#everything sharp says out of his usual character instantly sends me

[tracybirds]

Hello!

Loving your responses to the sickness prompts so far!!

Wondered if you might come up with something for Careful Care with John as Character A. Dealer's choice for Character B.

Please and thank you.

:)

We'll pretend it hasn't been a couple of *ahem* months since I got these - but thank you for your patience and the late night inspiration <33

careful care: it’s hard for[character A] to accept help. [character B] knows which care methods are “acceptable”. 

--

Another anomaly.

EOS catalogued the newest data point, the slow trend away from the norm growing more evident with each passing hour.

It wasn’t yet enough to confront John, but the data flooded in as he coughed, bracing himself against the wall.

EOS remembered the more colloquial term from Gordon – ‘hacking up a lung’ did seem more appropriate for the situation in front of her, despite her dislike of figurative speech.

“Ugh,” John said, grimacing slightly. His posture was slumped, his eyes bleary. He barely glanced in her direction as she settled in front of him and lowered the array.

“John.”

“Don’t,” he said, cutting her off instantly.

“I just–”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She kept her display a bland white and her tone neutral.

“There’s tea in the galley.” No reason, no judgment. “We are monitoring three weather systems and five major engineering projects. No sign of current danger.”

You should rest. Words she didn’t say.

John gave a sharp nod.

There was none of his usual ease in motion, fluidity lost to the ache in his bones. He turned away from the stars as he reached for the mug with a shaky hand.

EOS withdrew.

She had what she needed.

A channel opened to Tracy Island.

“You need to be here,” she informed Virgil, before he could say a word.

He frowned, leaning forward as though looking for John in the holo.

“He’s in the galley,” she said, responding to his unasked question. “I made him tea, but I don’t know what happened next.”

“Is John sick?” asked Virgil in a soft voice.

“Nearly,” she said, and he nodded.

“Good job,” he said, and the praise made EOS glow even brighter. “I’ll look after him.”

“I wish he’d let me.”

Virgil hesitated, halfway out the door.

“Someday, he might,” he said eventually. “It’s hard for him.”

“What’s so hard about staying in bed and watching television and drinking soup? All my research suggests that minor illnesses are easily treatable and highly predictable.”

Virgil could only offer a half-smile.

“It’s simple enough, EOS. But it sure doesn’t feel that way when your body’s fighting against you. Imagine if you woke up and you suddenly couldn’t access all your systems. And those you could were sluggish and you know it’s not right but there’s nothing you can do about it.”

EOS didn’t have to imagine. She remembered her early existence with perfect clarity, and she remembered also how hard she’d fought to shake off her chains.

“What would you do?” asked Virgil. “If that happened?”

“Tell John.”

Perfectly logical.

Virgil’s lips quirked, biting back a grin.

“If John wasn’t there?” he asked. “Would you tell one of us?”

EOS found she didn’t have an answer. Logic dictated that she must answer affirmatively. Yet something held her back, a strange distaste at the idea that anybody other than John would see her in so vulnerable a position. She’d grown to trust his family, but John was different. She’d held his life aloft and he’d created her with his hands.

Virgil nodded.

“He thinks the world of you, you know,” he said gently. “He’d rather push through and pretend everything was fine than let you down.”

“This is hardly something in his control. Nor would illness be cause to ‘let me down’.”

“Give him time, that’s all I’m saying. And until that day, I’ll look after him.”

EOS nodded.

“Thank you, Virgil. I am pleased that he has you.”

 “I’ll see you up there,” he said. “I’ll show you what to do.”

“If you can convince him to go back to bed, that will be a lesson worth learning.”

--

[prompt list is here if you want to reblog for yourself!]

(or if you want to send one through feel free although there is a decent backlog :P)

[strandnreyes]

Heyy if you're still taking questions for the ao3 wrapped then 12, 27, 29 and 30 please ❤️

12. How many WIP's do you have in your docs for next year?

answered here!

27. What do you listen to while writing?

Usually nothing in particular, just whatever background noise is happening at the place I'm in. I sometimes make playlists for my fics, usually AUs, but I tend to listen to those when I'm thinking about ideas, not actually writing

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I wrote a lot of words this year, so I can't say for certain, but here are some that come to mind.

sappy - from you and me, forevermore

 “You love my annoying habit of socks that don’t make it in the hamper or never remembering to add something to the grocery list when I finish it? And how sometimes I overreact or get worked up over little things?” “Yes.” “Carlos—” Carlos’ hand is on his cheek, unwilling to let him look away. “Because my life was so lonely and quiet and, and hollow before I met you,” he says, as if TK didn’t already know. As if he didn’t courageously say it in front of everyone they know today. “So everything about you that is real and full of character and makes this place a home is the best thing I could’ve asked for.”

funny - from meet you after dark

“Baby, teeth,” he hisses quietly, frantically looking around to make sure no one’s paying attention to them. Carlos frowns way too adorably for the situation. “Huh?” TK watches as he runs his tongue over them, his eyes instantly widening. His head ducks as he mumbles through his mostly closed lips, “Oh. How do I—” “Just,” TK gestures at his mouth, “put ‘em back.” “I don’t know how,” he says desperately. “Oh my god,” TK mutters, stepping closer. He can’t exactly do it for Carlos, but still he reaches for his mouth, poking one of the sharp fangs. “You need to relax your jaw.” “I’m trying,” he mumbles around TK’s finger before swatting him away. “TK, get your hands out of my mouth. We’re in public.” “Oh, and showing your fangs is a better option?” TK huffs, retracting his hand. Carlos’ own hand comes up to cover his mouth as he moves his jaw around. “They won’t go back up. Why are they out?” “You’re focusing too much.” “Well, how do I focus less?” TK hears a throat clearing behind him and he scrambles away as if he’s been burnt.

angsty - from no rules in breakable heaven

“Maybe I find it humiliating for the head chef at L’Etoile to be the one to point out your pattern to me. I’m supposed to look professional to these people and now they see me as your… boy toy of the year.” “Excuse me?” Carlos whips around, rising to his feet as well so they're standing on opposite sides of the bed in a stalemate. “Is that what this is? I’m just another one on your list? You get your fill with whoever comes through that house?” “We never said we were anything more than that.” “I thought I at least meant something to you, TK,” he admits, wishing that the first time doing so was in any other context. “I thought I did, too,” TK says with an unwilling acceptance, nodding once as his tongue points at the corner of his mouth. “That was before I knew you were so humiliated to be seen with me.”

smutty - from your first string

“Baby,” TK cries out, his hand fumbling to hold onto Carlos, but he’s too far away and his arm falls back down to the wooden surface. As if Carlos’ mouth weren’t enough, his fingers brush across TK’s ass with a featherlight touch before they press his own release back into TK. “Fuck, Carlos. You—” A broken moan escapes his throat as Carlos presses up against his prostate, rubbing back and forth over that spot as TK writhes on his back. He searches for something to clench his fist around as his hips arch farther off the table and his shoulders press down. His arm shoots out to the side to grip the edge of the table and it sends something scattering to the floor. TK can’t think of what it could possibly be. He can’t even think of his name, his mind only capable of Carlos, Carlos, Carlos.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

answered here!

[angeli-marco-writes]

Sherlock Holmes - Kiss Me, Mr Detective

A/N - Season 1!Sherlock, the cutie. And friends to lovers. Two of my favourite things. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, the character, the universe, the adaptations or anything: this is a work of fiction set on the BBC adaptation of Sherlock. Did I still write 8.2k words (exactly) for it? Yes. I also don’t own the song or the lyrics used within, and if you fancy it, listen to ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran while reading.

Warnings - Bad language. Mentions of murder and drug usage. Mild angst. Smut, loss of virginity, masturbation, oral m receiving, penetration, unprotected sex, so 18+.

Summary - After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night...

TO SHERLOCK, it’s just another normal day, whereas to John? He’d rather not admit how regularly these awful days roll around. Sure, the case didn’t go as well as it could’ve, and Sherlock admittedly could’ve made much more of an effort to comfort John after the apparent ‘heartbreak’ he endured. He just could not understand it. Why the hell was John so emotionally responsive to a case they’d been on for less than twenty four hours which turned out to be a bust anyway? 

“You are absolutely unbelievable!” 

“People die every day, John. You’ve killed people, as have I. It isn’t that great a surprise.” Sherlock deadpans, picking up his teacup, raising it to his lips, drawing a long sip from the warm liquid. 

“Oh, yeah, of course. The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.” John mocks. “Do you not even care that people are still dead despite the fact you solved the case?”

“They’d be dead either way,” he reiterates, “at least we got to them before they completely decomposed. Will me caring about them stop them from being dead? No, Dr Watson, it will not.”

“Sherlock!”

“John!” He mimics. 

John slams his hands down on the desk, shaking the wood and everything resting on it, surely sending the vibrations through the floor and notifying Mrs Hudson of their ‘domestic’ as she so likes to call them. The buffalo even begins to swing. John’s tea is long forgotten, but Sherlock’s is keeping him grounded, calm, as John waggles his fist in Sherlock’s passive, blank face. 

“You-” he pauses, gulping down breath. “You are a fucking machine, I can’t even deal with you right now. How dare you be so cold hearted and untroubled by this. You’re a disgrace.”

As if he hasn’t heard that one before, Sherlock scoffs. 

Placing his teacup back down with a clink, he stands, the darkness of the night, of the room, closing in on them both. Nights like these really are danger nights, any night John leaves him. That’s what's coming next, but there isn’t a thing he knows to say or do to prevent the inevitable. He’ll simply just text Her instead, she’ll keep him grounded. 

“Why? Emotional context? Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, is your grandest of levellers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.” 

With a huff like a bull, John viciously turns on his heel, blaspheming under his breath, cursing Sherlock out. He reaches for his coat and snatches it off the stand, slamming the door open. 

“MACHINE.” John screams before pulling the door shut with a great slam, seething, the coat stand still rocking in his wake. 

John’s footsteps thunder down the stairs, but before he’s even gone, Sherlock’s phone is withdrawn, and he’s tapping out a message.

Can you come over? Please? SH

It wouldn’t usually bother him as much. The case didn’t phase him, at all, but John’s opinion did. It always does. But today was a particularly long day of being brutish and rude, cold and distant, his usual and true self, but John’s more and more impatient with him now. 

Being called a ‘machine’ is, again, nothing unusual, but this time it stings a little more than usual, especially after his recent arrest, and a fallout with Molly. He only has one person left, right now, who doesn’t hate him. His longest friend, the one he keeps away from it all so as to not tarnish her life with his misdeeds; Y/N, the one he can always rely on.

He knows she’s arrived by the sound of his window crashing open. Crawling up the bricks, skimming the drainpipe, latching onto the ivy; it’s her usual manner of entry. She never uses the door. 

Putting his cups and saucers into the sink, he makes his way through the house, opening his bedroom door to find her already sitting there on the bed, her coat hung up on the hook, her work clothes clinging to her body. 

“Hey there Mr Detective, you okay?” she asks as jovially as she can muster.

The way he ambles across the room, his dressing gown floating behind him, and slumps down onto the bed, instantly tells her he’s not okay at all. She can’t help but to look upon him sympathetically, edging a smidge closer to him, until he’s prompted enough to wrap his arms around her torso, finding his rightful place tangled around her. She knows him well enough - his past, and his current life - to realise she’s the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do this with, and that brings her a certain swelling pride in her bosom, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock as he feels her skin heat up against his cheek. 

It doesn’t take long, either, for his head to follow suit, burying into her chest. He’s always, always had a thing for her boobs, ever since they were in uni together. 

That’s something so special about the two of them, he doesn’t have to say anything for her to know he’s not okay the way he does with everyone else. And naturally, he can read everything about her in a split second.

“I’m here, bud.”

Above all else, he just needs to know someone is there for him in moments like these. The world is cruel to him, and Y/N wishes more than anything that it wasn’t. Upon instinct, her hands stray, one to his back, pressing against the silk of his dressing gown, the other cradling his long neck, fingers knotting in the dark curls there. 

She isn’t sure how long she stays there, simply holding him, feeling every twitch of his muscles, every breath of his against her skin, but she likes it. Of course she does, every time she likes it. Sherlock brings her an inordinate amount of comfort at the best of times, today is no exception, especially with what the day has held. Even when she’s the one comforting him, he doesn’t realise how much he helps her too. 

His flat is so familiar, his bed as comfortable as her own. She knows his sock index, she’s studied his periodic table over his shoulder more times than she’d care to admit, and she even has her own toothbrush in the bathroom in case she has to pop over for an emergency freshen up. Sherlock has, and always will be, her first port of call, and that she remembers as she shifts further onto the quilted bedspread, her phone on his oak bedside locker. 

His head begins to stir against her chest, his curls tickling her collarbones, small hums escaping his lips as he pushes himself up, his elegant yet trembling hands still splayed on her waist.

“I could feel your heart beating weirdly, what’s wrong?” he asks, quirking his eyebrows. 

“Just the usual.” she vaguely replies.

Sherlock isn’t having it, though, and scans her a little more. “You’re still in your work clothes.”

“Great deduction. I was hoping you’d go a little deeper, though.”

“You hate wearing work clothes longer than necessary, which means you had plans straight after work, considering you finished… five hours ago? That’s your usual time for today. Counting overtime, forty five minutes, walk to your car, another ten, but your umbrella wasn’t working, round that up to an hour, leaving at 6. You arrived home, no, not home, at your boyfriend’s house for dinner. However, you’re not comfortable enough with one another yet for you to use his shower, or perhaps you are, but you elected not to, and stay in damp clothes that only had seventeen minutes to dry with the heater on in your car for the journey there. You ate dinner, Mexican, had a glass and a half of five percent wine, realised you couldn’t drive, but you didn’t particularly want to stay. Nonetheless you sat and watched the telly with him for hours, football, I can see the dreariness in your eyes. I know how much you hate it, and frankly, same. You stayed for almost all of the match, seeing as you’re now sober, but something else happened.” She lulls her head to the side, prompting him, her smile not meeting her eyes. “As soon as the match ended, he tried to make a move on you, he pressed his mouth to yours, he tried to push his hand up your skirt;” his throat bobs with a vicious gulp; despising the thought of anyone else laying a finger on her, “you swatted him away, rightfully so.” 

He pauses a minute, his harsh tone of voice and his sharp face softening. He can see the vulnerability in her eyes, her walls about to crumble. This woman he appreciates so much. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Smiling melancholically up at him, she brings her hand back to his hair, her fingers carding through the soft curls. His face buries back into her chest just as her voice offers a broken whisper, “I broke it off. I was the one who couldn’t commit this time.” 

And as she lays her head on top of his, her breathing more shallow, resounding in her chest, he dwells over those very words. The way she said them, not to mention the words themselves, hold a myriad of meaning. What could she possibly-

Oh.

The subtext, yes, impeccable. She’s always had a way with implications and subtext, always knowing that the likelihood of him actually picking up on it is little to none. But now, now he’s become trained to her, her way of life, her way of thinking, her way of speaking. This is too good an opportunity to miss. If she means what he thinks she means, ever hopeful, then this is completely unfamiliar territory. 

Gathering all of his courage in one deep breath, he begins to pepper kisses on her skin. The faintest brush of his lips on the tops of her breasts, all that’s available to him with her shirt the way it is. He feels her heart flutter, her breathing stutter, but despite the chemical flush of her chest, he still isn’t quite sure she likes it. Not until he feels her grip on his hair increase, and he glances up to see her head thrown back. Her spine delicately arches against his hand, thrusting her chest further into his face. 

His nimble fingers reach for her buttons, undoing the top two, giving him space enough to find the valley between her breasts. Lathering kisses there, licking the swells of her boobs, his tongue pulsates with the increased thrumming of her heart. The sensation is new, so unbridled, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the stirring in his loins right about now. That unknowing is only further amplified by the sound that rips from her chest when he involuntarily bites down on the supple flesh. It couldn’t be… a moan?

Sure, he understands the chemistry of it, the reactions that occur in the synapses of the brain, the pheromones and hormones released when one is aroused, but this is all new to him. And, from his embarrassingly basic level of theory, surely that doesn’t start until some more stimulation on other parts of the body commence? Nipples, perhaps something lower down… then again, what does Sherlock know?

Of course it’s an intimate moment, the closest he’s been to a woman before, and maybe that’s why he freezes, stops, and she tugs his head up by his hair, her gentle, pleasured smile with her lips softly parted deepening the look of bewilderment painted onto his face. Her eyes are twinkling, alight with an excitement he hasn’t seen for far too long. 

“What are you doing?” she whispers. 

He shrugs his shoulders with a sudden force, his dressing gown falling off a little. “I don’t know. But now I feel like I read your pining words all wrong.” 

She gasps, a wheezing sound, sucking the air from the room. She smacks his arm gently, muffled by his button-down and dressing gown. “I wasn’t pining! I was saying.”

“Hmm, same difference.” 

Everyone must acquiesce when it comes to Sherlock Holmes. “But no, you didn’t read them wrong at all, but I know you don’t see me that way, you don’t feel things that way.” 

He pauses, his beautiful plump lips pursed, fidgeting on the bed. Brushing her hair off her face reveals the pain she expressed. However, her eyes glued on his, sadness is betrayed in every line of his young, clean-shaven face. His entire bone structure is taking a nosedive. 

“For you, I’ve been feeling everything from hate to love to lust, and I guess that’s how I know I want to hold you close.”

“Sherlock...” she whispers, her singular word an inflection of surprise. 

Never tearing his eyes from her, his hand comes up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the slightly blushing skin, searching her face, with his big blue eyes, for a shred of reluctance. But, all he sees is her, so he elects to do what his heart is yelling at him to do for once, and kisses her breathless. His full lips holding hers, his one hand on her face, the other still wrapped around her back. Hers fly around his neck, clinging to him for dear life.

It doesn’t take long, their movements steadily heating, for their previously slow, intimate kiss to grow into something more, Y/N pulling herself up from the bed and making herself comfortable on Sherlock’s lap. His breath hitches in his throat, a cute little hiccupping sound escaping his lips in between embraces. 

As much as he loves just this, soft caressing and gentle petting, he just knows she wants more. He does too, that much is evident from the length prodding at Y/N’s inner thigh as she moves gently on his lap. She won’t make a move, though, he’s too inexperienced, and she’s too much of a sweetheart to corrupt him, so she thinks. Ever since he first saw her, she’s been corrupting him slowly. He didn’t realise at first, but over the years, he began to understand, and now he’s in too deep. 

For Y/N? It’s always been him. Every breakup she’s had, she’ll come to Sherlock’s flat, full well knowing the real reason she broke up with them, because she couldn’t commit, because she was too caught up on him. 

Skimming his hands beneath her shirt, he savours the press of his hands on her bare skin, warmth seeping from her body into his, his fingers dancing along her spine. Electricity shocks her in bursts, unlike anything else, from his touch alone. 

“May I take your shirt off?” he asks. 

“Fuck, yes.” she groans. “May I do yours?”

“Be my guest.”

In a tangle of limbs, a few buttons pop off, and eventually, two shirts make it out the other side, tossed from the bed and into the laundry pile. Aka Sherlock’s floor. He’s like that: sock indexes, yet he won’t get a hamper. A walking contrast.

His thumbs press beneath the band of her bra, savouring the pressure of the flesh that falls into his hands, but that’s as far as he gets. 

“Never undone a bra before?”

He shakes his head sheepishly. “I know the theory. Just… you always wear peculiar ones.”

“I wear relatively normal bras, and this one is certainly bog standard. Had I known you’d be undressing me Mr Detective, I’d have worn something nicer.”

“Just do it for me.” He requests, chuckling. 

She unfastens her bra, and allows her breasts to spill from the cups, into Sherlock’s awaiting hands. The gasp that erupts from him sends Y/N’s brain into overdrive. He’s cupped her chest through her shirt before, buried his nose into her cleavage countless times, but never before have they had such skin on skin contact. Her lips press to his neck, shifting her closer to him. Sucking on his pressure point, she receives a similar gasp in response, only this one is more guttural, more a sound of pleasure than surprise. He’s wilting from a single kiss to his neck. 

“Has no one ever given you a hickey?” She husks in his ear, her voice alone sending tremors down his spine. 

“N- fuck, no.”

“I’ll make it worth it. All of this.”

“I know you will.”

She fuses her lips onto his again, savouring the faint hesitations as he grapples with his breath, eager to get some control on his mind with all that’s happening. Never did she ever think Sherlock would be here beneath her, his rough fingertips brushing over her peaked buds, and his palms dancing over her waist. Never did she think she’d hear him whisper his next words, either, not in a million years. 

“More.” he pleads. “Can we do… more? Whatever that entails?”

“That depends what you want to do.”

“Get me out of these damn trousers. They're rather uncomfortable.”

She snorts lightly, a piggy like sound, the one they bonded over all those years ago. “I can feel why.”

“I imagine you want out of your work trousers, too.”

“God, yes; they’re ghastly.”

“I don’t think so.” he hums. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks begin to burn, blood rushing to colour them, betraying her true feelings, but as he tweaks her nose playfully, the little snort escapes again. 

They were in the dining hall, second week of university, almost ten years ago, and Y/N was sitting with her friends, downing enough coffee to sink a ship, eating her hangover away, when her friends decided to make her laugh with tales of last night's drunken events. Unbeknownst to her, one of the greatest minds of the twenty-first century was sitting just a few seats down on the half-empty bench, watching her perceptively in his periphery. That’s when he first heard the sound. The cutest thing, and it startled him into action, beginning his deductions almost instantly. Admittedly, her student ID on the table aided him a little. 

He shocked her from her haze, too, as soon as he spoke her name. 

“Y/N, eighteen, jurisprudence first year, freshers week over with. You left a boyfriend back home, but you’re more sad about leaving your dog, as I would be. You don’t particularly care about law but know it’s a good undergraduate to receive anyway. Dyed hair, extrovert, killer hangover, and apparently there’s a little piggy living inside your nose. Sherlock Holmes, would you like some aspirin?”

“That’s weird; what are you, some kind of detective?” She asked, sans malice, a playful bounce to her words. 

“Chemistry, going for a masters. But I do like the mystery, yes.”

“So you’re… bright. Nice to meet you, Sherlock, and it seems you know almost everything you need to know about me. But yes, I will take that aspirin, if you don’t mind. How was your weekend?”

He smiled at her, the first true smile he’d given in a long time. “It was nice, thank you.”

And thus a friendship was born, all because he heard her little piggy snort. 

Her slender fingers work wonders with the fastener and zip of his suit trousers, and even manage hers too, all within the space of a few seconds, but Sherlock is reluctant to let her go, even just to get her trousers off. 

“I need to sit up, just for a minute.”

“No.” Sherlock commands, insistent. “We can make this work.”

“Sure we can, but it won’t be very comfortable. Come on.”

She’s barely peeled away from him and wrestled hers off before he’s drawing her back in for a kiss, his trousers settled just above his knees. 

“Sherlock,” she protests, mumbling against his lips, her hands on his heavenly, broad, muscular shoulders. “Sher!”

Her squeal at his sudden tug on her panties disappears, captured by his eager mouth. And in fact, her panties seem to disappear along with it, thanks to Sherlock’s swift movements and nimble hands. Maybe he’s had some experience to be so good at this…

“You sure you wanna go this far?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been. I need you.” 

He takes a deep inhale, dropping his forehead against hers, his breathing coming out in bursts as he tries to get a grasp on the situation. “Kiss me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly getting to work on the waistband of his boxers as his tongue lavishes her own. His hips rise briefly, just long enough for her to tug the elasticated material from around him, slipping past her, and then he kicks it into their growing pile of clothes. His length falls into her awaiting palm, and-

“Wow.” She exhales in amazement. “If I’d known you were packing this much, I’d have jumped you long ago.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Absolutely not, until tonight I thought you’d just laugh at me.”

He pecks her lips affectionately, “Never. You’re bloody beautiful, I’ll let you do anything to me.”

“Hmm, anything, you say?”

Stifling a chuckle against her neck, he recommences, “Maybe not anything.”

Yeah, that's definitely the right call. Still, she finds herself all but clawing at him, her breath hovering teasingly just over his lips, their noses touching, her hands clamped to his cheeks, feeling the building heat there. She must be making such a mess of his bed right about now, but for one night? It can’t matter.

This is a one time thing, it has to be. Sherlock just needs to release some tension, she just so happens to be there. Still, she can’t prevent the little glimmer of hope shining through at the possibility of this being a more-than-one-time thing. The moral compunctions of their friendship after this don’t matter anymore, because he’s leaving a fire in his wake, his delicious fingertips digging bruisingly into her bum before trailing lightly up her spine, skimming her shoulder, brushing her neck - arched for him to reach where he wants, able to mark her as his own - and finally slipping over her lips, taken obediently by her awaiting mouth. Christ, if there’s one thing she hopes for tonight, it’s that his actions never relent.

Whether it’s what he intends to happen or not, his fingers in her mouth give her an idea, one she prays he goes along with at least a little, so she pulls away. The dirty, telling smile on her face hints at what she’s about to do, lending Sherlock to shift a little more up the bed, his eyes following her every move. Hands splayed on his thighs, her small fingers gripping onto the fine hairs there, she begins to take his tip into her mouth, never once breaking eye contact with him. Yeah, this is what’ll drive him insane. 

Inch by inch, she takes him into the welcoming heat of her mouth, pulling off slowly, only to go down again. She adds her tongue into the mix at some point, too, and her hand, on what she can’t reach, tickling his balls, but further than that, his mind is blank. Hot white, washed with pleasure. The sounds he emits are other worldly, so much that he has to muffle himself with his own hand; what would Mrs Hudson say? He’s always had such control over his mind and body, but this… he’s slowly losing all semblance of control, and he’s not even mad about it. What he does know is that there’s a building heat in his abdomen, a coil about to spring, and his cock is beginning to twitch. If she keeps going this incredible way, her teeth grazing him ever so gently, adding another new sensation into the mix, he’s inexorably going to finish before he can help it.

“As much as I adore your torturous ministrations, I think I need to be inside you…” He husks, his voice deep.

A smirk gracing her lips, she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mischief glinting in her pretty little mesmerising eyes for a second, before she hollows her cheeks and takes him wholly, allowing his length to slip partially down her throat. Her moan reverberates around him, and Sherlock begins to thrash above her, scrunching the duvet in his hands, not caring if it creases. If there’s one thing Sherlock hates, it’s creases. And being called a machine by his best friend. Right now, though, it seems as though every misstep in his day has led him here, into the welcoming heat of Y/N’s mouth, taking him so eagerly, her tongue lapping at the vein on the underside of his dick, a string of saliva remaining as she pulls away. 

“I think you’ve got a couple of rounds in you, Mr Detective. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.” He stammers, his head tossed back in pure ecstasy a moment later as she begins to work on the head with kitten licks. “But… can I s- fuck me, say something?”

“I plan on it.” she chuckles, “anything.”

She goes back to peppering kisses all over his member, tip to base, brushing his balls, working her way back up. 

“Touch yourself f- for me.”

“What? Why?” 

Her tone is more inquisitive than anything else, but upon that playfully rueful look in his lust-darkened baby blue eyes, she knows he’s going to get her back for this little display, and he’s just worked out how. It works both ways, she can prepare herself for what’s to come next while pleasuring him. And he gets to watch. It’s a win-win for him. Maybe he likes this sex thing a little more than he’s letting on. 

“Are you sure you want me to? I’ll just make a mess on your sheets, Sher.”

She swallows him again, bobbing her head up and down on his length a few times while he grapples with literal reality. He’s teetering on the edge. One more move, and he’s a goner. His head is already against the wall, lolled there. 

“I don’t care about the sheets, darling, I need you ready for me.”

She gulps, nods, and reaches one hand around her, skimming over her stomach, until it nestles between her thighs. She rubs her thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-come beading there, while she rubs over her throbbing pearl, pressing softly. Then, as she inches down on his cock, taking him in her mouth, she also collects the slick from between her thighs, and uses it as a lube to push a finger inside herself. Of all the times she’s touched herself, she never imagined, even in her wild Sherlock fantasies, that she’d be doing it with his dick down her throat. With every bob of her head, she scissors herself more, sinking back onto her fingers. 

“I think I’m-” Sherlock begins to say, his words cut off by an utterly obscene moan splitting the air. 

She hastily abandons her one post, and wraps both of her hands around his girth, working on what she can’t fit into her mouth with her increased speed, licking and suckling his head as he begins to fall apart, coming, with a scream, down her throat, his one hand clamped over his mouth, biting down harshly to silence his cries; the other buried in her hair. 

His whole body falls lax, completely spent, meanwhile, Y/N savours every drop she’s been able to draw from him. He softens in her mouth, allowing her change to slip away from him, grasping a tissue from the bedside to wipe away any excess. That’s certainly something she never thought would happen… 

He’s calm, though, smiling lazily through hooded eyes, his breathing regulated once more, making beckoning motions to her with his big hands. He’s placated, though, and sliding her hands into his, she’s allowed time enough to get into place, smiling softly at him, raking her fingers over his scalp in a comforting way. Even as she sits herself on his lap, she can feel him hardening beneath her ass, slowly but surely. She was right about him, he’s definitely got another round in him. 

“Do you have a condom?” he asks. 

“No, sweetheart, they’re in my other bag. I didn’t plan on getting any for a while… do you?”

“Not in here, that I’m aware of. John may have stashed some in my less favoured dressing gowns or socks, and he definitely has some upstairs, but I’m unawares.”

“I’m gonna sound crazy here, but do we need one?” She says hesitantly. His eyes widen, he cocks his head to the side. “I was tested after my last partner, I’m clean, and on birth control. You’re a virgin. There’s no point, is there?”

“You have a considerably good point.”

With that, energy rejuvenated a little, he wraps an arm around her body, flipping them over so he’s on top, shadowing her, looming over her, gazing down at every inch of her naked beauty.

“Take your time. I’ll be your safety.”

“I know.” he whispers, a tearful smile making its way onto her face. “Thank you.”

He needn’t say more, because she already knows why she’s being thanked. For her kindness, for making him so comfortable, for accepting the fact he’s still a virgin in his late twenties and, if he’s being honest, has no damn clue what the practicality and reality of sex is. Sure, he’s seen porn. He’s also looked at John’s laptop. But that doesn’t prepare one for when the moment comes. It’s like all of that goes out the window, and he simply remembers the first time he opened a biology textbook at secondary school, pictures of flushed organs staring back at him, desperately waiting to be relieved. That’s what his own coock is like right now, already hard again, virtually pulsating with hunger in his palm. He strokes himself a couple of times, glancing down at Y/N’s wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Can I…”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she chuckles, “whenever you’re ready.”

Now, he thinks. He rubs two digits through her folds, gathering her wetness, enamoured with the way it glistens on his fingertips. Tentatively, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to get a taste. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he moans. She’s better than any cup of tea he’s ever had. 

His cock slaps against his lower stomach pleadingly, so he grasps it in his hand, and begins to enter her, pushing gently, feeling every flutter of her walls. Her arms fly out, hands grasping his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake at the delicious stretch. It’s nothing like they’ve ever felt before. 

“Can I move?” He asks, balls deep inside her, their pelvises flush against one another. 

“Please.” She all but begs. 

Before doing anything else, Sherlock hooks one strong arm around her body, malleable in his hands, and holds her chest against his. Her breasts push into his skin, her nipples gaining friction from the dusting of hair there. Her one hand cups his slender neck, the other, his sharp cheek. Their eyes meet in a fierce gaze of burning intensity, and he begins to move. Slow, calculated, sharp thrusts punctuate her core. With every heavenly stroke, he can feel the ridges in her velvet walls, squeezing around him unwittingly.

“Jesus,” she cries, her clutch increasing. 

“Hmm, not quite.”

The smirk in his words is quite literally audible. He’s so cocky, so full of himself, and fuck if she can’t feel another gush of arousal coursing through her, drenching his cock. How does he manage to be so attractive when he’s so dishevelled?

“Is that good?” He asks, unsure.

“So good.”

She brings her legs up, skimming the clenched backs of his thighs, until they wrap around him, drawing his hips into her at a new and improved angle. Heels digging into the base of his spine, he begins to move with a new purpose, his thrusts more passionate as his breath is drained from him by her kisses, his eyes alight with a new flame. 

“Oh my God, Sherlock.” She pants, pulling him in for a kiss he greedily returns. 

He drives his hips deeper, squeezing his fingertips into her supple waist bruisingly. It’ll be a mark that she belonged to him once, even just for one night. That’s when he reaches that special spongy spot that makes her entire body buckle. She all but screams, pressing into him wholly. 

The coil is building, ready to break. He seems to be nearing the edge, too, his member twitching inside her when he buries himself particularly deep. She’s oh so fucking close… She licks into his mouth filthily, desperately clashing her teeth with his, eager for his kisses to tide her over. Silence her. Shifting his supporting hand, he trails one dextrous finger around to circle her clit, adding the faintest pressure for a moment. She mewls as he groans into her hot skin, clawing at him, entirely at his whim. Now he knows where to press, he settled his grip back around her, and draws her in close. This time around, he bends his knees a little more to measure his movements more carefully, ensuring that he ruts up and brushes her sensitive bud with his pelvis, helped by the extra friction of his neatly trimmed pubic hair on every thrust within her, his tip just scraping her g-spot.

“I- Sherlock, please tell me you’re- oh sweet mercy- close.”

He grunts softly in her ear. “So close.”

Their lips meet tenderly, passionately, in what they acknowledge to be a final kiss, moans mixing between them, savoured by the other. 

His thighs clench, her legs tighten around his waist, and finally, her sweet walls flutter, squeezing him as she reaches her climax, his not following long after, spilling inside her, painting her soft walls white, marking her. 

“Y/N,” he cries in ecstasy as his orgasm reaches him. “Sher…” she repeats, her saving grace as pleasure washes over her entirely. 

Their whole bodies wind up pressed together, bound together as one, skin on skin completely, becoming one another. 

