#THIS JERK OF A MAN WHO SECRETLY HAS A HEART OF GOLD WAS LOOKING FOR APRIL SO THEY COULD EAT CAKE TOGETHER

[dylanconrique]

meredith’s breakdown after she bumps into alex and he asks her about where he can find april always gets to me!!

[slashisms]

Slashers First Time Seeing S/O’s Nipple Piercings

X

Minors DNI.

Michael Myers: Congratulations, you have his undivided attention, which is bad news. You should have locked your bedroom door. He would have barged in anyway and you would’ve had to buy another lock, but you could’ve delayed the discovery of his new favorite toy. You wouldn’t escape him for hours that night. Make your bras scarce or they’re going missing. He’s 100% Free the Nipple, enlightened by the sight of iridescent barbells running through your buds. Hope you like having your boobs pinched and twisted by his rough, massive hands. You complain that they’re sensitive, but he enjoys the noise you make because of it. It’s also his new favorite place to cum, don’t bother trying to stop him. Just stop protesting, it turns him on. He starts to steal jewelry from high end stores because you’re obviously concerned about metal quality of jewelry coming from Michael, who is frequently a dirty, bloody mess. You look up the engraving on a pair and the comma in the price tag seems like compensation enough.

Jason Vorhees: Absolutely scandalized. He didn’t even know people could put jewelry there! Practically faints when you describe the process. You let them stab you with a needle twice? Why?! The only one you’ll have to encourage to look at you. He’s suspiciously scarce whenever you’re undressing, so you may have ambushed him. You push your chest into his view and say, “Because they’re pretty!” He glances down at the gold jewel encrusted hearts encasing your nipples and helplessly agrees. He will not touch them, much too afraid to hurt you. Secretly loves when you play with them, especially while riding him. Confront him on his not-so covert glances (It’s adorable how he can’t manage to peek even with a mask.) and he’ll go missing, sometimes for days and come back covered in blood.

Bo Sinclair: He’s speechless, but not for long. It’s a sweltering day and you refused to be anywhere near a bra or put on more than a flimsy tank top. The sight of you bouncing down the steps, breasts swaying and encircled in two hoops had him trailing off mid greeting, eyes darting to your chest and face like he couldn’t believe his eyes. He never would have expected that type of piercing on someone like you, so sweet and shy. Because he’s a bastard, it doesn’t take long for him to start in on the sex shaming. You roll your eyes and make an offhand comment that if he ever wanted to see you with your top off, he better shut up. It’s almost funny, how quickly he not-quite apologizes. Unfortunately for many dead feminists, he seduces you into fucking on the table where you’re much more amenable to his filthy drawl when he’s got your legs on his shoulders, drilling into you mercilessly. If you cum when he calls you his “dirty fucking whore,” that’s no one’s business, but your own.

Brahms Heelshire: Let’s be honest, he saw them long before you knew he existed. He’s spying on you undressing before a shower, because he’s a pervert, but also British (Derogatory) so he’s repressed about it. Nice girls don’t pierce those places, he tries to tell himself. He fails miserably and jerks off furiously, picturing the sparkle of the opal butterflies sculpting your pebbled nipple. When he finally gets to touch you, he’s obsessed, constantly begging you to let him get his mouth on them. He’ll beg you to sit in his lap while he rocks into you, face buried in your chest and lips wrapped around your nipple. His tongue curls greedily over the jewelry, hips pummeling desperately into you until you’re both cumming. Then he insists you cock warm him, unwilling to stop sucking and biting marks into your skin. You will have to pry him off of you because he’ll whine pitifully and ignore your complaints about being sore. He’ll keep his mouth latched onto you for hours if you let him, grinding against you and playing with your clit. The man has a Mommy kink visible from space so if you’re willing to indulge him, he’s a insufferable brat. Good Luck.

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher: Literally fist fighting each other to get to you. [“Move, bitch!” Tiktok]. You watch, amused and a little horrified when they start shoving the other out of the way, trying to get their hands on you first. Your earlier reluctance as you looked over your outfit and the very obvious flower shaped jewelry poking through your crop top was completely unnecessary. The two of them are Peak ‘My girl can wear whatever she wants, I can fight” Energy and are constantly encouraging you to dress more promiscuously. They hadn’t been expecting this though, not with how polite and quiet you were. Despite being shorter, Billy gets to you first due to the vicious punch he delivers to Stu’s kidney. “Babe.” He starts, looking at you before stopping and glaring at your boobs, fingers crawling under your top and caressing the warm metal.

You notice Stu creeping behind you and put a stop to it, hyper aware of their intention to strip you. You regret your stubbornness twenty minutes later when they’re fondling you in public, grinning evilly when a passerby sees them and looks away. They’re fascinated. (And may have been on the fence about killing you before this. Now, you’re way too interesting. Congrats, I guess, you’ve got two killers wrapped around your finger.)

[writingsbychlo]

let it snow | joel dawson

word count; 20,746

summary; the night is made for doing things you probably shouldn’t do, and the mornings are for running away from them. except, for when you’re snowed in, and trapped with your problems for who knows how long.

notes; this is based vaguely on the movie ‘two night stand’, but very loosely, it does not follow much of the idea at all, just the basic outline. you absolutely do not have to have seen the movie to read this.

warnings; smut, reference to unprotected sex, very light (accidental) slut shaming, that’s about it.

It took you a moment to realise that you weren’t in your own bed when you woke up, startling a little as you came to the realisation. Your walls were not painted blue, and you definitely didn’t have a desk that messy pressed up underneath the window. In fact, your bedroom didn’t have a view like that at all, your bedroom window looked straight out into New York city, and the alleyways behind some dodgy fast-food restaurants.

This was a nice view, calmer roads and little houses, fields sprinkled with snow became visible the more you sat up, and you hadn't remembered it snowing this heavily last night. Sure, you’d been rather preoccupied, and okay, maybe it had been snowing a little bit, but this looked excessive. Although, it would explain the deep chill in the air right now.

You were still a little foggy, jumping slightly as hot breath washed over you from behind the bedding pulling as another body shuffled, and you were stiff all over. Then, it hit you. Reckless, a few drinks in with your happily loved up roommate and her boyfriend, who made you feel more and more painfully single every time you saw them, before you’d retreated to your bedroom, tipsy and secretly bitter, and checked some dating websites. A cute guy, some witty jokes, a funny conversation, and then him.

Everywhere, all at once, a quick train ride and some frantic kisses, your clothes being stripped from your body as that same mouth moved lower and lower, sweaty and hot and barely stopping to ask questions before you were waking up now, a little bit panicked and filled with ridiculous regret. Rubbing a hand over your eyes, you forced yourself to roll over, as calmly as you possibly could, to try and take in the sleeping man beside you.

Messy brown hair, the same shade as dark chocolate, your tongue tingling at the thought of the sweet treat as you liked your lips, resisting the urge to reach out and see if the stands were as soft as they looked. His face was half-hidden within the pillow, slumped down into it, but pale skin reflected little brown moles, his hair beginning to speckle with a light tracing of stubble, the tingle of which was now beginning to make itself known again between your thighs. Long eyelashes on closed lids hid his eyes from you, but you had a distinct memory of them, burned into your mind.

Warm pools of amber and gold, swirling browns that glittered in the low light that had taken over, like flickering candles and pools of caramel, a shade of whiskey that you wanted to be drunk on, beautiful and bright from all the times he’d looked at you. He was handsome, you couldn’t deny that, an odd surge of pride rushing through you as you congratulated yourself on at least being able to pick out somebody physically perfect to have a one-night stand with in your self-pitying loath.

The blankets were sitting around his middle, one hand stretched out a little towards your side of the bed, long and veiny fingers, and you remembered a little just why he’d driven you so wild now, those same veins making tracks up his forearms, disappearing just before his biceps. He was toned, but not overly so, the muscles along his chest standing out, a smattering of dark hair between them, and you could finally remember tracing the slight definition of abs with your tongue, before you’d been tracing something else, and your face flushed with heat as you remembered just how much of the man before you you’d seen.

It felt scandalous now, to be sharing abed with a stranger whom you could barely remember, and to know exactly what he looked like naked, or how he sounded while moaning as he came, but to not even know his last name, or to fully remember the address that you were even at. It was dirty, it was filthy, it was wrong. Oh, but it had been so fun, an experience that everybody should have at least once in their life, a naughty little secret, the one night stand you picked up at a bar, or through a friend, someone you’d look back on fondly once you were ten years older, married and settling down, and as you thought about it more, your lips were still flicking up in a smile.

You’d laugh about it one day.

Slipping from the covers, you tried to find your clothes, not wanting to linger any longer, not wanting the awkwardness of having to deal with stunted small-talk and forced politeness as you tried to adjust to the morning alongside him, someone who was still a little fuzzy in your mind, and your clothes were scattered around the room within easy access, a fortunate happening that made you thank whichever god or deity might be watching you right now.

Sipping your jeans back on, you wiggled a little, trying not to make the flooring creak underneath you, and only pausing long rough to put on your socks, shoes held in hand as you adjust your jumper on your body, a hand running through messy hair to tame it. The man shuffled, and you froze, watching as he paused for only a moment, before flipping over and away from the side you’d been sleeping on, a sleepy huff sounding from him, but he was still snoozing heavily, and you let out a little sigh. Your coat was hanging on the rack, and you grabbed that too, anticipating ho grateful you’d be to have it as you battled against the freezing cold that was surrounding you, toes chilling more and more against the concrete, but you didn’t want to wait much longer to leave.

A scrap of paper, a post-it note from the pad in the hall and a pen that barely had any ink left in, but you scribbled down a few quick words, pinning it up to the corkboard beside the door, and nodding to yourself as you deemed it good enough.

‘had a great time last night, thx.’

With a smiley face and a sign on your name to finish it off, you were undoing the catch across the door, the chain rattling slightly as it fell loose, and you winced, waiting to see if you’d woken him again, the studio apartment he resided within offering little in the way of walls and doors to muffle the muted noises of your escape. When you deemed it clear, your hand sealed around the door handle, clicking it open carefully, and pulling the door towards yourself.

So close, the corridor in sight, but the alarm beeped loudly, and you jumped, the computerised voice startling you so violently that your whole body jerked a little, and you went wide-eyed. You closed the door, hoping it would stop, but the beeping only intensified, and your heart raced in your chest.

“Shit!” Your voice was hissed out in a whisper, and you panicked, hearing the man in bed begin to stir a little, and in a last-minute bid to try and reclaim what little dignity you had left, not wanting to be caught sneaking out, you tore the note back down from the pin-board crinkling it slightly and tiptoeing back to the bedroom. Placing your shoes and coat down quietly as the man began to surface, and you tucked yourself back under the covers on the opposite side, pulling them up to your neck and faking a yawn as he pushed himself up with a groan, sleep broken.

He wandered away from you, your eyes diverting from his body a little bit as the covers fell away, and you were grateful to find that at some point he’d pulled his boxers back on, because you weren’t sure you could handle any more embarrassment this morning. The beeping came to a stop, a mechanic voice informing you that the alarm had been rest, and he was rubbing at his face and yawning as he wandered back through.

“False alarm.”  His voice was still raspy, filled with sleep and cracking a little.

“That’s so weird.” He only hummed in acknowledgement of your words, before he was shaking himself down, settling back into the bed and rolling onto his side, away from you as he fell right back into his slumber, and you sat up. “Bummer that it woke us up. I should probably get going anyway. I had fun, though!”

“Thanks, I think.” He was still half-asleep, barely processing your words, you picked at the sheets a little, trying to decide whether or not you were sufficiently polite enough to be able to leave yet.

“It was perfect for.. y’know.. what I needed. So, thanks, Joe.”

“Joel.” He mumbled, your brows furrowing as your legs swung over the edge of the bed, feet hitting the floor, and a loud creak sounded out under your sudden weight on the floorboards.

“What?” He huffed, deciding that sleep clearly wasn’t a luxury he was going to reclaim, and he pushed himself to sit up, pillows popped behind him.

“My name, it’s Joel.”

“What did I say?” Your fingers were doing up your laces, ignoring the burning heat of his gaze on you.

“Joe. My name has a little ‘L’ at the end. Joel.”

“Right, yeah, my bad.” You cringed a little, picking up your coat from the floor, and pulling it up your arms, an amused look on his face as he watched you.

“Did you sleep fully dressed?”

You looked down, shrugging a little and swallowing thickly as this got more and more awkward, and this wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured the morning after your first one night stand going. “I, uh, got cold.”

“Uh-huh.” You patted your hand at your sides, not sure what else to do, and he stretched his arms out, rolling his head from side to side, before looking at you again. “So, do you want to get some breakfast? Or do you normally just take off?”

“Normally?” He paused his stretching, looking up at you, a confused expression flicking across handsome features, and he made a vaguely confused noise, as though he didn’t know what he’d just spoken. “You said ‘normally’. Like, as if I do this so often that I’d have a normal and abnormal version of it.”

“That’s not what I meant. I have no idea how often you do this, I just thou-”

“I told you last night that this was my first time doing this, or even anything remotely like this!” You remembered that part clearly, because you choked a little on your words when telling him, and then he’d laughed breathlessly and kissed you, while pushing you back into his bed, and your face flushed as you remembered the exact moment, graphic detail almost disturbing.

“Yeah, but, c’mon.” You raised your brows at him, hands sitting on your hips as you stared at him, hoping your face portrayed the fact that you absolutely did not know. “(Y/N), c’mon. Do you really expect me to believe that this is your first one night stand, ever?”

“Yes! Because it is!” He stared at you blankly, before shrugging a little, seeming to accept it, but you were still feeling distinctly judged. “The only reason I’m even here is that my roommate and best friend had her boyfriend over, and I was feeling particularly lonely in the holidays, and they were, y’know, about to.. so, I had to do something, an-”

“No, yeah, you were sexiled, or whatever. I remember that. It’s just, surely this isn’t the first time your roommate has wanted to sleep with her boyfriend while you were home, so this can’t be the first time you’ve.. yeah.” He waved his hands, motioning between the two of you, and your arms crossed over your chest, glaring at him.

“I am sensing some distinctly judgy vibes coming from your side of the bed - which is odd, considering what we did took teamwork - and I haven’t even done anything worth judging!”

“There’s no judgy vibes coming from this side of the bed!” He laughed a little, shaking his head incredulously at you, and had your anger not been reaching its peak, you probably would have been a little more embarrassed. “Honestly, I really admire what you did. I wish more girls were that forward.”

“Forward?” You seethed, rolling your eyes at him. “There we go with that ‘slut’ thing again!”

“Wha- what ‘slut thing’? I’m not calling you a slut!” He moved now, standing up himself from the bed and you averted your eyes, letting him scoop up his shirt from the floor and tug it on over his head. “I’m calling you a girl, who went over to a stranger’s house at midnight. If only there was a word for that.”

“You know what, screw you!”

“That was a joke.” You stormed past him, hearing him chase after you with his own laughs as he tried to suppress them. “That was a joke! I’m sorry, bad timing.”

“You invited me here, just remember that!”

“That’s not quite how it happened, but it doesn’t matter.” He was biting at the inside of his cheek to contain his smile, fixing you with an amused gaze. “Look, why don’t we just have some breakfast? I make really good oatmeal, with a little smiley face made out of jam.” He almost had you, your resolve breaking just a little, before he was snickering to himself again. “And it’s not slutty at all.”

“Save your stupid oatmeal, I think I’m just going to take off.” You swung the door open, a bitter smile on your face as you looked back at him. “Thanks for having me, it was just awesome getting to know you. Have a great life, Joe.”

“Okay, cool, well, I’m just going to assume you did it on purpose that time, because I already told you a bunch of times that it’s Joel with an ‘L’.”

“It wasn’t, but don’t worry, you just have a stupid name!”

“Great.” He huffed, no amusement left in him as he stared at you with frustration. “Well, ‘bye! Lovely having sex with you!”

“Wish I could say the same!” You hissed, his jaw dropping a little, before his eyes were narrowing.

“Sounded like you had a pretty good time last night.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear.” You were prideful and mean, and you’d probably feel bad about it later but right now it was the only way you were getting through this disaster of a morning. “Especially when it’s something like ‘Hey, Joel - cool name.’ Like, what is that? Sounds like the first draft of a name!”

“Okay. Fuck you, (Y/N).”

“Fuck you, back!”

It was a weak ending to the argument, but you didn’t care, the door slamming behind you as you stormed away, quick to hold your coat closer to your body as the temperature between the apartment on the halls was radically different, your breath clouding in the air even from within the building, and you located the staircase.

It was only four floors up, the building being rather oddly constructed, only two apartments per floor, and it was unusually quiet behind all of the doors. When you finally reached the main entrance, remembering him coming downstairs to let you in last night, you undid the catch, your shoulder pushing against the fogged up glass as you made to leave, and a confused and slightly pained cry sounded from you as the door refused to budge even an inch.

You tried again, before you were wiping at the glass, to clear the condensation and try and see what the blockage was, but you quickly discovered it wasn’t fog but ice. Moving over to the window beside a door labelled ‘laundry’, you were met with the sight of snow piled up high, almost three feet up to reach the base of the window, and the roads weren’t even visible. You hadn't realised just how heavy the snow had gotten, and how bad the extent of it all was, until now, where you could see the

“Oh, no, no, no.” Panic flooded through your system as you realised just how screwed you were, trapped in a building with no way out, and your phone was dying, and you weren’t even sure whether your roommate would be up in time to come and find you and clear the snow before the battery died. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Pulling up google, you were quick to check the news reports in the area, finding that the snow had increased and come down heavily overnight, it was a city-wide issue, and there was no way that they’d be getting anywhere near where you were for hours, if that. It was still snowing, albeit not as heavily, but they were prioritising inner-city roads and train lines, not little apartment blocks on the edges of cute fields and open space.

Of all the people you could choose to hook up with, you had to pick the person who was living in the most inconvenient location for a snowstorm.

Glancing around, you realised this was it, you were just going to have to hunker down for a few hours, and in all fairness, it could be worse. At least it was clean and smelled pleasant. Settling yourself down against the cool concrete flooring in the edge of the room, you stretched your legs out before yourself, daring to tap the ‘call’ button on your phone, and bringing it to your ear.

You waited, listening to it ring all the way until it went to voicemail, and then again, and again. After three times, and a whole 5% of what little battery life you had left remaining, you gave up on your roommate, knowing that if it were you at home, you’d be snuggled up cosy in your bed and still fast-asleep too. Switching the device off to conserve power, your head fell back, resting on the wall. Most wonderful time of the year, my ass.

“No, it was super fuckin’ weird. Totally fine, and then suddenly everything is a screaming match an-”

You cursed under your breath, the one voice you had wished you wouldn't have to hear again, followed by rhythmic bouncing of footsteps coming down the stairs, and you glanced up, offering a small wave to the person whom you’d hoped never to have to see again, and his brows furrowed, pausing where he was stood.

“I’m gonna’ have to call you back.” Tucking his phone into his pocket, he took the final few stairs slowly, coming to stand before you, and you pushed yourself up from the floor, brushing the dust from your pants. “What are you still doing here?”

“Blizzard. A whole bunch of snow piled up and now the door won’t open.”

He turned back to look at it, adjusting the basket in his arm before placing it down on the floor, and moving over to the door. Your arms crossed over your chest as he did, watching as he pushed the barred handle down, shoulder ramming into the door, and a grunt left him as it refused to move. He tried it again, before rubbing at his arm lightly, and moving away to peer out of the window just like you did, a little shocked at just how much it was, and you rolled your eyes at him. “I told you.”

“I was just trying to help, there was no need to be rude.” He muttered, and you scoffed once again, turning away from him as he picked the basket back up. He wandered away from you, into the laundry room, disappearing from sight, and you sat back down on the floor.

You heard him test the taps, water still coming through them miraculously, the metal and water within not having completely frozen over, and you brought your legs up to your chest, arms crossing over your knees and chin balancing atop them, preparing yourself for a long while of being bored. It was after many clicks and dials, the soft beeping of the machines as they rumbled to life, that you heard him appear once again, dirty Adidas scraping against the floor, before he came to a stop in front of you.

He looked at you for a minute, seeming to analyse whatever thoughts were going through his head, and you raised a single brow at him, prompting him to speak sooner rather than later. “You can come back upstairs, if you want.” You stared at him for a further minute, jaw dropping a little, and he tucked the laundry stock under his arm. “It’s going to be hours until those roads are cleared, even if they do unblock the doorway. You’ll freeze down here, and you haven’t eaten anything. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

He offered his hand, and sliding your palm against his, he pulled you up from your position on the floor, dropping your hand and spinning on his heel to guide you back up to his apartment. It was awkward, to say the least, and you rubbed your hands together to try and warm them back up, the chill in the air beginning to seep into your clothing and cool you to the core.

When the door opened back up, you let out a little groan, wishing you’d suppressed it better but being caught off guard, and you heard the man before you huff a laugh as your eyes scanned over the small space heater that was set up in the corner, warmth radiating from it and spreading across the apartment. Hanging your coat back up on the hooks by the door, you shuffled through the apartment, not too sure what you should be doing now that you’d returned to the scene of the crime from which you’d fled.

You chose to simply follow what Joel was doing, repeating his name like a mantra in your head so that you didn’t mess it up again, and taking a seat at the round table with a few mismatching chairs around it within his kitchen, watching as he clattered about with pots and pans at the stove. You busied yourself with your phone, finding that you at least had a signal, and could access your social media.

Instagram and snapchat were filled with videos and photographs of the snow, taken aesthetically from the windows, roofs and balconies of people who were lucky enough to be in their own homes, curled up with steaming mugs of tea and the loves of their lives to take pictures from behind frosted glass of the winter wonderland that was more like the bane of your existence.

You replied to a few texts, and messaged your friend again to update her, leaving it there for her to read whenever she came back around to consciousness, to tell her that she didn’t need to rush, and that you’d at least found yourself somewhere to keep warm and safe. Your head snapped up when a steaming bowl of oatmeal was paced down before you, smelling delicious with maple syrup and fruit, a spoon clattering down beside it before the scraping of the chair opposite you was ringing in your ears.

Poking at it, you couldn't help but notice the smiley face sitting on top, the syrup beginning to sink in as the blueberries scattered over the top were almost half-submerged, looking a little wonky but still adorable, and you looked up at the man who was already tucking into his own, finding him staring at his own meal in silence.

“Smiley face.”

Your voice cracked a little with your whispered words, but his eyes met yours, pausing only a second before the edges of his lips were flicking up in a gesture of a smile, and one shoulder rose and fell in a weak shrug. “Told you I would.”

You only nodded, spoon stirring at the contents of the dish, mixing it all together and the face on the porridge disappeared as you blended the flavours, before lifting a heaped spoonful to your mouth. Blowing on it carefully, you took the mouthful between your lips, this time successful in holding in your little sounds of appreciation as the food hit your tongue. It was delicious, you couldn't deny that, warm and satisfying as you tried to fight off the cold that was still threatening to creep in.

It wasn’t that you hadn't worn suitable clothing, but you’d only worn a camisole and jumper with a pair of leggings that were undoubtedly on the thinner side, because warm clothing hadn't been your main concern the night before when they were only going to be peeled from your body an hour or so later, discarded to the floor. Now, you were deeply regretting that decision.

You also hadn't realised how hungry you’d been, because the headache that had been forming, throbbing behind your eyes with a dull ache, was beginning to recede, the anger that had been dwelling within your system was fading, and you were allowing your mind to replace it with guilt instead. You’d been a little crass this morning, yelling and lashing out at Joel when it had been your fault that you felt like shit, succumbing to the sensual temptations of nightfall and your loneliness, and blaming your decisions on everyone else when the sun had risen.

“Look, we’re going to be here a while.” You jumped, spoon clanging against the edge of your dish, and Joel tried - and failed - to bite back his smirk at the amusement of having scared you out of your thoughts. “Why don’t we just pretend like last night never happened? Start over again? You can stay on one side of the apartment, I’ll stay on mine, we don’t even really have to interact. We’ll just coexist until the snow is cleared, and then we can part ways and never meet again. Sound cool?”

You let out a breathy sound of amusement, nodding your head as relief flooded your system. “Works for me. Clean slate?”

“Great.” He nodded, that flickering look of amusement passing over his face again, and he reached a hand out across the table. “Hey, I’m Joel. Your roommate for the next couple of hours.”

You paused, letting out a sigh as he arched his eyebrows in a silent question as to whether you were going to leave him hanging, before you accepted the outstretched hand and shook it. Giving him your name in return, he nodded his head, before he was standing up, and taking both of your bowls away to the sink, dumping them into the soapy water that he’d already prepared so that they could begin to soak.

Crossing your legs under the table, and your nails tapped for a second, silence filling the room for a few minutes, and you desperately searched for something to say that you could use to fill the silence. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

His voice sounded almost as strained as your own, but you let out a little sigh at the fact that at least he’d broken the tense silence between you both, and you hummed. “Yeah, that's good with me. Do you have a phone charger I can use?”

He turned to look at you over his shoulder, hands still submerged within the sink, but you waved the device at him as he took it in. “Yeah, I’ll grab it. You can go and pick a film; remote is around there somewhere. Pick something good.”

You were more than eager to get away from sitting idly at the table in awkward quiet and waiting for the hours to pass, each tortuous minute making you wish you’d just remained downstairs alone, slowly freezing into a statue. The couch was large and plush, slightly worn seats but it only made it look more inviting, a plethora of cushions and pillows laid out for you to settle into, and just as he’d said, the controls were already out on the coffee table, a few coasters and random pieces of stationary covering the surface too.

Switching the television on, you waited for it to boot up, finding that he had netflix downloaded, and there was a list of films in the back of your mind that you’d been waiting to watch, and you flickered through them all as you stared at the screen. Narrowing it down, you felt like a comedy might be a good choice, lighten the air with something easy going and funny, nothing too intense, and the couch dipped at the very opposite end as your company sat as far away as he could, leaning against the other arm of the couch but dropping his phone charger down onto the space between, an olive branch extended in the form of a tangled phone wire.

“How about ‘Jumanji’?”

“Good film.” He mumbled, and you nibble don your lower lip, before he was letting out the breath he was holding and turning towards you. “Second one is on here too, we could watch them both. I haven’t seen that one, just the first.”

“It’s a plan.” You confirmed, clicking play on the movie and crossing your legs, leaning over the side of the couch to try and locate a socket, pushing the plug into the wall, and hooking your phone up the power, the device buzzing in your hand as it began to charge up.

Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart were an entertaining pair on screen, and as the group began to navigate through the jungle, you let yourself become immersed in what you were seeing on screen. It wasn’t all that hard, because Jack black was hilarious. The occasional echo of a laugh from one or both of you would crack the silence when something happened, and the picking of loose threads on your jumper had begun to stop as you settled a little more into the situation, your anxiety settling and not needing to be quite so stiff.

When there were only twenty minutes or so until the end of the first movie, your phone buzzed, and then again, a series of rapidly incoming texts, and flipping over the device, it was revealed to you as your friend. Swiping it open, you pulled up the texts, chuckling to yourself at the frantic collection of broken messages that she had sent to you.

[soph 🌹] only just woke up, so sorry!!

[soph 🌹] just checked news, no way to get to u!!

[soph 🌹] roads all blocked, wtf, when did this snow come down??

[soph 🌹] kinda funny tho.

[soph 🌹] only u would go for a hookup and get snowed in there.

[soph 🌹] is he at least hot? tap that again. fill the day with hot sex??

You scoffed, but your lips were forming a smile, and you could feel the glances that were being cast your way every couple of seconds, choosing to glance up and return the look as he turned to face you once again.

“My friend just woke up, she’s finally learning about the snow.”

“Did she know you were still, um..” He scratched at the back of his neck, other hand casting around the apartment. “-out?”

