#fuck man I did not need the mental comparisons tonight!!!!

[mochiwrites]

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[ssplague]

Chapter Four

Mature 

Masterlist

Warnings: A/B/O themes, soulmates, mating, sex, manipulation, power and control.

Oh how can one’s feelings

spin a tale so profound? 

For only true love shall

Determine whether darkness 

Or light shall abound?

You were now queen of an earthland kingdom, you were married to the Dragon King, a mere princess no more

                                                                                                          ✨          👑          ✨

“Gods for the millionth time, I’m fine! Why are you two so worried about this all of the sudden?!” Bakugou snapped, slouching further in his high backed chair.

It made him angry that he’d had to leave you like he did just to meet with these two old geezers! That combined with their repeat line of questioning had him growing increasingly furious. 

“Now more than ever are your draconian instincts going to need regulating Katsuki, you can’t run the risk of letting them get the better of you, if you get upset and do something irresponsible like shifting accidentally, your wife could be in real danger” Jeanist reminds the soon to be king. It was frustrating for a decorated general like himself having to tip toe around the truth. A surprise shift pales in comparison to what those “in the know” truly feared happening. Both himself and Aizawa had made a promise to Midnight that they would advise Bakugou to the best of their abilities in order to keep tragedy from befalling the Royal family once more. If they fail, then what would remain of the kingdom would forever be condemned to suffer, and surely the young King’s soul would be eternally damned.

“You’re sure she’s your true mate? What does your dragon feel about her? If we’re satisfied with its response then we’ll dismiss you for tonight” Aizawa offers, yawning loudly before focusing on the young monarch. Closing his eyes, it’s easy for Katsuki to call forth his dragon and it needs no prodding to talk about you; “I knew she was mine as soon as I laid eyes on her, her scent puts the most expensive perfumes to shame, I’m growing restless, what importance are these stupid human customs when it comes to claiming my mate? I want to kill anyone that looks at her with lust in their eyes, and crush the skull of anyone harboring perverse thoughts about my goddess, she’s mine and im going to make sure she knows it, 

y/n…my greatest treasure”.

“You harbor no ill will towards the lunarian princess? You do not despise the light that radiates from her pure heart?” Jeanist asks, studying the king’s form for any hint the dragon is thinking of uttering a false hood. “Dragon’s protect their mates, our love knows no bounds, our love is eternal, and unconditional…unlike you human’s” snarls the beast. “That’s good enough for now” Aizawa states, signaling for the king’s consciousness to return.

With a fierce display of teeth Bakugou returns, “There, are you geezers happy now?”.

“For now…but I think we should meet once more the morning of the wedding, and weekly after that” Aizawa says, looking at Jeanist for his approval. “I agree, just as a per caution-“ the finely dressed dressed man adds, only to be cut off by a furious snarl. 

“I’m getting real fucking sick of you two insinuating I’m some loose cannon that would bring harm to my woman!” The irate blonde shouts, banging his sparking fist on the table “Ever since I returned home and told you guys about her you’ve been acting weird, is there something going on that I don’t know about?!”.

Both of the older men give each other a side eye, which only proceeds to agitate the temper-mental man further. 

“For years I’ve respected you both for your knowledge and strength, that’s why you became my trusted advisors in the first place! That aside, I’ll tell you one last thing…” the dragon king gets to his feet, leaning forward on the sturdy oak table “If I find out either one of you has been keeping information from me, are aware of any conspiring, privy to any plot against my marriage or that could possibly bring harm to my wife…I will execute you myself…understand?”.

Crimson irises are alight with fury as they stare down the two men. Neither one of them display any emotion as they reply in unison;“Understood, your majesty”.

“Good, this meeting is fucking adjured…Tell the old hag I’m retiring for the evening” with that, the soon to be king storms out of the room, red cape billowing behind him.

Mate is safe, she’s here where she belongs, that’s all that matters…forget their words, the Thoughts and feelings of humans mean nothing when it comes to the bonding between dragons.

With a heavy sigh, Katsuki can’t help but agree.

The day before the wedding has you bombarded with last minute preparations non stop. You’d stood for nearly two hours as the capital’s best seamstress, accompanied by her assistant, took your measurements and quite literally crafted a dress (made from your ideal choice in fabrics) by magic. Naturally everything happening was seen under Queen Mitsuki’s watchful eye. Which allowed the two of you time to bond, the stories of her time as ruler had you looking at her with stars in your eyes. This woman was not to be trifled with; She was a warrior unlike any other, going as far as to ripping out the heart of an enemy general who had attempted to over throw her rule. You weren’t entirely sure how old she was, since it’s rude to ask (but dragons do live extremely long lives), she looked to be in her late twenties, and her mannerisms were every bit as youthful as her outward appearance.

“My son is lucky that the goddess has granted him such a perfect bride, and myself such a wonderful daughter” the older woman says as she marvels at your appearance in the finished wedding gown.

Examining yourself in every angle from the surrounding mirrors you can’t help but be delighted. You finally felt like you were coming into your own as a future queen, not just the daughter of the moon goddess.

As the day wound to a close you were finally dismissed from wedding preparations! Completely worn out, you couldn’t be happier to finally sit down for dinner. A table had been placed in your room to make things easier for the maids helping you get dressed tomorrow. A small spread of food rests atop it, along with four place settings for yourself and the three individuals you insisted dine with you.

“I don’t understand where Katsuki could have run off to, he’s been gone all day…I didn’t even get to see him off this morning, he left before I woke up” you glumly inform your new friends. Serro and Denki took Kirishima’s place in guarding you, as his majesty had apparently needed the bulky redhead for something. “You most likely won’t see him until the wedding your highness, he had plenty of his own preparations to see to” explains Serro. “You gotta tell us your secret on how you deal with him y/n, he’s been so weirdly calm ever since you came to stay” Denki states, tearing his bread roll in half.

“Well I hope to continue keeping the peace around here in the future, I’ll do my best….unfortunately I have no special secret, or method that I use on him” you reply with your usual polite smile in place.

“Not even your “womanly wiles”? Ow! I was joking Mina geez” the electric blonde cries, rubbing the knot on his head.

“Do you want to get executed? You idiot! You are talking to the new queen, if his majesty hears that kind of talk happening around her you are dead!” The pinkette scolds.

“I swear I won’t tell! We’re all friends here, right? No telling the king anything that won’t hurt him!” You exclaim nervously, “That was a hard hit you delivered Mina, how does a hand maiden know anything about hand to hand combat?”. The two men begin to snicker at your question, hiding behind their hands as the pinkette glares at them. “Actually y/n…I have a confession to make…I’m not a hand maiden, I’m the second in command of his majesty’s royal guard” Mina admits, giving you a bow and a wink.

“Wait…what?! Oh no! How rude of me to have been thinking you were my assistant this whole time! Oh goddess, what must you think of my ignorance” you fret, the other three watch you with amused smiles. “You didn’t treat me badly y/n! We’re friends remeber?” Mina asks, using your earlier words against you. “Yes, we are…we’re all friends! Regardless of station, you’re all my precious new friends” you say with a nod, dazzling smile back in place. The rest of the meal was uneventful, your guards tease you about tomorrow’s festivities until it’s time for you to turn in. The two males take their places outside your door, while Mina stays to brush out your hair. Once you bid her good night and get into bed you already know it’s pointless. Your mind and body are abuzz with excitement and anxiety, sleep won’t be coming so easily. Moonlight peeks in through the cracks in the curtains, you sit up noticing the soft glow growing brighter, the shadows shrink back as if they were being burned, the air in the room began to shimmer.

Without any warning a gorgeous woman materializes at the foot of your bed. Her long silver hair sparkles, her deep blue eyes twinkle, she wastes no time in coming to hold you close to her chest. “My sweet girl, so far from home…about to become Queen of this foreign land…my how you’ve grown up so much in such a short time” her voice is as beautiful as the sound of wind chimes in a summer breeze. “Are you proud of me? I’ve finally found my way” you ask, nuzzling into her embrace.

“I am always proud of you, that will never change” Selene responded, holding her princess tightly. 

“I wish you could have met Katsuki before the wedding, I know it all seemed so rushed but words can’t describe how he makes me feel…It’s just right, I know it is” your words are rushed as you try to get everything out in one breath. This makes the moon goddess chuckle, your bottom lip begins to poke out.

“What makes you think I haven’t met him, hm?”

The question hangs in the small space between the two of you.

She motions for you to scoot over and she brings her legs up to rest atop your bed. Her hand begins to caress the top of your head once you’ve gotten comfortable with it laying in her lap. “How? When?” You ask, blinking up at her in adorable confusion. “The first time was about a year ago…the last was around six months ago” Selene says thoughtfully, “Before you get angry at him for not telling you, I used my power and swore him to secrecy, he couldn’t have told you if he wanted to”.

Just as you open your mouth to protest, she cuts you off;

“That story can wait until another day, you need to rest, tomorrow is an exciting day, your mind needs to be focused on the present”.

“You’ll be here tomorrow? From the time I wake up?” You ask as your eyes begin to grow heavy.

“After you get dressed I’ll come to see you, but I want to be seated well before the ceremony begins so I don’t take away any attention from you, we’ll have time to talk afterwards, good night my love” as soon as her words reach your ears you fall asleep.

“Your majesty”

You’re suddenly roused from the most peaceful slumber you’ve had in ages. 

“Princess, it’s time to wake up”

“Mm awake…jus need a minute” you murmur groggily, yawning and rubbing your eyes. 

“We prepared a light breakfast for you your highness, it’s on the table” says a maid to your left.

“Would you mind if we applied some oils to your hair while you eat? That way once you finish, it will be ready to wash out before you get in the bath” says the maid to your right, who places a robe over your night gown.

“Whatever you guys need to do is fine, let me know however I can help make this easier on you” you replied, shuffling over to the table that had a single plate amongst a number of other items. Unwrapping the silk scarf from your hair both maids lightly brush out your strands and set to work applying the conditioning mixture. It doesn’t take long to finish your toast, handful of grapes and swig down the cup of tea that made up your breakfast.

The same two maids usher you into the bathroom and you’re immediately reminded of that first day with Mina and Momo. Only you aren’t nearly as shy when you allow these women to exfoliate your entire body and scrub all your cracks and crevices. It was during that time each of them gave you their names.

“You have such a lovely complexion, it’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before!” Hakagure croons as she and Tsu finish drying you off. “Is it true you come from the moon, princess?” The green dress the dark haired woman wears reminds you of a frog’s skin. Especially with the off putting way her tongue seems to peek from between her lips on occasion. “Yes, that’s where I was born…” you replied, hesitating to disclose any more private information to these two women. So you skirt around any further personal questions, just replying politely to mundane small talk as they got you ready. Mina stuck her head in to check on you a little while later, and immediately took over the task of styling your hair. Demoting Tsu to polishing your now sharpened nails as she did so. Momo entered shortly after that greeting you and giving congratulations before handing you a silk bag.

“Ooooh let me see!” Mina squeals as you examine the contents. Reaching in you grabbed out what appeared to be a scrap of lace, confusion had you looking further into the bag and upon further inspection your face burns with embarrassment.

“You‘ll change into them after the ceremony!” Ponytail assured you “Those things are for his majesty’s eyes only, so don’t feel embarrassed”. The pinkette snickers, waggling the hair brush at you, “I’ll help you put them on 

y/n don’t worry!”. The other two women laughed along with her while Momo berated them for such childish behavior. The memories of having the king pressed up against you the other night immediiiately came to mind.

“Treasure…”

Just remembering the way he sounded growling in your ear as he ground into you against the wall. It had a flush crawling up from the tips of your toes to the roots of your hair. “I need to tell you guys something…so I can ask some questions…and I hate how this will sound so commanding…” purposefully using the repeat pause between words to build up the nerve you needed, your eyes briefly close. When they reopen any flicker of insecurity or hesitation was absent, the e/c irises now sparkling with confidence,

“As your soon to be Queen I demand that any part of this conversation is not repeated outside of this room, is that clear?”.

A cheerful chorus of “Yes, your highness” comes from each of the women helping you get ready.

A relieved sigh allows you to relax against the high backed chair you occupy, “I’ve never had any sort of intimate encounter with anyone, let alone anyone of draconian descent sooooo…What exactly am I supposed to do? How will our um…how will he? Oh goddess you lot know what I mean right?!”. So much for the cool, calm, collected persona you’d channeled seconds ago.

MoMo clears her throat in attempt to hide her embarrassment, “Ahem, well my lady if I may, since you are looking for pointers on how to go about consummation-“

“Bite him!” Mina interrupted.

“Scratch and growl at him!” Hagakure exclaims.

“Stroke his ego” Tsu offers.

“Ladies please!” Momo shouts, the other three are still tittering with laughter as she clears her throat once more “Now as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, when it comes to consummation in our culture”.

Now that her mediative hour had concluded Midnight gets to her feet, stretching her limbs to combat the soreness from being stationary for so long. Extinguishing the incense she’d been burning, the dark haired woman moved across the room to push back the heavy drapes and throw open the large floor to ceiling windows. Inhaling a large breath of fresh air, she savored the taste of spring on her tongue. The oracle was optimistic, her cheery disposition had been favorable as of late. Eyeing the dark purple slip and black robes she planned to wear for the days festivities, she began to get ready.

Only for a sharp rap on her door to interrupt, her cheeks puff out in frustration as she hurried to answer it. The two men on the other side don’t wait to exchange pleasantries as she allows them entry.

“How did your talk with his majesty go?” 

The difference between the two men was always similar to that of night and day. Today however, it could be considered comical; With Jeanist in his perfectly pressed dark blue General dress robes adorned with shining silver metals, matching cuff links sparkling brilliantly. Standing tall beside Aizawa in his black Dress robes with a few obvious wrinkles but equally decorated with badges of honor, his tattered scarf ever present around his neck. The latter speaks first; “The king was more on edge than usual, I’d chalk that up to pre wedding jitters, the beast-“.

His companion is quick to take over the explanation, “The dragon gave the same answers as we reported the other night, I detected no treachery or malicious intent, to be honest it seemed preoccupied…possibly a bit bored”.

“So it’s thoughts were elsewhere? Where might that be, my lord?” asks Midnight from behind her changing stands, an airy chuckle reaching their ears. “I hardly think it’s up for discussion if there was no indication of hostility towards the Princess” Jeanist replied in a clipped tone, but professional as always. Stepping out in her new outfit, the oracle grabs a black ribbon off her vanity and moves towards the dark haired man. 

“Since you will be amongst the audience you’ll get a chance to see the two of them interact, we can rehash our individual thoughts after the ceremony concludes” Aizawa says with an annoyed huff as Midnight pulls his hair back, tying the ribbon around his messy locks.

“I agree with that, now which of you is escorting me?” Her violet eyes fluttering as she smiles at the men, even though she knows the answer.

Jeanist opens the door, gesturing for the Oracle and Advisor to go ahead of him. “Don’t forget to lock it!” The woman calls as she tosses a key towards the sharp dressed man. Heeding her request, Jeanist shakes his head as Midnight’s patronizing giggles echo down the hallway.

“Are you nervous?”

The question comes from one of the two older women sitting behind you. It was strange to see Selene and Mitsuki enjoying a cup of tea together in this setting.

Both beautiful in their own right, two powerful women, one a queen of this earth land kingdom, and the other a queen residing over the moon that oversees this blue planet from the heavens above. It was the moon goddess herself that had made an offhand suggestion that perhaps Mitsuki would be able to trace her lineage back to the warrior queen of Mars. They both chuckled at this, and watching their exchange you can’t help but wonder if there just might be truth to her claim.

Seeing them get along so well made you feel at ease.

“A little” you admit, examining your reflection in the mirror for the umpteenth time “But listening to your banter has made it easier to relax, you two seem more like old friends rather than two women who just met the morning of their children’s wedding”. Both women looked towards each other before looking back at you with smiles on their faces. Almost like they knew something you weren’t aware of.

“Maybe Goddess Selene will bless us mere mortals with her presence more often now that you’re here” Mitsuki’s voice had a slight teasing tone about it, and you could swear your mother had the slightest flush to her cheeks.

“Careful what you wish for, what if you were to grow tired of my constant intrusions? Then I’d have to give you twelve years of bad luck” Selene replies, as quick witted as ever, yet her tone held no malice.

“Mother!” You squeaked, shocked she would even joke about such a thing. The two older women laughed at your reaction. 

“Well I suppose I should go check in on Katsuki, I haven’t seen him yet today” the blonde woman says as she gets to her feet.

“You haven’t seen him at all?” You ask confused.

“That boy is a nightmare to deal with when he’s preparing for an important event, one could hardly blame me for preferring the company of two lovely celestial ladies over the company of my foul mouthed brat” she replies, patting you on the back as she walks past. Only to pause at the door and glance back at Selene, “I’ll meet you in the foyer in fourty-five minutes?” She asks.

Your mother nods and the two of them hold eye contact for a few seconds before the blonde woman leaves the two of you alone.

“How long have you known?” 

The question is sudden and quiet.

The goddess sighed before answering your question,

“After you fell asleep last night she came to your room and sought me out, I just found out”. You merely nod in response, now wasn’t the time to confront her about it.

“You look so beautiful, I’m happy that you followed your own path, I raised a perfect young woman” Selene comes to stand behind you, wrapping an arm around you.

The both of your reflections smiled in the mirror, “Oh no! I forgot to ask you-“ your sudden exclamation was hushed by your mother “I have it”. The shimmering piece of selenite appeared in your hand, it was crafted into a perfect crescent shape, a small gold hoop stuck through the top. “Thank you momma” you gushed happily “It’s perfect”. “I have one more thing to give you” she replied, moving towards your dresser. She brought back a small stone box with a large moon on the lid, ancient inscriptions were carved in on all sides proving its age. 

“This belonged to my great grandmother, and now it’s yours” 

The handsome (albeit grumpy) king readjusted the gold chain and fang necklaces around his neck for the umpteenth time. An annoyed growl rips from his throat as he takes the smaller few off. Looking back In the mirror he nods, now sporting only the largest golden chain and his newest piece made from the fangs of the ancient dragon he’d slayed recently. The Royal jeweler had just delivered it this morning, along with a few other pieces that Bakugou had also requested be made.

“Very impressive your majesty” Kirishima says with a flash of his own fanged smile. The red head and three other members of the king’s personal guard lean against the wall of Bakugou’s bedroom closest to the door. Just the five of them occupied the room, the servants that had tried assisting the temperamental Royal at getting ready had vacated the premises a long time ago.

“Looking a little nervous my king” Kaminari says offhandedly.

“Not getting cold feet are you?” Serro is quick to add, both men smirking at the king’s now obviously ruffled feathers.

Katsuki whirls around on them with clenched teeth and fire alight in his eyes, and just as he opens his mouth to begin a ferocious tirade, the bedroom door opens.

“You clean up well brat” Queen Mitsuki teases her son as she enters the room “Would you four give us a moment, it’s about time for you to take your places”.

A chorus of “Yes your majesty” comes from the four knights as they single file out of the room.

“Here it is, the day of my first and only son’s wedding…The day you will become king in more than just words, this land will be not just your’s to rule but your Queen’s as well” the blonde woman comes to stand before her son, “I know your father is proud of you, and I am just as proud of the man that you have become Katsuki”. The way his mother wraps her arms around him comes as a surprise to the king, he is still quick to return her hug just as tight, mumbling a soft “Love ya mom”. When the two of them separated the older woman dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, “Don’t you dare hold this against me, I’m probably going to be bawling more than once today”.

“Wouldn’t dream of it hag”

“So much for a sentimental moment between mother and son, you brat”.

“My lady, it’s time” the voice of a servant alerted you. Taking one last look at your reflection, the glittering tiara atop your head fills you with new confidence. The magic that flowed through your veins even seemed to be amplifying thanks to the treasured heirloom. You had to walk yourself down the aisle, which would mean that every eye will be focused solely on you. Remembering that you are a representation of the lunarian kingdom, you were sure to stand tall and proud, walking with the utmost grace. Exiting the open door, a beautiful burgundy rug has been laid out over the grass, leading down the sloping palace grounds, between the many rows of occupied seats. Excited whispers began as everyone turned to watch you walking down the aisle.

“Absolutely stunning!”

“Is she really from the moon?”

“How beautiful our new queen is!”

The compliments only made you more reassured in your self-confidence. You look towards where the rug ends, seeing steps leading up a raised platform and your heart skipped a beat. The Dragon King stands waiting for you in all his glory; His usual fur lined cape is draped over his shoulders, tribal ink snaking up his impressive biceps, that unintentionally flex as his arms are crossed in front of his chest. The golden chain around his neck glitters, drawing your attention to the second necklace he wore made up of black beads and large jagged teeth. Somehow you manage to keep yourself from hurrying forward. Each step you take is slow, and meaningful and once you finally reach the bottom step Katsuki reaches a hand out to you. Which you take and return his firm grip with a squeeze, allowing yourself to be led up the remaining few steps. He resembles something like a demigod, with the way his blonde hair shines in the sunlight, surrounding his head similar to the halo of an angel. Both of you smile as you take in the appearance of one another, quick to become lost in each other’s eyes. The priest clears his throat and it puts an end to the stupor you two were seemingly caught up in.

“Today marks a momentous event that will forever change history; A bridge between heaven and earth, the joining of celestial and terran, the blessed union between our Dragon King and the Lunarian princess” the elderly man says, pausing to allow the applause and cheering of the crowd. It was nice to see the few hundred or so people seated in chairs closest to the raised platform, but it was astounding to see all of the hundreds if not thousands of people, along with magical creatures, crowded in to the castle grounds. Those that didn’t fit were seated atop the heads of dragons, enabling them to watch the ceremony despite being behind the protective walls.

Turning your head away from the crowd, the squeeze of the grip on your hands has your eyes flitting upwards. Looking into Katsuki’s eyes was like being swept up in a harsh current. The priests words were immediately garbled nonsense, you were drowning in a sea of red. The veil over your face fluttered in the wind, and the king says something aloud. 

The smile he gives you has you feeling weak in the knees.

“Princess Y/n”

The sound of your title has you standing at attention, listening to the priest’s words intently;

“Do you take King Bakugou Katsuki as your husband? To have and hold through good times and bad? To stand beside him and rule this country to the best of your ability as a queen and wife?”.

“I do and I shall” you replied confidently, squeezing the large hands holding your own.

“Then by the power invested in me, witnessed by all that are here, I now pronounce you husband and wife” as soon as the words were said the veil was lifted from your face and Katsuki was kissing you. The kiss was deep and breath stealing, you could feel the desire and happiness in it. Cheers had broken out all around the courtyard, the roars and shouts echoing from all around the kingdom. Just as your lungs began to burn from lack of air did the kiss finally end.

“I now present your new King and Queen!” Announces the priest, holding his arms open as he declares this to the crowd.

The events that followed all happened in such a rapid procession, it felt like you were wrapped up in a sort of whirlwind.

You remember receiving hugs from both Mitsuki and your mother, but after that it was just a bunch of congratulations, well wishes, and handshakes from a variety of strangers. It was only once you were ushered back into your bedroom that you could take a moment to breathe. Sitting down on the soft bed everything had started to sink in; You were now queen of an earthland kingdom, you were married to the Dragon King, a mere princess no more. Speaking of which, you hadn’t gotten a single moment with your husband, the kiss at the altar was the only one you’d gotten thus far. He hadn’t said a word while you two were being bombarded by the gathering well wishers. You hadn’t even been able to give him your present…

Fishing the selenite out from your cleavage, you sighed. Without warning the door of the room burst open and in came Mina and Momo.

The latter holding three champagne flutes, while the former clutched a half empty bottle.

“Congratulations y/n!” The pinkette cheered, hugging you happily.

Kicking the door shut behind her, the dark haired woman strides over gracefully, offering you one of the flutes, “How about a toast before we help you get ready for your special night?”. “Ah yes! That would be lovely” you smile, taking the glass as you get to your feet.

“To our new queen, and beloved friend y/n! May your marriage be happy and the fires stemming from undying love as well as passion never extinguish!” Mina exclaims and the three of you clink glasses.

Laughter proceeds only after you’d each drained your respective glass, along with Momo giving Mina a hard time about her ridiculous toast.

True to her word, Mina had indeed helped you Into the garments from that silk bag.

You couldn’t bare the embarrassment as you peeked at your reflection in the full body mirror. The two women had made sure to bathe you throughly once again. “The king won’t react well to anyone else’s scents on you during your bonding” Momo had explained, as you gave her glove covered hands a strange look.

They rubbed you down with a slightly vanilla scented, shimmering body oil (Apparently it was close to your natural scent, according to Mina). Now you were standing in the middle of your room skin glittering, clad in what was essentially scraps of silk, with dragon scale accents that hid your nipples and pussy (barely). Just as you were downing another glass of champagne, the girls pulled a thin, floor length black cloak over your shoulders. Making sure it was secured before placing a cape over your shoulders. “A gift from the King” you had been told. The outside fabric was thick and white while the inside was a black velvet, and a black fur made up the collar. It was almost just like the one your husband always wore. Your helpers made sure everything was fastened to keep any of your unmentionables from slipping out.

Just as they both stood back to admire you, a loud knock could be heard on the door. “You’re all set! You look lovely your majesty” Momo smiles. “Remember everything I told you! Especially that last bit! Just relax It’s going to be great, no worries!” Mina reminds you cheerfully as the two of them accompany you out of the door.

Kirishima was standing there waiting to escort you with his usual smile in place, he offers you his arm. Taking hold of it, the knight begins to usher you down the hall, both ladies cheering until you rounded the corner. “You look very nice my lady” the red head compliments, keeping his eyes forward but still smiling all the same. “Thank you…” you appreciate the compliment but the nervousness you felt grew with each step forward.

Finally reaching the end of the hallway, its down a short staircase and the knight opens a door for you. Another exit from the castle you weren’t aware of. The breeze is gentle, and stars are beginning to twinkle in the twilight sky. You see your mother and Mitsuki talking to Katsuki, who immediately looks towards you as you walk across the grass. His intense gaze has your face heating up, and if both your mothers weren’t standing there he probably would have pounced on you. Once you come to stand beside the three of them your king takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it “Ready to go?”. The spot his lips touched sends tingles throughout your body, all you can do is nod in reply. “You two have fun” Mitsuki says while pulling you into a hug.

“Mother, I thought you and I-“

Selene interrupts you before giving a hug of her own, “Plenty of time for that when the two of you return, enjoy this special time with your husband”.

You don’t have time to argue due to the sudden appearance of a familiar red dragon waiting just a few feet away. Bakugou bids your mothers goodbye and scoops you up bridal style. He doesn’t set you down once the two of you are seated, you stay in his lap as Kirishima takes flight. Katsuki groans as takes in your scent, nipping and kissing the sensitive flesh “Been waiting for this moment all day, could hardly wait to get my hands on you”. One of his hands slips beneath the cloak to run up your bare legs. Your toes curl as he squeezes one of your thick thighs, he doesn’t miss a beat when engaging you in another passionate lip lock. Your fingers lightly caress his cheeks before running them down to his pecs.

Your tongue tangles with his when you finally feel yourself slicking up.

The wetness between your thighs reminds you that a thin string is the only thing there to catch any drips, and you’d rather not leave a wet spot on your new husband’s pant leg.

Breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead against his as you catch your breath. “My king…I’m sorry if I may not act like a proper lady tonight, I hope that come sunrise you won’t hold any of my actions against me” You say with a sigh, moving your head back to properly look him in the eye. A blonde brow is raised before a sinister smile appears on the king’s handsome face, “oho is that a challenge or a threat? my queen”. Your eyes catch sight of the slivers of sharp canines in his mouth, and your gaze lingers on them as you quietly reply, “It’s neither…I just don’t exactly feel like my usual self right now, not to say I’m someone else but my feelings are unfamiliar and overwhelming”.

Gently you reach for one of his hands and guide it towards your chest, laying it over your heart.

A sudden shyness comes over you, and looking up at him with innocent eyes you enquire, “Do you feel it?”.

Unbeknownst to you, Katsuki had been able to hear the pitter patter of your heart this entire time.

How adorable, it’s just like a bunny that’s been cornered by a hungry wolf

He can’t help but agree, his hold on you becomes impossibly tighter.

Eliminating any space between your bodies, he cradles the back of your head in a large palm. Guiding you to rest it in between his neck and shoulder. “S’normal to be nervous treasure, because after tonight you will be a different person” your king presses a kiss to your forehead “Just relax for now, it won’t be much longer until we arrive”. Something inside of you feels as though Katsuki’s voice has this underlying nefarious tone to it. An abrupt shiver shoots down your spine, in attempts to soak in the natural warmth that radiates off his skin you’re quickly wrapping your arms around your lover.

