#I had to extend her sternum for her third set of arms

[phantompeaches]

What a nice and normal drawing to post after vanishing for 2 and a half months. I'm sure there was no weird and unhinged process for figuring this pose out that entailed inventing organs that all occurred in the space of around 10 hours or anything.

[oftenderweapons]

hello 👀 first of all i love your writing. second of all idk if you saw joon’s make up artist reaching up to him to fix his makeup on set but i could think about vixen bc we all know how volatile and jealous she may get.... so may i suggest a joon x vixen jealous sex drabble??? thank u!!!

Hello, dear reader. Thank you soooo much for the compliments. I couldn’t help but deliver, it literally wrote itself. There you go 💜✨

title: yours, truly

pairing: namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

wordcount: 2.7k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship

rating: 18+, minors do not interact

synopsis: Vixen doesn't appreciate the imbalance between her belonging to Namjoon and his belonging to her, and although she understands the limits due to his job, at the same time she's uncomfortable about the way she feels. However, Namjoon is eager to reassure her.

trigger warnings: argument on jealousy and double standards. There is one very specific passage where Namjoon imposes himself physically on Vixen, grabbing her and pinning her while she's trying to get away from him. If this triggers you, please do not read further. On to sexual topics: mention of cunnilingus, masturbation (male and female receiving), unprotected sex (BE SMART!!!!!!), marking, power struggle, several occurrences of pinning and top-bottom shifts.

a/n: Hello people, here's the first of several drabbles I've been working on. Please, stay tuned cause HOPEFULLY Jimin and Princess should be next 💖

Here's my masterlist enjoy 💜✨

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You stormed into the apartment, Namjoon hot on your heels.

“Vixen,” he called, watching you take off your shoes with a frown on your face. “Babylove.”

You lifted a finger, inviting him to keep quiet before you stood and headed to your room.

“Vixen?” he called, once more. He knew what had happened, and he knew you didn't mean to act like that. He knew you didn't like feeling jealous or possessive, but the footage of him wrapping an arm around his makeup artist — even if it was just to keep her from falling — had unsettled you more than you wanted to admit.

There were women who dried his sweat and helped him change his clothes and saw him half naked regularly, and they were out there doing so publicly, while you didn't even own a picture of him kissing you. After being together for six months. After him asking you to be his wife.

To anyone except his friends and family, you were nothing but a stranger to him.

“Vixen?”

You were his. Always. All the time. You wore his clothes and had his marks on you from Monday to Sunday, twenty-four seven, uninterruptedly ever since he'd first told you he loves you — with an unintended pause because of the tour.

But what about him? Did he even belong to you?

He called your name shyly, fearsomely. “Look at me, please.”

“I'm going to take a bath,” you announced dryly.

“I'm coming with you,” he replied, already taking off his clothes.

“I want to be alone.”

He inhaled and did the crudest, most animalistic thing he could think of. He grabbed your waist and made you face him. “Vixen. Look at me.”

You shook your head and tutted.

“Say 'no' and I'll let you go,” he said, his voice booming like thunder.

You stayed silent.

“Look at me,” he repeated, an arm around your waist, his free one coming up so he could grip your chin and force your eyes to meet his. “Like this.”

“I hate this!” you spat, looking away right before he forced you to meet his eyes again. “It's not fair!” You snarled before angrily pushing the heel of your foot against his toes.

He hissed and let you go, only to catch you once more half a second later, pinning you against the wall. “Talk to me.”

Your brow furrowed, your eyes like a dark storm, you looked at the floor as you admitted, “I have no right to feel jealous. And I hate it. It’s not fair.”

Namjoon hugged you to him, kissing your head as you pressed your forehead to his chest.

“I’m so sorry, I just… hate that you make me feel like this. It’s not you, it’s how I feel about what you do. That is, the position you’re in.” You bit your lip nervously, gripping his shirt in your fists.

Namjoon didn’t quite understand what you meant by that, but reversing the situation gave him a quite poignant point of view. The idea of you being chaperoned by other men at all time, of you being in his shoes, with people drooling over you at all times, being backstage and having no privacy with or without your clothes on, people imagining you as their partner, as their hot one night stand, as their one true love.

The thought of having to share you the same way you had to share him all the time made a shiver run down his spine. He knew he would never be able to tolerate all the things you went through for him without batting an eye. “I’m so sorry, love.” He ran his hands to the back of your thighs lowering himself to pick you up, your arms latching behind his neck as he did so. “I’m so, so sorry, little fox,” he repeated, his voice so deep and soothing.

“I’m okay, it’s just that…”

He kissed your cheek as he sat on the bed, placing you on top of him, straddling his hips. “You’re not okay, and that’s alright.” He waited for you to oppose as he let his lips linger one millimeter from yours.

Shyly, almost as if reluctantly, you pressed your mouth to his, feeling his hand on your nape, tangling in your hair, the other one pressed to the small of your back. “Take off your clothes, please,” you whispered in between kisses. Unquestioningly, he took off his undershirt, your body still on top of his while you undid the buttons of your blouse — actually, only a couple of them before you slipped it off from over your head. Namjoon’s hands went around your waist, lifting the lace and satin top you were wearing underneath, pressing his nose to your sternum once your torso was so enticingly naked, your body rising to your knees so he could reach your breastbone more comfortably, your arms hugging his head.

“You’re so precious, my babylove. So strong,” he murmured, “You’re so understanding and I’m so glad when you open up to me.” He inhaled you as he confessed some more of his worries, “I always fear that someday it will feel too much and you’ll leave.”

You shook your head, squishing his face in your palms before standing before him, taking off your jeans lightning-fast, watching him quickly remove his slacks and underwear in one go.

“Come claim it, babe,” he growled, extending his hands to you, making a come-hither motion.

You wiggled out of your panties and smiled sweetly, joining him, sitting on his lap and batting your eyelashes with a cute pout, Namjoon shaking his head at you with a knowing grin. And at that, you placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed him down. “You really thought?”

He licked his lips and rolled his eyes. “I, at least, hoped.” His hands landed on your ass before you could grab his wrists and pin them above his head while you made your way up, your naked fold glistening with wetness already in the unforgivingly bright light of your bedroom.

You knew he had a thing for keeping the lights on anyways.

“Come on, sit,” he said, his arms fighting you only playfully as he ached to grab your ass and make you ride his face.

“No.” Your reply was lapidary as your free hand began to tease the skin around your sex — not yet your folds, nor your clit,

“Vixen.” Your name sounded like a warning.

“Maybe you’ll learn I can do without you.”

“Enough,” he growled before his arms escaped your weak excuse of a grip, his jaw locked and his eyes stern in what would be nothing but his hard dom look. “You think you’re funny?”

The way he pushed you with your back to the mattress, your arms trying to save you from losing your balance, made your heartbeat flutter.

“You think I don’t know that already? You think that doesn’t scare me to the bone?” He hissed as he laid on top of you, holding back his weight only slightly. “We know who can do without who here,” he said, his eyes so tormented you wanted to comfort him. “I’m half a soul without you.”

You wrapped your legs around him, rubbing your pelvis against his hardening cock. “Stay with me, then. Remind me.” You placed your lips against his neck, licking up the curve of his throat before bringing your lips to his ear. “Are you mine, Joonie?”

His eyes rolled shut, his head moving in a nodding motion. “I only want to be yours. All the time. I wish we could be naked and alone every single second.”

You giggled and moved your hand between your bodies. “Can I stretch a little? I need you inside.”

“Do you want me to do that?” He asked, right before you shook your head. “Fuck, ____, you're fucking perfect,” he murmured, kissing down your body, licking your nipple, sucking it briefly. “I'm so in love.”

“Do you remember what I told you that night?” you asked him, purring as you pushed two fingers inside you.

“That you're gonna be my wife, someday?”

You chuckled and nodded. Sometimes it felt unreal that he had proposed to you. Already.

And that the ring around your right fourth finger was not your family ring.

“I told you I'm dedicating my life to you. That I want to live by your side for as long as we can. That I believe in you.”

He found solace in the crook of your neck, his lips searching for your collarbone before his teeth nibbled at it gently. “Don't stop. Ever.”

A third finger entered your hole, stretching your inner walls until you were comfortable. Still, you were too impatient to wait any longer, grabbing his cock and placing its tip against your folds. “I won't,” you promised, a loud gasp leaving your mouth as he sank in. “Fuck, too big.”

Namjoon backtracked as quickly as possible, but your hands stopped him just in time. “No, no, stay inside, please. I can get used to it.” Your nails sunk into his ass. “Don't go. Please.”

Namjoon inhaled, trying to keep his cool as much as possible. “I should have prepped you.” He groaned and pressed your face into his neck. “Hold tight, love. I need to shift just a little.”

You loved when he pampered you like that, when he treated you like his delicate porcelain doll. With a loud exhale, he fixed his position until he could rest more easily and resist your tight squeezes as you adjusted to him filling you to the brim. In maybe a minute, you shifted your hips, whispering, “Okay, move, please.”

“That's my good girl,” he replied, smiling at you before giving one slow, smooth stroke that made you purr and throw your head back, his tongue drawing the arch of your throat. “My jealous little thing, mh? You're so adorable.” He gave another deep, slow thrust, watching you writhe below him, legs shaking as they tensed up in pleasure. And then again, pulling out and pushing in making your toes curl, your entire mind malfunctioning into bliss.

“I love it when you're jealous,” he taunted you. “Makes me feel so wanted.” He drew the shell of your ear with his lips, your body drowning in sensations, too small to handle all he had to offer. “Almost as sexy and as desirable as you are. My little fox.”

“Joonie…” you almost sobbed, clawing at his shoulders before remembering you must absolutely not, throwing your hands off him and tugging at the sheets.

Namjoon nuzzled his nose against the side of your face. “Scratch, mark, bite. I don't care. I'm yours, Vixen.”

You whimpered and forced yourself not to. Maybe you just wanted to see who would cave first, maybe you were still feeling too petty about all the times you had been denied.

“Do it. I know you want it,” he tempted you. “Take what you want, little fox.”

You shook your head and brought yourself not only to pin your hands in place, but also turn your face away.

Namjoon rammed into you aggressively at your act of defiance, causing you to gasp and flinch. “Claim me. Do it, ____. I belong to you. Won't you acknowledge that?”

Lips sealed, eyes closed, you fought him, knowing you were absolutely hopeless the moment he pulled you on top of him. “See. This is what you do to me. Look at me. Look at the mess I become for you. For you, alone. No one else in the whole world, Vixen. Only you.” He led his hand on your belly, rubbing at your clit with his thumb, letting you grind on him with your own pace. He only wanted to make you feel good. “Vixen, please, baby. Look at me.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, your hands on his pectorals, your hips moving on him so naturally, so comfortably. He looked beautiful. Grandiose. Magnificent.

He looked like the only man you would ever look at. You knew there was no way you would look at anyone else if he was in the room.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked fondly, placing his hand atop of yours, lacing your fingers together.

“That you're the only one for me. That I need something of you that belongs to me alone.”

He shifted your hands slightly, his engulfing your own on top of his beating heart. “Here. Yours. All yours. Take it.”

You started going faster, needing for the messy ordeal to come to an end so you could sleep the afternoon away wrapped up in his arms.

With quick swivels of your hips, you changed your angle, making sure that he rubbed against your sweet spot, deep inside you.

“Guess what else is yours?” he teased, looking down, keeping his finger steady against your sensitive nub.

“Your exceedingly large dick?” you suggested with a gleam in your voice, sending the both of you into a tumble of laughs.

“Exactly,” he replied playfully. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” you replied quickly, feeling your high spiral out of control. “Cumming.”

“Let go,” he reassured you, catching you with his arm once your body collapsed, his thumb still teasing you while he started thrusting from below, making sure that your orgasm peaked and extinguished in pleasure before he finally climaxed, knowing all too well that your final squeezes would trigger his own ecstasy.

“Doesn't it feel good to cum on your favourite dick, mh?”

“My one and only,” you stated openly, watching him get increasingly worked up. “Show me who you belong to, Joon. You say you're mine? Then cum inside me.”

He shut his eyes tight. “Come on. Gimme all you've got,” you taunted him.

He grit his teeth and shook his head. He needed better leverage to go harder.

You understood that immediately. “Wanna get on top?”

He was conflicted, but in the end you found yourself with your back once more to the mattress, his cock pushing inside you so hard and fast that you were ready to start all over again if it weren't for the numbing sleepiness pulling at your mind.

“I'm yours,” he gritted out, in between strokes, like a mantra. “Get it into your pretty head that I'm yours. That I only want you. For the rest of my life,” he breathed out the final part. “I'm gonna—” and with a wildly erotic growl you felt him swell inside you before his release flowed into you, his body too sensitive to handle the high for too long.

Once he was done, there was nothing but spent, panting bodies, your hand in his hair as you helped him calm down.

“Are you feeling better, little fox?” he asked, taking your joined hands and bringing your knuckles to his lips. “If we swapped roles for a day, you the idol and I the normal person, I don't think I would be able to face it like you do.”

With your eyes closed, you waited for him to pull the two of you on your sides, your head on his chest, legs tangled together as he rubbed his feet against yours lazily and lasciviously.

“I know you don't like feeling jealous and I'm sorry that I made you feel that. You always say it's part of my job and you're understanding, but we both know it's hard to stop these emotions from happening.”

You nodded, inhaling his scent, so deeply mixed with yours. “It's worth it though. Because of the man you are, and what you mean to me.”

He kissed your head.

“I need to clean up. I want to sleep with you.”

He nodded. You were both more than happy to cancel the date and just sleep in, wrapped up in light sheets on the late September day.

Once washed and ready for sleep, Namjoon found your perfect position, your right hand in his left one as he toyed with your ring, pushing it around. Even though he had proposed, he knew the wait would be long. Still, he tried. “How much time left?” he asked, the question a cliché between the two of you by now. You always knew what it meant to him.

“A while,” you replied — your usual answer.

He nodded and pulled you closer. “Sleep tight, baby fox.”

“Sleep tight, big bear.”

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Otherworldly Lovin’

Pairing: Alien Taehyung and Human Reader

Word Count: 6,319

Genre/Rating: NSFW - Alien AU - Friends to Lovers AU - Smut - PWP - Fluff - Rated R

Overview: Not only did he crash land into your yard, but he also crashed right into your heart...among other places.

Warning: oh boy. Alien sex - masturbation - tentacles - light bondage(?) - throat fucking - breast and nipple play - oral sex (fem and tentacle receiving) - Taehyung has the ability to extend his tongue - size kink - Taehyung can change his dick to any size - there’s slime from said tentacles - multiple orgasms - multiple penetration - breeding kink - cream pie - tiddie fucking(it’s a tentacle mushed between boobs having the time of its life if that counts?) - unrealistic sex - hentai, it’s basically hentai - swearing - dirty talk - maybe some sub (fem) and dom (Tae) undertones if you squint - cum play - talk of pregnancy.

Main Master List:

Wish Upon a Star Collaboration Master List

Tagging: @thedarkwinterrose​​ @thatlongspringnight​ @ggukcangetit​ @ezralia-writes​ @hidinginmycupboard @ifntelyinspirit​

©thatmultifandomhoe 2021. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The breeze felt like chilly kisses along your skin during the late-night walk home. It had been fun to see your friends, but as the house party grew in numbers and space became limited, that was your cue to head out before there had been a visit from the men in blue to break it up.  It wasn’t Cara’s first time throwing a party that climbed into the triple digits, and despite being on a first name basis with law enforcement in regards to her wild parties, it wouldn’t be her last party.

Kicking at the gravel, you gathered up the hair off the back of your neck with both hands, leaning back your head to look up at the night sky while still walking. The stars were bright, brighter than diamonds, and not for the first time you found yourself grateful that you had made the decision to move to the outskirts of Arizona. Was it hot? Of course. Were people behind the wheel absolutely insane? Fuck yes. Was it risky living on your own, in the desert, in an area where crime was going up again? Extremely. Maybe it was childish and stupid, but between the sunsets and mother nature’s natural landscape, it was all worth it in your eyes.

By the time you reached the front door, you barely glanced at the ten-foot ditch that was only a few feet from the side of your house as you went inside. The ditch hadn’t always been there, and as you turned the three set of locks behind you, a cooling sensation wrapped around your calf to begin its ascent up your bare leg.

“How was the party?” it asked.

You raised an eyebrow, unphased with having a conversation with the green blob.

“Alright,” you said, holding out a hand for it to jump on to like it usually did. This time, it simply shook its little nub of a head. “I mean, it was nice to hang out with her and have a few drinks, but her house filled up fast.”

“And it’s not good for humans to be surrounded by so many people?”

The corner of your mouth lifted as you walked to the kitchen, feeling him climb up to your knee this time. “I mean, it can be dangerous when there are over a hundred people partying in a small house while intoxicated, a lot of people don’t care though.”

“But you care.”

“I do.”

Opening the cabinet, you pulled out a glass and went to the water cooler to fill it up, dropping in a few ice cubes for that extra chill, trying not to think about how cooling and enticing it felt to have the little alien crawling up your bare leg, nearly reaching your thigh. He was a slow mover but he got around.

It was this little green blob, no taller than a hand, who had been the one to create that lovely ditch in your yard, and had succeeded in scaring the absolute shit out of you at four in the morning when it happened. The last thing you ever expected in the world was for aliens to be real – yes, you had been one of the many who was a non-believer – but Taehyung had been the one to convert you quite quickly.

“You don’t look like an alien,” you said, watching as the green, see-through blob slid around on the kitchen table.

“And what does an alien look like?” it asked.

“A crap ton taller,” you immediately answered, rubbing your eyes to try and see just how it was able to talk, let alone have a voice. You could see the wooden chair that was behind it, and there was nothing inside of it. It was just a blob about the size of a softball, from space.

Apparently, that offended the creature, as it suddenly formed two small nubs – what you assumed to be arms, which were promptly placed on its side - and a nub on top for its head. “Excuse me, I don’t know what it’s like here, but where I come from, it’s extremely rude to point out someone’s size. And I’ll have you know; On my home planet I am quite larger than this.”

You blinked.

Maybe it was because you were still wondering if you were insane to be talking to a green blob claiming to be an alien, but a sudden pang went through your chest at having hurt the little guy. Sighing, your footsteps papped against the tile floor as you pulled out one of the chairs at the table to sit down.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, leaning your cheek in the palm of your left hand to look at it. “You’re right, it was rude of me. Let’s start over. What’s your name?”

It stared up at you. At least, you assumed it was as it turned its body to face you. For a moment, the green blob stood there until finally taking a few steps towards you.

“Taehyung.”

These last few months had been an unforgettable experience, but it would be a lie to say that it hadn’t made life more interesting. The ship he had been flying in was a small metal contraption that could have easily been mistaken as a toy drone. At his request, you had brought it in the house that next morning, and after inspecting it, Taehyung announced it to be completely damaged, but not unfixable. Since then, there had been several times where you stumbled upon him trying to form the arms that he needed to try to patch it up himself, but the crash had forced him into his smaller form for protection, and made it impossible to expand himself the way he needed to.

Only a few days into his stay, you learned that his people – the Flubbers – were similar to that in regards to human height and features. Unlike measly humans, they were able to turn their bodies into this green blob at will, but mostly it was used as a defensive measure to protect themselves or when they were traveling in their small ships. As a result of the crash, Taehyung had trouble returning back to his regular form and with nowhere else to go, he became your new roommate.

But as he began to crawl underneath the fabric of your shorts, the coolness of his body was enticing in more ways than one. Your breath turned shaky as you hurried to reach down and remove him from your thigh.

“How was your night?” You suddenly asked, not wanting him to question why you removed him.

He tilted his body, but settled down in your palms. “I watched more of those shows on your Netflix account.”

“Which ones?”

“Black Butler.”

You gasped, narrowing your eyes at him as you carried him back to your room. “Come on, we were supposed to finish that together.”

“But you were gone, and I wanted to watch it,” Taehyung only remained still for a few more seconds before stretching out himself to begin crawling up your arm.

It was perhaps the weirdest sensation in the world, but it reminded you of the end result of making slime when you were back in college and your roommates dragged you out to the craft events put on by campus. Taehyung was sturdier, more solid, and less gooey. Okay, he wasn’t gooey at all. But as he crawled his way around your arm and shoulder, you were suddenly awfully aware of the fact that you were only wearing a skimpy black tank top with spaghetti straps, allowing him to feel every inch and curve of your body and soak in your body heat. He was naturally cool but he usually warmed up after crawling on your arm for a while.

The fact that he was crawling up to you wasn’t unusual. Tonight however, it was like he was attached to your body and trying to feel every single part of you.

“That’s not nice,” you murmured, shakily inhaling as he slid a tendril-like arm across your neck, his body slinking across your chest. You kicked off your shoes and glanced at your reflection in the full-length mirror. Cheeks flushed, throat bobbing as you swallowed, and you could see that he was forming another limb, stretching it out to wrap around your bicep.

“You said I could watch whatever I wanted. And I wanted to watch Black Butler.” Taehyung said.

In the mirror, you could see his small head glance down, his body suddenly pausing at the discovery that there was something underneath your shirt. He was an alien. Since his arrival, you made sure to get dressed in the bathroom so that he didn’t see certain things.

In addition to that, you hadn’t been entirely sure if he slept or not, so you had created a small bed for him on the floor of your bedroom out of a box you had and thrown in a bunch of soft towels to make it comfortable for him. He seemed to enjoy it since he slid to his bed every night, even tucking himself underneath some of the towels. So not only had you been sharing a room with an alien, but these last few months had been incredibly, touch starving, especially since you were single. It wasn’t like you could suddenly make yourself feel good when Taehyung was right there and would probably ask what you were doing and why.

And now…now you were feeling incredibly horny.

You watched him create another limb, only to close your eyes to feel it softly slide down your sternum, heart racing as it followed the curve of your breast, your pussy clenching around nothing. A second – or was it a third? Maybe a fourth? - limb slipped underneath the shirt to encircle your other breast, but this one was more curious, feeling the size and tightening around the boob when it suddenly ran over your nipple. You stumbled back against the foot-board of the bed until you sat on it, accidentally pressing yourself against the frame and hitting your clit, resulting in an audible gasp.

His limbs suddenly retracted at the sound and before you could stop yourself, you whined at the loss of them only to realize what you had done. He was an alien. You were a human.

“Did I hurt you?” Taehyung asked.

You shook your head, opening your eyes to remove him from where he had wrapped himself around your neck and set him on the bed. Not once did you glance at the mirror, already knowing how flustered you looked. “No, I’m fine.”

“Then what was that sound?”

Damn him for being so curious. “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you go to bed? I’m going to get dressed.”

Before he could ask another question, you grabbed the spare bed and hurried to the bathroom, taking several deep breaths when certain that you were, in-fact, alone. Not once during these last few months had he touched you like that, and now that he had, you found yourself craving more. It reminded you too much of those hentai videos you occasional stumbled upon while on the hub, and as you hurriedly kicked off your shorts to slip your own hand underneath your panties, you softly moaned when you felt how wet your panties were.

He had created those limbs like it was nothing. Easily curling and wrapping himself around you like second nature, and as you ran your own finger over your clit to take care of yourself, you couldn’t help but imagine what he would have done had you let him crawl up your shorts like he had started to do. Taehyung typically kept himself in the shape of a blob, but you were certain that he would have no issue in filling you up completely.

You pressed yourself further against the wall, another soft moan escaping you. Eyes closed, you were so focused on getting off, that you missed how underneath the doorway, a flat green blob slid its way underneath the door. A limb shaped itself, watching your general direction like it was absorbing your reactions, only to disappear the same way it came when you were satisfied.

A few nights later, you sighed as you shifted under the blankets once again. The fan had done its job and made the bedroom chilly, but you still couldn’t fall asleep. You tried warm milk, listening to instrumental music, counting sheep. Nothing seemed to work.

