#because my father has two tasks in the house: to turn on the heat when he gets up and to open the dog door

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

This has been the most series of unfortunate events morning.

[pricelessemotion]

Starstruck and Metal | E.M.

Summary: [4.3k] you meet eddie for the first time. it doesn't go quite like you expected.

Pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!music journalist!reader

Warnings: none!

Notes: huge thank u to my bestie chuck for beta reading 🫶 also if you solve the crossword hint i love u

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InStereo magazine was not The Rolling Stones, but it was a start. The modest music magazine had a humble following, enough to earn some hums of recognition whenever someone made the mistake of asking what you did for a living. Most days, it’s great. You relish in the joy of working in a field some people only dream of entering. The leap from column writer to main article was a large one, but you insisted that you were ready. Your first assignment as a music journalist and of course you got stuck with Eddie fucking Munson. 

Any self-respecting music journalist, anyone with some skin in the game would have laughed in the face of their editor. But instead, you smiled. You nodded enthusiastically, mimicking the bobblehead that has since been removed from your desk. When you decided to become a music journalist, you wanted to write about people who were changing the field. Instead, you were being tasked with writing some puff piece being used to save a wannabe rock star’s reputation. God forbid you gain the reputation of being a difficult woman–in a male-dominated industry no less–by turning down such a great opportunity.  

Even if that opportunity included spending a day with Eddie fucking Munson. 

You paid out of pocket for the cassette of Corroded Coffin’s debut album that was currently underscoring your drive to West Hollywood. You refused to meet the frontman without having listened to their music beforehand. They were good. A little rough around the edges, but it was to be expected. Outside of the occasional headlines, you hadn’t heard much about Eddie or his band. Corroded Coffin was making ripples, not waves. Of course, no one really cared about the music when they could be reading about who and what their lead vocalist was doing. 

Still, you find yourself parking outside of a humble ranch-style home in a neighborhood full of similar housing that likely cost a fortune to live in. The modest proceeds from Corroded Coffin’s tour have obviously paid off, considering that nice area and affordable don’t usually exist in the same sentence when talking about LA housing. The June sun is beating down on the empty street, and you’re thankful that you decided to wear a T-shirt and jeans. You tell yourself that the sweat collecting on your brow is from the heat and not nerves. 

Double-checking that you have the right address, you slam the door shut on your sedan and take a deep breath. The air feels cleaner here, less smoggy. You’re not sure if it’s because of the altitude or the tax bracket of the people who live here. Probably both. You reach into your purse and feel around for what you already know is inside. Pen. Notepad. Tape recorder. The holy trinity for a music journalist. 

There were very few topics that Eddie wasn’t willing to talk about. You guess that when you’ve had your insides strewn across the pavement for everyone to see, you don’t bother trying to uphold any semblance of mystique. Beginning the daunting trek toward your assignment, you remind yourself of two things:

1) Don’t ask about his father 

2) Don’t ask about what happened in Hawkins, Indiana in 1986

The first rule seemed simple enough. As far as the public was concerned, Eddie Munson came to Hawkins at the age of 12 to live with his Uncle Wayne like how a fully formed Venus sprang up from sea foam. He wasn’t and then he was. End of story. The fact that Eddie’s management went out of the way to make sure his father wasn’t brought up only made you more curious. 

The second rule was a little harder to accept. Anyone who knew anything about Eddie Munson wanted to know about 1986. Despite the fact that his highly publicized murder charges and subsequent exoneration are part of what caused Corroded Coffin to skyrocket to fame, he’s remained very tight-lipped about the whole situation. He plays off every question about it in interviews with a smirk and a sly comment. Just charming enough to get away without answering. Just vague enough to keep people guessing. Maybe his publicist wasn’t such a waste after all. 

Eddie Munson opens the door a few moments after you ring the bell. Using a ringed hand to shield his eyes from the midday sun, he squints at you. A pair of sweatpants hang low on his hips. He has a severe case of bedhead despite the fact that the time on your watch indicates that it’s nearly two in the afternoon. The confusion that draws his brows together also indicates that he has absolutely no idea who you are. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you state your name and purpose before realization graces his features. 

“It’s you! Shit, yeah! You’re here for the– the thing!” He tosses a careless look over both of his shoulders before widening the opening. “Come on in.”

Eddie closes the door behind you and rushes down the hallway in order to put some real clothes on, leaving you standing in the empty living room. The inside is surprisingly clean for someone who’s gained the reputation of being a hot mess. It smells like cigarettes, weed, and lemon pledge. The lemon scent is strongest as if someone was trying–and failing–to use it to cover up the previous two. A record player is tucked into a corner, the vinyl still spinning. A line of electric guitars is propped up against the back wall, each of them no doubt costing more than your monthly rent. One of the stands is noticeably empty and you glance to your left to see a beat-up acoustic resting on the couch. On the coffee table, there are piles and piles of scrap sheets of paper. For most of them, the handwriting is too illegible to read or it’s been crossed out. Eddie seems to write lyrics like he lives his life: fast and all over the place.

Stepping closer, something along the upper corner catches your eye. Slyly lifting up a pile of paper, being sure not to disturb the configuration, you find that your suspicions are correct. Eddie received the same copy of Sub Rosa as you did. Obviously, it didn’t go over well. He’s used a pen to black out his eyes. Much to your amusement, you see he’s also drawn horns and a tail. The hand that’s flipping off the camera is illustrated to be holding a pitchfork. 

That’s not the full extent of Eddie’s doodling, though. On the bottom right-hand corner of the magazine, there’s a smaller picture of him standing next to a certain brown-eyed beauty. You’re quick to note that he’s drawn a crude halo and angel wings on his long-legged companion. They’ve been scribbled out as an afterthought, making the halo look more like a crown of thorns. 

So, you think to yourself, he’s a little immature. You can work with immaturity. Immaturity means that he won’t be as guarded as some of the other celebrities your coworkers have had the misery of meeting. In fact, from what little you know about Eddie, you wonder if he even has any guard at all. He did leave you alone here with stacks of potential songs for his band’s next album. If you were a better journalist and a worse person, you would probably take the time to decipher his chicken scratch and see if you could glean any insights into his creative process. But you don’t. Instead, you release the stack of papers and wait. 

For a moment, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’ve never been inside of a famous person’s house before. You’re not sure if you should sit down and make yourself comfortable or if Eddie has something else planned for the two of you to do. The specifics of your assignment were intentionally vague, most likely to accommodate Eddie’s spontaneity. 

Venturing further into the living room, you come to stand in front of a shelf. Brushing your fingers across the collection of vinyl, you tilt your head to read the names along the spines. There are the usual suspects–Dio, Metallica, and Judas Priest–but what surprises you is that, in the midst of all the metal and hard rock, there’s an array of old-school country music. At the end of the lineup is the most surprising one of them all; Sentimentally Yours by Patsy Cline. It’s exceedingly worn, cracks and creases litter the empty sleeve. If you were a betting woman, you would say that the record is currently on the player across the room.

A muffled crash followed by a string of curse words breaks you out of your reverie. Eddie opens the bedroom door with the finesse of someone who is obviously used to being the center of attention. He’s traded his sweatpants and tank top for a pair of ripped black jeans and a v-neck. It felt reassuring to know that you hadn’t underdressed for the occasion. 

It also gives you a moment to drink in the blinding light that was Eddie Munson. He’s leaner in person. Though he always looked lithe in every photograph you saw of him, his frame seemed more imposing and large. Maybe all the stars just look that way when they’re so high above you. 

He was taller, too. The boots on his feet surely aided in that, given that the soles were at least an inch thick. Still, you didn’t anticipate how much you would have to tilt your head up just to look him in the eyes. 

There, standing in Eddie Munson’s rented living room, you realize something; You’re absolutely starstruck. 

Although you had turned up your nose at the prospect of interviewing him and regarded his reputation with the same disdain you reserved for bad drivers and shitty landlords, you were still a person after all. 

With all of the stars around, it’s easy to think of Los Angeles as the center of the universe. But you are not a star or anything even close to it. You’re some space debris, hopelessly floating and waiting for something bigger to come around and influence you with its gravitational pull. 

Eddie is a heavenly body. You can’t help being pulled into his orbit. 

“So, I see you’ve found my collection.” His voice is still rough with sleep. The sound makes you weak in the knees. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.” You mumble, tucking Patsy Cline back into the shelf. “You’ve got some really good stuff here.”

“Don’t worry about it. Actually, that reminds me, I have something for you.” He swiftly turns and stalks back towards what seems to be his bedroom, motioning for you to follow him. 

The blood rushes out of your cheeks. The terms of your interview suggested that you would have a lot of access, but this was different. This was up close and personal. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own because while you’re still wrapped up in the fact that you’re gonna see Eddie Munson’s bedroom, you’re already following him down the hallway and through the open door. 

It’s about as messy as you would expect. The furniture is all pale wood and earth tones, fitting the mid-century modern stylings of the rest of the house. You suspect that Eddie took the time to clean up a little while you were rifling through the stacks of paper. The bed is haphazardly made. There’s an ashtray on his bedside table, filled with the remains of a few cigarettes. 

“I’m not supposed to smoke inside. Shh.” He brings his index finger to his mouth, pink lips barely brushing the skull ring he’s wearing. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You let out an airy laugh. Being reprimanded for smoking inside is the least of Eddie’s worries and you both know it. 

Eddie’s nimble fingers skim the top of the dresser, brushing aside even more sheets of scrap paper. A couple of guitar picks plummet to the floor, but he pays no mind. 

“I heard that metal isn’t usually your thing.” He remarks, still sifting through the clutter. 

That much is true. While you dabbled in a little bit of everything, not only as part of your job but also as part of your interest in music, metal wasn’t usually the genre you gravitated towards. In fact, the most metal album that you had listened to recently was written and produced by the man standing in front of you. 

“It’s not, but I’m open to everything.”

“Aha! Here it is.” Eddie holds up the cassette like it’s the key to the universe. Handing it to you, you can see that the writing on the sides is reminiscent of what you saw in the living room, though slightly neater. You’re familiar with some of the bands listed, but the songs don’t ring a bell. “I thought I would broaden your musical horizons.”

You gawk at him. For someone whose job is about words, you can’t find any. He took the time to make you a mixtape? 

“Track five is a personal favorite.” Eddie says, leaning towards you and tapping the tracklist, obviously unshaken by your inability to form a coherent thought. 

“Thanks. I’ll give it a listen.” You manage to choke out, tucking the cassette into the front pocket of your purse. 

Looking around the room, you see that there’s a battered copy of The Lord of the Rings on his bedside table. The corners are frayed, and you’re certain that you could accidentally tear the cover off of the paperback if you’re not careful. Cautiously, you trace the spine with your finger, waiting for Eddie to say something. To tell you that it’s the one thing that’s off limits. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching you. Opening it, you can see Property of Eddie A. Munson written underneath the title in a childish scrawl. 

“You like books? I mean–you’re a writer, so of course you like books–I mean, have you read that one?” Eddie is visibly flustered, the words coming out of his mouth at an alarming rate. It almost makes up for the way he rendered you speechless moments ago. 

“I’m more of a Dune girl myself. But, I love The Lord of the Rings. My dad used to read it to me before bed every night.”

“Yeah?” A small smile tugs at his lips before he practically whispers his next words. “Mine too.” 

A flash of something you can’t quite decipher crosses Eddie’s face. 

“Right! Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?” He shuffles out of the room like his life depends on it. You’re still reeling at the fact that he brought up his dad unprompted. Keeping a brisk pace, you put the book down and follow him into the kitchen.

“We have…” He trails off, opening the door to the refrigerator. “Nothing.”

He shuts the refrigerator and dashes to the table by the front door. He mumbles to himself before grabbing a few things, shrugging on a jacket, and finally turning to face you again. A pair of sunglasses covers the half of his face that isn’t plastered with a mischievous grin. From the tips of his fingers hangs a set of car keys.

“You hungry?”

–

You should’ve known that Eddie Munson would try to kill you within 20 minutes of meeting him. Lifting up the garage door, he reveals that the car keys were in fact, not car keys but keys to a motorcycle. The vehicle in question is an absolutely stunning deathtrap. It shines so beautifully that you can see your terrified face in the warped reflection. 

Putting his helmet on, Eddie straddles the bike and looks at you. 

“C’mon.” Eddie smiles wolfishly, tilting the spare helmet towards you. “I’m a safe driver. Promise.”

You’re still standing frozen. His wolfish grin melts into something more patient.

“Hey, if you don’t want to take the motorcycle, just say the word. I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.” 

Despite the sincerity in his voice, you can’t help but take the words as a challenge. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” You profess, though the shake in your voice is evident. Grabbing the helmet out of his hands, you ignore the way your face heats up when your fingers brush.

Eddie takes gross advantage of California’s lane-splitting laws, leaving you clinging to his leather-draped torso for dear life. Outside from the occasional shout of assurance that you can’t understand, the ride is quiet but for the roar of the bike and the wind in your ears. You’re vacillating between being absolutely terrified of crashing and secretly relieved at the fact that you didn’t have to make small talk on the drive from his place to wherever he was taking you. 

You were very close to liking Eddie Munson. Now, you were sure that he was sent as some kind of karmic punishment.

“Parking in L.A. is always a pain. That’s why I love this baby,” He gingerly pats the handles as he kicks the parking brake down. “She can fit basically anywhere.”

You hum in agreement, mostly just happy to have made it to your destination in one piece. While Eddie hops off the bike with ease, you have a little more trouble. Swinging your leg over, your toe catches on the fuel tank, causing you to stumble and nearly fall to the ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Eddie is biting back a smile. He offers a calloused hand out to you. You brush it away out of embarrassment, planting both feet firmly on the ground and taking in your surroundings. 

You had expected Eddie to take you to one of L.A.’s finer dining venues. Somewhere with fancy mood lighting and clientele with pockets so deep that they don’t even bother to put the prices on the menu. His management was footing the bill, after all. 

The building that sits before you is none of those things. The diner is old and slightly dilapidated. Graffiti mars the stucco that hasn’t already crumbled away. The neon sign that says Zazie’s! blinks drowsily, more of an eyesore than eye-catching. 

Eddie opens the door for you. As the bell above it jingles, you’re hit with a rush of conditioned air and canned nostalgia. The walls are covered in artifacts from a bygone era of poodle skirts and letterman jackets. A lonely jukebox sits in the corner, playing a soft hum to a Billie Holiday song you have long forgotten the name of. 

A plump woman sits behind the counter doing the crossword in the newspaper. Likely, the same one you were doing that morning. A thoughtful look is etched into her soft features, and you wonder if she’s also stuck on 57-down: Idle during the heist. The ten-letter space confounded you so much that you were almost late. Luckily, it doesn’t seem like Eddie is the type of person to care too much about punctuality.  At the sound of the bell, she looks up, squints, and smiles. 

“Is that you, Toto?” The glasses that sit on the tip of her nose are attached to a chain around her neck. She lets them fall to her chest, her voice bright and amiable. 

“You know it is, Dorothy!” Eddie gushed, an award-winning smile back on his face. 

They fall into easy conversation, making it obvious that he’s a regular here. You keep glancing at him trying to find hints of ingenuity but there are none. Eddie regards the woman with the warmth and respect that you would expect from a boy scout, not a rockstar. 

Sliding into a booth, Dorothy hands you both a menu and leaves to make a fresh pot of coffee. 

“You have to try the french toast, it’s divine.” Eddie barely steals a look at the laminated folder before folding it back up and putting it down on the table. 

“I’ve never really been a french toast person. I don’t know if I wanna risk it.”

Eddie gives you a pointed look, sunglasses slipping down the slope of his nose. “You rode a motorcycle. How much more risky is a plate of french toast?”

“Maybe that was all the risk-taking I had in me for one day.” You force yourself to shrug noncommittally. You don’t know why breakfast food is the hill you’ve chosen to die on, but you’re going down swinging.

“Well, you already trusted me with your life.” Eddie takes the sunglasses off and tucks his fist under his chin, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. “Think you can trust me with this?”

Suddenly, all of the fight in you disappears. There’s that sincerity in his voice again. You realize then that the best and worst thing about Eddie Munson is how genuine he always sounds.  

“Yeah, I do.”

The smile on his face is so bright that you feel compelled to look away. Eddie orders for both of you. It’s enough food to feed a small army, but it seems that Dorothy is used to it because she leaves the table with a wink and says if y’all need anything just holler! 

“Do you mind?” You say, pulling out the notepad and pen from your purse. 

Eddie freezes for a fraction of a second. It’s almost imperceptible. Almost. In the small amount of time you’ve known him, it has become abundantly clear that Eddie wears his heart on his sleeve. Recovering quickly, he gives you the go-ahead and smiles. For the first time today, his grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“So,” You begin, clicking the button on your ballpoint. “I have to ask. Toto?”

Eddie barks out a laugh. He goes on a whole spiel about how he was having a terrible day and walked into the diner feeling homesick and hungry. When he first came to L.A. he felt like Dorothy stepping into the technicolor world of Oz. Once the novelty wore off, he found himself missing when the world used to be so black and white. Upon telling the wise waitress, aptly named Dorothy, she lovingly told him, Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore. The nickname stuck ever since.

The story almost sounds rehearsed. A perfect sound bite that shows how you can take the boy out of the Midwest, but you can’t take the Midwest out of the boy. And yet, you feel inclined to believe him. Eddie just seems to have that effect on people. 

The food finally arrives and you’re amazed to find that Eddie’s eyes are not bigger than his stomach. He talks about music and his band in between bites of pancakes and hashbrowns, both of them drowned in an inch of syrup. He speaks of his friends back in Indiana with a certain fondness, but you can’t help but notice how avoids naming his hometown. He also never refers to Hawkins as back home, instead saying where I’m from.

Conversation between the two of you flows as easily as the never-ending coffee from Dorothy’s pot. It’s almost too easy to forget that this is an interview. Remembering yourself, you take a moment to ask Eddie one of the harder-hitting questions you have in your back pocket.

“What about Evelyn Chau?”

Eddie winces. The open book that was sitting before you shuts tight with a resilient slam. The mouthful of pancakes and syrup seems to turn to sludge as his chewing slows. Despite having no regard for table manners earlier, he points at his lips and holds up a finger to indicate that he needs a minute to swallow. 

After taking a sip of coffee and wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, he slouches in his seat and crosses his arms defensively. 

“What about Evelyn Chau?” He repeats your question back to you but with an unmistakable air of forced nonchalance. 

You want to crumble under his pointed gaze, but you don’t. You steel yourself with the reminder that asking uncomfortable questions is part of your job description. Besides, it would raise many more alarms if you didn’t ask about the raven-haired model spotted painting the town with him than if you did. 

“Everyone wants to know if you’re together.”

“Everyone.” He exaggerates the word, using his index finger to trace the lip of his coffee cup. “Does that include you?”

The smirk on his face indicates that he’s either messing with you or flirting with you. Maybe both. 

“Well,” you demure. “are you?”

“Evie is just a friend.” Eddie’s still perfectly composed, but the familiarity with which he says her nickname betrays him. His face twitches when he catches his slip-up. “A really close friend.”

It’s already too late. He couldn’t convince you that she was just a friend if he tried. A flash of a crossed-out halo and crooked angel wings comes to mind. 

You’re about to ask him another question, but Dorothy and her impeccable timing interrupts the moment by placing the check on the table. Eddie throws down a few bills from an old leather wallet, while you’re trying to figure out how you can spin a two-hour diner date into an entire article. 

Eddie stretches as he stands up, the hem of his black v-neck raises to expose a tattoo on his right hip that snakes down further than you’re supposed to look. On the other side, you catch a muddled array of purple and red scar tissue. Averting your eyes, you look up and are met with a stony gaze. He caught you staring.

“What do you say we get outta here?”

Because you’re a very stupid, stupid woman, you agree.

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

taglist: @twisted-wonderland-of-wren

[plush-rabbit]

Divinity in Impurity

Request: Okay but what if I actually request solo Simeon and him moaning through prayers and being just totally repressed and painfully turned on because his precious lovely MC makes him go doki doki? And of course a shameful messy clean up :3c I love u bestieee ✨✨💋

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: Couldn’t get this out of my head, I want him to be repressed and emotionally conflicted

-

Simeon enters the House of Lamentation, a gift bag in hand and he’s grateful none of the brothers are home. At least for Beel since the angel is sure that the gluttonous demon would’ve sniffed out the lovely baked goods that he carries. The home is quiet, but he knows you’re here. He sent you a message, confirming that you would be here. The house is empty and it’ll just be you and him, sharing a treat from his home and chatting away. It’s so rare to get you alone and while he’s glad that the brothers are there to protect you, they are also highly possessive, not letting a soul get near you and even less likely to allow someone to be alone with you for so long. There’s a light feeling in his chest, making his lungs expand with air, making him feel as if he’d float away from the simple joy of spending time with you. His cheeks are starting to hurt from the smile he has etched onto his face.

Guilt may lap at him for not informing Luke or Solomon of his whereabouts, but for just once, he wants to be alone with you. He wants to sit and talk about anything other than school work and how everyone can’t seem to focus on the task at hand. He wants to talk with you, learn more about you until you’re all that fills his mind. Or at least, occupy it.

He’s excited, standing at your door and he knocks, a smile on his face. Patience is something that he’s born with, having the time and mind to save those that stray from the path of light, to mentor the young angels, and to grant him his title. Yet, he can’t stay patient. He’s at your door, he can hear you hum and only a piece of wood separates you for him. His patience is thinned, eagerness taking over and he turns the knob to your door. All he wants to do is see you, to be unbothered as he spends time with you and listens to you talk. He wants you, that’s all he wants. The knob is cold underneath his hand, and he steps into your room, greeting you with a wide smile.

The bag tightens in his hands, his eyes widening slightly and smile falling. You stand in front of him, slightly turned away, a shirt pressed against your tummy, your chest bare and legs naked, the only clothing you have on is your underwear, shaped to your body. Your eyes are wide, a heavy flush takes over your face and he’s expecting you to yell, an apology already at his tongue, his eyes dipping for just a moment, catching the swell of your breasts, the lovely aroma of the cream you wear, your fingers that twitch ever so slightly as you grasp the shirt in your hand.

“Simeon?” You call, and he’s quick to dart his eyes back to meet yours- back to where they belong. “I appreciate you coming over, but could you-” you gesture your head towards the door- “you know, leave for a moment?” You smile at him, the shirt in your hands now fisted tightly.

“Ah, yes, of course.” He nods his head, trying painfully to grapes at his composure that is now slipping through his fingers. “I’m terribly sorry,” he mutters, exiting the door, the door clicking behind him.

Rather than sit there and wait, he glances at the door, knowing you’re behind it, your body untethered by cloth and bare. He leaves, his steps quick and quiet, walking away without so much as a goodbye. How could he possibly stay there? How could he look you in the eyes when he was so obviously staring at your body? How could he have done something so raw and primal of him- something that isn’t him.

He hadn’t meant to walk in on you while changing but- he bites his tongue, his face hot and an aching pain in stomach. There is no “buts” or ‘ifs’ or anything of the sort. He should have known to knock before he entered your room. He’s an angel, of course he should have knocked. It doesn’t matter if you two are close, it doesn’t excuse his action for being so forward. He was just so excited to go and see you, to gift you a treat sent from the Celestial Realm. Oh- the treat. It’s still in the bag, protected by a glass casing and covered with tissue papers that glitters under the light. He had forgotten to give it to you in his rush.

There’s no going back now, not when he saw you and had the audacity to even stare at you. He’s humiliated. His face burning and any breath that he has is taken from him, squeezed out of his body and forced out. He runs to the safety of his room, glad that no one seems to be home. He slams the door, his back pressed against the wood and when he closes his eyes, he can still see you- your body bare and nipples pert, your face holding a slight flush. He can see everything behind his eyes. The lock quickly snaps into place, his steps hurried as he walks toward the small table in his room.

He places the bag down on a table as he rests on the chair provided in his room. He leans back, the cushion soft underneath him. The wood is scratched at by his covered hands, his gaze focused on the wall. Simeon mumbles under his breath, an apology said to no one, his bottom lip teased by his teeth.

How could he possibly face you tomorrow? How could he do anything after what he just witnessed and did? He removes his gloves, dragging a free hand down his face, leaving the palm to cover his mouth. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he reaches for it in the same second, half hoping and half dreading that it’ll be you.

