#cupid’s weird flicks

[sigmasemen]

“NOT LIKE THAT.”

sae itoshi x reader

— tags: NSFW, slowburn smut, very short one shot, grinding, first time, established relationship, gender neutral!reader, sub!reader, dom!sae.

— taglist: n/a currently.

— characters: sae itoshi, reader.

— word count: 909.

— extra notes: this is a repost from my thread from here, but i still haven’t written a part two. definitely not as fancy since it was originally a twitter thread.

sae never considered himself a sexual person. of course, he had urges like any other person would. that was human. but anytime a person on his team would loudly talk about how they had a fling for the night, sae would tighten his expression before looking away.

so having a partner wasn’t much different at first. romantically and schedule wise, yes. but they hadn’t gone any farther than a few longer kisses on the couch by the 3 month mark. 

if you cut open sae’s skull and checked into his mind to see the reason, you would find the fleshy mush of his brain. romantically though, you would see an almost awkward romantic feeling. not feeling like you’re good at anything (beyond soccer) included sex.

so… could he pleasure someone else? 

that thought was small. he wasn’t thinking about it every waking second. not knowingly at least. so when he was resting on the couch after a long day of practice, being hit with the noise of water hitting the floor didn’t trigger that.

the only physical response he had to that was shifting.

the only verbal response he had to that was a hum.

the only mental response he had to that was a clear image of his partner’s body. and with a delayed response, his body shot up and his hands gripped the couch. 

sae crossed his legs (for undisclosed reasons) and tapped his arm rapidly. fuck him and fuck everything. 

was he supposed to sit and deal with it? handle it on his own? ask them about it?

all were way too embarrassing. it almost felt like it would be better to crumble on the couch and ignore it.

still, the image persisted. it grew more clear and even turned into a scene. sae couldn’t sit here and wait. he forced himself up and into the bathroom, opening the door slowly and closing his eyes as he walked in. 

“can i come in?”

“…you’re already in?” a soft laugh from his partner. it was making that image beckon him. “did you need something?”

should he try to fire off an excuse? “can i join you?” he might as well do what came naturally to him, plainness.

“oh.” there was a bit of stuttering that came out, then a nervous laugh, “yeah! uh, come right ahead.” 

sae pried his eyes open at that. the fog on the glass made it impossible to make out anything beyond a silhouette of them. it only urge him to strip himself at a quickened pace. a pace that got him in the shower within a minute.

it was worth it to force himself up because he couldn’t stop staring. not just at their chest or ass, everywhere. he wished in that moment to have photographic memory. he’d just have to settle for memorizing their body with his hands.

a hand reached out to their hips, dragging them closer. his chest pressed against their back and his eyes stuck to their neck. it was impossible to look at them directly.

“sae..?”

“you look nice.” 

“just nice?”

“i—” he let out something that was a mix of a weak laugh and a shaky sigh. “stunning. beautiful. i like seeing you like this.”

“i could say the same. i haven’t… we haven’t seen each other like this. i know we’ve seen each other topless but…”

“this is more intimate.” 

another moment of quiet. sae didn’t know how to continue with them. he had to try at least. push out that worry of not being able to satisfy.

his hand grasped their hip, then slowly moved up towards their chest. with no clue what to do, he squeezed. a gentle one, only enough to elicit a yelp. his eyes stuck on their expression. he didn’t even notice himself move closer when he squeezed again. 

“trace your finger sae, please.”

sae didn’t need to be told twice. his finger delicately traced around their nipple. the pants only grew louder. they bent forward to hold themself up against the wall. sae couldn’t help but kiss the liquid draining down their back. he also couldn’t help his finger inching closer to rub their nipples in circular motions.

“more, more…” the motions grew faster. their noises only became more clear. weaker. he couldn’t stop himself. sae moved his spare arm around them. his dick pressed right against their back. 

“i love your body,” it was stated as a fact, “i wish i could say it more. i think you deserve more than just a few kisses.”

“then give me more.”

“…maybe when we’re out of the shower.”

“you’re gonna get me to come from only stimulation on my chest?” they laughed, “i need you sae. i need—”

sae pulled them into a kiss. not a particularly good one, but the desperation of how firm he was pressing was enough to make up for that. the weak noises from both sides was enough to drive them both crazy. he needed them in every way, they needed him in every way.

they were the first to pull away. breathless with sore lips. “i want more. i need more.” 

“can we move this to the bedroom instead?”

“we’d have to dry off after this.”

“i can change the sheets after. can you let me enjoy more of you?”

“as long as you let me enjoy more of you.”

and for the first time in a long time, sae said the word, “please.”

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico wakes up with a mouthful of hair.

“Are you serious.”

He sticks out his tongue, trying to get it out of his mouth without spitting on it, giving up after about four point three seconds of trying. He wriggles his arm out from where it’s pinned between his body and Will’s, flicking the last few strands off his tongue. For good measure, he kicks the first thing he can reach — his boyfriend’s thighs, go figure — in protest.

“Please, no,” Will mumbles tiredly, batting blindly under the cover until he slaps on big hand over Nico’s ankle, squeezing. “Please. I got in at three thirty last night. It’s barely seven. Please.”

Nico sighs, relaxing his muscles. Will presses a brief kiss to his shoulder in gratitude, face buried in his chest, sinking boneless into him.

“The whole knowing the time without a clock thing will never stop being weird,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to a freckled forehead. He rubs his hands over Will’s bare shoulders, digging his thumbs along the knotted muscles, and smiles as he groans, trying in vain to plaster somehow closer to Nico, practically melting into him. “Gracie keep you up all night?”

He shifts as he nods. “Harley, too. Poor things just want someone to hold their hair outta their face and rub their back, they’re so miserable.”

Nico hums in sympathy. It’s flu season — hitting the little kids, mostly. Will has been on his feet for days trying to mitigate symptoms, soothe aching bones and sore throats. There’s not too much he can do for the flu, but the kids are miserable and they trust him, so his presence is more of a cure and a comfort than anything.

“Kayla there now?”

“Austin and Lou. Kayla’s on after lunch; Piper’s with her.”

“Good.” He squeezes his shoulders again, leaning down to press a long, lingering kiss right between his eyes. He leans into it, sighing. “Sleep for a bit, okay? I’ll come check on you, but I don’t want you up before 2.”

“‘Kay,” Will sighs, unconscious again by the time Nico’s wiggled out of his hold. For a moment he stands, watching him: his bare, broad back, spattered with dark freckles and moles, dipping at the base of his spine and covered barely by the soft, white sheets; arms curled up all the way around his face in Nico’s absence, bicep squeezing his cheek, pursing his delicate Cupid’s bow; long, light eyelashes fanning over round cheeks; even, steady breathing, in and out, in and out.

Golden hair, of course, frizzy and messy and poofing out around his head; haloed in the early morning sun.

He’s barely able to tear himself away to go shower.

———

“They’re everywhere,” says Kayla in disgust, peeling a long, curly strand off her shirt. “I haven’t been in the same room as him in two days. This is a brand-new shirt. How am I still somehow covered in his hair?”

“He’s like a dog,” Austin explains. Nico snorts. “He sheds, and at first it’s subtle, here and there, you get used to it. The suddenly two years go by and people are complimenting the fur coat that was not fur before you bought it.”

Gracie sticks out her bottom lip, eyes watering. “Will is not a dog, he’s a boy!”

Austin groans, muttering something about favourites and annoying older brothers and where was this energy when I ate the last secret cabin twinkie and was accused of being a ratbag, huh, Gracie, where was my defense squad and annoying older brothers again. Gracie is unmoved by his whining, glaring at him with big green eyes — ever her oldest brother’s defender.

Nico hides a smile in his hand. No wonder, with how Will dotes on her. On all his siblings, really, but only Yan and Gracie are young enough that it doesn’t embarrass them.

Kayla and Austin, on the other hand. (At this point, Will enjoys embarrassing them in front of their friends as much as the actual doting.)

Kayla, weak to her sister’s pouting, pokes her playfully in the side. “I’m only teasing, Gracie-girl. Of course Will isn’t a dog.”

“Except the shedding, and the constant yapping, and the fact that if you don’t let him loose to run around for a while he goes batty, and of course the following Nico around like a lovesick pup—”

“Thank you, Austin,” Nico interrupts, clearing his throat. He sends a quick prayer of thanks to his father for hair genetics covering his flaming ears.

Austin snickers. “Anytime.”

After three years it’s futile, but sometimes Nico really considers rescinding his doctor’s note. Is sitting here during meals really worth his peace? Is it?

“He really does shed, though,” Kayla says after a moment of silence. She pinched yet another hair off her shirt, sighing. “Like, not to agree with Austin or anything —”

“Hey!”

“— but, like, damn. If he’s been there, you know it.”

Nico snorts. “Tell me about it. I keep finding hair on my pillows, it’s driving me insane.”

It does drive him insane. He finds it in the shower — although to his credit Will really does try to get them all there — and in his hairbrush, on his clothes, his sheets, his mattress. The floor. Once, notably, on the shrine in his cabin, after which Will had panicked and sprinted to the pavilion to scrape an entire pot roast and pray not to get smited, leaving Nico to laugh himself to tears at the base of it.

Too late, he notices the total silence at the Apollo table, the wide eyes boring holes into his head, the loose, dropped jaws.

“What?” he says, shoulders curled defensively.

As soon as the word leaves his mouth, realization dawns on him. He chokes on a grape.

“You two didn’t tell us?” Austin demands. “How long has this —” he gestures vaguely at Nico and at the infirmary, which, he assumes, is meant to represent Will — “been going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he wheezes. With his rapidly asphyxiating brain, he attempts to summon his boyfriend, still conked out, via sheer force of will. GET THE HELL UP AND COME RUN DAMAGE CONTROL, he screams silently.

Predictably, this does nothing.

Kayla shrieks. “Oh my gods, look at his face! They’ve been doing this forever!”

Nico bangs his hands on the table, trying at once to convey his protest and also hi, hello, children of the god of medicine, I am choking to death, fix please. Neither signal gets picked up, inhabitants of the table erupting an a screeching series of questions so loud that other campers notice, understand, and approach, equally as screechy.

“Will and Nico are together?”

“Holy shit! Since when?”

“I thought they’d never get out of the pining stage!”

“Don’t they hate each other?”

“Bro, are you stupid? Do you not know what bad flirting is?”

“Hey, is di Angelo turning purple, or is that just me?”

Throwing himself into the nearest shadow, Nico disappears.

———

“Get up, get up, I fucked up, I fucked up!”

Will shoots straight upright with a gasp, force of his own body sending him careening right over the side of the bed. He goes down in a tangled heap of cursing and yelping and ow, fuck, shit-damns.

“What happened?” he demands as soon as he’s free from his fabric prison. He rushes (stumbles) over to wear Nico is still wheezing, hands braced on his knees, for dizziness now as much as to catch his breath. “Neeks, woah, slow down for a sec. Deep breaths with me.”

He tries to follow along to Will’s exaggerated breathing, steady, long inhales and exhales. A calloused hand touches the curve of his neck, warmth blooming under it, and suddenly his airways are cleared.

“Thanks,” he manages hoarsely, breathing back somewhat under control.

Will squeezes his hand. “No problem.”

There are several pillow creases criss-crossing on his cheeks, making him look soft and sleepy, although his eyes are alert, crinkled in poorly-concealed amusement. His hair is somehow more mussed than when Nico left him this morning.

“What happened?”

“So I. Um.” Nico clears his throat. “Your bother was roasting you for shedding like a dog. I, of course, had to join —”

Will rolls his eyes, mouth twitching. “Of course.”

“— and I mentioned super casually that I get your hair all over my shit, right? And, well — well.”

“Well?” Will prods, when Nico cuts himself off. Chancing a glance, Nico finds he doesn’t look angry, or nervous, or disappointed — and of course he wouldn’t. Not for something as silly as this.

He is gonna laugh, though. Nico hates when he’s righteously clowned.

“Well, I.” He lowers his voice to a mumble. “May have said something about all of your hair that ends up on my pillows.”

For a moment it’s silent. Nico keeps his eyes trained away, although he leans into Will’s touch, his hands in his face, the side of his neck, the warmth thrown off his sleep-addled body.

He’s almost startled by the giggle.

Almost.

“…Oh, you dumbass.”

He tries very hard to look annoyed as Will cracks up. He taps his foot, crosses his arms, and tries very, very hard to frown, but Will’s laugh has always been the most musical thing about him, and he loves to serenade. And Nico is very weak to song.

“Stop laughing at me,” he snaps, without heat.

Will’s cheeks puff up from the force of him trying, face going red around the edges.

“I’m trying, Neeks, I am —”

“Not very hard.”

“I am, I am.” Valiantly, he draws in a deep breath, only breaking into giggles twice before managing to hold a somewhat straight face. “Nico,” he says, suddenly very close and very warm, “I love you.” He presses a kiss to his forehead. “And I love sneaking around with you —” the bridge of his nose — “and making out in dark closets —” his cheeks, both, quickly, one after the other — “and behind the Big House —” the base of his jaw — “and in the —”

“I get it,” Nico interrupts, flushing. He can feel the curve of Will’s smile against his skin.

“My cabin, if it’s empty,” Will murmurs, kissing the underside of his jaw, his neck. “Yours.” Slight nip of his teeth. Nico gasps.

“Will,” he whispers. His knees start to shake. “Will, c’mon, we gotta —”

Will presses a kiss square to his Adam’s apple, lingering. “We’re in yours quite a lot. I’ve gotten used to it, honestly, Neeks, I —”

The door bangs open, making both of them yelp. The matching screeches to not help the general air of panic and sitcom level foolishness.

“Oh my gods, you really are porking!”

“Get out, Kayla!” they both yell together.

“Jesus,” Will curses, forehead resting on Nico’s shoulder.

Nico bites his lip. Will shifts, turning to meet his eye.

They last two whole seconds before losing it.

“Three years of sneaking around without so much as a soul finding out,” Nico huffs as Will snickers. “Three whole years.”

Will pecks him loudly and exaggeratedly on the cheek. “And endless more in the open.”

“You’re such a goddamn cheeseball.”

“And yet you’re in deep, deep love with me.”

“…I am.” He cradles his face, pressing a kiss, finally, to his lips. Will presses back, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[average-kitty]

The Angel’s Demon 💋

p2!!

You let go of the kiss and looked to her, a wide smile on both of your faces “Is that what you were looking for?”

warnings: smut at the end

word count: 3.3k

Summary: You stumble onto Jenna, Giving her a great time as a apology for your behavior to her

————————————————————————

Jenna watched as you sat on the small ledge that overlooked the city, the sun was soft yet radiant with its warmth as you turned to look at her- giving a small smile. Jenna felt her cheeks deepen in a redder tint as you got up from the ledge and walked over to her, your tail softly swaying as you met her eyes at stopped about a foot in front of her. You gently took her hands in her own as her eyes widened as they flicked up to yours, you were still smiling at her… Jenna slowly pulled you closer and hugged you tightly, her face buried in the crook of your neck her wings wrapping around you.

Suddenly she was pulled back and out of the  fantasy, a cold silence filling her mind as she jolted up- slight panic in her breathes as she looked around the room. She had been sent back down on a mission, to protect a certain soul- which allowed her to enjoy the freedom of getting herself a hotel room to sleep in, sure she could just go back to Heaven but- something about the beds human’s used to sleep in was comforting, a safe place for anybody who just wanted to sleep or do anything else that was relaxing- albeit even the weird things. She sighed sleepy as she flopped back down on the bed, her wings hanging off the bed as the feathers from them flew off the mattress, one falling onto her face as she blew it off.

How could someone she was supposed to hate and despise be so good at making her want more of them? It was so unfair and frustrating…! Jenna Groaned and threw a pillow at the wall, pouting furiously as she glared at the poor wall- she then flipped onto her side letting out a soft sigh, eyes softening at the thought of you. She covered her face with her hands as she squirmed about, she didn’t understand it at all- was this some cruel joke played by Cupid?!- She had to just ignore it now, there was no way it would work out at all in the future, she would just have to learn to stop falling face first into your tempting flirts and grow a spine of her own.

———————————————————————

You had just got thrown out of the local bar of the city, the bar owner yelling at a few locals as you were thrown out- hitting your head on the cold pavement as you groaned. 

“AND STAY OUT!” One man hissed as you glared at him, standing up and dusting yourself off as you then flipped him off and muttered to yourself under your breath. You walked off still pretty pissed off, usually you could easily beat a mortal but for some reason you had gotten ganged up on so you- ehem… let them win… As you continued to walk down the street your tail flicked side to side angrily, you let out a deep sigh as you stopped in front of a small store. Looking inside there was a younger woman who was quite beautiful, you stared at her for a few moments before snickering to yourself softly and walking inside. The woman looked up and offered you small smile, you returned the smile before walking over the register she was at and leaned onto the counter. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing working my here so late?” You snickered as the woman giggled softly “Trying to make enough money to feed and cloth myself.” She replied, you have a genuine smile as you chuckle softly. 

After a few minutes of back and forth you walked back out, tail and horns gone as you had of course- possessed her, you weren’t gonna let the opportunity pass you up. You looked through her pockets and found a small key possibly to the shop, you paused for a moment before turning and locking the door behind you- sure you were a demon but you weren’t that evil… You had probably spent all the money that girl had available to her as you continued your midnight mischief, then a familiar face stared at you as you walked down the street, Jenna. You rolled your eyes with a smirk as she approached you with a small cocky grin of her own “Say- do I know you? You seem really familiar.” She cooed out as her wings twitched. You put a finger to your chin, pondering the question “I don’t think so…” you replied slyly, Jenna raised a brow at you as you try to keep yourself from laughing. “Come on let the girl go.” She finally said as you groaned, releasing the poor woman from your possession as she fell to the floor. She softly panted as she looked up to both you and Jenna, You leaning down to look at her.  

A angel and a demon- looking at both of you… the panic this girl felt as she quickly stood up and ran off, your eyes following her as your tail curled. “What’s up with her?” You snort as you looked over to Jenna with a small toothy grin, Jenna returning it with a smile of her own as you cross your arms at her. “Am I in trouble oh powerful one?” You snicker as Jenna softly chuckled “Not this time don’t worry, just had to make sure you didn’t kill another person for the what- 15th time this month?” You gave a sheepish grin as you shrugged “Who’s to say…?” Jenna gave a roll of her eyes as she giggled “Whatever…” She began to walk off which honestly surprised you, you waited a few moments before quickly following after her “Wait wait wait-“ 

Jenna turned to look at you as her wings ruffled a bit in anticipation as you slowed your pace and met her side “where are you going? Don’t we usually like- do the back and forth…?-“ you asked in a bit of a embarrassed tone, you weren’t completely sure why you were being so- concerned with why she was leaving, usually you didn’t get two shits… “I didn’t know if you were up to it.” Jenna shrugged with a small smirk before giggling “What? You wanna be around me?-“ “Hey- what?” You were puzzled in her sudden boost of confidence, but then it made sense- she was attempting to toy with you the way you did. You gave a light chuckle as you slowly began walking as you made your way behind her, your fingers likely trailing her neck “Maybe I do…. Maybe I’m just starving for you…” you whisper with a giggle- those few words made all of that confidence Jenna had built up disappear in a instant as her wings unconsciously fluttered from the sensation of your fingers, making you chuckle. “Cat got your tongue?” You tease as Jenna’s face turns red with embarrassment, turning her head away from your hand, which you respectfully allow.