“You’re not sleeping?” Taehyung asked.

You glanced at the box on the floor, seeing his towels shift as he moved around. He hadn’t spoken about what happened the other night and neither had you, and for that, you were grateful. He was a friend. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin the only friendship he had while he stayed until his ship was fixed.

“Just having a hard time,” you softly answered.

He was quiet for a moment. “Would you like to talk about it?”

A soft chuckle slipped out of your lips and you rolled over, holding a hand out over the edge. In seconds he was wrapping himself around the limb and crawling on to the empty space next to you.

“Do you miss it?” You asked, slipping an arm underneath your head. “Your home? Your friends and family must miss you a lot.”

“Parts of it,” Taehyung admitted. For being a small green blob – or a small green Flubber – he had a deep baritone voice, and when he spoke softly, there was a calming effect that washed over you. It was the type of voice that not only promised protection, but had the power to be absolutely sinful. “There’s my family and friends that I do miss, but it was a strict place. We’re not a species that was intended to survive you see. A long time ago, the very first of my kind had been created here on your planet by someone…a doctor Jacob, Philip, or Robin, someone at least made a mistake, and from that the first Flubber was born. Over the decades we’ve evolved and managed to repopulate ourselves, but even I can’t remember how we managed to leave this planet and end up on our own. Some poor Flubber had probably been somewhere he shouldn’t have been.”

He shifted and for some reason, if he had facial features right at that moment, you could imagine him lifting an eyebrow with the smallest of smirks. “That’s why our society is strict. We were a mistake yes, but we quite like being alive and would rather keep it that way Flubbers are expected to do as they’re told and I wanted to explore. To see other worlds and galaxies. Granted, crash landing in your back yard was not at all part of the plan, or ruining my ship, but things have had an unexpected way of working out. After all, I did go off in search of the unexpected.”

Gently smiling at him, you nodded in agreement, wetting your lips. “Do you think you’ll go back? Once you fix your ship and explore for a while?”

“Good question. Maybe. I’m not entirely sure. The human race is, well…you people are certainly the most complex creatures I have ever met. I could spend a century here and still be trying to understand everything.”

You rolled on to your back with a laugh, feeling him slide his way up onto your stomach, the sensation sending shivers running through your body since the night shirt rose up at some point. Glancing down, Taehyung stretched a limb out, running it along your waist.

“Humans are very complex,” Taehyung repeated, his voice turning husky as if this was affecting him as well. “Complex, but perhaps, the most fascinating of all creatures to exist.”

No words came from you. Once again, your breath was stuck as he extended his other limb and you watched it crawl its way underneath the shirt, this time rubbing itself right over the nipple. Like he had memorized your reaction to it last time. You shakily gasped again, but you didn’t stop him. You could barely think, unable to look away as his body shifted, expanding itself to a larger version of himself.

“I’ve been practicing to regain my normal form,” he said. “It’s been hard, but I believe I can finally go back and stay in it permanently again.”

The two short nubs he had for legs elongated and thickened with his body. No longer was he a small blob, but he was taking on a new shape. One that was leaner, taller than you, and for the first time, he was gaining features that individualized him. The more he changed, the less green and see through he was. Instead, it turned into a very dark green tint on sun kissed skin, with dark brown eyes delicately painted with streaks of green. Looking down at you - like you imagined - a smirk had found its way home on his face while at the same time, a thumb harshly squeezed and rubbed against your nipple again. You moaned and leaned back into the pillow, wanting him, wanting more.

“Like I said before, us Flubbers are very similar to you humans, only we have…something extra.”

“And what’s that?” You forced out; eyes closed as another moan slipped out when his hands grabbed both breasts. He didn’t need to answer though, because as he played with your chest, something wrapped around your leg. It was similar to his limbs that he normally curled along your body, just as cool and thick to the touch. The thing making its way up your thigh was nearly forgotten about when Taehyung suddenly yanked off the shirt you were wearing, not wasting a second to kiss and suck at your breasts.

Chest heaving, it was impossible to think straight. Parts of your body had chills running across them while others felt hotter than the desert. He wasn’t letting up. Once satisfied, Taehyung gave his complete attention to the other, determined to leave behind a purple and wet path of where he had been. Every now and then there was sharp pain, but he was quick to quiet your whimpers by running his tongue over the marks and leaving a sweet kiss. The thing that had been crawling along your leg was at mid-thigh when it tightened, drawing your attention to its existence when suddenly, something else was sliding inside of your shorts.

Your eyes immediately opened and when you looked down, common sense went out the window as you swallowed the saliva building up in your mouth, pussy clenching. The limbs that you were used to seeing were back. One was coming out of the middle of Taehyung’s back, another appeared to be coming from his side, and as you watched, two more were forming and extending themselves. Unlike the rest of his form, they were completely green, nearly see through.

“We call them Extenders,” Taehyung murmured as he left thick kisses on your skin. “Extra limbs to help carry items and with everyday tasks.”

He lifted his head, eyes searching yours as his eyebrow quirked at you. “But I believe the term that you’re more with, is, tentacles.”

Oh. Oh, you were absolutely fucked.

A soft whimper slipped out when the tentacle that had been sneaking its way underneath your shorts purposely rubbed hard over your underwear. Taehyung must have heard it because his grin widened, and his Extenders were moving your legs to cage him against you.

“Usually I’m not like this,” he continued. “I think my body is still adjusting to this planet but thinks I’m back home. During this time of year, this is normally our season when we mate. That’s something you humans don’t have here, do you?”

Despite how much you wanted the tentacle to slip underneath the underwear, it stayed right where it was, content with teasing you. “We do that whenever we want,” you finally answered. Your gaze met Taehyung’s just in time to see his eyes light up in curiosity.

“Really?”

An ache was growing the longer you remained empty, and if the Extender underneath your shorts continued rubbing the way it was, you weren’t going to be lasting much longer. So, without caring about the consequences, you cupped Taehyung’s face and kissed him deeply. The sudden action allowed the tentacles around your legs to loosen just enough for you to wrap them around his hips, pulling him closer to you. Something thick pressed against your pussy, much larger than the other Extenders growing out of him, made both of you groan at the sudden pressure.

“Mate me,” you breathed out in-between kisses. His form was solid like a human, and his hair was soft when you ran your fingers through the locks. “Please Taehyung, please mate with me. I’m begging you.”

For a moment, Taehyung just stared down at you. Even the tentacles that had been sliding along your body paused at your words. It only lasted for that one moment. The corner of his lips curled upwards and the green streaks in his eyes darkened before he kissed you again, pressing himself completely against you.

Taehyung’s normal form may have appeared human, and besides the tentacles that moved on their own and were currently crawling their way up your sides and arms, it seemed that he was able to extend not just them, but every part of his body. The kiss was a frenzy from the start, and when the tentacle finally slipped underneath the underwear like you wanted and began to rub your clit earnestly, butterflies swarmed as your lower belly tightened, the orgasm that had been building was now forced from you.

He abruptly broke the kiss and pushed himself up, his hungry gaze running down the length of your body as you gasped in the fresh air. There was no break for you because he ripped away the remaining clothing and threw your legs over his shoulder to lick at your pussy. You lost track of how many tentacles were wrapping along your body, barely noticing that it wasn’t Taehyung holding you open as he ate like a starved man. Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes from over-stimulation, but when he suckled at your clit and something long entered your pussy, you cried out in pleasure at finally being filled. It was different from the tentacles caressing your body, more tapered and thinner, and when your walls squeezed around it, Taehyung groaned and every vibration sent your nerves into overdrive.

Glancing down at him, you realized that what was inside you was not another tentacle. There were two green Extenders holding your legs in place, and one currently held your wrists together bound above your head as numbers four and five slid along your body. One of them curled around your chest, leaving behind a slippery green slime in its path that felt cool to the touch as the other made its way closer to your face. You dropped your head back down on the pillow and tried to lift your hips to grind against Taehyung’s face, but a harsh suck made you gasp and stop all movement.

The tentacle reached your face, lazily poking your cheek until you rewarded it with undivided attention. Its movements were gentle as it traced the shape of your lips, the slime it left behind smearing across your face elicited a moan from the alien that was on the receiving end of you being turned on. This was one wet dream that you had never thought would become a reality, and now that it was happening, you didn’t want it to stop. Relaxing against the bed, you wet your lips out of habit before opening your mouth. Like you hoped, the tentacle went in to inspect this new place.

It was slippery as you ran your tongue against the tentacle, discovering it had some weight to it, and the slime that it oozed was sweet like the honey you used in teas. Out of curiosity you swallowed around the limb. A strangled groan came from Taehyung, and it twitched within its confines but didn’t try to remove itself. The more you sucked, the more it appeared to lubricate itself, forcing you to alternate every so often.

“Fucking hell,” Taehyung moaned. Sitting on his knees, he gazed down at you with eyes dark enough to appear black, those green streaks bright enough to glow in the dark. He was finally able to see what his tentacles had gotten themselves up to while he had been busy having his own meal, his chin wet as his tongue shrunk back to normal size.

Taehyung stared at you as the tentacle went further in your mouth, his chest heaving when you relaxed yourself to take it even further. All of the tentacles tightened at your actions, but his gaze went to your chest where one Extender had succeeded in wrapping itself around your breasts to squeeze them together and was currently rubbing itself between the small space, creating a slippery mess that made your skin tingle until it was numb.

“Look at you,” Tae murmured, lowering himself back down to your lower half. “You’re a mess darling.” He kissed your hip sweetly, quite the contradiction to everything else as one of his tentacles was in the midst of thrusting itself down your throat. Butterflies fluttered when he kissed his way across your belly, following the path of slime that had been left behind until his lower half was firmly pressed against yours, his hips grinding against yours so his cock rubbed along your lips.

“An absolute, fucking mess.”

You were so used to the jokes and pleasantries from Taehyung that to hear him swear, to call you darling as he rubbed himself against you, to have him use you as he wanted, it made your head spin until there was nothing but pure desire and need on your mind. He had already gotten you to orgasm twice without cumming himself and you still felt empty. He had yet to give you what you really wanted.

He went higher, not stopping until he was leaving wet kisses on your throat. “Such a beautiful, fucking, mess, and we’re not even done. Think you can keep up with me and my friend’s darling?”

The tentacle pulled out of your mouth then, allowing you to sharply inhale as Taehyung wiped away the string of saliva connecting you to it. He was patient as you caught your breath, amusing himself by continuing his kisses up to the back of your ear. Strands of hair were plastered to your forehead and despite everything, you felt more alive than you ever had.

 “More,” you softly whispered, throat a bit sore.

Taehyung softly hummed. Palms trailed up your sides, smearing the slime all over and up on your breasts, not caring that there was a tentacle obsessed with loving them.

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for,” Taehyung taunted. There was a shift in his hips and this time, the head of his cock was now pressing against your pussy.

You tilted your head, capturing his lips in an open mouth kiss. Out of habit you tried to wrap your arms around his shoulders, but the Extenders tightened around your wrists. He didn’t even try to coax his tongue in your mouth. He slipped in with ease and you groaned when you realized that you tasted yourself on him. His hands settled on your hips and this time, to your pleasure, he pushed his cock in. The stretch stung but after finally having him in like you wanted all along, it satisfied the ache of being empty that had been growing since this all started a few nights ago.

“Fuck,” Taehyung groaned, knuckles turning white from his grip on your hips. “So different. You’re so warm.”

His cock moved but his hips remained pressed and still against yours, drawing your curiosity to look down. Taehyung had pushed himself balls deep, but you felt his dick changing within you. It was growing thicker, longer, and when he pulled back to thrust back in, you gasped as the new ridges that were along his shaft. He was accommodating himself to fit you perfectly. A one true fit that was made just for you.

The green in his eyes flashed, the tentacles still wrapped around your body tightened to hold you in place as Taehyung’s pace picked up, the ridges rubbing against your inner walls with each stroke became more prominent. You closed your eyes as you pressed back against the pillow, and when there was an eager poke at your lips, your mouth simply opened for the tentacle to slip inside. You were just as eager; the honey flavored slime was addicting to the taste. It was only when there was new wiggling pressure on your clit that you looked down, past the tentacle that was fucking your tits with a newfound passion as it tightened around them to make the space smaller, to see that there was a new Extender rubbing itself on your clit. The pressure was enough to make you moan, legs shaking even in Tae’s grip, but as you watched, it appeared that it didn’t plan to stay there very long. With every thrust from Taehyung, your pussy grew slicker, allowing this appendage to nudge its way into your pussy alongside his dick, all while still rubbing against your clit with each thrust.

Your cry was muffled, the stretch almost becoming overwhelming when more tentacles appeared to cover your body in an attempt to soothe and draw your focus away from the pain. Two more latched themselves on your nipples and by some magic he was able to shape them into mouths that pinched and sucked the same way Taehyung had done earlier. Another two appeared in the palms of your hands with similar ridges to his cock, and not wanting you to be too empty, a thinner tentacle slipped inside your mouth as well. You were completely and utterly stuffed, and had lost count of how many of them there were now with all senses on haywire as your nerves felt like lava with his every touch and yet, somehow, something was still missing.

The headboard thumped against the wall as Taehyung went faster, almost erratic as he chased his own high that he had been holding back from. In the darkness of the bedroom, a green light radiated from Taehyung and the Extenders that were wrapped around you, and when his gaze locked on yours, even his eyes took on the faintest glow. It was otherworldly. For a brief moment, everything slowed around the two of you as the tentacles in your mouth suddenly removed themselves. He swooped down to replace his lips where they had been, his kiss sweet and gentle as he cupped the back of your neck.

A chill racked through your body as the tentacles hugged your body, but your mind was focused on the softness of Taehyung’s lips, and how they made your heart flutter. For a split second, he pulled back to press his forehead against yours while murmuring a foreign word. Despite not knowing what he said, you softly hummed and brushed your nose against his, making him smile. He tried to kiss you again but kept breaking out into a smile that you found yourself unable to resist.

It was when he recaptured your lips in a kiss that the glowing grew brighter, lighting up the room completely. A tingling sensation ran through your body, the temperature skyrocketing as beads of sweat dotted along your skin. Taehyung thrusted one last time, his hips hilting against yours as he reached his release filling you with a green tinted substance that also spurted out of the tentacles, coating your body in goo. You would have been grossed out, but the cum that oozed out of his tentacles along with the slime from earlier was cooling to your feverish skin.

You moaned into the kiss, the Extenders that had curled and twisted around your arms suddenly dropped down to the pillows spent and exhausted. Now free, you were able to tangle your fingers through his hair. Neither of you cared how the goo dripped down your wrists or matted itself in his locks when he leaned down to leave several kisses on your cheek among the sweet words of endearment that he whispered along your skin. This gentle and tenderness was reminiscent of the Taehyung you had known while he was still in his blob form.

All of his Extenders had released you from their grip, simply resting themselves on your bodies before Taehyung called them back. You had gone to kiss him once more when his hips pressed further against yours, his dick still inside you as some of his cum spilled out from around him and down your thigh.

“Shit,” Taehyung murmured, glancing down at where the two of you were still connected.

You softly chuckled. “Is mating season usually this messy?”

He looked back up at you, a boxy smile appearing. “Sorry about that. It’s meant to ensure a successful mating, which entails with the female being pregnant by the end of the season. But it’s never been this pleasurable before.”

Even though you had never met a female Flubber in your life, a sense of pride flashed through you. You weren’t his first apparently, but you were the first to make it feel good at least. “Does that mean you have kids back home?”

“No,” he shifted his weight, lifting an arm to shove his fingers through his hair and off his forehead. “I had only come of age five winters ago, and it’s expected that Flubbers who participate for the first time are not likely to have a successful mating. This would have been my sixth attempt.”

“Sixth attempt?” You asked, leaning your head back against the pillow.

Taehyung carefully sat up. He was mindful this time of his dick keeping his cum inside you, the last thing he wanted to do was risk losing another drop. “When there is a successful mating, the two Flubbers then join in unity until their deaths. If they can produce children the first time, then they’ll be able to have another successful pregnancy next season.”

“So, if I get pregnant, you’ll stay?”

The room fell silent. The glow that had been emanating from Taehyung dimmed now that he was no longer caught up in the moment of his orgasm, but you could still see the way he pressed his lips together. One of the tentacles curled around your arm once more, slightly squeezing you in a gentle manner that reminded you of a hug.

You didn’t want Taehyung to go. Even before tonight, you had enjoyed his company greatly, and if he were to leave, who were you going to finish watching Black Butler with? There wouldn’t be anyone who would spend hours asking about what it was like to be human, who offered help around the house, or would tell you stories about what it was like where he was from. Even going to bed wouldn’t be the same without his check ins, wondering if you had enough blankets, a glass of water on the nightstand, and not so casually reminding you that if you scrolled through your phone until three in the morning again, you’d be cranky when having to go to work the next day.

It wouldn’t be home without Taehyung.

“Actually…” his fingers dug into the fleshy bits of your thighs, his thumb moving in circles as it rubbed some of his cum into the skin. “I was hoping that I could stay. Even if you never got pregnant. If…if that’s okay with you of course.”

Not able to really move, you stroked the length of one of the tentacles still on you, watching Taehyung’s body shiver at the touch. “Nothing would make me happier than that Tae.”

His thumb stopped moving, the green streaks in his eyes once again brightening as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. The Extenders came back to life then, each one slipping underneath your body in a tight hug as Taehyung lifted you off the bed when he stood. Your legs squeezed his waist but he merely laughed.

“What are you doing?” You asked when he carried you to the bathroom. With the help of one of his tentacles, the light flickered on.

He lightly nipped at your collarbone. “If you hadn’t noticed yet darling, I am still lodged inside you, and we are covered in various liquids. We are in desperate need of cleaning ourselves.”

Glancing in the mirror behind Taehyung, you were finally able to see the result of tonight’s love fest. The slime had left a clear green tint that had dried down to your skin, and the release of his cum had even gotten in your hair. Tae had not been lucky either and was fairly covered in the goo himself.

“Besides,” he murmured, recapturing your attention as the water from the shower head suddenly turned on. You however, were focused on the way his eyes darkened and his smile curled into a sneaky grin that sent your heart racing. “Like I said earlier, my body is still adjusting and thinks that it’s mating season here. This is not a one-night occurrence my darling.”

One of his tentacles roamed over your chest, paying particular attention to your breasts as Taehyung stepped into the shower, the hot water only seeming to help his Extenders in their movements. At least with a shower, the result of this round of love making would be easier to clean than your stained and ruined bed sheets.

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

When it all falls down

Guys! I have 69 followers and I couldn’t be happier! Here’s the next chapter of ‘When it all falls down’ and I hope you enjoy it! There are some inspiration links to things I’ve described if you need visual images

Ao3

Story Masterlist

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CHAPTER ONE: Everything I never wanted

The ballroom was lit with torches and shimmering crystal chandeliers. A buffet table lined one wall and the other held a stage with an orchestra. The doors were wide open but only a select few were invited. Those that chose to dance did so with ridged backs, like an invisible knife would stab them at a single misstep. Nobles gathered at tables conversing, smiles plastered onto their painted faces.

Guards dressed in dark navy and dyed leather lined each window and entry. They stood, watching the crowd, surrounding them, prepared and ready. It was dark out, the glass panes showed the opaque inky night.

“The king has yet to arrive to his own party.”

The man next to her snapped his head in her directions, eyes narrowing and his goblet brought up to his pursed lips for a sip. Swallowing, he cleared his throat, “You of all people should know that the king is dead.”

She turned away from the dazzling reception and sent him a smirk. “And you should know that I don’t believe lies.”

Before he could reply, two hands clasped his and the bride’s shoulders, his mothers head appeared between them. “Go dance!” She hissed, pushing them towards the stiffly dancing nobles.

Damian looked at Marinette who shrugged. As husband and wife they walked arm-in-arm to the dance floor, guests scrambled out of their way, an empty space was left for the couple. The two separated and turned to face each other with a bow. Mari picked up her skirts as she strutted, they both circled to their right slowly then to their left until they returned to their starting positions. Damian extended his hand and Marinette, with her free hand accepted it. The two closed the circle until they were standing palm to palm.

Now up close they could better view their partner in dance and life. The prince wore a black kurta pajama with a wrapped button neckline and gold embroidery. The kurta’s buttons were made of diamonds and it’s squared hemline stopped mid-thigh to reveal he wore white cotton pants underneath. His belt consisted of solid gold ovals, embedded with obsidian, opals and an emerald in each centre. A golden crown with another emerald rested on his forehead, it’s intricate moulding wrapped around his skull and the centre piece pointed downwards.

Marinette remembered her tutors teaching her about the Empire. The opals and obsidian represents a new era of the kingdom, it was the royal families signature colours. This was reinforced by their clothes only being at the extremes of the shade spectrum. And at birth each member is given a specific stone to represent their life and role within the kingdom. Lady Talia’s was Tiger’s Eye (quite fitting), and it seems that Damian was blessed with Emerald.

Marinette was dressed similarly to Damian. She wore her own familial colours, like Damian’s birth jewel, Marinette was given her own sigil. When she entered the order and rose through the rank, the elder guardians awarded her with the Ladybug mantle. Her wedding garb (along with all her other clothes) consisted of hues of red and black. Her cheongsam was sleeveless and it’s neck was high. At the nape of the neckline, similar to that of a cape, a translucent blue material stitched with shimmering silver threads trailed down her back. It fluttered as she moved, making her presence look ethereal and that of an Angel.

The main body of the dress was a deep red silk, that hugged her curves and the skirt slowly transitioned to black. The gradient was further detailed with small beads of sparkling black gemstones. It’s petticoat was made of the same translucent blue material and could be seen from a high slit. In the bodice of the dress there was another slit that went down her sternum, the skin of her chest peeking through on occasion.

Her waist length hair usually hung freely down her back unless she was in training, was now tied into a bun by multiple braids. Silver hairpins held the do together and they were inscribed with incantations of protection and luck. Although she was the Miraculous Order’s princess she didn’t wear the headdress they had given her, she felt as though she didn’t deserve it.

Two steps, two steps. Her skirts swished with movement, the noise of the clicking beads filled her ears. The two were the focus of the entire party, as it should be due to the fact that this was their wedding reception. The violins high pitched cry signified the climax of their dance, Damian held his arm out and spun her before drawing her back into his embrace. This dance, much like their marriage was nothing more than an obligation to their clans.

As the music died down, the young couple were ushered into their new living quarters. The room was moderately sized and minimalistic style of furnishing, coloured a deep blue with gold trimming. Other than the front door, there were 3 others leading out of the room. The first being next to a curtained window, it lead to a balcony with granite carved railings. The second lead to the bathroom and the third linked another smaller bed room to theirs. When the couple discovered the smaller room they were confused, but Lady Talia quickly provided an explanation.

The connected room was for their future heirs.

The newlyweds froze at the older woman’s declaration. They struggled to process the depth of her words. Oblivious to the awkward atmosphere she created she swept up her skirts and pranced out of the room, leaving two sets of eyes trailing her figure.

They distracted themselves by unpacking the trunks containing their belongings, neither had much. This was because of being constantly on the move (Marinette) or not being allowed to have materialistic pleasures (Damian). Blue eyes avoided green and vice versa. Once complete they prepared for slumber, but there was one issue to be addressed... the consummation of the marriage.

Tremors shook Damian’s hands at the realisation of what was expected of him. She saw his shaking form, the elders had always complimented her observant nature. He hid his distress poorly. “I can sleep in the other room if that would make you more comfortable my prince.” Her soft voice was sincere and free from any jest that it held from earlier this evening.

He looked towards her, his exterior hardening, protecting himself against this stranger. “No.” He gruffly replied, “I’ll take the other room.” A smaller room meant less places for enemies to hide. Yes the smaller room would fit him better.