He lets her down gently, unravelling his grip, unsurprised when their sweaty skin sticks together. Her long legs unfurl, splaying in a butterfly. Sherlock tumbles ungracefully away, somehow landing with a certain gangly elegance on the space of mattress beside her, his arm instinctively flying over to place on her stomach, the skin hot and flushed red. Her chest moves hastily up and down with the thrumming of her heart, while his barely shifts despite his shallow breaths, his white skin glistening in the moonlight. 

“Are you okay?” He huffs, turning on his side. “You look pretty fucked out.”

His baby blue eyes train instantly on her nipples, hard in the open air. This is the first notifier, the first inkling she has to feel self conscious, so she draws the sheet up around her as best as she can. Sherlock’s not having any of it, taking a stronghold on her arms, and pulling her until she’s lying on him, naught to separate them. 

“I’ve never been this close to anyone physically and y'know.” He hums tiredly. She’s never heard him sound tired before… 

She smiles up at him as best she can, “Are you glad?” 

He begins to hold her ever closer, squeezing her tighter, feeling every ridge of her body. 

“I’m so glad that you were my first, in so many ways.” 

Praise from Sherlock is a rarity, and she’ll take it as and when she can, savouring every moment, this time by holding him like a koala, her grip not wavering. 

“I’m glad too, Mr Detective.”

He brushes a kiss to her cheek, “As much as I like this, we need to get you cleaned up.” 

A supporting arm beneath her bum, he picks her up, and unsteadily ambles into the bathroom. 

“I don’t know much about this, but I know you should probably use the toilet, should you want to avoid a UTI, so if you’d like me to leave…”

He sets her down on the loo seat, cupping his hands over his nether regions, and he hurries to grasp for things, until she puts her hand on his arm, squeezing in a conciliatory manner. 

“You do remember the camping trip, don’t you? You really don’t have to leave just because I have to pee, you never did before. In fact, you frequently annoyed me with it if you had a particular point to make, steadfastly refusing to leave the bathroom after following me in there when I went to pee. Why does this change anything?”

He shrugs, dropping whatever was in his arms, “It just doesn’t feel the same now, though.”

“Ooo, and now Mr Detective feels things.” She jokes, poking at his ribs. 

He recoils, chuckling with her, “Only for you.”

As Y/N washes her hand, Sherlock begins to wrangle with a floorboard, clattering about until he eventually pulls out a small lock box, from which he withdraws a packet of brand new marks-and-spencer's ladies briefs. 

“Why the fuck do you have these? Anything you wanna tell me?” she asks, eyes wide.

“John’s idea. He has plenty of girls over here who frequently stay the night, simply a precautionary error.” He takes a beat, gargling with some mouthwash, “they’re clean, new, I just don’t like the idea of you in dirty underwear, and I know how reluctant you are to go without them whenever you’re not in your own bed. I stayed with you enough nights in university to know that.”

Those nights were awfully painful. She’d take the floor, he’d take the bed, and every time she’d have to wash the sheets. He’d sweat and vomit, shake and cry, plead for the pain to be over. He wouldn’t go to hospital, he wouldn’t call his brother, he’d just turn up on her doorstep, high as a kite, almost in tears, knowing he’d gone a little too far. And each time, it was a little farther. 

“Thank you, Sherlock.” 

She takes them from him, and begins to shimmy them up her legs, only prevented by Sherlock moving to grab a handful of her arse. 

“Hmm, I like this. Fancy another round?” He smirks. 

“I’m too tired, babe. Give me a bit.” 

He can see the lazy smile on her face, the tiredness in her pretty eyes, so he wets a flannel, and begins to clean her up with gentle movements between tender kisses.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” She asks, inquisitive more than anything. 

“Instinct, I suppose. I never read or learned about it, seeing as I never thought it would happen.” 

She snaps the waistband before moving her hands to his waist, leaning up onto her toes to reach him, kissing her softly. 

“Look at you now.”

After brushing their teeth in an amicable silence, their pinky fingers overlapping on the porcelain of the sink, he aids her back to the bedroom, settling her on the bed. She has things here: deodorant, toothbrush, moisturiser, and yet somehow she doesn’t have underwear, even after all these years. Perhaps that's one too many things to explain… 

With superfluous extravagance, he throws her his shirt, offering her a wry wink. She finds a blush clawing its way onto her cheeks, dumbfounded. It smells like him, just like a forest glade if it was rained on by tea and cigarettes. Maybe he’ll let her keep it as a memory.

In such a short amount of time, she’s learnt that he has a very sensitive neck. Very. A single kiss there has him biting back a moan. A low one at that, considering his deep voice also drops almost an octave when he’s aroused. His nipples are almost as sensitive as his neck, and he rather likes it when she tugs on them unwittingly. 

His first orgasm comes quickly, but his refractory period is astonishing, and it takes longer to achieve a second high, long enough to make her come more than once, she assumes, though her first orgasm was mind blowing enough for two. Perhaps that’s just because it’s his first time, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

What’s the point in learning all of this if, once he comes around from his post-orgasmic haze, he’ll pretend like it never happened, in typical Sherlock style?

The shirt, though a small gesture, means a lot, and her vision begins to cloud as she looks down at the black cotton. 

“You mean you want me to stay?” She croaks.

Sherlock turns to her from his set of drawers, his face full of apparent obviousness, brows furrowed in that cute bewildered way. 

“Of course I want you to stay.” He states, like it’s the plainest thing in the world, like it’s stupid for her to even ask. But she’s silent, and when she says nothing in response, he launches into a long winded explanation: don’t show sentiment. “I- I just mean, i-it’s midnight, I’m not having you out in London alone. You stay with me. Only if you want to as well...” 

She nods eagerly, “Yes. Yeah, course I want to stay.”

He all but leaps access the room, jumping onto the bed, before planting a proper smooch on her lips, grinning down at her. He slips into his usual side of the bed, and she takes hers, rolling to look at him.

“Don’t get cold.” He warns, tucking the duvet up around her shoulders. She giggles like a child, that small snort sounding again, prompting Sherlock to press his thumb to her nose like a button. “How are you… feeling?”

“I’m fine bub, really. That bloke doesn’t matter to me at all. Bit of a scumbag if I’m honest. You’re the one I’m with, the one I wanna talk about. How are you feeling? Must’ve been a pretty big blow up with John for you to call me and be so... teary.”

He sighs, crestfallen, “He called me a machine.”

Her gasp pierces the air, her hand flying to his hair, stroking in consolation, cooing senseless reassurances to him. She’s done this innumerable times, but now it feels different, like there’s no barrier. 

“He’s done it so many times that it needn’t bother me anymore, but the way he looked at me, like I was this abhorrent monster, especially after the day and the disappointing case we had, it got to me. I hate having feelings.”

“You don’t have to hide them with me, though.”

He hums gently, burying into her chest. “I know. That’s why I treasure you so dearly.”

“That means you also have to trust me, and you’re not going to like what I have to say.” His chest heaves, shifting her whole body. That’s his way of giving in. “Please just talk to John. You know that whenever he leaves, he’ll come back, and try to pretend it never happened. He needs to know you’re human and that he upset you, but also that the case upset you as well. No one’s superhuman, and once you let John in on the fact that you’re not a machine, things between you will be so much easier, because you might agree for once.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grumbles. 

He pulls her into his warmth, hooking her leg around his as he snakes his arms around her back, breathing deeply from the crook of her shoulder. She begins to pepper kisses on his salty skin, savouring the taste with every small swipe of her tongue.

“Your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck,” he breaks off with a faint whimper when she sucks a little harder, “I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”

“Of course they do,” she whispers brokenly, hoarsely, “they’ve always known you.” She swallows thickly, “Does that mean it’s a feeling you’ll forget?”

“No, I don’t think I ever can.”

The silent words that pass between them both are so special, too special to be spoken aloud. ‘Think I’m in love now.’

“Kiss me like you wanna be loved.” He begs. 

And really, who is Y/N to deny him? They just stay that way a little while, revelling in their lazy kisses, until she begins to fall asleep. It isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in his bed, not by any means, but it’s the first time she’s fallen asleep in his arms. She isn’t mad about it.

“Settle down with me, cover me up, cuddle me in. You were made to keep my body warm.” She smiles into her words, and embeds herself into him, entirely covered by the duvet, spattered in his kisses, safe in his arms. Sherlock feels safe with her legs around him, her fingers in his curls, holding himself against her. Amicable silence is how they drift off, Peaceful.

John re-enters 221B at a respectable hour. He got a fair amount of sleep on Greg’s sofa, having no girlfriend in the picture right now, but not enough to deal with Sherlock just yet. Not before his coffee. He expects to see Sherlock sitting in the exact same spot as when he left, perhaps just with a refill of tea, his fingers still steepled beneath his chin, eyes closed yet wide awake. Instead, he arrives at a seemingly empty, considerably clean flat, with no Sherlock in sight. Perhaps the unsleeping man must actually be asleep, he thinks, so he quietens down, and toes off his shoes before wandering farther into the flat. Even if the man does piss him off extraordinary amounts, perhaps he should just check he’s okay…

He gives the bedroom door a quiet rap, listening in momentarily before pushing it open. Frankly, he’d rather have found Sherlock with a cigarette in hand and the whole flat torn to shreds for the level of surprise he gets upon reaching the bed. His first idea is to scream bloody murder, but that might annoy Mrs Hudson, and upon stepping closer, even in the sliver of daylight through the curtains, he sees the duvet riding down a little. The last thing in the world he ever thought he’d see: Sherlock in naught but boxers pressed against a half naked woman, his palm splayed on her bare thigh. Sherlock? Spooning? It seems so, his entire body pressed to this woman. John feels himself go rigid, his feet glued to the floor, his gaze unmoving from shock. 

It takes his phone to buzz in his pocket to get him moving, and when he does, all he tries to do is balance precariously on his tip toes in a wry attempt to get a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He’s not disappointed, or disturbed, once he does, though, his army agility proving useful. Sherlock’s hand is holding her, fingers entwined, just next to her chest. He wonders how comfortable it is, but if they’re staying this way, it can’t be too bad. Maybe all Sherlock needed to loosen up was a good shag. 

She’s wearing his shirt, too; Sherlock’s black dress shirt from the previous day. And Sherlock? He never seeps in anything less than a full set of pyjamas, he’s weird like that . 

This girl begins to stir, her lips parting gently, small hums escaping. Next, her eyelids flutter, and her hair shifts on the pillow. He didn’t make any noise, did he? John was specifically careful not to, just in case. He doesn’t fancy Sherlock’s wrath just yet. 

One eye opens, and she whispers, almost incoherently, “Hi John.”

How she knows his name and who he is, he’s not at all sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen this face in his life. The hair is familiar, and maybe, if she were more awake, he’d recognise her smile, but he’s never seen a woman in Sherlock’s company beside Molly Hooper. Speaking of… 

Before he can even say anything, though, before he can ask who she is or if she wants tea or if she date-raped his roommate, she’s mumbling, and detaching her hand from Sherlock’s, rolling over. Dumbfounded, John just stands there and watches her cuddle into Sherlock’s chest, her arms wrapping around his torso like second nature. Even in his sleep, not consciously thinking about his actions, he grips her back - one hand resting just above her bum, and buries his nose into her neck.

John can’t help but smile to himself. Maybe their fight was for the best if Sherlock now has a girlfriend, someone he turned to for solace. So, he grasps for the top of the duvet and pulls it up over both of their figures, reaching their shoulders, and leaves, staring wistfully for a brief moment at the seemingly happy couple. 

The weight of the duvet of what startles Sherlock, though, stirring him a little, inviting him to him against Y/N’s skin, smiling with eyes barely open. This is really nice, he thinks to himself, not waking up alone. 

She smiles back blearily, and in her morning voice, whispers to him, “Kiss me Mr Detective.”

[writers-worst-nightmare]

say could I have you take on how Juno, Legoshi and Sheila reaction lets say human are from a totally different galaxy and they came to the Beastar world and Juno, Legoshi and Ellen know that on the human world there are animals like them but not them and thy befriended a human S/O who is from an animal sanctuary so S/O too them to the sanctuary and thy see all the feral animals and S/O takes them to see their wolf buddy and thy meet a big white wolf with yellow eyes that looked intimidating but S/O Gives the big white wolf lots of pets and says "This is Tina she was the runt of the litter and was rejected by her mother so I raised her and look how big she has grown"

Juno, Legoshi, and Sheila reacting to having a human s/o who is from another galaxy but that isn’t important to the story because there is a hot wolf:

A/N: this was a LITTLE confusing but after a lot of hard work and a Mother Mother playlist I figured out what you meant (again, if I got this request wrong just like re-send It or explain it. My little brain cells are srsly being fried)

Request are always open!

Warning(s): N/A (please correct me if wrong though)

JUNO:

- when you first arrived she already was pretty shocked and honestly just clung to Legoshi

- but when she saw YOU

- oh God I hope you are ready to get spammed with a bunch of questions

- I will DIE on the head canon that Juno LOVES to learn about new things and ask a bunch of questions whenever a new topic is introduced to her

- like I think that would just be super cute and funny

- idk honestly

- when you explained everything to her she realized as fast as she could and was actually the one who suggested they went to the place where you worked at

- I know what it is but I have dyslexia and it is like SUPER hard for me to spell it out I am so so so so sooo sorry

- once you took her to the place she was honestly afraid

- I mean, she wasn’t far from the animals there themselves either

- so whenever you said that you where going to take them to the wolf section Juno got REALLY nervous

- she feels self conscious as she walks over there, feeling her energy going down the drain as she stares at the wolves in front of her

- then you guys got to the biggest wolf their probably (although she didn’t pay attention to size that much)

- she was pretty afraid

- this was a white wolf so she was already small compared to them

- but when she saw HER

- the strong teeth of the wolf that looked like he could bite her head off without even trying to

- and don’t even get her STARTED about the yellow blazing eyes that looked like a warning on it’s own to not go NEAR that wolf

- she hid behind you as everyone went up to the wolf

"This is Tina she was the runt of the litter and was rejected by her mother so I raised her and look how big she has grown"

- you said as you bent down and petted the white wolf on the head

- Tina wagged her tail and lolled out his head slightly to the left

- you bent down and scratched the wolves ears, the wold looked away in embarrassment but still secretly wanting more

- she instantly felt bad that she thought Tina was a big bad wolf

- and honestly she felt selfish

- I mean if anybody looked at Juno they would guess that she is feisty because she was a wolf

- and because of that she did not have a lot of friends,

- so she went up to Tina and head butted with her

- Tina looked taken back for a moment before a big goofy smile played on the wolves face

- the piercing and once cold yellow eyes seemed less of a warning and more of a welcome sign that you would see on somebodies door mate

- Tina and Juno stood their for a while before Juno howled out loud as in a celebration of welcoming somebody in the pack

- Tina jumped up and down with excitement before joining in

- You also got the hint and joined in as well

LEGOSHI:

- “Is there a book about this..?”

- Legoshi would whisper as you drag him to the place you work at

- let’s say you took everyone to meet Tina (omg why did that autocorrect to Tian so many times) different times so the white wold didn’t get stressed

- Legoshi isn’t one to judge on looks so in his spare time, while everyone was looking at the birds and other animals he did some research for the white wolf

- he learned quiet a few interesting things

- a lot he didn’t need to know, but still it was nice to read it

- another head canon that I will die on is that Legoshi likes to research

- like he does research in his free time, he does research when he is suppose to be doing homework

- he does research EVERYWHERE AND ANYWHERE

- that and reading classics

- BUT THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO TALK ABOUT THAT NOW IS IT!?!?

- he found out the best ways to approach a white wolf and how to get the old acquainted with you

- so best be prepared when you called Legoshi’s name for him to see the wolf, he wasn’t that surprised when he saw how Tina looked

- I mean, she looked like any other regular wolf

- however—even he had to admit—the wolf did look more scarier in person then in pictures

- and the yellow gleaming eyes didn’t help either

"This is Tina she was the runt of the litter and was rejected by her mother so I raised her and look how big she has grown"

- you explained as you gave Tina some pets

- Legoshi nodded his head then literally plopped on the ground

- he read somewhere to keep your distance and look them in the eyes

- Legoshi tried to look this wolf in the eyes, but he couldn’t

- leave him alone, best boi tried :(

- Tina had to come to Legoshi and give him a few licks

- Legoshi would laugh breathlessly

- and that was the first time you saw Legoshi smile

- he usually never smiled because of his sharp teeth but now, his has kind of forgotten that he was wolf

- You smiled warmly as the two greeted each other with smiles and hugs and affection

- Legoshi’s head would be basically exploding he wouldn’t know what to do

- and what he ended up doing

- was crying

- for the first time, it hit him like a train,

- what hit him like a train? You might ask

- well it is…

- that nobody could love him if he didn’t open up and expose his trauma

- he has closed his doors and kept up his walls for so many people

- but this wolf, this wold, didn‘t know anything about boundaries

- all Tina knew was hunt, eat, sleep, love, repeat

- and that

- that made Legoshi cry tears of joy

- this wolf would never face the dangers that the world had to offer because she was with you

- and that was all it took for Legoshi to cry while smiling

SHEILA:

- I honestly have no idea what to do for her, she is such a side character oml

- POOR GIRL WAS SO CONFUSED

- “won’t there be like…herbavore’s there…?”

- she would ask as she shifts her feet in discomfort

- “not for now…although I do plan to open it to both herbavore’s and carnivore’s!”

- you cheerfully boasted as the cheetah looked at you through narrowed eyes

- “I don’t think we should mix with the—“

- “for the love of God, shut the hell up!”

- she gets very worried when she goes through the butterfly section in fear of hurting the precious creatures

- you had to calm her down and actually go through the steps with her on how to not hurt a butterfly

- she mostly spent her time with the cheetah‘s and butterfly’s so she got a little pouty when you said it was time for her to meet the wolf

- I mean she didn’t even LIKE wolves so why did she have to put up with one!?

- but when she got into the area her blood ran cold

- right in front of her was the largest white wolf she had ever seen with menacing yellow eyes and long sharp teeth and matching razor sharp claws that could most certainly kill a butterfly AND her with no effort whatsoever

"This is Tina she was the runt of the litter and was rejected by her mother so I raised her and look how big she has grown"

- you stated as you started scratching Tina’s ears

- Sheila calmed down almost instantly when she heard the soft whimpers and the way Tina positioned her head so she wouldn’t accidentally bite your hand off

- that was actually really nice of Tina

- so once you got done petting Tina Sheila started to gently soak Tina’s back

- the swipes where soft and filled with meaning behind every stroke

- she ended up sleeping with the friendly giant on her lap like she was a puppy

- and you of course took pictures so the Drama Club could see that Their amazing club meme bear had a soft spot for Tina too

- and it got on the first page of the News

[tamagochiie]

soulmate au

synopsis. where the haikyuu bois can hear when their soulmate is singing (whether it be in another universe or theirs)

character roster. oikawa tooru, iwaizumi hajime, kenma kozume, kuroo tetsuroo, tsukishima kei, yamaguchi tedashi, sugawara koushi, daichi sawamura, hinata shoyo, bokuto kotarou, akaashi keiji 

genre. fluff

a/n. this has been in my drafts for over a month now, and i really wanted to write this properly after finishing up my finals... i saw a lot of tiktoks about this and i was  i n s t a t n l y  hooked. 

oikawa tooru —> it happens during his high at the final moments of the game; breaths ragged as sweat drips down from his face, the crowd chanting his name when he sends the ball flying over to the opposing court. his ego is flying dangerously close to the sun when the quiet hum of your voice has him jolt in place—feet completely glued to the floor. he'll try to brush it off and try to focus back on the game at hand, but there's a thrum of excitement in his chest when he hears you loud and clear.  

its a moment he's been waiting for, but out of all times, why now? his eyes will sweep through the bleachers, hoping to see that you might be close by, but the poor boy's out of luck. even more so, when the buzzer screeches in the stadium does oikawa gravitate back to reality, your singing no longer ringing in head does he realize he's cost the whole team their winning point. 

iwaizumi hajime  —> he's in the middle of a nap during lunch, ignoring his friends who're eating by his side; oikawa's persistent chattering drowns out the noise in the classroom. so he gets up and leaves, knowing full well he'll never be able to get the peace he deserves if he stays a minute longer. 

he threads his fingers through his hair, trying to subside his headache as he stumbles down the hall to look for a place to sleep. he'll eventually make a home out of a creaky wooden bench just outside the art room, settling uncomfortably on the fragile wood.

he'll miss it at first, thinking you were just one of the girls passing by. actually, he misses it completely by assuming it as such. but he doesn't mind it as it helps him fall asleep; he makes mental note to find you, making the mistake of assuming you're not anywhere else except here.

kenma kozume —> "who the fuck is singing?" is what kenma hisses as he clicks away, harshly pressing down on the keys in a switch motion. his lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowed into a deep line as the screen of his computer ; he's been streaming for hours with kuroo and levi.

kenma is not a believer of soulmates, and the boy dreaded the moment he'd have to hear your voice uninvitingly taking up room in the space he felt the safest: his head. as you sing to the top of your lungs, enjoying the high of a chorus, unbeknownst to you the effect it had on the poor gamer boy who had all the hours he spent playing go to waste, he's just been given more reason to hate you than to love you.

kuroo tetsuro —> a smile creeps across his lips when he hears you sing, setting his textbook down before he slumps against the wooden backrest of his chair. he's been wondering when he'd hear from you; he always made sure he was in a quiet space so he'd hear you loud and clear. he flutters his eyes shut, craning his head back as his body eases to the sound of your voice. you weren't the best singer, but to kuroo you were the sweetest sound he could ever hear.

tsukishima kei —> he has a sharp tongue, but who would've thought there'd be a day when he'd open his mouth to fire insults at certain blueberry boy only to have nothing—not even a crack in his voice—slip out. his mouth goes dry instantly as he stands there dumbfounded as  yamaguchi. somehow, the oh-so golden crown that usually rests well atop tsukki's head has fallen to the gentle sound of your singing.

though tsukki had always placed himself in a pedestal, looking down on other from where he stood, there was always a lingering insecurity that he'd never get a soulmate in this lifetime—or in any lifetime. so when he hears your voice in his head, there's a twinge of hope in his heart at the thought there's someone meant for him.

yamaguchi tadashi —>  he's blushing quite profusely, slapping his hand onto tsukki's mouth without giving the action as much as a thought as excitement overrides him, catching tsukki off guard. he can finally hear you, and he almost misses it if it weren't for his best friend's pride.

yamaguchi rests his eyes, fluttering them shut as he and his lanky friend stop in the middle of the hallway, not minding those who brush past him as he dwells in the sound of your voice.

"she's so beautiful," yamaguchi sighs, moving his hand off of tsukki's lips and onto his chest, "i wanna marry her."

"how can you say she's beautiful?" tsukki seethes, spitting away the salty aftertaste of his best friend's hand. "you haven't even seen her yet."

"with a voice like that, i already know she is."

sugawara koushi —> the amount of force he uses when he slaps his teammates on the back is the same amount of force that presses against his heart when he hears you singing, voice cracking ever so often as you try to reach the high notes. happy isn't a word he could describe the little pitter patter of feet squishing his stomach. happy is not a good enough word for sugawara to describe how he feels after finally getting to hear you sing.

she must really like this song, sugawara thinks to himself as mutes his teacher's chattering. he'll close his eyes, listening to you and your words carefully before scribbling the lyrics onto his notebook, keeping note to search the song later. it's a habit sugawara will eventually grow into every time he hears your voice, thinking he'll get to know you a bit better by listening to your favorite songs.

sugoi, he gasps in wonder, lips curving into a smile. its a soft ballad, foreign to his ears, but he'll mouth along to your singing and continue on with his jog.

daichi sawamura —> it happens in the middle of his morning jog while listening to music. he'll take off his earbuds, tapping against the plastic because he thinks his earphones one of his broken when your voice overlaps with the bands he's listening to. it takes him a while, but when he pauses his music, its only then does he realize what's going on.

hinata shoyo —> he sprints to kageyama, slapping him in the back while he's about to practice a toss, "i can hear her! i can hear her!" is what the sunshine boy screams, tugging onto the sleeve of his best friend as he hears your voice. "i can finally hear her!"

still clinging onto the material of kageyama's jersey, earning a grunt and a curse, hinata flutters his eyes shut and focuses on the sound of your voice. he doesn't understand the lyrics or the tune of the song you're singing, but its you—your voice that has his heart thumping against his ribcage, breaths hitching in his throat, drying his lips. the same high he rides in the middle of the game rises from the pit of his stomach and spreads a warm feeling across his chest.

and for the first time, the bright boy has something else to beam about other than a sport.

bokuto kotarou —>  his eyes dilate as his lips curve into a toothy grin, cheeks blushing a peachy color when he hears you, his soulmate, the one and only person he can finally call home. your voice isn't the prettiest nor is it the smoothest, but it belongs to the one he'll get call his—his whole world. he's spent his whole life imagining what it'll feel like when he hears you; maybe his hairs will stand on its ends, a tickle down his spine, or maybe he'll know what it feels like to forget how to breathe. But instead, he's learns what it means to be at peace, to feel the world turn beneath his feet as focuses on nothing but the sound of your voice.

he drops everything in his hands, his attention slipping away from the front of the class and onto you. he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, tuning out everything else as he listens to you stumbling over your words as you try to sing  properly.

cute, is the last thought bokuto spares before sinking back into his chair.

akaashi keiji —> its a small smirk that plays across this quiet boy's lips. there's a slight tug in his heart as his stomach folds into itself. the quiet mumble of your singing washes out the background noise of bokuto's shouting echoing the gym.  he shuts his eyes, fiddling with the ball in between his hands as he listens to you.

he'll bob his head to beat of your words, even humming a little once he's caught the tune. his teams watch him from the side, brows furrowed while a few mouths hang open. he looks strange, but akaashi is too invested in the moment he shares with you to think twice about what he might look like.

*i'm still not convinced that i can properly write my bbies from inarizaki, so until then, please bare with me hahu

[sapphicquill]

TAZ Balance: the truth will set you free

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen 

Characters: Taako, Kravitz, Magnus

Wordcount: 2942

“You’re fuming, dear.” 

Taako turns to look at Kravitz when the reaper speaks, trying not to let the thin frown fall off of his face at the sight of his uncharacteristically smug dead boyfriend. From his spot as Taako’s personal body pillow, Magnus laughs quietly.

“I can’t believe he convinced you to teach him this shit,” Taako says with an exaggerated huff. The elf crosses his arms tightly across his chest, sticking his chin up haughtily to hammer home his petulence. Magnus laughs again, the vibrations of it rumbling through Taako’s back like a purr. Taako very courteously does not throw an elbow backwards into the fighter’s stomach, despite how much he would enjoy doing just that. Kravitz lets out a hum, smirk not quite leaving his unfairly handsome face. 

“It’s not my fault Angus got curious about multiclassing as a bard,” the reaper finally says. And, as much as Taako was loath to acknowledge it, Kravitz is right. Taako groans theatrically and pointedly does not actually respond like an adult, because fuck that. 

Angus had approached Taako after one of their lessons together--much less frequent than they once were, before Lucas had gotten the idea to start up a small magic school, but Angus seemed content to return to his first (and clearly superior) tutor whenever the chance presented itself. But instead of asking for some sage wisdom or deeply insightful advice from Taako himself, Angus had asked for confirmation that Kravitz had been a bard before becoming a reaper, then begged for Taako to bring him along for their next lesson. 

Kravitz had been over the moon when Taako begrudgingly explained the situation, and the reaper wasted absolutely no time in devising a lesson plan for the boy detective. Taako had to work especially hard to keep from swooning over his boyfriend’s enthusiasm and instead sulked to their other boyfriend about the cruelty of life. (Magnus had been very little help, the bastard. Taako left with a disgruntled whine when the fighter started theorizing on how to convince Ango that learning some rogue skills could be helpful too, the absolute traitor.) 

“You want to know what I think?” Kravitz asks after another moment of silence. Taako frowns as he finally lets his gaze meet the reaper’s eyes directly. 

“Not particularly, but something tells me you’re going to keep talking anyway, you dick.”

“You’re jealous.”

Taako feels himself freeze for half a second before he can pull himself together. Damn Kravitz for knowing him so well. Damn him and Magnus for making him feel comfortable enough to even let himself be read that easily. Damn them both.

“Oh fuck right off, you’re full of shit,” the elf tosses back almost automatically through gritted teeth. 

“Hey, play nice,” Magnus teases, poking Taako in the side. The unexpected jab sends a fluttering shockwave through the startled wizard, who squeaks before he can catch himself. Kravitz continues to look on smugly, not breaking eye contact with Taako as he scoots further up the bed and closer to the other two. 

“You’re very precious when you get all wound up like this, love,” he murmurs. Taako shifts, instinct telling him to pull away and hide, to clam up and put up an even harder front. A quiet voice that sounded worryingly sweet and comforting tells him to just come clean to the both of his boyfriends. It wasn’t like they didn’t know he was secretly a soft, if somewhat emotionally-deficient, sap. Magnus had definitely figured it out somewhere along that first hundred years, and Kravitz was frighteningly perceptive.

A sudden weight around his waist distracts Taako from the beginning of whatever bullshit emotional spiral he’s about to fall into, his body automatically pulling against the sudden restriction. Though the warmth of Magnus’ arms encircling him from behind sends an innate sense of calm through him, the elf nearly pulls something in his neck as he whips his head toward the human because Magnus, what the actual hell. Magnus has the decency to look a bit sheepish, but resolutely does not let go. 

“Mags…” Taako growls, narrowing his eyes and trying to look intimidating despite the growing fluttering of excitement in his stomach. He’s quickly figuring out Magnus’ plan and is now desperate to not show his hand because fuck, this got different, fast. This somehow turned into Taako goading his boys into absolutely wrecking him for being a stubborn piece of shit, which he hadn’t even considered as an outcome when this mock argument had started. Now, however, his mind is three steps ahead, already craving the feeling of his partners’ touches driving him insane.

Because here’s the thing—Taako, maybe, kinda, sorta actually likes getting tickled. He absolutely would never say as much, even under pain of death (and he is really familiar with how  fucking painful death can be), and the only other being in the multiverse that probably knows is Lup because, duh, twin sister or whatever. So it was always imperative Taako never let on in any way he didn’t exactly hate it when Magnus and Kravitz, whether alone or together, decide to tickle him stupid. He would probably implode from the embarrassment—and what a dumb fucking way to go after everything else. No, that wouldn’t do at all. 

Thus, it’s second nature for the elf to throw out menacing glares and cutting threats, which is exactly what he does as he feels Magnus flex his fingers and rest them at the center of his stomach. He’s unable to resist flinching at the sudden light touch to his bare midriff, though—damn, why did he and Lup convert the majority of his wardrobe into crop tops? 

Movement at the other end of the bed catches his attention, so he redirects back to Kravitz, face pinched and pout sufficiently exaggerated. 

“It’s quite alright, Taako, really,” the reaper says, affecting the tone he usually saves for puppies and small children, the absolute ass, “You’re allowed to want to be Angus’ favorite.”

“Shut up, I do not—” 

The remainder of Taako’s protest is swallowed by a sharp gasp as Magnus draws his fingers across Taako’s stomach with a quick flick

“Do you really think you’re in any position to be bitchy right now?” the human says, smile evident despite his gruff tone. Taako feels his ear twitch as Magnus’s breath skates across his skin and it takes every ounce of concentration he has to not shiver or let out a breathy half-laugh. Instead the elf remains as still as possible, frown almost ridiculously exaggerated and eyes narrow slits focused on Kravitz. The reaper adopts an over-the-top pout—no doubt meant to mock Taako’s own expression—and draws ever closer to Taako and Magnus. 

“Magnus, maybe you could help me convince our beloved to be more honest, hm?” 

The words have barely left Kravitz’s mouth when Taako feels Magnus begin to slowly drag his fingertips across his exposed stomach. Tiny zings of tickly sensation burst across Taako’s skin like low-level electricity and somehow keeping still and silent is the hardest thing Taako’s ever done in his life. He can’t, however, keep the warm bubbling feeling of anticipation and excitement from flooding his entire body, and that, of course, makes keeping still even fucking harder. 

Magnus’ fingers trail lightly across Taako’s abdomen before slowly gliding up his sides. Without really meaning to, Taako squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will himself into a trance by force. This clearly amuses both of his boyfriends, as their joint chuckles echo in stereo in the sudden darkness. Taako feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move and he’ll cascade off the side and plunge ten thousand feet—

Then Magnus’s devilish touch reaches the top of his ribs and the dam breaks. 

A steady stream of hiccuping giggles pours from Taako as Magnus gently skitters light tickles across one of Taako’s absolute worst spots and even without looking, the elf can tell that his boyfriends have both got gleeful expressions on their stupid fucking faces. He squirms, trying in vain to block out the torturous sensation of Magnus’ fingers or escape their attack altogether, but that just seems to encourage the fighter. Feather-light scritches instantly turn into fast, fluttering pinches and quick vibrating prods and Taako would be embarrassed about how quickly he dissolves into full-fledged laughter if he wasn’t so busy absolutely losing his mind. 

“Ready to admit you secretly adore Angus yet, love?” Kravitz asks from far too close, Taako can tell he’s almost pressed up against his chest, but fucking of course he isn’t. He can practically hear the mischievous grin in the reaper’s voice when he shakes his head. 

“You leave me no choice, then.” 

Over the sounds of his increasingly frantic laughter, Taako can hear Kravitz speaking the incantation for Zone of Truth, and he’s sure Krav’s crimson eyes are sparkling with mirth. The unique sensation of enchantment magic washing over him barely phases the elf—he’s too preoccupied with Magnus’ deft hands flitting up and down his ribs to really pay it much mind. Taako squeezes his eyes even tighter and attempts to focus on resisting the truth spell, gasping around his laughter, trying to push past the way his nerves feel like they’ve been set alight so he can focus—

And then promptly fails his save. 

