#I instantly check out and start insulting the character for being an idiot

[robotsprinkles]

okay

I do like earthspark overall

but god I wish for once we could get a tf show (or just. anything) that doesn't do the "humans are better than Cybertronians at everything" bit.

In Earthspark's defense, it's not TFP.

MECH and Silas somehow being able to make an optimus clone and fight better than Optimus himself with it is idiotic on so many levels and I have no idea how they thought it was good writing.

(yeah sure Optimus has been fighting a war for four million years and 1v1s Megatron on the regular and knows the ins and outs of his body and has all the wisdom and knowledge and skill bestowed by the matrix but some jackass military prick who's at most got 50 years of combat experience controlling a second rate knockoff with what's basically an arcade control stick can kick his ass without trying)

okay before anyone gets pissy at me for saying Earthspark did the "humans are better than Cybertronians at everything" bit, I'm being mostly hyperbolic, and also: (this gets long and rambly so I'm putting it under a readmore")

I'm mostly saying Earthspark did the bit because GHOST and Mandroid were both unreasonably effective at defeating and capturing Cybertronians, on top of being able to mind control them.

(I really don't like humans being able to defeat Cybertronians on any consistent basis unless it's like. a motorcycle or minicon or micromaster getting hit by a bunch of HEAT rounds or 120mm sabot or a prolonged barrage of 20-30mm autocannon fire or specifically anti-Cybertronian weapons like inhibitors and mode locks and EM/EMP blasts and the like because then it just makes it seem like Cybertronian weaponry is on average about as effective as a nerf gun. but then you get the issue of "if humans have such effective anti-Cybertronian weapons that can incapacitate a Cybertronian in one shot why aren't the bots and cons using them instead of blasters that seem to do piss-all against anything that's not point blank")

I'm willing to give ES some leeway on the "can mind control Cybertronians despite that generally being something only people with powers or specific weapons for it can do (like Mindwipe and Bombshell and sometimes Soundwave and mnemosurgeons if you want to count them)" thing because GHOST did have Bombshell in custody and could prooobably have acquired cerebro-shells to study and experiment on. (though I don't remember if Mandroid ever had any time with Bombshell so. if he didn't then screw that, leeway lost). but also if cerebro-shells are as easy to reverse engineer as that you'd expect the Autobots to have already come up with a defense against them. Perpetual arms race and all that.

Personally, I'm not fond of humans being able to reverse-engineer Cybertronian tech and anatomy like it's nothing because I really don't care for the sci-fi trope of humans' thing being "we're so clever and smart and adaptive and so much better than all alien races at learning and improving". It's overdone and the positioning of humanity as special and/or unique that a lot of sci-fi does annoys the hell out of me

(Tangent time) as an example for why I think the "humans can reverse engineer any alien tech ever" trope is stupid and bad (sci-fi) writing: if an alien race had gravity manipulation tech that operated via graviton manipulation, (modern) humanity would flat out have no idea how it worked — even if this was a version modern humanity that universally accepted gravitons as real — unless they had the documentation from the aliens explaining that's how it worked, because "Unambiguous detection of individual gravitons, though not prohibited by any fundamental law, is impossible with any physically reasonable detector [...] a detector with the mass of Jupiter and 100% efficiency, placed in close orbit around a neutron star, would only be expected to observe one graviton every 10 years, even under the most favorable conditions. It would be impossible to discriminate these events from the background of neutrinos, since the dimensions of the required neutrino shield would ensure collapse into a black hole" (yes that's from wikipedia but it's also true (enough for the purposes of this dumb argument. if physicists want to tell me the ways this statement is wrong in any way please do I want to learn things)) (tangent over)

obviously Cybertronian anatomy doesn't function off anything similar to gravitons (in that canon has never said Cybertronian brains or sparks or anything contain or use unprovable or undetectable (to human) particles) (though you might be able to make an argument for Energon being something like that) (it generally seems human organisations' ability to detect Cybertronians is gained from Energon detecting tech given to them by Cybertronians so)

But. y'know. There's saying "1940s humanity could probably reverse engineer a Ferrari" and saying "13th century medieval Europe could definitely reverse engineer an F-35"

[sixeyesgojo]

I’ll Be Your Enemy

Summary: Gojo Satoru is willing to do anything for you. As long as it helps you heal from what haunted your night.

Pairing: Gojo x Reader

Word count: 2,019

Content warning: implied but unspecified mental illness, mentions of self-harm (scratching), mentions of character death

A/N: Kind of stumbled upon this masterpiece of a song and I thought it would be ideal for some Gojo HURT. This entire thing takes place after the Cursed Womb Arc, so to say: after Yuji dies.

Song: Be Your Enemy by Taemin ft. Wendy

PREQUEL HERE: Pictures of You

Quickly, quickly. The key was inserted into the keyhole and turned. The door lock clicked faintly, signaling that the door has been unlocked. Satoru made sure to open and close the door softly as he entered the familiar apartment. Putting the spare key into his pocket, he slid out of his shoes. Usually he would have made some big noise to ‘announce his arrival’ but not this time. He left his shoes neatly at the genkan of the residence and slipped into the white slippers that always stood by the wooden door, an extra pair just for him.

23 minutes ago. “Hello?” Satoru had picked up the phone. “Gojo-san! Finally the call went through. I’m glad I am able to reach you now,” the voice on the other end said. “Yo, Ijichi, what’s up?” Satoru greeted. He had been sent to a pretty rural area of Japan to get rid of some pesky curses and the cell phone reception was poor in that place, so it wasn’t surprising that calls didn’t go through at times. In addition to that, some curses that manifested had an electrical ability, which impaired the cell towers at place even more. Almost as if planned. “Gojo-san, I think you need to come back as fast as you can,” the man with glasses on the other end of the line stated calmly. “Why?” was the only thing the white-haired sorcerer said in response. Somehow, he had a strange feeling in his gut. The tone in Ijichi’s voice didn’t do anything to calm this odd feeling either.

“It’s L/N-san. Something horrible happened and I don’t think she is taking it well. I did my best to calm her but I’m at wits’ end too…” Ichiji explained vaguely. Satoru was experiencing a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time - his stomach churned, it felt like his guts were wrenching inside him - at the mention of your name. “Ijichi,” he said in a relatively calm voice. He was lucky his voice wasn’t betraying him by showing what he truly felt in that moment. Satoru’s feet were set in rapid motion. “Stay calm. I need you to explain to me what exactly happened.”

Gojo Satoru might be many things. A tease, a teacher (supposedly), a cruel man, a strong sorcerer, a crazy coach, a walking menace to some, protective, an inspiration to a handful, a venti-sized manchild, idiotic, a sweets maniac, a lifelong student to Yaga, playful, a pillar of the Jujutsu world… but most importantly, he was a caring person. This goes without saying for his students and especially his loved ones. What Ijichi just said on the phone had left his heart stinging in his chest. He was in the kitchen, leaving the bag he brought with him on the table.

“Alright. I will tell you what happened, Gojo-san.” “I am listening.” “I am not sure if you are aware that this happened,” the suit-clad man began, “but one of the missions that was originally assigned to you - a case of utmost priority of a cursed womb - was suddenly taken off of your pile and reassigned…” Satoru’s eyes narrowed underneath the black fabric. The beginning already left a bad taste in his mouth; missions assigned to him were usually first grade or even special grade and he knew all too well that there were nowhere enough first grade, let alone special grade, sorcerers around. So who had it been assigned to? “...to your three first-year students,” Ijichi finished with a sigh. The sickening hotness of rage filled Satoru’s whole body. Already having realized the scenario that must have taken place, he still asked for confirmation, “What grade?” “...Special grade. One casualty.” The picture that you had taken of him, his first years and yourself (so carefully hung up on your wall at home) flashed in front of his inner eye. He clenched his teeth so hard as he wordlessly hung up; it hurt. It hurt so badly.

Such an atrocious inhumane act coated in malice. He was going to kill these dirty-playing bastards. However, that would have to wait until later. Much later. Satoru couldn’t leave you to your own devices, not in this state. The scenario he concluded for himself earlier replayed in his mind several times as he made his way through your completely dark apartment. His heart stung with each beat. It was almost as if someone drove a blade through his chest repeatedly.

When he stood in front of the closed door of your bedroom, he heard soft sobs coming from inside. Should he knock to let you know someone came? He wasn’t sure what to do. He gave the door two soft knocks and entered the room. It was your hunched form on the bed, no doubt. Satoru could not see your face with the way your back was facing him. Slowly he made his way to your bed and crouched down to face you. Your face was swollen and tear-stained, a sight he didn’t see often. His large hand rested on your shoulder and gently rubbed it, a silent question hung in the air.

Finally, you looked at him with your swollen eyes. Almost instantly, your sobs got louder and you reached out for the tall sorcerer. “S-Satoru…” you hiccuped in-between sobs. “Yeah. I’m here, I’m here,” he reassured you and stroked the wet hair out of your puffy face as you threw yourself around him, relentlessly crying into his broad shoulders. The white-haired man enclosed his arms around you but it wasn’t to hug you for comfort.

He scooped your delicate frame up and wrapped a warm blanket around you before leaning your body against the headboard of the bed. He sat next to you on the bed and guided your head onto his shoulders. Your violent sobbing stopped but tears were still flowing freely. 

If there was someone who understood the agony, bitterness and distress someone in this line of work had to face, it was Gojo Satoru. The path of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was painted black and red by trials and tribulations. This was why Satoru was so hell-bent on resetting the world he called his obligation. “If you feel exhausted, just lean on me for a second,” his calm voice sounded through the room. There was no answer from you. Even if there was silence, your feelings reached his heart and he spoke again. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked gently. Let it go with me. It’ll be easier to shake this burden off and share it, he thought. Of course, he would never dare force you. You nuzzled into his shoulder, as if to get even closer physically.

Ultimately, the woman sucked in a breath and with a shaky voice and recounted everything in her point of view. “I-I.. was on a mission when I… got a call from Ijichi. ‘Something wasn’t right’, he said and… t-told me about the cursed womb. As soon as I heard… that they sent y-your students there, I rushed to the location but…”, you hiccuped, “...I was too late… Y-Yuji, he-” You sobbed hysterically into his shoulder. Satoru turned to you to wipe away the tears and snot with a tissue. “Shhh, I’m here, I’m here”, he reassured once again, “I’ll fix it somehow.” It was just as he thought: those damned higher ups.

“H-How? This is not… something… you can f-fix, Satoru… not even you,” you continued bawling into his shoulders. I’ll kill all the higher ups, he thought to himself. “I don’t know but I’ll be damned if I can’t do something to change this detestable, loathsome and bloody world we live in,” his voice seethed with anger but it quickly died down as he re-focused on the main topic at hand, “there has to be something I can do, I’ll even drag out Sukuna myself if I have to.” “Please, Satoru…” Your whisper was faint and weak, “I… saw Yuji’s corpse... on the ground... I just want to see him one last time…”

Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer undoubtedly put a heavy strain on your mental wellbeing; nobody was spared from it, not even the great Gojo Satoru. Unfortunately, you were one of the people who were much more affected by incidents like these. He realized how badly it hurt your heart, he knew how much all the students meant to you and he knew just how much more fragile you were than you let on in front of other people. Where there is light, there must be shadow. It wasn’t like he was left unscathed by it either but right now, his utmost priority was you.

“Right,” the male sorcerer murmured more to himself. He still had to check something. “I want you to show me your arms, please.” If this had been a command, it had to be the gentlest one you had ever heard. Maybe it was the fact that there was a hint of pain infused in the way he spoke to you just now that made you show your arms so willingly, or maybe it was the fact that he always sounded so earnest when he took care of you like this. He genuinely cared; it was something you shouldn’t be surprised about, considering how long the two of you have known and cared for each other, but it never ceased to leave you in awe. You held out your arms for him to see.

As carefully as possible, the man examined your arms, his touch ghosting over your skin. It was a good thing he came prepared. The angry red lines, dry blood and broken skin on both of your forearms seemed to scream at him: you hurt yourself again. Without a doubt, he felt guilty. “I’ll be right back,” he announced as he slipped away from the bed after fixing your position and stroking your hair tenderly. A few moments later, your tall friend was back with a few medical supplies. Sitting back on the bed, he started to clean and treat your injuries. Besides a few hiccups and whimpers from your side, silence befell the room.

“Don’t you want to curse and insult me?” His eyes were still fixed on bandaging your arms. “No,” was all you said in response, fearing that your voice would give in. “You should though. After all, it was technically my fault...” Even though you were hurting, you knew Satoru was hurting all the same deep down in his heart, seeing that his precious students were the victims in this case. Satoru really treasured disciples. You took a few deep breaths before you replied, “Please don’t ever blame yourself for this… I know you wouldn’t have… let this shit happen. I know how much you adore them.”

“If it makes you feel better... if it can help you heal, I’ll take it. Any words are fine. I can deal with all the painful words…” Strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you to his chest. It was rare but his voice… unmistakably cracked for a second. A shaky chuckle left your lungs, “Please Satoru,” you wrapped your arms around him as well and nuzzled into his shirt again, “I could never treat you like that. You are everything to me but an enemy. Have always been.”

“I’ll be anything you need. I’ll even be your enemy if you ask me to… so please tell me, so that it doesn’t hurt you anymore…” he said shakily. The blindfolded man had masked his pain up until now, for your sake. It was your time to comfort him. Giving him shelter, like he had done for you. He had already experienced far too much hurt.

“Satoru, all I’ll ever need you to be in my life… is the important and comforting presence you have always been. Don’t change. If things are too much, too overwhelming and you become tired, you can lean on me too. I will never leave you.”

There was nothing left to say, no need. It was enough for both of you to be in each other’s comforting presence.

Taglist: @gojos-mochi​ @megumifushi @bleueluna

[songbirdsingingthings]

Warmth - Levi Ackerman x Reader

(can we take a minute to appreciate this gif omfg he’s too pretty)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Hajime Isayama

AOT Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.4K

To put it lightly, working as a scout in the winter absolutely blows. The wind would bluster relentlessly, causing chills to go down your spine, it would be snowing more often than not, and the winter uniforms that were parceled out to everyone didn’t do enough to block the cold temperatures. But, of course, since you were a captain you needed to block out all of the shivers that claimed your body, clench your teeth to stop their chattering, and stand strong in front of the cadets that were at your mercy for the day.

“Attention!” You shouted, causing all of the scouts in front of you to step into a salute, standing completely still like statues. You sigh before you start to give out instructions for their workout, which did include some heavy conditioning, but was shorter than normal. Honestly though, you would’ve preferred to be in their place. While they were going to be enduring hell for about an hour and a half, the movement from their bodies would generate heat, the thing you were currently lacking. You tried to nestle yourself further into the fur trimmed trench coat you were wearing and pulled up the burgundy scarf, grasping for any form of warmth that you could get. 

“You look like an idiot.” You turned around quickly, instantly recognizing the speaker's voice, and shot him an unamused expression. Bundled up and sat atop his horse, your boyfriend, Levi, looked down at you with indifference in his eyes.

“I can accept that insult if my looking like this keeps me warm,” you huff, turning back around to look at the cadets. Some of them even began to shed their layers opting to simply wear their white button ups. You dig your mittened hands further into your coat pockets, feeling even colder just from looking at them. You hear a crunch of boots behind you, signaling that Levi hopped off his horse, and came to stand beside you.

“Shouldn’t have done that Levi, now you’re gonna have to have me help you back up.” You quip, earning a glare from the captain. He simply scoffs and elbows you, hard, in the side. “Ouch, what the hell.” you grumble.

“How much longer do you have to be out here,” he asks, his eyes on the tired cadets in front of him. You begrudgingly take out your hand to check your pocket watch, but end up reveling in the fact that they only had about ten more minutes left. You tell Levi about the time and he nods, making no effort to move.

“Are you waiting for me?” You inquire, a small smile spreading across your face. The raven-haired captain says nothing but stays put. Your smile widens into a grin and you step closer to him, your hips almost touching. “Thank you.” Levi hums in response and the two of you settle into a comfortable silence as you watch the scouts finish up. When it’s finally time, you make every cadet put their coats back on (you’d be damned if they caught a cold due to negligence) and ushered them back into the main building to grab some dinner before they could retire to the shower houses and then to their barracks. As they begin to wander off, Levi swiftly grabs onto your arm and leads you towards the captains’ quarters. “Hey I haven’t eaten yet!” You complain, tugging your body back towards the direction of the dining hall.

“I’ll get some delivered to your quarters, you need to warm yourself up.” He says, a definitive tone to his voice.

“I’m perfectly fine, it’ll only take a few minutes,” you protest, still hell-bent on getting food for yourself. You were a captain, for heaven’s sake, you were surely capable of getting food for yourself. Levi pauses to grab both of your arms, somewhat forcing you to look at him.

“You need to warm up. You get cold way too easily and then I have to hear an earful about it later. So get you and your red ass nose into your personal quarters and take a damn bath.” Levi states. You eventually give in under his ‘don’t test me’ gaze and grumble all the way back to the captains’ quarters with him by your side. The two of you part ways when you enter and you follow his directions and immediately fill up a bath with the warmest water you could get. While you hated the cold weather with a burning passion, the feeling of your shivering body being enveloped by warm bath water will never cease to be one of your favorite feelings. You close your eyes and lean back, soaking up the warmth when you hear a door open. You panic for a second and try to cover yourself with a towel in fear that a higher up, or worse, a cadet has managed to make their way into your quarters.

“I-I’m not decent! Please wait outside!” You say, sounding a little strangled, but the door opens anyways. Thankfully it reveals Levi.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” He says, closing the door with his foot. You give him a glare, but your expression instantly lightens when you see a tray of food in his hands. He takes you in and lets a small chuckle escape his mouth. “Warmer?” He asks, setting down the tray on the little side table next to you. You sit up a bit in the bath and snatch the spoon from his hands, sinking it into the soup and bringing it to your mouth. You hum at the taste - for some reason, today they had splurged on the scout regiment and supplied them with beef and barley soup instead of the usual bean soup.

“Warmer.” you confirm, digging back into the soup and dipping some of your bread into it. “Good.” Levi says, standing up to press a kiss onto your head and exiting the bathroom, giving you a bit more time to yourself. When you were done with both your dinner and your bath, you drained the tub and gingerly stepped out of it, wrapping a towel snug around your body. You step out to see Levi in your bed, donned in his sleepwear, and a book in his hands. You smile as you make your way over to the wardrobe stationed in the corner of your room and take out the warmest pair of sleepwear you could find - a wool long sleeve that you used to wear before you became a scout, and a pair of long pants that just covered your ankles. You pad your way over to your side of the bed and climb in, quickly covering yourself in the blankets. Levi spares you a glance, gives a small smile, and returns his gaze to his book; not before he lifts his arm closest to you, giving you the signal that you could come close to him. You take the opportunity immediately and glom onto his side. For some weird reason, Levi’s bodily temperature always seemed to run hot while yours was consistently colder, making him just that more wantable to you. “Y’know sometimes I think you just use me as a personal heater and nothing else.” He remarks, setting his book down on the side table and blowing out the candle next to him.

“Yeah, and what if I do.” You mumble back to him, your eyes drooping closed, exhaustion seemingly taking over your body. You feel his body shift as he slides down to rest his head on the pillow and pulls you closer to him. His chin finds purchase on top of your head, his other arm wrapping around your waist.

“Then fine.” He says, making you laugh a bit.

“You’d be fine if I was just using you for your warmth?” You quip back, snuggling your head further into the crick of his neck. He hums and rubs circles into your hip with his thumb.

“Anything to get you to stop complaining. It’s annoying when you do that.” He says, his own eyes closing now. The two of you didn’t say anything else, it wasn’t really necessary to. You understood everything Levi said and picked out its meanings through his own special language that you’d grown accustomed to throughout the years of dating him. His responses and remarks that sounded condescending in speech could easily be interpreted into a much simpler meaning. ‘I love you and I don’t want you to be cold.’

[weirdochick56]

The Bodyguard 2- Bucky Barnes AU

Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, insults, snark, and sassy!Buckster sexy times (ok, so maybe only slightly sexy)

Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU plots or Characters mentioned

Word Count: 5, 173 words

Summary: The Reader and Bucky’s hate for eachother is at an all time high; she can’t seem to rid herself of him and he, well he can’t seem to get her to cooperate with him. But as their frustrations grow, a late-night outing might just be what they both need to see other parts of eachother. 

A/n: This has been a long time in the making, but I finally felt inspired enough to continue the story. Hope you enjoy it!

~The Bodyguard 1~

***

“You can stop following me now,” you grumble with thorny irritation, rolling your eyes at the tall persistent shadow staying hot on your tail. 

It was in vain to ask him to leave, you knew. Agent Brainless was ridiculously adamant about following you around the moment you stepped foot outside of the palace and he was -infuriatingly so- a stubborn man.

How he knew that you were leaving even when you had concocted what you considered a genius plan to evade those infuriatingly pretty grey irises was beyond you.

He sighs at your words, and you can see the annoyance bubbling to the surface of his cold professional exterior, though he tries his hardest to keep a straight face. 

“Your highness, I think we both know I won’t do that,” he responds simply. “Now if you would please stop being so stubborn and simply do as I ask and come with me to the car so that this is easier for us both...” 

You can tell his patience is wearing thin because, in the past few weeks of having him follow you everywhere you went, you had made it a point to figure out his exact breaking point. 

And as you continue making your escape to town like he isn’t even there, you know that so is yours. If there’s anything that can give you that deep burning satisfaction you sought with everything you did, it was pissing Agent Barnes off.

He had patiently asked you to retreat back the way you came so he could “safely” transport you in a castle-owned car, but you refused redundantly because your friend was already waiting for you, but maybe also because you loved the little twitch of his eye every time you refused to listen to his directions.

If you were being completely honest, he really should’ve been asking you to come back to the castle and not go to a club in town at all- as per your father’s orders. But you weren’t fond of said orders and you definitely didn’t want some dark and mysterious shadow following you around during a night of fun with friends. 

“No,” is all you say because in the few minutes you’ve spent talking to him you’ve noticed he’s the most infuriated when your responses are curt and nonchalant. 

You want to see him snap oh so bad...seeing those steely grays lose their cool? Gold. 

“Princess...” he growls in warning, daring you to cut that little thread of control he had left in him with your sharp tongue. 

You don’t look back at him even once enjoying the thrill that travels up your spine at his low-timbre words and the way his voice travels straight to your core, tugging at your short black dress lightly. 

You wanted to see what he would do should he be pushed over the edge. It was fun.