He turned towards the door but her statement halted his movements. “I do not wish to tie you down with these bonds of matrimony. As long as no harm comes to the Order or I, you can do as you please.”

He made no move to turn, only shifting his head to stare back at the small figure that sat upon the too large bed. “Why are you offering this?”

She couldn’t provide him with anything more than a small smile, upon closer inspection sadness was clearly evident within her eyes. “If we cannot marry for love then we should at least marry someone we do not hate.” She said before laying underneath the blankets, her eyes fluttering shut as her head hit the pillow.

For a moment he stayed there, standing; but eventually he made his way into the conjoining room and bedding down for the night. If he had stayed living with his mother he probably would have deemed her as weak and insufficient to be his bride as soon as she joined him at the altar. But his time with his father and siblings had shattered that perspective. Her words repeated within his mind, ‘If we cannot marry for love then we should at least marry someone we do not hate.’ There surely was a hidden meaning but Damian was too exhausted from the day’s events to scrutinise. If that is her wish then he would gladly accommodate it.

Taglist:

@thesunniestdays @jayjayspixiepop @toodaloo-kangaroo

[mandilflorian]

Laws of Motion

Marcus Moreno x Reader (fem)

Rating: +18 (minors do NOT interact)

warnings: light smut, dry humping/making out, egregious physics jokes, if i’m missing anything i’m sorry!

word count: 1.8k

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! My resolution is to write more and I’m happy to kick off the new year with a smutty little marcus one shot! I haven’t posted fic in a long time and I apologize if my grammar is off. I have a basic understanding of physics lol so if it’s not accurate then I also apologize for that. I hope you all had a happy holidays. Enjoy!

• • •

Marcus Moreno had been on you all day. A lingering touch as you exchange files and cups of coffee to each other at the office. A hand on the small of your back as he passes you by in a hallway with more than enough space for two people to walk. It’s deliberate. You’ve been craving his touch for a few weeks now. Both too busy with work to truly feel each other. The want has been building and you might just combust if you wait another moment to have him.

He stops by your office during your lunch break, sitting on the edge and playing with the Newton’s Cradle on your desk. Stopping the motion of the cradle in it tracks before gently lifting a finger of one side and allowing it to fall, continuing its demonstration. You watch his ministration while sipping on your coffee, lost in the thought of his hands working you in similar ways. He can read you very well, and he takes note of your distracted state.

“Did you know,” he interrupts your thought and you look to find him staring into your eyes with a glare you can’t quite read. “By lifting one side, you are creating potential energy. And when you release it-“ He releases the ball and the cradle begins its demonstration again, all while keeping his eyes locked on you. “It converts to kinetic energy and transfers that energy to each ball until it gains the momentum to propel the last one forward. And the cycle repeats. Creating a seemingly infinite motion.”

You hide your smile behind your hand, trying to hold your giggling from him. He is prone to scientific tangents and you are in constant fascination with the Heroic, but the simplicity of this is just too cute. “Marcus, I am well aware of the mechanisms of a Newton’s Cradle.”

He drops his hand into his lap and fiddles with a loose thread from his jeans as you set your coffee mug down next to him. Before you’re able to move your hand away he quickly takes it into his and intertwines them.

You look back into his eyes to find them dark and serious. What you couldn’t read before, becomes abundantly clear. He wants you. While the direction of the conversation only serves to confuse you, Marcus continues.

“Maybe we should turn our potential energy,” he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “into something kinetic.”

The contact sends a jolt to your hand and up your arm. Your chest tightens until you realize what he just said. It’s a moment of silence before it’s filled with your laughter. Loud and booming through your office as you try and fail to contain yourself. Marcus drops your hand and stands next to you. “Alright, Geez. It was corny, I get it.” He pats your back as you wipe the tears pricking your sight.

“I’m- I- Oh my god, Marcus, I’m so sorry- I can’t- I- Did you just u-use a physics pick-up line on me?” You hold your palm to your chest, taking a deep breath and letting a few giggles escape.

“Yeah, Yeah I get it. I was trying to be romantic.” He shakes his head and adjusts his glasses. You stand and wrap your arms around his waist. “Baby, I love you, but that was a little too cheesy to be sexy.” You tell him as you rub between the planes of his shoulders.

“Hmm.” He grunts and pushes his tongue against his cheek. “Guess it just needs a little momentum.” He smiles down at you and you raise your brow.

“Was that another pick-up line?” You grin up at him and he meets you with a kiss, pulling away reluctantly and walking toward your office door.

“I’ll see you after work, baby.”

• • •

Finally, you’ve found yourselves back at Marcus’s house. Your relationship wasn’t new by any means. It wasn’t a secret, but you were still being slowly introduced to The Moreno’s family dynamic. You didn’t want to freak Missy out, so you both kept any and all public displays of affection to a minimum. This, mixed with your busy schedules, has left you both high and dry. Tonight, however, Missy was attending a sleepover with her new friends, which gave you the perfect opportunity to be intimate.

You’re barely through the door before Marcus has you pressed against it, pulling you against his chest and pushing against your hips with his own. You wrap your arms around his neck and card your hands through his hair as his tongue glides along your lower lip. He sucks on it and releases it with a graze of his teeth, drawing a moan from you. He grins, knowing he has you in the palm of his hands. Growing impatient with his teasing, you grip the curls by the nape of his neck, dragging him back to your lips. Your faces meeting in a clash of lips and teeth, and your noses pressed to the other’s cheek. His glasses push at an odd angle against his forehead and you take a moment to lift them and set them aside, safely.

“Couch?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

He turns you around and guides you backwards, his lips attached to your neck as your knees meet the cushions and you fall into a tangle of limbs, only separating long enough for you to kick your heels off, pull your pants down and toss them over the side of the couch while he shucks off his leather jacket.

Marcus grips your thighs and pulls you so you fall, unceremoniously, straddling his lap. The zipper of his jeans rubbing deliciously against your clit through your panties. You move at a steady rhythm against each other for a few minutes and he groans beneath you, feeling his cock harden through his jeans.

One particular thrust catches on your sensitive nub and you throw your head back. Marcus takes you in with lust-blown, nearly black eyes. He clenches his jaw, baring his teeth. He wraps his leg around the back of one of your knees and pulls on your hips, flipping you over and onto your back. He then pins you hands above your head and pauses to study you.

His show of strength has you clenching your thighs to ease the loss of pressure from changing positions. “Baby? Why’d you stop?” You try to grind against him, but he takes one of his hands from above your head to pin your waist to the couch.

“Have you heard of Newton’s Laws of Motion?”

You give him a curious look. What is going on with him today? “Marcus, we are in the middle of something a little more important, so it’s kind of hard to remember-“

Marcus moves a strand of your hair behind your ear and leans in to whisper. “Sweetheart, when i’m done, you’ll be reciting them.” The feel of his lips along your neck is the olive branch he extends from your brief disruption.

He grinds against you with a slow and steady pace. Not quite enough pressure, but at least you’re moving. “The first law states that a body in motion stays in motion, and a body at rest-‘ he stills your hips and you whine at the loss of friction. “will stay at rest unless a force acts upon it.” He releases your hands and you tug on his belt loops in protest as he begins to move again to your relief. He grabs your hips and holds your center against his thigh, applying a little more pressure, but still keeping that slow rhythm.

“This brings us to our second law. The acceleration of an object is dependent on force and mass. Try to move against me.” You rid yourself of your lustful daze long enough to listen. You try to grind up into him. You’re barely able to move him, much less yourself. “Not quite.” He tuts. “I am the mass. You have to generate enough force to move me. Try again.” he says in a raspy voice that drives you to do as he says. This time you grind against his thigh with enough force to move him and pick up the pace. “There it is, baby.” You nearly fall apart at his words. This is so much hotter than you imagined and you are quickly reaching your peak just from rubbing against him.

“Now for the third law.” He grasps your thighs and holds you to him as he starts to move in tandem with you. “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.” With every push of your hips, he returns in kind. dragging his restrained cock against your clothed center. Your vision is blurring and you’re not sure you’ll last much longer, surprised that Marcus has managed as long as he has.

A husky moan escapes Marcus’s lips as he stills your movements to control his own strokes. “I-I’m close, baby. uuuhhhhh F-fuck.” He pushes your shirt over your chest to reveal your pebbled nipples. He kisses up your sternum and nips under your breast. Your breath hitches as he takes a nipple into his mouth and pulls it taut between his teeth.

“Oh, Fuck! Marcus!” His thrusts, just the right speed and pressure, paired with his mouth on your tits. It has you seeing stars. Your pussy constricts with blinding pleasure as you cum. Marcus is not far behind as his steady stride becomes erratic. He grunts and his hips stutter against yours, gripping your biceps while he rides the high of his orgasm.“Fuck.” he collapses on top of you, knocking the wind out of you.

“Ugh! Marcus, baby…” You push him into a more comfortable position for the both of you, his torso between your legs and head resting on your chest. “Sorry, we didn’t make it past the living room this time, honey…” He huffs, rubbing next to your panty line over the dips of your hips.

“Hey, you won’t see me complaining.” You pull his shirt over his head to get you both more comfortable. “Hey, Marcus?”

“Yeah, baby?” He tilts his head to look up to you with those beautiful brown eyes that you’ve fallen for countless times.

“That…. was sexy as hell.” you bite your lip. His smirk grows to a toothy grin.

“Yeah? You think so?”

You nod your head, mirroring his expression. “Yeah, you were really cute at work with those pick-up lines, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn’t into any of it. But this was something else entirely.”

He chuckles and starts to stand. You groan at the loss of him, not wanting to part just yet. But he has other ideas. He leans over you and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You squeal in protest and he smacks your ass. You realize he’s leading you to the bedroom.

“Don’t worry, baby, we still have plenty of energy to transfer, tonight.”

[winifredsandersonsbitch]

“My Babysittee’s a Vampire”

Spike x Reader, BTVS

Warnings: cursing, partial nudity, a little pain? but not necessarily violence. Possible spoilers.

Description: The reader volunteers to watch Spike at Giles’s house while the others do some sluthing, but nothing goes as planned. It turns out that vampires are very hard to babysit.

Spike swore that the chip in his head prevented him from hurting anyone, but you weren’t so sure. Giles decided to keep him chained up in the house for observation and that required someone to actually observe him. You volunteered.

You were still the weakest of the Scoobies, unfortunately (except for maybe Anya, but she got points for being an ex-demon). There wasn’t much you could do except get in the way of the monster fighting. But if you could be helpful by staying in and doing some homework, hey. You weren’t going to complain.

“What, Buffy can’t even be bothered to watch me herself, now that I’m all neutered?”

Spike was in a hell of a mood, seemingly forgetting that he had come to you and your friends for sanctuary. It probably didn’t help that Giles and Xander chained him up in the bathtub.

“She’s busy.” You were unsure of whether or not you were trying to comfort him or just get him off your back. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and stare at the bloody wall all night?”

“Mhmm.”

You were up against the opposite wall, trying—and failing—to get through the sociology chapter your professor had assigned that day. Everyone else in the gang seemed to ignore their homework entirely, except maybe Willow, but you needed a good grade. Your future plans extended outside Sunnydale. But that was only half the trick. You also had to convince Buffy to come with you.

Spike lapsed into silence as you took your notes, the concept finally clicking into place in your head after the third time around. You highlighted and underlined, drawing triangles to help you understand the ideas of hierarchy and filling up your margins with little asides that helped you contextualize. You didn’t even wonder if you should be worried about the vampire’s sudden quiet until his voice broke through your focus.

“Read to me.”

You dropped your pen, startled. He was staring at you intently, like how you imagined a lion might study its prey. Like everything else had faded from view and he was trying to decide whether or not to take his chances on the hunt.

“I-It’s just soc-sociology,” you stuttered, holding up the textbook for him to see. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“I like people.” Spike bared his teeth in a grin that you guessed was supposed to be charming or encouraging, but toed past the line to frightening. When you hesitated, he sweetened his voice, practically cooing, “Come on. What harm could it do?”

So you did. He never asked you to stop and explain anything or gave any indication that he didn’t understand, but you interjected your own learnings in anyway. You almost forgot that it was him you were talking to. Willow used to really value school, and she was still the smartest person you knew, but witchcraft was taking over her areas of interest and none of the others cared about this kind of stuff unless you were helping them with their own homework. It was nice to have a rapt audience, even if he was literally being held captive.

“Basically, he’s saying that social environment shapes how we act and react to situations. Like in the Stanford Prison Experiment.” Your eyes darted from the text to Spike, waiting for a nod or something, but he looked as much like a statue as ever. “Good people can be made to do bad things because of the pressure they feel, real or imagined, to follow the rules that have been set in their environment.”

You waited for him to tell you that you had been right before and he was bored, but instead he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. The chains around his midsection clanked against each other and you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, even though your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest.

“What about bad people?”

Being around Buffy and the others, around so much supernatural for so many years, had made you into a person who could handle most things with a cool head. It was a required skill. You could freak out about the little things—tests, dating, work—though they seemed to matter less now than ever. But you couldn’t let the supernatural world scare you shitless unless you wanted to shut down completely. Your hands trembled where they grasped your book, but you kept your voice even. You forced your eyes upward to meet Spike’s.

“You tell me.”

——

You couldn’t run away from him, even though you were deeply and truly uncomfortable, so you excused yourself and went to the kitchen for a snack. You knew you shouldn’t leave him alone for too long, chip or not, so you sat down at the table and tried to catch your breath. You were counting down from one hundred when he started shouting about blood.

“It’s unfair,” he said when your frame filled the doorway, arms crossed, “that you get your snack and I don’t get mine.”

At this, his eyes raked down your body. You doubted that the gang would mind much if they came back to find him with a broken nose, but you exercised some hard-won self-control and dug your nails into your palms. Spike was smart and if he was working you up, it was probably for a reason. You treaded back to the kitchen and returned with a mug filled with some B negative that Giles had “borrowed” from the hospital’s blood bank.

“This is the last of the human stuff,” you told him with some satisfaction. “Next you’re drinking pig’s blood.”

You held the mug well away from you, willing your eyes to ignore the splatters on the rim from when you had poured it in. Spike cocked his head.

“Are you going to unchain me, or—?”

“I’ll get a straw.”

When you came back, he was slumped against the inside wall of the porcelain tub. You sat on the edge, held the mug up for him, and turned your head away, enough that you couldn’t see him take his first sip but not enough that he would notice. The sound by itself was almost worse.

“It’s cold.”

“I’m not running a hotel. You’re a hostage.”

“I’m a guest seeking asylum.”

You sucked in a deep breath. “Fine.” You couldn’t bicker with him any more. You needed this to be over.

You warmed it in the microwave, swearing the whole time, and brought it back with both hands wrapped around the mug to keep yourself from throwing the blood in Spike’s face. He smiled as if he knew what you were thinking and relaxed against the tub, tilting up only his chin so that you had to sink to your knees against the tile floor to get an angle that would work.

“I could get used to this,” he mused when he had finished. A few droplets splattered on your hands. You tried not to look at them and began soaping up in the sink.

“Don’t.”

“You know, love, Passions is on in twenty, if your watch is correct.”

You unclasped it from your wrist and wiped it off with a damp tissue. “Forget it.”

“I guess we could always read more from the textbook.” You caught his crafty smirk in the mirror. “You seemed to like that well enough.”

You sighed. “Will it get you off my back?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Fine.”

You crossed to the tub and tried to puzzle out how to lift him without breaking anything. Spike’s hands were bound in front of him by a separate set of chains than his body to make it more difficult for him to escape and give him some limited mobility. His back was flush up against the tub wall, pressed to the porcelain in a way that would make it difficult to pull him up from behind. There was a small amount of space in between his legs, as his feet had been spread to either side of the tap.

“Well?”

“Shut up.”

You stepped into the tub gingerly, easing over the high rim to stand in between Spike’s legs in the space provided. It wasn’t much, and you caught the fabric of his jeans under your foot at first, but you adjusted.

Next you placed your arms on either side of his chest right under his arms.

“Lift with me,” you said, and together you managed to get him to sit on the edge of the tub. “Okay, next—”

He straightened out, trying to stand before you were ready for him, overcompensating so he wouldn’t hit the wall nearest to him and then hitting you with the full force of his weight as he toppled forward.

“Fuck, Spike!”

He was so goddamn heavy. His chest pressed against your face, forcing your back to the wall where the tap caught you in the back of the lower thigh and tore the skin. You couldn’t shove him back unless you wanted him to fall out the back of the tub and onto the floor, possibly cracking his skull in the process. It was tempting, but your reputation as a babysitter would be shredded.

“This isn’t exactly comfortable for me either, you know!”

“Ouch. Ouch. Fuck. Okay, I’m going to push you back slowly. Try to keep your balance.”

But when you moved your leg to keep it from being pressed against the spout, you hit the knob for the cold water, which came pouring down over your heads.

Spike cursed so loudly the neighbors could probably hear. “Turn it off!”

“Stand up! I can’t turn it off with you all over me like this!”

He righted himself too quickly and fell backward back into the floor of the tub, sending his legs sprawling out beneath you. Your feet were knocked out from under you and you fell on top of him heavily, bruising your elbow and knocking your chin against his sternum as the water poured on.

“Fuck,” he whispered, unable to do anything else. It took you both a moment to adjust to the pain and you closed your eyes to your own idiocy.

“Did you hit your head?” you asked finally, reaching out a hand to the platinum blond mop that was now plastered against his skull.

“Turn. The bloody. Water. Off.”

“Okay, okay,” you huffed. He groaned as you sat up, spreading your legs to either side of his hips to steady yourself and keep from slipping in the tub that was slowly filling up. “But this was all you. You had to watch Passions.”

“You’re the one,” he grunted, “who volunteered to play babysitter.”

The shower head drenched you as you twisted and leaned back to flick the knob off.

“I’m normally good with kids, so I figured I could handle one whiny brat for a night.”

You were breathing heavily, your body throbbing from all the places you had scraped and bruised in the struggle. Spike didn’t look much better, although you supposed he had his super vampire healing or whatever. You weren’t worried about it. Your clothes, on the other hand...

“Now what?”

Carefully, you stood and stepped out of the tub. You avoided your textbook on the ground as you grabbed a towel from the cabinets underneath the sink and wrapped it around yourself.

“You can’t leave me here.”

There was at least an inch of water kept in the tub by the plugged drain. It would probably serve Spike right to sit there all night. You both knew that the others would find it funny rather than an exercise in abuse of authority.

“Take the chains off,” he said, switching his tone from murderous to honeyed. “I promise I won’t bite.”

“You can’t,” you retorted, before realizing you had proven his point. “I mean, if what you say is true.”

“Do you think I would be here right now if it wasn’t?”

You couldn’t. This was the setup for a disaster. Things like this always happened to you guys.

“Look, I could’ve hurt any of you before you chained me up. I didn’t.”

He did look kind of pitiful, soaking and lying on his back in the bathtub.

“Maybe you were playing the long game. And now you’ve decided it’s not for you.”

Your words made sense, but you were wavering. Maybe you had a death wish. You left the room for a moment and returned with the key.

“Your hands stay locked up.”

“Fine.”

You were all too aware how close to him you were now, to his mouth. You barely breathed when you stepped into his personal bubble and let the chains slide to the floor. His lips twisted as he looked down on you and before you could step back, his face contorted and he stretched his mouth open.

“Ow! Fuck! Bloody hell!” he cried, putting a hand to his head as you fell back onto the floor on your already sore ass, scrambling backward. “It was a joke!”

“Buffy should have staked you,” you spat, but you led him into the living room anyway.

The two of you were still dripping all over the carpet, but you ducked into Giles’s closet after re-hiding the key and brought out two pairs of pajama pants and a t-shirt.

As it was, you had to take the scissors to Spike’s shirt and throw it out. It was impossible to get it off with the chains on, though you gave it a shot anyway and ended up tangling Spike in it. It was kind of gratifyingly funny to see his head tucked in under the fabric as he struggled.

“You bloody witch!”

“Stop squirming!”

The pants were worse. He had to sit down in the armchair as you shimmied his soaked jeans off, leaving him only in boxers.

“Like what you see?”

“Shut up or I’ll leave you like this.”

Getting the pajamas on was even harder. He had to stand up, support himself by leaning his hands on your shoulder, and kind of hop into the legs of it as you held them up. They were big on him, too, but you tied the drawstrings as tightly as you could, which meant having your hands near a very sensitive area for a few seconds. Ultimately, the pants still hung low on his hips, and you wrinkled your nose in frustration. When you pulled back, Spike had his lips puckered, stringently trying to avoid laughter.

“So you’re just going to leave me in damp knickers?”

“We’re all having to make sacrifices today. Turn around.”

You didn’t want to leave him again, not even for a second, afraid of the trouble he’d get up to on his own. You yanked off your own jeans and t-shirt, watching his back in case he disobeyed you, unable to ignore how muscled and lean he was.

Goddamnit, he really could kill you if he had half a mind to. You’d been training ever since you’d found out what Buffy was, but with school and a job, there was only so much you could fit in.

You wavered between turning around to unclasp your bra and staying in place to monitor him, but ultimately you decided it was safer to just hurry up and do it. You weren’t sure how much skin Spike saw when he went ahead and broke the rules, but it was more than you had hoped. You pulled the t-shirt over your head hurriedly, but Giles wasn’t necessarily a very big man, and it was decidedly short on you.

“Spike,” you hissed. “Go watch TV.”

“Well, we’ve probably missed Passions by now. But our romantic evening doesn’t have to be ruined.” His eyebrow quirked suggestively and you balled up your wet jeans, aiming right at his face.

“Go!”

You almost took yourself out on the corner of the coffee table as you pulled on Giles’s only pair of pajama shorts. You had to roll the top down three times for them to sit at your hips without totally falling off. Spike watched you do it. You gritted your teeth and said nothing.

When the others came back, you and Spike were in separate chairs, your hair still drying.

Xander opened his mouth and then closed it, glancing back and forth between the two of you. Giles seemed disturbed, his right eye beginning to spasm as he spotted the piles of clothes on the floor. Willow stifled a laugh, almost choking on it. And Buffy’s fists curled like she was preparing to hit one—or both—of you.

Spike didn’t look away from the TV, although the corner of his mouth twitched. You dug your fingers into the chair’s arm rests.

“I deserve a raise.”

[willow-salix]

Weird thing that came out in response to the prompt of ‘Touch’

I don’t know where this came from other than my thoughts still being with my pondering post yesterday, that and the thought that people are too quick to judge, too quick to put their own thoughts and feelings onto another person, too quick to jump to their own conclusions rather than simply ask. Thanks to the awesome @gumnut-logic for the prompt and the callenge.

Touch is such a simple word, as can be the gestures themselves. It’s something that most people don’t even think about, it’s something that is so often freely given and received, almost automatically added into gestures of affection and friendship that are now a part of everyday life. No one questions it, no one pays any attention when they see people hugging or kissing, it’s just how it is, even if that touch is so often uninvited, unrequested and sometimes unwanted.

If someone tries to hug you and you flinch, you’re the bad guy, you’re the one in the wrong because you don’t automatically allow someone to invade your personal space. Then you are thought of as cold, unfeeling, unemotional and unsociable. Does anyone bother asking you what you want or if you are OK with it? Not in his experience.

If you don't freely accept every touch that people choose to bestow upon you, because they deem it necessary even if you don’t, it’s you that is seen as being in the wrong. Never them. Touch can be positive, but it can so easily be negative.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like to be touched, he just had to feel comfortable enough with the people around him that were doing the touching. He hadn’t always been that way, in high school he was quiet but comfortable with his small circle of friends and his family, more than happy to receive pats on the back, a brotherly shoulder bump, a hug or to have someone snuggle up to him during family time. 