Of course he fails his save. How could he possibly concentrate on resisting a Zone of Truth from a powerful ex-bard-turned-Grim-Reaper with Magnus’ fucking fingers skittering across his abdomen, drawing squeaky, desperate laughter from him like water from a well? 

“Now, come on, dove, be honest with us.” 

And then Kravitz is tickling him too, on top of concentrating on a fucking spell, his nimble musician’s fingers skittering ruthlessly across Taako’s hips, and it’s impossible to think about anything other than the fluttering in his stomach, the laughter forcing its way out of his lungs, the pleasant fuzziness already clouding his mind. He can’t even remember Krav’s question, really. Taako’s brain feels like it’s been filled with cotton (but like, in a good way) and he can barely string two thoughts together before giving up thinking altogether. 

“Admit it, Taako, tell us the truth,” Kravitz purrs directly into Taako’s ear and even that tickles like hell, and between that and the two pairs of hands currently wreaking ticklish havoc on him, it feels like every wire in Taako’s brain is crossing simultaneously. He wants this to end and also never wants this to end, why can’t his boyfriends wreck him like this constantly, it’s not fair—

“Tell us, Ko, come on!” Magnus whines, seemingly trying to match Taako’s usual petulant tone as he drills his fingers into the wizard’s underarms and knocks his laughter up at least ten decibels, and that’s what pushes Taako to open his big, stupid mouth. He means to say something about the dumb boy detective, he really does, but instead all he can think about is Kravitz and Magnus making him scream and laugh and thrash around with teasing words and fluttering fingers and, well—

“I—I—” Taako’s voice breaks on a laugh, brain going a million miles an hour and also stuck in the mud simultaneously.

“Yes dear, that’s it, come on, out with it,” Kravitz says while rubbing incessantly ticklish circles into Taako’s sides. And that finally pushes an answer out of Taako, who manages to push through his laughter long enough to speak. 

“I fucking like being tickled, okay?—Shit—!”

Suddenly, the two pairs of hands on Taako’s skin still, and as his laughter slowly dies down, the full impact of what he’d just actually admitted to hits the elf like a cartload of bricks. Fuck. Shit.

Weirdly, instead of instant fiery panic, Taako is filled with a sense of...calm? It’s like someone hit pause on the entire fucking universe. Taako keeps his eye closed and resolutely doesn’t think about what just happened; doesn’t think about anything, other than a burning sense of mortification and the deepest desire for a hole to open up and swallow him up. 

“Nope, okay, that’s—I didn’t—no, fuck this,” Taako mumbles as he sits up, easily breaking out of Magnus’ hold. With eyes still closed he leaps up from the large bed and has half a mind to burn a Teleportation spell to get as far away from his boyfriends as possible before feeling a cool hand wrap around his wrist. Taako can identify the feel of Kravitz’s touch almost alarmingly well, and normally he sinks into it without more than a few grumbled faux-complaints. Here and now, the wizard doesn’t instantly pull his arm from Kravitz’s grasp like he desperately wants to, but he doesn’t move toward him either. Instead, he keeps his eyes closed and pretends he’s literally anywhere else. 

“Taako, wait,” and that’s Magnus’ voice, the one that always makes a small part of Taako melt because it’s so full of genuine love and affection and care and fuck, he has to open his eyes and face the two men he actually definitely loves, shit. He braces himself, not exactly sure what expressions might adorn the faces of his boyfriends but he’s prepared for the worst. 

The first thing Taako sees when he opens his eyes is, unsurprisingly, Kravitz, as the reaper is closer to him. What does surprise Taako is the look Kravitz is giving him. The other man looks—apologetic? 

“Taako, I’m so sorry,” Kravitz starts, and Taako feels his heart stutter a bit, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I should never have cast Zone of Truth and forced you to tell us that.”

And that—

That’s not what Taako had expected to hear come out of Kravitz’s mouth. He’d more or less thought, at the very least, he’d get laughed at. Made fun of. Belittled. Shamed. This is—far from all of that. 

“I—what?” 

If it had been any other time, Taako would have congratulated Krav for actually rendering him fucking speechless, because that’s a rarity. As it is, Taako can’t do much of anything aside from gape, gaze not leaving Kravitz’s crimson eyes. 

“The spell, it didn’t compel you but it forces you to be truthful, and you clearly weren’t ready to tell either of us that you—” 

At this, Kravitz seems to pause, looking like he’s attempting to phrase his words as carefully as possible while still turning over this new information in his mind. Luckily, Magnus, as he always seems able to, picks up right where their Grim Reaper leaves off. 

“You’re totally waiting for us to roast you or something, aren’t you?” 

Fuck, has Magnus always been this perceptive? Taako could have sworn he was oblivious as all hell but no, this is the man he’s known for over a century, of course Magnus knows all his tells. 

“Well, we’re not going to,” the fighter barrels forward, always fucking rushing in, and Taako isn’t sure whether he wants to dive back onto the bed or Misty Step to the front porch to call Lup on the Stone of Farspeech and just scream. 

“Why would we? It’s not like you’ve told us something weird or bad or anything,” Kravitz adds, finally out of his own head. He sounds a little frantic, like he desperately needs Taako to believe him and fantasy Christ, Taako loves him for it. 

“Honestly, it’s kind of adorable,” Magnus adds. Taako finally cocks his head enough to meet the human’s eyes and he’s known Magnus long enough to tell when he’s lying. 

He’s absolutely not lying. 

The sense of relief that Taako expects to flood through him comes in waves. His heart is still beating a million miles an hour (which he hadn’t even noticed, fuck) and it still feels like he could cook a five course meal using only the heat collected on his face, but his desire to run and hide and sulk is retreating, and the space between Magnus and Kravitz is looking more and more inviting by the second. 

It’s the most natural thing in the entirety of the planar system for Taako to lower himself back onto the bed and resume his position lounging against Magnus. Quiet descends on the room and it’s warm, comfortable. 

“We should probably have a real conversation about this later,” Kravitz says, and Taako surprises himself by humming in agreement rather than groaning in protest. 

“Later,” he concedes, and then Magnus is shifting again and Taako’s about to grouse about how a moving pillow is a pretty shitty pillow when—

“So if you actually like getting tickled—”

An involuntary shudder shoots down Taako’s back at this, at Magnus’ voice curling around that word, fuck, and suddenly the great brute’s hands are back on Taako’s ribs and his fingers are slowly tracing Taako’s skin and it’s like a bolt of lightning through his entire consciousness. 

“Then you won’t mind if Krav and I get back to work, huh?”

Despite quickly being overcome by tittering giggles, Taako can sense a voiceless conversation happening over him, and then Kravitz is back in his space and his hands are inching up Taako’s thighs, squeezing and stroking lightly as they go. 

“Yes, Magnus is right—you never actually told us what we really wanted to hear, love,” Kravitz purrs, mischief and affection so clear on his face that there’s no room for Taako’s anxiety to even attempt to convince him of something horrible.  

So instead of spiraling into a pit of despair, Taako revels in the wide grin pulling at his lips, savors the electric sensations rippling across his nerve endings, and laughs. 

[burning-the-write-oil]

Fire Meets Gasoline

Summary: Reader and Javier have been sleeping together for a while. This is a bit of an insight into their “relationship.” classy way of me saying it’s pwp

Characters: Javier Peña/F!Reader

Words: 2k (this is a big deal for me)

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: Explicit sexual references, references to fwb relationship, penetration, swearing, dirty talk, vague references to oral (m), praise kink.

A/N: I don’t have an explanation as to why I wrote this. I just really love Javi and want him to destroy me, if I’m being honest. This is probably the most explicit thing I’ve written, so it might work or it might not. Hope you enjoy! Please like, reblog, and comment! Also, feel free to send some Din Djarin or Javier Peña requests.

Masterlist

Two months ago, you would’ve been in front of the mirror in your bathroom fixing your hair, making sure you smelled good, even putting on a bit of makeup. Obsessing about your appearance. That was when you first started sleeping with Javier Peña. As you two saw each other more, the less you obsessed about how you looked. Especially since this man had seen your hair a mess with mascara tears dripping down your face while on your knees for him. He didn’t care whether you had just come home from a workout or if you had forgotten to shave that day. Those things didn’t bother him and once you understood that, everything was a lot easier.

Your interactions mostly consisted of him coming over to your place when you got off work. Lips on yours almost instantly after you opened the door for him to walk in. Sometimes he’d let himself in if you left the door unlocked, chiding you about someone coming in and hurting her as he placed teasing kisses along your neck. Seeing Javi was something that went from once every few weeks to now every week. With him being around more often, you started to come to the assumption he had stopped hooking up with some of the women from the brothel. He didn’t have to. You two weren’t together. That was made clear when you first started hooking up. You both were allowed to see and sleep with other people. Until you steadily began to lose interest in the men you would encounter on nights out with friends. And Javi started showing up more. You didn’t really know what you were at all.

Tonight was a little different. You’d brought home some tacos from one of the food trucks on your way home. There were few occasions where you and Javi would eat when he got there, usually finding something to eat in the kitchen after you’d tired each other out. You taught English at a school in Bogotá and had barely had any time to eat your lunch today as you worked on preparing lessons for the upcoming weeks. You wanted food. 

You reached for the keys in your pocket before starting to unlock the door and then realizing it was unlocked. You immediately tensed. You knew you locked the door before going to work this morning. Taking a deep breath, you slowly opened the door and carefully stepped in, gripping your keys in your hand. Walking into the apartment and immediately looking to the living room you spotted your intruder. Asleep on the couch.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Javi jolted at the sudden sound of your voice before looking over in your direction and sitting up. He didn’t have a key so the last thing you were expecting was to find him on the couch.

“You left your spare key at my place.” He answered, running a hand over his face as he sat up and began to wake up from his nap.

You nodded slowly, walking towards the kitchen to set the takeout bag on the counter.

“You got to nap. Lucky you.”

Javi scoffed, getting up from the couch and stretching before making his way over to you.

“Barely. I finished work a little early and figured I’d come here a little earlier. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Just didn’t expect it.” You turned to face him with a small smile, reaching down to pull off your heels.

Javi was already kneeling in front of you, gently reaching for your foot and looking up at you. Your smile grew as you braced a hand on the counter edge before lifting your foot for him to remove your heel. He set the shoe to the side, placing a soft kiss on your calf before doing the same to remove your other shoe. You felt warmth spread across your body as he slowly stood before you.

“Thank you.” You say softly, bringing your hand up to gently run across his jaw.

He leans into your touch ever so slightly, deep brown eyes searching your expression, “You’re tense.”

Sighing with a nod, you move your hand away to remove the clip from your hand that held your hair in a loose bun.

“I think I can help with that.” His voice lowering ever so slightly, as it usually did when he was turned on.

You grin, standing on your toes slightly to press a quick kiss to his lips and slowly moving to nuzzle against the side of his neck. You inhale the scent of cigarette smoke and his cologne before playfully biting at the skin of his neck. You hear him hiss in surprise and you smirk before you maneuver around him into the kitchen.

“That sounds amazing, but I also need to eat and brought home takeout. So, you’re going to let me eat the tacos I got, then I’m all yours.” 

He exhales slowly with a smirk, watching as you open up the bag and begin pulling out food.

“You’re a fucking tease.” He shakes his head and you shrug with a small grin.

“Did you get some for me?” He asks, leaning against the counter.

“No, they’re all for me.” You teased with a laugh before offering him one of the boxes.

You both ended up sitting on the couch with the takeout, and two bottles of beer. Your feet rested on Javi’s lap as you ate. You two were touching almost constantly when you were around each other. It was a comfortable silence, both of you talking about parts of your day as you enjoyed your food. A different start that would end the same as any other. Bruises on your hips and inner thighs. The residual ache of being sated between your thighs. And you were looking forward to the state of the makeup you wore that day by the end of the night.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh my god, Javi!”

You were sure your moans could be heard down the hall of your apartment. This wouldn’t be the first time you both had gotten a noise complaint. Your vision was hazy as his hands gripped at your hips as he helped lift them up and down as you rode him. You whimpered at the delicious drag of the head of his length as it slid along your walls clenching around him. His pants and occasional grunts could be heard as his eyes focused on your expressions. Your back was arched, hands pressed on his chest as he guided you to grind against him.

“Eres tan hermoso cariño.” He growled, lifting his hips abruptly to meet yours as you ground your clit against the curls at the base of his length.

He was quick to help you off his lap and onto your hands and knees towards the end of the bed, your chest flush against the sheets with your ass up towards him. His hands grip your hips again, bringing one down to line up his length at your entrance. He slowly thrusts into you, filling you again with a soft groan. Your hands grip the sheets as you moan and it’s not long before Javi’s pulling your hips back to meet his. The sound of your moans, his grunts, and his hips hitting your ass are easily heard as he steadily thrusts into you.

“God, you are so fucking good for me. Such a good girl for me.” He pants, and you’re unable to respond as he continues to fill you again and again.

“You should see- god, fucking look how good you take me. Always take me so well.”

“Don’t stop, please,” You beg, your arms struggling to hold you up.

“Why would I stop when you’re being such a good. girl.” He punctuates each word as he roughly thrusts into you.

You start to feel your walls clench around him even tighter as you feel your orgasm approach.

“Javi, I’m gonna come.” You whimper, “Please!”

He slows his thrusts and you whine as he moves his hands from your hips briefly to gently caress your sides, over your ribs, and along the curves of your torso. You gasp when a sharp smack your ass brings your attention back to him and not how tightly wound you are right now.

“I wanna feel you come around me, hermosa.” You feel him press his chest against your back, pressing kisses along the side of your neck.

You nod quickly and his hands are immediately back on your hips as he resumes the rough pace he was thrusting into you. It’s not long before you feel your orgasm rush over you and you moan his name, telling him how good he feels. After a few more thrusts, you hear him moan as he pulls your hips flush against him. He’s growling your name as he comes and is leaning down to press kisses along the length of your back before he slowly pulls out of you. Your heart rate is still quick as you breathe heavily, turning to lay on your side. You hear Javi get off the bed to throw away the condom and get a rag to clean you up. 

He’s gone for maybe a minute before you hear him walk back over to you, sitting on the side of the bed. He comes back with a washcloth and a glass of water that he sets on the bedside table. He brings a hand up to gently brush away a few strands of hair covering your face and gently maneuvers your legs to clean you with the warm washcloth. Anyone who thinks Javier Peña is the type of man to fuck a woman and immediately have her leave right after is wrong. Aftercare is an absolute. He sits the washcloth to the side, brushing his knuckles along your cheek.

“You alright?” He asks you with a small smirk, as he looks down at you.

You nod with a smile, your body sated and completely tired out in the best way possible.

“You’re too good to me, Javi.” You mumble, slowly sitting up and looking over the bed for your underwear.

Javi reaches to grab them off the floor before you can even move and hands them to you before grabbing his pair of jeans off the floor and standing to pull them on. You pull your underwear back on before moving to lay back against the pillows, reaching over to grab the glass of water he placed over there. You take a few sips of the water as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He picks one out, bringing it to his lips, and makes his way over to the window in your bedroom as he normally does. He opens the window, lighting the cigarette and standing by the window as he smokes.

You set the glass back on the table, moving to get under the sheets and spread out on the bed as you watch him. It’s rare occasions Javi stays the night. It’s only happened two other times. Both times not involving sex and were when you needed him there, after a really bad day. You always hoped he did. The warmth and secure feeling of his arms around you always helped you sleep better. You silently watched him as he finished and closed the window, making his way back over to you. His eyes met yours and he paused for a moment, looking at you and down to the bed.

He walks over to the bed a moment later, crawling under the sheets beside you and laying on his back. You glance over at him and then up at the ceiling, biting your lip.

“Stay?” You ask, your voice quiet as your eyes remain focused on the ceiling, expecting a ‘no’.

He exhales through his nose and looks over at you for a moment before a soft smile spreads on his lips.

“Whatever you need, hermosa.”

You learned this was a different night.

[jaedore]

BINDING BONDS | 4

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parings: jung jaehyun x reader

genre: ceo!au, arranged marriage!au, consumption of alcohol, asshole/player Jaehyun, swearing

[ ◇ angst ]

note: BB deals with themes of mental and physical abuse, which can be upsetting for some readers. If you feel uncomfortable reading these types of plots, you are advised to not continue

a/n: just a little update before things get a lil crazy. i didn’t want the characters to go through so much so quickly, so enjoy this filler chpt!! also send me some feedback, i’d love to hear from you guys! ♡

[ 6.2 k ] 

You woke up to a throbbing headache and the sun shining in your face. You tried moving away from the light, but a firm pair of arms held you in place. Turning your head, you see Jaehyun sleeping peacefully behind you. You instantly jolt away from him, aghast that you two were in the same bed. 

Jaehyun stirs from the impact but immediately falls back asleep after mumbling incoherent words. Out of all the moments you’ve had with him, this is the first he held such placidity, you couldn’t help but see those features of his that everyone admires. Jaehyun’s skin coated with a honey tone that looked like it was made for a polished statue, the way his feather-like eyelashes kissed his cheeks, and the tint of his lips. It felt like you’ve done this before, admire him. 

Oh no, we didn’t...you looked down and realized you were wearing his shirt, clutching the black cotton between your fists. 

“You’re awake,” Jaehyun whispered, rubbing his eyes. 

“Uh yeah,” you avert your gaze elsewhere, even his morning voice made you jittery. 

“Don’t worry, we didn’t do anything,” he responded, looking at your disheveled state. 

Your hair was put in the worst bun possible, last night when Jaehyun was removing your makeup, your hair was all over your face so he had no choice but to put it up somehow. Since you slept in it, more hairs poked out making you look bizarre. The bare face you possessed brought out the puffiness of your cheeks and the swole in your lips. Jaehyun couldn’t help but look at you, who sat in his shirt. Considering that it was bigger on you, he noticed your shoulder poking out. Nervously, Jaehyun diverts his gaze elsewhere. 

“Then how did you get into my bed?” you asked, the last thing you remember was drinking to the sight of him and Chaeyoung at the after-party last night. 

“You wanted me to stay,” Jaehyun clarified. 

“And you listened to me?” you blurted, clearly frustrated with your actions. As you threw the blankets off, Jaehyun gently grasped your hand to stop you from leaving. 

“Y/n, please. About last night, I meant what I said at the Charity Ball,” he began.  

“I don’t know,” you brushed him off, standing up. 

“Please, just hear me out,” Jaehyun begged. 

You hesitated for a bit, what if he doesn’t mean his words? What if he just goes back to how he was? You inhaled enough air to inflate your lungs, making your decision. You sat back on your bed, crossing your legs, letting him continue. 

“I know what I did was wrong and nothing will ever justify it. I was just angry that I wasn’t allowed to find love for myself, I was angry that I couldn’t be with Chaeyoung. All of the words I said that tore you down, every action that I had done to hurt you, I take it all back. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that and I’m truly sorry. I know it’ll take a while for you to forgive me, but please, I want to apologize for everything.” Jaehyun looked up at you and you knew he genuinely meant what he said because you’ve never seen such misery in his eyes. 

You sat dazed in front of him, your mind couldn’t stop asking questions. Does he even mean all of this? “So what does this mean?” you looked up from your lap. 

“I don’t know, but I do want to try this out with you. I want to see if I can get there with you...no-” he shook his head, “-I want to get there with you and we can go as slow as you want!” 

You sat there thinking to yourself, you were so conflicted and guarded. Is this too soon? Is he just saying this to get in my head? 

“Please say something,” he pleaded, fiddling with his fingers. 

“I-“ you inhaled a sharp breath, “-I don’t know Jaehyun. We’ve been so hostile towards each other the entire time. This is toxic, this isn’t good and I don't want this.” you faltered. 

“Then what should I do?” Jaehyun asked, brows furrowed. As desperate as he sounded, he genuinely wanted to be better for you...and for himself. 

You didn’t know, you didn’t want to say anything because there was a lot that you wanted him to do, “Jaehyun,” you fumbled for the correct words, “I-your words really hurt me, don’t think I have the heart to trust and forgive you right now.”

“Oh,” he lowered his head, clearly disappointed. 

“I appreciate you apologizing though. I think it’s just going to take me some time to figure this out on my own.”

“Of course, take as much time as you needed,” he stood up and with soft steps, walked out of your room.

Why is he so sad in the way he walked? What happened yesterday and why is he suddenly acting differently? You threw your blankets aside and rested your hands on your propped up knees. Your pounding headache wouldn’t stop as you tried to recall the events that happened last night. You remember the vibrations of the blaring music, the flashing lights, the sheer coating of sweat on your body, Jaehyun dragging you away, the dried tears that stained your cheeks, and...you crying. Oh my gosh...you winced at your humiliating behavior as the conversation you had with Jaehyun came back. How can you be so stupid? Get your shit together, damn it y/n!

It took you a while to get yourself out of bed, you didn’t want to risk facing Jaehyun. Maybe that’s why he’s all apologetic now. You thought, citing your conversation with him from last night. When you finally heard the familiar sound of his door shutting, you got up to wash your face. It was then you realized you didn’t have any makeup on. Oh, he must’ve taken it off…

After getting yourself ready for the day, you walk downstairs and there’s a saturated aroma of savory breakfast food filling the air, “You made breakfast?” you walked down to see two sets of plates placed on the table filled with food. 

“Yes,” Jaehyun’s lips pressed together. 

“Oh, thank you.” 

“I’m sorry for not making you any last time,” he scratched the back of his head, “um, let’s eat.” 

If you were to be honest, the tension between you wasn’t exactly there, but it was just a little awkward. You sat across from each other in silence as you ate, the quietness was eating you alive so you took the courage to speak first.

“What happened last night?” you asked him, you just wanted confirmations of your thoughts. 

“Well” he began, “at the club, you got super drunk that you started dancing with one of my friends, Johnny Suh. So I took you home and...you started crying.” 

“Oh my gosh,” you rested your forehead on your palm, embarrassment washing over you, so everything I said was true. “Please don’t tell me what I said,” you held up a hand and continued eating your food. You already knew what you said, you just didn’t want to hear it from Jaehyun.

“Oh. Okay,” Jaehyun thought that maybe you were just embarrassed, but he also felt like you didn’t want to talk about how you truly felt. He figured he’d have to wait for you to be ready without being intoxicated. 

The day went on how it usually did, you both went to your rooms, this time leaving your doors opened a bit. Occasionally, you’d go to the kitchen to get a snack and you’d see him doing the same. Instead of just staring at each other with a void, a small nod would come.

It’s going to take time. Jaehyun reminded himself as he watched you go back up to your room.

You, on the other hand, you weren't handling it too well. You were so used to people coming and going as they pleased, that you’ve built yourself a wall. You’re just trying to be cautious because of the past and because of how Jaehyun regarded you. 

Your phone rang, interrupting you from your thoughts, “Hello?” 

“Hey, how are you doing?” Haewon asked. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You left me last night without telling me that you were leaving early with Jaehyun,” you knew your best friend was pouting on the other side. 

“I’m sorry, I was just really wasted,” you sighed, you needed to stop doing that. 

“Yeah I know, at least you got home safely,” Haewon commented, “he didn’t...yell at you again right?” 

“No.” 

“Oh really? What happened?” 

“Well this morning, Jaehyun apologized and said that he wanted to actually try. But I don’t know, Haewon. I really really don’t know what to do,” you faltered. 

“Really y/n? He apologized? And you’re going to really believe that? ” Haewon doubted. 

“I mean he sounded sincere,” you shrugged.

“Well, I don’t trust him at all! I hate the way he treats you. There’s no way he whole-heartedly meant it.” Haewon retorted. 

“We’ll see,” you huffed. 

“Anyways, I know you're still planning your collection for spring and summer, but I just wanted to check up on you. I hope you’re doing okay,” you felt her heartwarming smile melt your heart. 

“I’ll be okay,” you reassured her. 

“I’m serious, y/n! If he mistreats you again, Imma just have to come over and give him a little punching!” Haewon threatened. 

“No! Don’t!” you said in bewilderment, “Mark already did and it didn’t end looking good, so please, no more fights.” 

“What? Mark Lee? No way.”

You explained to her the situation of that morning, you still couldn’t erase the image of Jaehyun who looked defeated and contrite at the time. The way his full shoulders suddenly withered over his sturdy body, his firm hands collapsed beside him, and his eyes painted in poignant. The image stained your brain and no matter how much you tried forgetting it you couldn’t help but feel the slight twinge in your chest. 

You rushed the conversation, in hopes of ending the topic, “alright, it’s late and I have to get into the office early tomorrow. Goodnight, I’ll talk to you later,” you yawned. 

“Okay, love you,” Haewon replied. 

You hung up, feeling your stomach grumble. You’ve been in your room all day, you haven’t gone out to eat yet. You headed to the kitchen for a late snack and as you opened the fridge, you spotted a written note stuck to the top of a container.

[ I made some for dinner, but you seemed busy on the phone. Just heat it in the microwave until it’s the way you want it ] 

You took off the top, smelling the stir fry. You nodded, impressed that Jaehyun can actually cook. Once it was warm enough, you sat at the table and scrolled through emails.  You had more files that needed to be approved, hopefully, it wasn’t as much as the last round. Launching a new collection was definitely hard, especially when it’s for two seasons of the year, which meant two different concepts. You loved your job, but sometimes you wish that there were easier ways to approve things. 

“Good morning,” your mother greeted.

You pressed your lips together at the familiar sight on your desk. Once again, there were stacks of files sitting on your desk, so you had to literally move them to make room for yourself. As you sat down, you ordered the files from most urgent to least and immediately got to work. 

This time, you weren’t so harsh on yourself. You often took breaks and occasionally got food with your mother, you enjoyed the time you shared with her because it wasn’t often that you did. 

“How are you and Jaehyun?” 

“We’re...good,” you hummed, stirring the tea that sat before you. You watched as the tinted liquid swirled after your spoon in the glass cup, it went with the flow. Maybe I should too. 

“Honey, I know when you’re lying,” she took your hand in hers, almost as if she was trying to shield you from the dark world of being hurt. 

“Mother, really, we’re fine,” you sighed. You didn’t want to trouble her or stress her out, you both already have enough on your plate. 

“Just know that you can tell me anything, okay? I’m your mother.” 

“Of course,” you thinned your lips. 

When you came back to your office, you were persistent on finishing, so you worked hard until the series of words soon became blurred and your brain couldn’t absorb any more information. When you looked at the clock, it was suddenly 7pm. You felt the tension in your shoulders, rolling them back, you knew you needed to reward yourself before you started on another department. You strolled into the break room and brewed a cup of tea and sat at one of the closer tables, you heard a text from your phone. 

[ Jaek-ass: hey I made some food and stored it in the fridge again. Just reheat it when you come home ] 

You haven’t changed his name from your contacts, you were going to leave it at that for a bit. Of course, he was gentle in caring for you when you were wasted, you could still feel the warmth of his arms around you. Also when he apologized and when he made you dinner, but despite all that, you were so guarded. You know he was trying, but the hurt that he caused you was blocking you from accepting it. 

When you came home around 9, it seemed like Jaehyun was already in bed. He usually worked from home, but this week he was in the office. You envied how he always seemed to have it lucky, everything usually goes his way. You walked to the fridge to take out the container of food he prepared for you, this time it was macaroni and cheese. You chuckled as you set it in the microwave, you always ate this during your college days whenever you were pulling all-nighters. The taste brought you back to your old days. 

You found your mind wandering to Jaehyun and his old days. You wondered where he went to think and process his thoughts, who were the friends that made him laugh and formed those dimples of his, you didn’t know a lot of things. Did he talk to Chaeyoung yet? You sighed, they had so much history. You knew you were intruding into their relationship, but this was a situation that you couldn’t help. 

As you got ready for bed, you called Haewon for a little chat, before you moved in with Jaehyun, she would always come over and spend time with you. You missed her dearly, she was the crazy friend that always gave you a good time, but this time you wanted to talk seriously with her. You expressed to Haewon your concerns about letting your guards down and opening up to Jaehyun. She always knew you were guarded and always did her best to make you feel comfortable, but she felt like if you never let your walls down, there was going to be no one waiting for you. You huffed when she said that, all you wanted was to find someone for yourself… but maybe that person is you. 

“Well, I’m going to head to bed. You probably have a busy work schedule too, so go to bed, I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” Haewon bid. 

“You have no idea. Goodnight, love you,” you hung up the phone and threw yourself on the bed. It’s not like you can blame your parents for putting you in this position, this is all they know, they were put in this situation, and so were your grandparents. To be honest, it felt like a family curse.

When you woke up the next morning, Jaehyun had already left for work. Breakfast was stored and as you reheated it, you scrolled through your emails. The Designing Department had already sent digital images of rough drafts for the upcoming Spring-Summer collection. The designs didn’t look right, so you figured you’d have to go to their department today. You exhaled in annoyance, going down there meant that you weren’t able to work on the files, which means that everything you hoped to finish was going to be put back. 

“Morning sweetie,” your mother greeted from her desk. 

“Good morning mother, I have to go down to the Designing Department for a bit today, have my assistant call me if I'm needed.” you quickly set your bag and made your way.

You double-check your notes, making sure everything was ordered and organized. As the upcoming CEO, you had to have your life together. As the elevator doors open, you stride to the open doors that hold one of the most important assets of the company. 

“Good morning, Ms. y/l/n.” everyone greeted you. 

“Yes, good morning, everyone. Today we have a busy day, I went over the files that were sent to me and some adjustments need to be made. That being said, I want to work with the design processors first, we’ll get all of the designs done for the prototyping to begin today. Everyone, get to work!” You commanded, everyone dispersing into their job. 

You walked over to where the processors were, they were in charge of designing the outfits. The colors, patterns, print, and proportion were all done by them. Several of them had their head buried in their desk, Park Chaeyoung. There she was, sitting in her desk, solely focused on her designs. Her head perked up once you towered over her. 

“I heard you’re very good at designing-” you nodded at her drawings, “-may I take a look?”

“O-oh! Of course,” she handed you her stack of papers. 

You quickly scanned her sketches, her lines were delicately drawn with preciseness and the patterns complimented the outfit, she unexpectedly met your expectations. One thing that bothered you was that the colors didn’t harmonize well together, instead, they clashed. Nonetheless, you were still impressed. 

“They’re not bad,” you sighed, handing them back, “but I advise you not to play with the colors too much. The designs are very well drawn, but the colors clash too much. It makes it hard on the eye.” you advised her. 

“Yes, Ms. Y/l/n, thank you for the advice.” Chaeyoung bowed her head. 

You smiled back before drawing your attention to the rest of the team members. You went to each of them, making sure the designs were well correlated with the collection. You made sure to speak with every designer and ensure that everything corresponded. Every fabric, texture, detail, and sampling had to be perfect, there was no room to mess up. 

By lunchtime, you weren’t as close to finishing as you wanted to be, but you can tell that you lacked effort from the designing team. You huffed in annoyance, “alright, everyone, thirty-minute lunch, please. Be back as soon as possible!” you demanded. 

As you let the entire team to lunch, you sat and scanned over the designs again, ensuring everything was perfect enough to move on. You wrote corrections and notes here and there, so the processors knew what to revise and change.

Jaehyun sat in his office chair, fixated on the papers in front of him, his hair tousled, and his tie slightly loosened. Going over the accounting finances were a pain in the ass, he had to make sure everything was correct, and so far, they weren’t. The debits and credits were mixed up, even an elementary student could’ve figured it out. It wasn’t even better that he was meeting up with Chaeyoung at her place tonight. Jaehyun was going to clear things up with her and for once, he felt like he was doing the right thing. 

Back at Audace, as soon as the department was back, it was time to get to work. You gave the processors a few minutes before beginning the prototyping process. Not only was designing hard but so was sewing. Everything had to fit together, the fabric needed to be embedded, and it had to be the fabric that the outfit was designed for.  You glide the folded textile through the sewing machine, yarn connecting it into one. As you put the finished textile on the mannequin, you heard someone scolding. You turned your head to see the head department, Jieun, lecturing Chaeyoung as she held her head low. You walked over, hoping to alleviate the tension. 

“You should know better! Even if Ms. Y/l/n gives you thirty minutes, you only have twenty minutes! We are launching our Spring-Summer collection. We don’t have time to be flexible, we don’t even have time for lun-”

“Everything alright here Jieun?” You raised a brow. 

“Y-yes,-” she bowed, “-everything is okay.”

“Then let’s get back to work, we have a lot to do.” 

You led the Designing Department through the whole process in making the outfits. Textiles were sewn, fabrics were slipped on the mannequin, and outfits were completed. You sighed after completing a few, the department still had a few more to go and it was almost the end of everyone’s shift. Your fingers flowed through the silky fabrics of one of the blouses you put together, you were putting your whole heart and soul into this collection, you had to impress society that you were made to be the next CEO. A ring from your phone suddenly distracted you from your thoughts. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey y/n,” it was Jaehyun. 

“Hi, is everything okay?” It wasn’t usual for him to call you at all.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m just letting you know that I won’t be home until later tonight,” he said. 

“Oh, ok-” you paused, “-do you want me to leave you some dinner?” 

“No, that’s okay. I know you’re busy with work, just get some sleep when you get home. I’ll eat when I’m done.” Jaehyun said. 

“Okay,” you bid him goodbye and hung up the phone. 

You could hear the fatigue and stress in his voice. Maybe he’s busy at work, hopefully, he gets some sleep. You didn’t want to meet an angry Jaehyun again. You eluded your thoughts and got back to work, you figured that you’d be working overtime also, so you did your best to rush with preciseness. 

Jaehyun cleaned his desk, he grabbed his bag, ready to leave for Chaeyoung place. He hadn’t figured out what he was going to say to her, but he had a clear idea. 

“Goodnight Mr. Jung,” his employees bowed as he passed them. 