It is.

You ask where he went. You even apologize, saying that you mustn’t have heard him.

He laughs bitterly. You apologize to him. He was the one who entered your room without permission, invaded your trust and yet, you were the one who was apologizing. He simply leaves the message on read, not knowing what to tell you. Would you believe him if he told you that he had felt sick? Probably not, but for his sake, you would have, he’s sure of it.

He sucks in a deep breath, his eyes on the wall and there’s an unfamiliar itch in his body. Or rather an itch that he shouldn’t scratch at. Looking down only confirms his suspicion. He’s erect. Could it be from you? He sighs. What a silly question. Of course it is.

It’s wrong of him to even keep the image of you ingrained in his head. “Touch me, O Lord, and fill me with your light and your hope. Amen,” Simeon whispers under his breath, trying so desperately to keep his hands away from his erection. It pains him so, his body growing hotter by the second, sweat starting to bead and eyes watering at the tempting fate of actually touching himself to you. “Please Father,” he whispers, “grant me strength. I can’t- I am but a humble servant of yours. Please take away all these sinful thoughts.”

His chest trembles, his mouth dry and tongue thick. There’s a pressure against his stomach, his hands grip at his thighs, his head bowed and no matter what, you are just in his mind. Perhaps you’re the real sin, the real test in all of God’s Grand Plan. How is he supposed to be an angel when a human of all things is the one that is turning him to sin. The one being who has managed to ruin him, to unthread his wings and have him even think of reaching out to you and be selfish.

The unzipping of his zipper is loud, echoing in his ears, drowning out the holy blood that rushes inside of him. He lets out a sigh when his cock is free, the cool air in his room making contact with the hot flesh. When his hand wraps around himself, he lets out a sob. It’s filthy, but at the same time, it’s something that makes his mouth water and want more. You are the most beautiful sin, the one that he will risk everything for, for just a chance to touch you.

“Please forgive me,” he whispers. He’s unsure of who he’s speaking to. He doesn’t know if he’s asking father for forgiveness, unknowing if his message is reaching out, unknowing if he’s hidden from his light and his view; or if he’s apologizing to you, for walking in on you and now pleasuring himself to the thought of you.

You are all that invades his mind, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the ridges underneath his fingertips pulsing with heat. You stand bare in front of him, your body soft and blemished with little scars and ridges. He tightens his grip, his teeth clenched and jaw starting to ache. He’s touched your hand before, felt how soft you are, how loving your touch can be and he can only wonder if you're still gentle in bed. If you’d play the act of the blushing virgin under him, if you’d whimper and buck your hips if he were to kiss at your neck and cup your sex under his hand. You allowed him to stare, even if it was for just a moment, you had reelected so calmly, smiling at him, acting as if he were your lover who had seen your body countless times before. You are molded under God’s light, given freedom and kissed with the gentle lips of God, birthed and given existence, your path defined only by you, and you’ve allowed him to see that. You had acted so calmly, telling him with a smile if he could excuse himself for a bit. It’s almost as if you were used to that sort of thing. He stops in his movements, his eyes wide and breaths coming out in uneven pants. You live with demons, you must be used to that. To have such devils enter unannounced and watch you strip yourselves from your clothes.

The thought fills him with fury, his lips curled and brows knitted together. Yet, his hand continues to pump at his cock. The ridges near his cockhead tingle under his thumb, his head thrown back and eyes shut tightly.

His thighs tense, the muscles in him pulled taut as his grip tightens. “Something so tainted shouldn’t be the thing to witness you,” he hisses through his teeth, brows furrowed and hips bucking. “It’s outrageous that they’re the ones you live with. Beings so full-” his voice cracks, his head dipping down- “full of sin, touching and dirtying you.” His cockhead leaks with pearly white semen, dripping off his cock in heavy, thick strands.

When he closes his eyes, he can imagine you, dressed in white, spread before him, pleading with him to be gentle- you’d be the blushing virgin, ready to take in God’s Grace and kiss lips so pure that you’ll whine against him. You’ll be under him, your fingers lost in your sex as you tell him that you’ve been waiting for this moment. His pace quickens, his eyes closed as he thinks as to how you’d feel. Your thighs plump and your walls tight around his cock, your sex pulsing under his touch. You’d kiss him and he'd return it. He lets out a cracked moan, his breath sharp and head thrown back.

Beside him, his phone rings. He gives a slight turn, his clean hand going to lift the phone. A deep frown settles on his burning face as he realizes what he’s done and to who he’s done it to. Your image fills his phone, a call from you. He clears his throat, and quickly accepts your call.

“Simeon!” You sound worried and the tugs at his heartstrings and further cements his guilt. “I was worried, you didn’t reply to me. Are you okay?”

“I-” his voice cracks, and with a deeper flush, he clears his throat. He wonders if you know what he just did. He wonders if you would figure out what he’s doing as he listens to your voice. “Ah! I’m sorry, I thought I had replied to you but it seems like I hadn’t. I- uh,” he bites on his lip, trying in vain to muffle his moan- “My mistake. I- I just, I needed to get something,” his voice strains at the last word. “I’ll be over shortly. I promise.”

“Simeon,” the way you call his name makes him tug harder at his cock, “if this is about what you saw, then it’s okay. I know you. You didn’t mean to.” You sound so sweet, trying to comfort him while he’s doing something so perverse. “Listen, if you want, we can forget that that happened and start new, okay?”

“Really?” he breathes out, already closer to his high. “I would appreciate that. I-” His nail grazes over a vein and he lets out a deep groan.

“Simeon, you okay?” You say hurriedly. “You sound hurt.”

“I just bumped into a table,” he laughs breathlessly, his phone pressed roughly into his ear. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” he mumbles. “I’ll be over shortly, my dear. Just wait a moment.”

He barely has a chance to hear you say goodbye before he ends the call. “Fuck,” he groans, snapping his mouth close and turning his head, sliding his hand up and down his cock. Clicking noises fill the room, his cock pulsing in his hand, feeling as if it were about to burst. So heavy and foreign in his hand, Simeon pushes past the thought of his own hand touching himself, and tries to imagine yours. He thinks of your voice, of how you said his name, rushed and high, calling out to him.

You’re this glowing thing, something so pure but also full of sin, so human and lovely for it. You’d be this thing he was able to touch, this person who would love him and beg for touch. Under his wing, you’d be protected, cared and loved. Tears brim his eyes, trailing down his cheeks in hot flashes, sparking and disappearing into nothing before they have the chance to wet his hand. He’s already so close, his stomach knotting together, and body beginning to shake. As he releases, his free hand covers his mouth, muffling his moans that are drenched in cries. His seed is thick, coating his hand and leaving him in burning ropes. He looks at his hand covered in semen and he wonders if you would have been so kind to lick it off of him, to treat him as if it were your finest meal. His cock twitches at the thought, dribbling out more semen onto the seat.

Simeon lays in his afterglow, taking deep, slow breaths, his palm open, his seed dripping onto the floor in syrupy strands. The tear tracks begin to dry, his eyes still watery and the image of his ceiling blurry. With a wince, he stands, and grabs at his soft cock, walking to the nightstand and pulling out tissues. It’s humiliating to cleanse himself, to dry off his semen and to wash his hands. He can’t touch you with his hand, with a hand that had sullied the image of you in his mind, that had gripped at his own cock and covered himself in seed. The semen comes off of him in rushed waves, slipping down the drain and leaving his hand wet and clean as if there was nothing there to begin with. In the mirror, he is greeted by his reflection- messy hair and flushed cheeks, tears in his eyes and puffy lips from being bitten by. He wonders if you’d recognize this dirtied version of an angel when he greeted you. He wonders if you’d still hold his hand that grasped his cock not too long ago. With another message from you, he grabs the sweet he was supposed to bring, giving a glance to the gloves that rest on the arm of the chair. With a sigh, he decides to leave them there, hoping to hold your hand and memorize the feel of it

[ladyartemesia]

The Luna

◐ PART VII of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐ Part VI ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: this one is a little darker... implied violence, mentions of blood, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming, sexual innuendo, discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries, discussions or ruts, (non-explicit) kidnapping and drugging, its not as bad as it sounds, but it is definitely a bit darker...

Word Count: 4200

Author’s Note: You have no idea what your support has meant to me. After getting the dreaded Covid it was awhile before I had the energy to work on this. Truly your asks and your messages and comments...they made me so happy. You made me believe that people wouldn’t forget about this story. I am so grateful you were able to wait. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @underthejoon were the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life! I don’t know what I would do without your daily encouragement and your daily support. You guys are the heartbeat of this story. 

———◐——— 

Fifteen Years Ago...

———◐——— 

“It can’t be-”

“Run for the elders! Quickly! 

“Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

The red smoke was invented by the first wolf known to mate a witch. Legend has it that their bond lent him some of her magic and with it he created a mystical powder that unleashed bloody plumes like knife slashes in the clouds. 

It was a distress call. 

A wolf in danger or in need could throw the powder (usually into their fireplace) and the red smoke would rise - drawing others to their aid. 

No fire was needed and the strange shimmering clouds it produced could even be seen on a moonless night. 

“What happened? Where is the Luna?”

The chief elder was still out of breath, having charged over from his chambers to find Isa in hysterics. 

“She’s gone! Something scared her! It triggered a half-shift!”

His eyes widened in fear and alarm. 

“She’s too young to half-shift. The energy it would take-”

Isa broke into sobs again. 

The girl was only five years old. She and her wolf were too volatile to merge safely. The wolf would be frightened - it would run. 

Eventually the child might regain control, but she would have no way of knowing where she was or how she got there… 

And she would be weak. The effects of the shift were too much for a pup that age. 

The chief elder felt true terror grip his heart. 

“Call for the alphas - immediately!”

Although they were technically one of the oldest bloodlines in the village, Park Clan had only five families to its name - all betas. 

Except for one. 

Park Jimin was the first alpha ever born to the Parks and as such he became the head of his family on the day of his birth - officially the youngest clan leader in history. 

When the call for alphas spread through the village, nine year-old Jimin was roused from his bed to serve on behalf of his people. 

Clan alphas were required to report, regardless of their age. 

“I don’t have to tell any of you what is at stake. Our pack has been entrusted with the Luna’s bloodline. Her safety is our sacred commission.”

The woods were no place for a child. If fluctuating temperatures and possible starvation weren’t bad enough, there were wild bears, packless ferals, rogue witches, snakes, and worst of all-

Unblessed wolves—animals without a human heart. They were by far the most pressing danger to the little girl. 

“Surely young Park can remain at home for this,” Jeon Jinseok pressed. The boy was barely older than his grandson, Jungkook, and he was reluctant to endanger another pup needlessly. 

Some quiet murmurs of assent could be heard around the elder’s chambers, however the chief elder himself shook his head sadly. 

“I understand your concern… but the law is the law. Every clan alpha is sworn to such a task. He took an oath after his first transformation-”

“He was seven-”

“An oath is still an oath.”

All eyes turned to the gentle voice in the corner. The Park alpha looked impossibly small and soft. 

But his gaze burned with determination. 

“It is my right and duty to seek the Luna alongside all of you.” His round little jaw clenched stubbornly. “I’m not afraid.”

The sound of bones and sinew shifting filled the air as one by one the clan alphas fell to their wolf forms and took off into the forest. 

Until only a small silver wolf remained. 

The chief elder sighed. 

The boy would not undergo the Change for another six years. The mental link between his wolf and human forms was not yet complete. It was difficult for information to pass from one to the other. 

“You are the wolf force of Park Jimin.”

After a moment the wolf nodded.

“You were called here because the Luna has gone missing and you must find her if you can. Search the woods until your wolf force can endure no longer and then return. If you find the child, bring her home as soon as possible.”

The young wolf nodded again and then disappeared into the night. 

It was cold. 

The last thing you remembered was a loud noise. It was too close - you panicked-

Then there was heat and pain and running and now this-

Darkness and barren trees looming over you as far as your frightened eyes could see. 

“...Hello?”

Your hands were bleeding. Tears began to slide softly down your cheek as your lips trembled. 

“H-Hello?”

Jimin had never been allowed into the forest alone. A myriad of new shapes and odd smells assaulted his senses as he ran. 

He had only seen you a handful of times. 

Bright silver eyes with a smile that could set even the coldest heart into bloom. 

Now you needed him.

And he was going to save you. 

It was not a question or a matter of chance in his mind. He was meant to find you. It was as if a thread from his chest was bound to a thread from yours and his wolf knew to follow it without question or thought for its significance. 

I’m coming, little Luna. Hold on. 

Your nose was not yet fully developed, but the stench creeping through the air toward you was unmistakable. 

Unblessed. 

A soulless wolf. 

The last time you encountered it was after a hunt. Your father killed one who attacked him and he brought it home for you to scent. 

So you could recognize the smell of danger. 

Gradually two shining eyes emerged from the darkness, yet unlike the wolves of your village, these were dark and fathomless-

Hungry. 

You couldn’t tell much about its age or coloring, it was too thin - too dirty, but the bared teeth and steady progress closer signaled its intent clearly. 

“Please,” you whispered, as it crouched back on its hind legs, preparing to strike. 

Tears blurred your vision as you heard it leap forward. 

But the strike never came. 

Another wolf tackled it to the ground before it could reach you. The two of them tangled viciously in the moonlight; a terrifying mass of snarling and claws. 

The smaller fighter was already bleeding, but he clamped down on his opponent’s throat in the first hit and hung on to it even as the animal snapped and scratched brutally at his skin. 

Jimin could feel his strength beginning to fail him. The pain was excruciating, but he had to endure. If he let go, he was lost- 

You were lost.

So he held. 

And at last the soulless wolf collapsed on top of him. 

For a moment, all was quiet. 

Jimin felt the wounds over his hide begin to tug at the edge of his consciousness. Accelerated healing could only do so much... He was hurt badly. 

Then two small hands began to push at the unblessed corpse. Small huffs and heaves poured from you as you worked to free him from beneath his defeated foe. 

“Don’t be afraid, Silver,” you grunted, “Momma says the healing works best if you can get warm.” 

With one final heave you disposed of the beast as best you could, then moved to wrap your body around your injured champion. 

“I can help,” you whispered, letting the tears fall freely. His soft whimpers were the only reply you received as you snuggled in closer, running your hands gently over the soft fur. 

The young wolf’s eyes were already beginning to lose focus. 

“Please goddess,” you begged into the night. “Please save him.”

Then the two of you drifted into a heavy sleep. 

Jimin opened his eyes again just as the dawn broke. 

He was still in wolf form, but the pain of his injuries had lessened considerably. 

Either that or he was becoming numb. 

His eyes dropped to the figure curled up next to him and his heart stirred. You were so pale… and he could feel your small body shivering violently against his chest.

She will not last much longer...

It took nearly everything he had to stand to his feet and nudge you awake. 

“Will you bring me back, Silver?” you asked weakly. 

Jimin nodded and the two of you stumbled forward into the forest, trusting the vague recollections of his wolf instincts to lead you home. 

Isa was beside herself with worry. Wolves came and went throughout the night-

But there was still no sign of you. 

And the odds of a child surviving the woods alone with no heat and no protection were slim at best. 

Her hands shook as she gathered feed for the horses from the storeroom near the back of the house. She willed herself to complete the task - any task - in an effort to busy her mind and perhaps achieve a moment of respite. 

Her hand closed around the back door handle and she started forward - only to nearly lose her balance over something lying on the porch. 

The bucket of feed dropped from her grasp, sending kernels of grain in all directions. 

Two bodies lay in a heap at her feet, clutching one another desperately. The Luna and her silver wolf were covered in matted blood and dirt. 

But they were alive. 

Isa began to scream, drawing out the other two occupants of the house; her husband Roojin and his younger sister, a beta healer named Ryn. 

“Oh my goddess,” Ryn gasped, “that’s the Park alpha! I heard some of the elders saying that he hadn’t checked in last night!”

“Get them inside. If we don’t act quickly we could lose them.”

Roojin tried to lift you away from the wolf, but the action was enough to rouse you and you immediately began to kick and scream frantically. 

“No! I won’t leave him!” you sobbed, wrapping your body even tighter around the injured pup. “Silver, wake up! Please wake up!”

“Baby you need to let him go! We have to treat him!”

But you were frantic, refusing - violently - to be separated from your rescuer. 

Ryn was eventually forced to grab a syringe from her field kit to sedate you. 

Isa carried your limp body to the fireplace and began to peel off your wet clothes while Ryn and Roojin dealt with Jimin’s injuries in the kitchen. Blood dripped over the tabletop and puddled ominously on the floor while they worked. 

“It looks like he was attacked.” Ryn’s eyes began to water. “What a brave little boy.”

“How the hell did he survive this?”

“I don’t know, but without a healing touch he’ll die.” She ripped her gloves off and rolled up her sleeves. “Stand back.”

Twenty minutes later Isa and Roojin caught the young healer as her legs gave out from under her. She had poured the majority of her energy into restoring the young Park alpha - perhaps more than was strictly safe-

But he would survive and that was all that mattered. 

“I must contact the elders,” Isa murmured as she helped Ryn to a seat near the hearth. “In all the chaos I forgot to tell them that we found her.”

Roojin sighed, letting his eyes drift back to the table. 

“That pup brought her back, but I wonder if they’ll even believe it. I wouldn’t - not if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“No...” Ryn whispered from the chair. “You can’t tell them about the boy.”

“Why not? He’s the only reason she’s still alive. He deserves to be recognized.”

“You don’t understand,” she shook her head weakly. “His clan is nothing. They have no power - no other alphas. This will make him a target. The alpha pups will challenge him and the stronger clans will see him as a threat to their influence…”

She pulled herself upright and limped over to the table where the young wolf slept. 

“But he's just a child….and small for his age at that. He has no powerful clansmen to protect him from the ramifications of this.” 

Her hands clenched to fists. 

“When his human form returns, he won’t remember saving the Luna. We’ll take him to his mother’s home at nightfall - make it seem like he wandered back. He may garner some respect for surviving the woods, but then they’ll leave him alone… and he can go on living his life in peace.”

Ryn turned to face them both with a determined expression. 

“We owe him that.”

“Where is the silver wolf? Where have you taken him?”

As soon as the sedative wore off you reached for the boy once again, only to find that he was gone. 

“The silver wolf was hurt very badly, sweetheart. Your aunt carried him away to be treated.”

“I have to go with him! He needs me!”

“No, honey - you can’t-”

Isa pulled you into her arms and you collapsed into helpless sobs. The last twenty-four hours had finally caught up with you. 

You were too weak to fight back. 

“Luna… the silver wolf is in danger. Are you willing to keep him safe?”

You nodded fiercely, letting the flow of your tears soak through your mother’s sleeves. 

“Then you must never tell another soul that the silver wolf saved you. No one can know that he was with you in the forest.”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“But-”

“You will tell everyone that you found the way back alone. Do not mention the silver wolf.”

Isa lifted your chin till your eyes met hers. 

“Promise me, Luna.”

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest as you thought of your champion. He had spared you from a gruesome fate and you did not even know his name. 

You wanted so desperately to thank him. 

Last night, you were so cold - so afraid - that you hadn’t said it...

Now you never could. 

So instead you would protect him - no matter what it cost. 

“I promise.”

———◐——— 

Today...

———◐———  

“I don’t like him.”

Jimin tilted his head slightly toward his best friend.

“Who?”

Taehyung took a long sip of water then moved his hand to cover his mouth. To an outside observer he would appear to be wiping excess liquid from his lips. 

“The senior envoy from the Iron Claw pack.” He shook his head. “Something about him is off. He’s ill at ease.”

All the major packs of the mountain nations dispatched representatives to greet and solidify their relations with the new Alpha. 

Any pack who failed to send a proper delegation risked a diplomatic incident. 

The first twenty-four hours held great significance when it came to the transfer of power. The official term for the tradition-packed period between the revelation of the Alpha and his ultimate reunion with the Luna was called “The King’s New Moon.”

The new moon was the darkest phase of the lunar cycle and the immediate separation from his mate was meant to be a test of the Alpha’s restraint and bearing. 

Jimin wanted to put his fist through a wall. 

He missed you. 

Fighting Namjoon was nothing compared to the torture of this bureaucratic circus.

As the day progressed he was extremely grateful to have Yoongi and Taehyung at his side. Yoongi agreed to act as interim Praetor while Namjoon recovered and he and Taehyung were quick to fill in any knowledge gaps Jimin had with regards to protocol. 

The first round of ceremonial greetings between packs dragged on more than an hour before the bell struck for a brief recess. In fact, until Taehyung’s rather strange pronouncement, nearly every moment played out with boring predictability.

Though there was one notable surprise. 

Apparently the Iron Claw pack had just undergone a change of leadership and was now under the command of a female alpha named Azira Kai. 

Authority in the Iron Claw pack was traditionally decided through combat, and Azira beat nearly thirty-five challengers to ascend as queen. 

Female alphas were extraordinarily rare. Jimin knew they existed, but Azira was the first one he’d ever heard of. 

Iron Claw’s senior envoy delivered the news himself at the start of the ceremony and personally conveyed the queen’s well wishes. 

Jimin eyed the representative in question speculatively from his corner of the table. At first glance the man seemed much like every other emissary gathered in the crowded hall to fulfil centuries old obligations. But Taehyung had always possessed a strange sense about people. 

His instincts could not be easily dismissed. 

“I will keep that in mind,” he whispered as he sent the young man a courteous nod.

The sun had already begun to set when a messenger from the chief elder’s chambers arrived at your door. At long last the ceremonial requirements were drawing to a close and soon the elder’s council would be sending you instructions.

However...‘soon’ could mean anything from twenty minutes to five hours. 

“You might as well rest while you can,” Jin teased with a salacious wiggle of his brows. “Who knows what strenuous activity you might find yourself involved in when they finally let that boy loose.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to pretend that your cheeks weren’t burning with embarrassment. 

“I will rest, but not for any reason you’re thinking.”

Truth be told, your nerves were a bit… frayed. 

A frustration was building within you and nothing seemed to satisfy it. You weren’t even sure what you were wanting, but you definitely wanted it. 

“Of course not,” your cousin chuckled as you gathered your gloves and wandered back to the bedroom. 

An hour later Jin’s boredom found him snuggled up on the couch near the fireplace reading over an old cookbook from your mother’s pantry.

“Heavens… no wonder Aunt Isa’s kimchi is so dry. This is a disgrace.”

Suddenly the front door began to shake and pound violently. Strange smells carried through the air and his eyes widened. 

Foreign wolves. 

He drew in a deep breath and immediately growled in frustration. 

Foreign alphas.

A small bowl of red powder sat on the mantle above the hearth. Jin just barely managed to toss it into the flames before the door splintered off its hinges. 

“Hello boys,” he drawled, unleashing a massive dose of pheromones while the knives strapped to his forearms slid smoothly to his hands. “What brings you here?”

“I just heard the strangest news,” Min Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the small scrap of paper passed to him by one of the council aides. 

“Oh?”

The next set of guild masters were making their way to Jimin at a snail’s pace. It would be several seconds before he needed to greet them. 

“One of the healers sent word that Namjoon has disappeared from his assigned recovery room.” He shook his head curiously. “Where do you suppose he’s gone?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. 

That mangy mutt. He’s probably bent Yunli over every surface of her brother’s house by now. Goddess above! He couldn’t hold out for six more days? 

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

I should have killed him. This is a disaster. He can barely walk, how does he expect to-

“The Miner’s Guild is honored to serve at the pleasure of the Alpha.”

Jimin nodded regally and forced up a pleasant smile. 

“The honor is entirely mine, Master Lee. I look forward to-”

A loud crash split the solemn hush of the room as a young member of the council guard burst through the heavy wooden doors. 

“Red smoke! Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

Jimin felt his heart plummet into his stomach. 

Chaos erupted immediately. 

“Call for the guards!”

“We must notify the healers.”

“The messengers just spoke to her-”

“Is it an attack?”

“ENOUGH!”

The Alpha’s voice cut across the assembly with authoritative resonance. 

Every eye turned to him in expectation. 

But he could only think of you. 

“Jung, lock the building down. Take your clansmen and seal off every entrance.”

Murmurs began to stir through the hall as Hoseok directed his people toward the access points, but he ignored them. 

“Choi. Make for the healers. Have a dozen of them meet us there.”