The wind is always a bit cooler at night, especially at this altitude. That explains where these continuous chills are coming from.

Right?

A/N: Something I didn’t call attention to at the end of last chapter; If you read the prophecy laid out in the prologue, and compare it to the version that Izuku reads during the flight in chapter 3 you’ll notice quite a big difference! Just to explain that in case anybody didn’t catch onto it; Only a few people in the kingdom were made aware of the complete prophecy that Midnight spoke of. There was a heavily censored version that was put out to the kingdom’s general public and it’s regarded in a celebratory way. So much so, the people turned it into a nursery rhyme song for children. This is because they remain ignorant to the other half of it. The version they know only speaks of the king finding love and that the kingdom will in turn be blessed and forever remain prosperous.I felt this was important for me to explain, just so nobody is thinking “This bitch is so dumb she can’t even remember words that she wrote three chapters prior 🙄”.I would hope none of you think that negatively of me 😅 It sure doesn’t seem that way but just Incase! ❤️‍🔥 So any thoughts or theories as to what’s going on or going to happen?

Thank you all for every like, share, comment and follow! 

Honorable mentions 💌

@lalachanya  @mrsmelaninhood 

@whatdidshesayyy @faemagic88

@viridianhero  @alishii @rv19 

@maggiecc @crazy-eight17 @nnubee @nemisimp @yesitsmewhataboutit 

[eunchancorner]

Ok this might be a bit out of the ordinary, but bear with me pls. Ler Bob and Lee Kevin. Hear me out! The candy teases and methods Bob could use

‘You taste sweeter than candy’ while nibbling

I guess this could take place where Bob isn’t a murderous cannibal?(This popped in my head and I found it cute I’m sorry)

Feel free to take this as a request if you want. If not, have a good day :D

BIG BRAIN- Oki oki so yea I saw this AU floating around where Bob is more like an uncle or babysitter to Skid and Pump so let’s just say this is that. And he’s also friends with Kevin (and, ofc, Streber) bc yes

Ler Bob, Lee Kevin (Also a bit of Ler Streber and Lee Bob)

Warning: A lot of cussing lmao

Word count: 1092

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Kevin stood from the couch with a slight groan as he heard a knock at the door, leaving the movie he had been watching playing in the background. He walked over to the door of his small apartment, opening it and being scooped into a big, warm hug before he knew what was happening.

Of course, it didn’t take much for him to understand. Him, Bob and Streber had been planning a movie night for some time now and tonight was the fateful night. The movies Kevin had been watching were far less realistic horror movies to help him prepare himself (he seemed to be the only one in this damn town who struggled with watching horror movies) and Streber had gone out to get more candy, knowing how much it’d be appreciated. Kevin would have been working but thankfully he had a day off today, so Streber had gone to the grocery store and wouldn’t be back for a while. And, of course, Bob had offered to make dinner for the night, stopping by the grocery store himself and picking up some steak on the way to Kevin’s place.

Bob had apparently decided to hug him before saying a single word, which was pretty typical for him. After the hug, he set Kevin back on his feet, a grocery bag dangling from his hand that no doubt contained their dinner for the night.

“Kevin, nice to see you again. Where’s your lil’ boyfriend?” he asked, his height allowing him to easily see over his friend and into the otherwise empty apartment.

“He’s out buying candy for us, since we figured with you around, we’d probably need more,” Kevin explained, stepping aside so Bob could come in.

“Aw, c’mon, I don’t eat that much candy!”

“Last year you ate me, Streber’s AND your candy!”

“Can ya blame me? You two weren’t gonna finish it anyway,” he argued as he put the steak in the fridge, before he sat down on the couch, Kevin sitting beside him. He snorted a little at the movie he had put on.

“Is this really what you’re watchin?” he asked, smirking a bit at the small blush he saw rising on his friend’s cheeks.

“Listen, horror movies aren’t my thing, so I’m trying to mentally prepare myself.”

“For what? Shitty CGI and the most fake-lookin props? Trust me, you’re gonna wanna try some real horror movies to steel yourself. This ain’t gonna cut it,” he told him, poking the much shorter man in the forehead. Kevin swatted his hand away, growling slightly.

“If I can’t prepare myself with bad horror movies, how am I gonna prepare at all?” he countered, both nervous and a little fed-up.

“What, you can’t take a little horror? Poor Kevin, are you gonna scream at a little monster?~” Bob teased his tiny (in comparison) friend, making him huff.

“No but… grrr, you’re such an ass,” he complained, attempting (without much success) to shove at the far taller man. Of course, a false offended gasp was the first sign to Kevin that he had fucked up.

“Did you just try to shove me?”

“W-waitwaitwait, Bob, I-I know what you’re thinking, but hear me out!” Kevin panicked, a small smile worming onto his face as he backed into the corner of his couch, already well aware of what his friend had in mind.

“One chance.”

Ok Kevin, don’t fuck this up. DON’T tell him he’s an ass AGAIN out loud. Don’t do it, don’t do it!

“You’re an ass.”

GODDAMMIT.

“Ohohoho, you just fucked up,” Bob stated as though Kevin didn’t already know, grabbing his arm and yanking him closer, pinning him to his chest before using his free hand to claw at his ribs, making the much smaller squeal.

“NAAHAHAHOHOHOHO BOHOHOB! LEHEMME GOHOHO! LEMME GO!” the small ravenette kicked and cackled, pounding his free hand into the chest that entrapped him on one side. He almost hated the way the warmth of his friend’s sweater made him wanna just melt and take it. But at the same time, it tickled so badly and he couldn’t help the instinct to squirm and kick.

“Aw, poor lil candy kid, can’t even take a few tickles?~” the much bigger ravenette teased softly, delighting in the flustered squeal Kevin let out. “Streber must love doin this~”

“SHUHUHUHUT!” said ‘candy kid’ demanded, slamming his hand into Bob’s stomach a little harder than he should have, enough to get him to stop with an “Oof!”

As it slowly loaded into Kevin’s mind what just happened, he looked up at his friend.

Oh fuck.

“Alright that’s fucken IT!”

Before he knew what was happening, the world was moving fast around him and suddenly he was staring at the ceiling, his shirt pulled up past his belly and a certain huge friend playfully nibbling at the exposed tum. He squealed and kicked and pushed at his friend’s head, cackles once again flowing from his lips at just how much it tickled, and Bob’s slight little beard and stupidly fluffy hair only made his situation worse!

“BAHAHAHAB! AHAHA I’M SAHAHAHAREEHEHEHEHE!! PLEHEHEHEASE!” he begged fruitlessly.

“Mmmm” Bob rumbled against his belly, making him squeal brightly yet again, “I might not need that candy, you’re even sweeter~”

“PLEHEHEHEASE!! IHIT TIHIHICKLES SOHOHO BAHAHAD!!”

“Promise to stop callin me an ass and then hurtin me?”

“YEHEHEHES! I PROHOHOHOMIHIHISE!!”

“You sure?~”

“BOHOHOHOHOB!!”

“Fine, fine,” the taller finally let up, laying the smol candy store worker on the couch and getting up to make dinner. Kevin tried his best to regain composure, wiping away tears of mirth, trying to quiet his giggles and will away blush, and letting the tingles in his belly subside. Only a few seconds after Bob left, he heard the door open and that familiar voice.

“Baby, I’m hooome! I got pl- uhh… Did Bob do this?” Streber asked as he saw what had become of his poor, ticklish boyfriend, who nodded tiredly.

“Of course he did. Stay here, guard this, I’ll be back in a few seconds!” he instructed him as he handed him the candy and kissed his forehead before he went into the kitchen.

“Bob! What have I told you about tickling my boyfriend!?” a falsely enraged yell came from the kitchen, one that definitely belonged to Kevin’s dear lover.

“What- wait- S-Streber, I’m cookin STREBER NOHOHO!!” Of course, Kev was never gonna warn Bob of exactly how much revenge he was gonna get. That was for him and him alone to find out.

Though it was fun to listen to.

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

Ah, beautiful bois. Also dw about Kevin, they ended up watching action comedies.

[semischarmed]

Temptation

-Wednesday- 

I love him so much. God I love him. And he’ll never know. Maybe it was a curse from a past life or something. To live like this, tantalizingly close to him but unable to act. I knew he didn’t see me that way, but that didn’t help any in my situation. 

Take today for instance, he just came back from the gym today soaked in the lingering smell of sweat. It was probably residual perspiration on the clothes he was carrying back or some other thing in his bag. Still. The smell. Goddamn. I could have died and gone to heaven on the spot. I tried to sneak a whiff of Connor, but all I could pick up was whatever soap and cologne he used. It was earthy, woodsy. Like cut cedar and fresh rain. It’s the Connor I always smelled, since he did always keep himself quite clean, and it’s a wonderful scent in its own right, forming the basis of my idea of Connor and the scent I associated with him. But damn. This paled in comparison to the hints of musk and workout sweat I could glean from his clothing. He reeked of pure man and it’s such a shame he covered that up. God I hope he doesn’t do laundry anytime soon.

He must have picked up on something, cause not a moment later I got a “Oh dude! I’m so sorry, this stuff probably reeks haha. I’ll get it washed up so it doesn’t stink up the place” he laughed politely. Fuck.

“Sure, you do you” I stated back, mentally cursing at his propensity for cleanliness.

You’d think the ROTC guys wouldn’t give two fucks about their smell but I guess Connor was an exception. Then again I don’t really know what they did, so maybe it was normal for them. In any case, he definitely did laundry tonight, and I definitely lost out on a good jack off.

-Friday-

So, weird thing happened last night. Connor looked tired as fuck, but he went out. The man must have been running on sheer willpower alone cause he had some kind of training day earlier today too. He collapsed in his room at like 8. Yet there he was an hour later- eyes bloodshot, hair tousled. Maybe he wanted to let loose or something? Still pretty weird. I mean, the guy was practically a saint. It’s odd enough that he went out for drinks, but even odder that he went out dressed like he did. Still I could definitely get used to a more experimental Connor. 

He was also a little looser when he came back. Gave me a pat on the shoulder and a wink. Something about “keeping the room safe” or something. I couldn’t concentrate enough to tell what he was actually rambling about. His breath was drenched in alcohol. I feel like I almost got drunk off the fumes alone when he spoke. No surprise when he had no recollection of any of it after he woke up from his nap. 

Total guilty pleasure, but the messy look was kind of hot on him. Never seen my friend so disheveled like this, he was always so prim and proper. It’s kind of nice to see him knocked down a few pegs. 

-Tuesday-

Connor let out a cute yawn before scratching his pits. He gave his scratching hand a quick sniff before settling into a satisfied smile. My dick jumped a little. I feigned ignorance when he regarded me, asking me if I saw that. “I… uh…no. Definitely not.” 

“Sure dude.” Now fully aware of my stare, Connor continued scratching at himself. “You’re seeing this now though, right?” He ran a hand over his stomach, gently feeling through his defined abs. I kept replaying the event in my head, drooling the delight I just witnessed and at a little daydream of me coming up to to feel this new side of Connor with him. In my daze, I barely noticed my roommate inching closer.

Plus, did he seem… bigger? Though I can’t say I’ve ever seen the guy without a shirt on so I guess I just never noticed. Regardless, this version of Connor was fucking hot. Looks like he’s got a tat too. Hot. 

“Baby if you’re gonna keep looking, you might as well have a taste.” He laughed warmly. I couldn’t believe what I just heard. In my stunned state, I couldn’t do anything beyond stare at him in disbelief as a vascular hand that seemed larger than it should be guided mine around his perky ass. God what a nice ass. I still recoiled out of the sheer absurdity in the situation. Try as I might, I couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea of this Connor. It’s like he was two different people. Well, I definitely liked this version of my friend more. I’m still drooling over what just happened.

“Another time, then,” he chuckled before walking to his room. 

Weird. Connor never really shut his door other than to sleep. Guess he was tired or something. 

-Thursday-

Well shit, I totally misread all of that. Today, I thought I saw that same glint of intrigue in his eyes and decided to risk it. Conner was just sitting in his boxers eating cereal and I was just standing there, a few feet behind. I couldn’t help it. My hand instinctively reached out and the cupped the outline of his ass. Perky. It was cute and compact and plump but definitely had a bit of muscle behind it. I regretted the action immediately. 

“…The fuck dude?” He gently whispered. It was more bewilderment than anything. Fuck. He was incredulous and I couldn’t blame him. Anger raged inside him, I could tell. But neither of us knew what to do in the situation. We stood there, staring at each other for what felt like hours before I relented.

In shame I could barely stammer out a shameful “s-sorry” before I slunk back to my room, bright red. 

I fucked up.

-Monday-

Okay. Scratch everything I just said. Connor is fucking with me. He’s got to be. He strode around the apartment half naked, humming a quiet tune to himself. Sure. Fine, I guess. Whatever. But as soon as he noticed me on the couch working on an essay, he walked over and gave me a hug from behind. Oh my god that hug. Connor was a lean dude, but I swear his muscles were fucking bulging, like they were barely contained in his skin. He wrapped those thick pythons over my shoulders and chest and I just about melted on the spot. I’m pretty sure I moaned a little too. Who wouldn’t? Wrapped in his warm embrace, surrounded by this man- I was his for that moment. I tensed up on the spot. I knew he didn’t swing that way, so I don’t know what he was trying but there was no way I would fall for what I could only assume was some kind of trap. 

He spoke in a tone laced in sex. It set me off in a way I didn’t expect. This was a side of Connor I’ve never seen, a tone of Connor I’ve never heard- an experience of Connor I’ve never had. It was a Connor I never knew I needed.

“I’ve seen the way you look at this body. You’re not very subtle.” In the faintest of whispers, he leaned in until his lips were barely touching my ear. My dick was already rock hard in anticipation- I was practically bursting at the seams and I’m sure he had a great view of it. “Just say the word and ‘Connor’ is yours”. 

With a control and a willpower I never had before, I refrained from kissing this boy- from putting myself all over him on the spot. I mentally cursed at my friend. ‘What the fuck are you playing at Connor?’ 

His hot, damp breath caressed my ear in its own embrace as I stood my ground, unmoving like stone. “Got to hand it to you, bro, you put up a really good fight. It’s okay. I love a good fight. Makes victory taste all the more sweeter.” The feel of Connor’s thick, defined fingers running through my hair and wet, slimy tongue across my cheek. He rolled his body forward, so the pulse through his abs would be felt across the back of my neck. From this spot, he was downright imposing. His guns went in for another caress- this time wrapping across my cheeks and around my chin.

“You know I love you bro… This body’s straight as an arrow. But it’s my body- I’ll go gay for you if you want”. What the fuck. Oh god I got a bit of his sweat on my cheek too. My eyes fluttered, body entrapped in a spell of my own hormones reacting to my friend’s advances.

Connor broke me. I shivered on the spot, leaned up to the man, moaned an “Oh fuck…Connor I-I need you. I-” before he cut me off. “Well bro, kind of looks like you still got some work today- you have fun with that.” He laughed coldly. He was fucking with me.

That whole exchange was really fucking weird, cause just a few hours later, it was back to pure awkward silence between us. Like a flip of a switch, the every energy he exuded around me could only be described as “uncomfortable”. I wanted to talk to him, to speak with him about earlier, to tell him I wanted him the same way. Something about those eyes read differently though. They read the same Connor I had been used to until recently. I decided to hold my tongue. Something about this situation wasn’t adding up.

Also I’m pretty sure this kid needs to see a doctor or something. I swear the guy doesn’t sleep- he’s out every night and then I see his tired ass drag himself to class every morning. Rushing a frat? Weird drugs? Could have been a host of things. 

-Tuesday-

Now 4 days since the incident last week. Thankfully he hasn’t brought it up- nor has he brought up whatever the fuck yesterday was. If it was even real. I sweat and stumble over my sentences in every conversation I make with him. I flash back to what he said to me. God, this was all too much. Every time I try to focus myself, focus on whatever he was talking to me about, I couldn’t help but think of the Connor that visited me yesterday night. 

Maybe, maybe it was just a hallucination. Maybe I dreamed it all up. I was working on an essay for hours. The whole encounter could have easily been a dream. He’s been going out every night too, so it’s not like he could have been speaking to me that coherently. Still. That didn’t make it any better. Whether or not he knew it, Connor was a demon in my life. 

I shamefully admit I totally jacked off to that little exchange from yesterday after he left. Grabbed some used Connor-scented garments off his hamper and exploded all over myself in a Connor-themed session. Nothing like the exquisite gym-soaked clothes from a week ago, but it was enough. It was still Connor. My eyes rolled up to the back of my head in pleasure as I took a breath, basking in the afterglow and the scent of forest and earth and faintest lingering musk of Connor in my nose. Connor was everything to me and, hallucination or not, I committed yesterday’s events to memory. 

-Still Tuesday-

Shitshitshit. Definitely not a dream. I caught the son of a bitch. In the dead of night, I caught him sneaking in from a dark corner of the room. Like a figure manifest from the shadows itself. He was holding some silver figurine in his hand, reciting some odd words, before he lunged at the sleeping Connor. He gave my roommate a quick sniff before scoffing. “Bro you have to stop cleaning all your nice smells away… With that the stranger pulled at the corners of Connor’s mouth. I watched as my roommate’s skin was forced to accommodate the man’s muscular calves. 

I watched as the stranger pulled Connor every further up himself. Damn, even in the dark I could tell the man was ripped. When his head finally slotted into where Connor’s skull would be, and Connor’s face was stretched being pulled, I saw the immediate change in my friend’s demeanor. This was the guy who’s been fucking with me recently. This was why Connor looked so buff lately. I couldn’t see the man who jumped inside my best friend, but I could never wipe that smug smile he wore through Connor’s face. 

The smell that originated from inside Connor, the same smell I experienced a week ago. God I loved that scent. It permeated throughout the room. Best friend concentrate. Like a humid, musky, grime that clung to the very air and decorated my nostrils. I never wanted his scent out of me again. I felt like I was inhaling Connor himself, regarding a newly discovered private part of my friend.

My stomach churned in a mix of anticipation and horror. Sweat beaded at my temples. Gotta admit, this was kind of hot. I had to figure out what I was gonna do about this. Self-preservation kicked in and I fled to my room, taking special attention to ensure I did not alert the man inside Connor. Not like he’d notice anyways- dude was feeling himself up almost immediately after he slipped inside. 

-Wednesday-

It’s like clockwork at this point. The “other” Connor came back early in the morning from a wild night out, before passing out on our couch as I was finally able to speak with my friend. Impossibly tired eyes looked back at me. He gave a weak grimace. “Must have passed out again….Uh.. can I help you man?” My heart sank. Could I really tell him this? My poor roommate. “No, uh.. do you want any breakfast?”.

I could tell he had meant to say yes. He motioned as much, before staring at my face and turning away. Fuck. He was definitely still put off by last week’s advance. I honestly don’t blame him. “N-no. I got it. Thanks.” 

I grimaced awkwardly before shrugging and walking to fix myself some breakfast. This would complicate things. And I couldn’t do that to Connor. I needed to find a way to fix this without him knowing. Evidently, his body being used and worn out like an evening jacket was taking its toll on him. Despite whatever we were going through, he was still my friend. And I couldn’t in good faith add more to that burden. 

“Hey, one of the guys from the gym’s coming over for dinner, that cool?” 

“Yeah man, I’ll just order some extra pizza,” I said back, sighing internally in relief at some semblance of normalcy.

-Still Wednesday -

I met Connor’s gym friend. To be honest, already forgot his name. He gave me a wink when he shook my hand and I couldn’t stop staring all dinner. I think even Connor picked up on it. He looked almost jealous with all the attention I usually gave him being directed at the stranger. The stranger asked to use the bathroom, and I wanted to let him know how to get to it, but he seemed to already know the path.

“Hey bro, is it cool if I stay the night?“ I nodded automatically, lost in deep thought.

There’s something peculiar about the Connor’s gym friend. And I didn’t notice it until I was already in bed. Then hit me like a brick. 

That fucking smirk. 

-End-

If anyone knows who this guy is, please let me know… for.. uh.. research purposes.

[whosjunglejim4322]

Best friends brother!Johnny

Warnings: voyeurism, jerking off, blonde johnny bc yes this is a fair and just warning, spitting, inexperienced (of age) reader, finger fucking, teary eyed orgasm

You know it's wrong, on so many levels. You should retreat back to the room, should leave him to do whatever it is he's doing. But it's as if he did it on purpose, cracking his door open after hearing your footsteps and rummaging downstairs as you fixed yourself a glass of water.

It had been closed when you passed previously, warm light illuminated underneath the door, from somewhere inside his room.

There's always been a...tension, for lack of better term, between the two of you for about two years now. It's incredibly hard to not seem so obvious around him, with his plush pink lips and tall, lithe frame. He'd purposely make eye contact with you during dinners or movies, just to watch you squirm and look away, cheeks hot.

Its not fair, he carries a tangible aura around him, the type that makes your belly warm and heat spread throughout your inner thighs. Maybe it's a crush, or simply just you, being irrationally attracted to a man who's pretty and definitely has big dick energy.

But still, you can't ignore the voice of reason that echoes in the back of your head as you fight the urge to sneak a peek, having heard soft, but purposeful expletives in a low voice that could only be his.

It's not even necessarily panick that you feel, inching closer and closer on the tips of your toes, your brain filled with vivid, fever inducing images of what he could possible be doing, even if it's already blatantly obvious.

A part of you wants to rationalize, but the other half has not even a hint of doubt that he's doing it on purpose, a cruel punishment of some sort.

Tonight he'd caught you staring a bit too hard, a bit too shamelessly. Your bestfriend and their parents were engrossed in a coversation after dinner, you and Johnny on opposite ends of the long grey couch.

He was wearing a black tee that fit snug around his biceps in an unmissable way, slim grey sweats on his bottom half that allowed his thick thighs, among other things, to be seen clear as day when he sat down.

As always, your gaze gravitated towards him like a magnet, pupils wide as you divulged in raking over his entire figure. From his tousled, and recently dyed golden hair, to his elegant yet sharp profile, and then lower. And lower. You were confident enough that everyone else was too distracted to notice, that he too was engrossed in the conversation being had.

But then you felt it, his eyes, burning holes into you. This time, when you met eachothers stare from where you were sat, something deranged and idiotic inside of you decided that you wouldn't look away this time, that if he wanted to play this game with you as he seemingly had been for the past couple years, that you'd play along too.

Something about it felt oddly safe, like, what? Your bestfriends older brother is going to rat you out and tell everyone that you're staring at him? Not likely.

So, you glanced from his lips and then back to his hooded eyes, something inside of him whirring at the small but obvious notion.

To your surprise, he was the first one to break. You had almost gasped, as if the whole time you'd been in a trance and forgotten where you were, who he really is. He cleared his throat, running his slim fingers through the front of his hair before standing, quickly.

"Feeling tired, gonna go to bed early."

He'd stated, politely yet in a manner that felt all too unusual in comparison to his usually steady, confident tone. No one else seemed to notice, but you definitely did. You felt stupid, staring at his broad back as he trotted to his room.

Once he was at the top of the staircase, you could have sworn he threw you a glance over his shoulder.

He didn't leave the room after that, and now here you are, being severely unhinged and deciding that it's a good idea to listen closely, and eagerly, to the pants coming from behind his door.

Maybe you're letting your fantasies get the best of you. What if he's not even doing that? As unpleasant as it is to think, what if all this time you've just been this hormonal mess around a person who is just existing as the sexy and somewhat flirty man that he is?

Afterall, he is effortless in nearly everything he does, it's not like it's hard for him to capture the attention of others. Maybe he's weirded out, what if it's all just in your hea-

"Fuuuck, Y/N."

Your eyes go wide, heart pounding so loudly you're almost scared he might hear it. You feel like every nerve in your body has been struck with a live wire.

There's no fucking way.

But then he moans again, louder this time, and you find your inhibitions almost completely disappearing as you saunter in the dark to a position where you can peek inside to get a clear look.

Nothing prepares you for the sight, not the thoughts your subconcious conjures up on nights where the need to relieve yourself becomes overwhelming.

He's so pretty, his head thrown back against his headboard, heart shaped lips parted and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You don't even pay attention to what he's doing yet, too focused on the way his adams apple bobs as he swallows, the shape of his jaw.

But it's impossible to ignore the way his bicep is flexing under his minisrations, leading your eyes south to where his large hand is gripping the base of his thick shaft.

Fuckfuckfuck.

He's big, the tip slightly darker than the rest, almost plum in hue. You can't take your eyes off of his long fingers, the way they're wrapped around his dick. You wonder how it would feel if it were you, jerking him off like this, being the source of his guttural groans.

It's just all so filthy, the sounds, the way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

You feel slick between your thighs, overwhelmed at the sight of his manhood that surpasses any and every expectation that your daydreams have created, deciding to watch his face again and tuck the memory of his lewd expressions into the back of your mind for later use.

But it's as if your heart stops, when you lift your gaze to see that he's already staring right at you, eyes lowly lidded and indescribably dark as he continues to jerk himself off.

It feels surreal, like maybe this is all a dream and you'll wake up soon and greet him in the kitchen during breakfast or something and all of this will just be another reason to be overwhelmingly nervous around him.

But it is real, in fact you're sure of it because that's his voice, clear and resonant calling your name, beckoning you with a lascivious, yet welcoming cadence.

"Come here."

Your feet move on their own accord, brain not yet in sync with your body, still trying to comprehend the fact that this is all really happening.

You know you look nervous, bewildered as you step into his room, a room you've seen and snuck into many times before with your bestfriend to steal vinyls from his collection. Except now, said bestfriends older brother is stroking his dick while you suddenly rethink being so overly confident earlier tonight.

You instinctively close the door, too worried about someone seeing despite the fact that your bestfriends room is on the other side of the house, his parents on the first floor.

You realize as soon as it clicks shut, that you've solidified it; whatever is about to happen. Though you're not as scared as you thought you'd be, more so fascinated and unbearably aroused as you approach him where he's sat on the bed.

He pats the space between his legs, just below his knees as to not make you apprehensive or nervous. You do so, eyes wide with curiosity and exhilaration. You fold your legs underneath yourself, heart hammering from behind your ribcage as you sit.

"You know," He begins lowly, hand still wrapped around his hard cock, stroking slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. As if this whole thing is as casual as eating dinner together. "It's rude to work me up so much and then not even say hello while you're spying on me."

Your cheeks burn, gut twisting with a mixture of arousal and embarassment. You look everywhere but his eyes, knowing they're on you, examining your every expression.

"I-I'm sorry I wasn't trying to spy, I just heard you and-"

He interrupts with an amused chortle, loving every minute of your shy fidgeting.

"And what? Just had to look, huh? I knew you would, always had eyes for me," He states in a manner that has your sex throbbing between your legs. "You were really bold tonight, I mean look how hard you made me baby, could barely stand it."

You can't resist peering up at him through your lashes now, his countenance hungry and full of desire; it almost has you whining, the source of your sexual frustration sitring right in front of you professing that you're the reason his dick is being fisted in his palm.

"I didn't even know that you thought of me like that, to be honest."

He chuckles, head cocking to the side ever so slightly.

"I do, I have for a while now, after I knew for sure that you felt the same way. You think you're so slick, staring at me like that."

His hand quickens in pace and you finally find some courage within yourself, his admittance leaving you slightly breathless but the comfort of his room and the quiet of the house allowing for an appropriate atmosphere.

As appropriate as this could be.

"Johnny, I want to touch you."

It almost comes out as a whisper, you can see him swallow.

"Go ahead baby, you can touch me."

Your fingertips trace the inside of his thighs before you hesitantly grasp his dick in your hands, disbelief clouding your senses at the realization of what's happening, and that it can't be taken back now. Not that you want it to.

You take mental notes of the moment, the softness of his golden skin, the slight stickiness of his precum and the curve of his length. It's so pretty upclose.

His own hand is suddenly wrapping around yours, dwarfing it completely as he shows you the pace he enjoys, the contact causing you to squeeze your thighs together.

"Just like that," He bites down on his plump bottom lip, a flutter of heat suddenly rushing between your legs. "Have you ever done this before?"

He removes his hand but keeps it close to yours, allowing you to work as you shake your head in a silent confession.

"Are you okay with this? Really?"

You both regard eachother with a shared gaze, the softness of his voice giving you more butterflies than you'd like to admit.

"Yes, yes I'm really okay with it."

At this you pick up the pace, twisting your hand in the same manner you saw him demonstrate earlier, taking pride in the groan that leaves his throat. You feel like you're on fire, but in a good way.