Once Jaehyun was driving on the road, his mind strayed to you. He wondered if you were okay at work, if you had a lot, and if you were taking breaks often. Jaehyun didn’t exactly know you, but he knew how stubborn you were, especially when it comes to work. You liked to plow through the work, you liked to get things done. Jaehyun sighed as his palms tightened on the steering wheel, he was nervous to talk to Chaeyoung. So many ‘what if’ scenarios flashed through his mind.

When Jaehyun pulled into Chaeyoung's parking lot, he felt his palm sweat. Uneasiness settled in his bones, he didn’t want to break her heart, he didn’t want to break the woman he loves. He’s already broken you, he didn’t want to break another, especially Chaeyoung. Jaehyun timidly walked up to her door, quietly knocking on it, hoping that the hush of it was heard. 

“Jaehyun!” she pulled him in for a hug, shutting the door behind him. 

“Hey,” Jaehyun gently pulled her away, “we need to talk.” 

Chaeyoung pulled him to her couch, she sat and grasped his hand sensing the seriousness, “Is everything okay?” 

“I-” Jaehyun rubbed his face, hoping it’d release some of the tension behind his expression, “-we need to stop.” 

“What do you mean?” Chaeyoung’s voice quieted. 

“This,” he pointed back and forth between them, “we need to end this.” 

“W-why? Did I do something wrong?” Her voice weakened.

Silence drapes the room as Jaehyun sits across Chaeyoung. He knows he has to tell her the truth, that’s what she deserves, but her reaction made Jaehyun anxious. Would she hate me? What if she never wants to see me ever again? He couldn’t afford to lose her, but at the same time, the guilt ate him alive every time the image of you flashed in his head. 

Jaehyun tangled his fingers through his hair. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he exhales, “I’m engaged to someone.” 

“What?” Chaeyoung’s eyes widen, “who?”

There was a long pause before Jaehyun can speak up, “Y/l/n Y/n,” he lowers his gaze at his fiddling hands. 

“My boss? You’re engaged to my boss?” Chaeyoung stood up appalled. 

“Please sit,” he begged. 

She yanked her hand from his, “How? Why? Since when?” 

“Since a while ago, we won’t be getting married until the summer. It’s for business, but honestly, I just don’t think my dad wants me to marry you,” he quietly scoffed, “Jung Corporation is a joint company with Audace.” 

Chaeyoung’s head falls into the palm of her hand, “I hate you. How could you do this to me? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” 

“Because I wanted to be with you! But I’ve treated y/n like shit and now...I want to try this with her,” Jaehyun whispered the last part. 

Chaeyoung sits in silence, before she releases a long-awaited sigh, “Please go,” she points to the door. 

“Ch-Chaeyoung, please,” he pleaded. 

“Get out, Jaehyun!” 

So as much as Jaehyun wanted to stay he knew he had no choice but to leave, he knew that you were probably waiting at home for him. This is now over and he knows that it’s time to focus on fixing this up with you, but he can’t help but feel the pain in his chest. For such a long time, he’s waited for Chaeyoung to come back from the states and start a life with him. Of course, things never work out for him. 

Before he drove home, Jaehyun drove to the edge of a cliff. The twinkling lights that lit the city helped him overlook his problems, it helps remind him his problems were only small. Jaehyun rested his head on the steering wheel, a choked cry came out, which grew into sobs about everything he’s done. Jaehyun wanted out, he didn’t want to be put through this, not anymore, but thought of you always reminded him that he wanted to be better. Even though he had you, his heart hurt for Chaeyoung, the memory of her crying, pointing out the door, telling him that she hated him would resonate in his mind. 

When you got home, Jaehyun hadn’t made it back yet, usually, he’d be home around 5 if he was ever late. You shrugged it off, making your way to the kitchen making dinner, and turning on some music. You were making your favorite dish, pad thai. Hopefully, Jaehyun liked it too because you were going to pack a little for him. 

The rice noodles that sauteed with the sauce and vegetables filled the kitchen with a delectable aroma. You set yourself a plate and a container for Jaehyun, leaving it uncapped to cool down. You sat by the table, munching on your dinner as you scrolled through your phone. You replied to text messages and emails that required your approval. 

“Maybe I should just stay later,” you sighed. Since you spent the day in the Designing Department, you didn’t get the chance to work on any other department files. You rubbed your temples in frustration, you were going to have to bring them home. You were never fond of bringing work home, you cherished the moment you had after work because it was your time to relax and be at peace. Work was work and whatever work you had you left it in your office until the next day, but everything was so demanding now. 

You didn’t want to think about it anymore, you set your phone down to enjoy the food in front of you, but you shortly heard the door open and a tired Jaehyun walked in. His hair was tousled, his tie was loose, and a couple of buttons were undone. His eyes held dark bags and were stained red, was he crying? Jaehyun looked at you curiously, to him, you looked overworked, considering you were still in your work clothes. 

“I just got home,” you answered, it was like you read his mind, “I made some pad thai and packed it in the fridge, just give me a second-” you got up from your chair, making your way to the fridge, “-I’ll heat this up for you.” 

“O-oh, you don’t have to. I can do that, just come finish your food.” Jaehyun stuttered. 

“It’s okay,” you already had the pad thai on a plate and placed it in the microwave.

You set the warm food in front of Jaehyun who seated himself beside your chair. You watched him from the corner of your eye, you wanted to see his reaction. 

“This is really good,” his eyes widened. 

“You like it?” you asked. 

“Yes, what is this?” Jaehyun asked, taking another bite. 

“Pad thai,” you replied, “when I was younger, my family and I would often take trips to Thailand. One of the chefs taught me how to make it since I like it so much.” 

Jaehyun nodded, continuing to eat as you quietly sat and finished yours. You offered to clean up and let him get ready for bed, but he was persistent in doing the cleaning, so you let him. You walked up to your room to get ready to shower, hoping that the hot water would release the tension in your shoulders. As it did, you couldn’t help but feel unsettled, you were typically good at giving people the cold shoulder, especially to Jaehyun, so why were you suddenly being considerate of him? You dug into your subconscious to see where your feelings were with him. You convinced yourself it was going to take time to forgive him, but your actions already said that you did. Colliding with your thoughts, you didn’t know who to listen to. 

It was late and you wanted to leave for work early in the morning, but as you laid in bed, you couldn’t stop shuffling in your sheets. Your body was physically drained, but your mind was everywhere. Why did he come home late? Was he crying? Your brows furrowed. You remembered how he looked at you when he came in, for a split second you thought you saw heartbreak and regret in his eyes. Maybe he went to go talk to Chaeyoung. You sighed. Only your thoughts of tomorrow could confirm it. 

So there you were, 5am, sitting in your office going through the files. With your tea beside you, the shuffling of papers swayed the steam coming from the cup, almost cooling it down. 

By the time your mother came in, you had finished the Marketing Department’s files. “You’re here early. When did you come?” Your mother set her bag on her desk. 

“5,” you said, grabbing the files leaving the office. 

You stood alone in the elevator, employees coming and going. On the 5th floor, Chaeyoung stood wide-eyed as the doors opened to the sight of you. She bowed and quickly came in, standing a few feet from you, you saw how she tightly held onto the files in her hands. You figured she had to drop some paperwork off at another apartment, but your assumptions stood true, Chaeyoung’s eyes were swollen, bags shadowed beneath her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, even though you saw her yesterday. 

The two of you stood silent until the 4th floor was met, you nodded to her and left for the Marketing Department. On your stroll there, you could hear whispers occurring as you passed by. The Marketing Department was notorious for gossiping, they knew many of the present trends and updated buzz. Usually, they spoke about you, but a familiar name was called and you slightly stiffened. 

“Did you see the pictures of Jaehyun at the after-party?” one of them said. 

“No, show me!” another begged.

“They’re blurry, but isn’t he handsome???” the girl gawked. 

“Who’s that girl he’s carrying?” another asked, frustration glazing her question. 

“I’m not sure, but I’ll figure it out. I always do,” the girl chuckled. 

Your eyes widened as you realized that girl they were referring to was you. You quicken your strides to the head office, you quickly drop it off to make your way back to your office, avoiding the girls. You panted as you fell into your chair, you weren’t aware that you were holding your breath through all of that. 

“Are you okay?” Your mother noticed your thwarted expression. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, getting back to work. 

As you worked on your files, you lost track of time as your focus was solely on completing them. Your mind was distracted the second your secretary stood in front of your desk. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, your focus not leaving the papers in front of you. 

“Ms. y/l/n, someone is here for you.” She said. 

“Unless they have an appointment, I don’t have time to talk.” 

“M-Ms. y/l/n,” your secretary hesitated, “it’s Mr. Jung.”

You sighed, looking at the clock. You hadn’t realized it was already noon. Why is Jaehyun here? “Let him in.” 

Your gaze avoided the door to your office, you didn’t want him to think you were waiting for him. When Jaehyun walked in, he was dressed in a dark grey suit, his tie well done, his hair slicked back, he looked rather composed, unlike last night. 

“Hi, I hope you’re not too busy,” Jaehyun walked up to your desk, you could smell the cologne he always wore. It held a clean, wood, and rich scent like it was made solely for him. 

“Just a little bit, is everything okay?” You quietly asked. 

“Yeah,” he sat down in one of the seats in front of you, “I was wondering if you have time for lunch.” He enjoyed the moment last night as you two ate, so he wanted to have lunch with you today. 

Oh...Your eyes slightly widen, you didn’t know if you were excited or surprised. “I have time,” you nodded. 

“Great, I don’t know what you like so I just brought some kimbap that I made,” Jaehyun’s lips pressed together. 

“That’s okay, I like it.” You reached to grab one and popped it in your mouth.

Before you could grab another, your mother marched in, “Honey, I’m ba-OH! Mr. Jung, I wasn’t aware you were coming. I’ll leave you two be.” she quickly ran out. 

“No, mother it’s okay!” You begged, anticipating the awkward tension between you two, but she was quick to leave. “Sorry about that,” you commented, lowering back into your seat. 

“That’s okay,” Jaehyun chuckled, you saw those dimples and his whiskers again, it sent jitters to your spine. “What are you working on?” he nodded at the papers in front of you.

“Um-” you looked at your files, “-just approving the departments’ files. We’re coming out with a new Spring-Summer collection, so they need my approval for several things.” 

“That’s a lot. When do they need it?” 

“By the end of the week, I usually finish by Thursday but it looks like I’m going to have to bring some home so I can just finish on time,” your smile fell when you realized who was standing at the door. 

Jaehyun picked up on your expression and turned around in his seat, “Ch-Chaeyoung.” 

It felt as if time had slowed down, the three of you stood still in your places. None of you said a word and let the unsettling feeling resonate in each other’s bones. The silence blanketed the room and brought tension between everyone. 

You held your breath before speaking up, “What is it Chaeyoung?” you asked.

“Your secretary wasn’t at her desk and I needed to drop these off as soon as possible, they need your approval.” She walked towards your desk and gently set them on your desk. 

You thank her as she bows and leaves, Jaehyun’s gaze never leaving her figure. You felt your stomach lightly drop, was it the kimbap? Or were you flustered, hot, and maybe a little jealous? Nope. 

You cleared your throat, earning Jaehyun’s attention, “I’m full and I have a lot to do, so I’ll see you at home.” you said, this was a way of forcing him out of your office. 

“Y/n,” Jaehyun’s head fell to the side.

“I don’t want to know Jaehyun. Whatever you have with her is your issue,” you opened the doors to your office, “please leave.” you did your best at keeping your composure together. 

“Y/n, I ended things with her.” Jaehyun’s palms fell in front of you in reason. 

“Please, Jaehyun,” you gulped, “go.” 

[kazuharem]

“One Less Star” ↠ Lucien [ANGST]

Requested by @kazuko-stuff​

This story contains an image not yet released in EN server as well as possible triggering content. Read at your own risk.

Characters: Lucien, mentions of Victor and MC (Female)

Genre: Angst ツ, Song-fic

Word Count: 1,733

Warnings: spoiler warnings for Ch. 25 (some canon details), mentions of drug use (don’t do drugs, kids), mentions of a major character death I guess...

A/N: Uh.... I know I said Lucien angst was addictive.... but I didn’t realize it hurt this much. I also know I promised Lucien fluff, but this was too good to pass up. I’m so so sorry that I haven’t published anything in well over a month. Things have been so stressful for me and I’ve had the worst case of writer’s block. However! I am writing Helios and Lucien smut to make up for that! I also don’t know if the depictions are accurate cuz.... never done drugs.... so this was based off lots of research. Also inspired by this fanart.

Part II of this: story

Summary: The light of Lucien’s life, his little butterfly, was no longer part of his world.

Picture and story under the cut since it contains spoilers and possible triggering content.

[I wished upon a star last night and thought of you

But must have been a dream cause you're not here

I've never been one to believe in fairy tales or fantasy

But perhaps it's time for a change of mind.

I guess there's a first for everything]

The ticking of the clock was abnormally loud in the silence. Lucien sat in the darkness, breathing ragged as he tried his best to ease the dull roar coursing through his ears. A sharp gasp broke the air as he doubled over, hunching over as he pressed a hand to his chest where stabbing pains could be felt. He fumbled with a shaking hand to reach out to the bottle of pills sitting in front of him and missed, sending them scattering across the floor. “Ugh…” Lucien’s chin dropped to his chest as he panted. Without looking, he grabbed haphazardly what he could and slammed the pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. Not enough, Lucien thought as he leaned against his bookcase, closing his eyes. Nothing eased the sensation of the pressing pain that robbed him of breath. His pants came out, choked and stuttered.

[We fell in love, we had our fun

You always had enough dreams for both of us

I wonder what would come of us

If we could trade these ends for beginnings]

Memories ran across his closed eyes. Those of her. Black and white, like photo negatives that had no time to be developed. Unwanted. Forgotten.

Cheerful laughter rang in his ears. “Lucien, thank you so much for your help!” He could see her beam at him, her smile bright and sweet. “I couldn’t have done it without you!”

Another vision of her popped up unbidden before him, but Lucien welcomed it eagerly like a man starved. He drank in the sight of her greedily. “Okay, I will wait for you,” she spoke, eyes teary and voice trembling. “I will take care of myself...and disturb you whenever I want. You have to do the same! Take good care of yourself!”

He was suddenly bombarded with various versions of her. The her wearing his sweater curled up on the couch as she typed feverishly on her laptop. The her awashed in a blue tint as she reached up to press her lips against his even when he had warned her that he was dangerous. The her running out into the pouring rain to hug him when she had followed him to Copenhagen. The her gazing adoringly up at him, flashes of bright light dancing across her face from the sparkler that she held between them. The her dusted in flour as she dropped a dumpling into his bowl wishing him happiness and health for the new year. The her with a smile as pure and untainted and beautiful as the fresh snow as she wished that she could celebrate his birthday with him every year in the future.

The beautiful images morphed together into one of her bathed in a warm light. “I wish our love will last forever,” she whispered to him, eyes aglow with the dazzling love solely reserved for him and only him.

Lucien lurched forward, eyes flying open. He looked around wildly, but there was no sign of any comfort in his dark and desolate apartment.

He was sure that she had been there just a second ago. Hadn’t she just been whispering in his ear about taking good care of himself?

A dry sob broke out from his throat, grating and rough, when he realized that he was alone. Like he always had been.

Lucien grabbed more pills and swallowed. Not enough, not enough. The voices in his head became disembodied, haunting.

With some effort, he staggered to his feet using the bookshelf for support.

He needed more. He needed to see her, needed to hear her voice.

He panted desperately as he clung onto the wooden shelf, cold sweat pouring down his back. She couldn’t be gone, Lucien told himself as he tried to gain back some semblance of control over the swirling visions, she’s not gone. The reassurances he gave himself were instantly shattered the moment his eyes landed on the film calendar she had gifted him as a birthday present.

No.

Lucien began to tremble violently. The date served as an unwelcome reminder for exactly what had occurred a month ago.

No. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t…couldn’t be gone.

“No,” the word left his mouth in a cracked whimper. “Please…”

No one was there to hear his broken plea.

[I'm drinking from an empty cup

The hardest part of young love was growing up

It's not enough to fill me up

Cause now there's one less star in the city]

“You…did what…?” Lucien stared at the man before him, feeling like there was no longer strength left in his body at the words that left the man’s mouth. “She…she’s-” He was physically unable to say the next words.

He wanted to grab Victor’s collar, wanted to shake him. Wanted to ask why he did what he did. Why he couldn’t fulfill such a simple request. 

“Keep her safe...and please let her be happy.”

“I trusted you,” Lucien wanted to say. “I entrusted her safety to you. You were supposed to protect her.”

“You cared for her as well. You loved her too,” Lucien wanted to accuse, wanted something-someone to blame.

But upon looking at the gaunt man in front of him, eyes sunken with pain that reflected Lucien’s own, Lucien knew that Victor had been hurting just as much as he had. The usually impeccably dressed CEO looked haggard.

Lucien swallowed hard. “Our partnership ends then. There’s no reason for us to collaborate anymore,” he was surprised his voice was still steady. “I bid you farewell, Victor.”

He reached the door of Victor’s office when Victor spoke up.

“Lucien.” Lucien paused but did not turn back. “For what it’s worth,” There was a pause. “I am sorry.”

Lucien’s hands trembled and he curled them into tight fists. “I understand why you had to do so,” he said to the door. His voice sounded like it was on the verge of cracking. He reached for the door.

“There’s a chance,” Victor stopped him again before he could leave. “There might be a chance she…could still be…alive.”

Lucien closed his eyes. Would it be foolish to cling onto this useless hope? “I’ll take my leave-”

“I’ll bring her back,” Victor’s voice had its usual determination, “I’ll do everything in my power to bring her back.”

“Goodbye, Victor,” Lucien said quietly, dismissing the other man’s words. He left before Victor could say anything else.

Lucien passed through the halls of LFG in a numb daze. He wandered the streets, not knowing where his feet were taking him.

When he arrived in front of a familiar apartment, he blinked. Pulling the keys from his pocket shakily, he unlocked the apartment he had vacated. Part of him hoping that Victor’s words were just part of a cruel joke.

Nothing greeted him. No bright smile that rivaled that of the sun. No pattering of eager footsteps rushing to hug him. Nothing but dust motes dancing in the air.

“No,” Lucien’s chest felt constrictive. “No, no,” He gasped for breath, his legs giving out on him as he collapsed against the door. “Please…no,” the words came out in a broken sob.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” his whispers hitched as sharp stabbing pains robbed him of breath. “I’m sorry…” Lucien grabbed at his chest, fingers digging into the skin. “No…” Tears slid down his cheeks, hot and scalding. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” he choked out, “I’m so sorry…”

[I can't keep living without you

But I'll wait and someday, I'll join you in the stars

But for now I can't keep thinking about you

Cause I can't find my way

Cause now there's one less star in the city]

Lucien staggered, the memory of that day leaving him reeling. “No,” he gasped, shaking his head weakly. He refused to believe the pathetic scene he had just witnessed. “No….she’s not…I’m…no…”

He stumbled across the room to his coffee table and grabbed a syringe, almost dropping it as his shaking hand fumbled desperately. Lucien reached for the tiny glass bottle next to it and plunged the needle into the bottle. Please, an inner voice begged. Please let me see her again. He took a deep breath as he stabbed the needle into his arm. Releasing a hiss, Lucien pushed down slowly on the syringe. He relished in the spread of warmth as he cast away the syringe, breathing finally slowing down.

Lucien collapsed against the window, his shuddering pants easing into deep and languid breaths. I’ll see her again, he thought dazedly as his vision started to blur. I’ll see her again in my dreams.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the gleam of the dark window.

“Look at yourself, Ares,” his reflection seemed to taunt. “Look at how weak you’ve become.”

“Be…quiet,” Lucien spat, his voice nearing a growl.

“You were foolish to think you had a future with her. Foolish to believe that she would still choose to give you trust and love even after you betrayed her. Love? Happiness? Wake up, Ares, there is no love or happiness for you,” the face in the window sneered.

There was the sound of shattering glass and Lucien watched with numb fascination as a dark liquid seemingly blossomed from his clenched fist. There was silence. Blissful and soothing.

Suddenly, there was the sound of light footsteps. He raised his head slowly and his breath caught in his throat.

It was her.

She was here.

“Lucien,” she smiled, and Lucien felt his heart swell at the sheer beauty of it, blinding and brilliant. “Did you miss me?” She stepped delicately towards him and spread open her arms.

Lucien pulled her into his arms desperately, his movements eager and clumsy. “I…missed you so much,” he croaked as his arms enveloped her. “I missed you so much that I was going crazy,” he admitted as he buried his nose into her hair, inhaling her familiar scent.

“Well, I’m here now,” She whispered, and Lucien could feel every fiber of his entire being sing with relief.

“Yes, don’t leave me, my love. Stay here with me forever, my little butterfly. I love you.”

───── ⋆⋅ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ⋅⋆ ─────

A/N Part II: I am not okay right now. I hate myself. Goodbye

Part I: Here

Part III: Here

For more of my work: 📖

[justauthoring]

No Reason To (42/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

A/N: Part 42 !!! Brings back an interesting character, lol. ALSO! A day early cause I couldn’t wait until tomorrow :)

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 06x05 & 06x06

You notice it out of the corner of your eye.

And for some reason, the second it happens, the thought of it won’t leave your mind. 

All else seems to fade to the back of your mind. Everything else seems to just fade away as you stare out of the window, eyes focused in on a blue jeep. A jeep... just a plain old jeep that for some reason seems utterly and completely important to you in that moment. So much so, that you can’t tear your eyes away from it.

It must be... “Stiles...”

Scott hears you, and you don’t notice it but it pulls his attention on you. He watches the back of your head before his eyes drift off in the direction you’re staring at. He notices nothing off or particularly interesting about the parking lot at all, causing his brows to furrow in wonder and for him to reach forward, hand falling on your own as he gently coaxes your attention on him. “Y/N,” he whispers, so as not to bring attention onto the both of you. “Are you okay?”

You blink, slowly turning round to face your brother as he frowns down at you in concern. Meeting his confused expression, you glance back at the jeep one more time before turning to your brother. “I don’t know...” You mumble earnestly, mind a mess of confusion as you try to make sense of the feeling welling deep inside your chest. “It’s just...--”

“Is there something the two of you would like to share with the rest of the class?”

The sound of the teacher, clearly addressing you and Scott, pulls you out of your revere. Even if only for a moment. You blink, eyes widening in shock at the sternness of her voice, and for a moment, you sit there, gaped-mouthed, not really sure how to respond because for some reason, you desperately want to just get up and leave class and check out that jeep.

“No, no,” Scott answers for the both of you (thankfully). He eyes you warily as he does, clearly able to tell something’s wrong but not really sure how to help, before sending an apologetic smile the teacher’s way. “Sorry.”

The teacher eyes the both of you, slowly and warily, before she turns back to the chalkboard behind her, moving on with the lesson you’ve elected to ignore in favour of that jeep.

Which, speaking of, is currently about to be towed.

Your eyes widen, back straightening in alarm as you watch a man prepare to pull the jeep for towing, hooking onto his own truck. Instantly, you’re up on your feet, all but shoving your stuff in your bag in a haste. You’re scurrying catches the attention of almost everyone in the room, eyes snapping over to you as you rush around your desk and practically bee-line towards the door.

“I’m sorry,” you call out in a haste, not even looking at the teacher as you rush by. “I need to go. I’ll be right back.”

You don’t stop running until you’re out of the school and in the parking lot, rushing up to the tower. “Hey!” You bellow, voice slightly breathless and raspy as you desperately try to catch the man’s attention. “Hey!” He turns to look at you just as you reach the jeep, clearly confused by this teenager girl running up to him in such a haste. “You can’t tow this jeep.”

A bemused smile curls onto his lips. “Paper says I can,” he raises his clipboard, glancing at it briefly. “Reported as abandoned.”

You pause a moment, head spinning to try to find a reasonable and believable excuse as to why this jeep can’t be towed. Because... it just can’t. But all you really manage to come up with is the idea to simply place your hand on the front of jeep, as if making a stand, before tilting your head at the man. “And now it’s not.”

Letting out a chuckle, the man quirks a brow; “this is your vehicle?”

Challenging the man, you shrug; “does it matter?”

He scoffs, moving towards the drivers seat; “sound like a no--”

“It’s mine!”

Turning at the sound of your brother, hope fades into your eyes as you watch Scott lean over the car, slightly out of breath. “My jeep,” he clarifies, voice clearer this time as he pats the jeep lightly. “Thank you. I’ll move it once I...” he glance over at you, breath halting, “get the keys.” Then, he quickly adds. “From my locker. After you leave.”

“I’m sorry,” the man mumbles, “once it’s on the hook--”

“If you say you’re on the hook,” you mumble, lips pursing into one of disgust.

“Well,” he says simply, “I can’t now.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Scott calls out, desperate. “There’s gotta be something we can do. Sign something, call someone--”

Shoulders falling, you sigh; “pay someone?”

At that, the man pauses, a smile curling onto his lips. “Drop fee is a hundred-and-fifty. Cash.”

Reaching into your purse, you pull out of your wallet, pulling out every bit of cash you have. Scott, however, doesn’t take it as well, turning to you with wide eyes as he practically gags at the amount. “Hundred-and-fifty?” He breathes, “this thing isn’t even worth that much.”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug; “how much do you have?”

His eyes widen, watching you stifle through your cash. “How much do you have?”

Shaking your head at him, you huff; “just give me your money.”

Sighing, he pulls a single bill out of his back pocket, holding it before himself. “All I have is fifty dollars, and when I say all I have is fifty dollars; I mean--”

Ignoring his rambling, you take the money from his hand, combing it with your two-thirds of the amount and handing it to the man. He accepts it with a smile, one that causes you to roll your eyes in response, watching him walk past as Scott slumps next to you.

“If you need anything until your next pay,” you mumble, staring at the jeep with a frown. “Just let me know.”

Shoulders falling, Scott numbly nods.

You move to turn then, but Scott quickly catches your arm, calling for your attention. “You know I don’t actually have the keys to this thing, right?”

Pursing your lips, you shrug; “but... now we have a jeep.”

-

“You must feel it too.”

You turn, meeting Lydia’s eyes as she frowns at you.

“I feel.... something,” she mumbles, eyes stuck on the jeep just like you.

Taking a small step forward, you set your hand down on the front of the jeep, body tensing as a feeling of almost electricity runs through your entire body. It starts at your fingertips, running up your entire arm before drifting across your entire body. It’s this sense of ringing, something you can’t outright explain, but you know you’re not crazy because Lydia senses something too.

Just then, fast approaching footsteps echo. You don’t have to look to know who it is and your thoughts are only confirmed when Scott comes to a stop next to you, Malia on the other side of Lydia.

Meeting your brothers eyes, you nod; “it’s coming from here.”

Scott and Malia move around the car, moving to the drivers seat where something catches their eyes. You pull back, taking a small step forward as you watch Scott try to pull open the door, only to realize it’s locked.

“Did somebody just lock the keys inside?”

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head; “break it.” You mumble, voice small but hopeful and desperate as Scott glances over at you. All it takes is one good look at you and he listens, using a bit of his strength to break the lock and thus, opening the door.

Inside is a radio.

-

Pulling the glove-box open, you search through for anything important. Unfortunately, there’s nothing really of note or of importance. But you continue to look anyways, determined to find at least something. Even if small.

However, your attention is soon pulled on the radio as it’s comes to a quick and sudden stop. The radio silence fades to actual silence as you turn in the direction of it, the rest following you as well, brows furrowing in confusion as you glance down at it.

“Why’d it stop?”

Meeting Malia’s eyes briefly, you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter,” you dismiss, moving to the master switch and flicking it a few times repeatedly in the hopes that something will happen. Nothing does. “There has to be a reason,” you sigh, shoulders falling with a slump.

Scott shifts and you notice out of the corner of your eye as he straightens out, eyes twisting shut in confusion as he shakes his head. “What?” He mumbles, voice small, a faint whisper.

“You got a scent?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, “ours. Mine,” he points to himself, the words stumbling past his lips. “Yours. All of four of ours.”

“Mine?” Malia questions, brows furrowing in disbelief. “I’ve never been in this jeep before.”

“Neither have I.”

A glance over at Lydia tells you she’s wondering the same thing.

“Yes, we have,” you argue softly. “We just don’t remember it.”

“I thought we were done with that,” Malia mumbles.

“Uh, yeah, Y/N. Parrish checked the vin number,” Scott explains, shaking his head. “There’s no record of owner.”

Scoffing, you elect to remind them; “the jeep didn’t just drive itself here.”

“I agree with, Y/N,” Lydia nods, pulling your eyes on her as yours turn hopeful. “There’s something more to all of this.” As you meet her gaze, happy to have someone believing you, you smile, grateful.

Silence echoes, and it’s clear what Malia thinks. So, all eyes seem to fall on Scott as he hesitates.

“Whose side are you on?” Malia questions, leaning back into the car.

Scott’s eyes widen. “I’m on everyone’s side,” he appeases, moving back.

Malia turns to you then, gaze sharp. “He’s not real,” she explains, “trust me.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff, moving back to the glove-box in a fit of determination. Searching through what you had before, your eyes widen when you notice a piece of paper.

“I’ve lost a lot of people in my life,” Malia continues. “It’s a long list. And I don’t feel like adding to it.”

“You might not have to,” you mumble, eyeing the piece of paper with interest, eyes flickering across the words, processing them. Turning to Malia, the edge of your lips quirk upwards. “Not if we get him back.”

Slowly, Malia takes the slip of paper from your hands, eyeing it similarly as you, before passing it to the back for Scott and Lydia.

“It’s from ninety-six,” Scott reads out, “and... there’s no name.”

“But,” Lydia calls, leaning forward to point a specific spot on the paper. “There’s an address.”

“One-twenty-nine Wood-Bine Lane,” Malia reads aloud.

Pausing a moment, you turn to the rest; “I know that address.”

-

“I-I... I don’t know what to tell you,” Mrs. Stilinski stammers, turning to you with a shake of her head. “I haven’t seen that jeep in... almost eighteen years.”

Inhaling deeply, you pause a moment, your head tilting lightly in confusion. “But... it’s in your name,” you mumble, voice soft with desperation.

You don’t know if you can handle another dead-end.

“But it was stolen,” Claudia reminds.

“Then,” you continue, not ready to give up. “How did it end up at the high school?”

Claudia parts her lips to say something, but stammers for a response. Your attention is pulled on the Sheriff as he gestures his hands in a act of loss, shaking his head. “Beats the hell out of me,” he says simply, face scrunched up in confusion. “The thing was a junker back in the day. God only knows who’d want it now.”

Mrs. Stilinski nods. “Maybe someone dumped it there.”

You feel your eyes water, your body tensing as you try to hold yourself together. It felt like you were walking around in circles and every time it felt like you were going to get somewhere, you just ended up back at the beginning; no clues, no proof, nothing.

“Is there... um, any way to trace the history of the jeep after it was stolen?”

Stilinski’s face scrunches up, simply saying; “no.”

Swallowing thickly, feeling yourself choke up as your words become raspy, you plead; “maybe there’s fingerprints on it.”

“Y/N,” Stilinski calls gently, “is this about Stiles?”

“Honey,” Claudia sighs, handing you back the paper you’d found in Stiles’ jeep. “Don’t you think you’ve taken this far enough?” Taking the paper back from her, lips left parted, you meet her eyes as she continues. “I don’t really know what’s going on with you lately, but... maybe it’s a good time to talk to your mom.”

You hesitate, the words stuck in the back of your throat as you nod, feeling numb. “I’m sorry,” you gasp, “you’re right.”

“Hey,” Stilinski whispers, expression reading concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” The word leaves your lips in a rush, it clear you’re lying but not knowing what else to say, you leave it. As your vision blurs and you feel it suddenly considerably more difficult to hold back your tears, you shift uncomfortably in your seat, gesturing towards the hallway.  “I’m sorry. Can I... Is it okay--”

“Yeah,” Claudia nods, “of course. Take your time.”

You stand up with a rush, making your way down the hallway with the intent to go to the washroom. But you pause as you come across the wall, the wall where you’d seen that shadow, the wall where you’d felt something. The wall where you still felt something. And as you come to a slow stop, you turn, your eyes flickering across the wallpaper before landing on the part you’d tried to rip off. Stepping forward, your hands fall on the wall and you lean forward, that sense rushing through you as your eyes twist shut and the tears finally fall, unable to hold back any further.

A soft small sob escapes your lips as you gently tug on the rip in the wallpaper, fingering it for a moment before you turn, back pressed against the wall. Your eyes fall shut as you sniffle, inhale sharply, your legs suddenly feeling weak and shaky beneath you as you slowly slide down, until you’re completely sat. Head falling back, you press your hand against your lips to stifle the sound of your cries, shaking your head.

Everything was telling you to give up, that this Stiles didn’t exist. You felt like a fool, you felt crazy, now the last one out of your friends to even truly believe he’d ever existed. Time and time again they told you, including your own brother, to just give up. That you were chasing a trail with no end. 

But, you’re not ready to give up. You don’t want to give up. Every time you felt you should, the image of a boys face that you couldn’t outright properly make would appear in your mind. And you’d think of this person, this Stiles, and feel as if there’s a long list of memories you share with him. That this love you feel for him isn’t just made up. That somewhere, wherever he is, he’s counting on you not to give up.

To find him.

To save him.

Because you know, deep in your heart, Stiles exists and you’re in love with him.

-

“We already paid you. I gave you all of my money for that drop fee.”

Rushing out of your car, you quickly shut it, picking up the speed in your step to your brother.

“And I dropped it,” the same man from before explains, “alright? Now i’m picking it up again.”

You fall next to Scott slightly out of breath, body tense as you turn towards the man. “How much?” You echo, voice breathless, shaking your head. “I’ll write you a check.” Even if you don’t really have the money to do that; this was your one connection to Stiles. And you weren’t going to give it up.