Jimin was already heading for the door. The deadly length of his claws flashed ominously in the firelight. 

“Kim, Min, Jeon - with me.”

The three alphas in question fell in step behind him without a word. 

The scene at the Luna’s home was nightmarish. 

Jimin ran to your room immediately, but all he found was a broken window and the lingering scent of your fear. 

His wolf howled in anguish as he fell to his knees and screamed in rage. 

At the front of the house four badly beaten bodies lay strewn about the kitchen and living room area. Most of the furniture was destroyed and the scent of carnage soaked the air. 

“Jin!”

The omega stood at the center of the rubble. There was a nasty slash running up his right leg and another grievous wound near his ribs. 

But his arms were wrapped around a massive foriegn wolf with the thin blade of his favorite knife pressed against the intruders throat. 

“What happened here?” Yoongi gasped. “And that smell-” he moved his hand to cover his nose. 

“Pheromones,” Taehyung nearly gagged. 

His eyes fell to the corpses - examining their injuries with a critical gaze. 

“Jin, you dangerous bastard.”

The omega simply smiled and forced the prisoner onto his knees. 

“I don’t understand…” Jungkook shook his head. 

“He flooded them with omega pheromones... These four were unmated.” The Kim alpha let out a cold chuckle. “He triggered their ruts… and they killed each other over him.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. 

Male omegas really were terrifying.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed and he considered the scene. 

“None of this makes sense. The scent markers are clearly from the Iron Claw pack. They didn’t even bother to mask…”

Jungkook and Yoongi began to search the bodies for any hint of their motives or identity when Jimin returned from your room. His fury was palpable in the air around him. 

“Why would anyone kidnap a Luna?” he snarled. “The divine bloodline is sacred to all wolves. Who would be so reckless?”

Jin shook his head.

“I don’t know.” His knife twisted into the prisoner’s neck. “But he does.”

Jimin crouched down in front of the foreigner, fighting every urge in his soul to tear the mountains apart for his mate.  

“Where is she?”

The prisoner sneered.

“You may be a powerful Alpha, but you are not of my pack or my blood.  I’ll never tell you anything.”

“Oh,” Jimin’s eyes flashed with golden fire, “I think you will.” 

Heavy. 

That was how you felt. 

Your body was sore (like it had been tossed and carried a long distance) and your mind was out of focus (as if everything around you was moving either too quickly or too slowly - honestly you couldn’t quite tell).

You remembered being drugged; some sort of compound pressed against your nose and mouth.  

Glass from the window shattered onto your face…

Then unfamiliar scents and unfamiliar hands closed in on all sides. 

Too fast for you to react.

Too shocking for anyone to have predicted. 

Nothing like this had ever happened and there was no reason to believe it would. 

To harm a Luna was sacrilege. 

It was simply not done. 

What could drive men to such a course of action? 

You should be afraid; terrified even.  

But you weren’t.

Your eyes fluttered open to take your new surroundings. You could vaguely see the shape of seven or eight wolves - alphas by the smell of them-

And then you smiled. 

It wasn’t your usual impish grin or anything close to soft or inviting. 

It was a cold twist that crept over your lips as you watched your abductors set up their camp. 

After a moment, one of them noticed your strange expression. 

“Looks like the little Luna hit her head on the way here,” he called out to his comrades with an amused snort. “You should have been more careful with her, Mac.”

He shook his head and made his way over to where you were tied up. The young alpha reeked so heavily of sweat and self-importance, you almost gagged. 

“What’s got you so amused, Miss Luna?”

It was more of a taunt than a question, but your smile widened nonetheless. 

“My mate is going to kill you.” 

Shock flickered over his features for just a second before he threw his head back and laughed. 

“We’ll be long gone before your sweet little alpha even knows we’re here.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and you snarled. “We masked our scent as soon as we got you - and there isn’t a wolf alive that could track our crew through the woods.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered. 

Jimin’s face flashed through your mind - followed immediately by another memory, buried deeply, but never forgotten—

of a frightened little girl and the silver wolf who braved the forest and fought a monster to save her. 

“He’ll come for me - no matter what precautions you’ve taken.” You leaned forward a bit, letting the conviction in your gaze blaze through to the depths of your captor’s soul. “And then - he’ll come for you.” 

If you are already in the taglist, then I will automatically tag you for the next part! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

And also please tell me what you thought of this update! I am really excited to hear your thoughts! (I know it was kind of unexpected right?) Feedback really does fuel my writing and hearing from you means a lot to me! On days that its hard to write, I go back and I read your lovely words and it makes me want to keep going! I cannot overstate its value in my heart! 

[chatonne-rousse]

Be Bold, Be Kind, Be Brave

This is one akuma whose intentions are good. After all, who couldn't use an extra dose of courage to overcome fear?

A superhero whose identity will be immediately revealed in the process, for one.

When an akuma causes several secrets to come to light all at once, our heroes will need to drum up some courage to face their fears - and each other.

But what's waiting after that looks like it might be a dream come true. It'll just take a bit of bravery and a lot of heart. Piece of cake.

***

Only eight days late and several dollars short, I’m wishing @jennagrinsoverml a happy belated birthday with this gift, written just for her.  ILY, my friend!  

Read it on Ao3 here.

***

Ladybug has to give Courageous some credit: she's a rarity, an akuma born of selfless means. A teenager who hadn't mustered the courage to stand up for a younger student being bullied at school, she'd been so ashamed, so angry with herself, that Hawkmoth had found an easy target to ply with honeyed words and promises.

Her power isn't even a terrible one. The beam of light she shoots from her right hand simply causes the person it strikes to relive the last encounter they had when their bravery failed them, this time with courage aplenty. It's admirable, really.

Admirable, but terrifying nonethless.

(The fear of Chat Noir finding out her identity is deep and dark and often floats to the surface of her nightmares with blue eyes and white hair and a drowned, ruined world. He cannot know. The cost is too high.)

"Whatever you do," she calls to her partner, frantic and scared, "don't let her hit you! Please, Chat!"

She hears the desperation in her own voice, and the look on his face conveys that he certainly does. He nods solemnly.

"I'll do my best, My Lady."

She nods back, and off they go into the fray.

For well over an hour, they fight Courageous through parks and plazas, sidewalks and thoroughfares. All around them, the people of Paris have squared their shoulders, lifted their chins, and braved conversations big and small with people only they could see.

Ladybug has to smile as she hears a young man confidently ask for a raise and watches his eyes light up at the response.

That smile fades when she remembers once again that the last time her courage had failed her was just as they were dismissed for lunch break, when she'd tried to invite Adrien to a movie that weekend. His eyes had been so kind as he'd waited for her to gather her words properly, and somehow that had just made it harder.

Then Lila had "accidentally" tripped and knocked into her, sending her to the floor. The memory of Adrien's hand reaching out to her to help her up, those same kind, patient eyes locked on hers, makes Ladybug's cheeks heat even now. But after she was upright again, after Lila had stalked off because no one seemed to care that she "probably would need surgery now because her arthritis would flare", Nino had reminded Adrien about the gig he was DJing on Friday and Alya had led her away to show her something on her phone.

Just like that, her opportunity was gone.

And that would be fine, honestly. Marinette was used to moments of stuttering and botched declarations when it came to Adrien.

But if she's hit by Courageous, Chat Noir - plus the citizens of Paris, Hawkmoth, everyone - will hear Ladybug try to ask Adrien Agreste on a date, and that will be a disaster of epic proportions.

"Ladybug, look out!"

Chat's body slams into hers, sending them rolling on the sidewalk just as a beam of magical light zips over their heads. In a flash, Chat Noir bundles her in his arms and vaults them to the rooftop above, making sure she's steady on her feet once they land.

"Thank you, Ki-" The words die in her throat when she sees over her partner's shoulder that Courageous has followed them.

Chat turns, his baton at the ready, while Ladybug reaches for her yo-yo, but neither is quick enough to stop the akuma's beam from finally finding one of its main targets.

"I'm sorry, Bug," he murmurs as his eyes glaze over.

Using her yo-yo as a spinning shield, Ladybug drags her partner behind the nearest chimney stack just as he begins to speak.

Panic sets in as her mind screams at her over the hum of her yo-yo, the akuma's laughter, her partner's voice.

I can't just leave him!

"Father, may I come in?"

Oh no, oh no, oh no. I can't hear this!

"Yes, Nathalie said she penciled me into your schedule for noon."

Nathalie?

Ladybug's gaze snaps to her partner, yo-yo still spinning to deflect beams of light. She's surprised to find Chat Noir's head bowed in deference, though his eyes shine with a confident gleam.

"I requested this appointment to ask you again if I could attend the event with my friends tomorrow evening. I've already completed my assignments for school and the homework from my Mandarin tutor."

Mandarin tutor? What?!

"Yes, Father, I'm aware that you don't care for Nino, but..."

The panicked scream in her mind gives up any attempt at coherence; by this point, it's no more than a muddled loop of Nathalie, Mandarin, Nino, Father.

Ladybug feints to the left to avoid being hit by the akuma as a mix of terror and adrenaline floods her system. She leaps forward, leaving Chat behind the chimney in the hope that she can engage the akuma just long enough to get her partner back and finally, finally finish this off.

She knows too much already. The cat has bolted straight out of the bag and is running loose on this rooftop beneath her feet, a distraction she can't handle right now.

On hero autopilot, she hurdles one beam after another, then tucks and rolls and pops up to roundhouse kick Courageous in the chest, sending her flying.

She hears the akuma's "oof" just as Chat Noir's jubilant voice rings out from behind the chimney.

"Thank you, Father! Thank you so much!"

She can hear his grin in those simple words, the sheer joy in being given permission to leave the house. Everyone in their class knows what a tight leash Gabriel Agreste keeps on his son. It breaks her heart every time she thinks of it. In fact, she's successfully fought for his release from that marble prison on more than one occasion! So yes, she'd already known with all the clues in place, but there was truly no mistaking it now: that was Adrien talking to his father.

Because Adrien is Chat Noir.

Her heart cracks. Oh, Chaton.

Suddenly, the akuma's progress in clambering to her feet is impeded by the whoosh and subsequent metallic thunk of Chat's overhand swing with his baton.

Relief floods her heart at the return of her partner. No matter who he is, Chat Noir is her other half, and Ladybug is never quite herself without him.

"Maybe we could use a little extra luck, My Lady!" Chat winks at her over his shoulder before facing the akuma again.

"Yes! Right! You bet!"

Get it together, Marinette, she thinks. Her face heats and she scampers away to the safety of the chimney stack where Chat was hidden to call for her lucky charm.

A red and black spotted can opener drops into her hands and she looks at it in confusion. "What am I supposed to do with this?" she grumbles, looking around frantically but seeing nothing to help her decipher how to use the lucky charm.

She takes a deep breath, peeks out from behind the bricks, and promptly takes a light beam to the face.

No, no, no, no!

It feels vaguely like having a water balloon popped on her head, a chill of sensation dripping down her spine and rippling through her nerves. It's a small mercy that being hit by an akuma rarely hurts physically. Her vision swims like a mirage in the desert, the familiar courtyard at school coalescing from vapor around her.

The last thing she sees is her partner's stricken face.

The last thing she hears is the akuma cackling.

"Heylo! Who! I mean," she takes a deep breath, a rush of confidence tingling along her nerves. "Hey, Adrien!" She smiles and gives him a little wave.

His grin takes her breath away. "Hi, Marinette! How are you?"

"I'm great!"

You can do it, you can do it!, her heart sings, and miraculously, her brain listens. Her smile turns coy. She taps her lip with her index finger. Her pulse pounds a bolstering tattoo in her ears. Go for it, girl!

"But I could be better."

Adrien's smile drops a fraction. "Are you okay? Is there something I can do?"

With another deep breath, she squares her shoulders and looks him in the eyes, her very cells imbued with a courage unparalleled even when she's wearing spots. She could do anything, anything, right now, but she has her mind set on accomplishing one thing and one thing only.

"You could join me for a movie on Saturday."

"I could...?" His brows furrow, but his grin grows slowly, bright but incredulous. "Are you asking me....?" He blinks, takes two shallow breaths. "Do you mean just the two of us?"

She nods decisively. "A date."

You did it. You did it! A veritable party erupts in the back of her mind, radiant relief spreading to her fingertips. It feels so good to finally break through her anxiety and fear and ask him that simple question that felt like an impossible task just a few hours ago.

Thankfully, he doesn't keep her waiting. The answer is in his eyes, anyway. "I would love to," he breathes, cheeks pink and smile dazzling.

"Really?" Marinette squeaks, and now it's his turn to nod.

"I'll be there even if I have to sneak out." Adrien reaches for her hand and gives it a little squeeze. "We'll talk about it later today, okay?"

She nods again, her chest so full of emotion she can barely breathe. Not only did she ask him, but he said yes!

Suddenly, blue sky fills her vision and she regains awareness to the sound of a scuffle on the other side of the chimney stack. Ladybug tentatively gets to her feet, reaching for her yo-yo and setting it spinning immediately. This time there's no peeking around the corner; she bursts from behind the bricks on the offensive, ready to finish the fight.

What she finds is Courageous struggling under Chat's baton, twisted up like a pretzel and unable to move for the steel-toed boot resting across her shoulders.

"Just in time, LB!" Chat crows triumphantly. He tosses her a bracelet emblazoned with the words Be Bold, Be Kind, Be Brave that currently pulses with Hawkmoth's dark energy.

In moments, the bracelet is broken, the akuma is freed and purified, and a confused teenager sits where Courageous was restrained a moment ago.

Chat docks his baton at his back and looks at his partner with the softest eyes she's ever seen, a tiny, equally soft smile playing at his lips.

Her heart sighs. Adrien. That's Adrien, and he knows.

The lucky charm sits heavy in her palm. Abject fear makes her hope against hope that she won't remember his identity when she casts her miraculous cure, just as her heart longs to hold on to the knowledge that her precious partner is the boy of her deepest desires, and maybe, maybe they really can have it all.

With a deep breath, she throws the unused can opener into the air, watching magical ladybugs and healing light burst forth and spread throughout the city. She waits, holding her breath, but when pink light swirls around them, the only affect it has is the healing of the twinge in her ankle from when she fell mid-fight.

She looks up, and her partner's eyes say it all.

He remembers, too.

Even as fear grips her heart, radiant joy shines from his face as his grin spreads. It scrunches his eyes behind the mask and pinkens his cheeks, delight seeming to glow from his pores. Ladybug has never seen her partner so happy. That elation is a balm to her soul, and she can't help but smile right along with him.

Ladybug turns to the akuma victim and holds out her hand, offering the bracelet back to her. "I really like that inscription" she says, pointing at the now-silver bracelet as the girl fixes it back on her wrist.

She smiles shyly at the two heroes. "I wish I had the courage to do more. I wish I was brave like you."

"We get scared sometimes, too. Everyone does," Ladybug starts, before her partner nudges her shoulder with his elbow.

"Speak for yourself, Bugaboo. This cat has no fear." Chat Noir throws her an exaggerated wink, and the girl laughs. "But real talk, anyone can be a hero in their own way. Little things, big stuff...you're stronger than you think, I promise. Cat's honor."

She nods. "Thank you for, you know, saving me and everything." Glancing at the street below, she gestures toward the edge of the roof. "Would it be too much trouble to get me back down there?"

"Not at all," Ladybug replies with a smile. Calling on her own courage, she looks at her partner and takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing, she thinks. "The usual spot in five? Or less, I guess, since it...doesn't matter now," she says with a shrug that she hopes looks nonchalant.

And there's that smile that shines like the summer sun. He gives her a jaunty salute. "I'll be there with bells on," he says, tapping the bell at his throat and making it jingle.

Ladybug just shakes her head and giggles.

A few minutes later, when she lands beside Chat Noir on their familiar rooftop, her earrings are beeping a frantic rhythm, signaling mere seconds before she detransforms. Instinct has her looking around the roof, ready to dart behind anything she can use to hide.

Before she can move, Chat steps toward her and quietly asks, "Marinette?"

Her transformation dissolves in a wave of pink light, and she hears him gasp as she catches Tikki gently in her palms. Marinette takes her time retrieving a macaron from her purse to feed her kwami, deliberately moving slowly in an attempt to get herself under control before she looks up at her partner. He knows, and he's thrilled, and that's amazing, but it feels like the entire world will change when their gazes finally meet, and she's just not ready yet.

"I, um...I didn't use my cataclysm, so I can stay transformed if you'd prefer, but..." he trails off.

There's something in his voice that finally makes her look at him. Just like when he talked to his father under the akuma's control, his head is bowed slightly, but instead of confidence, this time his eyes are bright with nervous hope.

Marinette understands both the nerves and the hope, and she'll joke with her partner until the end of time about who's in charge, but it feels wrong for either Chat or Adrien to look at her with uneasy deference.

And that's what she thinks of as courage wells in her chest. Her brave, steadfast partner, the other half of their unstoppable team, the boy with terrible timing who can still make her laugh, her best friend whom she loves so fiercely, should never feel he has to approach her in fear.

"Oh, Minou," she breathes. "Of course, go ahead. I...I already know."

He nods and stands a little straighter, and with a whisper and a flash of green, Chat's magical leather is replaced with denim and cotton poplin.

Predictably, her brain is short-circuiting, hollering in panic and terror, but even as her heart pounds wildly in her chest, it whispers quietly, gently, that this is her partner. Her silly kitty. Her dearest friend. He just happens to look like Adrien Agreste at the moment.

(Okay, this is going to take some getting used to.)

Tikki flies off to join Plagg nearby, while Marinette sits down on the roof with her knees pulled to her chest. She pats the space to her right and Adrien settles in cross-legged next to her.

He's the first to break the silence. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I shouldn't have gotten hit. I shouldn't have let you get hit. I know this wasn't what you wanted, and-"

"No, no, don't apologize," she interrupts, shaking her head. "It happens. It's...not the first time." Marinette sighs and closes her eyes, suddenly feeling a lot less courageous in the face of this world-bending change now that they're in their civilian clothes and it's Adrien apologizing to her. She presses her forehead to her knees and tries to imagine the boy beside her in magical leather and cat ears. It only helps a little, but it's enough. "We, um-" she pauses, licks her lips. "We have a lot to talk about. I just don't know if I'm ready for...all of it."

Adrien is silent for an uncomfortably long moment. "Yeah. We do." She hears him take a deep breath that shakes a bit on the exhale and turns her head a fraction to peek at him. His eyes are on the distant horizon. "I...think I understand some things now."

Abruptly, he turns toward her, a little smile tilting the corners of his mouth when he his eyes meet hers. Fear tells her to look away, but she tamps it down and holds his gaze. His smile widens.

"May I ask you something, Marinette?"

She nods.

"When you came up to me at lunch today, were you...planning to ask me on a date?"

Her pulse pounds in her ears. She could give in to fear, say no and brush it off like Chat had misheard her when she was under the akuma's spell. But suddenly her heartbeat seems to drum, "be bold, be kind, be brave," over and over again, and just as the smile begins to slip from his face, she finds the nerve to nod again.

Just like on the other rooftop a few minutes ago, his face lights up like the first rays of sun after a week of rain, shining splendid even in the early afternoon light.

"Am I--" he whispers, his breath hitching though his joy never dims, "Am I the boy?"

Be bold, be kind, be brave.

She calls on her Ladybug courage and nods once more.

His breath catches again and his eyes fill with tears that he brushes away quickly.

Clarity dawns all of a sudden, sweeping her fears to the corners of her mind to be dealt with later. She understood Chat Noir being happy to know his partner's identity, his excitement in finding out his Lady was his friend, too. But this is so much more. Beside her sits Adrien, wiping tears of joy from his eyes at the knowledge that Marinette is in love with him. This might just be a dream coming true on a random rooftop on a random Thursday afternoon.

"Chaton," she breathes, stretching her legs in front of her and placing a hand on his knee.

His hand covers hers, and she meets his gaze, words caught in her throat at the intensity in his eyes.

"I have a confession to make." He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand and takes a deep breath. "I think everyone in Paris knows that Chat Noir is in love with Ladybug. I...know you know." He shrugs as his smile turns a little helpless. "But no one knows that I might have a little tiny bit of a huge crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, too."

"Kid, don't lie to your girlfriend. You know very well that I knew, because I've been telling you forever!" Plagg calls from somewhere behind them. Tikki hushes him loudly.

"Okay, he's not wrong," Adrien says, huffing out a combination of a laugh and a sigh. I'm just very stupid, apparently."

"Hey, don't talk that way about my partner." Marinette bumps his shoulder with hers. "I have a teeny, tiny, huge crush on him, too, you know, and I don't appreciate your tone."

Adrien's surprised laugh rings out across the rooftop, filling her heart with so much love she can barely breathe with the force of it. She could listen to that laugh for the rest of her life. She hopes she'll have that chance.

He brushes tears from his eyes again as his laughter subsides, his grin still shining bright. "I'm so happy it's you, Marinette. Beyond happy." He turns her hand beneath his and threads his fingers through hers. "Honestly, there's no one else I would rather have as my partner."

"Me too, Minou," she murmurs, squeezing his hand lightly as incredulous joy sings through her veins.

Tikki's little voice pipes up nearby. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's almost time to go back to class."

Adrien lets go of her hand to fish for his phone and curses under his breath when he sees the time. "She's right, My Lady. Could we meet up this evening? I know we have, um...a lot of things to talk about."

Marinette nods. It feels like she's done a lot of that in the last few minutes.

When Adrien stands, he offers his hand to help her up. Just like in the courtyard at lunch, his eyes are patient and kind, but now they shine with something more. She lets him pull her to her feet, then wraps her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

His soft exhale at her ear as he melts against her makes her smile, scrunching up his white overshirt under her cheek. Her senses are filled with him, and she's surprised to realize that it's a feeling of comfort and safety instead of the usual panic.

Maybe loving Adrien and being loved in return will be easier than it seemed all this time. Her fears seem so silly when his arms are wrapped around her shoulders and his head rests on top of hers - a perfect fit.

Even the nightmarish terror of Chat Blanc is diminished. Adrien never told anyone her identity; he knew because he himself was Chat Noir, and there's no way in the world that Chat would hurt his Lady, nor would Adrien ever harm Marinette on purpose. She must have misunderstood. He must have misunderstood. He was an akuma, after all. She sighs into Adrien's shirt. She can never allow that terrible timeline to occur, but whatever happens after this, they'll face it together. Stronger. She'll make sure of it.

"Do you think my father will let me go to Nino's gig in real life?" he asks quietly.

The sad note in his voice breaks her heart. She squeezes him tighter.

"I don't know, Kitty. Do you think we'll be having a movie date on Saturday?"

He leans back abruptly, though his hands still grip her shoulders. "Of course! I'll be there if I have to sneak out!"

Marinette boops his nose, laughing when his eyes cross. "I think that's your answer for Friday night, too."

Suddenly she's in his arms again, this time lifted off the ground and spinning. She can't help but giggle.

"I knew I was in love with a genius!" he cries, jubilant. He sets her down and plants a kiss in the middle of her forehead before calling for Plagg to transform him.

When he turns his masked face back to her, it's like the world is different. She can easily see the brilliant green of Adrien's eyes in Chat's glowing sclerae. The blending of two of her favorite people into one extraordinary boy who - oh my goodness - just said he loves her gives her a shot of courage even before she suits up again.

"You missed, beau gosse."

His eyes widen comically. "I....what?"

Marinette smiles and calls for her transformation, then taps her lips with her gloved fingers. "You kissed me, but you missed."

The sly gleam in his eyes makes her breathing speed up.

"First of all, I would ask before I did that," Chat says, sticking out his thumb before raising his clawed index finger. "Second, I thought I'd save our first kiss for Saturday. Seems like a great way to end our first date, doesn't it?"

Our first date. A tingle runs down her spine. She likes the sound of that.

"I guess I can wait." Her smile turns cheeky. "But it'll be our third--"

"Ah, ah, ah," Chat cuts her off with a grin. He extends his thumb again. "First of all, I don't remember either of those."

Ladybug rolls her eyes, still smiling.

"And second," he says, his voice pitching lower and making her heart skip a beat, "it will be Marinette and Adrien's first kiss."

Oh, this boy, she thinks as her heart soars.

She bites her lip to keep from giggling. "I suppose you're right, even though we both know we're the same people."

Chat gives her a deadpan look. "Just let me have this, Bug."