Your Tail flicked as you tilted your head to her, snickering softly. Jenna crossed her arms as you yawned and stretched out, shaking your head as you looked over to her “So- what are you doing here? Protecting a soul from me and my friends?” You scoff playfully “Actually I am, I don’t need you possibly interfering.” You roll your eyes at her as you smile and shake your head “you think so lowly of me, I’d never do that to you…” you coo slyly with a cheeky smile, Jenna’s cheeks warming a bit at the sight.

You both walk for a little bit before you meet the entrance of her hotel she had been staying in “Okay- this is the only time I’ll let you possess someone so they don’t ask why you have horns and a tail-“ Jenna suddenly spoke up.

“Oh the Angel is allowing me to do mischief! My god are you turning against the Heavens?!” Jenna covered your mouth with her hand suddenly with caught you off guard, causing you to look up at her eyes “I’m not letting you do it because you’re getting to cause problems, I’m doing it because they can’t see my wings and halo- but, they can see your- features…” you gave a unamused look as you roll your eyes and push her hand off your mouth “okay okay…” You look around and see a small black figure moving in the alleyway right next to the hotel, you lean your body to the side to look over and see what it was- a small black cat. Almost instantly you took possession of the cat, trotting up to Jenna as you sit by her feet “Is this acceptable Miss?” You purr out, Jenna trying to hold back her laughter as she nodded, then picking you up- which you hesitantly allow. She walked into the Hotel lobby and up to the front desk “Just checking back in.” She softly told the man at the counter, him giving a nod as he looked at you “We don’t allow pets-“ “oh they’re my emotional support cat…if that’s a- thing…” You gave a fake meow and climbed onto Jenna’s shoulder, kneading at it as you curled up and snuggled into the crook of her neck.

The man nodded even though he didn’t seem the slightest bit convinced and motioned towards the elevators, Jenna thanked the man as she made her way to the elevator and pushed the button, waiting a moment as it opened and walked inside- pressing the top floor. Once the door closed you hopped off her shoulder “What was that for?!” She barked out as your head flicked up to look at her, the little ears on your feline’s head pinning back “Making it believable?” “You can’t just do that out of no where!-“ “why not?” Jenna opened her mouth to speak but stopped her self, her mouth agape for a moment before she shut it. She couldn’t tell you what she really felt about you, you’d make fun of her- it’d ruin the mutual respect you had for each other, or at least the respect she thinks the two of you had. The rest of the elevator ride was filled with a looming silence, the ding of the elevator reaching the top floor scared you and Jenna both, the doors opened and you followed Jenna to her Hotel room.

She unlocked the door as you squeezed through the door, hopping onto the bed as you unpossessed the cat, the feline letting out a soft meow as it crawled into your lap. Jenna softly smiled as she let her wings and halo been visible again, looking over at you as she grabbed herself a complimentary water from the mini fridge in the room.

“So- Why did you tag along?” Jenna asked out of the blue, making you look up from the cat on your lap “Oh-“ you weren’t really sure to be honest, you weren’t sure why you followed her. “You know- just to figure out what an Angel does in her free time, normal Demon stuff.” You shrugged with a sarcastic tone filling your voice as you flop back on the bed the cat meowing again as it hopped off the bed and walked over to Jenna, and hopped onto the counter she was next to. “Uh huh…” Jenna rolls her eyes at you with a small smile then looks over to the cat who was getting a bit close, the only reason why she had allowed the cat on her in the first place was because it was you- but now? She was kind of scared of it…

She was more of a dog person anyways- as she backed away from the cat it kept following her, meowing constantly before Jenna tripped over her own foot- falling onto the bed- well more so, on you. You and Jenna laid there in an awkward silence for a moment or two as Jenna’s face heated up drastically as you on the other hand were just- incredibly flustered and baffled by this. “Uh- are you… comfortable?-“ you awkwardly chuckle as you pushed Jenna’s wing out of your face, “sorry- I didn’t mean to crush you-“ “oh you will never crush me, your waaaaaay to small for that.” Jenna turned herself over as she still laid on top of you and glared at you “I’m not small!- I’m only 5’1-“ She muttered as you burst out laughing “Stop it’s not even funny!-“ She Barked as you continued laughing, your tail moving in a somewhat awkward version of a wag. You finally calmed down, still giggling a few moments at a time “Jenna- 5’1 is as short as you little Angels come-“ you snorted as her face turned red, a small smile spreading across your face as a result. 

Your hand gently began picking at Jenna’s wings as you both laid in a comfortable position, neither of you bothered to move or make those awkward as you continued to preen at her feathers. “You know- this is pretty nice, not having to worry about the- ‘rules’…” You softly mumbled as Jenna lifted her head from your chest “I guess-“ she replied as she let out a soft sigh, seeming to prepare herself for something- “Y/N…?-“ You give a small hum in response as you met her eyes with your own “Do you think… it’s weird for Demon’s and Angels to be in love…? Like it’s that a normal thing?…” You thought about her question for a bit, pondering it. “It’s not something that’s normal but there’s no rules against it in the underworld- but Angels that do fall in love with demons usually turn into Fallen Angels.” You lightly shrug as you continued to preen her wings. Jenna sighed softly as she laid her head back down on your chest,   It was comforting…Nice…Quiet…Warm…

Jenna had two options, just let this be a normal “Just friends but cuddling and stuff” or a proper- relationship… You look up to her with a bit of confusion “You okay Jenna?” Jenna perked up and sighed before pulling her hands up to your cheeks and gently grabbing them, you looked at her with confusion before it all disappeared within seconds.

Jenna kissed you on your lips with passion, her lips were tender and soft in nature but they held so much meaning in those few moments, you felt yourself almost instantly leaning into the kiss as your arms wrapped around her neck pulling her closer. Your tail curled as Jenna’s Wings opened up a bit in relaxation before cupping around the both of you, it felt as if time had stopped for the two of you, the loving nature of Jenna’s lips being pressed against yours made your heart soften almost as much as it grew for her. Air didn’t matter to either of you as the kiss continued for a little bit before Jenna pulled away from it before she had made herself pass out, both of you panting. “Is that why you asked me about Demon and Angel lovers?” You snickered as Jenna rolled her eyes with a smile “maybe…” before you could even respond she kissed you again, you, happily returning the favor. This continued for a little bit longer as the kisses got more intense, both of your bodies pressed up against each other, Your nails gently clawing into Jenna’s shoulders sparking small whimpers from her. 

You giggled at her as you then flipped her onto her back, She didn’t complain or even dare pull away from the kiss, this is what she had been wanting for so long… “You know, we’re kinda doing that thing that humans do.” You chuckle as you pulled away from the kiss, Jenna looked up to you with a confused smile “Doing what thing?” “What do they call it?- hooking up?” Jenna gave a mix of a giggle and a hum as you leaned back down and kissed her, meeting the same level of passion she had given you. Jenna was giggling to herself as she continued to kiss you, unable to control herself from giggling. “Can we do anything more than just kissing…please..?” She whispered between kisses and giggles that the two of you shared as you look to her eyes “I suppose, but promise me your not gonna freak out and push me away or anything-“ Jenna nodded her head as you then moved her shorts and underwear slightly to the side, sure she was a Angel but that didn’t mean she wear human clothing, you included.

Jenna let out a soft groan as your finger gently pressed up against her entrance she was a bit wet already, causing a soft giggle to erupt from you as you placed a soft kiss on her cheek before your finger gently crawled up to her clit then back down to her entrance before slowly pushing inside, a soft whine spewing from the angel’s lips as you gave a cocky smirk to her. “God whats got you so tight?” You teased as Jenna gave a small pout, before smirking “Waiting for you to make the first move, but obviously I had to do that…” she snickered as you roll your eyes at her “I could always stop-“ “no!- okay fine sorry, I won’t be a bitch-“ you mumbled as you chuckle, leaning her head forward as you place a soft kiss on her lips “that’d be nice, and a first.” Jenna was about to snap back at you before she felt the strap on you had someone managed to slip on without ever even knowing push against her walls, a deep needy moan was heard from her as you leaned forward and on top of her, pushing in as far as you could at the moment.

Jenna whined at the pleasure as you laid on top of her, her walls aching from having to be forced into relaxation. “don’t just- lay here… please-“ Jenna whimpered “anything the little Angel wants…” you whisper as you then lean back a bit and began to give her gentle thrusts as she groaned softly, still not satisfied with the current pace as her hips bucked forward in a bit of neediness and frustration as you raise a brow at her before giving more forceful thrusts as another moan escaped from her, throwing her head back into the mattress as she bit at her lip. You continued for a few minutes before leaning down at softly biting at her neck, adding to that already overwhelming pleasure Jenna was feeling. Her wings twitched softly as she tried to keep herself quiet and disturbing anyone else on the floor, albeit she already was being pretty loud- “fuck…” she softly whimpered as you began to thrust deeper and rougher, small tears forming in her eyes from the amount of pleasure and happiness she was feeling- her hips seemed to buckle as you stopped biting her neck, leaving trails of hickeys on her skin as she came closer and closer to her orgasm. You pulled her into a deep kiss as she finally let out a loud and long moan as you fucked her through her orgasm, hips slowing gradually before coming to a stop.

You let go of the kiss and looked to her, a wide smile on both of your faces “Is that what you were looking for?” You giggle, Jenna laughs and shoves your shoulder “oh stop!-“ as you both laid there comfortably something seemed to change the energy of the room, the happiness and lust still filling the air but a faint hint of something wrong…

As the two of you joked around for the rest of what little of night you had left Jenna’s feathers seemed to slowly fall off…

One

By

One.

pssst tell me what u think here 👀

[pw-ps]

[ Original Interview | Web Archive Mirror ]

Patrick Stump: "Prince Sounds More Like Backstreet Boys Than He Does Pantera"

August 19, 2011 | 11:46am

Fall Out Boy's Patrick Stump and his silvery pipes have struck out on a solo venture while the band is on hiatus. So far, things have headed far to the left of his group's hit-laden catalog of pop-punk. If his vocal hooks on Gym Class Heroes' "Cupid's Chokehold," the Roots' "Birthday Girl," Murs' "Bummed Out Blues," and his Truant Wave EP from earlier this year didn't already find your ears, let the record show that this guy can get soulful in his spare time.

Amidst his current solo tour, which stops at Culture Room on Saturday, the loquacious Stump called County Grind to discuss myriad typics, including his forthcoming full-length Soul Punk and its influences, talking James Cameron flicks with Pete Wentz, and how the Fall Out Boy well "dried up for a little bit."

County Grind: What would you say is the state of R&B today and also what is your favorite era from the past?

Patrick Stump: Those are great questions. I love getting asked that. I think R&B right now is fractured into two schools. There's either the hip-hop-esque R&B, where pretty much it exists for the club or whatever, or there's like the throwback history kind of R&B, which really pays a lot of homage to specifically '60s and '70s really organic kind of R&B. There are a lot of other artists who are messing with it, but for the most part I feel like on a grand scale there's a lot of those two things when you say "R&B" to people. It frustrates me because I was always a fan of the '60s and '70s. That covers a lot of ground as well. That's a mouthful already. One thing that I kind of miss is that I do miss a lot of the post-funk stuff that had such a really interesting effect on, before it intertwines with hip-hop, there's a lot of interesting things that happened with Prince, with James Brown and his influence on and that echo chamber that happened and Sly Stone and where that plays into funk and soul, if I had to pick an era. Ultimately, Minneapolis is my favorite thing, I really have this historian love for it. When I pick up a guitar, it sounds like a Time record.

Especially "Everybody Wants Somebody" from Soul Punk, might I add. I noticed that Prince vibe as soon as I heard it. I'm actually from that area, too. Who else are these soul punks? Do you see Prince as a "soul punk" performer?

Oh yeah. Absolutely. I think Prince is a great example of it. In a lot of ways I always felt a really strong punk undercurrent in somebody like Curtis Mayfield. It's obviously very different music, but I thought "Nobody's serious and it makes me furious," that's a punk-rock lyric. Eugene McDaniels, it's really proggy and fusion-y, but it has some really serious punk-rock-isms. I think everything post-Prince is really fused. I look at it now and you know the modern generation want to look at Janelle Monae or J*Davey, or Bad Rabbits. There's a lot of these artists coming up now who have very much of their own accord, this weird kind of fusion-y  funk thing with a lot of punk energy.

All of these people you mentioned all have huge bands that they're commanding to do this and you've made this album by yourself. How hard is it to get all of that together if you're working on the project alone?

I think it's a little bit easier, actually, because I got to explain it all to the people. One of the hardest things was to, because obviously I come from more of the punk end of things, where I cut my teeth. So I still feel like I'm hopefully achieving the same ends. Getting there, there's a lot of resistance to it in punk rock.

There's a lot of "Oh, R&B is for Backstreet boys," or something like that. Which of course if you've never listened to any R&B, I guess it sounds like that if that's your only benchmark for R&B, you know. Prince sounds more like Backstreet Boys than he does Pantera, but you're still talking about wildly different music. I think it was a lot easier to do it and show it to people than it was to talk about it.

One thing that I was really cognizant of early on was that when i wasn't listening to punk rock, I wasn't listening to the same stuff as my punk rock friends. A lot of guys were treated to country music, they grew up on it. I have no base in country music. I really have no idea. I've never owned a country record, to be honest. It's not something I dislike, it's just that I don't know that stuff at all. I never had a Metallica poster on my wall, never had the Led Zeppelin poster, or the Nirvana poster. Those weren't really things that spoke to me. It's not something that I disliked, it just wasn't as strong an influence on me as the Time, or Michael Jackson. You say pop, but at the end of the day Michael Jackson was an R&B artist who got huge, especially the 1970's Jacksons stuff that's crazy. "Blame it on the Boogie" is a really groovy song. I love the history of R&B. I love taking it from Nat King Cole to Ray Charles, to Stevie Wonder and watching that influences keep going.

What about your Chicago hometown hero R. Kelly?

Yeah, R. Kelly is in there, it's just tough to really separate man from myth.

He's definitely influenced me a little bit, I think, as a singer. It's really hard to mess with him. Love him or hate him, he's definitely has a lasting impact on modern R&B. When you put on Trey Songz's record, you know where he's getting it. When I hear something in modern pop-R&B that I dig, I still latch onto it. There are some records that come out that I really feel. I like to look at the lineage of it.

"This City" is a good local jam in the tradition of many. Kanye did one about Chicago as well, which I'm sure you've heard. Are there any other city pride songs that you can get down with?

One of the things that I really wanted to do was, that I wanted it to be pride, but I wanted it to be conscious pride. So that was something that I really thought about, like Stevie Wonder, or Bill Withers' "Harlem."

It comes from love, but I think those two songs are a lot darker. In both cases I think those guys really loved their cities. I was thinking broad. I started writing it, I looked at it and thought, "this could be a song about Chicago, I could take this all the way and have it be a big Chicago song." I was like, "Chicago has songs. I love Chicago, but Chicago doesn't need another song. Chicago has a lot of songs."

This needs to be everybody's song. This needs to be about every city. It needs to be about every aspect of a city. I wanted to be subtle with it.

I don't think it's really aggressive in its politics, but I wanted to say that I love my city unconditionally, here are the conditions. Every city has some stuff that's wrong with it. I was looking at Detroit and New Orleans, because these are places where they've been ravaged by either economic or natural disasters. People have the audacity to say, "Oh, they should just move." No they can't move! It's their home, it's their soul. Motown, come on. New Orleans, come on. I didn't even think of that until this conversation, how vital it is to music, music history. And that's world music history, too; how important New Orleans has been to the world, so you want these people to move? That's not fair. So I wanted a song for that. i wanted a song because it can happen anywhere, any city in the world. Everything's fragile and we all love our cities. That's where i was really coming from for that.

These songs, obviously since you're not working with Fall Out Boy, are these the sorts of things you were thinking about you have a chance to get these topics off your chest now, it's your album?

Absolutely.

It's one of those things where I love Fall Out Boy and I love they way we communicated. I love the way our lyrics were, but if I'm gonna do a solo thing, I have to validate it in some way. I have to matter in a way that Fall Out Boy didn't. Because Fall Out Boy mattered in one way, I have to find some other thing, I have to find a way to say it that is different from Fall Out Boy, If at any point I'm touching on something that I could have or have said in Fall Out Boy, there's no reason to do it. That was something that I was really cognizant of. I think the record ends up being conscious. I try to be socially conscious and positive about it. Those were the two big things that I wanted to be. I think that's one of the things that always made me more R&B than punk. I'm just as angry as any other punk rocker ever, but I'm still something of an optimist. I want the world to be better. It's not just "Fuck you. Anarchy."

When was your last conversation with Pete Wentz?

A couple days ago. We were talking about James Cameron movies. I was saying that I never liked James Cameron movies, I didn't think he was any good. Then I saw Abyss. It was jaw-dropping. I said "This is a great movie, I'm an idiot." I can never unilaterally dismiss somebody.

That's probably not the most business-related conversation you guys have had.

Yeah, we stay in touch. We don't really talk a lot of business anymore. When it happened, it was like he'd send me lyrics and I'd send him music back.

One of these days he'll send me some lyrics and I'll write some music and send it back to him and that'll be it. I think that well just dried up for a little bit, or that he needs to inhale for a little bit before he can exhale. Pretty early on in the band I considered everything an essential component and it all starts with Pete writing some words. That's how our process starts. If we don't get words from him, we got nothing.

What is your favorite lyric so far that you've come up with? What's your moment that you're most proud of?

That's tough, because I try not to think of it that way. There's a lyric on a song called "Coast" where I say "Pointing out trivia nearly broke me with tragedy, so you need to put me back together." It's kind of wordy and it's not really that poignant, but it's nice to have some kind of catharsis for once. I was being the voice for someone else's for a long time and I don't really get to say these kind of things, so that was nice. That's a lyric that sticks with me. Or, "Depression's a little bit like happy hour, it's always gotta be happening somewhere on any given night." It's acknowledging that we all get, especially when you're younger, it's easy to dwell on these things, but as you get older and have actual real-life stuff happen to you, that's when you get to know man problems, adult problems. That makes you appreciate the good stuff a little bit more.

I think it's a nice balance. I think we also have your "pin-looking-for-a-grenade" moments too, that are fun, vivid images.