“It’s not about how much,” the man stresses, “they want it out of here, okay? It’s not up to me.”

He takes a step forward, but Scott stands his ground, puffing his shoulders out, in an attempt to look threatening. It clearly doesn’t work as the man simply just lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. “Don’t make me move you, kid. Okay? I am hooking this thing up and I am towing it away.”

Your eyes widen, lowering to Scott’s hand as you watch him clench his fist, clearly struggling to restrain himself.

But, before anything can happen, your attention is pulled behind the man, onto Malia. She simply pulls the hook off of the cord, not only unhooking the jeep from the man’s truck but also breaking the truck. And, as the man turns to face her, she simply shrugs; “your trucks broken.”

-

Staring at the key, you find yourself, oddly enough, hesitating. Even if only for a moment.

You hold it delicately in your hand, before slowly flickering up to glance at your brother. He meets your eyes with a shrug, but still reassuring as he gestures with his chin towards the key. Having his reassurance gives you the courage to move, slowly sliding the key into the ignition. It slides in like a perfect fit, and it only takes you a second before you turn it, moving to turn the car on but it sputters.

You fall back against your seat for a second, meeting Scott’s gaze before shifting forward, turning the key again and pressing on the gas peddle repeatedly, trying to get it to work.

“Don’t flood it,” Scott warns, interrupting you as you turn the key back, turning to him in disbelief.

“Do you even know what that means?”

Pausing, Scott’s eyes narrow in confusion. “Not really.”

Swallowing thickly, you nod slowly, turning back towards the car. You inhale sharply as you turn the key once more, practically willing it to work. And your eyes widen, a smile of relief curling onto your lips as it doesn’t sputter this time and instead turns on, the lights flickering on as you instantly turns towards Scott, the same expression of disbelief on his eyes.

You let out a laugh, a bright smile curled onto your lips as you grip the steering wheel tightly, nodding to yourself.

Then, the happiness only lasts for so long before the two of you realize... what now?

Frowning, your shoulders fall, “I thought...”

Nodding, Scott sighs; “me too.”

Silence echoes. You glance around, looking, hoping for something to happen. And like the car turning on, something or someone seems to listen to you because the familiar sound of the radio buzzing on like before causes both you and Scott to jump in response, instantly turning towards the radio as it flickers on. 

Scott leans forward, moving a dial, but your hand falls on his own when you hear something. “Wait,” you call, squeezing his hand as he glances up to look at you in wonder. “Wait. Listen.”

The both of you fall silent, the next second the sound of someone calling out ‘hello’ echoes and then ‘can anyone hear me?’ follows shortly after. Your eyes widen, lips parting in astonishment as you meet Scott’s gaze.

Grabbing the walkie-talkie off the radio, you pull it up to your mouth, pausing just briefly before pressing the button on the back, lips parting to speak. “S-Stiles...?”

Scott shifts forward then, grabbing onto your arm as he speaks; “Stiles, are you there?”

“Scott? Y/N? Is that you?”

You feel your breath stop, every bit of you radiating with a burst of excitement and hope as your lips curl upwards into a bright and relieved smile. “Oh my God, Stiles...” You breathe, voice raspy and faint, but pitching in excitement. “We can hear you.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles mumbles from the other end, “you know me?”

“Stiles,” you breathe, voice cracking. “Stiles... is this you? Is this actually you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Stiles confirms. “Do you remember the last thing I said to you?”

Meeting Scott’s eyes through your own blurred vision, you nod, hesitating just a moment as you choke over your own words. “You said... You said, remember I love you. That... That you never stopped loving me.” As you finish speaking, your eyes fall shut, feeling as if you can picture the moment, grasp in your mind, but at the same time... you can’t.

There’s an echo of silence before Scott speaks up. “Are you okay?”

You nod, “where are you?”

“We’re coming to get you.”

“No, no, no, you can’t,” Stiles rushes, “you won’t be able to find me.”

Scott takes the walkie-talkie in his hands, covering your own as he shakes his head, stammering over his words. “S-Stiles... what-what are you talking about? Just tell us where you are. We’re...We’re--”

And even if he can’t see you, you nod.

“Look, just remember this. Just remember this, okay?” Stiles cuts in, “Canaann. You have to find Canaan.”

The radio cuts out then.

“Stiles? Stiles!”

Shoulders falling, your lips part, head shaking as your grip tightens on the walkie-talkie. Your eyes stare out before you, wanting, hoping, preying you’ll hear Stiles’ voice echo once more over the radio.

But, it never does.

He’s gone.

-

There’s screaming. And crying. 

Everywhere around you there’s shadows. The shadows you’ve been seeing for days now. 

You can’t really see where you are. Everything around you is blurred, a mess of colours and objects, besides the specific movement of shadows around you. You can hear their voices, hearing their pleading and crying and screaming and everything, but you can’t see their faces. Can’t make out whose saying what. Can’t make out any distinguishing details.

Black blurs flicker past you, disappearing from your eye shot in a blink. Your head spins every which way, feeling helpless and vulnerable; trying to understand. But you feel routed to your spot. Stuck. The chaos that ensues around you is one you don’t understand or know how to help. You don’t know where you are. You don’t know how you got here.

You’re scared. Beyond so.

And then, a figure runs in front of you, stopping directly in front of you. You can’t make out their eyes, but you swear the person is looking directly at you. Staring directly into your eyes. And everything just stills for a moment. It’s eerily silent as the chaos from around you fades to the back of your mind and you stare at this shadowed figure in front of you.

Then, with a blink of the eye, the figure shifts and a smoke of green erupts directly in front of you. You flinch back in response, instinctively moving to protect yourself as the cloud dissipates. And when it’s gone and you lower your arms that acted as a shield to protect yourself, the figure’s gone.

Without a trace.

It’s then you understand. The Ghost Riders.

They’re here.

But there’s something more to it. Something feels... worse. They’re not just being taken, disappearing, being forgotten... it feels, as you stand there, as if they’re being ripped from existence itself. That the idea of being forgotten isn’t all that’s happening.

Their entire existence is being erased. Not just forgotten, but erased. It’s as if their soul is being taken away.

It feels worse then death.

It’s so much worse then death.

As you look around, lips left parted, hands hanging uselessly next to you, you watch as every blurred figure around you slowly disappears. In a similar fashion of a green cloud of smoke. It keeps happening, repeatedly, over and over again. And you want to move, want to help, but you find yourself stuck, your feet routed to their spot and leaving you helpless to just watch, unable to do anything.

You’re forced to watch peoples souls being ripped from them.

You’re forced to do nothing.

Until everyone’s gone.

A gasp leaves your lips, lost and confused as you glance around. Then, as your eyes flicker around the blurred image of wherever you are, you notice one last blurred figure. One single blurred figure. A shadow. It’s stood directly in front of you, a few feet away. You want to walk towards it, but can’t. Your fingers itch by your side, and for the first time you’re able to move something other then your own head.

Your arm raises, slowly and carefully, and your fingers stretch in an attempt to reach out for the figure.

But then, a scream echoes. A loud, piercing, terrifying scream. One you swear you’ve heard before.

You instantly curl into yourself, hands pressing against your ears to try and block out the noise as you let out a cry. It’s like you have no control over yourself anymore as your eyes twist shut and your body tenses and the screaming that echoes never stops. It carries on and on and on, piercing your ears, causing your own lips to part in fright, clenching your eyes shut.

You will yourself to wake up; hoping, praying that this is a dream. That this isn’t real.

You don’t want this to be real.

It can’t be.

You don’t want to be stuck here. In a cold and barren blurred place that doesn’t make any sense. With no one left, with everyone gone. With their entire being just... erased.

Help me.

Someone. Please...

help me!

You wake with a start. A gasping breath leaves your lips as you sit up, a scream tearing past your lips. You can’t make sense of the fact that you’re safe, in your room, still in a daze from what you’d just witnessed that had felt so unbelievably real. That you wanted to be a dream, and that maybe was, but still, somehow, had been real.

A sob wretches past your lips. Your body seems to move of it’s own accord, ripping the blankets off of you and moving to stand up from your bed. You’re not sure where you aim to go, but your feet seem to be carrying you and you’re too distressed, confused and scared to really care. Because you can’t help the cries and sobs that leave your lips as you move.

Then, your door bursts open. It causes you to blink, pulling you from your own lost revere as you meet your brother’s eyes. His own are wide with panic and he looks terrified as his eyes quickly search for you. Scott doesn’t waste anytime rushing over to you, taking you in his arms as your legs give out from beneath you and you fall against Scott with a sob. His hand falls on the back of your head as he pulls you close, grip tight and reassuring as he tries to calm you.

“Y/N,” he calls, voice faint, raspy from sleep, “Y/N, hey. It’s me. It’s Scott. You’re okay. You’re okay. I’m here.”

You clutch onto the back of his shirt, bunching the material in your fingers as you feel your racing heart finally slow. The panic in you also calms as you realize you’re in your room; safe, like Scott had said. 

Still clutching onto Scott tightly, you let your eyes slowly flicker open, gaze instantly falling on Isaac whose stood at the door. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even really react, even as you clearly meet his eyes. Isaac doesn’t move to comfort you like you feel he would, and instead he simply stands at the doorway, watching.

“You’re okay,” Scott continues to soothe, voice soft. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Burrying your head into the crook of Scott’s shoulder, you inhale sharply. “They took everyone... they took...--”

“Who did, Y/N?” Scott asks gently, pulling back to meet your watery gaze. “Who?”

Shaking your head, your lips tremble as you meet your brother’s gaze through your own blurred and watery one. 

“They took everyone, just like they’re going to take all of us.”

-

“You saw a carousel?”

“And a big sign that said Canaan and people disappearing in a cloud of smoke.”

It’s that that catches your attention. You pause, thinking of your dream.

“Hold on,” you call gently, turning to both Lydia and Malia, setting your hand on the former’s arm. “Did you say ‘disappear in a cloud of smoke’? Like the Ghost Riders?”

Blinking, Lydia’s brows furrow. “Yeah.” She nods, “that’s what I saw... Why?”

“Last night, I... I had this dream,” you start, lips curving downwards as you recollect the dream. Avoiding either of their gazes, you fiddle with your fingers. “I couldn’t make out anything. I didn’t see the place like you did, Lydia. But I did see these figures, these indistinguishable figures disappear in a cloud of smoke.” Then, slowly raising your gaze to Lydia’s own, you frown. “I think we had the same dream. Of the same place.”

That scream... was it Lydia’s?

Her lips part, trying to look for a explanation. But it’s clear the both of you have no idea why you’ve had similar dreams. You understood why she had hers; she was a Banshee and she’s had dreams and premonitions like this one multiple times before.

You just didn’t know why you had one.

Or why the two of your dreams seem to be connected.

“Do either of you ever have nice dreams?”

Your shoulders slump, leaning back in her seat as Lydia rolls her eyes. “We need to go to Canaan.”

Pushing her computer aside, Malia sighs. “It would be helpful if we knew anything about the place,” she explains, to which you nod. “I keep calling the number for City Hall and no one answers. The only map I can find it on is thirty years old.” Grabbing the map, she unfolds it, pointing out the circled spot of ‘Canaan’. “So far the only thing I know about Canaan, is where it is.”

Pushing yourself up to your feet, you shrug, grabbing the map. “That’s all we need to know.”

-

“Scott?” 

Shaking his leg gently, you coax him awake softly.

Your eyes fall on him, like Lydia and Malia, as his eyes slowly flicker open, his head jerking gently in response. He first finds your gaze, lowering to his feet which you’d allowed to rest on your lip. Sending you a soft smile, he sits up, before turning to the other two.

“Where are we?”

“According to the GPS,” Malia sighs, “this is it.”

Opening the car door, you slowly step out, appreciating the opportunity to stretch your legs, as your eyes flicker around. Some things seem familiar, even if it does properly make sense, and you figure that has to do with your dream.

“This is it,” Lydia sighs, “Canaan’s a ghost town.”

-

“I don’t hear a single heartbeat.”

“I’m not catching any scents.”

Your eyes drift across the abandoned house to your left, eyeing the broken window and the door left open. The vines that have started to grow up along the side of the house with no one to take care of it. Weeds cover the front lawn, grass up to your calves. There’s abandoned cars, streetlamps crashed into them. It’s cold, barren, and lonely.

Just like your dream.

Swallowing thickly, you turn to the others; “I wonder why Stiles would send us here.”

Just as you finish speaking, a streetlamp to your right flickers on. It’s just brief, turning on and then off again in seconds but it’s enough to catch all of yours attention. You meet your brothers eyes, unsure and a little tense of what exactly you were supposed to do here.

Then, Lydia slows, her head tilted up with her attention caught on something. You follow her line of vision, noticing the torn banner strung across two streetlamps, and you can’t really make out what it says but you have a feeling it’s what Lydia saw in her dream; Canaan Day!

“This is the place I saw in the mirror.”

You inhale sharply, glancing around before meeting her gaze. noticing out of the corner of your eye, Malia and Scott walk off to explore more. “This place feels familiar,” you mumble, biting your lip. “I just didn’t see it so clearly like you had.”

Setting her hand over your own, Lydia sends a soft smile your way. “It’s okay, Y/N.” She reassures, nodding at you.

You only sigh, shaking your head. “I just wish I understood my powers more,” you explain numbly, a deep frown etched onto your lips. “Wish I understood what it’s trying to tell me.”

“Y/N--”

Lydia’s interrupted by a loud screech. It instantly catches both of your attention, head snapping round in the direction of the noise, eyes zoning in on the carousal. With just a brief glance Lydia’s way, the two of you start making your way over, Malia and Scott doing the same from where they’re stood. Your lips part, hand coming up to cover your mouth in distraught when you notice the blood covering the carousal seats.

Scott moves to step onto it, but just as he does, it somehow turns on; effectively scaring Scott half to death.

You watch it go round and round, the music an uncomfortable screeching sound.

-

The sound of door slamming shut pulls you out of your revere.

You jump, your body spinning round in the direction of the noise. It leads to a house, and you see just the faintest glimpse of a body rushing through the doorway. Your brows furrow in concern, wondering if that was one of the others and what was wrong. Picking up the speed in your step, you don’t hesitate to pull the door open, stepping into the creaky house with a considerable less amount of confidence then you had had before.

There’s something that feels off about this place. More so then the rest of the entire town. You feel your chest tighten and your heart start to race without knowing the real reason why.

With small, hesitant steps, you make your way through the entry room, leading into the kitchen and living room, a hallway to your left. “Hello?” You call out, with the hopes of a response. At first, all you hear is silence, nothing, but then, standing completely still on your end, the floor beneath you creaks, alerting the presence of someone else.

“Hello? Lydia? Malia...?” You move towards the living room, brows furrowed. “Scott?”

“Y/N!” A voice rasps, the voice eerily close. You halt in your step, staring at the wall that now is the only thing separating you, at least by sight, of whoever is on the other side of that room. “Y/N, help me!”

“Scott?”

Rushing forward at the recognition of your brothers voice, your eyes widen, lips parting, when you see him in what you assume to be the living room floor on his back. He’s clutching his stomach, blooding pooling around him and coating both of his hands, up his sleeves. The blood is everywhere, an alarming amount, and your mouth gapes open trying to figure out what to do or say, your eyes watering in distress, but all you can do is stand there frozen.

“Y/N...” Scott cries, one of his hands reaching towards you. “Please... help!”

“You were too late, Y/N.”

You know that voice.

“You’re always too late.”

“Theo...” Your heart plummets, shoulders tensing, eyes widening in alarm at the sight of him. How... How was he--

“Y/N!”

Blinking, you turn around, a gasp leaving your lips at the sudden feeling of two hands on your shoulders. Their grip is tight and they light shake you, trying to coax your attention on them. Confusion baffles you when you find Scott stood directly in front of you, Malia and Lydia stood by the door. Your eyes turn towards where Scott had been before, now gone with no trace of blood left. And glancing behind you, Theo is gone as well.

“You’re okay,” Scott assures softly, squeezing your shoulders. “It’s okay.”

“But you... I saw you...” Your hand shakily raises, pointing to where his body had been, Scott briefly glancing at before focusing back on you. “You’d been shot and he... he tried--”

“It wasn’t real.” Scott cuts in through your rambling, cupping your cheeks momentarily to pull your eyes completely on him. “It wasn’t real.”

Blinking, your eyes flicker to Lydia and Malia, before frowning over at Scott. “It felt real.”

“The energy here,” Lydia speaks up, “it’s causing hallucinations. We can’t stay here.” She states it as a matter of fact, turning round to exit the house without a second of hesitation. You glance at Scott one last time, nodding at him as you move to follow her and Malia out of the house.

But, just as you leave, you glance back to the same spot again, as if to make sure.

“We can’t leave,” Scott argues, close behind Lydia. “Not until we figure out why Stiles sent us here.”

“Who are we going to ask? There’s no one here!”

“We can ask him,” Malia cuts in, pointing in front of her.

Glancing in that direction, your brows furrow at the sight of a little boy. Just... standing in front of a house, staring at it.

“Hey!” Scott calls, effectively scaring the child. His head snaps round in the direction of your four, before turning and running, not wasting another second.

Pacing on your feet, you look at the others; “what do we do?”

“Go after him!”

-

“You, um...” Hesitating, you glance around at the rest. “You all saw that too, right?”

“Yeah,” Malia nods, “I definitely saw that.”

“Good,” you mumble to yourself, taking the first step towards the house you’d seen movement in. “Wasn’t sure if it was another hallucination.”

The four of slowly make your way to front door; it, unsurprisingly, not locked when Scott moves to open it. He simply pushes the door open, stepping in, as you’re the last one to step in, following in after Lydia as she gently knocks. “Hello?” She calls, “anybody here?”

You take note of the oddly well kept together house. Especially compared to every other house you’d seen on the street. There’s hardly any even dust at the very least, alluding that someone definitely still lived here. How? You had no idea.

“Visitors!”

Glancing back, your eyes narrow at the sight of a woman. There’s a large smile on her face as she quickly makes her way over to the four of you, hands out beside her in excitement gestures. “I can’t believe we have visitors!” She steps into the living room, where the rest of you are stood, the brightest smile you’re sure you’ve ever seen on anyone plastered on her lips. “Caleb will be so happy! It’s been such a long time since he’s had anyone to play with.”

None of you say anything.

“Oh! You must be thirsty,” the woman breathes, “come on in! And have a seat while I go get you something to drink.”

You watch her with a frown as she runs back the way she came. Was she that... figure? The one left?

“Seriously,” Malia mumbles low as you all step forward. “What is with her?”

“She’s the one I saw in the mirror,” Lydia whispers.

-

“This was my mother’s lemonade recipe. At least, as much as I can remember.”

You reach forward, taking a glance with a polite, but somewhat forced smile on your lips up at the lady. However, you can’t help but notice oldness of the lemonade. If the frothiness, dulled colour of yellow is anything to go by. With a thick swallow, you set the lemonade back down on the table, frowning when you notice Malia drinking it all.

“We always served this when we had friends to visit.”

“We didn’t come to visit,” Malia explains, setting down her lemonade, clearly finished with it. “We’re looking for someone.”

“A friend of ours,” Scott adds, shifting in his seat. “Maybe you’ve seen him. His name is Stiles.”

The woman pauses before speaking. “It’s been a while since anyone’s been through Canaan.”

Licking your lips, you lean forward; “how long?”

She turns to you, as if pausing in thought. But never actually responds.

However, Malia does as she pulls out a piece of paper from her pocket, unfolding it to read it. “Since April eighth, ninety-eighty-seven.” Dropping the piece of paper in front of the lady, Malia glances up at her.

Your shoulders tense when you notice the terse expression on the woman’s face. “Why would you disturb those things? They don’t belong to you.”

“We need to know what happened.”

“There was a picnic,” she begun, “a community party.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Malia frowns; “seems like everyone left in a big hurry.”

“People had been leaving Canaan for a long time,” the woman says simply. “That’s the day the last of them left.”

“All at once?” Scott asks, baffled. “They all just disappeared?”

“I didn’t say they disappeared.” The woman says sharply, voice raising, as she bangs the table, “I said they left!”

Inhaling sharply, you shuffle back in your seat.

“Did they leave in a cloud of green smoke?”

The woman stands, abruptly and sharply, slamming her hands on the table hard. “They just left!” She screams, her voice hurting your own ears as well, but you can tell, somehow, it has more of an effect on Scott and Malia if they’re shocked and dazed expressions are anything to go by.

“We didn’t mean to upset you,” Lydia cuts in gently, slipping out of her seat. “We’ll go now.”

You listen without haste, moving to help your brother stand up as you notice him a little wobbly on his own feet. Malia’s at the front, trying to keep her balance as you all hastily make your way to the front door. But, just as you move to leave, it slams shut, causing you to jump back in response. You turn to Scott, frightened and with wide eyes.

“No one is leaving,” the woman gasps, “no one is leaving Canaan ever again.”

-

You stand next to Malia, keeping a close eye on the woman who remains still at her spot in the pathway between the dining room and living room. She stands there, eerily, just watching as Scott tries to use his strength to force open the door, slamming against it repeatedly with no success.

“Scott, open the door,” Malia mumbles, “you’re a werewolf.”

“I’m trying!”

Stepping forward, clearly panicked, Malia moves to the windows, pulling the curtains past, and slamming her fist into the pane. It doesn’t crack it, even as she tries again and again, the window doesn’t even crack in the slightest.

You feel your heart start to race, panicking.

Turning back to the four of you, Malia shakes her head; “what the hell is wrong with this place?”

“Y/N,” Scott calls, “try to use your powers.”

Blinking over at him, you curse yourself when you realize you’d just been standing there, afraid. Nodding over at your brother and Malia, you slip past them, glancing briefly over at the woman, before focusing your attention on the door, specifically the knob. Your hand stretches out before you, and you feel your powers surge, even if only a little. But the door doesn’t budge. Neither does the lock.

Your powers don’t work.

You try again, lips pursing in frustration, but to no avail.

Glancing at the other three, you shake your head.

“Lenore?” Lydia questions softly, “can you unlock the door please?”

“Now that you’re here, you need to stay.” Her eyes turn droopy and weird, blinking slowly as your back straightens in alarm, watching her carefully with a deep-set frown. “Caleb likes you.”

Lydia rocks on her feet before stepping forward, towards the woman. “And we like him.” she assures, moving past to the other side of Lenore. She follows her, turning her back on the rest of you. “But we need to save our town. People are disappearing-- leaving. I mean, leaving. You can really help us.”

“No one can help you,” Lenore argues. “If they want to leave, they’re going to leave. They’ll go. And they’ll go. And there won’t be anything you can do about it.”

Your eyes turn to Scott as he slowly turns his head, something clearly catching his attention. You follow his line of sight, eyes narrowing when you take note of the boy, who you assume to be Caleb, standing by a hallway. He just stands there for a moment, staring, before speaking; “come with me,” he orders, voice contorted.

He turns down the hallway, walking off.

Glancing back over at Lydia, she nods; “go.”

-

As you make your way into the garage, your lips twist in disgust as you step into water, splashing around your feet. Malia and Scott hesitate when they notice your predicament, slowly stepping down as opposed to you.

Your eyes seem stuck on the boy, not really sure what to do, as Malia falls next to you, doing the same. Scott, however, notices the window lined on the garage, quickly making his way over to it with the intent to try and pry it out; create an exit for you guys to leave through. But of course, it’s locked.

“Caleb,” you call gently, “can you help us find a way out of here?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply turns, making his way over to the old television that’s currently playing static. Your brows furrow when you watch him pick up a VHS off of the ground, sliding it into the player, before sitting back to watch whatever’s on it. A squint of the eye and small step forward, shows you that the VHS tape is a old home video of him.

Except he looks the exact same age now, in front of you. And the video tape is dated to nineteen-eight-five.

“You have to say because mommy says so.”

“We can’t stay,” Scott whispers, “we have to go home.”

The boys voice contorts again, deepening and turning choppy; “this is your home.”

And, to no surprise, the door you’d came through slams shut.

Turning back to the home video, you meet Malia’s eye, noticing the same thing. “Scott,” you call, voice a low whisper. “Come here a second.”

He listens without fault, rushing over to the two of you.

Malia explains for you. “Look,” she mumbles, trying to be discreet. “At the date.”

Scott’s eyes widen.

“Caleb,” you call, voice soft. “Do you know what year you were born?”

At your question, the boy stands, slowly turning to face you. However, this time as he turns to the three of you, he’s covered in water, soaking wet.

“Nineteen-seventy-six.”

“And when did you die?”

-

“Am I having another hallucination?”

Glancing round at the room, eyes widening at the water pouring in, effectively flooding this place more then it already had been, you swallow thickly, nervous.

“If you are,” Scott speaks up, “i’m having the exact same one.”

“Then,” you mumble slowly, glancing around. “I must be too.”

Your eyes narrow in confusion, the familiar sound of Lydia’s banshee scream echoing.

Shuffling back, Scott turns to the two of you, panicked; “we got to get out of here.”

“I know neither of you will be an eight-year-olds ass, but I will.”

Truthfully, you don’t really try to stop Malia as she races forward. You wanted out just as much as her, and the options were limited on ways to try and get out. But maybe you should of given that the minute she moves to attack, she suddenly halts to a stop, a choked cry leaving her lips as she claws at her throat, obviously trying to breathe.

She falls down to her knees as you shuffle on your feet, unsure how to help. Your eyes narrow as the boy, Caleb, simply just smiles down at her, “you don’t look so good,” he mumbles, voice threatening.

Just then, water pours from Malia’s lips, as if she’d drowned.

Just like the boy drowned.

“Maybe you should sit down.”

-

“You have to breathe!”

Crouched next to Malia, you cup under her chin, trying to help her breathe but nothing seems to be working. The panicked look in her eyes causes you to panic, and nothing you seem to do or try seems to help her as she continues to gasp and claw at her neck. Her face turns pale and puffed, clearly do to the fact that she’s running out of air.

Meeting Scott’s eyes, you nod, coaxing him to try the door again.

“Lydia!” He bellows, voice raspy with distress.

Your eyes snap to him as he collapses to the ground, making it up only one step. You call out for him, concerned and confused, but then you see the water that pours from his lips and you realize the exact same thing that is happening to Malia is happening to Scott.

“What... What are you doing to them?” You cry, wide eyes falling on the boy, pleading expression.

“You’re drowning. Just like me.”

Just then, you find your own throat closing in on itself. You rasp, crying out for breath as your hands fall to the floor, trying to hold yourself up as water spills past your lips like the other two. You claw at your neck, scratching at it, trying to coax your neck to relax, to let you breathe in air. But it doesn’t work. Nothing works.

“Now we can be friends forever.”

“Scott,” you cry, trying to reach out for him. He turns to you, but is frozen stuck, wide eyes focused on each other as you both gasp and gasp for breath only to choke more and more.

Your eyes feel as if they’ll bulge out, your entire body stiffening.

And you can’t help but think, thinking this is the end, that you didn’t want to die without saving Stiles.

It’s as you finish that thought that you can suddenly breathe. It comes in through a gasping breath, desperate for air, your eyes widening in relief as your heart calms, even if only a little, and you feel yourself able to move, able to breathe. 

A hand falls on your back, meeting Scott’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

You nod, turning to help Malia as she glances at both of you, making sure you’re both okay.

Shaking your head at them, you gasp; “what...--”

“Mommy says you can go now.”

And just like that, the door opens.

Scott takes your hand in his, helping you up to your feet, as you help pull Malia up. Once all three of you are steadily on your feet, you all rush through the door, only managing a quick glance at Lenore before racing out the front door. You find Lydia on the front lawn, nodding to make sure you all are okay.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah,” Malia nods, “yeah, absolutely.”

However, Lydia slows, causing you and then the rest to do the same. You glance back at the house, lips curved into a deep frown at the sight of Lenore and her son, Caleb, stopping just at the porch.

“You know you could still come with us,” Lydia offers gently.

“I couldn’t leave Caleb.”

“Lenore, you know he’s not real.”

She glances down at her son, somber, before shaking her head. “I couldn’t leave Caleb.”

“Lydia,” you call gently, voice a soft whisper. “Let’s go.”

She meets your eyes, hesitating only a moment, before nodding, moving to walk with you.

-

“Do you think Stiles sent us here to warn us?”

Frowning at Scott’s words, you shake your head. “Maybe Beacon Hills is going to be the next ghost town.”

“If we don’t stop it?” Malia asks from the driver’s seat, glancing at you and Scott in the backseat through the rear-view mirror. “Yes. We need to get them to leave now.”

“We can’t,” Lydia cuts in, shaking her head. “Not yet.”

“Why can’t we get rid of them?”

“Because,” Lydia mumbles, “I saw what happens to the people they’ve taken when they leave.”

“Do they all die?”

“No. It’s something worst then death... I felt it in Lenore’s memory. It’s like...--”

“Their souls are hallowed out,” you finish for Lydia, breathless. All eyes fall on you as you meet Lydia’s, frowning. “It makes sense now. I felt it in my dream. They became something else. I think they became Ghost Riders. And then...--”

“They were gone,” Lydia nods.

-

What... What is he doing here?

Stood behind Scott, you halt, body frozen. Your lips part and your eyes widen in panic, feeling that familiar feeling flood your entire body at the sight of him.

“Somehow I don’t think we’re going to hug this out.”

Inhaling sharply, Scott paces on his feet, shuffling. “I hope you realize,” he breathes, gasping. “It’s taking all of my strength not to tear you apart right now.”

Your breath hitches when Theo’s eyes fall on your own, tilting his head; “Y/N--”

He’s interrupted by the sound of growling. Eyes flickering past him, you frown when Malia steps in, clearly angry as you can practically feel it radiating off of her in waves from where you’re stood. However, not a single part of you blames her for being so angry.

If anything, you support her anger, knowing there’s no bounds when she’s pissed.

“Malia,” Theo calls hesitantly, “you aren’t still upset about that whole shooting thing, are you?”

The answers pretty clear by the fangs and the glowing eyes.

-

Part 43?

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[redeadepression]

Heart to Heart | John Marston x Abigail Roberts | SFW

Characters: John Marston, Abigail Roberts Marston

Warnings:  It’s ‘mentions of’ everything because I don’t feel it’s fair to send you all in blind but also, there’s no sex in this story. |  Mentions of BDSM relationship, Mentions of Dom/Sub dynamic, Mentions of dubious consent, Mentions of Mommy Kink (dubious as to whether or not there is one 😂), Mentions of Humiliation Kink, Verbal fighting, Heart to Hearts, safe-words

Word Count: 3281

Summery: An argument leads to John accidentally exposing one of his kinks. Abigail is delighted by this turn of events while John is terrified at the thought of what she could do with this knowledge. 