She bursts into laughter and reaches for her yo-yo, delighting in watching a grin light her partner's face.

"I really am looking forward to Saturday," he says, unhooking his baton from his back. He reaches for her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "We'll talk about it later today, okay?"

She nods and watches him vault off toward home.

The wind against her face is exhilarating as she swings back to the bakery. It's amazing how one revelation seems to have changed everything. Even the zip of her yo-yo through the air sounds different to her ears now that she knows, now that he knows.

Marinette detransforms as she touches down on the terrace and sinks into her pink-striped chair while Tikki phases through the hatch into her room in search of food. A quick check of her phone tells her that she has ten minutes before she has to go back to school.

School. One more thing that's going to be different.

Before nerves can creep in, she thinks of Chat Noir and his beaming joy at learning the identity of his beloved partner. That was Adrien. She thinks of the comfort of being wrapped in Adrien's arms, his scent, his warmth. That was Chat Noir.

And when she sits down in class behind him in a few short minutes, that boy with the soft smile and shining eyes will look like Adrien, but now he's so much more.

Marinette stands up from her chair with a lighter heart than she can remember having in a long, long time. She's suddenly looking forward to the second half of the day, even more excited for Nino's event tomorrow night, and positively thrilled that she has a date with Adrien - who is Chat Noir! - on Saturday.

There's so much to experience, so many memories to be made. It feels a bit like a dream. It feels more than a bit scary. But it's going to be great.

It's just going to take a little courage.

She's got this.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Dear wendy, im sorry for being a whore but 👁👄👁 … I kinda want a smut where reader is a milf a mom of geto’s friend… a lot sexual tension would be great 😳

YES AND — my mind instantly said “hey this is how that will play out” and LOW KEY I’ve been waiting for this moment because I, too, am I whore.

Milk and Cookies: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

WC: 1.9k

Tw: NSFW (Lactation kink, unprotected sex)

The chimes and tinkles of the doorbell make you look up from the dirty dishes in the sink, and you pad over to the wooden door, peeking through the peephole.

Your son's friend, Geto Suguru, stands in the entryway, holding a bag as he pushes his hair back over his shoulder, and you instantly open the door for him. God, if he was as old as you, you'd have him snatched up and pinned to a bed. "Hello, Suguru! Just so you know, Kai won't be back for another hour or so. He and his grandfather were caught in traffic on the way back from fishing," you tell the man, and he smiles at you brightly. Your legs want to go weak, but you keep your composure and smile back at the twenty-two-year-old.

"No worries, Mrs. L/n. I'll just wait here until they get back. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," you reassure him and walk past the door to let him in. "The baby is with his grandma, so make yourself comfortable in the living room. Let me know if you want anything to eat." Geto nods at you, then opens the bag he brought.

"I brought some cookies that my mother made for you. She said after having a baby, these really help with your... uh... hormones, I think." You examine the offering when he passes it to you, and take one out of the little box. The oats and dark chocolate pieces melt in your mouth, and you hum in delight.

"These are delicious, Suguru. Tell your mother I said thank you. Did you help her make these?" The grown man shuffles about for a second, then admits his involvement. "You're incredibly sweet," you mention, and a blush creeps up his neck. "You both did a very good job." He looks up at you, dumbfounded, then smirks.

"Wasn't too hard to follow directions. Plus, I love baking. Would love to help you bake sometimes if you'll let me."

"Just let me know when and what you want to bake," you reassure him and he nods, taking a seat on the couch.

When you finish the cookie, you turn back to the dishes and begin to wash them as the TV flicks on in the living room. You're lost in thought about the kindness of Suguru and his mother when you feel the sharp stabbing sensation of a knife poke you in your hand.

"Ah!" When you bring your hand out of the water, you see that the knife sliced the palm of your hand a little, red blood forming along the cut.

"Mrs. L/n, I'll help." Suguru appears out of nowhere and reaches above the microwave to grab the first aid kit from a cabinet. While he does that, you run the palm under water, hissing as it stings but then drying it on a paper towel. Suguru takes a bandaid and places it over your cut hand, then wraps gauze over it. "You should be more careful," he chastises, and you hum in response. "Would hate to see a pretty hand like yours get infected. I'll finish the dishes for you; just sit on the couch and relax." You begin to protest, but Suguru silences you with a five to your lips, pulls you toward the living room, and sits you on a recliner before he leaves to go finish the dishes.

The TV is tuned to HGTV, and you watch Chip and Joanna renovate homes while the man finishes, glancing over at him every so often to see if he's having any trouble. But he looks as studious as ever, hair dangling over his shoulder as he finishes his task. Well, your task, actually.

When Suguru's done, he joins you in the living room, sitting in the closest seat to your recliner. "Tell me about your weekend," he begins, his black eyes staring at your face. You eye your velour tracksuit with disdain, noting that you hadn't even had a chance to get out since the baby was born a month ago and the father had been absent for much longer than that.

"Oh, just cleaning and making the house neat. You?"

"That's all you've done? What about getting a babysitter to watch Kaneda while you go out and have some fun?"

"Um..." How could you explain to the man that you don't have any friends to go out with? "Well, that would be nice."

"I'll ask my friend Shoko if she'll come by. She loves kids." He pulls out his phone and begins to type out a message, then focuses back on you when he's done. "Any news from Mr. L/n?"

"No," you answer quickly. "He's sent his monthly allowance for me and Kai, but that's it."

"Has he seen Kaneda at all?"

"No." Geto lapses into silence, eyes looking down at the carpet.

"I normally don't speak on matters that don't concern me, but fuck him," he mutters, and you look up in shock. "If I had a wife like you, I'd take you out, show you off, make you happy, and keep you satisfied. I'd never--" Suguru clenches his jaw when you touch his hand, a small smile on your face.

"You're too kind. Things between Mr. L/n and I have been rough, but I'm sure he'll come around soon."

Suguru shakes his head, then shifts out of your grip. "I would treat you better," he murmurs, then looks over at you. You swear the flutter in your chest isn't from any feelings and just because of his pity. But when he gets up and cradles your face like a lover would, you break. Tears fall from your eyes rapidly, and he brushes them away with the pads of his thumbs, cooing at you like you're a child.

"You deserve better. Say it."

"I..." But do you? You heard rumors about Kai's mom and how she was abandoned in the same way. Was this your fate, too?

"Say it. Maybe then you'll believe it."

"I deserve... better."

"Good girl." The fluttering feeling returns and your lips part as you inhale sharply. "Now, will you let me give you something better?" You nod immediately, feeling something pool between your legs. When you realize it's heat, you're shocked, but Suguru leans in to kiss you, smoothing the shock away.

"Suguru," you murmur. "We shouldn't--"

"How long has it been since your husband touched you?" You fumble for the time, knowing it hadn't been for over eight months.

"Um... that's--"

"A long time, hmm?" Suguru's eyes roam over your figure. "Then let me satisfy you, just once. If you don't like it, we can stop and I'll never touch you again, I promise."

"Suguru, I--"

"What harm will it do? If you like it, I'll make sure I come by often enough to have you seeing stars once a week. We'll never speak of it again if you don't want to do it anymore."

The deal is a good one, you think. "Well, maybe just this once."

"That's all I need." He unzips your jacket and frees your swollen breasts, rubbing them tenderly and kissing each one with a peck. "First things first, you need some relief from all of this build-up." When he latches his mouth onto your right nipple, you moan loud enough to overshadow the sound of the TV, and you feel milk flowing from your breasts rapidly. Suguru hums, drinking from you greedily, a small river of milk flowing from the corner of his mouth. You feel a tingling sensation, then exhale deeply, closing your eyes as he massages the other breast slowly.

"Oh, that feels good," you whisper and he unlatches from your right breast to your left one, fitting himself onto the nipple perfectly. You hiss in pain for a few seconds until his tongue swirls over the nipple easily. A sudden realization that this is wrong washes over you, but Suguru is tightly latched onto the bud, suckling eagerly. "Suguru..." you whisper, and he opens his eyes, but doesn't stop. "Suguru, this is wrong. You're my stepson's best friend and I--"

"This isn't about him. This is about you," he mutters, swallowing the last bit of milk before he removes his shirt. "Besides, you taste so delicious. I'm sure the rest of you tastes even better." As he removes your track pants, you bite your lip, wanting this so desperately. He spreads your legs and dips a finger into you, stroking your insides gently. "Oh, you're ready."

"Please fuck me," you whisper. "Just do it." Suguru removes his pants and palms himself, his cock rock-hard and standing at attention. The red tip is already dripping with pre-cum, ready for you to take in. He pants a little, lifting you off the recliner and moving you to the couch, where he lays you on the comfortable fabric before parting your legs again.

He runs the tip up and down your slit before sliding into you, his tip caressing long-neglected parts of you. "Su," you whine, and he kisses your cheek.

"Tell me if it hurts, baby." You clutch onto him as he pushes into you again, digging your nails into his back and moaning. "You're so damn tight."

"Feels so good..." You feel the sensation of being stretched to the brim, and wonder where in the hell Sugurus been all of your life. When he picks up his speed, he clutches onto your asscheeks and shifts you up so your knees are touching your chest. As he holds them against your breasts, they begin to leak and stain the fabric beneath them. You gasp and pant wantonly, hoping the sounds out spur him to go faster, go deeper; maybe if you allowed him to--

"Turn over for me." You obey, and he slides two fingers between your pussy lips, bending down to whisper in your ear. "Gonna make you cum in a minute. God, I've waited for this pussy for so long," he moans. "Such a good girl; waiting for months to get fucked. So patient." You whimper, and he removed his fingers, replacing them with his cock head. He slides into you again, and you exclaim, bucking your hips up to meet his. "Such a beautiful pussy, too," he grunts, smacking your ass with a heavy hand.

Then Suguru begins pounding into you wildly, rocking you back and forth on the couch without restraint. You hiss before you feel the familiar build-up of an orgasm, and call Geto's name out before you begin to shake, losing all sense of time and place.

"That's it, baby. Cum for me," Suguru breathes. "You're doing amazing."

"Oh my god," you gasp, cunt clenching around his dick. "I can't--" Another orgasm builds on top of the one you already experienced, and you grip onto the fabric tightly, shaking as you cum again. "S-Suguru, I--"

"Fuck," he whispers in your ear. "Gonna cum too. Where do you want it?"

"Wherever," you pant, and he instantly lets himself go inside of you, groaning loudly.

"God, Mrs. L/n, that was amazing," he whispers, chest heaving up and down. "What'd you think?" When he realizes that he has to remove your hands from the fabric, he chuckles. "You liked it." You nod, feeling his cum leaking out of you. "Let me clean you up, sweetheart." You expect him to go to the bathroom and search for a washcloth, but he pulls your hips up and back, so your knees are on the carpet.

It's only then that he begins to lick you clean, slurping up his cum and your juices. When he's done licking you clean, he pats your ass and you turn over, eyeing the man cautiously.

"I'll come over next week if you want me to. I'll make sure you're satisfied for the rest of your life."

[slasher-lovers-blog]

So this is kinda a personal one but, I was wondering if you could do like 2 different asks for the Sinclair brothers, Thomas, and Billy Lenz. I really love your work. ☺️

1.) a fem s/o who has to tell them she can’t have kids but really wants some

And 2.) Fem s/o who’s enlisted and is being deployed the next day (nsfw) 😏

Feel free to completely ignore these. Have a good day/night!

I'm glad you like my work! And sorry that it took long 🥺🤗 warning: NFSW

1) a fem s/o who can't have kids and tells the slashers

Lester Sinclair

Lester wants to be a father one day but don't wanna rush anything

He will ask you one day for kids but when his s/o tells him that she can't, his heart breaks..

Don't worry though, he will love you still and maybe one day you guys can adopt a kid, if you two want

If you adopt a kid, he will love them like it's his own, being a happy family

Bo sinclair

When you tell him the news, he's suprised and will think about it

Bo will remember it but won't love you less because of it

He isn't the type to be a father, because of his past and all, he kinda is happy that he can't have kids

But if you ask him to adopt a kid, he will accept as long as you teach him how to be a father

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent would be working on another wax figure, when you tell him

When you tell him that you can't have kids, he freezes and stops working

He turned to you and tilted his head, confused

When you explain it to him, he wil respect it and accept it, still loving you

If adoption is a choice, he will do it for you

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas dreams of having kids with his s/o, it's sure that he has a breeding kink

But one day, after you return from the doctor with the results

Thomas had tried multiple times to get her pregnant but with no result

When you finally tell him the results, that you can't have kids

His dream shatters into pieces but you tell him that you still want kids

So adoption it is, and it will happen one day...

Billy Lenz

Okay, he is not the type to think about having kids but he has a breeding kink, just to dominate you

If you tell him you can't, he is reliefed but if his s/o starts to tear up and tells him she really wanted kids then he might think for a solution

And adoption is the first choice you both make

_____________________________________

2) fem s/o who is enlisted and is being deployed the next day

Warning: nfsw

Bo Sinclair

You finally got the job, working as a assisten with a mechanic, it wasn't gonna be easy you know that

You headed to town and saw the man with who you gonna work with, he looked handsome and had a sweet smile

He greeted you and explained what you have to do

You quickly knew what to do and did as you were told

Months passed and Bo started to act kind towards you, more soft at times

You were working one day as you felt his hands grab your waist

"Baby girl, you obey really good," he purred into your ear as he leaned closer. "Maybe you deserve a reward".

You whimpered under his touch, being needy for him

It doesn't take long before you sucking him off, tears in your eyes as he pumps himself inside your mouth.

Lester Sinclair

Lester teached you how to pull heavy dead bodies of animals to the pit, out of the truck

It wasn't a easy task but you did it anyway

After months of working together, you slowly got feelings for Lester, sometimes dirty thoughts slipped into your mind while watching him work

It wasn't easy and you couldn't take it, you asked him out and after dating for awhile, things got heated soon

Lester was new to it all but you leaded him, sliding himself in you. With a moan you adjusted to his size and he continued ...

You both were exhausted after you finished, hoping you remember to take the pill afterwards

Vincent Sinclair

You were a artist just like Vincent, and that was a good thing if you two work together

You checked every day if any wax figure need fixing, and always returned to Vincent.

As months passed, you noticed how Vincent acted odd around you, more nervously and shy then before

Vincent was nervous because he liked her, but scared to be rejected and to shy to ask

One day he finds his courage and went to you, telling you the truth in sign language

That's were it went pretty fast, before you realized months had passed, dating Vincent and soon you found yourself in his bed with him

He roamed his hands over your body, stroking his fingers on your nipples as he listened how you moaned softly

Vincent was gently with you the whole time, giving you kisses on your shoulders and neck, even between your breasts

Thomas Hewitt

Okay, you were a victim at first but when Thomas sees you defending yourself against Hoyt, he liked you

He asked his family to keep you, saying that she is usefull and will help around, Luda agreed and accepted it with some concern still, Hoyt was harder to convince but it worked atleast

You helped Luda around with doing the laundry, cleaning the house and sometimes helped tying up the victims

Thomas didn't allow you into his basement, protecting you against what was downstairs

One day you couldn't handle it and confessed to him your feelings, he turned red and blushed

Two years passed and both were ready to be sexual interactive with each other

You sneaked into his room and smiled as he was in his underwear only, mask still on

He blushed as he noticed you staring and slowly you started to make out with him

After a few minutes he was eating you out, rubbing your breast and waist.

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

Hey! I hope you love this! Ik that it really ain't that good, but hey we got em slasher boys 😏 i didn't do billy lenz in the last because i didn't know how that would work, sorry!

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mind the Gap: Two

Shang- Chi woke up alone in your narrow bed and lay there for a long moment looking at the ceiling. There are plastic stars and dozens upon dozens painstakingly handwritten lines of poetry and little quotes. He wondered how you’d gotten them up there. And he wondered if you kept them because they comforted you. Or inspired you.

It was… weird seeing the parts of yourself you’d tried to hide for so long. The instruments, the books, the crystals. The way the room was flooded with colored light as the sun hit the stained glass. He thoughts of your drab little apartment. The orderliness of it. How minimalist it was. This felt better. Somehow all the missing pieces that gave him any doubts at all made more sense.

He looked at the photos. Little, frozen, out of context moments. People he didn’t recognize. Until he got to the end. Kai in Uniform and holding you, smiling while your chubby dimpled hands cover your mouth. You couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6. All puppy fat and big smiles. That made him feel warm. It was nice knowing that you hadn’t just sprung up somewhere fully formed. And that Kai, for all his unbothered attitude really did love you.

Behind him, he heard footsteps and whirled around to face the door. He wasn’t sure if it was you or not. But. He didn’t want to be caught snooping. So when Katy stuck her head around the door, he exhaled slowly. “There’s breakfast downstairs,” she said quietly, “You okay?”

“Better,” he said after a long second. “I just-”

“I know,” she said. “Her Godmother said she almost died and then-”

“And then she woke up,” he finished.

“And heard someone talking in her head, which- what?”

Shang-Chi made a soft noise that even he didn’t know the meaning of. Last night, he still hadn’t pressed on you for answers. You’d been so disoriented and tired that it didn’t seem quite fair to probe something that obviously caused that much pain. Even as he held you, you’d cried in your sleep, your hands fisted around handfuls of his shirt. And now he didn’t wonder why he frequently found you either awake and working or asleep somewhere else. You talked. Alternating between defiance and begging. It hurt. It tore at him like sharp pointed teeth. It still hurt even in the bright light of day. And he wondered if you couldn’t remember or if- if the Archive wouldn’t let you remember.

“Let’s go eat,” Katy prompted, linking her arm through his. “Lea said Y/N may not be back for hours… Something about everything being a little “off” after she loses a day or two of time.”

He nodded and reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged away from the pictures. His stomach making most of the decision for him. He wasn’t sure what food was down there but it smelled amazing. And he realized that he’d not eaten anything since breakfast the previous day.

In the kitchen, he pauses for a second to take in all the details he hadn’t noticed before. Too worried about you being alone in the bedroom in the attic. Bundles of herbs are hanging to dry. Everything is copper and scrubbed oak work surfaces. The windows are open and the smells from the garden and wet earth from the rain the day before mingle pleasantly with all the pastry smells and warm coffee. It’s comfortable in a way that isn’t manufactured for the house guests. It’s a working room. One that operates the same way year round. And Shang-Chi wondered what happened to keep you away.

Even as your Godmother, Grandmother and assorted cousins quickly ply them all with breakfast and hospitality, he can’t help but feel a little… Overwhelmed. Everyone is just so friendly and warm. No one questions them. No one is apprehensive. And as the talk flies around the table, it’s quickly apparent that you come by your humor and broody tendencies honestly. Your grandmother likes to fuss and she likes guests. She especially likes having ALL of her grandkids at home which he’s given to understand is rare.

Outside there’s the sound of horses and incoherent masculine whooping sounds after a while and She smiles, “I wondered if they’d be back before lunch.”

Shang-Chi watched out the window over her shoulder and she chuckled, “I don’t know how neither of them has never broken their necks jumping that back fence… It used to take years off my life watching them do it when they were small.”

“Daredevils, huh?”

She half shrugged, “It was almost impossible to keep either of them in the house… Wild things.” But there was more fondness than heat in her voice even as she shook her head. “Though their father being what he is, it’s no small wonder.”

He’s only half listening now as he watched you dismount from the horse you’d been riding. Your hair is messy and windblown and there’s color in your face and the careless half smile. There’s a warmth that spreads through his chest, even as his heart skips a beat.

You pause in the kitchen, looking surprised to find people there and glance at the clock frowning before checking your watch. Almost like you aren’t sure which one to believe. “Sit, Eat,” Lea scolds, pressing a mug into your hands and gesturing at an empty chair.

“I don’t think I can,” you say hesitantly.

The taller woman cradles your face in her hands for a second and turns your head to the side to inspect the still fading bruises, “Is it better or worse than it was?”

“It depends on how long I’m out for,” you say after a moment. “It still takes at least a day. But sometimes a week or more.”

“And everything else?”

“The only thing that feels right is being outside.”

Shang-Chi watches Lea and Kai trade worried looks while you studiously look at the mug in your hands after Lea lets you go and deposits you in a chair. “Try any way,” she said softly, setting a plate down in front of you gently. There’s not much on it. A little fruit, some fresh bread and some ham. But even from where he’s standing Shang-Chi can see some of the color leave your face.

“I should call the Aunts and tell them we’re going to cancel the party…” your grandmother said after watching you try to pick at the fruit before giving up and trying a bit of bread.

“I’ll be fine,” you sigh, “It’s just some nausea from getting smacked in the head hell knows how many times and the usual disorientation from not being in the same timezone as everyone else.”

“Smacked in the head?” Katy asked over her mug.

“I made my phone call. The last thing I remember is getting pistol whipped before I was yanked out of the driver’s seat… You would think, given that the Archive lives in my head it would do more to prevent head trauma but… Nah. Who needs grey matter?”

“Driver’s seat?” she asked, wincing.

“It the easiest way I’ve ever found to explain it. This is a meat mech and I don’t always get to drive… The Archive has two main objectives. Protecting the vessel that houses it AND protecting the balance of the universe by preserving knowledge… Anything that interferes with those goals is typically dealt with with extreme prejudice.”

“Typically?” This time it was Wenwu who asked and you half turn that direction and shrug, honestly grateful to not have to pretend to eat.

“Archives have never had their own physical body. By their own account and every corroborating account I’ve ever found they’re… spirits for lack of a better word. A manifestation of desperation. Probably resulting from things like the destruction of the Library of Alexandria and so forth… So they don’t really have any moral quandaries. Not the way a physical entity might.” You sigh and tilt your head, popping your neck to try and relieve some of the discomfort.

“So how-”

“I was the most powerful person in the room when a previous vessel died,” you say exhaling slowly.

“You were a kid,” Shang-Chi said taking the vacant seat on your right.

“It’s- Atypical- according to the Archive for them to inhabit children… Their ability to complete their task can be hindered somewhat by the physical ability of a vessel. But. I had the potential, I guess. So here we are.”

“That was a very coherent explanation,” Kai said mildly.

“Getting out for a while helped make some space to think,” you say shrugging again, “And i did promise an explanation.”

“Space?” Katy asked, frowning.

“Imagine putting all my books into Shang-Chi’s apartment then trying to find something,” you snort. “It takes effort. And a little time. And some shuffling around.”

“Hey!” he protested, throwing one arm over the back of your chair to tug you closer.

“It’s not my fault you live in a literal shoebox.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a nerd,” he chuckles, kissing the side of your head gently.

_________________

You stand on the dock watching the sunlight on the water and sink gratefully onto the warm wood. For a person as introverted as you are, being bombarded on all sides all the time is… Overwhelming. You can hear the people in the distance. The talking and laughing and general ruckus. It’s familiar. But right now you’d kill for silence.

And you aren’t sure but, you think that the Archive might have similar feelings. That in itself is a blessing. You’re tired. Your body is sore. And all you want is to crawl back into your bed.

“You okay?”

You half turn to look up at Shang- Chi and smile a little. “Just tired,” you assure him.

“Are you always… this way?” He doesn’t really know how to put it. Or if you really want company. But, he settles behind you and pulls you against his chest.

“Tired? Yeah. The Archive doesn’t sleep. It interferes with the mission. Which means I’m more often than not awake the entire time… Unless it affects the performance of the vessel. Then I can sleep.”

He doesn’t really know what to say to that. So he doesn’t say anything. Gratified when you don’t pull away he pulls you a little closer and kisses the side of your head.

And not for the first time, you thank whatever gods might be listening for people who understand silence.

Shang-chi isn’t sure when you fall asleep. But when he hears the quiet little snores from your head being in a slightly weird angle, he smiles a little and adjusts you carefully to be laying more securely against his chest. It gives him some time to think.

For the years that he spent dancing around you as you started as a friend of Katy’s, he’d felt a pain. A sense that something was too raw to touch. It had made you feel familiar. It made you feel like a kindred spirit. A twin flame. Even as you both tried to hold back, to love people without letting them see the ugly things you kept hidden. Even as you’d tried to build a relationship on secrets. But now? This moment sitting in the sunshine on the dock with you snoring on his shoulder, it feels more intimate than any time he’d ever managed to get you naked. For you to be this comfortable with him… Not to belittle the sanctity of a drunk make out after a duet at karaoke but… It felt like progress. Real progress. He could see the person you were under all the secrets and little white lies. And somehow, it wasn’t very far from what he already knew.