“I already told you, I’m not listening to you. My friend is already waiting for me. And I’m sorry if you have an issue with- Ahh!” Your words choke back into your throat and morph into a shocked yelp when big rough hands grip your hips, spinning you around and without much of a warning, lifting you with incredible ease.

Before you know it, you’re being carelessly thrown over a broad, strong shoulder.

You let out a small ‘oomph’ when the wind gets knocked out of you and all you see is a firm ass, the blood rushing to your head. 

“What the hell do your think you’re doing you absolute buffoon?!” You screech hysterically, wriggling aggressively against his hold on your thighs. 

He barely flinches, only wrapping his muscular arm tighter around your legs and adjusting you on his shoulder like it was a mere midnight stroll for him and you weighed no more than what a feather did. 

“I’m taking you to the car,” he informs as if it’s obvious, voice full with obnoxious satisfaction. 

“Get your filthy hands off me this instant you utter and complete idiot!” You growl, twisting harshly but he doesn’t let go so you start pounding on his firm back with your fists, fighting to free yourself of him. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”

He just laughs at what seems to be your weak attempts to break away. He laughs.

You gasp at the absolute and complete audacity he has of laughing when he’s treating you, the single heir to the Androvian throne, like a sack of potatoes. 

“You ass!” You wriggle around some more, tugging at his hands to try to pry them off your legs but all he does is smack them away as if they were mere pesky flies. 

“I may be,” he chokes back a small snort but only barely. “But at least I’m the only ass trying to keep your reckless self in check, princess.”

Indignation, humiliation, and utter vexation all burn deep inside you like a thrumming fire ready to ravage everything in its way when it got the chance to escape your body as you slowly fall limp against him. 

Resignation comes hand in hand with the deep desire for revenge and you fist your hands in deep ache to somehow exercise it. 

He carries you all the way to the garage of cars in the back part of the castle, walks over to a black SUV out of all the expensive cars to choose from, opens it and all but throws you into the back leather seats like you’re not a fucking human, much less the princess of the land he’s currently stepping in. 

You land flat on your back in the smooth leather interior of the luxury SUV with a small thud and instantly sit up to glare at him heatedly. “Do you have any idea who I am? Be gentle, you brute!” 

Annoyingly enough, he simply ignores you and leans over your body. His heat floods through your bare skin and feels good for a second and you subtly inhale his musky scent as he tugs on the seatbelt, roughly pulling it over you. 

You forget about your hatred for him for a split second and that only makes you angrier when it comes back full force. 

You fucking idiot, Y/n. 

In a last and desperate attempt of defiance, you try to push his hands away to which he responds by firmly pressing you back by your shoulder into your seat and staring you dead in the eye with blazing grey eyes. 

The fire that swirls in them is...something. Not necessarily scary, but intimidating and...something else.

Something that makes your skin flush and your nerves throb to life. 

You stare right back, tilting your chin up to show him you weren’t backing down or scared of him and his brute force. He got too under your skin and you knew you got under his which only offered you only a limited amount of comfort. 

He clenches his jaw as he clicks the seatbelt into place, never looking away from your challenging gaze. As if to stick another dagger into your burning insides. As if to reassert his power here. 

Your labored breaths are all that can be heard for miles to come in the calm night air and he leans close for a second, your heaving chests gently brushing.

Not meaning for it to happen, you feel your nipples harden beneath the flimsy fabric of your black party dress and you wonder if you imagine his hands clenching around your shoulder -his fingers digging into your flesh with suppression- or the sly flick of his eyes from your eyes to your lips. 

You wonder if you imagine the look of heat that passes over his eyes when your breaths mix the second time seems to stop and an overwhelming emotion washes over you. 

But then it’s gone as soon as it came and hatred burns deep in your belly once more. So deep that it hurts and brings painful tears to your eyes, your nose burning so hard you can’t focus through your blurry vision.

You lean in closer, so close your nose is brushing just barely against his and pause for a second. A second of torture for him, a second of uncertainty, a second where his breath catches and his pupils dilate. 

Then you speak, voice trembling with overwhelming anger. 

“I have never,” you whisper, licking your lips. “Been treated with such disrespect.” You swallow hard, cheeks red with humiliation. 

You see a flash of guilt in his eyes but it’s quickly replaced by his usual look of cool professionalism- not even anger anymore. Not even that.

And he leans right back into you, a wave of heat passing over both of you. “Then learn to listen next time. It’s for your safety.” 

And just like that he’s drawing back, slamming the passenger door closed and climbing into the driver’s seat- leaving you cold and angry beyond reason.

A moment of tense silence passes before he releases a tiny sigh and breaks it by turning on the ignition. 

“Where are we going?”

*

BUCKY’S POV

I watch her laugh at something one of her friends says from a dark corner of the club and it’s hard not to stare for reasons other than my duty being just that...to look after her. 

The club was a luxurious one, with high ceilings, intricate designs and a VIP section where we were immediately escorted to.

Her Highness’s friends, a blonde guy and girl who had nodded at me in polite acknowledgment were already waiting for her there and I assumed that the few seconds when she had stopped her sulking and taken out her phone from her clutch were the seconds she was texting her friends to meet her there instead. 

I would never admit it, but I enjoyed watching her cave. It was like taming a wild horse, even if momentarily. 

Princess Y/n was a brat, plain and simple. Selfish, childish, and feisty as hell, I had never met anyone as completely and utterly vexing as her and to say these past few weeks had been hell would be an understatement. 

If I wasn’t so good at my job, I would’ve lost her already. She threw me for a loop any chance she got, cutting corners and doing everything she could to avoid my protection. 

As I stared at her with that pretty ass smile on her annoyingly beautiful face, it’s hard to imagine that that was the same person pushing every single one of my buttons just a few minutes before. 

She actually looked relaxed and...nice?

God, she infuriated me in ways I had no idea I could be infuriated, discovered buttons I didn’t know I had and pushed them to the point I had to throw her over my damn shoulder like a sack of flour.

I was a professional, for God’s sake. Had always been one with every single one of the cases I was assigned, so why was she the one to get under my skin?

...And why did I enjoy having her perfectly round ass so close to my face? Why did I keep thinking about the defiance in those stupidly big eyes over and over like I....craved it?

I wondered to myself as I watched her take down a shot by the bar. She glanced at me over her shoulder, still smiling, but it quickly melted away when our gazes clashed and my own mood soured instantly. 

I grimaced when she looked away as if I had burnt her with my eyes and quickly pulled my head out of the gutter. 

The fact that she was utterly gorgeous didn’t change how annoying she was. Not to mention I was here on a job. 

One I fully intended to complete, no matter how fucking difficult the client was.

*

The night moves on at a slow pace for me. The princess parties and I watch her like a hawk, making sure not to let her get too wild. 

So far I had pried off five guys who were trying their luck with her. From what I’d read on her file and the extensive research I’d done online, her face wasn’t really well known. 

She was always kept  secret and would be until she was crowned queen of Androvia- some weird old belief or something- so not many people knew what she looked like. 

Meaning, these guys probably didn’t know who they were trying to get all handsy with on the dance floor and would only assume was some rich daddy’s girl once my towering form appeared and nicely escorted them away. 

For the most part nicely, anyway. Some I had to get a little rougher with. 

I make sure to keep my eyes glued on her form, ignoring the way she moved her hips in that tiny black dress. It hugged her alluring curves like a glove and I swallowed hard as she grinded on her female friend, head thrown back and a free smile on her face. 

“She is...beautiful, isn’t she?” 

I calmly turn towards the voice as it hums out from beside me, turning to see the guy she came with. He takes a sip of his drink, smirking as his eyes remain on the way the princess waves her hands in the air to the beat of the song, sensually shaking her hips as if she was one with the sexy R&B song I had no idea the name of. 

I clear my throat, remaining stock still in my bodyguard pose. “Sir, I”m only here to protect her Highness. I really don’t-”

“Oh don’t even try to hide it. She’s easily the most beautiful woman in this whole club.”

He takes my silence as confirmation, it seems, because he proceeds to speak on as if I’ve agreed.

“But it’s not just her physical appearance is it? It’s something else. Something...inside,” he whispers. 

When I don’t respond, he continues bitterly. “I’m warning you; don’t fall for her. It’ll only bring you a world of pain, trust me.”

I catch the pain in his voice and stiffen. “I would never fall for one of my subjects, sir,” I assure him.

He laughs sourly. “Sure bud. You keep telling yourself that.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I insist, swallowing thickly as she laughs, beautiful smile wide and her laughter too melodious to be coming out of such a wretched little urchin. 

“Well,” he coughs suddenly, clapping me in the shoulder. “I think I need another drink. Want one?”

I eye his hand which he slowly pries off and shake my head with a slightly clenched jaw.

“I’m on the job, sir,” I remain calm and professional despite the fact that all I wanted to do was break that hand for putting stupid thoughts in my head. 

Because for a second there, as the bright club lights shun down on her, I could see what he talked about when he said there was something inside. In that smile, those eyes, that laugh...

But then she made eye contact with me and the feeling turned bitter so quick it’s a miracle I didn’t get whiplash. 

She was a brat. Nothing more.

*

YOUR POV

Sometime late into the night, you had found myself fairly buzzed. Not enough to fall on your face, but enough that walking- well, stumbling over to Agent Asshole only seemed more and more attractive an action.

He glances at you with those eyes and you can’t help the anger the bubbles within you. “Do you plan on staring me down the entire night?”

“It’s my job,” is all he says. 

You scowl fiercely at him. “I hate you,” you seethe.

He raises a dark brow but otherwise keeps that stoic expression on his face. “Do you want to leave, your Highness?”

His neutral tone and complete lack of reaction only angers you more and you shake your head furiously. “No, I don’t want to leave. I want you to leave though.”

He presses his lips firmly together. “I’m sorry-“

“No, you’re not.”

“Huh?” He cocks his side slightly to the side and you lean closer to him, craning your neck to look him in the eye.

“I said; you’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you WOULD LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” You feel your drunken emotions deep in your chest and without much effort, your voice quickly escalates.

He sighs heavily. “Okay, your highness, I think it’s time I take you back to the castle. C’mon,” he waves a hand toward the door.

You laugh at him coldly, shaking your head. “Who do you think you are, ordering me around? Know your place asshole, you are below me- never forget,” you growl snarkily, leaning right into his face.

You feel his breathing quicken against your cheeks the longer you defiantly smirk up at him, his calm eyes darkening.

You realized you enjoyed pushing him to the edge, that you craved this look on his face...

He smirks mockingly down at you, staring you down. “You can come willingly, your highness, or I can throw you over my shoulder like last time.” He leans straight into your ear, whispering hotly. “I’m sure you would rather not go through the embarrassment.”

You swallow thickly, your heart hammering against your chest and you’re not sure it’s from anger anymore. With disgust, you jerk away from him, glaring holes into his head.

“Let’s go.”

*

“You can go, Agent Obnoxious,” you mumble drunkenly, waving a dismissive hand at him as you stumble into your warm room, practically ripping off your heels.

You throw them somewhere in the corner of the large room, sighing with relief when you feel your bare feet touching the soft carpeted floor. 

Your knees shake slightly and buckle and you end up tripping forward.

You land on the ground with a soft grunt and for some reason, laughter bubbles deep in your chest.

“Your Highness!”

A few seconds later, you feel strong warm hands wrapping around your body to heave you up. You place your hands on his strong arms for support and look up at Agent Barnes.

The laughter immediately dies on your lips when you see a beautiful concerned frown of engraved deep in his face. It looks so sincere and his arms are so strong...

Before you know what you’re doing, a small mumble is leaving your lips. “You...” you cut yourself off abruptly when his eyes meet yours.

His hands now rest lightly on your waist, and you’re so close you can smell him. His scent is deep and rich and manly, so unlike the scent of those rich assholes you were forced to mingle with on a daily basis.

And his hands, are strong and resilient. The callouses on them tells you that he’s worked his entire life. Those hands, the ones holding you right now, They’ve probably handled a gun, they’ve probably saved so many lives...

You bite your lip, thinking about the way those hands felt on the skin of your arm and how heavenly it would feel if it traveled all over.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as you crane up your neck to stare up at him.

He stares down at you, and even when your room is dark, the light of the moonlight that filters in from the huge window highlights the heavy tension in his gaze.

You’re both unmoving and you wonder if he enjoys touching you as much as you enjoy his touch.

He inhaled deeply, his eyes flickering to your lips and eyes and then back.

You want to ask him what he’s thinking. You want to tell him to just do it -to just kiss you because you wouldn’t dare push him away- not in this state, not when the alcohol and his scent and eyes were clogging every single sense and reason you had, but you’re afraid to break the spell of whatever this was. 

So instead, you wait on abated breath, feeling like you’re both on the verge of something utterly earth-shattering, for him to move.

Finally, he speaks a few seconds later and it’s a quiet murmur. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

You ignore the sharp sting of his rejection when you were so clearly begging him to kiss you and step away from his touch as if he’s burnt you.

You turn around so he can’t see the hurt in your eyes. “You can go now Agent Brainless,” you say coldly over your shoulder, but you know it’s a lot softer than the other time.

Another second passes. “Princess..” he whispers.

You ignore his barely audible whisper and angrily begin undressing, tugging at the straps of your dress.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” He growls lowly as you begin to pull your dress down to your waist.

With a sarcastic smile, your turn towards him, your top half completely naked aside from your black lacy bra.

His gaze immediately falls on your half-naked chest, but aside from the small flicker in his eyes and gulp he takes, he gives no other indication of shock.

You raise a brow. “Are you going to watch me undress now too, Agent Barnes?” You ask mockingly.

His eyes find yours again and they’re darker than you’ve ever seen them. They send shivers through your whole body and you almost give into the urge to look away, but the anger and frustration within you don’t allow your gaze to waver.

“I’m not leaving until you’re safely in bed,” he husks, clearly trying his best to remain professional and cold as his icy stare bores into your eyes- purposefully looking away from your naked form.

You tilt your head up at him innocently, slowly sauntering closer to him. “Oh? Well in that case, do you mind helping me with the zipper of my dress? It’s stuck.”

You turn your back on him and a smirk blossoms in your face as you hear his breathing strain, your ass slightly brushing against his crotch area. 

He blows out a shaky exhale and it blows against your naked back, all hot and angry. 

When he makes no move to help you, you look at him over your shoulder. “Well?” 

His grave expression doesn’t budge. “I can’t do that,” he says lowly. 

But even as he resentfully spits this, he doesn’t budge and his eyes are still tracing over your body, their electric desire leaving goosebumps over wherever they ran over.

You roll your eyes at him. “Then turn around, you idiot.” 

He growls, fisting his hands and clenching his jaw tightly but doesn’t try to fight you on it and turns his broad back to you.

You’re intoxicated, so it’s probably because you’re not thinking straight, but as you quickly slip on a silk night gown and stare at his back, you can’t help the deep heavy sadness that sinks into your chest. 

Why hadn’t he kissed you just now? You could’ve sworn he wanted to and you sure as hell did...it was there, the moment, the split second when you were willing to risk it all, to overlook any and all boundaries, cross all imposing lines- but you lost it. 

Pushing your hair to the side, you convince yourself it was for the best. 

“I’m done,” you say softly, climbing into bed. 

Agent Barnes nods at you stiffly, turning on his heels to leave as you get under the covers. Blaming this on your intoxication, you suddenly find yourself exclaiming. 

“Wait!” 

He pauses right before his foot moves outside the doorframe and turns toward you, eyebrows raised. “You need something, Your Highness?”

You stare at him seriously, pressing your head against your pillow. “Don’t...leave, please,” you whisper softly, curling into a ball at the tenderness of your voice.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you admit quietly. 

He freezes, staring at you as if he’d never seen you before and you avert your gaze, afraid maybe you let on too much. 

“Sorry,” you quickly apologize, but that only flusters you more. “I-I mean not sorry, you asshole. Just- whatever. I’m in bed now, you can go.” 

Feeling embarrassed, you quickly flip over and turn your back to him.  

Seconds later, you hear the door click close and then nothing. A heavy sigh escapes you and you try to suppress the feeling of disappointment that envelops your whole body. 

You didn’t know if it was the drinks or the cold distant dinners you’d been having with your family...but you had never felt more alone. All the clubbing and trying to escape your destiny by trying to pave a life of your own couldn’t fill in that emptiness you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried.  

You didn’t want to feel like that anymore. Not tonight. 

So even if it was your bodyguard who you hated with everything in you, you needed someone just to be there. Even if it was just to sit in silence with.  

Suddenly, you hear a gentle swish noise and gasp lightly, flipping over. Agent Barnes has thrown his jacket over the chair beside your bed and is loosening his tie and he stares at you. His beautiful gaze sucks you in as you blink up at him in surprise. 

He shrugs. “I can’t just....leave you here alone.” 

Your chest clenches painfully and warmth travels all over your body like warm gooey honey. The feeling of having someone there for you when you need them most is almost overwhelmingly strong. 

“Thank you,” you whisper so quietly, you’re shocked he even hears it. 

He tilts his head at you, frowning with that handsome face of his. “For what? It’s my job.” 

There he goes detaching himself. With a gentle shrug, you nod and curl into a ball under your covers, trying to covet sleep. 

You try this for a few minutes and you’re tired, but you can’t help thinking about Agent Barnes sitting in a hard chair all night. After a while of tossing and turning, you sit up. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you breathe with irritation. 

“What? What happened?” he sits up instantly, and though you could tell he was on the verge of dozing off, his sharp senses are impressive as he reaches for the gun on his ankle frantically. 

You sigh, hating the way your cheeks grow hot and you look away timidly. “Just get into bed,” you say roughly. 

“What?”

You bite your lip, looking at him in the eyes. “I said; get into bed with me. That chair is uncomfortable.” 

He laughs lightly. “Princess, I was trained by the world’s best assassins. I was taught to sleep on a cold concrete ground if need be.” He gives the chair a firm pat. “This chair is a luxury for a guy like me.”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, wondering more about his past before lightly shaking your head. 

“I don’t care. I still feel bad that I made you sleep here on a chair. Just get in already, will you?” You growl at his stubbornness. “The bed is huge, there’ll be enough space for the both of us, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” you add on, softly. 

After a few seconds of intense eye contact, he finally relents with a small sigh. “Fine.” 

Hesitantly, he cuffs his sleeves and perches himself on the edge of the bed- all stiff and tight. “Good?” He asks, glancing at you with raised brows.

You frown. “You’re kidding.”

“What?”

“You’re not actually planning to sleep like that are you?” You snort. 

“I told you-”

“That you were trained by dangerous assassins, yeah yeah. But you’re still a human and a ridiculous one at that,” you scoff before suddenly smirking.  “You’re not afraid of lil old me, are you? I’m tiny- I couldn’t possibly hurt you...too much,” you offer him a faux innocent smile, batting your lashes. 

He stares at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh trust me, I’ve met girls like you before. You definitely don’t bite.” 

You raise a brow amusedly. “Girls like me?”

His sexy smirk widens. “Yeah. You’re all bark but no bite,” he replies vaguely.

Feeling partially indignant and partially curious, you decide to probe him for answers. “Oh yeah?”

He can’t resist your subtle challenge and continue speaking. “You’re always in power, constantly being chased after because you’re beautiful and rich and you act like it’s what you want in a guy, but it isn’t, is it?”

Deeply intrigued by his generally accurate analysis, you can’t help but laugh. “Oh?”

“No.” He stares deeply into your eyes and the smile slips off your lips as he says his next words with the intensity of a thousand suns. “You bark out orders and you take on responsibilities like a boss, but what you really want is a man. Not a pushover boy that’ll listen to your every command and constantly try to please you, fall at your feet...But a man that’ll choke slam you on the bed, that’ll make you his, that’ll torture you with the deepest pits of hellish pleasure until he ruins every other man for you. You want to be controlled, brought over the edge so far you won’t ever be able to go there by yourself and then at the last moment get that taken away from you. You want to be used.” 

You openly gape at him but he ignores you and slightly scoots closer, still at a safe distance, but close enough where you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“Sleep, Princess,” he whispers. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

At first, you’re too shocked to react. Your heart is positively hammering against your ribcage and your cheeks are uncharacteristically red. You were flushed. How had he managed to...’you know what?’ You think. ‘No.’ 

You breathe in deeply. ‘ I’m not going to think about it anymore.’

Because doing so would mean letting him win. And also, never mind the fact that he’s in your bed right now...

Decidedly, you squeeze your eyes shut, begging sleep to come amidst all your stupid, surely drunken thoughts about your stupid bodyguard and kissing him, or simply straddling him right now...

Despite how much you disliked him, you felt safe and protected, like you could let your guard down. And yet...not enough. 

Soon, lulled by the steady beating of his heart and the warmth of his body, you curl into a ball and slowly let your heavy lids close, relaxing completely.

“Oh, and Agent Brainless?” you murmur, on the very verge of sleep. 

“Yes, princess?” He looks at you. 

You manage to send him one last cold smirk before answering.  

“Don’t misinterpret this, right now. I’m merely asking you to do your job.” 

And then darkness takes over.

Before fully giving into the softness of the darkness of slumber, though, you think you hear him laugh softly and say something like “wouldn’t dream of it, brat.” 

****

They’re honestly growing on me. Should I continue?

ALSO YALL SEE TFATWS????  SEBASTIAN LOOKS SO DARN GOOD PLEASEEEEEE

A special thanks to:

@lilypalmer1987

@jessikared97

@sammykb1994

@mogaruke

@mo-onstarrs

@loveofmychips @juliesland​

[thepaperpanda]

The Tarry Gift || Higgs Monaghan x Reader (yet Sam makes a short guest apperance too!)

Summary: it had to be a simple delivery after a longer time of being indisposed. Little did you know that the client was Higgs Monaghan himself

Warnings: none     

Words: 2728

Authors: Cass & Bear

A/N: This is a comedy fic. We wrote it accidentally while just playing around with writing a thing for Higgs Monaghan character but it came out so laughably that we decided to share it with you! ENJOY!

You hoped for a lot as for the first delivery since a long time but instead, you’d gotten pizza delivery. A fucking pizza.

You took the box and headed to the destination.

When the terminal beeped, Higgs narrowed his eyes. Quickly a realization came - it could be nothing but pizza! 

Oh, how much he hoped to finally meet Sam in his bunker! 

How much he craved to see Sam's face when he will realise that Peter Englert was no one else but Higgs himself!

Before putting his hood on, he checked his makeup and smiled at his reflection in a mirror. "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the meanest of them all?," He smirked widely to his reflection so the whiteness of his teeth glistened back in a light of lamp and Higgs chuckled.

He checked his outfit for the very last time and walked to open the door.

