#Python hands-on training

[mohalicareerpoint12]

Best Python Training Institutes in Mohali

Python is one of the most versatile and in-demand programming languages today. Its simplicity and powerful libraries make it a favorite among developers, data scientists, and AI enthusiasts. If you are in Mohali and looking to master Python, choosing the right training institute is crucial. This article highlights the best Python training institutes in Mohali, detailing what makes them top choices.

Why Learn Python?

Versatility: Python is used in web development, data science, artificial intelligence, machine learning, automation, and more.

High Demand: Python developers are in high demand across various industries, leading to numerous job opportunities.

Community Support: Python has a large, active community, providing extensive resources, libraries, and frameworks to support developers.

Career Advancement: Proficiency in Python can lead to advanced career opportunities and higher salary potential.

Criteria for Selecting the Best Python Training Institute

When choosing a Python training institute, consider the following factors:

Comprehensive Curriculum: A detailed curriculum covering all aspects of Python programming.

Experienced Trainers: Trainers with real-world industry experience.

Hands-on Training: Emphasis on practical, project-based learning.

Placement Assistance: Support for job placement post-training.

Positive Reviews and Reputation: Positive feedback from former students and a strong industry reputation.

Top Python Training Institutes in Mohali

1. ThinkNEXT Technologies

Overview: ThinkNEXT Technologies is a well-known IT training institute in Mohali, offering comprehensive Python courses. The institute is recognized for its industry-oriented curriculum and experienced trainers.

Key Features:

Comprehensive Curriculum: Covers basic to advanced Python topics, including data structures, web development with Django, data analysis, and machine learning.

Experienced Trainers: Trainers with extensive industry experience.

Hands-on Training: Emphasis on practical projects and real-world case studies.

Placement Assistance: Strong placement support with tie-ups with various companies.

Positive Reviews: High ratings and positive testimonials from former students.

Curriculum Highlights:

Introduction to Python

Python Data Types and Structures

Control Flow and Functions

Modules and Packages

File Handling

Exception Handling

Web Development with Django/Flask

Data Science Libraries (NumPy, Pandas, Matplotlib)

Machine Learning with Python (Scikit-Learn)

Real-world Projects

2. CBitss Technologies

Overview: CBitss Technologies is another reputable institute in Mohali, known for its quality Python training. The institute focuses on providing practical knowledge and industry-relevant skills.

Key Features:

Industry-Relevant Curriculum: Detailed coverage of Python programming with a focus on practical applications.

Experienced Trainers: Instructors with real-world experience in Python development.

Hands-on Projects: Real-world projects and case studies to enhance learning.

Placement Support: Assistance with job placements and interview preparation.

Positive Feedback: Strong reviews and testimonials from students.

Curriculum Highlights:

Python Basics and Syntax

Functions and Modules

File I/O Operations

Object-Oriented Programming (OOP) in Python

Web Development with Django

Data Analysis with Pandas

Visualization with Matplotlib and Seaborn

Introduction to Machine Learning

Final Project

3. Webtech Learning

Overview: Webtech Learning is a leading IT training institute in Mohali, offering a variety of programming courses, including Python. The institute is known for its practical approach to teaching and experienced faculty.

Key Features:

Comprehensive Syllabus: Covers all essential and advanced Python topics.

Expert Trainers: Trainers with extensive industry and teaching experience.

Practical Training: Focus on hands-on learning with projects and assignments.

Job Placement Assistance: Support for job placements and career guidance.

Student Reviews: High satisfaction ratings from past students.

Curriculum Highlights:

Python Installation and Setup

Basic Syntax and Variables

Data Types and Operators

Control Flow Statements

Functions and Lambda Expressions

Modules and Packages

File Handling and Exceptions

Web Development with Flask/Django

Data Science with Python

Machine Learning Basics

Capstone Project

Conclusion

Choosing the right Python training institute can significantly impact your learning experience and career prospects. ThinkNEXT Technologies, CBitss Technologies, and Webtech Learning are among the top institutes in Mohali, offering comprehensive curricula, experienced trainers, hands-on training, and excellent placement support. Whether you are a beginner or looking to advance your Python skills, these institutes provide the ideal environment to master Python and achieve your career goals.

[syntaxlevelup1]

Why Full Stack Training in Pune at SyntaxLevelUp is the Key to Your Success

Are you ready to dive into the world of technology and unlock endless career opportunities? If so, enrolling in a Full Stack Developer Course in Pune could be your ticket to a promising future in web development. Pune, often hailed as the IT hub of India, offers a wealth of opportunities for aspiring developers. In this blog, we’ll explore why pursuing full stack training in Pune is a smart choice and how SyntaxLevelUp is shaping up to be the go-to destination for such training.

Why Choose Full Stack Development?

The demand for full stack developers is at an all-time high. These professionals possess a unique skill set that spans both front-end and back-end development. This makes them invaluable to companies looking to build dynamic and responsive websites or applications. Mastering full stack development means you’ll have the ability to manage entire web development projects, from user interface design to database management.

Here are some of the key reasons why enrolling in a full stack course in Pune can be a game-changer for your career:

Comprehensive Skill SetFull stack developers are like the Swiss Army knives of the tech world. By mastering both front-end technologies like HTML, CSS, and JavaScript, and back-end languages such as Python, Java, or Node.js, you'll be able to handle every aspect of web development.

High Demand in the Job MarketCompanies are constantly on the lookout for versatile developers who can handle both client and server-side programming. With full stack expertise, you can expect lucrative job offers from leading tech companies and startups in Pune and beyond.

Career Growth and OpportunitiesPune is one of India’s leading IT hubs, hosting top-tier companies like Infosys, Wipro, and TCS. This creates a high demand for skilled full stack developers. Completing a full stack training in Pune can open doors to career opportunities at some of the most innovative firms in the region.

Why Pune is Ideal for Full Stack Training

Pune is not just a city of IT companies; it’s also home to a growing community of tech enthusiasts, startups, and world-class educational institutions. Whether you’re a beginner or an experienced professional, Pune provides an ideal ecosystem for full stack development courses.

Strategic Location: Pune is close to Mumbai and has a strong connection with the IT industry, providing excellent job placement opportunities for students.

Thriving Tech Culture: Pune's tech-savvy environment encourages continuous learning and development, making it a prime location for tech-related courses.

SyntaxLevelUp: The Best Full Stack Developer Course in Pune

When it comes to choosing a training provider for full stack development, SyntaxLevelUp stands out for several reasons:

Industry-Focused CurriculumSyntaxLevelUp offers a comprehensive full stack developer course in Pune that’s designed to meet the needs of the modern tech industry. Their curriculum covers everything from front-end development (HTML, CSS, JavaScript) to back-end frameworks (Node.js, Express) and database management (MongoDB, SQL).

Hands-On ProjectsOne of the biggest advantages of enrolling in a full stack course in Pune with SyntaxLevelUp is their project-based learning approach. You’ll get the chance to work on real-world projects that mimic the challenges you’ll face in the industry.

Experienced InstructorsThe instructors at SyntaxLevelUp are industry professionals with years of experience. They bring real-world insights and practical knowledge to the classroom, ensuring you receive up-to-date training.

Flexible Learning OptionsWhether you're a working professional or a student, SyntaxLevelUp offers flexible learning schedules. They provide both part-time and full-time courses, making it easier for you to learn at your own pace.

Job Placement AssistanceWith strong connections to local tech companies, SyntaxLevelUp also offers job placement assistance to help students land jobs as full stack developers upon course completion.

Enroll in the Full Stack Developer Course at SyntaxLevelUp Today!

If you’re looking to start or accelerate your career in web development, enrolling in a full stack developer course in Pune with SyntaxLevelUp is a smart move. The combination of Pune’s thriving tech environment and SyntaxLevelUp's industry-focused training provides the perfect blend for learning and growth.

So, why wait? Sign up for full stack training in Pune today and take your first step towards becoming a full stack developer!

[thetruesparkstx]

The True Sparks

Chetan N Rao, the technology leader behind The True Sparks, boasts a diverse background in computer engineering, management, public speaking, and strategy. With extensive experience in the software technology industry, he leverages a unique combination of technical expertise and leadership skills to foster innovation and drive success for the The True Sparks. As a seasoned professional, he has had the privilege to be a speaker at various company events, sharing valuable insights.

Chetan is not only an innovator but also holds a patent in AI-based solutions. Furthermore, he is the author of numerous articles on management, motivation, and technology, contributing to The True Sparks thought leadership in the industry.

Chetan earned his master's degree from Illinois Institute of Technology, focusing on business strategy, technology consultation, negotiations, and organizational management. Throughout his career, he has demonstrated exceptional leadership, having built, led, and managed teams across the globe, including the USA, India, and Europe. Additionally, he holds a Bachelor's degree in Electronics and Communication Engineering from the National Institute of Technology, HP, further enriching his expertise and contributions to the The True Sparks.

Facebook 

Youtube 

Linkedin 

Twitter 

[kortac-sweetheart]

ah fuck it, thinkin abt: taking public transport with kruger and nikto (especially self indulgent bc i absolutely despise my commute)

going onto a train car hand in hand with nikto and it’s not so bad at first. it’s a little crowded but you’re not shoulder to shoulder with anybody (except nikto).. until the next station over where a whole flood of people get on and it turns into nikto essentially caging you into the train wall with his body.

the thing about nikto is that he and everything about him; from his height, to his built body, and even down to the aura he exudes. it all silently commands respect. so there’s a very, very clear distinction between nikto’s space and everyone else’s. and all other passengers aboard tries their damndest not to step into it, at all costs, even if the train is packed to capacity.

he glances down at you, mirth twinkling in his icey blue eyes. “are you ok, rodnaya?” his eyes never leaving yours, even with the intensity of the moving train and the slight sway of the floor.

a little nod from you has them crinkling in a way you’re intimately familiar with, which is when he’s happy. his heart flutters just a tiny bit, overjoyed at being able to protect you and keep you safe, even in mundane happenings like this.

his eyes then survey the train car again, making sure that no one’s too close to you. he leans his head down, murmuring into your ear, “look at them, khoroshenkaya, packed together like sardines in a tin.” he chuckles (unreasonably hot and dangerous considering the situation you’re in) and gently takes your chin in his hand.

“hm, and you.. my little prince/ss. my sweetheart. i’ll do whatever you ask, yes? anything and everything you want.” pressing a chaste kiss to your lips through his black surgeon’s mask.

by the time you and nikto snap out of your shared reverie you’ve missed your initial stop by three stations.

oops.

ah well, riding the train in the opposite direction now just gives him additional time to sweep you off your feet..even if you’re already dating.

˖◛⁺⑅♡

when the doors of the bus swing open, kruger always ushers you inside first. tapping his card twice on the reader (as if he’d ever allow you to pay for anything) and letting you to grasp his hand to lead him to your desired seat.

if space allows, he’d like for you to sit on one of those single seats, facing the aisle with him standing at your side as if he were your knight.

but if there were only those double seats available he’d assist you to sit in the window seat and him, the aisle seat. his arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his chest whenever the bus swerved a bit too hard.

and if there were no seats available?

kruger held onto the overhead grip, his leisurely stance very out of place with the wild way the bus turned this and that direction. his other arm was wrapped firmly against your waist, squeezing you tightly to his side.

“faring well haschen?” his hand rubs up and down your waist soothingly, eyes flitting to yours to see if you’re doing alright.

“yea—ah!” the bus swerves abruptly again, as if out to specifically ruin your day. kruger adapts easily, catching you before you could go flying (as if you weighed nothing), arm casually readjusting around your waist.

he sighs, exasperated from this god awful driving, coaxing you to cling onto him even more.

“hold tight, mausi.” he nuzzles his mouth into the crown of your head, a kiss through his mask. your arms wrap tightly around him, more akin to a python’s grip than an actual hug (he doesn’t mind, he never does). while bored, your eyes hone in on the way his arm tenses and flexes when he has to adjust his grip on the handle, downright ogling at him and his casual strength.

“enjoying the view, schatzi?” you can hear the smirk in his voice when his comment snaps you out of your daze.

“no.” your curt reply a little too fast, a bit petulantly as you bury your face into his chest, slightly flushed. he can only chuckle as he pats your waist comfortingly.

“ ‘s ok mein liebe. you can have more of this view at home.” he spends the remainder of the bus ride just admiring you and your cute little expressions when you catch him staring.

the rest of the ride goes well without a hitch (ie. you didn’t go flying through the bus’ front windows) even if you did get tossed around a bit.

and when the bus finally stops he wraps an arm around your shoulder, ushering you quickly out of the bus and nearly shoulder checking some poor sap on the way out.

kruger is one mean bastard and impatient to boot, and he’s not afraid to show it. ‘tsk-ing’ when someone’s walking too slowly for his liking or taking up too much room on walk ways

he WILL shoulder check someone for the above mentioned, he absolutely would. he’s more than willing to be rude to someone who’s annoying you (or heaven forbid, being MEAN to you, god help them) and in turn, him as well.

if someone’s standing too close or cuts you off when walking he’ll bark out an authoritative “watch it.” or “move.” it always sends people packing. and if it doesn’t? that nasty glare of his and murderous aura always does the trick.

has and will continue to run with you in his arms up and down the stairs. he got so fed up with the crowded stairs one time that he just scooped you up bridal style and ran up those stairs in 5 seconds flat, without even having to take a breath after.