Footsteps on the dock behind him make him half turn, careful not to jostle you awake. He’s not surprised to see Kai standing there. “Is she asleep?”

He nodded, reluctant to talk in case you weren’t as deeply asleep as you seemed.

“Good,” Kai said relaxing a little. “Listen, Grandma is going to turn this into a party… It’s Charity season and Y/N hasn’t been home for anything in… a while. So the aunts and subsequently all the kids are on their way. If you can I’d carry her into the house and put her back to bed. Once the kids learn she’s here there’s not going to be any more sleeping.”

When Kai noticed him frowning the other man smiled a little. “She means well. After… Everything happened Grandma just didn’t want her to be treated like a leper.” You stir sleepily and both men wince reflexively, “Can you-”

“I got her,” Shang-Chi answered, reluctant to let you go. Not even to Kai.

And to his credit, Shang-Chi thought, Kai let him go past without much more than a nod.

[liquid-luck-00]

Siblings

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 3: Siblings

@biodad-bruce-month

First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Mari had agreed to go to Gotham after Gina, Tom, and Sabine's funeral. And now I am sweating bullets, not for how she will react, oh no I am far more worried about how the boys will. Maybe having a civilian in the manor will curb some of their unsavory habits.

When I asked Mari and she agreed I could tell this was going to be eventful. She asked if she had any siblings.

"Biologically, legally, or emotionally?" I responded completely serious, "There is a difference."

She thought for a moment before saying "Legally because I already know I have a biological brother" she stated with a smile.

"How did you know that?" he asked her.

"DNA testing project for an ethnicity and ancestor report." Marinette said casually, "So how many siblings legally?" she pushed.

He sighed "Seven but it might as well be eleven with how often Barbara, Stephanie, Jon, and Roy are at the mansion."

"Can you tell me a bit about them. Maybe even the measurements!"

After he had given enough information to spur her creativity, Mari could only be described as a tempest of creative energy.

By the time we were to board the jet to Gotham there was a suitcase filled with only gifts, he had lost count after the sixth gift, but she still added some more. By the time they landed she had a rough idea of what she was getting herself into.

To his shock the boys hadn't tried to figure out where he was and that in itself was a blessing. The boys knew that she existed but were never interested in finding her and to quote Jason 'Save her from the insanity that surrounds this family.' Yet he was about to change that.

He had told Alfred that someone would be staying in the manor but to only leave a car at the airport and he would drive them in. Thank god at least one person listens to him.

The ride to the manor was silent conversation wise. But the constant scratching of a pencil as Mari designed inspired by Gotham's architecture filled the quiet.

---

Before leaving Paris, Mari found out she has seven siblings, 1 biological and 6 adoptive and 4 practically siblings, she will have to figure that part out. Bruce told her all about them and got her their measurements and that includes the one of Bruce's butler/father figure and his fiancée Selina. So in one suitcase there were 13 individually wrapped gifts that even Bruce didn't know what they were. The Miracle box, disguised as a sewing caddy, was among her things, but the horse miraculous and Kaalki were in her purse along with Tikki.

Oh kwamii how am I going to keep this secret if I’m going to be in another country along with being in a house with more than a dozen other people.

Once touching down in Gotham she began sketching, one because she was nervous and two Gotham's architecture was gorgeous. She didn't even realize that they had arrived at the manor until the engine cut.

"Let's introduce you to everyone" Bruce stated with a sigh and a small smile. They left the bags in the car and walked up the steps. As they neared the door they heard it.

"Get back here Todd" one extremely angry voice sounded.

"Dick HELP ME" another voice yelled.

They opened the door and there was quite the scene. Who she believes is Damian is chasing, who she is mostly sure is Jason, with a... is that a katana? And who she is certain must be Dick is trying and failing to stop Damian. In fact he is now also being chased. She looks over and Bruce is sighing looking completely done and with someone next to him.

"Hello and welcome to Wayne Manor." the man states, Alfred if she had to guess.

"Hello Alfred I presume” Mari greets him.

“That would be correct Miss…” Alfred responds.

“Marinette. Um this normal?" Mari asks.

"Unfortunately” Bruce states in a resigned tone.

"Huh" is all she says as she formulates a plan. The boys haven't noticed them yet so that is a plus, but what to do. Then she got an idea so she sprang into action. She watched for any pattern in the chase and when she found one she hid. She was next to the stairs in the perfect position to pounce. By this time Bruce and Alfred were watching her curious to what she was planning. She never left her hiding spot, but when Damian paused to look for Dick and Jason near her she moved. She took the katana and replaced it with a bouquet of flowers and went back to standing between Bruce and Alfred still holding the blade.

"How did you?" Bruce questioned her but she just gave him a smirk and spoke loud enough to get not only Damian’s attention but Dick and Jason’s who were hiding behind the couch.

"I thought you didn't tell them I was coming and here is Damian with flowers. Or wait who is the lucky person?" This got everyone's attention in the manor, if it wasn’t already.

“What the?" Damian stared at the flowers in his hand, while Dick and Jason came out of hiding.

The three boys were looking between her, holding the katana Damian was previously chasing them with, and the flowers in Damians hand. Then they began to stare between her and Bruce before finally someone spoke, "Seriously Bruce another one" Jason, yup definitely Jason, was the first to respond.

"Nice to meet you too" Mari replied. When she looked at Bruce he was still in shock but was now sporting a smirk. "Jason right"

She was holding the katana in her left hand while pointing at Jason with her right hand, he was tall and his build was most like Bruce he had blue eyes and black hair but had a white streak in the front, he nodded acknowledging she was right.

She then continued "I'm going with Dick, right?" she moved on and the oldest, who again only nodded his head, he looked the most like Bruce with his black hair and blue eyes but he was leaner.

"And your Damian" she finished with those in the room, he had tanned skin and green eyes that were complemented by his black hair.

"Is that my katana?" Damian asked, his voice seemed to be a mixture of disbelief, anger, and dare she even say awe, and all eyes seemed to focus on the blade in her hand.

"Yes" She responds with a smile.

"Honestly Mari how did you do that?" Bruce asked her once again.

"You learn to take objects off of an Akuma if you get caught up in too many attacks." she shrugged. She moved towards Damian and handed back his sword. "I'm Marinette by the way."

"Seriously B your missing for two weeks with no notice and come back with your Daughter. Who I might add was able to take Demon spawns sword without him noticing. Why wouldn't you warn us you were coming back with her! Or I don’t know going to find her at all!” Another person walked out into the hallway. Honestly he seemed ready to fall asleep and was holding a huge cup of coffee, he then turned towards me. He also had blue eyes and black hair but it was the longest of the boys. "I'm Tim, nice to finally meet you" he stated with a smile before turning back to Bruce with a slight frown.

At Tim's appearance and statement Jason and Dick burst into confused screams and wild gestures in Dick’s case, while Damian stood there analyzing her before giving a nod of his head. Bruce looked done but it was Alfred who spoke. "Perhaps it would be best to discuss this over lunch along with everyone else?"

"That would be best. Thank you Alfred." Bruce responded. "In the meantime why don't we you get settled."

With that Bruce and her walked back to the car to get her bags. Jason and Dick followed them out, and helped to get her things. Alfred led the five to a room where she began to put things away, only Jason stayed to help her finish her task.

---

The day had started as normally as any other in Wayne Manor, but no one, and I mean no one was ready for this tiny little french teen with the biggest blue eyes to get the drop on any of them. Let alone be able to take Demon Spawns sword without him noticing.

To say Jason was intrigued was an understatement. Seriously how did she do that, because he sure as hell isn't believing that excuse, like what the hell is an akuma attack. Bruce, Dick, and I helped her bring her bags into the room Alfred prepared. He was the only one who stayed to help her. One because if she could get the drop on the Demon then he had to win her over as a pranking ally. Two she was his sister now and he isn't as bad as everyone makes him out to be.

While helping her set up her room he found it, it was a suitcase filled with wrapped boxes. Now if she is my sister then let the blackmail material begin, but not without some teasing thrown into the mix.

"What's with the presents in the case Bluebell," Jason asked, throwing in a nickname to see if Marinette would have any type of a reaction. Because who packs presents unless it was a distraction or trying to hide something.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said with a smirk and heat tilt. Well not the reaction he had hoped for.

"So what was that thing you said archery attack was it?" this got a reaction, but not one he was expecting.

"You don't know about the akuma attacks?" she was a mix of fear and surprise and he was unsure how he was supposed to react to that. Lucky for him as he was about to speak Tim and Dick came in and told them lunch was ready.

---

Jason not knowing about akuma attacks was odd and she didn't know how to react to his question. He was about to respond but Dick and Tim came in, and told them lunch was ready. They walked into the dinning room and inside were too many faces. She recognized Bruce and Damian. Tim, Dick, and Jason walked in with her.

"We're here" Dick dramatically announced, and all of a sudden all eyes were on her.

"OMG she is so cute!" a blonde yelled "Are we sure she is yours Bruce."

"Yes Stephanie. I am sure" Bruce answered almost amused. "Why don't you introduce yourself before you suffocate her."

"Ya, Ya," she waved him off "I'm Stephanie Brown" she stated as she continued to hug her.

The introductions included Stephanie, Cassandra or she said Cass, Duke, Roy, Barbara, Selina, and Jon. During lunch they asked her about herself she stayed in the realm of civilian, but Jason again brought up the akuma attacks so she explained a bit about the Paris situation and referred to them to Aurore's blog 'BugOut'.

She figured out the meaning of her practically siblings

Jon was Damian's best friend as Roy was Jason's because of this they spent large amounts of time with the family . The blonde who tackled her, Stephanie, was dating Tim and Barbara was a close family friend to everyone.

Afterwards she ended up giving everyone their gifts and Damian challenged her to a spar. The fact that no one, except Bruce having a partial reason, had any idea why she could hold her own was priceless. Seriously everyone's jaw was on the floor and Bruce looked like he was plotting something but it seemed to quickly leave his thoughts. All in all it was a good first day with her new family.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list:

@mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky

[elysianightsss]

It’s just Business - three

Werewolf Steve Rodgers x reader

Warnings for the series: fluffness, Bucky and Sam bickering like five year olds, smutty smut, bad language.

After coming back from my ruined peaceful walk, I didn’t have the motivation to do anything other than just sitting and reading. I spent most of the afternoon and evening doing that too. It kind of brought back the serene feeling from this morning but not the same. By the time dinner and then sleep rolled around I felt unproductive.

Making a mental note to talk to Bash tomorrow, I pulled back the covers ready to get into bed when I heard a howl just like the night before. The noise caused my breath to hitch in my throat, my hands to grip the sheets. Like a siren call I walked towards the glass door in a daze. Standing out on the balcony now, I heard the howl again but it was closer this time.

The noise made my chest tighten. A pricking sensation familiar to how you’d prick your finger when learning to sow. It got stronger and stronger, almost like something was getting closer and closer.

“Alex?” I jumped screaming when a hand placed itself on my back.

“Oh Bash, sorry, you scared me. I didn’t hear you come in.” I explained.

“I haven’t scared you in years. Last time I did we were little. You seemed to be the one scaring me now.” He grinned, a smile slipping onto my face too.

“Seems that way doesn’t it?” He eyed the lake and trees with a suspicious eye.

“Do you like it here?” He asked coming to stand next to me on the balcony.

“I love it. It’s so freeing.” I stared out at the view.

“I’m sorry for what Dad had done. And, well I’m sorry for leaving you in that house to begin with.” He cleared his throat, I reached out a patted his back. I knew it was hard for him to admit his wrong doings, even if technically he didn’t do anything wrong here.

“It’s not your fault. Mother and Father would have never let it happen. And besides maybe being away from them for eight months will be good for me.” I let out a dry chuckle at the thought. Eight parent free months. Sounded amazing.

“When I was your age, that would have sounded like heaven to me.” He poked my side with a laugh.

“Bash, I spent four months trying to do this task, and I’ve already failed. How did you and JJ complete it in under a month?” I asked astonished, more about JJ than Bash really.

“When Father set us the task, I thought it was easy. And applied to every college in the world, a lot of people wanted the ‘Mayor’s Son’ on their campus, but two sons that was like a dream to them and their scouts. So when I finally picked the college I wanted, they asked if JJ would be joining me. Which he did.” Bash shook his head remembering the trouble JJ caused that university.

“Nobody wants me for my title or my grades. They just want money. How am I supposed to do this? The task is to get into a college without financial help. So far getting a scholarship from every place in the world has failed. Because they said and I quote ‘your parents have too much money’.” I pushed and hand through my hair angrily.

“I have a friend at Hitchend Uni, I called and asked if he could do something. He said he’d see what he could do and call back soon.” Bash looked over to me seeing my sad eyes. “Little sister.”

“I just wish my life wasn’t like this. I wish it were different. That I didn’t have to worry about this stupid task or the fact that if I fail they’re going to kick me out without any financial support. They won’t even let me get a job to support myself, so what money will I have to fall back on?” I tried to relax staring out at the lake. A howl sounded over to the left of the forest.

“You know that Lara and I will take you in. We could never let you be homeless.” He placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Thankyou Sebastian.”

“Ooo using my full name. You must be serious.” He chuckled pulling me into a hug. I gladly accepted the warmth.

“Now come on time for bed.” He encouraged me inside and I listened. Slipping under the covers as he shut and locked the door.

“Goodnight little sister.”

“Goodnight big brother.” He smiled and closed the door. I rested a little easier that night, knowing that when everything goes to shit I have someone to turn to. I’m not alone.

Two more days. Today and tomorrow and then the freedom is gone. My head started to hurt more and more, the closer it got to leaving. New worries hitting me at every point throughout the day. I couldn’t stop thinking about all different kinds of problems that could happen. Soon enough, the last day rolled around.

A knock on the door had Bash’s head flicking in the noises direction. We were in the middle of breakfast, I was far too busy chowing down my Frosties to care who was at the door until I heard who Bash was talking to. He’d gone to get the door and now was conversing with whoever was there.

“Of course man, come in. We’re just having breakfast.” I went to leave, for now I was beyond pissed.

“Alex.” Lara shook her head at me, but I didn’t listen. Getting up from my seat only to run right into the person I wanted to avoid.

“Good morning Alexandra.” His voice was like honey, his sweet smile pushing me to stay. Dark blue graced his upper body again. Mustering up the best glare I could and sending it his way. I left, going back to my temporary room upstairs. Only a few seconds later he was stood in the door way.

“I want there to be no misunderstanding Alexandra. I no way want you to dislike me or be uncomfortable. However we will be spending the next eight months together and I have specific instructions from your father in terms of a schedule. It would be best if we got along don’t you agree?”

He had some fucking nerve. I grit my teeth taking a deep breath before turning to him and speaking.

“And I want there to be no misunderstanding when I say I have one more day left of freedom. And I would very much prefer to spend it without you, errand boy.” I wasn’t going to be told what to do by my father’s errand boy. Well, man.

The clench of his jaw, the raise of the eyebrow, the spark in his eyes gave me a sense of pride. I had just managed to rile up a grown man and he couldn’t do anything about it. It was in that moment I decided to spend the next eight months making his life as hellish as mine.

He left the room quickly, I couldn’t help the grin that grew with each passing second. For some reason, I didn’t know what that reason was but, I really liked getting him riled up and I couldn’t wait to see what happens when I push him too far and he snaps. I wonder what it is that he’ll do.

I felt my entire body heat up, I figured it was just the adrenaline rush that came with the situation rush. But the longer I stood and pondered, I felt like I was yearning for something? Heat shot through me again, it felt like when you get too hot and the waves of hotness just keep coming until you take off your jacket.

Shaking the feeling off, I made myself determined to go back to being normal for a day. That was ultimately the goal until Mr rugged showed up at the front door. Wonder if he’s still here? I tilted my head with the thought, trying to listen and see if I could hear any talking downstairs.

“Yeah, you idiot.” Lara laughed.

“Ah my loving wife, how ever did I deserve such a glorious mate that showers me with affection daily.” Bash’s sarcasm dripped with each word he spoke.

“Eww sloppy kisses!” Lara scream playfully.

That’s a new one. Never heard someone refer to their partner as a mate before. Strange but with my family stranger things happen every day. Not wanting to take my chances that he hadn’t left I stayed in my room for the rest of the day.

“Wish I could stay.” I huffed flopping down on my bed. Tomorrow was the day I left and I wasn’t ready.

This is it. No. It can’t be.

“Alex!”

It is. Pulling the sheet above my head, I let out a groan at the thought.

“I’m leaving today.” I said to myself, as if trying to ready myself for the journey ahead.

I got dressed and packed as slowly as possible. Didn’t have the appetite to eat anything. Felt like my stomach would lurch if I did. Couldn’t bare the thought of going away from the first place that had made me feel peaceful.

“Love you lots and lots and lots and lots and lots.” Lara repeated hugging me tightly.

“Okay Lara, let my baby sister breath.” Bash chuckled.

“Our sister.” She glared not letting go.

“Love you too” I smiled pulling away and walking to Bash. He enveloped me in a hug.

“You can do this.” He whispered, squeezing me before letting me go.

I got in the car that had pulled up twenty minutes ago. I didn’t mind making him wait. I waved goodbye to the happily married couple, mustering up the best smile I could. The gorgeous fir trees passed by not helping my solemn mood. Soon the mountains came into view, seeing a few houses dotted here and there on a few of them.

The car passed by the big village. Strings of houses here and there. There was a huge house in the middle of it. People walking about, looking my way, kids playing outside and others farming the land. We pulled up to a house that was slightly away from the village and a bit bigger than the other houses. The driver opened my door for me, smiling in thanks.

“Rustic.” I quipped looking at the house.

“Thanks.” My head snapped to Steve who had been walking my way, behind him was a trail going into the forest that I assumed led up to the mountains.

“Welcome to your new home for the next eight months.” He smiled and somehow, it seemed sincere.

Oh joy.

[breakoutime]

Rewarded

Hades x (Neutral)Reader

Warning, nsfw!

Tags: Cockwarming, size kink, exibitionism? praise kink? (ask to tag pls)

Summary: Reader has been working hard for the house of Hades, and the master of the house has noticed and wants to reward them.

Authors note: Ok, VERYFIRST TIME writing smut, hopefully its good, or at least passable, english isnt my first language soooo yeah keep that in mind... P-please gimme feedback >///<

Your job at the House of the dead was a strange one. You weren't quite sure how to name it, but for now everyone referred to you as “The assistant”, you never really stayed in the same place for long, always being the one everyone called for help when a task was too much to handle. You have been assigned to Dusa to help with the cleaning, you’ve been working hard with the other shades inside the archive, you’ve been even assigned to stand by Achilles' side when the master of the house had visitors and considered some extra security was necessary. Dusa would always tell you how happy everyone was with your presence in the house, how helpful you’ve been, and how amazingly adaptable you were, having skills that allowed you to act and serve in all these different areas. Your face was quite often on the board at the Lounge, and it was obvious Hades himself was quite pleased with your performance. It was often that you would be called into his desk, to either give a report on your current task or to be praised for your hard work, which always left you inspired and happy for your next task.

You had to admit, your hard working attitude came not only for your passion for your work, but also for the passion you felt towards your master. You couldn't be quite sure when it started, it definitely wasn't there when you first arrived at the house. Hade´s was a rough man, cold, strict, serius. You would always hear him berate the others when their performance was not enough, often punishing them if their results were lacking. It was somewhere between Orpheus' punishment for refusing to sing, and when Zagreus started to openly fight back against his father, that you were called, alone, to Hades’ desk. Of course, at that time, you were anxious, wondering if even with your efforts, the master was disappointed in you and called to have you berated and punished, just like Orpheus was not so long ago, but no. Hades had specially called you simply to praise you, to say how, when so many of his workers, when even his own son was unable to handle his duties, you alone were there to support, cover and pull the needed effort and time to have the house working properly. You weren't able to suppress the smile in your face, or the tingling in your stomach as you heard the so often strict and stern master, praise your hard work for the whole house to hear. Slowly but surely you became obsessed with it. With working hard just to hear Hades himself telling you of your good work and how pleased he was with you. Soon you realized that those words did more than just kindle the fire of your hard work, but also left you warm with another kind of fire, one that burned between your legs. Now, everytime Hades praised you, you had to- no, you needed to take a short break to indulge yourself in that heat, to touch yourself and satisfy this burning need that arouse from you each time that booming, rough voice reverberated through your being, just to tell you how good you’ve been to this house, to him.

Today, you were hoping for such a praise, since you’ve been assigned to work at the archives, getting a lot of paperwork ready for Hades’ reviewing. This was your favorite thing to do, since the Lord was always so busy with paperwork at his desk, always reading and writing and filing, he never had anybody else there to help him with that particular part of the process, sure, at the archives many shades worked to get said paperwork ready for him, but no matter how hard you worked or how many shades he had at his disposal, he was always glued to his work, concentrated and dedicated, but also tired and slightly bored of the repetitive tasks he has at hand. There wasn't much you could do other than work hard and please him with your work, which immediately sent another jolt of heat through you. Of course, your stack of documents was done, which meant you now needed to personally deliver them to his desk. Your smile was proud and your face was slightly flushed from the heat you felt, feeling a bit too eager today to hear what your master had to say. Silently you wondered if it was noticeable, if the master knew that your enthusiastic work and demeanor came from these kinds of feelings, or even if the other people in the house knew. For a moment you thought how would Zagreus react, if he knew you had the hots for his father, but you quickly had to shake that thought and compose yourself, as you passed Achilles and walked straight up to Hades’s desk. 

As always, he was seated there, in his throne, reading attentively one of the many documents he had in his desk. One small part of you felt bad, because the stack of documents was considerably going to grow with the one you were holding, but sadly that stack was going to work either way. Patiently you waited, the stack was heavy but his desk was way too tall for you, and you already knew that interrupting him was never a good idea. If only you could float like Hypnos or Thanatos, or if you were taller, but just like the prince, your stature meant that you’d need some help to get up the desk. Soon, you saw Hades pick up his plume, signing one of the documents, a sign that he was done with his current one, and immediately you made your wade to his side, ready to hand the paperwork for when he stretched his arms to receive them. With a pleased hum, he acknowledged you, taking the stack of papers and thanking you in the process.

“Quick and efficient as always. Glad that there is someone here who never disappoints me.” You had to stifle a laugh, the comment was not only a praise to you but also a small insult to Hypnos, who was floating and sleeping soundly in the hallway in front of you two. 