I love playing with imagery. I have to restrain myself sometimes because that's all i want to write about and then you look at the page and say "This is all imagery and no substance. This doesn't say anything. I'm not saying anything about any of the characters or any of the places, I'm just having a love affair with words" it's always a balancing act.

There's a b-side called "Saturday Night Again" and all of it is imagery. If you were to ask me what the song is about, I don't even really know. It's almost a character study. I wanted this record to have some statements and one thing that I really wanted to play with is I wanted to take pop-culture paradigms, big things that you've heard a bunch of times like "This City," or "The 'I' in Lie," all of these songs. There's a drinking song, it sounds like a party, drinking song. There's a song that's about cheating, like a traditional R&B song about cheating, but I really wanted to infuse them with a lot more subtext than that. I'm talking bout these things. I wrote a drinking song about alcoholism, you know? I wrote a cheating song about what that actually does and cheating on yourself more than romantically cheating. On this record, one thing that Fall Out Boy never really did was write entirely in metaphor. That's something that I'm doing more of with this.

[sweet-villain]

Three Or One's A Crowd~ S.H

Summary : You're dating Steve Harrington, but he's holding a secret out. He's a triplet and doesn't want you to know. What happens when you come over one day and meet them?

Mention of Kidnapping

Tags : : @ceriseheaven @josephquinnlover0 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @stillfalling30minslater @alyisdead @harringtons-cupid @livsters @ajeff855 @sunfairyy @rainbowfruity14 @

My Master List is in This Area

" Why don't you ever invite me over?" you asked plopping down next to Steve on your bed as you look over to him. Steve runs a hand down his face as he sighs. " There is stuff going on in the house that I don't want you to be involved in."

" What is the even mean?" He rolls his eyes making up as the conversation goes. " My parents have this thing in the house and people just going in and out. It's too busy. Just don't ask" he mutters.

He doesn't mean to lie to you but his reason is he doesn't want you to meet his brothers. He knows Kurt will never let you go out of his sight if he ever met you and Keys will start talking about all the technology and doesn't want you to be weird out.

" Fine" you pouted as you looked up at your ceiling. Steve turns to his side as his arm wraps around you. " I'm sorry, I know you want to come over and see the house. Maybe another time" he says. " Don't be mad" he brushes his nose against your cheeks.

You turn your head, breath hitches seeing how close he was as he leans closer placing his lips on yours. Your hand goes into his hair causing him to groan as you tug on it.

You squeal as hovers above you.

" I love you" Steve says.

" I love you too, Stevie" he rolls his eyes at the nickname. Your the only one that is allowed to call him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Steve walks into his house just as Kurt walks down the steps, almost knocking into Steve.

" Hey!" Steve stumbles back grabbing onto the door as he catches himself. " I need to borrow your keys" Kurt pleads. " Why don't you have your own car, Kurt?"

Kurt twirls back and forth on his heels as he shrugs, " Mom and dad think it's better if you drive me around." Last time Kurt had a car, he had a girl in the back of the car that he was supposingly driving her to where she needed to go. She was going to pay him but the police let him off with a warning as they found a drill in his car, she was unconscious in the back with water that wasn't really water.

" Kurt" Steve warns. Keys walk from the kitchen, pushing his glasses onto the bridge of his nose as he watches Kurt plead Steve for the car keys, rolling his eyes.

" The last time you drove a car, you had a poor girl in the back barely even alive. It's a good thing the police let you off with a warning. You can't cause trouble"

" But I need to go to the store" Kurt whines as he stomps his foot. Keys is munching on a pack of gummy worms as he says to Steve, " I'll take him."

He grabs the keys away from Steve before Steve can protest and those two were out the door.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

" Dingus! Are you home?" Robin stood as she rang the door bell. Steve's BMW was parked in the drive way but he hasn't been answering her calls. She hurried over to his house in a hurry thinking something has happened.

The door swings open and it's not Steve who answers the door, but someone that looks like him with glasses on his face.

" Um, hello?" she asks like she knows him but she doesn't. Keys leans against the door as he looks at Robin in a bit of surprise and shock.

" Can I help you?" He asks.

" Is Steve here?" He cautiously eyes her up and down. A hand appears on his back, " I've got this." It's Steve as he closes the door a bit leaving it a jar as he steps out to talk to Robin.

" Who was that?" she asks, pointing to the door. "Do you know him?"

" That's no one" Steve shakes his head. " Why are you here?" he crosses his arms over his chest. Robin looks at him weirdly as she brushes away the person she saw before like it was nothing.

" Okay" she flicked him in the forehead, " why aren't you answering your phone? I've called like a gazillion times" He rubbed his forehead while she talked.

" Because I was busy Robin" he says.

" What-" she was cut off when the door opened and there stood Kurt, looking between Steve and Robin.

" Oh who's this, Steve? Is this your girlfriend?" He asks, Robin takes in sight of him with her nose scrunching up. Didn't he know what a shower was? Did he know the definition of shampoo?

" Uh hi" Robin says. " I'm not this dingus girlfriend, far from it"

" I'm Kurt" he introduces himself when Steve pushes at his chest. " Go inside Kurt. I'll be there in a minute" Kurt is pouting as he waves to Robin as he walks inside.

" Who was that? How many people are in there? Why do they both look like you?"

" They are my brothers, I'm a triplet" Robin's eyes go wide. There was no way that Steve was a triplet and holding this far too long.

" Does Y/N know? Why haven't you told anyone else?" Steve sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. " Now is not a good time, Robin. I will explain everything later. I need to get back inside"

" You need to tell Y/N. You can't hide this from her"

" I will when the time comes, now please Robin" she sighs as she waves him by walking down his drive way and taking her bike as she rides away.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You've been trying to get a hold of your boyfriend all week and he has been making up some excuses that he's busy with the kids or something else came up. You catch Robin before she goes to work to find out anything from her.

" It's nothing too bad, you have to talk to him" She wasn't about to tell you about the triplets thing. She wanted you to find out on your own and this was a topic to talk to Steve about.

" Are you sure? He's not cheating on me?" you asked, worry written in your eyes. She shook her head, " If he was cheating on you than you'd already know. From me" she pats her chest as she makes her way down the steps.

The familiar BMW rolls around the corner and Steve curses to himself seeing on the sidewalk with Robin.

" Hey baby, what are you doing here?" he asks leaning through the window, already in his vest as he's ready for work.

" Came to see Robin about something, nice to see you too" he winced at the way your worded that. His heart sinks to his stomach and he knows he's doing this wrong and should tell you.

" Come by later, to the house" he says, surprising you and Robin. " We will talk."

" are you sure?" you asked.

" Yes, you'll see everything" Robin looks at him than at you seeing the worry wash off your face replaced with surprise. You casted her a look to make sure he told you what he said and she shrugged.

" I'll see you later, I love you" he blew you a kiss as he said he loves you too.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You stood on the front porch of his house debating if you should ring the door bell or not. The door swings open to reveal Steve, he's looking a bit worried as you entered his house.

" Jesus, this is massive and beautiful" Steve smirks.

" That's not the only thing that's massive" He mumbles making you gasp as you swat his chest. " Steve Harrington!" he laughs throwing his head back.

" Who's this?" you turn around hearing an unfamiliar voice. Your eyes grow wide seeing another look a like your boyfriend, only he had glasses on his face.

" Y/N, this is my brother Keys. Keys, this is my girlfriend Y/N"

" Keys?" you question not really getting the name.

" My name is Walter, but I go by Keys" you nod as you understood. A pair of hands land on your shoulders, scaring you as you turned around meeting a face that looks like your boyfriend too. This one had greasy hair, a wide smile on his face as he looks you over.

" She's so pretty, Steve. You really scored" Kurt says. You shift uncomfortable as you look at Steve for help.

" Kurt, leave Y/N alone. Y/N this is Kurt, my brother" your eyes got wide as you look at the three. " You three are triplets? Is this what you wanted me to not find out?"

Steve nodded as he sighed.

" I didn't want to scare you off"

" Steve" you made your way over to him but not before Kurt go in between the of you. " You're really pretty, my brother always gets the best once" he pouts. You wraps his arm around your shoulder while you shifted uncomfortably.

" Leave Y/N alone" Steve warned knowing the look on Kurts face already telling him some bad news. Kurt put his hands up as he stepped back but not before winking at you.

Kurt watches as Steve moves to stand next to you with his arm when his arm previously was. Something lingering his eyes as he frowns. Keys takes a look at Kurt seeing the look on his face before he makes his way over to him.

" You better not do anything, she seems like a nice girl and Steve loves her"

Kurt hums in response not paying attention as he's paying attention the way you giggled and pushed Steve's shoulder playfully. Why couldn't he find someone as pretty as you? He wanted what Steve has.

You.

₊✧──────✧₊∘

You have no idea what had happened but the next thing you knew you were waking up in a car as it was driving. You stared at the ceiling of the car, squinting your eyes feeling the car moving. Who was driving?

Last time you were watching a movie with Steve and fell asleep in his arms. You felt someone move you but you thought it was Steve putting you in his bed to sleep in.

You let out a groan as you sat up gripping your head.

" What is this?" you asked looking around when your eyes land on the person who's driving the car. It's Kurt.

" Kurt? Where are we going? Where are you taking me?" your hand reached out for the door handle but it didn't budge. Kurt has locked the doors. He looked at you through the review mirror with a wide grin spread on his face.

" Don't you worry" he turns around when he's at a stop sign. " You're safe with me" he says. You felt a really cold chill down your spine.

" Where we going?" you looked around to see if you knew the area he was taking you but you had no idea. You haven't been around much here.

" You're going to stay with me for a bit, we're going to hang out. You seem really cool girl and I just want to see what your all about, you know?"

" Kurt take me back to your house" Kurt shakes his head.

" Nope, can't do that" he says grinning through the review mirror. You sank back in your seat hoping that Steve would know that you were gone.

You didn't like this one bit.

" Please take me back" you gripped his seat with your fingers. His eyes grew wide a bit feeling you closeness as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

" I can't do that, relax. Have a water in the back, you're fine" he reaches into the back of the pockets for the water he's talking about and tosses to you. It falls into your lap and rolls to the ground.

₊✧──────✧₊∘

Steve's hands reaches out to grab onto you when he comes to find the coldness of the mattress where your body usually lays. His eyes snap open, blinking sleep raising his head to look around the darkness of his bedroom. He mumbles underneath his breathe softly saying your name to be met with nothingness. He sits up in his bed with the covers falling off of him and rubs on of his eyes with a balled up fist moving the covers off of him as his feet hit the floor.

He reaches with his hand turning the door knob, the door creaks open and his shoulder raises to hear if he awoken Kurt up or Keys. There was not a sound coming from anywhere. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Usually he would hear Kurt staying up all night in his room.

He steps into the hall, closing his door softly as he heads towards the kitchen where he knows he usually would find you. His feet padded on the ground as his hands searches for the light switch on the wall and he find it, the light makes his squint.

There was no one in sight at the kitchen, the only sound he heard was the little water dripping. He turns his head to peek into the living room and no one was there either. Where were you? He turns around ready to head back to his room when a body collides with him sending him stumbling back.

He rubs the little pain in his head from collision with someone. He looks around in the hallway to see it was his brother, Keys. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he looks toward Steve.

" Thought it was you" Keys muttered as he ran a hand through his hair.

" Have you seen Y/N?" Keys knitted his eyebrows together as he shook his head. The last time he saw you was the last interaction he had with you and that you were by Steve's side.

" I haven't, sorry" he says. Steve nods, biting his lips as he looks up at the ceiling wondering if Kurt was sleeping or you were in Kurt's room and he was scaring you. " Do you think Kurt is with her?" Key asked, there was a feeling in Steve's stomach as he looked towards his brother.

" I have a feeling they might be together" The two headed back down the hall towards Kurt's room. Keys opened the door and turning on the light. Kurt's bed was a bit messy with the covers pulled back and he was no where in sight. Neither were you.

" He's not here" Steve says. Keys turns to look at him giving him thank you for that information look on his face. Steve shrugged as he ran a hand through his hair.

" Maybe they took a walk" Keys offered like it wasn't the right answer, but an answer. " Kurt doesn't like walks" Steve says.

" Where are you keys, Steve?" Steve eyes got wide as he rushed back into his room with Keys following him and fumble with his pants looking for the pocket where he usually puts his keys in.

He comes up empty. The two look at each other with panic.

₊✧──────✧₊∘

You groaned as your head rolls back and your vision comes in clear view of a ceiling that was unknown to you. You turned your head to see someone standing by a fire place poking at something. Your little noises has alert him as he turned around. Kurt.

" You're awake, sunshine" he beams making his way over to you and sitting on the edge of the bed. Your eyes grew wide in panic scooting away from him on the bed with fear in your eyes. Kurt pouted at the sight of the fear.

" No need to be afraid, I just want to get to know you and be your friend Y/N' he reaches with his hand but you scoots back some more, away from him.

" Please ta-ake m-me home" you shake, nibbling on the inside of your cheeks. " Pl-lease.." you begged him. He hummed as he took a hold of your wrist in his hands, tugging you to his side.

" Don't worry, you are safe here. With me" he says brushing his lips against the side of your head. " You belong with me" he mumbles. You clench your eyes shut, whimpering and wishing Steve would walk through the doors and save you.

" He doesn't deserve you" he's talking about Steve, Kurt was really jealous that Steve got all the girls and got the prettiest girl out of them all. You.

" You never noticed me before, you were alway so kind to me" he says. You looked over him as he looked down at his lap. His greasy hair shielding his eyes from you. " What do you mean, Kurt?"

His gaze met yours as he smiled, " At school. Steve was King Steve. Keys was always the smart one and me" he shrugged, " no one liked me. But you, you were my partner for one of the classes we had together and you were so kind to me."

" People never noticed you, you were always trying to fit in and you always wanted to be like Steve" He nods. There is a deep frown on his face as he listens to you.

" I've only wanted someone to care about me the way you care about Steve"

" One day you will find that, Kurt.." he shakes his head.

" I want it with you" the words send chills down your spine from the way he looked at you. Did Steve knew you were missing? Was he looking for you?

₊✧──────✧₊∘

" Why do you think he took her?" Robin asks as she looks between Steve and Keys. Steve was pacing the room while Keys stood in the corner tuning the radio in his hands alerting the others about the situation.

" Do you really think hearing the sound of his voice will alter the others? I mean have they met him?" Robin points towards Keys who looked up at the sound of her question.

" Yes I think he took her, Kurt is capable of something like this and Robin, it's bound to happen where they all find out about my brothers. It's not like they were hidden. We all went to high school together " Steve says with his hands on his hips.

" I went to same school as him" she points to Keys who scoffed at her, " and your other brother?" Steve nodded, shrugging. " The two weren't popular like King Steve."

" King Steve" snorted Keys.

" What's wrong with King Steve?" Steve asked, " Why do you always have to laugh about it?' Keys shrugged.

" You were a joke back then" Keys says. Then they hear a voice on the radio, it's Mike's and El's voice.

" Repeat that" Steve rushes towards Keys grabbing the radio off of him and leaning his ear against it to hear better. He thought he heard right but he's not too sure.

" There was a guy, he had unwashed hair with a trucker hat on and a blue long sleeve shirt and he looked like he was in a rush but he looked like Steve..."El spoke as she caught the attention of Steve. He withheld it back from his hands as all the color from his face disappeared.

" Steve...?" Robin asked watching him lose all the color from his face as he stumbled back. " Woah there" Keys rushed around to hold him up.

" We're going to find her, okay?" Keys says. Steve looked up him with glossed over eyes as his lip quivered. He couldn't believe Kurt would do something like this, to his own brother. His heart felt torn of the thought of something happening to you.

₊✧──────✧₊∘

The door to the cabin opened was Kurt stumbled in with bags of food that he had brought with him. He sets them on the kitchen counter turning to look at you, you were in the same spot as you were before.

" Your free to come take a look at what I brought for you. These are some of. your favorites" your eyes looked towards the door then back to Kurt seeing his back to you. He moved to the other side of the kitchen when you slide off the couch and quietly stood up.

The little noise alerted Kurt that you had moved. He turned his head to look at you over his shoulder through his greasy hair and turned back around to look into the bags. He thought you were going to come and take a look at what he brought for you when his head snapped hearing the sound of your feet running to the door.

" You can't leave!" he shouts running after you, the bag falls to the ground with a roll of some cans that Kurt found in the kitchen in his house. You were too busy to run to pay attention to anything else. The wind flew in your hair as you continued to run with Kurt hot on your tail.

" I love you!" he shouted after you in the distance. You came near a tree to catch your breath, sliding down down at feeling your heart race and looking behind the tree to see no one was there. It was silence only the sound of some birds.

You licked your lips, looking around the tree once more and turned your head gasping in sight seeing Kurt standing there with a small knife in his hand.

" I told you that you can't leave" your eyes grew wide as he placed a small piece of tape on your mouth and next thing you knew, you saw nothing. Kurt picked you over his shoulder as he carried you back into the cabin.

" Bad Y/N, really bad Y/N. You disappointed me" he says.

₊✧──────✧₊∘

" Y/N! Y/N!" Nancy shouted your name in the middle of the woods looking around. " Would you keep it down? He might hear us" Keys says as he glares at her. " She was just doing the same thing, you know?" she points to Robin who looks back at her with a shrug.

" How are we going to find her?" Dustin asked. Steve looked around and his eyes spotted a figure walking to a car to get something.

" Do-" Lucas spoke up but Steve's hand clasped over his mouth as he puts a finger to his lips pointing to the figure. It was really hard to tell who it was until the sound of a snap was heard alerting the person that someone was there.

The gang and both Harrington brothers hide in the bushes and trees while Kurt turned around with a flash light in his hands over looking to see who was there.

" Whoever you are, go away" he says turning back around. He was leaning in his truck to not notice that Steve and Keys were slowly making their way behind him, and suddenly feeling hands on him as he was ready to scream when he got pushed into the trunk.

" That's not-" he didn't get to finish his sentence as he spots his brothers staring down at him. " Keys! Steve!" he says happy to see them. Steve looks like he was ready to kill but Keys stared down at his brother in disappointment.

" You always cause trouble, Kurt. This time you went too far" Steve says, " I'm going to call mom and dad, you'll be joining them from now on on their vacations" Kurts eyes grew wide as he shook his head. He didn't like his parents very much, he felt more comfortable with his brothers.

" Please...I'm-" he didn't get to finish his sentence as Keys and Steve shut the trunk of the car closed with Kurt yelling inside that he was going to get back at Steve for this.

" Steve?" it was like music to his ears hearing the sound of your voice. He quickly turned around just in time for you to race in his arms. His eyes brim with tears having you back in his arms.

" I'm here" Steve mumbles into the crook of your neck, " you're safe."

He pulls away cupping your face, frowning seeing the dried up blood in the corner of your head.

" I'm okay, Stevie. I'm much better now, I knew you were going to come for me."