“what mausi?” he questions, playing dumb and shrugging his shoulders. “you can’t just pick me up and run up the stairs seb!” you smack his chest, embarrassed. he laughs it off “well it worked didn’t it? and besides schatzi, what do i have these muscles for if not to help you, hm? i’m retired now, these are all for you.” and well. you can’t be mad at him after that can you?

god help any other passengers that happen to be nearby if both nikto AND kruger are accompanying you on public transport. everybody else would be maintaining a 6ft (minimum) distance from you three at all times, at all costs. (and, hey, no complaints from you, so. /shrug/)

[velvetydream]

꒰ : 🥀 [ Python ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

─────────────────────────────────────

Summary : Yougyeom comes home to you blasting their newest song.

Pairing : Yugyeom x fem! Reader

Word count : 0.6K Words

Genre/Warning : Fluff - Nakedness but non sexual

a/n : Forgot to make this gn! Ahh I hope this is still okay, maybe I'll overwork it someday to be gn!.. TT Request : @xleeleeboox

─────────────────────────────────────

The day went by so slowly. Yugyeom had told you he wanted to bring you to the celebration of the Winter Heptagon release with the boys, but the meeting and training were taking much longer today. All of the boys, by now, probably very much exhausted and just wanting to go to the dinner and celebrate, finally let loose and enjoy a calm evening of friends.

Speakers were blasting the seven voices of your angelic boys when Yugyeomd's voice came up, making you smile. Getting ready in his big apartment was always nice; he had such a big bathroom, the rain shower making you relax before putting on one of the fluffy matching bathrobes Yugyeom got you two. Before moving on to the mirror, dry your hair before styling it with some products, fluffing your hair up nicely. "Shot through the chest; I was falling for the shooter~" Your voice echoes through the bathroom along to Youngjae's powerful voices.

Moving onto your makeup, you grab your bag from the cabinet, rummaging through it to find the correct products; you would be going for just a light makeup since it was just the boys and some of their significant others eating out and celebrating. Swaying your hips to the song, which us now probably playing for the fifth time already, trying to rap along to Mark and Jacksons parts, but failing miserably. You've probably watched the music video around ten times since it dropped this afternoon, knowing the lyrics by heart already.

"But she got a hold on me like a python~" You sing along, looking up into the mirror again, mascara wand in hand before your eyes lock with certain brown ones, shrieking and swallowing the lyrics at the end, sounding like a dying cat for a second, making the man burst out in laughter behind you. "Yah! How long have you been standing there?!" Turning around, you accusingly wave the mascara wand at your boyfriend, just encouraging his laughing fit, two tears softly running down his cheek from laughing too hard. Pouting softly, you turn back around, mumbling under your breath as you apply the mascara.

"Sorry, sorry! You were just too adorable, dancing and singing our song!" Yugyeoms arms circle around you softly, leaning his head on your shoulder. He looked tired, but his eyes were still full of adoration for you. "I love it when you sing our songs, darling; really, it's so cute to see you dance and sing along.." He presses a soft kiss to your cheek before moving away, starting to undress to take a quick shower. "Your laughing said something different!" You groan, cheeks a soft red from glancing at his broad back before focusing on your makeup again. "That was only because of your reaction lovely!" He grinds as the water hits his body, cascading down his muscles.

"I'll get dressed, don't take too long!" Humming, acknowledging, you move to the room, opening your closet. Looking through the many options, you opt for a simple dress, not too tight, but perfectly short, to pay him back. "You really wanna wear that? Isn't it too short? Last time you wore it, Jackson couldn't take his eyes off you.." Yugyeom pouts, approaching you; turning around to him, you raise an eyebrow. "He complimented it once because he is an ambassador for the brand, and you know that. Don't be dramatic, Yugy.." Jackson, maybe indeed, did look you up and down one too many times that night, but it was just friendly banter and teasing his younger friend, and you knew that.

"Guess I'll just have to make sure you'll stay glued to my side all night today." Pulling you closer by the waist, his bare chest comes in contact with yours. Leaning down to seal his lips with yours in a soft yet passionate kiss, making sure you knew he was serious. Overprotective dummy. "As if you don't always do that, Yugy; let's get dressed before anyone complains that we're too late." He lets out a sigh as he watches you put the dress on before moving over to his side of the wardrobe to get himself dressed.

[bufomancer]

Spirit Keeper Animal Sanctuary (you may know Lori Torrini from her force free snake training videos!) in Colorado is taking the lead on a large intake of 50-70 ball pythons and one african grey parrot from a heartbreaking situation in Nebraska.

The situation is still unfolding but many of the snakes are underweight and may have other health concerns. Vet care for 50+ animals is not cheap and neither is setting up suitably sized enclosures with proper heating and lighting.

If you can spare a few dollars to help these snakes out, please do so: http://paypal.com/us/fundraiser/charity/1213006

Spirit Keeper Animal Sanctuary is a 501c3 organization and I can personally vouch for the people involved. These animals will be in amazing hands once they are in the care of SKAC. (Note- they used to be called Spirit Keeper Equine Sanctuary hence the name on paypal, but they help dogs, reptiles, and other animals too)

[thlpp]

Have you seen that someone (Clint from Clint's Reptiles) target-trained his tegu? I thought it was super cool. I know a lot of tegus can be a bit bitey because they associated human hands with food, so they think it's feeding time, which is why Clint decided to give target-training a try.

(Clint is a zoologist with a YouTube channel for people who aren't familiar)

Idk, tegus are so cool. Reptiles (and a lot of non-mammals tbh) are a lot smarter than a lot of people think and target training is a good demonstration of that (I also know of an animal sanctuary that is target training an alligator, so it's not just tegus)

Short answer: yes, I watched all of Clint's videos about argentine tegus, including the one showing how he target-trained Gus-Gus. These videos helped affirm my interest in adopting a tegu myself, but the one of the largest factors have been posts by @kaijutegu showing how intelligent and rewarding tegus can be as companions.

Before picking up my new friend from her old keepers, I bought a shocking pink dog toy to be our training target. I chose this specific shade because I personally am allergic to pink, and don't own anything of that color, which would make the toy uniquely associated with feeding time.

I stuck it on a stick and have been showing it to her when offering food. Her lack of appetite and desire to just nap (trying to brumate, I guess) make it a bit difficult with the training, since food is the main reward in that system, and if she's not interested in food, the rest just doesn't work.

The flip side of this is that she's not been trying to nibble on my hands as a snack, so there's that.

We're still establishing rapport, though, and having a solid foundation of trust is pretty much a requirement for any enriching interaction between her and me. I'm looking forward to when we get there!

She was being given up because of changes to her temperament, supposedly becoming cage-defensive and bitey, explained by her entering "guberty" (tegu puberty). I haven't seen a lot of that from her, but this may be because I'm a New Person and therefore Scary, I don't know.

She did bite my sleeve once while I was trying to get her from under a sideboard, but that was clearly because she felt cornered (which she was). After being extracted from under the furniture and on the way to the cage, she also scratched my wrist trying to wiggle herself free, but that one time was very different from her typical behavior. Since then the access to underneath the sideboard has been barricaded shut, so as to avoid repeating this situation, as neither of us enjoyed it.

I have been picking her up almost daily without incident since, so she's not quite the anger monster I was expecting.

Note on picking up tegus: My understanding is that the best way to pick them up is kind of like you would a bunny rabbit: the football hold. Scoop your forearm under the tegu's chest, tummy, and pelvic girdle, then gently grip the base of tail with other hand. My new friend hasn't objected to being lifted that way.

PS - This is not a blanket endorsement of all things Clint has ever said and done. I'm highly critical of his support of breeding spider ball pythons, for one, so don't at me. However the vast majority of his videos are filled with good information, and if he manages to prevent people from impulse-buying a venomous snake or a crocodilian, he's doing good.

[ectologia]

love your stuff!! would you be ok with making something about bakugo just being a bully?

HARD TIMES

KATSUKI BAKUGOU X F!READER

𝐂𝐖 ♱ DUBCON/NONCON, BULLYING, ABUSE, SWEATY ARMPITS, PISS, HUMILIATION, MISOGYNY, SIZE KINK, SIZE DIFFERENCE, CRUEL NICKNAMES, DEGRADATION, OBJECTIFICATION, PROFANITY

“Hey.”

You shuffle down the corridor quicker at the deep, rumbling snarl. Twisting the straps of your bag tighter in your clammy fists as you take long, purposeful strides, almost skipping in your steps.

“Hey, don’t ignore me.” A heavy palm lands on your shoulder, squeezing like a python once your back collides with the wall.

Your eyes follow the stocky blonde’s form all the way up his hard chest, chasing to confirm the two crimson rubies placed atop his tanned features like the gems of a crown.

Bakugou juts his chin upwards in an abrasive fashion the moment you whimper under the pressure of his fingertips.

“I didn’t see you in math today.”

You sweep his hand off, shuffling backwards beneath his stoic gaze. “I.. Uhm.. I switched classes..” You mumble, barely coherent under your meek breath.

“Why’s that.”

It’s not a question, nor does he care for an answer.

One thudding foot after another and he’s in your shadow, looming over you like the sun swallowing the moon.

Two thick biceps come to rest by your spinning head, propped against the wall at the perfect angle for the heady stench of his sweaty armpits to suffocate you in the tight space.

“I’m disappointed, I was looking forward to seeing my little cock-sock today.”

You turn, raising a defensive fore-arm. “Please, Bakugou. Not today, I—”

He curls a set of scarred fingers around the flimsy joint, stretching it upwards until he has you pinned like a butterfly, helpless and vulnerable against the wall.

“What’s my name?” He scoffs.

You squeal once the calloused digits tense, popping and rolling your delicate bones in a painful hug.

“Katsuki! Katsuki!”

His fist goes limp once again. “There we go.. stupid bitch.”

The heavy appendage drops back down to his side, as does yours. You rub at the red stripes left across your skin, encouraging the blood to pool back into your veins.

“I ain’t got much time, training’s in 20 minutes.”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up, brows knitted in pardon.

His eyes roll in their sockets. “Get your pussy out, need to fuck something.”

Panic strikes and you’re flinching away.

“Hey, stop acting like such a little victim — just spread ‘em.”

It takes him less than 3 seconds to do it himself. You’re hoisted up onto the window-sill with one large palm splayed across your ass, while the other comes down to paw at the fabric stretched across your chubby mound.

“Thought I told you to stop wearing these shitty shorts under your skirt.”

“I can’t, they’re part of the uniform policy!”

“Blah, blah, bitch.” He tugs at the black spandex. “All I’m hearing is you want your pussy lips burnt off.”

The fibres twang and snap under the crackling heat of his quirk, disconnecting until a grand burning hole is left in the garment.

“Katsuki!”

“That’s me.” He snickers with a toothy grin, pulling away to inspect the tiny slit between your legs.

“Did you get looser?” He cleaves the swollen folds apart, hooking two thumbs around the gooey rim of your pussyhole.

You tuck your chin into your chest, frowning down at his ministrations.

“Only joking babe.” He spanks your clit, chuckling at the way your legs jump. “She’s still good for another fuck or two.”

He wastes no time, pulling the stiff length of his fat dick out to slap against your puffed up pussy.

“Let’s do this quick, yeah? Don’t really wanna be seen piping a loser, no offence.”

You’re swung back and forth by the hinges of your knees with your feet left dangling in the air, clumsily knocking his back with every hop.

His hips clap against the crease of your thighs, pumping in and out of your sloppy cunny as the bulbous head of his cock pokes at your cervix.

“Oh, fuck, yeah. Bounce that fat-ass back on me, just like that.” He howls through the thin space of his pursed lips, huffing and puffing as he lifts you up and down on his prick.

“B— Katsuki!”

“Shh, shut up.”

He squeezes your face in between his fingers, smothering your mouth in an attempt to keep your cries to a minimum.

A dewy sheen bubbles along his hairline, darkening the beach blond spikes until the ends droop from the humidity. The way his large frame tips forward to knock his sweaty forehead against yours has you mewling, clawing at his shoulders for stability and some form of comfort as he uses you like his own girlie little flesh-light.

“Mmh.. Fuck on it, fuck on that cock, fuck on that big fat monster cock.”

His rapid thumping slows to a mellow pace as a ponderous expression befalls him. “All this humping’s making me need a piss.”

At this, you yelp. Thrashing around in his arms like a fish out of water.

He takes one step, two steps, towards the window until you’re squashed and squished against the glass.

“Well done piggie. You’ve just been promoted to Katsuki Bakugou’s new toilet.”

The torrid stream has you feeling almost bloated, on the brink of bursting as you’re pumped full off cock and piss, dribbling and squirting out of the tiny seam left in the space that Katsuki has yet to fill. Your toes curl and cripple from the positively sickening warmth of his urine spraying out of your cunt, sloshing around in what you can only assume is your womb.

“Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff…” His ears twitch at the sensation of releasing inside your body.

Your head lounges against your shoulder, floating in and out of consciousness until a stinging smack to your cheek has you shaking yourself awake.

“You passin’ out on me already?” He adjusts his position, bringing your pliable, fucked-out body closer towards his chest.

“I ain’t even cum yet, baby.”

[amphitriteswife]

💛🧡Rejection🧡💛

Tagging: @praisethesuuun @mizz-sea-nymph @nicasdreamer @swallowtail-lotus

I know i made it male reader but feel free to see your oc sunny!😈

Apollo x male! Reader.