Heat flushed your own cheeks, before you were nodding your head, and he seemed or accept that, silence forming between you both once again as he turned to look back at the TV screen, but stretching out with a little more comfort, long legs crossing at the ankles from where they were extended before him, and he lounged back a little more.

> that’s definitely not going to happen.

You were only given a moment of reprieve, before your phone was chiming again.

[soph 🌹] why not!! not like you’ve got anything else to do

> probably bc we're not exactly getting along. civil at best.

She didn’t respond after that, leaving your message on read, and you assumed that she’d become preoccupied with the man you guessed would have spent the night there with her, and once again, you were envious of her for being at home and comfortable in her own space, when instead, you felt like you were walking on eggshells.

The majority of the second movie was spent more on taking in the details of the apartment around you, instead of the plot line and characters. Posters hung up on the walls, and you wondered how he could afford to live here, the place was nice, but there was nothing here that suggested another person lived in the apartment, but there was no way a college student could afford a place like this alone, unless his parents were paying for it. It was a nice area, the kind of place you could live with if you had kids or were elderly, and you were pretty sure on your way over here the night before that you’d seen someone walking a dog, making it the picture-perfect neighbourhood.

College textbooks and stationery were around, a stack of notebooks and text printouts sitting on the little table before you, and it was almost fifteen minutes before you built up the confidence to lean forward and take them all in with a little more detail. He watched as you went, your eyes moving to meet his as you waited for permission, but he never stopped you, so you picked up the first book that was on top.

‘Art within Literature: The Importance of Illustrations’

“Didn’t have you pegged for an art kinda’ guy.” You mumbled, and you heard him chuckle, before he was sitting up a little straighter, moving across the couch closer to you just slightly, to see which one you had picked up.

“Not the first time I’ve been told that, actually.” He grabbed at the controls, your eyes flickering up to the screen as the sound of the movie cut off, replaced by the boring drone of the local news station, but right now, it may as well have been the most important thing in the world as the two of you perked up to listen. Placing the book back down, your legs folded underneath yourself, and you secretly had your hopes up that they were going to be getting around to this end of the city soon.

It took a while, the list of places that were being cleared was working out from the inner city in circles, your hopes falling more and more and you listened, getting an update on the weather about how it was expected to be even colder tonight than it had been last night, and the snowfall wasn’t expected to stop anytime soon, but instead, you would be here even longer than expected. The earliest that there were any plans for the road to be cleared in this area was tomorrow morning, and sadness was once again spiking within your system, feeling the man beside you sag with just as much disappointment.

“Guess I’ll set the couch up for you, later.”

“Thanks.” You hoped your lack of enthusiasm didn’t show in your voice, because you truly were grateful, and he stood up, wandering away to his bedroom and grabbing the plastic woven basket he’d been using earlier as he went, presumably to start up another load of laundry. When the door to the apartment closed behind him, you were left in silence once again, and you turned down the volume and picked up the next book that had been on his pile.

This one was a sketchbook, that much was clear as soon as you opened the book, and his full name was written across the front page, information on how to return it if it came up lost followed it, smudged fingerprints from graphite and coloured chalks were also along the corners. Flipping the first page, you were caught a little off-guard by the image you saw, yet not entirely surprised.

Clearly, his passions lay with fiction and fantasy, the name of what you assumed to be some kind of ancient Greek novel, much like ‘Iliad’ or ‘The Odyssey’, because a range of different creatures and monsters were scattered across the pages beautiful drawings, incredible details and shading, and you’d never seen anything quite like them. You wanted to trace your fingers over them, but resisted in fear of ruining the delicate art, and flicked through the pages instead.

At the top of some pages the book titles changed, inspirations from different famous works, some you knew and some you didn’t, but the drawings were always perfect. When you reached the final page, you placed it down, guilt once again running through your veins as you remembered the way you’d snapped at him this morning, because the more you learned about him, the more you realised he wasn’t all that bad, and he was probably a pretty decent guy, if you’d just given him the chance to be.

Getting up from the couch, an idea was forming in your mind, a way to at least try to pay him back or make your appreciation known, and you found yourself again in his kitchen, hands on the cupboard doors as you began to look through them.

They were mostly empty, not much in place but enough to make it work, you were sure of it, you could whip up something out of all of it, and you moved across to have a look at the contents of the tall refrigerator hidden in the corner.

“Need help finding something?”

You startled, turning to look at him and closing the fridge, and his hands were on his hips as he stared at you, your arms wrapping around yourself gently as you shrugged. You couldn’t blame him for being a little putt-off, you were just a stranger after all, but you wanted to at least try and make proper amends with him, and so you let yourself be unbothered by the frustration flashing over his features.

“What are you looking for?”

“I was just seeing what you had in.” You waved a hand behind yourself, swallowing thickly and taking a small step around the dining table towards him. “I was just seeing what you had, because I was hoping to cook dinner for you, maybe? Y’know, as a thank you for letting me stay with you, and keeping me warm and all, even though I was rude this morning.”

“Oh.” The tightness in his shoulders loosened, his body slumping a little, tension melting away, and a bashful look flickered over the anger, taking its place as he tried to muster a smile for you. “That would, uh, be nice. Thanks. I don’t have a lot in, though.”

“You really don’t. Do you just survive on junk food and pasta?”

He laughed, a genuine laugh at that, before he was standing before you and reaching over to the cupboards, pulling out a packet of pasta, and holding it out to you. “What’s wrong with junk food and pasta?”

“Nothing! But it’s all you have!”

He only grinned, opening the fridge and standing to the side, double-checking what he had in. “Well, I’ll have you know that I make a great minestrone, and that’s what I was planning to have for my dinner tonight. You can join me.”

“I don’t know how to make that.”

“Well, I’ll teach you, and it’ll change your life. I swear it.” He closed the fridge, leaning back against it with a questioning look on his face, and you shrugged, but you felt a lot more comfortable already, the simple banter between you both mending a broken bridge.

“I was supposed to be cooking you dinner though.”

“You can be my sous-chef, how about that?” Now that was a deal you could work with, and you shook his hand, this time it was filled with giggles and wide smiles, as opposed to the last time you’d come to an agreement over breakfast only a few hours ago, the beginning of the day bringing much brighter prospects than the early morning had. “Now, what do you want to do until then?”

That was a good question, and it took you a minute to think about it, eyes glancing around his apartment for inspiration, pausing on the television stand with boxes of games stacked up underneath, and you lit up a little. “How about board games?”

He groaned, loudly, and you found amusement in it once again, being that this was his apartment, and he was finding issues with his own methods of entertainment and possessions. “Nobody plays board games while sober.”

“It's midday! We’re not getting drunk at midday!”

It was scandalous, and you didn’t have much more space to give over to scandals within the next twenty-four hours, pretty much having reached your quota already, and a cheeky look flickered over his features. “Well, we don’t necessarily have to drink..”

“What are you suggesting?”

Your eyes narrowed on him, and he spun on his heel, not saying a thing but letting you follow him. He cleared the books from the coffee table, stacking them all away on the floor in the corner, before lifting up the fold in the middle. He reached inside, and you waited patiently, your jaw dropping as he revealed the item to you, looking more than proud of himself.

A bong, tall with green glass, and it was decorated and bejewelled along the bottom, stickers and actions figures stuck to it, the whole collections making you snort a laugh as you looked at him, before your hands were landing on your hips and a look that you hoped read as ‘seriously?’ written on your face.

“What, you don’t want to?” He waited a moment longer, nibbling on his lower lip, before sitting on the opposite side of the coffee table and finding his lighter. He also reached for the first box on the top of the file, producing a box with one word across the front, brightly coloured and you recognised it. “Suit yourself, but I am. I need something to get through the whole afternoon with you.”

The comment would have stung a lot more had it not been for the cheeky wink that he added onto the end to tell you he was joking, and you sat cross-legged opposite him, picking up the box labelled ‘UNO’ and tipping the deck out into your hands. He clicked at the lighter, waiting for it to spark up, before his mouth was meeting one end of the glass, the contents inside bubbling and gurgling a little as he inhaled, and you dealt out the cards.

He hummed, head tipping back, eyes closed as he settled into the feeling of his eye, and as though he could feel you watching him, his head fell forwards, eyes opening to look at you. “Sure you don’t want any?”

You waited only a moment longer, before huffing out, holding your hand out for them both. “Fine, hand it over.” He placed both pieces on the table, sliding them across the polished wood to you, and you picked them up. Clicking on the flame, you adjusted it in your hand, lips pressing to the cool rim of glass, swilling it a little for good measure, before you were lighting up the end.

Steamy smoke curled up into your lungs as you inhaled deeply, warmth racing through your body as a tingling kind of feeling ran through your throat, tickling and making you grin, in a way that you were familiar with and yet hadn't been accustomed to in a long time. The buzzing feeling raced through your body, already kick-starting nerves and reactions that had felt dormant for a long time.

You hadn't been to a party, a real and exciting college party, since your break up. You’d locked in and sealed yourself away ever since your heart had been broken, and it felt good to adventure back out into the world like this, even if you were locked away with a guy from halfway across town whom you’d known for about twelve hours. “Okay, you were right.”

“Feel better?” He grinned, holding his hand out for the device, and for a little while, the two of you simply shared it between you, letting that initial tingle grow into a proper buzz the world around you beginning to slip away into a haze. Your vision was soft around the edges, slightly out of focus, and the world felt a little more comfortable. Spreading your legs out underneath the coffee table, your back leaned against the couch, feet in his lap as he sat with his legs crossed and folded under him.

When you’d decided your high was enough, you’d started with the games. ‘UNO’ had brought on rivalry and chaos, the two of you raising your voices to the point that you’d been yelling at one another, throats going a little sore as you cursed and laughed, not quite sentient enough now to make the best calls at the game, and so it had felt like it had dragged on for hours, before you had finally been the champion.

He had challenged you to a rematch in the form of a board game called ‘Frustration’, and the two of you had been so busy playing that the time was slipping away around you, the board being flipped by you as he began to win, counters scattering across the floor, and he looked completely and utterly insulted at it, before cracking up laughing with you once again.

After that, you had sprawled all of the games out over the floor, some of them being team games that you were unable to play together, and you’d refused to play a drawing game with him, because you’d peeked at his designs, and were scared to showcase your own drawing in front of him, worried that he’d completely put you to shame and leave you embarrassed.

Poker had been too much of a challenge, half of the pieces for the monopoly board were missing, and you’d done every round of Mario Kart at least once by the time it had come to turning off the console under the TV. Joining you by your side, the two of you were slumped lazily into the couch cushions, shoulders pressed together as the bong sat between you, fresh hits racing through your systems to keep everything exciting, but the thrill of the act itself was beginning to die off, and you were once again out of things to do for entertainment.

At some point, the light outside of the windows had faded, the clumps of snow that had been left along the windowsill were still rising, flakes still falling in flurries from the clouds, except what had once been visible in the day was now dark, the low light of the lamps in the room spilling golden light out across the walls and carpet. Rolling your head to the side, you took in the man sitting before you, watching as he tapped his feet repetitively on the coffee table to the beat of a song you didn’t recognise.

“I looked at your drawings.”

“What?” He paused, twisting to look at you, and he sat up a little further.

“I was being nosey. Earlier, I looked at the drawings in your sketchbook.” His gaze flickered to the leather-bound book in the corner, stacked up with the rest of his belongings, before getting up and putting the bong away, folding the edge of the table back down, and wiping a hand over his face, cheeks tinted pink, and you weren’t sure if it was from the warmth of the room or out of embarrassment. “They’re incredible. Some of the best illustrations I’ve ever seen, actually.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah. I could never draw like that. I can’t even draw stick men without them being wobbly, sometimes.” He smiled again at that, and you found an odd feeling running through you at the idea that you were able to make him smile, your stomach clenching and twisting as he looked at you fondly, shaking his head a little, eyes dropping to the floor.

“I don’t get a lot of practice with it, I can’t get any apprenticeships yet because nobody wants to hire someone who’s only experience is in one element. Mine being fantasy-sorts, I suppose.”

“Will you draw me?”

“What?” He looked a little startled, eyes wide, and you shuffled forwards on the couch, hand twitching to reach out and take his as you tried to reassure him, watching uncertainty flick over his face. “I don’t really have experience with drawing people. More the imaginary things, described but never seen, less to fuck up if there’s nothing to compare it to.”

“I don’t think you’ll fuck it up.” He swallowed thickly, moving to kneel on the other side of the table, his sketchbook in hands as he fidgeted with it.

“If I mess it up, don’t make me show you, okay?” You only nodded, and he hesitated a moment longer, before getting himself into a more comfortable position, searching through the drawers around him to find his pencils and equipment, laying them out and taking an extra amount of time to line them all up perfectly, and you were sure it was because he wanted to give himself a spare few seconds to hype himself up to it.

You waited patiently, just now beginning to process what was about to happen, and that you’d have to sit still for a long time, while he stared at you, drawing every highlight and flaw of you, while you remained steady under his gaze for as long as it took. When he was ready, you moved yourself a little more, sinking down onto the floor after rounding the coffee table, sitting at the side of it as he positioned you.

“Can you, um-” He tugged two fingers on his own t-shirt, and you looked down at your hoodie, the hood of it crowding around your shoulders, and you nodded, tugging it up from the bottom and over your head. A cool breeze swept over your skin, exposed with only the thin satin camisole hanging on your body to keep you warm, but you felt yourself light up on fire with the way his eyes swept over you. “However you’re comfortable. I’m just going to draw your head and shoulders, so, do whatever you want.”

You pressed your elbows to the wood, hand forming a loose fist and your cheek pressed to it, leaning like that, a slight ankle, and he nodded his head to himself, seeming to approve of the pose. Picking up a pencil, he studied you for a second, the nib hovering over the paper as he held it at an angle that couldn't see, perfect for him to work on though, before stopping.

Placing the pencil between his lips, he held it there, reaching forwards to pull a few strands of your hair free on either side, framing your face and letting them dangle there, curling one around his finger a little to make it twisted, before he was pulling back. “You’re so pretty.”

After that, he was working. Quick strokes of his pencil over the paper as he created the first outline of you, your head, where and how your hair would fall, your hand holding up your head and down to the spaghetti straps on your shoulders, quick movements, a lot of erasing, and very light brushes of the graphite over the paper. Once he was sure he had the form right, only a few minutes in, he started on the details.

His eyes, lingering on your face, licking at his lips to keep them wet as he worked, parted for short breaths, unaware of what he was doing and you resisted biting down on your own as you looked at him, trying to hold your position. It was hard, the look of concentration on his face while staring at your mouth, or the determination in his eyes as he held your gaze and yet was so far away, taking in every little detail, until he was rubbing his finger over certain spots to create shading, and create the minute detailed with finally sharped tips.

Your arm was sore and neck aching when he finally told you that you could sit up, and you rolled your head from side to side, loosening the muscles and tendons that had begun to lock up from the prolonged length of time motionless. He was clutching the pad to his chest, fingers tapping at the back, some slightly smudged with grey graphite, and you inched closer to him.

“Can I see?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” He tried to laugh at his own comment, but was nervous, and you placed a hand over his gently, pulling it toward you slowly, and he gave no reluctance, but wasn’t moving of his own accord. “Okay, you can look, but you have to remember that I’m not good at drawing people, and I’m still high as fuck.”

You’d almost forgotten about that, and it was just now clicking with you why you’d been bold enough to do something like model for a sketch, your inhibitions lower, the boldness of nightfall giving you yet another boost in something that you’d never have done earlier in the day. Taking it from him, you turned it around, seeing the nervous look on his face before you were looking down at the sketch. His own worries had prepared you for the worst, but as you looked at it, you decided it wasn’t all that bad.

There was certainly work to be done, but he had the basic forms down, even you could tell that. It was clear that his skill lay elsewhere, the detailing of things like fins and scales was nothing like drawing the subtle imperfections of skin and the dips and dimples of a face, the creases where a fist held a head up nothing like the folds along the back of a monster, but he certainly had a grounding to work from, and you loved what you were seeing despite it all.

“I love it.”

“You’re totally lying to me.” He mumbled, and you shook your head, placing the notepad down, and fixing your attention on him. “It fuckin’ sucks.”

“It does not! I think it's really good. Especially since you said you had no practice, I was expecting something bad. This is so much better than you made it out to be.”

His lips flicked up at the sides, his head raising, bringing him a little closer to you as he straightened out, feeling better about it all now. “You should’ve seen some of the things I drew in high school. My portraits were awful back then, but I was drawing people while in the car, so it wasn't the smoothest of working places.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’ve come a long way since high school, and I think you’re really talented.”

He hummed, eyes flicking down to your lips again, and this time, as he licked at his own, there was no excuse of artwork, or anything else, your heart jumping slightly in your chest. There was a moment, a second’s hesitation as you questioned whether this was what you wanted. There was time to stop, to pull back, his nose bumping yours lightly, warm breath washing over your mouth, and you were a second away from closing the gap, before loud knocking was sounding at the door, and making the decision for you.

Pulling back, his gaze went over your head, brows furrowing as he stared at the door. “Hello?”

You winced at the loud shout, and he mumbled an apology upon realising it, slight disappointment surging through you, but not as much as relief. You were growing more and more attached to this man, but at the end of the snowstorm, you’d still have to leave, and he was still a stranger. You were high, and the romanticism of the situation was morphing things to look rose-tinted and alluring, and you wanted to be of a rational mind to make a decision like that. “Hey, Joel! It’s Mandy, I was wondering if you would grab your stuff from the laundry room, so I can put a couple of loads through?”

His eyes went wide, gaze dropping to your own for a second. “Shit, I totally forgot about the laundry!”

His hand slipped down to yours, fingers lacing together as he tugged you up from the floor, handing you the basket that had been discarded hours ago, and he opened the door, an older woman who looked positively exhausted, arms full of boy’s clothing, and you pitied her knowing that she must be trapped in a shoebox apartment with a son who would be bouncing off of the walls and unable to burn off that energy.

“Sorry, Mandy, I forgot about it. We’ll grab it now.”

“We?” You muttered, the woman’s eyes flickering over you in amusement, and you were tugged out of the apartment and towards the stairs quickly, hearing the door close behind you, and the much slower steps of the tired mother as she trailed you.

The concrete was cold underfoot, especially the lower you got, and you hissed as your sock-covered feet hit the icy stone, never having had a chance to put on your shoes. Putting the container down, he opened it up, steam curling out into the air, even though the dryer had been finished for hours.

‘You couldn't have let me put my jumper on before we came down here? It’s literally freezing over right outside that window.” You mumbled, Joel turning to you, and he cringed a little, as though he had only just remembered the scrap of fabric you were wearing as a top. Pulling an armful of the warm clothing, he sorted through them, pulling a cosy looking jacket from within, and wrapping it over your shoulders. Heat seeped back into your body, warmed from the machine, and you barely noticed the mother entering the room, waiting for Joel to clear his clothes out, watching as you ripped the hoodie up along the front of your body, hood pulled up and hands made into paws by the long sleeves.

“You look cute.”

“I look cold.” You retorted, and he only rolled his eyes, but Mandy laughed, and that was enough recognition for you.

“Yeah, well, we can make some hot food when we get upstairs and you’ll be fine, how about that?” He sat the collection under one arm, offering his other hand to you, and you pushed up the sleeve of the borrowed hoodie, weaving your fingers with his as he guided you from the room.

“I’ve been waiting for this minestrone you’ve been boasting about. I need to see if it lives up to the hype.

“Hey, everyone loves my minestrone!” He backed his way into the home, dropping your hand in order to place down the basket that wouldn’t be looked at for hours now, you were sure. He ushered you into the kitchen, hurting you along until his hands were tickling at your sides and you were squirming under his touch, laugh loudly as he pushed you into the little room.

You worked alongside him, trying to take in the information he was giving to you but it was hard, because the little things he was doing were distracting you. The way in which his hands moved as he chopped the vegetables or prepare the meat, the passionate easy his voice sounded as he told you all about it, his eyes sparkling a little while instructing you, and the little jokes he’d make while bumping you out of the way with his hip, or guiding you around with nudges of his elbow or shoulders.

While cooking, he opened up a little, a story that you’d never have expected to learn from him, but he told you anyway. His parents had died in a car accident when he was young, too young to really remember them, but he’s been allowed to take several boxes of things with him to his foster home as he waited for adoption, and he’d taken his mother’s recipe book as one of those items.

When he’d been adopted, a man whose family had died and he’d become a foster parent, had helped him experiment with his cooking and drawing, instead of forcing him into typical paths for men to take, making him become a football player or a lawyer like he’d expected he’d end up after leaving the system.

A younger sister, also adopted from another family called Minnow, and a dog adopted from a shelter called ‘Boy’, and suddenly, in the space of time that it had taken to make the meal, delicious smell floating around you, he’d spilled to you his history, and you’d listened quietly as he got it off his chest, figuring out somewhere along the way that you were probably one of the only people to ever know this story.

You weren’t sure if that brought you comfort or not, whether he was telling you out of trust and connection, or whether he was telling you because he knew that you’d never see one another again after today, and so he didn’t mind sharing his deepest protected truths. During the heavy discussion, the nibbling of food and the time passing you by, the high you’d once claimed was beginning to fizzle out, everything coming back to sharpness once again, and yet somehow, just by being in his presence, you still felt that same freedom.

When you were sitting back at the table, he was staring at you with excitement now, watching as you lifted a spoonful of the concoction to your lips to try it, seemingly leaving behind the heavy conversation that had taken place as he simply moved on. You took a longer than needed time to assess it, humming contemplatively just to put him through his paces, before finally giving in.

“Okay, this is really good, I’ll give you that.”

“I told you so!” He cheered loudly, arms thrown up in the air, and you laughed a little, tucking into your meal, and wiping up one of the bread rolls that he'd placed into the middle of the table for you both.

You were tempted to ask him for the recipe, knowing that one day you’d be craving it again, and yet, you weren’t sure if you could, whether it would be appropriate or whether that would be crossing a line, to ask to take away a piece of something that he shared with his late mother.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.” You spoke, tearing off a mouthful of bread roll after dipping it into the soup mix, and chewing slowly as you waited for him to reply.  

“Did you mean it?” You paused your chewing, confusion making itself known on your face as you silently questioned what he meant, stirring your dinner with your spoon as you waited for him to elaborate, and he swallowed his mouthful to do so. “When you said my name sounded like a first draft of a name.”

For the umpteenth time today, embarrassment and regret was flooding through you, and you took your time to finish the food you were eating, his gaze lingering on you as he waited. When you couldn't stall any longer, you sipped at your water, before giving in. “Yes, I did.” His mouth pursed into a thin line, and you reached a hand out across the table, trying to contain your amusement. “Like, a really good first draft, though, almost there!”

“Nice save.”

Silence fell between you both once again, eating food in a comfortable quiet, and once again the direct parallel to this morning’s porridge struck through you, only twelve hours having passed and yet absolutely everything was different between you both. You couldn't put your finger on what it was about him, something that had caught your attention the first time around had now got you captive again, and there was just something adorably charming about everything he did.

Handsome but bashful, shy but cocky, always making jokes but somehow being able to jump right into something deep and meaningful too, and you’d closed yourself off for so long that it was a little scary for everything you were feeling to come rushing back all at once.

You hadn't had a crush since high school, and you weren’t sure if you liked the idea of one forming now.

“What about the other thing, did you mean that, too?” You searched your mind, reliving that argument as you tried to work out what he was referring to, and you almost dropped your spoon as it all came crashing down, remembering the harsh words that you’d spat in the eat of the moment, and yet it didn’t make them any less true. You only nodded your head, and he let out a loud groan, pouting a little. “Well, that fucking sucks.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, it’s really hard to do! Women are just better at doing that themselves, y’know? We don’t have to talk about it.”

“That doesn't help! You can’t just, like, drop a bomb on me like that; ‘hey, maybe you've never made a girl come in your entire freakin’ life’ and then say you don’t want to talk about it!” He pushed his empty dish away from himself, and your brows raised, arms crossing over atop the table, staring at him critically, and deciding you were finished with your food. “I want to talk!”

“No way! Guys can't handle constructive criticism like that! We’ll end up just like we were this morning, and then we’ll be back to square one! I like how we are now!”

“No! I promise you, I can take it. Just, help me out, here?” He reached out, pushing the dishes out of the way so that nothing was in the way, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. “You help me, I’ll help you.”

“What do you mean help me? You think you got pointers for me?”

“This isn’t a one-way street! Last night was awesome, but you could improve on a few things too. Guess you’ll never know, now, though.” He sighed, glancing off over your head, and you knew it was bait, some very obvious bait at that, and you hated to fall for it, but your own insecurities were getting the best of you, and you huffed loudly.

“Fine!” He turned back to you, a wicked smile on his lips as he realised that clearly, he had won. “I bite, you got me. Go!”

“Okay, this isn't just you, I just wanna’ make that clear to start with.” You raised a brow, leaning back in your chair, arm still crossed and listening intently. “What is with the whole lights off, thing? The fuck is that? If the lights are off, like you requested and I so gentlemanly obliged, I could be having sex with anything! I don’t want to be having sex with anything, I want to be having sex with you.” He paused, eyes darting away from you for only a second, and he wet his lips. “Or, y’know, whoever it is I’m with.”

“Lights on? Wow, and all guys feel this way?” He opened his mouth to reply, before you were letting out a loud ‘booing’ sound. “Duh! Girls hear that more than ‘hello’. That’s all you got?”

“Okay, okay, alright.” He smirked slightly, leaning forwards and resting his forearms on the table. “You, and by you, I mean women in general, do this thing where you stand up, and kinda’ turn away, and then get undressed, like, super-fast. Like you’re at the doctors or something, getting a physical!”

“I’ve never had any complaints about how fast I undress before. Most guys like naked me.”

“I love naked you.” He dropped his gaze, scanning along your body, and you threw a bread roll at him as you realised he was remembering you without your clothes on from the night before, the soft accompaniment bouncing from his head and rolling over the table. “Hey! I’m just saying! Naked you is awesome to look at, and touch, but what I mean is that you could make the getting to being naked part a little more exciting.”

“Exciting?”

“Yeah! You know, do that whole slow bra thing, take it off to the side. Drop it in that sexy way. Do that little ass thing with your panties, y’know, where you just-” He wiggled in his seat, demonstrating the little as movement that all girls did with their panties when they wanted to feel a little sexy. “All I’m saying is that guys like the undressing part too, make it more of a.. thing.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. One more thing.” He paused, this seemingly the one he was most nervous about, and you leaned forward on your elbows, watching him lean in a little too, rolling his lips before speaking. “When I was inside of you, you did this thing. You started helping yourself a little bit, it kind of made me feel like I was being benched. Second-string, forgotten.”

“Duly noted.” You mumbled, and he shrugged a little, the space between you both going void of sound but crackling with electricity. “Is it my turn now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t know who taught guys to do that alphabet thing with their tongue, but it kind of makes me feel like I’m Helen Keller being fucked by her teacher.”

“That’s not a fantasy of yours?” He faked shock, and you tried to cover up your laugh to keep the conversation as serious as you could, and he tried to still himself, nodding for you to continue.

“There was this one moment, during foreplay, where I was close to coming, and I’m pretty sure I subtly pointed it out. Do you remember what I said?”

“Uh, ‘I’m close to coming’?”

“Yes, that’s it!” He scowled falsely, unsure where you were going with this, and it was your turn to smirk a little. “Right after I said that, you totally switched up what you were doing. What was the thought process there? If you had me right there at third, home base in sight, why would you start running in a different direction?”

“Okay, got it. That’s actually helpful.”

