#have we not sung enough of praises on your nose for you to feel that way king???

[rickybaby]

Dear Daniel, love thyself and most importantly thy nose and side profile xoxo 🌹

[acid-ixx]

You mention in the first story that the Batfam finally realizes where we are because jon showed Damian our picture while calling us his parent- so I was wondering about how Damian reacted to that? Like did he realize we’d left at that point or did he just get hit in the face with that info?

— related post !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated

a/n: y'all i have clogged nose and i hate it LMAO. anyways, i'm gonna write smth about this soon but damian's character for both the series again & again and this series is genuinely one of the more complicated to write because of how he's raised but it really goes like this—

"jon... what do you mean? that's my—"

he cuts himself off before he could continue running his mouth off. damian ignores the slight raise of jon's eyebrow, his thoughts running a mile every second.

his parent? no, never once in his life has damian considered you his parent, pushing you away whenever you try to bond with him. whatever gifts you gave him, no matter how small, or big, expensive, or inexpensive they are, he always makes a show of ripping them away right in front of you.

he told you himself. you are not his parent, never will be his parent, you'll never replace talia's standing, and there will never be a time where damian will see you as one. dick, jason, tim, literally anyone can consider you as theirs, but damian is a product of two genetically perfect individuals— you are imperfect, and it's not your business to coddle him just because you are merely married to his father in paper.

no matter how much you softly gaze at him with loving eyes, invite him with welcoming arms, praise his passion for drawing; all you'll do is weaken him and damian hates feeling weak, hates how you tempt him into melting into a puddle. that automatically makes you a burden in his book.

he hates you, and he should've been glad you disappeared off of the face of the manor.

yet the record stands still: why are you with jon? why do you hold him like he is the world in the picture? what does he mean by "sorry, damian, but me and my parents are gonna go to the carnival later!"? you, as in, bruce's spouse? why are you with them, of all people?

... why does jon get to have fun, with you? and he doesn't...?

and yet he couldn't reply to him, not when his friend babbles on for longer about his... parent. about how you, make him feel so complete. that you'll be the one helping him with his science fare project, how you two spent the night yesterday building a volcano, how you treat him with ice cream every time he achieves a good enough grade for a subject, how you, you, you always spoil jon, always comfort him, read him bedtime stories, matched bracelets, sung karaoke together, played board games with each other, picked him up from school, help him with assignments—

the more jon goes on, the more damian wants to rip his hair out. he doesn't know, doesn't know why he's suddenly pissed. is it because jon can never shut up, or because he couldn't shut up about you? about how perfect you are apparently? how you're the ideal parent he never once bat an eye on? the domestic life jon seems to brag about, it's something damian secretly wanted, and it's all ripped away from him.

it makes damian wonder, would you have done the same for him?

he knows it in himself, that if he hadn't pushed you away, he might've been in jon's place.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hear me out.... Steven with a praise kink 👀

You jokingly call him a good boy (because I call him my human golden retriever) and BAM. Confused boner! You take advantage of it and keep teasing him.

(Marc and Jake would never let him live it down, either)

Ijcioajfidi HELP. THIS. AHHH. I’m not sure why chess playing came into my brain. But here we are, reader likes and plays chess and is pretty good at it.

(Side note: in one typo I wrote ‘chestboard’ instead of ‘chessboard’. You just know my subconscious is thinking about Steven’s boobs.)

Good Boy

Steven Grant x F!Reader Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: INSTANT BONER, p in v sex, teasing, swearing, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 2147

_______________________________________

“So, think about how you would stop me.” You said as you looked from the chessboard to Steven. 

His brow was furrowed in concentration, his glasses pushed high on his nose. A few rough curls dangled over his forehead as he bit softly at his thumb in thought. 

“I could move here?” 

“That’s really good.” You smile. “Excellent move, because you’ve also stopped my bishop.” You point to the piece on the board. 

Steven smiled. He liked chess, played against the computer occasionally. But it wasn’t much more than a way to pass the time. 

However when he found out that you had won some amateur competitions when you were in school, and that you still played regularly, his excitement at the prospect of playing a game with you was so completely heart-warming that you instantly said yes. 

In the first game, you’d been determined to go easy on him. Just to get a feel of Steven as a player. You’d accidentally won in less than ten minutes. 

There had been a small tinge of panic, a worry that, like some of the previous partners you’d had, he would be annoyed. Instead Steven grinned, thrilled that you’d beaten him and sung your praises until you were so positively overwhelmed you had had to kiss him repeatedly to get him to stop. 

This was your second game. He had asked in that delightfully enthusiastic way he had if you could play again, “if it’s not too much trouble love, and you want to of course, don’t want to be annoying, do I? No. But I’d love it if you could teach me some strategies?” 

“So I’m going to move here,” you picked up your knight and moved it slowly. 

Steven frowned. “But then I can take it?” 

“I know.” You grinned. 

He paused and looked at you, unable to stop himself from smiling at your glee and then nodded. “Okie dokie, there’s something I’m not seeing then.” 

“Is there?” Your innocent tone didn’t fool him for a second. 

“There definitely is.” 

You chuckled, looking back to the board. “Good boy. Look, take your time, but don’t worry if you can’t find it, I’ll explain.” 

There was a long pause. You frowned a little and glanced back to him. His eyes were a little wide, his cheeks dusted with pink. He was sitting stiffly now, his hand clenched into a fist with his knuckles pressed against his mouth. 

“Steven?”

“Hmm.” The sound was too quick. He didn’t look up from the board.

“You okay?” 

He nodded, a short sharp and very un-Steven-like movement. 

You paused for a second, looking at his features carefully as you wondered if Marc or Jake had fronted suddenly. Though, why they would try to hide it from you, you weren’t sure. 

On further inspection you were pretty sure that it was Steven. 

“You sure you’re okay.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled and swallowed, looking through the board and not seeing it. 

“Okay…” You swallowed, watched him for a moment longer before you pointed at your rook. “If you take my knight, I’m going to take your pawn with my rook and you’ll be in check. You can’t take the rook with your queen because then you’d be in check here. So you’d have to move your king like this, and then I could move my other bishop and you’d be in checkmate.”

You looked up at him, chewing your bottom lip. Had he had enough? Was he bored? Fed up of your explanations? 

“Okay. Right. So I won’t do that, I’ll move here.” He spoke quickly, still not looking at you. 

You nodded, watching his move. “Good, so…”

The moment ‘good’ left your mouth Steven sucked in a breath, shuddering. 

A sound you very much recognised. 

Oh.

You quickly thought over your previous conversion: move this piece, are you okay, take your time, good boy-

Good boy. That was it. 

A small smile stretched across your lips. Steven was still staring, fixated, at the chessboard and didn’t notice. He moved his piece silently. 

You waited a beat before you spoke. “That’s a great move Steven, good boy.” 

He shivered straight away, his breathing hitched. He tried to cover the sound with his hand as he closed his eyes.  

“What’s wrong Steven?” You teased slowly. 

His eyes snapped up to yours, wide and embarrassed. 

“Don’t you like being called a good boy?”

The smallest groan grumbled in his chest, his muscles tensing. 

“Or, is it that you like it a little too much? Hmm? Being my good boy?” 

His skin flushed with heat as he glared at you. His eyes dark. 

“What?” You bit your lip as you grinned. “A good boy would answer questions when asked.” 

“Please.” He whispered.

“Please what?” 

“Please stop. Marc’s taking the piss.” 

You frowned, the playful tease dropping from your tone. “Why’s Marc taking the piss?” You’d done kinker stuff with all of them, Steven liking being called a ‘good boy’ wasn’t really something to write home about. 

Steven sighed, pouting a little as he closed his eyes and took his hand away from his mouth. “Because I’ve got a hard on.” 

You bit back the giggle that wanted to spill from your chest. Something about him having to close his eyes to say it was just so perfect. “So?”

“It happened the second you said it.” 

“The very second?” 

“Hmm.” Steven kept his eyes closed. Interesting.

“So literally, I said it, instant boner.” 

“Yep.”

You couldn’t resist one playful tease. “So, if you’re in a park and you hear some say good boy to their dog, is it bam, erection?”

Steven shifted a little as you said those two words, trying his hardest not to moan. His cock was pressing, painfully hard, against the stiff material of his jeans. “No.”

“No?”

“It’s never happened before. And now- Marc, shut the fuck up.” His voice was a little needy until it came time to address his alter.

“Marc behave.” You said kindly. “So… it’s only ever happened now?”

“Hmm.”

“When I said it?”

“Yeah.”

“What happens when I say it again?” You whispered. 

Steven squirmed a little, even the thought of you saying it getting him hot under the collar. “Feels… nice. Sort of.” He pushed at his throbbing cock with the heel of his hand and opened his eyes, his head slightly drooped. 

“Sort of?” 

“Yeah, like… you know, he jumps to attention every time you say it.” He blinked heavily, his cheeks burning. God, you must think he was a right little freak.

“Good boy.” 

He groaned, unable to stop the sound in time and looked up at you. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t nice that you were making fun of him like Marc and… oh. 

Realisation dawned. You were biting your lip and smiling. You liked it. A lot. 

Steven swallowed audibly. 

Slowly you stood and walked around the table to stand beside him. Steven pushed out his chair a little, angling it so that he was facing you. He went to stand but you gently pressed on his shoulder. He followed your command and stayed sitting down, looking up at you with pleading eyes. 

He played at his jumper sleeve nervously as you watched him. His dick hard and pulsating with need, throbbing in time to his heartbeat. 

He swallowed again. “Love-”

“Good boy.” 

He moaned softly, screwing his face up as his cock twitched at your words. 

You bent down quickly, grabbing hold of his cheeks and kissing him deeply. Using his brief surprise to slip your tongue into his mouth and push him back against the chair. 

Steven whimpered against you, his hands coming up to hold your shoulders and the back of your neck as you ravaged his mouth and robbed him of his breath.

“Good boy.” You muttered between the kisses, swallowing his hushed whimpers and soft moans. Revelling in the way he pulled you tighter, needy and desperate for anything you’d give him. 

You brushed your hand against his groin, squeezing the outline of his cock. 

“Fuck!” Steven hissed, clawing at your top and thrusting up into your touch. The rest of his words were lost as you kissed him hard and lightly bit his bottom lip. 

You trailed your lips down to his jaw and neck, sucking at his pulse point and pushing him even further back into the seat. 

His breathy moans sent a wave of heat along your spine to your core, twisted in your belly and overwhelmed every thought. 

You squeezed his cock again, the heat of him radiating through your hand. “Good boy.” 

The words barely left your lip before Steven answered you with an accompanying groan, his length twitching against your palm. 

You moaned, so dizzily high with the sounds of his pleasure. Without thinking you undo his belt and unzip his jeans, pulling his trousers and boxers down to his calves in a hurried motion with a little help from Steven as he raises his hips. His cock springs free, needy and weeping with need. 

You take him in hand, stroking him twice before pulling his jumper over his head. He whines at the loss, chasing your mouth and kissing you urgently the second the material is off and on the floor. 

With your lips desperately pressed to his you pull down your own trousers and underwear, kicking one leg free and not bothering about the other as you take his length back in your hand and straddle his thighs. 

Him being so worked up, so desperate for you when you hadn’t even touched him is a stronger aphrodisiac that anything you’d ever experienced.

You don’t even give him a second to react before you’re lining him up with your already soaking entrance and slowly sinking down. “Such a good boy Steven,” you breathe, your voice rising in pitch at the end as he inches deeper, his thick cock splitting you so wide. 

He moans headily, pressing his face into your chest and mouthing at the tops of your breast through your top. 

“Love, you’re so wet.” He bites his bottom hip, his fingers pressing against your waist hard enough to leave bruises. 

You pull at the back of his hair slightly, scratching your nails along his scalp as he finally bottoms out. He pulses within you, twitching and aching and so, so close already. 

“You’re my good boy, aren’t you Steven?” 

He whined against you as you rocked your hips, quickly starting to lift yourself up and sink back down, setting a brutal pace as you began to bounce on his cock.

“Such a good boy letting me use you like this.” 

Steven moaned, chasing your hips and thrusting deep. He was drunk on you, needed you. Every moment, every word you said sent waves of pleasure through his body and made his head spin. 

Even in his intoxicated state his muscle memory kicked in, bucking up into you perfectly to make you see stars. Each spot that would break you apart memorised and stored deep within his very soul. 

He fucked up into you harder, growling with his desperate need. His leg kicked out and caught against the table's edge, rocking the chessboard and knocking pieces over. 

The sound just loud enough to register in his mind. “Sorry, I-“

“Doesn’t matter Steven, please,” you moaned. At this angle the head of him constantly pressed so deep, rubbing consistently over that special spot and not even giving you a chance to breathe. No pause or reprieve from the oncoming onslaught of pleasure that threatened to overtake you. 

“Gonna cum, gonna cum,” you whined, your thighs shaking and thrusts growing sloppy. 

Steven growled, grabbing hold of your hips and pistoning upwards, not allowing your pleasure to dip. “Please, please, please, cum on my cock, please love, please. Tell me I’m your-”

“You’re my good boy.” You came dizzyingly hard, your fingers digging into Steven’s shoulders and leaving marks. 

But he didn’t care. Couldn't care as you squeezed and fluttered around him, moaning ‘good boy’, and shaking as you fell apart in ecstasy. 

Steven gasped, the air catching in his throat, the pleasure so potent it was like his heart stopped. He came deep, hot and thick, his hips still thrusting to prolong your high and to fuck his spend deeper into you. 

You held each other tightly as you recovered, breathing hard, sweat sticking to your skin. It was only then that you pulled off your top and bra, discarding them on the floor with the rest of your clothing. 

Steven nuzzled into you, softly kissing along your collarbone as you stroked his hair. 

He chuckled suddenly and you moved back every so slightly to look him in the eyes. 

“What?” 

He grinned, dreamy and love sick, up at you. “Marc’s changed his mind. He’d quite like you to call him ‘good boy’ too.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love

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[babyhatesreality]

Hi if you take request I just have this in my mind:

Sometimes when you are somewhere outside (like in a mall) you get distracted by all those people and colorful stores. And if you don’t hold your daddies hands you will easily go another way.

So what if she is to distracted by something and Steve and Bucky just further without noticing that she didn’t follow (maybe they are stressed or smt like that) and she just follows someone who looks like one of her daddy’s and she only notices later that this was not her daddy and she was lost.

Okay so first things first, I'm old and don't know how to put the two similar asks together nicely so here’s a screenshot and get off my lawn. :P (edited to add: Also for @justme1234456 who requested this too!<3)

Second, I had to alter both asks a bit to align it with what I see as canon in my AU. I really hope that’s okay, and I’m sorry if this isn’t what you were looking for. I have to be honest about what I think could actually happen in this little world I’ve created otherwise I just can’t write it truthfully. If that offends anyone, I’m truly sorry for hurting feelings, and I encourage you to find what you’re needing with many of the other insanely-more-talented-than-I-am writers on this site. 

Break Away

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), language, pet names, praise, scared reader, angst, tears, large and pushy crowds, overprotective Papa and Daddy, fluff fluff fluff and did I mention fluff? 

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

What started as a nice walk in the park quickly turned into one of their worst nightmares. 

It had been raining for days in New York. Normally you wouldn’t have minded, having a massive pile of toys to play with and books to have read to you, and an endless supply of other family members in the tower to keep you entertained. But you were fidgety, constantly needing to be on the move. Your daddies had taken you to the big gym floor and set you loose on the giant running track, they’d taken you to the Olympic-sized indoor pool, and they’d even managed to convince Tony to let them take the Quinjet on a quick spin around the state. All of which managed to keep you satisfied...for that day. Then the next day they’d find you with your nose pressed up against the sliding glass door to the patio, watching the pouring rain, asking politely if you could go outside. Four thousand times in a row. 

Finally the rain let up right before your bedtime, and the ground became okay enough to not be a giant puddle by morning. You were so excited about going outside, wiggling around so much, that Bucky later grumbled to Steve that it had been easier escaping from the German army than getting you into your coat and rain boots. 

“We goin’ to the park, we goin’ to the park, we goin’ to the PAAAAAAAAAAARK!!!” you sung at the top of your little lungs, running back and forth with joy as you held onto Steve and Bucky’s hands, walking through the hallways of the tower. You squealed in delight when they both lifted their arms in tandem, swinging you into the air. “Again again please!!” you begged, laughing uproariously with delight when they obliged. 

Steve grinned down at you as you giggled gleefully. He was craving the fresh air just as much as you were and felt as joyful as you did. “Okay, so when we get to Central Park, what are you going to do, angel?” he asked you. 

“Hold your hand always!”

“That’s my smart girl. You hold my hand or Daddy’s hand at all times. And what happens if we get separated and you don’t see us?”

“Look for a ‘Venger to help!” 

“Right again! I’m so proud of you!” You giggled and blushed, wiggling around extra hard to let Papa know how happy his praise made you. “Now. Last one. If you don’t see someone who can help you, what do you do?”

“Light up shoes and stay PUT!”