Apollo, god of the Sun, one of the 12 olympians and twin brother of the moon goddess herself, Artemis. That’s what he was most known for. Yet many forgot he was so much more than that. For example being the god of medicine, music, boys, knowledge and so much more. He was well loved among the ancient greeks. Often seen as the male beauty. In many of his famous tales Apollo falls in love with a man or woman, yet it always ends badly for them, causing Apollo to have them turned into flowers. Yet despite all the recognition, the glorious tales of him defeating the monster Python… he wasn’t always a saint.

Clutching your bow in one hand, you looked at the boar you just hunted. The boar was usually a symbol or offer to the lady Artemis herself. Once again, failing to have an offer for the god you worship. It was tiring and disappointing. Now it was a waste if you didn’t do anything with the now dead boar. Until the idea hit you that you might offer it to Artemis without entering her temple as only women or her priestesses are allowed to enter in. Walking in the direction of the temple you met one of the priestesses, giving her the boar and turning on your heel to go back to train with your bow, yet you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being followed. It was an uneasy feeling in your gut that told you to keep watching who was behind you. Ignoring the feeling but not the suspicion, you clutched your bow and narrowed your eyes. The sudden sound of leaves rattling made you alert as you quickly raised your bow, pulling out an arrow and aiming at the source of the sound, your hand pulling on the string before firing the arrow without missing a beat.

Steading your breath, you listing closely, hearing the sound of your arrow hitting something followed by a rather loud and dramatic ‘OW’ which made you a bit stunned before you hesitantly walked into the direction of where you shot your arrow. Moving some of the leaves and bushes you could finally see…a naked man in the lake? The sight was honestly a little baffling since most of the warriors were already back at the training camp, and not to mention the light shade of the pink hair which was a unusual color for human hair, walking closer you could see the little red liquid in the pond water, slowly getting thinner the more it stayed in the water. Following the trail of blood you could recognize seeing your own arrow in the right shoulder of the man. The man seemed confused as to why he suddenly got hit by an arrow. Your arrow. Guilt filled your being as you walked closer to the man, wanting to help him stop the bleeding yet when you were about to call him out he pulled out the arrow himself. His hand hovered over the cut before a yellow light surrounded the area where he ws hurt, the wound slowly closing under the dim light.

Suddenly, the man turned behind him. Staring at you wide eyed. He had hazel pupils, something that was rare, yet not unusual. You too stared back at him shocked. Who the hell was this man? Was it a magician? A witch? Should you tell someone? This can’t be real. This cannot be happening. ‘You look like you saw a ghost…well I’m even better.’ The man spoke to you, his hazel eyes focused on you. He had sharp features and a cocky arrogant smirk playing on his thin yet pink lips. He had a nice, lean yet muscular body and his voice was smooth and almost velvety…it made your head a little light and dizzy. ‘Are you feeling alright mortal? Can’t have you passing out on me?’ He told you in a hearty chuckling tone. He was suspicious. He must’ve done something to you. Your vision was a little clouded and your head felt heavy. ‘What have you done to me?’ You asked him placing one hand on your head. Massaging it a little. Your eyes focused on the suspicious man. The man Hmph-ed and scoffed. Closing his eyes, seemingly hurt and offended that he was accused of something like that.

‘I didn’t do anything, you idiot. Who do you take me for? That’s no way to talk your god!’ he said to you, crossing his arms and keeping his head high. How arrogant! And why is he claiming to be a god? That’s disrespectful! Claiming to be a god is highly disrespectful and insulting to your religion. ‘You can’t just claim you’re a god mister. It’s disrespectful.’ You told him carefully which made him scoff at you. ‘I’m no pretender! Seriously who do you take me for! It’s me! Apollo! Your lord! Your sweet, charming, loving, amazing sun god!’ Apollo told you proud fully, his strawberry pink like hair glistening in the waters. But he couldn’t help but chuckle when he looked at your flabbergasted face. His arms reached out to your body and he pulled you in the water with him. His hands on your broad shoulders while he looked you deep into your eyes, his face held a confident smirk and his hands soon began to make its way to your face, cupping it slightly. ‘Keep your god company, won’t you?’ Apollo asked you softly whispering in your ear. The sudden action once again made your head spin.

There was no denying that Apollo was attractive and charming….and seductive. But it was still highly Inappropriate to have something with the god you worship. Would you be allowed to go into the temple again? What if you end up like most of his lovers who have met unfortunate fates? Dying isn’t something you wanted…even if being with your god seemed like a dream. Would it really be a good choice to accept? Is that really what you want? So many questions yet so little answers. It made you dizzy and uncomfortable which cause you to take a fews steps back which made the god stunned. ‘I don’t know if that’s what i want...’ You told him slowly and carefully. You didn’t want to make quick and reckless decisions.. there was too much at stake. ‘I decline. I’m sorry my lord’ You told him carefully but firmly. Even if you loved your god, it was still platonic and admiration. Not romantic love like he hoped.

To not make the situation worse you walked out of the waters, apologized for the arrow and took your leave. Leaving Apollo, even if it was still hard to process in your state of disbelief that it was really him, alone in the waters who was confused himself. Apollo was never rejected by anyone, causing him to have a stir of mixed emotions. He was hurt that you didn’t feel for him. Yet also angry you had the audacity to reject him. Yet also admiration that you wanted to put yourself first. He himself felt strange, but he was a powerful and confidant being. And rejected won’t a final answer. After all. In Apollo’s myths he never took no for an answer either…

🌻Thank you for reading! 🌻

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

Happy Lunar New Year! I felt that I ought to begin the Year of the Snake with the most regal of the snake-like pokémon: serperior! Unfortunately, this elegant pokémon won’t be the best fit for many pet owners, but their status in a line of first-partner pokémon necessitates a close look at the nitty gritty.

For starters (pun intended), serperiors are pretty huge. Like with other serpentine pokémon, we will assume that their height statistics refer to their length. At nearly eleven feet long, serperiors are longer than your average pet snake, but comes in at around the same length as some boas and pythons. If we assume that serperiors are as expert at finding cozy places to sleep as these gentle giants, then space may not be an extreme issue, despite this Pokémon’s size. Just make sure that your serperior has some space where they can take in natural light: like many Grass-Type pokémon, they absorb energy from the sun (Y). Their weight, however, may present more problems: at 138 pounds, carrying a serperior around is no easy feat. Unless you are a pro at handling large pokémon, I would steer clear of this species, as you might have a hard time getting them to the vet and on other important excursions. Of course, you could always have the vet do a home visit instead, so this isn’t necessarily a complete dealbreaker.

So, like I said earlier, serperiors have the distinguished reputation of being the end of an evolution line that serves as popular starting one for trainers in the Unova region. This means that Unova parents seem to trust this pokémon around children, and that they are easy enough to train. This is a huge character witnessing for serperiors’ safety rating, but the pokédex does bring up some reason for concern. In the wild, serperiors are known to “stop opponents’ movements with just a glare” (Black). A close reading of the pokédex seems to indicate that this isn’t some supernatural ability, but rather flat intimidation from a ten-feet serpent (Violet). That’s good news! But, there’s some bad news along with it.

While serperiors are known to only really attack something if they see them as a threat, or a “powerful opponent”, their bar for determining this is based on whether or not said thing is fazed by their glare (White, Black2/White2). This creates a tricky predicament. If you want to avoid any aggression from your serperior, you’ll need to freeze whenever they give you their signature glare. If you don’t, well, you run the risk of them seeing you as a powerful opponent. And trust me, you don’t want to get in a fight with this pokémon, with powerful nutrient draining moves like Giga Drain and slashing abilities like Leaf Blade or Leaf Storm. Caring for a serperior is all about making sure they feel, well, superior. This may be somewhat negated if you have raised your serperior since they were a snivy, but we can’t assume that on this blog.

Overall, however, it seems like avoiding a serperior attack against you is pretty straightforward. Against strangers…. I wouldn’t suggest risking it. Unless your serperior has been carefully trained from a young age, their peculiar behavior is going to make them too much of a handful for many owners. If you do plan to own one, I would start by adopting a snivy and raising them up, rather than adopting a serperior directly. You can find the link to my boat about the A-tier snivy below!

Snivy Link: https://www.tumblr.com/would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend/734364923431370752/would-the-snivy-line-make-good-pets-from-a?source=share

[chungledown-bimothy]

The Fix's Facts

The Big Guy:

-For every snake, there is one snake dick. Snakes have 2 dicks. (said thrice)

The Scattered Mind:

-The tails on a swallowtail butterfly's wings don't serve any aerodynamic purpose. They're there so birds will grab them, at which point they'll break off and the swallowtail can escape.

-Eyes can't be itchy. They, unlike the membranes around them, don't have itch receptors.

-More than half the bones in your body are in your hands and feet.

F For Freezer: (and for facts!)

-The urethra contains taste receptors

-When eagles grip onto something, they have to flex a muscle to let go. An eagle can hold onto something so hard that even after it dies, it never lets go.

-Most of the pyramids on Earth are in Sudan.

-Pelicans have three stomachs, one of which is just for bones.

-Acids are easy to detect, oxygen and carbon dioxide are not. But when carbon dioxide meets water, like it does in our blood, it creates carbonic acid. This means our bodies can detect the presence of carbon dioxide, but not the presence or absence of oxygen.

If we are deprived of oxygen, we have no idea that that is happening as long as we are breathing out carbon dioxide. If we are not breathing oxygen, we just go to sleep and die. But if we allow the CO2 to build up, we panic. We flail. We break. Until finally, we die.

Grappling With Death:

-People can have constipation so bad that it will back up and impact their vagus nerve. As they are eliminating that impacted stool, it can have an effect on the nervous system so great that they forget who they are. Constipation-related amnesia. A woman in Tokyo forgot who she was for 8 hours.

-Bones are living.

-The reason we produce blood inside of our bones is because it's one of the places that's safest from UV radiation.

-There are some birds that can produce a nutritious substance that's a kind of milk. It's almost like lactation, but it evolved separately (convergent evolution). Pigeons do it.

-There are some salamanders that feed their babies their own skin

BONUS ROUND: Brennan "Bird Facts" Lee Mulligan

-There are some species of birds that have a secondary pouch in their esophagus/digestive tract where they have what's called a craw, that has stones or other hard material to help break up food matter before it passes into the rest of their digestive tract.

-Woodpeckers have a tongue bone called a hyoid bone that wraps around their brain because it needs to protect their brain from the impact of pounding into trees to devour their common meal items, grubs and larval insects.

Emergency Powers:

-You can't hum while you're blocking your nose.

-The longest animal is the bootlace worm.

-There are some reptiles that have a light-sensing organ on the top of their head so they can sense shadows that might be coming from something that's coming for them.

BONUS ROUND 2: Brennan's Back, Baby

-The black mamba has been observed at top speeds of 12.5 miles per hour. At that speed, it would almost certainly catch even some of the fastest humans on the planet. Even faster people wouldn't have the stamina, because resting or average speed is 7.5 miles an hour, which is faster than the human average, which is 6, and that's for healthy adults.

-The reticulated python is the longest snake in the world. The biggest is the anaconda.

Case Closed:

-There's little creatures in the sea that make pretty little lights. Why would they do that? It attracts little fishes who suck them up, and the light makes the fish glow. This attracts more little fish.

-The North Pole is actually a South Pole, because when you look at a compass, it points north. But the north pole of the compass is what's pointing north, and north poles point to the south poles.

BONUS ROUND 3: Once More, With Feeling

-Diners originate from dining cars on trains. The first diners were the dining cars of trains that had been taken out of service and were used stationarily as restaurants.

[lunarw0rks]

which one of the boys fits this scenario?

play fighting but things get kinda heated so now they’re fucking you from behind while having you in a headlock 😭🥹

a/n: hm... my mind immediately went to gaz ;) anon u have a big brain, this awakened something... though I only see this happening if you two were in some kind of relationship other than platonic.