“All my tips are helpful! Like, also, you waited for me to undress you. Which was awkward, and a little weird, don’t do that.” You were almost out of advice, pausing for a second to think. “When a girl helps out, that's a good thing! This is sex, not a competition, my ex was weird about that too, just embrace the team spirit, it makes it better for everyone.” He nodded, and you felt a little out of breath, but a weight lifted off your shoulders. “Oh! Yeah, you went too fast. I felt like I was being drilled for oil. Girls want fast, but also slow. Kinda’ felt like you were in a rush, had somewhere better to be.”

“Trust me, I didn’t.”

“Obviously.” You teased, and he grinned, taking in all the information you were giving him. “Lastly, I guess it’s just after. Like, as soon as we finished, you retreated to the other side of the bed like you’d planted a bomb down there. Stick around, hold a girl, count to ten or something. That one will get you a long way, trust me.”

“Cuddling. Noted.”

“Other than that, you were a perfectly adequate lover.” He gaped at you a little, and his whole body sagged.

“Adequate? What a way to boost a guy’s ego.”

“See, I knew this would happen, you’re-”

“Fine! I’m fine!” He reached out, placing a hand over one of yours, and squeezing comfortingly. “Seriously, now I know. I can make use of that advice next time.” He offered you a smile, and you tried to return it, nervous butterflies making you feel a little nauseous as you tried to settle yourself, no indication that he was angry or upset with you. “You said something about your ex in there, y’know. Is that why you broke up, crappy sex?”

You knew it was meant as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but your stomach dropped. “Uh, no.” You cleared your throat, hands pulling from his to clasp them in your lap as you looked away. “That would’ve been because I found him in our bed with one of my friends.”

The air went dead, silence encased you, and you heard the legs of his chair scrape on the floor as he pushed it back. Kneeling in front of you, he took your hands in his, forcing you to meet his eye. “I’m really sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“It’s okay. At least I know she isn't getting much.”

He chuckled, but it was dry and empty, and he reached up, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “For the record, I think he’s a dipshit. You’re an amazing girl, anybody who would cheat on you isn’t worth you.”

“Thanks, Joel.”

He stood up, pulling you with him, until you were standing up once again. “Go find another film. I’ll get us all sorted here. Anything you want, it’ll cheer you up.” You waited a moment longer, ready to do as he’d said, before a set of lips were brushing against your forehead, and your breath hitched in your throat. Pressing into the touch just a little, it was almost embarrassing how you reacted, how much you’d missed simple affections, how it felt to be excited around someone instead of just bored or dreading having to see them, the excitement of once again experiencing the thrill of something invigorating and new. “I’m honestly sorry for bringing it up.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Kinda’ is.” He mumbled, fingers playing with yours lightly where your hands were still hanging connected, and the whole experience was a little different. This wasn’t a near-miss kiss while high after the intimacy of drawing one another, nor was it holding hands in the rush to get to the laundry room while hopped up on adrenaline and a little embarrassment. “He’s a moron, and he didn’t deserve you. Neither did your friend, if she’d do something like that to you.”

“They deserve each other.”

“Atta’ girl.” He teased, squeezing your hand once more, before letting you go, and as you settled down onto the couch cushions, you had to try hard just to steady your racing heart as you scroll through movies on Netflix, perched happily along the couch, but it was a little chilly, the space heater was barely holding its own against the chill of the outside.

“You got any blankets?” You didn’t even bother turning your head as you shouted the words, still exploring the film choices, and this time, you went for something a little more exciting. A ‘Mission Impossible’ movie was always a hit, right? Everybody loves Tom Cruise.

“Yes, I do.” You jumped, never having heard him moving around, and he stood before you, a fluffy looking blanket bundled in his arms, and you made grabby-hands for it with a grin. He shook his head, slumping down beside you on the ouch, and you bounced a little with the movements he made. “What, you think I read your mind? This blanket is for me, but I might just share it with you.”

“Yeah, what’s the catch?”

“You have to smile, so I know you’re really okay.” You couldn’t help it, trying to bite back the grin on your face as you flushed with shy heat, and he whooped loudly upon seeing the expression. Spreading the blanket out across you both, his fingers brushed across your skin, tucking it around your thighs and over your waist as he and sure you were covered, before his arm was stretching out along the back of the couch behind you.

“You’re too smooth for your own good.”

“Don’t get used to it, I’m incredibly awkward and not nearly as brave, usually.” You rolled your eyes, nudging your shoulder against his but not bothering to say anything, and starting up the movie.

Tucking your legs underneath yourself, you adjusted the blanket, your feet cold as you lifted them up from the cooled flooring, and directing your attention over to your phone. It had been hours since you’d check it, since you'd even felt the need to know whether anyone else had been in touch with you, and even as that realisation came to mind, you still didn’t budge to collect it.

Earlier in the day, you had been bitter and wishing to be home, where you’d inevitably only be locked up tight in your own bedroom and watching movies to pass the time away, listening to Sophie and her boyfriend move around the apartment, trapped in permanently third-wheeling until the snow melted. Now, you were happy, knowing that you’d made a new friend, and that you were at least venturing back out into the world for the first time since having your heart broken.

A hand came down, fingers playing with the edges of your hair lightly, twirling a light strand between his fingers, and as you swept your gaze over the man a foot or so away from you on the couch, his eyes were still fixed on the screen of the television. His fingers brushed against your neck occasionally, and each time, you had to suppress the urge to shiver. It was an invitation, the changing for day to night once again shifting everything between you both, unspoken words to invite you closer, easy for you to choose to take, or not to take, and nothing would be said about it at all.

Your entire body ran over with goosebumps, and your fingers picked lightly at the blanket, unsure of which move you wanted to make. On the one hand, you could definitely take that step, move a little closer and risk falling into that again, or you could stay where you were, play it safe and not risk a thing. Fold your cards and wait for the next round.

“I’ll just be a minute, okay?”

You stood up, his hand falling away from yourself and the blanket laying down on the couch, and he nodded his head, a barely present smile on his face as he nodded his head, and you slipped away, giving yourself just a moment to think as you disappeared to the bathroom. Closing the door behind yourself, you leaned back against it, letting out a deep breath and trying to clear your mind, weighing the pros and cons of where this night might go.

Shaking yourself down a little, you felt the tension flee from your body, and you placed your hands onto the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror hanging over it. You were always playing it safe, always had, and maybe that’s why your ex had adventured and found excitement somewhere else, needing the thrill of it, because you never took risks.

If you hadn't taken a risk last night, you wouldn't be here now, and after all, you’d had a great day. Maybe it would blow up and backfire, maybe when the snow melted you’d never see him again, maybe it wouldn't work out, but you’d never know if you didn’t at least try.

“Oh, woman up. For once in your life.” You muttered, running the water and splashing a little of the cool liquid over your face, refreshing yourself with just how icy cold it was, a little hiss leaving you. Shaking your hands off and patting your face dry, you ran a hand through your hair, deciding you were ready. Uncapping the toothpaste, you took a small chunk from it on your finger, placing the blob onto your tongue and licking it around your mouth for freshness, doing the best you could to clean your teeth a little, before using your hands as a cup and rinsing with some water.

At least you felt a little fresher and more alluring now. A good confidence booster, because fuck it, you were all in.

Stepping back out into the main room, you undid the zipper on the hoodie of his that you’d borrowed, letting it hang open along the front, the thin satin of your camisole on display, the material falling away from one shoulder as it hung baggy on your body now that it was open. Upon your return, he turned to look at you, lips parting a little as his eyes flickered along your body, gaze lingering on the exposed skin of your shoulder, your arms, the midriff shown between the edge of your top and the hem of your leggings, before his jaw was snapping shut, and he met your eyes again, only for a split second, before looking back to the movie.

Lifting the edge of the blanket, you sat a little closer to him than you had been before, your arm brushing against his side as you got comfy, and you heard him let out a slightly shaky breath, fingers tapping against the back of the couch, behind where your head had once been, now further down the couch as you sat close enough to smell the lingering aftershave on his skin.

Five long minutes passed, and you almost thought you’d overstepped, that he didn’t want this as much as you thought he would, that the connection was one-sided, but then his hand slipped down, fingers brushing over the bare skin of your shoulder on the side where the jacket had dipped down, nails scraping slightly, before the rest of his arm followed. Slipping it around your shoulders, his hand hung over you, playing lightly with the spaghetti strap of your top, running along the silky material, under it, playing with it in slow and absentminded patterns, and you contained yourself from celebrating out loud, or doing something that wouldn't be considered as ‘playing it cool’.

You paused, giving it just enough time, the feeling of roughened fingertips rubbing along your skin, and after a moment, you realised it was being inched a little further over. As the strap fell away, falling over your arm again, his movements paused, everything going still for just a second, before his fingertips were pressing to bare skin again. Twisting towards him a little more, you pressed up to his side, lifting a leg until the lower half of your legs were tangled together as they sat ahead of you, propped up on the coffee table.

He hummed a little under his breath, your head adjusting to rest on his shoulder, and he dared to reach his fingers a little lower than just along your shoulder, brushing as far as the undersides of your collarbones, and you cuddled in a little closer to him still.

“I can’t stop thinking about what you said.” His words were gruff, voice low and gravelling as he kept his tone to just above a whisper, and you rolled your lips together for a second, trying to settle on your words.

“And what would that be?”

“Well, y’know, all the improvements I could make. I’ve been thinking about it.” You only hummed, fingers smoothing over his stomach and across towards his side until you were holding onto him, and the muscles underneath tensed and rippled under the soft cotton tee he was wearing. “But, I’d never really know if I was getting it right until I put it into practice.”

“Well, that does make sense.”

“Yeah, and I mean, I’d need someone who could tell me, give me real talk.” He was continuing on with the rouse, the playful energy between you both sparkling, and the movie was long-forgotten, simply becoming background noise.

“Makes sense. Someone to guide you as you go.”

“Exactly.” He mumbled, turning himself enough to drag the tip of his nose over your cheek, and you tipped your head back a little, making it easier for him as his lips brushed your cheek. “Know anyone up for the task?”

“I think I might know someone.” You whispered, hand coming up to lace into his hair, and he rumbled happily at the scrape of your nails over his scalp.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You promised, and he grinned, shifting enough to let his mouth slant across yours, a kiss that was more than overdue. Lifting a hand to sit on his jaw, he pressed into you a little further, one hand still behind the couch, while the other was sliding down to find your waist, the blanket falling away and the movie becoming nothing but background noise as his lips worked softly with your own.

You’d expected hot and sloppy, but he was taking it slower this time, sweet and passionate, not nearly as desperate as you’d been anticipating, and your heart was racing in your chest with the tenderness in which he kissed you. Once the blanket was kicked from your legs, his hand dipped a little lower, smoothing around your lower back, and pulling you in towards him until you could drape a leg over his thighs. Settling into his lap, both of hands were sitting low on your hips, teeth grazing along your lower lip as the what between you both seemed to double, and you pressed a little closer into him.

“Put your hands, just-” You took a hold of his wrists, lowering his hands a little, your forehead pressed to his as you pushed them around until he could hold fistfuls of your ass through your leggings, squeezing tightly, and you keened into his touch. Rocking your hips down into his own, you gasped, his grunt at the feeling being silenced as your lips closed back over his, and he hummed happily when your tongue dragged slowly against his.

For each rock you made down into him, his hips were jumping, small thrust upwards to meet you, and it became more frantic with every little movement. He was growing underneath you, the material of his sweats doing little to hide the hardening cock that seemed to twitch and jump each time you dragged your core along his length, even through the layers of material, and you could feel yourself growing wetter and weather, uncomfortably so the longer your went, but the pressure was perfect, an orgasm already beginning to grow within you.

When the burn for oxygen became too much, he pulled back, lips worked along your jaw slowly, soft sucks that weren’t hard enough to leave bruises but sent sparks of electricity and excitement flooding through you each time, nips at your skin as he worked his way down your neck, until he was biting teasingly at the shoulder with the strap of your top still hanging over your arm, bare skin exposed to him. “You know, not a criticism, just a compliment, but you really got kissing down to an art.”

He chuckled against your skin, a little breathless, but still enough to make you tremble at the feeling, before he was making his way back up to you, nose dragging over your skin until his mouth could brush against yours. “Is that so?”

“Totally.” You mumbled, your hand slipping into his hair to hold onto a fistful as his mouth crashed back into your own, and he put those skills to good use. He all but knocked the oxygen from your lungs with the intensity of it, leaving your head spinning and lungs burning but you were unable to pull away, the addictive way that his mouth worked with your own, so sensual and intimate that you were flaring up with heat, and you finally knew what it felt like when people said there were fireworks in a kiss, because you felt as though the fourth of July was exploding around you.

“Bedroom?”

“Absolutely.” You mumbled, having to tear yourself away from his kisses, diving back in a few times, before finally, you managed to pull yourself away. You took his hands in your own, pulling him up with you as the two of you moved, and his hands found your hips, guiding you in your backwards walking steps as he followed behind you; foreheads pressed together, occasionally pressing sweet kisses to one another, giggles shared into the air between you until you came to a stop in the doorway.

Turning around, you paused, more of a laugh erupting from you.

“First criticism, messy sheets is a turn off.” He sounded confused for a second, mouth leaving where he had been kissing along your neck, his head coming up to take a look, and he huffed a little.

“Right, yeah, forgot about that. Let me just-” He moved away, on side of the bed to straighten the blankets out, pushing the pillows back up to the top end of the bed, and you helped out, smoothing over them until the job was done haphazardly, but at least it least it was no longer messy, and he stood on the opposite side from you, hands on his hips for a second. “Better?”

“Much.” He nodded his head, licking over his lips, and taking the lower one prisoner as his gaze swept over you, His hair was a little messy, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, and you were certain that you looked exactly the same, the tension between the two of you sizzling. You couldn't handle it, the two of you meeting halfway as you knelt on the bed, his body colliding with yours and lips meeting in frenzied kisses as you connected again.

He reached a hand behind his head, tugging his shirt up and away from his body, a delicious display of flexing muscles and veiny forearms as he discarded of it, shaking the hair that flopped down into his face free.

“That was hot.”

“All I did was take off my shirt?” He whispered, pulling back when you tried to kiss him so that he could raise his brows in silent questioning.

“We like that. When you do that whole ‘taking your shirt off with one hand behind your head’ thing. Plus, you just looked good while doing it.” He looked down at himself, before back up to you, hands cupping your face to bring you in closer to him, and he pressed a series of pecks to your lips, until you were laughing lightly and pushing him back with hands spread over his chest.

He followed you as you stood, and you undid the rest of the zip on the hoodie, letting it fall open, and down your arms slowly, and he watched it go, until the material was crumpled in a pile around your feet. Placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him backwards, until his knees were buckling against the mattress and he was sitting down, staring up at you with wide eyes and parted lips, waiting for your next move. With a finger under his chin, you tipped his face upwards, enough to be able to peck his lips, before you were stepping away from him.

Turning away, you heard him shuffling, the ruffling of material and the slight creaking of the bed, before it was silent, and you took a steadying breath. Crossing your arms over your middle, you tugged the satin top up slowly, brushing your own fingers over your skin, and you heard him groan behind you as it hit the floor, hair falling back down your back upon being freed from the material. Hooking your fingers into the edge of your leggings, you peeled them down your legs, bending at the waist, and removing them from your feet, slowly, before turning back to face him, clad only in your panties.

His eyes were half-lidded, and jaw hanging slack, only clad in his boxers now, but he was palming himself through the material as he sat propped up in the pillows, and you rounded to his side of the bed, one of his hands reaching out for you, and you took it, a gentle hold as his fingers weaved with yours.

“How was that?”

“So fucking hot.” He mumbled, the hand that he had been using to rub at his hard cock through his boxers came free, a wet patch left across the front of the pale checkered fabric, precum soaking into them and your thighs clenched at the idea of having that effect on him. Running the tip of one finger under the waistband of your panties, he tugged you a little closer to him still, before snapping the elastic against your skin. “What about these?”

“Figured you might want to do that.”

Your eyes dropped to his mouth, before meeting his gaze again, only a split second slip, but he was smirking, clearly having seen it. Before you could even process what he was doing, his arms had wrapped around your middle, twisting you around and lifting you to lay in the bed beside where he had been, your head in the pillows and his arms holding him up on either side of you, and you panted a little, the yelp that had left you making you breathless.

“Holy shit.”

“Couldn’t help it. You say dirty things and it makes me feel a little wild.” His legs were caging you in, moving lower and lower as he kissed his way over your collarbones, lips and tongue leaving wet trails between your breasts as he lowered himself further and further.

“Wild is good. I like wild.”

“Hm, I hope so.” He whispered the words, tongue grazing along the sensitive skin above your panties, before he was tapping at your hips with his fingers, and you were lifting them for him to shimmy your panties down. Once you were bare before him, you grew a little shy once again, legs snapping shut, and he chuckled, a hand landing on each knee, and he pressed kisses along the tops of your thighs. “Please don’t be shy, gorgeous. You’re so damn beautiful, you have nothing to be shy about.”

Squeezing his hands at your knees, you twitched a little, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to peer down at him, and he grinned, pressing a kiss to your stomach, before leaning up and pressing an equally quick but sweet kiss to your lips.

“Open up your pretty legs for me, yeah?”

You couldn't hold back, the way he was talking to you and touching you, loving caresses that soothed your nerves, and he groaned under his breath as your slick core was revealed to him. Legs bending at the knees, you planted your feet flat on the bedding, and he was able to settle on his stomach between them, hot breath fanning over your core.

His arms wrapped around your thighs, fingertips digging into them roughly, and he rubbed a hand up and down them slowly, the twitching in your gut coming to a still as he still managed to find time and sentience to ease your nerves as he pressed his mouth in sweet kisses along the insides of your thighs, biting a little at the top and chuckling as he felt you jerk in surprised shock. Lacing a hand into his hair just as his mouth moved to close over your core, you tugged lightly, his eyes flickering up to find yours. “What’s wrong, gorgeous? Did I mess something up?”

“No, no, you’re perfect.” Your words were panted out, and you were trembling while holding yourself up, but you shook your mind clear, trying to focus enough to break through the haze. “Just wanted to say thank you. You’re being such a sweetheart, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this confident before, so before my mind completely clears, I wanted to say that.”

He paused, a look flicking over his features to expose that he clearly didn’t expect that, and there was a much more adoring smile on his face as he processed your words. “It’s my pleasure, you’re worth it, and you deserve a guy to treat you like the special and incredible woman that you are.”

You choked a little on your breath, unsure of how to reply, so you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding your head, before pushing his back down a little. “Okay, enough heart-to-heart crap. You can continue now.”

“As you wish, princess.”

He dragged his tongue once along your core slowly, and you took a sharp inhale of breath, the feeling of a hot and wet mouth working over you was something that you’d sorely missed, and while Joel had gone down on you yesterday too, this would be so much better and you already knew it. Instead of rushed and nervous, it was erotic and confident, sure in your movements, and sure that he could be the best you’d ever had, you could tell just from the way this night was going so far, that these memories would be burned in your mind for the rest of your life.

Rubbing a thumb over your clit, he chuckled at the way your thighs trembled slightly, before he was pulling away, diving in to replace his finger with his mouth. Lips sucking at the little bud, your fingers tightened in his hair, back arching at the feeling, and he licked over the bud, before repeating the process. Again, and again, and then, he was replacing his movements. Tongue flicking out, rapid kitten licks over the bud, and you squealed a little, thighs clamping around his head as you did, and you whined a little.

“Wait, Joel!” He paused after a moment, your entire body still tingling with the feeling of his mouth, but your legs loosened as he pulled them open, brows raising at you, and slick was already glistening on his chin. “Good, but can be better. Start slow, don’t go right in, tease me a little. Speed up when I’m closer, okay?”

“I thought girls hated being teased?”

“We can love it, if you do it right. You’ll know when to speed up, okay? Start slow, add a finger, then another, speed up when I’m getting close.” He nodded his head, a lopsided smile on his face, and he was taking your advice. He started slow, a long and torturous drag of his tongue over your core, and then again, before his tongue circled your entrance for a moment, barely dipping inside long enough to matter, but then he lapped at your core again. Lips sealing around your clit, he sucked harshly, your back arching up from the bed, your free hand finding purchase tangling in the bedding, and you moaned, loudly. “Fuck, yes, Joel. Just like that.”

He groaned into your body, the feeling reverberating along your skin, and one hand moved from your thigh, slipping along and disappearing from your skin until the tip of one nimble digit was circling your entrance, rubbing lightly across your weeping hole. Filthy sounds were already filling the room, and your mind was going completely blank, the only thing you could process right now was the movements of his mouth against you, tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you crazy as you bucked up into him, holding his face against your core as he slurped and sucked at every drop you had to release.

Slipping that finger into you, he had clearly taken our tip on teasing, because he only sunk it within you to the first knuckle, barely present at all, and yet your walls were clamping around him greedily, desperately trying to draw him deeper in as you felt him twist it a little, circling the finger and beginning to stretch you out, crooking it at the knuckle and tugging a little in your entrance as he began to pump it. A cry of his name left you as he bit down on your swollen clit lightly, the bud throbbing in response, and your entire body jumped at the sensation, loving the way he was taking control with it now.

Each time his finger dipped back into you, he sank a little further, his finger and tongue working in harmony, the same pace with their movements, and your entire body was layered in a thin sheen of shining sweat as he took you apart piece by piece. His hips were grinding down into the covers as he worked, the rustling of the covers giving it away, and he was grunting and growling against your every so often, his eyes closed as he enjoyed his motions just as much as you did, and you forced your hand free from him hair as you realised just how tight your fist had gotten. Just when you thought you might be getting used to this feeling, that you might be able to clear the fog in your mind enough to think straight, he sensed it, upping his ministrations.

“Fuck, Joel!” The coil in your stomach wound up ten times tighter in a matter of seconds as that dull tingling at your entrance made itself known, a second finger taking you by surprise as it plunged inside of you, and your back arched up so high your hips followed, borderline screaming as he picked up his pace. “I-I’m going to-”

“Come? Do it, come on, gorgeous. Give me all you got.” Faster movements, the tandem between his fingers and his mouth going to shit, as he continued to work his fingers in and out of you slowly, but his tongue was picking up his pace again. Switching between sucking and licking, you could barely process what was happening each time, and tears lined your eyes as you felt fire beginning to consume you.

Heat flooded your body, bliss filling every cell in your body and coursing through you until it was all-consuming, and you unravelled against him in a fit of squirming screams, his hands holding you to his mouth as he rode you through the pleasure, two fingers stretching you wide and scissoring you open each time, never giving up on his movements until you couldn't take it anymore.

You pushed him away, panting and gasping for breath, and his eyes were blown with lust as he pulled away, cheeks and chin shining with your arousal, your hand falling over your chest, feeling the erratic beating of your heart under your palm as your eyes closed, trying to contain the way you were feeling. Your throat was already scratchy, growing rough from the calls and cries of his name that you’d released.

“Good?”

“Is that even a question?” You teased, and he collapsed down into the bed beside you, wiping the back of his hand over his jaw, before you leaned in to kiss him, taking his lips with your own, and he let out a needy sound into your mouth as you did. He was rubbing at his jaw, pressing his lips lazily with your own as you kissed him, and he pressed you back down into the bed, leaning over you and letting his body press into yours.

One hand moved to his boxers, pushing them down, kicking them away until they were removed from his body. Leaning over you, a dripping cock brushed along your thigh, your leg raising up a little to rub against him, and he grunted into your mouth, biting down on your lower lip in warning, as he rooted through the nightstand to find a condom. Upon retrieving the package, he sat back on his heels, tearing it with his teeth and throwing the wrapper to the ground, a problem to be dealt with later, and he rolled the rubber along his length.

Long and flushed red, his cock was standing tall and proud, and you rubbed your thighs together a little, watching as he pumped himself slowly, eyes dragging over your body. You could see the cogs working in his mind, before he backed away from you entirely. Moving to the switch on the wall, he turned down the lights, leaving them on a little, but lowering them to a more comfortable level.

“Compromise?”

“I can work with that.” You offered, holding your hands out to him, and the bed bounced a little as he came to laying over the top of you. One leg was pressed between yours, and you shuffled, pressing yourself down against the muscle of his thigh, and a deep sound bubbled up from within him as you rode yourself against his thigh, kissing along his neck, and his head tipped back.

“For the record, I like hickies.”

You paused, a beat passing, before your mouth was sealing over the patch where his neck joined his shoulders, and he groaned loudly as you sucked at the skin harshly. Tipping his head back, his arms trembled a little dipping down until your chests were pressed together, and with every rolled of your core against his leg, your chest dragged over his, the friction making your nipples grown perky, and you whimpered into his neck, lapping at the spot you were abusing.

When you were finished, you pressed a sweet kiss over it, purple already beginning to blossom beneath the splotchy red on his pale skin, and he let out a shaky breath. Brushing your thumb over it, you smirked at the mark you’d made, before finally looking back up to him. Reaching a hand between your bodies, you took his cock in your hand, pumping slowly and watching as his jaw dropped slightly, before you were shifting your legs to accommodate his body and lining his length up at your core.

He rocked forwards, sinking into you slowly, and just like that, everything went fuzzy around you once again. It was like he was your only focus, everything was falling away until it was only him that remained, and your hands found his cheeks, pulling him down to kiss you. You were drowning in his touch, his hips nestled against your own as he gave you a moment to adjust to his size with you, that same twinge of an ache you’d felt this morning coming back in full force, but overpowered by the racing lust that was taking over.

When you felt ready, you clenched around him, curling your hips and feeling his cock shift within you, a gasp falling from you as the head of his cock brushed over your g-spot, and he took that chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Hot and wet, everything felt like it was in overdrive as you lit up, and his hands were pressed into the mattress on either side of your head as he began to shift, hips drawing out of you, before sinking back in, and he took his time, moving slowly and waiting for you to tell him when he could speed up.

Lifting a leg up and onto his hip, he sank even deeper within you, your walls fluttering around him as you let out joint sounds of pure ecstasy, and his movements stuttered for only a moment at the feeling. One hand came down, fingertips digging into the muscle of your thighs so tightly that you’d be speckled with little polka dot bruises come morning, a sinful thought that made you head spin. You felt carefree, for the first time in your life, there was no doubts or anxiety, just the way it felt to be touched and cared for by him, the way his gaze swept so delicately over your face, or the way his lips puckered a little, curling up at the sides in a smile when your mouth pressed to his.

Hooking your hands under his arms, you encouraged him on, nails digging into his skin and dragging tracks into the flesh, his back arching up to push into your touch, and his pace began to pick up. He took his time, building the pace, and you’d never felt like this before. A high you’d never experienced was beginning to set in, your hips moving in time to match his thrusts.

He was panting into your mouth, hot and erotic as your foreheads remained pressed together, his lashes tickling against your cheeks, and every soft moan of your name that he let out made you want to scream out with pure bliss, because the way his voice cracked around your name made everything within you crumble. He made you weak, he made you completely fall apart, and you weren’t sure how or why, yet you found yourself loving it.

It was raw and exposed, your heart and soul open to him, and instead of crushing it like you’d grown to expect from everyone around you, he was taking care of it. You pushed up into him, pleasure surging through you, broken stutters of his name as he fucked into you, hard and fast, driving deep, and the tip of his cock was pressing to your g-spot each time, pinpoint accuracy as you weren't sure if he even knew that he was making stars flash behind your eyes.

“Joel, don’t stop! I’m so close!”

You moved, licking over two fingers, and making to slip them between your bodies to find your clit, to spur your orgasm on as best you could, but as you moved, he lifted a hand, snatching yours in his own and pinning it to the bed, and a loud moan rippled through you from the dominance he asserted. He seemed almost surprised, for only as second, before his brows were raising. “You liked that, huh? Shoulda’ told me.”

“That’s not general advice, you wanted general advice.”