“Great job, baby!” Steve cheered, suddenly swinging around and lifting you up into the air while you laughed crazily. All the littles in the Avengers Tower had light up shoes with tiny trackers in them, so if anything ever happened to them outside the tower and they were in little space, they’d always have a tracker on them that a caregiver could follow. It wasn’t too hard to convince any little to wear the shoes that lit up when they stomped; in fact, you all had gone through several pairs of light up shoes, delighted at the light up features. Hey, the system worked. 

Bucky grinned at the two of you, reaching back out for your hand the moment your feet touched the ground. “Good job remembering the rules, Trouble,” he said. You wiggled with joy and blushed again, making him chuckle. He looked up at his husband. “You sure you wanna try this without caps and glasses?” he asked again, raising his eyebrows. “No disguises at all?”

Steve smile warmly at his worrywart husband. “We’re not undercover, Buck. We live in this city too, and everyone already knows it anyways. It’ll be okay, and if it’s not, we’ll just ask people to respect our space or we’ll go a different direction. It’ll be fine.”

Bucky kept the smile, but tightened his grip on your hand. 

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

A little while later, the three of you were enjoying the birds singing, the fresh, cool breeze blowing through the trees, and the hum of human activity all around you. It was so lovely, it seemed like everyone in New York City was trying to get outside to see the sun. You held tight to your daddies’ hands, but your head was constantly whipping around, trying to take in all the sights at once.  

Suddenly, there was a scream in the distance. Bucky and Steve’s heads snapped in the direction of the sound automatically, their grips tightening on yours. Out of nowhere, this group of seven or eight teens came barreling at the three of you, all with their phones out, screaming about Captain America and The Winter Soldier. With the speed of light, Bucky tucked you underneath his vibranium arm, cuddling you against his body to keep you safe. This meant you had to let go of Papa’s hand, and you tried to turn your head to make sure he was okay, but Daddy’s grip on you was too strong and you couldn’t see him. 

Before you knew it, the crowd grew suddenly larger, and you heard people pointing at the group of teens in recognition- they were something called a...’influencer’ or a ‘TikTok star’ or something...you didn’t understand all the yelling. You got very, very still, hanging desperately onto Daddy’s shirt as he tried to be polite- Avengers had an image to maintain, especially the ‘reformed’ ones like him- but get these people to back off. 

One of the boys grabbed onto the vibranium arm that was holding you, screaming about how cool it was. It scared you so badly, not seeing this boy until his hands were reaching right where you were at and the loudness, that you stumbled backwards, causing you to slip out from underneath Bucky’s arm.

 Bucky’s head whipped around the second he lost contact with you. “Steve!” he hollered over the melee as he tried to move the kid away from you. “Get her!” All you caught was a glimpse of Steve’s searching blue eyes before a tidal wave of people crashed into you. It was insane- some sort of mob mentality had taken over. Between the two famous Avengers and the internet sensations surrounding them, everyone lost their minds. You tried to push against the tide, tried desperately to keep your eyes on either of them, but the crush of the crowd was too much. Your throat choked up in fear- you couldn’t even call out for them. You were carried away by the wave. It seemed to go on forever and you couldn’t stop it as it pushed you farther and farther away. 

Finally there was a break in the people that had been crowding you, and you pushed with all your might to get free of the mob. Trying to keep calm and be brave, you looked around, remembering Rule #2 as hard as you could. Your heart leapt when you saw a long mane of red hair a distance away, and you instantly ran towards it, thinking it was Aunt Natasha. Just as you were about to throw your arms around the woman, she suddenly turned. It wasn’t Auntie Nat. You mumbled an awkward apology and ran in the other direction, embarrassed. 

Gulping hard to try to keep your scared sobs inside, you came to a halt. You looked around and didn’t see anything you recognized. There was a pretty, tall fountain with an angel on top close to you, but you didn’t remember it from before. “Light up shoes and stay put,” you whispered to yourself. “Light up shoes and stay put.” You stomped your feet as hard as you could, seeing the rainbow lights activate. You looked around desperately, waiting for them to come and rescue you. You stomped harder and harder, the tears building in your eyes. No Papa. No Daddy. You slowly walked the few steps to the fountain and carefully sat down, the tears now running down your face. Every now and then, you stomped your feet to keep the shoes lit up. “Please find me,” you whispered tearfully, pleading into the air. 

Suddenly, there were shrieks and gasps coming from in front of you. You looked up to see people suddenly rushing to the sides, looking like they were dodging to get out of the way of a speeding train. And they were. A speeding train in the form of Daddy. 

Bucky came racing towards you faster than you’d ever seen anyone run. You could almost see the flames coming off his feet. The crowd parted for him, but he didn’t give two flying fucks if he ran any of them over. With barely a bend of the knees, he came flying over the stone balustrade walls surrounding the fountain, his eyes locked on your tiny form. All you could do was reach your hands to him before he reached you, scooping you up and crushing you to his chest like he was never going to let you go again. 

You just clung to him, still too frightened to do anything else. “Hey, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here and he’s not letting you go,” Bucky was murmuring into your ear, so fast you could barely make out the words. “I am so sorry baby. Daddy will never let that happen again, you hear me? Never again. Never, never again. I’m right here.” You just whimpered and nodded, your tears soaking the front of his shirt. You heard another set of feet come to a screeching halt near you, but you were still too worked up to turn to see if it was Papa. You knew if it wasn’t, Daddy was going to keep you safe, and that was all you could handle at the moment. “Deep breaths, baby, can you do that for me? Can you take some deep breaths?” Daddy asked frantically, tilting his head back to look at you. “Can you take some deep breaths with me? Some deep breaths with Daddy?” You managed to nod again, and relief flooded his face. “That’s my good girl. Okay, we’re gonna sit down and take some breaths together.”

Bucky sat on the edge of the fountain where he’d found you. He turned you in his lap so you could see Steve sitting next to the both of you. Your left hand shot out instantly, needing to touch him too. Steve took your hand, covering it with his other, stroking and patting it, his eyes a warring storm of fear and relief, while Bucky held you tight, 

“Okay, baby, let’s breathe together. You remember how we breathe when we’re scared?” Daddy asked, looking down at you, his tone a bit calmer now. You could see he was still struggling too, and that gave you the nudge to be brave enough to breathe together. You nodded. “We can do it. We’ll do it together, Daddy and Baby. Okay, here we go. Breathe in.” You two locked eyes and breathed in, Bucky counting as he inhaled. “One, two, three, four,” he said on the air, then nodded at you. You held your breath with him as his lips moved, counting to four again, but not letting any air out. “Breathe out, one, two, three, four, five, six,” Bucky said, keeping his eyes locked on you while you went through the exercise together. He silently counted to six as you held your breath again. You went through the cycle three times together, feeling better and better each time. When you finished, Daddy smiled proudly at you. “I knew you could do it, Baby. Daddy loves you so much.”

“Love you too Daddy,” you said, tucking your forehead into his chest again, happy that he was okay now too. You brought Papa’s hand up to your face. “Love you too Papa.” You squeezed his fingers, pressing them in to your cheek.

“Papa loves you so much,” Steve responded, his voice tight with emotion. “Are you okay honey?” You pursed your lips for a moment, but nodded. 

“M’okay. Big peoples.”

“Yeah, that crowd was crazy, right?”

“Too loud.”

“Definitely too loud. I’m so sorry baby, that should never have happened.”

“They all go away?”

“Yeah, they’re all away now. You remember how Uncle Tony says that he can watch everybody everywhere?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he saw on his cameras that the mean crowd was bothering us and his flying suits came to help.”

“WOW.”

“We’ll have to thank him when we get home.”

“Okay, I help.”

Both your daddies chuckled, relieved that you were starting to sound like you again. “What do you think, Baby? Do you want to go home?” Bucky asked, bouncing you a little, trying to gauge how you were feeling. 

“Um,” you said. Now that you were over the fear, you weren’t QUITE ready to be back inside just yet. “We look at duckies please?” The men exchanged a quick look, checking in with each other, before they turned back to you, smiling. 

“Okay, Trouble, we will go look at the ducks,” Bucky said softly, before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Good manners.” He stood up and was about to tell you that you were only staying at the park if he carried you for the rest of the day, but the iron grip you had on his tee shirt and the way your legs locked around his waist let him know that you had no intention of being set down, anyways. He pressed another kiss into your hair. 

They walked to a quieter section by the water, grinning and laughing as you insisted on pointing to each and every duck, naming them one by one. After about ten minutes, Steve got a pedicab to get you all back to the street so you wouldn’t have to walk through all the people again. You’d made a full recovery by the time you all got back to Avengers’ Tower, babbling excitedly about all the ducky friends you’d made today and making plans to bring them bread tomorrow.

But Bucky still didn’t set you down for the rest of the evening. And you were okay with that. 

[allovertheplace-writing]

Do you think you could write about Kyojuro and a reader that has separation anxiety?🤔🤔🤭

Demon Slayer

Character(s): Kyojuro Rengoku

Genre: Fluff + Comfort

Type: Headcanon

Description: Who knew a lunch trip and an impending departure would end with more than a few feelings spilt?

Warning(s): Gender-Neutral Reader(My Default), Reader is Part of The Corp, Pre-Relationship(We've got Pinning :D, Can Also be Read Completely Platonically)

I sure can!

Thanks for requesting btw, I appreciate it <33

The morning sun encroached upon the harsh shadows, filtering through the rustling leaves as if dancing across his figure was it's only purpose. Hugging the apples of his cheeks and glittering in his amber eyes. His voice, though boisterous, was gentle upon your ears, breathy but not overbearingly so. He sung praises and inquired what you'd both eat upon reaching town. Something he did perhaps too often when he was with you

"It all sounds good, Kyo." A hushed laugh fell from your lips, a smile tugging at your cheeks. "Perhaps we should visit them all, then! Having good food before we part is a must and having more wouldn't hurt." With how he marched on, he couldn't see the way your face froze mid beam

Clammy hands clenched and tugged at your layered pants, releasing only once your anxious heart settled enough to seem okay, "You shouldn't spend so much, you know." His hair moved with the shake of his head, falling over his shoulders and tickling his neck, "If it's for lunch with you, then how much I spend means nothing!" You nudged his arm when he looked back at you in earnest, your face warm, "Be responsible!"

Empty paths soon met bustling streets and your personal spaces met invasion. Shoulders were bumped and distance was inevitable. He would stop each time and stand as an impenetrable wall until you reached him again, however

Sunlight was blocked by buildings both short and tall, alleys were painted gray by blocked shadows and towering walls. Yet it was warm, smiles passed and laughs exchanged. Some couples, some families. Everyone seemed to feel at home. The subtle aching in your soul felt far, but pinched with every scare.

"Ah, there it is!" His calloused hand found yours, grip firm but gentle, "C'mon, (Y/n)!" He tugged you forward, guiding you like the breezing wind. You stumbled once he pushed from the crowd, sides knocking with another's. Relief of pressure settled on your bones, shaking them with each calming breath. He was still smiling, beaming just like the blazing sun. Everything about him was bright and it drew you in just as it had the day you met him. It made you feel like a gullible moth, doomed to die at the wailing flames arms

Someone sat you both down quickly, a nervous energy shaking them similar to you. The building smelled rich and spices tickled your nose with every breath. "What are you going to have? I'm thinking of ramen or miso." Of course you are, you wanted to say, but you remained quiet instead. "(Y/n)?" You breathed deeply, "Ramen." He laughed, "Can never go wrong with that!"

You wondered how he could do that, smile when death and heartache looms at every corner. Usually he put you at ease, but today all he seemed to do was squeeze your heart in his hands. How many more times am I going to see you beam? Is today the last day I have with you? You could only hope his eyes didn't recognize your boiling anguish. Nothing ever went your way though, did it?

With your orders placed, he continued chatting idly despite the one sidedness. His voice was quieter than normal, as if he was more focused on gauging your engagement. "Hey, (Y/n)?" You lifted your head with a hum, eyes curious from his call out. "What do you call a cat without whiskers?" A huff jumped from your chest, exhaled as a light wheeze, "I don't know, Kyo. What is it call?" A grin stretched across his face, "A whiskful cat!" It was ridiculous, the joke. It shouldn't have made you laugh the way it did yet you hadn't the gull to be mad at that. The silly punful joke shook your very core and stole every bit of air from your lungs

The aching pain you felt was replaced with the rattling of your ribcage and tensing of your tired muscles. "That's..." You took a moment to breathe, leaning against your hand, "That's so stupid, I love it." His smile brightened with yours, "I've got more!" Shifting, you shake your head, "You're going to send me into an early grave, Kyo."

Once your stomachs were full with warm food, you both left and made way to the outskirts of town. The sun layed upon the horizon and the sky became a gentle pink...and your heart sunk lower and lower. All until it pressed uncomfortably against your twisting gut

He moved forward with his head held so high, as if there were no doubts within his mind. A part of you envied that despite it being far from the truth. But perhaps you envied in his strength rather than his stature. "(Y/n)?" He called you, stopping with a turn. "Yeah?" You found the cloth of your pants within your hands once again. "Are you alright?" Your breath caught in your throat. "You've been a little out of it today and...well, everytime we have to go you seem to be." Steeling yourself, you managed to speak beneath your breath, "I...I hate leaving- you leaving.."

"It gets..hard to function when I realize we won't be near each other...I can't breathe right knowing that-" Warmth rests on your shoulder, like a blanket placed over you by a loved on a chilly night, and only moments later...it finds your body. Enveloping your heart and mind, drowning doubts and bubbling fears, soothing any weeping from your anxious soul. The weight pressed to your chest alleviates some of the pain, little by little until it's just the shaking of your figure

Your lungs ached as if you ran miles to reach his arms. "We'll always come back to each other..." He squeezed, "I promise." Carefully, he leaned back from you, "No matter the rivers or mountains, I'll come back to you." And as the stars began to rise, he smiled as gently as they twinkled.

[starter-library]

GOOD MORNING BEDLAM'S LULU LYRIC STARTERS

EDIT AS YOU SEE FIT

I Am Sad

“Dance it off and let them see only ever part of me”

“You're far too quick to let me in”

“I feel your fear it hurts my chest”

“I too am fighting loneliness”

“I'm sad to say that I am sad”

“I'm sad to say it, but I've done the best that I can. Just had to say,My best is sad”

“I've done it in forty four states”

“Steal your words and bite my tongue cus every story's now been sung”

Blue House

“When I woke the sun was new”

“Even ink that marked our height will be repainted out of sight”

“It all must go under the knife every dent from making life”

“The fall of Rome was bound to be. Not to endure eternally”

“Now it's time to leave what we know, chase the new and let love grow”

“It's more than bricks that make a home”

“She'll learn to love and all it's ache and how to mend after it breaks”

Hold Me

“Well I've been sitting around since a quarter to three”

“Ain't found a god for whom I'd fall to my knees, But I haven't had a half bad time”

“I won't win an award for what's inside of my brain, Just found out New Jersey was a U.S. state”

“I've got you on my arm as we walk in the rain, So I guess you'd say I'm in my prime”

“Baby tell me once more that you're mine”

“May be losing all my sanity to the hunger of humanity if you're losing it right next to me I swear I'll be just fine”

“My mouth will run itself right into first place so I guess that I'm doing ok”

“You love me still can't seem to change that a bit, wouldn't have it any other way”

“Once broke my nose just from falling down”

“My talking voice is as loud as my shout”

“I'm trying to keep it together as I'm falling apart”

“I find you to be a work of art, Need no one else to share my days”

“I am standing here just watching all the people going round. Seems no one else is doing better at figuring this out”

“We're all stumbling around and picking ourselves up but I went tripping into madness and falling into love”

Haint Blue

“I sing your praises to the waning moon”

“I'm haunted and so are you although we smothered all our ceilings in that bright haint blue”

“It's only in my dreams where he lets be, you see I'm waking up to find that the ghost is me”

“Time won't let us be”

“We're on borrowed time since you set me free”

“I'm haunted and so are you”

I’m haunted, can’t you see him too?”

The Haunting

“We keep repeating the same words in heightened speech, with cutting verbs”

“If i don’t hear, your words won’t hurt”

“Never put up any fight except when it’s in my own mind”

“Like a smothered storm my thoughts they go unknown: Patch the boat, mind the water, make it home”

“I’m so scared i’m the one that is to blame”

“But lies will rot the heart and thoughts and never shield me like I think”

“Someday we’ll learn to shut our mouths”

“Over and over and over it goes with the wine playing tricks and the room spinning slow”

“And I’m trying to focus and show you I notice your eyes perfectly match the dress that you’ve chosen”

“And if you’re saying that you love me--say it slow. And I’ll need you to show me”

Enough

“And I hear it And I see it And I breathe it. It echos, echos, Round it resounds without end”

“Sometimes I don't know if I am loved”

“Sometimes I don't know if I'm enough”

“Not even God could love someone like you”

“I've been trying to retrace my tracks, Hoping to find my way back; When the only running was tag, when you know being it won't last”

Blessed Boy

“I have no one to care for, no one to need and only when running am I ever free”

“I'll fly to the moon and I'll never return, There I can rest as I watch the world turn”

“Blessed boy I've heard your voice and I know they've done you wrong”

“In between your fitful dreams will you learn you do belong”

“It takes more than moonlight to cause you to bloom, come to the garden there's plenty of room”

You are Gonna Miss Me

“Always had this feeling that your hearts not really mine and that some perfect lover was always on your mind”

“You are gonna miss me you will miss my face someday”

“Oh my darling boy i was looking up to you- Well not physically except when you put lifts inside your shoes”

“Boy you did me wrong how could you let me fall- couldn't catch me with hands that were that small”

“You want to make all my decisions but i don't want the same”

“Honey this is my show here i always drink for free”

Salt

“But tide will rise and reclaim her command”

“Mother I'm scared your waters are much too high for me”

“Your changeable ways throw me for days as if lost on the sea”

“The water's calm but still I cannot rest while storms are ever raging in my chest”

“From her I was made with love and care but by her hand I'm scattered everywhere”

“Leaning back the water holds my weight now it will be my turn to create”

Lulu

“I see no way will I hold her like the cinema told me to try”

“When I look at you I see no chance of pushing through and I must be the one to say goodnight”

“Some wishes made are wises left behind”

“She kissed me so sweetly and she promised me nothing but sweetness to last”

[reidyoulikeabook]

Sometimes You Just Don’t Know the Answer

4 times you don’t know the answer, and the 1 time you do

This is the 2nd part to Personal Google! (You don’t have to read it to understand this, but it exists if you want to).