He was sandwiched in the middle of four brothers, two older, two younger, all with very loud, boisterous personalities, his older brothers always there with a comforting hug or a consolatory arm slung around his shoulder on a bad day, or his younger brothers who’d happily throw themselves on him with little to no warning.

He’d grown up surrounded by people that were free with their affection and never thought twice about touching, and neither had he. 

Losing their mother had changed everything for all of them, the youngest two got the most attention, something he'd never begrudged, they had needed it. Their father had withdrawn into himself, leaving Virgil and Scott to pick up the slack with the house and Alan, leaving him to pretty much fend for himself. He'd been extremely close to their mother and without her there to mediate, knowing when he’d had too much and needed some space or when he needed to be drawn back into the family circle, he'd been left to his own devices and that had meant that he'd locked himself away to grieve in peace. 

Eventually, as a family they had grown stronger and they had attempted to integrate him back into the family unit but it had been too little too late. He'd withdrawn further and it had been noticed at school where he had grown used to either the pitying looks or the nasty sneered comments that were thrown his way. He was a loser, he was a loner, he was weird. His shy nature and now natural inclination to pull away from any physical contact was a beacon to those with a cruel streak as he'd found out to his cost. 

University was supposed to be a game changer, the place where he could find himself and grow comfortable in his own skin but it had had the opposite effect. Long hours spent in solitary study, staying awake into the early hours of the morning to watch his stars, snatching a few hours sleep before attending lectures all day had played havoc with his social skills, poor as they had been before, and had given him an excuse to retire further into himself than he had before.

He’d gotten used to being alone, not having to worry about saying the wrong thing or having to act a certain way. He’d grown used to having his own space, to not having that social interaction, not having people constantly in his face and demanding attention. It was peaceful, quiet and freeing in a way he couldn’t put his finger on but above all it was a relief to be able to think without constant demands on his time. 

But with that had come the absence of people who actively sought him out, who would check in with him even if he felt like he didn’t need them to. He made no effort to join any of the fraternities or clubs that the university had boasted, feeling he didn’t have time for them, and so his friendship circles had grown even smaller. Strangers weren’t as inclined to randomly grab him or touch him as his family had been and so it hadn’t been unheard of for him to go days, sometimes weeks without having any form of physical contact with anyone for the first year of his studies.

His second and third years had been a little different, he’d promised Virgil that he’d try to broaden his horizons and spend more time with people that shared his interests and had actively put himself out there a little more. Going to parties, all of which he had hated and made excuses to slip out early, forming friendships, dating, some casual relationships when they had the time, but at heart he'd still been more comfortable alone. 

After leaving university and devoting his life to International Rescue full time it hadn't been unheard of for him to spend more than a month alone in his craft with nothing but the odd call from home. He'd been so busy that he hadn't even realised that he'd barely spent any time with other humans in over a year. 

Coming down to the Island for the first time in more than two months had been a challenge in itself. After the peaceful quiet of space, entering the lounge had been like walking into a wall of sound. A bubbling cauldron of light, noise, energetic siblings and fussing Grandma and it had been overwhelming to his senses. Alan had rushed at him, almost bowling him over in his exuberance and it had caught him off guard. He'd flinched at the sudden impact of a hard, round head connecting with his sternum and Alan had noticed, they had all noticed. 

Alan had apologised and John had assured him that it was fine, he just needed a little warning next time, but next time had never come. He didn't know why, but after that no one had touched him unless he reached out first and he had to admit that he didn't do it often enough. He just didn't think about it, he wasn't used to including others in his daily life. He never reached out because usually he had no one to reach out to. 

Sometimes they would forget this unspoken rule that they had implemented without his knowledge and would sling an arm around his shoulders or nudge him with an elbow but they always caught themselves, jerking away as if contact with him burnt and backed off without his say so. It made things awkward for him, like they didn't know how to act around him and in turn it made it so he didn't know how to be with them. 

Everyone tiptoed around him, like he was a stray dog that had to be left alone in case they scared him off. Like if they came near him he'd run away. 

His social anxiety would nag at him, telling him that he was making them uncomfortable, that he was in the way, even though he knew in his heart that it wasn't true. They loved him, he loved them, but it had become easier to stay away, for all of them to make excuses for his absence. 

That was until she came into his life. She was his complete opposite, where he would wait to be invited into someone's personal space, she shoved her way in and set up camp. Where he was tentative and shy she was bold and confident. 

She hadn’t seen him as someone to be pitied or coddled, she hadn’t seen him as someone who wanted to be left alone, she had just seen him as someone she wanted to be close to, so she would be no matter how long that took. 

Initially he'd been on edge, his very rusty social skills, his extended periods of alone time, combined with his family's reluctance to get too close to him had left him with what amounted to a mental barrier between himself and reaching out to people. What if they rejected him like they thought he did with them? What if she was just being friendly and didn’t actually want him that way at all? The thoughts running through his head had been loud and obnoxious, drowning out all rational thought, urging him to stay away and forget about her. And he’d listened to it, done as it bid. Until she had stepped in.

She'd been different, she'd respected his boundaries, been aware of his reactions but instead of backing away and waiting for him to ask, she'd offered herself first. 

That had been the difference, she'd offered affection, she'd given him permission to reach out without words and had done it all without making it into a big deal. Because she'd never known him any other way. And that in itself had been refreshing. 

He'd had to shift his perspective, had to learn to relax, to open up and accept someone into his heart. After years of being left alone here was someone that very much wanted him close and wanted to be close in return. 

There had been a steep learning curve to letting someone as chaotic as her into his carefully controlled life but if anything her ability to never take things personally and to not give a single fuck had been a blessing. He'd quickly learnt that he could say absolutely anything and she would never think the worst of him, she had endless patience and for all her high maintenance ways, a calming energy he was drawn to. 

She’d treated him like he was normal, not like he was made of glass that would break any second and he'd responded to it without thinking. She’d touched him unconsciously, a brush of her hand, an arm draped over his as she cuddled against his side watching a movie, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder and he'd done the same. He'd look down and find that his fingers were caressing the soft skin of her wrist, his fingers playing with hers, his hand landing on her knee as naturally as if he'd been doing it forever. And his brothers had watched, watched and smiled. 

The shift had been subtle, so subtle he hadn't been sure at first, but she'd somehow managed to bridge the gap between him and his family that he hadn't even realised had widened that much.

When she sat next to him the others took it as permission to do the same. When she slid her arm around his waist it gave the others a chance to see that he was fine with it, meaning they followed her lead and draped a casual arm around his shoulders without worrying he'd flinch away. 

His brothers had been shocked the first time they had seen her throw herself into his arms after a tough night but that had opened the door for Alan to do the same and John had hugged his baby brother tightly for the first time in years. He was taller, stronger and slightly smellier than he had been the last time it had happened, but he was still the same boy he'd introduced to the wonders of the night sky and rocked as he cried. It had been so incredibly welcome. 

It's strange what you could grow accustomed to given enough time but he hadn't realised how much he had missed that simple closeness until he had it again. How much he’d missed a casual hand on his arm in the place of words, inquiring as to his well being, how much he’d missed the warm weight of a brother squashed beside him on the couch and was grateful to have it again.

His brothers had seemed more relaxed too, like they weren't worrying about him as much and that in turn allowed him to relax with them. They were still respectful of his personal space, giving him time to acclimatise to being home before they started mauling him, but that was fine by him. No one was on edge, no one was worrying that they would do the wrong thing, they had found a happy medium that had been lacking. It was nice and above all it was normal. 

She was free with her affections and treated his brothers the same way, hugging them, cuddling them, comforting them, loving them and they in turn loved her back. She'd unknowingly become the glue that had cemented him back into the family that he'd broken away from, fitting him back in as if he'd never been gone. 

They say that you shouldn't have to change yourself for love, but sometimes it happens for the better. A good relationship should allow you to grow in ways that benefit you not your partner. He’d never given it much thought before, other than believing it to be a load of sentimental, romantic rubbish, but he was happy to find that it was true.

The first time he'd reached out to touch for comfort had shocked him, for so long he'd not needed anyone, but it had been a long, hard day and she was there, all soft, warm and welcoming. Her hair had smelt like home, her head had fitted perfectly into the curve of his shoulder and she'd melted effortlessly in his arms. 

He'd held her, solid and dependable and the world had made sense again. He'd understood what he'd been missing, understood how touch didn't have to be something you endured but something to be enjoyed. 

Touch is a simple word, a simple gesture but it can convey so much.

[amoralityplay]

Tokyo, 1992

[Trigger Warning: Mentions of framed suicides. Genre-related violence.]

It had been nearly a month since Audrey had arrived in Tokyo and there was no sign that the Japanese coalition had accepted her application. Audrey had been to three different vampire-owned blood banks and been refused at each given she was not a member nor a guest of a member. She’d even gone so far as to try to bribe a mortal that worked in one of the Tokyo hospitals for a single bag of blood, to no avail. She was hungry and it might have been decades since she’d had to kill anyone for a meal…but desperation was kicking in. The young vampire, slender under the best of circumstances, was losing weight, the angles of her hips and collarbone growing sharp and her stomach constantly twisting with pangs of hunger. Animal blood and sometimes even just sucking on rare meat—more easily obtained, usually from butchers, had been staving off total starvation, but as Audrey examined her face in the small bathroom mirror of her high-rise apartment, tugging down her lower eyelid to note the pale membrane and pushing her lip up to see the same anemic paleness in her gums, she sighed and resigned herself to it: she was going to have to go hunting. [Cut for Length]

It wasn’t going to be very easy. Tokyo was a huge city, dense with many dark pockets and alleyways, but Audrey, tall and blonde, stood out. There were plenty of expats around, sure, but not enough for her to blend in like she could in Europe or the US. She’d have to be very careful…or…she could go home to Phersipnai and admit she hadn’t been able to take care of herself on her own—always a topic of conversation when they spoke. No, not an option. She’d spent decades hunting like other vampires—though not often alone, she often had company to assist—how hard could it be to pick it back up? 

Later, as she wrestled with a wiry British man she’d met in a bar, grabbing his face and slamming his head back against a wall in a dimly lit alleyway, she realized she was a bit rusty and the malnourishment had left her drained and weak. He’d been charmed by her usual tricks, sure, but that hadn’t lasted very long, and even though she was quite a bit stronger than he was—goddamnit—he wouldn’t hold still as soon as he’d spotted her knife. The third crack of his skull against the wall seemed to do the trick and he finally went limp, unconscious, and Audrey frowned down at the blood splatters on her shirt. It was black, of course—she wasn’t so out of practice as to have worn something light colored—but she hated a mess and, in the age of forensics, bloodied clothes were always a risk. She’d have to burn it. Sliding her knife along his forearm, knowing exactly where to find the radial vein and creating a three inch vertical slit. Audrey felt a wave of relief at the first bright red ebb—his heart hadn’t stopped, which would make feeing much easier. Pressing her lips to the wound, Audrey groaned quietly. She’d been so hungry for so long that even just a mouthful of fresh, warm human blood felt like a godsend…and here she had an entire adult man to feed on. Taking any blood with her would be impractical, especially with how she’d killed him—too risky, someone would find him soon and the police would be looking for a killer, but for a moment, she relaxed just a little, feeling less desperate with each pulse of blood. After a few minutes, the pulsing slowed, then stopped, and Audrey let out a soft sigh. It was just one meal—that wouldn’t get her by very long, but hopefully she’d be able to find a less risky source soon. “So, you do this often, or is this your first time?” Audrey’s own blood ran cold as she turned, hurriedly trying to wipe the blood off her chin. “Wha…what?” “I saw the whole thing. Figured dude here was about to get laid until you started bashing his head in…but damn, I sure didn’t expect that next part.” The man, hands tucked into his jean pockets, was obviously an American; she recognized his accent—a New Yorker. Tall, handsome, broad-shouldered. Audrey was very strong, but unlike the man she’d just killed, this one looked like he could have given her a much harder time; even obvious under the cable-knit sweater he wore, he was sculpted, toned, and built like an athlete or a soldier. Audrey had never, in almost 200 years, been caught with a victim; her heart thrummed against her sternum and her panicked mind tried to find some excuse. The man seemed to notice this and let out a small chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’m not calling the police. But…we should probably continue this conversation elsewhere. Put that knife away and wipe your face.” He took a few steps closer, apparently unconcerned that she was armed, had just killed someone, and was drinking blood. He extended his hand. “C’mon.” Still frozen in place, Audrey’s eyes flickered between him, the corpse, and his hand…and some other sort of hunger nagged at her. She hadn’t quite realized what this other pang was, wouldn’t until years later, but…for the last thirty years, Audrey had been alone. Not always literally…she’d lived with her grandfather in Kiev for much of that time, but…since the disastrous non-wedding, Audrey had avoided other people—vampires and mortals alike, lest she get burned again. She was lonely. “You’re…not afraid I’ll do the same to you?” The man laughed, rolling his eyes. “No. You look like I could snap you in half, you too broke to buy some groceries or something? I’ll buy you dinner…unless that just filled you up.”  Pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of her over-sized leather jacket, Audrey wiped her face, then her hands—most of the blood came off, though she could still smell it—and stuffed the square of fabric back into her pocket and very carefully placed her hand in the man’s. “I can’t eat food,” she said quietly as they walked down the alley, making a few turns until it rejoined a larger street. “Not much, anyway. I’ve got…food allergies, sort of. Too much of the wrong things will make me sick.”  It was very late and the neighborhood, occasionally lit by neon signs, was mostly abandoned. “Interesting excuse. What’s your name? I’m Nate.” Audrey hesitated again. She’d already told him far too much. She could be executed for telling him what she really was, but…he could have already killed her, could have called the police, could have done any number of things to endanger her, and he hadn’t. “Audrey.” “Well, Audrey. I’ll walk you home.” “Oh, that’s…not necessary, you don’t have to—“ “I do have to. Gotta say, I’m a little intrigued, Audrey. Pretty little thing like you, but with those glow-in-the-dark eyes, doing horrible things in alleyways, not being careful enough about it. I would like to know what you are…and, you need a lookout or something.” “…Okay.” It was about 20 minutes before the reached her apartment, and Audrey looked up at Nate as he stood next to her, releasing his hand. “Is this…some sort of trick?” “No. No trick. Invite me in.” Audrey squinted at that. She’d never mistaken another vampire for a mortal before, but that…was an oddly vampiric request. “Why?” “Because…I met some guys in Iraq a few years ago that were ranting about being vampire hunters, and I thought they were just crazy…but I’ll be damned if you don’t seem an awful lot like what they were talking about. And…they said that’s a thing. Vampires—real ones—are very particular about invitations.” Swallowing, Audrey reached into her pocket, fingering her keyring nervously. He was…charming, sort of, and she was lonely and…she supposed if anything went awry, she could kill him. As weak as she was, it might be one hell of a struggle…but she’d manage. “Okay…would you like to come inside?” A bright smile was Nate’s immediate response—and Audrey noted his definite lack of any sort of dentition that would indicate he was a vampire, too. “I would.” As Audrey turned to unlock the door, he rested a hand at the small of her back. “Wasn’t just saying things, by the way,” he said, leaning to murmur against her ear. “You’re beautiful. Nothing hotter than a dangerous woman, y’know?” A little startled by his sudden closeness, Audrey jumped over the threshold, dropping her keys and fumbling as she tried to pick them up. Nate laughed, leaning down to snatch the keyring off the floor, then slid it into his own pocket. “You’re awfully jumpy for a, uh, creature of the night, heh.” “Shhh,” she hissed, pushing the elevator button a few times. “If someone hears you—“ “We’ll kill ‘em.” He finished, draping his arm across her shoulders. “Don’t worry. You and your little secret are safe with me, darling.” 

Once they reached her apartment, Nate snorted softly, looking around the small living room; unlike her Boston home, Audrey had brought almost nothing of value with her to Japan, and she’d found a cheap studio apartment typical to young adults in Japan. It was little more than a kitchenette, a narrow living space with a sofa and a TV, and a bedroom and adjacent bathroom partitioned with a sliding door from the rest of the space.  The single window in the bedroom area was hidden behind a set of blinds and then covered with two layers of heavy, thick black curtains. “How luxurious…No Transylvanian castle for you, then?” Audrey frowned. “That’s a stereotype—“ Nate laughed, dropping onto the sofa. “Sorry, it’s just funny. Supposed to be so mysterious…and you live in this shit apartment like a broke college student. Aren’t you supposed to be some immortal being, thousands of years old and incredibly rich?” 

“I’m not that old…And I have plenty of money, I just…wanted to try something different.” “Ooooh. I gotcha. You’re slumming. Of course you are…heh. I should have known, never met a girl yet who does this grunge look,” he gestured to her outfit, “that wasn’t rich as—“ A low growl gave him pause and his brow shot up as Dogmeat stepped out of the bedroom, lips pulled back in an ugly snarl. “You, uh, didn’t mention the dog…” He squinted, then pushed himself to his feet. “A barghest, huh? Well, that’s a coincidence.” Audrey shrugged her jacket off, hanging it on a coat rack near the door, shushed at the dog, then what Nate had just said caught up with her. “You can…you can tell what he is?” “Sure I can. I’ve got one, too.” Nate looked Audrey over now that she’d removed her coat, then stepped by her to go to the kitchen. “Oughta get yourself cleaned up…You have anything you can eat in here? I’ll make you something while you take a bath.” This entire situation was so strange that Audrey still wasn’t sure how to respond…she stared at Nate for a moment, after which he sighed and leaned against the counter between them. “Audrey. I’m not a rapist or anything…I mean, I have killed people, but…I’m not gonna hurt you.” He shrugged, turning to open the fridge, which was nearly empty except for a few beef bones in tightly wrapped plastic and a foam meat tray with three uncooked steaks on it. “Can you eat this?” He asked, holding the tray out. “I can, a small piece. It’s better to just…suck on it a little, to get the juices out of it. I bought it mostly for the dog…animal proteins don’t make me as sick as other foods will, but…they don’t really do much nutritionally.” “Cooked?” “Only a little.” “Okay. Go take a bath.” Audrey nodded slowly, and for a moment she wondered why she was letting any of this happen. Maybe the starvation was getting to her. As he’d promised, Nate didn’t interrupt Audrey as she laid in the tub for a while, long enough that the water started to chill unpleasantly and she was finally forced to get out. The meal from earlier had started to kick in and she felt better. Dressing in a loose white t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, Audrey re-emerged to find Nate sitting on the sofa, eating one of the steaks himself while Dogmeat chewed a raw one nearby. Instead of the third steak, a glass with 2 inches of blood at the bottom of it rested on the coffee table. Audrey sucked in a small breath, biting into her lower lip. “Where’d you get that?” “It’s mine.” He held out his hand, which he’d wrapped a dishtowel tightly around. “Cut myself when I was cutting this steak up…why let it go to waste?” “…we’re…not supposed to drink from a mortal we don’t kill. It’s…against the rules.” “That so? How’s following the rules working out for you? That fridge was awful empty and you look like you’re starving even after that guy in the alley.” Audrey frowned, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her t-shirt. “There’s…some sort of problem with my application to the…well, it’s politics, that’s all. I can’t buy blood until it’s sorted out. But…I shouldn’t, it’s…not safe to drink from people anymore, I was just…I had to, earlier. And I shouldn’t…not again. Maybe you should go.” She knew she shouldn’t let him go, either. She should kill him, bottle up as much of his blood as she could and dump his body off the roof like a suicide. But…there was something about him. And he had a barghest, too…maybe it was fate that she’d met him. A mortal that was willing to feed her? It seemed too good to be true. “If you want me to go, I will…but I don’t think you really do. I’m clean, I’m in the Army. Get tested every few months. That’s probably the safest blood you’ll find anywhere this side of the Pacific.” Audrey didn’t move for another moment, considering. She was still hungry, and could smell the blood from where she stood, her mouth literally watering. She could figure out what to do about the rules later, she decided. She sat down next to Nate, picked the glass up and drained it with a low, pleased rumble as Nate watched, letting out an approving hum. “‘Atta girl.” “Thank you,” she murmured, setting the glass back down and glancing at Nate’s hand. “Do you need stitches?” “Nah. Had a lot worse. I’ll be fine. You probably need some sleep, though…” He glanced at his watch. “It’s 5am. Can, uh, vampires go out in the sun or is that another stereotype, too?” “No…that one is true. Vampirism causes extreme photosensitivity…UV light will burn me.”  Nate stood up. “Okay. I’ll come back later…8pm? We’ll go out to dinner…and find you something you can eat. Wear something nice. Grunge doesn’t suit you.” He closed the space between them, standing next to Audrey for a minute as he looked down at her, a crooked smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “You want a bite before I go? Saw those sharp little fangs of yours when you bit your lip…if you’ve got those, why’d you use a knife on that guy?” Audrey looked down, blushing. “N-no. And…it’s just…more efficient. And not as messy.” Nate snorted. “If you say so. I think there’s probably something to be said for living true to our most authentic selves, and seems like you were born to be a predator…but we can talk more about that some other time. I’ll see you later, Audrey.” Leaning as if he might kiss her, Nate stopped, turned on his heel, and abruptly left, leaving Audrey standing in the middle of the small living room, a little baffled…and maybe a little excited. 

[captainchrisfics]

Call It Even

About: First-person pov narrator is one of those doctors that consults on medical shows/movies for the sake of accuracy (God forbid I find the actual word for it anywhere on Google…) but it happens to be a project starring the one and only Chris Evans. After a little sexist slip up, he spends the fic trying to make it up to her. With absolutely not a single ulterior motive, mind you.

Word Count: 2,351

Requested By: Anon! Thanks for submitting this and being patient with me. Hope it’s everything you’ve been waiting for. x

P.S. This is so unabashedly and unapologetically inspired by Code Black, my favorite medical drama based on an eye-opening documentary. Totally check out the show and the doc if you haven’t, it’s had my heart since I was like 16. Neal Hudson in the first season, at least. And please forgive any inaccuracies, I did a bit of research for this one, but there’s not a ton available for this sort of thing.

“It’s weird having you here, not gonna lie,” Jack remarked with a smirk. He crossed his arms and looked me up and down, taking in the sight of me standing on his movie set.

He was right, it was weird for me to be here too, but I just told him to shut up and focus. I took aim and tossed the next grape into the air between us, which my friend ducked and nearly dove for and somehow failed to catch it in his mouth anyway.

“It’s weird that you’re still so bad at this,” I said with a snort. Playing catch with our food was a way we’d been killing time since our high school study hall, which he was just as bad at even back then.

Jack climbed off the floor with a pout. “This isn’t in my job description,” he argued, rolling his eyes. Since our first food-catching contest, my type-A, detail-oriented best friend had managed to land a job as a script supervisor. 

Lord knows he wouldn’t have made a good pitcher. He wound up and tossed a grape into the air way higher than he meant to, but I caught it between my teeth easily.

“Mine either,” I remarked, smiling smugly. Truth was, a movie set was way out of my wheelhouse. Typically, by now I’d be scrubbing in for surgery or sifting through mountains of paperwork, but today was different. This morning I was making the most of my M.D. by filling in for the medical consultant on Jack’s latest project. It was a movie following a guy’s residency experience in an inner-city ER more like a war zone, based on some documentary, but I didn’t know much other than that. The perks of being hired last minute.

While I didn’t think Jack would find my snide remark all that funny, I certainly didn’t expect the way he stood up straighter and stiffened his upper lip. My face contorted with confusion as I tried to ask what was up with him, but his attention was focused over my shoulder. 