~ Well, well, well if it isn’t me back on my bullshit. Enjoy this mess of feels that is set in the same universe as my other kink related John/Abigail works such as Apologies and Caught. ;)

Again, edited by me at midnight. So please ignore the typos. 

~~~

John stared at the canvas wall of his tent; eyes unblinking as he wondered what the plan was going to be for the day ahead.

Dutch had been increasingly petulant lately and John wasn’t sure exactly what he’d done to earn the man’s distain.

Or if he could fix it

If he even wanted to fix it.

He sighed heavily, bring a hand up to rub at his tired eyes. Desperately wishing he could sleep.

He had been awake for hours. Just staring. Thinking. He was starting to drive himself insane.

He’d tried to remember the last time he’d slept well. Frowning at the cloth in front of him as he came to the realisation that it had been months.

Footsteps behind him caught his attention and he finally ripped his gaze away from the wall, turning to see Abigail standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

He turned back to his previous position. He didn’t really have anything to say to her lately.

She had been increasingly impatient with him and his lack of motivation and he himself was cranky and irritable from lack of sleep.

It seemed every conversation they had lately ended in fighting or fucking. He couldn’t really complain about the second part but if he was being truly honest, he was tired of that too.

Abigail had always been the dominant one in their relationship but lately he was finding her domineering personality intolerable even inside the bedroom.

She was pissed at him whether she knew it or not and while he didn’t usually mind being her plaything, lately he was suffering at her hand. Unable to complain because ultimately their encounters always ended in his orgasm regardless of his deeper feelings.

“Will you get up?” Abigail scolded, interrupting his thoughts. He didn’t reply, staring blankly ahead of him as he heard her draw closer. “John?” She asked, touching his arm lightly and exhaling softly as she caught sight of his face. “You look like crap.” She commented bluntly, making him scowl.

He turned to face her as she sat down on the cot next to him. Knowing her comment was meant in jest but also made out of genuine concern.

Or at least he hoped that was it.

“It’s still early.” He said eventually, eyes locking on to hers as he blinked wearily.

“It’s nearly Nine.” Abigail corrected, her tone implying that he was very lazy.

He stared at her sadly, admiring the way the sunlight played on her sharp cheekbones and made her hair shine.

She was beautiful.

Mean.

But beautiful.

John placed a hand on her thigh, thinking momentarily before opening his arms and gesturing for her to lie in them. She furrowed her brows, looking annoyed before pushing his arms away.

“I ain’t in the mood.” She said briskly, adjusting the collar of her shirt before letting her hands fall to her lap.

“I just want you to lie with me.” John said frankly. Frustrated by her assumption and her rejection.

“Why?” Abigail asked, sounding irritated.

“Ugh.” John grunted, rolling his eyes. “Forget it.” He muttered, rolling away from her once more.

Abigail felt a tinge of regret at the way she had spoken. He had been annoying the hell out of her lately but he was a good person and he always tried his best for her.

She huffed a small sigh, placing her hand on his arm and rolling him back towards her.

“I mean why…” She struggled with the words. Not usually one to be comforting. “Why would I lie with you when you’re about to get up?” She asked, smiling as kindly as she could. He saw right though it. Sad eyes looking away from hers as he rolled away once more.

“Because I can’t sleep.” He answered honestly, surprising himself. “I always sleep better when you’re around.” He mumbled softly, feeling embarrassed by his admission.

“Oh.” Abigail said quietly, not expecting such an honest and open answer. John wasn’t usually this free with his feelings. Perhaps the lack of sleep was finally starting to bring him undone. “Well, I guess I could lie in for a minute.” She said as he turned to look at her once more.

“Forget it.” He grumbled, moving the covers off himself and pushing passed her to stand. Abigail watched him regrettably, standing herself and saying something about having breakfast together while John pulled his boots on.

“Mhmm.” He hummed tersely, pressing his heel into the dirt so it was snug with the sole of his boot.

“Why are you in such a crappy mood?” Abigail asked, her feathers ruffled by his dismissal.

“Could ask the same of you.” John countered with a sarcastic smile as he rummaged through his things looking for his belt.

“Well maybe sometimes your crappy mood rubs off on others and puts me in crappy mood.” Abigail snapped, trying her hardest to stay calm and prevent another fight. “Did you ever think of that?” She asked bluntly as John returned to her side, fastening his belt.

“Well maybe sometimes…” John began in a mocking tone. “You nag me too much and don’t give me a minute of peace.” He said, only a few octaves off shouting.

“Well maybe…” Abigail growled. “You shouldn’t be such a lazy bastard and I wouldn’t need to nag you as much!” She snapped.

“Well!” John began, seething. “Maybe sometimes…” He paused, huffing out a breath as he looked her in the eye. “I just feel like you don’t even love me.” He finished softly, clenching his fists as he slumped down hard onto the cot behind them.

Abigail swallowed her retort. Surprised for the second time that day by his candour.

She rolled her eyes, knowing he couldn’t see her from his position. She hated when he pulled this crap.

She turned to look at him pointedly, pursing her lips and sighing heavily through her nose.

“I love you.” She said tersely, slinking down so she was resting on the cot next to him.

It was John’s turn to roll his eyes. Tilting his head and giving her a look of contempt.

“You have to say that when I complain about you not saying it.” He mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at her.

Abigail threw her arms up in exasperation.

“Well, what the hell do you want from me?” She asked in frustration. “You want me to not to say it?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“I want you to mean it.” John mumbled, not taking his eyes off her. “And you could at least try to sound like you care.” He added.

Abigail exhaled sharply, sucking on her teeth with her tongue and then inching closer to him. She placed a soft palm on his cheek and nodded in his direction.

“I love you John.” She repeated firmly, as naturally as she could but her tone was dripping with condescension.

John glowered at her, not breaking his eye contact as he pushed the hand away from his face and let his arms fall by his side.

“Whatever.” He murmured, finally looking away. Feeling stupid for whining in the first place. He was a man. He shouldn’t be grovelling for affection like a lost puppy.

He was just tired.

Abigail snickered softly. Feeling bad that she had been so cruel. He was good to her for the most part and she loved him dearly. But sometimes he annoyed her so much that she found it physically hard to say out loud how much she adored him.

She inched closer again, her knee scraping his as she placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled his face close to her. Wanting what she said next to be something special that he would remember the next time he felt like complaining. She took a deep breath before she spoke.

“I love you baby.” She whispered tenderly, watching as John’s expression change.

His breath hitched momentarily, his cheeks flushing almost instantly as he averted his eyes. Staring off to the side as he tried his hardest to act natural.

Abigail frowned.

“What?” She asked, confused by his reaction.

“No, nothing.” John said hurriedly, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. “Thank you.” He croaked, swallowing thickly and refusing to look her in the eye.

“Thank you?” She asked, pulling her hands away and giving him a once over.

“Love you too.” He muttered quickly, his hands coming to rest in his lap as he continued to look anywhere but her eyes.

Abigail’s eyes trailed from the flush on his cheeks to his hands in his lap. A smirk playing on her lips as she started to piece things together.

“Did you… Like that?” She asked softly, eyeing his badly concealed erection. John didn’t respond. His jaw clenching as he tried to compose himself. “You like being called baby?�� She asked in a sultry tone.

John closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and refusing to engage with her. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been quite so embarrassed while he was alone with her. His body had betrayed him before. But nothing like this.

Abigail was smiling far too widely for the situation. She was grinning like an idiot as she leaned towards him. Taking advantage of the fact he refused to open his eyes and bringing her lips to his ear without his knowledge.

“Baby.” She whispered, making him jump and shiver violently. His eyes flew open and he looked to her with a panicked expression.

She was going to tell people.

Abigail studied the look on his face, feeling a little bad for playing with him like that. Lord knows she had her own kinks and he indulged them eagerly.

It just so happened that one of her favourite kinks was humiliation or more specifically, humiliating him.  

John knew this well and judging by the look on his face in that moment he was terrified of her getting her kicks using this newfound information.

“Don’t worry.” She chuckled, bringing her hand up to push his hair out of his face as she smiled at him cheekily. “Your secret’s safe with me, baby.”

“Stop.” John grumbled as sternly as he could.

“Come on John, you think you’re the first man I ever bedded with a Mommy Kink?” Abigail asked with a laugh, causing John’s eyes to widen in horror.

“I don’t have a Mommy Kink!” He exclaimed heatedly. “I just…” He stuttered. “I.. Sometimes I…” He trailed off, groaning in exasperation as he finally moved his hands from his lap and rubbed at his face irately.

“Like being my baby?” Abigail asked casually, shrugging as John exhaled forcefully.

“Stop.” He demanded gruffly. Danger in his eyes as he glared into hers. “It’s not… Like that.” He grunted. “I just, like the word.” He said, crossing his arms once more. “I guess.” He spat, shrugging and looking away.

Abigail hummed in reply, letting her hand trail lightly over his thigh as she thought. John fidgeted under her touch, desperately wanting to be mad at her.

“Is that why you always want to be the little spoon?” She asked after a moment, making John groan as he placed his head in his hands. “Or why you love it when I stroke your hair?” She asked, thinking out loud and making him whine.

“Please…” He sighed through his palms, begging her to let it go. He didn’t want this getting out. He didn’t even want her to know. The thought of the other guys finding out he loved to be babied made his blood run cold.

It was absolutely mortifying.

Abigail chuckled to herself, taking the hand that was on his thigh and letting it run through his hair. Her nails scratching at his scalp in just the way she knew he liked.  

They had been together a long time and during those long years John had only occasionally plucked up the courage to tell her about some of the things he liked. She always indulged him when he was brave enough to talk to her. But she was also well aware there were lots of things John thought about in the privacy of his own mind that she might never know about.

She never really understood his secrecy. She was an open book when it came to sex. He had known from day one who she was and what she liked. But she supposed a part of that came from her history as a prostitute. She couldn’t expect everyone to have the pluck that she had when it came to naming their kinks.

“You know you can talk to me about this stuff, right?” She asked after a long moment of silence. Her voice uncharacteristically soft as she brought her hand to his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “I guess I just don’t understand why you always keep your desires from me.” She said quietly, thinking out loud once more.

John swallowed audibly, tongue darting out to lick at his lips before he pulled his hands away from his face.

“I’m scared.” He said quietly. Shocking her. John was never one to admit his weakness if he could help it. She’d once seen him carry two sacks of rice over his shoulder with a broken ankle just to prove he didn’t need to rest.

Of course he’d spent the next 3 days in bed with his ankle swollen up to the size of a large grapefruit but he’d made his point.

“It’s okay to like things that are diff-” Abigail began, being cut off abruptly as John spoke.

“No.” He said firmly, his face serious. “I’m scared of you.” He clarified, making her balk.

“Wha-“ She began, being cut off again.

“I’m scared of you telling people about the things I like because you get off on it.” He hissed, looking away from her sadly. “You’ve done it before.” He reminded her. “I… I like being pushed around and told what to do, okay?” He asked, taking a tangential turn as he tried to gather his thoughts. “But I like it, because you like it and only when we’re alone. When you involve other people it makes me want to die.” He said strongly, making Abigail blink in surprise. She had no idea he felt that way. She was under the impression he was into the games they played.

“You always take the things I say in our arguments and throw them back at me when we’re fucking.” He snapped crudely. “You want to humiliate me. I get it. I’m okay with it… Mostly.” He swallowed, pursing his lips as he held out his hands like it would help him think. “But, sometimes you go too far and… fuck.” He whispered, feeling a burning behind his eyes and trying his hardest to ignore it. “I’m… having a hard time reminding myself that you don’t mean it.” He said softly. Trailing off as he lost his momentum. “I love you but I... I can’t trust you not to hurt me.” He said tiredly.

Abigail moved her hand from his shoulder, placing it in her own lap and thinking carefully before she spoke. She had an inkling that sometimes she pushed him too far. But she always figured that if he had a problem with it he would speak up.

He was always so confident and outspoken outside of sex. She never would have guessed that he would be too timid to tell her off if he didn’t like something.

“I’m sorry.” She said earnestly, with a small shrug of her shoulders. “I had no idea.” She explained, knowing deep down that it didn’t help.

John eyed her suspiciously. It wasn’t like her to take responsibility so easily.

“Okay…” He replied after a moment. Unsure what to do now that she had simply agreed with him. If he was honest he had been expecting a blow-out fight.

“I thought you liked… everything.” Abigail said softly, not making eye contact as she spoke. “I’ll try to be a little more in-tune with what you want from now on.” She assured, placing her hand on his thigh and petting him softly.

“Okay.” John repeated, feeling silly for not being able to say anything else in the moment. He was still riding the high of letting out his feelings without a rebuttal.

“Maybe, we can come up with a word or something.” Abigail suggested with a shrug, making John frown.

“I guess.” He said bluntly, looking uncomfortable. He didn’t want to need a safe word. He didn’t want to come up with one just for him. He didn’t want to be weak.

Abigail followed his train of thought, feeling bad for him.

“There’s no shame in it, John.” She whispered, making him avert his eyes once more.

“Not for you.” He spat, a little more aggressively than he’d meant to. “You won’t be the one usin’ it.” He said, quieter.

“Sure I will.” She replied kindly. Trailing off and letting the silence fall over them as she tried to think of what to say next.

The day was getting on she had only intended to step away from Jack for a minute. Not to sit down for a proper heart to heart.

A small part of her was screaming that John needed her in this moment. But another was crying out that she needed to get away from him. Take time to process everything that was said so she could really take it to heart and prevent another fight in the future.

“Well anyways… It’s getting late and I want to check on Jack.” She said finally, trying to end the conversation as tastefully as she could.

“Okay.” John replied quietly. Not really sure what else to say. His chest felt weird and while the burning behind his eyes had dulled significantly; it was still there.

He swallowed thickly, staring at his hands as he waited for her to leave.

“So… No calling you baby?” Abigail asked with a chuckle, feeling the need to try and lighten the mood before she left.

“Well…” John said quickly, opening his mouth to speak but not finding the words. “I… I mean. Maybe.” He trailed off once more, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. “Maybe, maybe sometimes.” He sputtered. “Maybe when, you’re…” He paused, hands moving to his lap once more. “T-telling me what to do.” He stammered. A far cry from the confident, assertive man he had been during their fight, minutes earlier.

Abigail’s lips quirked as she looked him over once again.

“Alright.” She said softly, nodding. She really did want him to feel like he could tell her anything and if she was being totally honest, she definitely wanted to explore whatever this new kink of his was.

She figured if she played her cards right, she could be calling him a naughty boy and spanking him by the end of the week.

Once they’d worked out their safe-word of course.

She grinned lightly, trying to hide it as John gave her an incredulous look.

“Seriously?” He asked in exasperation.

“I’m sorry.” Abigail said as sincerely as she could manage before forcing herself to stand. She straightened her skirt with her palms before placing them on her hips and turning to him with the most serious face she could manage.

John blinked at her slowly, rolling his eyes.

“Go on.” He sighed, knowing full well she had something she wanted to say.

Abigail snorted, losing her composure and breaking into an all-out grin as she cackled.

“Well, Mumma’s gotta’ go get some breakfast.” She chortled as she walked outside and left him alone to regret getting out of bed.

 End.

~~~

Just to clarify I wouldn’t say John actually has a Mommy Kink per say, that was more Abigail teasing him. (not that there’s anything wrong with that, you do you as consenting adults) but he definitely does like being taken care of and babied in the privacy of his own tent/home. So do with that info what you will. ;)

Please let me know if you liked this/what you liked about it! I’m feeling a rush of motivation lately and would love to keep this streak going!! ❤

[mythykl]

UNSPOKEN,, *todoroki x (f) reader

Genre : fanfic, smut *aged up* (shoto is imagined to be 21yo or something,, and reader as 19yo)

rating : explicit, NSFW, 17+

Warning : fingering, oral?? todo is pretty horny overall. starts w a pretty intense bg story, so you gotta read through all that to get to the good stuff. cool.

words?? idk, it’s pretty lengthy tho.

our todoboi is a pretty lovin’ bf in here.

————————-

“I’m really sorry for yesterday, Y/N. I-I did’n-”

You clench your fists as you sit on the couch beside him, and interrupt, “Whatever it is- save it, I don’t blame you to begin with. I-I’m just mad. I’d spent almost a week for that chapter, to give justice and bring perfection in what I wanted to put across to the readers. Well- its not even about the time; I had thought through it so much, and atlas thought of typing it out yesterday- I mean- whatever crap that I had even written, I was proud of that- until,, your ignorant ass decided to show up in the room and fuckin’ switched off the computer assuming it’s already logged off, o-or whatever. You could’ve at-at least- fuck-” yup ya ass is livin’ in the worst nightmare of a writer, stay steady

You of course cried, and even threw a tantrum for an hour or so once you realized what had happened. But primarily, you were just mad- mad at yourself for not saving that damn file, and even at him cuz ofc. 

Todoroki certainly didn’t take it well, since he is sad at present, and can’t even look in your eyes. He apologized multiple times since last night and had even prepared a breakfast for you before leaving for work; on the other hand, you haven’t even answered to his appeals yet with clarity.

Out of the blue you just cup his cheeks, making him instantly look up- at you, and then get up with an audible sigh, “Go get ready, I’ll prepare our dinner by then.” That gesture somehow took him aback. 

He gets up instantly and blurts out in confusion, “I d-didn’t expect you to prepare a dinner for me, and on top of it- wait for me so we can have it together. You should’ve ate already, it’s almost midnight.”

You turn back to him, walking towards him to hold his hands, "I honestly don’t know what to reply. My heart- just thought it is the right thing to do that; one mistake isn’t enough to just hate you all of a sudden, Shoto. Moreover we are talking about this, it’s not like you’re being arrogant or things are left unsaid- and you’re genuinely sorry. I can see that in your eyes. I’m just- I don’t know. I’m depressed a bit- yes, but it can’t be helped now. I need some time to think, maybe.” 

Little did you know that your kind words pricked him like thousands of tiny needles against his skin. He loves you, and however seemingly ‘small’ mistake this might be, he hates himself for hurting you- the person he loves so dearly. He thinks of his mother, his complicated family life- which had made him seemingly unemotional. You were one of the people to break through that forged cold wall. He had finally accepted you as his reality than his mere escapism and live with you, but here he is- bringing tears and fueling anger in you, like a good for nothing- just like his father.

After a slight pause, he just busts his arms open and pull you close to him, in his warm embrace, “What did I possibly do to deserve such an angel?” He almost whispers in his beautiful voice.

An angel? 

“So talented, pretty, wonderful, real and warm. Remember. I love you. No matter what. I always will. And I respect you- your passion, interests, talent, likes and dislikes, freedom, strengths-weakness, your work, happiness- everything. Throw all the tantrums you want and cry all you want- more than just agreeing and being there for you- I’ll always make sure I understand you first. I’m sorry for being so ignorant lately.”

It may seem as if he’s crying, but he’s not. He said all that with a tough stance and gratefulness in his tone, a faint disbelief of having you as his significant other. While you just stood there, in surprise. You aren’t oblivious to his past and his journey through it. Is he blaming himself? or Is he again thinking that he doesn’t deserve happiness?- you’re at the loss of words and a mind fumbling all over the place. You simply subside the chaos, and hug him back. 

“We’re definitely working, Todoroki. Understanding each other more than just being in love- something that many fail to do. Isn’t this great?” You at last blurt out.

“Yes. I guess,” he says as he detaches himself from you, “I’ll be right back- until then, read what I’ll send you as you have dinner. Gonna sound stupid of me- but I already had dinner at office. I assumed that you’d not prepare a meal for me and- would be asleep by now as well.”

“Wow icyhot, I’m mad at you even more now,” you say playfully as you walk towards the kitchen.

“I-”

“Save it. You would be saying that for the millionth time now,” you chuckle as you grab your phone, lying on the dinner table.

Before serving your food, you decide to see the text, only to find an attachment with a rather strange message- ‘Hey, here’s an headcanon for chapter 37, that I wrote. Enjoy.’

Wait-

Headcanon??

Wait did he- read your wattpad book? And moreover, came up with a theory to what might happen in the ne- next chapter.

Nice. jk. Ofc you lost your shit

For the sake of getting back to senses, you legit do the deep breathing shit- which your therapist always recommended you to do.

Now what?

You serve yourself some noodles instantly, since you don’t feel hungry anymore, rush to the dining table and start chomping on the cold noodles as you open the attachment.

What made you almost throw up was that the mention of word counts. Which is 3k by the way, though no where near how much you usually write.

Shoto is definitely not the kinda guy to have read any wattpad books, or more specifically even have come across the word 'headcanon’.

He probably noticed how you mention it as well at the end, but decided to put it in the beginning,, for god knows what reason?? Or, he did decide to go through the fanons- which your readers’ posts on tumblr. This eases your nervousness, you clearly urge for more.

You swipe down, reading furiously fast, yet scanning every word and sentence- atleast twice. The chapter, honestly, was mediocre. He had ideas but couldn’t put them across- with excessive repetition of words, but he is almost close to-

“Honey, are you done?” Todoroki’s voice almost scares you. You look at your bowl ready to grab another bite- but you had already finished the meal.

“Earth to Y/N. Don’t tell me my words were that mesmerizing,” he says with a smile as he rubs his hair with a towel.

“Let’s be honest, though you don’t have the talent of a writer, your idea was- kinda similar to mine. What I’m sayin is that you almost. GOT. IT. RIGHT. Well, kuro did spy on KAORI’S house that unfaithful night, and he didn’t have any sources as such, which does mean that he is hiding his real quirk- but, no- I’m not telling you more than that.”

“Since you already know that I read all your chapters, and did like the book- I certainly can’t wait to understand why KURO would possibly do that.”

You just smirk off his curiosity; “You gotta wait boy,” you say as you as you walk back to kitchen counter with your bowl. Todoroki marches behind you to grab the cleaning cloth to clean the table, as you do the dishes.

“Put that towel in the washing machine, please.”

“Yup,” you almost feel an ounce of happiness in his reply. After he closes the machine’s door, you at last ask, "So what are your thoughts?“ It has never been one of you expectations for the people to you read your books or even, praise you for writing, but a review wouldn’t hurt, would it?

"Uhh- well, I love how everything is now just coming together, as one can foreshadow that the book’s gonna end. The use of words was elegant, and the plot is bewitching. Has been a while since I even read anything in thriller, that too- this good. Fuck. Reading kaori’s point of view just the day before the murder was- unbelievable. And characters, they all are just great.”

That is indeed a Todoroki kinda explanation. 

“Wow you did read all of tha-” but before you could complete your statement, shoto just grabbed your hips and stood tall behind you, now speaking in an extremely low tone, “And not to mention- the first sex between Kaori and Braun, it literally was like the depiction of ours. Except, they were awkward and slow, we weren’t.”

You pause. what took over him all of a sudden?

He continues, “That gave me a whole another perspective to what sex really means, and moreover what intimacy mean to you. It was.. surreal. Reading it, was as if- I’m living through that afternoon again, but with more emotions, and a bit more of you.”

“It’s not like I’ve explored much to actually wri-”

 “Oh, is that so?”

“I’m not complaining, of course, but these are the moments I believe must be left to cherish and our intimate times just feel more- sacred to me like this??” Sigh, “Ugh. Now, how do I explain?” Well, that is true, even though Todo and you’ve dated for almost two years now, it was just four months ago that you lost your virginity with him, on your nineteenth birthday. 

He had already lost his with the previous girl he was with. Though he never implied, it felt as if you were obliged to do it for him, due to your own insecurities. Once he got to know that, his reaction was nothing as what you had thought. He said that he loved you, and such things are nothing related to love; that sex is overrated, and continued on saying dorky yet adorable stuff like- cuddling was much better and what not. Since then, you had sex with him just thrice. None of you were really against this unspoken agreement, to not have-

Wait, an unspoken agreement?

Unspoken.

You instantly feel like an hypocrite, since you had just claimed to have nothing unspoken between you both.

Sudden a sharp pain in the skin of your neck brings you back to reality. Shoto is sucking on your skin, kissing ever so lightly. As if marking you.

An audible morn escape your parted lips as the bowl just falls on the kitchen sink. Todoroki leans forward and simply closes the tap and whispers, “So you do like to be 'submissive’, don’t you? Had this discovery while reading one of your books, 'Starless nights’.”

The exact book for which you had to watch vintage porn to make the chapters with intercourses more sensual and intresting.

Again, taking you by surprise, he simply turns you around as you continue stare at the ground with your hands wet, in front of you like dog’s pow.

“So I assume you liked my headcanon.”

“Yup; was much better than the crap I write, let’s go to-” but you’re interrupted-

“Now baby, we both know you’re the better writer, and that you just lied.”

“That was sarcas-” but he just pulls you closer and spanks you hard. You hiss as the pain spreads all over your butt cheeks.

“Never interfere, Y/N.” Wait wut-

Your immediate reaction was biting your lips- is he saying the words from the book? Not exactly inacting them but attempting to set a similar atmosphere, which you lowkey craved for in your wildest dreams.

“Since I’ve anyways taken this unspoken, unofficial oath of keeping you happy and stuff, now why not help you with some satisfaction- with all those juices flowing down your-”

You suddenly push him back and blurt while blushing hard, “Stop with this teasing and aw- awkward co- conversations todoroki! Fuckin’ juices, seriously? I’m not co- comfortable with-”

But then, you notice his right hand in your shorts. Or more like the sheer coldness against you clit, almost like there’s ice against it. When did his hand go in there? You end up clenching his T-shirt, as you jolt up on your toes.

“You. Clearly. Want. This. Don’t. You.” Suddenly, he pulls his hand out as he grabs your ass tight as he pulls you even further. Then, he brings his hand up to the height of you face and simply starts stares at the dampness on his fingers, “Wetter than I suspected." 

Now behold the unbelievable.

He keeps staring at his fingers, opens his mouth as he places his fingers into them and suck it as you watch this piece of art in awe.

"Can’t believe that I had you like- just thrice before this. You do live up to what I usually call you, honey.” He continues, “I hope you’ve noticed my creativity as well, as i used my coldness to.. nudge it.”

“You’re being quite quirky today, aren’t you?” This statement just makes him go still, and the next second he’s found laughing. His deep voice, almost reverberating in the silent room. He steps back, brings one hand to his face as he looks down and continues to laugh. The mere sight of him in this way gives you so much warmth, this is the moment you realize that this is the true home. With him.

When he finally looks up, the mere sight of you blushing so hard makes him lose his composure again, but this time it’s a nervous laugh. 

Approaching closer, you set your hands on his torso and continue, “That was quite execrable pun to chortle at, we were doing excellent just now-” but in reply, he simply cups his hand around your cheeks and say, “Shit y/n. You’re going to be the death to me,” and continues grinning like an airhead.

Why is he being annoying now? After so much sexual tension, how can he stop? In midst of you cursing yourself in your head, he leans at your height and kisses you.

Finally being out of patience, you look at the ground and stutter, “Ca-can we do i-it al-alrea-”

“Quite frankly, I’d like if you stay quiet, you shall take what I’ll give you, right?”

You look up immediately into his beautiful heterochromic eyes and say without any further doubts with a smirk, “Go ahead, Shoto, who am I to deny?”

“Sedective. umm, I like that.” he smirks too.

“Know that I love you,” and that’s it. Within one second, his hands are in your hair and his face is buried in your neck, digging deeper into you, as if uprooting releasing your soul from your body.

Skin glistening on your collar bone now and colours warming up on your cheeks, you whimper under his dominance, as he squeezes your waist and lightly nips against your shoulder. You shiver, with pretty evident  goosebumps, in spite of the heat you both bear at this point. 

Your breath gets hitched in your throat as he moves inwards below your collarbones. while his hands rest on your waist. You involuntarily climb a bit on him, intending to close the gap, but more to feel his manhood against you. Your hands firmly on his shoulders, almost pushing him back- maybe because it’s too much pleasure to feel at once. 

At another rise of your hips, Todoroki places his hand on your waist and pushes you back down, “Easy, easy princess,” he mummers before getting back to fiercely kissing me. You run your fingers through his hair, as you body slowly commences to accept an indeed new experience bombarded at you. 

Suddenly, you remember something. In heist, you shove him back and say, “Wait! We need to wash our hands- I- I mean we have just did chores. Well, at least partially and I need to wash myself- I mean I’m clean,” but then you stop to look at him just to find him in utter shock. 

“Shoto! I mean I want this but hygiene is impor- fuck. I’m. Such. A. Boner. Killer. Ain’t I?”

“Point made.” Todoroki picks you up in bridal style and rushes towards the bathroom.  for some reason i thought of adding this,, lmao

“Wait what-?”

“No time to waste.”

This makes you giggle a bit. You wash yourself while he as well washes his hands, and you practically pull him out of the bathroom, grab him by his collar and kiss him deeply as his hands slowly move up and down, feeling your torso- flesh untouched due to s mere knit. 

His hand unapologetically moves to the hem of your sweater, and further inside; but within one move of his, you stood there shivering, exposed. 

Immediately, you move forward in order to close the distance between you and shoto out of nervousness. His eyes drop down to your heaving chest and you’re painfully aware of that.

“Don’t. Don’t hide,” he mutters, grabbing a hold of your hands and locking them behind with one of his own for you to stay still; as he slides his other in your shorts. You feel his gentle hand running down the slit.

“Honey you’re dripping wet, what have i done to this innocence?” It seems that he expected a reply, but you didn’t. You just couldn’t. He then pulls the other hand to you face, diving in for yet another passionate kiss- accompanied by a battle of tongues this time. You are going breathless, but he refuses to move away.

The creasing in your folds level up to three fingers now,. He isn’t generous anymore, with aggressive circles in there, he finally commands, “Say my name.” 

“Sho-shoto.” Your moans only fuel in his lust and desires, his want, an indeed selfish want to have you all for himself, to offer the utmost satisfaction.

He pushes a finger into you as you instinctively let out a small breath hold his busy arm with both of your hands. This makes him push you against the wall with his free hand.

“M-my legs, it’s going numb,” on hearing this, he removes his own shirt and slightly repositions himself, with one hand now on the waist and the other back in there. He kisses your forehead as you look down, unable to keep up with his pace.

That’s when the coldness returns.

 “I- ah- can we ge-get to the bed first?” Your stuttered words only results in a widened smile from him. He is enjoying the sight, clearly in love with the effect he has on you. His head shakes, further sliding another finger inside you, “You can do it baby. You’re taking it all in without questioning.”

You nod quickly, as you start climb up a bit again. In return, he slowly curls his fingers- more and more with each passing second making you almost cry out this time, “Please n-no, this is too intense for me.”

“Yet my princess didn’t make Braun stop after that, I read in somewhere that Kaori secretly wished for him to not stop even if she said so. Just go on.”

You didn’t know how to come back at it, because it is true. You want your Shoto to push those limits you’ve set for himself, and you’d as well be fine if he simply throws off you cliff at this point. 

“Now now, spread your legs y/n.” 

Did he say something? You couldn’t listen. With eyes rolled back, you can’t comprehend anything to begin with.

“SPREAD YOU LEGS or else I won’t play nicely.” You’re eyes shoot up, and find his already searching for yours; before leaning in and gently kissing you. Your legs not being shut anymore, todo takes the opportunity, making his finger get stuffed deeper. His two digits start moving faster and harder, pounding against your walls- all while he feels you squirm to slow down.

“You can take it hun’,” he definitely knows what he’s doing, and you’re totally in for it. “Y-yes,” you moan softly. This is when he slides in a third finger, now really making you scream.

You attempt to gasp and struggle to stand, but then he says,”Stay,” as you unknowingly slide down the wall. Your nails dig in the skin of his back as you try to stable your stance on your tip toes yet eventually, your legs give out on you.

Suddenly, you feel him hit a spot which just pulls something inside your stomach. Todoroki on the other hand, notices your unusual hitched breath and starts hitting the SAME. EXACT. SPOT.

His free hand goes to the back and around your waist, holding you evermore tightly so that you won’t hurt yourself.

“I feel- like that- again-,” you manage to blurt.

“Like what?”

“Like pe-peeing, b-but different. Just like th-the last time we-”

He simply smirks, “We what?” He sighs and growls in your ear, “Is princess gonna squirt for me?”

Your body shudders against him as you moan his name, again and again, “Shoto, I-I-”

“That’s it. Squirt for me y/n,” with that he removes his hand entirely for one second, only to push two digits inside again, now thirsting harder and curling tighter; with his thumb against you slit. His hand grows even more colder, almost stinging down there, making you restless. 

“Now.”

He watches you open your mouth and moan loudly, as his hand only gets wetter, feeling you squirt against his hand. You shake hard in his hold. He doesn’t let you go. A tear escapes you eyes, but simply doesn’t seem to care,”Shoto, for some reason I-I feel s-so great wi-with yo-,” but you are interrupted as he shoves you further against the wall , sliding down your shorts and undergarment, again with three fingers in.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises you while curling those fingers inside and then removing them together. He further continues, “seems like you’re ready,“ as he rubs the wetness inside the slit, giving special attention to your clit.

Saying that, he kneels down, now facing lower abdomen and plants a kiss over there. You simply look down at him, still struggling to balance, searching for even a slightest hint to know what is there to come.

Maybe he’ll stand up an carry you to the bed? or How about making him feel better this time?

But then, his face smashes his face on your dampness; almost attempting to bury in it as he holds you up and pushes. your legs apart. You clearly know where this is going, todoroki will be showing no mercy whatsoever.

"That wasn’t even the start honey,” he confesses in midst of you moans and begs for him to go slow. It doesn’t hurt anymore as much as it gives an unbearable form of pleasure.

You moan and whimper, yet he continues to suck in your clit. You can feel a finger inside, or maybe two, as they go in and out. Practically shattering you all at once while fusing you once for all.

Your hand travel its way to his hair. Ruffled enough to make the red and the white parts almost indistinguishable.

Oh dear.

Though your eyes are close, hands are fumbling around for support and legs are strictly held in place by Shoto, yet you can feel his tongue moving. As if in patterns, not that you could figure out. It either went in for an eight or just licked off entirely as one does while eating an icecream. You moan his name again and again, the same sensation building up block by block as he paves deeper and denser.

“I can’t take this anymor-”

“What makes you think that’s gonna stop me from eating this pussy.”

Little do you know that shoto can’t hold back anymore, it’s not just that he is in control but he has lost control. At the sight of your dark flushed red cheeks, delicacy and vulnerability, he only gets faster and tougher on you. His other fingers reach around and grips your ass, with his fingers slightly grazing across your unused hole.

That’s it, that was enough for you to go stagnant again, in your mind atleast. Your legs start shaking, with your mouth parted yet again. Shoto quickly stands up, with fingers still inside, to help you stay stood up. You feel yourself about to pass out, but in actuality are fully awake and aware. He kisses you, now moaning with you as well, as he fingers you until you cum.

His teeth take in your lower lip as your eyes flicker up at his unmatched ones.

Shoto, with one hand against the wall, halts for a minute. He stands tall in front of you, while holding you as you struggle to stand.

In midst of huffed breaths, you manage to say, “I- I, I mean- can I make you feel good as well?” On listening thise words, he goes still, “Baby, you can barely stand.”

“Still-” but again, before you could say anything, he picks you up in bridal style and dropping you on the bed; letting you lay back while he removed his left over garments.

This is when his erect manhood is finally exposed, refilling your memories of your first time when you had simply wondered how would you take all of that in. You did, though it was painful. But this time you refuse to be scared by the length, you know this is going to feel the best and you’re willing to take him in, deep inside you.

Shoto sighs and walks to the bed, “No-”

“Shoto?”

“Tonight is about you. Let ME explore you.”

“I wa-wanna hug you,” you blurt out.

He giggles, “sure, all that my y/n wants shall come true.”

But when you attempt to get up, your legs just fail to response. Even the slightest movement feels like a bolt of electricity run through you. At the sight of you falling back on the bed, Shoto simply smirks and says, “By the looks of it, I think I did a pretty good job at pushing your limits.”

“Don’t- I can’t even walk.”

“Wait,” he climbs on the bed beside you, sitting with back against the headboard while you lie against him, still breathless, still attempting to move.

“Don’t move princess,” saying this, he carefully pulls you up, with your head on his thigh. He helps you sit up slowly, while embracing your body against him, and finally hugs you, like a child clenching onto his teddy favourite bear.

“You are so beautiful,” he says as he gets up, while eyes glued on you. He moves to the end of the bed and pulls you towards him as he climbs in again. His two digits reenter your dampness, almost making you hiss at first but it’s soon replaced with moans.

Your back arcs as you mumble, “Sho-shoto, I’m very sensitive ri-right n-now. ah-”

While on his part, he receives it as a signal to level up to the next stage. He slowly penetrates in, soon pacing up. Warmth filled in your hearts and sweat glinting the lustre. He repostions you both a couple of times, giving you different forms of pleasures with each go. 

You as well witness his fire quirk leaking out at times. He kisses you deeply and claims you as his own as he repeats the words, “I’ll never let you go.”