“Now,” he said, tidying the new stack of documents before fully turning to you. “The house has been working quite efficiently lately, so i'm afraid there are few dignified chores left for someone of your skill and dedication...” That wasn't exactly a bad thing, sometimes you were given time off to rest, but there was something different about the way he spoke, the way he was looking at you. Anxiety started to build in you, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he simply raised his hand, stopping you. “Except one thing.” He moved, lowering his hand to your level. “Come here.” You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, your knees trembling, and cold drops of sweat falling from your brow. Was he really telling you to climb his hand? Nervously, you took a seat on it, allowing your master to raise you and place you comfortably in his lap. This was new, very new and confusing, you’ve never seen anyone have the honor of sitting on Hade's lap, but there you were, comfortable laying in one of his powerful thighs, staring up at him. Your master, who everyone respected and feared, who always made your very being burn was giving you this sort of treatment, of affection? His voice is lower this time, huskier, “Today I have a different task for you… A different kind of service that I need” His hand was on your back now, rubbing it gently. “One which will be quite pleasurable for you and for me.” You had been staring at him this whole time, looking at his eyes, his expression, which was something you’ve never seen before, desire was evident in his face. Desire for you. “I have made a concoction, to allow you to handle such a task-” he continued, now his other hand lifting his robes, exposing himself for you. You could not believe it. Your master wanted this from you, just as much as you wanted it from him. His size was massive, proportional to a man of his build and stature, you couldn't help but reach out, running your hand over it, how were you supposed to  please him? Even with your both hands you wouldn't be able to stroke him firmly, much less fit him inside of you- But your thoughts were interrupted by something uncorking. He did say something about a concoction, but how-

A small vial was in his hands, the liquid of which looked like nothing you had ever seen. It shifted in color, going from red to orange to green, it must have been made from Hades’ power. “Do not fear. Spread yourself for me, and I'll take care of the rest...” You didn't have to be told twice.  Breathing heavy, you allowed your master to pour that strange liquid into your entrance, which seemed to burn you in the most pleasurable way, making you let out soft pleased sounds. “It was about time we took some sort of break, so few of us take our work seriously...” gently, he applied pressure with his finger into your entrance, which to your surprise stretched without problem to fit his finger, coating your insides with the strange liquid as it went in. “And you are one of the bests of course.” His words were like honey, fueling the need inside you. “That's why I know only you will be up to this task….” He removed his finger, having your insides well coated and warm for his member. “I want you to keep me company, to keep me warm... While im at my desk today.” Your legs were shaking, but you knew what you had to do, he really didn't have to tell you. Bracing yourself against his chest, slowly you pressed your entrance into his member, even with the concoction, it took some effort, the tip slipping a couple of times before being able to get in. The stretch should have been painful, but all you could feel was pleasure, the burn of the strange liquid must have changed you, allowing you to take such size and not feel an ounce of pain. “Hmmmmm, go on now, get comfortable- Ah~!” Your master moaned when you started moving, the tightness of your hole breaking a small part of his determination to keep this quiet. You yourself weren't being quite quiet either, whimpers, moans and whines coming out of you as you slowly adjusted your tight grip on Lord Hades’ cock as you sank down, coming to a rest against him, now his member fully sheathed inside of you. Your Lord seemed to be taking a moment to compose himself while you simply slumped against him, your thighs twitching as your insides squeezed exquisitely around your master. In the back of your mind, you wondered if this was some sort of dream, one witch you’d never want to wake up from, but as Hades moved a document from the stack to be reviewed, one of his hands went for you, lifting you barely from his cock and pushing you down again, making him growl in satisfaction and you cry out in pleasure. “Absolutely perfect. Even now your performance is impeccable.” You couldn't really answer much to that, being a bit overwhelmed by this whole situation. “I was hoping to work while you kept me pleased, but you’ve demonstrated to be far more… stimulating than I thought.” He shifted you again, making you see stars and your insides to tremble. “But It hardly matters, this just means my paper work can wait....” He looked hungry at you, even more so, now holding you with both hands with the clear intention of focusing on you. “Now I’ll have to work on giving us both a reward for working so hard.”

With that, he started really moving you, pounding at you slowly and gently at first, but quickly picking up pace and intensity. Your screams of pleasure practically echoed in the house, you were unable to repress them, far too gone in the pleasure to care. “That's it, L-let everyone know your price- your pleasure!” He boomed on top of you, now lifting you up to lay on the desk as he stood and pounded away at you. “Let this be an example for everyone- Only the best can get this from me” Hades growls and loudly proclaims on top of you now, his movements so fanatic you can't understand how you havent came ten times by now, but the ecstasy you felt right now was more than worth it. You couldn't help but look around, now laying in said desk you had vision of Hypnos, who clearly had woken up and was openly staring with both of his hands over his mouth, a deep flush evident in his face, and achilles, who clearly was looking away, red and ashamed of being in proximity of such an act, and of course, many shades where looking, some even cheering at the expectable, even with the little features they had, you could see a pang of envy on them, which only fueled your pleasure. With a mighty grunt, he slammed deep inside of you, filling your insides with his seed, which was all you needed to break and finally cum yourself, blacking out for a second, over the overwhelming wave of pleasure he had just given you, that delicious burn his liquid gave you coming back with vengeance, making you ride your orgasm with that pleasure too, leaving you utterly spent and satisfied. Maybe it was that same liquid which made your orgasm wait, so that you could reach it with master Hades. 

Now, with both of you panting, he gently pulls out of you, covering himself again and using a clan rag on one of his drawers to help you clean up. The adoration in your face must have been evident, since the look he gave you was both gentle and smug. “I’ll leave you to rest in my quarters, but once I'm finished with this paperwork, I'll join you one more there, I won't be long.” With that, he picked you up and carried you to his room, just in time for zagreus to rise from the river, shooting you a questioning look as he saw his father carry you away. You were far too tired to care, really, the only thing that mattered now was the fact that Lord Hades himself was laying you on his bed, where he would surely instruct you to pleasure him, now in private. Curling up. you knew you needed some rest if you wanted, like always, to give your very best for the task.

[mings]

Some context...

...in relation to that last post. This is a lo-o-o-o-ong read, so feel free to skip right by if catharsis bores you.

This starts way before I joined tumblr; in fact, long before tumblr was even a thing.

Twenty years ago, we lived in a huge house backing onto the English Channel. We moved there from Scotland, which turned out to be (probably) the biggest mistake of my life. 

Within nine months of buying the place, the company I’d moved to work for nearly folded. I and most of the workforce were made redundant. That set in motion an existential battle with our mortgage insurer, which refused to pay out because I “must have known” when taking out the insurance. (I didn’t, and they eventually caved in after destroying my credit record, but that’s another story.)

Work wasn’t immediately available; none that would at least cover the bills. We got inventive, wrote a business plan, obtained finance & bought a franchise. It went pretty well for the first three years, but we had to bust a gut to make the required income. It wasn’t easy. Eventually, the franchise operator messed up relations with several key players in our insurance market. Within three months, we lost 75% of our revenue. I had to close the workshop & find part time work to make ends meet. Ultimately, we decided to close the business, sell the house and downsize to something more manageable.

What’s the relevance of this? We tried hard to keep our precarious financial state form the kids. Maybe we didn’t do as well as we thought. Our son had already become withdrawn. He’d fallen in with a group of local lads about whom we had grave misgivings. Of course, there was no discussing it. We were “over-reacting” and unreasonable. It was around that time that he decided to jack in his education. I couldn’t criticise; I’d done the same. I pulled some strings and got him a job at our local Royal Mail delivery office.

We moved to our new place. It was a stressful move. Trying to fit into a house that was literally half the size was never going to be an easy task. One afternoon, our son came home from work and soon after announced he was going out. “See you later.” Only we didn’t. He didn’t come home that night. Nor did he turn up for work the next day. Nor the day after. And nor the day after that. Within a week he was written up for unauthorised absence. We had no way of contacting him. His case was heard in the following weeks. I could offer no mitigation. He was sacked for abandonment of duty. That tag that means he’ll never work for them again. 

We still had no idea where he was. We only knew he was alive because we met a couple of his friends who couldn’t believe he’d not been in touch. Still no word. My wife was in shreds; I suspect any of you who are parents can identify with that. I was alternating between trying to prop her up and stay on top of my job, all the while under a constant barrage of barracking (Oh, we don’t mean anything by it, it’s just banter....)

About three months in I’d had enough. Sleep was a scarce resource so I rose at the crack of dawn and started on a trip, rousting one after another of the friends and acquaintances that I knew, following leads until finally I tracked him down to a sordid bedsit several towns and 40 miles away. At least he answered the door and looked sheepish. He offered no explanation or apology, and has never done so to date. He refused to come back home, but promised to keep in touch. 

We know he bounced from one sofa to another in the next few months. He spent time in some of the worst areas in the county for drug abuse. He fell into a relationship with a girl that looked promising initially and subsequently fell apart. Later, he surfaced in another town with another girl whom he subsequently married. She often spoke of his irascible temperament and moods. Ultimately the marriage was doomed; she was younger than him, found a new interest and moved out. One wonders now how much of that was her and how much she’d put up with before voting with her feet.

He’s stumbled from one financial crisis to another. Money just evaporates. It’s as though adulting is a mystery beyond his reach. I’ve lost count of the times that we’ve thrown money at him and I don’t want to even think about how much. It’s literally thousands, always a loan, yet he never, ever pays back.

He left his job. That was inevitable too; he worked for his ex-father-in-law’s company. Heaven only knows how long the writing was on the wall; it was pretty swift once she left. He drifted again. He chose to live in a squalid flat with no heating rather than move back with us. Absolutely his choice, not ours. 

We moved to Scotland. That meant all his stuff had to go into storage. Quick rewind - he moved all his stuff to ours when he gave up the house he & his ex lived in, but refused to move back home. I had to rent a storage unit to make space for all his gear & when we moved I shifted all his gear into the store, gave him the key & told him I’d paid three months up front; after that it was his to deal with. Apparently, he surrendered the store and moved all his gear into the flat...

Fast forward to a couple of months back. He’d run out of options at the flat. His flatmate was “really difficult” to live with. His ex had moved away, taking their son with her. He had nothing left to stay for and, surprise, he’d lost his job again so he couldn’t afford the rent. 

My wife convinced me we should give him one last shot, citing his fragile mental health. I agreed on the strict understanding that we are simply no longer in a position to support him. He assured us he’d be applying for work as soon as he got here. We rarely see him before midday...

We agreed the end of the first week in March. We knew he’d arrive with a ton of stuff so we had (again) to create space. That’s infinitely more difficult now we’re running a B&B, but we set to the task. Suddenly, two weeks sooner than we’d agreed, he rented a van and was on his way. No discussion, no warning. We only found out because he put something on FB. 

Finally, after trying to reach him most of the day, he phoned. Whilst we should have been relieved, instead we were treated to a barrage of abuse because all the petrol stations were shut. Of course they were. It was in a national lockdown and why would they stay open when there was no one on the roads? JFC, who embarks on a journey in sub-zero temperatures across some of the most inhospitable country in the UK without enough fuel? With a six year old child. Yes, not only did he forget to tell us about his change of plans, he forgot to tell us he was bringing his son too.

We drove south through the night for two hours to find him somewhere in the Cairngorms where he’d run out of fuel. No fuel meant no heaters at 1500 feet in deep snow. The ambient temperature was -5ºC/23ºF & with wind chill that was probably around -10ºC/14ºF. We found him & refuelled his van. No thanks, just another barrage of abuse, because he was tired. We took his son into our car & drove the two hours back in near silence. I think we knew then that it was an awful predictor of what was to come.

We’ve had row after row. He accused me of being passive-aggressive in the last. He actually ticks all the boxes for passive-aggressive behaviour. I’ve never been tagged with that before; if anything I’m too forthright, blunt even. That’s a failing to which I will admit. If by that he meant that I don’t talk about the elephant in the room, it’s only because we fear it’ll lead to another explosion.

He never saw the damage that we sustained during our fostering years. He was never there. Yet here we are, experiencing flashbacks to those traumatic incidents; the parallels are exact. We have the benefit of years of training. We recognise manipulative behaviour when we see it - we were trained by some of the nations best exponents - and we know divisive tactics implicitly.  What he doesn’t know is that he will succeed only in pushing us closer together and alienating himself even further.

There are clear and well-documented links between cannabis and mental health issues. He is allowing the drug to determine his life choices. Although I may be wrong, I think he’s cultivating skunk, which is nothing like the weed that circulated in my youth. The smell that pervades our hallway is instantly evocative of high strength Afghan resin. It’s also going to be acutely difficult to eradicate before we’re due to open.

We’ve endured 20 years of this treatment. I know that even if we have a ritual burning, it will only be a matter of time before we’re back here again. We’re old. We’re tired. And we’ve worked our socks off (and still do) to achieve what we have. Maybe somewhere along the way we missed something. But I’m at a stage where I’m so far beyond this I just want it to stop.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

A Darcy Day Off

As promised, I present ~6,800 words of a sick, miserable Fitz/willi/am Dar/cy. I’ve been working on this on and off for an embarrassingly long time so I’m glad to finally clear it out of my WIP folder to make room for new things. But honestly, it was a pleasure to write, and I hope some of you take pleasure in reading it as well!

Definitely he first chapter, and honestly the first 2 chapters are mostly exposition, so if you want to skip straight to the sickfic goodness and reduce the word count, head to chapter 3. But I had fun writing (and worked hard on) the banter and conversation in the beginning, so I opted to keep it. 

( @chezsnez @empresskaze @groundcontrol21 you all asked so nicely, so I hope this is what you were looking for! )

1.

“Darcy, dear, what’s keeping you? I thought we were to meet in the library for tea,” Elizabeth called. She found him still in his study, hunched over the desk. She danced to his side, planting a kiss atop his head. He leaned against her briefly in greeting.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I had more business to attend to today than I’d realized. Just finishing up now.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly, then his nose, trying to be rid of a tickle that had been infuriating him all day.

“Always at your work. I wonder our estate isn’t the finest run in Britain. And here I used to think people of high class such as yourself worried for nothing but amusing themselves all day.” She gently rubbed his neck where she knew he always got an ache when he wrote. He kissed her hand fondly.

“You are of such a class, too, now, my love. And how do you know it isn’t the finest? I’d be willing to wager a year’s salary this estate could be measured against parliament’s own estates and be proven worthy, if I have anything to say about it.”

“You pour your very soul into all that goes on here, and it’s one of the many things I adore about you. I am proud every day to be the mistress of such an estate. Only I wish you wouldn’t work so hard and take more time to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

“Are you accusing me of ignoring you, dearest? Only say the word and I would throw all my responsibilities to the winds and devote myself fully to your entertainment.” 

He kept his tone light and playful, teasing her, but looked at her closely even as he did. Had he been neglecting her too much of late? He had had several pressing business matters on his mind these last weeks, and he knew he had been at his desk more than usual. Lizzie had not complained of course, and had been nothing but supportive and helpful, but the last thing he would ever want to do is make her doubt where his priorities lay, namely that she was foremost in his mind and heart, and in all things.

“Not at all, for you well know I’m quite fond of my own company. However, I can't help but worry about you. You put too much responsibility on yourself; you are positively careworn these days. I only wish your more lighthearted side could see the light of day now and again, and not just when we’re alone.”

“I am my truest self when I’m with you.” He kissed her hand again, then rubbed his nose. “I will always struggle being lighthearted while working. The two have never gone hand in hand in my experience; gravity and soberness were expected whilst doing business in my growing years under my father, and others. All the more reason I have need of your influence.” 

She kissed his head again. “Very well, I accept the mantle of helping you find levity in your working hours. If only so that the strain you put on yourself will not affect your health. You put on a casual, careless demeanor in public, but I know better. You bear the weight of the world on those broad shoulders of yours, and that is a burden no man is meant to carry, even by his own choice. So come now, and join your wife for tea. The letters can wait another hour or so, surely.

“Indeed they can.” He stood and stretched stiffly. The chill winter wind howled outside and the sound made him shiver, glad for the roaring heat from the fire nearby, and in every room in the house as he moved to escort his wife to the library. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The couple spent a pleasant hour or two in their favorite room in the house, chatting warmly at times, and sitting in comfortable silence at others. The relentless wind made Darcy feel sleepy and lazy, and he wanted nothing more than to take his wife’s advice and take the rest of the day to relax. He would have been content to remain here for the rest of the evening with his favorite person and simply read and chat and perhaps nap. But he had two more letters that needed to make the post tomorrow, and if he did not finish them now, he never would. He stood quietly and brushed his lips across his wife’s cheek. She nuzzled back, then watched as he lingered before the library fire longer than necessary, warming his hands and rear.

“Are you all right, my dear?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. I’ve developed a slight headache is all, and it makes the task of my remaining letters all the more daunting.”

“I can imagine. I wish you would take a day off sometime soon, so that you may rest for longer than a few hours at a stretch. I believe it would do you wonders. Winter is generally a time for peaceful contemplation, but it’s been a frenzy of activity for you these past months. You are overdue for some leisure, my love.”

“You are right, as usual. Sometime very soon, dearest, I will take a week or two off and we will spend all the leisurely hours together you could wish. Perhaps we’ll even have a romp outside in the snow. Within the next month, once this mess is more or less cleaned up. Would that suit you?”

“It would suit me very fine indeed. While you could never be accused of neglecting me, I have been missing my husband of late, most especially his smile. That has been the most absent part of you.”

“For that I am sorry. I don’t like to bring my business affairs into our life together. My lovely, patient wife. You are too good to me.

“Well and I could say the same of you, so there. Enough of that. Come kiss me again, then go to your work before you fall asleep standing up.”

“As you command.” He was truly in danger of this, as he felt his lids growing heavier all the time, so he forced himself to move away from the pleasant heat, going to her side and kissing her fully this time, savoring her sweet lips before reluctantly pulling away. “Away I go. See you soon, darling.”

 Mr. Darcy could not rid himself of the clinging fatigue for the rest of the evening. His remaining letters took longer than usual, and he knew they were not as well done as they ought to be, but at least they were done. When they were finished, he tossed his pen aside eagerly and stretched his stiff neck. Perhaps he should take those leisure days sooner rather than later. He really hadn’t been feeling his best lately, and the wintery weather that had had them in its grasp for weeks certainly wasn’t helping. Also, he missed his wife, though he had just seen her. He missed spending time with her, and not just in stolen hours here and there. 

Right now all he wanted was to curl up beside her in bed, and talk of sweet nothings, and perhaps make sweet love. Hopefully that would help shake this irritating headache. Yes, they were long overdue for quality time spent together. He would make arrangements for some time away immediately, hopefully as early as a fortnight from now. The thought immediately made him calmer as he finished up a few small things, then hurried to find her and begin the more pleasant part of the evening.

2.

“Heh-KERRR-CHOOOOO! Heh- heh- KITSHHH’CHOOOO”

A bellowing sneeze startled Elizabeth from her book the next morning, and the even louder one that followed caused her to go investigate it’s source. To her surprise, following the sound of the miserable sniffles led to her husband’s study, where she found him ineffectually wiping his dripping nose with an already-damp handkerchief. 

“My dear Mr. Darcy, is that you making all that racket? My heavens, bless you! I don’t know as I’ve ever heard a sneeze so resounding in all my life. Were you holding it in all morning for it to grow to such a volume?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he sniffled sourly. “It was merely a sneeze.”

She quirked an eyebrow, amused. “I would beg to argue. You sneeze particularly violently, my dear. Likely because, as I noted, you hold them in until you can’t anymore.”

“Well, since you are evidently the expert,” he muttered as he pressed on with his work, coughing softly. 

She rarely saw this severe, prickly side of him these days, and this, more than anything else, concerned her and made her know he shouldn’t be teased at present. He really must be feeling poorly. She moved to his side and pressed against him as she had the day before, rubbing his shoulder. He did not respond, physically or otherwise.

“You are unwell, my love. You should go take some rest. You quite look as if you have gotten the wrong end of this cold of a sudden.”

“I am fine. Don’t worry yourself. I am only in need of some tea and I shall be quite well.”

“I’d be happy to fetch you tea, but I’d be happier to fetch it for you in bed, or at least in your chair in the library. I fear these large windows will do you no favors with the draft.”

“I have many things I need to see to today. I cannot take time to rest. And all my files are here in the study. I haven’t been ill since I was a boy. I’m certainly not going to be ill now.”

Lizzie sighed and shook her head at the foolishness of males. “Have it your way, then. I’ll see you get some tea. Was there anything else you’d like?”

“Just a scone or two. Thank you, dearest.” He finally turned his gaze to her, and she saw true gratitude there, despite the reddened, watery eyes and dripping nose. “And forgive my rudeness when you came in. You startled me, but I should not speak to you like that. Please forgive me.”

“Of course you’re forgiven, and I am sorry I startled you. You know I only worry about you because I love you.”

“As I love you, my Lizzie.” He coughed wetly into his handkerchief. “Now please, if you’d leave me. I really do have much to do, and you are ever my truest distraction. I will see you this evening. And please know, I am doing all this so that we can have our time together very soon.”

“Yes, my dear.” She sighed softly and made her way out, stopping one of the servants to request her husband’s tea and scones. She gave explicit instructions for the type of tea and what was to be in it, things to soothe an aching throat and ward off fever. If he wouldn’t have a care for his own body, she would be forced to do it for him. She only hoped he would see reason sooner than later and take himself off to bed before he caught his death in that drafty study.

~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, Darcy was endlessly studious and conscientious, not to mention stubborn, and so he stayed in his study, or was running around with different servants and community members all day. He did his best to conduct his business as excellently as ever, despite how very unwell he was beginning to feel.

When their paths would cross later in the day though, she could see he was flagging. His cough had become quite the nuisance, and his nose and lips were raw and chapped. Dark circles began to show under his eyes, vivid against sickly pallor. Every now and again, she heard a massive, wet sneeze disturb the air from wherever he was. She gave him sympathetic smiles and little encouragements whenever she could, but what she truly wanted was to see him to bed and tend to his every need there. The misery on his face made her ache for him. If only he wasn’t so proud. And yes, stubborn.

She was quite relieved when he joined her at their evening meal, wearily announcing he was done working for the day, and she told him such. He was quiet and withdrawn for the remainder of the evening, aside from his frequent sniffles and coughs, and the occasional explosive sneeze, which never failed to make her jump, even as they became more and more frequent. 

Taking his lead, she also said very little, reading exhaustion in every line of his frame, especially as his sneezes and coughs harshened. If she had been another woman, and he another man (indeed, her parents came to mind), she would have said again that she wished he would take the day off tomorrow. But it was not in her to nag, and if she had he would only have become angry, or withdrawn completely. She had said her part this morning, and she knew he had heard her and remembered. What he did from here was his choice alone. 

She watched him unobtrusively as he dozed by the fire that evening, feeling such love in her breast for her dedicated, hardworking husband, but no small amount of worry either. They had been married nearly three years, and she had never once seen him ill. She hoped it was truly only trifling, as he kept insisting it was whenever anyone asked. 

They went to bed earlier than usual, her feigning equal tiredness for his sake, so he wouldn’t feel he was being a burden. But indeed, all she wanted of the rest of this day was to lie beside him in bed, perhaps rub his back, and just be near him for whatever he needed. To her delight, that is exactly what happened. He said very little, and asked for nothing, stifling sneezes now and again even as his frequent, chesty coughing fits worsened, but merely lay beside her and let her rub away at his aches and chills as he fell asleep.

3.

Darcy and Eliza were both early risers, and both loved to greet the day while it was still fresh and full of promise. Being the man though, Mr. Darcy was always up and about before his wife, for it took him far less time to dress, and there were several things he liked to see to before breakfast, though he never neglected to kiss her goodbye as he left.

Imagine her surprise then, when the next morning found him still soundly asleep beside her when her maids came in to help her dress at their usual time. The sound of their arrival woke her, but her poor husband hardly stirred. She hurried out of bed, calming the poor, startled ladies in hushed tones, assuring them they had done no wrong. They helped her dress and fix her hair simply and comfortably before Elizabeth shooed them out again, saying she wasn’t sure what they should tell the other staff, as she had no idea what mind her husband would be in when he finally woke. 

Lizzie sighed as they left. Now it would be all over the house that he was sick abed, and who knew what other irrepressible rumors. He would hate that. However, at present it was the truth so he would just have to deal with it whenever he woke. In the meantime, she picked up her book and read in the chair by the fire, wanting to be close when he woke.

That turned out to be shortly thereafter. He first began to toss and turn a bit, then he started to cough, then he nearly made her jump out of her chair with one of his tremendous sneezes. 

“Heh -KER- CHUUUUHHF!” The noise was thick and miserable-sounding, more than hinting at painfully clogged sinuses and a raw, scratchy throat. While he was mopping the mess from his face with his handkerchief, his lungs decided to take their turn at clearing themselves as well, and he erupted into a series of wet, strenuous coughs. 

She made her way to his side during this sad display, gently stroking his tousled hair as he quieted. He groaned softly when he was able and pressed into her embrace, still holding the handkerchief to his nose, eliciting a cluck of sympathy from his wife at his sorry state.

“My poor dear,” she murmured. “Your health is much worse this morning.”

“Mby head is like a lead weight od the pillow,” he croaked. “Fatigue weighs dowd mby limbs dreadfully.”

“Then you will not work today?”

“Mby wise wife advised that I look after mby body more, and today mby body tells mbe I must rest, so rest I shall,” he murmured sleepily. “As long as you’ll keeb mbe company?”

“I would love nothing more. This is perhaps not the leisurely day we had hoped for, but I’ll accept it just the same." She tenderly caressed his cheek, frowning as she felt it. "You are terribly feverish, darling." Yet she hardly needed to feel, for just by looking at his flushed, sweaty face and seeing him shake with chills, the fever made its presence known.

"And yet I'mb chilled to the bone. I had forgotten how beastly udpleasant it is to catch cold," he rasped with a thick sniffle.

"Indeed, it makes one feel for your poor sister all the more. It seems she is laid up with a cold every other week. Now, how does tea appeal to you? And perhaps some food? You hardly touched supper last night."