☾𓂃❛🍰❜┊ training in progress

warning(s): explicit content (18+), established relationship, p^rn w/ little plot, p in v sex, primal play??, size kink if you squint, breath play, degradation + praise, unsafe sex, fem!reader, no use of y/n

word count: 900 ♡ masterlist // requests // ask box

bf!gaz who always took his time with you, but wasn't afraid to give newer, more rash things a try. he thought about it before, though it seemed he was waiting for you to pitch the idea first. or more so... an opportunity.

bf!gaz who for once, wasn't thinking of those desires tonight. the two of you were "sparring" on the living room floor. well, more like; kyle pinning you with ease, taunting you, and then giving you seconds to flee.

bf!gaz who gave you a few seconds to crawl away and attempt to restrict his arms in any way. you kicked your legs into his toned abdomen, earning merely a grunt that only plunged him closer. ❝no, you don't!❞ gaz grunted, giving your legs a whack while twisting your torso; forcing you onto your stomach.

bf!gaz who snaked an arm around you, your neck pinned by the strength of his arm; a successful headlock. he had just now figured out he had his golden opportunity. what could you do, besides voice an actual refusal? which of course, hadn't happened yet. kyle grimaced to himself, other hand slithering down your stomach, soon finding the inside of your panties.

bf!gaz who both degraded and praised you for being aroused, ❝so fuckin' wet for me, good girl.❞ all he had done was wrestle with you and you had soaked your panties. perhaps it was all the grunting, the taunting, or how your legs found their way around his waist after each relentless pin he had you in. in other words, twenty minutes of pent-up sexual tension, disguised by a playful sparring session.

bf!gaz who wasted no time practically yanking your bottoms off you, all while your back has been against his chest, a helpless squirm to get out of the hold — yet no refusing the idea of him fucking you like this. his clothed erection, pressing against your rear, it only remained clothed for seconds, before kyle sprung it from his boxers.

bf!gaz who gave you no time to adjust to him, because he knew you would be good for him. his cock, dripping with pre-cum — guided with force into you slick core, before he began to thrust like it was the last time he'd ever be inside you. ❝such a slag, i bet you're enjoyin' this, aren't you?❞

bf!gaz who couldn't accept moans or whines as an answer. at least not tonight. the headlock you were in tightened, until you could barely suck in oxygen, ❝asked you a question.❞ he hissed into your ear, thrusting even rougher, as if to enhance his taunts.

bf!gaz who loosened his grip once he heard your attempt at a formal answer, smirking at every stammer in your sentence. though, despite you doing so well, this headlock was too enhancing to remove you from. kyle's full length, bottomed out inside you with each rut into your cunt, rasps growing in frequency and volume.

bf!gaz who was using his strength to his advantage, using you as if you were his own personal toy tonight — to be manipulated into whatever position he desired until he finished. ❝don't whine, you asked for this. christ... can't believe this is all mine.❞ his forearm dug into your neck again, like a python had slithered around your throat. he was close, seconds from spilling his seed inside you.

bf!gaz whose groans were insignificant compared to the sounds of skin slapping echoing through the living room, combined with your incoherent babbling and gasps for air.

bf!gaz who knew he would cum in seconds, using his pressing weight to pin you against the floor, head raised from the hold. ❝gonna cum inside this cunt, make it mine, hm?❞ you were seeing ebony spots, but so deep in pleasure that it didn't matter. if anything, the constriction was only tightening the sensation of his pounding thrusts.

bf!gaz who came so hard he had to slow down, muscles tensing to the max — probably the last squeeze you could handle without passing out. his thrusts halted as he spurted his seed deep inside you, draining every last drop, a drawn-out curse right into your ear as his climax concluded.

bf!gaz who pulled out of you to watch the semen drip out of your cunt, down your legs, and some on the hardwood. you were out of the headlock, catching the breath you had lost while on your hands and knees. the act dropped when he asked if you were alright, earning a nod of approval from your fucked-out self — all you could muster. unlike earlier, a silent answer was more than acceptable.

... bf!gaz who wasn't done yet. he stroked himself for a few moments, then guided his cock into you again, re-inserting all the evidence of his last climax right back into you. it was near overstimulation, being rutted into all over again.

bf!gaz who went gradually this time; moderately paced thrusts into your cunt during the second round, holding your waist tenderly. this time no restriction on your airflow or your replies to his traunts and praises.

bf!gaz who kissed your clothed shoulder blades, sinking into the fabric of your shirt to hold his pace accountable. kyle felt the pool of wetness forming around his length — some slick from before, some from now, and some lubricant being his own seed. each agonizing thrust met with a wettened squelch from your soaked and core.

bf!gaz who knew you must be filled to the brim by now, literally and figuratively, but needed to cum again. this time, with less brute force. ❝so fuckin' good, sweetheart,❞ his methodical rutting continued, enough to make your eyes half-lidded. kyle's rhetocial question, answered by himself, and only himself; ❝should i make you cum this time? i think you've earned it.❞

[lokiified]

a world with you

summary: when you get back from a mission, and Ethan isn't there.

pairing: ethan hunt x f!agent!reader

word count: 2.8k

author's notes: descriptions of injury, mention of a python snake, anxiety over major character death, flirty banter and some suggestive stuff, reference to a Jason Mraz song, so angsty for a bit but sweet fluff i promise, established relationship, no use of y/n, taking care of ethan bc he deserves it, i imagined this with mi2 ethan bc that look is just unmatched so this takes place in like 2007

The innocent mumble of traffic below the window was starting to give you a headache. Your ears had been strained, pricked-up to the slightest of noises, for what felt like ages.

Battered and bruised from the mission, you’d stumbled into the safehouse a mere hour ago. You were running on only adrenaline and Ethan’s training playing on loop in your brain as you instinctively started undressing to clean your wounds. The haze in your mind mercifully numbed the burn of rubbing alcohol and the aches in your bones, and when you finally came-to you’d showered and changed into a clean set of clothes. It was then that you realized that you didn’t know where Ethan was.

“If I don’t make it back, please don’t come looking for me,” he’d always said, brushing gentle lines across your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, “keep yourself safe first.” He would press a soft kiss to your forehead, as if it would seal his words into your mind.

But now, now that he really wasn’t here, now that it was the fear of a dreaded possibility coming true that was clawing it’s way done your spine, it took more strength than any mission to keep yourself from throwing on your jacket and boots and marching back into the world, exhausted as you were, to find him.

The mission was simple: get in, plant a trace on a necklace in the hotel’s vault, and get out. You’d both been expecting the security in the back hallways of the hotel, but what you hadn’t prepared for was that one of the goons was an ex-agent, defected and gone rogue a few years prior; he recognized the two of you immediately. In the midst of the struggle, you’d been separated from Ethan.

Now, hands trembling as they fidgeted in your lap, you were waiting. The window in the living room was open and the apartment was dark, depriving every other sense to focus all of your attention on listening, waiting for Ethan to come back. Surely he was going to come back?

But the men were big and there were at least a dozen of them, and the memory was pierced with the crack of gunshots beneath the haze of adrenaline as you made a break for it.

You… made a break for it? Why did you run? Why didn’t you stay and fight like Ethan probably did? You were such a coward. How could you leave him there to fend for himself? Of course he’s can take care of himself, but what if he’s dead?

Then it would be your fault.

The guilt suddenly choked your lungs like a python with its prey, stifled sobs wreaking silent havoc on your body as you pulled your legs up to your chest and hugged yourself, burying your face into your knees. He was dead and it was your fault, all your fault. He had always been so selfless, so brave and so willing to do anything for you, even back when he barely knew you. You were a horrible person. You could never face Luther again; not with the knowledge that it was your fault Ethan was dead, that you had killed him—

“Agent?”

Your head snapped up from your knees, eyes locking onto the figure that had appeared in the window’s reflection. The sudden roar of blood pounding in your ears made you dizzy, and you squinted into the inky black night as you stumbled through the fog in your brain: he certainly looked like your Ethan, although the silhouette of his hair falling around his shoulders was the only detail you could make out in the darkness, but it seem impossible. He couldn’t be here. You’d left him behind, he was dead and it was all your fault. But then who was this man that had the key to the safehouse? Should you run? Suddenly the reflection was moving, then there was movement in your peripheral, and a figure that looked a whole lot like the Ethan you loved came and crouched in front of you.

“Hey,” he whispered, “I’m right here.”

His hands reached your waist but you jumped back at his touch and scrambled into the cushions, half expecting this to all be a hallucination. His hands recoiled and quickly raised in surrender, his brows twitching together with worry as he watched you, your chest beginning to heave in panic. Your heart longed to believe it was Ethan, wanted nothing more than to melt into his touch, but it didn’t make sense for him to be here.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, keeping his eyes trained on yours as he slowly lowered a hand. You eyed the gun on the holster around his shoulders, but he moved past it and found the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one slowly and moving to slide the shirt over his shoulders. He quickly dropped it on the floor and brought his hands up again.

“It’s me, okay? I promise. You can check, I promise it’s me.”

You inspected him from afar, noting the smattering of bruises across his ribs and the graze of a bullet on the underside of his right arm, crusted over with blood. His skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat and grime, but nowhere could you find any seams or signs of deception. You moved closer to him.

“Tell me something only my Ethan would know about me,” you said, your voice wavering in the aftermath of your panic. Ethan smiled, warming your heart with his radiance.

“Our first date was two years ago, in Rome, when our mission got called off after we’d already landed. I took you to dinner at a rooftop restaurant that overlooked the city, and we danced to that Jason Mraz song you love so much-“

“A World With You,” you finished with him, slipping off the cushion and into his open arms on the floor. His arms encircled you and squeezed gently, and your tears came spilling out of you at the comfort of his touch. He moved so his back was against the couch and you were cradled in his arms, his head resting atop yours as he stroked your arms to soothe you.

“I thought you were dead, I thought they killed you… I thought you were dead and it was my fault because I left you there, how could I leave you there?” The words tumbled out of you between sobs, your mind and body expelling all of your fears into his warm embrace.

“No, hey, I told you to run, remember?” He said, bringing a hand to lift your face and look at him. “I told you to run as soon as the guard recognized us, remember?” You shook your head, trying to recall his voice but all you could hear was the sound of gunshots and shouting fading behind you as you raced through the halls.

“I promise I told you to run, okay?” He brushed away the trail of tears on your cheeks and moved the hair out of your face as he spoke. “You were just following orders, you did the right thing.” His voice was like a balm to your wounds, soothing the guilt that gripped your chest. The rest of the night was coming back to you; Ethan’s frantic shout when he realized the situation with the guard, his promise to come find you. Your breathing evened out. You became aware of his own heart beating solidly beneath your weight, of the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“Yeah… yeah okay,” you whispered, resting your head against his chest again. You focused on breathing, on the steady thumping of Ethan’s heart, the proof that he was alive here with you.

“We should really get you cleaned up,” you said after a while, and he sighed.

“I missed you,” he replied as he squeezed you tighter.

“I missed you too, but that doesn’t change the fact that you desperately need a shower.” His head sprung away from resting atop yours and he looked at you in disbelief.

“What are you saying, Agent?”

You pecked a kiss on his nose and grinned, “you stink.”

He broke into a grin and leaned closer to you, placing a hand on the back of your head and capturing your lips in a kiss. You moved in perfect tandem with each other, the anxieties of the day fading into the background as you poured your heart into this moment, this single moment where nothing else exists besides the two of you, kissing in the dark like two teenagers on stolen time.

Your arms draped over his shoulders and your hands moved to tangle in his hair, pressing your body against his as if you could get any closer to him. His hands moved between cupping your face and gripping your waist like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you more. His teeth caught your lower lip and you released a breathy moan, and you felt his lips curl into a smile at the sound. He broke away with heavy breathing, pushing your hair out of your face.

“I thought I smelled bad” he whispered with a smile as you caught your breath.

“Oh you do.” Ethan leaned in to kiss you again, but you pulled away and stood to your feet. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” His face melted into a pout and you laughed, causing his lips to twitch up into a smile and betray his feigned offence. You reached your hands out to him and he accepted your help, standing up slowly. You noted the way he grimaced as he stood and your eyes flicked across his body in search of the source of his pain.

“Do you need help walking to the bathroom?” you asked, then rolled your eyes when he quickly shook his head. “Let me rephrase that: I’m going to help you walk to the bathroom.” Ethan grinned at you and accepted your aid, slinging an arm around your shoulder and lending you some of his weight. Slowly, the two of you made it to the bathroom where you set him down on the closed toilet seat. His shirt stayed behind on the floor of the living room, and in the dim light and sweet aroma of the candles you found in the cupboard you helped Ethan peel off the rest of his clothes and expose the wounds underneath. Mercifully, there were no major gashes besides the bullet graze on his arm.

“Are you injured at all?”

You gave him a stern look, “you’re not allowed to ask that until I’m done taking care of you.” You finished wrapping his arm and stepped back to inspect the rest of him, then walked over to the tub and started running the hot water.

You noticed the way his eyes followed you wherever you went, his gaze warm and filled with longing, like you were the most important thing in the world.

As the tub filled up you helped Ethan to his feet and into the now ankle-deep water. You pulled two towels and a facecloth from the shelf and put them on the mat in front of the tub. You’d showered earlier, but you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to pamper Ethan after a hard day. Goodness knows he deserves it.

You shut off the water and slid out of your sweats and t-shirt, the chill of the darkened apartment hitting you suddenly before you dipped your toes in the water. It was the perfect temperature, and warmed you instantly as you submitted yourself further into its embrace. You both sat facing each other, knees to your chests, the steam of the water rising up to color your cheeks and twist Ethan’s hair into curls.

Allowing the silence to linger like the steam in the air, you motioned for Ethan to turn around so his back was to you. You cupped your hands and brought water up to his head, soaking his hair through. You smiled to yourself as you reached for the shampoo, grateful that Ethan had remembered to bring his own products. He was very passionate about his precious hair, and the IMF’s safehouse supplies were never up to his standards.

You massaged the product into his scalp, the tension that remained in his neck melting away with every press of your fingers. His head rolled back and his shoulders dropped, and you caught a glimpse of his small smile, eyes closed in bliss. I should do this more often, you thought to yourself.

When you were done with his hair you pulled the showerhead from its hook on the wall and rinsed his head, combing your fingers through the strands as you went. Once the last of the shampoo was rinsed out you took the facecloth and lathered it up with soap. Gently, you scrubbed away the sweat and grime from the day, kneading the sore muscles beneath Ethan’s battered skin.

“I remember this one,” you whispered, so as not to startle him in the sacred stillness that had settled over the room. Your ministrations had paused at a long white scar, poorly healed and puckered. You dragged your finger down it, from the top of his right shoulder blade to his waist. “You got it in Malasia, back in ’04.” Ethan turned around to face you, a serious look set into his features.

