could protect you, but for a fraction of a second, you thought of other ways he might help a girl who was all alone. As quick as the thought came, you chided yourself. This man had just held you at gunpoint, he may yet kill you in your sleep. This was no time to think of meeting any needs but survival. Even if it had been a stand or two since you knew the comfort and pleasure of that particular human touch.

“Let me sleep on it. We can’t do anything tonight anyway.”

He nodded and hummed. Your lingering gaze hadn’t gotten past him. He knew the look well. He ran his hands slowly from his thighs to his knees, a casual thing, but he hoped to tap into whatever you’d seen when you’d let your eyes rove over him.

“A judicious measure. We will let it simmer and come back to it in daylight. I’m going to hit the refresher myself, I can’t be good company filthy as I am.”

•••••

In the narrow refresher stall, Ezra stripped off his clothes, eager to wash away the sticky layer of sweat that clung to him, anxious to run his hands over his body under the tepid stream of recycled water. He thought of you, how close he was to dispatching you, a lone prospector, until you were on your back and he was close enough to see a much bigger picture. His ship, his gems, a way off this forsaken moon. It seemed too easy, too perfect. And now? The unmistakable gleam in your eye added an extra layer to the whole scheme, an auspicious twist in his designs.

Following the trail of water running down his chest and belly, his hand found his cock half hard. He tipped his head back with a heavy sigh, and stroked himself. He thought of the fear in your eyes, thought of how easily you obeyed him, how your thin tank top did nothing to hide your pebbled nipples. He imagined you on your knees, or under him, the sounds you’d make for him when he filled you with his cock. Close to release, he squeezed the base of his cock hard, staving off his orgasm, letting the moment slip away. For so long he believed he might never see another woman. The green is all but abandoned, but even when the rush was at its peak women were scarce. The green moon is harsh and unforgiving, the poisonous atmosphere seemed suited only to the foolish, the reckless, and the criminal. Here you are through, not just on the moon, but in his tent, on his cot, and ripe for the taking.

•••••

While Ezra freshened up, you sat on the little cot, repacking your harvesting kit, making sure nothing was broken when you hastily packed. He hasn’t been unkind. Not really. You knew that prime territories on the green moon used to be fought over, and that people died when they harvested in someone else’s dig. You’d assumed that since the green was mostly abandoned now that would be a thing of the past, but maybe you’d been wrong. Could you really blame him for defending his claim? Maybe you’d have done the same thing if you were him. Your shoulders relaxed a bit. This could work, you thought. You hadn’t planned on having a partner, but if you were both lonesome out here and you could team up for mutual benefit, why not? And it didn’t hurt that he was handsome. You’d keep your guard up, of course, but what harm could come from an alliance?

If your mind wasn’t made up to accept his offer, it would have been when he stood at the end of the tent, bathed in the orange light of the singular lantern illuminating the small space. Wearing only a pair of snug black undershorts, he was a vision. In his suit he looked scrappy, but like this he looked more virile. Broad at his shoulders and narrow at his hips, he cut a fine figure. You didn’t mean to stare, but it was as if he had his own magnetic field drawing you in. Sheepishly he sat on his own cot. “I’ve only got the one set of clothes. Never bunked with a woman in the crew like this before, I hope you don’t mind.”

You shook your head and he leaned back on both hands, smiling. “I’ve got to wash my clothes,” he explained, “you might as well throw yours in too.”

You only had one spare set of clothes, the thin tank top and leggings you wore and the warmer set that you had under your suit. It could all use a wash. Before you could list the pros and cons of your actions, before you could consider the outcome if this didn’t go like you thought it might, you stood up. You fetched the first set of clothes, then hesitated only a second before taking off what you had on. “Might as well start with everything fresh.” You smiled at your new partner.

Ezra exhaled roughly, not hiding the way his eyes wandered over your naked body. You bundled all your clothes together, crossed the short distance to the other side of the tent. He watched you in silence, chest rising and falling, breath catching on every inhale, cock responding instantaneously. “Might as well.” He agreed. One pointed downward flick of your eyes had him stripping off his final layer of modesty as well.

The snap might have been audible. You couldn’t tell. It could have been his patience, or it could have been the saturation sensor on the air filter. Once his lips were on yours it didn’t really matter. His kiss was suffocating and urgent. He held you tight, right arm banded around your waist, trapping his hard cock between your bodies, wetting your stomach with the sticky fluid he wept. His left hand cradled the back of your head, holding you just how he wanted you, you were dizzy with his kiss.

You melted into his embrace, his scent, his sounds, his radiating heat. You let him guide you onto his cot, onto the blanket that smelled like him. “Ezra” you whined, needing him to give you something to meet an intangible need that was thrumming in your core.

“Mm.” He mouthed against your neck and ear, across your collarbone, scratching your skin, leaving a tender path where his lips had been. “What are the odds, little pussycat? What are the odds that I found you here? Maybe the last two people on this moon. All of time and space, and I’m here with you, pretty girl.”

His words made your face feel warm and your heart pound harder. They hung heavy in the air around you as he shifted down the little bed, propping himself on his elbows to cup your breasts, gently squeezing them in his warm palms. He licked and sucked at your nipples, marveling at how they hardened, shiny with his spit, he blew across them, sending a chill up your spine that made you arch up into him.

“A girl like you shouldn’t be here.” His words were whispered against your stomach as he sank down further, “need to be looked after.” He kissed and licked the tender skin below your belly button. “Need me to take care of you, don’t you?” His voice was so soft and hypnotic. Your eyes met and he didn’t drop your gaze as he kissed your mound, your thighs, making your breath hitch when his tongue dipped into your slit. Ezra groaned at the taste of you, at how wet you were, how pliant to his will.

“Ezra” was the only language you spoke, slurring it as you threaded your hand through his hair, stroking the little patch of white with your thumb while his own was slipping up and down through your folds, spreading your slick over every velvet ripple. You rolled your nipple between your fingers and felt as if you were being taken up a mountain, up and up and up he pushed you, each lick, each kiss a step closer to the peak, every breath and coo, every word of praise and pity brought you higher. His fingers found your entrance and pushed inside, making you cry out into the dim light of the stuffy tent.

Ezra watched with his cheek on your thigh as you rocked your hips against his hand, searching for release. He could do this thing all night, making you a boneless little mess, making you cry just for him, he liked the power. He wasn’t a cruel man, though, and he showed you how merciful he was when he returned the flat of his tongue to your clit then sucked the swollen bud between his lips and he curled his fingers inside you, sending you over the edge of unmatched pleasure.

Cum dripped over Ezra’s knuckles as he watched you ride out your orgasm, and he considered bringing his hand to your mouth to see if you’d lick it clean, but he thought better of it, wiping it on his blanket instead. Another time, he thought. How he would love to see your pretty face painted up with his seed.

•••••

“Do you think this was meant to happen, Ezra?” You asked him, nipping at his chin as he held you, tucked against his chest on your cot. “Were we destined to find each other out here?”

You felt his warm breath against your hair as he thought. “I think the stars aligned in our favor, and fortune is all but assured.”

Sleep came easily in Ezra’s strong arms, safe and secure, knowing tomorrow would be a new start.

ACT II: Wild and Woolly

Daylight didn’t look much different from night in Ezra’s tent. Light filtered in through the leaves of the trees and the accumulated dust just enough to let you know that the sun had risen. The soft orange glow isn’t what woke you, though.

It was the heavy weight on your back, hot and crushing, it wrapped around you as you slept half on your stomach. As your groggy mind filled in the details of the last day, you felt the weight shift and wheeze. Ezra. He wasn’t a dream. He was real and he was here and he was nearly on top of you. With every movement his grip around you tightened. One arm was under your neck, with a hand anchored to your shoulder, the other was around your waist, fingers tucked posessively into the front of your panties. You couldn’t tell if he was awake yet, so you stayed still, hoping he would stay just like this a while longer.

You grew wetter while you tried not to move, savoring the tension, feeling the firm length of him on your thigh, listening to his ragged breathing. It would take so little to just shift over a bit and let it rest between your thighs. Your mind wandered to distant times and places, places where the two of you had pulled every bit of aurelac from this miserable place, socked away a fortune beyond your wildest dreams, and lived together forever, indulging in every possible pleasure. You thought of how he might look with the juice of some exotic fruit dripping down his chin as you sat astride him, jewels even rarer than the ones you’d found all hung about your neck, his cock inside you, deep as he could get, drawing orgasm after shaking orgasm from each other on the plushest bed money could buy. Two hedonists, drunk on their spoils.

You imagined what his cock might look like. It felt heavy against you now, but was it thick? Was he uncut? What did he look like when he took it in his own hand? Would he look into your eyes while he worked his length with familiar strokes until he made himself come? Would he bite his lip or would he moan? The image you crafted of him with cum dribbling over his knuckles, onto the drab green of his environmental suit made you clench. Suddenly, seeing how he looked when he came was the most important thing you could think of. Damn the aurelac.

“What are you dreaming about?” He murmured against your neck, snapping you suddenly from your daydream. “It must be good, the way you’re twitching.” When you didn’t answer he rocked his hips into you. “Want to know what I dreamed about? Hm? I dreamed about a lake. It was dark and deep and I could feel it callin’ to me until I walked into it. I couldn’t swim though, and I was about to drown until I felt you bucking into me.” That hand that was slipped into your underwear was cupping your mound now, fingers flat against your slit, giving you enough pressure to let you know he knew exactly what he was doing to you, that devil. His lips brushed against your ear as he dropped his voice even lower, “What do you think it means?”

The tent was stifling. Too hot to think, too close to him. You stammered, unable to formulate any logical response. The question forgotten, Ezra pushed into you, grinding his cock harder against the plush of your ass as his hand slipped lower, dipping into your wet folds to spread your slick messily over your pussy, making circles with his flattened fingers. Twice he circled your entrance before returning to your throbbing clit, teasing you with the promise of more, making you whine and cant your hips into his touch before he pulled his hand back, sucking his wet fingers into his mouth with an exaggerated hum of satisfaction and smack of his lips. Obscenity was second nature to him, it seemed.

“Guess we will have to think on it. Get suited up. Time to go find our paydirt.” With a gentle smack to your ass with his wet hand, he stood and went about his routine, packing his kit, scrubbing filters, cleaning his rail gun, and fastening his helmet on. You watched as he busied himself, not daring to finish what he had started, even if you could feel your heart beating in your core.

Trudging back through the thick vegetation, you listened to Ezra breathe and murmur his promises to you. You walked a few paces ahead of him and he covered you from behind, admiring the way the curves of your ass and hips filled out your suit. They weren’t made for figures like yours, and he was grateful to get to watch how you strained against the thick material. He dreamed of peeling it back off you and memorizing your shape with his hands, that he might be able to remember how you felt one day after you’re gone, when he’s alone in the tent, fucking his hand and dreaming of the lost girl of the green.

For what felt like hours you trekked through the forest, dispassionately studying the moss, the ferns, the vines, the flora and fauna of this strange place with the poison dust that glittered all around you. You ambled along as Ezra prattled on about his crew, his ship, his trials and tribulations, exaggerated for dramatic effect you were sure. It didn’t matter, because you liked his voice. It was so rich and thick, and his inflection and cadence made everything so much more exciting. His foreign drawl was a viscous thing that washed over you, warmed you, disarmed you. It was an elixir he administered with practiced precision for maximum effect. He knew exactly the dose to put you under his spell.

When you make it to a small clearing, you see the telltale signs of an aurelac deposit, the earth just slightly raised in small clusters. Anyone with an untrained eye would have noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but you and Ezra spotted it immediately. Excitement hummed between you when your eyes met his, dark and shining.

“Look At this. Look at this!” He dragged out the last syllable, rocking back on his heels, he had to stop himself from diving in, extirpating the first heavy node on his own. He took a breath. You’d been cautious, moving slowly and quietly, checking your channels and covering your tracks as you hunted a nest of the fabled root pearls. It was easier to work with a partner, you had to admit. Alone you always had one eye out for danger, and both hands in the ground. Clearly your system wasn’t foolproof, as Ezra had managed to catch you unawares. It still stung to remember your failure. It hurt to know you really couldn’t do it on your own. How few cycles had it taken for this man to find you and take you for his own, to decide for you that you needed him? There was no time to rehash your mistakes, though. You’d wear them with pride.

Ezra paced, checking vantage points around you as you set up. He reminded you of a panther, with his eyes focused and his movements smooth and sure. Your body responded to him, breath quickening and pussy clenching around nothing. You watched and admired how easily he commanded this place that to you seemed untamable, unknowable, so liable to chew you up if it just had the chance. Ezra just made himself at home here. Determination took hold in your chest. Letting your hips sway more than was absolutely necessary, you went about your own unsophisticated routine for setting up your dig. Your laser scalpel, fazer, forceps, diffuser,and tray were arranged on the ground and you were ready.

At Ezra’s assurance that the way was clear, you began the intensive process of harvesting aurelac. First reaching into the ground and locating a node, then clicking on your scalpel to open its fibrous husk. Carefully, you dissolve the membrane inside, and feeling the weight of Ezra’s stare, you barely breathe as you excise the carrom blister- the trickiest part. These things never come away easily, necessitating a firm hand and a decisive slash. One slip of the hand here could compromise the pull. You can’t afford to waste precious time or ruin even the smallest Aurelac pearl. You didn’t need to be reminded that your ability here was the linchpin in the whole operation. Dousing the gem in fazer solution to finalize the process, holding up your bounty for Ezra to see. It was a beautiful specimen. Roughly the size of an egg, and glowing with amber flecks from within. A low whistle came over the radio. “That’s a decent pull, Pussycat. Very nice indeed. I think you better stow that one away for yourself. A little reward.”

Riding high on your first triumph, you tuck the gem in a small case and stash it on the arm pouch of your suit. Ezra’s praise stayed with you as you worked, not bothering to mute yourself so he could hear your panting and groaning as you worked. You knew he could hear you even if he couldn’t see you, and you could hear as he breathed. He was relatively silent for a while as you worked, quickly filling the first collection case and the second, and almost all of a third. The fertile nest had proven itself to be deep and generous. You tried hard to not add up what it all might be worth. It was a lot. A voice inside your head urged you to snap it all up and run. Take it all for yourself. Figure out your own way home. You could buy a space in steerage on any working ship. If you just had Ezra’s rail gun. If he didn’t see your trophy cases, if you could hide them out of sight until he was asleep, if you could get his gun…the plan wasn’t to be.

When he did speak, it nearly caught you by surprise. You were reaching deep into the ground, fingers stretching and fumbling for a bulb when he came across.

“I’m watching you, pussycat. Don’t think about runnin’. I’ll chase you and I’ll catch you every time. I know you haven’t forgotten our deal. I bet you haven’t forgotten how good I can treat you, either. How I’m going to take care of you. I bet you’re still wet from this morning.”

How could you not be? You’d been wet since before he was even awake, wetter when you could feel him watching the sway of your hips as you walked through the forest, and wetter still when your mind swam with dirty thoughts of him taking you right here on the ground.

“Of course.” You answered breathily, looking around to find him a little ways up the ridge to the west of you, his rail gun in one hand, and palming his cock through his suit.

“You tasted so good last night, I can still feel you on my lips, got me aching for more of you.” Your soft whimper in his earpiece egged him on. “Are you going to be good for me? Let me touch you again? You want to feel how hard you’ve got me? What a desperate man you’ve made of me?”

You could hear the way he was fighting to maintain composure and it ate away at your own ability to focus on your delicate work, the reason you were here in the first place. “I want to be good, Ezra.”

Had you been closer you could have seen the way his lip curled into a half smile, just this side of sinister. “Pack up. We’re done.”

By the time you’d gathered and hastily packed everything, Ezra was at your side, shouldering your pack and one of the cases while you took the others. You’d only started to walk back toward the tent when he stopped and turned toward you, tapping his visor against yours, finding your eyes in the dim light. “Follow me and stay close.” Your heart picked up at the change of plans. The twisted path he picked wound up and back down into a hollow in the hills. There, looking battered and abandoned, sat a small ship. It was an early model, a Testin Screamer that was popular back at the beginning of the rush. It looked like it belonged here in the verdant landscape.

The interior was cleaner than you expected, bright and tidy, with the cabin lights and filter in proper order, humming along like it could lift off with the flip of a switch and get you as far as the outer reaches of Spiria if you wanted, maybe further. Awe and confusion collided, giving way to your anxiety again. “Ezra what is this?” You were afraid to ask anything else, not wanting to hear any answers that didn’t suit you.

He didn’t answer at all, though. He just pulled off his helmet and the cumbersome filter rig he wore, dropping them on the floor, eager to get to you and divest you of the same. Your helmet first, then the zippers and snaps, heavy handed and without finesse he stripped you down, leaving you in your panties, suit crumpled around your ankles.

“Ezra” you tried again as he tugged his own zipper down, grunting into your neck as he kissed, hungry and wet from your shoulder to your ear, pinching softly at the side of your breast. He stopped only to free his arms, “My ship.” He finally explained as he stepped on your suit and pulled your legs free in turn before kicking his own aside. “Just needs a starter. All the works are in order, if we can trade some of our aurelac for the right part, we will be creamy. You and I.” He spoke tenderly and earnestly, smoothing your hair, leaving you no space to question, only to trust and abide.

Your partnership with Ezra, enigma that he was, seemed to be ordained. Your cooperation was irrelevant to Kevva’s designs. Ezra is here, you’ve got enough aurelac to give you a life of ease, and now, it seemed, you even had the ship that would take you to that life. It was intoxicating. His scent, the warmth of the air in the hull, the way his grip on your waist tightened as he sucked your stiff nipple into his mouth. It could be so easy to give in when he eased into a seat next to the beeping, humming control panel, pulling you against his chest, sticky with sweat. So easy when his cock was against your belly to just give yourself to him. Let him take what he wanted and sate himself. Something told you though, that he needed the chase. He’s a hunter. Too long without a challenge and he might grow restless and unpredictable. He needs a little fight to keep him sharp. The glimmer in his eyes, when you tried to twist out of his grasp was the confirmation.

“Don’t fight me, kitten.” He warned, pulling you tighter against him, squeezing and lifting to grind your mound against his length. “I can make this wholly enjoyable for you. Let me.” Clearly unsatisfied with your soft eyed silence, he brought his hand down on your ass, making you cry out, more from surprise than pain. Before the sting subsided he repositioned you so your slick cunt was against his thigh. “You want to come? Let me see you take it.”

You started with a timid roll of your hips, watching him watch you as you moved against him, spreading your arousal over his thick muscle. “That’s it. Make a mess. Filthy.” His fingertips dug into your hips as he guided you faster, harder against him. Ezra panted along with you, sweat dampening his hair and running down his neck. “Don’t stop. I know you just want to come. Come for me and I’ll give you what you really want.” He watched your face with parted lips and furrowed brow as you inched closer, rutting against him, desperate, grinding your clit with every backward motion. His hand moved to your breasts, plucked at your nipples, splayed over your chest, felt the pounding of your heart, moved to your neck, your jaw, where his thumb rested on your bottom lip, swiping over it until you opened and let him press it in against your tongue. As you sucked his thumb, the coil that had been winding low in your belly finally snapped. His thumb muffled your cry and his fingers tapped against your cheek.

Without a chance to catch your breath, he held out his hand to you. “Spit.” He looked at you expectantly. “Look at me, pussycat. Look how hard I am. This is because of you. Now, what are you going to do about it?” You let a pool of saliva drip onto his palm, and he spread it over his cock. It was every bit as big as you’d imagined, and beautiful, heavy and thick, foreskin sliding as he stroked himself, revealing a fat and leaking tip. “You’re going to be good and you’re going to get on your knees and help me get it good and wet. The wetter it is, the better it’s gonna feel in that tight cunt. Go on.”

Settled between his knees you couldn’t help but question how you’d gotten here. You felt as if you had been funneled straight to this wild, woolly, articulate man, still a mystery to you but joined now it seemed, the aurelac a contract between you, your alliance more than business. Here now, his throbbing turgid member in your hand, and him, smiling or smirking down at you as you licked lewdly, eyes half lidded, following the hard ridge onto the head where you swirled your tongue. When you worked him into your mouth you felt him jerk, whining softly. His taste was salty and mild, smooth on your tongue and nice. It felt right and good to suck his cock. You lost yourself in his pleasure, varying the speed and depth that you took him, cradling his balls in your palm. You didn’t look to see his face, you didn’t see him bare his teeth. You only felt him tensing and squirming, then his hand in your hair as he pulled you off of him and covered your mouth with his own, kissing you hungrily.

“Don’t get carried away. I’m going to fill you up,” he looked from your eyes to your swollen lips, “but not here.” The implication in the low rumble of his words silenced your mind. There was nothing there but him.

“Ezra.”

“I wanted to bide my time, be a gentleman for you.” Ezra laid you down on the floor, caging you in with his broad, silver scarred shoulders and his strong arms. “The instant I saw you I knew I had to have you, gentle girl. Knew you’d be what I needed.” He dragged the wide head of his cock over your folds, smearing your wetness over your puffy lips and teasing your clit before he lined himself up, but left you in agony as he refused to go any further. No, instead he shifted his knee up under your thigh so he could hold himself up and thumb slow circles over your clit. “I tried to be a good man.” It wasn’t enough. He was so close. He pressed into you a fraction of an inch and then retreated, giving you a delicious pressure but nothing to clench on. You cried and writhed, lifting your hips uselessly, trying to will him into you. Ezra just chuckled. “If you want mercy, you better beg.”

“Ezra!! Ezra, please! Fuck. Fuuuck! Please Ezra, just fuck me!”

“Shhhh.” He hushed you sympathetically, “You can have it.” In one smooth motion he was fully seated, pushing the air from your lungs with all his weight seemingly focused on spearing you. As deep as he could get, Ezra pulsed his hips, making sure you felt every bit of him before he drew back like a bow and plunged forward again, loving the sound you made as he filled you again. He set a slow pace, and you moaned softly at the stretch and fullness of him inside you. The way he dragged against your clit with every being of his hips. Your hands were restless, moving from his shoulder to his neck, up the back to grasp his short, tender curls. Impulsively, you pulled them and were rewarded with a much harder snap of his hips. The force of his movements pushed you up, a problem he remedied by dropping to his elbows, closing you in, holding you close to kiss your neck and breathe into your ear all that he had been consuming him. “Needed you.” He panted. “So good. Taking everything I give, let me do anything. Let me make you use you up…” He trailed off as his thrusts grew sloppy, his tempo uneven. All you could do under his heavy weight was hold on, his neck, his arms, whatever you could reach and your legs around his waist. You gave him one more fluttering orgasm around his cock before the wet sounds of your bodies and the moaning and panting slowly faded as he spilled inside you, filling you with his spend.

All was hazy as you drifted back to yourself. Ezra had stayed inside you, nuzzling you’d neck and jaw, kissing the side of your face. Getting off made him docile and sentimental.

“You don’t belong out here.” He reminded you again. “What if I hadn’t found you? Do you know what could happen to a woman in the green? One sweet like you? As pretty?” He shook his head in disgust.

“You did find me though, Ezra. You’re taking care of me. You found me and we found aurelac and now we just have to get off this moon. We can do what we like now. We never have to put on another helmet again. We never have to leave Lao if we don’t want to. We can swim,” you kissed his bottom lip, “we can eat.” You kissed his nose, “and we can fuck.”

Ezra nodded, sighing and releasing the tension from his shoulders.

That night you tucked yourselves into a bunk on the ship. The filter was better here, and the bed was a better fit for you both, though he still curled around you, tucking your body into his, letting you sleep soundly in his arms.

•••••

Morning on the ship was bright and clear, the sunlight streaming in from a large window above the control panel. You slept better than you had in ages, yawning and stretching and smiling to yourself. It took several blissful moments to register that you were alone.

You called softly for Ezra, hoping he would come if he heard the needy lilt in your voice. Hoped he would remember that you were warm and sleepy and naked in his bed. Hoped he’d come and show you how he thought you ought to be treated.

But he didn’t come.

And he wasn’t in the ship. Not in the cockpit, not in the small hold below.

Panic gripped you as you put on your suit, realizing his was gone and so was the rail gun. You realized that you hadn’t seen which compartment he had

Locked your aurelac in and that you didn’t have a key to open them anyway. Where had he stowed your kit?

Cursing him, you dashed out of the ship, eyes fixed on the swirling dust so you wouldn’t cry. The tent, you decided, was the first place to go. Your tent was there, you could take it maybe you could find Ezra and get your thrower back. Maybe he would be stupid enough to give it to you so you could shoot him. Your heart ached at the thought.

ACT III: Gut The Fencer

Blood rushed through your ears, pounding with your heart as you darted back up the little hill, not caring to cover your tracks. Let them find him! you thought. If you got to him first it wouldn’t matter. Your anger and rage gave way to humiliation and despair. You’d trusted him and you’d been had. What chance did you have now of ever getting back home? Ezra was gone. Gone the aurelac, gone your kit, soon you’d be gone too, one way or another.

You felt sorry for yourself. You thought of something else your grandmother used to say. “Broken hearts want broken necks.” It ached to think of her. You cried, unable to wipe away your tears, they dripped down your cheeks. Your pace slowed as you tried to follow the almost imperceptible desire path that had been made back toward Ezra’s tent. You had to watch your step, ever vigilant of the spore producers that could overwhelm your filter, the rocks and vines, the biting insects, the animals in the trees. So many threats lurked.

You were glad the BG line was shutting down. This Kevva forsaken moon was cursed. Everyone who came here was cursed. Nothing good was here. You kicked and shoved at the branches in your path and as if on cue, you snagged your boot on a vine and fell forward until you were abruptly snatched back up by your arm.