Ship: BAU!reader x Spencer Reid

Summary: You’d call yourself a pretty educated individual, and most people wouldn’t argue with that, given that you’re a member of the BAU at Quantico. There’s just something about your best friend Spencer Reid that gets you all tongue tied.

Warnings: Mentions of cases and case-typical violence, mentions of alcohol, Spencer and Reader being idiots again.

Word count: 3k

A/N: The feedback (in asks and the tag reblogs) for Personal Google was so lovely and encouraging and I am very grateful for it! I only made this account a few days ago and I’m already so glad I did :) I hope this is a satisfactory second part and, requests are open!

(This is the Reid I’m imagining here)

“What is up with you and Reid?” Emily’s volume is unmoderated at the best of times but right now it’s like she’s trying to alert the entirety of Virginia to your dating woes.

Dating woes might be a stretch, actually. Somehow, just her implication that something is happening between you and Spencer (even though it isn’t, unless you count two exhausted idiots falling asleep on each other and being too bashful to ever mention it again), is enough to get you feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“Nothing,” you shrug, “Well. I don’t know, honestly, nothing I guess? We haven’t spoken about that night.”

Emily’s eyes rake over you, and you can tell she’s waiting for you to continue.

“There’s nothing!” you object, “We just, it was accidental, we fell asleep because we were watching a documentary and we were tired and neither of us fell asleep on purpose.”

She laughs, dry and amused, “At this rate, you’ll be lucky to have sorted things out before you’re 50.”

You scowl, but it’s only because you know she’s right.

***

You don’t have much time to think about your situation with Spencer for a few weeks, considering the rate at which the cases come rolling in. This newest one arrives within about two days of the last one you’d just wrapped up. It’s actually kind of rude, you’ve decided, that the serial killers of America have decided to deny you two weekends in a row.

You’re briefed on the case quickly: four women have gone missing over the past 7 months from a small town in Ohio. There’s no distinct pattern that can be discerned among the victims, the oldest is 60 and white, the youngest is 23 and Asian-American. However, the first three have been found dead in the past two weeks, all within a mile of each other and all killed with the same MO: ligature strangulation.

“So we have no idea how he’s choosing them,” you say.

“No,” Hotch replies, with a sigh.

Meaning that this is probably going to take a while. Spencer senses the way you tense up a little as you absorb that fact. So he goes out of his way to sit next to you on the plane. Once the discussion about the case is done, he nudges you gently, “Did you bring a book?”

You shake your head, “I finished the one in my go-bag. Didn’t have a chance to replace it.”

“Would you like to read this with me?”

You place your hand on his wrist, gently turning it so you can see the cover, “Spencer this is written in Greek.”

“I can translate,” he says.

You move closer to him then, your head resting just against his plane seat and your chin almost jutting against his shoulder.

“Is this okay?”

He nods. The remaining 45 minutes of the flight are spent with him reading to you softly, adding in his own thoughts as he translates and sometimes going off on little tangents. By the time you land you’ve entirely forgotten about your ire with the case. You’re focused only on the characters he introduces you to, who are clearly in love even if they’re too stupid to see it, and the way his nose crinkles a little when he reaches a word with no direct English translation.

Whhat you don’t realise, is that you end up folding into him: head pressed against his chest. Somehow, neither of you notice how you naturally gravitate towards each other. Some pair of profilers.

--

Hotch sends you in different cars to the precinct, and you’re soon reminded of your frustration as you’re caught up in the hub-a-bub of the case. It’s not until you’re leaving the station, after a long and relatively fruitless briefing with the medical examiners and local PD, that you even have time to acknowledge Spencer properly again.

And even then, it’s only when Hotch says.

"You'll be sharing a room with Reid, alright?"

He’s only really asking as a formality. Nobody questions Hotch’s assignments for them. So why, then, do you feel yourself flush a little.

Why then, do you feel so embarassed replying, “Alright.”

***

There was nothing much to be nervous about with sharing a room, as it so happened. The past day and a half had been a whirlwind since the unsub had snatched a fifth victim. You’d been sleeping in shifts, making sure that some of you were awake at all times to keep working.

You were working on the geographical profile with Spencer, and had taken to driving around to look for landmarks at night, when there was nothing much else to do. There were maps but sometimes it helped just to get things embedded in your brain. And now, at 4am, you’re bursting into the conference room occupied by Spencer and Rossi, because you might just have got something.

"I have an idea,” you say, and before anybody can even respond you’re scribbling hurriedly on the whiteboard.

“Slow down kiddo,” Rossi laughs.

“Sorry I’m just,” you cut yourself off, slightly flustered and tapping your foot with frustration as you try to put the last pieces of it together, “Diana Matthews.”

“Yeah?” Spencer responds.

“She was the one who lived on Lakefield right?” Rossi asks.

Annoyingly, you can’t remember off rote. Spencer sees the pinch of frustration in your brow. He senses that you’re heading for the case file.

So, he answers, “Yeah 38 Lakefield Drive.”

Smiling gratefully at him, you breathe a sigh of relief, “There’s three different stores in the area for this local electronic repair company, Gladston Digital, in this area. Two of them aren’t accounted for on the maps because these are from last year, and one of the ones on Google is pinned to the wrong street, there are two Minister Avenues and one’s on the complete opposite side of town.”

Denoting the map with annotations as you go, you continue, “All of the victims had residences within a mile of one of the three stores. And we interviewed the area manager, Paul something, he manages all three stores. He came to speak to me and Hotch while we were scoping the area.”

“Inserting himself into the investigation,” Rossi notes, “Fits the profile. A stalker like that would want to remain an illusion of control.”

“I just need to get Garcia on the phone to see if it checks out.”

Spencer just watches, slightly in awe, as you make the phone call to Garcia. She manages to cross-reference bank statements and emails, showing that all five of the victims had taken something of theirs in for repair sometime in the year before their disappearance. And he feels something in his gut. Pride? Maybe. That’s certainly a part of it.

But there’s something else in there too. Your eyes meet his, with a flicker of recognition. He realises what it is then: marvel. Your brain works so fast, and that’s not novel to him, he knows you’re intelligent but there’s just something about how fast you manage to put it all together. You conjure something out of nothing, a link that he’d missed. And he’s reminded, again, that he has to try and keep up with you sometimes. He wonders if you know that.

Probably not, he thinks. You’re rambling down the phone and gesturing with your hands, in a way you may or may not have picked up from him, and all he can think is how you look so in your element. And beautiful.

He’s a little embarassed about how normal it feels for that last observation to pop into his head.

***

“To _____!” Prentiss cheers.

8pm has rolled around. Since your revelation 16 hours earlier, you managed to confirm your thinking, apprehend Paul Bader, and save the fifth victim. All in all, a pretty good days work. It’s not just down to you, but everyone’s singing your praises so loudly it’s making you a little embarassed.

Even Hotch sets a drink down in front of you, squeezing your shoulder, “Really good work today ____.”

Fair to say you’ve probably peaked there.

Spencer is sat to your left, sipping at a Mai Tai that you know is going to have him giggly in about an hours time.

“I wasn’t trying to keep you out before,” you tell him, “I was going to come and wake you up when I got back but you were in the conference room.”

He smiles, “I know. It was my shift to sleep.”

“Bet you’re paying for that now.”

“A little,” he chuckles, “It’s worth it.”

"I just didn’t want you to think I was hanging you out to dry. You know, to make myself look good,” you decide to press further: mostly just because the team has sung your praises and that kind of attention makes you shirk at the best of times. Let alone when you’re sat with the guy responsible for creating half the damn profile.

His eyebrows furrow. You worry for a minute about what he’s going to say, but then, “I would never think that about you. We’re a team.”

He squeezes your hand. Maybe that’s your favourite thing about Spencer, really. More than the fact he remembers to get your caffeine just how you like it, more than how gentle he is with just about everybody he encounters, more than his relentless enthusiasm for your questions about whatever pops into your mind. No, it’s his modesty. The way he doesn’t even think for a moment to be prideful or arrogant about his intelligence. He genuinely roots for you in every moment, you think.

“Are you okay?” he asks, “You seem a little..quiet.”

It wasn’t until he mentioned it that you realise you’d let your thoughts run away with you, “No. I’m good. Just thinking about how good of a teacher you are.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I think so. You’ve taught me. I didn’t know the first thing about geographical profiling when I got here two years ago. I could barely read a map,” you laugh, keeping your tone sincere, “You’re a really good teacher Spence. I feel like I learn so much from just being around you.”

“I often don’t give you much choice.”

You smile, “I wouldn’t want you to. Really. I’m always interested in everything you have to say. I think you know that. But I wanted to tell you anyway. So you’re sure.”

He’s incredibly grateful you get pulled into a conversation by Morgan, giving him a moment to process.

A lifetime of being insecure. Of feeling like nobody was interested in what he had to say but not being able to really control whether he said it anyway. All this time being insecure in himself, and you liked it. Complimented him on it, even. Considered him a teacher. He doesn’t think he could articulate, in any of the languages he speaks, the sense of peace that brings him.

-----

The Mai Tai’s do make him sleepy. Buzzed, but sleepy. After being bought rounds by Hotch, Morgan, and Spencer, you’re feeling exactly the same. It’s only 10:30pm by the time you decide to make your departure for the night. This is much to the chagrin of Emily, who lolls against Rossi’s side demanding that you stay.

“Some of us have been up since 4 this morning, breaking their backs to keep this country safe,” You tease, putting on a melodramatic air just for affect, “Besides, you’re going to regret this when you have to be up and back on the jet in the morning.”

“You will, especially since you still owe me that report,” Hotch teases, with a smile.

Emily rolls her eyes, “You two are no fun.”

She’s joking, goading you, but unfortunately for her you have a sleepy Spencer nuzzling against you which is a far more pressing matter to deal with.

“Come on Spence, let’s get you to bed,” You say, gently wiggling out from under him and offering him your hand.

He pouts at the momentary loss of contact. It’s subtle. You catch it though. He links his fingers through your own, holding your hand properly, and you try not to read into it too much. He’s tipsy. He’s tired.

Ignoring the deliberately obvious eyebrow-wiggling from Morgan, you make for the lift.

“You didn’t have to come to bed just for me,” Spencer says, “I feel bad for taking you away from the others. I’m not that drunk, I could get myself to bed.”

You shake your head, “I wanted to go to bed with you.”

His eyes snap to you, a grin playing on his lips.

“I mean, I wanted to go to bed. And we’re sharing a room. So I’m going to bed with you. As in we’re going to the place where bed is, together.”

He’s just enough tipsy to be confident enough to jest, “Sure.”

You roll your eyes, “You sound like Morgan.”

“What did Morgan say?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what Morgan always says whenever anybody goes off together.”

“That they’re having sex,” He giggles, tipsiness shining through again.

“Yes, Spence, that they’re having sex.”

“But we’re not.”

The elevator dings as you arrive at your floor, saving your brain from delving into the implications of what he’s just said. And whether that was a disappointed or netural tone.

He hasn’t let go of your hand. He walks to the door with you, still keeping your hand in his. It’s hard not to let yourself read into it now. How holding hands with him could be such a casual thing. Hard not to imagine walking through bookshops with him, one hand in yours and the other picking books off the shelf he thought you’d like. The domesticity of it sickens you.

Then he lets go to cross to the bed.

“Aren’t you gonna put your pyjama’s on?” You ask.

“I wasn’t gonna sleep yet,” he says, “I was gonna...”

He looks bashful, suddenly, self-consciously licking his lower lip, “I was gonna ask if maybe you wanted to watch something with me. You can pick. I always pick.”

“This an excuse to get me in bed with you again, Spence?” You tease, just past tipsy enough not to care that this is the first time you’ve even acknowledged that night.

"Yeah, the Pearl Harbour ruse doesn’t work twice,” he jokes.

You wish you could find the courage to tease him more. Unfortunately, the liquid courage seems to have run out, and the topic somehow feels too delicate to touch.. Instead, you change quickly into your pyjama’s. Together, you pick something to watch, settling down. You’re suddenly thankful for the single bed, the necessity to be cozied up against him as you watch. To feel his chest, every beat of his heart. You swear it’s beating fast. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

***

Just like last time, you wake up huddled against Spencer. Unlike last time, there’s no Emily banging the door down to drag you to the police station. No, it’s quiet.

You can’t see what time it is because there’s a Spencer between you and the clock. Your phone is in your back pocket but it’s hard to find any motivation whatsoever to move when you’re like this: face pressed into his chest, his head resting atop of yours so a single curl of his hair tickles your nose, his hand on your hip holding you against him.  

His eyelashes flutter, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah. I just woke up.”

He smiles, “Me too.”

“Looks like we did it again.”

“Looks like we did,” his voice is quiet.

“Do you want me to move? If I’m...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

His free hand comes up to your chin, tipping it so you’re looking him directly in the eyes. His pupils are dilated. In the dim light it’s hard to place the look on his face exactly. But it’s soft.

"C-Can I kiss you?” the question spills quickly from his lips, like he’s afraid he’ll change his mind if he doesn’t get it out fast, “I just. I don’t know if that’s what you want too, I’ve just really-”

"Kiss me, Spence. Please kiss me.”

The smile on his face would have made you fall in love with him, if you weren’t already. And then he kisses you. Barely. Your lips are just grazing against one anothers. You tilt yourself upwards, towards him, giving him a better angle. Then he really kisses you, capturing your lips in his. It’s sweet, it’s soft, it’s...it’s everything. It’s everything, how his hands tangle themselves tentatively in your hair, how he kisses you so deeply, drinking you in.

His hand cups your cheek, then he’s pulling back, just a tiny bit, to mumble against your lips, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

The only appropriate way you can think to verbalise your agreement, is closing the gap between your lips again. There’s an urgency to it this time. Your lips move quickly, passionately. He swipes his tongue across your lower lip and you let him in, your tongues delicately dancing together. He’s good. He’s good and you don’t even notice the morning breath or faint taste of rum, it’s just Spencer.

When you finally come apart, you’re out of breath.

“I didn’t think you’d ever do that,” you say, “I was worried I was reading this whole thing wrong.”

He frowns then, that little nose crinkle appearing again, “I thought I was too obvious.”

“So did I. Maybe it’s best if we don’t tell Hotch how bad we are at profiling each other. He might rethink his decision to take us on.”

He laughs, “Not being able to profile when somebody’s in love with you might be a cause for concern. There are several obvious phyical signs of love, including dilation of pupils when looking at the object of your affection, heart rate synchronisation.”

“How am I supposed to know if our heart rates have synchronised?”

He smiles. Pressing a finger to your lips, he dips his head in the small chasm between your two chests. In the silence, in the early morning quiet, in the absence of all distraction you can hear it. The steady thrum of your hearts, pounding away at identical paces. The sound that told you that some part of you had always known.

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

Tagslist: @takeyourleap-of-faith​​ @sassiest-politician​​ (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from this list)

[one-piece-aus]

Rainbow

X Drake x Reader | 100 Music Milestone Event

X Drake + 🔀 + Fluff + 🥚 | Requested by: @musical-apple

Ashes littered the ground, building remains scattered across the ruined city. A year has passed, and X Drake has come across a hand full of survivors left. Life began fading of it's meaning, everything he saw only grew grimmer with each passing day. Though, when all hope was on it's final edge, he found you.

You were rummaging through the rubble, a smile on your face and humming a little tune. The sight was so out of place, Drake thought this had been a hallucination or a trick someone set up. Cautious, he placed his hand on the handle of the sword that rested at his side before approaching you.

"Excuse me, miss?" Drake spoke so he wouldn't startle you.

"Hm?" You looked up to meet his blue eyes. "Oh! Another survivor!"  You immediately stood up and stumbled over the junk to him. "Hi there, I'm [Y/n]! I- woah!" You tripped over something braced yourself for impact but instead, you felt strong arms around your torso. You glance up and saw Drake had caught you in his arms. You bashfully smile and stand up straight and back away. "Sorry 'bout that, it's been a while since I've seen someone new."

"It's... It's alright miss."

"Oh no need to be formal, you already know my name."

"Right..." Drake deadpanned. He didn't understand how you can be so cheerful with the current post-apocalyptic situation around you. Then again, maybe you were just happy to see another person, it was a natural thing to do after being alone for so long. "How long has it been since you last saw someone?"