“I remember,” he said, and you could see him flipping through the memories in his head. “You were captured. I disobeyed direct orders and went to rescue you.”

Your lips twitched up into a smile; he had saved your life that day.

“That was the day I realized I loved you.”

The sound of limbs wading through water wafted up your ears in the steam as you watched Ethan’s face, his hand coming up from the water to cup your face and his head leaning forward to rest against yours. You closed your eyes, feeling the heat radiating from his body and the dew that was rising on his skin from the heat of the water.

You’d always found a way back to each other, even before everything.

After a few minutes he pulled away and pressed a kiss to the edge of your hair, inhaling to smell your shampoo and smiling against your skin. You raised yourself out of the water and his eyes grazed over your body, a hint of his playboy smirk surfacing but he seemed to think better of it; it had been a long, tiring day for the both of you. Instead of whatever had crossed his mind, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on the front of each of your thighs. When you were both dried off, you pulled on your clothes from earlier.

“Let me go get you something, I’ll be right back.”

You returned with a soft cotton t-shirt, a deep green that complimented his tanned skin and chestnut hair beautifully, and his favorite pair of sweatpants. The sight of him in such comfortable clothes, a cheeky smile on his face, made your heart soar with joy. He deserved every comfort you could ever bring him. His hands were warm when they reached yours, fingers intertwining as you lead him into the darkened bedroom, the moon and city lights casting a gentle blue glow onto the bed.

You fell asleep almost instantly, but Ethan laid awake for hours. Despite the exhaustions of the day, he didn’t feel like he could sleep yet. He had been worried about you too; worried he would come back to the safehouse and find it empty, void of your presence which he so desperately needed. He always needed you, but after days like today he felt like he might die without you. There was no one else he felt safe enough to surrender to; no one else he could give his weakness and pain to and trust them to handle it with care.

The gentle rise and fall of your chest beneath his arm was continuously drawing him closer to sleep, but he felt the need to reflect on your time together and make sure he hasn’t taken anything for granted after being half-convinced he had lost you today.

He thought of Rome, of the way your face shone in the glow of the city lights beneath the rooftop where you danced with him. He thought of waking up beside you in countless countries that the average person could never name. He thought of the day he told you he loved you, hiding in a Russian forest while hiding for your lives. He thought of the day you were assigned to his team, your sweet and innocent face immediately lighting up his world despite the darkness that haunts him.

With your hands intertwined, your bodies as close as physically possible, and his mind filled with memories of a world with you, Ethan finally submitted himself to rest.

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 13

THIRTEEN: THE SIMPLE TRUTH

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X FEM READER

Summary: Perspective is everything. Time for Simon's POV.

Tags/Warnings: profanity, angst, gaslighting and manipulation, obsessive/possessive behavior, allusions to stalking

(Notes: consider this my act of contrition for the last two chapters of heartbreaking angst. 🙏🙂‍↕️)

divider & banner: @saradika-graphics

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

-

"It wasn't only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding; above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you.”

― Ian McEwan, Atonement

-

It's rare that Simon Riley is ever caught off guard.

He prides himself on being prepared for any situation. Always thinking three steps ahead, always has a backup plan. Yet he finds himself completely unprepared for the visitor that turns up on his doorstep that morning.

He's already up and moving at the sound of the door chimes, then starts cursing under his breath when he hears you unlock the door. He's told you a thousand times to let him answer it when you weren't expecting company, that it's not safe to open the door to strangers, but you never lis—

"Hey. Simon around?"

Simon freezes in shock when he hears her voice utter his name. Even as he tells himself it can't be her, that primal, animalistic part of his brain has already stirred awake, sensing potential danger.

There's a stunned pause of silence before he hears you reply, "Excuse me?"

You sound wary, confused... Upset? Why would you be upset? You don't know that's his name.

Do you?

Easing closer to the sitting room doorway, Simon peers around the corner, and his worst fear is confirmed. It's Peach, the last person he ever expected or wanted to see again.

Bloody fuckin' hell...

She's standing just outside the front door, towering over you, with an imperious expression on her face. She's trying to intimidate you, but you're standing your ground, blocking her way inside.

Peach smirks, tossing her long, black braid over her shoulder. "Simon Riley. Big, grouchy blond guy, about the size of a tank. Ring any bells?"

Simon grits his teeth, seething. She shouldn't even be here, shouldn't know where he lives. She sure as fuck shouldn't be the one giving you his bloody name, dammit! This is bad, her turning up like this. She's tracked him down for some reason, and it doesn't bode well for him or you.

He sees you tense up at her condescending tone and knows that doesn't bode well, either. "And you are...?" you bite back.

This encounter is about to go south, quick. You're not about to take any guff, but Peach is conniving and, worse, she's dangerous. As much as he wants to avoid her, he has to intervene.

"Peach," he murmurs, drawing her attention away from you. His stomach churns, his breakfast threatening to come back up.

Her smile goes wide as she removes her shades and hangs them on the neckline of her tank top. "Long time, no see, Ghost man."

Simon inwardly cringes. Peach doesn't know Simon Riley. She only knows Ghost, the skull-faced demon of the SAS. She's here looking for that man. She wants to reunite with the hard-nosed lieutenant who took her under his wing and taught her the skills to become a trained killer. She's looking for her mentor, her hero.

Her creator.

"Bloody hell," he breathes, stepping forward.

You shuffle out of the way, looking between them, but startle when Peach suddenly throws herself at him. He doesn't expect it, either, swaying with the impact as she collides with him. His first instinct is to push her off—she makes his skin crawl, but he can feel the desperation in her clutching embrace, can now see the madness teeming in her eyes. He goes very still, not taking his eyes or hands off of her.

Peach laughs, the sound shrill and manic, tightening her limbs around him like a constricting python. "Did ya miss me?"

Yeah, like a fuckin' toothache, his mind snarls, but he holds his tongue. Petty insults won't gain him anything. He needs to find out what she's doing there and how she found him.

Simon feigns amusement at her deranged behavior and sets her down, holding her at arm's length. He pretends he's chuffed to see her to keep her calm, get her talking. "Whad'ya doin' in the UK? Heard ya cycled out an' turned civvie."

She shrugs then nods. "I did. I work in private security now; I get paid to babysit a Hollywood starlet. Had to fly over for some movie premier she's starring in, so decided to give Soap a call. Had to laugh when he told me where you had moved." She wrinkles her nose, points her finger, looking sly and crafty. "But don't get pissed and beat the shit out of him for tellin' me. He knew you'd want to see me."

That's a crock o' bullshit. Johnny knows how Simon feels about her; he's made no secret of it. She's managed to dupe the big eejit, somehow, probably stole his intel straight from Johnny's cell phone.

Simon shakes his head and grunts. "Still shoulda kept his gob shut," he mutters, but he keeps his anger on a tight leash. He can't afford to set Peach off, not with you standing so close.

But, dammit, he's pissed. He'd warned Johnny about her when he learned the sergeant was still in contact with her. He'll be having a few words with Johnny once this cock-up has been dealt with.

Simon becomes aware of you watching them, and his gut drops. From the corner of his eye, he can see that you're struggling, trying and failing to hide your hurt and confusion. Yet he doesn't even look in your direction. He can't; he won't. It's too dangerous.

It galvanizes him, thinking about what Peach might do to you if she realizes he has feelings for you. He has to protect you, even if it means breaking your heart in the process. He won't risk Peach going into a jealous rage and attacking you. Christ, he needs to get you away from her, somehow.

Then, you present him with a golden opportunity, as if you had just read his mind.

"Um, sorry to interrupt, but I've got to get to work."

Peach turns her attention to you, and Simon can feel his hackles rise. There's a sadistic gleam in her eye, her grin saccharin sweet.

"Is this the live-in housekeeper Soap was tellin' me about?" She grabs your hand, and Simon flinches, his heart racing. "Deedee, right? Don't mind me and Si. We go way back." Her expression turns sly, her grin wicked. "We used to sleep together, didn't we, big guy?"

You blanch at her words, and Simon wants to throttle her. First, she's calling you his bloody housekeeper and next she's insinuating that load of bollocks? But, truly, it shouldn't surprise him. This is classic Peach.

She's loves playing her fucking head games, which is what she's doing now with the both of you. She's fishing for reactions to suss out your relationship, throwing her half-truths out like bait, waiting for a bite.

Yeah, he slept with her—for warmth in freezing safe houses, from exhaustion during long transports, but it was never sexual. The conniving bitch is making her play with a false claim, daring him to deny it, because it will confirm her suspicions, that he cares about you and what you think of him.

"Fuckin' hell, Peach," he growls, pretending to be only mildly annoyed, but he doesn't call her out on her bullshit nor does he look your way to gauge your reaction. He keeps his focus on her and pretends indifference.

"What?" she giggles, staring him dead in the eye, still prodding, still testing him. "We did sleep together. And I still miss my big teddy bear keepin' me warm at night," she coos at him, pushing him, but he doesn't break, doesn't react.

Getting nothing from him, she sets her sights back on you again, and Simon's gut tightens. Peach laughs at your stunned expression, no doubt savoring the moment.

"We actually used to work together," she tells you. "Believe it or not, this big lug here trained me to be a pretty decent sniper." She nudges him and grins, and Simon's hand twitches with the urge to choke her out. "When we weren't cuddling under the blankets, that is."

She's toying with you. He's convinced her there's no feelings for you on his end, so she's rubbing your nose in it now. She's like a mean girl torturing a wallflower with her crush. She's as petty and cruel as she ever was.

"Oh... I see," you murmur softly, and the defeat in your tone makes him want to howl in fury at his own impotence.

He can barely look at you, guilt consuming him. "Gotta go up an' shut down my PC, then I'll take ya t'work."

You glance up at him, and the betrayal burning in your eyes nearly brings Simon to his knees. He waffles for a split second, but he knows Peach is watching, observing every little tic and muscle twitch, looking for the slightest change in nuance of his expression. So, he does the only thing he can do, he gives you back a blank stare and turns away.

Then Peach says something that makes his scalp prickle in warning.

"No worries, big guy. Let me take her. My rental's right out front." The way she looks at you, Simon knows she's not done playing with you yet. She wants to see you squirm. "Your work's not far, is it?"

You look so bloody helpless, caught in her snare as you shake your head. "No. I work at the pub by the green. The White Dog."

"Yeah, saw it on my way in." Peach whacks Simon's arm, and he bites back a growl. "Hell, I'll be there and back before you even get your boots on, stud." She throws her arm around your shoulders, and he fights the urge to rip it off. "C'mon, cutie. Grab your shit and let's go."

Simon tries to act unaffected, that he simply doesn't want to put her out. "No, wait. I'll take—"

"Ah, stow it, big guy. We're already out the door," she calls over her shoulder, hustling you outside, eager to get you alone.

His only solace is knowing that, for now, she won't harm you. She'll pump you for intel, rub more of her verbal salt in your wounded ego, then she'll let you go. You're no threat to her, you see, you're just a plaything, a punching bag.

He sees you glance back at him as he watches from the open doorway. He scowls, frustrated, but doesn't stop Peach when she herds you into her rental. It kills to watch you leave with her.

But it's the look of disappointment on your face that breaks him.

>>>>>>>>>>

Pushing down the urge to follow you, Simon takes advantage of the few free minutes he has before Peach returns and starts making phone calls. He'll need help dealing with her if he wants to avoid bloodshed.

His first call is to Price. The Captain knows Peach and what she's capable of. He knows Simon's history with her, firsthand.

Peach had been assigned to Ghost for stealth and sniper training when the 141 was still working with Shadows. She was excited, eager to work with the mysterious Ghost. She called him a legend, told him she had idolized him since first hearing about his exploits from the other Shadow operatives.

Even then, she knew how to stroke an ego.

While training, Peach was allowed to assist on a few missions with the 141. She got to witness what Ghost could do when things went sideways. She saw what he was capable of when backed into a corner and fighting for his life.

And she'd loved it. Reveled in it. Worshipped him for it.

Her devotion to him turned fanatical. No one spoke ill of Ghost in her presence, otherwise they found themselves pinned against a wall with a knife at their throat or flat on their back with her boot on their neck. Reprimands didn't phase her, since Graves always let her slide. She was too much of an asset to his team.

Peach became infatuated with Ghost, was always looking for ways to please and impress him. That is what ultimately led to her downfall. She became reckless on missions, ignoring directives on the battlefield, taking unnecessary risks. It not only caused disruption during the mission, it also endangered herself and her team.

Laswell was the first to bring it up during evaluations, but it was Price who strongly suggested to Graves that Peach be re-assigned. Ghost was too much of a distraction for her, she became too volitale when they worked together. It was best to separate them, was Price's advice. Laswell backed him up.

Of course, Graves didn't like that idea much, not after all the time, money and effort he'd spent on her training, but even he couldn't deny that Peach had become a loose cannon, a liability. All three of them agreed, she had to go.

Peach soon found herself re-assigned to another team back in the States. Ghost avoided her until she was shipped out, and Price made sure she was never brought in to work with the 141 again.

Ghost cut off all contact. He thought by removing himself from the equation that it would end her obsession with him. He came to realize that they were bad for each other, fed the other's darkness, and Peach had become addicted to that, to him.