"Tea would be lovely. Mby abbetite still eludes me however. But, if only to please you, I would try sumb toast and an egg."

Lizzie had servants running for his requests in short order while Darcy tended to his nose, blowing it over and over, soaking through more than one handkerchief. His tray was delivered in record time. Seeing it arrive, Darcy slowly levered himself to a sitting position, pressing a hand to his temple.

"Mby head is throbbi'g," he mumbled.

Elizabeth pressed the cup of tea into his hands, looking sympathetic. "Drink some. It may help your head."

He did as he was bid, drawing his knees to his chest like a boy as he drank while she rubbed his back. However, another tremendous sneeze almost made him spill the whole thing. 

“Ah- ah- KITCHSHOOOOO! Ugh…” He sought his handkerchief desperately, and when Elizabeth handed it to him, he pressed it harshly against his streaming nose to stem the flow, groaning as he did. Elizabeth hastily took the teacup from his again, for it seemed in danger of being upended at any moment.

"Bless you! My poor dear, what can I do for you? Besides keeping a stack of handkerchiefs here for your poor nose."

"I would ask you to help mbe dress in a few moments," he said, his voice muffled behind the fabric as he tried to rub away the headache between his eyes. "While I will be as quick as I cad, I must speak to mby steward and give hib sumb idstructions for mby absence."

"Can you not write him instead? I fear for you going out in the cold, lest this settles in your chest."

"Mby head aches too miserably to do a probber job with writing. I fear I would forget somethi'g crucial. Ndo, I'll quickly  go dowd and speak to hib, and thed I'll return. Ndo going outside for mbe today, never fear."

She sighed and nodded, knowing he would not be dissuaded. "At least finish your tea and try some egg before you go so you don't collapse on the stairs."

"I'mb far from collapse mby dear, I assure you." His general appearance said otherwise though, as he had been miserably coughing into his handkerchief throughout the whole conversation, and had yet to stop shivering. However, she held her tongue and served him breakfast instead. 

Lizzie saw he made an effort to eat as much as he could, and though it was only a few bites, she was slightly placated. She knew he would not relax until he had set what affairs he could in order. So, after his tea was gone, when he rose and began to dress, she assisted him, for she realized the sooner he left, the sooner he would return.

"I'd rather not ri'g for mby valet, as I'd be worried I would sdeeze on hib," muttered Darcy, looking embarrassed as she straightened his jacket while he futilely tried to blow his nose, which only served to make him cough yet again.

"It's no trouble at all, dear. Only please hurry back. I truly worry for that cough." 

"I'll be back under your watchful eye as quick as I cad, dearest," he murmured, grazing her ear with his lips as she slipped an extra handkerchief in his pocket. With that, he was gone, his boots thumping down the hall wearily.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time dragged as she waited for him. While she knew he could take care of himself and she didn't need to be here the moment he returned, she also knew he would want her to be. Her husband was a strong man, but at times like these, he depended on her, and she was not about to disappoint him. So, while there were plenty of things she could have seen to around the manor herself, she waited in his sitting room with her needlework, keeping the fire high. 

Finally she heard him in the hall. She rushed to open the door as he shuffled in, looking spent. 

 "Darcy dear! I expected you an hour ago!"  she said, helping him shed his coat. Suddenly she felt his shoulders hitch under her hands as his breath scissored:

"Ktt-tsshhEEW!" The wet spraying sneeze was his response, only partially stifled by the sodden handkerchief he held. She blessed him worriedly as he again mopped his face.

"I'mb sorry, dearest," he finally managed. "I was stobbed many tibes between mby study and here to answer questions. I cabe as quick as I could."

He fell wearily into the chair nearest the fire with a deep groan and a deeper cough. He bent to try and remove his boots, but his efforts were hampered, as his nose streamed dreadfully if he bent over. He had to keep a hand pressed to his face as he tried to undo the fastenings with the other. 

Elizabeth knelt in front of him and gently pushed his hands away, loosening and removing the boots herself as he leaned back in the chair, sniffling wetly. 

"Thagk you, mby love," he croaked. 

"Here, have some more tea, I've just had Mary bring some. There, now what suits you best? Shall we cover you warmly and sit here by the fire, or would you like me to fetch you some soup? I won't ask if you want to call for Dr. Bishop yet since I know what you'll say, though I have half a mind to."

"There's ndo need for the doctor," replied her husband. "Whad I most want right now is to lie dowd and sleeb sumb few hours yed. Mby mind is sluggish. I cad hardly grasp on a thought except how exhausted I amb."

"Then take my arm and let's get you to bed, poor man. I imagine some more sleep will do wonders for you."

"I don't need help walki'g mby dear, I'm not invalid, only full of cold." Even still, he took her proffered arm as he stood and rested a hand on her shoulder warmly as she led him to the bedroom.

"That may be, but I'll see you there myself just the same to make sure there's no distractions along the way." She kissed his hand and caressed it fondly as they made their way to the bed. She helped him remove all the clothes she had helped him don not long before and replace them with his nightshirt. While he clearly needed to sleep, he also seemed loath to let her out of his sight. He remained sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment with her pressed against his side. She scratched his back fondly. 

“You should lie down, dear. You’re more asleep than awake.”

Instead, he wrapped his arms around her unexpectedly, burying his face in her abdomen with a weary sigh. Elizabeth was slightly startled, but gladly reciprocated the embrace, burying her face in his hair. Her husband was an affectionate man, but not usually physically so. This gesture from him, while not at all unwelcome, was unexpected. 

“I feel terrible,” he groaned, barely audible, leaning most of his weight against her. “Mby body runs amok with mbe.”

“So it seems. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t wish this cold of yours on anyone.”  

She held him for a few peaceful moments. Just as she was about to again suggest he lie down, for it seemed he was in danger of falling asleep against her, his back twitched violently and he tried to pull away.

“heh-GIHH’CHOOOO! Hehht-kk’CHOOOOOF!” 

Neither had time to react as poor Mr. Darcy sneezed thickly, his face still pressed against his startled wife. She couldn't suppress a little gasp as he pulled away, stammering apologies and wiping his traitorous nose. 

She was silent a moment appraising the state of her dress, then an unladylike snort of laughter escaped her, sending her into a little fit of giggles even as she comforted her overwrought husband, pressing him gently back against the pillows. 

“It’s all right, my love. Such things happen. ‘Tis only a dress, and I have plenty more. It seems neither of us are coming away from this cold of yours unscathed. But there now, you’re completely spent. You can hardly keep your eyes open, red as they are. Take some more rest, my love.”

“You’re too good to mbe,” he croaked, fighting against his heavy eyelids but already nearly asleep, the handkerchief still in his limp hand on the bed.

She reached out, caressing his face and brushing hair from his brow. “No more of that. Close your eyes and sleep, for how else do you expect to get better?” She clucked her tongue softly again. “You really are painfully warm, poor man. It is most worrisome,” she said, more to herself than him.

“I’ll be alright,” he mumbled, the last word turning into a snore as he finally gave in to the needs of his body.

~~~~~~~~~~

4.

That was to be the last interaction Mr. Darcy would remember for quite some time. He fell into a deep sleep then, and everything that happened over the next few days would be blurred flashes in his mind at best, hazed by illness and fever.

Of course, the same could not be said for Elizabeth. After he fell asleep, she left him and tended to some of her duties around the manor (after changing her gown, naturally). She did not want to hover in the sickroom, both for her sake and his, so she forced herself to stay away for several hours, knowing he would ring if he needed something.

Still, in the late afternoon she returned, unable to stay away any longer. He was exactly as she had left him, snoring softly. He didn’t seem to have moved at all in his sleep, which was most unlike him. She again went to feel his forehead, sensing something amiss. He was much warmer than before. A knot of worry pulsing in her heart, she tried to shake him awake. He opened his eyes and seemed to look at her, but she could tell he wasn’t truly awake, and didn’t respond when she spoke to him, only grunted and coughed, trying to roll over and sleep again. 

Without further ado, she sent for Doctor Bishop, pacing the halls outside Darcy’s rooms until he arrived, wringing her hands in worry and opening the door to check on her husband every few minutes, to ensure he got no worse.  

The doctor arrived quickly, heading right into the sickroom. He did a thorough examination, listening to Mr. Darcy’s heart and lungs, checking his pulse and 100 other things. Darcy woke briefly a few times, but only managed answers of a word or less before he dozed off again. His large frame looked somehow both bigger and smaller than it should, curled up limply on the bed, with only his breathing as evidence of life. After he was through, the wise doctor scrutinized his patient, deep in thought. Elizabeth remained silent, waiting with baited breath. Finally the doctor turned to her. 

“You said he’s been overworking himself and run down lately, yes?”

“Yes, doctor. Business has been troubling him of late.”

“Hm. So it seems. Well, overall his vital signs are normal for a man with a cold. I see nothing overly alarming, excepting the high fever. That is a touch worrisome, but can at times be seen in such cases. No, I don’t fear any illness has befallen him except what you’ve said, a bad cold. I think he’s simply exhausted, and this cold has caught up with him and brought everything down at once. I’ll wager the fever will subside in a day or two, and the rest in the days after that as long as he gets the rest he sorely needs. I shan’t prescribe him anything except what he already has here with you, Mrs. Darcy. Let him sleep as much as he wants, keep him hydrated and don’t cover him too warmly, and I think this will run its course soon enough.”

It was as if great weight fell off her shoulders as he spoke. “Oh, thank you doctor! Indeed, I shall do just as you say, and make sure he does as well.”

“Please do. The stubbornness of the Darcys is well known to me, for my father and his father have been treating this family for generations. I’ll come round to see him every day until I’m satisfied he’s on the mend, if that suits you.”

“Oh, yes please, and thank you kindly. You have my deepest gratitude, sir.”

“My pleasure, madame. Until tomorrow.” He tipped his hat and was gone.

With a huge sigh of relief, Elizabeth collapsed on the chair at her husband’s bedside. After a moment, she found his hand under the quilt and held it, needing to feel his touch, even if in unconsciousness. After a moment, he unexpectedly squeezed it. She looked up to see his eyes were fluttering closed, but his face was angled toward her now. She took a moment to appreciate that fine face, though currently his nose, cheeks, and eyes were matching shades of red against the sickly pallor over the rest of him.

She sighed and softly kissed his hand. “Get well soon, my dear.”

He certainly took his time doing so, or so it seemed to Eliza. Either she or Georgiana were at his side at all times. He slept constantly, barely waking even to drink water. He spoke hardly at all and asked for nothing. He would intermittently shake with chills, or else sweat profusely. He sneezed in thick, messy fits, several at a time, but then would go hours between, until the sensation again overpowered and woke him. He coughed more often, since that it seemed he could do even as he slept. 

Yes, he slept, but he was overall restless. Noise in the room roused him. He stirred when he was touched. He stirred when he coughed. He woke when he sneezed. His sleep didn’t seem peaceful, which was perhaps why he never fully woke, because he wasn’t fully resting. 

The first night, Elizabeth slept in her own rarely-used bedroom (she much preferred sharing his), wanting him (and herself) to rest as much as possible. The second night though, she was achingly lonely, missing his touch, his voice, and his smile. So, she crawled into her usual place beside him in his bed, pressing herself against him. She found herself cold, as she had been since he was ill from the worry, so his warmth was more than pleasant. 

She herself relaxed immediately as soon as she was against him, but more surprisingly, so did he. He didn’t wake and hardly stirred when he felt her, but his breathing quickly deepened and he relaxed more fully as they rested against each other. Basking in the sensation of enjoying one another’s touch, they both slept the whole night that way. 

~~~~~~~~~~

More than 48 hours after he first fell asleep, Darcy finally woke up completely. Naturally, it was a sneeze that did it. 

“Heh’gihh’CHUUUHFF! AHHGK-CHOOOF! … ow….”

Something in the tone made Lizzie turn. She had been sitting facing the fire with her needlework, but glancing at the bed, she saw her husband sitting up, one hand to his temple, the other wiping his nose, and looking aware of his surroundings for the first time in 2 days. She dashed to his side, feeling his forehead at once.

“Bless you, dear. My, but it’s good to see you awake! Oh, and your fever is much decreased, how wonderful! How do you feel? Is your head hurting you? Here, drink some water, the doctor said you’re likely dehydrated…”

She wanted to prattle on, but she saw he was a bit overwhelmed, so she forced her tongue to be still. She gently grasped his hands, to calm him as well as herself, and kissed them fondly. She then handed him a glass of water, and he drank gratefully as she looked him over. He seemed a bit better, but he continued to look around in a dazed way.”

“Have I been asleeb long?” he finally rasped, his voice totally gone, and still stuffed tight with congestion.

“I would say so. It’s been two days darling.” She did her best to keep the worry and accusation out of her voice. He couldn’t help that he’d been ill.”

“Two days?! Good heavens.” He fell back against the pillows with a groan and a cough. “Ndo wonder I feel so sluggish.”

“Yes, but it seems you needed it. The doctor has been out every day, and he says you were suffering from exhaustion. Your body was taking the rest it sorely needed.”

“So it seebs.” He rubbed his eyes wearily.

“How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Sumb better, I thingk,” he said with a wet sniffle. “Less fevered. I am still weary, and will sleep another night soundly through, but I hope I’m on the mend now.”