"Y-You moaned my name earlier." You state, free hand wandering over the thighs you've dreamt of riding, and over his agile hips. His skin is silky.

He hums in admittance, cock twitching.

"I was thinking about you, about this. I've been cumming to the thought of you more often recently."

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Your surprise must be written all over your face, his arm reaching out towards you, smooth knuckles caressing your sweltering cheek.

More often, as in, he's done it before. As in, you haven't been the only one fantisizing. It feels like your head is spinning.

"You're really so clueless, don't even realize how fuckin' horny you make me."

He bucks into your fist, your senses becoming overwhelmed. It's the arousal fogging your brain that finally leads you to speaking more than just a few words per sentence.

"I just wasn't sure, I spend more time than I'd like to admit thinking of all the things I want you to do to me, all the things I want to do to you," Your palm twists over his tip, his mouth slightly agape as he listens with rapt attention.

"Your dick is much prettier in person, you should feel how wet I am right now."

It feels as if you've just run a mile, out of breath. A bead of pearlescent precum cascades down his frenulum.

"Can I?" He asks, the strain in his rough voice evident. You nod eagerly, gasping as he suddenly reaches out and clasps his large hands just under your arms, to pull you onto his lap, sitting you on his thighs.

"Open your hand for me sweetheart."

You do as he asks, worked up beyond belief and even more so as he purses his lips and spits into your palm.

You're gripping him again as he cups your pussy through your leggings, middle finger tracing your slit through the thin material. It's a foreign feeling, having someone else touch you so intimately; you're not prepared for the surge of desire that washes over you.

He senses this in the way your wrist slows, rythym faltering just slightly. You pick it back up as he slips his hand past your waistband, the warmth of his digits against your slick folds all too much to bear.

You let out a soft mewl, and he slips his middle finger inside of your warm, welcoming walls, sucking in air through his teeth as your slick coats the digit.

He begins to thrust into you in time with the pace you stroke his cock, the sticky sounds of your wetness driving him more wild than it does when he's picturing it inside of his head.

The moment is so vivid, for both if you. His fingers are so much longer than your own, skilled and curling inside of you as his middle digit nudges your cervix. The pressure of him rubbing your sweet spot has you barely holding your eyes open.

"Feels good, sweetheart? You like when I finger fuck you?"

You're fully in it now, senses overtaken with a yearning, a need. You're already so gone yet irrevocably present, the depravity in his voice causing a knot of desire to swirl in the pit of your abdomen.

"Y-Yes I love your fingers J-John- oh!"

You hiccup your words as he adds another finger, his eyes glossed over with astonishment at how wet you are, coating his silver rings and soaking his palm.

"You love em' huh?" He uses his free hand to wrap around your throat, gently but firmly, forcing you to look down at him. The knot of his eyebrows and the parting of his lips is enough to have you twitching around him.

You're using your fist to fuck just his tip now, as you've noticed even despite the haze of your arousal how he's more sensitive there. You wonder if he's as close as you are, as he suddenly pulls you down to his parted lips, pressing your mouth to his.

This feeling is different, it's blissful in an agonizing way. Your body is tingling all over, the pleasure reaching a sweltering peak. He pulls back but doesn't move his lips from yours, delivering slow and sloppy pecks as he speaks.

"I want you to fucking cum, show me what you do when you touch your little pussy to the thought of me."

It feels like you might cry, the sob you let out never reaching past your lips as he places his palm over your mouth; fingers fiercely fucking you through your orgasm. You notice he's cumming too when spurts of warmth drip down your fingers.

Still, he's so focused on you, the way you're writhing. Nothing will ever compare to this.

"Shh shh, that's it baby let it go, fucuuuck-" he grits through his teeth, unbearbly handsome face blurry through the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.

Your thighs tremble atop his lap, his cock half hard and still in your hands. He slips his fingers from you and brings them to his mouth, tongue lapping at your release.

It has you twitching, underwear almost soaked through.

He finally removes his palm from your mouth just to kiss you again, sweetly and with a softness that gives you whiplash.

"I think I'm gonna steal you, from now on." He mumbles, after the two of you finally catch your breath. You can feel the corners of his mouth lift as you hum in agreement.

"Guess I'll have to stay the night more often." You reply, nibbling on his plump bottom lip. You can hardly believe any of this really just happened.

He grasps your jaw.

"Only if I can have you again for breakfast."

[wonderful-wells-writing]

Fanclub; Chapter 1

EoWells x Reader

Some of the STAR Labs employees have a secret fanclub where they discuss Harrison Wells and share pictures they take when they think he isn't looking. Problem is it's not quite as secret as they think it is. The man himself seems to have taken an interest in the the little group, finding it to be the perfect place to find willing partners to satisfy his needs. And you're his next pick.

Work is dying down for the evening at STAR Labs. Chemists are checking that all the storage units are set to the proper temperatures. Engineers are making sure that everything that needs to be powered down is. Lab techs are cleaning up their stations. But nearly everybody is discussing their plans for the weekend.

There is one worker who is not engaging in such conversations. You are currently crammed between two sections of machinery, determined to get this wiring finished before leaving for the day. That way, Monday, bright and early your team can start doing test runs.

You are not engaging in conversation with others but rather are talking to yourself as you work. “Some red over here, blue wire over there.” Your grin would light up the room if anybody could see it. “I just love when a color-coded array comes together.” There’s a buzz on your right butt-cheek, and you squeal in surprise.

“Everything alright in there?” One of the other scientists looks up from the desk.

“Yeah, Bri,” you extract yourself from the machine parts. “My phone just went off, and I thought something shocked me.”

“Girl, I can not tell you how often that happens to me,” Bri takes her purse from a drawer and a jacket off the chair. “So, what are your plans for the weekend. More number crunching?”

You pull your phone from your back pocket. “Actually my college roommate is having a bachelorette party tonight. So I said I would swing by the bar for a bit.”

“Sounds fun,” Bri gives a wave before heading to the door. “Don’t party too hard.”

She returns the wave before opening a group chat app on her phone to see what the notification is about.

KittyCat42; O.M.G did you see Dr. Wells today? a shirt THAT tight can not be workplace appropriate!!!

Attached is a photo taken from a smartphone at an angle in which the subject does not seem to be aware their picture is being taken. Dr. Harrison Wells is leaning over a desk, examining something on a monitor. Kitty is right; his shirt is very tight, his biceps bulge through the long black sleeves.

You grin, considering sending a reply, but another message comes in first.

YummyBitch73; Think he’s got plans? Looking that good, he’s got to be going out tonight.

Your thumbs move across the screen to type a quick response.

BabyDoll14; Maybe he has a date tonight?

KittyCat42; wonder who the lucky girl is?

You lean against a nearby workbench, smirking at the screen.

---

On the other side of the lab, somebody picks up their phone to check the barrage of notifications coming in. They chuckle before adding their own two cents.

Speedy22: Hey, who knows, it could be a lucky guy.

YummyBitch73: Oh you wish, he is a lady killer through and through

BabyDoll14: I mean, who are we to judge if it’s a lucky lady or gent. Maybe he swings one way, maybe he swings both ways. Who cares, we’re just here to talk about his ass behind his back.

“Speedy’ nods, almost respecting the woman on the other side of the screen for staying objective about objectifying her boss.

Speedy22: Speaking of ass, I got this one yesterday

He opens his gallery and scrolls until an ‘appropriate picture is found. A nice shot of Dr. Wells from behind; the quality is incredible for a smartphone shot. The man’s shirt is riding up, showing a nice strip of the skin of his back, even a bit of where his boxers rise above the waistband of his hands.

YummyBitch73: Damn Speedy, you always get the good ones. You’ll have to teach me some photography lessons sometime.

KittyCat42: what kind of camera are you using? The quality is so gooooood.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice draws his attention away from his device. “Are you staying late again tonight?”

Harrison Wells takes a breath to look her up and down, mentally running through his mind all the employees to try and remember who it is at his office door. “I’ll be headed out soon; I just have to wrap some things up.”

He recalls who she is when he sees the look she’s giving him. Brianna Masters, a specialist working down in Lab C. She would have had to go out of her way to get to his office before leaving. Self-proclaimed president of the Dr. Wells Fanclub, he had just been interacting with the group chat of; after the former president left with a job offer at Mercury Labs. She had been making goo-goo eyes at him since her interview three months ago.

“Well,” Bri twirls a curl of her hair, fluttering her eyelashes. “Harrison, you know I was wondering if you might like to take me out to get some drinks tonight?”

Dr. Wells tries to hide his displeasure at the thought. She wasn’t his type, physically, mentally, emotionally, “I have plans in the morning that require a clear head. Miss. Masters. Now is there anything of importance that you need?” The man was not adverse to flights of fancy to pass the time; he wouldn’t be keeping an eye on the little Fanclub of his if he wasn’t willing to look for ‘interested parties,’ but this particular woman has been of no real interest to him.

For reasons such as how she pouts at his response, “Well, having fun is important.” She mutters before wandering off down the hall, turning her attention to her phone.

YummyBitch73; holy Shit! He just asked me out for drinks. It sucks so much that I have to drive out to Coast City; I”d have taken him up in a heartbeat otherwise.

----

Back in Lab C, you finally finish with the maintenance on the machine. You check your phone once more while heading over to the desk and nearly cackle at what you’re reading. Everybody knows that Bri is full of shit, but there’s no point in calling it out and causing discourse.

You mute the phone to focus on your computer. While humming a quiet tune, you work on moving files to the USB stick plugged into the monitor.

“Fuck,” you whisper, seeing the download time in comparison to the clock on the screen. Of course, you could just leave it be, take the weekend off. It’s not like you get paid extra to run calculations at home.

17 minutes later

“Nonononono, wait, please!” You’re half running to the street as the bus pulls away, leaving you in the illuminated circle of a streetlamp, cursing yourself. That was going to be the last bus coming this way for the night. If you walk home, you’ll never make it in time to change for the party. You might not even make the event at all. You pace up and down the sidewalk, contemplating your options.

A car pulls up beside you, tinted window rolling down, “Need a lift?”

You stop, shocked, “Oh, no I…” you pause, looking through the window, “Dr. Wells, hi...hey.” You swallow your pride. “I would really love to get a ride on-with, with you.” Internally you cringe at how that came out, but figure he probably wouldn’t have heard such a minor slip.

The lock clicks open, and you reach for the door.

“Maple Apartments on South 11th street, right?” Harrison glances at you as you get in the car.

You pause before shutting the door, “do I want to know how you know that?”

He laughs, and you jump a bit at it, “I can see how that would sound a little suspicious.” His smile is reassuring, and his blue eyes are kind behind his glasses. “It was on your registration forms when you started. I enter new employee data myself. Total recall can be useful even for small matters.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, shutting the door and buckling in. “I really appreciate this Dr. Wells, I would have been so late tonight if I didn’t get home to change soon.”

“Bit plans tonight?” Harrison asks as he starts driving. Truth is he had suspected you’d be missing her bus. He had seen you running after the last bus or driven past you walking home numerous times out his way out. You had quite the habit of working until the absolute last moment.

You smile, twiddling your thumbs to keep your hands occupied. “Yeah, I’m meeting a friend at the new bar that opened down the street from my place. She’s getting married soon, and since I can’t make the wedding, I promised I would spend at least a couple hours at her bachelorette party.” You aren’t exactly sure why you’re volunteering this information to your boss. It would be inappropriate to be so casual with him; then again, it’s also inappropriate to be part of a Fanclub that secretly takes pictures of him and talks about how great his ass looks.

Harrison ‘hmms’ in thought. “Why can’t you make it to the wedding?” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, taking a moment to take in the way you sit, act, look, before returning his eyes to the road.

“Oh, they scheduled it for a Wednesday, so,” you look towards him just moments after he looks away. The first thing you notice is his hair; whenever you’ve seen him in the morning, it’s perfectly combed and straight, but it seems like as the day went on, it began to take on a life of its own. While the back is still nice and neat, the front is sticking out in all kinds of directions.

“You could have asked for the day off,” Dr. Wells offers, “Am I such a terrible boss that you think I”d deny you some vacation after all your hard work?”

You feel a heat rise to your cheeks at what seems to be a compliment to her work ethic, “Oh no, I don’t think that at all. It’s just that, well, we have so much work to do. Every day we get a little closer to your dreams of the particle accelerator, and I want to contribute absolutely everything I can to that dream.” You smile. “You’re going to do such incredible things for the world of science Dr. Wells, and I don’t want to waste any time that could be spent helping you.”

The man is somewhat stunned by this. He’d attributed her long hours and determination to personal ambition. “What about you? Do you want history to remember you for your achievements?”

You bite your lower lip in thought at the question, “I mean sure, it would be nice to be recognized for my contribution, but,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m more concerned about how my work will impact the world, not so much if I’m remembered for it. Anyways you’re the true genius. I can tell that STAR Labs will make big changes and put humanity on a path towards the future. As long as I get to be a part of that, it’s all I really need.”

Harrison does a low chuckle at your sentiment, amused by the naivety. You speak with such hope and wonder and admiration. If you knew the truth, how horrified would you be? The realization of the end goal of the particle accelerator, the effects across history that your determination would wreak.

He grins, “Well, I am glad to have such a dedicated employee, but I do believe that one off day is not going to hurt our progress.”

You purse your lips, “You don’t come down to Lab C very often; you’d be surprised how off the rails things can go when I’m not there. Anyways I would rather work than go to a wedding. It’s not my kind of scene.”

He can sense that you are holding something back but doesn’t press the issue any further. He’s reached your apartment building anyways.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be more than happy to give you the time off,” he says as he parks.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reach for the door handle, “oh, and thank you so much for the ride. I really owe you one.”

Dr. Wells makes a mental note about cashing in that favor later. “You just stay safe and enjoy yourself tonight.” He smiles warmly at you as you wave goodbye, but when the door shuts, his grin turns a bit darker. He watches you walk away, eyes tracing the curve of your figure, resting on the beautiful shape of your rear, right up until you disappear into your building.

As he begins to drive away, he catches sight of himself in the rearview mirror. There is something about this form of his that seems to drive the ladies crazy, and he wasn’t opposed to taking advantage of that. While pulling back into the street and driving away, he thinks on his situation.

For 13 years now, Eobard Thawne has been trapped in this god-forsaken time period. For a while, he had focused solely on his mission, rarely interacting with others unless it served a greater purpose. But he was still a man, subject to desire. At first, it was almost enough to make him regret allowing Harrison Well’s wife to die, she could have filled his needs easily. But that woman had been intelligent; she’d have discovered his identity eventually, so allowing her to die had been for the best.

Still, after a few years of isolation, Thawne had found the need unbearable and began seeing ways to fill the hole that was forming in his chest. Little flings, one-off nights where he indulged his carnal side, allowed himself the pleasure of another’s body before quickly parting ways with them, when he discovered that a fanclub devoted to him had been formed amongst his employees, that made the whole thing easier.

Joining the group chat under a false name was easy enough. It inflated his ego every time he read them discussing how great they thought he looked, and he was more than happy to provide material for them to gush over. And with that, it was like he had been given a list of women who would fuck him with no questions asked. All he had to do was choose. Of course, he has to be wary of those who might get too clingy or go off telling other people. But it’s not that hard to week those types out of the pack.

Thawne notices magenta neon as he’s driving. A club with a grand opening sign out front. He smiles, knowing that now not only does he have a new prey lure in, but the perfect hunting ground as well.

[expectingtofly]

What It Means to Love, 3k

established dean/cas, hurt/comfort, post 15x20, human!cas

day 2 of @thiscastielhasflown and i's follower celebration

prompt: hurt/comfort

“Dean, I am perfectly fine, I—” Cas paused, face scrunching up, then he sneezed before he could finish his sentence.

Dean took a step backwards. “Dude, gross! Seriously? Sneeze into your elbow. That’s like preschool 101.”

“Oh, then it’s so great that I went to preschool,” Cas said, managing to sound sarcastic even with his nose stuffed up. Dean winced as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his trenchcoat. “It’s not like I haven’t been a human for only three months.”

Right. “Yeah, well, guess this is the perfect introduction." How the hell did Cas manage to still look so adorable slumped against the kitchen counter, clothes wrinkled and nose red? “Welcome to humanity, you have a cold. Here, stop that.” He couldn't watch Cas wipe his nose on his sleeve again. They didn’t have tissues in the kitchen, but he grabbed a napkin and handed it to him. Dutifully, Cas took it and blew his nose. “What you need is to get in some comfier clothes, lay down, and get some sleep.”

Violating the few feet he'd put between them to stay clear of the germs, he stepped closer to loosen Cas' tie. Cas let him, saying, "I can still help research—"

"No, no." Cas leveled him with a glare, but it had lost its bite now that Dean knew he couldn't strike him dead with his angel grace. Okay, it was still pretty menacing. "I'm trying to save your ass. Sam will kill you if you sneeze on his laptop or precious books. Come on, take off the coat, you gotta be burning up."

He was helping Cas slip it off when Sam walked into the kitchen. “Ew, gross," he complained, covering his eyes with his hand, and Dean realized he was essentially undressing Cas in front of the kitchen island. "Get a room."

"Grow up," Dean said, draping Cas' coat and tie over his arm. Okay, so maybe they’d given Sam a reason to be on-guard now, but, "It's not what it looks like."

Sam lowered his hand, then frowned at Cas. "Woah. What happened to you?"

"I'm sick," Cas answered, as if that wasn't obvious enough by his glassy eyes and disheveled appearance.

"Well, uh, wash your hands," Sam said, stepping back as Cas started for the door, Dean following. "Don't wanna spread any germs. And try to stay out of the library."

"Told you," Dean whispered to Cas as they went down the hallway. In their room, he gestured for Cas to sit on the bed as he rummaged through their dresser. “T-shirt and sweatpants,” he said, handing them over.

Cas unbuttoned his white button-down which was identical to the dress shirts he always wore as an angel. Apparently old habits died hard—in this case, an affinity for business casual. Actually, maybe Cas getting sick and out of his old clothes was a good thing. Dean didn't know the last time the trenchcoat had been washed.

Collecting Cas' shirt and pants, he said, “I’ll get rid of these disease-ridden clothes.” He thought he caught Cas rolling his eyes as he pulled Dean’s sweatshirt over his head. "You watch TV or something, I’ll go see if we have cold medicine.”

After starting a load of laundry and raiding the medicine cabinets in the bathroom and cabinets in the kitchen, he returned to the room to find Cas sitting cross-legged under the covers of the bed, remote in his hands.

“Here, you go,” Dean said, handing over a warm mug. Ancient Aliens played on the TV; one of Cas' favorite pastimes was refuting every crazy claim and theory the show presented with his own recollections of the ancient times. “Sam said this tea will help. He ran out to get some medicine.”

Eagerly, Cas took the mug from him and took a large gulp, then coughed. "Ow. It's hot."

"Drink it slowly, idiot."

Cas took a more hesitant sip, then squinted up at him. "This tea is incredibly flavorless."

Dean snorted. "’Cause your nose’s clogged up. And you probably burned your tongue. Another joy of being human."

Groaning, Cas dropped his head back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. "Why is being human so difficult?"

Dean inwardly winced at that. Or thought he did so inwardly, but his expression must've revealed something because Cas glanced over at him, then straightened up, nearly spilling his tea. "Dean, I didn't mean anything by that."

Clearing his throat, Dean shrugged and sat down on the other side of the bed. "No, it's fine. You're right, being human sucks."

"And I wouldn't trade it for the world," Cas said.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Cas seemed about to say more, but then he sneezed. Into his elbow this time. Progress.

Ancient Aliens finished, and they got halfway through an episode of UFO Hunters before Cas started to nod off. Dean took the mug from him, and his eyes fluttered open, head jerking up. "I'm fine," he said.

"I know you're tired because you missed them saying aliens created the lost city of Atlantis."

Cas sniffled. "That's ridiculous. Everyone knows Atlantis was formed by—" He was interrupted by a yawn, and Dean made a mental note to return to that subject later.

“Come on, take a nap.”

“I am not a small child, Dean,” Cas protested, but he settled down anyway. Dean couldn’t resist adjusting the covers, essentially tucking him in. He wasn’t trying to baby him, but it was second nature seeing how miserable the guy looked. Turning off the lights, he went to the door. "You good? Need anything else?"

"No." Cas squinted one eye open to look at Dean over the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, and, fuck, if he wasn't still the most beautiful man Dean had ever seen, even sick as a dog. "Thank you."

A tiny alarm went off in Dean's brain about germs, but he returned to the bed to kiss Cas on the forehead anyway. True love, and all that. God, he was getting sappy in his old age.

Cas looked marginally better when he woke up from his nap. If marginally better meant pillow hair and pillow lines on his cheek. Well-rested, at least. He swallowed down the cold medicine Sam had brought home, complaining that he could taste enough to know the flavor was not, quote, "similar to anything occurring organically in nature."

"Whaddya wanna eat?" Dean asked him as he drained his glass of water. "And don't say PB and J," he added before Cas could speak.

Cas set his glass down on the nightstand and slid further down under the covers. "Anything that won't make my throat hurt more."

"My, uh, mom used to make me soup when I was sick."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Whatcha making?" Sam asked, coming into the kitchen. He lifted the lid of the pot on the stove and Dean snapped him with the towel.

"That's for Cas, back off."

"Wow," Sam said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "Look at you."

"Look at me what?" Setting aside the pot lid, he scraped the celery he'd been dicing from the cutting board into the pot.

Sam shrugged. "Taking care of Cas, making dinner, you're almost domestic."

Dean turned red and scrambled furiously for a comeback. "Yeah, and you're, you're still a little shit." Nailed it.

Sam laughed. "Wasn't an insult. Just meant, I don't know. Different for you, I guess."

Dean eyed him, stirring the soup. "Don't have much of a choice. Poor guy just turned human and he's already going through it."

"I think he's dealt with worse than a cold before."

"Yeah, well, wish he didn't have to deal with any of it." Any of it meant plenty. Between Dean’s own fuckups, world apocalypses, and near-death and actual death experiences, Cas had been through the ringer several times over. And now he was human—which, by all counts, wasn’t the worst thing he’d been through, but it wasn’t ideal. It’d been a rough transition, anyway.

Cas seemed better recently, though, since getting somewhat used to being human. And things were going well between them. Getting sick was just one tiny wrinkle compared to everything they’d been through, right?

He stared at the soup and startled when Sam straightened off the counter with a comment that Jack was out with friends, he was leaving for Eileen’s, have fun giving Cas a sponge bath. Dean flipped him off as he headed out the door.

When the soup was finished, he ladled a bowl full and returned to the bedroom. Cas looked up from his phone when Dean entered with the bowl of steaming soup. “Hear from Claire?” Dean asked, nudging the door shut with his foot.

“She says she and Kaia have almost closed up the case." He set his phone aside. “They’ll be able to visit soon.”

“You tell her you’re sick?”

“She was incredibly non-sympathetic—thank you." Cas took the bowl from him. “She seemed to find it amusing that I once ruled garrisons and now can’t go five minutes without sneezing.”

Dean tensed, hoping Cas wasn’t hurt by the comparison, but Cas didn’t look offended. “Sounds like her.”

"Yes.” He breathed in the steam coming from the bowl. “This smells incredible.”

"Family recipe," Dean joked, sitting down next to him. "Well, someone's family. Straight from some blog online. Think it's pretty close to what my mom would make." He watched Cas pick up his spoon, and added, "Don't tell Sam." He'd never hear the end of it if Sam knew he was reading mommy blogs.

"Your secret is safe with me."

Dean picked up the remote as Cas ate, wondering if he should give Claire a piece of his mind. Sure, Cas was pretty easy-going about the whole giving up his grace thing, but no need to rub it in his face. Becoming human had to feel pretty pitiful after ages of being an angel.

He was trying to make it better where he could, though. “You wanna watch a movie tonight? I'll let you pick because you're bedridden."

"I am not," Cas protested, though he looked more than a little pleased at the idea of getting to choose. Dean braced himself for whatever ridiculous romance or musical Cas insisted on watching now—to date, he'd been subjected to La La Land , the ending of which had reduced Cas to tears for the rest of the night; Pride and Prejudice, okay not too bad, though he'd never admit it; and You’ve Got Mail, dammit not bad enough for him to hate either.

Instead of suggesting a movie, though, Cas said, "You're very caring, Dean."

"Uh." Dean turned from cycling through the movie options on the TV to look at Cas. He felt himself turn red under the look Cas was giving him, head tilted, that fond almost-smile he got. "Yeah, uh. What I do."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "It is what you do. You're very good at taking care of others."

"Oh, God, don't start that." By that, he meant the long compliments Cas so shamelessly gave him now, like he'd been storing them up for a long time and was finally able to hand them out. It was like the dam had broken that night when Billie and the Empty—

But he didn't want to think about that. Not when all the events since that day had led to Cas now sitting in bed blowing his nose, the trashcan by the bed overflowing with tissues. Poor bastard; he'd gone through one whole Kleenex box already.

"I'm only going to stop because talking hurts too much," Cas told him, tossing a tissue at the trashcan and missing sorely. Dean grimaced.

They nearly got through Mama Mia before Cas dozed off, head resting on Dean’s shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable position and Dean’s arm was half-asleep, but he refused to move. The mere fact that they were sitting together in bed, pressed against each other, was still enough to send him into shock anytime he thought about it too much. Cas—a literal former angel—had fallen in love with him. It was almost too good to be true.

But Cas was currently slumped against him, drooling on his shoulder, so he guessed it really was true.

As the credits rolled, he turned off the TV and touched Cas’ forehead with the back of his hand. Not as warm as before. At his touch, Cas blinked awake.

“It’s over already?”

“Whaddya mean, already? I just had to sit through two hours of singing and dancing.” It hadn’t been that torturous, but he couldn’t admit that—he had a reputation to uphold. Straightening, Cas rolled his eyes. “Feel any better?"

Cas’ expression turned thoughtful, as if taking stock of every physical sensation in his body, and Dean had to grin at his seriousness. He nodded. "Yes."

"Great.” He glanced at the time on the clock and realized it was later than he’d expected. “You probably wanna get some rest.”

Cas nodded with a yawn. "You don't have to sleep here if you don't want to."

Dean froze in the middle of pulling back the covers, mind immediately spinning out. "What?" They'd only started sharing a room a month ago, oh God, he'd known it was too good to be true, Cas was sick of him—

"I want you to," Cas said quickly, as if sensing Dean's downward spiraling. "I just don't want you to get sick."

Oh. Oh. Feeling a little sheepish for immediately jumping to the worst conclusions—one of his greatest talents, if he did say so himself—he shook his head. "Nah, I have a great immune system."

Cas' expression turned guilty and Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"About that..." Cas started slowly. Dean gave him a look. "Well, uh... Your immune system isn't quite as healthy as you think. I've been giving it a boost for the past several years, every time you started to get sick."

"What?" Looking back, it was pretty remarkable that he'd never gotten even a common cold with all the other shit they dealt with. "Fuck."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. I should be thanking you. So, uh. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Of course Cas had been taking care of him for years, Dean thought, when they settled in bed and he turned off the lights. Cas told him he was caring, but it was Cas who was the caring one. He’d sacrificed his life for him, for Christ’s sake. Then gave up his grace to return to Earth because he wanted to be with Dean and Jack and Sam and everyone. The guy didn’t have a selfish bone in his body.

The thought should’ve been a comforting one, but instead he felt antsy, unable to stay still, shifting under the blankets.

Turning onto his side, he nudged Cas, whose eyes had fallen shut. With a grunt, Cas opened his eyes and looked over at him.

“You alright?” Dean asked, which wasn’t really what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.

“I was when I was falling asleep,” Cas grumbled. But he shifted to face Dean. In the faint light coming from the bunker hallway, Dean could see the concern in his eyes. It sent a pang through him. Cas had given up so much, and Dean was doing all he could to make sure he never regretted it, and Cas told him all the time that he was content with his choice, but still the worry sat heavy in his stomach.

"Listen,” he started. “I just wanna let you know that being human isn’t all bad. I swear it won’t be miserable forever. I know you've been introduced to the bad shit first, but—"

"That's not true," Cas interrupted, touching Dean’s hand resting between them. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Dean, being human has been the single most rewarding experience in my entire life second only to raising Jack. It started with you rescuing me from the Empty and revealing my feelings weren't unreciprocated like I thought. I would say that's far from miserable.”

"Yeah, but you had to adjust to living without your grace, and eating food, and getting sick..."

"It's been difficult, yes. I won't lie and say I enjoy bodily functions or sneezing or headaches. But I do enjoy being with you and eating chicken soup and watching absurd TV shows. I wouldn't change this for anything. Whatever happened in our lives, it led us here. And I’m happy with where we are.” He studied Dean for a moment before asking, quieter, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, yeah, of course,” Dean hastened to say, because it was true. Fuck, it couldn’t be truer. “Of course. Just feel bad, I guess. That you gave up your grace and all that. Feel like I’ve hardly done anything.”