“What are you doing out here?” That familiar voice hissed. “Where are you going, pussycat? Where are you running with no thrower?” His voice was low, angry with a top note of suspicion. Jerking from his grip, your spun to face him, hurt and seething. “YOU left ME, Ezra! I don’t have a thrower because YOU took it. YOU took MY aurelac!” There was more to scream at him, but your voice was cracking so you charged at him instead. You could take out his knees, knock him down, disarm him, and dispatch him. That was the best plan. It was your only plan until your shoulder met his chest and he barely wavered. He just put an arm around you and dared to laugh. “Pussycat. I met with the Sater. They are early risers and I didn’t want to disturb you. I should have told you I was leaving. I apologize for the oversight.”

You softened against him, trying to work out if you should believe him or not.

“Why’d you meet the Sater?” It came out more accusatory than you meant. Ezra smiled at you, wide and boyish. “Let’s discuss this back on the ship. While we walk you can tell me where you were going to so fast that you nearly rolled down this ravine?” He took your hand and led you, looking back every few steps to watch with a sympathetic scowl as you told him how you were frightened when you woke up alone, how you thought he’d used you, abandoned you, left you to die.

By the time you made it back to the ship, apologies were made and re-made, vows to never leave you again sworn, and looks of devotion and care and desire exchanged.

nside the ship, your suits were stripped, his hands cupped your face and yours twisted in his soft undershirt.

Your back met the paneled wall as Ezra’s forehead fell

against yours, he lifted you and held you in place against him. “I’ve got to tell you. I wanted to wait until

It was all finished, but I can’t wait. I went to finalize an entente with the Sater. Our smallest gem for a starter that I can hot wire to this derelict ship. It won’t be long.” You were speechless. It was too good to be true. “Ezra…” you started, but he stopped you with a kiss. “You need to understand me now, Pussycat. I found you for a reason. I’m not keen to give you up. The aurelac is yours, this ship is yours, and you are mine.” He punctuated the last word with a firm push against your wet pussy, making you whine and rock your hips. “This pussy is mine. These tits are mine. Your hands, your mouth, all mine.” His cock swelled against your mound, more precum beading at the swollen head.

“You’re going to let me have you however I want, and I’m going to give you a little present.” You nodded, servile and soft for him.

He moved you back into the bunk where you woke up alone, and called you his sweet girl, his good girl, his only one. He kissed you and squeezed you, made you putty in his rough hands. Arousal dampening your panties so that they stuck to you, translucent, making you throb just to this side of discomfort. He sat up and pulled you across his lap, ass up, legs splayed. He murmured something unintelligible and loving caressed the back of your thighs, up over the swell of your ass, tugging your panties to wedge between your cheeks and pull taut against your aching pussy. Back down, he massaged you, everywhere but where you needed him most. Down your inner thighs, nudging against your puffy lips. As one hand made it’s way up your calf, the other kneaded your ass and inched down to tease at the wet fabric over your entrance.

Circling your ankle in his hand, he pulled your foot toward him, bringing your toes to his mouth and sucking two at a time, making you jump in surprise at the strange sensation. No one had ever done such a thing. It felt dirtier than anything else he had done. While he sucked and hummed around the little digits, his other hand played lazily with your pussy, smacking it gently through the wet fabric, pressing the saturated cotton into your folds to show every detail of your center. He finally turned loose of your foot, but returned his attention ten-fold back to your cunt. Both hands were on you, rubbing, pressing, massaging, smearing slick as he praised your obsequiousness.

You tried hard to keep your breathing steady, so worked up but with no relief, you pinched, pulled, rolled your nipples and keened, rolling your hips looking for more anything. Ezra answered your prayers with one more loud, stinging smack to your pussy.

“Are you ready for your present now? I think you are, if the way you’re soaking my leg is any indication.” You thought he might leave you, go get your gift, but he pulled a small case from under the pillow. An aurelac case. An odd gift considering the amount of aurelac you had struck, but you watched with curiosity as he slid the case in front of you, leaving you across his lap, adjusting his cock.

As expected, inside you found a small aurelac pearl. It was shiny, as if it had been polished and refined, making the reticulation of the amber inside sparkle. It was lovely. “Thank you, Ezra. It’s beautiful.” You twisted back to kiss him, but his eyes had darkened and he had begun running your through again. “Take it out.” He instructed. You carefully plucked the litttle gem from

The case and saw it had been carved. It looked like a spade, an objet d’art. You turned it in your hand, appreciating the fine detail of the shaping and the way the small stand at the bottom was shaped into a perfectly flat circle. It would be perfect on your desk. “Do you recognize it? That’s the first gem you harvested. The Sater are deeply religious, but they do undertake art as well. When you agreed to be mine, well, I couldn’t resist. And now you’ll have a little memento from this dig and from me. Wear it in good health, Pussycat.”

“Wear it?” Was it jewelry? “Ezra, I don’t understood. It’s very pretty though, very sweet of you. Thank you.” You reached for the box to tuck the gem away for safe keeping, but Ezra took it from your hand. “I’ll show you how you’re going to wear it for me. He closed the little sculpture in his hand, warming it as he resumed his ministrations. Sliding his fingers through your folds, brushing over your clit, teasing your entrance, he completed that circuit a few times while you rocked your hips slightly. On the last pass, he dragged a slick finger over your tighter hole. For the second time tonight he made you squirm. “Have you done this before?” He teased, and you shook your head. He dragged his middle finger through your folds and brought it up to join the first, pressing against your tight ring of muscle, you felt him move again, the rustle of fabric, and the snap of a lid. Unable to see what he was doing you could only guess what he was doing.

Soon enough the answer came in the form of a drip of cool liquid. It dripped down, mixing with your own arousal. Ezra spread it around and slowly, determinedly pressed the tip of his finger into your ass. You whined, he soothed you with his soft voice, his free hand rubbing your back gently as he worked. You weren’t aware of the effect it was having on him to be the first one to explore you this way, to have you so wrapped around his finger that you didn’t protest at all as he readied you for the next step. Adding more of the liquid and twisting his finger before joining it with another, the stretch was foreign and new, not exactly uncomfortable, your body seemed to adjust to each new thing he introduced, something you pondered on as he pressed further, sliding the two fingers in and out gently, shallowly, as he thumbed your clit. Your pussy ached for attention.

When Ezra decided you were ready, he positioned the aurelac where his fingers had been inside you, gave a few testing presses, added more liquid, and set to work, pressing, twisting, easing the gem into your asshole as you whined and whimpered, until it was settled, just the wide base remaining. Ezra admired his handiwork. “You’re a marvel. How’s it feel? Big?” You nod, “Yeah, Ez. Big. Full.” Ezra pressed on the little toy, watching with glee as it sank in.

He rolled you carefully to your back, soaking in your naked body, spread out and open for him, and him alone. He bent to kiss and suck at your nipples, up your chest, and licked into your mouth, kissing you deeply, with more passion than you’d ever experienced. The kind you thought existed only in movies. But here he was, so giving and tender, so mad for you and your body, so eager to give and take. You were breathless, both of you when he pulled away, searching your face, staring at your lips. “Open up.” You obeyed. “Stick out your tongue.” You were unsure, but you obeyed. Grinning, he spit onto your tongue. Your eyes went wide as it dripped to the back of your tongue. “Don’t swallow it. Leave it right there while I take more of what’s mine.” You could only nod, breathing hard through your nose as he dragged his cock through your folds, smacking the head against your clit for good measure before easing into your pussy, aware of how much tighter you were, how sensitive you were with your aurelac in place. He moaned, feeling his cock rub against that defiled gem while he fucked your cunt. Slow and easy, gentle, he rocked back and forth, listening to your cries and moans, knowing you couldn’t make the noise you wanted to with his spit in your mouth. “Swallow it.”

Watching you follow his every instruction without question, a toy for him made him hard like never before. He fucked into you faster, spurred on by your uninhibited sounds. He slid his hand between your bodies to tend to your clit, giving you the last little push you needed to come. “Yes! Yes!” You squealed, bucking your hips, squeezing your tits, reaching the highest height you could imagine. You were hot and cold, boneless and rigid, you were nothing until he was inside you. Ezra hadn’t stopped his own pursuit, just slowed until you settled, but now he was on the hunt again, bouncing your ties with every thrust, making wet, sticky sounds fill the air with his sneer. Remembering last night, you reached up and took a handful of his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, never letting go until he was coming with a strangled shout, leaving you dripping his cum. It was exhausting to love Ezra. Terrifying to admit that you loved him. Such a short time in the grand scheme, a tiny tick on the timeline of what would be the rest of your lives together.

You tangled your limbs together, holding each other, whispering sweet things, kissing for a long while until he sat up. “I’ve got one more thing for you, pussycat. Do you trust me?” You promised that you did and he left, rummaged a minute before returning, holding a short length of rope. He climbed in above you and kissed you again, the sort of kiss you wanted to feel forever on your lips. “I want to tie you up. Are you going to let me?” Happy to please him, you held out your wrists. He kissed each one, and crossed one over the other, thing an intricate knot that looked like a bow. You liked being a little gift for him. “One more thing.” He whispered, and ducked out while you waited for his return, eager to see what he had in store, wiggling to feel his gift inside you. You heard movement, and opened your eyes, expecting Ezra, but seeing a figure in black, a Sater. You screamed for Ezra to come save you, but he stepped into view with his hand on the sater’s shoulder, starter in his hand. “You really shouldn’t trust anyone out here, Pussycat.

[silverflqmes]

໒⦂ 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.

synopsis. the fates were cruel. peace was restored to the planet, the incurable illness had at last been quelled, but was all that awaited the hero a somber morrow?

genre. angst + eventual fluff

tw. gore, detailed descriptions of blood, self resentment, descriptions and implications of death, abandonment issues, ac cloud being ac cloud ( that should explain enough ), tiny bit suggestive.

notes. this has been rotting in my drafts for almost three months and taylor swift makes me absolutely disgusting, so enjoy this word vomit and lowkey character study. lyrics are in smaller fonts and italics! my tears ricochet is the song if anyone is curious</3

sephiroth x cloud strife.

we gather here, we line up, weepin’ in a sunlit room.

a frigid breeze swept through blond, unruly bangs, mako tinted sapphires dulling as they flickered to the dented metal surface.

blotches of scarlet still remained, now a shade of burgundy from age, like the finest of wines, pressed of the sweetest grapes. only, it wasn’t wine at all. but under certain circumstances.. what made blood any different from wine, when spilled from someone who dubbed himself to be the planet’s heir?

perhaps, that had been the reason the stains remained. a sign that the fallen angel would rise once more, and claw his way back to the surface. even if it meant swimming through burning waves of mako — the river of jades that rejected his being for his desires to seize what rightfully belonged to him; his birthright.

and.. if i’m on fire,

except, the personified calamity had yet to make his move. the game of back and forth that had been at play for the last eight years was left at complete standstill — unyielding, pieces covered in a sheen of dust and ivy. untouched. unmoving.

at this rate, the board may very well have been abandoned with no choice but to erode until another act would be made.

but having it abandoned was a good thing, right? it was meant to be.. at least.

cloud should be happy — relieved that the fight was over and that all was well again on the planet he’d fought to save all these years. and yet, he found himself feeling empty again, the hollowed sensation having occupied his chest almost ten times worse than the time before.

the blond feared whatever purpose he had was all but lost in his mundane lifestyle of playing delivery boy and house. dulled like the great sword resting a little more heavily than usual on his back.

he was honed and molded to become a soldier.. but what good was a soldier with no battle left to fight? no people left to save? no sephiroth left to-

abruptly, cloud peeled his gaze away from the damage, closing his eyes to calm himself. to breathe.

but even that was no good.

flashes of the battle came back in blurs to him, a broken mirror of memoirs with sharp-edged shards hailing down upon him. in his mind, protection was nonexistent — only a fool would bring an umbrella unless they wanted its fabric shred to pieces.

and so, cloud just let it happen as it always did. he stood and allowed the slices to wash over him. each one splintering impossibly deeper than the last — the more intense memories. otherwise, open wounds left unhealed with ichor left to spill.

cuts adorned his lightly tanned skin the more he stood, watched and endured, rouge pouring from the cracks as they met with lucid streaks that tumbled from his lashes.

was this.. punishment?

you’ll be made of ashes too.

but what for? had he not suffered a sufficient amount of it already? was there no end that finally meant ‘enough’?

even on my worst day,

for whatever reason, his father left his mother to fend for herself and play both roles to cloud, only for her life to be claimed soon after during his untimely return to a place that once was his hometown. a horror scene forever imprinted in his mind of his childhood hero’s slow descent to madness while his dying mother cried out final words for him to run away from it all.

however, cloud did not heed her warning — he did anything but. in fact, he went straight into the core of the flame, uncaring of how it decorated his once unblemished skin with puffy pink welts and smudges of dusty onyx. all insignificant pain when it boiled down to that which his heart had felt- witnessing his safe space crumble before his eyes into the ash that painted his lightly freckled cheeks.

did i deserve, babe.. all the hell you gave me?

it hadn’t stopped there. of course it hadn’t, as there was much to be added to his anguish. the sight of his collapsed friend — another to the list of people he could not face upon his return to nibelheim. his new friend, battered and bruised on the steps, pleading for him to finish off the man he once idolized. the figure in the posters he’d begged his mother to help him hang up on his walls — a pile of ash now, dead at her side. for a monster had killed the hero and taken up residence in his body once his mind had been at its weakest.

without a choice, cloud ignored his broken heart to lunge, cleave and toss aside the man that had once filled him with ambition — with dreams of purpose, and a desire to one day fight alongside him, even.. if fate was to be kind for a change.

it wasn’t, but cloud knew that, despite his aching wish to be proven wrong — to have his delusional, hopeless wants fed into.

'cause i loved you, i swear i loved you..

as if things couldn’t get any worse than killing someone he’d once called his hero, an entirely different form of agony filled his chest later down the line. one that erupted into screams of sorrow on the bloodied precipice outside of their journey’s final destination. almost there, yet so far away.

repetition came to haunt him, attachments stupidly created for cloud to wound up getting broken all over again by the narrative. by the man who repainted a fate that should have belonged to another. someone that slotted perfectly into the role of a hero.. only for it to get handed down to the understudy without a clue and a worn down heart forced to go on despite himself. despite the chipping away at his most vital organ, loss after loss.

and somehow, the greatest one of them all.. had been the very person that brought said losses. a person he should resent, and feel relief to not have walking the earth.

instead, cloud felt as empty as the billowing gray wisps in the sky that would not weep, and stood atop shinra ruins. head hung low, eyes sunken from the lack of rest and shivering skin that he’d refused to cover.

what did it matter, anyway? there was no such thing as a SOLDIER getting sick. death was so out of reach.

yet the greatest SOLDIER to have lived met his end. several times.

'til my dying day.

a strained breath left the former infantryman’s lips as he gazed up at the sullied welkin, puffs of fluff obscuring the usual azure tint that reflected the ocean. it was the same sky as that day, and many encounters before the most recent one.. only, today’s sky was just filled with rain. it thankfully or sadly, had nothing to do with.. him.

part of him wish it had.

what were the last words that had been uttered- vowed to him? that he would never be a memory. that was the response that had been made to cloud’s demanding of him to stay in his memories, where he belongs. it was a promise, to remain. to persist. to defy his nemesis.

but he didn’t.

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace.

sephiroth had gone against his own final monologue and heeded his instead.

the self proclaimed ex-SOLDIER should feel content that for once in the years of their feud, his enemy had finally listened. he went quietly with some petty last words and the peace was restored.

everything on gaia was great, life was carefree and edge was slowly being rebuilt. tifa, denzel and marlene were fine too, his old friends were doing great as well, even if they had their own lives now — ones they had fought to have.

even cloud had made a life for himself, a small business to pair. arguably, he should be at ease, finally retired from having to play the hero for everybody. happy, for a change.

and you're the hero flying around, saving face.

only, there was no feeling of contentment.

how could there be when the one persistent thing in his life — the single stagnant fragment of it throughout all the changes, was gone in spite of the amount of times he’d escaped his demise?

leather scrunched when his gloved hands clenched at his side.

had the possibility existed of taking his words back?

“no.” cloud immediately reprimanded himself, tearing his mako orbiting sapphires away from the last place the late general had been as he forced his legs to take him away. “don’t be stupid.”

but he was very stupid. someone who was smart would not cast aside happiness to go straight to reason behind his grief.

and if i’m dead to you, why are you at the wake?

someone in their right mind wouldn’t be standing there like a fool, risking their very life atop an unstable building, wishing for the source of their anguish to return. to come back and breathe life into them as their foe had on advent day.

“you swore you would never be a memory, but here we are.” cloud whispered the words into existence, hanging his head low. “it’s been so quiet.” he followed somberly, sucking in a breath.

cursing my name,

there was no humming in his head, no excruciating migraines that froze him in his tracks at every corner. hallucinations no longer frequented him, either, but nightmares haunted him till dawn, per norm.

for once, he hated the silence. loathed the tranquility that he nearly destroyed himself to provide.

wishing i stayed,

at least he felt alive when he had purpose, even if it was because his nemesis came back to provide him with one each time he lost his way.

so why.. why not now?

was it the final straw, or something? had sephiroth dubbed that enough was enough? that their endless fight was officially.. over?

cloud gritted his teeth to stop his lips from quivering. “you’re a liar..” he let out brokenly, shaking his head when his vision began to blur over. “you’re such a fucking liar!”

look at how my tears ricochet.

in the end, just like any other relationship, be it a friend, relative, beloved, or in this case, an archnemesis, cloud was left all alone on the planet to mourn those that have gone.

unable to hold himself up any longer, the blond sunk to his knees, clutching at the harness strapped across his chest.

we gather stones,

it was wrong, he knew it was wrong. tears should not be spent crying for his enemy. they should not flow so carelessly as hostility pours from his lips, when really..

he was just pleading to have him back.

he had meant to say.. something else.

never knowing what they'll mean.

sloppily, the former mercenary rubbed at his eyes, tasting the blood on his tongue after biting his lower appendage to still his cries.

sephiroth wasn’t coming back, and cloud.. should not want him back. even at the chance of feeling alive again, instead of the husk of a man that he now was. a boring, fruitless life would have to do. it was safer for everyone.

his choice did not matter, it never did.

a shaky breath spilled from his lips as he removed his hand from his eyes, but kept his head low for measures. not that anyone would be as idiotic as him to scale the shinra remains.

some to throw,

“he’s gone.” he muttered to no one in particular, an affirmation mainly to himself while he cleared the phlegm out of his throat when he swallowed. “you’re gone.”

no response came, of course. except for the light drizzle that finally began to spill over. impeccable timing.

dots littered the scuffed tiles, painting them a shade darker while once eccentric chocobo styled bedhead.. now resembled a rather deflated, depressed looking bird.

it probably suited him better.

some to make a diamond ring.

the wails of the heavens only made his own tears fall freely down his cheeks, gathering into a tiny puddle beneath him. perhaps he should have chosen another, more even spot to drop in, but there was little left to care about.

“you could get sick, kneeling in the rain as you are.” a voice echoed back in a low purr, but cloud kept his eyes snapped shut. of course he was imaging his voice now, that was the only thing that was missing.

delusions that belonged in his dreams to haunt him because his nightmare no longer existed.

you know i didn't want to, have to haunt you..

even still. “SOLDIERs don’t get sick.” he fired back with a sniffle rather than any bite, feeling his messy bangs cling to his forehead.

“interesting. i thought you were ex-SOLDIER. so perhaps,” the voice stilled, a noise akin to a snort following. “there still is a possibility of getting sick.”

cloud clicked his tongue, furrowing his brows. “once a SOLDIER, always a SOLDIER. now would you stop already? i-i shouldn’t even be answering my own delusions in the first place, so quit stoking them.” he mumbled, opening his eyes to glare down at the ground. “i sound desperate enough as is, i don’t need to be having conversations with myself..”

but what a ghostly scene.

“oh, cloud.. even after pleading for me to manifest once more, you still wish to neglect my existence and insist on your being alone.” the voice despaired, a soft sigh expelling from their lips, which this time.. sounded a little too real.

too real to have come from the mess that was his mind.

if only to quell his curiosity and just get his hope shattered already, strife lifted his head slowly, turning after a deep breath toward the direction of the source.

and there he stood, in all his horrific beauty.

clad in leather that shone from the rain, liquid moonlight dampened- darkened a little from the rainfall with an abundance of belts that glimmered against onyx.

you wear the same jewels, that i gave you..

only he could appear this mystifying in the pouring rain.

even on the last day that he’d seen him, oozing smoke after unleashing his omnislash upon him before dissolving into a flurry of charcoal feathers.

as you bury me.

even then, he had been beautiful.

“you- you’re not..” cloud paused, swallowing the lump lodged in his throat as he staggered to his feet. “you’re not real.”

a silver brow raised before a soft hum fell from the mirage’s lips, one that again, sounded too real to be imagined. “haven’t we been through this once before, cloud?” he spoke a little more solidly this time, less echoed, but there a hint of exasperation. “is it so difficult to accept that i am here? you wished for my return, did you not?”

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace.

the blond had, that much was true — but he was so ready to accept the male across from him wasn’t coming back.. he hadn’t accounted for the surprise he would feel upon seeing him.

it was just.. completely surreal. “i did,” he began a little hastily, blinking a few times before looking downward. “but i.. you didn’t come back, even after what you said.. and after all that i’ve done — that we’ve been through.. i was starting to think that you wouldn’t be coming back this time..” he finished in a small voice, praying it wouldn’t waver.

he wasn’t sure why he was being so honest, so.. vulnerable. there was usually a bite to his words, certainly whenever the other party was sephiroth.. but there was no hostility, just.. raw emotion.

maybe the man across from him wasn’t real after all, if he was allowing himself to be this honest.

“just as it isn’t simple for you to kill me, it isn’t so easy for me to come back either, cloud.” sephiroth lilted, ripples forming beneath the strides he took to reach the other. “but your memories of me suffice enough to return me to you.” he smiled back, not as cruelly as he normally would. “it just takes time, and perhaps,” he paused, slipping two fingers beneath his chin to gently lift it. “i may have wanted to prolong our reunion to hear your true feelings.”

'cause when i’d fight, you used to tell me i was brave.

cloud shuddered at the phantom contact, it felt all too real.. maybe, just maybe.. it had been.

but could he trust it?

mako-azure glistened as he gazed up into those familiar slitted jades. once upon a time he felt instant fear looking into them, wonder at an even earlier point in his life, but now.. he felt both, all at the same time, with an overwhelming feeling of familiarity.

relief.

he wanted to trust it.

“so you’re not mad at me?” cloud dared to ask, so quietly, it may very well have been a whisper in the wind. he’d allowed zack to die, aerith, his own mother, and sephiroth. even if they had never explicitly expressed disappointment or resentment for his incompetence.. he still couldn’t help but ask, if only to ease his intrusive train of thoughts.

something sephiroth knew all too well.

a chuckle sounded from above the blond, an indicator that his assumption might have been incorrect. well, he hoped so, at least. or that his inquiry had somehow been comical.

“should i be?” his adversary asked, sliding the hand on his chin to hold his cheek. “to further add to your guilt?”

it nearly had cloud flinching at the shift in touch, but he remained in his place, despite the blood that rushed to his ears. “no.” he mumbled back, averting his eyes. “just checking, that’s all.” half true.

sephiroth traced his thumb over his skin, smile stretching. “i see. well, i felt the need to ask, myself. given your history of self torture.” he answered bemusedly, reaching up to catch what might have been a fallen tear.

“i don’t-” the latter swallowed, searching for the words. “i don’t know what you’re talking about..” he grumbled finally, withdrawing himself from his enemy’s touch to turn away. “none of that.. is intentional.”

the silver haired swordsman lowered his hand, surveying his body behavior — the evident self denial.

while he could correct him, humoring his game had more appeal. “truly? perhaps i must be mistaken on my interpretation of you leaving to mourn for a year or two until my return.” sephiroth mused, approaching the other once more to place a hand on his bare shoulder. “why else would you be here, rather than amongst your found family?”

and if i’m dead to you, why are you at the wake?

cloud parted his lips to protest, only to end up flattening them instead. “because i can’t look at them. i don’t.. i don’t belong there.”

when the one winged angel received no reply, he took it as a sign to continue, fluttering his eyes shut. “you would prefer the company of the dead?”

“they don’t judge me, usually.” he returned in a murmur, hyper aware of the leather fingers on his skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away. it felt.. oddly comforting. grounding.

sephiroth looked up at the sky, weighing the words expressed to him. “is that why you wished me back?”

cursing my name, wishing i stayed,

was it? no, there was another reason. “i just..” cloud paused, feeling his heart in his throat. “wanted to feel whole again.. alive. and with you gone, i just don’t..”

“know what to do with yourself?” the self proclaimed heir of the planet tested, tilting his head towards him. “or was there another reason?”

there was. it just, wasn’t easy to convey, let alone put into words. so cloud shook his head. “it’s complicated.”

“i have all the time in the world, cloud.”

a sigh left said male’s lips. “i’m sure you do.” he rolled his eyes, folding his arms. where would he begin to explain himself? feelings weren’t his best conversation topic — he sucked at understanding them, let alone expressing them.

but one look at sephiroth’s patient visage told him he wasn’t going anywhere without an explanation.

which left him with little choice. “i guess i just, always expect you to be the one stagnant aspect of my life.. that you would be there, even when everything else changes, or when the planet decides it’s time to take someone else away.” he tried elaborating, shutting his eyes. “so when you didn’t come back, like you said you would have.. i thought that i.. had really done it this time.”

look at how my tears ricochet.

slowly he turned to look up at his nemesis, knitting his brows together glumly. “i thought that you were finally done with all of this- that the planet took you, too.. and that scared me.”

and i can go anywhere i want..

sephiroth was silent as he listened to his killer speak, noting the fear that flashed in his eyes, the instability.

he’d anticipated to hear something along the lines of what cloud had said, but nothing at all like this. nothing as raw as this.