“As do I.” She kissed his hand again, squeezing it tightly.

~~~~~~~~~~

5.

Mr. Darcy was indeed on the mend. He was moving about his rooms freely the next day, and 2 days after that, he was allowed by the doctor (and his wife, grudgingly) to resume his duties, though at a reduced basis, for his cough still lingered, along with some fatigue. Yet he was incredibly cheerful to be leaving his rooms, and everywhere he went, he had a spring in his step.

That same day he was freed found Elizabeth curled on the settee in her rarely-used personal sitting room, wrapped in a coverlet and trying to read. However, her dripping nose and throbbing headache prevented her from making much progress in the story. 

A barking cough burst out of her against her will, making her drop her book. With a feeble groan, she reached down to retrieve it, holding a handkerchief to her streaming nose. She had known she likely wouldn’t escape catching her husband’s cold, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant. However, she was not about to spoil his first day of freedom with her own illness, so she was hiding here to avoid him as long as she could.

Just as she was thinking this, she heard his boots in the hall, and she suppressed another groan. He knocked softly, then peeked in the door, looking happy as well as confused when he saw her.

“Mary said I might find you here, but I thought she must be mistaken. Whatever are you doing? I was hoping to meet you for tea.”

She took a breath to answer, but instead the urge to sneeze snuck up on her. She shoved her elbow against her face, turning away from him to stifle the stubborn urge harshly:

“HXXT’GH! HNNKT! HXXTCH! Guh…” she mumbled at the end, which turned into a painful cough that she hardly had breath for.

Darcy was at her side in a moment, kneeling by her arm and feeling her forehead just as she had his so many times the past few days. Concern and regret crossed his face. “You have a fever, dearest. It seems I’ve shared my cold with you,” he said, stifling a little cough.

“You always were the gentleman, never failing to share with a lady,” she groused weakly.

His low chuckle was warm. “I’m truly sorry. Yet I heard you hardly left the bedchamber while I was ill, so I suppose it was inevitable.”

“Especially since you sneezed on me,” she mumbled, trying not to smile.

“Indeed,” he chuckled again. “I’m sorry for that as well. But now, enough talk. Rest your voice. Come up to bed and I’ll see you get some tea and toast.”

“Perhaps I don’t want to go to bed, did that occur to you? I’ve spent all week in that bedchamber and I’d prefer to not be forced to go back,” she muttered petulantly. 

“I can tell you’re feeling unwell, for you’re never so irritable. That more than anything tells me I must see you to bed immediately.” His tone indicated some teasing, but mostly seriousness. Without further ado, he scooped her up in one motion and stood, carrying her toward their bedchamber, a little smile playing around his lips. 

“Why you--! I’ve never been thus treated in my entire life. Put me down, you terrible man!” Yet she couldn’t keep from laughing, miserable though she was, which of course turned into a cough. She hadn’t felt so ill in a long time. In fact, the overwhelming urge to sneeze was coming over her again. She struggled weakly to free her arms from where he had them pinned, but it was too late: 

“Hhh’rrrrushh’eeeew! Herrr’CHEW! Hihhh’knn’CHOOF!” She sneezed explosively against his chest, covering them both in the spray. His steps paused as he looked down at her, open-mouthed, while she stared back, reddening in embarrassment, but slightly triumphant.

“...bless you, my Lizzie,” Darcy finally said, an odd smile on his face.

“Thank you. I’m terribly sorry!... But what choice did I have, when I can’t move my arms? Now we’re even, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled again as he resumed walking. “And I suppose if you must sneeze on someone, it’s best if it’s me, as I can’t very well catch this cold again. But all the more reason for me to see you to bed. You look a mess. In the loveliest possible way, of course.”

“How charming you are, Mr. Darcy. You have quite a way of flattering a woman.”

He chuckled again, but by this time they had reached his bedchamber. He deposited her on the bed with the utmost gentleness, and proceeded to assist her in changing into more comfortable clothes. She shivered miserably as she changed so that her teeth nearly chattered. Darcy tucked her in warmly and quickly rang for some tea, then began to remove his own boots and coat. She watched him curiously, though with heavy eyes, for she suddenly she found herself exhausted. With pleasure she realized he planned to join her in bed. 

He did just that a few moments later, pulling her close against himself and wrapping her in his big, warm arms. She nuzzled in gratefully with a sniffle and a cough. He buried his face in her hair as they settled, coughing as well. 

“What are you doing, Darcy dear? I thought you had many things to do today,” she mumbled, already nearing sleep. “You’ve had so many days off yourself. You needn’t take another for me, though it seems we’re quite a mess still.”

“This has become the most important thing I must do today,” he yawned. “You were a saint to look after me this whole week, so now I must return the favor. I’m not likely to let an opportunity pass to spend time with you after these past weeks, for I’ve learned my lesson.  And I too am already weary, for this cold hasn’t quite left me. A nap would suit me fine, especially if I can warm you in the process.” 

When a servant arrived with tea, no one greeted him, and when he opened the door with the tray, he found it best to simply leave it nearby and duck out again, for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were fast asleep. 

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers Part 2: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: there's no forgiveness for the sinful.

wc: 1.3k

tw: none

masterlist

Your eyes are glued to the man in front of you as he taps his pen on the table, waiting for the assignment from the Grand Council.

“Can you stop that?” you quip, and he pauses his tapping, glancing at you before setting his pen down.

You sit back in your chair, sighing, wishing your parents could have done anything to fix the issue in front of you. But when you called, they sympathized with you before admitting there was nothing they could do.

“Think of it this way,” your father murmured. “Now you have even more of an opportunity to show how strong and capable you are. This is a gift to you, y/n. You can make the best out of this situation.” The inspirational chatter didn’t cut through the fact that this Leviathan could very well get you killed, and there was nothing to be done about it.

“Sorry about the wait,” Gojo grumbles, entering the room and taking his sunglasses off. “I had to bring Yuji and Choso down from their overexcitement. Okay,” Satoru closes the door to your shared living space, tossing a file onto the table. “First task. There’s an exclusive club downtown named ‘Sinful’. I need you, y/n, to go in and infiltrate the club for one week. Doesn’t matter what you pose as, but I need some information about the club owner.” You flip open the manilla folder and look at the pale face of your target, who only goes by ‘Mahito’. Get in, dig up some dirt, get out. Geto, I need you to pose as a bouncer and bring his second-in-command to the warehouse uptown.” Geto takes the picture of his second in command, Uraume, and nods. “And make sure you watch y/n’s back. If she gets into a sticky situation--”

“Get her out,” Geto affirms, and Gojo stands.

“Good. Gather intel today, y/n, and go in tomorrow. I expect to see a report on my desk next week at seven o’clock.” You get up and leave the room without Geto, making your way back to your barrack and going straight to the computer in your room.

“Y/n, can I talk to you?” you hear behind you, and you turn to face the man in the doorway.

“Sure,” you chirp, pretending to be civil for a moment.

“You have an issue with me,” Suguru states, walking into your space. “I want to know what it is.”

“You literally got your Kitsune killed last year, and they won’t reassign me. I don’t have any respect for you.” You turn back to your computer and roll your eyes, typing in names and pulling data.

“You don’t know the whole story, do you?”

“Should I?” you ask, not looking back at the man.

“You should.” You hear the creak of your bed dipping, and you turn away from the computer, mouth open to yell at him for sitting on your bed. But when you see him bite his lip and look at his hands, you stop, waiting to hear him out. “Let me start off by saying that it wasn’t on purpose. I would have never…” Suguru gulps hard. “I would have never sent Yu into that mission if I knew he would have died.”

“But he did.”

“It wasn’t my fault. It was a trap from the start, and Yu didn’t know… we were set up. And I couldn’t get to him fast enough, which is why he died. He was long gone when I arrived.”

“So, why didn’t they say that you were set up?” you question, but he shakes his head, looking at his trembling fingers.

“Because why would they give a Leviathan an excuse when they need someone to blame? And now, I’m supposed to be guarding a child of a Kitsune legacy, and--”

“You’re terrified of a tragedy happening again,” you finish for him, and Geto nods slowly.

“I know I won’t make it out alive if you die on my watch. The Grand Council will exile me… or worse. And the price I paid for letting Yu’s life slip through my fingers was enough to scar me for life.” You eye him carefully, assessing whether he’s telling you a sob story or the truth.

“I don’t believe you,” you quip, and Suguru’s eyes lift up to meet yours in surprise. “Listen, once we finish this mission and get back, I’m not going on another with you even if they kick me out of the CSB. I’ll tell them you redeemed yourself and can go back to being someone else’s Leviathan.”

“Y/n, I--”

“I’m done talking about it.” You turn back to your computer and continue your data search, letting a sigh out when the door to your room closes behind him.

_____________________________________________________________

The exclusive club’s bass pulses loud enough to potentially blow your eardrums out. You’re standing at the bar, mixing a drink while patrons mill about, conversing and watching the show on stage. Geto is standing inside the door, arms crossed over his chest as if he were a big-shot bouncer, but you both know he could handle whatever comes through that door with ease. Your eyes meet briefly, and he nods, but you look away, focusing on your target.

As you turn away, you notice the owner of the club - Mahito - sitting in the VIP section, fiddling with his cash in the open. Showoff, you think, disgusted with his demeanor. Uraume sits next to him, eyes glazed over as he watches the dancers on the pole.

You’d been at this for six nights and gathered enough intel to pack a file full of pictures, fingerprints, and even a dollar bill he gave you as a measly tip for serving him drinks all last night. You grumble internally about the show of disrespect, still heated from the exchange, but you remember the CSB pays you - and your partner for that matter - handsomely for each mission completed, so it’s really not about the cash at all.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mahito calls out over the music. “Bring me and my friend some vodka.”

“I don’t want to drink,” Uraume replies, but you bring two glasses of the house’s best vodka anyway, setting it in front of them.

“Thank you.” As you lift up, Mahito grabs your wrist, pulling you down to meet his eyes. “You know, my friend here is a bit of a prude. How about you loosen him up with a little show, hmm?” You want to recoil at the way Mahito licks his lips, but you plaster on a sickly sweet smile as he lets you go.

“What would you like?” you wonder, placing your hands on your legs as you show off your cleavage that spills over your bra. Uraume grimaces, leaning away from you, only muttering,

“I want you to go away.” You place a pout on your lips and throw a glance at Mahito, who shoos you away. Thankful for the dismissal, you go back to the bar when Kyoko, the head bartender, joins you.

“Hey, y/n, we’re going to need three bottles of prosecco.” She tosses you the keys to the storage room and you catch them, confused.

“But you’re the only person that has permission to go back the--”

“I’m occupied with Mr. Friday,” she thumbs back to the roped-off area where two men in suits chug alcohol. “Just don’t get lost in there.” You nod your understanding and walk to the storage room, where all of the alcohol is kept. As you look around for a prosecco, your mind wanders off, trying to memorize the years stored inside. But as you lift a bottle off the shelf and step back, your ankle twists, and you fall backward, hitting the wooden floor with the prosecco.

“Fuck!”

The shattered glass goes everywhere, and you’re left nursing your bloody hand as you attempt to get off your back.

And that’s when you notice it.

A pair of eyes looks at you from under the shelves, their green pupils winking out, then coming back into view as they open again.

“Help me…”

[womenofwonder]

*Ahem* Royai, duh?

✋How they met

Surprisingly, they didn’t meet at her father’s house. Not, actually it happened way back in kindergarten. Riza was quiet, and she dressed funny, and she always seemed dirty, so she was an target for bullying in the rather well to do private school they were in. On the first day of school Roy (who was a Casanova even at age six) decided this would be a good time to rescue a helpless damsel from the bullies surrounding her, taunting. Unfortunately, he underestimated the number and size of the kids teasing her and got his ass kicked. Luckily for him Riza quickly stepped into help. She smashed one bully’s nose in with her book and then pulled out a pocket knife. They all left in a hurry. And at that moment, Roy realized he was in love.

😘First kiss

Ah...so the first kiss wasn’t exactly a happy one. It was during Ishval. They had won a pretty important battle and everyone was celebrating. They both got drunk. The kiss felt good, and Riza probably would have been ready for more despite the circumstances (screw it, she was going to die soon anyway) but Roy walked off. Even drunk he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he didn’t deserve her kisses, especially during a ‘celebration’ of him frying more innocent people. Riza honestly thought he had a problem with her and that was the first time she cried in Ishval.

🤯First fight

It depends on what you mean by fight. They got in a lot of fistfights as kids, but that wasn’t ever personal. They bickered constantly but the only big, painful fight they ever had was on promise day, when she almost had to shoot him. The first lighthearted, bickering fight they ever had was when he was apprenticed to her father and she would remind him to do his homework. Not much has changed, honestly.

🍷First date

When he was still an apprentice to her father, they used to wait until he was asleep and then Roy would take her places. He did it mostly to be nice, because Riza didn’t get a lot of fun and growing up in a brothel met he knew exactly which bars would give a couple of kids drinks. But they were honestly dates in everything but name.

💍How they got engaged

Well, they didn’t make the decision. Grumman declared they were getting married at one of his press conferences. “I have decided to end the anti-fraternization and allow my granddaughter to finally marry General Mustang.” Riza just looked at Mustang and said “Okay.” Later on he did do the entire fancy dinner date and gave her a expensive engagement ring.

💒Wedding

Actually, it was surprisingly small and private. It was really sweet and quiet. To everyone’s surprise Roy made Fullmetal his best man, mostly as a joke. Other than a very insulting speech about how Riza was probably out of her mind to marry such an idiot, he was really nice about everything. Riza’s wedding dress had a very high neck (to hide the scarring) and a very short skirt. She still has a gun holstered to her thigh, wedding or no wedding. Rebecca is the maid of honor, and as Riza honestly doesn’t have many friends both Olivier and Winry are bridesmaids. Of course, Elicia is the flower girl despite being a bit old for it. Hayate is the ring bearer. Just kidding. Maybe.

👶First kid

Riza got pregnant after the first year of the their marriage. It was an accident. Their feelings on the matter were conflicted. On one hand, both were thrilled to have a baby, but in the other hand, it didn’t really fit very well into their plans. How did being a parent figure in with the possibility of future with the fire squad? Not mention both were really worried that they would be horrible parents due to everything they’d done in Ishval. To make things slightly more complicated, it turned out they weren’t going to have one but two children. But when the babies do come: a little Rianna and Thomas, they’re beautiful. Of course, Riza and Roy are great parents and the kids actually help them have more faith in themselves.

🥰A random fluff moment

Riza had forgotten exactly how cold it was up north. Shivering, she blew on her hands in hopes of warming them.

“Here,” Roy said, offering her his coat.

“Don’t you need a coat sir?”

“I had use my flame alchemy to heat myself up,” he said.

“Since when have you mastered that ability sir?”

“Just take the coat.”

She took it.

“You’re shivering an awful lot sir. Are you sure you’re not too cold?”

“N-nope. I-I’m g-r-eat.”

“Sir, really, you can have this coat. You’re going to get frostbite.”

“N-no. You k-keep the coat-t. T-that’s an or-rder.”

Olivier gave them both a look. “Mustang, either freeze to death quietly or kiss her now so we get on with this meeting. I would personally prefer the former, but anything would be better than watching your painful attempts at being a gentleman.”

Riza took advantage of his shock to give him back the coat.

😭A random angsty moment

“Thank you,” she says, as if there’s anything to thank him for. As if he’s not about to torture her.

Roy was good at torturing people. He had plenty of practice at this point. He knew exactly how much of his flame it took to cause a certain amount of pain. At least he could make it hurt as little as possible.

“I won’t scream,” she promised.

“Yeah, you will,” he knew exactly how loud it would be too. He had heard it countless time from countless lips and now he was going to hear it from her.

She nodded, so calm about the entire thing. Took her knife, torn off some of her white coat and wadded it up in her mouth. Stepped forward. Turned around to him.

He told himself to hurry up and do it. Waiting would only hurt her more. It shouldn’t be this hard. He’d done it a hundred times before. What was one more person?

He snapped his fingers, and a familiar smell of burning skin filled the arid desert air.

😩A random hurt/comfort

Riza was exhausted. She wasn’t sure how doing just menial tasks could drain someone so much, but it probably had something to do with the fact that her boss was a homunculus holding her hostage. To make things worst, even coming home was no relief. The shadows were everywhere, even in her small, bare apartment. The second she let herself feel safe, or stopped thinking about the fact that she was being watched constantly, he (or rather it) would remind her. Maybe it was a sudden sense of a creeping bloodlust, or the glimpse of slitted eyes and slices of teeth, all which disappeared the second she looked. She had no privacy. These last few days she hadn’t even dared to bathe.

To make things worst, today someone had broken into her apartment. She couldn’t even fathom why they would do that. Wasn’t the constant surveillance enough? But it was too well down for a common thief. If she hadn’t know better she wouldn’t of even noticed it was broken into. But she had placed a slip of paper in the door when she went out, and now it was gone.

“You’d better have not made a mess of things,” she muttered, hoping Pride could hear it. She opened the door and for a second was frozen in shock.

They hadn’t broken into her apartment at all. Roy had.

Flowers filled up the entire place. Some in vases (really expensive looking ones), some hanging from the ceiling, some just randomly scattered about. In the middle of her kitchen table was a note and bottle of whiskey.

Black Hayate ran up to her, barking happily. She reached down to pet him, rather absentmindedly.

“That idiot,” she murmured, fighting a smile. “He’s crazy.”

She went over to the table and picked up the note.

To 1st Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye,

Look, I’m sorry, but I really didn’t know what to do with the flowers. Please don’t shoot me.

I hope you enjoy the whiskey. It’s really good stuff. And you sounded like you needed it.

Roy Mustang. (Riza had to squint at the doodle next to his name. Was that a heart made out of flames? Really? Yes. Yes it was.)

PS: before you ask, yes, I’m doing my paperwork.

Riza rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop smiling. The flowers left plenty of shadows, but for once she couldn’t bother feeling scared. She took a swig of the whiskey and enjoyed the burn down her throat. Black Hayate jumped into her arms, and she cuddled him.

Leave it to Roy. The first time he sent her flowers and he had to give her an entire cart worth.

[hongism]

the little things - k. hongjoong

↣ pairing: hongjoong x reader; ft. seonghwa, san, mentioned poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, slight angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 3.8k ↣ summary: a job doesn’t go as planned for hongjoong, and you’re left to pick up the pieces ↣ warnings: mentioned illness and death

Hongjoong arguably has the hardest job out of anyone in the coven. You are well aware of that, and the pressure he feels from being the leader of the coven doesn’t help one bit, especially since the majority of the public eye’s judgment falls on his shoulders. He would never admit it out loud, but that pains him quite a bit, even if he is willing to take the judgment of others so his coven doesn’t have to. Seonghwa helps in those moments of weakness, lulling Hongjoong to sleep with a quick spell or trying a myriad of other things to calm the man, but it must be worse than usual for Seonghwa to call on you to help with the issue.

Hongjoong’s magic is draining mostly due to the fact that he is eclectic and likes to dabble in everything. Some spells take more out of him than others, some take no effort, and others require days if not weeks of recovery time. Now, however, there seems to be a different issue.

“A job went south.” That’s the only explanation you got from Seonghwa, but the small shake of his head told you all you needed to know. Because jobs don’t just go south for Hongjoong.

That is what lands you here — steps outside Hongjoong’s room with hand raised and ready to rap roughly against the wood several times. You aren’t sure what awaits you inside, but considering the very late hour, you are hoping to find Hongjoong asleep. The faint yellow candlelight filtering under the door tells you otherwise though, and that’s why you opt to knock rather than barging in unannounced.

“Come in.” Hongjoong sounds tired even in the two small words, but it isn’t the typical kind of tired you’re used to hearing from people. You are used to the exhaustion of the body, people coming to your door for sleep remedies, and nightmare potions meant to dispel the bad dreams that keep them up at night. The exhaustion in Hongjoong’s voice is one that resides deep in the body, one that eats away at the bones and muscles, breaks you down until you can hardly keep your head up. It’s nothing you can’t fix with a simple herbal concoction, but Seonghwa didn’t ask you to bring anything. He didn’t expect you to use your alchemy to fix Hongjoong, thus you’re going to have to rely on words and comfort instead.

You twist the handle as quietly as you can so that you don’t disturb the other sleeping men in the house. Sneaking in was hard enough, especially since Jongho was sprawled out on the couch with Yeosang’s lithe cat form curled up directly on his stomach, but you managed to get past the two of them with little to no disturbances. (And you delivered a few head scratches to Yeosang but that’s beside the point).

“Are you here to heat the tea again? I forgot all about it — oh.” Hongjoong’s thought falls short when he turns to face you, no doubt assuming that it was Seonghwa knocking for the umpteenth time tonight, but instead, he finds you with your hands tucked behind your back and lips stretched into a small smile. “What are you doing here? Did something happen back at the cottage? Did you come alone? Please tell me that you at least carried a ward or charm with you. That walk isn’t safe alone at this hour and I—”

“Hongjoong, darling, please.” Your smile stretches bit by bit as you move towards where Hongjoong is seated at his desk. Back hunched almost painfully, the man seems to be slaving over some old tomes, several books cracked open and laid bare before him, and your heart squeezes tight in your chest from the sight. There’s a barely touched mug of tea alongside the books, no doubt cold at this point, and the small lamp sitting on the corner of the desk illuminates the space.

The tension in Hongjoong’s shoulders remains even as you get within touching distance of him, and you dart a hand out to brush a few loose strands of hair off his forehead. The dark locks cave under your fingers, letting you tuck them back with little resistance. Hongjoong sighs from the gentle touches.

“Long day?” you murmur, despite already knowing the answer.

“Fucked up an important job,” Hongjoong sighs in response. He drops his head and faces forward again, staring down at the book before him. You take the opportunity to look in the same direction but you regret doing so a moment later because of what you see on the page.

Curing terminal illness with magic.

You tug at the back of Hongjoong’s chair, pulling him away from his desk with as much strength you can muster, but eventually he caves and assists you in pushing the chair back. You leave just enough room for you to slip between him and the desk before dropping your hands to his shoulders. No words come from your lips for quite some time; the two of you just remain in that position until tension begins to ebb away from Hongjoong’s shoulders. And the moment that begins to happen, you take advantage of it, dropping atop his lap with little effort and slipping your legs about his waist. Hongjoong’s hands secure at your hips.

Even the slight touch fills your body with energy — it’s weak and fragile, evidence of how much magic Hongjoong used today and how much he’s struggling to even stay awake right now — and you push yourself closer to him in attempts to offer at least some warmth and comfort.

Seonghwa would be better suited for this as a witch, or even San since the man is Hongjoong’s familiar, and yet you were called upon to help Hongjoong. You, the herbalist and alchemist with no magical ability in your bones. It’s a daunting task being asked to help Hongjoong without knowing what to do or having the skills that the others have. Still, you refuse to let that lack of confidence shine through in the slightest, bringing your hands up to cup Hongjoong’s sharp jawline and lift his head. He blinks back at you with wide eyes, dark orbs swirling with a mix of emotions that leaves a deep-seated pain in your heart.

“My love, what happened?”

Hongjoong blinks away from you. Before either of you know it, tears are springing to his eyes, welling them up with crystalline drops that glisten under the yellow lamplight. Not a single one falls quite yet; they still hold onto his eyelashes and waterline for the time being, but the moment he starts speaking, you know they’ll begin to fall. You wait as long as he needs you to, patient as ever as he collects himself and takes several deep breaths to calm down a bit before talking again.

“I promised his father that I would be able to heal him and fix him,” Hongjoong exhales against the exposed part of your neck. “I – h-he trusted me, and I… he died.”

Your arms tighten a bit around Hongjoong out of sheer instinct, and Hongjoong’s breaths tremble before he’s able to get his next words out. You don’t force him to continue the thought; you’ve heard enough to know how badly the job went and why Seonghwa was so concerned when he talked to you earlier. Your fingers brush over the base of Hongjoong’s neck, combing gently through the locks of hair the reside there in a desperate attempt to offer him some comfort.

You don’t need to ask what he’s talking about to understand. There can only be one patient he’s referring to – the young boy of about nine who suffered from a tragic terminal illness, one that left him bed-ridden for years before Hongjoong came along. It only took Hongjoong two weeks to get the boy out of his bed, and another three for the boy to walk around normally. Within two months, he could run and play outside once more, and in the third, the boy and his father were going on weekly fishing trips that always resulted in Seonghwa getting vast deliveries of black bass and rainbow trout. The young boy’s case has always been Hongjoong’s pride — the one job he never tires of, the one he would always return to, the most important one he’s ever had. There were no signs of things going south again.

“I-I wanted his father to be mad at me. Scold me and harass me and berate me. Call me a failure because that’s – that’s what I am, but h-he just… smiled. Told me not to take it too harshly. I was a last-ditch effort as it was. He didn’t expect anything to work and y-yet I was able to at least prolong his son’s death for a few precious months. He was grateful — grateful. Even though his son d-died. Even though I couldn’t save him.”

You pull back to look Hongjoong in the eye now. Dark eyes search yours, still glistening with tears that fall freely now, and they seek answers that you don’t have. All you can do is hold his face with the gentlest touch manageable and bring your forehead down to rest against his.

“Death… death is fickle, mio caro. She takes as much as life gives and is as elusive as a cloud on a clear day. We can’t control her no matter how much we try. While you have the ability to prolong her cold touch, no one can keep her away forever. You gave this boy months of life – a life he was able to cherish and use to the fullest. That was enough. You did enough.” You drag the pads of your thumbs over Hongjoong’s cheeks collecting the tears and brushing them away with ease. He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as you trace faint patterns across his skin.

“I just keep thinking about the ‘what if’s. What if I had noticed the changes sooner? What if I had been quicker to help him? To find a solution or a spell or just… something – anything. Could I have given him more time? His father seemed ready b-but the pain in his eyes when I delivered the news is not something I could readily forget.”

“You don’t have to forget that pain, Hongjoong. No one is asking you to. But put aside the possibilities, and look at reality.”

“The reality is that he died.”

“But not because of you,” you counter with haste, gaze sharpening on Hongjoong a bit as he opens his mouth to protest. “Were you the cause of his illness?”

“…No.”

“Did you do everything in your power to help him?”

“Yes, but there is alwa—”

“Shush, darling.” You drop a hand to where one of Hongjoong’s rests against your hip, taking it in yours and lifting it to your chest. You place his hand directly over your heart and fall completely silent so that he can feel the steady thrum of your heartbeat. “Do you feel that?” You inquire once a few seconds have passed.

“Yes.”

“That’s life, Joong.” A soft smile overtakes your lips. “Where there is death, there is also life. And we cannot focus on the life before us if we are too consumed by the cold touch of death. As much as you want to hear that you’ve failed or made a mistake or deserve to be hated, it is not what you deserve because none of those things are true. You gave that man and his son the most precious gift of all for those months: time. Time they spent together whereas before they could not.”

“Notre petite étoile is right.”

You don’t need to turn to see who’s just stepping into the room; the little nickname is enough to tell you who it is since there’s only one man in the house who speaks French and calls you by that name. Hongjoong looks up though, arms squeezing around your waist as he looks to where Seonghwa stands at the edge of the room.

“Are you two ganging up on me?” Hongjoong grumbles. You and Seonghwa merely laugh in response, the latter man coming closer to the desk. He pauses at the edge to glance down at Hongjoong’s mug of tea and wordlessly traces small patterns against the side of the mug. Before you know it, small wisps of steam curl into the air above the liquid, and Seonghwa has once again heated the tea. The smile he wears signals that it’s something he’s done time and time again tonight, but he doesn’t make it seem like a chore or a burden at all, hand reaching out to comb through Hongjoong’s dark hair. Hongjoong sighs into the touch. There’s a gentle silence that drapes over the room next – one that Hongjoong relaxes under with your scent and Seonghwa’s intermingling under his nose.

Seonghwa doesn’t stop his rhythmic motions until Hongjoong’s shoulders have dropped all the tension stored in them, then he moves around the back of his chair and leans over it. You aren’t quite sure what he’s up to until two fingers curl under your chin and lift your head to greet his.

“My little star,” he murmurs before dipping closer to press a soft kiss against your lips. “One for you, and—” Seonghwa pulls back to glance down at Hongjoong, finding expectant and wide eyes blinking back up at him, then he parts Hongjoong’s bangs and places a second kiss to the exposed skin of his forehead “—one for you, my sweet starlight. The sun will rise soon, along with our darling sunrise to do the yard work. You two ought to get some rest before the chaos begins.”

“I should get home so I can prep the shop for morning opening,” you whisper, beginning to pull away from Hongjoong inch by inch. You half-expect Seonghwa to be the one to urge you to stay with pleading eyes and lingering touches that most definitely hold a bit of magic to them, but this time, he doesn’t say a word. Rather, it’s Hongjoong who tightens his hold on you and clings to you as though he might lose you if he dares to let go. You don’t realize it right away – perhaps you’re too distracted by the haziness of the late hour or by Seonghwa’s presence in the room – but when Hongjoong’s hands move up to brush over your shoulder blades, there is a sudden sense of desperation in his touch. Seonghwa smiles from off to the side.

“I’ll tell the younger ones not to bother you too much. Sleep as much as you need to. Yeosang and I will take care of the shop, étoile.” Seonghwa turns on his heel and walks towards the door again, leaving you and Hongjoong to watch his retreating form in silence. Just before he disappears completely, however, he shifts to look at the two of you once more. “I could get used to such a vision in our home.”

“Hm?” You echo, confusion evident on both your features and in your tone.

“You being here often, Hongjoong distracted from work long enough to focus on something else, San sneaking up the stairs behind me and hiding outside the door while we talk.” Seonghwa cracks a smile and pushes the door wide open. A startled San pops out from behind the wood, broad shoulders curling inwards in his momentary shame, but Seonghwa doesn’t let that last long and brings a warm hand to the younger man’s waist. He doesn’t say anything else, slipping out of the room behind San’s form and leaving the familiar in his place.

“Come, come, darling.” Hongjoong motions for San to come further into the room as he nudges you up, and you quickly slip off the man’s lap to stand on your own feet again. The breath leaves your lungs in a huff as a pair of arms suddenly wraps around your body, squeezing you in a tight embrace. The lines of sinew and muscle could only belong to San though you never saw him move in the slightest. Still, his hold is warm and inviting, enough to easily pull you towards Hongjoong’s bed, one that’s large enough to accommodate more than simply two bodies.

“Missed you,” San mumbles into the crook of your neck. His cool breath tickles the hairs on your skin, sending rows of goosebumps over you, and San kisses them away as best he can. “Been too long since you stayed the night.”

“Hm, Hongjoong needed me tonight,” you sigh, watching said man adjust the books and papers on his desk. He leaves the lamp lit for the time being, but it’s evident that he’s preparing to join you and San in bed, and that’s enough of a welcome sight to cause some of your worry to melt away. San sits up all of a sudden, tossing the sheets back to slip under them, although you don’t join him in doing so quite yet.

“His emotions have been volatile all day,” San says under his breath. The hush over the room is not nearly enough to conceal his tone though. Hongjoong most definitely can hear his words, but he neglects to mention it for the time being. “Couldn’t do anything to fix or help.”

San and Hongjoong share in a special type of relationship, one that is more interwoven and connected than most simply because of San’s identity as a familiar. Not just any familiar but Hongjoong’s familiar, just as Yeosang is Seonghwa’s familiar. It allowed the pair to share a deeper connection, sharing of emotional states – when one feels pain, the other does as well, just as with every emotion from happiness to rage. Hongjoong, however, prides himself on being able to cut off his emotions and keep them from affecting San too badly; so if San could sense the distress today, Hongjoong must be suffering a lot more than he’s letting on. Thus, it’s no surprise that San showed up when he did or that he’s here to stay the night with the two of you. The bond they share provides more than just physical comfort; the bond of a familiar and his master is one that bears great emotional weight and connection as well. It’s something you’ve been a bit insecure about when it comes to both men, along with Seonghwa and Yeosang, but they never let those doubts linger for long.

You’re halfway through taking off your second shoe when Hongjoong finally approaches the bed. He pauses before you, setting the chamberstick on the bedside table alight with a small flame, then he slips down to his knees. Deft fingers work the knots of your laces apart and push the shoe away from your foot. His touch is too warm to be normal, and you only realize what he’s up to when a sudden wave of drowsiness overwhelms you. Hongjoong’s soft touch is the only thing that keeps you awake as he works his way up, pressing a trail of ghosting kisses up the inside of your calf and stopping at your knee. You can hardly keep your eyes parted but manage to see – or at least feel – Hongjoong crawl over you to get onto the bed and slip between your body and San’s.

“No fair,” you murmur, words slurring together a bit. Hongjoong huffs out a laugh before leaning over you to puff the candle out. Small billows of smoke fill the air around your heads, along with a pleasant scent of lavender.

“Forgive me for wanting my star to get some rest,” he chuckles as he settles back against the mattress.

“That’s Seonghwa’s line.”

“Yes, well, Seonghwa isn’t here to say it, is he?”

“I’m telling.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes – a gesture you can barely make out through the darkness – then he leans forward to peck the tip of your nose.

“Childish.”

“Seonghwa doesn’t like it when people steal his nicknames.”

“Oh hush, you little brat. You’re worse than Wooyoung.”

“That’s more like it. Our dearest affectionate Joongie,” San laughs from behind Hongjoong, chin coming to rest on the length of the other man’s shoulder. His lips stretch into a grin, dimples flashing through the darkness, and you smile back at him softly. A hand touches your waist, and you almost think it’s Hongjoong but San grumbles something about you being too far away to cuddle properly and you know it’s him instead. You hum at the touch and settle into the warmth it provides. You nearly fall asleep right then and there, but you force your body to stay awake just a little while longer so you can press one last kiss to Hongjoong’s lips, then another to San’s.

“Okay, goodnight, my loves. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer thanks to Hongjoong.” You press closer to both men, wrapping yourself in the combined warmth of your lovers’ arms and the sheets, and Hongjoong tucks your head against his chest. His chin comes to rest on the top of your head. You’re already drifting off when you hear San’s next whispered words, ones meant only for Hongjoong’s ears but ones you hear nonetheless.

“I have a surprise for you tomorrow.”

“Hm? Is that your way of telling me to clear my schedule?” Hongjoong murmurs. The words send soft vibrations across your hair, and you instinctively tuck yourself further into his chest.

“Well, your schedule should be empty at night unless one of the others would be having you… preoccupied at that time.”

“As if you don’t intend to have me in that way yourself.”

“Only after the surprise,” San whispers, tone slightly offended, but you can also hear the affection in his tone.

“Then I’m all yours tomorrow evening.”

“Perfect.”

Those are the last words you hear out of either man; both fall silent after that and leave you with the soft heavings of their breaths above you, warm arms clinging to you as you drift off into a pleasant and peaceful rest. And as much as you protest the idea of intruding and living here with them, you have to admit that these moments make it worth it in the long run. The little things – the kisses and hugs, the sudden intrusions from your other lovers, the piling warmth, lingering gazes, soft smiles, quiet shared whispers. Perhaps you could get used to nights like these.

...

a/n: just another lil addition to the witchteez universe, i plan of having a drabble for each member then doing drabble requests after? i think? let me know if that’s something you want to see or if you have any ideas for the other members’ drabbles! i haven’t come up with anything yet so im quite open to suggestions!