He shook his head, leaning back down to brush the tip of his nose over your own. “Maybe I’d prefer it if you tailored the advice to yourself specifically. Tell me how to drive you wild.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, I like it when you take control of me a little bit.” He nodded his head, seeming to catch on, and he sat back leaving you laying in the bed as the angle changed. Two fingers prodded at your lips, and he raised his brows, waiting for you to draw them into your mouth, wetting the digits thoroughly for him. When he deemed them sufficiently slick, he pulled them back, trailing them down along your body, before pressing down roughly onto the neglected bud between your thighs, crying out for attention to push you over the edge.

As you tumbled into that bliss, he continued going, until your body was jerking and quivering underneath him, and you were crying out his name, clenching so hard around his cock that his head fell back as he gripped at your thigh with his other hand, kneeling between your parted legs and tucked snugly between your spasming walls. “Jeez, you’re so fucking tight.”

He collapsed down over you, sweaty and warm, covering your body with his entirety as he tried to catch his breath, and your eyes were still rolled back in your head, coming back to focus as you slipped back down to earth from the heaven he'd taken you to. “That was incredible.”

“You bet your cute little ass it was.”

You chuckled, feeling him shuffle, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Locking your knees on either side of his hips, you flipped him over, his eyes wide as he found himself on his back, your hand finding his cock as you sank back down, shivering at the feeling as the aftermath of your last orgasm was still racing through you, and he let out a long and deep sound that vaguely resembled your name, hands finding your waist and pulling you the rest of the way down as he fucked up into you.

“You don’t have to, really-”

“You know, you’re pretty much the first guy I’ve ever been with who didn’t come first, and who genuinely cared about my pleasure.” Your nails scratched over his chest a little, making him shudder at your touch, before you were leaning down, hair drawing around you both, and he stared up at you in awe. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

He nodded, a hand tangling toughly in your hair, and he pulled you backwards, sitting up with you in his lap so that your legs could wrap around his waist more fully, your arms looping his neck, holding you as close as he possibly could. You whined at the feeling of your stinging scalp, loving the way he was manhandling you now, and he knew it too, his lips descending to your throat as he used his other hand to guide the movements of your hips.

“Tell me what to do, I don’t go on top a lot. Tell me what’s good, that’s what you’re supposed to do.” You were pleading with him, desperate to know how you could make him feel as good as you’d made him.

“What you’re doing right now is good.” He mumbled, but as you rolled your hips back down into his with what little space there was, his lips moving over your body until he could lean you back, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking one perky bud into his mouth. You cried out his name, his fist tangled into your hair to hold you still, and you tried to form thoughts, your first attempts at speaking coming out as broken stutters.

“Please, Joel..”

“Please what, gorgeous? Tell me what you need.” He cooed the words out, and you let out a desperate sound, your hips slamming down into his, and your hands found his chest, pushing him back into the bed, hearing the rush of breath he let out.

“Tell me what you want.”

He stared at you, blinking those beautiful brown eyes for a second, before giving in. “Honestly, I just want you to ride me like a pornstar. Go fucking wild, it’s so fucking sexy. When your tits bounce, and you slam yourself onto my cock, hair messy and a little sweaty, that's what I want.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly and bracing yourself on his chest, before you moved more solidly onto your knees, beginning to bounce against him. His jaw dropped, watching the movements of your chest, watching as you leaned back to show off the bouncing of your breasts before him as you built your confidence, and after getting past your anxieties, you were faced with the raging build of confidence that came with being on top.

He was staring at you like you’d put the lights in the sky, and you were, for once, glad that there were lights on to see him and for him to see you, to watch every movement you were making, because pure thrill was written on his face, adoration and lust as he stared, before you were taking one of his hands. Dragging it over your body, you sealed his fingers around one of your tits, pushing into his hands when he took control, fingers tweaking with your nipples, and he raised the other to do that same.

You were close, and you could tell he was too, the breathless way that he was beginning to chant your name on repeat, the way you were sure that the feeling of his cock tapping against every spot within you was going to be burned into your mind for the rest of your life, and the look on his face as he finally neared that peak.

“You look so fucking good. Taking what you want, riding me, absolutely perfect up there.”

“Only because that's how you want to see me, right now.” You whispered, and he shook his head, his hands finding your hips, waiting for you to lift yourself up, and as you did, he slammed you back down onto him, meeting you as he fucked up into you, and your body fell forwards in shock, barely catching yourself before your forehead hit his own, breath shared between you once again. His feet adjusted on the bed, bending at the knee to sit flat and he set a brutal pace, driving the both of you towards your final peak and he drilled into you.

Your eyes crossed, vision spotting, and a scream of his name was torn from you with force as you crashed into yet another earth-shattering orgasm at his touch, the sound of his cries of complete joy seeming muffled as he chased after you over the cliff, falling into orgasmic bliss. He rode the pair of you out, strained and weakening movements as your bodies trembled together, until finally, he stopped, completely sent off all energy, and you collapsed against his chest.

His heart was thudding against his chest under your cheek, your nails scratching lightly at the patch of dark hairs between lightly defined pecs, and he wrapped his arms around you. Rolling you to the side, he was reluctant to leave the bed, letting out a loud sound of distaste ta having to do so, but didn’t travel far, simply far enough to undo the rubber on his cock and tie it up, wrapping it in some tissues and dropping the crumpled heap into the bin.

When he came back over, he lay down beside you on his back, one hand under his head and the other stretched out towards you. As you lay on your stomach, shuffling closer to him, you lifted yourself onto your elbows, peering down at him with a small smile. “So, that was, like, the best sex ever. Right?”

You grinned, head ducking to hide the bashful expression you wore, but you were laughing nonetheless. “Ever.”

“I wish all girls were as cool as you. Like, sex would just be so much better if everyone just had that kind of communication, because, holy shit, that was mindblowing.” His hand came up beside his head, making an exploding noise as his fingers made the motion, as though his head really had exploded, and you grinned, feeling his fingers brush over your skin as he lowered it back down.

Quiet fell between you both, but it was comfortable, nice and easy-going, and you weren’t sure how to break the silence now, but neither was he, though it didn’t matter. When the temperatures that had risen in your body during your sinful act began to come back down, you found yourself cold once again, tucking yourself under the blankets and curling in a little closer to him, fingers brushing through his hair to distract yourself as he lay, staring up at you.

“Y’know, you said something, during it all..”

“You told me to give you advice! Don’t get pissy about it now.” Your joke was taken in good spirits, a loud laugh leaving him, and the burning gaze he’d mixed you with was broken for a few moments as his eyes closed to revel in his amusement, but when the laughter died down, he was looking at you again, with just as much intensity.

“Not that. You said you only thought you only looked good because I wanted you to look good.” His hand found your cheek, forcing you to find his gaze as he spoke. “That wasn’t true. You’re so fucking beautiful, and just because one dumbass broke your heart, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t think of yourself as not being worthy. It only leads to more heartbreak. Don’t let his stupid actions take away from your value.”

“You know, you’re real wise on all this stuff.” His thumb brushed over your lips, and you puckered your lips to press a kiss to the pad of the finger. “Who broke your heart, Joel?”

“What makes you think I’ve had my heart broken?”

“Takes one to know one.” You whispered, and he let out a little sigh, gaze trailing off to stare at the ceiling.

“Her name was Aimee. We were together in high-school. We got into different colleges, and I was so sure we could make a long-distance thing work.” You cringed a little, keeping it internal, already guessing where this was going, but letting him talk. “We did phone calls and video chats, and I went to see her so often, every chance I could, in first year. But then second year came, and everything got busy, and I didn’t get to see her as often as I would’ve liked. I was waiting for the summer break to go and see her. When I got there, things were different, she told me it had changed, that she’d fallen for someone else and just didn’t know how to tell me. She figured we’d just fizzle out, that we had been fading. We broke up officially, but, it didn’t hurt her as much as it hurt me.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel.”

“That’s alright.” He murmured, fingers tracing up and down your arm, and you settled into a comfortable quiet once again.

You were hesitant to admit it to yourself, but you were growing rather fond of the man, your hookup having become so much more. The snow, the cold weather, two broken hearts and a stupid hook up site, and suddenly, you’d found someone who had managed to change your life in a lot of little ways, all in just twenty-four hours.

You turned, finding the man already watching you, lips curled up in a sweet smile and eyes lazily drooped, simply watching you as the thoughts and feelings raced through your mind, and yet, under his gaze, they all seemed to go silent. The worries, the constant surge of ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ all faded away, and you reached out a finger, tapping at the tip of his nose.

His expression somehow managed to morph into something even sweeter, practically giving you a toothache as his nose scrunched up adorably, before he was folding both hands under his head, moving to tangle his legs with yours, and simply sighing a little.

Golden and low lighting made his features seemed a little sharper, shadows on his face highlighting his jaw, cheekbones standing prominent and hair darker, and you knew just how soft it was, strands pushed back out of his face by you. The dark mark on his neck was making itself known now, and you were sure your own body would soon be littered in them, and you would check them all out with pride in the morning.

You turned to look at him again, drawing yourself back out of the spiral in your mind you’d once again fallen victim to, and meeting his gaze with a heatless huff. “What are you staring at?”

“Just.. you.” His brows pulled together a little, eyes sweeping across your face again in a way that made you feel raw and on the edge of your emotions. He lifted a hand, pushing your hair away behind your ears, before settling a hand over your jaw, and stroking his thumb across your skin slowly and soothingly.

“Yeah, well, don’t.” You whispered, voice cracking, and your gaze left his, but his touch never fell away, even when you tried to duck your head. “Don’t look at me like that, not unless you plan to act on it.”

“Oh, I would love to act on it. When this snow melts, I’d like to act on it properly.”

“Like.. a date?” You questioned, eyes flicking up to his for only a moment, and he was beaming what you did, toothy smile showing off his joy for only you to see.

“Exactly like a date, if you’ll have me?”

“Depends.” You murmured, shuffling in closer to him for warmth. “Can I share the bed with you tonight, or are you kicking me back out to the couch?”

He wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you down into his chest as the pair of you laughed, cocooning yourselves in the blankets with a series of rolls and twists, until you pressed up tightly together and locked in such a way. “There, now you’re not going anywhere.” He dipped down, pressing a kiss to your lips, one that you were eager to reciprocate. “Me and the bed are all yours, gorgeous.”

“I like the sound of that.”

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 01 / all for us

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

word count: +2.0k

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

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

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

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

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

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

erwin thought you were a beauty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"food," that's all you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i don't want to be fed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"rather die than be fed like a child."

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

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

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

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

"you can."

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

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

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

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

[andguesswhat]

The fool on the hill - Chapter 8

This is a thankless chapter but it still had to be written. So here we go...

I’m fine

*

And then everything was overshadowed by a ominous virus. 

It was on the news and in their minds. 

They talked about it, discussed it, tried to evaluate it with each new piece of information they got, tried to classify it, they weighed all scenarios, they talked about every goddamn disaster movie that came to their minds. 

They were worried. About their families, their friends, themselves.

And finally it was certain they had to stop fliming and take a break. 

The crew was sent home. 

Owen went back to Santa Monica. And Tom could understand. Owen wanted to be there for his kids and needed to see his brothers. 

Tom himself decided to stay in Atlanta. He liked being here and somehow he felt safer than being in busy, overcrowded London. 

Well, like almost everybody else he thought that yes, this virus was horrible but it would only take a few weeks and then they could go back to working.  

So Tom went for jogs, went for walks with Bobby, he read, he talked to friends and his family on the phone, he watched movies, he cooked and he read some more… 

But the virus was still there.

And like almost everybody else Tom somehow got used to it. So his worrying thoughts about this pandemic got less and made room for more conventional thoughts… or at least thoughts about Owen.   

Yes, Owen… of course, about Owen. 

Their contact had been more or less non-existing. 

Sure, Tom had texted Owen and asked him if he was alright. But Owen more or less had just replied with “Yeah I’m fine. How are you?” 

Okay, he did write a bit more but still… It wasn’t enough for Tom. He felt demoted to being a colleague, an acquaintance like others, whereas his longing for Owen had gotten even worse. 

He missed him. He missed him sooo sooo much. 

Missed talking to him, laughing with him… and just being near him. 

And far too often his thoughts went to their encounter on that hill. 

He on top of Owen, their hard-ons pressed together, Owen grabbing his ass, pulling up his leg… 

Sometimes Tom even got a hard-on just thinking about that and he would grab a cushion to groan his frustration into. He didn’t want to be the one getting desperate.  

So when he jerked off under the shower he tried to think about 1000 different hot guys but not Owen. Because thinking about Owen was just too pathetic. 

And it hurt so much when Tom slowly had to realize that they apparently weren’t on the same level. 

Because when they were… Owen would call him, right?

He knew Owen wasn’t the guy to text long messages. 

But he could have called, right?

They could flirt on the phone, send each other naughty pics… 

Okay, Tom hadn’t called him either. He didn’t dare because he was afraid to interrupt something. Maybe Owen was with his kids. 

At some point Tom got worried if Owen was really okay, if his mood got worse and he didn’t want to tell Tom, so he wrote him again. But again everything he got was “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for caring. I hope, you are fine, too.” I was just damn frustrating. 

The weeks went by and Tom got more and more moody. 

He always thought of himself as a guy that had no problems being alone. He actually liked being alone. Having his space, not having to make arrangements with anyone, not having to take anyone into consideration. He always could do what he wanted, when he wanted. 

But now in this pandemic with almost zero contact to others… while others were with their families…. it buggered him badly. (And maybe, just maybe, he had gotten a little too comfortable having Owen around.)

When he ran, he wished Owen would run by his side. When he finished a book, he wanted to tell Owen about it and ask what he had been reading, when he cooked he wanted to cook for two. 

But who was he to complain?

The world was in turmoil…

But he was healthy.

He had Bobby to keep him company.

He was fine. 

*

And then.. 

… he wasn’t fine anymore. 

“He… fucking... grabbed… my ass!” he growled into the phone.

Zawe laughed. “Yeah, you already told me…”

“Yeah… I’m sorry... But why, why isn’t he calling? … Or texting?” Anything actually!

For a couple of days now Zawe had to listen to his whining about fucking mean Owen that wouldn’t call him, wouldn’t send him flirty messages (or dirty pics, but he didn’t say that to Zawe, he had to maintain at least a little dignity). 

“And how is this supposed to work anyway? Am I supposed to make him unhappy so we can be together?” He was really upset. 

“You know that it doesn’t work like this,“ Zawe tried to calm him down. “He just has to get used to liking you. And you know that.”

Tom sighed. “Yeah…” Yes, he knew. 

Still…! 

He was so … frustrated.  “I think he is getting used to forgetting about me.” He didn’t even care that he sounded like a pouting teenager in love. 

“Maybe you just have to tell him, you were Rear of the Year. Maybe this gets his attention… ” Zawe burst out laughing. 

Tom just groaned. 

He knew Zawe just wanted to cheer him up. But it didn’t work.  

“I can’t remember telling you that!” he growled. “Who told you?”

Zawe apparently didn’t want to expose the traitor right away so she said, “Who said that I don’t follow this award?” But Tom wasn’t even close to comment on that. 

“Okay,” Zawe capitulated. “It was Josie…”

“I’ll keep that in mind…” Tom tried to answer mockingly but it sounded all wrong. 

“I wonder… Did you get a trophy for that?” Zawe’s voice was still way too cheerful. He wished he could joke with her but he just wasn’t in the mood for it. 

“Don’t make it more ridiculous than it is,” he said with a sigh. There were things in his past he didn’t want to be reminded of. 

At least Zawe apparently gave up trying to lighten his mood.  

“How about I come and visit you?” she asked after a pause. Her voice sounded kind of worried so Tom had the urge to refute that. 

“I’m fine. You don’t have to come.”

“Yeah, I still want to. I want to see you, want to talk to you, face to face... I’ll book a flight for this weekend.”

Tom loved the idea of having Zawe here with him but this was still… “You don’t have to do this. It’s a long flight… There is still a risk you get infected… I’m fine-“

“Thomas William Hiddleston,” Zawe interrupted him firmly, “if you want a baby with me, you have to respect my decisions. And that is one of them. I’m coming to Atlanta this weekend.”

And Tom had to admit Zawe’s decision was worth gold. 

The minute she arrived everything was way easier to handle. 

She stayed for a couple of weeks and they had a wonderful time. It was so relaxed and comfortable that on their last evening together, as they lay on the couch watching a movie, after another day full of relaxed conversations and good cooking, Tom wondered why the hell they couldn’t be in love with each other. Everything would be so much easier, wouldn’t it? 

But love was never easy. It always hurt. Before and after and sometimes in between. 

*

Somehow time passed and in September they were finally able to continue filming. 

Owen called him a few days before and Tom didn’t know what to feel. On the one hand he was tremendously excited and his heart wanted to beat faster. But on the other hand, he was disillusioned and sad that Owen apparently didn’t have as much feelings for him as Tom had for him.  

But Owen probably didn’t realize any of that anyway, because he was constantly talking. He had big news to tell: Luke would also be shooting in Atlanta and they already got a place where they both could stay. Tom was happy for Owen but he was afraid that this would change too much between them. He doubted that they would still spend so much time together when Luke was around.

“Man, it’s so good to hear your voice! I’ve missed it,” he heard Owen drawl on the other side of the phone, all cheerful. 

Tom rolled his eyes and tried not to sound too reproachful when he said, “You could have had that earlier if you had called me.” …once.

“I knooow, I’m sorry,” Owen replied and his tone hadn’t lost a milligram of his cheerfulness. “But we see each other on Monday, right?! Can’t wait to see you!” 

Tom sighed. It felt so good to hear Owen. He didn't want to, but he knew he couldn’t stay mad at him for long. 

And for what anyway?

Either you love someone or you don’t. He couldn’t make Owen fall in love with him if he wasn���t. Even if he wished he could.

So for the next days Tom tried to push his longing aside and was just happy that he was going to see Owen again.  And he didn’t even had to wait until Monday. On Sunday Owen called again to invite Tom over to their place to have dinner. 

Their embrace was long and warm, and it felt good. And even though Tom was sad deep down, his smile was genuine. He loved seeing Owen, seeing him laugh, hearing his drawl… he had missed him so much.

He was surprised that actually everything felt like there hadn’t been horrible six months in between, everything felt like it used to be. Well, before their incident on the hill that was.

But it was a really nice evening; Tom could not say it otherwise. Luke was lovely. And Owen seemed proud of his brother being here and that Tom could finally meet him.

They talked, they laughed and Tom tried to ignore the occasional twinge in his heart whenever he would look at Owen for a second too long. Wishing secretly he would lie with him on the sofa, counting his eyelashes.

“He was so proud that I finally got to meet you,” Luke winked at him, when Owen went into the kitchen to get some drinks. “He has so much respect for you.”

Tom tried to smile.

It was nice to hear that and to know that it was the other way around then he had thought… that it was important to Owen to introduce him to Luke.

But deep down, it hurt.

Because it seemed that sometimes everything wasn’t enough to make someone fall in love with you.

When they hugged to say goodbye for the night, Owen looked at Tom attentively …

“Everything okay with you?”

Tom pressed his lips together before he answered.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“Oh wait! I forgot…” Owen jumped back in and came back with a slightly tattered book in his hand that he handed to Tom.

“This is the one book I was talking to you about. The other one is apparently on Maui.” He grinned. “So you have to come and visit me there to get it.”

And even if Tom didn’t want to, he grinned back. “Thanks.”

He was moved that Owen had remembered.

“Sure… Good to see you, man” Owen’s smile was soft now and Tom hated himself for falling for him so easily again. He wished he wouldn’t get his hopes up again but he was afraid it was already too late for that.

“Glad you’re back…” he finally managed to say. “See you tomorrow on set.”

And with that he turned and disappeared into the night.

Yeah, he was fine.

At least he would be, somehow.

*

[waezi2]

Re-reading Yu-Gi-Oh (part 1)

So... I bitch a lot about Yu-Gi-Oh. When I don’t complain about it online and accuse it of scamming kid me, I ridicule the story and the many holes in the game rules.

But I actually used to love this manga with a burning passion. I bought it because I was fixated with the cards, but instead I got traumatized. In an awesome way.

So I decided to re-read the manga about the possibly best known TCG game in the world and see how it started, how it evolved, and if the story still holds up.

So, I’m reading chapter 1, and we have to talk about the art.

The art style at the beginning was chunky and sometimes downright awkward. But it was still very enjoyable. The characters were very expressive and the tone of the style could swing quickly from wacky and rubberhose like to eerie and brooding depending on the situation. It makes you forgive odd-looking legs and hands that becomes massive. It is clear that it is someone’s first project.

So, this is Yugi. Possibly the cutest and meekest punk kid who ever lived. Yugi is not an outdoor person, so he spends most of his recesses inside the classroom. He brings a ton of games to school, hoping that someone might wanna play with him, but all of his classmates prefer to go outside and do stuff like basketball. And being a short teenager who practically looks like a little boy means he is not a desirable team mate in any ball game.

This is totally just a theory, but I think Yugi’s signature punk hairstyle is his way of trying to look a bit more edgy to try do something about his cute appearance.

... Yeah, it’s not working. He still looks like a fricking Gummibear.

As Yugi is minding his own business, we meet two familiar faces.

... their names are actually Jounouchi and and Honda, but most people know them by their American names, so I will just refer to them as Joey and Tristan. 

It’s so odd to see their old designs. Especially Joey since his hair is not as big and square like as it is today. And what the fuck is up with Tristan’s face?!

Anyways, while Yugi decides to play with the most valuable game in his collection, Joey and Tristan decides to mess with him. They make an interesting bully duo where Tristan is more loud and is clearly having more fun bothering Yugi who is too short to put up a fight while Joey seems more stoic and is almost annoyed by Yugi for being a pushover. He even tells Yugi to be a man about it and at least try and take the game back from him by force. So while Tristian just enjoys picking on Yugi for the heck of it, Joey seems to sincerely dislike Yugi.

Luckily, Yugi doesn’t have trouble with bullies as such since he is friends with Tea who is so tough that she actually intimidate Joey and Tristan with sheer attitude. That’s actually impressive.

... A shame she is most of the time just the damsel in distress.

Tea is the only person in class who hangs out with Yugi since they have been friends since kindergarten. And she doesn’t mind staying inside at all since a ton of the guys are jerks who only wanna play basketball with the girls since it gives them an opportunity to look up their skirts.

Yeah, there is a lot of that in this manga. Most of the males in this series are kinda horny. the humor often relies on it, which downright creepy at times.

Even Yugi finds basketball more appealing now that he knows about the skirt-looking.

Lewd panty-shot aside, I think it is a nice detail that Yugi is as pathetic as the rest of the dudes in school, he probably just doesn’t have the courage to try get a look. It makes him less of a pure hero.

Altight, let’s stop talking about Yugi being a closet creep:/

Yugi shows Tea what his greatest treasure is: A LITTERAL treasure.

Yep, this is the famous Millennium Puzzle, practically the mascot of the series. It’s an ancient puzzle found in an pyramid that Yugi got from his grandfather who runs a game store. The puzzle is extremely valuable, both because it is from ancient Egypt and it is made of gold.

... And Yugi brings it to school where Tristan and Joey pushes him around...

Yugi has been struggling with the puzzle for eight years despite being a game nerd. Even though it is a blow to his not that big ego, he keeps trying to solve it since the box says that if he will be granted a wish if he manage to solve the puzzle.

Meanwhile, Joey and Tristan makes the fatal mistake of talking about picking on Yugi while Ushio is close enough to hear it. He is the school’s hall monitor and rumor has it that he is downright psychotic and is feared by most of the students. Heck, some of the teachers are uncomfortable being near him.

And this guy has decided to become Yugi’s bodyguard, something poor Yugi doesn’t take serious when Ushio tells him that.

Joey and Tristan are unaware how screwed they are as they keep having their fun bothering Yugi without our hero knowing it. Joey managed to steal a piece from the puzzle box before Tea interrupted, and Joey decides to throw the piece in the school’s swimming pool so that the puzzle becomes worthless as it can no longer be solved. I gotta say, that is pretty twisted and surprisingly sneaky of a teen bully. It’s downright creepy.

Speaking of creepy...

This is Yugi’s grandfather Sugoroku. He runs the game shop that Yugi lives in and is a living encyclopedia when it comes to games of all sorts.

And he can’t just tell Tea that she has grown. He HAS to mention her breasts as well. Da fuck is up with all the sex talk and panty shots in this series?! Does Kazuki Takahashi(the author) have some sort of issues?!

Yugi’s grandfather notices that Yugi is STILL trying to solve the ancient puzzle and warns Yugi that the puzzle is supposedly cursed. That the archeologist and his team died mysteriously shortly after finding the puzzle and the last one to kick the bucket said something about a “shadow game” with his dying breath.

That however makes Yugi even more determent to solve the puzzle. If it really is magical then chances are that he will be granted a wish by completing the puzzle.

Personally, I would call the nearest museum and sell the dang thing before it could kill me with it’s insane cursed magic.

Speaking of insane, Yugi realizes that he should have taken Ushio serious when he said he would be his bodyguard.

Yep, the SOB has dragged Joey and Tristan behind the school building and kicked their asses through and through. Tristan is in so much pain that he is barely conscious and Joey is so pummeled that all he can do is watch as Yugi shows how surprisingly brave he is as he demands that Ushio leaves them alone, even refer to them as his friends and that they were just trying to make him a man.

Yeah, picking on someone because they are too timid and demanding that they fight you despite knowing that they hat violence is the right way to make someone a man. Hip hooray for toxic masculinity!

Yugi defending Joey and Tristan results in him getting a beating as well.

One of the interesting things about early Yu-Gi-Oh is the raw and ugly violence. We talking dirty violence where people get kneed in the chest and kicked while they lie down. Not just off-screen, we witness our heroes be pummeled, making the series a bit more gritty and frightening. And this series is not for those with a weak stomach.

Joey is stunned, partly because Yugi defends him, but way more of the short spiky-haired kid’s courage. But Yugi is anything but afraid. After all, he refused to fight Joey, but he still tried to get the puzzle back(not successfully, but he made an effort instead of just squirming).

After Ushio finished kicking poor Yugi’s ass, he tells him to bring him money as “payment” for his “bodyguard service.” And we talking 200000 yen, that’s a lot of dough.

Ushio even pulls a god damn knife(!), just to show how fucking crazy he is!

Yugi goes home to see if he has money enough to pay Ushio, but he only has 1656 yen. In frustration, Yugi decides to solve his unsolvable puzzle, just to think of something else than the brute with a knife who is waiting for him at school.

But what do you know? Yugi finally get the hang of it. He sees that some of the pieces just needs to be rotated differently and he finish it in a couple of minutes.

... Or he WOULD have. He finally sees that one of the pieces are missing, breaking his heart and making his awful day even worse.

But Grandpa has the last piece. He tells Yugi that one of his friends from school had found it and asked him to give it to Yugi. And that he was soaked despite it not raining.

As Yugi is happy about being able to finish the puzzle and returns to his room, his grandpa thinks about that the boy was Joey and that he asked him not to tell Yugi it was him that came with the puzzle piece. Joey also told him about Ushio blackmailing Yugi, so Grandpa secretly puts money in Yugi’s schoolbag so he won’t get in trouble.

And this is where it get’s freaky.

Yep, here it is. the iconic moment Yugi gets blessed by the puzzle so that he can turn into the split personality we refer to as Yami which is Japanese for “Dark”.

Yugi then calls Ushio and tells him to meet him outside school at midnight.

Ushio is surprised as he sees that Yugi is wearing some sort of costume and that he looks way more cocky than before.

Yugi tells Ushio that he has the money he demands, but he has twice the amount. Fricking 400000 yen!

But Yugi only “owes” 200000 to Ushio, so he suggest that they play about them in a dark and twisted game.