There was a man I think I’d recognize anywhere. Even with his grown scruff and dark hair, the gentle curve of his torso transitioning from his wide shoulders to small waist was familiar. He was smiling so wide it crinkled the corners of his eyes, something I wasn’t used to seeing on screen, as he shook everyone’s hand. It was early in the morning, but he seemed peppy enough that he’d already been awake for hours. He was trailing behind the director, who was introducing the actor to everyone on set, but he stopped to laugh at something I couldn’t hear the cameraman say. His hand rose and touched his pec as he threw his head back with laughter I’d recognize a mile away.

“You didn’t tell me Chris fucking Evans was going to be here,” I hissed to Jack between the gritted teeth of my smile. I would’ve tried to hide the dark-circles that came with a night on call behind some concealer.

“And this is the script supervisor and medical consultant,” the director said, although his attention was more devoted to the clipboard in his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Doctor…?” Chris asked, reaching for a last name as he extended his hand to Jack. 

My friend looked between the hand and me with raised eyebrows and a slack jaw, taking offense on my behalf. I stretched to meet his hand and gave it a firm shake as I said, “That’d be me, actually.”

“Oh…” Chris sighed, processing his mistake. His face contorted with embarrassment, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing as he kicked himself internally. “I didn’t- Well, I mean, I’m really sorry,” he said with wide eyes like a plea for forgiveness.

“Happens,” I shrugged him off, although it still felt his words land in the bottom of my stomach. After years of people hearing “doctor” and assuming “man,” the impact of the punch starts to dull. At first, I would grimace and snap back, but now I could smile through the wince. “I’ve gotten used to it. Nothing personal.”

“That’s a shame,” Chris answered with more sincerity than I anticipated. 

I nodded and chewed on my bottom lip, a little taken aback. I nervously retracted my hand as I realized, somehow, he was still holding it and tucked my hair behind my ear. Every bit of the excitement I’d felt for meeting Captain America was replaced with a terrible awkwardness that filled the space between us like air.

“Well,” Chris said, clearing his throat. He ran the hand I’d shook through his hair as he smirked. “It’s nothing compared to saving lives, but I hope you enjoy working on our set. We’re lucky to have you.” He smiled, genuinely and in recovery, this magnetic charisma washing over him and rolling off his aura like waves. 

“I just hope I never have to see another tv doctor break seizure protocol by pinning a patient down,” I snorted, rolling my eyes at my own bad joke.

Chris laughed, probably just to be nice, as he straightened his white lab coat by the lapels. “I won’t let you down,” he promised. Chris stood there looking at me with his undivided attention, as if he didn’t have a filming schedule to keep or dozens of more crew members to meet. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the fiery blush of my cheeks spreading with every second until the director cleared his throat and kept tugging Chris along.

I turned to Jack, my mouth opening and shutting just like the fish out of water I felt I was, as I tried to put words to the feelings in my chest or the thoughts in my head. He didn’t have any to offer either though, only wide, shocked eyes.

“I can’t believe he thought you’d be a man,” Jack said incredulously, almost breathlessly.

“Please,” I retorted, brushing him off with a wave of my hand. “I’m used to that. What I can’t believe is that anyone could think you were a doctor.”

Jack shoved my shoulder as he rolled his eyes, their playful glint giving him away. 

The next time I saw Chris, he was knelt on a gurney, straddling the dummy “patient” he was meant to be treating in his grand entrance. He was put in scrubs and spritzed with faux sweat to make it look as though he’d been working on saving people with every last ounce of himself, totally not because it made him glisten like the heavens under the fluorescent hospital lights. He seemed focused though, with the tip of his tongue peeking out between his chapped lips and his thick brows knitted together in mock concentration, as he was wheeled to the Trauma Bay. 

But it didn’t take an expert’s eyes to see that Chris’s hands were far too low, so the only thing he’d be giving anyone was a sick stomach instead of CPR, and his rhythm was completely off.

And then his shoulders started shaking as he chuckled, dropping his head in a dry laugh. Through the camera’s screen, I watched Chris look at the lens’s operator with this shit-eating grin as he scoffed and said, “I bet this looks pathetic, huh?”

Then he turned to me, this spark in his eye that caught fire in my stomach. “Mind showing me how to do this? I thought I could fake it ‘til I made it, but evidently…” Chris trailed off as he sat up, leaning back on his heels invitingly.

I crossed my arms and leaned back in my folding chair. “Isn’t that your job?” I teased with raised eyebrows at Chris, whose smile only grew.

“I thought this was yours?” he volleyed back, one of his eyebrows reaching its peak.

“At least for today,” I rolled my eyes, albeit more playfully than I’d intended. I hopped up and met him at the side of the gurney, trying to ignore all the eyes on us.

I instructed Chris to resume the position he’d had before, leaning over the dummy. I tucked myself between his arm and ribs. “You want to have your hands like this,” I said, showing him how I tucked the fingers of my left hand between that of my right and placed my palm over the chest’s sternum. 

We were impossibly close, every breath borrowed from the other, and suddenly I was kicking myself for the third cup of coffee. It was funny, seeing someone covered in “sweat” but smelling so much like a fresh shower.

“Push about two inches deep thirty times,” I said. Chris put his hands over mine, guiding his hands with mine as I placed pressure on the sternum, making it hard to focus. I definitely miscounted by at least a dozen, but Chris didn’t mention it. I had a feeling he wasn’t being the most attentive either. All I could feel was his chest pressed against my back and my heart pounding so hard it felt like ready to break a rib.

“Before you pinch the nose, lean the head back, and breathe,” I demonstrated, moving Chris’s hand to the stomach so he could feel it inflate. Once I pulled away, he followed my lead.

“I think I get it now,” he said as he sat up, tongue tracing his bottom lip. He blinked slowly, blue eyes growing glazed. 

“You’re welcome,” I responded, clearing my throat and stepping away from Chris without another beat passing between us, as quick as you’d drop a pan after getting burned.

Chris frowned slightly and only for a second, though I still caught the deep creases that carved themselves into the corners of his lips and in between his furrowed brow. “Thanks,” he said, almost disappointed, if I didn’t know any better.

I tried to keep my distance after that. Mostly because there were way too many minor, infuriating inaccuracies I couldn’t give any input on for the sake of the storyline so I figured I might as well take a step back. But, if I’m honest, it was partly because I was trying to avoid a certain star as well.

I stood at the snack table, staring at a bowl of apples and trying to figure out exactly what happened earlier. Make some sort of sense of the butterfly wings fluttering so furiously in my stomach I was starting to feel ill. 

Then, almost like I was speaking of the devil, Chris appeared out of thin air. He leaned against the table, saying something about how sitting on the sidelines between takes he wasn’t in was the worst part. “But I’ve been looking for a chance to really apologize to you since this morning,” he said dejectedly, that goosebump-inducing gaze flitting from my eyes.

“It’s really alright,” I insisted, running out of patience for it. I was growing tired of all these guys around me trying to right their wrongs against me for their own sake instead of just moving on as I intended to.

“No, it isn’t” Chris responded anyway, leaning an elbow against the table as he relaxed. My eyes outlined his broad shoulders, watching how their muscles contracted as he stretched.

I smiled, trying to be polite. “All’s been forgiven,” I promised. Silently, I begged him not to bring it up again. I took a shot at changing the subject, as I said, “I was thinking of getting lunch soon. Anywhere you recommend?” 

Chris’s head glanced to the set, going along just fine without him. “I’ve got a little over an hour until my next scene,” he thought out loud, almost absentmindedly. He turned back to me, the corner of his mouth lifting up in this smirk that made me painfully aware of my racing pulse. “And a craving for some tacos,” Chris continued as he moved even closer to me, oblivious to how soon his CPR crash course might come in handy.

I took a few deep breaths and stared at our shoes. Those ocean eyes were about to be the death of me if I couldn’t figure out how to keep my head above water around Chris. I hoped I would be, for at least a little while longer.

“I would really like to take you out to this place around the corner,” Chris posed, staring at me with these pleading eyes through his dark lashes. He cleared his throat before adding, “I mean, if you want to of course.”

“Look,” I sighed as Chris’s shoulders dropped. “I appreciate it, really, but you don’t need to try to keep making up for your slip up earlier. It’s fine, I’m fine, I don’t need you to take me to lunch to make me feel better,” I snapped. Maybe every feeling mixing in my chest finally boiled over, but it wasn’t worth the way Chris looked at me.

“No, I…” he trailed off, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I mean, yeah, I still feel like shit for my sexist assumption, but that has nothing to do with this,” Chris maintained in exasperation. “Well, to be totally honest, I was trying to ask you out on a date.”

For a split second, I swear I flat-lined. “What is that supposed to mean?” I spit out, unable to believe it.

Chris only laughed before he said, “I was gonna buy, try to talk to you some more. Make up for being an idiot earlier, sure, but maybe get your number if I was lucky.”

“Hell,” I said, breaking out into a flustered grin. “I’m the lucky one in that case.” Chris chuckled again, but I didn’t give him a chance at another wise-crack. “I suppose I could accept that offer,” I teased, playfully biting my bottom lip as I pretended to think it over. “If only to atone for snapping at you.”

Chris nodded as he laughed, holding his hand over his heart. “I see how it is,” he crossed his arms, playing stiff. He sucked his teeth as he thought it over. “I guess we could call it even then.”

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[keeroo92]

Commission Request: AU with V, Vergil, & fem reader for delicious threesome. The 3 are a team of demon hunters that have worked together for a while. Both V & Vergil want reader & reader wants both of them. They think reader is sweet & bubbly (which she is) but when they get her into the bedroom (or wherever); they are extremely surprised that she is, in fact very dominant. More dominant than both of them. There is this competition between these 3 for dominance but reader ends up winning.

Thank you so much for the commission! It’s always a pleasure writing for you

Word count - 5,099

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Sweat dripped from your chin, falling to mix with the blood already splashed across the cobblestone underfoot. Light spilled through the tangled branches overhead and dappled the area in patches of yellow. The scent of copper was thick in the frozen air, but it didn’t bother you; it hadn’t for years.

Only the sound of rapid breathing broke the stillness as the last Caina dissolved into ash. Clouds of steam accompanied every exhalation from you and your two best friends and teammates. Three sets of lips twisted as one, adrenaline fading into the familiar surge of relief that came after every battle, even after all these years.

“Sweet, we survived another one! Once the client pays us, first round’s on me!” you said with a cheerful grin.

Your white-haired companion shook his head as he sheathed his elegant blade. He was the most serious of your trio, always seeking to improve his skills and training with a dedication that bordered on obsession. No doubt he’d refuse, as he always did. You mentally counted back from five and bit the inside of your cheek when he spoke as if on cue.

“I’ll have to decline; my parries need work.”

You shared an amused glance with your second companion, flashing a hand signal behind your back. His lips split open as he flashed it back at you – he’d been counting, too.

His black hair shone as he stepped out of the shade, emerald eyes twinkling with humor. He was always ready with a witty one-liner or strange observation, helping to counter Vergil’s serious nature with laughter. Not to say he didn’t take the job seriously, not even close. V was one of the most focused people you’d ever known. Once he set his sights on something, it was only a matter of time before he reached it.

“No rest for the damned. Or the perfectionist,” he quipped.

Vergil huffed, taking the bait even though he really ought to know better by now. “There’s nothing wrong with having high standards.”

“On that much, we can agree,” V replied, his eyes flashing your way.

“Not on anything else, though,” you chimed in, retracting your wrist blade with a wry grin. The two men shared an indecipherable look as they followed you down the sidewalk, heading back toward home base.

Your mind wandered as your trio traversed the area, lingering on the two men as always. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment your feelings changed, but that wasn’t the issue at hand.

No, the issue at hand was how the heck to deal with it.

All the tired clichés and excuses rattled around in your head. You didn’t want to risk losing their friendship, what if they felt the same but things went wrong, what if it was just a passing crush… blah, blah, blah. Still, that wasn’t the worst of it.

The worst of it was that you had feelings for both of them.

You’d been in love before, but never with more than one person at the same time. It both thrilled and scared you, forcing you to reevaluate your self-image. For weeks, you struggled with guilt and shame, mind stuck on the classical understanding of a relationship. Two people, no more. Add a third and it became complicated.

Some people did it well, but you didn’t think you were one of them.

And there was no way in hell you could ever choose one of them over the other. They were both equally important to you, though for different reasons.

Vergil kept you from slacking, always encouraging you to keep working on your skills or interests whatever they were. The few times you went to him for advice, he’d helped you construct a step by step plan to resolve the issue and would ask about your progress a few days later. He helped you become the best version of yourself, one day at a time. He was a warrior, a man with unshakable honor and integrity. His stubbornness and insistence on quality could be annoying, but if that was the worst of it you couldn’t really complain. He inspired you.

V kept you from taking everything too seriously. His sarcastic jokes and witty puns always made you laugh, even in the darkest circumstances. He was an old soul, the weight of wisdom in his emerald eyes yet he still acted like a child. He had simple dreams of a peaceful life and a home by the sea, and no matter what was stressing you out he would sit and listen for as long as you needed. He was one of those rare people that didn’t try to fix your problems for you, simply offering his understanding and comfort while you sorted things out for yourself. He believed in your ability to handle things, but would always be there to cheer you on or help you stand up again. He supported you.

To lose either of them was unthinkable.

Your trio turned the last corner toward home, walking the familiar asphalt toward the grey building. It wasn’t much to look at on the outside. Slate panels and unremarkable architecture, two trees and a few shrubs dotting the tiny yard.

“I’ll get dinner started,” V said. You couldn’t help but steal a glance at his backside as he walked to the front door, saving the image for later.

Inside, the home was completely different. Classical European furniture complemented the elaborate wallpaper, dark oak floors with thick plush rugs on the ground floor and soft carpet upstairs in the bedrooms. Bookshelves lined the walls, almost every room had two or more. Various portraits and landscape paintings in heavy frames hung on the walls, lit with special lights V installed. All in all, it felt like a palace or a museum.

Home sweet home.

Vergil turned toward the training room, probably going to work on his parries and leaving you to your own devices.

You sighed in resignation and headed to the heavy desk by the window. There was work to do, invoices to file and clients to charge. Tedious tasks, but crucial to the success of your business. You cracked your knuckles and dug in.

Roughly an hour passed with only the sound of shuffling papers and far off clangs of steel. A mouth-watering aroma spread through the home and your stomach rumbled its approval. The scent strengthened until you couldn’t stand it and set the paperwork aside to join V in the kitchen; the more help he had, the sooner you could eat some of his delicious cooking.

The man in black was humming as he stir-fried a mix of veggies. A metal pan sat at his elbow with a juicy roast at rest, chopped potatoes a thick bed beneath it.

“Wow… what’s the occasion?” you asked.

He gave the veggies another stir and turned his smirking face toward you. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You stepped closer to the roast to take a deep sniff, flooding your mouth at the savory smell. You stole a piece of potato and popped it in your mouth, moaning as the seasoning made your taste buds sing.

“This ib so gub!”

He raised an eyebrow, lips twitching in humor as you swallowed. “Thief. I’m afraid there are consequences to stealing.”

His honeyed voice and suggestive words sent a shiver down your spine. Did he know he was doing that? How could he not?

Well, two can play at that game!

You gave him a salacious grin and stole another potato. “Pfft, like what?”

He tutted and long fingers wrapped around your wrist as you brought the morsel to your mouth. His grip kept your hand from moving, so you angled your head under your fingers and released the snack so it fell right on your tongue.

“Like you get to fetch Vergil. Time to eat,” he replied.

“A fair punishment,” you said, grabbing one last potato as you headed for the training room.

Steel striking steel echoed in the hall, louder with every step. You found Vergil in the midst of his training, his blade slicing through the air to clang against the mechanized dummy’s attack. His form was perfect, fluid and agile, every muscle honed to perfection. Not a single motion was wasted, not a scrap of energy spent unless absolutely necessary.

And he’s shirtless…

Pale skin glistened with just a hint of sweat, shadows playing across the planes of his chest. His icy gaze was locked on his target as he stepped back to prepare another strike. You cleared your throat and tried not to show how much you enjoyed the view as he lowered his sword to face you.

“Dinner’s ready,” you said.

He hummed and sheathed the blade, reaching for a nearby towel to wipe away the evidence of his exertion. There was no stopping your eyes from following the path of the fabric. You’d never been jealous of an inanimate object before.

Vergil smirked. “You’re staring.”

Crap.

No point denying it…

“What, can’t a girl admire a nice view?”

He stepped closer, grabbing his shirt and vest but he didn’t dress. Instead he came closer still, standing less than a yard away from you and giving you an up-close look. You forced your expression to hide the heat pooling between your legs.

“Why look when you can touch?” he murmured.

Your eyes shot to his. First V, now Vergil? Why the hell were they teasing you so much tonight?

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his arm extending to bring your hand to his sternum.

His skin was smooth and still heated from his practice. The air between you and the snowy-haired man crackled with tension as you spread your fingers and dragged your palm across his pecs. Your heart was racing, mind frozen and yet simultaneously spinning with questions you didn’t dare ask.

An exaggerated cough pulled your attention to the doorway to see V leaning on the frame, arms crossed and an annoyed expression on his features. Your hand dropped from Vergil’s chest and you shifted your weight, eyes searching for a safe area to look at.

“I thought we agreed, Vergil…” the tattooed man said.

Agreed? On what?

“Hmph. You know where I stand.”

What the fuck are they talking about?

V lowered his arms and joined you and Vergil, your bodies forming a triangle on the padded floor. His emerald eyes glittered as he looked at you, an unfamiliar darkness peeking through. Your breath hitched and lightning sizzled across your skin as his slim fingers rose to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I’ve seen the way you look at us, Y/N. You lack subtlety,” he informed you with a smirk.

Vergil growled, glaring at the poet as you internally smacked yourself. They knew. Was that why they teased you? Were they being serious or making fun of your feelings? Embarrassment rushed through you at the thought, followed quickly by anger.

“What the heck are you two talking about?” you asked. You weren’t admitting to anything until they confirmed it.

“We’ve discussed it between us and come to a conclusion,” Vergil began, dropping his shirt and vest. V circled around to stand behind you, his tattoos twitching.

A hand on your cheek dragged your eyes back to Vergil’s. V’s voice was velvet against your ear, his fingers stroking your waist. It felt delightful, despite the confusion. They were touching you, acting like they wanted you just as much as you wanted them and it was setting you on fire.

“It’s time to stop pretending. He who desires but act not, breeds pestilence.”

You lost the ability to respond as Vergil lunged forward to press his lips to yours.

Holy hell! Is this really happening?

You struggled to believe it; why tonight, after years of friendship, were they being so bold? Why now? Why not months ago and every day since? What took them so long?

Two sets of hands danced across your body as you opened to him with a soft whine. Blood rushed in your ears as your tongues met and you discovered Vergil’s unique taste. You trailed your palms up his chest, mapping his every crevice and curve and eliciting a sinful growl from the man. A shudder ran through you at the sound.

Fuck yes, this is finally happening!

Your hands flew to Vergil’s belt, tugging the strap loose with a swift jerk. Insistent fingers pulled at your shirt, lifting it to expose your stomach. Elegant digits caressed the sensitive area, a light pressure teasing at your core and you arched into V’s touch, aching for deeper contact. He didn’t disappoint you and dipped his fingertips lower, lower…

Come on, lower!

As if the man read your mind, his fingers reached for the fastenings of your pants and deftly forced them to the floor, taking your panties with them. You kicked the fabric away with a grin. He pressed against you, letting you feel his length as hot breath caressed your ear. “I’ve wanted this for a very long time.”

He went lower.

He teased at your folds, scraping a single finger against your clit. You gasped and pulled away from Vergil, leaning against V and angling your body to gain more friction as he traced circles around your bundle of nerves. The fire between your legs pulsated with every swirl, growing hotter and hotter by the second and sending a series of guttural moans loose from your lips. The white-haired man seized the opportunity and pulled away your shirt; seconds later your bra joined it on the floor.

V’s free hand kneaded your chest, skilled fingers rolling your nipple into a stiff peak. A growl escaped Vergil’s lips and he swatted away the poet’s palm, his mouth taking its place. His tongue laved across the tender flesh, hands wrapping around you on either side to pull you closer and subsequently away from V. The loss of contact was a splash of iced water on your arousal.

Vergil, you jackass!

The poet huffed in annoyance. His stroking fingers paused, leaving you slick and frustrated and whimpering. You tried to shift backward to regain his heat but Vergil’s grip held fast.

Are you fucking kidding me?

V solved the problem by pushing Vergil’s face away from your chest and replacing it with his palm.

Alright, that’s it!

“Both of you, knock it off! If I have to tie you up to enjoy myself, I will,” you said.

Behind you, V snorted. He had the grace to try and cover it with a cough, but you knew him too well. Vergil stared into your eyes with a smirk, daring you to even try restraining him.

“I’m not kidding.”

The smirk grew.

Fine. Two can play that game.

You turned around to face the poet. His eyes were blown wide, the familiar emerald tone almost lost in his pupils. His hand moved to your hip and rubbed circles, his other coming to rest wrapped around your back.

“Are you going to behave?”

His lips twitched, but he nodded. Good enough for now.

Your hands traced the dark lines covering his alabaster skin, his tattoos dancing in a display of his enjoyment under your touch. One palm drifted lower to tug his t-shirt away, the other higher to answer one of your more persistent fantasies. You tangled your fingers in his obsidian locks and tugged, forcing his head to the side.

The look on his face was glorious, lips parted to release a restrained moan, brows drawn together and eyes fluttering closed. Vergil’s sharp intake of breath only heightened your self-satisfaction and you couldn’t resist any longer.

A single step was all it took to close the gap between you and the poet and press your lips to his for a deep kiss. You wrapped yourself around the black-clad man, reveling in the taste of his soft lips, the scent of his skin mixed with leather, the blazing heat of his body. His hips bucked against yours as he pulled you closer and you indulged yourself with a few rough grinds on his length. Waves of pleasure cascaded through your flushed body.

At last you pulled away to breathe and take in the results of your efforts. V’s eyes were dark and hungry as he stared down at you. A light blush stained his normally pristine cheeks, swollen lips open to catch his breath.

“Maybe that’s for the best, I’m not sure you could handle it anyway, Vergil. Look what I did to poor V.”

Vergil tutted, his hands exploring your thighs and trailing lightning down your spine. The poet hummed his agreement, an amused smirk pulling at his lips as he shared a knowing look with you.

“Yes, it would be such a shame if you couldn’t last.”

Vergil scoffed in response and tugged you against his cock, pressing a row of blistering kisses on your neck and shoulders. He rutted against your ass and groaned, dragging one hand to your core and dipping inside to curl against your walls.

“I will last as long as is required,” he said.

“Vergil, behave!” you commanded, using the tone you normally reserved for battle.

His fingers withdrew, recognizing the intensity of your voice. You stepped away and glared at him, holding that icy gaze for a moment before realizing he wasn’t going to surrender. Not yet.

Fucking Sparda blood, I swear…

“V, take off your pants. Vergil, don’t move.”

The poet tore away his trousers, smirking at you as you watched him lower them inch by inch to reveal himself. He lifted an eyebrow as you licked your lips and beckoned him closer, crouching down to meet him.

You stroked V’s length with one hand, spreading precum across his shaft as you moved. He released an obscene moan, his head falling back in the grip of his pleasure. With another few strokes, you leaned forward and licked his tip, humming at the salty morsel. He rested one palm on the crown of your head as you filled your mouth with his cock, hollowing your cheeks and looking up at him. The sounds you made as you bobbed were filthy, using your tongue to map his every inch. Your other hand crept across his back, dipping lower and lower until you found the tight ring you were searching for. A soft swipe across was all it took to elicit a groan.

You grinned and withdrew. “Interesting…”

Vergil was still glaring where you left him, his irritation rolling off him in waves. It was almost cute to see how he sulked, but he’d done as you told him. He deserved a reward.

“Both of you, come here and get on all fours.”