"Not long ago actually."

There goes his theory.

Clearing his throat, Drake held out his hand. "My name is X Drake."

"Nice to meet you, X Drake." You smile and shake his hand. "Tell me, do you have a place to stay, or are looking for one?"

"I've been roaming around to see how many survivors there are."

"Oh! That's perfect! Come, come!" You pulled his arm and begin walking towards a wagon you had stock up with supplies. Grabbing it and trailing it behind you, lead him to the outskirts of the ruined city you two have just been in. You could see the place had more space and tidy up, a few plants growing here and there-

"Is that [Y/n]?" A child's voice whispered.

"[Y/n]'s back!" Another kid cheered, coming out of a large makeshift tent.

"Yay! [Y/n]!"

"Welcome back [Y/n]!"

A bunch of children came out, greeting you with smiles and hugs. You laughed, acknowledging each one that came to you. A few of the older ones reported what went on while you were gone and you praised them for their good work. X Drake stood there in shock, he didn't know so many children had survived.

"[Y/n], who is that funny-looking man over there?" a little girl asked, tugging on your arm and pointing at the male you brought with you.

"This is X Drake," you introduce the children to him, patting his shoulder.

"Is he going to be staying with us?" a boy with raven hair asked, sparkles in his eyes. A few other children joined in, looking up at both of you with wide smiles.

Drake hesitated on answering them, he wasn't exactly planning on settling down yet. He planned on continuing his search for more survivors, or rather a purpose in this wasteland. You noticed the uncertainty in his composer, to be fair, you had just dragged him over to your camp without telling him anything so it was understandable.

"Nothing is set in stone but why don't we show him around and make him feel welcome," you suggested to the children.

"Yeah!"

"Okay [Y/n]-chan!"

"Good idea!"

Two children grabbed a hold of his hands, pulling him along as they showed him the campsite with the rest of the kids. From where they gathered rainwater to where they held medical supplies, Drake had been impressed the place was so well organized. One question bugged his mind, where were the other adults? Surely you weren't the only one, right?

Sundown approached, a few young teens came with animals they caught, surprised by Drake's presence but welcomed him nonetheless. Preparing dinner was a team effort and they did it with a smile on their face, sharing merry laughter. Their cooperation was more efficient than the majority of the survivor groups Drake had come across, which consisted of adults.

That's one of the reasons why Drake kept moving, most of the colonies people formed collapsed on themselves from disagreement and distrust. The ones that were somewhat stable weren't exactly welcoming to newcomers, he didn't blame them after all not every stray was trustworthy in this day and age. However, these children appeared to be the exact opposite of what he experienced in the other groups. He wanted to know where the other adults were, and he would've asked you but you seemed to have your hands full assisting one of the children with something.

"Hey, mister-"

"Onion, his name is Deric." A boy with green hair interrupted his friend who wore glasses.

"No, it's not," a boy with purple hair butted in. "[Y/n] said his name was Drake."

"Oh..."

Drake cleared his throat to regain their attention to see what they needed.

"Can you help hold the stew pot?" The boy who Drake assumed to be named Onion requested. "The others are starting to get tired."

"Of course." Drake obliged, and watched as the kids served everyone as he held the object for them. Just as the last of the kids were receiving their servings, you came over.

"Oh, thank you for helping the kids." You smiled to show your gratitude, and Drake couldn't help but rub the back of his neck bashfully due to your cute expression.

"It's no problem really." The question Drake had popped up in his mind and he thought this was the best time to ask. "[Y/n], are there any adults around here other than you?"

"Uh- well... no, not really," you tell him, your demeanour dropping down slightly. "These kids-"

"[Y/n]! [Y/n]!" the children called, catching your attention. "Come sing for us!" "Yeah!"

"Alright." You glance at Drake and put a hand on his arm. "I'll tell you later."

Getting a nod from the man, you then walk over to the children who were gathered in a circle. Some had finished their bowls of stew and started getting comfy as they waited for you, each one was filled with anticipation. Wearing a smile, you knelt down and boop a little girl's nose, beginning to sing.

"I know you, you're a special one"

You shift yourself back to the rest of the child, opening yours for them to come and hug you.

"Some see crazy where I see love"

Two small kids come to you and you scoop them up, spinning them around in the air.

"You fall so low but shoot so high"

You let one sit on your shoulders while the other stays in your arms, and you nod your head to the orange sky.

"Big dreamers shoot for open sky"

Turn the child in your arms so you can see their eyes and boop their nose.

"So much life in those open eyes"

Gently you put the two children down.

"So much depth, you look for the light"

You crouch down, opening your palm to show scratches and scars on them.

"But when your wounds open, you will cry"

A small girl slowly approach your hand and touches them, curiously looking in your eyes as you tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You'll cry out now and you'll question why"

You pick up the small girl and rocket her to sleep as you continue singing the melody.

"I can see a rainbow

In your tears as they fall on down

I can see your soul grow

Through the pain as they hit the ground

I can see a rainbow

In your tears as the sun comes out~

As the sun comes out~"

Drake watches in amazement, witnessing how your gentle nature soothes the children. Blissful smiles grew on the kids face, some swayed to your tune, others yawned and rested their head on the one beside them. Though, what captivated him had been the sound of your soft voice and the way words would flow from out of your lips. As you sung, he had almost forgotten the post-apocolyptic lifestyle he was in.

When the last note left your lips, the eldest children of the group who didn't fall asleep began to carry the sleeping kids to the tent. You smiled, proud to see them taking care of the others. Your thoughts were interrupted by Drake humming in thought, who was also watching the teens take the younger kids to the large tent.

"Ah, right, I suppose we didn't finish our conversation..."

"It's alright, your main concern for the children so I can understand," Drake stated before turning his gaze to you.

"The children... don't have anywhere to go," you inform him. "Most lost their parents or family, and you've seen the other survival groups. They don't have children... they don't want them... People think a child will slow them down in this life, but they're not looking in the long run. These kids are our future generation, our hope for humanity to continue. I... I just have to take care of them, give them a reason to keep going. I have to stay positive for them... I have to be their rainbow." You face lost that glimmer of joy, displaying one that held struggle and worry.

So that's why you had been smiling, you were putting on a brave face for the children. It makes sense, but Drake is amazed how one could stay like that for so long, it must get tiring. Hesitantly, he spoke up.

"I can't imagine how hard it can be..." Drake told you and a few seconds of silence followed before he continued. "You're stronger than most of my old co-workers."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was a cop before this whole mess..."

"Ah... that's cool..."

"What were you back then?"

"I didn't really have anything... I was broke, in debt, about to lose my house... in a way... this new life is better."

Drake never believed someone out there would say those words, however, hearing her reasons it did make sense. He didn't think of looking at the positive this life had brought. Prehaps if he stayed his mindset could change.

"Do you think there's enough room for another person to settle here?" Drake asked rubbing the back of his neck.

"Of course, there's always room for you to stay." You smile, answering him.

An MLP song + an apocalyptic wasteland + wholesome & adorable children, if that's not a cracked combination than I don't know what is.

Anyway, thank you for reading, your request, and your follow ^-^

[lorei-writes]

Constricted

Asra x MC Smut

Words Estimate: 1.2k

*hides self below the bed*

A word of explanation – I named the MC “Anna”, simply because I needed a place-holder name and I like the diminutive a lot.

Contents: vaginal sex, hand job, “unconventional” use of magic

The air was frozen crisp that day, all sound seemingly threatening to shatter it, even the muffled gasps coming from below the duvet being enough for vein-like cracks to settle in its structure. “Asra…” Anna let out, her lungs in dire need of air, her lips protesting due to the absence of his caresses. Her skin further tingled, some glimmer set below it by his laughter, their foreheads touching as they lay on their sides – and his eyes fluttered open, almost shyly so, her half of his heart panging vigorously against her rib cage. Feeling her face grow increasingly hot, Anna reached from below the covers, her fingers tangling into his unruly locks, her expression a plea to be kissed again.

The air was frozen crisp that day, all sound seemingly threatening to shatter it, even the muffled gasps coming from below the duvet being enough for vein-like cracks to settle in its structure. “Asra…” Anna let out, her lungs in dire need of air, her lips protesting due to the absence of his caresses. Her skin further tingled, some glimmer set below it by his laughter, their foreheads touching as they lay on their sides – and his eyes fluttered open, almost shyly so, her half of his heart panging vigorously against her rib cage. Feeling her face grow increasingly hot, Anna reached from below the covers, her fingers tangling into his unruly locks, her expression a plea to be kissed again.

Her lips parted for him, welcoming her lover with insatiable need, her free hand having already invited a sea-worth of creases into his shirt. A hum, a gasp, low groan as she nibbled onto his lower lip – his hand on the small of her back, Asra pulled her closer, her leg hooking above his hip. Somewhat surprised, Anna whimpered, the kisses administered to her neck, albeit still sweet, having a ferocious edge to them, his affection only growing in intensity – until he reigned it in, her pulse providing him with a soothing rhythm. His nose nuzzling against her shoulder, her fingers found purchase in his hair, his touch travelling up her spine prompting her back to arch.

The air was frozen crisp that day, although she could have sworn the smile on his face was enough to melt it, Asra looking up at her from his spot. “Anushka…” he whispered, her name nearly a prayer, his throat dry from need. “Yes?” “I–” his voice spilled into a groan, her thigh grinding against his erection. “I think I understand, my heart,” Anna hummed in reply, a curious hand hiking her skirt up. It stopped, however, his gaze gliding back to her face, her eyes fluttering shut as she tilted her head down. Asra didn’t need any words to explain her desire, understanding of her encouragement to continue his ministrations, eager to please. Their lips met anew, sudden emotion – love, lust, boundless acceptance and joy – washing over her as she felt his magic envelop her whole, the sensation taking its origins at the tips of his fingers, then brushing against her bottom. “That’s new,” she laughed, her lover revisiting the path leading down her neck once more. “We are rather constricted, so I thought…” Asra trailed off, the tip of his nose touching the very top button of her blouse, the garment undoing itself as he watched, newly exposed nipples hardening under cool air. “So you thought?” He bit lightly on one, a muffled mewl answering him, his lips curling up into a smile. “So I thought this may be preferable to abandoning the duvet…” he explained, the words but a short break before another caress.

Her back arched, her body begging for more of his attention, soft hair tickling her chin as he tended to her breasts, nibbles mixed in with kisses streaming abundantly over her chest. The ache between her legs growing, Anna squirmed, the duvet falling to her waist as he continued down her stomach… “I’m cold,” she complained. A flicker in his eyes, his arms soon enveloped her, pleasant warmth of the covers having returned as well. “Is that better?” “Hmm,” she hummed, dexterous fingers making quick work of his shirt, her hands sneaking below it. “Maybe now,” she finished, her nails gliding over the skin past his navel, his hips leaning towards her, seemingly following her touch and asking her to continue.

Asra gasped, his lover stroking him through the fabric of his pants, only to undo them fast, urgent to return some of the pleasure he had brought her. Her hand on his shoulder asking him to lay on his back, the wizard obliged, Anna re-adjusting her grip over him, her thigh thrown over his as she snuggled into his side. “Have I told you I love you?” she whispered, her lips brushing against his neck lightly, each touch sending a spark of her magic through him. “I think the last time was this evening,” Asra laughed, his voice turning into a gasp, her teeth touching onto his Adam’s apple, her caresses growing in intensity. “What was that for?” “You just… Look ravishing,” Anna let out, much to his surprise, a carmine blush painting over his cheeks. Somewhat stunned, feelings storming inside of his chest, he turned onto his side and cupped her face, the gentlest tug begging her to look up – and he already had her lips sealed in a kiss, slow and caring, thoughtful and perhaps even sweet, albeit methodically consuming the entirety of her breath. Her hands free, she let them roam over his chest, travel past the plains of his back, her nails daring to scrape lightly against his skin… Yet it was not enough, her leg hooking above his hip anew as to pull herself close to him, his hips grinding against hers, separated only by the fabric of her skirt.

They broke apart, their foreheads touching as they lay, his hand sliding past her shoulder and down to her thigh. His spell tingled at her skin, the sensation growing almost hot, only to ease once the skirt disappeared, the garment fluttering somewhere behind her before landing on the floor. Anna ground against him nearly instantly. “Anushka… Can I?” “Should I turn around?” “I’d like to see your face,” Asra hummed softly, his eyes dark from need. “It is too cold to ride you, though, and the duvet will slide off if I lay on my back.” Her brows furrowed. “We could do it the way we are now?” “I think I want something else tonight…” she sighed, his lips pressing against her forehead as to ease her frown. “I hate the cold so much.” “I may have a solution,” he laughed sheepishly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “If that ‘something else’ would involve more sensation, that is.” “Oh? I didn’t know you had such a wide array of bedroom spells,” Anna teased, the head of his cock sliding against her entrance as she moved her hips. “Undress first, though, I bet the laundry would freeze over.” “We should do it as your training some other time,” he giggled, but did follow the advice all the same.

Anna froze in anticipation, his hand having returned to her bottom, his hips drawing close. Slowly, he pushed into her, his lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze focused until she enveloped him whole… Her fingers curled into his back, something inside of her getting suddenly ignited, each sensation amplified. Before he even got a chance to ask, Anna nodded, the light sway of his hips eliciting a moan out of her, her eyes growing misty. “I love you,” Asra whispered, rocking her unhurriedly, air shattered by the praises she sung.

[sauceracha]

[ I don’t wanna be your friend ]

han jisung x reader || making out fic || 2.1k

WARNING: Mentions of smoking marijuana | Heavy making out

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“Hey dumbass are you b~ oh! Sung! Didn’t know you were here” You smile, surprised to see the boy sitting on your younger brother’s bed. Jisung lifts his gaze to yours before setting his soda down. Pulling his headphones from his head, he smiles widely at you. 

“Oh! Hey, y/n! Long time no see, mhm?” A gummy smile on his face, making his cheeks get rounder. Han Jisung has been your brother’s best friend since first grade. By the time they reached middle school, Sung was already a part of your family. Now, in their freshman year of college, he  spends so much time at your house that you actually thought he moved in and your brother forgot to tell you. 

You chuckle as you lean against the frame door. “Oh, yeah...so long.  How long has it been?” You pretend to think, touching your chin. “Like a whole three hours? Maybe five if that? How many hours did your classes last?” 

His hand moves to his chest, mockingly gasping. “Excuse you,  if you have to know~" He smiles charmingly “We didn’t have classes today so...” He leans over the side of the bed,  head hanging as he looks at you upside down. Making you wonder how his beanie hasn’t fallen off yet. “I actually never left.” Jisung smiles like a child, making you chuckle at his weirdness. Once satisfied with your reaction, he focuses  back on his phone. “Oh! Also, your brother’s out with his girlfriend, said he wouldn’t be back tonight”

You shake your head as your arms cross over your chest. ”That’s the third time this week, they seemed to be getting serious this time.” Jisung agrees as you push away from the door frame. You look at him for a moment, considering. “And what are you gonna do, Sung? Just stay in his room till he comes back tomorrow?”

“Well… you know I hate being at my house, I prefer being bored here than being bored there.” Ji looks at you and smiles again. “Also,  you are here, so… any ideas of something to keep me entertained?” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.  You roll your eyes fondly at the lame attempt of flirting. He always does that, playfully flirting, or bickering with you, and most of the time you play along too. You’ve literally known this kid your whole life, you got to the point that you actually consider him a friend of yours. You adore Jisung, even when he behaves like a horny teen. 

“Well, I was gonna ask the little shit if he wanted to try some weed I bought today, but seeing as he’s not here...do you wanna come with?” Jisung smiles widely at that. He gets up, knocking the last of his soda back. He tosses his headphones on the bed before making his way towards you. 

“See? This is why I love you.” You shake your head laughing.

*****

A few minutes later, you both are in the backyard. Laying side by side on the grass, passing the last bits of a joint. Jisung’s phone playing some random indie playlist as you stare at the night sky. Actually feeling happy that your parents decided to take a month off to travel the country. You wouldn't have been able to have this night if they hadn’t. You sigh, as you close your eyes, enjoying the fuzzy feeling that's fogging up your mind now . Everything feels softer and bigger when you are like this. Everything feels a little bit surreal. The grass prickling the naked skin of your arms, the buzzing noise of the little bugs flying around in the summer night, the sound of the cars driving on the street, Jisung’s little giggles that randomly slip past his lips. 

You turn your head to the side, watching as Sung takes one last drag. Twirling dense smoke circles coming from his mouth as he tosses the finished joint aside, laying on his back completely. His eyes closed and a relaxed expression on his features. You lazily blink, your gaze slowly mapping out his face. From his big half-lidded eyes, to his perky nose, his full cheeks and his pretty pouty lips. The way the soft orange light from the house shines over his skin makes him look even more ethereal in a teenage-coming-of-era-movie way. You chuckle to yourself at the thought, a warm feeling filling you up.  

Sung turns to you as he hears you, his red-rimmed eyes looking into yours. You both stare at each other, having a silent conversation none of you are actually sure about. His half lidded eyes searching through yours, slipping to your lips for a moment before meeting yours back again. You see him run his tongue over his lips, your gaze following the movement. For a moment, you wonder how it would be the one tasting them. 