Yugi and Ushio take turns stabbing the stack of money placed on their hand. They have to stab hard enough to take more than one single bill. The winner is the guy with most yen bills.

As they play, Ushio seems to be winning... but when it is his turn, he can feel that his hand is way too eager to stab.

This is not just a weird-ass game. This is a “shadow game”, a game that shows your true nature. Ushio’s greed is now collected in his hand, and he so desperately want to win the game that he can’t control it. He realizes that if he stabs, he won’t be able to control his strength and he will penetrate his own hand. Ushio has to either A) give up and keep his hand or B) win the game with one hand less.

Ushio picks C.

Ushio tries to kill Yugi, but that was a mistake. The puzzle has made him super human and he leaps from the ground, evading the knife.

And cheating in a shadow game is a big no-go as the host of the game has authority to punish you.

Yami Yugi curses Ushio with “Illusion of Greed”, meaning he will be doomed to live in an imaginary world where he sees nothing but money everywhere.

Next morning, he is still outside the schoolyard like a drooling idiot who yells about all of his imaginary money.

Yugi has no memory of what happened but is glad he no longer has to be worried of Ushio who is a harmless nutcase. Not only that, he has finally finished his puzzle... and Joey offers him his friendship.

And that was the start of the horror manga turned card game commercial. It has a lot of charm, is very eerie and I think I prefer Yami Yugi’s first look that is more child like. making him look downright creepy.

This retrospective will continue ASAP.

Till then, I’m Waezi2, and thanks for wasting time with me.

[poisonous-widow]

One Step Forward, Three Steps Back

A/n: Hello everyone! I am back!

So ya'll remember my last bnha angst called 'Good Enough?'. Well I've re-made it to this beaut right here! I'm hoping this will be a short Fan fiction probably 10 chaps be the max (Hopefully) or even lower is possible \(0w0)/. They won't be adults in this one, still in UA and yes - the angst will be there. My Oc will be the main of this, but Y/n is apart, yes that's right - you guys are in this (Don't worry! You aren't the bad guy.......maybe).

I've also made this because I fell in love with Olivia Rodrigo's songs, the ones that I can relate to especially. And for this as well. I hope you enjoy this and tell me what you think in the end.

- Love you guys!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: Cheating, Angst, Crying, fluffy fluff fluff!! 

Additional info: Music videos/audios may be involved (Not in this one) 