The poet didn’t hesitate, smirking as he got comfortable. Vergil couldn’t hide the gleam in his icy eyes, but he made a show of huffing as he joined V. You almost giggled; you were going to break through every layer of his nonsense and leave him craving more.

You coated your fingers with your own fluids and took a position between them. Goosebumps erupted across V’s squirming tattoos as you dragged your fingernails down their spines simultaneously, murmuring praise and shifting your hips to find what little friction you could. The view was divine, both beautiful men sprawled out before you with their assets lifted and begging for attention. Vergil was still tense, but he’d get there in time.

The fluid on your digits made a perfect first coating and you paused to refresh it, indulging your aching clit with a few perfect strokes. Only the promise of what was to come brought your fingers back.

You probed V first, intent on rewarding his continuous good behavior. His hands spasmed on the training mat as you slid inside to the first knuckle, every line of his tattoos dancing across his pale skin as he moaned. You waited, giving him the chance to tell you to stop if he needed it, but he only shifted his hips, trying to get you further inside. His shoulders heaved in gasps as you twitched your finger, testing his sensitivity.

You’d never heard him curse so violently.

With a gleeful smile, you leaned closer to his ear, your words for him alone. “You look so good like this.”

“Mmm, you’ll look even better when it’s your turn…” he replied.

Your finger crept forward to the next knuckle and he cursed again, arms flexing and tattoos swirling. They moved erratically, a clear indication of his status he couldn’t hide. You turned your attention to Vergil, giving the poet a moment to relax before you destroyed him.

Vergil was watching your every move, clever eyes locked on where your finger was buried in his counterpart. He was much harder to read, but as you traced a fingernail over his opening there was no denying the twitch of his hips. His nostrils flared as you pressed gently, taking your time to let him adjust.

The flames of arousal between your legs were delicious torture and you shifted again, leaning over to whisper in Vergil’s ear. “Relax. I’ll take care of you.”

The cords of sinew running up his neck flexed and he turned his head to meet your eyes. He looked so lovely with a light tinge of blood in his cheeks and a determined glare in his cool depths. “Careful, Y/N. Don’t forget this is only happening because I allow it.”

Wanna bet?

You sank your finger deeper and curled it, scraping against him. V was being so good, you twitched for him as well. Both men cursed into the mat, bodies reacting more honestly than you could’ve imagined. Knowing you could bring them to this sent pulses of heady power rushing through your veins, pride and lust mixing together in a jolting cocktail.

“I want you to watch,” you told Vergil, pulling your finger back a fraction to threaten the consequences if he chose to refuse. He whimpered, a sound unlike anything you’d ever heard from the man as he turned his head to gaze at where you were buried inside V.

Wow. That was weirdly hot.

You sank into the poet, fully cocooning your finger in his body. His tattoos moved more chaotically than ever as he gasped, his dark hair falling forward to hide his face as you began massaging him. His arms trembled, his cries of delight fanning your own desire. You bent over and planted a row of kisses along his ribs, adding a nip here and there for good measure. He bit his lip and a look of pain twisted his regal features; instantly you stopped.

“You can’t hold it back much longer, can you?”

You glanced at Vergil, making sure he was paying attention to the poet’s response and caught your breath. His icy eyes were dilated to the point you could barely see the ring of blue, his cheeks and neck flushed in excitement as V moaned his confirmation against the mat. The white-haired man’s nostrils flared as you sank your finger home, his ability to restrain himself eroding with every touch and you reveled in the sense of power it gave you.

V looked like he was ready for more, his peak a safe distance away once more, yet you barely had to move for him to react. You split your focus between the two men, using up the last traces of your own fluids to bring them both to the brink of bliss and pulling out just before they unraveled.

You slid between them and curled against Vergil, pulling V along behind you. The poet’s full lips peppered your shoulders as you molded your mouth to Vergil’s, brushing strands of white out of his eyes.

He growled and shifted his hips, rutting against your thigh as his hands explored your body. Shivers of delight danced across your skin, lightning scorching your every nerve. You rolled onto Vergil, coating his length in your wetness with a soft moan.

“What’s the magic word?” you asked him with a wicked grin.

His lips moved but no sound came out. Damn. You shrugged as if it didn’t matter to you, then ground into his cock and brought V’s hand to your core. The poet didn’t hesitate, plunging his long fingers into you right over where Vergil’s angry, twitching cock rested and curling against your sensitive walls. You released an exaggerated moan and closed your eyes.

“Please,” Vergil whispered.

That’ll do.

V withdrew as you wrapped your fingers around Vergil’s shaft, giving him a few strokes before angling him at your entrance. His hands stroked your ribs and you shivered, taking his first few inches with a whimper. His lewd growl made you grin and you lowered yourself down until he was fully sheathed, stretching to your limits to fit him.  There was the briefest moment of pain before you adjusted.

“Vergil… fuck…”

You leaned down to kiss him as you lifted your hips to drop on him again, gasping against his lips as he impaled you. His hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold, helping to lift you as you gained speed. You reached out to V, weaving your fingers together and leaning on him for added support. Grunts and sighs filled the air, mixing with the sound of slapping flesh as he lifted his hips to meet you, forcing himself even deeper. Vergil brought a hand to where you were joined, finding your clit with ease and helping you chase your peak. He tried different movements and pressure until he found one you liked.

“Right there, that’s it! Ver- Vergil!”

Bursts of white flashed in your vision as you keened his name and exploded into bliss. Every muscle clenched as one, wave after wave of ecstasy rolling through you until you could barely breathe. Vergil and V held you up together as the snowy-haired man ploughed against your shuddering walls, extending your release into an age.

When you finally came back down, you looked down at him with a wide smile. Pride stained his eyes, his lips turned up in a tiny grin of his own. “Told you I’d last as long as necessary.”

You snorted and looked at V. He had one inked hand wrapped around his cock, stroking just enough to stay hard. His eyes were locked on you and Vergil.

“I think it’s about time you joined us, V. Get behind me,” you said. His eyes gleamed in excitement and he positioned himself on Vergil’s legs.

The ocean-eyed man slowed his pace as V reached between you and gathered as much fluid as he could. Fingers rubbed against your second hole, probing within to help you prepare. You relaxed as much as you could, breathing into it as he brought his cock to bear. You pressed against Vergil’s hips to stop his insistent motion and gave V a smile.

He pressed forward at an achingly slow pace. His drawn-out groan was delightful, a euphoric expression on his face.

“Fuck…” the poet murmured.

“Wait until you feel it from this side,” Vergil replied.

You glared at him as V extended his middle finger with a smirk at the other man’s comment. His hips inched forward until they met yours and you marveled at the sensation of being stuffed to the brim by the two men you cared so much about. It was absolute perfection. You flexed your inner muscles around them, feeling every ridge buried in your depths and three voices moaned together in a blissful harmony.

You moved first, shifting your weight forward and bracing on Vergil’s broad chest. His arms came up to help, V’s on your hips. The poet leaned down to plant kisses on every patch of flesh he could reach, his own body moving to mirror yours. You nodded at Vergil when you were ready, and he lifted to join in.

This is incredible…

Heat pooled in your stomach as your trio gathered speed. It took a few minutes to synchronize but you didn’t care, as long as they kept going. Nothing else existed, maybe it never had. It felt like you were flying, never to touch land again.

Every sense filled with evidence of your enjoyment. The air smelled of sweat and sex, a heady perfume to go with the panting sighs and grunts. Beneath you, Vergil’s cheeks were pinker than you’d ever seen them, his eyes glazed over. His hair stuck out in every direction and you reached out to smooth it back, leaning down to kiss him for good measure. His arms cradled you against him and his cock tightened, his peak close.

“Cum for me,” you whispered, burying your face in the crux of his neck.

Vergil’s deep thrusts stuttered as he growled like a wild animal, pulsing in waves and filling you with his seed. His arms trembled, thick veins bulging. You pressed kisses against his neck, murmuring praise and reassurance as he rode out his pleasure. A satisfied smirk twisted his lips and you wiped away the beads of sweat from his forehead, your breath huffing every time V buried himself inside you.

The poet’s hands pressed into your lower back, forcing you into a different angle as he snapped forward. Having him pounding away at your ass right over Vergil while you were looking into his icy gaze set you on fire, bolts of energy zipping across your skin as he coaxed you closer and closer to a second climax.

Vergil brought his hands to your chest, kneading and pinching as he whispered absolute filth, telling you how much he was enjoying the show and that he looked forward to switching places with V next time. His words sent you hurtling over the edge and you wailed their names, arching back as he took your full weight.

The poet cursed, his tattoos a maelstrom as he followed you into paradise. Clouds of black demonic energy floated a mere inch off his skin, an aura of darkness surrounding his oddly pristine flesh and pale hair. He grunted and pulled out to spew his cum across your ass, pumping his length to get every drop. The inky shards sank back into his skin and hair as he panted and sat back on his knees, pushing his hair from his face.

You collapsed into Vergil’s arms, letting him shift you to the side. V crawled over and lied on your other side, still catching his breath. For several minutes, your trio was silent.

Maybe I can handle loving two people at once after all…

[grimmseye]

A Bird in the Hand: Chapter Nine

Read on Ao3 here!

Rating: M

Fandom: Critical Role

Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (eventual),

Chapter Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf, Essek Thelyss, Jester Lavorre

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Molly Rez, Amnesiac Mollymauk, Oh My God They Were Roommates, Acrophobia, Violence, Tarot, Bed-sharing

— — —

Essek goes silent in the days leading up to the peace talks. It's an affair Mollymauk only faintly understands, static-filled memories informing him of something, some tension in the air of impending violence and fear. There's a memory of his own voice urging them to get out, there's a reason he doesn't want a Name, attention is fine but being known is not.

This is going to determine the immediate fate of two countries. The lives of their soldiers, thrown to the slaughter for a cause Mollymauk could not comprehend, could be saved. And that was good, yes, in a distant and grand sort of way. It was too big for him to fit it into a scope he could understand.

Essek, he was sure, knew that scope, and yet Mollymauk doubted that was the source of his stress. There was something else under the surface, that connected to the way his ears started to droop when the conversation swung to the Mighty Nein. More concerning, though,was the fact that Essek had started to disappear. Where Mollymauk had previously heard a muffled voice from the tower's door, there was now silence, the kind that emerged from an absence of a person to be quiet. By the time Mollymauk took notice of it, the absences were regular enough to be timed.

Let the world feel a shudder wrack its spine when Mollymauk Tealeaf produced the beginnings of a plan.

It would never go beyond those beginnings — he wasn't the planning sort. Essek disappeared, which meant that his room was empty and unguarded, which meant that if Mollymauk was going to break into his space, it would have to be now.

He didn't even wait to be sure. A minute spent double checking was a minute sooner Essek would return, so the moment that silence made itself known, Mollymauk was already crossing the tower's bridge. He checked the lock for anything that would explode if he tried to pick it, found nothing, and grinned to himself as he slipped a homemade set of thieves tools into the slot.

Molly's triumph was short-lived. The hook found nothing, no tumblers to leverage into place. It was like the inside was perfectly smooth, but when he tried the knob, it refused to turn.

A grimace stole his face. "Wizards," he growled. A vague sense of someone disappearing in the middle of a fight, off to who the fuck knows where — but that hadn't been a wizard, had it, no, that was the odd drawling voice that asked after Molly's swords and he didn't feel a lick of guilt spinning a lie on the spot because it made relief light in Fjord's eyes and wasn't that a good thing, better to comfort someone with a lie than torment them with a meaningless truth.

Fjord. Taller than Molly with a frame that suggested a strength he really didn't have. Sneaking up behind him and dunking his head under the water and laughing as the man began to sputter, that'll show him. Warmth in the chest as — that was the wizard, yes, the one who froze amid fire and didn't even know how to skim off the top — as someone offered a gorgeous sword to him that let him flit out of one space and into another. "Mister Mollymauk."

"Mister Caleb."

The words fell from his lips, thick as honey. His hand slipped from the doorknob, and he felt a soreness in his palm. How long had he been gripping it?

Mollymauk shook his head to clear it, grinding his thumb against his temple. Door was locked, so —

Windows. He could always get in through a window.

The brick of the towers were uneven enough to climb, though falling from that height without a net to catch him would not end well. Right about now he would kill for a sword that let him teleport. Or Nott's feather spell to catch his fall. Yasha, who he knew would throw herself off a ledge to catch him, and be just fine when she hit the ground.

His chest felt tight, the aching loneliness clawing to the surface. Suddenly he regretted not telling them, these people who were blurred in his mind but make the space beneath his ribs feel hollow.

He drew a sharp breath. The Nein meant something to him. Essek, no matter how much Molly liked the man, was doing something to harm them.

The first brick was cold under his hand. He wasn't the strongest individual, but he knew how to climb. Molly kept himself level with the bridge so if he did lose his grip, he wouldn't fall all the way to the ground below. His muscles ached far sooner than he would prefer. He might have to start doing strength training on top of his stretches. But his hooves took to the narrow brick, his tail working as a counterbalance, and it was only in the moments where he had to ease away from the safety net of the bridge that his pulse really began to race.

The window was positioned where a drop would send him directly to the ground. Much as Molly wanted to stop and catch his breath, freezing now wasn't an option. He dragged in slow breaths to try to calm his palpitating heart. Hand then foot then hand then foot. Sweat on his fingers made his grip slide, panic washing cold over his back as he seized the brick and panted against it. The pitching sensation continued, his body screaming at him for this foolishness. He'd dug himself out of the dirt twice only to break himself from a fall. It likely wouldn't even kill him, just crush his bones, sternum crunched into his lungs for him to bleed out his mouth until he either expired or Essek returned to find him.

He nearly sobbed when he felt the cold of the window against his fingertips. Molly braced his hand against it, palm sliding over the glass with a squeak. Nausea rose in his throat. Did the window even open? Was it locked, or just stuck from disuse?

Grinding his teeth, Mollymauk braced as much weight as he dared against that hand, trying to muster the leverage to force the window up — gods he'd break it it necessary —

A loud crack split the air. Molly's hand slipped.

He watched the tower fall away and blur, too quick to feel anything but shock as he hit empty air. And then something else hit him, knocking the wind out of him as he tumbled, stars spinning to earth before coming to a halt clutched in Essek's arms.

Molly wheezed and clung to him, the position awkward — Essek's shoulder dug just between his ribs, but he was more than happy to sling legs around his waist and claw at his mantel for a handful of material. In the haze of his manic vision, he saw branches of light — spectral wings that extended from Essek's shoulder blades, flapping periodically to keep them aloft.

The descent made Molly squeak and cling tighter. Sweat was dripping from his temples, shaking violently as Essek stooped down to force his hooves onto solid earth with a grunt of exertion. Even then, Mollymauk didn't let go of him, just clinging to his arms instead.

Essek yanked himself away. Molly let him go, wrapping his arms around himself. He forced a grin, saying, "Good — g-good save, Mister Thelyss."

Molly had never seen anger on Essek's face before. It was a quiet thing, simmering beneath a frigid surface. The pin of his ears, the tremor in his hands, the clench of his jaw, those were the things that tipped Molly off to just how badly he'd fucked up here.

"What were you doing?" Essek asked, voice dangerously steady.

Mollymauk even considered telling the truth. Then he remembered how Essek had physically crushed a person's body into an unrecognizable mash, and said, "Well — let me tell you — that was not worth it." It let his brain race ahead as he lifted a finger and played up his breathless state. Not snooping, not spying, just — "I even forgot to actually bring the paints with me."

"The —" Essek's anger faltered. "Paints?"

Molly gave him a grin, rubbing the back of his neck. His legs were trembling too violently to remain upright, and he let himself collapse into the grass instead. Play up the pity angle. He's just a frightened, helpless tiefling, nothing to see here. "I was gonna paint a dick on your window."

Blue, blue, blue. Blue skin, blue hair, but she danced with every other color. A streak of mischief that Mollymauk adored, and he'd snarl in infernal just to delight in her laughter, the best audience he could ask for.

Essek's eyes took on the same hopeless adoration that Mollymauk felt. His shoulders slumped, and he ran his fingers through his hair. Then again. On the third time, his fingers caught, and he tugged at the white strands, for Molly to push himself upright with a "Whoa, hey —" and then to pitch forward as black spots flitted in his vision.

He landed against Essek again, and wheezed a laugh. "I need to sit down. Like, now. Come on."

Molly grabbed Esseks arm and fell back onto the grass, yanking the drow with him to bully him into lying down. It was tempting to just burrow against his side, bask in pressure and warmth. Instead he just let their arms brush where they splayed in the grass.

"These are expensive clothes," Essek said.

"And you can magic the dirt off them, can't you?" Mollymauk looked to the stars. He wasn't sure if they were different here than in the Empire. He thought he remembered somebody pointing shapes out to him, an art not unlike the cards he dealt. You could be born under certain stars, but Molly didn't know them. No matter how many times the lines were traced, he only saw a field of pinprick lights.

"That was stupid, you know," Essek murmured. "Climbing the tower. At least Jester can catch herself if she falls."

Mollymauk scoffed. "Who needs magic? Well, their own magic, anyway. Apparently I've got a wizard at my beck and call."

"Oh, gods," Essek rasped, and Molly cackled. "I should have let you hit the ground."

"It was your fault I lost my grip, anyway," Molly snorted. "Is teleporting always that loud?"

"Yes. Something to do with the displacement of air." Essek raised a hand, curling his fingers through the air. "If you had not been scaling my tower, you would not have fallen."

"Now let's not go pointing fingers." Molly smirked as he grabbed Essek's hand to force it back down to the grass.

The moon smiled down at them, lopsided and thin. A cloud skimmed past it, stealing away the light that bathed them. Mollymauk wasn't particularly devout, but he had to wonder if it wasn't Her blessing.

The Peace Talks arrived almost without Mollymauk's awareness. They were only heralded but the shift in Essek's attitude, from a quiet that was uncharacteristic even for him to snappish remarks, banishing Mollymauk from any space the two of them just happened to end up in together. That was only when he made himself visible at all, still shutting himself away in his towers, shielded from prying eyes.

Mollymauk still wished he'd managed to get in, but whatever was coming, he would have no say in it. And really, that was just fine. Molly really wasn't one to interfere, only to react.

Just waiting had his nerves twisting up, and he found himself slipping things into a bag throughout the day. Swords in their scabbards, the sturdier outfits Essek bought him, gold pieces stolen unabashedly from a cloak left hanging up to be washed later. He hardly realized he was doing it until there was no more room, and he was having to stretch the chord to fit it around the button.

A sigh pushed from his chest. Mollymauk set the bag aside and reached for his supplies. He had a card to make.

The Eclipse was joined with Fractures. Upright, it meant convergence, the joining of multiple parts. Reversed, it was separation, a breaking point. One of the more straightforward symbols, and one that felt right as he began to sketch the pieces.

The sun, and the two moons, overlapping in a line of three. At the edges where they met, they shattered.

Molly, Molly, what does that one mean, is that you?

He was smiling before he looked up. Jester was practically sprawled over his back, her hands falling on his shoulders as she peered at the cards he'd laid out.

"Naw," he grinned. "It's us."

He was being facetious, but there was a sliver of truth tucked into it. Jester gasped, "Us? Us like you and me or like all of us?" A grin spread across her face as she pressed her cheek to his. "Molly," she giggled, saying his name like Mawl-ee with that curling accent of hers, "do you have a crush on me?"

Her giggling said it was a joke but he purred, "You know I do, dear." And again, he sort of meant it. Not really, not like how she obviously pined over Mister Fjord, but Mollymauk gave his heart easily, and if almost anyone of this ragtag group wanted to hold his hand or take him to bed, he'd be happy to follow along.

"Okay okay okay, but you only have one," Jester points out. "What are the rest?"

"You want a full reading?"

He was already reaching for his cards as Jester swept a chair to his side and threw herself into it, tail curling with excitement. "Of course," she scoffed, and then perked up. "But first, what's that one?"

"The Eclipse," Mollymauk told her. "So if you take this as the past for the Mighty Nein, this is very literally just our meeting. It's the convergence of multiple parts into a singular whole, see? Now, for present..."

He spread the remainder of his deck on the table. Molly reached for her, saying, "Here, take my hand. Since this is for all of us, the more guiding our hands, the better." And if maybe he nudged them to his own pick, all that mattered was that Jester didn't realize.

He guided her hand to the middle of the arc, then drew and flipped a card. This one was an image of two coins, one gold and one silver, balanced on opposite ends of a scale. "The Coin," he announced. "Reversed. Also known as Risk. Things are uncertain right now. We may be headed for misfortune — but it's not defined just yet."

"What kind of misfortune?" Jester asked.

"Well, they're not exact," Molly chuckled. "But maybe the Future will tell us?"

"Oh!" Jester perked up. "Can I pick it?"

Molly laughed and leaned back, offering her the table. With Eclipse out of the way — and more importantly, Fractures — there wasn't much that could give her a terrible reading —

Jester pulled a card towards the end of the deck, flipping it with a "Hah!" and all but slamming the card on the table.

Even though he was the one to make it, Mollymauk felt his gut twist at the sight.

"The Broken," he announced. The image looked like a web, twisted, jagged spokes of a wheel that ran into one another. "Upright, this card calls for..." Tragedy, specifically. Not always, but often. "Harrowing times. Loss. It looks like we've got our work cut out for us, Jes."

Molly looked at her, feeling his heart skip at the crestfallen expression on her face. He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. "So it's good we're together, yeah?" He cajoled, bumping his shoulder into hers until she started giggling.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Molly." She stood up and, sensing the cue, Molly went with her. It was entirely unsurprising when she wrapped her arms around him. Their tails twined together, mutual purrs rumbling in their chests as they swayed back and forth. Then she stepped back, going, "Okay okay okay. Do me, now!"

"I already gave you a reading."

"Yeah but that was age-s ago!"

"Alright, alright, but it'll cost you."

The cracking sound of a teleportation spell snapped Molly out of his reverie. He gasped, sitting bolt upright and gouging into his work. His face was wet. The card was ruined.

Cussing, Molly wiped at his eyes. He tossed the card aside, not the least bit satisfied by its tap against the wall as he headed for the door.

Night had long since fallen, keeping the halls dark as he nudged the door open. From below, a sound made his heart skip: a heavy thud, and rasping breath.

Molly froze for just a second, then grabbed one sword before rushing downstairs. The moment he hit them, he could make out Essek's collapsed form, small and shaking. Snippets of his voice were muffled by the curl of his own body, unintelligible muttering between panting breaths.

"Essek," Molly started, "what the hell —"

"Leave me alone, Mollymauk." His voice was a whisper. Essek draw a sharp breath and started to force himself to his feet, the legs quaking so violently they threatened to give out.

"You're a wreck," he shot back, reaching for Essek's arm. "You —"

Essek snarled. Gravity impacted Molly's chest, spots flying in his eyes as he was clawed away from Essek. He collided with a table, the panel of glass screaming against its metal stand, the sound of a crunch as pressure fractured it down the middle. A hot, throbbing pain settled in his back where he'd impacted.

Molly stared at Essek, where the drow stood, a hand still outstretched. His eyes were wide, pupils blown and ears pinned back. A croaking down dragged from his throat.

Molly groaned and staggered to his hooves. His hand dipped to the handle of his scimitar, lips peeling back as he glared at Essek through narrowed eyes.

"Mollymauk," Essek panted, a tinge of shock in his voice. His hand wavered and then fell, he took an aborted step forward.

Molly prowled towards him. Essek gave no fight as Molly drew his sword and walked him back against the door. Essek's feet were flat on the tile, putting him low enough for Molly to crane his head up into his face.

"Are you done," he asked, voice dripping with derision. "Or do you have to break something else to feel better?"

It was satisfying to watch the shame drip into Essek's face, a horrified light behind his eyes. He didn't speak, only stared, chest heaving.