“as much as i hate you, for everything that you’ve done to me.. i feel so incomplete..” he took in a sharp breath, lowering his head into his open palms. “when you’re not with me.”

anywhere i want.. just not home.

was he seriously crying now, in front of sephiroth? he could only imagine what was going through his head now. probably how pathetic he sounded.

“it’s stupid and weak, i know it is. you don’t need to remind me over it.” cloud continued when he received no answer, wanting to just brush over the topic already to avoid any further humiliation. “anyway, there’s your reason. satisfied?” he exhaled, wiping at his eyes.

it wasn’t often that he cried, least of all in front of sephiroth, but his tears seemed to have no end to them. if anything, the rain had been some kind of sick encouragement for more.

although there had been no judgment. silence, yes. but no judgment was expressed.

cloud seemed to be looking for it as he lifted his head up after a few beats of silence to find whatever face his nemesis had been making- to get an idea of what he might have been thinking, but as always.. his countenance said nothing. a plaster of indifference, perfected throughout the years.

the urge to interrogate him was strong, but he chose not to.

instead, he turned his body away, scoffing. “well geez, if i had known that would shut you up, maybe i should have said so back when- mmph!”

and you can aim for my heart, go for blood.

all at once, rose, vanilla and some other, less prominent fragrances overtook his senses, the realization slowly settling about the newfound contact pressing into him.

otherwise, the bare, soaked chest his face was smushed against, paired with the strong arms that encircled his body.

he might just be hallucinating, but sephiroth- sephiroth.. was hugging him.

and no, not an embrace paired with stabbing. just.. a normal, well needed hug.

his cheeks dusted with pink before he could think to fight the color off, not quite used to the proximity, let alone the addition of wetness due to the rain. but he couldn’t find it in him to shove the other away. not when deep down, it was.. something he had wanted all his life.

cloud found himself unable to stop his next act, which was wrapping his own arms around the taller man, even going as far as to shut his eyes and just.. slip.

but you would still miss me in your bones.

no judgment, after all. and the touch felt real.

sephiroth was real.

he wasn’t a fragment of his mind or a lingering memory. no mirage or shadow that followed him at every twist and turn. and definitely not the flurry of feathers that scattered across the parting clouds.

and i still talk to you..

maybe it wasn’t the man from the poster that was now the ashes of a village erased, replaced and deserted.. but neither was cloud.

the hero had died alongside the nobody, and in their places stood the remains of those men. two hollow souls, lost without their other halves, now reunited, and made whole.

for the first time in a long time, cloud felt he could breathe again as he let out an exhale, unknowingly clinging tighter to his the man he dubbed his nemesis. as though he might slip away from him again and leave him screaming at the sky as he once had on the outskirts of midgar for another that was taken from him.

when i’m screaming at the sky.

but sephiroth had no intentions of leaving, he never had. for as long as his other half persisted, he would continue to return.

“your reasoning is neither stupid nor weak, cloud.” he finally filled their silence, gazing up at the cracks in the sky — the shade of blue bleeding through puffs of gray. reminiscent of the sapphire irises obscured by the mako tint on the eyes of the male in his arms. “our lives are forever intertwined. to be apart from one another is.. death in itself. be it in reality for me, or a feeling as it has been for you.”

tenderly, sephiroth then brought his hand to cloud’s freckled, flushed cheek, meeting his gaze with a small smile. “why else would i have continued to defy my demise?”

and when you can't sleep at night..

the blond pursed his lips, growing slightly embarrassed the more those jade orbs bore into his. was he really being asked this right now? “world domination, i dunno.” he tried, rolling his eyes. “planet being your birthright and all — whatever shit you normally spew during your monologues.”

that made sephiroth laugh, a smirk coming to his lips. “perhaps,” he answered at length, moving a dampened lock behind the other’s ear. “but i always had you in mind, cloud.”

said male rose a brow before letting out a humorless laugh. “yeah, okay. i was a ‘puppet’ in those plans. you would choose your goals in a heartbeat over me, don’t even.” meteor was proof enough of that.

you hear my stolen lullabies.

or was it?

“would i?” sephiroth questioned, still adjusting his bangs. “if it was between the planet and you.. hard decision, but i know my answer. sadly, it does not align with your own.” he chuckled, leaning in closer. “i’ve said once before that i would be loathe to live in such a world without you in it.. and that statement still holds, cloud.”

a fuzzy memory filled cloud’s mind before he felt his breath hitch at the one spilling over his lips- a warmth amidst the chilling rain. “not a dream, real.” he chanted in his head, willing himself to remain calm through the blend of rose and vanilla that hit his senses. “so then,” he began, feeling the hand pause on his cheek, “you’ll stay.. for good this time? no more taking over the planet or trying to destroy it..?” asking the question aloud felt awkward, as though he had been that eager teenage boy once more, with silly dreams and high hopes of meeting his hero.

and maybe, to some extent, he was. despite everything.

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace..

“if it means this,” the former first class SOLDIER stopped, resting his forehead against the other’s, “then i suppose there is no planet to be had that i don’t already have.”

cloud blinked up at him, furrowing his brows together in confusion. “no planet to be had..? what do you mean by.. oh.”

oh.

sephiroth tilted his head, innocently. “without my assistance, you seemed to have pieced the answer quite well.” he commented, eyes half lidded. “but.. perhaps you will tell me, for certainty.”

and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves.

for certainty. yeah, right.

cloud tugged at a handful of platinum, an unspoken warning, only to receive a rather pleasant suggestive noise in return. don’t think about it. “asshole.. if you know already, then i don’t have to tell you.”

“you don’t, no. but i wish to hear it from you, anyway.” the silver haired swordsman insisted, smirking like a cat. his default. “go on.”

the ex-SOLDIER let out a frustrated huff, burying his face in his foe’s shoulder. “i’ll die of embarrassment, do you really want that? for me to die?”

a shrug was the response he received, along with a quiet laugh. “of course not, but as if i would allow you to do so. now come on, cloud.” sephiroth pressed, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. “won’t you do me the pleasure of hearing your response?”

the blond was almost tempted to bite his shoulder right then and there if it weren’t for the massive silver pauldron blocking his way. even for something like this, his foe was always one step ahead.

he wasn’t going to give this up, was he?

a sigh left his lips at the realization. for as stubborn as he was, his old idol was just as bad, if not, worse. and cloud was willing to bet that they wouldn’t be leaving shinra’s rundown building anytime soon if he withheld his response.

of course he gets stuck with the most meddlesome guy ever by the planet’s sick idea of fun, but it didn’t matter.

you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same.

at sephiroth’s, dare he say, eager expression, cloud flattened his lips, annoyed at how much he seemed to be enjoying himself ( at his own expense ). meddlesome, indeed.

though the spiky haired male wouldn’t go down so easily. “your metaphor, and don’t even bother correcting me on poetics, was referring to me, i guess. now can we move on from this topic?” he grumbled back, trailing his gaze away. “..please?”

silence enveloped them once more, save for another soft hum that drew from his enemy’s rosewood appendages- a thoughtful one. as though he had been weighing his plea- or, at least, that was it seemed like on the surface.

in reality, the ex-general had just wanted to leave him in suspense for a moment longer. “so soon? i rather enjoyed your reactions.” he finally relented, releasing a soft exhale. “but i suppose, since you asked so nicely. i do expect something in return, however.”

cursing my name, wishing i stayed,

relief flooded cloud, though it had been short lived. because who was he kidding, it was sephiroth. there was almost always a catch when it came down to him. “something.. in return? like what?” dare he assume a kiss?

yeah, sure. in his head, maybe.

“something heartfelt, perhaps.” he mused, curling his lips just slightly. “or will that cost me?”

cloud nearly spluttered. something.. heartfelt? was sephiroth aware of who he was speaking to? he was the least heartfelt person on the planet, he was no poet!

but at the mention of a price, he found himself unable to suppress his snort. “oh ha, ha, very funny. i’ll charge you double for mentioning that.” he rolled his eyes, but failed to hide the smile that reached his face. “you’re lucky i just have the delivery service now.” a mercenary drove a higher price, after all.

yet sephiroth could only chuckle. “what an intriguing pricing system you have. does the same apply for your courier services, then?”

“depends.” cloud began, eyeing the billowing masses that scattered to at last reveal the sun. “distance, weight and size has to be taken into consideration for a fair price to be made.” he continued absentmindedly, trailing his eyes back to his enemy’s cat-like ones.

he’d seen them so many times before, be it on paper, gleaming on his blade or directly in front of him. he thought little of them before, but right now, in this instance.. they felt like everything to him.

you turned into your worst fears.

it was strange how time away from continuous battling with his enemy had turned him into.. whatever he was now. feeling something he knew he shouldn’t, but could not help.

for whatever reason, fate wanted to entangle their lives in the cruelest way imaginable, dooming them with the weight of the world to save, and an intrusive alien entity that wished to see it destroyed. each of them played their parts, whether they’d desired those roles or not.

now, however..

the curtains had come down on the stage, encores ringing on deaf ears as they were faced with a new route to their intertwined lives. the ones they should have had.

“and for something heartfelt?” sephiroth inquired softly, hovering over his lips. “how would you calculate that, exactly?”

cloud felt the hairs stand on his neck as though they hadn’t just been soaked from the downpour, swallowing thickly. “that’ll.. be an additional fee..” he wasn’t even sure himself what that entailed, but the words left his lips before he could think.

his client, needless to say, seemed to face no qualms with his answer. in fact, it encouraged him more. “will this do?”

and you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain,

the question of whatever ‘this’ had identified as fell silent on the blond’s tongue at the soft pressure that brushed against his baby pink lips. he’d carelessly thrown around the idea of sephiroth wanting a kiss, thinking the odds were too low of it happening.. and yet, here they were.

once again, cloud was reminded of how real sephiroth felt as he slowly reciprocated the act, wrapping a gloved hand around one of his suspenders to pull him down closer. if only to feel more of that electricity that transferred through to him.

it was most certainly the last thing he’d expected to be doing today, atop the war zone they had made out of the company that once doomed them. the agenda he had in mind was an abandoned spot to think and mourn, which happened, yea.. even if it was cut short.

but it was for the better, perhaps. it was.

bitter endings to drown away in the rain while new beginnings blossom as a phoenix would from its ashes to the light of the sun.

crossing out the good years.

an exchange of delightful sounds left the two before they broke from one another, having remembered the existence of air. a tedious necessity, but it was well needed ( much to somebody’s dismay — who was eager to prolong the kiss ).

when cloud recovered his breath, enough to speak at least, he dropped his head against sephiroth’s chest, closing his eyes. “it will,” he answered in reference to the inquiry the other had made, smiling tiredly. “for now, at least.”

the latter shifted his hand to the small of his back, letting out a contemplative noise. “i see more convincing is needed.” he hypothesized, leaning in again for what could be a second round. “shall i kiss you again?”

and you're cursing my name, wishing i stayed,

securing his arms around sephiroth’s neck, cloud brought him down closer, leaning up to his ear this time before whispering, “only one way to find out, right?”

look at how my tears ricochet.

notes. oh goodness this might very well be 6k words and a hot mess but i needed this to gtfo of my drafts😭 originally it was purely planned as angst.. but i caved because these two deserve happiness🥺 anyway, i’m still working on the sfkr fic i planned, not sure when i’ll be dropping it.. but if anyone is interested in joining the taglist, let me know via ask / comments!

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[edupunkn00b]

On a Butterfly's Wing, Ch. 16: Somebody Find Me to Love

Prev - Somebody Find Me to Love - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3255 - Rated: T - CW: minor injuries, mentions of blood and stitches - After the shattered heart, Intruloceit Remus and Janus take care of Logan Croft.

💛💙💚 February 14, 2025

“Hey, Jannie? We need a hand in here…” Remus called, wincing when Lo flinched at the volume of his voice. “Sorry, Lo Lo,” he whispered, not at all sure he could hear him.

But his his tone had roused something in Jannie, too; Remus heard him on the stairs before he’d even finished his sentence. “And bring shoes!” he added, a little softer. “Please!”

“Shoes? Oh—“ Jannie stood in the kitchen doorway, eyes wide at the scene before him.

Sobbing quietly, Lo knelt on the floor, blood-smeared ceramic shards clutched to his chest. He rocked back and forth, head bowed and holding the broken dish like a child.

He gasped for breath, wheeze-whispering over and over again, “I broke it, I’m so sorry… I broke it…”

Jannie moved quickly, slipping his feet into mis-matched loafers and grabbing two more pairs off the shoe rack. He handed Remus his and laid a gentle hand on Lo’s shoulder.

“Logan, my dear…” Voice low, he did a better job of not startling him but Remus still wasn’t sure how much was getting through. “I’m going to put these on you,” he murmured, hand sliding slowly from Lo’s shoulder to his hip and then to his thigh.

Lo’s rocking slowed but would not stop completely. “Here, Lo,” Jannie said, narrating as he grasped Lo’s ankle. “Here’s the first shoe, love. We don’t want you to step on glass.”

He blinked, tears streaming down his face and dotting his glasses. He stared at the broken dish then squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.

Remus had never seen him like this. In all their years together, Lo had helped all of them through bad patches, Jannie, Pat, him—especially him… Holding them, tugging them back out of their spirals with whispered reassurances and gentle touches. Of course Lo had dark days, everyone did. But this…

This was something else. Lo looked back at them like he could see right through them, like they were mist or cloud, vaporware about to disappear if he got too close. He’d broken shit before—who didn’t? But he’d never freaked out over it. Just grabbed a dustpan and cleaned it up and—

“Muse, will you get us a cloth?” Janus said, ripping Remus from his helpless freeze of watching Lo’s tremors.

Nodding, Remus jumped up, watching his step as he made his way to the drawer by the sink. He grabbed a few clean towels. Some of the cuts on Logans hands and arms looked pretty bad.

Jannie managed to put Lo’s shoes on him and was working on getting him to loosen his grip on the broken pot. “Look what Re has brought us, Lo,” he purred, low and easy. Lo turned toward Remus, eyes still squeezed shut. “Let’s get these pieces into a cloth, shall we?”

Remus laid the largest dishtowel on the floor between them, the others he piled in his lap. “It’s okay, Lo Lo,” Remus said, touching Lo’s chest, then a piece not in direct contact with his body. “There we go,” he said when his grip loosened just a bit.

“Thank you, love,” Jannie murmured. He took the next piece as Remus wrapped one arm around Lo’s back. “That’s it,” he said, slowly taking the next shard.

~

Piece by piece, he and Jannie freed the rest of the broken pot from Lo’s death grip. It gave them their first good look, too, at the cuts on Lo’s hands. A few bits had sliced through his shirt, but the long sleeves had helped protect him from the worst of it as he’d squeezed the razor sharp ceramic shards like he could hug them back into one piece.

While Remus gathered the shards and wrapped them in the towel, Jannie drew Lo close, stroking his hair and talking him through a breathing exercise. Shaking in Jannie’s arms, he kept trying to cover his mouth with his hands, like he needed to hide the fact he was crying. Or like he could shove it all back inside if he just tried hard enough.

Working around them, Remus swept the floor, relieved when he didn’t find a single tiny shard. It was good clay, it broke cleanly. When he was done, he wet one of the towels and returned to their side. As soon as Lo would let them, they needed to clear away some of the blood on his hands and now his face and see what they were dealing with.

Tears still streamed from Lo’s eyes. “I’m so, so sorry, Remus,” he repeated in a broken whisper.

Remus glanced over at Jannie, but he looked just as confused. Of course they’d seen Lo sad before and scared, too, but this… This truly wasn’t like him. Remus carded his hand through Lo’s hair and nodded. “We’ll fix it together, Lo Lo,” he said. “In the meantime…” He touched a patch of unbroken skin surrounding one of Lo’s longer cuts. “Let’s fix you up, okay?”

Lo closed his hands into loose fists and looked back at the pieces Remus had set on the counter.

Cupping his cheek, Remus turned his face back toward him. “You matter more to me than a dish, Lo Lo. Let’s take care of you.”

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Jannie murmured, leaning close to kiss first Lo’s forehead, then his.

“Thanks, Jannie,” Remus nodded and slid closer to Lo, sitting at his back. He cradled Lo’s hands and arms in his own, a comfort and a guard so he’d keep them still until they were treated.

Jannie rose to his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he promised with a tiny smile and hurried off to the hall closet.

Lo stiffened as he moved away, breathing still strained. He wouldn’t really look at Re, instead sending furtive, guilty glances at the covered pieces on the counter.

Rubbing his cheek against the back of Lo’s head, Remus hummed softly, an old song he used to sing to him during his worst episodes, when words just wouldn’t get through. Lo hardly seemed to recognize it.

It didn’t take Jannie long to gather the first aid kit and they got to work. First they wiped away the excess blood, evaluating whether this was something they could fix at home or if Lo might need stitches. Practiced hands pulled out the iodine and gauze and, as Jannie examined, Remus dabbed iodine over the cuts and bandaged each one.

All but one gash on his left palm had already stopped bleeding. Lo’s hand cradled in his own, Jannie held a wad of gauze against it. With any luck, the pressure—and Lo keeping his hand still—would work.

“Do you—Do we have surgical adhesive?” Lo asked in a small voice.

Jannie shook his head. “Not unless you stole some Dermabond from the hospital after The Beast.”

“Worth it!” Remus sang, pushing cheer in his voice he didn’t feel. “Sold that piece for fifteen thousand.” He chuckled and wiggled his fingers. The scar was almost invisible by now.

“We could… we could get… vetbond,” he said, even quieter.

Remus hissed. “That shit burns like a motherfucker. I wouldn’t use that on a dog, let alone you, Lo Lo.”

Fresh gauze pressed over the wound, Jannie frowned, watching Lo’s face. “If you truly wish to avoid the emergency room, we can try butterfly bandages,” he finally said. “But if the bleeding doesn’t stop after another ten minutes, we’ll want to bring you in, love.” Leaning close, he pressed a soft kiss against his forehead. “And we’ll be you with the whole time.”

“I…” Lo looked down, fingers flexing against Jannie’s hand. “You shouldn’t… I don’t want you to spend your Valentine’s Day in the emergency room,” he said at last.

“We don’t want you to hurt,” Jannie answered with a crooked smile. “So we win.”

Eyes welling with tears, Lo stared at the smiley face bandage Remus had applied to the tiny cut on the back of his right hand. He nodded. “Okay.”

In the end, the pressure worked. Still, he and Jannie worked together to apply three butterfly bandages to Lo’s palm before wrapping it in several layers of stretchy gauze.

“Thank you,” he whispered when they’d finished, another sob threatening at the edge of his voice. “I’ve ruined everything,” he added, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh…” Jannie’s voice sounded like the ocean, soothing them both. “You’ve ruined nothing, love,” he whispered as he pulled him close. Together, they sandwiched Lo between them. “Your cuts aren’t nearly as deep as they looked. The dish can be repaired. We’re together and safe. When you’re ready, we’re going to get some food into you, but in the meantime we have all the time in the world together.”

Lo shivered in Remus’ arms. They were still huddled around each other on the kitchen floor. Remus met Jannie’s eyes and looked toward the stairs. He nodded. “Hey, Lo Lo,” Remus whispered. “How ‘bout we head upstairs?” Quiet tears still streaming from his eyes, Lo turned, listening. “We can make you more comfy.”

He looked around them then and slowly nodded.

~

Careful of the bandages, he and Re held Lo between them as he exhausted the last of his tears. After a long while, he eased into their shared embrace, head pillowed on Janus’ chest, Re’s arm clutched tight around his body.

Lo’s demeanor was perplexing. The word ‘uncharacteristic’ didn’t even begin to cover it. Jumpy and brittle, he held them gingerly as though he feared they, too, might shatter in his grip. At the same time he clung, tensing at each tiny movement as though they might disappear, smoke through his fingers.

Janus struggled to work out what the cause might be when Re’s stomach growled loudly. “Oh, Muse… we need to get some food into you.” Realization dawned and he gently lifted Lo’s chin. “And what about you, my dear? You were in court all day. When did you last eat?”

Eyes darting away, Lo shrugged. “I… I cannot clearly recall,” he mumbled, hiding his face against Janus’ chest.

“Oh, loves,” Janus shook his head. “Let’s take care of that.”

“I’ll bring up some food,” Re said, carefully extricating himself. He smiled down at Lo as he curled closer to his chest. “You’ll take care of him?” he said quietly, stroking Lo’s hair.

“I’ve got him,” Janus nodded.

Huffing—forcing—out a laugh, Re leaned in for a kiss. “That’s good, but I was talking to Lo Lo. Want to make sure you don’t sneak off for a run or something.”

“I shall be very careful with him,” Lo answered in a quiet voice. He didn’t look up.

Frowning at the back of his head, Re blinked a few time then leaned in and kissed his shoulder. “Jannie could be in no better hands,” he finally said, voice serious. When he straightened, he was grinning again. “Be back in 90 seconds!”

Janus made a show of tapping his watch as Re closed the door behind him.

Almost immediately, Lo looked up at him, eyes wet. “Are you quite certain he’s not angry?” he asked. A tremor shook him once, then twice before he stiffened, jaw clenched tightly. “That he’s not merely…Ah…” He shuddered again, eyes darting to the door.

“Re?” Janus asked as though there was anyone else Lo could be talking about. “Of—of course not, Lo,” Janus’ response was quick. His understanding was not. “Love?” he stroked Lo’s hair, waiting for the moment his jaw might relax, or his eyes might return to their more typical steadiness. They danced from spot to spot around the room, attention scattering at the tiny sounds of the HVAC, the icy rain against the window, the clatter of a dish from downstairs.

“Love, no,” Janus whispered, holding him close and stroking his jaw until he’d meet his eyes. “Re’s worried about you, love. He’s not angry.”

“It—“ Lo swallowed and licked his lips. Janus hoped Re remembered to bring some water for him. “It would not be unheard of to… to wait until we are alone to… to express his… to…”

“Lo, no…” Janus shook his head, pieces slowly clicking into place. Lo trembled again and the full weight of his words struck him. “Logan, are you afraid Re’s pretending not be angry because I’m here with you. That he’s…”

The thought was almost too terrible to put to words but Lo’s expression was unmistakable. Pinprick pupils, stuttered breaths, paled skin. He’d seen this look before.

In his clients’ eyes.

“Has Re ever harmed you?” he murmured, heart knowing the answer. “In anger?” Together the pair took more risks than always advisable and had occasionally nursed the consequences of their recklessness. But like Lo accidentally breaking the dish, they’d never hurt each other intentionally.

Eyes wet with fresh tears, Lo seemed to seek the answer in Janus’ eyes. Finally he shook his head. “No.”

“My dearest Lo,” he murmured, drawing him closer and pulling the blanket up over him when Lo relaxed in his arms. “Then he’s certainly not going to start now.”

~

When Re returned with three spoons and a single large bowl of rice and curry, they quietly fed each other. After making sure they each drank—especially Lo, Janus set the tray aside and drew them both into his arms again.

“Do you need anything?” Re asked both of them.

Lo shook his head, and Jannie smiled, kissing each of them. “I have everything I need right here.”

Tucked close to his chest, Lo shuddered, fresh tears leaking out from eyes screwed tightly shut. Watching his expression, Janus carefully brushed Lo’s hair away from his face. One stubborn lock kept falling forward into his eyes. He gently pushed it back each time.

Janus exchanged a quick glance with Re where he’d curled next to Lo, legs tucked up close and one long arm curled around his belly. Re pressed soft kisses against his back and his shoulder, humming quietly to comfort both of them.

He truly needed it because, frankly, Janus couldn't remember ever being so completely flummoxed.

Lo didn’t get panic attacks. Not like this. But after everything… It appeared he’d finally reached some sort of breaking point. And neither of them had even noticed.

Unless…

“Lo?” Janus began quietly. He smiled when Lo looked up at him, hugging Re’s arm close. “Are you having the nightmare again?” It had been over two months since the last, but not all fears released their iron grips on the subconscious with time alone. “About her?”

“Nightmare?” he asked, looking away and trembling in their arms.

Re held him a little tighter, cheek pressed to his shoulder as he met Janus’ eyes.

“Oh, my dear Lo,” Janus murmured, shaking his head as he lifted Lo’s chin. “You of all people know you needn’t—that you can’t—hide from your feelings like this.” He pressed a slow kiss against Lo’s lips and smiled, that ancient night fresh in his heart.

Both of them, actually.

Janus hummed softly at Lo’s silence. “Not talking about them will only make the feelings worse.” Clearly. He hadn’t been nearly this upset after the last nightmare he’d shared. But if they’d continued and Lo had only been bottling it all up… Janus shook his head. He knew that path. He’d lived that path.

“We’re here with you, love,” Janus murmured, smiling when Re nodded his agreement. “It’s only a nightmare.”

“Jannie’s right—“ Re traced the edges of Lo’s bandages. “These hurt, don’t they?”

Lo nodded, eyes growing wide.

Re curled over him, gently kissing next to the nearest bit of first aid tape. “Then you know this is real. Your nightmares are just dreams. They’re not real. We’re real,” he said, chin resting on Lo’s arm.

“You’re… real,” Lo whispered slowly, like he was trying out the shape of the words in his mouth.

“Mm-hm,” Janus nodded, lifting one of Lo’s hands to his lips. Careful not to touch the palm, he kissed the uninjured knuckles and smiled. “We’re real and we’re right here with you, love.”

Laying so close between them. Janus felt Lo’s heart pound in his chest, pulse thrumming through the veins in his wrist, his fingertips.

“You’re real,” Lo repeated, surer this time. Like he believed it. His hand flexed in Janus’ grip, fingers brushing against his skin.

“And we’re together. I’m so sorry these nightmares have such a hold on you, my dear.” Sighing, Janus pushed back his hair again, meeting bright blue eyes, once again glossy with tears. “I know I wouldn’t ever want to dream of what my life might be like without you in it, Lo.” He smiled up at Re. “Without either of you.”