" I always will" He says, leaning down pressing his forehead against yours. " I'm always going to find you."

[tune-a-tyun]

enemy spotted! taehyun x fem!reader ✿ teaser ✿

|| TEASER ||

pairing: taehyun x fem!reader

genre: fluff/angst, academic rivals to lovers

warnings: taehyun being kinda toxic to his own self ig??? intense simping tbh

word count: 885 words

a/n: lmao, i haven't even started writing the premise for this but i just couldn't resist! this will prolly be released as a one-shot? english is not my first language, i apologise for any mistakes and/or typos. this is just a test run tbh.

quite honestly speaking, taehyun didn't hate you that much. or at least, that's what he liked to believe.

your sudden intrusion into his private life had not warranted your subsequent constant presence. and yet, here you were, lolling around on the cramped kitchen counter as he made hot chocolate to calm both of your bodies from the near hypothermic collapse you two went through in the past couple of hours.

he truly did not hate you, but the annoyance in his queasy guts was a bit hard to ignore when you were constantly spitting out chides and snide remarks on his technique of stirring a pot full of hot liquid, or his lack of knowledge of the correct timing to add the milk, or his inefficiency at equalising the portions in two separate utensils and concocting them separately to affirm to both of your individual preferences; you had proclaimed to be likely catch a severe case of diabetes if his cup of overly-sweetened hot chocolate lay within even a foot of your radius. taehyun was only putting up with your antics because he was your host.

and because you had those dumb puppy eyes.

indeed, both of you eyes shone with the thanksgiving decorations his parents had dutifully arranged around the living area, and taehyun spotted fairy lights behind the cabinets projected in your glittering pupils. your hands' warmth that burned through his puffy pullover and seeped down to every single tingling cell of his arms when you held them to better guide the stirring pan, your foggy breath -- a combination of the teeth-rotting gummy bears you had shared with him on the bus and peppermint -- tickled his shivering neck, thighs playing aggressive footsie to knock him off his stool while he grabs the mugs from the lower cabinets, finger flicks against his shoulder which cut into his blades as you scrambled to wrestle him for the disney-princess moana cup for yourself. your broken chuckle and a little gasp sent taehyun into a spiral about your cute little lips puckering at him...about your lip and skincare routine, nothing else.

you waved the little mug under his grumpy nose even as the sight of your wispy baby hair tickled taehyun's throat and your sweet--- no, weird nose scrunch imitated itself in his heart. you irritated him so much that his nerves hadn't calmed down even after you two had flung yourself out of the blizzard and into the comfort of his heated home.

"wow," taehyun muttered, raising his (in your opinion, unfortunately) perky cupid's bow. "i really do hate you."

instead of replying, you just handed him the chipped mug with his poison of choice, just flashing a toothy grin. "ah! good job, genius," you remarked when he spilled it a little bit while taking it from your pink hands.

taehyun could not possibly hate you more in that moment. he witnessed you morph your mouth into that galling pout and pull out frays from his dog-eared early-season woollen pullover and his heart trekked its way to his throat. he saw you take an experimental sip and sink back into the cushioned stool with the lulling comfort it brought, and he went through a physical battle to remember how to breathe. he heard you mumble a tiny, "thank you," with eyes shut and you lazily pulling the stack of worksheets on differential equations taehyun had offered to help you in towards yourself...and with no warning, his ears rang with a soaring wind and he was left speechless.

speechless because a racing, bubbling, overwhelming and tickling sensation had begun from his toes to your chipped nail-paint, from his buck teeth to your awkward fringe tucked away beside you ear, from the unopened sachet of instant coffee resting next to the milk carton to his own trembling lips, your hands fumbling to grab a pen from his limp hands, from the tick-tock-tick-tock of the ever speeding clock to his dizzying vision, from your blushing cheeks when he pulls his stool closer to yours and started pouring over the graphs - to his arm arranged precariously by the helm of your shoulder, from you sparking pencil-box to the deadening college applications on his desk upstairs, mysteriously unfilled.

and then he stopped floating. instead of the cloudy sensation, now wave after wave knocked him out. he was on the ocean floor, gazing through his prickling eyes and piercing pain in chest as he gasped for oxygen, blue water above him, his shoulder distancing the two of you, your questioning look at him for snatching the sheet of his notes away from your hands, dark, murky water around him. he had set off to study in his own room and he was thrashing, the suffocating instinct pooling all the ice from the snow outside to his heart inside, his legs pumping to climb the stairs, black, black, black storm all around him. it was okay; he had a plan. your voice called after him as his slammed him door and pulled out his stationery. your incessant knocks on his doors and his insistence that he wasn't going to teach you jack-shit from his notes echoed through the house.

your thundering silence and noiseless steps down to the living area. your exit leaving a tensing chill across his clavicle.

it all annoyed him.

anyway, he was going to go to a good college. and in reality, he really just hated you.

please send to message to be added to the taglist!

[dontsh0vethesun]

hihi!! can I request joyce byers x fem!reader where they're oblivious to eachother's feelings. they're going to save hopper with murray and he's fed up with them not realising their feelings for eachother so he comments on it. later on he walks in on them kissing :))

murray knows best

Pairing - Joyce Byers x Reader

A/N - sorry this took so long, hope this is okay :)

masterlist

“Listen, if we’re gonna save Hopper we can’t do it with all this weird sexual tension in the air.” Murray spoke, gesturing his arms wildly between you and Joyce. You both only looked at him with confusion plastered over your features.

“What sexual tension is in the air?” Joyce returned.

“Murray, do you have the hots for Joyce?” You teased, desperately trying to deflect his words. You were aware of how he somehow sussed out the feelings between Nancy and Jonathan and you’ll be damned if he exposes yours. “Oh God, you don’t have the hots for me do you? Y’know I love you as a friend but-”

“No! No, no.” He interrupted with a sigh, looking at you as though you were crazy. “It’s like you’re both completely blind - I have never seen anything so clearly.”

“What do you mean?” Joyce questioned and you missed the nervous shuffle of her feet and the way she picked at a loose thread on her shirt sleeve. Her eyes quickly darted to your face and back to his, seeing the disbelief you looked at him with, it only made her more insecure in her feelings for you. Of course you didn’t like her back.

“I’m an expert at these things, okay? I know a sexual tension when I feel one.” He answered. “And this air is thick. It’s like Cupid threw up everywhere and then mixed it all up in syrup and then turned that into air.”

“What?”

“Don’t judge my analogies, alright? Now, I am shutting this door with me on the other side of it and if when I come back it’s still weird as shit in here, I am rescuing Hopper on my own. Understand?”

“Murray, we don’t know what you’re talking ab-” You began to protest before being silenced by a raise of his hand.

“You have ten minutes ladies, keep it PG.” He winked before leaving with the familiar sound of the lock clicking shut behind him.

The silence was painful as you heard his footsteps retreat and you cleared your throat awkwardly with a nervous scratch to the back of your neck; Joyce avoided eye contact with you with flushed pink cheeks and more focus going into her nails than anything else.

“So, uh, he’s weird right?” You commented, scuffing the toe of your boot along the concrete floor.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Yeah, yep, totally weird. I don’t even know what he’s talking about honestly.” She shrugged, flicking her brown eyes in your direction quickly, inching herself nearer to you just to feel your presence.

“No, me neither.”

You smiled at her when she perched beside you, it was hard not to feel the tug of your lips into an upward curve at the sight of her. She’s so beautiful after all, making your heart skip a beat as cliche as it sounds, filling your belly with butterflies.

She nudged your shoulder with hers and you caught the scent of her floral perfume with her proximity. You nudged her back and she laughed, letting her hand fall between you with her pinky finger brushing against yours. It was a silence that followed, one less awkward than before, both of your minds working on overdrive.

“What if, maybe, he wasn’t talking complete shit?” She practically whispered, shuffling her hand closer to yours, overlapping her little finger with yours in a perfect warmth. “What if, maybe - hypothetically - he was right and Cupid really did throw up everywhere?” She added, grinning at the laugh you huffed out.

“I think that, hypothetically, I would say that Murray was right.” You muttered back, daring a glance in her direction only to find her eyes already trained on the side of your face, instantly locking with yours. “I would say that I have these feelings for you, love feelings, and that you give me butterflies and all I wanna do is know what it’s like to kiss you. Hypothetically, of course.”

“Of course.” She laughed and as if you were dreaming you caught her leaning closer to you, felt her cupping your cheek with the softness of her palm to pull you close. “And perhaps in this hypothetical scenario I did this…”

She whispered before pressing her lips to yours with the taste of her raspberry lips balm on your tongue as soon as she kissed you. It was everything you could’ve imagined and more, the way her lips moved so heavenly against yours and how her waist felt underneath your hand.

You didn’t ever want to pull away, you never wanted to spend another moment not in this perfect embrace. You couldn’t have guessed how amazing it’d feel when the kiss with Joyce deepened and her teeth tugged at your bottom lip and her tongue licked into your mouth with all the passion she could muster.

And just as she pulled you ever nearer with your arms draped over her shoulders and hers around your waist, chests and hips flush together, Murray waltzed in with all the smug confidence in the world.

“I told you there was sexual tension - unless this is platonic of course.” He mocked with his arms crossed over his chest as he leant against the door frame. His entrance startled you apart but Joyce never took her hold away from your waist. “C’mon, where’s my ‘thank you Murray, you’re the best’?”

“You could’ve knocked.” Joyce grumbled.

“And miss my perfect ‘I told you so’ moment? I don’t think so.”

“Go on then, say it.” She sighed and you smiled at the annoyed pout on her pink swollen lips.

“I could never be so cruel.” He grinned. “Sometimes oblivious idiots just need a push in the right direction. I’m just merely the modern day Cupid, watch me soar and scatter little raindrops of love atop your precious heads.” He added with a flourish whilst the pair of you just stared back in amusement.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be that mature.” You smiled. “Although I’m not sure that spiel was overly mature but I definitely expected you to sa-”

“I told you so.” He interrupted.

“There it is.”

[gamerbearmira]

GUYS GUYS MERMAID AU STUFF

MERMAN PEDRO MEETING ALMA BUT I THREW IN SOME SIREN SHIZZ JUST FOR FUN

👹👹👹 I love angst

—————

“Pedro?” Alma asked, walking over to the river where Pedro was playing with his their grandchildren. The man spun and turned to look at his wife. He felt Antonio wriggle out of his grasp, whimpering as he swam over to his sister. Pedro frowned as he watched his grandchildren swim a little ways away from Alma.

Pedro looked at Alma, frown still present. “In the flesh,” he said stern,y, crossing his arms.

“You’re…alive? A-And you’re…a…a…” Alma’s voice got caught in her mouth, as she stared at Pedro, then his tail.

Not her husband. That photo, it had to be fake, it couldn’t be true. There was just no way. Her husband a—

“A merman?” Pedro said, before his face hardened. “Or, in your words, and I quote, a ‘sea devil’?”

Alma looked towards her former grandkids. They must have told him. There was no other way. And this man couldn’t be her husband…her husband was a kind human, one who cared for his kids. Unless…unless he abandoned her on purpose, and came back only because he found out his grandkids were like him.

“You…you aren’t my husband, you can’t be he’s not…” Alma backed up as Pedro swam forward slightly.

“A sea devil? A merman?” Pedro flicked his fins slightly. “A siren even!” Pedro chuckled before he stopped suddenly. “I could show you siren.”

“What—?” Alma grimaced at his tone. No. He wouldn’t.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,” Pedro sang, voice ghostlike, echoing in her head. She covered her ears, no, no way.

It couldn’t be. Alma shook her head as she back away from him…was he even her husband? She saw him move closer to the shore, and physically lift himself out.

His human legs instantly appeared, and he moved towards Alma who was frozen in place. Pedro’s hands moved her hands from her ears before he cradled her face, looking into her eyes with an emotion she couldn’t pin point.

“There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold,” Pedro got incredibly close to her face, looking into her eyes. For a moment he said nothing, before letting her go and walking back towards the kids, who had said nothing as they watched their grandfather ruin their grandmothers world.

“Come on nietos,” Pedro got back into the water, letting his long tail stretch out. He took one last look at Alma, who had paled greatly and was rendered silent. “Come back when you’re ready to apologize…How’s that for sea devil?” With that, the group of merfolk swam off downstream, leaving Alma to drop the ground as she stared at her hands.

She remembered when Pedro sang that in the past, but she had never thought that it…

———

REALLY WEIRD AND BAD BUT I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT 🗿🗿

What do y’all think 🧑‍🦲

[pascalpanic]

Lovely Josie! Can I request a Frankie piece? Where reader is part of the friend group and really into Frankie. She knows he's also into her but just typical insecure Frankie. So she flirts with him and tries to seduce him every chance she gets until one day she's had enough and really goes for it. And if course Frankie likes it 😇 Merci!

Spicy-Sweet (Frankie Catfish Morales x f!Reader)

summary: ^^

W/C: 4.3K

Warnings: lots of talk of alcohol, food, god Frankie’s an idiot but a cute one, so much pining and flirting, implied age gap and Frankie’s insecure over it, Frankie has a brief and mild anxiety attack but is comforted

A/N: this is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, I really hope you guys enjoy it!

Bucky- that was what the men called you. When you’d first joined the group of men, it’d been as Pope’s friend, a shock to all of them; you weren’t sleeping together, weren’t sneaking around. Just friends. That threw them for a loop. You were always at his side, his right-hand wing-woman. Frankie had been a little put off at first that he’d been replaced, but he grew to like you just as much as the other men. That’s how you’d earned Bucky: Cap’s sidekick, Pope’s sidekick.

When you finally bonded with the rest of them, became friends with them, you were less Pope’s sidekick and more yourself. You grew to love the men for different things. Benny was always there to cheer you up, full of bad jokes and energy. He’d take you out when a date stood you up, buy you a beer on your shittiest days. Will Miller was a shoulder to cry on. He was smart, strong, emotionally intelligent. Wise beyond his years, Ironhead always had the best advice for you. Pope was the partier, and was the one who got things done. Organizing plans was his forte. He loved getting the group together to hang out, and was the only one who could rally the group.

Frankie was all of that and more. Everything. Frankie had caught your eye the moment Pope introduced you to the men. Frankie was the quietest, even quieter than Will. He never enjoyed the spotlight, especially when you were new, but he loved making his friends laugh. He was comforting and helpful, lending you a jacket or helping you with a manual labor task you couldn’t quite get.

Frankie is the one you have a crush on. All of the men have their attributes, and you have to admit that any of them would make a good boyfriend and surely a good lover, but they are and always have been brotherly first. Frankie was something different. You wanted to stay in his arms forever, wanted to kiss the bald patch on his jaw and steal his Hawaiian shirts. You tease him endlessly to hide your feelings, though never in a mean way at all. Always soft and joking, always reciprocated by the teddy bear of a man.

You were the same to him; the first time he saw you, he thought he wanted to marry you someday. He loves your laugh and your humor, loves the way you nudge his side and even though it’s a little painful, wants you to do it again just so he can feel your body touching his. He loves how you can hold court over the men with your stories, can get them to agree on the most divisive of issues. He’d even proposed once that you become Cap, not Bucky. You were clearly a leader. But Santiago brushed it off by saying that Bucky was getting his own show now, so he’s just fine, and besides pendejo, you can’t change a nickname once it's been given.

Emotionally constipated Frankie is just fine to sit to the sidelines. If he has one principle with love and friends, it’s that he’d rather have you as a friend than not have you at all. That’s why he doesn’t necessarily openly flirt with you, why he suppresses his feelings until it’s late at night and he’s alone and can daydream about your pretty face and tight jeans and the crinkle of your nose when you smile.

You’re different. You wear that green shirt you know Frankie always ogles you in when it’s a night out. You buy him a drink or two. You insist he dance with you, take him on errands with you on a Saturday morning. You can read the man; you’re pretty damn sure he likes you too, but you don’t want to ruin it. Rushing him is the last thing on your mind.

-

As you wander through the farmer’s market on a spring Sunday morning, you shiver as the breeze rushes past your bare arms. Frankie doesn’t notice; he’s too busy admiring a booth selling hot honey. You can’t help but laugh as he delightedly samples a spoon of the syrupy-sweet-spicy product, and turns to you with wide eyes. “Bucky, you gotta try this,” he insists, handing you a sample spoon.

Nodding, you give in and taste it. The flavor on your tongue reminds you of Frankie if he were a flavor: a little spicy, but more of a warm feeling. Infinitely sticky-sweet, floral and tasting of sunshine. There’s heat, just a little, enough to awaken your tastebuds and mingle with the honey perfectly. “That’s good shit. How much is it?” You ask the vendor.

A few minutes later, you walk away with two bottles. You hand one to Frankie. “Here. This is for you,” you tell him with an earnest smile.

Frankie’s brows slide together beneath the brim of his favorite ball cap. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” you shrug and pat his cheek, your path curving to the right as you approach a bakery stall.

The morning is sunny and just slightly cold, making you shiver every so often. Sweet Frankie walks dutifully at your side like the dogs and their owners similarly strolling the tent-lined sidewalk. His eyes light up as he sees breads and flowers, homemade jerky and beautiful jewelry. The variety is exciting, and you often hear Frankie shouting for you from a new booth.

While you admire the jewelry made of local stones, something warm and soft covers your shoulders. You look down to find that it’s Frankie’s suede brown jacket. “You looked cold,” he tells you and turns a little pink before patting your shoulder and wandering off.

At the end of the day, you have a full reusable bag, brimming with goodies: a small bright bouquet, two loaves of bread, cookies, fresh berries, and a bottle of hot honey. Frankie’s is similarly stuffed, though it’s with much more unhealthy choices. The two of you sit on a grassy hill, munching on a pack of thumbprint cookies Frankie purchased.

The morning sun is just starting to warm up, but the jacket you’re now wearing is cozy. You lean your head on Frankie’s shoulder as the two of you rest there without words, lost in your own thoughts.

God, he’s so cute. So sweet. A little stupid. Just how I like them. Is my flirting not obvious enough to him? You wonder internally.

Frankie’s thoughts are similar but different. She’s so sweet. She’s so nice to me. I wonder if she’d ever like me like that.

-

Partying is Pope’s favorite pastime. The man enjoys getting shitfaced and taking a similarly drunk date home. Lord knows what they do; you’re glad you don’t. That leaves you and the Millers and Frankie. You and Benny dance and sing karaoke, twirling and shouting the lyrics to the song blasting in the bar. Frankie and Will sit on the sidelines.

That’s exactly where tonight has found you. A surprisingly sober Pope has gone home with a pretty girl he flirted with briefly before she tugged him by the jacket sleeve. He shot a look of excitement at the four of you before leaving.

Now, Benny requested his favorite song through the pay-per-tune machine in the corner. You’d squealed and dragged him out, dancing with him on the wooden floor the bar provides. Frankie can’t help but think the two of you would make a good couple. The two of you are full of sarcasm and energy at most times, around the same age. Frankie’s a bit older, and he can’t help but think that it would be weird for you, that it would prevent him from liking you. If only he knew.