It was a testament to how rattled Essek had to be that he didn't put up a fight. Molly didn't think he could take him one on one. The man could skip through the air, twist his mind like puddy, turn his body into a puppet on strings if he needed to. But he only shrank against the wall, lips trembling, looking an inch away from crying.

Molly could push him that extra inch.

"Answer the question."

"I'm — sorry —"

Molly cut off his gulping with a, "I didn't ask if you were sorry. I asked if you were done with your tantrum." He pressed a hand to Essek's sternum, intentionally trapping him against the wall. "Well?"

Embarrassment flooded Essek's cheeks, staining his ears as he looked away. "Yes," he rasped. "I... I am done. And I am sorry."

"Care to explain what the fuck that was about?"

Essek took another breath, sharp and shallow. A second. A third. Molly could feel his heart pounding under his palm.

"I..." His voice faltered, and he licked his lips. "I. Today. The Nein discovered my betrayal. That... that I stole one of the Beacons of the Dynasty, and handed it over to the Empire to be studied."

Mollymauk studied his face, Essek's pale moon pupils. There was a sheen to them, not yet crying, but close. He could hear each breath, pulling in and hissing out, feel the heaving us his pulse. He eased up on the pressure, letting Essek stagger away from the wall.

"Alright," Molly said, "that certainly sounds like a lot."

Essek glowered. "You don't even know what that means," he sneered.

Mollymauk bared his teeth in return. "Enlighten me, then."

It didn't take much. He remembered what the Dynasty had done to retrieve their Beacon, the collapse and the panic, the call to war. Essek just drew the line between the dots Molly already had.

As they spoke, more and more of that brief spark of life drained out of Essek. He sagged against the wall, cheek turned away from Mollymauk to speak to the air beside him.

It was bad. It was really, really bad. Worse than anything Mollymauk had forgiven before. Still, he listened, as Essek's voice shook through each word, until they broke into a sharp sound and lapsed into silence. And then it was just Essek, eyes squeezed shut, hands clutching at the wall as he gasped for breath.

Mollymauk drank the image in, and let out a sigh. "Okay," he murmured. "C'mere." He cupped Essek's jaw, drawing him down to press his lips to his forehead. A gasped wrenched from Essek's throat, and Molly hushed him. "Shhhh," he soothed. "Shhhh-shhhh-shhhh. Come on."

Mollymauk took him by the arm, guiding him up the steps. It was slow going with how Essek trembled, and when they reached his bedroom door, Molly had to remind him to open it. Whatever enchantment kept Molly from breaking in parted the way for Essek.

His room was exquisite. Four-poster bed, large enough to comfortably fit two, maybe three. Satin pillows, dramatic curtains framing the window, a shelf of organized components, the rest heavy with books. A bathroom was attached, and gods did Molly want to spy on what was in there.

That was a good idea, actually.

"Have you eaten anything?" Molly asked, unsurprised when Essek shook his head. He didn't say anything else for the next few minutes. Instead, it was spent figuring out how to undo his mantel. First the material, falling away heavier than expected. The metal that guarded his neck came apart in two pieces. Then earrings, Essek's ears twitching away from his touch. Essek stood still, letting him do as he pleased.

"Can you get the rest?" Molly asked, tugging his shirt for emphasis.

Essek took a solid moment to process it, and gave a single nod. He reached slowly for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

"Great," Molly smiled. He cupped Essek's face, making sure their gazes met. "You take a shower. Just rinse off, you don't have to do anything else. I'll be back up with dinner for you. Alright?"

"... Alright."

"Wonderful." Molly gave his cheek a solid pat and pushed him towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He didn't wait to head down the stairs, but listened for the spray of water as he scrapped a meal together.

He made two trips, one for a pitcher of water and glasses, the other for two bowls of soup. By that point, Essek had emerged from the shower, dressed in a long robe and seated on the bed, staring at the floor. He was mostly dry, but his hair was messier, so Mollymauk had to assume he'd magicked the water off. That was a good sign.

Molly set one bowl down on a dresser to click his fingers. "Hey," he said, voice sharp in a way that wasn't meant to snap, just to catch his attention. Essek glanced up, and Molly handed the bowl over. "That's yours. Eat as much as you can."

It was good soup. Simple, but good. That was most of what Molly knew how to make.

The first few bites were a visible effort, but they seemed to awaken Essek's hunger, as he hurried through the bowl, only breaking to take sips of water. When their bowls were empty, Molly set them aside and banished Essek to the sink to brush his teeth, vanishing to do his own.

He ended up having to pull Essek away from the mirror with a huff of, "Come on, no getting existential before bed."

When he pulled the covers back, Essek only stared at him. A raised eyebrow got an explanation: "I do not need to sleep."

Mollymauk squinted at him. "Right." He drew the word out. "You meditate. Well. Can you meditate laying down? Like, you have a bed. If you're not using it, then you will give it to me. Capiche?"

Essek stared through him for another few moments before absently nodding, and climbing into the bed, letting Molly pull the covers up around him.

"There we go," Molly smiled. "Snug as a bug in a rug."

"A bug in a rug would likely be hopelessly lost," Essek murmured. His eyelids were already drooping.

"Oh hush," Molly snorted. He hesitated for only a moment before saying, "Now, I'm gonna ask you a question here. No judgement, alright?"

Essek heaved a sigh. "That is always a good start."

"I said hush, no more sass." Molly flapped a hand. "Do you want me to stay here tonight?"

That got his attention. He looked more alert than he'd been since leaving this morning, just gazing at Mollymauk without saying a word.

Molly gave a faint smile. "Let's make this easier. Do you want me to leave?"

A moment's pause, and then Essek shook his head.

"Great. Will you flip out if I get in the bed next to you?"

Another shake, this one with an eye-roll to boot.

"Excellent," Molly purred, and wasted no time in sliding into the bed. He immediately seized a pillow to bunch under his head, stretching out with pleased sound. "Oh, fuck, this is wasted on you. Wasted." What was the nicest bed Molly had ever slept on? It didn't matter, this won.

Essek gave a quiet, breathy sort of laugh. "Your turn to hush," he murmured. "I... am exhausted." And it showed.

Molly made a show of theatrical offense, before settling back down and tucking just one lock of loose white hair back into place. "Alright, then. Goodnight, Mister Thelyss."

The sounds of their breaths became the ambience of the room, amid the cool breeze outside, nighttime dwellers singing their songs. Amid it all, Molly very nearly missed Essek's whisper, muffled and half-slurred as it was: "Goodnight, Mister Tealeaf."

[defiblover27]

Last Waltz

The dance world is a harsh and short career for anyone that is brave, or lucky enough, to peruse it. Natalie had been dancing since she was five years old and had recently made it to the place of principal dancer for the San Francisco Ballet.  Natalie was a very skinny five foot five woman with long black hair and dark brown eyes.  The company was on their US tour and Natalie was preparing for another performance.  She put on her white leotard and white tutu and finally her pointe shoes.  Her black hair was up in a bun and all of her hair was slicked back.  Natalie’s long legs were covered in her pink tights.  The performance went on perfectly and it was time for the last movement.  Natalie was on stage alone waltzing across the floor.  Suddenly Natalie fell to the ground, the audience thought that it was just a part of the character that she was portraying.  The cast knew better, they quickly lowered the curtain and rushed to aid their principal dancer.  One of the crew members dialed 911 well the others saw what they could do to help.  Natalie was in a panic and was scared of what just happened.  She had asthma as a kid but had never experienced anything like this before.  Sara and Dave were the unit that were dispatched to the call they had a rookie paramedic with them for his first night on the job named Jake.  Upon arrival Natalie was lying on the ground gasping for air and clinging to life.  Her small body began convulsing on the floor as her body began to give out.  The seizures subsided after a few moments and her body fell limp. Dave put his two fingers on her neck to find a pulse but couldn't find any.  “I can’t find a pulse, start CPR and I’ll bag.”  Dave said.  Sara centered her hands in between the ballerinas breasts and began compressing her chest.  Dave grabbed the orange ambu bag and sealed it onto her face.  Every few seconds Dave squeezed the bag to give Natalie air.  After two rounds of CPR Dave took his shears and snipped down her white leotard to reveal her super skinny abdomen and A cup breasts.  Dave took over compressions and Sara instructed Jake to take over ventilation while she did what she could.  Sara attached the leads to Natalie’s bare chest and started an IV in her left arm.  As the monitor began to find any kind of rhythm it showed V-fib.  Sara took out the Zoll AED pads that were connected by a blue piece that went directly over the center of the sternum.  Sara charged the unit to 200 Joules, as the unit sounded off that it was charged Dave and Jake backed away.  Sara pressed the red shock button which made Natalie’s small breasts shake and her body to twitch slightly.  The shock caused Natalie’s heart to return to asystole on the monitor.  “We need to get her to the hospital asap.”  They grabbed the stretcher and rolled her onto the backboard before placing her on the stretcher.  Jake took over compressions as they grabbed all of their equipment and rolled her out to the ambulance.

As they loaded her into the back Sara decided to drive while Dave and Jake worked on Natalie.  As they pulled away from the performance venue Natalie was still in asystole.  Jake was doing compressions while Dave intubated and pushed a round of epi.  After a few moments the drugs started taking effect and Dave charged the AED to 300.  As the unit charged they backed away and shocked her for the second time.  Natalie’s chest rose slightly off of the stretcher and then came back down.  The shock had no effect and Natalie stayed in V-fib.  Dave took over compressions as the unit was charged again to 360.  With each compression Natalie’s chest caved in and her stomach extended slightly.  Natalie was so skinny that you could see the outline of her ribs and could see them compress while she was receiving CPR.  The unit charged and once again shocked Natalie.  Her feet kicked off the stretcher slightly and then her head lolled to the side.  The ambulance filled with the sharp tone of asystole as Natalie once again flatlined.  Jake pounded away at Natalie’s chest as he grew desperate to save his first patient.  Each compression was read on the monitor as the green line bounced up and down with her chest.  Dave pushed another round of drugs and continued to ventilate her.  Dave opened up Natalie’s mouth and slid the metal blade in before placing the ET tube down her throat.  The tube was secured with the blue holder and the resuscitation efforts were resumed.  The unit was charged to 360 again and a fourth shock was delivered.  Natalie’s pointe shoes clicked together as her legs lifted off the stretcher slightly.  The shock had no effect and CPR was resumed as the ambulance swung into the bay of the emergency room.

As she was rolled into the Emergency Room Natalie was under intense CPR.  They rushed her down the hallway towards the trauma room.  The nurses and other patients caught a short glimpse and were shocked that such a healthy woman was dying on the gurney.  As they whipped into the trauma room Sara gave the update. “Twenty seven year old female, collapsed during a performance she began convulsing upon arrival and then went into cardiac arrest.  We have performed continuous CPR and have shocked her four times.  She has converted between V-fib and asystole the entire way here.  We have given epi and Adrenalin.  She is intubated with a size 7 tube.”  Dr. Micheal began to take over “Alright lets lift on three, one two three”  The backboard was moved from the gurney onto the hospitals gurney.  The leads were connected to the monitors and showed V-fib.  “Charge to 360 and prepare to shock.”   The unit whined to life as Dr. Micheal removed the paddles and a nurse squirt conductive gel onto one of them.  After the unit charged he rubbed the paddles together to spread the gel.  He placed one just above the center of her chest and the other on her lower right side.  The team backed away.  “We’re all clear, shocking”.  Natalie’s small body jumped off the gurney and in a moment came crashing back down. The monitors spiked with the shock and then continued in a flat line.  The nurse centered their hands in between her breasts and pounded away rhythmically again.  Natalie’s entire body shook which each compression.  Her pointe shoes would click together every so often as her feet swung back and forth.  Her chest caved in each time the nurse pushed down on her chest.  The wheezing of the ambu bag became rhythmic as each squeeze delivered much needed air.  A round of cardiac drugs was pushed through the IV port and after a few more moments and rounds of CPR the green line started to bounce and show V-fib.  The gel was squirted onto the paddles once again as the unit charged to 360.  The paddles were placed on her bare chest and as everyone cleared off her body flew into the air and came crashing back down again.  The shock caused no change so compressions were resumed as the unit charged again.  The unit sounded off as they were placed back on her chest.  As the button were pressed Natalie’s long legs jolted out to the side and her arms flailed outward.  This shock caused Natalie to convert back into asystole as the green line went flat on the monitor.  “Prep a tracheotomy tray and push another round of epi please.”  Dr. Michael commanded his medical team.  Betadine was squirted over her left breast and her chest as aggressive CPR continued.  Dr. Michael took the scalpel and made the initial incision.  Blood began to pour onto the table and onto the floor as her chest was cut open.  There was a set of loud pops as Dr. Michael cracked her ribs in order to reach her dying heart.  The bone fragments were placed into a metal tin next to the bed.  Dr. Michael reached his hands into her chest and felt her heart.  Her heart was completely still.  He ordered another round of drugs as he began to squeeze her heart with his own hands rhythmically.  The monitor beeped in tune with each internal compression.  Her body now laid still on the table without the extreme force of CPR.  After a minute he let go and her heart began twitching.  Natalie had finally converted into V-fib so the internal paddles were readied.  The paddles were long spoon like metal rods.  He placed them into her chest and put them around her heart.  They defib was charged to 20 joules.  As they let go of the ambu bag and let it hang he pressed the shock buttons on the paddles and her body twitched slightly on the table.  There was no change so the defib was charged again to 30 joules and he used one hand to compress her heart as the defib was charged.  The paddles were placed back into her chest and the shock was delivered.  This caused her breasts to shake and her arms to flail out slightly.  The second internal shock had the same effect so they were charged for a third time.  Michael was growing desperate and didn’t know what else to do.  The defib alerted that it was charged to 30 joules so Dr. Michael placed the paddles directly onto her heart for the third time.  “Come on third times the charm”  He whispered to himself.  The shock was delivered as her arms and legs flailed slightly as her chest barely rose off of the table.  He looked to the monitor to see any effect.  The green line on the heart monitor traced across the screen flat as the monitor once again filled the room with a high pitched screech.  Dr. Michael slowly removed the bloody paddles and placed them on the crash cart.  He took out a penlight and shined it into her dark brown eyes that were now fixed and dilated. “Time of death 9:47 pm.  Thank you everyone for your assistance.”  Dr. Michael left the room as he went to talk to anyone who arrived for Natalie.  The nurses detached the ambu bag and the leads from her bare and bloodied chest.  They tried their best to get some of the blood off the floor.  A nurse unlaced her pointe shoes which revealed her long feet.  She placed a toe tag that draped down her foot.  Finally they placed a white sheet over her bare body.  Natalie’s sudden death came as a surprise to all including the medical team that desperately attempted to save her life.

[newgrean]

CIA 1.8

Hi everyone,

       Instead of telling the story through a comic for this entry of the Crystal Intelligence Agency, I tried out some written storytelling! I’ll get back to the comic once I have more time and access to my drawing tools, but for now, please enjoy CIA 1.8!

        To read the story on Archive of Our Own, click here!

        To read the story on Fanfiction.net, click here!

Masterlist | 1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3 | 1.4 | 1.5 | 1.6 | 1.7 | 1.8

“So you made these?” Opal said, peering curiously at the long strands of plant fibers twisted together.

“Absolutely!” Pyrite replied, admiring her work. “They are essentially the same as the cables back on Homeworld, but can be fabricated without the assistance of any machinery!”

“That’s super cool, Pyrite,” Blue said, leaning in, an earnest smile on her lips.

“Yeah, we use those a lot around the base, but we can talk about that later,” Dravite interjected. “For now, I want to make sure you two are up to speed on what we do here. How much did Aragonite already tell you?”

Blue thought back to the amber gem’s silence as they had traveled through the warp pads to arrive in this underground cavern. “She didn’t say a whole lot. She really insisted on us, well, me at least, keeping quiet about everything we were doing.” Once Blue and Aragonite had gotten away from the headquarters, the stoic gem had hardly spoken.

Opal added, “Yeah, it was mostly the same for me. What do you all do here?”

Dravite nodded, “Good, Aragonite is smart, she wasn’t keeping you in the dark for no reason. If any Homeworld gems had followed you here, things would’ve gotten pretty tricky.” Her eyes glanced up to the corner of the cavern, where several brown and gold bubbles floated. Silhouettes of gemstones hung in the center of each one. Dravite quickly turned her attention back to the two new recruits.

“As you two know, the Crystal Gems are really starting to grow. We’re starting to push back Homeworld’s forces and make Earth a place where gems can live without having to worry about what they are supposed to be, instead making it a place where they can be who they want to be.” Pyrite broke into a wide smile as Dravite continued.

“But in order for us to hold off Homeworld, we need more than just numbers.”

Blue’s brow furrowed, and she glanced at Opal, whose face remained neutral, “What else do we need?”

“We need intelligence,” Pyrite said, stepping forward. Opal nodded. “That is to say, we need all the information we can gather about our enemies and their plans in this conflict.”

Dravite nodded as well, “Exactly. There is no reason to deny it: Homeworld’s forces are more skilled than we are. Yeah, we have passion, and we have something to fight for, but most of Homeworld’s elite warriors and strategists aren’t the ones defecting to our side.”

“Why not?” asked Blue.

Opal took this moment to cut in, “They don’t need Earth. Most members of the Crystal Gems are gems who feel like they’ve been pushed aside by Homeworld. The best of Homeworld’s forces, though, they’re the ones who are getting praise and recognition. They are the ones who are actually doing what they’re made to do.”

“...Oh, right,” Blue replied.

Dravite spoke, “That’s right, Opal. But none of that’s stopped us yet. That’s the whole point of this rebellion, to fight back with whatever we can. And that’s what we’re doing in the realm of intelligence-gathering as well.”

She continued, “Back near the beginning of the war, Rose Quartz started setting up the Crystal Intelligence Agency. It was a small group of gems who specialized in covert missions to gather intel about what Homeworld was planning. The organization helps keep us, if not one step ahead of, then at least one step beside Homeworld’s strategists. The organization grew as the rebellion did, and we are the third facet of the Crystal Intelligence Agency-”

“Abbreviated to C.I.A., if you will,” Pyrite added.

“Right, C.I.A.” Dravite corrected herself.

“What do the first and second facets do?” Opal asked.

“Well…” Dravite started, sharing a look with Pyrite.

Pyrite spoke, “Well, the lower the facet number, the more difficult the missions. Understandably, facet two handles assignments that Rose Quartz feels we are not best suited to.” At the mention of facet two, Dravite eyes seemed to harden, though she kept her gaze on Pyrite.

“Facet one, well, I must admit that I have never met a member of facet one. But we can logically assume that they facilitate the most high-stealth, high-risk operations. Some C.I.A. members are of the belief that being unaware of the identities of facet one’s members is a benefit to us. For if we were to be captured by Homeworld, they would have no way to pry that intelligence from our lips,” Pyrite explained, her smile a bit reduced by the grimness of her words.

Blue’s eyes widened. Dravite took notice of her uneasiness, “Look,” she said, her tone gentle, “This isn’t going to be an easy job. But honestly? There aren’t any easy jobs in this fight. Someone higher up than us decided that you two were cut out for this.” She crossed her arms and the corner of her mouth turned up, “And honestly, if Aragonite had seen something to make her really worry about you two being here, she would have warped you right back to headquarters and had someone reassign you.”

“Very true! Aragonite does what she wants,” Pyrite laughed. Opal smiled, and Blue’s fearful features softened a little.

“Okay, let’s show you around the base a little bit,” Dravite said.

---

Blue had been pretty impressed with the base when she first arrived. It wasn’t everyday that she fell fifty feet down a hidden tube in the middle of an organic biome on an unfamiliar planet. Seeing a beautiful, hewn, almost primitive cavern at its base had only added to her surprise. Back on Homeworld, everything was geometric. Buildings, floors, walls, and every other structure was made of intricately faceted, cold metal. If there were curves, they served a design purpose and were made with obvious mathematical intent. Blue would know best, she was a low-level architect back on Homeworld. Maybe architect wasn’t the right word. She, along with all the other turquoises back home, were made to ornament gem structures with faceted sculptures and designs that conformed to the standards of design perfection.

But down here, in this rebel base, everything was almost sloppy. The walls were curved and rough, as if they had been dug out in a hurry. The technology looked like it had been cobbled together from pieces of destroyed Homeworld ships. The grain of the Earth’s natural minerals formed an unorganized, but strangely beautiful pattern on the uneven surface of the wall. Much like the rest of Earth, this room could only be described as organic.

“Hey Blue,” came Opal’s voice.

Blue snapped out of her transfixion with the room, “Hm? Sorry, yeah, I’m coming,” she said, hurrying to the large circle which covered a fourth of the room by the row of doors, one of which the other Turquoise had come out of earlier. The circle of metal was surrounded by dashed warning lines, and had four seams which split it into four equal slices with a small diamond in the middle covering each slice’s point. The image of a rose, the Crystal Gems’ symbol, was painted over this diamond.

“This is the entrance to our training room,” explained Dravite. “You two are going to spend a lot of time here sparring with Pyrite.”

“Indeed. It is a bit of a trick to open, though. Allow me to demonstrate,” Pyrite explained. She walked to the rose symbol in the middle of the wide disc and bent down. “I believe this used to be an upright door, but we repurposed it, just as we did most of our technology down here. You simply use your gem to-” as her hand spread over the rose, the metallic stone on her temple glowed a bright yellow. The diamond plate under the rose shone as well and the four sections of the door slid quickly open underneath the other three gems’ feet. Pyrite and Dravite dropped to the floor of the spacious rectangular room below gracefully, but Opal and Blue were caught unaware and crashed haphazardly onto the stone.

“Ah,” Pyrite laughed, “Yes. That is the trick. My apologies.”

“It’s fine,” Blue said as she and Opal picked themselves up. They took stock of the room around them. It was also hewn from the earth with large, rough slopes. The training area extended to be about half the size of the upper room, and had a small door on one of the narrower walls. The wall was already rather rough, but seemed to have many additional chunks and slashes carved out of it, most likely from earlier training sessions.

“Is it safe for me to assume that neither of you had much combat experience before you joined the Crystal Gems?” Pyrite asked.

“Yeah, that first day that we joined was the only time I had ever done any real fighting,” Opal replied. Blue nodded in agreement.

“Ah, I will have to hear more about that later,” Pyrite answered, a twinkle in her eye. “Well, do not fear! I myself knew little to nothing of combat until I joined the rebellion, but after training with my mentor, I am proud to say that though I do not have the strength of a Homeworld soldier, few quartzes can outmaneuver me!”

“It’s true,” Dravite smiled, “But you do have a pretty big advantage-”

“Ah, more on that later!” Pyrite interrupted. “Now, Opal, Blue, would you be so kind as to show me what you wield on the battlefield?”

“Okay, sure,” Opal said. She thrust her chest forward as the fiery, violet jewel on her sternum shone. A large, bearded axe with a sturdy, curved handle leapt from her gem and into her hands. As its glow faded, the violet and peach coloring on its grip and blade appeared. She gave it a swing before saying, “Yeah, I guess it’s not a typical ‘spy’ weapon, but I like it.”

“Excellent!” Pyrite exclaimed, “Every good team needs a heavy hitter, and this axe looks like it will help you be ours!” She turned to Blue, “And what do you have for us?”

“Well…” Blue reached up to her cheek where her teal gemstone rested. It glowed brightly and she pulled a long, slender handle from it. As it flashed into existence, the other gems saw that she held a long bo staff. Both ends of the staff were thicker than the middle and were each capped with a circular cabochon version of her gemstone.

“Very nice” Pyrite said, a grin on her face. “This will be exciting! I have mostly been training against Dravite for the past long while. It will be good to fight against some more long-range melee weapons.”

“Oh, what do you use, Dravite? If you don’t mind me asking?” Blue said, looking quizzically toward the second-in-command.