Re reached for him. Together they made a messy triangle of hands and limbs and bodies. Janus hummed. From above they might look like a heart.

“Because I know where I’d be without you,” Janus whispered. “Drunk or dead in some ditch, never knowing what I missed.”

Lo’s hand tightened around his, pain shot through his expression.

“It doesn’t take imagination to know where I’d be without you two,” Re shrugged, rotating his hand like a too-tight hospital bracelet still cut into the skin. His dragon tattoo obscured the old marks beneath but, like of all their scars, you could still find them if you knew where to look.

After all these years, had they been blind to some of Lo’s?

Lo sniffled again and shook his head, his certainty thick and sour in the air. “You would still have each other,” he said. His voice was so small. “Without me, you two would still be happy and complete.”

Janus’ eyes burned. “Without you, Lo, none of our lives would be complete. Not mine, not Re’s, not Pat’s.”

“You don’t know that the way I do,” Lo whispered, face hidden against Janus’ chest. “I’ve seen it.”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Janus said, stroking Lo’s back as he met Re’s eyes. “Witness’ testimony is not supported by facts in evidence.”

Eyes still watery, Lo cracked a smile at that and Re lost a bit of the worried crimp between his brows.

“Overruled,” Lo murmured, emotions warring on his face.

“Nope, I’m the judge this time,” Re laughed weakly, even for him. He wormed his way between Lo and the bed and wrapped long, muscled legs and arms around him. “Objection sustained. Point goes to the nerd without the tie this time,” he said nuzzling against the back of Lo’s neck.

Eyes slipping shut, Lo melted against them.

“Your Honor?” Janus began and Lo’s eyes shot open, watchful. The tiniest of smiles tugged at his mouth. “What’s your verdict?” he asked, winking at Re.

“Hmm… This is a difficult case. I must deliberate.” Heaving a weighty sigh, he tickled Lo’s shoulder with his mustache, grinning at the soft chuckle he elicited. “The Judge—“

“The Court—“ Janus added, his own chest loosening with their game.

“The Court sentences the defendant”—he kissed Lo’s shoulder then—“to a night of cuddles and kisses and anything else he wants,” he said in a grave voice.

Lo huffed, another tiny laugh.

“Would it please the Court if opposing counsel assisted with carrying out your sentence?” Janus asked before kissing Lo’s nose.

Lo smiled back at him.

Turning away just enough to switch off the lamp beside them, Remus laughed. “It does.”

[roomsofangel]

BAD IDEA! . . . # CHAPTER ONE

synopsis you were always pressured by your family to start dating and have a life, as they said. with constantly getting compared to your older sister, and twin brother, san, you were constantly trying to find ways to gather approval from your parents. which is why now you were in a huge mess after giving a false story of a boyfriend that didn’t exist and your family now set and eager to meet him on this year’s vacation.

warnings none really, just suggestive jokes made by mingi and the mention of vomit.

wc 1.7k

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you knew it was a stupid idea. one of the worst ones in the history of your life — yet, you sat in your seat, shoulders slouched as you rested your weight on your elbows while you leaned forward, head falling onto your arms while you huffed an audible breath. you could have sworn you heard multiple pens drop and be picked up, you clicked yours a few times as well until the slam of something being set next to your head alerted you — body swinging upwards and you’re now face to face with him.

kang yeosang. your bad idea.

“you fell asleep, hurry up.” his voice ushered, harshly whispering while he rested his hands on his hips, brows scrunched together as he looked down at you

you scoffed, waving him off and leaning back, hearing the cracks of your spine before the tension released, “what’s it matter to you?”

yeosang shook his head with a teasing toothless grin, “jesus, someone woke up on the wrong side of the chair.” he chuckled

“don’t mess with me right now, okay?” you rubbed your temples in circles as you spoke, leaning down to the side to get your bag before standing, swinging the strap over your shoulder and fixing your posture, meeting his gaze yet again, “i’m not in the mood.”

yeosang hummed, “lost in thought?”

“drop it.” your eyes shot daggers into him, he held his chest as if they actually pierced a wound before throwing his hands up in defense

“hey, hey, was just asking,” he briefed, shrugging when he let his arms fall back to his side, expression unreadable before it melted into his familiar, stupidly jesting one, “don’t gotta bite.”

you huffed, glaring at him, “i wasn’t bi—“ stopping yourself mid-sentence, you knew it was impossible to try and even go back and forth as the two of you usually do, and if you wanted to ask him to go along with your stupid shenanigans later, you’d need to be civil. for now. “look, just leave it.”

“as you wish,” yeosang nodded, aimlessly looking around the room and tapping his foot while you brushed against his shoulder to leave the classroom, hearing his muttered yet loud enough for you to hear, “princess”

“yeosang!” you swiftly turned back in a haste, voice louder than intended which caught attention from other people who attended the lecture, you sunk into your own body and shifted your bag strap before softly apologizing

“sorry..” you bowed before turning to shoot a glare towards yeosang

who always accepted them with open arms, sending you a smile in return that you always declined

you weren’t sure how you were going to do this. it was a stupid idea. but kang yeosang was just as impulsive as you — he was all you had if you wanted to make this work.

“just tell them you can’t make it.”

was the first thing that came out of your friend mingi’s mouth who had his mouth stuffed with french fries, using his hand to cover himself enough to speak before getting a slow down and swallow first from hongjoong who slid him a napkin

you sighed, using your fork to pick at your untouched, and unwanted, caesar salad that you were unfortunately forced to bring in replacement due to your brother taking your packed one from the night before, “you obviously don’t know my family then.” you bitterly amused, piercing a piece of lettuce a bit more harshly

“what did that poor lettuce ever do to you?” yunho amused with his lips against the cup he later took a sip from, earning you to send a glare his way before you smiled

“honestly,” hongjoong broke the silence about your big plan, his hands on his head as he leaned back as if he was emptying his thoughts out his ears and you could watch the letters flow out, “the idea isn’t that bad.” he shrugged

your head turned to look st him before the others at the table with your hands up, motioning to hongjoong, “see!” you beamed, “thank you hong-“ before earning a strawberry flung to your forehead that made you huff and curse under your breath

“but!” hongjoong interrupted, setting down the fork he used to aim the strawberry, “it can go horribly wrong and none of us can help you.”

“fuck you.” you retorted

“no thank you.” he replied

wooyoung clapped his hands, leaning forward on his elbows shortly after while he smiled at you, sneaking one of mingi’s fries into his mouth, “anyways! why not just ask seonghwa? he seems a good fit.”

your face scrunched, “seonghwa? you mean the one who i threw up on in high school?“

“yeah!” wooyoung replied with a smile, eyes turning into crescent moons while he had to pause and swallow the snack he snuck away to eat, “see, the two of you have a backstory, your parents would eat it up!”

“just like how seonghwa’s shirt ate up your- ow!” mingi lead on before you elbowed his side to stop him from continuing, erupting a belly laugh from yunho who snacked on his chips

you eyed mingi before turning your attention back to wooyoung, “anyways,” you shook your head, brushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, “no, seonghwa is out of the question.”

“what about me?” yunho voiced with doe sparkling eyes, mouth stuffed with his potato chips that were leaving crumbs on his tee shirt

“yunho, i love you and all, but you would snitch the second we got there or give it away,” you frowned

“true..” he mumbled, a soft smile before turning his attention onto hongjoong who voiced another question

“then who else do you have as an option?”

you paused, eyes wandering while your lips pressed together, fingertips messing with the string of your sweater that swallowed your body, hands warmly held in a makeshift paw

“y/n… i know that look..” hongjoong’s tone was stern and you could hear he was ready to scold you, but your eyes and attention were focused on the one person who had just walked in with a stride, waving and saying hellos to people he passed, bowing and fixing his bag over his shoulder while he made his way to his usual table

hongjoong muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “don’t tell me…”

“oh my god! this is hilarious!” wooyoung cackled, clapping his hands, “you want to fake date yeosang?!” he hollered

snapping your head back to your loud friend, face flushed, your hand attempted to swat at him from across the table, “wooyoung! shut your big fat mouth! what if he-“

“i heard my name, all good i hope?” yeosang’s presence and voice made himself known as he stood next to you at the end of the table, your breath hitched in your throat “unless your tongue tasted it, y/n.” his eyes landed on you, the angle making you want to cower and hide, why did he have to effortlessly look so good? was he even human? it made you sick.

mingi dug his spoon into his next snack, amused while he started to put the silverware to his mouth, “oh, her tongue wants to taste something— no! my yogurt!!” when your elbow ‘accidentally’ brushed and hit his spoon out of his hand before he could taste his sweet treat

intrigued, yeosang laughed to himself, “oh? care to elaborate?” he nudged you with his hand to your shoulder, earning a scoff from yourself with reddened ears

“yeosang, just go away-“ you muttered

“no yeosang! sit.” hongjoong interrupted which made your eyes widen, yeosang didn’t need to be told twice either — taking the seat by your betrayer friend.

you mouthed, “i hate you.”

“thank me later.” hongjoong mouthed back with a mischievous smile

three hours of agony and stolen intense glares were how you would describe the rest of the time you spent with your so called friends and yeosang. hands flat on your desk, you hoped the medicine you took was enough for your pounding headache to cease after the loud screeching wooyoung and mingi had done earlier — attempting to recollect your thoughts before you heard your door open and felt your stomach drop with it.

“y/n, a few friends are coming over—oh, why haven’t you packed? we have to go in a few days.” your brother, san’s voice broke through the hiatus of silence that was being held in your room, your body turning with the spinning chair to look at him

“i know, i know” you waved him off, brushing the tips off your fingers and pressing them to your temples to self soothe, “i’ll get to it, okay?” before you paused, arching your brow towards him with a side glance

you snorted, “you have friends?”

san gasped, “yah! i do!” aiming the closest pillow he could reach towards your feet while you laughed

“jesus— okay grumpy, what time are they coming?” you calmed your fit of giggles, stretching out your body and hearing the cracks, “i have to study.”

which wasn’t a complete lie, but not the full truth unless you counted operation kang yeosang to be an exam.

before your brother could reply, from the other room down the hall into the living room, you heard the sound of the front door being both knocked on and kicked in desperation, doorbell ringing along with it and it made you jump up a bit due to the suddenness, “…now??” san dragged his words while you scoffed

“san!!” you groaned

san dodged the pillow you aimed at him, holding a finger heart to you in return while closing your bedroom door, “love you! no promises we won’t be too loud!”

you whined, turning back to face your desk while you heard the muffled yet still loud enough boys enter the home, you muttered under your breath, resting your head down on your arms as if it would make everything go by faster and quieter

eyes slowly opening and closing, you knew you were dozing off, getting ready to slide out of your seat to start looking for pajamas to change into but you couldn’t move after seeeing another figure in your room with you, specifically at your doorframe

how long were you out? did you actually fall asleep? you turned your body to face the figure and wanted to scream, but only your eyes had widened and the eyes that mirrored them

because why was kang yeosang, your bad idea, standing at your bedroom door?

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[stormoftara]

It's time for my anime of the season review! Woo!

Fluffy Paradise: An overworked office worker dies in the entrance of her apartment, which is fairly standard for an isekai. The God grants her a wish for her next life, and this poor woman reminisces about how her parents fluffy cat was the only thing that soothed her soul, wishes for all things fluffy. She is granted this wish when she is reborn in another world into a noble family and all the fuwa fuwa creatures adore her, even a very special tiger. Looks interesting! I like fluffy things 0w0

Sasaki and Peeps: Sasaki is also an overworked office worker. However he doesn't die? He does find himself in a pet store after fantasizing about getting a cat, I mean dog? He really wants that cat. However something calls out to him. He ends up in front of a sparrow, which he buys. This isn't an ordinary bird though, he's actually from another world and got trapped in this world in this bird's body. With Sasaki's help he can travel back to his own world! He's not trapped like most isekai characters, he can travel back and forth. But that's not all and everything gets very chaotic. A strange high school girl with yandere tendencies is his neighbor? He saves a woman and ends up in a strange organization? This show might be good but it feels like it's stretching itself a little thin. I hope that the future episodes slow down a bit! Also this show has a much older protagonist than usual, so I do appreciate that.

Dungeon Meshi: a story that is much like a video game or D&D. (I'm assuming the English name Delicious in Dungeon is playing off the D&D name) There is a mysterious dungeon that holds the One Piece. I mean all the riches. A team of adventurers delve into the dungeon only to be defeated by a red dragon. The reason they did so badly? They were hungry! After going back to rescue one of the character's sister before she can be digested by the dragon, the team decides to (with varying degrees of approval) eat the monsters in the dungeon. A dwarf like man sees them cooking and decides to help out. Mostly because he has way too much info and he really wants to eat a dragon. Ignoring the morals of eating something that's digesting a human, the team sets off. This show is great if you want to learn how to cook completely fictional things. I'm here to learn more about the world building! (I've actually read the manga since I wrote this and there is tons of world-building and all the questions I had were answered!)

Cherry Magic! 30 years of being a Virgin can make you a wizard?!: An actual BL??? If you liked My New Boss is Goofy from last season, you'll like this. Adachi is a virgin who gained a power when he turned 30, he can read people's minds when he touches them. He learns that a coworker likes him, but guess what, that coworker is male! Gasp! I've seen the live action of this and enjoyed it a lot! I do worry because the pacing is at breakneck speed for some reason?

Doctor Elise: The Royal Lady with the Lamp: If you liked Tearmoon Empire from last season and wanted more, this is the anime for you. Elise was killed for her many sins against the empire, along with her whole family. She was reincarnated in our world but decided to amend her ways and become a doctor. However, on her way to an important surgery in Germany, her plane crashes. She is reincarnated again back in her old world. How will she change her fate this time? This show looks great, I enjoy it!

7th Time Loop: The Villainess Enjoys a Life Married to her worst enemy: God these titles are so long. Anyway, very similar to the last anime, Rishe is the Duke's daughter. Her former engagement with the prince is broken off and she's disgraced. Banished from the kingdom, she is forced to travel the world. However, every time she dies she goes back to when her engagement was broken.  In the Sixth Loop she was killed by the prince of an enemy nation. In the Seventh Loop she meets him again, but this time he wants to marry her. What will Rishe do in her new life? Will she be able to survive this time? We'll see!

Mr. Villain's Day Off: The general of an alien army that has invaded Earth is very menacing. But even villains need a day off, and on his days off he loves to go to the zoo. The pandas are just too cute! A slice of life anime about the villains and the rangers who fight them!

Solo Leveling: Jinwoo is the weakest hunter. One day, portals opened around the world with dungeons inside. These dungeons had many dangerous monsters who could escape and wreak havoc. However, at the same time the portals opened, humans gained powers. Those humans are called hunters. Jinwoo goes with a bunch of others into a dungeon that was supposed to be easy. This dungeon has a secret though and its anything but easy. Honestly the first couple episodes should've been combined into one mega episode like how Sasaki and Peeps did. The main point doesn't come until the end of episode 2. I am excited to see more of this and along with Dungeon Meshi I see it being a big hitter of the season.

A Sign of Affection: Yuki is a deaf woman who is attending college. One day on the train, she is having issues communicating with someone who needs directions. A young man named Itsuomi helps her out and she finds herself falling for the world traveling young man. How will their separate worlds collide? I really like this one, it's beautiful and I like the representation!

[kumkaniudaku]

Prompt Request : “I’ve never wanted to lick the buffalo hot wings sauce out of someone’s mouth but here we are.” Reader x Damson Idris 😊

Dating for Damson was complicated. Star power had its drawbacks, and not dating like a normal 30 year old was at the top of the very short list.

He wasn’t afraid of the often talked about gold digger or meeting an overzealous fan. He was terrified of not living up to the expectation many women had concocted on internet forums and in his private messages. As charming as he usually was, the pressure to always entertain was stifling. He just wanted a good time. A chance match on an dating app had him hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.

She was a cute girl. The prompts on her profile painted her as an ambitious geek with a passion for baking and Call of Duty. He doubted the last one, but struck up a conversation solely based on a pair of Prada heels in one of her photos. The words flowed effortlessly for two weeks until she extended the invitation to a mini golf attraction. Standing in front of the building while a Spring chill in Atlanta tried to cool off the muggy evening, he was starting to believe that she’d pulled the greatest vanishing act he’d seen thus far.

“Damson?”

A pleasant Southern drawl caught his attention before bringing him face to face with the woman of the hour.

“Oh wow,” he uttered louder than intended. When her expression showed a bit of confusion, he straightened up and extended his hand. “I meant, yes. Damson. Alicia, right?”

“Yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting. Did you get my text?”

Confusion came before his embarrassment. Had he carried both of his phones, he likely would’ve received what ever explanation she’d sent. But the absence of his business phone killed any chance of that.

“Uh, no. I left my other phone at my place and-”

“Damn, I’m in the fake phone? We startin’ on the wrong foot already,” she laughed. When Damson let off an awkward chuckle in response, she gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m joking. If we’re gonna be out tonight, you gotta loosen up. I didn’t touch up these braids for nothin’.”

“Oh so, that’s why you were late? And here I was cancelling my hair appointment to be on time for you!”

Their shared laughter rang out in the crowded parking garage, drawing attention that only made them laugh harder.

Easy energy kept the conversation light as Damson and Alicia rolled through rounds of indoor mini golf. Her competitive streak led to back and forth tales of their days as athletes between lessons on British slang. For the first time in over a year, Damson felt comfortable enough to drop pieces of his public persona and slip into a more comfortable version of himself. Talking to her felt like second nature. Each corny joke and song lyric reference had him wondering what she’d be like on date two, three or more.

“So, how you likin’ the city?” Alicia asked after wiping hot wing sauce from her mouth for the 100th time.

“Eh, it’s alright. It’s not Peckham or LA, but it’ll do.”

Alicia studied Damson’s sideways grin before rolling her eyes. “You like seeing me fired up, huh?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because ain’t no way you’d blaspheme my hometown and not think that I won’t pipe up.”

“Ooh, pipe up. I’ll add that to my Urban Dictionary research list.” He watched her roll her eyes again with a laugh. “One thing I will say is that wings here are top 10 in the world.”

“If we don’t do nothing else, we gone fry and sauce a wing! Stick around long enough and I’ll take you for some at one our local gourmet establishments.”

“Local gourmet? Is this a steakhouse or…”

“I’m sure they can throw a steak on for you down at The Flame or Magic.”

“The Fla…” Damson’s voice trailing made Alicia giddy with anticipation while he slowly came to a slow realization. “You’re trying to take me to a strip club.”

“And a couple other places if tonight goes as planned.”

The pair shared bashful stares across the table before diverting to get a look at their surroundings. Damson felt the long forgotten flutter or butterflies in his gut and chuckled at himself. Feeling for a random dating app link wasn’t in the plan. But Alicia felt like a change of pace that he was willing to explore.

“So, we sh-”

“Is it cool if I-”

Laughter took over the conversation to cover their embarrassing blunder.

Damson nodded to give Alicia the go ahead. “Ladies first.”

Alicia released a shaky breath to steady the words on the tip of her tongue before speaking. The corners of her mouth turned up into a flirtatious smile.

“Look, I don’t believe in beating around the bush. I’ve been thinking about kissing you all night. And I feel like we’re on the same page about that the way you keep looking at my lips, but let me know if I’m wrong about that.”

“I have been looking at your lips,” Damson admitted. “But mainly because you are smashing those wings and you have sauce all over your mouth.”

Alicia’s face morphed into a horrified expression while she rushed to get a look at her lips in her phone’s camera. Before she could finish the motion, Damson carefully gripped her wrist.

“I didn’t say entirely. I’ve never wanted to lick the buffalo hot wings sauce from someone’s mouth before, but here we are.”

The world around them seemed to slow as they searched for reassurance in each other’s eyes. A tentative move forward from Alicia led Damson to mirror her actions until there lips met and electricity made them tingle from head to toe.

Damson was the first to break the kiss and smile.

“Okay so, there are two things I like about Atlanta.”

[myaimistrue]

my gift for the wonderful @lotsofquestionslimitedanswers as part of the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! i hope you love this sweet bit of fluff as much as i loved writing it <3

also available on ao3

Cas has fought celestial battles. He has seen the rise and fall of human civilizations, he has razed cities and healed kings, and he has been the only thing outside of God’s control. Yet somehow, someway, he is being bested by a pan of scrambled eggs.

He lets out a string of curses he would never have even dreamed of fifteen years prior, and carefully carries the smoking pan to the trash can. He dumps as much of the blackened lump as he can unceremoniously into the trash can and sticks the pan, still coated in bits of burned eggs, back on the stove.

Cas is trying to make breakfast to bring to Dean in bed. He’s doing okay, he thinks, except now there just won’t be any eggs. Or pancakes. (Cas actually thought the batter turned out pretty nicely, but when he went to pour the first bit into the pan, his hand slipped—he spent a good twenty minutes cleaning all of that up.) At least there’s still bacon. Shit, the bacon!

Cas rips the oven open, still cursing, and just barely remembers to put an oven mitt on before he pulls the pan out. Thank God, the bacon is on just the right side of burnt, sizzling and crispy but not blackened yet. He breathes a sigh of relief, and sets the pan down carefully beside the other on the stove. Well, Dean’s always enjoyed bacon the most—if breakfast is just that, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Cas figures he can at least make some toast to go with it. Unfortunately, he forgot to buy more bread at the store yesterday, so there are only three pieces left, two of which are end pieces. He toasts them all, gnawing on a thumbnail and trying to convince himself that Dean won’t hate all of this.

Cas has only been back, free from the Empty and fully human, for a month. It’s been a good month, mostly, full of reunions and laughter and slowly but surely figuring things out. He and Dean share a bed now, share a life in a way they never did before, and it’s good. Cas is learning to be human again, and every step of the way, Dean is with him, endlessly patient and gentle with all of it, seemingly happy just to be with him at all. And Cas gets to kiss Dean when he wants, gets to hold his hand and brush his fingertips along the crinkles at the corners of Dean’s eyes, and every day, he gets to tell Dean he loves him. 

The only problem, really, is that Dean hasn’t said it back yet.

Cas knows Dean loves him. It’s clear now—it was clear from the moment he stumbled out of the Empty and into Dean’s trembling arms—and Cas understands that Dean shows it in different ways than words. He shows it in the way he sat with Cas for an hour helping him learn to tie his shoes, the way he makes PB&Js without complaint whenever Cas requests them, the way he slides his hand into Cas’s while driving and runs his thumb back and forth along Cas’s palm. Regardless of whether he says it out loud, Dean loves Cas with such ferocity that Cas sometimes worries he can’t match it. 

So Cas is doing what he can: he’s making breakfast in bed.

He arranges the limited food on an old wooden tray, along with two mugs of steaming coffee and a jar of Dean’s favorite apricot jelly that he did remember at the store. Cas studies his handiwork critically, then adds a few napkins (amidst all the change, Dean remains a very messy eater). The end result looks nice, Cas thinks. Better than he worried it might, at least.

Slowly, carefully, Cas makes his way out of the kitchen, and to the bedroom he now shares with Dean. The door is cracked from when Cas left earlier, and he can see the corner of the bed, the way Dean’s pulled all the blankets over to his side. Cas smiles at how familiar that’s become lately—it seems that with the luxury of his own bed, Dean is loath to share the covers; Cas steals them back all night long, but it works out because Dean puts up with his kicking. 

He creeps in and sets the tray down on his bedside table. Then, unable to resist, he slips back under the covers and wraps his arms around Dean. Dean stirs somewhat awake, and wiggles back into Cas with a satisfied hum. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean says sleepily. “Where’ve you been? ’S early.”

“Uh, I was…” Cas glances back at breakfast, and he thinks it looks measly now, small and poorly put together. “I made breakfast. For you to eat in bed.”

“...You made me breakfast in bed?”

“Yeah,” Cas says quietly, tucking his face in Dean’s neck, enjoying the closeness but also trying to hide his embarrassment. “Is that okay?”

“What? ‘Course it is.” Dean sounds like he’s smiling, and Cas can see it in his mind’s eye, that dreamy thing that only comes out when Dean is extremely relaxed. “It’s sweet.”

“Sweet,” Cas says, testing the way the word feels in his mouth.

“Yeah.” Dean’s still half-asleep, unfiltered and unencumbered in a way he rarely is, even now. “You’re real sweet to me, Cas. Always are.”

“Even though the breakfast isn’t good?”

“What?”

Cas sighs. “I messed up the pancakes and the eggs, and there wasn’t enough bread. It doesn’t look good like it does when you make breakfast.”

“I don’t care about that,” Dean says, a little more awake, his voice sure and strong. “I’d eat concrete if you made it for me.”

At that, Cas feels the knots in his stomach begin to unwind, feels his heartbeat slow to match Dean’s. He kisses the back of Dean’s neck, lips lingering on sleep-warm skin. Dean shifts closer.

“We’d better get up,” Dean murmurs. “Don’t want the coffee to get cold.”

“Or the bacon.”

“You made bacon?” Dean sits straight up in bed, sniffing around in the air like a bloodhound and apparently completely awake. Cas rolls his eyes and flops over into the warm spot he left behind, pulling the covers up and over himself again. “I can’t believe I didn’t smell that. Damn, Cas. You outdid yourself.”

“I don’t know about that,” Cas says. He peeks around the blankets as Dean grabs the tray and settles it over his legs eagerly. “It’s not—”

“Oh hell yeah!” Dean looks down at him with a brilliant smile that seems to make everything else around them go dim. “You got the apricot jelly stuff?”

“Yeah.” One thing Cas had done right. “I picked some up at the store the other day. I know it’s your favorite.”

Inexplicably, Dean’s ears go red. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course.” Cas sits up and studies Dean’s face like he has for years. Dean’s expression is a little difficult to read, but he’s still smiling. Cas feels himself start to smile, too. “So this is okay? You like it?”