"Oh, Sam Bridges! Guess you're happy to..... Who the fuck are you?"

"Who the fuck are you?," You asked with a frown, still holding pizza box in your hands.

The last thing you needed now was being insulted by an aspiring beauty guru. "I have your pizza, mr Englert."

"Where's Sam Bridges?," He asked, measuring your features from the bottom to the top.

You shrugged. "He left before I did. Even if he is my friend I don't really know where he is. Why do you ask?"

"Nevermind. Oh, where are my manners? Please, come in, come in," he gestured at you to get inside the bunker.

"Uhm…," You felt confused, most of the time you interacted with holograms and no one ever invited you inside. "Uhm, I don't know if I should."

"Oh, don't bullshit me!," He simply grabbed your forearm and pulled you inside. When he did, the door closed automatically.

Now you felt scared as fuck and the locked door made you scared even more. "Uhm... Your pizza,” you passed the box to the man in the hood.

With his hood still on, Higgs grabbed the pizza box from you and humming happily he went further along the narrow corridor. "Oh, c'mon! Don't stand like an idiot. Get in!"

You swallowed heavily and nodded, following him. You didn't like it but you had no other option.

The corridor led to a huge chamber.

The walls were covered with handwriting, maps and pictures of no one else but Sam Bridges.

Almost in the middle of the room there was a couch and a table. Under the table there were empty pizza boxes.

Man flopped on the couch and opened the box he was holding in hands. He grabbed a slice of pizza and took a bite. He hummed. "Delicious. Make yourself at home. Want some?," He asked, offering you pizza. "Salami and ham."

You looked around and felt the shivers moving up your spine. This didn't look good and you wanted to run. "No, thanks… I don't like salami or pizza itself."

He shrugged. "Whatever you say, honeypot," he replied and ate his slice of pizza only to grab another

"Don't call me that. I don't even know you. Why am I here even?!," You growled angrily while rubbing your elbow.

"The name's Higgs, the particle of God that permeates all existence. You brought pizza and you are the friend of Sam Bridges who is my greatest enemy of all time. So technically, you're kidnapped," Higgs claimed.

You blinked, processing what he just said. "Excuse me...? You kidding, right? I wanna go out. Let me out."

"Take a seat and have some pizza. Rest. Make yourself at home. You're not going anywhere."

"I don't like pizza!," You growled. "I want to go home! I have other stuff to do."

"Shhh, shhh, shhh, stop talking, I can't gather my thoughts when you're yapping like a puppy," Higgs finished his pizza and laid on the couch.

"LET ME OUT YOU, PSYCHO!," You yelled and stomped a few times.

He didn't listen. After a long moment he got up and walked to the desk where a laptop was placed. He took it with him and sat back on the couch.

You frowned and moved closer to close the laptop with your palm. "Let me you! Do you understand English?"

"Can you stop yapping, pretty please?," He pulled the hood off his head and furrowed his brows.

"Can you stop being a dick and let me out?!," You growled. "Sam won't just come because I am gone."

"Oh, he'll. I'm mailing him, don't worry, he's going to come for you," Higgs replied. "If I was a dickhead, you'd be tied up and I'd put a rag into your mouth to shut you up. I didn't do anything. I even offered you pizza! Ah, people are so ungrateful these days."

"Says the guy that kidnapped an innocent woman. You want me to be grateful for keeping me here?," You asked in disbelief, crossing arms over your chest.

"Oh-ho, I heard the storm has come! It's better here I think, you're dry and not exposed to BTs. Or... Are you truly safe here?," He smirked wryly and snapped his fingers.

Without a blink of an eye the floor turned into tar and a creature formed out of it. It was a lion BT with a golden snout. It roared at you.

"Holy Beach!," You whimpered and sat on the couch right next to him, pulling knees right under your chin. "Take it away! I am sorry! I will be good!"

The lion tilted its head and shook its mane, roaring and yawning. Next, the creature licked its paw and sat right in front of you.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt you unless I order so," Higgs informed as he was writing the email.

You only nodded your head, too scared to even move or breathe.

"If you need a hug, you can just tell me," Higgs chuckled. "I'm a great cuddler."

Lion hit your knee with its paw, roaring.

"I would never touch you, ever. I am scared of this thing," you explained, pointing at the lion and whimpering loudly when it hit your knee.

"Don't you see? He demands being petted," Higgs glared at you. "Go on. Pet him. Like this," he reached out and stroked the mane made of tar.

You nodded and slowly tried to pet the lion how Higgs instructed you.

It resulted in a loud purring that was followed by a tail wiggling, sending some tar on the walls. Soon, the lion laid down, his belly exposed.

You looked at Higgs. "Really? I thought BTs are more scary," you said and bent down to scratch the lion's belly.

Lion's paw started shaking as you hit the very right spot. The puring became louder. 

Higgs raised his brow while looking at you. "Ah, right. They are scary, indeed. Just don't try this with others outside because they'll kill ya," he reminded. "Ah! Done! Now we only gotta wait for Sam to come and rescue you from the oppression!"

"You think I am that stupid to pet every BT I see?," You asked with a frown. "I don't think he will come but I at least can pet the lion..."

Lion grabbed your arm with both front paws and pulled you to him more so you fell off the couch. 

Higgs chuckled. "I forgot to tell you that he is too demanding sometimes."

"I can see! I will need a shower… Ah, I just took one before I left the facility," You sighed sadly, petting the lion.

Lion opened the snout and trailed its tarry tongue across your face.

You only whimpered and sighed defeatedly.

Soon, the terminal beeped again.

"Your saviour has come apparently!," Higgs informed you excitedly and rubbed his hands together getting off the couch.

He walked to the main door of his bunker and put hood back on. He touched the touchpad on the wall and the door opened. "Ah, Sam Bridges! We can finally meet in person!"

Sam put the case he was holding in his hand down on the stone floor and cocked his brow. "Higgs. We do know each other."

"Yes! But technically you came here to meet Peter Englert. So?," He sent Sam  a wide grin.

Sam let out a sigh. "Higgs. I know you're Peter Englert. Now, can I get Y/N back?"

"Yes, please! I'd like to go home, even if I like the lion!," You yelled from the floor while you were still petting the creature. Too bad you couldn't keep it.

Sam narrowed his brows. "Excuse me, is she inside? How? What for?"

"I'll share a secret with you," Higgs put hands to Sam's shoulders and leaned forward to trace the tip of his tongue along Sam's cheek. "I let her in and she enjoyed our common time."

"Get off, man!," Sam pushed Higgs off and wiped his cheek with the top of his gloved palm. "Y/N! Move on!"

You rubbed the lion's snout. "I started to like you. I need to go now, you cute, little thing. Maybe we'll meet again and you won't eat me then!," You said to the creature and got up to quickly run to Sam. "Hi," you give him a smile as soon as you step out of Higgs' bunker.

Sam measured your figure from the bottom to the top with shock written on his face. "Were you fighting BTs? Did he do something to you?," Sam asked, pointing right on Higgs who instantly shook his head for no, raising his hands up.

“He locked me in his safe room and was rude to me but at least he let me pet his BT lion. It's messy as hell but I really loved it," you explained with excitation, looking at Higgs. "Too bad I can't have one."

Higgs sent you a grin and snapped his fingers once again. Within the blink of an eye once again a little puddle of tar appeared at the entrance and a little BT lion cub stepped out of it, meowing loudly.

"Omg, hi, little one!" You laughed and picked the creature gently up. "You are mine now."

"Hola, hola!," Sam raised his tone. "You're not going to take a BT with you. Put it back, now, I am not joking, Y/N. You won't get the BT from this deluded guy."

Higgs crossed arms over his chest. "Let her. This BT belongs to her now, you would have to chop the cord off."

"Exactly. It's mine," you looked at him with an innocent smile, hugging the cub.

The BT lion cub reached its tiny paw towards Sam, but the man immediately took a step back. "This is sick, ridiculous. What are you thinking, Y/N? That we'll get back to Bridges with that BT hidden in your backpack? And you," Sam pointed at Higgs. He was so done with Monaghan's actions and shady plans. "You better get the fuck out of my sigh, I'm so done and believe me - I would kill you but I know it won't affect you in any goddamn way."

Higgs chuckled. "It's good to be a repatriate after all, huh? Y/N, you can keep the BT," he winked at you.

"What's the fucking point of kidnapping her though," Sam pointed at you, "When you simply let her go? What the fuck is going on!"

You pet the cub and shrugged. "He was really disappointed when I came with pizza. So if I understood it correctly, he didn't plan to hurt me and only wanted to get your attention."

You moved a little closer to Sam. "Trust me, he must be a big fan of yours. His walls are decorated with your pictures," you whispered.

Sam cringed at the simple thought of his photos being attached to Higgs' walls. 

"I planned on killing you," Higgs claimed openly. "But she came instead of you, and she brought a good pizza. So I rethought my idea and today I won't kill anyone. What a lovely day, isn't it?!"

Higgs approached you and Sam and wrapped his slender arms around you two. "What a lovely day for the encounter!"

You cringed at the hug, knowing that Sam must have felt really uncomfortable with this.

Letting out an awkward laugh you patted Higgs' shoulder. "Yes, yes... It's nice but please, can you let us go?"

Monaghan measured your features with his steel blue eyes. "It's a shame such a beautiful woman is wasting her youth on being a porter though," he touched your cheek with a gloved hand and then leaned down and forward to get on the level of your head. "But due to the fact you were rather a good hostage, I'll let ya go," after these words he licked your cheek. "You taste so good."

Sam cringed harder at the sight and simply yanked you out of Higgs' grasp. "I have enough of you, I mean it," Sam told Monaghan who only chuckled. "What's so funny, Higgs? Maybe it's time to get a life, something?"

Higgs rubbed his bearded chin before replying. "You see, Sam, haunting you and turning your life in a fucking mess became one of the most beloved and fascinating hobbies of mine lately," Higgs concluded with a happy tone. "You're so much fun, aren't you? Especially when you're making all those grimaces of yours when I cause the tar being all over you," Higgs summed up.

Sam closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to cool himself down. "Amelie created a goddamn psychotic monster," he summed up, his hands clenched in fists.

"Sam, let's go, okay? You two can fight some other time. If he lets us go, let's use it," you said, petting the little lion in your arms and starting to walk away. "Thank you for the lion!"

"The pleasure is mine and mine only, Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you though. Remember, the name's Higgs!"

Sam dragged you down the hill, right to his car. "Are you insane?"

"Hey! He kidnapped me, did you forget? Okay, maybe more like inviting me inside and locked the door but I felt kidnapped!," You stated. "And since when do you touch anyone?!"

"Since you pissed me off with the childish behaviour of yours, Y/N, he could have killed you."

"Like you see he did not! Overall he was even nice to me. He gave me a little lion!"

Sam let go of your hand. "Don't get fooled by his sweet face," Sam raised his finger up, shaking it in front of your eyes. "He might look cute and behave cute but it's his deluded facade. He's a fucking delusional psychopath who gifted you with the fucking BT. It's nothing normal in this."

"But look. It's my BT now, it won't hurt me or anyone. It will be okay," you said and nodded. "I know but look, he didn't hurt me and I am fine."

"So maybe get back to his bunker and you two can live a happy life, how about that?," Sam growled. "Get in. Time to get back to Bridges as you spent more than half a day with the main terrorist of America."

"I was kidnapped! It's not like I could just leave. You also took your sweet time to get there," you let out a sigh and got in, rolling your eyes.

"I was working and getting throughout BTs territory to get your ass saved, Y/N, so don't bullshit me about me being delayed," he instructed as he took a seat at the wheel.

"Okay, sorry.”

"Ah, and put this fucking thing to the trunk, I don't need the upholstery to be covered in tar," added Sam while pointing at BT lion cub that was on your lap.

"It's connected to me. If the cub is going to the trunk then I go there as well," you answered, petting BT head.

"For fuck's sake. If your sweet tar cub will leave a single tar spot inside, I'll cut the cord, understood?," Sam growled

You rolled your eyes and looked away.

"And please, next time refrain from delivering pizza."

"Not my fault that this is what I get to do. You know that it's not my choice," you sighed looking out of the window.

Sam only nodded in silence. "So at least try to verify to whom you are delivering."

[troubatrain]

sober - m.barzal (pt. five)

a/n: OKAY, now that this series has been reposted I can finally get to the new part that’s been living in my head since i started this series and i hope you guys love it as much as i do

Four - Six

It was one picture.

It was one, stupid Snapchat that you sent in a moment of weakness. One picture of your ass in a pair of panties that you know made it look incredible. So you took it, and you made sure to send it to Mat, who was in Florida road trip. Mat, however, hasn’t let it go since. Mat didn’t let it go when you sent it, giving you a compliment followed by a cocky text about you must have been thinking about him. Mat didn’t let it go the next day, when he sent you a picture of his backside with a stupid caption that it was his turn. He was convinced it meant something, he wasn’t sure what but it was something.

Did it mean anything? At first, you thought it didn’t. Mat was fun to flirt with, his compliments were always a little out there but they were starting to grow on you. When you realized that, you thought maybe it did mean something. He was gone, and you knew what a night off with a bunch of overgrown children could be like. Mat was probably out at some club with overpriced alcohol and beautiful girls who were out of even Mat’s league. You weren’t usually jealous, especially not of another woman because you always lived by the idea that men were trash and they’d cheat anyways. Mat was just the same, there was no reason for you to think otherwise.

“All I’m saying, is that if you sent me that picture, there had to have been a reason,” Mat argues, leaning against his kitchen counter, “I’m not complaining, I just wanted to point out that you were thinking about me.”

“I wasn’t,” You scoff, coming to your own defense instantly instead of just admitting that you were, “How do you know I didn’t send that to everyone else I’m hooking up with.”

“And who are you hooking with exactly? Because I know your schedule is busy as hell,” Mat says smugly, walking over to you and lifting you onto his counter, “Can’t you just admit you like me a little bit? No bullshit.”

“No bullshit, I can’t stand you,” You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your fingers run through his hair, “You just happen to be exceptional in bed.”

“I’ll take it,” Mat mutters into your neck, “So we fucking now or what?”

“One thing,” You start, pulling his head from the crook of your neck where he seemed to make himself the most comfortable, “You need to keep your mouth shut tomorrow night.”

The day had been circled on your calendar for weeks. It was the second game the Rangers were set to play against the Islanders, at home where you’d run into Mat for the first time you remembered. You didn’t not trust Mat, he’d never given you an actual reason aside from the fact that he lived to irritate you enough into taking your clothes off. You didn’t necessarily trust him either, especially when you knew how intense he could get on the ice. The last thing you needed was for him to say something to one of the guys who you were friends with, let alone the group of dumbasses on the team you couldn’t stand. Mat existed to you in a bubble, the walls of his apartment were the only place you’d let your guard down with him even a little bit, and if he couldn’t keep it to himself all of this was going to crumble in front you.

“I’ll be on my best behavior princess.”

“I thought we agreed that nickname was dead?”

“Suddenly, I can’t hear.”

***

Madison Square Garden was buzzing, and Mat could even admit that to himself. He should be more fired up, a rivalry game on a Saturday night would have him flying on the ice during warm ups to get himself amped up to play - especially in enemy territory.  But, Mat was distracted, because all he ever thought about anymore was you.

You were standing by the benches, scrolling through your phone and talking to Chris. Mat was as close to the bench as he could get without being suspicious, stretching on the ice and using it as an excuse to keep his eyes on you.

“Yeah, Y/N’s hot, but she’s such a bitch-” Mat overheard the voice from someone on the opposing team. His head snapped into the direction of DeAngelo, who Mat knew you couldn’t stand to be around, “Plus she gets around so much, why would anyone want that?”

Mat took three deep breaths, trying to keep his focus on the game and that stupid promise that he’d be on his best behavior. He didn’t need to defend you, Mat knew that, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to punch that fucking idiot square in the jaw.

You were mean, cold and you insulted Mat every second you got. You had walls that were way too high and attitude like no other. Mat refused to believe that made you a bad person. You were nice to strangers, you tipped way too generously, and he liked you. It was so childish, the crush he was hiding from you when every night you were both in New York was spent between the sheets. Technically, he had you, but not in the way he was starting to realize he wanted.

The game was a blur as far as Mat was concerned. He snapped one to the back of the net, a cocky smile on his face because he knew you were watching. It wasn’t until he knew the Islanders had this game in the bag that he started to think about what he heard during warm ups.

So he hit him.

Mat left the game with a fighting major, bloody knuckles, and not one ounce of guilt. He definitely hit too hard, and one too many times according to Trotz who was about to pop a blood vessel while he gave it to him after the game. None of the looks or lectures he got could compare to the daggers he was receiving from you when he made his way to the exit after the game.

“I swear I did it for a reason,” Mat defends instantly, hoping he could just talk you down a little bit.

“I don’t believe you,” You mutter, crossing your arms and taking a deep breath, “I’m not talking about this here.”

“Come home with me then,” Mat suggests, but the look on your face screamed that you didn’t want to do that either, “At least let me take you home.”

After a minor debate about who’s apartment they’d be on their way to, you were sitting with your back turned to Mat in the back of a cab on it’s way to his place.

“Why did you hit him?”

The question slipped out of your mouth before you realized it did, breaking the silent treatment you’d been giving Mat. Mat sighs, taking a deep breath and leaning his head back on the seat.

“I don’t want to tell you,” Mat mumbles, tired eyes practically pleading you to not make him admit it.

“What did he say?” You ask, stepping out of the car and following Mat into his building. Mat went silent, prompting to ask him again.

“I’m not fucking telling you,” Mat huffs out, and you immediately went silent. Mat never once raised his voice at you, even if you probably deserved for him to.

“Why not?” You push a little further, slipping into his place behind him.

Your question lit something up in Mat you’d never seen, passion, rage, whatever it was, it had him pinning you against the door with his breath hot on your neck, “It was about you and before you ask, no I won’t tell you because I fucking respect you.”

You crashed your lips to his the second he stopped talking, grabbing Mat by his neck and pulling him as closely as you could. Mat’s hands gripped your waist, tighter than he had before, “Mat, please.”

“Please what?” Mat asks, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin lightly because he knew how much you loved to hate it.

“Please fuck me,” You practically whimper out, a plead that was so weak and out of character Mat almost stopped you to do a wellness check.

Mat’s lips never left yours while you both stripped and walked into his bedroom, a trail of clothes left behind you. The back of your legs finally hit the bed, laying back and pulling Mat down with you by his chain. You felt Mat’s hand leave your thigh, rummaging around in his dresser for a condom and coming up empty.

“Shit,” Mat curses, the universe was giving a giant middle finger to him right now.

“It’s fine Mat, I’m on the pill,” You assure him, a little entertained while you watched him think about how he was going to get a condom in that moment, “I trust you, now please just ruin me.”

Mat chuckles, capturing your lips in an otherwise sweet kiss if he wasn’t letting his fingers slip under your panties, sliding them off and rubbing the head of his cock against your core, “You thought that fight was hot, didn’t you?”

Mat didn’t give you a chance to respond, sliding into you and closing his eyes so he could appreciate just how good you felt. Mat pins your hands above your head, tucking his head into yours so he could get as close to you as he could. 

“Mat, fuck,” you gasp out, trying to find a grip on anything while Mat pounded into you relentlessly. Your orgasm was quick, the sensation of Mat’s bare cock was too much and if you really wanted to dig your grave you would have told him that. His orgasm came in sync with yours while his hips sputtered and his spilled into you with a groan that was so animalistic it could have made you cum again. You thought he was done when he finally slipped out of you, off to clean you up so you could head out of there as quickly as you came.

“Mat, what are you doing?” You ask, dragging out of your words while you watched Mat pepper kisses down your body and stop at your pussy that was dripping with his cum and your own. 

“I just want a taste,” Mat moans, licking one stripe up your folds and flicking your clit with his tongue, smirking to himself when you threw your head back and whimpered, “Too much?”

“Don’t stop Mat,” You plead, and Mat dove face first into your pussy just the same way he’d done that night in the bar bathroom. Mat knew your body well enough by now, and he loved every part of it. He loved when your toes curled when you cum, he loved how you’d pull on his hair because he was just that good, and he liked when you chanted his name like a prayer when you had sex. He knew what made you tick and what definitely didn’t. And two more orgasms later he was laying his head on your stomach while you tried to catch your own breath.

“Good girl,” Mat mutters into your skin, his finger gently gliding up and down your thigh while he watched the aftershocks of your orgasm cause your legs to shake, “Just stay Y/N, let me take care of you.”

“You’re barely able to take care of yourself,” You mutter, tucking your head into the pillow, “But I’ll stay.”

“That’s my girl,” Mat whispers, tossing you one of his t-shirts, one that was soft like it’d been of his favorites.

“Watch it Barz,” You whisper, letting yourself warm up against Mat while he pulls you against his chest.

“If it’s any consolation, I was thinking about you that night too,” Mat whispers into your shoulder, even though he was sure you were asleep. He tightened his grip on you, as if he was afraid to let you slip through his fingers.

And Mat swore, he saw you smile after the words left his mouth.

[tooruluv]

Kozume Kenma x F!Reader x Tetsurou Kuroo ( part 2 )

❝ i’m right here, when are you going to realize that i’m your cure, heartbreak girl? ❞

description: kozume kenma didn’t know the exact day in which he realized that he was in love with you. he knew very well that it was sometime after your first “hello”, but the exact moment got whisked away in the many memories that included you. the problem was, though, that you were in love with and in a serious relationship with the boy he claimed as a best friend.

genre: angst, pining, unrequited love, (characters are aged up as the story continues)

word count: 2,527

warnings/notes: next chapter will be more kenma!! think of it like a back and forth between kuroo and kenma's views but also.. not like that. ANYWAY i love feedback so please let me know what you think!! <3

tag list: @elianetsantana​ @vhskenma​ @jennasquishy8​

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“ it was that summer i learned your number like it was my own. i still remember that first september driving you home. ”

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

Tetsurou Kuroo was a very patient person. But when it came to you, it was the opposite. He fell in love with you instantly, like a grain of sand being washed away by a wave. And the second he realized his feelings, he told you.

You were a year below him, beautiful and intelligent. You didn’t attend Nekoma, but he always found you wherever he went. At the convenience store, you would happen to be checking out. At the mall, you would be in the food court. It felt as though he would see you everywhere, as if fate were telling him to find you.

Kuroo took his shot at flirting with you, though it was unsuccessful because the man may be good looking and quite popular but an awful flirt. You thought it was cute.

So, he was ecstatic when you told him you would go on a date with him.