Benny does, actually. He’s annoyed that your group doesn’t give him enough credit for his smarts. He might be mostly muscle, but he’s packing brains too. He’s great at observing social interactions, and he can especially tell that there’s something between the two of you. He’s learned his best friend like he knows how to drive or what his own phone number is. Benny knows Frankie, and he knows he won’t make the first move for fear of upsetting you. That’s why he’s taken it upon himself to be your blonde, blue eyed Cupid and queued up Frankie’s favorite song next.

You know it’s his favorite song. Of course you do. When it comes on, you turn to the bar with wide eyes and wave to catch Frankie’s attention, then wave him over. Benny says something or another and wanders off. It takes some nonverbal persuading, some pleading eyes and pouting to the man, but Frankie eventually adjusts his jeans and gets up, leaving that suede jacket behind on his barstool.

“It’s your song!” you exclaim as you throw your arms around him, starting to dance along with him. He moves back with you, though nowhere near as fluid or free.

He shakes his head but smiles, and you flick the brim of his cap. “Oh come on, you love this song. Don’t be such a dope,” you tease and grab his hips, forcing him to move them a little more than the stiff motions he’s making.

“I am a dope,” he mumbles and you roll your eyes, moving in a way that invites Frankie to move back against it. It’s a two-person dance, and you’re starting to get him moving.

Chuckling, you look up at him. “You ever seen Footloose?” you ask him.

He blows a raspberry into the air, laughing. “Of course I have. It’s my favorite movie.”

“Then how come you can’t dance?” You tease.

Frankie makes a noise of mock-injury, clutching his chest. “Damn, Bucky. Right in the heart.”

You giggle and rest your head on his shoulder. “I was going to say that you remind me of Willard. I guess that’s fitting though. You can’t dance.”

His scent is the only thing you can think about, the way his cologne is spicy and sweet on his flushed skin, warm from having you in such close proximity. “Does that make Pope Ren?”

“And it makes me whatever the girl who dates Willard is named,” you shamelessly flirt, swaying him to the side as the song changes in keys.

If there was anything in Frankie’s mouth right now, he’d be choking. Maybe it’s just because you’re dancing together, he rationalizes. Maybe it’s just because you wouldn’t want to date Pope. It can’t be because you like him. That’s not even a thought that crosses his mind. “Ha. Sure,” he shakes his head, taking off his cap and teasingly placing it backwards on your head.

It’s loose on your head, and you laugh as you look up at him. Frankie has that feeling again in his gut: he’s going to marry you someday. It can’t be the alcohol, not in either of you. You’ve both only had a drink each. No, in this moment he realizes the depth of how bad he wants you, but he cannot comprehend that you want him too. There’s no way you could ever love a man like Francisco Morales, he tells himself. But he wants you to. He aches for you to.

The song ends and the ache only grows. Frankie is not a dancer. This is his time to retire to the barstool. “Well, thank you for holding my hat,” he teases you and steals it back, putting it on himself and patting your side before wandering back to his spot next to Will.

You frown, but then Benny finds you again and the energy returns somewhat. You long to feel Frankie’s arms around you again, to dance with him and whisper jokes next to his ear so that you can feel the way his laugh buzzes in his chest. You consider buying another play of Frankie’s song later, but that would be suspicious. You’ll have to find another way, but you have to do it soon; you’re not sure how much longer you can last before you combust from not getting to kiss his soft lips, to feel his scruff beneath your fingertips as you cup his face and finally close the gap between the two of you.

-

Frankie is much too old for parties. He’d decided that even a few years ago now, that that sort of thing was best left to the young bucks who could drink endlessly and awaken with only a mild headache. How the hell Benny had talked him into attending this party, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that you’d be there and that was enough for him.

You’re not a big partier either; you can get wild, but only around your friends, usually only with Benny there to egg you on and hand you shot after shot. You don’t particularly like getting drunk, just enough alcohol to make things a bit lighter. Benny and Santiago were the ones who’d insisted you and Frankie come along to this party a mutual friend of theirs is hosting.

Of course, the boys wanted you two there but had failed to mention they were each bringing dates. When you wandered in with Benny and a girl flung herself onto him, peppering his blonde stubble with kisses, you’d quickly learned that you weren’t going to get a good night with your favorite guys. Santiago was similarly taken, a girl draped across his lap in a busy living room, each of them holding a drink. He’d given you a two-finger salute as you wandered to the kitchen, kind of annoyed.

You’d dressed a little nicer, though nothing too special, and you immediately hoped at least Frankie and Will would be around tonight to hang out with. Will’s not a big partier, though he’s a little more social than you and Frankie. Your phone buzzes in your back pocket and your face falls as you read the text.

Ironhead: sorry guys. Not gonna make it out tonight.

He provides no explanation why; Will never does. You know better than to question it. Your only hope now is that Frankie doesn’t blow you off.

Frankie could never. The promise of you being at the party was enough for him to meticulously shave and spray that cologne he knows you love on his flannel, which you’ll surely ask for because you’re always cold. He’s not here yet, so you lean against the kitchen counter and crack open a hard seltzer as you look around. Bringing your drink with you, you hit the bathroom and when you return, there’s a familiar ball cap poking above the crowd, labeled with Standard Heating & Oil. Frankie.

Sneaking up behind him, you snatch the cap from his head and put it on yourself. “Hey, pilot,” you sing as he turns and his face lights up to see you. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower, leaving an indent in those curls from where the cap was.

“Goddamnit, Buck,” he laughs and tries to steal it back, but you dodge out of the way.

“Looks like it’s just us tonight, flyboy,” you sigh as you prop an elbow on his shoulder and look around, finding Benny and his girl making out on the dance floor and Santiago playing with a woman’s hair on the couch.

Frankie has to admit he’s okay with that. “They didn’t tell me they’d be bringing dates,” you grumble. Frankie holds back a chuckle. This was most definitely planned, Wingman Benny embracing his role in forcing the two of you together. Frankie couldn’t say he was too upset about it, in all honesty. “Come on, let’s get you a drink,” you shake your head and grab Frankie by the bicep, trying not to shiver at how muscular his arms are.

In the kitchen, you toy with the hem of his shirt as he mixes himself an old fashioned from the vast cocktail bar. “I love this one,” you murmur absentmindedly, admiring the worn fabric and the ripping seams at the hem. It’s so perfectly Frankie: an old black Fleetwood Mac shirt, nearly falling apart. There are holes in the hems and under the left armpit but it always smells sweet and spicy, just like him, and feels like a security blanket. “Looks good on you.”

“Looks like a piece of shit. I need to just throw it out, but I can’t bring myself to,” he chuckles as he finally takes a sip of his drink. He knows the reason he can’t: you love it too much.

“Good,” you nod and set down your hard seltzer, making yourself a drink.

“What you got there?” he asks as he watches you stir up a concoction.

“Essentially the same as you. Old fashioned but with Fireball instead of regular whiskey.”

“You seem to like the spicy-sweet thing, don’t you?” he teases.

God, if only he knew. “Spicy-sweet, just like someone else I know,” you tease him and nudge your shoulder with his. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

Frankie’s heart does several backflips in a row, complete with a roundoff and a cartwheel. He’d earn the gold in the Olympics, the way his heart tumbles and turns in his chest. “Ha,” he laughs dryly, looking down at his own drink, swishing it and watching the ultra-sweet cherry spin through the dark liquid.

The music gets louder from the other room as you and Frankie drink in silence, both of you leaning against the kitchen counter as the amount of alcohol per cup steadily decreases. “I’m gonna go see if I can find Pope,” Frankie finally speaks over the loudening noise, nodding to the living room where everyone is clustered.

“Sure,” you call back, even though he’s just a few feet from you.

It’s practically a maze, trying to find his way through the people. They’re all moving and bouncing, the sound overwhelming him. It’s like a goddamn mosh pit, he thinks, or how it must feel to be buried inside one. How did this party become something like this, and why the hell is he here? Frankie wanders through, getting turned around as the group moves and sways.

His breathing gets heavier, and suddenly Frankie feels suffocated. His primary objective no longer is finding Pope, it’s getting the fuck out of here before this herd stampedes him to death. He feels pathetic and small, like a single fish in a giant school wandering through an abysmally deep sea.

When the tide loosens its hold, when Frankie sees a path, he takes it out. He’s not sure how long he was trapped in there- 20 seconds, a minute, five minutes, but he’s overwhelmed and his head is spinning, his drink somehow gone and lost in the shuffle.

You see him stumble out, looking terrified, and rush over. “Hey, hey, Frankie,” you murmur as you grab his forearms. “Are you okay? Did you find Pope?” You ask, your thumbs tracing over his pulsing veins.

He shakes his head, and you take it as a no for both. “Okay, come on, did you drive here? Is your truck out there?”

He nods and grabs his keys, putting them in your hand. “Alright, pilot, come on. Let’s get you out of here.” You stick the hat back on his head and hope it could maybe bring a sense of normalcy back to him.

Frankie’s head feels like radio static as you bring him to the truck, unlocking it and sliding in first across the bench seat. He follows in after you and closes the door, and he turns the air conditioning on full-blast, feeling desperately hot.

“Hey, hey. Talk to me,” you beg of him, cupping the side of his face with one hand. You shiver under the quick breeze of the vents, the cold air immediately filling the cab of his truck. “What happened?” You ask, just above a whisper, fingers tracing the stubble of his jaw.

His eyes are getting more normal, less panicked and more sane. He must’ve had some kind of anxiety or PTSD moment in the crowd. “Just… thought I was gonna get crushed,” he murmurs, not looking at you.

“Frankie. Let’s breathe together, okay? Look at me.” His eyes find yours and you smile. “Good. Follow me.”

You ground him nearly instantly, your chilled skin under his hands as he grips your upper arms, your soft lips parting to breathe in and out. The flutter of your eyelashes when you close those beautiful eyes, the one that have such a distinct unique color. He would kiss you right now if he had the courage.

He breathes along with you and is calm enough by the second breath to think rationally again. The wave has passed, leaving his body feeling tired and limp. “I-I’m good,” he assures you, tracing his fingers across your skin. “Bucky, you’re freezing.”

“Frankie,” you give a sad chuckle. “I’m supposed to be calming you, and-“

“I’m super hot, please, take this,” he says as he shucks his flannel and hands it to you. “It would help me,” he says simply, enjoying the way the air conditioning more directly contacts his skin without it on.

“Well, okay,” you laugh and slip it on, breathing in the warm scent that is Frankie and sighing contentedly. “See? I love the sweet and spicy thing, like your cologne.”

He shakes his head and looks away. “Oh, stop. You don’t mean that.”

You frown at him. “Frankie. You’re thinking straight again, right?”

He nods.

“Then how aren’t you processing how in love with you I am?” You ask with a soft laugh, resting your head against his shoulder. “I flirt with you endlessly, and it feels like you never pick up on it. So now I’m just going to say it: I like you, Frankie.”

Biting his lip, Frankie looks down at you with slight confusion. “Really?”

You laugh incredulously, burying your face in his neck. “Yes, Frankie, really. I like you a lot. I have since the moment I met you. And I’d like to think you like me too.”

There’s a beat of silence and he nods, taking one of your hands in his and lacing the fingers together. “I really like you too. I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met, Buck,” he admits, wide brown eyes looking down at you with all of the love in his massive heart. “I just… didn’t want to assume anything. You’re so good to me, but you’re so good to the other guys too.”

“Do I buy the other men bottles of hot honey? Have I ever brought a date around like the other guys do?” You ask, lovingly and hoping he sees your point. “I’ve been pining for you for so long, Morales. I just want you to get it through your thick skull that I care for you and I’ve been in love with you for quite a while.”

“I feel stupid,” he mumbles, ears turning pink at the tips. “It was pretty obvious. You’re right.”

“Hey, you’re not stupid,” you assure him and squeeze his fingers. “I personally think it’s fucking adorable that you didn’t want to assume that. I like that, that you didn’t want to do anything first without knowing the same about you. I like all of you, Frankie, from that scruffy beard to these cozy flannels you always let me borrow.”

His heart melts in his chest, reducing him to a puddle. “Then I guess I should ask if you’d be my girl.”

His girl? If you thought he couldn’t get any cuter, you were wrong. You can’t hold back any longer and you swing your leg across his lap, straddling him in the bench seat of his truck. “Can I kiss you, Frankie?” You ask, gently removing his cap and setting it aside.

“God, yes please,” he practically whines as he cups your face in both of his big hands, kissing you deeply and breathing out heavily through his nose.

It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt, Frankie’s body pressed to yours as your lips meet. You both taste that perfect spicy-sweet flavor, the way that’s so Frankie in your head. This might be the sweetest and softest man alive, you think to yourself, and goddamn, you’re lucky, Bucky.

His body radiates the heat of his love and stress and everything, completely melting into yours. You’re never going to stop doing this now that you’ve started. You’re never going a day without holding Frankie like this.

Your legs are firmly planted on either side of him, and Frankie moves his hands to grip your waist and pull you in closer. Shivering at the way he practically manhandles you, you moan into his lips, murmuring his name breathlessly. It’s like the most perfect melody, the way you say it. He mumbles your name back, your real name. Not Bucky.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself tight against him, running one hand through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He tastes like heaven, just as perfect as you’ve dreamed about for as long as you’ve known him. When you break away, you smile softly, admiring the way he’s panting beneath you. His head is tilted back to look at you on top of him, his eyes glazed over and cheeks warmed with pounding blood. You gulp and trace the side of his face with feather-light fingertips, admiring his beauty. “God, Francisco,” you murmur. “Why didn’t I do this sooner?”

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

[malum-forev]

New Year's Kiss

Summary: Bucky wants (Y/N) to be his New Year's kiss, so he enlists the best men to help with the job, Steve and Sam.

Word Count: 950.

The top floor of Stark Tower was filled to the brim. Suits, ties, and sparkly dresses filled the room, a sea of red and green. Others would have mistaken Bucky’s nervous moves as dancing, but not his best friends.

“Have you been taking tap dancing lessons?” Sam asked looking down at Bucky’s nonstop leg.

“You’re gonna drill a hole into the floor man.” Steve said patting his friend on the back. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Bucky’s eyes shifted towards the huge clock on the screen and back to his friends but he only mumbled. “Nothing.”

“I mean I know parties aren’t really your thing but this is kind of weird.” Sam said with furrowed brows and a disgusted look. “You look like you could fill up three quarts with all your sweat.”

“Shut up.” Bucky snapped back, running the back of his hand over his forehead.

“You okay?” Steve asked, concerned.

“Okay so, you know (Y/n)?” He finally said.

“Yeah, we know the best agent on our team.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“You’re not helping.” Bucky replied, mirroring his action.

“What about her?” Steve asked.

“So, we’ve been kind of flirting for the past few weeks. But I mean- I’ve been flirting and I don’t know if she has, but she always- comments funny things and I don’t know if she likes me- or if she’s just a nice person and well it’s new years and-“

“Dude, if you want to kiss her you just have to say that. All this jumbled up talking isn’t going to get you nowhere.” Sam said.

“Okay, the point is, no one else is kissing!” Bucky threw his hands up, looking over to where she was standing. As soon as their eyes met, he turned back.

“Our little cyborg is growing up and having crushes.” Sam said, flicking a fake tear off his cheek and patting Steve on the back.

“Are you two going to help or not?” Bucky asked, patience running thin.

“Okay, don’t worry. We’ll help.” Steve said with a smile. As he turned around with Sam that smile quickly faded into a worried look. As soon as they we’re out of the way he turned around to face his partner. “What the hell are we going to do.”

“Okay, I’ll go with Sharon and tell her that you want to kiss her. And you go over there,” Sam said motioning to the group where (Y/n) stood with Natasha, Wanda and Vision. “and do your thing.”

Steve took a deep breath and walked towards them.

“Hey Cap, you look a little bit nervous.” (Y/n) said with a laugh. “Everything okay?”

Steve nodded his head and tried to calm himself. “So, who are you guys kissing on the countdown?”

“Are we really going to do that? What are we? Five?” Natasha said rolling her eyes.

“I mean Vision and Wanda are doing it, right?” Steve faced them and widened his eyes, Wanda furrowed her brows but quickly understood.

“Is this a new tradition? Wanda hasn’t told me any-“

“Yes V, remember we talked about this?” Wanda interrupted, squeezing his hand.

“Now, Nat and (Y/n), you’ve got options. My incredibly handsome friend Sam, or White Wolf over there.” Steve said, making everyone look over to Bucky. He was currently wiping more sweat off of his face and chugging down a glass of whiskey.

“You know I love you, and I’m sorry. ” Natasha told (Y/n). “But, dibs on Sam.”

(Y/n) bit the inside of her cheek trying to stop a huge smile from coming across. “I’ll take the Sergeant, I guess.”

(Y/n) walked past the group and towards the soldier, as soon as she left Natasha turned to Steve. “Playing cupid I see.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve feigned and took a sip from his glass.

“You’re a good friend.” Wanda said

“Lord knows no one except her wants to kiss that sweaty mess.” Natasha shook her head laughing.

All that could be heard was the twenty second count down, as (Y/n) made her way towards Bucky.

“I’ve been informed you’re my New Year’s Kiss.” She said with a smile, she ordered another drink.

“I- I didn’t know- I was just over here.” Bucky said looking down at his glass.

“Well, cheers.” She held her cup towards him, his blue eyes piercing through her once he looked up.

“To new year’s kisses.” He smiled. The sounds of the room started to fade out.

“Five.” Bucky said, bringing himself one step closer to her.

“Four.” (Y/n) put her arms over his shoulders, only a couple inches apart.

“Three.” Bucky looked over to his friends, each one accompanied by their match. Steve smiled and gave him a thumbs up while Sam mouthed ‘get in there.”

“Two.” (Y/n)’s breath hitched as she looked down at his lips.

“One.” They both whispered at the same time before coming closer. Their kiss felt like a thousand fireworks had exploded. Months of back and forth coming to a close at this very moment. Everything she had imagined was nothing compared to the real thing. His scent enveloping her, a mix of sandalwood and leather. They were just the right amount. It was as if they were the only ones in the room. The clapping and noise surrounding them took them back to the present. Foreheads pressed against each other.

“Wow.” She said, trying to contain her emotions.

“I’ve been dying to do that.” He whispered. Taking a soft hand and moving her chin upwards, making her eyes meet hers.

“I’ve been dying for you to do that.” She confessed with a small smile. “Happy New Year’s.”

“Happy New Year’s indeed.” He beamed.