“Dude.” Dean looks at him incredulously, but it’s good-natured, fond. “You’re as bad as me. I’m telling you, this is great. I don’t think I’ve ever had breakfast in bed before. And it’s…” Dean goes red again, this time all the way to the apples of his cheeks, but he continues on valiantly. “Nobody’s ever done the shit you do for me. And I’m so fucking lucky, it’s ridiculous, and I…” The hush of their bedroom seems to grow, to expand, as Dean glances at the tray then back at Cas with some huge emotion behind his eyes. “I love you.”

Cas blinks. “You—”

“I love you.” Dean says again.

“You love me,” Cas repeats breathlessly. He knew it would come eventually, he did, but this—this is worth the wait.

“I love you.” Dean laughs like he can’t quite believe it, like he’s so happy it’s ridiculous, it’s impossible. “Holy shit, there it is. I said it. I love you. You made me breakfast in bed, and I fucking love you.”

Cas surges up, unable to hold himself back any longer. He takes Dean’s face in his hands and kisses him as deeply as he can, as deeply as he’s ever wanted to. Dean is surprised at first, but meets Cas in the middle like he always does, takes what Cas gives him and then takes some more. They only separate when the tray is in danger of tipping all of their breakfast over onto the floor.

“Let’s eat first?” Dean says sheepishly. “And drink the coffee?”

Cas’s face hurts from how hard he’s smiling. “Yeah. Okay.”

So they sit side-by-side in bed on top of the covers, sharing bacon and toast, sipping coffee between secret little smiles, and Cas relishes every bit of it, every human moment. He watches Dean chew, enraptured by the image he makes: the sunlight behind his head a halo, the holiness of his soft grey shirt and sleep-mussed hair, and all of it, eclipsed the golden shine of a soul Cas can no longer see but can feel—even in his humanity, he knows he can feel it. 

“I love you,” Cas says.

And when Dean says it back, his face is more beautiful than anything in heaven.

[doctenwho]

Hangovers, Love and Space Vodka (PE Pt. 2)

Hello! Requests are definitely open, even if I’m awfully slow! I feel bad at how slow these are coming out especially since there’s so many in waiting, but writing just hasn’t been on the table recently. Apologies for that!

But I’ve found the time and the motivation, so I decided to get this done! Thank you for your patience! This is such a cute idea, and it always makes me happy that people like the first parts enough to request a continuation. I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you readers like it too! 

So, please enjoy the continuation of Purest Expression (also, you should probably read that one if you haven’t already, this fic heavily references it!) Also, I just thought the name was funny and I was in desperate need for one, so feel free to suggest others if you’ve got one!

Warnings: Talk of alcohol, but no drinking!

Word Count: 4,050

Summary: Check out the prompt above! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the talented creator!)

You didn’t really remember a lot when you woke up. All you really knew was you'd drank far too much of that delicious cocktail, and that your brain was pounding in your head. This was quite possibly one of the worst hangovers you’d had, but honestly, you’d do it all over again to have another one of those space cocktails.

You rolled onto your back, lifting your hands to cover your eyes in an attempt to block out what little light managed to stream into the room. Your stomach churned at the movement, but it settled out easily enough after you didn’t move a muscle for a few minutes following your roll.  

You relaxed back into the bed when your stomach settled down, and finally uncovered your eyes, staring up at the ceiling with a bleary gaze.  

As you laid there, you tried to piece together the evening. The bits and pieces between arriving and having enough to drink that you could no longer walk a straight line.  

You knew you’d gone out on the town with the Doctor—he'd been excited to show you things. He'd raved enthusiastically about the planet, and you’d listened along as your own excitement grew too. Then, you remember finally stepping out of the TARDIS and being completely astounded by this new planet, with all its colours, music and general liveliness.  

The cute little bar wedged between two buildings; you remember that too. And of course, you remember the cocktail—you'd had two, or three, or... had it been four? You couldn’t really pinpoint it. The Doctor had said it was weaker than earth vodka, and maybe it was, but the after effects were definitely more intense to a human that human vodka was. That said you’d still be down for another drink or two before you left.  

It was well worth the pain of a hangover to taste that drink again. Just the thought of it made your tastebuds tingle.  

You let out a light laugh before rolling back over onto you side, but this time following it up with pulling yourself to a sitting position. The nausea was still there, but hardly noticeable; just a subtle warning to keep your movements slow and steady lest you start gagging.  

Your head was still pounding, but you knew that wasn’t going to go away without pain killers, so you stumbled to your feet to go find the Doctor. He’d have something that could help, and at this point, you didn’t care what planet it came from, so long as it killed the raging headache and... well, didn’t kill you.  

You found the Doctor in the kitchen of all places.  

He was perched at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in front of him, as well as a book. He startled when you stepped into the room, breathing a light, “oh, (Y/N),” as a greeting.

You continued into the room, wobbling on your feet for just a second, “good morning,” you greeted in return, forcing a smile onto your lips despite the headache, “you don’t happen to have any pain killers do you?”

The Doctor frowned, “are you unwell?”

“Just a bit of a hangover,” you promised with a wave of your hand, “a little worse than an earth alcohol hangover, but it’s manageable. I’ll be fine, my head just really hurts.”

“Right, of course,” the Doctor nodded, pushing himself up and moving towards the cupboards. He rifled around the cabinets, reading labels of things and putting them back before he finally found what he was looking for, “these aren’t of your earth, but they are basically the same thing as your planet’s Advils. I’m sorry I don’t have anything that’ll help from your earth, I should really invest in some if I’m going to keep soliciting companions from earth.”

“Soliciting?” You snorted a laugh, which made you wince lightly, “really?”

“Well, I do tempt you humans away with the offer of the entirety of the universe, now, don’t I?” You smiled at the Doctor’s cheeky grin as he joined you at your side, setting the pill bottle in front of you to do with as you pleased, whether that was to ignore it, or take a couple, before he carried on to the counter. “No different really, I offer the universe in exchange for companionship, and I’m proud to say very few have ever declined. Now, would you like a tea, or coffee?”

“Jokes on the ones who declined, they’re really missing out,” you huffed out as you picked up the pill bottle, surveying over the list of ingredients. None looked too out of the world, but honestly, you’d do anything at this point to ease the thrum of your headache, so you uncapped the bottle, “surprise me.”

The Doctor turned back to flash you a grin from where he’d busied himself at the counter, “will do, my Dear.”

You shook a few pills into your hand from the bottle, eyeing them as if they were about to change colours or something similarly alien-like, but when none of that happened, you frowned, “how many do I take?”

“Well...” the Doctor turned thoughtfully to lean against the counter, “I’d say to start off with one and see if it does anything for you. There will be small differences from planet to planet, and we wouldn’t want you to overdose. After a half an hour you can try taking another pill if one doesn’t help.”

“Sounds good,” you popped a single pill into your mouth before you could hesitate. As if the Doctor was magic, he slid a mug of you go-to morning beverage towards you, and you washed the pill down with a sip of the perfectly prepared drink.  

You savored the taste of your drink, sighing into the warmth. When you’d had a couple sips, you put the cap back on the pill bottle and slid the bottle to the center of the table. You watched the Doctor move around the small kitchen as he made himself another coffee before joining you at the table.  

The two of you settled into a silence, thankfully. You hunched over the table, your elbows on the surface and your cheeks cupped in your palms, as the Doctor continued reading, but he looked like he was lost in his thoughts instead of actually reading.  

“How long have you been up?” you asked slowly, squeezing your eyes shut before blinking them open again to see the Doctor’s gaze on you. “You’re kinda spacing out.”

“I’ve just... some things on my mind,” the Doctor admits with a tiny curl upwards of his lips. It didn’t really answer the question, but at the same time it did. You didn’t think the Doctor had even gone to sleep. “Has the headache eased at all?”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape noticing suddenly that the headache was in fact almost gone. You hadn’t even realized, “yeah,” you informed with a laugh, “almost gone. I didn’t even notice—space things are so much better than earth things; the drugs and alcohol.”

“That would be a very worrying observation if I didn’t know exactly what you were talking about,” the Doctor snorted a laugh. You laughed along too, even if the statement was completely true—it had only been about ten minutes and the space Advil was already working wonders, where as the earth stuff could take anywhere from fifteen to thirty minutes to actually kick in.  

“So,” you drawled after another string of comfortable silence between the two of you, “what’s been on you mind then?”

The Doctor eyed you up and down briefly before sighing, running his fingers through his hair and making his already untamed locks stand up at odder angles, “I was just thinking about yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” you parroted under your breath. You’d been thinking about yesterday too. How could you not be? There were still gaps in time where you don’t really remember what happened. “What happened yesterday?”

“You don’t remember?” The Doctor blinked.

“No, I do,” you leaned back in your chair with a sigh, “well, most of it, I think. But some of it... I don’t know? It’s kind of a blur. I guess the cocktails started hitting me towards the end of the evening, I barely remember coming back.”

“You were a bit out of it,” the Doctor admits sheepishly, “glad I cut you off at three drinks then.”

“I could’ve handled more,” you scoffed, smiling widely in a teasing way.  

The Doctor rolled his eyes, leaning forwards, closer to you as his voice dropped, “I do believe three is probably your limit, Love.”

You let out a bout of bright laughter and the Doctor smiled softly. You loved how easy it was to banter with the man—how the two of you were so comfortable with the other that you could tease back and forth like this.  

As if to prove his point, your head gave a warning thrum of pain that drew a shallow breath from you, “yeah,” you shook the pain off, “you’re probably right about three being my space-cocktail limit.”

The Doctor shook his head fondly at you as he settled back in his chair, “so, anything you’d like to know about yesterday? I did promise I’d tell you anything you’d like to know?”

You thought back to what you remembered about yesterday: the walk from the TARDIS to the bar, the ideal seating at the bar, those amazing rainbow cocktails that tasted like dreams. Drinking and chatting and laughing with the Doctor—splitting a plate of chips that were unbelievably delicious... and then... well, the space English the TARDIS didn’t bother translating for you.  

“What was the bartender saying to you?”

The Doctor drew in a breath as his cheeks dusted the faintest pink, “nothing important, I assure.”

“C’mon,” you pouted, cradling your half drank, significantly cooled drink between your hands as you leaned towards the Doctor this time, “you said you promised to tell me about yesterday, right?”

The man chewed at his lip, subdued, but clearly trying to figure out the best course of action, “alright, well, we... I suppose we were acting a tad bit... involved? And... some assumptions were made about us by the barkeep.”

“Involved how?” you raised a questioning eyebrow. “And... what kind of assumptions?”

“Involved involved,” the Doctor cleared his throat, eyeing your level of understanding before rubbing his forehead and adding, “uhm, romantically involved. Those were, well, the main assumptions made as well.”

You gaped for a second before a thought came back to you suddenly, “he kept calling us lovers.”

“Yes,” the Doctor managed a light, fond smile, “I did try to explain it to him: us, our companionship—but, well, he... he didn’t believe me.”

“He didn’t believe you?” You repeated back, surprised.  

“No,” the Doctor laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, “he made some pretty solid points in favor of us being romantically involved too, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, “and what points might those be?”

“Well, we were sitting fairly close--”

“As friends do,” the excuse came easily. The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but continued on like you hadn’t spoken.

“--I was hovering close to you, I suppose... A bit at least--”

“You were worried about me,” you interjected with a fond eyeroll at how wrong the bartender had been. Lovers? Come on, no way. You guys were... you were friends. Obviously. Though the thought of the Doctor hovering over you, making sure you were okay warmed your heart.  

“--we leaned into each other’s sides, uhm, multiple times throughout the evening--”

You struggled for an excuse for that one, you did tend to lean into his space, not that the Doctor ever seemed to mind. And he liked to press into your personal space as well—neither of you really cared about proximity, so you managed a one shouldered shrug, “it was just loud in the bar, hard to hear each other.”

“--and, well, he pointed out I was staring at you occasionally; odd for him to have noticed, when I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

You couldn’t come up with an excuse for that one, eyebrows furrowing in confusion that made your breath catch in the weirdest way. He’d been staring at you? Why did that make you feel so happy?

“And then the fact that you returned the stare when I wasn’t looking. Honestly, that barkeep spent more time watching us than he did working last night, I’m sure.” The Doctor let out a playful scoff, genuinely amused that the bartender had put more time into them than his job.  

You however, were suddenly caught up in the information.  

He’d been staring at you when you weren’t looking—fondly, you were sure, if it had caught the bartender’s attention and led him to believe the two of you were in a relationship. Then there was the fact that you were staring at him in return? You’d been caught by someone staring at the Doctor? You knew you did it sometimes, how could you not? He was a good-looking, kind, compassionate man who liked your company. Just being with him made your heart speed up.

“That doesn’t mean we’re a couple,” you forced yourself to say, even if... well, you were questioning it just slightly. You knew, of course, that the two of you weren’t a couple but... “That bartender was just bored and looking too far into us, I’m sure he was doing it to everyone...”

“Of course not, surely we’d know if we were, right?” the Doctor agreed with a light grin. The grin only lingered for a second before it faltered and he chewed at his bottom lip. You were about to question it, but he spoke again before you could, “but, well, I suppose there is the song he had to go off of as well.”

“The song?” You questioned before it all flooded back—well, most of it, at least, “we were on a stage. We... we sang together. Was that a karaoke bar or something?”

“We were,” the Doctor ducked his head in a nod, “we... did. And it, well, it was kind of like your earth karaoke bar. Do you remember anything about it?”

You tried to remember, you know the Doctor explained it last night after he’d gotten the information from the barkeeper, but you still don’t really know. And you’re sure there were bits and pieces that he didn’t tell you last night as well. So, you shook your head.

“Right,” the man nodded, settling his elbows on the tabletop as he held his chin up, “well, the concept of the song ritual we were roped into performing is that you sing whatever song best corresponds to what you think about your peer. I’m not exactly sure how it works to be honest, the expression through song is just strong.”

“So, whatever I felt about you would be... conveyed through a song?”

“Yes.” The Doctor gives a light nod.

“And whatever you felt about me would... would also be?”

“Indeed,” his head tilts as he surveys you, trying to piece together where you were going with this string of questions.  

“But... we sang a duet, didn’t we?” You furrowed your eyebrows, running a finger along the rim of your mug. You faintly remembered chiming in with the Doctor’s song, instantly knowing the new lines to his song despite not knowing his lines, or the actual song. “Does that happen? What... what does it mean?”

“Well,” the Doctor cleared his throat, looking nervous. “It does happen, it’s just, well, it’s rare? I suppose. The barkeeper, just before we left, told me that the last time he saw a duet happen during the expression through song ceremony was when he was a child.”

“Wow, okay,” you bit the inside of your cheek. You had a feeling you knew what it meant, and the thought made your cheeks heat up, but you asked anyways, “what does a duet mean?”

“Well, generally speaking...” the Doctor shot you a small, crooked smile, “it means that we feel exactly the same way about each other. Exactly the same to the point that our expression would be through the same song, at the same time.”

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but repeat, “that’s... wow. So it really is unusual then? Why did it happen to us? Was it a fluke?”

“No, don’t think so,” the Doctor shakes his head, a blush rising to his cheeks as his fingers tap against the table, “something like that would be hard to fake, so I doubt it was a fluke. We chose the song—deep in our subconscious when thinking of the other... I mean... I didn’t know the lyrics beforehand, did you?”

“No,” you breathed out, fingers fiddling with your empty mug, “I don’t even think I remember the lyrics now. They were just... in my head when they needed to be. I didn’t even know your lines of the song. It’s weird that we were the people that got the duet—random visitors.”

“It was the same for me,” the Doctor sends you a small smile, “I think few people view their... companion the same way their companion views them. It seems highly unlikely that any two people can feel the exact same way...”

You’re not sure why, but there’s something different about the way the Doctor says companion this time around. Maybe he holds a different fondness than you’re used to, or perhaps some other reason, but there’s an unfamiliar warmth in the word.  

“But we did,” you whisper, looking up momentarily and catching the Doctor’s eyes before dropping your gaze back to your cup.

“But we did,” the Doctor repeats, just slightly louder than you. Like he too can’t wrap his brain around it. There’s a pause before the Doctor’s clearing his throat, forcing a crooked smile onto his lips. “Well, I promised you we head to the shops for some alcohol and other treats, didn’t I?”

The Doctor stands, moving swiftly towards the door without looking back.

“I meant it, you know?” You speak before you even realize you’re speaking. You don’t see the Doctor stop, since you’re facing the other direction, but you hear his steps come to a halt, feet planting in spot.  

He doesn’t say anything for a second, which prompts you on, “I do need you.”

He still doesn’t say anything, or move, so you stand and gather both your mug and his own, walking in the opposite direction from him towards the sink. You set the mugs in but don’t touch the faucet, instead mumbling a soft, “I want you.”

You’re not even sure if he’d still there anymore, or if he’d taken you moving as his cue to escape. You don’t turn to look, afraid to not find him there, so instead you whisper what little of your lyrics from yesterday that you remember, “come on back to me.”

Another moment of silence drags in before you hear the Doctor moving. His steps are quick, and you think he’s leaving out the door when suddenly hands are on your waist and he’s swiftly turning you around and gently pushing you against the edge of the counter beside the sink.  

You manage to muffle your surprise as his lips press against yours, soft but urgently all the same.  

You melt into his lips, eyes slipping shut as his hands leave your waist, one wrapping around your middle, as the other rises to cup at your jaw. It spurs you on too, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him just slightest bit close, to which he blindly follows your lead.  

You don’t pull away until the need to breath outweighs how good it feels to be kissing him.

You both gasp for breath, but neither of you pull away, lips still touching the faintest bit, “I didn’t think you even remembered the lyrics... how... intimate the duet was...” It’s the first thing the Doctor’s said since trying to flee the room.

You slowly open your eyes, catching his eyes waiting to make contact and a smile pulls at your lips. You pull away a bit, pushing your forehead against his, “I didn’t really remember the lyrics until just now, but I never forgot the feeling of singing them to you, and hearing you singing them back to me.”

The arm around your waist tightens around you, “I didn’t know you felt the same way,” the Doctor whispers. “I didn’t want to... make you uncomfortable, or chase you away. And then you woke up this morning, and didn’t remember anything with the hangover, so I... was going to let it go.”

You’re sure you make a noise of protest, maybe even disappointment, but you only assume because the Doctor lets out a chuckle before stealing another kiss that you’re more than happy to give.  

When he goes to pull back, you snake your hand up to hold him in place, mumbling softly against his lips the last of your lyrics, a message he’d sure to understand, “I love you sundown.”

The Doctor freezes against you pulling back just enough to look into your eyes before a smile creeps onto his face. You smile at his smile, watching him fondly as his head tilts in that adorable way, affection bright in his eyes, “and I, you, my Love.”

You melt at the words leaning into him and pressing your head against his chest, fitted perfectly under his chin like a puzzle piece. Your arms wrap around him, and his move to hold you against himself just as you had done to him seconds earlier.  

You stay like that for a while—you're not sure how long. You feel protected tucked against the Doctor, and it’s a feeling you’re never going to forget.  

“How’s your head?” he asks softly above you, the voice after so long of nothing by his steady heart beats startles you. The Doctor presses an apologetic kiss to the top of your head.

“Better,” you decide, nuzzling closer to him, “why?”

“Well, I did promise we’d check out the shops, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“I almost forgot about that,” you laugh, finally pulling away. The Doctor unwraps his hand begrudgingly, frowning as he does so. You let out a laugh, slipping your hand into his. “I wanna see the shops before we leave this evening. We’ve gotta get some of that vodka.”

“I see more hangovers in your near future,” the Doctor snorts as he leads you along by the hand.  

“Oh, and, we should definitely pick up a gift for the bartender from last night,” you add, ignoring the Doctor’s teasing jab at your weak human alcohol tolerance.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, without his instance that we sing, and his instance that we were a couple, none of this,” you gesture down to your interlocked hands as the two of you step out of the TARDIS and onto the busy, colourful streets, “would’ve happened.”

The Doctor’s quiet for a second as the two of you fall into step. “There’s nothing in the universe that can ever thank him enough for what he’s done,” the man softly admits, giving your hand an adoring squeeze that drives his words home.  

Your cheeks heat up as you tuck yourself in his side. He moves easily to accommodate you, releasing your hand to wrap his arm over your shoulders instead. You move your hand to squeeze around his waist, grinning as you respond cheekily, “I don’t know, Doctor, the space vodka is pretty good...”  

The man sputters at your response, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow, “I was being all cute and you’re comparing the gift of our newfound relationship to vodka?” the man questions, genuinely dumbfounded.  

You give a one shouldered shrug at his side, giggling at his reaction. It wasn’t long until the man was letting out a fond sigh, thumb stroking against your collarbone, “what am I going to do with you?”  

The tease in his words has you smiling. There really is nothing in the universe that seems equivalent to the gift the bartender bestowed to you, but... yeah, a bottle of space vodka was a nice start.  

<><><><>

Hello again! Hopefully you liked this continuation. Not sure if it kept to the prompt exactly, I got a bit carried away writing it, but nonetheless, I hope it was good! Feel free to prompt again if it wasn’t what you were looking for, as always!

I’ll try to keep up with the prompts but idk how well I’ll be able to manage between life and the other works in other fandoms. Anyways, hope you have a great morning/day/night!

[lumosandnoxwriting]

No Returns or Exchanges - Fred Weasley

Title: No Returns or Exchanges Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Fred and Y/N get to start their happily ever after A/N: this is for @mrs-fredweasley​. I usually do my requests in the order I receive them, but she asked for some fluff with Fred and the reader getting married and having kids for her birthday, and since she’s my birthday twin I couldn’t resist! Feedback is always welcome and requests are open!

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

“There you are, Mrs. Weasley,” Fred greets as he sneaks up behind Y/N and wraps his arms around her waist.

“I’m not Mrs. Weasley quite yet, Freddie,” Y/N teases as she turns around in his embrace. Her arms wind around Fred’s neck and she pulls him in for a brief kiss. “You’re about twelve hours too early.”

Fred starts to slowly sway them back and forth, humming quietly to the music drifting through the air from the large tent behind them. Fred and Y/N aren’t getting married until tomorrow, but Ginny, Y/N’s maid of honor, insisted on mixing some muggle wedding traditions in alongside the regular wizard ones. Tonight, had been what Ginny referred to as the rehearsal dinner, where the wedding party and their close family went through the ceremony that will take place tomorrow, before having a mini celebration together.

“Do I really have to go home without you?” Fred pouts. Another muggle tradition Ginny insisted on was that Y/N and Fred would not be allowed to see each other until Y/N was heading down the aisle towards him.

Y/N giggles and kisses Fred’s pout away. “I think it’ll be romantic. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, isn’t that what they say?” Y/N rolls her eyes playfully when Fred frowns at her. “Oh, come on, Freddie. It’s only one night apart.”

“When’s the last time we spent more than 1 hour apart outside of work?” Fred ask, looking down at Y/N expectantly. When she doesn’t answer he smiles. “Exactly. One night is going to feel like an eternity.”

“Okay so maybe it’ll be a bit hard,” Y/N concedes. “But after tomorrow we’ll get to spend every day for the rest of eternity together, that’s gotta be worth it, isn’t it? And have you forgotten that we’ll be spending the next two weeks completely alone together in a cabin in the woods.”

“How can I forget about that?” Fred muses. “Just me, you, and as little clothing as possible for two weeks straight. That’s the only kind of honeymoon I want.” Most of their friends and family were surprised that Fred and Y/N didn’t want to go on some adventurous honeymoon but wanted to just relax together in some secluded forest. But for them that seemed like the only option. It’s only been 13 months since the war ended, and after Fred’s near-death experience he and Y/N decided to take life slow for a bit.

“So that’s why you wanted to go somewhere secluded,” Y/N says, realization washing over her.

Fred laughs. “I may have had ulterior motives when I convinced you to book the cabin in the woods over the beach house.”

Y/N shakes her head fondly. “You’re a bit of a menace, you know that?”

“Yeah but I’m your menace. And you’re way past the return or exchange date so you’re stuck with me,” he jokes, leaning down to press a kiss to Y/N’s forehead.

“Oi, lover boy!” George calls from behind them. Y/N and Fred break apart so they can look at him. “Ginny says it’s time to go, and she’s already wacked me over the head once so get your arse over here before she does it again.”

“See you tomorrow?” Fred asks as he leans down to kiss Y/N briefly.

“Meet you at the altar,” she confirms with a smile.

-

“You sure you wanna marry my brother?” Ginny teases as they get ready to walk down the aisle. “Because I could cause a distraction if you wanna slip out the front door and run away.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and grabs the bouquet Ginny hands her.  “Ha, ha. Very funny, Gin.”

Ginny beams at her before taking her place in line. Y/N takes a deep breath as the music starts, silently regretting that she chose to not have her dad walk her down the aisle. A few months ago, she had bashed the archaic notion of someone giving her away to Fred as if she were a piece of property, but as nerves start to bubble in her stomach she wishes she had someone by her side to calm her down. Everyone in front of her starts to slowly head towards the alter, and she fixes her dress one last time before she follows behind Ginny.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” Fred whispers as she takes his hands at the altar. There are tears in his eyes, and a few leak down his cheeks. “You’re absolutely stunning.”

Y/N blushes, trying to blink away her own tears as to not ruin her makeup. “You clean up quite nice as well, Freddie.”

Fred smiles down at her, maintaining eye contact as the official from the ministry starts the ceremony. Fred squeezes Y/N’s hands tightly as he talks, only half paying attention to what he’s saying. His thoughts are completely consumed with Y/N and how breathtakingly beautiful she is. The dress she picked out compliments all of her best features, and the veil cascading down her shoulders makes her look like a goddess. Fred has imagined this day over a dozen times since he proposed last year, but everything he thought of pales in comparison to how beautiful Y/N looks right now.