And that little movie date turned into a million dates. Cue the montage of the both of you, giggling together and having the best summer of your lives. Cue the scenes of water gun fights and laughter, of dancing in the moonlight and falling down hills, of picnics and jumping into pools. He really did fall in love with you in the matter of two months.

He told Kozume Kenma about you the minute he realized he adored you. He told his best friend about the summer romance, talking nonstop about the girl he knew he fell for with ease. Kenma didn’t believe him at first, rolling his eyes at Kuroo’s claim of “dating a girl from a different school”.

But Kenma was observant above all else, and Kuroo knew that he didn’t have to prove it to him. He knew that the second Kenma noticed his lockscreen, he would know that he wasn’t lying.

“That’s her?” Kenma asked at lunch, eyes catching the cute picture of you two as Kuroo’s wallpaper.

“Yes it is!” Kuroo locked his phone again, showing it off. It was a selfie he took, both of you smiling and shining against the sun. It was his favorite picture.

But pictures only last a moment.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Tetsurou Kuroo asked you one night.

You giggled, staring at the most handsome man in the universe, “Of course. I thought you would never ask and I would be pining forever.”

You were crying. That was for certain.

It was September, the crisp air and the reds and oranges brought the world to rest. But you were up, and Kuroo was a phone call away.

“Hello?” Kuroo asked the instant he answered his phone. It wasn’t every day that your summer romance calls you at the asscrack of dawn. In the middle of a thunderstorm, no less.

“Hi.” Your voice was small and choked. Kuroo wasn’t asleep yet, but now his body was fully awake.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you come pick me up? Please?”

You didn’t need to explain any more. You didn’t have to give him a reason to put on some sweatpants, get into his car, and drive to where you told him you were. It was an hour drive but it felt like five minutes.

When he arrived, you were curled on the porch of a cabin with dried tears on your cheeks and his hoodie on (and soaked to the core). He parked his mom’s car and you instantly stood and rushed to the car as if it was the safest place in the world.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offered as you closed the door. You hadn’t looked at him.

“Not really. Just family, I guess.” You shrugged. He watched you shiver a little.

“Here.” Kuroo reached to the backseat and handed you an extra hoodie he had laying there. “It was in my practice bag so it might smell like sweat.”

“Thanks.”

It was the most silent that it had been between the two of you, and you had been together for a little while. Not officially, but a summer’s worth. Small sniffles and little sounds of the rain hit the window were the only sounds.

He decided to reach across the seat and place a hand on your thigh. You shivered at the touch and instantly started to cry harder, grabbing his hand with both of yours.

With your two hands clasped around his, and his still grabbing your thigh, you finally told him of that night. Through tears, you told him about how your family wanted to go to this cabin on the lake for a little get away before it got too cold, but it quickly turned into a million different fights. You told him about how awful your family life usually was, and why you are constantly out with him or with your friends from your school. You told him everything. And he listened.

By the time you were done, you were nearly home. Your eyes were still red.

“You can stay with me.” Kuroo told you as he pulled into his house. You looked so small, with a red face, wet hair, and his hoodie swallowing you. You were beautiful.

You blinked at him. “No, it’s okay. I can just go home. No one is there and…”

“I’m not telling you to sleep with me.” He tried to lighten the mood. You let a smile creep onto your lips, he noticed. “I just don’t think it’s best for you to sleep on your own tonight.”

“I do want to sleep with you.” You said. “I mean… sleep beside you. Sleep in the same bed.”

Kuroo flipped his hand up to intertwine your fingers with his. You were still kind of cold to the touch. “Come on. You need sleep more than I do, and I had like nine tournament games earlier.”

Tetsurou Kuroo was a brutally honest person. His intellect matched his wit, and he knew more than he ever let on. He could very well insult you and compliment you within the same two words. But it was this honesty that started the first decline in the relationship.

But you fell in love with him anyway.

The sun hung low in the sky as the two of you laid on the grass. Kuroo’s legs touched yours as you leaned against his side. The air got cooler and the evening grew.

“You should meet my friends.” He told you. It was his first time offering. It was something that you were kind of nervous about, knowing that he had an entire team that looked up to him and knowing that he was incredibly popular. “I think it’ll be fun.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He turned his head to the side, taking you in with a beautiful gaze. He thought you were brilliant in the sunlight. “I’m sure they think I’m insane, talking about a girl that they’ve never met and think I’m making you up. Oh, and you’ll love Kenma.”

“I finally get to meet the infamous Kozume Kenma?” You chuckled. He did too.

You’ve heard so much of the claimed best friend, and you were intrigued. He sounded like the perfect best friend, for both you and for Kuroo. He sounded to be the perfect piece of earth to ground the cloud that was your boyfriend.

“There’s a party coming up, you have to come.” He started to go off on a tangent and go on and on about his friends, his volleyball team mostly, and you just listened.

You kissed him to shut him up, and he stared blankly at you.

“You’re gorgeous.” you told him.

“And so are you.” he replied.

Tetsurou Kuroo wasn’t an idiot. He was actually incredibly intelligent and observant. However, he didn’t catch the sparks fly off of Kozume Kenma at the very first interaction between you and him. He didn’t see the heart eyes glowing out of Kenma’s head, and he didn’t feel the warmth Kenma grew at the very sight of you.

As your friendship grew with Kenma, Kuroo couldn’t help but be happy. Not only because you were getting along with his best friend, but because he could see how Kenma let down his walls with you. It wasn’t very often that Kenma opened up to anyone. For that to be you meant the world to Kuroo.

One day, after practice and then studying, Kuroo called you. “Hey baby.”

“Hey!” you answered after, like, one ring.

“What’s up, do you want to have a movie night or something?” Kuroo heard noises behind you. “It’s almost Christmas! We can watch a corny Christmas movie and eat terrible snacks.” Another noise from behind you. “Hey, where are you at?”

“I’m at Kenma’s.” You answered. Kuroo didn’t know why he felt his stomach drop, but he deflected it.

“Oh, okay cool!” He started to put on his shoes. “I’m on my way, then.”

“Okay! Hey, Kenma!” Your voice distanced. You were talking to the background noise, aka Kozume Kenma. “Kuroo’s on his way over!”

Not that Kuroo should feel jealous of you hanging out at his friend’s house, but he did kind of feel something in the back of his mind. Because Kenma had become your friend, too. And Kenma’s doors were always open (and he knew how important that was to you).

All of his strange feelings went away the second he entered the house and saw the two of you. The two most important people in his life.

The fights got worse and worse as the relationship continued. They started as small bickerings; “I told you that I didn’t want this!” or “Please call me back, I haven’t heard from you all day”. Simple things that could easily be resolved. They spiraled into a constant fight about things such as “what ifs” (what happens when Kuroo goes to college, what if this happens), and into the same fight about Kuroo being terrible about communication and about you just wanting to ignore the fight instead of discussing it.

By half a year into the relationship, you spent most of your free hours with Kenma.

All fights would end with you calling him. Or just coming over and not speaking. Or even just enjoying dinner with his family. Any reason for why you wouldn’t come home or talk to your boyfriend.

The fight at the time had ended pretty brutal.

You waited and waited at a restaurant, sitting at a booth by yourself. You continued to order waters, typing on your phone to see where Kuroo could possibly be when he promised you that he would meet you for a dinner date. You sat through the stares of the waitresses. You sat through free bread and free water.

After a couple of hours, you gave up. You weren’t even upset, you were angry. It isn’t the first time that he had left you hanging, and you decided that it wouldn’t be the last. You were so pissed off that you texted him one last sentence, “seriously fuck you”.

You stormed into Kenma’s house, rage seething off of you. Kenma only looked up from his game for a moment and moved over so you could sit next to him on the bed.

“I’m guessing the dinner date didn’t go well.” was all he said. You sighed, rolling your eyes and shoving your feet under his blanket. You were still dressed up.

“Don’t even get me started.” You huffed.

Your phone started to ding with Kuroo’s replies (finally, after hours of silence). You just turned off the sound and watched Kenma play.

For a while, you curled next to him and watched him play. He was extremely aware of your warmth, of your heat. He had to stop himself from putting his head on top of yours.

He paused the game. “You should answer him.”

But you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to sit and tell him for the million and first time that he needed to communicate with you. You didn’t want to answer it and hear his apologies. You wanted to sit with Kenma, in silence, and watch him play his stupid (but actually pretty interesting) game. You just wanted to relax after stressing for the past hours.

“Fine.” You clicked the green button the next time it rang.

“Hey babe.” Kuroo sounded solemn. Sincere. Guilty. “Hey. I’m so sorry I haven’t texted you, I stayed after practice for a while and ended up hanging out with some of the Karasuno first years. I totally forgot.”

“I waited there, you know.” Your voice was laced with venom. Kenma had never heard you speak like that, and frankly, he was a little bit scared of you. “I waited. For hours. In the fucking restaurant, Tetsurou.”

Tetsurou. He had never heard you call him that.

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry. You should’ve reminded me!”

“I should have reminded you?” You let out a laugh. Kenma tilted his head. “I should have reminded you? Did you not read my texts or are you just blind? Don’t you turn this on me like you always fucking do.”

It spiraled from there. Halfway through the fight, you turned to Kenma. You muted yourself, vaguely listening to him argue over the speaker.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go outside.”

“It’s okay.” Kenma shrugged. “It isn’t like it’s the first time.”

You bit the inside of your mouth. You squeezed his shoulder before getting back on the phone, heading outside. You mouthed another apology to him as you left.

Things weren’t always that way. The fights and the arguments were just between the love and affection. Because Tetsurou Kuroo really did love you, and you loved him.

It was coming to the end of his third year, and the majority of your time consisted of spending a lot of time with him. You were laying with him at his house. His body was wrapped around yours, your back against his chest.

“Hey, you should join us for the trip this summer.” He asked.

It was still months away. The graduated third years from Nekoma and some from other schools that you’ve seen them go against (Fukurodani Academy, Karasuno, Aobajohsai, some others you couldn’t think of). It was basically “let’s get all of the volleyball boys, and our girlfriends, and get away for the summer after we graduate and get drunk/high every night”.

“Really?” You turned around in his arms. His hand didn’t leave your waist. “You really want me to come along? I thought it was supposed to be just the volleyball boys.”

“No, I know Bokuto is bringing his girlfriend. And so is Tanaka from Karasuno, and I think little Hinata has a girlfriend now too.” Kuroo smiled at you. “You should come. I really want you there.”

You pecked his lips. “Yeah, of course I’ll come.”

That’s how you ended up in the backseat of Kotaro Bokuto’s car in between Kuroo and Kenma on your way to a cabin by a lake.

[alittlebitgoofy]

if i had my way i would be yours - chapter two (taywhora)

i’m pretty proud of manaing to keep to the deadline (mostly i mean it just hit tuesday and i said late last week but it’s basically monday and been a lil over a week) 

this chapter is fun, tayce and her journey with denail and internalised homophobia

ao3 link

“You cunt! Why’d you blue shell me!” A’whora huffed, placing her controller on the table before directing her attention to Tayce. 

“You hit me first, you little hound! I swear, it was like four red shells!” 

“Yeah, but you were ahead of me,” A’whora whined, her frown beginning to form into a pout as Tayce stared at her with a raised eyebrow. “You were first, not my fault.”

A’whora was cute when she was angry. Video games lit up her competitive streak more than anything, leading her to pout and whine whenever she was beaten. Her complaints were currently directed at Tayce, who’d narrowly beaten her in the last race. Bimini watched them with a bemused grin, the more tayce tried to calm her, the more A’whora pouted.

Tayce tried to hold back her amusement, though seeing A’whora turn away from her with an exaggerated huff made her break character, wrapping an arm around her shoulders with a laugh. The blonde squeaked as she was pulled in, quickly wrapping her arms around Tayce and leaning her head on her shoulder.

“You got lucky,” she murmured into Tayce’s chest, curling into her arms further around her waist as the taller girl ruffled her hair. “You’re so competitive, just accept you lost, you little idiot.” “Can you two stop flirting and move so we can do the next race?” Lawrence shook her head, turning to Ellie to mutter something into her ear. The taller woman snickered, catching the attention of the pair, quietly separating before going back to playing.

Tayce shook it off, remarks like that weren’t something that bothered her. Their relationship wasn’t like that, she didn’t like girls, and A’whora was like a sister to her. 

So why did her heart beat faster at the blush on the blonde’s face, why did she need to watch her flusteredly trying to play it off and failing miserably?

She’d always thought A’whora was cute, anyone with eyes would have. Something about her drew Tayce in the moment they met; the way she pouted when anything slightly didn’t go her way, how she laughed at her own jokes, the way her eyes lit up when Tayce laughed at something she said, her dimples showing as she grinned. 

She could admire the beauty of her friend without it meaning anything, right? 

“Tayce! The game is starting!” Tayce snapped her attention back to a giggling A’whora, gesturing to the screen with a shake of her head. 

Fuck, the game. Why did she agree to play again? Ellie had subbed out for Bimini, the five of them somehow making the four player game work. Tayce tried to shake her thoughts, focusing on beating A’whora, hearing her whine about Tayce cheating one more time, both of them knowing she was better at the game but not wanting to say it. 

---

Tayce spent the rest of the time trying to act cool. No one seemed to notice anything off, too attentive on the game and the comments that the loser would always drop, denying a lack of skill and saying it was the game. 

Bimini was too caught up texting their girlfriend to try and swap in to play, it slightly irked Tayce to see people happy in a relationship. Though she’d never say it, it stung knowing she lacked something to get that from anyone. Everything she tried failed, what was she lacking that everyone else seemed to have? 

The more she pondered it she became away from the ongoing tension with Lawrence and Ellie. It was clear something was going to happen soon. The way their attention went to each other instantly. 

They had each other, the idiots just didn’t realise it quite yet. 

A’whora was the only one like her, though she never understood why. She was perfect, sweet, but not afraid to stand up for herself. She was funny, quick witted to a scary extent. She always knew the right thing to say to get Tayce bursting into laughter, though her insults would sting like nothing else, she always knew where to strike. Not too bad to turn people on her, but harsh enough to shake up the person it was directed at. 

The blonde caught onto Tayce’s introspection, quietly moving to grab her hand and making the brunette jump in the process. 

“You’re thinking too hard again, aren’t you?” A’whora titled her head as Tayce turned away, denial. Great. 

“I’m fine, I'm just bored,” she muttered out a response, knowing neither of them believed it, but attempting it anyway. A’whora saw straight though her, grumbling at the lack of proper response before moving closer to her. Her arms found their way around her waist soon after and Tayce had to fight the dopey smile coming to her face from the affection.

“Don’t let them get to you, you’ll find the right person, it just takes time. I haven’t, have I? You’re not alone.” Her tone turned softer, whispering so only Tayce would hear her. 

“Yeah, thanks Rory.” Tayce gave a small, genuine smile, wrapping her arms around her waist back to pull her into another hug with the attention off of them for the time being. 

“I’m still better at mario kart than you, though,” Tayce giggled at the exaggerated pout on A’whora’s lips at the quip. 

She knew she messed up the moment, but it felt too good to see A’whora giggling, her dimple showing enough to make anyone squeal in how adorable she was. 

“We’ve won a similar amount of games! Don’t discount me there, lass!” Tayce just shrugged, holding back her laugh at the pout on A’whora’s face, turning her attention around them to see Bimini looking at them with a raised eyebrow, their eyes flickering back to their phone briefly before continuing to watch them in interest. 

Ellie and Lawrence were thankfully too distracted in playfully insulting each other; it made A’whora and her look tame in comparison to how much they unwittingly flirted. At least it kept the attention off of them, Tayce gestured to whatever they were up to, and Bimini let out a laugh at the mess of them just before figuring out their feelings were mutual. 

The games kept going, keeping the thoughts away for that much longer. She was acutely aware of how A’whora started to lean against her, grumbling when Tayce attempted to move. She huffed more at losses, not deflecting it with jokes as she had been an hour before. Everyone had started to quieten down now, A’whora just happened to be more grouchy than the others the more time passed. 

It wound down as Bimini announced the last game, A’whora having given up playing a while ago to lean against Tayce and mindlessly scroll through her phone. Someone commented on her being suddenly antisocial, to which she just grumbled and turned to Tayce for defence. “She’s just grumpy cause she’s tired, don’t mind her,” Tayce quipped, getting a laugh from their friends as A’whora groaned next to her. “Oh fuck off, you’re supposed to stick up for me.” “You’re like a child who’s up past their bedtime,” Tayce deadpanned, A’whora rolling her eyes at the statement though still stayed leant against her roommate. 

They’d made it home soon after. A'whora was scarily quiet, though Tayce knew it was because she’d spent too much time with people and exhausted herself mentally. She didn’t bother her, only sliding her hand over hers when they got into the uber to get home.

“Are you going to bed now?” Tayce questioned as they got in, A’whora turning to look at her quizzically before responding. “Not right now, I’m going to get into bed and go on my phone for a bit until I fall asleep.” She shrugged, voice laced with tiredness she wasn’t willing to admit to. “Alright, I’m going to play some games until I feel tired, don’t stay up too late. I know how pissy you get when you don’t sleep enough.” “I do not!” A’whora shook her head, laughing as Tayce shot her a look of shock at the denial. Tayce’s presence made her relax, not feeling the social exhaustion so much when she engaged in conversation. “You absolutely do, and don’t try to deny it. You better not be up by the time I go to bed.” “I doubt I will be, but never say never.”

They bid each other good night, Tayce turning to her room to hook up her xbox and play some more. It kept her brain occupied letting the previous thoughts wash away. She didn’t know what had come over her, but it was something she’d shake off soon enough. It took an hour of online playing for her to start to feel the fatigue, turning it off and stretching before going to move to her bed. She remembered A’whora, wondering if she was still awake. It was getting late, and if she wasn’t asleep by now then tomorrow would be a long day. Curiously, she went to check, poking her head round her door to see a sleeping A’whora with her phone on her chest.

Of course the idiot forgot to put it on charge. Tayce laughed silently, moving to put it on charge to avoid the complaints she’d hear the next morning. Tayce felt her eyes linger on her asleep roommate. She knew it was weird to look at her sleeping, but she looked so peaceful, curled up in her duvet with her face half buried in her pillows. She was adorable while awake, this felt like something she shouldn’t get to see, A’whora fully relaxed and cozy in her bed. The brunette left soon after, confused about the lingering image of how adorable A’whora was in her brain. The warmth in her chest prevailed as she started to fall asleep, something in her wishing she could hold A’whora as she slept. Be close to her when she was that relaxed and vulnerable.

She couldn’t think too hard on it before she was asleep, only hoping whatever was going on would pass within a few days.

She never looked at A’whora like that, why would she start now? 

[cartooness]

Mystery March Day 10: Mistake (Her Name?)

Alright my dudes: I know. Tis I, Cartooness, posting a ficlet of sorts. Which I never do lmao.

BUT!

I had ideas OWOWOWOWOWOW

Warning this portrays Mystery in a negative light so if that’s not ya jam, go ahead and skip.

**I START HERE, I’M USING THE READ MORE FOR A DIFFERENT TIME >:3**

SO @nemesis-is-my-middle-name and I were chatting and this is what came out of it XD

In my AU (that’s where my Lavender Grey character comes from lol), since I first made it I thought “omg what if Mystery was like. ‘Afraid’ or just weary of her because of how powerful she is” but now that The Future is out, I’m all “holy fucking shit what if Mystery is almost *jealous* of her because the gang doesn’t want him around her”. They say it’s for her sake (but it’s also for their sake) because they don’t want her to be scared.

He’s both [weary and jealous of Lavender], he’s all “okay. This girl comes LITERALLY out of nowhere and I’m glad they’re giving her a place to stay, she is a child. But this is a very powerful child, one that overwhelmingly outranks me in that field. Why aren’t they afraid of her? Why is it ME that they’re keeping her away from?” 

I guess he knows what he’s done in the past was shitty, but he doesn’t know why this random ass kid owns their heart now when he’s the one who was there first. Ya know, like an asshole.

I wanna say that he makes her cry because he just lets all the negativity loose and he’s caught mid rant by ARTHUR.

So. Mystery has basically been fending for himself for a little while, no big deal. Except he can't stop thinking about that damned girl. What has she done for them? How has she won them all over so easily? Only Lewis was the type to be soft for children, but Arthur? VIVI? Being parental figures? The world has gone mad.

He saw them time to time in that mansion of Lewis's, and they all looked so happy without him. Vivi hadn't seemed to be going on missions anymore, which was beyond shocking. Why not, that child is so powerful any threats would back off if they had a single brain cell.

Not to mention Shiromori was now on the girl's side; he spotted her occasionally checking up on her and putting small blooms in her hair, typically while she slept. It made the child look more innocent than she actually was in his eyes. He remembered when he was the one getting flower gifts and such when Shiromori was on his side. And with a protector like her, the child was practically untouchable.

Mystery flirted with the idea of that girl getting hurt and them coming back to him for help. But he didn't let himself ponder too long, that would be cruel. But he couldn't help but think about it.

What *would* happen if harm came her way?

Would they mourn her if such a fate could happen?

Would they come crying back to him?

Or would they blame him for a tragedy he didn't cause. They just *loved* to blame him.

...

He couldn't stop himself anymore. He trotted his way to that stupid little happy home and sniffed out what room belonged to the girl, the unmistakable scent of raw power and flowers filling the air. He peered into her window, in his dog form, and lo and behold she was there. He yanked the window open and sat on her bed, not caring about getting that sickeningly "cute" comforter dirty with his mud covered paws.

"Oh! It's you, Mystery. Can... I help you?" She was a bit puzzled as to what he needed her for, she thought he was fine being on his own.

Actually my dear, you can.

"Oh?-"

Get out of their lives. You don't deserve anything they've given you.

Her pupils shrunk, taken aback from his remark. "Did I do something wrong? I don't-"

Don't play stupid with me, girl. You are the reason I'm not allowed to be with them anymore, that I've been scorned to never return. You just barged your way into their lives, into MY life and took everything I've worked so hard for away. They're so worried about their 'little princess' that they don’t realize how damn DANGEROUS you are!

Don't they feel that power you possess? Aren't they afraid of you? 

She looked like he ripped her gut out, her eyes welling with tears, irises ever so slightly tinting blue with sadness.

Don't you DARE cry, he growled, you won't get a drop of pity out of me.

"Mystery”, she started, sniffling as she tried to speak, “please tell me-" 

I'M ALREADY TELLING YOU, YOU IDIOT! HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE? YOU RUINED EVERYTHING FOR ME AND YOU’RE ACTING LIKE YOU DESERVE THIS LOVING LITTLE FAMILY? WELL YOU DON'T. *I'M* THE ONE WHO PROTECTED THEM, *I'M* THE ONE WHO KEPT THEM OUT OF HARM'S WAY, THEN YOU SHOW UP AND RIP IT ALL AWAY!!