Castiel’s expression softened. “You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever dreamt of. And anyway, it’s not a competition, Dean. I take care of you, you take care of me. That’s what love is.”

Throwing that word around, love, still made Dean’s heart skip a beat. But it was true. He loved Cas and he’d do anything for him. The same, he knew, was true on Cas’ end.

Cas said it best, so he settled for lifting Cas’ hand and kissing his knuckles.

“I would kiss you," Cas said, smiling, "but I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Screw it," Dean said, and propped himself up on an elbow to kiss him. Then he shifted, turning over and pulling Cas’ arm to wrap around him. Even if the bastard was sick, Dean was making him be the big spoon.

"For the record,” he said, feeling Cas curl around him. “I wouldn't change anything either."

And he meant it. Even when he woke up the next morning with a sore throat and stuffed up nose. Cas—who seemed to have gotten over the worst of his cold—took only one look at him before declaring it was his turn to play doctor, throwing extra blankets at him and demanding the chicken soup recipe in a flurry of activity.

He’d take care of Cas, and Cas would take care of him. It sounded like a good life, Dean thought, settling back against the pillows with a smile. He wouldn't change a thing.

[iwantutobehapppier]

Still Remains

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You had planned a great Friday, sometimes things don’t go as planned. Perhaps your boyfriend can help salvage the day? 

Warnings: 18+ Only, smut, fluffy so very soft, fingering and cursing

Word Count: 2,969 (hehehe 69)

A/N: Hey hey! Happy Third night of Chanukah I hope you all enjoy some soft Bucky for tonight’s Chanukah present. Huge shout out to @sagechanoafterdark​ for her amazing beta skills on this one. Was def out my comfort zone.

You had a perfect day planned.

It would involve a workday where you gave minimal effort after completing a rather taxing project for upper management under the deadline. Then, go to your favorite and the best-smelling shop for a signature bath bomb, a quick stop at the upscale corner store for some wine plus a premade meal as cooking was not on the agenda tonight. All of that was to be followed by something good and dramatic on your iPad coupled with a face mask while you soaked in the bath not having a care in the world.

Your boyfriend, the ever understanding James Buchanan Barnes, knew how important your much needed me time was. Agreeing to meet with you on Saturday for lunch, leaving Friday as ‘you time’.

That was the plan.

It was a good plan. The best plan you’d had in weeks after endless work and long nights.

But that plan fell apart before you finished brewing your morning cup of coffee.

Your boss returned from his morning meeting with devastating news. The project you'd been slaving over for the last 3 weeks needed to factor in new data he'd failed to previously provide. Not only that but your deadline was moved from next week to today by 4 pm. Making the excuse about upper management leaving by then.

Coffee hastily made you care less about the creamer you spilled on the counter. Rushing to your desk to boot up and start compiling the required information. By lunchtime, you had a tension headache, a stomach ache, and your lower back was throbbing.

Catching one of your coworkers as they went to the cafeteria. You begged them to pick you up something, feeling guilty about leaving your desk for even a second while such a critical project was due in such a short amount of time. You couldn't even consider stopping for something like lunch. Hell, you barely had any water, something Bucky would certainly give you hell about tomorrow.

Speaking of the man, you checked your phone spying a sweet good morning text you had missed followed a little while later by an inquiry about how your day was. Quickly, you sent a quick reply summarizing how it was not a good day then quickly put your phone away, focusing back on the task at hand.

One good thing was you had sent the newly finished project out by 3:45.

The problem that followed?

Your boss had left early dumping their work on your desk. Groaning as your hopes for an on-time escape were dashed, you paused for a break to get some water and check your phone. Replying to some friends you saw your boyfriend’s concerned text, feeling your chest warm.

‘Do you need me to do anything? I can help you relax a little more tonight instead of hanging out with Steve.’ He was a sweet and caring man. Even though most of the world feared him, you only saw the caring, attentive, and dashing lover.

You wouldn’t take up his time tonight though, you needed a solo night in and he deserved time with his best friend for how much you normally take up his time. Sending a quick dismissal reply, ‘No honey, I’ll make it work thank you for being so amazing’ you’re back to the grindstone.

Leaving the office by 6, you thought the shop for our bath bomb closed at 7, and with it raining the past hour the chances of making it there on time were slim but you would not be bested. You had the perfect night planned and salvaging it was a must.

Reaching the doors at 7:30, locked for the night. You couldn’t help the anguished cry you gave out, stomping your feet in the puddles outside the locked doors. Allowing yourself a small pity party, you square your shoulders and make your way to the corner store. Refusing to allow another piece of your perfect plan to be dashed away.

They were out of your favorite wine.

Your bottom lip trembled as you stood in the aisle frustration sweeping over you. Shoulders dropping you drag your feet to the fresh market area, finding a lone wilted sandwich remaining. Clearly, a massive rush of people had been just as desperate for the corner store’s fresh market food as you were. Or, your melodramatic brain supplied, the world was against you today.

Shaking that unhelpful thought away you quickly sent a venting text to your boyfriend. ‘I was too late for a bath bomb and the corner market is a bust. :(’ Your mind coming up with a quick contingency plan as you typed. You knew you had some wine in the apartment that you barely liked but it would do in comparison to what the store had. If you recall correctly you think you had some papaya scented bath rocks that could be an okay substitute.

Moving on to your newly formed Plan C, you made your way home. Arriving home you were soaking wet as the rain had never let up.

Clutching your broken umbrella, because why not?

Your feet drag you through the front entrance of your apartment building. You could feel the building pressure of tears behind your eyes but you wouldn’t let them fall. Nope, not until you are at least in the safety of your home. Sighing in recognition of the terribleness that was your day you go to check the mail and just as your turn to  the bulletin board your heart drops at the sign “Water Heater Out Until Sunday”

Fuck today.

Fuck your boss.

Fuck the rain.

Fuck your stupid super, who barely kept your apartment up to code.

Fuck the people who bought your wine and food.

Fuck today.

Sucking in a deep breath you turn and start the walk up the steps when your phone rings. You answer it without a second thought, trying to keep your mental state from cracking before getting into your apartment your only goal.

“Hey doll,” your boyfriend’s deep silky voice in your ear, “I wanted to see if your night got any better.”

You tried to tell him what happened, you really did but as the words formed you plopped down onto the stairs; then, became a crying and blubbering mess. Your sweet boyfriend only able to make out blips like “water heater, fuck my boss, lazy super, I just can’t anymore.”

As you kept trying to explain what was wrong through your uncontrollable and frustrating sobs, Bucky’s voice finally broke through, “Stay on the phone with me, doll,” he instructed. Hearing rustling on the other end, “I’m on my way.”

Not even thirty minutes later Bucky found you, sitting on the steps. No longer sobbing, but tears intermittently still falling down your cheeks and emotionally wrung out.

He called your name softly and you looked up at him. Tying your best to smile, but it was hard. Without another word, he picked you up off the stairs and carried you to his car bridal style. Turning on the heater after starting the car, he begins to make his way back to his place respecting your silence.

“Bucky,” you whisper out as you both sit at a red light. He turns his head, those cerulean blue eyes shining with adoration and a bit of concern. “Thank you,” is all you can get out but god you want to say more the words stuck in your throat.

Knowing you were still decompressing his hand squeezes your thigh. “Anything for you, doll.” He winks before facing the road once more as the light turns green.

Pulling into the garage of his house, he exits the car lightly jogging to your side and opening the door. You go to grab your bags before he can get you. “Leave ‘em, I'll get them later.” Heeding his advice you let him pick you up once more leaving your stuff in the car.

Carrying you through the house into the master bath he gently set you on the edge of the tub. Holding up one finger he turns around looking under the sink before pulling out your favorite bath bomb. The exact one you threw a fantastic pity party about earlier tonight.

Your jaw goes slack before you rapidly question your boyfriend, “where did you get this? When did you get this?!"

“I stocked up last time we took a bath together,” he explained. Leaning over you Bucky swept the hair off your forehead before kissing you there. “I wanted to make sure you could be comfortable here.”

“Oh,” is all you can get out, floored by such a sweet and selfless gesture.

“Your shampoo is still in the shower,” he said, gesturing to the stand-up shower to the left of his free-standing soaking tub. “I know you like rinsing off before a bath.”

“I don’t wanna be in a soup of my own filth,” you said with a pout, justifying your pre-shower bath ritual. He chuckles at you leaning down farther before capturing your lips. Slipping his tongue into your mouth, trailing over the roof of your mouth, cupping your chin with his cool metal hand. Bucky hums into your mouth when your tongue connects with his.  

The kiss feels endless, the gentle caress of his tongue on yours exploring your mouth a much-needed comfort after this horrible day. When he pulls away your mouth remains slightly open, eyes closed a soft whine coming out at the loss.  When he caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles you open your eyes.

“Go on,” he nods his head to the shower, “relax and enjoy your bath.”

Watching his retreating figure you lick your lips eyeing his back end. Shaking your head out of your dirty thoughts you strip down to shower.

Once sufficiently clean, you wrap your hair in one of the microfibers wraps you’d left last time. Realizing you’d actually been leaving a lot more here and Bucky seemed to by buying stuff you normally kept at your place. Eyeing the double sink counter, you notice some of your creams and cleansing products there. Fairly certain you hadn’t purchased some of them twice due to cost alone.

Smiling at all the self-care items he had clearly bought just for you, your fingers trail along the marble countertop until you reach your bath bomb. Grabbing the half pink and half purple ball,  you make your way to the giant tub. Slipping in you set the bath bomb onto the window sill beside you.

Setting the water to the perfect warm temperature, you push the stopper down and sit back, resting your head on the tub rim as the tub fills. Once it hits the right level you turn the tap off and drop the bath bomb in, enjoying the scents of Jasmine and Ylang Yalng permeate the air as the tub water begins to turn a dusky pink.

A few minutes later Bucky walks in, holding a bottle of your favorite Rose Gold Rosé, a sparkling wine glass, and a clear package of food. Setting it all on the counter he turns to you and smiles at the sight of your already relaxed body.

Looking up at him a soft smile pulls on your lips. “I noticed you bought some of my products for here,” you comment.

“Is that a problem,” he inquires, rather sure it’s not but he wants to make sure he’s not crossing a line.

“N-no,” you stutter briefly, worried you might offend him for such a kind gesture. “No, I just didn’t know you did that.”

Smiling he sinks to his knees next to you outside the tub, folding his arms over the lip, “Well, didn’t wanna make a big deal of it.”

You nod, but still curious, “Why though?”

“So you’ll stay here more often,” he admits with a shrug. Bucky felt that the tactic was purely selfish on his part, but if all your things were here why would you need to go back to your place? He’d use tonight to show you that you can have your own space even when living with him.

“You like me being here?” Bucky wants to laugh at your doubt but doesn’t, knowing your nerves are rather frazzles so any sass from him could be misconstrued.

“Of course,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I always want you here.”

“Wh-what?” you gasp sitting upright in the tub so fast the water sloshing on the sides, trying to put together exactly what he is saying.

“This is a conversation later,” he cuts off with a smile. Wanting to stop your brain from the tailspin it was definitely heading towards. “I just wanna help my baby relax,” he says, cupping your cheek with his flesh hand.

You nuzzle into his hand with a contented sigh, “Oh, alright.”

His hand resting on your cheek slips down under the water, tweaking both your nipples pulling an involuntary gasp from you.

“Yeah,” his voice a whisper. Fingers trailing down your stomach to cup your heat, slipping between your slit. “You gonna let me help you relax after such a bad day?” You nod your head, mouth open in a muted moan panting with each stroke against you.

Bucky takes advantage of your open mouth, leaning in for a kiss with his tongue taking residence in your mouth. His fingers capture your clit gently squeezing before rubbing tight circles. Your eyes slipped closed at the growing pleasure.

You whimper into his mouth as he quickens his pace. Dipping your head back as he hits a good rhythm and pressure, making your toes curl but his other hand grips you by the back of your neck keeping your lips pressed tightly against his.

Two fingers dip inside you, slowly pushing in and out curling upwards, his palm rubbing against your clit in tandem with his fingers. When he hits that one special spot you try to slouch down into the water but his hand on your neck keeps you in place.

Your hands grip the lip of the tub, legs moving underneath the water and making soft waves that splash against the sides of the tub. Whimpers and moans pour from your mouth into his, eager to consume them.

Bucky tilts his head, making your teeth clash, ramping him up more. He’s moving faster now keying you quickly up but it’s not enough, he knows you need direct stimulation. Pulling his fingers back out of your heat, he rubs your clit in quick concise circles.

Your eyes pop open catching his intense stare, knowing he’d been watching you all along. Bucky was observant and always intense, picking up on every brow tick, nostril flare, and lip twitch. Almost studying you and picking you apart for his and your pleasure. It’s a goal for him, to make you feel all the emotions you make him feel, giving you the physical pleasure you bring to him.

The intensity of it all was too much.

His fingers keep their tempo, applying a little more pressure and it’s enough. Your legs shake and spasm making the water at the surface choppy and slosh in the tub. He released your mouth to hear your cry out in ecstasy, knuckles turning white as they held the edge of the tub.

“That’s my good girl,” his voice rumbles out.

Removing his hand from the dark pink water, at the same time his metal hand releases your neck. You look up at him panting, dazed in the euphoria of your orgasm as he stands. Bucky turns around, uncorking the wine with a pop and pouring you a glass. Looking around he frowns briefly, walking to the closet and returning with a brand new large bath tray, similar to the one you have at home. He sets it over the tub in front of you and places the bottle and full glass on the tray along with the cheese, crackers, and fruit pack.

He cups your chin pulling your slightly dazed eyes to him, he leans down pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Now you enjoy the wine and eat a little bit of food for me. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

“Uh-huh,” is all you can get out. Bucky smirks with pride at your ravaged state as he leaves you alone in the bathroom with one last look.

After a good two-hour soak where you ended up emptying the tub a little before refilling with warm water halfway through, you finally felt relaxed enough and left the bathroom. Wrapping yourself in a plush white towel you slowly unwrap your now almost dry hair.

Padding into Bucky’s room you smile at the blue henley he left laying on the bed for you. Lifting it up you notice something is missing.

“Bucky?” you call out in confusion, brows furrowed as you look over the bed.

“Yeah, doll,” he replied, walking towards the bedroom, turning off lights as he made his way in.

“Do you have any of my underwear here?”

He starts pulling his sweats off watching you search for the missing item, “Yeah, I have a few.” He admits from behind you. You jump and playfully swat him behind you, a soft chuckle rumbles from him when he spins you around to face him.

“Hmm,” your lips turned up in a smile. Wondering why he didn’t provide you any and just with his shirt. You wrap your arms around his neck pressing your foreheads together. “I’m going to need a pair.”

He tugs at your towel smirking when it falls to the floor. His eyes trailing down your exposed body and back up to your face.

“No,” he gives you a pointed stare pulling you tight against him, “you don’t.”

[hallowxiu]

A Chance Meeting

pairing: human!mammon/demon!gn!mc

word count: 5.6k

summary: Never one for fate, you run into Mammon for a second time, albeit in a less than ideal scenario.

a/n: tw: there are mentions of pocket knives and mugging in this one shot.

part two of the demon!mc and human!mammon series. 

part one

“Wow,” Satan comments as he steps into the kitchen, looking around at the disarray of all the dishes on the counters and in the sink. “This is the eighth day in a row you’ve been on cooking duty. And for all meals too, what did you do to piss off Lucifer so bad?” A sheepish smile formed on your lips and you can hear more footsteps coming towards the kitchen. 

“You’re on cooking duty again? I miss Lucifer’s cooking!” Asmodeus stomps his foot and there’s a pout on his lips. You roll your eyes in response, but you didn’t exactly blame your younger brother. Your cooking wasn’t… the best. It certainly wasn’t the worst by any means, but it also wasn’t something you’d want for a week straight. 

“Ah, well, you better get used to my cooking for the next several months. It’s my punishment.” You felt like crying on the spot. Too much cooking, way too much cooking. And to keep Beelzebub fed for so many days? That within itself was a punishment. Satan quirked an eyebrow at your news. 

“What in the Devildom did you possibly do?”

“I uh, well, you see…” You didn’t want to explain this to your brothers, especially the two of them. They were quite ruthless when it came to gossip. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be our role model? No wonder he’s stricter with the punishments.” There’s a cheeky grin on Asmodeus’ face and his eyes twinkle with amusement as he tries to piece together what you must’ve done. 

“Then again, he favors you most, so your punishments aren’t that bad in comparison to ours.” Satan chimes in where Asmodeus left off. With a sigh, you decide to tell them. You knew they’d never leave you alone if you didn’t.

“I snuck off to the human realm.” 

Silence.

Yeah, you should have expected that. In fact, you were. “Oh, well, yeah, that’ll do it.” Is all Asmodeus says before leaving the room. “Make something good tonight! I’m hungry, but don’t make it so oily this time! My skin is starting to suffer because of you!” You shake your head at Asmodeus, though you make the mental note anyway. One less person angry with you would be ideal, after all. You pause when you notice Satan still lingering by the entryway of the kitchen. 

“What’s up?” You ask while you open the fridge, your eyes scanning for potential ingredients. You had no idea what to make; you exhausted your options after the second day. It’s a miracle you’ve managed to make it this long already. 

“Why do you want to go to the human realm? To my understanding, you were never the type before that showed any particular interest in humans. I was told that it was Lilith and Belphegor’s route of interest.” Leave it to Satan to be the most curious. You were hardly surprised, after all, Satan was the only one who was never an angel, the only one who never met Lilith, and the only one who never experienced first hand the shit show that went down the day leading to everyone falling. You knew the other brothers rarely talked to him about their previous life, and you wondered if that ever upset him. However, being the doting older sibling, you didn’t like the idea of Satan feeling left out. If anything, he got all the details from you. 

“I wanted to know what Lilith liked about humans so much, why she was willing to put everything on the line for one.” You answer your brother honestly. “Belphegor as well, I was hoping maybe that’d help me get closer with him. I know you don’t know from experience, but he wasn’t always this hostile and bitter. I’m not sure if the others told you, but he also adored humans just as much as Lilith. The two of them frequented the human realm together all the time.”

Satan seems to be soaking in the information like a sponge. You’re sure he’s grateful for the new information and while you knew he’d never tell you, he hated feeling left out with everyone. Maybe this would help him feel closer with the others. “I did not know that, although I suppose that would make sense. Beelzebub tells me a bit about Lilith and Belphegor every now and then. He always looks a little depressed when talking about them, so I assumed Belphegor changed compared to before.” You nod your head to Satan’s conclusion. “Did you find what you were looking for?” Images of the white-haired man suddenly flood your brain and you fight off a creeping blush that threatens to spread on your face. Did you find what you were looking for? You found something, but that doesn’t exactly answer the question. 

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly once again. “I had only been down twice when Lucifer busted my ass. You know how he can be.” You sigh while putting containers of various ingredients on the counter. “Honestly, this is a pretty mild punishment for what I did.” Satan scoffs in response. You knew he’d disagree with anything having to do with the eldest brother. “That being said, I would like to go back.” Satan’s green eyes look at you in curiosity. You? The second eldest going against Lucifer? Now that’s something you don’t see every day. “I met a human there,” you try to tread carefully, “and we didn’t get off on the best foot.” 

“So?” The blond looks at you with a head tilt. “Why would you care whether or not you got off on the wrong foot with a human?” You supposed it was hard for a demon to understand why this would matter. Then again, you were a demon and you didn’t even understand why this mattered to you. “Please don’t tell me you don’t know again.” He groans from your silence. “This is hardly interesting at this point. If you’re going to get in trouble with Lucifer, you might as well make it something good.”

“Sorry my life is too boring for your standards.” You snort while prying off a lid. “But it’s the truth. He was nice enough for a human.” Cute too, but Satan didn’t need to know that. 

“Well.” a sigh leaves your brother, “keep me updated if you end up going back. Not that I find this interesting or anything. I just like pissing off Lucifer.” You chuckle to yourself once the other leaves. You thought his thinly veiled attempts of keeping track of your personal life was cute, even if he’d rather die than admit it. A sigh leaves you once you bring your attention back to the dilemma in front of you. Right, you’d have to get through this first. 

You’re on your bed, fingers drumming along the back of your D.D.D case. You were bored out of your mind and done with cooking duty for the day. It was late into the night and most of your brothers would be asleep by now, so why weren’t you? An annoyed breath of air escapes you and you turn on your side. You can’t get that damned kid out of your head. Had he put some kind of curse on you? You thought the thought was nothing but that at first, a silly thought, but now that you can’t even sleep because of this mere human, your sleep-deprived state thinks it might be a little more serious than a passing thought. 

You push yourself to sit up. You rub at your eyes groggily and you internally debate whether or not you should return to the human realm. The odds of Mammon being out and about were extremely slim, especially since the hour over there would also be ungodly. You were anxious for some reason, your body wanting to get up and start the day despite it being only a quarter past three in the morning. You were never one to believe in fate or get worked up over it, but your body was in panic mode and you had little to no idea why. You weren’t the type to get anxious over nothing either, and you thought you knew your body well enough as it was, but it seems you were mistaken. With a sigh, you close your eyes and prepare yourself for the future lecture you’d be sure to get. You already knew where you planned to go. 

The air was cold, biting at your skin as you found yourself standing in the middle of the empty streets. You were back in the city you had visited the last two times, though something seemed… off. You couldn’t place as to what, but it was enough to send alarms throughout your body. You walked down the streets, for once regretting that you didn’t bring a jacket. Did demons tend to become more sensitive with each time they traveled to the human realm? You never remembered being this cold before. 

Your eyes scanned over the closed stores, not a single soul out on the streets. You didn’t realize that even the city got this empty at night; you were expecting at least a few people here and there. It’s when you’d been walking for about ten minutes that you heard a commotion from one of the back alleys. Your eyebrow quirked and you paused in place. Should you get involved? As a demon, you didn’t want to meddle with humans too much, not if they weren’t Mammon or if you weren’t needed. Besides, what would your reputation turn to if you were caught helping humans in need whenever they were in trouble? Just keep going, that’s what you ended up telling yourself. 

“Oi, whaddya think you’re doin’? Get your dirty hands off me!”

Okay, fuck that. Scratch every single thought that was previously in your head; it’s up in flames now. You found yourself rushing towards the source of the noise with your eyes blown wide as you frantically searched for the human you hoped wasn’t the one in trouble. “Mammon?” You shouted into the night. Every nerve was going off and you were just barely keeping your demon form back. You heard Mammon calling out for you and it kicked you into overdrive. You’re by his side in a second, pulling him away from a group of three men. “What the hell is going on here?” 

“These annoyin’ assholes are tryna steal my money! A man can’t even walk home in peace without gettin’ mugged! Can ya believe that shit?” Still, you didn’t miss the way he inched closer to you as he anxiously glanced between the three of them. 

“I thought your job closed in the evening?” You asked incredulously as you managed to put space between Mammon and the strangers. 

“I have two jobs! Ya ever tried livin’ in a city? Do we even need to be discussin’ this right now?” Your eyes caught a glimpse of something shining and you abruptly moved in front of Mammon when noticing it was a pocket knife. 

“We only planned on roughing him up a bit.” The man with the weapon explained, a smirk on his lips as he took a step closer. “But since he got his friend involved to make things more complicated, I think we’ll have to do a bit more than that.” You weren’t the least bit scared, but you needed to keep in mind that Mammon was a human and that the boy could easily get hurt if things went wrong. 

“Get a job like him and you won’t need to mug people for the holidays.” You deadpan, Mammon gasping behind you.

“Are ya tryna get us killed? God, ya shoulda just kept walkin’!” Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance but you choose to ignore him for the time being. Did humans always have to be so ungrateful when they were in the middle of being aided? 

Realistically, there were a few ways to go about this. The obvious and easiest one involved you shifting into your demon form, but then you’d have to kill three humans and scar Mammon. The cons were outweighing the pros, no matter how fast the situation would be resolved. The second option would be to fight them in your current form, which wouldn’t be too much of a problem as your strength wasn’t in question, but you’d still more than likely end up killing the three humans and traumatizing Mammon. He’d also probably want to call the police. Too much of a hassle for you. 

Finally, you could just… scare them. They’d run away, Mammon would be safe, and no one would end up dead. The only con would be if Mammon ended up seeing how you planned on scaring them, but that was your last option and you didn’t have a ton of time to come up with any others on the spot. “Mammon,” you turned your head slightly so that you could see him, “stay where you are, okay? Don’t move and don’t get in front of me.” If you could do this with him standing behind you, that would be the ideal situation. When he nodded his head in confirmation, you closed your eyes and let out a sigh. The three men were advancing slowly, thrown off by your calm demeanor. It’s when you opened your eyes again that you could feel your face begin to shift and transform into something else, a form a demon only takes when their aim was, to put it bluntly, to scare the shit out of humans. 

Naturally, when seeing your face, the three men dropped their weapons and ran, yelling and screaming the entire way until you were sure they were gone. Just as fast as you had transformed your face, you averted it back to its original form, turning around to face Mammon. “Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Now that you could properly analyze him, you had noticed he was covered with dirt and scratches, but other than that he seemed to be free of any major injuries. The man’s dazed as you looked him over, your hands pulling at his clothes and running through his hair to make sure you didn’t accidentally miss anything fatal. 

“They just roughed me up a little, that’s all. Ya know, grabbin’ my hair and shit and throwin’ me on the ground. All that fun stuff.” You could tell he was shaken up, but other than that your human seemed to be in good health. 

Wait. Your human? Why did you think that? It’s fine, just ignore it, it was probably just a slip-up. You’re panicked, after all, there’s no need to worry-

“How’d ya scare them off like that anyway?” 

“Uh, I showed them a bigger pocket knife.” It was a lame excuse, but it’s what you had to work with. 

“Oh, okay.” You’re thanking everything in the universe that he didn’t question you further on that. At the same time though… 

“You really should question things more. Who knows what could gobble you up out here. How’d you even end up in this situation? Did they tell you to follow them?” You couldn’t help but mother hen him. Even though he admitted to being alright, and that it checked out, you were still worried over this fragile little human that needed your help and protection at all costs. Yes, that’s it. You were being generous with your time and helping a human out, that was all it was. He would owe you, that was for sure. 

“What-- are you seriously grillin’ me right now? What happened to not victim blamin’ and shit, huh? They didn’t say shit to me! They just came up on me like I was a plate of steak and they were all starved dogs!” Interesting comparison, you note duly. “Next thing I know, I’m gettin’ dragged into some shady ass alley and they’re tryna steal all my shit! The joke’s on them, I’m flat broke anyway. They would have killed me and still walked away with jackshit.” That did little to ease your concerns. It amplified them. 

“How are you still alive?” It was a question for yourself, but based on Mammon’s facial expression, you said it out loud. 

“I’ll have ya know I’m great at self-defense! I didn’t need ya runnin’ to my aid like I was some damsel in distress or somethin’.” There was a red tint to his cheeks, but you weren’t sure if that was because of what just happened. 

“Right.” You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. You glanced at the time on your D.D.D, ignoring the fact that Mammon was sending your phone a glare. Right, probably because I made up that lie the other day. You needed to get back home; should Lucifer find out you left yet again, he would have your head on a stick. At the same time, however, you didn’t feel comfortable leaving Mammon alone after he nearly got mugged. “Where do you live?” Consequences be damned, you weren’t letting anything else happen to this human. 

“Huh?”

“Where do you live?” You repeated yourself as if it were a normal question to ask someone outside in an alley past three in the morning. “You don’t think I’m letting you walk home alone after all that, do you?” There’s a sly grin on your lips when Mammon begins to practically have a temper tantrum over your words. “Why are you so upset? I’m trying to make sure you don’t get mugged again. You could at least thank me.” Why were humans so ungrateful and complicated? “The quicker you stop throwing a complete fit, the sooner we get you back home.”

“I am not a child!” 

“I never said you were.”

“You’re implyin’ it!”

“I’m doing no such thing.” 

You decided to dial back the teasing in case he pops a blood vessel. With a sigh, you turned around on your heels. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you alone now. Just be careful and keep your guard up.” There was no way in hell you were going to leave him alone. If anything you’d just follow him in the shadows until you knew he was safe and sound. Stalkerish? Yes, possibly, but the right intentions were there.

As you began to walk away, a timid hand reached out and grabbed at your wrist. “Alright, fine. You can come with me, but don’t misunderstand. I’m not scared or nothin’, I’m just doin’ this simply so you’ll leave me alone.” A lopsided grin forms on your face when you look at his cute expression. Yeah, you were in trouble. 