Main Characters: Katsuki Bakugou, Amicia Mizuki

Ages: 17-18yrs (Depending on other characters as well and their year)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER ONE - I still love you

~~~~~~~~~~~

We shared many memories. Love...

She’s been humming tunes in her dorm for the past thirty minutes. Cooped up in the corner of her bed, messy blankets, plushies and four pair of legs tangled together. Amicia cackles lightly, long thick lashes kiss her cheeks, lifting her novel she was currently reading - grazing her light forest green hues to her spiky blonde love. Katsuki releases a long deep breath, his head snugged into the thick comfy padding of his girlfriends thighs, rubbing his head further into her when he felt her cackles.

"What are you laughing at..." He grumbled out, a little muffled since he's laying on his side. Squishing his other face cheek.

Amicia giggled. It sounded so calm to his ears, soothing.

"Nothing~" Amicia mused, a smile playing at her lips as she moved her book to one hand, bringing the other down to caress his tuffs of hair. She gently scratched at his scalp with her nails, caressing in long strokes. She heard another long breath release out of him, the weight of katsuki falling onto her thighs.

There was a shift of movement and Amicia moved her hand, allowing Katsuki to roll himself on his back, eye-lids opening to those crimson daring eyes. "Don't lie to me shitty woman..". Amicia pouted, poking his nose in response. "Don't call me that".

"But you are a shitty woman" He smirked, seeing small fumes appear.

"You’re a shitty man then!" Amicia crossed her arms, looking down at her love with pouting lips and a frown that he would never admit was too fucking cute. He rolled again, this time on his stomach. Arms latched themselves around Amicia's waist, causing her to get a small shock. Katsuki looked up at her, crimson meeting green - summer rays swirling the gold speckles secretly hidden within the glimmering emerald.

Katsuki buried himself into her abdomen, kissing her stomach making Amicia yelp. "Katsuki..!" She squeaked in alarm, her hand touching his head with a tenderness he drowned himself in every moment they got like this. He looked up only to quickly kiss her again, grumpily groaning when she tried to push him away - only for the heavy male to halfway lay himself across her soft pudgy body. "What are you.." Amicia rubs his head, confused.

'You are my shitty woman, mine only." He groaned muffly. This made Amicia stop what she was going to do next. That small spark of shock - forming into love. "I love you too Katsuki" She smiled and hugged his laying body lovingly.

It's a cool night outside, but the room felt oddly hot. Warm candle-light fluttered against the tan wallpaper of katsuki's dorm room that scattered around the large shared futon splayed on the ground.

...Want...

Katsuki sat on the futon, arms wrapped around Amicia's waist. She was on top of him, her knees locked on either side as she slightly hoisted herself a bit taller. Their eyes closed in the moment and lips mounding into bliss, Amicia held katsuki's face as he securely held her in his arms. Parting away to breathe, eyes locking together in a mixture of colours and emotions only they seemed to understand without the need of words.

She peppered and nuzzled his face with tenderness, He kissed her neck and bare shoulder with fierceness. Sighs and contentment settled into her as katsuki removed more of her button shirt to nip at the flesh of her neck.

“Hey..!” She jerked away, opening her eyes and looking over to her shoulder where she could see the way his tongue slid across his row of teeth with that heavy smirk. Amicia shook her head, a smirk of her own appearing when she tugged the back roots of his ash-blonde hair into a small fist, causing a low grunt hiss to snake out of his mouth. “You little sh-”  “Don’t ruin the mood my love~” She kissed a finger to his mouth - angered eyes - turning hooded and heavy. 

Katsuki rolled to the side, toppling over Amicia where she laid on her back, he on top this time.”I hate you...” , She giggled at his words, sighed when he kissed her neck and further down a of his warmth. “I hate you so much, you do this to me...” He breathed against her warm honey skin. 

“I love you too...” She smiles with closed crescent eyes. 

The moment stops when his phone-screen turns on. A message, unknown. Who is it from. She goes to read....he pushes her away and takes the phone - but she had seen the name. 

“Get out. GET THE HELL OUT NOW!!” He shoves her out. 

...Hate....

A glass jar went flying across the kitchen of their shared apartment...

It smashes. There’s more screaming. Words flying at each other, next thing there is something more than verbal - physical.

It’s cold again. 

Katsuki thrusts an explosion attack towards Amicia. It’s aggressive and filled with tendency to hurt - a lot. She dodges it, barely. She’s scared but she still fights for her ground. She refuses to cry and be weak to him. “YOU LIAR!! YOU FUCKING LIAR!!” She reaches him, punches him square in the nose. “YOU SAID SHE WAS JUST A FRIEND!”  She wailed, her throat hurts. her head is throbbing. 

“I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! DOES IT MEAN NOTHING TO YOU!?” Amicia clenched where her heart was buried underneath all that flesh, muscle and bone. Tears flooding down like two large blobs of streams.

“I HATE YOU!! I FUCKING HATE YOU AMICIA MIZUKI!!” 

Blood and water stains the floor-boards. 

“If you hate me that much...Then we are over” 

 ...Betrayal...

She’s cold again. 

She felt exposed - naked - even.

Mina hugged her side, the warmth radiating off her pink skin made the honey toned woman comfortable - just a bit - she smiled appreciatively. She was the first to know and your sister Y/n. The other girls who cared enough to visit her dorm in the time of need she really needed them. Then came the boys: Kaminari,sero and deku squad knew first. Then kirishima, he was last because Amicia knew that kirishima was Ka-Bakugou’s best-friend. He hugged her, she cried. 

It’s only been a few days since the break-up. She left their shared apartment and lived with her best-friend. However, the news spread like wild-fire throughout UA - nosy bunches they all are. Amicia hugged her arms as she walked through the long hallways, eyes staring and mouths whispering. 

For the next few days, they all tried to cheer her up:

“Let’s do this, get your mind off things!” 

“You’ll feel better without him, promise” 

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaa! Leeeet’s gooo steeal Mr. Aizawaa’s Beean-Baaag~!”

“Cm’on gurl! Sing for me, i miss that voice of yours” 

“Mizuki-chan...mutter mutter...and then...mutter mutter” 

It was hard. At first. But she managed to smile at least, her heart feeling lighter little by little each day. Amicia could run and chase her friends again. Laugh, cry, cheer, scream. But everyone now and then, she would look over her shoulder to spot any ash-blonde spikes in the distance - none - heart throbbing. She still misses him, the break of a heart still cracking in her chest.

...And the most painful...

Two weeks passed and Amicia feels a little more ‘normal’. Her head is held high, a smile on her face and her walk strides in a soft rhythm. She softens to a stop, green jewels wide as she stares ahead. 

Spiky ash-blonde hair in the distance, baggy clothing and that oh-so-knowing posture spewing ‘dominance’. Crimson eyes, a cold and bored gaze.

Her heart thumps in her chest, her feels for him pulsing at the sight of him. They stare at each other for a long moment. Colours mixing again - like before. She snaps out of when she sees a bob of brown hair, pink chubby cheeks and beautiful big chocolate brown eyes comes closer. 

Katsuki Bakugou.

Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou’s new girlfriend. 

She stops just a few steps behind him, waiting for him to go to her. Bakugou still has his eyes on Amicia. There is a look in her eyes that bakugou can’t seem to read. Same to Amicia. She goes to open her mouth to speak but she purses them and closes her eyelids shut. Sucking in a shaky breath, Amicia straightens her back and lifts her chin, fingers splayed across her heart. She opens her eyes again. 

She smiles, lovingly, softly. It scares Bakugou - just a little - only a little. She mouths something. He turns and leaves with his new girl, through the doors of UA and out of sight. She watched them go - him - go. Her hand drops to her side. Her lip is quivering. She purses it when she hears Y/n call her from behind. 

“Hey! You good lil’ sis?” They look at you, leaning beside you. 

Amicia turns her head, glistening emerald eyes sparkling with sun rays. 

“Yes. Let’s get to class before Mr. Aizawa gives us a detention” 

...Acceptance...

" I still love you "

- Amicia Mizuki

______________________________________

Thank you for reading!

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Indicted.”

Working on a new arc for the story. I hope you enjoy :)

Dr Krill was up late, but then again, he was usually up late. Unlike the humans he didn’t sleep, and that left him at least eight hours of the day to himself to be engrossed in his studies, a time which he cherished. Granted there were occasions when emergencies would happen and he would be forced to attend to them, but those were few and far between these days.

Ever since the Burg war had ended, there hadn’t been much danger to the galaxy, and the Omen spent most of its time fulfilling its exploratory duties.

He spent a good portion of his time hunkered in the back office of the medical bay, but on occasion he'd like to take walks around the ship at night comforted by the darkness. The days had long since past when he was afraid of the humans, and he actually found the ship to be comforting and safe during the night. Granted Conn was sometimes a nuisance, but nothing that he couldn’t handle generally.

He was just walking past the command deck when he heard footsteps on their way down the hall.

He assumed it was one of the night crew coming down from fixing a problem up on the bridge, but was surprised when light passed over a familiar face. The two of them stopped staring at each other.

Admiral Vir paused in the hallway a duffel bag in one hand, his neatly pressed uniform glittering dimly in the light above. A few colorful swatches on the left hand side of his chest was the only color that distinguished him in the middling darkness.

Waffles -- the dog -- sat quietly at his side, panting softly. 

“Admiral….”

“Doctor…”

“Going somewhere?”

Krill watched as the man’s fingers curled slowly around the bag, “I have some… business to attend to back on earth.I already talked with Simon about it, and I am going to allow her to  take command of the ship while I am away.”

Krill took a long hard look at the human. 

There was something strange about him, something you could only understand if you were another human or if you had spent hours and hours studying them and spending time with then.

“Is something wrong?”

The man shook his head, though his single eye was… sad.

“No Krill, everything is fine.”

“Would you…. Like sme company?” he knew it was a longshot. If Adam really wanted some company, than surely he would already have asked Sunny to come with him.

The man opened his mouth, closed it and looked round. Krill was surprised that the man actually seemed to be considering his offer. Eventually he sighed, 

“I would…. Appreciate it…. Dr.”

Krill was surprised, but nodded and simply requested a few minutes to leave a note for Dr. katie. The Admiral willingly obliged the request, and efoe long they were on their way, stepping out of the cargo ramp and onto the -- mostly quiet-- cargo deck of the Europa station.

For the longest moment it was only the sound of feet echoing over the metal flooring before Krill finally had to speak up, “What is all of this about Adam, leaving secretly in the middle of the night, leaving your ship in the hands of a rookie officer… not telling Sunny. I think you can see why I am worried.”

Admiral Vir sighed and then inclined his head, the gold threading on the top of his officer’s cap glittering in the dim overhead light.

“There is something I need to do… and I don’t think Sunny would understand. I also don’t think that it would be a  good idea to bring her.

Krill tilted his head in curiosity and concern, “Are you two ok?”

Adam shrugged and sighed, “I…. well…. I don’t know. Most times it feels like we are, and at other times we just…. Aren’t. I think that is supposed to be normal, but there are things about each other that we just don’t understand sometimes.”

“That would make sense considering your species.”

He shrugged, “I guess. Either way I needed to do this myself, and I… needed a break…. That sounds horrible, and now how I meant it but I…. well whatever.”

The two of them walked down the nearest hallway to the launch bay on the other side of the hall. It was a little more crowded here, mostly officers and other crew members with their suitcases and bags, wearing their uniforms and standing in line to board a smaller ship. The ship would be a class D-1 ship with a small warp core on board.

As he approached, eyes fell on them as they usually did. Men and women in uniform saluted and parted ways to allow the two of them to pass as they made their way towards the shuttle. The Admiral refused to head to the front and stopped at the back of the line to wait patiently. No one spoke to them, but there sure were plenty of staring eyes.

The admiral handed his bag off to one of the cargo officers before boarding the ship with Krill. Waffles was taken with them too, and placed into a crate. She didn’t seem pleased about it but went willingly. It was likely that she was going to have to be put to sleep for the warp, which Krill almost envied. It was a cramped fit, though due to his status, they were allowed to sit in the roomier seats at the front. Bright lights beamed down on them from above as the pilot came over the intercom preparing them for warp.

“Thank you for boarding the trans-space flight to Lunar 1. Our approximate flight time will be ten minutes arriving at 12:45 local time. Please make sure to fasten your seatbelts. Officers and passengers with cardiac dysfunctions, lung disease, or high blood pressure are advised against taking this flight. If you fit into any of these categories please let a flight officer know for your safety and comfort. To the front of your seat you will find airsickness bags, and a safety card. Please take a few minutes to review the safety card before the launch.”

Admiral vir pulled the straps tight over his shoulders and pulled off his cap to rest it gently in his lap.

On the other row beside them another officer already had their eyes closed and was taking a few long-deep breaths.

“One last warning before launch, we will warn you that this is a D-1 Class warp core and does not have any internal dampening. Side effects of launch include, vomiting, dizziness, confusion, blackout, loss of bladder control and heart palpitations. These side effects are expected and the cabin has been designed to deal with these issues, however if you do not feel comfortable continuing we advise you to exit the aircraft immediately.”

Adam leaned back in his seat eyes shut.

Krill gripped the harness waiting for the moment to come.

Adam almost looked peaceful. No one got off the ship and after a few more minutes of waiting, the cabin lights dimmed and the ship rose into the air. As soon as they were shot out of the airlock, the gravity field was gone, and he could feel his body beginning to float against the harnesses. Admiral Vir had to hold his hat in palace as they accelerated into the night.

They traveled for a good five minutes before warning lights began blinking overhead.

“Prepare the cabin for warp.”

All around him the humans were preparing themselves for the violent folding of space. A few leaned down to tuck their head between their knees in a crash position.

He sort of wish he hadn’t agreed to come.

Adam just took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat.

“Launch in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”

Krill fet the universe around him collapse inward and then suddenly expand outward. Things that were far away seemed close and things that were close seemed far away. He jerked against his harness, and just like that it was over.

That didn’t mean his head wasn’t spinning, and all around the cabin he could hear the  groaning of the other humans.

Once he could finally see and tell what he was seeing, he looked over at the Admiral who looked none the worse for war in comparison to some of the other officers.

One poor woman was as white as a sheet and holding a bag in front of her for dear life. Some of the others were in similar states of distress.

Admiral vir just smiled and leaned over to Krill whispering, “Not nearly as bad as the first interstellar warp. I thought I was going to die.”

Krill believed him

Just outside the window they watched as the Earth’s single moon drifted closer and closer, growing large in their field of vision as they stopped to land on the glowing white lunar surface. They disembarked inside the atmospheric bubble and were ushered onto another shuttle that headed down for earth. Despite earth being closer, this trip took much longer, about an hour longer, warping past the worst of the debris field which was still being cleaned by drag ship.

They landed at two in the morning local time at Fort Harmony.

As they stepped off the shuttle, bags in tow, there were already two military men waiting for them on the platform with a mat black hover car. Waffles’s crate was rolled out with them, though it seemed as if she was still asleep. 

They saluted as he approached, “Admiral.”

He nodded to them, “Gentlemen.”

One of them opened the car door, and the Admiral stepped inside, while the other took his bag to place it in the back.

Krill floated up to sit beside him watching as the vehicle slowly accelerated and rolled through the darkness, lights of the nearby city and civilization glowing in the darkness. Streetlights passed overhead, casting the human’s brooding face into sharp relief one moment and into almost complete blackness the next.

“Are you going to tell me where we are going?” krill wondered 

The admiral didn’t look at him, instead looking down at his hands. There was a long pause where Krill thought he wasn't going to answer, before, “I got a call from Admiral Kelly last night.”

Krill waited.

“Last month, extend documents on Operation Steel Eye were leaked. The UNSC tried to declassify them before it became more of an issue, but by then it was too late. The files were leaked onto the web by some unknown source and that included all video, Audio and written footage of the testing as well as documentation from the war itself.” Krill was surprised, extremely surprised that he had not heard more about this, and sooner,, but he stayed quiet as Adam continued, “UNSC officers in term during the project and a few members of the Steel eye team are being indicted on counts of torture, massive ethical violations, and potentially, war crimes… I was asked to be a witness at the trail of The People Vs The United Nations Space Corpse.”

Krill stared at him in shocked silence, “You,.... what?” He looked away, “Why didn’t you tell anyone, why didn’t you speak with someone!”

He sighed and leaned back in his seat, “What was I supposed to say? Hey everyone, the people who almost ruined my life are being put on trial and I am in need of some serious moral support because I expect I may have to watch some of it over again, and I don’t think I am ready for it.” His hands clenched in his lap, and krill saw. He looked back at the back seat to where waffles was still sleeping in her kennel.

Adam took a couple of deep breaths, “I have come as far as anyone can be expected when it comes to recovering from what happened to us, but that shadow, these scars will NEVER be gone. I’ll always have dreams. I will always wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat just remembering what happened to me. I will always hear the hissing of those machines in the back of my head. And I will always have some sick and twisted need to put the suit back on again because not once in my entire life since then have I ever felt so powerful…. Some days it feels like the only thing I have that can protect everyone, like putting it on will make me invincible, even though I know that logic is flawed. I hate it more than anything at the same time that I NEED it.”

Krill paused looking down at his arms and hands, “And that is why you got the Iron eye implants.”

He nodded and sighed, “Yes, yes it is.”

Krill didn’t know what to say, so they drove in silence.

“WHere are we going then.”

“We are heading up to one of the rehabilitation facilities between Arlington and the Ruins at Capital hill. From there we are going to be shipped over to Geneva where the trail is going to be held.”

“A rehabilitation facility…. For who?”

He looked down at his feet, “You’ll see.”

The nit went silent and krill was forced to wait in the darkness with light zipping by the windows as they headed into the night. The Admiral fell asleep during this time at some point with his cheek pressed against the cool glass of the window, his ribbons still glittering in the darkness. A soft whimpering came from the back of the car, and Krill took some time to let Waffles out of her cage, pressing himself up against the door as she crawled over the seat and sat between them curling up in a tight ball with her head resting on her master’s knee. 

Adam seemed to relax in their sleep.

Krill watched out the window and took some time to think as the trees spd by in a dark blur. At one point it began to rain, and he tried not to think about the water pelting down on them from the sky above to obscure their vision.

Outside the sky lightened though the day was cloudy.

Adam awoke groggy and despondent, unusually quiet and unresponsive in comparison to his usually cheerful self.

They continued to drive in the silence, the only sound being the occasional whimper from the dog who sighed deeply, and stood to move to manuver into a more comfortable position. It was well into early morning by the time they made it to their next location, and their shadows were cast long and low across the ground.

Their vehicle was ushered through a large metal gate and onto the lawn of a restored Victorian mansion. Admiral Vir shifted uncomfortably as they pulled up the gravel drive and stopped before the wide porch and its white painted support pillars.

The door opened for them, and the Admiral stepped out with Waffles leaping onto the gravel behind him, taking a few moments to sniff around at the grass and the bushes.

Admiral Vir straightened his uniform and pulled on his cap as Krill floated out to join him.

A man was waiting for them on the porch and walked down the stairs to greet them with an open hand and a wide smile.

He was a small human, a bit older with greying hair and a nice suit. He clasped hands with the admiral and looked him over with a critical eye.

“A pleasure to meet you Admiral.”

“And you as well doctor.”

The man took a step back eying up the admiral as he did. Adam shifted uncomfortably, “Forvie my scrutiny, admiral.” The man said a bit sheepishly, “I have been working with the steel eye veterans for so long, and you are….. The first I have seen in such good condition.”

Adam tugged at the collar of his shirt in mild embarrassment, “Uh, I suppose I am extraordinarily lucky, doctor.”

The man held out a hand and motioned to the door, “Please come inside, there is much to show you, and the others have been expecting your arrival.”

He turned to look at Krill then and smiled,”Dr. Krill I assume?”

Krill was more than a little surprised to hear his own name spoken, “Have we met.”

The man laughed, “No, no, but I am familiar with your work. It is so interesting to see how other species view humans. I find it enlightening and entertaining.” The big white doors opened before the, and together they stepped into a large room with a spiraling staircase and a bustling room crumbs wearing attendants.

Somewhere in the distance, they could hear the sound of a piano playing.

“Welcome to Machinaw Hall, sounds a little more pleasant than the UNSC sponsored state rehabilitation facility.”

“Less of a mouthful for sure.” Adam responded.

The man waved a hand about the room, “I started all this about three years ago when my Nephew died during the steel eye operation of meningitis.”

“I...I’m sorry to hear that.”

The man sighed, “My family was obviously devastated, and I couldn't let it go, so I thought there was something I could do. At that time my wife and I flipped houses on the side and we came in possession of this old rundown Victorian. It's already been refurbished a couple of times since it was originally built. It was in such disrepair that no one wanted it, but I bought it for cheep and renovated it, and then set it up for other members of that same group. Unfortunately things were not completed until a few years after the incident, and it took us a while to find those who remained from participation in the trials and… well as well as from the war itself.” He sighed, “I only wish I had started this sooner. Who knows, we may have been acquainted earlier in that case.”

Krill watched Adam’s expression from the corner of his eye. He knew how the man felt about these sort of facilities.

“Perhaps. But what’s past is past.”

“True.”

They made their way up a checkered hallway and through a large doorway into a sunny and spacious living room. Despite how old the house was, the furniture was all well kept and in good condition. The people on the other hand were… less so.”

One or two of them were sitting on the floor in the sunny day room rocking quietly back and forth. Others sat on chairs or sofas with grim expressions on their face, and only one or two managed to appear as functioning humans.

One of them was playing the grand piano in the back.

As soon as he stepped in the room went mostly quiet, even the ones sitting on the floor looked up, and with surprise their eyes widened and they smiled. More than a few came over to meet him reaching out their hands and clasping his with firm grips.

“Admiral Vir!”

“Admiral, so good to see you.”

“You look well.”

“Glad you could make it.”

He smiled easily despite his unease, “Thank you. Glad to see you all up and about.”

“Mostly functional.” one of them piped up.”

Looking around Krill noticed the tell-tale hitch in their steps, and even the glittering of silvered metal on a robotic arm.

“Adam!”

The two of them turned quickly and krill was surprised to find a dark haired young woman appear from up the stairs jogging down and throwing her arms around him hugging him tight. He had to step back at the force of her greeting but hugged her bak with some shock and pleasure, “Jane!” He stepped back beaming, “You look good…. I’m a little surprised to see you.”

“Well after the… incident, I was able to get in contact with some people who pointed me to this place. The Doctor was kind enough to let me stay while I get back on my feet.”

He sat dow, offered a chair by one of the other steel eye members, and they sat around him.

He rubbed Waffle’s ears and let her off leash, giving her permission to go around the circle sniffing at hands and arms that were offered towards her.

Eventually she took a seat next to one of the soldiers sitting on the ground, and shoved her head into his space forcing him to pet her. A smile cracked over his face fr the first time since they had arrived .

“And getting bacon on your feet, how is that going.”

She sighed, “ I have found some temporary work at a mechanic shop, though its only temporary until I can find something that I really want to do.” She glanced at him with a look of guilt on her face, “I can’t go back to the UNSC not after….”

He nodded quickly in understanding, “I get it.” One of the other soldiers looked at him, his mouth turning down into a frown, “How could YOU go back to them after everything they did.”

The Dr. Scooted closer over the floor and rested a hand on the man’s shoulder in a warning sort of manner.

He relaxed a bit, but the anger was still plain on his face.

Adam kept his face still and neutral, “Some people say I’m a little too forgiving. But honestly, they gave me a spaceship which, all things considered, is good enough compensation for me.” 

A few of the people in the room laughed, others didn’t seem so satisfied with that answer but let it go.”

“So…. are you ready?” Jane wondered

Adam tilted his head up slightly.

One of the men leaned forward, “Ready, for what?”

Another hand on his shoulder, “Admiral Vir is going to be representing you all during the upcoming trial.”

A few of the group members frowned, ‘Wait, I thought we were all going to testify as witnesses.”

The doctor sighed, “We have gone through this before, not everyone is ready for something like that, but Admiral Vir has graciously offered to help and be the representative.”

“I am not having a UNSC lover represent me at the trail! He’s going to try and get them off easy.”

Krill scooted to the side a little watching as a sharp light flared in the man’s eyes, “You better watch-your-tongue BOY!’

The room went very silent.

“You act like I didn’t go through the exact same thing as you. Well tell you what I remember choking on the ash as my blood seeped into the moss, and I remember the pain, and I remember wishing I could just die, and afterwards, I remembered months and months of hopelessness wondering when it would all be over. I remember the drug withdrawls. YES i chose to go back, but that's because I am rational enough to realise that most people in the UNSC had no idea what was going on, and the people who ran things back then are either retired, pending investigation or already in prison.” He leaned forward in his seat, “So go ahead, question my motives one more time.”

The room was very silent, and the man who had first spoken up sat back in his seat sulkily.”

Someone cleared their throat in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.

“So what are the rest of us going to do.”

“ I am putting something together with the courts, and will be using interviews from you as evidence with your permission. I think that that will be more constructive. Admiral Vir will be there as a live witness, and due to his status, his testimony is likely to have the kind of pull we need to convict.”

There was a murmur of approval around the group.

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“Plus as a member of the UNSC himself the testimony will be more accepted especially considering his track record. Furthermore, he also has the most experience speaking in public and we want to make as good an impression as we can.”

The room was quiet now as the group thought about the points the doctor was making.

A hand reached across the circle, and he looked down to See Jan’s hand resting on his shoulder, “Are you sure you can do this…. I… Well I don’t know if I could were I in your shoes.”

He sighed, “It won’t be easy, but someone has to do it, and as of right  now, I am about as operational as we are going to get.”

There was nodding from around the room.

This was going to have to do 

[thewrittingworldofeva]

"God or Gods, does it matter?" PART 10

MASTERLIST

Base of the story :

“York is envied by the vikings and during the battle Ivar sees a Saxon girl fight with one of his warriors. The protagonist has a brother with the same disease as Ivar.”

N/A : Hi everyone, the new part is here! So, in simply italics it's voice in the head or the character thinking, I just wanted to precise that you are not confuse about it. Hope you like it and thank you all so much for your support and appreciating my writing! xo

The next morning, Ligeia was going to the blacksmith. On her way she sees Queen Astrid talking to a man, probably a fisherman she thought. She sees her put gold in his hands. But then, the Queen’s face changes. Something was wrong and she will find out what is going on. Later in the morning, Ligeia goes back to the Great Hall, Rosalia was eating and Apollo was in front of her with the same ginger head lady of last night. On the side, Queen Astrid was sharpening a knife. Why would the Queen sharpen a knife ?

She sits next to her sister and to mess with her, take a little piece of chicken in her plate. Rosalia instantly reacts and whines about “her chicken”, making Apollo and Ligeia laugh. Ligeia is keeping an eye on Astrid, a few minutes later she leaves the room. Ligeia waited a little before following her. She secretly follows her behind, her sword on her back, a knife strap on her thigh. She sees Astrid entering a little fish house, closing the door behind her.

A young boy recognizing his Queen, quietly watches her, and gets closer to the house. He almost jumped back out of the door, panic in his eyes. Ligeia comes closer and puts a hand on his small shoulder. He looked at her, shooken. “What did you see?” she demands softly. “He’s hurting the Queen.” he responded sadly. “Go back home, I’ll take care of this.”

The boy literally ran off. Ligeia hides herself on the side of the shack, listening to the sound inside. “What are you doing?” the sound of the door open and closing was heard. “Who are these men?” Someone chuckling. “My crew. I told you, what man doesn't want to have sex with the queen?” he says with a predatory smile. “No.” “Ha!” exclaimed Hakon. “No.” She immediately recognized Astrid's voice, and some fighting noise. “If you don't submit, I'll tell King Harald how you plan to betray him.”

Without hesitation Ligeia opened the door with force, making it slam against the wall. Astrid was held against the table by three men and a fourth one, who she concluded was the captain, was standing back. Astrid was looking at her with joy and fear, asking her to help her but also to run away. Ligeia sweeps her eyes on everyone in the room. “Get the fuck away from her.” she swore her fingers tickling.

The captain laughed looking at her head to toe. Ligeia's face is cold as ice. “Or what?” teased the fisherman, his face close to her’s. She slowly smirks, raising one eye-brow. She gives him a head in the nose, making him groan of pain, holding his nose. The other men, let go of Astrid, now she got their attention. They approach her, and a fight starts. She defends herself, dodging the blows. The goes behind the back of one of them and places her knife against his throat, blocking one of his arms against his back. Standing in front of Astrid, her eyes darker than usual threatening them.

“Move further and I cut his throat !” hissed Ligeia. Hakon, who was under the control of the foreigner, winced in pain. One of his mates took a step forward, Ligeia put more pressure on his neck, and the blade made a small cut causing a little blood to flow. “Don’t move !” screams Hakon sensing is skin being cut. “Listen to me carefully, Hakon” she starts whispering in his ear. “You are going to do what the Queen demands of you, and you are not going to tell anything to King Harald. And if I see you land a hand on her, or talk to the King ; I promise you, that I will take care of you and your crew. Do I make myself clear ?”

Astrid doesn't move a finger, looking at the men in front of her. She can see that they are scared, which is understandable. Ligeia was brought back by Ivar, in some kind of way, she is a prisoner. She talks their language and the Saxon one, she knows how to fight and has quite a temper. They don’t really know what she’s capable of. So, nobody answered her question. “Am I clear ?!” barked Ligeia, making everyone flinch.

“Crystal clear” confirmed Hakon with difficulties speaking because of the pressure on his throat. “Now, everyone steps back.” She instructed, moving forward to the door. “Queen Astrid, stay here.” she says looking behind her shoulder. Astrid shook her head in approval. They all step back and when they are outside, she throws Hakon on the floor before spitting on him.

She goes back inside, putting her knife back in his holster. “Are you okay ?” she asks Astrid, who’s eyes were watery. Ligeia starts getting worried, when the Queen just stares at her without moving. “Queen As…” Ligeia didn’t finish her sentence, so Astrid jumped on her and hugged her tightly. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” she cried in Ligeia’s neck.

The Saxon girl froze, arms straight against her body. She slowly raised her hands and put them on her back, patting it softly. “Alright, we should go.” Ligeia said breaking the embrace and taking one step back. “We are going to clean yourself, okay?” she continued carefully. “Okay.” agreed Astrid. After taking care of Astrid, Ligeia asks Rosalia to watch over the Queen. Rosalia was happy to have a mission. “Brother, I need to talk to you.” told Ligeia to Apollo. “Let’s go for a walk.” she smiles with a hint of sadness.

Ligeia walks and Apollo crept next to her. “Are you going to tell me what is going on with you?” begin Apollo looking briefly at his sister. “I know there is something that bothers and stresses you.” pointed out the young man. “I can’t hide you anything!” smile Ligeia. “I am a good observer.” joked Apollo proudly. “Anyways, what do you want to tell me?” curiosity shining in his eyes. “The person that killed our parents…” she stops her sentence midway struggling to tell the words, Apollo looking at her eager to know. “Is here.” she deeply sighted a weight leaving her chest. “Who is it?” he begged. “The bishop.”

Apollo’s mouth opened in the “o” shape. He wasn’t expecting this revelation. “Since this night, I promise myself to kill their murderer. But I will not be able to keep it.” confessed Ligeia clenching her fist. “Why?” questioned Apollo frowning. “Ivar has asked him to fight for him. If he decides to fight for him, I can’t do anything to him. Also, my priority now, is to protect Rosalia and you. We are in a place we don’t know, and we are not very much loved among them.” she affirmed amused.

People around them start to get agitated, and start clamoring. They decided to get close. “Why is he here, the Christian dog?” a man screamed in the crowd. “The heathen!” “Kill him! Kill him!” Heahmund was chained up and escorted to Ivar, who was eating peacefully a piece of chicken. One of the escorts threw in the mud the prisoner. People in the crowd were grunting and jerking.  “That's right, die!” chant the vikings. “Die, die!” “You should be scared.”

Ligeia and Apollo get themself a way in this river of people to be in the front. The movement caught the attention of Ivar, who looked slightly in the direction. Heahmund slowly got on his knees, panting, dry blood on his lips. His eyes immediately landed on Ivar, who was standing above him on his stool, looking at him with an imperceptible arrogant smirk.

He stands up on his feet, hands still chained up, eyes focus on Ivar. He turns around looking at the crowd, King Harald taking place in front of him. A man snarling at his face. When he get back to his position, his eyes cross the amber ones for a split second. He wiped his mouth with his wrist and got closer to Ivar. the cripple man, silenced the people.

“Now we decide whether you'll fight with us... or whether I kill you.” announced Ivar, loud enough for everyone to hear. He let a little blank before continuing. Taking a breath, he slowly placed the tip of a knife against Heahmund abs. “Nothing is keeping you alive but me.” This time, he was only talking to him, almost like a whisper. Heahmund lowered his head and peered at the knife, and looked back to Ivar.

“Why don't you give me the knife?” He says with his deep raspy voice. Ivar’s face softens, a one-sided smile appearing, without a word, he turns the knife, holding it by the blade. Heahmund let a breathy chuckle by the action. He breathed heavily, took it and held it, the blade pointed at him, before facing the crowd. He get closer to the man who was standing there, insulting him.

Ligeia feels the air get stuck in her throat, when he get closer to the man. Her heart beating hard, that she can hear it in her ears, and her heads shaking. She kept repeating herself “What is he going to do? What is he going to do?” At this point she was scrutinizing every part of his body for any kind of message.

“Die! - Are you afraid?” The crowd galvanized by the man’s words. “Do it. Coward!” Bishop’s face changed and turned into a grimace of craziness. Trembling, eyes wide open, he held the back of the man’s neck and planted the weapon in the throat. The man screams of pain and Heahmund spits on his face. Ligeia holds her breath, her hands getting into a fist shape, anger taking place. Heahmund threw the knife with disdainful, smirking. Ivar, shocked for a couple of seconds, started to laugh and applause. “I think he will fight with us!” chanted the viking, opening his arm. The crowd started chanting the bishop’s name. “Heahmund! Heahmund! Heahmund! Heahmund! Heahmund!”

For Ligeia everything went silent, she froze here looking at Heahmund, Ivar sentence looping in her head. “He will fight with us!” thump thump. “If he accepts your offer, nothing will happen to him.” thump thump. “He will fight with us!” thump thump. “He will fight with us!” Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. “HE WILL FIGHT WITH US!”

“Ligeia!” shouts someone. She takes a deep breath and searches for the voice who called her. Apollo pulled at her hand to get her attention. “Are you alright?” he asks with carefulness. She shook her head, trying to get away this feeling of oppression. “I need to get the fuck out of here!” croaked Ligeia, panic in her voice.

In her mind right now, a lot of different emotions were colliding each other : anger, bitterness, sadness, frustration, the urge to cry and surprisingly, fear. When she pivots to leave, her eyes froze on two icy pearls. She ends the eye-contact and pushes herself in the crowd still cheering for the bishop. Without knowing a lonely tear, slipped on her cheek.

tags : @youbloodymadgenius @al-lwiisa @akaward-potato @funmadnessandbadassvikings @otakufrenchfries @hugopowell @heavenly1927

[blueberrypossum]

Another Night hidden within the Stars

(GN)yokai cop x Dastardly Danny

Hey yall! I've had the wonderful opportunity to collab with @greaser-wolf and man has it been a wonderful experience! You are truly a lovely person and thank you again for the drawing!! This was super fun to write, with Danny and how he talks he's a challenge that I loved taking on. Hope you all enjoy!!

This story is gender neutral, but with it being fancy I will be putting tux/dress so then you, the reader, can wear whatever you want on your date with Danny ( also suspenders will be in the tux category and dress suits will still be in dress, hopefully that is okay with everyone because I do want to put detail into your outfit).

⚠️WARNING⚠️: There are cuss words and also mention of sexual content along with yearning and making out!!!