WHAT ARE YOUR INTENTIONS? WHY DO YOU ACT LIKE YOU'RE HARMLESS? NOBODY WITH POWERS LIKE YOURS STAY IDLE. WHERE DID YOU EVEN COME FROM?! I KNOW YOU'RE NOT HUMAN, SO DON'T TRY AND LIE TO ME. YOU THINK YOU'RE *SO* SPECIAL DON'T YOU?

She was sobbing now, eyes visibly baby blue and tears running down her face.

FOR GOD'S SAKE, SHUT UP WITH ALL THAT CRYING AND-

"Mystery if you don't leave right now I SWEAR I will chop every God forsaken tail of yours off."

Shit.

A-Arthur I-

"Why the fuck are you here? What made you think you were welcome?" His fatherly instinct had kicked in as soon he heard noise from his child’s room and ran over in an instant.

"Lav, baby, go to the bathroom” he started with a kiss to her nose, “so you can go wash your face. I have some business to finish", directing his gaze towards the intruder.

I'm here to open your eyes, Arthur. What has she accomplished while I was gone? What’s been going on with you... five? It seems her army grows every day.

"That is PATHETIC, Mystery."

What is? I'm just stating-

"I don't give a shit about your opinion, you broke into a child's room and you're YELLING AT HER because what, you're fucking....”

He pondered why Mystery was here spreading grief. They did tell him to piss off so that Lav wouldn’t be in danger, and honestly they didn’t need to be so stressed with him in the house all the time either. It’s not a good idea to welcome back a recently possessed kitsune into their home when they were all recovering from the trauma he inflicted. Old and new...

New... is he... 

“Are you,,, jealous of her?" he asked, tone on the verge of shock.

Good lord, this boy.

Arthur, I am here because I care and I worry about you, Lewis, and Vivi. And it concerns me that you've thrown all my help away for some MUTT that doesn't belong-

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" Arthur shouted, trembling and trying not to scream so he wouldn’t scare Lav a few doors down. 

I will NOT, I'm not done yet-

"YES YOU FUCKING ARE.” 

The look of pain and anger was so clear on his face, and Mystery shut his mouth instantly.

"YOU *ARE* DONE BECAUSE YOU JUST RUINED THE VERY MINISCULE CHANCE WE WERE GOING TO GIVE YOU TO PROPERLY MEET HER. YOU’VE MADE ONE TOO MANY MISTAKES."

His voice was cracking, he wasn’t the type to do all... this. Just how much had this girl influenced them?

Arthur, please-

As if on cue, Lavender returned from the bathroom. "Mr. Arthur, am I in trouble?” She asked, big brown eyes looking up at him. “Mystery kept telling me that I did something wrong by being here and it didn't make sense to me."

"What exactly did he tell you, love?" he asked, eyebrows slightly softening just for her.

Oh FUCK. ((A/N: YEAH U DONE FUCKED UP YOU ASS))

She looked almost scared to answer; she was aware the kitsune could be merciless, and didn’t want to be attacked in the mansion Lewis had worked so hard on. Mystery was so angry at her and she didn’t understand why. 

"Well... he told me that I ruined his life because I guess I took his place or something. He said I'm dangerous because I'm more powerful than him, and.. he said mean things about me in general.”

Arthur’s metal hand flew up, ready to attack. 

“Mr. Arthur! W-what are you doing?-"

And Arthur hit Mystery as hard as he could.

There was an excruciating scream of pain, one that caused Lewis and Vivi to abandon the groceries they were bringing in to see all the commotion.

ARTHUR, YOU BASTARD! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!

"YOU MADE MY CHILD CRY BECAUSE YOU HAD YOUR PETTY FEELINGS HURT? FOR SOMETHING SHE NEVER DID? YOU HAD THE GOD DAMN *BALLS* TO BREAK IN, YELL INSULTS AT A KID, MAKE HER CRY, AND THINK THAT YOU WERE IN THE RIGHT?"

Lewis rushed over, trying to calm his boyfriend down. "Arthur, mi amor, what- MYSTERY?! How did HE get here?!”

S h i t.

Vivi felt her heart drop to her feet at the mention of her ‘dog’s’ name. "WHAT IS HE DOING HERE? I THOUGHT WE KICKED HIM OUT!" she exclaimed, her stomach filling with dread.

Lewis, Vivi, if you just let me EXPLAIN-

Arthur almost made a hole in the wall with the pound of his fist. "So this little FUCKER broke into Lav's room to yell at her because she lives with us and he wasn't invited. I come over to see who's in her room yelling at her, and she's crying uncontrollably while he keeps going at her, spewing a bunch of BULLSHIT, and he thinks he can explain himself and why he's in the right."

"....what?" said Lewis and Vivi, shocked by Mystery's audacity.

Lav started to cry again, thinking she would be punished for this, and Lewis quickly pulled her into his embrace. "Mi florecita preciosa, you did nothing wrong-"

REALLY LEWIS? Mystery growled, feeling patronized, especially as Lewis tightened his grip. SHE'S NOT A BABY-

"Shut your snout right now", snapped Vivi. "Get the fuck out of our house and you BETTER not come back. You have ONE chance to apologize to her and that's it."

Can I come back if I do?

"YOU DON'T DESERVE TO COME BACK" growled Arthur, his flesh hand placed gently on Lav's head and his metal one pointing at Mystery, Lewis glaring so hard it could kill.

Nobody was on his side, and the look on the girl’s face almost made him feel bad. 

Almost.

Very well then. I'll be on my way and hope that your ignorance won’t become your downfall.

"Hey Mystery, one more thing", Lewis started. "If you ever come back with bad intentions, we will kill you ourselves. I swear on anything and everything that you will not come here with a DROP of malice towards her. Do I make myself clear? And don’t you dare try and act smart, we are giving you a LOT of mercy when you don't deserve it."

...then I bid farewell. What is her name?

"My name is Lavender Grey."

Thank you. Goodbye, Miss Lavender Grey.

[lochrannn]

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 2/?

-

Lila gets the damn plan B pill, reads through the package slip to check for side-effects, regrets doing that instantly, because she doesn’t actually have a choice and she already knows she’s going to get every goddamn one of them, and then sits down in a café close by the chemists, orders a coffee and a tall glass of water, and then ends up swallowing the pill dry because she just wants to get it over with.

She of course doesn’t get every single one of the side effects but she does feel quite nauseated by the evening and, yeah, she also gets the abdominal pains and the headache. So she takes herself to bed early with the lights turned off in her room and the curtains drawn, but of course she can’t sleep and instead her thoughts keep drifting back to Diego.

She hardly knows the guy and yet she apparently can’t keep her hands off him. Sure, he’s hot. Like… really hot… Tall, built, handsome, maybe a little dangerous with his scars.

Lila rolls onto her back to stop herself from rolling her eyes, because she knows that’s going to make the headache worse. She’s never been this cliché, falling for someone just because he’s a smoke show. And maybe a bit because he’s kind of cute and a bit too cocky at the same time, and yet he’s let her take the lead every step of the way.

Hold on, fallen for him? She hasn’t fallen for him, that would be preposterous, she hardly knows the guy!

Lila’s thoughts keep circling back and forth like that until she’s interrupted by the sound of Diego arriving into the flat and then she can see light filtering in through the crack underneath her door.

She listens for a while as he moves about the place. Then his footsteps approach her room and she sits up in her bed. Diego must be standing outside her door, she realises by the way he’s blocking the light, but he doesn’t knock or do anything else, and after a very long moment he moves away and Lila lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and lies back down after the light outside her room is turned off.

-

It’s not until the next evening that they actually end up bumping into each other.

Lila didn’t manage to drag herself out of bed till long after Diego must have left for work so mercifully she had the place to herself for most of the day.

By late afternoon she’s mostly only dealing with an ongoing headache and a pretty bad loss of appetite.

So not having eaten anything all day, she’s just in the process of smashing some banana onto two plain slices of toast – both a real comfort food and also something that’s easy on her still slightly weak stomach – when she hears Diego’s keys rattle in the front door and Lila steels herself and decides she’s going to talk to him whether he’ll try to chicken out again or not.

It seems he won’t, because without any detour, Diego arrives at the kitchen door only a few seconds later, still wearing his boots, she notes, and Lila watches out of the corner of her eye without looking up from where she’s still crushing half a banana with her fork, as Diego stops without actually walking into the room, and then just stands there, staring at her, nervously fidgeting with his hands.

She’s not sure why, she doesn’t know him well enough for that, but the action immediately puts her on edge. She doesn’t know what she actually wants him to say or feel right now, but she’s certain she doesn’t want for him to feel ashamed or embarrassed about their night together.

Diego clears his throat and says, “Uh, hey…” but trails off then.

“Hi,” Lila says a bit tersely, the pain in her head already increasing with the anticipation of what is promising to be a stupid conversation. If this is how he’s starting, Lila knows exactly where this is going. How does she always end up with these people who, the minute she shows a bit of interest, cool off on her completely? It’s not like she’s been developing feelings, or some nonsense like that, but she’s annoyed that apparently she won’t get the chance to even explore the potential here. Or at the very least get laid like that a bit more.

“Can I… can I talk to you?” Diego asks uncertainly, clearly recognising the funk he’s found her in.

“You’re already talking to me.” Lila points out, knowing full well it’s a shitty way to respond, but if he’s here to tell her he’s not interested in her, she doesn’t see why she should be all polite about it.

Diego’s eyebrows draw together in irritation at that but he’s apparently trying to be civil because he relaxes his features with a sigh and says evenly, “About last night. It’s just, we shouldn’t– I shouldn’t have…” but Lila, half in annoyance and half because she almost feels a bit sorry for him and finds this waffling painful to listen to, interrupts Diego to say, “It’s fine. I took care of it. Took a pill and everything. You don’t have to worry that you knocked me up, or whatever.”

She punctuates that last statement by laying a second slice of toast on top of her half banana sandwich and squishes it down fiercely.

“Uhm… ok…” Diego says, his eyes going a bit wide, Lila notes as she looks back up at him and he’s giving off the very palpable impression that he’d rather be anywhere else right now.

“I… uh… I don’t really know how much that sort of thing costs, but I can give you money for it.” he adds clearly trying to sound helpful.

“Oh please,” Lila says and scoffs, “I can pay for my own bloody morning after pill!”

“That’s not what I…” Diego starts, irritation now clearly audible in his voice, but Lila waves a hand and says dismissively “Whatever. Was there anything else?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. It looks like he’s trying to reign in his increasing annoyance with her and his eyes dart around the kitchen for a bit before they land on her again.

“Yeah, uhm, I just wanted to make sure that you don’t think I have any kind of expectations.”

That throws Lila for a loop a bit, she’s not sure what he’s implying. Could he mean that he has no expectations but might not be disinclined to see about where they could take this after all?

“Expectations?” Lila asks, curiously, her tone a bit softer than before.

“I… uh… I don’t want you to think that… that… that us sleeping together is some kind of condition for you staying here.” Diego stammers his way through his explanation and Lila can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“What the fuck, Diego?!” she says loudly and in a high pitched voice, ”I sure fucking hope not, that’s why I pay you rent! Jesus! Oh how gracious of you,” she’s now breezing straight into angry sarcasm, “you don’t expect me to whore myself out to you for a roof over my head? What a gentleman you are!”

Lila gets up from the small kitchen table and heads towards the door. Diego is still filling the frame looking shocked, as if she slapped him. Good, she thinks. But when she approaches he rallies and says, also in a near shout, but still clearly trying to hold his frustration in, “What?! No! Lila, that’s not what I meant! I… I…” but he loses his thread, or has nothing more to say and visibly deflates.

Diego shifts in the entrance to the kitchen when Lila gives him an expectant look, eyebrow quirked, and she’s glad that at least he’s not going to trap her in this trainwreck of a conversation when he moves out of her way, but as she tries to maybe a little over-dramatically flounce past him, he grabs her arm. Not tightly, she could very easily pull away, but it stops her in her tracks nevertheless.

Lila looks up into his huge brown eyes staring back down at her, his jaw muscle twitching, as he is trying to work out what to say and for a bizarre moment, considering their argument, she thinks he might kiss her. Fuck, for a beat she thinks she might kiss him!

But then it passes and Diego drops his hand and Lila is too proud in that moment to admit that maybe she overreacted, that the combination of feeling like absolute shit and being completely uncertain about where they stood with each other had made her irritable and quick to blow up.

Well, she thinks darkly, as she storms to her room, at least with that outburst she’s created some certainty. She slams her door behind her and then does a bad job of trying not to start crying.

-

Diego is still rooted to the spot a good few moments after Lila’s door slams shut.

Then he knocks his forehead into the door frame in pure exasperation at himself.

How has he fucked this up so badly? He steeled himself for the prospect that Lila'd just been fooling around with him, that she’d had a bit of fun but wouldn’t be interested in pursuing this further. That he could live with. But the idea that he’s gone and insulted her, that he’s really upset her, makes his throat seize up for a second.

Unbidden, memories appear in his mind of Lila lying in his arms, warm and supple, pressing her lips to his own, his cheeks, his eyelids, making him feel all sorts of things, but most of all content in a way he hasn’t in a very long time, or maybe ever, he can’t quite remember.

She’d been so beautiful, so perfect, and instead of telling her that, he’s gone and told her he doesn’t expect her to pay him for her room with sex. What a colossal fucking idiot he truly is.

Diego lets out a shaky breath, walks properly into the kitchen and finds a plastic bowl, turns it upside down and puts it over Lila’s plate of… banana sandwiches? Despite everything that makes him smile.

Then he heads back to the front door, picking up his keys on the way. He thinks he’d best give Lila some space, it’s the very least he can do, so he heads out, certain there’s some case or another that he can work on and maybe just sleep in his office.

[nightowlfandom]

Shoto Todoroki- Quirkless

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

CHECK OUT MY PROMPT LIST HERE!

So the person who requested this asked for a reader who thought they didn’t have a quirk, but in a fit of rage and sadness, she discovers she has an affinity for fire, and goes on a rampage. Shocked by this, Shoto who is the only person who hasn’t bullied the reader confronts her...and then she said I could do what I wanted from there. (She also requested that the reader have a fire quirk like the Human Torch from The Fantastic Four...suspend your disbelief, I’m just lookin out for my people.”

Leggo.

...

“Ack!” you groaned on pain as you hit the ground. Lucky for you, you managed to break your fall before you landed right on your face. A round of laughs echoed around you.

“Get out the way Quirkless!”

You silently stared down at the ground as you heaved yourself up. Quirkless. That was your name around here. You were moreover at the Academy for journalism. Talking about other heros (or villans) would be your future. You, along with the other quirkless students were bullied to hell. Except for Izuku, it was like he was the main character in his own show or something.

Before the embarrassment could set in, a hand came into your field of vision. You looked up and saw Shoto holding his hand out to you. You must have looked silly staring at his hand like it would burn your skin or something. You slowly reached out, praying this wasn’t a joke.

To your delight, it wasn’t. Todoroki helped you stand to your feet. “Are you alright?”

You could only nod in response and do nothing else.

“Thanks...” You began to speed down the hall. It’s okay Y/N, just get to your class and get there quick.

...

“Alright class! Now we’re gonna talk about getting good pictures of poses!”

You boredly leaned into the palm of your hand. You weren’t really interested in flashing a camera in some random hero’s face. You found yourself drifting in and out.

“Y/N!”

“Yes?” You instantly snapped back to reality. The teacher was staring right at you.

“I know this isn’t the most riveting lesson, but try to save naptime for lunch.” he joked lightly.

“Oh, sorry.” you replied, full of embarrassment. You sat up and tried to pay attention. However as you did, you felt a hot gust of air envelope your body. Was it always this warm? Pretty soon, you started sweating. It was way to warm for comfort. You shook your head, trying to brush it off. However the feeling soon. returned.

“Y/N?” the teacher looked at you again. “Are you alright?”

“I...I don’t know.” you replied, your voice hoard.

Before you could speak again, a classmate put a hand on your forehead. “She’s burning up!”

“Take her to the nurse. Quickly!”

...

“You’re body temperature is through the roof.” the nurse showed you her thermometer. “See those numbers, that’s not normal sweetie. You might have a fever or worse.”

“I was fine this morning.” you tried to explain. “I just need... to go back to class.” You hopped off the counter. 

“Young lady I really think we should run a few more tests-”

“I’m okay! I promise!” you put your hands up assurance. “I just have to take it easy.”

You didn’t give the nurse a chance to respond and you swung around the corner and left. Lucky for you, the lunch bell had rung. You were going to go straight home for lunch, you couldn’t deal with anyone else today.

You had turned a corner again only to come face to face with Shoto again. 

“Sorry!” you dug your heel into the floor to keep from ramming into him.

“No. I almost bumped into you first.” he apologized. “Are you alright? I saw your friends taking you to the nurse earlier.”

“Oh I’m fine!” you tried to muster up a polite smile. “I’m just a little warm. That’s all.”

Todoroki didn’t smile often, so it was a shock to you when the corners of his mouth turned up the slightest bit. “Well we wouldn’t want our star journalist to fall sick. I don’t know very many people who can make others look as good as you.”

Was that a compliment? Did he just say that? Were you dreaming?!

“Oh...you’ve seen my works.” you said, ignoring the blush rising on your cheeks

“I have. They’re immaculate.” he replied with that same sideways smile. “I’m glad I found you, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh...Actually I really have to go. It’s kind of important.” you lied. “You can ask me tomorrow!”

Without another word you ran the opposite direction, praying he didn’t notice the glaring crowd of students behind you. Todoroki sighed. You ran off again. He had no idea how he was going to ask you on a date when you couldn’t even stand still for more than 5 seconds...maybe tomorrow like you said.

... (The Next Day)

Fate had a different choice for you than normal when Bakugou stopped you before you could even walk into the building

“Hey Quirkless!” he stopped you in your tracks. Dear God, what did he want now?!

“Can I help you?” you raised an eyebrow at the explosive asshole in front of you.

“Heard somethin’ interesting about you today!”

“And what could that be?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Your parents are heroes, but you’re not!” he bursted out in a fit of laughs. “I bet they were so upset when they learned their child was meant to be a nobody!” he held his stomach as he hunched over. He kept laughing, so loud that you found your blood quickly boiling.

“Shut up.” you said lowly. Your reaction made him freeze.

“What did you just say to me?”

You found yourself grabbing his by the shirt collar and pushing him against a pillar. “I said...SHUT. UP!” You screamed.

Before you knew it, that spike in heat had returned. Suddenly, your hands erupted in flames. The embers traveled up your arms, to your shorts before they began cascading down your body. Yellow completely took over your vision and the fire grew larger and larger.

“What the hell?!” 

Bakugou’s voice sounded distorted and choppy, like a scratched up CD. You instantly released him from your grasp, stepping back from him. You studied your hands...which of course were on fire as was the rest of you.

“....Is that Y/N?” “Y/N? That Quirkless girl?”

Your head shot in the direction of which a crowd was forming. It wasn’t long before the teachers came rushing out of the building. “Y/N!” 

“STAY BACK!” your voice came out in a growl. You were fed up, you were miserable, and you’ve had enough. “Get away from me!”

“Y/N we just want to help you!” 

“I don’t want help....” you sniffed a little. As your emotioned flared, so the the fires until you couldn’t see anyone anymore.

“Y/N just calm down.”

Where was all this help when you were getting thrown against lockers and getting expired milk poured on your head?

You stood in the circle of flames , glaring out out at the havoc you caused. Flames erupted and glossed over trees. All you could see was red. You were blinded by rage. The teachers had tried, but failed. All anyone ever did was fail you in one way or another.

Quirkless...Quirkless..Quirkless.

The students stood in the sidelines, watching in horror. Most of them had known you, a good chunk of them responsible for your bullying.

 There was nothing they could do without getting fried. Except one person. 

Shoto pushed his way to the front of the crowd and began running head first for the roaring flames. 

“SHOTO!” “What is he doing?!” “IS HE AN IDIOT?!”

The young Todoroki didn’t listen, he kept running. It’s not like the fire would hurt him. He entered the circle of fire and didn’t expect what he saw. You were sitting on the ground, hugging your knees. You were sobbing uncontrollably.

“Y/N!” he rushed to your side.

“...Go away.” you murmured coldly.

“What?”

You looked up at Shoto. Despite being completely on fire, Todoroki could make out your tear stained cheeks. “I said go away.” Your eyes were completely white, so it was hard to tell if you were looking him in the eye or now.

“Damnit Y/N.” Todoroki tried his bust to freeze the flames around him, but they grew larger and larger. “What happened to you! If this fire gets any bigger you could destroy the whole school!

“I don’t care!!” you snapped, the fire engulfing your body even brighter than before. “Why should I care about anyone else. No one here looks out for me. N one here cares.” 

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this.” Shoto tried to reason. “You aren’t alone! People do care!” he tried to hold out his hand.

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” You snapped, the flames growing more and more. Although the embers engulfed your body, your felt nothing now. You were completely numb on the inside.

“Y/N, I care about you!” he finally said.

“Bullshit!” you held your hand out and quickly melted the ice block that he had set up around you. “You’re just as bad as they are. You’re just like them! Who could ever love someone like me?” you asked coldly. “Not even last week, everyone was looking down on me, insulting me for being quirkless...and now you’re telling me that now all this is happening. People actually care?”

“I care about you. your teachers care.” He said. “I’ve always cared.”

“Don’t lie to me.” you repeated, only this time you sounded weak. Defeated almost.

“Y/N.” He said softly. He reached out his hand again, his fingers glowing a bright white color. You felt his hand on your cheek. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Shoto watched as your face and hair, which had been completely engulfed in fire had dissipated, revealing your flushed and tired face. You suddenly felt a wash of pain over your chest. The fires around your completely vanished as well, leaving everyone to stare at the two of you.

It wasn’t long before you blacked you. Todoroki had caught you before you hit the ground.

“Get her to the nurse, quickly!”

“Move out of the way!”

[jjmaybankx]

FEEL THAT LOVE | EIGHT · SOIGNE

JJ MAYBANK FANFICTION masterlist

< four < five < six < seven

EIGHT ❀☼❀ SOIGNE .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

soigne (adj.) possessing an aura of sophistication in dress, manner, or design; presented or prepared with an elegance attained through care for the finer details.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

JJ EXCUSED HIMSELF TO GO TO THE BATHROOM.