Tags

@scxrletrecsmarvel @baby-banana @stucky-my-shiptoothhurtyam@bluemoon-icecream@seybox@supraveng@jasmine19346@what-a-beautiful-mess-i-made@maladaptivexxdaydreaming@confuscita@eviesaurusrex@girlfriday007@starryeyeseunbyul@thevampire97@sadisticfries@440mxs-wife@rslizj@enchantedbarnes@whitewolfsdoll@mrsbarnesx@jennyversebucky @arcanebabe@143amberrose@silentkiller2374@samantha1sodone @just-that-dumb-bitch

[sigmasemen]

“hello you, still draggin' out a long goodbye? / i ought to apologize for one of the last times.”

— admin information ~ !!

ONE. cupid, bisexual loser girl.

TWO. mainly active on twitter, using this account for my x reader posting. i can’t be too cringe on main so i have this account. never used tumblr for x reader posting since my karma days.

THREE. my favorite character isn’t chigiri it’s actually shidou, i just like how chigiri looks aesthetically as an account.

FOUR. i use she / her + he / him pronouns, whatever works for you. if you use they / them, i won’t be upset.

— post + request information ~ !!

ONE. all of my posts have the tag # / cupid’s bangers. nsfw posts have the tag # / cupid’s weird flicks as a tag. admin posts have the tag # / cupid’s mental trip.

TWO. i will write a lot except nsfw of fictional / real minors. just my personal boundary.

THREE. easier to read versions here on my wattpad sometimes. some thread fics posted here or here on twitter.

FOUR. scenarios, headcanons, oneshots, character ai bots, whatever you’d like is fine. same goes for limits on nsfw, angst, fluff, crack, anything is fine. platonic, romantic, familial, i’m fine with anything. genderbends, polyamorous, unrequited, alternative universes, have fun!

FIVE. my request box is open, of course, but you can dm me on twitter or reblog, request however works for you.

SIX. here is a masterlist.

SEVEN. i try and post (blue lock) every saturday and sometimes on monday, then post wind breaker on sunday and sometimes on friday. other fandoms will be done randomly and be rarer. wind breaker stuff has not been backlogged as of me writing this, so it might take a while for it to start.

— muses ~ !!

BLUE LOCK: full cast.

WIND BREAKER: full cast.

GORILLAZ: full cast.

GENSHIN IMPACT: full cast.

HONKAI STAR RAIL: full cast.

POKÉMON: almost full cast.

CHAINSAW MAN: almost full cast.

MYSTIC MESSENGER: full cast.

TWISTED WONDERLAND: almost full cast.

OBEY ME: full cast.

DISLYTE: a few characters.

BLUE PERIOD: a few characters.

VANITAS NO CARTE: a few characters.

ACE ATTORNEY: a few characters.

PROJECT SEKAI: full cast.

ALIEN STAGE: full cast.

BUNGO STRAY DOGS: almost full cast.

MILGRAM: full cast.

TOKYO DEBUNKERS: full cast.

OTHERS: some not listed, always open to new series.

“so predictable, i know what you're thinkin'.”

[ginwhitlock]

summary: human!JASPER/ human!BELLA. Bella is called to deliver day supplies to a very tired and mostly lost 1st Regiment Calvary, headed by no other than Major Jasper Whitlock. What will the two do once left alone to go over maps of the Tennessee hills?

fic type: oneshot, SMUT 18+

warnings: is set in the civil war, which means Jasper is a soldier in the confederacy literally only because he’s from Texas I promise, it would’ve been weird to make him union and apart of the Texas Calvary as that wasnt a union regiment, I do not support the confederacy or any of its beliefs, its just part of his backstory and this fic is centered directly in his human life (the confederacy itself is not mentioned in detail, it is just alluded to the fact). This is a smut fic but not hardcore in anyway so be warned. Oh also I made Bella and Emmett siblings. Of course. 

She almost broke his nose kissing him.

She almost shattered bone and cartilage clicking their teeth together, enamel scraping enamel.

She almost caved in the center of his face so she could lick the insides of his molars, separate his jaws to find the pit of his throat, dangle her self righteousness by his uvula.

And to think she almost didn’t go out that morning.

Isabella Marie was the kind of pretty you didn’t see right away. The layers of fine muscle and fragile skin hiding the richness of her blood-red cheeks, crisp even in the horrible heat of August. And with that heat came hot headed Calvary men with unlined coat pockets and a hunger for pretty little girls.

She met Major Whitlock three miles outside of town, the local preacher sending her out to their camp with as many baskets as her daddy’s two mules could hold on their hips. She was flushed, the slot of her breastbone slick with afternoon sweat— her riding boots did nothing but slosh around with her pale feet inside, leather no match for Tennessee mountain hidin weather.

Maybe she should’ve dropped ice down her shift. Maybe she should’ve played dead and waited for God to put her on her ass.

The thin brunette was graced with the presence of an even skinner red head the moment Stubborn Ass’s (as she affectionally called her steed in private) hooves entered the temporary camp. The mans hair fell limply in front of his eyes which were slightly sunken, the blue of his irises molting into a starved shade of dust. His lips were worse. Once pink and slightly plump, now skinny and cracked with the less than dusty air.

“Is this the 1st Regiment Calvary? From Texas?” Her voice was strained and feverish, salt dripping off her Cupid’s bow.

The man nodded and offered a hand, “Names Sargent Henry Arquette. Nice to see you Miss, the boys haven’t been able to get any supplies up here for days,” Bella grasped his hand tightly, afraid her unskilled balance would come into play, and forced her weight down to the ground ungracefully, “you’re the sheriffs daughter, right miss?” His smile seemed correct handing off his skinny face, his teeth crooked and off centered, but sweet. She quirked her lip in return.

“Yes Sargent, I seem to be your supply wagon today. There’s more back in town but I was told you wouldn’t be in for a day or so.” Flushed and overdressed, that’s how she felt. Every second.

Henry took in the view of the well fed half breeds and gestured off handedly, something she would come to learn was an action he didn’t even notice he performed. “Day. Days. Who knows until we ration it. These trails are less trails and more raccoon paths. I’m just waiting to see why the hell we’ve been sent so far east to begin with.” He had no recognition what was proper to say in front of the young lady at his side, the year had been sucked dry of any feminine… life, to say lightly. A piece of his brain nudged him for speaking so plainly, but Bella never once looked offended and twitched her head in both sympathy and understanding. She had been raised in these hills. She knew their damnation like the back of her hand. Maybe even the back of her skull.

“I’ve heard about raids up in McMinnville. Bases and such lining up and down the mountain. My brother’s part of the 16th Regiment Calvary up there actually, you know. Things are heating up in our little slice of the world.” The little thing spoke like a sparrow, her nose pointed and soft, the bottom of her front teeth pillowing into her bottom lip. At the age of seventeen she seemed somehow both grounded and unsure.

The south was ripping itself apart. And she— and the Sargent, knew it.

Bella could see the redhead start to comment on her brothers hand me down gossip when a giant of a man— boy? Man? Definitely man, by the looks of his muscled shoulders and high jaw, the darkened cast shifting just under the skin of his cheeks, the low dip of a scar just below his brow— a brow which furrowed, twisted, and arched back up into his tanned forehead when he noticed the mules waiting restlessly, tails swinging behind a girl in a kinder man's idea of a dress and interrupted the lower soldiers train of thought.

“You must be Miss Isabella McCarty. I spoke to your father when we arrived last night.” Clipped and forward were his words, his hand outstretched in front of him, decorated in mis-matched freckles and calluses she could feel pressing into the column of her throat as she placed her small palm in his. “Major Jasper Whitlock, at your assistance.”

No smile graced his face but by God she would witness his lips stretch over his teeth if it was the last thing she ever did.

Still with her hand in his she whispered “You can call me Bella. Or Bella Marie. Or Isabella Marie oh or my mother calls me Belle or sometimes when my father is upset with me he calls me Marie McCarty like my grandmother used to and um..” her tongue had to have swelled to the size of a watermelon in the three seconds it took to look him in the eyes— the swamp green eyes in fact. Eyes the color of duckweed and marigold stems and whatever leaves would stick to the blackberries in the spring.

He laughed. And it sounded like a white flag waving in her insides. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Maybe the preacher was a righteous man after all.

“I like Isabella Marie. Miss Isabella Marie.” Like rain drops on a tin ceiling.

The Arquette boy looked between the two before edging towards the black mules “Any orders where to put these, Major?” Skinny lips. Skinny spine.

Jasper had finally looked up from the strawberry cheeked girl in front of him, released their hands, and knocked his head backwards, towards the other soldiers checking tents and cleaning their own horses.

“Just take em back to the storage tent. Not like it’ll be competing for space.” The Major looked back at his men “Calhoun, Jennings, help Arquette move these rations will you? Make yourself useful for once.��� His voice didn’t have to boom and condense like a rung out air horn, the cool of his vocal cords carried and personally plucked the not yet men from their activities and dragged them towards the group of three. Like some sort of magic act.

Bella was far from resigned. “So Major Whitlock, what would you like me to do?” Hopeful eyes, always searching to please. Or to piss off— as Emmett always scorned.

An upturn of lips flashed through Jaspers face and he looked to the sky for a mere moment “Mind helping me sort out some of my maps back in camp? My backwoods knowledge ain’t as sharp as my Houston kind and you seem like an expert in this area, getting yourself up to us all alone.” Bella’s feet started to move on instinct towards the felted wool tent covering a hundred or so feet behind the large man, but his hand stopped her at the shoulder, “And, if you don’t mind, would you be my guide back to town this evening? I’ve got to scout the path for the boys to pull through by the end of this week.”

She should’ve thought longer about it, linger over his words, the way his tongue flicked over his canines and brushed noticeably at the edge of his front teeth. But she didn’t. Not now. Not when the time it would’ve taken could pick at the carefully constructed wall built specifically for boys with serpent tongues. And lion hands. And bear teeth and… he still waiting for her response.

A shake to her head “Of course Major. If you’ll help me bring the mules back home, you’d be more help to me than I think I’d ever be to you.”

He could taste her self doubt. And he didn’t like it.

A jut of his brow led them through the ragged campsite, broken down cinders coating the bottom of her unusually worn boots, the lace of her dress clashing horribly with the scent of charred flesh and resting wounds. If only she knew a doctor. If only the town still had one.

His tent was one of the stronger ones, every inch placated with the spine of a book or a map binder or a drape of letters. He needed a desk and a real bed and maybe someone to make sure he stayed warm during the mountain nights.

Jaspers hands found a tiny stack of drawn maps and laid them over his now folded lap on the ground. Bella swiftly found her place at his bended knee and ran a finger over the torn edge. “These look older than my father. It doesn’t even mark the trail you follow to town.” The squishy flesh of her thumb traced an invisible oil line through the mountain and deposited itself in a town with seemingly no name, according to the parchment. “That’s home. If you’re following these maps I don’t quite understand how you ever got here.” Her eyes were full, engorged on road markers and faded city names.

Jasper softly nodded, their heads just inches from each other as she leaned in to scour the map. He had barely gotten to the camp they were in, his right hand Henry doing nearly all of the sight work. He’d be a hell of a tracker if he was a bloodhound. The blond almost chucked at the thought of Henry with big floppy mutt ears, yelping at the pretty girl almost in Jasper’s lap.

Her hair was like a chocolate waterfall. The good chocolate that mama got sent to her from her sister up north, the kind that was broken off continuously, piece after piece fed to him and his sisters until nothing was left.

Part of him wanted to see if she tasted as sweet.

He’d blame it on how damn long it’s been since he’s smelled anything other than soured sores and gunpowder. Even if Miss Isabella Marie smelled good enough to eat. Good enough to take like a man starved. And God— Jasper hungered like no other.

“There’s a river through the valley here, if you can find yourself through the woods.” Bella had found a piece of graphite and drawn in the harsh line of a hidden waterway just a mile or so from camp. She looked up at him as she spoke, her eyes warmly whiskey colored through her lashes.

His mouth clenched. “How old are you Miss McCarty?”

She blinked rapidly, like coming out of a daze. “Seventeen.”

Her hand dropped the instrument to the paper and draw up to his knee, the covered bone sharp under her knuckles.

“Do you have a boy at home waiting for you, Miss McCarty?” Hot air blew from his mouth to hers like a heatwave. Like a curse.

Bella’s lips formed a small “No” as she slid her small hand up the Major’s thigh, her singular ring gliding like margarine inch my inch as the seconds ticked by, each breath marking the two closer.

“Do you have a wife, Major?” Only whisper escaped her rosebud mouth, his face turning downwards, noses only separated by spirit.

“I was too busy waiting for you, it seems, Miss Bella.”

Her heart thumped her chest hard enough to make her ears ring.

Bella’s fist jumped from Jasper’s thigh to his army issued button up and crushed his chest to her own, her lips finding purchase slotted against his, the force clinking their front teeth together without care. His hands were gripping the roots of her soft waves, their skulls as close as their skin would let them. She wanted more, more, the heat suffocating the tent from more than the August sun. Her thin fingers slipped easily through the button gaps as his tongue invaded the privacy of her mouth. A horrible demented part of her brain screamed ‘Take, Take, Take. Mark me down and climb into the spaces that were meant to fit just us.’ Her brother had always called her too much of a dreamer. Too much of a poet and a believer and an artist. But God. This man was in her hands and she felt like a masterpiece.

A man she hardly knew.

But somehow, the scrape of his knuckles against her soon to be bare thighs felt like they had known each other at birth. Like Texas and Tennessee were just minutes from each other. As if they were the only bodies in the whole entire war.

Jasper’s hands were of no gentleman’s when he unfastened the ribbons holding her skirt to her waist, the under coat used for riding coming off like silk in his calloused palms. She was moaning into his mouth, the world outside the tent becoming buttery soft and not to be worried about. All there was was Jasper and his fucking mouth moving to her neck and his teeth toying around her jaw.

“Jesus, Major” He chuckled at her swear and rid her completely of every layer but her shift and the wool of her stockings, the small corset she wore becoming just cannon fodder for the mouth and hands of the Cavalryman.

“I love when you call me that, darlin. Wanna hear you scream it.” She had barely gotten open a single button on his shirt before he brushed the maps out of the way and flipped her on her back underneath him, the sway of his curled mane teasing her, the golden wheat just barely out of the reach of her teeth or fingers.

She wanted to use it like reins.

She’d especially like calling him by his rank then.

“You know I—“ her breathing caught the better of her as he lifted her by her thighs and dragged her ass to his kneeled position, his fingers running up her stockings with particular care, each inch another layer to her growing wetness. She didn’t let go of her breath until he had reached the skirting of her underdress, the white cotton nearly see through with the sweat sticking to every inch of her skin. His watery eyes devoured the sight with an indescribable hunger. Like a wolf hanging over a bleeding lamb.

What a happy sacrifice she’d be.

“Are you a good little southern girl, Isabella?” His fingertips brushed just under the fabric, his intent not easily hidden behind his hardened brow.

She came out trembling, she couldn’t tell over excitement or fear. “Yes Sir. No ones ever…” even her mother would blush saying those words.

Jasper finally smiled, sharp and soul quenching, like a mist of rain before a hurricane.

“I’m going to ruin you.” He couldn’t tell her about the wedding playing out behind his eyes or the static electric resonance he felt thinking about how another man would never get to lay a hand on his pretty Isabella.

His fingers slipped over her cunt, the soft curling hair tickling his fingertips. The moist warmth wet his fingers before skirting over her lips. He almost groaned. She was soaked. He had to see what his little Belle looked like in the light.

Jasper’s eyes met Bella’s giant blown out doe ones, her elbows holding up her upper body, trying to anticipate his very next move.

If they were playing chess, he was going to win. And she had always been a sore loser.

The skirt of the shift creased with the heat of his palms against her stomach, the slightly cooler air blowing across her pussy, making Bella suck in a breath through her teeth, her bottom lip becoming stuck under them with practiced strength.

Her knees knocked against Jasper’s hips as he watched the pink of her pussy clench around nothing, her wet little hole puckering and buzzing with the want of something under his trousers. He licked his lips as he had a gathered two fingers at her slit and traced upwards, her breath coming out in pants as he reached her clit, the engorged nub nearly ringing in her ears. A small circle over it make her moan from her throat. Bella had never felt someone else’s touch, she had never realized how much she wanted for it. She never knew how much she wanted Jasper to touch her.

The solider took his time as he brought the pads of his fingers back down to her achingly small hole and gathered some of her slick, the smell of sweat and Bella nearly driving him half insane as he brought a finger to his mouth, his tongue licking her clean off.

If Bella could speak to God directly and have him reply, she’d thank him for the creation of Major Jasper Whitlock.

But all she could do was cry out for more. And more he silently promised to give.

Maybe too much.

He had to stretch her out, the head of his cock wouldn’t fit into her without an orgasm in her, not now at least. Jasper slowly brought his hand back a third time and entered a single finger, her hips nearly bucking against his wrist as he slowly sat himself. A bead of sweat ran off his brow. A second finger partnered with the first after a few pumps, in and out, in and out. The near wetness coated on those fingers alone could bring him to release in his cot. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Isabella I have to—“ “Please Major I need—“

The two looked at each other, their mouths in sync as they sat, their souls intertwining and bundling up into a bramble of wonderful thorns, coy smiles gracing both their faces.

Bella sat up slowly and draped a hand over Jasper’s belt buckle. “May I, Major?” The shorty craftsmanship of the iron buckle became putty under her unskilled hands as he nodded, now without words for the angel in front of him. The belt was off before the two noticed and Jasper brought his issued pants down to his ankles and off with his shoes to rest with the scraps of her dress he had taken off so quickly.

“Do you… always go bare?” The squeak of Bella’s voice made Jasper snicker like the teenage boy he technically still was, the nineteen year old clicking his teeth together and grinning. “Miss McCarty, sometimes underpinnings only get in the way of an army man.” A deep blush settled into her cheeks as she slapped at his chest, his shirt hanging open just slightly as he pushed her back to the floor.

“Shush, Whitlock.”

His smile turned feral as the head of his cock graced the hood of her clit, bouncing just slightly with the breath of their bodies. Jasper marked in his head that this should be a sight to see on their wedding night, not their first night together, but by God was it a beautiful one.

He looked at her as he grasped one of her hips with his right hand and the base of his cock with his left. “Breathe, Belle. Breathe with me, alright?” She nodded her head slowly and brought her own hand to the tent floor, grasping tightly.

Jasper’s hand guided the head carefully over her lips and to her quivering entrance. One buck and he’d tear her to badly to bear. No matter how long it had been… he’d never rush with his Isabella. Not now.

He slowly pushed in, the stretch a burn like no other, Bella’s voice turning from a quick steal of breath to a long sigh, the air being pushed out as he took her in. Inch by inch she devoured him, the heat marking his cock in emotional third degree burns. The sky burned brighter, the colors in his eyes turned clearer. Her hips and her fragile skin and the slip of her cunt was the end of the world and the birth of something entirely new. She grasped his shoulders as he mumbled a slew of impressive praise as he allowed her to adjust and seated himself at the very base of her cervix. Her throat screamed out to him as her nails dug in his back.