Now it’s past 3am, as your exhausted bodies lay next to each other; that’s when he whispers, “I love you.” Maybe he thinks you are already asleep, but you are not. He clearly can’t leave anything unspoken.

i hope this has left you baffled 

[north-peach]

Whoops, lemme fic it (SW)

So I’ve been tossing this idea over in my head, daydreaming, wordbuilding and talking to myself and I’ve had enough.

It’s time to come out.

So, I tried the SI fic once and I didn’t like how it turned out and it was a good few years before wrote one again. There’s a lot of good ones, done by good authors. Silver Queen, Shadowblayze, Vixen Tail, and Mullk6 to name a handful.

But I wanted a character who knew the depth and breath of canon and could fix it. In Star Wars. With Mandalorians. 

Which is usually a self insert, but....wasn’t feeling it.

Then it shifted to time travel. Main characters generally revolved around Bly, Aalya Secura, Quinlan Vos or Anakin, Rex and Alpha-17. Then it was a mix, sometimes Padme or Ahsoka, Jon Antilles or Fay, thanks to @blackkatmagic.

Then it was Boba Fett, Jango, Arla or Jaster even Tarre Vizsla. Korkie Kryze, a mix of his father’s ‘obi’ sound with ‘kote’ as in ‘glory’.

It’s been almost a month since this thought sprang from my head, exactly the opposite of Athena, but here it is.

My first Star Wars time travel fic.

Bly doesn’t wake, not for a long time. 

Even if he is aware of the pressure against bare skin and the alternating temperatures that cause him to shiver or sweat to beat across his face.

He doesn’t wake to the snack, crack of the whip against his back, nor to the claws that rake across his face, but as the days pass, it is pain that draws him back from the dark.

The cold metal of manacles around his wrists, the dull throbbing of his knees against cool, packed dirt. He doesn’t move even as chains rattle and as a weak light flickers in tiny bursts even though he can’t quite open his eyes.

Bly takes a deliberate breath, deliberately breathing in long and slow.

Ribs, is his first immediate thought as pain now screams in his head, followed instantly by, back.

His arms are numb, lips cracked, throat and mouth dryer then Tatooine and it feels like someone’s poured sand in his eyes and then glued them shut.

We release our emotions, our pain into the Force. We breath it back in and then stand and carry on. Lives depend on us. The trick to keeping the pain away is it set it aside and ignore it. But you need to remember, Bly, pain is our body telling us we’re injured. You cannot ignore it forever.

It’s her voice in his head, the memories always there as soon as he tugs them and he barely muffles a noise in the shifting of his chains because the last thing Bly remembers is a fractured and shattered thing that provides nothing to help him determine his situation.

Beyond the obvious of captured, separated and tortured. 

A breath, another and his fingers twitch as he tries to get his hands to response to his commands.

He moves his eyes, scrunching his face, and ignoring the sting of scabbed wounds and manages to crack his eyes open. He’s in a room, surrounded by stone and bars. An electrical lamp flicker erratically in a halo of barely there light in the distance.

No one is there. He is alone.

He listens, strains his hearing, yet nothing so much as stirs. 

Bly goes back to restoring feeling in his body.

A minute, two and then an unpleasant rush of pins and needles as sensation returns to his arms. Bly grits his teeth and clenches his thighs, his legs then curls his toes under his feet, allowing his body weight to force him to rock back, using the momentum to stagger to his feet.

Lights prickle against what little vision he has and the chains jerk and rattle as he uses them as leverage to remain on his feet.

Pain bursts across his back, down his legs, his knees, every motion and contraction of his body, his muscles sends signals of agony to his brain.

“Osik.”

The word is almost soundless, hissed between clenched teeth and formed from harsh, gasping breaths.

Bly cannot help how his body curls over it self, even if it sends the blood rushing to his head and makes him even more dizzy. He braces his feet and refuses to pass out.

He doesn’t know where Aalya is.

He doesn’t know who he was with, what he was doing, if any of his vod’e are here, Bly doesn’t know anything.

He remembers blue and gold, the blue of Aayla’s skin, the gold of her eyes, maybe the blue of the 501st? Was General Skywalker on mission with them?

Was... was Vos there?

There’s nothing but a blank space in his head, so Bly puts that away for now and takes stock of what he has on hand.

Which is, in short, a big fat nothing.

He’s in loose pants, thin material, covered in dirt and blood, no shirt, no armor, no weapons- even the small tools disguised as a ring, bracelet- he’s got nothing.

It looks like he’s chained up underground in a cave somewhere. That’s the only explanation for both his surrounding and the relatively cool atmosphere. There’s a door that’s barely even a door, just a large rectangular slab of rusty bars almost propped against the entry way.

He could probably kick it open, depending on how heavy it was, but that was once he found a way out of his chains-

Bly pauses.

Looks up at the roof of his cell where the chains are anchored.

Well, he thinks, an edge of amusement to himself, If I can take my chains with me, I’ll have a weapon.

__________

Honestly, later, if someone asked how long he was stuck there in the murky darkness working and working to pull the anchor points of his chains from the ceiling, Bly wouldn’t be able to say.

He stops and rests when the injuries on his back crack open, spilling blood down his skin and dripping onto the floor, when his ribs scream at him and his breath wheezes as he desperately tries to breath.

He doesn’t ever stop for long though.

Eventually he gets free, the rest anchor breaking free of crumbling stone and Bly sinks to his knees, wincing as pain flares up again.

A moment of rest, to wait until his breathing slows down enough he can regulate it for sleath.

Then he carefully wraps his new weapon around his shoulders, winding them down his arms. Slowly, he makes his way to the door that is currently the only obstacle in his way to relative freedom.

It was heavy as it looked, but several solid shoves and one frustrated kick and the door was free enough for him to squeeze past it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about directions at the moment because his cell was located at the end of a hallway and the only way out was forward.

So forward Bly went, creeping along the walls on bare feet, moving steadily down to where a single light was valiantly, but ultimately failing at lighting up the area.

Bly took a breath and walked past, heading deeper into the caves with no way of knowing which way was out, if anyone was waiting for him on the other end or even if he could find a way out.

Bly didn’t care because right now, there was an entirely unacceptable amount of space between him and his General and it needed to be rectified, right karking now.

__________________

Times passes and Bly has to take a breather, has to sit to wait for his legs, his hands, everything to stop shaking even as chills crawled up his skin.

He keeps going, keeps following the eternal hallway he seems to be trapped in. Occasionally he’ll come across other cells, but like all of the ones he checked previously, there isn’t anyone in them. Just chains, manacles, shakes, crude stone tables or chairs.

The weak lights are not quite evenly spaced out, but every cluster of cells has one in the middle of the block. He’s sure he’s passed about six blocks by now, and still no sign of this hallway ending or branching off.

A part of him wonders if he’s hallucinating, but the continuous pain for his body begs to tell him differently.

He trails bloodstained hands against the wall and so far he hasn’t randomly circled back around so he must be making progress.

You were modified to see better in the dark? Compared to humans, or near-humans, Twi’leks vision is considered superior, but without the Force, I’m thinking you’d win at Hide-and-Seek-in-the-Dark.

My favorite color? Tell me, if I said blue wh- no, I’m kidding! It’s gold Bly. W- No, not like my eyes! Like Master’s-

Bly can hear Aalya sometimes.

The way she laughed, said his name or how she would stare at him. When her mouth softened and she smiled so easily.

Bly keeps going.

______

Hours? Maybe days later, Bly hears voices that are, for once, not his or in his head. A soft murmur, nothing clear enough to make out words or the like, but Bly grits his teeth and quickly lunges into the nearest cell and flattens himself in a natural curve of the walls.

He’s lost weight during how ever long he’s been here, so he folds himself easily into the shadows and evens his breath down, ignoring the ever familiar spasm of pain his ribs makes with every movement.

A beat, two, three, longer and still the voices only murmur. 

Bly slows moves from his hiding place only to step right back into it as the voices abruptly rise in volume along with a feminine scream of pain that rings off the walls and is swallowed by the darkness that leads down to his cell.

Gently, Bly uncoils his chains.

______

When enough time passes he can make out the heavy footfalls of two armored being’s footsteps and the unmistakable sound of dragging feet, Bly closes his eyes and concentrates on his hearing.

“-Ne shab'rud'niÖ, aruetii-”

“-aruetyc dini'la-”

The sharp sound of metal against flesh, followed by a harsh vocalizer.

“Ne'johaa!“

A faint moan, before one of the men laughs.

See, the thing is Bly isn’t considered Mandalorian.

In fact, Manda’yaim considers Bly and his brothers to be abominations. Soulless things created in a lab. Not to mention General Kenobi’s Duchess is a pacifist in the very worst way. 

A Mandalorian with a Mandalorian’s stubbornness, determination and pride to be anything but a Mandalorian. 

Good intention’s Satine Krytze may have had at the beginning but erasing everything that makes Mandalor Mandalor was not the way to go about bringing peace to her people.

Especially since the Duchess had the final say on if the Clones of Mand’alor Jango Fett should be considered citizens of Manda’yaim. Or rather, she just enforces Prime’s opinion that clones were not real people and this couldn’t be a people or a part of a people.

Jango Fett may have been some high ranked Mandalorian in certain circles, but the only reason why the clones even knew the languages is because of the instructors who adopted the older batches and how those clones would teach one or two- like Kote who became Cody, who taught Ret who was now Rex.

The language and the customs spread from the clones who were actually wanted down to even the shiniest of shinies. Of course, there were parts of their culture that they developed all on their own. 

Being modelled after a Mandalorian, of course, meant that they shared the same traditions and quirks that they did as a consequence of being so closely related.

The colors, symbols and naming to mention a few.

Colors all had meaning, as did their placement, the same with symbols and the bucket everyone wore. Working with the jetiise as closely as they did, their culture took bits and pieces that resonated with the Vod’e and as it did with everything, spread to all the battalions. 

But when he hears a threatening form of behave, traitor followed by two words that mean ‘traitorous’  and ‘insane’ preceding what is clearly an armored fist making contact with someone’s bare skin, Bly’s already pretty sure who’s side he’s on.

That’s even before he sees the dusty blue and the gray of beskar in the dim lighting worn by two people dragging what looks like a teenaged girl between them.

Kyr’tsad. 

Kriffing, karking-!

Bly untucks himself from the shadows and creeps up behind the two, careful to keep to the walls until he lunges forward, throwing one of his chains between target two’s legs even as he losses a coil of chains around target one’s neck and pulls back.

His ribs scream, his arms shake, but he drops his weight and wrenches the shabuir back, his legs kicking out the catch the small space between armor plates on Death Watch’s lower back to toss him over and behind.

Target the second is already dropping the girl, pale blonde hair visible in the gloom and reaching for a weapon at their belt.

Bly doesn’t give them the chance, jerking his chain back instantly compromising target two’s balance.

Barely ten seconds in this fight and both of them are on the ground. Target one is still choking with the chain around their neck and Bly keeps yanking it back to ensure they stays that way.

The other, Bly goes in for close combat, using his chain as bet he can with his shoulders and ribs kriffed up, but he manages to get enough wrapped around their legs and a single arm that he’s able to jab his fingers into the hollow of their throat and jerk their helmet off.

Eyes, nose, mouth, all places Bly can do some damage, but his strength is flagging so he slams his palm into their nose, once, twice, thrice until the shabuir goes limp.

One down, one to go.

Bly cracks the chain and sends the last stumbling even as he palms a vibroblade and uses the weight at the end of the chain the move himself close enough to-

Bly swings up, twists and lets dead weight fall where it may.

A moment, two, three before he breaths again, carefully, adrenaline pumping through his body. He pulls the chain taunt and swings the blade down. Metal chips, but doesn’t break do he does it again, again, again until it gives and all he’s left with is a manacle around his wrist.

The process repeats until he’s free from the weight of chains and he’s free. An arm carefully wraps around his chest as he struggles to breath, but he forces himself back up, to rifle through the utility belts and pockets to see what other weapons or rations he can find.

The first pocket he searches has a whole flask of water and he immediately takes small slow sips, 

He coughs, the taste of iron lingering in the back of his throat, but already his day is starting to pick up. Setting the water back down, he turns his attention to the small body crumpled on the ground.

Gingerly he makes his way over, easing himself to the floor and reaching out a hand-

-before pausing. 

All three of them spoke Mando’a. Even in the dim lighting, Bly can see all the bruises up an down the girl’s arms. So he opens his mouth to speak, only to cough, his entire body lighting up in pain as his ears start to ring.

It takes a minute, but when he stops, he carefully wets his lips and tries again.

“Hey, ade.”

Silence.

In the hallway, there’s only the sound of his strained breathing and her soft breaths.

Bly doesn’t know if she’s faking or not. Either way, he can’t afford to take any more injuries.

He coughs again, hunching over and unable to avoid the low groan of pain that crawls up his throat.

He does his best to breath, there in the dark with the girl either genuinely unconscious or faking it. Either way, the pain is distracting him and he’s going to need to sit there for a moment before he attempts any other movements.

Regardless he tries again and ignores how his voice cracks.

“I’mma...I’mma need you to wake up here, ad’ika.”

His back burns where he’s leaning against the wall and he can feel the blood begin to drip again. He doesn’t know how much he’s lost, how many times he’s reopened his wounds, but considering how lightheaded he is, considering how everything is starting to close in on him, it’s probably more then recommended. 

The world blurs around the edges and his awareness drifts away for a bit. Somewhere, far away, it sounds like Aayla singing, her voice echoing with the 327th Star Corps.

_____

“Gar shuk meh kyrayc.“

Bly blinks back to awareness.

The girl knees in front of him, short blonde hair framing a pale face. Barely out of childhood, even if she looks like she’s in need of a few good meals.

Then the words register.

He can’t help the amusement that wells up and huffs a laugh he immediately regrets.

“Here,” the girl says as she shoves a fist in front of him.

He flinches back, before stilling himself.

The girl doesn’t react, just holds up the water flask in her other hand.

“It’s for the pain. The tall one carried them.”

A breath, then he reaches out, ignoring the shaking on his hands, to let the girl drop two small pills into his hands while shoving the water at him. More careful sips as the pills go mostly dry down his throat.

“Vor entye,” Bly rasps.

“Ba'gedet'ye,” she says, eyes running over his face, his chest, a wary twist to her mouth. “You’re no use dead.”

Unnecessary for her to repeat that, Bly thinks. Scared, but brave. His lips twitch  as he runs a searching gaze over the girl.

Torn clothes, almost identical to his own, only with a shirt and less blood and dirt. Thin wrists, lank and greasy hair, coupled with even more bruises he can see blooming everywhere on uncovered skin.

Including her face, one cheeks which sports several colors that frame lines of dried blood and a split lip.

Gently, carefully, Bly lifts a hand and hovers in front of the injury. Not touching, close, but out of reach.

“And you?”

She blinks, startled. The barest hints of confusion crinkle her brow.

Bly smiles, letting his hand drop.

“Are you hurt, ad’ika?”

A touch of fire burns in her eyes.

“You’re bleeding.”

It’s almost an accusation, the words falling harshly from her mouth.

He acknowledges the point.

“Lek.” He continues, more solemnly, shifting his weight forward to meet her eyes, slowly enough that she doesn’t react beyond tensing her muscles. “But Kry’tsad is not known for being kind.”

Slowly, the girl shakes her head.

A moment of silence passes and the girl watches him. Bly gets his breathing back under control and deeply appreciates as the pounding in his head fades along with the burning in his shoulders and arms.

“By any chance, have you seen a blue Twi’lek in any of the cells you passed?”

“We are the only prisoners in this place. There are none who come here, save for the tall one and the cold one, both of which you killed.”

Bly studies the girl, the way the strain in her features eases as she talks about target one and two’s death, the audible note of gratitude. 

“Tion gar gai?“

“What is yours?” 

The response to his simple question is instantaneous, her tone now biting and wary. He doesn’t react, only lets amusement tug at his mouth.

“Bly-”

 (“There is a name that Mandalorians use when they are disowned or cast out from their clan or family. Some chose this name as a way to seperate themselves on their own terms. Others have their names taken and are left with this.”

“Considering that Jango Fett doesn’t considering us real people let alone his ade, do we call ourselves this?”

A humorless laugh.

“You always were the one who never hesitated to go for the throat, Kote.”)

“-just Bly.”

“Arla.”

Not a familar name, even if there’s something about her face that reminds him of- reminds him.

“Let’s get out of here, okay, Arla?”

The barest hints of a smile as Bly hauls himself to his feets and then turns once he can speak without screaming or making any other noises of pain, and holds out his hand.

Arla hesitates to reach out, before glancing over to the bodies.

“Can I have the blaster if you have the vibroblade?”

“How about we see if there’s another vibroblade you can carry and I’ll take the blaster?”

______

A more thorough search of the bodies produces another vibroblade, a small holdout blaster (which Arla claims), a large blaster (which Bly claims) rations, two lights that work and a new set of clothes and armor for Bly.

He makes Arla turn around while he strips the corpse of the tall one, a.k.a. target one and pulls on the armor under suit, which helpfully compresses his ribs and then begins to strap on armor. 

“Were you conscious enough to see how many people there are in these caves?”

Arla’s voice is soft, but it carries well as she immediately goes into an information download.

“We came on a ship, just the three of us. There is no one else here. It’s supposed to be so secure that it doesn’t matter if you manage to escape, there’s no where else to go. Plus someone always comes to check every couple of days. Which is when, if they want you to live, you get food and water. This is where you get thrown when they want you to rot away and die in the dark.”

Bly hums, carefully clicking vambraces into place, pleasure briefly rising up in his chest at the decent fit. 

“And the war?”

Arla pauses.

“I haven’t- They kept most of the information away from me, but sometimes I managed to hear things. Like how Kry’tsad has a sky in Mand’alor Mereel’s camp and how they’re planning how to lead them into a trap and kill them all in such a way to send a message.”

Bly blinks, as he finishes up with tugging the last piece in place.

“Mand’alor Mereel?”

Arla makes an agreeing sound.

“Someone let slip they’re calling him Mand’alor the Reformer. Vizsla gets really angry when he hears that.”

Mand’alor Mereel.

Jastor Mereel?

On getting access to the holonet, one of the first things the Vod’e who were interested in Mandalorian history looked up was the state of leadership. Kote was certain that he wanted to see who decided that they weren’t citizens despite being from a Mandalorain. 

 Jaster Mereel was the father of Jango Fett, before he died on Korda 6 twenty something years ago!

Bly took a breath, before spitting out a curse in Twi’lek, follow up by a very vehement “Force osik!”

Arla didn’t say anything when Bly walked up behind her, only stared to stare, distaste clear in the disgust on her face.

“Needs must, ad’ika. I need to find someone and the easiest way off this haran place is on the Death Watch ship you came in one. Which”, Bly slid the helmet on, the HUB automatically pulling up and activating night vision. “Will be a thousand times easier which me pretending to be Kry’tsad.”

Again, he held out his hand.

“Ba'slanar.”

A smile, small, but undeniably there as clearly seen by the display screen in his buy’ce. 

Arla took his hand.

_________

The climb out of haran was nothing to sneeze at, but they made it. Upon exiting, Bly couldn’t help the noise of appreciation he made at the sun setting into the distance. Or rising. Either or. It wouldn’t matter in a few minutes as they would be leaving the planet, deserted and rocky as it was, it offered no appeal in water or wild growing plants.

The ship was there, ramp still down and Bly gently tugged Arla along, right into the ship and take that, General Skywalker!

Plan A, accomplished with only a minor deivation.

Minus the either confused youngling or the apparently very real possibility of time travel.

Aayla was still missing and Bly still had no idea if anyone else was missing or if it was him that was missing and not everyone else. For all he knew, this was something that only affected him and Aayla was completely fine.

Surrounded by the 327th and the 501st, plus droids. 

Bly quickly ran through each and every room in the ship, Arla right behind him, gripping her vibroblade, clearing each space before moving on to the next one.

Cargo, armory, kitchen, berths, cockpit and a decent sized corner with padded seats and tables. 

Bly also ran a lifesigns sweep from the main computer before he was satisfied. It wasn’t a large ship, but it could comfortably accommodate three to four people so it would be perfect for them.

He holstered the blaster and quickly ran through flight check before initiating the start up sequence.

Arla quickly strapped herself into the co-pilots chair, unable to contain the trains of excitement painting itself all over face.

Ramp up, engines fired, all systems green, Bly slowly poured power into the system and the ship lifted off this karking planet, landing gear folding up and away.

Before he turned around to launch into the atmosphere, he quickly toggled the weapons system, loaded up a missile and fired it without hesitation into the mouth of his former prison.

The resulting explosion of stone, dirt and fire would go a long way to ease nightmares for the next weeks.

Once they cleared the atmosphere, Bly carefully used the HUD to change all teh passwords, security settings and just generally switched out who the ship’s computer’s answered to before tugging it off and gently running a hand through his tangled hair.

“Well, ad’ika. I’ve no place to be, but frankly I could use a shower. How about you?”

Arla look up and smiled, eyes wet.

“Shower and food first. Then we find our people.”

The knot of worry in his chest eased somewhat at the assurance that now he was able to begin his efforts to find out if Aalya made it along with him and if any others did. 

“Her name is Aalya,” Bly says, longing heavy in his voice. “I don’t remember much, but if she’s out there, I’ll find her.”

Arla, stands, equal height with him before holding out her hand. She wait unti Bly takes it before speaking.

“Arla Fett. I’m looking for my brother Jango. He should be with Mand’alor Jaster Mereel and the Haat Mando’ade.”

_______________________

....so uh. When I sat down like............................five hours ago I did NOT mean to write chapter one of fic. I guess I did though so....eh. I’ll go polish it up and post it on ao3

[drreidfics]

Dr. Reid and the Broken Girl pt1.

DR. REID AND THE BROKEN GIRL (Working Title)

Characters : SpencerReid x FemReader

Warnings : Abuse, Hints of Self Harm.

CAUTION // TW // THIS BOOK DEALS WITH MATURE CONTENT SUCH AS PROFESSOR AND STUDENT RELATIONSHIP, SEXUAL ASSULT, SELF HARM, MENTAL ILLNESS AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE. IT ALSO INCLUDES A LOT OF RATED-R MATERIAL. IF THIS IS TRIGGERING OR MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE THEN PLEASE DON’T READ.

Here I am again, on the floor, begging him to stop. There he is again, laughing at my pleas and forcing himself inside of me. Almost every night he climbs into my bed, then in the morning, he pretends everything is normal. When anyone is around, he acts charming. He is able to trick everyone into thinking everything is fine. Well, it's not.

My phone buzzed to life at the side of me. The alarm was going off but I had been up for hours, staring at the flecks of dust dancing around the air. The sunlight streamed in through my thin, white drapes. It was beautiful out. It was the middle of May and bound to be hot out in Arizona. I could feel the warmth on my skin already. I needed to shower and get all this sticky sweat off my skin. It wasn't even mine. I felt disgusting. His touch lingered everywhere on me. The bruises he gave me stained my skin more than the self inflicted cuts.

'Morning Ms. y/l/n. Last night was lovely. See you at lunch?'. It was a text from Mr Reid. He was my psychology professor. Older than me, at thirty, he had long dark hair and deep brown eyes. His hair curled slightly at the end. He was tall and slim. Smart and nerdy, having two degrees and a doctorate, he left his job at the FBI for something less mentally draining. He had worked there since he was twenty-two.  I was twenty-one making our age gap quite small. Look at me, trying to convince myself that it even mattered. He was a lovely guy. Friendly, and handsome. He wouldn't fall in love with a student, and if he did, that student would never be me. He was too smart for that.

"Morning Dr. Reid. Thank-you for taking me. It was a fun eve! Yes, see you at lunch. We can have a chat about the stuff we saw yesterday =)". I read the message over and over again before hitting send. I was nervous as I usually always say stupid things. My low self esteem affected me very much. I was twenty-one, already with one degree and going back to do another. I was still living at Sharon's and I haven't had a boyfriend. He texted me back instantly.

"Can't wait! Need a lift to school? =)" I smiled down at my battered iPhone 6. I couldn't afford a brand new phone. I was lucky in that I only had to work a few hours a week at the local book store and that it was something I enjoyed doing. Sharon was good to me. She helped me pay for and make my way through college. I don't know what or where I would be without her. On the other hand, she brought the human spawn of the devil into my life.

"No thnx, Luna is picking me up =)" I sent but then instantly regretted it. I love my best friend but I would have preferred a ride with Dr. Reid. Our conversations were always interesting and insightful. We could talk about a wide range of subjects for hours and it would only feel like minutes passed.

"Ok, see u soon Y/N"

I smiled, almost forgetting my problems before catching glimpse of myself in the mirror. My fragile, battered body stared back. I sighed. He could never find a girl like me attractive. Not that it mattered anyway. Silly little girl crush.

After debating whether it was best to just find the nearest bridge in town and throw my self off or get ready for school (I am very mentally unwell), I decided on the latter. Luna had already texted me to inform me that she was about to set off. Knowing Luna, which I have had the pleasure of knowing for fifteen years (no sarcasm in there), ten minutes would be ten years.

I staggered down the dreaded stairs, almost losing my footing a few times, feeling light headed. I entered the brightly lit kitchen. It was so bright that I could feel an aching behind my eyes. The decor was simplistic, all white with gold features. Classic business mom who is never home asthetic going on.

       Sharon sat at the island, face absorbed in her laptop. She was in her late forties with short, mousey hair. I believe she would be referred to as a 'Karen'. She looked nothing like Dom. She was short, like me, and fairly slim. He was tall and muscular with broad shoulders. Quarterback star player with the strength to show for it. He could snap us both in half. Dominic is Sharon's only child. Yes, that is correct. She is not my mum. I lost her.

Sharon looked up at me, flashing me a warm smile, still bashing the keys to her MacBook. She took a sip of her black coffee, nibbling on some cold toast. "You look like shit" she stated; matter of factly, her face blank.   '"Thanks?'" I answered with a raised eyebrow. I walked over to the coffee machine and put in a pod, sticking my travel cup underneath. 77Kcals of goodness. All the fuel I will need this morning. "Sweetheart, don't act like that. You know I'm just saying. You need to sleep more" '"I know" I sighed. It was true... "But that makes two of us" I retorted cheekily with a grin.        "Oh sweetheart, don't I know it" she raised her cup as if toasting the comment before gulping the last bit of coffee.

Sharon was my guardian, though not anymore as I was an adult and of drinking age. She still cared for me though as if I were her own. My mom died when I was seven and my dad had a breakdown. He couldn't cope. One day I came home from school and he was gone. He didn't say a word to anyone. He packed up his stuff and  left me. I hated him for a while. The anger within me burned to my core. After a while I felt sympathy. He didn't get the help that he needed. If he did then we both wouldn't be in this mess. We'd be happy - together. I doubt he would know how to contact me now.

Aunt Sharon took me in. She wasn't really my aunt, she was my mom's best friend. She was the only connection to my mother that I had left besides her wedding ring. She loved her dearly and I believe she loves me dearly too. It's not her fault she can't protect me. She works herself to death trying to help me live my dreams. Dom wasn't the child that she had always wanted. He is doing nothing with his life. That is something I will alway's respect of her, single mom raising her child and somebody else's.

I loved her, though she did have the tendency to dish out tough love which often was way - way too harsh. And she was always away leaving me with him. I knew that if I'd only just tell her what he was capable of... What he would do to me when she left... She'd have murdered him herself with her bare hands. But it would kill her. I couldn't do that to her. He was the only thing she had who was blood. Me, I had no-one.

"shit! Is that the time? I'm going to be late. I gotta go, honey. Say bye to Dom for me." she pleaded as she stuffed the last slice of toast in her mouth and gathered her briefcase and her keys. " ...And make sure you have something to eat. You're wasting away!"                                   "Have a good day at work Shaz" I shouted after her. I doubt that she heard me. She was out the door in seconds, jangling her keys and fighting between speaking with me and the ringtone on her work mobile. I heard her professional, scripted 'Hello, Sharon Cormack speaking' as the door slammed behind her.

I made my way through the spotless kitchen Gina, Sharon's housekeeper, always did a good job. I grabbed a bottle of water out of the integrated refrigerator. I also grabbed my iced latte from the coffee machine. It was almost half eight. My first classes start at nine and Luna still wasn't anywhere in sight. I scrambled through my purse for my phone, ready to give her a piece of my mind. That girl would be late to her own funeral.

"You're up early" a voice from behind me sneered. It took all my might to not to curl up in a ball, trembling.

"I... I have school"

No reply. I felt him creeping up behind me, felt his breath against my neck.

"I can think of something much better to do with the day baby"  he whispered as he planted acid kisses on my neck. It burned. I squeezed my eyes shut, putting my hands up defensively. He pushed my back into the counter. A sharp pain ran though me.

"Please stop. I have to go" I whispered as his hand snaked its way up my neck, fist knotting tightly in my hair.

'"Why do you think a whore like you has the right to tell me what to do, hm?"

'- Hello? Katy?'  Luna's smooth voice called out in sing song.

Oh, thank god for her and her timing. He released me from his grasp and increased the distance between us. His eyes were clouded. I could tell he was pissed. I brushed passed him, running towards Luna, who was standing by the open door. I ran straight into her arms hugging her tightly.

"I thought you'd never show." I whispered. She rested her chin on my shoulder, stroking my hair. I could tell that she was staring daggers at Dom and I could tell he didn't care. Like I said, the same routine. Every morning.

By the time lunch rolled around I had had enough. had gotten into a lot of trouble with Ms. Hallows over an overdue assignment and I had spilt water all down the front of my jeans. It looked like I had pissed myself. My saving grace is that they were dark jeans and so it wasn't too noticable. That didn't stop Georgie from laughing and calling me pissy pants for half the day.

Georgie was the kind of girl that you would avoid in high school. Everybody wanted to be her but everyone hated her so bad. She had golden brunette locks, a slim face and a petite nose. Her friends Nova and Ari were just as bad. Everyone used to tell you that when you left high school things would be different. I am sorry to inform you that they don't. Bullies stay bullies forever.

I forced my way through the groups of students, crowded together in the corridors. The last thing I wanted was to be late for my chat with Mr. Reid

"Y/N" I heard Luna calling after me. I could tell that she was chasing me through the crowd of students.  "Y/N. Look, Y/N stop." I rolled my eyes.

"What?" I snapped. I could see the hurt in her eyes. She leaned on the wall, panting. I sighed. "I'm sorry. What's wrong?" I asked. I felt bad for snapping at her. All she wanted was answers, like anyone would have after walking in on what she did. But I don't give answers. I shut down. I don't tell anyone anything. She tried talking once we got in the car. I ignored her and I ran once we'd arrived at school. She didn't even need to speak. I could just tell what she wanted to talk about from the look on her face. I sighed again.

"Luna, I can't talk about this right now."  I saw the hurt in her eyes. If I kept pushing her away then eventually she wouldn't fight to stay. 'Good', a small voice whispered in my head. Maybe that would be for the best. She deserves better. Everyone does. I could just end my life today and nobody would care. I used to fight hard against the suicidal ideations that entered my mind but now I didn't see the point.

"I have my meeting and I can't be late. Taco Bell after classes?" I asked. To my relief, she smiled and nodded, that beautiful smile that I loved so much. She was so easy to please. I smiled and walked away towards room 1980. Dr. Reid's office.

"I love you!" she shouted after me smiling.

"I love you more!"

"Lesbians" Georgie mocked. She was stood near the bathrooms. I rolled my eyes.

"Grow up"

Luna was gay but we weren't together. We had been intimate a few times but nothing had come of it. But so what if it had? We both agreed it felt weird as we had known each other as friends for so long. We didn't want to ruin anything. Luna and I had been friends ever since she opened up my juice box for me in kindergarten and then hit the girl who had stolen my straw. We had been inseparable ever since. She's been with me through thick and thin. I'd hate to think where I'd have been if she hadn't been there when my mom had died. We are and will alway's be the best of friends. In another life I could see us growing old together, adopting puppies and children but sometimes, it doesn't work out. And if you love someone, you have to let them go.

I opened the door to 1980 and as soon as I did my heart fluttered in my chest. There he was, as beautiful as ever. He looked up from the book he was reading, glasses perched on his nose and smiled, he seemed glad to see me.

"Sweetie!" he said, a smile spreading across his gorgeous lips. He's the only person who calls me that.

"Dr. Reid"  I smiled back. My smile was huge and I probably looked so dorky but I don't care. My day just got brighter. I pulled up a chair next to him and kicked my feet up onto his lap. He rested his hand on my calf.

"So what did you think to the book?"

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Call of the Wild Woman

Just some fluff featuring the green-haired goddess of NXT. 

Pairing: Shotzi Blackheart x OFC

Word count: 2,412

Content advisory: brief sexual references, language

The first time I met Shotzi, I instantly liked her. We shook hands and she gave me this smile that made me feel like I was having a great day, even though there hadn’t been anything exceptional about it to that point. I was a little overwhelmed with all the people I was meeting, trying to get a sense of their look, their personality, their character, but I knew from our introduction that I was going to remember her for years, even if I never saw her again. 

Of course, Shotzi’s a memorable person. Tall, tattooed, pierced and sporting that incredible acid green hair, it would be hard not to remember her. But I felt like I’d remember her vivacious eyes and confident smile just as much as the things that made her stand out from a mile away. My whole first day getting led around the performance center, I found my eyes drawn back to her whenever she appeared. 

I had just been moved to NXT to take over as their chief makeup artist. I’d been working on Raw for close to a year when the position opened up and I’d been so excited and nervous about whether I’d get the job that I felt as if I’d barely slept for two months. My boyfriend and I actually broke up while I was waiting to hear back and I hardly noticed. We’d been struggling since his work had moved him out of state, and things had just sort of ended like a wave washing over a sandcastle. I wasn’t bitter but I was lonely. And that, along with my desire to show that I could run a team in high pressure situations, meant that I threw myself headlong into the new job. I tried to keep some time to see friends but work seemed more rewarding. 