“Can I have the rings?” the officiant asks, pulling Fred’s thoughts fully to the ceremony. George digs around in his pocket for a moment before handing the delicate silver rings to the man. He hands the smaller one to Fred. “Now it’s my understanding that the bride and groom have prepared their own vows?” When Fred and Y/N nod, he smiles and motions for Fred to start.

“Y/N, I’ve been enamored with you since I was 11 years old, when you made your cauldron blow up and covered Snape head to toe in the worst smelling goo I’ve ever encountered – and that’s saying something,” Fred pauses as everyone chuckles, and he starts to slide the ring down Y/N’s finger. “When you agreed to accompany me to Hogsmeade during third year I felt like the luckiest guy in the world and I still do. I was so nervous, I had no idea how I managed to convince the pretties girl in school to go out with me, and all these years later I have no idea how I convinced you to marry me. But like I said last night, there’s no returns or exchanges you’re stuck with me for good now.”

Fred slides the ring down Y/N’s finger until it meets her engagement ring. “You’ve stuck by me through every risk I’ve taken and every dumb idea that’s popped into my mind. You were one of the first people to support my dream of opening the joke shop with George, and you were there to support me every step of the way. Every late-night George and I had planning things out or developing products you were right there with me, usually you were asleep, but it was still nice to have you there. You were always the first person to volunteer to test out a product and you were always there for me to vent to when something didn’t work out. You pushed me to leave school early with George, and once you moved in with us you were always there to snuggle with me after a long day.”

Fred takes a deep breath and brings one of his hands up to wipe away the tears Y/N has started to shed. “You gave up so much of your life to be there for me after I was crushed by that wall. No matter how hard I tried to get you to go back to work or just leave the house in general. You’ve always shown me unconditional love and support, and that’s what I’m promising to show you for the rest of our lives. No matter how crazy or hard or scary life gets, I’ll be there by your side, loving you and helping you through it.”

By the time the officiant is pronouncing them husband and wife, both Fred and Y/N are openly crying, but as they share their first kiss as husband and wife, neither of them really cares.

-

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Fred greets with a smile as Y/N pushes the door to his office open. He pushes away from his desk slightly and pats his lap.

“Me too, I hate throwing up,” Y/N responds, taking a seat on Fred’s lap. She settles in and presses a kiss to his cheek. “How’s work going today, husband?” she asks with a giggle. They’ve been married for just over two months, and it still gives Y/N butterflies every time she refers to Fred as her husband.

Fred rolls his eyes and grabs Y/N’s face so he can press a kiss to her lips. “It’s been quite busy today wife. The restock of the new whizbang line already sold out.” Fred settles his hands on Y/N’s hips and kisses her again. “What about you? What have you been getting up to on your day off?”

“I had breakfast with Ginny and Hermione. Did some shopping,” she says casually pointing towards the bags she dropped near the door. “Nothing too crazy or exciting.”

Fred’s eyes light up at the sight of the bags. “Shopping, hm? Did you happen to pick up a present for your lovely, adorable, adoring husband while you were out?” he asks hopefully.

“Maybe,” Y/N muses with a wink. “You’ll have to wait until after work to find out.” Y/N giggles as Fred frowns and she kisses him one last time before standing up.

“You’re such a tease,” he scolds as Y/N gathers the bags in her hand.

“I know.” She waves at Fred and blows him a kiss before heading back into the joke shop and upstairs to their flat. They’re still living with George for the time being as they save up for a house, and as Y/N places her shopping bags on the bed she starts to wonder if they’ll have to start looking for one sooner rather than later.

Y/N sticks her hand in one of the bags and fumbles around a bit, humming as her hands closes around a rectangular cardboard box. Her hand shakes slightly as she pulls the pregnancy test out and starts to familiarize herself with the instructions. While her and Fred have already come to the conclusion that they both want a house full of children someday, she never imagined that they may be starting their family so soon after their wedding.

“Now or never,” Y/N mutters to herself as she heads towards the bathroom. Y/N thought they had been careful while on their honeymoon, she knows there were a few times they had forgotten to use the contraceptive charm in the heat of the moment, but she figured it would be okay. However, when her period never came she began to suspect that they weren’t in fact okay, and the random nausea spells she’s been having for the past week seemed to only solidify that fact.

After she’s closed and locked the door behind her, Y/N does what she needs to do and sets the pregnancy test on the counter face down. “Who knew three minutes could feel like a lifetime?” she asks to no one as she watches the time go by on her watch. When the three minutes is finally up Y/N’s hand starts to shake again as she reaches for the stick. She shuts her eyes tightly as she flips it over, and after a few deep breaths she finally takes a peek.

Pregnant.

Y/N starts to cry as a whirlwind of emotions flow through her. On one hand she’s so overwhelmingly happy, being a mother is something she’s always wanted and to be doing it with Fred makes her heart burst with joy. But she can’t help but also feel an intense bout of worry flowing through her. She and Fred are only 21, and they haven’t even been married six months yet. Y/N knows that Fred wants to be a dad, but she can’t help but worry that he’ll think this is a bad thing and that it’s far too soon for them to become parents.

“Hey, love. You left one of your bags downstairs,” Fred calls out as he walks through the door.

Y/N furiously wipes away her tears and sticks the pregnancy test in the back pocket of her jeans. She takes a deep breath and opens the bathroom door, jumping slightly when she sees Fred. “You scared me, Freddie. I didn’t hear you come down the hall.”

Fred frowns at her. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” When Y/N nods he gives her a look. “Were you throwing up again? You’re all pale, love. Are you sure we shouldn’t go see a muggle doctor or a healer or something?”

“I’m fine, love,” Y/N reassures, pushing past Fred. She starts to head down the hall when she feels Fred’s hand brush her ass. “What are you- oh,” she gasps, turning around to face Fred. He’s staring down at the pregnancy test in his hands. “Fred,” Y/N starts, not really sure what to say.

“Is this what I think it is?” Fred murmurs, looking up at Y/N. He grips the test in his hand tightly, tears starting to form in his eyes. “You’re pregnant?”

Y/N nods slowly as she bites her lip. “Yeah, I am.” Fred falls to his knees and brings Y/N close to him, shoving her shirt up a little. He starts to pepper kisses all over her warm skin, laughing as Y/N starts to giggle and squirm. “Fred! Fred stop that tickles!”

Fred presses one final kiss to her stomach before he stands up and kisses Y/N passionately. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant. I can’t believe we’re gonna have a baby.” Fred lets go of Y/N and starts to head towards the door. “I have to go tell George.”

“Freddie, wait,” Y/N calls with a laugh, chasing after him. She closes her hand around his wrist and pulls him back towards her. “You’re not mad? Or upset?”

Fred gives Y/N a look like she’s crazy. “Upset? Mad? Why would I be any of those things? You know I want to be a dad, love. We’ve talked about this before.”

“I dunno,” Y/N shrugs. “We’re young and we haven’t been married for that long. I just thought you wouldn’t think it’s the right time.”

Fred sighs and comes back towards Y/N, wrapping her up in a hug. “Love I don’t care about any of that. So, what we’ve only been married for two months? We’ve been as good as married since we were 18 when you first moved in here.” Fred presses a kiss to her forehead and smiles down at her. “Besides if we’re gonna have enough kids to fill a quidditch team we need to have them young, I can’t be an old man teaching my kids how to fly,” he jokes with a laugh.

“A whole quidditch team?” Y/N asks. When Fred gives her a wink Y/N rolls her eyes. “You’re lucky I love you Fred Weasley.”

-

“Fred what are you doing?” Y/N murmurs around a yawn. She started to wake up after a warm heavy weight rested on her stomach, and when she finally opened her eyes she saw Fred half hanging off the bed as he laid on his front. He’d pushed her shirt up and his head is hovering over the swell of her stomach while his hand strokes it lightly.

“Talking to the baby,” he responds, as if the answer is obvious.

Y/N shifts so she’s laying on her elbows so that she can look down at him properly. “At 2 am?”

Fred nods, pressing a light kiss to her skin. “I couldn’t sleep. And I read in that muggle book Hermione gave us last week that the baby can hear things now, so I figured I’d try it out.”

Y/N chuckles brings a hand up to rub her stomach. “Well I think the baby likes the sound of your voice, they’ve been moving like crazy.” Early last week Y/N had started to feel the baby move around inside of her. The first time it happened it scared the shit out of her, but now she’s started to miss it when the baby is still.

“Really?” Fred asks, his eyes lighting up. The movements Y/N has been feeling are still far too light for Fred to feel from the outside, but every night he spends hours rubbing her bump to try and feel something.

“Yeah, really. My ribs have become a punching bag.” Y/N smiles as the baby lands a few kicks to her stomach. “Here, gimme your hand.

Fred gives Y/N the hand that isn’t already on her stomach, watching as she places it on the side of her bump. She presses his hand into her skin, and he holds his breath, hoping to feel something. “Holy shit,” he gasps as the skin beneath his hand moves ever so slightly. Fred watches his hand in awe, smiling as it moves lightly with each movement. “That’s so cool.”

Y/N laughs and lets go of Fred’s hand so she can run her hand through his hair. “Innit? Though it does feel kinda weird that it’s like, coming from inside of me. But it’s nice. Like I’m never alone.”

“Hey little one,” Fred coos against Y/N’s skin, pressing down against her stomach as he feels the baby kick him in response. “I’m your Daddy, and I can’t wait to meet you.” Fred presses a kiss to Y/N’s skin and tears form in his eyes when he feels a small movement against his mouth. “I know your Mummy is doing such an amazing job of growing you in there but hurry up and get out of there so I can hold you and play with you and kiss you and cuddle you.” Fred tears his eyes away from Y/N’s bump so he can wink at his wife. “Plus, the sooner you get out of there the sooner Daddy can give you a sibling.”

Y/N scoffs and flicks Fred on the forehead. “Can we finish making this one before you start planning the next?”

“What? There’s no harm in planning ahead,” he teases, crawling up the bed to kiss Y/N sweetly.

-

“Hi there little bug,” Fred coos, gently rocking his newborn daughter. She’s only a few hours old, and her big eyes are bright as she blinks up at Fred. “I’m your Daddy and I love you so much Miss Ellie belly.”  Her actual name is Electra, but Fred has settled on calling her Ellie. Y/N had found her name in a baby book Hermione dropped off, and they both instantly fell in love with it. It means bright one, and after the dark times Fred and Y/N had survived in order to bring her into the world it seemed like the perfect fit.

Fred presses a kiss to her forehead, his heart melting as she makes a little noise. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispers. “Just don’t tell Mummy I said that.”

“Maybe you should check to make sure Mummy is asleep before you start spilling your secrets,” Y/N responds with a laugh.

Fred turns around, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, love. I figured you’d be a goner after the past few days you’ve had.”

Y/N moves over to make room for Fred and pats the space next to her. “I was only in labor for what 36 hours? That’s nothing,” she says with a laugh.

Fred comes over and sits next to Y/N, cradling Ellie tightly against his chest. “Don’t downplay yourself, love. You’re an absolute superhero.” He begrudgingly passes the baby back to Y/N and wraps an arm around her, his other hand coming up to grab Ellie’s foot through the blanket she’s wrapped up in. “We wouldn’t have our perfect little angel without you.”

Y/N blushes, looking over at Fred. “You helped a little bit. And I did nearly break your hand while I was pushing.”

“Aw, Y/N. You flatter me,” Fred teases. He presses a kiss to her temple and takes a moment to just watch as Y/N cuddles Ellie close. “I didn’t know I could love something this much,” Fred says quietly, crying slightly for the second time that day. The first had been when the doctor placed Ellie in his arms for the first time. “But every time I look at her my heart feels like it’s going to burst from how much love is in it.”

“I know, right? Every time I look at her I feel like crying. She’s just so tiny and perfect and ours.” Y/N leans down and presses a kiss to Ellie’s forehead. “I almost can’t believe that we made her. I don’t know how you and I could make something so beautiful.”

Fred gently grabs Y/N’s chin and turns her head so he can kiss her passionately. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world, so it is no surprise that our daughter is the most beautiful little girl in the world.” Fred kisses Y/N again briefly, before letting go of her chin so he can stroke Ellie’s cheek. “How are you feeling, love? Can I get you anything?”

“I’m alright, Freddie, thank you,” Y/N says softly, looking back down at their daughter. “I actually feel really good. To be honest your Mum scared me a bit, I thought it would be way worse.”

Fred chuckles, melting as Ellie’s eyes flutter closed. “I think Healers have revolutionized childbirth in the twenty years it’s been since she had a baby.” He bites his lip, nudging Y/N so she’ll look at him. “So now that this one’s out, when can we start trying for number 2?”

-

“Y/N love, I’m home!” Fred calls, stepping out of their fireplace and into the living room. He dusts the ashes from his suit, frowning when his wife doesn’t answer him immediately. But it turns into a smile when he spots his daughter peering at him over top of her play pen.

“Ellie,” he coos, heading over to her. “Look at you, standing up on your own!” he praises, lifting her out and up into the air. He tosses her up gently, laughing as she giggles madly at him. “Where’s your Mummy?” he asks, settling the infant on his hip. He presses a kiss to her forehead, his stomach turning to mush when she cuddles into his chest. “Let’s go find her then, hm?”

Fred starts to explore the house, grinning as Ellie babbles baby nonsense into his skin. He can’t believe how fast the past 8 months have gone, and while he loves watching Ellie grow and learn new things, he misses the baby stage already. “What do you think Mummy’s doing?” he asks, nodding along to her babbles as if she’s actually answering him. “I think she might be hiding to scare Daddy. What do you think?”

After checking their downstairs Fred starts to head up the stairs, his fingers lightly digging into Ellie’s belly to tickle her. She shrieks with laughter, and it sounds like music in Fred’s ears. “Daddy misses you while he’s at work, Miss Ellie belly. I think I should take you with me tomorrow. What do you think? Do you wanna spend the day with Daddy and Uncle George at the joke shop?”

Fred peppers kisses to Ellie’s head as he walks down the hallway. The door to his and Y/N’s room is shut and as he goes to grab the doorknob it swings open and Y/N practically runs into him.

“Oh, Fred,” she gasps, holding something to her chest. “I didn’t hear you come in, love.” Fred eyes her wearily as Y/N leans forward to tickle Ellie’s stomach with her free hand and press kisses to her chubby cheeks. “Is your Daddy home, Miss Ellie? Did Daddy finally come home to see you?” she asks, laughing as Ellie giggles at her.

“What’s in your hand?” Fred asks.

Y/N looks up at him, trying to seem as innocent as possible. “Nothing,” she responds, showing him the hand that was on Ellie’s stomach.

Fred rolls his eyes playfully. “The other one, gorgeous.”

“Oh, um,” Y/N blushes and looks away from Fred as she takes her hand from her chest and opens her palm. A positive pregnancy test is laying in her hand, staring up at Fred.

Fred gasps. “Another one?”

Y/N nods and snuggles into Fred’s chest as he pulls her into a hug with his free hand. “Dunno why you’re so surprised, you’ve been trying to get me pregnant since Ellie was born.”

Fred laughs and leans down to kiss Y/N deeply. “Guess it’s time to start thinking about the next one then,” he teases.

Y/N glares at Fred. “Are you sure it’s not too late to return or exchange you?”

“Sorry love, I burned the receipt long ago,” Fred responds with a laugh, kissing Y/N again.

[bakugohoex]

could you do "you think that waiter could make you cum the way i do" with bakugo katsuki?

“you think that waiter could make you cum the way i do”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw:  aged up, fluff, domesticity at the end, talks about pregnancy, nsfw (Minors DNI, nipple play, jaw grabbing, fingering, kissing, biting and marking, breeding kink, unprotected car sex, degradation, praise, daddy kink, exhibitionism, spit kink), use of the word mommy in a pregnancy way.

word count: 2,000+

a/n: ria writing for once i know it’s a shock, but here you go some nsfw bakugo

summary: in which after having a dinner date with bakugo, his irritation at how the waiter seems just a bit too close to you, he can’t help but take you right back to his car, ready to show you who’s really in charge

1k event masterlist

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Ten fucking minutes, ten fucking minutes and the waiter still stayed by your table, he couldn’t help but glare, couldn’t help but look the man up and down in disgust at his girl. But worst of all, you were entertaining it, with your hushed tones and the way your breasts almost spilt out of your teensy dress Bakugo had chucked at you to wear. It was for him though, not for some stupid waiter, it was supposed to be all his but now here he was watching as you stared at the man laughing at another one of his pathetic jokes.

“A fan, that’s so sweet, I’m sure Bakugo won’t mind us talking for a bit longer, right Katsuki.” He saw that smirk, saw the way you toyed with the bow that rested against your chest to make both of the men stared there. 

Bakugo leant back on his chair, taking a long swing of his drink. His shirt partially unbuttoned as the suit jacket fitted each inch of his muscle clad body, you expected a reaction of anger. But instead he nodded letting you have your fun, “I can’t stop you.” 

It was a grimace but the way you just coyly acted stupid as if you didn’t see the malice in his tone, he continued to lean back, legs spread as he stared at his drink. “You really are gorgeous in real life; the articles were true.”

Bakugo saw you giggle, heard you smack the waiter's arm as you laughed at the comment, that was the final straw for him, the final act that had made him finally decide to end this game, “don’t want an autograph from the number one hero.”

He looked up at the man, arms up against the table as the man finally stared at the man, “I...I...of course I’d loved one.” The waiter felt shell shocked, he knew you and Bakugo were out on a date but the way Bakugo spoke with fury under his calm tone made him shiver. 

The waiter passed the paper and pen, Bakugo taking it as he seemed to be writing some long message, finally signing his name as he handed it back. “Come closer” Bakugo crossed his arms as you stared confused at how the waiter came down to Bakugo, Bakugo whispering in his ear.

The waiter’s face became paler at the sight of what he was hearing, “she’s even more attractive with my cum stuffed inside of her, something you’ll never get to experience, now fuck off be...before i kill you.”

You saw the discarded paper which seemed to only have Bakugo’s name on it but the way the waiter stood frozen in front of your table. Unable to move after hearing Bakugo’s threat, Bakugo eyed you up and down, “come on.”

“Where are we going?”

He doesn’t answer, instead taking your stuff in his hand and putting his hand out, the waiter got out of his gaze watching how you gave him an apologetic look knowing Bakugo probably threatened him. “Get up.”

You take his hand, his grip tightening as he drags you out of the restaurant, cold wind attacking your skin as he pushes you towards his car. Instead of taking you into the front seat, you find yourself in the back, the car being in an empty parking spot as he stared at you with lust. 

“All fun and games isn’t it sweetheart, think you could really show off what’s mine to that pathetic waiter.” His hands began roaming your body as he had let your back lean against the back, his arms surrounding you as he kept you firmly in place. He was almost glad there was enough room in his car to fuck his pretty girl senseless. “Think that waiter could make you cum the  way I do.” It wasn’t a question but the way you tried to answer made Bakugo even more needy to show you who was in charge.

“I…” You tried to speak but his fingers moving to your hardened nipples made you mewl at his touch. 

His fiery eyes looked down at you, wanting and needing to have you all, “try again sweetheart,” his voice seemed calmer, but you knew what was to come. You knew that your next actions were detrimental in how the next half an hour would go. 

“I’m so...sorry daddy.”

“See that wasn’t hard, open up.” His hand moved to grip your jaw forcing it open as you heard him gather his spit up before shooting it right down your throat, his hand firm on your jaw, watching how his spit mixed with your own saliva. It was a beautiful sight as he stuck his finger right on top of your tongue, “you’re going to do as you're told, going to be a good little slut and swallow every piece of me.”

You knew what his words meant, knew what was going to occur, swallowing not only him but yourself in this process. “I...I’ll be good daddy.”

He nodded as his let go of your jaw watching you swallow him all before his mouth attached to your own. It was fast paced, spit and saliva mixing as you could feel him sloppily kiss down your mouth, your jaw and right down to your next where he started making marks. His hands moved to your dress, sliding the straps down as your breasts laid for his hand to grab and grope at. Flicking his fingers between your nipples he felt your body arch as he continued to bite at your neck. 

“So fucking gorgeous, baby girl.” He whispered as his mouth went to your nipples, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nerve as his hands moved to take your underwear to your ankles. You were exposed as his suit jacket had been chucked to the front, you were almost glad that the street was empty but the feeling of being caught sent a thrill through you. 

“Kat...daddy fuck please I...I want m...more.” Your mewls and whines as your nipples were soaked in his saliva made him groan feeling his hardened cock between your legs.

“Want daddy’s cock, want to be stuffed full of my baby’s.” His words went right through you as he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped his trousers off. His eyes watched your form underneath him, so delicate, filled with purity that he had spent countless nights ruining, tainting his precious girl.

You mumbled an answer but all he could hear was a want, a need for you to be fucked dumb by him, “I want your b…babies” You whispered as you felt his cock glide against your folds, the way his hands rested by your side and that malicious look of wanting to fuck his pretty girl being evident.

“I’ll make you a mommy don’t worry.” He whispered loudly as his cock gilded back and forth before you felt him run his hand down your body to your clit. Just as his cock went inside of your cunt his finger began to rub at the bundle of nerves, watching how your body craved more arching into his body.

His mouth went against your own once more, leaving sloppy drool filled kisses, he didn’t know what had gotten into him. To fuck you in such a public place, but he wasn’t regretting it at all, his slow thrusts became harder and deeper as his other hand kept him upright on top, his mouth moving to leave more marks as his fingers moved through your slick. “My good slut.” He groaned watching you moan out “daddy” continuously.

“You want me to be a daddy, gonna give me a baby, come on, you can do it.” His voice felt heavy as he worked his body around you, mouth latching onto your skin or nipples, fingers playing against your clit and rubbing at it to send you into overdrive. But the way his cock fit right into your cunt as if it was made for you, as if you both were two connecting pieces.

You had almost forgotten what had caused for this as you moaned out a “fuck.” But then you heard your cause, even if Bakugo wanted to put a baby in you, his harder thrusts and way he seemed to get deeper and deeper inside of your pretty little cunt. The cause of this had been jealousy and how you had acted in front of him.

“Don’t think I forgot what happened baby, I’m gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you permanently mine, no man is ever gonna look at you without seeing me, okay?” You nodded but his hand moved away from your slick filled clit and right up to your lips. “Try again.”

His fingers moved across your lips watching how slick coated it as you gave him the reply he wanted, “yes da..daddy, I wan…want to make you a daddy.”

He liked the way you spoke, liked how you agreed to be his little breeding partner. He always knew he wanted a family with you but the fast pace of this all, the way his thrusts seemed to get deeper in you with a climax being near he couldn’t help but love you. “Good girl.” He moved strands of hairs away from your face, kissing your forehead as he continued to slide back and forth inside of his pretty girl.

“Pretty baby.” He whispered as he felt you continue to mould into him, your fingers scratching into his back, your mouth against his neck making your own marks on his skin. He couldn’t help but feel love as he watched you move your hips with his thrusts.

You could feel the coil inside of your stomach needing a release as he moaned into your ear, “you want…fuck…want to cum.”

“Yes d…daddy.” You mewled back feeling his pace go quicker, each thrust sending you into overdrive.

“Cum for me.” He whispered as you felt the white gush right out of you, his cock being large enough to keep it right inside of you, Bakugo used it to gain more quicker thrusts. Using your cunt and the cum to his advantage as he felt his own coil snap and cum gush right out of him as well, he saw the way your cunt was stuffed.

The way cum was trying to leak out, he took his cock out watching the cum spill from your cunt as he looked up at your sweaty dishevelled face. He couldn’t help but imagine a future and family with you, bringing the cum into his hands you felt his fingers begin to stuff it right back into you. Looking down between your legs he looked up, as cum covered his fingers.

“Gotta make you have my baby.” He muttered as you watched him move between your legs, knee between and fingers ready to go right into your mouth, “such a slut.”

You didn’t care for his comments instead loving how his arms wrapped around you as you leant against the passenger side door. The way he rested his head against your stomach, hand in his hair as you leaked off him cum. He couldn’t help but love being in between your arms even if it was in his car naked.

“You really want me to get pregnant?” You finally questioned, he looked up into your eyes, a soft gaze before turning to face away.

“I want to have a family with you idiot, of course I want you pregnant.” He rolled his eyes as you scowled at him. “If you end up pregnant I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

“I want a family with you…” You paused watching him, he seemed eager for an answer but turned to face away to act like his normal annoyed self, “…now.”

He turned to face you, a smirk as he leant in to kiss you, he seemed happy trying to hide it with his normal demeanour, and it wasn’t like you were kids. You could have these conversations and the both of you knew that you were going to have your forever together.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just fill out the form in my navigation or send an ask and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alaina-rose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @cathy8taffy  @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @kuroos-world @levisfilm @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders @the-shota-king-masayuki @bakugousmrs @crystal-lilac @dai-tsukki-desu @fandomsinthegalaxies @crimsonbows-and-arrows  @admin-in-residence @otterlockholmes @gabrann @zlatanakermann @c0urtn3y @bakuhoesworld @halloweeniebicth @jaegerswifey @sageandberries-png @ukigxmo @shisoaya @suna-reversed @loveforbakugo @decayedz @mitarashi18age @blackdeawing14 @peachysimp @lifestylesleep @n0baraa 

[ohlovxrr]

first class || charles xavier x reader

i’ve been on an x-men binge and fell into a hole of james mcavoy and charles xavier again, so here we are. i haven’t written fics in a long time, so i tried to again. i’m uncreative so like the title is just the first movie because of the fact that it’s set during that time. kind of like self insert cause there’s a few bits and pieces where there’s canonical plot and interactions, so disclaimer for that. anyways, hope you guys enjoy! ps also don’t have enough energy to find a fitting gif so maybe i’ll find one later maybe i won’t. we’ll see

words: 5.8k

warnings: not proofread (i spent three days on this so i don’t have the energy anymore haha), writing lacks emotional depth, drug use and mentions, intent of murder, thoughts of (murder, rape, suicide, etc.), poorly written two paragraphs about kissing, angst, we ignore moira and charles’ romance cause... duh, it’s x reader and it’s too difficult for me to work around it rn a haha

masterlist

The rooms were always the same. They were dark, illuminated only by the dimmest of lights emanating from the occasional lava lamp or fairy lights. Fairy - ironic word for such situations, such rooms. Filled so heavily with smoke it made it hard to breathe, let alone see. And the floors; the floors always felt different. 