Word Vocabulary:

FC- favorite color

Take a powder- Get lost or lay off

Crumb-A jerk, no fun

Eager Beaver- Someone who excited about something 

Cut a rug- Dance with me

Dead Hopper- A bad dancer

Jive dancer- A talented dancer

You could feel yourself slowly growing impatient as you waited outside of the restaurant, your foot tapping against the concrete with a jittery rhythm. Dastardly Danny was never the late type, he would make the joke of being fashionably late whenever he and the rest of his crew had a runin with trouble, but you knew by now that he would make sure his schedule was clear the days you would meet up. Especially after the time he and his friends literally rode to the place you were meeting up in a snail cop car, a sheepish smile curling against his mouth. 

You remember the awful paperwork for that one.

The night of the Hidden City glistened around you as you leaned against the building, your hands rubbing up against your arms to create some friction of warmth. Even with the outfit you had on, the nights were slowly getting chilly due to the change of seasons above. 

The bag you held against your side started to vibrate and for a second you thought it was going to be that purple wearing rat, telling you that something had happened or that he was going to be fashionably late, but it was actually your boss from the police station. You cleared your throat before you clicked on the answer button.

“Yes, chief?”

“Hello Y/N, I was seeing if you would be free tonight to work an extra shift?”

You balled your empty hand into a fist as you jumped from your spot against the building, your eyes glaring to the side as if you could see your boss there, looming over you with a smile that practically said: “ If you don’t say yes to this then I will give you paperwork that is stacked so high that the humans above can see it.”

You let out a breathy sigh as you explained, “I’m sorry, chief, but I have plans tonight and I really cannot cancel them.” You turned on your heel so that your shoulder was leaning against the wall instead of your back.

You could hear the anger and frustration behind his voice, “Are you sure that whatever is so important cannot be rescheduled?”

“No, it cannot.”

You almost jumped right out of your body as a voice behind you answered for you. Your face started to blush against the amber lights of the restaurant as Danny was now leaning his head against your shoulder, a wicked grin on his face as he continued to talk.

“Sorry there, chief, but being a cop can be a real pain in the neck, so take a powder and let me and the dame have our night, alright?”

You opened your mouth to apologize to your boss, to say that your boyfriend had just had a little too much to drink and was now saying whatever came to mind, but the tall rat’s hot breath against your neck made you stiff as a board. You swallowed and suddenly you felt parched as Danny took the phone from your hand and hung up on the chief of police and placed the phone back into your bag. 

“Ya know you can get lockjaw if ya keep that mouth open for too long,” he chirped as he took your hand into his. 

“You’re….You’re late,” you stammered out, your mind foggy with the possible fear of losing your job and also how Danny’s suit was cleaner and seemed to cling to his body tighter than before. 

He bent himself over and kissed your hand as he looked up at you with hooded eyes.

“Actually, love, I still have about two minutes. Would ya like me to walk away and come back and get ya flustered all over again?” 

“Oh hush up, you could’ve gotten me fired and he could've figured out your voice,” you commented, your heart almost futtering out of your chest as his lips met your hand. Always so formal, strange how a gentleman could also be a thief. 

Danny rolled his eyes and let out a ‘tch’ sound as he took in the sight of you. Your outfit was glistening against the fallen lights of the town, the color bringing out the color in your eyes. Danny was surprised that he still had his balance as he took a step back. No matter how many times he lays his eyes on you, you can always somehow leave him breathless.

He intertwined his arm with yours as he chuckled out, “Yer boss is a bloody crumb, darling, and if he could recognize my’ voice, toots, then there would be more criminals in yer holding cells.”

“You know I can just turn you three in and get that raise, right?” 

“Ah but you would never do that to us, especially me, sweetheart,” he purred as took your chin gently into his hand and kissed you. All the stress that had built up within your body for the past few days melted away as he pulled you in closer to the kiss, your knees almost going weak as you felt him smile against your lips. His hand was careful against your cheek, as if his destructive and dangerous life would break you, even with you being a cop. His whiskers tickled your face and you couldn’t help but giggle into the kiss, causing Danny to bring you closer to him at the sound of your happiness. 

After the kiss, he planted one against your cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You look ravishing tonight, ” He purred as he led you over to the door, his arm already extending it to open it for you.

You let out a sigh as you pushed the fabric you were wearing down to wash out the wrinkles.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” You asked as Danny told the hostess the fake name he placed for the dinner reservation. As the hostess turned around to grab a few menus, Danny let go of your arm and ever so slowly danced his hand from the nap of your neck, down your spine until it planted itself onto your tailbone as he whispered into your ear, “Oh sweetheart, if we weren’t in this restaurant, I know exactly what I would be having for dinner instead.”

He smirked as a pretty shade of red crossed your face and even tinted the edge of your ears as the hostess turned back around and told you both to follow her. Danny had to practically drag you since your mind was nothing but a haze of embarrassment and desire. 

The tall rat yokai pulled your chair for you and you thanked him as he pushed you closer to the table and took a seat himself.

You took in the sight of the restaurant with a look of awe. The eating house was colored with wine and gold and the building was buzzing with life of friends and family and lovers just like you and him. You both had made sure, with the help of a worker there, that no cop or detective had placed a reservation at the restaurant, so no more looking over your shoulder or horror stabbing you in the gut when you watched yokais whisper and look over at you. 

Danny watched as you took it all in, an almost lovesick expression crossing his face. Everytime you both went out he would remember the first time you both met, with your pistol shoved into his face. Dating a cop was something that never crossed his mind, he always thought he would date a thief such as himself or maybe a regular citizen of the Hidden City. But, when you first chased him, screaming his name at the top of lungs, he knew it was love at first sight. 

He did hate the secrecy though, even with the thrill of getting caught was something he got high off of, he did want to show you off to the world, he wanted to take you out everywhere without any of your coworkers finding you. At least you both got to do this, and he knew how to mark you as his. 

The option of you quitting your job raged inside his head, the sheer thought of it made him mad. He would never let you give up your passion, how hard you’ve worked for your position at work, even though you said you would be fine with it, he wouldn’t be, and knew that you secretly wouldn’t be either.  

“So, I heard about that heist you did a few days ago, how did it go?” You questioned as you laid your head in your hands, your elbows supporting your weight. Danny let out a gust of air as he also leaned in, taking in the breathtaking sight that was you. 

“Don’t even get me started, sweetheart. Leonard is doing the chores for the rest of da month for the stunt he pulled during it,” the rat groaned and soon a waitress came up and Danny ordered one of their expensive wines, once she walked away, you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Wine, huh? That heist money really working itself off, isn’t it?” You played at him and he let out a low gruff as he smirked at you. 

“Only using the money for good, right?”

“Oh and I’m considered good?”

Danny gave you a hungry look and for a moment you thought he was going to get out of the chair and eat you up in one bite, but all he did was bring his hands together  on the table as he leisurely spoke. 

“Of course.”

Oh titans above how was I so lucky to land him.

You both ordered your meals and continued to have small talk. One thing you both decided to agree on was that Danny would talk about opposing gangs that were doing heists and robberies and then would tell you about them the next stop they were going to, with this you were given praise and extra cash at work and giving The Mud Dogs less competition in the playing field. It made Danny warm inside to see you have an interest in his job and it made you bashful when he would compliment you on your job.

In the background of your conversation was the beauty of musicians playing their hearts out for those who were out on the dancefloor, the restaurant was flooded with intoxicated laughter and the tapping of shoes against the wooden floor. The wine was slowly getting to you after the third glass and you couldn’t help but to start giggling after every word you said. 

After the waitress took your plates and left the check, you and Danny had to fight over who would pay. 

“You paid last time, I'll pay it,” you ordered as your fingers tried to swipe it from his hands, but he was a lot quicker than you and he let the bill twirl in between his fingers as he stared at you. 

“Not a chance, eager beaver, the deal is that you bring your decked out self and I get to gawk at ya until I need to pay the bill,” he insisted and was about to pull out his credit card before he felt your fingers touch his and soon the bill was gone from his hands and all he could do was glare lovingly at you as you giggled in your seat, the piece of paper shoved under your hands. 

“Yer not gonna give up, are ya?”

“Isn’t that what you like about me?”

His eyes traveled over your body slowly, hardly an ounce of urgency in them as he took in every inch of you. The curve of your waist, the way your outfit was flushed against your body like water to paper, how there were still love marks on your chest and barely above your neck from your last visit with each other. Desire was blazing through his eyes as they finally met yours. 

“Oh sugar pop, there is a whole list of things I like about you,” he growled and he took pride in the way you squirmed in your seat.

He eyed the dancefloor and then back at you and gradually got himself out of his chair until he was next to you, his hand extended out. 

“How about this: You cut a rug with me and you get to pay, deal?” He asked. You looked down at his extended hand and then back at his smug look, wondering if the wine had somehow gotten more to him then you. 

“Oh please, you know I have two left feet. If we danced your feet would be sore for weeks from me stepping on them,” you joked out, but he didn't move. 

“If ya were a dead hopper, I wouldn’t be askin. That or else I get to pay the bill,” he challenged. You didn’t know if it was the pride you held or from the extra glass of wine you swigged down, but you took his hand and let him lead you to the dancefloor. 

The music buzzed through your ears as you held tighter to his hand. You had fought bad guys, you had been in blazing shootouts, you’ve seen life be taken away right in front of your eyes. But dancing seemed to be the hardest challenge to muster up courage to master. Danny gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he took you both to the middle of the dancefloor. 

He took the hand he was holding and extended your arm with his, while his other arm went around your waist, bringing you almost dangerously close. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and his cologne drained through your nose. 

“Danny, what if we get caught? Everyone can see us,” you whispered. Many eyes were peering at you two, some just being distracted by the new movement you both caused and others eyeing the rat as if they recognized him. Fear started to snake itself around your body, almost trapping you once again in that constant fear of being discovered. 

But, the love of your life gently tapped his nose against yours as he shushed you so quietly that you could barely hear it. His calming scent and even breaths washed over you and you felt yourself relax. No one has ever made you feel like this, no past lover, no family or friend, Danny wasn’t just a breath of fresh air to you, he was a whole new world to you. 

“Hey, just let me show you off for just a few minutes, just this once, doll. Then we can go back to being Romeo and Juilet, I promise,” he purred and you silently nodded as he swept you off your feet. It almost seemed that the musicians took notice in the new lovebirds and the music picked up to match the tense and eager atmosphere, even the yokais around you took hints and their own moves started to change. 

Both of your dance moves were slow at first, the rat yokai letting you get used to him taking the lead, with his quick feet and swirls and twirls, you were a little shocked at how well he was. He held onto you though, taking in your cautious swings and how your eyes were on your feet instead of up. Danny knew he was selfish for asking this out of you, he knew that you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him. But the way you looked on the dancefloor was almost bewitching. Your tux/dress flew silently around you, the tone of your (FC) shined against the spotlight that twirled overhead, and your eyes almost seemed to glow in the scarlet and golden room, outshining and blinding anyone else around him.

He knew then he was deeply and terribly in love with you.

“My eyes are up here, toots.”

“So is that sarcastic mouth of yours.”

“You really do crack me up, dollface.”

He then let go of your waist and swept you away from him, the only thing connecting you two was the interlocking of your hands. Starlight seemed to bounce off you because he quickly brought you back to him, a little noise escaping your mouth as it felt as if you were dancing on air for how light he made you feel. He was behind you now, his mouth dangerous close to where your neck connected with your shoulder. His breath created goosebumps across your body as a feather kiss was placed against an old love mark he had given you days ago. Your heart seemed to go crazy within your ribcage as he twisted you around, your chests once again flushed against each other’s. Danny took several steps to your side and you quickly joined him, the wine and your wit gradually giving you confidence and soon you both were laughing, as if there was no one else in the restaurant, in the city, in the world. 

He took notice in your new found bravely and he swiped his arm under your rump and lifted you up, his smile growing wider as a flood of giggles escaped your mouth as you looked down at him. 

“Hey look! I’m finally taller than you!”

“Aye, don’t get used to it!”

He brought you back down and in one swope he dipped you, his strong hands holding you firmly as your back bent against him. It almost felt like a dream, a wondrous and unbelievable dream that you thought if you made one wrong move, you would fall out of bed and this would no longer be real. But the way he effortlessly pulled you back up and looked into your eyes with a lopsided grin, you knew that this wasn’t just a dream, it was a dream come true. 

The song smoothly started to transition over to a much more tamed and kinder music that had everyone’s swaying hips go slower and closer. You were still giggling as Danny brought you against him and suddenly it was very cozy between you two. 

You let the melody consume you as Danny lightly drifted you throughout the dancefloor, his face ever so slowly getting closer to yours. His hands were roaming your back as he brought you ever so closer to him to the point you both were barely missing each other’s toes. Suddenly it seemed like you both were spinning around each other until his lips barely slipped over yours. 

“Look who’s become a jive dancer,” he said silently against your lips and a little groan escaped your lips at just hearing him talk to you like that, every word he ever whispered to you in private with no wondering eyes would burn you to your core. 

“I had a good teacher,” you joked back as your hands wrapped around his neck, your nails every so slightly digging into his fur. You felt him lose his breath against your face and his own fingers dug into your lower back and suddenly it felt as if you both weren’t close enough. You both were never close enough. 

“Have I mentioned how ravishing you look tonight?” He asked as he leisurely twirled you and brought you back to him. 

“Maybe. But it's nice to hear it from such a dreamboat like you,” you said against his lips and he dipped you once again, but you barely made it pass his shoulder as he pushed his mouth against yours. A whirlwind of emotions surfaced throughout your body as your hand came up and caressed his face, your stomach dropping to the floor and your heart traveling up your throat. 

He separated himself from you for just a second to bring you back up on your feet before attacking your lips again, one of his hands on the nap of your neck to tilt your head more up. 

You were aware of the suspicious and judging eyes that fell upon you both, but for the first time, you didn’t care. He made you worry less, he gave you such an intoxication that not a single bottle of alcohol could ever get you as drunk as he did. The aftertaste of wine drifted onto your lips and you moaned into his mouth, grinning evilly as he shifted in his spot. His tail soon curled around your waist so that his other hand could go to the side of your face. 

He detached himself from you for just a second to say, “ Ya better pay that bill before the only thing yer wearing is that smile.”

The world seemed to freeze before you as your hands slipped off of him and walked him over back to the table, the bill trembling in your hands as you paid for it, all while feeling Danny’s hand place itself lower than your back. You can feel sweat slowly start to build over your body as he opened the door for you and followed you out the door. 

And before you knew it, you were back at your place, and once Danny closed the door behind you, he pounced, as if he wasn’t the rat, but the cat. His hands traveled over your outfit as if it burned his hands and couldn’t keep them in one spot and his kisses were slow and teasing, causing you to squirm under his touch. You couldn’t breath, you couldn’t hear anything, all you felt was the buzzing against your fingertips as they dug into his chest, your hands had already done the work to undo his tie and his undershirt. 

The door met your back and Danny was panting against your lips, his mind had gone completely blank except for you, he only thought about you and this moment, how it might be days until he saw you again. The thought of not seeing you stabbed him in the gut, and he’s known that feeling before, and it’s not a good feeling. He missed hearing your laughter, he desired to see your glistening eyes look at him, he wanted to be with you. It drove him nuts, no, it drove him insane at the thought of it. That once he woke up from your bed, he would have to sneak out early so that no one would see him leave your home and would have to race back to his apartment instead of laying with you and getting to wake up with you in the morning. He’s never been here when you woke up, he’s never been able to see your eyes flutter open and for the first thing for you to see in the morning was him, he’s never been able to see the morning light shine against your features as if the sun was trying to capture your face. He’s never been able to share the first cup of coffee with you, to see his pjs shirt draped over you like a blanket as you watch the morning go by, as he would watch you with loving eyes. And that’s what drove him to kiss you harder, that’s what pushed him to pull your head back and for him to replace your old love marks with new ones, it’s what forced him to savor every second of this, to cherish what you give him tonight, he would cherish every damn second you gave to him in secret. 

[thunderdilf]

What your MK OTP says about you

(based on ships I enjoy and/or have seen in passing)

[feel free to rebagel and add—ship hate will mean insta-blockage, for whatever that’s worth! I’m using the ship names I’ve krafted, and ballparking with others. I hope they give ye a giggle. If your ship isn’t here, PLEASE add it! I just went from memory. I love y’all.]

Caged Heat (Liu/Johnny): you’re here for a good time, not a long time—you like good tiddies and the word “angorny” means something to you. There is passion in both kombat and throwing someone’s luggage off a dock. Sparks, I tells ya.

Sonya/Johnny: you appreciate pegging and Cassie Cage (who doesn’t?). You like the story of a jerk with a heart of gold showing his true colors to a woman who is NOT easily impressed—and who also tops.

Shaolin Rowdy Boys (Liu/Lao): you’re here for a good time, not a long time… literally—you crave childhood friends to unexpected lovers and secret banging in temple broom closets! You see the value of a best friend who’ll go to bat for you, even against a 10,000 year old turboprincess, or maybe you ARE that friend.

Jadetana (Jade/Kitana): Kitana bottoms for NO man, but for Jade, she’d do anything. You love that dynamic of unswerving loyalty which secretly hides deep, abiding admiration and maybe a little lust—or a lot! Who knows what freaky shit Edenian gals can get up to in their private time? You. YOU know and may The Elder Gods™ bless you for producing kontent.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium (subscorp): old guy love is just the ticket—you crave the maturity of years, but you don’t want it boring; someone is getting speared because the love is more intense with age. Kombat to lovemaking is your kryptonite.

Warring Exes (Shang Tsung/Raiden): old guy love, but make it fashion—opulence meets chastity in a clash for the ages; you want an emotional roller coaster of “what if” and “why not”, where a mortal may teach a god to love himself, and love being loved… or perhaps not. Tragedy abounds. There’s enemies to lovers and then there’s this roller coaster. Do you really want good things for Raiden? Debatable.

Faraday Cage (Johnny/Raiden): old guy love, again, but this time it’s two dads finding comfort in a time when they need it most—you REALLY just want good things for Raiden and honestly, who doesn’t? Johnny is, decidedly, a good thing and you’ve decided that nicknames like “1.21 gigawatts” and “electric slide” are acceptable forms of foreplay. 

Cassie/Raiden: Faraday Cage 2: Electric Boogaloo—you might be a spite shipper (rock on) or you just dig visible age gap (because you know that every ship including Raiden or Fujin is EXTREME age gap) and you just want Cassie and Raiden to have nice things.

Jacqueda (Jacqui/Takeda): you watched them grow over the course of X and you were smitten. You’re convinced love really can bloom on the battlefield and kombat spouses appeal to you. The idea of Jacqui throwing down with Scorpion for Takeda’s hand appeals to you as well. Same.

Liutana (Liu Kang/Kitana): all those voice lines and character endings mean something to you—in fact, you may have cried; they’ve been fiddling about since 1995, goddammit, you just want good things for them! Is that so much to ask? I say make it happen.

Royal Pain (Shao Kahn/Sindel): the term “power couple” means something OTHERWORLDLY to you—you took one look at this terrible twosome and went “get me a freak like that” but no one was sure which one you meant and that was okay with you. You’re enamored with their grisly Gomez/Morticia aesthetic. They are awful and you LOVE it. Good on you!

Windwolf (Nightwolf/Fujin): you played Aftermath. ‘Nuff said. JK I’m never done. You love the dynamic of middle-aged person and deity falling in love, which is bizarrely specific, but you’ve found your niche goddammit and you’re going to fill it. You appreciate the koncept of the “god” not always being on top of things, or put-together and the idea of a mortal comforting such a being titillates you. The way Nightwolf stands, holding his belt buckle is, you’re convinced, what sold Fujin; it’s also what sold YOU. 

Windserpent (Shang Tsung/Fujin): you played Aftermath and while you didn’t think of it at the time, you’ve seen some REALLY nice art and batted the idea around a while and then settled on “yes this is for me”. The appeal is in the danger, from both sides—a nigh-immortal soul sorcerer and a god. Perhaps you crave a redemption arc, or a corruption arc; either way, this ship has serious potential and you intend to exploit it. How Shang Tsung of you.

Honor among thieves (Erron Black/Kung Jin): you dig age gap, unironic cowboys, and the idea of a couple of people who haven’t always been on the right side of the law finding themselves and their points of strength in the Kourt of an Outworld emperor. 

Kotal/Jade: you only needed a few cutscenes to tell you that these two are MADLY in love; what we lacked in pure kontent (after all, the game didn’t CENTER on them), they made up for in passionate exchanges. You appreciate the dynamic of respect between them and pegging is NEVER off the table.

Kano/Raiden: the aesthetic of filth-meets-purity appeals to you something fierce. The dynamic is unique and you love the potential for a redemption/corruption arc(s?). 

Shang Tsung/Kano: you saw the club scene in MK95 and you went “yes they’re boning”. Whether there is actual affection or not varies with your mood. You love the idea of disaster gay and refined gay coming together to make something dastardly. 

Bi-Hanzo (Bi-Han/Scorpion): you crave old wounds and aches and angst, drowning in memories of what never could have been, and regrets of what might have been prevented. This is an angst fest and it is YOUR cup of tea; drink that shit down, my friend, no sugar, no cream. Have at it.

Sonya/Jax: team mom and dad aesthetic appeals to you on a spiritual level. Someone’s gotta be in charge of this chicken shit outfit. AMERICA.

The Storm (Fujin/Raiden): your aesthetic includes the difficulty of a mortal’s inability to truly connect with and understand immortals and immortals finding themselves and each other in that realization. These entities who have existed since the beginning of all things understand each other better than anyone else could. Shine on.

Sindel/Raiden: this is team parents aesthetic on ‘roids. You’re probably a fan of the brainwashed Sindel theory and you’re of the opinion that only the love of a god is remotely worthy of the ultimate scream queen. Honestly, you’re probably right. Body worship is on your list of goals, right alongside worthy equals in a relationship—kinky. That being said, pegging is always a possibility.

Mileena/Scorpion: your aesthetic is danger—but alongside that is “lost souls finding love” and “shared burdens of infinite AGONY”. You dig angst and the potential for star-crossed lovers, meeting each other’s eyes across the arena of kombat. The idea of Scorpion as a consort (Kahnsort?) for Mileena might also appeal to you.

Rain/Mileena: the song “hatefuck” by the Bravery is probably your jam. You know there’s little love lost between these two, but perhaps kombat will bare their souls in such a way that they find some redeeming quality in the other—and the sex is VICIOUS. That’s what you’re looking for and by The Elder Gods™ you’ve found it.

Fanblade (Kitana/Sonya): you saw MK95 and went “I can fix this”. Kombat futch meets ancient warrior princess futch—this feels like hardcore xenabrielle vibes with a side of GORE because it’s mortal kombat, let’s be real. You feel as if Kitana would be foolish not to claim Sonya as her lover after watching her snap Kano’s neck with her thighs. You would be right.

Taleena (Tanya/Mileena): rebel, rebel—we love a good usurpation, don’t we? Power struggles are hot, both politically and in bed. Your kinks include overthrowing the bourgeoisie (even though you ARE the bourgeoisie) and seizing the means of production (meaning the flesh pits, probably). 

Shaiden (Shinnok/Raiden): your motto is fight and fuck—or enemies to lovers, for the more refined shipper. Maybe you prefer enemies AND lovers. Go hard or go home, I say.

Nightwolf/Erron Black: old guy love, but make it reformed criminal. The appeal here is that, very likely, someone has to convince someone else that he really IS out of the woods, to show him his true worth, and maybe give him some time off from the violent grind of kombat life.

Kablam (Kabal/Erron Black): black dragon buddies! In the depths of mercenary work, there isn’t time for love, not really, so you want to see these two assholes find some semblance of peace and pleasure amidst illicit activities. Whether or not Kano knows depends on what kind of quickie sex appeals most to you.

Jacquass (Cassie/Jacqui): military lesbians, friends to lovers, BFFs, this ship has it all. You’re in love with the idea of a couple of people who grew up together, suffered and fought and bled together, stumbling away from a battlefield, carrying each other and finding that perhaps they can keep carrying the other, maybe forever.

Kotal/Erron: The idea of watching someone go from bad to the bone, to actually CARING about something other than himself thrills and excites you. That kind of loyalty can’t be bought, even though you keep pretending that’s all it is. Very tsundere.

Kano/Kabal: “he’s a lowlife, piece of shit scumbag; you’re gunna love ‘im.” Nuff said.

[deans-mind-palace]

Stitches

May I please request a Dean x Female Reader where she admits she's in love with him after a hunt where he nearly died and she has to patch him up? With some fluff and maybe smut?

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N is in love with Dean, unbeknownst to him. During a hunt he saves her and risks his own life. He nearly died and now you have a grumpy, on the floor bleeding hunter sitting on your bed and you are just about to explode.

Word Count: 2,265

Warnings: Mentions of fighting and blood. Needles stitching into human skin. Smut

Author’s Note: This was based on an anonymous request. I really hope you like it and would love to have some feedback from you. Also I forgot asking you, if you want to be added to the Dean taglist! You can message me privately. But you don’t have to do any of that! :) Remember, guys, likes are silver, comments are gold.

Your bullet hit the first werewolf right in the heart. "Y/N! Watch out!" yelled Dean, but it was too late. Before you could react, the hunter jumped between you and the other werewolf. The creature hit him instead of you and threw him against the next wall. It cracked ugly and Dean lay motionless. Panic ran through your body with the adrenaline as you pulled the trigger and put a silver bullet into the werewolf's black heart. While the werewolf howled in agony for the last time, you ran to the motionless body of your best friend. He hadn't moved and was still lying there in the same bent position in which he had hit the wall.

Fear pumped through your veins as you fell to the floor next to him and pulled his body into your lap. He could not be dead. Please, you begged silently, don't let him be dead. When he had taken his last breath, that would be it for you. Without him, your life had no meaning! You loved the man.

You laid your trembling fingers gently on the main arteries in his neck, took his pulse. A wave of relief washed over you. He was alive! His pulse was weak and his breathing was shallow, but he was alive!

A dead werewolf lay on the ground behind you in human form, but your attention was only focused on the blond hunter in your lap. "Dean," you said softly, running your fingertips across his forehead, brushing aside the blood-crusted blond hair. He had lost a lot of blood from a gash on his eyebrow that needed to be stitched, but the hunter was too heavy for you to carry him to the car alone.

His breath was heavy and rattling. The longer he remained unconscious, the more the fear grew in you to lose him. You saw no serious injuries, so why didn't he fucking wake up? You were scared to death and your lower lip trembled as the first tears started to run down your cheeks. "Dean. Wake up. Please wake up." Your voice no more than a strained whisper. Your fingers running through his hair incessantly as you begged for him to wake up. Suddenly a tear dripped on his face and his eyelids began to flutter. They opened wide. Dean moaned painfully and a wave of relief rushed over you. It took him a moment to get his bearings, then his apple-green gaze focused on you.

"W-what happened?" he asked dazedly and looked around in confusion. Then he remembered and his gaze slipped back to you. "Aw. You cried for me?" He smirked and you weren't sure if you wanted to kiss him or slap him. You ignored him and his eyes found the body behind you. "You hit them both," he said approvingly, and you just nodded as you wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"Well then, we have to remove the bodies." He tried to stand up, swaying, and a hissing sound escaped him. His face twisted painfully and his hand flinched to his left ribs. At that moment your relief turned to anger.

You couldn't believe it! That stupid, stupid hunter. Didn't have any sense of self-preservation at all. That idiot! That - argh! There were simply no words to describe Dean Winchester's stupidity! You already had the werewolf, and all you had to do was shoot if Dean hadn't jumped in to save you. So you had to pull aside at the last moment to avoid hitting Dean. You would have had it so the stupid hunter wouldn't have had to play martyr again. It was a miracle you got the werewolf anyway!

"You, do nothing!" you said coldly. "I'm going to pack our stuff and you're going to sit tight until we drive back to the motel, understand?" The hunter was so confused by your sudden change of mood that he sat down without a word. He watched your every move, no matter how small. The way you kept brushing your hair away from your face. Something you always did unconsciously when your thoughts kept bothering you. With a subliminal aggressiveness you collected all your stuff and threw it back into your bags. With a jerk you closed the zippers and threw the bags over your shoulder before stomping over to him. He could see the anger in your eyes. Still he did not understand it. What was wrong with you? One second you were crying for him, the next you had a look in your eyes like you wanted to twist his neck.

"Come on. Let's go." you demanded Dean after you removed your fingerprints, and without giving him another look, you walked past him towards the car. He stayed behind alone and stood up in groaning and pain. For a moment he became dizzy from the blood loss and had to hold on to a bookshelf to avoid falling down again before he slowly limped after you.

The drive to the motel was silent. He had given you the key to the car without argument, because he didn't want to make your condition worse and attract your anger. That's why he looked out of the window in silence or watched as your fingers tightened so tightly around the steering wheel that your knuckles came out white.

Meanwhile, your mind was racing. Deep inside you knew that you were not angry with Dean but with yourself for not being able to protect him. But you pushed that thought away brusquely as soon as you saw the motel. You pulled the key out of the ignition and slammed the car door behind you. Dean flinched at the sound but said nothing. He got out, and meanwhile, you carried your things into that little room.

"Sit on the bed," you told him without looking at him. "And don't bleed on the floor!" "Yes, Ma'am." he grumbled and secretly rubbed the tip of his shoe across a small red drop on the floor, hoping you didn't see it.

You rummaged in your pocket and only seconds later you returned with needle, thread and a bottle of cheap whiskey. You bent down to him. He had a perfect view of your cleavage, but as soon as you poured some alcohol on a cotton pad and started to clean his wound, he flinched. The alcohol burned like hell and ate into the wound with a sharp sting. You continued unperturbed as he flinched beneath you.

"Dean! Hold still" you warned him, but your movements became softer and more relaxed. He felt it. Then you put the bloody cotton wool aside and looked at the wound, now that it was free of all dirt and clotted blood. "It will definitely need stitches." you muttered as you examined it more closely. You took needle and thread and began to carefully prick Dean's eyebrow to stitch it up. "Grit your teeth," you instructed him. He cursed. "Ouch! You're too harsh." he moaned.

"It's your own fault." you replied without pity and moved on to the next stitch. You were so angry with him. So, so angry that your hand shook. "What's the matter with you?" Dean asked, who couldn't understand your mood, but slowly couldn't take it anymore. "You ask me what's wrong with me?!" you asked incredulously. "What's wrong with you, Dean?" "What do you mean?" he asked confusedly. Anger rumbled in your stomach and you put the needle down to take a few deep breaths. It didn't calm you down. "I thought you were about to die, Dean." Your voice got louder. How could he do this to you over and over again? "I don't understand your damn problem!" His voice swelled up too. "I saved your life. You should be thanking me." What if he really died one day because of you. You could never forgive yourself for that. You couldn't live with that. " Thanking you?" you repeated in bewilderment. "I will never be grateful if you die for me, Winchester!" Before he could answer, you went on. He reached for your hand, but you snatched it away. "Why are you so reckless with your life, Dean? Doesn't it mean anything to you? Why do you throw yourself between me and a demon at every chance you get?" You sounded tired. You massaged your temples. You just didn't understand. "Is it me, or why do you have such a longing for death?' you asked, your voice became quieter and quieter towards the end and you turned away to hide your tears. "The best death for me would be to save your life," the blond hunter replied soundlessly. Anger rushed through your veins. He shouldn't say such things! "Don't you ever say that again, you hear me?" you shouted at him. "Jesus Christ, Y/N! Why is it such a big deal?" he cursed when he saw you crying. "Because I fucking love you!" you yelled. Only when his reply failed to come did you realise what you had said and slapped your hand over your mouth. Oh, God, what had you done? "D-Dean, I-I. Oh, God... I didn't mean it... I didn't mean it. Say something!" you begged anxiously.

He raised his eyes and looked right at you. You saw something in his green eyes you hadn't seen in a long time. Hope. He rose up under groaning and stepped towards you. He pressed one hand against his broken ribs as he limped towards you. Suddenly he was standing inches away from you. You could smell his aftershave and felt his breath on your face. "Did you mean what you just said?" he whispered. Nervously you kneaded your hands. "I-I, Dean, look, I'm sorry --" he interrupted you. "Y/N. Did you mean it?" he repeated and took another step closer. He was standing right in front of you now. His eyes moved to your lips, where they stayed. "I-I, yes," you nervously admitted. A smile spread to his lips. "Good, because I'm serious about this too," he whispered against your lips, and the next moment they were on yours. They were soft and warm. They tasted like cinnamon, beer and metallically like blood, but it was a wonderful kiss. He pulled you against him and kissed you harder.

You couldn't believe your luck and kissed back forcefully. Breathing heavily, you parted for air, then you turned on each other again. When the bulge in his jeans collided with your centre, you moaned at the same time. Together you stumbled to the bed. You tried to take off his shirt while he kissed a trail down your neck and his hands went under your shirt. But as soon as he raised his arms so you could pull it over his head, a painful sound escaped his lips. You sighed and gave him a kiss. "Sex with a broken rib is not a good idea," you mumbled. But he just kissed you again and went on. "I don't care." He kissed you again. "I want you." But only seconds later, he flinched again. "Dean!" You pushed him away forcefully. "Stop. You need to rest." His green eyes looked at you like a child who'd lost his favorite toy. His blond hair was ruffled from your hands and his lips were swollen red. You wanted to pull him back to you at that sight, but you had to be reasonable.

"I have an idea," you said slyly, and goose bumps ran down his body as you covered his chest with feathery kisses. You continued on your way down until you reached the waistband of his jeans. Tantalizingly, you let your fingertips dance over the distinct bulge. He squirmed underneath your touch and you smiled. Then you unbuckled his belt and took off his jeans and boxer shorts. His eyes sparkled in cheerful anticipation.

In admiration you looked at his cock. You blew over the wet tip and he twitched in anticipation. "Baby." Dean wailed and buried his hands in your hair as you traced the vein at the bottom of his cock with your fingertip. "Don't tease! I need you." You smiled and all of a sudden your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. He moaned and threw his head back. You inserted him agonizingly slowly into your mouth before your tongue began to play around his head. His hips bucked up involuntarily. Slowly you moved the tip of your tongue over the slit where precum oozed out. Dean made wonderful breathless sounds above you.

Suddenly you began to bob you head up and down firmly. Taking him in as deep as you could. Dean moaned and your fingers played his base. His hands clawed deeper into your hair and you looked up at him. His green eyes met yours before he closed his eyes with relish and began to push into you. You sensed that he was close to orgasm and got faster. A long moaning followed and then he twitched in your mouth. You continued and one white spurt after another shot into your mouth. You swallowed it all and licked him clean before he went limp and left your mouth with an obscene sound. Sweat ran down Dean's forehead and he looked at you under half-closed eyelids. "That was fucking amazing, baby. I love you." Then he pulled you to him and kissed you while he tasted himself on your lips.

Tags beneath cut. You liked this? Send an ask or add yourself to my taglist over my bio. There is one for every SPN character and actor.