The walk was mostly filled with silence, the two of you strolling along side-by-side as you kept an eye out for any more potential threats. Mammon seemed less anxious now that you were with him, and that put a part of you at ease. The walking came to an abrupt stop and you looked up from the ground to view an apartment complex that you assumed Mammon lived in. “This your place?” It looked like you’d be able to get home before Lucifer found anything out after all.

“Yeah.” He’s rubbing at his arms awkwardly as he lingers outside. “Uh, thanks for, uh, helpin’ me out and whatnot.” 

“Of course.” You knew there was something he was holding back based on his posture. “What’s wrong? Did someone follow us?” You turned around to quickly scan the area, though nothing came up. 

“What? No! I just, I was wonderin’, if-- look, it’s late out, yeah? And it’s cold as fuck and ya don’t have a jacket on, so, I don’t know, did ya maybe want to, possibly spend the night?” You froze in place, a look of pure shock on your face as you stared at the human. “It’s nothin’ sexual!” He practically cried out in embarrassment. “It’s just to repay ya for helpin’ me out! I swear!” 

You rub at the back of your neck shyly as you glanced around. “Yeah, sure, I don’t mind if you don’t mind.” So much for getting back home early. 

You slip your shoes off once you walked inside before awkwardly standing in the middle of his living room. What were you supposed to do now? You swore in all of your life you’ve never been so awkward before, and not around a human either. “Feel free to sit on the couch if you’d like.” Mammon offers as he quickly grabbed the trash from the coffee table. “I’ll get ya some blankets from the closet, pillows too.” You do as you're told and you sit down to avoid feeling awkward. You look around the room once he’s gone. It wasn’t… bad. Sure, it was nowhere near the size of the House of Lamentation, but it wasn’t awful, either. Pictures of him and his friends were framed on the walls, empty pizza boxes were stacked on the kitchen counter, and empty water bottles filled the recycling bin to the rim. He was a little messy, but then again he wasn’t expecting company, so you decided not to judge him for it. Not too much, anyway. There was a small television held up by a cardboard box across from the coffee table. You had to give him credit for creativity. 

“Sorry that the place is a dump.” Mammon reenters the room with blankets piled up in his arms, as well as a change of clothes for you. “I usually clean up when company comes over, but obviously…” His voice trails off as you take the blankets and clothes from him. 

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him and the red tint to his cheeks return. 

“You’re welcome.” He huffed under his breath before disappearing once again. “Let me find ya some pillows. I have a few extra ones around here somewhere.” He calls out from down the hall. You look down at the clothes he gave you. A baggy plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants. It was better than sleeping in your clothes you supposed. You began to pull your shirt over your head so that you could properly change before Mammon came stumbling back into the room. “I found some- oh god! Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you’d be changin’-- I have a bathroom, ya know. What the fuck am I even apologizin’ for? Who changes in the middle of someone’s livin’ room anyway?” You blink and looked over at a beet red Mammon who’s gripping onto the pillows for dear life, his eyes looking anywhere but at you. You didn’t understand the big deal, but then again, humans tended to react strangely to others who were naked or in the process of changing. 

You slowly pulled your shirt back down and looked over at him again. “Sorry.” Is all you have to offer him. 

“I,” it took him a second to recollect his bearings, “ya really aren’t from here, are ya?” 

“No, I’m really not.” 

“Right then…” He shifts on his feet uncomfortably before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I brought you some pillows.” He dumps them into your lap before storming down the hall. “I’m goin’ to bed; don’t steal anythin’ or I’ll kick ya to the curb!” You rolled your eyes at his empty threat before grabbing your clothes and pillows. This would count as one of the strangest nights of your life.

You woke up to the sun shining in your face, something you weren’t accustomed to. You rubbed at your eyes sleepily before pausing. No, as odd as it may be to you, the sun was not the thing that woke you up. A sharp poke to your side makes you look over.

Yes, that’s what woke you up. 

You look over from where you were lying on the couch to see Mammon’s foot more or less kicking your side. He wasn’t putting any force behind the kick, but it nonetheless made you raise an eyebrow. “Are you kicking me?” The man paused his ministrations when realizing you were awake. 

“I thought you were dead.”

“What?”

“I don’t know; sometimes people die in their sleep. Was makin’ sure ya weren’t one of them? How would I explain that to the police?” You stared at Mammon in disbelief, the white-haired man growing red in response to your judgmental glare.

“Ya don’t need to be so rude.” He finally huffs out in response and turned around with his arms crossed over his chest. “Listen, I was just wakin’ ya up because I need to get goin’ to work soon and I can’t have ya stayin’ around unsupervised in case ya steal all of my shit and I come back to a cleaned out apartment.” Well, he was certainly blunt with what he was thinking. 

You slowly sit up and grab your D.D.D. You figured it was still early in the morning since Mammon had once mentioned that he worked at the crack of dawn. If you were lucky, you could make it back home before Lucifer would notice. 

And that’s when you remembered that you saw sunshine when you woke up.

With immediate panic, you unlock your phone to look at the time. To your horror, it was nearly eleven in the morning. Lucifer was awake and speaking of the devil himself, you had several missed calls and messages from your brothers, specifically from Lucifer. You bolted from where you were previously resting as Mammon watched before he stumbled back from your sudden movements. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I gotta go.” You quickly said as you scooped up your clothes and rushed towards the door. Clumsily slipping on your shoes, you turned back to him. “I’ll return your clothes to you another day. Make sure you don’t get mugged again on your way home. If you need to, buy some mace or pepper spray or something.” Before he could respond to your advice, you’re out his front door and running down the hall. You were so so screwed.

Screwed hadn’t even begun to cover it. You showed up in the clothes a human lent you, reeking of a human, still drowsy as you had just woken up not long ago, and just overall completely disheveled. On top of that, you knew Lucifer was awake, but you had hoped to arrive home at a time where he was out with Diavolo and you’d be able to shower and change before your inevitable lecture, which might have gotten you off a little easier.

Except that’s not what happened, as before you even unlocked the front door Lucifer swung it open. Now you were sitting in his office as Lucifer silently paced around his room. This had been going on for thirty minutes. You could tell your brothers were waiting on the other side of the door, trying to see if they could hear anything. You wanted to tell them not to hold their breath, but you were too nervous to move and unable to take your eyes off your eldest brother. 

“I thought I told you not to go back to the human realm.” You quickly looked away when Lucifer locked on to your gaze. “Look at me when I’m talking to you; I will not repeat myself.” Hesitantly, you found yourself looking back over at him. “Answer me.” His tone was that of a warning, and you knew at that moment you were on thin ice.

“You did.”

“And yet I found your room empty last night, and your D.D.D nearly unreachable.” You opened your mouth to speak, but Lucifer raises a hand to keep you silent. “And then I found myself thinking, that out of all my siblings, you couldn’t have been that stupid to return to the human realm after I told you to stop.” You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, and you lean back against the couch you were sitting on. You tried to shrink yourself, but that didn’t make Lucifer any less intimidating. “And then I thought, ‘Lucifer, don’t be so hard on them, maybe they needed a fresh breath of air. You can’t accuse your siblings of being up to something whenever they’re out of your sight. Surely they aren’t that bad.’” He quickened his pace as he circled the room. “But then after two hours you didn’t return, and something told me you yet again disobeyed me and returned to the very place I warned you not to go. Tell me, was watching Lilith and Belphegor suffer because humans not good enough for you? You were never a sibling I had to worry about before. You always listened to me and you helped me keep everyone in line. Why is it that now I have to keep my eye on you?” He stopped abruptly and rubbed at his temples. 

You felt irritation stir deep inside you, though you bit back what you wanted to say. You knew Lucifer was getting worked up, and if you started an argument now, it wouldn’t end well for anyone involved. “I’m sorry.” Keeping the peace seemed like a better option for you at the moment. You knew what battles to pick, and this was not one of them. “I shouldn’t have lied to you and snuck out--”

“You came back in the clothes of a human.” Lucifer seethed. “You smelled like a human. Do you have a human lover? Are you seeing a human?” He looks at you with wide eyes, the demon looking like he was on the brink of insanity. “I will not watch someone I love fall because of humans. Not again. If you’re seeing a human then forget about it. It’s over.” 

“I’m not involved with a human, Lucifer.”

“Then why are you wearing their clothes? Why do you smell more human than a demon? You were gone for an entire night!” You flinch when he raised his voice and he noticed, the demon then trying to dial it back somewhat. He never liked arguing with you even when you were the one in the wrong. Perhaps it was one of the perks of being the favorite? “If you were hunting humans you wouldn’t be gone all night. If you were just looking around you wouldn’t be gone all night! Tell me, what were you doing? Who were you with?” You swallow nervously and averted your gaze. Getting Mammon in trouble, and with Lucifer of all people, was not what you wanted to do. “I will not repeat myself. Who--”

“I’m not telling you who I was with.” This wasn’t usual for you. You didn’t talk back to Lucifer, you didn’t tell him no, and you certainly didn’t argue with him. But you knew if you gave him Mammon’s information, the human that you tried so desperately to save last night might be put in danger once again, but this time by your brother. It wasn’t a situation you wanted to get involved in, so you’d try and prevent it as best as possible. 

“Pardon?” There’s a look of shock on his face, and you could almost hear one of your brother’s gasps from outside the door. 

“I’m not going to tell you who I was with last night. Why would I? So you can kill him?” If looks could kill, you’d be dead right now. 

“So it’s a man.” 

You groaned at your brother’s response. Typical Lucifer. “Lucifer, I already apologized for going without your permission, but I’m an adult, and I’m not going to give you every little detail of what I did when I was in the human realm.”

“It’s the way you think that that suffices as an apology.” He states in disbelief. “You need to learn to stay in your place.”

“And where’s my place?”

“If you were smart, you’d learn quickly.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not going to ask again. Who is he?”

“I’m still not going to tell you.” You knew Lucifer would go to any length to protect those closest to him, and if he deemed Mammon as a threat it would most likely end with the human getting wiped from existence. You could see the anger just barely restrained behind his eyes, the demon shifting into his demon form without even realizing it. 

“If that’s how you want to play, then we will play it your way. You are forbidden from ever attending the human realm again.” You blink several times before rising from your seat. 

“And who are you to make that decision?”

“Along with that, you are to stay in my sight until I decide you can be trusted on your own again. Lord Diavolo doesn’t approve of random trips to the human realm, and when he finds out that you’ve been making day trips there, you’ll suddenly find yourself with lots of free time on your hands.” You paused. You hadn’t thought of that. You knew, although Diavolo was pushing for realms to reach peace with one another, that he wouldn’t approve of a demon taking unauthorized trips to the human realm. 

“But--”

“No. We’re finished here; there’s nothing further to discuss.” You knew his words held truth by the expression on his face. You watch wordlessly as Lucifer leaves his study, leaving you alone in the room with just your thoughts.

[anonthenullifier]

Tommy get caught making out with his girlfriend pls

Thanks for the ask! I hope you enjoy!

———

With a soft click the last light on the main floor extinguishes, leaving Vision to bask in the serenity of lumenless solitude. It’s a simple joy he gets each night after the others are in bed. Satisfied with the main floor, he rises an inch off the ground, hovering above each step instead of touching it, ostensibly to keep the wood from creaking and waking either of the boys, but truthfully he finds it soothing. 

At the top of the stairs he glances to the right, checking that the doors are shut and the lights off, particularly the bathroom since Tommy has a habit of leaving everything illuminated. It is all blissfully shrouded in night. Vision’s lips curve ever so slightly up, the evening remarkably calm, no squabbles between their sons or unnecessary name calling. Even Tommy managed a mumbled Love you on his way up the stairs. It’s almost too calm. 

Vision shakes away the thought, not even certain where it came from, and begins to head towards his own bedroom. That’s when he hears a pathetic whine from behind, body whipping around until he spots the culprit. “Did he shut you out?” Sparky's ears perk up at the attention, little tail giving a forlorn wag. “That is an easy fix.” Vision hovers back to Tommy’s door and goes to open it, except the handle doesn’t move. “How odd.” They don’t have a locked room policy but neither of their sons has ever locked anyone (especially Sparky) out, likely because a locked door stands little chance against any of their powers. 

As if attuned to his own confusion, Sparky stares up at Vision, head cocked to the side in anticipation of his solution. He could easily phase the lock open, but privacy is a right he wishes to allow his sons. “I suppose you can sleep with us tonight,” the words are meaningless to the dog, head still held at an adorable forty seven degree tilt, one fine tuned to get treats and balls thrown. “Come along,” Vision nods towards the master bedroom, the joyful tapping of nails on the hardwoods hard not to smile at. When they get to the door, Vision sets a single cheeky ground rule, “Keep your paws off my wife, understood?” 

A little sniffle and wag of his tail accepts the rule and Vision opens the door, Sparky racing in and immediately leaping into the bed, trouncing across the duvet until he is laying with his head on Wanda’s stomach and paws on her arm. “Why hello there you handsome man,” Wanda pets his head and Vision provides a good-natured glare at the rule breaker who lacks any sense of regret, or so the lolling tongue suggests, “and hello to you as well Sparky.” Vision shouldn’t feel a sense of victory over a dog, but he can’t help it, especially when Wanda’s eyes alight in flirtatious glee that draws him to sit on the bed. 

“You can thank Thomas for our company.”

Her “Oh?” is cooed at the dog, who has flopped sideways for a belly rub, his back paws discourteously shoved into Vision’s pillow. 

“He locked him out.”

Wanda leans down so that her nose is almost touching Sparky’s as her fingers scrunch behind his ears. “That wasn’t very nice of him.” If one were to imagine the expression of a customer being pampered at the world's most luxurious spa, it would no doubt pale in comparison the overflowing exuberance on the dog’s face. “Probably safest not to be in there anyway.” 

The comment is said with an air of knowingness and a tinge of innuendo. Vision had not even thought about that possibility, truthfully he hadn’t even thought much of the door being locked but it’s likely not an unfair assumption, the boys are teens now, a time he has read is filled with raging hormones and exploration. Perhaps they’ll need to have another talk about boundaries if this becomes the norm.  For now he’ll simply not think anymore about it. 

“Sparky, may I,” he attempts to scoot the paws away from his pillow, but they spring back immediately, forcing Vision to lay down farther than he’d like from Wanda. “This is why he sleeps with Tommy.”

Wanda shrugs, still playing the role of world's best masseuse, “I’m comfy.” 

“That is a relief.” A throw pillow is tossed at his face with a flick of her wrist, except, having been married for so long and understanding the statistical patterns of her reactions, he is able to catch it, pointedly fluffing it before sliding it behind his neck. “Thank you, darling.” What he expects to see next is the purse of her lips, a sign she is striving not to laugh. Her lips are pinched together but there is no amusement to be found on her face, even her hand stalling in petting Sparky. “Is something wrong?”

A tilt of her head to the side sends his autonomic system into action. “Did you check the perimeter?”

“Of course.” He waits for more and when it stays locked behind her lips, he presses on. “Why?”

Scarlet wavers along the blanket, her fingers rising and falling like a puppeteer until she seems to reach a conclusion. “There’s an extra mind in Tommy’s room.” 

The locked door becomes menacing instead of a minor annoyance. “I will check the outside and you—“

“Inside, yep.” 

Vision leans back, phasing through the bed and the wall until he is eight feet above their deck. Through controlled trial and error he knows the best density for stealth, his molecules bursting into a frenzy until he is lighter than air. Only then does he dare fly towards Tommy’s window. It is wide open, concerning and not economical since it will increase their energy costs, not that it is a concern at the moment, but for later.  Window ajar. 

Door still locked. Confirmed second mind in his room. Not Billy. 

If Wanda recognized the mind, she would alert him. I will proceed inside. Vision breathes in, always wanting just a second to settle all raging thoughts, and then he phases into the room, Mindstone glowing faintly so as not to alert the intruder. With hushed breath, Vision inches forward, noting what appears to be Tommy on his side, pajama clad back facing him. 

Nothing seems amiss, other than the open window and extra mind. It is unsettling. Vision increases his auricular and ocular sensors as he continues to investigate, hands lifting into stance #5 of Natasha’s recommended hand to hand combat defenses.

There is a quiet smacking noise, a recognizable one though he can not place it, and then there is a...giggle, not belonging to his son. It is when he notices the splay of dark hair on the pillow that it all clicks. Oh. Vision begins to back up, not desiring to intrude further even if he also has this instinctive need to interrupt, but he quells that. 

I’m coming in. The three quarters of a second it takes him to process Wanda’s comment is half a second too long, his abort mission not arriving until after the door opens with a very noticeable click 

This is when everything erupts into chaos.

A pillow is thrown through his face simultaneously with a, “What the fuck, dad!” and what sounds like a shriek from Tommy’s bedfellow. Then a blur of green fills the room, Tommy grabbing onto Vision’s semi-transparent waist and hauling him towards the door, just as Vision’s politeness kicks in with a cheerful, “Terribly sorry for interrupting.”

And then they are in the hallway, the door shut behind Tommy, whose face is contorted in rage and breath is uneven. Wanda stands frozen, hands raised and shimmering, her eyes bouncing between Tommy and himself. Tommy only looks at Vision, voice shaking, “What are you doing coming through my wall?”

“Was that,” Vision mentally reconstructs everything as best he can, “was Lisa in there with you?”

All at once the anger is knocked off their son’s face and replaced with a completely fake innocence, “Who’s Lisa?” It doesn’t even take the entire time for Vision’s brows to rise for Tommy to realize the misstep. “I um meant, um,” 

Wanda doesn’t allow him to flounder, oddly. “Is she still in there?”

Perhaps it is the Young Avenger’s training on being interrogated or the fact Tommy’s thoughts are always racing away from responsibility, but he won’t even answer this question, “I don’t um know what you’re talking about.”

A deep, disappointed sigh comes from his wife before she wraps Tommy in red and drags him from the door. “I’m taking her home.” With that she disappears into the room, light peeking out from under the door and muffled words floating through the wood. 

All Vision can do is stare at Tommy, lost in what exactly to say in this situation. Unfortunately, Tommy doesn’t share the same hesitation. “You know Billy does this all the time,” the door to his twin’s room opens slightly, “he just can block mom’s powers from noticing” and then it shuts with an aggrieved click. Wonderful. 

“Um well,” Vision isn’t sure why he falters so gloriously, as a father he’s expected to handle these things and yet this wasn’t in the books he read while Wanda was pregnant nor in the literature on problem behaviors at school, “perhaps you help your mother take Lisa home and we will discuss this in the morning.”

-----

“I think we just ground him for a couple days,” the last word is muffled and more syllables than necessary, ending only when Wanda stifles her yawn. 

This is what she suggested before leaving to take Lisa home and what he has been mulling over until she returned. “But under what rule is he being punished?”

There is not actually any rule thus far uttered in the Maximoff household concerning sneaking in significant others. An oversight, clearly, and yet Vision knows that what happened is wrong, he just cannot find a suitable reason beyond that it feels wrong. “Curfew?”

This he considered. Unless otherwise specified, the boys must be back by 9pm on a school night and 12am on the weekends. “But he was home and we never explicitly specified that curfew applies to their friends or partners.”

Wanda does not suffer this sort of agonizing rumination, “He was hiding it, he knew it was wrong.”

A truth and annoyance because it’s not like they don’t allow their sons alone time when their significant other is over. He recalls and empathizes with the thrill of young love and the need for solitude. Which brings him to the next point of scrutiny, “But does it not feel hypocritical to punish him for this when we broke international law to do the same thing?” 

“I thought you said that was a false equivalency?”

It is, insofar as there are too many confounding variables for their lawbreaking tryst to be considered equal with the current indiscretion and yet…”Tommy will leverage it against us.”

“Good thing he doesn’t know how often we break compound PDA rules...”

Another hypocrisy if they hand down a harsh sentence. “Again, does it not feel incongruous to punish him when we commit the same offense? We did sully the billiard table last week…”

“That was fun.”

“It was.” The way she stretches out, head propped up on her hand and robe fluttering open along her thigh, he’d recidivate in a heartbeat. Which is why he stops his heart long enough to finish their conversation. “But how can we hold him to a higher standard than us, when we, as cognitively mature individuals act similarly? Authoritative parenting requires us to explain the logic of our punishments.”

Their eyes meet in joint contemplation, the weight of the topic forming endearing wrinkles on his wife’s brow. “You say we act similarly,” her voice is steady, distant as if it is hauling the reasoning in though isn’t sure it will make it, “but you always calculate our odds of being caught or harming someone else with our actions.”

It is a structural equation model he keeps to himself, one that even the thought of calculating sends electric thrills along his spine. “I do and we tend to have a threshold set of when it is and is not acceptable.” The billiard table, for instance, had an 87% chance of not being caught and, with proper sanitation, a relatively low impact on others. 

“Do you think Tommy put much thought into tonight?” Knowing their son the extent of effortful planning was likely how to get her into the house. “He seemed surprised when Lisa’s dad was furious.” 

Vision isn’t surprised at the man’s reaction but is perturbed that was not even a thought to Tommy. When entering all the variables into his model, Tommy had a dismal 10% chance of success and a rather high 87.5% chance of harming someone else. “How do we handle this alongside the accusation lobbed at Billy?”

Deviousness parts her lips, hair dancing along her shoulders as she nods, “I have a great idea.”

----

This formation, with mom and dad in the armchairs, hands linked over the chasm between the armrests, and Billy next to him on the couch is the formation of doom. The silence that lays heavy over the room is the warm up to the interrogation. Tommy braces himself for what’s to come. 

“Would you like to explain your reasoning for last night’s actions?” Dad is always so damn calm, irises not even budging to betray any sign of how bad this will go. 

Tommy knows there isn’t a right answer here, and honestly, he doesn’t exactly have a good reason and annoyingly Billy played dumb last night when he begged him for advice. Apparently throwing him under the bus was an asshole move. After the bad lie last night, Who’s Lisa a fantastic way to piss everyone off (especially Lisa), he defaults to short and sweet (fingers crossed) honesty. “Thought it would be fun.” It was, until dad interrupted. 

There’s no immediate response, not even a blink, the entire room focused on his continued idiocy. “I see.” That’s never what he wants to hear from dad. 

“You two have to understand that!” His arms sputter about, trying to drag their attention to what they all know. “At least I’m not breaking the law.”

Mom scowls. Shit. “Very different circumstances.” 

“Yeah, yours was way worse.” No no no, why can he not just shut up like Billy, that Grecian statue next to him, ramrod straight and eyes dead to the world. 

The shared look, one that means the infamous mind voodoo is at play, an entire conversation occurring between mom and dad that only he can’t access, assuming Billy is brave enough to tap into it. If he is, he’s not sharing with Tommy. “You are right.”

Wait…”What?”

Dad isn’t capable of something so casual as a shrug, but the leisurely blink of his eyes and dip of his chin is roughly equivalent. “We understand the reasoning. Your mother and I are intimately,” gross, “familiar with the thrill of skirting rules of affection.”

If this isn’t his punishment, heaven help him. “No details needed.”

Billy’s “Please,” is practically silent. 

Mom smirks and he fears the worst, until she speaks, “Which is why we aren’t grounding you,” hallelujah, “this time,” fair enough. “But going forward you can’t do this. Either of you.” 

An I hate you drops into his mind. Tommy tries to send back a No you don’t but Billy has already shuttered their connection. “Agreed, so…” Tommy stands from the couch, hands brushing away the discomfort of the meeting, “we’re good, right?”

Dad’s “No,” ties itself around his waist and yanks him back onto the cushion. “Given Lisa was not so fortunate in her punishment,” she’s been forbidden from seeing him again, but Tommy isn’t planning on abiding by that, assuming she wants to see him again, “I believe a long talk about respect for your partner and the need for consensual, in depth decision making when it comes to risk taking is in order. You both are still too young and cognitively immature to fully weigh impulsiveness and so we would like to walk through a variety of scenarios to work through this topic.”

He’d rather die. “Can I just be grounded instead?”

Scarlet outlines mom’s pupils as she stares him down, “No.”

Dad clears his throat, needlessly pulling a painfully thick packet of stapled papers from behind him. The transition into his academic voice is only the first sign that their torture will be unrelenting. “Scenario 1: you and your paramour are driving down the road when they suggest a rather risqué activity…”

Tommy accepts that today marks the loss of his soul and all ability to feel alive, all to the chorus of Billy’s reaffirmation in his mind: I hate you so much. 

[cuuno-moved]

hermitbur chapter 2, i guess.

part one

tws: panic attacks, implied sh

Wilbur woke up to clean sheets, and a slight breeze coming through the window. The air smelled a bit like vanilla, and even without opening his eyes, he could see the early morning sunlight settling on his face.

He sighed, breathing in deeply, and felt his muscles relax. This was nice…

He hadn’t felt this relaxed in years, he realised, not since-

His eyes flew open, and his body jolted upright, sending pain throughout his ribcage, and he gasped, leaning to the side, curling in on himself.

He wore a new, clean sweater- a blue-grey one that hung a bit loose on his wiry frame- but they had left his tattered jeans alone. It felt like there were bandages wound around his chest, and up his arms, and his hair felt clean.

He scowled, shoving himself up into a sitting position. The room was large, and bright, with large windows set in the clean white walls. A large painting hung over a coffee table at the other side of the room. The floor was covered in a soft looking brown carpet, and the bed was twin sized, with a tall, elegant headboard. He noticed railings set up along the wall, as well as a wheelchair in the corner.

A hospital? No, it didn’t have that sterile, empty feeling. So what? A prison?

Suddenly, two people walked in, chatting quietly.

One was a woman, tall and thin, with long blond hair that was slung over her shoulder, held back with a pair of goggles. Her arms were crossed, her lips thin, but something about her was warm, inviting.

The other was a man, a painfully familiar one at that. He was tall too, but not as tall as the woman, or Wilbur. His nose was buried under a pile of bandages and plasters, but up this close, Wilbur could see the thin scars tracing his jaw, marring his lips, curving along his cheekbone. His sandy brown hair was just a little too long, brushing his collar, and his leg braces creaked as he shifted on his feet.

For a moment, Wilbur wondered if throwing himself out a window would be a wise idea until he saw the axe strapped to the woman’s back.

They both looked up at the same time, eyes landing on Wilbur, and glanced at each other, before the woman frowned, uncrossing her arms and stepping forward, slowly.

“Hallo…”

“Hey.” He rasped, wincing at the sound of his own voice.

The woman glanced at the man, who shrugged helplessly, before running a hand down her face. “Okay… okay, what’s your name, let’s start with that.”

“...Will. Will Watson.”

Her bright blue eyes darted over him, watching for any sign of deceit, before she nodded. “I'm False. This is my friend, Scar.”

Wilbur nodded jerkily to them, eyes catching on Scar’s face for a moment too long before glancing away. “Sorry about… y’know…”

Scar chuckled, uneasily. “Oh, it’s alright, I startled you.”

“Still shouldn't have punched you."

The room was silent and tense for a moment, before False sighed. "Are you feeling alright, Will?"

He hesitated, thinking. His ribs were sore, and his chest ached, and his back burned, and his wrists were itchy, but it didn't hurt as much as it did before, in Pogtopia, when his whole body felt like it was being crushed under the weight of the world, so he nodded. "Yeah, I'm alright."

She frowned at that, brows drawing together in disbelief. "You had a cut in your chest. Not too bad, but… it was bleeding."

Somewhere in Wilbur's mind, he smelled smoke and heard the scrape of a sword against leather and felt the blade sprout from his chest, but he didn't say anything, just shrugged.

Her scowl deepened and he braced himself to run, but she looked more concerned than anything, her lips pressing in an expression so reminiscent of Phil's, just before…

Scar shifted uncomfortably, dull green eyes darting between them. He was no fighter, Wilbur recognized that. They had similar builds, long legs and a long torso, like stretched taffy. He looked a bit sickly too, like a good wind would put him down for a week, his eyes rimmed in red, his fingers almost blue. This was no fighter, this was a talker.

Wilbur could take him, if he needed. If it came down to that, he could probably use him as a shield, at least.

His staring hadn't gone unnoticed. False had shifted between the men, staring Wilbur down with narrowed eyes.

The silence was almost unbearable, and Wilbur almost spoke, before a sudden thud echoed through the room, coming from the roof. Wilbur tensed, eyeing the other two for any reaction, but False's face was set in a stern glare and Scar looked… relieved?

Reinforcements. They had been waiting for reinforcements, and now they were here, and he was going to die.

Ignoring the way his legs felt like damp noodles, he shoved himself off the bed, collapsing almost immediately.