Kiara found her way back to the two of them before he had left, finally able to leave her parents' side. When JJ was gone, Kiara was able to ask the question that had been on her mind since she had gotten to the party.

"So, what is the full story?" Kiara asked. "Yesterday, when you two left the Chateau, you hardly wanted to leave with JJ, and now you guys are voluntarily spending time together. And don't give me that 'your dad invited him' bull crap 'cause it's not like you guys have to hang out just because of that."

Brielle was silent for a second, moving her hair out of her face. She searched for the right answer, but the only thing that came to mind was last year, a secret she and JJ kept from all of their friends.

"There was another time when we didn't exactly hate each other," Brielle admitted, the words falling out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

"Yeah, before I introduced you two. When you were just my friends, and JJ made you that bookmark," Kiara said.

Brielle shook her head, confusing Kiara even more. She sucked in a breathe and said, "Last summer... JJ and I... ya know..."

"'Ya know...' what? Spit it out, Brie," Kiara said, lightly smacking her arm.

"I lost my virginity to JJ last summer," she whispered quickly.

Kiara's hands flew to her mouth, muffling the scream she wanted to let out as her entire body moved back with surprise.

"What?" she whisper-yelled once she removed her hands, but then she moved them back, as if she couldn't process what Brielle just said.

"It was after a party at the Boneyard. He and I were irritating each other per usual... but a few shots later, and it was like... different," Brielle said, knowing that same 'different' feeling was the one she got the other day. "We weren't even that drunk, I was able to drive home, and we both snuck up that tree in the front of the house into my bedroom."

Kiara watched Brielle's face as she spoke, the way she looked dazed, a soft smile on her face.

"One thing lead to another, and bam, the whole sha-bang," Brielle tried to laugh it off, looking away from Kiara as they fell into a silence.

"Why JJ? Out of everyone, JJ?" Kiara questioned.

"It was something in the moment, I guess. A mistake, as he calls it."

"But you don't think it's a mistake?" Kiara asked.

Brielle quirked up an eyebrow up at Kiara. "What?"

"How do you feel about it?"

Brielle's lips pressed thin to form a line before she said, "I feel like we were young and drunk—"

"Brie," Kiara said sternly, shaking her head. She knew she was lying.

Brielle sighed. She always kept them to herself, all of her emotions and feelings towards her situation with JJ. She suppressed any thoughts that surpassed "We hate each other," and never talked to anyone about how she felt about what happened between them. Neither of them ever had a reason to hate each other, the bickering jut came natural.

They had met for the first time, and she got dropped off by her parents in their fancy car, and she was wearing designer—because her mother put her in it—and JJ just hated her from the start. She just looked so... soigne to him. Sophisticated, delicate, like she didn't know any struggles in the world. Sure, she had been going through the hell she had to endure, but the way she carried herself, she was able to fool so many.

Thus, at the first insult JJ threw her way, she was able to insult him back. She felt challenged by him the same way he was intrigued with her snarky personality, wanted to see how far it would bend before she went home crying to her rich mommy and daddy.

She never did, and maybe that just intrigued them both more.

"Last summer, I thought that maybe, just maybe, JJ and I bickered so much because we liked each other. I mean... it's evident in the books I read, the shows I watch. I started to notice these characters that I liked all at some crazy way of reminding me of JJ. And when it happened last summer, it was right after Tito Dario had left again. So, I was scared about being with someone so intimately, but even drunk, even as infuriating as he was, he asked me if I was okay every step of the way. And then... afterwards I thought maybe we'd put all the hating each other to the side because it didn't feel like we did anymore. But then he was—"

"He was JJ," Kiara said, nodding.

Brielle nodded, letting out a defeated sigh. "Yeah, he was JJ, and we got caught by my parents while he tried to sneak out, and he told me it was just a drunken mistake of two idiot teenagers, and we went back to business as usual."

"He's your enemies to lovers troupe," Kiara stated, earning a blush from Brielle.

"I don't know if I still feel like that," Brielle shook her head. "Last year? Sure, I debated it. But right now? He's a good friend. He saw my bruises and connected the dots, and these past two days not hating each other has been nice, like I've really gained a good friend. That maybe the bickering will stop. And maybe I've lost my mind, but I'm getting this feeling he might feel the same."

Kiara put a hand on Brielle's upper arm, squeezing. Then, she looked around, wondering how long it took JJ to go to the bathroom.

Brielle felt a tap on her shoulder, and she turned around to see Kelce smiling at her.

"Hey, Brie," he smiled at her.

"Oh, hey," she smiled. "What's up, Kelce."

"You look beautiful tonight," he said.

"Well thanks," she smiled, accepting her friend's compliment. "You clean up nice, too."

"The boys went to Rafe's car to like... smoke or something," Kelce said, fumbling with his hands. "Do you wanna dance until they get back?"

She chuckled, nodding. He was her favorite of the Kook boys, so she saw no harm in the request. "Sure, anything for you, dude."

He smiled, and they walked over to the small lawn where she had previously been dancing with JJ. Kiara went into the house, saying she'd go wait for JJ to be done in the bathroom. Brielle let her hands loosely stay on Kelce's shoulders, the two of them swaying to the music.

She enjoyed her time, keeping up with his small talk and laughing at his jokes. He even attempted to dip her, making her laugh really loud.

"See, she doesn't need that blonde Pogue to be happy," Danielle told her husband as they looked at their daughter. "She can be happy with a boy from the Figure Eight."

Kent rolled his eyes, downing whatever drink was in his hand.

❀☼❀

"Damn, that boy pisses for a long time," Kiara muttered, standing impatiently outside of the bathroom.

She looked at the bottom of the door, realizing she didn't see any light from the gap between the door and the floor. Worried, she turned the handle, realizing JJ wasn't even in there. She went upstairs, wondering if he went to use Brielle's bathroom instead of the guest one, but he wasn't in there either. She rushed outside, wondering if they just didn't notice each other in passing, but there was no sign of the tall blonde. She made her way through the crowd to Brielle.

Kelce and Brielle stopped dancing at the out of breath Kiara.

"JJ's not in the bathroom," she said.

Brielle moved away from Kelce, telling him she had to go.

The two girls searched through the crowd, trying to find JJ. Unknowingly, Kelce had rushed to the side of the house, neither girl seeing him do so.

"Topper, Rafe, stop it!" she heard Sarah's hushed voice.

"Dude, Brielle's gonna be here any minute, they already noticed he's gone," she heard Kelce's voice.

"What the fuck..." Brielle cursed.

She followed their voices the side of the house to see Sarah trying to pull her brother towards her. She and Kiara broke into a run towards them as they realized the three Kook boys were encircling someone.

"We're just asking him some questions, Sarah, chill," Rafe told his sister. "About why this dirty Pogue is here."

"Hey!" Brielle yelled, gaining their attention and squeezing her way into the circle. She looked at Kelce, bitterly remarking, "Smoking in Rafe's car, huh?"

JJ was pressed against the wall of her house, and she instantly scanned him for any new marks, but he looked untouched.

Topper put his hands up in defense, taking a step back while his friends backed up, too.

"Don't worry, Asian Beauty, we're just having a little talk with JJ here, right man?" Topper asked, patting JJ's shoulder.

The blonde's jaw was clenched and his hands were balled up into fists as he stared hard at Topper and Rafe. Brielle moved closer to him as Kiara came closer too, glaring at Sarah. Sarah gave her an 'I'm sorry' look.

Brielle just nodded at the blonde, knowing Sarah was trying to stop whatever harassment was going on at the hands of her older brother and boyfriend.

"This is just sad, Rafe," Brielle said with folded arms. "You're eighteen, maybe start acting like it."

"Look, Brielle, I'm just looking at for you," Rafe said, scoffing. "You're one of us, and we saw you dancing with basket case over here, just had to check his intentions. You're my sister's best friend, you're basically my own baby sister."

She just mocked him, rolling her eyes.

As the three boys walked away, she grabbed Kelce's wrist.

"I thought we were friends," she whispered, seeing the hurt look on his face as she let go and he walked away.

Kiara and Brielle turned to face JJ.

"Did they touch you?" Kiara asked him.

"Nah," he said, shaking his head, but there was an emotionless expression upon his face. "But even if they did, I could've whooped all of their asses."

"What happened?" Brielle asked, placing a hand on his arm.

"Nothing," he shrugged her hand off, stepping away from her. "I think Imma head home."

"W-what?" Brielle asked, her and Kiara following after JJ.

"JJ!" Kiara called as he got onto his bike despite the fact that he was still in his fancy clothes and his normal clothes were upstairs. "Why are you leaving, what happened?"

"I just don't wanna be a charity case anymore," he exclaimed, turning around to face both girls.

They both shared a look and then looked at JJ. Brielle stepped forward.

"What did Rafe and Topper tell you?" Brielle asked them.

"That Mr. Mac is just so damn charitable, Kookie! That I'm just some poor boy from The Cut, and now he wants to take me under his wing, provide for me in a way my old man can't," he said, his tone sarcastic. "But guess what, Kook? I don't need your guys's money or home cooked meals. I can get by fine by myself. You guys can go find someone else to buy fancy clothes and feed at night, because I don't need your damn pity. Especially not from you, not when you're so privileged and know nothing about how hard it is for the working class."

"JJ!" Kiara scolded him, and he just got back onto his bike.

"I'll see you later, Kie," he said, letting his eyes linger on Brielle for another second before he peddled away.

She clenched up her fists, angry.

"Why am I not surprised," she muttered, shaking her head as Kiara pulled her into a hug. "Of course, every time I think JJ and I are getting better, he proves to me that we're not."

❀☼❀ nine >

❀☼❀ taglist let me know if you wanna be added!

@ellystone @wicked-laugh @spilledtee

[copias-thrall]

Hulloooooo! Do you have any headcanons about how Copia and Papa 3 would be in bed with each other?

These idiots.

Thirst below

*m/m, really rough sex*

What you have to understand is these two are basically a walking Enemies to Lovers tag.

Copia shows up on the scene and Papa III is hella suspicious. Why is this man here at this Church. There are so many senior clergy members here, why add another? And to add insult to injury the guy isn’t even flaunting his favor. He’s just. Always in his office working or attending to the education of the Siblings. They guy’s just such a square. He’d been expecting to hear poor performance reviews of The Cardinal’s Sibling initiations, but on the contrary—he seems to have … groupies. It’s beyond maddening. He’s determined to show this man how unwelcome he is here at any opportunity. 

Copia himself is wondering how he ended up here. He’s not really the political type, and that’s maybe what landed him in this predicament—he’s pretty much a neutral party who is devoted to the Church and does excellent paperwork. He wasn’t exactly expecting a warm welcome from Papa III, but the level of disdain and vitriol the man directs at him is beyond unwarranted. That man is a spoiled brat, surrounded by yes men, and he wouldn’t know what a Form 38a § G was if it slapped him in the face. Which is what Copia would love to do every time he goes to III’s office to find him there with a Sibling under his desk.

And then the pranks start.

Stupid, little things. Surprising in how juvenile they are. A whoopee cushion placed under his seat pillow in Chapel. A tack on his office chair. Sugar in his salt shaker and salt in his sugar bowl (and ok: after finding the sugar in his salt shaker he really should have checked his sugar bowl, so that one’s on him).

Honestly, Copia had assumed it was the Ghouls or bored first-years. But then one day he has to double back to his office to retrieve a file he overlooked, and he catches III in the act of—well he’s not sure, but there were pulleys involved. Copia saw that his door was ajar—unusual, but not immediately suspicious. The sounds, though, were. Copia had slowly swung open the door—his palm flush on the wood—to reveal III, slightly bent over, fiddling with ropes, the clunk of the metal pulley loud in the relative silence. Perhaps sensing a shift in the air around him, or a change in light, III had turned to look at the doorway and froze. Copia looked at him. Papa III had looked back. They has stood like that—a cursed tableau—until III at least had the indecency to look ashamed. He’d quickly gathered up his … contraption … and scuttled down the hallway, Copia just standing there, motionless and mute throughout the whole.

And maybe that could have been that. The prank war could have ended with Papa III’s embarrassment and the two of them continuing to have a quiet, but markéd, distaste for each other. But Copia did not rise through the ranks on his studiousness alone. You have to be somewhat dangerous if you want to ascend and you’re not of the Emeritus line.

Copia lets III fall into a false sense of security. He barely shows any acknowledgement that he caught him red handed. And Papa III seems begrudgingly grateful that Copia didn’t report him to Sister Imperator; he thinks there’s an uneasy truce. 

But Copia is a patient man. 

The dark solstice is upon them. The shortest day of the year. The time where it is more night than day. It’s not one of their High Unholy Days, but it is a time for new sins and wanton revelry—so one could say it’s an important holiday to the Church. It’s a service III can perform by rote—a few updates to the Latin sermon every year, but basically it’s a boilerplate by now. So he doesn’t really practice it. Just sends it off with his few notes to have it rewritten cleanly.

The service is usually excruciating—the Ghouls and Siblings are counting down the minutes til they can fuck and drink all night; many of the permanent clergy members have heard this sermon for years; Papa III himself is bored with it. Only Nihil, Papa I, and Sister Imperator seem to actually be enjoying the pageantry of it.

This year though, as soon as Papa III gets a few lines in, there’s a hushed tittering in the crowd. III ignores it because: it’s probably just some tomfoolery. He’s more or less spaced out, his brain on autopilot as he sings out the words to the verse. It’s when the murmurings turn into stifled giggles, and he tunes in enough to see Imperator glaring at him, does what he’s actually saying dawn on him.

Oops, I did it again / I played with your heart, got lost in the game / Oh baby, baby / Oops, you think I’m in love / That I’m sent from above / I’m not that innocent /

He stutters and pauses; he picks up the sheaf in front of him, squinting.

Yes.

Oh yes.

His solstice sermon has been replaced with the lyrics to “Oops, I Did It Again.”

He chances a look over to the pew with the Higher Clergy—to gauge from his father and Sister how bad it is—but instead he catches the eyes of an expressionless Cardinal Copia looking deadass back at him. Papa III narrows his eyes and meets The Cardinal’s steady gaze, their white eyes at war. He proceeds to finish his altered sermon with as much pomp and severity that he can lend to an outdated pop song.

His eyes don’t once leave The Cardinal’s.

Afterwards, Papa III is on his way to having a full on hairy conniption. He manages to make it back to his office before he tears off his ceremonial robes in a rage. The Ghouls attending him are surprised and concerned at his uncharacteristic carelessness with his vestments. He hurriedly shoos them out, and then sits down at his desk, panting in ire. He’s not one that angers easily, so he’s unused to the pounding adrenaline. Taking out his aged Scotch—the bottle he really keeps in his desk just for show—he pours himself two fingers (if “two fingers” means the space between his index and pinky fingers) and swallows it down in two gulps, coughing and sputtering at the burn.

It’s enough to take him out of his snit a bit to consider why he’s so angry; it’s not like this particular holiday is of great importance to him, and it’s not like in general he doesn’t find the services tedious. Lucifer, it’s not like doing a dramatic reading of a pop song is out of character for him.

But he would never, never, be so ostensibly irreverent during an important occasion. The heavy eyes of the Church—of his father, of the Sister—are ever on him, watching, waiting. Cardinal Copia made him look like an asshole in front of the whole congregation—and because it’s so on brand, no one probably even thinks it was a joke on him.

And that’s what’s making him incensed: at a time when his tenure as Papa is so precarious, The Cardinal made him look like a buffoon. 

Papa III’s blood boils all over again and his fists tighten. Cardinal Copia crossed a line, may have even done it with malicious intent, and he needs to pay, that Rat.

He takes a generous swig from the bottle before making his way to The Cardinal’s quarters. Unlike III, Cardinal Copia’s office and personal chambers are in the same suite, so he knows there’s a good chance of catching him as he’s changing out of his cassock and into one of those ridiculously tight suits he owns.

Copia has to admit to himself that maybe he took his revenge too far. He was only trying to show Papa III that he’s not a pushover. Given the man’s reputation, Copia didn’t even consider how thrown that man would be at his little switcheroo prank. But there had been a—a what? A sudden slight paleness to the unpainted skin around his face; a moment of panic in his mismatched eyes. He’d continued on with gusto, but there was none of the humor in it that Copia had come to associate with the man. In all honesty, Copia hadn’t expected III to continue (or honestly get so far)—he’d had the correct sermon under his own seat ready to hand over.

This was a Papa he’d expected to linger and joke with his parishioners—instead, III had hustled out of the chapel in a flurry of swirling robes, hardly paying any heed to the Siblings that batted their eyelashes at him in hopes of being one of his chosen revelers. Copia is at war with himself between wanting to apologize and scoffing that the man had brought it on himself, even if Copia had miscalculated.

Everyone knows how pranks can escalate.  

Copia is halfway through the ties and clasps and buttons to get out of his dress cassock when his door bangs open (he hadn’t thought to lock it because he’d assumed everyone was already out on the grounds celebrating). Papa III stands there, panting, with murderous intent in his eyes.

As expected, Papa III finds The Cardinal in a state of half undress (his shapely legs bare and exposed) in his outer office. He’s stopped his ministrations, as if caught in a freeze frame, and staring wide-eyed at Papa. III had come here to really lay into the man, but something about seeing him so caught off guard—like he’s more concerned about changing into his party clothes than how he’s ruined this night for Papa—sets something off on him. Before his brain catches up to his impulses, Papa III is launching himself at The Cardinal, fist drawn back and ready to strike.

But III is a lover, not a fighter. He throws a punch like he’s launching a paper airplane, and The Cardinal easily deflects his attack and—in what can only be a practiced movement—uses his momentum to pin his arm behind his back. He struggles and The Cardinal instantly releases him, hands palm up in appeasement.

“Your Unholiness, please—” starts Copia, but III isn’t here to talk. He goes for Cardinal Copia again, and Copia—expecting another fist—is startled when the palm of III’s hand lands a slap across his cheek. He looks at III, incredulous.

“Did you? Did you just slap me?”

Papa III huffs and raises his chin at The Cardinal.

“Come at me. Bro,” he says in his accented English.

The Cardinal’s mouth drops open, and—before Papa III can relish what he thinks is his victory—Cardinal Copia slaps him hard, right on his cheekbone. Papa is momentarily startled, reflexive tears threatening to spill. When he catches his breath he sees that Cardinal Copia’s eyes are smoldering at him in obvious challenge, so he launches himself at The Cardinal once again.

They both raise their hands to each other, each strike being batted away by the other, until they are both embroiled in very involved, very mature slap fight.

“Stop that!”

“No, you stop that!”

Suddenly Papa III gains the upper, err, hand by gaining a hold on The Cardinal’s wrist; he wrenches it and uses his leverage to push Cardinal Copia on his back onto his desk. The Cardinal goes sprawling, his half undone cassock spreading and exposing his bare legs again. Is he wearing nothing on at all under his ceremonial dress!?

“I see you like to go nude. Let me help you further, dear Cardinal.”

Before The Cardinal has a chance to push him away, III grabs at each side and rips his robes down the middle, belts tearing and buttons popping to scatter every which way, the sound of them skittering across his desk and plinking of the floor now filling the room. The Cardinal grasps frantically at the material, in a vain attempt to keep himself somewhat covered.

Papa III is now panting over The Cardinal, between his legs, and suddenly very aware of the miles of naked skin. Copia is looking up at him with … an unreadable expression. III leans down, gets right into The Cardinal’s face, and says lowly:

“To think I thought of you so chaste. But look at you. Does it give you a thrill? The knowing you could be caught in a compromising position? Or is it the sensation you like, hmm?”

He runs a gloved finger down the sliver of bare chest to where Cardinal Copia is clenching the ends of fabric together with one fist over his crotch. He continues his trail over The Cardinal’s knuckles. His dick gives an interested twitch.

“Even here?”

Copia’s heart is beating fast from the adrenaline; it was foolish of him to forget that he was dealing with a dangerous predator. And now here he is, under him, literally showing his vulnerable belly. Papa III is well within his rights to do anything, take anything, from him. It sets off a tingle of butterflies in his chest.  

While III is distracted with his nethers, Copia uses his other hand to grasp Papa III by the hair. Copia yanks his head down, hard, til their lips meet in a painful smack. He opens his mouth to suck Papa’s plump bottom lip into his mouth, then bites down hard, drawing blood.

III makes an indignant noise, his hand suddenly coming up to grab at Copia’s jaw to hold it firmly in place from further injury. His eyes glare a warning.

“Is that how it is to be, Rat?”

Copia just snarls against the grip.

Papa’s hand slithers from Copia’s jaw to lightly clench around his neck. Copia gasps as much as he can with the restriction, his hands coming up to grab at Papa III’s arm. His ruined cassock falls open completely to reveal that the only thing beneath it is a black g-string. III looks down at it and chuckles.

“What a surprising Rat you are.”

His other hand snakes down between their bodies to yank and pull at the g-string until Copia’s half-hard cock bounces free, betraying his interest in the proceedings. Papa III’s eyes widen as he takes in the girth and size of Copia’s member. Looking back up at Copia with a smirk he says:

“It is no wonder then. Why you are so popular for Initiates.”

“Shall … I  …” wheezes Copia, “Initiate … you too?”

Papa III is studying his face intently.

“No. No, as leader of Church I feel I have been … remiss in my, ah, duties.”

He runs a light finger up the vein in Copia’s cock, which only plumps it into further hardness. With all the blood rushing into either his head or his throbbing dick, Copia is beginning to feel a bit light-headed.

“As high-ranking official, you must be seen to myself. Forgive my negligence, yes?”

Papa III finally lets go of Copia’s neck only to insinuate himself further into the V of his open legs. Copia is momentarily distracted as the air flows freely into his lungs again, and it’s enough for III to start manhandling him onto his stomach. Copia isn’t going to make it easy for the bastard, so he starts to struggle against Papa, who only makes a tetching noise before slapping him across the face.

“Learn your place, Cardinal,” he growls. “This is what is lacking with you, no? You must learn this anew. I am in charge still. You follow my command.”

“When you do any actual leading, I’ll be sure to follow,” hisses Copia.

Papa III snarls at his insolence, and is suddenly on Copia, turning him over in a burst of rage while also tugging his tattered garments free. He pulls the shreds of the cassock away just enough to not be a hindrance, but not enough that Copia has free use of his arms—they’re still caught in his sleeves and now firmly behind his back. Copia has no leverage, but he starts bucking and struggling anyway; Papa just lays a firm hand on the middle of his back and commands him to settle.