“Y/n...” Sung’s voice pulls you out from your trance-like stance. His eyes look slightly more awake as he licks his lips nervously again. He truly is adorable. You smile lazily at him, before looking back to the night sky. You swear you hear him sigh as you turn, but something else catches your attention first. 

Oh Hannah, I wanna feel you close

“Oh I love this song” You sit up excitedly, smiling at Jisung before leaning back down and starting to hum to the rhythm of the music. You close your eyes and start singing. Sung silently stares at you, feeling hooked on every gesture and sound you make. Not sure how, but you sense his gaze on you. Turning to him again, you sing playfully.  “Oh hannie, come lie with my bones” Jisung’s eyes widen as he hears you change up the song. Face red as he turns back to look to the sky. You chuckle at his reaction.

Sitting up, you lean over him.“Oh hannie, don’t look away” Half of your body draped over his. You pull on the beanie he’s wearing, covering his eyes. He fumbles a bit to put it back into place. Your smile widens at the nervous reaction. 

“Oh hannie, just look at me the same” Maybe it’s the way he reacted. Maybe it’s just the fog clouding your good judgment. But your hands move to his cheeks as you lean closer. The playful smile on your lips falling as the tension around you both grows. Your eyes fix on his lips as your hands bring him closer.

I don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips. Half closed eyes, a small smile still on your face, you close in on him. So close you could smell the orange soda he was having earlier. So close your lips graze each other when you sing softly. Softly enough to look as if you were mouthing the lyrics into his mouth.

I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath. Jisung is the one who breaks first. He leans up, pressing his mouth to yours. Your smile only widens as you start kissing him back. Lips moving against each other languidly. Your movements slowed down by the effects of the joint. Your lips slightly unaligned as they press against each other. Your thumbs softly caressing the soft skin of his cheeks before tilting his head enough to deepen the kiss.

A soft groan leaves Jisung’s mouth as you bite on his lip. Taking the opportunity, you slip your tongue between his lips. Mapping out his mouth as your hand moves to the back of his head, pulling him into you. Your tongue meets his, gliding together unhurriedly, as if you had all the time in the world. Sung’s moans when you suck on it, makes you giggle softly against his mouth. His hand moves to grip your waist, fingers gripping your waist bruisingly hard. He pulls you closer as he gets more desperate. Chuckling, you pull away, just enough for him to whine and pull you back into another kiss. 

You smile against his lips, before maneuvering yourself over him. Setting your knees on either side of his hips, hands moving to rest on the ground beside his head. His grip on your waist tightens as you kiss him harder, his soft lips wetly sliding against yours. Unconsciously, you roll your hips down into him. A deep moan slips past his lips as he automatically thrusts up into you, searching for some relief. Laugh surges from your lips, making you pull away to breath. You try and sit back, but before you can even settle, Jisung sits up too. His lips pressing urgently into yours once again. You giggle internally as you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck, hands moving to his head. You slip your fingers under his beanie. Playing with the hairs on his nape, before pulling the beanie off,  letting your hands run free through his hair. His thin lips battling against yours, his hands roaming all over your back. 

Jisung groans before moving down your neck, lips sucking on your skin eagerly. You laugh as you lean your head to the side, letting your neck at his mercy. Your hand runs through his hair, eyes half closed as he keeps kissing your neck. “Sungie…” He hums as he leaves marks all over your skin. You smile at that. “We should stop...” He grunts ‘no’, keeping his assault on your neck. One of his hands moves to the neck of your shirt, exposing more of your skin. You moan softly enjoying the feeling of his warm lips on your skin. His eagerness actually makes you feel praised.  

After a few moments of enjoying his kisses, you sight lightly. Running a hand through his hair. “Jisung…” You move your hands to his shoulders, pushing him off a little as he whines. He looks up at you through heavy lidded eyes, a pout on his lips. Looking like a pup who just got reprimanded. You smile, biting your lip as you push his hair back. So caught up on his factions that you let your mouth run without thinking. “You are breathtaking, you know that right?” Jisung whines once again as his face warms up, hiding his face on your neck again.

“Y/n…” He groans against your skin, hugging you closer. “Don’t say stuff like that,” he mumbles softly. You chuckle as you rub his back. Trying to get more comfortable on his lap, slightly rubbing against his hard on. Gasping surprisedly, Sung bites your neck again before whispering softly. “Please.” 

You nibble on your lip before grabbing his hair firmly and pulling him away from your neck once again. Before Jisung can even complain, you lean down, kissing him hard once again. Jisung moans into the kiss, his hands slipping under your shirt, running all over the skin of your back. He presses his lips against yours, his movements harsher as the hazy fog that surrounded his mind starts to dissipate. You let him kiss you at his own pace for a while, just enjoying the intensity of Jisung’s eagerness. He kisses you deep and desperately, as if he stopped kissing you, you would disappear from his arms. It makes you dizzy. The way he kisses and touches you makes you feel like you could actually disappear if he dared to stop. You wish he won't stop, too.  

That’s exactly when the sprinklers turn on. 

“Oh shit!” You pull away surprisedly laughing as you hear him complain. “For real?!” Jisung groans as you stand up still chuckling, lending him a hand. He grabs it and you both rush to the back door. Still laughing as you enter the house, you turn to Jisung. His drenched shirt sticking to his body as he tries to dry his face, grumbling about the interrupted kiss. Shaking your head at his endearing behaviour, you make your way towards him. 

“So, Sungie~” He looks at you unsure of what’s next, you smile sweetly at him before grabbing his chin softly pulling him towards you. His excited gaze meeting yours. “~want to have a pajama party in my bedroom?” A beautiful smile formed on Jisung’s face. Though it lasted just for a moment, before it turned mischievous. His whole demeanour going back to the flirty boy he always is. 

“Well, I would love to… though I should let you know,  I don’t have pajamas.” Even when his comment is playful, his expression is anything but. His eyes, still fixed on yours, are dark with excitement. His usually warm brown irises are almost completely black besides the redness that still lingers. You are still deciding if it’s from arousal or because of the weed you smoked. Either way, it’s fascinating. 

“That’s fine~" you pull away from him. Making your way towards the stairs while taking your shirt off,  you wink at him. “You won’t actually need one” 

The smile on his face is all the answer you need. 

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Tags: @runningonkpop (thank you for having my back always)

[laketaj24]

Wondering Eyes: Geralt

Author’s Note: It’s late,l But Happy Valentine’s Day. This wasn’t planned but I had started it a while back. There may be some typos, it’s late and I tried edit lol. I hope you enjoy!(I didn’t tag this time, but will for the others, it’s late and the taglist is huge)

Pairing: Geralt X Reader x Yennefer

Warnings: SMUT. Explicit.

You hated it when you were forced to attend things. Balls included. You slid out of the shoes and placed them at the door. You hear Geralt stirring outside, likely tying up Roach in the nearby stable. You had half a mind to throw his things out there with her. The ball’s disaster clouded through your head, and of course, he didn’t think of it as a disaster. He thought of it as a success, the gleeful songs of Geralt the Witcher had filled his head with thoughts. Every fucking maiden that passed, he fancied or gave a smile. Those smiles were not Geralt’s to give, they belong to you.

“Jaskier is to join us in the morning.” He said upon entry into your home. The house was big but Geralt’s presence made every place you entered feel small. You take a seat at the table and toss out the coins you pit pocketed the night. While he was busy flaunting and galivanting you had made money for yourself. “Where did you get that?”

He knew the answer. You’d taken over ten pouches making them lighter by snagging a few orens and returning them. Geralt did not approve. He made his money the honest way, but it had never been your way. You were a thief at heart. It was easy to take from those who had so plenty, they never realized it was gone. “I saw you with Yennefer.” You changed the subject. “It seems her affection for you is still there.”

“We are friends.”

“Right.” You continued to count sliding the coins over the ridges of the table. “And I am to believe you haven’t fucked a few of your friends?” You scoffed and shook your head. “I would rather you not spend your time flirting with her and the others.”

“Flirting?” he rolled his eyes and slid out of the leather jacket, his bulky arms were hidden in the tunic he wore beneath it, but you knew what was there. “I conversed with them Y/N, you know the ting normal people do instead of steal from every Lord in the kingdom. Geralt moved over to you and shook his head.

You had collected a good sum of orens, it would tide you over when he left, and you knew it was destined to come. Geralt was always leaving. “Mind your own.” You tucked the satchel inside of a wooden jar and slid it on the bookshelf ahead.  “And yes, flirting Geralt, besides ward off monsters it’s the only thing you can do. That and fucking.” You smiled.

“Your jealousy is uncanny, unbecoming and more importantly highly unwarranted. If I wanted Yen, I would have her.” Geralt poured the ale into the wooden cup and chugged it down within seconds. His eyes met yours, they were narrowed and pinpointed on you. “You are in a foul mood.” He placed the cup on the table and angled his body at yours.

You glanced him over as you did often and admired his thighs, his flexed arms and the stern face he held as you shook your head. “Perhaps if you did not possess a wondering eye, my mood would improve?”

Geralt growls and stands from the table. The frustration curtained his face and was inherent in the two quick strides on his way over to you. His hand turns your chin up to him and he shakes his head. “My eyes only wander when they are in search of you.”

“Nice bullshit you have there.” You attempted to step back, but instead, you were greeted by the flat surface of the wall and slow annoyed blink from Geralt.

“I may be an idiot, but I am not stupid.” He half smiled. “I like what I have here.” He admitted and caged you between his arms. His warmth made you swoon. Fuck, anything he did to you made him swoon. He noticed bringing himself closer to you before he cleared his throat. “Are you done acting like a brat?”

“I am no brat.” You pouted. It didn’t help your case. He pulled his finger down your soft pink lips, he left tingles as his fingers slid from your chin to your cleavage, stomach and then your belt.

“Nice bullshit you have there,” Geralt through your words back at you and tugged at strings that secured your dress. “I hate to have to fuck the brat out of you, but for some reason, fucking is the only language you understand clearly.”

The strings were undone in seconds, your dress fell to your feet and Geralt dropped to his knees. He had a habit of worshipping your body, you were a goddess to him. He sung your praises with his fingers showed his gratitude with his tongue and showed his faith with his cock. You were his fucking religion. He started with small pecks to your stomach, he kissed each dimple on your stomach, your belly button and then the mound that leads to the sacred planes, his heaven.

He tugged at your curly hair jolting a small cry from you. His heavy hands cup your ass, it’s ample there and for some reason, it was no problem for him to fit it all in his hands. “there are so many things I want to do to you.” He kissed your inner thigh, burying his face in your ridge. His nose nestled before his tongue found the bundle of nerves and flicked. “But you haven’t been good enough to deserve it.” He slapped his hands onto your cheeks a gripped. The pain shot through you followed by the surprise of feeling his teeth sink into your plush flesh.

“Geralt.” Your voice sounded more of a plea than you intended. You whined when he stood and cocked his brow to you. He folded his arms over his chest.

“Goodnight.” He shrugged and turned. The arrogant response from him only ignited your fury more. You charged towards him and he caught your arms pushing you against the wall. One hand cuffed your hands above your head while the other moved down to your pussy and sunk into the wet spot as if it was made for it. “You’ve been horrible today. You know that?” The huskiness of his voice made you wetter. He moved his fingers expertly inside of you, pushing in and out. You could hear your arousal as his speed increased and your legs buckled. “Stand.” He snatched his fingers from you and placed them on your neck, holding you in place.

“And if I don’t?” You rebutted.

That was the last straw, his face reddened, and his finger pushed back into you at a pace that was going to make you shatter. Was this all you wanted all night? Him to possess you, make you writhe? You grinned as the teetering orgasm began to build and the door flew from the hinges. The wind from the door extinguished the flickering candles and in she walked. Yennefer.

You swallowed. “Why is she here?” You felt exposed. Your dress was on the other side of the room and you couldn’t get there because Geralt conveniently had you pinned against the wall.

“I came to help him tame you.” She grinned. Her olive skin glowed in the night, and you didn’t want to admit she was beautiful. She seems to glide over to you, her slender fingers enter you, filling the space that Geralt had just left. Your eyes widen and she grins. “Fuck, Geralt, does she taste as good as she feels?” The question was followed by her sinking to her knees. Her lips were profoundly different from Geralt’s. She kissed your pussy and then her tongue moved passed the pillowed lips and flicked over your clit. “Oh,” She moaned, and you did as well.

Geralt held you in place and smiled in your face as she started to work. She moved as if she knew you. She sucked at your clit, getting the swollen bud right where it needed to be for you to cum and then her finger started to work. She was teasing you. Getting you there and denying. You bucked, you wanted away from her. Slow torture wasn’t your way.

Geralt’s lips were on yours and you melted into him, was trying to ease your mind? If so, it was working. Yennefer fucked you with her tongue and you whined into Geralt’s mouth. “I think she’s good a ready.” He said and Yen stood from the ground placed her lips on yours. You could taste yourself, it made you hotter. Geralt laughed as if he could read your thoughts and with one fluid motion you were over his shoulder and headed to the bed.  He bent you over the wooden railing, aiming your ass up for him at the perfect angle. What the fuck was going on? Was this a punishment?

Geralt tossed the tunic to the ground and Yen sat next to you on the bed. “Not so loud about Yen now?” He chuckled and before the smart-ass remark could roll from your lips, he pushed into you. You could feel him in your stomach, he was so fucking deep. “You can scream if you want.” He growled as he began to fuck you. “It won’t help you.” He pushed at the nape of your back and your toes curled, feeling the tip of his cock at your g-spot. You cling to the pole and look up only to see Yen at your face. Her eyes hooked on you before she grins.

“Are you going to scream?” She taunted. “He’s worth screaming over.” She watched as Geralt pulled out of you and then slammed back in and your lips touched hers.

He dug his fingers into your flesh, anchoring himself deeper. His heavy balls clap against your clit and you feel the onslaught pleasure. You were nearly there. Your feet were tingling, the sweat misted all over your body and your pussy felt as if one more stroke would draw you over the edge. Geralt stopped and turned you around. “Were you about to cum without my permission?” He laughed.

“No.”

“It felt like it, see… a brat.” He rolled his eyes and picked you up from the ground. He carried you to the bed and slapped his cock onto your clit a few times before he lowered you down on his cock. This angle was better, you felt everything. One nudge and you were done. So, he stilled. He bit his lip and shook his head, asking permission is so hard for you isn’t it?”

You attempted to buck your hips and he clamped you down on his chest. “Geralt!” You plead.

“Let her cum.” Yennefer added. “I want to see it.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Fuck.” He said feeling you grip his cock with your pussy. He moved his legs for a better angle and then fucked up into you. His strokes were melodic, fucking perfect and you did cum. You screamed as your body shook and collapsed completely on him. But he did not stop. Geralt’s pace was faster, he was obliterating you and you wanted it. Craved it. You felt his muscles tense and the feral groan escape from him as his cock grew harder and the warm cum spurted into you.

You huffed and he did as well, deep laboring breaths to catch a breath that didn’t want to be caught. You glanced around for Yen and noticed she was gone. Never again would you speak a bad word about her, at least for the time being.

Geralt stroked his fingers down the line of your face. “Are you still jealous?” He winced when his semi hard cock slid from you.

“Kinda.”  

Author’s Note: ***I had a moment okay, damn!***

[revengeoftheantichrist]

What Kind of Man

Warnings: Possessive behaviour, forced feeding 

AO3  <<<Previous

Chapter 11: Performance 

You avoided dinner that night, choosing instead to go straight to bed. Your sickness and the letters giving you a headache. Before you slept, you placed some of the flowers in a vase on your nightstand, hoping to ward off whatever was in this house.

As you began to drift off, the covers were yanked off you, exposing you to the cool air.

“You are in no state to be refusing dinner!” scolded Michael. He stood in his robe, Mrs Mead behind him with a tray of food.

“I’m not hungry,” you said, attempting to reach for the covers. He turned to Mrs Mead, who handed him the tray and left you both alone. The smell of the food made your stomach grumble, but you still turned away when Michael brought the spoon to your mouth.

“Turn around and don’t be petulant.”

You rolled your eyes and refused to turn to him. You heard him huff before he forcefully turned your face to him. You refused to open your mouth, glaring at him. He had enough, pinching your nose so you’d be forced open your mouth to breath. Tears began to fall as you had to open your mouth. Michael shoved the hot spoon in your mouth, not letting the soup cool and burning your tongue.

“Now swallow like a good girl,” he ordered.

You closed your eyes and swallowed the burning liquid. Wincing as it reached your stomach.

“Now Y/N, you better have finished this bowl before I get back from my study, or else ill pour it down your throat. Do you understand?” he threatened.

You nodded and that was enough for him. He left you alone with the meal. You reluctantly began to eat, fearing what more could happen.

You pulled the covers over you after finishing your meal, not wanting to talk to Michael at all. He returned a few moments later, passing off the tray to Mrs Mead. You turned away from him as he crawled in beside you. He sighed and pulled you back against his chest, trapping you in his tight hold. Nothing was said as you drifted off.

////

You were sat at breakfast, picking at your food.

“I have some news,” Michael interrupted your train of thought. You looked up at him inquisitively.

“we will be going to see a play tomorrow evening,” he stated.