Scar yelped, stepping towards him, but he pushed himself up from the floor, leaning against the wall. He knew this game, he was a politician after all. Kill them with kindness, smother them with sweetness, fuck em up with friendship and when their guards are down, put an axe through their fucking skull.

He had pressed himself in a corner gazing at the two strangers, his mind running a million miles a minute. If he moved quickly, he could grab Scar, shove him to the ground, run past them.

Footsteps echoed through the building, heavy but quick, and he went to move, just as the door was flung open, and he froze.

A man stood in the doorway, sharp eyes staring him down. His hair was white, but he looked in his thirties at oldest, although the gas mask that covered his face made it hard to tell. A wicked scar ran over his right eye, rendering it blind, a dull grey color in comparison to the other, which was a bright chocolate brown. He wore what appeared to be a bulletproof vest, lined with fur and pockets. He stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene, before he moved forward, muttering something to False, who nodded stiffly and stepped back.

The new man moved closer to Wilbur, slowly, gently, reaching forward.

He flinched back, his shoulders slamming into the wall, and he suddenly realised his wings were exposed, the thin iridescent material pressed against the concrete wall.

The man crouched in front of him slowly raising his hands like he was talking to a scared animal.

Wilbur didn't move, didn't speak, just stared, his whole body tense to the point of pain. He knew what was going on. The man was going to kill him. He was obviously well built, even if he wasn't obviously armed, he had to have a knife hidden on him, somewhere.

"Can you tell me your name?" The man asked quietly.

Wilbur didn't speak.

”He says his name's Will Watson." False said, flicking a lock of golden hair from her eyes.

The man didn't look at her, eyes fixed on the still-panicking elytrian. "Is that your name? Will?"

Wilbur nodded, jerkily, before freezing. If they found out he was lying…

"No," He gasped. "No, that's not… that's not my real name."

The man blinked. "Okay… okay, that's alright, you don't have tell us your real name if you don't want to-"

"'S Wilbur. Soot. I'm General Wilbur Soot."

As soon as he said it, his chest panged, and he curled in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut. General… that's not a rank he'd held in years, but it was sweet on his lips, like something he'd almost forgotten, and he hated that more than anything.

"Okay, Wilbur? You're having a panic attack. Can I touch you?"

Wilbur's mouth opened but all that came out was a low whine, like a kicked dog. He settled on nodding, and then two arms wrapped around him, gently.

He tensed up almost immediately, expecting the familiar feeling of steel, but there was nothing.

The man wasn't Phil.

Phil smelled of vanilla and wood smoke and damp stone in the summer, this man smelled almost acrid, like redstone and soldering and sweat.

Phil wore soft, silky clothes that felt like home and gentle hugs. This man wore rough clothes, built for action.

Phil hugged tight, in a way that felt safe, like the world couldn't get him, as long as he stayed in his father's arms. This man was gentle, careful, one hand cupping the back of Wilbur's head, one settled between his wings.

This wasn't Phil.

Later on, he'd wince in embarrassment when he thought of this moment, sobbing in the arms of a complete stranger because said complete stranger didn't remind him of his father, but in the moment, he was too tired to be embarrassed.

When he looked up, Scar and False were gone, the room empty other than him and the man.

"Shit, sorry," He muttered, rubbing at his face. "That was dumb."

"It's alright," The man said gently. "You're alright."

Wilbur snorted, shaking his head. "Don't even your name."

The man jolted, laughing in surprise. "Oh, you're right! I'm Etho."

"Why does everyone have such dumb names?" Wilbur muttered.

Etho's eyes crinkled in a smile. "Oh, you haven't met Beef yet…"

Wilbur frowned. "Yet? You're not going to make me leave?"

"Leave?" Etho scowled. "Why would we make you leave?"

"I showed up out of nowhere, broke your friend's nose and passed out on your beach," Wilbur chuckled humorlessly. "Why would you let me stay?"

"Do you have anywhere else to sleep tonight?"

"No."

"Then you'll stay tonight," Etho smiled. "Or longer, if you need to. You're injured, and obviously lost, plus… plus you're obviously not in the best place mentally…"

Wilbur scowled, his fingers pressing against the bandages wound around his wrists. "I'm fine."

Etho raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Alright. Stay for Scar at least. He's been worried sick about you."

"I broke his nose…"

"Yeah, that happens," Etho nodded. "Please, stay."

Wilbur eyed him, frowning a bit.

No one had ever asked him to stay anywhere. He'd always shown up, carved a home for himself, fought tooth and nail, and then got kicked out. To have someone ask him to stick around…

"Fine. I'll stay. Just for tonight."

Etho smiled, and Wilbur couldn't help but feel that for once in his life, he'd made the right choice.

[arrowofcarnations]

I’m Gonna Thrill You Tonight

Written for the eleventh day of Fic-O-Ween 2020, the Halloween-themed Sweater Weather/Coast to Coast fest organized by the wonderful M @opaleyedragon. This was such an awesome idea—thank you for putting this together so well and so quickly!

Thank you a million times over to SW & C2C author Hazel @lumosinlove for letting us play in her universe with her incredible characters. And a huge thanks to the lovely people of the SW discord for their support, encouragement, and inspiration. Y’all are the best hype squad a girl could ask for!

Title yanked from one of the all-time greatest Halloween jams, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” Enjoy, goblins and ghoulies~

(Note: This work is rated E, so avert your eyes if you are a minor, please!)

~

It was Halloween night, and Finn O’Hara was going to die.

“Knutty won’t let you die,” Logan replied with a grin. “He’ll literally figure out how to resurrect you just so he has help with the food.”

Finn watched Logan watching himself in the bedroom mirror, turning this way and that as his green eyes looked over his costume. “No, I mean like—” Finn flung a hand out in Logan’s direction, making an up and down motion. “Look at you. Look at you.”

Logan’s amused smile slid into something more devious as he turned around to face Finn. The Batman costume he’d bought for this year’s team Halloween party was far more family-friendly than the one he’d worn at Harvard all those years ago, but it was still tight, the black spandex of the jumpsuit stretching over his broad chest and thighs in ways that were making it impossible for Finn to think about putting cupcakes on platters and filling the candy bowl downstairs for the neighborhood trick-or-treaters.

He crossed the room to put his hands on Finn’s hips, holding him there as he leaned up and brushed his lips against Finn’s in a barely-there kiss. “Who knew you had such a thing for Batman, eh?” he teased.

Finn huffed out a laugh, catching Logan in a firmer kiss that lingered as he let his hands roam up Logan’s arms and down his back, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric. “I have a thing for you as Batman,” he said, which was true to a maybe-embarrassing degree. He could feel the heat of those green eyes, sharp and intense as they peered at him through the dark mask, going straight to a hallowed place just below the plastic yellow belt of his Robin costume.

Logan’s smile widened at the admission and he gave Finn a playful butt tap, the same way he’d do on the ice. After a moment, though, his mouth fell into a more serious line, brows knitting in thought.

“What?” Finn asked, sensing the shift in mood.

“No, just…” Logan bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes searched Finn’s. “This—me in this costume—it’s not making you sad, right?”

Finn’s heart pulled a little at that—seeing Logan in the cape and cowl again had, unsurprisingly, brought up a lot of old memories—but he meant it when he smiled at Logan and shook his head no. “It’s not,” he murmured, giving Logan’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “It might’ve a year ago, maybe, but now…” He pressed his hands to the expanse of Logan’s chest, palms warmed by the heat of Logan’s body. “I can touch you the way I want. And tell you I love you. And that you make a fucking hot Batman.”

Logan was smiling again, the worry smoothed out of his face. He leaned in to kiss the hollow of Finn’s throat, the press of it more tender than teasing. “D’accord. Bon.”

“Da-core. Bone.”

Logan groaned like Finn had just told an awful joke, but he was fighting a grin even as he shook his head. “Please don’t,” he said. “Your accent hurts me.”

“Hey, Batman and Robin, let’s hustle,” Leo called, his footsteps in the hall getting louder until he was joining them in the room. “Everybody’s on their way.”

Finn and Logan looked over at him, their mouths falling open simultaneously. Finn wasn’t sure what he’d imagined when Leo had told them he’d be dressing up as Poison Ivy, but any mental images he’d enjoyed over the past week or two paled in comparison to the real thing.

The real thing was standing in his bedroom, all six-feet-three-inches of him, his tight green jumpsuit adorned with leaves and twisting vines that were thicker in strategic places. His shoes were the same color, blending into the rest of the outfit and making his already-long legs look like they went on forever. Finn’s mouth watered as his eyes trailed down the low (low, low) V-cut of the suit down those mile-long legs and back up again to Leo’s face. He was looking at them expectantly, one eyebrow raised beneath a halo of blond, leaf-strewn curls.

Logan cleared his throat. “Holy…”

“Shit,” Finn finished for him, voice low and emphatic. “Look. At. You.”

Watching Leo’s expression morph from confused to surprised to flattered made Finn’s heart swell. He didn’t know how Leo could be at all surprised by their reaction, given what he was wearing, but the earnest flush rising on his cheeks told Finn he hadn’t quite been expecting to drop any jaws.

“No time,” Leo said with a head shake, but he was smiling brightly under the glow of their praise. “Dumo and Celeste are like, five minutes away. If we start this now…”

But Finn was already crossing the room to Leo, needing to be closer, needing to touch. “We’ll never go downstairs, because we’ll spend the rest of the night worshipping you,” he said, letting his fingertips trail down the bare stretch of skin from Leo’s throat to the end of his sternum.

“Ouais,” Logan hummed in agreement, coming up to stand on Leo’s opposite side and nip playfully at his earlobe, chasing it with a kiss. “Très sexy, Nut.”

“Oh god.” Leo was laughing and taking a step back, hands on each of their shoulders to keep them at bay, but the flush on his cheeks that was now working its way down his neck gave him away. Finn smiled; he loved a flustered Leo, loved being the one to fluster him. “No time.”

“You said five minutes,” Logan said, undeterred.

“Yeah,” Finn added. “I can work with five minutes. We all know Lo can work with five minutes.”

Finn laughed as Logan gave his shoulder a shove. Leo just shook his head again. Then his smile slanted a bit, looking more like a smirk, as his eyes traveled from Logan to Finn and back again. “Later,” he said, voice low and full of promise. “When we have hours, not minutes.” He kissed them, one after the other, and said, “Come on, I’m not letting these cupcakes burn!”

Leo was already out the door as Finn and Logan looked at each other with raised brows.

“We’re making him wear that every fucking year,” Logan said.

Finn kissed him through a smile. “Oh, yeah. And not just on Halloween. Birthdays, anniversaries, days that end in Y…”

~

Leo was glad they’d volunteered to host this year. Since he and Finn had been roommates before getting together, and they’d already been living together when Logan moved in, they’d never thrown the kind of housewarming party that other newly shacked-up people in relationships often did. It was always fun when the whole team could get together like this with their families, and the fact that it was here, in this space Leo now shared with both his loves, made it that much sweeter.

That was the last coherent thought Leo had before the chaos of the night began. Not two seconds after he got the last of the food set out, the entryway filled with the sound of “Happy Halloween!” being shouted in unison by the entire Dumais clan. By the time Leo reached them, the kids were already all over Logan, chattering a mile a minute and showing him the candy haul they’d collected so far. Finn hugged Celeste and fist bumped Pascal before he was jogging down the front steps to help James and Lily, who’d just pulled up with baby Harry and some party supplies in tow.

“This is exciting,” Celeste said, kissing Leo’s cheek as she took off her coat to reveal her classic Wonder Woman costume underneath. “We’re finally the ones visiting you three.”

“Oui, we’ll see if Logan’s gotten any neater since his time under our roof,” Pascal, who was decked out as Superman, added.

“A little,” Leo said, smiling as he thought about how Logan had started making his bed and throwing clothes into drawers whenever he knew the three of them would be sleeping in his room. “Not in hotels, though—it still looks like a hurricane blew through when we’re on roadies.”

“Hey Knutty, Tremz,” James said, pulling the mask on his Spider-Man costume over his head to give them the full effect and spreading his arms. “Awesome, right? We should theme these things every year. Whose idea was heroes and villains?”

“Finn’s,” Leo said before Lily came up behind them, Finn trailing a bit behind her with the bags. She looked spot-on in her Mary Jane costume, and had Harry—dressed as the only spider Leo could ever call cute—balanced on her hip.

“Oh, hello,” Lily said, raising her eyebrows before going in for a one-armed hug. “You’re putting us all to shame, Poison Ivy.”

“Right?!” Finn yelled from the top of the steps. Logan said it at the same time, shooting Leo a wink as he put Katie up on his shoulders. It warmed Leo’s chest like it did every time, and he suspected that would never change.

Over the next hour, more and more people showed up until the entire team was packed into Leo, Logan, and Finn’s place. By the time Leo was pouring himself a second cup of punch, the party was well and truly underway. The players and their families were eating, drinking, and chatting, complimenting and chirping each other’s costume choices in equal measure; tiny fingers grabbed fistfuls of candy from the bowls scattered throughout the living room, hallway, and kitchen; and orange and purple string lights cast a festive glow through the decorated house.

Thriller was playing through the sound system Finn had recently set up downstairs, and Leo watched on as James—Peter Parker’s Spider-Man—and Thomas—Miles Morales’s Spider-Man—tried to have a dance-off to decide whose costume was superior. (Tried being the operative word, as James’s list of talents did not include dancing.) Lily had her palm over her face, and Noelle, looking cute as Gwen Stacy, was laughing beside her.

It made Leo want to play the observer for another minute or two, to commit this night to memory. He made his way around the living room, sipping his drink as he went. He smiled as he caught sight of Kasey, appropriately dressed up as Mr. Freeze, and chatted with him for a couple of minutes before leaving him at the mercy of Natalie, grinning and tipsy and objectively stunning in her Catwoman suit. The only couple getting more handsy than them was Sirius and Remus. Sirius, ever the captain, had shown up as Captain America, and Remus had his arms wrapped around his back underneath the shield resting there as they kissed in the far corner of the room. Sirius pulled back to nose at Remus’s jaw and Remus laughed when he saw his face, swiping a hand across Sirius’s cheek. Leo realized Sirius was covered in smudges of black where Remus’s Winter Soldier eye makeup had rubbed off on his skin.

Heat trickled in Leo’s gut as he thought about what Logan and Finn would look like wearing that makeup—what they’d look like if Leo wore that makeup and made out with them in a dark corner, gray-black marks smeared over their cheeks, their mouths. He blinked and took a long drink from the plastic cup in his hand, shelving that distracting mental image even as he vowed to find a costume that required eyeliner for next year.

“Gross, isn’t it?” a voice beside him said. Leo turned to see Regulus, who just rolled his eyes and shook his head a bit at the lovebirds across the way. “Like, I’m happy for them and everything, but do they have to do this all the time? Don’t their lips ever go numb?”

Leo laughed and, noticing Regulus’s cup was empty, passed him his own half-full one with a look that said, here, you’ll need this. He didn’t have siblings, but he guessed just about everyone would feel how Regulus did when it came to their brother’s PDA. He’d noticed that Regulus seemed genuinely baffled by kissing and sex in general, though, and wondered not for the first time if Regulus experienced that kind of attraction. Now wasn’t the time to get into it, so Leo chirped him for his Loki costume instead, flicking one of the wings on his helmet. “Nice antennae.”

“Nice chest hair,” Regulus quipped back. “Did the zipper fall off that thing, or?”

Leo laughed loudly, which made Regulus laugh, and they passed the cup of punch back and forth for a few minutes, talking about hockey, travel schedules, the upcoming holidays. Eventually the Dumais kids found Regulus and started asking him to go, tugging on his cape and hoisting their pillowcases over their shoulders.

“Trick-or-treating duty,” Regulus said by way of explanation before herding (or being herded by) his charges out the front door. As Leo watched them leave, he caught sight of someone he didn’t recognize; a woman who looked maybe a few years older than him with dark skin and criss-crossing goddess braids that rested over the plates of her Valkyrie armor.

She walked over to another woman dressed as Captain Marvel, putting a hand on the small of her back as she talked to—Finn, Leo realized. Captain Marvel gave Finn a brief hug, and Finn said something that made both women laugh before heading into the kitchen. When they turned around, Leo recognized her as June. He’d known she was coming; Finn had suggested inviting her once they knew they were hosting, and Leo and Logan had agreed—Leo perhaps a little more readily than Logan. Leo understood that. He hadn’t had much time to feel anything other than confusion about June, but Logan had been wildly jealous—had been set up by her and Finn to be jealous—and it was clear the thought of her still rankled him slightly.

June and her—friend?—found Logan in the crowd, and Leo raised his eyebrows, taking a few steps toward that side of the room to head off any potential awkwardness, but decided to see how it played out first.

“Hey, Nutter Butter,” Finn said as he came up behind him, tilting his head to press a kiss to the side of Leo’s neck. He pressed a fresh drink into Leo’s hand before following Leo’s gaze across the room. “Uh oh. You think he’s okay over there?”

Leo hummed an affirmative, kissing Finn’s mouth briefly. “I think so,” he said. “I can jump in if things get tense. I think he’s fine, though, Harz.”

And it did seem that way; Logan definitely looked awkward, his smile somewhat forced, but then June said something to him that loosened him up and pulled a small, real grin out of him. Finn let out a breath Leo guessed he’d been holding, and he rested his head against Leo’s for a moment, temple to temple.

“I’m glad,” he said, stepping back to look at Leo. “I wouldn’t bring her around if you guys weren’t completely, 100-percent good with it, but I’m glad you are.” He paused, looking at Leo questioningly.

“I am,” Leo confirmed. “You should ask Logan again later, but I’m sure he’ll say the same thing.”

Finn nodded, taking an absentminded sip of his drink. A shadow of something flickered across his face, and Leo put a hand on the back of his neck, thumb rubbing small circles against the soft skin behind his ear. “He forgives you for all that,” Leo murmured. “You know he does. Don’t keep punishing yourself, sweetheart.”

Finn whined at the endearment, tilting his head back into the touch before shaking his head as if to clear it. “Why you gotta be so cute when you read my mind, Honeynut?” he said with a grin that compelled Leo to kiss him again. “Okay, so. June’s here, and she’s cool, and her girlfriend is cool, too, and I’m happy.”

Girlfriend, Leo thought. That answered that question. He let his free hand brush Finn’s hair back and kissed his forehead just above his Robin mask. “I’m happy, too,” he said. He was warm from the drinks, from his costume, from Finn’s body heat. Warm from Logan’s laugh traveling across the room. Warm from the happiness that filled his chest, so much fuller than Leo’d ever imagined it could be. “Love you, Fish.”

Warm from the brightness of Finn’s smile. “Love you, too.”

~

Logan was feeling good. He was a few rum and cokes in, maybe a little tipsy, and smiling as he caught up with Celeste and Pascal. He still saw them all the time, but it was different now that he wasn’t living with them, and he was glad to have a chance to spend that extra time with them—particularly Celeste, since there was always time during practice and travel to talk to Dumo.

He was grabbing a snack from a nearby table—he didn’t want to get too drunk, not before Leo could make good on his promise from earlier—when a “Hi, Logan” made him look up.

June. June and someone he didn’t know, both of them looking at him and smiling expectantly.

While he was fine with June coming—he knew she and Finn had stayed friends, and he trusted Finn completely—he’d sort of been hoping to avoid running into her after the impression he made at Christmas, at family skate. They hadn’t been his finest moments, and he still felt flickers of jealousy over her, though it was somewhat removed from him now, more like an echo.

“Hey, June,” Logan said with a nod and thin smile. “Nice costume. Yours, too, uh…”

“Amalia,” June said, gesturing to the woman in the Valkyrie costume as she extended her hand to Logan. “My girlfriend. ‘Malia, this is Finn’s boyfriend.”

“Ah, the famous Logan,” Amalia said with a warm smile and a firm handshake. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Part of Logan’s mind was stuck on girlfriend, but he gave a small, awkward laugh, looking nervously between them. “Famous? That doesn’t sound too good.”

“Oh, no,” Amalia said with a reassuring wave of her hand. “I just meant, I’m finally meeting the guy Finn talks to June about nonstop. Well, one of the guys.”

June hummed in agreement through a sip of her own drink. From this close, Logan could smell the boozy mix—mostly tequila, maybe some lime, too—and a hazy memory of him, Finn, and Leo doing body shots off each other after last season’s finals win swam briefly through his mind. “We’ll have to find Leo later and say hi,” June said to Amalia before looking back at Logan. “Thanks for inviting us. This is the most fun I’ve had on Halloween since...probably ever.”

“Same,” Logan said. “And yeah, no problem.”

June hesitated for a second, then seemed to make up her mind as she added, “And sorry for, you know. All the times we’ve met before now.”

That, combined with the sight of June’s free hand resting against the small of Amalia’s back in the almost-unconscious way Finn always did with him, pulled a real smile out of Logan, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Those were definitely less fun,” he said. “But it’s okay. It’s all good now.”

June’s smile was open and genuine as she said, “Yeah, seems that way, doesn’t it? It all worked out.” Her gaze was nothing short of adoring as she looked at Amalia, both of them grinning at each other as Amalia sipped her drink. “Still, I felt like I should apologize. The whole ‘going to family skate with Finn’ thing was mostly my idea. I thought, you know, this dude needs a fire lit under his ass! He needs to get a little jealous! But I’m pretty sure all it did was make you both miserable.”

“You were right, though,” Logan said before he could stop himself. He hadn’t planned on spilling his guts to his boyfriend’s ex tonight. Maybe the rum had loosened him up a little more than he’d thought, or maybe he was starting to like June despite himself, but he decided he could afford to let his guard down just a bit. “I did need a fire under me. It took a couple more matches, but eventually I woke up.”

June pursed her lips against a smile, giving Logan’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “I’m glad you did,” she said. “I can tell how happy Finn is. He’s crazy about you guys.”

Logan’s eyes searched the crowded room until they landed on Finn, beautiful and ridiculous in his Robin costume with his mouth trailing kisses up Leo’s neck and jaw, pulling a dimpled smile out of Leo. He wondered if he’d ever be able to look across a room at them and not be blown away by his love, by his own wild luck.

“I’m crazy about them,” he murmured half to himself, rubbing the heel of his hand absently over his full heart.

~

Later, Logan was sidestepping spiderwebs and skeletons to make his way to his bedroom. The house was quiet and still, the last few guests having poured themselves into taxis about twenty minutes ago, and he was dying to get out of his snug, overly warm costume and crawl under the covers with his boys. Just as he was unclipping the utility belt to slide it off his hips, he heard the bedroom door swing open a little further and the click of Finn’s black boots as he walked up behind him.

“Hey, don’t take that off yet,” Finn said lowly, arms snaking around Logan’s waist as he pressed his chest against Logan’s back. Logan sighed as Finn kissed the nape of his neck with a slow tenderness. He let his head fall forward to give Finn better access, closing his eyes and letting everything fall away that wasn’t Finn’s body solid against his, Finn’s mouth hot on his skin.

“I’m sweating in this thing,” Logan complained, but made no move to pull away from Finn or take off the costume. He changed tactics, turning in Finn’s arms to kiss him properly. “What, you don’t want me naked?”

“No, I do, I do,” Finn said, letting his hands trail up Logan’s abs and chest to rest on his shoulders. He did that a few more times, running his hands over Logan’s body as though to make sure he was really standing there. There was something in his expression Logan couldn’t quite read.

“Quoi?”

Finn stilled as he turned his brown eyes up to Logan’s, looking at him in a way that made Logan feel like he was naked already, all of him exposed for Finn to see. It used to be scary, being on the receiving end of that look from him, but Logan saw Finn now, too. Really saw him. “I’m just thinking,” Finn said like he was choosing his words carefully, “About all the things I wanted the last time I saw you in this costume. Everything I wanted to say to you, do to you.”

Logan’s heart ached at that. “Finn,” he started, frowning.

Finn held up a hand. “No,” he said gently, smiling. “It’s okay. I just meant...I loved you then, even when I’d barely known you three months. And I love you more now. So...leave it on? Just for a minute.” His hands found Logan’s hips, thumb circling precisely over the fleur-de-lis tattoo hiding under the material of the costume. That he could find it without even glancing down sent heat spiking through Logan’s body, and he splayed his own hands across Finn’s back underneath his red vest. Finn leaned in to kiss him, but before he closed the distance, he whispered, “Let me do all those things I thought about for so long.”

Unable to wait another second, Logan pitched forward, crashing their mouths together. They kissed until their lips were swollen and bitten-red, hands roaming and feet stumbling backwards until Finn’s back collided with the dresser drawers by the bed. Seeing an opportunity, Logan wrapped his arms around Finn more securely, lifted him off the ground and sat him on top of the dresser in one smooth motion.

When he pulled back, Finn just smiled at him bewilderedly, letting his head fall back against the wall. “Fuck,” Finn said, huffing out a breathless laugh as he blinked at the ceiling.

The cheap costume fabric was doing nothing to hide the outline of Finn’s hardening cock, and Logan his lip as he eyed it, palming his own dick briefly. The dynamic between them was always shifting depending on the mood, but Logan didn’t usually throw Finn onto pieces of furniture. Judging by Finn’s reaction, he was thinking he should do it more often. “Yeah? Tu aimes ça?” Logan asked, lips against Finn’s neck.

Finn had heard that phrase enough times to know its meaning. “Uh, yeah,” he said like it was obvious. “That was fucking hot, Lo. Didn’t know you could lift me that easy.”

“I bench more than you weigh,” Logan chirped back even as he kissed a trail over Finn’s collarbone.

Finn was still for a moment, and Logan thought maybe he was just having too good a time to respond, but then he sprung into action, hopping off the dresser and hauling Logan into his arms. A startled laugh burst out of Logan as Finn walked them over to the bed and threw him onto it, his back bouncing as he hit the mattress.

Their laughter slid into moans as they wrestled playfully for control, pressing each other down with their body weight and getting more and more distracted by their sloppy, heated kisses. Logan let himself be bracketed by Finn’s arms and legs, pinned by a pair of brown eyes that no longer had any trace of sadness in them. Logan reached behind Finn’s head to pull the tie of his mask free, tossing the fabric aside. Then he did the same with his own mask.

“Want to see all of you, mon rouge,” Logan said, stroking a thumb across Finn’s freckled cheek.

Finn leaned into it, smiling like there was nowhere else he’d rather be, and kissed him again.

~

They were tangled up in each other like that, touching and kissing and slowly rocking their hips against each other, when footsteps approached from down the hall, stopping beside the bed.

“I was gonna suggest we take a shower first, but…” Leo trailed off, eyes trailing over them both. “This is good. This is really good.”

“Hey, baby,” Finn smiled as Leo knelt on the bedspread, one hand going to tangle in Logan’s hair and the other pressed to the center of Finn’s back. He and Leo met each other in a kiss, and Leo hummed as he felt Logan’s hand creeping up his thigh to tease at his still-soft cock, obscured by the layers of his costume.

“Leo,” Logan said, sounding so genuinely delighted by his presence that Leo momentarily forgot about all the sex he wanted to have and just smiled at him, heart flipping in his chest. He bent over to kiss him soundly. “Logan,” he said back, smiling widely. “I promised you hours, didn’t I?”

“Oui,” Logan nodded, squeezing the swell of muscle above Leo’s knee. “Time for plenty of showers.”

Leo laughed, then turned his head as he felt Finn cradle his jaw. “Those fucking dimples,” Finn mumbled half to himself, “Kill me every time.”

Leo let Finn kiss him for a few heady moments, just feeling the two of them, feeling out the mood. He pulled back to look at their position, Finn on top of Logan and Leo knelt beside them both, and suddenly knew what he wanted.

“Take the rest of his costume off, Fish,” Leo murmured. He brushed a hand over Finn’s still-clothed cock and felt him twitch, heard his shaky inhale. “Then yours. Show him how hard he’s making you.”

It was a little bit of a gamble; though this side of Leo had come out more than a few times by now with Logan, he hadn’t yet tried giving orders to Finn in bed. He knew Finn liked to top, to be in control and throw himself into making his partners feel good—he knew that was what made Finn feel good—but he didn’t intend to boss Finn around quite the same way as he might with Logan.

“Would you like that, Tremz?” Leo added, brushing a thumb across Logan’s lips. Logan nodded, groaning. He kissed the pad of Leo’s thumb, green eyes darting between the two of them.

Seeing how much Logan was already into it made Finn’s eyes go wide and dark, and he hurried to get Logan naked as quickly as possible. Leo smiled to himself as he unzipped his own costume, happy his instincts seemed to have been right.