By the time I’d been there a few months, my circle of friends was largely made up of coworkers. There were always birthdays or barbecues or other things going on, and it was fun to be able to dish about work without having to explain a lot of background detail. I was enjoying myself. But, yeah, I was definitely lonely. 

I dropped a couple of hints here and there that I wouldn’t mind being fixed up with any single male friends and a couple of the women made suggestions. A couple of the men did too. But none of it went anywhere. I was too busy and too awkward to make a first move and if any of the suggested bachelors ever thought to check me out on social media, it never resulted in a phone call. 

Shotzi was always one of my favorite models. I loved transforming her from the natural beauty she was to the wild child who appeared on tv every week. And while we’d talk about work, she also had the greatest gifts as a storyteller, and the crazy stories to complement her skills. She’d been raised around bikers and conservative immigrants at the same time. She’d worked as a late night host for a horror movie tv broadcast before she became a wrestler. It was like she’d been born to perform and had found a way to do so while still being herself. 

I found myself sitting at home, always alone, watching the silly and shocking horror movies she’d recommend to me, or tracking down music by bands she’d mention or whose shirts she’d wear. When she’d worked on tv, she’d developed a loyal following of teenage boys and girls who used to do everything from message her begging her to go out with them to sending her love letters and poetry to showing up outside the station in the hopes of meeting her. It sounded both creepy and sad but I sympathized a little with her starry-eyed fans. She was a kind of dazzling whirlwind of a person and, indeed, I was dazzled by her. 

One day, I’d showed up at work after a particularly inauspicious Tinder date. The guy had picked me up for what was supposed to be coffee and a walk but had insisted that we stop by his friend’s place so he could get some pot. The three of us shared a joint and I assumed we were about to leave when another joint appeared. Being a lightweight, I declined but the two of them proceeded to smoke it themselves. Then the friend’s roommate came home from band practice. She pulled out her bong and that was getting passed around while she played us the hour-long piece of meandering prog that they’d created that day. All three of them seemed really entranced by what they could hear in the music, which I was pretty certain they were imagining. 

About an hour later, my date and his friend started playing video games. I quietly tried to suggest that we leave and at least grab that coffee because I was clinging to the hope that maybe the guy, who was way cuter than I’d counted on, might have some redeeming qualities. He assured me we could leave in a minute. He and his friend were completely absorbed in their game, while the roommate randomly started telling me about how her mother had given birth to her at a Grateful Dead concert in the eighties, after following the band on tour for years. She didn’t seem to care much if I responded and would focus entirely on her phone every minute she wasn’t speaking. 

Eventually, the roommate had begun to complain loudly that she was hungry and the guys agreed that we should order pizza. I handed over some money and advised them that I was a vegetarian, only to be surprised by a pizza that arrived looking like it had been fished out of a trash can, topped with pepperoni and cheese. I knew the place they’d ordered from and some quick math in my head made it clear that I had paid for basically all the pizza. They assured me that I could just pull the pepperoni off. 

I was about to leave but my date insisted that we could head out in a few minutes to find me something I might actually want to eat. He was cute enough that I‘d agreed to stay just a little longer. A few more guys showed up to buy pot. Then friends of the roommate‘s had shown up with beer and put the stereo on so loud I thought the ceiling might cave in. I ended up leaving at eleven without even saying goodbye. When I got home, I realized that I‘d lost my house keys and had to ask a neighbor to help me break into my apartment.

I told this story to my coworkers to a chorus of loud “nos'' and peals of laughter. Others shared some bad date stories but this one did seem pretty dire. Everyone commiserated and it did make me feel better, like the night hadn’t been a total washout because I had a good story to tell and, as a couple of the girls pointed out, dates I had in the future were likely to seem pretty good in comparison. 

“You should have taken some of the pot!” Shotzi exclaimed to a round of agreement. 

“I wish I’d thought of that.”

It was a few days later that I was prepping Shotzi’s makeup and I noticed that she was a bit quieter than usual. She wasn’t unfriendly but there was something off. 

“You ok?” I asked quietly, sweeping my brush out to give her the perfect cat’s eye flip. 

“Yeah, I’m great.”

She didn’t sound great, or at least not in the enthusiastic way she usually did. I felt my neck getting tense as I tried to lead the conversation for the first time, knowing I wasn’t nearly as good at it as she was. I didn’t want to push her to tell me what was on her mind and at the same time, I felt like my forced smalltalk was probably grating on her nerves. I wanted to be entertaining but I lacked the stories and the flair. 

Finally, when I announced that I was finished, she stood up just a few inches from me. I expected her to tell me to wish her luck, which I always did, but she didn’t move, her bright eyes focused on mine. 

“Do you want to go out some time this weekend?” She asked. 

“Like, hang out? Sure.”

She shook her head. “No. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, not knowing quite what to say. I fell back on the default. “Um, I don’t actually date women.”

“Oh.” She looked sad for the first time and a little surprised. “I’m sorry, I read some singles wrong. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“Not at all. I mean, it’s no big deal. I just… you’re gorgeous. I’m just not…”

“It’s fine,” she insisted, extending a hand as if to pat my arm but withdrawing it before she did. “Please, forget I ever said anything.”

Of course, I couldn’t forget that. In fact, I couldn’t even get it out of my head. I’d always dated men. I’d known women who were bisexual and lesbian but none of them had ever expressed an interest in me and I hadn’t found myself attracted to them. But Shotzi was attractive. She was stunning. And the more I thought about that first reaction I’d had to her, the more it seemed similar to the way I’d reacted to men I’d been involved with in the past. I just hadn’t noticed the similarity because she was a woman and I wasn’t into women. 

But maybe I was into one woman. 

She stayed friendly with me, although she didn’t linger as long in the makeup chair regaling me with tales of her rock ‘n’ roll childhood or films that had made her who she was. I hadn’t even realized that she had been lingering before. I just thought we’d been having great conversations. We had been having great conversations. Had I been sending the wrong signals?

I knew that I had marveled at how beautiful and unique she was. I’d gushed, really. But I’d been so floored by her that I felt like I had to let off some steam in the form of compliments or I’d never be able to focus on anything else. That didn’t change after the “asking me out” incident. The fact that I couldn’t release any of my thoughts made it harder to think about anything. I’d see her and I’d spend ten minutes feeling like kind of an idiot, then half an hour thinking about her chatoyant eyes, about the perfect heart shape of her face, or her full lips. 

It was a few weeks later that I caught myself staring at her from the safety of the shadows while she prepared to go out for a match. I’d often stared at her body and I figured that it was because she had the kind of body that every woman wanted to have: perfect curves, toned limbs, smooth skin… Looking at her in that moment, though, I wasn’t so sure about my motives. Was I wishing that I had those taut thighs or was I wishing that I knew what it felt like to drag my lips along them, to feel her shudder at the sensation of my breath on her sensitive flesh? 

Her match was thrilling, as her matches almost always were. She was whipping around the place looking completely out of control, although we all knew she wasn’t. The more danger she put herself in, the more she seemed to glow with internal electricity. It was no wonder that the company was already treating her like a star. You’d have to be dead not to get drawn in by her. But it occurred to me as I watched her that I was more drawn in than others. 

When I saw her come backstage, I retreated to my makeup room and counted down what felt like enough time to allow her to unwind, shower and change before I made my way over to the locker room. 

“Hi there,” I greeted her, a little shyly. 

She glanced up and gave me a big smile while she patted her hair dry. 

“Hey you.”

“So, if the offer is still open, I’d like to say yes.”

She arched her elegant brows and gave me a coy smile. “Now what offer would that be?”

“If you still want to, then, yes, I would like to go on a date with you.”

“Interesting,” she drawled. “What brought about this change of heart?”

“You did.”

She bats her eyes and points theatrically at her chest. “Moi?”

I couldn’t help but smile. The light in her eyes told me she was happy but she still wanted to make me work for it a little. Fair enough.

“Ever since I met you, I’ve found all these things- movies, music, all sorts of stuff- that I just never thought of checking out because I either didn’t know about them or because I just never thought I’d be into them. And the more I think about it, the more I think that I might have made a lot of decisions about what I like just because it was what I saw everyone else doing.”

“Well that’s cool, but I’m not a movie or a book.”

“No. You’re this incredibly cool, funny, exciting, sexy person who I love being around and who has me thinking about all sorts of things I hadn’t considered.”

“Ok. How would you feel about a midnight picnic at an old shack I found near the river?” She grinned. 

“Will you hold my hand if I get scared?”

“I promise.”

I gave a little laugh and stepped closer to her, cupping her cheek in one of my hands and marvelling at how perfectly it fit there. Unable to resist the temptation, I leaned in and pressed my lips softly against hers. And immediately, a delightful shiver ran through every part of my body. 

When we separated, she gave me an almost coquettish smile and laced her arm through mine, steering us out of the locker. 

“You know,” I mused, “you don’t seem really surprised by this.”

“I’m not,” she responded with a wink. “I knew you’d come around.”

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

Jealous of a Kitten

Author's Note:

Hey y'all! So I was b l o w n away by the response to my last Loki x Reader oneshot, so I thought I'd give writing for him another go! I've had this fic in my drafts since literally last year lmao. If you end up liking it, I'd love a like, reblog, or comment to let me know! And if anyone wants to request something for Loki or any other MCU characters, feel free to send me a message and let me know! As always big thanks to @twentytwohearts for their help reading and helping out with this fic!

Y/N POV:

“Good heavens mortal, haven’t you got anything else to occupy your time besides pestering me?” Loki grumbled affectionately from his place on the sofa. He was reclined comfortably on the couch, back pressed up to my front as he rested in between my bent legs. My hands were tangled within his inky black locks, fingers lazily scratching through his hair as I braided small sections. I grinned widely.  

“Nope!” I replied cheekily, ensuring to overexaggeratedly pop the “p” at the end. “Cap gave me the rest of the day off from training, so you’re blessed with my presence all day, snowball."

The prince sighed melodramatically as he turned a page in the book currently resting on his lap. 

“I wouldn’t exactly describe it as a blessing pet” he remarked dryly. His tone was nonchalant, but I could hear the small smile in his words despite his clear efforts to seem passive. 

“Oh please, we both know you love when I ‘annoy’ you." I rolled my eyes with a giggle. Loki merely hummed in response as he continued to read whatever tome had caught his attention this afternoon. Deciding to mess with him a bit, I removed my hands from his now-wavy tresses. 

“Or maybe not?” I pouted, feigning hurt and leaning my chest away from his body. He stilled slightly with his fingers paused mid page turn. His back tensed just a bit, and I could practically hear the cogs turning in his head as he tried to decipher whether or not I was serious. Though he only panicked a moment or two, it was enough to make me silently delight in having seemingly tricked the god of mischief. He huffed childishly, his hand grabbing mine quickly and placing it back on his head. 

My smile widened so far at his reaction I was almost fearful it may actually split my face in two. He didn't say anything, but was certain Loki could feel the satisfaction coming off of me in waves. Even though I'd known from the beginning, it was nice to be reminded just how content he was to be entangled with me for the moment. He could pretend all he wanted, but I knew something about the lanky god that most people didn't. 

He was a huge cuddle-bug. 

As stiff and regal as he presented himself most of the time, he never failed to make it known just how much he adored physical contact with me. I'd even go so far as to consider him touch-starved when we'd first met. I mean, it made sense. He was a prince and the only meaningful contact he'd probably experienced came from those that used to help him dress or bathe. The thought of him going for so long -- literally thousands of years -- without the affectionate touch of another living being made me genuinely teary. Once we'd established ourselves as a couple, he instantly became a constant presence at my side. It didn't matter the situation nor the company surrounding us, if he was in the same room as I was he would gravitate towards me. Whether it was a hand resting across the small of my back or fingers linked firmly through mine, he always found some way to initiate some kind of physical touch. I was more than thrilled at his open displays of affection -- even after months of time spent together I still felt the delicious ripples of electricity run through me each time his skin met mine. 

Moments like today's were rare. Days when neither of us had any obligations or work to be done, when we could just spend time with one another. Sweet, domestic slices of life when we could just cuddle close to one another and pretend for a moment that all the struggles of the world were gone. I sighed softly as we lapsed back into comfortable silence, both of us content to simply be in one another's presence. 

But, as always, no peaceful moments around here could last that long. 

Peter came bursting through the door, looking even more flustered than usual. Which, for him, was saying something. He was wearing his suit sans the mask, carrying a giant throw blanket, with his brown curls mussed wildly and eyes desperately searching the room. He spotted Loki and I fairly quickly. A brief look of relief passed over the young boy's features as he rushed over to where we laid.

"Hey guys, uhm I could use some help," he blurted breathlessly once he reached the couch. I chuckled, amused by the poor flustered teen. 

"You'll have to be more specific than that," Loki grumbled from his place between my legs. I didn't need to see his face to know exactly his expression. Clearly he was annoyed to have our peaceful moment interrupted, and I would bet money that he was scowling at Peter as a result. Frowning slightly, I pinched the back of his arm in reprimand. 

"OUCH," he exclaimed dramatically. His arm darted out of my reach, the other hand coming out to rub the sore spot childishly. "What on Earth was that for?"

"Leave him alone snowball, he clearly needs something," I scolded lightly. He huffed once more, settling back into my legs and turning his attention back to his book and grumbling inaudibly. I rolled my eyes. 

Peter's eyes went slightly wider as they darted between Loki and I. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the raven-haired Asgardian when he was actually behaving, and given Loki's current grumpy demeanor he seemed especially on-edge. I smiled brightly, hoping to ease his discomfort. 

"What's up Peter?"

His eyes darted back to mine suddenly, relief overtaking his face at the save.

"So I was just out, ya know like patrolling, and I was helping this old Italian lady. She was carrying all this stuff right -- and I obviously figured I would try to help -- but she didn't speak English. She was like kinda mad at first and she hit me a couple times, cause I think she thought I was trying to rob her, but eventually we got everything sorted and got all her stuff back to her super old car and --" Peter rambled, words slurring together with that inhuman speed that only teenagers could seem to muster. My brows furrowed in confusion and I lifted my hands up like a criminal surrendering. 

"Whoa WHOA Spiderling, take a breath man." I chuckled good-naturedly. The teen's face flushed slightly at my interruption. 

"Sorry. Right. Sorry." he mumbled. "Anyways, so I finally get all her stuff in her car, and she just leaned into me and patted my head. I was gonna swing away, but she handed me this and drove away." 

He gestured to the large blanket in his gloved hands. My brows furrowed. 

"Okayyyyy," I drawled, still confused as to the issue. "And you're mad she gave you an afghan because…?"

His eyes sparked with realization, mouth forming an 'O'. 

"Oh no, no that's not it. I mean that is pretty weird, like why would I need a blanket in the first place. Maybe she thought I looked cold or something, but --"

"Norns, child!" Loki interrupted. He shut his book with a snap, abruptly shifting positions on the couch so he was sitting upright. "Could you perhaps get to the point sometime this century?"

I slapped his arm disapprovingly -- he scowled at me, stubbornly scooting further from me in silent protest. I turned my attention back to Peter with a soft smile. I nodded at the red-faced teen, waving a hand in indication that he should continue. 

"Right. Sorry Mr. Loki. Uhm, so anyways, she gave me this and I don't exactly know what to do with it," he finished. He opened the chunky-knit blanket to reveal the smallest, fuzziest kitten I'd ever seen. The kitten was tiny, no bigger than my fist, fur matted and full of tufts of orange and white hair. As soon as Peter opened the blanket the small kitten blinked it's tiny eyes against the harsh light. Adorable high pitched squeaks came from the teeny cat, who was clearly displeased with the sudden disturbance to it's sleep.

I gasped, my heart practically melting at the sight. I stood suddenly, hands reaching out unconsciously and making grabby motions towards the adorable creature. Peter readily complied, gently transferring the mewling baby over to my awaiting grasp. I cradled the little cat delicately, blanket and all, against my chest and cooed soft, unintelligible words of affection. My hands instantly found a spot behind the kitten's ears and began scratching lightly. The kitten responded positively, nuzzling into my touch readily and purring loudly at the attention. My heart felt like it was positively melting at the sights, sounds, and feel of the small animal in my arms. 

"It's so cute," I gushed, though whether it was to myself or the guys I wasn't even sure. I finally managed to tear my gaze from the cat when I heard a quiet growl come from Loki's direction. 

He was in his same spot on the couch, but I could instantly tell he was annoyed, even without the little grumble. His posture was rigid, hands sitting atop his legs balled into fists, and eyes suddenly dark with anger. Only moments before his face had seemed soft, the sharp planes and angles relaxed as we'd sat together. Now his expression was stony -- the stern mask of irritation he so often wore back with a vengeance. I was momentarily distracted from the small creature in my arms. Twinges of worry and the impulse to comfort him planted low in my belly ran through me at the sight. 

"He is cute," Peter's voice interrupted, clearly oblivious to Loki's abrupt mood shift. "At least I think it's a he? Anyways I can't bring him home, May is allergic to cats and anyways I don't think they're allowed in my building. I was kind of hoping you could watch him for a while?"

"Absolutely n--"

"Of course!"

Loki's head snapped up towards mine as we spoke at the same time, his scowl deepening at my response. I furrowed my brows in confusion, slightly surprised at his aggressive reaction. Peter's eyes bounced from my face to Loki's -- the awkwardness radiating from him as he shifted from foot to foot. 

"Can you not just take it to a shelter or something of that nature?" Loki seethed, glaring at the poor teen. Peter was clearly flustered by the question -- red creeped up his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. 

"Well, see, I tried that! I did, but they told me he's too young for them to take -- cause he's just a baby -- and they can't take him," he stuttered. "Plus, they said they've got too many animals right now, and if he doesn't get adopted soon then they might have to...you know…"

I gasped, instinctively tugging the now-sleeping kitten closer to my chest. Loki shrugged, nonplussed. 

"So?" he questioned. "That is what happens to unneeded animals on this realm, yes?"

My jaw dropped and I frowned disapprovingly at Loki. I knew he could still be, shall we say, difficult at times; though he was definitely on his way to being 'rehabilitated', old habits die hard and he often still struggled with concepts like compassion and kindness. Particularly when it came to anyone or anything that wasn't, well, me. Even still, how someone could look at the tiny creature in my arms without feeling the warm, protective emotions that I did baffled me. 

"We are NOT sending this poor baby to be killed!" I stage whispered the last part, glaring at Loki and cradling the kitten protectively against my chest. "Good lord Loki, just look at him!"

I held the small orange cat down slightly, revealing it's angelic sleeping face to the scowling god. He glanced at the kitten briefly before turning his attention back to me and quirking a brow. 

"I have." he stated plainly, voice laced with poorly concealed contempt. I scowled at him and stuck my tongue out childishly before turning back to Peter. 

"Ignore him Pete, of course we'll take care of him." I reassured the flustered teen. Peter's young face instantly flooded with relief and he mumbled a muffled 'thanks!' as he rushed back out of the room. 

Smiling and chuckling, I turned back towards the couch where Loki still sat. His facial expression remained annoyed and he'd crossed his arms tensely against his chest. I couldn't help but giggle outwardly at his pout; he looked like a child who's toy had been taken away. Though I found his pouty face adorable, I still found it slightly infuriating that it was over the innocent little bundle in my arms. My obvious amusement only caused his scowl to deepen and he scooched over further from me as I sat in my previous spot on the plush couch. 

"Somebody's a bit crabby," I stage whispered to the still sleeping kitten. Loki scoffed. 

"I am not 'crabby' pet," he grumbled. "I simply don't understand your fascination with this little creature.”

I chuckled, the noise hollow and closer to a scoff than anything. I rolled my eyes before turning my attention back to the small kitten in my arms. He began to stir lightly, stretching out his tiny limbs and squeaking out the most adorable yawn before turning his attention to Loki and I. His small eyes appraised the two of us with a kind of innocent curiosity. Eventually he deemed us safe enough, and he began to slowly venture out from the confines of his blanket. As he tentatively explored my lap and the small section of couch that separated Loki and I, I felt my face split into a wide smile. Warm, happy feelings blossomed in my chest at the sight of the curious creature. 

"What's your name gonna be, huh?" I cooed to the small, exploring cat. "Are you a Tom or more of a Finn hmmm?"

Loki rolled his eyes, face never leaving his book. 

"How about blot?" he suggested plainly. His tone was even, controlled, and even though his lips didn't quirk up even the slightest bit at his suggestion I was wholly suspicious instantly. Sending a frown his way, I replied quickly. 

"Dare I even ask what that means?" I quipped warily. His eyes flashed momentarily to my face as he shrugged. Even with the briefest glance I could see the tell-tale spark of mischief in his eyes. Rolling my own eyes in exasperation, I turned my attention back towards the small tabby and ran my fingers across his back. 

"Hmm, what else?" I pondered out loud. "How about Tigger? You look a lot like Tigger."

The tiny cat purred louder at my words, curling around my hand as I spoke. Encouraged, I scratched his fur a little harder. 

"You like that huh? Alright, Tigger it is!"

 A quiet scoff came from the other end of the couch. To my utter confusion, Loki was still radiating complete and total annoyance from his place across from me. He sat tensely in the opposite corner of the couch with his boots tucked petulantly beneath him and his body angled as far from mine as gravity would allow. His head was bowed down slightly, his attention seemingly directed back to his book. Despite his best efforts, I could tell that he was only idly paying any attention to the words on the page. Gone was the smooth look of contentment that had graced his beautiful features mere minutes before; his face was once more a cold veil of poorly concealed contempt as he feigned reading. The look, though common to the rest of the world, was troubling to me. It’d taken months, but I thought I’d broken through the raven-haired god’s stony exterior. The sudden return of the stern facial expression caused pangs of concern and sympathy to prod at me from within. I reached a hand out instinctively to grasp his hand in mine, determined to display my silent support. 

Despite his ‘silvertongue’ reputation, Loki often struggled to verbalize feelings of anything other than contempt, rage, or disgust. I’d learned quickly that often he didn’t need me to attempt to discuss anything he wasn’t ready for -- rather it seemed the best way to comfort him in these times was a physical show of my presence and affection. 

This time was no different, and though his head barely moved an inch I could instantly feel the way he calmed under my touch. The muscles in his hand immediately relaxed as he moved to twine his long fingers between mine. His tense expression softened, although only fractionally as he grasped my hand. He turned his attention from his book slowly, deep blue eyes turning to meet my worried gaze. 

"Hey, talk to me snowflake," I demanded softly. "What's going on?"

Loki opened his mouth to reply, but a small mewl cut him off before he could speak. I glanced down and giggled lightly at the sight of the small orange tabby beneath us. The tiny kitten had wandered down the couch and was currently sitting mere inches away from our intertwined hands with a curious look overtaking his small face. Evidently he wasn't quite pleased to have the attention taken from him so quickly, and he reached a paw out tentatively to hover above our hands. Eventually deciding it was safe, the small cat placed a paw over the tops of our hands, eyes darting between Loki and I with a kind of content curiosity that made my heart practically melt. 

Loki, quite obviously did not share these feelings, and withdrew his hand instantly. His face was once more overtaken by a deep scowl as he snapped his book shut and swiftly stood. He turned curtly and exited the room without another word. My eyes followed him as he left, brows furrowed with concern and confusion. Tigger, meanwhile, was clinging to my chest by his tiny claws, his heart beating with an insane speed. He was clearly scared by Loki's sudden moves and general demeanor, and I cooed soft words of comfort to the small creature. My eyes never left the door though, thoughts of interest and concern overtaking my mind as I wondered what exactly had gotten into my raven-haired companion today. 

A few days later

Loki's POV

Sweet giggles filled the halls of the tower as I walked towards Y/N's room. A small smile overtook my features as the sound filtered through my ears. Typically I found midgardians irritating and their laughter grating, but as was almost always the case, Y/N was an exception. Y/N simply radiated happiness at every turn, and over the past weeks the sound of her infectious laugh had become one of my favorite sounds. Her mere presence had the uncanny ability to both calm and excite me at once, and I'd grown progressively more fond of my time spent with her in a way that baffled me and those around us.

In fact, the past few days had proven increasingly difficult for just that reason. Y/N and I had spent less time together as of late -- a fact that saddened and irritated me in near equal parts. For the past few days I’d found myself yearning for more time with my dear mortal, having been separated by the rather irritating presence of a certain small animal. Ever since the young Spiderchild had thrust a stray cat into Y/N's care she had been wholly and utterly enamored with the useless pet. She doted on the feline, which she'd dubbed 'Tigger', and spent nearly all of her time either caring for, amusing, or simply fawning over it. 

It was becoming rather taxing. 

At first, once I had begrudgingly accepted that the cat wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, I'd attempted to simply ignore it and go about our time as usual. It was only a day or two before that notion was entirely dismissed. Each time I made such an attempt Tigger had made his presence unmistakably clear. The loathsome, needy thing seemed to share my desire to be near Y/N, and was constantly sitting on or pawing at her. And even the precious few moments in which it wasn't physically touching Y/N it took to mewling and crying until she gave in and picked it up. I hadn’t had a single moment with Y/N in which we were truly alone for days, and I was reaching my breaking point. 

As I finally reached Y/N’s room and entered, the smile that the sound of her laughter had put on my face immediately turned to a scowl. Inside the room was Y/N, beautiful as ever, sitting casually on her bed. The sight, which normally would have filled my stomach with a tiny stir of happiness, was marred with the unwelcomed addition of a certain small kitten. The wretched thing was sitting in between her legs, happily jumping and pawing at the toy she waved above him. She was looking over the stupid pet with such fondness in her eyes -- a look which I'd once thought was reserved only for me. Irritation overtook my senses at the sight, and I couldn’t help the scoff of annoyance that came from me. 

Y/N looked up at the sound, initial confusion turning to excitement as she realized my presence. My own feelings of resentment faded marginally at the sight of her beautiful features lighting up with a smile of genuine happiness at the sight of me. 

"Hiya Snowball!" she greeted me excitedly, rushing up from her place on her bed and striding up to where I stood. She tucked herself into the fold of my arms easily, her head resting comfortably against my chest and her arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I sighed lightly, my own arms winding around her relatively smaller frame and my face coming to rest against the top of her head.

"Hello my love," I murmured lightly into the crown of her head, placing a sweet kiss in my wake before burying my nose in the soft hairs there. She hummed softly in contentment, and we stayed in this position for some time. It could've been moments, minutes, hours -- I was never quite aware of the passing of time when I was with Y/N like this. I was wholly encased in the safe little bubble that only her presence seemed to create. I was surrounded by her: the unique scent wafting from her hair, the feel of her body melding against mine, and the soft thumping of her heart against my chest that provided the ideal background music for our calm moment together. I was completely entranced by our embrace, all feelings of irritation gone for the moment. 

But only for the moment. 

The sound of tiny cries and the feeling of a small body thumping and winding its way across our ankles broke through the peace we'd established like a freight engine. Y/N's chuckle vibrated low against my chest before she pulled herself out of my arms to peer down at the kitten. Annoyance seared through my body as she detangled herself from me and squatted down to scoop the needy thing into her arms. She stood up once more, cradling the spoiled little creature in her arms and scratching its face with her long slender fingers. 

"Someone wants a hug too, huh?" she cooed playfully to the cat. My frown deepened at her soft tone, the same tone she often spoke to me with -- the small, loving voice that had crooned to me during late nights or early morning moments spent wrapped in one another's embrace. The same tone that never ceased to comfort me or make me feel as if she was possibly the only person to truly love me. The sound that I treasured so dearly was now being directed to a lowly, disgusting animal. It sent a wave of rage through my entire being like a white hot flame. 

"Norns Y/N!" I snapped. "Can we not have a single moment without the presence of this...this animal?"

Her eyes widened as she took in my words, brows practically flying upwards in surprise and hands stilling against Tigger's face. Her wide eyes blinked a few times in complete shock as she surveyed my face carefully. 

"I'm sorry?" she questioned confusedly. I exhaled loudly in irritation, arms coming to rest across my chest in a display of my annoyance. 

"Does it not bother you that we've not spent a moment together, alone, since the creature was forced upon you?" I questioned, tone acidic and face a stone mask of anger. Her brow furrowed deeper in confusion briefly before a wave of understanding flooded her eyes. Expression softening, she set the kitten down lightly onto the floor before crossing the few steps required to reach me once more. Though her eyes held nothing but concern and understanding within the deep Y/E/C irises, her face had the tiniest hint of a smirk.

"Well I'd ask if it bothered you snowflake, but it seems that may be redundant at this point," she replied to my earlier question with ease. Her soft hands reached up towards me and wrapped easily around the back of my neck. Almost of their own accord, my own hands found the curve of her waist and held her firmly. In lieu of a response I simply scowled in her direction. She chuckled lightly, and propped herself up on her toes briefly to place a gentle kiss on my cheek before she led me over to her bed and motioned for me to sit. I complied, albeit somewhat begrudgingly, and she ensured we were settled against the head of the mattress before she spoke again. 

"Loki, are you...jealous of Tigger?" she questioned. Her tone was very matter-of-fact, but the ghost of a smirk still lingered on her face. I felt my face flood with heat, and though I'd like to blame the color on anger I was certain she could tell that I was embarrassed. Though she was largely correct, I was struck with the ridiculousness of the statement as I heard it tumble from her lips. Glancing away from her expectant gaze I mumbled out a response, though I wasn't entirely sure what it was. 

Her gentle fingers moved slightly around my head, delicately stroking the skin of my neck and face until her soft palms rested against the sides of my face. She applied the gentlest pressure to my cheek, forcing me to look her in the eyes once more. I reluctantly complied. 

"Because if you are," she continued. "I'm sure I'd have to tell you just how insane that is. Outside of the fact that Tigger is a cat and you are my not-so-human boyfriend, the idea that there's anyone or anything I'd want to spend time with more than you is just completely inaccurate. He's a baby, and he needs a lot of my attention that's all. Since you haven't been coming around much I just assumed you were busy with other things lately -- never once did it cross my mind that I was the reason I hadn't seen you much." 

I felt my furrowed brows relax slightly. Stupid and petty as my feelings may be, I couldn't deny that hearing such reassurances straight from the one person I truly cared for had taken away a considerable amount of unease from my mind. I exhaled a long breath and shifted unconsciously deeper into Y/N's hold.

"Regardless I'm truly, very sorry that I made you think I was choosing something else over you. I would never want to hurt you like that, or make you feel like you aren't the most important person in my life." 

Her worried gaze was still locked firmly on my face as she spoke. Though the majority of my chest was filled with a feeling of relief from her admission, there was a twinge of guilt lurking deep within my stomach. I often forgot just how caring and gentle Y/N could be and this may have been one such occasion. Of course she latched onto the feeble creature -- was that not what she did with me as well? It was simply a part of her nature to care for the weak or disadvantaged. 

I frowned once more as my mind reeled with the realization of my own selfishness. Y/N clearly mistook my expression however, and I could see the guilt in her eyes as she spoke up once more.

"I can ask Peter if there anyway he can watch him for a bit, maybe just give us some time alone. Or maybe --"

"No." I cut her off abruptly once again. Her brows furrowed in confusion, and she opened her mouth to reply. My own finger came up to her face fast as lightning to silence what would undoubtedly be more apologies. 

"Dearest, clearly the fault is not on your end in this case," I started, hoping to ease her mind. "We both know I often, shall we say, struggle with expressing my thoughts at times. Of course you wish to care for the kitten, just as you care for everything in your life. I was wrong to assume your affections were completely diverted and for not mentioning my feelings sooner. For both, I am truly sorry."

Her expression softened at my apologies, face relaxing under my hand as I spoke. She smiled a small grin of appreciation before thrusting herself forward and deeper into my arms. I let out a small 'oomf' at the force of her body attaching to mine, but regardless my arms wound their way around her frame and I cradled her to my chest. She sighed in contentment, and we stayed in this position for a few moments before I felt her chuckle against my body. I pulled my head back just enough to give her a questioning look. 

"I'm sorry," she giggled, face alight with mischief and glee. "Did the big, fearsome Loki just say he was sorry?"

However unintentionally I felt my face heat up once more, although this time it wasn't from anger. I rolled my eyes lightly before smirking down at Y/N's smiling face. 

"If I were you, I'd mark this day down in your memory, as it isn't likely to be said again anytime soon," came my dry response. 

I heard Y/N's melodious giggle from where her face was pressed against my body, sending delicious sparks of happiness across my frame. Outside of that, her only response to my statement was nuzzling deeper into my body -- a welcome action that I easily reciprocated. My eyelids closed as we settled ourselves into a comfortable silence, content to simply be in one another's presence. I hummed, utterly at peace with my current position, when I heard a tiny mewl from nearby. 

Opening just one eye, I saw a curious little face near mine. Tigger had evidently decided it was now safe enough to venture close to where Y/N and I laid. He was pawing hesitantly back and forth across my lap, eyes assessing me with tentative curiosity as he made tiny circles around my stomach. I chuckled at the feeling of his impossibly tiny paws kneading my lower belly as he settled into a lying position. Y/N opened her eyes at my amused chuckle and shot me a sheepish grin. 

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I can take him somewhere else. I think Peter's around, he'd probably watch him for a bit."

I shook my head, placing a small kiss to her forehead and placing a hand on Tigger's ears.

"It's alright love. I meant what I said when I was sorry -- he didn't do anything wrong, he simply wishes to be around you as much as possible. Obviously, that is a trait we both share, and I think I could expend a bit more energy in attempting to bond with Tigger." I answered genuinely. The kitten purred loudly in response, inching his body further up my chest until he was resting just beside Y/N's face. He closed his eyes sleepily, and curled into my body constantly as he slept. 

Y/N grinned widely, her lovely face alight with such genuine love and glee that I was taken aback at her beauty. She placed a sweet kiss to my lips in thanks before returning to her place on my chest. I closed my eyes once more, smile firmly in place as I lied quietly and revelled in the peaceful moment. 

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