A wonderful, wonderful burn.

Bella slipped a hand to Jasper’s hip to push him back, to set any and all pace so that the fire would keep burning. He quickly slotted his face in the clench of her neck and began to move his pale hips, beginning to push and pull within her very tight walls.

The tent was full of grunts and moans and breathy screams he was sure the entirely camp heard. But Jesus Christ he didn’t give a single damn at that very moment. His boys knew to stay out of his shit and they be proven that every second until his angel’s orgasm.

God he wanted to fill her up. Wanted to take all of his cum and bury it deep where the lord intended, leave her leaking and exhausted and full of everything he had. He’d empty his balls in her again and again if it meant the Tennessee flower in his arms would keep him forever.

He wanted her forever.

“Major, deeper, please God please yes YES.” Jasper’s hips were snapping at a rapid pace, his balls slapping against her ass as he drove her into the hard ground. He could feel her tighten up the way he felt the air change around him before a fight broke out, the way a horse steps on a snake without jumping. There was an electricity in the air and the moment Bella tore his head out from her and pulled him into a jaw crushing kiss, he was crumbling at her feet, her pussy clenching and spasming around his cock with enough force to take out a grizzly bear.

She locked her legs around his hips as he all but collapsed into her, his hair sweaty between her fingers as she combed through it as his dick twitched it’s last time inside her belly. Jasper’s own hands found repentance under her ass and stayed there, too tired to remove himself from her heat.

“That ride home is gonna be sweaty, isn’t it?” Her whisper made her snort and bite into the side of her neck as she giggled.

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

“Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[boop-le-snoot]

cupid carries a gun

masterlist • taglist & faq

dark!Bruce Banner x named!Reader. Rated R.

Dr. Banner is a serial killer known as the Doctor and Bailey has his soulmark. He escapes imprisonment and meets his soulmate. ~2,2k words. Serial killer fluff??

[no y/n, no 'you', no reader description, race/age/body type neutral, only first name]

This is more of a concept I wrote in an hour than an actual fic. I think it would make a good multi-chapter, but really, my hands are full now and I just needed to get this weird dream off my chest. Yes, I had a dream he was a serial killer and I was his soulmate 💀🖐🏻 I need to ease up on true crime shows istg...

St. John's was suffering a nasty collective psychosis. That would be the only logical explanation Bailey is willing to accept for the jittery, jerky way everybody is behaving. Some of it could be attributed to the armed guards roaming the halls and scaring the patients - but in America, a gun slung over the shoulder shouldn't invoke such a reaction from people.

Only select few know what these people are there for, anyways. Most hospital population is clueless, only vaguely perceiving the sense of dread those harbouring the knowledge seem to carry around. People are easily scared - the thought doesn't leave Bailey's head her whole shift.

She, however, knows exactly what is happening. She's good at her job, brilliant even, nerves made of purest steel and bedside manner perfectly compassionate and tender. It doesn't come as a surprise that she is the one that got chosen to handle the problematic, uncooperative patients.

The bar is high, and this time - neigh impossible. A man so dangerous, so volatile, it required the sheriff to dispatch their town's squadron of special forces - not that was anything but a slight setback for the Doctor. The halls of this hospital will be forever marred with their blood, will forever be haunted by the echoes of their screams abruptly cutting off with a wet squelch.

Bailey thought she'd done her part to protect the innocents. Her colleagues, young women just like her (they're not, Bailey's mind whispers), all safely locked away in a storage closet for the cops to find. There are no windows and He won't see or hear them... If they're smart.

There he is, the man everybody is savagely afraid of. He is everything and nothing she had imagined - Doctor Bruce Banner is on the shorter side, stocky and sickly pale in his hospital issue pajamas, the bluish tint to his skin contrasted by dark crimson stains of blood on the rancid green cotton of his clothes.

The axe in his hands is held firmly but clumsily - Bailey's sure it wouldn't have been his weapon of choice should he had been given one. A choice. She swallowed the unease that spread all over her determination like mold, seeing his eyes, wild and crazy, land on the crook of her arm - where his mark laid, bright red and angry, as if it had been carved into her flesh mere days ago.

"Are you, perhaps, in need of a nurse, doctor Banner?" Bailey inquired softly, fingertips shaking, as the man crossed the space between them with short, powerful strides. The woman's stance widened, involuntary shivers running through her bones at the unexpected tenderness coming from him - Dr. Banner's palms gently wrapped around her arm, warm, chapped lips touching the angry, red soulmark near the crook of her elbow.

"It's been so long since I had a nurse," the man's mutter was barely audible. His eyes, the warmest brown she'd ever seen, met Bailey's wide, shining ones, for her to discover no trace of the madness she was told should be there. Bailey smiled.

As the hospital building grew smaller in the rear view mirror, so did Bailey's anxiety, paving way to excitement and muted curiosity. Her mother always had told that fate had a way of intervening when it was needed - and her mom had oftentimes taken up the role onto herself, moving them out of the state when Bailey's soulmark began to appear on dead people's bodies, burned or cut into skin as a signature. Bailey was not old enough to understand what it meant, back then, but she'd always been a clever girl.

With her first mobile device, she figured out why her mother strictly prohibited her from speaking about it, why her mother always kept a stash of large bandaids to cover it should Bailey be required to remove her long-sleeve shirt.

Only Bailey's physician knew. She'd expected terror, disgust - or even pity, but Dr. Strange always kept his mouth and eyes shut. As Bailey grew older, blossomed into a fine young woman, she thought she saw envy leak into his chiseled features - but Dr. Strange was as quiet and cynical as ever.

As long as nobody tried to separate them, it would be fine. A small smile stretched her plush lips, hand squeezing the one holding hers with giddiness creeping into her youthful features. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed an expression of curious tranquility on Dr. Banner's- Bruce's face as his eyes stayed firmly on the road as the radio crackled static in-between songs.

"Penny for your thoughts?" The man she'd grown to crave and fear, his salt and pepper curls bouncing with every pothole the car hit; his warm hand, larger than hers by a stretch, provided comfort she hadn't known she needed.

"Where to, doc?" The woman couldn't hold back the anticipation. She wanted to hold him, to be close - closer than her small, cramped cheap car allowed them to be.

"I have some friends waiting for me," the man announced, as if he hadn't spent the last five years in a maximum security prison. Not that it mattered to Bailey - but knowing there was no way back from this, Bruce's so-called friends became a point of doubt to the young woman. The doctor noticed it, his responding smile both dangerous and comforting, all sharp canines and moist lips. "You know them, baby. Dr. Strange is a colleague of mine and Tony Stark is a great friend."

Bailey's eyebrows rose, mild disbelief caught somewhere in her trachea as she attempted to clear her throat. Her family physician and the businessman rumoured to be the largest crime boss of their side of the pond. Suddenly, Strange's long glances and penetrating stares acquired a new meaning, a sense of indignation seeping into Bailey's newly found joy. "And he never said anything," the longing, the countless nights spent studying every publicly available material on Dr. Banner, the killer surgeon that terrorised the Tri-State area burned acrid in her chest.

"He told everything to me," Bruce's remark stung if only from the fact that he'd known about her all along. "Who, do you think, pushed for your transfer to St. John's?" Bruce's smile glinted a little wicked in the meager light of passing-by streetlights as the evening sun simmered down to a rest below the horizon. "I don't actually have cancer," the second remark was more optimistic, spoken hopefully, with another gentle squeeze to her hand.

Bailey puffed out a breath she didn't know she was holding. The puzzle pieces slowly started to arrange themselves, revealing a bigger picture than the one before. She wanted to be mad - mad at Stephen, for not saying anything; mad at Bruce, for getting himself caught years prior. And the anger at her own mother, for taking away her right to stand by her soulmate, for all the countless fights and nights spent locked up in her room.

Bailey had been treated like a monster as soon as he soulmark showed up - and after so much time spent trying to show she wasn't one, perhaps, it was time to face the truth. Perhaps, it was time to show them how much of a monster she could be, if they were so unhappy before.

Gravel flew under the wheels of Bailey's beaten up Toyota Corolla, sending little pebbles to bang noisily against the bumper and the stone flower beds surrounding the driveway to a large two-story mansion. Two cars stood in from of it with two men leaning each against their own vehicle.

The shorter figure was well-dressed, suit obviously bespoke and expensive, sunglasses reflecting the headlights of her Toyota even from a distance away. The taller figure stood out with familiarity, a lit cigarette freely dangling between the finger of his gesturing hand - Dr. Strange and his long, sculpted legs, Bailey could recognise even from a mile away.

Bruce parked, killing the engine and exiting the car with a free, lopsided grin carelessly thrown in Bailey's direction. Fumbling with the lock of her seatbelt, the woman's eyes latched onto the figure of her soulmate eagerly embracing the shorter man, their reunion evidently long-awaited and happy. Stephen's coarse laugh penetrated the interior of the car as the wacky passenger side seatbelt finally let Bailey free.

Three pairs of eyes bore into her body still wearing the scrubs from the hospital - one laughing, Strange was amused; one curious - none other than Tony Stark and his shameless smirk had made an appearance at their first getaway destination; and Bruce, looking so damn proud and lovesick. The grin tugged at Bailey's lips as the presence of the other men barely registered in her elevetaed emotional state.

"Damn, Brucie-bear, lucky you," Tony Stark wolf-whistled, clapping the doctor on the shoulder and receiving a fond eyeroll in return. Those two really were good friends. "Well, I won't hold you two back from getting to know each other better," Stark wiggled his eyebrows salaciously. "We can talk business tomorrow," with that, Stark waltzed over to Bailey, snatching the keys to her car out of her hands with a quick flick of his wrist. "Can't have a car allegedly containing a runaway prisoner on my property, now can I? Don't worry, babycakes, my people will take care of it. Bruce is family. You better treat him well, or else," the river of words flowed from Tony's mouth, causing the surprised Bailey to simply freeze in place and withstand his rambling, surrounded by the smell of whiskey and Stark's expensive cologne.

Despite his easy tone and the relaxed demeanor, Bailey knew a dangerous man when saw one. Tony Stark was not to be fucked with. "Yeah," she mumbled, scampering for the trunk to take out the duffle bag she carried around everywhere - just in case. Just in case her serial-killing, incarcerated-for-life soulmate would somehow found his way to her.

Tony looked at the spectacle with amusement. "You won't need your ID, sweetheart. All of that is going to be taken care of, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Duly noted," Bailey couldn't help the annoyed frown at Tony's frivolousness. Her government ID was the last thing on her mind. She wasn't stupid, she knew her mother would go to the cops as soon as she saw the news. "I have my own business to attend to. Might need a hand," the realization came with the dull thud of the trunk being slammed shut.

Tony's eyebrows rose; Bruce approached her with caution, wrapping an arm around her waist from behind. "Is it urgent?"

"Her mother knows about their connection," Strange piped up, glowing ember of the cigarette flying somewhere over the car. The sound of a lighter followed immediately, another dot of shiny red standing out in the twilight. "Don't worry, Bailey, she's detained and sedated for the time being," he offered with a crooked smirk, nearly no trace of the quiet man who bandaged her boo-boos when she was a child.

"You planned this," Bailey observed, fighting the dread crawling up her spine. The realization - she will never step back, will never be able to escape this life - set in. She was unprepared, having acted on a whim, prepared to live on the run but not within an arm's reach of her previous life yet unable to resume it.

"A long time ago," Strange nodded. "You always were a clever girl, Bailey. It is delightful to finally you where you belong," he smiled at Bruce in earnest.

Bailey wondered what else was going on in the sleepy town of hers. What kind of atrocities were committed daily under her nose, by the very people she knew and trusted. There was so much evil in this world.

But not Bruce. He could never be evil, even as he cut the hearts out of the men that had been treating those around them as objects. Bruce merely made them what they should've been; the greed, the infidelity - what use did those men have for their hearts? The Doctor was merciful and true: he never caused his patients undue pain and always, always left them in a state they were true to themselves. It wasn't his fault so many of his patients were heartless beasts for men.

Those clever hands, the same hands that brought the world at his feet, brought Bailey at his - voluntarily so. Their bodies hot, impatient for each other, with their blood singing a song of lust and longing, both of them hidden from the world by the heavy velvet curtains of Tony's estate - it was hellfire in heaven.

No amount of time too long as Bruce's teeth closed around Bailey's jugular, sinking into the flesh tenderly, all the while her nails penetrated the skin of his back; both drew blood, content to drown in it and wash their sins away with it. Heaven and Hell were merely words for the two, anyway.

Bruce Banner taglist:

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @pilloclock @sapphicnoodle69

[bokutoslittlebird]

Cupid’s Arrow + Red Hot Valentine, Bailey’s Irish Cream + purple twist

Includes — Bokuto Kōtarō, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu, Meian Shūgo

Warnings: religious themes/sacrilege, drugs/aphrodisiac, sexy demons, virgin!reader, corruption, nun and demons AU, names are not used

A poor decision on your part, you believe it was. Letting in the kind man who seemed much too large and much too suave into your haven, the sanctuary of the church. With his bright gold eyes, you believed him to be sincere as he spun his tale, his enraged lover kicking him out of the house in the middle of the night. Never could you turn away someone in need, but you soon regretted that decision, that softness, when he asked for some water. “It tastes weird,” he had said. You tried it for yourself, indeed noticing the saltiness and bitterness of the clear liquid. His next words stunned you, “do you like it?”

Now, upon the altar you lay as the man from before is no longer man and he is joined by friends — beings that look just like him. A demon cannot enter the holy grounds unless openly welcomed, in which they have been. You’ll soon join them in their corruption, their hellish forms and their burning blood. A virgin, you had been, but the sinful acts of a beast with curly black hair and dark eyes took that from you, splitting you open as your screams echoed around the stone walls. Thunder boomed, lightning lighting the room from the windows as another one — with dyed blond hair — positioned himself behind you, joining his friend in taking away your virgin innocence.

The effects of the water had settled, your insatiable thirst for more and more growing until you were whining and squirming on their cocks, not having enough. It isn’t until the man — no, demon, from before and his friend are by your side, large and thick cocks demanding attention. You eagerly welcome the one with dark hair, lapping at his hot skin, almost burning, while wrapping a hand around the one with golden eyes that seem to have a fire behind them now. His own hand grasps at the rosary ‘round your neck, the only item from your attire to not be ruined, and pulls as you choke and gag on the cock in your mouth. Your tongue kills out as he does, the hot skin touching the tip of your tongue as it flicks against the slit. It’s the final straw for him.

Hot, white, and thick liquid splatters across your face, droplets dripping to the cavern of your mouth where your tongue stays out. The one behind you has the grip on your rosary tightening, pulling you back to have your mouth wrapped around his swollen and hard cock. The demons in your cunt and ass have been mostly silent, growling and talking to each other as they split you open and drill their shape into you. When the one finally groans, spilling into your mouth as his eyes roll back, then do you feel your own high rising. Knot twisting and turning, the twitching and tensing of your thighs has the one with black hair thrusting faster, keeping your leg over his friend’s shoulder. His friend keeps his teasing pace and rolls his hips, ensuring you feel each and every inch of his cock inside you.

When the brute of the pair finally stills himself, burning liquid filling you up and warming, do you finally find peace with your own orgasm. It’s harsh and world shattering, a pleasureful sin you’ve been forced to give up for the church. So pleasing, so good, you milk the demon for all his worth, his long tongue licking at your sweaty skin while you do so. The saliva he spreads on your skin is even hotter, sticky and warming your flesh as the other demon pulls himself free from your ass, his clawed hand finishing himself. More white liquid splashes against your skin, hot and sticky as it covers your stomach and chest, oozing down your breasts and over the nipples.

“The rest will have their turns when we get back,” one of them says. The demon grins, sharp teeth glinting in the faint light from the lightning flashes, as his hand manages to open a hole beneath the altar. “Don’t want to disturb the scenery, you know,”

And then you’re in the pits of hell, eager for more.

[spartanxhunterx]

Bug And Shell(d): Late night run

Nino's fingers clicked away at his mouse and keyboard, headphones perched atop his head as he listened to one of his soundtracks while he was organising other soundtracks and mixes on his computer.

It was late, very late, judging by the moonlight that was leaking its way between the curtains, attempting to illuminate the areas in which his computer screen could not.

Despite the time, he wasn't tired.

No, he was anxious, nervous. His mind was running a hundred miles and hour. Thought after thought racked through his brain, repeating what memories he had of the fight with Dark Cupid, with Kim, and lady Wi-Fi.

Valentine's day had been just a few days ago, while it had been quiet since then, he couldn't help but feel like he was missing something. Ladybug had told him what had happened of course, how could she not?

He, Carapace, had fallen victim to an Akuma's power and had been turned against Ladybug, his partner. Pushing his glasses up Nino pinched the bridge of his nose, knuckles pressing into his eyes slightly, before sighing and collapsing back in his chair.

Wayzz would probably point out that he had fallen prey to Lady Wi-Fi too but that was different in it's own way. When it came to Alya's akumatization he wasn't under her control, just... Stuck and he had been protecting Ladybug unlike with Dark Cupid where he had gone against her.

He was her protector, Not her assailant.

How much harder had he made that Akuma? How many innocent people got hurt because Ladybug was dealing with him? How badly could it have ended if Ladybug hadn't found some way to free him from the Akuma?

He was greatful for whatever she did, even if that was the one detail she wouldn't tell him. But he didn't want to put her in that situation ever again, had to fight by her side... Always.

Sitting up properly Nino reached out to pull his Mug of Tea towards him, bringing it up to his lips slowly to savour the taste.

Ever since he had almost been akumatised Wayzz had suggested he take up several calming routines. Breathing exercises were one such thing, Meditation another and even calming herbal teas like Chamomile and lavender.

Although he had only used them once since getting them, tonight being the second, he could tell how useful they were. They helped him to relax his muscles and the warmth in his stomach was quite welcome.

But tea could only help so much to ease his nerves, he needed something else to take his mind off it all. Something to drain his excess energy without possibly waking everyone up.

But it's not like he could just begin doing push ups on his floor now could he?

Sighing he put his Mug back down, setting it near Wayzz, Who was taking his time to eat through the bowl of chopped fruit as he relaxed near him.

"Something on your mind?... Dude?" Nino snorted humorously at Wayzz' attempt to use modern slang as he removed his headphones. Not that he did it badly, just that he sounded so uncertain of himself that It was almost comical.

"Well... Sort of little dude." He gently rubbed Wayzz' head, being mindful of his antenna. "Just... Dark Cupid, or at least the thought that I could have made that a lot worse then it was."But

" But you didn't, Ladybug fixed it all in the end. "

He sighed, moving his fingers to rest on Wayzz' shell. "It's not that simple Dude. What if Ladybug hadn't won? hadn't fixed me? What if I took her miraculous?" He waited a moment for Wayzz to answer but only saw his calculating face, he could see the gears turn in his head.