Dean Tags:  @vicariouslythruspn​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @zizzlekwum​ @ashthefirefox​ @outofnowhere82​ @rintheemolion​

[heli0s-writes]

Drabble Prompt #161: “Tell me a lie.” - “I love you.” JUST BREAK MY FUCKING HEART, WHY DON'T YOU? (Oh man, Heli, PLEASE make it hurt. I need a big, big oof 😭)

THIS ONE WAS HARD. I TRIED. Angst! Lots!Request a prompt!

brooklyn born masterlist

What year is it? Where are you? What’s my name?

It’s dark the first time he asks you these questions. The two of you smothered by the filth of a collapsed building, blood dripping from a split on his forehead into your mouth.

2023. In … where the fuck are we, Buck?

He wipes the blood from your nose-bridge and it smears it further up into your hairline. You’re fine, you assure him, but a large welt is forming from where your skull cracked under the falling ceiling. And then suddenly, in the soot grey silence of dust, stars blossom over Bucky’s face and he spins into a million fractures.

The room returns in a rocking motion of planetary misalignment— a roar of primordial birth. Grey, still, but rushing in like a storm.

Your head turns to the side to find Bucky and Steve peering down at you. Their voices are fading away as you waggle a finger. You guys okay?

Bucky chokes on a desperate laugh and catches himself against the jet’s wall. Steve kneels and brushes a tear from your cheek. His fists are clenched tight and before you go you hear him spit a long and vengeful string of curses.

-

The trauma lingers and your brain is sending out Morse codes of electrical activity, disrupting its natural frequency. You seize intermittently— at least three times on the hospital bed.

The nurses are slower than he is, so when Bucky gets there first, he follows their protocol and checks you with that annoyingly mundane prodding.

What year is it? Where are we?

You gurgle and flip him off. 2023. Med bay, goddamn it— anymore dumb questions?

He laughs. Why are you such a pain?

You have a question for him in reply. Where’s Steve?

It’s immediate, the way Bucky frowns a miserable crescent moon that hangs low on his face. He’s back in the field, finding the fucker who blew the room out.

Your cracked lips seal themselves shut, the grimace speaking louder than words ever could.

You and he know better than most how Steve changed after the Accords, tuning himself out to every feeling except for the one that keeps him fighting. Bucky knows that when you gaze into some unknown distance, you’re thinking about how your Hercules has transformed into Ares. Gold tarnished into red, blooming blood.

The stars above the compound snuff themselves out by sunrise and Bucky jerks awake with Friday alerting him to your bedroom. It’s midnight again and his bare feet slap against the floor all the way in. Time is a circle now, being asleep and awake feel one and the same, saturated with worry.

His hands are shaking when you lurch back to life.

What’s m—

You shudder, sh-shut the fuck up with that.

A sharp breath escapes his trembling mouth. I was going to ask, what’s my favorite color.

The same noise falls out of yours. Trick question, dumbass. Black isn’t a color; it’s a shade.

He stays on the floor for the rest of the night, and after the sun climbs across and makes its way back to the other side of the sky, he comes back and does it again.

In the dark, your sighs become ocean waves. Your hands gripping the sheets of the empty bedside sound like footprints in the sand. Bucky listens, half-asleep, to your whimpering like a slow siren call pulling him into the deep.

The interrogations come more frequently, because the doctor told him you might be experiencing other side effects from the injury. Someone needs to be there, to watch you, just in case. So, he asks you throughout the day all sorts of idiotic things. Mostly because of fear, sometimes because he’s secretly eager to see you smile.

He hasn’t seen a lot of that after the Accords. After Ares, he supposes.

What’s my birthday?

March tenth.

His brows raise in surprise— I wasn’t expecting that.

Where’s Steve?

You catch him off guard. He’s supposed to do the asking. The tile floor of the kitchen holds your tears on a Wednesday morning while your fingers scratch at the smooth surface, securing yourself in the moment.

I don’t know… haven’t heard since last Tuesday.

Your nostrils flare and Bucky wipes the corner of your eye. He tries to lighten the mood, tugging out a memory of an older day when you were the life of the party. Tell me a joke.

You stare into the fluorescent light hanging over his dark head. The shadow obscures his cheeks as he looks on. Your mouth is detached even as the silly question slips out. What is Beethoven’s favorite fruit?

Then, the end of Friday pitches you over in the middle of a shower. The caddy of shampoo and conditioner flies off its perch and scatters with a bang the same time your knees hit porcelain. Water rushes into your mouth and nose but you can’t feel it.

Bucky rips down the door, yanks the entire curtain off furiously and you, slippery with suds, into his lap. His one hand clears away the broken soap dish, the other turning your head to the side.

Come on! Come on, come on. Come back. Come back.

Three minutes feels like an eternity.

Your gasps finally wane, and you look up at him from your place on his thigh, leaned back on his palms, breathing hard as if he’s the one who fell. He reaches over for a towel, drapes it on top of your body and pretends like he hadn’t seen anything.

Who won the game last night? Bucky grunts. You blink spots from your vision, hand reaching up to find his face, to make sure he’s there.

S-sportball? C’mon, Buck. Like I fucking kn—

A long-suffering sigh. His heart feels like it’s about to jump out of his chest, and here you are, being a complete pain in his lap. He tries a different approach.

Who makes the best lasagna? Never mind– I know it’s me. His brain is discharging rapid-fire questions, trying to forget the shape of your body beneath the cotton sheet. What’s your third favorite animal? Who sings that song you like? Tell me about your ma. Tell me a story. Tell me a lie.

You laugh then. The one he’s been waiting for. The first one all week— all month, since your head cracked open. Since Steve left you for vengeance. It’s a clipped sound, not really a laugh, but he takes it eagerly with a fluttering in his chest.

I love you.

Bucky’s thundering heart stills as your head moves from its sideways position on his leg. Instead of his thigh cradling your cheek, his lap cradles the back of your skull. Beneath him, you peer, lips parted at the beginning of a sentence. He beats you there.

What? Why would you—

A lie, right?

Bucky nods stiffly. Misses the way you stare at the point of his chin when he tilts back. You’re a pain, you know that? Guess that’s how I know your brain isn’t knocked loose yet.

Friday dings tepidly, alerting the both of you to an arrival and soon enough, heavy and determined steps are echoing down the hallway. Stiff footfalls, commanding gait.

Steve. Ares.

You should head back to your room. He always wants to see you first.

A little hum sizzles from your throat as you pick yourself up, letting Bucky steady you with his arm. Not always.

It gives Bucky pause as he gathers the jagged ceramic bits and soap bottles scattered on the floor. Your voice is small and reluctant when you call his name. Bucky?

Yeah…?

The look you give him from the doorway half splits your mouth open, showing your teeth. When was the last time you gave him a real smile? Bucky’s brow furrows at the restrained moment pulling itself apart, lasting an eternity.

Your turn, Buck. Tell me a good one. Tell me a lie.

Infinity lingers. Steve’s steps are frozen in time, endless like the three minutes you seized in his lap tonight as he searches your eyes for an answer to the unasked question. It hovers and breathes down his back. It’s a secret. A fib. An admission wrapped neatly inside the pretense of a shared game.

He smirks and hopes the splintering in his heart doesn’t show on his face.

I love you.

-

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity

[aneiria-writes]

possible prompt ?? dramionaise - everyone thinks they're already dating but the three of them are just like ??? we are what ??????? bonus points if they're secretly fwb or something

Oooooh nonny, what a great prompt this was! Thank you so much for sending it in! I hope you like it (also it’s about 1600 words, I’m terrible at actual drabbles 😂) Warning - mildly NSFW references

‘Hermione?’

Hermione Granger was daydreaming when the familiar voice broke her reverie. As she drifted back to reality, she realised with a horrified start she’d been staring at both Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. They were propping up the bar, in their exquisitely cut dress robes, laughing and joking with Pansy Parkinson who looked stunning as usual in a full-length ball gown in glittering gold.

From Hermione’s side, Harry Potter followed her gaze, and she snapped her attention back to him.

‘It’s okay, you know,’ Harry said now, rather cryptically, as he took a sip of his champagne. ‘None of us mind. You don’t have to hide it anymore.’

Hermione shook her head in confusion, looking back over to Draco and Blaise, who were now gripping their own champagne glasses and - rather alarmingly - heading in Harry and Hermione’s direction. As they approached, Draco’s silver eyes shifted and met Hermione’s, and he gave her a lazy, sexy smirk. She gulped and tore her eyes away, not missing the fact that Blaise was also staring at her as if he could devour her on the spot.

‘What are you on about, Harry?’ Hermione asked with a voice that was rather higher-pitched than normal. She took an overlarge gulp of her champagne to compensate, nearly spluttering as it went down the wrong way. Harry didn’t seem to notice, nodding subtly in the direction of the approaching Slytherins instead. Well, if you could count classmates you’d graduated with five years ago now to still be defined by the house they were in.

‘Don’t make me say it, Hermione,’ Harry pleaded with a groan, his green eyes shifting from them to Hermione. ‘You know…’ he gave another, less subtle nod now, as Draco, Blaise and Pansy had joined them.

‘Potter,’ Draco greeted him shortly, before turning to Hermione. ‘Granger,’ he added in a distinctively softer voice, handing her a glass of champagne. Blaise shook Harry’s hand and leaned in to give Hermione a polite kiss on either cheek, engulfing her in the delicious scent of sandalwood as he did. Only Blaise and she could know that he lingered over the second kiss, his hand brushing against her waist at the same time.

‘What are we talking about?’ Pansy asked brightly, slipping an arm around Harry’s waist and leaning into his side. They’d been dating for just over a year now, the unlikely power couple, and Harry gave her a meaningful look.

‘Ooooh,’ Pansy said in understanding. ‘Has she finally admitted it then? I can’t get these two to open up in the slightest,’ she added, jerking her head towards Draco and Blaise, who were looking mildly bemused by the whole thing.

‘What are you on about, Parks?’ Draco asked, arching his eyebrow at her as he took a sip of champagne.

He leaned back against the table beside them, and Hermione tried really hard not to let her gaze drop down to his perfectly-fitted trousers, or linger over where she knew his divinely proportioned and epically talented cock was currently hidden away.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts - honestly, this champagne was making her less careful than usual - she made the mistake of looking at Blaise instead. He fixed her with a wicked grin, and licked his lips lasciviously in her direction. She felt heat rising in her cheeks as she was flooded with the sudden image of his beautiful body exposed and eager, laid out on a bed in front of her.

‘Oh, for Merlin’s sake,’ Pansy said impatiently, watching Hermione. ‘Granger, you’re about as subtle as a hippogriff in a potions shop.’

Hermione gave Pansy a frown, wondering what she meant.

‘You three,’ Harry said now, a touch slowly, as if addressing children. ‘We all know the three of you are dating.’

Dating?

Hermione looked at Harry incredulously as Blaise sputtered.

‘Wait, what?’ Blaise asked in bemusement, his gaze flitting from Hermione to Draco. ‘Dating?’

‘We’re not dating,’ Draco added, a frown appearing on his forehead.

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ Hermione asked with a laugh.

As if she and the Slytherin sex gods would be dating.

Sure, Hermione thought to herself, maybe the three of them… dabbled in some physical experimentation now and then. She felt the heat in her cheeks rise even further at the flashback to their last rendezvous, when both of their dicks had been buried deep inside her and she’d practically been in tears from the intensity of the orgasms they had plied her with.

But dating? No.

Draco and Blaise were two of the most eligible Pureblood bachelors on the market. No way would they want to date an annoying Muggleborn know-it-all, no matter how great the sex might be.

Harry sighed now and rolled his eyes to the ceiling as if asking for strength. ‘Hermione, please, don’t deny it anymore,’ he said with a touch of exasperation, and before she could protest Pansy had interrupted.

‘Come on, Granger, you’re constantly undressing the pair of them with your eyes every time we’re together.’ Blaise sniggered at that, until Pansy turned on him with the ferocity of a blast-ended skrewt. ‘And as for you, Zabini, don’t think I haven’t noticed how you always wear that sandalwood cologne now, and I know it’s Hermione’s favourite one, she mentioned it at my birthday party.’ Pansy was on a roll, turning now to Draco, who watched her with the wary wide eyes of a man who had been on the receiving end of a Pansy rant before. ‘And you, Draco Malfoy,’ she hissed, and he held up his free hand in mock surrender. ‘I’ve seen you. You’re a gentleman but you also have very little respect for most people. Except these two,’ she nodded from Blaise to Hermione. ‘Any excuse to touch Blaise and you’re there. Any time we’re with Hermione, she never has to open a door or pull out a chair or refill a drink.’ Hermione guiltily clutched the stem of the champagne glass Draco had handed her only minutes before, sure that the blush must have reached even the tip of her ears by now. ‘We’ve known for months you’re all dating, and we’re all fine with it, so please can we end this charade once and for all.’

With that Pansy came to a halt, and Harry smiled at her and nuzzled her neck, whispering ‘brava’ to her just loud enough for the others to hear.

‘Pansy,’ Blaise tried again. ‘Honestly, we’re not dating!’

Hermione stared resolutely into her champagne, trying her best to stop tears welling in her eyes. Even if she knew why they could only ever be friends - well, friends with benefits - she didn’t know if she could take the hurt that would come with them explaining why she would never be good enough for them.

‘Blaise is right,’ Draco said, but there was a strange catch in his voice that Hermione couldn’t place at first. ‘As much as we might like to date Granger, she’s far too brilliant for two disgraced wizards who once found themselves on the wrong side of the war.’

Hermione looked up in shock, recognising the pain in his voice with the words he said. Blaise had moved closer to Draco, and now reached out to take his hand.

‘What?’ Hermione said, only managing a whisper. Blaise was watching her sadly, and finally Draco lifted his own gaze and gave her a small, resigned smile.

‘We knew what we were letting ourselves into, Granger,’ Blaise said now. ‘We decided even if we risked falling in love and having our hearts broken, we’d take whatever you were willing to give us.’

Hermione could hear a strange rushing noise in her ears, like a dam had broken.

‘You don’t - I mean, you want to date?’ She asked incredulously. ‘But I’m - I’m just - I’m a mug-’

‘You’re everything, Hermione,’ Draco said firmly, and she fell silent in surprise at the use of her given name.

‘You’re everything to us,’ Blaise added quietly.

Hermione looked at them both, trying to untangle the thoughts in her head.

‘You mean we could have been dating all this time…’ she said slowly. ‘But I thought I wasn’t the right kind of witch and you two thought you were the wrong kind of wizards?’

Draco and Blaise shared a slightly panicked look.

‘Erm,’ Blaise said, looking sheepish. ‘It appears that is a possibility.’

Pansy broke the moment by laughing, and Harry shook his head in exasperation. ‘You know, for three of the cleverest students in our year, you three are something else,’ he muttered.

Pansy was nodding in agreement, and she gave Harry a loud kiss on the cheek.

‘Come on, Potter,’ she said. ‘You can dance with me while these three idiots realise it was themselves they needed to admit the dating thing to.’

Pansy and Harry head off to the dance floor, and Hermione, Draco and Blaise stood together awkwardly.

‘So,’ Blaise said with false brightness. ‘Does this mean… are we dating now?’

Hermione shrugged, her mind still reeling from the revelations of the evening.

‘I suppose so,’ she said, and Draco tutted and waved his hand to wandlessly levitate all three of their champagne glasses. He took Hermione’s hand as well as Blaise’s in his own.

‘We can’t be dating until we’ve been on a date,’ Draco said sharply. Then his lips curled into a sweet, hopeful smile. ‘Are you both free tomorrow evening?’

Blaise gave Hermione a smile, reaching out to take Hermione’s other hand.

‘I am,’ he said easily, and Draco waited patiently for Hermione to answer.

She took a moment, wanting to remember it all. Finally holding their hands in public, not having to hide from their friends, realising she was enough - more than enough - for the two men she had accidentally fallen in love with.

Hermione took a deep breath and smiled.

‘Yes.’

[irhinoceri]

So I read the Ed Brubaker Captain America comics yesterday, the ones that mainly deal with the Winter Soldier reveal etc (what I read was called The Winter Soldier Ultimate Collection which included “Man Out of Time” “The Lonesome Death of Jack Monroe” and “The Winter Soldier”) and it’s the first Marvel comics I’ve ever actually read. (Purely been a 90s era cartoons/mcu bitch since I was like... 12 years old). I enjoyed it, and have three to five thoughts about it as it relates to the MCU adaptations:

1. Sharon Carter was such an important character in that comic run and I wish that she had been a bigger character in CATWS even though it was her introduction and obviously she did not have the pre-existing history with Steve that comics Sharon Carter had with him. However CATWS also introduced Sam Wilson and gave him a lot to do... so looking back I wish Black Widow had not been included in the movie and that Sharon Carter had taken her role in the adventure. All the pseudo romantic stuff between Steve and Natasha would have made more sense between Steve and Sharon. I feel like the only reason Sharon got a marginalized role in the story is that Natasha/ScarJo was a bigger character in the MCU already. But... eh. Emily Van Camp > Scarlett Johannsen.

2. On the other hand, I much prefer Anthon Mackie’s Sam Wilson to the comic Sam Wilson in that run because comics Sam Wilson just kind of showed up near the end and he was fine and all but Mackie’s Sam had a much bigger and more impactful part in the story. Plus his MCU costumes are just cooler. But I noticed that in the comics he seems to have a psychic connection with actual birds, like he’s Aquaman of the sky or something. Idk I’d have to read more Sam Wilson centered comics to figure out what’s going on there.

3. Thank Fucking God they aged Bucky Barnes up and made him Steve’s childhood friend in the MCU. Props to Ed Brubaker for reimagining the 1940s era hokey boy sidekick into something darker and more complicated but I’m still glad they just throw out the whole premise of the kid sidekick and replaced it with a different dynamic entirely. If Bucky was still a kid who was also secretly an assassin assigned to Cap specifically to do the dirty murder work that would tarnish Cap’s image in the propaganda films, that changes who Steve Rogers is fundamentally as a person. Can you imagine MCU Steve Rogers being remotely okay with any of that... no you can’t. I’m not going to say that in the comics it’s bad... it’s just very different. And I personally loved the dynamic established in The First Avenger... the way Bucky starts out as the bigger stronger more confident guy who could seem like a jerk except that he is best friends with the runt everyone else overlooks or bullies, which kind of reveals the heart of gold underneath the stereotypical big man on campus exterior. But the fact that he’s used to the power dynamic of him being the stronger more popular one means he could theoretically really resent Steven later on when Steve eclipses him by taking the serum and becoming a bona fide celebrity... but instead he reacts by becoming Steve’s loyal follower and hypeman. There’s an initial bit of “what the fuck what happened” especially in the scene where he tries to hit on Peggy but she completely ignores him and only has eyes for Steve... but he very quickly just rolls with it. He accepts the new Steve and his new role as the sidekick. That’s so great. I love that. A friendship that endures through drastic changes and role reversals sets up The Winter Soldier perfectly because the loyalty is so deep it transcends super soldier serum and 70 years of brainwashing. Having him get his memories back through the sheer power of friendship versus Steve just using the cosmic cube as a magical dues ex machina is.... chef’s kiss.

Funny, I sound like a Stucky on main (when I’ve always been more of a Steggy and Sambucky shipper) but just comparing Steve and Bucky in the MCU to Steve and Bucky in these particular comics reinforces to me that this was one of the best decisions the MCU writers ever made. There is definitely still a theme of “Bucky was my only friend” but thank fuck the weird child soldier thing is excised.

That said, Disney/Marvel needs to pay Ed Brubaker because hot damn without him reimagining Bucky as The Winter Soldier there would be no MCU Bucky the way we know him. I doubt they’d even have thought to bring his character back for the MCU at all if The Winter Soldier character and storyline didn’t exist. They improved on the WWII era backstory IMO but 100% we only care about Bucky at all because of what Brubaker did with the character.

4. This just reinforces to me why I had such a negative reaction to Spider-man: Far From Home. Peter Parker is an actual child in the MCU and while it didn’t bother me so much in the previous movies, it’s so glaringly weird in Far From Home. All these adults forcing Peter into a super soldier role is weird as fuck and reflects badly on all of them, especially Tony who is dead. He’s fucking dead and RDJ is done and yet the MCU is still making Tony a literal villain from beyond the grave. Amazing. Someone needs to call child protective services and have him taken away from Aunt May who is not only totally okay with this but is actively enabling it. God! Make it stop. Look what they did to my boy.

(Full disclosure I was obsessed with Spider-man when I was a kid, for years he was hands down my favorite superhero character, but that was all based on the mid-90s cartoon that aired on UPN Kids and then the Tobey Maguire movies.)

5. I had a 5th thought but it is gone now.

[intothestarkerverse]

Paper Hearts

The Starker-Office AU the world needs.

Tony Stark is a paper salesman who hates his job but is secretly in love with the beautiful receptionist. A glimpse into their unorthodox courtship and happily ever after.

Tony Stark hated his job.

Selling paper was one of the most boring professions he could think of, and it had a very obvious expiration date that drew ever closer the more digitized the world became.  At best, he thought, he had another few years before he had to hit the unemployment line and look for another job he despised.  Nothing left to do but collect his paychecks until then, really.

His boss was an idiot.  

Scott Lang was no where near as funny as he thought he was.  His jokes caused Tony actual, physical pain.  The way the guy was a lapdog for Hope from corporate, that was even worse.  Didn’t help that for some reason Scott thought he and Tony were best friends.  The indignities he put up with for this job were not worth the pay check he took home.  Not.  At.  All.

The guy across from his desk was a killjoy.  You’d think Steve Rogers had some amazingly important job with how dedicated he was to it.  First one to arrive.  Last one to leave.  He was a puny little, sanctimonious nerd that Tony loved to play practical jokes on…which was really only one of two things that made the job bearable.  The second?  The second was Peter.

Peter fucking Parker.  

The receptionist.  

Light of his life.  

His reason for waking up in the morning.

The only damn reason he hadn’t left this fucking job in pursuit of something that didn’t make him contemplate using his letter opener to carve a giant hole into the middle of his chest.

Peter was young and beautiful and sweet and he sat directly in Tony’s line of view.  He caught himself staring at the kid way more often than he should.  He would day dream about running his fingers through those fluffy chestnut curls, tugging on the strands in the throes of passion.  He pictured what Peter’s lips would look like wrapped around more than just the straw of his water bottle.  He committed every centimeter of Peter’s face to his memory, knew every piece of clothing in the kid’s wardrobe…enough that he recognized when Peter had treated himself to a new sweater or pair of skinny jeans.  Tony stared because it was all he was allowed to do, and it was the only thing that got him through the day.  Peter caught him, too, but either the kid didn’t realize that Tony was head over heels in love with him…or he didn’t care.  

Tony really hoped it was the former, but it didn’t matter really because Peter had a fiance, Quentin Beck, some handsome asshole from the warehouse who had been promising Peter a ‘happily ever after’ that the kid had yet to realize was really a ‘never gonna happen’.  Quentin wasn’t ready to grow up, settle down, be a fucking man, and Tony had caught him flirting with people who weren’t Peter enough times to know he was a piece of shit.  Quentin Beck didn’t know what he had, but Tony did.  He hated that fucking guy, and the feeling was clearly mutual.

Someday.  Someday, Tony was going to sweep Peter off his feet, steal him away from the asshat and show the kid what a happily ever after should look like.

Someday.

If he ever worked up the nerve.

Until then…

***

Tony leaned against the reception desk, drumming his fingers on the Formica counter and waiting for Peter to finish his call.  Peter glanced up at him through a curtain of eyelashes, biting back a grin and holding a finger to his lips as he quickly scrawled a message on a notepad for Scott.

“Mhm, yeah, no, I’ll totally have him call you back…Yeah…Soon, for sure…Uh huh…Yep, I have here that it’s important so he’ll definitely get back to you…Yep…Cool, okay.  Bye.”  He placed the phone back in it’s cradle carefully and turned his attention to Tony, resting his head in one hand and blushing intensely under the other man’s gaze.  “That was corporate.  You could have gotten me into trouble.”

“I’d never get you into trouble, Pete.  I’d sooner die.”

“This job’s not worth dying over, Mr. Stark.”

“You might be…”

Peter choked out an embarrassed giggle.  “Stop it!  You’re the worst.  Did you just come over here to tease me or did you need help with the copier again?  For someone with half a degree in computers, you really suck with copiers, you know that?”

Tony shrugged, so what if that was one of his many excuses to spend a little time with Peter during the day.  He could hardly be faulted for that.  “Got you a present.  Wanted to make sure you got to enjoy it properly.”

“Oh yeah, what did you get me?”  Peter looked more than a little skeptical, and in all honesty, he probably had a right to be.

“Wait until Rogers gets back from his coffee break and then enjoy the show, Kid.”

“Oh my god, what did you do?”

Tony chuckled, stealing a piece of candy from the bowl Peter filled every week.  “I may have hacked his computer last night…sent him a very official looking email from the US Army inquiring about a very special kind of paper needed for a top secret mission and included a referral from one of his best clients.”

“You didn’t!”

“He’s always acting like his job is a matter of life and death, let’s give the geek a thrill, huh?”

“Mr. Stark, that’s so mean…”

“I could abort the mission if you really think…”

“I mean it would be a shame to waste all that hard work…”

***

“No.”

“Seriously, Steve, I haven’t even gotten to ask…”

“I know, but whatever it is you want, Tony, it can’t be good.  So, no.  My answer is no.”

Tony frowned, hanging his head in frustration for several seconds.  “I know you got Peter in the office Secret Santa thing…”

“How do you know that?  Did you just conveniently skip over the ‘secret’ part?”

Tony was trying really hard to be nice here.  Steve wasn’t making it easy.  “I asked everyone else.  Paid them.  Did them favors.  Tracked down the lucky bastard who was gifting Peter…and Fate hates me, so here we are.  Look, Rogers, I know we’re not friends…”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Mine.  Mine.  It’s clearly mine.  I accept the blame.  I do.  It’s just…I have something planned for Pete and I need to be his Secret Santa.  I will do literally anything.  Name your price.”

“I can’t be bought, Tony.  Peter has a fiance, or did you forget that?  Whatever you want from him, it can’t be good.”

Tony groaned, hitting his forehead against the top of his desk.  “I know Peter has a fiance, Rogers.  Believe me, no one is more aware of Quentin’s existence than I am.  The guy’s a jerk…a bigger jerk than me, and that’s really saying something.  You know it’s true.  He’s a piece of shit and Peter deserves better.  The guy is going to give him some generic piece of crap for Christmas, no thought at all.  You know it.  Peter’s a good kid.  He deserves…he deserves a lot more than that shithole.  Let me give him something nice.  I’m not going to break up his relationship.  I’m not going to lead him down the path of temptation.  I just want to give him something nice and make him smile without him feeling like he needs to do something for me, okay?  Rogers…I’m begging you.”

Steve stared at him for several long minutes before he sighed and nodded.  “Fine.  Yeah.  Okay.”

“Bless you, Steve Rogers.  Consider this our armistice.  War over.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

***

Tony had never wanted to hug anyone as badly as he wanted to hug Peter in that moment.

The kid looked defeated.

He was seated at a little card table towards the back of the comic book shop with several stacks of his own self-published comic in little piles all around him.  

No one was stopping to look at them.  To talk to him.  To acknowledge his existence at all.

His eyes were glassy.  The kid was literally minutes away from crying and he just couldn’t let that happen.

“Just your luck that you’d have your debut on a rainy day, Parker.”

Peter jumped, scrubbing a hand over his cheeks and putting on a brave face as he looked up at Tony with a paradoxical mixture of relief and fear.  “Tony!  You…you came.”

“Course I came.  Wouldn’t miss this for the world.  But seriously, you know rainy days are terrible for business, right?  It’s a proven fact.  Why…I’ve never seen so few people in here before.  Gotta be the weather.”

“Yeah…no, yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”  Peter looked like he didn’t quite believe Tony, but he was also apparently eager for an excuse to explain his lackluster turn out.  Had anyone else from the office even come?  Ass holes.  All of them.  And where the fuck was Quentin?

“So, let’s see…”  Tony reached out for one of the books, carefully flipping through the pages and perusing the content with a little humming noise.  “Hey, now, do you take inspiration from people you know?”

Peter was blushing.  “Maybe…”

“No maybe about it, Peter, you cannot tell me this handsome bastard isn’t based off me.”  He flipped the book around, tapping at an image of a roguishly handsome superhero in crimson and gold armor.  “You know I’m a raging narcissist, right?  I was going to buy a book anyway, but now I have to buy the whole series cause I’m one of the stars.  You in here, too?”

Peter nodded slowly, his blush darkening.  “Yeah…but I won’t tell you who.  You’ll have to figure that out…”

“I do love a challenge.”  Tony closed the book and reached out to add one from every pile to the one in his hands.  “So, how much?”

“Um…they’re ten a piece but…”

“But obviously that’s much too low so I’ll give you a hundred for the set of five.”

“Tony, no…”

“Fine.  A hundred and fifty it is.  You’re a tough negotiator, Pete.”

“Tony!”  The smile on Peter’s face was worth every fucking penny.  And who needed to eat, anyway?

***

“Mr. Stark!  You promised that the goatee was not because of my comics.”

Peter was standing at his desk with both hands over his mouth.  His face was as brilliantly red as the home made Halloween costume Tony had donned for work that day…the costume he had based entirely off of Peter’s comic and the character he just knew was based on him.  Had to be.  And dammit, if he was right…if he was right, than Peter had even made himself Tony’s fucking love interest…and wasn’t that just the most interesting thing he’d ever read in his whole damn life?

“So, I lied.  It’s not my fault. You’re such a damn good artist that I took one look at my comic book self with that awesome facial hair and said, ‘Fuck, Tony, why did you never realize that you’d be even more devastatingly attractive if you just had an impeccably groomed goatee?’  The world has you to thank for it, Pete, and I’m definitely keeping it because it’s been a hit.”

Peter’s hands dropped from his face to his sides.  He was chewing on his bottom lip, looking pensive.  “Who…I didn’t know you were dating anybody Mr. Stark.  I’m glad…they like it.  I guess…”

Tony didn’t bother to correct him.  Not yet.  A little jealousy might do the kid some good, let him know how much Tony wanted to choke the fucking life out of Quentin every time that piece of shit showed his face.

***

Peter was wearing a new soft blue sweater over a button down shirt and Tony was trying very hard not to swoon over how fucking adorable he looked.  He was playing with his gum, winding it around his finger before popping it into his mouth to begin again.  He had his phone concealed in his lap so no one could see him playing on social media while he was supposed to be working.  That was probably why he didn’t hear Tony approach until the man was standing directly in front of him, leaning against the reception desk and looking at Peter with what Tony recognized was something very close to the heart-eye emoji.  God, this kid.  

He really couldn’t take it anymore.

He had to make a move.

Be brave.

Be bold.

Be the fucking hero in that kid’s comic.

“What are you doing tonight, Pete?”

Peter jumped a little, looking up at Tony with a little flush of surprise.  “Tonight?  I don’t know.  Quentin’s got poker at Drax’s, so probably just going to lay in bed and catch up on Netflix.  Why?”

Tony smirked, dropping something on the desk in front of him.

“Oh my god, how did you get this?  It’s not even supposed to be released for another two weeks…”  Peter’s excitement was quelled by the sudden realization, “Is this a bootleg?”

Tony nodded.  He was never going to admit to how much he’d spent for a bootleg copy of something he cared absolutely nothing about because in the end…it was going to be completely worth it.  “Come over to my place tonight.  We can break the law together.”

“You think if the FBI raids your place while we’re in the middle of it that we could at least be cellmates, Mr. Stark?”

“Don’t worry, Pete, I’ll protect you in the prison yard.  No one would dare put a hand on you.”

“I’ve always thought you’d make a great prison husband.”  The witty banter ground to a halt with Peter’s last quip, his light brown eyes flaring wide.  His mouth had runaway without his better judgment, but Tony wasn’t quite ready to let it go yet.

“Oh, I’d make a great husband, prison or not.”  Tony held Peter’s gaze for a second longer than was probably comfortable for both of them, the kid’s face was red as a cherry tomato when they were interrupted by the sound of an exasperated sigh from behind them.

“Tony…could you just grow up already?  Some of us are actually trying to work…”

Peter giggled into his hand, leaning to the side to look around Tony at Steve Rogers’ desk.  “I thought you and Mr. Rogers had finally ended the Civil War, what did you do this time?”  He was careful to keep his tone soft enough that it didn’t carry.

“Hm?”  Tony was still distracted by thoughts of Peter as his prison wife, but managed to pull himself out of it to look back over his shoulder and shrug.  “I super glued everything to his desk last night.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

Peter was under his desk now, hugging his sides and laughing himself breathless.  

***

It was far from the first time he and Peter had spent time together outside of work.  They were friendly, in fact.  Quentin didn’t share any of Peter’s interests, and that left plenty of things for Tony to exploit.  Movies Quentin wouldn’t be caught dead seeing.  Video game releases.  Comic conventions.  Hell, Tony had even gone to a few games of D&D with Peter because he would take literally any excuse to spend time with that kid.

Now, they were cuddled up on Tony’s couch in his apartment with enough snack food to weather the apocalypse and a bootleg that Peter was dying to see.  Though, for something Peter was dying to see, he didn’t seem as enthusiastic about watching it as he had earlier that day.

“Pete?  You okay?  Something happen after work?”  He’d been fine when they’d said their goodbyes that day.

Peter ran a hand through his curls and let out a long, shaky breath.  “I think Quentin might be cheating on me.  I don’t have proof but…Drax didn’t know anything about a poker game tonight and it’s just, it’s little things, you know?  I found this little church I really liked for the wedding and I mentioned it to him, that we could maybe set a date…but he brushed me off.  MJ…you know from customer service?  She says I’m an idiot, that he’s never going to marry me and now I’m afraid she’s right…do think she’s right, Tony?”

Tony reached out, drawing the younger man close and inhaling the scent of his shampoo as he tucked Peter against his chest.  “You’re not an idiot, Peter.  You’re way better than that piece of shit in the warehouse deserves.  You’re beautiful and smart and funny and talented, and if you were mine…we’d have fucking eloped the second you said you’d marry me.”

Peter pulled back with a watery smile, “Yeah?”

“Mhm.  They increased the limit on my credit card last month.  Enough for two tickets to Vegas, a week long stay in a crappy casino and a quickie wedding chapel.  I’d lock that shit down before you had a second to realize that you could do better than me, too.”

“Better than you?”  Peter sounded as if that idea was more insane than eloping to Vegas minutes after a marriage proposal.  “Tony, there isn’t anyone better than you.”

“If you believed that, you wouldn’t be with that piece of shit, Quentin Beck.”

Now, Peter just looked confused.  “In what universe did I ever have a choice between you and Quentin?”

“This one.”

Peter’s head slowly canted to one side, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing.  “No…”

“Oh yes, Pete.”  Never in his wildest dreams had ever thought that Peter thought Tony was out of his league.  Was the kid blind?  Did he not own a mirror?  Did he not know how brilliant and funny and talented…  “Oh yes..”  Those last two words were repeated a hair’s breadth from Peter’s lips as Tony leaned forward to bridge the distance between them.

It was everything Tony had ever thought it would be and so much more.  Peter’s lips were soft, his whimpers were music to Tony’s ears.  Tony let himself bury his fingers in those chestnut curls and inhale the scent of him, revel in the taste of him, live in that moment as if it was the only one he was ever going to get.

The kiss went on until neither one of them could breath, until they were forced to pull back with heaving chests and swollen lips.  Peter stared at Tony for several seconds before he threw off the blanket and walked out of the room.

What.

What the fuck.

Tony was dumbfounded.  Was Peter not into it?  Had he just been shot down?  Was Peter not even going to talk to him…

No.

No.

Peter was back.

With his laptop?

Tony frowned, watching as Peter dropped the computer in his lap followed by something small and golden.  Glancing up, Tony caught sight of Peter’s now empty ring finger.

“Put your money where your mouth is, Stark.”

Tony stared. “What…”

“Two tickets.  Vegas.  ASAP.”

“Wait…”  He couldn’t be serious.

“No, you said you wouldn’t make me wait.  I already Snapped Quentin.  We’re broken up.  I’m single…but I don’t want to be.  So buy me those tickets to Vegas and a ring…when we get there.”

Tony slowly opened the laptop, stealing glances at Peter ever few seconds as he booted it and pulled up a travel site.  “You’re not…this isn’t a joke, right?”

“Not a joke.  You’re not the only one who’s been pining, Tony Stark.  Why do you think Quentin hated you so much?  He knew I was super into you…hell, Tony, I made you my lover in my comics…You’ve been my unattainable crush since I started my job.  You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met. Most supportive.  We have fun together.  We have a lot in common.  We just…”

“Yeah.”  Tony was smiling now, not even second guessing himself as he typed in his credit card numbers.  “I don’t know if we can get a week off work…”

“Four day weekend is good enough for now.  I’ll call Mr. Lang and let him know we won’t be in.  I’ll have to tell him why…”

“God help us.”

***

Four days later when Tony and Peter returned to work in the same car, they arrived to find an impromptu wedding shower waiting for them.  Quentin had quit.  Left all of Peter’s stuff in the warehouse in a pile in the middle of one of the docking bays. But whatever, the less they had to see of that prick the better.  Scott seemed happier about their elopement than they were, and he’d gone to great lengths to print up t-shirts proclaiming that everyone in the office ‘shipped Starker’.  Even Rogers was wearing one.

Tony pretended to hate it.

Really he fucking loved it.  

Maybe his job wasn’t the absolute worst after all…