“Why?”

“Xavier Plympton’s play is having its final performance in the city nearby he is a good friend of mine. Your brother knows him. Some of the girls you met at Robichaux are part of the cast. There will be an afterparty here at the castle”

“Will Mallory be there?”

Michael looked at you like you were stupid, “Of course she will, she’s my primary beneficiary and their best performer.”

You just smiled and nodded.

////

The library must have held more answers. You had a few hours to look for more clues. At first you went to check the cavity you found last night, to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. It was still there along with the letters. The library must have been built with more. Instinct told you to go to the opposite end; hopefully someone appreciated symmetry when building it.

You were right, a little bit of pushing and the second alcove gave way. A similar box inside.

The handwriting was different on these envelopes. The wax seal had no crest. They were addressed to the USA.

You took a deep breath and unsealed the letter.

‘Dear Father,

It worries me that you haven’t replied to my letters. Is mother okay? Trevor? Our trip around Europe is coming to a close, yet Duncan seems more distant with me that ever before. I thought we’d become closer but there stills seems to be a gap. I always thought that it was rumour that the Shepherd dynasty was unwelcoming to their brides, but I know it’s true now. He’d rather spend the night in the streets than with me. I hope this doesn’t continue after the wedding. Our final destination is a ball some Count is holding. Apparently, his new wife is being introduced to society. I wonder if he loves her. Duncan speaks highly of his friend.

I hope this letter arrives and that you send me an answer for once

Love, Coco’

Why were Coco’s letters in your home? Why had they been left unsent? The was a simple folded piece of paper in the box, the same address as the letters before on one of the sides. You unfolded it to read its contents.

‘Please send a priest. Send some help. I have been trapped here. These men are beasts. They just sat and watched as the other’ The ink was smudged.

‘I have sent this with that sweet maid, reward her well. Please save me.’’

You reread the paper twice, before folding it and putting it back in the box. Coco never reached the States. You know that she didn’t get on that ferry back. The scream you heard that night must have been hers.

Whatever had happened to Madison, had happened to Coco. And it would happen to you too. The fact that the letter was given to a maid, but was in this box, meant that none of the staff could be trusted, not even the twins.

You put the box away and clicked the façade shut. Thinking about a way to get out of this castle before it became your coffin.

Your head began to spin as you left the library. You moved towards the garden to get some fresh air, but the sunlight made you recoil. Your eyes felt sensitive to the sun, making your head feel worse. You held onto the wall, trying to make your way to your room. Your mouth felt so dry, and your forehead was damp with sweat. You fell to the ground with a loud ‘thud’, the sound of running and a pair of fine leather shoes coming towards you the last thing you saw before your eyes snapped shut.

////

You woke to the sound of muffled voices. Your tried to make out the whispering, but the harder you concentrated, the more your ears rang. You groaned in pain and frustrating, alerting the room that you were awake.

You vision was blurry, but you were surrounded by Michael, Mrs Mead and Dr Montgomery. Michael was speaking to you, but his voice was still muffled, as if you had your head underwater. You tried to speak, but no words came out of your mouth.

Mrs Mead handed Michael a cup. He held you up and put it to your lip, making you drink the warm, sweet liquid down. You greedily drank, feeling better with each gulp, the fuzziness beginning to clear.

“Good evening Lady Langdon how are you feeling now?” asked Dr Montgomery.

You thought about your answer, squinting to focus on him, “a little… hazy still. My head has been hurting a lot recently,” you explained.

“Ah yes, Mrs Mead and the Count also explained your vomiting and fluctuating appetite.”

You nodded in response.

“It’s just a little bug, you must have caught it in Paris and the symptoms are developing now, but they should pass soon.”

He had lied to you again, you knew it.

He moved to check your temperature and the focus of your eyes. Giving you the clear and leaving a prescription with Mrs Mead.

“Make sure you follow the guidelines and keep your eating regular, even if you don’t want to,” with that he and Mrs Mead left, leaving you alone with Michael.

You just wanted to sleep again, resting your head back on the pillow. You heard Michael shuffling around before he got in beside you.

“You always worry me little dove, I thought you might have cracked your skull open with how loudly you fell,” his voice was soft.

“Where are you? You feel so far from me recently. Sometimes I feel like your somewhere else, like you’ve put your walls back up,” he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I’m just sick,” you sleepily murmured, not wanting him to see what you really were thinking.

He pulled your head to his chest with a sigh, “It will pass, I promise you it will pass.”

His actions and the softness of his voice lulled you to sleep.

////

Today was an exciting day for you, you had never seen a play before. Michael had let you see the ballroom get decorated for the party you would be hosting in the evening. You were in awe of the speed at which the staff worked. The hustle and bustle of the day took your mind off the mystery of your Husband. It could wait another day.

The opera house itself was stunning, having been partially funded by the Langdon family when it was first built. It seemed like Michael’s ancestors knew nothing other than living in excess. A tradition your husband seemed to have continued religiously.

The performance itself had you mesmerised. The dancers were oh so elegant. You saw now why Mallory earned her title. The writing of the play was phenomenal, making it clear that Mr Plympton was a Hawthorne alumnus; it had you sucked in from the first note. Michael however, had spent the evening staring at you and at Mallory, you had slapped his hand away from you one too many times.

You were allowed backstage at the end of the performance, presenting flowers to Mallory and Xavier long with drinks for the rest of the cast.

“So, this is the Countess? You are far too beautiful to be on the arm of my friend over here. I’m Xavier my Lady, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you,” Xavier said, kissing your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too Mr Plympton, my husband has sung many praises about your work, now I can see why.”

“Oh, I sang many praises for him back in the day too, don’t you worry,” Xavier winked at Michael, the innuendo flying over your head.

Michael cleared his throat to interrupt the conversation, “I do believe we have a party to host tonight and we mustn’t be late.”

Everyone nodded and smiled in agreement, making their way to the waiting transport.

////

The party itself seemed wilder than the ball you held a month ago. That was high society. This was libertines and bohemians. Although an entertaining crowd to watch, not one you wanted to participate in. You had decided not to drink that night, not wanting to bring on another headache. You might have enjoyed yourself more if you had you thought.

“No wine tonight Lady Langdon?” asked Mallory.

You laughed and shook your head. You were standing on the balcony, overlooking the garden, the party in full swing behind you.

“I think I drank to much at the dinner hosted by Robichaux,” you replied.

It was her turn to giggle, “Oh yes I remember, I think you had a full bottle by the end of the night. I saw you roll your eyes and lose interest in that conversation. It was quite funny actually.”

You both looked at each other and laughed, thinking back to that night.

“Yes well, sometimes the count begins to speak, and I don’t really care for it, so I just stop listening.”

“I don’t think he’d be happy about that,” Mallory pointed out, taking a swig and finishing her glass.

“mmm happy about what,” Xavier slurred out, he wrapped his arms around Mallory’s waist and rested his chin on her head, his face was flush with a stupid grin plastered across it.

The sight of the pair drunkenly swaying brought a smile to your face. How nice its must have been, to not be subject to the rigid structures of the society you lived in. To be able to do whatever you wanted, without a care in the world. You wondered what type of woman you’d be if your upbringing wasn’t so strict or sheltered. Would you have confronted Michael? Would you have married him in the first place? You thought about it now. You never had the chance to say ‘no’. your father and brother had made all your life decisions up to this point. And now it seemed that Michael was doing the same. You wondered what freedom tasted like. Was it sweet? Did it have an aftertaste?

Your thoughts were interupped by Michael’s hands on your hips.

“What ahs you so deep in thought my love?”

You looked up to the stars, taking in the vastness of the night sky.

“Nothing really, maybe about our place in the universe. All the events that have led us to where we our now. Maybe fate or higher power,” you rambled.

“I think you might have enjoyed the philosophy lessons we had back at Hawthorne.”

“I care not for man of ages past, only the here and now,” you sighed again, leaning back onto Michael’s shoulder. “It’ll be a shame when winter comes. Such a beautiful garden will be barren for months. Almost as if it will never live again. But then, the spring comes, and it is reborn.”

“Life is a strange thing, there’s some things that are almost immortal, but we do not remember them. Then humans, mortal beings that leave their mark. Fascinating isn’t it? Michael mused.

You were interrupted by Xavier.

“We must get going. Mallory and the girls leave for Paris in the morning, so they must get to their lodgings and rest.”

You nodded and Michael and Xavier walked ahead, yourself and Mallory walking behind them, engaged in small talk.

You said your goodbyes and stayed behind to watch them leave and wave them off. The night had taken a toll on you, so you left for your room and retired for the night. You assumed Michael would spend the evening reminiscing with old friends and colleagues. So, you were surprised to see him already in bed.

You moved to go the dressing room to change, but you were stopped by Michael.

“You can undress here, in front of me.”

You looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

He just rolled his eyes, “I have seen it all before, don’t be shy now my love.”

Your cheeks heated up and you avoided eye contact with him as you shed your layers, finally leaving you in your under garments.

He curled his finger ins a ‘come hither’ motion, you slowly followed his command. He reached towards you and removed the final barriers, the chill causing goose bumps and your nipples to harden.

“Don’t just stand there, come on now,” he patted his lap. You climbed onto the bed, then onto his lap, where he wanted you.

You moaned lightly as you felt his stiff cock underneath you. His hand travelled up your sides, ticking the flesh. They finally reached you breasts, and you cried out at he began to tease your nipples. They had been sore and sensitive recently. He took a nipple into his mouth, noisily sucking on it. You threw your head back at the sensation. What a sight you were to him, moaning and mewling at the smallest of his touches. He gave the other nipple the same attention, before moving back with a wet ‘pop’.

“You’re so beautiful from up there.”

His hands moved to your hips again, lifting you and then slowly impaling you onto his cock, he couldn’t wait any longer.

You held onto his shoulders, your hips meeting every thrust. He pulled you into a searing kiss, capturing each other moans. You both came quickly. No matter what you thought about this man, or what he had done, you lust for him seemed to be paramount. His voice and his hands could make empires crumble, just like they did to you.

You collapsed onto his chest, exhausted from everything. No words were spoken as you drifted off.

////

Five days later, late in the afternoon, you had a visitor.

Madame Cordelia had come to visit.

Mallory had never made it home.

Next>>>

[lexfritterwrites]

Let Lips Do What Hands Do - Part 13

Washington is much the same as she left it, Addie decides. Her students are fine, the other teachers are nice and the little house she’s renting is suitable. Leaving Taron was the hardest thing she’d ever done, and she struggles to think her current life is what she left him for.

They text constantly, just as they did when they were together, and Addie resolves to be friends.

Fall shifts into the air; leaves change and seasonal rain rolls across the state. It was always Addie’s favorite time of year, and she calls Taron to tell him so.

“Adelaide.”

“Hi Taron! How are you?”

“Fine, thanks. Listen, Addie. We need to talk.”

“Oh.”

“I can’t keep doing this,” he says. “I can’t move on if I’m stuck on you.”

Addie stops on the sidewalk, her heart clamping at his words. “I thought we were friends.”

“We’re more than friends, Addie,” he says, “and the decision was made to split and I have to honor that decision.”

“Okay, goodbye.” She disconnects the call and stumbles to the nearest bench, trying to catch her breath. He would cast her as the villain for leaving when he made no plans to see her or leave London. Addie’s heart races and her hands shake.

Dating. That’s the plan. She downloads a few apps, sets up her profile and starts conversations. There’s a date at a coffee shop, one at the little Italian restaurant and one with the choir teacher. 

“I give up,” she says, switching the phone to speaker mode. “Now is not the time for me to date.”

“Now is just the time for you to date,” Jack says. “You’re young, hot, you’ve got a house, a car and a job. That alone sets you miles above some of the others.”

“I just can’t,” she says. “The last guy met me at a seedy bar and kept nodding his head towards the bathroom. I am a lady and I need to be wooed first.”

“Undoubtedly so,” Jack says. “Have you seen the news?”

“No,” Addie says, “I’ve tried to stay off the internet.”

“Taron has been seen out with a costar.”

“Really?”

“Ofelia Montague,” Jack says. “They’re in that new Branagh project together.”

“Of course they are,” Addie says, googling Taron’s name. The pictures look like something from a magazine ad: Taron’s leading her down the steps outside of a fancy restaurant. She’s wearing a sleek gown with a full-face of makeup and perfect hair. Taron has her hand in his and his suit jacket over his other shoulder. They’re smiling at each other and Addie rolls her eyes.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I knew this would happen.”

“I can’t tell you how to live your life,” Jack says, “but I would go get under that trainer at the gym you’ve been staring at.”

“He does have a remarkable ass.”

“How’s school?”

“It’s OK,” she says. “The kids are fine but I do miss my little British students. They always liked me.”

“So come home,” Jack says. “I miss you like crazy.”

“I miss you, too,” she says. “There’s so much about London that I miss.”

“It misses you! Come home.”

“Ugh, I thought I was coming home. I see my dad and Lucy once a week, but we would all be OK if I were across the pond.”

“Think about it, babe. I need my other half!”

“I’ll consider it. I miss those little meringue things.”

Addie is true to her word and gives up dating. Instead she gives herself into teaching and her hobbies, taking up baking and spin class. It’s mid-October when the call comes.

“Taron, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Why does something need to be wrong for me to call you?”

“We haven’t talked at all in two months! Are

you just calling me to shoot the breeze?”

“Addie, I’m sorry! I didn’t think how it would look. I actually have good news and a question.”

“Okay.”

“First of all, are you well?”

“I am living,” Addie says. “How are you?”

“Great,” he says. “I am headed to Los Angeles a couple of weeks before Christmas. How would you feel about me coming to visit you for a few days after?”

“Why?”

“I miss you,” he says. “I miss having you around, and I want to see where you’re living and working.”

“You miss me?”

“Of course I miss you,” he says. “You were a staple in my life for a year and I’m aching without you around. I just want a platonic visit with one of my dearest companions.”

“December?”

“December, yeah.”

“Okay,” Addie says. “We can do December.”

Addie sees the headlights reflect on her living room wall and she’s off the couch. She knows she should appear uninterested but this is Taron. He opens his arms to her as soon as she’s running towards him and he kisses her hair.

“Hi,” she says softly, her nose against his neck.

“Hello.”

“How are you?”

“Better now that I am here,” he says, putting her at an arm’s length. “You look great!”

“I’ve lost thirty pounds,” she says. “Apparently when I get depressed, I eat less.”

“Apparently I’ve gained everything you’ve lost.” He chuckles.

“You still look great,” she says. “Let’s get your stuff inside. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat, yeah.”

They’re perfectly amicable at dinner, and her gut continually turns to mush. Her Apple Watch beeps every few minutes to alert her of a spiking heart rate, and she knows it’s because Taron is here.

Taron can’t keep his eyes off of her. She’s still just as lovely and wonderful as she was when they were together, and he’s contemplating making a career change for her.

It takes everything in him to not reach for her hand as they leave the restaurant and she drives him back to her house. 

Addie sighs and sags against the wall. She runs her hands over her face as she breathes, something like panic making her skin too tight across her bones.

"Addie, are you all right?" Taron asks, wrapping an arm around her elbows.

"You shouldn't be here," she mumbles behind her hands with tears welling in her eyes.

"What?" Taron asks, his face pinching at his brow. He heard her perfectly but thought perhaps he misunderstood her.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Why not?" God, his heart's racing and he's starting to feel rage boil from his gut to heat his face.

"We should never have broken up. We should have tried to make it work. We should have fought for us." Addie still has her knuckles pressed against her eyelids. It's easier to admit it if she doesn't have to see the dismay on his face. "I should have fought for you. For me. I love you. I still love you. Being with you like this is painful, to know what we had but will never have again. What could we have had? We'll never know."

"We'll never know?"

"You're with Ofelia now, aren't you? You're doing exactly what I knew you would. You've met a gorgeous, leggy thing with perky boobs and a non-existent waist. You deserve her, honestly, if she treats you right."

"Addie, I think you're drunk."

"I'm crying my eyes out to you, blubbering like an idiot with the things I've been feeling this entire time, and you have the audacity to tell me I'm drunk?"

"Well, not when you say it like that. I just want to be sure you know what you're saying."

"Of course I know what I'm saying," Addie says, finally dropping her hands. She runs her fingers beneath her eyes to stop the makeup from smearing further down her cheeks. "Go be with Ofelia."

"We're not together."

"What?"

"Fe and I," Taron says. "Not together. We're just friends."

"You look very comfortable together."

"We can be because there's nothing between us," Taron answers. "It's actually not my place to say but Fe is a lesbian."

"What?"

"A lesbian, Adelaide. She's got no interest in me and no use for my dick."

"I have interest in you and a use for your dick!”

They're like magnets, first their lips and then their bodies fusing together. Addie sobs at the feeling of his mouth on hers, hot and sweet and full of everything she had missed in his absence. His hand is on her back, pressing into her and Addie doesn't even know what her hands are doing aside from touching him wherever they can.

"Adelaide."

She whimpers at the word, having thought she would never hear him say her name that way again — the way that makes her heart race and her gut turn to mush. She's fighting against his sweater and shirt, wanting to feel the heat of his skin. Grunting, he pulls them off before taking her face between his hands and kissing her. Damn, he can't stop kissing her. He'd missed the taste of her lips and the warmth of her mouth, and he shivers as she runs her fingers through his hair.