Copia huffs; his cheek is squashed into the desk, all his papers are scattered—some crinkling under him—and the edge of the wood is digging into the pudge of his belly. His cock dangles heavy between legs. Copia wishes he had something to rut against—he’s half turned on and III is being a goddamned tease, as usual.

There’s a rustling and movement behind him before he feels the poke of Papa’s hardness against his ass cheek. He tenses.

Papa III isn’t really sure when his anger turned into lust. Or was it always lust—or is it still anger? All he knows is that he has to have this man beneath him. Has to subdue him and assert his authority in some meaningful way. And he’s not immune to the miles of freckles stark on pale skin or the prominent flesh of which he can take handfuls.

He’s been hard ever since he saw The Cardinal’s cock on its way to full mast. So The Rat likes a little dominance, eh? He’s more than happy to show him who’s boss here. He works his cock and balls free through the slit in his pants. He’s going to fuck The Cardinal with his clothes on. He rubs his cockhead into the meat of The Cardinal’s ass, delighting in the jolts of pleasure from the pressure and the visible trail of precum he’s leaving. The Cardinal is trembling and breathing hard beneath him as his takes his pleasure, and it gives him sudden pause, causing him to stop. He’s about to ask Cardinal Copia if he should cease, when The Cardinal looks over his shoulder at him and huffs impatiently,

“Are you waiting for an invitation?!”

Papa III slowly drags his cock from the meat of Copia’s ass to the cleft.

“I was, actually.”

The Cardinal snorts, “Get the fuck on with it, you brat. Is this how you lead, Your Unholiness?”

III growls in frustration at this infuriating man.

“Shall I take you dry, then?”

He spreads The Cardinal’s cheeks and presses the tip of his cock against his hole. Cardinal Copia hisses.

“Ai! If you can’t use spit then there is lube in the top drawer.”

Papa III scoffs. Spit is so … uncouth. Only to be used when absolutely necessary—he is not an animal. He flounders for the drawer and fumbles for the bottle.

“Lonely nights, eh Cardi?”

The Cardinal leers back over his shoulder. “As you say—I am not unpopular with our Siblings.”

“I see. You are like that trike you ride around, except everybody has a go, no?”

“Just what the pot would say to the kettle.”

After removing his gloves, Papa III haphazardly dribbles some lube on his cock and down Copia’s crack—making sure to rub it into his hole. The Cardinal jolts forward—either at the sensation of Papa’s fingers or the coolness of the lube.

“I would not be so mouthy If I be you, Cardinal. I will show you your place and then things between us will be settled, yes?”

“Shall I say yes and appease you?” quips The Cardinal. 

How a man nude and about to be fucked stupid can be so flippant is past Papa. Unceremoniously, he pushes into Copia’s snug ring, exhaling forcefully at his tightness. The Cardinal lets out a punched breath.

“I should very much like your attempts to appease me, Rat,” Papa III says through clenched teeth.

He slides in to the hilt, leans over The Cardinal’s back, and hisses in his ear:

“Will you be a good Rat and appease your Papa?”

The Cardinal lets out a rumbling moan.

Copia is so very full and stretched. He’s no stranger to bottoming, but the Siblings tend to prefer him on top, so it’s been a while. Papa III’s cock feels amazing—just enough to fill him without being obtrusive. Now if only the man will get to it and pound into him hard enough to stimulate his prostate.

“So much … talk. Very little action—just like your leadership,” he says hoping to goad his superior.

Papa III growls and begins to snap his hips into him roughly

“Let’s see if you can handle my big game, hmm?”

Fucking finally.

III drapes himself over Copia’s back, crushing his arms uncomfortably, and boxing him on either side with his arms. Copia hears the man’s panting in his ear and feels the drag of his waistcoat on his uncovered skin. The fill and drag of his cock inside Copia has him shuddering and wishing for some attention on his own dick. Papa is pumping into him fast and hard, but is only really hitting his prostate every several thrusts, which is only a teasing pleasure. With his motion restricted by his own cassock and Papa’s weight, he can’t do much more than grunt out a tempo to each greedy thrust.

“Is this how it is then?” wheezes Copia. “A supple body to masturbate into? No wonder the Siblings come to me.”

Admittedly Papa III is initially enjoying the tight feel of The Cardinal’s body around his dick too much to think of the man underneath him. He’s not one to be rough with his lovers unless they ask him to be, and even then that’s just a game. But The Cardinal is not his lover, this is not a game, and he feels a thrill at the freedom to take out his frustrations on Copia’s body. 

Still. He prides himself on being attentive in the sack, so he slows his thrusts, making sure to pull almost all the way out before sliding back in, though his dick is throbbing with need. He positions his mouth at The Cardinal’s ear to ask:

“Do you think you’ve earned my attentions? Have you learned who here is in charge?”

“If I say ‘yes’ will you touch my cock?”

Papa III is thoughtful for a second.

“No. For that you are to beg. Repent and I will bring you to such lustful heights that you will pray to our Master.”

Despite the lip of the man, The Cardinal is quivering under him. Papa III leans up so he can adjust the angle of Copia’s hips and his thrusts. He does this until he hits the angle that makes the man below him moan wantonly. Now that he knows where the sweet spot is, III starts punching into The Cardinal again, his hands on his hips to drag him back forcefully.

“Is. This. What. You. Want?” asks Papa, making sure to punctuate each word with a hard thrust. The Cardinal lets out a gasping Uhn at each hard jolt. “Shall. I. Make. You. Cum. Just. Like. This? On. My. Cock? Or. Will. You. Beg?”

Papa lets himself luxuriate in the tight feel of the slow drag up and down his cock. He could cum very easily just like this if he wanted—but he’s had years of practice on holding off until his sexual partners cum. The Cardinal is in for a long night if he thinks he can wait him out.

Fuck

If Copia thought the tease of his prostate was bad, this concentrated assault is worse. He can climax readily from a good prostate massage, but this is not that. It’s enough to have his desire flowing and his blood pooling south, but the hill of his orgasm remains frustratingly out of reach. He’s truly at Papa III’s mercy. He can occasionally feel his dick throb inside him, but other than that III shows no signs of getting close. 

Copia squeezes his eyes tighter as he’s jolted against his desk, papers crumpling further. How much longer can he go on like this? He tries for as long as he can, his world narrowing down to the drag of Papa’s cockhead on his prostate and the grip of his hands on his hips. He’s so lost, floating in a haze of near pleasure, that he doesn’t realize his grunts have turned into whimpers of distress. Not until III stops to pet a hand down his head.

“Dear Cardinal. Pride is not the correct sin to indulge here. Will you not let me absolve you?”

His dick is hard and pulsing, and his need to cum is excruciating. And that’s before Papa III begins pounding into him once more. Copia lets out a moaning whine as the white-hot bursts start up again. Before he realizes what it’ll mean, he’s gasping out a pained Please. There’s a slight pause in the man above him—as if he too is surprised at Copia’s entreaty—then a hand snakes under him to give his flushed dick a hard squeeze. Copia gasps at both the pleasure and the pain in the action.

Papa III leans over him again to snarl in his ear, “Now you will pray.”

And pray Copia does as Papa pounds into him and as his clever fingers stroke and manipulate weeping cock.

“Oh sweet, Unholy Lucifer below!”

Papa III had really thought he’d have to torture The Cardinal until the man couldn’t help but cum on his cock, so he was startled when the man gasped out his supplication. He really was appeased.

He’s entranced with show beneath him: The Cardinal is twitching and thrashing and clenching—and it’s making his own cock throb with need. He wonders how hard he can make Copia cum and a sudden burst of desire from his own gut has him purring out a moan. He strokes the man’s cock, making sure to switch it up enough—a slow stroke, then a thumb across his slit, now a squeeze before speeding up—that each change makes The Cardinal jerk in a new crest of pleasure.

III hopes The Cardinal will cum very soon because he would very much like to let himself climax already. As if in answer, Papa feels the dick in his hand get rock hard a second before he feels Copia’s hole tighten vice-like around his own dick (and he subsequently has to breathe out hard so he’s not cumming before he rides out The Cardinal’s climax).

Then The Cardinal is jittering and spasming while yelling, “Ah ah ah—oh fuck! OH FUCK!” The cock in his fist kicks and Papa III can feel the pulsing waves as his cum shoots out and onto the rug; he tries to keep a steady pace through it, but he’s only a man. The Cardinal spends his whole orgasm jerking and twitching, only coming to rest once he’s good and truly milked empty.

Papa releases The Cardinal’s cock quickly so he can grip back onto his hips for the leverage to finally take his own pleasure. He closes his eyes and fucks hard into The Cardinal’s body as he allows his checked desire to wash over him.

“Ah—yes, Unholy Father.”

He lets the pulse and spasm of his orgasm guide his movements as he empties himself in the warmth of The Cardinal’s hole. He allows himself to stay like that for a moment—hands on Copia’s love handles, slightly bent over him, and panting—while he catches his breath and comes back to himself. Beneath him The Cardinal is a mess: he’s covered in sweat that’s dripping down his sides; the black makeup around his eyes is streaked down his face; there’s some torn paper, now moist, sticking to his cheek.

“Good talk, eh?” he pants as he pats Copia’s sweaty flank.

The Cardinal’s head lolls to the side as he attempts to look him in the eyes.

“Fuck you.”

Papa III chuckles. “Maybe next time.”

Copia doesn’t know if Papa III was kidding, or if he was expecting Their Thing to happen again, but it takes Copia by surprise when it does.

Repeatedly.

If III was thinking that he’d cowed Copia, he was wildly mistaken. Their rivalry only intensifies and if you saw them glaring at each other during sermons or Church rituals, you enter their offices at your own risk lest you get an eyefull. (Some impetuous Siblings and Ghouls will try their hand at joining in, but a dual glare from both their mismatched eyes is enough to send anyone straight to Hell preemptively.)

Not even the confessionals are safe. You don’t even have to get far into the Chapel before you can hear their grunts and barbed words.

The Clergy isn’t really surprised by this turn of events. The two men have been eye fucking since day one. Papa Nihil is resigned that even the promising Cardinal has fallen under his youngest’s spell. Sister Imperator just rolls her eyes and hopes they’ll eventually grow tired of each other and work can get back to being done. She’s only one woman.

It’s one day months into their—ok yes—tryst, that Copia realizes that they haven’t been hate fucking in weeks.

He’s lying in Papa III’s bed as the man himself draws nonsense patterns in the sweat on his chest. Copia had come to him after a frustrating day of first-years who seemed to only have two brain cells amongst them all. He’d vehemently expressed his vexation at their almost willful refusal to retain Latin, knowing Papa would take him in hand and fuck the annoyance out of him. What had started as his attempt to berate Papa III for allowing the new Siblings to be so lazy and a good hate fuck to shut him up, had turned into a genuine arrangement.

Copia’s come to appreciate the care Papa III takes with him, even if it is with mock irritation as he calls him “Rat.” He’s realized that III cares about the Church as much as he does, his verbal sparring with the man enough to prove that he knows his stuff. It’s not that the lackadaisical playboy is an act—it’s not—it’s just hiding deeper waters. He’s shocked to find that he cares for this intemperate man.

He turns his head to look at him.

Papa III stills his hand to return his gaze.

“What is it, my Rat?”

“I think I like you, Papa.”

III’s whole face brightens and he sits up, puffing out his chest.

“Of course you do! Everyone likes Papa. I am the bomb dot com.”

Copia scoffs and pushes at his chest.

“I hate it when you purposefully use slang half your age.”

But III just clucks and wags a finger at him. 

“No you don’t! You like me, remember? You said it not 2 minutes past!”

Copia huffs, turning his back on him and crossing his arms across his chest.

“I was perhaps hasty.”

“Aww, dear Cardinal,” Papa coos as he drapes himself over Copia’s back to rest his chin on Copia’s shoulder, arms encircling his middle, “don’t be fussy. I like you too.”

Then, because he’s a little shit, Papa III presses a loud smacking kiss into Copia’s ear.

That night Papa III will go to Copia’s chambers. Copia will be surprised, but pleased to see him. He’ll tell Copia he wants to bottom for him, making the man tremble with nerves and anticipation. The Cardinal will be overly solicitous with his kisses and soft caresses until III has to yell at him to get a move on. 

Papa will have already prepped himself with a plug Copia will enjoy teasing out of him. Copia is a reverent, gentle top—no shocker there—and he will fuck Papa firmly and slowly, taking special care that his dick is not neglected. Also not surprising is that Papa III is a pretty bossy bottom—he’ll direct Copia on when to speed up or slow down, until he’ll take matters into his own hands by manhandling Copia onto his back so he can ride his cock. Copia will cum first—Papa is good with his muscles—but III will follow soon after, thrilled as always at the way his lover twitches and thrashes in the throes of orgasm.

Afterward Papa III will ask if he can stay the night—they don’t spend the night together often, but when they do The Cardinal always spends it in Papa’s sumptuous bed chambers—and Copia will reply that he is always welcome.

Papa will joke that it’s only because no one will be able to find him and he can sleep in, but when the Ghouls see that III is not in his bed chambers, the next place they look is in The Cardinal’s.

Bonus: Post-Coitus That First Time

“Papa, what are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious? I am cuddling.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Is it not customary to cuddle after a good fuck?”

“Stop calling it cuddling!”

“Why? What would you have me call it? A good snuggle, then?”

“Ai, that is worse.”

“… is it because I am the big spoon?”

“It is not—whatever! Why are you doing it?”

“I meant it, Cardinal. This unholy parish is mine. I take care of all my black sheep. Especially when they are good rats.”

*nose boop*

“You are mine now. Stop being so grumpy. Enjoy the serotonin.”

[skvaderarts]

How is V compelling when all he has is Vergil's backstory and mannerisms? He's just vergil and acts like him, even the manga clearly shows him. It's not capcoms fault you projected onto that character before realizing who he obviously was. it's really rude when you people try to seperate them because vergil fans have been waiting for him and his story for such a long time. maybe dont start playing the games at 5th entry and u wont get disappointed ms. fake fan

I feel like I need to clarify something for people like this anon.

I've been playing DMC since I was 10. I am almost 22. That's over half my life. This series has helped me through the darkest parts of my life, and I have spent years invested in it. I have an account on FF.N that's probably older than the person who left me this ask. Hell, I own six of the books and half of them I had to get translations for because I can't read them. I even do a satyrical historical retrospective skit in this blog. So no, I most certainly didn't start on the 5th entry. Anyone who's following me could probably figure that out pretty easy.

Ironically, I got the notification for this stupid message while I having an Asthma attack. Lovely timing. Irritation just makes it worse. As for what I care to say about V and why I find him compelling? Simple. Because it doesn't matter what his role is in the narrative. He's intriguing and while he and Vergil of corse share similarities, they don't act the same at all. They have several key differences and are about as much alike as they are different.

He would have been interesting even if Vergil wasn't in the game at all.

Since when did writing an instantly captivating character become a bad thing? That's the effect characters are supposed to have on an audiance. Your supposed to become attached to them. It's called writing a good story. I just don't get people.

I feel like I also need to point out that if you don't like someone's content or blog, no one is asking you to step in the door, hurl anonymous insults like a child, and run back to your corner. Block me, because you can guarantee I'm blocking you. Not because we have different opinions, but because I will be dammed if I sit here and take insults from some rando hiding behind the anon filter over anything. Period. I'm done doing that. I still have people saying sorry and checking in on me from the last round of idiots that wanted to attack me over something stupid on this hellsite.

So to anyone who has an issue with this being a DMC AU blog or is thinking of adding to all the hate mail people love to send me, I eagerly encourage you to gtfo and not come to my page. I don't come to your house and complain about the furnishings. If you have nothing useful to add, then don't contribute.

And stop gatkeeping fandoms. "Fake fans" are not a real thing. If you love something, you love it. Period.

[kayteewritessteve]

Love and War - 2/16

Description: In a harsh medieval world, you set out on a perilous quest that will lead you onto a forbidden land. A land ruled and controlled by a ruthless Warlord King, one who does not look favourably upon trespassers of any kind, and punishes all with an iron fist. You may not know exactly where this quest will end, but what you do know is you will forever be altered by it. And that knowledge alone is what truly terrifies you the most.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 3,580 ish.

Pairing: Medieval!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG for now. May become 18+ later.

Warnings: Violence. Curse words. Mentions of fears and potentially brutal medieval tactics. Most likely more to come down the road. Please don’t let these warnings scare you too much, give the story a try before you judge it.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

“Well, well, well,” the larger of the two starts, “and what do we have here?”

You want to scream, you want to run, but you know both urges are pointless in this moment. You can’t outrun these guards, this is their homeland, and you can only assume they are chosen for the Royal Guard based on their knowledge of the land and their skill sets. And then they are most likely meticulously trained to endure more than the average human. Probably trained to outrun, out strength, and outsmart their opponents, every single time.

So no, running away screaming won’t save you now. You’d be smarter to just listen to their commands and pray they show you mercy. Pray they take your submission and obedience as a form of respect and then maybe, just maybe, they won’t kill you. Maybe they will let you free with a promise to never return. To never enter the King’s land again.

But you’re not an idiot, you know that anyone who has ever entered the King’s land has never returned to tell the tale. And even if your mind is trying desperately to tell you that those lost townsfolk are still alive and just living out their days happily in the King’s city. You know that’s not possible, or true. They are all dead. Just as you will be soon.

“Well, what do you wenches have to say for yourselves?” The smaller guard, with long black hair, snaps.

“We—ah—we’re just—“ you try to form a coherent sentence but your mind is just not cooperating at all. Your heart is pounding in your ears so loudly that you can barely even hear your own voice over it.

“Just what?” The larger guard, with long blonde hair, prompts gently, though he still manages to sound rather irritated.

Wanda raises her hands in an attempt to calm them, “we were just trying to find our way home, we didn’t mean to bother you.”

Thank Gods she is here, you’d have never been able to get that sentence out on your own, let alone even come up with a lie that quickly.

“A likely story,” the smaller guard scoffs, “you are 5 leagues into the King’s land, and you want us to believe you were just lost on your way home?”

“It’s the truth,” Wanda snaps, you can tell she is getting ready to do something stupid, and you pray it doesn’t result in you both being killed on the spot. You quickly grab hold of her hand to help ground her, and she snaps her eyes over to yours for a moment. The physical connection visibly calms her and you plead with your eyes for her to control herself.

After a second she nods her understanding and you turn to the guards, taking a deep breath in, and pulling yourself together you finally find your voice. “We apologize for the intrusion, we are both not very good with wayfinding, as you can tell. If either of you could just point us in the direction of Triskelion we will happily vacate the King’s land immediately.”

The smiles that appear on both guards faces do not help your nerves at all, they make them worse actually. “Unfortunately, that will not be possible as you have trespassed, and the King doesn’t take too kindly to that. You will both have to come with us,” the larger guard says as they both move towards you, menacingly.

“Now just you wait one moment,” Wanda says as you both step back, attempting to keep some distance between yourselves and the intimidatingly large Royal Guardsman. “We didn’t mean to trespass, we are just silly women who can’t tell our North from our South. Surely that isn’t grounds to detain us.”

“It is when you trespass on Royal land,” the smaller guard says as he glances at the larger one, sharing an odd look with him for a moment before they turn back to you both. “You’ll need to come with us, don’t make this any more difficult than it need be.”

You sigh and then hold out your wrists to the guards, there is no point in fighting this, you’ll just end up in deeper water. Wanda glares at you for a moment, but you just glare right back, begging her to stop causing a scene as that will surely only result in you both getting beat for it. She shakes her head defeatedly, then sighs and sticks her hands out as well.

“Good decision ladies,” the larger guard says, patronizingly, as he moves towards you, pulling shackles from his belt as he does. “No need to make things any worse by doing something foolhardy.”

Both guards shackle your wrists, and attach you both to a length of rope, as the larger one then proceeds to basically drag you deeper into the Kings territory. You reluctantly follow, as you aren’t really given much choice in the matter.

But as you continue to journey forward, the guards become further and further ahead. Allowing about 5 yards of space between them and you, basically just enough that you can’t really make out their whispered words. Nor could they potentially make out yours, you note.

You obediently follow behind, stumbling over rocks and fallen trees as they continue to drag you along. Praying they are bringing you to a path or trail of some sort, so your aching legs don’t get anymore beat up by the rigorous pace they have set. But before your pleads can be answered you are forcefully yanked over a rather large tree trunk. Falling to the ground with a yelp, ending up in a heap on the other side, and sadly taking Wanda down with you.

Pain instantly radiates through your left leg, and you grip it, writhing on the ground as you yell out, “Gods dammit!”

Wanda quickly collects herself and attempts to check your leg, but you push her hands away for fear she will only agitate the injury more. “Y/N, let me see it,” she says as she tries again to reach for your leg.

In the background to can hear the guards chuckling to themselves, clearly enjoying your hardship. “Get up foolish little woman, we have a long journey left ahead,” the larger guard says through his chuckles.

“Give us a moment, we aren’t all built for this terrain,” Wanda snaps at him, receiving more snide laughter from the boorish guards. She looks back down at you, her voice softening “are you alright, Y/N?”

You grimace and clench your teeth, but nod as you release your leg and Wanda helps you stand, “will you be able to walk on it?”

You hesitantly place your weight on the leg, and though it does hurt, you know you will be able to handle the pain. You look to her and nod again, “yes, it seems to just be bruised.”

“Here, let me check it,” she says, but you shake your head like a petulant child. She sighs deeply, “Y/N, let me see, I promise I won’t touch it.”

You finally give in and nod, “okay, fine.”

She smiles triumphantly then turns you so your back is facing the guards, kneeling down in front of you and lifting your skirts just slightly, just enough that she can look at the injured leg. “You have a nasty scrape, but that’s all. It could have been much worse,” she says as she stands back up.

“Today, wenches,” the smaller guard yells, their chuckles can no longer be heard, so clearly they are becoming fed up and frustrated with how long you both are taking.

“We’re coming,” you snap this time, becoming increasingly frustrated with them as well. You both start to walk towards the guards as they turn and continue onwards.

After a while of walking—limping in your case—you glance over at Wanda. “How are we going to get out of this?” You whisper to her, making sure to keep your voice low so only she hears you.

“I’ll figure something out,” she whispers back, “we just need to play along for now, and wait for an opportunity to arise.”

“What if they lock us away in their dungeons?”

“Then I’ll break us out,” she whispers confidently.

You furrow your brows, and mumble, “we are both going to die.”

She giggles quietly, “you are such a zoilist.”

You gasp, in feigned outrage and shock at her calling you a zoilist; an overly-critical and judgemental nitpicker. “I am not!” But you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up at her ridiculous insult. “You are the zoilist!”