In hindsight, it was probably the one thing that had her realizing the rooms were never actually the same. Sure, they had the same smell, the same overcrowdedness and moving bodies, the same darkness, even the same taste, but the floors testified to the difference each room held. 

Sometimes, when the world would freeze and all the people around her became nothing but a mesh of warm bodies, she could hear the floor creak under her feet with every step she took. There she was - the house right down the street from her. 

Other times, the floors felt sticky under her shoes. She assumed it was tequila. There were always too many bottles around to count, surely there would be spills. Or, some poor guy could have pissed himself like that one time. When her shoes sounded like velcro as she walked across the floor, she was at the house all the way across town.

In any case, she felt the same ankle up. One of her favourite parts had to be the way the music always abused her ears - so high, it made her feel lightheaded. More so than she already had been both. Sex was not nearly regular enough for her to compare, but she knew what she would feel every time the music was loud enough to make her head buzz and throb with a vengeance was more erotic than anything anyone could ever do to her.

The place could change but the scene never really did. Down to the people - she knew this for sure. She knew every beating heart around her like they were her own. She never only felt it there, but in her head as well. Even as it buzzed, she felt it. Sometimes it tore at her skull as if trying to escape - ironic.

Now, why did the scene change one evening in 1962? She told herself it was fate, but it had merely been wishful thinking when she knew why. How did she know? She knew the man sitting next to her on the worn down couch, nearly entirely unconscious and reeking of weed and vodka, knew the girl across the house, the girl across the house knew the man next to her and that - so on and so forth - meant she knew all three of them, even though they didn’t know her. So, for two new men to walk into the house, their eyes focused - focused on her - changed the scene entirely.

Now, the music became nothing more than an assault on her ears; the lights became too bright at the same time as the dark became too dark; the air became heavier than usual; and she sobered up at the feeling of something - someone - in her head. Then, it all caved in. It was as overwhelming as it always was, but she was used to it enough to handle it for a little while, at least whilst remnants of her high remained. She couldn’t say the same for the shorter of the two men she saw keel over at the pressure.

He got over it pretty quick, from what she could tell. “Charles Xavier,” he introduced himself as, “This is my colleague, Erik Lensherr.”

A quick trip from the couch to the door had her standing on the lawn of the house of the night with the two men. Crickets could be heard fighting against the sound of the music blaring from the house as she swayed on her feet, making wet sounds in the grass from earlier rain. Charles stood not much taller than her, charm emanating from him and the way his piercing blue eyes seemed to smile despite his furrowed brows and mouth set in a straight line as he stared at her, waiting for a response with his hands tucked into his coat pockets. Erik stood taller, stoic and calculating.

“And?” She crossed her arms across her chest, both in discomfort and the fact that the chilly night air had begun to bite at her skin, her long sleeve doing nothing to help. “I should care why?”

If the incident earlier wasn’t enough, the way the both of them looked at her was enough for her to know why. “What’s your name?” Charles asked, having her notice then the English accent on his tongue. 

The second she gave it to him, he smiled - almost sympathetically - at her and hummed, “You have an incredibly busy mind, Y/N.”

“And you have an incredibly nosy one, Charles.” That had Erik letting out a chuckle, one that felt like approval to her ears.

Never in a million years would she dare say yes to anything of the sort the two men proposed to her that night. A team of mutants; not necessarily that she thought it was absurd or a horrible idea - no. It made sense, not factoring in their current climate, to have a team of mutants fighting against the evils of the world. The horrible idea was to have her join. No, she wanted to tell them, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking too,” Erik agreed with her, catching both herself and Charles off guard, “We’ll be going then.”

He offered her his hand. She didn’t know how long she stood there staring at his outstretched arm. Sometimes her high slowed time - it could have been five seconds or five minutes. When she finally looked away from his hand, up at him, she saw he stood unwavered and patient.

“You don’t have to, you know.” Her eyes shot to Charles as he broke the silence. He shook his head, brows still furrowed and mouth set in a straight line. “You’re under no obligation.”

For Charles to know, she understood. He had just been in her mind long enough to know that most of it wasn’t even hers. For Erik to know and offer her his hand made her wonder just how desperate he was to assemble the team - for whatever reason that she was about to find out in a moment.

“We leave now.” Was all he said after he tore his hand from hers.

An hour hasn’t even passed when she found herself on a plane with the two men, mind still buzzing but this time not with a high. This time, with an overwhelming anger and anticipation. The way Erik didn’t make eye contact with her and Charles sent worried glances her way throughout their trip to their “base” was enough to tell her that they knew she had already been briefed on what was happening - the reason behind their assembling of a team. Rather, she knew specifically of the personal motive behind it.

All it made her heart feel like it was beating a mile a minute. It pounded against her chest so hard she was sure at least one of them could hear it. So badly did she want to hide out in the plane’s bathroom and take something to stop the pain, but it was off the table. For now.

Soon enough the flight ended, and she came to find out their “base” was a covert CIA facility where they placed the other mutants they rounded up before her. She just as quickly met and said goodbye to Moira MacTaggert, a CIA officer working with Charles and Erik to stop Shaw. His name alone sent sparks of rage flowing through her veins.

She was left with the group when the three went off that night. There, she came face to face with Raven, Sean, Alex, Hank, Darwin, and Angel - or, Mystique, Banshee, and Havok. Darwin and Angel were “self explanatory”, considering they were already nicknames and described their powers fairly well. Hank was just… Hank.

Her turn came around quickly, once everyone settled down from Alex’s show of his “gift”, when all heads turned to her, sitting at the end of the couch. Raven smiled at her - she liked her, she was sweet - “What about you? What’s your power?”

“I’m,” She paused for a moment, the eyes on her making her anxious and curl into herself hoping, praying, another mutant wouldn’t touch her. “I can move things. With my mind.” She gave a tight smile to Raven and nodded her head, as if to reassure herself. “I can move things with my mind.”

Raven’s smile only widened, excited by either the prospect of her being able to move things with her mind or the opportunity to give her an alias. She assumed it was the latter. She excused herself to the washroom just as Raven asked the group what they thought. “We’ll have one for you once you get back! Promise!” Raven called after her.

Body filled with anticipation, she nearly ran to the washroom, willing the door closed behind her after she entered. It was small, but clean - CIA property after all. 

She tried. She really did. Albeit, making contact with a mutant was always the worst; Erik especially. The trauma, the pain, the thoughts. All them clawed at her brain, as though they were tearing through it layer by layer until nothing but them remained within her skull.

Nothing could stop her from taking out the small baggy in her back pocket and tearing it open. Nothing could stop her from taking it, only to feel a rush flow through her. It would take a bit, but soon enough she would stop feeling them gnawing on her very existence. Soon, numbness would wash over her and she could just be no one.

She guessed she was in the washroom for about half an hour. Staring at her reflection, at the floor, at the ceiling, at anything, but when she made her way back to the room, she found it in disarray. Music was blasting from the radio, chairs flipped over, Raven on top of the couch dancing as Hank hung from the ceiling light, the rest of the group messing around with their powers. She couldn’t tell if they were experiencing some high of their own or just happened to have gotten their hands on some alcohol.

“What are you doing? Who destroyed the statue?” Moira’s voice broke her out of the trance she was in watching the group. Slowly, she turned her head to see her, Charles, and Erik walking over as everyone else froze. Moira was angry, that much anyone could tell, but the two men were unreadable.

Hank was the first one to reply back, jumping down the ceiling, panicked, “It was Alex.”

“No. Havok.” Raven seemed to stay unfazed, still standing on the couch with a wide smile on her face. “We have to call him Havok. That's his name now…”

Raven’s words melted away from her. Her focus wasn’t elsewhere; it was simply nowhere at all. She stared at everyone in the room, yet no one at all. So caught up in nothing she didn’t notice Charles himself staring at her until Erik uttered something under his breath and walked away with Moira following, brows furrowed in what looked to be confusion. Just as she caught his eye, he looked away.

Directed at Raven, he spoke firmly, “I expect more from you.”

Not long after, they had gotten word that Shaw would be in Russia, and so she was left with the group of mutants when the three left alongside the CIA to get their hands on him. Before, it would have made her wonder what purpose the group of mutants really served if they didn’t want them there to help. Now, after the incident, she understood why.

By no means were any of them prepared for such a task. She couldn’t claim to be either. She only agreed because she knew a part within her would hate her for not coming and at the very least trying to help.

Just when she thought she and the solemn group couldn’t be any more of a liability, she was proven wrong. Because now Sebastian Shaw stood in front of them, smug and irritating as ever, after having his lackey drop an unsuspecting CIA to his death in front of all of them and cornering them. 

“Good evening. My name's Sebastian Shaw, and I'm not here to hurt you.” She was sure she wasn’t the only one assuming he had taken out every single CIA operative in the facility to make it this far; a thought that filled her being with even more dread than she was already feeling at the sight of him. “My friends, there's a revolution coming. When mankind discovers who we are, what we can do, each of us will face a choice. Be enslaved or rise up to rule. Choose freely, but know that if you are not with us, then by definition, you are against us. So, you can stay and fight for the people who hate and fear you. Or you can join me, and love like kings and queens.”

They all watched, both shocked and betrayed when Angel took the hand Shaw outstretched, standing by his side even when he murdered Darwin in his attempt to stop him with Alex. She didn’t see it - she turned away the second Shaw released the energy he’d taken from Alex into Darwin. She heard it, though. The explosion. When she turned back, as Shaw, Angel, and the men he had brought with him retreated, she saw nothing. There was no sign of Darwin; not even a speck of dust.

Suddenly, her chest tightened and the clawing came back.

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

The person who happened to almost send them home also happened to be the one who provided them a new place to train their powers for the fight with Shaw. Charles was entirely serious and extremely close to sending them all home; “They’re just kids.” But Erik made it clear to him that they couldn’t be anymore, not after Shaw.

Charles lived, alongside Raven, in a massive mansion that had been entirely too big for her to take in, but it provided the perfect space for them to train their powers. Each of them were assigned rooms by Charles personally that day. 

He took the liberty of walking them each there. She didn’t know if it was just her or a Charles thing, but he stayed quiet. Unusual for a man that had so much to say. But then again, with what they’ve already been through, she couldn’t imagine he was feeling very chatty. She certainly wouldn’t have been in his situation. Granted, she would be feeling the same way now, but in her predicament by this point, she wouldn’t mind someone else’s verbal company.

The second he guided her through the bedroom

door, she began to take in the sheer size of the room, feeling bigger than life itself in the way that she was feeling. The bed was even better; huge and looked as though the softness of it would swallow her into a warm hug. Her first instinct would have been to jump right onto it, but the fact that Charles ceased to leave and instead remained planted there, giving her a look she couldn’t make out once she turned to face him, made her fight against her urges.

She opened her mouth in an attempt to utter an “Are you alright?” but never got the chance. Instead, Charles spoke as soon as her mouth opened, slowly, as if to make sure she understood every word he was saying like she had been incapable of doing so before, “Training starts tonight, but I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

With her brows furrowed in confusion, she nodded, and Charles began to walk away. He stopped by the frame of the door, back to her, and spoke again, “Try and get some rest.”

With that, he shut the door behind him. Now, she was left in the room alone, tiredness washing over her. Awaiting the next day, she decided to fall into the cloud that was the bed and fall asleep while she could.

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

The next morning was when Charles asked to see her - by Raven. The young woman led her over to a room, an odd dome shaped one, where Charles stood waiting. He wasn’t the same as the night before - uncomfortable, was the only way she knew to describe it - welcoming and encouraging.

“We’ve got plenty of work to do,” Charles spoke, hands in his pockets, as she entered and Raven excused herself elsewhere. Looking around, she could see evidence that training had started last night, namely Alex’s. Dark scuff marks were streaked across walls of the dome on the end farthest from them and small balls of fluff on the floor remained, assumingly left behind in the midst of a quick clean up of training dummies that had been torn open.

Despite the mess, several other objects were placed across the floor. All ranged from light to heavy. Chairs, weights - it looked to be anything he could have been capable of carrying in with the help of the others.

She stopped in front of him. “What’s this?”

The man’s smile widened before he started, rather loudly at that. “Well.” He moved towards the objects then spun around to face her, arms outstretched. “This is the beginning of your training.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking at the man unimpressed. “You want me to move this stuff around?”

“You’re not just moving stuff around.” Charles shook his head, arms dropping to his sides as he declared. “You don’t need to move everything here. I only need to see how much you can handle.” His head tilted as he looked at her, blue eyes meeting her own as his expression retreated to one of curiosity. “And how you handle it.”

She didn’t think the professor was aware of the innuendo within the situation, so she let it go despite the sweet stomach dropping feeling that came over her. Instead, she shrugged. “Then what?”

“Then,” Charles hesitated for a moment, “Erik was able to move a satellite dish. If it happens to be possible-”

“A satellite dish?” She laughed incredulously, “You can be serious.”

Charles nodded towards her, challenging her statements as he took a few steps forward. “And what is it that’s making you believe you’re incapable of doing anything similar?”

“Look.” She shook her head, looking directly at him when she said, “I can move the average household item, shut a door and maybe, just maybe, bust it down, but I couldn’t push your couch across the room, let alone move a fu- a satellite dish.”

Charles’ brows furrowed. “And that’s what you believe?”

She hummed. “That’s what I know.”

“Well,” he sighed, disappointment written across his face that sent her into a spiral, “There’s not much we can do if you don’t believe you can better yourself, is there?”

The second he walked past her was when it felt as though ice water had been spilt onto her. A mixture of confusion and gloom washed over her before she turned to see Charles’ back, still moving towards the door. “What?”

He stopped in his tracks at her exclamation, waiting several moments as if contemplating before he turned back to her. Carefully, he asked, “Why do you take them?”

She shook her head, looking almost offended. “How did you-”

“Your mind,” Charles confirmed, “It gets quieter.”

The offence on her face never ceased, but the uncomfortable mixture of feelings she was overwhelmed with had her shrug in response to his question. Charles only nodded and gave her a tight smile before turning back.

She closed her eyes, resigning herself with huff. She could go back to the life she had come to know and hate, or she could take the second chance he was giving her even if it did include the prospect of some suffering.

“I don’t take them for fun.” The sound of her voice made Charles stop again. This time, he waited. “When I touch a person I don’t just take every experience. I take every memory.”

He turned around to face her once more and gave her nod, signalling her to continue. She breathed in and out. “I see and I feel everything that’s happened to them. That’s a lot and it’s enough, but that’s not why I-”

She cut herself off, feeling herself choke on the words before shaking her head and persisting herself on despite Charles’ look of concern. “I take them because, when I take their memories, I take all of their thoughts too. Every one. So every thought of murder, or rape, or suicide, or any fucked up thing, keeps tearing me apart from the inside out.”

Charles nodded, walking closer to her, choosing his words carefully as he spoke, sympathy written deep in his soft voice, “And they scare you.”

She shook her head. Looking away from him for a moment, she willed away tears she felt gathering. She turned back to him. “The thought of acting on them scares me.”

Although slightly taken aback by the revelation, Charles holds his composure. He nodded before opening his mouth to respond, walking closer as he began.

The only reaction he got was her taking a step back, shaking her head. “I swear I’m not a bad person.” Charles assumed she didn’t want him touching her - considering she took away every thought. “I’m always all these people at once - I don’t even know who I am.”

“Then we will figure it out.” Charles tilted his head, making sure her eyes met his when she attempted to look away. His voice was soft and reassuring to her ears, even if she didn’t know whether to believe him or not. “You aren’t alone, Y/N.”

As it turns, the drugs were having a large effect on her ability to use her powers - the next few days told her as much. By no means was she capable of moving a satellite dish, but she had been able to take her powers to lengths she never thought she could have been able to.

Most of it was due to Charles - he’d spent most of the next few days with her, pushing her, sometimes to the point where she’d snap at him. She always calmed, though, and Charles always remained coolheaded.

Still, they grew closer. Or at least she grew closer to him. She couldn’t tell if the praise, the laughs, the banter, and the willingness to come back together after a fight only meant something to her. She hoped it did - because why else wouldn’t he just give up on her? All that time spent on advancing her powers to defeat Shaw, and he still talked about helping her as though their relationship would continue past this mission.

Part of her wanted to touch him so she could just know. Even if he hadn’t taken such a liking to her as she had him, at the very least try to understand him in his entirety and make a space for herself in his life. Then, another part of her was horrified at what she would find in there.

For the time being, there wasn’t much opportunity to dwell on it. The day they would head out was coming soon, and Erik suggested the group get a good night’s rest. They would all need it.

With her luck, she didn’t know why she thought that sleep would come easy that night. Whether it was due to adrenaline, anxiety, or anything else, didn’t matter. Because whatever was keeping her up had her pacing the hallways of Charles’ estate that night.

She wasn’t looking for it, but instead happened upon a conversation. 

“… no difference. Shaw’s declared war on mankind. On all of us. He has to be stopped.” She heard Charles’ voice through a door as she passed by. Although knowing that he could probably make out the sound of her mind from a mile away, she still stopped by it. She grew even more curious when she heard Erik’s voice. 

“I'm not gonna stop Shaw. I'm gonna kill him. Do you have it in you to allow that?” A moment of silence passed and she shifted on her feet. It made the floor creek. She shut her eyes and bit her lip, nervous, expecting to hear the sound of one of their footsteps coming to open the door and catch her eavesdropping. Whether they heard or not, she didn’t know as Erik continued on, “You've known all along why I was here, Charles. But things have changed. What started as a covert mission, tomorrow mankind will know that mutants exist. Shaw, us, they won't differentiate. They'll fear us. And that fear will turn to hatred.”

“Not if we stop a war,” Charles’ voice wavered on a line of urgency and assurance, “Not if we can prevent Shaw. Not if we risk our lives doing so.”

Charles very well could have been doing nothing but reassuring Erik with his words, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually trying to reassure himself. As if the world wouldn’t either discard or abuse them once they’ve served their purpose of their betterment. 

“Will they do the same for us?”

“We have it in us to be the better men.”

“We already are.” Erik’s voice quickly turned from calm to urgent when he next spoke. “We're the next stage of human evolution. You said it yourself!”

“No, no!” She heard Charles attempt to cut Erik off before he sighed. She could practically hear the disappointment in it, although she couldn’t say she felt the same. He only let Erik continue.

“Are you really so naive as to think that they won't battle their own extinction?” She heard him pause. “Or is it arrogance?”

“I’m sorry?” As if Charles had misheard him. 

She shifted on her feet once more as their voices became more hushed, despite the feeling coming from the room becoming more hostile than calm. This time, she was more careful. Nothing made a sound below her feet when she moved closer to the door, pressing her ear against it, as well as her left palm for support.

“After tomorrow, they're gonna turn us. But you're blind to it, because you believe they're all like Moira.” 

“And you believe they're all like Shaw.” Came Charles’ immediate response. Calmly, she heard him continue, “Listen to me very carefully my friend. Killing Shaw will not bring you peace.”

Erik’s voice never wavered when he told Charles, “Peace was never an option.”

Footsteps came far too fast for her to move away from the door. In a split second, she found herself leaning against the door to crashing into Erik’s chest when he pulled the door open. For a moment, Erik stood staring down at her, watching her attempt to recompose herself and attempt to apologize. She didn’t get a word out before he moved past her and walked away.

She watched his form retreat before she turned back to the room. Standing in the doorway, she saw Charles sitting in the chair facing away from her. With his eyes closed and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, “You realize I can hear your mind from across this house?”

She took a step in, almost reluctantly. She didn’t imagine Charles would be content with anything she had to say, but maybe she could make him understand. “Erik’s right, you know.”

Her words had Charles’ eyes snap open. He got out the chair, setting down the drink he was nursing on the table next to him, before he turned to face her. “Excuse me?”

“Peace isn’t an option ‘cause we’re never gonna get peace.” She shook her head, desperation in both her voice and eyes as she stared into his. “Erik thinks they’re gonna turn on us. They might not, but it doesn’t mean any of us will get any peace. They won’t all be like Shaw, they won’t all be like Moira, but most of them - most of them will just be human. They’ll fear us and they’ll judge us. It doesn’t matter how harmless we are or not.”

She watched as Charles took a step forward, his head tilting to the side, expression unreadable as his voice remained calm. “You can’t be serious.” It was a statement - a wrong one.

“Shaw needs to die,” She spoke with assurance. She felt her eyes fill with tears, Charles watching her suck in a breath and release as he began to walk closer to her, before she spoke in a whisper, no longer trusting her voice, “Shaw needs to die for what he did to us. We’re going to kill him, Charles.”

They’re faces we’re merely inches apart, chilling her to the bone as he looked at her. What she thought he would never do is what he tried the second he began to raise his hand, speaking quickly to her when he asked, “Us?”

His hand almost cupped her cheek when she turned her head away from it. Immediately, his hand froze. Charles watched her profile as more tears welled up in her eyes and her lips began to tremble. Voice weak and tearful, staring away from him, she pleaded, “Please don’t confuse me. I can’t-”

“I know you feel it,” Charles’ other hand came up to guide her face back to him despite her, whispering carefully, “But it is not your cross to bear.”

His hand was warm against her cheek. Comforting - enough to make her mind go blank. Wishful thinking, of course, because soon the clawing in her head would come back with a vengeance at having a man such as Charles touch her. For now, though, he felt safe. Stable. Enough so that she could close her eyes for a moment and let the tears fall as he leaned down to her and let his forehead press against hers. 

“You can’t help but feel his pain,” She felt his breath against her lips as he spoke, his voice the same soft and soothing as she’s known it to be, “But you can decide what you do with it.”

She shook her head gently and pulled away, but still letting Charles’ hand rest against her cheek. “It’s not just-” she whispered to him, mouth feeling dry as her eyes avoided his, trying to piece her thoughts together. His hand slid down to the base of her neck, guiding her eyes to his. She licked her lips before she swallowed. “I barely knew Darwin, but he killed him right in front of us. And it was cruel and scary and I couldn’t even make myself look at it when it happened.”

“I know.” Charles brought his other hand up to brush away slow falling tears she hadn’t even known began to escape. He voiced nothing but concern, letting her continue as if he knew what she was going to say next. 

Her hands reached up to wrap around his wrists, not to pull his hands away from her, but to simply hold onto them. Almost as if they were an anchor to make up for the tears she now felt were falling faster down her face as she realized. “For the first time, I think I want something, I feel this anger and fear, because of my head. I saw it first and I felt it first. It’s mine, and now I have a real responsibility to take care of it.”

“Not with murder.” Her hands tightened around his wrists as he brought her face closer to his own. A frown on his face as he desperately told her, “I meant it when I told you that we would figure this out together. You told me you were never your own person, that you don’t even know yourself. We were - we are - going to bring you into existence. I beg you, Y/N, don’t let yourself be brought into this world as a murderer.”

His words, as beautiful as they were, only half registered within her brain. All she found herself focusing on then was how close he was. She would think back later and come to realize that it was because the only thing making her tears stop and giving her the will not to commit a murder was the prospect of approval she would get from a man like him. From someone who could never understand her struggle, someone who never tried to or tried to make her feel as though there was some way out. From someone who wanted to build on it and show her the strength she could find within it.

Realistically, she knew he would have a few words for her if she ever outwardly admitted to him that she used approval as a means for bettering herself, but it was the best she could do at the time being.

Charles’ brows furrowed as he watched her face, spaced out and regarding him with an expression not even he could read. Somewhere deep down, though, he knew he had gotten through to her. His lips curled up slightly, speaking lowly with amusement evident in his voice, “Now where did you go?”

Her eyes shot from his lips to his eyes once more. As quick as they made eye contact, she leaned forward to press her lips against his. Lips soft, she kissed him carefully, one hand moving to cup his face. Only in the last few moments did he respond to it by kissing back.

She pulled away, looking at him nervously and letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in. Her mouth was dry again. “I’m sorry-”

She was cut off by Charles’ lips on hers once more. She kissed back instantly, sighing into the kiss in content. Feeling Charles smirk against her lips and deepen the kiss, she put both hands behind his neck, pulling his body closer to hers. He took her lower lip between his teeth, pulling slightly as he let his hands trail down her body to her waist, pulling her to make sure there wasn’t the slightest gap between their bodies.

Their lips broke apart, but only long enough to allow for a quick breath. Charles pushed his lips back into hers as her hands snaked down to the collar of his dress shirt, playing carefully with the top button.

Eventually, their lips broke apart as they caught their breath. Bodies still pressed together, Charles leant forward to rest his forehead onto hers, her eyes still close, for a moment before pressing a kiss to it. He placed his chin on top of her head and rested there, her head resting against the crook of his neck as she felt him - anticipating what it would feel like to feel nothing but him. 

[tickly-trashcan]

Comeuppance {Aether, Lumine, and Venti}

A/N: we talked about this a little bit in the discord server a while back and it has finally come to fruition uhuhu~ Hope y’all like this one! I had a lot of fun with it oughhh

Summary: Sitting in the fields, Venti decides to mess with Aether. But when Lumine finds out just how much he teases her brother, how will she serve his comeuppance?

Word Count: 1.4k (under the cut)

Lumine, Aether and Venti sat underneath the tree at Windrise, laying down in the grass, Venti laying between the twins with his arms behind his head as he hummed, Aether quietly snoring next to him as Lumine sat on his opposite side, hands folded neatly over her stomach.