When the last scraps of fabric were on the floor, nothing but miles of bare skin between them, Leo stretched out on his side next to Logan, who was looking up at Finn walking himself forward on his knees. Finn straddled him again, closing a hand around Logan’s cock. Logan moaned and rolled his hips and fuck, Leo could watch Finn bring him off like that and be perfectly content, but he had other plans.

He wrapped a hand around his own dick, which was filling fast, and looked at Logan’s flushed face on the pillow beside him. Logan kissed him fiercely, like he hadn’t had the chance in weeks, and Leo moaned into his mouth, twitching in his own hand. He bit Logan’s bottom lip gently, then less gently, and Logan made a pleased sound, chasing Leo’s mouth as he pulled away.

Leo ran his knuckles down Logan’s cheek, overcome with fondness for this boy who’d had thicker walls than anyone Leo had ever met and was now so quick to show affection, to lay his heart bare in front of them. After a moment, he recovered himself enough to remember his plan and said in the steadiest voice he could manage, “Shhh, sweetheart. I know what you want. You want to suck Finn’s cock. You want to have him in your mouth. Right?”

“Oh, fuck. Oui, yes,” Logan said. Leo heard Finn swear under his breath, too, and he knew he had them. He looked at Finn. “Go on, Harzy. Give him what he wants.”

Finn shifted to plant his knees on either side of Logan’s head as Logan propped himself up on the pillows. He paused to catch Leo’s mouth in a bruising kiss before gripping himself at the base and slowly inching into Logan’s mouth, careful not to choke him. Logan couldn’t take Finn as deeply in this position, but that didn’t seem to matter; Logan groaned loudly, fingers digging into Finn’s thighs, and Leo’s heart stuttered in his chest as he saw Finn’s expression. He looked wrecked, his red hair a riot and a deep, rosy flush working its way down his face and neck.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing. Then Leo pushed himself up to kneel behind Finn, kissing and biting at his neck and shoulders. He steadied Finn’s hips with his hands, then pushed them forward slightly, causing his cock to slide further into Logan’s mouth.

“Knutty,” Finn gasped, reaching around to give Leo’s ass a squeeze. “Holy shit.”

“That’s it,” Leo said, starting to build up a rhythm until he was gently rocking Finn in and out of Logan. He kept one hand on Finn’s hip, guiding, while he reached the other behind himself to take Logan’s dripping cock in his hand. “Just like this. He loves it, Finn. He’s so hard, leaking all over himself. I can feel it.”

Logan was practically writhing beneath them, hands in a white-knuckled grip on Leo and Finn’s thighs as Finn fed him his cock and Leo jerked him off. The position was awkward, and Leo knew he wouldn’t be able to stay there long, but he kept it up until the muscles in his arm started to protest the angle. He shifted backwards until he could lower himself between Logan’s legs, licking a stripe up his length. Logan cried out around Finn, and Finn looked over his shoulder to see what Leo was doing, biting his lip around a groan.

“Wanna make him come like this?” Leo asked, raising an eyebrow as he smiled at Finn.

Finn, who had stilled as he turned his attention to Leo, nodded quickly. “Only if I can make you come next,” he said, flashing a grin that sent heat spiking through Leo. Logan pinched Finn’s ass, startling an “ow!” out of him.

“Allez,” Logan urged after pulling his mouth off Finn’s cock. His voice was already shot, and Leo had to give his own heavy cock a squeeze at the sound.

Finn smiled down at Logan, touching his leaking tip to Logan’s swollen, spit-slicked lips. Logan opened his mouth immediately, teasing the head the way he knew drove Finn wild every time, and they fell back into their rhythm, Logan taking Finn as far as he could manage. Leo’s focus turned to Logan’s cock, thick and tempting in his fist. He took him into his mouth and lost himself in it, rocking his hips absently against the mattress to take the edge off his own need.

Their onslaught of attention soon proved too much, and Logan’s legs started to tremble beneath Leo’s hands. Leo upped his pace, bobbing on Logan’s cock until Logan cried out around Finn, his whole body tensing as he started to spill down Leo’s throat.

“Fuck yes,” Finn said shakily as Leo worked him through it. He and Logan locked eyes as Logan rode out his orgasm, his rhythm on Finn’s cock faltering. “So good, Lo, baby. That’s it. Come for us.”

Logan eventually stilled, sinking back against the bed as his softening cock slipped out of Leo’s mouth. Leo pressed a gentle kiss to his tip before sitting up on his knees toward the foot of the bed. Finn pulled back, too, cock red and shining as he stretched out on top of Logan to kiss and nuzzle him. Leo knew Finn loved this part; sharing in the hazy bliss of his partners’ afterglow, regardless of whether he’d come yet himself. Leo loved Finn’s punch-drunk smile, loved how close Logan was holding him.

He was surprised when Finn suddenly turned around and leapt at him, catching him around the waist. They were kneeling chest to chest, Logan watching them with a lazy grin from where he’d curled up on his side. Finn brought his hands up to cradle Leo’s face, looking at him like he’d just invented sex, and Leo loved that, too.

“Your turn,” Finn said, his smile playful and warm.

“It’s not gonna take much,” Leo said, hissing as Finn pressed closer, bringing their cocks together. “Fuck, Finn.”

Finn wrapped a hand around both of them, giving a few experimental strokes. He quirked a brow at Leo, a question in his eyes. Leo, who in all honesty was halfway there already, nodded quickly, gripping Finn’s biceps. “Yeah, like this,” he breathed, urging him on with a rock of his hips.

It only took a few dozen strokes for Leo to get there, calling out his boyfriends’ names as Finn stayed with him through it, not letting up until Leo was twitching and sensitive.

Leo brought a hand up to Finn’s face, breathless and reverent as he held Finn’s gaze. “I love you,” he said softly before kissing him.

Finn kissed him back, smiling. “Love you so much, nutter butter.”

Leo shifted and Finn gasped, and he looked down to see Finn’s cock still achingly hard between them. “Sweetheart,” he said, reaching down to wrap a hand around him. “How do you want it?”

“Sur mon visage.” Logan murmured it, practically a purr, and Leo’s spent cock gave a valiant twitch at the image.

“Oh god,” Leo said with a groan.

“What?” Finn asked, looking back and forth between them. “What’s that mean?”

“He wants you to come on him,” Leo translated, eyes on Logan as he said it. “On his face.”

“Oh god,” Finn echoed. He kissed Leo once more before getting into a good position, his knees on either side of Logan’s chest. Logan rolled onto his back and looked up at him, licking his lips in a way that made Finn groan and grip himself tightly.

Leo stretched out on his side next to them as Finn started to bring himself off. It was mesmerizing to watch, and Leo had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before they were all ready to go again. Leo reached over to stroke the swell of Finn’s ass, feeling the tension coiled under his skin. Finn’s face was screwed up in pleasure, his fist a blur on his cock.

“Open your eyes, Finn,” Leo heard himself say. He was so lost in the moment that he hardly knew what he was saying anymore. “He wants you to see how good he looks when you come all over him.”

“Holy fuck,” Finn said tightly, blinking his eyes open to look at Leo, then Logan, whose own eyes flickered from Finn’s face to his cock. “Lo, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Allez, Finn, allez,” Logan breathed. He curled his hands around the backs of Finn’s knees, urging him on. Then he opened his mouth, pushing his tongue over his bottom lip obscenely, and that was it; Finn came with a shout, painting thick stripes across Logan’s face.

Finn came for what felt like ages, and then the three of them collapsed in a sweaty heap, limbs tangled together as they caught their breaths and came down from their shared high. When Finn came back to himself and rolled off the bed to head toward the bathroom, Leo didn’t fight him on it. He let Finn clean the mess off Logan’s face with gentle strokes, and hummed as Logan shuffled closer to kiss him while Finn swiped the towel over their stomachs and between their legs.

“That was so good,” Logan sighed against Leo’s lips. “Love you, peanut.”

Leo kissed his nose. “Love you, Tremz.” Finn settled in on Logan’s other side, nuzzling into his thick brown hair, and the three of them stayed like that for a long few minutes, wound up in each other.

Leo was hovering on the edge of a doze when he heard Finn say, “Don’t think I forgot about earlier, Knutty. I fully plan to worship you all night as promised.”

With his eyes closed and his body warm and pleasantly weighed-down by the two of them, Leo smiled. “I’m in favor of that,” he said, letting the pull of sleep overtake him for the moment. It was Halloween night, and there was plenty of time left to send shivers up his boys’ spines.

[swiss-cheeze]

Please || Matthew Gray Gubler

Requested, YES/NO: Can I please request a female reader where she is chubby and by about her appearance and she and Matthew are in a relationship but she is scared he is going to leave her for someone more pretty. So he gets into an argument about why she is acting weird and she confesses and basically it ends with him showing her how beautiful she is and smut and after care?

Gender: she/her, female.

Warnings: body worship, talk of food and weight gaining due to food (unhealthy mindset from the reader i guess?), reader calls themself a ‘troll’, self-abuse/hurtful words to oneself, sex.

-------

“You ready pumpkin?” Matthew asked as he walked into the shared bedroom; only to see you in your underwear squishing your stomach with a sad frown, “oh baby” Matthew pouted as he came up behind you, his arms wrapped around your stomach and pulled you into his back, “just not a good day?” you shrugged, it was hard to speak without crying, “we don't have to go out,” his voice was small as he peppered kisses down your neck while thumbing at your stomach. Your breath shuddered as you walked to your closet and picked out your comfort outfit and sniffled, “sweetie i promise we don't have to go” Matthew stood still in the middle of the room while you stood in front of the closet trying your hardest not to break down, “you can stay here, i'll go alone bubby”

“I'll be okay,” your voice was scratchy and barely a whisper but Matthew somehow heard it.

“I don't want you to go somewhere where you’re not comfortable,” Matthew retorted, god you loved this man.

“Please,” it was a whimper.

Please just drop it.

Please just let me do this.

Please hold me.

Please tell me if I'm enough.

Please don't touch me.

Please help me.

The thing that brought you back to earth was the kiss Matthew gave to the crown of your head before exiting the room; leaving you with the click of the door and the screams of your inner demons and voices. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of the voices before grabbing your comfort outfit and getting dressed; it was a red carpet event after all, you couldn't be late, or look bad.

-----

“Oh my god it's Jennifer Aniston!” Matthew whispered with a grin as said model and actor stepped out of her car and started making her way onto the carpet. Matthew hugged your sides - your chubby sides - and squeezed you into him as cameras flashed.

“Matthew over here!”

“Gubler this way!”

“Oi, look at me! Perfect!”

God it was so loud even in this open venue. You tried to keep your smile light and happy but anyone who was anyone could see exactly what was going on in your head; you were only brought back to earth for the second time today by the pull of Matthew. You're leaving! Finally! After a-

“Hello! I am here with Matthew Gray Gubler and girlfriend (Y/n) (L/n)!” a voice called.

Fuck.

Interview.

Smile and wave boys, just smile and wave.

“How are you enjoying the place so far Matthew?” the interviewer asked as you finally got a good look at her; long blonde hair, perfectly chiseled face, tight waist, small stomach, skin tight dress, long legs, perfect pedicure and manicure…

“(Y/n)?” Matthew jolted you slightly as you stared at the interviewer.

“Yes?” you questioned.

“How do you feel tonight? You've got many models and actors around you, is it a bit overwhelming being with an actor?” god even her voice was sexy.

“Um, no, no it's good!” you gave a fake small and jolted yourself to a fake happy, “it's great being around those i admire and watch in shows and movies; Chris Evans, Simon Pegg; i think even Ben Hardy and a few others i admire are here too” you gave a grin and looked around while talking to give the impression you were looking for the people you were talking about.

“Well that sounds good!” The interviewer gave a forced laugh, almost like she was bored, “are you wearing anything special or is this just the sunday look?” her giggle was what caught you on the insult.

“Excuse me?” Matthews hand on your waist tightened as you spoke.

“Darling-”

“Your outfit is a bit old…” the interviewer paused, “a bit outdated?” this made you go quiet; now your comfort outfit is ruined.

“Excuse us,” Matthew mumbled as he guided you away from the interviewer and into a quiet corner.

“What-”

“Did you want to go home?” Matthew cut you off, he was stern and to the point.

“What? No of course not-”

“Your comfort outfit has just been insulted, I know how much you love this outfit and I know how amazing it makes you look every single time you wear it,” Matthew waited a moment as he looked at you with all the love in the world.

“But what about-”

“It's just a party” Matthew reminded you, he always had a habit of making bad situations into good ones.

“No, no I promise I'm okay baby,” you gave the most convincing smile you could, Matthew was hesitant but eventually gave in as you continued the red carpet and did another 3 interviews...all while being surrounded by lovely size 6 women who have flat stomachs, nice legs and nice breasts. While you were on the heavier side of the spectrum you couldn't help but thank yourself for your breasts; they were not huge but they weren't small like some actresses were because their body was small in comparison. And Matthew adored your breasts; always held them and stuffed his face in them to make you laugh, always leaving marks and bruises in the perfect places that only you know about...so you just kept that same mentality through the rest of the night.

He loves me.

That's all I need.

He loves all of me.

He could go for better.

But he chose me.

God he could totally go for better.

Look there’s Aniston and her perfect body-

No stop!

God and now A.J., and Paget; even Kirsten looks better in any outfit than i do.

No matter how much you tried you just couldn't stop thinking how much better Matthew would be with someone smaller than you; someone who could give him lap dances and not have rolls, someone he could throw over his shoulder easy, someone he could pick up from behind, someone who could sit on his face and not crush him...this is gonna be a long night.

------

When you got home that night all you wanted to do was law down in bed and weep, but of course you had a boyfriend whom you lived with.

“Did you like the movie (Y/n)?” Matthew asked as he hung his coat, a big dopey grin plastered on his face. You shrugged.

“Was a movie,” was your only response before walking into the bedroom and striping to your underwear.

“Okay…” Matthew mumbled, he knew something was up but he didn't want to push it, “want to order in or something then?” he called through the house, “maccas? Thai? Ooo I could go for some good sushi or honey soy chicken; oh my god AND NOODLES!” he sounded too excited for what seemed to be a weight gaining meal. Matthew bounded into the bedroom with a grin before stopping short.

There you were.

Head in your hands.

Shoulders shaking.

Silently sobbing.

“Baby?”

“Please leave me alone,”

“Please tell me what's wrong...you’ve never been like this; you've always loved yourself,”

You sniffled before going silent for a moment.

“I've always been like this; i'm just good at hiding it from everyone,”

And it suddenly made sense.

When you get a smaller plate than you normally would in restaurants, a salad instead of a cupcake, a healthy shake rather than milkshake, exercising more, covering yourself with layers when you go out together.

“Oh sweetheart,”

Matthew sat down next to you, he was about to reach a hand out to touch you but cowered back when he realised you most likely wouldn't like it.

“You know you're...you’re a lot like Spencer Reid even if he's only fictional,” this seemed to make you smile as you thought of the times you got to spend on set with your second family, “you give great advice, you’re smart in places others aren't, you ramble...but then again you're so different: you’re warm, inviting, open hearted, head full, eccentric, extravagant-”

“Well i wouldn't say extravagant-”

“Well I do,” you finally looked at Matthew; his face faltered when he saw how tear stained and red splotched you where. But god you were still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“I know i'm probably a troll by now-”

“No, no no baby; never,” Matthew raised his hands and cupped your jaw to keep you looking at him, “you’re always the most beautiful thing i ever had the pleasure of meeting,” you wanted to smile, and you did, but that was only your face.

“Yeah? Then what about the rest of me-”

“Dont” Matthew was quick to cut you off, “you are beautiful, all of you is beautiful,”

“But I've got, I've got rolls! A-and marks! Hair! I-i smell, I'm flabby, I jiggle…”

“I have rolls too and you love them,” your eyes darted to Spencers stomach where you knew his soft rolls where, “i have marks,” your eyes traveled to his hips were you knew some stretch marks looked like bolts of lightning from Zeus and Thor themselves, “i have hair,” you probably shouldn't have but you looked to his pant-covered crotch where you knew there was a recently trimmed patch of dark hair, “i smell,” you giggled at this as you both did kind of smell due to the day out in the hot movie theater, “im flabby and i jiggle,” he wasn't wrong, his arms sometimes jiggled when you moved them the same as his tummy whenever he danced weirdly.

“But youre skinny-”

“No buts,”

“I eat too much”

“So do I”

“You don't gain weight from it”

“Because i couldn't swallow for 26 days and have a fast metabolism”

“You have cheekbones”

“So do you”

“You cant see mine”

“I was a model; I had to bite the inside of my cheeks”

“Chiseled jaw,”

“Jaw exercises because i was a model; plus eating you o-”

“OKAY SHUSH,” you waved Matthew off with a laugh before standing up quickly.

“Can we please just go to bed? I just want this day to end,” you asked as your hands unconsciously covered your naked stomach; Matthew only now realised you had stripped from your dress before he came into the room. The look in his eyes when he scanned you from top to bottom included a range of emotions, from love and lust, to anger; anger being that you couldn't see what he sees and saw every day of his life.

“Can you at least let me show you how amazing your body is? And how much I adore you, your body and your mind?” a red flush went over your whole body as you realised what he was asking. Of course he asked. Consent is sexy.

That’s when it all fell into place; as soon as you nodded Matthew was all over you.

The plush bed moved under you as Matthew guided you down to the pillows and left feather-like kisses along your neck while muttering praises under his breath.

“Beautiful”

“Goddess”

“Princess”

“Elegant”

“One of a kind”

“Plush”

“Perfect”

“Impenetrable”

“Lovely”

“Divine”

“Angelic”

“Captivating”

“Foxy”

Each kiss left a word, each word left a purple bruise, each bruise lit a fire inside you you never knew you had. Nibbles trailed from your neck to your panty line before dispersing around your stomach in red and splotchy hickies and bites. Matthews hands went under you to unclasp your bra before leaving it somewhere on the bed or the floor; you couldn't really care less. His rough hands were the first to touch you and play with your nipples before his tongue, mouth and teeth followed; nipping and biting your nipples, pulling them slightly, twisting and licking. It felt like a dream.

“Sh-shit Matthew,” you let out a breathy whine while your body twitched under Matthews hands and mouth, one hand went down to your waist to hold you still while the other stayed playing with the plush flesh.

“Always loved these,” Matthew mumbled into your breast, he took a moment to plunge his face in your cleavage causing you to laugh, “just gimme a sec lovely,” Matthews voice came out muffled as he sat still; your arms coming up to play with his hair. His hands gripped both of your breasts softly before pushing them into the sides of his face, again, causing you to laugh.

“Is this your way of showing me how much you love me?” you questioned, Matthew stayed silent before a nod came from him, again, causing you to laugh harder before the man brought his face back to the real world with a harsh intake of breath.

“Couldn't breath,” Matthew said breathlessly, obviously. You both laughed for a moment before Matthew dove in for a kiss; heated, breathless, full of love and admiration for you. It honestly caught you off guard and made you forget what all of this was really for; until Matthews hands started pawing at your stomach.

“Gube-”

“Please”

And suddenly you were brought back to this morning; except this was different.

Please let me.

Please let me love you.

Please let me show you how amazing you are.

Please let me show you how beautiful you are.

Please let me show you how perfect you are.

Please allow me to be with you.

Please let me hold you.

Please.

And that was all it took.

“Okay,” you smiled a teary smile, as Matthew kissed your cheek and then trailed down to your stomach, peppering kisses, nibbles and licks all over your tummy.

“I love your stomach,” Matthew mumbled, “it holds your intestines together, it holds your food in, it keeps you together,” his nibbles soon went lower; leaving marks on the apex of your thighs as well as your inner thighs.

“Babe please…” your fingers threaded through Matthews hair as you tried to guide him to the place you really wanted but he stayed at your thighs.

“Darling just let me love you,” Matthew requested.

“Love me between my legs Gube” you whined while tugging at the mop on Matthews head until finally, finally! Matthew started to pull down your underwear before spreading your legs and...staring, “Gube…” you started to feel uncomfortable and closed your legs.

“Sunshine im sorry,” Matthew finally looked to you rather than your sex, “you’re just beautiful everywhere,”

“I know, i just haven't shaved and-”

“No, stop,” Matthew kissed your panty line, “this is about loving all of you; when have I ever cared if you’ve shaved or not?” the man gave you an unanswerable question, “answer me baby,”

“Never…”

“Never. Exactly,” he smiled before crawling back up to you and kissing your nose for a moment before going back down and licking a stripe up your slit causing you to moan from the suddenness, “god and you taste perfect,”

“Please don't say I taste like strawberry or something,” you giggled, Matthew laughed softly before shaking his head with his tongue on your clit; giving you pleasure while saying ‘no’. You tugged on his hair some more while the pleasure lasted. Matthew swiftly tore off his pants, boxers and shirt before lifting your legs and positioning himself at your entrance.

“You ready sweetheart?” Matthew mumbled, his hair was tousled with sex hair, his eyes bore into you with love, he was breathing heavily, a slight sheen of sweat was on his forehead he was like-

“A god,” you mumbled, hands finding Matthews cheeks and holding him softly.

“What…?”

“You’re like an actual god,” you spoke again, your voice was quiet as your eyes started to tear up.

“Oh darling,” Matthew mumbled, his hands coming up to wipe the tears away, “then you’re my goddess,” you nodded before bringing Matthew down for a kiss the same time he entered you; a low moan rumbling from the both of you as Matthew stilled, “you feel so good around me darling; wet and tight,” that's when he started thrusting; it felt like nothing you’d dot together before.

“H-holy shit,” your moans mixed together as Matthew held you tightly, his head buried itself in your neck and started sucking on the skin he could make contact with as his thrusts sped up; your legs encased Matthew as he hit that perfect spot in you.

“God you’re so beautiful,” Matthew mumbled softly through laboured breaths, “you’re so amazing; always there for me, helping me with everything, being perfect,”

“I love you so much,” you whimpered, Matthews hand snaked down between your thighs and started rubbing your clit expertly like he always did causing your moans to become louder as well as your approaching orgasm.

“I love you so much too doll,” Matthew whispered, “you gonna come sweetheart?”, you nodded while a large moan escaped you, “you’re beautiful in every way,” you nodded as your hips met Matthews; eyes scrunched and brows knitted you placed your forehead on Matthews as his hands encased your hips and sped up yet again. You’re sure bruises would be forming on your hips later tonight but that just made everything better; it just made you want to love yourself even more with every bruise, bump, lump, mark, scratch and roll. The image of Matthew kissing every inch of your body was what set you off. A silent moan left you as your mouth formed an ‘o’ and your tongue went dry due to the intakes of breath, you keened as Matthew thrusted for a first, second, third time and came with you. The warmth spread through you as Matthew held you close; encasing you with his arms as your legs wrapped around him.

It took a moment for the two of you to come back down to earth, but when you did it felt like everything was new. Matthew flopped beside you breathing heavily as a smile grew on both of your faces, a few moments passed before the lanky man himself stood up and walked to the bathroom before coming back with a washcloth and cleaning you up.

“Thank you,” you mumbled as Matthew finally cozzied back up to you under the covers, bringing you into his chest and kissing the top of your head.

“Anything for you,”

“Yeah? Anything?”

“Yeah,” Matthew looked at you with a smile, “anything,” and it was a promise.

[boredfanwrites]

Aizawa’s Apartment for the Wayward Wanderer

Aizawa isn't stupid, he's also a teacher. He knows when kids are lying to him, making light of a serious situation. This kid in front of him has his wings tensed, despite the easy smile on his face. Hawks has only just turned 18, which gave the Commission full rights in making him a licensed pro hero. Which is why when he manages to coerce Hawks away from his handlers long enough he gives him a spare key.

"No, no I can't accept this. I don't want to come barging into your life."

"Kid, I'm never there. Sure, I crash every now and again if I'm out too late but I've tended not to be in the area that late anymore. I have a home to get to. You'd be doing me a favour."

He tries to smile in a warm way, tries to differ from the fake praising smiles he imagines Hawks has only gotten his whole life. He likes to think that Hawks knew it was genuine, that he trusts him as an adult figure who actually wants what's best for him, not what's best for his career and appearance.

 ***

The first time Aizawa finds him, Hawks is smoking on the fire escape.

"You know, when I said this apartment was empty and free to use, I didn't mean to satisfy the cravings the Commission won't allow you."

Hawks turns around and Aizawa realises just how much he'd needed that smoke. His facade has fallen, no smirk on his face, just apathy. Hawks doesn't just look exhausted, he looks tired, in the way that no matter how much rest or sleep he'd gotten he would not be able to shake the bags from his eyes.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just gotta give in, right?" Aizawa noticed the bloody polystyrene tray balanced on the railings.

"Not the only thing you've given into tonight?"

"Or the past week."

"Hawks?"

"I appreciate the apartment space, Eraser."

And like that he's gone. Hawks is only 19, it's not the first time he's stayed in the apartment. Aizawa had seen the subtle signs. It's the first time Aizawa had caught him, looking as tired as he did. He looked far older than 19, like he'd seen too much too soon. Aizawa couldn't help but think that Hawks wasn't too much older than his students, those who'd just graduated and those about to, nowhere near being a pro hero. All in the makings for sidekicks, or being introduced at a lower level, so young they'd have to work their way up. Hawks had been thrown in head first, so quickly Aizawa wondered if he'd ever gotten the chance to just be.

***

The second time Aizawa runs into Hawks is an accident, he swears. He'd been caught pretty badly by one of the villains quirks and muscle memory swung him to his old apartment's balcony. It also sent him crashing directly into the bird who was smoking there.

"Shit, ow." Hawks quickly stood up, brushing himself off, before noticing the state Aizawa was in. "You know I could've sworn that your capture scarf was not red the last time I saw it."

Aizawa didn't dignify Hawks with a response, simply choosing to locate the closest of the first aid kits he kept in the apartment.

"Thought you said you had a home to go to," Hawks laughed as Aizawa slowly peeled off the sticky scarf.

"The home does not like it when I get back injured," the gruff voice responded, before wincing as his scarf caught on one of the entry points.

"Oh my God, stop. You're just going to hurt yourself more," Hawks grabbed at the scarf as Aizawa tried to bat his hands away. "Please just let me."

Aizawa scrunches his face up, slowly dropping his hands as Hawks takes over. Hawks is surprisingly gentle, choosing to nimbly loosen the scarf as he finds wounds it's stuck to. It doesn't hurt.

Once Hawks is done he retrieves a first aid box that is distinctly neon yellow. Not one Aizawa had left. Hawks rifles through, throwing aside bandages and patches.

"This is the good shit. Not exactly promoted by hospitals and it'll make you loopy for a bit, but there's a sofa for you here."

Hawks lifts out a vial of blue liquid, alongside cotton pads and some larger dressings for the worse of the wounds. Aizawa pulls himself away, trying to locate his own first aid kits.

"Oh come on. You can't go to the hospital 'cause you definitely didn't get those doing legal work," Hawks sighed. "This'll do it's job, I swear it's not dangerous. I use it all the time."

"That's not exactly a glowing recommendation."

"Well, at least you're okay. You still have the energy to insult me at least."

Aizawa laughs lightly, the younger man bandaging his wounds, he still makes a show of batting away Hawks' hands every now and then but is mostly resigned to letting the bird do his work.

"I'm not going to like the answer if I ask how you knew how to do that, am I?"

"Depends on your definition of like. I got used to patching myself up after training sessions."

"So, no. I do not like that."

"Nothing to do about it now," Hawks shrugged.

Aizawa took Hawks' hands into his own. They were shaking, but rough and calloused. His knuckles were red and raw. Aizawa grabbed the blue liquid and begun to return the favour.

"I'm always here. I'll always be there to help, Hawks. Just because nothing has been done, doesn't mean something can't be done."

 ***

The third time Hawks is lounging around the apartment in what looks to be the comfiest pyjamas Aizawa had ever owned. Aizawa had let himself in with his key following a text from Hawks asking if the man wanted a 'movie day'. Aizawa responded with a '?' but made his way over anyway, relaying the excuse of a stake out to Hizashi.

A glaring light from the TV fills the room as it begins to get dark. Hawks had played action film after action film before Aizawa put his foot down and coerced Hawks into watching a period piece.

"I never had this growing up," Hawks whispered, eyes wide. "Tokoyami was saying they do it at the dorms all the time. I just, I wanted to know what this was like, so thank you."

Aizawa didn't say anything else, just let Hawks pick out the next movie, the next snacks. Hawks picked their takeaway. They both fell asleep at what Aizawa would consider a normal hour, but others ungodly.

Hizashi asked how well the stake out had gone when Aizawa returned at 6pm the following day. Aizawa found he couldn't lie to his husband. Hizashi was upset at the initial lie, but understood. Hawks was trying to be normal, just a regular guy. Hell, even a regular pro-hero makes time for a movie every now and then. Who were they to take that away from him?