“No, I don’t mind,” Dravite said. She pushed back her jacket on her left side, revealing a brown and amber gem on her waist. It flashed as she pulled a small, faceted knife from it that was no longer than her hand. “I use throwing knives which aren’t always a great matchup against Pyrite’s swords.”

Opal glanced at the solitary, long cutlass at Pyrite’s side, “Swords?”

Pyrite wiggled her eyebrows and reached towards the gem on her left temple with her right hand and towards the cutlass on her hip with her left. From her shining gemstone she pulled a long, slender blade with a domed, ornate guard. “I use a rapier and a cutlass!”

“Uh…” Opal glanced at Blue in confusion, “Isn’t it hard to fight with two different types of swords?”

“Oh, well, at first it was fairly difficult, but I got the hang of it after a while,” Pyrite answered, looking down at her two blades and smiling almost in embarrassment.

Behind her Dravite mouthed, “It’s so hard.”

“But enough of that, let us go up one more time,” Pyrite said, sheathing her cutlass and letting her rapier dissolve into sparks.

---

“So this is, well, Turquoise’s control area, but we all use it for different things,” Dravite explained as she led the gems away from the training room’s door to a corner of the cavern that was lined with computing devices and quietly humming screens. The computers looked to be from a mix of different gem cruisers and dropships. In the upper corner where two walls and the ceiling met rested a very large monitor, but for the moment it was dark.

“Yes, I doubt either of you will need to operate this kind of equipment while you are with us, that is more in Turquoise’s realm. In any case, she may be perturbed if you meddle with it as I believe she has most of it calibrated just like she likes it,” Pyrite said, running her hand over one of the monitors.

Opal leaned over one of the many keyboards, “What exactly does Turquoise do here?”

“Well… So here’s the deal,” Dravite leaned against on of the consoles, “Turquoise doesn’t actually come with us on our missions. She stays here and watches us. She says that as the one who’s in command, she needs to make sure that we are seeing our objectives from every angle.” One of Dravite’s eyebrows twitched slightly as she said this, and Pyrite gave her a look that Blue and Opal couldn’t quite decipher.

“That is correct,” Pyrite said. “She uses these little robonoids to keep her eye on everything in the field.” As she spoke, Pyrite picked a wedge-shaped device from one of the counters. It was about as thick as her forearm and almost as long. It had three spindly legs which ended in wide, circular feet, and its square face had a dark, glass diamond in its center. As Pyrite moved it, the glass diamond blinked red, and its legs flailed for a moment before grabbing onto Pyrite’s arm.

“Aww,” Blue leaned in. “I love it.”

“Is that just a Homeworld surveillance robonoid with a Crystal Gem insignia on it?” Opal asked, moving to poke its eye.

“Indeed it is. Turquoise reprogrammed this one and a few others to follow us on our missions. Their cameras are connected to our screens here.” With that, the large monitor in the corner of the cavern flickered to life and a crackling image of Opal and Blue appeared on the screen.

“These little ladies are pretty useful, I have to say,” Dravite added, gathering the robonoid into her arms. “We’ll have to show you them another time though. Right now I want to show you your rooms.” She switched the robonoid off and laid it on the counter again, the red light of its eye fading back to sleep.

Opal and Blue followed Dravite and Pyrite as they returned to the training room’s large door. On the two walls surrounding the circular door, Opal and Blue noticed three doors they hadn’t seen before. As they looked up, they saw a metal platform affixed higher on the wall which led to three more doors of the same size. Each door had a pointed arch at the top and a white star in the center. One of the ground-level doors had an opaque, greenish-blue, circular gem in the center of its star.

“This is Turquoise’s room. You two probably should steer clear of it, she really likes her privacy,” explained Dravite.

“But these two are yours,” Opal and Blue turned to face the two doors with empty stars as they heard Pyrite’s voice.

“Just put your hand right there, and it’ll recognize you as its owner,” Dravite said, pointing to the blank white stars on the doors which stood before the new recruits.

As they tentatively placed their hands on the stars, both Opal’s and Blue’s gems began to glow. The stars hummed against their palms for a moment, and when they pulled their hands back, they saw flat versions of their gems etched into the middle of their stars. The etched gems remained only for a moment though. Soon glowing lines spread across each door, splitting them into pieces which then withdrew into the doorframe and allowed Opal and Blue to see into the space beyond.

“Come on,” Dravite said, smiling at both of them, “We’ll show you what to do.”

[flightofaqrow]

the raven who doesn’t run

qrow x Libra Stirling ( @banded-muses​ )

[ spin-off from the thread honesty /w Raven  ]

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qrow crawls back down to his stomach, he buries his face into Libra’s thighs and lets his arms drape loosely over her tail and knees. yes, good. back to the blackness, the thoughtlessness, …but warmer this time.

So openly craving attention even if silent in asking for it? Something personal must’ve happened to him between his first and later messages. With a slight shift of her hips her tail is free and much more comfortably positioned now, and she’s settled in for a long sit here with him.

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[txt, 10:07AM] hey Lib. back in town for awhile. [txt, 4:25PM] you around tonight? i could use some company

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[Qrow B] sorry for the delay from this morning, I’m covering rosies cqc classes today

[Qrow B] is it a join the other staff and I for drinks and bad fan fiction reading ‘need some company’ or night in, see where it goes ‘need some company’ because I can do either

[Qrow B] I’ve missed you around so it’s your call

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[txt: Lib] maybe people

…

…

[txt: Lib] no drinks

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[Qrow B] head to my place then and we’ll go from there

[Qrow B] do you remember where the spare key is in case you get there before I do?

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[txt: Lib] yeah. thanks.

qrow lets himself in (after having to try the damn lock three times) and immediately flops face first over the armrest onto the nearest couch. because he is the best house guest ever.

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About twenty minutes later there’s a deep rumble from a motorcycle before the engine falls silent, footsteps following shortly behind. The door lock turns and opens, followed by a few steps, the sound of a bag being set down and zip of boots behind removed.

A hand squeezes the back of his calf gently before putting it as Libra passes off to the kitchen, “Good to see you again, Qrow.”

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he does not move for that entire twenty minutes, but he is very well aware of what her couch smells like. mostly regular old dust, and that’s okay. he is familiar with dust. but also hints of her shampoo, which seemed odd until he remembered how long her hair is.

he would count the stitches on the cushion if it meant not having to think about Raven right now.

‘hey,” his head turns to watch her, and he doesn’t flinch from her touch.

“good to see you too. …safe and back home.”

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Two glasses of water are brought in from the kitchen, one set down on the table beside the couch. Warm fingers reach down to carefully touch his head, waiting a silent permission before they would run through his hair a time or two.

His words spark a small, genuine smile. “It’s been so long, sometimes it doesn’t feel like coming back you know? Despite everything that’s still the same… it all feels so new and raw.”

She walks around him, lifting his legs up so she can sit in the sofa before letting his legs back down across her lap, absently she touches the center of her chest, clothes hiding the neat scar down her sternum. “Logically I know this doesn’t have anything to do with it, but sometimes I have to wonder…”

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“mmh,” qrow lets the tingle on his scalp sink in along with Libra’s words, and grumbles, “yeah, i know that feeling.” long missions kept him from ‘home’ for such extended periods that sometimes things would change in patch, and he never even noticed til later. he didn’t even want to think about once the girls came along and how much bigger they got every time he returned.

he sits, takes a drink of the water while upright, and sets it back down squarely in the middle of the table. he sees where she points. having pieces of other people, she means.

“hey, i’ve seen that kinda essence-sharing crazy, Lib. organ donation ain’t it,” it might sound too rough and insistent for reassurance, but he tries. qrow crawls back down to his stomach, turned with legs on the opposite side of the couch so his head can claim her lap. he buries his face into her thighs and lets his arms drape loosely over her tail and knees.

yes, good. back to the blackness, the thoughtlessness, …but warmer this time.

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How could they be so similar and always seem to be on different pages? She smiles as he settles himself back down on her lap and again begins to run her fingers through his hair in something not too dissimilar to how one would stroke a cat in their lap.

So openly craving attention even if silent in asking for it? Something personal must’ve happened to him between his first and later messages. With a slight shift of her hips her tail is free and much more comfortably positioned now and she’s settled in for a long sit here with him.

Gears whir quietly in her arm as the hand flexes idly before the gloved hand also works it’s way through his hair. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

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qrow tends to be on a different page than most people. his racing mind throws quick darts which landed on different conclusions, or even an entirely different board. and his mouth too often runs without a filter, but Libra’s not the type to call him out unless he truly deserves it.

he presses nothing, pushes nothing. her hand runs steady over his scalp, which means she can’t be too upset. his own emotional intelligence is spent for the day anyway; she has him pegged properly. he soaks in her affection, and even the touch of a machine helps recharge him.

a smirk spreads over her thigh at her question. his head tilts enough to gather flesh between his teeth and nip with the answer he has in mind, but then his stomach growls out a loud and convincing argument. in meeting with Raven, he hasn’t eaten since this morning, and his body got rather used to three square again after his stint in atlas.

arms fold over each other in her lap, and he lifts his head to rest his chin where they cross. “…m’not picky. yanno that. …leftovers? …takeout?”

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Cheeky as always isn’t he? She’s glad some things never change around here at least, Libra doubted that she’d be able to stay sane if Qrow of all people suddenly started treating her different for her arm or her new position. She gives him a light flick on the side of the head at his nibble and laughs warmly. “We can talk dessert after dinner.”

Her robotic hand leaves his hair while the other continues to stroke it back, resting on her chin as her head tilts in thought. Were there leftovers in the fridge? Did she even have anything prepared to make dinner tonight? No, and no. “Takeout it is. I’m craving noodles tonight, sound good to you?”

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qrow knows all people of all kinds. Libra’s the third in his life with a replacement arm. and what does that say about his semblance? not to believe something stupid like he doesn’t even see it anymore, but he’s learned better than to pity or to worry about it. now, maybe, if her thighs made for any less comfortable pillows or tasty of a snack, he’d have some complaints.

but certainly not enough to stop him.

he laughs, even after the day he’s had, finding a taste of the sense of normalcy sought after. he’ll hold her to it. his head turns, to attend better and to offer a little more surface area for her stroking, “noodles, then. i’ll buy. let’s find a menu.”

[tyranttortoise]

Fam. Fam. Why must you hurt me with the soulmates thing? CAN YOU IMAGINE IF IT WERE FRISK AND SANS THO YEAH WELL I DID & now I dislike myself ._. Ples imma just think of the two as soulmates T_T

I’ve had this drabble in my drafts for a week now, and I just realized I never posted it.  So have some Frans soulmate happiness-with-a-dash-of-angst.

Frisk is gendered and aged-up.  If that’s not your cup of tea, keep scrolling.

The first time he felt the Resonance was when Snow Drake had Confronted her on the path to Snowdin, calling out the floating red SOUL into existence.  The moment he saw the color, he balked, momentarily caught off-guard.  None of the other humans he’d seen possessed a SOUL of pure Determination.  

Her SOUL was the most powerful in the entire Underground, and yet… she chose to laugh at Snow Drake’s ice pun, making him feel validated enough to continue on with a sharp smirk on his beak.  The human waved him farewell and continued forward, while Sans pressed the heel of his palm to his sternum.

There was a pull between their SOULs… but that was impossible.  She was a teenage girl, someone who he had promised to protect.  But even with that promise hanging in the air, he couldn’t bring himself to let her out of his sight.  He consoled himself with the constant reminder of the promise, of the fact that Toriel was a name that carried considerable weight (even if the old lady had never admitted her royal standing out-loud), of the fact that he was doing a favor for a dear friend by watching over this human as she joked, flirted, and hugged her way through Confrontation after Confrontation.

He told himself that he was watching her progress as a Judge–that he was waiting for her to slip-up, to reveal her true nature as a human and attack one of them.  

It had nothing to do with the ache in his chest whenever she progressed without him.  Nothing at all.

The first time he acknowledged the possibility of the Soul Resonance being real was when he was staring at her across from the table at the MTT Resort restaurant.  The candlelight flickered between them, casting shadows on his face, emphasizing his hollow sockets while he idly threatened her.  It also made the tears rapidly gathering in her gaze look like glitter.

He felt a pang in his chest, one that had him clenching his jaw and tightening his fists in his pockets.  He tried to play it off–even tried to allude to the fact that he knew of the power that existed in her SOUL–but it still made him feel like garbage.  

“i’m rootin’ for ya, kid.”

He winked and took a short-cut, even as he could hear her chair scraping across the floor, her voice calling out to him, cracking on his name.  Sans stood in the alleyway, his fingers balled in the front of his T-shirt, and clinked the back of his skull against the brick.  

Soulmates with a human?  A human that could bend the rules with Determination alone, no less, and one that was also Determined to go home.  One that would probably end up killing their king and using the power of his SOUL to pass through the barrier and out of his life forever.

Yeah, Sans had that kind of luck.        

The first time he admitted the Resonance was actually real–that they were actually soulmates–was when she smiled at him while they stood on the cliffs, gazing at the setting sun of the Surface.  It had been the first time any of the monsters had seen the sun, the first time their sight had to adjust to something other than fire magic, magical crystals, luminescent foliage, or lava.  Sans couldn’t believe it; after so many failed experiments, so many timeline loops (which he couldn’t remember much of, other than the fact that they gave him a general distrust toward flowers), so much Hopelessness…

A single human teen had managed to befriend nearly every monster in the Underground and subsequently break the barrier to release them from beneath the mountain.  

She looked so radiant, features cast in hues that he’d never even seen Underground.  Her smile was bright, spread even wider than his own grin, and while Toriel proudly set a paw on the human’s back, Frisk reached out and gripped the sleeve of his jacket.  

“You’ve got a weird expression on your face, Sans,” she murmured, trying not to be overheard by Toriel as the goat woman conversed with her ex.      

Sans tried to amend his expression.  "heh, guess you could say something just dawned on me.“

Frisk laughed, her fingers still lingering on his jacket.  Did she feel it, too?  Could humans feel the connection like he could?

“Pretty sure the sun’s setting.”

“welp, that’s a downer.”

She laughed harder, and he finally gave in and let himself feel the Resonance without trying to fight it.  This human–his human, the possessive part of his mind whispered–had managed to do the impossible.

She’d given him HoPe again.

[ R E S E T ]

Does she remember the life they had together on the Surface?  The years they spent together– gone?

Is she even in there?

The hardest thing Sans ever had to do was to watch her stride through the Underground, wearing that empty smile.  It didn’t belong on her face.  She didn’t laugh at his jokes, and even though he tried so hard to get her to turn back, she refused.

She was Determined.

He didn’t want to stop her.  

But once she went through Papyrus, he knew that wasn’t her.

Like a coward, he watched her until the end, grieving the loss of both his soulmate and his brother.  He should have stopped her.  One bone straight through the chest, before her LOVE was too high…

But he couldn’t.  Not when his SOUL felt like it was being ripped in two.  

Bathed in golden light, he stood across from her, just as he had before.  The last time, he had been so proud of her, so amazed at her progression, but this time…

He warned her; he searched for any sign of the girl he loved in those crimson eyes.  She twirled the knife in her palm, her skin caked with grit and dust.  

“c'mon, frisk.”

MISS

“do you remember me?  please, if you’re listening… let’s just forget all of this.”

MISS

Over and over, he watched that little crimson SOUL shatter.  He begged.  He pleaded.  He lost track of the times she was impaled or incinerated.  

“i know you feel my soul.  there’s no way you don’t.”

MISS

The bite was gone from her shoulder, wiped clean from the RESET, but the Resonance was still there.  And every time he watched his soulmate’s SOUL shatter, he felt like he lost a piece of himself.  It became a gnawing pain, one that made his voice raw, his bones rattle, his wit crumble.

“please come back to me.”

The knife flashed, and a bone jutted through her shoulder.  The tip of the knife dug between two of his ribs.  He was grimacing, tempted to just rock forward on his heels and give up entirely, but…  

The expression she was wearing…!

Frisk was crying, her trembling fingers unfurling from the knife’s handle.  Its clatter was deafening as it echoed in the Judgement Hall.  

“I’m…s-so…sorry, I… I couldn’t…”  She could barely speak, but Sans hushed her by dismissing the bone and cradling her against his chest.  

“shh.  shhh, it’s ok.”

They both stayed like that, huddled in the corridor together, openly sobbing.  An eternity stretched before Frisk finally wiped her blotchy face on his hoodie and pulled back.  "I’m going to RESET.  If I… If it’s not me this time… Please…“

Sans nodded slightly; he knew what she was asking him to do.  "i’ll stop it before snowdin if i have to.”

She sighed in relief and cradled his cheekbone against her palm.  He could smell the dust. She pressed her lips to his teeth, and he could taste the saltiness of her tears.  Her hand began to tremble, so he reached up and covered it with one of his.  

“see ya soon, kiddo.”

“See you on the other side, Sans.”

[ R E S E T ]

“don’t you know how to greet an old pal?”

He could feel his bones rattling as he held his breath, waiting for her to turn around.  Would she be covered in dust and wearing that smile?  

Frisk whirled around and bypassed his extended hand to throw her arms around his neck, clutching onto him like a lifeline.  His arms wound around her, just as tight, and she could hear the sound of the whoopee cushion deflating against her back.  Her giggles were watery, and she shook her head against his neck.

“You know how to kill a mood, huh?”

She winced as soon as the word kill registered, but Sans just grinned and winked.  ”farting is such sweet sorrow, kid.“

Frisk snorted.  "You dork.”  Her tone was affectionate as she hugged him again, burying her face in the side of his neck.  He lowered his head to her shoulder, grazing his teeth lightly over where his mark would soon be. 

She went through the familiar motions, befriending everyone while he watched over her from the sidelines.  With every Confrontation, he felt that familiar fear well up in his chest… a feeling of deja vu that made him wonder if that last timeline had happened more than once.  

He didn’t threaten her at the MTT restaurant; instead, they had a meal, and he even got on stage to tell a few jokes.  Her smile (the genuine smile he knew, not the one that didn’t reach those empty eyes) made his SOUL soar.  They skipped the Judgement Hall altogether–Sans took her through a shortcut instead.

Then, they ended up standing on top of the mountain again, watching the sun set.  Uncertainly chilled him, even as the sunlight cast a warm, orange glow over his pale bones.  This was the second time she had done the impossible.

(No, the third.  The second time she did the impossible was when she caused them to end up Underground again.  He was too terrified of the answer to ask her why she did it yet.)

And then a hand brought him out of his somber thoughts.  Finger slipped down his arm, into the pocket where his fist was buried.  Like so many times before, Frisk laced her fingers with his, and Sans’s eyelights shifted over to her.  The sweater slipped away from her shoulder slightly–just enough for him to see the healing bite there, marking her as his.  

“gotta hand it to ya, frisk.  you know just what to do.”

The stirring in his SOUL quelled as he squeezed her hand.  

Her grin was lop-sided.  “I can’t quite put my finger on why, but it dawned on me that should touch you.”

“c’mon, i set you up for that one, and you recycled my garbage joke.”

“I’ll give you that.”  Her smile brightens, and Sans chuckles.  After their amusement dies down, he searches her gaze, but sees no trace of the other entity.  He decides it doesn’t matter.  Their SOULs are bound, interwoven too tightly for that threat to break them apart.  If he has to relieve the same loop over and over, he’ll do it.  

It’s worth the uncertainty if it means he’ll get to keep spending these moments with her, forever.

*Mobile Imagine Masterlist

[little-marlene-blog]

♙: Sharing a bed

Marlene awoke in a sweat, her breath coming out as ragged gasps. Instantly, she shot up from her bed and scrambled onto the floor of the hotel room, hoping the rough surface would bring her back to reality. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Her back was pressed against the side of the bed, pressing her palms against her eyes, scrubbing desperately at the tears that had fallen without her permission. She hated this, hated everything about it. Marlene McKinnon was not weak, did not tremble at something as silly as a dream, a memory, something as insignificant as the past. 

Yet there she was, trying to bring her heart rate down, to regain her senses. But every time she thought she was in control again, her breath would hitch, throwing her into another panicked fit and suddenly she couldn’t sit still anymore. Having just enough of her wits left to grab her key on the way out, she was running down the hall, ignoring the curses thrown her way after she collided with another drunken patron stumbling to their room. 

The night was cold and she was instantly shivering when she stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron and set off down the street. At least she’d be able to brush the trembles off on the chilled air. There was no rhyme to her path, weaving down streets, brushing off lewd comments thrown into the night. She must have looked a wreck, hair messy from what little sleep she’d gotten with only an over sized t-shit and cotton shorts. Shoes had been forgotten in her rush to get away, but still she ran as if being chased because she was. 

Demons don’t sleep, especially not the ones manufactured in one’s head through trauma, though Marlene would never acknowledge it as such. Coming to a stop, she pressed her forehead against the brick of a building, the cold helping to clear her thoughts enough to remember that running around without shoes at night was a bad idea. Her family would freak out if they knew where she was, Marcus especially. Always worried, always trying to protect everyone even from silly things like the cold. But as her shivering intensified, she knew she needed to get somewhere warm. 

Her hotel room was out of the question, she didn’t want to go back, as if that bed had been the cause of her fear. There was no way she’d let Marcus see her in such a state, nor Alice or Lily. The list only went on: Amos, Sirius, Gilderoy, Andromeda. The well-meaning people in her life were the most likely to be subjects to Marlene lashing out, too surrounded by questions that dug into fresh bruises. The concern was as charming as it was repulsive. But Edgar, Edgar didn’t push her into corners and before long, she found herself staring at the door to his flat, nails digging into the palms of her hands, telling herself to calm the fuck down before she knocked. Once, twice, then a third time before she heard footsteps.

Marlene didn’t want to think about how she looked when Edgar answered the door, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The perfect image of someone who had fallen from grace and hit the ground too hard, licking at their own wounds in an attempt to heal them without anyone noticing. Her eyes were red, puffy and half-lidded, her bottom lip had been chewed to hell and back until copper burned her tongue and she was shaking, shoe-less, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. “Can I come in?” Her voice sounded as terrible as she felt. 

Suddenly she was being ushered inside, his hands felt as though they were searing through the flesh on her shoulders as he guided her, demanding to know what had happened. And how was she supposed to answer that? Rather than respond, she shook her head, forcing herself to smile, even if it was just a little. “You know me. I’m always a mess.” Rarely this much of one, sure, but a wreck of a girl all the same. “Marlene, it’s four in the morning an-where are your shoes?” Again, she simply shook her head at his question. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Do you mind if- can-” Gnawing on her lips again, she sighed, looking down at his feet. 

“Can I stay the night? With you?” Vulnerable, Marlene hated it, hated the edge of desperation in her voice, hated that despite the warmth of the apartment, she was still shaking. “What? Of course. You must be freezing.” Not really. Her feet had gone numb a while ago, but she nodded all the same, taking the opportunity to wrap herself around Edgar. “But you’re warm,” She breathed, pressing her forehead to his sternum. “I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Repeating her statement from earlier, she closed her eyes. Every bone in her body felt heavy, weighing her down. “Can we just go to bed?”

It was rare that Marlene asked for permission to do anything, but this was a new kind of invasive for her, extending her problems onto someone else. For all her faults, fear was something she tried to keep to herself. Settled into Edgar’s bed, there was a voice reminding her to stop making homes out of people. She ignored it, only folding herself further into Edgar’s chest. Wrapped in the blankets and shoved into his arms, Marlene felt safe, content. For once, she was silent, her hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt in a way that made it clear she never wanted to let go. “You’re not going back to sleep, are you?” He asked and Marlene shook her head in response. 

“I hate this.” The loathing in her voice was clear, even as she spoke in a whisper. “I know. I’ll stay up with you.”

“I’m sorry.”