He told her as much during their one and only phone conversation that she had instigated, stressing that they would be better off apart—permanently. Then he'd encouraged her to seek out professional help and rang off.

Ghost assumed that would be the end of it, but he should have known better. Peach might have been forced to retreat, but she was never the type to surrender.

>>>>>>>>>>

Peach is ebullient when she returns. Thank God Ollie had already confirmed that you had reached work safely or Simon would have assumed the worst.

Ollie was none too pleased with the state you were in, though. With little time to explain, Simon simply asked that he keep an eye on you and not interfere. Ollie made a disgruntled noise and agreed, but demanded a sitrep ASAP.

For now, Simon has a part to play. He has to keep Peach occupied until Price can come through with more intel and a plan to safely neutralize her without harming her. It's obvious the lass is broken and in need of professional help, and Simon is not so cold-hearted that he can't empathize. He's been there himself, after all.

However, Simon won't hesitate to snap her neck, shared history or not, if Peach makes any sort of threat to physically harm you. His empathy only goes so far, and Peach is already testing his patience.

The woman won't keep her hands off of him. She's constantly in his space, in his face, running her spidery hands all over him while chattering on with her insane nonsense. She told him that she fancies them as soulmates—twin flames or some such bollocks.

She's already tried several times to get in his pants, but that's where Simon has to draw the line. He's not crawling into bed with her, no matter what her delusions have led her to believe. That part of him, she can not have. That belonged to you—or it would belong to you as soon as he could make it happen. He's done mucking about. As soon as this is over, he's staking his claim. Your his, he's yours, and that's all there is to it.

Peach is determined though. She wants to solidify their imagined bond, and he can see she's getting frustrated with his avoidance. If he continues to reject her advances, things could get ugly.

Price advised him to go along with her delusions to keep her calm, but no way in hell is he fucking her. So Simon sets out to distract her with a different form of intimate contact: sparring.

They fight in the back garden under the sweltering August sun until they're both drenched in sweat and panting for breath. Peach is exhausted but grinning, having enjoyed the close contact. She follows him back inside, docile as a lamb, when he calls for a water break.

It's too bloody hot in the house, even with all the fans going. Simon chugs down his water in three big gulps, then goes back for another.

"Dunno how you Brits live without A/C," Peach fusses, leaning into one of the fans. "We should grab a shower then go get something to eat. Preferably in an air conditioned restaurant. Whad'ya say, big guy? My treat," she cajoles.

Simon jumps at the idea. Getting her out in a public setting would keep her in check, at least. Actually, the longer they stay out and about, the better. An idea pops into his head.

"We could go tuh Blackheath. Plenty uh restaurants there. Plenty o' shops, too," he adds, casting his lure. He knows Peach is a shopoholic. The bird could spend an entire day in a shopping mall.

Her eyes lit up with glee. "Ooh, that could be fun." Her smirk turns salacious. "Do ya know if there's a lingerie shop? You could help me pick out something special to wear for you tonight," she purrs.

Simon tries to appear intrigued, but it's a struggle. Thank Christ for his face mask. "Uh... yeah, there's a few shops that sell it. We could check 'em out after we eat."

"Excellent idea," she drawls. A sly look comes over her face before she can mask it with an innocent expression. "You should probably call Deedee, let her know our plans, in case we're late gettin' back. You still pick her up every day after work, right?"

Her words make Simon's insides curdle. Peach wouldn't know that unless she'd been watching them, keeping tabs on their movements, their routines. That means she's been planning this supposed impromptu visit of hers for awhile.

Christ, how long has she been watching us?

"Yeah," he croaks, his gut twisting. "Guess I should call 'er."

Simon's not sure if he can keep this charade up if he has to talk to you. He slumps down on one of bar chairs at the kitchen island and makes the call, his body wound up tighter than a piano wire as he waits for you to answer.

Peach sidles up beside him as he listens to your voicemail recording start. She gives him a wicked grin as she starts pawing at him, fucking with him. Batting her hands away, he hears the beep prompting him to leave his message.

Holding the phone away, he growls, "Get off me, ya muppet. 'M try'na leave Dee a message."

Peach giggles, a mean little twist on her lips. "Tell her I wore ya out this morning, so I'm takin' ya out to feed ya. Gotta rebuild your strength for round two later."

Yeah. Keep dreamin', ya crazy bitch, Simon thinks, huffing a laugh. "Shuddup..." he scoffs, shifting away from her, then presses the phone closer to his ear.

"Oi, Dee. 'Me an' Peach 'r goin' out f'lunch in Blackheath. She's wantin' t'check out some uh the shops, too, so we'll prob'ly be there all bloody afternoon. Should be back in time tuh pick ya up after work, though."

He glances up to see Peach staring at him, looking miffed. 'Play along... Keep her calm...' Price's voice echoes in his mind. Simon grits his teeth, then adds, "Oh, an' Peach is gonna spend the night. Thought I'd warn ya. Later."

He ends the call, a sick feeling souring his stomach.

But Peach? Hell, she's bloody ecstatic.

-

prev. << | >> next

[holylulusworld]

Flowers (5) - Honeysuckle

Summary: Honeysuckle flowers represent true happiness, romantic love, good fortune, and sweetness towards one another.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angry Bucky, fluff, love confessions

Flowers (4) - Daisy

Flowers masterlist

For the next few days, you barely left your apartment. Bucky and you spent the time talking about all the things you never dared to bring up.

Your relationship, his feelings for you, and the woman almost ruining your relationship. Dolores. 

At first, you wanted to go ballistic and beat the shit out of that woman. Bucky had to hold you back and calm you. He promised over and over again that Dolores didn’t stand a chance.

You are the only woman he wants, and the one he needs. He confessed his love and sniffled when you confessed your feelings for him.

One week later you finally leave the apartment to grab a few things for your upcoming trip to your uncle’s cabin. You want to get out of the tower for a while to spend some well-needed alone time with Bucky.

“You look pretty today, doll,” he complimented while holding your hand in his gloved one. “I mean…uh—you always look pretty. But today, you glow.”

“Aw, someone wants to get laid,” you giggled and pecked his cheek. “I thought last night was enough to tame the python in your pants, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You know how I get when you are close,” he smirked. “I lose all control and need to get my hands on you, doll.”

“You’re insatiable,” you retorted, but mirrored his smirk. “Maybe after our shopping trip. We will take my car today.”

“No bike,” he sighed and looked at the list in your hands. “I bet I can store everything on my bike.”

“I bet you’ll lose half of the things we will need, and there is no space left for me,” you pointed out, sticking your tongue out.

“Fine, no bike today.”

“We should go to Maria first. I want to tell her that she can pair me up with you for missions again. And,” you cleared your throat, “to make sure she knows that we won’t work with that red-haired bitch.”

“Did I hear my name?” Natasha poked her head around the corner, one brow furrowed.

“Nope,” you grinned at the redhead. “There is only one red-haired bitch I hate. And that’s not you.”

She winked at you and chuckled. “So, you’re good? No more fighting or rom-com drama?” 

“Shut up,” you grinned at her. “We had the best reunion sex ever.” You narrowed your eyes the moment Dot stepped out of one of the offices. “We almost broke the bed, the couch, and the shower.”

“Do you want me to hate you?” Natasha sighed deeply. It’s been too long since she had animalistic and crazy sex. “You win. I’m jealous.”

“Sergeant Barnes,” Dolores cooed, acting like she didn’t lie to you to steal your boyfriend. “How have you been? We have missed you during training.”

“He had better things to do than listening to your lies,” you bit back, and gritted your teeth. 

She chuckled, still believing there was a chance Bucky would leave you for good and find solace in her arms. “I asked Sergeant Barnes, not you.”

“Careful,” Bucky’s features darkened, and her disrespectful tone. “You caused enough trouble. Don’t believe for one second I will forget that you lied to me.”

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about, Sergeant,” she tried to smile her way out of the situation. 

“I’m not the man I used to be,” Bucky let go of your hand for a moment to tower over Dolores. She shrank into herself. No one faces the former Winter Soldier and doesn’t pee their pants. “But don’t think for one second that I will let you get in between me and my girlfriend. Get it in your head,” he pointed his index finger at Dolores, “I only love her.”

He slung one arm around your shoulders and guided you away from Dolores and her boring looks. “Buck, I think you made her pee her pants.”

“Good.” He said. “She deserves that much and more.”

“What is that?” You pointed at the cat Bucky carried in his jacket. He wanted to grab more things for your trip, only to bring nothing but a small white furball home. “Bucky?”

“That punk kinda followed me,” he sheepishly said. “It began to snow, and I had to stop my bike. I got off my bike, to wait for the snowfall to stop and then,” he looked at the cat poking its head out of his jacket, “I heard this guy meow loudly.”

“Where did you find him?” You pat the cat’s head. “Bucky?” You looked him in the eyes. “You didn’t steal the cat, right?”

“What? No! Someone locked him in a box and threw it in a dumpster. I fished the box out and freed him,” Bucky pleadingly looked at you. “Can we keep him?”

You looked at the cat, and then at your smiling boyfriend, already knowing the answer. 

“Do you already have a name for him?” You laughed as Bucky nodded eagerly. “How’d you name the poor cat? I hope it’s not snowball.”

“Alpine,” he said while patting the cat’s head. “He’s a fighter. A survivor and…he’s white.” Bucky wouldn’t stop smiling. He allowed you to carefully take the cat out of his jacket but followed you hot on your heels to keep an eye on Alpine.

“We will need cat food, and toys, a bed, a toilet,” you hummed to yourself. “Maybe we can cancel the trip? We need to take care of him first.”

“You sure?” Bucky asked while watching you play with the cat on your shared bed. “I guess there is a new man in town, huh?”

“We should order all the things we will need for Alpine online.” You watched the cat curl into a ball on the bed. He was still shivering, but he meowed happily when Bucky sat down on the bed. 

“Hey punk,” Bucky patted the cat’s head, but his eyes were glued to you moving closer to sit next to him. “How do you feel?”

“We can ask a vet to check on him,” you put your hand on Bucky’s lightly squeezing it. “I guess we now have a kid, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Maybe we can work on putting on into you too?” He smirked at your shocked expression. “Or at least try? I like trying…”

The End...

Tags in reblog.

[manicpixiefelix]

at the other end of the leash

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

@vannyangelxoxo asked: can you write Felix beating someone’s ass for reader? Summary: You convince Felix to go with you to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in one of the last weeks of Summer before you begin your first year at Oxford University. While out on the town during the Festival, Felix finds himself enchanted with one of the performers, an avant-guarde acrobat named Magnus. The perfect night quickly goes south, however, as Felix discovers someone trying to take advantage of you, and he immediately steps in. Of course.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. Set at the end of Summer before Felix and Reader start their first year of university at Oxford. Established Bi Felix.

Warnings: heavy themes; reader is slipped a roofie at a club and a stranger attempts to take them home, and it's heavily implied that he plans to assault them. felix gets there in time, which leads to the second warning of VIOLENCE. felix beats that motherfucker to a bloody mess. it doesn't get super gorey/explicit but there is a lot of blood. also there is discussions of nudity, non explicit sex, and recreational drug use in the club.

A/N: 6053 words. well, would you look at that. another request that got outrageously out of hand. this is also a personal homage to Edinbugh Fringe Festival, my beloved, my home for 6 weeks of the year. id also like to state that it's a wonderful place to be; the roofie plot is 100% fictionalised. the rest of it is a pastiche of real things that i have actually experienced. i cannot stress enough the raw animal attraction of a man named magnus who can and will flirt with anyone and everyone while getting drinks after his shows, who performs several times a week with his dick out, wearing eyeliner, heavily tattooed, who smokes and has pretty eyes. that's all i have to say about that.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

"Come on Fi, it's the last weeks of Summer before we start uni," you'd been rather desperately imploring, as if Felix had ever known how to refuse you when you actually wanted something, "you know Monty Python started there before they were even Monty Python," you told him knowingly, which was certainly interesting, though not particularly relevant. Finally you sighed, splaying yourself out over the sofa you'd been sitting, looking up at him from as he entered the room. Now you were spread out foolishly, childishly, looking up at him with imploring eyes, "Fi we've spent a month lazing around the house and I know your parents have no other events planned before we go back, except for the party on the second last night; we'll be back before then, I promise! I want to spend time watching strange show, meeting people I'd never imagine, and drinking cocktails named after famous poets from rustic bars!"

It had been your suggestion to go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for a few days, and despite the exhaustingly long train ride and the hotel prices that would probably cripple anyone less well off than you - Felix had agreed. Of course he'd agreed; you sounded so hopeful.

Which is how you'd found yourself in an underground club on a Friday night, dancefloor packed with more bodies than sense, and a twenty minute line for drinks. Tonight he'd been feeling especially bold, forgoing a jacket altogether, spending time in the mirror with you before heading out to see the show you'd chosen for the evening - a compelling one-man show about being gay in Australia, in a less compelling, cramped venue. So now here he was, in one of his more fetching dark, silk, button-down t-shirts, eyeliner on his waterline, mascara even though he claimed to not need it, a touch of glitter by his temples, and his favourite brown lipstick that he'd agonised over.