 ***

The fourth time Aizawa catches him is the worst time. By this time Aizawa was aware of Hawks' mission with the League of Villains, he knew that the pro hero had been neglecting the commission because of it. The commission had been acting harshly towards Hawks in retaliation, Aizawa wasn't sure how that differed from their usual treatment but he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

He'd knocked on the door before letting himself in. Hawks was curled up in a long black jacket that Aizawa pretended he didn't recognise, his red feathers scattered around him on the floor, a few droplets of blood on both the floor and Hawks. The younger man was asleep, a blanket had been gently dropped over him, probably by the owner of the coat. Who, based on the apartment temperature in comparison to the window being open, had only recently left and had not had a chance to clean Hawks up.

Aizawa takes it upon himself to finish the job. There was a worrying amount of feathers, more than Aizawa had anticipated. He didn't want to jump to conclusions but based on the blood he feared the worst. Once he'd collected the feathers, not throwing them away because he couldn't bring himself to take that away from Hawks, he sat on his sofa, lacing his fingers together and just watched Hawks. He watched as the bird drew breath, gently as an opposite to the loud gasping sobs Aizawa was imagining. He'd seen Hawks sleep before, there had been some crossover stakeouts, but the sight in front of him was different. Hawks was just 22, young, scared, controlled and trapped. Clearly it had caught up to him. The boy, that's all that he was to Aizawa, on the floor in front of him was different to the man he'd worked patrols with. Aizawa couldn't help but think that this is who Hawks was underneath the mask, the person he wasn't allowed to be.

"I tried to stop him," a gravelly voice sighed at the window.

"You know I should arrest you on the spot." Aizawa would not admit his shock at being snuck up on. He'd let his guard down within his worry for Hawks and Dabi had managed to return undetected.

"You should, but you won't. You and I both know that won't do him any good," Dabi jabbed a thumb at the sleeping mass. "I just, I tried to stop him. He was fuming, screaming, ripping out his wings."

"I was worried about the impact on his mental health."

"What mental health? He's just as fucked up as I am," Dabi yelled, quickly lowering his volume once more, he sighed. "I know, and I know you know. I'm starting to think he knows I know. It's a lot, it'd be a lot for anyone, but it's really taking it out of him. I'm...worried."

It's then Aizawa remembers, Dabi is mixed up in his own things too. Not really following the League anymore but reluctant to leave his found family, a family that now included Hawks, even if he'd joined for the wrong reasons.  

"He needs a break, or just to stop."

"He wants free from the commission and I don't think he'll stop at anything to get that. It scares me. Eraser, Aizawa, I haven't been this scared since Endeavour first got hold of Sho."

It's then Aizawa remembers, Dabi may be older than Hawks but he went through a traumatic childhood all the same. He was also just a kid, robbed of the chance to be a child and now he was a scared adult that didn't have a hold of how to process his emotions, just like the young boy sleeping in front of them.

"Here," Aizawa shuffles around in his pocket. "It's my key to the place. I gave a copy to Hawks not long after I met him, used to swing by every now and then to check on him. But you need this place more than I do."

 ***

The fifth time Aizawa walks into the apartment it's a few years later and it's because one of his problem children had called him there. He had not expected to find Bakugo Katsuki rocking back and forth, with Dabi seemingly stroking soft shapes into his arms. Midoriya was mumbling to himself, while Hawks and Todoroki were making tea.

"Aizawa-sensei, I'm so glad you came," Midoriya broke from his mumbling.

"You called me, Midorya. What's happened?"

"Kacchan. His hearing blew out in a fight. Villain let off a grenade right next to him."

"We've only just managed to get him cleaned up," Hawks sighed. "Absolutely refused the hospital."

"I hate to break up this nice catch-up," Dabi cleared his throat. "He's signing something...but what the fuck is a K shark?"

"Kirishima," the teacher and his problem children sighed.

Aizawa wasn't going to ask how Dabi knew sign, he was sure he wouldn't like the answer he'd receive. Instead he turned on his heel, ready to set out to find Kirishima Eijirou. It was a well known fact that he grounded Bakugo in a way that no-one else had managed.

The sight he returned to was far better than the first. Bakugo was now wrapped in Dabi's arms, the pair lying on the sofa. Midoriya had calmed considerably and was making small-talk with Hawks while Todoroki was attempting to subtly reconcile with his older brother who's identity still remained anonymous to most. Kirishima immediately ran to Bakugo's side, linking their fingers together. It allowed Kirishima to slowly pull Bakugo into him until the blonde boy broke down in sobs.

"He'll be okay. Nobody mentions this to him," Kirishima glared at Midoriya specifically, as he ran a hand up and down Bakugo's shirt. "We knew this was coming, just happened a little sooner than we thought."

"His hearing aids?" Todoroki asked.

"They'll have to be adjusted," Aizawa answered.

"He won't wear them unless it's absolutely necessary. They've caused him far more pain than good," Kirishima shook his head.

"He won't be able to be a hero," Midoriya looked close to tears.

"He'll find a way." Kirishima smiled fondly, Aizawa felt as though he was intruding.

So he removed himself, intending to brew more tea. As he was doing so however, both Hawks and Dabi made their way to the bedroom. Aizawa quickly glanced at his problem children, before edging closer to the doorway, just until he could make out a conversation.

"We're not adopting another one."

"Hawks..."

"Those were your exact words when I said about Jin."

"He's just a kid, Hawks. He's been told his entire life he needs to be the best, the strongest, no flaws allowed."

"Dabi, we're not doing this. Who's gonna look after him? He's a goddamn livewire."

"Just please, can we this once, Keigo?"

"Touya, no." Aizawa wasn't aware that Dabi had revealed his identity to Hawks, or that Hawks would use his given name so freely. Likewise for Hawks, who kept his name incredibly close to his chest.

"Kei..." Aizawa recognised that. An undeniably, unbelievably soft voice from Dabi. The tone that his husband had used too many times and the tone that Aizawa had used only once. Aizawa knew that if Hawks truly loved Dabi there would be no more saying no.

"Fine, but this one's your kid."

 ***

Aizawa was going through the motions, the usual setting of his routine after a patrol. He didn't break out of it until he felt his husbands hands on his shoulders.

"Shouta?"

"Someone asked to buy my apartment."

"Well, that's good isn't it? You're never there anymore, you always come home after a patrol now...Oh. Hawks."

"Hawks is the one who offered to buy it."

"But Hawks has his own place."

"Yeah paid for by the commission, right next to the commission and his agency. Which makes me question why he wants to move so damn far away."

"Shouta, we're not adopting another one."

"If we did, we'd have to adopt another 4. Well, 3 really, I guess along the way I did adopt a few of the problem children unofficially."

"What?"

"He's got his own little family. I'm starting to think he picked up the habit of adopting strays from me. Two villains, a vigilante and a hero."

"Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke."

Aizawa just hummed, knowing that somehow Hawks' rag tag little family would make their own way.

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.1

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick?) au, sugar daddy au, fluff, pining, angst rating: mature words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention a/n: this is jeongguk as john wick because i’m trash and i cant finish one story at a time. these prompts r from here btw :) im gonna do all 50 but im too lazy rn so here’s the first 10 :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Jeongguk’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Jeongguk did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Jeongguk sufficed for “boss of a company���, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Jeongguk came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Jeongguk working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.

Taehyung, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Jeongguk seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Jeongguk spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Jeongguk donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues when racism prevented them from entry. Jeongguk was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working. And, Jeongguk was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head. Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.

Things in Jeongguk’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Jeongguk going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Jeongguk would feel alien, like he didn’t belong. At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty five year old skin), Jeongguk felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.

Having met Jeongguk during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Jeongguk’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival. Asshole, he deserved it. Secondly, Jeongguk was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.

He tried his best. Jeongguk, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep. Jeongguk knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.

However, Jeongguk was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Jeongguk drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed. Jeongguk carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.

Jeongguk is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Jeongguk is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that. Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional. Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears it again.

(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Jeongguk is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.

“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Jeongguk often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth. You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Jeongguk is around to make the judgement.

He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa. Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.

“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”

“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.

Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.

“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”

Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”

“Hate my brain.”

“Today, we hate it.”

Jeongguk’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Taehyung’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”

“I don’t need it,” Jeongguk concludes. “Not today.”

(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

Sometimes Jeongguk wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.

Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.

“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Jeongguk mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”

It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get you some water,” Jeongguk suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Jeongguk might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.

Before Jeongguk decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Jeongguk finds it a hassle to visit.

(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.

For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Jeongguk is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long fued with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Taehyung had found closer to Jeongguk’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.

With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Jeongguk picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.

A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back. France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.

“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”

Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Jeongguk dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.

“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Jeongguk takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.

“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.

“Bout an hour ago,” Jeongguk replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you. Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Jeongguk responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”

You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Jeongguk. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”

“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. “Hire me.”

“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”

(4) Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

“You.”

“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Jeongguk replies non committedly. He fists his hair.

“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”

He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”

“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”

Jeongguk relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew. Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.

“Y/N-”

“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple tit.”

He grins, then, and takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”

“Tell that to Twitter,” you sigh.

(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Jeongguk prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary. So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Jeongguk has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.

He gets up, anyway.

Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Jeongguk stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.

Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.

(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Jeongguk wants to hang Taehyung for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.

It had, of course, been Jeongguk’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Jeongguk remembers all he saw was red.

The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Jeongguk prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor. Jeongguk and his men, along with the few police officers Jeongguk could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.

Nobody knows how Jeongguk got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you. He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.

Jeongguk could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Jeongguk collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.

You were of the highest value to Jeongguk.

“Fuck you,” Jeongguk barks suddenly, and Taehyung shrugs and exits the office. All he had asked was if he loved you.

(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

There might be the assumption that Jeongguk comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.

On rare occasion, Jeongguk comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today. 

Jeongguk hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.

“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.

“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.

“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Jeongguk says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”

Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”

Jeongguk pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”

“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”

“I like your bruised up legs,” says Jeongguk.

“Me too, but not these ones.”

“Bruh, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Jeongguk exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”

“It hurts.”

“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”

Jeongguk drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room. Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee. Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Jeongguk knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”

You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”

You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Jeongguk moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.

“All better,” he assures.

“It feels better already.”

“Mm. Magic.”

(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

“So, I was at a school fayre today.”

“Really?” Jeongguk sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.

“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”

Jeongguk thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”

“Yep. You.”

“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.

You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Jeongguk again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.

“What’s this?” asks Jeongguk.

“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”

“It’s for me?” he asks again.

“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.

Jeongguk thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.

“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.

“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get Taehyung an uncle badge if he gets pissy.”

“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Jeongguk pouts. “He wants a sugar niece, well...he’ll have to look somewhere else.”

You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”

“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.

“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Jeongguk looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.

(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Jeongguk’s bored out of his brain.

He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.

“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”

“Can’t you just make it?”

“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Jeongguk hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”

He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”

“Why can’t we share a house?” Jeongguk presses.

“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”

(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

He’s tired. You’re tired.

The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Jeongguk smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now. You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.

You know he’s having a hard time, because Jeongguk’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Jeongguk takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.

You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other's company is enough for tonight. The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Jeongguk’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.

[queensdivas]

Peonies Chapter 8

It has been a while since I've posted about Grigor or The Great. Y'all I have been busy with finals and another fic on archive that has been my favorite thing to write. If you've ever watched The Terror from AMC then you'll enjoy this.

But I haven't forgot about one of my favorite fics. Never.

Other than that! Here we go after weeks of not writing.

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

The idea of falling asleep after today just sounds nauseating. Seeing the horrors in front of me then coming back to my apartment for Peter wanting to kill me. Then for Grigor to storm off due to the fact that he thought I would lay with my own cousin by marriage. Yes I’m well aware that’s still a common practice amongst the Monarchs of the world but not in my book!

Turning my head to watch the flames slowly begin to die down before my eyes. The room was beginning to spiral into that infamous Russian cold. I didn’t feel like throwing another log on since part of me thinks I deserve to be in the wintry world that I have chosen to live in.

This plan for making Catherine the ruler of all Russia is becoming stale. What have we done that’s been achievable anyhow! Go to the front to feed a bunch of soldiers! You saw what happened when I alone tried to help Peter! Catherine influenced a new Patriarch yet the women of the court still find Catherine to be an annoyance. There has been absolutely no effort or somewhat change Catherine has done to make things more in her favor. God she is a child thrown into a world that she has no idea what she's doing. Although I should be guiding...but...

What good am I doing here! I feel as if I’m just now a fuck toy for Grigor to feel a womens touch since his wife is with the Emporer on a daily basis! Throwing the blanket off me to march over to the nearest vase and chuck it across the room!

A screech left my body as I cleared everything off the vanity onto the floor. I could feel the blood rushing through me for this anger to spiral out of control! This stupid country! Grabbing a book to throw it against the wall!

THIS STUPID COUNTRY!

HOW CAN ONE FUCKING BELONG TO THIS COURT!

HOW CAN ONE SINGLE HUMAN BE SUCH AN ABSOLUTE MORON! AND YES THAT HUMAN IS ME!

WHY DOESN’T HE TRUST ME!

I’M NOT HIS WIFE!

THIS STUPID GOD DAMN COUNTRY!

IT’S MAKING ME QUESTION EVERY SINGLE THREAD OF INSANITY I HAVE BECAUSE THE MAN I’M BEGINNING TO FALL FOR HAS MAJOR TRUST ISSUES! CAN’T HE SEE THAT I AM A ONE MAN ONE WOMEN SORT OF WOMAN!

YES I’M A WHORE TO A MAR….

Huh...would you look at that Chiara? All because he lit a fire under your own ass because everyone else around you stays clear of it.

I…..

I feel nothing….

Maybe the cold will make me feel something in this empty body. Grabbing the handles of the window to pull them out. They smacked against the walls for the wind to soar through my room. It flew through my hair for the first few seconds for it to stop. The cold swaddled me up but I didn’t move from the window.

I do not deserve the things I have been given in life. For I am a cold hearted bitch with almost no remorse in my actions. I could possibly kill a hundred people and proclaim it to be for the greater good. No sense of remorse or sadness.

How could Grigor want to love someone as vile as me..I am cold..evil. Someone like me doesn’t deserve the warm embrace of what love is. This lust is beginning to form into the most dangerous tool one can have in their life. For it can bring life and destroy it in a matter of seconds.

I miss his touch..the way his fingers would glide across my arm as we snuggled together on the bed. The way he kissed my forehead after a long time of making love. Him showing me his drawings and I know he’s drawing me in my sleep! It hurts to feel this sort of way! I don’t want to feel anything! This feeling is almost heart wrenching and...beautiful.

My breathing began to choke till the only warmth that was on my body was the singular tear that had escaped my eye. I’m not a crier. Though we Italians embrace our emotions and turn it into something beautiful, I think this tear is a sense of relief. If I didn’t feel anything. I wouldn’t be whimpering in front of an open window.

A gentle beat from the door echoed through my room as I didn’t even move. If Peter was sending his soldiers to kill me I get the feeling there would be no knock. Please let it be Grigor. I need to feel his touch and tell him the truth. Not all of it but at least enough that I don’t spoil my plans for Catherine.

I closed the window to hurry over to the fire and toss a log in. If it’s Grigor then he probably would prefer something a little warmer. Please him please. Grabbing my robe to put it on as I opened the door. My eyes expanded from the confusion of who was standing before me in my bed robes.

“Elizabeth?” Well if she was coming to kill me I imagine my room has some sort of secret entrance and would’ve done it in my sleep.

“I hope I didn't disturb you. I think we need to have a little chat.”

“We do?” Dear God if Peter opened his mouth about what he started and what I finished I’m going to go kill him myself!

“Yes. May I come in?” Taking a step back for the door to open. She was in her bed clothes as she noticed the mess I had made in my room.

“The work of Peter no less?” I kept my mouth shut for once waiting for her to say something more. She’s going to defend Peter as much as she can. Probably for his own father who I imagine she secretly loved. From my understanding Peter the Great was also quite promiscuous just like his mother. A family of harlots.

“I heard from Peter what happened here early today. I highly doubt that you called him a bastard since he can be quite over dramatic.” So she’s aware that he’s a sniffling bastard whose inability to rule is quite prominent.

“Not talking much tonight are you? Usually you have a comment to say if I were in here talking about Peter.”

“For once Elizabeth. I could truly give a shit about Peter and his antics. I’m not here to please him and make him happy. I’m here for Catherine and making her more comfortable with her new station.” Try not to think that we might kill her own Nephew in a good amount of time. If not by Catherine then by the military.

“You’re not angry that he was in here and wanted to kill you?” She sat down in front of the fire in the love seat for me to stand before here.

“Your nephew. My cousin by marriage is a harmless little bug in my life Elizabeth. His actions were not even worth a single drop of sweat from my brow.”

“Did the stabbing of a major General not scare you? As an outsider I thought it would have scared you horribly.”

“Not scared. More gasping which then leads to utter annoyance. I am more than capable of handling Peter when he’s in a state of anger trying to kill me. What do you even want because I would like some sort of rest.”

“Be more gentle when it comes..

“Just because his mother was a horrid woman does not excuse his actions Elizabeth! That’s saying Zeus should be considered a kind man even though he raped Leda because of his own mental state. Peter thinks of him as Zeus when in reality he is worse than Hades himself! Life is horrid Elizabeth and constantly blaming his issues on his mother is disgusting and you standing here trying to defend him holds you accountable for his actions.”

“What an interesting comparison. You are a very bright woman and that wicked tongue is able to strike anyone down.”

“I can strike down anyone with tongue and steel.” Taking in a sharp breath to walk over to a full bottle of sweet red wine.

“Would you like a glass?” Asking for her to nod. Popping off the court to grab two glasses then bringing two glasses over for us. Sitting down across from here to begin pouring her a glass. She motioned for me to stop for me to pour myself some as well.

“I apologise dear Aunt Elizabeth. I sometimes forget to catch my tongue before it falls out of my head.” We both took a long drink to the point when we were done I had to pour a little more between us.

“It’s quite alright. I’m just grateful you didn’t kill my beloved Nephew before it was too late.” Before I could answer the doors bursted open.

“Excuse me mam?” Turning to see a serf was standing by the door of my world. Did something happen to Fernanda?

“Zasha? What is it?” Elizabeth stood up from my chair to approach her.

“It’s the Emperor. He’s fallen gravely ill.” Well. That is going to solve our problems much faster than I thought it was going to happen. She wrapped herself around her robe as we began walking out of my bedroom.

“Why are you coming? I thought you despised him” She asked for me to nod but was still walking.

“We’re family by marriage. He is now my cousin whether I like it or not.” Turning the corner to see that Orlo, George...and Grigor were waiting outside the room. Splendid. I imagine his wife was ready to lay in bed yet stumbled into that mess.

“From what I’ve seen and heard it sounds bad. A lot of vomit and blood.” Orlo told us to stand next to Orlo. One of the priests that was in the room came out with the black mask on his face to then take it off before us.

“You may not enter the room. For it might be contagious till the doctor tells you differently. For he’s running a high fever, a lot of vomiting, and has been seeing strange visions. The Archbishop is there with him now. He’ll tell you more once he comes out.” Is...Is that vomit on his mask? Or...dear god. He walked past us heading down the hall towards the apartments.

“How is he?” Catherine came in with a very well detailed look of uneasiness.

“Very ill.” Elizabeth told Catherine for my eyes to drift over to Grigor. He was holding onto George but staring directly at me. Stupid man. Stupid man!

“Can we go in?” Catherine asked Orlo but I’m assuming not.

“Well everyones being kept out here.”

“In fear of contagion.” Finally looking at Grigor again for us to lock eyes for a brief instant till I turned to Catherine.

“He’s been vomiting continuously throughout the night, and he runs a high fever, and he has fits of wild delirium.”

“The Doctor and Archbishop are with him.” I told her to place my hands on her shoulder to give some comfort to this poor wife and my cousin. The door opened for a child to come out with a bowl filled with blood and vomit. Not to mention his entire body was covered head to toe in Peters upchuck...and from the smell..the back door was also used as well.

“Excuse me.” Oh the smell! Covering my nose for Grigor and I to look at one another again. He doesn’t look concerned. Is that a smile?

We all leaned into the doorway to see what was happening in there since we could only hear the sound of Peter vomiting and coughing more and more. I did the sign of the cross to hold onto my cross necklace. I don’t pray for Peter. But I pray for the Doctor inside the room that he stays safe from whatever disease has fallen upon Peter. Peter could go to hell for all I care, but I have to keep up appearances.

The Archbishop popped in the doorway for us to straighten our backs. He came out of his bedroom to close the door behind him. Grigor inched a little closer to me to the point I could sense the warmth radiating off him.

“How is he?” Grigor asked for the Archbishop to stare directly at us.

“Extremely ill. The fear is that it may be Cholera.”

“Cholera?” That’s a rough sickness. Even I wouldn’t wish that sort of death on my enemy.

“Which I suspect he will have caught from a possessed, nocturnal animal. Probably a badger.” If I ever get sick in this country I would rather just endure the ride home and die in a carriage. These doctors are not touching me with a ten foot pole!

“Where would he have come across a possessed badger?” Catherine asked thankfully. That sounds absolutely unrealistic and not how you even got Cholera. Not that I don’t know how you get Cholera but I imagine it’s not from a possessed badger.

“If it is Cholera, he will die, will he not?” Holding her a little tighter as a cue to sound a lot more concerned. You have to make it believable that you’re distraught that he might die!

“It’s a strong possibility that we must face.” Looking at Orlo who kept the same straight face he usually has.

“Oh my little man.” THE POOR BABY! I WILL WEEP WITH A BOTTLE OF WINE AND GLORIOUS MUSIC!

“The Doctor is working hard on cures. It may be something else.”

“Has he said anything? Is he talking?” Why would he be concerned if he’s talking? Grigor might as well give a shit if he truly dies or not.

“He speaks intermittently. Much of it is deranged. Said he was a wolf, and wanted to eat Swedish children for breakfast. And there was some talk of what he’d like to do to Chiara and with various ladies of the court. I’ll spare you the details.” My body ran cold for Catherine to turn and face me. The blood in my body felt as if it dried up as I wanted to vomit. Looking at Grigor as I felt so disgusted with myself.

“Before more bouts of diarrhea and vomiting.” The Archbishop went back in for Grigor to take in a deep breath.

“I will go in to see him.” Say what?

“Do not risk your life.” Elizabeth told him as he stopped in the doorway.

“I want to be there for my friend.” Bullshit! He could give an absolute shit about Peter at this point!

“I had no idea your husband was so brave, Georgina.”

“Oh yes famously so.”

“In more ways than one.” Adding into the conversation for George to turn and face me.

“Just being honest.” An angry snake she is when I add my own little comments. Settle down hypocrites.

Orlo, Catherine, and I huddled into our own group to see the expression of Catherines face change from the fake grieving widow to an excited future ruler. Must admit this is a little exciting for me as well.

“If this is Cholera, he could be dead within the day.” Orlo told us as Catherine was beginning to smile slightly but trying to control herself.

“Right. That means..”

“Yes. Yes it will be yours. You will rule Russia.” By God it’s going to actually happen.

“After all our planning..it just..”

“Falls right into your lap.” Orlo finished as the doors opened back up. The ArchBishop came out of the room to take off his mask. Remember when I said that this planning became stale? I stand corrected and I was completely wrong. This just made everything better.

“In light of this terrible situation, a meeting is being called to deal with the possible transition of power.”

“To me.” Easy Catherine. That’s a little too exciting for someone who's losing their husband.

“Indeed. It seems so. You are the next...should the worst happen.” Seems like the worst is about to happen right before them. If it’s going this quickly then I might be going home soon! Finally an end to this horrid nightmare and cesspool!

“Prepare with prayer, and the senate will be called.”

“I look forward to it.” Damn it Catherine!

“Not him dying. That is bad. And sad. And we hope for the best and a speedy recovery.” If I could slap my own face I would without making this seem like we’re excited that Peter is dying.

“God will be with us. He always is.” The Archbishop left the hall for Catherine and Orlo to talk amongst themselves. I need to talk to Grigor. I can’t stand being apart from him at nights for it is his warmth I believe that is keeping me sane. I don’t think I can tell him that I think I’m starting to love him but atleast telling him I need him is a good start.

*Grigors P.O.V.*

DIE! DIE YOU HORRIBLE HUMAN! YOU THINK YOU CAN SLEEP WITH MY OWN LOVE BECAUSE YOU’RE THE EMPEROR! DIE DIE DIE! I WILL KILL YOU AND WILL LIVE PEACEFULLY IN MY OWN LIFE!

Removing the pillow to see that he was still breathing! Bastard! Slamming the pillow back onto him to push down even further in hopes that I might finish the job! Just die! How hard is it to kill someone who's already dying! Talking about Chiara as if she’s just a common peasant!

“What are you doing!?” George yelled as I continued to push down harder and harder.

“What is right and you know it George! I have to do something!”

“Fuck!” George pulled me back as we stopped to see Peter was still breathing. Dragging me from his bed towards the middle of his room.

“I was given the choice to be a man or a child! I’ve decided to become a man for the sake of my sanity!”

“You poisoned him?”

“Arsenic. From the wall in his borscht!” Feeling the cold slap from George as she was in full rage of my actions.

“What happens to us when he’s dead? Think what Peter provides for us!”

“You...you..”

“You’re a stupid fool Grigor!” She took a deep breath to calm herself down.

“Our situation is complex. Yet also simple! We have a safe life with Peter! Luxury, security, a place in court. Who’s he gonna be replaced by? Catherine!? We’re nothing to her! What happens to us then? Not to mention Chiara is making it much more difficult to handle this situation. No thanks to you!”

“So you may have a lover but I may not!” I love Chiara and this marriage is non-existent!

“Grigor?” Peter called for me as I turned to see him barely awake and moving. Say something George! You hypocritical bitch say something!

“We’re here.” George, like a mother goose, flew to Peter's aid. Well. It’s very clear now on where my life stands now. George has made her bed and it is time for me to make my own with a Duchess who isn’t afraid to get the job done when it needs to be done.

Letting go of the pillow to march out of the room and slamming the doors shut. Taking in a few deep breaths to calm myself before scampering off to Chiara. Chiara? Where is she? Perhaps in her chambers!

It was like seeing a light at the end of the tunnel heading to her apartment! The outline of the room was glowing before my eyes. Chiara..my love. The only woman in this world that can make my knees buckle to bow at her feet. That fire is intoxicating to the point that I might die of happiness.

Slamming the door open to see Chiara was in front of the flames looking directly into them. Her head slowly turned to face me with a somber look. A bottle of wine sitting next to her looked thoroughly used. Oh my precious flame. Closing the door to sit down next to her as she went back into looking into the fire.

“I placed my blade against his neck threatening to take his life away. Why didn’t I slice it open? Tell me why I didn’t Grigor?” She asked for me to place my hand on her cheek.

“What happened before I came in?”

“He was mad that I helped Velementov at the front for strategy. He drew a sword on me and I fought back. I won and threatened him that if he were to ever draw his sword on me that I would win. I...I should’ve sliced his throat open and strung him up as if he was game to place on my wall.” I feel like I should tell her that I’m the one that poisoned him. That he is dying in his own bed because the world would be better without him! She was literally going to kill him before I even came into the room!

“Chiara. I’m the one who caused him to become ill. I poisoned him in the borscht while he was eating dinner.” Her expression was the same as before till it clicked in her mind. Her entire face went from a beautiful red to a ghostly white in a matter of seconds.

“Holy shit..” She whispered to turn her attention to the fire. Is she going to tell Catherine? Not that Catherine might care much but what if she does? Would she tell the court? No...no what have I done!

“I would ask why but that..oh my god.” Turning her head to face me as I gulped.

“If it helps, I did it for you. For us..for everyone in the court that his idiocy will go away.” Her lips were slightly open with her breathing beginning to rise.

That lovely color began returning to her cheek as she climbed on top of me and wrapped herself around me. Those entrancing lips striked against mine as my hands traveled up her back to pull her shirt. She stopped to place her index finger on my lips.

“For you committing such a horrendous act. Allow me.” Removing her finger to place a kiss on my lips, to my cheek, then right underneath my jaw line. I could see the stars from how well she was working those luscious lips. Her hand gripped my cock to start playing it through my pants. God her touch. It’s almost too delicious to even allow. My eyes rolled back for me to lay down on the rug for her kisses to start moving down my body.

I love her...I hope that she knows that I would kill an army for her without regret...

~~~

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