You both laugh even harder but then the rope is yanked forward roughly once again, “keep it down back there!”

You glare at the back of the guards heads, wishing you could decapitate them both using just your eyes. But sadly, just as everything else, you weren’t gifted with that skill either. Though... “can’t you just kill them both?” You mumble to Wanda.

“I wish,” she sighs, “but I’m not that strong, nor that fast. If I tried to take one of them out, the other would be on me before I could finish the job. You know my magic is more natural than that. I can grow plants instantly, fix injured animals, but the dark magic that is needed to take a man's life,” she shakes her head, “that I am not versed in.”

You sigh, you did know that. But wishful thinking got the better of you. “You’re right. It wouldn’t be worth the risks.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll figure something out. We just have to be smart about it,” she whispers and you nod. Then you both fall into a silence as you follow along, finally coming out of the dense wood and on to a wide path. Clearly one that is heavily used, judging by all the prints and marks in the gravel.

You thank the Gods for it though, as now you can walk a little easier and your leg is no longer being agitated by the uneven and fallen tree littered, forest floor.

A while later, as the sun is just starting to set in the horizon, you look up to see the top of a massive castle up ahead, just over the trees. And your stomach drops with every step closer to the intimidating structure, or more so, your Fate that will be decided within it.

As you slowly make your way closer you feel your throat dry up, and your heart begins to pound rapidly in your chest. Your hands become clammy and your face flushes. These are all reactions you aren’t used to. Yes, you’ve been nervous before, and yes, you’ve had each of these reactions before. But never together. Never all at the same time.

And even though you are terrified of the castle, petrified by what will happen to you inside it. Something in you, something deep, deep down wants you to continue on. Wants you to enter that fortress, and fast. You can’t explain it. You just feel like you were destined to be here, Fated to find this place. To enter it.

Maybe your subconscious knows this is where you die. Where you take your final breath. Yet, that doesn’t seem right. Something in you is trying to tell you that you won’t be dying here today, or any day. No, something very different is going to occur here, in this place. But you just aren’t yet sure exactly what that will be.

The guards pull you away from the entrance to the city, leading you off to the right along the outlying wall. The wall acting as a final line of defence for the buildings, structures and inhabitants of the King’s city. A wall you’d have assumed would’ve been taller, but then again, everyone knew not to enter the King’s land. Everyone except you, clearly.

The wall was short enough that you could see the roofs of the buildings that lay within, and if you squint really hard, you could just see that at the very back of the city, the side furthest from where you currently are, is the castle. Large and imposing as it loomed menacingly, yet protectively over the city. Giving the impression that so long as the castle stood, the city would as well.

Your nerves had dissipated now, being replaced by shear awe, mainly for the fact that you got to lay eyes on this place. You got to see the Warlord King’s home up close, a thing no one outside of his people got to do. Yet here you were, walking around the outside of it. You hoped that you’d get the chance to see inside the walls. Get a chance to explore the city. But you knew that would never happen, you’d just be lucky to make it to tomorrow in one piece.

The guards halted in front of a large set of iron doors, set into the wall. Two guards standing on either side, with swords on their hips and spears in their hands. You glanced over at Wanda, who looked both exhausted and forlorn. She didn’t look at you though, she was too busy watching the guards interact. You shifted your eyes back to them and noticed that not one had spoken so much as a single word. They were all just staring at each other, as if having a non-verbal conversation. Which was odd, for sure.

“Why aren’t they saying anything?” You whisper to her.

She shakes her head, “I don’t know.”

Then, the two guards who had been at the doors when you’d arrived, moved and pushed them open, the large iron doors creaking as they did. Once they were fully open the two guards who had brought you here begin to walk, once again pulling you along with them.

You are dragged down a long, dark and musky stone tunnel. One that clearly isn’t used to welcome castle guests. Not that you assume the King ever has any guests to begin with, what with his sheer hatred for anyone not born in his territory. And even then, you aren’t sure if he even likes the people who are born here.

You continue down the dark, damp tunnel, every 10 feet a torch is attached to the wall, giving just enough light to vaguely see where you’re going. But not enough to be able to make out much else.

After a while you reach a large wood door, with a metal plate in the middle near the top. The larger guard knocks 3 times and a moment later the metal plate falls in, away from you and a set of eyes appears in its place. But once again, not a single word is exchanged. Though you see the head, attached to the mysterious eyes nod, and then the metal plate is flipped back into place, right before the sound of locks echoes off the tunnel walls. And then the door slowly squeaks open, revealing another ridiculously large man behind it. He is smaller than the Guardsmen who brought you here, but still much larger than yourself.

The guards drag you both through the door, and before you know it you are unshackled and then tossed into a cell. And seconds later the cell door is slammed shut, leaving both Wanda and yourself unshackled but locked in a small dark windowless room—if you can even call it that, it’s more like a cellar.

You glance around, your eyes having adjusted to the low lighting during your walk in the tunnel. But even with that said, it is so very dark in here. Your eyes can just barely make out a pile of hay, off in a corner, most likely a makeshift bed, and then there is a bucket in the opposite corner. However, you don’t need to question what the bucket is for, just the smell coming off of it is enough to answer that for you.

You hear the tunnel door slam shut and then you know it’s just Wanda, you and the giant door guard left in here. Well, that and whoever else is currently locked in the cells near you.

Wanda quickly makes her way to the cell door, checking the edges for any faults or weak points. But after a moment of that you hear her heavily sigh and can just barely make out her head slumping forward in defeat. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to break us out of here,” she whispers dejectedly.

You make your way over to her, placing your hand on her shoulder, “don’t say that Wands, if anyone can get us out, it’s you. Have some faith in yourself.”

“You don’t get it,” she shrugs your hand off and turns to face you, not that either of you can make out the others features in the darkness. “I can get us out of this cell, but I won’t be able to take on that guard.”

“Then you work on getting us out of the cell and leave the guard to me,” you say resolutely.

She giggles, “and what are you planning to do, exactly?”

“I haven’t figured that out just yet,” you laugh, “but I’ll think of something.”

She shakes her head, and you can just barely make out the smirk on her lips, “we are so going to die.”

“Now who’s the zoilist?” you chuckle out, earning a scoff in return.

“I just don’t see how you plan to take on that ridiculously large man, let alone best him while you’re at it.”

“O ye of little faith,” you pat her back, “trust me Wands, we are getting out of here. Mark my words.”

“Wanda?” You hear someone yell from the cell beside yours, “Y/N?”

And instantly you know that voice. “Pietro?!” You and Wanda yell at the same time. “Is it really you?!” Wanda begs hopefully.

“What are you two doing here!?”

“We came to find you,” you say back.

“You shouldn’t have done that! What were you both thinking!?” He scolds from his cell.

“And you shouldn’t have entered the King’s land in the first place, Piet,” Wanda scolds right back. She never put up with any of his shit. Ever.

“Gods Wanda, I told you not to come after me if I didn’t return, now we are all going to die here.”

“Hey!” A new voice yells, clearly the guard, “no talking!”

You both huddle into the corner closest to Pietro’s voice, trying to not draw any more unwanted attention to yourselves, as you talk to him.

“Piet, we are going to break out of here,” Wanda starts, “do you think you’d be able to take on the guard?”

“Have you seen the guy!?” Piet scoffs, “he is like 3 of me! I don’t know what they put in the water here, but every person I have seen is insanely large.”

“You saw inside the city?” You quickly ask, curious if he got a glimpse of it or not.

“I did, but I didn’t make it far before they captured me. I sort of stood out like a sore thumb, what with everyone having at least 2 feet on me.”

“Really? They are all that large?” You question.

“Yeah, unhumanly large.”

“That will make escaping much more difficult,” Wanda sighs, “considering we clearly won’t be able to just blend in once we get out of here.”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Piet agrees, “and even if we get passed this guard, there are two others by the iron doors.”

“Gods! I forgot about them!” Wanda shakes her head again, “I don’t think we’ll be able to pull this off.”

“We have to at least try, we don’t have any other choice,” you start then realize something. “Piet, when is your sentencing?”

“At dawn.”

“That doesn’t exactly give us much time to plan,” Wanda murmurs, clearly losing hope.

“No, but I may have an idea,” you say as you lean in towards her, “okay, here’s what I’m thinking.”

Somewhere near, yet far.

“Have you found her yet?” the large man asks from his spot, hiding amongst the shadows of a deep, dark cave.

“No Sir,” a smaller man replies, “but we are still looking.”

“Of course you are still looking!” The larger man bellows, “because I told you not to stop until you found her, didn’t I?”

“You did, Sir,” the smaller man nods quickly.

“Well, then why are you here talking to me right now, instead of out there searching?”

“I only came to inform you that we have found a lead, Sir. She has been spotted in the town of Triskelion.”

“That’s wonderful news,” the larger man nods. “Now stop wasting my time and go find her. She belongs to me, and I won’t have anyone else taking her away from me again.”

“Of course, Sir,” the smaller man nods again, “right away, Sir.” He goes to quickly leave the cave, but just before he does the larger one halts him.

“Oh, and Charan—“ the larger man pauses to clear his throat, “Brock?”

He turns around, “yes, Sir?”

“You remember the price for failing me, yes?”

Brock nods quickly, “I do.”

“You do, what?” He growls.

Brock clears his throat, “I do, Sir.”

“Good. Now be gone before I take my anger out on you,” he threatens coolly as he waves a dismissive hand around.

Brock nods once more then hastily retreats out of the cave. Leaving the larger man alone once again, standing in the darkness, with only his thoughts of her, and his desperate need to have her within his grasp once more. She is his, and she always will be.

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

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[thelastranger]

Au where Ferris kills Halt, Caitlyn becomes a ranger, and Sean can see ghosts

This is my take on it, but @rangerpippin had a SPECTACULAR take on the idea in the discord so check that out if you haven't already

(It sounds angsty but it is wholesome, I promise)

Au where Ferris manages to kill Halt in the river, but Halt comes back as a ghost and haunts Ferris. Ferris is the only one who can see and hear Halt (that they know of). Halt can't interact with the world but he can talk and float around. He really wishes he could move things, but he'll work with what he's got.

In this universe, Caitlyn fears for her life and flees to Araluen with the help of her boyfriend, Michael. She and Michael meet Crowley and the three of them hit it off instantly. Caitlyn and Pauline become best friends. Caitlyn at first feels bittersweet about being friends with Crowley because he's exactly the type of person who Halt would get along famously with.

Ferris never tried to kill Caitlyn but she felt threatened by him and she couldn't stand to be in the palace with him.

While Caitlyn didn't do as much training as her brothers in the royal court yard, she was expertly trained in archery and had more freedom to sneak around in the woods. Ferris and Halt were trained in swordplay.

As she and Michael are fleeing, they meet Pritchard who helps them across the ocean and teaches Caitlyn everything she needs to know. Michael watches in awe and practices his sword fighting. He hopes that someone will hire him as a knight in Araluen. What he doesn't know is that he will become one of the most respected knights in Araluen and help teach the next generation of knights, including a young ward from Redmont.

Ferris killed Halt before he could start training with Pritchard. A month and a half later, Caitlyn leaves. Ferris doesn't send out large search parties to find her but Halt searches tirelessly, trying to find Caitlyn or even a hint of where she went. This is hindered by the fact he can't really go to many places.

Ghost powers develop slowly and they gain more powers over time. So Halt is initially only able to be around Ferris, but as the years go by he can move throughout the castle, Dun Kilty, Clonmel, and Hibernia. It’s only after a decade that Halt tries to cross the ocean to Araluen.

Halt doesn't appear as a ghost immediately. He spends a few days in the dark and sees some visions, the best including a red headed man laughing with a stunning blonde woman, his friend Michael with the red haired man and someone who looked like... Caitlyn shooting arrows against horrible bear monsters. He’s not sure what to make of these scenes. More importantly, Halt meets a kindly old man before Halt realizes he's a ghost. Halt thinks that he is still alive. They chat and Halt is comforted. As they part, the man expresses his regret that he never got to teach Halt. At this moment Halt realizes that he didn't ask the man his name and the man smiles in a bittersweet way and says "Pritchard." Pritchard isn't a ghost but he's always been able to seem certain ghosts and sort of guide them. Halt realizes that he is a ghost and decides to haunt Ferris.

Ghost Halt generally bugs Ferris and drags him all while commenting on his murderous tendencies and how he doesn't have anyone to support him in the family. Ferris gets so upset during meetings but sometimes Halt genuinely has good ideas so Ferris starts to begrudgingly listen to Halt occasionally. Halt also tries to pull a bunch of prank but it stinks that he can't move anything.

Halt finds it darkly funny that Ferris killed him to become king but Halt is still making decisions.

Eventually the brothers get fed up with each other and they have a screaming match that dissolves into an actual conversation. This is the first real conversation the brothers have had without copious amounts of insults. Ferris deeply regrets his actions and Halt kind of forgives him. To a certain extent though. His brother did kill him after all.

Some people low key think Ferris is crazy after this because he sometimes would be caught talking to the air. Halt finds it hilarious.

Early on in his rule, there was an attempt to get Ferris off the throne. Halt finds out about it and tells Ferris who stops it. When Ferris asks why Halt stopped it, Halt goes "You're the only person who talks to me dummy. And despite the fact that you murdered me, I don't mind it." It may be short and brusque but it's the nicest thing someone's told Ferris in a while and it marks a real turning point in the brothers relationship.

Years go by and Halt still can't interact with anyone besides Ferris and he's never tried to leave the general bounds of Clonmel. Caitlyn never contacts Ferris and both brothers want to know where she is because they are curious and Ferris wants to apologize to her and Michael. They have no idea they have a nephew.

Halt leaves Clonmel for the first time and drifts across the ocean much faster than he expected. Something is drawing him to Araluen. He lands in a part of Araluen, about a few days ride from Redmont, where Crowley just happens to be visiting. Halt recognizes Crowley as the red headed man from his visions. He also feels a connection to the man. He follows Crowley and eventually ends up finding Caitlyn and her family. Caitlyn and Michael can't see him but it seems like Caitlyn's son, Sean, can. Halt is shocked to find out that he has a nephew and saddened that he will never get to meet him. But Sean can see him.

Ghost Halt visits when Sean is 8 and Sean sees a man who kind of looks like his mother in the cabin and he figures that the man is there for the fabled ranger Caitlyn. Caitlyn isn't home right now and Michael is in the house and the man seems kind of overwhelmed with emotion. The strange man doesn't wait for Sean's mama but instead tells Sean to tell his mom to visit her brother in Clonmel. There were things that needed to be said. Halt sees Caitlyn coming back to the house, laughing with Gilan, and knows he has to leave before Sean asks why he isn’t talking to his mother. Halt bids Sean goodbye and floats away when he isn’t looking. Watching from a tree, Halt sees his sister and misses her deeply.

Sean tells Caitlyn this and she is shocked. She hasn't told anyone that she had a brother. Michael knows and that's it. Sean didn't even know he had an uncle. She's suspicious and even more so when Sean says the man kind of looked like her. Caitlyn thinks Ferris is tracking her down and she has no intention of talking to him ever again. She warns Sean not to talk to strangers and tries to put the incident behind her.

Ferris and Halt are disappointed when Caitlyn doesn't come to Clonmel and so a year or two later, Halt goes back to visit.

Sean is feeling conflicted about the new apprentice because Will is cool but he also spends a lot of time with their family and Sean isn't sure if he likes that or not. Halt talks to him about it and Sean feels better.

Ferris and Halt really want Caitlyn to visit them and to bring Sean so Ferris tries to subtly get Araluen to send a ranger or a knight with diplomatic ties to Clonmel. He hopes that Caitlyn wouldn't disobey a royal order. He greatly misjudged Caitlyn's character.

It's the first, but not the last, time Caitlyn has a shouting match with King Duncan. He knows she is from Hibernia but she refuses to go back. In the end, after much fighting and compromises, Michael ends up going back. Caitlyn has a lot of conditions like he has to grow a beard and dye his hair and play up his Araluen accent. He honestly looks ridiculous. She's pretty sure that Ferris wouldn't remember her boyfriend from over a decade ago. And normally, she would be right. But thanks to Halt, Ferris knows who Michael is.

Ferris really wants to befriend Michael enough to get him to bring Sean and Caitlyn over or possibly slip Michael a note to take to Caitlyn, but Halt cautions against it.

Ferris gives Michael a note anyway and Caitlyn finds it. She sees that it's from Ferris and she is about to burn it when she sees a phrase that Halt only said to her. Ferris had no idea what it was. This gives her pause but not enough that she doesn't burn the note.

Ferris and Halt keep trying for several more years. Halt at this point has slightly grown into his ghostly powers or whatever they really are and can move certain objects like an inch at a time. Halt also keeps visiting Sean who has grown into a fine young man who is very interested in the diplomatic arts much to the chagrin of his mother and father. They support him anyway. Plus, he has his father's last name so there's that added protection. He seems like any other Araluen citizens except for there's a twinge of Hibernian in his words.

All four of them ride into Dun Kilty and Sean presents his diplomatic papers and Caitlyn is emanating anger. They go to the throne room and find it devoid of people except for King Ferris. He looks at them and smiles... until Caitlyn comes up and give him a punch to the face. She's tired of hiding and all the constant attempts at futile contact. She wants peace and for Ferris to stop being such an idiot. She honestly hadn't expected him to last so long in power.

Ferris accepts the punch, a bit confused because he assumed that Caitlyn was ready to talk. She really isn't and he starts babbling about how he was so sorry and how he has changed and how Halt had forgiven him until he realizes that there are other people in the room and that Caitlyn is so confused.

Ferris clears his throat and asks if they could clear the room. Caitlyn refuses and says something like so you can kill me without any witnesses? Ferris winces but he kinda deserved that one. "Whatever you have to say can be said to these men as well. By the way, Sean is your nephew you scumbag." Caitlyn figured that Ferris would be a little more shocked but he seems to take it in stride.

Sean, by the way, is freaking out because the mysterious man who visited frequently over the years who called himself Arratay is right there on the throne (Halt isn't in the room yet) but King Ferris, who is apparently his uncle, could not have been the man.

Ferris starts to tell everyone about how Halt is a ghost and Caitlyn scoffs and tries to leave until the door to the throne room opens an inch and Sean sees his old friend walk in, looking exactly like King Ferris. The door scares everyone, but Caitlyn is not convinced. She thinks it's a trick.

Ferris explains the best he can and Sean to the surprise of everyone also jumps in with an explanation. Caitlyn is still skeptical until Halt pushes a piece of paper to Sean and tells him to write down what he says. Halt tells Caitlyn everything that happened and tells her the last words they ever spoke to each other, something Sean would never know.

Caitlyn bursts into tears and scans the room. She swears she can feel Halt when he goes to hug her. Ferris apologizes for killing Halt and forcing her away and she forgives him (but fully reserves the right to roast him mercilessly)

Will and Horace are flabbergasted that there was so much drama with the O'Carrick family and the fact that Sean and apparently Ferris can see ghosts.

Ferris can really only see Halt and for that he is grateful. He doesn't think he could deal with more than one ghost haunting him and roasting him over his fashion choices. That's one of the few things he and Halt don't agree on. Sean, on the other hand, is different. Sean can see Halt clearly and can sometimes see other ghosts fairly clearly but he doesn't know that they are ghosts and often they don't either.

Caitlyn does fall sick with turberculosis several years before meeting up with Ferris for the first time in decades and it almost kills her. Luckily, thanks to the work of Malcolm and several other healers, she was able to pull through. Michael is still hyper concerned whenever she gets so as much as a cold.

Caitlyn in this universe is fiercely protective of herself and her family. She would like to leave almost every part of her past behind except for when she tells Sean about the beauty of Hibernia and his smile lights up his face. Unlike Halt, Caitlyn never snuck into Clonmel to check up on things. She wants to put everything about Hibernia (except for Halt) in a tiny portion of her brain where she never has to think about Ferris again. Caitlyn is very blunt and tells things like it is. She suffers no fools and has a bit of a temper. Almost too competent.

Michael is the milder of the pair. Which, compared to Caitlyn, is not saying much. Despite this, Michael is normally a very mild mannered man who is down for an adventure at any time just as much as he is willing to stay home and rest. Close friends with Sir Rodney and Baron Arald, Michael is first a very willing student at Battleschool and then an enthusiastic teacher. Super devoted to Caitlyn. He is surprisingly petty, but will deny it to his last breath. If Ferris gets a lot of mail that just so happens to insult him in lots of different languages, well, Michael has no idea about that. (His apprentices at battle school are more than willing to write down the worst insults they know in all their languages for their kind instructor)

For the first year or so, Ferris is a horrible king and person. He starts to feel very guilty for killing Halt and for driving Caitlyn away. Halt’s constant comments on these topics help drive these feelings and Ferris changes. He isn’t well loved but people agree that there have been worse kings than him and he does a fair job all things considered. By the time Caitlyn comes back to Clonmel, it’s been twenty five years and he’s been trying to get in touch with her for seventeen years. Ferris just wants reconciliation with his sister and to give Halt some closure. Ferris steadily ignored Halt for the first month since Halt hadn’t gotten a hold of talking yet and Ferris did not tell Caitlyn about how he was seeing Halt’s ghost constantly.

Halt is still the sarcastic, witty, and grumpy man we all know and love. He’s just not a ranger and is a ghost. Halt sticks around Ferris to both roast him constantly (this is a recurring theme) and to guide him because honestly, Ferris needed some guidance. Really wants Caitlyn to come back so he can actually talk to her and for Ferris to get over everything. He wishes that he could live his own life but he makes do with what he has. Pesters Ferris to go into the woods more during the first few years so he can be in nature more.

Sean: Caitlyn and Michael’s son, five years younger than Will. Sean was raised by both a ranger and a knight so while he has a very strict moral code and a strong sense of ethics, he’s willing to break just about any rule or code in order to do good. One of the reasons he became a diplomat (and studied intensively with the couriers) was he wanted to feel more connected to Hibernia where both of his parents are from, but rarely talk about. Preferring to talk things out, Sean can still pack a punch and swing a sword. He's the future king of Clonmel. Feels a connection to Halt even though he doesn't know who he really is. Full time diplomat, part time ghost whisperer.

Caitlyn trains Will and Gilan. The pair lived with the O'Carrick-Reid family. Sean takes the last name Reid and his middle name is O’Carrick. Caitlyn will occasionally give Alyss tips on diplomacy and Alyss is always curious about how the Hibernian ranger knows so much about diplomacy concerning royalty.

Pauline definitely knows about the O’Carrick secret.

(I thought it was only fair that Caitlyn got to be a ranger too in an au)