Not long after you'd come out, you'd tried wearing eyeliner with the male, private school uniform - I can- I should be allowed to do whatever I want, right? - and the minute after Felix had gotten out of suspension for smacking a kid who called you a slur, he went out and bought his own eyeliner. His collection had only grown from there. It really was a shame that people seemed to think it was reserved for femininity. Well, as it turned out, people who weren't part of things like Fringe Festivals.

Felix fit right in tonight.

It's a little thrilling; these people, in neon underwear and wigs and makeup that would forever outshine his own efforts, they look at him differently. Drugs passed around him - oh darling, would you like some? But once he'd ask what they were and the kind soul goes to check, they're pulled away by some other shiny thing to focus on. Always too close, tits out with nipple pasties being sweated off, he's sure he saw someone's dick out on the dance floor, the most beautiful, feminine, sculpted faces on the hairiest male bodies sporting only a gold speedo. Confusing and foreign and everyone smiling at him.

Felix wasn't quite sure where you'd gotten too, especially not since he'd found himself caught in the blue-eyed gaze of a stocky punk with a face tattoo and carefully loose hair pulled back into a low bun. Nose piercings and ears with stretched holes that Felix could see all the way through, black silicone bordering the void almost like it was intended to match the black makeup around his eyes, though it looks worn, half sweated through. Still, Felix can't help but be enchanted by the way it made his blue eyes peak so brightly through. Felix didn't think he had much of a type when it came to guys, but he'd always found something very charming about dark hair and blue, mischievous eyes.

"Magnus," he'd introduced himself as with much confidence and yelling over the music, and when Felix introduced himself, asked if he was here for the festival, Magnus smiles wider. Felix thinks very distinctly of biting. "Actually here blowing off steam after a show," a performer then, "part of an avant guarde acrobatics troupe," a very flexible performer.

"How... long have you been doing that?"

"About three years now," Magnus squints into the distance as he tried to recall, "since I was nineteen."

"Oh," Felix brightens up, adding without thinking, "I'm nineteen." And immediately hangs his head with embarrassment. Thankfully, instead of calling him a kid - despite only being twenty-two; everyone in their twenties seemed to like calling him a baby, even if they'd turned twenty yesterday - and laughs.

"Oh thank god," he claps Felix on the shoulder, "because I was definitely going to ask."

"It's a pub," Felix points out, as if no-one underage has ever snuck into a pub ever. Magnus gives him a sidelong smile.

"With no security in sight, mate," he snorted. Felix had noticed that drugs were being passed around like candy, but he hadn't really considered it beyond that. Magnus, however, points to a couple that have been grinding on each other on a bar stool several feet away, "he's been fucking her like that for the past fifteen minutes." Felix's brows shot up.

"Really?!" He gasped; Magnus grinned like the Cheshire cat, mentioning in a far too offhand way that they were also friends of his, "should we move?"

"It's the furthest you're going to be from some kind of sex act unless you want to go outside," he gave a loud, pleased sigh at the environment, seeming entirely at home. Felix is struck with the immediate and vivid image of Magnus in his beautiful leather jacket pressing him up against this very wall, hand slipping beneath the waistband of Felix's pants; the freedom of everyone seeing and nobody caring and -

"What's avant guarde about it-" Felix clears his throat awkwardly, "the acrobatics, I mean, if I may ask?" Felix tries to remain polite while he knows he's blushing all over. All he hopes is that this man beside him that he's just met can't tell how loudly he's thinking holy shit have I met someone who could throw me around the room with ease? Is that something I want? He's never really thought about it before -

"You ever seen three people stand on each other's shoulders all at once in the full monty?" As if that's a real question Felix is supposed to have a real answer to, but Magnus stood just a little taller, just a little prouder, "I'm the lad at the bottom, holding us all secure, cock out for the world to see." What a fucking mental image.

Magnus also informs Felix that the tattoo on his face, the delicate dagger, has its match somewhere else on his body. It's with a staggering amount of confidence that immediately flusters Felix that Magnus tells him he can either buy a ticket to the show, or buy him a drink if he'd like to see it. He's pretty sure he's never been so directly and effectively hit on before in his entire life. Yes, counting the trips you, he, Farleigh, and Venetia took to France that Summer in high school.

Standing in line, thinking about beautiful, punk, acrobat Magnus and what Felix can only assume is his tattooed cock, it takes him a long while to realise that he's nearing the bar and has been staring at some guy's drinks for a full minute. Something colourful and fizzing, something with vodka he's pretty sure. It takes another moment to register something falling into one of the drinks from between the man's fingers as he goes to take them away -

"Hey!" It could have been an accident, it could have been nothing, but Felix wouldn't be able to forgive himself if it wasn't, "dude, hey!" He tries to snatch at the guy's denim jacket, but he slips into the crowd. Trying to jam himself up to the bar, despite everyone else's annoyance, he tries to tell the bartender, but the man's already disappeared too far.

Vaguely distressed, but mostly dejected, he steps back to his place, and waiting another few long moments for his turn at the bar. Even as his gaze roams the crowd for the potential bastard, he can't seem to see him. But he looses track of his thoughts on the matter when he gets back to Magnus, leaning against the wall with half a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and those gorgeous blue eyes drinking in Felix as he approaches.

"Was almost worried I'd lost you there," he slings an arm around Felix's waist, drawing him in close, accepting the drink with a grin, and all Felix can think about is how warm he is, how he smells sweet and like rich herbs and smoke. He asks what Felix does, and Felix tries his very best not to sound as young as he suddenly feels -

"Remains to be seen," he leans into speak into Magnus's ear, musting the confidence he knows he usually has in spades, wrapping his own arm around Magnus's shoulders, "about to start at Oxford in a few days -"

"Oxford!" Felix isn't sure if Magnus is teasing him or not. He's also not sure that he minds, he kind of wants the man to keep looking at him- keep smiling at him like that.

He's so enraptured by the company he's found for himself that it almost startles him when you come stumbling out of the crowd, off of the dance floor, beaming and sweating, holding a half-finished drink.

"Fi, there you are- oh my, hi, hello!" You're already giving Magnus a million watt smile, clearly quite drunk. Felix catches you with his free hand, having finished his own drink not too long ago.

"Hello, sweetheart," Magnus greets you warmly, but with an unmistakable hint of reservation, gaze momentarily flicking between yourself and Felix, trying to reassess the situation in the blink of an eye. You don't seem to notice that, however, simply standing a little taller, subtly preening at the pet name.

"Y/N is my best mate," Felix leans in close to Magnus to explain, voice fond in his ear, "the reason I'm here at all." And there's that smile again, all warm and amused and Magnus' eyes shining in a way that makes Felix want to let him do terrible, unspeakable things to him.

"Lucky for us both then, that you have such a darling friend."

Performers are a different fucking breed of people, Felix can't help but think to himself, even as Magnus turns - arm never leaving it's place around Felix - to properly introduce himself to you. He thinks it again watching Magnus charm you just as easily, even if he wasn't trying to outright hit on you the way he had been with Felix.

"I was just- I was just-" you stumble over your words, taking another sip of your drink - something colourful and fizzing, vodka something, you'd said with an offhand frown, a lovely guy I've been dancing with bought it for me - while you take Magnus' offered free hand to steady yourself, "I was thinking of heading back to the hotel pretty shortly, I'm a bit -" you make a vague hand gesture. Before you can even finish the sentiment, however, the next song begins and you light up. Finishing your drink, you grab Felix's free hand with your own, tugging them both towards the dance floor, begging them for one dance.

"How could I say no to a face like that?" Magnus teases, letting himself be dragged onto the dancefloor, Felix adding with a fond smile.

"Trust me, I wouldn't know."

Glad for the company, you gleefully let loose amongst the crush of bodies, and there's something both endearing, and endlessly attractive, about how happy Magnus seems to match your energy. The three of you jumping around to The Sex Pistols, Magnus shouting along with all of the lyrics and seemingly impressed that you and Felix at the very least seem to know some of them.

After the song, however, you seem to slip back into the crowd on the dancefloor, as if once more transfixed by the lights and movement and heat of the night. Magnus, however, leans in and asks if Felix smokes.

Outside it's far easier to breathe. It's cooler too. Still, Magnus pulls off his leather jacket, ties it around his hips, leaving him in a tight, white t-shirt. Felix has known in a roundabout way that he wasn't straight for quite some time, but damn did reminders like this not feel like being hit by a truck. Covered in tattoos and with the kind of arms and shoulders the Greeks could model statues of gods from, Felix knows he's staring but quite literally does not know how to stop.

Except then Magnus is pulling out an actual, metal cigarette deck, offering it to Felix for him to take one, and Felix is pretty sure this is the coolest person he's ever met in his life.

"I love these," Magnus takes Felix's hand in his free one, clicking the cigarette deck closed and sliding it smoothly back into his pocket, "these are cute," he's looking at the silly, little collection of stars tattooed on his hand. They look like nothing compared to the ink all over Magnus, but he seems genuine in his interest.

"Surprise gift for my sister," Felix hears himself say, cigarette between his lips as he fumbles in his pockets for a lighter.

"For your sister?"

"Well it was a surprise to me too," Felix chuckles at the memory, "Y/N and I organised for me and Venetia to get matching tattoos of her choice for her birthday."

"You... didn't know?" Magnus snorts, dropping Felix's hand to take the half-cigarette out from behind his ear, holding it out for Felix to light.

"Well I'm not opposed, I've got a couple of tattoos - nothing like yours," he grins, and Magnus's gaze meets his, flashing with that same amusement and attraction as in the club that had so captivated Felix in the first place, "but I'm kind of surprised that that's what Y/N gifted her?"

"Did your sister not like it?"

"No, that's the thing, I've actually never seen Ven react like that to a gift before," Felix muses; smiling at the memory, "of course she was a menace about it at first; I was worried she'd been given too much power," he snorted, tipping his head to look at Magnus, only to see those blue eyes gazing back, as if hanging on Felix's every word, "do you know how close I came to having a tramp stamp?"

"As if you wouldn't look fantastic with a tramp stamp," Magnus snorted.

However before the story can even be finished, the door to the club opens and both turn at the sound of your voice.

"No, I need some water first -" you sound very wrong. The person beside you, a man who looks vaguely familiar, though Felix is sure it's not his face, is setting almost too brisk of a pace.

"Come on, there's water back at my place, remember?"

"I need to go back to the hotel," you tried to insist, "and water- 'm gonna throw up in the taxi."

"You'll be fine, I promise, I've got you." The man's hailing at taxi, while you're swaying on your feet, looking even more out of it than you had when they'd last seen you.

Felix is moving on instinct, without hesitation, without even thinking.

"The fuck are you doing?" His voice raises, and the man turns right as a taxi is pulling up, looking at Felix with blatant irritation, not appearing to be intimidated in the slightest.

"Back off man, my friend isn't feeling well-" the bastard lies through his teeth, even as you of course recognise Felix, and take his arm, mumbling that you felt sick, "see?" He actually tries to pry you away from Felix, "I'm taking care of them, no need to worry -" but Felix puts his hand on yours, secure. Just as well, since you start to list and lean and lose your balance.

"Fi," you mutter weakly, pitifully, "help."

And that's when Felix realises what he recognises about the man; the jacket that slipped through his fingers at the bar. The man he'd seen dose your drink, as it turned out.

Felix has never seen red in his life the way he has in this moment.

Fury simmers white-hot just beneath his skin, though he keeps himself calm and collected as he gently walks you over to the wall of the club, easing you into a sitting position. All the while the bastard that was with you is berating him, saying you just needed to get somewhere to lie down. Magnus, however, seems to understand what's happening, and sits himself down beside you at the wall, quietly asking one of the many onlooker to go inside and grab some water for you.

"Fine, sit 'em on the filthy fucking pavement in the middle of the city instead of letting them lie down in a bed to sleep it off; you feel good? You feel like a hero for not letting me take my friend home -?"

There is an audible crack when Felix's fist makes impact with the bastard's nose. He knows once his adrenaline wears off it's going to hurt like a motherfucker, but it's worth it. More blood splatters across them both than Felix was anticipating from his wonky uppercut, but he doesn't care. The man half recovers, unsteady, but he gets a hit on Felix's cheeks with a fist full of rings, but he seems almost disorientated. Felix goes for the throat this time, satisfaction being the sound of the man choking on his gurgle of pain.

Felix isn't quite sure what it was that sent the bastard crashing to the ground, but he does know that he's tearing through that man's coat pockets like a feral beast before he finds the bottle of pills like the one he saw fall into your drink.

It's like the entire world stops for this one second.

His knuckles ache, covered in blood that isn't his own, clutching the same roofies that were now coursing through your blood, making you weak and vulnerable and prey to bastards like this. His head spins, fury spitting in his veins, blood singing to tear this man apart. There were on lookers, a gasping crowd, but for some reason no bouncer in sight, no-one stopping this.

And you, sitting against the wall of the pub, tucked up against Magnus who had a protective arm around you and was looking at the man beneath you with something cold in his eyes. His other hand was balancing a glass of water on his leg next to you, for you, but you didn't move, just looked at your hands, helpless. Magnus's cold gaze slides to meet Felix's, and there's something approving in his eyes. He gives the faintest nod.

Felix kind of blacks out after that.

The next thing he remembers is being shoved into a taxi rather frantically, hearing Magnus shout - well get him on his side so he doesn't choke on his blood before the ambulance arrives. You're already in, leaning against the window seat, gazing vacantly out of it. Felix gently touches your shoulder once the door shuts behind him- fuck that seems like a lot of blood? When did that happen? You make a vague hum of acknowledgement, so Felix shuffles over to the middle seat and coaxes you to rest against him.