"We would have lost Little dude. Simple as that, Hawkmoth cares far more for Ladybugs miraculous then mine... Your miraculous." Nino's fingers fiddled with the bracelet around his wrist, even in his PJ's with the other bands taken off he couldn't bear to part with the Miraculous.

It's weight was comforting in its own weird way.

"Indeed, but for what reason is... Unfathomable," Wayzz floated up before plopping himself down on Nino's shoulder. "What's important is we keep up the fight and protect Ladybug, so he may never get the Miraculous."

" Which isn't easy when I'm mind controlled Wayzz." He deadpanned, tired of beating around the bush. Wayzz' face contorted then he tilted his head to the side in thought.

"I see... Perhaps this is a conversation to have with Ladybug then?"

Yeah, he could. If he knew how to get hold of her outside of Akuma attacks. His best bet was to wait for the next attack, then ask her if she was free to talk. Although it worked last time, he figured that was because it was an urgent matter, over now which was just a few small worries.

"So, are we going?" Nino blinked, looking up at Wayzz.

"What?"

" If you wish, we can go out now, try to find Ladybug so you can speak to her. " Shaking his head Nino stood from his chair stretching before reaching for his Mug again.

"I doubt she'll just be out there, we both have civilian lives, besides its..." Looking at the time on his screen he let in a sharp breath between his teeth. "Well eleven forty seven, she's probably asleep." He took a sip of his tea, trying to prolong the conversation.

" Plausibly but you are not, even if you don't find her, a nice run will do some good for you. " Well, Nino couldn't argue with that logic, he rubbed the back of his neck in thought.

It wouldn't hurt to go on a run, exhaust himself enough to maybe get a few hours of sleep before school started. Maybe give him a reason to go to The Dupain-Cheng bakery for a coffee and breakfast, not that he needs a reason to go.

"I... Alright, wait here a second."

Wayzz watched as his chosen left the room, picking up a cut up grape he took a bite before chewing on it. The small Kwami could see the lights outside the room turn on from where it peaked in from under the door. He only had to wait a few minutes before his chosen returned, a steaming hot thermos in hand.

probably filled with more tea. He floated up as Nino shut the door. "Ready to go?" Shaking his head Nino motioned for him to wait before checking his curtains to ensure no-one could peak in.

Flicking his light on he placed his thermos down. "Alright, now I'm ready."

" Then say the magic words. "

"Wayzz, Shell On."

Feeling the magic wash over him Nino brought in a deep breath, relaxing as he felt his heart rate increase in preparation for a fight. He hoped that his light had covered the flash of light from his transformation, he didn't want to be caught out by something as stupid as that.

Flicking his light back off he picked up his thermos and switched his computer to sleep mode. Peaking out his curtains he surveyed the windows and balconies of the other house's as he attached his thermos to his hip, just in case there were other late nighters about.

Feeling satisfied that he couldn't see anything he opened his window wide enough to climb his way out of it. Standing on the ledge precariously he leaped to the close by Lamppost, catching onto the pole before climbing up to the top.

his boots left behind scruff marks that blended in with the others he had been leaving there. Kneeling down atop the post he scanned the road below, seeing it bare and empty. It was strange, to see Paris' streets so abandoned yet know that the city still held life inside its many many buildings.

Tensing his legs he prepared himself before committing to jump to the closest by Lamppost, a jump which he could just barely make on his own. He didn't slow down as he continued his movements by jumping to the closest rooftop, hitting it a little hard.

Bleeding speed by transitioning into a roll he came to a stop, he gave the area another look around before setting off on his run.

his feet pounded against the solid concrete of the buildings, the wind whipped his hood slightly and the cool night air burned at his lungs.

He didn't pay too much attention to where he was going, he just let his feet take him to whichever part of Paris they so desired to travel to.

There was something about traveling this way that was... Uniquely satisfying, he couldn't put his finger on it but he knew there would be little that could compare to running across Paris' skyline Keith nothing but the wind to accompany him.

It wasn't the feeling of freedom, more... The knowledge that he had a higher role in this city. He was one of the city's only two defenders, it was a large amount of responsibility. And he was honoured to hold that responsibility, out of everyone in the entire city it was him, he was chosen to be Carapace.

Now that he knew what that was like... He couldn't imagine not being Carapace, he couldn't imagine not having the power to protect people.

Stopping on a slightly isolated rooftop he moved to the edge, leaning against the billboard as he looked down to the street below. Still the task before him was massive and he was only one person, so he knew he had to be careful.

There was little room for mistakes in all of this.

If Ladybug lost her miraculous, they would lose, no more cure, no more purifying Akuma's. If he lost his... Then he wouldn't be able to defend Ladybug, Paris or even his family.

Whoever gave him the miraculous would probably give someone else a different one... Assuming that there was both more miraculous and someone who had them.

but Nino refused to believe that someone hadn't put the box in his house on the first day of school.

"I think I'm seeing smoke." His arm slipped from where he was leaning, hands grasping at the beams of the billboard before he felt more slender hands grab his arm and pull him back onto the roofs surface.

Turning around he came face to face with Ladybug, who looked both worried and slightly amused. Mostly worried though. "Damn Bug. Give a guy a warning would you."

He chuckled slightly as he pretended to dust himself off, doing his best to not look at his partner. He did not want her to see his face all red from embarrassment.

"I am glad you're here though." Moving over to a large air conditioning unit he hoisted himself up and say on it. "Although, how'd you know I was here?"

" Well... I... Ugh, I saw you? "

Raising an eyebrow he looked her over, seeing how her shoulders were tense, her ankles close together and arms folded defensively in front of her. As if she was trying to make herself smaller then she already was.

He bit back the mocking remark he could have said about her already short stature before nodding thoughtfully.

"I guess that makes sense, I wasn't exactly trying to hide." And he wasn't but he was under the assumption that no-one would be in the right place at the right time to see him. But if someone had to see him?

well he was glad it was her.

"So," She swayed slightly from foot to foot and Nino realised that this was one of those rare occasions where Ladybug wasn't always flying. "Did you have something to say?... Or?"

"Hmm..." He looked up from where he was pulled his thermos off his side before realization dawned on his face. "Oh right, yeah. I wanted to ask you a few things." Tapping the space next to him he waited for her to join him.

after a moment of hesitation did she do so and the two of them looked over the Paris skylines.

"I wanted to talk about valentines day," he chose to ignore her flinch , he didn't want to think of the implications of that. "Cause it got me thinking. If an Akuma can mind control me once, it possible it could happen again."

Pouring his tea into the thermos lid he held it up for a moment before deciding to pass it to his partner.

Accepting the drink she hummed in thought. "Anything's possible, we don't even know what Hawkmoths limits are and all his Akuma are different."

Bringing the cup to her lips she took a sip before recoiling away. Carapace's free hand shot out to grab the wayward cup and although some of the tea split on the rooftop, at least the cup wasn't thrown.

"You alright bug? Is it too hot? Or are you lactose intolerant or something?"

"That's not coffee!" He blinked as Ladybug turned away from him in an attempt to hide her blush from him, his hand was still holding onto hers and she could feel the butterflies in her stomach.

Nino was quiet for all of a moment before a chortle escaped his lips, said chortle grew into a full blown laughter that only caused Ladybugs checks to darken to the same shade as her entire outfit.

"What's so funny!?" Smacking him on the shoulder seemed to bring him down to earth again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, " Freeing the cup from her grip he took it back and refilled it before offering it again, which she took."I've just got this mental image in my head of you tweaked out on coffee, flying around sporadically and randomly all like a hummingbird."

He took a sip from his thermos before letting a large smile grace his face. "You remind me of my friend, amazing girl, a little small but if you give her coffee... Well, she's your responsibility after that."

"She get hyper or something?" He heard something in her voice but couldn't quite identify it.

" Normally she's good after her first coffee but after like the third, " he let out a low chuckle before taking a sip of his tea. "Well the last time that happened she challenged the resident jock to a race, she collapsed asleep halfway to the finish line."

Both winced in sympathy before they nursed their drinks a little more. Soaking in the silence of the night, it was so much more... Peaceful then the daytime, even with the slight ominous undertone that the night carried.

Leaning against his shoulder, Ladybug kept her eyes on her hands. He didn't flinch or shift away from her and after a moment his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about? before I interrupted you with the coffee thing."

He went to answer, he really did but one look at his partners bluebell eyes, seeing the worry in them, was enough to push the question to the back of his mind. To leave it there and ignore it, these where his problems, not his partners.

"You know what? I forgot." He'd deal with it... Alone.

Snuggling into his side a little more Ladybug let her head lean on him. Carapace himself decided to lay the two of them down into their back for more comfort.

after he removed his shield of course.

"You ever wonder why we were chosen?" Ladybugs words were filled with such curiosity that he found himself wondering the same thing.

what could he, Nino Lahiffe, done to possibly earn himself the responsibility to be one of Paris' Protectors, over the literal millions of other people.

Why wasn't an adult chosen? Why not someone more experienced at fighting? Why them?

Why not them?

"Constantly, But, I think... It because, deep down, we're good people. Willing to do the right thing, not for ourselves, but everyone else. "

Ladybug snorted and he felt like he was being mocked. "That was ridiculously cheesy, but probably true." She sighed, one of her arms moving to rest on his chest as she turned towards him slightly. "I couldn't imagine standing by and watching all this happen if I wasn't Ladybug. "

He couldn't imagine being a bystander either. Perhaps in another time, he wouldn't have a choice but right now? He didn't wish anyone else to be put in the danger the two of them faced.

"Same." He tightened his hold on Ladybug as her body shifted , just in case she fell. "I have your back, always. "

"I'll always have your back Too Carapace." She spoke slowly, lightly. As if something was dragging her voice down.

He blinked slowly a few times, unable to bring himself to talk just yet. They were fine.

The next time he blinked he was greeted to the peaking light of the sun over Paris' horizon. He breathed in the cold morning air, throat dry and limbs asleep.

His partner was curled up to his side.

He'd had fallen asleep, On top of a remote rooftop on nothing but his super suit and he knew he had nothing but PJ's on under that. And... Oh no, Ladybug might even be the same, if she popped out after seeing him pass whenever she lived.

"Well, Fuck."

-

Nino stumbling into the Dupain-Cheng bakery was not an uncommon occurrence for the Dupain-Cheng parents to witness, Sabine smiled sympathetically at the boy as she began to prepared his regular coffee order before he had even gotten halfway across the shop floor.

"Morning Mrs. Dupain-Cheng," He covered his mouth as he let out a yawn, half leaning against the counter as he tried to keep his head up.

"Oh dear Nino," Sabine shook her head slightly amused , "You look tired, you stay up on your computer again? "

Nino shrugged slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Something like that... Can't remember much."

The older woman clicked her tongue as she finished putting Nino's coffee into a to-go cup. "Lack of sleep results in poor memory Nino," Sabine placed his coffee down before him and brought her hand to his cheek , a gesture that had become more common. "Get some sleep tonight. Even if you have to come here to get it, ok?"

Nino snorted humorously as his left hand raised to meet Sabine's. "I don't have a problem sleeping at home, I just g-" he let out another yawn. "Get distracted."

Sabine nodded as she pushed his coffee into his hands. "Of course, go sit down for a minute until Marinette comes down, I'll bring your order."

Nino blinked slightly, Sabine could see the gears turning in his head and had to stifle a laugh. "But I didn't..." He trailed off, unable to find the right words to say.

"No, you didn't, but we know what you like and you need to sit for a few minutes, besides, the schools just there." Giving his cheek a gentle tap Sabine moved away to begin bagging up two bags of pastries.

It took Nino's brain a moment to switch gears but once he did he moved to the closest table and sat down before folding his arms and leaning his head down onto them. Coffee momentarily ignored.

"You know, This place is very homely." He quietly hummed in agreement, even as Wayzz popped out of the side of his hood to peak at the rest of the bakery. "Its not very surprising that you fell for Marinette, she's the embodiment of all the sugar in here."

Nino tensed slightly at the voice at his ear, feeling heat pool into his cheeks. "Wayzz." He spoke in a low whisper, to not draw attention from anyone else.

"You say something Nino?" His knuckles tightened and he felt his nail bite into his palms. Fighting off the blush he raised his head before resting it on his closed hand, seeing Sabine next to him holding onto a bag, which she swiftly put down.

"Just... Groaning, I'm tired." He rubbed his eyes from under his glasses before pushing himself up. Feeling his back ache from the awkward place he had slept last night. Who knew you could fall asleep on a random roof but he supposed the tea was also a large benefactor to the position they found themselves in, in the morning.

"Drink up," She tapped his coffee cup. " if you're too tired to stay awake in school all day, come and have a nap during your lunch break."

"Will do Mrs. Dupain-Cheng. "

"Sabine dear. Now eat up, you won't have any energy for the day if you don't eat anything." Giving a hum he opened up the pastry bag to remove one of the blueberry muffins.

Slowly he munched on it, occasionally he would hold it slightly closer to his chest to allow Wayzz a chance to take a bite for himself. He really hoped he wasn't giving the guy a sweet tooth. He could handle Wayzz getting through several bowls of fruit a day, he doubted he could supply him with sweet treats all day everyday.

Especially since he had to cut back on his DJ gigs after an Akuma made him late for one of his scheduled gigs.

That had been a pain to explain. The chair in front of him groaned in protest and his eyes slowly lifted up to meet Marinette's. She looked, absolutely, dead to the world. There was nothing but tiredness and self hatred in those eyes.

"You stay up all night?" He drawled out before gulping back his coffee. Funny, he nurses teas but drinks coffee like his life depends on it.

"Sort ah..." Opening her mouth resulted in a large yawn to escape her. It was cute. "Had a few ideas come to mind and I just..." She's waved her hands sluggishly, her own cup of coffee sloshing around in her hand. "Had to draw them. "

"Please tell me you got a little sleep dudette." Reaching into the bag Nino pulled out a pistachio macaroon before taking a bite.

"Did you?" He was too tired to see the light pink that dusted her face as his eyes dropped to the table. Yes, he did get sleep.

But he got sleep on top of an air conditioning unit while dressed up as a turtle and hugging his superhero partner. That was not something he wanted to explain.

"Eh, some. Fell asleep on my keyboard, you know?"

"At least I was on something comfortable."

Flicking the small chunk of Macaroon he had in hand he watched as it flew between them before hitting Marinette dead centre of her forehead. She flinched in surprise, she squinted her eyes at the boy across from her as she brushed off the crumbs.

"Lahiffe."

"Dupain-Cheng."

The two of them stared each other down until Marinette let out a stiffened laugh. "You, you sound like Chloé."

" Ew, End me now. "

"I can go get a bag of flour if you like," She pointed over to behind the counter, but he was struggling to get the image of Marinette lifting heavy flour bags out of his head.

"If that's how I gotta go out, so be it." Wouldn't that be a way to go? Not by an Akuma or accident but by his crush, quite literally, crushing him.

Slowly Marinette pulled her own croissant out of her bag of food, never breaking eye contact with him as she bit down into it. The two of them sat there in a comfortable silence as they ate. If they where going to be late, Sabine would tell them.

It was now, in his barely awake state, that he realised how much more confident Marinette had become lately. Both in and out of school. No doubt it was caused by Alya, while he had no problem with it, he did wonder why Marinette had never let him and Kim deal with Chloé all those years ago.

Sure, Kim's view had been... Altered, over the years. As he had learned on Valentine's but back when Chloé started to be a brat they were more than willing to set her straight. Marinette, holder of his heart, had not wanted that. Had preferred peace. And here they were, Chloé as the class bully, Marinette just getting her confidence back, him barley able to stand up against someone when he wasn't in the suit.

Both of them were slowly unlearning such behaviours, ready to become the people they should have been so long ago. But they'd get there... Eventually.

-

"Mari..." He fiddled with his hands as they rested on the table, fingers intertwining. His head was slumped and he could barely keep his eyes open now that the coffee had passed out of his system.

Said girl hummed from behind him, her own coffee boost having bled out of her some time ago too.

"Is it... Is it too late to get that nap at your place?"

Class would end and lunch would begin soon, he was certain he wouldn't be able to make it the rest of the day without a little sleep. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng would make sure they weren't late and had lunch still.

it was one of the many reasons why he loved the Dupain-Cheng's.

"No such thing as, Too late for a nap, in my eyes." Marinette yawned into her hands and he had to fight off the blush at the image of her face scrunching up cutely. Like the way her nose would create up or her... OK, shaking his head he tried to ignore those thoughts.

The bell ringing hardly fazed them and both were stuck in there seats for a while longer. Long Enough that the two of them had to wave off Alya and Adrien respectively.

"So... You just wanna crash on the floor of the bakery or actually get to the sofa?"

Both huffed in tired amusement, her neither made a move to get up from there chairs. Too lethargic to even attempt to stand up, let alone get all the way to Mari's house.

"We having a sleep pile?" Nino jerked slightly at the voice that was right behind him, a quick peek showed Kim standing on the step above his tables level, looking down at the two of them. His bag was hanging off his back and he had a look of excitement in his eyes.

The sleep piles were something the three of them had done for so long, Nino couldn't remember a time when they didn't do it. It was simole, if two, or more, of them were tired they'd go to whoever's home was closest. Then collapse into a pile somewhere comfortable and just, sleep.

They'd done it since they were kids, they were going to keep doing it until they couldn't.

"Yes," Marinette yawned. "And if you help us get to mine... You can join too. "

"Yes!" Kim pumped his arm as the two of them groaned from his volume, if they didn't get some sleep soon they'd have killer headaches .

And Nino did not want to fight an Akuma with a headache. Quicker than anything Kim picked up their bags before slinging them over his shoulders.

Nino was halfway through attempting to stand when he felt Kim's hands grab him before he was suddenly slung over one of his shoulders, very disgracefully.

"Kim!" And judging by the head of dark hair, Marinette was slung over his other shoulder too. She was at least able to put up a little bit of a fight, just for a moment, before she slumped and let Kim take them away.

This was not the first time Kim had done this to them, so some people weren't that surprised to see it happening again. Although most were still surprised to see the jock carrying two of his classmates like sandbags.

They were two tires to really care about people looking, too tired to answer the questions sent their way. Even too tired to properly Greet Sabine when Kim got them through the bakery doors.

Much to Sabine and Tom's amusement.

Nino only snapped out of his haze for long enough to notice that Kim had taken to being their pillow, again, and that Marinette was leaning into his collar as his arms wrapped around her. Kim's arms were wrapped around both of them and someone had covered them in a blanket.

For one fleeting moment, Nino believed he was six again, back when things were so much simpler. Back to when he was just Nino, Not Carapace, Not an older brother, Not... Well, he didn't want to think about that last one.

Pulling Marinette closer to him he embraced her warmth as he dozed off, at least this time, he wouldn't wake up on some random rooftop in the middle of nowhere.

or maybe he would... You never knew when you were with Kim.