“Aether~ Wakey wakey~” Venti teased, glancing over at the sleeping boy, one hand on his stomach with the other lazily held above his head. Venti grinned, poking Aether’s underarm a few times, making the blonde squeak and quickly jolt awake.

“Ventiiii,” Aether whined, propping himself up on his elbows as Lumine glanced over at the two boys, Venti chuckling as he stuck out his tongue, shrugging.

“You were falling asleep, it’s not my fault!”

“Well you didn’t have to tickle me! You always do that,” Aether pouted. Lumine propped herself up as well, glancing over at Aether as she frowned.

“Does he?”

Aether nodded, sending a soft glare at Venti who still had his arms behind his head, whistling innocently with a smug grin on his face.

“Yeah, a lot. I’d say every other day,” Aether confessed, laying back down, squeaking again when Venti poked him once more, Lumine now sending a soft glare at Venti.

“That’s not very fair, don’t you let him get you back, Venti?”

Venti shrugged again and Lumine frowned. “It’s impossible for him to get me back, I’m not even ticklish. And if you’re anything like your brother, I bet I could take you both on at the same time,” He said cockily, grin widening.

Lumine looked over at Aether, who sat with his arms crossed, pouting. Lumine glanced back at Venti, who was sitting up, wiggling his fingers at Lumine. She raised an eyebrow as he jumped at her, immediately scribbling up and down her sides. She didn’t react, just stared at him as he looked up at her, confusion on his face.

“Wh-What? Are you guys lying about being siblings??”

Lumine grabbed Venti’s wrist, making him squeak as she shoved him down, pinning him easily as she straddled him. Aether looked over in curiosity as Venti squirmed beneath her, panic setting in on his features as he looked up at Lumine, who still held his wrist in her hand.

“Lumine! H-Hey, come on, get off!” Venti started, and Lumine only smirked.

“Why are you so scared, Venti? I thought you weren’t ticklish?”

“I’m not!”

Lumine glanced at Aether who was staring at her, a small grin on his face. She nodded at him and he quickly crawled over, sitting himself down on Venti’s thighs, back-to-back with Lumine. Venti’s eyes widened as he squirmed more, looking up at Lumine in fear. She only grinned back, letting go of his wrist and latching her hands on his hips, Venti jolting from the light touch.

Lumine glanced back at Aether, who turned slightly to look at her, smirking.

“How many times did you say he’s gotten you?”

“Too many, but I’d say at least thirty.”

“Then how about thirty minutes Venti, hmm? I mean, if you’re not ticklish that should be easy, right?”

Venti shook his head frantically, Lumine chuckling as she started to gently knead his hips, Venti immediately starting to giggle as Lumine cocked her head to the side.

“Oh? You’re laughing? That would mean… the great Anemo Archon is ticklish? Aww, how cute~” She teased, Venti’s face going bright red in embarrassment as he shook his head, giggling.

“I’m nohohohot!”

“Sure doesn’t sound like it!” Aether piped in, touching Venti’s knees gently, making him immediately kick and squeak.

“Don’t!” He shrieked, and Aether hummed. 

“I think you deserve at least a little tickling, wouldn’t you agree sis?”

“Most definitely.”

“Y-You guys! You don’t have to do this, look, I’m sorrehehehehehe - wahait! Lumihihine!” He squawked when Lumine started squeezing his hips again, digging her thumb into the bone as he threw his head back.

He shrieked shrilly when Aether started squeezing his knees as well, Venti kicking frantically as two of his worst spots were attacked easily by the twins. His hysterical cackles immediately filled the air around them, making Lumine laugh.

“You sound like a goose, Venti,” Lumine teased, making Aether laugh as he scribbled under Venti’s knees, making the god practically scream.

“He does!”

“I do nohohohot!” Venti whined, yelling suddenly when Lumine climbed up to his ribs, clawing at them as he clamped his arms down, trying to block out the sensations but only managing to trap her hands. 

Aether slowly spidered his fingers across the top of Venti’s knee, making Venti howl. The sensations were bad enough on their own, but his thin tights only seemed to heighten the feeling, making it agonizingly ticklish. He shook his head back and forth, tears of mirth pooling in his eyes as Lumine cooed at him, teasing him.

“Can the great Anemo Archon really not handle a little tickling? Why dish it out so much if you can barely take it?”

Venti’s face went bright red as he snorted, Lumine and Aether laughing with him as he scrunched up his nose, covering his face in embarrassment.

“So he sounds like a goose and he snorts?” Aether chuckled, and Venti whined, kicking his legs more as another snort escaped, making the twins laugh once more. 

“I’m gohohohonna get yohohohou for this, Aetheheheher!” Venti threatened, screaming when Lumine clicked her tongue, going back to his hips and kneading them harder than before, making him squirm desperately.

“You’re in no place to be making threats now, Venti… How long has it been Aether?”

“Hmm… five minutes?”

“Twenty-five to go, Venti~” Lumine teased, making Venti positively squeal as his mirthful tears began to spill onto his red cheeks. He tried weakly to kick his legs, digging his heels into the earth beneath him as Aether squeezed his kneecaps.

“Aehehehehether!! Wait! Luhuhumine, not theheheHEHERE!” Venti whined, shrieking when Lumine started scribbling over his tummy, Venti throwing his head back and cackling as Lumine laughed at him.

“Can’t take what you dish out, now can you Venti?”

Venti shook his head wildly, snorting and hiccuping as tears stained his cheeks, his wild and frantic laughter only growing in volume when Lumine scratched how lower tummy, pinching lightly as he threw his head back, grabbing onto Lumine’s wrists for support as she chuckled at him.

“NAhahaha! Plehehehease, I’m dyinggg!” Venti wailed, and Aether barked out a laugh, scribbling under Venti’s knees as he screeched.

“You’re not dying, you’ve gotten me way worse than this!”

“Hahahahave not!”

Lumine tutted, dancing her fingers along Venti’s ribs as he howled, squirming around and whining as Lumine grinned.

“We’re gonna tickle you within an inch of your life,” She said, sounding almost threatening. Aether glanced at her, slightly concerned with her tone.

“You’re joking… right?”

“Maybe~,” Lumine cooed, shoving her hands under Venti’s arms as he screamed with mirth.

Snorts, guffaws, and shrieks filled the air as the twins continued to tickle the living hell out of Venti, who couldn’t do anything but take it and cackle. His face was bright red, tears streaming down his cheeks as he dug his heels into the ground, Aether now kneading his lower thighs as Lumine went back for his tummy.

“I CAHAhahahan’t! No mohohore, plehehehease!”

“Hmm… what do you think, Aether? Mercy?”

Aether craned his head around to look at Venti’s face, seeing nothing but a bright red mess that Venti had been reduced to. Aether nodded quickly, and Lumine sighed, slowing her fingers as Aether immediately pulled away from Venti and got off of him as if he were running from a crime scene.

Lumine got off of the Archon as well, giving him a chance to breathe as he immediately curled on himself, one hand covering his tummy as he pointed at the twins with his other hand.

“You… twins… evil… especially you,” he said, pointing at Lumine, who only chuckled.

“Thanks, it’s my specialty.”

Aether puffed his chest, looking down at Venti with his hands on his hips. He smirked, Venti looking up at him as residual giggles continued to spill from his lips.

“Not gonna tickle me anymore, huh Venti?”

“Who said I wasn’t?” Venti said with a grin, sitting up and wiggling his fingers at Aether, who squeaked. He was about to pounce on him, but Lumine hooked her arms under Venti’s, pulling him back as he yelped.

“Ready for round two already, Venti~?”

“No! Wait, I was kihihihidding! Aetheeeer!” Venti wailed as he was tickled to pieces by the twins yet again. Will he ever learn?

[forthechubbies]

What's Wrong With Secretary Park?!

Synopsis• If balancing work and a stubborn ex-husband isn't hard enough, Let's add the boss’s seven sons falling head over heels for her to mix.

Category's• Romcon, Comedy, Office Au.

Duos• BTS X Reader

A spin-off of the original series ‘ What's Wrong With Secretary Kim’ Bangtan Edition! Starring the Handsome, Seo-Joon Park as the Ex husband.

There will be more parts but I didn’t want the title to be to long.

EP. One Two

“ Mrs. Park, Good Morning!”

“Mrs. Park, What does my schedule look like today?”

“Mrs. Park, Your coffee keeps me alive.”

In case you haven’t noticed, Park Yn, I’m the secretary to Jeon Sung-ho, the CEO of Dnd Parmatech, 85 percent of the time, newly build hospitals or centers use our funds as kickstarts. Daily I make schedules, appointments, filing documents, answering calls, and blah blah blah.

Is it boring? Yes, I know. However, quite refreshing coming from my hectic marriage. Once upon a time, I was wedded to the marvelous actor Park Seo-Joon for three years. I sat in the limelight and even had the privilege to play the part of his wife in movies. Sigh. Although the attention and riches were grand, no amount of expensive counseling could save our marriage. We never saw eye to eye on anything, and his short temper wasn’t helping.

Knowing my worth, I packed up and left without a doubt in my head. However, The documentation of our separation wasn’t finalized due to a certain one refusing to sign off on the divorce agreement. So physically, I’m still Mrs. Park but ain’t no piece of paper telling who I belong too.

Whatever! I have too much to focus on already! Game on, Game on! First, I got to get these papers approved and signed by Mr. Jeon then-

Buzz Buzz Buzz!

Who’s calling-

Speak of the devil. I could have sworn I deleted his contact a long time ago! “ What Seo-Joon? I’m busy-“

“ When is this little temper tantrum going to end? Darling, I think you made your point.”

“My point?! Listen here, You slimy son of-” Now, Now Yn calm down calm down don’t let him get a rise out you that just what he wants. A quick exhale should do the trick. “ Seo-Joon, I believe we reached an agreed on no type of communication unless it revolves around the settlement for the divorce.”

How is it possible I can physically see his snarky face?

Seo-Joon stretched out his list of complaints.” It’s been over a year. I miss your kisses, soft skin, that cute birthmark on your-“

“ You will not talk about such embarrassing things over the phone!” Thank goodness, Nobody was around to hear me shot like that.

“Why is this divorce still an issue?!” There goes that temper again-How whinny can one man be? “ If you don’t stop this, I will take matters into my own hands.”

I laughed. “ Ha, Seo-jerk, I’m not scared of you! Do your worst because It doesn’t matter if you drag me back home; it doesn’t subside the problem being over our marriage.” I feel like a broken record at this point. “ If this isn’t about the papers, this conversation is over, Mr. Park; please refrain from calling me again, goodbye.”

He chuckled and mumbled something along the lines of, “ Your cute acting cheeky like this.” The rest he continued louder “ Those delicate hands of yours were made to indulge in the finest silk and satin I can obtain, not working nine to five at whatever job hired a housewife with zero work ethic. I just know I haven’t touched your side of the room since that night- I love you, Mrs.Park, I always will.”

He hung up. You know, after he finished insulting my new lifestyle and calling me a useless housewife, the ‘ I love you’ bit at the end sounds sincere, but he is an actor! Of course.

Hmph! Just because I’m working for myself for one doesn’t mean I’m miserable. I’m actually in love with my job, It pays well with benefits, and I sat on my butt all day. If that pompous little bedazzled turd thinks making me the butt of his jokes will get me back in his arms, he has another thing coming!

“Um, Mrs. Park?”

“ What!” I snapped. “ Oh, Hoseok, I’m sorry!” I bowed my head; the poor thing nearly jumped out of his shoes.

Hoseok beamed his warm heart-shaped smile at me. “ Oppa is having a family meeting today; I guess I’m the first to show.”

I wasn’t informed about a meeting today from Mr.Jeon, maybe because it’s a family affair.

“Tada!” He cutely squeaks. A tasteful package breakfast alongside a tall cup of what I presume is a coffee from..’ Thanks Nature’!

“Oh my- Hobi, this cafe is across town-”

“I overhead Oppa scolding you for skipping meals one day and I’m here to do the same, don’t skip meals or else We will be hurt if something happens to you.” Hoseok pointed at the pack. “ Eat every bit.”

Hoseok displayed a small heart using his index finger and thumb, hopping off to his father’s double doors.

Mr. Jeon has seven sons in all. The man is a true saint; men like him and his sons are why I still believe not all men are dogs. After losing his wife to heart cancer, He just about went bankrupt, donating all he had to have found cures to multiple diseases hoping nobody else had to suffer his same heartbreak.

Love found him again in an orphanage just north of here, ‘Seoul Children Home.’ His first son, Kim Seokjin, at the time Jin was already in his teenage years, making it difficult for him to find a family due to the high demand of couples wanting a single-digit child. His birth family mistreated him, but he was beaten everywhere except his face to keep his handsome appearance. The family decided to put his money-maker to fair use and attempted to sell him. Seokjin saw his opportunity and high-tailed, landing himself in the orphanage where he happily lends a helping hand every chance he got. He learned how to read, write, cook, clean, and even tend to the tots when the nuns were busy.

This is how he met his slightly younger brothers, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, and Kim Namjoon; when being chosen for adoption, Seokjin refused to live without his baby brothers by his side.

“ Hello, Noona!”

Oh, Look just in time, “ Hello, You’re father is in his office.”

Namjoon eyed my edible gift from Hobi and raised his eyebrow as well as a question. “ So this is why Hyung left so early in the morning for-and I hope you’re having a good morning, Noona.”

I’m not older than them. Why do they call me Noona? Do I look old!?

“ Yn, Good morning! How are you!” Jin greeted me with English this morning. He must have been practicing with Namjoon lately.

“ I’m Fine. Seokjin.”

“Chu.” He blew a kiss my way. “ You’re not fine. You’re amazeing.”

“Amazing.” Namjoon corrected for the sidelines.

“Same thing.”

“Pronunciation is everything, Hyung.”

They stopped halfway from their dad’s office. Jin grinned. Wait, I know that smile; oh no, here comes a dad joke.

“ Hey, Namjoon-You know the reason I took the elevator instead of the stairs?”

Namjoon sighed. “ No, why?”

"I don't trust stairs. They're always up to something." Jin burst out laughing and clapped his hands.

I giggled not from the joke, but Jin has a contagious laugh.

“See, Yn has good taste.”

A slow deep groan entered the office belonging to Yoongi, lagging. “ I heard that terrible joke from the elevator.” Yoongi waved and leaned against my desk. “ Good Morning.”

“Good Morning.”

There was an awkward pause before Yoongi tapped my desk and pointed to his dad’s office from walking that way.

“Yoon-Yoongi!?”

He turned back towards me.

“ I have something for you. I packed it up on the way here.” Getting off my butt, I walked up and gave him a bottle of his favorite black ice coffee. Ew. I don’t know how he drinks it with no cream or sugar.

Yoongi smiled his gummy smile. “ Thank you for thinking of me.”

“You’re welcome.” And off he goes into the office as well.

Yoongi isn’t the biggest fan of human interaction, but he put forth an endeavor towards me, whether it’s a light ‘ Hi or Hello” or the simplicity of a wave. I admire his gusto. Sidenote, He’s so adorable-I know I know I shouldn’t be gushing over my boss’s son, but his chubby cheeks and almond eyes melt my heart like butter on toast!

Ahem-I better get back to answering those emails and drink this beautiful cup of expensive mud before it gets lukewarm. Yummy, The delectable taste is a boost of serotonin! I really should get to work buuut Hobi did command me to get every last bit and technically he is my boss through some type of weird relative aspect. He is the boss.

Just in a moment of seconds, The breakfast and drink was trash. Something that good should be sinful. I feel terrible I should have saved some for the babies; they would have some, especially Jungkook.

The babies should be here any minute.

[gohyuck]

1/7 of my milestone drabbles!

pairing: streetracer!mark lee x reader

genre: fluff/angst/smut

word count: 2.1k

plot request: @hansolstea​ said: streetracer au + “if you think you can beat me on the tracks, then you’re on the wrong side of the wheel”

warnings: not chronological so pay attention to timestamps, ambiguous relationship between the main characters, mild car accident, explicit sex, choking, ...cumming inside, mild overstimulation, slightly shitty aftercare due to the setting

SATURDAY 1:27 A.M.

“fucking take it.” he growls in your ear from above you, burying your face further into the pillow and readjusting your position so your hips are higher in the air. you let a gasping moan out without meaning to, and mark, almost without thinking, lands a hand against your ass in response, drawing forth a keening wail. “you think you’re all that, huh? think you’re invincible? hm? answer me.” 

“n-no, fuck, mark, i-” he speeds up his hips, pistoning into you at a breakneck pace, almost smothering you into the motel bed’s surprisingly soft pillow. it’s obvious that he doesn’t care about what you say as long as it isn’t the safe word. you already know he’ll leave you bruised and battered, aching from how hard he’s fucking you, but you also know not to expect anything else. 

mark lee is not your friend. mark lee certainly isn’t your lover. mark lee is a cocky, inflammatory bastard who has never hesitated to push your buttons in public. he brings out the worst in you, and you bring out the worst in him. 

unfortunately for everyone involved, mark’s the best fuck you’ve ever had, and you know that he’s never had as good a time sticking his dick in anyone else. 

as he pulls out, causing you to whine at the loss of contact, only to flip you over and immediately plow into you again, hard arms caging you in against the bed, you can’t help but think back to the series of events that led you here. not four hours earlier, you’d been on the ‘track’, jeno’s ford mustang right beside mark’s chevy corvette c6. everything that had happened there had led to what’s happening now. 

“fucking take it,” mark growls again, almost unaware of what he himself is saying at this point. you’d laugh at him if you weren’t drunk off of him. his words bring you back to the present, your back arching until your chest meets his. “someone has to put you in your place.”

FRIDAY 9:55 P.M.

“come to get your ass beat?” 

mark whirls around to see you leaning against your brother’s bright red mustang, a smirk adorning your features. he’s always been reactionary when it comes to you, and tonight is no different: his relaxed gaze hardens immediately as it falls on you, and his otherwise gentle smile morphs into a sneer. still, he attempts to maintain his composure, never wanting the first of you two to break. 

“you’re not even driving tonight, princess. that’s big talk for someone too scared to race against me.”

“not my fault my brother wanted a piece of you first. be grateful - you couldn’t handle going against me.” you respond with ease, pushing yourself off of the car in favor of walking towards the man you can’t stand. his shoulders tense up for a moment, only to ease up again as he rolls them back, shoving both of his hands into his black bomber jacket’s pockets.  you take a split second to appraise him, though you pray he doesn’t realize that you’re checking him out: black bomber, plain white tee, a thin checkered red flannel, ripped black skinny jeans, a dark brown belt, and a black beanie. even you can’t deny how attractive he is, no matter how badly you wish you could.

your eyes have trailed to his chest, and when you snap your head up to look at him, he’s smirking. that bastard. 

“if you think you can beat me on the tracks, then you’re on the wrong side of the wheel,” he shrugs his shoulders, very obviously presenting you with a challenge. “should be inside the car, not outside it… unless you’re afraid, princess. i’d let you off the hook if you were, of course. it would be understandable: nobody wants to lose.”

“call me princess one more fucking time-” you retort, so close to him that you can smell his cologne. 

“princess.” he draws the word out, and that’s the only mark lee you’ve ever known. the pain in your ass. he’s a good friend of jeno’s - hell, your brother even looks up to the man smirking at you right now - and gets along well with everyone you know. you’re the only exception, and you don’t know how to feel about that.

anger. arousal, maybe- no, just anger. it’s just anger, you tell yourself. before you can even sort out your own thoughts, you find yourself turning, yelling out your brother’s name. 

“i’m driving tonight,” you call out, leaving no room for argument. “me versus mark.”

jeno looks at you, then at his friend, and then back at you, mouth falling open as if to argue. as his eyes meet yours, though, he knows: bickering with you is futile. your brother tosses you the keys to his precious car, and when you meet mark’s eyes again, you’re the one smirking this time. 

“good luck,” you sneer, leaning close until you’re as in his face as you possibly could be. “princess.”

FRIDAY 11:39 P.M.

you’ve never seen him look quite this downright pissed. mark is genuinely one of the more easygoing, mild-mannered men you’ve met, only even acting ‘riled up’ whenever someone - typically hyuck or yuta - makes an inflammatory or downright jokingly flirtatious comment at him. it takes a lot for him to feel rage, and even you don’t think you evoke emotions that strong from him. he’s been insanely annoyed with you, yes, but it usually isn’t anything too far past that.

now, though? now mark fuckin’ lee has a steel grip on your left wrist as he tugs you out of the car. it isn’t too bad - the bumper is crooked, now, and one of the sideview mirrors is dangling and both taken together will cost a very unsexy couple of grands to fix without accounting for the paint - but you can hear your brother’s bemoaned wails at what you’ve done to his precious car. you’re surprised at yourself, too: you’ve never crashed before. 

you’d looked over at mark for a split second too long while going just a hair too fast, and then, suddenly, the side of your - jeno’s - car was scraping some corporate compound’s metal fence. you’d panicked to a stop upon hearing the metallic crunching noises, and had only later heard mark’s c6 screeching to a halt up ahead. he’d yelled your name, you’d thought, but you were still dazed.

that, and jeno, who’d been just ahead at the finish line, had already started screaming by then. not for you. for his car. 

“what the hell were you thinking?” mark yells, pulling you just a little too hard, causing you to stumble into his chest. “why didn’t you slow the fuck down?”

“i- shit, i didn’t realize until it was too late.” you can’t even throw the same tone of voice back in his face, too preoccupied with the realization that, had your steering been just a little off, you might be mangled in the mustang right now. 

the race had gotten cut short then, with you apologizing profusely to your brother for as long as possible afterwards. mark had stepped back, watched on as the two of you assessed the damage to jeno’s car. it was only everyone else had left and jeno’d realized that he’d have to drive home with his car in the mess that it was that mark had stepped in between you and your sibling, offering to let you stay with him for the night rather than risk you and your brother killing each other over the mustang (‘nana’, so affectionately named by jeno after his best friend).

“thank fuck,” jeno’d said, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head in exasperation. 

“fuck this,” you’d muttered under your breath, though a part of you truly is thankful for the intervention and the distraction both. mark had heard you. jeno hadn’t. 

you expect to pull up to the apartment mark shares with his friends yuta and jungwoo, but, instead, he pulls into the parking lot of a motel you know well. of course you do - you’ve rendezvoused here with him on multiple accounts before. it’s only then, as mark fixes a hard, dark gaze on you, that you realize what you’re in for. his mouth meets your skin, your hands meet his hair.

“someone,“ he murmurs into the flesh that joins your jaw and neck. “needs to teach you how to slow down. that someone, though,” a fresh hickey blooms against your skin. he pushes open his car door with the hand that isn’t gripping your shirt’s hem. “sure as hell won’t be me.”

SATURDAY 1:29 A.M.

“someone has to put you in your place.”

mark reaches up your body then, curls a hand gingerly - almost too gingerly - around your throat. he presses lightly against the sides, only enough to make you feel slightly lightheaded. he’s looking down at you directly, gaze hard, daring you to look back. you’re close but it isn’t enough - you’re on an edge, but there’s nothing else behind you, no catalyst to push you into bliss. 

his hand tightens, the other comes down to your pelvis, thumb swiping experimentally against your clit. you can’t help yourself - you tighten immediately around him, back arching slightly as both of you let out choked moans simultaneously. he swipes against your clit one more time before settling his hand against your hip, starting to rub circles into your bundle of nerves if only to feel your vice grip around his cock. you practically keen, gasping at the sheer amount of sensations your body feels. 

you’re on the edge. you’re about to fall. mark’s hips stutter against your own, and he plays with your clit even more vigorously as he cums, not bothering to pull out. he never does, anyways. the hand around your neck tightens just a bit before he lets go of your airways entirely, and the sensation of finally being able to breathe properly again does you in, your chest fully arching almost against mark’s own as you reach your own orgasm. 

it feels like an eternity until the stars are all out of your eyes, but you find yourself falling back to earth as mark finally pulls out. you’re panting, catching your breath, eyes glassy as you try and fix your gaze on him. he notices this, chuckling softly. 

mark heads to the room’s bathroom, and you hear running water for a second before he emerges with wadded up toilet paper and a wet towel. you wince, knowing he’ll use the one-ply toilet paper on you first, but also knowing that neither of you are shitty enough to leave a cum-covered hotel towel behind for the staff to find. he wipes up the mixture of yours and his cum up from between your sensitive thighs, quieting shushing you and apologizing as the scratchy toilet paper meets your still-sensitive pussy. once he’s sure it’s all cleaned up, he wipes you down with the wet towel, doing his best to soothe your skin. 

once he’s discarded the toilet paper and put the towel up, mark pulls on his boxers before gently pushing you over to get into the bed beside you. everything smells like sex, but you can’t bring yourself to be as disgusted by it as you think you should be. you move onto your side, wrapping an arm around him and throwing a leg over him, ignoring the fact that he’s like a space heater and you already feel sticky as it is. he allows his arm to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer. 

“i’m serious, you know,” he mutters after a while, sighing as he speaks. “you need to learn how to slow down. that could’ve ended very, very badly tonight… and as much as we… have our ‘differences’ or whatever, i don’t know what i’d do without you. okay? so pay more attention when you’re driving. you’re too valuable.”

there’s no response. mark shifts so he can see you, and he realizes that you’re fast asleep, bare chest rising and falling in tandem with mark’s heartbeat. you haven’t heard a word of what he’s said. a small smile graces mark’s features. 

he lets his head fall back onto the too-flat motel pillow, finding that he, too, is suddenly very tired. his eyes slip shut, sleep pulling him in as the night goes on. he pulls you closer on reflex. you allow yourself to get pulled closer in the same way. in the morning, you’ll ask him what he means by ‘you’re too valuable’. you’ve got at least six hours ‘til then. you fall asleep with a smile on your face, mirroring mark’s own.