"Fi?"

"Of course," he cradles you against him.

"Fi," your voice is weak, he can hear you beginning to sniffle. Your words come out awkwardly, slurred terribly, "feels wrong, c'nt.. m've."

"I know, I'm sorry," Felix feels the tears in his own eyes, "you'll be okay, I'm here, you'll be okay." He can't believe he let this happen. The front door opens, and Magnus's voice greets the driver.

"Sorry about the state of them in the back -"

"'s Friday, laddie," the terribly aged, terribly Scottish taxi driver says blithely, "where shall I be takin' yas?"

Magnus looks over the back to you both, expression concerned, but genuine, and asks for the address of your hotel. Felix takes a moment to compose himself, but finally gives it, and the drive commences in silence.

It seems only natural for Magnus to also get out once you've all arrived, easily sliding into step with Felix as they both wrapped one of your arms around their shoulders and helped get you back through the hotel and up to your room.

"Thank you, Magnus," Felix says softly as he fishes the key from his pocket, "I'm so sorry about how the night turned out." Magnus actually laughed at that, and Felix opened the door.

"Felix, if the context weren't so dramatically, disgustingly awful, this would be the most fun night I've had all Fringe." And you all shuffle inside, Felix guiding you all towards the bedroom to lay you down, "nice room by the way," Magnus looks around as he passes through, "who's cock did you have to suck to afford it in the middle of the Fringe?"

"I..." Felix hesitates, "don't know if that's a first meeting kind of question."

"Well played, Oxford boy," Magnus says, but there's no malice behind the nickname, "I have my theories, though." Part of Felix is glad Magnus is there, to help lighten the load, lighten the mood, even a little.

They lay you gently on the bed, and Felix is just glad that you seemed to finally have fully passed out. He can't begin to imagine the horrors that were going on inside your head. Then it's just the two of them. And the built in wardrobe across the room with it's floor to ceiling mirror.

And all that blood on Felix.

"I look the fucking American Psycho," it's fucking horrific! What did he do? Magnus, sitting on the end of the bed with one knee crossed over the other gives an amused smile.

"You actually kind of do."

"It's not good!" Felix approaches the mirror like he's in a damn horror movie, scrubbing at his cheeks with little success, but with a surprising amount of sharp pain, "the fuck did I do? Is this all his?" Magnus, in the mirror, is looking at him curiously, "Magnus, seriously, the fuck did I do?"

"You were fucking beautiful, Felix," Magnus says, sounding almost awed. Felix stopped; there was nothing flirty, nothing about it that wasn't genuine. Wait holy shit, Felix realises, are these fucking butterflies in his chest? Now of all times?

Then, in the next moment, Magnus blinks, clearing his throat loudly, like he hadn't meant to say that. For the first time all night he looks genuinely flustered, dropping his gaze.

"You hospitalised a fucking rapist, is what you did," he said matter-of-factly with a nod - he'd nodded before, it's the last thing Felix really remembers - "proved your point to everyone there finding those fucking pills; that was a good move. I mean, I had to explain what the fuck was happening to our little audience while I was dragging you off him - didn't think you wanted to kill him."

"Thanks," Felix says weakly. Then, softly, looking down at his shaking hands, "should I go to the police?"

"For doing a public service?" Magnus snorts, shaking his head, "no, there's at least a dozen girls who will attest to him acting threatening, and to Y/N's behaviour - who was thankfully taken away by an actual kind friend - and that he admitted in a fit of rage to spiking the drinks. He'll be the one in jail if anything." It's so... easy. So nonchalant.

When Felix asks, confusion, disbelief, innocence in his voice, Magnus just smiles like the easiest thing in the world, and says he's an actor, it's his job.

"You don't have to be doing all of this," Felix covers the room in a few short steps, knowing he'll never have the words to thank this stranger for all he's done tonight.

"Are you kidding me? I'm going to be telling this story for the rest of my life," Magnus grins brightly, and his eyes shine just like that had hours ago, before everything went to hell. He leans in conspiratorially, "you broke his fucking ribs."

"I think I broke more than his ribs," Felix says with a tentatively proud smile. Magnus nodded in absolute agreement. Then, after a moment.

"Have a shower, Felix," he said, "I'm going to go downstairs to the petrol station, see what they have there, and be back in a bit; is it okay with you if I crash on the sofa -?"

"You don't have to do all this, seriously, it's late, please go home," Felix implores, taking Magnus's face in his hands. Magnus, however, looks at him like he's a fool.

"I'm going to make sure you're both okay," he pets Felix's hand on his cheek, smiling so sincerely, "and besides, if I'm down getting stuff, that way you can have a shower and know I'm not using that time to be a creep towards Y/N while you're busy."

After a moment of deliberation, Felix pulls Magnus in to press several kisses to his forehead, calling him an absolute Godsend, while Magnus laughs to hide how flustered it makes him.

The shower is where the adrenaline really starts to wear off and the ache of the fight sets into his muscles and bones. The mirror mists over and the droplets still cling where he wipes his hand over. His knuckles are bruised, as is his face, scratches and split lip and gashes where the rings had punctures his cheek. The makeup and eyeliner that he didn't think to properly remove before his shower probably makes it look a little worse than it is.

There's scratches on his throat, his collar, shallower on his chest where the bastard had tried to get him through his shirt while he was trapped beneath Felix on the ground. Scratches up his arms as the man fought a losing battle.

He takes one of the makeup wipes from the pack and cleans up his face as best he can as the first step. It helps, but not by a lot. Back in the bedroom, once he's dry, he searches his suitcase for pyjamas, getting himself dressed.

In there, there is a long few moments where he watches you sleep, watches the steady rise and fall of your breathing and sees the dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

"Fi, help."

God, he's tearing up at the memory. He should have stopped that cunt at the bar when he'd had the chance, when he first saw it happen. Never in his life has he heard you sound genuinely weak until tonight; his hands shake.

Before he gets you cleaned up, however, he feels like he needs to check... Magnus really didn't have to come back. Yeah, sure, he said he would, but if he got tired, if he needed to call it a night, Felix would not blame him in the slightest. He really was surprisingly lovely, and part of Felix would probably regret not getting his number, but it was understandable -

Magnus is sitting cross-legged in the hall, across from his door, eating a slice of white bread from a grocery bag by his side. In his other hand, he's texting.

"Give us a second, just letting the troupe know I'm fine."

Felix blinks at him. Felix waits. Magnus's thumb works the digits of the Nokia he's focusing on, before he must hit send, satisfied. Then, tucking the phone back into one of the inner pockets of his jacket, he looks up, eyes still that same, bright blue. He looks genuinely pleased to see Felix. Felix, for his part, is genuinely pleased to see him too. Surprised as well, if he was being honest, but pleased.

"You look much better," Magnus comments, and pushes himself to his feet. Bag looped in his arm, Felix sees it's a few basic supplies, bread, maybe some spread, something he can't identify, and something bright red. He offers to pay; Magnus tries to shrug it off, but Felix finally gives a self deprecating smile, gesturing around to the rather luxury hotel room they were in. Magnus gives himself a moment to take it all in again, and finally sighs, smiles, gives in.

He does, however, insist on making them both food.

Grilled cheese; all he could find on short notice since it was getting to the early hours of the morning. Felix watches for a few long moments, the way Magnus moves around the kitchenette with practiced ease, like a man used to these spaces, to life on the road. Felix finds he enjoys just watching Magnus; perhaps this is how people have often felt about him. Magnus doesn't watch him, he feels rather free.

"Do you want to take off your makeup," Felix pipes up just as Magnus reaches for the stove. Magnus freezes, "if you're staying, and being so kind as to make me food, the least I can offer is for you to make yourself comfortable."

"Should have suspected you'd be a good host," Magnus grins over his shoulder, and gently puts the pan down, leaving the stove off for the time being. So Felix directs him to the bathroom and tells him to take all the time he needs, and himself heads to the bedroom. Fishing his wallet from the jeans he'd discarded for the night, he pulls out two fifty pound notes. It's far more than the contents of the grocery bag, but Felix definitely doesn't care. It's so little for how kind he's been.

Opening the bedroom door, however, and he almost runs into Magnus, startling the both of them. Even with the remnants of his makeup still clinging around his eyes, the faintest traces of stubborn eyeliner and mascara, he looks fresh-faced and beautiful. Startled, both by the abruptness, and the fact that he might be even more taken with this man without his makeup on, all Felix can do is hold out the money. Magnus seems to thaw first, chuckles, shakes his head, and calls Felix incredibly generous. Unsurprisingly, Felix insists that it's not generous, it's simply fair compensation for his kindness.

After a moment, Magnus peers around Felix, asking how you were. Felix finally relaxes, assures him that for now you're fine. Magnus's expression is understanding, but still very knowing, as his gaze flicks between Felix and you.

"You take care of them, I'll take care of food," he insists gently. Before Felix can even ask how Magnus knew what that he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable, Magnus pats his chest fondly, "you beat a man half to death for them, I assume you want them to sleep in comfort."

Yeah. Fair. Good assessment of the night, and of Felix.

So Felix smiles, thanks him, and trusts him in the kitchen.

Felix treats you with such reverence in these moments, wiping off your makeup with such care, changing you into your pyjamas while he made sure there were no bruises, no scratches, no sign of this bastard anywhere on you. But no, thankfully not. He could have killed that bastard. Sounds like he almost did.

You frown in your sleep. Felix's heart hurts. But there's nothing more to be done for now.

Magnus is humming softly in the kitchen, a gentle sound amid the comforting sizzle of butter in a pan. Felix watches from the doorway for a long moment, the gentle, neutral expression, the focus on the food, the way he's retied his hair to catch all the hair that had so casually been hanging around his face back at the bar. There's something else different about him, however, and it's not the lack of leather jacket or makeup, it's something Felix can't put his finger on for a good few moments.

"Did you get shorter?"

Magnus stops humming. His gaze slides to Felix out of the corner of his eyes, expression unreadable. Then his gaze drops to the ground, and Felix follows; Magnus is wearing Christmas socks on the cold tiles. After a beat, Felix puts two and two together, and Magnus gives a vaguely sheepish laugh the minute he stalks around the kitchen island to the door. There's a pair of gigantic, black boots sitting primly by the door.

The absurdity of this, on top of everything else, finally has Felix laughing, collapsing against the kitchen island, face in his hands, as Magnus cackles quietly by the stove.

"What even is this night?" Felix groans through his fingers.

"One to remember," Magnus responds sagely as he served the first of the grilled cheeses onto a waiting plate, "the good parts, at least, and the good in the bad," immediately he puts another blob of butter in the pan, "and when you look back, you won't see the rage or the fear," he puts the second set of bread and cheese in the pan before picking up the plate with the first, finished dish, "you'll simply recall the love that inspired it all."

"You're so wise," Felix sighs fingers curling down so he could rest his chin on his fists, glad for the man he'd met by chance just a few hours before, "how'd you get so wise doing backflips in your birthday suit, Magnus?" He can feel himself growing tired, finally, as a yawn hits him, "is that something I should try?" Magnus laughs once again, putting the plate of food in front of Felix. He settles across from him, mirroring with his chin on his hand over the kitchen island.

"I take chances on people who intrigue me."

Somehow this terrible night has come full circle; you're comfortable and safe, there's nothing to worry about, and Felix desperately wants to kiss this damn acrobat who's in his hotel room making him grilled cheese at three in the morning.

"Magnus?"

"Yes, Felix," he murmurs back, smiling softly.

"Is that why you're still here, being so... lovely?"

But there's something in Magnus's eyes that dims at the question, just a little. Taking a deep, hesitant breath, his smile turns a touch awkward as he pushes off of the counter to check on the stove. Felix follows him with his eyes, confused, unsure of what he could have said that was wrong.

"I suppose that could be the short answer," Magnus offers, idly. Felix is quiet, crosses his arms on the bench and sinks down to rest his head there, almost childishly, waiting, "don't know if this is a first-meeting discussion either." Magnus finally comes to, though his tone is thankfully lighter.

Silence. Slowly, Felix sits himself back up and starts on the grilled cheese in front of him, quietly thanking Magnus who once again assures him it's no trouble. They sit and eat in silence together; it's not awkward, but Felix is growing more tired with each moment that passes.

"I'm five-seven," Magnus offers without prompting, halfway through the impromptu meal. Felix snorts so hard he starts almost choking on a lump of cheese. Magnus claps him on the back, snickering to himself. Felix, while trying to blink away the way his eyes are watering, peers over to the boots by the door once more, "six inch platforms."

"Fucking hell, how do you walk around in them?" Felix says between thankfully clearing coughs, "you don't perform in them, do you?"

"Fuck no," Magnus grins, "it's not that hard -"

"They'd make me near about seven foot!" Felix crows.

"Maybe next time you can try them on."

Next time.

Even as Magnus spends the next half hour tending to Felix's wounds, advising on how to take care of his muscles, Felix can't stop grinning to himself. Then Magnus says it again, wearing a grin of his own;

"I'm not kidding, I'm going to make sure you're taking care of yourself next time I see you."

"You promise?" Felix wears a wide, goofy grin, clearly giddy at the prospect, enough so that Magnus can't help but finally pull him in for a kiss.

"Promise, Felix."