He's tugging at the hem of her dress, lifting it just high enough to slide his fingers beneath her leggings and underwear. It's like a drug to him, the way her grip tightens in his hair as his fingers slip inside her while his thumb massages her clit.

Addie trembles against him as an orgasm rushes swiftly through her, and his moan echoes hers. She only thought he was hard until she feels the bulge pressing into her belly. She needs him inside her immediately.

It's a dance to her bedroom — pants here, a shoe there, her leggings a wadded heap on the floor.

Taron had imagined dragging things out for as long as possible when they were reunited this way, if they were reunited this way, but those notions are quickly forgotten as his body covers hers. Too long he's been without her sweetness, too long he's shrunk without her warmth, too long since her lips have sung the praises of their bodies together. She's warm and wet as he presses inside her, both of them exhaling at the feeling of having what was once lost. He can't kiss her enough, trying to touch her everywhere at once while keeping the rhythm of her heart with his hips. In turn, Addie can't get him close enough, knowing she could be without him again.

Taron needs to see her, to know she's really there, and the shock of her gaze meeting his sends him over the edge immediately. He's not even remotely soft afterwards so he continues to thrust into her, and Addie falls into that peaceful abyss.

She loses count after five orgasms and stretches her toes sometime later, Taron's head resting between her breasts. It's odd to her they should be in bed like this after being apart for so long, yet it makes complete sense. He is the love of her life, after all.

Taron snorts, nuzzling his nose against her ribs. "We're shite at just being friends, huh? What —with the distance and all that?"

"Actually there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Taron's head pops up so he can look at her. "What?"

"You remember Dr. Williams, the man in charge of my degree program?"

"The good looking one with all the hair?"

"Precisely. His husband has just been named headmaster of a new school for gifted underprivileged children they're opening in north London, and he's offered me a position in the English department. I'll be able to teach how I want within loose guidelines and the students all actually want to be there. I could actually make a difference."

"You could make a difference anywhere," Taron says quickly. He gathers her fingers in his and very briefly kiss the tips. "Are you going to take it?"

"I report at the end of August for training."

"Adelaide!" Taron squeals, dropping his forehead to her chest. "You're moving back to England?"

"Yep." She runs her fingers through his short hair, his breath warm against her chest. She sighs when a tear falls against her skin, and she tilts his face up towards hers.

"I'm good, I'm good," he says. "I'm really good." Tears cling to his eyelashes but his lips curl upwards. "I just thought we were over, and here we are in your bed, naked, and you're moving back to England." He takes a deep breath, moving so his face is over hers. "I'm overwhelmed by the thought of you being with me again. You know, if you want it."

She feels the heat rise in his cheeks beneath her finger tips and she laughs. "Of course I want it. I was moving back to England because I love it there. It feels more to me like home than Washington does now, and having you there is just the cherry on top of the sundae. I'm moving in with Jack though, at least for a little while. I think that's best."

"I don't care where you live as long as we're on the same continent." He brushes her cheek with the back of his hand before kissing her deeply and long, but keeping it from becoming sexual. This is more than that — this is two souls becoming one rather than two bodies. "I love you, Adelaide, and I'm so happy you're mine."

"You think we can make the distance work until June?"

"There is no distance great enough to keep me from you."

"I love you," she says. "I love you, Taron David Egerton."

"Moving back to England!" He says. "That's so fucking brilliant, Adelaide!"

"God save the Queen," Addie cheers, wrapping her arms around him.  "Are you happy?"

"I'm ecstatic!" Taron cries, kissing her. "I'm over the moon." His lips land against her jaw. "I can't believe you'll be back across the pond in a few short months."

"I know," she says. "It's been torture not telling you. I wanted to make sure it was what I wanted and that the job was mine."

"Adelaide," he hums again, nuzzling her neck. She purs, shifting her head so he can kiss her clavicle. "I feel like bursting out of my skin I'm so excited!" He shifts so his face is even with hers once more. "Are you sure you want to move back? It's not just for me? I don’t want to sound bold in even asking the question.”

“Rest assured I am moving to England for me. I miss it so much. I miss the food, I miss hearing about the Royals when I walk down the street, I miss the history. I miss Jack, and it’s obvious how I’ve missed you.”

“Bang on, Addie! This is so fucking perfect, I can’t stand it!” He kisses her with such conviction she giggles, and all words are quickly forgotten as they move together.

[gallantgautier]

Birthright

ooc: A li’l IC drabble. This is happening in plain sight so if anyone wants their muse to have seen/heard about this, feel free. Just obvs keep in mind the parts that are spoken in hushed voices etc

He’s a full half hour early, and he hates it.

Hates that he can’t escape this, that he can’t just pull a half-baked excuse out of his ass. Couldn’t get out of classes. No, they really were important. Had an important essay to work on. The daughter of a noble family wanted to meet me; don’t you think that’s more important?

He hates that it’s not even that cold – by his standards at least – but his hands won’t stop shaking as he watches the dark, fuzzy blobs in the distance he knows to be horses trek their way up the road to the monastery. Hates that the Crest of Gautier on its red field is clear only because it’s burned into his mind and not that he can make out its barbed shape.

Mostly, he hates that this is happening here, open and exposed at the gates of Garreg Mach. Too many people around, too many classmates he’s offered brittle smiles and waved away with light-hearted jokes that sit like ash in his throat.

Hoofbeats draw closer, clattering on the cobbled road, or maybe it’s the sound of his heart hammering in his ribcage, Sylvain isn’t sure.

More than a handful of times, he’s heard the people of Fearghus likened to lions, proud and powerful, protective and brave. But as Margrave Gautier draws up his mount and slides out of the saddle, handing the reins to one of his men, Sylvain has only ever been able to picture a bear. From the wide set of his shoulders made to look even bigger by the thick furs draped over them, to his long, purposeful stride and fierce, dark, stormy grey eyes under heavy set brows.

The russet shade of his hair is their only obvious similarity, Miklan took more after their father than Sylvain ever did, a fact he’s sure the Margrave has lamented in the past. His eldest, so much like him in so many ways, save for the one that he needed to be.

As the man approaches, Sylvain lowers his gaze, thankful that he now has reason to clasp his hands behind his back, posture stiff, obedient. It helps to keep him from shaking, stops his eyes straying to the unsettling, twitching barbs of the Lance of Ruin fastened upon Gullan’s back. If he keeps his attention upon his shoes, he doesn’t have to notice if anyone passes. Will they stop and stare? Judge him? Ask questions later? Who was that cowed, quiet boy? Where was the boisterous layabout they knew?

“Sylvain.” It’s thunder, or a war drum, his signal – no, permission – to raise his head. Gullan’s arms are held out at his sides, just a little towards him. There’s no affection in the gesture, nor in the quick embrace he steps in into, an act for onlookers, what a meeting between father and son should look like.

“Father,” Sylvain answers, automatic, and steps back into his own space. He draws a careful breath, remembers his etiquette lessons. His voice comes out level, but it’s a practiced, emotionless sound. “The Academy is honoured to host you. Shall I show you around?”

“No need, I know the way.” No doubt, he has business with the Archbishop, and no doubt, Sylvain will only hear as much of it as his father wants him to, no more, no less. “After I meet with Lady Rhea, I expect you to meet with me to further discuss your performance in the mock battle. Over tea, perhaps. I should like to hear your own account, the official report can only tell me so much.”

“Yes father,” is his immediate response. It’s not a suggestion, even if it sounds very much like one, and he’ll expect a meal to go with it, which will go untouched. It’s all for the sake of appearances, not of any genuine desire to spend time with his only remaining son. “Shall I take your cloak?”

“In a moment.” There’s something Sylvain can’t quite decipher in his face, wouldn’t have been able to even if he had been able to hold the Margrave’s gaze. Something guarded, and perhaps… Concerned? It’s so foreign upon his face that Sylvain thinks he imagined it. “First, as you are doubtless already aware, the frequency of bandit attacks in the kingdom has been on the rise, more recently, an attempt was made upon Castle Gautier. While unsuccessful, we later learned that their target was the Hero’s Relic. I’m sure you’ve already drawn your own conclusions as to which group was responsible.”

He remembers fierce, covetous eyes flicking from him to the Lance and back, in time with the dull, deep read pulse of its beating heart. He remembers clenched fists that longed to reach for it and instead blackened his eyes. He remembers a threat sung to him like a promise, maybe I’ll be at the other end when it runs you through, brother.

“Miklan.”

Gullan’s head shifts in the smallest of nods, approval more at the way Sylvain lowers his voice than at his deduction, it’s the closest he’ll get to any form of praise. “Indeed. Skirmishes with Sreng have also been on the rise, all it would take is better timing on his part for him to be successful. We were lucky, I would not rely on such luck a second time.” A pause, a barely there stiffening of the Margrave’s shoulders. “The Relic has been instrumental in our defence of the border, but it will be as good as useless in the hands of bandits. Continuing to house it within Castle Gautier would be folly.”

Sylvain blinks, that would certainly explain the almost-but-not-quite hesitance. No doubt his father thought about this at length, and it’s in no way a decision he would make lightly. He keeps his voice low, head turned to one side, eyes flicking here and there to check for onlookers and eavesdroppers. “That’s why you’re here, then? To entrust the Relic to the Church?”

“No,” Gullan answers, just as quiet. Confused, Sylvain faces him again, and this time he’s met with a familiar gleam. It’s the other similarity they share, the one Sylvain gets during an excellent play on the chessboard, when all the pieces fall into place exactly where he needs them to be. This time, he can’t help but feel he is one of those pieces. “Kneel, Sylvain.”

The Margrave lifts his head, reaching to pull the Lance from his back. A quick glance before dropping to a knee, and Sylvain notes that a few passers by have paused to watch, it’s not every day they get to see a Relic, he supposes. Gullan holds the weapon lengthways across his chest – and Sylvain does his best to ignore the awful twitching – and extends his arms towards him.

“For your bravery in Almyra,” Gullan says, not loud, but solid and clear and definitely audible to the small gathering nearby, much to Sylvain’s chagrin, “and your performance in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, I deem you worthy of the Lance of Ruin.”

So, that’s his play.

“Rise, Sylvain Gautier, and accept your birth right.”

On shaking legs, Sylvain does as commanded, standing straight, shoulders back, and extends his hands palms held skyward. The Lance is pressed into them, and immediately he takes a sharp inhale through his nose in place of the gasp he wants to let out. It’s not as heavy as it looks, perhaps down to his blood that sings in his veins. The thing feels alive in his hands, thrumming like a heartbeat, and he grips it tight enough for his knuckles to whiten in answer. It makes his stomach turn.

“You honour me, father.” He’s relieved that his voice came out clear, rather than the breathless, sickly thing he certainly feels like.

“Guard it well.” The Margrave says, “that will be all for now. I will send word ahead of our later meeting, you are dismissed, Sylvain.”

“Yes father.” He knows better than to hesitate. He dips into a bow and turns, not pausing to chat with anyone who stares as he passes. Not pausing to even look for anyone he might know.

Not pausing to cast one look back over his shoulder, where Margrave Gautier watches his retreating back with a well-guarded sadness in his eyes and an apology that remains unspoken.

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

[Sylvain receives The Lance of Ruin]

[certified-soft-si-content]

Obviously gotta ask for Christine with all the POTO asks!!! 💙💙💙

eEEEEEEEEE THANK YOU BUDDU!!!! God I love Christine so much eeeeeeee

(You know I do)

I remember there was mist – How did you meet your f/o? Was there anything mysterious about them that captured your interest? Or were you perhaps the one with an air of mystery that intrigued them?

Christine and I first met when we were young and growing up in the operahouse! There wasn't really any mystery attached, we were just good friends.

Paper faces on parade – Do, or did you ever, put up a front around your f/o? Or do they put up a front around you or anyone you two know?

Hmm... I wouldn't say I necessarily put up a front around her? Although...

As backstory for my SI, when I was a teenager and figured out - surprise! I'm not a girl - Madame Giry arranged for me to leave the operahouse to find someone who could help me figure out my gender and present as masculine (because alas, this is in the 1800s and gender affirming surgery doesn't exist yet). I returned to the operahouse under the guise of being a completely different person, and I didn't reveal the truth to Christine for a while (obviously I did eventually though, and she responded with love and acceptance).

Spare a thought for me – What makes you think of your f/o? Is it a scent, an item in your home, a texture, a song lyric? What makes them think of you?

Generally every song sung by her makes me think of her, for obvious reasons, although things like intricate dresses and roses also make me think of her.

The scent of candles (either burning or blown out) and old books makes Christine think of me 🥰

That voice which calls to me – What does your f/o sound like to you? If you were to ask your f/o, what would they think your voice sounds like?

I mean - is it cliche of me to say Christine sounds like an angel? Her voice is so clear and true and I just - it's perfect. Her voice is perfect.

If you asked Christine, she'd probably say that most of the time I sound quite sharp and clear, with a cynical edge to my voice; however, when it's just us my voice grows a lot softer and gentler.

Where you long to be – Where do you most often dream of being together with your f/o?

Paris - although far enough away from the operahouse where everything happened so as not to bring back painful memories. We have our own house for just the two of us (and our two cats).

Make my song take flight – What little tells does your f/o have that show they’re in love? What are your tells?

Christine blushes easily and when I'm speaking she leans in eagerly, listening in to every word. As for me, I tend to also blush easily and I'll often mess with my hair a lot 😅

All the sadness of the world – Have you and your f/o ever gone through a rough patch? How did you work through it?

I mean - the events of the musical are... rough, to say the least, particularly in Act 2. Christine's feelings towards the Phantom are complicated and while I understand that, I also want to protect her, so it's a little messy for a while. Still, we're very good at listening to and understanding each other's feelings and worries regarding the situation.

Talk of summertime – Do you talk about your future often with your f/o? What does that future look like?

We talk about it a lot 🥰 we get engaged shortly after the events of the musical, so we talk a lot about getting married and what life will be like once we are. It'll be the two of us, our house together, and our two cats. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

No second thoughts – When did you and your f/o decide to progress the relationship? What was the deciding moment?

As I mentioned above, Christine and I got engaged shortly after the events of the musical. I was living in an apartment and invited Christine to stay with me so she wouldn't have to go anywhere near the operahouse anymore, and we stayed there together for a number of weeks as the dust settled among everything that had happened. During that time, we spoke a bit about living together and how we'd both feel if we lived together permanently (we'd already discussed it briefly, but spoke in more depth about it this time). Around a month after that... I proposed.

The unseen genius – You walk in on your f/o singing your praises to someone, and they have yet to notice you. What are they saying? Alternatively, what would your f/o overhear if they caught you talking about them to someone?

Oh... 🥰🥰🥰

Christine would likely be talking about my personality - how gentle and sweet I am with her, how I respect her boundaries and protect her (which I'd argue isn't even praise worthy, but the two other men in Christine's life who were attracted to her were awful to her, so).

If she overheard me talking about her to someone else, she'd hear me talking about her voice and how beautiful it is, how beautiful she is in general, and how kind and open-hearted she is to everyone. I love her so much.

Warm unspoken secrets – Tell us a daydream you have about you and your f/o. It can be fluffy, spicy, or anywhere in between.

I have a daydream with Christine that's just... the two of us, lying in bed til late morning, just cuddling and occasionally speaking softly to each other. We make breakfast (crepes) together (Christine totally gets batter on my nose) and then just spend the whole day quietly together, and playing with our cats. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

A strange, sweet sound – Is your f/o at all musically inclined?

DEFINITELY. Christine's voice is phenomenal. I could genuinely listen to her for days on end (but that wouldn't be healthy for her at all, so not doing that).

The prison in my mind – What haunts your f/o, and how do you help them with it?

Everything that happened during the events of the musical - the Phantom, the murders, being used as bait and then kidnapped while I was held hostage... it's a lot of dark stuff that weighs heavily on Christine's mind. I always hold her whenever she needs to be held, pull her close and reassure her that nothing like that will ever happen again for as long as we both live. If she ever needs to talk through her feelings towards the whole thing - which can be quite complicated, then I'm always there to listen and help her rationalise her thoughts.

One love, one lifetime – Are you your f/o’s first partner, or do they come to the relationship with experience? Is there anything you both need to work on to strengthen your relationship?

I'm not Christine's first partner, as she and Raoul were childhood sweethearts - but she still is quite naive when it comes to relationships, particularly healthy ones - thanks, Raoul. Thanks, Erik.

Christine needs to work on speaking up when there's something that makes her uncomfortable, which she can find quite difficult but I will always encourage. I need to work on not letting my self esteem get in the way of our relationship - sometimes I'll go through periods of feeling like I'm not enough for Christine, though she'll always refute those thoughts and I'm working on them ^.^

When words run dry – What nonverbal ways do you two say “I love you” to each other?

One way is when we're winding down to go to bed, I brush Christine's hair for her. I'm slow and gentle with it, as being as curly as it is it can get knotted easily, and it's very quiet and peaceful between the two of us as I do. When I'm done, Christine will often press a kiss to my cheek in thanks, and we'll go to sleep holding each other.

🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[redcrossroads]

Alone Is In The Past Family Is Now

@plaidsleep I’m your secret santa for @dgmsecretsanta2k19! Your prompts were a godsend and I hope you’ll enjoy what I wrote. I wish you a Merry Christmas and hope you’ll have fun reading this~.

Also, lots of gratitude for the wonderful team hosting this event! Happy holidays everyone!

Summary: It’s Wisely’s first Christmas with his family since reincarnating. They’re a noisy bunch of eccentrics and while he loves them he’s not a fan of enduring the Christmas party Sheryl will force them to attend. Having accepted his fate as he doesn’t find any excuses believable enough to explain his absence, he doesn’t expect Tyki to kidnap him straight out of bed first thing in the morning.

„What’s the point of this?”

Snow crunching underneath his boots Wisely makes a face when smoke is blown into his face. The smell of tabaco is sharp in his nose, his sense dialed up quite a notch due to his genes. Another sharp breeze of icy wind ruffles his hair and he mourns the loss of his scarf shielding his forehead from the cold in this weather.

“Can’t you guess, Mister Lack of Privacy?”

“I don’t need to guess.”

He huffs as he tugs his hands into his pockets. Eying the people pushing past them with thin veiled annoyance. The thoughts tumbling inside the minds of these simpletons are nothing but a headache in the making. Huddling a step closer to the Tyki in hope of distancing himself from the on slaughter of people Wisely lets his lips curl into a smirk as he glances up at the man busy sucking smoke into his lungs.

“It’s not like you’re difficult to read. Your mind is an open book to everybody willing to take a look with barely any words written on the pages.”

“Careful now. I’m not above leaving you out here to fend for yourself.”

It’s a half-hearted warning at best. But it’s one Wisely choses to heed for once. After all the trouble the man went through to get him up and dressed for the weather without anyone noticing them sneaking away for the day when Sheryl would be out for blood since they would miss the Christmas ball he’s planned is enough of a gesture of kindness to mind his manners for now.

He’s grateful for every second he’s away from all the horrid Christmas singing Road will force the family to take part in. Itchy clothing far too formal for his tastes and Sheryl insisting he’d dance with Road to represent the family while ignoring the deafening noise of the upper class and the girls making eyes at him.

Tyki could have went out without him in the first place. Which of course doesn’t mean Wisely won’t be throwing him under the buss if his adoptive father comes looking. Or worse if Road came looking for them. Shuddering at the thought of what would be another tantrum of the painful sort, he tries to block out these thoughts.

“Are you cold?”

Tyki blinks, glancing down at him with outright amusement tugging up the corners of his mouth. The cigarette hangs between his lips, burning away in the cold winter air.

“No, just thought of what Road will do when she finds out we went to the Christmas market without her.”

Wisely grins when Tyki ends up choking on an inhale of smoke, thumping him on the back. He gets a glower in return before an arm pulls him closer around the shoulders, pulling him into a headlock as Tyki rubs his knuckles viciously over his head. He yelps in protest at the rough treatment of his hair, feeling the sting of his scalp.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

“Not so funny now, is it genius?”

Tyki drawls out as he lets up with his fist. The smug grin on his pale face tinted with blotches of pink from the cold is an irritating thing to see.

“Didn’t see that coming, huh?”

“Bugger off!”

Puffing out his cheeks Wisely scowls. The arm settling loosely around his shoulders is a comfortable weight but he has half a mind to shrug it off to show his displeasure. He glares at the people daring to send them dirty looks, wishing he could melt what little amount of brain they had without attracting attention.

“Next time I’m going to blurt out your embarrassing thoughts to everybody at the dinner table. Every single one. No matter how vile or dirty they are.”

“Sure, go ahead. I’m not ashamed by pleasure.”

Tyki winks, taking out his cigarette before flicking it into the snow.

“I’ll tell Desire you love him. I wonder how he would react if I tell him how much his little brother thinks about getting his hugs—”

Tyki’s smile slips from his face. Dread in its former place. “You wouldn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

Wisely’s grin is full of teeth. Tyki shakes his head, shuddering at the thought as he steers them into another direction. They take the left turn at the cross road, the Christmas lights getting brighter as decoration fills up the streets beyond the single lights they passed.

Ribbons of red hung upon small trees lining up the sidewalk into the market place. Ornaments of golden paper hung from the branches, flickering in the bright lights of the street lamp. A large tree stood in the middle of the place with a golden star at the top and little angels of wax fastened upon the pine needles. The bustling of people marching from one booth to another made the place seem crowded. Children were laughing, running around while throwing snow as they sung off-key Christmas songs and lullabies to the wind. The smell of sweetness coming from the central is drawing people in like moths to a flame.

Tyki lights up another cigarette.

“I’d say stay close to me so you don’t get lost but I doubt I’d be able to lose you with what you’re wearing.”

Frowning as he glanced down at his outfit Wisely raised a brow.

„Got a problem?“

„No,“

Tyki makes a face, lips curling as he blows out a cloud of smoke into the air.

“As long as I don’t have to wear one. I’m all for not giving a shit about appearances but that’s where I draw a line.”

“You’re just jealous the Earl made mine with more care than yours.”

The sweater is a deep forest green, knitted by the Earl. In the middle of the chest is a replica of his demon eye in monochrome colors while small pieces of glitter were stuck onto the center. It’s warm and comfortable and it’s the first piece of clothing made for him by another person.

He wears it with pride.

“It’s hideous.” Tyki says, disgust wrinkling his nose and Wisely sticks out his tongue as they observe the people wandering about.

“It’s perfect.”

He’d never make the Earl sad by refusing to wear his gifts. The others ought to follow his example. It’s not as if the twins could look any more horrid with their makeup than they do now.

“Fine, fine.”

Flicking away ash as he draws his arm away from Wisely’s shoulder to brush his hair away from his face with his free hand, Tyki holds out his hand.

“Let’s go. We can’t stay in one place for long.”

“Really?”

Letting out a sigh Wisely narrows his eyes at the offered hand but takes it into his own nonetheless. Lean fingers curl around his own with surprising strength before their joint hands are tugged into the pocket of Tyki’s coat to keep them warm.

“I’m not a child.”

“You’re my nephew. Can’t have you running off now, can I?”

Not waiting for an answer Tyki drags him towards the masses of noisy people buzzing around not unlike a stingy wasp out for a fight. Wisely scowls as people brush past him, their shoulders nudging him to make space for themselves. Giving them the evil eye, he tries to block out the mindless noise.

“We should buy some sweets for Road.”

He offers, squinting at one of the booths selling candy. Knowing her it’d make little difference to the crime they committed in not taking her along with them but her temper tantrum of violence would be softened a bit with the peace offering. Perhaps enough bribery will get the job of distraction done and he’ll manage to make it to the Earl’s bed to hide for a nap.

“Good thinking. I knew I took you along for a reason.”

The praise falls flat in the face of teasing. Not appreciating being treated like a dog Wisely digs his nails into Tyki’s palm hidden from view and relishes in the wince the man gives.

“More like dragged me straight out of bed to kidnap me.”

He mumbles into his scarf warped around his neck instead of his head knowing a turban would attract too many stares in the streets.

People would take a second glance at that, but not at a starving child begging in the streets.

Humans really are the worst sort of sinners.

His line of thought is interrupted as Tyki rolls his eyes, tugging him to stand in line at one of the booths. The chatter around them fades into static noise as he focuses his attention on Tyki’s voice.

“By the time you managed to get your ass out of bed Sheryl would be breathing down our neck.”

“That didn’t mean you had to yell to wake me up.”

The perks of having a soundproof room for his headaches could also be a curse. Wisely’s not planning on letting go of that. As soon as the holidays are over, he’ll get revenge.

“Be thankful I didn’t pour water over your head.”

Wisely opens his mouth to reply but their conversation is cut short as they’re at the front of the line. Tyki buys a variety of sweets, from chocolates to Christmas crackers and roasted almonds and cookies.

“Do you want anything?”

“Not from here.”

The plump man behind the counter twitches at his rudeness but doesn’t comment on it as Tyki stuffs the package of sweets into his other pocket and walks off with him in tow.

Snow beings to fall and the children near them stopping in their giggling to shriek in excitement.

Wisely grimaces at the sound.

“C’mon, let me treat you to some hot chocolate.”

Tyki seems to notice his worsening mood and the beginning of the headache forming. Offering no protest Wisely finds himself holding a steaming cup of pure sweetness as the woman behind the counter of another booth coos at the apparent act of kindness.

“Is that your son?”

“Afraid not, Miss. He’s my nephew.”

Tyki sighs as he crushes the butt of his cigarette with his boot, looking like he mourns the loss of nicotine on his tongue. Wisely scowls, sullenly sipping on his drink as he watches Tyki lean against the counter to chat up the woman.

Cupping both hands around the hot cup, he buries his nose into his scarf, narrowing his eyes in impatience.

He manages another five minutes as he lets the chocolate coat his tongue and chase away the chill of winter before the high sound the woman produces with her laughter grates on his nerves and he clears his throat. The snow flakes landing inside his cup make the appeal of a hot drink tasteless.

“You’re wasting your time, uncle, not only is she married and thinking about cheating on her husband, she’s also got another guy on the side. I doubt you’d want to catch the disease she’s worrying about either.”

“Why you little—”

“Alright! That’s enough, let’s go.”

Tyki spins him around, taking his shoulders before shoving him as far from the spluttering women yelling curses their way as he can. Cup flying from his hands Wisely lets himself be pushed along a safe distance until he digs in his heels.

“You’re annoying when you’re grumpy.”

“Your flirting is tacky. You could have done that at the party as well. But you dragged me out into the cold with the promise of a good time. All I see are noisy brats.”

Tyki frowns, still holding him at the shoulders but facing him now. They ignore the curious glances from the passersby with ease. His brows furrowing as he looms close before he nods and pulls away.

“Do you have the medicine from the Earl with you?”

“No,”

Wisely whines, the throbbing of his skull not easing up with all the noise around. He tugs at Tyki’s coat sleeve.

“You dragged me out the door before I could get them.”

It’s no secret he’s prone to headaches with his demon eye. But unlike last time, this one came didn’t come from a fight but from an overload of mindless information spinning around his ears. The cold doesn’t help. He wants his bed, warm and save and quiet. Maybe with the Earl’s squishy form hugging him close. It’s been far too long since he’s had this family, so he’s not ashamed off his neediness.

Even if it can be a bit too much from time to time. He’s getting used to the new personalities trying not to get them mixed up with the old ones he knows and the fact he was the last to join the party of their siblinghood stings inside his chest.

“I guess this time I’ll take the blame. Is there anything I can do?”

While the question sounds exasperated Tyki’s eyes are a soft amber, the frown on his face full of barely concealed concern as he reaches out to brush off the snow on his shoulders and head. Hands running through his hair, gently messaging the scalp, it does little to help with the sharp pang of pain inside his mind.

“Got the short end of the stick as the only Noah likely to suffer from headaches of all things.”

“—Then again, maybe I should’ve asked before I dragged him along.”

“Wouldn’t have been much of a surprise…”

“…wanted him to have a good time.”

“Instead of hiding away and boring himself to death at some sleazy party—”

“Can’t stay holed up in his room all the time—”

“Not really. I’ll let you know if I can think of something that’ll work other than the Earl’s medicine.”

He offers a wry smile, cheeks flushing a bit at the thoughts he’s read. Warmth chases away the biting cold and gratitude blooms in his chest at the thought of no longer having to spent his time rotting away on the streets. Tyki blinks at the change in his mood, narrowing his eyes before he grins.

Wisely startles as he’s pulled along the streets with no warning. They leave the Christmas market behind in favor of Tyki dragging him along and for a moment, he thinks Tyki must have seen Road or another member of the family to flee at such a quick pace.

It’s not the case when Tyki takes a sharp turn after several streets, drags him forward and trips him face first into a pile of snow.

“Cold things can cure headaches, don’t they?”

Throwing a snowball in Tyki’s laughing face is Wisely’s answer. His laughter is cut off as he gets a mouthful of snow and Wisely doesn’t hesitate in scooping up another one to hurl it at the man. It hits him in the throat. Tyki hisses at the sharp sting of frost before he offers a feral grin.

“You’re going to regret that.”

It’s a threat and the next snowball Wisely throws goes straight through the man.

“Shit.”

Tyki chuckles, eyes gleaming as they crinkle with mischief. A grin stretches across his face from ear to ear and Wisely flinches at the sight.

“Oh yes. Let’s see how this will work out for you, smartass.”

“Hold on, that’s cheating!”

Wisely is running across the open field they managed to find, scarf becoming loose and flying over one shoulder in the breeze. Warm puffs of air cloud his vision as he pants from the exercise, cursing as he hears the crunching of footsteps in the snow behind him come near.

“Too bad for you I’m an expert cheater.”

Tyki shouts, tackling him into the snow. Wisely shrieks as he faceplants into the coldness. Tyki’s weight on his back is heavy and warm and no matter how hard Wisely buckles and tries to crawl away the man doesn’t move an inch. He kicks out when a hand dumps snow on his head, rubbing it in as his face is pressed onto the ground.

“Get off me!”

“Or what?”

Good question. Wisely grunts as snow slides down on his back.

“I’ll make your head explode!”

Tyki pauses. His voice is uncertain when he speaks and Wisely doesn’t have to try to read his thought to deduce what he’s thinking.

The weight on his back shifts nervously. “Can you actually do that?”

“Are you willing to find out?”

He spits out through clenched teeth, lashing out with a fist. He gets Tyki right in the side of his throat. The man chokes, hands flying up to shield his neck as he topples off of Wisely’s back to the side. Rolling over, so he’s lying on his back he waits until Tyki’s wheezing for air is down to normal breathing again.

Minutes pass as they lay in the snow, letting it soak through their ruined coats. Over their heads is a blanket of grey, shielding what little sun might’ve shined through the dark clouds from sight. Snow continues to drift to earth, melting upon making contact with their skin as they breath invisible clouds of hot air into the early morning breeze. Their chests rising with each beat of their former excitement of a chase.

Wisely nudges Tyki’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

Tyki asks, pursing his lips as he turns his head. His hair is curling at the edges, framing his face in a wild fashion from the row they had. Pale skin pink and glossy from the water of melted snow he looks like a drowned cat with the way he blinks the flakes from his eyes, some clinging to his hair.

There’s a limit to obviousness…and you’ve surpassed it Joyd.

“I’m not spelling it out for you if you can’t figure it out yourself.”

Sitting up Wisely brushes the snow from his clothes. His sweater and coat clings to his back and the sensation of drenched clothes on his skin is disgusting. He wrinkles his nose as he stands.

“Not sharing what you know kind of makes you useless.”

Tyki grumbles as he picks himself up but there’s no bite behind his words.

“Sheryl will have a fit when he sees us like this.”

“I hope you haven’t crushed the candy for Road in your fall. She won’t be pleased if you did.”

Tyki blanches, checking his pockets with an urgency lacking all of his fine grace. Wisely smirks when the cursing starts, watching the man pick out crumbles of cookies with a look of pure terror on his face.

“Shit. I’ve got no money left.”

“That’s too bad. Good luck in telling her what happened.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply as he rushes down the street. He ignores Tyki’s shouting as he runs back to the main street, pushing past the people with barely a glance to see if Tyki is following.

His priority is getting to safety. His advantage is he knows Desire will look for Joyd first, which will give him additional time to make it to the Earl’s bed. A safe heaven where no fighting shall take place. An unspoken rule nobody dared to break.

Too bad Tyki won’t make it there in time.

Hours later under the bright lights of Desire’s over the top decorations with Road in his arms swaying to the beat of one of the cheesy Christmas songs she’s taken a liking to, red dress swaying from side to side, he sees Tyki walk in with a suit. His face twists into a grimace when Road winks and he scurries out of sight. Despite hating the formal clothes he wears, the people chattering around him, the stuffy hot air and the loudness of the obnoxious orchesta shattering his eardrums Wisely finds himself smiling.

“What’s up with that? You hate parties.”

Road’s eyes are brighter than the lights illuminating the room, a thing only happiness manages to capture and bring forth on her face. Wisely shrugs, smile stuck to his face as he sighs.

“Don’t make me answer questions you already know the answer to. It’s exhausting and you’re the only one here who knows anything aside from me. Playing dumb is more Joyd’s thing.”

“Already choose a favorite, I see.”

Road chuckles, lips twisting into a smirk that has him fearing she’ll stomp on his feet despite having the ability to see it coming.

“Tyki is rather endearing. I’m sure he’ll be willing to sneak away with you as soon as Daddy will leave him out of sight. I might be willing to distract him for you.”

“Why?”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Wisely.”

She chides as the music comes to a stop. Not giving him the chance to make a choice she drags him away from the dance floor, heels clacking with every step.

“I like seeing you happy. Family is special, you know?”

Standing on her tip toes, she plants a kiss on his cheek leaving a bright red mark before she skips ahead and clings to Sheryl’s arm. Tyki glances up and when their eyes meet Wisely rubs at his forehead, gesturing towards the double doors across the room with his head and gets a grin in return.

“Come Daddy, dance with me! Wisely isn’t feeling well!”

“Of course, my dear!”

Road’s a horrible liar, Wisely thinks fondly as Tyki plays along and they flee out the double doors so he might get some fresh air to feel better.

In the last few years he’s never felt happier.